the long office table was full of your bored and antsy co workers, watching another pair of ego inflated finance bros over explain a reused concept for the nth time this week.
next to you, your boss nanami, who seemed to be deep in thought as his pen stroked his clipboard. how in the hell he managed to take any type of notes from a presentation as dry and shallow as this, baffled you.
it didn’t help that you could feel the rest or your coworkers side eyes aimed straight towards you throughout the meeting. it wasn’t a secret that you had been glued to nanamis side ever since you’d started working almost a month ago.
your presence was never openly requested by him, yet it was still like he hoped expected you to be there with him, all. the. time. it was a relief to have someone like him around, someone who didn’t give you the resentful new hire treatment. he treated you like an actual person.
sure it was the bare minimum, but it was still rare to meet a man in such a high position and who wasn’t a complete self absorbed douche bag. not to mention hot.
so very hot.
“hand me your highlighters.” your boss’s sultry voice rang through your ears, a slight startled jump running through your body as the man himself interrupted your thoughts, suddenly reminding you of your proximity. you nodded quickly,handing him your pouch of writing utensils.
his focus remained on his notes until the very end of the presentation, he was so focused in fact that he didn’t even realize it was over, not even the awkward cough from one of the men presenting caught his attention. it wasn’t until you cleared your throat did he look up, naturally he looked towards you first, then towards the two men in the front of the room,
“ah apologies. thank you for your time here today gentlemen, and for the very… informative presentation, expect an email from me within the next three days.” smooth.
the two men walked out with satisfied smirks on their faces, wrongfully so, because as soon as the door shut the room erupted in chatter.
“sir what are the next steps you would like us to take?” one of the men sitting around the table spoke up.
“nothing.”
the table erupted in confused looks, a relief that they wouldn’t have to deal with the two arrogant bastards, yet still thrown off by what the presentation contained to have had the boss so deep in thought.
“their concepts were old news, they had terrible egos, and their entire presentation was AI generated. I stopped listening two minutes in.” Nanami huffed out. “you’re all excused for lunch.”
the room began to empty out, you followed suit, grabbing your pouch of pens and highlighters. Nanami didn’t move a muscle, yet you could feel his eyes following your every move.
clearing your throat you built up the courage to ask the question everyone seems curious about, “what about your notes Mr. Nanami?”
your bosses eyes met yours, a hint of grin on his lips before he removed his paper from his clipboard and handed it to you, revealing an almost angelic looking portrait of a woman in office attire. shaded with yellows, oranges, and greens from your highlighters. somehow it worked beautifully.
“oh my. sir i had no idea you were so talented. It looks gorgeous.”
a small chuckle escaped your boss as he stood up from his chair, “you make a good muse.”
oh fuck.
an inspired by an interaction I had with my coworker who is 10 yrs older than me. the portrait is hung up by my bed lolz
valko is most definitely the type of man to drive you all the way home himself if you're too sleepy to do anything.
imagine being so tired that you can barely keep your eyelids open, and you end up drifting off to sleep in the passenger seat. peacefully snoozing as your dreams drown out the sounds of the city, low music, and cars wooshing by. he's right next to you humming along to the song, one veiny hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually on top of the gear shift.
when he pulls into your driveway, he puts the car in park and hesitates for a few moments to take in the gorgeous sight of you completely unaware that you're finally home.
valko will get out of the car, open the car door quietly, and pick you up bridal style to gently carry you inside your home after rummaging through your bag to find your house keys.
in the morning you wake up on your comfortable mattress beneath the sheets, and groggily glance over at your nightstand to find all of your belongings neatly placed with a sticky note as well.
the note reads: "can't thank you enough for a wonderful night. i brought in your flowers for you too, they're on the kitchen table. -valko"
Between surgeries, Dr. Zayne tries his hardest to stay professional. You, however, are ovulating, extremely horny and determined to break your boyfriend's iron restraint.
CW: NSFW. dirty talk, praise, begging, breeding kink, creampie, size difference, chocking, office sex, porn with feelings, established relationship.
-
The sterile scent of antiseptic still clung to the air in Zayne’s private office. He sat in his leather chair, white coat draped neatly over the backrest, sleeves of his black shirt rolled up to his forearms.
He had exactly forty-three minutes between surgeries. Forty-three minutes he had planned to use reviewing patient charts.
Instead, you were perched on the edge of his desk, legs crossed, skirt riding dangerously high up your thighs.
“Zaynie” you purred, swinging one leg playfully. “You’ve been ignoring me. A girl might start to think her boyfriend doesn’t want her anymore.”
Zayne didn’t look up from the keyboard “Love, please behave. This is not the time or place.”
You leaned forward, deliberately letting your blouse gap open so he could see the lacy edge of your bra. “But I’m aching, Doctor. I’ve been thinking about you since I woke up. I’m ovulating so hard today.. my pussy keeps clenching around nothing. It needs you, and your beautiful thick cock”
Zayne exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sweetheart, you’re being careless. Someone could hear you”
“I can’t promise you I’ll be quiet today, but you can stuff my mouth, you know?” you whispered, sliding off the desk and sauntering around to stand next to him, grabbing the chair to make him face you.
You ran your fingers along the knot of his tie, tugging it gently. “I need you”
His hand caught your wrist with careful strength, green eyes finally lifting to meet yours. There was a storm behind that calm surface. “You’re being like this because you’re ovulating, dear. You have to hold it in. I’m going to be all yours tonight. We can take our time then”
“No” you said stubbornly “I don’t want to”
You took one of his large, elegant hands and guided it under your blouse, pressing his palm directly against your bare breast. Your nipple hardened instantly against his skin. “I want the perfect Dr. Zayne to fuck me raw on this desk.”
Zayne’s fingers flexed once before he pulled his hand back with visible effort. “Love.” His voice was firmer now. He glanced toward the locked door, then back at you. “This is inappropiate. Someone could knock.”
“I know, I don't care” you said sweetly, dropping to your knees between his legs. Your palms slid up his thighs, nails dragging lightly over the fabric of his pants.
His hand caught your wrist as you reached for his zipper. He held it gently, thumb stroking the inside of your wrist in a soothing motion. “You can wait, sweetheart. Be good for me.”
But you were relentless.
“I can be good for you now. Please, Zaynie?” you said, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes that didn’t match the filthy words leaving your mouth. “Don’t you want that? Don’t you want to pump your pretty good girl full of cum between surgeries?”
Zayne’s breath hitched sharply, clearly fighting himself. He stayed silent for a long moment, breathing deeper.
“You’re so responsible,” you praised, voice dripping with lust as you rubbed your cheek against his bulge again, turning your head to press a kiss to his clothed cock, then daringly slipped your tongue along the thick length through the fabric. “So smart.. fuck, it makes me so wet when you try to stay in control like this. The way you command an entire OR, the way everyone respects you… and here I am, on my knees, begging to be your dirty little cum dump”
“Enough” his voice came out low and a little hoarse, warm but clearly strained. “Don’t talk about yourself like that” but even as he said it, his cock twitched hard, betraying how much your words were affecting him
So you kept going, ignoring him. In any case, you got nastier “No, it’s true. I want you to choke me while you breed me, Zayne. I want that big, perfect hand around my throat while you pump me full of cum. I’m ovulating so bad today… please knock me up. I want to leave here dripping with your seed, feeling it run down my thighs while I wait for you”
“Stop” He said, fingers tightened on the armrests, his restraint hanging by a thread.
You didn’t stop. “Imagine it. Me sitting in the waiting area later, legs crossed, your thick cum slowly leaking out of my used pussy. Everyone thinking I’m a loving girlfriend waiting patiently while I’m actually just your bred little slut.”
Finally, something in him snapped.
Zayne’s hand moved to your hair, gripping firmly but not painfully. “You’re going to regret teasing me like this.”
“I hope I do” you grinned, licking your lips. “I hope you fuck the brat right out of me.”
“You never know when to stop, do you?” He stood up suddenly, lifting you with him and setting you on the desk in one smooth motion. In seconds his mouth was on yours—hungry, demanding, but still controlled. His hand slid up your thigh, finding you bare underneath your skirt.
“You really came prepared to torment me.”
“Always” you moaned into his mouth.
He kissed down your neck, sucking a mark just below your ear. “You’re impossible”
“And you love it” You reached down and palmed his cock
Zayne exhaled sharply, then spun you around and bent you over the desk. Your cheek pressed against the cool surface as he flipped your skirt up. The sound of his belt opening made you shiver with anticipation.
“Such a filthy mouth,” he murmured “Begging to be my cum dump in my office.”
“Yes,” you whined. “I want to be dripping with you when you go back into surgery. I want every step to remind me who owns me.”
He freed his heavy cock and rubbed the thick head against your soaked folds, teasing you right back.
You moaned loudly. He immediately wrapped a hand around your mouth while the other gripped your hip.
“Quiet” he warned “You wanted this. Now behave.”
“Yes—fuck—thank you” you whimpered against his palm
Then his hand moved to your throat, applying perfect pressure as he pushed in with one deep thrust, stretching you open
“Mmmph—” you swallow a whimper “So big. Fuck, you always fill me so perfectly. I love being your little cockslut.”
Zayne groaned, hips snapping forward. He set a punishing rhythm, enough to make your head spin deliciously.
“Is this what you wanted?” he growled against your ear.
“Yes—fuck—yes!” you gasped when he let you breathe. “Harder. Choke me while you breed me. I want your baby, Zayne”
His grip tightened slightly, perfectly controlled even as his thrusts grew deeper. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the office. Every thrust pushed you harder against the desk, your breasts pressing into the desk.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he panted “Teasing me when I have patients waiting.”
“Say it Zayne, please. Say I’m a whore” you begged breathlessly
“You’re my filthy little whore.” Zayne softly cursed and pulled out suddenly. He flipped you onto your back, spreading your legs wide. His eyes darkened at the sight of your dripping cunt.
“Look at you,” he murmured, almost reverently. “So beautiful.”
He pushed back in, deeper in this position. The bulge in your lower belly appeared with every thrust. He pressed a hand over it, mesmerized.
“You feel that?” he asked, voice low. “How deep I am? This is where I’m going to fill you.”
You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Yes baby, please”
He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy kiss while his hand returned to your throat. The dual sensation—his cock hitting that perfect spot and the controlled pressure on your neck—had you seeing stars.
“Zayne!” You came hard, clenching around him, moaning his name like a prayer.
A second later he buried himself to the hilt and came with a low, guttural groan. Thick, hot spurts flooded your pussy, so much that it started leaking out around his cock.
He didn’t pull out. Instead, he stayed buried deep, grinding slowly as he caught his breath.
“You’re going to keep it inside you” he murmured, his fingers gently pushing his cum back inside you when it leaked out
You looked up at him, nodding, still dazed.
His gaze, usually so sharp and calculated, softened into something fiercely protective as he looked down at your glassy, adoring eyes.
“Behave for the rest of the day” he said, dropping you off the desk and then adjusting your skirt with careful hands.
Before he fully stepped back, his hands cupped your face, his thumbs gently wiping away a stray tear from your cheek. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm and uneven.
"I love you," he murmured, the words low and heavy with a raw sincerity "I’ll take care of you properly after dinner”
You smiled dreamily before kissing him “Can’t wait, Doctor.”
Caleb had been begging you for weeks to be rough with him. He was practically pleading you to be mean to him, something you had been too shy to do. But his birthday was only minutes away, and tonight you had decided to be brave. You were going to gift him exactly what he had been asking for so fervently.
You were riding him slowly at first, savoring the stretch of his cock deep inside you, already teetering on the edge of your own orgasm. Caleb’s hands gripped your hips, his breath ragged as he looked up at you with dark, needy eyes.
You leaned down and kissed him fiercely, biting his lower lip until he hissed. Then you sat back up, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you began to ride him faster. The wet sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, accompanied by his moans. His eyes were half-lidded, his cheeks flushed, and his usual charming smile had been replaced by raw desperation. “Fuck yes, just like—”
You glanced at the clock: 00:00. Your hand moved before you could second-guess yourself. The slap cracked across his face, sharp and stinging, snapping his head to the side. A red mark bloomed on his cheek instantly.
For a heartbeat, there was silence. You panicked. “Was it too much? Caleb, I’m s—”
Then, his cock twitched violently inside you. A broken, guttural sound tore from his throat as his entire body seized. His hips jerked up as he buried himself deeper, coming hard, pulsing thick and hot deep inside you. The orgasm seemed to drag on forever; his abs clenched, his hands strained against your hips and waist, and his mouth fell open in shocked pleasure.
You watched, stunned and aroused, as he trembled through the aftershocks, his eyes glassy.
“Shit…” he finally gasped, a dazed, blissful laugh escaping him. “Did you just—?”
“Happy birthday,” you whispered, your voice soft but laced with a newfound confidence. You traced the bright red mark on his cheek with your thumb, your skin still buzzing from the contact. Seeing your own handprint on his skin sent a fresh, sharp jolt of electricity straight to your core. You looked down at him, your heart hammering against your ribs, still feeling shy but emboldened by his reaction. “Did you… did you like it?”
Caleb didn't answer immediately. Instead, his gaze darkened, shifting to a predatory intensity that made your breath catch. Before you could process the look in his eyes, he flipped you beneath him in one smooth motion and hovered over you.
He captured your lips in a bruising, possessive kiss. When he finally pulled back, his breathing was uneven.
“Like it? I’ve never come faster in my life” he rasped, his voice vibrating through your own chest.
He didn't give you time to recover. He shifted his weight, thrusting into you with a force that made you cry out.
“Do it again,” he whispered against your lips, his voice dropping into a low, commanding growl. “Harder.”
₊꒷︶︶꒷︶︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒷︶︶꒷︶︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶₊
happy birthday caleb, I love you. I wish I could slap you ♡
kinktober 2026: monster (s)mash | jjk men x reader
summary: welcome to the monster smash: a graveyard bash for all us freaky monster lovers in chat! join us and meet your dream man (or, more aptly, monster) for an unforgettable night in the dark.
contents: 18+, MDNI, various!jjk characters x reader, smut, explicit sexual content, dark content ahead!, monster fucking, monster dicks & parts, like yeah i wanna lean into the freaktastic here, additional tags included with each chapter
word count: tba
notes: hello friends! announcing my hopefuls for kinktober this year. if you've kept up with my lamenting, this is a pretty crazy time in life for me, but the tentative dates are below!
Nanami's hips roll and slap against your skin, the further he thrusts inside you. His entire bedroom smells of sweat and sex, despite several candles of the same scent lit and the window cracked open.
"Are you tired?" His gravelly voice has since gone lower as the moon and stars begin to flitter across the sky. Each syllable he's uttered turns sensual in your ears.
"No." You answer, swiftly locking him in for a kiss.
He wraps your legs around his waist securely and bottoms out again. A heady moan rips from your mouth, and he swallows the sound whole.
Nanami's kisses move to your nose, to the apples of your cheeks, down your throat, and then settle into the baseline between your neck and collarbone. There, he stops and sucks on the crook of it.
The sensation feels too good, rendering you completely into a state of pure bliss and arousal. You swear you hear yourself beg for more, telling him not to stop from both the way he's marking you and the way he's fucking you hopelessly raw.
He might've said something you didn't quite hear or passed a garbled response in return. No matter, you feel the pace quickening and his teeth latching to your skin tighter.
Nanami has never marked you like this before. Oftentimes, they were purely accidental, and they're almost always in discreet places where both of you fail to notice them. But, tonight, when you ask him to cover you with his marks, with something entirely Nanami, he pauses.
He isn't one to lose control easily. He is someone who does things with precision and careful considerations. Even then, a simple mishap can undoubtedly be rectified with alternative solutions.
Thus, an impulsive action such as this is unlike any he has ever committed before. There is a subtle bewilderment marring across his features, though anyone who doesn't know him to the extent that you do would have deduced that Nanami looks like he's only thinking.
There, in his eyes, is an undulated discovery of something quite like finding a secret that only he can have.
"Kento," you call out, cupping his cheeks. "What is it?"
He leans into the touch and kisses your palm. His thumb occasionally brushes the fresh bruise he caused. "It's nothing."
"It doesn't hurt, my love." You say. "If that's what you're worried about."
Nanami's smile appears at the corner. You feel it quirk up against the corner of your hand. "I know, darling."
"Can we continue?" You lightly tease, tapping your foot against the dimple of his lower back.
Nanami tilts your head over to the left. The other side of your unmarked neck becomes visible. He leans down to you, his breath only a whispering distance from your skin.
"Let me," he coaxes before he sucks on the unblemished skin.
His hands travel back to your thighs, massaging them repeatedly, ridding you of pins and needles. His thrusts never cease, as if all that stored energy he has had from being a sorcerer has done him well to maintain a consistent amount of stamina.
As Nanami moves to mark each underside of your breasts next, he guides your arms to his head where he insists that you run your fingers through his hair.
"Oh, shit, baby," you moan near his ears.
"Hmm," his voice vibrates.
"So good, my love."
Nanami momentarily pulls out. He guides your head on a fluffed pillow before he angles you in a venus butterfly position.
His lips move closer to the top of your sopping mound, where he sucks just right above your clit. You grip his hair hard, accidentally yanking a couple of strands. You couldn't even form an apology afterwards, because Nanami never stops his lustful drive. He bites against your skin, pulls your pubic hair teasingly, and moans languidly at the euphoric feeling of it all.
"Oh, my God! Kento! Wait! T-Too much!"
"Pull harder." He grits his teeth, looking at you through your curled bush. "I don't care. Just pull if you must."
Maybe because it's your cunt and it's been sensitive for the past few hours after coming several times, and it's also because it's near your clit where in replacement of his cock, his fingers resume the pounding, and maybe it's because it's simply Nanami Kento — whatever reason it can be, you never expect that when Nanami gives you a hickey right there, it's probably the most intense feeling you've ever felt than any of the hickeys he's given you so far.
And you wonder, why have you two not done this before?
You're left squirming for what little control you can find: none. Your hands scramble to the sheets, gripping them tightly before Nanami forces them back into his hair, demanding that if there's anything you're going to have to hold as he continues, it's going to be him.
"Baby," you call out in a daze. "T-Too much. Too sensitive."
"Just one more." He kisses your clit. "We'll be finished soon."
You must have agreed because it isn't just one more as he declared. Nanami scatters his marks everywhere around your body like constellations. They come in different sizes, each with their own sense of claim. He makes sure, however, that even when he discovers just how wonderful you are with the hickeys he's created, he wouldn't go overboard.
But the one thing he loves most from his work? It's that blotch of purple on your pussy.
