#lnds x mc

[connorsui]

Marked in Metal

Caleb... loves ... buying you rings.

It wasn’t something you directly questioned—at least, not seriously. He had always been like that, always finding little things to slip into your life as a form of joy. Bracelets, necklaces, little earrings here and there.

But ...rings?

Oh, those were his favorite.

— Princess cut, Briolette, Trilliant, Radiant.

Oval and round. The entire catalog.

And it wasn’t just about the aesthetic. No, it was something else entirely—something unspoken in the way he always lingered just a second longer when slipping the ring onto your finger, something in the way his eyes darkened with quiet satisfaction whenever you lifted your hand, light catching on whatever new piece he had picked out for you.

Like now for instances.

"Here," he said one afternoon, handing you a small velvet box. His voice was casual, but his fingers brushed yours when you took it from him. "Saw this new piece on my way home and thought of you."

You barely glanced up from your work before popping the box open, the soft click of the latch followed by a quiet inhale as you took in the ring nestled inside. A smooth sterling silver band, sleek and polished, with fluted rose gold prongs holding a citrine gem. The cut was extravagant, the kind of thing that should have been reserved for engagement rings, but you had long stopped questioning Caleb’s taste.

"Caleb," you groaned, rolling your eyes but still sliding it onto your finger. It fit perfectly, as they always did. "You have to stop doing this."

"And why should I?" He smirked, leaning back against the couch, arm thrown over the backrest as he watched you admire the ring despite your protests. "Looks good on you."

You twisted your fingers, letting the metal catch the light. He could see it in your face—the way your lips curved slightly, the way your brows relaxed—that moment of pure, genuine appreciation. He memorized that expression every time.

Because no matter how much you insisted it was too much, you never turned them down.

And he never had to worry about you asking how much they cost.

But it wasn’t about the price anyway. It was about the way you wore them, the way your hands danced through the air when you talked, your fingers adorned with pieces he had chosen. It was about the quiet thrill of watching everyone else notice, of knowing that every time someone asked where you got them, your answer was always the same.

"Caleb, obviously. He’s the reason I have half my jewelry box."

That was enough for him.

But this one was different.

"Wait, Caleb?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, amused and lilting. "Did you know this was engraved?"

You held up the ring between your fingers, tilting it just enough for the small inscription inside to catch the light.

.C.

Delicate, subtle, almost invisible unless you were looking for it.

He raised a brow, feigning nonchalance. "Oh? …I don't actually remember seeing that anywhere?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You seriously didn't notice?"

"Guess not." He shrugged, and you huffed out a laugh, shaking your head.

"I don’t think I believe you."

He didn’t respond, only watching as you lifted your phone, snapping a picture. Within minutes, your messages flooded with the usual teasing.

"Another one? Does Caleb just collect rings for you now?"

"That’s basically a proposal, babe!"

"Correction. This is the one billionth proposal"

And, as always, your reply was the same.

"Of course it’s Caleb. Who else spoils me like this constantly?"

He loved that. Loved knowing that when others have noticed the rings on your fingers, they knew exactly who put them there.

But even when he adorned your hands, his own ring was different.

It never sat on his finger. It had its own place, strung securely onto the same chain as his tags, resting against his chest beneath the layers of his uniform.

Same material, same weight.

But the chain never left his body. It was there in the dead of night, cold against his skin. There in the thick of the day, clinking softly against metal. It was there when the world was loud and chaotic, when exhaustion pulled at his bones, grounding him with the quiet weight of something real.

Something that brought him back to you.

And when he returned home?

when he was finally home, the chain came off—but the ring never stayed in some forgotten drawer.

No, it belonged in the same place it always did.

Right where you were—pressed close against his heart.

[nimbus-notes]

something about caleb spoiling you. it’s a habit he’s built since you both were young, and it’s certainly shaped your mannerisms and attitudes as you grew older. like a dove inside a gilded cage.

he’s indulgent with you. you snap and snarl; throw water cups and utensils; shove and push. and despite it all, he only ever accepts it. catches your wrist if your punches grow too violent, but not out of desire to stifle you — only to correct the way you fold your thumb into your fist.

you’ve grown to be quite spoiled at his hands. your first instinct is to look for your gege at any point, knowing he’ll give you answers where you have doubts, knowing he’ll console you when you’re upset, knowing he’ll soothe the ills of any displeasing situation.

when caleb’s own actions shift, take on darker intentions, your mind struggles to keep pace. his hold on gravity weighs your leg down as his hands cup your ankle, slide up your calf, slip under your thigh. his grip on your wrist tightens as his voice, once boyish now leering, croons promises of a garden — one structured like an inescapable maze.

you can’t reconcile this frightening visage with the memory of your indulgent gege. his hands are too rough; his words too cruel.

you struggle. you’re spoiled; and he’s spoiling you still.

he always will. he’s always been so fond of you, hasn’t he? even when his actions were misguided, leading to your tears in a locked attic, his intentions were always honed in on you.

“you. it’s always you,” he coos, brushing raindrops off your cheeks as he gazes down at you with the fondness born of a lifetime together.

the storm outside fills the room with shadows. the occasional flash of lightning eclipses him. his violet eyes look black, pupils swallowed by the night as he absorbs you so intently. your face, your body, your being. you.

your gege has always spoiled you. it’s made it quite difficult, you realize in hindsight, to find the will to fight him when that title loses its lustre.

[kyrinnina]

Suffocating restraint

[voidcat]

Another thing I’ve been thinking for the past days is my weird ring finger injury/pathology and how caleb would react to it. // This is the most normal caleb thing I’ve written j fear

notes: Caleb (Love and Deepspace)/reader. Mention of red string of fate / soulmates concept. Undetailed injury in the ring finger, biting. Purely self indulgent lol

Face crunched up in concern and worry, Caleb immediately thinks of doctors he can make an appointment with for you. Best in all of the area- as you deserve

You say with a wince in your voice, that it can be triggered sometimes, the pain and shakes through your finger spreading to your entire arm and body. How even holding a thick notebook by the edge did it once, how even now, if you press your finger against this certain spot, it’ll happen again.

Careful eyes observe your every move, watching each word leave your mouth, the fear in your voice, so sick of the pain and being so helpless against it- aside from direct physical triggers, you haven’t found anything else

His hand reach out to yours then, intervening his fingers to yours like he always does, palm stroking yours and pulling back, lithe teasing touches. You watch in anticipation his every move, holding your breath. And slowly, he pulls your hand up and closer to himself, close enough that you feel his breath prickling your skin.

Moving his fingers upwards, he causes yours to do so too, then widens the gap between his fingers, opening your hand wide and slowly tilting back. Fingers turning and gathering, all but your ring finger standing high in the air does he bring your hand even closer, maneuvering your hands again.

Amethyst eyes focused on your face completely, he parts his lips, bringing your finger to his mouth, slowly biting into your skin, his teeth on the exact spot.

Captivated by his gaze, you’re unable to react, or think anything else, the state of your finger and your worries all flown out by now, you don’t remember how you found yourself in this position in the first place.

“See?” Caleb pulls your finger out and breaks the silence then, “all you need to do is to be with me.” He says like it’s nothing, but behind his eyes you can see something lying behind his words.

Mind still jumbled and all over the place, you recall old tales you’d listen to as kids then. Of bonds and legends, and of two souls separated, seeking each other, only connected by a red string by their ring finger, guiding them to each other.

Your gaze halts for a moment and you see red from the corner of your eye. Yet still no pain or any unwanted feeling. As if it’s normal again.

“Stay by my side and you’ll never feel any pain again.” Caleb says and you find yourself only nodding in a haze, unaware what you’re agreeing to.

[dearieshima]

determined

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷feat. xavier is determined to get your virginity before leaving philos.

His hands gripped your thighs hard enough to bruise, holding you open for his relentless assault. "Look at how deep I am," he panted, watching as he pistoned in and out of your tightness. "Look how well we fit together."

c.w spoilers to xavier's myth, dubcon, groping, scummy!xavier, coercion/manipulation, cherry popping, handjob, fingering, licking fingers after jizzing on them, jealousy, 4k+ words, halfway proofread

On the night of Xavier’s Gladius ceremony, he returned to the palace with a newly discovered understanding. Amidst the celebration, he pulled his father, the king, aside for a private conversation. He presented an irregular protocore to his father, its life force still pulsating in his hand.

“Shouldn't the protocore warrant a formal inspection?” Xavier asked, voice laced with suspicion.

“The lightblade deemed you worthy,” his father replied dismissively, his fingers absently tracing the protocore.

Xavier pressed, “Is there no need for formalities? Or are you unwilling? A heart was once in this protocore–am I mistaken?”

A flicker of tension tightened the king's jaw as he pocketed the protocore. “...I knew you'd catch on.”

The king immediately caught Xavier off, witnessing the disgust in his son’s eyes. “However, it is a necessary duty of the crown prince. It is also the king's responsibility.”

Xavier's mouth widened, and for a minute he stood there in silence. He then turned sharply, storming out without looking back, ignoring his father’s calls. His decision was already made.

He strode into the crowded hall, hoping to shake off his father’s gaze when he spotted you. His eyes darkened.

You were laughing at a joke some man had made, holding a flute of champagne. The dress you wore barely skimmed your knees, and Xavier noticed the man's eyes were fixed and imaginative, longing to see it up to your stomach.

You were a lamb among a den of wolves. If he left too soon, the pack would descend upon your fresh meat. He couldn't leave Philos without sinking his teeth into you first, marking you as his territory to warn others until his return.

He maneuvered toward you, brushing off congratulatory pats and embraces along the way. At one point, Jeremiah slung an arm around his shoulders, only to be harshly shrugged off, as Xavier’s focus remained locked on you. Jeremiah noticed his gaze and, not wanting to interfere, took a long sip of champagne and slipped away.

When Xavier finally reached you, he wrapped a hand firmly around your arm, his eyes flashing a silent warning to the other man.

“Come with me.”

"Hm? Why?”

Xavier's jaw clenched, his frustration mounting. Did you not notice how the other man had been ogling you?

“I have something I need to show you. It's urgent.”

Without waiting for a response, he guided you out of the ballroom, his hand gripping your arm firmly. He guided you out of the ballroom and steered you through the corridor of the palace, his steps determined and purposeful. His hand remained on your arm, his grip firm and possessive. When you reached his room, he ushered you inside.

You perched on his bed, still holding your champagne, swinging your legs. “So?” you asked, a playful smile on your lips as you twirled the drink in your hands. “What’s so urgent?”

Xavier shut the door with a soft click, then slowly turned to face you, a strange expression on his face. He reached over, took the flute from your hand, and placed it on his dresser. “Don’t drink that.”

You frowned, almost pouting. “Hey!”

He ignored your protest, “he could’ve slipped something into it.”

He strode to the window, pausing. “Besides, I want you clear-headed for what I’m about to show you, that's so urgent.” He pulled open the curtains, revealing a brilliant, star-studded sky. The sight drew you to your feet, and you stepped over, awestruck.

Xavier stood close behind you to make space. His chest brushed against your back as he rested his chin on your head, his warm breath fanning over your hair.

“There’s one more thing I want to show you,” he whispered, voice low in your ear. He pointed upward, guiding your gaze. “See? Just above the dipper—that’s the star of our planet.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you spotted the tiny glimmer in the sky, remembering your talks about eloping there. You’d joked about it, but seeing it now made your heart ache with a longing. “It’s beautiful…”

Xavier chuckled, the low sound making your skin tingle. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer until your body was pressed flush against his.

Your breath caught, your heart thudding wildly. “X-Xavier…”

He held you tighter, his hand splaying across your waist. "You should be more careful," he murmured. "Don't you realize how many men in there were looking at you the same way I was?”

“The way you…?”

“—Like a piece of meat.” He was unaware he was contradicting himself. “You're too naive and innocent, and they were preying on it. If I hadn't taken you away..."

He leaned down, his lips just inches away from yours. He hesitated, as though he might ask permission, a question lingering in his darkening gaze. It died as he closed the distance, his lips capturing yours in a gentle yet assertive kiss. He drew you closer, his tongue exploring with confident ease.

He was desperate; you could feel it in the way his body pressed against yours, in the way he kissed you as if he was starved for you.

You melted into the kiss, your hands lifting to cradle his face.

Encouraged by your response, he gently lowered you back onto the bed, his forehead resting against yours as he followed you down. His body pressed against yours, and you could feel the deep, unspoken yearning in his touch.

“Xavier—” Your protest was cut off as he deepened the kiss, his lips capturing your voice, drowning any resistance as he poured himself into the moment.

You was a bit tipsy, the alcohol lowering your inhibitions, making you pliant beneath his touch. Xavier's lips trailed from your mouth to your neck, leaving a blazing path of desire on your flushed skin. He pushed you down, straddling your hips as he drank in the sight of you splayed out before him.

“X-Xavier…?”

Your clothes were rumpled, your hair tousled, your cheeks stained with a becoming flush. Xavier swallowed hard, his pulse racing as he finally had you right where he wanted you. This was what he'd been fantasizing about, dreaming of, for so long. And now, with you soft and willing beneath him, he couldn't hold back any longer.

His hands roamed your curves, slipping beneath your clothing to caress the silky skin beneath. He needed to feel you, all of you, with no barriers between you both. His fingers found the zipper of your dress and tugged it down but you pushed his chest, knocking him out of his delusion.

He blinked, as if surprised you would do that.

"What's the matter?" He murmured, his voice gruff. His fingers toyed with the hem of your dress, pushing it up, revealing more of your skin.

"X-Xavier..." You repeated, flushed. You scooted further into the bed, away from him until your back pressed against the headboard.

He followed, his hand slowly trailing back up your thigh, sending shivers through your body. "It's okay," he whispered, his voice coaxing. "No one has to know. It can be our little secret." His fingers reached the hem of your dress, slowly inching it up.

“N-No…” you stammered, reaching down to hold your skirt in place. “I… I don’t…”

Xavier’s face fell, his fingers curling into the fabric, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “You don’t want this?” he asked, voice low. “I though…–You were kissing me.”

“You kissed me back, you let me…” he continued, his voice trailing off as he looked away, shoulders slumping. “Why did you let me, just to pull away?”

You bit your lip, feeling a pang of guilt. “I… I didn’t mean to lead you on. I thought… it was just a kiss. Then it got too fast…”

"Too fast? Why was it too fast?" He glanced up, his brows knitted in frustration. "We've known each other for a while. We're alone. Why are you acting so shy all of a sudden?”

"I, I don't know..." I whimpered. "I don't... I don't know... Xavier, I…”

"You don't know, you don't know," he repeated. "You've been teasing me all this time, sending me mixed signals. And now, when I'm finally giving you what you want, you're pushing me away?”

You opened your mouth but closed it again, struggling to find the right words. “Xavier, it’s not… I just… You’re a prince…”

His lips pressed together, eyes dimming, reminded of the title he hated. "I'm a prince, so what?" His voice was soft, almost resigned. "Do you think that means I can't have you? That I don't have any feelings? That I can't desire you like any man would?”

“It’s not that… you're just…” you stammered, cheeks heating. “You’re meant for someone else, Xavier…”

"Someone else? Who are you to decide that? I don't want someone else, I want you. I've always wanted you." His expression softened, though his frustration was clear. He traced circles with his thumb on your foot. "Don't you want me?”

You bit your lip, finally looking up at him. “I… I like you, Xavier. More than… than I probably should.”

“Then why push me away?” he asked, voice thick with disappointment. “If you like me… then let me have you.”

“I… I don’t know, Xavier…”

He sighed. "You don't know again. Why don't you know?”

"Because I'm scared, Xav…”

"You're scared?" he echoed, his eyes softening. "Scared of what? Me?” Perhaps you've heard the rumors of him frightening away any students who showed interest in you; his father who showed an interest in your heart.

"N-No, that's not true," you pouted, fumbling nervously with your fingers. "I... I've never done it... This before... I…”

"So... you're scared because it's your first time?"

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat. “Yes…”

He remained silent for a moment, his fingers lightly caressing your hand. "I didn't know," he whispered, though it was a lie. In truth, he was well aware. It was he who had kept you pure, watching and waiting for the perfect opportunity to claim your innocence for himself. He would never allow another man to take what rightfully belonged to him.

