#qin che

[spokenforyou]

sylus x fem reader

PORCELAIN DOLL

synopsis: sylus take your virginity and plans to make it the best you’ve had. warnings: unprotected intercourse, cream pie, vulgarity, swearing, loss of virginity, f receiving wc: 3k

[minors don’t interact. by interacting with this post you are consenting to view something that is not appropriate, despite warnings]

You were his doll, his porcelain doll.

Beautiful and flawless, innocent and delicate. You were Sylus’ doll. However, you were something he never wanted to break, too fragile. Taking your virginity would’ve meant corrupting and breaking you, but god did he want you…

You and Sylus have been together for a few months now, nearly 8, and never have been sexually intimate. You’ve kissed, made out, ground against each other, and all of that, but never had sex. It was something you were afraid of and something he was afraid of. You were a virgin, and he didn’t want to corrupt you, to ruin you.

You were in the kitchen, popping popcorn for a movie, when he came up behind you. Sylus’ arms wrap around you and he leans down to press a kiss on your neck. “You’ve been in here too long, doll.”

You smile and lean against him while popcorn pops in the popcorn machine. “This is taking a while… Maybe like a minute more?” You look up at him and see his red eyes staring into your own eyes.

“Mmm, okay. I’ll wait with you.” Sylus kisses your forehead and rubs your stomach gently, as he always did. The popcorn finishes popping and you open the glass doors; he unwraps from you and grabs a bowl, handing it to you.

“Thank you, baby.” You smile, and he kisses your head once again. Grabbing the scooper, you scoop the popcorn into the bowl, Sylus grabs some butter seasoning and salt for you. He shakes some of it in the bowl and you mix it up.

“We’re a good team doll…” He gives you a soft smile and takes the bowl from you, leading you back to the living room couch. Setting the bowl onto the table, he sits you in his lap and hits play on the movie; his arms immediately wrap back around you as you reach for some popcorn.

You guys were watching a romance movie, your favorite genre. Sylus didn’t mind; he’d do anything you asked, so he sat through every request you had.

A love scene of the couple comes up and you feel his arms tighten around you. “You know, Sy?” you whisper and he looks down at you.

“Yeah, baby?” He whispers back and kisses your neck softly.

“I think I’m ready…” You lean back against his chest and look up at him. His eyes widen and he lifts an eyebrow before looking at the screen.

“For you…” You continue and he nods.

“You sure doll? I don’t want to hurt you or anything baby…” Sylus’ rough hands rub your stomach before he reaches and takes some popcorn.

You laugh as he stuffs his face; “Yes, I’m sure. We’ve gotta do it someday.”

He swallows and chuckles, “Sweetie, you know how bad I want you, but if it’s truly something you don’t want to do… I wouldn’t mind dying without having you. You’re so important to me, and you know I’d put you first.” Sylus’ eyes drag over your face. The beauty of you shining at him like the rays of the sun, something he’d never get tired of.

“Scared I’ll hurt you.” He sighs and nuzzles his face in your neck.

“Sy…” You sigh and place your hand on his that’s resting on your stomach.

He lets out a soft hum as you place your hand on his. His lips continue to pepper your neck with kisses, nibbling and sucking at your skin, marking you as his.

Sylus’ heart was pounding. You were ready to give your first time to him. Understanding: Knowing the moment’s importance, he vowed to make it gentle and perfect for you. He picked you up, holding you easily and cradling you in his muscular arms. He carried you into the bedroom and set you down on the bed, his eyes roaming over your body with a mixture of desire and care.

You feel nervous as he stands near the bed; he senses it and moves on top of you. Hovering over you, Sylus presses gentle kisses to your neck, speaking in a low, soothing voice.

“Relax, doll, just breathe. I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” He whispered against your skin, and you relax a bit. When he saw your body relaxing beneath him, his touch became even gentler.

His lips continued to roam your neck and collarbone, leaving behind a trail of feathery kisses. His warm breath ghosted against your skin as his hands explored your body, slowly undressing you.

With care, he caressed and touched you, his eyes locked on your face, watching for any signs of discomfort. He spoke against the sensitive skin of your neck, his voice a deep, gravelly whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

“So pretty…” Sylus whispered as he pulled your top off. His fingers run along your bra, pulling the straps down.

He lifted your back gently and unclasped your bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. You lay back down and he nods, “Good girl.”

His mouth found its way to one of your exposed breasts, his lips gently sucking and licking the sensitive flesh. He could feel you shudder beneath him, and he whispered in a soothing tone, his voice rough and low.

“Shhh, it’s alright, doll. Just let me make you feel good... Let me pleasure you and take care of your every need. I won’t push you too far, I promise...”

His kisses and licks continued, moving to your other breast while his hands roamed the curves of your waist. You let out quiet moans and arch up towards him. This extra pleasure overwhelms you before he suddenly pulls away.

“Ever touched yourself baby?” He looks down at you with a curious expression and you gulp.

“I uh... I’ve tried.” You whisper, feeling a bit embarrassed at the directness of the question.

Sylus’ heart fluttered as he heard your nervous answer. He chuckled softly, his hand trailing up your stomach and stopping at your chin, tilting it up to look at him. His gaze darkened with desire as he spoke in a husky, low voice.

“You’ve tried, doll?”

Softly, he positioned his knee between your legs, easing them apart slowly; his touch remained gentle and careful. He wanted to take it slow, despite how much his own body was aching to continue. He wanted to hear your answer first.

“Yeah… I was never successful or good at it. It felt weird, Sy.” You whisper, feeling a bit embarrassed at the directness.

Sylus smiles down at you softly, before pressing his knee further and closer to your clothed core. “It’s alright baby… What if I were to help you? Would you let me show you the right way to do it?” He runs a hand down your exposed torso.

You nod and gulp; he nods back before moving his hand down between your legs. Rubbing slow and circular motions over where you need him most.

“Sy…” you whine and close your eyes.

Sylus chuckled softly as soon as he saw your reaction. Your soft whines were like sweet music to his ears, and it only fueled his desire. He continued to rub you, his fingers moving with slow, deliberate motions. He continues to tease you with a smirk on his face.

“That’s right, doll, just make pretty noises for me…let me hear how good it feels…”

Chills course your body at how good his touch feels, a feeling you could never make yourself experience.

Sylus could see the shiver that wracked your body, and he smirked in satisfaction. He knew you were feeling new sensations that you had never experienced before, and he had every intention of showing you how good it could feel to let another person take control.

“Shh, doll...” He increased the pressure and speed of his touch, rubbing you through the fabric of your panties.

“Take them off please Sy…” You beg and he leans down, cutting you off with a kiss, his fingers stilling. His lips taste of vanilla chapstick, the same one you use and you smile against his lips.

“Bought my chapstick hm?” You whisper against his soft lips, and he chuckles as he pulls away.

“Wanted to always taste like you. Now let’s take these off…”

Sylus slowly tugged down your panties, sliding them down your legs and discarding them on the floor, not caring where they landed.

He leaned back to get a good look at your body, his eyes roaming over your bare flesh with a hungry stare. His breath hitched in his chest, and he spoke in a low, primal voice, his hands tracing the curves and edges of your body.*

“Goddamn, you look so goddamn pretty just like this…” He shakes his head as he leans down and kisses your pelvic bone. You wince at the sudden contact, not used to the feeling of anyone’s lips on your body like that.

Sylus smirked as he saw you gasp and wince when his lips connected with your pelvic bone. He knew it was sensitive, and he loved seeing how your body responded to his touch.

“Tsk, doll, so sensitive aren’t you…”

He continued his trail of kisses, moving lower and lower, his mouth leaving behind a trail of wetness on your skin. His tongue licked and teased along your skin, and when he finally reached your core, he paused, his eyes flickering up to look at your flushed face.

“God, you’re so damn perfect…”

He didn’t wait for a response, his mouth immediately connecting with your sensitive bud, his tongue licking and sucking in a slow, sensual rhythm, groaning against you.

Your sounds fill his ears and his eyes roll back while he pleases you. He continued his ministrations, his lips and tongue moving in a steady rhythm. He could hear your soft gasps and whimpers, and he was determined to make you feel even more.

“Mmm, doll…you taste so sweet…like candy.”

Sylus then inserted a finger into you, gently sliding in and out, slowly, his touch still gentle, but it was getting less and less soft as his arousal grew.

You let out a loud moan and arch against him. Sylus couldn’t help but let out a deep, satisfied hum against your core when that moan escaped your lips. It was so damn sweet, and the way you arched your body against him made his own ache and throb.

“That’s it baby…moan for me…” His deep voice vibrates through your body.

Sylus continued his ministrations, his finger sliding in deeper and curling against your sensitive walls, his tongue never ceasing its assault on your clit.

“Sylus, I need you…” you whine and run a hand through his silver hair.

He chuckled in satisfaction; rough and dark against your core. His tongue still moving and circling at a skilled and steady pace, he responded in a low tone.

“Mhm, you need me, doll? Need me to make you feel good? Need me to make you cum?”

He then added another finger, sliding it in and out slowly, stretching you gently, his own body aching to give you more. After a few moments you finally speak up.

“Sy… No, I need you instead.” You whisper, and a soft groan rumbles in his chest as he hears your words.

He knew what you were asking for, and he knew he was no longer in control of his own desires.

“Mm, you want me to fill you up instead, huh?“

Sylus spoke in a low, guttural whisper as he pulled away from your core, his fingers slowly sliding out of you with a soft, wet sound.

He moves up your body and leans down to whisper, his hand spreading your thighs further.

“Say you want me, baby.” Sylus smiles against your neck, knowing you won’t be able to exist.

“I want you Sylus.” You whisper and he practically breaks; he moves away and quickly strips off his clothes. His tan bare body is on display and you gasp as your eyes land on his length.

He knows what your looks is for and he chuckles, “We’ll make it fit baby, trust me.”

He was practically aching for you; not only was he teasing you, but he was teasing himself, he was dripping. All he wanted was to be inside of you, to finally go home.

Sylus lays back down and hovers above you, grinding himself against your core, gathering the slickness.

“I’ll treat you so good… I’ll go slow, okay? If it hurts, squeeze my hand…” He whispers and kisses you gently. You nod and he kisses you once more before positioning himself at your entrance.

Sylus slowly, carefully slid his way inside of you. The stretch you feel causes your eyes to water; he was so big, and it was a tight fit. You can’t help but let out a quiet whine.

“F-fuck, you feel so damn good…” He whispers and fully sheaths himself inside of you, his tip kissing your cervix. You squeeze his hand because of the pain, and he stills immediately.

Sylus grits his teeth, every inch of him screaming to just take you, but he keeps himself in check. He had promised to be gentle, to take it slow, to make your first time good, and he intended to keep his promise.

“S-s-sweetie, are you alright?” He whispers and lets out a groan as you loosen a bit, allowing him to move. He pulls back slowly and pushes back in, your walls fluttering around him, driving him mad.

“Can I?” He leans down and whispers as he kisses your neck.

“Mhm…” You moan and drag your nails up his back, earning a groan from him. He picks up his thrusts, burying himself deep inside you.

Your moans mix with his and fill the room; echoing off the walls, a pleasure you’ve never felt.

His movements were slow and measured. He continued to watch your face, monitoring your expressions, looking for any discomfort.

“You alright, baby?” Sylus spoke in a low, gentle tone, his body still sliding. He catches your nod and smiles before growing his pace.

He could feel you stretching around him, adapting to his size, and it was taking all of his restraint to control himself.

“God, doll, you’re so tight. So perfect. You feel so damn good around me.”

He kept going, increasing the speed and force of his movements, but still being careful to watch your face, to make sure he wasn’t going overboard.

You pull him down to kiss you, and he immediately complies, continuing his pace. His tongue slides into your mouth and dances along your own.

Sylus continued the kiss, his tongue moving against yours, his hands roaming your body, caressing and squeezing. The feeling of being inside you, the taste of your mouth, was all driving him crazy, but he was doing his best to keep himself in check, to keep the pace from becoming too rough.

“Mmm, doll. You taste so damn good. You’re making me crazy. So perfect, so goddamn beautiful.” He mumbles against your lips and you moan quietly.

“Faster…” you whisper and his heart immediately picks up, as well as his thrusts. The words he was waiting to hear. He chuckled at your words, the sound low and almost dangerous.

“Mhm, that’s a good girl. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. You’re doing so well, you’re taking me so damn well...”

He increased the pace again, his movements harder and more powerful now, but still carefully measured, still holding himself back a little.

You notice his hesitation and you chuckle, “Don’t hold back Sy… Make me yours.”

Sylus could feel his restraint snap like a rubber band stretched too far. Hearing you tell him not to hold back did something to him, and he let out a deep, guttural growl.

“You’re going to be the death of me, doll...”

He follows your orders and fucks you harder and deeper. A bulge forms in your stomach and he watches it with a grin, the bed creaking with each thrust.

“Mmm, so pretty…” He presses down on your lower stomach where his cock is and you moan. The pressure of his hand and his thrusts send you overboard.

Sylus groans, before running a hand up and squeezing your breast that’s bouncing with every one of his thrusts.

“Taking me so good, aren’t you? Made for me…” He whispers and continues to fuck you into oblivion.

Sylus could feel it building, the tension building up inside him, the heat pooling in his stomach, and so could you.

“I’m so close, doll. So damn close. You’re doing so well, taking me so good, gonna fill you up...” He mumbles out a string of words and curses as your walls tighten around him.

