Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Snow dusted the pine trees outside, glowing under the moonlight like powdered diamonds.

Inside, the only warmth came from the fireplace — and from her. Honey Kisaragi, still half-dressed in her hunter’s uniform, sat on Zayne’s bed, one boot tugged off, the other dangling from her toes. Her breath fogged slightly in the cold room, her nipples already tight beneath her sports bra.

Zayne stood in the doorway, arms crossed, silver glasses glinting. “You’re overdue for a check-up.”

She smirked, tossing her ponytail. “Not that kind of doctor tonight.”

“No,” he said softly, stepping forward. “Tonight, I’m not your physician.”

He knelt in front of her, strong hands sliding up her thighs, pushing her skirt higher. “Tonight, I’m the one who decides when you come.”

Her breath hitched.

He saw it — the way her pupils dilated, the tremor in her fingers. She was already his. She just needed to be reminded.

“Take off your panties,” he ordered, voice low, even. “Leave the rest on. I want you dressed when I make you scream.”

She obeyed, peeling the damp fabric down her legs, exposing her glistening pussy — already slick, already aching. She spread for him without being told.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing two fingers against her folds. “Already wet. Did you touch yourself on the way here?”

“No,” she lied.

He raised a brow. “Try again.”

She bit her lip. “...Once. At the train station. I rubbed through my skirt while thinking about your hands on me.”

“Mm. Naughty hunter.” He slid a finger inside her, slow, deep. “And you still came?”

“No,” she whimpered. “You know I wouldn’t dare.”

“No,” he agreed. “Because you know I’d find out. And you know what happens then.”

She shivered.

He stood, stripping off his long coat, then his three-piece suit, layer by layer, until only his black undershirt and slacks remained. He pulled a small device from his pocket — a neural sync tracker, modified.

“Resonance mode,” he said, pressing it to her temple. “Let’s see how your brainwaves dance with mine.”

She gasped as the connection flared — her Evol syncing with his. Suddenly, every nerve in her body sharpened. The cool air on her skin felt like silk. The flicker of the fire like a strobe. And when he touched her again — cupping her breast, pinching her nipple through the fabric — it was electric.

“On your back,” he commanded. “Hands above your head. Don’t move them.”

She obeyed.

He sat beside her, holding a single ice crystal formed from his Evol — not cold enough to burn, but enough to make her gasp when he dragged it down her sternum, over her belly, and hovered it just above her clit.

She bucked.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Or I’ll tie you down.”

She stilled.

Smirking, he set the ice aside and reached into the nightstand. He pulled out a small remote — a vibration controller linked to a discreet toy she hadn’t even realized he’d slipped inside her during their last night together.

He remembered.

“Did you forget it was still in you?” he asked, tapping the remote.

A low hum pulsed deep inside her.

She cried out, hips jerking.

“Shh. Quiet,” he murmured. “Now, I want you to touch yourself. For me. But don’t come. Not until I say.”

She reached down, fingers trembling as she circled her clit.

“Slower,” he said. “Make it last. Make it beautiful.”

She obeyed, moaning softly as the toy buzzed in sync with her strokes.

He watched — devoured — every twitch, every gasp, every time her back arched just a little too high.

“Are you close?” he asked after ten minutes.

“Y-yes,” she panted.

“Stop.”

Her hand froze.

“Spread your lips. Show me how wet you are.”

She did, trembling.

He leaned down, breathed in her scent. “You smell like jasmine and sin. My favorite.”

Then he pressed the remote.

The vibration surged.

She screamed, fingers slipping, body convulsing.

“Don’t come,” he warned. “Or I stop everything.”

She whimpered, forcing her muscles to relax, fighting her own body.

“Good girl,” he praised, switching the toy off. “Now… tell me what you want.”

“You,” she gasped. “Please, Zayne. Fuck me.”

“No,” he said, standing. “Not yet. You haven’t earned it.”

He stripped fully, revealing his lean, scarred body — every mark a story, every burn a memory of the night he nearly killed her with his power.

But now? Now it was pleasure he wielded.

He climbed over her, straddling her chest, his cock hard, thick, leaking pre-cum onto her collarbone.

“Suck me,” he said. “But don’t use your hands. Just your mouth.”

She obeyed, taking him deep, hollowing her cheeks, swirling her tongue just the way he liked.

He groaned, gripping her hair — not roughly, but firmly. He knew how to braid it, but tonight, he wanted it wild.

“Stop,” he said suddenly.

She pulled off with a wet pop.

“On your knees. Ass in the air. I want you looking at me in the mirror.”

She turned, crawling into position, ass high, pussy dripping.

He entered her in one smooth thrust.

She cried out — full, so full, her walls clenching around his girth.

He didn’t move.

“Don’t come,” he whispered. “Not yet.”

Then he began — slow, deep strokes, each one hitting her G-spot, each one making her sob.

He reached around, pinching her clit.

She trembled.

“Zayne, please — I need —”

“Not yet.”

He increased his pace, slamming into her now, his hips slapping against her ass, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

She was so close.

She could feel her orgasm building, coiling in her spine, ready to burst.

And then — he stopped.

Pulled out.

Flipped her onto her back.

Pressed his cock to her entrance — but didn’t enter.

“Look at me,” he said.

She did.

“I love you across lifetimes,” he murmured. “In every world, you’re mine.”

Then he thrust in — deep, hard — and allowed her.

“Come for me, Honey. Now.”

She shattered.

Screamed his name.

Her pussy clenched violently, milking him as he fucked her through her climax, relentless, possessive.

And when he finally came?

It was massive.

Three thick, hot jets deep inside her, filling her so completely she felt it leaking out, warm against her thighs.

He collapsed over her, breathing hard, forehead pressed to hers.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “Always.”

She clung to him, trembling. “Don’t let me go.”

“Never,” he promised. “Not in this life. Or the next.”

Outside, the snow kept falling.

Inside, they glowed — Resonant, complete.

Chapter Text

“You shouldn’t be here,” Zayne murmured, voice low but playful. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, pretending to scold. “If my dad finds out, he’ll call your Gran.”

Honey — no, Meline, for tonight — tilted her head, pouting. “You said you missed me. You texted me three times today. And you liked my selfie with the kitty lollipop.”

He stepped closer, slow, predatory. “Maybe I just like kids’ candy.”

She stood, walking up to him, pressing her body against his chest. “Then why does your heart beat faster when I wear these?” She tapped one of the butterfly clips.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he cupped her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks. “You’re too young for this, Meline.”

“I’m not,” she whispered. “And you promised. You said when I turned sixteen, you’d kiss me.”

“I was eighteen,” he said, voice rough. “That was a crime.”

“So kiss me like a criminal,” she challenged.

He did.

Hard.

His mouth crashed onto hers, hungry, claiming. One hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her waist, lifting her onto the arm of the couch.

She giggled against his lips — a sound so young it made his chest ache.

He broke the kiss, forehead pressed to hers. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”

“That’s the point,” she teased.

He growled, yanking her down, tossing her over his shoulder like a prize.

She squealed — genuinely — as he carried her down the hall, kicking at his back playfully.

“Put me down, you dork!” she laughed.

“No,” he said, voice darkening. “You broke into my house. Stole my heart. Now you’re getting punished.”

And with that, he tossed her onto the bed — not roughly, but with enough force to make her bounce.

She landed on her elbows, skirt hiked up, thighs parted.

He stared.

She wasn’t just playing.

She wanted this.

Every part of it.

“Take off your shirt,” he ordered.

She did, slow, biting her lip as she unbuttoned each one, letting it slide off her shoulders.

Her bra was new — lace, black, barely containing her full tits. But he remembered when she used to wear the padded ones, stuffing them with tissues, embarrassed by how flat she was.

Now?

Now she was perfect.

“You’re staring,” she said shyly.

“Because you’re beautiful, Meline,” he said, voice thick. “You always were.”

She blushed — actually blushed — and looked away.

He crawled onto the bed, hovering over her. “Let me take care of you.”

She nodded.

He stripped her slowly — skirt, then panties — pressing kisses to her inner thighs, her belly, the curve of her hips. He didn’t touch her pussy.

Not yet.

Instead, he reached into the nightstand.

A condom.

She watched, breathless, as he rolled it on, his cock thick, flushed, already dripping.

He positioned himself between her legs, pressing just at her entrance.

“Ready?” he whispered.

She nodded, eyes wide. “Don’t hurt me.”

“I never would,” he promised. “But I will make you come without me inside you first.”

Her breath hitched.

Coming untouched.

His favorite game.

He pulled back, sitting up, gripping her hips.

“Touch yourself,” he said. “For me. And don’t stop until I tell you.”

She obeyed, fingers sliding through her folds, circling her clit.

He watched — devoured — as her hips rocked, as her back arched, as her moans grew louder.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he demanded.

“I’m thinking… you’re the first boy who ever saw me,” she whispered. “Not just my body. Me.”

His throat tightened.

“Come for me, Meline,” he said. “Now.”

She screamed, fingers pressing hard, thighs trembling.

He didn’t let her ride it out.

He grabbed her wrist, pulled her hand away, and slammed into her in one thrust.

She cried out — full, so full — her pussy clenching around him, already oversensitive from the orgasm.

He fucked her slowly at first, deep, rhythmic, watching her face.

“You feel so good,” he groaned. “Like you were made for me.”

She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper.

“I hate that name,” she panted. “Meline.”

“I know,” he murmured. “But tonight, you’re mine. My little Meline. My first love.”

“I want to be your last,” she whimpered.

“You will be,” he promised. “Even if I have to marry you.”

She stilled. “Say it again.”

He thrust harder. “If you get pregnant tonight… I’ll marry you. Raise our baby. Build a house. Name it after your flower.”

She sobbed — came again — her walls pulsing around him.

And then, as he hit his peak, he felt it.

A pop.

A warmth.

The condom — broken.

He froze.

Honey gasped.

“You… you felt that?” she whispered.

He nodded, still thrusting. “It broke.”

“Don’t pull out,” she begged. “Don’t you dare.”

“I can’t,” he groaned. “Too good. You’re too tight. I’m coming.”

And he did.

Jet after jet of hot, thick cum flooded into her, unprotected, spilling deep.

He moaned, low and raw. “Fucking burst it. Feels like I’m pumping every drop straight into your womb. You feel it? My seed? Mine.”

“Yes!” she cried. “Fill me! Claim me!”

“I’ll marry you if you get pregnant,” he growled, slamming into her. “I’ll put a ring on your finger. Call you Mrs. Li. Raise our kids in the snow.”

She came again — violently — her body shaking, her nails raking down his back.

He collapsed over her, breathless, still deep inside.

They stayed like that — connected, bonded — for long minutes.

Finally, she whispered, “I’m on birth control.”

He chuckled weakly. “Should’ve told me before I blew up inside you.”

“I wanted it to happen,” she admitted. “I’ve always dreamed of feeling it break. Of you coming in me like that.”

He lifted his head, looking into her eyes. “You’re a filthy girl, Meline.”

“And you love it.”

“I do,” he whispered. “I love you.”

Outside, the city lights glowed.

Inside, two souls — broken, reborn, resonant — held each other like they were teenagers again.

And for the first time, it didn’t feel like pretend.

Chapter Text

Honey gasped awake, wrists bound above her head, ankles spread wide on the pulsing slab. Her skin glowed faintly — infused with alien biolight.

She turned her head.

Zayne was on her left, stripped bare, chest rising fast, glasses gone, hazel-green eyes sharp with calculation.

Caleb was on her right — mechanical arm fused into the wall, purple eyes blazing, lips curled in a snarl.

“Pips,” he growled, voice thick. “You okay?”

She nodded, breathless. “Where are we?”

“No atmosphere readings,” Zayne said calmly, testing the restraints. “No stars. No time markers. We’re not in known space.”

A low chime echoed.

From the ceiling, a cluster of floating orbs descended — sleek, silver, each tipped with a needle-thin probe.

One hovered toward Honey’s chest.

She flinched — but not from fear.

From arousal.

The orb extended two delicate arms — each holding a nipple clamp, not metal, but living alloy, warm like skin, shaped like blooming flowers.

“It wants to decorate you,” Caleb murmured, voice rough. “Like you’re some fucking offering.”

