#Sylus x you

[bibbysstuff]

Cuteness Aggression

[abyssyby]

welded by water

— you take the time to explore the base he offers you as your home, wandering through countless doors. but your favorite will always be the one that leads to him.

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: OR SYLUS SWIMMING IN A POOL 😩 sylus’s birthday is in 3 days & i’m unwell ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ he’s gonna be celebrated for the first time and my heart bleeds i love him sm. anyway! this idea was born out of that one ingredient story where he pulls u in the pool I SCREAMED its so romantic & thinking abt sylus in a private pool changed my life 😵‍💫 i hope you enjoy!! ❀-urs

sylus x reader | fluff, romantic tension, smoochie kisses, sylus in a swimming pool hehehe

tw: suggestive touches, very brief description of drowning

You knew the base was big. You barely found your way around to the training room, feeling as if the halls shift and shuffle like an enchanted maze. Usually, Sylus would show you around— lead you by the elbow pushing forward, clasp your hands together to pull you to a secret garden, hike you up his hips and carry you to his bedroom. 

But today you decided exploring would be a good thing. Equipped with Mephisto on your shoulder (a ceasefire between you two today), you walk down the dim crossroads and forks of the building with confidence. 

You’d asked permission before, to walk around and open doors. Sylus merely hummed, lips pressed to your shoulder, saying, “Everything I own is yours.”

You didn’t take that lightly. You refused— tried to— but you knew he was certain. Every word uttered from his lips weighs like a stone in water. You knew, in your heart, he would claim the world and say that all he has conquered is yours to take and use according to your will. 

So here you are, assuming responsibility. Knowing the kingdom where you lay claim. With your phone on the notes app open, you tap tap tap away at directions and take stock of the rooms there are in his— your home.

It’s fun to discover to an extent. Although, when all Mephisto can give you is a head nuzzle and a squawk, you quickly lose interest by the fourth armory. Light fingers trace a line down from the bird’s head to his beak, “Where’s Sylus?” 

Mephisto shakes, his metallic feathers fluttering like real ones except they sound like windchimes— extremely thin iron tendrils clinking against each other like rain. One of your many favorite things about him.

The bird takes off to fulfill your request. This time, he waits for you to keep up. He leads you past an artificial greenhouse, another showcase room displaying his many gem collections, the boxing gym and then…

Mephisto perches himself on the top of the doorway of two double doors. If you’re correct, you should be west of the house. Maybe a wall of the whole structure. Beyond the threshold could be taller windows and maybe the sky. Maybe a telescope. With all the things you’ve seen, an observatory wouldn’t be surprising.

“Bet you three nut-bolts it’s an observatory.” you say and lean your weight into your shoulder against the door. “Though, I never thought him to be interested in astrono…” 

The words fizzle and die on your lips as you’re kissed by a faint blast of moisture and the sound of splashing echoing loud through the hall. Your gaze is drawn upwards at the high ceiling reverberating the sound, and then across the molded crowns of the walls. You follow the pattern, bewildered gaze racing down the curves of the large french windows. The stars— no, the galaxies, splattered like paint onto glass. The moon shines through the glass, and reflects unto the rippling water of the swimming pool. 

The pool where Sylus swam with refined grace. Running through laps with no signs of tiring. Breaking the surface of the water for breath, and then going back under to pop up again on the other end.

You’re too engrossed by the look of it all— how a room with a pool can rival the size of a library, can also feel like an observatory. You file your initial guess as a win at that.

Carefully, you step inside. Almost as if afraid to disrupt the sanctity of it all. But you push forward, into the candle-like glow of the lamps around the pool.

You make your way to the edge, sit cross legged and watch him swim. Up and down. Fast, faster. Silently and then with more force. A faint beeping signals his stop, and he emerges from the water like a god that commands the seas. The moonlight shines on his hair and transforms it into liquid silver melting over his eyes. 

Warm and cool reflect of the wet planes of his body, creating an ethereal illusion glimmering an otherworldly glow. 

And his eyes, so dark and yet brighter than a dying sun, find you. Hold you captive in their focus. Your stomach caves and your chest burns at his perception. 

The little jolt he gets in his chest whenever he finds you staring at him like that never fails to fluster him. What a gift to see you in general, but he cannot deny that he loves when you seek him out. When you emerge from your world and join him in his. When he finds you sitting there, staring, waiting for him. 

He swims from the other edge of the pool towards you. A swan through the water with practiced grace. And when he reaches your dry little island, he pulls himself up by his forearms to greet you. “Done exploring, sweetie?” 

You swallow. Happy he is here, but you often tend to forget how he looks beneath all his designer refinery and comfy, steal-able clothes. Strangled, an “mhm” manages to wriggle its way out your throat. 

“Cat got your tongue?” he smirks, catching the way your pupils scramble down so quickly and clumsily over his body. Beneath his cool exterior, his heart spasms with endearment. “Kitten?” 

And he’s back— love of your life, most annoying man on the planet. Stupid, cocky look dripping along with the droplets of his face as he challenges you. You dig through your pocket and find a coin. 

Swift and easy, you toss it into the pool. It plops and leaves ripples right by his hip. A beat, and then he tilts his head at you in confusion. “Made a wish?” 

“Enriching this pool.” you explain. “It lacks gold, and I’ve always seen you as someone who should be swimming in it.” 

“Is that a compliment?”

“Don’t take it then.” you huff.

He chuckles, turning your upturned nose back towards him with wet fingers, making you scowl. He grins wider, “No, no. it’s just… not enough.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh. I’m sorry, would you like me to throw in a hundred in there?” 

He snorts. “Sweetheart, you can do better than that.”

“Your black card drowns then.”

He laughs, whole and soulful. And it echoes through the hall as this beautiful symphony. “None of that is enough to enrich the pool.” 

“Calling yourself broke isn’t as humbling as you think.”

“Darling.”

“What?”

“Hold your nose.” splash! In a single movement, he’s grasped your hand and pulled you into the water. Your arms flail, but his touch never leaves you as he hauls his soaked little dragon li up to the surface.

“Sylus!” you screech, finding his shoulders and pulling yourself flush against him for leverage. You didn’t expect it to be that deep. His arms wrap around you tightly as he chuckles. 

Truly, how delightful is your misery.

“Now it’s enriched.” he says slowly. Glancing down at your downturned lips and your angry brow. A request you recognize and melts you right away.

Your distance makes it easier to curl your fingers on the nape of his neck and tug his lips to yours in a slow, languid kiss. 

You breathe, “How’d you know my wish?”

He grins, pressing one, two, three kisses to your lips in rapid successions. He has no answer, but he lets you know that he wished for it too. 

You’re pulled further into the pool, his movements smooth and unhurried as he kisses you again. A man starved. The first drop of water in the desert. 

You cling tighter, worried when your feet can’t find the ground. But he guides your thigh up and taps the back of your knee so you wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Sweetie.” he murmurs, motions taking pause. He delights in the way you push more, chasing his halted kisses with your soft lips. “Mm, beloved.”

“Yes?” you almost whine, irked by the interruption. Every fiber of his soul frays and blows into the wind at the sound anyway.

“Look.” he says, only because he knows you’ll love it. Gentle fingers wrap around your chin, turning your head towards the length of the pool. With your stillness, the water follows suit, and reveals an endless mirror for the endless sky. 

“Oh,” your lips part, your eyes widen, and you get the urge to cling onto Sylus’s strong shoulders a little more. You press your cheek to his to marvel at the beauty he beholds you.

The flecks of lights dance on the warbling glass you swim in, the lunar touch transmutes the water into silk. The sky is on your body and both are doused in starlight. 

“Beautiful.” you breathe, touching the silver surface carefully, watching the tiniest waves disturb the image. 

“Yes.” he says, but his fingers find your cheek. And his eyes have never left your face, waiting and watching for this reaction exactly. Delighting in the cosmos as well— on your skin, in your eyes. He thinks: Gorgeous. Ethereal. Divine.

All mine. 

You turn to see his drunken gaze at you and smile at the implication of his words. Noses brush and kisses resume. 

“I think this is my favorite room.” you say, but your head is filled with him who holds you in his space.  

His amusement takes form in a laugh, low and suave. “Yeah?” 

You hum. Brush his hair back— bundles of moonlight slipping through your fingers— plant your palms on his chest, and lean your forehead on his. 

His warm hands travel up your back, pushing you impossibly closer to his warmth. Until you’re welded by the sparks of light in the sky. Until you meld together in a warm loving tangle of limbs and breath. He says, “It’s all yours.”

But amongst all the wealth, the treasures and the rooms he chooses to share with you, he is the only one you truly desire. Him, and your soul asks nothing more. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more sylus thoughts ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

thank you for reading!

[mellumi]

Nobody could have prepared you for the sweetheart that tall ass man with the deep ass voice would turn out to be.

How his intimidating eyes would soften. How he would hold you like you’re precious. How he would whisper goodnight. How he would shower you with gifts. How he would crave your kisses.

