#sylus modern au

[comatosebunny09]

merry christmas, mr. sylus

— summary: the one where you nearly tear your hair out, trying to find the perfect christmas gift for your office crush. — cw: fluff, romance, jealousy, feelings of inadequacy, reader is not mc, ceo au, modern au, aged-up characters, mutual pining — notes: part 2 here — now playing: merry christmas mr. lawrence - utada

What do you get a man who has everything? Who can buy anything at the drop of a hat? 

Nothing. The answer is nothing. And the realization, as it slowly descends onto your shoulders, is really starting to piss you off.

You blow some hair from your face for the umpteenth time since you’ve started this little adventure. Throw yourself against the bench in the midst of the mall’s second floor, peering up at the ceiling as if it can solve all your problems.

Your wares, bags of varying colors, sizes, and materials, sit off to the side. It’s an impressive haul—gifts for coworkers, family, and friends. But nothing buried beneath the sparkly tissue paper of said bags is for him. 

At least, not yet.

You lean back in a defeated slouch, arms crossed over your chest. Puffing your cheeks out, you exhale all slow and dramatic, watching the lights adorning the Christmas tree in the mall’s epicenter twinkle like bokeh. Your lips twist into a pout. 

Mr. Sylus isn’t particularly picky, at least from what you’ve gleaned from working as his secretary the past year. You know how he likes his coffee: black. How he prefers your morning briefs: quick and concise. How he often falls asleep in his office, propped on an elbow on his desk, the usual furrow between his brows traded for something more serene as sunlight bleeds in, framing him like a halo–your cheeks warm at the memory. 

You bow forward with a sigh, your head held in your hands.

You know enough about your boss to appease him. To level with him. You just wished you knew him a little…better. Enough to make this gift-buying venture you’ve been on since 8 AM worthwhile.

You tried asking Luke and Kieran, his financial and technology advisors, for pointers. They’d worked with him longer than anyone else at Starlight Enterprises. Naturally, they knew him like the backs of their hands. But they spoke in riddles when you asked. Confused the hell out of you, speaking of challenging his authority to get to his heart and things of that nature. 

You didn’t know what the hell any of that meant. And even if you did, it’s not like you were out to steal his heart, though you someday hoped to.

As cordial as Mr. Sylus had been since you began working for him, you always felt like he kept you at arm’s length, even as the months under his tutelage eased by. He steeled himself against you, though your coworkers swore they’d never heard him so talkative. 

Sure, he occasionally greeted you with rare smiles and snickered at your terrible, cringe-inducing jokes. Entertained you with sporadic coffee runs and maybe went out of his way to chat you up before disappearing behind the heavy, oakwood door to his office. But you didn’t expect a man like him to fully open his chest cavity to you, no matter how disarming you were.

You were so desperate for the perfect present that you even perused through his contacts and reached out to someone who’d frequented his office more times than you could count. Ms. Hunter. She had a name, but you’d grown accustomed to addressing her as such, adopting the moniker from your boss.

Sylus always smiled so youthfully when she swung around your desk and walked into his office. Her presence alone seemed to shave 10 years off his life in a way you were envious of. You didn’t know the semantics of their relationship. Could never make out what they were saying, their voices distorted murmurs behind a closed door. As far as you were concerned, they were good friends. Or your delusions had convinced you of such, and you still secretly hoped you stood a chance with him.

But you couldn’t help how your stomach gnarled, and words stalled in your throat when, after each time she left, Mr. Sylus was particularly cheerful. Or as spirited as a man like him could be, his eyes shining with residual fondness as he requested you reschedule his meetings before he shacked up in his office again. 

You shake your head to dispel your thoughts. You’ve sunken into the abyss of self-deprecation again. Now’s not the time to pity yourself. 

The bottom line was that Ms. Hunter wasn’t much help, either; she was cryptic on the phone as she threw out generic options, seemingly disinterested. But you wouldn’t give up despite how unhelpful everyone around you was. Mr. Sylus deserved something—anything to show how grateful you were to have been taken under his wing.

You sit up again, watching as families and couples mill about, swept up by the Christmas spirit. Briefly, you wonder if Mr. Sylus even celebrates Christmas. Your endeavor might've been for naught. He doesn’t strike you as the type to indulge in silly holiday traditions. He’s usually all business and stoned-faced when he isn’t entertaining your morbid jokes or his lady friend. But you’re persistent, having organized a holiday party on Christmas Eve at the office without his consent.

You told him after you already set your plans into motion. And he looked at you from the rim of his monitor with a quirked brow and a smirk canting one corner of his lips skyward. He sat back in an easy slouch, tapping the tips of his fingers together, seemingly mulling over your request.

“Do I even have a say in the matter?” he teased in that humored, attractive rasp. 

You stood before him, determined, a hand on your hip whilst the other clutched a set of Manila folders to your chest. “Not at all.”

Mr. Sylus scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He knew he was fighting a losing battle. 

You could be terribly insistent when you wanted to be. Most of the time, it got you into trouble in your previous professions. However, as you grew more accustomed to your boss, you found he coddled your fighting spirit. 

And with time, you also discovered it easier to manipulate him—at least to a certain degree. Your pout and guilt-tripping when he wouldn’t bend to your will, he could manage. But you barging into his office, insisting he eat, stretch, or simply take a load off? He could not contest that. 

Or he at least chose not to.

He threw his hands up in mock surrender, the amusement never leaving his face. “You drive a hard bargain. I won’t interfere. But don’t expect me to help you orchestrate this little soiree.”

You smiled triumphantly, peering down at your boss from the tip of your nose. “I don’t. I just expect you to be there with your cutest Christmas sweater, smiling and ready to party.”

He gave you a look. One that read, ‘I don’t do cute.’ And you stifled a laugh, imagining your stoic and trendy boss donning something other than a suit. He must’ve caught wind of what was going on in your head, lifting a brow at your mischievous cackle. 

He waved his hand dismissively. Cheek dimpled whilst he busied himself with some financial reports on his desk. You spun on your heel, skipping out of his office with all the eagerness of a child, set to finish your work for the evening. 

The earlier you finished, the more time you had for gift shopping and preparing for your holiday shindig.

Funnily enough, though your boss insisted he wouldn’t entertain your holiday antics, extra funds mysteriously appeared on the company card. 

Two days later, you find yourself a huffy, downtrodden mess, stewing in your inadequacy. 

You’ve scoured the city for the perfect gift over the past few days. Woke up early to travel out of town even, hoping to find something. Anything to make your boss all misty-eyed and appreciative. You’ve come up short; nothing seems to fit his vibe.

You’ve looked at watches, ties, cologne, and luxurious sweaters. Checked stores with prices that made your paycheck shudder. Nothing seems to resonate with him. To capture the essence of Mr. Sylus.

A glance at your smartwatch reveals it’s mid-afternoon. You deflate. Here you are, cities away from the investment firm, and you’ve nothing to show for your efforts. 

It’s Christmas Eve. Your day off. You should be using it to prepare for the party, but your coworkers assured you they’d handle the decorations while you ran your errands.

Still, you’re at least an hour away from your home. Traffic is a hellscape around this time of year. You need to get back quickly to wrap presents and gather yourself for the festivities. 

Resigned, you peel yourself from the bench, your bags weighted in either of your hands. You trudge across the mall’s upper level in search of the escalator. Maybe Mr. Sylus will forgive you for not having gotten him a gift. Anything you could think of getting, he could buy himself. He’s the CEO of the most notable investment company in the city. Surely, he wouldn’t bat an eye if you showed up to the party empty-handed.

Your head slung low, you’re about to descend on the escalator. However, something catches your attention in your periphery. You curiously meander towards a display window adorned with gaudy Alternative Christmas decorations. Something inside captures your interest, and a smile slowly crawls onto your lips. 

With a renewed tide of optimism washing over you, you wander into the store. 

Maybe fate is on your side today.

—

Your holiday soirée is fairly low-key. 

It’s littered with modest decorations. Christmas garlands adorn the walls and columns of the tenth floor, dripping from the ceiling. String lights twinkle overhead, tables donned with red and green tablecloths and poinsettia centerpieces.

The six-foot tall Christmas tree is the focal point, frocked with artificial snow and sparkling ethereally amid the dark grey walls of your office space. Sure, you had to strain on tippy-toe to put the star up. And maybe you still had a bit of the faux powder in your hair. But, with a glass of bubbly poised at your lips, you inwardly pat yourself on the back. You truly outdid yourself, breathing life into these otherwise drab walls.

A few of your coworkers along with some of the other department heads are in attendance, trading work talk and gossip. Even Ms. Hunter carved out some time—at your insistence—to come.

Over your time as his secretary, you’ve gathered that Mr. Sylus is a bit of an introvert. You didn’t want to overwhelm him with a crowd. He gets enough attention as it is, being amongst the country's youngest, most successful business moguls. He’s always under scrutiny, much to your dismay. He deserves to take a load off from time to time, which is why you were so adamant about throwing this party in the first place.

Speaking of the devil, you haven’t taken your eyes off him since he made his grand entrance. Always had him in sight, sneaking little glimpses of his figure as it cut a sharp, regal outline amid the humble decor. 

He looks amazing. Then again, when hasn’t he? With his striking white hair and uncommon, scarlet eyes, he sifts through his guests as he entertains them with fruitless chatter. 

Though he didn’t entirely humor you with an ugly Christmas getup, he still wore something festive. A burgundy sweater that doesn’t betray his usual style. Complimented it with a black button-up beneath, matching slacks, and onyx loafers. Still so inherently Mr. Sylus. 

He routinely captures your gaze. Raises his champagne glass to you in greeting, a small, dimpled smirk lighting up his features. You hide your bashfulness behind your glass, turning away to chat up your coworkers beneath the ambient crooning of the jazz music spilling from the speakers. 

The night eases by with a bit of champagne. With hors d'oeuvres, karaoke, silly party games, and raucous laughter coloring the atmosphere. Everyone appears to be in good spirits, a few of the party’s attendees stopping by to let you know what a great job you’ve done putting everything together.

You brush them off with a lopsided smile, the bubbly fizzling in your system. You gnaw on your bottom lip once left to your own devices. You grapple with the idea of giving your present to your boss now. It’s a quarter ‘till 10 PM, and you’re sure you won’t have a more opportune time to present it to him. 

You spot your boss amid the partygoers, the world around him blurring and bending as you focus solely on him. He talks with his Chief Technology Officer, a hand stuffed in his pocket. His posture is relaxed, an occasional, rich laugh spilling from his throat. You decide you quite like this side of him. His defenses at half-mast, swept up in the holiday cheer. 

Your face warms. You’re not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the magnetic pull you feel towards him. With a bit of liquid encouragement, you swallow your resolve and swipe your gift from beneath the Christmas tree, making a beeline towards the man of the hour after his conversation ends. 

But fate has other plans for you tonight, no longer working in your favor.

You’re halfway across the room when she walks into frame—Ms. Hunter. The smile you once held dampens, and you clutch your gift to your chest, stock-still. You watch with bated breath as she produces a thin, rectangular box from behind her and presents it to your boss, the glossy wrapping paper catching in the incandescent light. 

He accepts it with a rare smile. Sets his champagne flute on a high-top table and carefully unravels the gift. Once the box’s contents are revealed, your throat grows dry, your eyes prickling with something warm. 

It’s a crudely knit, crimson scarf. It looks like it itches and is two sizes too big for just one person. But it’s clearly a labor of love, and Mr. Sylus bends to allow his lady friend to drape it around his neck. He exudes a quiet fondness as she grazes the tip of his nose with one of the scarf’s frayed ends. It’s simple, yet it speaks volumes of the affection blooming between them. 

Without having spoken a word, you sense whatever relationship they share stretches beyond that of mere friendship. It’s something more. Something you could only hope to obtain, but you’re grossly outmatched. All those months you spent in denial, rose-tinted glasses perched on your nose. You never stood a chance, and the realization slams into you with the force of a tsunami.

With a bitter chuckle, you peer down at the intricately wrapped gift in your hands. You’d taped and retaped it several times, determined to get the lines and creasing just right. Took your time curling the ribbons with scissors and scrawling his name on the To line. You protected your gift with your life on your way to the party. Cradled it like a baby. But now, the sight of it makes your stomach churn, the taste of bile heavy on the back of your tongue. 

Feeling incredibly foolish, you hide your present at the small of your back, quietly stepping away to nurse your wounded pride.

[sayangrafayel]

LADS AU where they all live together Pt. Loft meeting.

Rafayel: Alright, listen up you little shits.

Rafayel: Not you, Zayne. You’re perfect and we’re thrilled you’re here.

(They can never agree on anything) (But they all LOVE Zayne) (What's not to love?)

[somnolentleviathan]

If you don't want a modern fantasy I have just human version here: X (i will edit this one later on) Based off this idea (and is Character B): Character A and character B pretty much grew up together and even promised each other they would be together forever. But due to some circumstances A left, but he promised B that he would be back. Person A wrote a letter promising they would return and they would be together again. But that never happened, as the years passed character A is the head of a Mafia group, as for character B became a drug addict. Character A found him and is doing anything he can to save him. (More)

tws: mentions of drug usage and family abuse (nothing detailed) I did make this one a little more organized

"Look, I might look like some weakling but when I was high as fuck I took down three mafia guards- those were yours? Ah- Yikes..Maybe hire new guards?"

Name: Sylus Love

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Gay

Demihuman: Snow leopard (Has ears and a tail in human form)

Personality: Jealous little shit, untrustworthy, careless, and defensive - he can be quite brash also to keep people away, sarcastic - Not really a personality but he does take promises serious

Personality before drugs: Very caring to those around him, adventurous, affectionate, patient, playful, sarcastic, takes promises serious

Negative Traits: Obsessive

Likes: Sweets (mainly cookies), he really likes fish and wants a pet beta (white and black to match his hair) - tbh he would love his own little aquarium, loves rain, sharing food (loves hot pots), he loves any source of water and the life living in it

Dislikes: Sour food, the sun, doesn't care for dogs all that much, eating fish. Seeing people eat fish around him.

Looks: He has silver hair (which is dyed his hair is normally black) , grey eyes, arms are normally bruised up due to certain drugs - he's 5'3" - Has scar on his left eyebrow, on his ear - His outfits do vary from baggy outfits or crop tops with a jacket and always jeans Fc:

Background:

[ During his childhood his father, Angelo, had been a leader of the mafia, which meant his mom would sneak Sylus out to avoid having guards around them 24/7, she would take him to the beach or aquarium a lot which grew his love for sea life (including plants and really anything that lives in water). But when they were caught, which wasn't all the time, they would get beat the mom taking most the hits as she would protect Sylus. Later on Angelo would leave the mafia business and own his own business. His teenager years was the start of his addiction, he didn't realize it much even when he was going through withdrawal he had just pushed it aside and assumed it was other health issues, around this time his father had been drugging the other without him knowing. Around this time his grades weren't doing too great due to feeling sick, and his mother had been in the hospital. Most the time he snuck out to see his best friend, or to go and visit his mom as his father wouldn't let him, and using whatever money he had to pay for her care.

Once he graduated he had gotten into university for marine biology, he still visited his mother in the hospital everyday but he struggled with money, mostly when he was buying drugs on the side. Angelo decided it was a waste of time and wanted to remarry so he pulled the plug killing his wife. Sylus fully broke, losing his best friend who left, and now his mom. He was kicked out of school due to failing grades and been on drugs sense, living on his own in a rundown warehouse. ]

Info/Notes:

- Has ADHD, has sensory issues, he does have autism but is undiagnosed, anxiety and depression (which is also undiagnosed.) - He used to be in university to be a marine biologist - He remembers the promise him and his best friend had made about staying together forever, he remembers the promise his best friend made about coming back to him.. Due to this he still has hope the other will return - He gets more addicted to the drugs due to seeing hallucinations of his childhood crush - it puts him at ease as it's the only chance he gets to see them - Has a knife (normally hidden away in his shoe or jacket pockets - the knifes hilt is blue while the blade has a design) - Due to his addiction he hops club to club, and cause of this he has a lot of information on certain things (rival mafia weakness maybe) - Being off drugs he has habits of itching his arms and neck a lot, looking around and major headaches - he can be rude due to withdrawal - Tends to threaten people a lot with "yeah, well my lover is a Mafia boss so.....' - Hates being called a lap dog (as he sits on his lovers lap) - He has an older brother and sister that don't anything to help with his drug addiction but they would be worried for him when he's in the mafia

"Dad, did you know what I did when you left me alone in the hospital with mom? I sat by her side crying, begging for her to come back, to not leave me. When I came home I sat in the living room staring at the door like I was a kid again waiting for her to come in bringing cookies or a new toy… What did you do? Oh, right, you got married the same day she died."

