All of my stories can be found on my ao3. I’m too lazy to bring all of my stories to tumblr. As of now I’m only been writing for Love & Deep Space, but I also have fics for JJK, and MHA. I’m currently juggling 5 wips so I’m just trying to go where the inspiration flows!
Please note: You must have an Ao3 account to read them. Ao3 was recently scraped to train ai so I unfortunately had to private my stories.
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tags; smut (+18), threesome (f/m/m), double penetration, no incest (Dante and Vergil are just competing), overstimulation, marking, bruising, biting, creampie, praise kink.
wc; 1,348.
notes; sooooo... hi. a friend gave me the idea for this, and then tiktok confirmed it, so I decided to give it a shot. maybe it's not the absolute best, but it's honest work. I need them both (although Vergil is definitely my weakness, heh). anyway, enjoy!
You don't remember how you even got to this point.
Or maybe you do, because an encounter like this would be impossible to forget. It was just that, in this exact moment, there was very little occupying your mind.
Everything that wasn't pure need, along with the remnants of any inhibition, had vanished hours ago.
All you could focus your attention on was the half-demon beneath you, and how entirely filled you felt wrapped around his cock. You fought to maintain some semblance of the composure that was slowly splintering apart as your hips rocked with a slow, steady firmness, wrenching hoarse groans from Dante. He looked so good like this, trying his hardest not to flip you over and fuck you with the sheer force he wanted. Always so impatient. Even though you could barely handle the pace yourself; Dante’s thick cock felt so incredible that you simply wanted to let yourself be taken, or take him without any restraint.
What held you back was the heavy weight of another half-demon’s gaze burning your skin.
As Dante growled, your glassy stare drifted toward the figure observing it all. Seated in a chair across from the bed as if it were a throne, there sat Vergil in all his splendor. The sparse lighting in the room accentuated his already imposing presence, the sharp angles of his face, and his taut muscles. His eyes locked with yours while you felt Dante pulsing deep inside you.
Vergil’s hand, wrapped around his erect cock, moved with the exact same tortuous slowness as your hips. He was just as large as Dante, perhaps a bit longer. You wanted to feel him, to know if he would stretch you just like Dante did, or if he would reach even deeper.
God, everything felt so burning hot.
Beads of sweat rolled down your back, your forehead, and your chest, slipping down to mingle with Dante’s skin, his breathing turning sharper and heavier by the second.
"C'mon, babe," he said, his eyes still squeezed shut. "Faster."
Vergil’s voice was firm, an octave rougher.
"Keep it just like that."
You let out a sharp whimper at the sound of them, savoring the harsh edge in Vergil’s voice and the desperation with which Dante buried himself deep inside your cunt, stretching you so beautifully that you were practically dripping all over his lap. The friction begged you to go faster, to ride Dante all the way to the edge. Just a little, you thought, just a little, but the heat in Vergil’s eyes anchored your hips to the same maddening, agonizing rhythm. Dante growled, his hands anchoring around your waist before sliding lower, cupping your ass and slamming you down harder against him.
Even though desperation was consuming them both, neither dared to break the pace.
You liked it, you realized as you slid slowly down Dante’s hard length; wanting to chase the release, yet rising and falling with agonizing slowness, feeling every single deep friction.
And you weren't the only one.
"Do you like this?" you asked breathlessly, swallowing a moan, looking directly at Vergil.
His jaw was clenched tight, the only visible indicator of his restraint. His chest rose and fell heavily, but you noticed the signs that his posture was on the verge of shattering completely. A light sheen of sweat coated his skin, giving a slick gleam to the muscles you desperately wanted to wrap your hands around. The tip of his cock was glistening with pre-cum, which he smeared over the head, pressing down firmly with his thumb. Vergil's eyes flared as he watched you, never breaking the steady stroke of his hand.
"It is an incentive, yes," he answered, the corners of his mouth curving up just a fraction.
His thumb pressed with a harsh friction over his glans, letting out a sharp exhaled breath.
You let out something between a laugh and a whimper, barely noticing the moment you slammed down harder onto Dante, but the hoarse, appreciative groan that ripped from his throat was proof enough that you had made the right move. His fingers were going to leave bruises on your ass. Then you picked up the pace, just enough to make yourself pant along with him. At the same exact time, Vergil's hand began to pump faster, harder.
"Fuck—yeah. Just like that," Dante gasped.
The pleasure that had been building to a boiling point overflowed with the sudden shift in rhythm. Dante gripped you tighter as you went from grinding against him to riding him with frantic energy. It was more than enough for Dante.
The orgasm caught you completely off guard, clinging to him so you wouldn't collapse, all while keeping your eyes pinned on Vergil. You watched the exact instant he broke, milking himself as long cords of semen spilled over his fingers and splattered down his length. At the same exact time, you felt Dante come inside you, filling you with hot, thick roils of cum that overflowed and leaked down the shaft of his cock.
Things shifted after that first orgasm, leaving you adrift in a tide of pure need, aching for more of them.
Dante’s cum dripped hot down your thighs, mingling with your own wetness. You didn’t know whose ragged breathing was echoing through the quiet room; it was likely your own. Dante’s cock slipped out of you, making you gasp at the sudden sensation of emptiness. It didn't last long. As you caught your breath, you felt the body beneath you shift; the hands on your ass moved to the curve of your waist to hold you in place as Dante pushed himself up into a sitting position.
Only then did you realize your eyes were half-open, watching everything from beneath your lashes.
Dante’s warm breath hit your collarbone, his lips grazing your skin. Distantly, you heard Vergil approach, his footsteps breaking the silence. You didn’t have time to look in his direction because Dante slid a finger down your cunt, sinking deep into your wetness. You were still overly sensitive, and you whimpered.
"Look at that," Dante smirked against your skin as he stroked your folds, the friction producing a slick, wet sound that matched his low chuckle. "You’re really something else, aren't you, babe? You took every bit of it."
Your lashes fluttered all the way open. Just as Dante slid a second finger inside, a hand clamped around the back of your neck, tilting your face up to meet Vergil, who claimed your mouth in a deep kiss the very next second.
You moaned into his mouth, a desperate sound that he swallowed whole. Vergil didn’t kiss gently; he kissed with hunger, demanding entry with the insistence of a starving man. His tongue traced the seam of your lower lip before diving in again, slow and deep, savoring every single second. Vergil tangled his fingers into your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back.
Meanwhile, Dante’s thumb applied pressure to your clit, forcing a choked whimper from your throat right into Vergil’s mouth as your inner walls clamped tight around his fingers.
"There you go. Good girl," Dante murmured.
One of your hands rested at the nape of Vergil’s neck while the other pressed against Dante’s shoulder, feeling his muscles shift as he worked inside your cunt. You could barely breathe, and Vergil only granted you a few seconds to catch your air before kissing you again, tangling his tongue with yours. Then Dante’s mouth moved down, finding the prize he wanted at your breasts. His nose pressed into the soft curve of one while his tongue swirled around the hardened nipple, tasting the sweat clinging to your skin. You pulled away from Vergil just enough to gasp against his lips right as Dante closed his mouth and sucked with a firm, steady pull. His fingers never stopped moving, curling inward to find the exact spot that made you lose your mind, rubbing it with firm, relentless strokes that created the most obscene sound. Vergil’s free hand took charge of your other breast, massaging the soft flesh with his rough palm, tugging gently at the nipple until he felt it harden.
Your hips rolled over Dante’s fingers, riding them, while you tasted the inside of Vergil’s mouth.
"You’re dripping all over my hand, doll," Dante pulled away from your breast with a wet pop to speak. "And you haven't even taken both of us yet."
A sharp whimper escaped your lips as you broke away from Vergil to grind harder against Dante’s fingers, chasing your second orgasm. The mere thought of having both of them inside you at the same time, filling you up, was almost enough to make you come. It was true, your legs were trembling, twitching closed by reflex whenever Dante hit a particularly good spot.
It was Vergil who forced your legs apart, anchoring his grip on one of your thighs.
"None of that. Keep them open."
Dante let out a low laugh.
"You heard him, doll. Don't move."
You choked back a groan, clinging to Vergil for support.
"Oh, fuck. I can't..."
"You can," Vergil said, his breath hot against your neck.
The orgasm hit you hard, stealing the air right out of your lungs and making you drive your nails into both brothers. Dante felt your inner walls pulsing violently, squeezing and releasing his fingers in rolling, tremulous spasms. His cock was already rock-hard again, pressing against the inside of your thigh. He prolonged your release with smooth, gentle finger-thrusts while his thumb kept up the pressure, a heavy amount of slick wetness sliding down his wrist.
By the time he withdrew his fingers, you were still shaking.
"Tired, babe?" he didn't even try to hide his grin. "The best part is still to come."
Caught between them, you would have said yes to anything. In fact, you already had.
The energy in the room had shifted. The air, already thick, grew hotter, and something electric crawled up your languid limbs every time they touched you. You were warm clay in their hands, and you wanted nothing more than to let yourself be molded.
At some point, Vergil lifted you from the bed as if your weight were absolutely nothing to the half-demon, his strong hands anchored beneath your ass, squeezing the flesh. Your only effort was wrapping your legs around his waist, ankles locked behind his back. Your sensitive breasts pressed against the hardness of his biceps, his steady heartbeat mocking your racing pulse.
Dante took his place behind you, chest flushed against your back, his hands finding their way back to your waist as he pressed a kiss between your shoulder blades. The position kept you suspended between the two of you, exposed, entirely at the mercy of their strength.
Vergil forced your mouth open to kiss you deeply, slicking your dry lips with his tongue.
"Hold on tight."
You managed to tangle your arms around his neck, pulling yourself flush against him. Then you heard movement behind you, followed by a murmur against your skin.
"Breathe slow, doll," Dante said. "Take it easy."
After two orgasms, you were more pliant than you thought possible, yet a shiver still ran down your spine when his fingers, slick with wetness, traced down your back and stopped at your tightest entrance. It was a slow preparation, starting with a single finger pressing gently, a rare display of patience from Dante. Meanwhile, Vergil used his mouth as a distraction, kissing you with such vehemence that you dissolved into sighs and low pants. Gradually, the strange pressure gave way to something deeper and more pleasurable. Dante added a second finger while Vergil attended to your swollen clit, causing your cunt to grow wetter and wetter.
"You're doing well," Vergil repeated, rubbing that sweet spot with firm fingers.
You didn't know whose firm grip belonged to whom, as both held you right where they wanted you. The fingers working inside you were doing absolute wonders.
When you were ready and trembling, Dante withdrew his fingers and positioned his cock, the thick head pressing against you. At the same time, Vergil guided his length to your cunt, sliding precisely against your folds. Both pushed inside slowly, inch by inch. You let out a broken whimper, burying your face in Vergil’s neck.
Yes, yes, yes, yes.
The sensation of being stretched to your absolute limit was deliciously overwhelming. Dante groaned against the nape of your neck as he buried himself fully, his hips flush against your backside. For a split second, you felt the sharp edge of fangs against your skin, unable to tell whose they were.
"Breathe," Vergil commanded. "You can handle this. Breathe with me."
For a few seconds, they just stayed like that, all three of you breathing raggedly, letting your body adjust to being completely filled. Then, they began to move. And, oh god, hell opened up. You saw red, and then nothing at all, as tears of pure delight blurred your vision.
You knew right then that you were ruined forever.
"Fuck," Dante growled. "Can you feel both of us, doll? Does it feel good?"
You nodded in response, letting out a whimper of pure, unadulterated need.
Vergil set the pace—implacable and steady—with deep, vertical thrusts from below, lifting you slightly with every stroke. The sound of skin slamming against skin was loud and wet, completely indecent, primitive. Behind you, Dante moved in a counter-rhythm: when Vergil pulled back, he drove in, and vice versa. They never left you empty. The double penetration created an intense, burning friction, you could feel every single inch of them shifting inside you. You became nothing but a mess of whimpers. Your teeth sank into Vergil’s shoulder, earning a low growl of pure satisfaction from him.
Their bodies enveloped you. Their hands were everywhere. Vergil gripped your thighs, parting them wider for Dante. The rhythm accelerated bit by bit. It was no longer careful—if it ever had been—it was raw. The sounds filled the room: your muffled cries, deep, hoarse grunts, the wet, relentless slap of flesh against flesh, and the slick sound of being filled to the brim by two half-demons.
"More—" you managed to babble between pants, your voice entirely broken. "Don't stop... Oh, fuck—"
The pleasure became blinding. Hell was going to open up at any second. Every motion sent waves of heat crashing through you. You clamped around them both, milking them tight. Sweat made their skin slide with even more friction. You shook violently, suspended between them, so, so full, and utterly incapable of doing anything but feel.
"Mmmh, agh— I'm gonna..." you barely managed to get out.
The orgasm hit with brutal force, a raw scream tearing from your throat as you came hard, your walls pulsing violently around them both, milking them for all they were worth. Vergil and Dante groaned in the exact same octave—more demon than human—and both blew inside you in hot, heavy roils that filled you up, distending your lower belly until the excess semen overflowed, dripping down in thick cords onto the floor. They kept thrusting through their climax, prolonging your release until you were completely spent, trembling, with tears of pleasure leaking from your eyes.
The foolish smile on your face would remain there for days, just like the bruises and marks the sons of Sparda left stamped into your skin.
"We've got you," you heard Vergil say as you went limp against him. "We've got you."
a note from angel: thank you so much for being so patient whilst i get this part out, thank you so much for all the support and i hope you enjoy! this is mainly sukuna's pov of what happened in part three, their...reunion will happen in part five. pls guess what ateez song i just mentioned for a kith, i realised this song sums up their relationship so bad lmao. enjoy!
The second his phone started to ring he froze.
This was the call he's been waiting for all night and now suddenly it feels like every muscle in his body has tightened. His chest feels heavy and for a second it hurts to breathe. It's stupid, I mean he was the one who advised you to call him.
And it all slipped out so naturally, he wasn't even fully aware of what he was saying. "you know...you can call me whenever you want and i'll pick up. whenever. i mean you know this."
Sukuna's not the type to think before he speaks, anything he says is his immediate thoughts. He doesn't sugarcoat it and if there's something he wants to say then he'll say it. But he's learned the grave consequences of saying things around you so bluntly and harshly, unaware that his words struck hard for a sensitive person like you.
Nonetheless, he did really mean it when he said you could call him whenever.
He just didn't know if you would believe that he actually meant it.
There were many things within your previous marriage that Sukuna would say but didn't mean. Like the times he was coming home late, like the times that he told you it was fine when you cancelled on date nights when it really wasn't, like the times that he told you that everything was going to be alright when even he didn't believe it himself.
And at one point he didn't mean 'I love you.'
He rarely said it anyways, back then much preferring to show you physically rather than to say those three words out loud. Perhaps that also tied into the reasons for divorce.
But for the first time in a long time, you believed him. And granted you were drunk and Sukuna is well aware that this outcome may have been different if you had gotten home sober that night but nonetheless he's glad you called.
He waited a bit before picking up the phone. The last thing he needs is to seem desperate and pathetic.
(As if he hasn't seemed that way already by suggesting to call him anytime.)
But Yuji's away in his room, playing one of his video games so Sukuna is sure he won't be disturbed talking to you and there's a part of him that wants to talk to you for as long as possible. He misses hearing your voice. He misses hearing all of the little things; how your day has been, who's been pissing you off at work, how the nosy neighbour that lives across from you is doing and so much more he thinks these questions would be endless.
His default ringtone continues to call out. Until he finally bites the bullet and picks up.
Just from the tone of your voice he already knows that you've had a few drinks. There's a contagious energy to your voice that he knows only alcohol can bring out of you and a part of him wonders what you and the girls have talked about tonight.
He doesn't want to get too ahead of himself but if the first thing you're doing after heading home is calling him, then Sukuna's safe to assume that he was surely the topic of conversation at one point.
You claim that you were just calling to check on Yuji and Sukuna's more than capable of passing the phone over to him but he goes for his selfish instinct.
"Just missed him. He's sleeping." And when he baits you out for still being on the phone to him, he closes in on you even more like you're his prey. "Talk to me."
"About what?" you ask.
"Anything, enlighten me."
And then you go on to talk about everything and anything.
This is exactly what he wanted. The sentences don't stop falling from your lips, you manage to ramble for so long that Sukuna's unable to give a response. It's the alcohol doing this to you but just from your tone he can tell that you've missed having these conversations with someone. With him.
It doesn't have to be important - that's not the point - what's important is just having someone to listen to you as you get everything off your mind and chest and that's what Sukuna manages to grant you. He hums and asks questions in the right places and suddenly an hour has passed.
He knows it's getting late and he promised to take Yuji to the baseball game tomorrow morning. He shoots the question for you to come and join them, he'll pay. Sukuna's tone is casual but his fingers are digging into his palms because he's so nervous.
Denied.
He's not supposed to take it personally but there's something in his lower abdomen that still sinks somehow. You've still got your guard up around him and there's an evident red line that shouldn't be crossed.
He doesn't push, merely taking another route.
"well, if you're busy tomorrow then maybe some other time this week we could- uh - go for drinks or something..."
It was just a suggestion that popped into his mind and the second it leaves his mouth he can sense your hesitation. He's fucked up again, he thinks and to cover his ass he manages to do what he does best.
Lie.
"casual. parent to parent. talk about yuji's behaviour or whatever."
"right, as if it's something that you couldn't tell me right now? you just told me he was fine."
"should definitely be said in person. i can get jin to watch him in the meantime."
When you don't question him as much as you should he knows he's succeeded. You've enjoyed this catch-up conversation as much as he did and you're relying on your own selfish instinct to agree with him. His ideas for drinks are just another chance to keep up with what's been happening over the years. Of course, he asks about your life here and there each time you drop off Yuji but for the first time in a long time he's heard about your thoughts and patterns, something that he once had committed to memory.
He's thrown Jin in it but he knows that he would be more than happy to look after his nephew and perhaps a little too eager to know that the two of you are on proper speaking terms again. Sukuna's still unsure what he wants out of this situation but it's more than obvious through the fluctuations in his lower gut that he does miss you.
Even when he doesn't say it aloud.
When you say goodnight, he calls you baby on purpose. Teasing you. And he hangs up before you can even scold him thinking that he's a genius. He knows he shouldn't be saying it and he has no right to, it's been years but that pet name still slips from his tongue quicker than whiplash. And he doubts that you'll bring it up to his face when he drops Yuji by the end of the weekend.
