#sylus smut

[chuluoyi]

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒

- sylus x reader

you suspect something’s off when you catch your lover with the hunter girl, so you decide to give him the cold shoulder. his way of winning you back? trapping you in a bet—if he wins this underground fight match, you’re back to being his

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—brief smut, comfort, total fluff, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), based on sylus' card radiant brilliance

note: this has been looong buried in my drafts since before my writer's block started :') again, a part of the assassin!reader that started with strictly (un)professional

Your lover— he is definitely hiding something.

“Mmph!” A moan escaped you mid-kiss as his palm suddenly cupped your right breast, squeezing and stroking it, while two of his left fingers thrusted inside you, getting you wet.

His fevered lips and tongue melded with yours, his wicked fingers driving you to the brink of madness—and oh damn, the devil that possessed them felt so heavenly—as he pressed you against the vanity, bending you over its edge.

A knowing gleam flickered in his eyes. “Mm, you talk too much, woman.”

Your thoughts blurred, teetering on the edge of control, yet deep within, a spark of aggravation incessantly burned, especially when you remembered the person you had caught him manhandling earlier this afternoon—

Miss Hunter.

“Sylus—! Stop!”

"Tch." He pulled away with a hiss as soon as you pushed his chest away with everything you had. Just like that, you were left high and dry; the emptiness his fingers had left behind made you instinctively cross your legs. "Why are you so uncooperative tonight?"

"You—" Gasping for breath, you clutched your slipping nightgown, glaring sharply at him despite the discomfort of the hard surface beneath you. "You really think you can shut me up... with sex?"

"I'm telling you, nothing happened." Sylus’ lips curled with a smug hint of satisfaction, only fueling your irritation. "Didn’t know my woman had such a jealous streak until now."

If there was one thing you’d learned from years by Sylus' side, it was that everything he did had a purpose. If it had been some random bimbo hanging around the casino or his resorts, you wouldn’t bat even an eye.

But this was the Miss Hunter—the very girl he had spent decades searching for, the one with whom he shared a bond so profound that he had forsaken everything just for the chance to find her again.

And compared to her, you were just his bedwarmer... who just happened to catch his eye.

"You two were kissing," you accused almost spitefully, the words laced with bitter edge.

His grin vanished, replaced by a look of distaste. "We were not."

You knew what you saw—he cornered her in the furthermost corner of the base, far away from even from the prying eyes of Luke and Kieran, and they were definitely just an inch away from each other. "Then what were you two doing?"

"Can't we talk just like acquaintances do?" The lack of viable answer gnawed at you. If there was nothing to hide, why didn’t he just say so and put your suspicions to rest?

"Will you do her like you do me?" The venom in your voice startled even you, slipping out before you could stop it. "Ha. I should’ve known..."

By now, he had this sour yet stern look in his face that made you almost shudder but you stood your ground. His tone was almost mocking, "Insecurity makes you so bitter, sweetie. Get yourself together."

It felt like a prick in the heart. Oh. As heartless as you were in the face of blood and gore, you still had it apparently when faced with your lover's conniving red eyes and sinful lips.

But more than that... as they said, heartbreak is one thing, but your ego is another.

"To hell with you!" you snapped, sitting up straight. Sylus blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the look on your face—was it showing the hurt? Or just plain defiance? Even you weren’t sure as you spun on your heel and stormed out of his room promptly.

Not for the first time, the very idea that he might be getting on with another woman twisted something inside you, the ache sharper than you expected. It suddenly saddened you to a degree that it brought mist to your eyes.

For the next three days, you ignored Sylus almost completely. He tried to get back to your good graces, but you paid him no mind, acting as if he didn't exist.

“Missus, please— just say yes!”

And caught in the crossfire, poor Luke and Kieran had become his reluctant messengers.

You unconsciously shot a sharp glare at the twins. Perhaps it was the mental strain you were putting yourself under, but you truly hadn’t meant to scare them more than they already were.

"Boss is really cranky when he isn't in a good mood," Luke pleaded, clasping his hands together. "Please just help us this time, will you?"

"He promises he’ll make it right!" Kieran chimed in with a hopeful grin. "As soon as he wins his match this weekend, you’ll see—there’s nothing to worry about!"

Sylus and his penchant for boxing. You knew these underground matches were something he indulged in now and then, and you'd let him be.

But this time...

"How are you so sure he's going to win?" You lifted your chin, a taunting smirk curling your lips. "And no, I'm not going. Tell him that."

"Missus, you have to see reason— there is no way Boss is having an affair—" Kieran insisted, shaking his head in frustration.

"Boss is whipped!" Luke cut in, throwing his hands up. "For you! Can't you see?!"

"..." For a solid five seconds, silence blanketed the room. You arched an eyebrow so high it made Luke look like he'd just spilled the world’s best-kept secret, while Kieran slapped a hand over his mask in exasperation.

And things were obviously not getting better—

"Ha. I'm what?"

You could see the twins visibly gulping the very second Sylus' voice boomed across the hall, and you rolled your eyes.

"Pfft," he let out this low chuckle as he made his way towards the three of you. "Hear that, sweetie? Luke isn't wrong."

"..."

"The little kitty's anger hasn't subsided, I see," he murmured, tilting his head to the side with a playful smirk, arms folded across his chest. "Such little trust you have in me."

You sighed. "Don't tempt me to hate you prolifically, Sylus."

"You wound me," he retorted, ruby-red eyes narrowed. "I have been nothing but honest and transparent."

You turned away, pressing your lips into a tight line. Deep down, you knew how childish all of this felt. Maybe it was nothing, after all. Maybe, just like he said, it was your insecurity twisting things.

And why are you so insecure, anyway?

"Keep your eyes on me, kitten."

Suddenly, caught off guard, you almost yelped as he tilted your chin towards him, forcing you to meet his gaze. Your heart raced wildly, but you fought to keep it in check.

"I win, and you’ll do what I say," his eyes flicking from yours to your lips, his voice a velvety whisper in your ear. "But if I lose... you can have your way—however you want."

Your pride took over. A second later, you jerked your face away, refusing to give him the satisfaction. To salvage your dignity, you let out an indignant scoff.

"Best hope you lose then."

You’d never been fond of crowds, let alone sitting in the stands of a boxing match.

