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Synopsis. CASE 143.
Objective: To take care of the problem that is Agent 7:3 [CONFIDENTIAL—Name: Nanami Kento, Age: 27] once and for all. The most feared spy in all of Tokyo’s underbelly, with a conviction rate of 100%. And, this time, he’s probed into your higher-ups far too deeply—to take him out you must go undercover…as his wife.
The problem: You're Wanted, and Nanami Kento wants you. Badly.
Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!assassin!reader, spy!Nanami, Spy x Family AU, married couple, marriage of convenience, secret plots, espíonage, vioIence, you’re attempting to kiII him, he knows and likes it, they’re slightly unhinged, romcom vibes, Yuj cameo, Papamin, domestic, apothecaries, aphrodísiac, he’s GONE, he’s pússydrúnk, handcuffs, heels, pIot, oraI (fem rec.), spítting, chokíng, face-ríding, p worship, body worship, Nanami’s big nose, service Nanami, matíng presses, MlLKING him, he’s here to pIease, markíng, manhandIing, cervíx smooching, DÚMBlFICATION, passionate s, heavy overstím, slight marathon, ínappropríate uses of his tie, making it fit, talking you through it, he just wants to be your real HUSBAND, creampíes, cúmpIay, STUFFING YOU, proposals, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 16.9k (ermmmm)
A/N. CONGRATSSSS Nanami nation for winning The Bachelorette poll mwahaha I told you babygirls there’d be a surprise-
Yet another bead of sweat glides down Nanami’s temple; consequences of tugging and prying at the restraints around his wrists to no avail. Hard metal handcuffs. Coiled snakes of metal - he isn’t sure whether it’s the tightness or the temperature that bites into his skin the most.
Though something else was gnawing at him entirely.
He’s seated in the darkness upon a rickety wooden chair, his hands forcefully held behind him. Golden tresses stick to his forehead- and he’s looking up through them as you close in. Eyes narrowed. Something dark shifting behind them…
His voice rasps out, “You have me.”
And you smile.
Pressing the tip of your golden dagger to his throat, stepping the point of your heels between his legs- “Honey, I’ve always had you.”
And he knows he should be trembling at the thought of finally falling into the Garden’s clutches, at the exposure of his identity, at the breach of his secrets.
But he had another problem.
Nanami Kento has never been harder.
Soon enough, you’re rovering your heel ambly up and down the plane of his thighs, up and down, up and down—in nothing but a mere graze.
The tips of his ears scorch red as he feels his smart, smoothened trousers getting tighter n’ tighter by the second. Nanami fights not to let his gaze dart downwards, he fights—but the slightest sensation of your heel inching closer, and he cracks.
Soon enough, your stare follows.
And you’re letting out a curious hum as you take in the bulge he was embarrassingly sporting.
“Oh? What’s this?” He damn-near flinches at the tone of your voice - so mockingly innocent. Nanami knew better- he knew so much better. “My portfolio never said you were such a pervert, Agent 7:3.”
He spits out, “No-”
“Yes.”
And he’s always loved those jet-black, barrel-black, heels of yours- honestly!
They sat collecting dust in a corner of your half of the closet, and he always did think they contrasted perfectly with his pale-green suits.
Though, he did often wonder when you’d bring them out.
He just never could’ve expected this…
Nanami lets out a pained hiss- letting his head drop backwards ever-so-slightly as you’re stepping down even harder. “Hard?” Your smile widens, feeling him throb and twitch beneath your heel. “Getting even harder? How did we ever get here, hubby—?”
How did you two ever get here, indeed.
.
.
.
Nanami remembers the pre-mission briefing perfectly- he always was told he had a photographic memory. However, the details of this particular day stand out so crystal clear in his brain that it was almost too sharp; like a rusty nail, or the point of your heel.
It’d been a sunny Thursday, even though daylight never pierced the headquarters of JISE (Japanese Intelligence Services’ Eastern-focused division). Nanami - though he wasn’t Nanami Kento, here, he was Agent 7:3 - had done this same song and dance, song and dance, song and dance over a hundred times already. It was routine as he flipped through the thick file that’d been slid over to him.
Agent Corpse [CONFIDENTIAL—Yaga Masamichi] sat with his arms crossed and a grim expression upon him that he wore nearly as much as his sunglasses. He waited patiently as Nanami finished reading through the miniscule blocked typing and looked up at him.
“So…” He started, neatly closing the file. “The mission seems standard, I don’t see why I would have any trouble with it.”
Yaga sighed and pushed his shades up, “It’s not the intelligence-gathering I see you having trouble with, rather it’s the…social aspects.”
Nanami raised a blond brow, “Social?”
“This mission-” Yaga sternly tapped the top of the file, “This isn’t one of your lone wolf operations, 7:3. To get close to the head of the Zenin family, you need to take on more roles than one. A family man. A father. A husband.”
The blond man steeped in his silence as his higher-up continued.
“You need to really live in this role, Kento—” He was startled - Yaga almost never called him that. Through his dark sunglasses, the older man’s eyes twinkled. “You need to believe it.”
“I…”
Without waiting for the rest of his sentence, he flicked open the file to a comprehensive list of potential orphanages and single women around his age in Tokyo: the building blocks to his faux-family. “Two people here will be counting on you to believe in your role.” Yaga spoke low, “And whatever that means for them after this mission is over…” This was always the hardest part. “From now onwards, consider yourself a husband and father before a spy. First and foremost.”
Nanami had never carried out a mission that involved other people.
And there was silence that stretched taut and nearly snapped- before Nanami answered in the only way he knew he could.
He looked at nanami with steely brown eyes, “Respectfully, I am the best spy in all of Japan’s Eastern Division for a reason, sir.”
Yaga slammed the file shut. It resounds louder than it should’ve - and there was the slightest smile twitching at his lips. “Good.”
For the good of the nation.
The days thereafter weren’t what Nanami would consider a blur—rather a list of procedures pertinent to his mission, of which he went through them all step by step, strictly and methodically. An exercise so tried and tired by him that he could do them in his sleep (he always slept with one eye open).
First, he rented out a nice home in suburban Shibuya, a spy’s-distance away from the Zenin ancestral home. It was a cosy cookie-cutter home for the cosy cookie-cutter life that he supposes normal civilians have the privilege to live, with cookie-cutter welcome mats and a patch of green garden from which sprouted a spare sprig that one could never be too sure wasn’t plastic. It had a dog home, too. Not because of any request or seeking from Nanami’s side, but because most families that lived in such a place owned one.
So he went out and adopted a shelter dog to keep up with appearances.
And how to explain the mysterious funds to the nosy neighbors? Well, his cover story of living in Denmark because of his grandfather’s side could only hold up for so long - Nanami got a cover job as a psychiatrist at the nearest affluent hospital. And then…
Then came the slightly difficult part.
Nanami Kento had done research on twenty-one different orphanages in Tokyo and several more outside before he’d finally landed in Sendai. And that was where he met Itadori Yuji.
Name: Itadori Yuji.
Age: 6 [March 20th]
Family: None alive. His parents died shortly after his birth [cause unknown], and he was taken care of by his paternal grandfather - his only living family - until he, too, passed from illness [lung cancer].
Other: Has been rehomed four times in the four-month span that he’s been living at the institution. Gets along well with others, cheerful disposition—is generally a good kid, though he seems to have trouble finding a guardian that can handle his energy. No matter how much they tease and taunt him - in the cruel, unknowingly callous way of children - Itadori still attempts to engage with them day after day, particularly with his tiger toy. He just needs some love.
Nanami’s stern eyes lingered on that last word.
He looked up from the sheet that the caregiver had handed to him. It was the first one that he’d been given- and by the sheer speed at which they had, he assumed that they’d been more than eager to get rid of the pink-haired little boy. Nanami glanced around the cream-colored room; small and cardboard-strong. This was a shady place.
He makes note of its location and organization to pass over to Yaga later.
Under the rim of the paper, he could see two small shoes getting scuffed on the carpet.
And as he puts it down to stare at Itadori, the boy raises his tiger toy upwards. An offering.
Wide chocolate eyes and trembling lips.
He looked as if he was about to cry.
Nanami doesn’t take the offering—though he did crouch down and reach his hand out to clasp one chubby, cotton-stuffed hand, he mimicked shaking hands. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Tiger.” Albeit a little stiffly - Nanami somewhat awkwardly attempted to smooth his features down to something warm as he looked at the boy then. “And who might you be?”
He’s never seen a smile wider.
And thus, everything was going according to plan.
There was the slightest hiccup when it turned out that Itadori Yuji needed tutoring - a lot of tutoring - that Nanami pored and labored over until he was seeing fractions in his nightmares, before he could complete the entrance exam for Jujutsu Academy. But he got in—by some cosmic miracle, Itadori Yuji got in.
He’s never been prouder- as a fake father, of course.
Everything really was going to plan. First came the baby, then came the prestigious school acceptance to get Itadori to form an acquaintance with Fushiguro Megumi, then came the marriage.
A little out of order, he knows.
And then after bumping into you at the local bakery he often frequented, he knew he’d found his future wife.
Not in a romantic way—he swears!
He swears.
“Oh…you dropped this.” You’d caught his attention in that gentle tone of yours.
Dropping down, you’d handed him an embroidered handkerchief he’d dropped during the collision - his favorite item to carry, in addition to the fact that it had a slip of poison stuffed between the folds. One he’d been planning to use on one of the Zenin elders just today…
What would he have done without you?
Similarly crouching before you straightened yourself, Nanami had met your eyes tenderly as he took the poisoned handkerchief from you. “Thank you…and your name?”
You’d looked down shyly as you answered. Venom at your fingertips.
He killed a man that evening and could only think about you the entire time- in the best way.
Name: Well, he’d turned it over and over in his mind until it was practically emblazoned.
Age: You never ask a lady her age.
Occupation: Clerk at Tokyo City Hall.
Family/ friends: None of note.
Looks: Perfect.
And Nanami was never a romantic type of man to begin with - it was always work, work, work, espionage. And after a long, hard day of his duties (spying was surprisingly not as thrilling as the movies made it seem) he rarely had the time to think about anything more than that. Something…beyond just his responsibilities.
Something in the future.
He knew he wanted to retire, some day, but that was in a future he didn’t care to set a date on. Setting a date on it made it seem more real.
A picket-fence. A garden. A dog running around that he pretended to grumble at. The pitter-patter of small feet and the laughing of the one that followed it—all while he watched from the front porch. Flashes of such nonsense have run through his mind; but only in the dead of night when he could pass those off as fever dreams. And pretend to forget them in the morning.
And so Nanami Kento got married.
It was a hasty affair - about a week after he met you. Three dates and one introduction to Itadori later (it was important he liked you…because how else would the ruse of a happy family be believable?) and you were submitting a form of marriage registration to the very City Hall you worked at. New to the neighborhood, you didn’t have a lot of friends nor family to invite, which just made Nanami’s just so much easier.
To your coworkers, however, it had garnered the most amusing reaction.
Nanami had been present for a work function of yours, when you’d mustered up your courage and commented to one of your associates that he wasn’t just your boyfriend, and then you’d showed them the ring. He’s never seen more smug jaws dropped.
It’s then that he’d decided you were actually rather humorous. Humorous enough that perhaps this mission, despite its unknowing collaborators, won’t be too hellish after all…
Perhaps he’d even have a decent time playing pretend.
Before he has to leave it all - the home, the doghouse, the dog and the kid who’d be rehomed with a loving family he handpicks, and you.
.
.
.
One week before the marriage.
“You understand that he will be the most difficult target you’ve yet to encounter?”
“I understand.”
“You understand that he is highly-trained, highly-experienced, and dangerous?”
“I understand.”
The masked higher-up straightens and snarls at your assertiveness, “You understand that your mission is not over until you’ve succeeded in assassinating Nanami Kento?”
“I understand.” But no matter how much they attempt to deter you - you’re keeping your head held as high as ever. Hands behind your back. Dagger cutting through the dim lighting with its malicious glints. After so many years in this profession, you can only grow as miserable and nerve-wracked to an extent before every target simply becomes a job.
More than that; you fume silently as those damn higher-ups at the Garden underestimate you.
The Garden was a group of specially-trained assassins operating predominantly within inner-Tokyo, though you did branch off to other wards when required. And of them all, you were their #1: the best of the best, a kill count that you’d stopped measuring, the one they sent on only the most hazardous missions.
There was a reason you’d been nicknamed The Phantom.
Playboys. Politicians. Athletes and singers—you’ve seen it all. The good and the bad. The deserving and perhaps the undeserving- though you never pondered upon it.
They were all the same faceless, breathless targets to you. And your dagger always hit bullseye.
Sometimes, however…sometimes you did wonder what the bigger ripples of your jobs were. Would anyone search for them? Would anyone notice? Would anyone cry nor care? Was this, perhaps, what stopped you from finally leaving this damn place - were you deserving of such leniency?
Sometimes you did wonder whether you withheld from the simple pleasures in life because you were punishing yourself, in a way. A family. A hearth. A home. But a guilty assassin was no better than one of their own targets - there are more ways to die than just in the physical.
And so you didn’t think about it.
You didn’t do anything but glare at the higher-up that sat behind his desk, his papers, and his smooth white mask. Who were they to undermine you? “I have never failed a mission before, and I will never fail a mission ahead. I will take this job and complete it before you even know what’s happened.”
He lets out a wheezing chuckle- it was abnormal for them to be so flippant about your success rate when it comes to a job. “That’s the spirit.” He throws over a paper-thin file, “You’ll need it.”
You’ve taken down spies before- hell, you’ve even taken down other assassins. To have him act so dubious about this job? Jolting a step towards him, it really made you wonder about the nature of this particular target…
And so you’re flipping through the single page of information the Garden had on him.
Case 143
Codename: Agent 7:3 [rumored to be linked to the target’s impeccable ability to find the weakest points when attacking any building, vault, or person.]
Name: Nanami Kento.
Age: 27
Height: 6’1 - 6’2
Looks: Blond hair. Hazel eyes. Fine features. Broad-shouldered and fairly toned, he is known to be partial to suits and other clean-cut clothes above anything else.
Profession: Secret agent.
Family: Unknown.
Residence: Unknown.
Current mission: Unknown.
Status: Currently active and HIGHLY DANGEROUS.
Those last two words had been underlined twice.
But you were determined.
In the time assigned to you by the higher-ups, you deduced that you’d have about three attempts.
What’s that saying about keeping your friends close but your enemies closer? You wondered whether there was anything in there about marrying them.
.
.
.
First attempt.
Long-distance sniping wasn’t exactly the most comfortable technique.
Then again, perhaps you were just experienced enough to worry about such a thing. You’d be lucky.
You’re laid low on your front; against the slightly-damp rooftop of a building between SHIBUYA SKY and Shibuya Hikarie. The cold, hard floor pushed against your body and lifted you meters overlooking the scramble below—humans, animals, cars, all in a symbiotic collision of which contact never happened.
You’ve been married to Nanami Kento for about a week now.
And in that week you’ve taken note of his routine, his work hours, his favorite stops along the route…home. All under the guise - the guise - of being his considerate wife.
And it’d turned out to be a worthy sacrifice in the end once you’d discovered that the stoic, sensible Agent 7:3 had what you’d never have expected of him: a sweet tooth. Everyday after work, no matter how tired he is, he’d stop by the bakery he met you in—picking out a few treats to bring home to you and Itadori.
It was a cosy establishment squatted on a corner of Shibuya Crossing and next to the apothecary; vines creeping down the sides, wide-open wooden doors, and decorated with luscious baked goods in the window. The only reason you yourself had gone there was to manufacture a meeting with Nanami. But here he was right now, seated in a window booth with a book in his hands. Gold-rimmed glasses on his nosebridge. Legs stretched out beneath the table. Blond brows furrowed just a little as his eyes scanned the page.
He looked almost like something out of a movie. Perhaps he couldn’t have looked more unassuming if he tried.
You’re letting your gaze linger on him through the rifle scope for a few seconds.
And it’s in this brief pocket of time that Nanami sets his book down, takes off his glasses, and looks through the window straight in your direction. Yours.
You startle.
You take perfect aim at his head and shoot.
BANG!