Once he's hung up the phone he's a little surprised you don't call him back to cuss him out. Either it's too late for you to bother him or for once maybe you liked it.
The silence of the room is imminent as Sukuna now basks in the aftermath of the conversation and his actions.
A hand runs across his forehead. What the fuck was he doing? Asking you for drinks? Making up the excuse that this was simply just to talk about Yuji is a low blow and even he knows that. But at least he got you to somewhat agree with the idea of going out with him and didn't reject it entirely.
He just hopes that you don't plan to bail in the upcoming days.
Checking on Yuji, it's obvious that the boy's knocked out. Sukuna tuts, clearing a little of his stuff left on the floor, turning off the tv screen before switching off his lights.
Content with the quiet and calm state of the house, Sukuna finally heads to his own room. It's not too shabby, a little emptier than most bedrooms but Sukuna didn't have many possessions in the first place anyways. Made it easier to pack and let go of his past, he told himself.
The mattress creaks under his weight and he lets out a groan at the ache of his body. Fleeting, his eyes manage to glance at his bedside drawer. Out of everything in the house, that drawer is the one thing that he rarely opens. Hidden away in the back corner lies his gold wedding ring that he once wore.
Thinking back to your split, it was difficult for him to get used to the lighter feeling on his hand. Some nights he'd glance at his hand noticing that something was missing before the realisation clouded over him. He hasn't worn it since the papers were finalised. He kept the ring on even whilst they were being served and determined, selfishly hoping for the possibility that you would change your mind.
But of course he was wrong.
Somewhere in his house, buried in a stuffed cardboard box, there are pictures of you and him in a few photo albums he's saved from the early years of your marriage. He's documented a lot: the wedding, your pregnancy, Yuji's birthdays. And those pictures specifically cause the most anxiety in his gut.
He still remembers that one night when he flicked through Yuji's birthday pictures right up until Yuji's fifth birthday, the last birthday he had before the two of you separated.
With every photo from each year his eyes land on your face and with each turn of the page he notices how your smile eventually disappears. Your eyes are clearly downcast. To a stranger you'd seem happy but of course Sukuna knows when you're covering it all up.
He should have noticed it earlier. With how distant you were getting and you becoming more quieter and quieter even an idiot would have assumed that you were planning to file for divorce.
And the following year, once it was all finalised Sukuna stopped taking pictures at Yuji's birthday. He still showed up, he always would for Yuji there's no doubt about it but there was no use pretending to be playing a happy family in front of the cameras anymore.
Laying back, Sukuna settled underneath the covers with his eyes now staring at the ceiling. His body is still but his mind is active, running with a thousand thoughts. He thinks about everything, about you, Yuji and of the multitude of reasons for how he has become so different compared to the man in those photos. He's become unrecognisable to himself, his entire life so far from what he had envisioned in the past. Back to sleeping in bed alone at his age? No, that's not what he wanted.
That photo album remains unfinished, blank pages of memories that show the potential of the future he could have had. And there's a smudge of a chance that he'll be able to make them with you and finish that photo album entirely because damn it-
he misses you.
And he swears from this point forward to make this as clear as possible to you again, no matter what.
The waltz between you and Sukuna has started up again. And it's a selfish one. The two of you are pulling each other deeper and deeper into this trance all whilst knowing that inevitably the past will come to hurt you again.
****
sneak peek for part 5 bc im really kind. i'm making it ambiguous (kinda).
"you gave up on me first."
"don't say it like that."
"was he a good fuck?"
"sukuna!"
"don't answer then."
MY TAGLIST IS NOW CLOSED!!! if you would like to keep updated then i would highly suggest subscribing on ao3 so you can get a notification of when i update, i update on tumblr and ao3 simultaneously. link is here! thank you for reading!
tags: porn with a some plot! (mdni, 18+ only!), lightly proofread, afab reader, brat/brat tamer, bondage, biting, spanking, use of daddy, jealousy, fingering, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, p in v, cumming inside, praise kink, annoying ass side character
wc: 3.7k
Sometimes, living with Zayne could be very difficult. Of course you understood that he was a busy man, saving lives and the like every single day. You were proud to have such a wonderful man as your boyfriend. Despite all of this, you couldn’t deny that the house, and especially your bed, felt cold and empty without him.
He had been prepping for a very important surgery on a VIP patient, leading to him barely showing his face at home, opting instead to sleep on the couch in his office to stay as efficient as possible. His messages had also become more sparse as he devoted all of his time to research to ensure the best possible outcome for the procedure. Your chest ached as you realized the last time you had slept in your beloved’s arms, and seen his handsome face in person, was over a week ago.
To his credit, Zayne was doing everything he could to ease the pain caused by his absence. He had texted you at least once every day to check in, and even got healthy meals delivered to the house to ensure you were eating. Once every few days, he made sure to carve out a few minutes in the evening to video call you. Even though he was doing his best, you felt like a part of you was missing all week and longed to have him back by your side.
You sighed after checking your phone again and seeing no notifications. You had just finished your hunter’s assignment, leaving you strolling the city streets aimlessly. A rumbling resounded from deep in your gut and you stopped, blinking in surprise as you realized that it was just past lunch time. While weighing options for your late meal, an idea popped into your head. Maybe you could pick up lunch for you and Zayne and bring it to his office? A small smile graced your lips as you set off on your newfound mission. You couldn’t wait to see him again.
Food in hand, you made your way to his office, stopping to greet the staff members you recognized. You approached the front desk, smiling at the nurse as she waved at you.
“Does he have a patient right now?” She shook her head, gesturing for you to head to his room. You nearly skipped down the hall, the idea of seeing your love after such a long wait making your heart race. You stopped just short of his door, noticing it ajar and hearing voices from within. You peeked inside, wondering who the voices belonged to. Your eyes widened in surprise as you saw a young nurse you hadn’t met before standing behind his desk and next to him, peering over his shoulder at the bright computer screen in front of them.
“Oh my gosh, you’re so smart Doctor Zayne!” Her voice was giddy, and she laid a hand on his forearm as she spoke, a smile stretching across her cheeks. Something twisted in your gut. You pushed the door open, watching as both her and Zayne’s eyes flitted to you. You smiled at both of them, although it didn’t fully reach your eyes.
“Hi, Zaynie.” You greeted, the nickname rolling off your tongue sweetly. You couldn’t miss the way the nurse’s face fell if you tried. He smiled in response, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Who’s this?” Your tone was saccharine as you set the food down, gesturing to the nurse by his side. She quickly pulled her hand away from his arm.
“I’m Stella! I just started a week ago. Doctor Zayne here was being kind and showing me how to log into the hospital’s webportal.” You hated the way his name sounded coming out of her lips. If she never said it again you could die a happy girl.
“Since you know how to do it now, I’m sure you won’t need my help again.” His deep voice was smooth and nonchalant, betraying no emotion. To say Stella looked deflated was an understatement. She glanced between you two before backing up, saying quick goodbyes and leaving the room. Your eyes followed her retreating form, a sour look replacing the false smile that was on your lips. Once the door closed behind her, you fixed Zayne with a narrow eyed gaze as he circled the desk to approach you.
“You’re so smart, Doctor Zayne!” You mimicked, the words sour in your mouth. He lifted an eyebrow at your comment, but pulled you into his arms nonetheless. You felt the tension from earlier melt off your muscles as you nuzzled into his chest, wrapping your arms around his back. “I missed you so much.” Your words were muffled against his shirt. His hands were rubbing reassuring circles into your back as he hummed in agreement. You pulled back, closing your eyes and lifting your face. Zayne dropped his head, sealing his lips over yours, his mouth gentle and warm. You sighed contentedly into the kiss before pulling away, snuggling your head back into his chest.
“I see you brought us lunch.” You nodded, glancing up to catch the way the corners of his lips lifted into a small, but sweet, smile. “We shouldn’t let it get cold.”
As you sat and ate together, you couldn’t shake the bitter feeling from earlier.
“So, she’s new. I haven’t seen her before.” You started, taking another bite of the food in your lap. “Yes. I believe she started a week ago.” You made a small sound of agreement, remembering she had said that in her introduction. Your eyebrows knitted together in deep thought.
“Have you worked a lot with her since she started?” Zayne put his fork down as he chewed, seemingly processing your question. “Only during the day. Her schedule is a bit different from mine.” The bitter feeling burned in your belly. “You see her every day, then?” “Since she began working here, yes.” You didn’t feel like eating anymore. “Oh.” Your response was simple, betraying nothing. You knew he had a lot on his plate preparing for the upcoming surgery and the last thing you wanted to do was add to that. However, the thought that you hadn’t seen your lover in so long, and he had been spending his days with another girl, coworker or not, made a pit settle painfully within your gut.
“Are you alright?” You didn’t even realize you had trailed off, staring into a corner of Zayne’s office as you thought. You shook your head and smiled listlessly. “I’m okay, just tired.” “Have you been getting enough sleep lately?” You laughed. “The doctor pulling all nighters wants to know if I’m getting enough sleep?” Your tone was teasing as you spoke, your chest feeling warm as you realized he had been worried about you.
You jumped as the door to Zayne’s office opened, his small smile falling as his eyes moved to it. Stella walked in, holding a bundle of patient charts. “Sorry to interrupt your lunch, Doctor Zayne.” Your eye twitched as she walked past you, giving you a cursory nod and laying the papers down on his desk. “The other doctor asked if you would be able to go over these before your next appointment at three.” “Yes, that should be doable.” He hummed as he scanned the stack of documents. She smiled, before turning to leave, her eyes scanning over you like she was sizing you up. You could barely hold back your scoff.
After she left, you began gathering your things. “Are you leaving?” Zayne seemed surprised, given that you only had a few bites of your food. “Clearly you are busy with your paperwork and your new nurse, so yeah. I guess I’ll go see if Xavier is ready to do another mission.” The bite in your words was clear, and you walked out the door before he had a chance to answer.
Once you left the hospital, guilt began to build in your throat. You didn’t mean to snap at your boyfriend like that. What you really wanted to do was cuddle into his arms as he whispered gentle reassurances. You held back your feelings for fear of adding to the load he was carrying but it all came out anyway. You felt silly for getting so jealous. You weren’t in high school anymore. But you couldn’t help it. The way she smiled at him, and was so comfortable touching him, made you so upset you couldn’t stand it.
You knew he was just trying to be professional, but a part of you felt like Zayne was entertaining her. You had no reason to feel that way, other than the anxiety that had been eating at you. If nothing else, Zayne loved you more than the stars in the sky.
You finally arrived home, mentally and physically exhausted from the day. You hoped you could call Zayne later to apologize for your behavior. Plopping down on the couch, you opened your phone and your favorite social media app. Clicking through the tabs, you ended up on the ‘People you might know’ screen. Your heart stopped when you peered Stella’s account at the top of the list. You hovered over the username before ultimately clicking it.
Most of it was normal posts, like pictures of her and her friends or some pretty scenery. However, the most recent posts were something else. The first one looked like a team photo of the Akso Hospital staff. You recognized many of the faces. As you zoomed into the photo, you noticed Stella wasn’t looking at the photographer. She had her head completely turned, and her eyes trained on your boyfriend. You felt rage build up inside of you. Screw apologizing to Zayne. Clearly he was entertaining her if she felt comfortable enough to be posting photos of him.
You glanced towards the front door as you heard it open. Zayne stepped inside, brushing stray snowflakes off of him. He looked up and saw you on the couch, eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise. “You’re home?” You asked, your tone dry. “Yes. The surgery got postponed a few days, so I decided to come home to spend time with you.” You rolled your eyes before going back to scrolling. “Are you sure you don’t want to spend time with Stella?” You muttered, bitterness lacing every word.
“What was that?” He was closer now, the smell of ice and his cologne filling your nose. You cursed the way you felt your panties dampen just from his scent. “I said, are you sure you don’t want to spend time with Stella?” You stood up, staring him right in the eyes, your gaze challenging. His green eyes twinkled in delight at your attitude. “Or did you get your fill from spending the entire week with her while you left me all alone at home?” He cocked an eyebrow at your words, the corner of his mouth turning up in a small smirk. “Are you jealous, little snowflake?” You narrowed your eyes at the use of your nickname, despising the way it made heat build in your gut.
“I have been neglecting you, haven’t I? Is that why you’re acting like such a brat?” Zayne reached out to take your hand, a few wispy pieces of his black hair falling in front of his eyes as he did so. You pulled your hand away quickly, leaving his arm hovering in the air. “I don’t know, is it? Figure it out, since you’re so smart.” You hissed, turning to walk away. Before you could take a step, you were hoisted into the air and thrown over Zayne’s shoulder.
“Put me down!” You shouted, battering your fists against his broad, strong back as he carried you to your shared bedroom. “I have to fix that attitude of yours.” He tossed you onto the bed, crawling over you as he loosened his tie. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you all of the attention I know you need.” Before you could protest further, he captured your lips, sliding his tongue inside of your mouth smoothly. He tasted cool, and minty, and it took every ounce of your power to not melt into him. As he kissed you, he began to pull at your clothes, breaking away from you only to tug your shirt off over your head. Pressing his lips back against yours, he shimmied your pants down your legs, until they fell off completely. You gasped into his mouth as his cold fingers skimmed your tummy, before coming up to cup your chest. Arching into the touch, you shut your eyes, rubbing your legs together to try and soothe the friction your core so desperately craved.
Zayne broke the kiss, pulling away as he stared down at your face. His jade irises were shimmering as he took in your swollen lips, darkened cheeks, and dazed look. “Aw, is my poor baby already feeling needy?” You snapped out of your stupor, turning your head away, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. He chuckled in delight. “Clearly, I still need to show you what happens to good girls that want to act like brats.” He sat at the edge of the bed, grabbing your leg to pull you over his lap. You squirmed, not liking where this was going.
“You know how to count, right baby?” You scoffed at his question. You didn’t even have time to retort, before the palm of his hand was coming down on your ass. Jumping in surprise at the impact, you forgot to count. “Do I need to add for each one you miss?” You shook your head, a quiet ‘one’ tumbling out of your lips.
“How… how many?” Zayne hummed in thought as he soothed your sore bottom with a gentle rub. “I think given the way you were speaking to me, ten is fair, no?” Both of you knew you probably deserved a lot more, but Zayne had always been prone to spoiling you. You nodded, and counted dutifully as he swatted your behind, each swing feeling less painful and more pleasurable. By the time you got to ten, your pussy was soaked, and you were barely able to speak.
“T-ten…” You choked, breaths coming in short pants. Zayne sat you up facing him, your legs straddling him as he cradled your face in his hands. “Now what do we say to Daddy?” He stroked your cheek reassuringly as he spoke. “Thank you Daddy.” “Are you sorry for the way you acted?” You nodded, your head foggy with pleasure. “Good girl.” Zayne praised, leaning forward to press a kiss against your forehead. “Let me spoil you now. I’ll make sure you know exactly who I belong to.”
Now that you were soft and pliant in his hands, you let him lay you down on the bed gently. He grabbed his tie and carefully looped it around your wrists, securing them to the headboard. “Let me make you feel better. I’ll make it all go away.” He leaned down to mouth at your neck, reveling in the way your breath hitched and you squirmed. One of his hands left your wrists to ghost down your chest and tummy, stopping at your unclothed cunt. His fingers dipped lower, and he inhaled sharply once he felt how wet you were.
“I’m so sorry that I left you alone for so long... I missed my sweet girl.” Zayne said into your neck, his lips tracing a line down to your chest. Two of his digits slipped inside of your waiting hole, facing little to no resistance because of how soaked you were. You whimpered as he began working them in and out, curling in a ‘come here’ motion to touch that spongy spot inside.
Your back arched slightly, the stimulation causing a warm feeling to tingle throughout your body as pressure began to build in your gut. Zayne’s eyes trained your face, noting the twitch of your eyebrows and the way your lips parted to let a few moans slip out. He had always been studious, and had spent ample time getting to know your body and the parts of you that, when touched, could have you undone in an instant. After how you behaved today, he was stuck between leaving you on the edge all night or making you finish so many times that you forgot your own name.
He felt you clench onto his fingers, and decided to go with the latter. As he fingered you, he slid his body down the bed, until he was face to face with your dripping pussy. Continuing his ministrations, Zayne brought his mouth to your clit, wrapping his lips around it and sucking tightly. You let out a sharp gasp, your legs twitching and threatening to close around his head. His digits kept pushing in and pulling out as he swirled his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Ah, um… Daddy, I’m close!” You gasped again, whimpering as you glanced down and met Zayne’s intense gaze. He hummed against you, the vibration the final touch you needed to reach your high. You came with a squeak, panting as you gushed onto his fingers. Zayne continued eating you out until you stopped shaking, finally pulling away to sit up onto his legs. You stared at him, eyes heavy lidded with arousal. A wicked smile bloomed on his face.
“We aren’t done just yet, little snowflake.” Your eyes widened, and you began to tremble in anticipation at what he had planned for you.
You twitched and seized on his tongue for what felt like the eighth time. Your head was foggy from the stimulation and pleasure. Your insides ached, craving the feeling of his cock deep inside of you, but being continuously denied. Zayne lifted his head, panting, and pushed his fingers back inside of you. His lips and chin were covered in your slick, a few strands of his hair plastered to his forehead from the workout his jaw was getting. As he took in your fucked out state, a product of his consistent overstimulation, his pants grew even tighter around his already swollen dick. He didn’t think he could refuse you any longer.
“Please…” You begged, pulling at the restraints holding your wrists to the headboard. You wanted him inside of you so bad you thought you would die without it. “You beg so prettily, baby.” You swallowed a moan as he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down, freeing his aching cock. You whimpered at the sight of it, trying to squirm closer. Zayne grabbed his dick, slapping the head against your clit a few times. He pulled his hips back slightly, lining up with your sopping hole, before beginning to push himself in slowly. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the stretch, a strangled sound tumbling out of you. You swore you came again just from him entering you.
Zayne threw his head back as he bottomed out, biting his bottom lip to suppress a groan. You felt so good inside, so warm and wet and all for him. “I can’t believe I survived without you for a whole week.” He whispered reverently, adoringly running his hands over your hips to your waist, and then moving in to grasp at your chest. His gaze tracked the gentle curve of your jawline, following down your neck and across your collarbones. Everything about you was so beautiful, he couldn’t stand it.
