Roommate! Valko’s heightened senses leave you no privacy.
Part 2 coz of popular demand 👅, find part 1 here
NSFW, minors DNI
You couldn’t have imagined this happening in a million years.
With your roommate’s cock on full display before you, springing up to hit his belly button the second it was freed from its confines, you would have easily mistaken the mouth-watering sight for a dream.
Then Valko tapped the head against your clit, pulling you back to reality, sending a delicious shiver running up both your spines at the bare contact. He smirked down at you, eyebrows raised.
“Giving out already?”
“N-No.”
But all you could focus on was how thick his dick looked. The fat mushroom head looked like it could impale you, making your throat go bone dry. You were definitely going to have to put in work to take all of that.
“Good. Eyes on me now, pup.”
He grabbed your thighs, yanking them up into a mean mating press. He leaned in impossibly close, claiming your lips in a feverish kiss– dizzying enough that you almost missed his cock pressing up against your folds.
Almost. There was no mistaking the way his massive length began to split your tiny hole apart. But just as he caught against your tight ring and started to push through, his tip slipped, sliding forward to drag over your clit instead.
“Fuck,” Valko groaned under his breath, losing his mind at the way your bare pussy felt against him. He knew he was fucked when he thought about the real deal gripping him instead.
“C'mon babygirl, I know you can take it. F'me, pretty please?”
He sounded so sweet you could've mistaken him for a kid asking for candy, except he didn't give you a choice. Grabbing the base of his dick, he forcefully sank into your pussy while the poor thing struggled and stretched to take him in fully.
You tried to ground yourself by gripping his shoulders, nails dragging against his skin and probably drawing blood.
Right as you felt his blunt tip grazing your cervix, you were sure you couldn't take any more. A whimper caught in Valko's throat, but somehow, he managed to push even deeper, driving past your limit. With one last thrust, he bottomed out completely, leaving you both moaning into each other's mouths at the feeling.
He cradled the back of your head, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good job, baby.”
A sharp squeal tore from your throat as he suddenly rammed into you hard.
“S-sorry, I couldn't help myself. You just- fuck. You feel too good.”
He couldn't get enough of it. Barely giving you time to adjust, his hips started moving on their own, snapping into your wet heat. Your body would have been thrown back if not for his unyielding grip pinning you to him. “ Take it–.You did this on purpose, didn’t you, pup? Wanted my attention, wanted me to ruin this perfect little cunt.”
Valko's filthy words did more to you than you’d care to admit, pussy involuntarily clenching around him.
You heard his breath hitch, hips stuttering, "Shit, do that again."
And he snapped into you even harsher, "Do that again," he snarled, repeating himself, getting desperate with the way he rutted into you.
And that was your final undoing, and your body went limp. He groaned as your pussy impossibly tightened around him. He held you through it, watching you babble nonsense while your sticky release dripped down where you were connected.
And this also sent Valko over the edge, teeth gritting together as his dick pulsed inside you, shooting his hot load in ropes.
And before you could register it, you felt something bulbous at the base of his cock press up against your already struggling hole.
Your eyebrows scrunched together, confused at the foreign feeling.
Roommate! Valko’s heightened senses leave you no privacy.
NSFW, minors DNI
part two here.
You sighed, melting back into the couch and fiddling with the TV remote. You were mindlessly scrolling through channels, barely paying attention as your entire focus was undeniably between your legs.
You pressed your thighs together, chasing that much needed pressure from the vibrator you'd previously shoved up your cunt.
You bit the inside of your cheek, your face burning up at the depravity of doing this in broad daylight– particularly in the living room. Knowing your roommate, Valko, could walk in at any second.
But you reassured yourself that the vibrating toy was meant to be discreet. Even if your luck turned out bad enough for him to join you, he would have no idea. Still, you prayed you wouldn't be put in that situation.
Ovulation was particularly hard on you this time around. With the entire morning and afternoon spent in bed, and still feeling insatiable, this was your last resort if you had any hope of getting up for the day.
Sighing at the feeling of your pussy involuntarily clenching, you tried to get your focus back on the screen. But suddenly, your heart dropped to your ass at the sound of a door clicking open. Heavy footsteps rang through the hallway, and a giant figure finally came into view.
It was Valko, of course, sporting his usual playful grin. “Yo, I was wondering if–” He was about to move closer when he stopped dead in his tracks, nostrils flaring as his Adam's apple visibly bobbed with a gulp.
Fuck, he didn't notice, did he? There's absolutely no way.
“W-what's wrong?” You tried to calm your nerves.
“Nothing,” he breathed out, shoulders tight as he took careful steps toward you, pausing a moment too long before joining you on the couch.
The cushions dipped noticeably with his weight, his gaze fell onto the TV. “Watcha watching?”
You were laying down on your back, your legs folded back to give him space. Because of that, your pussy was right there, inches away from his hand resting at his side.
“U-uh, nothing. I couldn't decide.”
“Mhm, want me to help?” Valko looked at you, his deep voice coming off breathier than usual, eyes holding yours with an insinuation that felt like way more than just about goddamn TV channels.
“Yeah.” And you came– messy, the kind where you had to fight your eyes from rolling back, yet you couldn't help your brows scrunching together. And you did all of this while holding his gaze. You noticed his pupils visibly dilate as he snarled under his breath.
“You’re insane, pup.”
One of his massive hands wrapped around your ankle, effortlessly dragging your entire body even closer to him as he turned his frame to fully face you. Hovering over you now, he ran his hands up your sides before gripping your hips.
“Tsk, you know I can do a better job than that thing.”
He immediately tugged your shorts off with your help, groaning as the scent of your arousal grew stronger. Without thinking, he shoved his nose against your pussy, separated by nothing but the flimsy fabric of your underwear.
“What are yo– ngh!” He shut you up with a hard kiss to your clit through the lace.
After a few moments of him inhaling deeply, whimpering like he was drunk off your scent, he moved back just to tug your underwear aside, growling at the toy still pulsing inside you. He gripped its base and pulled it out entirely with a wet squelch, leaving you whining at the loss.
He didn't let you miss it for long though. It was immediately replaced by him stuffing you full with his fingers– thicker, longer, and curved to hit spots you didn't know existed. Your slick was already running down his knuckles, but you couldn't help wondering how that massive bulge in his pants would feel pressing inside you instead.
Description: You’re ovulating and need Valko to fuck the ever living shit out of you. Multiple times. Yep, mhm.
WC: 4k
TITS. PECS. GIANT TITS. When the people (one sweetie pie anon ilysm) ask for more Valko, I PROVIDE MORE VALKO!!! 🫡🫶 (It’s summer and I fucking hate summer, LMAO. In my mindscape for this one, it’s fall/winter, mkay? He’d be the warmest good boy...)
HE’S BEEN CLEARED…ALL THEY HAVE TO DO IS...GIVE HIM THE F U C K BACK!!! AAWWWOOOOO!!!!! KEEP IT UP VALKYRIES!!!!!!!!
Cutesy, diabolically horny, then cutesy again. Enjoy! MWAH!
Cuddled up on the couch, you can’t stop pressing your face into the side of Valko’s warm, built chest. When relaxed, the large pad of muscle is like a firm, perfect pillow beckoning you for a well-deserved nap.
Although...it also beckons you to bite and lick him until he starts whimpering.
Despite humming happily to the feeling of you nuzzling against him, when pressing your nose into the side tissue of his muscle, a little too hard, he finally speaks up with a light laugh, “Pup…whatcha doin’?”
Grumbling, you squeeze his forearm that’s closest to you, sinking your nails into his skin, “Mmmph…s’cozy, shh.”
He lets out a more hearty laugh, flexing his forearm for you in the process, “Did you just shush me?”
“Mmhm…shhhh.” Your voice becomes a needy whine, turning your head to the side to rub your cheek on him, “…Ruining it…quiet, you.”
With his continuing sweet laugh that warms your heart, he still sounds a tad offended, “I’m ruining it!?” When you don’t reply and continue to smush your cheek into him, he simply watches, loving deeply when you behave in any capacity how he often does. He kisses the top of your head, “You’re so cute.” After waiting a second to see if you’d stop—you don’t, he hums again before speaking, “Do you know what today is, doll?”
You shake your head no, using it as an excuse to keep rubbing on him. After, you bring your face full frontal back into the side of his pec, “Mmm, mm-mm. Shh!”
He laughs again, brushing away some stray hairs of yours splayed across his chest, “Just about day fourteen of your cycle.”
You release a small groan into him, a little frustration rising that he won’t just let you have your fun without a bit of a pestering and a tease, “Mmm, so?” Your voice is muffled due to your mouth—your whole face—being actively pressed against him.
“So…” He waits for your reaction.
“Oh—oh.” You lift your head up quickly, looking at him with bleary eyes from having them closed for so long, “Can you—!?” He knows your cycle better than you do. While helpful, it left little information to the imagination, and he can always sense any changes in your behavior before you even process that they’re happening. It truly did make him the sweetest, best, and most informed boyfriend there ever was.
He grins, holding back another laugh while nodding, “Oh, yeah.” You stare at him a bit abashed, squeezing your legs together while you press your face back into him out of embarrassment and a rising, needy desire to have your face right back where it was, “Well, even if I couldn’t...” His voice lowers, “Look at you, pup.”
You groan again, “Mmm, you’re so big…so warm...just—shhh.” You playfully nip at his skin through his shirt.
He chuckles, using one of his hands to stroke your hair as you nuzzle him, “Okay, baby. Whatever you say…” All he needed to do was wait.
This wouldn’t end until you’re lifting his shirt up and shoving your face underneath. As soon as he goes to grab it and lift, you’re whining loudly, biting into his pec. “No! Mm-mm, leave me under here!”
He seals you back underneath his shirt and lets go, “Okay, okay! You’re so cute, pup. You can stay under there as long as you’d like.”
You press your lips into his skin, “Hmph…good.”
He’s like a furnace, so warm, and so, so, soft. His skin is electrifying to touch—whether it’s with your hands, your mouth, your body... You let your bottom lip drag across his skin, under and then over the side swell of his pec, your teeth grazing the space and closing—but not around his skin, like you’re teasing yourself as opposed to him.
When you feel him wiggle in his seat from your touch, you reach over and press your left hand against his hip that’s furthest from you, finally sinking your teeth into his skin. His voice is a reserved whimper, “H-hey—”
“Mmmph…” Needily, your mouth opens again, wide, sucking on his skin—taking however much of his muscle will fit into your mouth with a vacuumed pressure. While you suck, you let your tongue caress the skin that’s in your mouth.
His hips twitch again, “Pup—ngh—”
You shake your head gently, holding him in your mouth, “Mm-mm.” After you let him go, you mix deliberate and sloppy kisses to his skin, turning your focus and attention onto the space just beside his nipple.
By this point, you’re panting, quiet groans and whines slipping past your lips. He tastes so good and smells even better, the cedary scent of him contained and more powerful beneath the confines of his shirt. The more you suck, bite, lick, and kiss him...the harder you squeeze your thighs together.
When you truly process his scent and let it overwhelm you, you moan into his skin. You delicately let your tongue graze his skin, once just beside his nipple before going directly over it—softly...slowly...tantalizingly...
“Shit—mmm…” His hands press against you underneath his shirt. You press your lips into him softly before licking again, teasing the outer edge of his nipple with the tip of your tongue. He moans to the feeling, “Babe—”
Cutting him off, and by doing so like he frequently does to you, you let your lips wrap around him softly, sucking tenderly before applying more pressure and letting your tongue massage the bud. You feel his hips buck beneath your left hand, moaning openly against his skin at his reaction. You let go momentarily, only to flick your tongue against him before wrapping your lips around the bud again.
Without a warning other than a loud groan, he suddenly yanks his shirt up and over your head, the material landing above his chest. Caught, you release him from your mouth and smile up at him—equal parts mischievous and guilty. With his chest rising as he breaths deeply, you press your lips into him again, staring up at him with pleading, aroused eyes while you do so. “Mmm…” he shifts in his seat, a small groan sounding from his throat that makes his voice hoarse, “not even gonna let me watch you, pup?” You kiss the side of his chest, “That’s not very nice, hm?”
Moaning while doing so, you sink back into the side of his pec, biting and squeezing his muscle between your teeth. When he groans, you let go and sit up, “Off.” Like he thought, all he had to do was wait. Quickly, you lean forward and kiss the same spot you just bit, “Take it off. Right now.”
He smirks, “Yes, ma’am.” While you wait, impatiently, your fingers grip and sink into his thigh that’s closest to you. As you watch his core flex while his arms go up, your hands immediately part from his thigh to drag up his abs back to his chest. Once his shirt is off completely, he lets it drop behind the couch. He runs a hair through his hair, “Like my chest that much, princess?”
You’re quick to straddle his lap, and instinctively each of his hands palm both sides of your ass, drawing you in closer with a tight grip. You wait not at all to let yourself grind down onto his lap, “Mmhm…”
As he leans forward to kiss you, you stop him by pressing your palms against the top of his chest, pushing him back into the couch. Your hands flatten, pressing harder as you drag down his muscle a short distance, “Just look at you, so fucking sexy…”
With his chest heaving and expanding under your touch, he chuckles, “Is that right?”
You sigh longingly, staring at his chest rather than at him, “Shut up.”
His eyes widen, but he can’t hide his smirk, “Geez, pup—”
You interrupt, finally meeting his eyes, “Quiet. Let me have my fun, hm?”
After groaning, he swallows and nods, glancing down at your hands that now have a firm grip over his muscles, your nails pressing down into his skin until you make him moan.
As you continue to squeeze, palming his wide, warm muscles in your hands, his head tilts back and rests completely against the back of the couch’s edge. “Mmm... Good boy…” Before he can make a sound or move a muscle, you’re practically lunging for his throat, licking a clean, slow stripe up and over his adam’s apple.
“Ngh—oh—” His fingertips dig into your skin over the material covering your ass. When your teeth reach his jaw, you nip his skin, “F-fuck, pup—”
Leaning in on one side, your mouth is hot on his neck, not holding back in how you bite him. “Nngh!” Your hips drive down into his lap, easily feeling how hard he is—how hard he has been, likely since when you first drove your face into the side of his chest earlier.
As you retract from his neck panting, driven by a wild desire for him, he’s quickly lifting his head off the couch and gripping your face in both of his hands. “Pup—”
You don’t let him speak, crashing your mouth onto his instead. Where you may normally wait to slip your tongue into his mouth, you don’t. He moans into your mouth immediately at the contact, the grip of his hands on your face softening as he welcomes you. Reluctantly, you part from him, needing to say your piece, “I need you to cum inside me. Right now.”
“N-now?”
“Yes, Val. Right fucking now.” Your lips find his again, his groans and moans from you kissing him—grinding against him—falling easily and frequently into your mouth.
Trying to pull back from you and failing, he speaks between wet, desperate kisses, “W-wait—ngh—are you—mmm—sure?”
“Mhm.” Breaking away, your hands press against his chest as you grind down more intentionally. “Now, stop talking and help me get all my clothes off.”
When he doesn’t immediately react, your mouth goes straight back for his neck. You sink in, sucking on his flesh hard as you grind more aggressively against his cock. “F-fuck—if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to eat me, baby.”
Releasing his neck with a gasp, you bring your mouth right by his ear, whispering, “If you don’t help me get us both naked, right now...then yes, I will.”
“Pup—” he chuckles, only to silenced by his own moan when you nip his earlobe, “m-my god—nngh—” He groans again, starting to peel you off his lap by your waist. His voice becomes low, “Alright, I’ll give you what you want.”
“Please—yes, right now. I need you inside me.” You try to kiss him but can’t as he’s assertively pulling you off his lap and putting you on your feet in front of the couch.
After an aggressive handful of minutes involving mostly a frantic stripping of clothing, your back is pressed against the couch, your right leg up on Valko’s shoulder and your left pulled up by your hand underneath your knee. He’s planked above you, his left hand grabbing the couch’s armrest above your head, and his right holding his cock in his hand as he’s actively torturing you with it.
You’re a whining, dripping mess—submitted to him, “Valko please—h-holy fuck—put it in, I c-can’t take it!” You’re not sure you’ve ever felt so fucking hot before—quite literally burning up beneath him.
He fights a smile, carefully, and much too slow for your liking, grinds the head of his cock against your throbbing clit, “Gosh, pup—s’needy, aren’t you?”
“Yes, y-yes! Val, put your cock inside me r-right now—I fuckin’—oh m-my god—s-stop teasing me—nngh—you asshole.” Each word that comes out of your mouth is interrupted by a pathetic whine.
He tsks at you, running his cock back down then up the length of your slit, “Hey, now, baby. No need to be mean, hm?”
Your voice cracks, whines that have become explicit moans interrupting practically every other word, “S-sorry but—nngh, fuck! You’re being s-so—”
He hums deeply from his throat, withholding his need to moan while trying to stay in control, “Sorry, gorgeous—mmm—I am kinda being a dick, huh? ...You’re just so fucking sexy, begging for me.”
With your free right hand, you reach for whatever part of his arm on the couch is available to you, gripping aggressively, “Ugh! Nngh—s-stop it—p-please!”
Pulling his eyes from yours, he watches as he grinds his cock against you, “Mmm—you’re so fucking wet, my god. Look at you…”
Utterly desperate for him, you’re saying anything and everything to get his cock inside you, “Mmhm—p-please, don’t you w-wanna feel? I’m so w-wet for y-your cock, p-please! I n-need you to cum inside me—” He moans, the suggestion right there for the taking. Instead, he lifts his cock the slightest bit up from you and taps against your clit, “Nngh!” Your eyes snap shut, desperation taking over in rapid, shallow breaths.
When you open your eyes again, he looks far too smug, “If y-you—ngh—don’t fuck me right n-now, I s-swear to—” Without waiting another second, thankfully, he’s sinking his tip inside you, “Mmmph!”
“Good girl—ngh—fuckin’ oh my—”
You immediately drag your left leg up even higher with your hand, pulling your thigh against your body, the action pulling him deeper, as you interrupt him, “Y-yes, yes, oh my god—m-more—more—”
He sinks slowly, like he’s trying to tame you—but also, control himself, “Nngh—s-shit—calm down, pup.”
Your hips buckle and wiggle, “No—n-no, all the way, mmm—h-holy shit—you feel s’fucking good! I c-can’t—”
Doing what he normally would himself, as he pushes in, you release your left leg and place it over his other shoulder yourself. The change in angle makes him sink further, both of you failing to contain your moans.
He stares down at you in awe; not that you weren’t ever like this—you definitely had been—but right now, it was making his vision blur and his cock throb to a painful degree. He never wants to hurt you, and often holds back from thrusting into you as hard as he possibly can in fear of hurting you. But…it seemed like you really—desperately—wanted him to do just that.
Now completely inside you, your legs above his shoulders and pushed back into a mating press by his weight, he lets both of his hands grip the couch’s armrest, tight. With each thrust, you’re begging him for more, watching his core flex and contract with his weighty thrusts into your aching cunt.
“H-harder, harder! Mmm—nngh!” Each time you cry out for him to frankly, absolutely violate you, he groans deeply, fighting against a primal urge to just completely let go and rail you to his heart’s content.
Lacking restraint with each and every thrust, when he really starts giving you what you want, all you’re mostly left with is the ability to scream yes, over, and over, again. “Just like t-that, y-yes! Yes! D-don’t stop—nngh!”
With your eyes rolled back and your head tilted back into the couch, you can’t focus on his face, instead just on the feeling of him drilling into you with all of his power. Speaking through a broken pant while you tremble, “M’gonna—m’gonna—” You can’t form the sentence, the feeling of the head of his cock penetrating you and slamming against your G-spot endlessly and quickly leaving you a weak, dizzy mess.
His eyes close, fighting so hard against his own release brimming at the surface from the feel of you—from your reactions to him fucking you as hard as he’s able. Each time he opens his eyes to admire you, he’s playing a dangerous game. When your legs start to violently shake against his shoulders and cries of pleasure pour out from your lungs, “Nngh! Oh, fuck—baby, m’gonna—” He can’t get his warning out, either.
Suddenly gaining the ability to speak at the utter need for him to fill you in his entirety, “Yes, yes—mmm—give i-it to m-me—I need—ah!” Your cries of desperation are silenced by a dramatic, deep thrust forward, his vocalized and raspy grunt like music to your ears.
“Mmm—fuck!” He plunges again, if possible, somehow harder. Every lasting thrust from him is timed with each hot, spurt of cum you can feel warm you from the inside—accompanied unmistakably by a repeated and aggressive twitch from his cock fighting against the pressure of your walls squeezing down around him.
Since he had already knocked out all available air from you, you don’t know how, but you speak without any air in your lungs, “V-Val—h-holy fuck—yes, y-yes, t-that’s it—!”