“But Xavier… I’m not sure I’m ready…”

His body tensed again at your refusal. He wanted you, and he was determined to ease your hesitation.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice warm and reassuring. "You like me, I like you. You don’t want anyone else, and neither do I. Wouldn't it feel right to do it with someone who’s been by your side your whole life, someone you love and could trust, instead of a stranger?"

He held your gaze, "those other men... they wouldn't take care of you like I would. They wouldn't be gentle–they wouldn't take their time with you. They'd just use you, Y/N.”

In your silence, Xavier took it as a small victory. Seeing you listening to him, processing his words, gave him hope that he was getting through to you, that you were listening to his reasoning. He pushed forward, continuing in a low, husky tone.

"They wouldn't treasure you like I would. They wouldn't make love to you the way I would. They wouldn't want to... to protect you, and cherish you, like I do.”

He could see the hesitation in your eyes, feel nervousness in your body as his fingers continued their path up your thigh, caressing your skin softly. He leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours, his voice a low plea.

"Please... let me show you what it could be like... with me.”

Xavier's lips slowly melded into yours, breaking the final barrier of your resolve. His tongue brushed softly against your lips, testing, seeking entry as he drew you deeper into the kiss, making it clear he wanted all of you. When your mouth opened, he slipped in without hesitation, claiming the moment entirely. He explored each part of your mouth, tasting and savoring, leaving no doubt of his intent. His body pressed against yours, his weight grounding you, pinning you with a warmth that left you breathless.

His hands roamed your body, caressing your skin. He gripped your hips, pulling you closer to him, as if trying to merge your bodies into one.

He could feel your body trembling beneath his touch, the way your hands clung to his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself. He reveled in your response, the way you whimpered and mewled in his mouth, the way your body reacted to his every touch.

The heat of his mouth seared your skin as he trailed kisses down your neck, each one more intense than the last. Your head lolled back, giving him better access as he nipped and sucked, marking you as his. The sting of his teeth on your sensitive flesh sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

His hands roamed your body with a desperate urgency, as if he couldn't get enough of you. They slid under your shirt, caressing the smooth skin of your stomach before cupping your breasts. You gasped as he rolled your nipples between his fingers.

"G-Gentle…" you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Sorry," he murmured, his voice rough. "I'll make it up to you."

His hands roamed your curves, one cupping your breast through the silky material. With a swift tug, he pulled the dress and your bra down, freeing your breasts from their confines. They spilled out, immediately pebbling without the warmth of your bra.

His eyes darkened with lust as he drank in the sight of you. He wrapped his arms around your lower back, pulling you flush against him as he dipped his head to capture a nipple between his lips. He suckled greedily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

His other hand came up to massage your neglected breast, kneading the soft flesh. He switched between your peaks, lavishing each one with attention until you were writhing against him, desperate for more.

Xavier released your breast with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your nipple. He trailed kisses up your chest, between your breasts, along your collarbone, before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, stroking against yours as he deepened the kiss.

One hand tangled in your hair, angling your head to give him better access. The other slid down your side, over the curve of your hip, before dipping between your thighs. He cupped your mound, his fingers rubbing slow circles over your clothed sex, inciting a hiss from you.

"You're so wet already," he smiled, his voice a low murmur.

He hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs. You lifted your hips to assist him, the cool air infiltrating from the open window hitting your heated skin. “X-Xavier…”

He smiled as he saw how wet you were. He spread your legs apart and ran his hand along your inner thigh, spreading them wider. "So pretty," he whispered, his eyes locked on your glistening pussy. He reached out and rubbed his thumb over your clit, making you jump.

“Relax," he whispered, his voice gentle. His touch became firmer, his thumb slowly rubbing circles over your hot, swollen nub. He watched your face intently, memorizing every gasp, every flush of your cheeks, every dilation of your pupils. "Have you touched yourself before?"

You nodded.

"Show me," he demanded, his voice low. He wanted to see what you liked, what you didn't. He wanted to know everything. He brought his other hand up to play with your breasts, pinching and rolling your peaks as he continued to toy with your core.

You peered up at him incredulously. "Xavier…–!"

"Please," he whispered. "I want to know. I want to know what you like, what feels good. Show me, please." His touch was hentley, coaxing.

Slowly, tentatively, your hand drifted downward, brushing over the soft curls at the apex of your thighs. Xavier's breath hitched as you parted your folds, revealing the glistening pink flesh beneath. "That's it," he encouraged, his gaze locked on your movements.

Your thighs clamped shut around your plunging fingers, but Xavier forcefully pried them apart. "Keep them spread," he instructed.

You let out a desperate whine, groping your breast as you frantically pumped your fingers in and out of your dripping slit.

"Shh," he soothed, his eyes never leaving your hand. "Add another finger. Stretch yourself for me."

"I-I can't..." you protested weakly.

He nodded his head as he slowly pushed one of his alongside yours, stretching you deliciously wide. "Yes you can," he breathed. His digit trailed down to join yours, stroking that spongy sweet spot deep inside. Your pussy clenched and fluttered around the stretch.

"Right there?" he asked, his voice low. He crooked his fingers inside of you, pressing against that spot over and over again. He watched your face contort in pleasure, your mouth falling open as you gasped. "Come for me.”

Your back arched off the bed as ecstasy crashed over you in waves, your inner walls clenching around his fingers as you reached your peak.

His dark eyes were transfixed, watching with rapt attention as his hand worked you through your release, prolonging your pleasure until you collapsed back against the sheets, spent and trembling. Slowly, he withdrew your slick finger from your dripping core and brought them to his lips. His tongue darted out, curling around your fingers as it lapped your essence, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

He leaned down and kissed you hard, his tongue sliding into your mouth so you could taste yourself on him. His hands flung to his pants and began to unfasten his belt with eagerness.

As his pants fell away, your eyes widened at the sight of his impressive manhood standing at full attention. The swollen head glistened with pearlescent drops of precum, the color a striking contrast to the milky smoothness of his skin. Prominent veins ran along the underside, pulsing with his heartbeat. He was magnificent, a work of art sculpted by stars itself.

"Sit up.”

You complied, your movements languid as you propped yourself up on your knees. Your breasts swayed enticingly with the motion, nipples pebbled and begging for attention. His eyes roamed over your body hungrily, drinking in every curve and valley.

He took your hand and guided it to his throbbing member, wrapping your fingers around his impressive girth. "Touch me," he breathed, "like this.” He showed you, moving your hand up and down his length.

As your fingers closed around him, he let out a low groan, his hips thrusting forward slightly. "Just like that," he encouraged.

You swallowed hard, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you. "Is this okay?" You asked softly, his length growing even harder in your grip.

"Squeeze a little tighter," he instructed, his voice strained with pleasure.

Focusing intently, you squeezed just as he asked, marveling at the way his shaft pulsed in your palm. Your eyes were glued to where your hand met his flesh, watching in fascination as you pumped him, his swollen head disappearing and reappearing with each stroke.

He hissed through his teeth, his head falling back. "Just like that," he praised. His hips jerked forward, his body tensing. "Harder," he groaned. He brought your other hand up to play with his balls, showing you how to gently roll and squeeze them.

He gripped your wrist, his breathing growing ragged. "Keep...keep doing that," he hissed. He thrust into your hands, his movements growing jerky. "I'm… I'm going to..." He broke off, his whole body convulsing as he came in your hands.

He threw his head back, tendons straining in his neck as he gulped. Releasing your hand, he gripped his own thighs, fingers digging into the firm flesh.

You gazed at your palm, glistening with his copious release. Mimicking his earlier actions, you brought your hand to your lips, tongue swirling around your fingers to lap up every drop of his thick, salty essence.

His eyes were riveted on your display. With a sigh, he asked you to lay back once more. Seizing your hips, he yanked you towards him, his face flushed and debauched, mouth agape. He reached out and gently spread your thighs, stepping between them, the swollen head of his cock nudged against your slick entrance.

“Condoms…!” You cried out, “Xavier, what about–”

"Shh, don't worry about that now," he said. "I'll pull out, I promise.”

His hungry gaze raked over your quivering form, committing every dip and swell to memory. "Don't look so nervous," he crooned. “I'm right here.”

"Be gentle..." You breathed. “Please.”

He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. You were adorable. "I'll be gentle.”

His fingers delved between your thighs, parting your slick folds to reveal your glistening entrance. He groaned at the sight. "So pretty.”

He then rubbed his thick head against your wetness, coating himself with your fluids. He pressed against your hole, his hips slowly pushing forward. He watched your face, his own contorted in concentration. "Breathe in," he instructed softly.

And before you actually could, he thrusted in.

“A-Ah!”

Tears streamed down your face as he gradually pushed deeper into your tight heat. He paused, allowing you a moment to acclimate to his impressive girth stretching you open. His fingers tenderly caressed your cheek, wiping away the salty drops. "You're doing so well," he praised softly. "Just a little more." With one powerful thrust, he hilted himself fully inside you, breaking through your barrier.

A sharp cry escaped your lips at the sudden sting of pain mixed with overwhelming fullness. Your nails dug into the sheets as you gripped them for dear life. "Wait... ngh... I can't..." you whimpered, trembling beneath him.

Xavier captured your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries. "Shh, you're okay. I'm all the way inside now," he murmured against your lips. He held still, letting you adjust to the intense new sensations as your body stretched to accommodate him. "Open your eyes. Focus on me and you'll forget the pain."

"Hmgh..."

He began to set at a slow, rhythmic pace, his hips gently rocking against yours. He grunted each time he bottomed out inside you. "Look at me," he commanded gruffly. "Open your eyes and look at me." He reached out and gently tilted your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

Your body clenched around him, the initial sting of pain gradually melting away into waves of pleasure. A breathy moan escaped your lips as you felt yourself surrender to the newer sensations.

Xavier's face tightened, and his head fell forward between his shoulders. "God, when you do that…" he hissed through gritted teeth. He continued to pump his hips, his rhythm growing faster. "Wrap your legs around my waist," he instructed hoarsely. "I'm gonna go a little faster."

You complied and wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, pulling him closer. When he mentioned he was going to pick up the pace, you weren't prepared for the relentless pounding that followed.

Bracing himself on his hands, he began to ruthlessly slam into you over and over again. Leaning down, he claimed your mouth in a rough, dominating kiss, muffling your desperate moans. His hips moved like a machine, driving into you with animalistic cruelty.

"G-Gentle...! Mgh–! P-Please!" you whimpered against his lips.

But Xavier was lost in his own pleasure, ignoring your pleas as he continued his merciless assault on your body. "You can handle it," he huffed. Gripping your hips, he adjusted your position, allowing him to plunge even deeper inside you. "You're too tight… I'll be gentle after I'm finished breaking you in."

"X-Xavier…! Xav–Ngh!"

He reached between your legs and grabbed your wrists, pulling them above your head as he continued to ravage you. His face was a mask of intense concentration as he continued to thrust into you, his hips moving like a piston. "You're so loud," he hissed, his voice thick with passion.

"Xavier! Xavier!"

His thrusts slowed to a torturous crawl, allowing you a moment to catch your breath before he hoisted your legs up onto his broad shoulders and folded you nearly in half. The new angle allowed him to plunge even deeper, the thick head of his cock kissing your cervix with each powerful stroke. Your back arched off the bed as your arms wrapped around his neck, nails digging into his sweat-slicked skin. A strangled moan tore from your throat.

His hands gripped your thighs hard enough to bruise, holding you open for his relentless assault. "Look at how deep I am," he panted, watching as he pistoned in and out of your tightness. "Look how well we fit together."

"It's too much… please... please..." You babbled, your voice hitching with every thrust to your cervix. "Xavier... it hurts…!"

"It's supposed to," he grunted. "It feels good, though, right? Just bear it a little more. I'm almost done." He let your legs drop, pushing your knees to your chest as he pounded into you.

Your nails raked down his back, leaving long, ten crimson trails in their wake. Xavier grunted in pain, his face contorting as he thrust into you harder. "Mark me all you want," he huffed. "I'll mark you right back." He buried his face in your neck and bit down hard, sucking on your skin as he continued to thrust into you.

"Ahh! Yes! Fuck!" you cried out, your words dissolving into incoherent babble. "You prom–eh…! you promised…!”

Xavier's eyes were closed, his face buried in your neck as he fucked you without a care in the world. The sound of his hips slapping against yours echoed in the room, mixing with your screams and pleas. "God… fuck, fuck," he chanted to himself, his voice muffled against your skin.

"You're so meannnn," you whimpered, drawing out the word as a sob caught in your throat.

Xavier's eyes flashed, dark and feral, as he lifted his head. "I'm mean?" he growled, voice dripping with mock hurt. His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you flush against him. "You're the one getting off on this, aren't you? I can feel how wet you are." To punctuate his point, he reached between your legs and rubbed your clit roughly, making you gasp and arch into his touch.

He gripped your chin firmly, forcing your gaze to meet his intense stare. "Look at me," he commanded, voice low and dominant. "I want to see those eyes glazed when I make you come undone. When I claim every inch of you as mine.”

Xavier groaned, his thrusts becoming even more brutal. "You're gonna make such a pretty mess."

The words were like a match to gasoline, igniting the inferno raging inside you. With a keening cry, you shattered, your walls clamping down and bursting as ecstasy consumed you.

Xavier's eyes widened as he felt your walls clench around him, your orgasm triggering his own. "Ah! Yes…–yes!" he cried, his hips stuttering. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and came, his hot seed spurting against your cervix.

Xavier let out a low groan, his body trembling as he filled you. His grip on your thighs loosened, his hand caressing the marked skin gently. As he came down from his high, Xavier's pace slowed, his hips rolling forward in shallow thrusts as he milked the last of his release into you.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the world fading away until only the pulsing pleasure remained. With a final shuddering gasp, you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations, your consciousness slipping away.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as you went limp beneath him. He peppered your face with gentle kisses, his touch at odds with the rough way he'd just taken you. "Shh, sleep now," he murmured softly, "You did so well.”

As much as he didn’t want to leave, he gently began to slip out of bed, his body trembling, spent. He pulled the blankets up around you, making sure you were wrapped warmly before crossing the room to close the window. Quietly, he turned to his closet, carefully reaching for his lightseeker uniform and slipping it on, moving with a gentle but determined grace.

He searched for his sword, finally spotting the star-tasseled handle hidden under the bed. Just as he reached for it, he felt a soft weight on his head, your hand, draped sleepily over him.

He froze, worried he might've woken you–worried he would have to explain he wasn't abandoning, but saving you–, but then you let out a soft, contented snore, and he couldn’t help but smile. Slowly, he lifted your hand, pressing a tender kiss to the back before leaning down to brush his lips across your forehead, damp with extertion.

“I’ll be back soon,” he whispered, voice barely more than a breath. “I love you.”

[ramonathinks]

THE GOODBOY CODE

slyus is a good boy and wants to prove it to you.

cw: sylus and reader are both switches, (18+, MDNI), handjobs, pussyjob, cum eating, slight blowjob, making out, finger sucking, orgasm denial, use of restraints, spanking (just one moment of it) slight choking, squirting, eventual sex and creampie

ramona note: just a little drabble since it’s been forever but hope you enjoy! it’s terribleeeee ik ik tagging: @sunasbon @kissxcore @sincerelyzee

“How badly do you wanna fuck me, Sylus?” A simple question but you could already see by how flushed his ears and face were just how badly he wanted this.

A surprising sound erupts from his throat — a whine, a whimper or a combination of the two before he finally speaks, “Really bad. Don’t torture me like this kitten.” You could see he was struggling, he said he wouldn’t use his evol to escape the rope that bound his hands together but his eyes held a different story.

You sit on his lap, your core against him and he shutters. “Can I?” Your hands traveled from his shoulders to his chest, spending extra time rubbing up and down, smirking at every heavy breath. Your hand grazes the area, “You’re hard.” His body goes completely still for a second, almost like he’s embarrassed that you pointed out something so obvious. “I can make you feel good, wouldn’t you like that?”

He’s watching you with hooded eyes, swallowing hard. “Be gentle with me.” He finally huffs out.

Your face lights up and within seconds you’re on your knees his pants are completely unzipped; his tanned cock flops out and you just stare. It’s long and heavy, slightly curved and the head is decorated with pearly beads of precum. Your finger rubs at the slit, collecting the cum and popping it in your mouth.

