himbodruid

[himbodruid]

Storm

CW: mentions of death, PTSD, trauma, survivor’s guilt

Oneshot heavy angst Rafayel x Reader

You survive a horrific event and seek out Rafayel on a stormy night

Not NSFW for smut reasons, but does delve into heavy topics, so probably best left as minors DNI

**********

There was something about the power of an unrelenting storm that brought about late night inspiration. The flashes from lightning streaking across the canvas offered daring glimpses to the painting Rafayel was immersed in. The room was otherwise dark, save for a single candle he’d lit. He didn’t mind, he didn’t need to see what was happening. This painting wasn’t about precise strokes anyway.

Three rapid-fire bursts of light made him pause, brush hovering over the canvas. Something was off, a small voice at the back of his head urging him to go to the door. He ignored it at first, until it came again. This time saying someone approaches. It was an intuition that was only attuned to one person, and she should not be out in a storm like this.

And sure enough, there you were on his doorstep, drenched and breathing heavily.

“Cutie? What are you doing here?” A half smile spread on his face, trying to not let his worry show at the disheveled state you were in. Your hair was plastered to your face, clothing soaked through. He would be surprised if your service weapon was even functional once dry. But what caught him off guard the most was the amount of blood splattered across your face and chest.

He didn’t give you time to respond, instead pulling you into the warmth of the villa and shoving the cardigan he wore around your shoulders. Your body trembled and the nonverbal and near-catatonic state you were in sent spikes of anxiety rocketing through him.

You could hear him calling your name, but his voice was a distant echo that was drowned out by the screams that were still ringing in your ear. You didn’t even know why you’d come here, but your legs just carried you on a whim of their own. You dragged yourself up from the depths of despair when you felt his warm hands cupping your ice cold face. The concern knitting his brow together is the first thing that came into focus, and then his voice.

“There you are,” he said, with a relieved sigh. His soft smile, his warm presence…just him. You understood now why you sought him out. Breath stole away from you and your face crumpled as a sob clawed its way up your throat. Death was part of every day, but the horrors that you’d witnessed that day were enough to make you question everything.

You swayed on your feet, the cramping in your legs evidence to how far you’d gone to come here. His arms came around you, holding you to him and swaying. He didn’t ask what was wrong, and for that you were grateful. You didn’t know if you could talk about it then, if ever. Not without flashes of your colleagues being struck down from right beside you. Rookies that you’d helped train, now nothing more than decimated corpses, casualties of the hunt.

You came back to the present again, realizing that Rafayel was running a shower. He’d steered you there without you having any cognizant memory of it- or had he carried you? Only he knew.

He approached you cautiously, his movements slow so he wouldn’t frighten you, as though you were a wild animal on the verge of bolting. Maybe you were. A hand appeared in your line of sight, interrupting the hypnotizing pattern of the tile you were staring at without seeing. Blinking rapidly, you shook your head to clear it and looked at him. His face held such a tender calmness and you wanted to do nothing more than curl into him. But you were aware that your trembling was more than just the trauma you’d witnessed. An icy chill seeped deep into your bones, and you were almost certain you could hear your joints creaking like old doors when you lifted your hand to take his.

He was gentle and placating, asking permission for every move he made. Asking “is this okay?” for every touch, for every soaked article of clothing that stuck to you like a second skin that he peeled from you. It took time, but eventually you stood trembling and nude in front of him, not a single hint of embarrassment you knew you should feel. You were numb, physically and emotionally, when he guided you into the hot spray of the shower. Panic clawed at you when he left you, but you fought it back when you realized he only did so to remove his own clothing before joining you.

His touch kept you in the present, the warmth of his hands and the water working to clean you, to warm you and pull you back from that pit. You kept your eyes locked on him, sometimes unseeing. For the most part, though, you concentrated on the way his brow furrowed, the way his mouth dropped into a pout whenever he frowned, the cerulean depths of his eyes broken up by startlingly bright streaks of fuschia. The relief that washed over his face when he realized most of the blood on your face wasn’t yours, and what was yours came from a single cut that split your brow. You hissed a breath at the unexpecting sting when he dabbed at the cut with a cloth. The only evidence of what you’d survived that day.

Survived. Survived. When others didn’t. So many others…

“Don’t,” he said softly, taking you by the chin and making you look at him again. His voice snapped you back to him. “I can see you trying to leave me again, so just don’t.”

The command became an anchor for you, alongside his touch. When he finished assessing you for more injuries, he took his time to wash the blood and mud that caked your hair and then just held you to him until your body temperature returned to normal, until your trembling ceased and your breath wasn’t heaving. The steady beat of his heart in your ear helped to ground you, and you were finally able to close your eyes without seeing the events of the day unfold over and over.

And even after the shower, the care and concern that he showed you was so much more than you thought you deserved. He brushed and dried your hair, humming to himself as he went about the task as if that were a normal everyday thing he did. Dressed you in one of his shirts so your clothes could dry, bundled you in a pile of blankets, and then led you back to the studio so you could watch the storm together. His arms were wrapped around you in a loose embrace while he sat behind you. At first your posture was stiff and awkward, but you sunk back into his warmth after a minute. He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask questions, and for that you were grateful. His silent companionship did more to soothe your aching soul than any therapy.

“Rafayel?” Your voice was small, alien to you. You were normally boisterous and obnoxious, never meek like this strange shell of a creature that sat in your place.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” He huffed a small laugh, kissing you on the temple. His arms squeezed you briefly, as though that alone could keep the shattered pieces of you from floating away. And in a way, it did.

“Stay here with me, cutie,” he said. The relief in his voice was palpable, as though nothing mattered until he could hear you acknowledge his presence.

“Is that okay?” You didn’t want to be anywhere else but right there with him. And you didn’t want to be alone.

“Stay with me as long as you need, however long you want. I’ll be right here with you, always within arm’s reach.”

You turned slightly in his embrace so that you could look at him. You studied his face, traced every contour of it with your eyes. Memorized every detail, right down to the two tiny freckles that dotted the side of his nose and his cheek. You didn’t believe in perfection, but in that moment, that is what he was to you.

He wasn’t paying attention, his eyes cast out to the sea and the turmoil of the storm that swirled above it. He was still very conscious of you, though, of your assessing gaze, of your every breath and movement. You felt your heart stutter in your chest, with a fleeting emotion that was something akin to affection. A light in the darkness.

So, it was with surprise to you both that you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He froze, you froze, and then you pulled back from him, embarrassed at that moment of weakening impulse control. But instead of letting you shrink back into yourself, he kissed your brow before resting his head against yours with a soft, contented sigh.

And so, you spent the night in his embrace. When sleep did come to you, plagued with nightmares, he upheld his promise and was there within arm’s reach whenever you woke- if he wasn’t already holding you. He did everything in his power to help you heal from that day, and expected nothing more than your cooperation when it came to eating and drinking.

When the darkness finally became less burdensome, you came to the terrifying realization that you were in love with him. But his actions spoke louder than any words ever could, and you knew that he loved you too. You could see it in the softening of his gaze, in his smile, the warmth of his voice, the attentiveness in which he catered to you.

Perfect, indeed.

[himbodruid]

A Kitten and A Crow

The last installment is finally here!