He began to thrust, slow and gentle. “It’s unfair how beautiful you are. So warm and wet and welcoming. It makes me want to give you the world.” He tweaked your nipples with his fingers as he spoke, his hips snapping against you rhythmically. “You deserve more than the world. You deserve the world, plus the moon, stars, and universe.” He let out a moan as he felt you tighten around him, your hips lifting slightly to meet him mid thrust. Dropping his hands from your chest, he brought them to cup your waist, using it as purchase to help pull him in deeper.
“Such a sweet girl, all worried about me while I am away at work. Like anyone could ever hold a candle to you.” You felt tears prick at your eyes from overstimulation and the syrupy words he was spilling. He bent down, capturing your lips in a messy kiss. Your tongues tangled together as Zayne groaned into your mouth, lost in how good it felt inside of you.
You felt a knot snap without warning, and you came again on his cock. Zayne froze, swallowing your whimpers in his mouth. He pulled back, cradling your face with one of his hands as he turned your gaze to meet his eyes.
“I’m going to cum now, baby.” After you nodded, he dropped his head to your shoulder, biting deep as he thrusted messily. It only took a few seconds before he was moaning into the bite, his hips stuttering against you. Zayne buried himself deep inside, pressing all the way to the hilt, making sure to cum as deep as possible. After holding himself there for a bit, he pulled his mouth off the bite, licking the mark to help soothe the ache. He pulled out, leaning up to untie your hands.
“Do your wrists feel alright?” He gently took them in his hands, turning them over to make sure there was no bruising. You nodded wordlessly, completely exhausted from your activities. Zayne laid down next to you, pulling you into him, your back pressed against his chest as you both laid on your sides. He brought one hand up to gently stroke your hair as he peppered kisses against the back of your neck.
“You did so well.” You hummed, eyelids heavy and already starting to flutter shut. “I belong to you my love, and I always will. Don’t forget that.”
i hope you guys enjoyed this! i luvvv zayne so much and we all know hes def a brat tamer so i wanted to make sure to do him justice! until next time <3 -kitty
🔞// Dancer!Sylus x fem reader, slow-ish burn, smut & fluff
This had to be a joke, obviously. There was no way your friends actually bought VIP tickets to a male stripper show. You were just going to stay in and relax for your birthday, but the giggling pair of women watching you stare blankly at the ticket in your hand, had other plans. “You are not serious,” you huffed, waiting for them to admit it was a prank. They shook their heads in unison. “You need to loosen up a bit! All you do is work and rot in this apartment,” Tara said. “It’ll be fuuunnn, we’ll all go together!,” Simone chimed in, giving her shoulders an enthusiastic shimmy. “Come on, babe. You only turn 30 once. You’re hot and single, plus it’s not like you have to go home with any of the dancers…I mean, unless you wanted to,” she added with a wink.
Admittedly, you were getting a little too fond of your couch every night. The dent left in the cushion was evidence of your repetitive nights in, watching the same trash tv, eating take out that was overly salted. You sighed with resignation, “fine—I’ll go, but don’t expect me to do anything crazy.” The girls clapped, bouncing with excitement like a pair of happy seals. Tara made a full itinerary for shopping, getting ready and the scheduled transportation in case you had one too many birthday cocktails. As embarrassing as this whole ordeal was, you were thankful to have such thoughtful women as friends.
Just days before your birthday, they dragged you to the mall to find the perfect dress. It had been ages since you’d been to a club, let alone a small bar right in town. They scrutinized everything in your closet, heads shaking with disapproval. “You need something that draws more attention. Something sexy,” Simone insisted, raking through clothing racks with trained precision. “Yesss, mature but daring!,” Tara added, holding different pieces in front of your body. Each dress got shorter, lacier—you might as well show up nude at this rate. Eventually, you wandered off on your own, thumbing through the aisles with little to no effort.
Then your hands landed on a dress that looked promising. Just revealing enough to catch a few stares, but not too loud or gaudy. It was wine-red, strapless, length just above the knees and hugging your normally hidden curves. Your friend’s eyes widened as you stepped out of the dressing room, giving them a slow twirl. “So? Do you two approve?,” you murmured. Tara and Simone glanced at each other, then back at you, “yes!” Although it was out of your comfort zone, you felt incredible in that dress, even if the fabric clung to you like a second skin.
When the night finally arrived, reality began to sink in. Not only were you coming to terms with transitioning out of your twenties, you’d also have to face the nervousness twisting in your gut about whatever depraved plans your friends had in store. It’s just male dancers, nothing too crazy, right? Besides, you needed a break from it all—life, work and the train wreck that was your dating life. Maybe ogling attractive men in skimpy little outfits wasn’t such a bad idea? The blaring sound of Tara’s car horn pulled you out of your ruminations. You stood in front of the floor length mirror, straightening out any wrinkles, fixing tendrils of loose hair. Simone walked out from your bathroom, slinging her purse over one shoulder. “You look amazing, girl. It’ll be a memorable night, promise.”
Bass thumped from inside the sleek, club venue. As you walked inside, the lobby was low-lit, adorned with velvet lined booths and private tables. Yours was reserved right at the edge of the main stage. Behind it was a giant LED screen, glowing with the night’s line up. ‘Sylus: The Silver Fiend’ was the first performer. Tara brought a tray of shots from the bar and you felt your stomach churn at the scent of overly expensive vodka. “Cheers, to the birthday girl! Thirty and thriving!,” she cheered, clinking the glasses together before tossing hers back. The liquor burned as it went down, you winced at its strength, chasing it with a sip of pineapple juice. “I heard this guy’s the hottest dancer here. I had to get you front row seats,” Simone said just as the lights began to dim. The entire lounge roared with excitement, chanting the name ‘Sylus’ repeatedly.
You turned your attention to the stage, heart fluttering as a slow, sensual song blared through the speakers. A tall, broad man stepped out from the curtains, dressed head to toe in leather and sleek riding boots. His hair was a silvery-white, perfectly tousled and catching the multicolored lights above him. He looked over the crowd, a confident smirk on his lips. “Give it up for the fiend, ladies!,” the DJ exclaimed, followed by an outpouring of screams. Sylus slowly turned his back to the crowd, rolling his shoulders—letting his leather jacket fall to the floor. His back was wide and sculpted, carved by the gods themselves. Your eyes couldn’t stop from dragging down to his narrow waist. He looked over one shoulder, directly at you. His eyes were sharp, sensual and a deep shade of crimson. Sylus rolled his body hypnotically, hands roaming over muscle before resting on the belt loops of his pants.
God, his fingers were long, hands large and vascular. You squirmed as he dragged the zipper down, lip caught in your teeth. Yeah, maybe this night was going to be a lot better than you thought. He took his time sauntering around the stage, sliding to his knees, letting groups of women run their hands down his abdomen. Something stirred inside you then, jealousy perhaps? It faded when his eyes found you again, raking over your entire frame. You clutched the dollar bills in your hand, heart a fluttering mess as he approached. His cologne hit your senses first, woody and spiced—then he knelt down and held your chin between his fingers. “What are we celebrating tonight, Kitten?,” he purred, “love the dress.” The warmth deepened across your cheeks, words stuck in your throat. “Mm, don’t be shy, now…,” he chided, taking your wrist in his hand. Your fingers glided down his chest and abdomen, stopping short of his unbuttoned pants.
A surge of heat filled the space between you, time seemed to pause as you took the hand clutching a fistful of money, tucking it into Sylus’s waistband. He chuckled, it was the most attractive sound you’d ever heard. “Such a generous tipper..,” he jumped down from the stage, pushing your legs apart with his knee. The dancer contorted his body like a serpent, letting you touch him while he guided your hands. Your girlfriends were in shock, eyes bulging as they watched the scene before them. Sylus’s gaze never left yours, in fact, he couldn’t care less if anyone else was in the room. He braced one hand on the booth, mouth lowered to your ear.
“When this song is over, care to join me for a private dance?”
Your mouth watered, almost choking on the excess spit as you swallowed. Sylus held your chin for the second time, running a thumb over your lips. “Is that okay, Sweetie?”
“I—didn’t pay for that.”
“Ssshh, it’s on the house. I’d really love your company. Just you and me…,” he mused, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.
You looked to your friends, seeking some kind of approval. They responded wordlessly but their frantic nods said enough. Sylus’s song faded out as the next performer took the stage, he waited eagerly for you to join him, hand outstretched.
His grip was secure, yet gentle—your fingers interlaced perfectly. Before guiding you to the vip suites, Sylus bid your friends farewell. “Ladies, please enjoy the rest of the show,” he pulled an unlimited drink card from his pocket and slid it to the girls. “And drink responsibly.”
Why you? You pondered, stepping through a beaded curtain that lead to a private room. Sylus held the door open, “after you.” As it clicked shut, your ears twitched and heart pounded. The space was tinted by red LED lights, setting an incredibly intimate tone. He lead you to a satin lined chaise, encouraging you to relax. Slow tempo music hummed from the speakers, you found yourself idly swaying to the sound. Sylus towered over you, following your rhythm. “Let’s pick up where we left off. Eyes on me, Kitten…” His fingers rested at the waist of his leather pants, sliding them lower and lower—hips rotating agonizingly close. You toyed with the hem of your dress, palms clammy…panties…clinging more than you’d expect. “I like the way your eyes look right now…,” Sylus purred, stepping out from the trousers pooled at his feet. Now he stood before you, practically bare, only wearing skin tight briefs.
“You can touch me, Sweetie. Wherever you want,” he insisted.
“Can you…kneel down for me—please?”
Sylus quirked an eyebrow but obeyed nonetheless. You held his face in your hands, thumbs grazing his cheeks, taking in every sharp feature. He was truly a stunning man, unique in his beauty, looking like he could live in another time. “I like your eyes too…,” you murmured, your touch feathering down the planes of his throat. “They’re like gems, beautiful...” This was, well, different for Sylus—unexpected. Normally his private clients couldn’t get enough of his biceps or abs, the obvious bulge beneath his shorts. Still, he never allowed them to explore below the belt. You left the man speechless, yet wanting so much more. “Your words are dripping in honey,” he breathed, hands falling to your waist.
“I wonder if the rest of you is just as sweet…”
With your faces just inches apart, you could taste the mint on his breath, feel it fan across your shoulders. ‘I want to know you. Memorize every last detail. Taste you…but…not yet’, Sylus thought. He sighed, reluctantly pulling away. You were reeling from the tension that suddenly snapped like a rubber band. The warmth from his hands still scalded your skin, like a cruel reminder they didn’t stay, didn’t strip away the only barrier of fabric keeping you from getting closer. “Sorry, pet. Times up.”
Your body slumped heavily against the chaise, not at all sated. You watched Sylus redress before he extended his hand. “Come now, I’ll return you to your friends,” he said, soft, his lips curling up slightly. Simone and Tara were happy as clams, surrounded by a group of male dancers—dollar bills tossed and drinks spilling over their glasses. You felt Sylus's breath on your ear as he leaned in to speak, “when I see you again, it won’t be in this smokey club,” he opened your palm, sliding a business card into it before closing your fingers. “Let me know when you’re home safe, please?” All you could do was nod, still left in disbelief. Then when you turned to say goodbye, all that was left was his lingering warmth.
The ride back to your apartment was full of chatter, your friends asking twenty questions at one million miles per hour. “He…gave me his number, said he wants to see me again…to text him when I’m home safe.” You looked up from the card in your hand, meeting two sets of wide eyes and slacked jaws. “So? Are you going to?,” they echoed. A shy grin spread across your lips, cheeks searing hot. “I–you think I should? I really want to.” They nodded frantically in unison, “if you don’t, you’re crazy,” Simone said. “He was so into you!,” Tara added. Of course, it was all a part of the act. To make women swoon and fall over themselves so they’d tuck more money in his briefs. When you left, did he take anyone else back to that room? Say the same saccharine words? Secretly, selfishly, you hoped not.
The warmth and indents of his fingers still haunted your flesh. You swore you could still taste his breath. Mint, lingering from the remnants of gum or a lozenge and something warmer…maybe a swig of brown liquor? Regardless, you wanted more—punching his number into your contact list.
🐱–“Hey it’s me, thank you for a fun night. Wasn’t planning on celebrating my birthday and…”
You stared at the forming paragraph, thinking it’d be too much. Erasing it almost completely as you sent something simpler.
🐱–“Made it home, had fun tonight. Thank you.”
Before your phone could settle on the nightstand, it vibrated to life, Sylus’s contact name lighting up the screen.
🪶–“Of course, Kitten. So, when can I see you again?”
Your heart flickered, beating like a drum in your chest. Several minutes passed, thumbs hovering over the glowing screen. Too many minutes, it seemed. Because your phone began to ring. What you didn’t know about Sylus was that this stripper gig wasn’t his real job. He could get his hands on anything or one he wanted with a simple snap of his fingers. You happened to be that want—no, a need. Something ancient stirred in his soul when his gaze fell on you from that stage and he couldn’t just let you slip away. But, he wanted it to be a true connection, wanted you to be willing to see past the dollar bills and neon lights. Wanted you to see him beyond bare skin and lustful stares.
“H-hello?,” you almost whispered, pressing the phone to your ear. “Perhaps I’m not being forward enough.” His voice was much deeper, rougher with need. “I want to see you again…and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen. Do you understand?” “I…yeah, I do,” you murmured.
“Good. Very good,” you could hear the smile on his lips, feel warmth bleed through the speaker as he spoke. “Let me take you out on a proper date. Away from all that depravity you saw tonight.” You nodded as if he could see you, but flinched at his words when he spoke again. “Speak, Miss kitty. I need a ‘yes’,” he soothed, his voice coming through to stroke the length of your spine.
“Where do you wanna take me?”
He chuckled, then let out a long sigh. “Check your messages, sweetie.”
Before you could respond the call dropped and a text came through. An address. A time. What to wear. The restaurant sounded familiar, you thought. It’s because that was the most impossible place to reserve in the whole city.
🐱- “no offense, but…how can you afford to book a reservation here?” You could almost hear that familiar chuckle as his text lit your screen.
🪶- “none taken and not with money from my waistband, I can assure you.”
🪶- “I’m looking forward to seeing you, get some rest.”
—
Sylus placed his phone on the nightstand, a deep gust of wind blew from his lips. He walked slowly to the floor to ceiling windows of his high-rise condo, gaze flicking back and forth across the busy city below. Linkon wasn’t his home, nowhere was, really. Not when you live a life as dangerous as his. Being a male dancer was a cover, something he could snatch easily with his looks and charm alone.
But would you accept him, the most honest version. Someone who rules over a concrete kingdom, someone that takes lives. Only the ones that deserve it, yet—.
Sylus was prepared for the sour taste it could leave in your mouth. Used to being called a monster. A villain. Did he deserve your softness, your attention?
It’s not as if the leader of Onychinus expected a warm and affectionate welcome.
———
That was how you remembered him though, warm. Soft spoken. As the weeks went by, you couldn’t wait to see those pools of ruby red. Smell the musk off his skin. Hear the depth in his voice in person instead of through phone calls.
See him in a different light.
Candlelight made him look soft, romantic, golden as it illuminated his face. You stared at him more than the menu in your hands.
“Have you decided on something?,” he asked, smiling earnestly.
“I—well, I like seafood a lot. There’s just so much to choose from. The salmon…or no, maybe lobster…?”
Sylus watched you over the rim of his wine glass, letting the red liquid slither down his throat.
“Why not both?,” he offered, without a hint of hesitation.
“You’re serious?,” you rasped.
This was the most extravagant date you had ever been on, with a man that just a month earlier danced practically nude in your lap. You kept questioning if this was real, if you were truly sitting across from a stranger with white hair and red eyes.
“Please, get both,” his voice was gentler, earnest.
“Okay then, both it is.”
“Excellent.”
When Sylus looked at you, his gaze wasn’t stained with lust, but something much more reverent. He didn’t interrupt when you spoke about your hobbies, dealbreakers or that movie that changed your life in high school. In fact, he sank his chin into his palm, head tilted and lips wearing the most handsome grin. You were his best company he’d had in a long time.
There was a brief moment of silence between you after your waitress left the room, one that you decided to fill. “I’ve talked an awful lot about myself, why don’t you go?” Sylus chuckled, finishing the last of his wine. “What would you like to know, Kitten?” Plenty of simple, generic questions floated around in your head, but Sylus didn’t seem like a simple man.
“Why me? Why the private dance, the texting…this date? It’s just—not something I’m used to.”
“You should be,” he replied, unraveling the silverware from its cloth napkin. “You’re not a simple woman. There’s a depth to you I’m sure you’re aware of, yet refuse to acknowledge.” Sylus folded the napkin in his lap and topped off both glasses of wine. “You didn’t want to be in that club, did you?”
“Well—,” not exactly, not until you met him.
“I suppose we might not have ever met in that case,” he murmured, stroking his chin.
“You made me want to stay.”
Sylus froze, body stiff from your confession. He didn’t speak, he wanted you to continue, so he politely nodded. “I don’t think you wanted to be there either—I mean—you’re very good at what you do, but…,” your gaze fell, pulse thrumming. “It’s almost like it’s a cover for something.”
Now his heart was racing, in that moment Sylus felt like he was made of glass, effortlessly read.
“Perhaps it is.”
Just as the conversation was beginning to get interesting, your meals were placed before you. Admittedly, with the way your empty stomach growled, this was worth the interruption and you savored every single bite. Sylus watched you with a pleased expression, as if he adored the sight of your indulgence—and he did. What he especially loved was that your pleasure, even a simple meal, was provided by his hand—and platinum card.
Sylus insisted on walking you home, noticing the rosy glow to your cheeks from one too many glasses of wine. "Honestly, I'm fine...I can just take a taxi. I don't wanna be a burden." He stared at you, puzzled, head tilted to one side. "Sweetie, I asked you to be in my presence, it's the least I could do." There was a beat of silence before he spoke once more, "and..besides, I'm not ready for your absence just yet." His confession left you feeling unsteady on your feet. "My apartment is just a few miles north of here," you uttered. "Perfect, it would ease my mind to know you made it safely."
"Do you always do that?," you asked, a bit slurred.
"Do what?"
"Say all this sweet shit on first dates?"
