#another fic nearly finished

[inastarlesssky]

One more chapter to go and then this fic is done! So exciting.

It's for a fest, so I can't post it until they're revealed but oh I'm so happy to share it soon. I'm so very happy with it and I had a wonderful beta to help me make sense of it.

Though I'm laughing a bit because one of the discord servers I'm in, someone was asking for a fic with basically the exact premise I'm writing. Only...bc it's a secret, I couldn't tell them "Hey I'm writing that!"

[im-a-king-baby]

Hiii!

I loved ELYN so much! And one scene I would love you to comment on is in chapter 14 when they're out by the lake, and they talk about their futures and their public personas, and I guess they both help each other get to thinking about their options in new ways:

“The first thing you ever said to me was that you weren’t allowed to talk about politics.” Simon bends down to pick a rock up from the grass, turning it over between his fingers. “I guess I’m just saying if this debate is live and there’s no script then this is your chance to tell people your story. To show them what kind of king you’re going to be.” He tosses the stone once in his palm, then throws it into the lake."

I really loved how this got Wilhelm thinking about what he wanted, and how he could go about to get it.

Thanks a lot 💜

No, thank YOU a lot <3 <3.

(This meme is bonus content for ELYN/Everybody Loves You Now which you can read on AO3 here. This post below the cut will contain spoilers.)

So the VERY FIRST line of YR fanfiction I ever wrote was: ‘The first thing Wilhelm ever said to Simon was, "I’m not allowed to talk about politics." It was a wake-up call, a reminder, that Wilhelm will always belong to Sweden first.’ It was originally for a different fic, then I stole it for a Simon POV ELYN-scene which I might post someday (snippet below), but that sense of responsibility is definitely one of the core parts of this kind of contemporary royalty story that is interesting to me. So the beginning of that quote is definitely something that was in my mind from the very beginning.

And it’s interesting to talk about this scene (and chapters 13/14 in general) and that progression to Wilhelm’s decision because it was hardly in draft 1, which jumped from Candace to the debate with very little in between. And then I kept expanding it, and rewriting it a million times (and then my beta was like ‘this isn’t working’ about some parts and I rewrote them several more times.) and these chapters more than a lot of the others I had to step back and really be like ‘what am I trying to achieve here, what are my character arcs, how do I balance that?’

The most important part of ELYN (to me) was that losing the vote had to be a Choice that Wilhelm made. I’ve seen some debates about whether people want an ending where Wilhelm abdicates or where the monarchy is abolished and I always think it misses the nuance that if monarchy is abolished it should be because Wilhelm abolishes it. To me, that’s what makes it an empowered narrative, rather than a story about society rejecting a queer king. And in ELYN, the other key plotline is this reconnection between Wilhelm and Simon and how that pushes them both to break out of these boxes they’re stuck in. On Simon’s side, Wilhelm is a reminder of his past and a wake-up call to how not-okay Simon is now. Pre the writing of 13/14 Wilhelm did had some influence from Simon, breaking the rules and pushing back on his mother and Minou, but I wanted there to be a clear character beat that tied Simon's return to Wilhelm’s making the decision to call for a 'no' vote.

Then it was a case of reflecting on the parallels of their lives, which was mostly this theme of being voiceless. Simon not being able to sing his own songs, vs. Wilhelm being handed speeches to read out and having to stick to the Official Story. And this is where Simon is kind of ahead of Wilhelm, in that he’s already had his ‘fuck it, they can’t stop me’ moment singing at the concert, so he gets to take the advice-giving role, which is nice to balance out their interactions a bit more so it’s not Wilhelm helping Simon all the time.

(In case you’re interested, this is one of the notes I sent my beta with the final rewrite (which kind of shows how I was approaching this transition from a character development perspective): ‘I’ve tried to make the split more clear so that in 13 his action is avoiding the debate (passive) and in 14 he switches to actively using the debate to change the vote.’)

Bonus snippet, here is the line from paragraph one in the Simon hotel scene:

The wind is bitingly cold. “Thanks, tack, love you all,” he calls down. “Have a good night!” He shuts the window, draws the curtains like maybe they’ll leave if they can’t see him. They won’t leave. They were there this morning when he went to an interview, then a doctor about the scratch in his throat, then an outfit fitting for the charity show. The numbers fluctuate but they’re never gone. He wonders how Wilhelm got past them. There must be another entrance, one that someone has decided Simme isn’t allowed to use, because they want to reward the loyalty of the fans freezing their fucking toes off to get a glimpse of him. Wilhelm wouldn’t risk being seen by them. Wilhelm knows how important is is to maintain his image. The first thing Wilhelm ever said to Simon was, ‘I’m not supposed to talk about politics.’ A wake up call. A reminder. That Wilhelm will always belong to Sweden first. And now Simon knows a little of how that feels, to have the expectations of thousands of strangers resting on his shoulders. Fortunately Simme’s image is much easier to maintain. A bit of smoky eye, a smile that promises sex, a never ending stream of photoshoots where the clothes are more or less optional. It all comes naturally: start at the neck of the bottle and work down.

[corvuscrowned]

my year in fic

big smooches to @oknowkiss (x), @lqtraintracks (x),  @maesterchill (x), and @cavendishbutterfly (x) for the challenge to share one line from each fic i wrote this year. it was such a nice way to look back on my year in fic writing! p.s. we are interpreting the word “one line” v loosely here folks

shades of dawn | E, 3k, angsty ginlav

The night after Lavender comes and goes, the moon always appears to be just as full as the night before, but Ginny knows that the smallest part of it is missing.

magpie | T, 4k, klepto harry

Draco thinks Potter might be able to take things from him not just with his hands, but with those eyes alone. He thinks if Potter keeps looking at him this way for long enough, Draco might just offer it all up. 

lovesick | T, 13k, healer draco, love potion victim harry

“Maybe I’m a bit tired of all of the swooning and heart eyes and —” of watching you love anyone else. Draco shakes his head. “Forget it.” 

ad infinitum | E, 14k, angsty getting-back-together + sentient house

“I love you,” Harry says. “I don’t care about any of it. I love you.”

“I know,” Draco murmurs. “You always did the most idiotic things.”

from the same cloth | T, 8k, t4t  idiots to lovers

Draco nods, and Harry realizes his face is stitched with the same nerves that are butterflying through her stomach — and the feeling the two of them are standing side by side on the precipice of something new, and there’s nothing left to do but fall into it.

undergrowth | M, 2.5k, horror + floral pining

Draco worries that Potter’s eyes might carry sunlight, and if they shine on him too long, he’ll have no choice but to grow, and grow, and grow.

the seventh life | E, 18k, vampire!draco & immortal!harry reunited in paris

“Oh, I don’t know,” Draco said. “I only know the times I’ve loved you.”

“How many times has that been?” Harry pushed.

“Since the very first time I met you,” Draco said. “Six lifetimes ago.”

ash, fire, ash | G, 1k, arsonists to lovers

Malfoy tosses the butt of their cigarette into the flames. “They’ll know it’s you doing it eventually.”

“Good,” Harry says. “Then maybe it’ll make them remember my name.”

an emerald in the sky | M, 6k, time traveling fuckbuddies to lovers

There are so many Harrys sitting in front of him right now, so many men he’s met once and then lost, threading their way in and out of his life at the sharp point of a needle. The composite sum of so many strangers, and a single man whom Draco has been fighting, from the very beginning, not to fall in love with.

with hands full of dusk | E, 15k, drarry as mythical creature hunters

But Harry is older now, and has long since learned that doubt and hope are just two shades of the same color. 

the night of the fireworks | E, 6k, porn with feelings

Harry’s mind was swirling, still slightly loopy in a post-sex haze. “You love me,” he said. “You said it first.”

“I didn’t say it,” Draco said. “It doesn’t count. Fuck off.”

twelve moons | T, 6k, innkeeper harry & potioneer draco

Draco climbs the first step to the door, and Harry joins him on it, learning immediately that there isn’t space for two, unless you’d like to see the other person up close — the way the glow of the moonlight might be captured on their hair, or on their skin, or in their eyes.

im tagging @teledild0nix, @sorrybutblog, @thehoneybeet, @orange-peony, @moonstruckwytch, @jalesidor, @basicallyahedgehog, @pennygalleon, @the-sinking-ship, @mystickitten42, @geesenoises, @makeitp1nk, and @m0srael if any of you havent been tagged!

[perexcri]

happy one year to her and one of my better opening lines for a fic <3

now, because i'm curious:

[muldersfingers]

This is actually upsetting me to look at on my (new txf) ao3 account, like I'm having a visceral reaction to seeing it and I NEED TO FINISH A FIC

[lit-in-thy-heart]

one fic completed for merwaincelot week :D

[strawberryclementine]

Me: I wish there was more Kisaki fluff

Me: ...

*writes more angst and hurt*

[rapono-writes-stuff]

you ever find old WIPs that are nearly done and just

[dogbunni]

back on that writing grind. might do some more nendo headcanons later 🤔

[squarebracketsmileyface]

Chapter 6 of If It Ain't Broken is already like, 2/5ths of the way done

Chapter 5 has been out how long? 💀

[jasontoddiefor]

Yeah sure we’ve all binged a long fic, but have you ever read a WIP and followed someone’s life?

Tidbits of information - (“I graduated today!”) - and small joys (“It’s my birthday!”) and you get to be there to say “This chapter made me cry, happy birthday, thank you for gifting us this”.