You really have Sylus wrapped around your pinky.

[warlockslovetomeow]

time flies...

when captain jenna assigns you to infiltrate an intel hub disguised as a jazz club in the N109 zone, you make one simple request to the universe: don’t let me run into my ex. that prayer goes unanswered. but others? you might just get lucky.

pairing: exbf!sylus x female reader warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, porn w plot, porn w feelings, exes w unresolved tension, possessive behavior / mild jealousy, loooots of banter, thigh rubbing build up, dirty talk, like filthy, bratty!mc, sylus wants you so bad, walk him like a dog sis, oral (m & f), eating from the back, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, mating press, cumming inside a/n: wrote this with one hand!!!!! i need this man so bad!!!!!!!! wc: 5.9k

"....located in the N109 zone. any questions?"

and then she shot you. captain jenna—your fierce and until approximately five seconds ago, loyally trusted commander—had just fired her pistol at you within point-blank range.

you swallowed the bullet lodged in your throat before responding, reaching deep within yourself to appear as neutral as possible.

"no, captain!"

damn it all. of course your previous experience in the N109 zone would put you at the top of the list for this mission. unknown to your captain though, you'd rather chew on knives than risk a chance encounter with your ex boyfriend.

but since the intel she's assigned you to look into involves a new strain of protocore tech that mimics wanderer signatures, making it nearly undetectable and dangerous for all factions, it was high priority. and unfortunately for you, the same thought was likely running through his mind.

it'd been months since your messy breakup, months since you've spoken to each other. he wouldn't dare try anything again, especially in a compromised place like a covert jazz club.

when it came to sylus, however, you knew better.

you run through the briefing details once more in your head. this intel hub operates like most others in the N109 zone: secretive and precise. a surefire way to get yourself killed in places like these is by looking confused or unsure.

your orders are to tell the bouncer you're searching for a man wearing green inside, the color being code for the information category. according to association intel, green signifies everything related to protocores. once inside, you're to head to the bar and order an emerald isle, the contents being a gin and mint martini. the mint serving as a tip-off that you're looking for fresh, new information.

from there, you're basically on your own. the guise of a jazz club is intentional, patrons are to fraternize with their drinks visible in hand, searching for people with similar colored ones. once you find someone, you relay what drink you ordered, and if they have information on such a topic, they'll take a sip from your drink.

the catch? no refills allowed. if the person has irrelevant information, you've wasted part of your opportunity.

you saunter up to the entrance of the club, your black maxi dress shaping your body perfectly and almost causing you to disappear into the low lighting, exactly as planned. if the situation were to get threatening, your dress wouldn't be a risk.

however, this mission required you to look enticing while eyes were on you. the low, fishtail back and thin straps were sure to prompt onlookers to approach you and chat. you'd keep them in line, if not with words then with your loaded gun strapped firmly to your thigh.

you smile sweetly at the bouncer, saying everything required and getting inside without breaking a sweat. the club is busy, but not overwhelmingly so. you do a full room scan and mentally note that there are around 8 people with green drinks in hand—all at different levels of fullness. after you order the emerald isle, you make your way to the floor.

time to hunt.

the moment you walked in, sylus choked on his drink.

of course you'd be the one sent here. of course the same woman who hadn’t so much as looked at him in months would stroll back into his life with a drink coded for protocore intel.

the very thing that blew everything apart.

you hadn’t changed a bit. still walked like you owned the room. still wore danger like perfume. and those straps clinging to your body? a challenge written in silk. that dress wasn’t for him, he knew that, but he couldn’t help but wonder if some part of you knew he’d be here. if some part of you wanted him to look.

hell, he was looking. couldn’t stop, actually.

he leaned back in his seat on the second-floor balcony, his eyes locked on your every move through the dim haze and low lights. moments ago, he’d been halfway through a trade with the scrawny male seated across from him. but now, the man might as well be invisible. sylus couldn’t care less about anything that didn’t involve looking at you.

he watched you flash that fake, pretty smile—the one you wore while you were on missions. no one else would know the difference. but he did.

when he saw the color of your drink, he almost laughed. no doubt you were here for information surrounding the new wanderer mimicking tech. the irony twisted like a blade between his ribs.

you hated him for hiding his connections to protocore manufacturing. said it was betrayal. said you couldn't trust someone who kept secrets like that. but you never saw the full picture. he was protecting you from yourself.

you didn’t understand, maybe you still don't, but he hadn’t been lying to hurt you. he knew what getting you involved would cost. he knew you, and the second you found out the truth about what exactly onychinus was sponsoring, it'd drag you into the depths of the mystery surrounding your aether core. he knew you wouldn't be able to stop pursuing it all, no matter what it did to you.

and now, here you were. wading waist-deep into the same fire he lost you to.

sylus clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around his glass. he should look away. should let you do what you came here to do.

but then some lowlife in a tacky rust-colored suit slithered up to you, requesting a dance. he was too close. acted too familiar. sylus watched your smile shift into something tight and forced. the kind you used when you were baiting someone.

no.

he wasn’t going to just sit back. not when you were back in his orbit, whether you meant to be or not. and not when he still wanted you just as badly as the day you walked away.

this had to be some sort of punishment. you must’ve pissed off the universe in a past life to end up pressed against a man wearing the ugliest rust-colored suit known to mankind. he smelled like sweat masked with cheap cologne. every inch of him screamed sleaze. yet, here you were, letting him touch you. because, of course, the filthiest bastard in the room had the most valuable intel so far. and with your drink nearly empty, you couldn’t afford to cut the dance short.

his grimy left hand rested on your waist—drifting lower with each passing second—while his other clung to his green drink like he planned to propose to it before the night was over.

"...only sold to the 1%, then trickling downwards to whoever can afford those prices. say darling, you oughta come home with me tonight. there's a lot more i can tell ya, you know, in private." his voice dripped like oil, and as he leaned in to whisper the last part, his fingers slid beneath the open hem of your back.

you resisted the overwhelming urge to pull out your pistol and really show him something private.

instead, you forced a breath and put on a tight smile. a smile that was nowhere near reaching your eyes, barely a curl on your lips. then you steered him back to the reason you were even still breathing the same air. “who are they buying from? is there no logo? no trace of manufacturing?”

“not a thing,” he said, grinning like he thought he was clever. “but I did hear some old abandoned buildings around the N109 zone have been lighting up lately. enough space to test high risk tech in those.”

you could barely hold back your eye roll. the way he spoke, like you owed him something just for opening his mouth, grated on every nerve in your body. and he looked at you like he planned to collect on that imagined debt in full.

“where’s the closest one?” your tone had a sharp edge now. his fingers kept wandering, and your patience was running thin. you needed this conversation over. and this man dead.

"hmm? not far from here. i'd say about—”

he didn’t get to finish.

a tall figure stepped between you and the creep, sliding a hand onto your waist in place of the one you'd been seconds from snapping in half. you didn’t need to look. didn’t need to double check.

you could recognize sylus by touch alone.

“mind if I cut in?” he said smoothly, his voice low and razor-sharp. “this man appears to be more thirsty than classy.”

you sighed. worst timing possible.

"no, thank you. that’s the idea,” you replied coolly, but it didn’t matter.

sylus had already made his move. the shorter man stumbled back, face ghost-white, mumbling something that sounded like an apology—or maybe a prayer—before scurrying off as if sylus had just rearranged his face with a look alone.

then, he turned to you.

he didn’t speak at first, only stared. like he couldn’t breathe, like he couldn’t believe you were real. his gaze swept over you, slow and starving, as if he were trying to memorize every inch before you vanished again. not a trace of a smirk, just a man who’d been sucker punched by the sight of you.

but eventually, sylus flipped the mental switch. he stepped closer, hand outstretched, voice as smooth as sin, "this place was dangerous before you walked in. now, it doesn’t stand a chance.”

you stared at him, unblinking, letting the silence hang just long enough to make your point. the theatrics didn’t impress you, but the corner of your mouth twitched anyway, a reflex you hated. with another sigh you stepped forward, your hand sliding into his like muscle memory.

before you could get a word in, sylus reached for the drink still in your hand. his fingers brushed yours, unhurried and deliberate, as he took it from you without asking to silently relieve the burden.

his other hand found your waist and you let yours rest on his shoulders, the familiar feel of him under your fingertips sending a shiver through you.

it was dangerous how easy it was. how quickly your steps matched the rhythm. how naturally your body leaned into his, like the time apart had never happened. the jazz music swelled around you and you both moved with it like something practiced in another life.

then his mouth was near your ear, voice dipping low as the air between you tightened. “careful. you dance like someone who remembers exactly how I feel.”

“i dance like someone who can’t wait for this song to end," you shot back, your tone sharp enough to cut.

"no," he said, like he knew something you didn't. "you dance like someone pretending the space between us isn't pulling you in.” 

a tense beat passed.

"poetic. a bit too drab for my taste, unfortunately."