“Sy…” you whisper and he nods, understanding what you mean.

“I know baby, cum with me.” He leans down and kisses your neck, leaving hickeys so everyone can see what’s his. His hand reaches down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, circling it with the perfect amount of pressure to send you over the edge.

“I…” That is all you get out before your body arches up towards Sylus, finishing on his cock.

He groans and nearly collapses; the squeeze of your walls allows him to finish with you. He lets out low, pretty moans as he fills your womb with his cum, painting your walls white.

He slows his thrusts as his cum slowly comes to a stop, the two of you panting. He slowly lifts himself, remaining seated inside of you, and he kisses your forehead before kissing your lips.

A tender and slow kiss, showing how much he loves you, how much he desires you, and how grateful he is.

“I love you Y/N… Thank you.” Sylus mutters before kissing you once more. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You giggle and shake your head. “No, just a little sore…”

He chuckles lowly and slowly pulls out of you with a wet pop. The mixture of your essence pools down onto the bed, and he smirks.

“You did so good, sweetie…” He runs a finger along your folds, collecting the wetness onto his digit.

“Taste.” He lifts the finger to your lips and you suck it clean, a quiet moan escaping your lips. His softening cock twitches at the sight, but he ignores it and nods.

“Good girl… Now let’s get you cleaned up.” He smiles and gets off the bed, grabbing a tissue and wiping you quickly.

He throws it away before pulling you to your feet to take a bath.

“Come on, baby…” He smiles and leads you to the bathroom to ease your sore muscles. “Maybe we can go for another round.”

[khanger91]

@rhubarbspring

don’t mind me, I’ll just be screaming about this for the next few weeks

[comatosebunny09]

soft kitty, warm kitty [ one ] | sylus

— summary: the one where the adorable stray cat you take in is not all that he appears to be. — cw: silliness, fluff, slight injury and blood mention, shapeshifting, hybrid au, self-indulgent af — now playing: carousel - evgeny grinko

There was this pretty stray kitty you’d been feeding and playing with outside your job for three or so months. 

At first, it wasn’t your biggest fan. It spat, hissed, and swiped at you whenever you got too close—you learned to carry band-aids in your bag from thereon. But it still quietly nibbled on the food you left out when you were at a safe distance. You made a point to refill its bowls each time you came to work. Started leaving a cardboard box with a solar-powered heating pad outside to help it battle the glacial nights that often befell the city. 

Eventually, it grew accustomed to you. With baby steps, it came closer and closer each day, sometimes perching itself on the bench you sat on during your lunch or smoke breaks to keep you company. With time, it allowed you to pet it. Its ivory fur was surprisingly soft beneath the street sludge and grime it accumulated throughout the time you knew it. It also had striking, scarlet eyes you brushed off as a genetic mutation. Plenty of weird animals inhabited the city, so an uncommon eye color wasn’t particularly unsettling. 

The adorable stray only allowed you to touch it, reverting to its initial attitude when your coworkers got too close. It seemed to specifically take a liking to you, bunting its little cranium against your hand and ankles, marking you with its scent, grooming you with its barbed tongue, and purring like the low rumble of a Mustang. 

Finally, you decided to catch it. You noticed a red, crusted ring adorning its tiny ankle. It must’ve been injured. You weren’t sure how long it would survive on the streets before infection set in, and your caring instincts were screaming at you to save it. 

So, you did.

It was surprisingly easy to lure the little guy into a cat carrier with treats. It crawled into the bag effortlessly, almost as if it wanted to be rescued. That afternoon, you took it to the vet. They cleaned its foot, gave you cream and antibiotics to ward off infection, updated its shots—the whole nine yards. 

It had also been revealed to you that your feline friend was a boy. The vet offered to neuter him, but you staved it off, promising to return later. You could barely afford the bill he racked up from his treatment alone.

With a warm smile, you cradled the carrier, holding your new companion in your lap as you rode the subway. The pretty, sedated feline purred nonstop on the commute home. 

It took some time to adjust. Of course, you hadn’t expected his transition to succeed overnight. 

When you gave him his first bath, he wasn’t the happiest camper. He adorned your arms with angry, red streaks to illustrate his discontent. His coat was lustrous and white beneath the grime and fleas. And though he was initially a hissing, snooty ball of fluff following his bath, he purred continuously when he curled up beside you that night in your bed, seemingly grateful to be off the street.

You find with time that old habits die hard.

You bought him a red leather collar to compliment his eyes. With it came a bell and pendant, and your address was carved into it. The little guy loved to slip out of your apartment at night, often returning to the streets he was so accustomed to. He always came back, sometimes days after disappearing. He brought you little presents, ranging from dead mice to shiny, crimson gems that looked like they could’ve been worth a fortune. Snowball, as you had fondly named him, was truly a marvel. He was adjusting to domestic life well, but you didn’t stifle him when he wanted to spend his nights perusing the city and stirring up little cat mischief.

You were grateful for the company. You’d been living in the city for about a year, having relocated to its heart for your job. You didn’t have any family in the area, so you relied heavily on your coworkers for social interaction. Otherwise, you were on your own. 

It was pleasant to have a little fur ball bouncing around your home, knocking things off your dresser, shacking up in your pantry, or hiding under your dining table, ready to attack your ankles. He brought excitement to your otherwise humdrum life, keeping you on your toes while curling up at your feet, expressing his gratitude for everything you’d done for him thus far. 

You were content despite your solitude, looking forward to what your furry companion had in store for you each day.

You awaken to sunbeams coloring the space behind your eyelids. To the melody of birds chirping and cars occasionally easing by on the street. 

A quiet smile rounding your lips, you reach beside you to pet through familiar tufts of white. Snowball routinely curls up next to your head on the pillow when you sleep. You haven’t yet opened your eyes, so you’re a little caught off guard when his fur feels slightly shorter than usual. 

Still, you wear a smile as you fondly coo at your kitty, your voice rough with sleep. He doesn’t purr in response, which is strange given his purr motor’s always been broken. He never knows when to stop. Perhaps he doesn’t feel well today? 

Cautiously, you pry your eyes open, your vision blurry from the sun's rays. Through the haze, you ingest a familiar wash of stark white. Your eyesight gradually corrects, and you can discern shapes and colors. Upon taking in the scene beside you, you stiffen, your silly little smile frozen in place.

On the other side of your bed, where Snowball would usually be roosted, quietly waiting for you to stir from your slumber, lies a tan stretch of skin. Recognizable red eyes watch you beneath short, swept lashes, blinking sluggishly, a humored cant to pink-petaled lips. 

Reality slowly trickles in. There is very much a warm-blooded man beside you in place of your darling feline. Your smile melts away, traded for something of confusion. And once you’ve fully processed the moment, you do what any logical person would do given this situation: you scream.

The strange man beside you winces, a searing, heavy hand shooting out to cover your mouth. Your voice dies in the back of your throat, and the stranger takes you in with mild irritation donning his features.

“Must you be so noisy?” he grouses, the rough slide of his voice furling in your stomach. You blink owlishly at him, his hand still clamped over your mouth. 

As the adrenaline spuming through your body tempers, and you’ve taken more time to breathe and assess your situation, you fully observe the intruder.  And with a mixture of horror and confusion, you intake a familiar set of ivory, tufted ears twitching atop his head.

Again, you let your instincts guide you, and you do what one would typically do in this situation: you reach out to tweak said ears, confirming the familiar glide of silken fur beneath your fingertips. The stranger sucks in a breath, jerking away from your prodding. He fixes you with an iron gaze that pierces straight through to your soul. A look you’re all too familiar with, Snowball having pinned you with it at random times throughout your day.

You scream again, the sound of it muffled behind the meatiness of the stranger’s palm. Only, this is no stranger.

Is this—is this Snowball?

[zuhayaa]

[eileenwdj]

save a horse ride a what 🗣📢

[worldly-fluster]

I share cause this is CUTE with everything I want.

Grassland Romance AU: Winter Winds

Summary: You've been slowly falling in love with Sylus, a strange outsider who joined your tribe some time ago. You haven't been able to pluck up the courage to say anything. However, when you are caught alone in the fiercest blizzard anyone can remember, it might not be up to you anymore.

AO3

CW: AFAB reader, no use of y/n, pet names (sweetie, little huntress), blizzard, hypothermia, hunting, nude spooning, 90% fluff by volume, sexual themes (but no sex), not proofread, melodrama (god so much melodrama).

Word count: 8k

Notes: poor Luke and Kieran have to be dogs in this AU.

“Don’t be stupid,” you scoff, “how can lemmings foretell the weather? Their brains are the size of grass seeds!” The bay mare you’re sitting astride shakes her head, before pawing through the watery, heavy snow on the ground to reach the hidden grasses underneath.

Today, as with most days, you are minding the herds with your friend Cota. The two of you are practically sisters, as her family had raised you after your parents perished when you were a young child.

“I’m not the one who said it!” She protests, leaning back to aim a kick at your foot succeeding at knocking it out of your stirrup. “I’m just telling you what Elder Shikigur said, and he said, ‘There’s too many lemmings moving, there will be a large storm coming.’”

You groan. Blizzards are a continual hazard of grassland winters. Harsh winds are able to scream across the treeless landscape with terrifying fury, tearing through even thick winter deels, and whirling snow into a blinding haze. Preparing for one means rounding up the flocks, reinforcing yurts to hold against wind and snowfall, and digging out of the yurts once the storm is through. They’re critical jobs that need to be done. That is, when the weather actually calls for it.

“It’s practically spring!” You argue, gesturing wildly to the half-melted pasture around the two of you, “It’s so damn warm, that I couldn’t even wear my thickest deel today! I would’ve been covered in sweat!”

Cota shrugs, “I’m just telling you what the elders were gossiping about.”

“Well, regardless of what they say, I’m not taking out my winter deel again until next winter.”

“I bet you would if Sylus asked you to.”

You feel the color rise in your cheeks at the sing-song tease, and the mention of his name.

You aim a return kick at Cota’s leg, but she reins her mare to the side in time to evade you. “I would not! And besides, he’s out with some of the others hunting pheasant, anyway.”

Cota’s smile grows wider, “Oh ho, so you’ve been keeping track of which hunting parties he goes with, huh?”

An irritated groan leaves your throat as your friend laughs. “Aren't you supposed to be heading back about now? I'll tell the elders you've been slacking to sit around and gossip.”

“Aw, don't pout! It's cute, all your pining. You're going to have to do something soon though, otherwise some other girl is going to catch his eye at a festival, and then what will you do?”

“I’m pretty sure you're supposed to be helping with cooking right now, aren't you?”

Cota makes her own irritated groan, “No one likes when I cook anyway!”

“Better that than you sitting here and teasing me.”

She makes a rude gesture at you, and you return it.

"Fine,” she grumbles, “but keep an eye on the weather, okay?”

“Of course, I'll let you know if the lemmings are oracles or not.”

Cota rolls her eyes with a scoff, before reining her horse around and trotting back to the village. It’s good timing, you notice the right side of the herd has started to splinter a bit, and needs to be rounded back in.

As you go about your job, you can’t stop your mind from pondering over your relationship with the strange man.

Sylus had come to the tribe as an outsider a few years ago. Strong and skilled in both riding and archery, he’d been welcomed into the fold immediately, seemingly to his own surprise. His striking appearance had immediately caught many eyes; tall, broad and strong in the chest, with eyes the color of freshly-spilled blood set in a devastatingly handsome face. The one criticism you heard of him was of his curt, reticent nature, that meant he constantly had a severe expression on his face.

Well, almost-constantly.

Within a month after joining the tribe, there had begun to be problems with a particular wolf picking off sheep in the night. It had always seemed to know where to attack, far enough away from any of the herders that it was impossible to reach him in time. It even managed to evade the vigilant Bankhar dogs, who kept constant watch on their flock, and rarely let a wolf’s presence go unpunished. The predator managed to evade everyone. Everyone except Sylus.

It had only taken two nights of Sylus on guard, before he returned in the early morning light, with the giant, tawny corpse of the wolf thrown over one shoulder. He’d managed to kill it, in the dark, with a single arrow to its skull. The entire tribe had celebrated that night; an end to the nights of doubled watches in the dark and lost sheep. Wine and kumis had run freely that night, along with music and dancing in the center of the temporary village.

The wolf’s body had been set aside, to be skinned for the fur and used as linings and blankets to guard against the frigid winter months. Even in death, it still looked fierce, its fur sleek and body corded with lean muscle that reminded you of its killer. You had bent down to examine the bared teeth, sharp and white against the pale flesh of the gums. You reached out to draw your finger over one of the fangs, curious to see if it would be sharp like a knife, or blunt like one of the Bankhar dogs.

“Disturbing the dead?”

The deep voice, close enough to feel against the back of your neck, had you stumbling backwards, and gracelessly falling on your ass. A throaty chuckle came from above your head, and you had looked up to see Sylus, his face smug and scarlet eyes dancing with laughter.

“It doesn’t count if it’s a wolf,” You grumbled, pulling yourself off the ground, “ass.”

His head was cocked to the side as you rose, finger tapping his cheek in mock-thought, “I thought a wolf was supposed to be the father of the first herdsmen? Wouldn’t that make this creature here your cousin?”

“That’s an old story, no one believes that.”

