ardently-verdandi

[ardently-verdandi]

ZAYNE LI (my ride is here!!)

[ardently-verdandi]

where all the worlds begin | snowcrow x you

sum: you wanted to take them out for a change. cw: tooth-rotting fluff, mild language, gendered terms, brief alcohol mention, snowcrow being ridiculously sweet, disgustingly romantic & self-indulgent, i took out the part that got steamy, 2k wc, shaking off the writer’s block recommended listening: la vie en rose - aoi teshima

You don’t know why you’re so nervous. You’ve seen each other naked. Watched each other bleed. Wiped one another’s (read: your) tears.

This? 

This is nothing. 

Still, your impromptu pep talk doesn’t make the gnarl in your stomach any more bearable. 

After pacing the gleaming floor of the hallway just beyond Sylus’ study, you finally slip inside, deciding to don your big girl pants. 

Two sets of eyes greet you when the door hisses shut. Your body vibrates with cold fright, and you press yourself against the ornate wood to calm your rabbiting pulse. 

Zayne is hunched over Sylus’ desk, quietly appraising you from behind his glasses. Sylus, seated in his leather chair, regards you with that typical amusement as if he’s gleaned through your thoughts. 

You bypass a greeting. Gods know you’re beyond formalities. Clearing your throat after a steadying breath in, you lean against the doorframe, opting for calm, praying your voice doesn’t waver. 

“You guys wanna…go out?”

Zayne’s brows knit quizzically. One corner of Sylus’ lips twitches up.

Straightening in his chair, Sylus is thankfully the first to snap the awkward silence. “Out? As in a date?”

You nod, pulling at your fingertips, feeling small and foolish beneath their scrutiny. Maybe you weren’t ready for this. 

While you’re busy studying the scuff on your shoe, Zayne chimes in. “You want to take us out?” he queries in that even tone. Humor curdles beneath. “That’s…new.”

You scoff, looking between them. Way to make you feel even more ridiculous. “Well, try not to sound so enthusiastic about it.” 

You get it. Typically, they’re the ones orchestrating your outings. Inviting you to indulge in lavish things. Initiating. So what if you want to do something different for a change? Take them out? Spoil them instead if the other way around?

Zayne stands to full height, crossing his arms over a virile chest. He taps his bicep, the faint, upward arc of his lips unmissable in the jaundiced hue of Sylus’ study. 

“I’m not saying I’m opposed to it. It’s just an…interesting turn of events.”

The leather of Sylus’ chair squeaks, followed by a laugh reminiscent of a low-purring engine. You watch Sylus lean back, tapping his bottom lip in deliberation. He intends to murder you with the suspense of a response, yet he does a terrible job shielding his mirth behind his hand.

“She wants to spoil us for a change, Zayne. What do you think? Should we check her for a fever?”

You glower when Zayne stifles a chuckle into his fist, disguising it as a cough.

Pushing off the doorframe, you near the desk, arms folded, eyes narrowed. “Ya know, if you’re gonna be dicks about it, I’ll rescind my invite.”

Zayne’s entertained gaze slides from Sylus to you. It softens along with the round of his lips. “I have no qualms about it.”

The tension between your shoulders loosens the slightest bit. Leave it to Zayne to shift the air into something more bearable. You would kiss him if your nerves weren’t firing off like solar flares beneath your skin in anticipation of what your other half might say.

You watch Sylus expectantly as he sits up, sighing theatrically, slapping his thighs like you’re holding him at gunpoint. He loves to give you shit—they both do. Yet, Sylus is always the one to prolong your suffering. 

“Well, if the good doctor here agrees to your terms, then I suppose I have no choice but to accept, too.” He pitches forward with his elbows on the desk, fingertips pressed together, as if he’s taking part in a steep negotiation.  

Rolling your eyes, you can’t disguise the upward tick of your lips. 

“Now, where are we off to?” Sylus prods, slowly rising from his seat and shoving his hands into his pockets, standing in that lax slouch. 

Zayne quirks a brow at you, equally curious.

You anticipated this. Hell, you half-expected Sylus to parse through the layers of your poker face to take a conveniently spot-on guess at what you have planned. 

It’s your turn to drag the knife of suspense across smooth skin. 