Meanwhile, Nanami Kento is having a quiet relaxation - a rare moment. His ‘job’ as a psychiatrist kept him more busy than he would have expected, on top of using the position to spy on the vast Zenin members that flitted in and out of the hospital sometimes. He was about halfway through the last story of The King in Yellow, marking down notes on the Zenins in its margins, when he straightens up and glances down at his watch.
Humming to himself at the time, Nanami gathers his things and looks up at the sunny sky above. It was a beautiful day.
Thus, in prim, precise movements, he’s getting up - not too fast - and making his way to the counter to tip the serving staff extra.
CRASH!
Nanami’s taken just a single step away from where the bullet surely would have struck him—a honed head of metal that shatters the Tokyo atmosphere at over 1200 meters per second. With a deafening cracking sound, it makes the bakery window burst beneath its pressure, sending shards of glass flickering in his direction; Nanami steadily puts his open book down and lets the fragments hit the leather cover instead of him.
There’s a scream.
And then there’s chaos.
People running. Children crying. Cars stopping on the road. No one was hurt in the least - if anything, it was just that poor book he’d have to replace with a new cover.
But he understands that this line of work meant he was more used to such things than civilians- perhaps more than he should be. And he was a Wanted man - not by the law but by those who think they’re above it. And so he’s calmly walking over to the counter as the rest of the customers inside the bakery evacuate. Placing a large wad of cash on its wooden plane, he’s just about to leave before he looks more suspicious—before turning right back around and plucking out something from the lavish sweet display - your favorite. And then one more loaf of milk bread for Itadori.
Plopping them down in a bag, he makes his way out.
This morning, he’d told Itadori to meet him on the other side of Shibuya Crossing- he steps onto the zebra-patterned road right now and can see the little boy waving frantically from the other side. A ball of sunshine energy and a coat of orange far too big for him, but it’s one that he’d grow into - or at least, that’s the excuse Nanami had made when it’d turned out that he’d picked the wrong size. Damn, he needs to fix that.
For the mission, of course. Nanami shakes his head back into rationality.
Quickly crossing the road, the boy throws his arms around the blond man’s legs.
“Papa—!” He squeals, chubby hands grabbing at his three-piece suit. Itadori’s Spider-Man backpack jostles just a little as he jumps up and down, “What took you so long? It was so scawy waiting here…people are running about.”
“My apologies, Yuji.” Nanami responds, looking behind his small figure. “But I see you brought your friends along for moral support.”
Pink brows frown, “What’s mowal support?”
Behind him, the frames of Kugisaki Nobara and Fushiguro Megumi shuffle about - his (temporary) son’s best friends from school, and it was just as convenient that the black-haired boy was exactly their ticket into siphoning more information about the Zenin family - and Nanami nods at them graciously. “Thank you for walking my son here.”
“Hah, no problem.” Kugisaki crosses her arms smugly, “He was scared so of course we had to-”
“Was not—!”
Fushiguro, meanwhile, just squints at the sky. “There was a strange noise. It sounded like thunder.”
“There was, wasn’t there?” Nanami responds, looking around. The chaos had largely calmed down by now, and as police surrounded the bakery, little by little Shibuya seemed to be getting back to its usual sort of commotion—he looks down at the oblivious starry-eyed boy. “Perhaps that was your mother on her way, I always do say she fell from heaven.”
Itadori frowns, “That sounds like it would hurt.”
Fushiguro scoffs, “That sounds illogical.”
“What’s illogicwal mean?”
Kugisaki squeals, “That sounds romantic-”
“Ewwwww.”
“That’s right.” Nanami tilts his head up and looks in the direction between SHIBUYA SKY and Shibuya Hikarie. Where the shot had come from, he does not need to wonder why. “That is romantic, isn’t it?”
Again, right at you.
And from on top of that rooftop, the long-range rifle drops from your hands.
You hadn’t known that he’d be meeting the three kids afterwards. And perhaps if you’d had an inkling then…
No.
Even as you watched the miniscule shape of Nanami Kento - Agent 7:3 - throw Itadori over his shoulders and clasp both Fushiguro and Kugisaki’s hands as he carefully crossed the bustling road with them, heading in the direction of the sweets’ shop down the road (his second-favorite stop to spoil Itadori), you knew you had a job to do.
And you had to do it, even if it killed you in the process.
That evening, you’re home when he comes back.
“I’m home, darling.” Setting his heavy bags down, as usual. Letting Itadori in before gently clicking the door shut, as usual. Asking you how your day at ‘work’ was before wrapping you in a hug, as usual.
If he suspected you had anything to do with that stray gunshot at the bakery, then he’s made no indication since- you’d seen nothing on the news, either. And by now you’ve convinced yourself that the intensity of his gaze upon you on Shibuya Crossing was a mere fluke. A mere coincidence. Perhaps he was just looking at a strangely-shaped cloud above—
And then he produces the paper bag in his hands.
Looking inside, you gulp.
He’d memorized your order perfectly.
“I got the last one, can you believe it? It seems that the bakery will be undergoing some construction in the following weeks.” Nanami spoke as he shrugs off his coat, looking at you with a slight twinkle in his eyes. “It’s your luck, my love.”
“R-really…?” You didn’t know what to say. Merely holding the bag limply in your hands, as if it would detonate any second now. Just your luck, indeed…
Unsure where to even look- you’re staring after the pink-haired boy that’d rampaged inside, pretending he was Spider-Man.
“Mhm.” Nanami mutters to himself as he walks inside. “I’ll have to learn to make it at home, however…”
.
.
.
Second attempt.
Perhaps you needed some collaborators, too.
It’d been a beautiful summer-drenched Friday when Nanami had suggested taking Itadori and his two best friends out to the aquarium.
It was one of his few days off- which in and of itself was shocking. It seems that Nanami had been working himself to the bone recently, and the office had taken initiative to force the blond man into taking a holiday. You’d perked up in your love seat, a novel in your hands—but between the pages was a leaflet on poison concoctions that you’d been reading through.
“The aquarium?” You’re smiling sweetly up at your handsome husband, running about a hundred different ways you could kill him there. “Why, that sounds wonderful, Kento. I’ll get Yuji from the garden-”
“You just get yourself ready, darling.” Nanami’s voice was deep and warm - it felt like the spread of heat after drinking hot cocoa, the way it starts from the pit of your stomach before eventually ebbing into every one of your fingertips. “I’ll worry about wrangling Yuji into the bath. Take your time.”
Oh—all the assassination plans you could concoct in that time!
Attempting to keep the smile off of your face, you’re leaping up onto your feet and heading in the direction of your shared bedroom to get ready. Making just about one step- two- three…before halting in your tracks and swivelling right back around. Nanami’s keen ears catch onto the difference in the determined cadence of your footsteps and he looks back at you.
Questions ready on his tongue, “What’s wro-”
And for perhaps the first time, the ever-eloquent Nanami Kento is rendered speechless.
Because you’re placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning him towards you with a single tug- pressing your lips against his svelte cheek.
Nanami’s skin is warm against yours - and you know it only makes logical sense, but some part of you had perhaps wondered whether his body was just as cold as his professional demeanor. Despite being married you hadn’t quite…consummated the marriage yet—and he understood, he could wait. He didn’t need something if it wasn’t related to his mission, of course
And you’re trying to convince yourself that this is part of yours- to gain trust, you rationalize.
The kiss lasts less than two seconds, and your heart thump-thump-thumps against your chest as you pull away. Refusing to meet his eyes, his raised brows, his speechlessness, you’re turning heel and speed-walking to the bedroom.
All for the mission.
All for the mission.
All for the mission.
Little did you know that someone else in the house was thinking the same thing.
Nanami stands there unsteadily for a few seconds before heading to the garden to gather Itadori.
Before high noon, you were all ready and had picked up Kugisaki and Fushiguro to go to the aquarium - during which Nanami had been glad to snoop around the Zenin family home as he took the little boy off his guardian’s hands.
The aquarium was an entire ecosystem itself.
The entire world was seeped in blue, and sunlight dazzled from above the largest attractions to create patterns of gold that looked almost unearthly. Parents tugged by children, teenagers tugged by parents; friends and couples that flitted from tank to colorful tank in a near-aqueous way. Laughs and excited gasps—melding in symphony with the honking of clown horns, with the occasional burst of a balloon. It seems that many families - and you use the term because there was none better - had the same idea as yours, and the smell of sticky, sweet strawberry ice cream hits your nose as soon as you enter the area for water exhibits.
Passing by the lively tanks, hand-in-hand with Itadori, your gaze catches on something that sparks an idea in your mind. “Yuji…” You’re dropping down to be eye-level with the pink-haired little boy, “Why don’t you and your friends go and check out the touch tank over there?”
“The touch tank?” He nervously looks over to the lowly-fenced exhibit surrounded by children and a few handlers. It was a well-managed tank, widespread with nooks and crannies and rock masses along the sides, a hand-washing station before it; squeals emerged occasionally where a participant happened to touch something particularly slimy. He kicks the ground, “Hmm.”
Kugisaki wraps her arms around one of his, “Oh- c’mon, idiot.”
“Hey-”
And then she leans in and whispers in something that wasn’t a whisper at all - but what would a six-year-old know about secrets? Adults knew far too much. “Your momma obviously wants to spend some romantic time with your papa, don’t you have common sense?”
You have to bite back a laugh- sure, you wanted to be alone with him.
Though not for any reason they could conjure up.
He sputters, “I-I…” Looking over at Fushiguro for help.
Fushiguro, notably, doesn’t help.
Instead he walks over to an exhibit of sea urchins.
“I want momma and papa to be happy.” Itadori fiddles with his orange overcoat. And your heart clenches—when this is all over you don’t know how you’re going to explain this to him. But you’d be damned if you weren’t allowed to take him for yourself- wait.
You’re shaking your head.
You were thinking nonsense.
And you’re composing yourself just in time for Itadori to look up at Nanami and receive a gentle nod in reassurance - whatever he does, the older man would be content with.
Itadori lets himself be dragged away by the ginger-haired girl- only if that meant he could drag the human version of a disgruntled little sea urchin with him, too. And as the kids have their fun, you’re promising that the two of you won’t be too far away and to definitely call one of you if they need you—before you’re wrapping both arms around one of Nanami’s.
Hugging him to you, you peer into his gold-flecked eyes softly. “I’d really like to see the blue-ringed octopus exhibit, Kento.”
He slightly coughs out his answer, “A-and so we shall, my love.”
And so here was the plan: the venomous creatures were the least-visited. So you’d drag the spy away where one couldn’t see, get him distracted by them, and knock him unconscious with the chloroform-soaked handkerchief you had carefully packaged in one pocket. Dagger in your other pocket. Then you’d finish the job, of course.
Then, outside, was a Discretion Team from the Garden that would discard the evidence, and let you take the kids back home- perhaps even concoct some excuse about ‘a work thing’ coming up at the hospital and causing him to leave.
It was perfect.
It was perfect.
Next to the squid exhibition and the camouflage section, Nanami Kento was completely and utterly entranced by the octopus exhibit. His face paints in a blue light as he watches the alien-like movements of the creatures, so much so that he doesn’t even notice you slipping behind him—digging through your pockets before plastering his face with the damp handkerchief.
Nanami’s hand comes up to touch your wrist, though you’re unmoveable.
He breathes the chloroform in deep.
And then he wavers.
You got him.
Your heart rate spikes, thinking it’s time- fuck, you’ve finally gotten him. Keeping one hand with the chloroform pressed up against him, you’re just about to reach for the dagger snuck into your pocket. He was on the verge of being completely knocked out.
But someone on the verge of being completely knocked out wouldn’t tighten his grip on your wrist, would he?
Your heart runs cold.
Preventing you from grabbing your weapon, you feel Nanami smile beneath the thin fabric. Before imitating a sneeze into the handkerchief- “A—choo! Thank you, my love. How did you know I was allergic to the smell of squid ink?”
“You-” And you’re tugging your hand - and the venomous handkerchief - away from him as though his skin burned.
“Yes?”
But he keeps his fingers intertwined with yours even as you pull away, letting them dangle between you two when you’re stepping into his line of sight once more and assessing every inch of him. His eyes? Clear. His gait? Steady. His expression? Normal (handsome).
No signs of dizziness, fatigue, or the signs of your plan working in motion.
But the chloroform—
Eventually, he lets your hands fall limply to your sides, and you’re looking down at the fabric in shock. Nanami Kento was still standing- and he hums as he turns back to the blue-ringed octopuses; slithering underneath an arch of coral as they, too, went into hiding.
He clasps his hands behind his back and speaks to no one in particular, “Odd, isn’t it? I’m immune to 562 poisons and over a thousand toxic substances, but it’s squid ink that makes my system flare up.”
Your jaw drops. Silently, solemnly, you find yourself standing beside him. “You’re…immune…”
He merely nods, staring through the tank. Gaze on something far away.
“I bet that was difficult.” There was a Poisons Division in the Garden as well, and you’d heard of the sheer torture they had to go through to make themselves immune to such things: one could make the body a scab to all things toxic, but underneath that was still a wound. You yourself knew that all too well. Ultimately, you say. “Must have to do with your work as a psychiatrist.”
Nanami nods, “Must have.”
There’s a shriek then the pitter-patter of small footsteps.
You’re so wound-up and taut that it makes you jump slightly closer to Nanami- and he’s readily steadying you against his side. Arms on your shoulders.
“See, I told you they were being all romantic—!”
Nanami holds back a chuckle, “We should get going.” And unbeknownst to you, his eyes follow…follow…follow a man with dark hair streaked with grey, one that could only ever belong to the Zenin family. Zenin Naobito was lurking in the corners of the aquarium, the most unassuming place for one to conduct secret meetings with contractors that pretended they weren’t here for the same reason.
Because why else would Nanami go on a family outing, right?
Right?
.
.
.
Third (and final) attempt.
“—and don’t forget your second change of clothes.” The only thing preventing Itadori from darting out of the house and into any oncoming cars was your single hand hooked around the handle of his Spider-Man backpack.
The only thing keeping him in one place.
Somewhat.
With the other, you’re attempting to shove down the spare t-shirt and shorts you’d picked out for him. Knowing your son, there wasn’t any sort of trouble, puddle, or cake batter that he wouldn’t somehow find and get into. And you don’t know what sort of house the Zenins ran, but you were determined to be on their good side.
And so you’re huffing and puffing, beads of sweat forming at your forehead, as you attempt to push it down the humble space- honestly, you didn’t understand why they didn’t just make these things a bit bigger. Just the slightest bit.
At this rate, he’s never going to…
“Itadori Yuji.” Your voice comes out deadpan, and the pink-haired boy turns to you with wide, innocent eyes.
Sweetly, “Yes, momma?”
“Why have you packed your entire Hot Wheels collection for a sleepover?”
Whatever he spouts about wanting to show Fushiguro and Kugisaki, whatever explanations he’s giving about moral support (honestly, where did he even learn such a thing?), goes in one ear and out the other.
Because yes—Fushiguro had invited Itadori and Kugisaki over for a sleepover at their home. It was convenient given that the two boys were practically next-door neighbors, and after the success of their aquarium visit you were hesitant to part the trio. Thus, it seems that Fushiguro had all but thrown a tantrum and attempted to run away from home in order to convince his guardian to agree to a sleepover. Which was sweet, of course.
But this was Itadori’s first, and any mother would be nervous about that sort of thing- wait.
But you weren’t a mother…technically. This was all a ruse for your mission, and so you’re shaking your head and pushing the bundled-up clothes deeper into his backpack, perhaps in order to drive that point home.
You’re interrupted by a gentle hand on your shoulder.
“Let me take over, my love.”
You’re shifting aside to let Nanami handle the little issue swiftly—with a firm hand - thick fingers, prominent veins, that wedding ring on his left hand - he tugs Itadori back inside the house. “Now now, sunshine. What have we said about taking our toys out of the house?”
He tilts his head up n’ juts his little bottom lip out, “To take only one.”
Nanami lifts the bag just slightly to the side and takes a glance, “And does this look like only one?”
“No…” Itadori sighs.
Soon, you’re finding just about half the Hot Wheels production line laid out, side-by-side and color-coordinated, on the threshold to your home. It looked like a miniature parking lot of which Itadori grumbled as he pushed the clothes into the newly-presented space inside the bag and zipped it shut. Pouting.