And yet here you were, clutching a bouquet of fresh flowers—the twins had practically shoved them into your arms before bolting away—surrounded by the deafening roar of fans.

You would punish them later, you so would. It was humid and you were fuming. There was nothing interesting here, and to top it all off, Sylus’ turn to the ring was taking forever.

Until it didn't.

When he finally stepped into the spotlight, you caught sight of him on the big screen. And in that moment—when that devilish smirk curled his lips—you could’ve sworn he wasn’t aiming it at the crowd.

He was throwing it right at your direction.

And oh, how the rapid and traitorous thump-thump-thump inside your chest drowned out everything else, as if the roar of the crowd gradually faded at the realization.

How is it that he always manages to get your heart in his grasp?

. . .

When they said this sport wasn’t for the weak, they weren’t lying. No matter how tough you thought you were, you still flinched every time the opponent’s fist connected with your lover’s jaw.

Despite all the aggravation you harbored about him, watching him stumble and get knocked back felt like a punch to your own gut. In that moment, all you wanted was for it to end.

And when it finally was—when the referee raised Sylus’ arm and declared his victory—you exhaled a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Relief washed over you in a quiet, fleeting wave.

However, reporters and cheers quickly swarmed him, and the distance between you felt even greater then. There he stood, proud as ever, lofty as if standing atop clouds, surveying the world with thinly veiled contempt. Meanwhile, you…

You were still dissatisfied. Sylus had a way of winning everything he set his sights on, while you remained stuck with your own petty grievances and emotional baggage you subjected yourself to.

It was vexing, really. How you wanted him to win and not at the same time. How you wanted his everything and knowing you would never be able to.

“What’s the secret to winning this match?!” one reporter asked, voice brimming with excitement.

Sylus answered with a casual smirk. “I made a bet I absolutely can’t lose,” he said coolly. “So, I won.”

The girls in the stands erupted into deafening cheers at his response, their shrill voices forcing you to cover your ears.

The nerve. You scoffed, irked by his answer and by the crowd’s adoration. You decided you wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of you lingering here any longer.

Snatching up your bag and that damned bouquet, you marched toward the exit with long, determined strides when—

“Ooh? And who is this special person?!”

“Ah, look, there she is.”

You froze mid-step as the spotlight suddenly pinned you in its beam. Whirling around, your breath caught as you saw Sylus descending from the arena, his gaze locked onto yours.

What the hell?

For a moment, you froze in utter disbelief as he approached you with that effortless grace, as if the crowd around him didn’t exist. Before you could piece together your fragmented thoughts, he was already standing before you.

“Are you mad?!” you murmured in a hiss, your voice barely louder than a breath over the distant roar of cheers, yet pointed enough to pierce the air between you.

Sylus, however, only let out a snort, swiftly snatching the bouquet from your arms, and pulling you by the shoulders— his breath tickled you ear as he whispered:

“Got you.”

—and before you could react, he crashed his lips on yours in a bold kiss that at sent the crowd into an instant uproar of cheers.

“Whoa, whoa! The champion! Look how manly he is!”

“He has a girlfriend?!”

“Oh, my! To be that girl!”

“—!” You almost pushed him away, only to falter when you realized his kiss was anything but forceful. It was deep but disarmingly gentle.

Sylus pulled back just as quickly, his eyes twinkled with mischief as he took in your stunned expression.

“You’re mine now, sweetie,” he said with a smug grin, giving you a light pat in the head.

The way his eyes crinkle as he looks at you... Your cheeks burned, and your heart thundered in your chest, drowning the roars of the swooning crowd—

Because in that moment, you could’ve sworn there was nothing but pure adoration in those mesmerizing garnet eyes of his.

“You've gone and done it... What if anyone recognizes us?”

Later that night, freshly showered and wrapped in silk nightgowns, you sat at the edge of the bed, towel in hand as you dried your wet hair. You cast a glance at Sylus, who had just bathed with you and now lounged nearby with an unbothered grin.

The events from this afternoon still felt like somewhat of a dream to you. You had never been under that much of a spotlight before— too used to a life shrouded in shadows, quietly biding your time, preparing to brandish your blade when the moment came.

But through Sylus, every now and then, you caught a glimpse of what it felt like to stand on the other side of that darkness. And it felt freeing— like you could finally breathe, unburdened by the scent of blood and gunpowder.

"Wouldn't that be fun? Imagine the headlines," he shrugged nonchalantly. "The Onychinus leader and his missus... masquerading as a boxer and his fan for a day."

You huffed, shooting him a stink eye. "That's not even funny."

Despite the public display that Sylus had more or less pulled and made the two of you known as lovers even in underground world, there was still a gnawing curiosity at the back of your mind, feeding your insecurity—

The sight of him and Miss Hunter replayed again in your mind's eye. It was never fun finding them together in such close proximity.

And yet, in the end... he returned to you, still. Unspoken it may be, but Sylus had always taken your side so far.

You let out a long, resigned sigh. That caught his attention as he turned to you. "What is it?"

"Nothing," you quipped, slightly grimacing. "Forget it. I'm going to sleep."

Sylus raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on you. Even when you hid it, he knew what you'd wanted to ask and if you asked it now, he would tell you.

The way your face had fallen bothered him more than he'd like to admit. He rose from the recliner and moved to your side. "No, you won't be sleeping."

"What?"

He knelt beside you, gently taking hold of your leg, and pressed a kiss to your calf, his touch warm and unhurried as he met your gaze with a sly smile.

"Sylus..." you eyed him with incredulity, feeling yourself getting warm.

His red eyes crinkled. "Don't you want to ask me something?"

Your hand reached out to caress his face, and he leaned into your touch. That simple act alone brought a small, intrigued smile to your face. "No."

"Hmph. Really?"

"What?" You traced your fingers on his sharp jaw, admiring it. "You think I'll demand you for answers about whether you're two-timing me with Miss Hunter again?"

Sylus tilted his head, relishing the way your fingers cradled his face, staying quiet, however.

You were really great at this pushing and pulling game. It irked him to see how detached you seemed now when he knew a part of you had been fazed by it days ago.

He disliked it when you tried to hide what you were feeling. He hated it even more when you doubted him for anything. But seeing how unhappy you had been lately rattled him.