Sylus just stares, his face twitching ever so slightly as you look at him. You moan, taking your finger out and dipping it back to gather more of him. He hisses, his silver eyebrows furrowed and eyes closed. Squeezing your fist around him, you pressed small kisses to the tip, peppering everything above your fist — his cock now covered in your red lipstick. He’s throbbing in your hands as you continue to work him, the lascivious wet sounds of his cock and his needy labored breathing mixed together in the empty room, “Just like that.” His back arches at the same time that his hips jerk up towards your fiery touch. “Ah!” He throws his head back at the sensation of you suckling a bit on the head while you stroke, both of your hands twisting and pumping him sloppily. Your tongue laps at the head more, swirling around the slit and he moans. He’s not quiet anymore, he’s being loud.

The leader of Onychinus is whimpering and moaning while his toes dig into the sheets. He’s gasping, loudly, repeatedly saying how soft your hands are or how pretty you are, anything with a whiny voice and flushed face.

“Kitten, I’m cl—” You know he’s ready to spill all over you, you can feel him throbbing everywhere and from the way the veins on his thick thighs look as if they’re going to burst… makes you stop.

It happens all within a second, you take your mouth off him and your now sticky hands you give small kitten licks to. While Sylus heaves and glares, “Are you trying to punish me?” He asks, his cock twitching in the air — harder than before.

“Say please and I’ll make it up to you.” You purr, kissing his chest with mischievous eyes.

“You’re pushing your luck…” He murmurs, annoyance heavy in his tone. He rolls his eyes and looks deep in thought before he says, “Pleasee…sweetie.” Dragging out the please to truly win you over.

“Now I have to reward you for being a good boy, huh?” A smirk permanently glued on your face. “I got something better for you.”

You sit on him, his cock flush against your lips as you rock your hips back and forth. More of his own precum leaks on to his abdomen, you don’t know when he broke free of his restraints but his fingers dig into your hips while your pussy easily glides up and down, the combined cool slick covering the both of you.

Your clit bumps his head and you both gasp before you start again— dragging your weeping pussy from the base of his cock to head, circling your hips against him. Every bump of your clit against his tip makes you that more wetter and faster to slide back up and down against him. “You’re soaking me…” His crimson eyes sparkling as he looked at where you’re both connected, his hips meeting yours with each roll. With every roll he does, the more moans comes from his lips — sometimes he says simple words of ‘fuck’ but other than that he just lets out wordless moans and shutters as you work him.

“Sylus—‘M so wet, you hear it?” You tease him, reaching down to put his fingers against your clit; the rough pads adding to your please. A strained moan spills from your lips, grateful for the feeling as you continue to hump against him.

“You’re so soft.” He groans out, your wetness drips down on his shaft and he instantly flips you over. “Making me feel good.”

Sylus uses your wetness like a lube, moving even faster to slot himself between the lips of your pretty pussy, sloshing sounds of wetness and skin slapping as he continues. “Mmf!” He leans down to kiss you, licking your lips to get inside –he swallows all your moans with a devilish smile.

Keeping your lips open to nudge at your clit with the head of his cock, your eyes wide at the slight overstimulation. He says something but you’re too immersed in the pleasure to hear him, he slaps his cock on your fluttering hole.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, kitten.” A dopey grin on his face, he looks as if he’s captivated by you. “I let you take control, but now…” he grips the side of your neck just slightly, watching your eyes roll back and your chest heave. “I’m taking it back.”

You whine out his name and sniffle, still not looking his way. But it’s almost like he was always in charge, the atmosphere heavy.

“Don’t you want me right here? Inside?” He chastises, his lips twitching upwards, failing to hide his smirk. His calloused hands trail from your quivering belly to your mound. “I was a good boy, can’t you be a good girl for me?”

But you’re stubborn, a trait he both loves and hates in times like this. He rubs himself against your folds again, “Or should I stop?”

Your eyes glance at him briefly before looking away, “You like being a bad girl, huh?” He licks a stripe up your neck. The warmth of his body leaves in an instant and he turns you over, taking you over his knees. He slaps your backside, once. Then again, harder. You hold back a moan but your hole flutters around nothing which makes Sylus chuckle.

“You like that don’t you?” His hand comes down on your backside again and your fingers fish the sheets in front of you. “Cat got your tongue?” He teases as you wiggle yourself out of his hold.

You scoff but avoid his glances, if you admit you like it… his teasing wouldn’t stop. He watched your face before he changes the subject.

“How about this…” He offers. “I’ll do whatever you want if you tell me like a good girl.” You squeeze your thighs together and he takes notice.

“I want you inside.” You tell him, voice laced with pleasure. Teasing him was torture enough because you were teasing yourself in the process. “I’ll be a good girl.” You promise, sticking your bottom lip out in a deep pout.

He lays you back down and he opens your folds that are sticking together, rubbing himself through them again before your wet insides welcome him.

You squeal and he’s shushing you, carefully moving in deeper. Your eyes tearing up at the relief his cock is bringing you, you’re babbling nonsense words to which Sylus replies with murmurs against your lips, “I know, I know.”

There’s little to no talking after that, just the sounds of him inside of you, the bed frame and both of you whining against each other’s mouths. Sylus pushes his hips deeper inside before pulling halfway out and repeating the action, his eyes focused on your face.

Bending your legs at the knees to get even more inside — to reach that spot he knows he’s close to. He says your name, he groans it with labored breath and you watch his face as best you can. His eyebrows furrowed and eyes closed, his lips parted before he grits his teeth and bites down. “Feels too good inside of you.” His hips snapping harder when you wrap your legs around him.

“M’gonna cum!” A pressure deep in your tummy, your knees close to your earlobes as he keeps going.

“Oh? You’re gonna? Aren’t you forgetting to ask? Let me hear that pretty voice.” He nibbles at your lips, kissing them.

“Sylus, can I? Can I cum? Please…please? Sylus—!” He’s looking directly at where he’s inside of you, froth covers his base and he bounces you off of him. You groan at the deeper sensation, a feeling so unfamiliar erupting inside of you.

You move your hands to cover yourself, “Sy— don’t… don’t look.” Gushes of wetness squirt off of you and you whine, his hand covering yours as he holds them tightly.

“Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed?” He gushes, his cock twitching inside of you as he finally comes inside

“Oh.” He slips out, watching more of his cum leak out of you. “It’s pouring,” he purrs, scooping some up and gently thrusting it back inside.

[dijayeah]

"You don’t trust me, do you? Let me show you how deeply I can care." //

– An argument after a dangerous mission leads to an intense reconciliation.

🔞NSFW CONTENT MDNI🔞 🐦‍⬛word count: 3.3k 🐦‍⬛synopsis: Sylus has had enough of your reckless decisions, but his frustration spirals into something far more heated, be it for the better or the worse. 🐦‍⬛contains: fem!reader x Sylus, rough sex, evol manipulation (energy attraction/detraction), possessive Sylus, biting/marking, praise-(soft) degradation kink, overstimulation, slight angst, masochistic reader, teasing, edging, intense orgasms, breeding kink undertones (but no pregnancy), aftercare, possessive but tender dynamic, the usual. 🐦‍⬛please consider following me for more similar content! 🐦‍⬛read on ao3.

The silence between you was suffocating, punctuated only by the low hum of the sleek car as it glided over the uneven terrain in the middle of nowhere. You were still catching your breath from the mission—the adrenaline crash, the heat of danger still clinging to your skin like a second layer.

Sylus sat rigid in the driver’s seat, one hand gripping the wheel while the other rested on his muscled thigh. His jaw was tight, the sharp line of his profile illuminated by the faint blue glow of the console. You knew he was upset—not at the mission’s success, but at you. For what felt like the hundredth time, his gaze flicked to you, smoldering, questioning, disappointed.

“You could’ve been killed back there,” he finally said, his voice low but cutting. “Do you have a death wish, or were you just trying to piss me off going after that wanderer?”

You bristled, turning to glare at him. “I knew what I was doing, Sylus. I didn’t need you swooping in like I’m some rookie hunter who can’t handle herself.”

“Handle herself?” He snorted, bitter and sharp. “You jumped into an unstable tunnel with no backup and barely made it out with that core. If I hadn’t been there—”

“But you were there,” you snapped, cutting him off, just as pissed off. “You always are. So why the hell are you so mad? You act as if you don't understand the kind of job I do, we do.”

He didn’t answer right away, the tension in the rover thickened like heavy smoke, and it made your throat scratchy. His large hand tightened on the wheel, knuckles pale.

“You don’t trust me,” he said finally, the words quiet but laced with something raw, emotional even. “That’s what it is, isn’t it? You don’t trust me to have your back, so you go and risk everything like it doesn’t matter if you make it out or not.”

“That’s not true,” you protested, though even as you said it, you heard the hesitation in your own voice.

Sylus laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Don’t lie to me, kitten. I see it every time you look at me like you’re waiting for me to let you down. Like I’m one bad call away from screwing everything up for you. Well, I’ve got news: I’ve had your back from day one, even when you didn’t want it. Do you not trust me just because I'm in charge of Onychinus?”

The heat in his words matched the fire sparking in your chest. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see how much you care? That’s the problem, Sylus! You care too much, and one of these days, it’s going to get you killed, be it your fucking organization or whatever this is.”

The car jerked to a stop, tires grinding against the dirt. You lurched forward slightly, the sudden halt making your breath catch. When you looked at him, his crimson eyes were burning, molten with something that made your pulse quicken.

“Maybe I care too much,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “But you don’t get to use that as an excuse to push me away.”

Before you could respond, he leaned over, his big hand curling around your small chin, forcing you to meet his sharp red gaze. The air between you crackled, the thin veil of restraint he’d clung to snapping like a frayed tether.

“You don’t trust me, do you?” His thumb brushed against your jaw, rough and unyielding. “Let me show you how deeply I can care.”

The words hit you like a shockwave, stealing the air from your lungs. His lips crashed against yours, hungry, demanding, as if he were trying to pour every unsaid word, every bottled emotion, into that kiss. Your body reacted instinctively, your hands tangling in his shirt, pulling him closer.

It spiraled from there—his mouth trailing fire down your neck, his hands claiming your body like he was trying to prove a point, to you, to him, it didn't matter.

At some point, he shifted, unbuckling your belt as well as his, pulling you into his lap. The cramped space of the rover was suddenly irrelevant, every thought drowned out by the heat of him, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing anchoring him to this reality.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough against your ear. “Say you trust me.”

You glared at him, defiant even as your body melted under his touch. “You’re such a smug bastard.”

“And you love it,” The silver-haired man shot back, his lips curling into a crooked smirk that was all teeth and arrogance. His hips bucked up sharply, driving a gasp from you as your nails dug into his shoulders. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed, kitten. Every time you glare at me, every time you fight me—you just want me to put you in your place.”

His words made your chest tighten, your breath catching as his hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises. He wasn’t wrong. The way he moved, the way he talked, how he always had to have the last word—it drove you insane. And yet here you were, rolling your hips against his large bulge like you couldn’t get enough of it, of him. God, you needed to fuck this man.

“You’re full of yourself,” you managed to gasp, though the edge in your voice was dulled by the pleasure building with every movement.

The leader of Onychinus chuckled, the sound dark and low as he leaned forward, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Maybe. But you’re the one writhing on top of me, sweetie.”

You wanted to retort, to say something sharp that would wipe the smug look off his face, but the words dissolved into a moan as his hand slid down, pushing your shirt up just enough to expose the curve of your waist. His fingers traced the line of your skin before gripping your hips again, guiding you as you moved on him.

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” he muttered, his crimson eyes half-lidded as he watched you with a mix of hunger and frustration. “Always running off, always pushing me away—but look at you now, going nearly all pliant on me just because of my cock.”

He thrust up into you, sharp and deliberate, and you cried out, your body arching against him. His hands roamed higher, slipping beneath your shirt to splay against your arched back, pulling you closer until your chest was flush against his.

“Say it,” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less commanding. “Say you trust me.”

You bit your lip, defiance flickering in your gaze even as your body betrayed you, moving in perfect rhythm with his. “I—” Your words caught in your throat as his hand slid down, his thumb brushing against the sensitive bundle of nerves between your thighs, through your tight pants.

“Hm, what was that, kitten?” he teased, his smirk widening as he worked you with practiced ease. “Didn’t quite catch it.”

“Fuck, Sylus,” you gasped, your head falling against his shoulder as your nails raked down his muscled arms, through the dark shirt he wore. “I trust you, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yeah,” he rasped, his voice raw with emotion now, the teasing edge giving way to something deeper. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

His lips found yours again, the kiss bruising and desperate, and you felt the tension between you snap like a tightly drawn wire. 

Sylus undressing her, teasing her with the tip of his cock, and stretching her out with his fingers first, all while keeping his sharp, in-character tone.

Sylus’s lips left yours, a string of spit still connecting you as he pulled back, crimson eyes heavy-lidded and gleaming with intent. His hands roamed your body with an almost infuriating slowness, tracing every curve, every soft dip of your skin, like he was memorizing you.

“Shirt first,” he murmured, his voice low, like gravel dragged over silk. His long fingers moved to the fabric clinging to your chest, undoing each button with painstaking precision. “It’s in the way.”

You swallowed hard, heat pooling between your thighs further as he peeled the shirt off your shoulders, his gaze darkening when the fabric fell to your waist. He let his thumb graze over the light lace of your bra, smirking when you shivered.

“Pretty,” he muttered, his tone soft but tinged with something sharper. “Bet you wore this for me, didn’t you, kitten?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could form a single word, his hands slid beneath the fragile straps, tugging the garment down until your tits spilled free. His gaze devoured you, and he let out a low hum of approval before leaning in, his mouth brushing over your collarbone.

“Better,” he murmured, his lips trailing lower. His large hands cupped your breasts, thumbs grazing over your perked-up nipples as he took one into his mouth, sucking softly. The warm, wet drag of his tongue sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your needy core, your nails scraping against his shoulders in response.

“Sylus,” you gasped, your voice breathy and strained as you rocked against him, desperate for more.

“Patience,” he drawled, releasing your nipple with a soft pop. His hands moved to your waistband, unfastening your pants with the same deliberate slowness that made you want to scream. “I’m going to take my time with you. Can’t have you breaking on me too fast.”

He tugged your pants down, dragging the fabric over your thighs with a roughness that sent a shiver through you as you helped him to get rid of them. His hands lingered on the bare skin he revealed, his fingers tracing patterns that made your breath hitch in ways only he was allowed to witness. When he finally stripped you completely, his gaze raked over you with such intensity that it felt like he was laying you bare in more ways than one.

“Fucking perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself, as he shifted beneath you. His own pants were next, the tailored fabric sliding down to reveal thick, muscular thighs and his cock—long, heavy, and already leaking at the pretty tip. You stared, glossed lips agape, and he noticed, his smirk widening as he wrapped a hand around his length.

“I take it you like what you see, hm?” he asked, his tone teasing as he stroked himself slowly, spreading the precum along his length. “Bet you’re already imagining how good it’s going to feel. But not yet.”

Before you could respond, his hand moved to your thigh, spreading you open further on his lap. His fingers trailed up your inner thigh, pausing just before they reached your slick heat over your panties. He let out a low chuckle at the way you squirmed beneath his touch.

“Needy little thing,” he murmured, his tone laced with pure amusement as he pushed your underwear aside. His rough thumb slid through your folds, gathering your arousal and circling your clit with infuriating precision. “Look at you. Pretty fat pussy so wet already. And I haven’t even started.”

You whimpered, your hips jerking against his hand, but he held you down easily with his free arm. He slid one finger inside you, his crimson gaze locked on your face as he curled it just right, making your breath hitch.

“Relax, sweetie,” he muttered, adding a second finger and stretching you with slow, deliberate thrusts. “You can take it. You’re going to have to, if you want this.”

His other hand fell away from your body, wrapping around his cock once more, this time tighter, the tip glistening as he dragged it through your messy folds, mesmerized. The teasing friction made your body ache, your thighs trembling as he tapped the head of his cock against your clit, smearing your sticky glistening arousal over himself.

“See that?” he murmured, his voice dark and low as he watched the way his cock slid against you, slick and obscene. “All of this? That’s mine now. Don’t forget it.”