I remember reading this fic of someone at the end of high school, older than me then. They seemed infinitely wise, spoke of their future career and getting into the college they wanted. I remember them posting on days they felt like nothing could bring them down - and on days the whole world did and it’s the aftermath of a hospital visit. Cancer, I think it was, their father. I got to the end of the story, I know their father was fine, but also they got to finish their WIP. I graduated three years later than them, still dutifully wrote thank you notes in every comment. I wonder if they remember me, or just the collective of people reading the story as it updates.

Four years ago I was into my first year of university, my first year of figuring out being out in public spaces. I made excuses as to why my name didn’t match my paperwork and read a fic on the train, the same five chapters over and over again for the next years as I thought the story abandoned. It updated this week after such a long hiatus, I left another thank you comment.

There’s an author I love, they update their stories like a clockwork. When they don’t, I check their blog, just to see if their doing alright, not because I feel like they owe me, just to ensure whether I better get out my laptop to write that really detailed university level essay chapter analysis to get them smiling when their day sucked.

And then, once, when I was 17, I read a fic that hadn’t updated in over a decade. I wasn’t even in primary school when it started posting. On the last chapter, I left a comment that, in retrospect, was horribly rambly and most likely full of grammar mistakes. The author replied and though I couldn’t see their face, I thought of them crying. They were married now, had children, and hadn’t thought about this fic in years. They went through their files again, found another half written chapter and an outline. I got two new chapters to read that year.

And then, recently, someone told me they got back into writing original fiction because of my comments. I get to read nearly weekly chapters.

I love binge reading a finished fic, but nothing is ever going to top the feeling of anticipation of waiting for a chapter, the pure joy when someone tells you I was done with this, but you made me think of it again, so this is for you.

Anyway, I think we should romanticize reading WIPs more, growing up alongside the authors writing the stories we love.

[blizzardfluffykpop]

I've been working on the same fic for what feels like months because I've wanted already to be out. I craved it being done since the 16th of February when the idea was presented to be by a dear friend. (We rotted so bad because of him...) ANYWAYS 😭😭😭 I'm about to cry happy tears- I finally finished it- I feel exalted tbh- (I forgot to mention it's scheduled for tomorrow at 1030 est~)

If you would like a spoiler for who it is about & what kind of an au it is- and the outfit that ran me insane- See below~

It's a mechanic au with Mr. Kim Younghoon (now originally, he was going to be in dark blue coveralls... (as I had picture him) but then I saw this photo & the performance and I've not been the same). This is Kpopnation: Warsaw, Poland: 230923 (was I only going to use 1? yeah but he: yeah)

[rainbows-fanfics]

29 - Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

From the AO3 Wrapped Ask Meme.

---

"She looked at him and he met her gaze. Her eyes grew watery. Without a word, she held out her hand. Her gloves had been removed sometime during the surgery. He caught sight of her painted nails and looked back at her face. Was she expecting him to comfort her?...Should he? She was in an indescribable amount of pain. She'd just narrowly avoided death and was recovering from a substantial amount of blood loss. 

And now she was reaching out to him. 

He hesitated before lifting his gloved hand and grasping her palm. This was apparently what she wanted. She squeezed her small fingers against his own. The breath left his lips in shock and the air puffed against the inside of his bauta. He could not gather the will to let go."

[sapphire-writes]

Beyond The Play

college!Art x college!Reader

summary: Tashi needs some time alone with her man, which leaves you without a room for the night.

word count: 3.8k

rating: mature/explicit/18+

warnings: alcohol, fingering, dry humping, p in v sex with a condom, light praise, titty sucking, there's only one bed oh no!!

a/n: thanks for all the love on my first Challengers fic! hope you enjoy this one!

“You are so fucked,” Art says, taking another sip of his beer.

“Shut up.”

“He’s right,” Tashi agrees, sighing heavily, glancing at her cards.

You’re all sitting on the floor of your and Tashi’s dorm room, half-empty beer bottles littering the floor between you. You’d been playing poker for the past hour or so, swindling more of Patrick and Art’s money. It’d become a Friday night habit of yours, card games and beer with Patrick and Art. Patrick was always a maybe, he only came to visit his girlfriend a couple times a semester. 

But you, Art, and Tashi were always a solid trio. Tashi and Art had met through tennis of course, and you had met Art through Tashi after rooming with her freshman year of college. You’d become fast friends, and roommates for the next several years. You got along with Patrick well enough, you had to once he and Tashi started dating.

You could tell that had been a sore spot for Art, at least for a while. You’d suspected he’d had a thing for Tashi, and fire and ice hadn’t been the same since. You’d once asked Tashi about it and she’d only shrugged. Even though she was with Patrick for now, you knew Tashi had only one true love. 

Whatever Art felt for Tashi was easily molded into friendship, and the three of you became nearly inseparable. Which was good, even if you may or may not have developed some feelings of your own for the blond tennis player. 

But your friendship was more important. Those feelings could be pushed aside.

“God damn it,” Patrick curses, “I fold.”

Tashi snickers, revealing her cards and Patrick swears once more. 

“I need a smoke,” Patrick says, standing and leaning across Tashi’s bed to the open window.

“Oh no you don’t,” Tashi says, standing at lightning speed, “Outside, we are not getting in trouble for this.”

She grabs Patrick by the shirt collar, dragging him off the bed. He dramatically chokes, but lets her drag him towards the door.

“Art come on,” Patrick insists, reaching for his best friend.

“What? No, I wanna stay,” Art says, sandy hair falling in front of his eyes, “You don’t need a babysitter—”

“Yes I do,” Patrick insists, “C’mon five minutes, I swear.”

The boys tumble into the hall and you can hear their voices fading as they make their way outside. You stand from the floor, gathering up some beer bottles, and folding up the empty pizza box.

“Hey, d’you think you could sleep somewhere else tonight?” Tashi asks, brown eyes wide, “It’s Patrick’s last night, and y’know we really haven’t had any alone time.”

Your chest constricts at the thought. You totally get where she’s coming from but, it’s your room too. The thought of sleeping in the common area is less enticing. 

“Or at least just for a couple of hours,” Tashi backtracks, seeing your expression, “Just so we can—”

“Yeah, Tash it’s fine,” you tell her, swallowing your annoyance. Tashi’s been nothing but thoughtful and kind as a roommate, and friend. It’s an inconvenient favor, but nothing crazy. “I’ll get out of your hair for a couple of hours.”

“You’re the best,” she says, kissing your cheek, “Seriously, I owe you one.”

“You sure do,” you tell her, “I expect full payment for this.”

“Do you mean a trip to the movies with slurpees and popcorn?” Tashi asks, raising her eyebrows. 

“With extra butter,” you clarify and point at her, “You’re not cheaping out on me.”

“I’d never,” she insists, feigning seriousness before breaking into a grin. 

You finish helping Tashi clean up and begin your excommunication from your room. Walking down the hallway you bump into Patrick and Art on their way back from Patrick’s smoke break.

“What’re you doing out here? You start smoking?” Art asks as Patrick keeps walking past you, picking up the pace, “Hey where…”

“Party’s over,” you tell him, as Patrick turns the corner, eager to return to Tashi now that she’s alone.

Art frowns, confused.

“But we were—”

“Art,” you cut him off and place your hands on his shoulders, shaking him slightly, “Party’s over. Unless you’re eager to be a third.”

Art’s cheeks flush and he glances away, forcing out a laugh. Something tugs at your heart watching his half-smile appear. 

“Uh yeah ... .no thanks,” he says and you pat his shoulders before releasing them, “Wait but where are you going to go?”

You shrug, “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“You can’t just wander around campus, it’s like 2 am,” Art says, beckoning you with his hand, “Come back to my room, at least till they’re done.”

“Really?” you ask, “Cause if you’re tired I can just—”

“Don’t be silly,” Art says, poking your shoulder, “C’mon.”

Art’s room is in a separate building on campus, about a five-minute walk from you and Tashi’s building. Art is lucky enough to have a single; you’d been there a handful of times before class or practice. He keeps his room neat, aside from some clothes scattered on the floor from quick changes before practice. You smile as he hurriedly picks them up, throwing them into a hamper in his closet.

His bed is unmade, navy sheets messy as though he’d just woken up. 

“Sorry bout the mess,” he says, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“I’m not judging, you’re cleaner than most guys I’ve met,” you tell him and he laughs. 

Suddenly, it hits you how late it is, sleepiness hitting you like a train as you yawn. This triggers Art’s yawn and the pair of you stand awkwardly in front of each other. 

“Um,” Art says suddenly, “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” you agree, stomach sinking, “I can just—”

“You should stay.”

You’re silent at that. You stare at him, as he nervously plays with the hem of his t-shirt, waiting for your reaction. You’re not sure what to say. It’s fine, right? Just a friend, helping out another friend.

A friend whom you have a big fat annoying crush on.

“I mean….it’s just late and you’re tired and who knows when they’ll be done.”

“I don’t have anything with me,” you tell him, voice sounding softer, meeker than you’d like.

“Oh, here I got you,” he says, walking to his dresser. He shuffles through the drawer a moment before revealing a shirt and clean boxers, “Just did laundry today. You can….you can change in the bathroom. I even have an extra toothbrush.”

You roll your eyes at that, taking the clothes from him. 

“Okay,” you agree.

“Bathroom’s right there.”

You nod, quickly making your way across the room and into the bathroom. You close the door and quickly change, finding Art’s spare toothbrush unopened in a goodie bag from the dentist shoved into a spare drawer. You quickly wash your face, brush your teeth, and change into his clothes. The shirt is baggy, with Stanford Men’s Tennis written across the front. It smells like him, like his detergent and his cologne and you can’t help but greedily inhale.