"Nothing happened," he said in a low voice, catching your hand and locking eyes with you. "Would you feel better if I had told you that since the beginning?"

"Who knows?" you replied with a soft shrug, a wry smile on your lips. "You didn't tell me before."

What a vixen. The thought simmered in his mind. Mine, though.

Like a cat pouncing on its owner, Sylus suddenly moved, going straight for your lips and pinning you to the bed. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he pried your lips open with his tongue.

Yet despite it all, you felt how gentle he was. The Sylus from before would just fuck you senseless and be done with it, but the one with you now... he treated you with an unexpected tenderness, as if savoring every second with you.

He pulled away only when you were breathless, the saliva string between your lips breaking as he gave you a moment to gasp for air. His gaze softened, lingering on your flushed face, a satisfied smile curling on his lips.

"You will see for yourself tomorrow. Tonight, however..." he trailed off, his lips hovering just above yours.

But you placed one hand on his chest and another on his neck, looking up at him with bleary eyes, the vulnerability in your gaze tugging at something within him.

"Actually, I'm a bit exhausted..." You found his intense gaze and blinked slowly. "So, can you be not as rough?"

"Ha." Sylus let out a snicker at your request, taking the hand you had on his chest and pressing a soft kiss on it.

What a precious little thing you are. Your face right now... It was a look he couldn’t resist, one that made him want to protect you and ruin you, all at once.

His smirk lingered. "Of course, sweetie. I'll go easy on you tonight."

And true to his word, he didn't break his promise.

Even as he dived between your legs, his tongue skillfully lapping at your folds— and as you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. And later, when he pulled you into his arms and murmured softly until you drifted to sleep.

When you woke up the next morning, it was because of two things.

One— it was freezing. Your thin nightgown was definitely no match against the biting chill of a winter morning.

And two— Sylus wasn't here.

You wondered where he could have gone as it was his bedtime, but as you pulled the comforter closer to keep yourself from shivering, something caught your eye.

It took you a full three seconds to process it.

There was a ring on your finger.

"Huh...?" You were jolted awake by the sight of the glittering ruby. It was intricate, yet strangely nostalgic, reminding you of Sylus' eyes. How? Why?

You immediately turned to the nightstand, your gaze landing on a small jewelry box sitting neatly atop it. You scrambled for it, the name of the jeweler embossed on the lid caught your attention. It wasn’t from anywhere in N109 Zone.

It clicked to you at all once. So, that was why he was with Miss Hunter?

But more than that, what caught your heart was when you flipped it open and found a note inside, with a scrawled handwriting you would never mistake for anyone else's—

Because forever is too long and boring to be spent alone. So, your answer is…?

[h4venpha]

sylus MAKES LOVE to you and you cannot convince me otherwise! my passionate missionary king!!!!!

yes he has his freaky bdsm moments, but 80% of the time its love making. slow kisses, deep, languid thrusts, his large hands warm and firm around your hips and thighs. hes so so into slow sex, letting it draw out for as long as he can. because yes he does indeed LOVE teasing, but he also loves to worship you.

sylus loves smothering you into the bed, loves being so touchy and needy!! hc that he doesnr rlly like doggy because you’re so far from him :( ..though he does like the view and seeing you bite into the pillow!

im just rambling atp but i love slow, passionate sex king sylus as well as kinky bdsm freaky king sylus!

[sunsets-and-crows]

Claws

Thinking about how excited Syus will be when he meets you in his human life, one where he doesn't have claws.

If Sylus’ claws were anything like the talons of other animals, sharp, tough and made from keratin, they’d probably lack the sensitivity of human skin right? Claws are built for strength and precision, not for fine-tuned sensations. In his dragon form: he could touch, sure, but never really feel. Everything would be dulled, fleeting, like wearing gloves or pressing your fingers against glass to touch a hand on the other side. Softness, heat, the delicate texture of skin - it would all be a vague pressure, a constant reminder that he could never hold anything delicate without ruining it.

But now, in his human life, it was as if the gods had handed him salvation wrapped in smooth skin and scarred knuckles. His hands - alive, real - were suddenly made for touch. Where his claws had been brutal precision, his fingers were reverence incarnate. The man is experiencing true touch for the first time, he's suddenly hyperaware of everything. The softness of your cheek? Heavenly. The silkiness of your hair? A revelation. The curve of your body beneath his hands? Enough to make him lose his damn mind., turning him feral.

And let’s not forget - this man would be obsessed with the contrast. Where his claws once tore through flesh and scales, his human hands now worship your body. He’d be almost weeping at how tenderly he can hold you, feeling the pulse beneath your skin, the heat radiating from you. Every little shiver, every sigh, every slight twitch beneath his touch would make his breath catch.

Sylus wouldn’t just touch you - he’d memorise you. Because after a lifetime of dull sensation, feeling you would be a kind of salvation. A reminder that he’s human now. That you’re real. And that, for the first time, he’s capable of experiencing you the way he’s always longed to. Like I'm sure he misses being a dragon right? That's his true form. But now he can touch you so much more intimately.

Sylus couldn’t stop thinking about his hands on you - human hands, strong and scarred, yes, but without the claws that once kept him a world away. It was as if the universe were apologising, granting him this form and, with it, the ability to feel you. To touch without hesitation, without fear of breaking something so precious. And gods, you were precious.

When he first brushed the pad of his thumb across your cheek, he nearly lost himself, feeling the tell-tale sting of tears prickling his eyes. His breath stilled in his chest, his throat dry as he traced the curve of your face, his thumb brushing softly against your lower lip. He marveled at the way his hands could experience you, so different from the sensation in his past life. Your skin gave beneath his touch as though you’d been made of the finest silk, warm and pliant. His hands shook - this creature of power, reduced to something tender, vulnerable. The lump in his throat swelled as he traced the curve of your jaw, every nerve in his body alight with disbelief.

“You’re real,” he murmured, his voice frayed and raw. His crimson eyes wide with something vulnerable. For so long, he had dreamed of holding you without the fear of tearing you apart. And now here you were, soft and impossibly human, letting him touch you. He didn’t have to pull away, didn’t have to fear shredding you apart with an errant motion.