You moaned, your nails digging into his forearms as he continued to tease you, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance near his fingers before sliding back up to circle your clit again. “Sylus, please—”

“Not until you’re ready,” he cut you off, his fingers thrusting deeper, stretching you until your body softened beneath him. “And when you are, you’ll beg me for it.”

His teasing smirk was still in place as he finally pulled his fingers away then, positioning himself at your entrance. He paused, his crimson gaze locking with yours. “Gonna beg, or no?”

“I want it,” you breathed, your voice trembling but certain. “I want you, Sylus. Please.”

The smirk softened into something deeper, more dangerous, as he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, the stretch making you gasp as he filled you completely. He hissed low in his throat, his head falling forward against yours as he bottomed out.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his breath hot against your lips. “You feel even better than I imagined.”

“You asked for it,” he growled, his voice rough and strained as he thrust into you, the sound of your bodies meeting filling the cramped space of the car. “Begged for it, actually. So take it.”

His hands gripped your hips with bruising intensity, guiding your movements as you writhed on top of him. Each snap of his hips forced you to take him deeper, harder, the stretch and friction igniting every nerve in your body. Your cries filled the vehicle, but the leader of Onychinus wasn’t satisfied—not yet.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his crimson gaze flicking to where you were joined. “Such a pretty little thing, grinding on me. But I can make you feel even better.”

A faint shimmer of red pulsed from his right eye, and you felt it—an invisible pull, like his hands were everywhere at once. Your body jolted as his Evol flared, the sensation of his energy manipulating the space around you adding an electrifying layer to the way he moved inside you. You gasped as you were pulled downward with more force, his cock driving even deeper, hitting spots that made your vision blur.

“Fuck,” you choked out, your hands bracing against his chest, your nails raking over the taut muscle there. “Sylus—what the hell are you—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, a wicked grin spreading across his face. His right eye glowed brighter, the crimson shimmer swirling like molten fire. “Just making it easier for you to bounce on my cock, sweetie. Thought you wanted it rough? Or do you want it soft? Are you trying to be hard to please?”

The pull of his Evol guided your hips, lifting and dropping you in perfect rhythm with his own thrusts. It was relentless, merciless, and utterly intoxicating. Each time you were forced down, his cock filled you completely, the pressure making your head spin. Your walls clenched around him, and his growl deepened, low and feral. The car was filled with obscene squelching sounds as you both listened to them.

“You feel that?” he murmured, his voice laced with dark amusement. “That’s all me, kitten. Every inch of you is mine right now.”

Your thighs trembled as his energy pulsed again, the invisible force amplifying the intensity of every movement. It was overwhelming in the best way, your body arching against his as your cries turned into desperate moans. You clawed at his crumpled black shirt, yanking it open further to expose more of his pale skin.

“God, Sylus,” you gasped, leaning forward to kiss along his neck, your teeth grazing the sharp line of his jaw. “S-so close—”

The crimson shimmer flickered across your body now, the heat of his energy wrapping around you like an extension of him. Every nerve in your body felt alive, hyper-sensitive to his touch, the drag of his cock, the sharp edge of his teeth as he bit down on your shoulder in response.

The bite sent a jolt of pain that melted into goosebumps, your nails digging deeper into his chest as your body instinctively arched into his even more, if that was possible. Sylus growled against your skin, his teeth leaving faint indentations before he soothed the mark with his tongue softly, a possessive gesture that made your breath catch.

“Fuck, I can feel you trembling,” he muttered, his voice thick and gravelly, the faint glow in his eye flaring brighter. His hips snapped up harder, the relentless rhythm of his Evol working with him, pushing you closer to the edge. “You gonna break for me, kitten? Let me feel you fall apart around my cock.”

You whimpered in response, your mind hazy with the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. The heat of his energy, the rough drag of his girthy dick, the way his voice curled around your ears like a command—it was too much and not enough all at once.

“Say it,” The leader of the Onychinus demanded, his hands gripping your plush ass now, the force of his thrusts slamming you down onto him as his Evol guided the motion. The shimmering red energy flickered along your skin where the two of you were connected, a physical manifestation of his control, and the sight of it made your walls flutter around him. “Say who’s fucking you this good.”

“You,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the coil in your core tightened to the point of snapping. “It’s you, Sylus. Only you.”

“Good,” he growled, his grin sharp and dangerous. “And this pretty little pussy? Mine. All mine.”

His words sent you over the edge, your body tightening around him in a vicious grip as your orgasm hit like a tidal wave. Your vision blurred, and you cried out his name, your nails leaving deep scratches on his chest as you rode out the waves of pleasure. Sylus groaned at the way you clenched around him, his thrusts turning erratic as he chased his own release.

“Fuck,” he snarled, his head falling back against the seat as he drove into you one last time, his cock buried to the hilt as he came. His warmth filled you, hot, thick, and overwhelming, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he spilled his cum into you.

For a moment, the world seemed to still, the only sounds the ragged breaths you both struggled to catch. Sylus’s hands softened their hold on you, sliding up to your waist as the crimson shimmer of his Evol faded into nothingness. His other hand brushed the sweat off your brow, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’re a goddamn mess,” he muttered, though his tone was softer now, almost fond. His fingers traced lazy circles against your skin as he leaned back to look at you, his smirk returning as his crimson eyes met yours. “A pretty one, though. I’ll give you that.”

You let out a breathless laugh, leaning forward to press a peck to his jaw. “You’re one to talk,” you murmured, your voice still shaky as you settled against his chest. “Look at you. All smug and yet ruined just as much. I wonder what Luke and Kieran would have to say if they saw their boss like this?”

His smirk widened, his arms wrapping around you to pull you closer. “Ruined, huh?” he repeated, his voice low and teasing. “Sweetie, from what I believe we’re just getting started.”

[boobearymuch]

—♡tags: Caleb/afab!reader, piv, creampie, premature ejaculation —♡wc: 399 —♡a/n: Caleb cums too early that's it enjoy :)

Caleb was done for; the moment you leaned him back, head bouncing onto pillows that smelled irresistibly like you, he knew it was game over. He pictured, dreamt, obsessed—about this moment for years. But not even his best R-rated fantasy came close to the real deal. The salt of your skin, the sticky heat of your body against his. Your hungry gaze sent Caleb reeling, and he frantically assisted your clumsy efforts to peel off his boxers. This was usually the part in his fantasy where he’d quip about your eagerness, regain control of the pace with a calculated stroke of his fingers, and tease you for being so wet for him already. All that flew out the window the moment you grabbed his weeping tip and squeezed. 

“Unh—” The groan rumbled from deep within his chest, and his amethyst eyes panicked when you lifted yourself over him. It was difficult to regain his cool after watching you struggle to take his girth, large hands gripping hips like a vice as you whimpered through the resistance. Fuck—another thrill jolted down his spine when you fluttered around him; he’d only ever heard you make noises like that with an ear pressed to your door and a fist stuffed down his pants. To finally hear you make those lewd sounds for him…Caleb resisted the horrifying urge to thrust into you all at once. Despite his possessive tendencies, he’d rather not hurt you—unless you really wanted him to, of course. But the noise you made when he finally bottomed out? Straight up pornographic. 

Caleb burned with shame when he sensed that familiar, hot coil in his lower belly. “Hah—wait, wait—hngh—” He whined but couldn’t help but jerk his hips anyway, sparks flying behind his eyelids when your hands slapped down onto his chest to keep yourself steady. And fuck, he couldn’t stop cumming. Just thrust after thrust of warmth until it was spilling out of you and onto his own sticky skin. He was so fucking embarrassed, muttering apologies in between wet sounds and nasal moans.

Caleb couldn’t look at you afterward, just pouted and flopped his sweaty hair to the side. But you didn’t let him sulk for long; you pressed yourself to his heaving chest and brushed his bangs aside, “Hi, is this thing on?” You tapped his cheek playfully, but this only made the storm cloud worse.

“...Apparently not.”

masterlist

[seradyn]

Yours To Bare, Mine to Cherish

Dragon!Sylus tries to push you away when old wounds flare up, causing him too much pain to trust you. You refuse to let him, and instead teach him how to ask for help, how to be vulnerable and not fear the lashes that follow. Basically: how to train your dragon to let you comfort him and give good massages.

As a chronic pain haver, I am forced to give all my blorbos chronic pain :) I’ve been working on this for SO LONG 😭 Still not over his myth so please enjoy us pampering our dragon 💕

Word count: 11,021. AO3 Link cause it's long

Important tags: gender neutral reader, no y/n, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, chronic pain!Sylus, cuddling and snuggling, massages, Dragon!Sylus, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, present!Sylus (you’ll see), arguing, Sylus x reader, Sylus x MC, canon compliant, canon-typical violence

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your dragon was in a foul mood.

It’d started when you decided you’d like to restore some of the old weapons Sylus had discarded haphazardly around his home. Swords, axes, spears and daggers laid in broken heaps throughout the cavern, each one a trophy plucked from his would-be assassins turned prey, he’d boasted. Impressive as they may have once been, though, they were now but piles of chipped rubbish, pushed up against the walls and out of the walkways, hardly spared more than a glance. A dragon has no use for such weaponry; their claws are daggers, their teeth swords, so the battlements remained as haughty decorations, a warning to all those who dared enter his domain, lest they meet the same fate.

One particular sword had caught your eye. Dragon’s Scourge, Sylus said the warrior had called it, sniffing derisively at the pretentiousness of such a name and the underwhelming performance of said blade. It had pierced neither scale nor flesh before the sorry sod had been strung up in the stalactites of the cave and left to rot, much like his weapon. Sylus claimed it wasn’t even worthy of straightening his bangs, dismissing the old thing, as he had with the daggers you once turned against him.

Upon further inspection, though, after returning from another successful raid, and bored beyond belief, you found the steel to be of decent quality. Being raised under the army’s instruction taught you how to recognize the mark of a good smith. Taught you to know the quality of the metalwork on your blades, how the weight felt as you gripped it, the feeling of it sliding through the air before hitting its mark. They taught you many things, as they groomed you to be their killing machine, while the lordlings sat getting drunk on their own false grandeur.

You hoped with all the blood you planned to spill with it, its steel would take up a new name, carved from crimson rivulets of the faithful. You were thinking something along the lines of Justitia’s Scourge, or maybe even Human’s Scourge, just to rub salty irony into their wounds. But that would have to wait, you thought as you scrutinized it, until it wasn’t caked in rust from centuries of disuse, and a proper whetstone had been taken to its dull edges.

It took a full day and night of work to restore it, though you now reaped the fruits of your labor, watching with a satisfied smile as you turned the blade to catch stray beams of moonlight through the porous cave ceiling. A vinegar bath overnight had peeled off the old rust, and with the tools Sylus had snagged for you from the armories you’d torched, you were able to scour and polish the sword the following day. By nightfall, the edges were properly sharp again, a few experimental swings showed it was ready for battle once more. A bolt of excitement ricocheted down your spine, tingling to your fingertips as you thought of showing the rebirthed blade to Sylus, of cleaving pious flesh from bone to earn it its new name.

It had been at least three days since you had seen your dragon, however. He left you to your devices when you began work on your little pet project, when you’d shooed him out of your chambers to prepare a ‘surprise’. He seemed less than thrilled with the idea, if the downward curl of his lips was any tell, but he’d nevertheless entertained your whims and left you be. You were grateful to have his eyes off you for a day or two, but now that you’d finished, his absence reverberated through the yawning emptiness in your chest, where his claws had carved a dragon shaped hole. Normally, he often lingered nearby, watching curiously as you tried to climb out of his cave, or polished his coins out of sheer boredom, or even while you ate your meals, made of sparse rations stolen from soldier barracks. You hated it, at first, until you realized he didn’t do so out of malice. He was but a shepherd, watching with intrigue as his sheep tried to jump the fence of its enclosure, wondering if it would ever have the strength to clear it, or if it was doomed to an early trip to the slaughterhouse, ushered there on broken legs.

But now you’d seen neither sight nor heard sound of him, and you couldn’t help but miss him. If he wasn’t nearby, you could usually still hear him deeper in the cave, the clinking of coins as he moved about, or the faint rustling of his scales gliding across stone. The gust of wind from a flap of his impressive wings as he took off. The sword was complete the previous evening, and yet the cavern remained noticeably silent. As if the mountain held its breath, anxiously waiting for his return. The mark he left on your neck throbbed, pulsed, beckoning you to him as the fisherman’s lure calls the guppies from the safety of the school.

This wasn’t like him.

Leaving the blade in your chambers; it wouldn’t do to approach an agitated dragon with such a thing; you began to make your way through the winding tunnels, deeper into the darkness. His own quarters, the ones you’d once slunk into with thoughts of dragon eyes and dripping red, were in the heart of the mountain, where the sun didn’t dare reach, and veins of buried magma spread like spiderwebs underfoot, keeping it pleasantly warm. Sylus made it clear his distaste for sunlight, and dragons ran naturally hot; all you need do was follow as the darkness stretched deeper into the earth, down the spiral staircase in the heart of his nest, as the air grew warm and charged.

You descended the last crude steps, carved by his own claws, landing with a thud in his chamber. His overflowing coffers, now teeming with the prizes from your exploits, glittered in the dull orange glow of the candles, a kaleidoscope of technicolor treasures. You felt a wave of satisfaction as you gazed upon your additions to his hoard, proof of your enacted vengeance in every pillaged gem. But less so the jewels, you were pleased with the tapestries, the blankets and pillows now strewn about his cave, after you’d bemoaned the harshness of the stone against your skin. You had no scales to protect you, after all. Sylus thought you odd for requesting things so mundane, but he acquiesced, if only to sate your growing desires.

And there you found him, sat amongst a pile of pillows on his ‘perch’, as you’d lovingly called it, a dark shape against the speckled constellations of his gold. The raised stone dais, where he often lazed about when not with you, had not escaped your demands to make his home more accommodating for a human. A puffy white blanket now laid over the old rock, stolen straight from an Oracle’s bedchamber. You’d tucked ivory pillows with gold tinsel into the corners, to rest his head or back against, you’d reasoned, but Sylus only scoffed. He made no move to stop you though, and you weren’t blind to how he snuggled into the cushions when he thought you weren’t looking, his tail flicking and eyes closed like a contented, oversized cat.

You came up short, however, when you fully took in the state of your dragon. Sitting up, his back turned to you, he was curled in on himself, a taloned hand gripping his tensed shoulders, his tail draped over the edge, twitching restlessly. He hung his head, hiding his face from view, his body heaving with faint pants that echoed in the tight space. Next to him, the once pristine and well kept bedding had been shredded, huge gashes running across the delicate fabric, a plume of feathery down decorating his bed and the cave floors where the stuffing had been ripped out.

The mark on your neck flared to life at seeing him, and you instinctively clasped a hand over it. You could feel the outline of his bite under your fingers, his reminder of your deal, a stamp and signature on your contract. You let out a stuttered breath as the ache spread underneath your skin, consuming, tearing, flaying your flesh open with phantom fire. It burned.

You’d never seen Sylus like this before, never felt the mark throb quite as sharply. It tended to hurt, when his draconic instincts expressed themselves, when you felt him crave mortal souls, but that was a feeling you’d grown familiar with. You knew it, felt it, and discarded it, the mark and his desire tampered down as quickly as it had roared to life. You’d grown accustomed to the feeling, the ache deep in your chest that cried devour, devour, consume, it’s yours, even as it filled you with a sense of wrongness. Sylus never acknowledged it, never hinted that his desire grew in twine with yours, even as you felt the reflection of it in yourself. He swallowed it down, and with it, the mark would go dormant again, like nothing had happened, his stoic expression no less tamed than before.

The pain it radiated now was so different. You felt it travel along the highways of your nerves, burning and burning and burning its way down your spine, through your limbs, all the way to your toes, where it felt like your meat was being pulled from your bones, ripped and sliced and stabbed. You shuddered, a harsh exhale pushed from your lungs as you suppressed the urge to scream, to rip into your own flesh to find the source of your pain, and carve it out. You’d felt a distant ache from the mark as you traveled deeper into the mountain, but standing in front of Sylus, it was nearly unbearable.

Was Sylus…Could he feel it too?