The words spilled out messily before you could stop yourself. Sylus rested his arm around your shoulder, standing on the outer edge of the sidewalk. He didn't seem scorned by your slip up, in fact, that familiar chuckle rose from his throat instead. "Is that what you think I've been doing all night?," he asked. "Are you so unused to compliments that you think I would waste your time and mine saying them?" You had no rebuttal. The two of you walked at a leisurely pace, his gait was measured, confident. Now it was your turn to speak, "I guess...I just assumed you're used to flattery...with your job."
"Ah."
An apology was rising in your chest, hot and stinging like bile. The silence from Sylus was not from offense, but him carefully choosing what to say next.
"I speak to you 'sweetly' because that is what I think you deserve. Is that acceptable?"
It was darker now and the street lamps began to light one by one. You could feel Sylus's gaze on you, hear his even breath. "I...suppose that's okay." The outline of your apartment complex came into view and a part of you wished the walk would have lasted a little longer. "Which floor?," he asked as you approached the elevator near the entrance.
"Oh, um. Third."
The night had finally come to an end and you still felt like there was more to know about this incredibly mysterious man. He watched you walk to your door, turn the lock and step inside. "Thank you...for dinner, and walking me home. But wait– you're not going to walk all the way back are you?" Sylus smirked, "are you worried about me, pet? I think I'll survive." You frowned, and in this moment you truly looked like a stubborn kitten, making him chuckle. "Sylus, I'm serious-."
"Can I see you again?"
You blinked, your mouth opened and shut as words tried to form.
"There's just... something more about me I haven't had the chance to share."
"...why don't you just come inside?" It was late, you knew that and so did he. At this point, did the time really matter when he stepped inside and closed the door behind him? Did the fact that you had work in the morning matter as you watched him toe off each shoe and follow you to the couch. No. Not really. Not when you wanted more.
"Your home is...quaint," he mumbled, sinking into the cushion beside you. "It's nothing fancy, but I'm happy to have somewhere to go every night." Despite letting someone you truly didn't know into your home, this felt different. The air wasn't charged, you didn't feel cramped or trapped. Sylus brought a calm air that hadn't surrounded you in quite some time. He was close again, this felt far more intimate than your private dance somehow. Yet, there were more barriers now, down to the clothing you wore, more to tear away. You still felt that prickle beneath your skin, and urge to have him touch you, but wouldn't he have done that already if his mind was in the same place?
"I wont keep you up much longer...," he started, clasping his hands into his lap. For the first time since your introduction, Sylus wore an expression that seemed...vulnerable. You nodded, adjusting your weight into the couch. "You're right about dancing being a cover. And while I'm happy to have entertained you that night, it's not where I'll remain for the foreseeable future."
"Okay..."
"Will you disappear, then?," you asked. Why were you so concerned? You didn't know anything besides his name and what little he shared in the month you’ve gotten to know each other.
"Sometimes. The organization doesn't exactly have a set schedule."
Your brows knitted with confusion, "Sylus, who exactly are you?"
Silence fell over the room, heavier this time, like gravity had walked in and announced itself. Sylus stood, "you've heard of Onychinus, yes?" The name was faintly familiar, a blur in the back of your mind. Maybe said in passing from your friends who were Hunters. You only had you a small peak into the depth of their missions, which were kept heavily anonymous. They never gave a name though, not a single inkling of what this 'dangerous mob boss' might look or sound like. One detail that didn't go unnoticed was the fact that no matter how many illegal business deals occurred, civilians were never harmed in the process. Only his competition. Often times, Sylus would get his hands on the goods and be on his way, never leaving a trail behind.
"Briefly."
He cleared his throat, "well, I'm the leader." A mix of emotions flooded you. Shock, disbelief, an ounce of intrigue—Onychinus was a crime ring, one that has never been easy to track, including the man in charge. That man was in your apartment, yet you still didn't want him to leave. "So, then...are you going to have to kill me if I say anything?" Sylus made a sound in response, a scoff that blended into a laugh.
"You wont."
"But, I would understand if you never wanted to see me again. I'm a bad man, you know."
"Something tells me you don't believe you are." You sat up, inching closer to him, his eyes flickered, but he didn't move back. "I don't think a 'bad man' would tell someone that he enjoys travel, learning new languages, or feeding stray cats every Sunday night." His weight shifted, the coiled restraint in his rigid posture softening the more you spoke. "If you truly wanted to get rid of me...wouldn't you have done it by now?"
"That's isn't-"
"Sylus. I'm not afraid of you. I don't exactly know how you got into that role. Protocore and weapon trades, business deals–it's all foreign to me.” You reached for his hand, it dwarfed yours in comparison, his palm rough and calloused. "But you can't just disappear when you waltzed your way into my life…and certainly not after dropping a bomb like that."
He looked down at your intertwined hands, "I want you to be the one to decide, then."
"Decide what?"
His hand slipped from yours.
"What happens after tonight."
A chill ran down your spine, "what do you want to happen?" The space between you opened slightly as Sylus drew himself back. "I only wish you allow me to get to know you properly. No rushing into things, no regrets." Sylus turned to the door, you watched the dent in the cushion disappear where his weight once was. "I don't want to be reckless, not with you. However, I can't seem to sever this...linkage that draws me in, that makes me want more." His hand was on the doorknob now, your eyes traced the edge of his profile as he looked over his shoulder, "what's wrong with that?"
There was an invisible force Sylus couldn't ignore since the day he laid eyes on you and should you accept him, he would be willingly bound.
"I suppose, the fear that the want is one sided." He stood in the doorway for just a second longer, his back turned completely. "Good night, Sweetie."
The door clicked shut and you expelled a deep, shuddered breath. His heavy footfall disappeared down the hall, followed by the faint 'ding' of the elevator door. An ache grew behind your ribs, it felt empty, like a hole had been punched through your chest. The first thing you did was reach for your phone.
🐱–"Please don't disappear on me."
———
His keys hit the entryway table with a thud, the condo was quiet save for his footsteps as he padded to the bathroom—the thoughts clattering against his skull were migraine inducing. Sylus stood beneath the shower's stream, letting the hot water run over his closed eyes. Maybe the heat would balm the throbbing in his head. His hand balled into a fist, then unfurled. He could still feel your touch, the softness of your skin. You smelled like the same perfume you wore the night of your birthday, yet something else lingered behind it, something richer. The scent burned in his nostrils, but he didn't mind the sting. What troubled him the most was the look on your face when he turned to leave. The confusion because maybe you wanted him to stay, the quiver in your lips when his drew back. But for your safety, for now at least, becoming invisible was his only choice.
🪶– "Get some sleep, Kitten."
But you couldn't. Tossing and turning, you ruminated endlessly on what happened earlier that evening. How close he was, again, only to pull away. Sylus mentioned a 'linkage' that kept him drawn to you, yet you couldn't help but feel like there was a canyon dug between you both. Would you have to be the one to lay the foundation, to build the bridge leading to something more tangible? Weeks went by before you heard from Sylus again. He became impossible to get a hold of and you began to wonder if it was deliberate. This felt familiar, a man pours himself out to you, you show interest and then he disappears. That sad, empty sensation in your chest fizzled into heat. An anger so scorching it burned a hole in your chest. Because he wasn't supposed to be the same as every other man, you knew his character—or so you thought. He admitted too much and too soon to be this avoidant and you weren't about to chase him.
———
Three whole months had passed, not that you were counting. There was a chill in the evening air, it made you wrap your arms around yourself as you approached the night club. A combination of cigarette smoke, cheap perfume and alcohol filled your nostrils. Tara and Simone were already inside waiting. They waved you over to the bar, greeting you with smiles and hugs. "I can't believe he just ghosted you like that!," Tara exclaimed, sliding a drink across the bar top. It smelled strong, after just one sip your body felt numb and for now that was better than aching. "Let's...not even talk about that, it's not like it hasn't happened before," you mumbled. But tonight wasn't about wallowing, so you tossed back the fiery liquid, enduring the burn–leaving only a few ice cubes behind. "Actually, fuck it. I'm gonna go dance."
You eased your way into the crowd, feeling the bass thundering in your chest. The music was just loud enough to flood the insecurities, the inhibitions. You moved at an aimless pace, back and forth, side to side. Your hips swayed and arms rose above your head. Nothing mattered now, not Sylus, not the liquor sloshing in your gut. Neon lights illuminated the dance floor, flashing and flickering wildly. You closed your eyes to dull the blur in your vision, occasionally bumping shoulders with a drunk stranger. You didn't care, finally distracted for the first time in months, so much so that the clammy pair of hands that curled around your hips almost went unnoticed. "Hey, gorgeous," a husky voice sneered, their breath hot against your neck. "Never seen you here before." You turned to see the person behind you, his smile was crooked and the stench of too many beers seeped through his pores. "Yeah, here with friends," you replied flatly, clearly uninterested. "What? You can't have one more?," his face twisted with annoyance, you wanted an excuse to escape.
"She was just leaving."
A familiar roughness and warmth pressed against exposed skin on the small of your back where your top began to ride up. A hand much larger than that creep, who was even angrier now. You recognized this voice, its depth and grit. The scent of him was more appealing, too. Cologne so expensive, it could only belong to one person. "Sylus?" He took your wrist and pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the slurred insults hurled at him in the process. "Why are you here?" Still no answer, but his body was trembling. "Where are my friends?" "They know you're with me." His pace was hurried, as if he was fighting the urge to turn around and give that low life a piece of his mind, or worse. An icy chill hit your face as the two of you burst through the exit and onto the sidewalk. "Sylus, stop!" You ripped your hand away, hugging yourself to brace against the frigid air, trying to conceal every shiver. Sylus paced, his breath leaving in hot, draconian puffs.
"You should have seen the way that scum was gawking at you–smelling like booze and filth–like you were his prey. I had to—."
"I don't even know why you give a fuck," you spat.
His expression fell, slightly wounded. However, the venom that dripped off your tongue didn't stop him from caring as he shook off his jacket and draped it over your trembling frame. A relieved sigh escaped you, the genuine leather trapped heat against your skin almost instantly. "You have every right to be upset, but don't get hypothermia in the process." Sylus curled an arm around you and began to walk. Your mouth betrayed you as a small grin curled at its edges, "thanks...so are you following me now, or something?"
Sylus chuckled, "'or something'...just..tying up loose ends." He wore a softer gaze now, the adrenaline worn off. "I didn't think I'd see you at that awful place, but something told me to go inside. I also wasn't expecting it to hurt this much to be apart." The ice around your heart cracked a fraction, but it was going to take more than a few sweet words to melt the barrier completely. Although, his jacket was very warm, it smelled nice too. Damn, maybe this was working a little bit. "Then why leave at all?"
"Too many prying eyes. I would rather disappear than risk dragging you into my mess." You came to a cross walk, waiting for the light to turn. Several miles and minutes had passed, the signal lights reflected off of puddles, painting the ground in multiple hues. When you finally took in your surroundings, you realized this was the same path home you took months back. Sylus remembered every shortcut and street name, that the lamp outside your apartment complex still needed a new bulb. Someone that wanted to disappear, to forget you for good, wouldn't bother with the details. Or come back at all.
"But if you'll allow it, I'd like to start over." His arm around your shoulder felt heavier, more secure, maybe even a silent claim. It was a sensation you wanted to push further. The alcohol had since left your system, your vision clear and mind firing. You’d address your anger later, even if you hated how your feelings for him were speaking over practicality. This raw, undoubted want was much, much louder.
"On one condition," you said, turning your key in the lock. The warmth returning in your voice was an invitation, as was the tug you gave his arm, pulling him inside. Your living room was lit by a few dim lamps, just enough that you could see Sylus breathing a bit heavier, the crimson shade of his eyes gleaming brighter. You shrugged out of his jacket and sank into that familiar dent in your couch.
"You dance for me, again."
——
Music played off your phone's speaker, the same sensual melody that played all those nights ago. He started with his shoes, toeing out of each one, laces undisturbed. The fluffy carpet absorbed his footsteps as he neared the couch with a leisurely stride. Slender fingers worked at each button of his dress shirt, baring his tanned skin and prominent muscles. You watched the garment fall before letting your eyes drag up the length of his lean torso. There was a vein that ran from his wrist to his bicep, thick and protruding. Thoughts of tracing it with your tongue made you cross your legs so tight they could cramp. Sylus was much closer now, hands resting on his belt. The subtle sway of his hips evolved into a strong, hypnotic rotation. He unclasped the restraint, eyes lidded as he gazed downward.
"Help me," he instructed, low and honeyed.
The leather hissed as you pulled it free, letting it hit the carpet. You had half a mind to reach for his zipper, but stopped before the nerves sent the signal to your hands. Sylus wasn't so shy, dragging it down himself, ensuring you heard the teeth's buzz. There was no time limit now, no friends waiting for you outside the door. Just you, him and the thick rising heat between your bodies. "You know...," Sylus purred, "you're still allowed to touch. I'm in your territory this time." With his consent granted, you smoothed your fingers down his sides, tracing every ridge and valley. A sound escaped him that bordered on a moan and it didn't go unnoticed. Sylus straddled your body, knees on either side, body rolling in slow, agonizing waves. He was a tower so grand and powerful above you, one that you were dying to climb. "Sylus–."
"That night...months ago. I was dishonest, I didn't admit how badly I wanted you. I made you decide where things should go." He stood again, stripping down to nothing but skin tight briefs. "But now, I'm having trouble holding back." Sylus hoisted you into his arms. Your hands splayed across his chest, eyes level, mouths just inches apart. He secured your thighs around his waist.
"Then don't," you exhaled, heart pounding behind your ribs.
There was no hesitation as he leaned in, capturing your bottom lip. The kiss was gentle at first, a peak at his growing desire. Then it deepened as his tongue pushed its way inside your mouth and slid between your teeth. Sylus groaned, his grip on your waist went from tender to bruising. Your bodies fell back on the sofa, with your thighs framing him this time. You sank into his lap and felt the evidence of his need against your core. A hiss ripped from his lips, "patience, Kitten...no need to rush–."
You ground harder, lowering your mouth to his ear, "how do I know you wont leave me again?" His large hand curled around the back of your neck, lips moving to meet yours. "I never want to be without you, I can’t bear it." This kiss tasted different now, reverent, pleading for forgiveness. You whimpered, melting into his embrace, "then show me you'll stay." Sylus flipped your body, caging you against the cushions. His eyes were hazy, face flushed from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. "I will show you every day if I have to." You sighed at the press of his lips on your neck. He trailed them down to your collar bone, one hand slithering up your stomach. "May I?," he asked, toying with the thin strap falling off your shoulder.
"Please."
The fabric tickled as he swept it up and off your torso. His eyes raked over your bare chest, watching the rise and fall of your desperate breath. Sylus palmed your breast, his thumb traced slow circles around your hardening nipple. "So soft...," he admired, lowering his mouth. His tongue was so warm, it lapped and flicked greedily at the bud. "S-Sylus...mmh.." He hummed, giving your other breast equal attention, "more?" You nodded. "Use your words, Kitten."
"Yes, yes I want more."
His mouth descended lower, leaving wet open-mouth kisses on your stomach. Deft fingers dove beneath the waistband of your jeans, "lift your hips." You obeyed, feeling the cool air against your now bare thighs. Sylus lied flat on his stomach, biceps coiling around your legs. He cursed beneath his breath at the sight of the damp stain darkening your panties. "God, look at you..." He pulled them away, humming erotically, "do you know how badly I've wanted to taste you?" Your hands carded through his hair, locking tight around the roots at the first drag of his tongue. "Fuck, Sylus–" His grip became more possessive, face pushing further into your heat. The broad hump of his nose nudged your clit again and again, putting an arch in your spine. Two fingers slid inside and your moans echoed in unison as he pumped at a tortuous pace. You had no idea such pleasure could exist and be given to you so willingly. As if your sounds and taste weren't a gift to Sylus, themselves. A privilege to experience first hand. Every lap and suck was a 'thank you' and this bout of gratefulness had only just begun.
His free hand smoothed over your chest, kneading softly as you continued falling apart against his mouth. "So–mmh–sweet," he groaned, catching the look in your eyes before they rolled back. You could feel his grin curl against your flesh, the breathy chuckle he gave in response to your whines. "What's–ah–so–mmm..funny?," you strained, propping yourself on your elbows. Sylus pulled back, soaked from lips to chin. He kissed a path along your inner thigh, the softness a stark contrast to how greedily he devoured you. "Those sounds...and the look on your face, so cute...," he smiled, fondly this time.
"Now..."
He lowered again, dragging his tongue from entrance to clit.
"Let me make up for lost time."
The reintroduction, the warmth and wetness, made you gasp and squeeze your thighs firmly around his head. The building pressure in your lower belly almost felt foreign after going so long without this kind of pleasure. The kind that blurred your vision and scrambled thoughts that no longer mattered–you almost forgot how angry you were that he left. The louder you moaned, the deeper he dove inside, like oxygen was a second thought. "Let go, Kitten. You've waited so long, held yourself back. I can handle everything you have to give me." He was right, you deserved to be selfish and Sylus's generosity was infinite. It overflowed in the form of praise and stimulation. Heat crawled up your spine before it bowed off the cushions once more and your cries echoed unapologetically. Sylus crashed with you, cushioning your fall with sloppy kisses to your lower lips. He moaned as the taste of you saturated his tongue, "you made such a mess…good girl."
———
It was late again, and as much as you tried to fight the drowsiness, exhaustion won. You remembered the soft kiss to your temple, your body suddenly floating off the couch and the familiar hug of your mattress. Sylus sat at its edge, watching the rise and fall of your chest. His hand ran down the length of your hair, curling the ends around his fingertip. "You're falling asleep," he soothed. You said something, grumbly and muffled by a mountain of pillows. He chuckled quietly, "what was that?" "Didn't do anything...to you...," you sighed. His brow furrowed, "Kitten..."
"I wanted to.."
His gaze softened, that pouty kitten expression he adored was all he needed. "You don't owe me anything, I'm perfectly satisfied."
"Mm...but you'll stay, right?"
That question was answered the next morning. The normally empty space beside you was sunken down by a new weight. Steady breath blew against the back of your neck and a pair of arms were around your waist. "Sylus?," you asked, voice edged with sleep.
"Mm?"