Using the armrest of the couch, gripping it still with both hands—his knuckles completely white—for the final dose of his cum, like a medicine you require, he thrusts again, the intense pressure eeking out a loud, pathetic moan from your throat.
Slowing down slightly and calming, but neither of you recovered—not even close—he pulls out partially, glancing down between the two of you, “H-holy fuck…look at that, hm?” You’re beyond trembling. Before you can speak, he pushes back in, “Did you get what you wanted, puppy?”
Your voice is a satisfied plea, your head spinning, “Y-yes—oh my god—yes!”
He repeats the process, watching his release slick around him and ooze out between you both with each teasing thrust forward, sure to tilt up with his hips each time he’s completely inside you to press his tip against your G-spot, leaving you whining and shaking. “So damn pretty…love it when you’re full of me...”
“Kiss me, kiss me, kiss—” He chuckles, finding perhaps too much joy in your avid desperation, spreading his arms and jostling your legs off his shoulders down to his elbows so he can get to you and silence that desperation with his mouth. When his lips land on yours, that means his cock is buried its full extent inside you again, incentivizing a whiny moan from your mouth to his.
After a moment—several moments—of staying entangled, you stay exactly where you are, but he raises and sits normally on the couch, pulling your legs over his lap, petting and rubbing you lovingly while you recover, his warm, large palms flat against your skin. Still panting, “God, baby... I don’t think I’m the only one who experiences a…heat, so-to-speak.”
Completely out of breath, you weakly get out your rebuttal, “Shut…up…”
He laughs, squeezing your shins in his hands, “As you wish, princess.”
You swallow harshly, “Go—mmm—drink some water. We’re…doing that…again.”
His eyes peel off your body—truthfully, off your cunt dripping with his claim—and land on your eyes, “Again!?”
“Mmhm…s’good—so fucking good—need it…again...”
With a light growl and a laugh, he’s pulling your legs apart by your ankles, wedging his body back between your legs, “My insatiable, pup, huh? Need more of my cum, do you?”
As he’s pushing further forward, nuzzling his face into your neck, “Y-yes, oh my god—”
Speaking between kisses on your neck, “Mmm—fuck—I need five minutes.” His teeth sink into your neck, “...Make that two.”
You laugh quietly, your chest still heaving. His kisses on your neck slow, “But…I don’t get to make you cum with my mouth first, hm?”
You whine, “A-after—mmm—l-later—need you s’bad…”
He bites you again before speaking, a low growl getting cut off by a groan, “Mm—nngh—now who’s being the asshole?”
You tsk, tapping his back with your hand in defiance, “Hey!”
He quickly pulls his face from your neck, bringing his face in front of yours. “Kidding, baby. I take it back, I’m sorry,” he kisses several spots on your face, “really sorry, pup, that was mean.” He doesn’t stop kissing you or apologizing until you smile and giggle. “But asking me to keep my mouth off you…might just be meaner.” He kisses you softly, so softly it has you whining for more, “You know how much I love to make you cum that way…”
Panting, you raise your brows at him, “Are you saying you don’t want to cum inside me again, hm?”
He folds easily, too easily—in a way you absolutely love, “Okay, shit. I’ll be right back, gonna get us some water.” He hops off you with a speed that makes you laugh again. He points a finger at you, smiling, “You stay right there, hm?”
You gesture down with both of your hands to your pure comfortability sunken into the couch, legs spread and one dangling off for dramatic effect, giggling, “Do I look capable of moving to you?”
“Mmm—no…you don’t.” He teeters in place, contemplating jumping you right then after having just stood up, “Fuck! Okay, be right back.”
***
On the floor beside the couch, splayed out, “Okay, okay. …No…more…”
You roll onto your side and press your lips into his tricep, “One more?”
“No!” He groans to the thought, his abs flexing. “Fuck…” his voice cracks into a chuckle, “you’re tryin’ to fuckin’ to kill me, pup.”
Your voice becomes a tempting coo, “You’re just so—”
He interrupts, “Don’t start, you.” He speaks through deep pants, “You got me…for all…I’m worth…”
“Doesn’t hurt to find out, does it?” You tip your fingers up his chest, leaning into him as you start to sit up.
“Back, you! Uh-uh. You’ll—” he starts laughing as you quickly plop down on top of his large frame, “kill m-me!”
“Hmm…” You press your face into his chest, “hmph…”
Stroking your hair and back lovingly, you move with the rise and fall of his chest, “How about this, princess…as soon as we wake up, I’ll fuck you even harder, as many times as you want.” You moan into his chest. “You know how I am in the morning, hm?”
“Mmhm…even harder, huh?” You bite his chest weakly, a small whimper sounding, “Can we go to sleep right now, then?”
“Oh, god.” You giggle, squeezing your limbs over his body in a wide hug to encompass the size of him. “You’re not gonna let me rest the next few days, are you?”
You lift your head and look at him with a devious smile, “Nope.” You pop the “p,” pecking his chest with your lips once, “Now, off to bed, handsome.”
“My god…” he smiles, brushing your hair back with both hands, “what have I gotten myself into?”
You smile back at him, “You love me.”
He pinches your cheek, his eyes full of authentic warmth, “Mhm, more than you know.” Wrapping his arms around you, he’s tugging you further up his torso, “C’mere…naughty thing, you.” He feigns like he’s going to bite you before giving you a gentle, sweet kiss. After the kiss, “Let’s shower first, hm? I’ll clean you up.”
“Mmm…that sounds nice.” You kiss his cheek, “Thank you, baby.”
“Good, can’t just leave my girl a mess after all that. Come on, up you go.” You whine playfully, reluctantly peeling yourself off him. “Mm-mm, don’t stand up. I got you, baby.” Your heart warms and your stomach turns. You roll off him onto the carpet, sitting up slightly. After he stands up, he squats back down beside you, “Come on, arms around my neck, hm?” You smile, wrapping your arms around him as one of his arms scoops beneath both of your knees and the other supports your back. Regardless of how spent he may be, picking you up like this is absolutely nothing to him—no matter the situation.
Holding you in his arms, he smiles before pecking your lips, “I love you, pup.”
You stroke the side of his cheek with your hand, offering a light pinch, “I love you, handsome.”
As he heads for the bathroom with you in his arms, he chuckles, “Don’t get any ideas, Miss Hunter.” You laugh in response and rest your head on his shoulder, nuzzling into his warmth once again.
tags: khaosi sovereign sylus is hot so let's bring him back | oral | nasty sex | rough sex | big dick sylus | sylus watching you finger yourself
The whole palace is on edge from the storm that occurred last night. Whispered hushes travel between lips as the news of your fight with Sylus has spread. Rumor has it that the Khaosi sovereign went out of your shared bedroom with a darkened face and a murderous aura emitting from him. He rode into the night on his fleet with a handful of soldiers to who knows where.
"It was all his fault!" You think as you fume at the paperwork on your desk. Burning holes as if they'd magically ignite in front of you, but what you're really angry at is Sylus. Not exactly him, but the way he actually left when you told him to leave made you even angrier…
You didn't mean it. You wished he'd turn around and kiss you and slip his hand under your skirt and make love to you—but no, he's off subjugating enemies as a form of releasing frustration.
It's that time of the month when Sylus oh-so-kindly lets you use his body like a toy. Yet you're in the middle of a fight, and both monarchs are too prideful to give in quickly. So you have no choice but to lie down after work to touch yourself on your shared bed. All you can do is imagine his thick fingers rubbing your clit, and closing your eyes to picture his annoying smirk.
"I want to wipe that off his face by riding it like a horse." You thought to yourself as your back arches and your mouth opens sensually. Your fingertip touches your swollen folds, and you try to insert one finger, trying to remember how Sylus did it. But your attempts are met with disappointment because his skills are just that special. You can't quite replicate the feeling of him, so you just rub and stimulate your cunt in the best way you can.
Frustrated whimpers bounce off the walls as your high begins to accumulate. Your vivid imagination pulls you in so much that you can't tell what's real and what's not anymore. It's like Sylus is really here; his large hand engulfs your body in a way that it's natural to unravel in front of him. "Hnnngh!" You let out a high-pitched whine, drool coming out of your lips as you repeatedly thrust upwards to get more stimulation out of your fingers. Repeated intrusions of your fingertips build one by one until you feel that tightness release from within.
Relief washes over as you take a breath and lay your tired arm limp. How does Sylus not get tired doing all the work? Suddenly, you sense a presence in your room and your eyes immediately fly open, ready to fight. Then your eyes travel to the intruder's long legs, up to the bulge in his pants, and up to his red eyes that are filled with mirth.
Sylus has very much enjoyed your little show and made no noise to not interrupt your self-session.
"Missed me, sweetie? Is this your way of apologizing?" His tone was haughty, as if he had hit a jackpot coming home at the right time to see you in such a state. Your pussy facing him the moment he entered the door was a welcome sight. You were even kind enough to wet it for him to slide right in.
You were frozen until he spoke, immediately registering what had just happened and refusing to show embarrassment on your face. "You can dream. I'm not apologizing because I'm not wrong." You cover yourself with your sheer nightgown, and you realize it's not doing much, so you resort to blanketing yourself.
Sylus walks agonizingly slowly towards you, making you feel like a cornered prey that has no choice but to be eaten by the predator. The look in his eyes was giving off desire and a warning: You can run now. You can choose to leave and end this eye-fucking, but before you know it, Sylus is close to your face, and his arms are caging you between the bedframe.
"I don't even remember what we fought about." He whispers and kisses your lips, not out of lust but out of love, a certain tenderness reserved for you. "I'm sorry anyway because I made you upset. And I walked out on you when you clearly wanted to make up yesterday."
You sigh, caressing his face, to which he rubs on your hand like a cat. "Don't worry about it. It's just my mood swings, and I'm pretty emotional these days."
"Oh? Are you ovulating right now?" Sylus smirks as if he knows what it means, and you chuckle bashfully.
"Are you gonna help me?"
"Of course, I'm your husband" He groans near your ears and slides down the sleeves off your shoulder, exposing your naked top half to the air. A dry chuckle comes out of his throat as he sees your bare chest and wastes no time fondling them. You moan as he plays around, massaging and whispering sweet nothings to your ear. "You should do this more often. Not wearing anything underneath." He pinches your nipple as he says it, making sure his suggestion sticks. "Or you could wear nothing at all, much preferred."
You grind against his hard cock, straining against its confines. Rubbing yourself, which Sylus responds to by rutting against your core. The dry humping goes on for a few minutes before you got impatient, and threw the useless nightgown you have on. Sylus follows suit, looking down at you as he unbuckles his belt and lets his cock free. His abs flex as he takes off his shirt and positions on top, naked bodies sending warmth to each other. His fingers slide down to your core, entering with one finger and then another to thrust upwards. You scream in pleasure, legs thrashing around as Sylus feeds on the expressions on your face.
"No one's ever as good at pleasuring you except me. Not even yourself. Remember that."
His thick fingers, rubbing against your walls and hitting the spot every time, bring tears to your eyes. You feel how unfair it is that he knows your body so well. "Sylus..." You call out for him, and he obliges, immediately pressing your lips together in a sloppy tongue clash as he speeds up his fingers to bring you to your orgasm. Your legs start to shake, and with one last thrust to your g-spot, your eyes go to the back of your head as you orgasm around his thick digits.
"Fucking tight," He whispers
Sylus takes out his fingers and dives straight between your legs. His hungry licks bring out screams from you as he devours like a starved beast. Your legs are on his shoulders, and he's practically gluing his lips to your center. He was having a heated make-out session with your cunt as if a long-lost lover, and you could do nothing but gasp and moan in the warmth of his tongue. So you bury him deeper with your hand keeping him from rising, and ride out your incoming high while your slit slides in his nose bridge perfectly.
"Sy… I'm going to cum!"
You scream as he does tricks with his tongue to pull you to the edge. Juices then splatter in his face as you release another time, but with more force. Sylus's mussed-up hair comes into view, one eye closed, before opening both. It was clear that you had squirted on him, and this bastard was treating it like an achievement.
He lingers between your thighs to scoop up your essence and brings them to your mouth as you suck and look at him seductively. Sylus groans as his cock impossibly hardens, resisting the urge just to insert it right then and there.
"Don't say anything," You groan into the pillows, and Sylus chuckles, adoring your mannerisms and how cute you look after cumming on his face.
"As much as I love to do that again, I have a different kind of need right now." He has a pained expression on his face as he lets you come down from your own high. Kissing and soothing your body before letting you know that he'll enter you. "You should prepare yourself because you know I missed you."
You smile and take his face in your hands. "I missed you, too." Sylus smiles and kisses you. The thick head breaches your entrance, pushing against the resistance as you shiver and whine at the penetration. You lock your legs behind his back to keep him there, leaving Sylus no choice but to push himself deeper.
His thrusts start slow, as if saying sorry to make up for the stupid walkout he did. For leaving you alone when you needed him. This sex was pure servitude to you as his wife. All his feelings conveyed through his body spill out to give pleasure to you. Sylus pulls out a little and thrusts back in, making you whine as skin slapping sounds echo. His pace quickens once he makes sure all the feelings are out of the way. Splitting you open on his dick as your walls repeatedly expand to accommodate his size.
"Nghhh-ughhh" Your pornographic moans are music to his ears. The feeling of being stuffed dumb by a big cock sends your mind spiraling in pleasure. His rhythmic thrusts completely swallow you. His hips buck into your cunt to be skin-to-skin and to drive deeper. Sylus's hands grip your sides from the involuntary jolting of your body every time the cock head bruises your g-spot.
"Good kitten, you can take it," He groans because you were tightening on him like crazy. Pussy walls clench to welcome the thick intrusion alongside his brutal thrusts. Sweat forms on Sylus' forehead as he pounds you into the mattress, soaking the surroundings in body fluids. It was like you never wanted him to let go, and all he had to do was stay inside forever. You could stay like this forever—fucked out and free from empress duties.
Your legs were tired and sore from hanging behind his back. You were about to put them down, but Sylus then sends a deep thrust, balls swinging against your ass every other second as a warning.
"A little more." He rasped amidst the wet sound of smacking flesh. You were too tired to think about replying, just wanting to feel his warm cum after his cock finishes wrecking your insides. And so you clench on him as hard as you can, making his hips jerk forward in surprise that sends him straight to your spot. You screech in surprise, not expecting that to backfire on you, but now you really feel your lower belly tightening, and your pussy starts to throb in anticipation of the joined climax. Sylus equally feels the pressure pressing down his shaft, his eyes intent on bringing your high.
Your walls start to flutter around him, and you beg to keep him going inside you, your vision starting to spin from the immense pleasure. Sylus obliges and sets out a final reckless pace before you shiver and let out a choked sob of his name. It was like a dam had broken, and your juices coated his thickness in a sticky essence. It left you trying your best to catch your breath as the man on top of you prepares to flood you inside.
Sylus chases his release and soaks up the feeling of your pussy and your lewd expressions before stuttering his hips and locking himself deep to empty his balls inside you. He paints your cunt with warm cum. Your pussy muscles milk every drop of his seed, taking it as they always do. His eyes were closed while dumping copious amounts into you. Sylus gives light thrusts before pulling and watching it all come out of your abused hole.
He scoops up some of that cum and pushes it back in, pressing his lips against your belly before coming up to your lips.
"That was insane." You managed to breathe out in the middle of kissing, and he chuckles, kissing your forehead for good measure.
"Rest for now, I'll clean you up." Sylus fixes your baby hairs that are stuck to your face, and you feel like giving in to the need to sleep. That exercise took quite a toll on your stamina.
"You'll need energy for the morning." He whispers playfully, just a moment before your eyelids close.
🔞// Dancer!Sylus x fem reader, slow-ish burn, smut & fluff
This had to be a joke, obviously. There was no way your friends actually bought VIP tickets to a male stripper show. You were just going to stay in and relax for your birthday, but the giggling pair of women watching you stare blankly at the ticket in your hand, had other plans. “You are not serious,” you huffed, waiting for them to admit it was a prank. They shook their heads in unison. “You need to loosen up a bit! All you do is work and rot in this apartment,” Tara said. “It’ll be fuuunnn, we’ll all go together!,” Simone chimed in, giving her shoulders an enthusiastic shimmy. “Come on, babe. You only turn 30 once. You’re hot and single, plus it’s not like you have to go home with any of the dancers…I mean, unless you wanted to,” she added with a wink.
Admittedly, you were getting a little too fond of your couch every night. The dent left in the cushion was evidence of your repetitive nights in, watching the same trash tv, eating take out that was overly salted. You sighed with resignation, “fine—I’ll go, but don’t expect me to do anything crazy.” The girls clapped, bouncing with excitement like a pair of happy seals. Tara made a full itinerary for shopping, getting ready and the scheduled transportation in case you had one too many birthday cocktails. As embarrassing as this whole ordeal was, you were thankful to have such thoughtful women as friends.
Just days before your birthday, they dragged you to the mall to find the perfect dress. It had been ages since you’d been to a club, let alone a small bar right in town. They scrutinized everything in your closet, heads shaking with disapproval. “You need something that draws more attention. Something sexy,” Simone insisted, raking through clothing racks with trained precision. “Yesss, mature but daring!,” Tara added, holding different pieces in front of your body. Each dress got shorter, lacier—you might as well show up nude at this rate. Eventually, you wandered off on your own, thumbing through the aisles with little to no effort.
Then your hands landed on a dress that looked promising. Just revealing enough to catch a few stares, but not too loud or gaudy. It was wine-red, strapless, length just above the knees and hugging your normally hidden curves. Your friend’s eyes widened as you stepped out of the dressing room, giving them a slow twirl. “So? Do you two approve?,” you murmured. Tara and Simone glanced at each other, then back at you, “yes!” Although it was out of your comfort zone, you felt incredible in that dress, even if the fabric clung to you like a second skin.
When the night finally arrived, reality began to sink in. Not only were you coming to terms with transitioning out of your twenties, you’d also have to face the nervousness twisting in your gut about whatever depraved plans your friends had in store. It’s just male dancers, nothing too crazy, right? Besides, you needed a break from it all—life, work and the train wreck that was your dating life. Maybe ogling attractive men in skimpy little outfits wasn’t such a bad idea? The blaring sound of Tara’s car horn pulled you out of your ruminations. You stood in front of the floor length mirror, straightening out any wrinkles, fixing tendrils of loose hair. Simone walked out from your bathroom, slinging her purse over one shoulder. “You look amazing, girl. It’ll be a memorable night, promise.”
Bass thumped from inside the sleek, club venue. As you walked inside, the lobby was low-lit, adorned with velvet lined booths and private tables. Yours was reserved right at the edge of the main stage. Behind it was a giant LED screen, glowing with the night’s line up. ‘Sylus: The Silver Fiend’ was the first performer. Tara brought a tray of shots from the bar and you felt your stomach churn at the scent of overly expensive vodka. “Cheers, to the birthday girl! Thirty and thriving!,” she cheered, clinking the glasses together before tossing hers back. The liquor burned as it went down, you winced at its strength, chasing it with a sip of pineapple juice. “I heard this guy’s the hottest dancer here. I had to get you front row seats,” Simone said just as the lights began to dim. The entire lounge roared with excitement, chanting the name ‘Sylus’ repeatedly.
You turned your attention to the stage, heart fluttering as a slow, sensual song blared through the speakers. A tall, broad man stepped out from the curtains, dressed head to toe in leather and sleek riding boots. His hair was a silvery-white, perfectly tousled and catching the multicolored lights above him. He looked over the crowd, a confident smirk on his lips. “Give it up for the fiend, ladies!,” the DJ exclaimed, followed by an outpouring of screams. Sylus slowly turned his back to the crowd, rolling his shoulders—letting his leather jacket fall to the floor. His back was wide and sculpted, carved by the gods themselves. Your eyes couldn’t stop from dragging down to his narrow waist. He looked over one shoulder, directly at you. His eyes were sharp, sensual and a deep shade of crimson. Sylus rolled his body hypnotically, hands roaming over muscle before resting on the belt loops of his pants.
God, his fingers were long, hands large and vascular. You squirmed as he dragged the zipper down, lip caught in your teeth. Yeah, maybe this night was going to be a lot better than you thought. He took his time sauntering around the stage, sliding to his knees, letting groups of women run their hands down his abdomen. Something stirred inside you then, jealousy perhaps? It faded when his eyes found you again, raking over your entire frame. You clutched the dollar bills in your hand, heart a fluttering mess as he approached. His cologne hit your senses first, woody and spiced—then he knelt down and held your chin between his fingers. “What are we celebrating tonight, Kitten?,” he purred, “love the dress.” The warmth deepened across your cheeks, words stuck in your throat. “Mm, don’t be shy, now…,” he chided, taking your wrist in his hand. Your fingers glided down his chest and abdomen, stopping short of his unbuttoned pants.