The only place Helene can seem to escape the nightmares of the attack is in Sylus’s bed…but when Sylus comes home to find her there..

Sylus x MC

Teasing Sylus ends up losing control | carnal, primal | minor praise |

Part 1 | Part 2

INTENDED FOR 18+ READERS. MINORS DNI

********************

Fear is an emotion that can be borne from trauma. Why Helene ever thought she would be immune to that particular kind of fear, she didn’t know. Maybe it was because she faced many monsters daily as a hunter, and residual fear from those encounters was rarely present.

But there was a stark difference between wanderers and humans. Wanderers were predictable in the sense that they would almost always attack. Humans were unpredictable. Humans could be friendly at face value, and then turn on you a moment later. It’s why Helene typically chose to stay alone, with a small circle of friends.

Sylus was an outlier. He was as unpredictable as they came, yet instinct told her that he would never do anything to harm her intentionally. The first moments of their meeting had been strained by high emotion, but she was no longer abhorred by him, not after learning truths that had been kept from her. In the several months she knew him, interacted with him, she learned that he could be trusted. And in that time he also became a safe space for her.

Which is probably why she became a target to his opposition.

Still, the nightmares that plagued her as a result of the attack were a nuisance. Helene frequently woke, drenched in sweat, and had a hard time figuring out where she was for the first few minutes as her mind clawed up from the panic. She remained at Sylus’s home to continue her recovery, though she now physically felt okay. He had boldly called her boss and made excuses for her, citing some accident that would cause her to miss at least two weeks of work. And Captain Jenna, bless her soul, had taken to his honeyed words and given her a month off.

It was nearing the end of that month long leave when Helene found herself sneaking into Sylus’s unoccupied room- again. It had been within that first week that Sylus had her moved to her own space, and she couldn’t bring herself to put up much complaint about the new arrangement. She didn’t want to intrude, after all. So, she always made sure to do it when he was away from the house on business, embarrassed that she felt the need to resort to this. But the moment she climbed into his bed and was surrounded by the smokey scent of him, it calmed her nerves and lulled her into a dreamless sleep.

Typically, she made sure to leave before he arrived home. Before he could find her invading his space and taking up a quarter of his massive bed. But for some reason, sleep tugged her deep into unconsciousness this time, and she didn’t even wake when he slammed into the room in a panic after finding her messy bed empty. His relieved sigh turned into a breathless chuckle as Sylus strode towards the bed. Sitting at the edge, he reached over and brushed a strand of raven hair out of her face with a tender touch. She didn’t stir, so he left her to her peace.

It was hours later when Helene struggled to escape from the clutches of sleep. Warmth radiated from behind her, and her sleep addled mind tried to comprehend the sound of steady breathing coming from that direction too. Despite wanting to sink into that warmth and return to blissful nothingness, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Helene turned to look and was startled to find a mountain of a man in the bed beside her. A surge of adrenaline had her jerking back from him, until the details of the room sunk through the panic and reached the logical portion of her brain. Sylus’s room, therefore Sylus. A quick glance at the silver hair confirmed and locked the logic in place, allowing her pulse to quiet.

As tension uncoiled from her gut, she let her eyes roam over the figure that rested beside her. Sylus lay on his stomach, with his arms folded under his pillow and his head turned away from her. Even breaths suggested he still slumbered, and that was the only reason she allowed her hand to reach forward and trace the muscled planes of his bare back. As dangerous as this man was, Helene was surprised to find flawless skin, free from any kind of scarring or other blemish. Fingers traced over his shoulders and then down his spine in a feather-light touch, curiosity overriding any other sense of self preservation. The blanket rested low across his hips, barely covering the rise of his- she jerked her hand back, realizing then that he was completely naked under the covers. That explained why he insisted on wandering the manse in nothing more than a silk robe and slippers in his off time.

After getting over her initial shock, she went back to tracing the rolling hills of his muscles. The sheer power packed into those bundles was astonishing and beautiful, and Helene briefly wondered at the time and patience it must have taken Sylus to build his physique to such a state. He was an absolute mountain compared to her petite stature, and it was a fact she’d never really appreciated until that moment.

With fingers dipping down his deltoid and onto his bicep, Helene had stopped paying attention to the pattern of his breath. She was wholly unaware of it becoming shallow and assessing. Then he swiftly rolled and snatched her wrist, yanking her over him so that she lay across his chest at an awkward diagonal angle.

“Kitten,” he gruffed, voice roughened by sleep. “Keep touching me like that, and we’re gonna have a problem.”

She swirled the fingers of her free hand against his chest in contemplation. “What kinda problem?”

“You,” he said, kissing the wrist of her trapped hand and locking his crimson gaze to hers. “Are still recovering.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” She asked, her confusion genuine. She felt fine, really. Sylus just chuckled, moving his lips to her palm. He nuzzled into her hand, closing his eyes for a brief moment of bliss when she responded by cupping his face.

“Nothing, Kitten,” he replied with feigned innocence. “But imagine my surprise, coming home from a stressful operation and finding you sprawled across my bed instead of your own.”

“Ah, yeah. I can probably explain that,” she said, her voice light and distant. Her fingertips had brushed the silky strands of his hair, the softness she found there driving her to distraction.

“Probably?” He urged, his large hand sliding up her forearm from her wrist. There was a sort of hunger in his gaze, the kind that sent heat pooling in her core.

“Mhmm. Bed’s more comfy,” she said airily. She traced the line of his jaw with her fingertips, ear to chin. His breathing grew heavier at her touch, a soft sigh escaping him when she brushed the pad of her thumb along the rim of his lower lip.

“More comfy? It’s the same mattress that’s in your room,” he said. His voice sounded huskier than it had moments prior.

“Yeah, but that bed doesn’t have you in it.” She hadn’t really meant him physically, just his essence. But the heated way he was looking at her fried her brain, and she couldn’t figure out how to articulate her words to convey her exact meaning.

She didn’t realize she was leaning heavily into him until his hooded gaze flicked to her lips and then back to her eyes. Reality crashed through her, and she jerked herself away from him. She sat up abruptly, face flaming and heart thundering.

What the fuck are you doing, she reprimanded herself, sitting at the edge of the bed with her back facing him. This man is vastly out of your league, not to mention a criminal wanted by your job. Your feelings shouldn’t cross that line…but…

Her inner turmoil was enough to distract her from his movements. She was unaware that he coiled like a panther ready to strike, precise movements that wouldn’t jostle her until he was looming directly behind her.

“Does my touch repulse you so much that you turn from me,” he murmured, dragging his knuckles down her arm in a feather-light touch. She shivered, goosebumps raising at the sensation. The flush in her face spread to her chest in mortification at how easily his touch could affect her.

“N-no, I-“ she stuttered, her breath hitching when his arms wrapped loosely around her. He buried his nose against her neck, lips finding her skin in a searing kiss.

“Then come back to bed,” he murmured, kissing higher on her neck. He reached for the buttons of her sleep shirt, hesitating before working to unbutton them- waiting for her to stop him. Instead, she leaned back into him until the entire row of buttons was undone. The drag of the soft fabric across her skin, across her breasts sent a shiver through her. And then her torso was bared to him entirely. He reverently brushed the bruises that were nearly fully faded with the pads of his fingers, and traced the slash that twisted from her ribs to the back of her hip. His touch was assessing, gentle, but it still raised goosebumps across her entire body. And, embarrassingly, her nipples also pebbled under his scrutinizing touch.