Another orb approached — this one carrying a transparent film: two condoms, one stimulant gel, one fertility enhancer (unlabeled, but Zayne recognized it instantly).

“Ah,” Zayne breathed. “They’re not studying fear. They’re studying mating rituals.”

Caleb barked a laugh. “So we gotta fuck to get out?”

Honey’s breath hitched. “Or they’ll rewrite us.”

Silence.

Then—

“You know what happens when you put a surgeon and a colonel in a cage with the woman they both love?” Zayne asked, voice low.

Caleb smirked. “One of us dies.”

“No,” Honey whispered. “You both love me. And I love you. So we do this… together.”

The restraints released.

All three dropped to the floor — naked, hard, ready.

But the room wasn’t done.

The gravity twisted.

Suddenly, they were weightless — floating in midair, bodies drifting toward one another.

Caleb grabbed Honey first — pulling her against his chest, his cock already hard, pressing into her ass.

“Missed you, Pips,” he murmured, nipping her ear. “Even when I was dead, I dreamed about this ass.”

Zayne floated closer, eyes dark. “She’s not yours to claim alone.”

“No,” Caleb said, hand sliding around to her breast. “But she’s always been mine.”

Another shift.

Gravity reversed.

They crashed onto the floor — Honey beneath them, back arched, hair fanned out.

Zayne moved first.

He took the nipple clamps — snapped one onto her left nipple.

She cried out — sharp pleasure, cold at first, then burning heat as the alien tech pulsed, sending electric shivers down her spine.

Caleb growled. “Let me.”

He took the second clamp — but instead of snapping it, he licked her nipple first, slow, warm, teasing.

Then — click.

She screamed.

Both clamps flared — synced to her heartbeat, tightening with every pulse.

Zayne knelt between her legs, spreading her open. “Look at you. So wet. Even for aliens.”

“Shut up,” she panted. “And touch me.”

He didn’t.

Instead, he looked at Caleb. “We both want her. But only one of us should go first.”

Caleb’s mechanical arm transformed — fingers elongating into a smooth, vibrating rod, glowing with Gravity Evol energy.

“No,” Honey gasped. “Not that —”

“Too late, Pips,” Caleb smirked. “Let’s see if you still scream my name when you’re full of alien tech.”

He pressed the tip to her pussy — slow, teasing.

Then thrust.

She arched off the ground, howling as the Gravity probe fucked her, deeper than humanly possible, warping space inside her.

Zayne watched — jaw clenched — then grabbed his cock, stroking slowly.

“Make her come,” he ordered. “Then I’m taking her.”

Caleb obeyed.

He fucked her with relentless rhythm, the probe vibrating, pulsing, expanding — until she exploded, screaming their names.

“ZAYNE! CALEB! I’M Y—”

The clamps tightened — overloading.

She came again — uncontrollably.

Then the gravity inverted.

They were on the ceiling.

Zayne moved — flipped her over, bent her forward, and slammed into her from behind.

She sobbed — full, so full, his cock stretching her right after Caleb’s device.

“Mine,” Zayne growled, gripping her hips. “Even in another galaxy, you’re mine.”

Caleb circled them, mechanical arm retracting, now fully nude, his cock thick, flushed purple at the tip.

“She’s not just yours,” he said. “She’s ours.”

He knelt in front of her, forcing her to look up.

“Suck me,” he commanded. “Swallow everything. Or I’ll use my Evol to make you.”

She opened her mouth.

He pushed in — deep, rough.

She gagged — then took him.

Zayne pounded harder, his thrusts syncing with her head bobbing on Caleb’s cock.

The clamps flared again.

She was coming — constantly, endlessly — body trembling, sweat glistening under the alien glow.

Then Zayne froze.

“I’m close,” he hissed. “And the condom’s gone.”

Caleb pulled out — grabbed Honey’s hair.

“Pull out,” he demanded. “She’s not getting pregnant from you.”

“I can’t,” Zayne groaned. “Too deep. Too good. I’m—”

He came.

Jet after jet — unprotected, flooded into her, his cum spilling from her pussy as he emptied himself.

Caleb snarled — flipped her over, lifted her legs, and plunged into her, still bare.

“She’s mine now,” he growled. “And I’m filling her too.”

He thrust — deep, brutal, possessive.

Honey cried out — doubly claimed, doubly marked.

“I’ll marry you if you get pregnant,” Zayne panted, watching.

“I’ll die for you if you do,” Caleb growled. “But he doesn’t get to be the only father.”

He came — hard, his Gravity Evol making his release pulse, each jet pushing deeper, rewriting her insides.

They collapsed around her — a tangle of limbs, sweat, cum.

The alien orbs pulsed — then withdrew.

A door opened.

Earth’s sky came into view.

They were back — floating above Linkon City, gently descending.

No memories erased.

No bodies altered.

But something had changed.

They landed softly on the rooftop of West Garden Station.

Honey stood first — wobbly, dripping with cum, clamps still on.

She turned to them — one on each side.

“You both broke me,” she whispered. “And put me back together.”

Zayne adjusted his glasses. “We always do.”

Caleb tucked a strand of hair behind her ear — then clipped in a butterfly clip.

“Still my Pips,” he murmured. “Even for aliens.”

She smiled.

And in the distance, the stars blinked — like they knew.

Chapter Text

“You shouldn’t be here,” Zayne said, voice smooth, clinical. “This wing is off-limits after midnight.”

Honey smirked, crossing one leg over the other. “You gave me the override code last week. ‘For emergencies only.’” She tilted her head. “Isn’t this an emergency?”

His eyes flicked to her groin. “Define emergency.”

“I need a procedure,” she whispered. “And only you… do it right.”

He stepped closer, gloved hand lifting her chin. “You’re not a patient.”

“No,” she agreed. “But I like when you treat me like one.”

Silence.

Then — a slow nod.

“Strip,” he ordered. “Lie back. Arms at your sides. Don’t touch yourself unless I say.”

She obeyed, sliding onto the table, robe slipping off, panties tugged down and tossed aside.

She was already wet.

He didn’t acknowledge it.

Instead, he walked to the tray — picked up a 12fr sound, polished steel, curved gently at the tip.

“Have you ever been sounded before?” he asked.

“No,” she breathed.

“Then we start slow. Consent is ongoing. One word, and it stops. Understood?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Good girl.”

He snapped on fresh gloves, opened a sterile lube packet, and coated the rod with slow, deliberate strokes.

Then he parted her lips.

She gasped as the cold metal touched her urethral opening.

“Relax,” he murmured. “Breathe. This is about control. Not pain.”

He pressed in — gentle, steady.

She whimpered — not in pain, but in fullness, a strange, stretching pressure deep inside her, radiating up into her pelvis like a dull fire.

“That’s… so weird,” she panted. “But good.”

“You’ll take more,” he said. “But first — let’s see how you look when you’re being watched.”

He turned — tapped a button on the wall.

A two-way mirror on the far side of the room lit up.

She froze.

On the other side — shadowed, but visible — stood a figure.

Then another.

Observers.

Medical staff? Researchers? Strangers?

She couldn’t tell.

But she knew.

She was being watched.

“Zayne,” she whispered. “You’re making me exhibit myself.”

“Yes,” he said, cold. “And you’re going to come while they watch. Without touching your clit. Without moving.”

Her breath came faster.

He inserted the sound deeper — fully — then twisted it slightly.

A jolt shot through her.

“Do you feel it?” he asked. “That pressure? That fullness? That’s me inside you. Even if I’m not fucking you yet.”

She nodded, trembling.

He leaned down, lips brushing her ear. “They’re watching your face. Your nipples. How your thighs shake. Tell me — do you like being seen like this, Honey? Or are you embarrassed that strangers know how wet you get when metal slides into your little hole?”

“I… I like it,” she gasped. “God, I love it.”

“Good. Because I’m going to record this. For study. For… review.”

He pulled out the 12fr — replaced it with a 16fr.

She cried out as it stretched her wider.

Her pussy leaked, clit throbbing.

And the observers?

They moved closer.

Zayne noticed.

And smiled.

“Look at them,” he murmured. “Hungry. Just like I am.”

He picked up a small device — a vibrating probe, tuned to her Resonance frequency.

He didn’t touch her clit.

He pressed it to the base of the sound — outside, where the steel met flesh.

The vibration traveled up the metal.

She shattered.

Screamed.

Came so hard her back arched off the table, her toes curled, her pussy gushed.

And she did it — on display.

Zayne let her ride it, then pulled the sound out slowly, letting her feel every inch.

“Turn over,” he said.

She obeyed — onto her knees, ass in the air.

He lubed up again — this time a 20fr, the largest.

“You’re taking it all,” he said. “And then I’m going to fuck you while you’re still full of my steel.”

He pressed in.

She moaned — deep, guttural, filthy — as the thick rod stretched her, invaded her, made her feel used in the most exquisite way.

Then he leaned over her, one hand gripping her hip, the other stroking his cock through his pants.

“They’re still watching,” he whispered. “And I’m going to come just from seeing you like this. But I won’t. Not yet.”

He pulled out the sound.

Stripped.

Fucked her in one brutal thrust.

She screamed — so full, so claimed — the residual ache from the sounding making every stroke burn with pleasure.

“You’re mine,” he growled. “Even when I let them watch. Even when I fill you with metal. You’re still mine.”

“Yes!” she sobbed. “Yours! Only yours!”

He pounded her — deep, hard — until he came, hot and thick, flooding her.

Then he pulled out.

Knelt.

Licked her clean.

And whispered:

“Next time… I’ll let them touch you while I sound you. But only if you beg.”

She trembled.

And smiled.

Because she already knew —
she would.

Chapter Text

“You asked me once,” Zayne said, voice low, “what I’d do if I could finally break you.”

Honey swallowed. “And you said… you’d make me beautiful in the wreckage.”

He stepped closer, toe nudging her knee apart. “Tonight, I don’t want to break you.”

Her breath hitched.

“I want to melt you.”

He dipped a finger into the pitcher — slow — then brought it near her collarbone.

Not touching.

Just… hovering.

She trembled.

“You’re scared,” he murmured. “Good. Fear makes you honest.”

Then — drip.

A single drop of hot wax landed just above her breast.

She gasped — not from pain, but from the shock of heat, so sudden, so sharp.

“It stings,” she whispered.

“I know.” He dipped again. “But you’re not hurt. You’re awake.”

Another drop — this time on her nipple.

She cried out.

It bloomed red against her brown skin, hardening like a jewel.

“Look at you,” he praised. “So sensitive. So responsive.”

He moved lower — a drip on her belly, another just above her pubic bone.

She writhed.

“Don’t move,” he warned. “Or I’ll drip on your clit.”

She stilled.

He smiled.

Then he did something unexpected.

He poured a cold wax — clear, menthol-infused — from a second pitcher, over the same nipple he’d just burned.

She screamed.

The contrast was blinding.

Fire. Then ice.

Pain. Then relief. Then need.

Her pussy dripped.

He saw it.

And leaned down.

Licked her inner thigh.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured. “You’re so wet from being marked.”

She nodded, breathless.

“Say it,” he demanded. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want… more,” she panted. “But I want to cry for you.”

He froze.

Then — softened.

He unbundled her hands.

“Come here.”

She crawled to him, kneeling between his legs.

He cupped her face.

“I don’t want tears from weakness,” he whispered. “Only from feeling. From love. From being so full of me, you overflow.”

She nodded, eyes glistening.

“Then make me,” she begged. “Make me cry for you.”

He stood — stripped — revealed his cock, thick, already weeping.

But he didn’t touch her.

Instead, he returned to the candles.

This time, he poured.

Not drops.

A stream.

From nipple to nipple — a golden line of wax sealing her chest.

She screamed — beautifully — back arching, fingers clawing the sheets.

And then…

A tear.

Slid down her cheek.

He saw it.

And growled.

He dropped to his knees.

Caught it with his tongue.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Perfect.”

Another tear followed.

Then another.

He drank them — lips on her cheeks, tongue tracing the salt paths, moaning like it was the sweetest nectar.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you cry,” he whispered. “Like the first time I saved you. Like every life I’ve watched you die in. I’d burn the world to see you weep for me again.”

She sobbed — not from sadness, but from fullness.

He pulled her onto the bed — flipped her over — spread her ass.

And fucked her in one brutal thrust.