"You look beautiful." He says in admiration, his index finger playfully twisting around your pubic hair.
You lean into his touch when he scoops you in his arms and embraces you tightly. "I want to give you one, too."
Nanami smooths your hair. "When you're well-rested. I will let you."
summary: Where Sylus gets caught up in a battle with Wanderers, you go out to save him. You win the fight, only to pass out from exhaustion. You wake up in a secluded cave, where Sylus is worried for you. You get mad at him for leaving alone to fight the wanderers off, but the heated tension turns to an intimate moment. The next morning, with the help of Luke and Kieran, you and Sylus make it back to the cabin safely, and finally host that Christmas party, where Sylus cannot take his hands off you...
◈ TAGS/TW: (+18) NSFW MDNI. porn with plot? , established relationship, eventual smut, there's an action scene, there are injuries happening, but i dont write it graphically, and then sylus loses his control, rough sex, you and sylus gets caught, and he loves it, (someone need to investigate how much pubsex i write), Dom!Sylus, but also soft Sylus, p in v, you two ravaged each other
⟐ wc: 12.2k !!
◈ A/N.: omg this fic is loooong. I considered making this into a 4 chapter fic, but I thought it just reads better as a long oneshot... The smut happens towards the end, during the Christmas party if you want to skip ahead and read only the smut;; This took me a while to write, and honestly I had fun writing it!
Hope you enjoy the fic <333
Dim winter sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows wrapping the room. Warm yellow hanging lights decorated the top rim of each window, and colorful streamers cascaded down from the ceiling. Luke and Kieran had been helping me decorate the room for a few days now, and a giant Christmas tree was all that was left.
I had somehow convinced Sylus to help me host a Christmas party for friends and family. To my surprise—but not really—he had rented an entire mountain cabin for us to spend a couple of weeks in instead. This vacation was exactly what we needed; a break from our busy lives and some uninterrupted time for the two of us. Yet, even though he spent every moment of the last week by my side, today, it seemed he left without saying a word to me.
Sylus and I had been together for a couple of years now. As the undisputed leader of Onychinus, he carried a formidable, driving presence. Yet, whether we were destroying rival syndicates or purging the Wanderers that crawled onto his territory, we did it together. To the world, he was a ruthless, terrifying monster. To me, he was uniquely loving, defined by a deep and quiet devotion.
"Hey, have Sy mentioned anything to you guys?" I asked, pivoting to face the twins. They were currently wrestling a heavy oak dining table into the center of the room, their boots scuffing against the polished floorboards.
"I heard boss say something about a tree…" Kieran grunted, hoisting his side.
"But he left a while ago!" Luke exclaimed.
Pressing my palm against the cool glass, I watched the horizon. Heavy, bruised clouds were stacking against the peaks, swallowing the afternoon light. It was going to snow, and soon. A cold prickle of anxiety needled at my chest.
"Hey, I'm going out to go look for him."
"WHOA, WHOA, WHOA—"
In a blur of sudden movement, the twins abandoned the table. They scurried across the rug, arms flailing in a frantic barrier as they threw their bodies in front of the heavy wooden exit.
"You CANNOT go out," Luke barked.
"Stay in here, it's warm inside," Kieran pleaded.
I dropped my hands onto my hips, arching a sharp eyebrow at the defensive wall they'd formed. "And why is that? You both know I can handle myself in a fight."
"We know—"
"But you should also know—"
"The boss will KILL us if we let you go out by yourself!" they shouted in perfect unison.
A soft sigh escaped my lips. I knew Sylus's over-protectiveness came from a good place, but I hoped he could trust that I could stand on my own two feet.
"I won't go far. I'm positive he's just around the corner," I said, walking towards the coat rack.I grabbed my winter coat and mittens, pulling them on and zipping the jacket tight. "I'll just go around the perimeter and check things out. I'll be back in like 20 minutes TOPS. In and out. Twenty minute adventure, nothing to worry about."
I brushed Luke and Kieran apart and headed past them for the door.
"We can go with you!"
"Yeah, we can look together!"
"And what if Sy gets back and the cabin is completely empty?" I frowned, my hand wrapping around the doorknob. "Do you think he'd be more mad about that, or less?"
The twins froze, looking at each other as they calculated the math of Sylus' wrath. From what I know, they had been together for ages. Sylus had taken them in, as if they were his own. When I first met them, I was greatly intimidated by their dark demeanor and red devil-crow masks. But beneath the lethal exterior, they were incredibly sweet, deeply loyal, and surprisingly silly. I adored them
"Twenty minutes," I confirm to them.
"If you take a second longer than twenty minutes, we're coming after you with a search grid," Kieran threatened.
An appreciative smile broke across my face, and I threw my arms around both of their necks in a quick, enthusiastic squeeze. "I won't let you down! And if he finds out, I promise I'll take the brunt of his anger. Besides, Mephie is right here if anything goes wrong."
Perched on the nearby coat rack, the mechanical crow tilted his head and let out a sharp, metallic caw.
Before they could change their minds, I slipped through the door and into the biting mountain air. The wind hit me like a slap, instantly freezing the moisture on my face, as I blew a cloud of white condensation into my gloved palms.
Now, where did you run off to, Sy?
I began circling the cabin, my boots crunching in the fresh snow as I searched for any heavy boot prints leading into the woods. The surrounding forest was a dense, suffocating labyrinth of pine trees. The air felt increasingly sharp, a bitter draft cutting straight through the layers of my coat.
Pulling out my phone, I checked the screen. Only five minutes had passed. The wind was picking up, but I pushed further down the mountain path anyway. I needed to cover more ground, hoping to intercept Sylus before we accidentally missed each other on a different trail.
The path sloped downward, narrowing into a rocky ledge that overlooked the vast canyon. The view was breathtaking. Miles of snow-dusted pines rolled out below me, split down the middle by the sharp, crystalline line of a frozen lake. I squinted, scanning the blinding white terrain for any sign of life. Unfortunately, with his silver-white hair, Sylus was perfectly camouflaged against the snow.
The temperature was plummeting rapidly now, the sky was gray, signaling an impending storm.
I checked my phone again. 20 minutes.
Panic flared in my stomach. Turning on my heel, I sprinted back up the incline toward the cabin. I desperately hoped Sylus had bypassed me entirely—that he was currently inside, warm and safe, scolding Luke and Kieran for letting me leave.
I burst through the heavy oak doors, my breath rattling in my throat. I scanned the small entryway. No heavy black shoes. No sign of his signature black coat draped over the couch. Nothing.
The silence inside was deafening. My pulse quickened into a distressed rhythm against my ribs as I rushed into the main living space.
"Luke! Kieran!"
They came running over, the brief glimmer of hope fading from their faces the moment they saw me alone.
"Sylus... he's not back?" my voice cracked.
They shook their heads in silent unison.
"How long has it actually been since he left?"
Luke glanced up at the wall clock. "Close to three and a half hours."
I bit my lower lip until I tasted the faint tang of copper. This wasn't right. Sylus was precise. He wouldn't leave us dangling in a storm unless something had gone catastrophically wrong.
"Okay. I'm going back out," I declared, my voice hardening. "I'm going to look for him. If he comes back while I'm gone, tell him I went looking downhill."
I rushed over to the safe, retrieving the twin black pistols he had meticulously customized for me. I had foolishly told him I wouldn't need a weapon for a holiday getaway, but as always, it turned out he was right. The twins looked at me nervously, but they nodded. They trusted my combat skills, but the mounting danger made everyone tense.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped back out into the freezing cold. I forced my legs to move faster, pushing down the descending trail, my eyes darting through the shifting shadows of the trees. The icy air pierced my throat, making every breath a chore.
God, you fucking owe me for this, Sylus, My fingers tightened around the grips of the firearms.
Ten minutes stretched into twenty as I strided deeper into the valley. There was nothing. No footprints. No broken branches. No signs of wildlife. The silence of the forest was heavy and unnatural. The only sounds echoing through the trees were the ragged pattern of my own breathing and the occasional sharp snap of frozen twigs beneath my boots.
Then, the silence was suddenly shattered.
I ascended a final ridge and froze, the breath dying in my throat.
Below me, in a hollowed-out clearing beside a frozen waterfall, a nightmare was unfolding. A massive pack of Wanderers had swarmed the area. There were at least a dozen of them, their razor sharp claws scraping against the ice like metal on a chalkboard.
And in the center of the frenzy, was Sylus.
Sylus was on one knee, his chest heaving violently. His heavy coat was shredded, soaked through with a deep crimson. The snow beneath him was no longer white, it was stained completely red.
One of his hands was clamped tightly over a massive gash across his ribcage where a Wanderer’s claw had torn straight through his shirt. Blood poured freely between his fingers. He looked exhausted, his silver hair matted with sweat and ice, but his eyes still burned with an unyielding fury.
A massive Wanderer lunged at him, its jaw unhinging to reveal rows of jagged teeth. Sylus didn't even flinch. With a ragged snarl, he raised his free hand, channeling his Evol. A localized burst of heavy, concussive energy slammed into the beast, shattering its head into a shower of sharp fragments.
He collapsed forward, coughing up blood that splattered bright red against the clean snow. Sensing his weakness, two more Wanderers immediately closed in on his blind spot, their claws raised to deliver a fatal blow.
"Sylus!" I screamed.
The sound of my voice tore through the clearing. Sylus’s head snapped up, his eyes widening in absolute horror as he saw me standing on the ridge.
"Get back!" He choked out, his voice cracked and shredded by the biting cold.
With what little reserves he had left, Sylus raised his fist, unleashing another concussive blast that obliterated the nearest threat into glittering shards.
"Go warn Luke and Kieran!" he bellowed, coughing violently as frost coated his lips. "The lower trails are crawling with them—get out of here!"
Before I could say anything, another one was about to lunge at him.
I didn't hesitate, I acted without thinking. Drawing the twin pistols from my coat, I sprinted down the icy, treacherous incline, letting gravity carry me as I unleashed a deafening barrage of gunfire.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The bullets tore through the air, striking the two closest Wanderers squarely in their glowing energy cores. They shrieked—A piercing, glass-shattering frequency that made my teeth ache—before violently collapsing inward and detonating into a glittering mist of crystalline dust.
I slid into the snow, throwing up a spray of powdery snow as I planted myself directly between Sylus and the remaining Wanderers. The air was suffocatingly thick with the smell of blood and burning gunpowder. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I steadied my hands, aiming my guns at the rest of the pack as they turned their collective, faceless attention toward me.
Behind me, I heard Sylus let out a weak, agonizing laugh, followed by a sharp gasp of pain.
"You were... always a terrible listener, Kitten."
"Where the FUCK were you?" I snapped at him, adrenaline keeping the rising panic at bay. "How did you even walk into this—"
A massive projectile slammed into a newly materialized energy shield inches from my face, cutting my words short.
"Maybe we can save the debriefing when we are not bleeding out," he gave out a snarky breath.
I gave him a silent nod, shifting my weight onto my back foot. The sheer biting cold of the mountain was beginning to seep through my coat, turning my sweat-dampened skin into ice. But I couldn't afford to shiver. Sylus was still pinned beneath me, his healing was evidently bottlenecked by energy depletion he suffered. If he couldn't stand, we were entirely out of time.
Five left. Three Knaves, two Golems. I can do this. Sylus is here—hobbled, yes, but as long as he is breathing, I’m not fighting alone.
I snapped my aim towards the two Knaves on the left, squeezing the triggers tight. The bullets found their marks, but their dying screeches hit my ears like physical blows. The high frequency shrieking tore through my eardrums, the unnatural volume scrambling my balance. I tried to steady my grip, but the endless screeching made my chest tighten, suffocating me. My vision tunneled into a hazy white edged blur, and my knees forcibly buckled beneath me. I opened my mouth to scream, but I couldn't hear my own voice.
Were my ears bleeding? Why was my vision blurring into blackness? Sylus… where is Sylus?
I clawed at my own consciousness, forcing my neck to turn. He was still slumped against the snow, one hand desperately clutching the dark stain spreading across his shirt. Through his own pain, his eyes locked onto mine—terrified, agonized in panic, not for himself, but for me.
Sylus being the anchor of my consciousness, I dragged myself back up to my feet. Teeth gritted so hard my jaw ached, as I hauled myself back up. I couldn't lose him. The world spun wildly, accompanied by a deafening, high-pitched whine inside my skull and the heavy thrumming screaming of my own pulse in my ears. I snapped my weapon up and buried two more bullets into the screeching monsters to shut them up, then pivoted hard to the right, feeling the rush of air as I narrowly evaded an incoming lunge.
Two down. Three to go.
I scramble behind them, putting distance between us, I shoot each of the Wanderers in their so-called heads. Desperate to rip their attention away from Sylus.
A quick glance at my magazine, ten bullets.
Is that enough? I don't know, but I have to try.
I bolt, pushing my legs as fast as they can go. Running parallel to the ice frozen waterfall, a Knave lunged forward.
Bang.
Its body retracted to that same terrible position, ready to sing its deafening song. Before it can release its first agonizing note, I fire again, piercing its core.
Before I could steady my focus, the ground beneath my boots violently heaved. The left Golem had slammed its massive rocky fists into the frosty ground, sending shockwaves ripping across the clearing. I stumble, diving to the side to avoid the shockwave.
Bang. Bang.
My shots strike its stone surface, making it stumble but barely leaving a scratch. I take a sharp turn, trying to circle myself back to Sylus. Sweat glistens on my forehead, stinging my eyes. I didn't expect to be fighting for my life this week, yet here we are.
I spin on my heel, firing two more rounds at its heavy skin. Sparks fly, but the bullets clank harmlessly off, looking as if they are just hitting a wall of stone.
Are they even working? Wait. Where is the other one—
Before I could turn my gaze, a heavy bludgeoning arm struck my back. The impact drove every ounce of air from my lungs, sending me flying violently across the jagged ice, as if my body was just a ragdoll to them.
Fuck.
Pain flared hot across my spine, radiating down my limbs. If my blood hadn't been flowing before, the deep ache certainly got it moving now.
Four. Four bullets left.
I push my weary body up on my elbows, blood dripping from my head into the snow. Before I can brace myself, another heavy fist slams into my ribs, sending me tumbling into the snow.
"Ack—" I cough, a spray of dark blood stains the white snow. Every nerve in my body is screaming in agony.
Is this where I die?
Through the deafening ringing in my ears, a sound filters through. I can't make out the words, but I know the cadence. It's Sylus.
I force my head toward the sound and see him. His posture stiff and agonizingly slow, his Evol is flaring dimly around his knuckles like dying embers. He had pushed himself to the absolute brink, bleeding out in the freezing snow for hours just to keep this horde at bay.
A sharp pang of heartache cuts through my physical pain. Defiance burns through the agony. I force myself back onto my feet, swaying unsteadily against the icy gale. It is going to take a hell of a lot more than a pile of rocks to kill me. I catch Sylus' eye, flashing a wordless signal, pointing towards the Wanderer I am targeting.
I slide across the ice, firing two shots directly into the core. Sylus lunges into motion, charging the last of his energy into his fists. His strike connects, shattering the Golem into a shower of broken glass.
Two bullets left.
I look over at Sylus. He is swaying on his feet, on the absolute verge of passing out. I can't rely on him to finish the last one off.
I scan the immediate vicinity, desperately searching for anything. Something that could tip the battle to our favor. My eyes lock onto the ridge above us. A massive, unstable cliff of ice and snow hangs directly over the remaining Golem.
Can I shoot it down? Can I crush it?
As if our minds were linked, Sylus’ gaze snapped upward. He understood instantly.
"The structural support on that overhang is weak," he called out, his voice cutting through the air. "If you hit the base of those frosted log, we can bring the whole ridge down on them. But we have to move. Now. It will bury us too."
I take a shaky breath, "Okay…"
I raise my pistol. My hands are trembling so violently I can't align the sights. Suddenly, a warmth wraps around my knuckles. Sylus places his hands over mine, his grip firm and steadying.
Together, we squeeze the trigger.
The bullet tore through the frozen log, freeing the trapped chunk of ice. For a terrifying second, nothing happens, then, a thunderous crack echoed off the canyon walls as the massive overhang fractured.
"Run!" Sylus shouted.
The ground rumbled beneath our boots, accompanied by a sound like roaring thunder. As if we had rehearsed it a thousand times, we turned and ran. In one quick motion, I empty my final round into the sky—a desperate prayer that the signal flare would reach Luke, Kieran, or Mephisto. I throw Sylus' arm over my shoulder, half-dragging, half-carrying him, as our bruised bodies stumble together through the powdery snow just as the mountain gave away behind us.
But we were not fast enough.
The avalanche hits us like a tidal wave, tumbling into a chaotic vortex of packed ice. We plunge violently into the freezing white void. I slam onto the hard ground, the snow offering zero cushion against my fractured ribs.
Through the blur of falling ice, I watch as the massive icy shelf collides with the last standing Wanderer. The crushing wall of snow swept the beast off its feet, swallowing it whole as a roaring reverberation echoed through the valley.
Then, total silence.
A thick, choking cloud of ice dust fills the air, obscuring the world. I cough violently, spitting more blood onto my hands. My heart pounds against my ribs, my breathing shallow and ragged. The sudden adrenaline is finally evaporating, leaving behind a cold crushing weight. Defeated by exhaustion, I collapsed my entire body against Sylus' shoulder.
My vision darkens at the edges, tunneling into a black void. But before consciousness slipped away entirely, I felt the unmistakable warmth of his breath against my temple, followed by the gentle, lingering press of his lips to my forehead.
"You did brilliantly, my love," he whispered softly, his voice trembling with emotion. "Now it's my turn to take care of you."
The transition from the void back to reality is a slow, agonizing crawl.
At first, there is no sound, no light. Only the phantom sensation of crushing ice and the metallic tang of dried blood clinging onto the roof of my mouth. Every breath I take feels like I'm drawing shattered glass into my lungs. My ribs feel like they are on fire, screaming in protest at the mere beating of my heartbeat.
A scent cuts through the heavy numbness—a damp, hint of moisture drying on old stone, followed by the crisp, smoky presence of burning wood.
Then, a sound breaks through the static.
Crack. Snap.
I try to open my eyes. The world blurs, before the shapes slowly resolve themselves, it's a jumble of shadows and flickering of amber light. A rough, jagged stone arches over my head, weeping slow droplets of condensation that glisten like diamonds in the firelight. A cave.
I am alive.
"Look who decided to rejoin the living," a voice murmurs. It is a rough whisper, stripped bare by exhaustion, but it carries a light, teasing tone that instantly steadies my racing mind. "I was starting to think I’d have to carry you out of here myself. Don't think haunting this mountain gets you away from me, Sweetie—I'd just find a way to bind your ghost-self to my side, too."
