#king!sylus

[comatosebunny09]

serve & protect [ prologue ] | sylus

— summary: you’ve stood dutifully by his side for years. seen him at his worst, not once letting that side of him deter you. can you blame him for craving more than your loyalty? — cw: royalty au, king sylus, femme reader, knight/bodyguard reader, mutual pining, brief mention of injury, marking, tension, jealousy, kind of a slow burn, will get steamier — notes: a reimagining of something i wrote a few years ago. heavily inspired by final fantasy xv & the beast within (2024) movie. tysm for reading! — now playing: waltz no.2 - cihat aşkın 

You would feel bad for badgering him if he wasn’t prone to disappearing like this. 

Prone to shirking off his duties like an entire kingdom didn’t rely on his guidance. 

You sigh for the umpteenth time amid the night-blooming jasmines. Fingers tighten around the strapped leather grip of your sword, fastened to your hip. Your feet move on autopilot, carrying you through the garden on a path you’re all too familiar with, the grass shining with dew and crunching beneath your feet. 

Your shift just began after a grueling week of training. Yet, you’ve already been tasked by his royal advisor with locating your charge before even shrugging into your coat. You’ve become something of a glorified babysitter these days, practically telling your liege when to eat.

If not for his advisor threatening to lop your head off—he could very well try—you would leave the king be. He hasn’t found much reprieve these days, what with neighboring countries pushing for peace treaties, reformation efforts to rebuild the outlying cities, and distant kingdoms shoving their daughters at him for marriage, amongst a slew of other issues.

It isn’t uncommon for your charge to slip away when the weight of the world is too much to shoulder. For him to retire to his private garden to catch his breath. He’ll never admit it aloud, but shouldering an entire kingdom on his own deepens the violet bags hanging beneath his eyes. The sleepless nights. The impending anxiety stewing in his gut.

Only you know of the secret passageways that lead to his most favored spots in the garden, where his servants get lost trying to navigate the network of rose bushes arranged like a labyrinth to keep them out.

It’s often your responsibility to fetch him since you work more intimately with him than anyone else. You know His Majesty’s habits like they were mapped on the back of your hand. You wouldn’t have it any other way; it’s nice to be the only person allowed into these private quadrants of his life.

A shock of white stains your peripheral, peacefully nestled between swaying hydrangeas. 

You near him, noting that he’s propped up on an ironwood bench. His head is lowered and crooked to one side, arms folded over a broad chest, lips slightly parted. A book rests open and forgotten on his thigh, legs crossed. You tamp down a smile when you realize he’s fast asleep.

“Your Majesty,” you beckon with a hidden fondness as your steps slow to a stop before him.

He doesn’t stir. Of course, you don’t expect him to. When sleep claims him, it’s hard to free him from its ivy-like crawl.

You kneel dutifully, bowing your head, your sword scrawling a thick line in the dirt. You caution his name again, the sound of your voice competing with that of the breeze threading through the leaves. 

Still nothing. Just the steady rhythm of his breaths and distant morning birds singing their symphony around you.

With a sigh, you incline your head to look up. And what a mistake that proves to be, traitorous butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

He’s a beautiful contradiction amid the soft stir of pastel flowers. A dark cutout of regality, slumbering like a dragon guarding its treasure. 

His hair is reminiscent of a thick blanket of snow, piling itself amongst the treetops. He wears summer skin in the midst of spring. Stretched taut over a pretty Roman nose, angular features, full lips. He’s ethereal, limned in the sun’s amber glow, a sight that could bring the end of days or sink ships to the bottom of the sea. Thick, furled lashes dance with dreams beneath furrowed brows. A gruff sound escapes his mouth as he lightly stirs before falling still again.

Even in sleep, he maintains the intensity with which he’s known to rule.

A quaint smile touches your lips. You quell an impulse to soothe the divot between his brows with your thumb. To smooth out the hard press of his lips together. A well-timed gust of wind kicks in, rustling the velvet-soft hair framing his face.