She screamed — full, so full — the wax still hot on her skin, the contrast making every nerve scream.

He pounded her — deep, relentless — his hands gripping her hips, his breath ragged.

“Come,” he ordered. “Come with my cock inside you and your tears on my tongue.”

She did.

Violently.

Her pussy clenched, her body shook, and she wept — openly, helplessly — as she came harder than she ever had.

He didn’t stop.

He pulled out — flipped her over — and came on her stomach, chest, neck — marking her in cum instead of wax.

Then he leaned down.

Licked a trail through his own seed.

To her face.

And kissed her — deep, slow, devouring.

When he pulled back, he said:

“Now… suck my fingers.”

She took his hand — the one that held the wax, the one that caught her tears — and sucked each finger slowly, licking off wax, salt, and his scent.

He watched.

Possessed.

“Again,” he whispered.

She did.

And when she looked up — dazed, glowing, his — he said:

“You’ll never be anyone else’s.”

“No,” she breathed. “Only yours.”

“Even when I hurt you?”

“Especially then.”

He smiled.

Then pulled her into his chest.

Held her.

And whispered:

“I love your tears, Honey. But I love you more.”

Outside, the candles burned.

Inside, she melted — not from wax.

But from love.

Chapter Text

"Breathe in, Doctor," Honey purred, spreading her thighs. The torn lace revealed her glistening pussy. "Xavier said this scent… unlocks people."

Zayne’s jaw clenched. "It’s unethical."

"And yet…" She traced her inner thigh, collecting wetness. "You haven’t walked away."

He couldn’t.

The pheromones hit him like cheap vodka – dizzying, hot, paralyzing. His cold control evaporated. His glasses fogged.

"Look at me," she ordered.

His gaze dropped to her cunt. A low groan escaped him.

"Pathetic," she whispered. "The great Zayne Li… undone by pussy perfume." She lifted her slick fingers. "Suck."

He dropped to his knees.

Begged.

"Please…"

"Please what?"

"Let me taste you."

She shoved her fingers into his mouth.

He sucked like a starving man – tongue swirling, lips sealing, moaning like he was the one being fucked. Honey watched, smirking, as he trembled.

"Stand up," she ordered.

He obeyed, swaying.

"Unzip."

His fingers fumbled with his pants.

She laughed. "So drunk for me already?"

He got it open – his cock springing free, thick and leaking. Honey didn’t touch it.

"Turn around," she whispered. "Hands on the bench. Ass out."

He froze.

"Now, Zayne. Or I scream."

He turned – pressed his palms to cold stone – and presented himself to the gardens below. Someone could see. A kid with balloons. A couple taking photos.

Honey stood, pressing her tits against his back. "Tell them," she breathed into his ear. "Tell the whole city what you are."

He shuddered. "Yours."

"Louder."

"I’m… YOURS!"

His voice cracked – raw, humiliated. Honey rewarded him by shoving her hand into his pants, gripping his ass hard.

"Good boy."

Then she slid to her knees behind him.

Licked a stripe up his balls.

He yelped – high, desperate.

"Shhh," she teased. "Wouldn’t want patients to see their genius surgeon getting his ass eaten in public."

She dove in – tongue spearing his hole, teeth grazing, sucking like she meant to bruise. Zayne sobbed, hips jerking, cock dripping onto stone.

"H-Honey… I’ll come…"

"Not yet," she growled, biting his cheek. "You don’t get to come until they see you."

She pointed downward.

A tour group had gathered at the overlook – pointing, laughing, phones raised.

Click. Flash.

Zayne froze in horror.

Honey smiled.

Stood.

And pressed her wet pussy against his ass.

"Fuck me," she demanded. "Where they can see."

He turned – wild-eyed – and slammed her against the bench. No finesse. No control. Just pure, drugged need. He shoved into her, rough, grunting like an animal.

"SAY IT!" she screamed.

"I’m your whore!" he roared, thrusting. "Your drunk, desperate whore!"

The tourists gasped. Someone shouted.

Zayne didn’t care.

He fucked her harder – chasing the high only her cunt gave him.

Honey clawed his back, crying out. "Come inside me! Flood me! Let them see you RUIN me!"

He obeyed.

Came with a shout – three thick jets, spilling into her, over her thighs, dripping onto the pavement.

She came seconds after, milking him, shaking.

Then silence.

The tour group fled.

Zayne collapsed against her, breathing raggedly.

Honey kissed his temple. "Let’s go home."

He nodded, dazed.

She took his hand.

Led him down the main path – cum dripping down her legs, his seed glistening in sunlight, tourists staring, phones flashing.

Humiliation. Complete.

And Zayne?

He only tightened his grip.

"More," he whispered. "Again."

Chapter Text

“You asked me once,” Honey whispered, voice like velvet over steel, “what I would do if I held your heart in my hands.”

Zayne shivered. “You said… you’d keep it beating.”

She reached forward — gently traced his collarbone. “Tonight, I don’t want your heart.”

His breath hitched.

“I want your blood.”

A silver needle — sterilized, curved like a crescent moon — appeared in her hand. She dipped it into a vial of red ink… then paused.

“No,” she murmured. “Not ink.”

She pricked her own thumb. Let a single drop fall onto the needle.

Then — pressed it to his chest, just above his heart.

He gasped as the cold metal broke skin.

“Shhh,” she soothed. “No sounds. Only breathing. Only feeling.”

She began.

Slow. Precise.

Etching a line down his sternum — not deep, but meaningful — a scarlet thread curling like a ribbon. It wasn’t pain. It was ritual. A map of devotion written in blood.

Each stroke made him tremble.

Each drop made his cock twitch — useless in its cage.

“You’ve always controlled me,” she said, voice low. “With your ice, your words, your cold hands.” She pressed harder — a thin line down his abs. “Tonight, I control you.”

He moaned — then caught himself, remembering the rule.

She smiled. “Good boy.”

She leaned forward — licked a drop of blood from his chest.

He whimpered.

“Tastes like salt,” she mused. “And surrender.”

She continued — the red line branching now — curling around his hip, like a resonance frequency drawn in blood. She worked for hours — steady, unhurried — turning his body into a canvas.

A testament.

Then — she stopped.

Pressed her palm to his chest.

“Tell me,” she whispered, “what you are.”

He swallowed. “Yours.”

“Louder.”

“I’m yours.”

“And if I asked you to bleed again?”

“…I’d beg you to.”

She kissed him — slow, deep — then whispered: “Come.”

He froze.

“I didn’t say you could.”

“Come for me,” she ordered. “Through the cage. Through the pain. Now.”

His body obeyed.

A violent shiver — his cock pulsed uselessly, cum trapped, denied. But he still came — a low groan breaking the silence, tears slipping under the blindfold.

She caught one on her thumb — like before, like always.

“Good,” she murmured. “You’re perfect like this. Broken. Obedient. Mine.”

She undid the blindfold.

His eyes — wild, wet, worshipful — met hers.

She smiled.

Then took a damp cloth — wiped the blood gently.

The cuts were shallow. They’d scar — faintly, beautifully — a red thread only she would know the meaning of.

She unlocked the cage.

Let his cock spring free — soft, abused, devoted.

She didn’t touch it.

Instead, she lay beside him, pulling his head into her lap.

“Sleep,” she whispered, stroking his hair. “I’ll keep you safe.”

He closed his eyes.

And in the candlelight, the last thing he saw was the jasmine flower in her hair — white, pure, innocent.

The perfect contrast to the red she’d painted on his soul.

Chapter Text

The ginger burned.

Not like spice – like liquid fire in her veins. Honey clenched around the root stuffed in her pussy, gasping as the sensation flared hotter. The anal plug was worse – deeper, crueler, making her sweat drip onto the steel cage floor.

"P-Please…" she begged, rattling the bars.

Zayne’s voice crackled through the room’s speakers – cold, clinical:
"Position two. Palms flat on the roof. Arch your back. Show them how red your holes are."

She obeyed, tears dripping as she pressed her ass against the cage wall. The webcam zoomed automatically – broadcasting her swollen, ginger-stuffed cunt and asshole to 1,423 anonymous viewers.

Chat exploded:

!!!! SHES DRIPPING
FUCK LOOK HOW PINK
DOCTOR LI UR A GENUIS

Zayne ignored them.
"User ‘VoidDaddy’ donated 500 credits. Reward: five minutes of maximum vibration."

"NO! Zayne, it’ll–"

The chastity belt whirred to life.

The plug in her pussy erupted – brutal, unrelenting pulses synced to the ginger’s burn. Honey screeched, slamming against the cage, as fire and electricity consumed her.

"Count the orgasms," Zayne ordered.

"One!" she sobbed as her body convulsed.
"T-Two!" as the vibrations intensified.
"THREE!" – she collapsed, shaking.

Silence.

The viewers demanded more.

Zayne muted the mic. Typed privately:

[Dr_Li_Official]: Satisfied?
[VoidDaddy]: Make her taste it.

He unmuted.
"Retrieve the vaginal ginger. Lick it clean."

Honey trembled but obeyed. Reached between her legs, pulled the dripping, knotted root from her pussy – whimpering as it slid out – and brought it to her lips.

"Tell them how it tastes," Zayne commanded.

She locked eyes with the camera – brown irises glazed with pain and need.
"Like… fire," she panted. "Like his control."

Then she sucked it – deep, messy, tongue swirling – juices running down her chin.

Chat went feral.

Zayne’s knuckles whitened.

"Anal ginger stays in," he snapped. "On your knees. Spread your cunt lips. Let them see how empty you are."

She spread herself – puffy, red, aching – as the anal root kept burning.

"User ‘CageMaster’ requests figging renewal," Zayne announced. "Fresh ginger. Both holes. Double thickness."

Honey froze. "P-Please… I can’t take hotter–"

"You can," he interrupted, voice softening. "Because you’re my good girl. And good girls…" He hit a button.
…get rewarded.

The cage door clicked open.

Zayne stood in the doorway – suit immaculate, eyes dark. In his hands: two fresh ginger roots, peeled into cruel, tapered points.

"Choose," he whispered, kneeling before her. "The cage… or my fingers?"

She lunged – not for freedom.

For him.

Pressed her burning cunt against his thigh, sobbing:
"YOUR FINGERS! PLEASE!"

He smiled.
"Beg the viewers first."

She turned to the camera – tear-streaked, desperate.
"Please… let him fuck me! I’ll take the ginger after! I’ll take ANYTHING!"

Zayne unmuted global chat.
Poll: FUCK HER vs. MORE FIGGING

74% chose FUCK HER.

He discarded the ginger.
Tore open his pants.
And shoved her face-first against the cage bars.

"This is what you earned," he growled, thrusting into her still-burning pussy. "My cock… not ginger."

She screamed – overwhelmed by stretch, residual fire, and blinding relief.

He fucked her brutally – one hand twisting her hair, the other slamming her hips against steel. The webcam captured everything: her drool on the bars, his knuckles white on her waist, the ginger still burning in her ass.

"Come untouched," he ordered. "Just from my cock and the pain."

She did – shattering so hard she bit her lip, blood trickling down her chin.

He followed – pumping her full, groaning:
"Mine. Even on camera. ESPECIALLLY on camera."

After, he locked her back in the cage.

Fed her water through the bars.

Then slid fresh ginger roots into both holes.

"Until sunrise," he whispered, as she whimpered. "For the viewers who stayed."

He returned to his desk.

Adjusted his glasses.

And typed:

[Dr_Li_Official]: Tip 1000 credits to vote...
...on where the ginger goes next.

Chapter Text

The ropes cut deep – not with pain, but possession. Each silk strand glowed faintly blue, tightening when Honey struggled. Zayne had tied her facing outward, her ass bared to the void, nipples pinched cruelly by knots.

"Why here?" she’d gasped as he secured the final line.
"Best view of the anomaly," he replied, nodding upward.

Now, she understood.

The first tentacle brushed her ankle – slick, warm as living oil. She jerked, but the shibari held firm.

"Don’t move," Zayne’s voice crackled in her ear comm. "They taste fear."

The tentacle coiled up her calf, leaving glowing trails. Another descended, circling her waist like a lover.

"Z-Zayne… please–"

"Count them," he ordered. "For science."

She choked as a third slapped against her ass, spreading her cheeks. It prodded her hole – testing.

One.