The fact that the life-threatening wound had knitted into a neat and tidy almost-scar amazed even her. But he must’ve been satisfied with the progress of her healing, since one of his hands flattened against her stomach. Meanwhile, with the other, he crooked a finger under her chin and pulled her face to his.

The kiss skipped right past gentle and dove into hungry and demanding. A veil of desperation dropped over them and suddenly his every action was all-consuming. She met him with every push and pull with a fervor of her own, an ardor that ignited the moment he coaxed her open and tangled his tongue with hers.

She twisted in his embrace, her hands cupping the base of his skull, slanting her mouth across his to deepen what they already shared. The whimper she let out was swallowed by his growl. He pulled her hands from him, but only so that he could slide her shirt off her shoulders. Then he hauled her into his lap, her legs wrapping around his waist and her arms tugging him close. He was hard, pressed between their bodies. And, oh fuck, the sounds he made when she ground her hips against him. Deep and guttural, he pulled from her lips to release that rumbling moan with shuddering breaths trailing after.

“Sylus,” she breathed. He nudged her chin up by tucking his face against her neck to kiss her throat. Bringing her hands up to card them through the silky strands of his hair, she let her head fall back. He dipped his tongue into the hollow of her throat, scraped his teeth against her collarbone, placed open-mouthed kisses as he made his descent. When he made it to her breasts, he bit into the mound with gentle force before turning his mouth onto her nipple. Her head snapped forward to find crimson eyes locked on her face, watching her expressions as he swirled his tongue first on one nipple, then the other. Soft whimpers escaped her, and she bit her bottom lip to try and contain them.

Arms encircled her waist, and suddenly she was pinned beneath Sylus’s bulk. He leaned over her on his forearms, his chest heaving with the effort to contain his ardor. A knee wedged between hers, and she eagerly opened herself to accept his weight against her pelvis. His cock rested heavy on her abdomen, the fabric of her shorts the only thing separating them.

“Kitten,” he moaned. His hand traced the scar across her ribs again. “I need you to tell me no, to send me away.”

“But why?” She squirmed beneath him, rolling her hips against him, running her hands over his body. The heat rolling off him pooled in her core, and she was desperate to feel him inside her.

“You’re still recovering,” he whined, repeating his words from earlier. “And I don't think I can be gentle right now.”

“What if I told you that I don’t want you to be gentle,” she murmured in her own sort of growl. She locked her legs around his waist so he couldn’t even dare to try and remove himself from her.

“Hel,” he warned, using one of his many nicknames for her to try and drive his point.

“Sylus,” she replied firmly. She brought her hands up to cup his face. “Yes, I had a near death experience, but I survived it thanks to you. But right now? I need you to fuck me.”

He groaned, dropping his head to her chest and giving her a lingering kiss there. “You don’t know what you do to me, Kitten.”

“I think I have an idea,” she teased, reaching between their bodies to take him in hand. He hissed in a breath that released as a moan when she stroked him root to tip. She pumped him, delighting in the moans and growls in her ear from just that simple touch. His body trembled with the effort to contain himself and his breathing grew erratic. Helene swore she could hear his heart thundering alongside hers. She definitely felt it when her mouth found the pulse in his neck. He cradled her head to keep her there, allowing her to latch onto his skin with ease and draw up a bruising mark there. All the while he thrust into her grasp with long, drawn out rolls of his hips.

When he suddenly jerked from her, it was with a heavy bark of a moan. He sat back on his heels, head dropping back as he tried to bring himself back from the edge. His breaths shuddered, and Helene couldn’t help but feel proud of herself for the pretty flush that adorned him.

It took a few moments, but his eyes finally fell on her again, and none of the hunger had left his gaze. He kept his attention locked on her when he unlocked her legs from his waist, kept it there when he took the hem of her shorts and pulled them swiftly from her, kept it there when he dipped fingers into her soaked folds to test her readiness, and kept it there when he took those fingers and tasted her. Then it was her turn to close her eyes and moan at the sight that would be seared into her brain for months to come.

Her eyes sprung open when he nudged her, but a different kind of nudge than she was expecting. His hands guided her so that she was on elbows and knees in front of him, a pillow wedged beneath her chest for comfort. Being exposed to him like that sent a thrill through her like she’d never felt before. Not being able to see what he was doing filled her with anticipation and it took effort not to squirm under his scrutiny.

And when he finally mounted her, leaning over her so his chest pressed against her back, she couldn’t help the moan that escaped. Teeth scraped the slope of her neck, his hot breath panting in her ear, his body trembling with restraint. She could feel his cock, resting just out of reach. She longed to push back into him, to feel him split her, but his body and his weight engulfed her. All she could do was squirm.

“Sylus,” she complained, tilting her head away so his travelling mouth could have access to her neck.

“Yes, Kitten?” His low growl rumbled through her back, and she gasped a moan.

“Sylus,” she said, his name but a breathless whimper.

“Mmh, well when you say my name like that, Kitten,” he huffed, pressing his hips forward so he just barely breached her folds. She knew he was teasing her, but fuck, she just wanted him to fill her.

His fingers intertwined with hers, his grip a firm anchor for the sensations zipping through her. The torturously slow forward press of his hips left her panting, mewling his name in breathless pleas. He reveled in every sound she made until he could no longer bear it.

His hips snapped forward with a grunt, one swift motion that plunged his cock into her. Fuck, he was deep, and her gasping moans filled the air. His breath left him in short, shuddering gasps. Feeling her wrapped so tightly around his cock threatened to unbind the control he tried to maintain.

“Fuck, Kitten,” he moaned, barely pulling back before forcefully thrusting back in. “You feel too good.”

“S-Sy-“ she cried. He finally began to move in earnest now, pistoning in and out of her at a frantic pace. Each powerful thrust pressed her further into the pillow, the mattress. His grunts, growls, moans filtered directly into her ear, the very ear that he occasionally took up in a soft bite. Every sensation of him was overwhelming and not enough at the same time.

Absorbed in his every movement, she felt the loss of his hand around hers immensely. But then that hand was pushing against her jaw, guiding her face towards his so his mouth could slant over hers. His fingers clutching her jaw, hand against her throat, provided a soft pressure and became a different anchor while his tongue ravaged hers. She dug her nails into his bicep with the hand freed from him.

The sounds of their bodies colliding rose to join their moans, their panting. He used his knees to push her legs wider, to take him so impossibly deep. Each stroke of his cock brought her closer to the edge, her thundering pulse dropping lower and lower in her abdomen until it coiled deep in her core.

“Sy..lus,” she moaned into his mouth, his name broken up by her breathy cries. “I’m…I’m gonna-“

“Come with me, Kitten,” he commanded with a growl. And she did. She arched into the bed, pushing her hips back into him with a hoarse cry. The pulsing flutter of her walls sent him over the edge immediately following her. His body jerked with the force of the pleasure slamming into him- moans, growls, and grunts pouring from him to join her cries.