Nanami chuckles gently, crouching down so that he was eye-level with the boy. ”You know momma and papa love you, right, sunshine?”
“I know…”
“And you understand why it would be difficult to take all the cars?”
Itadori takes a second to think, before giving you both a determined nod. “I do.” And you’re feeling something within you soar- but you’re forgoing wondering just what it means to feel so proud for the boy.
“Good.” Your blond husband stands with heave, taking one of Itadori’s arms and turning around to look at you. “Say bye-bye to momma, Yuji.”
He turns with a beaming smile and a chubby arm raised in goodbye. “Bye-bye, momma.”
“I’ll see you in a bit, my love.” Nanami leans in and—presses a sweet, sweet peck to your cheek. Heat seems to sear from where his lips touched, spreading across your chest and all the way down to your toes. You feel your heat batter against your ribcage- fuck.
Was this what he’d felt the other day?
Two seconds; it’s as far as your intimacy as a married couple goes. And in that time Itadori brings his hands up to cover his eyes with a giggled, “Ewwwww—!”
With an amused shake of his head, the father-son duo set off. Since the Zenin household was in the same neighborhood, about a street away, it was only about a five-minute walk to get there.
Which is why you had to act fast.
Nanami Kento would be home in less than ten minutes - he wouldn’t have Itadori to slow down his long strides on the way back. And you’re standing there with the front door ajar as they leave, waving…waving…waving-
The very moment their backs disappear, you’re slamming the door shut and racing to the kitchen.
There, you’re reaching up to the very topmost cabinet: grabbing the new liquorice-flavored cereal you knew that no one in the house would touch. Of course, you’d emptied out the cereal this very morning.
And all that remained in the cardboard box inside was a slim vial you’d bought from the apothecary.
It wasn’t exactly what one would consider menacing, but it was exactly what you needed for your Hail Mary attempt at completing your mission. It was made of a crystal-clear glass, fashioned into a reticello design, with a label containing some information and a stopper of gold that made the contents within seem far more elegant than they were in reality.
Dark brown powder that looked like ground up dirt.
An unassuming little substance you’d rippled with excitement over at the apothecary’s. So much so that you’d damn-near didn’t hear half the things she said- but it’s fine. You were an assassin, right?
And what was an assassin that didn’t know how to use the most powerful poison in the nation?
Material XXX.
You’ve never seen it with your own two eyes. Nanami might have been immune to chloroform, but there was no living person on Earth that could resist this.
Oh—it was beautiful…And it mixed so perfectly with the ground-up coffee you were adding to your coffee maker. One steaming hot cup of coffee had already been made and upon the kitchen counter beside you, it let out hot swirls of heat as you tampered with the other one. Sweetly fragrant.
You smile- he’ll be dead in one sip. And, sure, you might have some explaining to do to Itadori - but doesn’t all good coffee spark conversation?
You’re still running through the list of excuses in your mind once the brewing comes to a stop.
And just in time, the front door clicks! open.
“He was so excited he tripped five times.” Nanami’s deep sigh echoes into the kitchen. You hear the shuffling sounds of him taking his shoes off, shrugging his coat onto the rack, stepping inside. “Though the other two were just the same- could you please make us some coffee, darling, while I get started on dinner?”
“You’ll ruin your dinner, Kento.” You call out to him, “And I already have.”
His handsome head pops out from the door, golden strands slightly tousled from the walk. Nanami breathes in the unmistakable scent of coffee piercing the kitchen air, and smiles. “You’re the best.”
“In many ways.” Leaning back against the counter, you’re handing his freshly-made cup - poured into a large mug that said #1 Papa - to him.
Nanami’s large hands pluck it from yours and he whispers, “Thank you.” Looking down at the scalding concoction that still swirled within, “I really mean it, you know.”
“What?” You’re looking up at him in surprise.
“You’re the best.”
Your fingers grow tighter around your own mug: World’s Best Momma.
“Drink your coffee before it gets cold, Kento.”
He hums through a smile, before blowing on the similarly-fragrant steam. It smelled of jasmine and spring and something like love; but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? It’s almost a tease—watching Nanami swirl the coffee around a bit, watching him affirm his grip, watching him leeeean his stern lips in before-
“Aren’t you going to drink up, my love?” You almost startle - Nanami was staring at you through his blond tresses, brows furrowed in slight concern. “Are you alright? You look a little…tense.”
“I-I’m perfectly alright—” You hasten to explain- if Nanami got suspicious now and refused to drink his coffee, then there was no way you’re completing this mission. Without wasting anymore time, you’re bringing your coffee up to your own lips - though you don’t take a sip just yet. “Just thinking about work, you know how it is…”
He nods. “We’ve both been really busy lately, haven’t we? I apologize if I’ve made you feel a little lonely these days-”
“Not at all-”
“But still.” Nanami was determined. Those molten brown eyes of his seemed to be pinning you down to the tiled kitchen floor, and the heat of your body contrasted with its frigidness. “I apologize. Tonight, let’s just take some time for the two of us—we can watch a show, we can do some puzzles, tell me about your favorite book and we can read it together.”
You’re refusing to meet his eyes- you can’t. “That…that would be lovely.”
“To us.” Your husband - the spy, you have to remind yourself - outreaches his arm and clinks! your two mugs together in a toast.
“To us.” You weakly whisper.
And then you take a sip and watch him do the same.
Immediately, you know something’s wrong.
From the slightly sour- slightly sweet- taste coating your tongue—to the way that Nanami takes a long, deep swig and sighs out in satisfaction. He doesn’t drop dead. He doesn’t grab his throat in agony. He doesn’t even stagger where he’s standing as he loses consciousness-
Nanami sets his coffee mug down and grins.
“Poison working for you, darling?” And your own drops from your hand and shatters. “Oh dear, let me take care of that-”
“Stop.”
In the middle of reaching for the sweeping pan, Nanami halts and looks at you with slightly unfocused, glazed eyes. Heat rising to his cheeks. Breaths coming out in murked pants. Ones that you were sure mirrored your own.
You felt as if you had a fever five times over and someone had still set you on fire—
Your temperature was soaring through the roof and searing through your skin, making your clothes feel clammy and clinging onto your form. A bead of sweat trickles down the side of your temple. But even more than that was the way that- fuck, it was the heat between your damn legs. It was aching. Something deep and primal—something clawing at you from your insides and making you shudder as you lock eyes with Nanami once again.
Before you know it, he’s wrapping an arm around your waist to help steady you. And nothing more- did you want something more?!
You’re boring into his eyes and finding out that he wasn’t any better. Not in the least.
In fact, he’d drunk more of the potioned coffee than you.
Your wettened lips part and out comes the only thing you know how to say right now, “Kento.”
He jolts at the sound of his first name wrapped around your tongue. So sexual.
And his own words come out a gravelly croon, “Didn’t read the label, assassin?” That smile of his looked almost feral in the light you were looking at him right now. “Because I did.”
He attempts to pull away to show the label to you- the vial of powder he’d found.
The plans he’d ruined.
The secrets he’d discovered.
The temperature in the kitchen was near-sizzling.
But the only thing you can think to do is claw your hands outwards and clutch his white shirt with an unfounded ferocity. One of his buttons pop! off and end up on the kitchen floor.
Chuckling, he gives up letting you see the label for yourself. If you won’t let him go, then…without a single warning, Nanami’s leaning in so that his pretty lips graze your ear. The front of his toned chest pushes up against you- and perhaps the only thing that helps you focus is the rapid, ravenous ba-dump! Ba-dump! Ba-dump! of his heart. Pummeling. “Because if you did, then perhaps you’d have seen that Material XXX isn’t supposed to come into contact with caffeine, my love…”
You gasp, hands twisting even deeper into his button-up.
“Because then, it doesn’t become a poison at all.” The long line of his nose glides down your throat, sending shivers skittering across wherever he was in contact with. He stops against a spot you knew was sensitive and softly blooooooows—cold air against hot skin.
You shiver.
And he merely continues in a rasp, “Because then, it becomes a substance that draws out your deepest desires. Amplifying pre-existing needs that the host contains, those that might be hidden due to…other reasons. So consider it an experiment of sorts. Can you recognize what this concoction is for you, darling?”
“A-an aphrodisiac.” Your eyes threaten to flutter shut- the mere breeze of his breath makes your thighs clench.
He nods. “An aphrodisiac.”
“How long have you known?” More honest than ever; the question blurts out of your lips.
Nanami takes the time to think, “Since the sniping in Shibuya is when I knew.” With lewd, lethargic eyes he looks you up and down- up and down…“But to be honest, I’ve always suspected.”
You growl—“So then you know I’m here to kill you-”
“So try me.”
You lunge.
.
.
.
And perhaps that was how he got here.
Nanami feels the very pointed tip of your heel graze his bulging erection- and he bucks. Not enough to finally free himself, but enough that it makes the chair cricket—and you’re looking down at him through your lashes.
He’s forced to stop his head from throwing backwards, bearing his sensitive throat. Maybe it was the pressure, maybe it was the aphrodisiac, maybe it was the fact that he’s wanted you for so fucking long now- but he feels zaps of white-hot pleasure course through his body.
All the way from the in-betweens of his meaty thighs, riveting like snakes into every one of his limbs. Eventually up to his poor brain.
Slow and steady; you’re watching the fabric of Nanami’s trousers darken. Seeping and spreading the more he tried to press his legs together to hide it.
And once you’re roverin’ your foot over his cock- he moans.
Grin spreading, the further you step down on him, the louder those squelches from his puddle of cum were. “Awww, already, Kento? They didn’t have that in your file.”
Somehow through it all, he manages out such a ravenously handsome grin. Blond hairs disarrayed. Tie askew. Shirt unbuttoned down until you could see golden hairs peeking out. “Th-they probably didn’t have a lot of things.”
“True.” You respond, stepping down harder and he gasps- “But remember who’s in charge now.”
Nanami looks at you through unfocused, half-lidded eyes. “Always was you, darling.”
“Flatterer.” Harder.
“Fuh-fuuuuck…” He spits. Head dropping forwards, a thin line of drivel escapes from his parted mouth and adds onto the mess below. You’re watching it glisten underneath the dim lighting of the bedroom - one you’d somehow manage to drag the blond spy into. “Do that again and I’m going to cream my pants once more, my love.”
Your jaw slightly drops at the matter-of-fact way he was phrasing it. The Nanami Kento you’d been married to never uttered a word like this- “Well…”
“Is that what you’d like?” And, suddenly, his eyes are sharper than before. You had your leg raised so that you could step on his most sensitive bits, but you failed to realize that also meant he had access to your own…to rub his cheek against your inner thigh like a cat yearning for the cream. “Is that what you want your husband to do in repentance?”
“W-we’re not even really married-” Taken aback. Heat flaring where his pants fanned you- your dagger trembles where you held it against his throat. Close enough to cut.
And yet he was still craning his face - his mouth - as near as he could get to your cunt. Mouth watering. A crimson bead where your blade was rested-
“But we could be.” And you’re lost for words. Nanami just looked so pathetic beneath you in ways you never could’ve even imagined: eyes blown wide and dazed, mouth permanently unhinged as he inched towards your soaked underwear, breaths getting more n’ more labored the longer you kept pinning his clothed cock down with your heel.
He had his hands cuffed behind him and was aching to get between those legs - and you’re unsure whether you should blame just the aphrodisiac. Desperation seeps into his words, “But we could consummate this marriage.”
Your lips part.
He doesn’t waste a second.
“Seven times over just to make up for the time we’ve lost.” And then he’s tipping his head back and bearing you with a grin, “Fuck my cock raw, my wife.”
And how could you ever say no to that?
You don’t—instead, what you’re doing is taking advantage of the needy way his jaw was unhinged in a soundless prayer. One that you’re answering with a direct spit- lips pursed, you’re letting a glittering glob of saliva paste against his lips.
Purposefully missing the precise target, the lewd translucent liquid splatters against the side of his lips before ultimately trickling inwards. And you’re watching with your jaw dropped as his Adam’s apple bobs- as he swallows.
Perhaps that was the last straw.
The tip of your glinting blade draws a perfect line down Nanami’s middle - just enough pressure to scrape a harmless line of white down his exposed skin. And then you’re slashing those ropes that bound him to the chair.
Metal restraints, you watch him semi-free himself.
And you’re turning around and walking to the bed.
Sitting at the very edge.
Resting your palms behind you.
Your legs spread-spread-spreeeeeead wide enough that he gets a view good enough to make his slightly-teary eyes bulge. Lips parting. Cock twitching. You’re tilting your head casually to the side and beckoning him—“If you want it, come and get it, Nanami Kento.”
Handcuffed and hands behind his back, the famous agent has no other choice than to get on his knees and crawl over to you.
Fucking crawling.
The carpet chafes beneath his knees, the sound echoes as he inches and inches- torturously slow. Body bowed. Chest heaving.
Whilst you don’t move a single degree.
It might have been hours- it might have been fucking eons that are passing by before Nanami reaches the foot of the bed; burning up far more from the fever of wanting you than any aphrodisiac in existence. He honed senses raise into the air - and he’s getting a whiff of that honeyed fragrance from your pussy. Almost singing to him, surely it wasn’t just because of that powder that he thinks it’s the most delicious-smelling thing on Earth.
His stomach nearly growls.
And then Nanami’s between your parted legs and famished.
All good spies deserve a treat, right?
Before you know it, Nanami’s leaned in and having his lips glued to your clothed cunt. Fucking glued. They were puckered and pert—both pairs of lips, and the vibrations of his moan make your back arch as he tastes you for the very first time.
Just the most innocent kiss.
The first time that he’s getting everything he’s fucking dreamed of.
Because whenever you left the house dressed so prettily, whenever you hummed at the taste of your favorite baked good, whenever you bent over to pick up something- you didn’t know it, but…Nanami stared.
Oh, how he stared n’ licked his hungry lips.
Wondering just how sweet your pretty, pretty cunt would taste - just how fucking sooooft and tender your pussylips would feel once he’s finally giving them that nice French kiss they deserved. All up on his tongue.
Despite being such a gentleman to everyone around him—who’d have guessed that Nanami Kento would have the dirtiest thoughts of them all? That whenever he gazed upon you with that ‘ruse’ of affection, he was actually hiding something far…far darker.
The dirtiest thoughts that he was acting upon right now.
With his honed tastebuds swipin’ down your wet slit, Nanami counts every bead of slick that you’re leaking through your panties. Sugary sweet. He’s boring his smoldering gaze into yours as he—with a slurp! lets those pearly translucent droplets collect on the tip of his tongue, and then glide, glide, gliiiiiide deep down to the back of his throat.
Blond lashes flickering his eyes shut at the flavorful taste, Nanami groans.
“C-can I prove it now…?”
You almost don’t recognize his voice.
The tone of it sends fire shooting straight between your legs- and without thinking twice, you lean your weight on your hands and edge even closer. Whining, “Prove what, Kento?”
And he seems almost embarrassed to answer.
Almost shy now—
Though the heat of the aphrodisiac and the globules of slick stuck to his chin were making him more of an honest man by the second. “I need to prove that m’worthy of being your husband, pussy.”
Was he talking to you or…?
Fuck.
Sense coming back to him in bursts and stutters, Nanami shakes his head briefly- “I mean-” A blush rises to the tips of his ears, though his eyes remain as starved as ever—“I need to prove that m’worthy of being a good husband to both you and-” His biceps bulge as he struggles against the handscuffs briefly, pathetically and lovingly nuzzling the hot in-betweens of your folds. “-this girl right here.”
The way he says it…fuck.
He gives off the impression of a man that’s been starved for ages- for eons. There was something almost wolfish imprinted onto his expression, and the whites of his teeth feature an appearance between your legs as Nanami leans in; with knitted brows and a ragged emphasis, he’s asking - begging - once more. “Please-” Mahogany eyes just so earnest, “Marry me?”
Marry him?
Your jaw drops.
Was he so pussydrunk already that he’s genuinely proposing?
Or was it just the aphrodisiac—you’re not waiting to find out.