“you used to like the way I spoke when it was your name in my mouth.” his voice danced down your spine like a dirty promise, hot enough to make your stomach twist.

you hated it. hated that he still had this hold on you. that months later, you still reacted.

you bit back, voice steady and full of edge. “and you used to listen when I said no.” 

“you never said no when it was just the two of us.”

his tone was so unbothered, so undeniably sylus. you hated how your chest ached at that. you'd buried that version of you with him a long time ago. or at least you thought you had.

you glared at him, trying to telepathically communicate how badly you wanted him to burn.

the song then faded into a slower, darker tune. like even the music knew how deadly this was becoming.

you stepped back, but only a hair. not enough to give him the satisfaction. just enough to remind yourself you still could.

his gaze followed the retreat like it hurt him to let you go. “how did you find out about this hub? did you come alone?”

you didn’t answer. instead, you turned from him. a clean, intentional break. you were done letting him circle you like he still had the right.

but his fingers caught your wrist before you could fully disappear from him again, placing your hand back on his shoulder.

“an emerald isle,” he murmured. “what intel are you here for?”

you looked him dead in the eyes, annoyance painting your features. “sooo many questions. do you always get this chatty when you're trying not to look desperate?"

god, he missed you. missed when you got like this with him. he loved nothing more than when you challenged him, rough and biting.

“just concerned, sweetie. especially if what you know brought you here…" his smile curled as he spoke. "…looking like this.”

“that's too bad. you don’t get to play protective anymore. that role expired." your voice came out flat and cold, like you had rehearsed the indifference.

“mmm. but it seems your feelings for me haven’t, kitten.”

“funny. i don’t remember ever admitting I had them.”

“no? then why are your thighs tensing like they remember everything?” 

your breath hitched. not loud, but enough to make you furious with yourself. heat flushed up your throat, mortification and memory colliding in the worst possible way. you hated that he noticed. hated more that he was right. that your body reacted before your mind could catch up.

you didn’t let the silence stretch. couldn’t let it stretch.

"you're in my way."

sylus tilted his head, the smirk on his lips making your blood boil. “and you’re in my thoughts. every day. every night. doesn’t feel fair, does it?”  

“what’s not fair is how your ego somehow survived our breakup.”  you spoke through gritted teeth, still recovering from his last blow.

“you don’t have to say it," he was grinning now—the bastard. "i can feel it.”  

“what, your neediness?”  you practically spit back, the tension between you thick enough to choke on.

“yours, actually. you’re shaking, kitten."

“it’s rage.”  

“mmm. is that what we’re calling want these days?” 

before you could fire off something scathing, sylus wrapped his fingers around your wrist again and this time he pulls. not hard, just enough to close the last of the distance. chest brushing chest, breath mingling in the small space in between your lips.

“you think I don’t know that look in your eyes? that tilt in your hips when you dance near me? you want distance, yet your body keeps inching closer," his voice was low, fever laced into every syllable. "what am I to believe?” 

“i'm working, sylus. this—” you gestured between your bodies, the closeness, the feelings, all of it. “—can’t happen again."

his smirk fades, but not into hurt. into hunger. “then tell me to stop.”

you don't.

his fingers trace the underside of your jaw, measured and daring.

“say it." he murmurs. "say stop.” 

but you don't. you can’t. your lips part, but not for protest. then—

“is there a problem here?” a voice cuts through from behind, snapping the spell. a man steps between you and sylus, eyes flickering between your faces. “doesn’t look like you want to be with him, sweetheart. just say the word.” 

“step back,” sylus says before you can even breathe, his tone icy. possessive. “you’re in her space. that’s the problem.”

the man falters, visibly unsettled by the sharp gleam of red in sylus’ eye. “i’m sure she’d prefer someone who doesn’t drag her around the dance floor.”

sylus smirks at him, deadly calm. “she’s exactly where she wants to be.”

it seems the man recognizes onychinus' leader, because that’s all it takes. the man backs off without another word.

you let the silence settle, pulse still fluttering from both the interruption and everything before it.

“jealousy doesn’t suit you,” you tease, turning your head just enough to draw his eyes back to your mouth.

“neither does watching you pretend you don’t miss me,” he shoots back, matching your quip as he always excelled at doing.

“i don’t.”

he smirks. “liar.”

your voice sharpens. “we’re broken up, sylus. don’t you recall?”  

his gaze doesn’t waver. “i remember everything. your laugh. your skin. the way you used to—”

“don’t,” you cut in, voice like a blade. “you don’t get to say those things anymore.”

he leans in anyway, close enough that you can taste the desire radiating off him.

“then stop looking at me like that.”

“like what?” you hiss.

his mouth curved with mischief and warning. “like you want me to follow you upstairs.” 

you blinked, heart slamming so hard it hurt. and for one breath, you let yourself feel it, all the pain he left behind.

then you swallowed it whole, and drowned in him.

as you both slipped out of sight from the crowded dance floor, sylus tugged you closer, kissing you like he’d been starved. your bodies stumbled up the stairs, hands tangled and desperate, a hunger between you that neither could deny. he pressed you against the wall at the top of the stairs, his lips trailing down your neck, each kiss an act of claiming. you felt his eagerness press against you and your head swirled deliciously.

“i can feel how badly you want me,” you taunt, chest rising as you fight for composure. “want me so bad you’d drop to your knees if I told you to, wouldn’t you?”

"you could make me beg for you. and more." he pressed into you, harder now. his body solid against yours as the air became thick with want. “but we both know you want to be the one on your knees." 

you pull off him with a smirk of your own, opening the closest door and leading him inside. “you think you’re the only one who knows how to play this game?”

once you both stepped into the room, you shove sylus back onto the bed. his handsome face tipped up at you from where he landed, eyes cocky and smug despite being beneath you.

"i’m the one who taught you how to play, sweetie.” 

you lock the door behind you with a click, leaving him on the bed to watch every calculated move you made.

you turn to face him. your steps unhurried, hips swaying like a predator with a plan. his gaze devours you as you reach the center of the room and spin your back to him.

the low hem of your dress dips scandalously, held up only by two delicate straps. you slide one down, then the other. the fabric sinks down your body, every inch a show for the man breathing heavier by the second.

the fabric hits the floor and you step out of it and cross the room. sylus sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread like he's trying not to burst at the sight of you.

you drop to your knees before him, fingers ghosting up his thighs.

you undo his belt like it’s second nature, because it is, but this time there's no soft glances or whispered promises. only tension, sweat, and the sharp edge of something darker.

you shift him out of his underwear and he's already leaking, throbbing for you. you pull him out slow, eyes locked on his like a dare. despite taking him plenty of times before, his huge length still intimidated you. and made your mouth water.

then, with his hard cock still in your hands, you tilt your head back and loll your tongue out with a dirty smile.

“fuck,” he breathes, before leaning forward and spitting directly into your open mouth.

you swirl it around with your tongue, exaggerated and filthy, before letting it drip from your lips straight onto the tip of his cock. you stroke him with it, twisting your wrist just right, watching him twitch and strain in your grasp as you spread the mess down him.

sylus manages a breathless smirk. “has our time apart made you dirtier?” his voice is wrecked. “or have you missed me this much?”

you drag your tongue up his length, lingering on his sensitive vein, then pull back with a wet pop. the action drives him wild, and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning.

your eyes gleam with something wicked. “you’re so much more attractive when you’re moaning for me instead of talking.”

your lips part again, this time to take him in painfully slow. you twirl your tongue around his tip, the taste so familiar it makes your eyes roll back. the mix of fluids slick his cock all the way down to the base, your lips shiny and swollen around him.

then you sink lower and he can’t stop staring. can’t stop twitching in your mouth like he’s about to blow from just the sound of your gag. his hips jerk when the tip hits the back of your throat, and you pull off again with a sinful smirk.

“you always get so twitchy when i barely touch you,” you purr, stroking him with lazy precision. “what happened to that control you're so proud of?”

his jaw tightens at your jab, hands gripping the edge of the bed so hard his knuckles go white. while he did enjoy you challenging him, you were working his last nerve.

you lean in once more, smiling with satisfaction at his reaction. your movement light on his aching cock, suckling and teasing, never committing. your hands move unhurried, your mouth even slower, and his whole body is trembling from restraint.

sylus lets out a low, ruined growl. “keep teasing me and you'll regret it, kitten.”

“is that a threat or a promise?” you whisper, licking along the underside of his shaft. “because it sounds a lot like begging to me.”

his hands tremor like he wants to grab you, but you stay in control. for now.

you now take him with vigor, enough to make him moan, then stop. again. and again. always just a little more, never enough. he's throbbing in your grip, leaking like he could cum from this alone.

“fuck,” he mutters. “you’re gonna drive me insane.”

you pout with faux innocence. “what, this?” you give him a long, slow lick, eyes full of mockery. “close already?”

and then he snaps.

in a blur of motion, sylus grabs you by the hair, pulls you up, and throws you onto the bed, flat on your back.

you barely have time to gasp before he's on you, all passion and vengeance. he slides between your thighs, yanking your panties off like they personally committed your aggravating acts.