His answering smile was sharp, eyes darkening into a sneer. “Is that so?” He drew closer, close enough that you could feel his breath on your face, and feel the fabric of his deel brushing against yours. The gaze he cast down made you realize what a cornered sheep must feel like in the moments before jaws close around its throat. “I think there’s more of wolves in people than you realize.” His growl was just as deep as the dogs when they scented a threat.

A part of you wanted to shrink down in your boots, make your excuses, and flee. But, a much larger, louder part of you was indignant. How dare this man sneak up on you in the dark, make you fall over in surprise, then have the audacity to growl at you like a beast?

So you had tipped your chin up defiantly, “Better be careful. Apparently even the cleverest wolves get arrows in their heads.”

He had stared at you for a moment. Made a single blink. Then a strange, amused smile curled across his face. “Are you going to be the one to fire it, little huntress?”

“If you don’t back up, maybe I will.”

Sylus chuckled then, backing up a few steps. You released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, body thrumming with… anxiety? Excitement? Both? You couldn’t tell. To distract yourself, you turned your attention back to the kill.

“It’s kind of a shame, really. It’s a pretty creature.”

His head cocked to the side again, though the curiosity in his eyes seemed to be genuine this time. “Feeling bad for the predator?”

“He was just trying to live.”

He huffs a small laugh through his nose. “You’re cute.”

“Excuse me?” You look at him, deeply irritated at his patronizing tone.

“Most animals that steal livestock are weak. They’re sick, or injured. Otherwise it just isn’t worth risking the tangle with dogs or people. This one,” he gives the corpse a nudge, “was perfectly healthy. Strong. But instead of using its smarts to take on saiga, or capercaille, it decided to take the easy way out. It never would have stopped, once it knew that it could fool the shepherds.”

You had sighed a little, knowing that in this instance, he was right. “I know. It still seems like a shame. But at least we’ll stop losing so many sheep.”

You had looked up then to find Sylus staring at you with such intensity that you had taken a step backwards. “What?”

He blinked, the intensity dissipating as quickly as a strike of lightning. “Nothing, sweetie.”

“Sweetie?” Your nose wrinkled at the childish nickname.

He gave a small laugh, a mischievous glint coming to his blood red eye, “You feel pity for a predator that would have snapped you up in an instant. It’s very sweet, if maybe a bit naïve.”

“It sounds like something you’d call a toddler.”

“I suppose it does,” the glint was quickly accompanied by an equally mischievous curl to his smirk, “I suppose I’ll have to call you that when you’re acting like a toddler, sweetie.”

“Ugh. Ass.” You’d turned on your heel to return to the fire, trailed by the sound of deep, smug chuckling.

Since then, Sylus always seemed to show up near you, whether you wanted him there or not. And, at least at first, you certainly leaned more towards the former. He had a talent for approaching silently, getting that smugly pleased look from startling you into stumbling or squeaking. He also began to challenge you, goading you into contests or archery, or riding, or throwing knuckle bones. He was nearly impossible to beat, and even on the rare occasions that you won, he had the gall to look completely unbothered by your triumph.

Really, after a few months, you should have hated him.

But in between all of the needling and teasing and challenges, you began to learn more about Sylus. You learned that he enjoyed being out hunting or riding far more than he enjoyed being surrounded by people, even if they were praising him. You learned the long-limbed black stallion he rode when he first encountered your tribe had been declared untamable before Sylus had taken him. When one of the livestock dogs died shortly after having two pups, you even learned that (if he wanted to be) he could be downright gentle. He’d done so well in helping care for the pair, that as they grew, they followed him everywhere and obeyed his every command. All of this new familiarity, so at odds with your first impression of him, had cultivated a quiet companionship between the two of you.

Even more surprising were the moments of softness, startlingly close to affection. When Sylus had sat drinking kumis with you on the new year, and you’d excitedly shared your hopes for what was to come, he listened with a quiet smile. He’d brought you the furs from the wolf he’d killed when you caught a particularly nasty winter cold, and had even insisted you keep it after you recovered. When you met other tribes for trade, he often found you afterwards, giving you some ornament or silk from beyond the grasslands. Despite the fact he’d never admitted to it, you knew that when his two dogs accompanied you out into the grasses to watch the flocks, he’d commanded them to do so.

Maybe most importantly, he’d specifically sought you out to show you a den where wolf cubs were playing in the summer, knowing you’d like to see them tussle.

They’d been adorable, large paws and ears far too big for their fluffy bodies. The two of you had left your horses some yards away and sat down a bit distant from the pups, down wind and silent so as not to give your presence away. For a while you couldn't take your eyes off their energetic forms, tussling in the dust in front of the den, chewing on each others’ ears, yelping and licking when it became too rough. Eventually you'd looked to Sylus to ask him something, but your eyes had fallen on the short, recurve bow at his side.

“You're not going to kill them, are you?” You'd whispered

He raised an eyebrow at you in a wordless question.

You checked quickly to make sure the pups hadn't heard you. Fortunately, they still seemed to be involved in their own games.

“I mean. I know they're wolves. They might eat our flocks when they get older. But, they're just babies.”

He blinked at you, with an odd, expression you couldn't place. He rose soon after, walking silently away from the den. You'd followed him, confused.

“Hey,” you hissed, “What are you doing now?”

“Leaving. One parent or the other would've been back soon to feed them. Then I would've actually had to use this.” He tapped the bow that was now slung over his shoulder.

“Oh.” You murmured, realization dawning, “Is that what you brought it for? If one of the parents came back?”

“I certainly wouldn't have needed it to kill a fragile little pup.” He scoffed. “Besides, there's no use in killing something weak and defenseless. Though it's nice to know just how highly you think of me, sweetie.”

“That's not-” a frustrated noise had escaped you as you struggled for words, “I don't think that of you. It just… others would have done that. To make sure they didn't grow up to prey on our animals.”

He turned to you then, with a gaze that seemed to be searching you, trying to find the truth of something. “And I'm ‘others’ to you?”

“Of course not!”

He arched an eyebrow for the second time that day at the vehemence in your voice.

"You're the strongest warrior we have. And an infuriating opponent. But you're also the person who protects orphaned dogs. And brings me extra furs when I'm sick. And-” you stopped yourself before you could incriminate yourself further, taking a small breath to collect yourself. “You're Sylus. Not… Others.”

There was a small silence between the two of you for a moment, as you walked over the flowing grasses together. The only sound was the occasional waves of wind across the landscape.

It was broken, only slightly, by Sylus repeating those words. “Not others.” He said them quietly, slowly, as though testing out strange words in a new language. When you turned to look at him, you caught a glimpse of a small, soft smile on his face. A look so deeply genuine, and beautifully content, it made your breath catch in your chest.

Things had begun to change after the day with the wolves. You were beginning to come familiar with the slight curve of his smile, his real smile. Instead of your usual irritation, the glint that so often came to his eye when he was planning mischief fanned a wave of warmth in you. You began craving the slight huff of breath he gave when amused with something you’d done. The deep chuckle he sometimes gave when his body drew close to yours made something strange and molten coil in your gut. When he was out hunting saiga, you found yourself unusually sullen and snappish. And when you heard people whooping and clamoring at the return of the hunting parties, you’d be jostling to the front of the small crowd to see him.

You’d started to notice things though, in this time. The gossip among the elders as they cooked about when Sylus would marry, and whose granddaughter would be the lucky catch. The gaggles of women that followed him when he’d practice archery or spectate his races, giggling and blushing. Some of the bolder women would even bring him wine at the fireside and try to curl against him (you wished sometimes that he’d respond with more than amused chuckles at their ridiculousness, though it did produce a gratifying amount of insult in the rejected ladies). Last year at the games, you noticed he’d received pouches from women of every tribe. The smug look he gave you when he’d noticed you glaring at them had been insufferable, and you couldn’t quite force yourself to congratulate him on the numerous offers.

And yet, Sylus remained alone. You didn’t even notice other women entering his yurt (though you’d die before you admitted to watching for such). You didn’t know what you’d do if he did take an interest in someone. The thought of someone else being transfixed by that soft smile in the quiet hours of the night made bile rise in your throat. But there was always the chance that he simply valued his freedom; and being rejected in favor of an ideal you could never match seemed just as nauseating.

You mull over these thoughts as you and your mare round the goats back to the group. Or, at least, attempt to. One of the damn things stubbornly refuses to rejoin the group. You can swear you see defiance in its eyes when it looks at you. Challenging you. Mocking, even. Every time you have it going the right direction, it turns and bolts in a random direction, leaving you and your bay sliding in the slush. You then have to catch back up to it, and start herding it back once more.

You’re an excellent shepherdess, with a keen eye and a skilled hand with a bow. You've rarely lost an animal on your watch, and certainly never on purpose. But at this point, even you are beginning to think that losing one goat would really not be all that bad if it means this one wouldn’t be part of the herd anymore. Besides, a wind is beginning to rise, a cold one that cuts through the previously-warm day like a freshly-sharpened knife. You’re beginning to wonder if maybe the lemmings were smarter than you’d thought.

After one more, particularly long chase, you give in.

“Fine then!” You yell at the animal, which stood watching you with unaffected eyes as it chewed grass, “you want to deal with a blizzard alone? Go ahead! I’ll laugh when you end up as a goat-cicle! Laugh!”

With a huff, you turn your horse about, ready to gallop back to the herd, and start moving them to a more sheltered part of the pasture. The animals, however, have moved further away on their own. You can see the large dark mass of them in the distance, and you feel a slight unease in your gut. You're not sure how much you believe about oracle lemmings, but you know livestock well; They instinctively group up close when bad weather is imminent, and it seems that they are bracing for a storm now.

Even more worrying is the wall of iron-gray clouds you see blowing in. They're advancing rapidly, overtaking the sky at a pace you've rarely seen before. The wind, too, is beginning to blow so furiously it all but screams, whipping any unmelted snow up into the air.

You again feel that unease in your gut. The village is even further than the herd from where you are at the moment. Thanks to the previously warm weather, you're woefully unprepared to weather a blizzard alone. But both your other options are bleak; either try to make it to the village and hope there's not enough falling snow to make you lose your way, or try your luck with the herd and hope their bodies keep you warm enough to make it through. At least if you make it to the village, your survival is guaranteed. The same can't be said of the herd.

You rein your mare toward the direction of the village, just as the first volley of fresh snowflakes batter your face and hands. And despite your own dire situation, you can't help but think of Sylus, out with the other hunters. They may have arrived home already, and even if they haven’t, their chances are good; the men should be able to find protection from the wind and cold in a group. Nevertheless, your gut twists with anxiety. Hunters rarely stay completely together. And even in the few minutes you’ve been galloping towards the village, visibility is worsening. The gusts of wind have turned into blasts, ripping through your deel and chilling you to your bones. The blasts are also heaving the already-fallen snowflakes up to rejoin the fresh ones in the air, and creating moments where the landscape is inscrutable.

Between the moments of furious wind, you can see the outline of the village. Even as your heart pounds with hope at the sight, a needling numbness begins to take hold in your hands, making it difficult to keep hold of the reins. You try to switch hands; tucking one into the overlapping fold of your deel in an effort to keep it warm, before switching to the other. The biting wind, though, is so vicious and unforgiving, that it takes a mere few seconds for whatever warmth one hand has gained to be lost. At the same time, the numbness has taken hold in your feet, making it impossible to distribute your weight properly. The violent shivers as your body tries to warm itself are a further complication.

It only takes one misstep from your mare. One hoof landing on some uneven ground, causing her to stumble. And despite the high-backed saddle, and your best efforts, it’s impossible to keep your seat. You land hard in the snow. It’s soft enough, at least, that you’re pretty sure nothing is broken. Not that it matters much. Lost and alone in the screaming wind, and featureless white storm, you are as good as dead.

It feels like an eternity that you lie there in the snow, body wracked by violent shivers in a last-ditch attempt to survive. Logically you know it can’t have been more than a handful of minutes, since you are still alive and conscious, but time loses its meaning in a situation like this. Everything ceases to exist, save for the horrible wind and the bone-deep, soul-leaching cold. The snow is falling fast, fast enough that it’s already covered you as you try to huddle for a semblance of warmth. You’ve been buried alive, waiting to die as the world around you slowly quiets and darkens.

A morbid part of you wonders if the tribe will find you, once the snow begins to melt. You imagine Cota will insist they stay long enough to find your remains. You hope she doesn’t feel guilty; neither of you could’ve known the storm would come on so fast. Your mind wanders to Sylus, too. Did the hunters make it back home before the storm hit? You pray they did; or at least they were together when the snow began to fall. The thought of Sylus in the same situation as yourself seems impossible. You have to believe it’s impossible. Entertaining any other idea strikes a dread into your heart as cold as your little tomb. You pray instead that he’s made it back, that he is safe, and warm. And, if you’re able to be a little idealistic, perhaps wondering where you are.

Quite suddenly, a sound shatters your quiet morbidity. Stark against the background of shrieking wind, there is a deep bark. Then another, closer. Soon, there is a constant barrage of the noises.

Hope burns bright in your heart. Maybe, just maybe, all is not yet lost.

You try to shift under the snow, trying to claw your way out of your icy grave. But your limbs are trembling so hard, so frequently, that controlling them is near impossible. Worse, your muscles are becoming weak. Soon they’ll be too exhausted to even shiver, much less move the heavy snow that entombs you. Nevertheless, you have to try. You must try. Because if you don’t, your last hope of warmth will move on, and then you will truly be as good as dead.