Pressing your index finger to your lips and winking, you murmur, “It’s a secret,” before skipping out of Sylus’ office, your maniacal cackle reverberating off grandiose walls. 

Your perplexed lovers watch you retreat before eyeing each other with varying degrees of amusement and exchanging a shrug. 

—

For days, you prep. Painstaking. Secretive. All until the night of your grand scheme. 

You pack their favorite snacks into a basket—an amalgamation of sweet, salty, and sour. Stuff a case of beers into a mini cooler filled with ice. Procured a nice bottle of Scotch for Zayne, an expensive dry red for Sylus. Anything to make the night more comfortable for your favorite duo.

Packing the bed of your truck with an air mattress, you layer it with way too many pillows and blankets. So many, you struggle to close the cover. 

It’s cozy. Maybe not plush like the king-sized sprawl of a bed in a luxury hotel, courtesy of Sylus. But it’s something to make what you have in store that much more endearing.

You told them to dress comfortably for the evening. No need for tailored waistcoats or expensive shoes. 

It’s comical, watching Sylus and Zayne walk into your apartment in what they deem “casual.” Ah well. At least they tried to humor you. 

The three of you load into your truck, Sylus in the passenger’s seat, Zayne behind you. They fill the drive with idle chatter and music, not asking questions until the glaring pulse of the city lights fades in the rearview.

“Are you planning to kill us?” Sylus teases, a hand on your thigh, burning through your denim. 

You give him a flat look over the soft blue of the dashboard, fingers tight on the steering wheel. “Of course not.”

His responding grin is impish to match the twitch of Zayne’s lips in the mirror.

“With our combined strength, we could easily subdue her,” Zayne adds from the backseat.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t blame them for being curious. You’ve been driving for nearly an hour, not giving them an inkling of where you’re taking them.

Eventually, you trade the seemingly endless darkness for the yawning maw of a canyon. It stretches towards a violet canvas littered with stars reminiscent of spilled milk. The dusty band of the Milky Way powders the sky on the horizon. It’s a scene out of a movie. A well-timed shot in a science magazine. 

You pull the truck onto a flat overlook and kill the engine. Eyeing them with an omniscient grin, you hop out, kicking up moon dust and stirring loose gravel. 

They trade wary yet entertained looks before unbuckling their seatbelts and joining you in the back.

With a flourish of your fingers, you reveal your project—the truck bed transformed into a comfortable nest beneath the stars. A standing tray housing the snacks, wine, Scotch, and cooler sits in the center of your cozy chaos. 

For a moment, their silence discourages you. You think you’ve mucked up, dragging them away from the city for something languid and modest.

The awestruck gleam in Zayne’s eyes as he ingests the scenery sends a warm thrill down your spine. His earthy gaze falls on you, earnest, stripped of its usual cold detachment. 

“Did you do all of this for us?” 

After taking in the setup, Sylus studies you, too, lips slightly parting as his eyes gleam a luminous red beneath the moonlight. Almost like the idea of you organizing something so plain has pilfered the air from his lungs.

You press your index fingers together, nodding sheepishly. “Do you…like it?”

It might be simple. May not be a fancy restaurant with menu items you can't pronounce. And maybe it’s not a private tour on a yacht worth more than your annual salary. But it’s a break from what’s typical. Your attempt at giving your two loves a glimpse into your mind. Your vices. 

You feel vulnerable beneath their perusal. Study your sneaker twisting in the sand until a large hand falls onto the crown of your head, affectionately tousling your hair. 

Sylus peers down at you with a youthful shine to his eyes, lips rucked up into something soft and unhindered. Zayne drops a hand onto your shoulder, squeezing it with reassurance.

“It’s beautiful,” Zayne whispers, voice tapering with emotion. 

Warmth blossoms in your chest. A slow smile takes possession of your lips. You didn’t do too bad, now did you?

They take either of your hands, guiding you onto the truck bed. Zayne crowds in beside you, cross-legged, still donning that smile that rivals the nebulous halo of the stars overhead. 

Sylus lingers just beyond, his riotous white hair dancing in a breeze as if he’s searching the cosmos for all its secrets. He joins you soon after, sitting across your makeshift table at the truck’s tail.