“you wanna tease?” he snarls, breath hot against your inner thigh. “then fucking take it.”

his mouth hovers just above your dripping cunt, teasing you now. his turn to play. he breathes against your folds, lips barely brushing, just enough to make you whimper.

“what’s wrong, sweetie?” he taunts, voice thick with revenge and lust. “thought you liked going slow.”

you reach down and twist your fingers in his hair, yanking his face into you with a growl of your own.

“eat. or i will ride your face and make you regret waiting.”

sylus keens at your words, tongue diving in like a man starved. he loved when you got rough with him, turning him on like no other.

you moan right back at the feeling of him, legs already starting to shake. there's no more teasing in his movements, he’s messy, frantic, seemingly obsessed. his mouth is somehow everywhere at once, like he’s trying to drown in your taste.

you writhe under him, losing every ounce of control you once held. and he doesn’t stop. not even when your thighs close around his head. not even when you scream his name.

there’s no finesse, just open mouthed hunger, his tongue and lips on a mission to touch every part of you. then he adds two fingers, slipping in deep and curling them just right, hitting that spot you never could on your own. you gush around them, soaking his hand, and he groans like the mess is a gift.

you clutch the sheets below you, the sensation too much and not enough. every time his nose nudges your clit, every hit of his perfectly angled fingers, your body jolts. the bed creaks below you as he pushes you closer and closer to that high you've been chasing for months. but nothing, nothing, ever touched you like this.

your orgasm starts barreling toward you and right when you're on the cusp of mind numbing pleasure—

he slows down.

right as your toes curl and your thighs tense, he pulls back. you whine, strung out and soaked.

you’re about to beg when you notice the bed is still shaking. not just from you.

sylus is grinding against the mattress. hard and desperate.

you let out a breathless, evil little laugh. “you’re humping the bed? i’m the one getting eaten alive, and you’re the one falling apart?”

you should’ve stopped there. you really should’ve.

but you smirk, lift your hips so you can meet his eyes, and whisper, “what, couldn’t wait your turn?”

his face changes at that, deep and pissed, then he grabs your hips and flips you onto all fours like you weigh nothing.

“should’ve filled your throat with cum to shut that mouth,” he hisses into your ear.

before you can reply, his hands are spreading you open and his mouth is back on you. from behind.

his tongue laps at your entrance, filthy and unrelenting, while his fingers sneak down to bully your clit in ruthless circles. your arms give out at the same time as your legs begin to buckle, but he doesn’t let you fall. one strong arm wraps around your waist whilst the other pleasures you without mercy.

you greedily grind your ass into his face and he groans at the action like he wants to live between your thighs. you clench around his tongue, fluids mixing together, and the mess just spurs you on further. spurs him on further. the building liquids slide down your legs, coating his face and all he wants is more.

you’re about to fall apart all over again when he pulls away in one fluid motion.

your body collapses onto the bed, shaking from the sudden change. you roll onto your back, dazed and desperate.

sylus wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, not even trying to be subtle, and spreads your legs wide. his eyes drink in the sight, as if your glistening pussy was some divine offering.

you pout, fingers drifting toward your clit, desperate to finish what he stole. but sylus grabs your wrist, pins it above your head, and lines himself up with you. his neglected cock dripping with precum as he slides it between your folds.

you bite your lip at how heavy and huge he is. the head alone makes your thighs tremble.

then he leans down, mouth right against your ear.

“you’re not cumming,” he murmurs, slow and cruel, “unless it’s on my cock.”

your breath stutters. it’s been months since you took him, months since your body was trained for that stretch. he was so big, it hurt. you swallow hard, pride burning at your own words.

"just… not too fast,” you say, trying to stay steady. “okay?”

he tilts his head, mocking you with that fake-soft voice. “of course, sweetie. whatever you need.”

he kissed your forehead like the lover he once was.

then slammed his full length inside you.

your mouth opens in a silent scream. he’s thick, obscene, and the sudden stretch makes your vision fade out. you claw at his biceps, nails digging in, but he doesn't care.

“you thought that bratty little attitude was gonna earn you favors?” he grits out, voice strained and dark with desire.

he pulls out almost completely, then drives back in deeper. harder.

“be good and take it.”

your mind is reeling, your body even worse. you're clenching around him like a vice, almost trying to force him to slow down. he doesn't.

in fact, he lets go of the hand pinning yours above your head and grabs your hips instead, tilting them up and fucking into you faster. he’d force you to take it. you always liked it rough.

"just needed some dick to shut you up, hmm?" he stated, each word hitting with the rhythm of his thrusts.

you almost choke. he was drilling so deep it felt like he was aiming for your throat. his hand then slid over your stomach and pressed down, and he grinned above you like a smug devil he is when he felt himself moving inside you.

"shut up—nghh—'n fuck me harder." you manage out, your tone not matching the challenge in your voice even slightly.

your body remembered him now. that stretch, that angle. you were soaking him, walls practically begging for him. his cock slipped in and out like he owned it. because he does.

sylus realizes it too, because he leans in, pushing impossibly deeper before gloating in your face. "this pussy missed me. she’s crying for it."

you try to snap something back, something sharp, anything to bite into his smugness. but it dies on your tongue the second his hips grind into yours. his cock drags deep and slow, just once, and your whole body locks up. the stretch is somehow overwhelming and perfect. like you were made for him.

your fingers scramble over his back, clinging to him for stability, but all you can manage is a strangled, “fuck, sylus—”

his rhythm falters, just for a second, but you feel it. his gaze snaps to yours, suddenly serious. his body stills then, cock twitching inside you. it seemed like he was searching for something in you that he was too scared to name.

he leans in once more, but this time not to hit deeper. to look at you, really look. his breath fanned your lips, your cheeks, your throat.

"you missed me too," he says. no question in it.

you want to lie. bite back with something petty and proud. but your pussy clenches around him like it’s answering for you, loud and shameless.

your chest heaves as you stare up at him. your throat aches from holding back all the things you swore you’d never say.

and still, you whisper it.

“yours.”

sylus goes rigid at your confession.

you feel a shudder pass through his entire body. he clenched his jaw while his hands trembled against your waist, grip tightening. then something breaks. he manhandles your thighs up and wide, body looming over yours.

“say it again.” he demands in between guttural grunts. “say you’re mine.”

you wail at the change in position, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes and pleasure twisting in your belly like a storm. “'m yours. fuck—sylus, i’m yours.”

his chest pins your thighs to your torso, folding you nearly in half. the angle makes your head dizzy, an entirely new world of bliss. you’re split open, completely at his mercy, and your cunt pulses around him like it knows it’s where it belongs.

“fucking say it while I ruin you.” his voice cracks, hips pistoning forward again and again. he’s completely unraveling, thrusts messier now, more desperate.

you chant it like a mantra. “yours, yours, yours—”

“look at you,” he grunts, sweat dripping from his jaw onto your chest. “taking me so good now. tight little pussy just needed a reminder.”

his pace is brutal and unrelenting. your thighs shake, pinned wide open, helpless to do anything but feel every inch of him. be filled by him.

his eyes don’t leave yours. there’s hunger there, but you also notice something raw too. that longing feeling you thought only you felt.

sylus dips down, lips brushing yours, and murmurs against your mouth. “you really gonna go back out there like this?”

you blink at him, dazed. “huh?”

“full of me,” he snarls, hitting deep enough to knock the breath from your lungs. “my cum soaking your thighs while you try to finish your mission. think you can keep it in?”

you moan loudly at his filthy words and he grins against your cheek.

“say you want it. say you want me to fill you up.”

you don’t even hesitate.

“yes please! sylus, want it!”

“say it right.” he commands, snapping his hips so hard the bed frame groans. “tell me who you belong to.”

“you! ’m yours—fuck—please cum inside me!”

he loses it.

his grip tightens bruisingly on your hips, dragging you down to meet every savage thrust. the drag of his cock is erratic, his body shuddering above yours.

“gonna fill you up,” he pants, “make you mine all over again—shit!—you’re gonna leak for me, kitten. gonna walk outta here with my cum dripping down your thighs and everyone knowing you let me claim you.”

the possessiveness in his voice sends you spiraling. your pussy clenches tight, fluttering around him like your body’s already begging for it. the tension in your belly coils impossibly tight. every hard, brutal thrust inside you making your vision blur.

“sylus” you gasp, pitch high and breathless, “close, please—”

“you wanna cum on my cock?” he asked, slamming into you with the full force of his weight. “wanna milk me while I fill this cunt up?”

you nod frantically, tears spilling down your cheeks. “yes, yes! please, wanna cum with you, wanna feel you!”

sylus drops his head to your shoulder, teeth scraping your skin. "go on, then. show me how bad you want me."

and you do.

you shatter with a loud cry, your orgasm hitting like a wave that floods your senses. you clench tight around him in spasms that make your back arch off the bed and your fingers dig into his back to anchor yourself. you sob his name as your pussy pulses around him, your entire body wrung out and shaking.