Your efforts come to a halt when a startlingly loud crunching begins in the snow above and around you. It doesn’t take long before the blanket of snow is lifted from your head, and a warm puff of air greets your face.

You open your eyes. And instead of a blinding white storm, your vision is filled with deep brown eyes set in a furry face as black as night. The same face that Sylus has sent to accompany you on night watches and sunny days alike. You smile at the familiar creature, despite the chattering of your teeth.

“H-hey, boy.” You whisper, your numb hand reaching up to sink into the dog’s deep fur. You can still hear his brother nearby, barking furiously above the wind.

Though Sylus knows them at a glance, you've never been particularly good at telling the two dogs apart by looks. They're both black, with intelligent eyes and powerful frames. In behavior though, they are slightly different. Gerel is louder, and more playful. Khar, though quieter, is definitely the smarter of the two. He's likely the one blocking your body from the worst of the wind, now.

You try to call Gerel over as his brother curls himself around your quivering body, but it’s too hard to draw a deep breath. Instead, you lean against the one lying on you, burying your face and hands against the one reprieve from the cold. You can think of nothing else but how good the slight amount of warmth feels, even as your fingers begin to burn slightly from the frostbite. It is a promising pain, one that feels of returning life rather than looming nothingness. You doubt it will be enough to truly save you, but at least you have some source of comfort now.

Eventually Gerel goes quiet, and you begin to worry he's become lost in the storm as well. You lift your face from Khar's fur, and try again to call his brother, but fail. Khar perks up, though, his massive tail wagging a fan-shaped dent in the snow. Perhaps he can smell his brother on the fierce wind?

A few moments later, you hear it. A deep, commanding voice that cuts through the shrieking wind like a blade, calling your name.

Sylus.

You don’t know why he’s here, or if he’s even real. It may be an illusion conjured by your failing mind and body. It does not matter. Real or not, you must go to him.

You try to draw yourself up, try to call his name, but Khar remains a dead weight on you. You try to shove him, but your muscles are still shaking uncontrollably, making any efforts to dislodge Khar useless.

Please, you think desperately, please, I need to go to him. I need him, I need Sylus.

In the midst of your struggle with the animal laying on you, you very nearly miss the crunching of snow approaching you. Gerel soon appears, fur nearly white with the coating of heavy, wet snow that clings to him. And directly behind him is a sight that would make you weep if you had the breath for it.

It's Sylus. He's battered by the wind and ice as he wades through the fresh snow, only a step behind Gerel. His face bears a sharp, unwavering determination and ferocity that puts even this storm to shame as he wades through the drifts. His eyes, bright scarlet amidst the daunting white, lock onto yours. Only when his master is a single step away from you does Khar finally wiggle himself off of you. The wind immediately rips away all the warmth the dog has lent you. But you feel the loss only for a moment, as in the next breath, Sylus has yanked you bodily out of the snow and crushed you against himself.

“Found you,” his deep voice is quiet, heavy with an emotion you can’t name. And oh, oh, even if this is a dream sent to ease your last moments, you do not care. There is no one you’d rather imagine at your side right now.

He releases you, only slightly, to tug off his own gloves and put them on your trembling hands. The heat that envelopes them makes your skin burn, and a whine that is half-choked by shivers bubble out of your throat.

“Bear with it,” he murmurs, wrapping a thicker, warm deel over your current one, “You won’t be able to beat me at archery if you lose your fingers, little huntress.”

Normally, you would call him an ass, berate him for worrying about losing his archery competitor as he gave you a smug smile for taking his bait. But you can’t. Your mind is foggy, and all you can do is curl into him as he sweeps you up into his arms. You notice briefly that his eyes have narrowed again. He looks… irritated maybe? Angry? You aren’t sure. Before you can think about it for very long, though, you are distracted by a sharp whistle from Sylus, shrill and sharp even over the unending wind. It’s followed by a whinny, as his tall, powerful horse wades through the snow with a determination identical to his master’s.

Sylus walks to meet the horse halfway. He says something, and then suddenly his arm drops out from under your legs. You stumble slightly, knees buckling under your own weight as your boots drop through the knee-high snow. You are strangely surprised when you don't hit the ground, and it takes you a moment to realize that Sylus has a hold on your waist, steadying you.

Oh. He was going to set you down. That's what he had said. Of course.

You look up at him, and find a hard expression on his face. Why does he look angry now? You don’t understand.

His bright eyes bore into your own, cutting through the confusion for a moment. When his voice comes, it is a command, not a request.

“Stay with me.”

You're not sure why he's saying this. It's not like you're going anywhere. All you want right now is to just curl up and sleep, back in his arms, if possible. But you nod anyway.

Sylus swings himself up onto his horse, settling himself behind the canticle. This again confuses you. You're supposed to sit on the seat. Not behind it. But before you can continue puzzling over this, Sylus has bent half-over, wrapped an arm around you once more, and hauled you up against the side of the horse. The pressure of it is uncomfortable, and you try to squirm out of the grasp. Sylus's hold is sure, though, and before you can break it, he's hooked the other arm under your knee, and lifted you up into the seat of the saddle.

You try to brace your legs, to keep your seat as the stallion begins to move beneath you, but your vicious shivers make it difficult to control your limbs, even for an action as instinctive to you as walking. Before you can falter though, Sylus’s arm wraps around you, holding you safe and steady against him.

You do your best to keep your eyes open against the biting wind and freezing snow. But the scant amount of warmth you can feel through the thickness of both your clothes, paired with the movements of the stallion slowed by the snow, is almost hypnotic. And you are tired, oh, so tired.

“You lost this game,” he says, in that damn smug voice that always makes you want to punch his arm.

“Game?”

He gives an affirmative hum. “Hide and seek. I found you, didn't I? That's another victory for me.”

You give a grunt of disgust, still not sure what he's talking about, but irritated by the condescension in his voice all the same.

“Don't be such a sore loser, sweetie.”

You don't know why you're even sitting on the same horse as him.

“A-ass,” you hiss around the waves of shivers. “Sh-should. P-push off.”

The dark chuckle behind you is as alluring as it is infuriating. “I'd love to see you try.”

You do try, for a moment, pushing against his hold. But you are soon frustrated by how clumsy your movements are, and exhausted by the effort. Sylus's tight grip is immovable anyway.

“Seems I'm still on the horse, sweetie.” Comes the singsong mocking from behind you.

You give a grunt in response. You can't be bothered to be angry. All you can feel is the heavy tiredness dulling all your senses.

Sylus says your name, sharply. There's an odd tone to it. You don't care enough to think about why.

You're vaguely aware of being jostled. And then, for a while, you are senseless.

The damn shivering is what wakes you. It's so violent and pervasive that it drives the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping between the waves of trembling to try and regain it. On instinct, you try to curl into yourself, but are unable to. In fact, apart from the tremors, you can’t move your body at all. You seem to be surrounded by some sort of heavy mass, pressing on every inch of you. You struggle, pushing against the weight near your face to get some breathing room. The mass grunts, then moves away for a moment, freeing your head and upper body. You have only a moment of reprieve from the claustrophobia before…

Something warm, wet, and slimy drags across your face.

“Ur-rgh!” You bring a quivering arm up to rub away the slime.

A deep chuckle rumbles behind you, the breath of it close enough to make warmth fan across the back of your skull, “Is that how you thank Khar for helping to save your life, sweetie?”

Your eyes snap open at the familiar voice; although instead of the carmine eyes and seductive smirk you expect, your vision is filled (for the second time today) by pitch-dark fur and smiling brown eyes set in a distinctly canine face. Right as that same face applies another sloppy lick to yours.

“Kh-khar!” You squeak, bringing your now-free arms up to protect your face from the onslaught of affection. “Th-thanks, but s-stop!”

Khar obediently jumps down from where you’re laying, though he gives you a pathetic whine. A further weight is removed from your lower half when Gerel reluctantly hefts himself off of you to join his brother on the floor, giving you a similarly dejected look.

Without Khar laying on you, you can see more of your surroundings. It’s clear that you’re in a yurt, one that is unfamiliar to you. The only light source is the barely-visible fire crackling complacently in the small stove at the center, leaving much of the place in shadow. Is it night, then? Why are you here? And why do your hands and feet feel like they are burning?

You flex your hands between shivers in an attempt to stop the strange, tingling heat. If anything, that seems to make the feeling sharper, more biting in its ferocity. Shifting them out from underneath a heavy woolen blanket and furs to inspect them gives no answers, given the dim light.

“Can you still feel them?” Sylus’s voice, humorless this time, cuts through the slowly-lifting fog of unconsciousness and confusion.

“H-hurts.”

“Good, that means there’s still life in them. Better than losing such pretty fingers to frostbite.” Memories come to you at the word ‘frostbite’. They are hazy, as though recalling a dream several hours after waking; the dogs finding you in the snow, warming you and guiding Sylus to you through the blinding storm, Sylus carrying you in his arms, and keeping you upright in the saddle before you drifted into unconsciousness.

“Syl-” Your words are cut short. In trying to turn to face him, you realize that his powerful arm is curled around your waist.

Your naked waist. And at your back, you do not feel the rough texture of clothes; but instead the heated, sticky kind of softness of skin on bare skin.

Your body stills in shock; suddenly, you are horribly, wonderfully conscious of every inch Sylus has pressed against you: The firmness of his chest, the sharp jut of his hips, the tangle of his legs around and between yours, and (both the most enticing and mortifying of all) the warm, heavy weight of what must be his cock nestled against your ass.

That damned smug chuckle comes again, “I was wondering how long it would take you to notice. It took you a while; maybe I should be more worried about your head than your fingers, hm?”

You stutter a few times, as your mind comes to terms with your situation, before blurting in a rush, “Where are my clothes, Sylus!? Where are yours!?”

“Ah, you mean our freezing, sopping wet clothes?” His tone is almost sing-song in its blithe news, and bereft of any shame, “I took the liberty of removing them so that you didn't continue freezing to death.”

Somehow, his complete lack of any embarrassment heightens your own, as though your mind has determined to make up the difference between the pair of you. The heated panic in combination with exhaustion, confusion, and desire collide in a nerve-wracking swirl. You scramble wildly to get up, get away from this source of searing, tumultuous emotions. But the movement of your hands makes them burn as you try to gain purchase In the blankets and furs, and his arm around you is immovable as stone. “You- I- Couldn’t you have just thrown a blanket on me or- or something!? Gods, let go!”

He gives a derisive snort. “You would have just frozen to death under a blanket instead of snow. You didn’t have any heat left to trap, so I lent you some of mine. And no.”

“No what?”

“I just risked my life in a blizzard hunting for you, and I’m not about to let all my effort go to waste when I’ve already caught my prize. So, no, I will not be letting you go.”

“This isn’t- Can’t you just put on some damned pants, at least?”

“Hm, I could… but are you sure you want me to?”

“Sylus!!”

He gives a full laugh at your flustered squeak, “Once I’m sure that you’ve completely warmed up, I will. Until then, I suggest you stay still. Unless you’d like me to warm you up a different way. But I’d suggest waiting until your hands have healed.”

He must be teasing, surely. Delighting in your embarrassment as always. Still, a tiny, idiotically hopeful part of you can’t help but wonder… if you were able to see his face right now, would you see a small glimmer of want for you underneath the inscrutable mask? You dismiss the thought quickly. Even if you were able to see his face, you’d only see that damn self-satisfied smirk that makes your stomach twist.

“The elders are going to be insufferable about this,” You mutter, desperate you lay those thoughts to rest. Well, as best as you can, considering Sylus is curled around you.

“So what? Let them talk.”

“Easy for you to say. They won’t say anything to you; you’re the one half of them are looking to marry their daughters off to.” You’re only aware of the venom in your last few words after they’ve already left your mouth. You pray Sylus doesn’t notice.

But of course he does.

“Jealous, little huntress?” You can hear the smile in his voice

“You’re an ass, do you know that?”

“I’m hurt sweetie. I run out into a storm to find my poor, lost huntress, and in return she calls me an ass.”

He gives a mock-sigh, but something in his words raises a question in your mind. Sylus had been out with the other hunters just before the storm hit. You hadn’t even been sure he would make it back to the village in time, but somehow he managed to find you?

“How did you even know I was out there?”

Sylus pauses for a moment. His voice, once he does speak, is startlingly somber. “Some of the hunting group saw the cloud wall rolling in. We rode back as fast as possible. Even so, if we’d had further to go, the wind would’ve outpaced us. I’ve never seen clouds that heavy and fast, outside of summer storms.”

“I tried to ride back too, when I saw them. But with the cold, I couldn’t feel my hands, and the rough ground…” You trail off, fully prepared to be teased about your riding skills. Instead, you feel an ever-so-slight tightening of his arm around you. You wonder if he’s even aware of his own movement.

Sylus continues, “When we arrived, people came out to greet us and help get everything secured before the worst of the storm. I didn’t see you throwing people out of the way like usual.”

“I do not throw people out of the way,” You mutter.

“If you say so, little huntress.” You can hear the smile in his voice for a moment, though it disappears when he continues, “I found Cota, and asked where you were. When she said you were out shepherding, I knew you wouldn’t make it back before the snow came. So, I took Khar and Gerel, and had them track you.”

“Was anyone else missing?”

“We’ll find out after the storm.”

The two of you are quiet for a moment, as you process his response. He didn’t notice anyone else was gone. He didn’t ask to see if any others were lost. He didn’t bother to try and search for anyone else in the snow.

He noticed you were missing.

He asked where you were.