When you exit the bathroom, Art dips in, leaving the door open as he brushes his teeth. You place your clothes in a pile on his desk, awkwardly waiting for him. When he emerges, he’s wearing only his boxers and a gray t-shirt.

“I’ll take the floor,” Art says, his face turning beet red, “You can have the bed.”

“Art no,” you insist, “It’s your room. I’ll take the floor, it’s only fair—”

“Yeah that is not happening,” he says, satisfied smirk on his face, “Tashi’d kill me if she found out I made you sleep on the floor.”

“We could…..” you wet your lips, struggling to get the words out, “We could share the bed?”

Art watches you, his eyes wide. You watch his Adam’s apple bobs as he contemplates your question. Suddenly your pulse quickens, and embarrassment floods your body, and your face flushes. You turn away from him, scooting onto the bed.

“I mean only—”

“—if you’re comfortable,” Art finishes and you shut your mouth. You both giggle at the overlapping sentences.

“Yeah, I’m comfortable, Art,” you tell him, patting the space beside you, “Come on.”

Art moves onto the bed and you push closer to the wall. He’s so close when he lies down beside you, stretching his arm above your head. You’ve grown accustomed to the moonlit room and at this distance, you can almost count each eyelash that frames his blue eyes. 

“Is this okay?” he whispers, minty breath wafting over your face, making your head spin.

“Mhmm,” is all you can manage as the heat of his body warms you under the covers.

He’s silent then and you lay there for a moment, watching each other, listening to your shared breathing. Art chuckles then.

“What?”

“It’s just…” he trails off, “Nothing, it’s silly.”

“What is it?”

“You’re the first girl I’ve shared a bed with,” he admits, shyly glancing away from your gaze.

“Art Donaldson,” your tone is teasing, “I find that rather hard to believe.”

“It’s true,” he insists, brows furrowing together, “I mean….I’m not saying—wait” he wets his lips nervously, “I’m not a virgin—”

Your eyebrows raise, a smile curling at the corner of your lips. No, you did not doubt that. 

“Not that anything’s wrong with that, I just—wait and not to imply—”

“Art!” you cut him off, reaching forward and pressing your fingers against his lips, “I’m kidding. Don’t freak out.”

“M’not,” he mumbles, lips moving against your fingers.

“I’m fucking with you, Donaldson,” you whisper, taking your hand back, “I know you’re a gentleman.”

“Thank Christ,” he says with an exaggerated exhale causing you to giggle once more. He watches you, a smile on his face, eyes flickering to your lips.

Your face heats up as he wets his lips. Suddenly, nervousness flutters in your belly, and your heart flutters in your chest.

“Goodnight,” you tell him, turning away from him to face the wall.

You wait for his response, hoping he’s not disappointed. Disappointed about what, you’re not sure. 

“Goodnight,” he says softly and you close your eyes.

You wake up early. Birds are chirping outside the window, golden sunlight is beginning to bleed into the room, and Art’s chest is smushed firmly against your back. His arm is curled around your middle, hand splayed under your shirt and on your tummy, face buried in the crook of your neck. He’s so warm, his presence so comforting, you just want to close your eyes and melt back into him. 

Art groans in his sleep, moving his hips slightly and your eyes snap open.

Oh, Art.

He’s pressed firmly against your backside, rock-hard, hips unconsciously grinding against you. Your mouth falls open slightly feeling him against you, the hard outline of his cock bullying against your ass. Art groans again, hand on your stomach pushing you closer to him.

A breathy sigh escapes you and your head falls back against him slightly. 

“Art,” you breathe, answered with another groan, this one edging on a whimper. His hips gyrate, cock pressing against you with need, “Oh God…”

You swallow, breathing becoming more shallow. Your pussy clenches, and you can feel the growing wetness in the boxers Art had lent you, thighs pressing together desperate to relieve some of the pressure.

“Art wake up!” 

Art wakes with a start, head pulled from your shoulder. You can’t see him, but you feel him tense, the warmth of his body ripped from yours as he lurches backward, right off the edge of the bed. He falls with a yelp, hitting the floor with a loud thud. You sit up turning toward him. 

“Fuck!” he says, scrambling to sit and hide his erection, “Shit, I’m so sorry!” His face is red and he grabs a pillow, placing it over his lap, “God–fuck, I’m so sorry I was asleep—” He keeps stuttering, unable to meet your eyes. 

“Art.”

“It’s just biological you know, just morning wood, I would never do anything without your explicit consent–enthusiastic consent!”

“Art…”

“And I would never want to ruin anything between us, ever–”

“Art!”

His head snaps toward you then, eyes meeting yours. His mouth hangs open, eyes watery as he looks up at you. He looks so sad, so embarrassed, and disappointed. And something else as well. Worried, perhaps. 

“Get back up here,” you tell him.

Art’s mouth remains open in shock as he glances at the bed.

“Now?”

“Yes, right now.”

Art scrambles to rejoin you on the bed, lying beside you. He faces you just as he did last night, sandy hair falling across his forehead. You smile softly at his disheveled appearance and his flushed cheeks.

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop talking,” you tell him, reaching forward and brushing some hair from his face. You let your hand trail around to the nape of his neck, fingers curling in his hair. “You have my consent.”

Art’s eyes widen, lips parting in shock.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” you tell him, pulling yourself closer. His hand drifts to your hip, anchoring himself to it. “Explicit, enthusiastic, all yours.”

The last word has barely left your lips before he’s leaning forward, pressing his lips against your own. They’re warm and soft, he kisses you with innocent eagerness, the hand on your hip pulling you flush against him. You lift your leg, hitching it around his thigh, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging slightly, earning a moan against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he moans against your lips, “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.”

Something deep inside your belly warms at his admission. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” he answers, kissing you again, “Since freshman year.”

“Why didn’t you…..oh fuck..” your question trails off as Art mouths your neck, sucking and biting the tender skin.

“Didn’t want to ruin anything,” he mumbles, kissing your collarbone. 

You hum at his answer, tilting your head to give him better access. His hand moves from your hip bone, up under your shirt—his shirt. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, mouth returning to your lips.

“Yes,” you tell him, “Please touch me.”

You can feel his smile against your lips as he does what you ask, fingers grazing the underside of your breast. Pushing against him, his hand cups your breast, squeezing lightly. You pull away from his lips briefly, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it to the end of the bed. Art’s eyes devour you and he kisses you desperately as he continues to play with your tits. 

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing down your neck until he reaches the top of your chest. 

Art’s lips move across the tops of your breasts, as though he’s struggling with choosing which one to lavish with attention. Luckily for you, he decides rather quickly and latches his mouth to your right nipple, thumb, and forefinger, tweaking the opposite. Your back arches as he gently bites down, sucking the hardened peak harshly before releasing it with a pop. 

“Art.”

He simply moans, ignoring your cries as he brings his mouth to your opposite nipple, repeating his previous action. Pleasure winds a current in your lower belly, your thighs clench as he repeats his little torture, alternating back and forth between your breasts. You grab his hair, tugging him not too gently until he glances up at you, cheeks red, lips glossy and puckered. 

He’s too pretty.

You pull him back to your lips, kissing him feverishly while trying to rid yourself of the clothing you have left. Art feels you squirming and assists, hands moving the boxers down your legs until you’re able to kick them off at your ankles. Your hands move to him next, eager to even the playing field. 

You tear his shirt over his head revealing his toned stomach from countless hours on the court. Your mouth waters at the sight before Art is on you once more, lips capturing yours in another heated kiss. His hand returns to your hip, curling against it before he reaches further, squeezing your ass.

You smile against his mouth as he squeezes again. 

“You’re just fucking perfect, aren’t you?” he murmurs, returning your smile.

His hand grazes down the back of your thigh before venturing to the front where your legs meet. Your breathing becomes more labored the closer he gets to your hot center. 

“Can I?” he asks, so softly, you nearly drown out his question with your heavy breath.

“Yes,” you tell him, and that’s all he needs. 

Art slides a curious finger between your wet folds, gently circling your clit. Your mouth falls open as he continues.

“You’re so wet,” he remarks, dipping his finger lower, and finding your entrance. 

He lets his middle finger sink into you, met with little resistance. Your walls greedily accept him as he curls his finger upwards, beginning to pump it in and out. Stars explode behind your eyes and you moan, clutching onto his shoulder.

Art smirks, eyes aglow at the pleasured noises you emit.

“That feel good?”

“Yes—fuck,” you squeak as he presses another finger inside of you, “Oh god.”

“Yeah?” 

Art crooks his fingers against your velvety walls, pressing against that special spot inside of you that has your head lolling against him, moans spilling from your lips. His thumb joins, caressing your sensitive clit in time with the strokes of his fingers. 

“Feels so good,” you moan, “I’m so close.”

“Yeah? You're gonna come for me?” he asks, kissing your neck. Your fingers tangle themselves in his blonde hair, tugging harshly, your orgasm building deep in your belly, “Come on baby, come on my fingers, I wanna feel this pretty pussy come.”

His words send you over the edge and your pussy clenches around his digits as you come, thighs shaking from the intensity as warmth floods through you.

“That was so hot,” Art says, kissing you, still buried to the knuckles inside you, “You’re so hot. Let me fuck you, please.”

You hum against his lips as he carefully removes his fingers from your warmth. He pulls away, bringing his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean. You watch him awestruck as he moans, eyes closing at the taste of you.

“Get inside me,” you tell him, “Right now.”