Your fingers twitch with an impulse to touch. To tuck those unruly locks behind his ear. You instead curl them into a loose fist on the ground, quietly chiding yourself for allowing such thoughts to trickle in. 

He is your charge—your king. Affectionate gestures like that are forbidden. A conflict of interest, no matter how harmless they may seem. 

Besides, you’re unworthy of touching him. There’s dirt caked beneath your nails and an ever-present film of grime adorning your cheeks. He should have someone of equal stature smiling at his side. A pretty, glittering doll in flowery dresses, well-versed in the tongue of nobility. In the art of being poised and prim.

You’re a mere servant. A shield to be used at his disposal, your hands battle-worn and skin sun-kissed. You threw away all hope for love when you took an oath, binding your life to his and pledging your fealty to him. 

He handpicked you to serve as his personal bodyguard, a decision you still grapple with several years later. Many seasoned knights served in the royal guard longer than you’ve held a sword. You would never do anything to jeopardize his trust, to betray his kindness. 

The affection that unfurls like lotus petals in your chest for him is deep-rooted. However, it results from serving under him for so long and nothing more.

At least…

That’s what you tell yourself whenever his gaze lingers a little too long, pilfering the air from your lungs. 

Or when his dexterous fingers brush over your wrist under the guise of reaching for something in front of you. 

When he presses a warm and possessive hand at the small of your back whenever you tour the citadel’s grounds with him, or he requests your input on something at his desk. 

When he flashes a rare quirk of lips that’s boyish and dimpled and disarming when he thinks no one else is the wiser.

You clear your throat, remembering yourself. Your voice is more assertive this time, dispelling the nebulous haze of your musings. 

“Your Majesty, please. You have to get up.” The urge to stroke his cheek returns. You squeeze your thigh to curb it.

As if the Gods grant you mercy, that does the trick. 

His lashes flutter, and his voice is thick and raspy, rolling like thunder over the horizon in his chest. You watch him blink away the bleariness, the scarlet wash of his irises causing your heart to pull. 

Your king studies you as if making out the colors and texture of your face. You try not to shiver under his scrutiny, instead looking away as warmth inhabits your face. You’ve always found his eyes to be one of his most devastating features. They could easily glean through the mist of your mind, your guise, reading you like the yellowed pages of a book, even without tapping into the power residing in his right eye.

Heat permeates through the thickness of your uniform when, after setting his book aside, he suddenly pitches himself forward, elbows digging into the pockets of his knees. He rests his chin atop his folded together fingers, and you don’t need to fully look at him to see the smirk crooking his lips. The scent of unfettered energy and stripped sandalwood rolls off his skin, curling around your senses, threatening to root your tongue to the roof of your mouth.

The air between you is rife with tension. So thick, you can cleave through it with your blade. Your king watches you amusedly, and you do everything within your power to resist the bewitching pull of his gaze. The comfort and strength he exudes.

When he speaks, you nearly jump fifty feet out of your skin. His voice is as devastating as his eyes, puddling in your stomach, turning your brain to smog.

“I knew you were there all along. That’s why I didn’t bother opening my eyes. I was merely resting them.”

You scoff despite the anxiety scorching your innards. Closing your eyes, you retort under your breath, though loud enough for him to hear, “Sure, Majesty. You were resting your eyes while snoring with drool running down your chin.”

Your charge releases an indignant sound from the back of his throat, reeling back to touch his face, mortified. Your shoulders shake with your quiet laughter, and you hide the round tug of your lips behind your fist.

“Funny,” he says, and he gives you a look. One he’s used to silence an entire court of hecklers, its sharpness boding danger.

You clear your throat, donning that straight-faced mask you’ve grown so accustomed to wearing. You’re friends—childhood companions—yet you know when to shift from candid to serious.  

Recalling why you were initially sent to fetch him, you stand to full height, brushing the dust off your hands on your thighs before snapping to attention. Your king raises a brow as if sensing something on your mind. 