Family Relations:

Marie Love

. Sylus' mom by blood, Scarlet and Liam weren't her blood kids. She was closer to Sylus and supported his hobbies and dream - Even winning a goldfish for him at a fair . She always baked cookies in shape of fish for him and his best friend when they were kids, and when the friend left she was always there for her son

Angelo Love

. Was abusive towards Sylus mostly when Marie passed away, blamed him for a lot and wanted his son to be like his other kids to follow in his path . Was partly the reason for Sylus addiction as he would give Sylus heavy dosages . He isn't around in the picture anymore as Sylus fully cut him off, but Sylus still hears from him through his siblings . He used to be a mafia boss before going into strictly business, he cheated on his wife a lot . Loves his other two kids more for following in his footsteps

Scarlet Love

. Helps her father with the business . She does have a husband and kids . Sylus is a little bit closer to her but their relationship is a little rocky still but she did hate to see the other hurt (but turns a blind eye on his addiction)

Liam Love:

. Is the next in line to take over the business . Followed in his fathers foot steps and beats Sylus a lot, killed Sylus' goldfish (after Marie's passing) and was always rude to their "mother" . Was an ass to any of Sylus' friends also . Sylus keeps in contact with him still though due to not wanting to lose every family member, he's also a little terrified to cut contact with Liam

[plutotheplum]

Red Tape

mma fighter!sylus x manager!reader

summary: the man you're in charge of is somewhat of a handful (...and a mouthful).

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, modern au, smut, vaginal fingering, kissing, dirty talk, oral sex - m! and f!receiving, praise kink, p in v, masturbation, size difference, size kink, mild choking

wc: 8.8k

a/n: pulled his grasslands card and nghhh he's so fine and big. lowkey think i wrote too much. hope you guys like it! <3

also on ao3!

The sounds of limbs colliding and loud grunts of exertion fill the air as you step inside the training gym.

You let your eyes scan the expanse of it, eyes narrowing to try and find the white-haired man you’re in charge of. You eventually spot him, red tape wrapped around his hands as he works with his trainer, throwing punches of varying strength against the boxing pads.

Heels clacking against the floor, you approach Sylus, standing off to the side as you watch him train. His moves are calculated and sharp, never allowing for any stray hits to pass through. It’s how Sylus has managed to stay at the top of the rankings for the past few years. He had risen quickly, his strength and technique acknowledged by those around him, supporters and rivals alike. 

You’d been his manager for a total of two years. It’d been outlined in a fortunate job posting that you’d deemed interesting enough to apply for. Back then you had wondered whether he’d be difficult, but Sylus was annoying at most and actually acknowledged your judgement. 

“How am I looking?” Sylus calls out to you, stepping away from his trainer and grabbing a bottle of cold water to press against his neck.

“Good,” you reply, watching as he steps out from under the ropes of the boxing ring, his tall frame approaching yours.

“Just good?” he asks, peering down at you.

You roll your eyes, reaching for his hand to undo the tape that covers his fingers. “Fine. Better than good. We both know you’re at the top of your form these days.”

Sylus hums in agreement, his fingers flexing once you unwrap the tape. You do the same for his other hand, gathering the discarded tape and rolling it up into a ball. He drinks down the bottle of cold water, throat bobbing as he does so.

“Who am I up against tonight?” Sylus asks, slumping down into a nearby chair.

His muscles are taut from training, a sheen of sweat covering his body. You can’t look away when he pulls his tank top over his head, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he reaches for a towel to sling around the back of his neck and wipe his face dry.

“First few matches should be fine,” you tell him, drawing your eyes away from his sculpted body to look down at your phone, “final match might be a little hard. Xavier.”

Sylus sighs, running his hand through his damp hair as he glances at you. “He’s fast.” 

“Not as fast as you,” you say, shaking your head.

He grins, leaning towards you. “It’s sweet my manager has such faith in me,” he drawls.

You shoot him an unimpressed look, pushing his head back when he gets a little too close for comfort, his crimson eyes boring into yours intently. 

“I’m more concerned about my paycheck.”

“I make you twice as much money than you would at a shitty desk job,” Sylus replies, thighs  spreading as he gets comfortable.

“Try making it triple,” you grin back at him, tossing him another bottle of water as you stand up. 

Sylus catches it effortlessly, pressing it against his forehead this time. He slouches a little more and you dig through his bag beside you, handing him a protein bar. You let your gaze drift as he rests, watching as the other men train in the gym. 

Some throw punches, others duck to avoid getting hit. You were well aware of the fact that Sylus had his own personal boxing ring, and yet he preferred to train here, in front of other men. An intimidation tactic or simply personal preference, you didn’t know. All in all, you were grateful that Sylus’ performance was consistent. You hardly had to involve yourself, a new rush of sponsorships flooding your email in the days following his matches. 

“Remember to rest,” you say to him when he stands up and rolls his shoulders, his muscles rippling.

“I’m a professional,” Sylus replies dryly, his hand landing on your head heavily as he grants you a few pats.

You scoff, swatting his hand away, trying to smooth down the strands of your hair. The view of his bare, broad back is appreciated however, your greedy eyes following the boxer as he slips past the ropes of the boxing ring again. It doesn't exactly fall under the job description to ogle the man you’re in charge of, but Sylus is unfairly handsome, and innocent glances never hurt anyone.

-

The thrum of the arena is electrifying. 

You can feel the beat of the music match the pulse of your heart as you stand outside Sylus' locker room, checking your phone every now and then. The door swings open after a few moments and you step inside, finding Sylus sitting on the steel bench. 

His legs bounce, his hands clasped together, head hanging low. All boxers had their own ritual, and you weren’t about to interrupt his. Instead, you strike up a quiet conversation with his trainer, waiting for Sylus to finish up.

Sylus waves you over after a few moments and you’re already undoing the red tape from its roll, winding it around his fingers so that it sticks properly. He flexes his fingers experimentally, giving you a nod and you move to his other hand, fingers brushing against his.

“Take it easy out there,” you murmur, lifting his hand to smooth out the creases in the tape.

“I always take it easy,” Sylus says, sending you a devilish grin.

It’s not exactly true. Sylus likes to show off, you think he might like the thrill of it. Carefully placed embellished hits do make for great television after all. 

“Besides,” he continues, his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs to pull you between his legs, “I have my lucky charm with me.”

You let out an awkward laugh, squirming out of his grasp although he seems reluctant to let go. His trainer seems to catch the little interaction between you, and you clear your throat, taking another step back.

“Manager. I’m your manager .”

“You can be both,” he retorts, standing up.

Sylus bounces on the balls of his feet for a few moments, his shoulders rolling and head tilting to get rid of any cricks in his neck. He pulls the hood of his jacket over his head, snowy hair disappearing, his face darkening. An announcement blares through the locker room and he’s moving out, with you and the rest of his team trailing after him.

You’ve lost count of how many matches of his you’ve attended, but somehow the nerves don’t ease, the knot of uncertainty tightening in your stomach. He’s more than capable of handling the blows hurled at him but there’s a part of you that can’t help but worry about an opponent playing dirty and landing a blow that he can’t recover from.

He excels through the first stages as expected. Most of his opponents for the first few rounds are amateurs at most, making clumsy mistakes that end up giving Sylus an opening to finish them off. 

Xavier is more of a challenge. He’s quick on his feet, easily sidestepping and making short, sharp jabs that have Sylus keeping his distance. You wince when Xavier lands a blow to Sylus’ face, hard enough to make his lip split. Blood runs down his chin, but Sylus is catching the rivulets of blood with his tongue and finding your eyes through the sea of faces, his grin cocky albeit bloody. 

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. His eyes glint at the challenge, your warning to “take it easy” all but forgotten as he lands a heavy punch to Xavier’s abdomen. Xavier stumbles back, doubling over in pain but he straightens out just as quickly.

A few more punches are thrown, but Sylus wins the first round, thankfully. He’s waving you over during the rest period, crouching down. 

You lean forward, letting him whisper into your ear, the sheer loudness of the crowd making it difficult to hear him.

“Need you to fix my tape.”

You nod, pulling off his boxing gloves and undoing the tape around his fingers to wrap it a bit tighter.

“Better?” you ask, peering up at him.

Sylus nods, and you motion for him to bend his head a little more. You press a damp towelette against his split lip. He hisses at the feeling, jaw clenching.

“He’s weak on his left-side,” you murmur, wiping away the blood that’s dripped down his chin.

“You’re not one to give me tips,” he says.

“Seems like you need it,” you whisper, “you’re performing poorly, Sylus.” 

That seems to set him off a little, his brows furrowing for a moment before he schools his features back into something more neutral. He reaches out for you, his large hand cupping your cheek. Your eyes widen, trying to take a step back but it’s too late, your flushed face is being broadcast on the large screens.

The crowd seems just as surprised as you are, the raucous chatter quietening for a moment as they watch. 

His lips brush over your ear as he speaks, his breath warm and heavy. “I’ll make you triple.”

Sylus lets go of you, and you shoot a wane smile to the camera that’s been trained on you both. It’s convincing enough for the crowd to lose attention as the second round starts.

As the match drags on, it becomes evident as to what Sylus is doing. He’s toying with his opponent, letting Xavier think he has the upper hand when really it’s Sylus that’s controlling the pace. Sylus lets Xavier get one last hit in before he’s retaliating, hard and fast, his opponent’s body crumpling to the floor. When Xavier fails to rise, cheers erupt, Sylus’ name being chanted throughout the arena, crazed fans jumping up and down as the referee holds his arm up.

There’s sweat dripping from Sylus’ brow when you find him back in the locker room. The reporters had loved his post-fight interview, his smug grin supersized on the large screens in the arena. A medic kneels beside him, examining his body carefully to eliminate the possibility of any injuries worsening.

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sylus smiles, his head tipped back, resting against the tiled wall. “I won, didn’t I?”

Frustration pricks at your skin and your eyes narrow, feeling tempted to slap the stupid smile right off of his face.

“Don’t be like that,” Sylus coos, brushing off the medic attending to him without a second glance and reaching for you. “You wanted triple, I made you triple.”

“I- I wasn’t being serious !” you hiss, trying to tug your wrist free.

Sylus’ grip only tightens, tugging you down so that your face nears his. You swallow harshly, his scarlet eyes somehow brighter under the light.

“You said I was performing poorly,” he murmurs, “I did what you wanted.” His fingers unfurl, stroking the inside of your wrist. The hint of a smirk plays on the side of his mouth when he sees how rigid you’ve become. “Besides,” his voice lowers a bit more so as to stop others from hearing, “you liked it when I smiled at you.”

His fingers smooth over your skin a few more times, dragging down to spread across the expanse of your palm. Sylus can spot the haze that glosses over your eyes, the way you extend your arm towards him slightly, chasing more of his touch. 

You think you could’ve stayed like that forever if not for his physical therapist that’s bundled inside the locker room, pushing you aside. His fingers fall away from yours and you snatch your hand back, tucking it behind your back. Sylus looks like he wants to say something, but you’re turning on your heel to escape the oppressive atmosphere, feeling as though you’ve been smothered. 

The cool night air is welcome when you burst through the doors of the arena, chest rising as you take in a deep lungful to calm the storm of emotions swirling in your mind. It’s a strictly professional relationship, you remind yourself, muttering under your breath and nodding along to your rampant thoughts to soothe yourself.

“Professional,” you whisper, staring at your hand as though it were a traitor, “I am a professional .”

Your fingers tingle in response, the phantom sensation of his fingers spreading out across your wrist. A sharp scoff leaves you, wiping your hand against your skirt. Unfortunately, your mind is all over the place and remembering Sylus’ bloody grin is enough to send a rush of heat through your body. 

The sound of someone’s shoes shuffling in the distance has your ears perking up, but you don’t pay it any mind, too frustrated with yourself. Sylus is irritating, but it doesn’t stop your heart from racing whenever you think about him. You’d never meant for the stupid, little crush to flourish into something bigger, but ever since he’d asked you to stick around, things had gotten complicated.

Truth is, Sylus hadn’t lost a single match ever since you’d begun to wrap his hands for him. It’s why he has you wrap them now, every match without fail. You didn’t exactly believe in this superstition of his, but he was adamant, refusing to fight unless it was you that was winding the red tape around his fingers. 

The scuffling noise grows louder and your brows furrow, trying to spot where it’s coming from.

“Ya lookin’ really pretty, miss,” a raspy voice sounds, an unfamiliar man stepping out of the dark.

The stench of tobacco is strong and you’re taking a step back, sending him an uneasy smile. He smiles back, yellowed teeth becoming visible, and you fight a grimace, trying to stop your lip from curling up in disgust. You spy the automatic doors from the corner of your eye, but the man reaches for you before you can make it to safety, holding onto you tight.

“Let me go!” you say, sounding panicked.

He only grunts, trying to pull you towards him. You pull back, gritting your teeth when his fingers dig into you.

“Ease up, pretty,” the man leers.

If anything, this whole situation was Sylus’ fault. You’re angry at yourself, at Sylus, and now at this disgusting man who was trying to take advantage of you.

“You’re pathetic,” your voice is a harsh hiss, fear giving way to resentment. 

“Now, that is not very nice,” he replies, “why don’t you smile for me? A real one this time.”

Your eye twitches at the sheer audacity of his words, teeth gritting together. You’ve never punched anyone before, but tonight might be a good time to start. 

“Fuck you.” 

Before your fist can land, there’s a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back gently. You don’t have to look to know who it is. Sylus’ arm shoots out instead, punching the man in the face. He staggers back, tripping over his own feet and landing on the floor with a heap. Blood wets his hand and he groans, clutching his nose. You hope it’s broken. 

“You okay?” Sylus murmurs, stepping in front of you and blocking the man from sight.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, frowning. “I was handling it.”

“I’m sure you were,” he says lightly, gaze dipping over you.

The man makes a noise of disgruntlement, a security guard hauling the man up onto his feet. You try to poke your head out from Sylus’ side, but he doesn’t let you, holding your wrist to distract you. He smooths his fingers over where the man had been gripping you, his touch firm and insistent, soothing the reddened imprints on your skin.

“Let me take you home,” Sylus murmurs, his fingers brushing against yours gently.

“I can take care of myself,” you retort.

Sylus doesn’t let you escape this time, tucking your hair behind your ear before he’s guiding you towards his bike. 

“Wait! Were you even cleared?”

“I’m not injured,” Sylus says, shoving a helmet down over your head. 

“But- but my car!” you protest.

“I’ll have Luke and Kieran take care of it.”

The mention of the twins makes it more likely for something to go wrong. There’s a good chance they’ll end up totalling your car, or losing your belongings. You don’t even know why Sylus took them on, but they had succeeded in becoming unofficial trainees under Sylus’ guidance. 

You shake your head stubbornly, pushing the helmet up. Sylus doesn’t let you, his hand shoving it back down before he’s picking you up and setting you down on his bike.

“I’m your manager!” you grouse in a last ditch effort.

“I’m well aware,” Sylus replies, swinging his leg over his bike.

You squeal when he takes off, arms wrapping around his middle tightly, eyes squeezing shut as the wind whips around you. He knows where your apartment is, having visited a few times when you’d asked him to stop by to sign some pressing paperwork.

His bike slows to a soft purr as it stops by the curb outside your apartment complex. His bike is annoyingly difficult to dismount and you grunt, struggling. You manage to land, although on shaky feet, your knees buckling for a moment. Sylus laughs, catching you by the waist before you hit the floor. The heat of his body has your breath hitching, your hands resting on his broad shoulders for stability.

“You’re too clumsy,” he murmurs, squeezing your sides gently, “take it easy.”

“Really?” you roll your eyes when he uses your own words against you.

“Really.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, voice softening.

All you can do is nod, heart fluttering at the gentle look in his eyes. He stares at you for a moment longer, trying to determine whether you’re lying. When you don’t say anything, he pulls you closer, his hands rubbing up and down your waist soothingly.

“I didn’t mean it,” you mumble out, feeling shy, “you- you were great tonight.”

“Yeah?”

You hum in response, giving him another nod. Sylus’ hands drift lower, past the line of professionalism. He stares down at you, his head tilting. Your lungs seem to have lost their ability to function at full capacity, quick, uneven breaths leaving you as your hands tighten into his jacket. 

“What are you doing?” you whisper, voice barely audible when the tip of his nose brushes yours.

“Determining your wellbeing,” Sylus says smoothly. 

“I’m fine, seriously.”

“Your cheeks are flushed and your chest is heaving” he whispers. Sylus’ hand has begun to wander, tracing down your neck, pushing apart the collar of your blouse to trail lower, his eyes drinking in your cleavage hungrily. He lets out a low laugh when you twitch in his arms. “You seem... unwell .”

“I’m fine !” you push away from his chest, patting your hot cheeks to try and cool them.

He raises his brows silently, but follows you into your apartment complex all the same, despite your protests. Something about ensuring your safety. Thankfully, he keeps his distance when he steps into the elevator with you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. 