“that’s it,” he moans deeply, his rhythm stuttering as your walls clamp down. “so tight—”

and he’s right there with you.

with a sharp groan, he drives himself deep to bury every inch inside. his hips jerk and his cock twitches as he spills into you, hot and thick. his voice breaks as he utters your name out like a prayer. one hand squeezes your thigh tight while the other trembles on your waist, trying to hold himself together while he fills you up.

you’re shaking, panting into his shoulder, pulling him close as his warmth spills into you. he doesn’t pull out. not yet. just stays there, breathing ragged against your skin, forehead pressed to yours.

your body trembles with aftershocks, cunt fluttering weakly around his cock, milking every drop from him like your body refuses to let him go.

“fuck,” he whispers, voice almost gentle. “you were made for me.”

you’re still dazed, your brain lagging behind the high. you can feel him dripping out of you already, warm and slick between your thighs.

he leans in, brushing a kiss to your temple, like the lover he is.

“you better squeeze those legs shut when you leave,” he murmurs, cocky smirk creeping back in. “i don’t want anyone seeing what’s mine.”

a/n(2): first time writing sylus, hope i did him justice >_< likes and reblogs r super appreciated, lmk your thoughts on this!!!

@mcdepressed290 here is your tag friend as requested. hope u enjoy!!!

[xinnn6]

saying we can leave yet not letting go of our hand, and when we ask him about it, he cited being ‘sleepy’ and letting go of our hand is ‘too much work’ 😭🥺

it’s so endearing, how he’s so much of a action-speaks-louder-than-words kinda guy 🥺❤️

he likes and enjoys our presence but he never directly tells us, simply showing through his actions most of the time

[rika-mmendmethings]

Baby Boss-Man (or Boss Baby?) l Sylus

Summary: One misfire of another one of Philip's odd inventions and Sylus is aged back to a five-year-old bundle of chaos version of himself. But as you try to survive his oversized cuteness, you can't help but catch baby fever. When the antidote arrives, you're sure that you'll be rid of those thoughts. The only difference is that Sylus intends to make them real.

Warning(s): Tooth-rotting fluff, baby fever, temporary age regression, written with female reader in mind, might die from the cute aggression you get from five-year-old Sylus, short and sweet, suggestive at the end, cheesy, kissing, pet names like kitten used.

Word count: 2.6k

Now playing: Honeypie by JAWNY

Notes: Based on this request. I'm a bit late but as promised here it is. I felt like I was writing Feline Hexes all over again because the fluff surely measured up to that one. Had me rolling in the feels. Okay enough yapping, hope y'all enjoy it especially you bestie @sylusgirlie7 ♥

You had accompanied Sylus to the Odd Workshop since you needed to have your hunter weapon modified anyway. Flashing a polite smile at Philip in greeting, you handed over your gun for him to begin his work. You took a seat nearby, exchanging idle conversation with Philip while keeping an eye on Sylus from your periphery as he wandered around the workshop, poking at things with curious fingers.

Once Philip completed the modification, you tested your weapon and hummed in satisfaction — the result was flawless. Just as you were about to thank him, a loud buzz shattered the eerie quiet that usually hung in the air.

You whipped your head around, eyes scanning for Sylus, but he was nowhere in sight. Alarmed, you called out, “Sylus?”

“Yeah?” came a small, chirpy voice.

Your gaze dropped to a heap of familiar-looking clothes on the floor. You gasped when a tuft of white hair peeked out from beneath them. Wide, crimson, doe-like eyes stared up at you — and in a shocking moment of realization, you understood: it was Sylus. Your boyfriend. But now, in the body of a five-year-old.

“Help!” he squeaked, little arms flailing beneath the pile of oversized clothing. “I’m stuck!”

You quickly bent down and freed him, lifting his tiny form out of the tangled garments — leaving behind his shoes, belt, and pants, which were now comically too large for him. The shirt hung from his frame like a cloak, sleeves completely swallowing his arms. Despite the confusion, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Gently, you wrapped the lower half of his shirt around his legs and rolled up the sleeves, messily tying it together to make it wearable. You cradled him in your arms, cocooned in his own shirt.

Philip approached, his face sheepish as his eyes flicked between the smoldering wreckage of a device on the floor and the now miniaturized Sylus in your arms. You could practically see steam rising from Sylus’s tiny ears in outrage.

Scratching the back of his neck, Philip offered a half-hearted explanation, “That was... um, my latest invention. I created a fluid designed to revert a plant to its seed form — or a butterfly back to a caterpillar. I didn’t realize the jet injector would actually work on humans too…heh.”

Philip’s words only seemed to further ignite Sylus’s temper. You noticed the telltale shimmer of his Evol — the familiar red energy crackling around his tiny form, pulsing with irritation. You gently patted his head, offering what little comfort you could, then set him carefully on his feet, telling him to go somewhere so as to not risk the chances of Philip being evaporated. Sylus reluctantly agreed and trotted away after promising to not touch anything else. 

You turned back to Philip, exhaling a slow breath. “The longer he stays like this, the angrier he gets,” you said. “Do you have anything that can reverse the effect?”

Philip tapped his chin thoughtfully, eyes drifting toward the remnants of his failed invention. “Nothing at the moment,” he admitted. “But I have been developing a counter-agent — something to reverse the regression effect. I’ve got a few prototypes I can begin testing right away. If I manage to create a viable solution, I’ll have Luke and Kieran deliver it to you.”

“How long do you think that’ll take?” you asked, brow furrowed.

“Give me five, maybe six hours,” he replied. “I’ll work as quickly as I can.”

You nodded in understanding. Five to six hours with a miniaturized Sylus… manageable. Hopefully.

After exchanging a few more words with Philip — mostly warnings and a half-hearted apology from his side — you turned to look for your pint-sized lover. What greeted you nearly made you choke on a laugh.

You had turned your back for five minutes.

He’s drawn an elaborate chalk mural on the wall featuring Philip as a monster and you as a superhero wielding a gun of justice.

Philip stares at it.

"...He’s not wrong," you say, your cheeks hurting from smiling so hard at his antics. Philip just sighs, returning inside to work on the prototype before bidding you goodbye.

You made your way over to your tiny lover, who immediately turned around with an eager gleam in his crimson eyes. He patted the wall’s surface with one small hand, proudly trying to divert your attention to what he clearly deemed a masterpiece. You couldn’t help but smile as you pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of his soft white hair, lifting him easily into your arms before praising him for his creation, watching as his ears turn slightly pinkish. 

The walk back to his mansion was surprisingly short, not because of the distance, but because of the constant stream of animated chatter coming from Sylus. You hum and respond once in a while, eyes locked on his round face. You’d often wondered what Sylus had been like as a child since he didn’t really have any childhood photos or any sweet memories of those sorts. You once even assumed that he’d had probably been an overall aloof child considering his normal nature. 

But clearly you were mistaken because little Sylus was far from indifferent. He was shorter, chubbier and a total chatterbox with full energy. He kept pressing his tiny palms against your cheeks, forcing your attention to remain on him rather than on the passing scenery. Something about it stirred a deep, unfamiliar sense of affection within you — maternal, perhaps, or simply overwhelming tenderness.

“Whatcha thinking?” He asked, peering up at you from beneath long ivory lashes. 

“I’m thinking…” you began as you stepped into the mansion and carefully kicked off your shoes, mindful not to jostle him, “I could have five little yous running around and still never get tired.”

Sylus giggled, and the sound was so sweet — so utterly uncharacteristic of the man you knew — that it made your heart swell. You cooed at him in response, smiling as his ears turned pink once again. It struck you then — he must have always gotten shy when praised by someone he loved.

You set him down gently and made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water for him. As you filled it, you called out, “Luke? Kieran?”

The twins appeared a second later, popping their heads out from behind a wall in perfect sync before strolling over to you. They leaned casually on the dining table, voices overlapping as they spoke in unison.

“Yes, Missus?”

You handed Sylus the water and turned back to them. “If you get a call from Philip this evening, go to the Odd Workshop and collect whatever he gives you.”

The two exchanged glances and nodded but still asked, “What for, Missus?”

“Sylus turned into the five-year-old version of himself as a result of playing with one of Philip’s peculiar inventions. Philip will be creating a counter-agent to reverse that effect by evening. So, you’ll be picking it up from his place.”

The twins looked at you like you grew two heads before sharing a subtle glance with each other. Their gazes followed you as you walked over to little Sylus and offered him the glass of water. You heard them gasp from behind you as they saw their miniaturized boss-man.

“No gin fizz?” Little Sylus asked, his lips forming a small pout. You patted his head twice, making him finish the glass of water before responding, “You’re five, Sylus.”

“Only by body.” He protested half-heartedly, allowing you to walk away toward the kitchen counter. He noticed the twins staring at him, their jaws dropped in disbelief. He shot them a menacing glare that, unfortunately, didn’t carry much weight due to his adorably cute face.