“At ease,” he orders, his voice devoid of its usual sternness as he leans back against the bench, a long arm draped along the bench’s headrest. 

You get a good look at the veins peering through the cuffed sleeve of his button-up, spilling down his forearm to puddle at the back of his hand. You swallow against the barbs forming in your throat, your mouth growing dry.

“Speak freely.”

You nod, your hands clasped together at the small of your back. “You have a brunch date with the Queen of Universum today, sir.”

He blinks as if this information is news to him before recollection forms between his brows. His Majesty scowls, drumming his fingers on the bench’s rim impatiently. “Of course. Another noble here to throw their daughter at my feet.”

Your shoulders slightly drop at the dejection in his tone. You wish people weren’t so insistent that he take a wife. His father ruled just fine without one following the death of his mother. Still, having been around His Majesty so long, you understand why it’s imperative he marry soon. 

Your shoulder throbs dully, serving as your reminder. 

You try to ignore how the thought of some pretty noble wrapped around his arm makes you bristle, green-eyed feelings stewing in your belly. It would never be you—never could be you. You’re content with being his handler, watching him mutter obscenities over paperwork from your position at his door.

“How does that make you feel?” His Majesty suddenly asks, a teasing edge to his voice.

You blink, caught off guard. “M-Me?”

His chuckle is rich and endearing, and you unconsciously step back when he stands, swaddling you in his warmth and imposing aura. Stuffing a hand into his pocket, he pokes your nose, and you go cross-eyed looking at his slender finger.

“Yes, you. How does it make you feel, knowing that so many women would kill to take my name?”

He’s trying to get a rise out of you. Trying to weasel something out of you you’ve tucked in the deepest regions of your mind. You don’t humor him; instead, you give him a haughty look, your chin defiantly jutting forward. 

“I think anyone willing to marry you is clinically insane.”

He laughs at your brazenness, your teasing, full-bodied and soothing. Dimples crater his cheeks, and the softness washing over his eyes causes a smile to twitch your lips. Without warning, idle fingers scorch your skin through the fabric of your jacket, easing down your arm, past the crook of your elbow, further still…

You’re breathless as His Majesty coaxes a hand from behind your back, and you watch with slightly parted lips and through the wispy sweep of your lashes as he draws it to his mouth. His eyes drill into the hulls of your soul whilst his molten lips brush your knuckles. He kisses them with such tenderness, such reverence, as if you’re an idol forged from glass, meant to be preserved in a museum.

The sound of your pulse pounding like a war drum blots out every bit of noise around. Your throat thickens, tongue bolted to the roof of your mouth. 

“Good morning, by the way,” he drawls as if ensnaring you in a secret, his warm breath ghosting your skin, limber fingers scorching your hand to the bone. 

You snatch away quicker than you mean to. Smooth your palm down your thigh before pinching yourself, studying the blades of grass licking at your boots. You wish you hadn’t caught sight of the fleeting pain in his expression. Wish you hadn’t been the cause of it.

“W-We should get going, sir,” you divert, trying to hide the shakiness of your voice.

He pushes out a weighted breath, stuffing the hand once curled around yours into his opposing pocket. “Lead on, then, dear friend.”

“Right.” With a curt nod, you turn on your heel towards the patchwork of greenery you emerged from.

He follows wordlessly, closely, a towering presence at your back, footfalls weighted in the grass, swallowing up the sound of your smaller ones. Static charges between you, imbued with something potent. You practically feel his eyes boring holes into the space between your shoulder blades.

You try to no avail to quell your thundering heart. To ignore how your knuckles throb where his lips imprinted themselves on the rough stretch of skin. 

You wince, inwardly warring with yourself, praying that His Majesty keeps his hands to himself long enough to get through his meal with the Queen. 

You could only dream he would behave.

His Majesty is as infuriating as he is handsome.