“Good girl,” he chuckled breathlessly once the initial rush calmed. He was still pumping into her with short thrusts, and the stimulation threatened to throw her into another release. And she swore he knew it, because he suddenly slammed his hips forward and ruthlessly threw her over the edge again. She trembled and dug her nails into his arms while he kissed wherever his hot mouth could reach. He kept her trapped there under him, kept her at his mercy and fuck if it didn’t just turn her on more.

“Sylus,” she whimpered, rolling her hips into him. His body stilled and his breath hitched as she began moving beneath him. Authority was soon diverted to her as each thrust was dictated by her movement, punctuated by breathy moans from both of them. His eyes remained locked on hers as she rocked against him, ensnared by the sheer intoxication of her. Until the pleasure coiled so tightly that the threads of his restraint began to fray.

When that control finally snapped, he was slamming into her with primal ferocity. His body pressed her into the mattress, flattening her against it entirely. His mouth found the slope of her neck in a harsh bite, and she shattered around him. Her breathy cries chanted his name as her entirety convulsed beneath him. Curses and shouts of pleasure erupted from him as her body milked his for everything he had to give. His cum flooded her, and the pulsing of his cock buried deep inside her felt neverending.

They both trembled together, fighting to return from the high of shared ecstasy. He kissed the spot he sank his teeth into, before rolling off her so he wouldn’t crush her underneath him while they regained their breath. He brushed strands of hair from her face and she turned her head to him. The smile he gave her was painfully tender, but she couldn't help returning it. Fatigue took over and she closed her eyes, dropping her head to the pillow under her with a heavy, contented half-moan of a sigh.

Helene was aware of him in a new way, now. Even though she couldn’t see him, she felt his very being. Felt the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing returned to normal, felt his eyes drifting over her prone figure, felt his movement as he reached over to touch her. She felt him shift to kiss her on the temple, and felt him leave the bed. Her heart lurched when he left, doubt trying to settle into her. But he returned shortly after to gather her in his arms and carry her to the bathroom. The tub was filling, and he settled her into the hot water as it did. She opened her eyes to watch him busy himself with collecting various things. Bottles of scented oils and soaps, towels, and washcloths. He did all of this stark naked, comfortable enough in his own skin to not shy away from her appreciative gaze.

Once he was done with his task, he joined her in the bath. He sat behind her, wrapping his arms around her as if she would try to escape him. But she had no intention of doing that, instead leaning back against him and closing her eyes while he washed her. When his fingers dug into her scalp to wash her hair, she knew she was in heaven.

His roaming hands were probably meant to help her relax, but they had the opposite effect with her overly sensitive body. The shocked expression he gave her, when she abruptly turned around in the tub, quickly melted away to one of pleasure when she impaled herself on him. Her lips never left his, except to moan his name, as she rode him. Water lapped at the edges of the tub, spilling over the edge while they chased release again. Climax came to them swiftly and sweetly, a stark contrast to the carnal frenzy of their last coupling.

They finally left the tub when the water began to cool and, after drying her off, he carried her back to his bed. Here he proceeded to take her over and over until exhaustion crashed into both of them. He caged her in his embrace, his chest to her back, and his warmth lulled her to sleep.

It was the first night Helene slept through without a single nightmare.

[himbodruid]

The typo demons struck again 😭😭🤣

[himbodruid]

If you followed me for LADS content i’m sorry but i’m gonna chew on my new druid

[himbodruid]

A snippet of the next Kitten and a Crow part! Parts 1 and 2 linked in my pinned

Headcanon is that he sleeps nakey that way if someone attacks him, he can pull a gun without clothes limiting his range of motion 😏

[himbodruid]

Part 3 of Kitten and A Crow should be done within the next couple of days~

In the meantime, feel free to familiarize yourself with the story!

Part 1 | Sylus finds her battered and bruised after a frantic call, and quickly dispatches the perpetrator (bro touched her and got ded lol)

Part 2 | Helene regains consciousness and explains to Sylus the events leading up to part one

Part 3 (SOON) | Helene reconciles with trauma but finds herself in a safe space…that also happens to be Sylus’s bed, and he’s not opposed to sharing

[himbodruid]

Withers wanted to join the trend

He’s a Zayne girlie

[himbodruid]

This new banner gonna do NUMBERS with my wild imagination 🥲

[himbodruid]

Painting Lessons

Rafayel x Reader

I don’t even know what keywords to use for this one lmao

INTENDED FOR 18+ READERS. MINORS DNI

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

“I don’t think I understand, Rafayel,” you say, tilting your head at the canvas in front of you. You sat in the cushioned nook beneath the giant bay windows that made up his studio, an easel in front of you and various supplies scattered around you. Rafayel sat next to you with his own canvas, guiding you along his creative process. While the painting in front of him flowed whimsically, yours looked…strained and forced. The subject matter was the same, and technically speaking it wasn’t the worst thing you’d painted under his tutelage. But something about it was still off.

“Your brain is thinking too logically,” he said over your shoulder, having leaned in to inspect the canvas.

“I’m a hunter, of course my brain is logical,” you say, scrunching your nose. Rafayel chuckled.

“Yes, yes, Miss Bodyguard, we’re all aware of your mental prowess. But when you’re painting, you have to feel the picture, not think it.”

“I feel it!” Your pout was met with another chuckle. Rafayel then moved behind you, sitting so that his legs rested on either side of yours. It was a far more intimate position than you were used to with him, and you felt yourself flush. As much of a terrible flirt as he was, you knew you shouldn’t read into how he wrapped a steadying arm around your waist, or how he took your hand in his and guided your paintbrush with deft strokes. His hand engulfed yours, his cool touch a stark contrast to the blushing heat radiating off you.

“You need to let the paint guide you, not the other way around. Stop thinking and worrying too much about getting to the end result, instead let yourself revel in the journey. Because that’s what painting is- a journey.”

You fought back the shudder that threatened to overtake you at the warmth of his voice directly in your ear. The light and airy quality of it as he talked about his passion. The breathy undertones as the warmth of your body sunk into his. He released your hand and pulled his back, resting it on your knee. You sat deathly still in front of him, and you had to resist the urge to lean back into him when he pulled away.

“There, see?” He reached over to his abandoned spot and grabbed his paint pallet. “Now take a little bit of this tangerine colour.”

“Wait, what?” You question, looking back at the colours of the Koi fish circling in a dusk-darkened pond. The hues ranged from deep reds, to purples, to varying shades of blue. You were convinced that a bright splash of colour would end up ruining it.

“Just trust me,” he chuckled. “Having a bright contrasting colour will help to draw the eye and guide the viewer around the painting. Don’t add a lot, just the barest outline on the fish.”

You skeptically did what he suggested, and were pleasantly surprised when the tiniest bit helped to pop the fish right off the canvas. Once done, you did lean back to look at it. It still wasn’t anywhere near his level, but it wasn’t awful either. You turned and flashed a grin at him. In doing so, you found him watching you with a painful tenderness in his eyes. A soft smile danced on his face and…wait, was he leaning into you?