Readily, Nanami only needs to feel a single shove of your glistenin’ wet pussy against his mouth - before he’s letting his eyes roll to the back of his skull. Farther and farther. Almost blindly, he uses his pointed chin to dig himself even deeper. And he couldn’t spread your pretty thighs apart with his arms, so he’s resorting to fitting his burly body - shoving your legs apart with his broad shoulders - until he gets closer to your core. Your dripping wet core,
Simply soaked.
Just a single strand of blond sticks to his forehead—usually-slicked hair coming out of its neat style now. And Nanami isn’t shy to sliiiide apart your drenched panties with his tongue, then start pressing kiss after open-mouthed kiss.
Wide-mouthed. Gaping.
Just the most teasing, faintish whispers of his tongue. Feverish in speed.
The sopping, smooth edge of his tastebuds lodge inside and slathers itself in all of your syrupy juices. Jaggedly probin’ in and out. “Is this how my wife wants it? Does this, mmm- feel good, my love?”
And you hadn’t even realized that your eyes were closed until you’re fluttering them open—looking through tear-filled lashes at the handsome man between your legs. “Y-yessss…deeper, Kento.”
His eyes suddenly clear in urgency.
Mind befogged with lust - but he’s alert enough to recognize your pretty pleas. And without a single second wasted, the slashes of his tongue scour even deeper inwards. With all his slick inches he’s tunneling into your pussy- and your toes curl at the sensation of him driving into spots unknown. “A-and?” He spits, “Is this good?”
He’s just so eager to please. “Nghhh, yes.” Blabbering out, “Just a bit more to the side now, honey.”
Obediently, he cocks his head and angles his kisses. The layers of his lips smush with your delicate pussy, until it was as if he’s stuck there by adhesive - you don’t think he’s pulling away enough to even breathe…and he wouldn’t mind forgoing his own comfort to make sure you’re feeling your best. “Is this good?” The big, bad spy that has all of Tokyo’s underbelly trembling pleads.
“Yes-”
“And what else?”
“Wh-what…?” Stare widening in surprise.
That cute expression of yours - the way your cunt seems to splash! another wad of your slick onto his ready tastebuds - makes him rattle at his chains. As though to break through. As though to ravish you whole.
But the only thing he’s succeeding in doing is letting gravity stoop his face even lower onto your pulsating pussy. Every throb was just so delicous—and Nanami swears he’s feeling his own heartbeat synchronize with the rapid cadence of it. “What else do you need from your husband? Do you need more tongue?”
Just then, you’re feeling the ridged texture of his tastebuds start drilling even deeper. That cutely pink tip of his tongue starts bludgeoning inside as though reaching for your very cervix.
And he’s hatching out something- something almost delirious. “Do you need it sloppier? Because I can- mmm, do sloppier.” The cacophonous noise from beneath your swollen folds starts growing in both pitch and volume as he increases his speed, thick, ribbony strings of slick coating the edges of his mouth - “I can make it faster. Slower. Sexier.”
You’re straining your hamstrings to push off the springy mattress, “P-please—”
“I can eat you out like a husband should.”
Munch-munching away at everything your pussy had to offer. Everything and anything.
He’s jostling his body so painfully close to yours- skin against skin. Lips against lips. Without the gesticulation of his hands to balance himself, it was rare that he’d find a moment to push up and part from your pussy - and whenever he did, it just meant he wasn’t doing his job well enough.
Nanami chases after even the slightest movements of your restless hips. And there’s a slight crack emanating from his metal handcuffs when the straight top of his nose taps your throbbing clit.
“Tell me, my wife—tell me what you want.”
It feels like you’re being struck by shards of lighting itself, “J-just like that, Kento-”
“Just like that? Or even more- hah.” He pants out in a raspy wheeze. Nanami’s voice was low- lower than you can ever recall it being. “Don’t hafta lie to me, darling. Your husband can give you aaaaanything and everything.”
A shallow moan cracks at the back of your throat by the way he’s emphasizing his words- notably by reeling his thick tongue out and drag-drag-draaaagging it all across the forefront of your cunt. “Th-then…ngh, I want whatever it is that you want, Kento.”
His golden brows shoot up to his hairline, “What’s- hck! that, my love?”
And in a split-second - perhaps it’s your assassin side coming out, perhaps it’s the aphrodisiac that’s dialing every emotion up to the max - you’re grabbing a searing hold of Nanami’s pale tresses. A proper fistful that lets you jerk the strong man off of your cunt and gazing his glistening peripherals up at you.
He’s drawing his mouth away with a wet plop! The jutted-out edge of his lower lip trembles at the thought of not being in contact with your tasty cunt, and you have to tap the side of Nanami’s face to get him to fully focus his attention on you.
It takes a little while for his lava-like eyes to peer up at you. “Y-yes, my wife…?”
Chuckling just a bit at the way he’s lost his train of thought - perhaps every thought he’s ever conjured up once he’s tasting your cunt. “What do you want, Kento? Tell me what you’d like…tha’s gonna please me the most.”
“But I beg to-”
“I know you want it.” And he didn’t forget about those ruthless heels of yours, did he? The broad frame of Nanami Kento shudders at the pointed sensation of your heels gliding up his open thighs. Trouser-covered and cum-drenched, you’re feeling for the bumpy area where his fat cock throbbed- and crushing down on it with the flats of your shoe. “This thing doesn’t lie to me, honey. Just tell me what the little spy wants.”
“I…fuck, this is embarrasing- this is so ungentlemanly-” But that was a ship long sailed. And he finds himself drooping even further into the heavenly in-betweens of your legs.
And you’re witnessing the veins on his beefy forearms pop out, the skin of his forehead perspiring- and it almost feels to you as if the blond man was holding himself back at this very moment. A shiver runs through you as you wonder just what him giving his all would mean for you…
And his swollen mouth cracks open, “Please…” And it’s not you that’s starting to beg…it’s Nanami himself. Deep and guttural wrenched out from his voicebox, he sends rumbles across your body like thunder. “Please push me even d-deeper into your cunt.” Nuzzlin’ your clit with his nose, he murmurs. “Push me so far deep- ride my tongue- use me until my mouth’s raw and I can’t even breathe.”
And you know you’re the one that asked him…but you can’t help but let your jaw hang speechlessly.
“I need you to make you c-cum on my tongue five times before I can call myself your husband.”
The answer takes some time to choke out, and when it finally does you’re feeling embarrassed at the slightly pitchy tone it takes. “Then do it.” With his sweaty strands plastered to your palm, and your heel being used to steady yourself—and push down on his convulsing cock. You give him no warning before pushing him down deeper.
He sputters-
“I’m going to ride your face now, Kento.” And you’re shocked by your ability to keep your words from slurrin’ together now. “Do it- do everything it is that you want to do. But no pulling back to breathe. No cumming until I do.”
And he’s peering up at you with the most loving half-lidded eyes, “Yes, my wife.”
That man was a goner for his wife—you.
“Hngh—mmm- K-Kento!” It’s just about the only thing your spit-drivelled lips can echo right now. The sound travels across the room before bouncin’ into Nanami’s eardrums, and he swears it’s the most beautiful sound he’s heard. Because in a sultry split-second, he’s loosening his body up and letting you pin his face between your legs.
Then veering your hips upwards and upwards.
Frenzied, squelching movements of your hips. Your body was just crashing into his in the most sinful collision, and it was making the skin of his high cheekbones start to redden and sting- Nanami barely has the time to part his lips and take in an inhale—
Before your sopping pussylips are plastering to his mouth once more. And he’s lappin’ his tongue away wilding onto every inch he could reach - all around the hidden crevices of your cunt, before entering through your tight hole.
Nanami’s muscle was just so thick that he made you keen with the intrusion of his tastebuds. Feeling up the hugging walls of your channel, before you’re swearing he’s reaching for that one spot that made your eyes roll.
“Shit-” You’re babbling out, hands shaking where you held him down. “Sh-shiiiiiit, just like that. Does that feel good for you too, baby?”
He’s feeling the flaps of his lips start to swell and his lungs ache for breath- “Yes.” He’s never answered anything truer in his life - and it wasn’t just the aphrodisiac, though it did only seem to be getting stronger by the second. “Fuck—yes, and d-don’t keep doing that with your heel or m’gonna cum.”
“What?” You ask innocently - fully knowing the ministrations you were carrying out beneath your line of sight and his. Your heel was flattened over his massive bulge and smoothing up and down, up and down, up and down—practically jerking Nanami off though more with the pressure you were pitting against him.
The nib of your heel grazes his mushroomy tip and he bucks- “M’gonna cum, my love…”
Almost in agony.
You smile as you reply, “Me too.” Before leaning down just the slightest inch in proximity of him - as though sharing a secret between just the two of you in this world. “But that’s only one of five.”
He grunts.
Fuck- he didn’t want to disappoint his beautiful wife. He can’t. He couldn’t.
And as though crazed, Nanami’s flickering the inches of his tongue through and through that dripping entrance of yours. In and out. Stirrin’ around his lengthy muscle in juuuust the way he knew would hit those pretty orifices that made you cry out so loud, Nanami’s focusing on your g-spot for a few seconds at a time to make sure you’re experiencing as much pleasure as possible with every thrust.
Through it all, his nose remains pressed up against your throbbing clit. “One down, four to go.”
“What do you…” Your toes curl then—because Nanami had predicted it before you had. With a sudden flash behind your eyes, you’re crashing into one wave of pleasure after the other - starting up from the pleasure-riddled area between your legs and climbing up into every cranny of your body afterwards.
Your arms go limp. Your back arches perfectly.
“Sh-shiiiiiit- that feels so good.” Your head tilts backwards as the sudden euphoria overtakes you, and your heartbeat only seems to accelerate by twofold after you take a look down at Nanami himself.
His eyes were rolling to the depths of his skull, until only the whites of them were visible. His mouth was agape and his body was almost moving on autopilot—pure carnal instinct simply lappin’ and lappin’ away at your cunt - sending sparks roaring through your body every time his dexterous nose struck your clit. His cock was twitching away furiously beneath your long heels.
And you’re quite sure that Nanami himself was on the verge of an orgasm- “Don’t cum.” You’re pressing down on his cock.
He jolts ever-so-slightly - though his movements don’t falter for a single second. And he was slightly muffled from his…position, though you do manage to make out a scoff. “Who did you think I was?” Nanami responds in a gravelly tone, “M’your husband, darling. And a husband is always supposed to keep his vows.”
You don’t mention that you technically didn’t have a ceremony with vows and everything.
Because in the next mere moments, Nanami has his tongue thrusted back inside and his chin glued to the bottom of your wet slit. No matter how much you’re bucking and moaning, he’s determined to accomplish that little wish you—he had had.
And with the textured swabs of his tongue, he’s pulling out one more orgasm. Two more. Three more-
You think you’ve lost count by the time you’re all sprawled out and spent on the bed. Throwing your head back, letting your heels hook onto his shoulders and tug him even closer - you’re all but begging for mercy as dopamine leaves stars bursting behind your eyelids.
Your cunt was just so heated and raw at this point - though the aphrodisiac kept your slippery slick coming until it was drenchin’ Nanami all the way down to his collarbones.
His invisible dusting of blond on top of his upper lip glistens with the sap that clings onto it, and Nanami peers up at you with hollow, drunken eyes finally. “How many was that, my love?”
Would he believe it if you said you didn’t fucking know—
Apparently you didn’t have to remain wondering, because those words are leaving your lips mindlessly. They take a few seconds to penetrate Nanami’s own foggy mind- but with something akin to a crooked grin, he raises his head. “S’that so?”
You’re shivering once he pulls his tongue out and presses a loud peck on top of your cunt.
“My poor, poor wife—did your husband go too hard?” And you’re not sure what’s in his intense gaze that makes you gesture out a single nod - an embarrassing nod. But you’re doing so anyway, and you hiss when he presses a final kiss and raises himself up onto his haunches. “But I have kept my end of the deal, darling. Didn’t your husband make you proud?”
“Y-yes—”
“Didn’t your husband make you cum?”
“Yes-”
“Not five times, yet.” And through sheer will and the use of his incredible core strength, the trained spy stands up without breaking a sweat. “There’s one more to go…”
“Oh- let me.” Using whatever strength hasn’t been wrung out of you from the marathon of your highs - barely worrying about your refractory period - you’re surging upwards and reaching behind him. Those handcuffs you’d put him in were professional-grade and used on the job sometimes, nothing like the kinky toys that one might normally prefer.
Though this wasn’t initially supposed to be play at all.
And perhaps it’s the aphrodisiac that’s clouding your judgement- you know you can’t keep blaming it any longer when…But you’re soon looking around the room for the key that you’d dropped.
You think you had a spare in the bedside cabinet but you couldn’t be too sure- but then again, the original must have fallen somewhere on the carpet during the height of your nervous excitement—
“Looking for the key, mm?” Nanami’s deep croon jolts you out of your single-minded mission. And you somewhat jolt as you look up at his impressive height; his handsome face.
Your cunt had pooled slick right down to his clothes- the collar of it noticeably darker than the rest of the fabric, with his buttons shining as though polished a thousand times over. And his trousers were just as ruined.
Blond hair completely unruly now. Pupils blown-out through his glasses.
His lips were all reddened n’ puffy with the prolonged contact with the sweetest dessert he’s ever tasted: you. And he’s wearing your slathered layers of slick like a medal of honor, glistening proudly across his mouth and jawline—evidence of his desperation. He husks, “No need to worry yourself, my sweet wife.” Just then, he’s straining his forearms to pull at the handcuffs with brute force - one vein on his forehead popping, skin flushing an even deeper red.
You don’t think he’s going to do it - no one’s ever escaped you when you used those.
But suddenly there’s a screech of metal and a clink!
Before Nanami Kento’s rubbing at the slight bite of metal upon either of his wrists. His free wrists. His unrestrained wrists.
His unrestrained hunger as he then looms his chiselled body above yours- as you push yourself further and further up to the headboard, Nanami follows. He follows. He follows. He follows until your back hits the wooden panel connected to the wall, and those half-lidded eyes bore down upon you deliciously.
“Can we consummate our marriage now, my love?”
Your words could not be more sheerly needy- “Yes.”
And soon enough you’re helping Nanami out of his button-up, his vest, his trousers. Only his boxers stand in the way now and you’re just impatiently tugging them down—finding your jaw dropping at the sight of him.
Because Nanami was big as far as you’d felt.
But this was…what was that saying about it always being the quiet ones? Nanami’s length laid thick and throbbing between his milky legs; the tip of his shaft flushed an angry red, he’s leaking hot precum in lines down your inner thighs.
Dribbling out from the heavy volumes of his ballsack, and ending up coating his cherry tip in a cute white.
In the saturated air, his cock twitches upwards a few times. Makin’ stray beads gliiiiide along the vein-covered length of his shaft- down and doooooown to soak into his burnt golden curls at the very base. The entire image was just so sexy that you can’t help but let out a moan—
And Nanami chuckles before he turns his tender lovin’ eyes towards you. “Don’t worry. You’re next, darling.”
Your clothes are shed at an even faster rate.
Soon enough, it’s just him sandwichin’ his bulbous tip between your folds. Too big to immediately slide into your cunt, too covered in so many wads of your slick - slippery with your own sap - that he occasionally eases inside and makes you yelp at the stretch. “It just feels so- fuck, I just know s’gonna feel so good.” Your hands claw down Nanami’s broad back, “I need you, Kento. Badly.”
“How badly?” He crouches over you, lips centimeters from yours. “I need to make sure you’re not jus’ talking out of your pussy, my wife.”
“I’m not—” You promise. “I need you- fuck, I need you.”
“Need me to what, however?” Nanami cocks his head and almost meanly asks- he never knew he could make you sputter so much. It was just so fun watching your pretty mouth fall slightly apart as you registered his teasing—it almost made him want to spit between your lips.
He does.
And Nanami continues shoving his expanding erection just between your thighs, “Do you need me to take this pretty pussy like it’s our wedding night? Do you need me to m-make love to this pretty pussy like we’ve been married for years? What is it…?”
You’re mouthing something that his popped eardrums don’t hear.
Leaning in, “What’s that, darling?”
And so you’re repeating - just a little louder than before. “I n-need you to fuck me like you’re trying to prove you’re my husband.”
Just like before.
And that seems to flip a switch in the stern, stoic Nanami Kento.
Just a little.