A surge of heat filled the space between you, time seemed to pause as you took the hand clutching a fistful of money, tucking it into Sylus’s waistband. He chuckled, it was the most attractive sound you’d ever heard. “Such a generous tipper..,” he jumped down from the stage, pushing your legs apart with his knee. The dancer contorted his body like a serpent, letting you touch him while he guided your hands. Your girlfriends were in shock, eyes bulging as they watched the scene before them. Sylus’s gaze never left yours, in fact, he couldn’t care less if anyone else was in the room. He braced one hand on the booth, mouth lowered to your ear.
“When this song is over, care to join me for a private dance?”
Your mouth watered, almost choking on the excess spit as you swallowed. Sylus held your chin for the second time, running a thumb over your lips. “Is that okay, Sweetie?”
“I—didn’t pay for that.”
“Ssshh, it’s on the house. I’d really love your company. Just you and me…,” he mused, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.
You looked to your friends, seeking some kind of approval. They responded wordlessly but their frantic nods said enough. Sylus’s song faded out as the next performer took the stage, he waited eagerly for you to join him, hand outstretched.
His grip was secure, yet gentle—your fingers interlaced perfectly. Before guiding you to the vip suites, Sylus bid your friends farewell. “Ladies, please enjoy the rest of the show,” he pulled an unlimited drink card from his pocket and slid it to the girls. “And drink responsibly.”
Why you? You pondered, stepping through a beaded curtain that lead to a private room. Sylus held the door open, “after you.” As it clicked shut, your ears twitched and heart pounded. The space was tinted by red LED lights, setting an incredibly intimate tone. He lead you to a satin lined chaise, encouraging you to relax. Slow tempo music hummed from the speakers, you found yourself idly swaying to the sound. Sylus towered over you, following your rhythm. “Let’s pick up where we left off. Eyes on me, Kitten…” His fingers rested at the waist of his leather pants, sliding them lower and lower—hips rotating agonizingly close. You toyed with the hem of your dress, palms clammy…panties…clinging more than you’d expect. “I like the way your eyes look right now…,” Sylus purred, stepping out from the trousers pooled at his feet. Now he stood before you, practically bare, only wearing skin tight briefs.
“You can touch me, Sweetie. Wherever you want,” he insisted.
“Can you…kneel down for me—please?”
Sylus quirked an eyebrow but obeyed nonetheless. You held his face in your hands, thumbs grazing his cheeks, taking in every sharp feature. He was truly a stunning man, unique in his beauty, looking like he could live in another time. “I like your eyes too…,” you murmured, your touch feathering down the planes of his throat. “They’re like gems, beautiful...” This was, well, different for Sylus—unexpected. Normally his private clients couldn’t get enough of his biceps or abs, the obvious bulge beneath his shorts. Still, he never allowed them to explore below the belt. You left the man speechless, yet wanting so much more. “Your words are dripping in honey,” he breathed, hands falling to your waist.
“I wonder if the rest of you is just as sweet…”
With your faces just inches apart, you could taste the mint on his breath, feel it fan across your shoulders. ‘I want to know you. Memorize every last detail. Taste you…but…not yet’, Sylus thought. He sighed, reluctantly pulling away. You were reeling from the tension that suddenly snapped like a rubber band. The warmth from his hands still scalded your skin, like a cruel reminder they didn’t stay, didn’t strip away the only barrier of fabric keeping you from getting closer. “Sorry, pet. Times up.”
Your body slumped heavily against the chaise, not at all sated. You watched Sylus redress before he extended his hand. “Come now, I’ll return you to your friends,” he said, soft, his lips curling up slightly. Simone and Tara were happy as clams, surrounded by a group of male dancers—dollar bills tossed and drinks spilling over their glasses. You felt Sylus's breath on your ear as he leaned in to speak, “when I see you again, it won’t be in this smokey club,” he opened your palm, sliding a business card into it before closing your fingers. “Let me know when you’re home safe, please?” All you could do was nod, still left in disbelief. Then when you turned to say goodbye, all that was left was his lingering warmth.
The ride back to your apartment was full of chatter, your friends asking twenty questions at one million miles per hour. “He…gave me his number, said he wants to see me again…to text him when I’m home safe.” You looked up from the card in your hand, meeting two sets of wide eyes and slacked jaws. “So? Are you going to?,” they echoed. A shy grin spread across your lips, cheeks searing hot. “I–you think I should? I really want to.” They nodded frantically in unison, “if you don’t, you’re crazy,” Simone said. “He was so into you!,” Tara added. Of course, it was all a part of the act. To make women swoon and fall over themselves so they’d tuck more money in his briefs. When you left, did he take anyone else back to that room? Say the same saccharine words? Secretly, selfishly, you hoped not.
The warmth and indents of his fingers still haunted your flesh. You swore you could still taste his breath. Mint, lingering from the remnants of gum or a lozenge and something warmer…maybe a swig of brown liquor? Regardless, you wanted more—punching his number into your contact list.
🐱–“Hey it’s me, thank you for a fun night. Wasn’t planning on celebrating my birthday and…”
You stared at the forming paragraph, thinking it’d be too much. Erasing it almost completely as you sent something simpler.
🐱–“Made it home, had fun tonight. Thank you.”
Before your phone could settle on the nightstand, it vibrated to life, Sylus’s contact name lighting up the screen.
🪶–“Of course, Kitten. So, when can I see you again?”
Your heart flickered, beating like a drum in your chest. Several minutes passed, thumbs hovering over the glowing screen. Too many minutes, it seemed. Because your phone began to ring. What you didn’t know about Sylus was that this stripper gig wasn’t his real job. He could get his hands on anything or one he wanted with a simple snap of his fingers. You happened to be that want—no, a need. Something ancient stirred in his soul when his gaze fell on you from that stage and he couldn’t just let you slip away. But, he wanted it to be a true connection, wanted you to be willing to see past the dollar bills and neon lights. Wanted you to see him beyond bare skin and lustful stares.
“H-hello?,” you almost whispered, pressing the phone to your ear. “Perhaps I’m not being forward enough.” His voice was much deeper, rougher with need. “I want to see you again…and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen. Do you understand?” “I…yeah, I do,” you murmured.
“Good. Very good,” you could hear the smile on his lips, feel warmth bleed through the speaker as he spoke. “Let me take you out on a proper date. Away from all that depravity you saw tonight.” You nodded as if he could see you, but flinched at his words when he spoke again. “Speak, Miss kitty. I need a ‘yes’,” he soothed, his voice coming through to stroke the length of your spine.
“Where do you wanna take me?”
He chuckled, then let out a long sigh. “Check your messages, sweetie.”
Before you could respond the call dropped and a text came through. An address. A time. What to wear. The restaurant sounded familiar, you thought. It’s because that was the most impossible place to reserve in the whole city.
🐱- “no offense, but…how can you afford to book a reservation here?” You could almost hear that familiar chuckle as his text lit your screen.
🪶- “none taken and not with money from my waistband, I can assure you.”
🪶- “I’m looking forward to seeing you, get some rest.”
—
Sylus placed his phone on the nightstand, a deep gust of wind blew from his lips. He walked slowly to the floor to ceiling windows of his high-rise condo, gaze flicking back and forth across the busy city below. Linkon wasn’t his home, nowhere was, really. Not when you live a life as dangerous as his. Being a male dancer was a cover, something he could snatch easily with his looks and charm alone.
But would you accept him, the most honest version. Someone who rules over a concrete kingdom, someone that takes lives. Only the ones that deserve it, yet—.
Sylus was prepared for the sour taste it could leave in your mouth. Used to being called a monster. A villain. Did he deserve your softness, your attention?
It’s not as if the leader of Onychinus expected a warm and affectionate welcome.
———
That was how you remembered him though, warm. Soft spoken. As the weeks went by, you couldn’t wait to see those pools of ruby red. Smell the musk off his skin. Hear the depth in his voice in person instead of through phone calls.
See him in a different light.
Candlelight made him look soft, romantic, golden as it illuminated his face. You stared at him more than the menu in your hands.
“Have you decided on something?,” he asked, smiling earnestly.
“I—well, I like seafood a lot. There’s just so much to choose from. The salmon…or no, maybe lobster…?”
Sylus watched you over the rim of his wine glass, letting the red liquid slither down his throat.
“Why not both?,” he offered, without a hint of hesitation.
“You’re serious?,” you rasped.
This was the most extravagant date you had ever been on, with a man that just a month earlier danced practically nude in your lap. You kept questioning if this was real, if you were truly sitting across from a stranger with white hair and red eyes.
“Please, get both,” his voice was gentler, earnest.
“Okay then, both it is.”
“Excellent.”
When Sylus looked at you, his gaze wasn’t stained with lust, but something much more reverent. He didn’t interrupt when you spoke about your hobbies, dealbreakers or that movie that changed your life in high school. In fact, he sank his chin into his palm, head tilted and lips wearing the most handsome grin. You were his best company he’d had in a long time.
There was a brief moment of silence between you after your waitress left the room, one that you decided to fill. “I’ve talked an awful lot about myself, why don’t you go?” Sylus chuckled, finishing the last of his wine. “What would you like to know, Kitten?” Plenty of simple, generic questions floated around in your head, but Sylus didn’t seem like a simple man.
“Why me? Why the private dance, the texting…this date? It’s just—not something I’m used to.”
“You should be,” he replied, unraveling the silverware from its cloth napkin. “You’re not a simple woman. There’s a depth to you I’m sure you’re aware of, yet refuse to acknowledge.” Sylus folded the napkin in his lap and topped off both glasses of wine. “You didn’t want to be in that club, did you?”
“Well—,” not exactly, not until you met him.
“I suppose we might not have ever met in that case,” he murmured, stroking his chin.
“You made me want to stay.”
Sylus froze, body stiff from your confession. He didn’t speak, he wanted you to continue, so he politely nodded. “I don’t think you wanted to be there either—I mean—you’re very good at what you do, but…,” your gaze fell, pulse thrumming. “It’s almost like it’s a cover for something.”
Now his heart was racing, in that moment Sylus felt like he was made of glass, effortlessly read.
“Perhaps it is.”
Just as the conversation was beginning to get interesting, your meals were placed before you. Admittedly, with the way your empty stomach growled, this was worth the interruption and you savored every single bite. Sylus watched you with a pleased expression, as if he adored the sight of your indulgence—and he did. What he especially loved was that your pleasure, even a simple meal, was provided by his hand—and platinum card.
Sylus insisted on walking you home, noticing the rosy glow to your cheeks from one too many glasses of wine. "Honestly, I'm fine...I can just take a taxi. I don't wanna be a burden." He stared at you, puzzled, head tilted to one side. "Sweetie, I asked you to be in my presence, it's the least I could do." There was a beat of silence before he spoke once more, "and..besides, I'm not ready for your absence just yet." His confession left you feeling unsteady on your feet. "My apartment is just a few miles north of here," you uttered. "Perfect, it would ease my mind to know you made it safely."
"Do you always do that?," you asked, a bit slurred.
"Do what?"
"Say all this sweet shit on first dates?"
The words spilled out messily before you could stop yourself. Sylus rested his arm around your shoulder, standing on the outer edge of the sidewalk. He didn't seem scorned by your slip up, in fact, that familiar chuckle rose from his throat instead. "Is that what you think I've been doing all night?," he asked. "Are you so unused to compliments that you think I would waste your time and mine saying them?" You had no rebuttal. The two of you walked at a leisurely pace, his gait was measured, confident. Now it was your turn to speak, "I guess...I just assumed you're used to flattery...with your job."
"Ah."
An apology was rising in your chest, hot and stinging like bile. The silence from Sylus was not from offense, but him carefully choosing what to say next.
"I speak to you 'sweetly' because that is what I think you deserve. Is that acceptable?"
It was darker now and the street lamps began to light one by one. You could feel Sylus's gaze on you, hear his even breath. "I...suppose that's okay." The outline of your apartment complex came into view and a part of you wished the walk would have lasted a little longer. "Which floor?," he asked as you approached the elevator near the entrance.
"Oh, um. Third."
The night had finally come to an end and you still felt like there was more to know about this incredibly mysterious man. He watched you walk to your door, turn the lock and step inside. "Thank you...for dinner, and walking me home. But wait– you're not going to walk all the way back are you?" Sylus smirked, "are you worried about me, pet? I think I'll survive." You frowned, and in this moment you truly looked like a stubborn kitten, making him chuckle. "Sylus, I'm serious-."
"Can I see you again?"
You blinked, your mouth opened and shut as words tried to form.
"There's just... something more about me I haven't had the chance to share."
"...why don't you just come inside?" It was late, you knew that and so did he. At this point, did the time really matter when he stepped inside and closed the door behind him? Did the fact that you had work in the morning matter as you watched him toe off each shoe and follow you to the couch. No. Not really. Not when you wanted more.
"Your home is...quaint," he mumbled, sinking into the cushion beside you. "It's nothing fancy, but I'm happy to have somewhere to go every night." Despite letting someone you truly didn't know into your home, this felt different. The air wasn't charged, you didn't feel cramped or trapped. Sylus brought a calm air that hadn't surrounded you in quite some time. He was close again, this felt far more intimate than your private dance somehow. Yet, there were more barriers now, down to the clothing you wore, more to tear away. You still felt that prickle beneath your skin, and urge to have him touch you, but wouldn't he have done that already if his mind was in the same place?
"I wont keep you up much longer...," he started, clasping his hands into his lap. For the first time since your introduction, Sylus wore an expression that seemed...vulnerable. You nodded, adjusting your weight into the couch. "You're right about dancing being a cover. And while I'm happy to have entertained you that night, it's not where I'll remain for the foreseeable future."
"Okay..."
"Will you disappear, then?," you asked. Why were you so concerned? You didn't know anything besides his name and what little he shared in the month you’ve gotten to know each other.
"Sometimes. The organization doesn't exactly have a set schedule."
Your brows knitted with confusion, "Sylus, who exactly are you?"
Silence fell over the room, heavier this time, like gravity had walked in and announced itself. Sylus stood, "you've heard of Onychinus, yes?" The name was faintly familiar, a blur in the back of your mind. Maybe said in passing from your friends who were Hunters. You only had you a small peak into the depth of their missions, which were kept heavily anonymous. They never gave a name though, not a single inkling of what this 'dangerous mob boss' might look or sound like. One detail that didn't go unnoticed was the fact that no matter how many illegal business deals occurred, civilians were never harmed in the process. Only his competition. Often times, Sylus would get his hands on the goods and be on his way, never leaving a trail behind.
"Briefly."
He cleared his throat, "well, I'm the leader." A mix of emotions flooded you. Shock, disbelief, an ounce of intrigue—Onychinus was a crime ring, one that has never been easy to track, including the man in charge. That man was in your apartment, yet you still didn't want him to leave. "So, then...are you going to have to kill me if I say anything?" Sylus made a sound in response, a scoff that blended into a laugh.
"You wont."
"But, I would understand if you never wanted to see me again. I'm a bad man, you know."
"Something tells me you don't believe you are." You sat up, inching closer to him, his eyes flickered, but he didn't move back. "I don't think a 'bad man' would tell someone that he enjoys travel, learning new languages, or feeding stray cats every Sunday night." His weight shifted, the coiled restraint in his rigid posture softening the more you spoke. "If you truly wanted to get rid of me...wouldn't you have done it by now?"
"That's isn't-"
"Sylus. I'm not afraid of you. I don't exactly know how you got into that role. Protocore and weapon trades, business deals–it's all foreign to me.” You reached for his hand, it dwarfed yours in comparison, his palm rough and calloused. "But you can't just disappear when you waltzed your way into my life…and certainly not after dropping a bomb like that."
He looked down at your intertwined hands, "I want you to be the one to decide, then."
"Decide what?"
His hand slipped from yours.
"What happens after tonight."
A chill ran down your spine, "what do you want to happen?" The space between you opened slightly as Sylus drew himself back. "I only wish you allow me to get to know you properly. No rushing into things, no regrets." Sylus turned to the door, you watched the dent in the cushion disappear where his weight once was. "I don't want to be reckless, not with you. However, I can't seem to sever this...linkage that draws me in, that makes me want more." His hand was on the doorknob now, your eyes traced the edge of his profile as he looked over his shoulder, "what's wrong with that?"
There was an invisible force Sylus couldn't ignore since the day he laid eyes on you and should you accept him, he would be willingly bound.
"I suppose, the fear that the want is one sided." He stood in the doorway for just a second longer, his back turned completely. "Good night, Sweetie."
The door clicked shut and you expelled a deep, shuddered breath. His heavy footfall disappeared down the hall, followed by the faint 'ding' of the elevator door. An ache grew behind your ribs, it felt empty, like a hole had been punched through your chest. The first thing you did was reach for your phone.
🐱–"Please don't disappear on me."
———
His keys hit the entryway table with a thud, the condo was quiet save for his footsteps as he padded to the bathroom—the thoughts clattering against his skull were migraine inducing. Sylus stood beneath the shower's stream, letting the hot water run over his closed eyes. Maybe the heat would balm the throbbing in his head. His hand balled into a fist, then unfurled. He could still feel your touch, the softness of your skin. You smelled like the same perfume you wore the night of your birthday, yet something else lingered behind it, something richer. The scent burned in his nostrils, but he didn't mind the sting. What troubled him the most was the look on your face when he turned to leave. The confusion because maybe you wanted him to stay, the quiver in your lips when his drew back. But for your safety, for now at least, becoming invisible was his only choice.
🪶– "Get some sleep, Kitten."
But you couldn't. Tossing and turning, you ruminated endlessly on what happened earlier that evening. How close he was, again, only to pull away. Sylus mentioned a 'linkage' that kept him drawn to you, yet you couldn't help but feel like there was a canyon dug between you both. Would you have to be the one to lay the foundation, to build the bridge leading to something more tangible? Weeks went by before you heard from Sylus again. He became impossible to get a hold of and you began to wonder if it was deliberate. This felt familiar, a man pours himself out to you, you show interest and then he disappears. That sad, empty sensation in your chest fizzled into heat. An anger so scorching it burned a hole in your chest. Because he wasn't supposed to be the same as every other man, you knew his character—or so you thought. He admitted too much and too soon to be this avoidant and you weren't about to chase him.
———
Three whole months had passed, not that you were counting. There was a chill in the evening air, it made you wrap your arms around yourself as you approached the night club. A combination of cigarette smoke, cheap perfume and alcohol filled your nostrils. Tara and Simone were already inside waiting. They waved you over to the bar, greeting you with smiles and hugs. "I can't believe he just ghosted you like that!," Tara exclaimed, sliding a drink across the bar top. It smelled strong, after just one sip your body felt numb and for now that was better than aching. "Let's...not even talk about that, it's not like it hasn't happened before," you mumbled. But tonight wasn't about wallowing, so you tossed back the fiery liquid, enduring the burn–leaving only a few ice cubes behind. "Actually, fuck it. I'm gonna go dance."
You eased your way into the crowd, feeling the bass thundering in your chest. The music was just loud enough to flood the insecurities, the inhibitions. You moved at an aimless pace, back and forth, side to side. Your hips swayed and arms rose above your head. Nothing mattered now, not Sylus, not the liquor sloshing in your gut. Neon lights illuminated the dance floor, flashing and flickering wildly. You closed your eyes to dull the blur in your vision, occasionally bumping shoulders with a drunk stranger. You didn't care, finally distracted for the first time in months, so much so that the clammy pair of hands that curled around your hips almost went unnoticed. "Hey, gorgeous," a husky voice sneered, their breath hot against your neck. "Never seen you here before." You turned to see the person behind you, his smile was crooked and the stench of too many beers seeped through his pores. "Yeah, here with friends," you replied flatly, clearly uninterested. "What? You can't have one more?," his face twisted with annoyance, you wanted an excuse to escape.
"She was just leaving."
A familiar roughness and warmth pressed against exposed skin on the small of your back where your top began to ride up. A hand much larger than that creep, who was even angrier now. You recognized this voice, its depth and grit. The scent of him was more appealing, too. Cologne so expensive, it could only belong to one person. "Sylus?" He took your wrist and pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring the slurred insults hurled at him in the process. "Why are you here?" Still no answer, but his body was trembling. "Where are my friends?" "They know you're with me." His pace was hurried, as if he was fighting the urge to turn around and give that low life a piece of his mind, or worse. An icy chill hit your face as the two of you burst through the exit and onto the sidewalk. "Sylus, stop!" You ripped your hand away, hugging yourself to brace against the frigid air, trying to conceal every shiver. Sylus paced, his breath leaving in hot, draconian puffs.
"You should have seen the way that scum was gawking at you–smelling like booze and filth–like you were his prey. I had to—."
"I don't even know why you give a fuck," you spat.