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[kushinadragneel]

Sylus brainrot bcs I cannot stop it so

Dad! Sylus, dragon! Sylus (blame my friend and our rp, I adore them), king Sylus actually, twins (I love how the whole fandom seems to agree on that), headcanons, short

Genres: fluff, kind of hurt/comfort with a lil bit of angst/sad, very indulgent, might be a bit ooc, admittedly very influenced by my oc as the thoughts swirled with her in mind

Mentions: pregnancy, female anatomy, motherhood, post partum, insecurities, lactation (not the kinky kind)

Dragons were peculiar beings, you've found out as quite the only human in this weird, entirely draconic kingdom. Though, so to speak, you were the weird one here, lacking horns, scales, a tail…

To say you've had many to learn was an understatement. From heats to mating to their habits, everything had been new.

But there you were, mated to their very king and very much pregnant sooner than quite expected to Sylus's delight.

So here's how your pregnancy goes:

Sylus discovered you were pregnant before you even thought of it. He said your scent got sweeter

You were put on rest instantly. Wrapped in furs that deeply smelled of the both of you, with the finest of silk as clothes and constantly doted on

His habit of scenting you? Got even worse. He's constantly glued to your side. Claims he can't help it, it's in his very instinct to protect you.

He was constantly piling up food on your plate

One child was a blessing. Hearing two heartbeats? Unheard of. Unprecedented

He was glued constantly to your tummy so he heard them. He denies crying to this point, but his eyes had been watery

Carries you whenever for his own pleasure. Your feet have barely met the ground, even as you got fuller and heavier

Massages you when he feels you being restless or tired

Constantly caresses your tummy and talks to the babies

Guilty of taking naps with you, curled around you protectively

Also guilty about stirring the twins with his nips, licks and caresses (got decked one too many times by his babies)

You and him bickered on who the kids will resemble (they ended up mini carbon copies of him)

Dragons do start being more welcoming to you and you slowly start feeling included in the community you're very emotional about it

"One carries a child for 9 months and they end up looking like their father!" one of the dragons playfully complained, pretty much in a similar situation to you. "Doesn't it ever bother you?" she asked curiously

No, it doesn't. Sylus is the favorite parents and the twins have your temper. Bless his patience

Talking of patience, he's had plenty of it with you. Especially as you were pretty much glued to his side and snappy to everyone else your instincts craved your mate pretty heavily during the pregnancy. And after

Talking of after

The first two weeks had been so hectic you were more in and out of sleep, barely remembering anything

Sylus is the light sleeper between the two of you. Surprisingly attuned to the kids, considering they barely start squirming and he's already picking them up

He's constantly scenting them. Playing with them. Is a natural at holding them in the weirdest positions while they babble and laugh

Very protective and possessive of them. Nobody but you and the doctors are allowed to touch his precious treasures (even the doctors are constantly under his scrutinizing gaze)

He does so much it's quite making you feel bad. Especially as the twins seem to favor him right out the womb and seem to need you just for feeding

It's been two weeks and you barely even remember anything. It crushes your soul, especially as one of the babies starts getting fuzzy and he is again the one reaching out for them, soothing the precious chubby cub between his arms.

It makes you sniffle and you have quite the breakdown about not being a good enough mom, crying about how he's doing everything and you barely feel like you've done anything.

He soothes you by holding you closely and nuzzling your hair. "You deserve to rest. You're doing more than enough. Let yourself heal"

You get worried about how much time he actually spends glued to your side, simply because it feels like he's ignoring his duties as a king because of you

He does explain to you that dragons do understand and nobody would be insane enough to expect him to not be by your side constantly at first

Tender moments

He always makes sure to have a regular bath prepared for you and is keen on washing your hair

He truly is a fiend. A kiss stealing fiend

His hands are so gentle over your body, massaging oils and kissing every inch of you. God forbid you ever feel less than wanted, he would snap someone's neck

He's still a flirt with you, just softer

He's actually more worried than you, he just doesn't let it on

He has to stop himself from growling whenever his kids stumble or cry at anything they find scary

The twins are menaces. He spoils them too much

He plays fight with them in the way wolves and lions do. He fakes being tackled to the ground and everything. Barely has the heart to scold them when they nip a bit too seriously at his skin

Though, he does have the heart to scold them when they try the same with you. He's very stern about your safety

[yourstrulysylus]

“This power tastes not bad.”