Because the next time you’re blinking your teary eyes open- it’s to see the harrowed furrow between his brows as Nanami reels his hips back n’ positions his largely flared tip between your legs. Right where he needs to be.
And then he push-pushes inside—
“Fuck-” He spits- strong hand darting out to grip the headboard. You hear it splinter—“Fuck.”
“Please…” Looking up, you’re letting out a soft gasp at the way the muscles on his arm bulge and make themselves clear next to you. The sheer strength. The sheer pressure. The sheer streeeetch between your legs that you’re being fed inch by solid inch.
It’s almost too much - so much more than you ever thought possible to take in one go. Your throat feels clogged with saliva and Nanami’s sheer size as his cockhead thoroughly pierces your channel.
Smearin’ your gluey walls to either side of him, he enters you slowly yet mercilessly. More and more.
Your head falls back against the plush pillow directly beneath you-
“Now now- stay with me, darling.” Nanami’s strict sentence was less of a command and more of a sweet willing for you to open your eyes once more—to let him see those pretty, heart-shaped peripherals as he fucked you long and sweet.
He was burrowed just about halfway in at this point and starting to thrust.
It didn’t matter if he wasn’t completely drenched in your sweetest caverns yet, as long as your thighs were quivering with the utmost pleasure.
And Nanami collapses his rock-hard, chiselled front on top of your body - almost crushing you under the weight of him. Though you admit that the pressure was one so pleasurable that it sends zaps of electricity shooting to your toes—oh, did you mention that he’d kept your heels on, still?
And right now he was hooking his right set of fingers underneath your thigh, pressing your capped knees all the way up to your tits.
You’re mooooaning at the burning stretch of your hamstrings.
And he’s letting you ease into it for a few more moments before throwing both legs over each side of his shoulders. Wet with perspiration, you’re letting your heeled feet slide down his hard muscles before finally managing to loop them around your neck.
“This is a mating press- yeah.” He whispers, “D’you like this, my wife?”
Nodding fervently.
Leaning down to lick off the salty-sweet tears that were streaming down your cheeks, “Good girl.” The nickname slips between Nanami’s pussydrunken mouth before he can stop himself. And when he feels the huggin’ entrance of your cunt grow even wetter at the sound of it…oh.
The tips of his digits damn-near tremble with excitement as the blond-haired man plucks a pillow from one of the many you were laying against. Fluffing it up. Promptly placing it underneath the base of your spine, just where that curve was supposed to start, and raising your hips just a little.
That change of angle made the thump-thump-thumping tip of his cock just slightly press against the roof of your cunt, and you whine. “Sh-shit…”
“D’you know what that’s for, my love?”
“Huh?” You respond hazily, and he gestures towards the pillow. Just so gone- on his cock, on the aphrodisiac, on the primal instincts on the verge of screaming at him to shove even deeper. “Um…”
Nanami leans in and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, “That’s alright. I’ll teach you later, my love. For now…”
For now, what was that you’d begged for earlier?
Ah…
For now, he was going to fuck you like a loving husband fucks his beloved, beloved wife.
And he was going to prove it to this pussy that he was your husband—is. There were no two ways of going about it- Nanami’s leaning his toned torso backwards and suddenly rammin’ into you with all his strength.
He doesn’t stop until he’s sure he can hear the damn thwack! of his mazin’ tip reaching for your deepest depths. The sensation of your cervix was just so smoooooth and spongy, and it takes you longer than it should’ve to realize that the notorious man had just bottomed out on your tight, tight pussy.
You’re keening at the way your folds can do nothing but quiver n’ take and take. Gulping down those greedy inches that he was funneling over and over again into you—the scruff of his tawny happy trail scrapes your sensitive pussylips and you buck-
“And don’t think that you can run away.” He was amused.
For every millimeter that you were arching off of the mattress due to oversensitivity, Nanami was making up for it with yet another two rugged slams of his hips. He just loved that surprised expression upon your face when you found yourself being dragged right back, being manhandled, with a mere tug of his trained physique.
One hand on the right side of your waist.
One hand bracing his gluttonous base.
He furrows his brows and tightens his jaw as he haaaaauls you right back down- and soon enough, you’re finding that perhaps - perhaps - you’re shifting yourself away just to have him do it all over again.
And he indulges you, of course. Spearing between your glossed-up pussylips from tip to bottom end.
Fat inches that were making themselves at home.
Eventually, Nanami’s hungry gaze pins you down- first. Before the rest of his Herculean sculptured body chooses to rest further on top of you n’ glue your skin, your hips, to his own—preventing you from moving just a centimeter further than he wanted you to. Preventing you from shifting his determined cock around. He’s practically melding your bodies into one—he almost wishes he could.
Before Nanami had finally scoured ‘round your insides and located your g-spot. And he couldn’t have you moving around when his entire mission was to make you numb with pleasure, could he?
The heat between you two crackles in the air, and Nanami fucks you slow and shallow with his flared red tip. Rovering over that one spot-
“O-oh my god, oh my god, Kento—” Words slurring into one. Nearly indiscernible.
And through your tears, you’re making out Nanami’s lips pursing into something gentle. “Shhhhh…” The breeze of his scorching pants waft over you, dialing your own body temperature up into something insatiable. Aphrodisiac or…no, just the two of you. “You’ve got this, my love- fuck, you’ve got this.”
“I…” Eyes scrunching shut. “N-never felt anything like this before, honey.”
“You can take it.”
“I am- I am-”
The way his thrusts were probin’ into you was just indescribable- though Nanami Kento might have been a gentleman to everyone that ever encountered him - and yes, you suppose that even included the targets for his missions - you were briefed and trained to see him as the complete opposite.
Unlike most, you knew Nanami Kento as the agent…the danger…the target for your own mission.
But his cock was drilling into you over and over in sharp, rapid thrusts and you’re thinking that perhaps you hadn’t been so correct about him after all…
Calculated thrusts.
Nanami was making sure that you were wringing out the maximum amount of pleasure from each one of them. Not wasting time between smooching the door to your womb—thud-thud-thud. And between reeling his hips all the way back until your cunt was wet and gaping around where the circumference of his tip was the fattest. The neediest. Red-hot.
And then he’d be sliiiiiiding one of his most prominent veins down the middle along the most tender of your nerves. Kissing it.
Making white-hot bliss burst through your body as he’s managing to hit eeeevery single fucking orifice that made you swoon. Those large arms of his cage you safely, and Nanami already knows by now that you’re drunk on his hips. “Feels good, yeah?” He asks you-
And you almost have the heart to respond with something feisty—well, obviously. But the sincerity in his eyes makes you prattle out, “Feels s-soooo good. Didn’t even know that it could feel this good…”
He smiles proudly, “Yeah? Oh yeah—” Patting your sensitive clit with his abdomen, “And how’s the- haaaaaah, fuuuck, keep squeezing me like that- How’s the speed, my love?”
“P-perfect…” Cockdrunken. Bed creaking.
But Nanami merely nods and licks at the walloping amounts of saliva pouring from one end of your mouth and onto the silken covers of the pillows. “Mhmmmmm…and what else? How’s the angle?”
Your eyes damn-near bulge out of your skull. “The- angle—oh.” Just then, he’s adjusting his hips just the slightest few degrees so that his bludgeoning cock would hit a fresh new target tilted slightly upwards to the roof of your cut. And you’re practically yowling out, “That one- ngh, that’s the one.” Nails possessively claiming his back with countless scratches and indentations of your nails, “P-pleeeeease keep that one, Kento.”
“Like it that much, huh?” He hums to himself, “But of course, m’not gonna change it when s’my wife’s favorite.”
In a small thank-you, you’re craning your head up and attempting to kiss him.
He meets your lips halfway, but don’t think that that’s the only thing his vicious hips could do.
“Now now, don’t tap out…” Nanami grunts n’ shudders to himself—he has to gnaw down on the plushness of his bottom lip to compose himself at least somewhat. “And how about the feeling of my balls- hah- feel how biiiiiig and heavy they are, just for you?”
Struck and feeling his cadence accelerating, you can only nod and nod.
“Feel how rock-hard I am for you?”
Nodding.
“Feel the way I- fuck, the way m’only getting harder?”
Nodding.
“Feel the way your g-spot just throbs whenever I’m near?” His crowned and hungry tip pauses just to prove his point, and you’re dragging your nails down his biceps with a disappointed whine. A call to continue if there was any.
To which he does.
Harder than before- pap-pap-papping—! the front of his hips against yours.
“And feel the way m’pumping out so much- fuck- precum?” Just then - as if on fucking cue - you’re feeling a wet draaaaag of his pre being pushed deeper inside you. Pooling on layers on top of your cervix n’ swirling around every time you’re being moved, “Shit, m’gonna make a mess again. See what you do to me?”
“I do-”
Nanami scoffs, “You know I’d do anything to make you feel good, my love.” Boring those golden eyes into yours- yes, they looked damn golden in this lighting and in the hazy state of your mind. “Anything-”
One of his thick hands scrape down your front- they were the hands of someone that’s trained and worked and fought to get to where he is today. And you’re shivering at the slight callouses that massage you—
Your husband continues, “Never think that you’re- hah, any less loveable- desirable, because of anyone or anything before.” And despite the fact that you two were connected on levels, physical ones, that were the farthest they could go…it still feels the most intimate once he rests his clammy forehead onto yours and whispers. “Because I’m here- fuck.”
Toes curling atop his shoulders - doesn’t matter how much you’re thrashing them out of sheer pleasure at the stretch, he’s taking every bruise head-on. “Yes, yes, yes—mmm, yes…fuck, it shouldn’t feel this good- ngh, legally it shouldn’t feel this good.”
“When have we ever cared about the legal labels?”
Those pearly whites of his gnaw down on your lips n’ drag you into a kiss.
He utters, “Because your Kento’s here.”
Whimpering up at him when all the constant kissin’ at your g-spot almost gets too much to bear. So overstimulated. “A-and why do you say that, Kento?”
He could coo at the cute way you’re asking that question.
With your legs shakily squeezing around his neck, with your lips trembling and threatening to escape a sob. The way your cunt swallowed him up and dragged him to the very depths of your cunt was almost dizzying for him to feel—and he knows his balls were thwacking so hot and headily against the forefront of your cunt. He knows he’s close.
He knows the patterns of his zig-zagging veins were outlining themselves upon either side of your walls- he could feel it.
He knows that these were the pearly gates of heaven themselves. Opened right with your legs.
And Nanami has to force himself to not fucking throw his head back with a thunderous groan—more to hear your sweet, sweet noises than anything. And instead, he nuzzles his sweaty face into the crook of your neck and lets out looooow, trundling whispers. “You’re s-seriously asking me that, my love? Don’t mock me-”
“I’m not-”
“Because the answer should be obvious.” And this is the first and only time that the Nanami Kento would interrupt you on any matter. “S’because I’m fucking made for you, aren’t I?”
And with that being said, it seems his cadence is only growing faster. Harder. Hittin’ your lower half at what, to you, almost feels like the speed of light - his blushin’ tip only grows bigger and concrete-hard as he keeps jutting into the crevices of your cervix.
Running the lines of his veiny shaft down your channel all the while—
Soon enough: your pulsing clit finds home between Nanami’s thumb and index finger.
On his left hand.
Which meant the stark frigidness of his wedding ring was making your body thrust itself into the throes of pleasure - not quite cumming, though considering just how overstimulated you were, you wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up shattering all over him without any warning. Instead, you’re finding your mouth babbling away whatever stupid concoction of words was entering your mind- “A-and how can you say that-”
“That’s because I’m your husband.” He kisses your forehead softly once more, “Forget all those other boys and whoever that came- hah, before me, darling. They’ve never yearned—ached, prayed for this pussy like I have…”
A disbelieving laugh bubbles up at your throat, “Y-yearned—? K-Kento, you can’t be serious.”
His dazed eyes widen, mouth stupidly agape. “Dead fucking serious.”
What’s the word to describe him…enamored? In…love? Pussy-whipped? But in all the best ways.
And he himself didn’t sound like he could compute the words that were falling from his mouth. Escaping, more like. He tut-tuts, “My wife…I fear I don’t even- haaaah, know who I am without this pussy. She’s all I’ve been thinking about these past few days. She’s all I’ve been…hungry for. She’s all I’ve been- fuck, needing to make myself run to the b-bathroom and jerk myself off until I see stars—”
“S-stars-” Repeating breathlessly to yourself. Such words from him of all people…especially when it pertained to you…you just couldn’t believe it.
“Making you feel good as your husband is my only goal, my love.” And he means it so earnestly- from anyone else you would have scoffed and rolled your eyes. But Nanami’s staring into your widely-blown peripherals as though he was exposing every shred and fissure in his soul.
He rolls his thumb over the nub of your clit.
Your voicebox raggedly wrenches out, “All this time you’ve…”
And fuck- he’s so far gone that he can’t hold back the fucking lewd grin as he admits—
“All this time-” Planting one chaste peck on your forehead while he fucks you, “-your husband has been-” Then another one on your right cheek, “-a damn pervert waiting for you to catch him.” In more ways than one. And then a final one on your left cheek.
He pulls away and admires you.
“And how does that make you feel, my wife?”
“It m-makes me feel…” Spit drivels from the leaky orifice of your mouth along with a few whining pleas here and there. And before Nanami’s lust-hazed brain can begin to compute it, you’re reaching outwards and grabbing ahold of yet another fistful of his hair.
Dragging him towards you with a persistent few tugs.
Surprise and arousal flash across his face and steep into his already-agonized expression once you pull him close enough.
You enunciate up at him, “It makes me feel like m’gonna cum, soon…” Eyes flapping shut, chest arching up into his firmly-toned one. You hiccup, “-my husband.”
His hips stutter sloppily.
But you weren’t done just yet—“A-and I know you’re close, too.” Gaze flickering down to the briefest flash of his bulbous, red tip as he pulls out- only to be shoved between your pussylips once more. Again and again. “I want you to not hold back, Kento. No matter how hard it is- ngh, don’t hold back on me.”
He repeats, breathlessly. “Don’t hold back…don’t…” Nodding and nodding.
And then you’re watching the line of his vision sharply stray to something above your head-
To the discarded fabric of his favorite tie.
And do you know how many times spies have been trained to get out of and create restraints? You don’t think it takes Nanami even two heartbeats to swipe the tie somewhere from the headboard and reach behind you to loop around your wrists.
Pinning them together.
Tying them blindly.
Tugging you to him with a flex of his muscles.
You’re being manhandled like so through a few slammin’ stripes down on the innermost layer of your pussy- he seemed to be reaching even deeper with this slight change in position.
“Please-” You can’t catch your breath fast enough—and the sheer sensation of Nanami throwin’ you around like a ragdoll whilst he fucked you like an absolute gentleman was enough to make you stutter out in just a few more moments- “P-please…Kento, m’gonna cum-”
Smack! The skin of his pelvis practically glues against yours. “Cum on your husband’s cock, my dear.”
And with the most sinful, squelching sound of your thighs tightening around his waist- you’re cumming. The fifth time tonight; it sears through every vessel in your body stronger and faster than you remember any previous orgasm being.
A buzzing electricity- turned zapping.
Curdling at the pit of your stomach and making you arch up into Nanami as many times as your limbs could weakly carry you…
Your heels claw ravaged marks down his shoulders, “C-cumming-” Babbling out as stars of pleasure formulate and burst behind your eyes, “Kento—fuck. Fuck, Kento, it feels so good—”
“Fuck.” He grunts himself.
Entire body shaking as the wave of euphoria roars over you.
Flashing and overstimulated.
Then you’re peering up at him with tear-filled eyes, “Kento, I want you to cum, too-”
And that’s when it hits him.
Almost as if his body had been waiting for permission from you this entire time, as though he’d react to you above anything or anyone else. Orders. Though they were ones that his brain would gladly follow- Nanami throws his head back just a little and stammers his hips.
The round curve of his tip plasterin’ against your sweet, spongy cervix and holding there for a few seconds—before he, too, ends up giving into his pleasure.
Making you cum five times and this was the first time he’s cumming inside.
Brows knitting, his strong jaw drops ever-so-slightly ajar as he feels a sensation like never before. No matter how much of his creamy white cum he’s emptying out- your cushy walls were sucking him up for more, more, more…“Sh-shit—you don’t know what you do to me.” And with that said, he’s raising his knee up and setting it where the pillow underneath your hips was, “I think you a-already know what this pillow is for, hm?”