"Nothing, just...making sure I wasn't dreaming." You turned to face him, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. He smelled like a slow morning, a warm musk that had you chasing the scent. “I never go back on a promise,” he said, you liked his voice when it was raw with sleep. Sylus tightened his embrace, kissing your forehead, letting his lips linger before pulling away. “More,” you hummed drowsily. “Sorry?,” he huffed, but with a grin on his face.
“More kisses, now preferably.”
He couldn’t deny such a demand, pressing his lips anywhere they could touch. Your mouth searched for his. When you finally kissed, it was savored slowly, without a care for morning breath. Sylus pulled your bodies flush, groaning low when your leg swung over his hip. You could feel his growing erection, and he wasn’t trying to keep it from you this time.
“Mmh, Sy…”
“Yes?”
Your hand slipped from his hair, dragging down his chest and abdomen before palming the bulge.
“I want this too, please.”
His fingers laced around your wrist, “behave, I’ll give it to you.” The sound of thin fabric dragging down skin filled your ears and the calm, sleepy pulse in your chest grew feverish. Sylus was finally pulled free, warm and resting against your still clothed self. The heat radiated through your underwear, you could feel a prominent vein with the smallest shift of his hips. You moaned quietly to yourself, pushing the garment down and off your ankles. Sylus hissed when he felt how ready you were. “So wet,” he groaned, sliding his cock between your folds, molding his hands to your waist. You ground against him and he followed your rhythm, needy and uneven, hungry with want. “Fuck me, Sylus…please.” A growl rumbled in his chest, he felt hotter in just seconds. Dewy beads of sweat clung to his furrowed brow. “I’ll admit, I like hearing you beg.”
“Please,” you repeated, muffled into his neck, “please…please…please.”
Your supplications earned the first inch of him, the slow stretch feeling like bliss rather than ache. He took his time with you, cataloging every sound and shuddered breath to memory. When he was fully sat inside you, there was a pause in his movements. “I want to feel you,” he sighed, “just…like this.” The intimacy of this kind of closeness, connected at the hip, heartbeats in sync, was like nothing you’d ever felt.
“Sylus…”
“Mmh?”
“Don’t leave…don’t disappear..”
He cradled the back of your head, “I won’t.” His fingers tangled into the hair at your nape, gently tugging your eyes on his. “Focus on me right here, right now. I’m with you.” The sunlight danced in his ruby eyes and painted his features in a soft, golden haze. Your breaths mingled in the closeness, leaving in heavy gusts at the crest of your release. “Right there, god–right there..,” you mewled, scratching faint red lines into Sylus’s back. His hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. It was already humming with sensation, the new contact had your eyes stinging with tears, walls clenching in fluttering pulses. “I’m yours,” he confessed, sucking a mark into your neck.
“Now say it back.”
“Sylus—I’m-,”
“I know you’re close,” he rasped, hands ironclad on your hips. “Say it, I want you to claim what’s yours.”
A lump formed in your throat, you weren’t sure if the new tears streaming down your cheeks were from his words or the strength of his thrusts. Words crawled up your throat like fire just as your legs began to tremble, as you fell apart in his arms.
“You’re mine. Yes, Sylus, you’re mine.”
His hips stuttered then stilled before you felt the warmth of his release. Sylus’s forehead fell to your shoulder, muscles softening as the high waned. He kissed the budding mark on your neck, then your jaw, saving your lips for last. They were puffy and flushed, slotting perfectly with his. He tasted like warmth breath, promises and new beginnings. “Mine,” you repeated against his lips.
He hummed, hugging you close to his chest.
“Yours.”
That’s where you stayed for a long while, tangled in soft bedding and warm beams of sunlight pouring in through sheer drapes. Sleep came and went well into the afternoon. Eventually, you left the sanctuary of bedsheets and retreated to the shower, Sylus following closely behind. He looked different with his hair damp and pushed back, even more handsome than he needed to be. As he dressed, his eyes fixed on the marks left just hours before, “you really didn’t want me to leave, hm?”
“You can go now, if you wanna be cocky,” you retorted, giving him a playful shove.
“I do have to go, but it’s not because I want to…”
You watched him fasten the last few buttons on his shirt, “duty calls, huh?”
“Unfortunately.”
A frown pulled at your lips, but faded as Sylus took hold of your chin. “It’s just for a few days, think you can wait for me?”
“I guess that’s alright.”
He chuckled, “so stubborn,” then tapped his lips with his finger.
It wasn’t a kiss goodbye, not this time. Just, ‘see you in a few days’. But it lingered like it could be your last, like he wanted to memorize the shape of your lips and the taste of your breath.
“Come back in one piece.”
Sylus grinned, halfway out the door, “not a single hair will be out of place.”
You listened to his footsteps disappear down the hall, to the faint ding of the elevator.
“Good.”
*~*~*
a/n: goodness! This was a long writing process. I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading and as always comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated. Please do not plagiarize, repost or feed into ai.
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Xavier loves missionary just so he can hover above you, forearms and biceps flexing as he rolls his hips deep and hard just so he can watch your breasts move.
He’s not shy about it either, purposely pinning your wrists to the mattress so you can’t try and cover yourself. Tutting at you for even attempting to hide from him.
Sapphire eyes locked in on the way your breasts move in such an addictive fluid motion as his cock drills into your sweet, sticky cunt. “Nothing to be ashamed of, my star.”
Still, you find it humiliating as your breasts nearly hit your chin. The rocking motion of his hips rolling into your body brings you enough pleasure that it nearly drowns it out.
Nearly.
“Xavier!” You manage to rasp, tears blurring your vision from pleasure and embarrassment. The conflicting sensations so overwhelming that you can’t help but clamp down around every inch of his velvety cock.
“S’nothing to be embarrassed about, you’re so pretty. My pretty star, all for me, yeah?” He knows, this isn’t the first time you’ve gotten awfully shy about the movement in your body when he fucks you. It’s baffling to him that you think he’d see this as anything other than purely addictive.
A Protocore sends you and Sylus three years into the future, where you end up crammed in a closet learning things you were never meant to know.🩷🩷
Caleb's part here Xavier's part here
CW: Smut. P in V. Oral. 🔞MDNI🔞
You were not thinking about it. You were not staring at your ceiling thinking about the N109 Zone or the man who ran it. That was not what was happening. What was happening was that you were resting. Quietly. In your own apartment, which you had every right to be in, doing absolutely nothing that involved Sylus in any way whatsoever.
Work had filled most of your time this week. Back to back missions, three cases that bled into each other, a Thursday briefing that ate the entire day. The Association had kept you moving and moving was good. Moving meant you weren't sitting still long enough to think about things you should not be thinking about.
The problem was tonight there was nothing to move toward.
You'd slowed down. Today's mission had seen to that —a clean operation until it wasn't, until you'd caught the edge of something you'd moved a second too late to avoid and ended up limping through the debrief trying to look unbothered. The Association medic had looked at your leg, told you to rest it, and now you were on your couch. Leg up. Thinking.
You'd worked with Sylus enough times to understand how your arrangement functioned, he had access to things the Association didn't and in exchange you'd give him information he found useful. You showed up. He had what you needed. You left. Repeat.
That part made sense.
What didn't was the rest of it. The part where two weeks of silence felt different now. He was the most wanted name on the Association's list and you were a Deepspace Hunter. The math on that was simple.
So no, you did not miss Sylus.
Your leg throbbed. You shifted your weight and stared at the ceiling again, trying to have an internal conversation about professional conduct and the importance of clear boundaries and then your phone lit up.
You grabbed it so fast you nearly put your elbow through the side table.
Sylus: I heard your mission went sideways. How's the leg?
You: How did you...you know what. Never mind.
Sylus: Mephisto was nearby.
You: You sent your bird to check on me?
Sylus: Mephisto goes where he likes.
You: 🙄🙄
Sylus: He said you were limping.
You: Tell Mephisto to mind his own business.
Sylus: He'll be devastated.
You: Good.
Sylus: I have something that might interest you. Have you ever seen a white Protocore?
You: White Protocores don't exist. Whatever you have is a fake.
Sylus: The seller pulled it from an anomalous Wanderer outside the N109 zone.
You sat with that for a moment.
Sylus: Come see it yourself. You'll want to.
The color alone was impossible by every known framework for protocore classification. Which meant either the seller was running an extremely convincing con, or something had come out of that wanderer that nobody had a category for yet.
Your feet were already on the floor.
You: Don't let anyone touch it. Give me 20 min.
Sylus: No need to rush, kitten. Look out your window.
You crossed the room in four steps and pulled the curtain back an inch.
Black car at the curb. No-parking sign directly above it, ignored completely. Sylus leaned against the driver's side door looking up at exactly the moment you looked down.
He raised his phone.
Sylus: Five minutes. Or I decide the leg is worse than you're letting on and leave.
You let the curtain fall.
"Not a chance," you said, to nobody.
You changed fast —jeans, jacket, hair up, sidearm checked —and ran down the stairs in a time your leg was going to remind you about tomorrow. The night air outside hit you cool and sharp.
Sylus hadn't moved from the car. He looked at you coming through the door, down the steps toward him and said nothing until you were close enough to hear.
"You ran down the stairs?"
"I want to see that Protocore."
"Of course." His mouth curved and there it was, the look that sat underneath the smirk, the one you'd filed away and kept finding again. "That's the only reason."
"It is"
"Then why are you still standing here instead of getting in the car."
You pulled the passenger door open yourself before he could do it, which seemed to amuse him. The interior smelled like expensive leather and him.
He slid in beside you, started the engine— the sound of it vibrating through the seat— and pulled away from the curb without looking at the road for the first two seconds because he was still looking at you.
"My people investigated as much as they could." He shifted gears, smooth and unhurried. "Which is why I need someone who knows what a forgery looks like at that level."
"But you also have people for that"
"I have people for a lot of things." He glanced over. Red eyes catching the streetlight for just a second. "None of them are you."
You looked out the window " Is that a compliment?"
"I didn't say it was."
The N109 Zone came up around you, neon and dark in equal measure, a place that operated on entirely different rules than Linkon City. You'd been here more times than your Association file strictly reflected. You knew the streets. You knew the hierarchy. You knew which doors opened for which names. All thanks to the man sitting in the driver's seat.
You had no idea what a white Protocore was. You had no idea what tonight was going to become but you had a feeling you were about to find out.
His office, you knew this place better than your own.
The reinforced doors. The security overrides, which ones were decoys and which ones actually mattered. The hidden safes, three of them, one behind a painting ugly enough to be forgettable on purpose. You'd learned all of it slowly, standing close enough and quiet enough that he forgot you were paying attention.
The White Protocore sat inside a glass tube at the center of his desk, and you hadn't moved in two minutes.
It looked like the others at first. Same crystalline structure, same geometry. But every other Protocore carried color, blue, gold, pink, red, green and purple. This one just a faint pulse, soft milky light spilling across the dark wood. Strange and uncategorizable.
Sylus wasn't looking at the protocore, he was watching you. His eyes were tracing the curve of your jaw, the focus on your expression. In his world of cutthroat deals and rare power, you were his white protocore.
The back of your neck went warm but you kept your eyes on the protocore.
"Can I touch it?"
A low sound from his chest. Not quite a laugh. "I don't recall ever saying no to you, sweetie."
His fingers worked the glass tube open and lifted the protocore into his palm.
You reached for it.
Your fingers brushed his skin and the protocore sat between your hands for a single second and then —
No warning. Just white light swallowing the desk and the dark walls. Then the wind hit, not from outside but from inside the protocore, like a vacuum pulling in with a force that emptied your lungs before you could inhale. The sound of it was scary, like space tearing apart. The air collapsed into that small white light in your hands, the floor dropped away and you were falling without falling.
The first thing that came back was pressure.
Arms locked across your chest and shoulders, tight enough your ribs couldn't move. Something solid at your back. You tried to breathe. Couldn't. Tried again.
"Sy" Barely a whisper. "Can't— brea—"
His arms dropped instantly.
He was on his feet before you inhaled, one fluid motion, hand going to his gun, eyes sweeping the room. No targets. His hand dropped, but his shoulders stayed coiled, still reading the space.
You sat up. Pulled air in slowly until your chest stopped aching.
"Where are we?"
He didn't answer. Still looking.
You looked too.
Dark wood, heavy draping, expensive things chosen for use as much as looks. It felt like his place at first glance.
In the corner was a record player, vinyl turning silently, needle down, producing nothing. Beside it a bookshelf climbed straight to the ceiling, a ladder running the whole length on a track.
On the low table in front of the couch sat two glasses of wine. One half empty. Whoever had been drinking had stepped away expecting to come right back.
You stood slowly.
Sylus had crossed to the far side of the room. His head was angled down at something on the shelf.
You crossed after him, boots loud on the floor.
"Sylus."
He didn't turn.
You came up beside him, followed his eyeline, and stopped.
A photograph. You in your Hunter uniform with a different insignia of a rank you didn't hold yet, holding a trophy. Your smile in the photo was wide open and unguarded, a version of happy you didn't wear on your face very often.
There was a small engraved plaque at the bottom of the frame.
Hunter of the Year — November 2051.
You picked up a magazine beside it.
Your face on the cover. Same uniform, same trophy, same smile. Hunter of the Year in bold letters across the top. Small print in the corner, neat and impossible.
November 2051.
You set it down carefully.
Behind you, Sylus had already moved to the mahogany desk near the windows. Papers shifted. Folders opened and closed. His hands stayed busy and his face gave nothing.
"Sylus." You kept your voice steady. "Look at me."
He didn't.
You crossed to the desk and placedd your hand flat over the document he was holding.
"Three years," he was staring at nothing in particular, whatever was running behind his eyes not making it to his face.
You looked at the half empty glass. The record player still turning in silence. A coat hanging by the door.
"Sylus."
"I see it."
"That's your coat."
"This is one of my safehouses"
"Since when do you keep pictures of the Association Hunters? Last I checked you called us glorified errand runners."
A slow smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth "I've got a taste for beautiful art, sweetie, and maybe I like having a permanent reminder of my favorite headache."
"I'm not your—"
"Someone's coming." his eyes sharpened, hand closing around your wrist.
"Who—"
"This way." He was already pulling you toward a closet.
He yanked the door open expecting to see his weapons.
There were no rifles or guns, just stacked piles of the same magazine you saw earlier, floor to ceiling, your face on every cover, hundreds of them.
"Do you also collect magazines?" you asked, fighting to keep your voice down as he shoved you into the tiny space and squeezed in after you, pulling the door shut. "This is a lot of me for one closet"
"If you keep talking you're going to get us both caught."
You bit down on a laugh and then it died in your throat completely.
The door clicked open and Sylus stepped into the room.
You gasped, turning on instinct to check whether he had somehow warped himself out there with his Evol, but he hadn't moved an inch.
Future Sylus's hair was a mess, like he'd run his hands over it more than once, and a bit longer than you were used to. His shirt was wrinkled, streaked faintly with mud, stretched tight across shoulders that looked broader than the ones currently pressed beside you in the dark. There was more color in his face too, like time had put some weather on him. He paced the length of the room like a caged animal, fists clenching and releasing at his sides. He stopped mid stride, head turning like he'd caught a sound in the room, inside Sylus's hand shot out, closing around your wrist as one finger came up to his lips, a silent order to stay quiet.
Then the door opened again, and future you walked in.
She looked pissed. Shirt torn at the shoulder, soot and dirt ground into the fabric, but her eyes were lit up with anger.
She was you, there was no doubt about that, but she was different. There was more color to her face too and her body was softer in some places, sturdier in others.
"You had no right, Sylus!" She slammed the door behind her "I can still fight! I had that under control!"
"You almost got killed" Sylus didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. Whatever was in his tone was cold enough to make the room feel smaller.
"That's a fucking lie and you know it!" She crossed the space between them fast, jabbing a finger into his chest. "I'm not some damsel for you to decide when I fight and when I don't!"
Beside you Sylus dipped his head, lips grazing the shell of your ear. "Different year. Same feisty kitten." His breath felt warm against your neck.
"Shut up, Sylus. Shut up" you hissed, elbowing him in the ribs. He huffed out a quiet laugh like you'd done him a favor.
Outside, the fight kept climbing.
"You think you can pull me off a fight and take me wherever you want?" her voice bounced off the ceiling. "I'm a Hunter, Sylus. I'm not joining Onychinus. Not now, not ever, no matter how many times you bring it up."
"You've made that perfectly clear."
"It's my job, Sy"
"Not anymore, it isn't."
"You don't get to make that call for me!"
He didn't answer with words. He started walking her back instead, one slow step for every one she gave up without notice, until her spine hit the ladder bolted to the bookshelf.
She was out of room. He planted a hand on either side of her head against the wooden rungs, boxing her in.
"Are you sure about that, sweetie?" Not a question so much as a challenge.
"We don't even know ye— get out of my space!"
"Make me."
Their faces were a breath apart now, close enough that the argument had stopped sounding like an argument. Through the door you felt the air on the other side change, something thick and charged, like the silence that comes right before either a fight or something worse. Your face went hot just watching it, the line between the two of them hating each other and wanting each other collapsing.
"I hate you"
"Good," he murmured so close to her lips. "You can hate me all you want, Mrs. Qin. You're still wearing my ring."
He closed the distance, hand curling around the back of her neck, and kissed her like it was the only thing he had left to say.
Beside you Sylus went completely still.
Future you made a sound against his lips that started as surprise and turned into moan, her hands coming up to grip his shirt before she dropped them and grabbed him instead.
You turned to look at Sylus, his eyes dropped to yours and a slow smile moved across his mouth and your stomach went with it.
His shirt hit the floor first, hers followed.
Future Sylus lifted her off the floor and settled her onto a rung of the ladder. She grabbed the rung above her head to steady herself and he stepped back just far enough to look at her, taking his time with it while she sat there catching her breath.
Then he reached for her boots.
He pulled the first one off, fingers working the laces without looking down, eyes on her face the whole time. The second followed. He set his hands on her knees and dragged them up her thighs and she made a small sound before he'd even done anything.
His mouth found her collarbone. Moved down. The thin lace of her bra was still on and he put his lips over it anyway, tongue pressing through the fabric against her nipple, and her head went back against the ladder. He bit down through the fabric, and the sound she made was immediate.
You pressed your hand to your mouth.
He did it again on the other side, slower, and her knuckles went white on the rung above her while her hips moved forward looking for something that wasn't there yet.
He kissed down her sternum. The soft skin below her ribs. His mouth dragged across her stomach and she was already breathing in pieces by the time his hands moved to her pants. He worked them down her legs and off, then dropped to his knees.