You stared at him, confusion flickering across your features as his thumb traced the curve of your cheek, lingering like he was committing you to memory. There was something in his eyes - softness, longing, love - that didn’t make sense. Not to you.

To Sylus, it was everything. Each motion of his fingers poured out a devotion you couldn’t recognise, couldn’t return. It wasn’t your fault; the memories that should have connected you to him - moments of fire and flight, lifetimes of love and loss - were lost, swallowed up by time or fate.

She doesn’t remember.

The realization tore at him every time you looked at him like this - like he was a stranger. A stranger with hands that shook as he touched you, as though afraid you might slip through his grasp. You were here, now, yet still out of reach. It didn’t stop him. Nothing would stop him.

He traced your face with reverence, his voice low, almost broken. “I’ll remind you,” he whispered, as if making a promise to himself. “Even if it takes a lifetime.”

The first time he braided your hair was seared into his memory with the same intensity as the sun scorching the horizon on the plains. He’d always admired your hair - how it shimmered like liquid in the light - but feeling it slip between his fingers was an entirely new kind of pleasure. It was silk spun into strands, each section gliding so smoothly that he paused often, distracted by the sensation. His large hands, which had once been tipped with razor-sharp talons, now worked with gentle precision, twisting and weaving each section of hair into something beautiful. It shimmered between them, the strands gliding so effortlessly that he forgot what he was doing half the time. His fingers lingered, threading and unthreading, so gentle you might’ve thought him afraid. He whispered things to himself as he worked - praises, almost prayers. Perfect.

But for all those soft touches, Sylus craved more. He had always been a creature of need, a being meant to hoard and devour desire and you were his most dangerous indulgence. And when he finally had you beneath him, bare and trembling, he felt that dangerous edge of hunger blur into a new kind of worship.

His hands explored you like they’d been made for it, each touch deliberate, almost reverent. His thick fingers dragged slowly over the slopes of your body, mapping every dip and curve, every inch of skin that drew a gasp from you. The sensation of your softness giving way to him was intoxicating - a pliant warmth he could lose himself in.

And when he pressed his fingers into you for the first time, he nearly groaned aloud at how you welcomed him. His breath hitched, a groan slipping unbidden from his lips as your body welcomed him. You were wet, silken, warm - a sensation so profound he swore his vision blurred. He flexed his thick fingers, feeling you pulse and cling to him as though you’d been made for this.

“Perfect,” he rasped, voice rough as gravel. He pressed his other palm flat against your hips, holding you still when you squirmed. His crimson gaze burned as he watched the way your body responded, the flush spreading down your chest, the gasps spilling from your lips. “I could do this forever,” he murmured, curling his fingers until he found that spot that had you arching beneath him. “Watch you come apart on my hands alone.”

Each moan and gasp he pulled from you ignited his own desire until he was no better than the humans he used to devour for the same crime. This was humanity, this was what feeling truly was.

His mind spun with the contrast - once, those hands had been weapons, tools for destruction. But now, they coaxed pleasure from you with an ease that made his heart race. It drove him mad, the privilege of it. How you let him hold you, mark you, ruin you - and yet, there you were, looking at him like he’d placed the stars in the sky. Sylus gripped you tighter, palms sliding possessively over your thighs, your hips, the curves that had been haunting him since that first, fateful touch.

In this life, Sylus didn’t need his claws to leave you ruined. He had you, undone and gasping, by the sheer force of his hands alone. He curled his fingers inside you, finding the spot that had you throwing your head back and bucking up to press his fingers deeper inside you. As he drank in the sound of your whimpers and the flush blooming across your chest, Sylus finally understood the truth:

You were his treasure - one he could touch, hold, and break apart as many times as he liked. And gods, he planned to.

➽──────────────────────────────────❥

One day, I might be able to write something about a different LI. Today is not that day. This started as pure horny thoughts about Sylus' hands and now I don't know how to behave.

[salemrph]

Show me (Sylus x MC)

Summary: Sylus is driving you wild, and no matter how hard you try, nothing seems to ease the heat building inside you. After playing blackjack, you find yourself trapped in his control, where the line between teasing and desire disappears.

Character: MC x Sylus

Genre: explicit sexual content, provocative, soft

Pet names: Kitten, Sweetie, Love

Word count: 5,189 | Reading Time: 20 min |

WARNINGS: mdni, fingering, biting, masturbation

This is my first explicit story. Hope you enjoy it.

A moan felt from your lips, is feels so good. Your body is heating up, you arch your back on the bed. Your hand is buried in the sheets. It's intoxicating—his scent lingers everywhere. In the silence of your room, your sighs fill the air. You can feel how wet your are. You hear his voice in your ear, resonating like an echo throughout your body.

You need more, more then what you're feeling now. One more finger slips inside you making you moan his name. You're sweating, you ajuste your position, flipping around, burying your nose in his shirt laying on your pillow. Again. There is the sweet spot.

"Please... Sylus" Only a thread of voice comes out of you, a prayer, begging.

His hands tracing imaginary patterns across your skin, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. You hear his voice, low and seductive, in your mind, his breath hot against your skin.

"That's it, sweetheart. Take it. I want you to moan my name until you can't take it any longer."

You can imagine how he would look at you, his eyes darkened with lust, his lips curling up in a knowing smirk. You can feel his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he guides your movements. The idea of his words sends a shivers down your spine.

How would his finger feels pressing inside of you, the weight of him bearing down on you, holding your nipple? His mouth on your skin, his lips against yours, his teeth scrapping across your skin, marking you as his.

You take your vibrator between your legs, you don't need the vibration tonight, the sensation of having something hard in you is enough. You started with a slow pace but you're so wet, so hungry for him that you quickly change to violent thrust, hitting you g-spot. How would his cock feel, pulsing, twitching? God... is he also so big as your toy or more?

"Kitten" His voice would sound, guttural and rough, as he would moan your name in pleasure.

Everything tight up, your mouth goes dry, your nipple harder than ever, you feel the orgasm reach the pick and you let the pleasure wash over you in release.

"Sylus..." you whisper one more time. The toys, your hand and sheet are cover in your fluids. "Fuck..."