The air is tense and you sneak a glance up at him to find him staring back at you. Your gaze snaps back, embarrassment rushing through your body, wishing the floor would just do you a favor and swallow you up.

Sylus doesn’t come in when you open the door, watching as you kick off your heels and rub at your sore ankles. He just stares , leaning against the doorframe. 

“Thank you,” you say, breaking through the awkwardness of the air, “for bringing me home and- and taking care of that guy, but I definitely had it handled.”

He gives you a lazy smile, his head dropping to rest against the doorframe as well. 

“You're welcome.”

“Okay, well, you- you can go now,” you say, gesturing with your hands and pushing at his chest to get him to leave.

Sylus doesn’t budge, his lips pursing as he stares down at you. The height difference is all the more noticeable since you’ve taken off your heels. His hand reaches out, landing on your waist.

“Come see me.”

“ What ?”

“Come see me,” Sylus repeats, “I’ll teach you how to punch.”

“I- I don’t need to learn how to punch,” you sputter, shaking your head vehemently. 

“If you had punched that man, you would’ve broken your thumb,” he murmurs, his hand sliding up your neck to cup your cheek. “You need me.”

You can’t help your eyes from fluttering shut, leaning into the warmth of his palm. Sylus lets you, his thumb running over your cheek gently. You find that he’s gotten closer when you open your eyes, his lips parted. Rising up on the tips of your toes, you let your nose nudge his, wanting him to kiss you, consequences be damned.

Sylus smiles, a soft laugh leaving him when he pulls back, drawing up to his full height. “You’re my manager.”

You’re too stunned to reply, unable to get any words out as you watch him walk back towards the elevator. He gives a wave of his fingers, disappearing from sight. You stare at the empty hallway for a moment, letting out a frustrated scoff and scrubbing your hand over your face. 

Exhaustion weighs your body down and you’re crawling into bed after showering, tugging the blankets up over yourself. The incessant ache between your thighs keeps you from falling asleep and you’re acutely aware of how empty you feel.

It’s why your hand is creeping down into your sleep shorts, a soft noise spilling into the quiet air when you find you’re already wet. Sylus’ face flashes through your mind, and instead of pushing it away, you focus on it. You rub your clit, slowly at first, savoring the sensation as you imagine his lazy smile.

The image shifts however, and now you’re imagining him between your thighs, your hand in his white hair as he licks over your cunt. It has your back arching, fingers rubbing against your clit faster as you moan.

“Fuck,” you whimper, stroking over your clit gently, the sensation making your thighs twitch.

Your imagination has begun to run rampant, imagining his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks into you, his mouth on your body, on your lips, against your ear whispering filth. You stuff two fingers into your pussy, fucking them in and out desperately. You have no doubt Sylus’ fingers would reach deeper. 

You need him, you need him desperately . You think about him shoving your face into the pillows, palming your ass and sinking his cock into you. You think about his body flush against yours, his hands stroking your hair as he humps his hips into you. He’s just so big , his weight on top of yours would most likely make you lose your mind. Slick pours out of your cunt rapidly, whimpers filling in the air with how sensitive you’ve become.

“Sylus!” you moan his name as you cum, body shuddering.

Panting, you stare up at the ceiling, a frustrated whine slipping out of you when you realize how pathetically you’re acting. The haze of your orgasm doesn’t let your mind linger on the thought for any longer, your eyes drooping shut as you fall asleep.

-

You’re too weak to resist.

It’s how you’ve ended up here, inside his personal boxing ring, with him adjusting the tape on your hands. He’d suggested boxing gloves, but they’d kept slipping off with how big they were.

Your body stiffens when he steps up behind you. Sylus has you feeling like a fool as you hold your arms up, bent at the elbows, hands curled into fists. You meet his gaze through the mirror and he simply smirks, his chest pressing against your back as he fixes your form.

“Thumbs outside,” he murmurs, prying your fist open to tug your thumb free, “you’ll break them otherwise.”

“I really don’t think this is necessary,” you mutter, tensing when his fingers trail down your side.

“Self-defense is always necessary,” he replies.

You bite back a whine when his large hand curls around your hip, his palm pushing gently as he gets you to shift your stance.

“When you throw a punch, you have to pivot,” Sylus says, his other hand dropping to the other side of your hips. “Keep your shoulders relaxed, if you’re too tense the hit won’t be as powerful.”

You can’t exactly relax when he’s hovering behind you. Sylus squeezes your hips and you don't know whether he’s actually trying to teach you or whether he’s simply being a horrible man and setting off your poor touch-starved body. 

“Wrist straight,” he continues, stepping away. “Put your body weight into it, and remember to pivot, okay?”

A simple nod is all that leaves you and he stands in front of you, holding his hands up. You can’t help but feel insulted.

“At least put the boxing pads on,” you mutter, feeling miffed.

“Hit me,” Sylus orders instead.

You lean forward, hips twisting as you put as much of your body weight into the punch as you can, shoulder rippling forward as you punch his hand.

“What are you trying to hurt, a fly?” he drawls, shooting you an unimpressed look. “Again.”

“I could have your reputation ruined,” you hiss back, adjusting your position. You let your hips pivot again, cheeks flushed with irritation as your arm shoots forward, punching his hand.

“Better.”

A satisfied huff sounds and you cross your arms over your chest triumphantly. It’s the little things in life, you think. Sylus rolls his eyes, his finger nudging at your forehead.

“Let’s just hope you don’t run into any more unsavory characters.”

“There’s plenty of other ways to defend myself,” you retort. “Pepper spray, tasers, and well, men always tend to have a weakness.” You point to the spot between his thighs.

Sylus looks down to where you’re gesturing, a laugh breaking out of him when he realizes what you’re implying. 

“Not always,” he says and your eyes widen when he suddenly approaches you. Sylus places his hand over your mouth, spinning you around so that he’s practically draped over your back. “Get out of this.”

It’s hard to move when he has you pinned against him like this, but you shift your arm, driving your elbow back into his side hard . Sylus grunts, his grip loosening on you just for a moment. It’s the fraction of a second that you need, leg lifting as you stomp his foot harshly. He lets out a pained groan, and your leg kicks out again, landing a blow to his knee. 

Sylus buckles onto the mat of the boxing ring and part of you can’t believe you’ve managed to bring him down. You hover over him, almost feeling bad for the man as he clutches his knee.

A sigh of a feigned dramatics leaves you, a satisfied expression creeping up onto your face. “You know, you did tell me to get out- ah! ” You shriek when he grabs your arm, tugging you down. Your legs give way and you land on the mat in a heap, letting out a pained noise.

“Celebrated too early,” he murmurs, “once your attacker is down, you run .”

You grunt in annoyance, ignoring his hand when he offers it as he stands up. Sylus waits for a few moments longer, letting out a soft laugh before he hauls you up by your elbow, setting you on your feet.

He lowers his head to check if there’s any damage to your face, invading your personal space. Your head leans back as his face moves closer until you can feel the heat of his breath fanning across your skin. 

“Stop it,” you mutter, taking a step back.

You’re too clumsy for your own good however, losing your footing at the edge of the boxing ring. A squeak escapes you, arms flailing for a bit as you feel yourself beginning to slip, the ropes sliding down your back. Sylus reaches for you before you can fall, tugging you towards him. 

“Careful,” he chastises. 

Sylus’ hand smooths over your hair, brushing it away from your face. Your breath hitches when he cups your cheeks, tilting your head up.

“Stop- stop doing that,” you whisper, “stop touching me.”

“I don’t want to,” Sylus murmurs, his arm wrapping around your waist, “stop fighting me.”

You send him a half-hearted glare and he smirks, drawing you closer until you’re flush against his body.

“You wanted it last night,” he continues, mouth hovering above yours, “give in.”

His stare is blistering and it’s almost as though Sylus can see through you, though you’re not sure whether you’re ready for that yet. Your head shakes stubbornly and he lets go of you, letting out a sigh.

You watch as he shrugs off his shirt, his muscles flexing. Unspoken words sit on the tip of your tongue, but he’s leaving the boxing ring. The sound of his fist colliding with the punching bag echoes through the room and you stand there awkwardly, watching as the punching bag rattles under the force of his punches.

“Should I leave?” you call out meekly once you’ve managed to get out of the boxing ring yourself.

“Stay,” Sylus replies, glancing back at you, “we aren’t done.”

His words sound foreboding enough to have you squirming in place. Sylus hits that stupid punching bag countless times, to the point where even your emails aren’t keeping you interested. 

Sweat covers his taut muscles as he approaches you, his hand running through his hair. You find your eyes fixated on his biceps, how broad his shoulders are and how big he is. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs.

“Like what?” you ask breathlessly.

He reaches out, his fingers squishing your cheeks together. “Like you want me to fuck you.”

Well, he’s not exactly wrong . You stare at him for a moment longer, heart racing in your chest. All your previous reasons to not pursue something with him have begun to fail you, your stubbornness being chipped away as he runs his thumb over your lips.

“I do,” you say, voice hoarse, “I do want you to fuck me.”

Sylus grins, his eyes flashing dangerously at your confession. The sweat on his body seeps into your clothes when he pushes you up against the wall, but you don’t care, hands spreading across his firm chest, a soft whine slipping out of you.

“Why the change in mind?” he coos, his thumb brushing over your lips again.

“Do I need a reason?” you whisper, opening your mouth and sucking his thumb into your mouth.

Surprise flits across his face and he lets out a deep laugh, pushing his thumb into your mouth further. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling around his digit, before lapping at the pad of his thumb playfully. He kisses your cheek, trailing hungry kisses down your neck, hand squeezing at your waist roughly.

“Always look so fuckin’ pretty,” he rasps, pulling his thumb free from the confines of your mouth.

His body is warm against yours, his hands groping at your ass, squeezing at the fat appreciatively. You whimper, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, eager for his mouth on yours.

“Wanted to do this at the match,” Sylus murmurs, “on the big screens. Could’ve shown everyone how good my manager is for me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you reply, tilting your head as he kisses along your jaw, “that- ah- that would’ve caused a scandal.”

“The things I want to do to you would cause a bigger scandal,” he says, smiling down at you.

You’re weak for it, the lazy curl of his lips, the low drawl of his voice. You tug him down a little more and press a heated kiss to the corner of his mouth. His eyes bore into yours and he lets out an amused huff, stroking his thumb over the curve of your cheek before finally slotting his lips over yours. 

Sylus works his lips against yours, hand cupping the back of your head to draw you closer to him. He maneuvers you as he pleases, your hands sliding down to rest against his bare chest, rising up on the tips of your toes.

He hisses suddenly, pulling away and you frown, brows furrowing. Sylus touches his still healing split lip, running his tongue over it.

"Sorry," you wince.

"I'm fine," he murmurs, lowering his head, "kiss me, sweetie."

"Oh, I don't think-"

Sylus doesn't let you finish. You’re both stumbling together, bumping into a wall every so often as he kisses you all the way to his bedroom, his hands roving over you. Biting your lip, you push at his chest, smiling when he falls down onto the bed, flat on his back.

Sylus shifts, propping his arm behind his head to watch you. You’ve never felt this adventurous before, but you’re pulling your shirt off slowly, giving him a show. His eyes darken when you take off your bra, taking in your breasts and pebbled nipples. 

“Tease,” he murmurs when you pinch your nipples.

You take your shorts off next, hooking your thumbs into your panties to shimmy them off when he stops you.

“Keep them on,” Sylus says, voice laden with lust. “C’mere, baby.”

You crawl over him and Sylus drags you into another kiss, brushing your hair back. He squeezes at your ass a few times, groaning into your mouth as he feels your tits squished up against his chest.

“Hi,” you whisper, nosing against his cheek.

“Hey,” he says hoarsely, hands caressing your hips.

You can feel how hard he is through his shorts, the straining imprint of it against your skin. Sylus doesn’t let you touch his cock though, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and moving your jaw to guide you into a kiss. 

A soft whimper escapes you when you feel his fingers brush your panties, pressing a little firmer until he’s rubbing your cunt through your panties. Sylus’ kisses grow sloppier, spit leaking from the sides of your mouths until he’s pushing your panties to the side and spreading your folds with his fingers.

“ Fuck ,” you mewl, pulling away from his ravenous mouth to rock your hips back into his fingers.

“So wet, sweetie,” Sylus whispers, tongue darting out to lick over your lower lip, “all for me, hm?”

You nod, hand squeezing at his shoulder. He smiles against your lips and you kiss him, fingers in his hair whilst your other hand wanders over his chest and abdomen. 

Sylus sinks a finger into you, and your suspicions are confirmed, his fingers do reach deeper. He keeps you on the edge, alternating between rubbing at your clit and sinking a finger into you from time to time.

“Sylus,” you whine, pouting, “wanna cum.”

“Knew you’d be this whiny,” Sylus says, rubbing your clit faster, spreading your slick over your cunt.

That catches you off-guard. “You- you thought about me?” you ask breathily.

“All the time,” he groans, “always so fuckin’ good to me. Had to stop myself from getting hard every time you taped my hands.”

You let out a strangled moan at his confession, pressing yourself closer and smashing your lips onto his. He grunts, cupping the back of your neck to kiss you back just as feverishly, bullying another finger into your pussy.

Sylus licks into your mouth and you suck on his tongue, tugging lightly at the strands. He doesn’t let anymore spit drip, licking it up from your chin and pushing it back into your mouth. 

“ Ah- ” you pant, eyes rolling back as he curls his fingers, thrusting them in and out of you.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, kissing your cheek, “taking my fingers so well.”

His thumb joins in on the onslaught, rubbing over your clit until you’re twitching and letting out ragged gasps. 

Sylus moves you onto your back suddenly, his hands pulling your panties down and pushing your thighs up so that your cunt is on display for him. He groans at the sight, drinking in the glistening folds of your pussy.

Thumbing them apart, he groans again, watching the clench of your aching hole around nothing. 

“Pretty pussy,” Sylus whispers, lowering his head to lick a stripe up your wet, slick pussy, “prettiest fuckin’ pussy ever, sweetie.”

He slips two of his fingers back into your pussy, crimson eyes finding yours as he kisses your clit gently. You smile hazily, running your fingers through his hair and rolling your hips up so he can kiss your clit again.

Sylus’ mouth latches onto your cunt before long, licking through the folds before sucking your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the swollen bud and flicking at it. You gasp, drinking in a shuddering breath of air as he squeezes your thighs and draws back to spit on your cunt.

“Don’t stop,” you whimper, pressing his head back down, “Sylus, don’t stop.”

He huffs out a breath against your pussy, a half-laugh. Sylus doesn’t deny you though, dutifully carrying out his role, eating you out roughly. You squeal when he shoves his tongue into your pussy, fucking it in and out you for a few moments before his mouth is finding your clit again, teeth grazing the sensitive bud.

You twitch, tugging at his hair harder, letting out another squeal when he squeezes your breast roughly, his other hand tweaking at your hard nipple.

“‘m gonna cum,” you say, voice wavering, “ fuck , ‘m gonna cum !”

Sylus looks up at you, and it’s just like you imagined. His red eyes stare at you intently and the eye contact coupled with his tongue stroking over your clit is enough to have you crying out, body writhing as you cum on his tongue.

He hums into your cunt, holding you still as you try to escape his still working mouth, hands smoothing over your sides. Sylus laps over your cunt as you cum, drinking up your slick greedily, pulling away with a few soft pecks to your clit and inner thighs.

“You’re insane,” you mumble, cupping his cheek to kiss him.

Hand slipping lower, you grasp him through his shorts, reveling in the little gasp he lets out. From what you can feel, he’s long and thick , his cock throbbing through the fabric.

He helps you pull his shorts off, and your breath gets stuck in your throat, eyes fixated on his cock. Sylus is thick and big , and you think your poor pussy might split if he tries to stuff it inside of you.

“Not going to fit,” you whisper, voicing your concerns.

Sylus smirks, pulling you by the arm to kiss your cheek. “I’ll make it fit.”

Red, hot arousal runs through you at his words and you lean forward to kiss him again. Sylus runs his fingers through your hair, gathering the strands in a fist as you shift lower and press a kiss to the head of his cock.

Pre-cum drips from the tip and your tongue darts out, lapping it up so as to not waste a single drop. Sylus breathes heavily and you smile up at him, letting your tongue loll out.

“Brat,” he says, grasping the base of his cock before smacking the length of his cock against your tongue a few times, “this what you want?”

You nod, holding your tongue out obediently before licking up the length of it, tracing a throbbing vein. Your tongue swirls around the head, and Sylus moans, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he watches your mouth envelop his cock. 

It’s a struggle to not let your teeth graze the sensitive skin of his cock, but you do your best, sinking your head down more, lips stretched around the fatness of his cock. 

“Tap my thigh if it’s too much,” Sylus whispers, pushing your head gently.