Art doesn’t need to be told twice, sitting up and pulling his boxers off as you lay on your back. Your eyes drift down his stomach to his cock. It’s pretty, just like the rest of him. Long, girthy, a neat tuft of dark sandy colored hair at the base. The tip flushed red and weeping as he strokes himself. 

“Condom?” you ask, and he nods, walking to his desk and rummaging through the first drawer. 

He comes up successful, ripping the wrapper with his teeth and rolling the condom on his length before crawling on top of you. You spread your legs for him as he lines himself up, rubbing the tip along your soaked slit. 

“Art, please put it in,” you whine, hips lifting.

“Jesus, I’m not gonna last long if you keep that up,” he says, shaking his head.

Your responding giggle is short-lived as he slowly sinks inside of you, filling you to the brim.

“Oh god,” you whimper, as he rests his forehead against yours.

“You okay?”

“More than okay,” you answer, cupping his cheek. He mirrors your action and you smile, a sudden burst of tenderness exploding in your chest, tears welling in your eyes. 

Art rotates his hips, pulling back and sinking back into your inviting warmth. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs, kissing your lips, “I’ve dreamt of this for years.”

“Me too,” you admit, wrapping your legs around his waist, “God, Art, I’ve wanted this forever.”

This spurs him on, his thrusts becoming quicker, more eager at your confession. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you whimper as he pounds into you, “Wanted this for so long—used to talk to….to Tashi about it—”

Art moves his hand along your side, reaching your thigh and hooking your leg over his shoulder.

“What’d you tell her?”

The new angle sends him deeper, the head of his cock rubbing perfectly against that spongy section of your walls that has your mouth dropping open in pleasure.

“Wanted you,” you manage as Art holds one of your hands above your head against the pillows, “Wanted this so bad.”

“I’ll give it to you,” Art says, his breath catching, “Fuck—oh god you’re so pretty like this, fuck.”

“Art!” you cry his name as your second orgasm builds, sneaking up on you as he slows his pace, “Why’d you—”

“Wanna savor this,” he says softly, kissing the tip of your nose. His thrusts have slowed, hips moving with leisure. 

The pressure in your belly continues to build as he smirks down at you. Tennis has done wonders to his stamina; he fucks you like he could keep this pace for hours, barely breaking a sweat. You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows as he kisses your neck, your hamstring burning deliciously with the stretch. 

“Please come for me,” he murmurs, right next to your ear, “I’ve got to feel that sweet little pussy come around my cock, please.”

You do as you’re told, spurred on by Art whispering praises and encouragement in your ear and you fall apart, clenching around his cock and milking him for all he’s worth. You feel his hips stutter, cock twitching inside your warmth as he follows your release with his own. Art’s lips find yours then, and you can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you like a drowning man coming up for air. 

You stay like that for several minutes, his cock softening as you kiss one another, before he slowly pulls out. He takes a moment to take off the condom, tying it off and tossing it in the trash before he rejoins you in bed.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you across his chest. 

You lie with your cheek pressed against his pec, listening to the gentle beating of his heart. He strokes your arm with his fingers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Did you mean what you said?” he asks, face buried in your hair, “About wanting me? This?”

“Mhmm,” you answer, putting all your cards on the table, “I may have harbored a small crush on you.”

Art picks up your hand measuring it against his own before lacing your fingers together.

“I wish I knew that earlier,” he admits, still holding your hand, “I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

You glance up at him between your lashes and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says with a smile.

“And here I thought Patrick was the only one who owned your heart,” you tease, causing him to playfully bite your wrist, “Hey!”

“Not the only one,” he admits, rolling you over onto your back, “I’m glad you got kicked out of your room last night.”

You lean up, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Me too.”

link to other stories from me!

To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 💙

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected 🩵

[briefinquiries]

Tyler Owens x Reader: Say Don't Go

Request: Anonymous asked: “​​I think your writing is one of the best on here for Tyler <3 i’d love to read your take on the reader sticking out a big tornado with Tyler, i guess similar to the rodeo scene in the movie with Kate but i’d like to read your own take on him just comforting the reader and making sure they get through it <3”

Word count: 3.7k 

Warnings: Blood & injury mention, tornado, hurt / comfort

A/N: thank you so so much for the kind words :((( absolutely loving these requests & all of the comments / replies to my recent tyler fics. please keep them coming!!

 “You could’ve stayed home if you didn’t want to come,” you said to Tyler frustratedly. 

“It’s not that I didn’t want to come,” he replied, trailing behind you as you ventured into another store. “I just didn’t realize that picking up a birthday gift was going to entail being at the mall ‘til sun down.”

“I told you I didn’t have anything picked out and that I’d probably have to look around–” you reminded him, stopping in your tracks so that you could turn to face him. 

Tyler put his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, I’ll shut up.”

As soon as he backed down, your gaze immediately softened. “Well I don’t want you to be miserable,” you said as you crossed your arms. 

The corner of Tyler’s lip tugged upward in a cheeky grin. “Now how could I ever be miserable when I’m spendin’ time with you?” 

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that crept across your face. “Yeah, whatever,” you said with a smirk. “Why don’t you head to the food court? Once I finish up, I’ll come find you.”

He tilted his head to the side, like a puppy looking for permission. “You sure?” 

You nodded, adjusting the bag slung over your shoulder. “Yeah, of course. Just, don’t get ice cream without me,” you warned.

Tyler took a step forward so that you were now only inches apart. You felt his hand rest on the small of your back before he pulled you closer and leaned forward. The second that you felt his lips press against yours in a soft, gentle kiss, all of the annoyance and frustration you’d previously felt melted away in the blink of an eye. Even though you and Tyler had been together for nearly two years now, he still had that kind of effect on you. 

When he stepped away, a smile lingered on his lips. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured you. 

You kept your eyes trained on the back of his head as he made his way from the store, because the truth was– even when he pissed you off, you loved him more than you’d ever loved anything. 

Only when he was out of sight did you finally turn and resume your search. As much as you loved spending time with Tyler, you had to admit it was easier to shop around without him constantly moaning and groaning the entire time. 

You settled into the silence, taking your time as you made your way through the store. After inspecting all of the assorted knick knacks and smelling nearly every candle in the place, you finally settled on a necklace for your mom’s upcoming birthday. 

Once you’d paid, you tucked the jewelry box inside your bag and began making your way out of the store, planning to head straight for the food court to find Tyler. 

Except the second you stepped out of the store, you nearly jumped out of your skin at the loud sound of cracking thunder above. It was close– enough so the building trembled. You watched as other shoppers stopped in their tracks too. 

And then, to your absolute dismay, you heard the emergency alert systems on everyone’s phones start going off in unison. 

You pulled yours out of your pocket and read the message flashing across your screen. 

National Weather Service: TORNADO WARNING in this area until 8:30 PM CDT. Take shelter now in a basement or an interior room on the lowest floor of a sturdy building. If you are outdoors, in a mobile home, or in a vehicle, move to the closest substantial shelter and protect yourself from flying debris. Check media for more information. 

You swallowed thickly before glancing up from your phone. Gradually, others began doing the same. Then, as soon as everyone had read the warning and realized what was going on, panic ensued. 

People began running in all directions– pushing others aside and rushing towards exits. You tried your best to remain calm, but you couldn’t ignore the fear spreading through you. 

Instantly, your eyes began scanning the crowd as you instinctively began looking for Tyler.  

He’ll come for you, you thought. Tyler will come. 

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t meet him halfway. You tried to keep close to the wall to prevent being crushed in the crowd– unfortunately for you though, other people had the same idea. As hard as you tried to keep to the side, soon, you were sucked right into the mass of people. The only thing you could do was move with them and try desperately to stay on your feet as everyone pushed and shoved their way around you. 

Eventually, you dared to careen your neck up and scan for him. At first, all you saw was chaos– but people all seemed to be moving in the same direction now. You watched as parents picked up their children and spouses grabbed each other’s hands. Employees ran out of stores and customers dropped bags. 

It took a few minutes, but eventually, you spotted a familiar tuft of sandy brown hair– the only person in eyesight moving against the crowd.

“Tyler!” you screamed. 

He reacted to your voice, his head turning in the direction he thought it was coming from. 

“Tyler!” you yelled again. 

This time, his eyes landed right on yours. 

But before you could even sigh the breath of relief that was sitting in your chest, you felt something, or rather someone jab into your side. The force was enough to make you stumble on your feet and fall to the ground with a thud. People continued rushing by– feet stepping on you, knees colliding into your back. At one point, you tried to place your hand on the floor to give yourself enough leverage to stand up, but as soon as you did, a white converse stomped right on your fingers, causing you to hiss out in pain. 

Panic began creeping up your throat– making it harder to breathe, let alone think of a plan. A dark cloud began clouding your vision, numbing your senses to what was happening around you. Until suddenly, you heard your name being called. The sound broke through the haze. Before you could react, you felt two hands sliding underneath your armpits from behind. And suddenly, you were being hoisted up from the ground. 

“I got you,” Tyler’s voice said in your ear. You didn’t even get a chance to turn and look at him before he was pushing you forward. “We gotta move.” 

Thankfully, his grip under your arms never faltered, otherwise you were sure you wouldn’t have been able to keep up. But eventually, Tyler pushed you towards the outer edge of the busy mall hallway. Once you were no longer in danger of being flattened by the crowd, he spun you around– hands clutching your shoulders tightly while he blocked the remaining traffic from reaching you. 

“Are you hurt?”

You shook your head. At least you didn’t think you were… But when you glanced down at yourself, you quickly realized why Tyler even asked. Your button down shirt was ripped– presumably from being grabbed, and the tank top beneath it had a few spots of blood splattered across the fabric. You weren’t even sure where it came from. 