How many time have you fuck yourself thinking about this man? Coming undone with your hands or your vibrator, leaving a mess in your bed—and in your heart. The scent of his shirt, stolen from his closet, clings to you like a guilty pleasure, making you feel like a stalker. When did you become this needy?

You want to get closer to him, but you can’t bring yourself to take the game beyond playful flirting. Whenever it feels like too much, you deflect, change the subject, or find an excuse to pull away. But it’s getting harder to resist. Night after night, he’s all you can think about.

You search for your panties, tossed somewhere on the bed in the haze of release. Still catching your breath, you rise and head to the bathroom, half-naked, to clean up the mess.

You step into the shower, hoping the warm water will help you settle down. The steam wraps around you as you stand under the stream, letting it run over your skin. Your body wants more. It craves something real, something that no amount of teasing thoughts or fantasies can satisfy. You lean your forehead against the cool tiles, trying to clear your mind, but it’s useless. Every time you close your eyes, it’s him—his voice, his touch, the way he’d look at you just before… You swallow hard, shaking your head, but the heat rising in your chest doesn’t fade.

Your body feels restless, it’s begging for more, and nothing you do is enough. The ache is real, almost frustrating. You feel ridiculous, standing here, wanting him like this, but the thought of him is all you can hold onto. And it’s driving you crazy.

The worst part? You’re staying at his place. Not just any place—his place. And you didn’t even have the decency to keep your restless thoughts in check. Instead, you gave in, right here in the guest room. You brought the vibrator just in case, but you didn't think you were going to use it.

Now, standing in the shower, the reality of what you’ve done crashes over you. The thought of being just a few doors away from him while you… God, what if he knew? What if he heard? You feel a flush creep up your neck, but it’s not from the hot water

What have I done? He would never come into my room without asking permission, would he?

No. Sylus was many things, but someone who crossed boundaries without permission? That... yeah, it his style. But still… you can’t shake the nagging doubt.

The image of his smirk flashes in your mind, and your stomach twists. If he knew, he wouldn’t just ignore it—he’d use it against you. Not cruelly, but in that way he has, turning everything into a game, making you stumble just to see if you’ll catch yourself.

You press your hands to your face, letting the water run over your fingertips. Stop overthinking. But it’s impossible when you’re in his space, surrounded by his presence, his scent, his everything.

You step out of the shower, the steam clinging to your skin as you wrap yourself in a towel. Padding softly to your bag, you pull out a fresh pair of everything—underwear, shorts, a loose t-shirt—and slip them on, the cool fabric a small comfort against your overheated thoughts.

The evidence of your restless night—the shirt you shamelessly swiped from his closet and the vibrator you couldn’t resist using—gets shoved deep into your bag. Out of sight, out of mind... or so you tell yourself.

You glance at the clock: 3 a.m. Perfect. Just enough time to stew in your self-inflicted insomnia.

Climbing back into bed, the sheets feel colder, the silence louder. Your mind refuses to settle, replaying every moment, every sound from earlier. You shift restlessly, willing sleep to take over, but it’s no use. Now you’re stuck, wide awake, staring at the ceiling and thinking of him. Of course.

You toss and turn, the sheets twisting uncomfortably around you. Frustration bubbles up as sleep evades you entirely. With a sigh, you sit up, grab a sweater from the back of a chair, and pull it on.

The house is creepily silent, the kind of quiet that feels heavy, pressing against your ears. You pause for a moment, listening for any signs of life. Has Sylus left? Is he in his room? You don’t hear a thing, and it doesn’t matter. Right now, you just need a breath of fresh air to clear your restless mind.

You wander aimlessly through the quiet hallways, the cool floor beneath your bare feet grounding you slightly. The thought of stepping outside without shoes makes you hesitate, so you continue pacing, hoping to find some semblance of calm.

The silence wraps around you like a blanket, but it’s quickly broken by a faint fluttering sound behind you. You freeze mid-step, a familiar presence prickling at the edge of your senses.

Not even two minutes have passed, and the crow is already following you. You turn your head slightly, catching the unmistakable glint of black feathers in the dim light. The bird perches silently on your shoulder.

"Really?" you mutter under your breath, crossing your arms. "Can’t a girl have a moment alone?"

Mephisto caw, of course, but you swear its head tilts just slightly, as if mocking your question.

"Fine..." You continue your way down the hall, the sense of restlessness grows within you, pushing you toward the one place that always offers some semblance of peace: the music room.

You reach the door, its heavy wood standing like a barrier between the silence of the house and the world you’re trying to escape. You push it open, stepping inside. The air is thick with the smell of aged wood and leather. The room feels different from the rest of the mansion—more alive, somehow. It’s Sylus’s private music library, a sanctuary filled with vintage records, all arranged with meticulous care.

The world slows down here, and you can breathe without the weight of questions pressing on your chest. You move closer to the shelves, your fingers grazing the edges of the records. Maybe you can find something to ease the tension, something to distract you from the chaos inside your heart.

Mephisto has perched himself on the arm of the chair nearby, you pull a record off the shelf at random. The cover is pretty without thinking too much, you slip the record onto the turntable, setting the needle in place. The faint crackle of the vinyl fills the air before smooth, cozy jazz begins to play, its mellow tones weaving a subtle warmth around the room. The sound wraps around you like a gentle hug.

You sink into the sofa, letting the smooth jazz fill the room and take the edge off your restless thoughts. The soft rhythm seeps into your chest, steady and comforting, grounding you in the moment. The warm glow of the room feels smaller, cozier, like a little bubble away from the world. For a second, it works. For a second, you let yourself breathe. But then your mind wanders, and the peace slips through your fingers.

How may moments you had with Sylus, where the tension between was unbearable? His finger moving softly under your chin forcing you to meet that piercing gaze of his. The other hand moving from your hip to your back.

The memory is enough to send a shiver through you, the same tightness blooming in your chest, the heat rising again. You whisper his name into the quiet, barely a sound, but it still feels too loud. Curling up on the couch, you press your knees to your chest, as if it’ll somehow contain the ache that’s spreading through you.

"I hope my name is the only one you pronounce like that, kitten."

You freeze at the sound of his voice, low and teasing, cutting through the music like a blade. Slowly, you look up, your pulse hammering in your chest. Sylus leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, his smirk sharper than ever. You sit up.

You feel your face heat up instantly. How long had he been standing there?