“Save some for me.”

[scarletardor]

EXPECTING (W. SYLUS QIN) wc. 366. involves discussion of pregnancy, abortion. possible allusions to a one night stand/multiple affairs. reader has conflicted feelings about pregnancy. sylus is oddly sweet. (he's a good man savannah)

it’s a nerve wracking sensation when you type out the text, more so when you press ‘send.’ (“do you have time to talk? it’s urgent.”) while you were initially set on one decision about the newfound knowledge of what was happening with your body, you felt it was only right to reach out to the other person responsible for this change.

sylus responds to your urgency with a phone call, and you don’t sugarcoat a thing. you don’t give him time to finish greeting you with that grating lilt of his smooth voice.

“missing me al—” “i’m pregnant.”

it’s funny how quickly he leaves the n109 zone, to be by your side in linkon city. no matter the feelings you had before, and no matter the mystery of what you two saw each other as after you mission wrapped up, you’re grateful he’s made it a priority to be with you in this moment. a reminder that his good graces always surrounded being at your side in an instant whenever you called.

you didn’t realize how much you needed him, needed someone, until you’re both sitting down in your living room and talking about everything in depth. in short, sylus supports you with whatever choice you settle on. but as he begins to explain the logistics of aftercare following an abortion, talking about doctors and clinics he knows of… you find yourself feeling oddly emotional.

despite the shared feeling that neither of you sought out the ambition to have children, you see yourself with sylus, raising a powerful, compassionate soul. a being that would be so precious and dear to the both of you. someone who would hold a piece of you, a piece of him. in your lost thoughts, you don’t recognize the slow onslaught of tears that fills up in your eyes, and it’s sylus’ touch brushing against your cheek to catch the droplets before they fall entirely.

“whatever you choose, i won’t hesitate to be by your side. you are my priority, above all else.” he assures you in an oddly tender tone, “this is your choice, and no one will take that from you. they wouldn’t even get the chance.”

[cloudwisp]

“They say a gentle touch is an alluring trap that can lead to your fall from grace. In any case, I’ll take the leap if this means we will never be separated.”

[starmocha]

Bride of the Dragon King :: Prelude

[Sylus/Reader ★ 465 words  ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Tonight, the wine tasted so sweet. A/N: I yapped on my tumblr about how I wanted a dragon!Sylus AU…so I willed it into existence. 😊 This is the prelude to a technically 3-part story. The main story will be a 20K+ word one-shot, so I feel justified in a shorter intro. I am still finalizing the main story, so I want to give people time to read the prelude first. While the prelude is SFW, the main story and epilogue will contain explicit adult themes, so it's best for MDNI. Influenced to varying degree by the Vietnamese origin myth, Lạc Long Quân and Âu Cơ, and the C-drama, Miss the Dragon…and probably a whole slew of other period C-dramas I watched in the past. Recommended Playlist Love and Deepspace - Wander In Wonder Shuang Sheng - 流转莹回 ☆ I can do a tag list for the main story once it's up. Just let me know in the replies, and I'll keep a list handy. ☆

Distantly, in the Celestial Realm where the immortals resided, the vast kingdom of the Dragon King was shrouded in nighttime for all of eternity, stuck within an eternal spring. Pink petals from the ever-blooming flowers of the magnolia trees were carried away in the warm breeze across the palace courtyard.

Sylus, the Dragon King, lazed under a grand magnolia tree with red blossoms overlooking a large koi pond, his solemn gaze lingering on the reflection of the full moon in the still water. He poured wine from a crimson porcelain bottle into the matching cup, and he took a swig of his drink, sighing.