Before I can even attempt to shift, a heavy, familiar weight is draped over my chest. It is a thick black coat, carrying the faint scent of crushed pine, gunpowder, and that underlying trace of scent that always follows him.
Sylus.
He moves behind me, his actions deliberate and slow. I feel his chest pressing against my back, as he settles behind me, wrapping his arms securely around my waist. He pulls me against him, tucking his chin into my neck. The heat radiating from him is overwhelming, acting as a barrier against the freezing drafts sweeping through the cavern.
"Don't move," he adds, his voice dropping an octave, and the teasing edge instantly evaporates into something protective. He presses his forehead against the side of my neck, his breath warm and uneven. "Please. Just stay still. Let me keep you warm."
For a long, unbroken minute, the only sound in the cavern is the uneven thrumming of our hearts trying to synchronize. I look down at his hands, locked over my stomach. The deep, jagged cut that threatened to split him open hours ago is no longer weeping blood. He is breathing, his posture steady, but the slight tremor in his fingers betrays the confident veil he wears so effortlessly. He is running on pure, stubborn survival instinct.
The initial relief of seeing him alive washes over me—a warm wave that quickly turns freezing cold as memory returns.
The empty cabin. The worried twins. The fact that he left without a single word. No note. No anything. Leaving nothing behind but footprints leading into a red stained hollow.
The terror that followed me out of that cabin hours ago morphs, sharpening into a sudden spark of pure fury.
I jerk myself forward, ignoring the hot spike of agony that shoots through my fractured ribs. Pulling away from his embrace, I spin around on my knees to face him. The sudden movement leaves me lightheaded, the cave walls spinning dangerously, but I force my gaze to lock onto his.
"What were you thinking?" My voice is ragged, barely louder than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a blade.
Sylus stares at me blinking, startled by the sudden distance. The firelight catches the stark lines of his face—the hollow dip beneath his cheekbones, the dark bruised shadows under his eyes, and the dried blood tracing his hairline. Even in his weakened state, his shaking hands instinctively reach out, hovering just inches from my waist, ready to catch me if I collapse.
"Hey, take it easy," he says softly. He tries to defuse the tension with a small, crooked smile that doesn't quite reach his worried eyes. "If this is about me not finding a good tree, I can explain."
"Don't do that, Sylus. Don't joke about this!" The tears I held back during the entire descent down the mountain finally broke, hot and angry against my freezing face. "You left me. You woke up, walked out of that cabin, and didn't say a single word to me. No note. No warning. Nothing. Even Luke and Kieran didn't know where you went."
That playful glint in his eyes dies instantly. His hands hug my waist, his jaw tightening as he absorbs the raw hurt of my voice. "I did go look for a tree. Just as a surprise. But I felt a wanderer's presence. I had to clear the perimeter. The tracking wards on the lower ridge were fading. If the Wanderers breached that line while we were sleeping—"
"I don't care about the tree!" I snap, my hands curling into fists against his heavy coat. "I waited hours for you. You never came back."
Sylus opens his mouth to counter, but the raw desperation in my voice stops him entirely.
"I tracked you through a blizzard, Sylus." I choke out, my shoulders heaving. "And when I found you, you were being torn apart. If I had been ten minutes later... if my guns had jammed... you wouldn't be here. You would be scattered across that icy hill, and I would still be looking for a ghost. You could have died. You almost died."
The fury drains out of me as quickly as it came, leaving behind a hollow, shaking exhaustion. I collapse back into myself, my forehead dropping against my knees as my shoulders heave with silent, ragged sobs. The phantom sound of the Knaves' shrieking echoes in my ears, mixed with the memory of the Golem's fist cracking against my spine. I am tired of fighting. I am tired of the cold. Most of all, I am terrified of a world where I look over my shoulder and he isn't here.
The cave remains silent besides the crackle of the wood. For a long moment, Sylus doesn't move. He sits there, a stark silhouette against the fire, completely undone by the sight of my tears. His fierce, untouchable persona vanishes. In its place is a man who looks utterly devastated that he is the cause of my pain.
Then, the dirt shifts.
He crawls forward, closing the distance I had desperately tried to put between us. He doesn't pull me into a harsh embrace; instead, he moves with a tentative, heartbreaking gentleness. His scarred hands find my wrists, his fingers sliding down to untangle my fists. He gently forces my fingers open, pressing his palms against mine and weaving our fingers together until there is no space left between us.
His skin is warm—not the burning heat of his Evol, but the soft, human warmth of someone who is simply alive.
"Hey," he whispers, his voice thick with an intense protectiveness. He lifts our joined hands, pressing the back of my knuckles against his cheek, right over his jawline. "Look at me. Please, Kitten. Look at me."
I keep my head down, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
"Please, Sweetie."
Slowly, I lift my head. My vision is blurred with stubborn tears, but I can still see the gut-wrenching regret etched into every line of his face.
"I was an idiot," Sylus says softly. His thumb gently wipes a tear from my cheek, his touch so light it feels like a petal brushing against my skin. "I didn't think. I saw a threat, and my instinct was to isolate it. To keep it away from the cabin. To keep it away from you. I thought if I moved fast enough, I could eliminate them and be back before you even realized I was gone."
He lets out a long ragged breath, his forehead leaning forward until it gently rests against mine. Our small puffs of breaths mingled in the freezing air, rising toward the stone ceiling.
"I forgot," he confesses, his voice dropping to a vulnerable whisper. "I forgot that my life isn't just mine to risk anymore. I forgot that when I run into a fight alone, I'm taking your heart with me. I'm sorry. I am so fucking sorry."
The sincerity in his voice burns through the last of my defenses. The anger dissolves, leaving only the raw, throbbing truth of how much I love him, and how terrifying that love actually is.
"Don't do it again," I whisper, my lips brushing against his as I speak. "Don't ever leave me behind like that. If we die, we die together. But you don't get to go first."
"Never," Sylus promises. His grip on my hands tightens, his thumbs tracing circles over the back of my knuckles. A faint, relieved trace of his usual humor flickers back onto his lips, though it's wrapped in an intense solemnity. "Though, dying together sounds miserable. How about we just focus on living together? I hear it's much better for the complexion."
"Sy…" I try to fight a fleeting laugh.
His gaze drops to my lips before rising back to my eyes. The playful edge softens into pure, unadulterated adoration.
"I was watching you there," Sylus’ hand leaves mine to cup the back of my head, his fingers tangling into my damp hair. "When that Wanderer hit you... my heart stopped. Truly stopped. The energy in my hands didn't come from my reserves. It came from the absolute terror of losing my entire world. You saved my life today. But more than that, you gave me a reason to keep breathing when the snow started to bury me."
The space between us grew heavy, charged with the lingering adrenaline of the battle and the quiet sanctuary of the cave. The cold wind howls outside, rattling the frozen branches at the entrance, but inside the circle of the firelight, the world has shrunk down to just the two of us.
Slowly, deliberately, Sylus leans in.
"And… you were so fucking hot killing those wanderers."
The first touch of his lips against mine is tentative, a quiet question asked in the dark. It is a soft, lingering pressure that tastes of salt and copper.
And I melt into it.
A quiet whimper escapes the back of my throat—a sound of pure surrender as I close the remaining distance between us. My hands slide up his chest to wrap around his neck, pulling him down toward me. Sylus groans, as his arms wrap around my back, pulling me close against him with a sudden, desperate hunger. The gentleness disappears, replaced by a fierce, possessive need that matches the storm outside.
"Have I ever told you," he pants, a breathless, loving smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite the gravity of the moment, "you're incredibly sexy when you're angry? It's turning me on even more."
"I think you mentioned it a couple of times," I give a breathy laugh, as he leans down to press a sequence of searing kisses along my jawline.
He presses a hard, lingering kiss to the pulsing point of my throat, making a shiver run down my spine. His hand slides down my arm, his fingers locking with mine once more as the last of his restraint snaps. His mouth claims mine roughly, becoming desperate and heavy—a messy, breathless exchange that burns away the memory of the near-death battle.
"Mmn— Sy…" I moan against his lips.
His tongue rolls against mine, warm and demanding, claiming every corner of my mouth as if trying to erase the hours we spent apart. He kisses me like a man who has just escaped a desert, drinking me in until my lungs burn and my head spins.
I pull him closer, my fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. A sharp, hot flare of agony shoots through my ribcage at the sudden movement, but I completely ignore it. The pain doesn't matter—not right now, not when he is finally here. Every point of contact between our bodies feels magnified, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against my aching ribs. It is a beautiful, chaotic friction.
Sylus shifts his weight, slowly guiding me onto the ground, until my spine rests against the thick buffer of his coat spread over the dirt. He hovers over me, his hands planting on either side of my head, his chest heaving as he breaks the kiss for a fraction of a second to look down at me. His silver hair is ragged and messy, his red eyes wide and glowing with lustful devotion.
"You are going to be the death of me," he rasps, his voice thick with emotion as he leans down to press kisses along my neck.
"Good," I breathe out, arching my neck to give him better access. "Then we'll go out together."
He lets out a low chuckle against my skin before leaving a trail of burning marks, his lips scorching my frantic thrum at my throat. A shiver rolls down my spine, a delicious, heavy heat that has nothing to do with the hearth burning a few feet away.
His hand slips boldly under the hem of my shirt. I can feel his fingers shaking ever so slightly, not from the cold—but from the terrifyingly careful way he's holding himself back, terrified of hurting me. Through his pants, his solid, throbbing shaft presses against my hip, making his desperation glaringly obvious.
My hand immediately drops to his waist, sliding down over the undeniable bulge of his throbbing cock. I'm halfway to gripping his belt when his hand shoots out, catching my wrist in a firm grip.
"Kitten... what do you think you're doing?" His voice is low and thick, as if he is frustrated with desire.
"It looks a little trapped," I murmur, batting my eyelashes at him with entirely too much innocence. "Just trying to help a guy out."
He lets out a long, dramatic sigh. Resting his forehead against the crook of my neck. For a second, I genuinely think he's going to cave, but instead, he captures my hand, gently guiding it back up to pin it to the ground beside my head.
"I am holding back with literally every ounce of my soul right now," he groans, a helpless, lopsided smile touching his lips. "Please, I'm begging you, Kitten, respect my resolve."
"You really don't have to be a saint, you know..."
"I am going to kill you if I take you right now, especially with you all banged up like this. Literally. So please, just give me the absolute luxury to be able to indulge your lips for now."
I grumble playfully, rolling my eyes. "Fine. "
He dips down and closes the distance once more, the kiss shifting from urgency to a deep, lingering reverence. It is thorough and slow, a heavy exchange of warmth that feels like a sacred vow.
"Patience, Kitten," he murmurs against my lips, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. "I'll make sure to thoroughly ruin you the second you're all healed up."
His hands cup my face with a protective tenderness, his thumbs tracing the line of my cheekbones as if memorizing the feel of me. Every touch is a testament to the years of unspoken loyalty between us, a fire that burns far brighter than the fading hearth nearby.
We stay like that for hours, completely lost in the quiet rhythm of each other's touch. The fire gradually dies down to a bed of glowing ruby coals, casting long, lazy shadows across the cold stone walls. The mountain chill eventually creeps back toward the edges of our sanctuary, but it doesn't stand a chance against us.
"You're my everything," he murmurs against the corner of my mouth, his breath warm and steady against my skin. "Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again. Promise me."
"Only if you promise to stop running headfirst into suicide missions," I reply, pulling him down into one final, lingering kiss that tastes of hope and a long-awaited homecoming.
Eventually, the adrenaline fades into a heavy, peaceful exhaustion. Sylus eventually pulls back, settling down beside me on the coat. He pulls the heavy coat up over our shoulders, tucking me securely against his side. My head rests on his shoulder, right above the slow, steady beat of his heart. One of his hands rests over mine, his thumb tracing the line of my knuckles in a slow, hypnotic loop.
"The trail will be clear by morning," he whispers into the darkness, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple. "But for now, we can sleep. You're safe."
I drift toward sleep, enveloped in the quiet warmth of his hold, knowing that the storm has finally passed.
The next couple of days passed in a blur.
We were woken up by Luke and Kieran, they were sobbing, voices cracking with raw panic as they finally tracked us down. The bullet I shot hadn't gone unnoticed; Mephisto had scanned the skies, leading them straight to us and deep into the shelter of the cave to escape the blinding snowstorm.
Sylus was right, the storm passed while we were asleep. And though his body was bruised and battered, the terrifying efficiency of his Evol was already at work. Knitting bone and sinew back together with unnatural speed—the amazing things his Evol does to him. With the help of Luke and Kieran, Sylus managed to carry me on his back all the way back to the cozy warmth of our cabin.
Soon after we arrived, Sylus had the best doctor in the city on speed dial, demanding a thorough diagnostic on my bruised body. I tried to wave them off, insisting I wasn't as fragile as he thought, but Sylus was very insistent. A dangerous mix of stubbornness and lingering adrenaline were painted in his eyes.
In the end, I was declared bed ridden for at least a week. I tried protesting, told him I could walk, but he refused to risk even a chance of further injury. I was devastated. The vision of the Christmas party we had spent weeks planning suddenly felt like a distant, vanishing dream. I was certain we’d have to call the whole thing off.
To my surprise—again maybe not really—while I was bored out of my mind slumped in bed, Sylus and the twins took matters into their own hands. They spent their days checking the property's perimeter wards, sweeping the vicinity for any more Wanderers, and coordinating with local park rangers to lock down the area. He wasn't about to let anything interrupt this, or us, ever again.
Thankfully, on the 5th day of my confinement, I was granted a glorious promotion from bedridden to pill-taker. I was finally allowed to walk around the cabin—with Sylus' supervision of course.
With only three days left until Christmas Eve, I threw myself into every remaining detail with a desperate sort of joy. I spent the days fine tuning the decorations, and filling the kitchen with the rich, buttery warmth of baking and cooking.
And then, finally, today arrived.
Christmas Eve.
The party kicked off in the early evening, bathed in a winter sky painted in bruised shades of twilight purple and burning orange. The weather could not have been more perfect; the air was comfortably crisp, kissed by a gentle, lazy snowfall that dusted the trees with glittering white crystals.
The dining tables groaned under the weight of spiced desserts and clinking wine glasses. The rich, nostalgic scent of cinnamon and vanilla curled through the air, mixing with the low, smooth hum of jazz and the easy laughter of friends. And then, standing illustriously in the center of the room, was the most beautiful Christmas tree that Sylus and the twins proudly brought in.
It was a small gathering, but I tried to invite everyone I could. All my coworkers, Jenna, Tara, and Nera, alongside a handful of familiar faces from across the years. It’s nice seeing all these people come together exchanging stories and experiences. It was a sweet cozy way to wind down the year, letting the heavy armor of our busy, dangerous lives slip away for just a few hours. To not think about anything, just food and drinks.
Across the room, through the shifting crowd, I caught sight of the twins deep in conversation with Sylus. As much as I sort of hoped he could find some friends, a deep warmth bloomed in my chest. He was trying. For me, he was stepping outside his guarded shell and letting the world in.
Through the gap of passing guests, Sylus’ eyes locked onto mine.
A breathless quiet rushed in. He looked impossibly stunning. We had coordinated our outfits, his sharply tailored red blazer perfectly complementing the deep crimson velvet of my dress. His silver hair was neatly brushed, stark against the dark collar of the black turtleneck beneath his jacket.
I saw that familiar, dangerous glint, spark in his eyes. Before I even had time to blink, he was striding across the room toward me, the space between us shrinking in seconds.
"Well, hello there," his lips curving into that wicked, mischievous smirk I knew all too well.
I raised my wine glass to my lips, using the rim to hide a blushing smile. "We met earlier today, you know," I took a deliberate, slow sip. "How are you enjoying the party?"
His gaze never left mine as he leaned in, resting his weight against my shoulder with a dramatic sigh. "I did my dues. I mingled with everyone here, and everyone is talking about how extravagant the tree is. Are you proud of me, Kitten?"
A heartfelt laugh slips past my lips. I set my glass down on the nearby table, the soft clink fading into the quiet between us. Reaching up, I tangled my fingers into his hair with gentle reverence, tracing the strands as if committing the moment to memory.
"I am," I breathed, my voice thick with emotion. "So, so very proud of you."
He lifted his head, and I cupped his jaw, smoothing my thumbs over his cheekbones. He leaned instantly into the touch, closing his eyes for a fraction of a second, looking suddenly, wonderfully exhausted.
"Really. I am," I whispered, softening. "Thank you for doing this for me. All of this." I gestured slightly to the vibrant room around us. "And thank you for taking care of me while I was recovering."
A low vibration rattled in his chest. His hands slid down from my shoulders, gripping my waist tightly, pulling me close against his frame.
"Then..." His voice dropped into a silky whisper right against my ear, "would you mind giving me a reward?"
There's that mischievous request
I let out a soft, breathless laugh, tilting my head back. "And what would that reward be, exactly?"
"I need you to come upstairs with me. Right now. In private."
I let out an exaggerated, highly theatrical gasp, fluttering my eyelashes. "And what would happen to my reputation as a gracious host if I abandoned my guests right in the middle of dinner?"
"Luke and Kieran will cover for us." He glanced back over his shoulder. I followed his gaze to find both twins giving us exaggerated thumbs-up, entirely wise to Sylus' agenda.
I let out a helpless sigh. "We can't just disappear together, Sylus. People will notice."
"Then, why don't you go up first. I'll follow you a minute later." A slow, villainous wink caught the ambient candlelight.
"Okay, okay," I gave in, patting his chest with a soft, yielding surrender. "I'll see you in our room."
I slipped away from the warmth and laughter of the party, retreating into the quiet, cool sanctuary of our private room.
The night is slowly closing in on us now. Through the frost-kissed windows, the sky deepened to a bruised indigo, where falling snow caught the silver wash of moonlight like drifting stars.
My pulse was already hammering a frantic rhythm against my chest—not from the chill, but from the electric, suffocating anticipation of what was about to unfold in this room. My skin burned, a sudden, heavy coil of heat pooling deep in my stomach. I silently thanked the heavens I had brought my glass of wine upstairs; it offered a convenient, ready-made excuse for the flushed heat blooming across my cheeks.
Ever since we returned to the cabin, I had felt the restraint in Sylus snapping day by day. Some nights, his kisses lingered like a silent promise on my lips. Others, his hands traced the lines of my body just shy of crossing the strict vow he’d made not to touch me until I was entirely healed.