"I didn’t—" you start, but the words falter. What could you even say? Deny it? Explain it away?

Sylus steps into the room, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. "Relax," he says, his tone light but laced with that unmistakable edge. "I don’t mind being in your little head... especially if I’m keeping you awake."

Your heart skips as he stops a few steps away, looking down at you with that infuriating, unreadable expression.

"I... wasn't thinking about you" you mumble, your voice barely audible over the music.

"If you say so" he replies, his smirk deepening as he tilts his head.

Sylus closes the distance between you. He stops in front of you, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. The touch is light, almost gentle, but it sends a jolt through your entire body.

"You look awfully tense," he murmurs, his voice dipping into a velvety softness. His fingers trail down, tracing the line of your jaw before lifting your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

The intensity in his gaze steals your breath, every teasing word now layered with something much heavier, much darker. He leans down, close enough that you can feel the faint warmth of his breath against your lips.

"Tell me, kitten," he whispers, his tone impossibly smooth, "what exactly were you thinking about when you said my name like that?"

Your heart pounds so hard you’re sure he can hear it. His other hand moves, settling on the armrest of the couch, caging you in without ever touching you fully. The air between you is thick, charged with an electric tension that has you struggling to find your voice.

"I..." The words catch in your throat. Sylus doesn’t wait. His lips curve into a slow, knowing smirk.

"How about we play a little game?" he says, sitting down next to you.

You look at him, confused. "If you win, you can ask me to do whatever you want..."

A shiver runs down your spine. Your mind wanders to what that "whatever" could mean, and the thought of his lips on yours or his hands roaming your body makes your cheeks flush and you panties wet. Fuck. Playing games with Sylus is dangerous. It’s like making a deal with the devil. He looks at you intently, his gaze unwavering, and you swallow hard. Curiosity killed the cat, but despite knowing better, you ask anyway.

"What if I lose?"

Sylus chuckles softly, his voice laced with amusement.

"Then you do whatever I want, sweetie" he replies, his smirk widening. You tense for a moment. "Like going to bed so you can finally get some sleep." Your eyes dart around the room, trying to decide if this is a good idea.

"What game?" you ask finally, your curiosity winning out.

"I let you choose" he says, his tone casual but his expression far from innocent. It doesn’t guarantee victory, but at least it’s a starting point.

"And...?"

"Deal"

Well, you just sold your soul. Now you need to pick something that gives you even a shred of a chance. Sylus is good at nearly everything. You don't feel like playing Kitty Cards right now. You sigh, racking your brain for options. Luck might be your best bet. If you can’t outskill him, maybe you can outplay him. You need to play dirty at this, if you want to win.

"Black Jack" you declare, a sly smile forming on your lips.

Sylus raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your choice.

"As you wish," he says smoothly. Then, with an almost imperceptible glint in his eye, he adds, "I’ll call Luke and Kieran to deal for us."

It doesn’t take long before the table is set and the twins are in position, ready to play their role. Sylus, ever the gentleman when it suits him, guides you to your seat with a hand resting lightly on the small of your back.

You glance nervously at the cards and then at Sylus, who’s already settled in across from you, exuding his usual confidence. His eyes meet yours, and that devilish smirk reappears. "Ready, sweetie? Or are you already regretting this?"

"I've been born ready" you declare, exuding confidence as you sit down.

The rules are set: five rounds, with three wins needed to claim the prize. It feels fair, or at least as fair as any deal with Sylus could be.

The game begins, and each round feels like an eternity. Cards are dealt, your mind races, and every decision is accompanied by a bead of sweat forming on your forehead. Sylus, of course, looks completely unbothered, his smirk never faltering.

Despite your efforts—despite every ounce of strategy, luck, and sheer will—you lose.

Sylus leans back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression smug. "Well, kitten, I think we both know what that means."

As Sylus looks at the twins, they vanish without a word, leaving the room in eerie silence. He strides over to you with purpose, and before you can react, his hand grabs your arm.

"Wait—" you start, but the protest dies in your throat as Sylus effortlessly hoists you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. You squirming against his hold.

He laughs, the sound deep and infuriatingly smug. He carries you through the halls, ignoring your attempts to wriggle free, until he reaches his room. The door shuts behind him with a soft click locking the room, he sets you down gently in the center of his bed.

"What are you doing?" you ask, your voice shaky. Sylus smirks as he steps back, his hands moving to his shirt.

"It is not obvious? Claiming my prize" Your eyes widen as he pulls the shirt over his head, revealing his perfectly sculpted abs. No matter how many times you've seen them, the sight still makes your brain short-circuit. You try to look away, your face heating. A moment later, the bed shifts as Sylus lies down beside you. You turn onto your side, giving him your back, putting distance. You can´t look at him, not right now, when you feel that your whole body is burning in desire.

"Why are you hiding, kitten?"

"I- I'm not" you stammer, your voice betraying you. Sylus chuckles, pulling you closer until your back is pressed against his chest. His arms wrap around you, strong and secure, and he buries his nose in the curve of your neck.

"Yes, you are" he murmurs, his voice vibrating through you.

You swallow hard, your pulse thundering in your ears. "J-Just tell me what I need to do," you manage, barely above a whisper.

"I want you to show me something" Sylus says, his voice low and dripping with intent.

You blink, confused, your mind racing to catch up. But before you can ask what he means, you feel it—his nose brushing along, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin. Then comes the slow, deliberate drag of his tongue, sending a shiver down your spine.

"I think" his tone laced with amusement and far darker, "a naughty kitten was calling for me during her... private session."

His words are a sharp contrast to the gentle press of his lips against your pulse, and it feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. Your entire body tenses, heat flooding your face as realization slams into you like a tidal wave. Oh god! He heard you. Of course, he did. You made a terrible mistake, letting yourself get lost in your desires, thinking you were alone.

"I don’t know what you mean" you stammer, your voice shaky, unconvincing even to your own ears.

Sylus laughs softly, the sound more dangerous than comforting. "You don’t? Maybe I can help you replay how you sounded..."

Before you can respond, his teeth graze your neck, sharp and deliberate, before biting down just enough to make you gasp. The sharp sensation sparks through your body, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. Trapped in his hold, you feel completely at his mercy, and yet, every nerve in your body screams for more.