His expression fell, slightly wounded. However, the venom that dripped off your tongue didn't stop him from caring as he shook off his jacket and draped it over your trembling frame. A relieved sigh escaped you, the genuine leather trapped heat against your skin almost instantly. "You have every right to be upset, but don't get hypothermia in the process." Sylus curled an arm around you and began to walk. Your mouth betrayed you as a small grin curled at its edges, "thanks...so are you following me now, or something?"
Sylus chuckled, "'or something'...just..tying up loose ends." He wore a softer gaze now, the adrenaline worn off. "I didn't think I'd see you at that awful place, but something told me to go inside. I also wasn't expecting it to hurt this much to be apart." The ice around your heart cracked a fraction, but it was going to take more than a few sweet words to melt the barrier completely. Although, his jacket was very warm, it smelled nice too. Damn, maybe this was working a little bit. "Then why leave at all?"
"Too many prying eyes. I would rather disappear than risk dragging you into my mess." You came to a cross walk, waiting for the light to turn. Several miles and minutes had passed, the signal lights reflected off of puddles, painting the ground in multiple hues. When you finally took in your surroundings, you realized this was the same path home you took months back. Sylus remembered every shortcut and street name, that the lamp outside your apartment complex still needed a new bulb. Someone that wanted to disappear, to forget you for good, wouldn't bother with the details. Or come back at all.
"But if you'll allow it, I'd like to start over." His arm around your shoulder felt heavier, more secure, maybe even a silent claim. It was a sensation you wanted to push further. The alcohol had since left your system, your vision clear and mind firing. You’d address your anger later, even if you hated how your feelings for him were speaking over practicality. This raw, undoubted want was much, much louder.
"On one condition," you said, turning your key in the lock. The warmth returning in your voice was an invitation, as was the tug you gave his arm, pulling him inside. Your living room was lit by a few dim lamps, just enough that you could see Sylus breathing a bit heavier, the crimson shade of his eyes gleaming brighter. You shrugged out of his jacket and sank into that familiar dent in your couch.
"You dance for me, again."
——
Music played off your phone's speaker, the same sensual melody that played all those nights ago. He started with his shoes, toeing out of each one, laces undisturbed. The fluffy carpet absorbed his footsteps as he neared the couch with a leisurely stride. Slender fingers worked at each button of his dress shirt, baring his tanned skin and prominent muscles. You watched the garment fall before letting your eyes drag up the length of his lean torso. There was a vein that ran from his wrist to his bicep, thick and protruding. Thoughts of tracing it with your tongue made you cross your legs so tight they could cramp. Sylus was much closer now, hands resting on his belt. The subtle sway of his hips evolved into a strong, hypnotic rotation. He unclasped the restraint, eyes lidded as he gazed downward.
"Help me," he instructed, low and honeyed.
The leather hissed as you pulled it free, letting it hit the carpet. You had half a mind to reach for his zipper, but stopped before the nerves sent the signal to your hands. Sylus wasn't so shy, dragging it down himself, ensuring you heard the teeth's buzz. There was no time limit now, no friends waiting for you outside the door. Just you, him and the thick rising heat between your bodies. "You know...," Sylus purred, "you're still allowed to touch. I'm in your territory this time." With his consent granted, you smoothed your fingers down his sides, tracing every ridge and valley. A sound escaped him that bordered on a moan and it didn't go unnoticed. Sylus straddled your body, knees on either side, body rolling in slow, agonizing waves. He was a tower so grand and powerful above you, one that you were dying to climb. "Sylus–."
"That night...months ago. I was dishonest, I didn't admit how badly I wanted you. I made you decide where things should go." He stood again, stripping down to nothing but skin tight briefs. "But now, I'm having trouble holding back." Sylus hoisted you into his arms. Your hands splayed across his chest, eyes level, mouths just inches apart. He secured your thighs around his waist.
"Then don't," you exhaled, heart pounding behind your ribs.
There was no hesitation as he leaned in, capturing your bottom lip. The kiss was gentle at first, a peak at his growing desire. Then it deepened as his tongue pushed its way inside your mouth and slid between your teeth. Sylus groaned, his grip on your waist went from tender to bruising. Your bodies fell back on the sofa, with your thighs framing him this time. You sank into his lap and felt the evidence of his need against your core. A hiss ripped from his lips, "patience, Kitten...no need to rush–."
You ground harder, lowering your mouth to his ear, "how do I know you wont leave me again?" His large hand curled around the back of your neck, lips moving to meet yours. "I never want to be without you, I can’t bear it." This kiss tasted different now, reverent, pleading for forgiveness. You whimpered, melting into his embrace, "then show me you'll stay." Sylus flipped your body, caging you against the cushions. His eyes were hazy, face flushed from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. "I will show you every day if I have to." You sighed at the press of his lips on your neck. He trailed them down to your collar bone, one hand slithering up your stomach. "May I?," he asked, toying with the thin strap falling off your shoulder.
"Please."
The fabric tickled as he swept it up and off your torso. His eyes raked over your bare chest, watching the rise and fall of your desperate breath. Sylus palmed your breast, his thumb traced slow circles around your hardening nipple. "So soft...," he admired, lowering his mouth. His tongue was so warm, it lapped and flicked greedily at the bud. "S-Sylus...mmh.." He hummed, giving your other breast equal attention, "more?" You nodded. "Use your words, Kitten."
"Yes, yes I want more."
His mouth descended lower, leaving wet open-mouth kisses on your stomach. Deft fingers dove beneath the waistband of your jeans, "lift your hips." You obeyed, feeling the cool air against your now bare thighs. Sylus lied flat on his stomach, biceps coiling around your legs. He cursed beneath his breath at the sight of the damp stain darkening your panties. "God, look at you..." He pulled them away, humming erotically, "do you know how badly I've wanted to taste you?" Your hands carded through his hair, locking tight around the roots at the first drag of his tongue. "Fuck, Sylus–" His grip became more possessive, face pushing further into your heat. The broad hump of his nose nudged your clit again and again, putting an arch in your spine. Two fingers slid inside and your moans echoed in unison as he pumped at a tortuous pace. You had no idea such pleasure could exist and be given to you so willingly. As if your sounds and taste weren't a gift to Sylus, themselves. A privilege to experience first hand. Every lap and suck was a 'thank you' and this bout of gratefulness had only just begun.
His free hand smoothed over your chest, kneading softly as you continued falling apart against his mouth. "So–mmh–sweet," he groaned, catching the look in your eyes before they rolled back. You could feel his grin curl against your flesh, the breathy chuckle he gave in response to your whines. "What's–ah–so–mmm..funny?," you strained, propping yourself on your elbows. Sylus pulled back, soaked from lips to chin. He kissed a path along your inner thigh, the softness a stark contrast to how greedily he devoured you. "Those sounds...and the look on your face, so cute...," he smiled, fondly this time.
"Now..."
He lowered again, dragging his tongue from entrance to clit.
"Let me make up for lost time."
The reintroduction, the warmth and wetness, made you gasp and squeeze your thighs firmly around his head. The building pressure in your lower belly almost felt foreign after going so long without this kind of pleasure. The kind that blurred your vision and scrambled thoughts that no longer mattered–you almost forgot how angry you were that he left. The louder you moaned, the deeper he dove inside, like oxygen was a second thought. "Let go, Kitten. You've waited so long, held yourself back. I can handle everything you have to give me." He was right, you deserved to be selfish and Sylus's generosity was infinite. It overflowed in the form of praise and stimulation. Heat crawled up your spine before it bowed off the cushions once more and your cries echoed unapologetically. Sylus crashed with you, cushioning your fall with sloppy kisses to your lower lips. He moaned as the taste of you saturated his tongue, "you made such a mess…good girl."
———
It was late again, and as much as you tried to fight the drowsiness, exhaustion won. You remembered the soft kiss to your temple, your body suddenly floating off the couch and the familiar hug of your mattress. Sylus sat at its edge, watching the rise and fall of your chest. His hand ran down the length of your hair, curling the ends around his fingertip. "You're falling asleep," he soothed. You said something, grumbly and muffled by a mountain of pillows. He chuckled quietly, "what was that?" "Didn't do anything...to you...," you sighed. His brow furrowed, "Kitten..."
"I wanted to.."
His gaze softened, that pouty kitten expression he adored was all he needed. "You don't owe me anything, I'm perfectly satisfied."
"Mm...but you'll stay, right?"
That question was answered the next morning. The normally empty space beside you was sunken down by a new weight. Steady breath blew against the back of your neck and a pair of arms were around your waist. "Sylus?," you asked, voice edged with sleep.
"Mm?"
"Nothing, just...making sure I wasn't dreaming." You turned to face him, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. He smelled like a slow morning, a warm musk that had you chasing the scent. “I never go back on a promise,” he said, you liked his voice when it was raw with sleep. Sylus tightened his embrace, kissing your forehead, letting his lips linger before pulling away. “More,” you hummed drowsily. “Sorry?,” he huffed, but with a grin on his face.
“More kisses, now preferably.”
He couldn’t deny such a demand, pressing his lips anywhere they could touch. Your mouth searched for his. When you finally kissed, it was savored slowly, without a care for morning breath. Sylus pulled your bodies flush, groaning low when your leg swung over his hip. You could feel his growing erection, and he wasn’t trying to keep it from you this time.
“Mmh, Sy…”
“Yes?”
Your hand slipped from his hair, dragging down his chest and abdomen before palming the bulge.
“I want this too, please.”
His fingers laced around your wrist, “behave, I’ll give it to you.” The sound of thin fabric dragging down skin filled your ears and the calm, sleepy pulse in your chest grew feverish. Sylus was finally pulled free, warm and resting against your still clothed self. The heat radiated through your underwear, you could feel a prominent vein with the smallest shift of his hips. You moaned quietly to yourself, pushing the garment down and off your ankles. Sylus hissed when he felt how ready you were. “So wet,” he groaned, sliding his cock between your folds, molding his hands to your waist. You ground against him and he followed your rhythm, needy and uneven, hungry with want. “Fuck me, Sylus…please.” A growl rumbled in his chest, he felt hotter in just seconds. Dewy beads of sweat clung to his furrowed brow. “I’ll admit, I like hearing you beg.”
“Please,” you repeated, muffled into his neck, “please…please…please.”
Your supplications earned the first inch of him, the slow stretch feeling like bliss rather than ache. He took his time with you, cataloging every sound and shuddered breath to memory. When he was fully sat inside you, there was a pause in his movements. “I want to feel you,” he sighed, “just…like this.” The intimacy of this kind of closeness, connected at the hip, heartbeats in sync, was like nothing you’d ever felt.
“Sylus…”
“Mmh?”
“Don’t leave…don’t disappear..”
He cradled the back of your head, “I won’t.” His fingers tangled into the hair at your nape, gently tugging your eyes on his. “Focus on me right here, right now. I’m with you.” The sunlight danced in his ruby eyes and painted his features in a soft, golden haze. Your breaths mingled in the closeness, leaving in heavy gusts at the crest of your release. “Right there, god–right there..,” you mewled, scratching faint red lines into Sylus’s back. His hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. It was already humming with sensation, the new contact had your eyes stinging with tears, walls clenching in fluttering pulses. “I’m yours,” he confessed, sucking a mark into your neck.
“Now say it back.”
“Sylus—I’m-,”
“I know you’re close,” he rasped, hands ironclad on your hips. “Say it, I want you to claim what’s yours.”
A lump formed in your throat, you weren’t sure if the new tears streaming down your cheeks were from his words or the strength of his thrusts. Words crawled up your throat like fire just as your legs began to tremble, as you fell apart in his arms.
“You’re mine. Yes, Sylus, you’re mine.”
His hips stuttered then stilled before you felt the warmth of his release. Sylus’s forehead fell to your shoulder, muscles softening as the high waned. He kissed the budding mark on your neck, then your jaw, saving your lips for last. They were puffy and flushed, slotting perfectly with his. He tasted like warmth breath, promises and new beginnings. “Mine,” you repeated against his lips.
He hummed, hugging you close to his chest.
“Yours.”
That’s where you stayed for a long while, tangled in soft bedding and warm beams of sunlight pouring in through sheer drapes. Sleep came and went well into the afternoon. Eventually, you left the sanctuary of bedsheets and retreated to the shower, Sylus following closely behind. He looked different with his hair damp and pushed back, even more handsome than he needed to be. As he dressed, his eyes fixed on the marks left just hours before, “you really didn’t want me to leave, hm?”
“You can go now, if you wanna be cocky,” you retorted, giving him a playful shove.
“I do have to go, but it’s not because I want to…”
You watched him fasten the last few buttons on his shirt, “duty calls, huh?”
“Unfortunately.”
A frown pulled at your lips, but faded as Sylus took hold of your chin. “It’s just for a few days, think you can wait for me?”
“I guess that’s alright.”
He chuckled, “so stubborn,” then tapped his lips with his finger.
It wasn’t a kiss goodbye, not this time. Just, ‘see you in a few days’. But it lingered like it could be your last, like he wanted to memorize the shape of your lips and the taste of your breath.
“Come back in one piece.”
Sylus grinned, halfway out the door, “not a single hair will be out of place.”
You listened to his footsteps disappear down the hall, to the faint ding of the elevator.
“Good.”
*~*~*
a/n: goodness! This was a long writing process. I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading and as always comments, likes and reblogs are welcome and appreciated. Please do not plagiarize, repost or feed into ai.
A Protocore sends you and Sylus three years into the future, where you end up crammed in a closet learning things you were never meant to know.🩷🩷
Caleb's part here Xavier's part here
CW: Smut. P in V. Oral. 🔞MDNI🔞
You were not thinking about it. You were not staring at your ceiling thinking about the N109 Zone or the man who ran it. That was not what was happening. What was happening was that you were resting. Quietly. In your own apartment, which you had every right to be in, doing absolutely nothing that involved Sylus in any way whatsoever.
Work had filled most of your time this week. Back to back missions, three cases that bled into each other, a Thursday briefing that ate the entire day. The Association had kept you moving and moving was good. Moving meant you weren't sitting still long enough to think about things you should not be thinking about.
The problem was tonight there was nothing to move toward.
You'd slowed down. Today's mission had seen to that —a clean operation until it wasn't, until you'd caught the edge of something you'd moved a second too late to avoid and ended up limping through the debrief trying to look unbothered. The Association medic had looked at your leg, told you to rest it, and now you were on your couch. Leg up. Thinking.
You'd worked with Sylus enough times to understand how your arrangement functioned, he had access to things the Association didn't and in exchange you'd give him information he found useful. You showed up. He had what you needed. You left. Repeat.
That part made sense.
What didn't was the rest of it. The part where two weeks of silence felt different now. He was the most wanted name on the Association's list and you were a Deepspace Hunter. The math on that was simple.
So no, you did not miss Sylus.
Your leg throbbed. You shifted your weight and stared at the ceiling again, trying to have an internal conversation about professional conduct and the importance of clear boundaries and then your phone lit up.
You grabbed it so fast you nearly put your elbow through the side table.
Sylus: I heard your mission went sideways. How's the leg?
You: How did you...you know what. Never mind.
Sylus: Mephisto was nearby.
You: You sent your bird to check on me?
Sylus: Mephisto goes where he likes.
You: 🙄🙄
Sylus: He said you were limping.
You: Tell Mephisto to mind his own business.
Sylus: He'll be devastated.
You: Good.
Sylus: I have something that might interest you. Have you ever seen a white Protocore?
You: White Protocores don't exist. Whatever you have is a fake.
Sylus: The seller pulled it from an anomalous Wanderer outside the N109 zone.
You sat with that for a moment.
Sylus: Come see it yourself. You'll want to.
The color alone was impossible by every known framework for protocore classification. Which meant either the seller was running an extremely convincing con, or something had come out of that wanderer that nobody had a category for yet.
Your feet were already on the floor.
You: Don't let anyone touch it. Give me 20 min.
Sylus: No need to rush, kitten. Look out your window.
You crossed the room in four steps and pulled the curtain back an inch.
Black car at the curb. No-parking sign directly above it, ignored completely. Sylus leaned against the driver's side door looking up at exactly the moment you looked down.
He raised his phone.
Sylus: Five minutes. Or I decide the leg is worse than you're letting on and leave.
You let the curtain fall.
"Not a chance," you said, to nobody.
You changed fast —jeans, jacket, hair up, sidearm checked —and ran down the stairs in a time your leg was going to remind you about tomorrow. The night air outside hit you cool and sharp.
Sylus hadn't moved from the car. He looked at you coming through the door, down the steps toward him and said nothing until you were close enough to hear.
"You ran down the stairs?"
"I want to see that Protocore."
"Of course." His mouth curved and there it was, the look that sat underneath the smirk, the one you'd filed away and kept finding again. "That's the only reason."
"It is"
"Then why are you still standing here instead of getting in the car."
You pulled the passenger door open yourself before he could do it, which seemed to amuse him. The interior smelled like expensive leather and him.
He slid in beside you, started the engine— the sound of it vibrating through the seat— and pulled away from the curb without looking at the road for the first two seconds because he was still looking at you.
"My people investigated as much as they could." He shifted gears, smooth and unhurried. "Which is why I need someone who knows what a forgery looks like at that level."
"But you also have people for that"
"I have people for a lot of things." He glanced over. Red eyes catching the streetlight for just a second. "None of them are you."
You looked out the window " Is that a compliment?"
"I didn't say it was."
The N109 Zone came up around you, neon and dark in equal measure, a place that operated on entirely different rules than Linkon City. You'd been here more times than your Association file strictly reflected. You knew the streets. You knew the hierarchy. You knew which doors opened for which names. All thanks to the man sitting in the driver's seat.
You had no idea what a white Protocore was. You had no idea what tonight was going to become but you had a feeling you were about to find out.
His office, you knew this place better than your own.
The reinforced doors. The security overrides, which ones were decoys and which ones actually mattered. The hidden safes, three of them, one behind a painting ugly enough to be forgettable on purpose. You'd learned all of it slowly, standing close enough and quiet enough that he forgot you were paying attention.
The White Protocore sat inside a glass tube at the center of his desk, and you hadn't moved in two minutes.
It looked like the others at first. Same crystalline structure, same geometry. But every other Protocore carried color, blue, gold, pink, red, green and purple. This one just a faint pulse, soft milky light spilling across the dark wood. Strange and uncategorizable.
Sylus wasn't looking at the protocore, he was watching you. His eyes were tracing the curve of your jaw, the focus on your expression. In his world of cutthroat deals and rare power, you were his white protocore.
The back of your neck went warm but you kept your eyes on the protocore.
"Can I touch it?"
A low sound from his chest. Not quite a laugh. "I don't recall ever saying no to you, sweetie."
His fingers worked the glass tube open and lifted the protocore into his palm.
You reached for it.
Your fingers brushed his skin and the protocore sat between your hands for a single second and then —
No warning. Just white light swallowing the desk and the dark walls. Then the wind hit, not from outside but from inside the protocore, like a vacuum pulling in with a force that emptied your lungs before you could inhale. The sound of it was scary, like space tearing apart. The air collapsed into that small white light in your hands, the floor dropped away and you were falling without falling.
The first thing that came back was pressure.
Arms locked across your chest and shoulders, tight enough your ribs couldn't move. Something solid at your back. You tried to breathe. Couldn't. Tried again.
"Sy" Barely a whisper. "Can't— brea—"
His arms dropped instantly.
He was on his feet before you inhaled, one fluid motion, hand going to his gun, eyes sweeping the room. No targets. His hand dropped, but his shoulders stayed coiled, still reading the space.
You sat up. Pulled air in slowly until your chest stopped aching.
"Where are we?"
He didn't answer. Still looking.
You looked too.
Dark wood, heavy draping, expensive things chosen for use as much as looks. It felt like his place at first glance.
In the corner was a record player, vinyl turning silently, needle down, producing nothing. Beside it a bookshelf climbed straight to the ceiling, a ladder running the whole length on a track.
On the low table in front of the couch sat two glasses of wine. One half empty. Whoever had been drinking had stepped away expecting to come right back.
You stood slowly.
Sylus had crossed to the far side of the room. His head was angled down at something on the shelf.
You crossed after him, boots loud on the floor.
"Sylus."
He didn't turn.
You came up beside him, followed his eyeline, and stopped.
A photograph. You in your Hunter uniform with a different insignia of a rank you didn't hold yet, holding a trophy. Your smile in the photo was wide open and unguarded, a version of happy you didn't wear on your face very often.
There was a small engraved plaque at the bottom of the frame.
Hunter of the Year — November 2051.
You picked up a magazine beside it.
Your face on the cover. Same uniform, same trophy, same smile. Hunter of the Year in bold letters across the top. Small print in the corner, neat and impossible.
November 2051.
You set it down carefully.
Behind you, Sylus had already moved to the mahogany desk near the windows. Papers shifted. Folders opened and closed. His hands stayed busy and his face gave nothing.
"Sylus." You kept your voice steady. "Look at me."