Nodding, “I do I do-” You could’ve guessed either way.
Especially by the way the spurs of his cum were barreling inside- being fucked deep inside. Deep inside. And because of the positioning of your hips, no matter how much you jostle or buck, his hot wads remain webbin’ up every orifice inside.
Glued to your cervix like adhesive.
The pillow only helped if you wanted to…expand the family.
Another toe-curling burst of pleasure runs through him at the mere thought of it, and Nanami turns his head to kiss the pretty side of your calf. Legs still limply wrapped around his head.
He hums, “And does this go against your mission, my assassin?”
You’re shaking your head.
Quite frankly, the only other thing you can think to do is to tug him closer with your lower half.
Nanami’s shaft was thick and throbbing—burnished red at the top and polished with so many layers of cum. Hot puddles of it. He was making sure not to waste a single - not even a single - drop of it as he emptied out inside, though the sheer force of his thrusts did end up frothing some of his powdery-white cum between your trembling legs. So full that you were leaking from your hole.
He spits down on your stuffed pussy, fingers twiddling on your clit. “Then how about trying to kill me by milking me dry next?”
His heavy balls clench.
Your jaw drops.
And it really wasn’t just the aphrodisiac.
You are the one that won’t be making it out of this alive.
.
.
.
“—no…no, it’s not for a lack of resources. No- no one’s threatening me.” Speaking sharply into the receiver of the payphone, the crackle of your elders echoes in your ears. You’re sure that you’re sending the Garden headquarters into an uproar by this point—you’re sure that everyone’s gotten the word.
The Phantom is quitting her line of work.
And though you suppose it wasn’t necessarily against policy to finally quit being an assassin, you just don’t think anyone would have bet that you’d be the next.
And in the booth next to you was Nanami Kento, on the phone with his own higher-ups.
You’re eyeing the handsome man through the translucent screen of plastic in-between, and he’s catching your eyes and shooting you a reassuring smile. He seemed to be having a much easier time with whoever was on his end, meanwhile you…Scoffing at the next accusation they throw out, “No, I’m not drugged or coerced or going to trade secrets with anyone-”
Another higher-up bellows something.
“Look, I’m going to post you my resignation letter and that is that. I just wanted to tell you all personally- think of it as my last duty to you.” And with a sigh you’re beginning to push away from the receiver, “Don’t contact me again, kindly. Or you can—send assassins after me for all you care, we both know how that’s going to go down.”
The phone gets sternly put back in its place.
And you know that they won’t try to mess with you.
You know that.
They didn’t call you The Phantom for nothing - your presence still haunted the Garden when you weren’t there. As you’re making your way out of the booth, you’re realizing that your husband had wrapped up his call and was waiting for you outside.
Hands in his coat pockets. Fingers inching automatically towards yours once you’re outside.
He’d been nagging at you on getting a warmer covering layer recently, and Nanami doesn’t hesitate to shrug off his own jacket and insist upon you wearing it. Though he wasn’t a very loud man, his affection was practically palpable.
And you’re almost feeling shy walking down the street in what was obviously his coat, whilst he stuffed your joined hands into the pocket of your coat - one that he was now wearing.
Eventually, you ask. “I assume your call went well, Kento?”
He sighs something half-fond, “Yeah…” And though it was true that both of you had been wanting out from these careers for some time now, it was still a wistful affair.
It was just last week that Nanami had filed in his report on the Zenin family; revealing some corrupt ties and nonsensical numbers in their business that’d been blown across every news station, magazine, and forum you could think of in the past few days. Zenin Naobito had been arrested, of course, transferring the title of heir to none other than Fushiguro Megumi, your son’s best friend. And though the two of you weren’t working for your organizations anymore, you’d both promised to keep a firm eye on the boy to make sure that he wasn’t being pressured or made to live older than his age anytime soon.
You’re squeezing Nanami’s hand softly, and he looks at you with a smile. Continuing where he’d left off, “They were hesitant, but I think they understood. I think they saw - even before I did - that this was a long time coming.”
“They let you go that easily?”
“Yeah.” He closes his eyes and exhales deeply, “I’m free.”
And you’re doing the same.
You’re both free.
Once you’re opening your eyes, it’s to look at the other side of Shibuya Crossing - where Itadori and his two familiar best friends were standing and waving at the two of you. Furiously. They laughed and bickered about who was waving the hardest. “So romantic—!” You think you hear Kugisaki squeal even from here.
You chuckle as you wait for the light to turn green.
Looking up at the blue, blue sky. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
A/N. No idea how this got so long erm- also Happy Avurudu to anyone that celebrates!!
it’s ok if you’re scared. or tired. or unsure. or one million billion other complicated emotions at once. but i’ve decided things are going to be ok anyway. and i will hold that belief close to my heart no matter how scared or tired or lonely or depressed or one million billion other things i am. i will hold onto that. and if you’re scared, you can hold onto me. we can carry each other through
His fingers lace together behind your neck, thumbs finding sanctuary beneath your jaw. He’s up on his haunches now, the thick of him swallowed by the sweltering clench of your body, and you can’t tell where you end and he begins.
The new position forces your knees towards your chest, the crooks of them hooked onto his shoulders. It presses him deeper, the swollen crest of him meeting your cervix. He’s flushed. Dewy with sweat beneath the dwindling breath of the hearth fire, hair pasted to his forehead, eyes burning like the centuries-old aftermath of a supernova.
“Hold onto me,” he pants, voice thick and abrasive from his earlier ministrations. It’s more a warning than a request, and when he shifts his hips the slightest bit, you pulse around him, drawing the prettiest little noise from gritted teeth.
“Baby, hold on,” he warns again, softer, entranced by the lazy stir of your eyes. How your mouth hangs open with the effort of breathing, that pretty, blissed-out halo hanging over your inflamed features.
You nod drunkenly, wrists crossing behind his neck, drawing him closer until he’s nearly curled over you. Impossibly deeper as you both watch the sticky union of your bodies. He draws back the slightest bit, the noise of it obscene, luring twin moans from your mouths.
When he pistons forward, it punches the air from your lungs. Shoves you further up the bed, your nails raking down his shoulders, head lolling back against the pillows. He paints a maddening rhythm with his hips thereafter, thrusting into you like he wants to burn himself into your psyche, ruining the shape of you for anyone else who’d dare try to claim you as he did.
Your vision blurs around its corners, lashes dewing with tears, every clop of his hips meeting yours knocking strangled, animalistic sounds from your throat. His breath fractures on a groan that prickles low in your stomach, the sight of his carefully constructed composure eroding above you, enough to make your thighs shake on his shoulders.
“So good,” he croaks, rutting into you like it’s never enough. “Don’t let go. Fuck, please don’t let go.”
You never could, letting him fuck you through it until he’s fully sated. Until he spills milky white into the heat of you, heart unspooling into your hands, body dropping lax and boneless against yours.
Alchemised is just Helena and Kaine desperately trying to die for the other while each saying "bitch could you just love me enough to live for me instead??"
Sighhh, fucking Sylus until he finally relents control and just becomes a whiny, needy little thing that begs for you to let him cum and let him taste you and kiss you and promising to be good
Holding his flushed face in your hands as you ride him. His hands are trembling at your waist, eyes heavily lidded from pleasure. His cum is already dripping down your thighs, down onto his own lap, but he still promises he can give one more, just one more
"Are you a good boy?" you coo, squeezing his cheeks like he's this little thing in your hands. This toy to play with
He groans low in his throat, nodding mindlessly. "Yes," he breathes. "Yes, I'm a good boy."
"Who's good boy?"
"Yours. F-Fuck, yours, I'm yours. Your good boy."
You brush his hair back from his forehead, glistening with sweat. He leans into your touch. Craves it. Seeks it out. Lost in everything you deign to give him
"What does my good boy want?"
He's close. You can tell in the way his face scrunches up. The way his fingers squeeze into your soft flesh. He's trying so hard to hold it back. So hard to be such a good boy. "Your tits. Wanna bury my face between them, hng, and taste you, beloved. Please."
And how can you say no to such a polite request? You guide his face to your chest and he moans his gratitude as he sucks your nipple into his mouth. His tongue is burning hot as he circles it, flicks it, scrapes his teeth against it. He pulls away with a wet pop and leaves open mouth kisses in the valley as he crosses to the other side, giving it the same attention. His cheeks hollow as he suckles your tit into his mouth. Hot breaths fan from his nose against your skin. He licks up your sweat. The remnants of his spit. Devours you, pouring all his attention into cherishing you to distract himself from the burning pressure inside of him
"Does my baby need to cum?" you purr
He nods with a shiver, trailing his mouth along the underside of your breast, staring up at you with glossy red eyes. He murmurs unintelligible pleas, begging to cum inside of you again, to overflow your womb with his seed
You pull him from your chest. A gossamer thread of spit connects him to your chest, his tongue peeking out of his open mouth, slick and pretty. You grab his jaw. Guide him to your face. "Cum, pretty boy," you whisper just as you suck his tongue into your mouth, claiming his last threads of sanity for yourself
He moans ragged and broken into the kiss. Bucks his hips up as his cock twitches, notched right up to your cervix as he unloads heavy ropes of cum deep into you. It knocks the breath out of you it's so intense. Shocks your own orgasm into squeezing tight around his dick, milking him dry as you drench his lap, soaking his silver pubes and the line of his happy trail
You're both panting when you pull away. He drops his head to your shoulder, trembling as he holds you close, as he tries to come down from his high. You wrap your arms around his neck. One hand strokes his damp hair back, as the other leaves light scratches over his back. He sighs at the sensation, smoothing his own palm over your back to press you closer to his chest
"Good?" you murmur softly against his neck, checking in on him
He nods with a deep hum. "Good," he breathes, scratchy and rough. He kisses your shoulder, your collarbone, your throat, and sighs. "Very good."
Dante Sparda with Violet Evergarden! reader scenario ⚔️
warnings: canon divergence, fem!reader, slow burn friends to lovers, references to DMC manga and Violet Evergarden light novels, violence, assault, mention of sex workers, timeline is estimated to be in the 1990s as depicted in the Netflix show, minors dni.
Hello and welcome to this multi-part project, cowritten with the incredibly talented @saltyfruitbat~! We came up with the idea chatting on the messaging system here, exchanging concepts and possible headcanons for these two characters :3 The weapon that is referenced here was inspired by Kikoru Shinomiya’s weapon from the anime, Kaiju No.8~!
Comment with a 🌻 if you would like to see something else happen with Dante and Violet Evergarden!reader in another fic, or ✒️ and any ideas you have in mind~.
divider by @fairytopea
Enzo had picked with Dante up from the streets when he had been a kid, claiming he had seen potential in the white-haired teen bounding between abandoned buildings and lived on a steady of takeout and cheap kegs. He still does, but he could now afford the good stuff with the money he was making as a demon hunter. He just wasn’t expecting the foul-mouthed Italian to do it again; picking up another stray, raising them, and then kick them out of his place when they were ready to be on their own.
Dante had definitely not expected it to be you, an emotionally detached ex-soldier who was hundreds of miles away from your homeland with only a briefcase and an army uniform to define who you were in New York’s alleys. You were definitely a looker, pleasing to the eyes and young enough to pass for an adult. Enzo claimed that’s why the sonofabitch Armando tried to scout you to work for him on the streets as ‘one of his finest girls’. If Enzo hadn’t intervened, saying you were the hunter he’d been waiting for, Armando would have dragged you into an alley and used you until you were dead. So yeah, you’re welcome, sweetheart.
You were fourteen when the two of you officially met. He had just turned fifteen and recently moved into his new place, the building that would inevitably serve as HQ for his demon-hunting business.
Dante’s first impression of you? You acted like a puppy, always trailing behind Enzo and obeying his every command without a second thought, but then you get all pouty when that fatass left you all alone. You referred to yourself as a trained dog. Maybe that’s how he became curious about you in the first place, interested in a girl close to his age instead of casually flirting with the strippers at the club. At least that’s what he kept telling himself. No one needed to know the truth; how he never thought there would be someone else in this crazy, messed-up world who was just as lonely as he was.
Your first impression of Dante? If you were the darkness in the world, then he would be the light. What else could you say about someone who has seen the horrors beyond anyone’s comprehension? How can he still smile, get angry, feel tired, laugh at incomprehensible jokes when you still struggled to express your own emotions, let alone understand others? What was it like to do what you wanted without the fear of repercussions from higher-ranked officers, complete strangers who recoil at the slight of your prosthetics once the gloves came off?
Despite intending to let you stay with him for a week until you got your own place, Enzo didn’t have the heart to kick you out in the end. Instead, he asked for rent on the first of each month, emphasizing that you followed his house-rules down to the letter and definitely do not bring any boys home when he wasn’t around. You followed the rules like a trained dog. Sometimes you took them and the words he or Dante said too literally.
It didn’t take him too long to figure out that you weren’t an unfeeling human who got the job done without a complaint and showed no mercy or cared only about the payment. You were just inexperienced in understanding human emotions after being treated like a tool of war for so long, and reading between the lines in conversations wasn’t something you were used to. The first word you learned? Kill. The second? Hunt.
Only Major Gilbert Bougainvillea had seen you as more than a weapon. He saw you as a person, someone whom he wanted to live freely and away from the military, even when his older brother had been the one to give you to him as a gift. A loyal dog to protect a little brother on the blood-soaked battlefield until its dying breath.
His older brother had blamed you for Gilbert’s death in the ambush that ended the war, and shipped you to America as punishment for your incompetence as a soldier after he graciously replaced the limbs you had lost with shiny, skeletal prosthetics. You had been wandering around for a long time, and then Enzo found you. That’s your story. Nothing grand, nothing romantic or spectacular. Someone cast you aside, then someone else saw your potential, and now you are a demon hunter like Dante.
Knowing how you can talk about war, violence, and being possibly murdered by a pimp in an alleyway so casually used to scare the shit out of Dante. Now? He and Enzo had gotten used to it after four years.
While he advertised himself as a chaotic, handsome and reliable hunter who got the job done as he worked, you were the complete opposite out on the streets. Graceful, committed, and calculated each step. Despite your tenacity and commitment to the job, it didn’t lead to frequent hiring like him or the other hunters in the business. Something about the image of seeing a young woman with a giant battle axe strapped to her back instead of carrying pistols scaring off the clients? Weird, but it would explain why Enzo lets you live in a shoebox apartment in the Bronx rent-free after he bought the unit for dirt cheap with the money from a big job two years ago.
As happy as he is to be the breadwinner, Dante admired your work ethic. Few people would actually try to be a better person unless there was something in it for them.
You were constantly finding new ways to improve your empathy, whether finding them in books, people-watching, or seeing it on those education shows on the TV like Sesame Street, Pappyland, and Reading Rainbow. If you weren’t at Freddy’s Diner or with Enzo at the club, you would sit on the living room floor at your place, transfixed on the lessons being taught and writing everything down in a memo pad until you were called away for a job.
Dante thought it was cute seeing your eyes light up whenever you learned something new. That trip to the supermarket to make your first PBJ sandwich because you wanted to learn how to make it? You were totally spellbound by the sheer number of jelly flavors stocked on the shelves next to the peanut butter. Trying his triple decker strawberry sundae and those hamburger-fry combo meals from the drive-thru? Definitely have added to the growing list of favorite foods, or one of them because nothing could beat the classic pepperoni pizza from Luigi’s Place.
Playing Dance Dance Revolution is one of Dante’s favorite pastimes when there aren’t any more demons to kill for the night. He thought maybe you would like it too, so that’s why he pulled the dusty mat meant for a second player out from the under the couch and hooked it up on the TV. He did one round by himself, just to show you how it’s done. But when you stepped onto the mat, and he switched it to two players? You got an SS score, and he got a D.
He had seen your ability to learn quickly on your feet during jobs; adjusting to the surroundings, how the demons attacked, that was nothing new. He was about to call you out for cheating until another round started up, and he saw your smile bounce off the light on the TV, moving your body to the music and eyes glowing with excitement. Whoa. And here he thought your nose would scrunch up in annoyance whenever you do something you don’t like or didn’t understand right away. No offense, but you were not the most patient person with the latest and greatest tech. The payphone is about as far as you could handle without breaking it from the strength of your prosthetics.