He went into the storm for you.

“You… Sylus, were you out in that storm, just to find me?”

A small, humorless huff of laughter fans across the back of your skull again. “I wasn’t out there just taking a stroll, sweetie.”

“You could’ve lost Gerel and Khar. And your horse. And your life.”

“Worried about me, hm?”

Of course you were. Sylus is a strong, clever man. Perhaps the greatest warrior and hunter your tribe has known; but even the greatest of mortals are brought to their knees by the forces of nature and the whims of chance. You want to tell him all this, tell him that the thought of him standing alone amidst the howling winds, searching for the path to safety… even just thinking about it makes your chest feel as empty and cold as the storm still raging outside. Your breath catches, and you cannot force the words, glutted with feelings as they are, out of your throat.

So instead you reply, “It’s a big risk to take.”

“Maybe.” His tone is nonchalant, as though he is talking about what he’d brought home from hunting, rather than the act of risking his dearest possessions and life trying to save you in near-hopeless conditions. “But I don’t gamble unless the prize is worth the risk.”

It takes you a moment to digest the words, heart caught in your throat, hardly daring to believe that you’ve understood him correctly. A fragile but brilliant hope lights in your chest. You had been aware of the friendship that had begun to form between you and Sylus, and you had been aware of your desire to be something more to him, to be someone he wanted. But you hadn’t dared to imagine occupying a position of such value to him.

“You think I’m worth all that…?”

You don’t mean to say the words aloud, but the exhaustion loosens your lips just enough for them to spill out. Immediately your stomach lurches at a strange, shifting fear. Perhaps speaking the thought aloud has crossed some sort of line, daring the universe to snuff out your hope just as it had been lit.

A soft, teasing lilt returns to his voice as he speaks, “I believe that’s what I just said, little huntress. Hm, maybe I should be more concerned about your head.” The hand that isn’t curled around your middle gives the top of your head a soft tap, tap, tap.

A small, breathless laugh bubbles up out of your chest, the hope within you flaring bright and making your heart race. You don’t know how he manages to do it; to convey something as heartfelt as ‘you are worth risking my life and all I hold dear’, while simultaneously sounding like it’s the most simple thing in the world. Something that should be obvious even to a small child.

It’s a special talent you’ve noticed in Sylus ever since that day with the wolf pups; he makes you want to throttle him one moment, and in the next breath he’ll speak with such sincere simplicity that it utterly disarms you. He somehow manages to walk that fine line between keeping you on your toes with bantering, and keeping you grounded with his forthrightness. It's addictive. It's comforting. You're not even sure if it's something he tries to do, or if his natural state of being is just something that draws your soul in effortlessly.

You need to face him.

You turn in his grasp to look at him, trying to ignore the burst of prickling heat in your hands. It's worth the pain. Sylus is a striking picture in the low light; all silvery tousled hair, gold skin, and sanguine eyes, graced by a rare look of surprise for just a moment.

And then his face relaxes into a soft look, one you've started to see more and more, but never fails to make your heart race faster than a horse galloping over the grass sea.

“There you are,” he murmurs, voice rough and low. And you simply cannot help it. Frostbite be damned. You might die if you don't kiss him, and you've come close enough to that today already. You have to kiss him.

The press of your lips against his is insistent, but chaste. At least, at first. Sylus takes in a sharp breath, and for a fraction of a second you wonder if you've misread, if you've pushed too far. And then, his mouth becomes soft, and pliant, and something in your chest melts when the arm he has around you slides up your spine to press at the nape of your neck, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. A pleased sigh escapes you, unbidden. Before you are quite aware of your own movements, your hand is at his jaw, cupping his face, trying to pull him closer.

A new flare of pain sears your hand at the pressure, and you reflexively pull away with a hiss.

You open your eyes (when did they close?) to see Sylus, pupils blown wide, looking at you with that same sort of ferocity and determination you saw in him earlier, when your eyes met his in the storm. And for a moment, caught in that unwavering intensity, you swear your heart forgets how to beat.

His eyes remain fixed on your own as he takes your wrist and gently (too gently) moves it away from his face, which has settled back into its usual near-arrogant smirk. Reality crashes in on you then. You are in Sylus's yurt, kissing him, sharing a bed, naked. The realization is followed by a disorienting mix of embarrassment, pride, shame, and excitement. You've just kissed him for the first time, and you know if it weren't for the pain in your hands you would have taken as much as he would give you. Begged for it, maybe. What does he think of you now? How much would he let you take? What would you tell everyone once you left here?

But as usual, when your mind threatens to whirl itself into chaos, Sylus cuts through it.

“I'll have to collect on that part of my prize later, little huntress,” He murmurs, and you wonder if it is merely your imagination, or if he is actually as breathless as you are. His thumb strokes across the soft skin at the underside of your wrist, across the vein where your pulse is thrumming like a caught hare's. “I want to see what those pretty hands can do to me when they're all healed.”

Hearing him say it out loud makes the embarrassment resurface with a vengeance, and the barely-leashed heat in Sylus's gaze makes it unbearable. Breaking the stare, you take your hand back and shuffle under the blankets once more, until the hem falls across your cheek.

Sylus's amused chuckle earns him a glare from you, but your indignation is quickly soothed over as he drags his fingers through your hair, across your scalp, gently untangling the strands. After a few minutes, the gentle scratching opens the door for a wave of exhaustion, heightened by the warm darkness and the muffled howling of the winter winds outside.

You wonder, vaguely, if the touch was meant in apology, or to make you drowsy. You're not sure it matters. Sylus is here, looking at you with that affectionate, soft smile, as your lips begin to flutter.

“Sleep, shevonica,” is the last thing you hear before drifting into unconsciousness. This time, in the safety and warmth of Sylus’s hold.

[always-just-red]

15 for sylus if it inspires you at all👀 i love your work, it is always so playful and in character and the writing itself is lovely

Hiiiii! Thank you, and thanks so much for this prompt-- I laughed so much as soon as I read the words ‘heavenly harmonies’ with Sylus in mind ahaha 💀 Hope you enjoy!

Sylus X Reader 🩸🎄☃️❄️

Prompt #015: out on the streets doing christmas carolling, blessing the streets with the sweet voices of heavenly harmonies.

“You know, I think this is gonna be some kind of record.”

You give your collection basket a shake, enamoured by the hoard within: a sea of coins that clink, clink, clink as you jostle them, strewn with countless loose notes. There’s a watch in there, too.

“I told you, sweetie…” Sylus is using his phone as a mirror, adjusting the ‘scarf’ you fashioned him from a rope of ruby tinsel. “Your taste in music has room for improvement.” 

You’re not sure what tickles you more: the ironically tone-deaf comment, or the way his antlers jingle when he speaks. Of all the things you fished out from the back of your cupboard to dress-up your last-minute carolling partner, those must be your favourite. They’re red, soft— covered in tiny, gold bells. They’ve slipped slightly on his head, and you chew your lip as he reaches to steady them, making them jingle again. 

“Stop staring,” he tuts with a knowing smile, though his eyes never leave his reflection. 

“Stop preening,” you giggle back. “Who are you— Mephisto?” 

There’s a gentle snort as Sylus tucks his phone into his pocket. He crosses his arms, gazing up at the building you’re standing outside of. “We’re hitting this place next, hmm?” 

“Yep!” You rap a gloved hand against the door. “But don’t say it like that.” 

“Like what?”

“Like a mobster from a black and white movie. Capiche?”

You give him a side-eye. He trades you a smirk.

Warm tones of light leak from the house’s windows, and you feel cosy, despite the persistent bite of the snow and the cold. You knock on the door again; someone is clearly home, and this is the one time of year you get to be annoying without consequence. Twelve months of forced smiles and unrelenting politeness. You are the face of the Association, remember? 

But tonight— and just for tonight— that face can be whatever you want it to be. It’s for charity! 

You knock again. And then again. The house’s lights go out, but your face goes darker. You’re not leaving without something, not when Tara’s out on her winter fun-run, and Xavier’s risking civilian lives with a bake sale. You’re going to beat them. You have to beat them. 

… And raise money for the protection of harmless, small Wanderers, of course. 

Time for your secret weapon. You lift a finger from your basket— a conductor, preparing an orchestra for incoming instruction. Sylus knows the drill. You count him in with a: “one, two, three, four…” 

“Dashing through the snow,” he starts. 

“In a one-horse open sleigh!” 

“O’er the fields we go, laughing all the way!” 

Ha ha ha.

“Bells on bobtails ring, making spirits bright!”

Together: “What fun it is to ride and sing a sleighing song tonight, OH—!” 

The door is flung open, stopping both of you in your loud, tuneless tracks. “Here!” exclaims a flustered young man, “here— this is what you want, right? Take it!” 

He fumbles with his wallet for all of a second before emptying it into your basket. He shakes it to dislodge a few, stubborn coins.

“That’s really kind of you, sir. The Association appreciates your—” 

The door slams shut, but you couldn’t care less. You smile down at your little pile of treasure and almost squeal in delight.

“Happy?” Sylus asks. 

“More than happy!” You set the basket down then go up on your tiptoes, clasping his face with both hands. His antlers jingle. “You’re amazing, Sylus.” 

Soft as it is, it’s still an ambush. His eyes are wide, and he… doesn’t know what to say. 

Cold is seeping through your gloves. “Oh, are you warm enough?” you fret. Your hands fall from his cheeks so you can pull on the collar of his coat, drawing it closer around his neck. 

“I’m… fine.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.”

It’s not an argument you can win. You think if Sylus were frozen from the depths of his heart to the tips of his toes, he would still be out carolling with you. 

Selfless idiot. You laugh as you step back from him and stoop to collect your basket. “That’s a shame,” you tease. There’s a bounce in your step as you leave him. “I was gonna say we should go for hot chocolate. Or huddle for warmth, like penguins. Did you know that they—”

Sylus’s arms are around you suddenly, hugging you from behind so you can’t slip away again. His chin meets your shoulder, his face: the crook of your neck. You can feel his breath, warm on your skin where the night air won’t find it. It’s always been yours.

“I am a little cold,” he confesses, weak only with you. For you.

“Home and hot chocolate?” you chuckle. 

He sighs blissfully: “Please.”

[kinda-indecisive]

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⋆ Face Kisses pt. II ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳

Basically how I imagine their reactions to an onslaught of face kisses from you (MC). Fluff.

Part 2: The Rafayel and Sylus Edition!

+:★:+* *+:★:+* +:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+* *+:★+:★:+* *+:★

Rafayel

Enjoying the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against your ear, you are already comfortably nestled into your spot on his lap, arms lazily hung around his neck as he continues to flip quietly through the gallery catalog over your head.

A catalog Thomas had sent Rafayel to review a week ago, which you feel kinda guilty about.

Usually, Thomas can trust you to keep Raf in check, pushing him to slough through the boring stuff so that the two of you can spend the rest of your time together doing other, more exciting things. This past week, however, you had been having a really frustrating time dealing with a particularly nasty group of Wanderers that kept reappearing at the most inopportune times and locations. And, when you showed up in his studio, he noticed something was off instantly.

He’d taken it on as his duty to pull you out of your slump of frustration, dragging you from marketplace to marketplace, shop to shop, beach to beach, hoping to get your mind off of those “creativity sucking Wanderers with bad attitudes”. And that was just on the first day. All week, he’s been there the second you wake up, chattering excitedly about where you two were off to next. And, in all honesty, having him around has kinda helped.

And although you didn’t say it out loud, he sensed this, too. Hence the only reason he has finally given you a second to breathe, curled up in his lap on the sofa, the beach breeze gently blowing at the white curtains, and the only other movement in the room being his occasional page turning.

When he hums softly in disdain at something, you are snapped out of your comfy daze.

You really do appreciate how much effort he puts in to make you feel better at times like these. And even though he insists on brushing it off as no big deal (“I already needed to make a trip to this shop, cutie, you just saved me from having to go alone” ), you know that his actions have always spoken much louder, and much more clearly, than his words.

Your heart nearly bursts at how true the thought is and you shift in his lap to look down at him.

He groans loudly, setting the catalog aside, his eyebrows furrowed as he pouts up at you, “Why are you moving around so much? I was perfectly comfortable staying how we were before and I’ll never get any work done if you keep squirming…”

He continues to pout, even when you take his face between your palms. Such a nice face belonging to someone with such a good heart. An absolutely gorgeous face, even if he does keep that indignant little scowl and crease between his brows.

You kiss this space between his brows first, which makes his eyebrows raise in surprise. But before he even has a chance to collect himself from this initial surprise, you continue planting small kisses to cover the rest of his face, making sure to leave no space neglected.

“Alright, alright,” he says once you’ve already finished, clearing his throat and turning his face away, “You’re treating me like some kind of puppy. I’m not your pet, y’know.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and pretends to be annoyed, his face still turned away. His refusal to look you in the eye, however, only gives you a better view of his bright red ears and cheeks, betraying exactly how he feels about the attention he just received.

“Oh? Well, I guess if you didn’t like that, I shouldn’t do it ever again. I admittedly still don’t know much about what kind of behavior is accepted in Lemuria. And I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything,” you say, pretending to get up from his lap.

He catches your wrist and gently pulls you back down, giving you that signature head tilt and grin when he reassures you.

“Aw, well, I get it. You are still pretty new to this Lemurian thing. Besides, it wasn’t too horrible,” he says, his hair falling in front of his eyes. He swipes it away nonchalantly, continuing, “I could maybe suffer through such treatment once or twice a month. Or a week. Or even once a day if you really felt the strong desire to. You humans and your customs are weird, but I can be a good sport about some of them.”