“Do you think boss-man would like uppies?” Luke whispered to Kieran after a moment of silence.

“Try it, and I’ll break your hands.” Sylus threatened, though the menace was undermined by the childish lilt in his voice. The twins zoomed out of the room in response, but it didn’t take long before they returned, each holding one of the plushies you’d collected over time. They also sported silly hats with fans attached to them, which they had somehow managed to get onto Mephisto as well. Waving the plushies in front of little Sylus’ face, Kieran added, “If not uppies, then surely boss-man would like toys?”

Luke furrowed his brow, falling deep into thought. “Is it ‘boss-man’ or ‘baby boss-man’ now?”

“I think the latter. But is ‘baby boss-man’ okay, or should we change it to ‘boss baby,’ like in the movie?” Kieran voiced his own opinion, and the two of them pondered in silence, while Mephisto let out curious caws in the background.

You could see the slight twitch of annoyance in your lover’s brows as you cut up some fruit for him. His expression made it clear he wasn’t exactly amused by their antics. A few moments later, the twins’ yelps filled the room, followed by the sound of Sylus’s evol lifting them off the ground before spinning them in circles. You didn’t need to look back to confirm — his mischievous smirk was practically radiating from the air.

After a few more minutes, you spoke over your shoulder, “Sylus, that’s enough. Put the twins down.”

He slumped his shoulders, his lips pressed in a pout, but despite his reluctance, he complied.

The twins clutched their heads, their faces pale, leaning against each other to steady themselves. They now knew little Sylus’ favorite game, and with that newfound knowledge, they’d be sure to avoid becoming part of it ever again. Meanwhile, Mephisto emitted unintelligible chatters that almost sounded mocking, as if he were laughing at the twins, prompting them to chase after the crow in frustration.

You pick up the fruit bowl you prepared earlier and make your way over to your miniaturized boyfriend. Gently lifting him into your arms, you carry him to his study and settle into the plush sofa, carefully positioning him on your lap. His gaze immediately lands on the fruit bowl, and you already know — he’s not eating a bite unless you feed him yourself.

Without a word, you pick up an apple slice and bring it to his expectant mouth. He takes it without hesitation, and a fond smile spreads across your lips as you watch him chew with slow, deliberate movements, his tiny baby teeth working adorably. Your eyes wander to his miniature hands, chubby fingers, and the soft curve of his cheeks — each feature impossibly cute and heart-melting. A strange warmth blossoms in your chest.

Once he dutifully finishes the fruit, you shower his face with gentle kisses, unable to resist his charm. You take a playful bite of his squishy cheek, and he squirms away with a bashful laugh, flustered but delighted.

You stretch out your legs, adjusting him slightly on your lap just as Mephisto comes swooping into the study. The mechanical crow flaps in with a small box tied to his claws and drops it onto the table. Your eyes flick to the label — it’s a parcel from Philip. The antidote.

Opening the box, you find a syringe filled with a strange-looking fluid. Meanwhile, Sylus is preoccupied with Mephisto, tugging at the poor bird with all the curiosity and strength of a toddler. You gently free the distressed crow from his tiny grasp and let him fly away with a disgruntled caw.

You prepare the syringe, mentally rehearsing how to administer it without making Sylus cry. But to your astonishment, he simply extends his arm, blinking at you calmly like he was born for this moment. You barely suppress the laughter bubbling in your throat as you inject the cure into his arm. Once done, you toss the used materials into the waste bin nearby.

Little Sylus settles back against you, his small head nestled against your chest and his arms resting at his sides. He lets out a soft yawn, eyelids fluttering.

“You must be tired of taking care of me all day, right?” he asks sleepily.

You stroke a hand gently down his back as he drifts closer to sleep, murmuring mostly to yourself, “Tired? Not even a little. Though I’ll admit… I did catch baby fever — and it’s all your fault.” You smile softly and poke his cheek. “You’d look incredibly hot holding our babies, not gonna lie.”

Your eyes begin to grow heavy too, and you decide to let sleep take you — wrapped around this tiny, precious version of him.

But peace is fleeting.

You're rudely jolted awake by a sharp ache in your limbs from the sudden weight pressing into you — and the restless shifting of said weight. You blink your eyes open, groggy and confused, only to find yourself completely unprepared for the sight before you.

Sylus, in all his fully restored, adult glory, is now straddling your lap. And to your utter disbelief — he’s completely naked. The weight of his shirt over your feet confirms that. You keep your eyes fixed on his face, not daring to look anywhere down. 

“Why are you not decent?” You ask, your voice sharp but wavering slightly under the weight of the scene before you.

Sylus doesn’t answer — not directly. Instead, he tilts his head back, a downright  dangerous smirk playing on his lips as he murmurs, “Baby fever, huh?”

Your breath catches, and you struggle to mask the shock on your face. You’d been certain he was asleep last night — small, drowsy, and curled up against your chest — when you muttered those words. Clearly, you were wrong.

Feigning thoughtfulness, he furrows his silver brows, tapping a slender finger thoughtfully against his chin. “Let me see... Was it just my imagination,” he drawls slowly, “or did you actually say something along the lines of how incredibly hot I’d look holding our babies?”

You quickly avert your gaze, face flushing from the neck up, but Sylus isn’t finished. Gently but firmly, he turns your face back toward him with a soft grip on your chin.

“Babies, hmm? Plural, kitten?” His voice is velvet-smooth, full of teasing delight. “My, my… I never realized my sweet girlfriend harbored such passionate little dreams, tucked away in the quiet corners of her heart.”

Mortified, you bring your hands up to cover your face, hoping to hide the vivid shade of red blooming across your cheeks. Your attempts at explanation tumble out as little more than embarrassed babbling — completely incoherent.

Sylus lets out a quiet chuckle as he captures your wrists, gently drawing your hands away from your face and guiding your eyes back to his. His gaze is molten, ruby irises shimmering with a heat that words can’t quite describe — intense, unspoken, and entirely consuming

He presses himself further into your body and you try to not think too much about what is poking your thighs and instead focus on his next words. He clicks his tongue, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You know… I really am curious how you'd handle five little versions of me. Perhaps it’s time we put that theory to the test, don’t you think?”

Before you can form a coherent response, you barely register the soft click of the study door locking — courtesy of his evol — followed by the warmth of his hand slipping beneath your shirt.

In the next breath, you're on your back, pressed into the cushions of the sofa, his body hovering over yours with practiced ease. That infuriating, devastatingly attractive smirk curves his lips — one laced with unmistakable intent.

And in his eyes, gleaming with heat and purpose, you see it: he’s done teasing. He’s ready to prove just how serious he is.

Check out my other works if you liked this ♥

[lalalotta]

[nsfw!] sylus jerking off

not a sylus girlie but i'd bounce on his dick

[venusdews]

𝑯𝑶𝑻 𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑬𝑹 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑰𝑵 ' ݁₊ 𓆉 . ݁𓇼˖ . ݁

— 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠

❝𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐖𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬! 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫… 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐮𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝!

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐒𝐏𝐅, 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠— 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲!❞

WHO WILL BE YOUR SUMMER FLING?

TAKE YOUR PICK ... જ⁀➴

♡ . — ꒰ CANDIDATE #1: THE HOT NEIGHBOR ꒱

CALEB [夏以昼]

── . 𓇼 take a dip into the pool and sunbathe on a hot summer day. you never know, maybe this heat will finally push your hot neighbor to make a move on you.

CHECK THE TEMPERATURE: ☼

♡ . — ꒰ CANDIDATE #2: THE DREAMY LIFEGUARD ꒱

RAFAYEL [祁煜]

── . 𓇼 be a good samaritan and volunteer as a lifeguard at the beach. that bathing suit will have every man going crazy, especially your cute coworker!

HEATING UP...

♡ . — ꒰ CANDIDATE #3: THE MYSTERIOUS MILLIONAIRE ꒱

SYLUS [秦彻]

── . 𓇼 take a trip to a quaint island town and relax in the privacy of your own villa. oh, who's that mysterious hottie staring at you from the bar? wait, he looks familiar...

HEATING UP...

♡ . — ꒰ CANDIDATE #4: THE CUTE ADVENTURER ꒱

XAVIER [沈星回]

── . 𓇼 take a trip deep into the woods and enjoy the peaceful serenity with your situationship friend. luckily there's no one around to hear the sounds you'll be making tonight... 

HEATING UP...

♡ . — ꒰ CANDIDATE #5: THE CHILDHOOD CRUSH ꒱

ZAYNE [黎��]

── . 𓇼 or choose to stay home with this heatwave. but oh, no! your air conditioner is broken! luckily your recently reconnected childhood friend invites you over to cool off at his place— by taking your clothes off.

HEATING UP...

credits to cafekitsune for the divider ♡

[earthsrirshaart]

Dragon rider 🏍️🏍️🌫️

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

Sappy Afternoon ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

synopsis: based on the new sylus bday card! sylus gets his bday meal aka you hehe

tags: explicit, vulgar, cunnalingus, less freaky than normal bc sylus is a loverboy at heart

a/n: happy birthday to the loml thank you for coming home twice

w.c: 0.6k

“Is it sweet, kitten?” Sylus asks you, perching you up on his arm like a sweet bird upon on a tree branch.