So instead of demanding a rematch for the sake of his pride as a devilishly handsome hunter, he sat on the arm of the couch and watched you play, smiling a little to himself. He considered stocking up on the stuff to make PBJ sandwiches. After all, those are the things that make you happy, right?
He still tries to pull you into playing a few pranks, and has successfully gotten you to take part in a few scenarios that have gotten the two of you in trouble with the cops more than once.
Time passed, and then Enzo finally found a job for him and Violet. The payment? Four million bucks.
The job itself hadn’t been nothing important, at least to Dante: find a missing kid named Alice and bring her back to her parents. No one could pay him to do to babysit a kid, but the client was more than willing to double the reward money if Dante accepted it as they wanted only him to do it. You were more than willing to the job by yourself. After a few minutes of silence on the rotary phone, Enzo was able to persuade the client to have you and Dante do the job. If he didn’t put in the labor, then there won’t be a payment for either of you.
Fucking asshole.
As much as Dante hated to admit it, he needed that cash as much you did. The repairs and bimonthly upgrades to your prosthetics weren’t cheap.
So he accepted the job, planning on starting it tomorrow. You would have gotten left to do preliminary investigation on her last known whereabouts started as soon as you got off of the phone with Enzo, but being the irresistible dreamboat that he is, Dante persuaded that you would have better luck when it’s daylight outside instead of waking people up and asking questions even though you lived in a city that never sleeps.
So you went grocery shopping instead, seeing that his fridge was empty of the essentials for a night-in at his place. He trusted you to handle yourself on the streets just as you trusted him to make sure nothing happened to Gladiator, your weapon. Grabbing some frozen pizza and Coca-Cola shouldn’t have taken that long to grab, unless you picked up a few more things.
But when the minutes melted into almost two hours, Dante knew something was wrong and headed out to find you. Slinking through the back alleys of New York and retracing the shortcuts you could have taken to the store, but ended up saving a lady from being eaten by demons? A typical Tuesday night for him, minus getting smacked in the face with a purse before the demon baby and the clueless human mother ran off. He would have chased after them, but finding you was a bigger priority. He knew Enzo would freak out if he got wind of your disappearing act.
When he got to the store, he ran into a dead end; none of the staff had seen you since your last visit on about a week ago, and there was no footage of you on the CCTV cameras entering or leaving either.
So where the hell were you? Had you gone in search of Alice without telling him and got lost in Wonderland, or was there something big going on in New York that he hadn’t heard about yet? Whatever it is...he just hoped you were okay.
Guess he needs to talk to Enzo about the finer details for that four million gig, after all.
Dante has worked hard today. Now it’s your turn~.
Comment with ⚔️ if you would like to more your devilishly handsome demon hunter’s POV in the next chapter or ⛪️ if you are curious to see how Violet Evergarden! reader will interact with a certain secret organization sworn to protect the world from demons in the name of the Lord~.
If you would like to be added to the taglist for this project, I will leave the link to it here.
Soft Yandere! Self-Aware! Sylus with Inexperienced! Player headcanons [part two]
warnings: self-aware! au, non-mc!reader, possessive behavior, jealousy, references to sylus' myth, fem!reader, aged-up!reader (early to late twenties), cyberstalking.
Hey guys and welcome back to the second part of the Self-Aware! AU series starring the one and only leader of Onychinus~!
It has been a wild ride coming up with ideas and writing rough drafts for this man, but I couldn't have achieved it without @jinwoosbabyboo. My friend, this chapter is dedicated to you. The late-night conversations of lore and brainstorming fic concepts between long shifts have and always will be the highlight of my week :3
Do you all have a favorite lads x non-mc!reader fic? I've been reading quite of a few on here, and the angst in them is heavy and exquisite~. After all, the best romances lie in tragedy, do they not?
Comment with 🐉 if you would like to see part three in this series or 🧁 if you would like to see more fluff content.
Here is part one for those who haven’t read it yet~.
divider by @omi-resources
Sylus knows that there are risks to getting attached to anyone so long as he is in charge of Onychinus. People have betrayed him countless times in the past, and the number of competitors seeking his downfall in this no-man’s-land continues to rise each year. In the back of his mind, he thought it was better this way; to walk alone on the path to power and wait for his sorceress to come back to him. She did, eventually, but with no recollection of their shared past, and she despised him so much that they could not resonate with their Evols. People knew and respected her as Miss Hunter in this lifetime.
He had every intention of seducing her, to unlock the memories and rekindle their love once more until you came into the picture. His history with Miss Hunter spanned across eons, the galaxies, everything he had done to see her once again, the sacrifices he made…it all had been in vain. He hadn’t been the only one who remembered the past; there were three others, desperate to reclaim their prize and relive the past they shared with Miss Hunter.
But Sylus was not like them. He would not allow them to undo all the hard work he has put into his empire, and the N109 Zone. That’s why he needs to keep Miss Hunter around, even if she hates him for who he is, what he stands for. She was still useful to him.
Miss Hunter possessed exceptional fighting skills and made a lovely companion to show off at the auction house, but nothing more than that. If there is one trait he possesses that could even be remotely qualified as something positive, it is being wholeheartedly devoted to you.
Sylus is rarely left to his own devices; to think and breathe with all the work he does on a daily basis. When he is alone, he is in either his office or in his bedroom. Since he has synchronized the time in this world with yours, he knows when it’s a good time to talk to you, and to let you rest. The conversations he has with you are….well, they felt genuine. Like he wasn’t talking to a machine that is programmed to reply to his words in a way that satisfies him.
Sylus would always inquire about your day, shake at his head in exasperation and adoration, or roll his eyes, amongst emotions he doesn’t dare let anyone else in the N109 Zone see. Do you want to cook something easy but worried about making a big mess? He’s already sent you a list of suggestions after you tell him what was in your fridge and pantry. Feeling stiff? He already sent suggestions to ease your pain and home exercise videos to your phone, including his personal recommendations.
He would definitely inquire if you read a book or listen to it on your phone. He may or may not have downloaded something similar and listens to it before he turns in for the night.
Despite being an incredibly busy man with a schedule booked out for months and being in charge of Miss Hunter’s wellbeing, Sylus will always make time for you. Suddenly contacting him through the app after a rough day when he’s in a meeting or dealing with idiots who are stupid enough to do business in his territory? He will either reschedule or quickly finish it so that he can make sure you’re okay.
Although he had been very careful to hide your interactions with him from everyone, Miss Hunter had discovered the existence of his little gem all on her own. How did she find out? Well, perhaps he underestimated her resourcefulness, or didn’t dare to think she would be so foolish as to sneak into his room again when he punished her for it last time. And that was a warning.
So, imagine his surprise when he walked out of the shower in a towel, and saw his phone being held tightly in Miss Hunter’s trembling hands, her eyes wide and face turning to a shade of soured milk before she saw him.
“Who is this?” She whispered, anger and astonishment lacing in her honeyed voice. The phone’s screen was completely dark thanks to its privacy film, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out who she meant. Miss Hunter had seen you. Seen your world from the other side and is no doubt in shock that there was someone else in his life besides her. How touching.
“It isn’t polite to go through someone’s belongings like that, Miss Hunter. People will think you’re rude.”
“Shut up!” She hissed. “You didn’t answer my question!” She held up his phone, almost shoving the image of you sitting on the couch in his face. “Who is she? Why does she look like me? Is she the reason you’ve been acting so strange lately?! What could Onychinus want with a civilian?!”
Sylus wasn’t in the mood to tell stories, let alone to a rude guest after he had so graciously offered the best hospitality in the N109 Zone. So he activated Evol and gently shoved Miss Hunter out of the room and into the hallway, the dark-red wisps morphing into thicker strands and acting as a satisfactory barrier between them.
“That isn’t your concern, Miss Hunter. If I were you, I would be more concerned with yourself. After all, you have to report back to the Association about the Aether Core incident to them. If you make it out of here alive, that is.”
“You, you bastard!”
“Tell me something I don’t know, my dear.” He answered drolly before he slammed the door in her face, turning the lock to the left with a click. It took a considerable amount of willpower to ignore the sound of delicate wrists banging against the door, but he didn’t become the most powerful man in the N109 Zone by being brash or an ill-tempered host.
Sylus values control and luxury above all else. He will not allow Miss Hunter to interfere with his plans. Everything was almost ready. He placed the twins in charge of renovating the base’s west wing, airing out the rooms and filling them with furniture and items he knows you will love when you come here. Even with limited information and a purpose only he understands, Philip is making remarkable progress on the project he assigned to the Odd Workshop owner.
Dragons are protective of their treasures, and Sylus will do everything in his power to keep you safe, even if it means reuniting with you in this world will take a little longer than he would have liked. For now, he is content with watching the premiere of a murder-mystery series you had been waiting for months to come out on Netflix, which he assumed is a streaming app in your world.
“Hey there, sweetie. Sorry I’m late. How much did I miss?”
He’s grinning like a fool when he sees you jump at the sound of his voice. Did you really think he would miss out on spending time with you before bed? Silly kitten.
“Oh, hey Sylus.” You typed through the app, a tired smile stretching across your face. “And no worries, it’s all good. This isn’t a regular whodunnit crime show. We actually see who the killer is and why they killed the victim, but it’s up to the detective to figure it out. Do you want spoilers?”
“I’d rather avoid being spoiled, but the writing in these shows makes it obvious who the killer is. No offense, kitten.” He said as he got himself comfortable on the bed.
You shrugged. “None taken. This genre can be a hit-or-miss because of said writing. I just want to see if this was worth all the hype.”
Sylus chuckled. “Fair enough. Did you have a good day at work?”
He stayed up with you for a few hours, idly chatting between commercials and lamenting some predictable twists before you bade him goodnight. He wished you pleasant dreams in kind before he turned in for the night himself. Although he prided himself on being a patient man, as it was a requirement for his line of his work, Sylus couldn’t wait for the day when he would wake up to see you curled up in his bed, wrapped in his sheets and snuggled in his arms, protected and loved like the precious gem you are.
The following day he remained glued to his pin-cushioned armchair — his day filled with non-stop meetings and phone calls until almost seven in the evening. He had to reroute a few deliveries so that he could draw out the punks who would be so bold as to steal goods from him.
When he finally left his office, the leader of Onychinus immediately noticed how quiet it was in the base. Ever since Miss Hunter had been under his care, it’s been…a little livelier around the base, so to speak. Even if she had left his base to return to Linkon City, there was no way she would simply abandon her mission to keep a close eye on him unless the Association needed her for another task.
The twins haven’t seen her since breakfast, saying she left without a word and told them not to follow her. Their suspicions aligned with Sylus’ in regard to her odd behavior, but they assumed she went back to civilization to see one of her boy-toys. Annoyed at the realization that he had to play the babysitter role yet again for his esteemed guest, Sylus began his search for Miss Hunter.
She wasn’t sulking in the hallways, the armory, the foyer, the training room, not even in the library. It was strange, Miss Hunter tended to either mope around or give him an attitude and he could hear it throughout Mephisto. But the crow remained silent on his shoulder. Truly, she knows how to give him a headache without even trying. So, he did what he does best besides killing people; finding them. Since his ‘guest’ is a Hunter he knows they are all required to wear a Hunter’s Watch. It would be easy to track her location through Mephisto’s software programming.
Sylus activated the signal tracker through his phone, tapping his index finger against the side as a tiny little dot pinged on the map. Pinpointed outside the N109 Zone — Downtown Linkon City, right on the apartment building where Miss Hunter lived. So she was home — interesting. Sending Mephisto to do this recon operation had been an excellent decision; the little crow was built to be untraceable, programmed for stealth purposes and imbedded with enough firewalls to give the Association a run for their money.
He watched intently through Mephisto’s eyes as the image on his phone rocked for a moment, then steadied as the crow settled on a gnarled tree branch looking through the lanai of Apartment 1221. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first glance; empty living room, an empty kitchen with the lights haphazardly left on. He was about to call Mephisto back to the base when his crow’s audio picked up on a voice. Yours.
“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying.” You said in exasperation. “Whatever is going on between you and Sylus? That’s your business. And to be honest, my head still hurts after Apparating into your place like Professor Dumbledore did in the Harry Potter movies. I don’t know how I even got here except I upgraded an app on my phone, and then there was a bright light. Now? I’m tied to a chair after you put me in an arm lock. You’ve been asking me the same question for the past hour. There’s nothing else I can tell you that you don’t already know. I won’t say anything to the authorities, so please.” Sylus’ spine went rigid as he heard your voice quiver slightly with a tinge of fear. “Please just let me go.”
You were here. His treasure was here in this world, and this is how Miss Hunter repays his kindness after being such a gracious host in the N109 Zone? Unacceptable.
Some random posts of you and your boyfriend gojo. Inspired by @jinwoosbabyboo
@Y/n_offical34
Location - a Pottery studio.
♥️ liked by gojosbig_dick shokoshokoshokopookie and 24k others
Y/n_offical34 : Someone just has to look good and do nothing else.
Tagged - @ _sixeeyesupnext_
Comments
_sixeyesupnext_ Heeey! What’s wrong with a man admirin’ his girl’s masterpiece, huh?
⎿ replying to _sixeyesupnext_ shoko_leiri : Just say you’ve got skill issues and move on.
⎿ replying to _sixeyesupnext_ Yn_offical34 : admiring? You broke half of my works ☹️
_gojosbigdick_ girl please inform us if you ever break up 😩
⎿ replying to _gojosbigdick_ _iblmesathis_ : the username is crazyy
⎿ replying to _gojosbigdick_ _uthaimesfeet_ : I m scared of gojo's fanbase.
@ _sixeyesupnext_
Location : gojos house
♥️ liked by y/n_offical34 , uthaime_lori and 50k others.
_Sixeyesupnext_ : she refused 26 times , but finally gave in 😎
Tagged :@ y/n_offical34
Comments
Suguruthatswho_ Satoru did the matching outfit thing with me first, y’know.
⎿ Replying to suguruthatswho_ _sixeyesupnext_ : suguru,please delete this comment 😭
⎿ replying to suguruthatswho_ yn_offical34 : When you're trying to feel special, but then it hits youyou're just the third wheel in your own relationship 💔
Uthaime_lori : I still can't believe Satoru pulled y/n 😍
⎿ replying to uthaime_lori shoko_leiri : same i still don't get it.
⎿ replying to uthaime_lori _sixeyesupnext_ : ☹️ this is my comment section, why are y'all gossiping about me in my own comment section. I m hurt.
Im_funny456 : I just witnessed a divorce and a gossip.💀
⎿ replying to im_funny456 Uthaimesfeet_ : they are the casts of Jujutsu kaisen by the way 💀🙏🏻
@ _Sixeyesupnext_
Location: beach.
♥️ liked by _sixeyesupnext_ , _uthaime_lori and 112k others.
_Sixeyesupnext_ all fun and jokes , till you see your girl admiring something.
Tagged : @ y/n_offical34
Gojosbigdick_ : i swear I m loyal to goj-
⎿replying to gojosbigdick_ sukunaleftball : bro they won't give you a chance 🙏🏻
_Suguruthatswho_😨😰😧😲😱😵😖🤢 me when gojo tries to write a serious caption
⎿ Replying to _suguruthatswho_ _sixeyesupnext_ stop being mean to me suguru 😔
@ y/n_offical34
Location : car bruh
♥️ Liked by uthaime_lori , shoko_leiri and 89k others
Y/n_offical34 : your lips my lips apocalypse💫
_sixeyesupnext_ the caption 😍❤️❤️❤️
⎿ Replying to _sixeyesupnext_ Sukunaleftball_ : to think that this man looks like a demi god but acts like a fucking cringe ass 45+ year old.