“No, no, there’s no need,” you continue to tease, pretending to stand once again, “I really should be more mindful when it comes to these kinds of things.”

“No, I insist. As a matter of fact…” he says, catching your wrist again and tugging you back down to sit in his lap, simultaneously managing to wrap his arms around you to prevent you from getting up again, “...dontcha think it’s my turn to give this newfound custom a try?”

+:★:+* *+:★:+* +:★:+━━━+:★:+━━━+:★:+* *+:★+:★:+* *+:★

Sylus

When you arrive at the N109 Zone, it’s almost noon. Therefore you aren’t surprised that Sylus is still in his room, is still asleep, and is not quite ready to compromise that sleep for anyone or anything.

You know that technically doesn’t include you, but you don’t want to ruin his rest, so you leave him be for now. Instead, you decide to check out some more rooms in this grand house.

Your visits to the N109 zone have been much more frequent, despite this past week apart. But before this last week, you had come and gone with a frequency that Sylus had finally seemed pleased with.

In that time, you had familiarized yourself with many of the rooms of this mansion already. That being said, you could almost swear that Sylus brought in something new every single day, so there’s always something new to discover on your visits.

And now you find yourself faltering before a suit of armor you hadn’t noticed before. It must have been pure white at one time, but now has gone dark from wear, age, and transportation. The armor wasn’t made for someone of Sylus’s size, and you wonder what about it made him want to add it to his collection. You try to resonate with it to get something off of it, but nothing really happens.

Soon, however, you grow tired of the silent house and the suit of armor. You figure that a small nap never hurt anyone. Besides, it feels like you haven’t seen Sylus in ages, even though it’s only been a week. A long, tedious week of Wanderers and stuck up clients who you sometimes thought about leaving to fend off the Wanderers themselves.

Slipping into his bedroom, his bedside lamp is on. The dim light casts strange shadows around the room, but softly illuminates the man on the bed.

Walking around the bed, you crawl onto the mattress and begin to make yourself comfy, trying to do it slowly so you don’t disturb he who breathes deeply beside you. Once settled, you roll over to face him.

His normally strong features look so soft in this lighting, and his brow is furrowed slightly in his sleep, his expression one of a man concerned. Your heart aches a little as you realize just how much you’ve missed him this week despite trying to convince yourself you were better off without his incessant teasing. Reaching out, you mean to brush your fingertips over his cheekbones, but you suddenly hesitate before touching him. He sleeps so lightly sometimes and you don’t want to be the reason he can’t fall back to sleep.

But it’s already too late.

That frown of concern shifts into confusion as his eyes open—the color as bright and striking as ever—then relief when he sees you, sleepily taking your hand in his own and intertwining your fingers. Rolling onto his side, he smiles faintly at the sight of you tucked in beside him.

“I’m not dreaming, am I, sweetie?” he murmurs, his already deep voice even deeper with sleep, “It’s been 8 days and a few hours since I saw you last.”

“You keep count?” you tease as he brings your wrist to his lips.

“Maybe I do,” he says with a huff and a shrug, his still-heavy eyelids closing again. You know he isn’t asleep, however, by the sound of his annoyed grunt when you try to slip your hand out of his grasp, “Leaving already?”

“No, I just want to get more comfortable.”

His eyes still closed, he allows you to take your hand back. You start to settle in beside him, but thinking about how lovely and worried he’d looked when you first came in, you suddenly have an idea to hopefully help soothe whatever dreams he’d been having.

His brow furrows again when you take his face in-between your hands, but a smug little smile is quick to replace it as you place feather-light little kisses against every inch of his face.

He sinks deeper into the mattress as you do, his entire body relaxing as you surge with gratitude for the fact that he shares this vulnerable side with you and only you. By the time you finish, his smug smile has faded softly as he dozes off and on again.

“Hmm? Is that all?” he hums. Rolling your eyes, you chuckle, sliding back into the blankets, grabbing his arm and drawing it around you as well. Nuzzling his nose against the back of your neck, he murmurs with a voice as smooth as velvet, “Thank you, sweetie. It’s been a hell of a week and I needed that.”

“Don’t be silly,” you murmur, “Now go back to sleep, Sylus.”

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

Part 1: Xavier and Zayne Edition

A Short Little Tag List! 💕 (I hope you enjoy :))

@lemurianmaster @myeagleexpert

[hellsamethyst]

thats what im saying!!

I think Sylus and MC took the word soulmates literally 🧍

I'm talking about the ending of his limited myth pairs, girlies

[jjands]

Sylus drops by at your workplace and outside your doorstep unannounced but asks for permission to visit his crow at your place

[glitch-but-ya]

Remember me.

Pairing: Sylus x Reader

Tags: Angst, angst, angst, with no comfort, established relationship, pet names like 'sweetie' and 'kitten', descriptions of blood, gore, and death.

Summary: Sylus could not fathom the feeling of everything slipping from his fingers. He couldn’t comprehend how he had lost control so easily. He watched you take a devastating blow from a wanderer, helpless to reach you in time. His world crumbled before his eyes as you fell. In that moment, Sylus realized he had less control over fate than he had ever imagined. Though you had awoken from your injuries, the relief would not last, for he would soon be dragged back into a spiral of helplessness once more.

Word count: 2,281 words.

A/N: Feeling angsty lately hehehe

"And even in my dying breath, my only thoughts will be of you."

The blood wouldn't stop. It gushed out of the gigantic wound in your stomach ceaselessly, erupting with remarkable fervor. The blood continued to flow, slipping between Sylus's fingers as his hands latched onto your stomach in an attempt to stop the bleeding. But it didn't work. Nothing did. And for the first time in his life, Sylus felt helpless.

He clenched his jaw, his teeth gritting. "Don't you dare die on me." You responded with a kind smile. Your hand reached out to caress the side of his face. "I won't make it, Sylus." You croaked out weakly. "Don't try to save a dying person."

He shook his head and curled his fists. "Don't speak nonsense. I'm not in the mood for jokes." And although his tone was harsh, his words held no bite. You knew that, of course. What part of him did you not know? Which part of him had you not learned by heart yet?

"Hold on to me," he said, guiding your hands to his neck. "I'll get us out of here, and you'll get better. I promise." "You won't die." he said firmly. You've never seen him so serious. Not with you, at least.

Sylus carried you back to his car. His arms supported your back as you hung limply from his neck. You used your last remaining strength to pry your eyes open and gaze back at the protofield. You hadn't yet processed how a normal mission could turn into an event that'd end up claiming your life. You were prepared for this, you told yourself. This is the unfair life a hunter must live. This is the sacrifice you must make for the sake of others. But now, being on the verge of death, you couldn't help but wish to live.

Your gaze drew back to Sylus. You observed his furrowed eyebrows, his sorrowful frown, and the panic etched across his face. You couldn't help but be grateful for him. To have a man like him was a blessing. He was kind to you. When you needed him, he was there. He had cradled you through the harshest nights and been by your side through happiness and sorrow. He was there, always. Even now, in death, he was by your side. It was by miracle that he happened to be in the same place, close enough to you to respond to your plea for help immediately.

You couldn't help but feel thankful for him. To have someone like him in your life was a blessing only you were lucky enough to receive. After his arrival, you had something to live for. Someone cared about you, someone worth living for. And, admittedly, you didn't want to let this privilege go. You loved him, and you knew for sure that he reciprocated. You wanted to be selfish. For once, you wanted to live.

"Sylus..." you wheezed. His gaze immediately shifted. His eyes locked onto yours, slightly narrowing in displeasure at your weak countenance. "Save your breath. No need to say anything." he looked away, almost as if he couldn't bear to see you in such a sorry state anymore.

You simpered at him lovingly. "Thank you," was all you said. Sylus did not respond for a while, his only response being a slight falter in his speed. "Don't get sentimental now," he looked away. But you could catch a glimpse of the slight tremble of his lips. It was the first time you'd seen him so vulnerable, almost on the verge of tears. And even now, he tried to be strong. He tried to conceal his sorrow, even though he knew he didn't need to. Not around you. And yet, he was so adamant on being your devout protector, he’d forgotten that he was allowed to feel. You wanted to press your lips against his, to hug him in your arms and tell him that he could stop now. That he didn't have to make such sacrifices for your sake, that he was allowed to cry if he wanted to.

But alas, your strength began to fail you. And slowly, you began to fade into a deep slumber, lulled by the warmth of his body pressing against yours. You could hear Sylus's voice calling out to you, begging you to stay with him. But you couldn't. A gentle breeze blew you away easily as if you were but a tiny fairy floating about freely in the land of purgatory. Your eyes fluttered shut, only eliciting more panicked noises from him. But they were all drowned by the welcoming darkness. And so, your eyes closed, but not for the last time.

It wouldn't be long before you'd realize that you'd survived. When you awoke, it was atop a familiar mattress as hard as stone. It was clear that someone had tucked you in gingerly, layering multiple soft blankets beneath you in a flimsy attempt at cushioning you. Despite Sylus's efforts, the rigidity and firmness of the mattress pressed against your back painfully, leaving you with a sore back. Even with the lack of effectiveness in his approach, you found Sylus's attempt oddly endearing. You giggled internally, picturing a worried Sylus hurriedly skittering about and fussing over your makeshift bed.

Your carefreeness was cut off the moment you opened your mouth to speak. You felt a lump in your throat that felt as if it bobbled each time you gulped. On top of that, your throat was dry, and your voice low and hoarse. You quickly realized that you had not the strength to even lift your arm off the bed, let alone get up and call for help. You didn't know where Sylus was. All you could do was wait until he showed up eventually, which didn't take long.

"Sweetie," his pupils contracted subtly. You couldn't tell if it was a response brought about by relief or shock, or both. Were you not supposed to wake up so soon?

Dropping the towels by your bed, Sylus fixed his composure and rushed to your side, taking your arm in his. "How are you feeling?" "Horrible." you croaked out with a small laugh. "I feel like I'm gonna die," you said, but the joke didn't seem to sit right with Sylus, on whose forehead a crinkle had formed. He made it very clear that he did not find it funny.

Changing the topic, you let out a hum. "How long has it been?" "A week." You nearly choked on your own spit, but said nothing in response. You didn't have the energy to. Sylus caressed your hand thoroughly, his eyes slightly narrowing as he felt your skin. But you couldn't tell why. "We didn't know if you were going to, well... do you remember what happened?" You placed your finger on your lip, humming in thought, before nodding weakly. "You got discharged yesterday. I guess you're really taking a turn for the better, huh?" And yet, as he spoke, he did not smile. He only inspected your hand further, running his fingers over the bumps of your knuckles, and tenderly tracing the skin of your palm. "...Did you always have cold hands, sweetie?"

You only responded by pointing to the jug of water on the large, ebony nightstand. Following your request, Sylus grabs the jug and pours you a glass of water. "Here, I'll help you." he helps you sit up and brings the glass to your lips. Only for you to begin choking on the water as you drank. Sylus patted your back reassuringly. "You've been quite... breathless, haven't you? Your breathing is faster, and so is your heart rate." He placed his hand on his chin and thought. "Your face is pale, your hands are cold. And—are you listening?"

You stared at him before flashing him with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, can you repeat?" He let out a sigh. "I'm calling a doctor over. You're displaying abnormal symptoms." Your hands began to tremble uncontrollably as you passed him the glass. "Doctor? I feel fine." You waved your hand dismissively. "You're overreacting. I woke up, didn't I? It means I'm getting better." Sylus shook his head. "Right. And that also means it's time for a checkup. Don't resist, sweetie. You're not escaping this one." Although he tried to mask it, you could sense an underlying fear in his tone. You didn't know why. You truly did feel fine.

"He'll be here in a few hours. The snowfall's heavy tonight. It'll take a while." He pulled the covers over you and nuzzled your face. "Until then, rest." With that, he left the room.

A few hours had gone by, and your condition only worsened. Your skin grew colder, and your heart began to beat at a rapid rate. To add to Sylus's concern, your behavior and mental state began to worsen as well. When he'd ask you something, you'd stare at him for a good 30 seconds before smiling, "Sorry, could you repeat that?"

Eventually, your bandages began to bleed once more, and you felt as if you were rendered completely senile, like a sickly old man spending his last moments on his deathbed. You managed to squeeze out your dying voice to ask Sylus to change them. He gently propped you up, pulling off your shirt before carefully unwrapping the bandages around your chest.

"Sylus..." "Didn't I tell you to save your energy?" he scolded softly. "The doctor will be here in an hour." He pressed the back of his palm against your forehead. "Cold. Don't worry, I'll patch you up and tuck you back in." Suddenly, you grasped his hand weakly. He didn't have the heart nor intention to shake you off. "Thank you." Your gaze did not meet his.

Sylus tilted his head back and smirked lightly. "What, are we feeling affectionate now too?" It seemed as if he was trying to swallow the ache of his heart. You shook your head, your eyes glued to your lap. "I'm sorry. I'm so much trouble." Fresh tears began to slip from the corners of your eyes, only to be swept up by Sylus's hand before they could reach your chin. "I was weak. I know I've failed everyone."

"Sweetie..." his hand met your cheek, his thumb flicking off the crystalline beads rolling down your face. "I never saw you as a burden. The strength needed to withstand such a blow... your dodge was incredible, kitten." His other hand shot up to ruffle your hair. "Even I would have a hard time. You did well. I'm proud of you."