He didn't.
You crossed to the desk and placedd your hand flat over the document he was holding.
"Three years," he was staring at nothing in particular, whatever was running behind his eyes not making it to his face.
You looked at the half empty glass. The record player still turning in silence. A coat hanging by the door.
"Sylus."
"I see it."
"That's your coat."
"This is one of my safehouses"
"Since when do you keep pictures of the Association Hunters? Last I checked you called us glorified errand runners."
A slow smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth "I've got a taste for beautiful art, sweetie, and maybe I like having a permanent reminder of my favorite headache."
"I'm not your—"
"Someone's coming." his eyes sharpened, hand closing around your wrist.
"Who—"
"This way." He was already pulling you toward a closet.
He yanked the door open expecting to see his weapons.
There were no rifles or guns, just stacked piles of the same magazine you saw earlier, floor to ceiling, your face on every cover, hundreds of them.
"Do you also collect magazines?" you asked, fighting to keep your voice down as he shoved you into the tiny space and squeezed in after you, pulling the door shut. "This is a lot of me for one closet"
"If you keep talking you're going to get us both caught."
You bit down on a laugh and then it died in your throat completely.
The door clicked open and Sylus stepped into the room.
You gasped, turning on instinct to check whether he had somehow warped himself out there with his Evol, but he hadn't moved an inch.
Future Sylus's hair was a mess, like he'd run his hands over it more than once, and a bit longer than you were used to. His shirt was wrinkled, streaked faintly with mud, stretched tight across shoulders that looked broader than the ones currently pressed beside you in the dark. There was more color in his face too, like time had put some weather on him. He paced the length of the room like a caged animal, fists clenching and releasing at his sides. He stopped mid stride, head turning like he'd caught a sound in the room, inside Sylus's hand shot out, closing around your wrist as one finger came up to his lips, a silent order to stay quiet.
Then the door opened again, and future you walked in.
She looked pissed. Shirt torn at the shoulder, soot and dirt ground into the fabric, but her eyes were lit up with anger.
She was you, there was no doubt about that, but she was different. There was more color to her face too and her body was softer in some places, sturdier in others.
"You had no right, Sylus!" She slammed the door behind her "I can still fight! I had that under control!"
"You almost got killed" Sylus didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. Whatever was in his tone was cold enough to make the room feel smaller.
"That's a fucking lie and you know it!" She crossed the space between them fast, jabbing a finger into his chest. "I'm not some damsel for you to decide when I fight and when I don't!"
Beside you Sylus dipped his head, lips grazing the shell of your ear. "Different year. Same feisty kitten." His breath felt warm against your neck.
"Shut up, Sylus. Shut up" you hissed, elbowing him in the ribs. He huffed out a quiet laugh like you'd done him a favor.
Outside, the fight kept climbing.
"You think you can pull me off a fight and take me wherever you want?" her voice bounced off the ceiling. "I'm a Hunter, Sylus. I'm not joining Onychinus. Not now, not ever, no matter how many times you bring it up."
"You've made that perfectly clear."
"It's my job, Sy"
"Not anymore, it isn't."
"You don't get to make that call for me!"
He didn't answer with words. He started walking her back instead, one slow step for every one she gave up without notice, until her spine hit the ladder bolted to the bookshelf.
She was out of room. He planted a hand on either side of her head against the wooden rungs, boxing her in.
"Are you sure about that, sweetie?" Not a question so much as a challenge.
"We don't even know ye— get out of my space!"
"Make me."
Their faces were a breath apart now, close enough that the argument had stopped sounding like an argument. Through the door you felt the air on the other side change, something thick and charged, like the silence that comes right before either a fight or something worse. Your face went hot just watching it, the line between the two of them hating each other and wanting each other collapsing.
"I hate you"
"Good," he murmured so close to her lips. "You can hate me all you want, Mrs. Qin. You're still wearing my ring."
He closed the distance, hand curling around the back of her neck, and kissed her like it was the only thing he had left to say.
Beside you Sylus went completely still.
Future you made a sound against his lips that started as surprise and turned into a moan, her hands coming up to grip his shirt before she dropped them and grabbed him instead.
You turned to look at Sylus, his eyes dropped to yours and a slow smile moved across his mouth and your stomach went with it.
His shirt hit the floor first, hers followed.
Future Sylus lifted her off the floor and settled her onto a rung of the ladder. She grabbed the rung above her head to steady herself and he stepped back just far enough to look at her, taking his time with it while she sat there catching her breath.
Then he reached for her boots.
He pulled the first one off, fingers working the laces without looking down, eyes on her face the whole time. The second followed. He set his hands on her knees and dragged them up her thighs and she made a small sound before he'd even done anything.
His mouth found her collarbone. Moved down. The thin lace of her bra was still on and he put his lips over it anyway, tongue pressing through the fabric against her nipple, and her head went back against the ladder. He bit down through the fabric, and the sound she made was immediate.
You pressed your hand to your mouth.
He did it again on the other side, slower, and her knuckles went white on the rung above her while her hips moved forward looking for something that wasn't there yet.
He kissed down her sternum. The soft skin below her ribs. His mouth dragged across her stomach and she was already breathing in pieces by the time his hands moved to her pants. He worked them down her legs and off, then dropped to his knees.
You made a small sound against your hand.
He was now on his knees between her thighs, hands finding the backs of them, hooking her legs one at a time over his shoulders. The muscles in his arms and neck shifted with the motion and he settled her weight there easily, like he'd done it before. Because in three years he had. Many times. You could tell by how she exhaled when her legs landed on his shoulders— relief. Her whole body recognizing what was coming.
He looked up at her.
Hands spread across her inner thighs, holding them open, red eyes on her face, waiting.
She looked down at him.
Her chest was moving fast. Her lip caught between her teeth. She held his gaze for one long second and then, quietly, barely enough to hear—
"Please."
His fingers found her thong and pulled it to the side.
One hand went to his hair, pulling him in, the other stayed above her head. Her nipples were hard against the wet lace.
Every sound came through clearly. His mouth on her wet pussy. Her breathing. Your face burned. Other things burned. You pressed your thighs together and it didn't help because the sounds didn't stop.
You turned to look at him again.
His right eye burned red in the dark closet. His chest rose and fell in a rhythm that wasn't steady.
"Sy—"
"Don't stop." Future you's voice came through the door, breathless. "Fuck, Sy...just like that."
Your face went hotter and you faced forward again.
Sylus exhaled against your hair. His hand was still on your wrist. Neither of you had moved it.
He made a sound against her and the sounds that followed were louder and wetter.
Your fingers found the front of his jacket and held on.
"Is this affecting you?" he asked, right against your ear.
"Shut up."
Then her voice again, completely gone, nothing held back. "Yes — baby, my clit, suck on it — fuck yes—"
His hand tightened on your wrist. Hard.
"Sylus." Your voice came out dry. Broken in the middle. Not what you'd intended at all.
"I know," he said.
Future you screamed his name. The closet pressed in from all sides.
"We need to leave"
"Yes," he agreed, but neither of you moved.
Her thighs locked around his shoulders and shook. He stayed until the last tremor left her. Then he stood, chest glistening, and his hands dropped to the button of his trousers.
Popped it open. Pushed the fabric down his thighs.
The outline of his cock through the fabric of his underwear made your throat close. The tip already wet, a dark circle spreading through the cotton, and his fingers found the waistband—
A large hand came down over your eyes.
"Hey—" You grabbed his wrist. His fingers didn't move.
"If you want a show," his voice low at your ear, "you only have to ask."
"Move your hand." You twisted your head. His palm stayed exactly where it was.
Dark behind it.
Then the sounds hit again.
Slap.
Slap.
Slap.
Skin against skin. Her voice breaking between each impact, the sounds coming in waves that your brain immediately started filling in visuals for and that was so much worse than if he'd just let you look.
"You're burning up," he said against your ear, not in concern but in pure mockery.
Your thighs pressed together hard. "I swear to god—"
His fingers spread open.
She was still on the ladder. Legs locked around his waist, both of them flushed, sweat catching the light. He had one hand on her hair, holding her close to his face, their mouths almost touching, breathing the same air while his hips rolled forward in deep slow drives that shook her whole body. He was saying something to her, too low to carry, but whatever it was kept fracturing her expression every time he said it.
Then his voice came through clearly.
"Look at me." Steady, even over everything else. "Tell me who you belong to."
Her tongue dragged across his upper lip. "Yours—" Her head dropped back. "Ah— yours, Sy, I'm yours—"
Your underwear felt damp and your clit was pulsing with a persistence you were doing your very best to ignore.
"Do you really think," Sylus whispered against your temple, "it takes us three whole years to get here?"
"I don't—"
Future Sylus pulled back, his tongue dragged slow up her throat while she panted against his shoulder. "You taste different today."
"Because you're—" she gasped, "—you're driving me insane—"
"That's not it." He pushed forward, one deep thrust that tore a cry out of her "You shouldn't be taking field hits right now." A beat. "Not when you're carrying my child."
The closet went cold.
Your jaw dropped. Hers did too.
Pregnant.
The argument. Him yanking her off the mission. All of it clicked into place at once. She was carrying his baby. In three years, you'd be carrying his kid.
Your knees went out from under you.
Your foot caught on something hard as you stumbled back. A stack of magazines toppled with the movement, and everything blurred, sound, vision, all of it going soft at the edges.
"—watch—"
Crimson light cracked through the dark. Sylus's Evol flared, and every falling magazine froze mid air.
The energy didn't stay contained. It rolled out through the closet door and everything on the other side went dead silent.
The sounds stopped. All of them. What replaced the noise had weight to it.
Sylus's eyes were locked on the door. Jaw tight. Not a muscle moving.
"Pathetic," future Sylus said, clear, not a trace of what he'd been doing thirty seconds earlier, "a top tier Hunter and the leader of Onychinus, hiding like toddlers playing hide and seek."
Your stomach dropped straight through the floor.
"Sylus?" Future you, breathless, confused. "Who are you talking—"
"I know you're in there." He sounded almost bored. "You're both breathing like horny teenagers."
Beside you, Sylus exhaled through his nose and reached out to push the door open. "I could say the same"
He stepped out first, glanced down at his sleeve, and flicked off a piece of lint that probably wasn't there. Then he reached back, hooked an arm around your waist, and pulled you out with him. You stumbled onto the polished floor, face burning hot enough to set the room on fire.
Future Sylus had future you pulled against him, her bra strap slipping off one shoulder, hair a wreck, and she was staring between the two of you with her mouth hanging open.
"Is that—" Her eyes went from you to the Sylus standing next to you and back again. "Are we— are they—"
Sylus looked at his future self. Future Sylus looked right back.
Three seconds of silence passed between them, and somehow it felt like an entire conversation.
"You look good," Sylus said.
"And you are interrupting," future Sylus said, arm tightening around future you.
You stopped watching the two of them and scanned the room instead.
There. The White Protocore, sitting beside the wine bottle, pulsing soft in the low light.
You moved before anyone could stop you, crossed the room, and closed your hand around it.
Sylus was right behind you. His hand landed over yours, the stone was caught between your palms again, warm and humming under your skin. He tossed one last glance over his shoulder at his future self and smirked.
White swallowed everything. The floor vanished, and then thud.
The familiar light of his office in the N109 Zone.
You were flat on your back, staring at the ceiling, just breathing.
The Protocore rolled out of your hand and knocked against the leg of his desk before it dissolved into dust.
Sylus sat up, forearm braced on a raised knee, and looked down at you, smirk already back in place. His gaze dropped to your mouth, your throat, the way your chest was still heaving.
"So," he said, leaning over you with one hand braced on the floor beside your head. "A baby."
You threw an arm over your face. "I will shoot you again."
"I'm just thinking ahead." His fingers found a strand of your hair "Sounds like we've got a lot of work to do in the next three years, Miss hunter."
synopsis . Zuko rewarding his favorite servant after a long day of obedience and loyalty. content . afab!reader, forbidden relationship, pet play(?), dirty talk, degradation, servant!reader, face fucking, petnames, power play, switch dynamics, praise, oral sex (m!receiving), mentions of his honor (lol), etc.
“Does the mutt want a treat?” There's a certain warmth that comes with Zuko's words, no matter how harsh they may be.
And as you're sitting on the floor beneath him, you can't find it in yourself to be concerned with being addressed as such a degrading term. If anything, you'd been begging for the fire lord to treat you like this for months. Ever since your little scandalous relationship began, the two of you have steadily gotten more and more debauched with your private acts of pleasure.
Right now was no different.
“I’ve had a long day, and I’ve been thinking about this since earlier." Zuko's hands are at his belt and you're struggling not to drool from the sight presented before you.
He stands over you so tall and proudly, royal garments shrugged off only moments ago as his sculpted chest remain bare for your hungry eyes. The average servant could only dream of finding themself in such a position. You were instructed to keep your eyes up on his, but it was hard to follow orders once he tugged his cock free from the pesky fabrics in the way and then let it lightly tap against your face.
One hand was taut at his thick base whilst the other moved to palm the back of your head, forcing you to angle your face upwards as his hips worked to push his dick along the curve of your devastatingly gorgeous face. It nearly pained Zuko to see such a beautiful woman living the life of a servant. And to make matters worse, he simply despised how he couldn't have you in the traditional sense.
Even the fire lord had certain rules and traditions he couldn't break nor bend. Apparently, taking a lowly servant as one of his concubines was one of them.
Though, it’s not as if that truly changes whether or not he gets what he wants.
The head of his cock drools profoundly against your skin, leaving a nasty trail of need against you as he reels his hips back and lets his tip draw something sinful across your face. The people of the court would shudder if they knew of the things he did to you when no one else was around.
A hum vibrates lowly against his throat before he moves his cock to smear against your lips. "You were running your mouth so much-, mmh.. talking to—oh, who was it again? Sokka, right?” His brow pushes inward to scrunch and you nearly whine for him to enter your mouth already.
Containing yourself—just barely—you nod in response to his question, which ultimately causes his dick to slide to the right of your face.
Zuko smiles, “Yeahh, and like a good, loyal girl you turned down that offer of his. I’m so-," He pauses to let out a huff, smacking his cock against your cheek all crudely before finally dragging back over to your lips and then pushing past them. "Shit.. so proud of you.”
“Mnngh,” You're humming around his length as soon as it fills your mouth and you couldn't be more happy with yourself.
Earlier that day, Sokka had made a comment on how diligently you work and offered you a better serving position within his tribe. Loyal to a fault, yet not blind how stupidly handsome Sokka may be, you begrudgingly declined.
Which is why you’re being rewarded now.
“Tastes good, right?” He asks rhetorically, his throbbing shaft busy gliding down the center of your tongue and deep into your throat. It was rare that Zuko wanted to give your mouth a proper fucking, yet given the events of today, he simply had to grace your mouth with his presence. “Nod if you like your treat.”
You do exactly that, stupidly moving your head up and down whilst tears prick the corners of your eyes. He filled your throat up entirely and stretched your mouth open wide enough to bring pain to your jaw.
Then one of his hands move to pat at your head and his hips buck forward rudely, “Atta’ girl. What would people think if they saw how I stretched your mouth open like this, I wonder. Calling you a mutt…” He feels the way you moan around him as the term is thrown your way again—leading his mouth to quirk up into a smile. “…feeling how you moan around me because you like it so much. Hah.”
You began to swallow around him at the perfect moment and his nearly cocky expression breaks into the one you usually receive from him—one of pure, utter submissiveness.
“T-Tell me something, my loyal servant,” He tugs his cock out of your mouth for only a few seconds just to adjusts his hips and dangle the girth over your face. “Even as I debauch you like this, do you still think I’m an honorable ruler?”
Precum and spit drips down onto you, but you hardly bat an eye. Gulping shyly before whispering, “Of course, my lord.”
Zuko nearly rolls his eyes at the title, “Speak freely.”
You grin, leaning up and moving your mouth to his tip so you can suck at it—then your tongue rounds his head only once before you release a light pant against his feverish skin.
With your hand lifting to wrap around his base, you let his cock smack against the tongue you soon stick out before saying, “I think it’s most honorable how you treat me like this simply because I’ve asked you to. You call me a mutt,” Your tongue laps along the side of his dick and he shivers, “And then feed me like one with your cock. All whilst looking at me with those cute, apologetic eyes—as if you don’t really mean it.”
Zuko’s resolve breaks completely right then and there, and he whines upon watching you plant kissing across his every inch.
“I think you’re an honorable ruler because no one else in the Fire Nation knows how you submit yourself into the whims of some servant girl who’s mouth you can’t seem to keep your cock out of,” The moment you finish with your explanation, you’re taking him down your throat with quick, needy bobs of your head.
The fire lord’s footing shifts and he nearly stumbles with you, both hands flying to the side of your head to brace himself for how perfect your mouth feels. It’s in moments like this where he wonders why he doesn’t do this more often.
“T-That makes-, fuck.. no sense,” He refutes baselessly, a whine flopping off of his tongue mere seconds later.
You tug your lips and tongue away from his cock—drool spilling down onto your thighs and the floor below—and your lashes bat up at him. “Zuko,” his name from your throat makes him shudder again. “You’re an honorable ruler because I say so.”
Now his lashes were batting back at you and he found himself at a loss of words. He couldn’t quite argue with you when you were right. Had you said no, he would’ve agreed anyway.
People would be of great shock if they knew the real power you hold over him.
“Now,” You roll your tongue out once more, then place your hands behind your back, “Be a good boy and keep rewarding me, won’t you?”
The fate of the Fire Nation’s future could be found somewhere in your demands and Zuko hadn’t a single argument against it.
He’d do anything for you—even thrash his cock through your throat as you’ve asked him to, despite this being a severely forbidden relationship.
That Time the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer Got Turned into a Temu Sex Toy
Summary: Gojo Satoru always thought he was ready for anything, but sometimes even the strongest sorcerer ends up surprised. How he ended up as a rose toy, Satoru wasn't exactly sure, but as long as he successfully defeated Ryomen Sukuna...well, everything should be fine, right?
an: special thanks to @teasythe for pitching this and brainstorming crack with me :3
content warning: mdni, smut?, this is gonna be relatively tame compared to my typical work tbh
Ch 1 of 3, wc: 3.1k
There was nothing you believed in more than consistent, quality stress relief. You knew there were all kinds of ways that people went about it, but for you, stress management was a simple as having regular orgasms.
Given that masturbation was integral to your functioning as a relatively normal human being, you don't know why it took you so long to buy a sex toy.
Okay, maybe you did.
The embarrassment of walking into a sex store was too much, and you had always lived with roommates until recently, so you couldn't risk someone opening up your package and discovering your dirty little secret.
Admittedly, you were being a little dramatic about it.
But that was your right.
It wasn't that big of a deal. You always used whatever you had at your disposal. Your hands, the bathtub faucet, the odd pillow…and you were perfectly happy with that arrangement.
Until you saw that stupid influencer video about the infamous rose toy.
It was clearly an ad. Definitely something that the perky,excessively enthused, girl's girl in the video was making commission on. The supplied link probably led to a dropshipper, too.
That video couldn't have been longer than thirty seconds, but it was stuck in your mind on a permanent loop after seeing it. The promise of the best orgasm you'd ever had was a hard idea to shake, especially when said orgasm could be achieved with minimal time and effort. Not that you didn't like to take your time…but sometimes a woman just needs to get a quick one in before bed, and that was exactly what the lady in the video claimed the rose toy could accomplish for you.
All it took was one late night after a glass of wine and an underwhelming romp with your trust body pillow, and suddenly you were looking at tracking information. Your very own rose toy in original hot pink (you thought black was classier, but that model was extra).
The package was due to arrive just before the weekend, which meant that you would have the perfect opportunity to break in your very first sex toy.
Rationally, you knew that a sex toy you bought for $13.37 on a wholesale website couldn't be that incredible, but you would have been lying if you claimed you weren't ridiculously excited. It might have been dumb, but you spent a significant amount of time that week thinking about the toy, crafting the perfect fantasy about how awesome it would be to use it.
So, it was only fair that you were disappointed when you tore open the dented box to find the rose toy of your dreams was an obnoxious shade of blue.
"Blue?" You muttered. "That wasn't even an option."
You turned the toy in your hand, feeling the smooth silicone under your fingers. It seemed like it was fairly good quality, although the condition of the box and the color being different than described had already set your expectations low.
Oh well.
None of that was going to stop you from using it.
Gojo Satoru had endured many trials and tribulations as the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Being cursed and sealed were practically part of the job.
He just hadn't expected to end up being cursed and sealed in such a unique and perverted way.
Regaining consciousness to find that he was trapped inside of a sex toy in some remote warehouse had been…upsetting, to say the least. Satoru couldn't recall exactly how it had happened. The last thing he remembered was fighting Ryomen Sukuna in a battle to the death.