“We gotta go,” Tyler said urgently.  

“The shelter–” you began, but Tyler shook his head. 

“Everyone’s heading that way, it’ll be full by now. Plus, we don’t have time– I looked outside and… it’s close.”

“What do we do?” you asked, voice trembling with fear. 

Tyler let his arms fall from your shoulders and instead grabbed onto one of your hands. He gave it a reassuring squeeze before nodding in the opposite direction of where everyone else was running. 

“The stairwell,” he said. 

You nodded shakily. “Okay.”

With that, Tyler was off– weaving his way in and out of the crowd. Luckily, it had thinned out dramatically– most people heading towards the parking lot or the storm shelter on the other side of the mall. Once you broke away from the thickest part of the crowd, Tyler’s grip loosened slightly on your hand. 

“C’mon,” he urged, leading you around the corner. At the very end of the hallway was the door that led to the stairwell. 

But you only made it a few feet down the hallway before you felt the floor shake beneath your feet. Only moments after, there was a loud bang just as a chunk of the roof was being ripped off the building. 

“Tyler–” you yelled. 

“Keep going,” he pleaded. 

With part of the roof separated, you could hear the winds whipping outside more clearly. The sound was deafening, like a freight train barrelling right for you. 

But even above the raging winds– you heard the cries of someone nearby. You looked to your left to see a mother and her child huddled underneath a display booth. 

“Tyler,” you said again, tugging on his arm. 

He slowed down, turning towards where your eyes were fixated. He hesitated, clearly conflicted on what to do. 

“We have to help them,” you said. 

His eyes scanned yours desperately before he nodded. “Wait here,” he said, releasing your hand. 

You watched as Tyler crossed the hall– trying to avoid the debris now falling from the roof. He called something out to the woman, but you couldn’t hear above the sound of the wind. It was enough to catch her attention though, because soon she was passing her son to Tyler. The poor boy couldn’t have been older than five or six. Tyler pulled him to his side with ease before reaching his other arm out and helping the mother up from underneath the table. 

Once she was on her feet, Tyler passed her back her son and pointed towards where you stood against the wall. She tucked her son’s head against her chest and began hurrying forward– Tyler at her heels as they fought against the increasing winds. 

“Take my hand,” you yelled. With the arm she wasn’t using to support her son, she reached for you. 

You grasped onto her and helped pull her against the wall. 

“Go to the stairwell,” you explained. “Get underneath them, as low as you can.”

She nodded, unshed tears glistening in her eyes before she began heading down the hall. 

Just then, you heard a deafening crack. You turned to see another piece of the roof being pulled off– causing large chunks of debris to begin falling. 

“Get down!” you heard Tyler holler. Using your arm, you shielded your head the best you could and shrank to the floor as the largest piece fell. A cloud of dust enveloped you as soon as it landed and you felt small pieces of debris bouncing against your skin– After a brief moment, you dared to look up. 

But Tyler was no longer standing in front of you. 

“Tyler!” you screamed. Without thinking, you moved forward, trying your best to stay low. But despite your best efforts, you were still caught off guard by the piece of metal that blew past your head, slicing open your skin– “Fuck!” you yelled, grabbing at your temple. When you pulled your hand away, your fingers were coated in a thick, crimson liquid. 

“Tyler!” you yelled again, voice growing increasingly frantic. 

“I’m here–” you heard him yell back, causing your shoulders to deflate slightly. As you crawled around the largest pile of debris, you saw him on the ground, moving a chunk of roofing off his foot. His eyes met yours, a flash of concern crossing his face when he saw your head. “You gotta get to the stairs–”

“No, no, no. Not without you,” you shook your head, continuing to move towards him as you felt the blood trickle down the side of your face. 

“The storm’s here– you gotta go. You gotta take cover,” he pleaded. 

“I’m not leaving you–” you cried, unable to control the tears burning behind your eyes. As they fell down your cheek, they mixed with the blood from your temple. Once you were crouched beside him, you used what little strength you had left to Tyler’s hand and pull him from the small pile of rubble. 

When you looked at the short distance between yourselves and the staircase door– you were surprised to see the woman, propping it open with her body and waving towards the two of you to hurry up. 

“Move–” Tyler encouraged, pushing you against the wind. “Go, go, go–”

You army-crawled forward, wincing as more debris nicked your skin. But finally– you reached the door. Tyler moved his hand to your waist and guided you towards the staircase. 

The woman reached for her son, who was crouched low in the corner. Meanwhile, Tyler moved you towards one of the railings. 

“Hold on to this–” he instructed. You wound your arms around the fixture.

"Don't go–" you begged.

But immediately after, you felt the warmth from his body wrap around you. You looked up and saw Tyler shielding your body with his own– his hands gripping the part of the railing just above yours.

“I got you,” he promised. “We’re gonna be okay, I got you,” he repeated. But soon his voice was swept away by the sound of the storm. 

The winds grew even louder as the tornado moved closer– the noise of various chunks of debris slamming into the ground around you made you shake. You squeezed your eyes shut– hoping and praying to whatever God might be out there that Tyler was right and you’d both be okay…

You weren’t sure how long the storm raged on. It felt like hours, although you knew that couldn't be right. Eventually though, the winds died down. In their absence, you could hear the sound of the woman comforting her son, along with Tyler’s labored breathing above you. 

With a shaky hand, you reached behind you– like you didn’t quite trust that he was still there. You felt the fabric of his jeans beneath your palm and sighed out the choppy breath that had been lodged in your throat. 

“Tyler,” you heaved pathetically, voice cracking. 

“I’m here,” he gasped, voice equally shaky as he gasped for air. “I got you.”

Nodding, you brushed your hair from your sweaty face and felt Tyler shift. Following his lead, you turned towards him. As soon as your eyes landed on him– hunched over and breathing like he’d just run five miles, you let out a choked sob. 

“Are you okay?” he panted.

“Tyler–” was all you could manage to blurt out. 

A calloused hand cupped your face– thumb trailing along your hairline. You winced when his thumb passed over a sensitive spot on your head from where you’d been hit earlier. “You’re okay,” he soothed. “We’ll get it checked out.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch as you desperately craved comfort from him. Seemingly picking up on your need, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tugged you into his chest. “We’re okay,” he repeated, hand moving to cup the back of your neck. You let your eyes fall shut– inhaling the scent of his T-shirt. Even though he was coated in sweat and dust, he still smelled so comforting and familiar. 

He planted a kiss on top of your head before panting, “We gotta get out of here.”

You nodded, and forced yourself to pull away from him. Tyler helped you to your feet, eyes studying to make sure you were steady before he turned towards the woman. 

“You guys okay?” he asked. 

She nodded, clutching tightly to her son, who was still in her arms. 

“Alright, c’mon– be careful where you step,” he said, helping them out from the staircase. Tyler led them past you and into the hall before coming back for you. 

You desperately tried to steady your shaking legs. You were wobbly on your feet, but with Tyler’s help, you managed to maneuver your way out from underneath the staircase. 

As soon as you were back in the hall, your breath caught in your throat at the sight. The entire mall was destroyed– the roof had caved in, creating mounds of rubble everywhere you looked. There was dust all over– and no one else in sight. 

“Tyler–” you croaked again. His name seemed to be the only words you were able to form in your shock. 

“C’mon,” he urged gently, pulling you along. 

You let him lead the way, eyes scanning the debris hopelessly. You stopped in your tracks the moment you saw the first body– it was a woman, probably in her late twenties, just like you. She had a mound of tile stacked on top of her and a trail of blood soaking through her yellow sweater. Her eyes were still open– like they were frozen in fear. 

“Don’t look,” Tyler’s voice cut through the fog. 

He put his body between you and her and placed his hands on both sides of your face, forcing your gaze to meet his. 

“Sh– she’s dead,” you trembled. 

Tyler nodded solemnly. “I know,” he nodded. “Don’t look, okay? Just keep your eyes on me.”

Tyler wound his arm around your shoulders and tugged you into his side. With his fingers digging into the fleshy part of your hip, he led you forward, bearing the majority of your weight. Eventually, he managed to lead you all out of the rubble of the mall. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Tyler turned and asked the woman again. She nodded before thanking him and heading off in the direction of an ambulance. 

Tyler seemed to have something similar in mind. 

“I want to go home,” you insisted. 

But Tyler shook his head. “You need to get your head checked out first.”

“Tyler, please–” you whimpered. 

He glanced down at you– seemingly noticing the way your voice cracked. His face softened the moment he saw the tears sliding down your cheeks. 

“Hey–” he said gently. “Baby, you’re okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“I just want to go home,” you repeated. 

“I know, baby. I know,” he soothed. “But your head– I really want them to take a look. Then we can go home.” 

You sunk your teeth into your lower lip. After a moment, you nodded defeatedly and let Tyler lead you the rest of the way to one of the many ambulances parked near what was left of the mall. 

The paramedic who got to you first was a middle aged man with a kind smile. He told you how brave you were as he shined a flashlight in your eyes, checking your pupils. 

When he moved to the wound on your temple, now coating your entire hairline in gooey blood, you grimaced. 

“This is gonna need a few stitches,” he said after inspecting it. 

Tyler sat beside you and let you squeeze his hand as tightly as you needed while the paramedic stitched you up. He applied a local anesthetic but you felt every second of the needle threading through your skin. 

You held onto Tyler like your life depended on it, trying to allow his words of affirmation and comfort to consume you. 

“Almost done,” the paramedic said before clipping the remainder of the thread. He placed a clean bandage on the side of your head and offered you a soft smile. “You did great,” he told you. 