Uthaime_lori : that's should be me😔
⎿ replying to uthaime_leiri yn_offical34 : I m all yours 🤭
⎿ replying to y/n_offical34 uthaime_lori : shh 🤫
@ _sixeyesupnext_
Location: behind the scenes (can't provide you the location 😕)
♥️ Liked by uthaime_lori , y/n_offical34 and 981k
_sixeyesupnext_ someone made this art of our behind the scenes (I m talking to you nanami 🤫)
Tags: Smut, no plot, first person POV, LADs, love and deepspace Zayne, PoC MC, #If you don’t like it, don’t read it, #no hating here, #melanated MC,
A/N: I wrote this a while ago, but never got it typed up. So… here’s for trying again. As a matter of fact, I had this story in my discord as pictures because I had it only written on paper. BTW: there will be a part two this (WIP) But I’ve got other fics in the works. So please be patient with me. Don't be afraid to comment and repost, I live for that stuff. Please praise me and tell me I did good. ヾ(＠^∇^＠)ノ AO3
Word Count: 3,142
I wonder if he got my gift. I smirk, checking my appearance in the mirror at my place.
Dark red chiffon blouse, black lingerie, black fitted pencil skirt, and red bottom black stilettos.
He’s been working so much, we hardly get to spend time together. It’s been months. And I’m so fucking pent up.
Everything paired with Lattafa Yara Arabic perfume and dark cherry red lipstick against my dark skin, gave me a boost in confidence. And I wanted to see my snowman lose his fucking mind.
So, I drove to his job. The nurses knew who I was and one of the ladies whistled upon seeing me. “Are you and Dr. Zayne finally going on that well deserved date?”
“That’s the hope.” I grin, then ask, “Where is his office?”
She points me in the direction then says, “Elevator will take you to the 4th floor and his office is two doors down to your right after you get off the elevator.”
I nod, following her instructions. I get on the elevator and wait for it to take me to the 4th floor. When the doors open, I make my way to his office.
His door is closed, so I knock.
“Come in,” his voice replies from inside.
I open the door, walking inside and closing the door behind me.
Without looking up from whatever report he’s writing, he says curtly, “What is it?”
The click of my heels are the only thing heard before I’m leaning over his desk across from him.
“No wonder some of the nurses still call you Dr. Ice,” I tease, voice soft and raspy.
His hand holding the pen freezes before he looks up at me. As soon as his hazel irises hit mine, they darken.
“Hello, honey,” I purr, analyzing his reactions.
His jaw clenches tightly and I can see his pulse jumping erratically. His heart is racing. “Can I take your silence as you’re glad to see me? Or… did I interrupt something?” I tease, smirking.
“Ameilia…” he warns, his voice hoarse and rough.
I lean closer, voice dropping low, “Yes… Dr. Zayne?”
“What are you doing here?” he says, his voice cracking at the end.
“Well, I’m unable to see my husband at home so I figured I’d see him at work.”
He caps the pen, closing his laptop then stands.
“Amelia, you always were so impatient,” he says adjusting his tie as he walks over to the door, locking the knob.
“Well, you always did test me, Zayne. Consider this retribution,” I smirk.
“Really? Is that why I found your damp panties in my lab coat?” he says darkly, his voice is thick with desire, consuming lust.
He walks back to his desk, pressing a button on the phone on his desk.
“Genine,” he says roughly, eyes hot on me, unblinking.
“Yes, Dr. Zayne?” she replies immediately.
“Do I have any life threatening surgeries to perform today?”
“No, Sir.”
“But I do have some surgeries scheduled today?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Please reschedule them for three days from today. My wife is feeling neglected because of my busy schedule. So I’m going home.”
“Finally,” she mutters, then clears her throat, “Yes, sir. Understood.”
He takes his finger from the phone. He takes off his lab coat and lays it over the chair. He undoes the cuffs on his wrists then rolls up his sleeves.
He stands before me and I falter, leaning against his desk. He grazes his fingers over my hips, trailing down my thighs so achingly slow that I shiver.
Then in one motion, he pushes my skirt up then picks me up, placing me on the edge of his desk.
“I had.. the scent of your addicting pussy in my nose.. all day” he leans forward, whispering low in my ear. His voice is calm, almost threatening, “Then you show up here. Looking like a Succubus and smelling like a drug. You look at me with those fuck me eyes and open your dick sucking lips to tease me. Acting like a brat.”
My heart hammering in my chest. Fuck, I’m so wet.
“What do you have to say for yourself, hm?” he says, nipping sharply on my skin as he slowly pushes my thighs apart.
My pussy makes a shameless smacking sound at the parting of my legs.
He looks down, his fingers pressing into my inner thigh and I barely manage to stifle a moan.
“You even showed up to my office with no panties on. Your offenses just keep stacking,” his voice deepens to a growl.
“Offenses?” I echo.
“Yes, my bratty wife. You have committed many offenses today. So, before I take you home and fuck you until you’re a mindless mess. I’m going to punish you here. Where everyone can hear you. I’m going to fuck you on this desk, and hear all the sounds that will come from your lips and your pussy.”
“Laria, close office blinds. Set recording for today to private and encrypted. Then send it to my phone.” he commands the AI, then unbuckles his pants one-handed, letting them hit the floor with a clang.
His boxers follow and his cock stands proudly at attention.
He gives me no time to prepare as he thrusts into me roughly in one go. Straight to the hilt. And I cum instantly.
“Already?” he teases, stilling. “Savor it. It’s the only one you’ll be getting tonight or over the next two days.”
“What?” I gasped, drunkenly coming down from my high.
“Brats don’t get rewards. Good girls do. And you,” he sinks inside slowly, and so torturously deep, “..have been such a brat.”
He pulls out just as slowly. He knows I hate this pace when I’m riled up. He knows I want it hard. Fast.
“Zayne…” I whimper.
He sinks back inside. He whispers, “What is it, darling?”
“Zayne.. please,” I whine.
“Please what?”
“I need you faster. Harder.”
“I know you do,” he says, voice deeper as his pace never changes. “And that’s why I decide how fast…or slow I decide to go inside this dripping pussy.”
“Is that clear?” he says, plunging back inside slowly, an echo of my wetness filling the quiet of his office.
“Yes, sir,” I whine, and can hear him grunt, feel him shiver.
“Despite hating this pace… [groan] …you sure are so fucking wet,” he whispers, his grip tightening into my thighs.
I love hearing the sounds he makes and my head lolls back. I wanna cum again.
He tsks, stilling. “Oh, no no, my flower. None of that.”
I hiss in frustration as my second orgasm is stalled out.
He waits a good while before moving again. Slowly. So achingly slow.
“You.. [huff] ..bastard,” I pant.
“What was that?” he says sweetly, his lips skimming my throat, raking his teeth along my heated flesh. A trigger he knows would make me melt. And I’m close to cumming again.
He stills once more and I curse sharply, “Dammit, Zayne!”
But the bastard smiles against my neck, his soft lips trailing a blazing fire in their wake as they travel down.
“What’s wrong?” he coos, mocking me.
“Please, Zayne, let me cum,” I beg, my body shivering. Almost in withdrawal.
“Why should I? This is your punishment for being a brat. Instead of coming to me and telling me you missed me, you chose to be a brat. A brat that left her panties in my coat where any male near me could smell them,” he whispers in my ear, his teeth snagging my earlobe as his torturingly slow pace continues, his tone dark. A possessive warning.
I shiver, unable to defend my heat of the moment actions.
“Tell me, my exotic little Ameilia, why should I let you cum when your actions were so reckless? Hm… tell me,” he whispers against my skin, humming.
“I’ll be good,” I rasp, desperate for release.
“Is that so?” he chuckles darkly.
He doesn’t believe me at all. His pace never picks up.
“My exotic flower.. you have this habit…” he whispers oh so low in my ear, slowly sinking into me and withdrawing from my wet and greedy depths, “You are so strong, and I love that about you. But you never ask for help. You never tell me what you need and I’ve done my best to respect your boundaries.”
I cry out softly in bliss. I want to cum. And judging from the wet squelching sounds, I’m close.
He stills. I hiss.
“Fuck!” I curse angrily, eyes drooping in hazy lust.
He grabs chin tenderly, his thumb tracing my lower lip seductively. He lowers his voice, “My flower. Look at me.”
I manage to find his eyes, trying to focus through my sex hungry addled brain. His gray eyes dark and the orange sparkled in the green like a nebula.
“I will always make time for you but I want you to tell me. I like to hear your voice. I like talking with you. You do not need to keep your walls up with me. Be honest with me,” he rubs his nose against my throat tenderly, still rocking his hips slowly into me, “I crave your affections. Your attention. Your nearness. I yearn for it.”
He starts to move again.
“Understand?”
I whine, shivering.
He smirks, “Use your words, my needy little flower.”
“I… [moan] … understand.”
“See? Was that so hard?”
“I… hate you… so much right now.”
His smirk grows into a full shit-eating grin. His office echoes with the wet sounds of our slow coupling.
He whispers against my lips, “Be more honest, flower. You’re upset that I’ve stalled your orgasm thrice now.”
“Please, Zayne, I’ll be good. I’ll… be more honest and not let my pride get in the way.”
He presses my knees tighter to my chest, delving deeper into my wetness, still slow.
“How can I believe you? How do I know if you’re truly sincere?” he whispers, his teeth raking my throat roughly.
“Zayne…” I whine, desperately trying to move my hips to chase my release.
“Words, flower,” he says, his hips snapping deep but going no faster.
I’m going to lose my fucking mind.
My thoughts fracture and fray, shattering to pieces as my body stiffens to cum.
And the cold bastard stops again.
I dig my nails into his shoulder and he hisses low, groaning, cumming inside me.
“No fair,” I pant, whining, tears rolling. He wipes them away tenderly.
He releases every drop before withdrawing from my body. He pulls me off the desk, then turns me around, bending me over the cool wood.
He presses me down firmly. My belly pressing into the desk and he slides through my throbbing folds, not entering but pulling my cheeks apart to admire the view.
Just as his cum starts to drip from my cunt, he thrusts inside. Bottoming out.
“Ameilia, do you think you were the only one suffering from my hectic schedule? Do you know how hard it was, coming home to you and only having enough time to shower then sleep? To see you, and lay next to those mouth-watering curves… and being unable to touch you?” His voice was strained, like he was talking through gritted teeth.
“Why.. didn’t you say anything?” I gasp, my thighs trembling.
He laughs, “Because your stubbornness made it seem like my presence was fine at a distance…”
Then he groans, body shuddering, “You’re tighter in this angle.”
He glides easily through my mushy cum coated walls. No urgency. Just a slow speed.. meant to torture me.
“So… does that mean that from now on, you’ll start voicing what you want?” he whispers, pulling back slightly, his fingers rubbing softly on my hips before his thumbs pressed into my tailbone. Effectively pinning me to the desk as he moves with slow precision, deepening the arch in my back.
“I’ll try. For you… I’ll try, for you,” I swallow thickly, gasping, “Oh, fuuuck.”
“That’s all I ask,” he says softly, a great contrast to the torture he’s dishing out on me.
He leans down, his chest pressed to my back, releasing his full weight on me.
He whispers in my ear, “But I’m still going to punish you for that sexy but reckless stunt you pulled. So, you’ll cum when I allow you to."
His hips don’t stop moving. Each slow plunge takes him deeper as he rolls his hips each time. Slowly. Before pulling back again.
He reaches under my braided hair threaded in gold, fingers tightening in my hair as he pulls. Slowly but firmly.
My throat becomes exposed and my pussy clenches in response.
He hisses, groaning in need, “Such a needy little cunt. No orgasm for you until I say. But I.. [moan] will fill this greedy little pussy until I’m satisfied. You will not let a drop escape.”
His voice deepens once more, “Is that clear?”
“Yes…” I swallow, my voice a whisper.
His hand comes down sharply on my ass cheek with a fierce sound. My pussy clenches again and I stifle a squeal. A slutty moan slips out.
“Yes… What?” he says, his voice calm. Too calm.
Maybe I did push him too far.
“Yes, sir,” I gasp, breathless.
“That’s better,” he says, almost a purr, and he picks up speed.
I moan, nearly shattering. But he drops his speed so slow that it doesn’t seem like he’s moving at all.
“Ah ah, little flower, not yet,” he teases, his voice so soft while he tortures me.
“Zayne, you fucking—” whatever I was going to say dies on my tongue, swallowed in a throaty moan. His hips snap back inside, deep as he could reach. And he reached.
My cervix screamed in protest, and he pulled back slightly, hips circling.
“Such a dirty mouth. I’ll have to put those lips to good use when we get home. As for here, do try to be on your best behavior,” he whispers, voice gliding over my skin like silk.
His hand comes down sharply on the other cheek. Hard. Unexpected. My pussy clenches hard in response, and his hips stutter. He moans.
Softly, pressing his lips to my shoulder in gentle heated kisses as he empties inside me again.
“Fuck,” he whispers, voice gentle like a prayer, “This pretty pussy feels so good for me.”
He spreads my cheeks, pulling back to look at my parted lips, “So pretty. And hot like lava. Soft like fucking silk.”
He starts to move again, “It feels good, doesn’t it?”
I nod, whimpering.
“Do you want to cum?” he hums, and I can hear the wet ungodly noises of him plunging slowly into my body.
I nod again, furiously. Desperately.
“Words, exotic flower. Use. Your. words,” he encouraged gently, purring, hips punctuating each word.
“Yes. I want to cum,” I gasp, my voice cracks.
“How bad?”
“So bad,” I whine, nearly weeping. I repeat, “So bad.”
He lays the full weight of his body on me once more, hips circling in my squelching heated depths. His lips skim the outer shell of my ear, and his voice rumbles in my ear, almost a growl, “Then cum.”
The coil that had been tightening in my body snapped viciously on his quiet command. And I screamed hoarsely, brokenly into the crease of my arm.
“You make such good sounds for me,” he whispers, “Doesn’t that feel good? Being rewarded?”
I cum so hard that I swear I can see the stars align. That I’m blinded. That for the first time, I squirt on his cock and it drips down my thighs like water.
He chuckles in my ear darkly, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Then he starts moving again. Slowly. Through my convulsing walls, sensitive and exhausted.
“I’m not done with you yet,” he whispers then bites into my neck, thrusting deep, rolling his hips, but never gaining the speed I’m desperate for.
I’m not sure how long we go at this. Minutes. Maybe hours. He lets me cum one more time then stunts the others. All the while he cums inside me at least 3 more times before he withdraws from my body completely.
“Remember what I said. Don’t waste a drop,” he whispers against the skin on the back of my neck then stands up. He walks to a drawer on the other side of his desk, grabbing a few disposable towels.
He uses one to wipe the mess from my legs and I tremble, sensitive and overstimulated.
“Clench that sweet pussy so that not a drop escapes,” he says coolly, as he slowly wipes over my swollen and engorged folds with the utmost care and precision before pulling the towel away and pulling my skirt down to its original spot.
“Careful,” he says, using the other towel to clean the floor from where I squirted before throwing that towel into the wastebin in his office.
Slowly, I leaned off his desk. Standing on shaky legs. Throbbing and still needy, my eyes on him.
“I know,” he says, cleaning himself as our eyes meet, “Be a sweet flower and keep all my cum inside that delicious cunt. Wouldn’t want to make a mess for someone else to clean up, would we?”
I shook my head.
“Good,” he smirks then throws the other towels away.
He picks up his lab coat and keys, phone in pocket.
“We’ll take my car. We’ll get home faster so that I can absolutely ruin you when we get home and get you cleaned up. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re well hydrated and fed, and breaks in between. But I’m cuffing you to the bed,” he says softly, hand on my lower back, ushering me gently out of his office after unlocking the knob as if discussing the weather.
I’m shocked speechless.
He looks at me, his nebula orange and green eyes dark with promise, his tone low, “This will be the last time you test my restraint and self control, won’t it?”
“Yes, Dr. Zayne,” I reply quietly, licking my lips because they felt dry all of a sudden.
His eyes drop to my lips, following the motion of my tongue as we wait for the elevator.
“We’ll see,” he says.
Copywrite: @laddelulu30; Do not translate or copy without permission.
Title Banner: yours truly. MDNI Divider: @jiyascepter Purple Divider: @jiyascepter
Hii! This is my first SMAU so please go easy on me. I know the Xavier girlies will ask, but for right now I only write for Raf, Zayne, Caleb and Sylus because I'm not well versed in Xavier's character! When I am I'll def write for him. This is inspire by those videos of guys taking their girlfriends to hot pot before their periods!
I took a lot of inspiration from @jinwoosbabyboo and @bronzealchemy ! Please go check them out their stories are amazing