A ringing phone was definitely a stereotypical mood-breaker. You huffed an awkward laugh, slumping in disappointment. But when you tried to turn your head away, Rafayel crooked a finger under your chin and pulled your face back to his. The kiss was unhurried, testing whatever feeling, whatever tension, that had been growing for the last hour that he’d caged you against him. Any and all thoughts on the painting lesson vanished from your head, and only he remained. He slanted his lips over yours, taking the kiss further when you didn’t pull away from him. His hand trailed your jaw, curling around to cradle the back of your head, with the pad of his thumb brushing along your cheek. You could feel his heart thundering in his chest through your back, and your heart raced alongside his.

Distracted by him, by his touch, your hand fumbled the paintbrush and it slipped from your grasp. That fiery tangerine colour streaked across his black trousers, thoroughly ruining them. You jerked with a gasp, covering your mouth in horror as the pair of you watched the offending brush roll to the floor.

“Shit, Raf, I am so sorry. I’ll pay for dry cleaning!”

He didn’t reply, just continued to hold you back against him. Hot breath moved the waterfall of hair that barely separated him from you, and it tickled your neck. You were very aware of his lips just a hair's breadth away from meeting your flesh. You subconsciously tilted your head away from his, granting him access to your neck. Those elegant fingers of his rose to brush your hair aside so that he could kiss below your ear, the slope of your neck, your shoulder. Wherever his mouth roamed, your skin heated until you were almost sure you had a full body blush.

“What if,” he murmured between kisses, “I wanted you to pay another way?”

You inhaled sharply when he scraped his teeth against your flesh. With a hand gripping his thigh, you leaned back into his soft bite. It was just enough to sting, but not enough to be painful, and the sensation shot straight to your core. It must have had the same effect on him, as you were certain you could feel him growing hard against your lower back.

And fuck, the sounds he made. The tiniest of whimpered moans that you could barely hear as his hands roamed your body. Those hands that pulled your off-the-shoulder shirt from the waistband of your jeans, that slid up your sides under your shirt. Hands that rested against your ribs, just below your chest in a pseudo innocent touch that seared through you.

You reached your hand up to brush a strand of hair back into place on his forehead and his eyes opened. Those beautiful, deep cerulean depths with flecks of fuschia locked onto you as you turned your head back to him. His lips crashed against yours again, tongue darting against your lower lip to coax you open. The moan he let loose when you did was like a jolt to your core. His right hand engulfed your left breast, his arm wrapped around you and pulled you against him. His unoccupied hand drifted down your abdomen, easily flicking open the button on your jeans and sinking beneath the hem. Your gasp was swallowed by him when those deft fingers of his touched you, testing the slickness of your folds. He groaned into you, finding you wet and wanting.

And then he ripped himself from you, and suddenly you were flat on your back with him on hands and knees over you. His face was flushed and his breathing was ragged, eyes searching yours. Your head tilted and you touched his lower lip softly with a finger. Then trailed that finger down his chin, across his jaw. His breath turned to short gasps as your fingers continued to drift featherlight touches down his neck, his collarbone, and finally the little bit of his chest that peeked between the open edges of his shirt.

He snatched your wrist and brought it to his face. He nuzzled your skin with his nose, an act reminisce of a time he went insane over a silly little perfume. You couldn’t miss how his eyes were darkened with desire, his gaze flicking to yours.

“Cutie,” he groaned, kissing your wrist. “I don’t think i can hold back any longer.”

Grasping the back of his neck, you pulled him down atop you and crashed your lips against his. He moaned into your mouth, setting his weight on you. He pressed you into the cushions beneath you, his knee wedging between yours. You could feel him through the fabric that separated you, hard and heavy. Slipping your hand between your bodies, you cupped his length through his trousers. With a whimpering gasp of a moan, his hips jerked forward. He buried his face against your neck, his breathy moans interrupted by his lips caressing your skin.

“Rafayel,” you breathed, rubbing your legs against his as you hitched them up to wrap around his waist. “I need you.”

It took great effort for him to tear himself away from you. But his blush grew deeper when you sat up, removed your shirt and lay beneath him in just the lacy bra you’d concealed with that plain white tee. It wasn’t intentional, wearing that kind of titillating bra, but you were glad you did when his eyes raked down your body. His shaky hands fumbled with the waistband of your jeans, and you helped him slide the denim down your legs.

And then you lay bare beneath him, running your hands up and down his body after unbuttoning his shirt. Breathy sighs escaped him, turning into those whimpering moans when you unzipped his trousers and freed his cock from its constraint. Your hand wrapped around him, pumping him while you watched his reactions. He clenched his eyes closed, biting his lip to try and halt the noises that threatened to escape. Try as he might, though, the guttural sounds still fell from him with every forward press of his hips. Until finally he wrenched your hand away, pinning it by your head and positioned himself so his cock lay heavy against your pelvis.

“Keep doing that, cutie, and I can’t be held responsible for the mess,” he groaned into your ear. Despite the sun pouring down from the windows, and the heat building between your bodies, Rafayel’s touch was still cool and made you shiver when his hand made its way to your breasts. His lips laid a blazing trail of kisses down your neck, nipping your collarbone, against each breast as his face slipped between them.

His mouth latched onto those mounds, eyes watching you as his tongue lathed first one nipple, then the other. All the while, he trailed that hand down your body until you could feel those elegant fingers dipping into your slick folds. He curled them into you and you couldn’t help the gasped moan that escaped you. He continued until you gripped his arm forcefully to keep him from drawing you over the edge- much like he did when he removed your touch from him. His groan turned into a breathy chuckle and he removed his fingers.

“So wet for me already?” His eyes locked onto your face when he brought those fingers to his face and- fuck the moan he let loose when he tasted you.

He rolled his hips back, aligning himself against your entrance. Your heart thundered in anticipation, you squirmed beneath him and still he wouldn’t push himself into you. Though his eyes were half-lidded by desire, the smirk on his face told you he delighted in teasing you. But the blush spread across his cheeks, from ear to ear, showed that he wasn’t entirely unaffected.

You shifted your hips, pulling him forward with your legs at the same time. The barest of penetration sent a shudder through him and his hips jerked forward. Sheathed on you in one full motion, he dropped his head to your chest with the deepest, most guttural sound you’d ever heard from him.

He trembled with the effort to remain still, mistaking your gasp for that of one of pain. You hadn’t expected him to fill you so wonderfully, the length and girth of him was…fuck, it was like he was made for you. He crashed his lips against yours, pressing forward so impossibly deep. Your moan was devoured by him as he pistoned in and out, grinding against you on every full thrust. Pleasured sounds erupted from him, his voice rising to join yours in a duet of ecstasy. Your arms folded around his shoulders, fingers gripping hard into the loose fabric of his shirt and no doubt leaving wrinkles in their wake.

“How do you feel so good?” He whimpered against your neck before pulling away. He lifted himself onto an elbow, just enough so he could watch your body’s reaction to him. The way your tits bounced with each thrust, the gasping moan when he struck that sweet spot deep inside, the way your hands clenched into his shoulders. Every detail was absorbed by those oceanic depths that made up his eyes, half-lidded by desire.

“Mmmh, every time I slam my cock into you,” he said, punctuating his words with a particularly hard thrust, “I love seeing your body ripple like freshly disturbed water on a calm lake.”