Although you were feeling detached from just about everything right now, you nodded in response before letting Tyler pull you to your feet. 

“Think you can walk?” he asked. 

You nodded again, although you didn’t entirely hear him. 

“The parking garage collapsed– but Boone’s on his way. He’s gonna give us a ride home.”

“Okay,” you mumbled softly, letting yourself melt into Tyler’s side again. 

The road where you met Boone was a short walk, and you were thankfully starting to get feeling back in your legs. But even still, you let Tyler support the majority of your weight as he guided you towards Boone’s familiar, beat up truck. Tyler held open the door and helped you climb inside.

“Christ–” Boone said, turning in the driver’s seat to get a good look at you. 

“She’s okay,” Tyler answered, sliding into the backseat beside you. Although he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Boone. 

“How the hell did you guys make it through that?” Boone asked as he surveyed the destruction around you. You forced yourself not to look. Instead, you rested your head against Tyler’s shoulder. “The blockade guy told me the entire storm shelter collapsed. I guess too many people crammed inside, so they couldn’t shut the door good.”

You swallowed thickly. If you hadn’t found Tyler, the storm shelter was going to be your plan B– 

“We hid under the staircase,” he said as Boone began down the road. “Had Dexter been tracking anythin’ out this way?” 

The two proceeded to talk about the sudden impact of the storm and whatever else tornado chasers cared about. Meanwhile, Tyler’s thumb trailed up and down your bare arm soothingly, allowing you to tune it all out. 

When Boone pulled down your dirt driveway and put his car in park fifteen minutes later, he turned to face you. “I’m real glad you’re okay.”

You offered him a weak smile. “Me too.”

After thanking his friend, Tyler helped you out of the car and towards the house, his hand never leaving your waist until you were inside. 

“Couch or bed?” he asked, shutting the front door behind him. 

“Couch,” you murmured. The bed meant stairs, which you weren’t sure you were ready for quite yet. 

“You got it,” he said. 

Gently, Tyler helped lower you to the couch, where you curled up against the corduroy fabric and sighed. 

But your eyes snapped open quickly as soon as you realized that Tyler wasn’t laying down with you. 

“Where are you going?” you asked, trying (and failing) to mask the panic in your voice. You shifted and sat up, a sudden wave of pain hit your head, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut. You tried your best to mask it and force your eyes back open. It felt pathetic, but you didn’t really want Tyler out of your sight right now. 

He turned around instantly. “I was just gonna get you some water and an ice pack, baby. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” you said uneasily. Your eyes remained trained on him the entire time he maneuvered around the kitchen. You could tell he noticed, too. His eyes kept flickering up to check on you. 

He was back in less than a minute– but still you sighed a breath of relief. He set the glass of water down on the side table before taking a seat on the other end of the couch. 

He handed you the ice pack and watched sadly as you placed it on your temple with a wince. 

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Will you– will you lay down with me?” you asked him. 

Tyler nodded. “Of course, baby.” He opened his arms, making a spot for you to lay between his legs. With your back resting against his chest, Tyler wound one arm around your middle and used the other to hold the ice pack against your head for you. 

Using what little strength you had, you gripped his forearm. “Just... please don’t go,” you begged. 

Tyler pressed his lips on the top of your head. “I won’t– I’m right here,” he assured you. “Not goin’ anywhere.”

You exhaled a sigh of relief and laid your head back against his chest, finally feeling content.  

After a while, you were finally able to drift off in his embrace. Your body ached and your head throbbed, but everything felt more bearable when you were in Tyler’s arms.

[dollgxtz]

Ok a fic where reader and sylus are at a business meeting, she “offers” herself as payment (maybe as a joke or just to rile sylus idk) and he makes sure to remind her who she belongs to? Please???

Kindred Spirits

Word Count: 5.1k

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, possessiveness, ownership, spanking, hitting, slight blood mention, pet names like kitten & sweetie, creampie, rough sex, crying, slight fluff at the end :3

AN: Anon ur a literal genius. This has Sylus written all over it. Im so happy to be back posting another story for you all! Also happy to announce my masterlist is now complete and can be found in my pinned! Ty all! Enjoy and remember, my asks are open for any character, Sylus is just my husband LOL. Remember to read my pinned before requesting please! This is a bit tamer than my other stories but trust I am cooking up some deviant content as soon as I publish this one :33

“Finally…”

You nearly collapse near your front door. A whole week of your life. Gone. To what you ask? Dealing with wanderers on a special aid mission. Sure sure, the job paid well but it had been weeks since your last off day. Every time it seemed like one was around the corner here they go with some emergency call and a spill about how some rich politician needed help or something.

You were starting to get tired of cleaning up other people’s mistakes.

You fumbled with your keys, fingers numb from the biting cold. The wind whipped around you, making you shiver as you tried to fit the right key into the lock. Your breath came out in visible puffs, and you could feel the frustration building with each failed attempt. Finally, with a relieved sigh, you heard the click of the lock turning.

The still warm air is such a welcoming contrast to the wind and biting cold outside. You quickly shut your door and melt to the floor, your feet aching with relief as the pressure you had been putting on them subsided. Peace at last. Time for a hot shower an-

Your peace was cut short with the distinct tone of your phone ringing. And not just any ring tone. The one you had set specifically for a certain white haired man that only ever brought trouble. Wondering if you should even pick up, you bring the phone to your face, knowing that you were going to answer regardless.

“Sylus…I’m really tired. Can we talk lat-"

“Long time no see kitten. You should stop by for a bit, hm?”

You roll your eyes, suppressing the urge to scoff out loud. Arrogant prick, you think, irritated by his inability to let you finish a sentence without interrupting. How did he even know you were home now?

You sigh deeply, feeling the tension building, and rub your temples to alleviate the mounting frustration. No, you tell yourself firmly. You wouldn’t put up with this today. Maybe another day, but definitely not today.

"Actually, no. I just returned from a week-long aid mission. Not today," you say firmly, aiming to be clear and resolute in your decision to stay put. Sylus however, seems to sense the cracks in your resolve and only responds with a chuckle.

“I want to see you. I’ll have Luke and Kieran come get you since you’re so tired”.

“Hu-”

“See you soon. They’re en route. Ciao”

The phone clicks, signaling the end of the call. For whatever reason, your ever growing frustration simply dissipates, defeat taking its place. You should be used to this by now. Sylus always gets what he wants. And you always let him. It goes without saying that it’s the same way for you as well. At least, Sylus always gives you what you want if it doesn’t interfere with his need to lay his eyes on you at least once in awhile. He knew that you wouldn’t push this though. You both knew.

Deep down, you wanted to see him too.

You asked Luke and Kieran to wait outside for a bit while you took a brisk shower and freshened up. Those two had always been very patient and understanding. You felt bad “bossing” them around, and yet they always insisted that you could. Though Luke had admitted on one occasion that he never expected to be helping a girl find hair ties or carrying shopping bags while working for Onychinus.

The statement had made you laugh a bit. You finally finish dressing in some plain sweats and rush to the car. Luke and Kieran are waiting outside of a dark colored jeep. Not too flashy as to not draw attention, but it was still clearly very expensive.

“Actually miss, Boss wanted you to wear these” Luke says, holding out an expensive looking dress. Clearly designed by hand and tailored to your measurements. Kieran follows his lead, holding out a box containing a pair of earrings and a lavish looking necklace.

“Huh? What’s this for? A date?”

“Business. That’s all he said” Kieran chimed in. Although you couldn’t see their faces, you knew they had no reason to lie to you about this.

“Ah. Dragging me into more trouble. Got it”.

When the three of you finally arrived to the location, the sun had already set for the day. You darted your eyes back and forth, squinting above at the bright neon sign of the establishment.

“We’re not going to the N109 Zone? This is a nightclub…” you mutter, taken aback by the unfamiliar surroundings. When did this even get here? There were plenty of clubs in Linkon of course, but you never seemed to notice this one. Not that you knew much about the night life to begin with. People were lined up at the entrance, chatting, fixing makeup, or texting.

“Boss wants you here. He’s waiting inside. Enjoy your time miss” Luke said, amusement written all over his tone. He gets out of the passenger seat to open the door and lend you a hand. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to appear shaken up by the situation. Sylus was always full of surprises. This was no different, act confident.

At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself. After getting almost immediate entrance into the club with just a simple nod from the guard, you enter. As you walk inside the club, Luke and Kieran not far behind you, you can tell this was no ordinary night club. Everyone here was dressed lavishly and sharp, clearly possessing power and ulterior motives. A few eyes lay on you as you walk in, and you feel your hands start to sweat.

Keep cool. This isn’t the first time you’ve been around high ranking individuals. This is probably some test he set up…right? Or some kind of joke to get a laugh?

Clenching your fists, your eyes dart and search for a tall figure with white hair, feeling more nervous by the second that you don’t see him. You’re about to turn around and ask one of the twins, but at last your gaze settles on him, sipping on a glass of Gin Fizz. He’s sitting in a velvety booth by himself, people watching. He’s wearing his black button up with red streaks across it, coat hanging on his shoulders per usual. As if he felt you staring, his eyes shift to meet yours. He sets down his glass, giving you you a small smirk. His eyes narrow, sending a very clear message.

Come here.

As if you were suddenly possessed, your feet seem to start moving on their own. You weren’t sure if you were relieved to see him or if it was just the relief of seeing a familiar face in an unfamiliar place. You take a few deep breaths as you approach, readying your witful replies to any of his attempts to make fun of you. Without making any sound or looking at him, you quietly slide in next to him.