He enjoyed the view, looking at you reach up and grab another dollop of the maple sap.

“Taste it for yourself”, you reply, swiping the glossy syrup across his bottom lip.

You watch as he swipes his tongue across it, a surprised expression on his face and an agreeance right after of the sugary flavor.

“Come here”, he says, dipping your chin down to come closer to his, “let me taste yours, maybe it’s different” he chides, asking you so temptingly for a kiss.

“Sylus- it’s your birthday….and you don’t have to ask.” You joke, meeting his lips sweetly over and over.

“That’s right, how observant sweetie.” He whispers against your ear, sarcastic as ever as he nibbles at your lobe to hear the breathy moans escaping your lips grow louder.

“It is my birthday.”

Before you have time to respond, your body gently hits the grass and your back on you tree.

Sylus’s soft kisses grow more insistent, slowly descending down your neck down to your chest- unzipping your jacket and pulling your dress up to peck at your stomach and its soft plush. The sudden cold breeze and the even more pronounced sensation of being so exposed in such an expansive area hit you even harder.

But you couldn’t stop your legs from slowly parting, making room for his large body.

The small dots of sun that dappled through the leaves of the large maple trees blanketed over the two of you, giving you a warmth that was only challenged by his hot tongue leaving marks on you that the sun could never hide.

“I think, I want my birthday meal now.” He says in a smirk, hands resting around your hips as he sinks down to press his cheek against your inner thigh, looking up at you, expectantly.

"Greedy," you murmur, a hand threading through his hair, "didn't even say please."

He chuckles, deep and low, lips brushing against your skin as he speaks.

"Like you said, Im the birthday boy, kitten. I don't need manners today. And besides….”

His hands grip your thighs just a little firmer, spreading them wider as his kisses dip teasingly close, close enough to make you gasp, but far enough to keep you aching.

“You’re ruining these cute little clothes”, he says, snapping the string of your soaked panties to hear you gasp, before slipping them to the side to see just how much he affected you.

Your own breathy whimpers mix with the soft rustle of leaves overhead, the forest around you holding its breath as you let out soft moans upon feeling his warm tongue lap at your core.

You feel his languid tongue brushing up your clit before each suction with his lips- making your fingers tighten in his hair like you can't stand to let go, sometimes pulling him away so you don’t overwhelm yourself.

"Don't run from it," he murmurs against you, tongue circling slow and lazy. "Let me have it all."

He’s reading you so, so easily, as if your body is a language he's fluent in. A little more pressure, a little deeper, and your legs begin to shake around his face.

"I can feel you," he whispers, grinning against you, licking you like he's starved. "So fucking sweet, baby.“

Coiled heat builds at your center.

The way he moans against you, it's sinful; devastatingly so.

Sylus doesn't stop until your thighs are trembling uncontrollably, until your hand drops from his hair to the ground, too spent to hold on as it lays on the grassy forest ground as a sweet but powerful orgasm washed over you, and over his lips.

Only then does he slow down, kissing your hips, your stomach, then dragging himself up your body, lips trailing lazy, reverent kisses over your skin.

Surely there will be a birthday “lunch” later too…and a “dinner”…and then a “midnight snack”.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[ilovemitsuya]

how it started how it’s going

I just know he has been waiting to do that for a long time

[shouyuus]

rafayel w sensitive nipples… wuhssghahs he’d be a whimpering mess… him tied up while u play w his nipples uwjwneka he’d be so cute >w<

-🎀

+18, mdni, nipple-related hcs

okay but i've been thinking about this for like 3 whole days and here's the ranking of all the lads boys and how sensitive their nips would be, from least to most (in my opinion):

─── 黎深 ZAYNE

definitely the least sensitive -- not to say that he's not sensitive at all, but he'd be kind of curious the first time you brush your fingers against it, a tiny frown creasing his forehead

"trying something new?" he'd ask

you shrug, bending down to mouth at one of his dark nipples, even as he lets out a thin breath -- your eyes flick up, he's definitely not unaffected, but not as much as you'd like

eventually, he grows to like it, enjoy the tiny tingling sensation that shoots up his spine whenever you pinch at his nipples, the way they grew more sensitive the more you teased at them

but he'd always find a way to flip the script on you, to find you beneath him, his lips wrapped around your puffy nipples, because nothing could ever compare to the way you moan into his touch

─── 秦彻 SYLUS

you're kidding urself if you don't think this man is kinky and he definitely owns nipple clamps somewhere in that n19 compound okay

the first time you bring them out, he grins, thinks that you're asking him to try them on you, only to blink when you tell him that "hell' get his turn"

"ah -- so... kitty knows how to play --" but his voice cuts off in a gasp as you gently fasten the clamps to his nipples (you had to cuff down his hands too, just as an additional measure -- not that either of you really thought the cuffs would keep him from anything he really wanted)

he's delightfully responsive, even if it takes a while to get him there, but soon, he's hissing, his face contorted with a mixture of pain and pleasure, his cock kicking whenever you flick at one of the nipple clamps; the sight makes your thighs clamp

you don't manage to make him cum just from his nipples but... well, it's good to set stretch goals, right?

─── 夏以昼 CALEB

this man's sensitive, don't let him fool you -- he might try to be stoic, but just the feeling of your fingers on him will make him moan, let alone if/when you play with his nipples

he wouldn't be shy about it either, after a while, egging you on with quiet little groans, nodding when you glance up to check if he's okay

"f-feels good -- shit -- been dreaming about th-this for so long -- ah --"

"yeah? how long?" you ask, grinning as you tweak at him, mesmerized by the way his cock jumps, leaking against his toned stomach every time you pinch at him a bit harder

when you finally lean down to mouth at his rapidly reddening nipple, he makes a half-choked noise, head tossing back, his hips jumping so much you almost jolt away from him

"hold still --" you chide, and he immediately stiffens, casting you a half-hearted glare, "s-since when do i take orders from you?"; you meet his gaze with a sly smirk, "since i found out this new kink of yours, gege --"

─── 沈星回 XAVIER

definitely more sensitive than he lets on, will absolutely whimper the first time you pinch his nipple and try to hide it immediately, but it's a fruitless endeavor

he'll be panting, cock twitching in your hand, leaking down the length of his shaft after just a few minutes, his cheeks so red you'd be concerned he has a fever were it not for the circumstances

"nnggh -- please --" and it's so rare that he begs like this, truly begs, because he'll allow you the occasional half-exasperated "c'mon, please?" when he's trying to get you to do something but this -- it makes your skin pebble up in goosepimples just hearing him, so broken, so desperate

"yeah? please -- what?" you ask, one hand still teasing at his nipples, the other pumping his drooling cock in leisurely strokes

"need -- want more -- g-god --"; you allow yourself a giggle before leaning up to wrap your lips around his over-sensitive nipple

he cums embaressingly quick after that, though he refuses to verbally acknowledge it for a week before you get him to admit that he enjoyed it and that he wouldn't mind if you did it again... and soon

─── 祁煜 RAFAYEL

hands down the most sensitive nipples ever -- won't even wear super constricting shirts in the summer because of how they chafe at his nipples

the first time you so much as breathe against his chest, it has him squirming, and it doesn't take you long to figure out why -- and within seconds of your teasing, he's hard and oozing precum down his cock, soaking through his slacks

"th-that's not f-fair!" he whines, panting, his eyes unfocused as you continue to twist at his puffy nipples (they get so much softer and bigger when you tease them too), "us l-lemurians are b-built -- fuck -- mnghh -- dif-different than you humans --"

you grin, tugging delicately at his nipple just to hear him keen, watch the way his head tosses back into the mess of silken pillows, his knuckles going white in the tangle of sheets, "yeah? are all lemurians this sensitive?"

he puffs out a breath, shooting you a reproachful look, opening his mouth to retort, but it's cut off by a thick moan as you lean down to lave your tongue over the reddening skin, grinning as he makes a broken sort of whimper

"i wonder if you can cum from just this," you say out loud, to which he makes a doleful sort of pleading mewl, already too stimulated to speak

not five minutes later, you get your answer, and it turns out that yes -- yes he can.

[catbolt]

Sylus who awakens from a nightmare and acts immediately on his instinct to hold you, gripping you close under the sheets with one arm around your waist and one tucking behind your neck. You blearily look up at him, shaken out of your own sleep. “Sy?”

He doesn’t respond, only rests his chin atop your head, breathing in the smell of your shampoo, arms locked around you like a vice. You can feel his heart racing as you’re pressed up against his chest, the slight tremble in his hands. “Sy,” your voice grows more serious. “What’s–”

He silences you by pulling you in even closer, burying his head against your neck. For all the times he’s helped you pick apart your own struggles, he’s not very good with words when it comes to his personal feelings. You sigh, stroking a gentle hand across his bare back. “That nightmare again? The one where I’m stabbing you with a big sword?”