“Rafayel,” you whimpered to him, his words driving straight to your core until you felt something building there. His body dipped and curved, making each of his thrusts seem like a twisting dance, with his voice ringing out into the wide open space around you. He leaned into you, each stroke of his cock accentuated by a moan that you swallowed alongside his tongue.

Soft words murmured into your ear when he buried his face into your neck, and it took a moment for you to dig yourself up from the haze and realize they weren’t english. You recognized the cadence as Lemurian from the few times he spoke his mother tongue around you, and the sound of those words sent a thrill shuddering through you, despite not knowing their meaning.

“R-Rafa..yel,” you breathed, his name broken by a gasp as he tilted your hips by wrapping an arm around your lower back.

“Yes,” he purred into your ear, the pace of his thrusts increasing.

“I’m- I,” you stammered out, not able to form a coherent thought through the building pleasure.

“Yes,” he moaned, his breathing growing erratic as he carried you both to that brink. His hand cradled your head against his chest while all you could do was cling to him with trembling limbs.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-“ he breathed, his sentence cut off by a loud, guttural moan that was ripped from him. You dipped over the edge immediately behind him, the pulsing throb of his cock a mirror to the flutter of your walls wrapped around him. His body, his hips, his breath all trembling, jerking as the climax steamrolled through him. You slumped back into the cushions beneath you, firmly clenching your legs around his trim waist so he wouldn’t dare leave you.

But he didn’t. Instead he let his full weight rest on you, and you reveled in the warmth you shared while basked in bright afternoon sunlight. He pulled back just enough so his eyes could roam your face. He brushed a stray strand of hair away, smiling at you so tenderly that it bordered on painful. He huffed a light, airy chuckle before resting his forehead against yours. With eyes closed, he took a moment to stabilize his breathing before kissing you softly.

“Beautiful,” he murmured to you. He laid in your embrace, absorbing warmth from you and the sun, and you welcomed his weight atop you.

The moment came to an end far too quickly. With one last peck of a kiss, he untangled himself from you and stretched. Your eyes drank him in, gliding over the lithe muscle of his physique before finding him…somehow still hard. You cleared your throat, having caught yourself staring, and sought to cover yourself.

“Not a chance,” he chuckled, yanking your shirt from your hand and tossing it aside. Before you could complain, he scooped you into his arms bridal style and carried you through the villa. His stride didn’t miss a single step until he deposited you in front of the large clawfoot bathtub that sat below windows that overlooked the sea.

While the tub filled, he went to work stripping out of the clothes he still wore. And he kept his eyes locked on you as he did. First the wrinkled shirt struck the tile floor, and then the trousers that were now stained with more than just paint. You almost hated how alluring you found his little tease of a show.

When the bath was done, he helped you into the steaming water and climbed in behind you. Now caged against him in a similar position that started this whole tryst, you relaxed fully into him

“Rafayel?”

“Hmm?”

“Earlier when we…earlier you said something that sounded like Lemurian. What was it?” His arms wrapped around you and you felt him kiss the top of your head.

“Something along the lines of ‘drown in the ocean with me’,” he said, his voice taking on a dreamy quality.

“How poetic,” you sigh contentedly.

Comfortable silence spread between you as he washed you, first your body and then your hair. Your heart stuttered at the care and attention he showered you with while in that bath. And that pulse soon made its way downward as those skilled fingers of his sunk into you and stroked you through another release.

And still he didn’t stop there. After drying your hair for you and carrying you to his bed, he made sure that his name was the only thing on your mind- the only thing you shouted to the vaulted ceilings of his bedroom. He also made his pleasure known by raising his voice with yours.

You were certain anyone standing on the street outside the villa would know exactly what was happening.

****

Later That Night

“What?” Rafayel’s groggy voice was impatient as he held his phone to his ear.

“Don’t hang up!” Thomas’s voice was the last thing he wanted to hear at that moment, and Rafayel grumbled.

“I’m hanging up,” Rafayel threatened, pulling the phone away from his ear to do just that. He glanced at your sleeping form, glad the phone hadn’t woken you like it had him. Granted, he’d worn you out so thoroughly that he would be surprised if you even woke before noon.

“I know you’re…preoccupied, but all I’m asking is that you don’t forget about the event the night after tomorrow.”

“Yeah, fine, fiiine- wait, what do you mean preoccupied? How would you know?”

Rafayel swore he could hear Thomas blush over the phone in the loaded silence that filled his question.

Thomas cleared his throat. “When you refused to answer the phone earlier, I stopped by the villa and…realized that you were…rather busy.”

“Definitely busy,” Rafayel chuckled, ending the call without so much as a goodbye to Thomas.

After all, he had somewhere he needed to be. Rafayel crawled back in bed beside you, giving the back of your neck a lingering kiss and gathering you up against him.

Sleep overtook him more quickly than he’d ever experienced during the night.

[himbodruid]

Cooking up a Rafayel fic next 👀

[himbodruid]

Ancient Instinct

Sylus x Reader

-:-breeding kink -:- Sylus loses control -:- consent king -:- primal, carnal, frenzied -:-

Present timeline mirror to A Dragon in Rut

INTENDED FOR 18+ READERS. MINORS DNI.

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“Hey…there’s something wrong with the boss.” Kieran’s voice was filled with concern, enough that you knew it wasn’t some weird ploy by Sylus to get you to visit. Plus, Luke was usually the one that called if Sylus wanted to casually bully you into visiting.

Your phone dinged and you quickly pulled it from your ear to view the message. It was a photo from Luke, showing the destruction of the front room of the base. Furniture was smashed, paintings torn from the wall, and other various decorations thrown about. The brandy decanter that’d been on a side table laid shattered on the ground, along with the two glasses that typically accompanied it.

“Kieran, what the fuck happened?” Worry sank into you as your eyes darted over the photo, hoping you wouldn’t find blood. There weren't really any signs of a struggle, just aimless chaos.

“We don’t know, we thought you might. He came home last night in a scary good mood and then halfway through the night, he just started wrecking the place.”

“We just had dinner and took a walk around the park, there wasn’t anything unusual about anything.” You tried thinking over the night and still couldn’t come up with an answer. “Where is he now?”

“He’s holed up in his room now, but we’re leaving. Before this temper tantrum, he asked us to go pick something up so there won't be anyone here.” There was a hint of uncertainty in Kieran’s voice, as though the twins were reluctant to leave Sylus in the state he was in.

“Okay, that’s fine,” you pinched the bridge of your nose. “I just got home from work, so I’ll be there in a bit to see if I can talk some sense into him.”

The call disconnected and you hastily packed a bag for an overnight stay in the N109 Zone. You were out the door and on your motorbike in a matter of minutes, speeding through the darkening streets to get to him as quickly as you could.

When you arrived, the house was eerily quiet. There was almost always something from Sylus’s collection of vinyls playing, the sound filtering through the halls from deep within the façade, but not tonight. It was dark, too. Not a single fireplace or lamp was lit. For all intents and purposes, the house was empty. But still you cautiously pressed onward.

“Sylus?” Your voice echoed in the house as you stepped gingerly over the debris, the light of your phone guiding your way. You made your way to his bedroom, knocking on the door.