But the day after tomorrow, our brutal reality would rush back in. The separate jobs, the miles of distance, the stolen, agonizingly brief moments between our different lives.
My fingers tightened around the stem of the wine glass, a sudden, sharp ache of sorrow threatening to swallow the magic of the night.
Clack.
The soft, decisive click of the door latching shut shattered the silence.
I turned. Sylus was already removing his red blazer, tossing it carelessly over the dresser as he strode towards me.
"What's with the sad look, Kitten?" he asked softly, closing the remaining distance. He sank onto the edge of the mattress beside me, his hand reaching out to wrap around mine, gently taking the glass from my fingers and setting it on the nightstand.
I looked at him, feeling the lump in my throat, and leaned my head heavily against his shoulder. "After tomorrow... we go back to reality. I want to stay trapped in this dream-like world just a little bit longer."
Sylus pressed a tender, lingering kiss to the crown of my head. "Well, that's after. We still have all of tomorrow, and the night of today. All of it. And I intend to make every second count."
I slid my hand beneath his, weaving our fingers together until there was no space left between us. I lifted my chin, locking my eyes with his burning red gaze. "Do you remember your promise?" I whispered, my voice trembling slightly. "The one about... ruining me once I was finally healed?"
The air in the room suddenly felt thin, charged with a sudden, suffocating current. I watched the exact moment his expression shifted, his eyes gleaming with lust.
"How could I ever forget a promise like that, Kitten?"
Before I could draw another breath, his hands gripped my hips, easily guiding me backward until I was sinking into the mattress, his heavy weight pinning me down beneath him. His knees bracketed my thighs, parting them effortlessly as he loomed over me.
"I might not be able to hold myself back, Sweetie."
I bit down hard on my lower lip, my breath catching in my throat.
"I don't think…" I whispered, looking up at him through heavy lidded eyes, "…I want you to hold back anymore."
And that was all it took. The last fragile thread of our resolve snapping completely.
His mouth crashed down onto mine in a searing, scorching kiss. His tongue immediately slid past my lips to claim me with desperate urgency. His hands slid upward, pinning both of my wrists securely above my head as his body settled heavy against mine.
"You are so unbearably sexy tonight," he murmured against my mouth, tearing his lips away for a fraction of a second, just enough to let out his voice.
"Just tonight?" I breathed back, letting out a teasing challenge, despite the wild racing of my heart.
Laugh rumbled deep in his chest before his mouth descended again, swallowing my reply and plunging us both into the intoxicating heat of the night.
Sylus’ kiss was like a storm long overdue—possessive and heavy with all the desperate weeks of restraint he had forced upon himself. The heat of his mouth swelling against mine, stealing the breath right from my lungs, while he kept his hands anchoring my wrists firmly above my head, leaving me completely at his mercy. Every touch felt electric against my sensitive skin, a sharp reminder of how long we had waited for this, how close we had come to losing it all in that blinding battle.
"Look at me, Kitten," he commanded.
I forced my heavy eyelids to open. Up close, his red eyes were glowing against the dim shadows of the bedroom. Burning with an intense, intoxicating hunger that made my whole body melt.
Slowly and deliberately, his grip on my wrists loosened, his hands sliding down my arms. Every sweep of his palms left a trail of fire in their wake, tracing over my shoulders, sliding down the curves of my body, until they rested hot and heavy on my waist. With effortless strength, he hauled me close against him, leaving no space, no air, no doubt about what he wanted.
"I've thought about this every single day while you were lying on that bed," he muttered against my throat, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just below my jaw. He pressed his tongue against my neck, making me gasp and arch my back instinctively toward him. "Every time I had to stop myself from pulling you into my arms... It was absolute torture."
"Mnn—" All I could do was let out a weak moan.
His hands moved with a practiced, devastating urgency, sweeping up the crimson velvet of my dress. The cool winter air of the room kissed my bare legs for a second before his weight shifted, pressing between my thighs. Every inch of him was a hot contrast to the freezing world outside these walls.
When his lips found mine again, it wasn't gentle. It was a deep, ravaging claim. His tongue swept into me, matching the desperate, frantic rhythm of my racing pulse. He didn't just want to kiss me—he wanted to consume me, to drown out the reality of tomorrow, our separate lives, and everything except this quiet sanctuary. My body answered every shift of his frame, meeting him eagerly as the last remnants of our control dissolved into the dark, sweet promise of the night.
The urgency in his movements bled into something heavier, etched with dangerous intent. Sylus tracked a burning path down from my mouth, dragging across my jawline, lingering over the hollow of my throat, and pressing a searing kiss against the sensitive point of my breasts over the fabric.
I let out a soft, broken gasp, my fingers gripping his shoulders, my nails digging instinctively into the dark fabric of his turtleneck as shivers racked my frame.
"Sylus..." I breathed out his name like a plea, my hips arching upward on their own accord, instinctively seeking his friction.
He paused, lifting his head just enough to look up at me. The amber light from the bedside lamp caught the predatory angles of his face, silver hair falling across his forehead. His chest heaving with every ragged breath, and his glowing red eyes burned with a blinding intensity.
"I've got you," he murmured, his voice dropping into a hypnotic rasp that wrapped around my head. "You're completely mine tonight, Kitten. No interruptions, no boundaries, no tomorrow."
With agonizing slowness, his hands traced a fiery path up my sides, sweeping over the curve of my breasts before cupping my face. His thumb brushed softly, almost reverently, across my lower lip, tracing its swollen, aching outline before he leaned down and captured my mouth once more.
His hands didn't stay still for long. They slid down from my face, mapping the lines of my shoulders, tracing the sleek, velvet fabric of my dress until they reached the zipper at my back. With a smooth, practiced flick, he unzipped it, the quiet sound snapping like a spark in the heavy silence of the room.
The cool air of the cabin brushed against my bare skin, making me shudder, but the sudden chill was instantly banished as Sylus' heat pressed back against me, covering every inch of my body like a blanket of fire.
He pulled back just an inch, his heavy gaze roaming over my face, drinking in the flushed, breathless mess I had become under his hands. A sly smile touched the corner of his lips, filled with absolute adoration.
"Tell me you want this as much as I do," he whispered, his breath hot against my lips, waiting for my surrender.
I didn't hesitate. I reached up, wrapping my arms securely around his neck, pulling him down until our bodies molded together so tightly there wasn't an inch of air left between us.
"I want it all," I whispered fiercely against his mouth, letting go of every last reservation, every fear of tomorrow, and diving headfirst into the fire he had built just for us.
With a rough, impatient tug, he stripped the dress away, letting it pool onto the floor. Then, he slowly began descending down my body, laying down red territorial marks where his lips met my skin.
When he reached the center of my arousal, his gaze locked upward, holding mine captive. Slowly, deliberately, he hooked his teeth into the delicate lace of my panties, pulling them down and casting them aside without ever breaking eye contact.
Oh god— that's hot
"Kitten... already wet for me?" He licked his lower lip, a hungry promise in his eyes.
I bit down on my swollen lip, offering him a breathless, trembling nod.
And he plunged his tongue into me.
His tongue was hot and wet, searing against my most sensitive flesh. He sucked gently, drawing a broken gasp from my throat, drinking in every drop of wetness I was spilling for him. Just as my mind began to fray, his fingers drifted lower, tracing the slick entrance below in a teasing rhythm while his tongue worked me into a frenzy.
"Hic— Sy…!"
The shy tip of his finger slid inward, driving me to squirm and claw blindly against the sheets. He pressed down firmly with his tongue, rolling it in merciless circles. It was too much, driving me out of my mind. I shook uncontrollably, my thighs instinctively tightening around his head, trapping him in my lust while I was blissfully about to come.
"Sy… Syl—us.." My voice broke into a breathless whimper, a desperate prayer. "Gonna… come… make me cum—"
A low hum rumbled against my skin in answer to my plea. He hooked his finger deeper, pressing against that exact, ruinous spot.
It sent me hurtling over the edge, arching my back to meet his touch. I bit down hard on the loose sheet to muffle the cries tearing from my throat, terrified of being heard through the floorboards below.
He crawled back up my body, breathless and flushed, and pressed his mouth to mine, transferring my own taste back onto my lips.
"Taste yourself."
A command.
I parted my lips for him, shivering as I swallowed the proof of my undoing.
The heavy, electric fog of our private world was suddenly shattered by a sharp, jarring sound echoing from down the hall.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Hey! Are you guys in there? It’s Tara! I just wanted to pop by and say my official goodbyes before I head out into the snow!”
My breath hitched, frozen in my throat. I tried to pull back, my hands flying up to press against Sylus’ chest. "Wait—Sylus, stop," I whispered, panic spiking hot and sharp beneath my skin. "It’s Tara. She’s at the door. I have to answer her—"
"No," he growled.
The word came out as a dangerous, unquestionable command, vibrating directly against my skin. Before I could even draw another breath, Sylus didn't let me retreat. His hands locked firmly around my hips, shifting my weight with effortless strength. Flipping my body over, pressing me deep into the pillows as he settled his heavy cock against my quivering entrance.
With one fluid motion, he buried his whole length inside me.
A sharp cry tore from my throat, immediately muffled by the plush fabric of the pillow beneath my face. The sheer fullness of him stole the air right out of my lungs, stretching me wide, filling every empty space until my mind went completely blank. My body trembling violently from the sudden, jarring shock of being so full of him.
"Your pussy is so tight and wet for me, Kitten… Are you secretly excited?"
Before I could recover, he began to move. Slow and agonizingly deliberate strokes that dragged every last ounce of breath from my chest. Each pull of his hips was heavy and rough, and every forward press pinned me deeper into the mattress, melting away the shock into a blinding, consuming heat.
“Hello?” Tara’s voice called out from the other side of the heavy wood, sounding only a few feet away. “Are you okay in there? I thought I heard something.”
"Tell her," Sylus murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive edge of my ear, as he slowly shifted his hips inside me. "Tell her you're right here, Kitten."
My vision blurred at the edges. Every nerve ending in my body was suddenly set on fire, the friction of his slow, deliberate movement stripping away the last coherent thoughts in my head. I bit down hard on my lower lip, trying to swallow the moan threatening to break free, but it was useless.
"I—" My voice came out cracked, breathy, and utterly ruined. I had to clear my throat, squeezing my eyes shut as a fresh wave of heat pooled low in my stomach. "I'm—I'm right here, T—ara…"
Outside, I could hear her pause. “Oh! Are you feeling okay? You sound... kind of out of breath.”
Sylus let out a low chuckle that vibrated deep within his chest, and without warning, his hips rolled upward, a heavy thrust that forced out a shameless cry from my lips. Instinctively, my fingers started digging hard into the fabric of our bed sheets, as my body convulsed around him.
“I’m fine,” I managed, the words hitching sharply as Sylus torturously rolled his hips an inch forward that tore a soft, broken gasp from my throat. I pressed my face harder into the pillow to muffle the sound, my knuckles turning white as I clawed at the sheets. “Just… just resting.”
“Are you sure?” Tara asked, a hint of confusion in her tone. “It sounded like…well, never mind. Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you for the wonderful party! I'm heading out now, so Happy Holidays!”
"H—Happy holidays!" I choked out, my head falling back against the mattress as Sylus is twitching inside me.
We heard the soft pad of her footsteps retreating down the hallway, the floorboards creaking until the distant murmur of the party below swallowed the sound entirely.
The moment she was gone, Sylus leaned down, his red eyes burning with a wild, possessive heat as he caged me beneath him.
"Good girl," he panted, "She heard every single sound you made for me. Now... let's see how loud you get when there's no one left to hold back for."
"I—m… Hhhahh.. going to— kill yo—u"
He didn't waste another second. The slow, teasing pace vanished, replaced by sudden relentless thrusts. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise, pushing me further into the mattress as he thrust forward.
My whole brain felt like mush, the edges of my vision tunneling into a dizzying blackness. The sheer, overwhelming intensity of it was threatening to drag me under, making me drift right on the edge of consciousness.
Then, a sharp sting cracked through the haze.
Slap—
"Annh!—"
"Stay with me now, Kitten."
Sylus’ hand met my soft ass with a heavy, echoing smack, leaving a stinging imprint in its touch.
"I'm just getting started,"
The sharp sting yanked me straight back to reality, jolting me awake with a violent, electric surge. My walls tightened around his thick cock, squeezing him tight in pure pleasure.
Before I could even catch my breath, his grip tightened mercilessly on my hips, and his hand met my plush skin once again.
"Ahhnn—"
My voice was completely uncontrollable now, but I didn't care anymore. I moaned and moaned. His name, and any incoherent noises my lust-drunken voice could spit out, echoing off the walls of the room. The sheets beneath us were soaked, a wet stain of our combined lust
His movements grew faster, frantic and driving. I could feel him swelling inside me, stretching me wide as he chased his own precipice.
"Kitten— fuck—" he growled, his rhythm turning desperate.
With one final thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and spilled inside me, hot and heavy, coating my sensitive walls as he reached his peak. The moment he broke, I shattered right alongside him. My entire body locked up, shaking and twitching before dissolving completely into a blinding, rolling wave of ecstasy. Every thought, every grasp to reality drifted away, leaving only the heat of him inside me as we both came crashing down together.
The aftershocks were still rippling through my limbs, my body heavy and boneless against the mattress, when a low, vibrating rumble resonated deep in his chest.
Before I could catch a single steady breath, his hands slid from my hips to wrap firmly around my waist. With effortless strength, he hauled me backward, shifting our weight so I was straddling his lap.
I gasped as he stayed buried deep inside me the entire time, the sudden shift in angle sending a fresh, electric friction tearing through my still sensitive walls.
"Who said we were done?" he murmured, his voice filled with insatiable hunger as he cupped the back of my neck.
His eyes seared into mine, promising no mercy. My head spun, the residual shivers of my climax still humming beneath my skin when he suddenly shifted our bodies. Without giving me a second to catch my breath, Sylus hooked his arm beneath my knees, hauling me up and flipping us in one fluid, seamless motion so that I was flat on my back again, but this time with him looming heavy and commanding over me.
Before my dazed mind could even process the shift, he locked his hands around my thighs, spreading them wide and pushed them up towards my shoulders. He slid his entire length out, just to slam it back inside me. It ripped out a ragged gasp straight from my lungs, completely bypassing the aftershocks and reigniting the fire in an instant.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice a hoarse growl that scraped straight down my spine as he pushed himself deep inside my body. His heavy gaze has me pinned to the mattress, burning with an intoxicating greediness. "Every time I'm inside you, I want you thinking of nowhere else. Just me. Just this."
He didn't waste any time easing back into a rhythm, his pace turning punishingly deep as he positioned himself above me, pressing down on me hard. Every hard, deliberate thrust hit every single exposed nerve, making my vision blur and my fingers dig desperately into his shoulders as he chased another peak. His chest heaved against mine, the raw intensity in his eyes telling me everything I needed to know. He wasn't going to let me sleep, he wasn't going to let me recover, and by the time he was finally finished with me tonight, there wouldn't be a single piece of my self-control left standing.
"Sylus—ah—please," I sobbed out, my fingers ravingly curled into his skin. The sharp tips of my nails dug in hard, dragging across the broad expanse of his back and leaving bloody raw red trails flaring against his muscles.
Sylus didn't even flinch. Instead, a savage purr vibrated deep in his chest as he buried his face against my neck. His teeth sank into the sensitive junction where my shoulder met my throat, biting down with just enough pressure to make me arch off the mattress, before his lips dragged downward, leaving a dark, blooming constellation of bruises scattered across my collarbones and breasts.
"That's it, mark me," he panted against my skin, his voice rough and unhinged as he caught my hips and drove forward with a force that stole the breath right out of me.
Every inch of my skin burned under his mouth, while my hands worked in a crazed rhythm, my fingernails scraping and scoring fiery red friction burns across his back with every merciless thrust.
"S— Sy— fuck— Nhh— Sylus…"
An approving smirk touched the corners of his mouth, breathless and wicked. "That's it, Kitten. Take it all. Scream my name so the whole world knows who you belong to tonight."
With every merciless thrust, the friction built into an unbearable, white-hot pressure until the boundaries between us completely dissolved. My nails carved deeper crescents into his back as the edge approached.
"Sylus, I'm—Nnng—" I choked out, my body spazzed under him, as the second peak finally broke over me like a tidal wave.
He caught the sound right off my lips, a guttural groan tearing from his throat. "That's it, look at me, Kitten, take it all with me," he demanded, his voice raw and utterly wrecked as he abandoned all remaining restraint to drive himself past the breaking point right alongside me.
His internal walls shattered in tandem with my own, his cock pumping me full again with his thick cum. When he finally pulled out, his release pooled warm and heavy against my skin, leaving us both breathless and unstrung in the quiet aftermath.
The carnal adrenaline rush evaporated all at once, leaving behind a hollow exhaustion that weighed down my limbs. My eyelids drooped, the sharp edges of the room blurring into a soft, dizzy haze before darkness rushed in to swallow me whole.
"Sweetie?" Sylus’ voice was laced with an abrupt edge of panic as my weight completely went slack against him.
There was no answer left in me to give. My head lolled weakly against the pillows, my breathing shallow and uneven as consciousness slipped completely through my fingers.
A low breath hissed sharply through his teeth, instantly abandoning any lingering roughness for a concerned gentleness. His arms shifted effortlessly beneath me, lifting me up and tucking the both of us properly to bed. His fingers lingered on my forehead to brush a damp strand of hair away from my forehead.
"I've got you," he murmured, his voice softening, as he slid in beside me, pulling the blankets up to our shoulders and wrapping his arms securely around my waist. "Sleep now. I'm right here."
Sunlight filtered lazily through the curtains, casting a warm, golden haze across the room. I stirred, trying to shift against the pillows, but a sharp, radiating ache rippled instantly through my lower back and hips, making me gasp. Or rather, trying to gasp. When I opened my mouth to groan, nothing came out except a pathetic, raspy squeak. My throat felt like it had been scraped raw. A distinct lingering reminder of how loudly and relentlessly I’d been screaming his name flashed in my head.
And then, the horrifying memory hit me like a splash of ice water.
My eyes flew wide open. The Christmas party.
We hadn’t been alone in the house last night. Downstairs, the living room had been packed with half of our acquaintances, clinking glasses, and Tara…
Heat surged from the tips of my toes straight up to my ears, turning my face a blazing, incandescent rose. Oh my god. I screamed his name. Multiple times. Without any restraint whatsoever, thinking the music would cover it. What if someone had heard? What if the whole group downstairs had spent the entire evening listening to us?