You made a small sound against your hand.
He was now on his knees between her thighs, hands finding the backs of them, hooking her legs one at a time over his shoulders. The muscles in his arms and neck shifted with the motion and he settled her weight there easily, like he'd done it before. Because in three years he had. Many times. You could tell by how she exhaled when her legs landed on his shoulders— relief. Her whole body recognizing what was coming.
He looked up at her.
Hands spread across her inner thighs, holding them open, red eyes on her face, waiting.
She looked down at him.
Her chest was moving fast. Her lip caught between her teeth. She held his gaze for one long second and then, quietly, barely enough to hear—
"Please."
His fingers found her thong and pulled it to the side.
One hand went to his hair, pulling him in, the other stayed above her head. Her nipples hard against the wet lace.
Every sound came through clearly. His mouth on her wet pussy. Her breathing. Your face burned. Other things burned. You pressed your thighs together and it didn't help because the sounds didn't stop.
You turned to look at him again.
His right eye burned red in the dark closet. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm that wasn't steady.
"Sy—"
"Don't stop." Future you's voice came through the door, breathless. "Fuck, Sy...just like that."
Your face went hotter and you faced forward again.
Sylus exhaled against your hair. His hand was still on your wrist. Neither of you had moved it.
He made a sound against her and the sounds that followed were louder and wetter.
Your fingers found the front of his jacket and held on.
"Is this affecting you?" he asked, right against your ear.
"Shut up."
Then her voice again, completely gone, nothing held back. "Yes — baby, my clit, suck on it — fuck yes—"
His hand tightened on your wrist. Hard.
"Sylus." Your voice came out dry. Broken in the middle. Not what you'd intended at all.
"I know," he said.
Future you screamed his name. The closet pressed in from all sides.
"We need to leave"
"Yes," he agreed, but neither of you moved.
Her thighs locked around his shoulders and shook. He stayed until the last tremor left her. Then he stood, chest glistening, and his hands dropped to the button of his trousers.
Popped it open. Pushed the fabric down his thighs.
The outline of his cock through the fabric of his underwear made your throat close. The tip already wet, a dark circle spreading through the cotton, and his fingers found the waistband—
A large hand came down over your eyes.
"Hey—" You grabbed his wrist. His fingers didn't move.
"If you want a show," his voice low at your ear, "you only have to ask."
"Move your hand." You twisted your head. His palm stayed exactly where it was.
Dark behind it.
Then the sounds hit again.
Slap.
Slap.
Slap.
Skin against skin. Her voice breaking between each impact, the sounds coming in waves that your brain immediately started filling in visuals for and that was so much worse than if he'd just let you look.
"You're burning up," he said against your ear, not in concern but in pure mockery.
Your thighs pressed together hard. "I swear to god—"
His fingers spread open.
She was still on the ladder. Legs locked around his waist, both of them flushed, sweat catching the light. He had one hand on her hair, holding her close to his face, their mouths almost touching, breathing the same air while his hips rolled forward in deep slow drives that shook her whole body. He was saying something to her, too low to carry, but whatever it was kept fracturing her expression every time he said it.
Then his voice came through clearly.
"Look at me." Steady, even over everything else. "Tell me who you belong to."
Her tongue dragged across his upper lip. "Yours—" Her head dropped back. "Ah— yours, Sy, I'm yours—"
Your underwear felt damp and your clit was pulsing with a persistence you were doing your very best to ignore.
"Do you really think," Sylus whiapered against your temple, "it takes us three whole years to get here?"
"I don't—"
Future Sylus pulled back, his tongue dragged slow up her throat while she panted against his shoulder. "You taste different today."
"Because you're—" she gasped, "—you're driving me insane—"
"That's not it." He pushed forward, one deep thrust that tore a cry out of her "You shouldn't be taking field hits right now." A beat. "Not when you're carrying my child."
The closet went cold.
Your jaw dropped. Hers did too.
Pregnant.
The argument. Him yanking her off the mission. All of it clicked into place at once. She was carrying his baby. In three years, you'd be carrying his kid.
Your knees went out from under you.
Your foot caught on something hard as you stumbled back. A stack of magazines toppled with the movement, and everything blurred, sound, vision, all of it going soft at the edges.
"—watch—"
Crimson light cracked through the dark. Sylus's Evol flared, and every falling magazine froze mid air.
The energy didn't stay contained. It rolled out through the closet door and everything on the other side went dead silent.
The sounds stopped. All of them. What replaced the noise had weight to it.
Sylus's eyes were locked on the door. Jaw tight. Not a muscle moving.
"Pathetic," future Sylus said, clear, not a trace of what he'd been doing thirty seconds earlier, "a top tier Hunter and the leader of Onychinus, hiding like toddlers playing hide and seek."
Your stomach dropped straight through the floor.
"Sylus?" Future you, breathless, confused. "Who are you talking—"
"I know you're in there." He sounded almost bored. "You're both breathing like horny teenagers."
Beside you, Sylus exhaled through his nose and reached out to push the door open. "I could say the same"
He stepped out first, glanced down at his sleeve, and flicked off a piece of lint that probably wasn't there. Then he reached back, hooked an arm around your waist, and pulled you out with him. You stumbled onto the polished floor, face burning hot enough to set the room on fire.
Future Sylus had future you pulled against him, her bra strap slipping off one shoulder, hair a wreck, and she was staring between the two of you with her mouth hanging open.
"Is that—" Her eyes went from you to the Sylus standing next to you and back again. "Are we— are they—"
Sylus looked at his future self. Future Sylus looked right back.
Three seconds of silence passed between them, and somehow it felt like an entire conversation.
"You look good," Sylus said.
"And you are interrupting," future Sylus said, arm tightening around future you.
You stopped watching the two of them and scanned the room instead.
There. The White Protocore, sitting beside the wine bottle, pulsing soft in the low light.
You moved before anyone could stop you, crossed the room, and closed your hand around it.
Sylus was right behind you. His hand landed over yours, the stone was caught between your palms again, warm and humming under your skin. He tossed one last glance over his shoulder at his future self and smirked.
White swallowed everything. The floor vanished, and then thud.
The familiar light of his office in the N109 Zone.
You were flat on your back, staring at the ceiling, just breathing.
The Protocore rolled out of your hand and knocked against the leg of his desk before it dissolved into dust.
Sylus sat up, forearm braced on a raised knee, and looked down at you, smirk already back in place. His gaze dropped to your mouth, your throat, the way your chest was still heaving.
"So," he said, leaning over you with one hand braced on the floor beside your head. "A baby."
You threw an arm over your face. "I will shoot you again."
"I'm just thinking ahead." His fingers found a strand of your hair "Sounds like we've got a lot of work to do in the next three years, Miss hunter."
“Drop these off in Master Sukuna’s chambers,” Uraume instructed, handing you a stack of dark red linens. “Place them on the low table when you walk in.”
“Okay,” you nodded as you accepted the stack of silks. You chose not to comment on the way Uraume wiped their hands on their robes after your hands briefly brushed.
“Should I knock or just walk in?”
“He shouldn’t be there right now, so just walk in. He’s attending to personal matters. If he is there, stay silent and keep your head down,” said Uraume, lips etched into a permanent half-scowl.
Although they had never said it out loud, everyone knew that Uraume put Sukuna high above everyone else, followed by themself and then all the servants.
“Of course,” you nodded again, nervous to be sent off into Sukuna’s chambers.
You, along with most of the servants, did your best to stay as far away from him as possible. Keep to yourself, stay out of the way, and do your best to get by.
You’d never even dared enter his private wing of the estate.
“And remember,” Uraume’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “No matter what you do, do not disturb him.”
You’d barely stepped out of the doorway before you heard Uraume scolding another meek servant, already moved onto the seemingly never ending to-do list they filled their days with.
Sliding the door shut behind you, you nervously made your way across the estate. The further you went, the more sparse the servants were, and you only prayed that Sukuna wasn’t there.
It wasn’t a secret that he preferred to be alone. No personal servants, besides Uraume, of course, no advisors, no concubines, not even any family.
Those who dared try to impose themselves on his life often ended up with a few less limbs than the average person.
Your footsteps seemed to echo through the silent hallway. You had finally arrived just outside his bedroom and there wasn’t another soul in sight.
Swallowing your nerves, you tilted your head downward and opened the door.
You stood still in the doorway.
Recalling Uraume’s orders, you kept your eyes trained on your feet until you were sure nobody was going to yell at you or kill you on the spot.
You finally walked two steps over to the mahogony table and quietly set down the linens.
Now what? Just leave?
The silence seemed ever consuming.
Clearly nobody was in the room, it wouldn’t hurt to take a peek, would it?
Wrong.
You lifted your head up just enough to sweep your eyes over the expanse of the room.
Large desk, large bed, and–oh, fuck.
Sukuna, right in the middle of the bed, staring at you as he held his cocks in his hands.
Two?
You couldn’t help your eyes from widening, mouth dropped open in a little ‘o’ shape as you processed what you were seeing.
Clearly, your instincts needed sharpening to allow you to just openly gape at Sukuna.
It was just so hard to look away from the way he used both of his right hands to stroke himself.
Two cocks stacked on top of each other, each one thick and dripping.
He wasn’t stopping, even with your staring, and you realize he must’ve just been waiting for you to get the hell out of there.
You must have been staring for a while, because his scoff suddenly snapped you out of your thoughts.
“Are you just going to stand there gawking?” He asked, voice low and annoyed.
“N-no! Sorry,” you quickly corrected yourself, bowing your head as you rushed to leave the room.
You turned as fast as you could, hoping he’d decide to let you keep all your limbs if you got out quick enough.
Just as you were a step away from the door, his voice called out to you.
“I didn’t say you could leave.”
That’s it. This was the end.
You paused in the doorway and hesitantly turned around, eyes once again trained on the ground.
“Did someone send you here, or did you wander in all on your own?”
You swallowed. “Uraume sent me to deliver some fabrics.”
“Look up when I’m speaking to you,” he commanded.
You lifted your head up, eyes trained on his face so as to not watch the hypnotizing way he stroked himself.
“That’s better,” he commented dryly, eyes not-so subtly looking you up and down before one corner of his mouth lifted up in a grin. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it a few moments ago.”
“I apologize, Master Sukuna,” you said, ready to get down on your knees and pray for forgiveness if you needed to. “Please forgive me. I didn’t intend to intrude.”
“Hm,” the grin disappeared to be replaced by a neutral expression you couldn’t dissect. “Come here.”
Yup. Definitely the end.
You stiffly walked across the room over to where he was sprawled out on his bed. He hadn’t let up his motions, palms dragging up and down and up and down repeatedly.
“You just couldn’t help your curiosity, could you?” He asked, eyes taking a better look at you as you stood at the edge of his bed. “Stop shaking. If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.”
As calming as the words should be, they didn’t do much to reassure you of your safety.
He rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “So fragile.”
You stood there stiffly, only looking at his face as you nervously awaited your next instructions.
He exhaled in frustration.
“You very rudely interrupted me with your staring,” he said dryly. You opened your mouth to apologize again, but he cut you off before you had the chance. “Stop. You can help me to make up for it.”
You closed your mouth.
“How?”
He said nothing, simply nodding at his lower half with his chin.
“What?” Your eyes widened, immediately understanding what he wanted your help with. “But–two!”
He raised an eyebrow. “That wasn’t an issue when you were gawking earlier.”
“Um,” you were at a loss for words, simultaneously embarrassed and scared for what was to happen.
“Relax,” he huffed. “I’m not going to fuck you.”
That did nothing to help your nerves.
You couldn’t deny he was attractive. Very, if you were being honest with yourself and the nights you shamefully let your hand slip under the waistband of your pants. It’s just that the attractiveness doesn’t cancel out the intimidation and the knowledge of the crimes he’s committed.
“Then what do you want?” You dared to finally ask.
“Start by getting on the bed.”
You blinked, swallowing your pride and finally lifting yourself up on the plush mattress to sit yourself in between his massive legs.
You looked at him for directions.
“You have two hands, use them.”
Breath hitching, you reached a tentative hand out to replace the one covering the cock closest to his stomach. The hand absolutely dwarfed yours.
As you wrapped your hand around his length, you frowned as you realized it barely covered anything and one hand on each would do almost nothing.
Everything about this man was huge.
He must have sensed your thoughts, because he suddenly spoke in that low timbre.
“It doesn’t matter.” Lidded eyes looked down at you. “Do what you can. You’ll have time to learn more later.”
You didn’t dwell on the words, giving an experimental stroke to his cock, flushed red and already leaking down over your hand.
It was captivating.
"They wont bite."
You didn’t waste any time before taking the other one out of his hand and starting to work it.
You heard the amused chuckle rumble his chest above you, but it only encouraged you further.
Biting your lip, you squeezed both cocks gently as you moved your hands up and down in sync.
Every twitch in your hands let you feel every thick vein running along the shafts, both cocks curved downward.
Although you didn’t look away from the mesmerizing mess in your hand, you noticed the way his head started to tilt backwards from pleasure.
You continued to pump them together, more precum spilling onto your fingers every time your fist lifted from the thick bases up to the tips.
Not much longer later, his chest started to rise and fall in an irregular rhythm.
He was even more attractive like this, you thought, eyes back up on his face instead of the warmth in your hands.
You could tell he was keeping himself quiet on purpose. Eyes almost all the way shut, he still let out a few unsteady breaths and you clung onto those breathy sounds coming from his lips.
Everything about this was hypnotizing.
From the way his cocks sat flushed and heavy in your hands to the tattooed muscles along his torso to the way he pretended not to be affected, you took all of it in and kept the memory for safekeeping.
The warmth of him finally spilling into your hands snapped you out of your thoughts. You focused back on that, speeding up the friction on his cocks as he came on your fists.
He hissed, head thrown back against the pillow as your movements spurred him on through his release.
You had a hard time tearing your eyes away from his face, his jaw clenched until the bottom half of his eyes looked down at you.
“Good,” he decided. “Your curiosity is good for something.”
You frowned, but didn’t dare complain to the King of Curses.
“Well?” He asked after a moment, and you sat there dumbfounded and unsure what he wanted you to do.
“What now?”
“Are you just going to sit there like you want a turn, or are you going to clean yourself up?”
“Sorry.” You pulled your hands away like he burned you, face heating up in embarrassment. You looked around the room for something to clean your hands with.
“Use those,” he added, pointing to the linens you originally brought in.
“I just brought these in, though. They take so long to wash.” You sighed, slipping off the bed to use one to wipe your hands with.
“You’ll have to go back to get some new ones, then,” he commented, two arms resting behind his head.
You frowned at the thought of walking all the way there and back again.
𓍼ོ true form!sukuna who lets you ride his stomach mouth.
you straddle sukuna’s broad torso, thighs already shaking as you hover over the jagged mouth splitting across his abdomen. his four eyes gleam with cruel hunger, watching every twitch of your body.
the stomach mouth opens slowly, hot breath fanning over your dripping folds before a thick, ridged tongue drags out, tasting you like he owns every inch.
“go on,” he growls, voice dripping with mockery. “ride it properly. show me how badly that greedy little cunt needs me.”
you sink down with a broken whimper as the tongue pushes inside you, thick and relentless, stretching you open while the mouth’s lips seal tight around your clit. the suction is immediate and vicious, pulling at the sensitive bundle of nerves as the tongue curls deep, fucking into you with wet, obscene sounds. your hands brace on his chest, hips rolling desperately as pleasure slams through you.
it does not take long before your walls clenching hard around the invading muscle.
sukuna laughs, low and dark, the vibration making the tongue thrash even harder inside you. when you try to lift up cause it’s becoming too much, oversensitive and twitching, his massive hand snaps around your wrist like a vice.
sukuna yanks you back down forcefully, slamming your hips flush against his stomach so the mouth devours you completely again.
“where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he snarls, eyes narrowing. “you started this. now you finish it. keep riding.”
the tongue does not give you any mercy.
it pounds into you faster, twisting and dragging against every spot that makes your vision blur. the lips suck harder on your clit, relentless and wet, forcing another orgasm out of you before the first one even fades.
your thighs burn, body jerking wildly as you sob through the overstimulation, but sukuna’s grip on your wrist is iron. every time you try to pull away or rise even an inch, he drags you right back down, grinding you against the mouth.
“look at you,” he taunts, voice rough with satisfaction. “crying and shaking like a pathetic little toy. my stomach is soaked and you still can’t stop grinding on it.”
this is when a brutal wave hits you, your whole body convulsing as you cum, tears streaming down your face.
the overstimulation turns sharp and electric, every lick and thrust bordering on pain but so good you cannot stop moaning. sukuna’s free hand comes up to grip your hip, helping you move, forcing the rhythm faster and deeper.
you lose count of how many times you tired to get yourself off of him. your voice grows hoarse, legs trembling uncontrollably, slick pulling and sliding down onto his stomach as the mouth laps it all up greedily.
“kuna…” when you go limp, too exhausted to keep moving, sukuna simply uses his strength to bounce you on the tongue himself, wrist still locked in his hold so you cannot escape.
“that’s right. keep cumming for me,” he commands, another dark laugh rumbling through him. “this mouth is not done with you yet. you’ve pissed me off today, no stopping until you’re a sobbing, broken mess who forgets every thought except how full you feel.”
he keeps you there for what feels like hours, the tongue never slowing, the suction never easing, until your mind blanks out completely and all you can do is tremble and take it, trapped on top of him by his unyielding grip.
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A Protocore throws you and Xavier two years into the future. You end up on his balcony. Your future selves end up against the glass door 😏.
CW: Smut. Jealousy. P in V 🔞MDNI🔞
Huge thanks to @stardustsirens for helping me with this series! 🧡🧡🧡
Caleb's part here
"Please tell me that's the last one"
The air reeked of burned grass and dead wanderers. You let out a long breath and let your shoulders drop as the last Wanderer dissolved into light that flickered once and went dark.
A few paces away, Xavier had a few hair strands stuck to his forehead and a thin sheen of sweat at his throat, and that was the extent of the damage. Meanwhile you looked like you'd been dragged behind a truck.
"Perimeter's clear," he said, quiet, like nothing in the world could rattle him. He crossed the debris toward you, boots crunching over glass and rubble. "You're bleeding, though."