Tears prick at your eyes, feeling his cock go deeper, air being sucked in through your nose as your throat swallows around him. 

“ Shit ,” he hisses, fingers spreading out across your scalp, “just like that, baby.”

You whine, nails digging into his thigh, taking him to the hilt as your nose buries into the white hair at the base of his cock. Sylus moans loudly and you pull off, catching your breath by opting to place little kisses along the length of his cock. 

Licking up the length of his cock again, you suck the head of it into your mouth, head bobbing shallowly as you hollow your cheeks and suck. Sylus mutters out quiet curses, his hand smoothing over your hair when his grip loosens. The weight of his cock on your tongue has your eyes drooping, your half-lidded gaze peering up into his aroused one.

His cock jerks against your lips, more pre-cum falling from his cock in fat globs. You catch them with your tongue, licking over the head of his cock and the leaking tip. His cum is addictive, the taste heady as you rub your lips across his tip, kissing at the flared head of his cock.

His thighs twitch and you giggle drunkenly, kissing his hip.

Sylus reaches down, cupping your cheek to kiss you, uncaring of the taste of his cum in your mouth. You whine, hand wrapping around his fat cock to stroke him, the sinful sounds filling the room as he wraps his hand around your throat to hold you in place while he kisses you. 

“I didn’t take my manager for a whore,” he whispers, breath fanning across your lips.

“‘s your fault,” you reply, kissing him sweetly, wrist rotating as you jerk him off.

Sylus pants into your mouth, his hand tightening around your throat. You whine lowly, eyes fluttering shut when he kisses you messily, his hips bucking into your hand.

“My pretty, little whore,” Sylus says, squeezing your neck before letting go.

“Yours,” you agree, nose nudging against his affectionately.

Sylus kisses you slower this time, his hand cradling the back of your head. It’s tender enough to stop you from stroking his cock, your mind turning to mush with how gently he’s kissing you.

You can hear your lips smacking together, his hand rubbing up and down your back, his other hand drifting to circle your swollen clit again. You whine quietly, nuzzling into his cheek.

“Want me to fill you up, baby?” Sylus murmurs, his hand squeezing at your ass, “make you go brainless on my cock?”

“ Yes !” you sound your want, gripping his shoulder. “Please, please! Want- want your cock so bad, Sylus. I want you!”

He groans at the sheer need in your voice, and you roll over onto your stomach when he lets you, arching your back and pushing your ass up into the air.

“Sweetie,” Sylus rasps, spanking your ass, “ fuck- so fuckin’ good to me.”

You shove your face into a pillow, muffling your squeal when he shoves his face into your cunt, licking over your slick folds. Sylus spanks your ass again before kissing and biting at the reddened skin, leaving the imprints of his teeth on your ass. 

He’s kind enough to shove a pillow under your hips, the thoughtful action making your heart flutter wildly. The press of his cock against your pussy is enough to have you moaning again, hips rocking back to try and get the head of it to slip inside.

“Needy baby,” Sylus whispers, draping himself over your back to kiss your shoulder. “My cock-hungry slut.”

“ Oh- oh fuck ,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he wraps his arm around you neck.

“Good girl,” Sylus whispers, kissing your cheek as his arm tightens.

You coo happily, turning your head to kiss the bulge of his bicep, feeling all rational thought leave your mind as nuzzle against his warm skin. He laughs hoarsely, brushing another kiss to your shoulder, hand kneading the fat of your hip.

“Put it in,” you demand, pussy empty and aching for his cock.

“Be patient,” Sylus admonishes, his fingers stroking over your pussy again. “I need a condom.”

“N-no!” Your protest comes out entirely too quickly and Sylus pauses his movements. You grumble, looking back at him. “I- I mean, I’m on birth control and I’m clean… please, Sylus?”

Sylus raises his brows, peering down at you. “Yeah? You want my cock raw, baby? Wanna feel every inch filling you up?”

You nod, a contented sigh leaving you, your lips drifting across the corded muscle of his forearm as he plays with your cunt, pushing his fingers in one last time before he grasps his cock. You whine, teeth sinking into his bicep as Sylus pushes his cock in slowly.

The sheets of his bed are in disarray with how you’re clawing at them, feeling his thick cock stretch you out. 

“Too- too much!” you hiccup, squirming under him.

“Nearly there,” Sylus whispers, squeezing his arm around your neck tighter, “take my cock, sweetie.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he bottoms out. Sylus is hard and thick , his cock throbbing inside of your aching cunt. You feel wonderfully full, mouth placing sloppy kisses to his bicep as he drops his weight onto you, pinning you against the bed.

“Fuck- hah- cunt’s gripping me so fuckin’ tight,” he groans.

As though in response, your pussy clenches around him and Sylus swears again, his forehead falling against your shoulder. He lets you get adjusted to his size, his hand caressing your waist soothingly before you can feel his hips draw back, thrusting into you slowly.

“You’re so big ,” you slur, eyes fluttering shut.

Sylus grunts, his fat cock bullying into your pussy again when he rolls his hips forward, breathing heavily against your back. You feel perfectly at home, content with the feeling of his arm around his neck, and the weight of his body bearing down on you. Reaching behind you blindly, you manage to find his hand and Sylus laces his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand affectionately. 

“It’s like you were made for me,” Sylus whispers against your cheek, “hm? You were made for me, baby. Perfect little cunt made to take my cock.”

It’s getting harder to suck in air with how tightly his arm is constricting your throat. An uneven gasp leaves your mouth, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure mixes in with the lack of oxygen, his filthy words driving you further and further into a place where you can’t think.

His cock punches into you, his balls smacking against your clit, the sounds echoing through the room, the lewd harshness of skin slapping against skin making your cheeks flush. Sylus lets you breathe more comfortably when you dig your nails into his arm, trailing soft kisses along your cheek.

“Good girl,” he praises, his needy pants filling your ear, “my perfect girl.”

You whine, tilting your head a little more. “W-wanna kiss,” you mumble, “kiss me, Sylus.”

Sylus kisses you gently, his lips moving against yours whilst his hips hump into your ass, driving his cock deep into your clenching pussy. He moves you before long, turning you on to your back, kissing your ankles and dipping his head to land a reverent kiss to your fluttering pussy.

Your legs lock around his waist, staring up at him hazily with your lip bitten as he pushes his cock into you again. Sylus lowers his body onto yours, making sure you’re comfortable before his hips are moving again.

“Feels s’good,” you mumble, turning your head to kiss his cheek.

Sylus hums, brushing a kiss to your brow, his hands smoothing over your hair. His thrusts grow more powerful before long, punching the air out of your lungs, your cries emanating through the room as your nails claw down his back.

“Gonna cum?” he asks, voice a low growl as he feels you clenching around him tightly.

You nod rapidly, hands curling around his shoulders as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, nipping and biting as he grinds his cock in deep . You whimper, back arching, and he grins against your skin, slowing his movements to make sure you can feel his every inch fat, throbbing cock filling you up.

“So pretty,” Sylus whispers, nosing along your cheek, “my pretty slut falling apart on my cock.”

“Sylus!” you cry out his name wantonly. 

Sylus growls, his hand slipping down to hike you thigh up a little higher before he starts pounding into you without abandon. 

“Where do you want it?” he hisses, his red eyes alight as he stares down at you. “My cum,” he clarifies when he sees the confusion in your cock-drunk gaze, “where do you want it?”

“Inside,” you whisper, body trembling with each thrust he delivers to your pussy, “fill me up, Sylus. Wanna feel it.”

“Little vixen,” Sylus snarls, kissing you roughly. You scream and squeal, the noises muffled every so often when he kisses you desperately, the coil of pleasure in your stomach curling tighter and tighter until it snaps.

You moan out his name, thighs twitching violently, nails digging into his back.

“ Hah- ” he rasps, peppering soft kisses along your jaw, “pussy’s gripping me so tight fuck- couldn’t pull out even if I tried.”

Sylus lets out a growly moan, his hand squeezing at your hip as he buries his face into the crook of your neck again. You can feel his cock twitching, his hips slowing to a stuttering stop as he cums, filling you up. Hot, thick cum floods your pussy and you whine softly, the sensation sending little aftershocks through your body. He shallowly fucks his cum into you, hips moving slowly before he slumps on top of you completely.

You push at his chest when his weight becomes too much. “Get off me, you brute.”

“Shut up,” Sylus murmurs, smacking your thigh lightly.

A smile spreads across your face when he lifts his head, his lips slotting over yours in a tender kiss. You make a noise of contentment, wrapping your arms around his neck, pecking his lips a few more times. 

Sylus grunts as he moves off of you, his softening cock slipping out of you. You wince at the feeling of his cum wetting your thighs and Sylus stares down at where his cum leaks out of you, the substance spilling out you thickly.

“Don’t look,” you whine, trying to snap your thighs shut.

Sylus doesn’t let you, grabbing one of your legs to kiss your ankle and then your knee. He presses soothing kisses to your inner thighs, thumbs apart your folds to watch his cum leak out of you again, landing a soft kiss to your clit every so often.

You roll your eyes, pushing at his head when he tries to suck your clit into his mouth, your pussy already oversensitive. He grins, moving towards you again and you cup his cheek, drawing him into a kiss.

-

A few hours later, you’re sitting in his lap.

You’d both showered together, exchanging lazy kisses under the hot water. Sylus had given you one of his shirts and a pair of his briefs and they were entirely too big, but you’d pulled them on anyways, his shirt smelling like him comfortingly. 

“Look,” Sylus says, pointing to the screen playing the recording of his match last night.

His large tv screen depicts your flushed face from when he’d reached for you, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Scoffing, you swat his chest and Sylus laughs, letting you hide your heated face in the crook of his neck.

“You look cute,” he murmurs, his hand rubbing and down your back. “Besides, how are you going to handle it when I kiss you in front of everyone?”

“I’m not going to handle it, because you’re not going to do that.”

“I will,” Sylus replies smoothly, slouching a little on his couch, “when I win the championship.”

“Don’t sound so sure,” you retort. You hate how straightforward he is.

Sylus’ eyes flutter shut when you run your fingers through his hair, a sigh escaping him.

“You should be more encouraging,” he says, petting your sides.

You smile faintly, tilting his head to kiss him. Sylus groans into your mouth, pulling you closer by the back of your neck until you’re making out sloppily, the sounds of fists colliding with skin playing on the tv behind you.

“Is- is that enough encouragement?” you ask breathily, pulling away with swollen lips.

Sylus stares up at you, his lips parted and hair messy and you think you might’ve taken that shower for nothing.

“Need a little more, baby,” he whispers, pulling you back.

He kisses you breathless, his hands slipping up under the shirt to feel your warm skin. You nuzzle into his cheek afterwards, looping your arms around his neck. He caresses your breasts idly, sometimes squeezing, other times simply grazing his thumbs over your areolas. 

A moment of silence passes before he’s speaking again.

“Kieran scratched your car.”

[hachiane]

a/n — needy sylus, fem!reader, established relationship, fluff, slightly suggestive (nothing sexual), modern!au sorta if you tried hard enough

count : 486 words

Sylus Qin — the type of boyfriend to come to your home unannounced after work keeps him up until ungodly hours of the day.

When he arrives, he texts you that he’s outside your door, whilst constantly knocking on your door that gets increasingly louder with every passing second as you scramble to get out of bed.

You finally answer the door and Sylus stands there, leaning on the door frame and towering over you, like he usually would. You can see the slight furrow in his eyebrows and the way his gaze unabashedly rakes over your form in your (regrettably thin) sleepwear, red irises never settled.

"You should be resting! It’s 2:30 in the morning!"

Sylus scoffs, "Must you push me away when I’ve come all the way here to see you?"

"Your knocking could have woken up my neighbours!"

"Tsk… And?" His gaze darkens.

"A-Anyway, we can meet later—"

"I can’t wait until later."

His frustration is clear when he grabs your wrist suddenly and drags you out of the door. It must have looked curious to anyone watching: a well-dressed Sylus in his professional two-piece, pulling you half-dressed down the well-lit hallway.

He pulls you into the stairwell, letting the door slam closed behind you. He sits on the steps and drags you unceremoniously onto his lap. His hand immediately finds their place, first on your hip, then dragging up the small of your back, pulling you closer to his chest. 

"Sylus! People can just walk in!"

"So? Let them."

Not another second wasted, his other hand comes up, fingers planting into your chin and pulling your face up to his, then slotting his lips onto yours. 

When Sylus kisses you, it could be one of two types of kisses. First, the chaste kind where you barely feel his lips touch yours, with him pulling just out of your reach and gifting you with his teasing smirk. 

You could immediately tell this is the other kind of kiss: the slow, deep, syrupy kind that has him keening lowly under his breath, as if whatever that’s been weighing on his mind is suddenly lifted -- growling like a starved lion finally savouring his meal. It has you losing all fight and melting into his embrace instead, engulfing you in the remnants of his musky cologne and hyper-focused on the way his lips melds with yours. As if he's mapping out every valley, crack and crevice of your lips, committing it to memory, satisfying his fill after craving for so long.

And when you pull away, you feel him chasing after your warmth, touching foreheads and stealing your share of air.

"Sylus...?"

Behind your closed eyes, you feel him chuckle low, as he drops his head and plants his chin on your shoulder. A ghost of a kiss greets your bare skin as you hear him whisper, "I just missed you so, so much, sweetie."

[gojosoups]

upcoming series (you can find my upcoming fics and drabbles here)

gojo satoru

Slipping Through My Fingers All The Time — gojo x reader, ft geto x reader

[found family, canon compliant | smut, angst angst angst, fluff] ➥ Again and again and again, you watched your friends, your family, slowly slipping through your fingers — losing themselves and each other. What was once your home, your everything, cracking at the seams, leaving your hands bruised and bloody as you struggle to piece it all back together.

Beautiful Beautiful Beautiful Boy — husband! gojo x wife! reader

[canon divergence | smut, angst, fluff] ➥ summary tba

Taste Me Too — best friends boyfriend! fwb! gojo x reader

[modern au | smut, angst, fluff] ➥ summary tba

Where Water Meets Land — childhood friend! gojo x reader

[arranged marriage au, royal au | smut, angst, fluff] ➥ summary tba

As Long As You'll Have Me — commander! gojo x general's daughter! strategist! reader

[arranged marriage au, military au | smut, angst, fluff] ➥ summary tba

poly satosugu

Take Me To Your Best Friends House, Normally We're Making Out — gojo x reader x geto

[canon divergence | smut, angst, fluff] ➥ You loved them then, you love them now, and you will spend the rest of your life loving them. It’s a sacrifice you're willing to make because there’s nothing more beautiful than being in love with Gojo and Geto. Or in which, you will forever be stuck in their orbit, never too close and never too far.

I Don't Know if I'm Gonna See You Again — gojo x reader x geto

[reincarnation au, smut, angst, fluff] ➥ "I love you," you say, choking on blood, hoping and praying that somehow he heard you. Laying on your back, you reach out to him, hissing as the gaping wound in your stomach stretches before your hand finds his cold one. You let yourself take one last look at your fiancé, at his peaceful expression and the smile on his lips, before closing your eyes and joining him. It won't be long before you reunite with Satoru, before the both of you reunite with Suguru again.

roymen sukuna

Ironic, Is It Not? (title in works)— heian era! sukuna x zenin! reader

[heian era| smut, angst, fluff] ➥ summary tba

eren yeager

We Found Each Other — rich boy! eren x reader

[modern au | smut, fluff] ➥ You were having, most possibly, the worst day of your life, but at least you met — more specifically, crashed into — a cute stranger who just so happened to be kind enough to pay for all damages, leaving you with the promise of a first date and your number in his phone.

sylus quin

We Were Made for More Than This (title in works) — mafia leader! sylus x pregnant widowed! reader

[mafia au, modern au | smut, angst, fluff] ➥ summary tba

a/n: super excited to share some of my future works.. let me know which one you guy's are excited for :) I'll have the series masterlist posted for some of these throughout next month

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐒 — do not copy, translate, repost or modify my works on any platform.

[sylusdoll]

self neglect results in confession

summary: modern day au, you and sylus are friends in the business industry, one day he visits you just to find out you haven’t eaten all day..

7:00am, your executive assistant opens the door for you, a chilly breeze hits you as you step out of the luxurious SUV, its sunday morning, its the day where you have a lot of work to do before the new week. you sigh, slight wind blowing your hair, you really dread sundays…

heals clicking as you walk into your building, inherited from your family, walking in you greet your employees and they greet you. settling into your office your executive assistant and the business chief following along

anything you would like to eat miss?

just a plum, please and thank you

are you sure thats all miss? you must eat a good breakfast

yes I’m sure, thank you

chief and executive both sigh, this is how you are on sundays.. thoughts only on work nothing else in mind.