You let out a muffled sob. "Will you remember me, Sylus?" His gaze softened. He could reassure you that you wouldn't be leaving his side anytime soon and that there was no reason for him to have to remember you, but he knew that wasn't what you wanted to hear. "You're quite hard to forget, if I'm being honest. Even if we are worlds apart, you will linger in my memories eternally, shining like the most priceless gem not even the God of wealth could lay their eyes on." He gazed upon your face, taking in the sight of your drooping eyelids, inflamed nose, chapped lips, and pale visage with a wince. "We are bound by much more than a simple promise. What we have will never be replaced." His eyes met yours. "I could never forget you, even if I wanted to."

Your shoulders slackened almost as if you'd let go, your soul finally able to rest now that you'd heard him say it with his own lips. "I love you, Sylus," you confirmed. He traced his thumb over your bottom lip. "I love you too." Sylus slipped the shirt back onto your body and pushed you into the covers. "Sleep," he said, picking up the clutter. Before he left, he turned to you and looked at you one last time. "When you're better, I'll take you to a meadow for a nice picnic under the warm sun." His gaze trembled, and he swallowed the melancholy beginning to invade his voice. "I know a place. A vast field of anemones and other flowers. The breeze there is cool and constant. It's a place humanity is yet to reach, untainted by the spoils of mankind." He approached you, slipping his fingers in between your own. "When you're better, I'll take you there." He flashed you the warmest smile he could muster, even in his state of despair.

His heart nearly broke as you so innocently smiled back at him. "I see. Thank you, Sylus. It sounds nice indeed." You brought his hand to your face and nuzzled against it. "May we cross the fields together one day."

"Go now. I'm sleepy." You began pushing him away, ushering him out of your bed. Once he was a good distance away, you sank into your bedsheets and turned your back on him. "Goodnight, Sylus. I love you." And so, you went to sleep.

You did not wake up the next day. So he waited. Although Sylus knew you wouldn't last the moment you'd displayed the symptoms. He'd seen death; he'd known it half his life. He could tell when a man was about to die from a distance. And yet, with you, he couldn't bring himself to accept it.

And so, he waited again. For you to wake up. For you to return to him once more. He would wait until the heat death of the universe, if he must, just to reunite with you, his beloved, his lover. He couldn't stop the tears from flowing. He'd lost you again. And this time, it was his beloved who was gone.

[diaferia-dhades]

Jealousy II.V - Queen of Onychinus

Sylus x MC (smut, MDNI)

Warning: SMUT MDNI, MC's robe is a paid actor. p in v, oral (female receiving, overstimulation, size kink, breeding (if you squint real hard)

Word Count:1645, no proofreading

Preview: Took place after Jealousy II, NSFW

@dawnbreaker-owl @aurell009 @tinyweebsstuff (If you wish to be untagged in future works, please let me know)

On the way home, Sylus had his hand run along my left thighs. He hooked under my knee then ran his fingers up closer toward my heat then back down, as if to tease me.

Once we reached home, Sylus went over to my side and opened the door. He leaned in and kissed me, "I'm sorry, but I ask you to wait for me for a little bit. I have something to deal with. Then you'll have me for the rest of the night."

I run my hand from his chin, down to his Adam's apple and slide down onto his waist. "If you keep me waiting for too long, I will be taking care of myself and lock you out."

Sylus chuckled, "Yes, sweetie."

I took my sweet time in the bathroom. I put on a perfume that Sylus loves so much. Then I guided the thigh jewelry onto my thighs. It looks very beautiful and long. It went from my high thigh to near my knee. The chains looped around my thigh, with black and red diamonds on the chains. Some chains dangle, containing rubies. It sparkled brightly under the light.

Sylus told me to wear only that piece of jewelry. Even though he had seen me naked many times, I still felt self-conscious. So I threw on a red silk robe over me but left it untied.

I grabbed a glass and poured some wine. I stood over the large window, looking down on the city, waiting for Sylus. I knew Sylus went to deal with the so-called Mr. Mucker. I smiled to myself as I took a sip of my wine and placed it on the coffee table. It's rare to see Sylus jealous. I honestly would love to see his jealous face again.

I didn't wait long when I felt a pair of arms around me. I felt a lip on my neck, kissing down onto my shoulder.

"You're wearing that perfume." Sylus runs his nose along my neck as his hands roam on my body.

I hummed in response. "I thought you liked this one."

"I do. It smells so divine." Sylus turned me around and kissed me deeply, his tongue roamed my mouth. I held his head close, refusing to break off the kiss, even when I felt my lip sore from the biting. Sylus slowly kissed my jaw, and slid down to my neck, my collarbone.

"God, you're divine." Sylus groaned. He leaned down to kiss me again but I covered his mouth.

"My lovely husband," I pushed him lightly. "You made me wait for so long." I pushed him again on the chest and he staggered back. "A horrible husband, really." I pushed him again and he staggered further back until his legs hit the edge of the bed. "Left their wife alone for so long." I pushed him one last time and he fell onto the bed.

I climbed on top of him. My robe slid off one of my shoulders. Sylus' hand danced on my thighs, gently rubbing on my thighs and along the jewelry. "Sweetie, you know I had business to do. I ran here as fast as I could. You surely don't want to wake up in a cold bed, now do you?"

I gently took his chin, "You sure know how to talk. Open your mouth."

Without telling twice, Sylus opened his mouth. "Good boy," I said before devouring his mouth.

His hand went between my legs. I grabbed them and broke off the kiss. I smiled at him wickedly, "Since you're such a smooth talker..." His ruby eyes looked at me with anticipation. I climbed up toward him until my knees were on each side of his head. "We should put your mouth to good use."

Sylus grabbed my hip, trying to push me further down to taste me. I slapped his hand away. "Mouth only, dear~"

Sylus groaned, "You're killing me, sweetie."

I spread my legs, sliding further down until my heat was hovering just above his lips. "Less talking, more doing."

Then I pressed my heat against his mouth. He opened his mouth and immediately went to work.

His tongue went into my heat, tasting me. His mouth closed around my clit, sucking me. I went from moaning to gasping. Sylus was groaning, and I shook from the vibration. I gripped onto the bedsheet for support. I felt pleasure building up and I came undone onto Sylus' mouth. I moaned loudly as Sylus groaned.

Sylus kissed my heat a few times before I got off his lips. I moved down to his hip. I unbuckled his belt and slid his pants off just enough that I could see his length in his boxers. I slid my hand under the hem of his boxers and took his length out. It was wet from the precum. I smeared the precum around the tip before sliding down onto him.

I gasped while Sylus groaned from the sensation. I slowly, inch by inch, slid down his length. I watched as my heat slowly swallowed his length until I was at the hilt. Even though we have done it many times, he is still so big. As I allowed my body to adjust, I unbuttoned his clothes and ran my hands along his toned chest and abdomen. Then my hands stopped on his abs and started moving.

As I bounced on him, the clinking sound from the jewelry could be heard. Sylus had one hand on my thigh jewelry and the other on my hip.

Sylus smirked, "Is this supposed to make me feel good, sweetie?" He grabbed onto my hip. "If you really want to feel good, you should slide all the way out." Then he slammed my hip down, knocking my breath away and he groaned loudly. "And all the way in."

His hand pushed my hip up until I was just at the tip. Before he could push me down again, I grabbed his hand and glared at him seductively. "I'm pretty sure I'm the one who is in control here."

Sylus smirked, "Oh really?"

Before I know it, I'm on my back and Sylus is now on top of me. He slammed into me and I moaned loudly. He chuckled, "Now, who's in control?"

I pushed onto his chest, thinking I could overflip a man who was a lot bigger and heavier than me. He used one hand to grab my hands and push them above my head. His other hand is hooked under my knee. He pushed my knee further up and he slid out until it was just the tip inside before ramming into me again. I gasped from the new angle. He rammed into me with a speed that I couldn't catch up. I was screaming at that point.

"Sweetie, if you continue to be that loud, Luke and Kieran will hear you."

I gritted my teeth, "T-then s-slow down."

"I can't do that." He chuckled. "I have a wife to please."

The room is filled with my moans and screams, the filthy sounds our body makes while we are joined, and Sylus' grunts. A clinking sound from the jewelry can be heard but is completely drowned by my screams.

"Oh sweetie, I can feel you tightening around me."

I gasped. My throat is sore from screaming.

"Come with me," He didn't need to tell me twice. I opened my mouth in a silent scream as I came undone with him following closely behind.

My legs were quivering. My body was shaking.

"Look at you," he smirked. "You're body is responding so well. I hope you have enough energy for more, sweetie."

Sylus let go of my hand and placed both hands on my hip, lifting my hip slightly off the bed. Then he rammed into me again. I opened my mouth to scream, but it never came. With the new angle, he is constantly hitting the sweet spot. I looked down to where we were connected. I can see a small bump whenever Sylus pounds into me. I grabbed onto his arm, trying to anchor myself. I rolled my eyes back when I came undone again.

"Oh, you came already? Who said you can come?" Sylus smirked, "Now, can I get you to come undone again before I make another mess in you?"

I shook my head, "I c-c-can't."

"Oh, I'm sure you can. I'll make sure of it."

I couldn't scream, I couldn't talk, I couldn't think. I was a moaning mess. My legs were shaking violently from the overstimulation. I tried to close my legs, but with the position we were in and Sylus' large hips, it was impossible to close them.

I arched my back as I felt my body come undone again.

"There you go, sweetie." Sylus groaned. It didn't take long for him to finish inside of me again.

My body flopped onto the mattress, completely deprived of energy. Sylus continued to slowly rock into me, trying to push all his seeds inside of me, preventing any drop from going to waste.

Sylus leaned in and gently kissed my lips, "How are you feeling?"

"Sore already," I croaked.

Sylus softly chuckled, "Stay in bed. I'll take care of you."

I nodded. He used his evol to grab a towel from the bathroom and he slowly pulled out of me. He used the towel and placed it under me. "Stay here for me, sweetie."

I tiredly nodded. He pecked me on the forehead and headed toward the bathroom. Then he came back with a warm towel and my panty. He gently cleaned me before putting the panty on. Then he pulled the robe over my body and tied it. He gently pulled me under the blanket.

"Go sleep, sweetie. I'll be here when you wake up." I closed my eyes and I felt his gentle kiss on my cheek before I drifted off to sleep.

Now, should I do another smut one for their one-week oolalas in Tantrum?

[zennyshoneybunch]

Lovely art!

Santa Baby Just slip your black cards Under the tree - for me Been your awful good girl Santa Baby So hurry down the chimney tonight~

Have you been a good little kitten this year? Art by Kirakanjo

[catbolt]

— FLORIDA KILOS

[SOUNDTRACK] Florida Kilos - Lana Del Rey || ▶︎

Business trips with Sylus are atypical.

[TAGS] sylus x female mc, angsty fluff?, smut, canonical sylus but he also sells drugs

[A/N] written very topically in key west cause my vacation would have been sm better with sylus (i need to touch grass)

[WC] 1.2k

songfic 2/?

They touch down in the late afternoon, the sun barreling down over the horizon dramatically like a ball of hellfire, sending ricocheting red tongues of flame out over a turquoise ocean. She feels the ground rumble as the wheels kiss the pavement, Sylus’ strong hand wrapping around her waist to secure her as they roll to a stop. 

They step out into the Florida sunset, deplaning onto his private hangar. His arm remains around her waist the entire while, the only sound other than the whirring plane engines being the clank of his rings against each other as he hoists their bags over his shoulder. They descend onto the tarmac. She looks up at him, his face inscrutable behind a pair of dark sunglasses. 

She doesn’t get Sylus, not really. Every time she thinks she does, he does something so unexpected that she has to rework her entire understanding of him. Like when he takes extended time to pet the stray cat outside the hotel, or makes casual conversation with the bellhop with a broad and genuine smile on his face. A smile that falls immediately the second the door falls shut behind them, and he proceeds to immediately check the entire room for bugs and arm himself with a gun from his luggage. 

Still a business trip, sweetheart, he murmurs softly as he sees her eyes trained on the way he tucks the pistol onto the stomach band holster beneath his t-shirt. Need to make sure I’m keeping you safe.

She knew about the protocores and weapons. What she didn’t fully grasp until now was that when Sylus once told her he had his hands in a lot of pies, he also meant drugs. That was why he'd taken her to Florida. She catches him on tense calls late at night, tapping into security feeds to scrutinize black cars carrying god knows what illicit substances and paraphernalia through back alleys, even rifling through miscellaneous vials and baggies that are shoved into a suitcase he tells her not to open. She ignores it for the most part. She’s learned to push down the moral ambivalence that stirs up whenever she thinks about what Sylus actually does for a living, the mix of guilt and confusion and frustration at her complete inability to reconcile two halves of the man she loves.

When they’re on the beach together, she just pretends they’re just a normal couple on vacation. She relaxes in the warm ocean, feeling Sylus’ eyes on her all the way from their cabana where he sits, preferring the shade. The corner of his mouth quirks into a barely-there smirk as she exits the water, taking in her swimsuit-clad form as he sips on a glass of dark rum. The second she’s close enough, she’s in his arms, his thumbs rubbing circles into the salt still lingering on her skin, his sun-flushed nose nuzzling into the place where her neck meets her jaw. He murmurs unintelligible nothings into her soft skin, more for himself than for her to hear.