Groaning inwardly, I dragged the edge of the blanket up to hide my burning face before gingerly pushing it aside to force my protesting legs over the edge of the mattress. Every single joint felt sore and dismantled. I had a pressing urge to check the damages he did to me, so I went towards the bathroom.
I flipped on the lights and caught my reflection in the mirror, letting out another silent wheeze. My hair was an absolute mess, but that wasn't even the main event. Turning sideways, I stared in disbelief at the constellation of bruised, deep-red bite marks and finger-shaped shadows staining my collarbones, shoulders, and trailing all the way down my hips and thighs. They were vivid, unapologetic proof of Sylus' heavy-handed affection from last night.
Resting my hands on the counter, I traced the edge of a particularly dark bruise on my collarbone, a wave of panic and mortification hitting me all over again.
Everyone was downstairs. God how am I supposed to face them again…
Right as I reached for the shower handles, a crisp piece of paper folded on the edge of the sink caught my eye. Written in his familiar handwriting was a brief note:
Take your time, Kitten. Hot bath first, breakfast downstairs when you're ready. Don't push those legs too hard.
A fond warmth curled in my chest, instantly warring with the paralyzing embarrassment still gripping my soul. I turned on the shower, letting the steaming hot water wash away the aches and the remnants of the night, before wrapping myself in a plush robe and carefully navigating the stairs.
The sweet aroma of tea and toasted bread drifted up to meet me halfway down. When I padded into the kitchen, Sylus was standing by the stove. He was completely shirtless, his broad back and shoulders marked by the pale, fading crescents of my own fingernails from yesterday evening, it's a matching set to the chaos he’d left on me.
Hearing my soft footsteps on the hardwood, he turned around, a slow, knowing smirk curving across his mouth as his gaze swept over my gingerly tentative posture.
My gaze drifted from his warm smile down to his chest and shoulders, and my face flared red all over again. Scattered across his skin were the undeniable remnants of my own wild hunger. Jagged scratch marks and blossoming teeth marks from where I’d clung to him like a lifeline last night.
"Morning, Kitten," Sylus voiced softly, setting a steaming plate of food on the island. He walked over, closing the distance between us with easy grace, and gently pulled me into his warm chest, dropping a lingering kiss to the top of my head.
I swallowed hard, my voice coming out as a strained, gravelly whisper. "I... I'm sorry. Did I... do that?" I pointed a hesitant finger toward his shoulder, wincing slightly. "Does it hurt?"
Sylus followed the direction of my hand, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest as he looked down at the marks I'd left behind. He didn't look the least bit bothered. If anything, an amused, immensely satisfied gleam lit up his eyes.
"If anyone should be apologizing, Kitten, it's me," His expression softened, turning a shade more serious as he reached out to gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "I went entirely too rough on you, especially considering you weren't even fully recovered from your injuries yet. I let my control slip the second you started screaming for me."
Hearing the word screaming made my soul practically leave my body.
I grabbed his arm, my eyes wide with sheer panic as I croaked out frantically, "Sylus... the party. The Christmas party. Downstairs."
A knowing, teasing smirk curved slowly across his lips. "Ah. You mean the one where you decided to broadcast our private business to half the guest list? Oh and don't forget poor Tara."
"I am going to die," I wheezed, burying my face into his chest. "They were right underneath us! Everyone heard! Oh god, I can never show my face to any of them ever again."
"Relax, Sweetie," Sylus laughed softly, pulling me away gently so he could look at me, his eyes dancing with pure amusement. "First of all, the music was loud enough it might have muffled most of your voice. Second of all, the door was locked tight. And third..." He leaned down, his voice dropping into that teasing purr right against my ear. "Let's just say nobody complained about the entertainment."
"You are a menace," I croaked back, glaring at him through my embarrassment while a reluctant smile tugged at my own lips.
"Guilty as charged," he chuckled, sliding his hands down to rest securely on my hips, pulling me just close enough to make my breath hitch. He leaned in, casually eyeing the plate of eggs and toast sitting behind him on the island. "Though, before you die of mortification, sit your sore self down. I made sure to add extra honey to that tea for your throat."
"I don't need—ah," I startled, wincing slightly as I tried to pull out a bar stool.
Before I could protest further, Sylus effortlessly scooped me up by the waist, deposited me gently onto the cushioned seat, and slid a warm mug of honey-infused tea right into my hands.
"Careful. I'd hate for you to pull a muscle trying to be stubborn," he teased, leaning his hips against the counter across from me with a smug grin.
I took a sip of the hot sweet tea giving him a sulky glare.
He laughed softly, shaking his head. Before I could retort with another comeback, he closed the remaining distance between us, framing my face with his hands and pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to my lips that chased away every lingering ache and trace of embarrassment.
• Boxer!bf Leon who never confirms he's dating anyone, no matter how relentless the interviews become, and every time a reporter asks, "anyone special waiting for you at home?" he smiles that infuriatingly charming smile (that makes anyone forget what they were asking him in the first place) then he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, and somehow he ends up talking about his training camp instead (and safe to say reporter doesnt ask him about his dating life again).
• Boxer!bf Leon who does this because you asked him to keep your relationship with him private -- atleast for a while.
• Boxer!bf Leon who searches the crowd like a predator before every match, just to make sure you're there, and the moment those impossibly beautiful blue eyes settle on you, his shoulders finally relax, and the corner of his lips lifts into the smallest smile, and only then does he turn toward his opponent, as if seeing you is all the reassurance he'll ever need.
• Boxer!bf Leon who, on the rare occasions if you miss one of his fights, looks straight into the camera after winning and silently mouths, "for you." and god... the frenzy he sets off after pulling a stunt like that? is impossible. and christ you fall for him even more after that. and he doesn't care , doesnt give a fuck -- if the entire internet spends weeks trying to spread rumours and figuring out who those two words were meant for, because Leon knows, that you know, and its for you so what else could he need more?
• Boxer!bf Leon who looks terrifying during trainings and matches, the absolute cold ass motherfucker, but the moment he is settling into the car beside you, he had ask with his bruised face, "did you like me today?" (he says it so innocently that you want to tease him by saying no) but instead you kiss him gently on his swollen lips and murmur "obviously did, baby."
• Boxer!bf Leon who is brutally straightforward whenever someone approaches him romantically, and he turns them down without sugarcoating it, earning himself the reputation of being the asshole of the boxing world. but the moment he comes home? he drops face-first onto your stomach, completely forgetting he's built like a boulder, then he wraps his arms around you, and quietly reminds you, that he's grateful you're his, so you would not doubt yourself at all.
• Boxer!bf Leon who makes sure you never, ever doubt your worth, even though he's famous and adored by millions. instead, he spends every day finding new ways to remind you just how much you mean to him through quiet actions and "I love you"s, and the way he looks at you like, out of everyone in the world cheering his name, you're still the only person he wants.
• Boxer!bf Leon who, when the whole world finally finds out you're his, stops caring about hiding it altogether. and after every damn match, with a medal around his neck and a championship belt hanging loosely around his waist, he runs straight to you, pulls you into a kiss without a second thought, and whispers against your mouth, "I did this for you. see what a lucky charm you are? fucking mine." not caring about the hundreds of cameras clicking your pictures and reporters yelling his name, and after the kiss he is already guiding you through the exit, to his apartment, because honestly he can't wait to celebrate this "other way", by that it means celebrate his win by fucking your guts out.
• Boxer!bf Leon who everyone thinks never gets nervous, but his nerves are always a little jittery before a match, and he's ridiculously superstitious too, always asking you for a quick kiss or fuck, before he walks out because he's convinced it's his good-luck charm, and somehow, he wins every single time, so naturally he refuses to step into the ring without it.
• Boxer!bf Leon who has your and his picture on the wallpaper of his lock screen, and everytime he had make sure to take a quick glance at it before a match to remind himself who he is winning for.
• Boxer!bf Leon who keeps every little note you tuck into his lunch box, carefully peeling them off and sticking them inside his locker because well, reading them before a match always calms him down.
• Boxer!bf Leon who is as jealous as a cat, and whenever someone from his team greets you a little too enthusiastically, he casually pulls you into a side hug and presses a kiss to your cheek before turning towards his mate with the politest smile imaginable which silently says, walk away, she's taken, without ever having to say a single word.
• Boxer!bf Leon who absolutely loves when you take care of him after a big match, and as you patch him up, he dramatically hisses at every little sting of the antiseptic soaked cotton on his face, making you roll your eyes then you grin and deliberately press just a little harder on his bruise. "ow," he complains, pouting at you and you shake your head and lean in and kiss his lips, then the bruise on his cheek, and he grins immediately smirks at you and hums, "better."
• Boxer!bf Leon who, as ruthless as he is in the ring, is impossibly gentle with you, even after years together, he'll still cup your face and quietly ask, "can I kiss you?" or pause before pulling you closer and murmur, "is this okay?"
• Boxer!bf Leon who, after every brutal training session, practically collapses onto your chest after coming home and falls asleep almost immediately, mumbling incoherent words, your name, and the occasional sleepy "i love you" under his breath, and you just sigh, your heart expanding with emotions and you run your fingers gently through his hair, and let him stay there until you fall asleep beneath him too.
• Boxer!bf Leon who has been working hard for a fight that's due in a month, and you and him haven't been getting much time together. then, on the night after his match the ruthless one where his rival is barely left standing —afterward, he fucks you so hard that you're left sobbing and trembling against him. later, he becomes so gentle, pressing a kiss against your neck as he murmurs, "nghh sorry, baby, got carried away, but I'll be gentle next time, I promise." (Well... he lied, like every time) because the next time, he isn't gentle either but you wouldn't have him any other way.
• Boxer!bf Leon who keeps your nude Polaroid tucked into his boxers pocket safely and every time he's alone and apart from you, where he can't reach you through the phone he takes it out and looks at it, and when he's finally alone, he wraps his hand around his cock and jerks himself off in the bathroom like a teenager in heat.
• Boxer!bf Leon who texts you "goodnight" at 2 AM from his hotel room, then immediately follows up with a video of his hand down his shorts, his voice wrecked, "can't sleep, thinking about your mouth, tell me how you had take me, if I was there."
• Boxer!bf Leon who calls you "coach" when you're on top of him: riding him, and he lets you set the pace, his big body trembling beneath you, his fists gripping the sheets, whispering "fuck good form, baby, just like that, keep going."
• Boxer!bf Leon who makes you count his reps while he does pull-ups then after he is done he makes you count his thrusts while he's inside you, demanding, "louder, baby, I didn't hear you," until you're screaming the numbers.
• Boxer!bf Leon, who loves to bend you over the ropes of his personal ring, his hand clamped over your mouth, his back leaned over yours as he thrusts his cock into you again and again until you're trembling from pleasure and his cum dripping from your ruined hole.
• Boxer!bf Leon who begs you to let him fuck raw, like actually begs-- when you edge him relentlessly, grinding his cock from above his clothes, and he find himself already leaking, his eyes glassy and his voice almost a low whimper and yes —this terrifying heavyweight killer man reduced to "please, baby, please, I'll be good, I'll do anything, just let me come inside you."
• Boxer!bf Leon, who everyone thinks is a saint, but he keeps your used underwear in his gym bag, and whenever he's alone in the changing room, he takes it out, buries it against his nose, and sniffs it hard, and he tells himself it's for "good luck" whenever you're not there, and that it motivates him, but little does he know his heart is screaming, Pervert, every single time. (Not that he is ashamed of it).
• Boxer!bf Leon who lets you ride him after a loss too, when he is too wrecked to do anything to you but he lies there on the bed and let you use him, his big hands gripping your hips so tight that they bruise your skin for weeks, and he speaks, his eyes a little wet, from the loss he just experienced, and he murmurs, "need you, need you so bad, baby, make me feel good again." and you do make him feel good again and again, telling him how much he worked hard, how good he did, and that's all that matters.
• Boxer!bf Leon who hates losing to anyone, but whenever you two are play-fighting or doing arm wrestling, he loses on purpose just to make you giggle and laugh and you know he did it deliberately, of course you do, but you love it every fucking time.
• Boxer! Bf leon who proves he doesn't just own the world, he owns your pussy too, and he is completely drunk on it and is never ashamed to show that to you.
• Boxer!bf Leon who gets hard every single time you wrap his knuckles before a fight, looking at him while your fingers threading through the wraps, binding him tight and he can't help it, he has to adjust himself, his jaw tight, as he mutters, "fuck, don't look at me like that, or else I will be fucking you and miss the match, would not want that happen, would you?."
• Boxer!bf Leon who stays hard even after multiple rounds with you, your body boneless, you think, his fucking, endurance. which he has from years of training, and when he is deep inside you, your eyes glossy and takes a look at you with those blue eyes, his hands cupping your face gently, and he asks, "can you take more, baby? because I need more. I always need more, please baby."
• Boxer!bf Leon who eats you out like he's starving after making weights, dehydrated, and desperate, groaning against your wet folds, "you taste so good, fuck, I thought about this every night, every single night in that shitty hotel room and had to imagine your cunt wrapped around me, while I stroked my cock."
• Boxer!bf Leon whose body locks inside you as soon as you whisper, "my champion" and right when he's about to finish inside you, his body locks up, his eyes rolls back, then he is spilling his cum so deep into you that you feel it for hours.
• Boxer!bf Leon whose cock is actually eleven inches, and God, he's so humble about it. and every time he thrusts into you, destroying your hole a little more, you can't help but think you were way too lucky.
• Boxer!bf Leon who keeps you happy not just physically, but emotionally too, and with him, you're not just content with yourself you find yourself content with life, too.
Hi! I was reading some of your work and I love it so much! I was wondering if you could write the LADS men dealing with an MC who’s struggling with loneliness and depression which makes her very clingy to them? Recently I’ve been dealing with severe depression and isolation, and with my best friend leaving the country soon I’m gonna be alone, fanfics are my form of comfort right now. Please and thank you :)
Author’s Note : Thank you for your sweet words, anon. I hope you continue to enjoy my writing. 🤗 I pray I did your request justice and that it brings you some peace of mind, and perhaps even a smile. 🥺
Synopsis: a collection of soft, slighty melancholic Love and Deepspace drabbles, written with a clingy, emotionally vulnerable reader who simply wants to hold onto the people they love
Pairing : all the LIs separately, including Valko x reader
Trigger/content warning : established relationship, mild angst, fear of abandonment, clingy behavior, separation anxiety, emotional distress, depressive thoughts, comfort-focused
ALWAYS BACK TO YOU
XAVIER (word count : 289)
You stir in your sleep and instinctively reach for the other side of the bed, where Xavier is usually asleep beside you. Your fingers meet only empty sheets.
The mattress is still slightly warm beneath your touch.
Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you sit up.
You check the living room first.
Empty.
The kitchen.
Empty.
You knock on the bathroom door and push it open.
Empty.
Your pulse begins to pound in your ears, each heartbeat louder than the last. You tell yourself not to overreact, that Xavier would never leave without a reason.
But the reassurance doesn’t stick.
A familiar panic starts to claw at your chest, and your breathing turns shallow.
Waking up without him beside you feels colder than it should.
Then you hear it—
The soft click of a key turning in the front door.
You rush toward the sound, and the moment the door opens, your eyes meet Xavier’s.
Relief hits hard.
Without thinking, you throw yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“Where were you?” your voice is barely above a whisper. “I woke up, and you weren’t there.”
“I went to the bakery,” he says gently. “You were sleeping so soundly, Starlight. I didn’t want to wake you.”
Your grip tightens, and he feels the slight tremor running through your body.
Xavier understands.
He lets the paper bag of still-warm pastries slip from his hand onto the floor and wraps both arms around your waist, drawing you close.
Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, he murmurs against your hair, “I’m sorry, Starlight. Next time, I’ll leave you a note.”
He leans back just enough to look at you, his gaze tender.
Zayne comes home after another long shift at Akso Hospital to find you sitting quietly on the couch, completely absorbed in something resting in your lap.
When he sits down beside you, the cushion dips under his weight. With practiced ease, he loosens his tie in a single motion before leaning closer to see what has captured your attention.
It’s a photo album, its pages filled with memories the two of you have made together over the years.
“Zayne, don’t you think we look older in these newer photos?” you ask, running your fingertips over the page before looking up at him.
Zayne hums quietly as he studies the photographs.
“Aging is only natural,” he replies.
You lower your gaze again, your chest tightening.
“I don’t want you to grow old,” you whisper. “If you get old, it means you’re getting closer to death.”
“Life and death come hand in hand,” Zayne says, the doctor in him answering with calm honesty. “Everyone dies eventually.”
Your eyes fill with tears.
“I don’t want you to die,” you murmur, your voice breaking. “If you do, I’ll be alone.”
Zayne’s expression softens.
He takes your hands in his, his thumbs rubbing across your knuckles.
“Let’s not dwell on things beyond our control,” he says gently.
He lifts your hands to his lips and presses a gentle kiss against them.
“Right now,” he murmurs, his gaze steady, “I’m here with you.”
“So let’s focus on the present and spend every moment we can together.”
Living in Whitesand Bay means you and Rafayel can visit the beach whenever you want.
As a Lemurian, Rafayel is happiest in the ocean, where the waves seem to welcome him home.
You sit in a floaty while he paddles behind you, pushing you along at a leisurely pace.
A mischievous grin spreads across his face. Before you can react, he flicks the floaty, tipping you straight into the water.
Rafayel dives after you, laughing at your bewildered, slightly unimpressed expression.
A moment later, the two of you break through the surface of the water at the same time.
Then a larger wave rolls in, pushing you several feet away.
Your eyes widen.
Rafayel has his back turned, watching the horizon, effortlessly balanced on the water as if he has no care in the world.
A sudden worry tightens in your chest.
You swim back to him, feeling as though you’re fighting against the waves until you can wrap your arms tightly around his hips, clinging to his wet skin.
“Using me as a floaty now, Cutie?” Rafayel teases, glancing over his shoulder.
You press your forehead against his back.
“How do I know the waves won’t take you away from me one day?” you murmur, your voice trembling for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold ocean water.
Rafayel gently takes hold of your arms and turns in the water, drawing you around to his front until you’re floating against his chest. He brushes the wet strands of hair from your face.
“Even if they do,” he says, “this fishie will always swim back to you.”
You sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing your eyes and yawning as Sylus moves around the room, getting ready.
It’s the middle of the night, a time when most people are already asleep. For Sylus, however, the day is only beginning.
With sleepy, half-lidded eyes, you watch him button his shirt.
A familiar sadness settles in your chest when you remember where he’s going. As the leader of Onychinus, another meeting, another deal, is waiting for him.