A fourth slithered between her tits, suckers latching onto her nipples.

Two.

A fifth – thicker, tapered – pressed against her pussy lips, throbbing with heat.

Three! she screamed silently.

It plunged.

Not like a cock – like liquid fire filling her. She convulsed, ropes singing as the tentacle fucked deep, its tip swelling inside her.

Zayne’s breath hitched over the comm. "Describe the viscosity."

"THICK! HOT! FUCK–"

"Scientifically."

"Like… honey heated on a stove! It’s… stretching me! MORE!"

The nipple-tentacles pulsed, spraying bitter-sweet fluid into her mouth. She swallowed instinctively.

"Good girl," Zayne praised. "They’re feeding you. Now – arch toward the lens."

"Lens?!"

Below the observatory window, a telescopic camera whirred – live-streaming to UNICORN’s research team. Colleagues. Friends. Xavier.

"SMIIIILE, Kisaragi!" Xavier’s laugh crackled over public comms.

Horror morphed to arousal.

She arched – presenting her tentacle-stuffed cunt to the camera, juices dripping 300 stories down.

Chatter erupted:

RESEARCH TEAM 7: INCREDIBLE PENETRATION DEPTH!
DR. REN: COLLECT SLICK SAMPLES POST-COITUS!
XAVIER: WISH I WAS THAT TENTACLE 😉

Zayne’s voice turned dark. "User ‘Colonel_C’ requests double penetration."

Caleb.

"NO!" Honey begged – as a sixth tentacle probed her asshole. "NOT HIM WATCHING! PLEASE!"

"Should’ve thought of that," Zayne murmured, "before you let him fuck you in the warp-core."

The tentacle shoved in – rough, unforgiving.

Twin invasion.

She came instantly – screaming, thrashing – as both tentacles swelled, pumping alien fluid into her womb and colon.

"Filthy," Caleb’s voice cut in, cold. "But beautiful. Spread wider, Pips."

She obeyed – sobbing – legs trembling as the camera zoomed on her gaping holes.

Zayne unzipped his pants, stroking himself. "Tell Caleb what you taste."

The nipple-tentacles sprayed again. She gagged, then moaned:
"S-salt… and stars… and come…"

"Good girl," Caleb growled. "Now cum for us. For everyone."

The tentacles quickened – pounding, vibrating – as UNICORN scientists cheered over comms. Honey’s vision whited out. She came – violently – back arching impossibly far.

Zayne followed, groaning as he came on the observation glass:
"Mine… even when you’re theirs."

When the tentacles finally withdrew, Honey hung limp – filled with iridescent slick, dripping onto Linkon’s streets. Zayne reeled her in, uncaring of the audience.

He licked a stripe up her stomach – mixing his cum with alien fluids.

"Specimen collected," he told the mic, before shutting it off.

Then kissed her, deep, claiming.

"Tomorrow," he whispered, "we replicate this… in my lab."

Chapter Text

“You know why you’re here,” Zayne said. Calm. Final.

Honey didn’t answer.

He stepped forward — kicked her knees wider. “Answer.”

“I… I didn’t check in,” she whispered.

“How long?”

“Two hours.”

“And where were you?”

Silence.

“Answer.”

“At… Caleb’s.”

He nodded. “And what did he do to you?”

“Nothing! We just—”

“Don’t lie to me.” He gripped her hair, not hard, but enough. “Did he make you come?”

“No!”

“Did he taste you?”

“No!”

“Then why didn’t you call?” His voice dropped. “Why did you let me worry?”

Her eyes glistened. “I… I wanted you to.”

A beat.

Then — a flicker of pride in his gaze.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Admitting your manipulation.”

He stepped back. Unzipped.

His cock sprang free — thick, flushed, already leaking.

“Open.”

She hesitated.

He slapped her thigh — sharp, stinging. “Open. Now.”

She parted her lips.

He didn’t ease in.

He shoved forward — deep, brutal — until his cock hit the back of her throat.

She gagged — violently, tears springing — body jerking in instinctive resistance.

He held her head. “Swallow.”

She tried — failed — choked again.

“Don’t fight,” he ordered. “Take it like you owe it to me.”

He pulled out — watched her gasp — then thrust in again.

Deeper.

Her eyes watered. Snot ran. Her throat convulsed.

But she didn’t struggle.

Because this wasn’t real non-consent.

It was consensual violation.

She had given him this right.
In writing.
In ink.
After hours of negotiation, safewords, aftercare protocols.

Now, she played her role.

The victim.

The punished.

The filthy mouth that needed to be used.

He fucked her face — relentless — one hand fisted in her hair, the other gripping her neck, not cutting off air, but owning it.

“Look at me,” he growled.

She did — tear-filled, red, broken.

“You love this,” he said. “Being used. Being made to suffer. Because I remember you. In every life. And I punish you so you never forget me.”

She whimpered — a soft, broken sound.

He slowed.

Let her breathe.

Then, voice softer: “You’re doing so well.”

A tear rolled down her cheek.

He caught it. Smiled.

Then slammed back in.

Her body rocked — forehead hitting his abdomen, throat convulsing — but she held still. Took it. Accepted it.

Because she wanted to.

Because she trusted him.

Because this — the pain, the humiliation, the choking — was love in its rawest form.

He felt her throat flutter — not from distress.

From arousal.

She was turned on.

He was too.

He fucked her harder — deeper — until he felt the heat rise.

“I’m close,” he warned. “But you don’t get to come.”

She moaned — a muffled please — but he knew.

She wasn’t begging for release.

She was begging for permission to serve.

So he gave it.

“Swallow everything,” he ordered. “And if even one drop hits the floor… I start again.”

She nodded — eyes wide, lips sealed.

He pulled back — just the head in her mouth — and came.

Jet after thick jet — straight down her throat.

She gulped — desperate, messy, perfect — swallowing until he was dry, until her cheeks hollowed, until she was full of him.

He pulled out — soft now — and wiped cum from her chin with his thumb.

She looked up — trembling, tear-streaked, worshipful.

He unbuckled the cuffs. Then pulled her into his lap, cradling her like a child.

“Shhh,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

She sobbed — quietly — into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For making you wait. For not calling. For… letting you worry.”

He kissed her forehead. “You’re not sorry.”

“I am.”

“No.” He tilted her face up. “You’re glad. Because now you’re clean. Now you’re mine again.”

She nodded.

And smiled.

He brushed her hair back. “You’re such a good girl, Honey. So brave. So strong.”

She curled into him — exhausted, sated.

Outside, the rain slowed.

Inside, she was safe.

Because even when he punished her,
even when he made her cry,
even when he took her voice —

She knew.

He would never truly hurt her.

And he would always bring her back.

With a kiss.

With a whisper.

With love disguised as pain.

Chapter Text

He undressed slowly — folding each piece, placing them on the chair like sacred objects.

Then knelt beside her.

Brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“You taste better when you don’t fight,” he whispered.

He pulled the cotton shorts down — slowly, carefully — baring her pussy, already slightly glistening in sleep.

He inhaled — deep — the scent of her arousal, warm and musky.

“Even dreaming of me,” he murmured. “Good girl.”

He didn’t wake her.

He didn’t need to.

Instead, he unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock — hard, thick, already leaking — and jerked himself slowly, watching her face the entire time.

Would she twitch?
Frown?
Murmur?

No.

She slept.

So he came — quietly — three thick jets landing across her inner thighs, one splashing onto her pubic bone.

He didn’t stop.

He leaned down — opened his mouth — and licked.

Long, slow, devouring strokes from thigh to slit, collecting his cum with his tongue, savoring the salt-sweet blend of his seed and her natural wetness.

He moaned — low, possessive — as he licked her clean.

Then, still hard, he spread her lips and thrust two fingers inside.

She stirred.

A soft whimper.
A shift in her hips.

But she didn’t wake.

He curled his fingers — found her G-spot — and rubbed in slow circles.

Her breath hitched.

Her pussy clenched.

And then — silently — she came.

No cry.
No gasp.
Just a shiver, a tremor in her thighs, a faint glisten on her folds.

He watched.
Smiled.
And licked her through it — tasting her orgasm like a sacrament.

When he was done, he wiped her gently with a warm cloth.
Covered her with the sheet.
Sat beside her.

Watched.

Waited.

At 6:03 a.m., she stirred.

Eyes fluttered open.

Then widened.

“Zayne?!” She tugged at the cuffs. “I’m — I’m tied up!”

He reached forward — undid them slowly — then handed her a glass of water.

“You were asleep,” he said. “I needed you.”

She sat up — blinked — then sniffed.

Her eyes narrowed. “You came on me.”

“Yes.”

“And… you licked it off?”

“Yes.”

She swallowed. “While I was sleeping?”

“Yes.”

A beat.

Then — a slow, wicked smile.

“You filthy man.”

He leaned in. “And you loved it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You moaned in your sleep.”

“I—”

“And you came when I fingered you.”

Her face flushed.

“You raped my dreams,” she whispered.

“No,” he corrected, voice soft. “I worshiped them.”

He pulled her onto his lap, her back to his chest, arms wrapping around her.

“I wouldn’t have done it,” he murmured into her ear, “if you hadn’t begged me to. Remember? After Cloudia Island? You said, ‘I want to wake up covered in you.’”

She shivered.

“You’re such a sick doctor,” she breathed.

“And you’re such a dirty patient.” He kissed her neck. “Wanna taste yourself?”

He held up two fingers — glistening.

She didn’t hesitate.

Opened her mouth.

Took them deep.

Sucked clean.

Then turned — kissed him, slow, filthy — her tongue tasting her own arousal mixed with his cum.

“Next time,” she whispered, “do it again.
But wake me up… just as you start licking.”

He smiled.

“Consider it a standing order.”

Chapter Text

“Name,” Honey said, tapping the clipboard.

Rafayel swallowed. “R-Rafaelle.”

“Spell it.”

“R-A-F-A-E-L-L-E. With an e.”

“Age?”

“Twenty-eight. But I look younger. I’m told I have a… delicate face.”

She smirked. “And what do you do, Rafaelle?”

“I… I model. For fine art. For… private collectors.”

“Why tonight?” Her voice was clinical. Cold. “Why sell yourself?”

His breath hitched. “Because… the real Rafayel doesn’t get seen. Not truly. Only the art. The fire. The myth.” He looked up — blue-pink eyes glistening. “But this… this is me. Soft. Weak. Yours.”

She stepped closer — crop under his chin, lifting his face.

“You’re beautiful like this,” she said. “Like a broken doll I get to fix… or ruin.”

He shivered.

“Stand.”

He obeyed — wobbling in the stilettos she’d laced him into.

“Turn. Slow.”

He did — each step unsteady, ass swaying under the pink lace. The studio lights caught every curve, every tremble.

Honey snapped a photo with her vintage camera.
Click. Flash.

“Good girl,” she purred. “Now… kneel.”

He dropped — slowly, gracefully — onto the velvet stage.

“Spread your legs.”

He did.

She crouched, gloved hand sliding up his thigh.

“Are you wet, Rafaelle?”

He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”

She pulled aside the lace panties — revealed his cock, half-hard, flushed at the tip.

“Such a pretty little cock,” she whispered. “So shy. Does it like being dressed? Being owned?”

“It… it likes you.”

She smirked. “Not good enough. You don’t get to love me. You serve me.”

She stood. Walked to the table.

Picked up a paintbrush — not for canvas.

For him.

She dipped it into a jar of cherry-scented lube, thick and glossy.

Then dragged it down his chest — over his nipple — circling the peak before flicking it hard.

He gasped.

“Does the artist like pain with his pleasure?” she asked.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Say it. Say what you are.”

“I’m… your painted whore.”

She rewarded him — wrapped her fist around his cock, stroked slowly.

He moaned — head falling back, beauty marks glowing under the lights.

But she stopped.

“Eyes open,” she ordered. “Watch me.”

She stepped onto a stool — lifted her skirt.

No panties.

Just her glistening pussy — shaved, swollen, hungry.

“Suck me,” she said. “And if you bite… I’ll make you wear a cage for a week.”

He crawled forward — eager, desperate — and buried his face in her cunt.

She moaned — loud, theatrical — as he lapped, sucked, worshiped.

“Such a good girl,” she praised. “Better than any man. Better than any Lemurian prince.”