Actually, Satoru had expected to die in that battle. Maybe he did, and this was the universe balancing out his past life as the richest, sexiest, strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Not that the theory made much sense. He definitely still had his Six Eyes, a veritable blessing considering his current form had zero real eyes. It was strange because he could still sort of sense things, just not with the acuity that he had been able to with a human body.
Taking that into account, it probably was some kind of fucked up, lewd, Prison Realm situation.
Luckily, Satoru had trained for this.
Being alone in the dark for what was conceivably eternity was fine with him as long as Sukuna wasn't loose killing everybody he cared about. Satoru could rest easy in his silicone shell knowing that he had done what he had set out to do. It was almost peaceful, like he really was dead.
At least, it had been peaceful…until some dickhead took his box and threw it (with notably excessive force) into the postal system.
Getting flashbanged by the overhead light in your apartment was almost as annoying as the swirl of disappointed energy on your face.
What was worse, however, was the ominous number hanging over your head.
500
Whatever that meant.
"Blue?" You muttered. "That wasn't even an option."
Satoru rolled his metaphorical eyes. What kind of weirdo doesn't like blue?
He could actually feel your touch, although the sensation wasn't tied to any identifiable part of his body. Still, after years of near-constant Infinity, it was admittedly nice to actually feel the warmth of someone's skin.
It was only when you began to carry him to your bedroom that reality sunk in.
Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, had been reduced to a single woman's cheap rose toy.
Damn.
At least you seemed cute.
Given that he had never been a rose toy before, Satoru wasn't exactly sure how to behave. He wasn't particularly happy with his situation either—Satoru had stopped having meaningless hookups years ago.
He was still kind of trying. Sort of. At least as much as he would if he was pressed against any stranger's genitals. It didn't help that he kept getting distracted. There was something oddly familiar about your cursed energy, something that kept pulling at his attention while he was trying to figure out how to vibrate.
That only made your frustration with his 'malfunctions' more infuriating.
"I knew I shouldn't have trusted such a sketchy site." You groaned. "I guess it was stupid hoping for something powerful. I should just toss this thing in the garbage."
As it turned out, an eternity in a landfill was actually a pretty good motivator.
It definitely had nothing to do with your implication that Satoru was weak.
Satoru got to work, kicking himself into high gear. He still wasn't used to his body being like this, but a little imagination seemed to go a long way. It was just like eating pussy. Almost. There was definitely a suction element to it.
And he actually got the hang of it, feeling a little smug when you started to whine and seize up. Sure, he would have preferred some 'Ohhh~Gojo~!' or at least a 'thank you', but he was trying to temper his expectations.
You came pretty quickly, all things considered, soaking what Satoru imagined would have been his face if he was a man. Usually an encounter like this would have left Satoru feeling profoundly empty. While he certainly wasn't thrilled about his circumstances, there was a strange sense of accomplishment blooming within him.
Maybe that would kick in soon, though, because you were about to drop him in the top drawer of your nightstand. Satoru found himself conflicted. He had been resigned to the darkness before all of this, but now that he had other options…well, he was starting to hope you might forget to put him away sometimes.
It was just before you closed the drawer that Satoru caught a glimpse of something odd. The number floating over your head had changed.
499
Fuck.
Satoru felt what might have been his heart sink. If his hunch was correct, he wasn't getting back to being human any time soon, and the journey was looking to be anything but quick and simple.
This woman better be horny.
Your rose toy was more effective than anything you could have ever hoped for.
You'd had a bit of a rough start, but once you figured out how to use the thing, it had resulted in a quick trip to the most absolutely bananas, batshit insane, mindblowing orgasm of your life. The rose toy was a godsend, and while you never did figure out how to try all the different settings, the one the toy was stuck on did the job just fine. It was hard not to think about it while you went about your business that day, your mind wandering back to your rose toy over and over again.
You couldn't wait to use it again…and maybe once or twice more after that.
It had been a crackpot theory at first, but the number ticked down every time Satoru made you climax, and as that number got lower, Satoru began to feel more and more like himself. He had become better at sensing his environment, although most of the time there wasn't much of anything to sense inside your nightstand.
Maybe it was a curse, or perhaps Satoru had accrued some kind of sex debt he wasn't aware of…
Regardless, it seemed that the strongest sorcerer was stuck as a rose toy for the time being.
Sometimes it was difficult to not resent you. Objectively, Satoru knew that it (probably) wasn't your fault he had ended up like this, but knowing that his being freed hinged on how frisky you were feeling made it difficult to not feel impatient when you weren't in the mood.
Most of the time you were consistent. Satoru could expect you to use him before bed, and maybe a little extra on the weekends or if you were feeling stressed during the week. He tried to make it good for you, not because he cared about how you felt, but rather to entice you into going another round.
However, after a few months Satoru felt that he had really gotten to know you, and he started to feel a little invested in your pleasure. It was him doing all of this for you, after all. As the orgasm debt went down, Satoru began to get more sensation in his 'body', and as a result, he started feeling unusually aroused by your sessions together.
Satoru was fairly certain that it wasn't possible for him to cum like this, so essentially he was being edged continuously. He was kind of into it though; he wouldn't have been Gojo Satoru if he didn't have a complicated relationship with restraint and denial. It almost felt intimate, like you were teasing him with his eventual release.
That release being freedom of course. Satoru wasn't expecting you to get him off after he magically emerged from your rose toy, or whatever bullshit would happen when this weird curse was finally broken. It would probably freak you out enough for there to suddenly be a man between your legs; Satoru didn't need to make it worse by creeping you out immediately after.
But it was hard to not fantasize about it, especially when he already knew so much about that version of you.
How easy it was for him to get you wet, the way you looked when you were right on the edge, the little sounds you made when you got close and the way they disappeared entirely when he really made it good for you…
Satoru wasn't even halfway through the debt when he finally realized that things were going to be much more complicated than he had initially expected.
He liked you. A lot.
Satoru couldn't help misinterpreting your attachment to him as something more than a woman's affection for modern convenience. At times, he found himself deliberately fantasizing about being in your bed as more than just a masturbatory aid…although there were plenty of times that he considered still being your masturbatory aid, but as a man instead of a rose toy.
His delusions only became worse when you took him on vacation with you.
Satoru could sense the mix of embarrassment and stubborn defiance coming off of you when you were pulled aside specifically because he set off the scanners at the airport.
"No, you can't take it—" You said firmly. "What are you trying to imply? It's clearly my sex toy."
Hearing you call him your sex toy may or may not have made Satoru nearly start accidentally vibrating right there in the agent's gloved hands.
As time went on, seeing the number hanging over your head go down became less about being free of his plastic prison, and more about being able to have you for real. It might have just been the continuous edging, but Satoru was becoming obsessed with the idea of taking you out on a date before bringing you home and absolutely railing the shit out of you. While Satoru wasn't opposed to the romance of missionary or the animal experience of taking you from behind, what he was really craving was throwing your legs over his shoulders and looking directly into your eyes while he sank himself all the way inside your cunt.
He would settle for just about anything if you called out his name though.
You loved your rose toy. Your attachment to it might have even been a little unhealthy, but it didn't matter because you didn't see a therapist, so there was no one with real credibility who could tell you that.
None of your friends believed you when you told them that it literally never needed to be recharged. Everyone you had recommended it to had followed the same link but received something decidedly lackluster. Searching online yourself had produced no explanation either.
Crazy or not, you had gotten it into your head that your rose toy was special.
Your friend, and the only medical professional you planned on speaking to about it, Ieiri Shoko, was the sole person who heard you out about it.
"Maybe it's cursed." Shoko sighed, taking a drag of what must have been her six or seventh cigarette that evening. "You could have it exorcised—I know a guy."
"And risk ruining the best thing I've ever owned?" You scoffed. "No thanks, I think I'll take my chances."
You shook your head. Whatever was up with your rose toy, it definitely didn't feel like a curse.
Satoru's days started to blur together, an endless cycle of darkness and pleasing you. His most exciting days outside of the occasional weekend trip were the times you forgot to put him back in your nightstand, and he wasn't exactly proud of all his time spent watching you sleep.
Whether or not he sometimes vibrated in the middle of the night to wake you up in hopes that you would use him to put yourself back to sleep…well, that was between him and the theoretical sex toy god.
It was just after the counter over your head hit double digits that something at work started to really stress you out, and you began using Satoru at such a rate that he actually started to become a little concerned. He felt for you, really identified with the feeling of having the world on his shoulders.
Sure, there was a big difference between end of quarter pressure and the literal entire world counting on you, but Satoru empathized all the same. You would feel better soon enough anyway—Satoru had plans to really help you relieve your stress once that number over your head hit zero.
That had been the plan…until your work troubles became so severe that you stopped using Satoru entirely.
It was a predictable spiral. Your life had gotten out of control, first to a manageable degree, and then to an absolutely unmanageable one. Your typical methods were starting to feel a little excessive, so you decided to give your poor rose toy a break, and things had only become worse from there.
You hadn't meant to completely abstain—it just happened.
Truthfully, you would have preferred to get back to your routine, but you had some kind of mental block. The idea of getting yourself off was in your head almost constantly—you just couldn't bring yourself to actually do it.
The pressure at work got so bad that you decided to try something different. It would be a drastic change, but it might help you kick-start your usual habit. You felt weirdly bad about it, like you were doing something wrong by buying yourself a new toy, but it was the only thing you could think of trying.
Frankly, a nineteen inch dildo was excessive, but honestly it was the absurdity of it that really cheered you up. You had found the silly thing on the same sketchy website that you had purchased your rose toy, so you had unreasonably high hopes about how it would work out.
The package came fairly quickly, a blessing considering you really needed to get your hands on it while you still had the motivation to try it out.
It was just as ridiculous as it sounded. Massive, thick, and surprisingly lacking in floppiness for its length, you practically skipped all the way to the bedroom with your new monstrous, light pink dildo and complimentary bottle of lube in hand.
Satoru knew what was happening as soon as you opened the front door—he just didn't want to believe it.
You had been giddy all day, happier than Satoru had seen you in a few weeks. The number 10 floating above your head had been taunting him the entire time, and he had foolishly allowed himself to feel hopeful right up until the moment you brought that infernal thing inside.
A new sex toy. A massive dildo, one you seemed to be completely enamored with, one that had an unmistakable, malevolent presence.
Satoru wouldn't have believed it if it weren't for his own situation.
In your hands, your upsettingly eager hands, was the one and only King of Curses.
maybe a month too late, but i wanna talk about darkbound souls
i'm really unsatisfied with the analysis of this card and it lives rent free in my mind 😭 the majority of my timelines was just people arguing with each other about whether their fetishes got confirmed or not and no one was talking about the card yk
choosing sylus as a LI for me came very easily because he is the only character i know who values freedom and agency as much as i do. and DS? all about MC's freedom and agency.
throughout the entire story MC is struggling with the fact someone put a bounty on her. she is sad, frustrated, lost, torn between trusting the HA and doubting it would find the perpetrator and punish him. she spends her vacation worrying away. sylus never once forces her into anything, even though he sees exactly what she wants.
he is like a little devil on her left shoulder, except he only wants her to express herself. to take what she wants and she needs. he feeds her desire because she can cultivate it, because she deserves it. orders more lasagna for her, just because she likes it. challenges her in the way they do.
never once does he make the decision himself. he does not find graymist to punish him on his own. he waits for her sign. when she says she's ready, he's right there behind her.
when she chooses not to hurt graymist, he never tries to change her mind. he asks why, never in a prying, how could you way. sylus never wanted her to act like he wants - he only wanted her to make a choice for herself, to be free to decide. and once she decided, he wouldn't hold her own will against her.
sylus wants MC to be greedy not for his sake or because this is how he is and expects the same from his partner, but because MC is greedy in her heart and she's holding herself back because in her mind she is not supposed to act that way. she has reservations because she has standards to uphold to, created by the association, as well as by society.
sylus sees this and feels this. they are one soul split in two. they are the same.
and this entire card is full of love. truly, in my opinion, it is one of the sweetest cards ever. sex/desire/passion does not exclude softness.
MC plops down on the floor in starfish position and sylus is right there with her. she breaks the bed and sylus gets really worried she hurt herself. she decides to sleep on him and he says it's a good choice because she always sleeps well there. finally, he gives her an outfit and jokes she can just go naked, since he's the only one watching her.
the way all of their interactions are domestic, comfortable, full of love and familiarity (even - or especially - the teasing ones) is truly what they deserve after everything that has happened in their previous lives. this is the longest they have been together, the longest they can enjoy each other's company, and the most time they had to discover one another. and you can see that.
finally, the kindled is just as full of love as the entire card. they tease each other like crazy with MC tapping his cheek, biting him, saying he's too heavy. this is that comfortable banter we hear in their secret times, rivalry that gets them going but never crosses the line of safety.
they both have always been outcasts, monsters, they have been hunted and hurt, and so the trust they put in each other is even more evident. sylus, who used to cut off his horns, trusts MC with her hands on his head. sylus, the archfiend feared for his power and fangs smiles at MC biting his chest, right next to his heart.
sylus, whose eyes shine when he desires her, asking MC to tell him she wants him. and it's not possessive, never about taunting her or making her feel small, it's not the predatory "you fell into my trap, admit it, i have you wrapped around my finger". it's a man who's been hurt, who wants to hear she accepts him fully. fiend and all.
and so the kindled is full of passion and that unfiltered fun, them letting go and being playful, teasing. their love and sex are never suffocating, heavy, never dominating in that violent way that takes away the agency, that feels unsafe. this is their safety - the challenge, the betting, their competitiveness. that's their choice.
and all of that is filled with love. the hugs, the jokes, they way sylus takes MC's face in his hand and turns it to the side so he can smother more of her face/neck in kisses. and the way he calls her cute while giving her the good stuff 🙂↕️
also worth mentioning: MC calling sylus her creditor, her debt collector. sure, the debt is the bet she lost that makes her not use her hunter watch when she's with him. but i think the name is fitting, considering how she cursed him, making them soulmates. they are two parts of a whole, taking and giving each other. both a creditor and a debtor of the other one. mutual obligation, if you will.
studying obligations right now couldnt help myself
synopsis: streamer!choso has a pervy crush on his dorm neighbor: the schools sweetheart!reader
__
summer felt wrong without you.
he tried to ignore the silence of being in his room instead of the dormitories--really, he did. he did so much as to fill his schedule with games, streams, scrolling through reels, anything to keep his mind from wandering where he know it shouldn't but damnit, he missed his next-door neighbor dearly
it wasn’t like the two of you were friends—no he didn’t miss you like that, he missed seeing you in that skimpy little school uniform just a few rows ahead of him, flashing that beautiful smile of yours as you laughed with shoko when you got confused, your skirt riding up those pretty soft thighs when you shifted in your seat, the shimmery pink of your lips and god how pretty you looked when you applied your gloss.
and he knew you were out of his league by miles and miles so he shouldn't bother noticing things like that
but what he missed most wasn't even class
it was living next to you in the dorms
seeing you rush into the hallway to grab some water in nothing but your short little sleep shorts and a white tank top that showed your pretty perked nipples through it—god he hated himself for it, he really did! he didn’t ever want to make you uncomfortable because he really did care for you!
and he hated this part of himself
you trusted the space you were in, comfortable and safe
and here he was, memorizing, watching, listening to things he had no right to.
he'd run his hand down his face trying to force his mind to anywhere but you but--it never really stuck
he doesn’t know when it started, whether it was when you first talked to him in class with the same warm smile you wore for everyone else—or if it was that night
the one he should've forgotten about but god it was all he could think about
he had been up late cramming for a physics project, papers scattered everywhere the only sounds that late usually were his notebook pages flipping and the occasional frustrated groan until he heard it--
soft broken breaths muffled through the wall
he told himself he was hearing things until it got louder, needier
"...shit," he breathed out staring at the wall--your shared wall
he should've put headphones on, went to bed, anything! but instead he crawled into his bed with his ear against the wall you two shared--his heart pounding with every small sound that so barely slipped through
god, he imagined what you looked like trying to chase that high all by yourself when he knows he could make you feel so good
how pretty you probably looked with your desperate fingers fucking in and out of you, your other hand probably squeezing your tits, pinching at your sensitive peaks desperately, chasing a wave of pleasure he knows he could so easily give you
he pictured you with your lacy bra just barely pulled to the side with pathetic tears streaming down your face, riding into your own hand with your thong just pushed to the side
fuck.
he shouldn't be thinking about you like this
you--who smiled at him in class, treated him like everyone else, who made him feel seen, who had no idea what was running through his head right now
a desperate whine came from your side and his room suddenly felt too small, too hot
"m'sorry" he said breathlessly into the air as he tugged his boxers down, almost tripping over himself as he eagerly ran to his bed, laying with his ear practically glued to the wall to hear as much of you as he could, wrapping around himself slowly
another muffled whine came from your room and he couldn’t hold back anymore
his head tipped back against his pillow while his hand fisted around his straining cock, pumping himself teasingly, rubbing his puffed tip smearing pre all over his pretty pink tip, already dripping all over his abdomen
“ahh-ahh fuck—m'sorry y/n--m'sorry!”
tears streaming down his face as he pushed himself through it, listening to your voice through the walls--he looked a pathetic beautiful mess
“f-fuck pl-pleasee—” he whined into his quiet room, a choked cry following. his brain felt like it was short-circuiting and the only image it could think of is the one he was hoping to one day be on top of one day
and that was the night it started
the night he stopped trying to pretend he didn't need you
--
now he may have felt like a pervert, but you weren’t much better over the summer
the day you found his livestream you clicked on it immediately without thinking, sure you'd seen him in class with those sexy nerdy fucking glasses, and the way his plaid pants hung a little too low when he lounged around the common room
you wanted to get to know him, he was your neighbor after all, so you figured maybe this way you could get to know some of his interests, or more of who he really was, not that quiet boy in the back of class who had a clear strain in his pants every time you even looked his way, not that you minded, you found it adorable
so you spent the summer watching his streams and everyday you watched you felt yourself wanting to know him more, to talk to him, to have him. so when school rolled back around you wasted no time, he would be yours in at least some way this year, because god knows you were tired of watching girls thirst over him in his comments, and of trying to reach your peak with your pathetic toy: he'd do much better
you hadn't meant for it to get this bad--but you weren't really complaining
what started as pure curiosity at the beginning of summer turned into something you couldn't stop--an addiction
because choso was nothing like what you expected
sure you knew he was quieter, yeah and a little awkward at times, but there was something else too. the way he focused and furrowed his brows with that stupid eyebrow piercing he gave himself, how he mumbled to himself as he played talking the viewers through his gameplay--and god was it attractive
you told yourself it was harmless at first--background noise while you kept yourself busy to get to make a new friend! but instead it felt like you were watching him.
you started paying attention to the little things
the way his glasses slipped down his nose when he leaned in to focus, the way his voice dipped slightly when he got tired, and how his shirt rode up just enough when he stretched to cover what you wanted to see most
and you realized it had become a problem when you noticed the comments
something you didn't expect to bother you
it wasn't like you knew him or had any right to be jealous, but you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the comments pointing out things you had already noticed
"he's so cute"
"is he single???"
"say my name on streammm"
all of them fucking annoying--they didn't know him like you did
even if your definition of knowing him wass just watching him on stream night after night, or talking to him briefly in class, or seeing him walk into his dorm late at night
it still felt like something to you
so by the time summer ended you weren't just curious anymore
you were set on it.
on him.
--
"hey!!" shoko chased after you in the dorms "you ready for tonight? welcome back party at toru's place!" she wrapped her arms around you excitedly, but your arms were wandering, hoping the room arrangements would be the same as last year
"helllooo y/n c'mon what's up" she snapped in your face playfully with a laugh "seriously, you good? you seem like, dazed--are you high?" she whispered
"no-no no no sho! sorry i'm just trying to see the room arrangements but yes, party tonight got it!"
suguru was waiting across the hall with a cigarette resting between his lips glancing at shoko
"now i thinkkk you have someone waiting for you, maybe those frat hookups weren't nothing" you teased shoko and nudged her lightly with a laugh as she rolled her eyes and left you for suguru, which was perfectly fine with you because you had a gameplan for your first week: get to know choso!
now his gameplan was a littlee different, he had spent the last week of summer researching the best ways to please you, emotionally and physically, so he didn't disappoint you when he finally had the chance.
he paced around the dorms hoping they'd still be the same just to see you lounging around in the common room, in those baggy jeans that hugged your hips just right and that tight tank top that showed you off, fuck you were beautiful--and he couldn't take it! he rushed into his dorm room and slammed his door before you could've noticed the pink of his cheeks or the bulge in his pants, and that's when he heard a faint knock
"choso?" you called out softly from the other side of the door
fuck.
so sorry for the long hiatus i was in such a writing slump and got so caught up with life, this is my first time doing anything 18+ so pleaseee be easy on me LOL but leave tips if you have any MWAH <3
⌗ 𝓼atoru gojo coos you over the edge ! (˶˃𐃷˂˶) based off this (not a p!link), unprotected p in v, whipped!gojo, praise, pet names (baby/babygirl, sweetheart, angel)
the sounds in the once quiet room are obscene— breathy moans, loud squelching with each precise thrust of gojo's hips, and the bed frame thunking against the wall.
he's so deep inside you, you feel him in your throat. all you can do is claw at his broad back desperately, leaving angry red marks in your wake. "toru– ohfuck--!" you're struggling to catch your breath, "s'too much!" his pace is unrelenting, so the least he can do is talk you through it.