The moon is lovely tonight… he thought, The wine tastes so sweet…

Red magnolia blossoms drifted down from the tree, landing in the water and startling the fish beneath, the immediate ripples distorted the reflection of the moon. Sylus kept his own crimson eyes on the floating flowers.

Little Snake, this is not much, but you are welcome to stay with me for as long as you would like!

He huffed in amusement, eyes drifting to a different flower.

You are so shameless. How can you ask a maiden to bathe with you?

He poured another drink, chuckling, but there was little joy in his laughter.

You are not allowed to get hurt! …Promise me you won’t get hurt again...

His cup lingered at his lips momentarily, a look of guilt flashed across his features before he tossed the drink back, sighing heavily.

Sylus…I don’t want you to leave…

He leaned back against the tree, eyes wandering to the moon. On the ground next to him was a necklace, its pendant pure gold with a jade border. Engraved on one side was the image of a dragon with wisps of cloud beneath it. When Sylus picked it up, his fingers caressed the other side, tracing the characters that formed the word, “Beloved.”

Another flower drifted into the pond, spinning slowly before it floated away.

…Who are you?

He closed his eyes, his hand tightening into a fist around the pendant as he made his decision.

He was going to rewrite their story. The red thread that tethered them together was going to unravel and lead her back to him.

All of it was going to be undone, and a new ending was going to replace all of the tragedies that were and were to be.

For her…

Heaven and Hell were going to bend to his will, he vowed.

For us…

As Sylus finished the wine, a white mist enveloped him, swirling before scattering and leaving nothing in its place beneath this red magnolia tree. In the night sky, among the millions of stars, a white dragon flew away, his scales shimmered in the moonlight before he disappeared into the horizon.

[grabby-smitten]

Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. Rafayel isn’t thaaat short. He’s tall. It’s just that the others seem bigger/wider for some reason.

INFOLD GIVE US THE SHOULDERS MEASUREMENTS!!!!!!!!

[nameuserlee]

yes, even onychinus’ leader can rock glasses, if the situation calls for it. 🖤

[kaidabakugou]

♡ cw: blood | blood as lube | biting | rough sex | cannibalism if you squint :)

♡ a/n: you know i’m coming out of my unofficial hiatus when i start talking about blood and cannibalistic urges 🙂‍↕️

ik i’ve said it before but idc tbe thought of using blood as lube drives me absolutely insane

not gonna go too much into detail bc i’m using the concept towards a piece i’m working on but the thought of being so lost in pleasure that the longer they’re buried inside of the other, the more animalistic it turns. soft touches turning into bruising grips, feathery kisses into desperate biting until one can’t help but dig their teeth deeper into the other until the flesh gives

breathing heavily against their skin and arms tightening around each other until blood fills their mouth. dark pupils burning holes into the other as they watch it drip from their mouth down between your bodies, easing their pace as they continue to plunge their cock forward

[saltykoalamusic]

Gentle reminder, when interacting with foreign media you need to understand the social norms of the country.

[giftofshae]

Oh, that photoshoot event really prepped me for the quad-banner, like did y’all see how Xavier spread MC’s legs open???? 😳🫣

[yourstrulysylus]

There is something so indescribably sexy about the way Sylus carries us bridal style in his own house.

Love the luxurious details of Sylus’s shirt here (and i love him in white pants so much ugh) while our legs draped over him like its exactly where it belongs, its giving power couple energy with just the right amount of intimacy.

[scarletardor]

have u ever tried this one?

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

This part has me smiling from ear to ear like a fool 💘 I love SylusMC so much, they deserve eternal happiness

[starmocha]

These were all so cuteee brb changing my wallpapers again 🥹🥹🥹

[grabby-smitten]

I wonder if somehow he knows what Caleb was doing and how upset we felt so he called to bring some… comfort? (I’m deluluing)