Carefully, on gentle padded steps, you approached him. You made no attempt to hide the sound of your footfalls, you were sure he already knew you were there, if your previous meetings were any indication. However, he was surely irritated, the jerky movements of his tail confirmed as much, and you had no desire to exacerbate it by startling him. You’d been on the receiving end of it before, when you teased him too much too often, or when you demanded he bring you something particularly ridiculous, like the fuzzy mountain cat that now roamed his domain with you. You’d not seen it in a while either though, it could likely sense the ire of its master, and decided it was better to simply stay out of sight, lest it become collateral.

“Sylus?” you broached softly, as you neared his place on the dais. Even the quiet whisper of his name felt too loud in that space, where the tension grew thick, made the air scrape across your suddenly dry throat.

His reply was a deep, rumbling growl, coursing its way out of the depths of his chest and echoing on the cave walls. You stopped in your tracks, eyes going wide as the sound made the fine hairs on your arms stand on end.

“Leave me be,” he spoke, and it sounded nothing like the smooth velvet of his voice, tinged with tender fondness and amusement that you’d grown to adore over the long months. No, this was the voice of a dragon - one filled with seething flames to scorch the earth, make his bed of ash and rubble. A fury so potent, the heavens trembled in its presence.

This wasn’t like him at all. 

“Sylus, what is wrong?” You asked, your worry spreading like mold throughout your body, choking you, covering up the pain from his mark, even as it swelled, surged, pushed into your fingertips.

“I am in no mood for your games. Leave.” He hissed. Actually hissed. His tail lashed, gouging out shallow grooves in the rock below his perch, the pointed barb extending and retracting. Poised and ready, like a scorpion’s, right before the kill.

In all the time you’d known him, all the months of shared hardships, he had never spoken to you like that.

Not even when you both dreamed of tearing the other apart.

“What is going on with you?” You breathed, not bothering to hide the worry in your voice, your heart. 

“It is no concern of yours,” he threw over his shoulder, and it struck like a sword in your chest.

How could he say that, after spending months with you, helping you, fighting alongside you against a world that abhorred you and him?

How could he say that, as the only person who stood by you now? And you, the only one left who stood by him?

“Of course it’s my concern,” you said, and you wondered if he could hear the hurt in your voice. “Sylus, what is-”

“Have you lost your hearing?” He snarled, cutting you off as his voice grew louder. “I thought I made myself clear. Leave. Now.”

You stared at him, stunned, as Sylus seethed vitriol at the tender place inside you, where you’d planted the seeds of affection, adoration, where they timidly poked their tender leaves out. As you felt them wither, their crumbling stalks easily pulled out, shredded in apathetic claws.

Had you made him angry, somehow? Crossed a line he forgot to draw in the sand, and now he wanted nothing to do with you? Your heart kicked, lurching at the thought. Had your dragon finally grown tired of you?

But, as you looked at him, tensed up and refusing to look at you, your intuition cracked like a whip, and you realized what he was actually doing. Your skin rippled, and you felt a steady stream of anger pump into your veins, to match his own, where once was only worry. You’d worked so hard, tending that garden, to grow something other than bloodlust and hatred inside of you. But now they came back, like weeds you could never fully eradicate, twisting around your fragile heart.

Did Sylus truly think he could scare you away so easily? Intimidate you into abandoning him, so effortlessly? Did he forget that you were not the same helpless little thing he rescued from the Abyss? He said it himself; you’d grown your own horns, when you vowed vengeance on those who damned you, and vowed your soul to him in tandem. You weren’t just going to let him destroy whatever it was you two had built together. You hated the thought so much, it filled your mouth with the acrid taste of bile.

“Sylus, I’m not going anywhere.” You said firmly, planting your feet. If he wanted you to leave, he’d have to throw you out. The gnawing worry and anger, coupled with the pain still writhing under your skin, made the thought so unpalatable you wanted to peel yourself open, let him consume your soul if only to let him feel the tender emotions that enveloped you whenever you thought of him, when you looked at him.

“Then you are a fool,” he sneered, and you felt your hopes being snuffed out. “Begone.”

“Sylus, let me help-”

“I need no help.” He spat, the final word tasting foul on his tongue. His tail flexed, muscles rippling as he drove it into the ground, a clean puncture straight through the stone, pebbles scattering across the floor.

You breathed through your nose, trying very hard to stop yourself from saying ‘yes, you do’, bluntly to his face, or it may anger him more than your continued presence already was. You knew when to hold your tongue, despite what he may think.

“Please, can you just tell me what’s wrong?” You begged, hating how desperate you sounded. It reminded you too much of when you first met, when he held your life so easily in his hands. But, strangely, you found you hated his current state even more, could stomach begging like a peasant if it meant you could get through to him.

“Do you truly wish to test my benevolence again, sorceress?” He ignored your question, saying the nickname he normally spoke with such fond amusement, filled with contempt and repulsion. Spoke it the way the Judicators did, as they condemned you, sentenced you to die. As they took you away from everything you knew and loved, and made you watch as they reduced your world to rubble, made you watch as the only people you ever knew chanted for your execution, rejoiced at your damnation.

The extent of this transgression, this intentional cruelty made your skin grow hot, your brows drawing down as nothing but rage bubbled up and shot out of your heart like lava, a volcano erupting and eating away at the worry there. How dare he? How dare he speak to you like that, after all you had been through together? After you blocked blows, fought off the wrath of the holy army that aimed for his vulnerable flank while you raided their temples, their armories, their barracks. You’d taken hits for him, gladly, if it meant sparing him pain, even if it meant feeling the wounds twice; once for when your blood spilled, and again when Sylus admonished you for being reckless, for worrying about him, even if he inevitably patched you up, told you to be more careful in that quiet way he did. After you learned to enjoy what slivers of peace you could find together, how he took you to the night markets, bought you anything your hands touched, and tried to fight the smile that curled his lips as you covered him in cheap, counterfeit jewelry, in leather pouches that he would never use, but you liked the designs of, or that set of old red keys that’d been turned into an ornament, simply because it matched his eyes.

Did all of that mean nothing to him, for him to treat you this way? Treat you worse than he did when you were nothing more than a meal to him?

Part of you was so angry and hurt, you wanted to just do as he said. Leave him to his devices, and let him suffer in solitude. Tell him to never ask for your help again, since he clearly didn’t need it. 

You turned, took a step away from him, fighting back the stinging in your eyes. You stopped, your breath catching, as your heart stuttered, like your chest was caving in around it, crushing it. Your vision swam, and you clamped your eyes shut, as you tried to hold onto your anger at him for speaking so cruelly to you. At hurting you in a way you hadn’t been sure you were still capable of hurting. But all you could see were those moments when he showed you the kind of creature he really was. Those moments like when you sang to him on the cliff, and he looked at you with affectionate awe, promised to buy you an organ so you could play it properly for him. The gentle lull of his voice as he carried you away from the tavern in Tarus City, retelling the play to you when you complained you’d have nightmares if he didn’t. How he snuggled with you at night when you had them anyway, because the thought of him mutilating himself was so much worse than whatever you could’ve imagined was the reason for the end to that awful, awful play. How you two poured over maps and star charts, planning your next assault while joking and teasing each other. Smiling, laughing.

Your heart screamed, as the dragon shaped hole he’d carved hemorrhaged, filled your chest with so much blood, you felt like choking.

As much as you wanted to be enraged at him, force him to suffer for hurting you so thoroughly…you couldn’t leave him. Couldn’t bear to walk away, even if it meant your own destruction. The prospect hurt so much more than the words he used like daggers.

You straightened, hardening your resolve, tucking your anger away for later. You turned back, marched over to the dais. If Sylus refused to see reason, then you would make him understand his own foolishness.

“This has nothing to do with your benevolence, or lack thereof,” you snapped, proud of yourself when your voice came out even, unaffected by the anger and revitalized concern that now mixed into a potent concoction inside you. “It has everything to do with you being too afraid to admit you need help!”

What you thought before was a snarl was nothing compared to the throaty, guttural angry and inhuman sound that burst from his throat at that, echoing around the both of you like the detonating of a bomb. He twisted violently, pinning you with his eyes, the ill omen of those ominous pools of ruby rose. They crackled like a storm, his nose crinkled and lip curled in utter contempt at your accusation. His next words came out as a barely contained roar.

“I am a dragon-”

“Indeed,” you cut him off, raising your voice to match him, unflinching in the face of his utter childishness. “In which case you can surely stomach telling me why you’re so upset.”

He paused, eyes widening for a fraction of a second, almost imperceptibly, before he quickly wiped the expression off with a scowl, turning away from you as his tail continued to flick. You stared at the back of his head, crossing your arms, daring him to try to deny it again. You always did like a challenge, he knew this about you. You weren’t going to leave, if for no other reason than the fact that only he could soothe the burning of the mark, douse the fire that tore through you, even as you stood there meeting his anger head on. The truth was, though, that you still cared about him. You weren’t sure if that would ever change, now. Even when he was being insufferable.

Eventually, he let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“…Everything hurts,” he whispered through gritted teeth, curling in on himself further.

Your heart dropped at that, the confirmation that the fire in your muscles was also in his, the untouchability of him in your mind shattering.

Sylus always seemed so invincible; he shrugged off the blows from the army as if they were nothing, he stopped arrows with a flick of his wrist, rended battalions with a swipe of his tail. A grimace and a stare, his right eye roaring to life sending whole squadrons into madness, howling as they tore each other apart. You’d yet to see anything perforate his impenetrable scales, save for the greatsword nestled somewhere deep in your chest. Even then, when you first found him in the depths of the abyss, looking up at the sheer size of his true form, all rippling scales, muscle, and teeth, he had seemed more annoyed than anguished, while he sat ran through with the sword, with his massive scarlet wings cocooned in chains. He watched you as the lion does the mouse, waiting for the inevitable, for you to wrap your hands around the hilt, for the blade to slide smoothly out from where it was implanted in his chest, to set him free from the prison of your ancestor’s making.

He seemed so…almost boyish now, in the near fetal position, tail flicking, flicking. And what a strange sight it was. Something filled you at it, boiling and prickly thorned, wrapping around your heart and squeezing, pulsing along with the mark on your neck. It took a moment to recognize it as offense. Offense at seeing your untouchable, mighty dragon, who scoffed at attempts for his slaughter, who laughed as you tried to procure his eye, now besought by something intangible, something which you could not name, that you could not know. Something that your daggers, your swords, all the weapons in the caves could not split away from, could not heal the jagged edges that cut him, and thus cut you.

Through the fire seeping into your veins, though, the only train of thought that remained on course, reverberating through your head was why, why, why is your dragon in pain?

What could be causing your dragon such agony?

You wracked your brain, trying to think if you had missed something, if he had hidden any injuries from your last raid. But the Justitiaurs fell as easily as they always had; tearing each other apart with one look from his glowing red eye. You two were together when you stormed the resident Oracle's chamber, cut his throat with your daggers, and watched his blood paint the ivory tiles a color that matched the gem in Sylus’s chest. Non had presented more than an inconvenience to you both, more like fleas squashed between your fingers. He’d claimed his invulnerability, and proven it just as easily; what could have possibly inflicted such debilitating pain upon him?

Though, you quickly realized it didn’t matter so much the why or how of what Sylus was feeling. What mattered was that he felt it, and you didn’t want him to be feeling it, regardless of the fact his pain was reflected into you.

You gently padded to the dais, watching his twitching tail as you sat on the edge of the coarse stone, brushing aside loose feathers. Here, you caught a glimpse of his face; his nose scrunched, lip slightly curled to reveal pointed fangs, and eyes clamped shut by furrowed brows. Your heart plummeted like a stone thrown in a mirrored lake, lost in darkness’ depths, seeing the pain etched so clearly onto his marble face, disrupting the collected, bored expression he always wore.

“Where does it hurt?” Your voice came out soft, soothing. Gracing the air as a brush of fingers on his skin, a kiss of petals.

“Everywhere,” he huffed, exasperated. He shook his head violently, his claws bearing down on his delicate skin, just shy of breaking the surface and drawing blood. Your fingers flexed, wanting to pull the deadly talons away from his shoulder, away from himself, but you refrained. Patience was key, with a predator so close to snapping.

“Where does it hurt most?” 

A growl reverberated out of his throat, a discontented purr. He peaked open his eyes, though he did not look at you, his gaze remained fixed on the shredded blankets, the frayed threads loosened by his rough scales and talons. You simply waited, for the waves of pain to abate, for him to find his voice again. He let out a heavy exhale, closing his eyes.

“…My tail, my shoulders, and my back.”

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it, gaze flitting to each area as he listed them off. Outwardly, you could see no damage to them, the scales glistened a burned amber shade from the sconces scattered about, his mortal flesh was smooth and unblemished, save for the marks his claws had already begun to leave from gripping his shoulder so tightly. Your curiosity burned with the desire to ask questions - had he been poisoned, perhaps? Was he sick? But again, you reminded yourself that questions could come later. Healing must come first.

“Give me your tail.” You outstretched your hand to him, palm up expectantly.

His eyes opened again, darted to you, the deep, preternatural growl rumbling in his throat. You held his stare, unwavering in his clear attempts to dissuade you.

“This is none of your concern.” He looked away, shaking his head again to try to rid himself of the nagging sensations plaguing him.

You frowned. “I know,” you said, making grabby motions with your hand. “Now stop being stubborn and let me help you.”

His growl transformed back into a hiss as he shot you a glare. When you, again, didn’t back down from his challenge, he let out a disgruntled snort. Spitefully, like a child angry about being caught stealing his mother’s pastries, he turned his back to you, letting his long, lithe tail plop gracelessly onto your lap. You let out a light ‘oof’ as the weight settled across your thighs, effectively pinning you down. It reminded you of when he effortlessly threw the dagger out of your hand and pulled you to him with the lean appendage, like you were weightless, like it required barely a thought. You couldn’t say you were surprised, as you admired it, your hands tentatively brushing along the top and sides, feeling, searching as you thought about how to help him deal with the pain.

You weren’t sure if what you had in mind would work, but you were willing to try, if it meant he had a chance at relief. You were taught some basic medicine in the Sanctuary; as was mandated by the army. Basic first aid, how to treat a wound, what was reasonable to handle on the field and what required a doctor. Nothing too sophisticated.

But most importantly; how to handle basic muscle aches and soreness.

You decided to start at the tip of his tail, the impressive spike and retracting barbs you had enviously stared at more than once. You gently took it in your hands, holding it steady as it attempted to twitch out of your grasp. Sylus let out another angry snort, but held still when you refused to let go. Observing the lithe appendage, you realized the end was forged of bone, and beyond your help, but on the underside, the scales slowly faded into a soft, leathery underbelly. You felt along it, slowly moving up, using your fingers and the heel of your palm to gently push on it until finally, you felt it; a knot of twisted flesh just below the surface.

Being as tender as possible, you held his tail firmly as you began to grind your palm into the center of the knot in tight circles, to loosen and soothe the ache there. It was definitely painful; Sylus growled, his tail jerking to wrest it from your grasp, but you simply tightened your grip, not letting him get away. He slowly relaxed, as you felt his flesh detangle, pushing bigger circles into his scales until it lost its shape, molding into the rest of his powerful, healthy muscles. Sylus let out something like hum, clearly pleased, his body starting to relax under your fingers.

When you were satisfied the knot had been thoroughly worked out, you moved on to the next section of his tail, where the pointed barbs faded into smooth ringlets of scales, rippling from half formed, stubbed spikes. You carefully coiled the finished section around you, not wanting to pull his tail by letting it dangle off the dais, and began running your fingers around the base of his spines. The ones closer to the base of his tail were thinner, sharper, little knives diving out of his scales. In contrast, these ones were wide, dull, and short, as if they hadn’t fully formed yet. You wondered if Sylus was even younger than you first thought, feeling the ache of a body that wasn’t done metamorphosing, hadn’t finished growing all the scales and spikes dragons were known for. You wondered if that was why he ached, why his muscles had tensed into knots.

You gently pushed your fingers into his scales, into the mountains and valleys of the contours of what made his draconic skin. You felt how they dipped, like city streets that snaked through clusters of buildings, made a network of highways where you could see the sky, feel the wind on your face. You felt how they rose again, like shockwaves pulsing away from the origin of an explosion, as you pressed your palm into another knot. Sylus grunted, his tail curling of its own volition, as you soothed his muscles. It was different, from the human skin you’d practiced on, but so similar, too. His scales were warm and rough to the touch, but underneath, his muscles steadily smoothed out, like you’d been taught these massages would do.