He doesn’t tell her details of the business he's here on in an effort to keep work time separate as much as possible, though she can see it weighing on him each time he gets back to the hotel room after one of his “meetings." HIs face always look tired, but quickly softens into a gentler expression when he sees her, and he envelops her in his arms, peppering fluttering kisses over her face and neck. He deftly sidesteps the majority of her work-related questions to ask about her days instead. It’s not because he underestimates her– he’s just unshakably devoted to her protection, and the less she knows, the safer she is.

She doesn’t get him when he insists repeatedly that it’s just a business trip, but makes a continuous and purposeful effort to make sure she’s having a good time, that she’s enriched and well taken care of. The days he’s gone early in the morning, she wakes up to notes on the nightstand: Got you tickets to the museum, if you want to go today. Or I think you should visit the beach while I’m out. I’ve set up a driver to take you at noon. He insists on private charter planes, private drivers, private security, private beaches and excursions for her, ensuring she’s fully surveilled every second she’s out and about while he’s away.

Only when he’s back at the hotel with her does he ease up a bit, dismissing security detail for the night, taking her out on the town holding her hand tightly all the while. He buys her all the mai tais and mojitos she asks for, walking her home with a protective hand on her as she stumbles giggly through the streets, hands toying in the strings of her bikini beneath her cover-up.

When he lays her on the bed, French balcony doors blown open haphazardly by the wind, the sound of the waves battering softly against the shore and the chirp of cicadas are the only sounds other than their breathing. He removes each piece of her clothing slowly, tantalizingly, not with the intention to tease (though that is inevitably the resulting effect) but more because he simply cherishes each millisecond he spends uncovering another sliver of her body, each inch of her he reveals sending a shiver through him like he's discovering a secret. He worships her with slow wet kisses, his hands following close behind everywhere his lips have touched, soothing the skin that blooms purple and red with gentle caresses. He grips her hips softly when he enters her, exhaling a deep and heavy sigh, rocking back and forth achingly slowly with his eyes closed in bliss. He holds her securely in his arms with one hand on the small of her back and the other behind her neck, fingers pressing into her skin, each fingertip of pressure sending hot spears of desire deep into her body.

She doesn’t quite understand the loving things he whispers into her ears in times like this. She doesn’t get where it comes from, the rare, delicate softness in his words so strikingly absent from the way he talks to anyone else— so beautiful for me, my dove, I worship you, my gorgeous girl…

Afterwards, he stands on the balcony, cigarette clamped between his lips as he stares out over the ocean, hair damp from the shower and towel slung low over his hips. He swirls a glass of whisky in his other hand, tendrils of smoke clawing their way into the tepid night air through his teeth. Faint music from the nearby bars mingles with the sound of gentle waves upon the shore, so soft it sounds almost like ripples, like rain.

When he’s in his head like this she knows better than to ask him what he’s thinking. Instead, she just comes up behind him, standing not too close or too far, resting her elbows on the banister. They both watch the starlight freckle the surface of the ocean outside. 

I love you, Sylus mumbles. It’s what he always says when he doesn’t know what else to. The utterance is so quiet it’s nearly drowned out by the sound of the water, but she catches it, just barely.

I love you too.

[tiffyelefano]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍

July 2024

•••

This piece was inspired by Renaissance paintings and Adam and Eve with the snake in the Garden of Eden. especially with Caleb’s motif being an apple, it just made sense haha

[syluss-littlecrow]

size training with sylus

<slyus x fem!reader>

where you’re size training on Sylus’s dick. ❤️

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, big dick!sylus, size training, size kink, dear god sylus and his fat cock, breeding kink, unprotected sex, pet names, dacryphilia, it’s just sylus brain rot ❤️

w/c: 2K

a/n: I’m on Love & Deepspace fic tumblr! 😮 hope I’ll be welcomed nicely here haha. As a peace offering, this is my present to everyone (and especially the Sylus girlies)!

You shift your body slightly, trying to make yourself comfortable, on top of taking slow breaths, your heart fluttering at Sylus's soft voice coaxing you. 

"That's it. Take it slowly, kitten", his voice slow and deep in your ears. But you don't see the way he's shutting his eyes and biting his inner cheek every time you squeeze around him. He's trying to pace his breathing as well, but it feels so fucking good.

You whine softly against his bare chest, his heat radiating off you, his slender fingers stroking your hair slowly, and his other hand drawing soothing circles on your thighs. 

You don’t remember how it started, but your thoughts start to drift, recalling the times your mind would float whenever Sylus had his lips on yours with you straddling on his thick thighs. He would devour you, painfully slowly because he knows that’s what riles you up, and he definitely enjoys listening to your whimpers, your non-verbal pleas for him to do more to you. He’d make sure your lips are wet and messy once he’s done with you, his touches teasing and light against your skin. Sylus secretly wants you to beg for it, because he knows that he’d give in to you in a heartbeat. His fingers would cup yours that were on his chest, and the look he would give you reset all the butterflies in your stomach. You would feel his thick erection, hidden under the thin silk black bathrobe he’d always wear against your clothed pussy, and dear god, he’s so fucking big. But before you could ask, Sylus would trail his fingers to tease your wet clit and pussy, soaking in your adorable reactions he swears is enough to get him off, erasing the question of wanting him to fuck you off your brain when the pleasure from his fingers tingles through your body. 

Sylus doesn’t pride himself as a generous being, but he thinks he’s always generous enough for you. He realises he enjoys having his face in between your legs, making you squirm, listening to you sob when he overstimulates you with his tongue, making sure his tongue presses and grazes fully on your clit while he listens to you fall apart, his crimson eyes locked onto you while he holds you down to take whatever he’s giving you. 

He’s good at distracting you like that whenever you want to bring up the question of fucking. 

This time though? Through your wet lashes from the overstimulation and hazy thoughts, all you were craving for was just to be fucked stupid by Sylus. Your hand reached out and pushed against his head. Sylus pulled back slightly, confused for a moment. 

“What is it, sweetie?” He paused, his hands trailing up and down your thighs. 

Your mind slowly clears, but your pussy is still pulsing from him tongue fucking you.

“Need you to fuck me, Sylus. Please. I don’t think I can take it any longer.”

Sylus is momentarily taken aback by your demand, but he realises he can’t keep holding it off, mostly because there’s only so much longer he’s able to hold back, especially when you’re begging for him like that. 

“I don’t think-“

“I can take it”, you muttered stubbornly, yanking your partner towards you. You shift yourself above him, straddling his thighs, just shy of his appendage. 

As much as your determination is endearing, Sylus knows your comfort should come first. And he knows very well that his cock isn’t gonna fit into you in one go, so he decides to let you gauge it for yourself—putting your hands into the string of his robe, gesturing you to loosen it. 

And you do, your gaze flickering from his cool expression to his silk robe sliding off his body when you untie the string. 

You swallow hard when his cock comes into view—thick, long and heavy, the tip red with a wet sheen of precum. Yeah, that’s definitely not gonna fit in you in one go. You and him solely being just wet enough wasn’t going to cut it. 

Nonetheless, you’re still determined. Your eyes meet his gaze and an idea pops into his head. 

He intertwines his fingers with yours.

“Tell you what, sweetie. I’ll fit into you slowly. Doesn’t matter how much you can take, I just want to make sure you’re comfortable when you’re doing so.”

“But-“

He presses his lips on the back of your hand. 

“I’ll be fine. You trust me, right?”

You nod, watching the way his eyes soften before you. 

So there you are, lying on your side, facing Sylus, your cunt trying to adjust to his cock as he stretches you open. It’s been a couple of days since you’ve been size training with your partner. It started off with getting his cockhead in, and that was already making you hitch your breath. Then inch by inch he sinks into you from then. He’d let you cock warm him like that and it never failed to leave you so full one session after the next. 

It’d been seven days, and you barely pushed through three-quarters of his girth. Initially, Sylus still could tease you while you tried to take his cock, but as he sunk deeper into you after each session, it started getting harder for him to maintain his composure—every twitch, every squeeze—had him digging his fingers into his palm, clenching against his silk pillow and breathing a little harder. 

He huffs once more when he feels you clench around his cock. 

“If you’re gonna keep clenching around me like that, Kitten, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.”

You glance up, watching the way Sylus’s platinum hair becoming a tousled mess against the pillow. His crimson eyes cast to meet yours, his lips pulled into a slight frown. 

“I can’t help it”, you reply, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

You hear Sylus hiss slightly once more when he twitches inside you. 

“Do you think you could fit another inch in?” It almost comes off as a beg. 

You inhale shakily, shifting yourself further downwards, taking another inch of his cock. The both of you gasp at the sensation. 

You freeze at the thickness. How far down are you already?

“You’re almost all the way in, Kitten”, Sylus whispers, almost as if he heard your thoughts. His breathing is growing heavier by the second, and he’s forcing himself to hold back from just thrusting the remainder of his cock in. It’s dangling over him like his favourite prey. 

His thumb strokes against yours, trying to distract you from the pressure on top of pressing your forehead with kisses, singing you soft praises.

Your mind is gradually turning more hazy with Sylus’s cock taking up the majority of your thoughts, on top of his body soap that’s been creeping into your olfactory senses. The more Sylus inches his cock into you, the more he’s pressing onto your g-spot, and the more it’s starting to make you see stars whenever you blink. You’re growing so sensitive that you’re feeling every throb Sylus’s cock is giving you. 

Your hand is on his arm, trying to ground yourself from the slight soreness. Another strained whimper when Sylus pushes him deeper into your pussy. Slick leaks from your pussy and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Sylus. 

Another kiss to your temple, another circle drawing session on your thigh.

“Do you want me to go all the way in?” 

Your toes curl.

“I can take it.”

So Sylus inches his cock right to the hilt, knocking the wind out of you. 

Tears are prickling at the corner of your eyes, but oh god you do feel so good. 

“How are you feeling, sweetie?”

You hiccup softly. “So full.”

He chuckles. “Such a good girl.” The vibrations of his light laughter only press his tip further onto your g-spot, and it’s making your thighs shake from the impending orgasm. 

“D-don’t move so much, Sylus. You’re gonna make me—“ you try to bury your head into his chest but he stops you with his fingers in your chin. 

“Make you what?” 

He intentionally shifts, and his cockhead hits your sensitive spots again, sending fireworks into your eyelids, and a strained moan. Sylus seems to enjoy your reactions, because then he flips you to your back, his large frame looming over you, forcing you to look up at him with your legs folded, and still with his cock in you. 

Oh no. 

Sylus looks down at you with the faintest glint of softness in his eyes before it completely disappears, now just hunger seeping through the red. 

“Sylus!-“ you gasp, his fullness penetrating into you again, this time easily, considering the wet and sopping mess you’ve made around his cock. 

He only hums in reply, then pulling out slightly before he pushes into you again. He’s found your sweet spots, and he’s not letting it go that easily. 

The knot in your stomach pulls tight, and it’s making you tear up in sheer pleasure. You’re barely able to meet Sylus’s eyes, not when he’s fucking into you and has your head thrown back while you’re fighting to keep your eyelids open. 

It builds and builds. Sylus probably realises it from how much you’re just pulsing on his cock. His thumb rests at the corner of your lips and you let him slip in, your glazed out eyes meeting his. It makes his heart flutter when you’re completely undone like this for him, but he’ll never admit it, at least, not yet. 

“Gonna cum. Fuck, it’s so much, Sylus-“ you whimper before your mind completely melts away. 

“Release all you want on me, sweetie. That’s my good girl.”

That’s enough to send you over the edge—your orgasm hitting you like waves, tingling through your body like electricity, the pleasure eating you up over and over again. Sylus watches affectionately while you fall apart on his cock—the way you’re writhing and squirming, the way his name leaves your lips after every moan, the way your pussy creams so much on his cock. He thinks he’s doomed because he never gonna get enough. 

“Looks like a little kitten made a mess”, Sylus teases. He watches the way cream pools at the base of his cock when he pulls out slightly, only to thrust back into you again. His eyes flutter shut at the tight warmth eating him up, groans replacing his words. 

“Now, can I make a mess in you?” 

Your watery eyes meet his, and he’s equally about to lose all composure. You cup his cheeks, taking him by surprise, before giving him a quick peck on the corner of his lips, and then you nod. Said corner of his lips lift in satisfaction at your approval.

He’s just ready to ruin you. 

His strokes become more heavy, the overstimulation shutting your brain off. Nothing but pleasure is surging through your nerves now. You’re even holding up your legs so Sylus can fuck you deeper. 

“Now be a good girl and take all of it”, he mutters huskily, burying his face against the crook of your neck, his eyes snapped shut and his eyebrows furrowed. 

Despite the fact that you don’t get to see the way Sylus’s face contorts in pleasure when his orgasm hits him, his groans right in your ears serve you satisfied for now while thick white spurts into your abused pussy, filling you up all the way, some seeping past your plugged hole. 

You don’t realise how much you’ve clawed down Sylus’s back while he was emptying himself into you. 

Well, he doesn’t need to know anyway. 

Sylus stays above you for a moment, the both of you catching your breaths. He still has the energy to plant more bites on your neck while you stroke his hair. 

He pulls back to look at your face properly, and all you can think of is how fucking good he looks post-fuck—messy, sweaty, and so fucking delicious-looking. His fingers brush away your strands of hair, and his thumb caresses your bottom lip. 

“You’re truly gonna be the death of me, sweetie.”