"m'sorry, babygirl, i know" his breath fans over your skin as he coos at you so sweetly, a direct opposite to the way he's fucking into you. "s'big, huh?" he's practically cradling you, holding you so close to his chest that you feel his heart beating a frantic rhythm against yours.
he pulls your face from hiding in the crook of his neck all to press gentle, reverent kisses over your flushed skin. "my precious girl," he praises, "doin' so good for me, my perfect baby" he moans softly when he feels your pussy flutter around him at his sweet words.
"there you go, you like that?" his voice isn't teasing in the slightest, all genuine loving words, all reserved for you.
that familiar heat is growing low in your belly, his cock hitting your g-spot only intensifying the pressure. "m'close– g'na make me cum--" you manage to breathe out some resemblance of a sentence, through his overwhelming affection and each word coming out as a moan, talking proves to be a bit difficult.
"yeah?" his voice is low and smooth, "y'can't help it, i know sweetheart," he rubs your arm tenderly, "gonna help you, okay? can i do that baby?" you can tell just how enamored he is by you, speaking to you and loving on you like you're the only person in the world, gazing at you like you hung the stars just for him.
you nod dumbly, not caring to ask what he means with how fucked-out you are, brain a pile of mush. before you can compute, he snakes his hand down between the two of you and finds your puffy folds, spreading them. you gasp, hands squeezing at his biceps. "s'okay" he reassures you, thumb finding your sensitive clit and rubbing tight circles on the bud.
it's enough to make you cry out in pleasure, enough to make you gush around his cock. gojo groans at the feeling, watching your expression in pure awe. "i know, baby" his pace never falters, so close to the edge himself. "there you go, let it all out–" his balls tighten up as he hits his peak, still holding you close, wanting there to be no space between the two of you. he fucks into you a few last times while spilling his warm release deep inside of you, a heady feeling.
he nearly pants, not bothering to pull out when he flops down beside you and pulls you to lay on his chest. you're worn out, and thoroughly satisfied. "did so good, sweet girl" he's smiling, cooing at you and scratching your back soothingly. you simply hum in response, words failing you.
he lets out a chuckle, "my sleepy angel..." his cheesy words could make you laugh if you weren't so spent, so you settle on curling into the comfort of him further, letting him pamper you with his voice.
as you both doze off, you swear you can hear him whisper a little "love you", and you know he means it. because you're all his, and he's all yours.
Dude…I genuinely have no inclination toward daddy shit like I could actually care less bUT writing the Sylus slut blurb I’m like UGH he’s so fucking daddy coded how aRE YOU NOT SUPPOSED TO SAY THANK YOU DADDY TO HIM AFTER SUCKING ON HIS FINGERS LIKE??? I’m also having cutesy Caleb married headcanons that turn hORNy and yo going from Gege to Daddy would make him explode I think.
ANYWAY so…new format??? When I’m too lazy to make it drabble coded &/or turn it into a full blurb, lol. I’m gonna call them snippets for now??? Enjoy, MWAH! (Ignore me writing anything other than what I should actually be working on rn...heh...)
- Blueberry જ⁀➴ ৻ꪆ (Masterlist)
Teasing Sylus with your responses as you had been all day, “Yes, daddy.”
“Would you—” he narrows his eyes at you, chuckling to himself, “cut it out, kitten. I’m serious.”
You grin at him, “Okay, daddy, whatever you say.”
“You’re insufferable. I am not that much older than you, you realize that, right?”
“Sure, but—many other elements fit the bill, is all I’m saying.”
He cocks his head to the side, “Is that right? Like what, kitten?”
You tap your chin with your index finger mockingly before speaking, “Demeanor, hair color, incredibly wealthy, a little—very—bossy…you know, the list goes on and on, honestly.” He simply smirks at you, stepping a bit closer to you. “You literally call me kitten!”
***
“Open your mouth, kitten.” Whining, his index and middle finger slip between your lips and press flat against your tongue—pushing just a tad bit too far toward your throat.
“Ngh—” Refraining from a gag, your eyes start to water—but...that doesn’t stop you from wrapping your lips around his fingers and sucking.
When he pulls his fingers out, his voice is firm, “Say thank you.” Before you can speak, with a sudden snap from his hips forward, a gasp rips straight from your throat as he’s back to being completely buried inside you.
“Mm—nngh! T-thank you, daddy.”
Gripping your jaw, his lips hover directly above yours while he fights back a grin, “You’re very welcome, kitten...”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · · · · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
On your tippy toes in the kitchen trying to put away some dishware on the very top shelf, “Daddy, will you help me put this away? I can’t reach.” As soon as the word “daddy” leaves your lips, Caleb’s eyes immediately turn toward you. Despite hearing it many times already, it was typically in a coo to your children about him and in front of him—not to him directly.
The way your hips pressed against the counter and the arches of your feet wiggled…tiny breaths spilling out as you struggled made the word seem…much different—to say the least.
Affectionately speaking to, about, and near each other as parents using Mom, Dad, Mama, Dada, Mommy, and Daddy had all become second nature quite truthfully. An overwhelming majority of the time, any of these terms sent a warm, cozy feeling through each of you.
This time, it definitely sent a feeling. It was warm, perhaps, but it definitely wasn’t “cozy.”
You gasp and teeter on the balls of your feet when his left arm suddenly coils around your waist, his chest pressing into your back. You didn’t even hear him coming. His hand flattens over your ribs, his fingertips pushing into your skin over the material of your top.
His hips push forward, keeping you against the counter and on your tippy toes. “Ngh—h-hey…”
“Mmm…” His face nuzzles into your neck, pressing a light kiss against your skin, “Daddy, hm?”
Caught in his grasp, “H-huh? I call you daddy all the time, don’t I?”
“…Not like that.” Without proper warning, his hand shifts off your ribs to grope your left breast, his mouth hot on your neck.
You do well to keep your voice down, “H-hey—! Ngh—the k-kids—”
He mumbles into your neck, squeezing you, “Living…room—mm—”
His other hand comes around and grabs your right breast, pulling you with both of his hands further back against his chest. “Nngh—y-you—” you laugh quietly, “liked it, did you?”
His hips grind forward into your ass, “Mhm…” His teeth then sink into your neck, a subtle groan breaking against your skin, “Mmhm…”
“I can se—feel, that…daddy.”
“Hngh—stop it.”
You laugh, leaning your head back to rest in the crook of his neck and shoulder, “Stop it? You came over here, da—”
Silenced mid-sentence, you gasp when his fingers pinch your nipples through the fabric of your shirt and thin bra, “Mmm…” His lips brush the shell of your ear, whispering, “If you don’t quit it...daddy’s gonna have to fuck you...”
“Ngh—well, maybe I’d like that.”
He chuckles lightly, “Mm, I’m sure you would.” Letting your chest go, his hands find the hem of your top and slip underneath, putting his hands right back on you. He groans into your neck, offering another quick bite before his mouth finds your ear, whispering, “I bet you want daddy to cum in your cute lit—”
Suddenly, a quiet voice echoing from the living room gets louder, and you both realize the voice’s arrival is imminent. You’ve never let go of one another faster than right then. Turning on his heel, Caleb practically darts out of the kitchen and down the hall, but not without giving you a glance over his shoulder first.
***
Later on, in the midst of getting ready to settle in for the night, Caleb’s sitting shirtless at the end of the bed. After coming out from the bathroom and spotting him, you instantly crawl up on the bed, sitting behind him up on your knees and draping your arms over his neck and shoulders. You lean over his left shoulder and press a gentle kiss against his cheek, “That really messed you up, huh?”
He stammers, “N-no, shush!”
You lean back again, “Mmm—” letting your hands smooth out over his chest, “you’re just the best daddy, hm?” He twitches in place and you bring your lips to his neck, “Take such good care of me…” He groans when you squeeze his muscles, pushing your nails into his skin, “My strong, loyal husband, hm?” You sprinkle light kisses on his neck, “Little weak in the knees from getting called daddy, aren’t you?”
He lets out a quiet whimper before speaking, “Quit i-it.”
You bring your lips to the edge of his ear, whispering, “What were you saying earlier? Oh, that’s right. Something about how I want daddy to cum inside m—”
Interrupting you, his voice hoarse, “Alright, that’s it.” In the quick, fluid motion of him standing up, you’re landing back on the bed, scrambling to scoot back while giggling. Leaning down, his hand firmly catches your ankle, “Ah, ah. I don’t think so.”
OKAY SO...slut series is absolutely a thing now. I’m so serious she has a place on the masterlist, LMAO. I answered that ask (LOVE YOU ANON) with some unhinged ass bs but wHEN I STARTED WRITING, that was not the case. NO SLAPPING (maybe another time teehee). But oh, he calls you a slut alright, but he’s POOKIE ABT IT YOU’LL SEE. Valko’s was unhinged lowkey this is giving sweetie pie still idk. Enjoy, MWAH!
- Blueberry જ⁀➴ ৻ꪆ (Masterlist)
You wiggle and squirm behind Sylus in the kitchen, occasionally pressing your face into his back, “…Yes, kitten?”
“Mm— I— Hmm…” As you stammer, he slowly turns around to face you.
He smirks, “Princess, just tell me.” He lifts his hand to rub his thumb over your chin, “You’ve been antsy all night.”
“Mmm—would you…”
Using his free hand, he pulls you in by your waist, raising a subtle brow at you, “Would I…what, hm?” He was always one to wait for you to express your desires yourself—even if he could see them burning your skin from the inside out.
You settle into the feeling of his hand on your lower back, pressing both of your hands against his chest, “Ever…”
He lets out a small huffed laugh, repeating your words, “Would I ever…?”
“…Call me a slut?”
His brows raise, but his held mirthful expression stays the same. Letting go of your chin, he pulls you completely against his torso using both of his hands, “A slut, hm? Is that right?” The way he says the word already makes your cunt throb.
You snake your arms over his shoulders, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, “Mmhm…”
The corner of his lips curl into a small smile, “And why, kitten, do you want me to call you that?” His wide palms flatten against your back, slowly running down until he’s gripping your hips, his small grin growing into another smirk. Interesting, he thought.
A blush rises on your cheeks, “I— Mmm— ...I thought it might be…fun.”
He squeezes your hips, tight. “Fun?” He questions, cocking a brow at you.
“Mhm—” just from staring up into his piercing eyes, carrying a visibly amused sense of intrigue, you let a little moan slip, “ngh—y-yeah, fun.”
He leans down and in while holding your eye contact, his lips getting closer to yours, “Why don’t you…tell me a little more about this fun before we indulge, hm?”
***
“You’ll be a good slut for me, won’t you, kitten?” You whine—trapped. “Let me tease you with my cock, hm?”
Using his Evol, your wrists are affixed to his headboard, your arms up yet slumped with your elbows bent. Both completely bare, Sylus sits with his legs folded at his knees, your ass practically in his lap toward the lower end of his thighs, your legs stretched out and past his hips.
“Y-yes—I will—nngh—” You tremble with anticipation and squirm, stuck in place and completely exposed to him, an arch in your back that continually struggles and relaxes repeatedly as a result of having your arms above your head and your lower half elevated in his lap.
He releases a throaty hum, letting his hard cock press against your slit, slowly lifting with the power of his quads until his cock can rest from the top of your pubic bone and reach your belly, “Good girl. So pretty for me...”
You glance down at the sight of him against your body, whining and wiggling your hips, “Mmhm—Sy—p-please—I w-want it.”
“Oh, I know you do, princess. Begging me to call you a slut and fill you up with my cock…”
You nod weakly within the limit you’re able considering the position you’re in, the feeling of your mouth watering making you pant and stammer, “Uh-h-huh—p-please—”
He lets his legs and hips relax again, pulling further back and away from you, “Shh—quiet.” Pressing his right hand down against your thigh, he uses his left to drag the head of his cock between your slick slit.
“Mmm—oh m-my—”
“Such a naughty slut, huh, kitten?” Intentionally, he slowly rubs his tip against your clit, eliciting a whiny moan from you. “Just a word has you nice and soaked for me, hm?”
“Ngh! Sy—p-please—put i-it in—”
He shakes his head, “Mm-mm, I don’t think so, kitten.” He lets the head of his cock gently press into your entrance before pulling back and running himself back up to your clit, “Too pretty, I don’t want to ruin you just yet...”
When your hips try and snap in his lap, his hand presses down harder against your thigh, using his other to continue torturing you with his cock. “Mmm—m-mean—ngh—y-you’re s’mean.”
He tsks, a smirk on his lips, “I’m mean, kitten? I’m just doing what you asked.” You moan to the feeling of him applying more pressure, his tip gliding further upward until the underside of his length can run between your slit, the sight of your skin spreading for him making him groan.
Eventually, only after continued and incessant begging from you, he’s pushing the head of his cock into your soaked cunt, groaning and watching the slow stretch of your skin around him. However, he stops halfway, not giving you all of what you want. “Mmm—ngh—so gorgeous. Taking me so well...” He looks back to you, admiring your needy expression, “So cute, I can feel you twitching, kitten.”
Your hips shake but it makes no difference, both of his hands now gripping them firmly, holding you in place with nowhere to go, “O-oh my god—Sy, p-please fuck m-me—ngh!”
“Mmm, but you feel so good like this, warming my cock for me like a good little slut.” He squeezes your hips tighter, drawing you further toward him while pushing just a bit more of his cock into your dripping cunt, “It’s what you’re made for, isn’t that right, kitten?”
You whimper, “Y-yes—mmhm—s’big, y-you’re—mm!”
His voice becomes a warm coo, “Awh, is it too big, kitten? Hm, look at that.” His right hand leaves your hip, running his palm over your stomach and down to just above your pubic bone where there’s a small bulge raising your skin.
When he presses down on the space lightly, you moan loudly, feeling an intense pressure against your G-spot. “I thought sluts liked cock that’s too big for them, no?”
You gasp, your eyes locked on his hand pressing into you, “M-mmhm—ngh—h-holy fuck—”
His left hand then also leaves your other hip, both of his hands sliding up your stomach and over your ribs until he’s squeezing your breasts. In doing so, he leans forward, his hips tilting and pushing until his cock is full up inside you. “Mmm—nngh!”
Groping you, still sat up mostly but bent forward with a necessary tilt in his hips as to not hurt either of you, “See, kitten? Perfect fit.”
“S-Sylus—ngh!” His index fingers and thumbs gently pinch your nipples, “S’deep—t-this angle, it’s—”
He interrupts you with a chuckle, “Oh, but it feels good, doesn’t it? Your slutty little pussy is soaked, gripping me nice and tight—pulling me in.”
You nod pathetically, “Ngh! Mmhm—”
“That’s what I thought. Mmph...” he gropes at your breasts again, squeezing hard, “You take me so well, kitten. Stretched around my cock…your cute little whining face—mmm...”
You gasp at the pressure from both his hands and his cock, “P-please—d-don’t you w-wanna cum inside m-me?”
He squeezes your breasts once more before sliding his hands back down to your hips, “You would try and goad me to fill you with my cum. You’re too easy to tease, kitten.” He tsks, “Be a good slut for me, yeah? I’ll give you what you want when I’m ready.”
Any buck of your hips is now stopped by his hands, “Mmhm—nngh—s-shit— I-I—”
He interrupts again, thoroughly amused, “You asked for this. To be treated like a little slut. Did you not expect that I’d have my fun, hm?” He sits back up completely, his cock retracting partially out from you and the bulge from the head of his cock becoming visible once more against your low stomach.
“P-please—please, I-I’ll be good—I swear—” his hips tilt suddenly, his cock pressing against the inner surface of your walls even more, “nngh!”
“You already are, kitten. You take my cock like such a pretty girl, I’m proud of you. Come on, you can handle a little more, can’t you?”
A broken gasp mixed with a moan escapes from your lips, “Oh—m-my—fuck—ngh!”
His left thumb comes up to caress your clit and you instantly let out a sharp whine, “Ngh—that’s it, kitten. Keep squeezing me like a needy little slut, yeah?” When your arms struggle as you continue to whine, he grins, “Stuck on my cock, what else do you have to do anyway, hm?”
“N-nothing—nngh!”
His right hand massages your hip, his fingers sinking into your skin, “That’s right. Now, be a good slut for me and cum on my cock why don’t you?”
As he continues to massage your clit with his thumb, you’re left with nothing but breathy, whiny moans, your walls repeatedly clenching around his thick cock, “Mmhm…ngh—you feel so good, kitten.” Inhaling deeply as to temper himself and the feeling you provide, he still continues, slowing the circular drag of his thumb, “Good girl, almost there, I can feel it—feels s’good, hm?”
“Y-yes—yes! Oh m-my god—S-Sy!”
He watches your body struggle, failing to contain his enjoyment, “Yes, princess?”
“Please, p-please, I n-need you to f-fuck me—p-please—ngh!”
He tsks, biting back a groan, “Almost, kitten. You’re almost there. You’re being so good for me.”
When your cunt unmistakably pulses against his cock as you let moan after moan rip from your throat while you cum, he groans deeply, reaching up again to grope your breasts and push more of his length into you. “That’s it, good girl. You squeeze me so good, princess.”
Releasing your breasts from his hands, he lets his arms come down beside you while he fully presses up with his quads, leaning his weight into you as your thighs press back against your body. Feeling him twitch inside you, “Are you gonna take my cum like a good slut, kitten?”
“Yes—y-yes! Fuck—mmm, m-my god!”
Your eyes snap shut and you nearly shriek when he starts to properly thrust into you. His voice is hoarse from having waited long enough, “Look at me.” With endless moans rattling out from your chest, your eyes flutter back open, “Good girl…nice and drunk on my cock, hm? Such a slut for it, aren’t you?”
“Y-yes, nngh! P-please, fill m-me—I need i-it—mmm!”
“I know you do, kitten. Ngh—one more time, be a good little slut and beg me for it, hm?” Finally, he releases your arms from the power of his Evol so that you can properly cling to him, beg, and wait for him to give you all of his cum.
mma!kuna blessing your pussy before a big match. (based on this ask!)
CW: nsfw
Art: @/sxt4n
a/n: yo guys i wrote this while drunk in some rando's bathtub so if this is bootycheeks im soz✌️im too tipsy to edit ts. #much luv tho <3 and ty for waiting patiently
The locker room was a bit dim, the overhead fluorescent lights turned down to a low, quiet hum that cast long shadows across the concrete floor. It was the championship finals—the culmination of months of blood, sweat and tears paired with relentless training—and the distant, muffled roar of twenty thousand fans vibrating through the walls was a constant reminder of the stakes.
But inside the private room, the world was completely still.
When the door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the noise, Sukuna was sitting alone on the low bench. His fight shorts hung low at his hips, exposing the sharp v-line of his torso, and his broad chest was already slick with a sheen of pre-fight sweat. In the dim atmosphere, the black tattoos covering his wide shoulders and ribs flexed with every deep, slow exhale he took. The fighter looked up, dark eyes locking onto yours, his messy salmon-pink hair damp against his forehead.
You didn't say a word, just stepped up to him with a fresh roll of thick white cotton gauze in your hands. The moment you slotted yourself perfectly between his thick thighs and sank into his lap, those muscular arms instantly wrapped around you. One heavy forearm locked across the small of your back—trapping you securely against him. The scent of your perfume immediately cut through the sharp, medicinal tang of liniment and deodorant filling the space between you.
The silence held fast—broken only by the slight rustle of fabric. You grabbed Sukuna’s big, scarred hand and grazed his blistered knuckles. Slowly, you pulled the white cloth taut over his calloused skin, smoothing it down.
As you focused on the final turns, Sukuna leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck. The heat radiating off his body was scorching, his damp, pink hair scratching lightly against your skin as he pressed a slow row of warm kisses against your throat. “You done?” he asked quietly against your skin, flexing his fingers beneath the fresh gauze—testing your work.
You giggled as the short strands and his warm lips tickled your skin. You pulled away just enough to look into his eyes, your thumb lingering over the finished wrap. “Keep your hands steady,” you whispered, smoothing out the white gauze.
“Are you nervous?” you asked softly.