—

The conglomerate of sounds played by distant wildlife fills the valley below, accompanied by the soft croon of tunes leaking from the speakers of your truck. 

You’ve had a beer or two. Zayne’s peach-faced from the burn of the Scotch gleaming in the canteen cup you gave him. Sylus wears half-mast eyes, swirling the scarlet contents of his wine bulb you poured earlier. 

They’re both smiling. Haven’t stopped since you brought them out and invited them into your tiny slice of sanctuary.

You’re housed between them, shoulder to shoulder, swaddled by hypnotizing heat, your shoes discarded and legs tangled together. It’s a tight fit—they’re uncommonly large, yet they bear the discomfort to indulge you.

Soft sherpa swaths your body. The Earth is a boundless sprawl of stars above, so voidless and vast, you could fall into it if gravity didn’t tether you to the ground. 

Blinking sheepishly, you direct your boyfriends’ attention to the sky with your finger, your voice scant above a whisper. 

“Give it a sec. Something cool’s about to happen.”

They cram close until their heads rest on either side of yours, already committing the patchwork of constellations to memory. 

As if timed by your instruction, the first streak cuts through the sky in a brilliant flash. So brusque, you could miss it with a blink.

With childlike glee, you point again to a different patch of sky, another flash soaring across the firmament. Another joins it. And another. One more before the world suddenly erupts with stunning veins of white like rain trailing down a windowpane.

One by one, meteors burn arcs through the mesosphere, winking out of existence as quickly as they spawn. 

So caught up in the beauty of the meteor shower, you hardly register Sylus pulling you into his side, your head falling onto the rigid pane of his chest. Barely notice Zayne curling up behind, his chin notched into your shoulder, his voice vibrating your spine. 

“Who knew you were such a romantic?” he mocks, chuckling when you elbow him in his ribs.

Sylus weaves his fingers in your hair, his heartbeat mollifying beneath your cheek. 

Warmth envelops you, spreading outward from your chest like coronal ejections spuming from the sun. A product not only of the blankets piled over your bodies and the booze coloring your veins. But a consequence of your loves surrounding you, their hands subtly seeking yours out. 

You bask in the soundlessness and the sky splitting itself open overhead, smiling so wide, your cheeks ache, a hot film of wetness blurring your periphery. An expensive hotel suite could never compete with this. No grand tier seats at a play, nor luxurious dining on a rooftop. 

Wrapped intimately between your lovers, their hold feels as infinite as the galaxy spread overhead.  

[ardently-verdandi]

Read somewhere that if you like Sylus and Zayne, you probably had and emotionally absent father, and I—

[ardently-verdandi]

Wet Zayne 💦

[ardently-verdandi]

clingy caleb ✨🍎

[ardently-verdandi]

im in an extremely difficult situation right now. ill get straight to my point. i got my college acceptance letter yesterday but i cant afford my admission fee right now. and to even land a scholarship, i need to confirm my seat and pay $680 for the admission fee and stuff. but as it is, i dont have it. right now i literally only have about $47. i used to collect antique coins which im thinking of selling. but it wont be enough. im very desperate right now and i think the only thing that can further ease my situation is by selling my LADS account.

i honestly cant believe im willing to do this. so if you or anyone you know is looking for an account to buy please let me know.

i have: 1 rename card, 5 birthday edit passes, 1 evol appearance reset card, 4 awakening hearts SSR, 1 awakening heart SR. lots of those shards to upgrade memories. and lotsss of protocores.

its not a lot, but honestly im just so desperate right now.

i know it sounds very stupid but i wish even if for a fleeting moment, they were real.

[ardently-verdandi]

commission from @its-toofuu

[ardently-verdandi]

i had a dream about 2025 clark kent playing with the mjolnir, tossing it with one hand, spinning it upside down on his finger like a basketball 😭

and then thor entered with a silly grin, holding a newspaper with clark’s article on the front page, used it to playfully hit clark in the head, and placed an arm around clark’s shoulder.

then they started to play catch⁉️ using the mjolnir‼️ in the middle of the kent farm 😭 and they were laughing and having so much fun like they were actual brothers 😔

[ardently-verdandi]

this is so UNFAIR.