11:00am, your executive assistant at the desk near you working on the things you asked him to, he sighs, you barely touched the perfectly cut up plums the chief handed to you, a few hours ago.. its absurd he thought, how could you work in such conditions.

miss, please forgive me for interrupting but please, finish your plums or eat something

you were so deep into your work, your mind tuned him out and you didn’t hear him, he sighs, once more and continues the task he’s responsible for. this is the norm, on sundays you’re technically fasting until you clock out.

it was now 7:00pm, youre almost done with your work, a lot of employees already finished their work for the day and clocked out, all the employees left in the building suddenly look at the automated doors suddenly opening revealing sylus, walking in casually, this is typical for sylus he’s always visiting on certain days of the week to see you, and perhaps check up on you.

your employees greet him, and one of your employees takes him to your office. your executive assistant walks out of your shared office, just to bump into sylus at your office door.

you look up at your door, your executive assistant walking back in, with sylus behind him.

you have a visitor miss

you look at sylus, his head slightly tilted to the side with a slight smile on his face.

thank you, you may leave now

sylus sits down one one of the chairs in front of your desk.

how have you been sweetie?

good, busy, you?

ive been better slightly shrugging

he carefully gazes at you, you look so focused, and a bit tired, your hair falling down your face ever slightly, your slightly furrowed brows, your slightly pouty lips, his eyes soften, you look angelic, to him you are genuinely the most beautiful woman he’s laid eyes on. the way you manage to look so perfect while running a business astonishing him.

did you eat today he asks eye brows raise a bit looking at the old plums sitting on your desk

before you could answer him, your stomach answers for you by growling. your face heats up, youve gotta be kidding me, you thought.

well sweet heart don’t tell me this all you ate today, he says standing up, picking up a dried plum from earlier

dont worry about it you say packing your things now that you’re finally done with work

don’t worry about it? you’re telling you never ate anything all day only.. these? he says fingers pointing at the plums.

ignoring his concern, you continue to organize and pack your things, he looks at you in disbelief.

sylus grabs your arm, stopping you from packing, you look at him, his brows are furrowed, he looks.. serious. you look back at him confused, you never seen him look that serious before.

you nervous laugh, dont worry sylus, ill eat when i get home, its just been a long day.

I’m taking you out to eat sweetie, and you don’t have a choice

8:00pm, you and sylus walk out of your building, not in the mood to argue with sylus and turn down a free meal, you agreed to eat out with him tonight letting your executive assistant know, sylus offered to take you home tonight.

the night sky and breeze was ever so beautiful, hair flowing in the wind, and sylus notices, he smiles to himself, at your ever lasting beauty.

sylus takes out his arm for you to hold, and you take it. its during times like this, that make you question what you and sylus really are. surely no ordinary friends lock arms with one another.

breaking your silence, what are we gonna eat? you say looking up at his tall figure. he looks down at you smiling, whatever the business princess wants. you look down immediately, you hate sylus, for being so casually flirty with you, your face hot, you hate the fact that it takes an affect on you, ignoring your thoughts, lets go to the city and check out the small businesses, you say sliding your hair back as if his flirting didn’t make you melt on the inside.

sylus stops in his tracks, do you think I’m broke or something?, you look back at him,, hmp maybe you say jokingly side eyeing him. internally laughing at face of disbelief he just made because you didn’t suggest a fancy expensive restaurant.

you both make it to his car, opening the door for you, his gaze intense at you, returning the gaze back at him, thank you.

8:30pm you both make it to the city, bunch of people walking around, food trucks, restaurants, shops all open and busy, the atmosphere is nice and welcoming. both of you now walking around the busy streets, see anything you wanna eat beautiful? sylus casually says, yea lets go there, you point to a noodle and sushi mini bar.

both of you now at the mini noodle and sushi bar, the workers greet you so heartily, they look at one another, they never seen two people as beautiful as both of you, finishing ordering your food, now its an awkward yet comfortable silence, your hands on the table, sylus takes this opportunity to grab your hands and play with your fingers gently, i cant believe you didn’t eat anything all day today he says looking at you, his head slightly tilted.. dont do that anymore sweetie.

you pull your hands back, your brows furrow, your heart confused. just now he acted like a lover whose concerned about you and it pissed you off for some reason. why do you care? sylus his name slips your tongue so smoothly. do you like me or something? you say thinking you would get him to stop or shut up if you put him on the spot.

hahaaa sylus laughs, your brows furrowed even more, i dont know maybe i do? he says looking you in the eyes, his face and body closer to the table than before, elbows on the table. its like he’s looking for an answer in your eyes. your heartbeat is now felt in your neck and your face is hot.

not knowing what to say, you were saved by the waiter bringing the food both of you ordered. you thank the waiter, ignoring syluses gaze and annoyance now that the waiter interrupted. both of you now eat in silence, your mind still thinking about what he said, your still hot and the hot noodle’s isn’t helping you cool down either.

9:30pm sylus pays the bill and now both of you walk out of the mini bar breeze hitting your face, this is just what you needed after what just happened. sylus is silent, for once he’s actually silent, but you follow him, to who knows where, walking along side him, lost in thought, both of you make it to a small lake, near the busy city, its dark and lights slightly seen from across the lake from another city.

the view and breeze tonight was beautiful, and very refreshing at the moment. sylus still silent, you look at him, as he’s looking at the lake in front, he’s handsome you thought, gazing at him for a moment, he finally turns to you, startling you a bit, enjoying the view? he jokes, you stay silent looking at him a little more now that he’s facing you, do you really like me? you finally break the silence, you swallow and tuck your hair behind your ear, turning your attention back to the lake in front of you, if you’re playing with me, you’re a cruel man, you finish.

grabbing the back of your head forcing you to face him once more, im not a cruel man,, well maybe i am, he laughs… but i do like you he says, he looks serious again he then holds one side of your cheek and part of your neck, your eyes widened, face heating up once more despite the surrounding breeze, sylus seeing your reaction he laughs, you’re still shocked, hot and flustered, still not saying a word, sylus takes your hand and kisses the front of your hand gently, you notice his hand is so big and warm compared to yours, he then pulls you out of your quick thoughts by biting your hand.

ow, you pull back. sylus???

hm, you going to accept my confession or what

you glare at him, holding your hand close to your chest.

cmon sweetie don’t look at me like that, he says crossing his arms

fine, you huff, ill accept your confession only if

..?

if you kiss where you just bit, putting your hand out for him

sylus rolls his eyes takes your hand and kisses it once more, then pulls you in for a hug. you hit his chest and he holds you tightly, his chin on your head, you hear his heart beating, and smell his scent, he smells good, and his embrace is warm and comforting, your face heats up realizing youre in his arms, you look up at him, still in the embrace, not one of you wanting to let go. sylus now looking down at you, grinning slightly, he takes his chance to kiss your cheek, how does a date friday night sound sweetheart he says slightly in your ear, holding you tighter now, sounds good, hiding your face in his chest.

©satroucat 2024 all rights reserved; pls do not translate, plagiarize, repost on other platforms.

[cheolaholic]

ring of love; csc (07)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

a/n;; im gonna be honest, i had no clue as to how im gonna write chapter 7 so i took a short break. that ended with me diving head first into love and deepspace which now has led me to a new obsession – Sylus. if you saw that post i made abt LNDS a few weeks ago, that has manifested into a side blog @chaeriescola where i’ll be posting my-non kpop related fics (read: Sylus & Zayne brainrot) also, i’m on Patreon now !! if you join my Patreon, you’ll get early access to the fics (a week early before they get posted on tumblr & ao3), exclusive bonus content, sneak peeks of other projects etc. if you’d like these special treats, feel free to join 👀 enough of me yapping, onto the fic~

Seungcheol wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting when he tasked Mingyu and Vernon to look after you – considering how they both absolutely suck at understanding the whole “look after ___ for me but, don’t let her catch you” concept. He’s seen them tail behind you, possibly raising concerns in some students and staff whether they were stalking you from the moment they spotted you.

coups: can’t you two be more discreet? coups: you both look like you’re the worst stalkers gameboi: ? tallgyu: I think we’re doing a good job alien-non: yea, she hasn’t noticed us gameboi: you really got Mingyu and Hansol to tail after ___? gameboi: no offense to all 3 of you gameboi: but Hansol’s logic is practically gone if Mingyu’s leading tallgyu: HEY alien-non: I suggested we wear disguises but Mingyu didn’t want to! tallgyu: those weirdly shaped sunglasses are way too obvious coups: what you’re doing now is way more obvious! tallgyu: she hasn’t noticed us tallgyu: it’s fine hyung coups: Vernon alien-non: yes coups: you know how aware ___ is of her surroundings coups: she’s probably already spotted you both gameboi: but chose not to say anything

As if on cue, when they both turned a corner, they were both startled to come face-to-face with you, arms crossed, staring right at them.

“You’ve both been following me for the past hours, can I help you?” you ask, eyes narrowing when they both exchange a look.

“Well…” Mingyu started, “We… We just wanted to make sure you didn’t get lost…?”

Vernon mentally facepalms at Mingyu’s response while you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, “To make sure I wouldn’t get lost…? On a campus I’ve been attending for at least 2 years…?”

“Seungcheol hyung wanted us to look after you,” Vernon confesses, “I don’t know why, but he just told us to keep an eye on you.”

“And, so, you’ve decided to follow me around?”

“Mingyu was the one who suggested it…”

“You both would make terrible secret agents…” Seungcheol mumbled as he came up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he sent glares to the two younger males. “Cheol, I’m a big girl now – I can handle myself!”

“I know, I know,” he admits, “And, I’m sorry, pup-”

“Pup? You call her ‘pup’?” Your ears burned red at Mingyu’s question, forgetting that not everyone grew up with you and Seungcheol or knowing the reason that he calls you that.

“It’s a nickname I gave her while we were growing up,” Seungcheol answers, “And, it stuck with her since.”

“She grew up with you? Oh, you poor thing,” Mingyu faked cries as he pulls you into an embrace, “He must’ve picked on you non-stop.”

“Actually, he didn’t pick on me.” The taller male pulls away, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your answer. “He stood for me and may or may not have threatened the people that did pick on me.” He looks at Seungcheol with a look of betrayal, “That’s not fair! Why does she get special treatment while you keep picking on me!?”

Seungcheol pries Mingyu away from you, his arm returning to its position on your waist as he answers, “Because you’re Mingyu, and she’s… she’s ___.”

‘Well… this is… awkward…’ you thought to yourself as you sat in front of Wonwoo, one of the other boys you had briefly met that night. Seungcheol suggested you meet the three of them altogether, mainly Mingyu and Wonwoo since you were already best friends with Vernon, to somewhat break the ice.

‘Choi Seungcheol, you ass, this is anything but breaking the ice! If anything, this is increasing the freezing point of the ice!’

Unfortunately, Seungcheol’s plan of grabbing lunch together is now facing a setback. You had no classes that day, Wonwoo finished his, but Seungcheol, Mingyu and Vernon were being held back for their classes.

“Seungcheol, I’ve only met him once!” you whisper-shouted into your phone, “And, neither of us exchanged a single conversation since!”

“I know, I know,” Seungcheol answers, wracking his head to come up with solutions, “But, this lecturer is talking so slow that I have no choice!”

“What about Vernon and Mingyu?”

A sigh was heard, “Apparently, the model was being fussy about how she should be posing for their portrait. The lecturer needed her to be partially clothed, but since Mingyu was in the class… You can fill in the blanks…”

You let out a sigh, looking into the windows of the cafe as Wonwoo sits at a booth near the pick-up counter, “How much longer until you all are able to get here?”

“Probably an hour… And another 20 minutes to get there. Hey, you and Wonwoo both like drinking coffee and are introverts! Maybe you both can try talking to break the ice.”

Oh, boy, did Seungcheol underestimate the introversion you and Wonwoo possess. You had initially tried to have small talk with him, only to chicken out when he looked at you with that piercing gaze through his glasses. It’s been half an hour since you sat down at the booth with him, your strawberry milkshake sitting on a coaster as he goes to order possibly his third cup of cappuccino.

When he returns with his drink, you can’t help but ask, “Isn’t that… too much caffeine…?”

Wonwoo seemed a bit taken back when you finally opened your mouth to talk, but he recovers quickly and shrugs, “Honestly, after drinking caffeine for years, you kind of grow immune to it. You should’ve seen Mingyu’s reaction when he found me sleeping after downing 5 cans of Monster.”

“Five!?”

“Yes, five.”

“And, you were still able to sleep?”

“Like a baby.”

Wonwoo was surprisingly easy to talk to – you just needed to get over your social anxiety and the very intimidating resting bitch face he has. You’ve come to learn that the man in front of you was GAM3BO1WOO, a famous game streamer on SVTwitch. You’ve seen a few of his stream clips on your feed, but you weren’t exactly a fan of his since his taste in games and yours were vastly different.

“Do you play every new game release?” you asked, scrolling through his MAESTRO account and skimming through his posts.

“It depends, actually. If a new game really catches my eye, then I’ll download it. Other than that, either the companies sponsored me to stream their games, my followers keep requesting that I play the game they think would suit me or want to see me play. Sometimes, Mingyu and Cheol would gift me co-op games since a lot of them have the mechanic of if one player already owns the game, the second player plays for free.”

“Have you ever hopped on trends?”

“It drives traffic and increases my followers, can’t really complain.”

You’re not sure how long you’ve been conversing with Wonwoo. But, it was definitely long enough for neither of you to notice the three men standing right outside the window, watching you two fondly and surprised. “They’re… talking…” Mingyu says in awe, a chuckle from Seungcheol following afterwards, “Nice to know two of our introverts are getting along just fine.”

You noticed them from the corner of your eyes, turning to the window, Wonwoo following to look at them. You smiled, giving them a small wave which they returned while the latter gave a small nod of his head.

“Sorry for keeping the two of you waiting,” Seungcheol apologised the second he got to the booth, taking a seat next to you. Mingyu and Vernon took their seats next to Wonwoo after placing their orders at the counter. “Aren’t you going to get anything?” you asked the older male, looking up at him as you took a sip from your milkshake.

“I’m assuming you’re waiting for me so you can order some kind of snack which we either share or I finish the remaining you can’t.” When you don’t answer and avert his gaze, Seungcheol knows he caught you red-handed. He chuckles as he gets out of the booth and towards the counter, which unfortunately for you, leads to an interrogation by the other three boys – technically, it was mainly Mingyu with the occasional questioning from Vernon. Wonwoo just sits quietly, listening in as his eyes would dart between you, your two ‘interrogators’ and Seungcheol who was still lining up.

The two men asked you the questions you’d expect.

“How old were you when you met Seungcheol hyung?”

“I think… I think I was 5? He should be about 7 or 8?”

“What did he look like back then? Did he look like a nerd?”

“Well, he had the signature bowl kid every boy got when they were kids or teens.”

“Was he scary?”

“Kind of? Not a lot of people messed with me because of how protective he was over me.”

“Mess with little red riding hood, the big bad wolf will come and get you.”

All attention was on Seungcheol as he placed a plate of strawberry cake and a plate of a dozen brownies on the table, returning to his seat right next to you. Noticing the stunned expressions from his peers, he shrugs, “That was what they’d always say to anyone trying to approach her with ill intentions. It’s basically their way of saying ‘if you don’t want trouble, don’t go looking for trouble’.”

An easier way to put it was – if you don’t want to deal with an angry Seungcheol, don’t bother his girl. Your heart still flutters at how some people referred to you as ‘his girl’, but you knew that actually being his girl was nothing more than a dream to you. “By the way hyung, when’s your next fight? Maybe ___ could come and help out, y’know?” Vernon asks, reaching out to grab a brownie only for his hand to be lightly slapped by Seungcheol. “Ow! What was that for!?”

“If you want them, go get them yourselves,” the older male answers, pushing the plate of brownies towards you. “These are for ___. If you want one, go get one yourself.” Your face heats up at the gesture, and heats up further when the three males turn to you. “Why does she get special treatment?” Mingyu whines, “And how can she possibly finish that entire plate?”

Seungcheol pats your head as he answers, “Because she’s ___. And, yes, she can. If she can’t, I’ll finish it.”

“Can we have a piece if you’re the one finishing it up?”

“No, get your own.”

“Ah, hyung!”

You’ve managed to bond with Wonwoo and Mingyu, becoming close with them in a matter of days and now, you’ve got four ‘bodyguards’ walking around with you (Mingyu refers to them as that, the others and you just play along). The downside that comes with the friendship would be a flock of envious fangirls (and occasionally fanboys) who had begun to buzz around you like moths attracted to light.

“How did you become friends with Wonwoo? Could you ask him to shout me out on his streams or MAESTRO account?”

“Is Mingyu single? Could you introduce me to him?”

“Would you like to be friends? I’d love to be friends with the boys!”