“You look nice. Seems I was right about this look on you” Sylus says, taking another sip of his drink. His eyes wander up and down behind the glass, seemingly devouring you. You squirm under his gaze.

“Hm. Thanks. This gift is the least you can do after dragging me to do whatever you want on a whim once again” you scoff, eyeing the full glass that sits on the table. It’s another glass of Gin Fizz, probably for Sylus. There’s three other very empty glasses on the table.

This man can definitely hold his alcohol.

He chuckles, taking a finger and pushing the glass of Gin closer to you.

“Don’t be like that sweetie. Loosen up a bit, you’ll need it”

“For what exactly? Business?” you mock, picking up the Gin. You didn’t exactly like the taste of this particular alcohol of choice but Sylus was right about one thing. Some liquid courage was definitely needed for whatever shenanigans he was dragging you into tonight.

“Yeah. Figured I could use Linkon’s darling Miss Hunter as backup” Sylus chuckles, watching you nearly choke as you take three big gulps of the drink. You squeeze your eyes in disgust as you finish the rest of the glass, shooting a death glare in his direction as you set it down.

“You’re perfectly capable. Don’t mock me Sylus”. You grit your teeth in irritation, almost ready to rip him to shreds with your words. Clearly your tone has no effect on him though, as all you get in return is a soft smile. Sylus places a hand on your upper leg, slowing sliding his fingers under your dress. You gasp, the coldness of his fingers making you twitch a bit. The warmness of your skin mixed with his cold touch makes the sensation feel like icy fire.

“Or what? You’ll use this on me?” he smirks, tugging on the concealed gun strapped under your dress. “I’m all for it honestly”

You slap his hand away, the woozy feeling from the Gin Fizz starting to kick in. What was in this drink? It was strong. Too strong.

“Pervert. Always touching me, making fun of me. Maybe I will shoot you. Again.” you growl, turning your head away from him. You attempt to scoot away as well, but are met with a strong grip around your waist as you’re pulled into closer proximity with him. Sylus grabs your chin and lifts it towards his face. He leans down a bit, the smell of alcohol and his bourbon vanilla cologne making you feel even more dizzy.

“You can put your claws away now kitten. Don’t make me have to melt your little tantrum away” he coos, gently caressing your face with his thumb.

You stare at him, dumbfounded, desperately searching your sluggish brain for a comeback but finding yourself too flustered to form any words. The look in Sylus’s eyes shifts from a smug expression to a much softer, almost tender gaze, and you wonder what his next move will be. Your face starts to burn as you feel heat rising in your core, your heart pounding in your chest. Panic sets in as you consider the possibilities, your mind racing with the fear of what might come next.

Don’t tell me he’s going to…?!

"You're so...confusing" you mutter.

You’re just about to try and squirm from his grip, when Luke and Kieran tap on the table, catching yalls attention.

“Boss man, Val says he’s ready for ya” Luke says, nonchalantly ignoring the scene that’s displayed in front of him. Sylus releases your face, his face going serious again. He gets up, reaching out a hand to help you out of the booth.

“Time for business, sweetie”

You’re guided by the twins and Sylus past the sweaty bodies on the dance floor to a somewhat hidden room located downstairs. The area the stairs led to was blocked off by a singular rope, clearly only meant for a select crowd.

In the room there’s a long black table, cards and chips all over it. There’s a few prominent figures already seated, along with a few bodyguards standing near the door. Sylus pulls a seat out for you, before taking his own. You study the figure that’s sitting at the head of the table as you sit. He’s short, a bit chubby, dark hair, smoking a cigar. A scar sits angrily on his forehead and you wonder what kinda grudges led to such an injury. He notices you looking at him, and gives you a devilish grin. Some of his teeth are crooked or missing.

All that money and he can't fix his smile?

You shudder. Sylus looks over at you, and back to the man at the head of the table. He’s reading you, clearly sensing your nervousness. He says nothing, simply reaching a hand over to rest on your thigh.

“Was starting to think you were going to keep me waiting Sylus. Seems you didn’t run after all” he laughs, wheezing a bit as he takes another puff of his cigar. You wrinkle your nose a bit as the potent smell hits your senses.

“I couldn’t turn down a game of cards with my dear old friend” Sylus says, irritation coating the last word. “Let’s keep things civil this time, hm Valentino?”

Valentino bursts into laughter, clearly amused. Despite his laughter, you couldn’t ignore the murderous tension in the air. Something tells you this isn’t any regular game of cards. You gulp, trying to force yourself to look at everyone at the table and smile.

“Well hello little lady. Sylus, you didn’t tell me you kept such gorgeous company…” Val says, his eyes snaking all over your body. You feel Sylus squeeze your thigh, clearly irritated. He pulls out a coin from his coat pocket, seemingly trying to channel his frustrations into something else.

“You know I’m not really the type to share, Val. She’s all mine. Down to every single strand of hair”. Sylus ends, catching the coin and shooting a glare in the man’s direction. It was plain, but conveyed a message very well.

You feel your palms start to sweat. Was he being serious right now?? You side eye him, trying to piece out whether or not this was some kind of facade you’re supposed to play into. Valentino clearly takes Sylus’s words as a challenge.

“I’ll give you twenty million for her. Maybe fifty million if you make her give us a little strip show. What do ya say? She looks so soft. Probably makes cute noises too…~” he chuckles, likely enjoying the look of surprise that washes across your face.

Sylus remains quiet, his face unmoving, frozen in a pissed glare. You don’t know if it was the alcohol you drank earlier, or if it was some inkling of an attempt to dissipate the tension, but you clear your throat and begin to speak.

“Well Sylus? You can share can’t you? It’s quite the generous offer Mr. Valentino. I’m quite flattered actually.” you express, putting on your best smug look. Sylus stiffens, a somewhat shocked expression washing over him. Valentino erupts into yet another fit of laughter, seemingly unable to contain himself. Turning to look back at Sylus, you see it in his face briefly. An uncaged look of rage before it quickly dissipates.

Shit. Shouldn’t have said that.

Far too late to stop now though.

“You heard the lady Sylus. Why don’t you try sharing just this once? What I would give to taste that sweet little body of he-”

Sylus slams a revolver on the table, then calmly starts picking up cards from the deck.

"I'd suggest you stop talking and start playing the game, Mr. Valentino," Sylus snarls, his words dripping with venom. The fury in his voice is palpable, and it's clear he's reached the end of his patience.

You give Val a sly look, feigning pity. “Ah, sorry Valentino. Seems this one can’t quite let me go yet”. You don’t know what you were trying to achieve, but it’s certainly not working to dissipate any tension. Val doesn’t respond to you though, all his focus on Sylus now.

“My dear friend. You should know me by now. There’s something I’m much more interested in now than some money. Now I want the girl, or nothing”.

Valentino wears a shit eating grin on his face, soaking in the fact that he thinks he’s gained some control of the situation, unaffected by the gun on the table. Sylus simply sighs, rubbing his fingers against the temple of his forehead.

“I see where this is going then”.

You barely process what’s happening before everything and everyone starts moving. As soon as Sylus begins to stand, Valentinos guards start shooting. Sylus wastes no time flipping the large table, sending the cards and game chips flying everywhere. You yelp as he yanks you towards him using his body and the table to shield the oncoming attack of bullets. You hear Luke and Kieran joining in the frenzy, yelling obscenities as they begin shooting their own hidden weapons.

You swiftly reach for the weapon concealed beneath your dress, your fingers brushing against the cool metal as you draw it out. Turning to face Sylus, you ready yourself for his instructions, your body tense with anticipation. Instead of giving you orders, he locks eyes with you, his gaze piercing through you with an intensity that feels like it's reaching into your very soul. The silence is heavy, charged with unspoken tension as bullets whip past the both of you, and you can feel your heartbeat quicken in response.

“I need you alive for what’s coming sweetie. Pay attention, stay close”

You blink. Twice. Unable to process his words before he yanks you both up, one hand using his evol to send the table crashing into several bodyguards. The four of you fight your way through the onslaught of people coming into the door, before eventually dashing up the stairs. People are running in all directions, seemingly caught up in the chaos of everything. You all manage to make it out the door and into the brisk cold air, the twins quickly hopping into the car to whisk you away.

“Go on, I’ll catch up soon” Sylus states, hurriedly pushing you into the car and slamming the door before you could protest. He signals Kieran to drive off, and that he does.

“He’s…going to level the building. Isn’t he?” you sigh, sighing at the fact that Sylus seemed to conveniently forget that this was in fact not the lawless land of the N109 Zone. No doubt the Hunter’s Association would have to investigate for potential wanderer activity, and that would be a lot of paperwork.

"It's fine. He owned that place anyway. He'll just build another," Luke says, his voice calm and unbothered. Just as the words leave his mouth, a deafening boom erupts behind the car, shaking the ground beneath yall. The explosion's shockwave rattles the windows, and the sky lights up with a fiery glow, cutting off Luke's next sentence mid-breath.

You groan.

The twins did drive you to the N109 this time, swiftly helping you out the car and into Sylus’s private villa. When you entered the front door, a nightgown and lacy underwear were laid neatly out for you in his room, your arrival clearly anticipated.

It wasn’t more than an hour before Sylus waltzed in the front door, eyeing your slouching figure on the couch. You sit up as soon as you see him, still somewhat annoyed.

“What took you so damn long? Also do you have to level every building you come across?” you spat, glaring at him. He says nothing though, walking straight past you and into his room.