[ardently-verdandi]

"One last kiss before you go?"

Coffee in the air, his tie still crooked from her hands, her hair smelling like him. It's just a Tuesday, but love still lingers in this moment.

[ardently-verdandi]

the cat's name was galen but i renamed him to Paracetamol

[ardently-verdandi]

off the grid | sylus

summary: his chest swells with emotion. there’s this gnawing feeling in his gut telling him not to leave. that he belongs at your side for the rest of the day, drawing little sighs of his name from your mouth. “fuck the deal,” he husks with pinched brows, dipping down for a taste of your honeydew lips. warning(s): female anatomy described, cunnilingus, bodily fluids, p-in-v intercourse, mating press, unprotected sex, explicit language now playing: fire - sir notes: thank you so much for reading!

He says he has some business to attend to.

Ever the businessman on the move, even while on vacation.

You don’t pose much of an argument. Offer a slight pout, clawing at the side of the king-sized bed where his body’s residual heat and indentation still reside. But you’re surprisingly docile. Trusting, knowing he always comes back to you in one piece.

Sylus promises he won’t be long, locking eyes with your reflection in the mirror. Finishes buttoning his shirt, straightening his collar, and fussing with his cufflinks. He turns with a hand stuffed in his pocket to fully appreciate the view on the bed. And what a pretty picture you pose.

You’re quiet, playing on your phone. Have the gall to be so gorgeous in the calm glow of the sun, hair fanned around you on the pillows like a halo, breasts swelling in his dress shirt. Thighs thick as honey, legs splayed open and inviting on the ivory sheets.

His fingers twitch with the need to touch as something primal stirs in his belly, mouth filling with sand.

You catch his gaze over your phone. Offer a demure smile and a wave before returning to whatever’s got you so enraptured.

His chest swells with emotion. There’s this gnawing feeling telling him not to leave. Telling him he belongs at your side for the rest of the day, drawing little sighs of his name from your mouth, mapping out the contours of your body until the moon sits high in the sky.

It isn’t often he gets to sweep you away like this. Has you tucked all safe in a beautiful bungalow on an island far away, the air dense with salt and the idle crash of ocean waves enmeshed with the soothing cry of distant seabirds.

He scoffs inwardly. Wonders when you made him such a clingy mess as he studies his feet. Shakes his head, sheepishly rubbing the nape of his neck while losing that internal battle with himself.

He leans against the dresser with crossed arms, pondering how long he can stave off this deal he’s worked so hard to orchestrate. And yet—

You giggle, tickled pink by a video on your socials. The sound of it makes his heart pull. Makes his lips crook with a smile. He pads towards you without thinking, wrapping a tender hand around your ankle. Smooths his thumb over the jut of bone with such reverence, watching you with all the fondness of the world. His cute little kitten.

Goddammit.

Sighing, he resigns himself to his fate. Glances off to the side as if the beach beyond the window can offer some sort of solution. An out. He circles back, foolish to think he could resist you.

The twins can manage this, he muses. And suddenly, he’s pulling free the buttons he so carefully fastened on his shirt. Climbing over you like a panther onto the bed, bracketing you between lean muscle and heat.

“Fuck the deal,” he husks with pinched brows, dipping down for a taste of your lips.

You squeak, but the surprise soon peters as you wrap gentle hands about his wrists, your phone on the floor long forgotten. He hums all throaty, smiling against your lips. Kisses honey-slow, committing the texture of your lips to memory whilst easing your hands over your head, twining your fingers together. Pushes a knee between your thighs to encourage them further apart, and the heat of your muff radiates up his quad, burning through the material of his slacks.

He’s glad he stayed. Couldn’t live with himself if he left you like this, all hot and pliant, wasting away in bed. You deserve to be worshipped, savored, devoured.

You melt into the kiss. Keen all pretty for him, arms instinctively snaking about his shoulders, and he swallows the intoxicating sounds you make. Chuckles low and alluring, notching his hips to yours, anchoring you to the bed with his weight half on you.

“Thought it was—oh��important,” you breathe when he breaks away with a soft smack to brand your neck with the heat of his lips. “Your deal.”

