breathlessmoon

[breathlessmoon]

[breathlessmoon]

tantrum

synopsis: what makes sylus snap?

tags: fluff, sylus is tired and grumpy bc he misses you, he obliterates his phone with his evol, sunshine reader probably, cartoonish luke and kieran appearance (sorry boys) word count: 842

a/n: after that magnum opus line i really wanted to see sylus throw a tantrum and i kept mulling over what would actually make him do that because i can’t see him doing anything much worse than this. i think he’d find Actual grown man tantrums lame. anyway i don’t like this and will maybe delete? nvm but i had the writing urge so i sacrificed this concept from my wips. 

When you arrived at the base after your three-week business trip, your long-awaited homecoming was…tame, to say the least. You’d been expecting a teasing “How nice of you to join us, sweetie,” or a cocky yet vulnerable “I was beginning to think you’d run away.” But once you’d stepped through the front door, Sylus had barely said a word. A soft “Welcome home” and a kiss on the forehead, and before you knew it, you were cradled in his arms as he carried you to his office.

He’d sat you both down in his leather armchair, making you face him in a straddle. His tired eyes had searched yours, and a moment later, he’d buried his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. 

“I missed you,” you’d murmured into his ear, pressing a kiss to his hair. With a quiet groan, he’d tightened his grip on your hips and nuzzled into you even deeper.

That’d been 15 minutes ago. Basking in the comfortable silence, you’d traded kisses all the while—yours on his hair, his on your neck. 

But suddenly, a low buzzing noise cuts your reunion short: his phone is ringing.

When he makes no effort to answer, still breathing heavily in your embrace, you twist in his arms and accept the call before he can protest. 

A familiar voice crackles over the line. “Boss?” Kieran asks. “Next meeting’s in 10. The one about those stolen shipments from Linkon—we’ve been waiting to hear back for months. You coming?”

Sylus doesn’t answer.

“…Boss?” Kieran repeats. “Boss, you there? You oka—”

Red and black mist shreds the phone into pieces. 

“Sylus!” you yelp, jumping in his lap. “What’d you do that for? He’ll probably be worried. And how will I text you now?”

You pout up at him, and as you study his chronically calm expression, you see something unusual: Sylus’s eye twitches. Just for a millisecond, only moving a millimeter, but you catch it.

“I’ll have a new one delivered tomorrow. As for the meeting, I’ll stay here,” he says lightly, a tight, closed-lip smile on his face.

“But Kieran said it was important,” you reply in confusion. “Why don’t you want to go? Are you feeling sick?” you frown, starting to lift off of him.

“No,” comes his too-quick reply. “It’s just…the twins can go in my stead,” he decides simply, moving to lean into you again.

But before he can move an inch, a rhythmic sequence of knocks sounds at the door.

“Come in!” you chirp happily, too excited to see the faces you’d missed the last few weeks to notice Sylus stiffening under you.

Immediately, the door swings open, revealing two masked figures. 

“Hi Luke, hi Kieran!” you beam, and they wave back at you eagerly.

“Long time no see,” Kieran begins. “Boss, did you lose signal or something? I tried calling you about the meeting, but I think it disconnected. Anyway, we’re about to head down and—”

“Cancel it,” a frustrated growl rings out.

You all freeze.

Somehow, you’d been too wrapped up in your excitement to feel Sylus's body shaking—no, quaking—beneath you.

“W-what? But they’re already here!” Luke sputters.

“Cancel. It.” Sylus grits out the words as if holding back a snarl, and the power in his voice leaves no room for argument. 

“O…kay,” the boys say in unison, and as they back away slowly, you shoot them a sympathetic look.

Red tendrils wrench the door shut behind them, and when you’re alone once more, it’s like the man under you deflates.

His head returns to the crevice of your neck with a soft but unceremonious thud, and his deep exhales and burning hot skin tell you he’s trying to calm himself down. 

Uncertain and a little amazed—you’d never seen him lose his composure—you give his cheek a gentle poke. “Sylus,” you whisper. Nothing. 

“Psst. Sylus,” you try again, and there’s some force behind your poke this time. With bated breath, you watch as your finger sinks into the space under his cheekbone, sighing in relief when the corner of his mouth twitches upwards. 

Lifting his head up to make eye contact, you smile at him softly. “Hi.”

“…Hi,” he rumbles, and as his crimson gaze softens, the remaining annoyance dissolves from his face.

“Are you upset?” you prod gently. 

A brazen scoff precedes the dry chuckles that fall from his lips. “And what makes you say that, kitten?”

A squint and a slight tilt of your head is all it takes. 

“I haven’t had you to myself in a while,” he begins cautiously. “Three weeks is…a long time. The longest we’ve been apart. And then the moment I have you in my arms, well…” he trails off, gesturing to the shards of phone on the table. “I just want to enjoy you right now. Undisturbed.”