Of course he had to be, you thought to yourself. This was the championship finals. The highest stakes imaginable. In less than ten minutes, he was either walking out there to claim the gold belt, or he was coming back to this exact room with a bruised face, a busted lip, and the bitter taste of defeat. The pressure was enough to crush anyone.
“Nah” he said softly, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I've already won.”
A quiet laugh escaped your lips at his playful confidence, and before you could tease him back, Sukuna’s wrapped hand slid down the back of your thigh—his fingers sliding right beneath the hem of your denim skirt. With a strong grip, he lifted your leg up and guided your thighs wide, moving you so you were fully straddling his lap.
The movement instantly bunched the stiff denim fabric all the way up to your hips. Your bare thighs and the plump, soft flesh of your ass were left entirely exposed on his lap, with your simple grey cotton panties serving as the only barrier between you.
Sukuna didn't give you a chance to speak, his other hand instantly coming up to cup the back of your neck, fingers tangling into your hair as he pulled you down into a deep kiss. His mouth parted yours easily, his tongue sliding inside with a hungry rhythm that tasted faintly of copper and mint.
A soft gasp escaped your throat—completely swallowed by his lips as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling yourself against his chest.
Unable to help yourself, you shifted your weight—your hips instinctively rolling forward. You grind your clothed cunt right against him, the grey cotton of your underwear rubbing directly over his aching cock.
Sukuna let out a low and rough breath into the kiss, his hand sliding up from your thigh to slide over your bare, exposed cheek. His rough fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass, squeezing it with a grip that anchored your hips right against his. His other hand trailed down to grip your hip—rocking you back and forth.
The fabric of his fight shorts offered no cushioning, letting you feel every rigid inch of his heavy length straining hard beneath the flat velcro waistband. He continued to rock you, pulling you harder against him with every roll of your hips. You whined into his mouth, your hips rolling desperately against his hard bulge until your core throbbed.
Sukuna broke the kiss just enough to breathe, his lips dragging across your cheek to your ear, his chest heaving against yours. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, a rough breathless laugh catching in his throat as your desperate grinds threatened to break his control before the bell even rang.
He stood up with you trapped against his chest. And in two heavy strides, Sukuna laid you onto the high training table. The short denim skirt rode all the way up your hips, with the cold wood biting into the bare skin of your lower back and thighs.
His hands gripped your knees and guided them back, flexing your legs wide as he stepped deeply in between them. Sukuna pressed his hard bulge against your clothed cunt—letting you feel exactly how thick and hard he was for you under his gear.
Slowly, his large hand slid down between your thighs, his palm flattening over the front of your plain, soft grey panties. He didn't pull them down yet. Instead, his fingers began to trace the shape of your damp folds through the fabric, outlining the plump, aching shape. Pressing his thumb hard against your clit, circling it—making a pathetic whimper catch in your throat.
As his fingers worked over the damp grey fabric, Sukuna leaned his weight forward, slowly driving his thick bulge straight into your clothed heat. The sleek material of his fight shorts slid against your soaked panties, pinning you firmly to the wood with every slow hitch of his pelvis.
Your excitement had completely soaked through the material—the grey cotton was almost translucent, darkening from the moisture and sticking directly to your sensitive, swollen folds. Every time he shifted his weight or rubbed his thumb over you, the damp cloth dragged intimately against your clit.
Sukuna leaned down, his eyes locked on yours, watching your expression fracture. “Look at you” he said with a smirk, as his thumb took one more slow dragging stroke along the damp seam before he finally hooked two fingers into the waistband of your underwear. He slid the wet grey fabric down your legs with an impatient pull—letting it drop to the floor.
Sukuna dropped to his knees, broad shoulders wedging your thighs even wider, pinning your legs back until you were completely spread out for him.
“So fucking wet already. The only lucky charm I need.” He let his breath coat your swollen, slick folds, watching the way you shuddered just from the heat of him. Your core was oozing onto the wooden table, the wet skin glistening under the lights, and a low satisfied breath escaped his chest at the sight. And when his tongue finally made contact, he slid it from the very bottom of your opening all the way up through your slick folds to your throbbing clit in one slow, deep lick.
A sharp gasp caught your throat, your teeth immediately sinking into your lower lip as your hips twitched against the hard table.
“Stay still for me,” he mumbled against your heat, lips flattening against your clit, sucking the sensitive bud entirely into his mouth. Sukuna rested his heavy forearms over your thighs as he lapped your throbbing cunt heavily, his tongue working in aggressive upward swipes through your slick folds, that mirrored the pace of a hard, dirty fuck.
He dragged it out—taking his time to torment you, his tongue flattening to lap broad strokes from your opening to your clit, before narrowing to swirl his wet tongue on the sensitive bud until you were whining, the sound echoing in the concrete room.
Suddenly, rushed footsteps and raised voices echoed right outside the door—the loud, frantic calls of his manager and officials checking the halls. Panicking at the noise, you instantly clamped a hand over your mouth, stifling a loud cry as his tongue swirled over your clit.
Sukuna paused for a second, looking up from between your thighs with amused eyes. He gripped your wrist, firmly pulling your hand away from your face and pinning it down against the table.
“Tryna be quiet?” he murmured.
A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as the voices faded down the corridor. “They’ve heard you before.”
“Sukuna, please, someone's gonna—” you gasped out, your words dissolving into a broken moan as his tongue slammed right back into your wetness.
“Mm…yeah, you like that?” Sukuna hummed with a grin.
Your eyes fluttered back, vision blurring as you looked at the dim ceiling “M-mhm…I do…please…” Fingers instantly tangling into his damp salmon-pink hair, gripping the short strands tightly as you tried to pull him even closer against you. “F-fuck…” you gasped out as your back slightly arched off the wood, your lip digging into your teeth again trying and failing to stifle the ragged whimpers escaping you.
The booming chant of the crowd outside blended with the wet, squelching sounds of his mouth devouring you. You could smell his deodorant, his sweat sticking onto your skin, feel the scratch of his short pink hair against your lower stomach, and the burning touch of his wrapped fingers spreading your wet folds wide so he could dig his tongue even deeper into your pulsing core.
Then, he pushed two thick, gauze-wrapped fingers inside of your cunt.
The rough texture of the tape dragged against your sensitive walls—the friction so sharp it made you sob, your walls clamping tightly around the texture. Sukuna let out a low grunt, immediately taking advantage of how your tightness was sucking his fingers in. He began to pump his fingers hard and fast, the rough gauze dragging in and out of your oozing heat, perfectly hitting your g-spot with every thrust while his tongue continued to lap and suck your clit.
A ragged chain of whines and moans slipped out of your lips while your hands desperately tightened their grip on his hair. The contrast of his rough tape inside your cunt and the soaking wet heat from his mouth against your folds was driving you over the edge. You could feel yourself building, the pressure pooling heavily in your lower stomach until you were trembling from head to toe.
“Sukuna—please, I’m gonna—”
“Give it to me” he murmured against your core. “Right here. Let me taste it.”
He accelerated the pace, his fingers shoving deep and fast, your internal walls contracting violently around the tough gauze. The intense friction snapped the last of your control and your orgasm hit like a physical blow, your back arching off the cold table as your eyes fluttered shut. Your internal muscles were completely squeezing and spasming around Sukuna’s wrapped fingers.
And finally your wave of release flooded out, soaking his hands and spilling directly onto his fingers, the gauze soaking it in as you whimpered, your toes curling slightly and thighs trembling against his broad shoulders as you came hard against his knuckles.
Sukuna didn't back off—he stayed put there, drinking you down greedily, swallowing every drop of your release while his fingers continued to slowly pump inside your wet folds, wringing out every last, fading spasm of your climax, letting his knuckles coat themselves completely in your wetness. He didn't stop until your frantic breathing finally began to slow to a ragged wheeze, his tongue giving one you one final, heavy swipe over your throbbing core.
When Sukuna finally pulled away, a thick, silver string of saliva connected his lips to your wet skin. He stood up, towering over you with his face completely flushed, his lips glistening and wet with you. He used the back of his wrapped wrist to swipe the wetness from his chin—flashing a satisfied look at the mess he made out of you.
Sukuna grabbed his mouthguard off the counter, shoving it into his jaw, and adjusted the waistband of his fight shorts over his aching length.
He gave your warm inner thigh one last reassuring squeeze, smoothing the edge of your denim skirt back down over your legs.
“Shouldn't take long.”
He flashed you the faintest smirk as he rolled his muscular shoulders, prepping himself. “First round.”
fem!toji fushiguro x reader
you never cared about your bum ass roommate and his terrible flirting except when he comes back one day looking like the most beautiful woman you've ever seen ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ
cw: mdni, oral sex, fingering, scissoring, big clit!toji
You slammed the apartment door a little harder than necessary after another long day, tossing your keys onto the rickety table by the entrance. Toji was already sprawled on the couch like he owned the place, which, technically, he did half of. His stupidly ripped arms were stretched out along the back cushions and he smiled wide the second he spotted you.
"Hey, roomieee. Miss me?" he drawled.
You rolled your eyes. "No. Did you even bother with the dishes like I asked?"
He chuckled. "Nah. Figured you'd come home and handle it. Either, I'm leaving now for a job." He got up from the couch, leaving his beer in the table, on his way of taking his jacket
"I didn't ask." That made him laugh again.
God, he was the worst. Toji had been your roommate for months now, and every single day was the same routine. Flirty comments, lingering stares, brushing past you in the kitchen way too close. You hated how full of himself he is. Of course he's way too hot for his own good, but you can't find him attractive at all. So ignoring him was your best defense.
You headed straight to your room without another word, shutting the door firmly behind you. Peace, finally.
That peace lasted until around midnight.
A loud thud from the living room jerked you awake. You sat up in bed, heart pounding and grabbed the nearest thing that could pass as a weapon, which happened to be your heavy lamp. Creeping out, you flicked on the light and froze.
There, standing in the middle of the room, was… a woman. Tall, insanely strong-looking, with the same sharp green eyes and messy dark hair, but everything else was different. Curves that filled out what used to be Toji's shirt in ways that made your brain short-circuit. Broad shoulders still, powerful arms, but softer features, full lips and a figure that screamed dangerous beauty. She looked like Toji if someone had remade him into the most stunning woman you'd ever seen.
"What the actual hell?" you whispered.
The woman rubbed the back of her neck, looking equal parts pissed and sheepish. Her voice was still deep but smoother, with a feminine lilt that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.
"Don't laugh now, I'm the one freaking out."
"Toji, do you do drag? Is that why you work at night?" you teased him, knowing damn well that's not what he did, but the look on his face was enough for your entertainment.
"No, I don't!" he said, rolling his eyes. "Even if I did, I wouldn't appear in the living room in full drag, you dumbass."
You lowered the lamp slowly, stepping closer without thinking. Toji… she… whatever, looked even more striking up close. The way the shirt clung to her chest, you wonder how her boobs might look behind it, the subtle flex of muscle under smooth skin. Your usual irritation disappeared because she was too hot to be mad at her.
"So that's really you, hm..." You circled her once, eyes wide. "Holy shit. You look… I mean, damn."
She raised an eyebrow, sensing something predatory in your eyes. "You're staring. Thought you hated me."
"I do," you shot back, but your voice lacked its usual bite. You stopped right in front of her, close enough to catch the faint scent of sweat and whatever cologne he always wore. "That doesn't mean that you don't look hot as fuck.How does it feel?"
Toji let out a low laugh, crossing her arms under her chest in a way that did not help your focus. "Weird as hell. Balance is off a bit and my... pecs?"
"Breasts. Definitely breasts."
"I don't know how to feel about calling them breasts. They're heavy as fuck."
That's soooo sad. You felt heat creep up your neck, but instead of backing off like usual, you reached out and lightly touched her arm. The muscle was rock hard under your fingers. "Were you always this jacked?"
You look up at her, battling your eyelashes as you hand was fully palming her bicep, pressing it down with your fingers.
"Yes! I've been working out, you know that!" she exclaims, still not understand why you are suddenly so interested in her.
"Hm..." you nod slowly, now wrapping your hand against her wrist. "Let's sit down."
You pull her down on the couch, your thighs pressing together as you keep palming her arm because you cannot stop yourself from touching her. You're waiting for the perfect opportunity to just jump on her and eat her alive.
"How long are you stay like this?" you ask, praying it's forever.
"A few days. A week at most," she tells you, crossing her legs and turning her body so she's fully facing you. Her legs are covered by her sweatpants but you bet she also has the juiciest and strongest thighs ever.
"Oh..." you mumble, looking down a bit sad.
Your fingers trailed up her bicep slowly, feeling the definition there. It was fun, watching her try to keep the attitude while her eyes darkened a little.
"It doesn't hurt, right?" You tilted your head, voice dropping softer.
"No, no," Toji huffs a laugh, her full lips parting. She glances down at your hand on her arm. "You've never touched me this much."
You laugh, heat flooding your face. "Well, you've never looked this hot."
She was the one laughing now, breaking eye contact and even looking flustered. This was ridiculous and thrilling all at once. The guy you'd been dodging for months was now this gorgeous woman standing in your living room and suddenly ignoring her was the last thing on your mind.
"Aren't you curious?" you ask her, now tickling the back of her neck.
"About what?" She blinks, eyebrows furrowing just a little.
"About how some things feel. If I get turned into a man the first thing I would do is find someone to give me a blowjob."
"Oh wow, okay."
"So?" You were still expecting her answer.
You watch her face carefully, your heart hammering against your ribs, Toji shifts on the couch, powerful thighs pressing together under the soft fabric of her sweatpants. Her cheeks have this faint flush now, making her look less intimidating.
"Yeah… maybe," she mutters after a long pause, her voice lower than before. She uncrosses her legs and leans forward a bit, dark green eyes flicking over your face searching for any sign that you're joking. "Being eaten out or whatever. Scissoring, too, if that shit works."
Your pulse spikes. You don't even hesitate. "I could help you with that," you say, voice coming out breathy and eager. "If you want. I'd make it feel really good, Toji."
She stares at you for a second, lips parted. Then a challenging smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. "You serious, roomie? Alright. Show me what you got."
You stand up so fast, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward your bedroom. Her palm is a little rough, bigger than yours even now. The walk down the short hallway feels electric, every step making your skin tingle with anticipation.
"God, you're gorgeous," you whisper, fingers tracing the curve of her waist.
She lets you push her down onto the mattress, and the way her body sinks into it, all that muscle and softness, makes your mouth water. You climb over her, straddling one of her thick thighs as you lean down to kiss her neck.
Toji exhales sharply when your lips brush her collarbone. "Don't get all sappy on me," she grumbles, but her hand comes up to rest on your back anyway.
You smile against her skin and trail kisses lower, pushing up the hem of her shirt. Her tits spill out as you tug the fabric over her head, full and heavy, nipples already pebbled in the cool air.
"These are perfect," you whisper, cupping one in your hand, feeling the weight of it. You squeeze gently, then lean in to drag your tongue over the stiff peak. She tastes clean and a little salty, the soft groan she makes vibrates through her chest.
"Fuck… that feels weird," she breathes, but her back arches, pushing more of her breast into your mouth.
You suck harder, swirling your tongue around the nipple while your fingers play with the other one, pinching and rolling until she's squirming beneath you. Her thighs clench around your leg, you can feel the heat building between them even through her pants.
You spend a long time there, worshipping every inch of her chest. Licking slow circles, nipping lightly with your teeth just to hear her hiss, then soothing it with open-mouthed kisses. Her breathing gets heavier, little sounds slipping out that she tries to swallow back.
Eventually you slide lower, kissing down her stomach, feeling the faint ridges of muscle under the softer layer. You hook your fingers into her sweatpants and panties, peeling them down her strong legs. Her thighs are everything you imagined, thick and powerful, skin smooth where it counts. And between them… god. Her pussy is glistening already, lips puffy and flushed, with a big and swollen clit peeking out at the top. She's tight, you can tell just from looking, the entrance small and inviting.
"Look at you," you say softly, spreading her legs wider and settling between them. You press a kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other, breathing in her musky scent. "So wet already."
"Shut up," she mutters, but her voice cracks a bit.
You tease her first, because you can't help it. You kiss everywhere but where she wants it most, dragging your tongue along her inner thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin. Your fingers trace light circles around her clit without touching it, watching her hips twitch.
"You like that?" you ask, voice muffled against her skin.
Toji growls low. "Stop fucking teasing and do it."
You grin and finally give in, flattening your tongue and licking a long, slow stripe up her slit. She tastes tangy and addictive. Her whole body jolts. You do it again, savoring the way her juices coat your tongue, then focus on her big clit. You circle it lightly at first, teasing the sensitive bud with the tip of your tongue before flicking it gently.
"Oh shit," she gasps, thighs tensing around your head.
"Breath, pretty," you remind her.
She's so tight you can barely push a finger inside at first, her walls gripping you as you slide it in slowly. You curl it upward while your mouth works her clit, sucking softly then harder, alternating between licks and gentle nibbles.
You keep teasing her the whole time, pulling back to blow cool air on her wet folds just to watch her shiver, then diving back in with more pressure.
"You taste so good, Toji," you mumble against her. "You gonna come for me?"
She tries to stay cool, biting her lip hard, but her hips start rocking against your face. "Nngh fuck, you're… good at this," she admits, voice shaky. Her free hand tangles in your hair, not quite pushing but definitely holding you there.
You add a second finger, stretching her carefully since she's so tight, pumping them in and out while your tongue dances over her clit faster. The sounds are obscene, wet and slick, mixed with her growing moans. She tries to keep quiet at first, but soon she's whining, little desperate noises spilling out as her cool facade cracks completely.
"Right there… d-don't stop, you little shit," she pants, legs shaking. Her clit throbs under your tongue, you tickle it with rapid flicks until her back bows off the bed.
When she comes, it's loud and messy, her pussy clenching hard around your fingers as she floods your mouth. You keep licking her through it, gentler now, until she tugs you up by the hair.
"Enough… holy fuck," she gasps, chest heaving. Her face is flushed deep red, she looks wrecked already and you haven't even gotten to the scissoring yet.
You wipe your chin with the back of your hand and crawl up to kiss her, letting her taste herself on your lips. She kisses back hungrily, hands roaming your body.
"We're not done, baby," you whisper, pulling off your own clothes quickly.
You position yourselves carefully, legs tangled, pussies pressing together. The first slide of her hot, slick folds against yours makes you both moan. She's still sensitive from coming, so when you start grinding, rolling your hips so your clits catch against each other, she jerks.
"Ah… that's… nghh intense," she groans, but she grabs your thigh and pulls you closer, matching your rhythm.
The friction is perfect, wet and slippery, you can feel every little twitch of her body, the way her strong thighs flex as she rocks against you. Her clit grazes with your perfectly, your pussy lips kissing as you take control over her once again.
You reach down to hold her hip, guiding her movements. "God, Toji, you're so fucking hot like this."
Your voices mix in breathy moans and whines. She tries to keep some control, muttering curses under her breath, but soon she's a total mess. Her head falls back, full tits bouncing with each grind, nipples hard and begging for attention again.
"Shiit, ah! H-how are you soooo good at this?" she whines, voice cracking as she grinds harder, chasing the feeling.
"Don't you worry your pretty head about that, baby," you tell her, giving her left tit a rough squeeze before picking up your pace.
Her desperation makes you even wetter. You speed up, the slick sounds filling the room along with her growing whimpers. She's trembling, fingers digging into your skin as another orgasm builds fast. You lean forward, sucking on one of her tits while you keep scissoring,
Toji comes with a broken moan, body shaking hard against yours. Her pussy pulses, flooding warmth between you, the feeling drags you right over with her. You collapse together in a sweaty, sticky tangle, both breathing hard.
She stares at the ceiling for a minute, then turns to you looking a little bit shy. "That was way better than I thought it'd be. You really know what you're doing down there."
You laugh softly, tracing a finger along her arm. "Told you I'd help. How long did you say you're staying like this again?"
She smirks, pulling you closer. "Long enough for round two, probably."
THREE DAYS LATER
You were sure you fell asleep with Toji's big and beautiful breast inside your mouth after a long session of sucking them in her lap while she played with your pussy, but when you wake up, your mouth is empty. Still, you can feel her arm under your head as a pillow and the warmth of her body.
You rub your eyes, yawning and stretching as you sit up a little. When you finally get to see clearly, your face fills with horror.
Toji is back to normal.
No beautiful breasts, no gentle and soft curves, NO PUSSY. That was the best pussy you've ever tasted in years, what are you going to do without it?
"Toji!" you say, voice higher than you mean it.
He blinks his eyes open, staring at you with his eyebrows furrowed. "Huh?"
"Get out."
"What?"
"GET OUT, YOU HAVE A DICK AGAIN."
a/n: a little warm up before i start writing my long femtoji fic
izzy806
ellievsbear
dailybridgerton
turnnoffyourmind
2087