Sylus hums against your neck, the sound deep, amused, and entirely unhurried. "It’s still not enough" he murmured, his tone wickedly smooth, as if coaxing a confession from you.

You squirm in his grip. His teeth scrape against your skin, his grip tightening around you just enough to make your breath hitch. Your body betrays you, responding to the intoxicating mix of dominance and teasing. Before you can stop it, a small, high whimper escapes your lips.

Sylus stills for a moment, and then you feel his smirk against your neck. "There it is" he says softly, the satisfaction in his voice unmistakable. "Now... a deal is a deal. Show me what were you doing earlier." He press himself against you, you feel it. That's definitely not his phone.

Your face burns as you twist to look at him. "Were you spying on me?"

His smirk deepens, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh no, kitten. I’d never do such a thing." He leans closer. "I just wanted to make sure you were asleep and... I heard it through the door."

"How?" you demand, your embarrassment threatening to consume you.

He grins, sharp and taunting. "I have good hearing." he says, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Sylus shifts with deliberate ease, he maneuvers you onto your back, his body following closely. His arms cage you in, his legs bracketing yours, trapping you beneath him. Your jaw tightens as you glare at him, but it only seems to amuse him more. Sylus tilts his head, studying you like a predator does its prey.

"Don’t look so embarrassed" he says, his voice laced with mock sympathy. "You sounded... exquisite." You cover your face with your hands, groaning.

Sylus chuckles, his hand sliding down your arm to gently pull your hands away. His grip is firm but not forceful, his fingers brushing against your wrist as he brings your face back into view. He counters smoothly, leaning in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Now, kitten... show me." He nips lightly at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. His other hand slides up your leg.

You mind is spinning, you've been wanting this for a long time, every night, every day you spend with him. And now that he's noticed you, that he's created the perfect scenario. You click your tongue, frustrated with yourself, hating the cowardice you feel.

"I'll... do it" Sylus moves away, he looks a bit surprised over the words, but then his smiles returns and his expression change to a mix lust and possessiveness.

"Mmm, good girl," he purrs. He kneels back, giving you space.

You move to the top of the bed, positioning yourself against the pillows, your body halfway between sitting and lying down. Sylus watches your every move intently. His eyes follow the curve of your body, taking in the sight of you slowly, unhurriedly, getting comfortable.

Your hands disappear beneath the waistband of your shorts, out of his view, you fix your eyes on him, meeting his gaze, your own filled with a mixture of nervousness and desire. He watches you intently, his eyes never leaving your face as your hand moves slowly. You never thought your first time with him would be like this—a voyeuristic experience. This wasn’t just about him seeing you—it was about you letting him see. And the power in that, the sheer intimacy of it, made your pulse race even faster.

Fuck it! I'm giving him the show of his life.

His breathing is heavier, deeper, as he watches your facial expressions, as he sees the pleasure cross your features. You moan, your breath becoming heavier, send a jolt straight through him. His intense gaze flickers to your other hand as it disappears beneath your shirt. His lips part slightly, and though he doesn’t say a word, you know he’s imagining exactly what you’re doing. His hunger is palpable, his eyes darker, his breathing heavier, but he stays rooted in place, letting you show him everything.

You can feel the need growing within you, a burning desire that begs to be satisfied. You slide your hand down further, your finger slipping beneath the fabric of your panties seeking for relief. You're so goddamn wet. As you arch your back, your eyes closing momentarily, Sylus groans lowly. You increase the pace, your breath coming in quick, sharp gasps as you work yourself closer and closer to the edge.

As you get lost briefly in the pleasure, you forget for a moment that he is there, watching you with a hot, possessive gaze.

His body tenses and tremors as he tries to deal with the erection straining against his slacks. The sound of your whimpers is making him lose everything, he wants you, wants to touch you, to taste you, to possess you utterly. He can smell your arousal, his body coiled like a panther waiting to pounce. But he resists the urge instead, Sylus leans forward, moving slowly next to you, his face is now just a breath away from yours. His perfume surrounds you, filling your nose, you want him so bad. The desire burning in your stomach is even stronger now than it was when you were touching yourself just hours ago.

"Come for me," he whispers, his voice a low, silken murmur.

"Sylus..." You can't help but say his name. You don't want this moment to end—you don't want to come. Staying like this, feels so damn right it consumes you.

"Come for me," he repeats. "Let go... I want to see you come undone."

You're so close, so close to tipping over the edge, and he's there, waiting, watching.

"I don't know if I can..." you whine, your voice trembling with the effort of holding back.

"May I help you?" his voice low and seductive.

At this point, your body is burning with need, every nerve begging for him. You nod, unable to resist the pull anymore. Sylus tilts your chin toward him, his lips crashing onto yours in a deep, messy kiss that makes you feel dizzy with desire. A desperate moan slips from your lips as his kiss intensifies. Every movement, every brush of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. Sylus's kiss is all-consuming. You abandon what you were doing, your hands going to his shoulders, holding on to him tightly.

He breaks the kiss, his breath hot on your skin as he moves down to your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin.

He move you effortlessly, sitting you between his legs, your back resting against his bare chest. With quick, practiced movements, he pulls down your shorts and underwear, you lift your hips slightly to help. His hand spreads your legs and you give him full access to your body.

The touch of his hands against your skin, as they run up your legs, leaves a trail of fire in its wake. He pauses, resting on your inner thighs, gently rubbing and squeezing the sensitive flesh. He kisses your shoulder after that his lips leaves open-mouthed kisses and bites on your neck.

"Sylus... please" you whine.

He groans in response, his body tensing against yours. He can feel the pleading in your voice, the need that mirrors his own. You take his hand, guiding it up to your wetness, wanting, no, needing him to touch you, to give you what you desire so badly since you know him.

"So needy, aren't we?" he growls into your ear.

He teases you, moving around your opening, his touch light and almost taunting. Then, one finger finds your warmth, and you gasp aloud at the sensation. "So ready for me" his voice low and sultry. His finger moves in a slow, circular motion, building the tension, driving you insane. You move your hips against his hand, trying to get more contact.