Who can think about work when you have the audacity to smell this good? Like night-blooming jasmines and everything inherently safe.

“Was,” Sylus parrots on a deep rasp, mouth on an unhurried excursion over your throat, and your laughter is bewitching. Heady, transitioning into a pleasured exhale when his teeth graze your carotid.

He shackles your wrists together beneath one hand, freeing up his other. And it’s dangerous, skating over the pucker of your nipples, the swell of your tits. Coasting over the ripples of your ribcage, making your body vibrate and curve with excitement.

“Nothing outweighs this.”

He drives his point home, knuckles trailing down your belly, down, down, down to the swell of your pubic bone. You arch, and he bows into you when his palm closes around your muff. And he’s open-mouthed on your neck, sighing hot, his dick heavy and throbbing against the inner curve of your thigh.

Two fingers curl inward, teasing the seam of your cunt. Circling in the way you like until the lewd squelch of your pussy kisses the air. You bite your lip. Head falls back against the pillows, and you do that endearing sad puppy thing with your brows. He admires the sight of you through parted lips and lidded eyes, wondering how he could ever think of leaving you alone.   

You’re so pretty like this. So perfect, your lips kiss-swollen and shiny, formed around a whine. You arch so nicely for him as his fingers play between your legs, stroking you until you’re nice and wet. Swollen and pulsing, outer labia spilling over the seat of your panties.

He’s wasted enough time, he thinks, your earthy scent overpowering his senses. He frees your wrists, easing down your body and between your legs in favor of something more appealing. More appetizing. The crooks of your knees find his shoulders. And he’s enamored by how the fat of your thighs crater between his fingers when he holds them apart, slightly hauling your hips up to fasten your thighs to his shoulders.

He licks up the span of your cunt, tasting you through the cotton of your panties. Growls something distant and abrasive, gaze flicking to yours through the headiness. His pupils blow wide, and his heart pounds a war cadence in his skull.

You’re a dream he doesn’t want to ever wake from. A spell that’s bound him to earth, but he doesn’t think he would ever want to leave.

His irises burn like the flicker of a flame. And he doesn’t look away as you ruck your hips up against his tongue, chasing that sparkling edge pooling in your stomach.

You thread your fingers in his riotous hair, guiding him into a choppy rhythm against you, your hips stuttering each time his tongue agitates your clit. He doesn’t fight it. Loves it when you take control, when you take your pleasure. Use him like the docile toy he is, fucking his mouth until he’s red-faced and panting.

He steadies you, briefly taking his eyes off you to drag your panties to one side. His mouth waters at the sight, and he sucks in a ragged breath. Your pussy is all sticky and puckering; gossamer strings of your nectar spread like dew-speckled spider spins between your lips and panties.

He splits you nice and open on two fingers. Spread like a flower bending towards the sun. His gaze finds yours once more before he dives in, working your pretty pussy with a wide and sweltering tongue.

You’re scrambling for purchase of the sheets, keening all nice for him. Rock your hips in tandem with the glacial pace of his tongue, and he reaches out to tangle your fingers together at your sides to anchor you.

You’re so cute; it makes his chest pull. Makes his heart all fluttery, and he’s a flushed, sloppy disaster beneath you. All for you. Just for you.

He ruts against the sheets as he feasts. Grunts into your pussy, not caring that he looks unhinged or that his pants are stained dark with pre. He’s chasing that unfathomable rush of endorphins. Pursuing the upward arc of his own pleasure, mind awash with how pretty you sound. How good you feel. How wonderful you taste, and he’s more drunk off you than any bit of brandy or whiskey.

He eats until he’s full. Until your hips leave the mattress with no intention of coming down, and his hands mold around the globes of your ass to keep you steady. Straining on toes dug into the mattress, calves stretched taut, fingers squeezing his wrists in a vice grip, and your thighs locked around his head.  

You’re wet and sloppy, arousal dribbling down the cleft of your ass to stain the sheets. His chin is slick with it, and he licks his lips after reluctantly leaving the bewitching seal of your cunt.

There’s a smile in his eyes. Devilish as you pout, and he lowers you back down to the bed as if you’re glass that will shatter if he doesn’t handle with care. He kneads your thigh placatingly, the heat of his palm promising something better. More filling.