“Huh? Sylus?? What the hell…”

Not liking the feeling of being ignored, you hurriedly chased after him. You had never really been uncomfortable barging into his room. You had done it plenty of times at this point, the first time being when he had challenged you to steal the brooch from him. No point in being shy now. He’s fumbling with something in his drawer when you reach up to tap his shoulder.

“Sylus! Don’t ignore me, I know you ca-”

He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist before you can touch him. His gaze is unreadable, cold even. You start to sweat, trying to take your arm back. But he only squeezes tighter.

"I was hoping you'd leave me be so I could calm down. But of course you're as petulant as ever" he says.

"Let go! What's wrong with you!?" You attempt to remove his hand from your wrist but he doesn't budge.

“Go to the bed. Place your hands on it” he says, face unchanging.

“Huh??”

“I don’t like to repeat myself”.

You freeze for only a moment before quickly moving to the bed. You meticulously put your hands where instructed, something deep in your core telling you that it’s likely best to listen for now. However, you can’t help to look over your should to quip at Sylus. You’re slightly bent at an angle, trying your best to keep your balance.

“What’s this about? I’m not that upset that you reduced the building to rubble”

Sylus snakes his way behind you, quietly, as if thinking of what to say. He reaches out a hand, grabbing the ends of your nightgown and moving the soft fabric around in his fingers. You feel the heat rise to your face, the skin of your ass feeling a slight gush of cold air.

“You like playing games with me, don’t you? Testing me” he says coldly, fingers trailing up the back of your legs slowly. You shiver, attempting to squirm away. His evol appears around you, its tight grip making you cry out.

Oh. This was about that.

“Huh?? No, I was just playing along. Just friendly banter yknow?” you say, voice wavering. You’ve clearly pissed him off. A part of you knows it’s a slight lie. You didn’t want to admit it out loud but it was kind of amusing to see Sylus get so riled up over something. Over you especially. But you hadn’t exactly done it fully on purpose. It was the alcohol.

But you knew he wasn’t buying it, as observant as he was.

“Sure. You were just pretending to act like a stray kitten trying to find a new owner?” he smirks, his fingers beginning to trace circles over the cloth of your panties. You let out a small whine, his touch just barely grazing your already wet cunt.

“Owner? I don’t belong to you. Or anyone” you scoff, the resolve in your voice wavering with every little circle he completes on your skin. You almost whine in disappointment when he pulls away.

“And yet…” Sylus trails off, leaving you with aching curiosity before you’re met with stinging pain on your ass. You cry out, unable to move with his evol still snaked around you. “You did exactly what I told you to do just now, wear the clothes I leave out for you, and practically melt everytime I even barely touch you”.

“Sylus?! What the hell was that…?!” you exclaim, trying your hardest to process his words and the situation at hand. He doesn’t respond, proceeding to gently caress the spot where he smacked you. The stinging pain gently eases away, and you feel yourself relaxing with his touch once again. He once again trails his fingers down to your clothed pussy, rubbing slow and meticulous circles around it. You start to whine, attempting to push yourself into his fingers for more friction. He pulls his hand away, making a disapproving sigh.

“Acting like you’re in heat per usual” he chuckles, watching as you wiggle around under the grip of his evol. “This is a punishment”.

“For what? Cause I let some sick and ugly looking crime boss think he had a chance with me?”

Sylus wastes no time bringing his hand to your ass again, earning another painful whine out of you. You feel tears forming in your eyes that you can’t wipe away. He’s certainly not holding back his strength, and yet you know this isn’t even a third of the force he could use on you.

“For entertaining him” he says plainly.

Another smack.

“Another for stupidly handing over your life, body and soul for a measly twenty million”

An even harder hit, this one fueled by rage.

“And lastly…”

You nearly choke as he delivers the final blow, your ass definitely bruising by now. Sylus offers no comfort this time, instead leaning down next to your crying face, breath hot against your ear.

“For forgetting that you belong to me, just as much as I belong to you. Kindred spirits remember?”

You have no chance to respond before he’s flipping you on your back, your nightgown flying up to reveal your wet panties.

“I-im sorry, Sy” you choke, tears blurring your vision.

“Show me then, sweetie. Spread your legs. Wide” he instructs, reaching up to brush your tears away. This isn’t done lovingly, more like calculated and cold.

This is far from over.

You silently but shakingly open your legs, your ass still painfully aching from his assault. You’re surprised when he doesn’t rip your underwear in two, choosing to rather peel them off your legs slowly. You notice the hunger in his eyes as he does so, as if savoring the view of your cunt at his fingertips. A small drop of arousal pools down your ass, and Sylus scoops it up with one finger.

You watch as he puts his finger in his mouth, savoring the drop of you with swiftness. His piercing gaze never leaves yours though, and you want to suddenly run away and hide. This is beyond thrilling, but you try your best to remain as still as possible, scared that he’ll think you’re enjoying it too much and punish you accordingly.

You suddenly can’t take the tension anymore, and close your eyes. You hear the sound of Sylus removing his belt from its loops, then the loud clang as it hits the floor. You feel the bed shift as he lowers himself over you, his face stopping just inches over yours, indicated by the sudden feel and warmth of his breath. He grabs your face in his hand and squeezes your jaw. Hard.

“Look at me kitten” he commands, his tone filled with unkempt rage and anger. Your eyes fly open, terrified.

“I’m the only one that will ever taste you. Repeat it” he says. Before you can get a word out, he’s pushing the fat tip of his cock in your entrance. You cry out in agony, nowhere near ready to have been penetrated. But he doesn’t stop filling you.

“Repeat it. Or I’ll hit you again. Do you want that?”

“You’re t-the…ah!” you whine, his cock halfway inside you at this point. Your poor cunt feels like it’s being impaled, splitting pain soaring through your core.

“Try again”

You let out a whimper, trying your best to push through the pain and put thoughts into words.

“You’re the oh-only one that gets to taste me” you choke out, voice wavering and your eyes teary. Sylus gives a hard thrust, pushing the rest of his length inside you. You cry out again, feeling like you’re on the verge of passing out. Sylus seems unmoved by your outbursts though.

“And?”

You stare at him, barely able to see his face through the tears. What? What does he mean and? He didn’t say anything else did he?

“Hu-what?”

You hear him sigh with disapproval, giving you yet another hard thrust. And another. And another. You’re clinging onto his back now, nails digging into his skin as the sound of the bed creaking and your pants fill the room. Blood has probably been drawn on his back, not that he’d even notice. You can hear him grunting in your ear, clearly enjoying the feeling of you tightening around him when you tense from the pain. Although it still hurts, you can feel yourself accumulating to the shape and size of his length, and the pain lessons a bit more with each thrust. He stops once again, tilting your face in his grip.

“What did I say you forgot? Or is this kitten filled with too much cock to think straight now?” he mocks. You can hear the smile on his face despite not being able to see him clearly. Heat creeps up on your cheeks as you wrack your brain for answers.

“I-you…we’re kindred spirits?”

“Before that sweetie”

You blink the tears on your face away, your vision becoming a bit more clear. Although he’s still gazing down at you, his expression is not as angry as before. Seems he’s gotten a bit of his pent up anger out now.

“I belong to you, Sylus” you say, voice small and whiny from crying. That’s definitely what he wanted to hear, as he began to pepper kisses on your neck, on your cheek, and eventually resting on your lips. You greedily return his affection, leaning into this feverish kiss, the both of you only periodically stopping to pant for air between kisses. He stops, resting his forehead with yours, gazing into your eyes once more.

“And I belong to you. What’s mine is yours. All of it”

You don’t get a chance to respond before he’s thrusting again, this time with a continuous and steady pace. You cling onto him, the exchange of flowery words and rigorous thrusting already bringing you on the verge of ecstasy. Sylus already noticed long before you did though, as he brought his hand between the two of you, circling your clit further your stimulation.

“Go ahead, come undone for me” he whispers, voice strained for nearly being at his end too. Your body obeys, unraveling and writhing with pleasure as Sylus continues to pound into you. You ride your orgasm to its end, till the touching of your clit becomes too much and you whine from overstimulation.

“Sylus…!” you moan, and he stops, already at the start of his own climax. You shudder as you feel him spill into you, his seed immediately beginning to pool down your cunt and to your ass. He pulls his heavy cock out of you, a feeling of emptiness taking its place. For a moment nothing is said, just the sound of the both of you catching your breath.

You decide to break the silence.

“Sylus…I’m really sorry” you start, looking up at him. He simply chuckles, placing a kiss on your cheek before getting up to grab a rag from the bathroom.

“You’ve taken your punishment quite well, why are you apologizing again sweetie?” he says from the bathroom, coming back to wipe you clean. You scoff, slightly tensing from the coldness of the cloth.

“Hmph. Fine, I take it back then. I’m holding a grudge anyways for how hard you hit me”

He simply sighs as he finishes wiping you up. “Back with the infamous wit already? Can’t a man catch a break?”

You sit up, feeling emboldened once more.

“Nope. Maybe don’t hit me with the strength of a thousand suns next time and we’ll see”

Sylus tosses the rag in a laundry basket, making his way back to your side. He pulls you into his arms, embracing you in his warmth. You can’t help but smile against his chest.

“Well, good thing I have all night to make it up to you”

You lightly pinch his side, giggling into his embrace. A question crosses your mind.

"Did you mean it Sylus? We belong to each other?"

Sylus took your face in his hand, giving you a slight smile.

"I don't say stuff I don't mean. You know this"

That's the furthest he was willing to explain it. At least for now. Who knows what kind of power trip would ensue if you truly knew how much you had the big bad leader of Onychinus wrapped around your finger.