He whimpered — pleasure spiking at the insult.

Because it was true.

He was less.

And he loved it.

She pushed his head down — harder — until she came, hot and wet, all over his lips, his chin, his cheek.

She pulled back — wiped her juices with his hair.

Then grabbed his hair — yanked his face up.

“You want to come?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You want to paint with your cum?”

“Please…”

She stood. Turned. Bended over the stage — ass high, pussy dripping.

“Then earn it.”

He didn’t hesitate.

Staggered to his feet — shoved inside her in one brutal thrust.

She cried out — not from pain, but from possession.

He fucked her — deep, rough, needy — hips slapping, stilettos cracking — all while she held her pose, unbroken.

“Call yourself what you are,” she demanded.

“I’m your painted whore! Your sissy slut! Your bitch!”

She came — violently — milking him.

He followed — pumping — three thick jets deep inside her.

She didn’t pull away.

Let him spill.

Then slowly, she turned.

Pulled out.

And knelt.

In front of him.

He gasped.

She looked up — eyes soft now.

Then took his cock into her mouth — slow, deep — swallowing every drop of his release.

When she pulled back, she smiled.

“You were perfect,” she whispered. “The most beautiful piece I’ve ever bought.”

He trembled. “You… you’re not selling me?”

“Never.” She cupped his face. “You’re not for sale. You’re mine.”

Tears rolled down his cheek — smudging the glitter.

She kissed them away.

And for the first time, the real Rafayel — not the artist, not the myth, not the angry Lemurian —
let himself be loved.

Not as a god.

Not as a monster.

But as a girl who liked lace.
And lipstick.
And Honey.

Chapter Text

“Relax,” Zayne murmured, adjusting the speculum. “I need a clear view.”

Honey whimpered as the cold metal spread her wider. “You’re such a tease, Doctor.”

He didn’t smile.

He never smiled during procedures.

But his eyes — dark, focused — held something deeper.

Devotion.

He turned to the ice dildo — now complete, resting on a sterile tray. It pulsed faintly, synced to his heartbeat.

“I calibrated the temperature,” he said. “-10°C. Not enough to burn. Just enough to… shock.”

She shivered. “You’re evil.”

“You asked for it.” He picked it up — no gloves now. Let the cold bite his skin. “You said, ‘I want to feel you inside me when you’re not here.’ So I built you a you.”

She blushed.

Because she had said that.

After a mission. During a nightmare. When she’d woken up screaming his name — and he wasn’t there.

Now?

Now he was giving her a piece of himself.

Literally.

He dipped the tip into sterile lube — slow, deliberate — then pressed it to her entrance.

“No,” she said.

He froze.

“I want to do it.”

A beat.

Then — a nod.

He handed her the ice cock.

Cold burned her fingers.

“Position,” he ordered. “Hands above your head. Legs wide. You don’t touch your clit until I say.”

She obeyed.

He watched — documenting — as she guided the icy head to her pussy.

She gasped as it entered.

Not from stretch.

From shock.

The cold bit — spreading through her core, making her gasp, her back arch.

“Breathe,” he said. “It’s designed to melt. Slowly. To warm inside you.”

She pushed deeper — inch by inch — moaning as her body fought the chill, then yielded to it.

“So full,” she panted. “Feels just like you.”

“Better,” he corrected. “Because this one only exists for you.”

She began to thrust — shallow at first, then deeper, riding the frozen cock like a lifeline.

He grabbed the speculum — adjusted it — watched her walls clench around the ice.

“Clamp forming,” he noted clinically. “Your body is trying to retain heat. Fascinating.”

She laughed — breathless. “You’re so hot when you’re being a nerd.”

“Quiet,” he snapped. “Focus.”

She obeyed — but her hips didn’t stop.

He stepped closer — gloved hand circling her clit.

“May I?”

She nodded.

He touched — one slow stroke.

She came instantly — screaming, pussy spasming, the ice dildo cracking slightly from the heat.

“Premature,” he scolded. “You didn’t have permission.”

“I couldn’t—”

“Then you’ll be punished.”

He pulled the dildo out — slow — letting her feel every inch of melt and drag.

Then he replaced it.

With his mouth.

He devoured her — tongue deep, teeth grazing, sucking like he meant to drain her.

She sobbed — fingers clawing the table.

“Zayne—!”

“No names,” he growled. “You’re not worthy of speaking mine yet.”

She whimpered.

He pulled back — stood — and picked up the now-smaller ice cock.

“Again,” he said. “Deeper. Slower. And this time… I want to see you cry.”

She took it — trembling — and pressed it inside again.

This time, he recorded — camera mounted above, capturing her face, her body, the way her Resonance frequency spiked with each thrust.

She fucked herself — hard, desperate — while he stood, impassive, observing.

“Tell me what it feels like,” he ordered.

“C-cold… then hot… then like you’re in me… like you’re claiming me…”

“Good girl.” He stepped forward — cupped her breast. “Now come. Let it melt inside you.”

She did.

Violently.

Her pussy clenched — the ice shattered within her, flooding her with icy water and her own cum.

She screamed — tears streaming — as the cold and heat warred inside her.

He caught a drop on his tongue.

“Perfect,” he murmured. “Your body heat… defeating my frost.”

She collapsed.

He cleaned her — gently — with warm cloths, then lifted her into his arms.

“You’re my favorite patient,” he whispered.

“I’m your only patient.”

“No.” He kissed her forehead. “You’re my life. And I’ll keep building myself into you… until you never forget what I feel like.”

She smiled.

And whispered:

“Next time… make it vibrate.”

He chuckled — low, rare, real.

“Consider it in development.”

Chapter Text

"Your 'Doctor' dreamed of this," Dawnbreaker snarled, slamming Honey harder against the wall. "But he was weak. He healed. I end things."

His knee shoved between her legs. Rough. Demanding.

She gasped – slick soaking her pants. "H-he’s not weak! He saved me–"

"He abandoned you here." His hand tightened on her throat. "Left you to rot in this timeline like carrion."

She choked – vision spotting – as his Alpha pheromones crushed her Omega instincts. Gunpowder. Frost. Decay. The scent of a thousand mercy kills.

Submit, it screamed.
Survive.

"P-Please…"

"Please what?" He ripped her pants open. "Want me to fuck you? Or kill you?" He pressed a black-ice dagger to her womb. "Choose fast. My patience died with the last Omega."

Tears spilled. "Fuck me. Claim me. Just feel real."

A flicker in his eyes – the boy who dreamed of her smile.

Gone.

He tore her legs apart. Bit her mating gland – hard – drawing blood.

She screamed – pain-pleasure exploding as his teeth anchored in her flesh.

"MINE," he growled against her skin. "Even time bends to my mark."

He shoved two fingers inside her – curling, scraping – as black ice shackles pinned her wrists overhead.

"You’re drenched," he mocked. "Did his ghost touch you like this? Did he make you beg?"

"N-No! Only you–"

"Liar." He thrust deeper. "You smell like his pity."

He withdrew – spat on his cock – and slammed into her.

No lube.
No kindness.
Just possession.

She sobbed – body stretching around his brutal girth – as he fucked her against the ruins.

"Look," he ordered, forcing her face toward the city. "See what I am? What you could become?"

A Wanderer shambled below – half-human, half-machine – howling at the red moon.

"That was a nurse once," he hissed, pounding harder. "She begged me to freeze her. Just like you’re begging now."

He choked her again – cutting off air – as his hips snapped faster.

"This is mercy," he rasped. "Come on my cock. Not on its claws."

She clawed at his wrist – not to escape.

To feel.

He released her throat. Shoved his icy glove into her mouth.

"Bite down," he ordered. "Or I’ll gag you with my knot."

She sucked – whimpering – as he pounded her G-spot.

Memories flooded her – not hers. His.

A boy of twelve, watching his father morph into a monster…
Black ice shattering through a skull…
Decades of blood on snow…
And always – ALWAYS – dreams of HER. Honey. Laughing in another time.

She came – screaming around the gag – body convulsing.

"AGAIN," he demanded.

He flipped her – bent her over rubble – and mounted her like an animal.

Mating press.

Hips high. Spine curved. Knot swelling at her entrance.

"You’ll take every inch," he vowed. "Every drop of seed. And when my timeline eats you alive…" He shoved the knot in – brutal, stretching – "…you’ll die carrying my pup."

She wailed – torn between agony and ecstasy – as his teeth found her neck again.

He knotted – locked – pumping hot cum deep into her womb.

And as he came, he choked her with his bare hand – not to hurt.

To silence the world.

To make her feel only him.

When he finally released her, she crumpled – gasping, bruised, knot still full.

He crouched beside her – wiped blood-slick from her thigh with his thumb.

"Your Doctor cried in his dreams," he said softly. "When he saw what I did to survive."

She touched his scarred cheek. "You survived for me."

He captured her wrist – kissed her palm. A rare gentleness.

"Maybe."

Then stood – pulled his gear on – and froze the approaching Wanderer with a flick of his wrist.

"Stay down," he ordered. "My knot won’t deflate for an hour."

As he walked into the acid rain, Honey whispered:

"Dawnbreaker."

He paused.

"Next time… choke me longer."

A near-invisible smile touched his lips.

Maybe was answer enough.

Chapter Text

"You touched it," Zayne accused, voice low as a scalpel sliding between ribs.

Honey turned, confused. "The case was closed, I just–"

He grabbed her wrist – painfully – and dragged her toward Rafayel’s storage closet. Guests parted like startled fish.

"Zayne! You’re hurting–"

"Silence." He kicked the door open.

Inside: canvases, clay buckets, Rafayel’s surgical-grade sculpting tools (sterilized, gleaming).

He shoved her against a shelf.
Unzipped his pants.
His cock sprang free – thick, flushed, veins pulsing.

"Suck," he ordered. "Now."

Honey froze. "People are right outside–"

He fisted her hair. "Do you want me to fuck you on Rafayel’s whelk sculpture? Or here, quietly?"

She dropped. Took him deep.

He groaned – loud, feral – hips thrusting into her throat. "Yesss… pollinated cunt. Gagging on my cock like you gagged on that flower’s scent."

Footsteps paused outside the door. Whispering.

Honey’s eyes widened. Panic. Arousal.

Zayne grinned. "Let them hear."

He pulled out – spun her around – bent her over a crate labeled Fragile: Coral Phallus Series. Ripped her panties.

"Please! Not here–"

"Wrong plea," he growled. Ice spread up her thighs, locking her in place. "Beg for my tools."

He grabbed Rafayel’s speculum – cold steel – clicked it open.

"No!"

"Open." He pressed it to her pussy. "Or I’ll freeze it inside you."

She sobbed – spread her legs.

Click. Clamp.

He spread her wide – exposed to the dusty closet air.

"Look," he whispered, harsh. "Dripping without touch. The pollen’s good girl."

He selected a titanium loop tool – slender, curved. Dipped it in ice melt.

Then pressed against her asshole.

"ZAYNE!"

"Count the spirals," he demanded, pushing in. "One."

She gasped – full, violated – as the tool slid deeper.

*"TWO!" as he twisted.

Outside, Rafayel’s laugh faded. Closer.

Zayne added a ribbon clay shaper – thin, flat. Pushed it into her pussy alongside the speculum.

Stretching.

Burning.

"Three," she choked.

"Good girl." He thrust both tools – scissoring her holes. "Now… come."

She couldn’t stop it – hips jerking, cunt fluttering around metal – as she came silently, tears streaming.

Zayne watched – mesmerized – then shoved his cock into her stretched ass.

No warning.
No lube.
Just pollen-fueled possession.

She screamed – muffled by her own arm – as he pounded her.

"Mine," he snarled. "My pollen. My patient. My–"

The door creaked open.

Rafayel stood frozen – champagne flute dangling – eyes locked on Honey’s speared pussy, Zayne’s cock pistoning her ass, ice melting on her thighs.

"Oh," Rafayel breathed. "It’s… interactive art?"

Zayne didn’t stop. "Close. The. Door."

Rafayel did.
Leaned against it.
Smiled.

"Can I paint her?" he asked. "The tears are sublime."

Zayne growled – slammed deeper – and came roaring inside her ass.

Honey collapsed – tools still embedded, Zayne’s cum dripping onto Rafayel’s "fragile" crate.