When you were done there, you had to scoot closer to him, to massage the last part of his tail. The finished parts curled around you, inviting you closer, keeping you in place. You worked around the magnificent spines that curved toward his back, the deadly weapons smooth to the touch, but unmistakably sharp, as you brushed your hand around them. The scales here were bumpy, like permanent gooseflesh pebbled his scales, though the heat radiating off him proved otherwise. You ran your hands up and down, spreading your fingers, rubbing circles and indistinguishable shapes into the peaks and valleys, the bumps and ridges that made the topography of his reptilian skin. You wrapped one arm under him, cradling him gently, so gently, as you massaged the place under the fin-like protrusions that jutted out from the sides of his tail. A deep rumble broke the stillness, and you smiled, when you realized Sylus was doing the dragon equivalent of a purr. His head lowered, relaxing, as you rubbed the leathery membrane of the frills between your fingers, smoothed over the spiked ridges where it turned back into polished scales.

You leaned back, relishing in satisfaction as his tail curled further around you, without pain, without a grunt or grimace. It quickly faded though, as you looked at him, tilting your head appraisingly. Tracing your eyes over his bejeweled back, how the red streaks flowed from it, slithered around his body and rejoined at the gem in his chest. He said his back and shoulders hurt too, didn’t he?

You weren’t quite done, then.

You angled yourself towards him, his tail still in your lap, holding you in place. You laid your hands on his back, the lower part of his shoulder blades, spreading your fingers across the smooth planes of mortal flesh. They tensed at your touch on instinct, drawing his shoulders together, before they relaxed, surrendered to you, trusted you. His tail flicked once, intrigued, before you started slowly rolling your hands, from his shoulders to his lower back, up and down, like using a rolling pin, kneading out dough with your hands. The rumbling purr grew louder, echoed through the cave, his back beginning to arch slightly to give you better access, his head tilting in bliss. You didn’t bother hiding the smirk that spread across your face. Instead, you had to suppress a shiver as you marveled at the feeling of his skin beneath your hands, so delicate and fragile and beautiful, like what you thought holding a newborn babe would feel like. You moved your hands in, towards the cord of scales that traveled down his spine, untangling the knots you found there too. You rolled your shoulders, the pain that burned and ripped through you settling, easing as you soothed Sylus’s ache.

Once his back was done, you leaned forward, chest nearly flush with it, intent on giving his shoulders proper care next, when you yelped as Sylus fell back into you in a heap, his tail sliding out beneath him. You stared at him in disbelief as he settled in your lap, purring, ever purring, his face completely relaxed as he nuzzled it into your chest. His eyes were closed, and he let out a long, tired sigh, as he made himself comfortable, reclining into you like a chair.

“More,” he mumbled, when your hands didn’t return to him, didn’t continue his massage. Against your will, a bark of laughter erupted from your chest, watching the big, scary dragon melting on top of you. His warmth soaked into you, your skin a greedy sponge, and you let yourself just relish in it, for a moment. The outer caves, where your chambers were, got so cold at night, where the lifeblood of the mountain didn’t flow. He brought you blankets, wrapped you in silk, velvet, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as the heat that surrounded him, an aura of warmth that kept the fire in his heart, his belly burning. You held him in a tighter embrace, as you were reminded of how much you missed him, how you shivered in the plush nest of bedding you made, how unbearably cold it was, absent of his warmth for the past few days.

Sylus wriggled, grunting unhappily when you didn’t immediately comply. You snapped out of your stupor, chuckling, impatient dragon, before putting your hands on his wide, muscular shoulders, beginning to slowly roll them in your palms. His left one was much harder to work on, the scales rising up like jagged peaks, the pointed ends barely kept from your tender flesh. You did your best to work around them, pressing your fingers into the canyons where the scales parted, rolling the heel of your palm where they met his neck. He huffed, rolling his shoulders as the knots came loose, as the soreness he felt dissolved like warm fog, the reflection of it in your own shoulders draining.

When the taut string that held his shoulder blades together finally went lax, your hands traveled downward, beginning to delicately caress his arms, over the backs of his hands, before ascending again. An achingly tender touch that your caregivers at the Sanctuary used to sooth you with when you were a child, the faintest ghosting of fingers across skin, a touch so sickeningly sweet it made you want to weep. Sylus’s breath hitched, as you shared this delicate caress with him. He let out a shuddered sigh, turning his hands and opening them, so you could slide your fingers all the way over his wrists, down to his palms, and travel back again.

You both let the moment stretch, let the silence bloom between you, save for the occasional purr or sigh. You watched him, as you tended to his pain, how his back pushed against you with every breath, how his eyes were closed in sheer euphoria as he rested his cheek on your chest. You stared at him as you felt emotions build in your chest, push on your tender ribs, your heart clenching. Happiness that he was no longer in pain, anguish that he felt it at all. Joy that you were able to comfort him when he needed it most, despair that you both let him suffer for so long, by not seeking the other out.

I will always come to your aid.

You vowed it, to yourself, in the deepest recess of your soul. You promised it, to him, in the darkest echelons of your heart. And as much as you would’ve liked to let the silence last, let this feeling of your heart leaping as a blissful doe across a grassy, sun dappled knoll, with your beloved dragon in your lap, there was only one way to ensure such a promise remained intact.

You kissed his hair to smooth him, the delicate silver strands tickling your lips. “Sylus?”

“Hmm?” His eyes remained closed.

“What caused you such pain?”

His contented half smile vanished, brows furrowing. He opened his beautiful eyes, averted his gaze from you, tail swaying in renewed agitation. You worried for a moment that he may not answer you, or worse, try to part from you again.

“Before I was imprisoned in the Abyss, many sought me out. To claim glory in my slaughter, to be the one who finally killed the fiend. I was accosted by armies, whole battalions.” He paused, weighing his words carefully. “They were…harder to repel, when I was younger.”

You closed your eyes. You closed your eyes, against the sinking feeling in your chest, against the despair that crested, flooded you. You could see it. The mark pulsed, and you stared out of eyes that were not your own. You heard a dragon's roar, a familiar sound, as you watched a writhing, living ocean of gleaming steel bound down the hilltops towards you. Massive, scaled hands stretched away from you, swatting at the bright shapes as they threatened you with their polished swords, their axes, their spears. You screamed, as they dug into your arms, your flank, arrows embedded into your wings, your neck. A flash of red streaked across your vision, a sword made of blood descending on you, aimed at your heart.

You shook your head, the images swirling together in blotches of color, condensing, precipitating back into a picture of a dark, black cave. You felt steel along your limbs, pinching, pulling and locking you in place. You thrashed, snarling and snapping your jaws at the chains as your muscles ignited with pain from the wounds that never got proper care. But the chains did not yield against the thrashing of your head, the beating of your wings, your lashing tail. A sword made of blood, holding you in place.

You opened your eyes. You opened your eyes, and looked down at the tormented creature in your lap, who trusted you enough to show you his soft underbelly (even if it required some coaxing), the tender parts that took the blade so easily. And what a monumental feat that was, for a dragon, you realized. For a being whose very existence depended on being the strongest, on having the will to fight against a world that longed for his head from the first moment he opened his eyes. Vulnerability was weakness, and weakness was death. Cruelty was a shield against the swords, bows, axes of cruelty that were wielded against him first. He’d snapped at you, before, as a wolf does when caught in a snare, baring fangs and snarling even as the kind hunter tries to free him. Tries to restore his freedom, before he could finish gnawing his leg off, because what is a leg compared to the boundless sky, a forest that stretches and stretches into a pinprick of darkness, or an ocean that reaches so far, it touches the horizon with blue gold fingers?

You rested your chin atop his head, his horns framing your face. Your hands kept moving, spreading your fingers, closing them, down the ridged scales on his arms, back again over soft skin.

“I’m sorry,” you said, because it was the only thing that felt right to say.

Sylus huffed, brushing off the heaviness that cloaked you at his admission. “You’ve no reason to be sorry.”

You squeezed him. “And yet I am, for what my kin did to you.”

He hummed, clearly still in disagreement, but letting the matter drop. He adjusted his position, getting more comfortable in your lap, snuggling against you. You watched him fondly while you bore the full brunt of his weight without protest, shielded him from the pain as best you knew.

“Maybe tomorrow we can go down to the market and get you some lotion for the soreness.” You suggested, not stopping your hands from moving across his skin.

He hummed again, thinking on it. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Why?” You tilted your head at him.

Sylus took a deep breath. “…This is enough.” He said, his voice heavy with emotions he was too prideful to share.

“…Okay,” you said, because you trusted him, now, to be honest with you about this. Trusted him not to push you away when pain made him feel weak, made him want to hide in the shadows.

Even with this newfound trust, though, you gently cupped his chin in your hand, turning his face so he’s forced to look at you. So he could not claim ignorance as his blood-red eyes took in the conviction on your face, in your words, spoken with genuine, honest devotion.

“Come to me next time you’re feeling like this.”

He stared at you. You held his gaze, holding him softly, but firmly, not letting him pull away from the words you needed him to hear from you, and what you needed to hear from him. Would grow sick with worry, if you didn’t.

He looked away, staring up at your lovely neck, his teeth marks in your skin. He nodded, once, before meeting your eyes again.

“Very well.”

You let out a tense breath, your shoulder blades easing. You let go of his face, but he was quick to grab your hand. He held it up, turned his face into your wrist, nuzzling it, his lips softer than the purest, freshest wool as they pressed into your skin.

“Only if you promise to hold me, as you have today, when I do.” He pushed your palm into his cheek, his hot breath fanning down your arm as he sighed, his eyes half-lidded and sleepy.

Your heart swelled, felt like it might burst from affection, an adoration that it felt too small to contain. You swallowed around the lump in your throat those thick emotions formed, as he asked you to be his safety, his comfort.

“Always, my dragon.”

Sylus smiled, buried his face in your palm. He placed another gentle kiss on the outside of your wrist, before returning your hand to his cheek.

“How did you know to come to me?” He asked softly.

You paused, tapped his cheek to make sure he was looking at you. Your hand moved, his gaze following it, as you brought it up to press against the imprint of his teeth marks in your neck.

“Because…I felt it, too.”

He stared at you, with those perfect rubies, traveling across your face. His eyes flicked between the mark and your face, before his nose wrinkled slightly, and he turned away from you again.

“That wasn’t my intention, when I gave it to you,” he said, some of his irritation creeping back at his displeasure.

You let out a heavy breath. You suspected as much, weren’t sure he even knew you caught traces of his own desires through it. “I know. It’s okay.”

“No.” His tail swayed unhappily. “You should be angry with me.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You were angry at him, still. Just not for that. “I can handle the pain,” you said, instead of admitting your hidden feelings.

“But you shouldn’t have to.” He looked up at you, his rose colored eyes filled with…remorse?

“I am willing to, if it’s for you.” You leaned forward, brushing your lips over his temple to reassure him.

He scoffed, shaking his head in disdain. “Humans are foolish,” he hissed, though there was no heat in his words.

You grinned down at him. “One of our many charms.”

He snorted, and you felt how his lips quirked up in a smile. He relaxed again, closing his eyes, your reassurances a powerful balm for his soul. His tail stopped swaying, curled around your ankle instead to hold you closer.

“I am still mad at you, though.”

He stilled, his expression falling. He opened his eyes again, caught your gaze, puzzled.

“I care about you. A lot,” you said, hardening your expression, so he knew you were serious. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you speak to me like you just did without any consequences.”

Understanding colored his features. He had the decency to look slightly sheepish, hanging his head.

“I’d be disappointed if you did,” he admitted quietly. He slowly lowered your hand from his face, guiding it to his chest, to the gem embedded over his rapidly beating heart. You brushed your fingers across the smooth surface, traced the edges of each uneven, polished side. He engulfed your hand with his massive claw, closed both of them over his heart. “I will make it up to you. Anything you desire, it’s yours.”

You hummed, considering his offer, letting him open your hand again, lean down to run his nose across your palm. Watched him, as his forked tongue parted his lips, licked a soft stripe across your skin so sweetly, you may have wondered if you imagined it, were your eyes not locked on him. Not an apology, but perhaps the closest a dragon could come to the concept.

You smiled.

“You’re going to have to be an obedient little dragon for a long time to make up for it.”

Sylus stilled, his talons tightening around your open palm. Then he shifted, met your eyes with his, a toothy grin meeting your own.

“I am at your mercy, O great sorceress.”

🐉 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 🐉

Sylus is in a foul mood.

A deal had gone belly up, that he’d been working on for weeks. Weeks of dealing with the sniveling underlings of a business partner he coveted, whom nearly pissed themselves whenever he spoke, of long, boring negotiations that got dragged on for hours beyond what was necessary, of finally drafting and signing a contract for the protocores he needed, only to have a rival business, some small faction he couldn’t even bother to know the name of, made of traitors and vultures alike, had outbid him with an offer too tantalus; the promise of Onychinus on a platter, them as the new reigning monarchs of the N109 Zone.

Their hubris was their own undoing. They hadn’t tried to disguise the bombs they put in his shipment very well, assuming with the contract in place, Sylus was keen to be lax. What they didn’t know is that Sylus is nothing if not thorough, consistent with his business. Every shipment bound for his warehouses is checked, checked, and checked again, to ensure he gets exactly what he is promised, and to ensure situations - precisely like these - are foiled before even having a chance at fruition. The protocore shaped explosives had been caught on the first scans, and Sylus is offended, not at the attempt on his life, but the sloppy execution of the whole ordeal, especially from his own ex-employees.

He’d repaid the offensive slight tenfold. It was customary, after all. Crushed the insurrectionists who coveted the seat of the N109 Zone, their pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. They’d made their bed, and Sylus is more than happy to help them lay in it, under six feet of dirt. And his new supplier, who was so for such a short amount of time, got the same treatment for consorting against him in his own territory. He stormed the building they used as a den in a hail of bullets and red-black evol, looking forward to the mushroom cloud that would erupt in a ball of fire when he blew the place off the map. He’d smirked, thumbing the detonator in his pocket, as his men scoured the building for anything valuable or useful, while his supplier hung suspended in the air by his evol.

It was when his men reported back what they’d found in the building’s basement that he took a special pleasure in the vengeance he planned to enact. The dozens of women, in cages, they’d found, emaciated and barely alive. Whom he’d had to relocate anonymously to a shelter within Linkon, because he refused to leave them buried among the rubble. He remembers the way his face twisted in outrage when his men first delivered the news of what was going on in that wretched place.

This was one business Sylus refused to dip his fingers into. That level of depravity was lower than a swine’s belly, and he refused to stoop so low as to wallow in the mud with people more monstrous than he could ever hope to be. Had he known about his new supplier’s involvement in such things, he never would’ve pursued them in the first place. But he was a weapons dealer, first and foremost, and his particular brand required top quality protocores to meet his, and his buyers, standards. And, supposedly, his newest catch sold some of the best on the market after his last, and longest lasting one, had been caught in a turf war near the outskirts of the N109 Zone, and was erased from existence completely.

Sylus prefers to keep his emotions out of business; it simply made things easier, less messy. But perhaps he was more biased than he let on, because he let that old, familiar bloodlust make his bones feel restless, let the burning fire of rage seep into his veins like molasses as he discovered the kind of pigs that tried to lay with him. As they tarnished his reputation, by even associating with them.

It was no matter, though. That contract was now neatly shredded in his bin, all copies of it eradicated, and that portly man who ran that business, well, he’d made for a fine night’s entertainment. Sylus feels a deep sense of satisfaction at having acted as his comeuppance, tearing down his fragile kingdom brick by brick, ensuring nothing but a crater would be left of it. His lips quirk up in a smile, as he remembers how the man had squealed - as all hogs do - when he peeled his skin off, slowly, and fed it to the wanderers that lurk in the nearby no-hunt zones.

But, as much fun as he’d had smearing another pest in his territory into the dirt, he is now facing the consequences of his actions, dealing with the fallout of indulging in his murderous whims. Without a proper supplier, he is pressed to find another way to fulfill the orders that had piled up over the last couple of weeks. Onychinus always fulfills its orders, Sylus prides his business on that, but now he is scrambling, trying to find a new supplier who won’t sell him fakes within the next 48 hours.