Luke, Kieran, and Mephisto are going with him, as they always do. It should make you feel better.
It doesn’t.
Fully dressed, Sylus steps in front of you, his broad frame towering between your knees.
You wrap your arms around his waist and press your face against his stomach, feeling the warmth of him through the fabric of his shirt as you breathe in his familiar scent.
“Do you have to go?” you ask, the words sounding dangerously close to a child’s plea.
“I’ll be back before you know it, sweetie,” he says, his fingers combing gently through your hair.
You refuse to let go.
Sylus knows that although you’ve accepted who he is - the ruler of the outlawed N109 Zone and the leader of Onychinus - you still hate the danger that follows him everywhere.
He scoops you into his arms and lays you down on his side of the bed.
Leaning over you, he presses a kiss to your forehead.
“By the time you wake up,” he mummers, tucking the blanket around you, “I’ll be right back beside you.”
You walk into the kitchen barefoot, wearing nothing but one of Caleb’s T-shirts. It’s far too big for you, hanging loosely against your frame.
You follow the smell of food and find Caleb standing at the stove, his back to you, dressed in sweatpants and an apron tied over his bare torso.
You don’t announce yourself.
Instead, you stay quiet and watch him move around the kitchen, preparing breakfast.
It’s an ordinary sight, but one you treasure.
As the colonel of the Farspace Fleet stationed in Skyhaven, Caleb lives a life where ordinary moments can disappear without warning. Every time he boards a ship bound for the Deepspace tunnels, a part of you fears he might not return.
Caleb turns and sets two plates on the dining table. The moment he notices you, he walks over and smooths his thumb gently over the crease between your brows.
“Keep frowning like that and you’ll get wrinkles,” he teases, flashing the boyish grin that belongs only to you - a stark contrast to the composed colonel the rest of the world sees.
You lift the dog tag that never leaves his neck, holding it in your palms.
“If only our time together could always be this ordinary,” you whisper, your gaze fixed on the tag.
Caleb’s expression softens with understanding.
He slips an arm around your waist and lifts you effortlessly, settling you directly on his robotic arm.
“No matter where my missions take me,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead lightly against yours, “I’ll always fly back to you.”
You and Valko have escaped the hustle and bustle of Linkon City for a few days in his wooden cabin, tucked deep within the woods.
Out here, your boyfriend can truly be himself.
No prying eyes.
No need to hide his wolf hybrid form - his bushy tail swaying behind him, wolf ears twitching at every sound, and claws extending from his fingertips.
You breathe in the scent of morning dew and pine. A few steps behind him, you watch the muscles shift beneath his broad back as he walks through the forest.
Then, without warning, Valko drops to all fours and sprints ahead. Your heart drops with him. He always seems different here - lighter, calmer, as though he has finally returned home.
And that thought terrifies you.
What if one day he keeps running?
What if he never comes back to you?
Something large crashes into you from the side.
Valko barrels back out of the trees, knocking you both into the damp grass and rolling you through the wildflowers.
He grins down at you, small canines peeking out as he proudly holds out a bouquet of freshly picked daisies.
With one hand, you scratch gently behind his wolf ear.
“I hate imagining a day when you run off and never come back,” you admit, your voice quiet.
Valko’s grin fades into something more serious.
“That will never happen,” he says.
“You’re my mate. Fate itself bound us together, and no forest in the world could make me leave you behind.”
Permanent tag list : @cordidy @thehyperfixationgirly @pjselee
If you enjoyed this story, feel free to check out my other Love and Deepspace fanfiction
“I don’t think I can go anywhere tonight :( i got a head cold”
You sent the text without a second thought. Your head was pounding. The sinus pressure unrelenting. Several tissues were wadded up on the floor with you holding yet another one to your dripping nose. A cough wracked your frame which only made you groan from the pain of the headache.
You were definitely sick.
You just got back from traveling and felt pretty good the first day after catching up on sleep. Now though… you just hoped you could cocoon yourself well enough in your blanket so that when you emerged you’d be perfect and healthy.
You had finally just started to drift off when you heard a commotion somewhere outside your blanket cocoon.
“Pancake! Where are ya babe?! Back up has arrived!”
“Why don’t you go get some warm tea started.”
“Tea. Right. That’s good for congestion. I’ll add honey.”
You hear slow footsteps settle beside your bed and a hand lift your covers. Sylus was crouched beside the bed as he brushed some hair from your face.
“What a sad looking kitten.” He murmured.
You couldn’t fight the smile even if you tried.
Valko makes the perfect tea. And both him and Sylus offer the warmest cuddles even as your body fights its own battles. Even though you don’t feel great, they make it bearable.
—
AN: it’s me. I’m sick rn after traveling. I was hoping to get a lot of work done and instead I’m sicker than hell. So obvious I gotta write about it.
When Leon catches you flirting with Chris and another agent in the hallway of the DSO, he takes you to his office to show you who you really belong to...
based on this request
I wrote this in a bit of a flurry, trying to get my spark back I guess, but I hope you all enjoy! (if you consider dom Leon to be ooc, don't read)
Silly man, you mutter to yourself, all the way to DSO headquarters with Leon’s lunch in tow. The building is exactly as you remembered: all white plaster and gray, carpeted floors. About as bleak and off-putting as the work done inside. Scuff linoleum tiles quack under your shoes.
As you pad down the hallway, visitor’s pass clipped onto the neckline of your shirt, you hear a familiar voice call your name.
“Chris?” You cheer with a smile, turning on your heel to spot the very man in the flesh–more flesh than the last time you saw him. “So good to see you.”
“It’s been a while,” he says. His long, toned arms wrap you in a friendly hug, squeezing you once extra-tight before letting go.
“Have you been working out?” Of course, he has, but you can’t help but ask anyway, and it garners you a bashful blush and a grin. He rubs his neck, eyes falling to the floor as he smiles oh-so wide, flashing a set of pearlescent teeth.
“A bit, yeah,” he replies, standing up straighter, hands coming to his hips. “What are you doing here?”
You lift up the paper sack in your hand. “Leon forgot his lunch this morning. Thought I’d bring it to him.”
His almond eyes shoot open. “Wow, lucky man.”
“Very. What about you? What’s Mr. BSAA doing over in these parts?”
He leans in as though sharing a secret, the scent of clean soap radiating off his neck. “Cooperation.” And a wink.
You bend forward to mirror his movement, and quirk a brow. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
He tilts his head back and lets out a laugh that was made deep in his belly, pressing a hand to his chest as though to stop his heart from corrupting. “God, you’re funny.” His eyes flicker up and down your face. “And you seem to get prettier every time I see you.”
“Oh, Chris,” you croon with a dismissive wave of your hand, fingertips lightly brushing the forearm he has crossed over his chest. “You’re just flattering me.”
“Oh, I would never,” he says playfully. Then, he adjusts his boots on the floor, pivoting to point a thumb at the hallway behind him. “Let me walk you to his office.”
“Who? Kennedy?” An unfamiliar man says as he passes by, stopping in his tracks as Chris nods. “He’s not in there. Just went by to drop off a report.”
“Hmm, I wonder where he could be,” Chris says, a little too much like Nancy Drew when she finds a broken clock. “I just saw him.” He shakes his head, turning to the unnamed agent standing beside him. “Anyway, Johnson, have you met Mrs. Kennedy?”
The agent–Johnson–pivots toward you and smiles, extending a hand. You meet it in a firm shake, returning the gesture with your own beaming grin. “No, I haven’t. It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” you say. The three of you rotate through the typical carousel of small talk, Johnson asking you how you and the Leon Kennedy met, and how the old fool was able to lock something as beautiful as you down. Chris tells the tale of how Leon was utterly lovesick after your first date, not able to talk about anything else for the subsequent week after your rendez-vous at that coffee shop.
“He spilt coffee all over you and you still went out with him again?” Johnson asks, his inquiry punctuated by an incredulous laugh.
“What can I say? He’s adorable.”
“He’s a goofball,” Chris corrects jokingly, nudging you with his elbow.
“My goofball.” You lower your lids, cutting your eyes at Chris.
“Well, Mrs. Kennedy, it was so nice to finally meet you,” Johnson says, pulling your attention back to him. His crystalline eyes are as large as saucers as his lips curve into a grin. “Not sure why he’s been hiding you away this whole time.”
“Take a guess,” Chris mumbles, voice suddenly low and grumbling, glancing over your shoulder. You follow his line of sight to find a gaggling of agents looking your way, muttering in hushed whispers. Chris narrows his eyes at them, and their own scramble to the floor, the walls, anything but the big, boulderous man staring them down with warning lights in his irises.
“Probably talking about what a lucky bastard your husband is, ma’am,” Johnson suggests with a chuckle.
Footsteps approach from behind Chris’s, a head of sandy blonde from over his broad shoulders, all muscle and taut, bronze skin. You would recognize the sound of that gait anywhere. Apparently, so would Johnson and Chris, because the young agent immediately stands to attention, and Chris quirks a brow at you.
“Johnson,” Leon calls curtly. The agent’s ears redden and his shoulders tense. “Where’s that report you were supposed to bring me first thing this morning?”
“Um, I–I have it here but you weren’t…” He stutters first, his voice slowly trailing off into quiet nothingness. “Here it is, sir,” he amends when he sees the unrelenting look in Leon’s gaze, deciding not to challenge his superior, who apparently rolled off on the wrong side of the bed this morning.
“Thank you,” Leon says in return, grabbing the manilla folder from Johnson’s offering hands. When the agent lingers for a moment too long, Leon’s eyes lift from the paper, slicing and daring. “That’ll be all, agent,” he bites.
You watch the scene unfold: your husband’s stiff lips curling into a thin line, the agent squeaking as he sulks off down the hallway without a second wasted, Chris’s gaze bouncing between you and his colleague.
“Hi honey,” you say sweetly in an attempt to blur the edges of whatever sharp stick is up his ass. “I brought you your lunch.” That you forgot, you think but don’t add, not wanting to rub salt in the wound.
“Goodbye, Chris,” is all he gives. Chris leaves you with a mischievous smile before walking down the hall, leaving you and Leon alone. “Should have told me you were coming by and I would have met you in the lobby. Or did you come up just to flirt with my colleagues?”
Leon closes the door gracefully, keeping the acoustics of the office floor in mind, and he turns the lock on the knob. His next movement is all but careful. He lunges toward you, guiding you backward with his steps until your thighs meet the ledge of his desk. There’s a glassy look in his eyes as he peers down the straight line of his nose at you, his cheeks slightly flushed, and his lips parted to let a warm puff of air past.
With heavy hands on your hips, he flips you over–so swiftly, your palms have to race to balance you. The wood is glossy and cool beneath your skin as you dig your fingers into the surface of the desk. He mumbles an incoherent string of swears and chides as he makes work of your bottoms, unzipping and grappling and shoving them down your thighs. With his own, he parts your legs, taking a moment to admire the way your arousal drips down your supple flesh.
“Bend over,” he commands in a rasp, a palm on your lower back shoving you down until your chest is squished onto the array of documents and folders scattered on the desk. You obey, though there was no chance you could resist his strength if you wanted to, and extend your arms above your head to tether you to the furniture, fingers finding a hard ledge.
“I think you like humiliating me,” he barks, guiding the head of his cock up and down your pussy. He hisses through a shudder when he feels how turned on you are for him. “I know you do. You know how I can tell?” He asks, bending at the waist to hover over your back, his words hot on the nape of your neck.
“How?” You ask, turning your head so you can cut your eyes back at him.
“Because you’re so fucking wet.” And he plunges in, not wasting a moment to ease into you, inch by inch, as he typically does. The one mean thrust has you crying out, such an immediate stretch pushing you to your limit. “Is this for me?” Another thrust. So punishing and cruel, the sting sending a chill down your spine. “Or was it for Chris Redfield? I saw how you were–” One more. “Flirting with him. And Agent Johnson? Do you want him instead?” Two. Three. Four.
The pain slowly melts into pleasure as Leon continues to piston into you, his grip deepening on your hips, possession leaking from his merciless fingertips as they burrow into the meat beneath your skin, now mottled with marks that prove he was there.
“Answer me,” he bellows against the lewd sound of his flesh slapping against yours.
“No,” you cry out, clawing at the wood. “I don’t want any of them.”
“Is that so?” His hands move to your shoulders, spearing you further onto his cock as he thrusts from behind. One hand leaves for a moment, rising high in the air, then coming down across your cheek in a mean slap. You cry out, fingernails scratching, back arching. Another one, even harder than the last. “Answer me.”
“It is, Leon,” you wail as he removes himself completely, forcing himself back inside with one barbarous buck of his hips. “I promise.”
With the weight of your body against the desk, the pressure in your lower abdomen grows, the wood pressing up and your body pressing down, and you can feel all the more intensely, the way his length slides in and out of you. The tip kisses the button behind your front wall, and sweat begins to bead on your brow as pleasure courses through your body.
“Who do you belong to?” He asks, his voice pricking your ears, sending a bolt of heat between your legs. It’s not long before your thighs are trembling, barely able to keep you erect, even with the support of the desk beneath your chest. Pleasure builds viciously and violently, rousing a slur of bubbling moans to seep from your bottom lip.
“You, Leon,” you’re able to spit out. “You, you, you.”
“I wanna hear you say it.” His voice is altogether primal as he keeps his angry pace, diving in and out to the rhythm of your moans.
You muster the composure to string together the words, singing them aloud. “I belong to you, Leon. Only you.”
He pants as he fucks you through your high, drinking up every savage groan you let out, the way your walls clench around his cock, pulsing and squeezing him with every shock your climax brings. The stimulation is too much for him, and he finishes along with you, blurting out his typical sweet song, the praises he stifled in his chest finally rising to the surface.
As the two of you come down from your respective peaks, redressing and waiting for your hearts to calm, Leon plants a soothing kiss at your temple.
“I think I’m getting too old for this whole ‘roleplay’ thing, sweetheart,” he confesses in a whisper, pressing his lips onto yours, taking you in a kiss. When he pulls away, he cups your face, a thumb caressing your cheek. “I don’t think my back can take it.”
You roll your eyes, smoothing the lapels of his suit jacket, straightening the tie he so hates to wear. “Such a shame,” you quip mirthily. “Do you think Chris could keep up?”
tags: Leon Kennedy/Reader, any Leon but re9 in mind, smut, cisfem reader, p in v, pornwith plot, creampie, angst, hurt/comfort, marriage struggles, happy ending, public sex, rough sex, roleplaying as strangers
a/n: hopefully this doesn’t seem rushed I didn’t rly know how to end it lol. I’ll proofread later
Marriage is a lot harder than you and Leon thought it’d be. But with the help of a couples counselor, a little idea from Leon, and a few cocktails with a “stranger,” you more than find your spark again.
—
—
—
No one really tells you that the first year of marriage is oftentimes the hardest.
You’d been with Leon for so long, neither of you thought making it courthouse-official would change much. You thought you were simply promoting each other from boyfriend-girlfriend to husband and wife.
But somehow, every struggle seemingly got promoted to something more legitimate, too. And ever since your honeymoon in Mallorca, your honeymoon phase is MIA, lost along with your luggage.
You’d outgrown his apartment, as nice as the place was. You agreed on that, at least. But you couldn’t agree on the best place in D.C. to settle down. Probably because you both hated the city itself, though neither of you would say it out loud. You’re pretty sure your realtor was about to fire you as clients the sixth time you changed your mind between an apartment, a townhome, and suburbia. You did eventually find the perfect home with a big backyard and a marble shower to boot, but moving house together was a whole other subject.
You wanted to hire movers, Leon didn’t. You shudder to remember the person you became when you dropped the ump-teenth box, and his sigh as he came to help (again) was all it took to send you over the edge of frustration. Not your proudest moment, for sure.
It also didn’t help that the DSO met his promotion to husband with a promotion to mentor. He’d just been starting to be able to leave work early every once in a while, and suddenly, he didn’t even have time to take his lunch break with you in the break room. Instead, you spent your first few months of marriage picking at your leftovers in your cubicle while you ate alone, eventually spent crying because you knew he wouldn’t be home until bedtime, too.
And because he got home late, you did most things alone. Pretty much everything except put away dinner, since you left it on the stove for him. You felt like you lived alone. And when he was there, you had to spend your time talking about boring, important things, like letters from the bank, when your family should come into town, which one of you left wet clothes in the washing machine, and how the hell you’ll ever be able to have a kid if he’s not present.
That last fight was really bad. But how could you blame yourself? You basically had a sexless marriage six months in. You were dying from sexual frustration which didn’t help anything, and you could safely guess he was too by how he matched your bitter tone.
You just didn’t have time. And when you finally did, one of you was either too exhausted, too mad at the other, or Leon was too afraid of bioweapon brain matter being under his nails from his last mission.
What a normal relationship you had.
The sarcastic thought made you chuckle under your breath without meaning to, and you felt Leon stir on his side of the bed.
“Hm?” he mumbled tiredly.
“Nothing.”
You blinked out into the darkness of your moonlit bedroom for a moment, and then you turned around to him, nuzzling your head onto his chest. His arm instinctively wrapped around you, his thumb tracing light circles on your side. You sighed into his touch, but there was a sadness around the edges of the sound. He always picked up on things like that.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” you lied. Another beat passed. Then, you simply told the truth. “I love you.”
His thumb stopped. You both realized it’d been a while since either of you said it outside of routine. Your heart ached, wondering how long you’d said it and really meant it.
He kissed your head before whispering into your hair, “I love you too,” and squeezing you tighter to him.
For the first night in a long time, you fell asleep somewhat content. You wondered if he did, too. You wondered why you couldn’t remember the last time that you did. You spent the next whole day trying to, and when you couldn’t, you wondered how it all went wrong. Finding no good answer, you called your friend who’d been married a lot longer than you and told her everything.
“This is actually really common, you know. Have you considered couples counseling?”
That’s what she had said to you, and that’s what you just said to Leon.
He looked at you from where you sat on the couch like you said you wanted a divorce. You tried again to swallow the lump in your throat as you watched something shatter in his blue eyes. Then, he looked down at his hands.
“Okay. If you think that’s what we need.”
You blinked at him. You really didn’t expect him to agree just like that. You’d really worked yourself up to have this conversation. To confront the fact that neither of you were happy. To say it out loud, to make it real. A brave act, and the first step on the path to fix it.
“Are you sure?” you squeaked.
Leon stood and hugged you tight, swaying with you in his arms as he held you like you might break.
“I’m sorry things have been so hard. I want us to be good again, too. So whatever you think will help, I’ll try.”
You hugged him back just as hard, and for the first time in a while, your release of tears held hope.