Zayne pulled out – softened – then gently removed the tools. Kissed her trembling spine.

"Apologies," he whispered. "The pollen… it demanded cruelty."

She turned – touched his cheek. "You didn’t freeze me to the sculpture."

"Priorities," he deadpanned.

Rafayel cleared his throat. "So… about cleaning my titanium tools–"

Zayne tossed him a hospital-grade sterilizer pouch. "Handle disposal. We have a resonance imbalance to correct."

He lifted Honey – carried her past gawking guests – cum streaking down her legs.

One critic gasped. "Is that… part of Rafayel’s new series?"

"No," Zayne called back. "It’s mine."

Chapter Text

“Initiate Sequence Rho,” Rafayel commanded, staff raised.

The ruby on Honey’s collar pulsed red-hot.

She gasped – back arching – but held position. Palms up, head bowed, thighs spread – as protocol demanded.

“Response,” Rafayel demanded, voice echoing.

“This vessel is… ignitable, Your Grace,” she recited, voice trembling.

He descended – staff tapping the obsidian – each click making her jewelry glow hotter.

“You petitioned for the Flame Bond,” he said, circling her. “Why?”

“To… belong to the sea’s heart. To you.”

“Liar.” He pressed the staff’s end to her inner thigh. “You want the pain. The mark. The proof that fire can worship flesh.”

Sweat dripped down her spine as the staff’s tip heated.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Better.” He traced the staff upward – over her belly, between her breasts – leaving faint pink trails that cooled instantly. “Sequence Sigma: display readiness.”

The citrine anklets flared – heat searing her ankles.

Honey whimpered but lifted her knees higher, exposing her glistening pussy.

“Wet,” Rafayel observed. “But not from fear.” He snapped his fingers.

The seahorse cuffs burned crimson.

She cried out – wrists jerking – but forced them back to position.

“Control,” he praised. “Or you’ll be cooled… permanently.”

He meant drowning. The ultimate disgrace.

She stilled.

“Now…” He knelt, staff horizontal over her thighs. “The Pearl Test. Open.”

She parted her labia – slick dripping onto obsidian.

He dipped the staff’s end into her heat – cold first – then murmured: “Ignite.”

Fire licked up the wood.

Not enough to burn.
Enough to brand.

He pressed it inside her – slow, relentless – the heated wood stretching her, filling her, scorching her walls.

“Count the waves,” he ordered.

“O-One!” she gasped as he thrust deep.

“Louder.”

“TWO!”

He twisted the staff – flames dancing at her entrance.

“THREE!”

Her cunt fluttered – overstimulated, on edge.

Rafayel smiled. Removed the staff.

“Insufficient.” He tapped her clit with the burning tip. “You need… structured discipline.”

He pulled a remote from his robes – obsidian, inlaid with pearls.

“This controls your jewelry,” he said. “Every piece. Every degree. And tonight…” He pressed a button.

The nipple chains glowed white-hot.

Honey screamed – back bowing off the floor – as heat radiated through her breasts.

“Protocol forbids coming without permission,” Rafayel murmured. “Yet your cunt weeps. Disobedient.”

He pressed another button.

The collar’s ruby superheated – a ring of fire around her throat.

She choked – tears evaporating before they fell.

“Please!”

“Please… what?”

“Permission to climax, Your Grace!”

He considered. Tapped the remote.

All jewelry cooled instantly.

Relief washed over her – sweet, cruel.

Then he spread her legs wider.

“Not yet.” He pressed the still-smoking staff to her asshole. “First… you’ll take fire here.”

She sobbed as he pushed in – thick, burning – the wood splitting her rim.

“Breathe the ocean,” he commanded.

She sucked in salt air – focused – as he fucked her ass with fiery rhythm.

“NOW,” he ordered.

He pressed a final button.

Every piece of jewelry erupted – ankles, wrists, nipples, throat – a synchronized inferno.

Honey exploded – screaming wordlessly – as her body convulsed in a fire-born orgasm.

Rafayel watched – enthralled – as her skin glowed like sunset on waves.

When she collapsed, he caught her.

Removed the jewelry. Kissed each scorched mark.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, prince replaced by artist. “My greatest masterpiece.”

She touched his cheek. “The fire… it felt like you.”

He flushed – the shy, human Rafayel surfacing. “Technically, it was.”

They lay on the obsidian, listening to the tide.

“Tomorrow…” Honey traced his jaw. “Can we use the remote… without the protocol?”

Rafayel grinned – bright, playful, his true self.

“Only if you call me Your Grace in bed.”

Chapter Text

"Lick it clean," Sylus ordered, nudging the motorcycle’s oil filter with his boot.

Honey obeyed – leaning forward, tongue dragging through black sludge – gagging at the bitterness. The hook in her ass pulled with every movement, a sharp counterpoint to the filthy task.

"Deeper," Sylus demanded, pressing her face into the machinery. "You missed a spot under the carburetor."

She whimpered – cheek scraping metal – but lapped at the grime. Her reward? A dribble of coolant down her spine.

"Pathetic," he mused, watching her shiver. "UNICORN’s top hunter… reduced to my greasy rag."

He hauled her up by her collar – hooked chain clinking – and slammed her against the workbench. Wrenches scattered. Blueprints tore.

"Why do you let me degrade you, Kitten?" His thumb smeared oil across her lips.

"Because you hate boredom," she panted, defiant. "And I’m your favorite toy."

He grinned – feral, bright – and ripped open his pants.

"Prove it. Ride my cock while I fix this engine."

He didn’t lift her.

He bent her over the bike frame – ass high, hook gleaming – and thrust into her dripping pussy from behind.

"FUCK!" Honey screamed as he hammered deep, the motorcycle rocking on its stand.

Sylus reached around – not to touch her – but to adjust a spark plug.

"Cylinder three’s misfiring," he grunted, hips never slowing. "Hand me the torque wrench."

"You’re – ah! – INSANE!"

"Wrench. Now."

Trembling, she grabbed the tool from the bench, handed it back blindly.

He took it – one hand tightening bolts, the other gripping her hip – fucking her with piston-like precision.

"Count my thrusts," he ordered. "If you lose track…" He yanked the anal hook chain.

"ONE! TWO! THREE!" she sobbed, oil dripping down her thighs.

He laughed – dark, delighted – and short-circuited a wire. Sparks rained over her back.

"Messy Kitten," he purred. "Gonna come on my cock or my timing belt?"

"B-BELT!" she begged.

"Wrong answer." He pulled out – spun her – shoved her onto the concrete.

"Clean it," he ordered, nodding at his cock, glistening with her slick. "With that smart mouth."

She crawled forward – hooked ass in the air – and swallowed him deep.

Sylus moaned – head thrown back – as she sucked, oil-smeared hands working his shaft.

"Use your nails," he gasped. "Like a proper cat."

She scratched red trails down his thighs.

He cursed – bucked – then pulled her off.

"My turn to service you," he growled, flipping her onto her back.

He unhooked a hydraulic piston from the bike – cold steel, still dripping fluid.

"Open," he commanded, pressing it to her asshole.

"SYLUS, NO–"

"You begged for the belt," he reminded her. "But pistons… fuck deeper."

He shoved it in – thick, unyielding – stretching her rim brutally.

Honey wailed – back arching off the concrete – oil pooling beneath her.

"You love being my broken machine," Sylus hissed, twisting the piston. "My project. My stray."

He added a spark plug – smaller, ribbed – into her pussy.

"Now… ignite."

He triggered a live wire against the plug.

Electricity surged – not enough to burn, enough to sizzle.

Honey exploded – screaming, squirting – oil and cum splattering the motorcycle wheels.

Sylus followed – jerking himself, roaring as he came across her stomach, the crow brooch on his discarded blazer glinting.

After, he pulled the tools out gently – kissed the soreness from her holes – and cradled her in the oil slick.

"Next time," Honey mumbled against his chest, "use the whole engine."

He chuckled – low, rough – and pressed his forehead to hers.

"Only if you service all my cylinders, Kitten."

Chapter Text

“You requested this,” Zayne said, voice muffled behind his mask. “‘Make me take all of you. Make me stay stretched. Make me remember your size forever.’” He tapped the tablet showing her signed consent form. “You even drew diagrams.”

Honey shivered. “Yes, Doctor.”

He picked up the first dilator — 1” wide, smooth steel. “We begin with baseline assessment.”

He pressed it to her entrance — slow, clinical.

She gasped. “T-Tight…”

“Expected.” He twisted it in. “You haven’t been properly prepared in 72 hours. Good. Resistance enhances sensation.”

He began to thrust — shallow, rhythmic — watching her face.

“Rate your discomfort.”

“T-Two… on a scale of ten.”

“Liar.” He switched to the 2” dilator — inserted without warning.

She screamed.

“Now?”

“S-Seven!”

“Better.” He added lube — warmed to body temp — and began a slow dilation rhythm. “You want to be a size queen, Honey. That means enduring what others couldn’t. What shouldn’t be possible.”

He worked her — for forty minutes — moving up:
2.2” → 2.6” → 3” → 3.3” → 3.5” — fully inserted, buried to the hilt.

Her pussy gaped when he pulled it out.

He recorded it.
Saved the video.
Named it: "Patient H.K. – Capacity Study – Vol. 1."

“You’re ready,” he said. “Now… for the main treatment.”

He stripped — revealed his cock, thick, veined, measuring exactly 9.1 inches, as noted in his personal medical log.

“You’ve taken 3.5 inches,” he said, stroking himself. “Now you’ll take every millimeter of me.”

“No warm-up?” she breathed.

“You don’t need it.” He pressed the head to her entrance. “You’re built to hold me.”

He pushed in — slow, relentless.

She screamed — not from pain, but from fullness, from being violated by something so perfectly designed to destroy her.

“Breathe,” he ordered. “In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Like labor.”

He didn’t stop.

He went deeper — past her G-spot, past her cervix, until his pubic bone slapped against her clit.

“Full depth,” he murmured, checking a timer. “Seven minutes to full accommodation.”

She sobbed — stretched beyond natural limits — her walls fluttering, trying to reject him.

He pulled out — just the head — then slammed back in.

Harder.

“Say it,” he demanded. “Say what you are.”

“I’m your… size queen!”

“Again!”

“I’m your size queen! I exist to be stretched! To be filled!”

He rewarded her — thrust faster — fucking her with surgical precision.

Each stroke measured.
Each groan documented.
Each gasp archived.

“You love this,” he growled. “Being ruined. Being used as a receptacle.”

“Yes! I want to stay gaped! I want to drip you for days!”

“Then you’ll earn it.”

He pulled out — grabbed the clitoral clamp, attached a thin chain to it, then connected the other end to her nipple clamp.

“Stimulus trial,” he announced. “We test pain-to-orgasm threshold.”

He yanked the chain.

She shattered — screaming, squirting — as the clamp pulled her clit upward, overstimulated.

He didn’t let her ride it.

He inserted two fingers — curled — and scraped her front wall.

“Again,” he ordered.

She came again — violently — her pussy clenching uselessly around air.

He waited — let her recover — then reinserted.

All nine inches.

In one brutal thrust.

She choked — back bowing — eyes rolling.

“Good girl,” he praised, voice thick. “So deep. So full. You were made for this.”

He began to fuck her — not for pleasure.
For study.
For possession.

Each thrust pushed her cervix further, stretched her canal wider. He timed it:

30 strokes: mild dilation
60 strokes: visible gape at rest
90 strokes: involuntary squirting with each impact
“You’re leaking,” he observed. “Amniotic fluid mimicry. Fascinating.”

He came without warning — three thick jets — deep, flooding her.

But he didn’t pull out.

“Remain impaled,” he ordered. “Minimum 20 minutes for tissue memory.”

She nodded — dazed, dripping, wrecked.

He leaned down — kissed her forehead.

“You’ll be sore,” he said softly. “Swollen. Gaping. Every time you walk, you’ll feel me.”

She smiled. “Perfect.”

He stroked her hair. “Next session… we try anal dilation.”

Her breath hitched.

“And if I can’t take it?”

He smiled — cold, rare, devoted.

“Then I’ll make you.”

Chapter Text

The blindfold was velvet-soft, but the darkness pressed. Honey tugged at the scarves – not to escape, but to feel something solid. The earplugs turned the world to muffled static, her own heartbeat the loudest drum.