You watch with shrouded intrigue, all hot in the face and panting. Drag your fingers over your lips, biting down on your middle. He could come from the sight alone. You spread open and leaking, gaze screaming fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

Sylus sits back on his haunches. All big and smug, palming the heavy throb of his cock through his slacks. Looks down at you from his nose, your eyes tuned to his every move, tongue swiping greedily over your lips.

You’re an eager little flower whilst he unlatches his belt infuriatingly slow, tugging his pants down with equal sluggishness. Down, down until his dick springs free from his briefs, slapping his belly intimidatingly, a glob of pre-spend dribbling honey-slow from the tip.

“You should see yourself,” he husks around a chuckle, gathering up his pre to smear it around his cockhead, and stroking himself so good. Bites his lip, dragging a languid hand down your sternum. “I’ve hardly had my fill, and you’re already about to blow.”

He traps a pretty nipple between his knuckles and pulls, luring a bitten-off sound from your throat. Angles himself forward to take your nipple between his lips, sucking in that way that makes your thighs quake and your voice come out all shrill and broken.

He then teases a thumb between your pussy lips in search of your entrance. Finds it once more with laser precision, and he rubs at it meticulously, slowly shoving your juices back into you.

You keen and clench around him at the knuckle, thrashing against the sheets, your tongue wrapped around his name. He groans in reply, caught in the haze of it all. You ruin him. Bring him to his knees, but he’d never admit it aloud.

“So eager,” Sylus teases. Like his voice isn’t strained from the effort of pumping his cock into the clench of his hand. Like he doesn’t want to spear you on his dick; feel your velvety walls squeezing the head of him so good.

The thought makes his hips stutter, and he’s squeezing his sensitive tip to reign himself in. “I’ll give you what you want soon enough, sweetheart. Just be patient.”

And you are as he taps his heavy dick against your muff with a wet and sticky plap plap. You ruck your hips up to chase the feeling, squeezing a sound through grit teeth. Hate when he teases, when he edges you like this. But he doesn’t keep you waiting, pressing the mushroomed head of his dick to the pucker of your pussy. Eases home past the tight ring of muscle, pushing into you with a sound as thick as seafoam curdling in his chest.

“So beautiful. So perfect.”

He can’t help himself. You feel so good. So wonderful, swallowing him up to the hilt like that. You sigh in tandem at the union. Relief wading through your bones, and you lock eyes through the dusk as the sun seeks shelter behind the horizon, casting you both in its otherworldly glow. Sylus needs no further goading as he grabs your ankles, driving your legs up until your knees press into your tits.

His mouth falls open. Gazes at you through his bangs clinging to his forehead. Through thick lashes, and you’re even more beautiful like this. Ethereal, and he could never tire of the sight. Of the sounds you make, so pretty for him as he rolls his hips, abs contracting and relaxing with each movement.

He plays a steady rhythm thereafter, rolling his pelvis like the slow drag of a tide as he fucks into you. Feels every detail of the channel of your sex constricting around him, and it takes every bit of him not to fuck you harder. He wants to savor this. Has all weekend to drive you wild; to orient himself with every sensitive clump of nerves in your body. So for now, he’ll take his time.

And he does. Driving into you at a maddeningly slow pace. But then, you’re sobbing and thrashing and clawing at the sheets, and he knows you’re close to spilling over the edge.

He doesn’t stall. Reaches between your bodies to find the unfathomable button of pleasure between your legs. Presses and rubs until your voice is shrill and stuck in your throat. Until you’re a shuddering mess, and the look in your eyes tells him all he needs to know. His own peak creeps progressively up his spine, tingling like static, prickling in his stomach.

He suddenly bows forward, your thighs clenched in his palms as he presses his torso fully against you, mooring you to the bed. Pistons in and out, battering against your cervix, your breaths choppy and intermingled, bodies bathed in a dewy sheen of sweat.

You cling to him with arms snaked around his neck. And his mouth seals to yours, swallowing your pitiful huffs of air. You’re his vice. His IV drip, and he can’t live without you. Doesn’t want to, finding himself chanting your name like a broken hymnal as the beginnings of his orgasm seep through him like magma.