—
Your therapist is a godsend. Turns out, you both had a lot of baggage to unpack. Turns out, that’s easier to do together than alone. Not easy, but still easier at least.
In the past six months of therapy, you feel like you’ve learned just as much about each other and yourself as you had your whole relationship prior. Arguments have been traded for sit-down discussions, bitterness for tenderness, and at least two lonely nights a month have been traded for dates.
But still, every so often, you lie awake in bed despite your husband’s arms around you as he drifts off in sleep.
No one really tells you that even when things get better, you’ll still wish it didn’t take so much work.
You miss the before-times. The butterflies when you first met. When loving each other didn’t take the extra effort, as worth it as it was. Even though you’re happy again, you miss when everything was simple. You miss it terribly.
Maybe Leon wasn’t as asleep as you thought. A common occurrence. Still, you didn’t realize a tear had fallen ‘til he turned towards you and brushed it off your cheek.
“What’s wrong, baby?” He whispered, still maybe half asleep.
“Nothing,” you try, but a sniffle deceives you. Leon turns fully towards you, gathering your face into his chest. He speaks softly as he pets your hair.
“Tell me, it’s okay.”
You sigh and say it.
“Sometimes I miss the beginning. I miss when everything was easy.”
His hold tightens and he holds you there in the dark, firmly, keeping the cracks of your heart together with his strong arms in the way only he can.
“I know, baby. It’s alright. You can cry.”
You do, softly, and he holds you until you fall asleep.
Leon misses it, too.
The next day, he has an idea.
—
When he pitched this idea to you, you thought it was seriously corny. Possibly too corny for you to get into it, so much that you feared the hotel he booked in advance would go unused. Since when did he believe in your nonexistent improv skills? You were skeptical at best.
Then, you walked into this swanky restaurant and saw him sitting at the bar, swirling around a glass of whiskey as he sat alone in the amber light. Your heart pounded like a schoolgirl as you approached, leaving an empty seat in between you, pretending to ignore him as you waited for a bartender.
It really was like being strangers, meeting for the first time. And with every sideways glance he gave you, eyes raking down your exposed shoulders all the way down to your high heel shoes, your skin burned with anticipation.
Just as you got your first drink, he made the first move.
“Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so,” you acted. “Where do you work?”
“Classified.”
“Ooh, mysterious. Do you ask every woman that?” you asked sarcastically, pretending to pick apart his opening line the way you would any man at a bar.
“Only the beautiful ones.”
You kinda couldn’t believe that your blush was genuine. You took a long sip from your drink and swiveled your seat to face him. You took your turn to eye him up and down, your view settling on his silver wedding band still on his ring finger. It plucked your heart strings to know that even for this, he didn’t take it off. And that gave you an avenue to follow.
“More beautiful than your wife?”
Leon bit the inside of his cheek and smirked to hide the way he squirmed inside to find a good answer for that. Then he looked back at you as he answered slowly, measuring every word.
“My wife is the most beautiful woman in the world.”
“Then why are you here trying to chat me up?”
“Guess I can’t help staying out of trouble when someone like you sits next to me.”
“Someone like me..?”
He nodded once, his eyes darkening as he keeps them locked with yours. He looks painfully attractive, and you can’t help but to lean in.
“… And what kind of trouble are you trying to get into?”
“As much as you’ll possibly let me.”
—
You were right. The hotel was a total waste. A fleeting thought as Leon’s cock pounded into you over and over and over again right there in the restaurant bathroom.
You worried you’d break the poor marble countertop with how tight your hands gripped it with every thrust, trying desperately to hold onto anything to keep yourself up on your toes. But in fact, the only thing keeping you upright was Leon, with one bicep around your neck and his other hand tight over your mouth. You could feel your drool seeping through his fingers, but you didn’t exactly have the capacity to be embarrassed about it. Not when your cunt was weeping onto the tile between your feet.
“Keep it down for me. Don’t wanna get us caught, yeah?”
All you could do was whine as the deep rumble of his voice went straight to your core, as if you could even get anymore turned on right now.
“Look in the mirror, look at me. Keep watching me fuck your brains out, baby.”
The sight in the reflection was insane. You looked insane. Your hair was a mess, your carefully done makeup was smeared and running from your watery eyes, your sexiest little black dress pulled down below your breasts and up above your ass where he railed you from behind. And he looked impossibly hot, his bangs falling over his face and darkening his expression, his unbuttoned dress shirt barely hanging onto him, his muscles taught from the force he railed you with.
Your eyes went wide as a knock came from the other side of the door, but he didn’t miss a beat. “Occupied,” he said firmly, not even for a second stopping his assault on your pussy.
Somehow, your senses being put on alert heightened everything, and as your heart rate soared, your legs started to wobble beneath you. But Leon can read you like no other, and didn’t miss the opportunity to change the angle and hit right where would make you see stars.
You couldn’t help but to chant his name regardless of it being muffled under his hand. “Yeah?” he asked in response. “You like doing this in public? Letting me fuck you anywhere? That gonna make you cum?”
You nodded your head fervently, toes curling in your tights even before he reached down to catch your clit between his calloused digits.
“Then do it. Cum on my cock right here for me. Let everyone know who’s in here making you scream.”
And you did at once at those words, getting lightheaded from the force of it as you gasped for air through your nose as he muzzled you tighter to dampen the violent and embarrassingly high-pitched sounds that left your throat, blurry vision on the mirror as he chanted, “look at me, look at me,” and then he too choked on his words as they changed to, “you’re s’tight, fuck, fuck, let me cum inside, let me fill this tight pussy up, please, please.”
You reached behind yourself to hold him tight by the hip, urging him to stay buried deep in you in lieu of words until his thrusts broke apart into a stutter.
You felt him empty within you as you came down from your own high just in time to see him fall apart clearly in the mirror. His cock felt hot and heavy inside as he pulsed there, groaning roughly into your ear with every aftershock. Just as he was done, before either of you had any opportunity to catch your breath, he pulled out and spun you around to catch your mouth in a kiss that was all tongue and passion, his hands roaming all over your body like he’d never hold you again, cupping your face and ass all at once.
You spent minutes like that until you finally broke apart, resting your forehead against his as you panted, wondering if it was the cocktails or him that had you so dizzy.
—
You were dying of boredom in your cubicle by the time your lunch break hit. You made a circle from the break room back to your desk to grab your lunch from the fridge, and then unpacked it as you scrolled on your phone.
You decided to text your husband. He was off on a mission, so you know he won’t answer anytime soon if at all, but you can’t help it. You miss him terribly.
You: Date night when you get back?
And then a few minutes later:
You: I haven’t worn my black dress in a while.
You eat your sandwich with a grin, pressing your thighs together at the memories. Then, to your surprise, your phone buzzes and comes alight.
Leon: Anything to see you in that.
You: I know what you’d do to see me out of it, too
Leon: Anything.
You: All you have to do is come home safe
Leon: Can’t wait to come back to the most beautiful woman in the world.
part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi
context you're Nanami's annoying, younger neighbor turned best friend. you just met all of his other friends for the first time at a party, leaving them with a lasting impression.
warnings/disclaimers everyone is aged up 18+ / suggestive content / crude lang. / encroaching NSFW territory / pictures are not mine / i do not use ai, but if you notice a pic i use repeatedly is ai, pls lmk / reverse harem
who r u rooting for?
gojo
shoko
geto
nanami
choso
geto + gojo
can't we have them all??
Voting ended onAug 5
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PLS READ: My tag list is getting difficult to keep up with, especially now that I have two multipart SMAUs, so I created a google form! Even if you're on the tag list already, it would REALLY help out if you filled out the tag list form :) I'm sorry for any and all inconvenience.
Tw | Your kid with the Lads guys travels back in time (Seperate) | Pre-relationship | Angst (I was feeling more angsty when writing Caleb and Valkos so erm... sorry?)
Wc | 6k
Note | Its been ages and trust I'll get back onto the lookism fanfic after this <3 Erm if you guys like it, should I make this into a mini-series of different events connected to this one? My inbox is open :)
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Xavier | ───── ༺ ♰ ༻ ─────
Light shutters through the windowpanes as a light breeze sails lazily through the room.
Your colleague, Xavier, had invited you over for takeout, though you had an inkling it was more than just that. You’d been skirting around each other for weeks now, the pining and avoidance becoming more and more intolerable as each day passes.
You were starting to dread the moments where he’d disappear for weeks at a time, his soft golden glow disappearing like a forgotten memory; you kept wondering if this would be the time he didn’t come back.
“Here,” Xavier murmurs quietly, passing you a bowl of chicken and noodle soup before sitting down with his own, the sound of a can cracking open filling the space. You felt… uncomfortable, as if your skin was on too tight.
“You aren’t going to up and disappear on me again, are you?” you ask jokingly, eyes darting to the side as you try to swallow the true fears trying to claw themselves out of your throat.
Xaviers hand clutched around the can halts just before his mouth, his body almost flinching back into the plushness of the sofa. You curse yourself for making the comment, “Just because you usually disappear for a few days after we do things like this,” you rub at the strands of hair on the back of your necks, now avoiding his eyes. “Just a quirk I noticed.”
You try your best to laugh it off, almost afraid that this’ll cause him to back of again, and you can admit, you can admit that you’d hate that.
You’d very much despise if he pushed himself away again.
“I-,” he stars, his tone unsure, before a bright, piercing light explodes across his living room. The light blinds you as you flinch away, barely noticing as Xaviers thrown back through the wall of his living room.
You wince, rubbing at your eyes as you look around the tarnished room. A human-sized hole appears at the wall between Xaviers living room and bedroom. You rush forward before toppling over a small creature.
“Shit-” you curse as you fall on the small creature that had invaded Xavier’s home.
“Mummy, you shouldn’t swear,” a small, adolescent voice says from beneath you. You jump up in shock, eyes wide as you stare at the golden hues of hair on the little boy’s head, your very own eyes staring back at you.
“M-mummy?” you stutter out, backing away from the strange child before you. The child laughs, “That’s your name, silly. I always call you mummy.”
You almost combust.
I have a child. If this is real my child has literally time travelled somehow what the heck. Who’s the father??
That makes you pause. He doesn’t particularly look like Xavier; his hair is a tad lighter, and he seems to have taken on most of your features.
Your shoulders slump slightly. With Xavier’s current behaviour, you’re almost sure the boy isn’t his child. Which means it either didn’t work our or it never happened in the first place.
You can’t help but smile at the child sadly, your hand coming down to squeeze his. You’re sure this bizarre anomaly was the work of a wanderer or protocore, so you’ll have to figure out a way you can send him back safely.
You kneel down so you’re face to face with your child, “Mummy’s brains gone a bit funny, Star. Can you bonk your name in her head again?” The child pouts, “It’s Leo, silly. I’m yours and papa’s little Star-Lion.”
Leo.
“Huh,” a sleepy voice murmurs, “Who’s this?” Xavier walks through the hole in the wall, coming up behind you to stare down at Leo.
Leo’s eyes brighten as he rushes towards the older male. “Papa!” He wails, clutching at his legs. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”
Your heart lightens only to drop again. Xavier looks like he’s in pain.
“How long?” You ask Leo, tone hard despite your efforts not to hurt the likely traumatised child.
Leo pushes away from Xavier, shaking his head, ‘no’s’ escaping his lips over and over again as fat crocodile tears drip down his cheeks. “Papa’s a liar! I hate him! He said he would come back and read me a story, but it’s been years.” He rushes to you, his hands clamping at your jumper as he cries into you.
“How old were you when you saw him last, do you remember, Leo?” you ask softly, hand running through his golden strands. He lifts his hand up.
Two.
You swallow.
“Gosh, that was so long ago, wasn’t it Leo? Let’s do some numbers; do you know how many years it’s been now, up to your current age? Be a smart boy for mummy, yeah?”
He sniffles as his face scrunches. “I think it’s been four- no five years?”
Your heart shutters.
Xavier drops to his knees beside Leo, his hands coming up to cradle his arms. “I’m so sorry Leo, I promised I’d be back, it just took a very long time. I’m back now, okay?”
Leo sniffs angrily but nods reluctantly anyway. “Can I stay here with you? Our town is ruined. There’s lots of crumbly buildings and hardly anyone lives there anymore. And the sky split open and these weird things came out, and nothing’s been happy since.”
Xavier’s face becomes crestfallen, as if he knows exactly what Leo’s talking about. You straighten your shoulders, done with skirting whatever this is between you. Xavier can either sort his disappearing rubbish out or he can stay the hell away.
“You can stay here with me, Star,” you murmur into his hair, patting his head softly. You glance up at Xavier, who’s still standing there, unmoving, barely even breathing.
He suddenly jolts to life, dropping to his knees in front of you and your newly acquired child. “What I was doing was wrong, and apparently useless anyway. I’ll be here, I promise I’ll be here, always.”
Leo peeks up apprehensively, his little finger slowly reaching towards his father’s hand. “Pinky promise?” Xavier’s lips pull up into a haunting smile, his pinkie wrapping around Leos so gently it was as if he was afraid he was made of dust.
“I pinkie promise.” He looks up at you as the words escape his lips, a promise, a determination entering his eyes that’d never brushed them before.
It was a look of promise.
Zayne | ───── ༺ ♰ ༻ ─────
Patter.
Patter.
Patter, Patter, Patter.
The storm pelts against the windows, the torrential rain only a spur onto your volatile emotions. You were honestly sick of Zayne’s walls; the icy exterior he still can’t seem to remove around you.
You’d been childhood friends for goodness’ sake. You knew you hadn’t really departed on the best of terms considering the involuntary freezing fiasco, but it was just that; involuntary.
And if that wasn’t what was keeping Zayne from you, well, you were truly hopeless then.
You stew for a few seconds longer before your courage and determination resonate within you. Storming towards Zayne’s office, you knock, wating to hear his monotone ‘enter’ before storming in.
He doesn’t bother looking up from his computer, the tap-tap of his fingers against the keyboard not stopping despite his new company.
You wait. You say nothing.
He gives you a brief look before looking back at his work. “Do you need something? We don’t have any appointments together for another few weeks.”
Your heart can’t help but quench at the words. You suddenly feel defeated, worthless almost.
“Really? So, I can only see you on a doctor patient basis now, is it? If that’s how you really feel-” you cut yourself off, shrugging as you scoff at him. You don’t notice his hands freezing against his keyboard, nor his very psyche halting unnaturally still.
“That’s not how I-” He shakes his head, looking down at his scarred hands.
“It’s not what? What is your issue with me, still? How long has it been now – what – three months? And you still can’t bare to even talk to me like a close friend. What is it? Did I do something to offend you?” Your eyes are almost crazed, but you’re sick of the avoidance, the walls, the feeling like you aren’t good enough for him.
Zayne stands from his chair, hand raking nervously through his hair. “No, of course not, I-”
A flash of blue, and skrttt of ice breaking echoes around the small, enclosed space. Shards of ice spread rapidly across the floor and walls of Zayne’s office, both your breaths coming out in smoky puffs.
A small girl, maybe seven or eight, lies curled up in a ball in the centre of the room, her limbs enclosed in ice. Louds sobs wreck through her body as she struggles to escape the clutches of the cold entity.
You and Zayne take one awkward glance before rushing at the girl encased in ice. Pressing his hand against the ice, Zayne shatters it into splinters before successfully freeing the hysterical child.
She looks up at Zayne, only to start letting out even louder and more hysterical sobs, her entire body quivering with emotional anguish.
“Daddy – you just collapsed – you stopped breathing! You were bleeding so bad, and Mummy said your heart was frozen,” her next words are incomprehensible as she sobs in Zayne’s arms; Zayne, who has been frozen since the word ‘Daddy’ left her lips.
Zayne… Zayne has a kid. And she looks so, so much like him.
And Zayne is dead, in whatever branch of the universe the girl comes from, Zayne is dead, and his own daughter had witnessed his heart freeze over and his breath escape in one final puff from his lips.
Just what type of dreadful future is awaiting us?
Her teary eyes don’t notice you there, flicking over you dismissively, and you finally realise the haunting truth in front of you; she isn’t your child.
Zayne had a child with another woman. He… kept on hating you… kept on pushing you away, even so far into the future.
A future that is now one of only peril.
Zayne clears his throat, doctor mode finally in motion as he checks over the girl. “What happened to your mum?” he asks as he makes sure she’s okay, while you just stand there in the corner watching this bizarre, haunting view.
“Mummy got swept away as I came here,” she sniffles before looking back at you, her brows pinching as she gets lost in her thoughts before- “Mummy! There’s mummy, she must have come with me,” she frowns again, completely ignoring your mental combustion at her words. “Your hair’s a different colour though.”
Zayne looks as if the very world has fallen into his hands, as if all his worries have escaped his body, yet he looks almost… guilty.
“Do you remember your name?” Zayne asks smoothly, patting a hand atop her head as he rises. “It’s Jasmine. And you’re daddy,” she points at Zayne. “And you’re Mummy. And we lived in a nice house on top of a hill, and you were married.”
You raise an eyebrow, shocked. “We were what?” Jassmine sniffles again, “You had the rings and that big party from the photos.”
You gulp, avoiding Zayne’s eyes.
We were married.
He places a gentle hand on her shoulder, guiding her away from the office. You follow after them as he takes her to his car and settles her inside before closing the door. He turns to you, his eyes severe.
“I think we should stay together for a bit, while she gets used to this timeline again, and then we need to figure out what’s going on.” He finishes before turning away, and you clench your jaw.
Zayne stops suddenly before swerving around to face you again. “About what you said earlier, we should talk more later. You were right, I was afraid, and I don’t want to be.”
You look down at the floor, foot grazing against the gravel as you avoid his eyes. It is what you wanted…
“I know you might think that I’m doing this only for Jasmine, but I’m doing it for you. For us. You were right, I was afraid of letting you in, but not because I didn’t want you to be, but because I was scared of what would happen if I did.”
He lets out a sigh.
“No more walls.” He looks at you expectantly, because he was right. You’d also had your own particular walls up.
“No more walls.”
Rafayel | ───── ༺ ♰ ༻ ─────
The seagulls were at it again, chirping and quirking outside Rafayel’s villa as if they owned the place.
You were snappy and irritable today, avoiding Rafayel for as long as you can before he sends another flurry of intent and demanding text messages your way.
You were honestly on the verge on quitting being his bodyguard; you had an allude to fifty different excuses and you were more determined every day to use them.
Today was definitely that day. You were finally done with Rafayel’s rubbish.