A warm hand – Xavier’s – slid up her thigh. She jolted.

“Shh,” he murmured, too quiet for her to catch. But she felt his breath on her neck, hot and teasing.

He kissed her collarbone – slow, lingering – then trailed lower. Nipple. Rib. Hip.

Her skin sang in the void.

Then – a spark.

Not pain.

Tingling. Like static from a wool blanket, but deeper. His Light Evol hummed at his fingertips, sending faint electric pulses across her belly.

She arched – gasping – the sensation zipping straight to her core.

“Xavier?” she whispered, voice lost in silence.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he parted her legs – gentle, insistent – and pressed his mouth to her pussy.

His tongue was warm, wet – lapping slow circles around her clit. But with each flick, a tiny shock – his Evol dancing like fireflies, making her nerves buzz.

She moaned – loud in her head, muffled to the world – hips bucking. The electricity built, not burning, but igniting, turning every lick into a live wire.

He sucked her clit – zap – and she came, hard, thighs trembling. Slick gushed, but he didn’t stop.

Fingers – two – slid inside her, curling.

Crackle.

The shocks traveled in, making her walls flutter, clench, spark.

She sobbed – overwhelmed – pulling at the scarves.

Xavier paused – removed the earplugs.

“Too much?” he asked, voice soft, teasing.

“N-No… more,” she panted. “Please.”

He smiled – unseen, but she felt it in his kiss. “Greedy. I like it.”

He blindfolded her tighter – added a soft gag (his sweater sleeve) – then positioned himself between her legs.

His cock – hard, hot – nudged her entrance.

“Ready for the real light?”

She nodded.

He thrust in – slow, deep – filling her inch by inch.

The stretch was exquisite. But then – crackle – his Light pulsed along his length, sending electric tingles through her channel.

She screamed into the gag – body convulsing – as he fucked her with glowing rhythm. Each thrust sparked, making her pussy hum, her nerves dance.

“You feel me?” he whispered, leaning close. “Every inch. Every pulse.”

She nodded – tears under the blindfold – lost in sensation.

He sped up – hips snapping – the electricity building to a crescendo.

“Come with me,” he ordered, voice rough.

One final zap – deep inside – and she shattered, walls milking him.

He groaned – buried to the hilt – and came, hot jets flooding her, mixing with her slick. The creampie was thick, warm, leaking out as he stayed seated, pulsing with aftershocks.

He pulled out slow – let her feel the drip – then removed the blindfold, gag, scarves.

Honey blinked – adjusting to light – and smiled up at him. “You… you’re glowing.”

Xavier chuckled – flushed, boyish – and kissed her forehead. “Only for you.”

He grabbed a warm cloth – cleaned her gently – then curled around her, spooning.

“Next time,” she murmured, “deprive me of touch too. Just the electricity.”

He nuzzled her neck. “Careful. I might fall asleep first.”

She laughed – content – as rain fell outside.

In the void, he was her light.

And she was his spark.

Chapter Text

Caleb crosses the room slowly, gravity rings orbiting like planets. Honey’s pulse spikes – not fear, heat.

"You let him touch you?"

"That’s none of your–"

"Answer." A ring presses under her chin, forcing eye-contact.

"Yes." Her voice cracks.

His pupils blow wide. "Then I’ll overwrite every fingerprint."

He releases the gravity – catches her before she stumbles – and throws her onto the bed. The mirror catches her reflection: wide eyes, scrubs half-torn, thighs clenching.

Caleb strips, never breaking eye-contact with the mirror, not her. "Watch yourself come apart for me, Kitten."

He straddles her, knees pinning her arms. "Stay. Look."

She obeys – gaze fixed on their reflection: him looming, her pinned – a voyeur to her own undoing.

Dub-Con Descent
He rips the scrub top – cold air on her breasts – then palms them roughly. "These remembered his mouth? I’ll make them forget."

He sucks hard, teeth grazing, until she’s arching.

"Tell me you want me," he growls.

"I want you," she sobs – because she does, because the jealousy tastes like fire.

He slides down – yanks her pants off – spreads her legs wide so the mirror shows everything: slick lips, trembling clit, need.

"Pretty picture," he murmurs. "But incomplete."

Golden Marking
He kneels between her thighs, cock heavy against her mound. "I’m going to mark you, Kitten. Inside and out. Then you’ll carry me to work tomorrow – not him."

He lifts her hips – positions himself – then pisses.

A warm arc of gold splashes her belly, trickling down to coat her pussy. She gasps – shocked, turned on – the scent of him overwhelming.

He aims higher – marks her breasts, her throat – until she’s glistening with him.

"You’re mine now," he states, voice rough with possession.

She nods – breathless – thighs slick with him.

Mirror Sex – Possession in Reflection
He thrusts into her – one brutal stroke – and freezes gravity around her hips so she can’t move – can only take him.

Their reflection shows it: his cock stretching her, her face contorted in pleasure-pain, his hands branding her hips.

He fucks her – slow, deep – each thrust hitting her cervix.

"Watch," he orders. "Watch me ruin you for anyone else."

She watches – mesmerized – as he pounds her, gravity rings spinning faster, her breasts bouncing, his muscles flexing.

She comes screaming – walls clenching around him – and he roars, emptying inside her: hot, thick, claiming.

The mirror catches it all: her convulsions, his cum flooding her, the moment her body surrenders.

After-Care in the Mirror’s Gaze
He releases gravity – cradles her – wipes the golden streaks with his sweater.

"Did I hurt you?" he whispers, voice back to warm-cocoa.

She shakes her head – nuzzles his chest. "You marked me. I liked it."

He kisses her forehead. "I was jealous. I’m sorry."

"Don’t be," she murmurs. "Just ask next time. I’ll always say yes to you."

In the mirror, they watch themselves: tangled, marked, his.

The photo of Zayne is face-down now.

Caleb’s reflection smiles – soft, possessive.

"Next time," he says, "we’ll do it in his apartment. So he can smell me on you when he gets home."

She laughs – breathless – and kisses him again.

In the glass, they glow – two silhouettes, one heartbeat, no space between.

Chapter Text

Sylus circled her — wings casting raptor shadows — boots crunching broken glass.

"Strip." His voice cracked between human and something ancient.

Honey obeyed — slow, deliberate — letting her hunter’s coat fall. Her skin prickled under his gaze.

He sniffed the air. "Fear. Arousal. Delicious."

She dropped to her knees. "I’m yours, Crow."

A low croak — approval — then he shoved her forward, bending her over a fallen pew.

"Present."

She spread her legs — ass high — pussy already glistening.

He knelt behind her — clawed gloves tracing her spine, leaving thin red lines.

Then his mouth — human lips, but too hot — descended on her asshole.

He rimmed her — slow, feral — tongue flicking, circling, probing. Each lick sent sparks up her spine.

She moaned — muffled against wood — as he growled into her, vibrations making her clench.

"Sweet little hunter. Even your hole tastes like prey."

He sucked — hard — then bit the rim gently.

She yelped — pain-pleasure mixing — as he pushed his tongue inside, fucking her ass with it.

When he pulled back, feathers — black, soft — were clenched in his teeth.

He shoved three into her ass — one by one — the barbs brushing her walls.

"You’ll carry me inside now."

She whimpered — full, invaded — but pushed back, begging for more.

He stood — claws tearing his pants — revealing his cock: thick, veined, crowned with tiny feather-like barbs that fluttered when hard.

"Monster enough for you, Kitten?"

She nodded — drooling — as he slammed into her pussy without warning.

No warm-up.
No mercy.
Just beast.

He fucked her — brutal, wing-beats echoing — each thrust light-burning her skin with tiny sparks.

"Count the feathers," he ordered, pinching her clit.

"One! Two! Three!" she sobbed, feathers shifting inside her with every impact.

He flared his wings — shadows engulfing — and bit her neck, breaking skin.

Blood dripped — he licked it, humming.

"Tastes like submission."

Then — his hand — glowing with red Light — pressed to her lower back.

"Forced orgasm time."

The Light surged — not painful, overwhelming — flooding her nerves with forced pleasure.

She screamed — body convulsing — as the energy made her come without touch.

Again.
And again.
And again.

Her pussy fluttered — clenching his cock — milking him as she squirted across the pew.

He roared — wings arching — and came, hot jets flooding her, mixing with her slick.

When he pulled out, cum and feathers dripped down her thighs — messy, beautiful.

He licked her clean — slow, devoted — then pulled the feathers from her ass with his teeth.

She collapsed — trembling — as he wrapped his wings around her, preening her hair.

"Good Kitten," he croaked, voice softening. "My favorite hunt."

She nuzzled his neck — human again — and whispered:

"Next time… let me fly with you."

He smiled — sharp teeth glinting.

"Only if you let me devour you again."

Chapter Text

The pistol’s muzzle was cold – not metal, but black ice – a shard of Dawnbreaker’s own making. It pressed between Honey’s shoulder blades as she crawled, knees scraping frost, wrists shackled behind her.

No words.

Only the crunch of frost beneath her palms.
Only the hiss of his breath.
Only the drip of her slick on frozen concrete.

She reached the designated spot – a half-collapsed bus stop, its roof draped in ash-snow.

Dawnbreaker nudged the pistol – push.

She stopped.

He knelt – grabbed her hair – forced her face to the ground.

Quiet.

Always quiet.

Because in this timeline, sound draws Wanderers.

He unzipped – cock hard, frost-kissed, pulsing with need. No preamble. No gentleness.

Just need.

He yanked her hips up – ripped her pants – and thrust in.

Silent.

Her scream was swallowed by the gag of his glove.

He fucked her – slow, deliberate – each stroke pushing her forward on hands and knees.

The pistol remained pressed to her spine – a promise.

One sound. One mistake. One moan too loud…

Bang.

But she took it.

Took *him.

Took the stretch, the burn, the ice-cold shaft that warmed inside her.

He leaned close – teeth at her ear.

"Crawl," he breathed – so soft it was wind.

She did.

Crawled while he fucked her – moving them both across the frost, his hips snapping, her knees bleeding.

The anal hook (black ice, curved like a question mark) appeared in his hand – pressed to her asshole.

No warning.

No lube.

Just pressure.

He pushed – slow, relentless – until the hook settled inside her, chain connected to her shackles.

Now, every thrust tugged the hook – stretching her rim, arching her spine.

She whimpered – muffled – as he picked up speed.

The pistol shook against her spine – his grip tightening.

Closer. Closer.

He came – silently – hot jets flooding her, mixing with the cold, a creampie that steamed in the frost.

He stayed seated – pulsing – until every drop was absorbed.

Then – click – the pistol cocked.

She froze.

He leaned down – kissed her temple.

"Dream over," he whispered.

He pulled the trigger.

Click.

No bullet.

Just ice – shattering into her skin, marking her like a brand.

He removed the hook – gently – kissed the sore rim.

She collapsed – shivering, filled, owned.

He lifted her – cradled her – and carried her to a frozen bench.

Sat.

Held her.

No words.

Just the sound of her breathing.

Just the drip of his cum.

Just the crack of black ice as it melted against her skin.

Because in this timeline, love is quiet.
Mercy is merciless.
And crawling is how you survive.

Chapter Text

"Hold still,” Zayne ordered, squeezing lube onto his gloved finger. He pressed it to her asshole – slow, circling – then slid inside.

Honey gasped, clenching. “C-Cold…”

“Warm it with your body,” he murmured, adding a second finger. “You’re so tight here. So dirty. But you’ll be perfect for me soon.”

She moaned as he scissored, stretching her rim. The enema bag loomed – 2 liters of solution waiting to flood her.

He withdrew – attached the tube to the bag – and positioned the nozzle. “Deep breath. Then relax.”

She inhaled – exhaled – and he pushed in.

The tip breached her – smooth, insistent – sliding deep into her rectum.

“Good girl,” he praised, voice thick. “Taking it so well. My obedient little patient.”

Warmth flooded her – the saline rushing in, filling her bowels with pressure. She whimpered, belly swelling slightly, the sensation full, vulnerous.

“Hold it,” he commanded, clamping the tube. “Ten minutes. Feel how empty you were. How I’m making you clean for my cock.”

She nodded – biting her lip – as cramps built, pleasure twisting with discomfort. Zayne knelt behind her – bit her inner thigh, hard enough to bruise.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he growled against her skin. “Kneeling. Stuffed. Mine to purge and claim.”