You looked down. A chunk of crystal debris had opened a gash along your calf and you hadn't even noticed.
"Huh. Didn't feel that happen."
"Let me look at it." He dropped to one knee, taking a bandage roll out of your hands before you'd even fully pulled it from your pouch.
His hands were warm. Warmer than it made sense, given the cold. When he folded the torn fabric of your pants back to get at the wound, his fingers grazed bare skin and something jumped straight up your spine. You bit down on the inside of your cheek so you wouldn't make a sound about it.
This was the problem with Xavier. Some days he fell asleep against your shoulder like it was the safest place in the world. Other days he kept a careful distance between you and answered everything in a polite, unreadable tone, and you were left wondering if you'd imagined the whole thing.
"Does that hurt?" his thumb pressed against the unbroken skin just above it — the touch was not necessary to wrap the bandage.
"A little," you said, watching the top of his head, how the moonlight caught the color of his hair. "Xavier. Can I ask you something?"
His hands didn't stop moving, but his shoulders went still. "Yeah."
"Why do you do this?" You asked flatly, too tired to dress it up. "Sometimes I think we’re... I don't know, really close. And then other times, you look at me like I'm just another Hunter from the Association. It's confusing."
He finished tying off the gauze, stood up and finally looked at you "I just think about things. More than I probably should."
He reached out to help you up, hands closing firm around your forearms.
"Think about what?"
You went to test your weight on the bandaged leg and the ground chose that second to be uneven. You pitched forward, right into him, your chest hitting his. His hands slid from your arms to your waist to catch you.
Neither of you moved.
You could feel his heart going fast under his uniform, which didn't match the calm on his face at all. His eyes dropped to your mouth, came back up.This is happening, you thought, a little dizzy with it. He's actually going to—.
His grip on your waist tightened. Something cracked open behind his eyes, just for a second "You shouldn't stand this close to me"
"Xavier—"
He stepped back before you could get anything else out.
Crunch. Something snapped under his boot.
A white protocore.
He picked it and it suddenly went off with light, a white light expanding outward faster than you could track. The air got sucked straight out of your lungs. Your ears popped hard enough to hurt, and then the ruins, the sky, and everything else was sucked into a roar of wind that yanked you forward like the world had grabbed you by the throat.
You hit something solid and warm.
"Oof — sorry —"
A grunt came from underneath you. You blinked against sudden dark, hands slapping down flat against Xavier's chest. You were sprawled on top of him, legs tangled, face mashed against his neck.
"Oh my god." You scrambled back so fast you scraped your palms on the floor. "Sorry — are you okay?"
Xavier sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, hair falling into his eyes. "Fine. Are you hurt?"
"No, I— " You stopped. Looked around. "Wait."
You weren't standing in the ruins anymore. You were standing on a balcony with black wrought iron railing and a view of city streets that looked oddly familiar.
"Is this our building?" You turned in a slow circle, "Xavier, did you just teleport us home?"
"I didn't teleport us anywhere."
"You definitely did something..."
"I didn't" He was already moving past you toward the railing, scanning it like it might answer a question you hadn't asked yet.
"Okay, well, something got us here," you said, following him. "So if it wasn't you, what was it?"
He didn't answer right away. He crouched by one of the plants, fingers brushing the soil. Damp. Recently turned. "I don't have an explanation for this."
"When did you get so many plants?."
He moved to a small table near, where two mugs sat, both used, one rimmed faintly with lipstick.
"This is kind of freaking me out."
You spotted a newspaper folded beside the mugs and reached for it before he could stop you.
The date on the header didn't make sense. You read it twice.
"Xavier." You held it out to him, throat tight.
He took it, scanning it fast, and for the first time all night something like real alarm broke through his usual calm. "This is two years out."
"Two years." You said it slow, testing the weight of it. "Okay. We're just —somewhere else. Somewhere with your exact view, which is a really specific coincidence, but fine, sure, this is wrong, so so wrong—"
"Calm down."
"Xavier."
"What."
You pointed, wordless, toward the far corner of the balcony, where a lumpy, badly painted bird feeder hung crooked from its hook, one wing chipped clean off. You'd have known it anywhere.
"That's Fatso"s" you said.
Xavier followed your finger, and whatever he'd been telling himself died on his face.
You grabbed for your communicator on reflex. Dead screen. "No signal," you said, more to yourself than to him.
"Mine's the same. Clock's not even holding steady." He pocketed the device "We need to see what's inside. If someone's living here, we ask them what year it is."
"Oh yeah because that is a completely normal question to walk in and ask a stranger."
"Stay behind me," he reached for the handle on the sliding glass door, testing the weight of it without committing to opening it yet. Behind the curtain, something moved.
You froze. Your fingers found the sleeve of his uniform and held on.
A hand pressed flat against the glass from the other side of the curtain, fingers spread.
Xavier looked ready to run.
A second hand appeared beside it. Bigger. Scarred across the knuckles. Something in your chest went cold with recognition even before your brain caught up. The second hand moved to close over the first, fingers lacing through.
There were two people on the other side of that door. And from the way the curtain was moving, they were not just standing there.
"Xavier," you whispered, barely any air behind it at all.
He didn't answer. He didn't move his hand off the door either —just stood there frozen, staring at those hands through the glass like his whole nervous system had collapsed.
Then he moved. His hand closed around your shoulder and pulled, one smooth backward motion that tucked you both into a narrow space where the balcony wall met the building's outer brick. The spot was tight —barely enough room for two people to stand without touching —and the angle it gave you was merciless. The glass door sat directly in your line of sight, lit from inside.
You should have looked away immediately.
But you didn't.
The curtains moved a bit. Two bodies, pressed close. The woman's face was hidden, her head tipped back behind the line of the man's shoulder. His face was visible. Hair catching the light. That jaw.
Xavier
The anger came fast and hot and settled behind your sternum like coal. Months of warmth and then distance. Months of patience that felt like it was always just about to become something and never did —and here was the answer to all of it, pressed against a glass door in an apartment that was still his, two years from now, with someone else.
He was kissing her the way someone kisses when they've stopped being careful about it. Deep, his hands dragging her back against him, the movements of his lower body slow and unmistakable.
You looked away. Focused on a crack running through the middle of the wall beside you. Breathed through your nose.
Beside you, Xavier was still looking. His face was flushed.
"Is that—" His voice came out wrong.
"Yup," you said. The bitterness in it sharper than you'd intended. "That's you"
A sound came through the glass.
The impact of skin against the glass door followed immediately by a broken moan, the sound dragged your eyes back to the glass door against your will.
The curtain had been pulled aside all the way.
The view was now unobstructed.
The woman was pressed flat against the glass, her bare breasts against the cold pane, her hands finding the frame for something to hold onto. Her face was fully visible now.
The anger in your chest went out like a light.
It was your face.
Your shoulders, your hands, the sound of your own voice coming through the glass in pieces, breathless and nothing like anything you'd heard from yourself before. Your future self's cheek was pressed to the glass too, eyes half closed, lips parted around sounds that weren't words.
Future Xavier's teeth found her shoulder and bit down, not gently, leaving something that would be visible tomorrow. His hand came around the front of her, sliding between her thighs to line his beautiful cock against her entrance.
Then he drove forward.
The sound she made came through the glass loud and clear and a small involuntary noise started building in your own throat.
Xavier's palm came over your mouth.
Fast. Firm. His fingers sealing the sound in before it could escape. His hand was shaking.
The glass door shook with the next impact. And the next.
Xavier had his mouth at her ear saying something you couldn't hear through the glass but could read in the way her expression changed when he said it.
Xavier made half a sound against the back of your head and he immediately swallowed the other half.
You felt it anyway. Felt the way his arm tightened across your chest, felt the unsteady rhythm of his breathing where his chest pressed into your back.
You couldn't look away from his face —the future version of the face that was currently breathing against your temple— wearing an expression you'd never seen on him before.
"Xavier," you said, against his palm. Muffled.
His arm tightened.
"Xavier." Louder this time, enough that he could feel the shape of his name against his hand.
His mouth dropped to your ear "Don't move." The words came out rough "If they see us—"
Inside the apartment, your future self pressed her palm hard against her lips.
Future Xavier's hand closed around her wrist.
He pulled it down. He held her hand at her side and kept it there, and when she turned her face toward him he was already looking at her.
He wanted to hear her.
Below you a glass door scraped open.
One floor down, a man stepped out onto his balcony. Cigarette unlit between his fingers, head tilted slightly, listening to the night.
You pressed further into the shadow.
The rhythm inside the apartment changed. Not slower. The opposite. The glass shook in its frame and the sounds coming through it stopped being something that could be mistaken for anything else, and the man one floor down stopped trying to light his cigarette.
You looked at future Xavier's face.
His eyes were angled down and to the left.
He picked up the pace.
She tried again, her hand came up toward her mouth. Future Xavier caught her wrist without looking and his mouth moved against her ear again.
Whatever it was, she stopped trying to be quiet.
You thought about what you'd just watched him do. The escalation. The man on the balcony below. The reason your future self's hand kept getting pulled back down.
Was he jealous of that stranger?
Inside, her feet left the ground. Xavier had both arms around her, her arms caught under his, breast bouncing with every thrust.
You saw it first.
An unmistakable pressure beneath the surface of her stomach. Moving with every thrust. A belly bulge.
Your mouth went dry.
She was dripping. You could see it even through the glass —the inside of her thighs slick and glistening where his movements had worked everything down, coating her skin, catching the apartment light every time he pulled back. The glass had a faint fog to it from her breath, small clouds appearing and disappearing with each exhale.
The deep flush running from her chest to her throat made something in your lower stomach pull tight.
The Xavier beside you tracked every place her body responded to him, her hardened nipples, the way her toes curled against nothing, the flutter beneath her skin that mapped exactly where he was.
Crash
A flower pot.
It hit the floor and you both stopped breathing.
Inside the apartment, silence.
Immediate and total.
Through the glass you watched future Xavier's head come up. No panic in it. No confusion. Just a slow turn toward the sound, his eyes moving through the dark until they found the spot where the two of you were standing.
He couldn't see you. The angle was wrong, the shadow too deep.
He knew someone was there anyway.
His expression went cold and your future self said something against his chest. The curtain moved slowly across the glass from inside and the light behind it went out.
You had thirty seconds. Maybe less.
Xavier crouched beside you. The Protocore looked small against his palm, throwing a faint white pulse between his fingers for just a second.
The glass door began to slide open.
The air changed, the balcony, the broken pot, the man with his unlit cigarette, all of it collapsing into white noise and rushing dark.
You hit the ground hard. Your knees met broken stone, the air was knocked out of you on impact and you spent the first few seconds just existing on the ground.
Xavier landed beside you.
You pushed yourself up to sitting. "So..."
Xavier said nothing.
"That was weird."
Still nothing.
"We were—"
"I saw it" he opened his hand and noticed the Protocore was gone "I was standing right next to you."
"So we're both aware of what we watched."
"Yes."
"And we're not going to talk about it?"
He looked at you. "Are you going to be able to not talk about it?"
"Probably not."
He made a sound that wasn't quite a sigh, stood up and offered you a hand. You took it and he pulled you to your feet and didn't immediately let go.
"That man on the balcony," you said.
Xavier's jaw moved. "What about him."
"Future you saw him and then—"
"I know what he did." He dropped your hand. Turned to look at anything that wasn't your face. "You don't need to walk me through it."
"I'm just—" You pressed your lips together, trying very hard not to smile, it felt inappropriate and also completely unavoidable "Was he showing off?"
"We're not talking about that."
"Xavier—"
"Not yet." He said it quietly. Just a line in the ground, clearly drawn. "Not tonight. There's—" He exhaled. "There's a lot I need to sit with before I talk about any of it."
You nodded. That felt fair.
You started walking, picking your way back through the rubble toward the gap in the wall where you'd come in, and Xavier fell into step beside you like he always did —slightly behind, slightly to your left, a position that meant he could see everything around you before you could.
The walk back was quiet. You were almost at the gap in the wall when he spoke.
"Can I ask you something."
"Go ahead."
He was quiet for a beat. Just long enough that you glanced over at him.
"Future me?" he said. "Or me?"
You stopped walking. "What?"
"You heard me. Who do you like more?
"Xavier, that's not—you are the same person—"
"Future me is two years ahead and has information I don't have and he was doing—" a small pause, "—things to you that I have not yet done. So. Future me or me?"
You stared at him.
He stared back.
"That is the most ridiculous question you've ever asked me"
"Humor me."
"You"
Something in his face changed.
"Good," he said.
"But future you did have his—"
The not quite smile disappeared. "We're going home," he said, and turned toward the gap in the wall.
You followed him, and you were very glad he was walking ahead of you this time because the smile on your face was not something you were ready to explain.
cw masturbating on call 🍋🟩 disclaimer this is a tweaked repost from my old account :-)
Bzzt, bzzt. Bzzt, bzzt.
"Hello?" You groggily turn to lay on your back as you press the phone to your ear, staring up at the ceiling and blinking until the fuzziness in your vision disappears. "Zayne?"
His voice sends a pleasant wave of warmth through your bones. "Yes, it's me. Did I wake you, darling?"
A door clicks shut on his end. He must've just gotten home. You squint at the time, noting it's a little past three in the morning.
"No," you lie, grinning lazily when Zayne only scoffs.
The steady, sure stream of a faucet running lets you know he's in the bathroom beginning to wind down for the night. You hum in response to his stories from the day's work, details about upcoming surgeries and how his patients have been. To anyone else, he may as well be reading a shopping list for groceries, but you pick up on his strained tone and the heavy sighs he lets out between anecdotes.
You wait until you're certain he's settled in bed before you make your move. "You've been stressed the entire week. I wish there was something I could do to help."
"You're doing everything just right, sweetheart," comes his sweet, soft mumble. "Calling you… I've missed your voice, incredibly so. I couldn't wait to get home."
There's a small smirk playing on your face, knowing exactly what path this conversation is about to go down.
"Careful, doctor," you singsong. "With that tone of yours, it almost sounds like you've been excited about this all day."
He picks up on what you're insinuating immediately, tone shifting to something more husky when he replies. It makes your stomach do a somersault.
"Oh? You wouldn't exactly be wrong to say such a thing, darling. It seems not just me, but my body in its entirety, has been aching for you."
Your thighs instinctively clench when his voice drops an octave. You can imagine the moments before he called so perfectly—Zayne, stumbling out of his car, painfully hard and phone in hand, eager to call you the second he steps through the threshold of his home. Zayne, biting his lip to stop the groans spilling out while he washes his hands and face, listening intently to the sound of your labored breathing over the phone line. Zayne, slipping into nothing but gray sweatpants that darken immediately from his pre, who still insists on trying to talk to you somewhat normally despite his weeping cock.
And Zayne, who falls apart the moment you breath a whiny, "Me too, pretty boy. Missed you so much."
It doesn't take long for his moans to be all that fills your brain, your loud cries spurring on his filthy mouth as he thrusts up into his fist like his life depends on it.
"Darling, o-ohh... darling. This—this was your plan all along, wasn't it? Nghh... you vixen..."
A third finger squeezes its way into your pussy, and you out a whimper. "J—just, hic, just missed you soo much, need your fingers, need your—mmpff!—big cock!"
The stretch is delicious, and Zayne's throaty groan at your words is doing nothing to stop the tightening coil low in your gut, hot and taut and ready to burst. Your thumb flicks at your clit and you arch your back, swearing that you can see white spots at the edge of your vision—
"W-wait, da—oohhh—darling," he pants. "Stop. Stop touching yourself."
You whine incessantly but pull your fingers away, crying softly into your phone's mic. "Noooo… m'soooooooo close… Zayne, not fair…"
So far gone, you fail to register the scuffling of clothes before a door is slammed shut—loudly, hurriedly. Keys jingle, and your lashes flutter as you try to make out what your boyfriend is doing and why it's not talking you through an orgasm.
"Give me ten minutes, sweetheart." Zayne's voice is raw from moaning, a fact that has slick drooling out of your empty cunt. "I'm not able to wait until tomorrow, so tonight it is."
"B-but—"
"No touching," he commands. "Not until I get there and you can cream around my cock like you were made to do."
You and Caleb are accidentally hurled two years into the future, straight into his apartment. Trapped in a closet, you’re forced to watch your future selves fuck like they’ve been starving for each other.
The art that inspired this fic: https://x.com/i/status/2077008975359525093
The heat at Grandma's house during peak summer was its own particular brand of suffering. It wasn't the same as the sharp dry heat of the city, this was heavy and wet and it made the air taste like cut grass and warm concrete. By ten in the morning you'd already sweated through your first shirt. By noon you'd given up on doing anything productive.
Which was how you and Caleb ended up in the kitchen at two in the afternoon, arguing about stupid stuff, because there was nothing else to do.
"We're out of green onions," he announced with his head inside the fridge. "And ginger. Grandma said we have to buy soy sauce and it has to be the right brand."
"Which brand?"
He turned around with an expression that said he had absolutely no idea.
"Great," you said. "Really helpful."
"She showed me once. It has a red label. Or maybe yellow." He pulled out a tote bag from the cabinet and dropped it on the counter in your direction. "We'll figure it out when we're there."
"The market is a fifteen minute walk in this heat."
"Then we should leave now."
"Caleb—"
He was already heading for the door. "Come on."
You grabbed the bag and your sunglasses and followed him out into the heat, which hit you like a wall the second you stepped off the porch.
The neighborhood was quiet on summer afternoons, everyone wanted to be inside with their fans on. You walked beside Caleb through streets you'd both known since childhood, past the park, past the corner ice cream store with the faded awning, past Mrs. Yuen's house with the wind chimes that had been making the same sound for fifteen years.
He was telling you about an incident with a new recruit that had happened at a training exercise last month and you were laughing.
"Did he get hurt?" you managed.
"Bruised his ego more than anything." Caleb pushed your sunglasses up. "Poor guy spent the rest of the session pretending it hadn't happened."
The market was cool and smelled like the same brand of air freshener they'd been using since you were ten. You grabbed a basket and split off toward the vegetables while Caleb wandered in the direction of the snack aisle, which —you'd learned over years of shared grocery runs— meant you were going to spend the next several minutes complaining about his choices.
You found the green onions. Found the ginger. Turned the corner into the snack aisle and found Caleb standing in front of the chips with two bags in his hands, deliberating.
"We don't need chips," you said.