He’s coming before he knows it. Ushered to the brink by your walls shuddering around his dick with your own orgasm. And there’s so much of it, his cum dripping hot and milky white down the inner trajectory of your thighs.

He catches himself on shaky arms before he collapses onto you. Laughs while trying to catch his breath, and you chuckle alongside him, hands perched on his waist, ready to catch him if he falls.

You’ll be the death of him, he muses, craning his head down to kiss you. To write the sweetest words of all against your lips, and he thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way.

masterlist

[ardently-verdandi]

With His Daughter vs. With His Twin Sons

[ardently-verdandi]

what does happen when you sit on Zayne’s lap instead of Sylus? 👀

You are not slick. 😂😂😂Trying to wring out spoilers.

But I will say, Sylus is very clearly reluctant to let you go. He also isn’t one to hold you against your will (not unless consent and a safe word are enmeshed with the deal).

He pouts in a way that’s so inherently him, plucking up his bulb of wine from the coffee table as he watches you abandon his lap for Zayne’s.

For you, Zayne is an inevitability—the singularity at the center of a black hole. No matter what direction you wander in, you’ll eventually find him. You’ll always find him, drawn towards this strong, inescapable, dense point until the very threads of your DNA become one with his.

You straddle his lap, and he’s no less warm than Sylus is. No less intimidating and rigid, yet the aura he bleeds isn’t as consuming as a fire. It’s more like the quiet of a forest creeping into dawn, teeming with predators waiting to have their fill.

He sets his wine glass down without relinquishing you from the smolder of his gaze. Fingers curl around the backs of your thighs, helping you settle on his lap.

When you’ve fully situated yourself, your legs dangling from his hips, he fastens you to him with an arm banded around your waist.

Leaning close, his breath blistering your skin, he noses along the slope of your shoulder, no doubt watching Sylus with those feverish greens. Taunting him. Quietly conveying, ‘mine,’ with the curve of his mouth.

“You always come to me when I call,” he whispers, dragging soft lips over heated skin. “Such a good girl.”

Sylus snorts behind you. He acts haughty, but you know he’s secretly enjoying the spectacle.

[ardently-verdandi]

More Emotionally Reserved!Reader x Sylus <3

- The first time you actually approach him with a problem, ANY problem of yours, he’s already jittery and so adorably excited because YOUU CAME TO HIM WITH A PROBLEM!! that obviously implies that he’s gained at least a fragment of your trust that you rarely give people and he feels like a child eating candy for the first time.

- you could simply start complaining about your day, and he’d just sit there with his chin in his palms just staring at you, watching you go on this tangent and trying his best not to interrupt in case you ever stops. he hopes you never do.

- the second you even initiate physical contact of ANY kind, he’s a goner. he’ll absolutely hold onto for the next month or so and Luke and Kieran have to bear witness to the big bad boss of onychinus being all giggly and smitten about it. they will NEVER hear the end of it.

- he’s so hopelessly down bad for you, he’d do absolutely anything to touch you, to simply hold onto your hand, cup your face, run his fingers through your hair, but he wouldn’t dare try to push you. he’s waiting forever for this and if it means you’ll come to him yourself, he’d gladly wait another eternity to hold onto your hand forever.

- When you slide your hand into his while talking about your day, he just freezes and slowly melts into the touch. he’s not used to it. you always shy away from interaction unless it’s with people you hold near and dear to you and oh— it finally strikes him that he’s one of those people. that he’s dear enough for you to hold your heart out on your sleeve for him, that he’s cherished and adored by you after pining for so long.

- and gosh if you ever hug him or tell him you need a hug, he’s treating you like porcelain, pulling you into the most gentle embrace he possibly can, slowly wrapping his arms around you and just shielding you away.

- every time you talk to him it’s music to his ears. and when you curl up next to him when you’re asleep together, he’s tucking you in oh-so gently, draping a blanket over you and hugging from the back slowly so he doesn’t scare you away.

i got,,,,lazy <3 this is super self indulgent again!!

[ardently-verdandi]

Love and Deepspace Soft Touch and Silver Foil Photocards

They turned out super cute!!

Ill have these at Saboten 💐

[ardently-verdandi]

new body pillowcase design ^___^