Both boys could see you were tired of the clout chasers, especially Wonwoo since he knows you value your personal space. Both men had taken the issue to their social media, expressing how they’d appreciate it if their ‘fans’ stopped bugging their friends and loved ones in an attempt to get close with them. You remembered when both of them addressed the issue on Wonwoo’s stream, the sternness in both their voices still sent shivers down your spine.

“We understand that you may think you know us as we both are content creators and certain information has been released about us online. While we may not be able to put an end to the parasocial relationship that you have built with us, we do not know you and you do not know us. Do not harass our friends and loved ones, and if your unhealthy obsession of us persists, please seek help.”

That was enough for a majority of the fanboys/fangirls to back off. Some still linger, but they were no longer up close and in your face bombarding you with questions or requests.

Currently, Wonwoo, Mingyu and Vernon sat in a discussion room within the library as they waited for Seungcheol and you. It was a small meet-up, but it could also be treated as a short co-working/co-studying meet-up. Your class was ending later than usual and Seungcheol offered to wait for you so both of you could walk to the library.

Beauty and the Beasts

mingoo: @princess how much longer is the lecture gonna take?

princess: erm… another 15 mins?

princess: …

princess: who set my nickname as princess in the gc?

All four boys replied altogether and you playfully rolled your eyes.

mingoo: coups hyung

vernonnie: cheol hyung

nonu: seungcheol

cheol: i did

cheol: i got you your coffee order btw

mingoo: what about us?

cheol: you lot already got your orders before you headed to the library

mingoo: i’m assuming you got her snacks too

cheol: yes

cheol: and they’re only for ___

cheol: so don’t try to steal them

Mingyu lets out a groan as he lays his upper body on the table. “It’s not fair,” he whines, “Why does Seungcheol hyung give ___ special treatment? Is it because she’s a girl?” Vernon shrugs, “Maybe? But, he’s treated his exes the same way, too.”

“Yeah, I know that, Vernon. But, isn’t there something different?”

Mingyu sits up as he looks at Vernon, his words seeming to be hinting at something as the younger male sits in silence. “It’s like he’s more attentive, more caring. Like, he was caring before to the other girls, but there’s this extra layer to it, y’know?”

“He means there’s more than meets the eye,” Wonwoo says, “I think what Mingyu’s trying to say is that Seungcheol is whipped for ___.”

“Yes!” Mingyu exclaims, pointing at Wonwoo with a puppy-like grin on his face, “But, also no? I don’t know! They grew up together so maybe it’s like a habit he has or a sense of responsibility he feels?”

“But, who would want to call their childhood best friend who is now an adult ‘pup’?” Vernon questions, and Wonwoo tips his pencil in the younger male’s direction, “Precisely. Everyone would grow out of it, much less a nickname like that. Hell, would you call any of your friends that kind of name as an adult?”

Mingyu hums in understanding. All three of them knew just how shameless Seungcheol could be sometimes. Vernon bites back a gag when he recalls accidentally witnessing Seungcheol and his then girlfriend making out in his car, in the campus’ parking lot - in broad daylight. He pitied his therapist who had to listen to him ramble on and on about suspecting the older male having an exhibitionist kink.

“So, you really think he’s whipped for her?”

“Seungcheol barely remembers your favourite cake, but he remembers ___’s coffee order.”

“He probably has it written down somewhere?”

“I beg to differ,” Vernon speaks up.

He joined Seungcheol to get coffee a few weeks ago. While Seungcheol was ordering his, you had texted Vernon saying your Business Module class had completely drained you and you were in need of a quick pick me up. All he did was say, “___ wants us to help get her coffee,” and Seungcheol began reciting your order to the barista without a second thought.

“He knew it like the back of his hand! Not a single thing was missed out!”

As Mingyu and Vernon continue to discuss Seungcheol's love life, Wonwoo glances down at his phone as it vibrates, a notification from you. Opening up the text app on his laptop, he types out his reply.

___: hey woo?

___: is it ok if i call you that-

wonwoo: yes?

wonwoo: n yes, perfectly fine

___: ok

___: um, so the class im in rn, we’re almost done btw!

___: they need me to write some kind of paper abt how psychology n business work

___: n since you’re a psych major

wonwoo: you need my help, yes?

___: bingo

___: is it possible for you to help me?

wonwoo: sure thing

wonwoo: why don’t you go over the details with me once you’re out of class?

wonwoo: we’ve booked the discussion room for the entire day

___: don’t the others have class?

Wonwoo can feel Mingyu and Vernon standing behind him as they “observe” his conversation with you. “Oooh, you’re texting his girl~” Mingyu teases, earning a glare from the older male that shuts him up immediately. “She needs help with her coursework and I have relevant information that can help her,” he replies as he resumes to type out his reply.

wonwoo: seungcheol only has one class today iirc

wonwoo: gyu and vernon have some kind of workshop in an hour

___: oh, cool!

___: then i can also get cheollie’s opinion

“Do you think they have a thing for each other?” Vernon asks, seemingly picking up on certain signs just from the text Wonwoo had just exchanged with you.

“Who? Seungcheol hyung and ___?” Mingyu asks back and he nods. The taller male thinks for a while, recalling the times that he’s seen any form of interaction or exchanged conversation the pair have shared. “Maybe? But, there weren’t any obvious signs that explicitly showed that Seungcheol or ___ like the other.”

“Well, there is a saying that love is in plain sight. Or that whole “you were hiding in plain sight” trend that was going around CIRCLES a few months ago.”

“Should we play cupid?”

“I think it’d be best if we don’t interfere with their love life.”

Wonwoo had a point. While their curiosity was gnawing away, the last thing they’d wanna do is accidentally driving a wedge between you and Seungcheol. It would be worse if they were reading the room wrong and neither of you were harbouring any feelings for the other. “But, that doesn’t mean we can’t find some clues to answer our hypothesis.”

Mingyu and Vernon looked at the older male who was still typing on his laptop. “Are we conducting experiments on them now?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way. I’d say it’s more of observing their interactions with each other.”

“We’ll leave the psychology part to the psych major.”

“If this ends up being your thesis paper, Woo, we’d better be given credits.”

Later that night…

gyu created the group Operation Cupid 💘

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwooo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetner @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnothelastofus @yearnoclock @kwonhoeshi @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ru-lin @deobiforever @belladaises @cheoliekkuma @duskunt1ldawn @hyneyedfiz @marshmallowshouse @ak6ko @chwevernonlover @jejuboo-s @tsukinluv @atinytinaa @gyros-cum-sock @soupbinlily @jungwoos-luvr @ener-energy @watermelon-sugars-things @cyberpunkhwx @ddaengpotate @nightwingsrobbinhoods @chaerrylov3r @joshuaahong @wonussmile @uliceeeeeeee @wonwoo24 @shinetogether17 @simplejihoon @luvkpopp @shingbangyes @black-swan-blog27 @minhui896

[httqvi]

SYLUS. ꒰ masterlist. ꒱

CATEGORIES: sfw & nsfw oneshots, drabbles, imagines, headcannons, smaus

LABELLING: ‹3 a favorite, 𖥻 shed tears

[ SFW — ONESHOTS ]

jealousy incarnate by chuluoyi

— 3.8k words. 18+ suggestive content, minors do not interact, jealousy, crack, fluff, smut, a dash of comfort, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc).

pretty bird by snowballseal

— 2.1k words. sylus is jealous of you giving mephisto attention. that's it. you tease him when you find out.

little dino ‹3 by starmocha

— 2.5k words. sylus + daughter. sylus has a little dinosaur problem.

[ NSFW — ONESHOTS ]

highest bidder by ramonathinks

— 5.3k words. 18+ virginity loss, soft sex, small plot but not really, pet names, slight? knife play, oral, she/her pronouns, choking, finger sucking, praise, dumbification, degradation, slight fingering, corruption kink( if you squint), female guided masturbation (? kinda? idk!), squirting, attempt at aftercare, the twins have a cameo.

the sin and the sinner. (part 1) ‹3 by saintobio

— 8.2k words. sylus x villain!reader, angst, smut, boss/assistant, 18+, reader works for onychinus, reader is not l&ds!mc, set in the N109 zone, unrequited love, profanity, petnames (kitten, baby doll, darling, sweetie), unprotected sex, throatfucking (m!receiving), cunnilingus (f!receiving), cum-eating, slight dom/sub play, spitting, hair-pulling, spanking, biting, choking, overstimulation, bondage, blindfolding, lots of jealousy, possessiveness, yandere themes, stalking, blood, violence, usage of guns, allusions to prostitution, killings, death, *coughs* that one harley+joker scene.

𖥻 the conquered and the conquerer. (part 2) ‹3 by saintobio

— 10.4k words. sylus x villain!reader, angst, smut, boss/assistant, 18+, villain!reader, reader previously works for onychinus, reader is not l&ds!mc, sylus is a little ooc, main story spoilers, melodic weave spoilers, lots of timeskip, fast-paced, lore heavy, unrequited love, profanity, petnames (kitten, sweetie), explicit smut, cunnilingus (f!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, espionage, reader smoking, reckless driving, violence, spitting, choking, jealousy, usage of guns, suicide (or attempts thereof), death, and a twist in the end i can’t reveal.

𖥻 the loved and the lost. (part 3) ‹3 by saintobio

— 9.5k words. sylus x villain!reader, angst, smut, boss/assistant, 18+, sylus's pov, reader is not l&ds!mc, sylus might be ooc, main story spoilers, razor's dance spoilers, nightplumes spoilers, lots of timeskip, fast-paced, unrequited love, profanity, petnames (kitten, sweetie), espionage, jealousy, brief smut, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation kink, mentions of accidents, suicide attempt, injuries, blood, usage of guns, usage of knife, killings, death, my own theories incorporated into the lore, sylus groveling bcos yall want him to.

a practical demonstration by janumun

— 9.8k words. sylus x f!reader, size difference, oral and vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex, mild mentions of stalking (not sylus or mephisto for once lol), inexperienced (not virgin) reader, edging, drinking, [im]proper use of evol, explicit sexual content.

red tape by sugartheplum

— 8.8k words. mma fighter!sylus x manager!reader, nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, modern au, smut, vaginal fingering, kissing, dirty talk, oral sex - m! and f!receiving, praise kink, p in v, masturbation, size difference, size kink, mild choking.

[ IMAGINES & DRABBLES ]

— 08/02/24; 11:33pm by jinwoosungs (nsfw)

— cockwarming you by takeaslicex (nsfw)

— fluffy pjs by mrs-kurooo (sfw, fluff)

— sleepy affection by snowballseal (sfw, fluff)

— bane of existence by chuluoyi (sfw, suggestive)

— more than luxury by connorsui (sfw, fluff)

— stargazing in your eyes by connorsui (sfw, fluff)

— emotional support by sushiyuzu (sfw, fluff)

[ HEADCANNONS ]

— how clingy sylus copes with your absence by matsunolvr (sfw, fluff)

— ex-husband!sylus ‹3 by plutotheplum (nsfw)

[ SMAUS ]

© httqvi, 2024.

[annerly-san]

Love and Deep Deadlines | A LaDS Corporate AU - Chapter 5

Summary:

Amidst the cut throat culture of Onyxion Enterprises where cutting-edge innovation is overshadowed by corporate chaos, no one talks about how hard it is to be an intern.

Alongside Caleb, the sales department smooth-talker; Zayne, the cold and unflappable CTO; Xavier, a director who might as well be an intern himself; and Rafayel, the overly dramatic Creative Director who brings his own flair to every meltdown, our intern is just trying to survive the workday. Oh, and don’t forget Onyxion’s very own CEO, Sylus, a walking HR violation who gets off on terrorizing his employees.

In this company, will love bloom before the deadlines run deep, or will the company go under first?

Chapter Navigation: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | ?

Alternative AO3 link:

The buzz around the Aethercore was undeniable.  The interview with Zayne had gone far better than I could have hoped, and ever since then, whispers about the new technology had echoed through the office halls.  My inbox was filled with emails about presentations and marketing collateral that needed to be finalized.  There was a lot to do, but I liked the pace—it kept my mind from wandering into less comfortable thoughts, like how my internship was nearing its end, or the growing sense of uncertainty about my future here at Onyxion.

I’d been working in one of the open creative spaces on the sixth floor, a bright, modern area designed for collaboration.  It was my new favorite spot—close enough to the marketing department but far enough from the constant hum of the main office to do work in peace.  The smell of fresh coffee wafted through the air, and the quiet chatter from nearby desks made it feel more like a café than a corporate building.  I liked that.

Today, I was deep into building the slides for the sales team’s upcoming pitch on one of the new Aethercore application projects.  They were expecting something sleek, cutting-edge, and polished enough to impress even the most skeptical customers.  I sipped my iced coffee, fingers dancing in rhythm to the clacking of the keyboard as I wrote out various value propositions and tweaked design elements on the slides to make a compelling slidedeck.

"That’s nice," a voice said from behind, startling me.

I turned to see a man leaning casually against the desk next to mine.  His clothes were effortlessly stylish, and there was an air of playfulness in the way he tilted his head, studying the slide on my screen. His short purple hair framed his face in a curtain-cut similar to that of the pop stars that I watched on screen.  His eyes gleamed with curiosity.

"Oh, uh, thanks!" I said, quickly recovering from the surprise. "Just trying to get this presentation ready for the sales team. We’re gearing up for the Aethercore launch."

His gaze lingered on the screen for a moment before he walked over, sitting on the edge of the table.  He studied my work with a faint smile, but his posture remained completely relaxed, like he belonged here.

“You know,” he began, gesturing vaguely at the slide, “you might want to add a bit more contrast between the text and the background.  It’ll make it easier for people to read without squinting. And maybe try using a bolder font for the headers—just so there’s enough contrast between that and the subheader text.”

I blinked, considering his suggestions.  “That’s... a great idea!”  I quickly made those changes and saw how it really elevated the overall slide deck and message.  “Thanks for those suggestions!” I beamed.

He gave a small chuckle, pleased.  “Of course it is. Are you presenting this, or is it for someone else?”

I laughed.  “Oh, I’m just an intern, so I’m not presenting it.  Caleb—uh, one of our sales leads—is going to present it next week.”

He chuckled as he leaned in a little, eyes twinkling. “Oh, Xia?  I know him.  He’s good.  Tell him to make his own slides next time, why bother the poor intern?”

I shook my head and let out a polite grin.  “I’m in the marketing department, so I work with Sales.  This is one of my jobs and I don’t mind helping Caleb out.”

The man let out a resigned sigh as he threw his hands up in defeat.  “Well, if you say so, I guess that’s how it is.  If you ever need any more tips though, I’ve got plenty of those. Especially for someone working so hard on something so important.  That’s also part of my job I guess…”

I tilted my head, intrigued. “Thanks!  I appreciate it!  Are you in marketing?”

His smile widened, but he didn’t answer directly. “Let’s just say I dabble in the creative side of things.” He stood up smoothly, as if ready to make his exit, but paused. “If you ever need help with graphics or design, feel free to stop by my office. I’m always happy to lend a hand.”

Excited that I might have found a new friend and coworker, I couldn’t help the wide smile on my face as I asked, “I might take you up on that. What’s your name?”

“Rafayel,” he said with a wink. “Just ask around. People will know where to find me.”

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed with a meeting reminder. “I’ve got to run,” I said, grabbing my laptop. “But thanks again for the advice, Rafayel.”

He gave me a playful salute before walking off with an air of mystery, and I couldn’t help but feel like I’d just met someone... eccentric.

“Oh, you met Rafayel?”  The barely concealed glee in Caleb’s voice made me frown as we stared at each other in the meeting room.

I crossed my arms and glared at him, already regretting that I’d mentioned meeting someone new at work.  “Yes?  And-?”

Caleb bit his lip as he was barely able to make out his next few words without laughing too much.  “D-Did you ask him to be friends with you too?”

“Hey!!”  I grabbed my pen and threw it at him from across the conference table.  “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

By the time Caleb managed to stop laughing long enough to get the point across, I had already pulled up Rafayel’s name in the organizational chart.

‘Rafayel Qi - Creative Director’

My jaw dropped as Caleb burst out laughing again. “Man! How do you keep running into all these directors so casually, pipsqueak?” he cackled, kicking his feet up onto the table. “That’s some real talent right there! Talk about getting your network early—”

The notebook I threw hit its mark.  “Owowowow! Ok, ok!” Despite the direct hit, Caleb still wore that stupid grin. “I’ll report you to HR for sales guy abuse!”

“Pft, like anyone in HR would believe you!” I shot back, rolling my eyes as I stood up to retrieve my notebook. “That’s rich coming from the guy who has a monthly meeting with HR because you don’t understand that sending memes to half the company is not ‘professional communication.’”

“Whaaat? No idea what you’re talking about, pipsqueak. I’m just trying to make things fun around here. Can’t help it if some people don’t have a sense of humor.” Caleb whistled innocently, typing away on his laptop as if last week he hadn’t just ‘Reply All-ed’ to the Sales & Marketing newsletter, telling everyone to direct customer inquiries to Zayne’s personal cell number.