Sylus sighs, staring down at the papers on his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. Swirls the glass of wine that’s gone warm in his hand. His head is beginning to throb.

A light rapping at the door has Sylus lifting his head. His first impulse is to be irritated, as he suspects it’s the twins, and with the drumming behind his temples, he has half a mind to tell them to leave him be. But, perhaps their reconnaissance to find a new source for the protocores he needed was fruitful. He could handle them for the few minutes it would take to be debriefed on the results, he decides.

“Enter,” the smooth baritone of his voice broke the stillness of his office. Sylus leans back, drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair as he waits for them to comply.

The door handle turns, and Sylus sits up, when he sees not the twins, but your beautiful, perfect self, wearing one of the outfits he bought you, dart through his door, quickly closing it behind you.

“Sweetie,” he greets, perking up as you turn, flashing him a sweet, gentle smile as you make your way over to him. Though only an expert could see how the slight widening of his eyes, the faint relaxing of his shoulders belied his adoration for you. You, who made every deal worth slogging through, made every contract a stitch in the fabric of the tapestry of all he would do for you, offer you. You, his most precious treasure, who smiled so sweetly as you approached him, are the only one who can tell his face lit up the moment he saw you.

Your brows furrow slightly as you round his desk. “Everything okay? You look exhausted.” You ask softly. Your voice, a caress of feathers against his rough exterior, made him want to shed the armor that protects the soft, squishy parts of himself. He discards the wine on his desk, opens his arms for you, and you obediently plant yourself shamelessly in his lap, straddling him to bury your face in the crook of his neck, holding him as tightly as he holds you.

He let out another sigh, the stress he feels seeping out of him as he absorbs your warmth, his shoulders slumping. “Unpleasant business,” he answers, kissing the crown of your head, his thumbs rubbing back and forth along your lower back. He feels his heart swell, strain against the warmth that fills it, as you hum in acknowledgement, nestling deeper into him, rubbing your hands up and down his recently tense shoulders. He wonders how you are able to do it, how you are able to tamper the lingering bloodlust towards the sycophants who thought they would consort against him, by simply being there, holding him, existing.

“Do you want a massage?”

Sylus opens his eyes, tightening his grip as he tries to suppress the way his heart leaps at the offer. You do this for him so often, yet his heart is just as excited every time. He thought he would get used to it, that the greedy, yawning maw inside him that wants to swallow you whole would be soothed by your presence. But with every indulgence, every time you run your hands along his skin, he only feels his greed growing bigger and bigger, his desire for you like a cancer that grows and grows without ending.

“I might become a spoiled brat, if you keep offering so often,” he teases, calm, collected. Hiding the way he wants to say yes, please yes into your ear, beg for his desires that squirm and wiggle in the deepest parts of his heart. He would, for you. He’d bend the knee with a smile on his face, if it meant he’d get to feel more of your angelic touch.

You lean back and he lets you, despite his urge to keep you crushed against him. You smile, and he can see that mischievous twinkle in your pretty eyes.

“Who says I don’t want to spoil you?”

Sylus can’t help but laugh, shaking his head. You may make a monster of him yet, with such promises. “I could certainly get used to it.”

You nod happily. “Good,” you say, leaning in to trace your nose up his neck, pepper the underside of his jaw with kisses. He groans, tries to keep himself from devouring you, like he so desires to do. “Come on then,” you speak into his skin. “Let’s go.”

He chuckles, but dutifully stands, lifting you as he does, your legs naturally coiling around his waist. The papers, his problems from the last few days, slide off his shoulders like rain on hydrophobic feathers as he carries you out of his office, down the hall to his bedroom. The door opens, shuts behind him with a soft click and the brush of his evol, the lock sliding into place to ensure you’re not interrupted.

Sylus sits down on the edge of the bed, holding you in his lap as you begin to unbutton his dress shirt. He buries his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder, smelling you, fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your plushness. You kiss the place just above his ear, finishing the last of the buttons and pulling the shirt off him. He takes it, throws it somewhere inconsequential, then shifts you off his lap, looking at you expectantly. You waste no time getting to work, and as soon as you prop up a suitable amount of pillows against the headboard, settle yourself to lean comfortably on them, he crawls after you, letting himself fall on top of you like a giant weighted blanket, wrapping his arms underneath you. You laugh breathlessly, squirming while you complain that you can’t get to the skin oil with him on top of you. Without opening his eyes, his fingers twitch, the sound of a drawer being opened reaching his ears, the small container of oil put in your hands by inky red tendrils.

You scoff playfully at him, before popping the cap and lathering the oil into your hands. Sylus’s nostrils flare, trying to catch as much of the scent as he can. Datura flowers, a splash of vanilla, a hint of lavender. The same scent in the lotion you got for him in Tarus City, when you finally convinced him it would help the muscle soreness, despite his protests. You’d been right, of course.  You usually are, Sylus had learned. Though, he is sure you don’t remember the scent, wouldn’t have reacted so lukewarm towards it if you did. Another attempt at making you remember bound for the bin.

He gives up on dwelling on it though, because he has to swallow a moan as your hands, which are so, so unbelievably soft, start to knead his supple flesh, pushing and pulling on his skin expertly. You trace every inch along the planes of his back, the contours of every muscle, down his spine, the place just below his neck. He can feel as his stress is worked out of every inch of him, your hands leaving no place ignored, forgotten. He shivers, his skin tingling with delight as he holds you closer, tries to absorb the feeling into his bones so he can never be without it. He could live here, he thinks. Would be content if this moment stretched into infinity, and he never had to leave your embrace.

He isn’t sure how long he lets you dote on him. All he knows is that sleep has begun to call for him, he feels so relaxed, so full, completed. That the oil, whose touch was cold at first, is now warmed by his body and your hands, is disappearing into his skin as you and it cradle him. He wants to accept the invitation to unconsciousness, let the world fade into nothing around him, but he knows stress has dug its greedy claws into you, as well. You tried to hide it from him, said you didn’t want to bother him; he already had so much on his plate. When would you learn you are never a bother to him? When would you learn that he would strip Onychinus down to a cadaver, if it meant you are always happy, always pleased, always at his side?

So instead of allowing himself to fall asleep, despite how tempting, he holds you more firmly, before he abruptly rolls, planting you snugly on his chest.

“Sylus!” You protest, and he can’t help but smirk; you’re so cute when you’re annoyed with him. “You could give me a little warning, at least.”

“I could,” he agrees, pinching the fabric of your clothes between his fingers. “But where’s the fun in that?”

You huff, peel yourself off him to scrutinize his form. “You want a chest rub too?” You ask, hands instinctively moving to start anew.

Sylus quickly grabs your hands, gives them a gentle squeeze. “You already pampered me. Now it’s my turn to return the favor.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t,” he concurs again, running his hands up and down your arms. “But I want to. I know you’ve been stressed lately, too.”

Your lips part slightly, eyes going wide. You always thought you hid it so well. “I’m okay, really-”

“Don’t lie to me.” He gives you a pointed look, cupping your face in one big hand, running his thumb below your eye. “I can see the bags under your eyes.”

You stiffen, avert your gaze. Sylus wraps his arms around you, pulls you further into him, so you can bury your face into his neck. He runs the tip of his nose along your own neck, kisses the place his teeth once punctured.

“Let me take care of you.”

You don’t respond, for a long moment, and Sylus worries you may try to deny your fatigue further. But then, you give the smallest nod, and he is relieved.

He doesn’t hesitate; starts working your clothes off as soon as he has your permission. His fingers run across your skin, pulling the fabric up, giving you a chaste kiss when you obediently lift your arms so he can finish removing it. You shiver as the cold air graces your form, and Sylus pulls you more tightly into him, letting you soak up as much of his warmth as you can. His evol stirs when you settle, placing the bottle of oil in his hands. He pours a generous amount onto them, the hands made for you, to love you, made for your pleasure, lathers it into them. He puts them on your shoulder blades, spreading his fingers in an attempt to be as gentle as you, before he begins to slowly roll your doughy flesh. You let out a whimper, then a happy sigh as you melt into him, get lost in the feeling of his hands on you. He allows himself to start humming the tune you taught him, the one he knows you do remember, somewhere deep in your subconscious. Your hands grip his shoulders, clutching him as he watches the oil slide across your body, sooth the deep aches where his hands can’t reach.

It doesn’t take long for your breaths to grow long and even, your body sinking further into him as drowsiness overtakes you. Sylus feels a profound sense of satisfaction that he is able to comfort you so thoroughly as to lull you to sleep, as you just had for him. That you trust him enough to let down all your defenses. He remembers, not so long ago, when you hated him, accused him of being a monster, a title more literal than you remembered. When you thought he was responsible for ripping everything you loved from your desperate fingers.

You’ve both come so far since then.

He lets his lips roam across your scalp, nibbles on the shell of your ear. You stir, shifting to secure yourself more firmly in his lap.

“I love you.” Your voice is gruff with sleep, though the words come out no less assured.

Sylus hums. “I love you,” he echos, nuzzling his face into your soft, downy hair. He presses his lips into your temple one more time before closing his own eyes, settling into the cushions. “Get some rest, my beloved.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had so much fun with this, even though it took around 2 months and like, 20 drafts 😂😭 But I really wanted to show the progression between the past lives both Sylus and us/MC have had and how they are now, while exploring the scars Sylus definitely has from being hunted in his youth. I wanted to show this mirroring effect with past/present and how they’re the same people, but they’ve also changed over time. It was also an excuse to write more nonsexual intimacy, which I couldn’t say no to :)

Btw I hope Sylus wasn’t too mean in this. I HC that he can revert back to such a state when his instincts kick in, because of his cruel lines right before MC stabs him the second time (right before they share souls). It’s like how animals become more aggressive/hide away when they’re sick because they know they’re more valuable during that time. But I hope it wasn’t too much 🙏

I also definitely didn’t cry while rewatching his myth to get names/details right, because the song that plays when he dies plays intermittently throughout the entire myth. You do not perceive me

Disclaimer: I do not consent to my work being translated, published, used without my knowledge, reposted, or used in AI training.

[kykyonthemoon]

Strayed

They told you he was dead.

Yet far away from home, you find him again.

Or is it just a ghost of him?

.

.

.

Kept in Skyhaven like a stray cat and under Caleb's control, you realize he is no longer the kind-hearted boy you grew up with.

You might love him, you might despise him, yet you could never leave him.

ಇ. Caleb x Reader (MC)

ಇ. Tags: R16, suggestive themes, possessive behavior, hurt/comfort, angst with healing ending

ಇ.Word count: 2031w

ಇ. This story is submitted to the Love and Deepspace Version 3.0 Cosmic Encounter Pt. 2 Fan Art Contest under [Homecoming Wings] category.

Your support on my X is always appreciated <3

ಇ. Artwork by Jessie Mai (as requested by me).

ಇ.Masterlist ♡ Request a fic (closed for the time being)

Your eyelids fluttered awake in the dimly lit room, each breath harsh and frail as it left your body. A cold, metal hand tightened around your neck, pressing you against the wall and lifting your feet off the ground.

“Please…”

You struggled. You screamed. But the person standing in front of you only tightened his grip. On that familiar face was an expression completely foreign to you.

“Caleb?… Please… let me go…”

Yet, this was no longer the Caleb you had grown up with.

You awoke in a darkened room. Cold sweat poured down your back and soaked your shirt. Sitting up, your hand instinctively moved to your neck, where a leather chain hung. It was thin, as a typical choker, and didn't bother you much except that you could not remove it. It had been around your neck since a few days earlier, when you snuck into the Farspace Fleet's secret base. Now you ended up here with a familiar stranger.

You stepped out of bed and strolled barefoot out of the room. You could smell the delightful scent of food, and it almost fooled you into thinking you were back in your old house in Bloomshore on a sunny morning, and that nothing had ever changed. Yet, you were a little too far from home.

The mission led you to Skyhaven, where you found the person you believed you had lost. He was standing in the kitchen, a table full of exquisite delicacies all set up. He offered you a chair and said:

“Good morning, pipsqueak. Come have your breakfast.”

You gazed at him. Was he your brother, your childhood friend, or was he someone else today?

With each heavy step, the collar's bell rang quietly. You settled into the chair that had been pulled out for you and said:

“Hello, Caleb.”

Are you still Caleb today?

He smiled at you and began to eat. Noticing that you hadn’t touched any of the food on the table, he asked:

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like these dishes?”

"When can I leave?"

Caleb's smile faded instantly. He didn't look at you as he neatly sliced the bacon. The sound of the knife hitting the plate made you feel uneasy. 

"What did I say about being obedient, pip-squeak?"

Your hands tightened into fists as you stood up abruptly. 

"I don't want breakfast today," you said, pouring all your anger into your words. You turned away, and the bell on your choker rang louder with each step you took. However, just before you reached the kitchen door, your feet felt numb and stuck to the floor, as if they had turned to stone. 

You turned around. Caleb was standing, and with a flick of his finger, your entire body was pulled towards him. 

“You’re not allowed to skip breakfast.”

Caleb seized you from behind without hurting you. His muscular body caught your back. His breath brushed your hair. His fingers gently stroked the leather chain around your neck before dancing all over your skin. Caleb delicately stroked your neck as if you were a little animal, completely harmless in his captivity. It soon came back to you the nightmare from the night before, when his mechanical arm took away your precious life. Of course, during the mission, you had picked up a few things about the new Colonel of the Farspace Fleet and their secret experiments. However, Caleb did not reveal a word, only leaving you in a mist. You did not like that at all. So you quickly pushed him away. 

“Stop it, Caleb! What are you plotting? Why do you keep me here? Didn’t you say I would be safe and we would be together? Why… Why do you keep me here, with this?” You turned to face Caleb, pointing at the collar around your neck. You looked precisely like the cat you had brought home years ago. Caleb had also put a bell around its neck to ensure he could find it no matter where it ran off to.

"It’s for your own safety, pip-squeak," Caleb explained gently. One hand moved up to caress your face, but you backed away as soon as his Evol stopped affecting your legs.

He assumed the collar was to protect the cat, but you regarded it as a shackle, preventing it from experiencing genuine freedom.

Your reaction left an evident pain in his countenance. Caleb bowed his head and smiled slightly. Then he took a step toward you. With each stride he made, you moved further away from him. The ringing stopped as you reached the edge of the table, and there was no way to retreat.

“We will always be together. Just as we promised."

Caleb's cool fingers brushed your face. You used to appreciate the warmth that emanated from his touch. What about now? You were not sure. Was the person standing in front of you an illusion, a ghost? Or had you never known the real Caleb before?

He leaned down.

“You don't trust me anymore, pip-squeak?”

“Don’t call me like that…” You felt as though there was no air left anymore. “They told me you were dead… Then you appeared before me again… You said you weren’t the boy I’d known since childhood… Then you told me that I could trust you still…”

You hesitated for a time. Trembling, your hand reached out and softly stroked his face. The sparkle in his eyes had dimmed, and his grin had grown much sadder. You said:

“I don’t know where to put my trust anymore… What’s happening to you, Caleb? Tell me…”

His eyes fluttered as his face leaned into the warmth of your palm. He rubbed it, a little too greedily, and placed a kiss there. At that very moment, he wanted to confess to her all the sins he had committed.

Would you forgive him if he told you he wasn't the kind-hearted boy you once knew? If he admitted that he had always longed to be this close, to cross the line between the two of you? He had always dreamed of touching you, to bask in your warmth—only yours. He had envisioned a world where it was just the two of you. However, the choices he made drove him further and further away from you. By the time he looked back, it was already too late.

So, what would he choose?

“Caleb?…”

You called his name, again like you always did. That familiar tenderness pierced through all of his defenses. He lifted you up and seated you on the table. The gap between you grew steadily less. His fingers touch your lips, parting them slightly.

I choose you…

Always.