He would spout on and on about you never understanding Lemurians or the pain they’d felt at the hands of humans, and that you’d never understand him or his woes with his race, that this was a burden he had to face alone and that you were of no help on the matter, so you were not on a need-to-know basis.
Yeah, you could admit that you couldn’t, that those disputes and cultural differences just came with being close to a whole different species. You had just thought that the close territory you’d been encroaching on with each other would mean that he’d at least accept you into his life.
You were still crowding on the outside, a step away from the circle as you watched him claim the burden of his species and not even trust you to just stand by his side and support him and help him with anything.
You didn’t need to feel the burden of his woes to know they were his woes; you could tell just by looking at him. You just wanted to help, to lessen the sains of Ever and to help preserve the last of his species.
You just wanted to share his burden; in any way it would help, should it just be as a pillar or rock for him to lean or weep on.
You were starting to love him, and it was starting to destroy you.
Your steps are hesitant as you enter Rafayel’s art studio, a white, formal resignation letter clutched tightly in your hand.
Rafayel’s bright tune hums through the air as his paintbrush flicks over his painting, his eyes focused as he hunches from his rather tall stool.
“Cutiee~ you’re here,” he hums, not looking away from his current art project. You stalk up to his sitting form, almost thrusting the letter into his face. Rafayel scowls as he looks down at the envelope, snatching it out of your hands with a grimace before ripping open the letter.
“You’re quitting?! Cutie, why, you can’t leave me,” Rafayel pouts and acts almost childish, but you notice the panic rush across his eyes, the tight set of his shoulders and the muscle twitch in his cheek.
He hadn’t expected this.
“We just aren’t compatible as employee and employer anymore, Rafayel,” you state plainly, arms crossing over your chest. Rafayel side eyes you, “So we can be more than employee and employer?” he teases, yet as you shake your head ‘no’, his face blanks.
He jumps down from the stool, eyes zeroed in on your face, “Why?”
You scoff. “You know why. We just aren’t compatible in any way, even as friends. It would be better if we parted ways. We’ll never truly understand one another so that means any type of relationship we could have would always be shallow and without any depth. I won’t be suffering those types of dynamics in my life any longer. Thank you for your time and employment,” you say placidly before swerving around to leave, taking one unsteady step at a time.
Yet, before you can reach the door, Rafayel’s hand clenches around your forearm as he forces you back around to face him. “What do you mean shallow?” he demands, and you realise that this is going to be one of the rare times Rafayel actually takes you seriously.
“You really don’t get it, do you,” you let out a derisive scoff as Rafayel’s eyebrows pinch, confused. “Well, I know you think that I’ll never understand your struggles, that I’ll never fit into your world. Well excuse me if I start to believe that and permanently remove myself from the equation.”
Rafayel looks scared now, no, he looks terrified. As if the worst was happening all over again, as if he was losing you again. And he looks like he knows it’s his fault this time.
That it’s on him.
“No, cutie, I don’t believe that at all, I-”
Rafayel’s cut off by a loud ripple echoing through the air. Not long after, a splash of glowing, bioluminescent water coats the floor of the studio. A small toddler stews about the soaked floor, heart-quenching sobs raking his body violently.
He jolts up in terror, eyes wide and crazed as his pink-blue gaze darts around the room before pausing on Rafayel. “Daddy!” the boy wails out, scrambling up onto his little legs as he throws himself at Rafayel.
Rafayel looks down at the boy in shock, his limbs frozen as his own eyes lock onto the scales scattered across the boy’s neck and shoulders. “Daddy?”
The boy’s scrunched face looks up, “It’s Kai, Daddy. I thought me an mama would never see you again. Those bad men took you in that glass cage and hurt mummy. She was just on the floor with red paint on her chest and she wouldn’t wake up.” Kai sobs even harder, his hands clutching at Rafayel’s pant legs with no intention of letting go.
“Isn’t that your mummy?” You freeze as Rafayel points at you.
He’s… assuming I’m the mother?
You try your best to ignore the red peaking through your ears as you gaze down at Kai, approaching him with fast yet steady steps, kneeling beside him as he scrutinizes you. His eyes widen, “Mummy! You’re awake! You weren’t waking up when I shook you earlier.” He grabs your hand in a surprisingly strong grip as he drags you into the ‘family hug’.
Rafayel’s eyes star unblinkingly into your own, “Me and cutie are here now, Kai. We aren’t going anywhere.”
You suppose that means your resignation letter has been rejected.
Sylus | ───── ༺ ♰ ༻ ─────
The N109 zone was such a dark, rotting cesspool of the worst of the worst.
You were finding it hard to believe Sylus was one of them; to you at least. You just wouldn’t admit it. He was still a criminal at the end of the day, and that did not resonate with you or your job.
Gosh, just having the hunter’s association find out you were in contact with the leader of Onychinus would ruin you; your career would be over, and you had no doubt about being arrested, too.
So, despite the rocky start and the smooth sailing now, you were still hesitant to push things further. What if you made the wrong choice? What if it wasn’t worth it?
What if you… aren’t good enough for him?
You just don’t know where to stand, where or when to move forward.
How to move forward.
Which was why the impending conversation was not something you wanted to happen and were currently trying to find a way to discretely escape Sylus’s base.
“Where are you going, sweetie?” A drawling voice calls from behind you, causing you to freeze at the window you were currently halfway through, your right leg dangling down on the other side of it.
“Erm, away?” You reply sheepishly, trying to discreetly inch away still. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as a swirl of red mist wraps around your form and flies you back onto the living room floor.
“And why are you doing that, sweetie?” he asks, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. He always seems so… unbothered, so unmoved by your meddling ways.
You swallow nervously, “Because… I just think its best if we keep this… relationship… strictly to business.” You don’t notice the flicker of sadness flash across his eyes or the minor clench in his left hand as he reaches out to grab you.
His eye lights up as he stares straight into your soul.
Devour him.
You don’t want this, you don’t want him to know what your thinking, what your scared off when involving him. “What’s wrong?” He states it plainly.
You swallow, “I just don’t think going any further than we have already will benefit us, or anyone really. We aren’t kindred spirits at all, if anything we’re complete opposites and I…” You cut yourself off, wincing as Sylus scowls in confusion.
“I jut know you’ll regret going there with me. I’m… not like you.”
“You think you aren’t good enough for me?” He hits the nail on the head, and you wince, avoiding his eyes. He can’t help but let out a scoff. “You think I would have gone as far as to get you into the N109 Zone, go through all that trouble of getting you to resonate with me, and spending all this time with you, if I thought you were anything but the most important person in my life?” His hands cradle your neck.
“No, sweetie-”
The security alarms blare across the room, loud and deafening. Sylus snatches you against him as he lunges across the room, away from the swirling black orb that’d appeared behind where you’d previously been standing.
A swirl of black and red mist burst out of the orb before two small bodies collapse on Sylus’s living room floor; two young girls with hair as white as snow and eyes as blood as rubies. There’s no mistaking it; they are Sylus’s kids.
They sob and cling against each other, eyes wide with terror as tremors rock through their tiny bodies. They look hesitantly around the room before locking their eyes on you and Sylus, cornered in by the far back wall.
“Mummy!” They scream in unison, their tiny bodies catapulting into your frozen arms. Their tiny hands clench and pull at you hysterically, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around them.
Me and Sylus had… kids?
You swallow as you look over your shoulder at Sylus, who’s gazing on this scene before him with a mixed look of wonder and amazement.
He looks… almost hopeful.
“What happened?” You ask apprehensively, your worried gaze passing over the young girls. They couldn’t be any older than three, and to look so trauma-addled already…
“Raven and you went away with the baddie, so I went to go find you, but I got lost. Then a bunch of baddies got hold of me and they put us in a glass box. Daddy came and saved us,” she peaks over at Sylus, her body freezing, as if only just noticing his presence behind you.
“Daddy is here! But he was on the floor when we last saw him, and mummy you were really, really sad cause he jumped in front of you when that baddie came at you so quickly.” Sylus clears his throat as he kneels beside you, bringing you and the girls into his embrace.
Sylus had died. He had died protecting you.
With that, and everything he had let out seconds before the twins had abruptly appeared in his living room, you suddenly felt sure for the first time.
As if this had been the single moment of clarity, of assurance, to believe he could actually… love someone like you; someone who is so different from him.
Sylus leans over to whisper in your ear. “See, sweetie? We are true kindred spirits.”
You swallow, giving him a hesitant smile back.
“Eugh, Ari, they’re at it again,” Raven says to her sister, who you now know the name off. Ari gives a little teary giggle. “Mummy always gets cooties from daddy. They disappear together at night, and mummies always tired the next day.”
You choke on your own spit, face flashing a deep red as Sylus lets his usual rich-man chuckle escape. “Hear that, sweetie?” You give him a light punch to the arm, ignoring the feel of the hard muscles.
You can’t look him in the eyes, too flustered to do anything but stare at the girls… who came from sex.
I’m… going to have sex with…Sylus. Bossman Sylus, big-man Sylus… beefy Sylus-
You cut your thought trail off before it can go wandering too fare in unforeseen waters. You peek a quick glance at Sylus, scowling as he smirks at you knowingly.
“No excuses now, sweetie.”
Oh no.
Caleb | ───── ༺ ♰ ༻ ─────
Caleb was alive.
He’d been alive the entire time.
You still couldn’t get over it, even months later, even after the touring chip fiasco.
He still acted so… nonchalant about it, so dismissive of your worries, despite him still being under their control.
You were afraid to wake up one day and see him gone, to see him vanish from this plain of earth, never to be seen again.
You just can’t do it anymore, just can’t keep watching himself go so far… and for what?
You death stare the cocktail can in front of you, fingers tapping agitatedly against Caleb’s kitchen counter.
“What’s up, Pips?” Caleb calls from the bathroom, his toothbrush hanging by the side of his mouth as he leans casually against the doorframe.
“Why do you still push me away?”
He stills for a second before taking the toothbrush out of his mouth and disappears back into the bathroom. A few seconds later he’s storming over to you with a frown on his face.
“What do you mean, Pips? We’re here together, aren’t we?” he asks, his brows pinched. You let out a scoff, rolling your eyes as you abruptly stand up from the breakfast stool.
“Yeah, we just hand around like we’ve always done, skirting around the big ass elephant in the room.” Caleb’s jaw clenches, and he opens his mouth to argue.
You shove your hand up, silencing him before he can even speak. “No, I need to say this. I’m never gonna know if one day I’ll wake up and learn you’ve gone and exploded again. Or worse; that you’ve gone and actually died.”
Caleb tugs at his hair, eyes blank and empty. “What do you want me to do? I’m a fleet colonel, bad things happen. It’s just part of the job.”
You let out a derisive laugh. “Oh please, you know damn well that’s not what I’m talking about!” You can’t help but let your voice raise an octave.
Caleb crowds into you, his eyes harsh and angry. “Then what is it, huh? That you just can’t stand that I’m trying to protect you? That I’m trying to keep Ever off your reckless back, so you don’t go and die or worse, become a fucking experiment again!”
You flinch back, hurt bleeding into your eyes as your mouth pinches. You can feel the tears starting to gather at your eyes, but you refuse to show any weakness around him in this state.
“So that’s what you really think of me, huh? Just a reckless, annoying little girl you have to watch so she doesn’t go and get herself killed. What are you, my watchdog now?” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head as you create space between you. “But I get it. Even after all this time, you still can’t get over that, can you? Despite all the hints, the obvious hints. Well, you know what, Caleb?” You spit out, eyes blazing on his harsh ones.
“I get it. You’ll never be able to get over that, clearly, despite me saying that I don’t care! -”
A heavy mechanical hum fills the air as you flinch backwards, your eyes swerving to the cosmic rip in the middle of Calebs kitchen. The space ripples as the sound of cosmic rips scratch across the room, and a young boy, maybe eleven or twelve, appears outside the rift before it closes behind him.
He looks just like Caleb.
Caleb, who’s currently looking at the child with immense suspicion, until he says “Dad!” He says this wildly, almost crazed. “How are you here, you were- you were dead.”
You inhale audibly, eyes wide as they dart over to Caleb, who’s looking down at this pre-teen with a mix of shock, wonder and anguish.
So, I was right. He went and got himself killed just like I thought he would. Just like I’d always feared.
Caleb winces, as if hearing your thoughts as he watches multiple emotions flash across your face.
“And so were you, Mum.” This time he turns to you. You let out a choking sound as you stare at Caleb with wide eyes. This was your child…together.
“You aren’t really them, are you?” He asks, watching the to of you sadly. “You look so young compared to when I last saw you.”
You look at him sadly, “What happened to you?”
“Turns out I’ve got a cocktail mixture of dad’s evol and yours. Resonance makes a hefty power boost, you know? Made my gravity evol much stronger.” He pauses, scratching at his head. “Anyway, I was running away from the last few soldiers of Ever and accidently made a… erm, cosmic rift?” He rubs at the back of his head. “I’m not sure really. But I got sucked through it and then ended up here.”
Damn.
“How long have we been dead?” Calebs tone… it’s one you don’t hear often; it sends a shiver down your spine.
“About six months, give or take. I suppose I should be more shocked but I’m just… relieved, really.” He sounds so mature, yet you aren’t surprised with what he’d been through already.
“What’s your name?” you ask softly as you come near, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder before giving a tentative smile. “Ryke. My name is Ryke.”
“Well, Ryke. I think you should stay here with us for a while. Maybe we can… change our fate, so to speak,” Caleb suggests, and your son looks so relieved that you aren’t surprised with his quick nod.
Caleb looks over at you, his eyes… sadder.
“I hear you,” he says softly, finally. Words you had been waiting to hear for so long.
I hear you.
Valko | ───── ༺ ♰ ༻ ─────
Your apartment is cold, dreary almost.
You could almost taste the emotional turmoil in the air; your own emotional turmoil.
You were waiting on him now, Valko that is.
It had been a shock when he’d come out to you as a werewolf, but you’d accepted it to have been an integral part of him and loved it.
You love it still, really. Cuddling his fluffy tail between your legs as you fingers play and pinch with his plum-coloured ears.
You had such fond memories of Valko, yet he couldn’t accept you.
You were too human, to un-wolf like. Too other to him.
You were sure his family despised you, and for Valko, family meant everything. To him, it was clear that you weren’t worth the price of losing his family.
So, whatever. You weren’t going to be dragged along any longer, just because he was too hesitant to actually let you go. No, instead he was dragging you along like a good little sheep as you did what you were told; You were kind to his horrid cousins who laughed at your lack of smell sense. You were amicable to his horrid grandma who looked down on you for not being at the mans beck and call twenty-four seven.
You just sat there and took it like a little bitch, even if, yeah, he did stand up for you. He did tell them off. Yet, you could still feel the separation of your species. You could tell he’d never fully let you in, not really. So far, silence had been better than actually acknowledging what was wrong.
And you were sick of yourself, of your people pleaser nature, of letting people walk all over you and making excuses for it, for pretending nothing was going on.
But they were going on; your feeling of being an outsider, of always standing on the edge of the circle and never being invited into the middle.
You weren’t good enough to be in the middle.
You hear the front door open, yet you don’t bother turning from your seat as Valko enters into the main living space. You hear the clatter of his shoes, the rustle of his white shirt as he places his suit-jacket against the arm of your chair.
“Love, are you okay?” He asked, concerned. You clench your jaw, pointing to the chair opposite you as a gesture for him to sit down.
You were ready to get this over with.
“I think we should go our separate ways.”
Valko pauses, his broad shoulders flinching backwards before slumping. “I- Why?”
You look down at your nervously clasped hands. “Honestly, I could cope somewhat with your family’s hatred of me, I could. I can admit they you’re great in that regard, of defending me against them. But you… we’re two different species, Valko, and I feel like that’s something you can’t seem to get past, even after all this time.”
There, you’ve laid it out bare at his feet, like a ripe steak for the taking.
Valko swallows, “You mean so much to me, I don’t care about any of that, believe me, I-”
A static hum fills the air before a flashing purple light blinds the room in its vicious embrace.
A small boy, about three years old, lays shivering against the floor, his tiny, trembling body wrapped in a tight ball. His plum-coloured tail wraps protectively around his torso while his wolf ears quiver above his mop of purple hair.
Valko lets out a sharp inhale, to which the boy immediately reacts to. He jumps up, looking between you and Valko with wide, vicious eyes before he rushes at you, standing at your legs before he turns around and hisses at Valko.
“Leave Mama alone! You left her when you went with those bad men, and they took you into that silver cage. You can’t come back now!” The boy’s little fangs are borne still in Valko’s direction, who’s still with shock.
The boy looks almost rabid, and clearly extremely traumatised. And he’s your… son. With Valko.
Valko takes a few tentative steps forward, his neck bared in submission as he holds his hands up. “I didn’t want to leave your Mama. I love your Mama too much to have done that willingly.”
You freeze, eyes wide with shock at his admission. Valko, he, well he loves you? You almost wouldn’t have believed it, if it weren’t for the look of adoration and wonder in his eyes as he looks at the boy and you.
The boy scowls. “Mama did say ‘Orion, your Papa will make his way back to us,’ but you never did! You just disappeared and Mama only kept saying about you being in the sky!”
Valko… died?
“I promise I’m here now, Orion. For you and your Mama. I’ll always be here, whenever and wherever you need me. I promise it on my very soul; I would never leave you willingly. Never.”
Orion scowls, but it seems less angry, more apprehensive.
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
He looks straight at you when he says this, promising to always be there, to never leave you because of you not being a werewolf.
To… accept you as you are, as you have of him.
I promise, he says with his eyes, I love you too much to ever stand being apart from you.
Leon Kennedy vs Chris Redfield with a chronically ill partner
Leon would be all in on comforting you, emotionally and physically. When you’re sick in bed he makes sure the sheets are all fresh and you have more pillows than any one person could ever use. He brings you your favorite snacks, sits with you and watches whatever you want. He holds you when you need to cry, whether it’s from pain or frustration. There’s no complaints or cringes when dealing with nasty symptoms, just soothing words and a damp cloth cleaning your face as he peppers your clammy forehead with kisses.
The only word to accurately describe Chris dealing with all your medications, appointments, and treatments is anal. Everything is refilled a week early in case of delays, and he has no problem fighting with insurance on the phone when they try and deny something that’s been working for months. No, you are absolutely not skipping your PT exercises because you’re tired today. “That’s when you need it the most. Now get up, we’re going to the gym.” There’s no arguing with him, all doctors orders will be followed to the letter. He won’t stand for doctors who don’t take you seriously, although that becomes a much less prevalent issue once he starts tagging along to your appointments. Just his energy in the room, at most a stern look, is enough to make them listen.