“Yeah, sure, Mr. ‘Culture Enhancer.’” I muttered, shaking my head. “You’re like a walking HR-violation.”

Caleb clutched his chest dramatically. “Wow! That’s harsh! But listen, you haven’t even met a real walking HR-violation yet, so don’t throw around such accusations!”

“Oh really? Who’s worse than you?” I challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Without missing a beat, Caleb’s voice dropped into a mock-serious tone. “SYLUS.”

I frowned, feeling a strange twinge in my chest.  “WHAT?  OUR CEO!?  DON'T EVEN START COMPARING YOURSELF TO HIM, YOU’RE NOWHERE NEAR HIS LEAGUE!  HE'S A GREAT GUY!” I shot back without hesitation.  The words flew out of my mouth faster than I’d expected. I could feel my face heating up as he blinked in shock at me. 

Caleb stood straight up, his chair clattering to the floor. “EXCUSE ME, PIPSQUEAK???” He looked genuinely scandalized. “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!?!?”

“YOU HEARD ME! I SAID WHAT I SAID! DON'T DISRESPECT SYLUS LIKE THAT!”

“I SHOULD BE THE ONE OFFENDED! HOW IN THE WORLD IS SYLUS A GREAT GUY?! EXPLAIN YOURSELF!”

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling self-conscious about how strongly I had reacted.  What was that? Why was I defending Sylus so adamantly?  Aside from seeing him in the news and on the screen in formal events, I didn’t know him at all to be arguing with Caleb on his behalf.

“AREN’T WE SUPPOSED TO BE GOING OVER THE PRESENTATION? THEY’RE GONNA KICK US OUT OF THE CONFERENCE ROOM!” I waved my hands toward the slide deck.

“OK FINE!!” Caleb dropped back into his seat, still clearly flabbergasted but reluctantly pulling up the presentation. “But we’re not done talking about this!”

A few moments passed by in awkward silence between us as Caleb started flipping through the slides.

I waited with bated breath as the projector showed him clicking through everything-- my work getting scrutinized under his eyes for the first time.

“This deck’s looking sharp, pipsqueak,” he stated proudly, nodding with approval.  “You’ve really nailed the messaging here.”

I smiled, feeling a little more at ease. “Thanks. I just hope it’s good enough for the customers.”

“Good enough?” Caleb raised an eyebrow, spinning his chair to face me fully. “This is more than good enough.  It’s killer.  The audience will eat this up.  You’re making me look like a rockstar.”  He winked, but there was something genuine in his voice, like he wanted me to know that I’d done well.

I gave a small laugh, brushing off the compliment.  “Hey, that’s what I’m here for.  I just hope that it’ll be enough for you when you get up there.”

He leaned forward, folding his hands on the table, his usual playful expression replaced with something a little more serious. “Don’t sell yourself short, pipsqueak. You’ve got a talent for this.”

His words warmed me, but the knot of anxiety in my stomach still wouldn’t unravel.  Caleb was a master at sales, so if he said that the presentation was solid-- then sure-- it would be fine.

But I couldn’t shake the pressure of knowing how much was riding on this.

This was a very large customer-facing sales presentation.  The slides were practically finished, but every time I thought about it, my stomach flipped.  Sure-- Caleb would be the one presenting, but my work was going to be on full display.  The thought of having my work so visible to the larger organization was exciting, but also terrifying.

It felt like a double-edged sword. If it went well, maybe I could turn this internship into something more permanent. If not, well...

I must’ve drifted off into my thoughts because Caleb suddenly nudged my arm with the back of his hand. “Hey, earth to pipsqueak. You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied, forcing a smile.

Caleb stared at me with a strange look on his face, and I knew that there was something he wanted to say to me, but he seemed to decide against it.

“Ok,” he said calmly as he started to type up speaker notes on the file.  “If you say so.”

We spent the next hour going over every detail, fine-tuning the flow of the presentation until Caleb could practically recite it in his sleep. His usual goofy demeanor gave way to his professional side as we worked through each point, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride watching him in his element. He really was good at this.

By the time we wrapped up, I felt a little more confident in the work we’d done. The presentation was solid, and Caleb had a way of making everything seem like it was going to be okay.

As Caleb shut his laptop and stood up to leave, he paused by the door, glancing back at me. “Don’t stress too much, pipsqueak.  These slides you made for me are great, and this is going to go super well.  I know it.”

I gave him a small smile, appreciating his faith in me more than I could say. “Thanks, Caleb.”

“Anytime.” He gave me a two-finger salute before heading out. “Now let’s go show these people what’s coming for them.”

The day of the presentation came sooner than I expected.

The room was buzzing with energy as Caleb started the presentation. He moved confidently from slide to slide, his voice commanding the attention of every client in the room. I sat quietly off to the side, fingers nervously clutching the edge of my notebook, hoping everything would go as planned. Caleb had rehearsed well, and the smoothness of his delivery was testament to his natural talent for this kind of thing.

“And now,” Caleb said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I want to take a moment to thank someone who was instrumental in making this presentation the success that it is.” His gaze flicked toward me, and I felt my heart drop into my stomach.

Oh no.

He wouldn’t.

Caleb called out my name, and in an instant, the entire room seemed to shift. All eyes turned toward me, and I could feel the weight of their attention like a tidal wave crashing over me.  The sudden recognition caused my heartbeat to thunder loudly in my ears.  “She’s an intern in the product marketing group,” he continued, “who worked tirelessly to design these slides and make sure everything looked as polished as it does.  Couldn’t have done it without her.”

Heat rushed to my face as Caleb gestured toward me. A wave of applause followed, the sound ringing in my ears as I glanced around the room, overwhelmed by the sudden attention.  I forced a smile, trying to stay composed, but my heart raced frantically.

My coworkers who attended the meeting with me were cheering and giving me encouraging pats on the back, and I felt the rushing emotions of joy, embarrassment, and pride run through me.

I’ll give Caleb an earful later.

As the applause echoed, something strange caught my attention—a gaze that felt sharper, more intense than the rest.  A strange sensation crawled up my spine, and I instinctively scanned the room. The source of that intense gaze felt almost magnetic, and when I found him, my heart skipped a beat.  Toward the back, just barely visible, I caught a glimpse of a tall man seated at the edge of the crowd.  His broad shoulders filled out a deep red velvet suit jacket he wore, sharp in contrast against the sleek black of his fitted trousers.  His silver hair glowed under the dim lights, stark against the sea of black and blue dress wear—like a full moon hanging in the night sky.  However, the most noteworthy feature was that he wore sunglasses, indoors, no less.  His lips were curved up in a slow, deliberate smile as he clapped—once, and then twice, almost lazily.

My breath hitched. That… that looked like Sylus.

I blinked, shaking my head as the applause continued around me.  No way. I pushed the thought aside.  There was absolutely no way Sylus would be at a sales presentation like this. CEOs didn’t just show up for routine meetings, right?  And yet, as I glanced back at the man, that same chilling smile remained.

For a moment in time, the applause and attention from the crowd around me seemed to disappear into the distance as I locked eyes with the strange man.

But before I could dwell on it further, Caleb’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Her contribution really made this all come together. Thanks to her, we’re confident this will resonate with our clients and really push the frontier of this new Aethercore technology forward!”  He shot me a quick wink before turning his attention back to the crowd.

The rest of the presentation continued seamlessly, Caleb’s charisma pulling the room back in for the Q&A section, but I couldn’t shake the eerie sensation that I was being watched.  As Caleb wrapped up, the room erupted into applause again, louder this time.

I risked a glance toward the back, but the seat where the man had been sitting was empty. My stomach twisted with unease.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed as I sat there, but I was brought back to my senses as Caleb came back to my side, nudging me with his elbow.  “See? Told you they’d eat it up. You killed it out there.”

I hit him in the shoulder, trying not to smile-- but failing terribly, as I chided him for calling me out in his presentation.

The unsettling thoughts from earlier had vanished to the back corner of my mind.

“And hey,” he added, his voice dropping to a softer tone, “after that? You’re definitely on their radar. You’ve more than earned that full-time spot.”

“How did-?

Caleb laughed as he ruffled my hair.  “I always know, pipsqueak.  It’s written all over your face.”

After the presentation, the energy in the room was palpable. As I made my way back to my team, several people congratulated me with smiles, pats on the back, and even a few thumbs-up. I smiled, still a little dazed from the overwhelming attention, but their support helped ground me again.

When I finally reached Caleb, he was leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed and a proud grin on his face. “Told you. Rockstar status achieved.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t suppress my grin. “Alright, alright. But seriously, did you have to call me out like that in front of everyone?”

“Of course!” Caleb said with a laugh, standing up and throwing an arm around my shoulders. “If I didn’t give credit where it’s due, what kind of brother would I be? Besides,” he winked, “you deserved it.”

We gathered our things as the day wound down, and after a few more congratulatory handshakes, Caleb and I left the office.

The evening air was cool as we walked to his car, our footsteps echoing in the mostly empty parking lot.

“You know,” I said, glancing at him, “I’m still mad you called me out like that.”

Caleb smirked. “Oh come on, pipsqueak, it was the highlight of the day! Besides, you killed it.” He shot me a sideways glance. “You looked like you were about to pass out, though.”

“I did not!” I protested, elbowing him in the side.

He chuckled. “Okay, okay, maybe not pass out, but you were definitely red as a tomato.”

As we got into the car, my phone buzzed. A quick glance told me it was a text from Zayne.

[Zayne]:  Hey, just wanted to say you did a really good job today. Presentation was solid. Don’t let Caleb take all the credit.

I smiled, feeling a bit of warmth at the message.

[Zayne] (to Caleb):  Congrats on not completely messing it up, Caleb. Small miracles, huh?

I stifled a laugh as Caleb’s phone buzzed at the same time.  He glanced at it, rolled his eyes, and muttered, “He just can’t help himself.”

As Caleb drove the both of us home, I couldn't help but feel satisfied with the weeks of hard effort the two of us put in-- culminating in today's reward.  I let out a sigh as I watched the streetlights flash by us through the car's window, smile on my face.  I couldn't wait to head back to the office tomorrow.

[comatosebunny09]

merry christmas, mr. sylus [ fin ]

— summary: the one where you nearly tear your hair out, trying to find the perfect christmas gift for your office crush. — cw: fluff, romance, jealousy, feelings of inadequacy, reader is not mc, ceo verse, modern au, aged-up characters, mutual pining, misunderstanding trope, mild language, silliness, angst — notes: the finale for this. edit: i lied. this is the finale for this series. thank you for reading! — now playing: swan serenade - piano house

You spend the remainder of the party avoiding your boss like the plague. But running into him is inevitable. You work directly for the man, after all.

As the staff trickles out, taking with them their drunken merriment, you’re left to pick up the pieces of your wounded heart and the party’s aftermath. 

You shove Solo cups and decorative paper plates into a trash bin. Snatch off tablecloths and roll the karaoke machine into the broom closet. Wipe off tables, tear down garland. You do everything you can to stay busy, your self-loathing an ever-present rain cloud hanging overhead.

What were you expecting? For Mr. Sylus to fall to his knees for you? For him to sever whatever bond he has with Ms. Hunter for you? You snort at yourself as a wet film of heat slides over your eyes, impairing your vision. You feel ridiculous. Sick to your stomach. 

The trash bin slips from your fingers, thudding dully on the carpeted floor. In an attempt to collect yourself, you prop your hands on the edge of a table, releasing a shaky sigh. You blink away the new commination of tears. You’d been doing good so far, having given yourself a lengthy pep-talk in the bathroom earlier. Something to get you through what remained of the night without wearing your anguish on your sleeves.

So what if he doesn’t view you in the same light as you view him? This isn’t the first time you’ve faced rejection, and it most certainly won’t be the last. It doesn’t make this iteration hurt any less. You’re his secretary, for God’s sake. Not a friend nor a potential love interest. The quips and laughter you exchange daily are nothing more than him being polite. The model gentleman, maintaining the peace between himself and the person responsible for organizing his life. 

You are so swept up in the turmoil of your mind that you hardly register your name being called. Someone beckons to you again, this time more assertive, though not scolding. You whip your head around to the source of the sound, homing in on a familiar shock of white. 

Tamping down the emotions swelling in your chest, you straighten, fixing your sweater, and a superficial smile takes up residence on your face.

“Yes, sir?”

He studies you for a beat from the slab of space permitted by his half-opened door, long fingers wrapped around the oakwood like spindly spider limbs. He gives you a once over, his brows slightly wrinkled. His lips quiver, gaze pensive like he wants to say something. Something other than what next comes out. 

“Would you mind assisting me with something?” he asks, his tone deceptively impassive. 

Your stomach lurches, the feeling akin to cresting over the slope of a roller coaster. You swallow, pushing your disappointment to the back burner. What did you expect him to say? Sorry? Like he even knows you’re upset. Like he knows why you’re upset. 

Like he cares. 

You nod curtly, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans. “Of course, sir.”

You move to your desk, your nerves exploding like solar flares beneath your skin while Sylus slinks back into his office. He promptly reappears, thrusting a thick stack of envelopes of varying sizes and colors towards you. Your vision blurs and adjusts as you glance between him and the envelopes.

“Christmas cards,” he answers flatly with a shrug. “I could use some help opening and drafting up responses to them all.” 

“Oh.” Try to sound more disappointed, why don’t you? 

Your fingers graze the clutch of his hand when you reach for the cards. And the worn, warm glide of his skin beneath your fingertips makes you stiffen. You wonder what it would feel like to purposely hold his hand. To commit the feel of his palm to memory. But you banish such thoughts, bowing your head and ducking away.

“Sorry,” you pinch out, moving to the chaise sofa against the wall by his office door. 

He’s wordless as he plops down beside you, releasing a weighted sigh. He drapes his arm along the back of the seat. You try vainly to ignore his slender fingers near your shoulder, drumming against the polished leather. 

You lapse into a rigid silence, your shoulders and jaw set. You find your resolve trickling away, the warmth he exudes beside you making you feel dizzy and shameless. He even has the audacity to smell good, that unmistakable mixture of birch wood, pressed clothing, and his natural musk, conspiring together to overhaul your senses. 

You wonder if he would be offended if you just… leaned a little this way and—forget it. The bubbly’s getting to you. You’re not testing your luck tonight. You worked your ass off to secure this job, enduring tireless screenings and background checks. Worked even harder to gain his trust. No sense in allowing your feelings to compromise your position. 

Besides, you know where you stand with him. Or don’t stand. The spectacle before with the darling Ms. Hunter was all the confirmation you needed. The words you never stood a chance resound in your head like a struck gong. You scoff, tearing into a crimson envelope, dispelling the cacophony in your head. 

“This one is from Mrs. Carter over in HR,” you say, waving the card around. You don your usual playful mask, praying your hurt doesn’t show through the fissures. He acknowledges you with a gruff sound, immersed in a card of his own. You take that as your cue to continue.

Feigning nonchalance, you flip the card open. You clear your throat, repositioning yourself on the sticky, squeaky sofa, crossing your legs, and leaning towards the opposite chair arm. You rattle off the card’s contents aloud. A generic greeting, hollow praise, a bidding for a successful new year. 

“Send her a gift card,” he answers dismissively. You scoff, tucking the card between your thigh and the chair’s arm. Is it just you, or is he being unbearably cold? You’re the one with the wounded pride here.

You occupy yourself with another letter, trying to quell the new swell of emotions burbling in your chest. You’ve reread the same line repeatedly, the cursive scrawl embedded into the cardstock blurring and bending. It’s exceedingly difficult to focus with him so close. And you find yourself stealing little glimpses of him in your peripheral.

He looks even better beneath the incandescent lights like this, like a Roman sculpture bred from patient hands. His cheeks are mottled red, probably from throwing back one too many glasses of champagne. Delicate, alabaster strands fall from their usual coiffure, sweeping over set brows and hollow cheeks. Dark lashes dust over warm ivory skin, scarlet irises dancing beneath as he reads over another Christmas card. You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows. Find yourself, too, swallowing against the dry, scratchy feeling in your throat.

You tug in the neckline of your sweater. It’s itchy and thick, and the heater’s turned up in the building to combat the cold outside. You’re uncomfortable because of the temperature and not because your boss is so unbearably close.

With a sigh, you peel yourself from the lounge. You venture to your desk in search of a letter opener. If you’re going to spend the rest of your night working, you might as well make the task a little less daunting. Rifling through your drawers, you happen upon the biggest one. And your breath catches, grip white-knuckled on the brass knob when you catch sight of it. Inside lies your present—his present—the intricate foil wrapping gleaming condescendingly.