“Oh, I see,” you coo, cupping his face in your hands. “Is this your way of saying you missed me too?” you quirk a brow.

“Yes,” he responds through squished cheeks, honest and unabashed. “Now, won’t you stay with me like this for a little longer?”

[breathlessmoon]

Princess Jellyfish - Akiko Higashimura

[breathlessmoon]

being 4 legged probably feels good as hell you're literally made to be twice as good at walking around. and baby i love walking around

[breathlessmoon]

“smile for the camera, baby!” ☆

as if you could.

caleb is all too cocky about your inability to do anything but lay beneath him all slack-jawed and shaky as he drills his cock into you despite your overstimulation.

you’re so fucked out that you can’t even muster up the energy or mindpower to regret gifting your boyfriend and polaroid camera for his birthday. you had brought it with romance in mind—he’s away so often for such long periods at a time that you thought a few sweet photos he can carry in the lining of his uniform jacket would be a nice idea.

but caleb, the amalgamation of all things desperate and horny, couldn’t wait five minutes after unwrapping his gift to start unwrapping you as well. each layer of clothing discarded he’d reward with a photo of your revealed skin until he was trying to finesse a way to hold the camera with one hand as the other pumped his fingers mercilessly into your cunt.

now, hours later, you’re laying on a bed of polaroids, each more lewd than the last. one digs into your skin while another is jostled off the bed with the hard thrusts of your boyfriends leaky cock into your (regrettably) still-needy pussy. the effect this man has on you is unreasonable—you’ve cum so many times that you can’t form a coherent thought and still you think you’d cry if he pulled out and denied you the stretch of his cock.

flash. another shot is taken, this one of your glossy eyes and drool-soaked lips.

“you’re so messy,” he teases like his dick isn’t shining with the sweet mixture of your releases—like he’s not spat on your cunt just to rub load after load of cum around your clit in sick circles that make you choke on your breath. what an asshole he is.

“gonna make you cum again, pips,” he grins, dark hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. “i want to see if i can catch you squirting in a pic, hm?”

you part your kiss-swollen lips to protest. “cant—“ is all you can manage though, before your boyfriend, your best friend, is squeezing your cheeks between his long fingers and frowning down at you.

“don’t doubt yourself, pretty, you can do anything if you set your mind to it!”

pep talk of the century. you’d laugh at him if you had half your mind left, but all you have the space to think about is how he’s never gotten quite this deep inside of you before. you don’t even process the way he’s driven your hips up with his thighs to feel even more of you around him.

so perfect, he calls you. and even though he’s fucking you erratically, once he feels the telltale signs of your impending orgasm, he’s all smiles. sweet glossy eyes brimming with needy tears, flushed cheeks, soft brows… the man with his cock so deep inside of you that you’re seeing stars, leans down to press a kiss to your forehead as you orgasm.

it’s too much. you choke on it, you feel it in every bone in your body and still you crave more of him. you squirt around his cock with a moan made for porn and caleb feels like a hormonal virgin all over again.

click. another pic; one that prints to be fanned out immediately—one hand flapping the print through the air as the other one rubs slow circles on your tummy as he tries to feel himself pushing inside of you.

once it finally develops enough to gift caleb with the sight of your spread legs and the mess of lust between them, you swear he grows even harder inside of you.

“yeah,” your idiot of a man grins. “this one’s going on my wall.”

[breathlessmoon]

Where's my Breakfast?

Oil on Panel 30x30 cm

Artist: Daniel Arthur

[breathlessmoon]

love men who are nonchalant about their chalantness. love men who are soooooo fucking chill on the outside but a writhing mess of want and desire on the inside. love men who can control their breathing perfectly but if you glance down you'll realize that they've soaked through their pants on just precum alone. yeah. yeah.

[breathlessmoon]

Measuring? 📏

inspired by: baobei-bu

[breathlessmoon]

working out together ♡

[breathlessmoon]

[breathlessmoon]

my babyyyy! 😣 look at him sulking and pouting😭🤍

full credit to artist: @fishbone0306 on X!

[breathlessmoon]

dude ur interrupting on the floor time with ur beautiful face STOP

[breathlessmoon]

I am very tired and I want to be held by someone who loves me

[breathlessmoon]

It was a headache at first. And then the itching—oh the itching! She clawed at her head relentlessly, to no avail. Something other than relief sprouted beneath her fingertips.

But her pain was soothed instead of scorned, her horns met with kindness instead of a knife.

[breathlessmoon]

[breathlessmoon]

woops!

[breathlessmoon]

The art of HΣRCULΣS (1997) by John Musker, Sue Nichols, Gerald Scarfe, Andy Gaskill, Jeff Ranjo, Francis Glebas, and Tom Cardone.