The bite stung – sharp, possessive – sending sparks to her clit.

“P-Please…”

“Please what?” He bit her other thigh – deeper – sucking the mark. “Tell me, good girl.”

“More… praise me…”

He unclasped the tube – let a trickle escape – then reclamped. “You’re doing so well. So strong. Holding my gift inside you. You deserve to be filled forever.”

She sobbed – the pressure peaking – arousal dripping down her thighs.

“Time,” he said, voice clinical. “Release.”

He guided her over the tub – nozzle still in – and unclamped fully.

The rush was humiliating – hot, endless – her body emptying in waves. She cried out, shaking, as he stroked her back.

“That’s it,” he praised. “Let it all out. You’re so brave. So perfect for me.”

Empty now – craving – she looked back. “Zayne… I need you.”

He stripped – cock springing free, thick and leaking. “On the bed. Ass up. Show me your clean hole.”

She obeyed – presenting herself on the sheets.

He bit her shoulder – hard – as he thrust into her pussy first. “Good girl. So wet. So ready.”

She moaned – walls clenching – as he fucked her deep, bites trailing her neck, her breasts when he flipped her.

“You take me so beautifully,” he groaned, nipping her nipple. “My perfect, praised slut.”

He pulled out – slick with her juices – and pressed to her ass.

“Relax,” he whispered, biting her earlobe. “You’re made for this. My good, filthy girl.”

He pushed in – slow, burning stretch – filling her completely.

She screamed – pleasure-pain – as he bottomed out.

He fucked her ass – relentless, deep – praises spilling: “So tight. So obedient. You’re everything I need.”

Her hand found her clit – rubbing frantic – as the bites marked her like a map.

“Come for me,” he ordered, biting her neck. “Show me how much you love being mine.”

She shattered – ass pulsing around him – sobbing his name.

He followed – groaning – and came, huge loads flooding her bowels, hot and thick, spilling out as he thrust through it.

“Feel that?” he panted, biting her shoulder softly. “My seed. Cleaning you from the inside.”

She nodded – spent, marked, full.

He pulled out – cum leaking – and held her close. “You were perfect, Honey. So strong. I love you like this. Always.”

She smiled – bruised, blissful. “Again… tomorrow?”

He chuckled. “Only if you beg like the good girl you are.”

Chapter Text

Honey’s hand flew to her pistol – too late.

A gloved fist slammed into her wrist, sending the weapon skittering into the gloom. She spun – kicked – but he was fast, catching her ankle and yanking her off-balance.

She hit the wet ground hard – breath knocked out – scrambling back against a crate.

“Who the fuck are you?” she snarled, drawing her sword.

The man loomed – 6'4" of shadowed muscle, voice a low rasp like gravel under boots. “Your shadow. The one who watches when they don’t.”

He lunged – faster than light – pinning her sword arm with his knee. His other hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her curse.

She bit – hard – tasting leather and salt.

He laughed – dark, intimate. “Feisty hunter. But you’re mine now.”

He ripped a strip from her torn jacket – thick fabric – and shoved it between her teeth, tying it tight behind her head. The gag bit into her cheeks, turning her protests to muffled grunts.

She thrashed – knees driving up – but he straddled her hips, weight crushing. His free hand tore at her pants – zipper shredding – exposing her ass to the cold air.

“No!” she screamed into the cloth, voice garbled, tears of rage stinging her eyes.

“Yes,” he hissed, fingers digging into her cheeks, spreading her. “You’ve been teasing the dark too long, Kisaragi. Time to pay.”

He spat – crude, wet – onto her hole, rubbing it in with rough circles. No lube. No mercy. Just him.

She bucked – wild, desperate – but he pinned her harder, cloak falling over them like a shroud.

His cock – thick, hot, unyielding – pressed against her rim.

“Fight all you want,” he murmured, breath hot on her neck. “It makes you tighter.”

He thrust – brutal, unprepared – forcing the head past her resistance.

She howled into the gag – pain exploding, white-hot – her body clenching in futile protest. Inch by burning inch, he sank deeper, stretching her beyond limits, walls screaming.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, pausing to savor her spasms. “Like you were made for this. For me.”

Tears soaked the blindfold of fabric. She clawed at his arms – nails breaking on leather – but he laughed, pulling her hair to arch her back.

“Take it, hunter. Take your shadow’s cock.”

He began to move – slow at first, dragging out, then slamming in – each thrust ripping a muffled sob from her throat. The alley echoed with wet slaps, her body betraying her with slick despite the agony.

Deeper. Harder. His hips ground against her ass, balls slapping her pussy.

“You love it,” he taunted, hand snaking around to pinch her clit. “Your body’s weeping for more.”

She shook her head – furious, humiliated – but the pressure built, unwanted, coiling low.

He felt it – sped up – pounding her ass like a claim. “Come on my cock, Kisaragi. Show me you’re broken.”

The orgasm hit – traitorous, shattering – her walls milking him as she screamed into the gag, vision blurring.

He roared – buried deep – and came, hot jets flooding her ass, thick and endless, spilling out around his girth.

He stayed – pulsing – marking her from the inside.

Then pulled out – slow, deliberate – letting his cum drip down her thighs.

The gag slipped free as he stood – shadow retreating.

“Until next time,” he whispered, voice echoing. “You’re mine now, Honey. In the light… or the dark.”

She collapsed – gasping, leaking, ruined – as his footsteps faded into the fog.

Who was he?

The 6th.

Her shadow.

And he’d return.

Chapter Text

"Look at you," Rafayel purred, circling the pillory like a shark. "Our little masterpiece. Bent and begging for the brush."

Honey tugged at the stocks – not to escape, but to feel the wood bite. "You two are enjoying this too much."

Xavier chuckled from the front – low, sleepy – his fingers tracing her jaw through the restraint. "We’re just… appreciating the view." His light Evol sparked gently against her lips – a tingle, not a shock. "Open."

She did – tongue flicking out – and he fed her two fingers, slow and deep.

Rafayel smirked. "My turn." He stepped behind – palm cracking against her ass. Slap!

She yelped – the sting blooming hot.

"Count," Xavier ordered softly, thrusting his fingers in rhythm. "Or we stop."

"One!" she gasped.

Slap! – harder, paddle this time.

"Two!"

Rafayel rubbed the reddening skin – soothing, then spanking again. "Such a pretty flush. Like sunset on waves."

Xavier pulled his fingers free – unzipped – and guided his cock to her mouth. "Suck while he paints you."

She took him – hollowing cheeks, moaning around his length – as Rafayel’s paddle fell. Thwack! Thwack! – alternating cheeks, building heat.

"Five! Six!"

Her ass burned – thighs trembling – slick dripping down her legs.

Rafayel paused – traced her folds. "Dripping already? Greedy canvas."

He fetched a soft flogger – suede tails – and whipped lightly across her back, then harder on her thighs.

"Eight! Nine!"

Xavier groaned – hips bucking gently into her mouth. "She’s perfect. So eager."

"Ten!" Honey cried, pulling off. "Please… more."

Rafayel grinned – feral, artistic. "Double the strokes?"

Xavier nodded – light Evol glowing brighter. "For her."

They switched: Xavier behind, Rafayel in front.

Xavier’s hand cracked – palm on flesh – while Rafayel’s flogger danced across her breasts through the stocks.

"Fifteen! Sixteen!"

Her body sang – pain twisting to pleasure – pussy clenching empty.

"Enough," she begged. "Fill me."

Rafayel unlocked the pillory – just enough to reposition her on a padded bench beneath, still restrained but ass up, legs spread.

Xavier knelt first – slicked his cock – and thrust into her pussy. Deep.

She moaned – full, stretched – as Rafayel positioned behind.

"Relax, kitten," Xavier whispered, stroking her back. "We’ve got you."

Rafayel pushed in – slow, burning – filling her ass.

Double penetration.

She screamed – so full, so claimed – body shaking as they synced. Xavier gentle, rhythmic; Rafayel teasing, twisting.

"Harder," she demanded.

Rafayel spanked her ass – mid-thrust – while Xavier’s hand cracked her thigh.

"Yes! Like that!"

They pounded – relentless – Xavier’s light sparking tingles along her walls, Rafayel’s fire Evol warming his cock like heated silk.

She came first – shattering – walls milking them.

Xavier followed – groaning, flooding her pussy with hot cum.

Rafayel last – growling, pumping deep into her ass.

They stayed – locked, leaking – creampies mixing, dripping messy down her thighs.

Rafayel pulled out first – dipped a finger in the slick – and painted a seashell on her back.

"Art," he murmured.

Xavier kissed her neck – freed her wrists. "Beautiful."

They cuddled her between them – ocean waves lulling – wiping her clean with warm cloths.

"Again?" Honey teased, sore but sated.

Xavier yawned. "After a nap."

Rafayel laughed. "Only if I get to stock you next time."

She smiled.

Locked in their love.

Chapter Text

"You built this thing to look like you," Honey purred, trailing a finger down the robot's chest plate. "But does it fuck like you, Colonel? Or is it... better?"

Caleb strained against the cuffs – his Gravity Evol humming, but suppressed by the dampeners he'd installed for this game. "Pips... don't. It's not funny."

She smirked – turning to face him, lingerie hugging her curves, nipples hard against the lace. "Oh, but it is. You wanted to see how possessive you really are. So watch."

She activated the robot with a palm scan – her handprint authorized by him, weeks ago. It whirred to life, red eyes glowing like his, cock attachment extending – thick, veined, programmed to mimic his girth.

The robot stepped forward – mechanical hands gripping her waist – and kissed her neck. Cold. Precise.

Honey moaned – exaggerated, teasing – arching into it. "Mmm... feels so good. No emotions. Just use."

Caleb growled – low, feral – his mechanical arm flexing, metal fingers curling. "Turn it off. Now."

"No." She dropped to her knees – right in front of him – and took the robot's cock in her mouth. Sucked slow, sloppy, eyes locked on Caleb's. "Watch me swallow your copy."

The robot's hand tangled in her ponytail – thrusting gently, programmed for her pleasure. Saliva dripped down her chin, smearing the lingerie.

Caleb's breath hitched – cock straining against his pants. "You're mine, Pips. That thing can't—"

"Can't what?" She pulled off – strings of spit connecting her lips to the silicone. "Can't make me come like you do? Let's test it."

She pushed the robot onto the bed – straddled it – and sank down on the attachment. Inch by inch, her pussy stretched around it, lingerie garters snapping taut.

"Oh fuck," she gasped, riding hard. "It's so... consistent. No mercy. Just pounding."

The robot's hips bucked – mechanical precision hitting her G-spot every time. She bounced – tits spilling from the bra, lace tearing slightly.

Caleb thrashed – chair creaking. "Enough! I'll break these cuffs and—"

"And what? Punish me?" She laughed – breathless – grinding deeper. "Watch me come on your robot first."

She did – screaming, walls clenching – slick gushing over the attachment. The robot didn't stop – kept thrusting through her aftershocks.

"See?" she panted, dismounting. Cum-slick thighs gleaming. "It filled me with lube. But it's not you."

She crawled to Caleb – on all fours, lingerie disheveled – and unzipped him. His cock sprang free – real, hot, throbbing.

"Your turn to reclaim," she whispered, stroking him. "Fuck the mess out of me."

The cuffs snapped – his Gravity Evol overriding the dampeners in a surge. He lunged – flipping her onto the bed, ripping the lingerie aside.

"You're a brat," he growled, slamming into her. The robot's lube made it slick, messy – his thrusts squelching.

"Yes!" she cried, legs wrapping around him. "Bigger than your toy! Deeper!"

He pounded – brutal, possessive – mechanical arm pinning her wrists above her head, fingers digging in just enough to bruise.

"Mine," he snarled. "No robots. No one else. Only me."

He came – roaring – flooding her with hot, thick jets, mixing with the lube, overflowing down her thighs.

She followed – clenching, milking him – lingerie in tatters.

After, he deactivated the robot with a glare – then pulled her close, mechanical arm gentle now, stroking her hair.

"Never again," he murmured.

She smiled – kissing his jaw. "Liar. You loved watching."

He flushed – rare vulnerability. "Maybe. But next time... I build it to watch us."