Something pulls in your chest. Your hand shakes. Your lips pull into a taut line, embarrassment spuming like a hot geyser into your face. You’re about to slam the drawer shut, but a streak of warm skin stains your peripheral vision. And as horror descends onto your features, he snatches up the contents of your drawer faster than you can process things. 

“What’s this now?” your boss asks, intrigue mixed with amusement hanging in the boughs of his voice. 

Wide-eyed and mortified, you look at him. Your flight or fight instincts kick in, pushing you towards the latter. He dons a wolfish grin as you swipe at the box in his hand, and he holds it just out of reach. Damn him for being so absurdly tall!

“Sir!” you clip, swiping at the gift like an enraged feline. He doesn’t relent, instead spurred by your reaction, and the contents of the box shift about as he continues his childish game of keep away. Your chest slides against him each time you strain on tippy-toe. And you try to ignore how pleasant he feels, warm and hard-bodied against you.

Spinning out of reach, your boss chuckles at your expense. He seems to enjoy this, watching you hop after him like a field mouse, trying vainly to swipe the object from his hand. 

“You think I didn’t notice you fretting over this all night?” he teases once you’ve stopped—at least for now—your cheeks puffing out, nostrils flaring. 

“Mr. Sylus, I—”

“And you weren’t even going to give it to me.” He clicks his tongue, feigning hurt. “What have I done to warrant such cruelty?”

Reality slowly seeps in. He’s one step closer to opening your gift and discovering how much of a useless spazz you are. Switching tactics, you hold out a placating hand, stepping towards him like he’s holding a charged explosive.

“Sir, I need that back!”

His mouth forms a pensive line as his gaze shifts between you and the box clutched in his fingers. “Why? It’s mine, isn’t it? It has my name on it.” He squints at the meticulous scrawl of your penmanship, and when you make a surprise lunge toward the box when you think he’s distracted, he swings his arm out of reach, baiting you like a bull.

He laughs low, a mirthful crease to his eyes. You’d take time to appreciate it if you weren’t fighting for your life. 

“What’s got you so worked up? What could possibly be in here that you’re willing to bite my head off to get it back?”

You swallow thickly, chest heaving as you watch Sylus drop onto your leather rolling chair, cross-legged and smiling like the cat who caught the canary. He shakes the box near his ear, its contents rattling about. 

“Sir, don’t.” But it’s too late. The sound of paper ripping is jarring in the stillness of your office space. 

You’re stiff as stone, mouth hinged open, terror screwing up your features. Eventually, you concede to your fate, hands falling listlessly at your sides whilst your boss uncovers what lurks beneath the pretty foil paper you’d spent so much time wrapping his present in. You pour yourself onto the chaise lounge, your shoulders touching your ears, feeling like a child waiting with their parents at the principal’s office. You sneak little glances at his hands, each tear making you wince like a scrape against your heart.

Sylus quirks a quizzical brow at you, looking between the matte grey box he uncovered in his hand and you. You don’t contest him, too busy trying to remember how to breathe. He takes your cue, slowly peeling the lid off the box. He reaches inside to procure yet another box, slightly smaller than the one it’s nested in, neatly wrapped in paper similar to what he just tore off. 

Giving you a perturbed look, Sylus repeats the previous process. And again, he’s faced with matte gray. He carries on like this, peeling back a lid, finding another box nested inside, and tearing through wrapping paper for another three iterations.

“How long does this go on?” he prods, faced with another box. “And how many trees did you kill to pull this off?”

You press the tips of your index fingers together, pursing your lips as you look elsewhere. “You’re almost there.” You’re half-grateful he decided to be shit about it. You don’t feel as bad for nesting his gift away like matryoshka dolls. He deserves to feel the same distress he subjected you to mere minutes ago.

Vexation rolls off him in waves when he reaches yet another box, and he fixes you with a look that bodes danger. There aren’t too many times you’ve witnessed him this annoyed. He’s normally like this when his afternoon nap is interrupted by anyone but you or he’s dealing with a particularly ornery client. 

You stand from the couch with a nervous titter in your throat, snatching up the discarded red bow and ribbons you adorned his gift with and tacking it onto the crown of your head. You do a little jig, something to dispel the tension, wordlessly cheering him on. 

Sylus rolls his eyes with a resigned sigh. A ghostly smile rounds his lips thereafter, and you could swear you see something like fondness shining in his eyes at your antics. It disappears as quickly as it came, replaced by a determined pinch between his brows. 

You continue swaying your hips from side to side and pumping your fists in the air, the bow's ribbons falling comically over your eyes and water-falling off your shoulders. 

Finally, finally, Sylus exposes a matte, black box that’s the size of his palm. Wrapping paper lies like carnage at his feet, bent-up cardboard boxes piled atop your desk. You sigh in relief, though it’s short-lived, as he opens the final barrier between him and his gift.

He studies the contents of this new box, eerily quiet. You swallow as he reaches inside, producing something garish and pink from within. “What the hell is this?” he queries, waving the plastic novelty revolver around.  

You snort, the flatness of his tone catching you off guard. “A gun,” you answer as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Sylus scoffs. “Clearly. But what is it for?”

Flourishing your arms, you plaster on a grin. “For you to put me down in case you no longer find any use for me!”

Looking between the pink revolver and you, he crooks his finger around the trigger, huffing a disbelieving laugh. “You want me to ‘Old Yeller’ you?”   

“If that’s what it comes down to.” And what comedic timing he has, pulling the trigger, a banner with Bang printed in bright Comic Sans popping out, complimented by a flurry of rainbow paper confetti.

Silence lapses between you as the confetti flutters to the floor. You caution a look at your boss, and he shakes his head, his lips crooked into a smirk, though the knit of his brows reveals his disappointment. 

“You can also use it during your meetings when someone pisses you off,” you warily add, shifting your weight between your feet. He doesn’t honor you with a response, instead setting the revolver on your desk with a definitive clack. He studies something in the distance, seemingly ignoring you.

If you weren’t already feeling silly before, you most certainly do now. You figured something unconventional would suit your boss. Something to define your work relationship, the pair of you often trading morbid and esoteric jokes to make the day's hustle a little less daunting. It seemed like a good idea when it caught your eye in the mall. In retrospect, maybe it wasn’t a good buy after all. Especially when compared to Ms. Hunter's gift, and the recollection makes something cold wash over your innards.

You press the tips of your index fingers together, gaze cast on the floor. You’ve screwed up, and you’ll probably lose your job over this. Either that or your working relationship will turn to shit. You’d honestly rather be relieved of your position when considering the latter option. Turning to leave, to pick up the jagged shards of your pride and finish tidying up, you gasp when you feel a warm presence behind you, the fine hairs littering your body standing at attention. 

You turn to acknowledge him, wincing away, expecting to be struck. Mr. Sylus has never raised a hand at you before, only lightly flicking your forehead or tapping your nose when he felt playful that day. You realize how ridiculous you must look and sound, but you steel yourself against the worst possible outcome regardless.

A hit never comes. You’re instead greeted with the hard press of a body against yours. With arms loosely winding about your middle and a chin finding the crook of your shoulder. His scent is overwhelming. The heat he exudes is dizzying, wit-pilfering. 

Wide-eyed, with your hands opening and closing awkwardly at your sides, you stiffen as you grapple with the notion that your boss is hugging you. Mr. Sylus. Hugging you. No matter how many times you turn the words over in your mind, you can’t process them. You didn’t even know he was capable of such an act.

“Thank you,” he intones, his voice a pleasant vibration in your body. He rubs over the notches of your spine, nuzzling into you further like you’re his security blanket. Once your common sense returns, an affectionate smile touches your lips. 

You clumsily return his hug, unsure of the proper conduct in this situation. But you throw caution to the wind, full-on embracing him, your eyes twinkling with tears. “Of course, sir,” you murmur, swallowing against the swell of emotions in your throat.

The hug ends much too soon for your liking. Sylus peels away, his hands clasping your arms. You tilt your head quizzically as he studies you, the bow's ribbons brushing off your shoulder. You must be quite the doe-eyed sight. His eyes darken as his gaze falls to your lips, his own mouth slightly parting. He looks as if he’s wrestling with something in his mind. Turning it over, at war with himself. He seems to win whatever battle is taking place behind his eyes, for he slowly pans in, his lashes bowing.

And maybe you’re swept up in the moment, too, his hug having buried your defenses in the sand. You don’t fight him, only awkwardly shifting when your lips meet before relaxing beneath the slight chap of his lips. 

Beneath the ethereal twinkle of the fairy lights you hadn’t yet snatched down, through the stillness of the investment firm’s tenth floor, and with your pulse thundering in your throat, Mr. Sylus kisses you. A full press of lips, his grip on your arms tightening the barest as if to keep you rooted to the spot. Not that you would run, feeling weightless, like navigating a dream. 

As quickly as reality floats onto your shoulders like a wispy shawl, he pulls back, wild-eyed and panting. And it’s as if you’re the greatest sin he was never meant to indulge in. He releases you before tearing a shaky hand through his tresses, pushing out a weighted exhale. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, stepping away from you before you can think, each hurried thump of his loafers across the floor like a strike to your racing heart.

You strain your ears for every bit of sound until the elevator around the corner pings, and you hear him step inside, the doors swishing shut. And you’re left to the swell of static and impenetrable silence, staring after the faint afterimage left by his tall visage. 

You turn towards the ceiling high-window, dazed. Touch your lips with shaky fingers, the sensitive skin still tingling with the remnants of your kiss. Flecks of white streak the violet canvas beyond the window, the first snowfall fluttering in gossamer patterns towards the ground. 

You got what you wanted. What you’d maybe consider the greatest Christmas gift you've ever received. But as a bitter smile tugs at your lips, your eyesight glossing over with a warm film, and you clutch your chest, your thoughts seep in.

Why does it feel like it’s not what he wanted? 

[sayangrafayel]

LADS AU where they all live together, MC is dating Rafayel.

Zayne: Oh hey, Rafayel.. Are you wearing your running bottoms and your hoodie? Are you going running?

Rafayel: nods

Sylus: Rafayel, are you alright?

Rafayel: nods and leaves

MC: Have fun.

Zayne: Oh my, what is wrong with Rafayel, MC?

Xavier: Yeah, are you guys okay?

MC: Rafayel is going for a run, if anything, we should be asking what is right with Rafayel.

Zayne: He only goes running if he’s upset, and he’s wearing his sad hoodie, and by the looks of it it’s been washed which is bone chilling.

MC: He’s fiiine. Everything is ok.

Caleb bursts into the apartment

Caleb: I JUST PASSED RAFAYEL. ON THE STREET. RUNNING. ON PURPOSE! OH MY GOD.

MC: ...Maybe I was wrong.

Caleb: RAFAYEL!!! ARE YOU OKAY? I SEE YOU AND I LOVE YOU!

MC: In my defense, no one here emotes in a normal way.

Zayne: That’s right.

Caleb: RAFAYEL!!

[windser]

ok new poll bc i need help deciding on a dynamic to focus on for sylus. i will still probably entertain the other eventually but most my drabbles and random thoughts will focus on the primary one. so pls help me decide based on interest! #1 pseudo!brother-in-law sylus trope where you are the partner of sylus and the unofficial (big sis) to mc. think of a fairyg momma and elder sibling energy wrapped in one, there to provide some life guidance while mc navigates her aether core and love interest dilemma. #2 soulmate!au, where you are the mc, and also sylus fated pair. loosely follows canon [read more about it here] sub(switch)!sylus #3 more of a modern!au (still deciding how i will incorporate wanderers) but mc, also you, is newly hired to a club owned by sylus. where you learn more about the bdsm scene. likely dom!mc and sub(switch)!sylus

[mxrmaid-poet]

bot drop: august 10

a lot more bots got done this week, so it was a productive week. alsooo c.ai started to log the views on older bots so officially, all my bots (except completely new ones) have plays! (exciting!)

requests ~

theo and arthur

polyamorous relationship, basically a sequel to this one. 💕

leon dompteur

user is belle and a very shy one at that. leon is just so naturally charming, user is very overwhelmed

gilbert von obsidian

I think I got too much into this when I was writing the prompt. gilbert and user are cake testing for their upcoming wedding andddd well, he’s just being Gilbert 🥲

(this one literally got shadow banned from my profile 🤦🏽‍♀️, I’m assuming cuz I said the word kill ugh)

sylus

my first L&D bot! they are out shopping and user is being self conscious.

nobunaga oda

I’m not sure if this is what you asked for (to the person who requested him), instead of Mai I imagined that user was a hostage or a guest staying in the Oda castle in some way. user is kept to themself though and nobunaga ain’t used to it so he’s trying get you to open up.

chevalier michel (baby!)

I always have such a fun time with your requests! (not sure who u are but 🩷🩷) in a nutshell, it’s sort of an AU where chev and belle meet when they are both little at the bookstore!

chevalier michel

based on the song OMG by newjeans. sorry to the requester (for some reason I didn’t see it said modern and made it take place in the same universe but like 100+ years after. basically the premise is chev admitted himself into almost a mental health wellness centre — he’s just vibing fr and has a lot of memories of a past life where he was the king and you, his nurse, was belle

jean & mozart

jean wanted to try what other ppl do (drinks out with friends 🥺) so he made u and Mozart come with him. you r probably all drunk now

my own ~

elbert greetia - just had his first child, she’s about five weeks old and he can’t stop buying her things 💕

MASTERLIST PT 2 | REQUEST FORM

[celestialzdiviner]

𝕭𝖔𝖙𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Character AI account: Celestzai

I don't take requests as I only do this for fun and when I get motivation, however, you can send some if you like to in my inbox thing (There's a chance I might get motivated~ you never know!).

Tags:

NSFW - ✦ Fluff - ✿ Angst - ❖

Fandoms I have made bots for include the following:

➸ JJK (Jujutsu Kaisen) ➸ Love & Deepspace ➸ Demon Slayer ➸ Genshin Impact ➸ Honkai Star Rail

Geto Suguru:

Original AU

➸ One night stand ✦ ➸ Spin the bottle~ ✦ ➸ Destress Monk Geto ✦

Gojo Satoru:

Original AU

➸ Clingy Bf! Satoru ✿ ➸ Older Bf! Satoru ✿

Zayne:

Original AU

➸ Picnic with Zayne~ ✿ ➸ Why her… (Not MC! User) ❖ ➸ Something seems to be wrong with the chocolate… ✦ ➸ I need you… ✿ ➸ Welcome home~ ✿ ➸ Jealous Zayne?! ✿❖(?) ➸ Let’s test that, shall we? ✦

Sylus:

Original AU

➸ Sugar Daddy Sylus?! ✿

Kyojuro Rengoku:

Modern AU

➸ the history teacher is your old childhood friend ✿

Giyu Tomioka:

Modern AU

➸ an awkward businessman ✿

Scaramouche / Wanderer

Original AU:

➸ Scara needs your help (Aph) ✦ ➸ He hates you… right? ✿❖

Dan Heng

Original AU:

➸ Dan Heng as your fake boyfriend! ❖✿(?) ➸ Spin the bottle ✦

[fuyuu-chan]

~Masterlist~

Genshin Impact

Kamisato Ayato

The Prince Fall In Love At First Sight ~ Royal AU

In the Cat Café with Him ~ Modern AU

Random BF Texts

Messages with my Fav Boys <3 (ft. Neuvillette & Ayato)

SMAU

Neuvillette

Visiting Neuvillette In His Office

Neuvillette As Your Beloved Partner ~Headcanons~

In The Weekend

I wanna ruin our friendship we should be lovers instead

Your Smile Is The Only Thing I Would Love To See

Is it really Unrequited Love?

Reading Each Other's Favorite Books

Bookworms

Messages with my Fav Boys <3 (ft. Neuvillette & Ayato)

It's me. Hi. I'm the problem it's me :)

Tears of Themis

Vyn Richter

Your 1st Wedding Anniversary!

Random BF Texts

Unexpected Encounter Turned Into a Nice Vacation

"Life Is Hard But You Are Loved"- 2023 Event

Love Who You Are

Love and Deepspace

Sylus

Few Bits of Your Life with Sylus <3

Jealousy, Jealousy

I Love You but You Love Her and I'll never be Her

There's a First in Everything

The Only Art I Would Look At Is You

When I Met You

Why I Fell For You

Honkai Star Rail

Jing Yuan

Him being your Suitor

Whispers of Courage

Cuddle Time

A Winter To Remember

Sunday

Things Sunday Does (ft. (Name) As an Anxious Person)

Ron Kamonohashi's Forbidden Deductions

Only a Genius could Love a Woman like Her

Solo Leveling

Sung Jin Woo as the Ideal BF (Headcanons)

SMAU

Kimetsu no Yaiba (KNY)

Salty Bit - Mitsuri (platonic)

Imagines

A Dream That I Hope It's Real

Always There For You

For You I Would Sacrifice Anything...Even If It Cost My Life

Snuggling To Keep You Warm

Requests Are: Closed