He nods, the motion almost imperceptible. His voice comes out like a low hoarse growl. “Sounds stupid when you say it like that.” The silent plea for reassurance, something his usual confidence rarely needs, is clear to you.

“Not stupid,” you correct softly, rubbing his back. As your touch soothes him slowly, his tight hold on you gradually relents. He sighs in frustration, leaning back on his pillow and staring up at the ceiling. You shift closer, sitting up on your hand to place a kiss in the center of his broad chest. His body tenses at the sensation, and he looks down at you, red eyes soft and almost murky with emotion. “See? No sword here,” you mumble, as you lay your head against his chest.

He only pets your hair in response, but you’re satisfied as you hear his breathing slowly steady, his touches becoming lazy and usual, not as if he’s still trying to convince himself you’re really here. He drifts off finally back into sleep, the rise and fall of his chest like a gentle ocean beneath your head.

[zeophy]

oh my GOD. THE PACKAGE

Innocent birdcage: bad ending

[mangooes]

Arguments and understanding

“Don’t raise your voice at me, Sylus.”

(Name) stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, her hair spilling down her shoulders like defiant flames. Her eyes sparkled—not with their usual mischief, but with frustration.

“You’re being unreasonable,” Sylus shot back, pacing like a caged storm. His crimson eyes burned. “You always run headfirst into things without thinking!”

“And you always try to control everything! I’m not one of your pawns, Sysy. I’m your wife!”

The name on her lips softened the edges of the fire—but only for a second.

Then it happened. He didn’t mean it.

But his voice rose. Not in anger—but in panic. In fear.

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed, (Name)!”

Silence dropped like a hammer.

Her expression broke—not entirely, but enough that the hurt cracked through. No witty comeback. No sarcasm. She just… stared at him, the silence between them so loud it rang in his ears.

Then, without a word, she turned.

Walked out.

The door clicked behind her.

And Sylus… let her.

He stood in the suffocating quiet, heart pounding like war drums. His pride told him to let her breathe. His logic told him she’d be back soon.

But something deeper—the dragon part of him, the soul that remembered a girl wrapped in light—twisted in warning.

Minutes passed.

Then an hour.

Then two.

By the third hour, Sylus was pacing like a storm god barely contained. The moment Luke and Kieran passed by, catching sight of his expression, they froze mid-step.

“Where’s the Missus?” Luke asked slowly, already fearing the answer.

“She’s not back yet.”

The twins didn’t need to be told twice.

Without a single order, they bolted—checking city surveillance, phone pings, familiar haunts. Sylus called Mephisto to life with a hiss of his Evol, the mechanical bird’s eyes flashing as it shot into the night skies.

And Sylus?

He grabbed his helmet, swung onto his obsidian-black bike, and rode like hell.

Street after street blurred into streaks of neon and darkness. He searched alleyways, rooftops, the hidden corners of N109 where shadows whispered danger. His Evol flared with every heartbeat, a restless mist of crimson and black wrapping around him like a cloak of rage and desperation.

She was gone.

And all he could see in his mind was her again—that past life, when she left to protect him and never returned.

His hands shook on the handlebars.

He couldn’t lose her again.

He wouldn’t.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When dawn broke and the search turned up nothing, Sylus reluctantly returned home, jaw clenched, every muscle in his body wound tight.

The manor was quiet.

Too quiet.

He stepped through the front door, and for the first time in hours—he saw her.

There she was.

Curled up on the couch in her coat, cheek pressed to a throw pillow, a soft rise and fall in her chest.

Sleeping.

As if she hadn’t just ripped the soul out of him for the past five hours.

Sylus didn’t move at first. He just stood there, frozen in the doorway, trying to make sure it wasn’t some hallucination. That she was really here.

He stepped forward. Then another. And another.

Until he dropped to his knees beside her, breath catching in his throat as he reached out, gently tucking a few stray strands of her hair behind her ear.

She stirred slightly. Her lips were parted. Her cheeks faintly flushed from the cold. She smelled like winter wind and sugar.

Sylus exhaled—long and shaking—and leaned down, kissing her forehead with trembling lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her skin. “I’m so damn sorry.”

Carefully, he picked her up, lifting her effortlessly into his arms and sinking onto the couch with her sprawled across his chest. She shifted instinctively, nuzzling closer, her arms wrapping loosely around his middle.

Sylus rested his cheek against her golden curls.

Only then did he allow himself to close his eyes.

Only then did he breathe again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was just rising when (Name) blinked awake.

She felt warm.

Safe.

Trapped.

Because she was completely, utterly caged in by her husband—Sylus's strong arms wrapped tight around her as if she’d vanish again if he so much as loosened his hold. Her legs tangled with his, and her cheek was pressed to his bare chest where his heart beat like a war drum.

She shifted, squirming slightly.

Sylus stirred.

Eyes fluttered open—burning crimson in the early light. The moment he realized she was awake, he sat up halfway, holding her face in both hands.

“Sweetie,” he breathed, voice ragged. “Gods—I thought I lost you.”

“I just went for a walk…” she mumbled, guilt instantly sweeping through her when she saw the raw emotion in his eyes.

“For hours,” he said, voice cracking. “Without a word. No Mephisto. No calls. I searched the entire goddamn city for you.”

Tears prickled her eyes.

“I���m sorry,” she whispered. “I was being selfish. I didn’t think… I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Sylus didn’t reply.

He just pulled her in and kissed her—deep and fierce and full of everything he didn’t know how to say with words. She melted into it, fingers clenching in his shirt, tears slipping down her cheek.

“I’m here,” she murmured against his lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not unless you want me to lose my mind again,” he said softly, kissing her forehead.

Meanwhile, outside the hallway…

Luke and Kieran dragged themselves into the manor, looking like war survivors.

Kieran squinted at the living room. “You seeing what I’m seeing?”

Luke groaned. “Yep. Boss and Missus making out on the couch. Again.”

“…They couldn’t even pretend to be traumatized with us.”

Luke shook his head. “I want a raise. A big one. With hazard pay.”

“Same. Let’s go lie down before one of them starts baking ‘apology cookies’ again.”

The twins retreated with groans while peace finally returned to the mansion.

And on the couch, Sylus held his wife like a lifeline—his soul finally, finally whole again.

HI IM SORRY IF THIS IS NOT TOO ANGSTY I TRIED OKAY AKSDNASK I CANT WRITE ANGST FOR GODS SAKE LMAOO

[warlockslovetomeow]

mdni. explicit sexual content. sylus x female reader.

streetracer!sylus who showed up at your garage with an obnoxiously blue Ford GT fresh off the lot and a cocky smirk that seemed to say he’d win you over before you even touched his car. you told him the color was a crime. he smiled and asked for a full wrap in midnight black, and after his very gracious tip, you never looked back.

streetracer!sylus who learned real quick that you weren’t just proficient at wrapping, you had magic hands under the hood too. he left that day with a perfectly wrapped GT, a surprise ECU tune that had his engine growling, and a raging hard on he had to take care of on the ride home.

streetracer!sylus who started racing harder just to wreck his shit enough to come crawling back to you. bruised bumper, cracked undercarriage, maybe something knocked loose that didn’t even matter. he’d invent the problem if it meant hearing you mutter his name under your breath while you worked.

streetracer!sylus who didn’t like sharing, especially not you. he'd lean against your workstation, arms crossed, watching you talk to other customers with a twitch in his jaw. that day he made you an offer: he'd pay your full salary, better hours, no more walk-ins and all he wanted in return was you. your time. your hands. your focus. exclusively his.

streetracer!sylus who starts bringing his car in for mods he doesn’t need, just to watch you straddle the hood and get your hands dirty, grease smudged on your cheek like a target he’s dying to mark. the tension between you is hot enough to ignite a fuel tank and he’s banking on that.

streetracer!sylus who corners you in the shop one night after locking the front early, the smell of engine oil thick in the air. he doesn't touch you, not just yet. only leans in close and murmurs, "i ever tell you how much I love watching you work?” while his eyes burn low and hungry. he’ll wait until you beg him to kiss you.

streetracer!sylus who takes you on a midnight ride, engine purring beneath you. his hand rests comfortably on your thigh, inching higher every time you shift in your seat when he takes a corner going impossibly fast. who dares you to ride him in the driver’s seat after pulling over on some desolate stretch of road, headlights cutting through the dark while you bounce in his lap and his hands bruise your hips to keep your pace.

streetracer!sylus who showed up right after a race, engine still hot, eyes hotter, with a fresh scratch on his cheek and a filthy grin. “fix me up, baby,” he said, but you weren’t sure if he meant the car or the burning pull between you. and by the time he had you bent over his hood, mouth full of dirty praise while his belt clinked to the floor, you knew it was never about the GT.

a/n: quick scratch that i hadddd to itch. this idea has been rotting in my mind for so long im debating on writing a full fic about it…