“Sylus?” You called again when you cracked the door open. A single dim lamp let you see that the room was in similar disarray to the rest of the house. Still, there was no response, and you thought that maybe he’d left.

A feral-sounding growl emanated from the room. It didn’t sound human at all, and you wished you’d brought your weapon. Was all of the destruction the result of a wanderer? Your watch didn’t detect anything but-

“Leave.” Sylus’s voice was strained and…off. Instead of the usual gravel, there was a hint of something more, something beastly. You had heard stories of people turning into wanderers…was it possible that Sylus was a victim to this anomaly?

“Sy, is everything okay?” You dropped into his nickname out of habit, hoping that whatever had taken over his mind would recognize it.

“If you know what’s best for you, Kitten, you will leave right now.” His words echoed in your head, something familiar about them and this situation. You had brief flashes of tapestries and a cave before your mind returned to the present.

“Sy, are you hurt? The twins called me,” you said calmly, stepping further. You still couldn’t see him, but you could hear his ragged breathing coming from deeper in the room.

You had just cleared the archway that separated the sittig area from the sleeping space when you were pushed roughly against the wall. The side table holding the lamp teetered violently before falling over and taking the lamp with it, shattering the bulb. In the brief seconds the light was on him, you could see that Sylus’s pupils were blown wide and his face was flush. In the newfound darkness, his hot breath fanned across your neck in a series of shaky pants.

“Sylus, please. Tell me what’s wrong, you’re worrying me,” you say, raising your hand to cup his cheek. He made a sound like a barely restrained groan as he turned his face into your touch, inhaling deeply. He pressed his lips against your fingers, your palm, your wrist. You were certain that if he’d had a tail, it would be lashing about in agitation.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he growled. “I don’t think I can be very accommodating or gentle right now, Kitten.”

His warning rolled off him, and yet he still pressed further into you. He buried his nose into your neck, inhaling sharply and his lips trailed your pulse.

“S-Sy,” you gasped as his teeth scraped against your skin, in a spot that held an echo of an ache that no longer existed. Worry was very quickly being replaced with something else, something that pooled deep in your core.

“Mmh,” he purred, nuzzling his face against your neck again. “Your scent…steamy and sweet, like cherry wine. It’s been driving me insane all day.”

“Sylus, what-“ your question was cut off when he slanted his mouth across yours. All thoughts escaped you as he consumed you, plunging his tongue into your mouth the moment you opened for him. Worry and doubt fled from you and every sense was filled with him. You’d even forgotten why you arrived at the base in the first place as he hoisted you up against the wall. Your legs hitched up to wrap around his waist and your arms folded around his broad shoulders. He growled in approval, still devouring you as he pressed impossibly close. You could feel him standing at attention, hard and ready, and you wondered how long he’d been in that condition.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice a breathless whisper against your lips.

“Well, I am here. What’s going on with you, you’re worrying me.” You had to tug at his hair to get him to back off just the slightest bit. Even with your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, his face was too far cast in shadows. He was definitely still Sylus, though- you didn’t see any signs of him transforming into a monster. Just the raging hardon that was pressed against your core.

“Kitten,” he whined, dropping his head against your shoulder. His breathing was ragged, sharp inhales let go as shaky exhales. “This need I feel…it’s like I crave you on some primal level.”

He groaned when you tugged at his hair again, just a gentle pull to guide his mouth back to yours. His chest rumbled in what felt like a purr, the vibrations rolling through you to gather at your already wanting core. You gave your silent consent to him by pulling him closer, devouring his mouth in equal fervor. You gently caught his bottom lip between your teeth and his entire body shuddered.

“You should-” lips found your leaping pulse.

“Run away-“ his teeth scraped the slope of your neck.

“While you still can-“ he latched onto your collarbone, sucking at the spot with a hard draw to create a mark there. You gasped and squirmed as best you could while crushed against the wall by his bulk. The action ground your core against his length and he groaned when he released you from his mouth.

“Take me,” you breathed into him. “Use me. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

He groaned again and hauled you against him, pulling away from the wall to stumble blindly to his bed. There he dropped you onto the mattress, bathing you in the pale lights of the city filtering in from the window. His eyes were still cast in shadow, but you could still see the desire that darkened his expression. He was silent, save for the sound of his heavy breaths, as his hand stroked from calf to hip. Heat blazed from his touch, sinking through the fabric of the leggings you wore.

“Last chance, Kitten,” he growled, the sound rumbling low in his chest. Hands rested at your hip, teasing the waistband in silent question. Though you had already given explicit consent, he waited.

Rather than voicing your answer, and rather than giving in to what he so very clearly wanted, your hands found the collar of his shirt. With slow precision, you unbuttoned his shirt while keeping your eyes locked on his. His breath came in shuddering bursts, his body trembling as you teased him. It was a cruel test of his control, even knowing how close he was to snapping. But you couldn’t help yourself. There was something about seeing carnal desire written in every feature, in every motion, that made you want to take advantage of it.

A sharp inhale, followed by a shuddered exhale when your hand trailed down his newly exposed chest in a tantalizing sweep. He caught your hand before it could trail too far down his abdomen, bringing it to his lips and laying a kiss across your knuckles, and another at your wrist.

And then his lips found yours in a searing kiss to seal your agreement. There was nothing short of passion in the way he devoured you, the way he coaxed you open to tangle his tongue with yours. The heat of his mouth trailed along your jaw, down your neck, searing into any exposed skin he could access until he was stopped my the lapel of the button down shirt you wore. Without warning, he grasped the overlapped edges at the front and ripped your shirt wide open. Buttons flew in every direction and all you could do was muffle your moan with a gasp. Because damn, that show of strength was not one you expected to be so hot. You didn’t even care about the loss of the shirt, you wanted him to do it again.

With the obstruction out of his way, Sylus continued the forge a blazing trail of kisses down your body. The bandeau you wore as a bra was shoved down so that he could swirl his tongue around one nipple and then the other. Soft bites to the undersides of your breasts as he continued downward elicited a sharp inhaled gasp from you. His fingers slipped into the waistband of your leggings at each hip and then tugged, removing them and your underwear in one swift motion. Shyness coursed through you when you were finally fully bared to him, but you didn’t fight him when he held your legs in place, spread for him, so he could rake his eyes up and down you.

His lips found the inside of your knee, teeth finding your thigh, and then his face was dangerously close to your core. You swore you could see his eye flash a quick glow, but the next moments pushed all thoughts and reason from your head.

“I’ll start with your warmest spot…” he murmured against your skin. And then he dipped his head further, his breath fanning against your slick folds. “And until I’m finished, you’re not allowed to stop me.”

And then he descended, overwhelming your cunt with precise strokes of his tongue. You tried to twist away from him, crying out in pleasure, but he held you fast. His gaze bored into you, even as your hands sunk into the silky strands of his hair. He worked you until you were right on the precipice, but then pulled away with a devilish grin before you could crash over the other side. You whined at his unfair treatment until he set about removing his own clothing. Your own gaze devoured him the more he exposed of himself, and fuck he was perfect in every way.

He crawled languidly up your body and settled over you, reclaiming your mouth in a hard, punishing kiss. His knee wedged between yours, pushing and coaxing until you had enough thinking power to wrap yourself around him. This put the head of his cock right at your entrance, and you strained your hips towards him in a desperate bid for penetration. A dark chuckle escaped him when he realized what you were attempting.