He placed a kiss on your pink lips, one he had rehearsed in his mind thousands of times. Under the crabapple blossoms. By the window filled with the hues of sunset. In the kitchen, where you would clumsily help him prepare meals... Yet, all those dreams together could not rival this moment, when you at last responded by wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Gravity, something that had always been under Caleb's control, was suddenly out of his grasp. He was willing to give it up, if you wanted him to. Leaning into you unconsciously, he clutched you tightly, savoring every drop of the nectar on your tongue with a sense of greed. You both trembled at the wave of emotions that were new yet familiar, as if you had been dreaming the same dream for a long time. Caleb pulled away from you slightly, gently caressing your face that was flushed from the heat between you. A tear ran down your cheek and was hastily wiped away. You leaned back and tugged at his collar, compelling him to brace himself against the table.

Caleb chuckled softly as the bell on your neck jingled. He leaned down to kiss you, his lips continued to send electrifying sensations down your neck and shoulder. After his return, you reprimanded him mercilessly. His hand still bore the mark of your bite. Yet at that moment, you poured all your anger, resentment, and yearning into every touch, every kiss you left on Caleb. You raised his chin, allowing him to stare directly at you before capturing his lips. The bite you just gave him, together with the kiss, did not damage him, but it was enough to make him comprehend the conflicting emotions that were surging in your mind. 

You might love him, you might despise him, yet you could never leave him.

You and I, we’re both strayed too far from home.

The siren blared, flashing red across the entire neighborhood. A tall figure dressed in military uniform was rushing to find his way through the crowd of emergency evacuees.

But when he arrived, the place was deserted.

“Pip-squeak? Where have you run off to?…”

The sole response to his cry was icy silence. That soft bell chime had vanished, far away from this place, beyond his reach.

As Caleb rushed out into the street, it started to rain. His subordinates offered him an umbrella, and he just ignored what they said. He went alone in the mild rain, his gaze constantly searching for the little figure and the sweet bell chimes.

Had you left? Had you left him here all alone? Was that not a good thing though? You would return securely to Linkon, to live your life and forget his existence here. Caleb from your childhood was dead. This would be for the best.

There, on the bench in the vacant area due to evacuation following the Wanderers' surprise attack, he found you again.

“You… You’re still here.”

He spoke. Relieved. He had found you.

You looked up. Your hair was a little damp. Just now, when you heard the sirens and saw the lines of people evacuating, you had found her way out of his apartment. At the time, you assumed he didn't want to hide his key at all; otherwise, how could you have discovered it so easily? Once you got out of the flat, you followed the crowd out of the danger zone. You kept walking. Now that you were free of him, you could take a flight back to Linkon on your own. But what about him?

You never wanted to go home without him.

So you pointed to the leather chain on your neck and said:

“I can’t go yet, because it's still here.”

Caleb took a minute to ensure you were not wounded before squatting down in front of you. He set the umbrella aside, on the ground. The rain was still drizzling.

He grabbed your index finger and moved it up to slide underneath the choker. There was a little scanner that read your fingerprint. A little chime rang out, and the chain slipped off in an instant.

“You don’t look surprised,” Caleb said with a faint smile. “You knew, right?”

You had figured out how to remove it, yet fooled yourself into believing you needed that chain there to bind yourself to this place, to Caleb. And you found contentment in doing so.

As you stroked Caleb's icy face, a warm drop fell onto your palm. It was not rain. It was a tear.

“What’s wrong?”

Caleb gave no answer, only placed a gentle kiss on your finger. Something had happened this morning, prompting him to dash out of the flat with a stern expression. And now he was before you, completely drained and distraught with the possibility of losing you again.

“You're still here, pip-squeak. That’s enough for me.”

Before you could respond, Caleb leaned in and embraced you. He nuzzled into the crook of neck, whispering:

“Let’s go home…”

You knew not a single portion of what Caleb was going through. At times you did not even know if the person in front of you was truly him. Yet you wanted to stay, to embrace him for who he was, no matter the cost.

“Yeah… Let’s go home.”

You and I, we’re both strayed too far from home.

But it doesn't matter any more. My home is where you are.

-The end-

[connorsui]

Hi! Can I ask for a Sylus fluff, where he gives the reader his bank card for her to go shopping, and he expects a bill to be at least $10,000, but all he sees is about $100. So he asks her if she bought everything she wanted, and she says something like "yeah, there were such good discounts, I didn't spend too much, did I?"

And man is just ಠ⁠益⁠ಠ GIRL GO SPEND MY MONEY I WANT TO SPOIL YOU

My beloved @lalaluch I cannot explain to you just how much fun this was to even imagine but let alone even WRITE 🩷 like I was losing my mind trying to bust out my Google docs to even make this. But my sickness was literally getting to me that all I could do was imagine--but anywhoo now that it's finally done I hope you all enjoy it ✨️

p.s: I hope this sickness finally leaves me because it be making me internally cry on the inside ...I pray for prayers lol 💅🏻

BUDGET QUEEN

It had taken weeks of gentle coaxing, half-joking remarks, and the occasional exasperated sigh before you’d reluctantly agreed. You had this stubborn streak, an insistence on independence that both irritated and fascinated him. But today, you’d finally caved.

“You’ll take it,” Sylus had said that morning, slipping the sleek card into your hand, his fingers brushing against your palm. “No arguments. No excuses.”

You had sighed, rolling your eyes. “Fine. But I’m not going crazy with it?!”

He had only smirked, knowing full well you would—and knowing full well that he wanted you to.

And now, hours later, he awaited the results.

Sylus leaned back in his leather chair, his crimson eyes flicking lazily over the documents cluttering his desk. A rare break in his usual chaos had him sipping on his usual drink, savoring the brief quiet. That was until his phone buzzed. He set his glass down and checked the notification, a message from his bank popping up.

He expected it—he wanted it. You had finally caved to his insistence after a literal month of convincing and taken his black card to go shopping. He’d envisioned the inevitable message all morning, something like:

One-hundred million spent at Celine and The Row’s combined?

Or perhaps?

Fifty million at Loro Piana?

You’d mentioned their beauty and elegance more than once.

Nevertheless, the man wanted indulgence, excess—you deserved it, after all.

Instead, the message read:

$157.45 at… Assorted Stores.

Sylus stared at the screen, unblinking. Surely, this was a mistake. He refreshed his balance multiple times. Same amount. He checked for pending transactions. None.

“…What?” he muttered, his irritation simmering beneath the surface. He slammed his phone down, crossing his arms as he waited for you to return.

Minutes later, the front door opened, and you walked in, humming happily, two bags dangling from your arms. You looked utterly content, your warm smile sending a pang through Sylus’s chest. He didn’t want to ruin the moment, but he had questions.

“You’re back,” he said, leaning against the doorframe to his study, watching you set the bags down in the living room. His towering presence cast a shadow over you, his white hair catching the light, giving him an almost otherworldly aura.

“Yup!” you chirped, rifling through the bags. “You wouldn’t believe the deals I found today! It’s like the universe knew I had your card!”

Sylus squinted. “Deals?”

“Yeah! Everything was on sale! I even had coupons for some things. Oh, and this boutique downtown was having a clearance event! It was amazing!” You beamed at him, oblivious to his growing disbelief.

“Clearance? ..…How much did you spend?” he asked, his voice neutral. Too neutral.

“Um…” You frowned, pulling your phone out to check. “About a few hundred, I think? Oh, wait—like one-fifty! I didn’t spend too much, did I?” You tilted your head, as if genuinely concerned.

Sylus stared at you, his expression shifting to one of incredulous disbelief. His red eyes seemed to glow, and his lips pressed into a thin line. It was the look of a man deeply offended. Not by you—but by the principle.

“…That’s it?” he asked, his voice sharp but measured, as if he were trying to comprehend an alien concept. “One-fifty?”

You blinked up at him, a little confused by his tone. “Well, yes… I mean, I didn’t want to waste your money—”

“Waste my—” He cut himself off, running a hand through his snowy hair. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. “Sweetheart,” he said slowly, “do you have any idea why I gave you my card?”

“To… buy some stuff?” you offered, suddenly feeling like you were missing something obvious.

“To spoil you,” he emphasized, stepping closer. “To treat you like the queen you are. To shower you in luxury. And you—” He gestured to the modest shopping bags on the floor, his voice taking on a dramatic edge. “—come back with clearance items?”

Your cheeks flushed. “But… I didn’t need anything expensive! I found good deals, and I thought—”

“No.” Sylus leaned down slightly, bringing himself to eye level with you, his crimson eyes boring into yours. “Listen to me, love. I don’t care about the price tag. I want you to have the best. The fact that you’re this thoughtful is adorable—don’t get me wrong—but next time…” He paused, his voice dropping into a softer, more commanding tone. “…I want to see receipts that would make the average person cry.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” He straightened, towering over you again, his arms crossing. “Do you know how much money I make? How much I’ve set aside specifically to spoil you?”

“I can guess?…”

“Clearly not if you’re spending less than a casual dinner out on everything.” His voice was calm, but laced with unmistakable disapproval.

Then, with a breath, he softened—only slightly. “I just want to see you dressed in diamonds,” he corrected, stepping closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. “To watch you slip into golden heels that make you shine like the goddess you are. To drape you in silk and velvet, to see you standing before me in a dress that costs more than a car and still doesn’t compare to your worth.”

Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the sudden weight in his words.

“I gave you my card,” he continued, voice lower now, intimate, “because I want you to indulge. To spoil yourself the way I ache to spoil you. Because you deserve to walk into a store and not think—just watch and admire”

Your throat went dry.

He lifted his hand, fingers brushing over your wrist before tracing upward, his touch featherlight against your skin. “I want to see you try on jewelry without looking at the price tag,” he murmured. “I want to sit back and watch as a saleswoman fumbles to put a necklace around your throat because her hands are shaking too much from the sheer amount of wealth wrapped around you.”

His gaze dipped lower, lingering on your frame as he exhaled through his nose. “And instead… you bring me deals?”

Your heart pounded, a mix of amusement and something else entirely stirring in your chest. “I didn’t think I needed to spend that much—”

“You don’t need to,” he interrupted, thumb ghosting over your jawline. His voice was softer now, but no less commanding. “But I want you to.”

Your face heated.

“Next time, I’m going with you.”

“What, to make sure I spend enough?” you teased.

“Yes,” he said, dead serious. “And to carry your bags. And to remind you that you can have whatever you want.” His red eyes softened slightly, and he tilted your chin up with two fingers. “All I want is to see you happy. No discounts required.”

You smiled at his sincerity, warmth blooming in your chest. “Okay, fine. Next time, I’ll go a little crazier. Maybe five million?” you joked.

Sylus groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

You laughed, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “You’re so dramatic, you know that?”

“And you’re too frugal for your own good,” he shot back, pulling you into his arms. His voice softened, turning almost playful. “But I guess I’ll just have to teach you how to spend properly.”

“Looking forward to it,” you said, grinning against his chest.

Sylus sighed, resting his chin atop your head. As much as he wanted to spoil you senseless, he couldn’t help but love your thoughtful, practical side. It was part of what made you you—and he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

Still, next time… he was definitely making sure you left the store with at least an entire closet filled with designer bags.

For his sanity—and yours.

[nimbus-notes]

something about zayne and quiet evenings together. its dark out; moonlight washes the room in shades of blue and silver, though it isn’t cold. it couldn’t be, with the warmth of the hearth and your robe as you lay on your stomach, skimming through a book. your robe that’s being slipped down your back — at the slight chill, you glance back, not quite upset, but startled.

you don’t get the opportunity to question him. he’s already dipping his head; soft lips pressing to your shoulder blade.

“zayne?”

he hums. the stars trace his glasses. green, green eyes, warmer than the earth, lusher than the forest, meet your gaze as he delicately sweeps your hair aside.

“aren’t you tired?” you whisper through the dark.

“only as much as expected.” his kisses pan lower, tenderly tracing the curve of your spine. your silken robe pools in the yolk of your lower back, baring you to his embrace. “not more than the night calls for.”

“what does it call for?” you breathe.

“you and I, I think.” he presses closer, cradling you underneath him warmly, as intimate as the moon to its most treasured planet. “shall we indulge in a starry nocturne, my love?”

[kyrinnina]

Would you forgive him? 🤎

[calebsdog]

Correct me if I'm wrong but I don't know if we've seen any evidence of which hand is Caleb's dominant hand. But since most people are right handed I'm assuming Caleb is the same.

WHICH MEANS CALEB WILL ALWAYS REACH FOR YOU WITH HIS METAL ARM!!!

It's pure instinct when he reaches out to brush your stray hair behind your ear. Or maybe to wipe some sauce off of the corner of your lips. To swipe a fallen eyelash out of the dip underneath your eyes.

It startles him every time when he automatically touches you with his metal arm and he just can't feel you. His fingers are there, settled against your beautiful skin. His eyes tell him that. But he can't feel it.

He's a stranger in his own body. You feel so far out of his reach now. What use was this body if he couldn't feel you? It's such a hard habit to break but every accidental touch leaves him nauseous.

[becomesylus]

9:17 pm

caleb x reader

warning: hair pulling, slight body mention, vaguely mentioned pilot!caleb, i used that god forsaken nickname (p*psqueak) only once, slut was mentioned, switch caleb and reader?

a/n: this small piece is totally not based off of a dream i had of him on the day of his release that converted me from a caleb hater to a closeted-now-open caleb fucker... not at all...

minors do not interact. re-read the warnings before reading, as after clicking “keep reading”, i am not responsible for the media you consume.

Having a boyfriend who's always out of town can be both upsetting and exciting.

With Caleb, whenever he visits, you're always left surprised with the way he gives himself away with his gifts. While he gives you the best gifts one could give you, there is no better gift from him other than his presence.

Especially when his lips graze your skin that aches for any sounds that expel out of your lips—and today is no different.

Throwing his coat and hat somewhere in the room, leaving him in his button down—that was half unbuttoned—and formal pants, as you straddle his lap while he's sat with his lips ravaging yours.

Touches desires for fervent actions yet neither of you want to give in that quick, instead there's an unspoken competition on which of you want to succumb to either of your's seduction just yet.

His hands that were once gripping your thighs started to roam around your body, his long digits and palm caresses the beauty of your curves and plumpness of your hips and breasts, before one hand reaches up to your throat while the other travels downwards.

Your hands as well were performing quests while roaming around Caleb's well-built body, with one hand playing with his necklace and gripping it to get him even closer, while the other was playing with the hairs in his neck.

Your tongues danced around each other as strings of salacious sounds resonated around the room. You've been holding yourself well until Caleb reaches past your shirt to play around with your bud, making you gasp and whimper.

He pulls away slightly, making you chase after his lips. You were flabbergasted by his audacity, him playing with your most sensitive spot when you haven't done your attack yet. Almost like he knew, he chuckles at your desperation.

"What's wrong, pipsqueak? I thought you wanted to tease me but I see that I wo—HA!"

His words were cut when you suddenly tugged at his hair back, making him gasp as he widened his eyes at you. His face instantly turned bright red before rolling his eyes back as you began pulling it back further to expose his neck, his adam's apple dropped with each pretty groan and curses expelling his lips.

"You didn't give me a chance..." You cooed, feigning innocence—an oxymoron in this situation—as you looked down at his beautiful throat, "I was just about to give in, but I remembered where your weakness was. You just love getting your hair pulled like a slut?"

Your mouth was letting out the most provocative words as it licked a stripe and nipped around the sensitive spot around the sides of his throat. He moans out of desperation as your teeth sinks in, making sure you mark him.

"Fuck..." Caleb shudders as he grips your hips harshly. Victory was right around the corner as you finally had Caleb wrapped around your finger, his delicious whimpers of desperation causing you to feel wetter than what you initially felt.

You won.... or so you thought.

It was only when you pulled away to witness the art pieces you've created in his neck and collarbone, Caleb pushes you down to the mattress and begins chuckling darkly as you attempt at wriggling yourself out of his grip. Your wrists were wrapped around his large hand while the other began to grip your leg, placing himself in between them.

You felt your stomach beginning to warm up at the sudden maneuver from Caleb, catching you off guard. It was only until he leans down to your ears while his other hand begins to play with the hem of your skirt his fingers begin to play with your clothed folds in languid motions as he whispers menacingly.

"You thought the game's over? how gullible... we're far from over."

[teewritessmth]

How would Love and Deepspace men dress up in Among Us?

Warnings : None

Summary : just my take on how they would customise their characters :))

Xavier | Zayne

Rafayel | Sylus

Caleb | MC