"Yes we do."
"We have food at home."
"Chips are not food, chips are a separate category." He held them both up. "Salt and vinegar or barbecue."
"Neither. We're here for dinner ingredients."
"And chips." He put the barbecue in the basket.
You took it out. He put it back in.
"Caleb."
"It's for the walk home. You'll want some on the walk home."
"You are so—" You stopped, pointed at his chest. "Fine. One bag. And you're carrying it."
He was already reaching for a second one.
"One bag."
"Salt and vinegar for you, barbecue for me. That's technically one bag each which is—"
"That's two bags."
"One per person."
You let him keep both bags because the alternative was standing in the snack aisle for another five minutes.
The soy sauce took longer. You found the section, found approximately ten different brands, and stood there for a moment in silence.
"Red label or yellow?" you said.
"I said I wasn't sure."
"You said you'd seen it."
"I'd seen it, I didn't memorize it."
"Caleb, if we get the wrong one—"
He picked one up, turned it over, put it back. Picked up another. "This one looks right."
He put it in the basket and you picked up a different one, compared the labels side by side, and put his back and kept yours.
He switched them back the moment you turned away.
------
You were outside, bag on Caleb's shoulder, chips already open when your hunter's watch went off.
The sound cut straight through everything. Your hand was in the chip bag one second and at your holster the next, the muscle memory of it faster than conscious thought. The screen had gone red.
Wanderer detected. Class: High energy anomaly. Proximity: 100 meters.
Caleb stepped in close "Behind the market. Let's go."
You were already moving.
---
The alley ran behind a row of shops, narrow and shadowed, the air warping at the far end and that meant the Wanderer had already been there long enough to disturb local reality. You pulled your gun and kept your back to the wall, moving fast. Caleb came in on the other side, gravity already building at his hands, the air around his knuckles bending in a way that meant he was ready.
The Wanderer was enormous, the geometry of it not quite making sense no matter which angle you looked from. It moved fast for something that size, swinging a limb in your direction before you'd fully cleared the corner.
You fired twice. The shots connected and it shrieked, momentum redirected enough that the hit meant for you shattered a section of wall instead.
"Flank!" Caleb called.
You were already going wide. He pulled gravity in from the left, compressing the Wanderer's movement, slowing it just enough for you to get behind it and put three more shots into the joint where two of its limbs connected. It screamed and lurched sideways.
"Keep it off the street," you yelled over the noise.
"Working on it." He dragged it backward with a gravity pull that made the pavement crack under the force of it, steering it further into the alley.
It was not a clean fight. It kept redirecting, slamming into the walls, filling the alley with debris that you had to dodge while maintaining your sight lines.
Eventually the thing started to slow. Eventually it disappeared.
Then you saw it.
On the ground where the Wanderer had dissolved — a Protocore, small, throwing off an iridescent white that you'd never seen from a Wanderer before.
"That's not standard," Caleb said, coming to stand beside you. He crouched down to look at it without touching it. "I've never seen one this color."
"Me neither." You holstered your gun. "I should take it to HQ."
"Agreed." You crouched beside him, reaching for the core at the same time he did, and your hands closed around it simultaneously.
White light erupted.
It collapsed inward, pulling everything —sound, light, air, the alley— into a point of white noise and wind, and then nothing, a few seconds later there was a floor coming up very fast.
You hit the carpet with a thud that knocked the breath out of you.
Caleb landed beside you, one arm slamming down to catch his weight before he pushed himself up.
"Are you hurt," he said, breathing hard.
You did a fast inventory. "No. You?"
"No." He looked up. Looked around.
You were inside a huge apartment. Carpeted floor and warm light from the windows. A long couch. A coffee table with papers on it. A mug. A jacket draped over the back of a chair.
Someone's apartment.
You stood up slowly. Caleb was already at the bookshelf, and you followed, and then you saw the first photo and everything in your chest felt strange.
It was you. You and Caleb, standing somewhere sunny, laughing at something out of frame. You were wearing a jacket you didn't own. His hair was slightly different, grown out and pushed back.
There were more. The two of you at a restaurant, faces close across a small table. A shot of you asleep on a couch, and Caleb sitting at the other end with a book, but whoever had taken the photo had caught him looking at you and not at the page.
Your throat felt tight.
"This is my apartment," Caleb said quietly, from somewhere to your left.
You turned to look at him. He was looking at the leather jacket on the chair. His leather jacket, the one currently in his wardrobe back at the base. A pilot's manual on the shelf, the same one he'd been working through. A mug from the Farspace Fleet. A framed photo of your grandmother that matched the one at home.
"The photos—" you started.
"I know."
He crossed to the coffee table, picked up the newspaper and scanned the top page. He held it out.
The date at the top was two years from now. Exactly two years.
---
You spent the rest of the afternoon going through the apartment with careful attention, very aware you were somewhere you weren't supposed to be. You were trying to understand what the last two years had produced.
Caleb's future self left notes everywhere. Fridge, desk, bathroom mirror. His handwriting but with a different quality to it, more settled. There were more photos than you'd first noticed — tucked into the edges of the mirror in the hallway, stuck to the inside of a cabinet. A birthday card in your handwriting on the desk, standing open. A second toothbrush in the bathroom.
You both looked at that for a moment.
"I'm not going to say anything about any of this," you said finally, standing in the kitchen with your arms crossed.
"Good call," Caleb said, from the doorway.
"I'm —this is a lot of information."
"It is."
"And I'm not drawing any conclusions."
He went quiet.
The sun went down. The apartment went from warm gold to dark while you sat on the floor of the living room eating crackers you'd found in the cabinet, your backs against the couch, the Protocore sitting on the coffee table throwing faint white light across the ceiling.
"We'll figure out how to get back," Caleb said.
"I know."
"Same energy that brought us here should be able to—"
"Caleb, I know. I'm not panicking."
He looked at you sideways. "You're quieter than your normal quiet."
"I'm just thinking."
He nodded slowly. Ate a cracker. Didn't push it, he knew when to let something sit. Almost two decades of knowing each other and he'd learned exactly where the lines were.
You were about to say something else when you heard it.
Voices outside.
Both of you were on your feet before the door handle moved. Caleb stepped toward the entryway on pure instinct and you grabbed his arm with both hands and pulled.
"Don't," you said, low and fast.
"I just want to see—"
"You cannot make contact with yourself. Do you understand what that does to the timeline? Do you understand what happens if you alter something?"
"I wasn't going to —"
"Caleb." You got in front of him, hands on his chest, looking up at him with full seriousness. "We hide. Right now. We have to wait."
He looked at the door. The handle was starting to move.
"Fine," he said before he grabbed the protocore and then your wrist to pull you toward the hallway closet in two long strides, opening it fast and pulling you in after him, easing the door shut.
The closet was full. Coats, bags, a stack of boxes on the floor that immediately became a problem because you had nowhere to step back, which meant you were now pressed against Caleb from your shoulders to your knees.
You could feel every breath he took.
"This is very small," you whispered.
"I know," he said, directly behind your ear.
His arms were on either side of you because there was nowhere else for them. His chin was above your head. You could feel him making adjustments to keep whatever minimal distance physics was willing to offer, and it was working as well as you'd expect. Which was not well.
You were two childhood friends in a closet in an apartment that was apparently his, two years in the future, surrounded by photographic evidence of something neither of you had said out loud yet, and he was doing his very best not to press against you and his very best was losing badly to the laws of spatial reasoning.
The front door opened.
Through the slats of the closet door, the living room light clicked on.
"I told you." Your own voice, but looser, threaded through with laughter that had a very specific quality to it. "I told you we shouldn't have had that last drink."
"Yeah," came the reply. Caleb's voice, except it was rougher and stripped of the easy warmth you knew and replaced with something that made the back of your neck prickle. "You were flirting with the bartender just to watch me lose it."
"Maybe I was." Future you sounded unrepentant about this.
Through the slats you watched two people stumble into the living room and your brain took several seconds to process what your eyes were seeing. She was in a dress, form fitting, gorgeous, currently half unzipped down the back. Future Caleb had shed his jacket somewhere between the door and the living room, his shirt untucked with half the buttons open, chest visible, hair slightly wrecked.
Behind you, Caleb had gone completely rigid. You felt it happen, every muscle in his body locking up at once.
Then future Caleb grabbed future you by the waist and walked her backward into the living room wall.
The impact was loud. What followed was louder, the sound of them kissing, which was not the word for what was happening, kissing implied something with more restraint than this. Future Caleb had his hands in her hair and on her waist and sliding down to bunch the fabric of her dress up her thighs, all at the same time.
You made a sound you hadn't planned on making.
Caleb's hand came over your mouth so fast you didn't even see it coming, his palm pressing firm and warm against your lips, his forearm across your collarbone. His chest was heaving against your back and something else was pressing against the small of your back that you were both absolutely not acknowledging.
You made a muffled sound against his hand anyway.
His arm tightened.
Future Caleb pulled back just far enough to speak "You want to play games tonight?" A pause, heavy with intent. "Let's find out how loud I can make you scream."
He pushed his hand up her skirt.
You'd never made that sound in your life. Or apparently you would. In two years. Against that wall.
"Caleb—wait, wait—the couch—"
That was it. That was enough. Your hand shot out in the dark and found the closet door handle and you grabbed it.
Caleb's hand came off your mouth and closed around your wrist, pulling it back against you, his mouth dropping to your ear.
"Don't you dare," he breathed.
"We have to stop watching this—" you hissed.
"If you open that door they'll see us—"
"Then they see us—"
"And alter the timeline," he said. "Your words. Two minutes ago."
He was right and it was the worst possible moment for him to be right.
"Just—" His voice came out strained "Just don't move."
"Caleb—"
"I'm a guy, and you are literally grinding into me," he snapped softly, though there was no real anger in it. His forehead dropped briefly to the back of your head. "Just..." sigh "give me a second."
Outside the closet Caleb lifted her clean off the floor. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her the few steps to the couch and dropped her onto it.
His hands yanked the straps of her dress down, baring her breasts. He pinched a nipple, and she arched with a sharp cry. "You are so fucking wet already. Been thinking about my cock all day? Want me to stretch that pretty pussy out right here?"
"Yes—fuck, Caleb, touch me," she gasped, hips grinding up.
Your breath hitched. Heat flooded between your legs, sudden and embarrassing. Caleb's cock twitched against your ass and you had to bite your lip to stay quiet.
Future Caleb reached down and shoved his pants off. You couldn't look away. He was big, thick, flushed, veins standing out. Ready.
Panic hit you. "Don't look," you whispered frantically. "That's... me. Turn around or do something—"
"Like hell," he said against your ear, teeth grazing the shell. "You're the one staring. You like seeing him like that? Seeing what I— what he wants to do to you?"
"Caleb, shut up," you whimpered, thighs pressing together.
He didn't fuck her right away. He grabbed her ankles, yanked her to the edge of the couch, and spread her wide. Dropped to his knees.
"Caleb—" she started, but it dissolved into a broken moan as he buried his face between her legs.
The sound of his tongue working her was loud and messy, completely shameless. Her head dropped back against the cushions, fingers twisted tight into the fabric, her whole body shaking every time he dragged his tongue over her clit in greedy strokes. He licked broad stripes up her slit before focusing on her clit again, sucking it into his mouth with a low groan.
"Fuck, you taste so good,”Caleb growled against her pussy, voice muffled but clear enough to carry.
"Just like that baby” she moaned, one hand fisting his hair, the other still twisting in the couch cushion.
He pinched her nipple hard with his free hand, rolling it between his fingers as he sucked harder. Her thighs trembled around his head.
Behind you, Caleb let out a broken groan that made your knees go soft. His arm snapped around your waist, holding you steady, fingers digging into your hip the exact same way his future self was gripping her out there.
“Fuck,” you whispered, head falling back against his shoulder before you could stop yourself. Your pussy was throbbing, aching so bad it almost hurt.
“Listen to that. Listen to how wet you get for me.” Caleb shifted his hips, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against your ass through your jeans, dragging the seam right over your soaked cunt.
On the couch, she was losing it. "I need you inside me. I can’t wait anymore.”
Future Caleb pulled back, mouth shiny, breathing hard. He stroked himself once, twice, then lined up and drove into her in one rough thrust. Her legs wrapped around him as he started fucking her deep and hard, the couch creaking like it might give out any second. His back and ass flexed with every thrust, hips snapping forward. “Gonna come on my cock like a good girl?”
He leaned over her, one hand pinning her thigh higher as he fucked her. “Gonna fill you up. Want you leaking my cum the rest of the night. You love being my dirty little slut, don’t you? Say it.”
“Oh my god,” you choked, voice barely there. Watching yourself get railed like that—by him—was too much. The guy whose arms were currently locked around your waist, the same guy you’d known since you were kids, was pounding into a future version of you like he owned her.
She gasped between moans, nails now digging into his back. “Yes—your slut, Caleb—harder—”
“That’s my girl.” His hips snapped faster “Come on my cock like you did last night."
In the closet, Caleb’s forehead dropped to your shoulder, his cock twitched hard against your ass, hips making tiny, helpless thrusts.
You couldn’t tear your eyes away, every filthy word making the ache between your legs worse.
“Jesus,” Caleb whispered raggedly “We really talk like that?”
You twisted hard, trying to turn around in the cramped space so you wouldn’t have to see it anymore.
“Stop moving,” Caleb gasped, his control fraying fast as your ass rubbed right over the head of his cock.
“I can’t watch this—let me turn—”
Your foot caught on a heavy boot buried in the mess at the bottom of the closet. Balance gone.
“Whoa—” Caleb grabbed for you, but it was too late. Your combined weight slammed into the door.
The cheap magnetic latch popped open with a sad little click.
The squeaking of the couch cut off like someone had yanked the plug on the whole universe.
The silence that followed rang in your ears. You pushed up on your elbows, face so hot you were surprised you hadn’t spontaneously combusted. Caleb was beside you, shirt rucked up, the very obvious, very hard line of his erection pressing against your thigh.
You both slowly turned your heads toward the couch.
A few meters away, future Caleb was frozen mid thrust, hands locked on future you’s hips, his body still buried deep inside her. She had one leg hooked high around his waist, hair a wild mess, chest heaving. Both of them stared at you with identical expressions of what the actual fuck.
They were a sweaty, flushed disaster, very naked and very, very mid fuck.
“What the…” future Caleb started.
Future you blinked slowly. “Is that… us?”
You opened your mouth, brain offering the most useless sentence in history. “We were just looking for soy sauce—”
The white light from the Protocore exploded again. The apartment, the couch, your naked and extremely confused future selves—all of it ripped away in a roar of rushing air.
Thud.
You hit the dirty alley hard enough to knock the wind out of you again.
Caleb groaned beside you, flat on his back, one arm flung over his eyes. His chest rose and fell in sharp pulls. You could still feel the ghost of his hardness against you, the way his fingers had dug into your hip in the closet. Your own body was still buzzing, thighs slick, pulse pounding between your legs like a second heartbeat.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
Then Caleb let out a shaky laugh that sounded half hysterical. “Soy sauce. Really?”
You rolled onto your side, wincing at the scrapes on your elbows. “It was the first thing that came to mind, okay? We just watched ourselves— I mean, they— we were—” You gestured vaguely, face burning all over again. “You know.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”
He sat up slowly and ran a hand through his hair. The front of his shorts was still a bit tented. He didn’t bother trying to hide it. You weren’t exactly in a position to judge, your nipples were tight against your shirt, and you were pretty sure your face was the color of a ripe tomato.
The protocore gave one last weak shimmer and dissolved into harmless blue dust that scattered across the pavement.
Caleb looked at you. “So… two years from now, huh?”
You swallowed. “Apparently we, uh… figured some things out.”
He huffed another laugh, but it was softer this time. Almost wondering. He reached over and brushed a bit of alley dirt off your cheek with his thumb. The touch lingered.
“We should probably go”
You nodded, but neither of you stood up right away. The air between you felt thicker than the summer humidity, charged with everything you’d just seen and felt in that stupid closet.
Caleb’s gaze dropped to your mouth for a second, then flicked back up. “When we get back to the house…”
“Yeah?” you whispered.
He smiled, small and crooked and a little nervous, the same smile he’d given you a thousand times growing up, except this one felt different.
“I’m not waiting two years,” he said.
Your heart did something complicated in your chest.
You grabbed his hand, pulled him up with you, and the two of you started walking out of the alley like nothing had happened.
But everything had happened.
And as your fingers brushed again while you walked, neither of you pulled away.
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oml hubby!nanamin reminding you to breathe during smex!
sorry for such the long hiatus loves :((
“where do you feel me baby? tell me.” you nails dug into the back of the man currently fucking the shit out of you, to the point where you were incoherent. your thighs pressed against your sweat glazed torso, his hips harshly colliding with yours, hitting the deepest and most sensitive spots you have.
“mmm! n-hereeeee!” you weakly moved one of your hands to your womb. he smiles, kissing your lips and then making home on your sensitive neck. where his moans and groans went straight to your ear.
nanami makes LOVE. he never fucks.
he wants you to lose yourself in the pleasure he gives you, always to the point where you’re overstimulated and almost can’t take it.
one thing nanami always noticed was how you don’t breathe whenever you guys have sex. it’s not like when you ask him to slightly choke you, or when he shifts his weight on top of you when you guys are in prone bone. it’s whenever you guys are intimate in general, he has to stop and remind you every time :(
“baby, baby. breathhhe.” he halts his hips, holding your face so your gaze is only focusing on him. not even a second passed and you’re gasping in and out, tears cradling down your brown cheeks. “there you go baby, there you go..” he slowly picks up his thrusts again, causing you to whine and whimper. trying your best not to fall into the habit of holding your breath again.
“m’gunna cuhmmm n-nana!” — “that’s my good girl. y-yeaa.” the knot in your stomach about to burst. his tip constantly hitting that spot that makes you feel dizzy. “it’s t’much!”
you whined. pushing against nanami’s abdomen, attempting to halt his thrusts for a moment. but he didn’t let up. “uh, uh baby. let out for me, let it out for your nana.” grabbing your wrists, and pinning it above your head.
the knot in your stomach snaps. squirting all over your husbands and thighs, coating them with your essence. it wasn’t too long until nanami reached his high. quickly pulling out and finishing on your stomach.
“did so good for me baby,” he lifted his hand from your wrist, using it to caress the side of your face.