“All mine,” he growled. Your knee was hooked over his elbow, one at first and then both as the kiss progressed to a carnal need. You were open fully to him now, and all that was left was for him to take that plunge.

And fuck, did he ever.

His hips snapped forward without hesitation, not even affording you the time to adjust to his girth and length. Not that it was necessary, not when he glided into you easily on the slickness of your arousal. He slammed against you, sinking into you to the hilt, and you couldn’t help the pleasured sound that escaped you. You folded your arms around his shoulders, nails biting into his skin when he tried to pull back. He didn’t get far before his hips jerked forward again, almost off their own accord.

It was as though there was some primal instinct that drove him into you so impossibly deep. You couldn’t understand where it came from, but fuck it felt good. The sensations of his cock slamming into you paired with the guttural moans erupting from him brought you back to that precipice rapidly. So rapidly that you barely had a moment's notice before you came apart around him. Pleasure zipped up your spine, turning your mind blank. All you could do was arch beneath him, crying out his name even as he continued to plunder your body.

He so easily folded you in half and set a pace that was bordering on punishing. What little control he could claim to have had in this moment was gone as he rutted into you. The sounds of your bodies colliding over and over rose to join your pleasured cries and his own grunting moans. You were glad the base had emptied due to his tantrum, because it would be very obvious what was happening should anyone step on the floor landing. Hell, even floors below could probably hear your loud, frenzied mating.

Feeling bold, maybe even mischievous, you lifted your mouth to the jumping pulse at his neck and scraped your teeth against it. Sylus let out a shaky, breathy moan and tilted his head away to grant you more access. With a grin, you bit down on that corded muscle that made up the slope of his neck.

His head fell against your chest with a deep moan, slamming his hips into you hard. Your bite turned into sucking on his neck, raising a mark to show your claim on him to anyone who would dare to look. And he also latched his mouth to your skin, drawing out the same kind of mark.

With a growl, he released your neck to observe the purpling mark he made. His gaze darted to yours, locking eyes with you as his thrusts increased to a breakneck pace. Pleasured expressions flitted across your face and you were almost certain that’s what he was looking for. And then you were arching into him again, crying out his name as your walls pulsed around him. The edge he had been chasing came and went, and he spilled into you with a guttural cry of his own. His hips jerked and slammed into you, his cock twitching as you milked him for everything he had.

He kissed you feverishly, and even as you came down from the high of release, he was still impossibly hard inside you. He rocked into you with small thrusts and you could feel his heart hammering beneath your touch.

“Fuck, how do you feel this damn good,” he whimpered against your lips. His body crashed against yours when you whimpered his name in response, over and over as he chased another release. It came to him with a sharp snap of his hips against yours, a shudder that swept through his entire body, and then more hot ropes of cum were flooding your cunt again.

And he still somehow wasn’t done with you.

A brief respite was all that was granted before he was thrusting deep into you again. At this point, you weren't even sure where you ended and he began. You were beginning to wonder if you would be leaking his cum for days after this encounter, even moreso when he slammed into you again with a guttural, primal cry of ecstasy. This one brought you over the edge with him, the feel of his cock pulsing and twitching inside you drawing release from you without warning.

Finally, after one more orgasm ripped through both of you, Sylus slumped against you. He nuzzled into your neck, soft kisses peppering your skin as you both attempted to regain your breath. He released your legs from his pressing hold and you ran your thighs down both sides of his body, delighting in the way he shuddered again.

You were both a sweaty mess, and you were certain the sheets needed to be changed once he slipped from your body. But he took his sweet time with you, giving gentle kisses that were a stark contrast to the primal possession he just exhibited. The weight and heat of him pressing you into the mattress felt like heaven, and you made a mental note to request this kind of skinship again in the future. Maybe with a little less mess. Or maybe with more, who knows.

You complained when he removed himself from the bed, grudgingly allowing yourself to be carried by him to the bathroom. You were exhausted and couldn’t work up the energy to feel embarrassed as he cleaned you up in the shower, but you were delighted in the way his hands massaged your scalp as he washed your hair. You nearly fell asleep when he blow dried your hair, making him have to carry you back to bed. He slipped you between fresh silk sheets and climbed in behind you, trailing kisses along the back of your neck and shoulders as he wrapped himself around you.

Safe and cozy, you fell into the deepest sleep you’d ever experienced.

And when you awoke to Sylus being gone, you couldn’t help but pout. Until he pushed through the door with a tray in hand, wrapped in his favourite brocade robe. He wordlessly set the tray down in front of you, and you saw it was filled with various crackers, cheeses, and fruits.

“Consider this my apology,” he said with a chuckle as you eagerly dug into the tray. He sat next to you in bed, allowing you to feed him. He was content enough to watch you enjoy the tray, but couldn’t say no when you turned to offer him bites.

“What was that all about anyway?” You ask finally, after working up the courage to not be shy. Sylus’s brows drew down in thought.

“I’m not entirely sure, I don’t think I’ve ever experienced something like that before. I came home to being surrounded by your essence, your scent, and it's like a switch flipped in my head. Like I was possessed. Like some sort of primal instinct that wouldn’t leave until I had you flat on your back with my cock driving into you.”

You blushed furiously at his casual words, occupying your hands and face with more food, so that you wouldn’t put those hands and your mouth all over him in some sort of retaliation. He chuckled darkly and leaned close, inhaling deeply at your neck.

“Mmh. I think I like my scent being intertwined with yours,” he growled into your ear.

Neither of you left his bed for a while following that, and you were grateful it was your weekend.

[himbodruid]

But They Cradled Me, Yes?

I saw a very sweet YCH by @linaswalaf [link as I think tumblr isn't linking their blog] and it put me in mind of Vena and Raphael, and the below quote, and I couldn't resist getting it.

Vena has always tried to be a good person, despite her own fiendish blood.

So why does she end up with Raphael?

She knows he's not a good man.

But those hands, with their sharp claws, that have tormented so many and destroyed so many lives - they cradle her.

Yes.

Lina did such an incredible job, it's an absolutely beautiful piece that I will treasure for a long time. 💜

[himbodruid]

A chaste kiss in thanks as he brings you a cup of tea, sitting beside you on the sofa. But one quick kiss is not enough and he goes in for another. And then another. Until you are in his lap, his arms caging you against the hard planes of his body while you devour each other.

The tea on the coffee table remains forgotten.

[himbodruid]

I wasn’t a huge fan of Rafayel at the start, but i’m starting to appreciate him more as a person

So i may end up actually writing more fics with him 0:

[himbodruid]

Genuinely want to like Caleb but i cannot handle his sonic villain-ass voice 😭

The VA is excellent! I just personally cant deal w it lmao

[himbodruid]

bioware: giggling and kicking their feet like school girls while giving us the most inconsequential bulge slider and nudity toggle.

larian: you will have sex. pick a penis. there are 5. you will see it at least once. probably more. this is a threat.

[himbodruid]

For my next Sylus x Reader fic, i fully recommend reading A Dragon in Rut, as there will be some parallels to it, as seen below!