"You're so eager" his free hand coming up to grip your hip, holding you in place. He speeds up the motion adding pressure and friction. "I guess you can take another finger" Without waiting for an answer, a second finger is added, stretching you further and eliciting a gasp of both pain and pleasure. You let your head fall back on his shoulder. Opening more of your legs.

"D- Don't stop"

His finger curls inside you, deliberate and skilled, seeking out that sweet spot that leaves you breathless. When he finds it, a sharp wave of pleasure courses through you, stronger than anything you’d ever imagined. Your body arches involuntarily, pressing into his touch as a moan slips out of you.

"There it's" he purrs.

Each movement of his hand is precise, teasing you closer and closer to the edge without letting you fall. His thumb brushes over your clit in a perfect rhythm, amplifying the sensation until you’re gasping for air.

"Sylus..." you whimper, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the exquisite feeling of him inside you, even if it’s just his finger. You hold on to his legs, your fingers sinking into the fabric of his pants as you try to hold on.

"That's it" he murmurs, his voice thick with hunger. "Claw at me. Mark me."

When he presses against that favourite spot again, your entire body tenses, a sharp cry escaping you.

"S- Sylus... I'm... close..." your words are a pleading gasp, your body trembling as you teeter on the edge.

He smirks, his pace unwavering, his dark red eyes locked onto your face. He feels you tightening around his fingers, senses the way your body is begging for release.

"Be a good girl," he growls, low and commanding, "and come on my hand."

You can feel the pressure building within you, the tension ratcheting higher and higher. Every touch, every whisper from Sylus, fuels the fire consuming you. You're so close now, teetering on the edge, at this point you're just whimpers. His other hand slides beneath your shirt, his fingers expertly teasing and pinching your nipple, sending sharp jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

He whispers in your ear, his voice a low, sultry command. "Let go, love. Come for me."

Your mouth goes dry as you try to catch up your breath, every nerve of your body alight with the intensity of the moment. You can barely breathe, your chest heaving as you try to cling to some semblance of control. But his voice, paired with the relentless rhythm of his fingers and the possessive way his body surrounds yours, is too much.

A broken cry tears from your throat as the tension finally snaps. Your body shuddering uncontrollably as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you trembling and undone. Sylus keeps his hand on you, his fingers still inside, coaxing every last ripple of your release.

When your breathing begins to steady, he finally withdraws his fingers, leaving you with a sharp pang of emptiness that only deepens the need swirling in your chest. His face is buried in your neck, his breath hot on your skin.

"That was the most fucking cute whimper I've ever heard"

Before you can even think of a reply, Sylus turns you in his grip, his lips crashing against yours. The kiss is fierce and consuming, all teeth and passion, his possessiveness pouring out in every movement. His hand tangles in your hair as he claims you completely, his body pressing into yours as if he can’t bear to be apart for even a moment.

The fabric of your shirt became a frustrating barrier to his touch, his impatient evident in the way his fingers trace along it, desperate to feel your skin "I want you" he growls into your skin, his voice rough with need.

"I think you had claim your prize already" you manage to say, voice shaky.

Sylus laughs, the sound dark and knowing. "Technically, you didn’t fulfill your part of the deal. So…" he says, the amusement clear in his tone. You feel him press his hard dick against your back, making your body heat up again. His hands tighten around your waist as he looks down at you with that trademark smirk. "...I want you instead."

[e04kj0125]

oh wow this was so sdlkfs

ᡣ𐭩 sylus | cockwarming ᡣ𐭩

sylus needs you to stick around. 

he doesn’t like when you try to leave for linkon after spending the night together, persuading you to stay with slow, syrupy kisses that have your knees weak and a fog rolling over your mind, clouding all rational judgment. 

sylus knows how to make you needy. he’ll give you as many kisses as you want, stroke your pussy through your panties until your cunt is wet with slick, but he won’t fuck you. instead, he pulls you up onto his lap, trousers pushed down and your panties discarded on the edge of his desk as he helps you sink down on his cock.

he hushes your whimpers and soft mewls by pressing soothing kisses to your forehead and guides your head into the crook of your neck, large hand rubbing over your back as he works on whatever situation requires attention. your pussy clenches around him every now and then, whimpers dying down as the warmth of his body lulls you to sleep.

sylus fucks you after of course - he’s not that cruel. you wake up to the feeling of his mouth on your breasts, your fingers running through his hair as he lifts you up onto his desk, fucking you with slow, rolling thrusts that have your eyes rolling back.

it’s addicting for him, to have you close, body flush against his. sylus gets carried away sometimes, pulls you into meetings under false pretenses of needing a different perspective only to jostle you up onto his lap, his lithe fingers pulling your panties to the side so he can stuff his cock into your pussy. your initial gasps of surprise are quietened by his lips of yours, his eyes narrowing when he catches the inconsequential vermin of the n109 zone staring at you leeringly.

he keeps you on his cock for the entirety of the meetings, rewarding with soft kisses every now and then, sweet little pecks that make your eyes light up in the way he likes. the meetings tend to finish early, sylus’ men entering to find you curled into their boss’ arms, asleep and sated, while those that garnered sylus’ wrath lay sprawled across the floor,  unconscious. 

sylus has you cockwarm him the drive home, his hands squeezing at your waist in the backseat of the car, your arms wrapped around his neck as you makeout lazily. soon after, you both stumble into his room and he laughs, scooping you up into his arms and guides his cock into you, his words a low, slurring mess, utterly drunk on the feeling of your pussy hugging his cock.

“don’t go,” he murmurs sleepily when you rouse from your sleep, eyes darkening when he sees the marks he left on your body last night, hips covered in pretty, blossoming bruises.

“i have to,” you mumble, rolling towards the edge of the bed only to have his evol curling around your body and pulling you back into him.

you try again and again, groaning and shoving your face into his chest when his evol keeps bringing you back to him. “dork.”

sylus smiles into your hair, fingers smoothing over your bruised hips gently.

“i love you.”

he’d like to keep you here for a little longer. 

forever, preferably.

[hauntedbysmut]

join me in my sylus brainrot. these are my own interpretations/views. mildly nsfw.

this man would absolutely ruin you for other men. I'm talking take you over mind, body, and soul and have you wanting him at all hours, needing his nearness. the depth of his devotion is such a drug and honestly, bring on the addiction.

he gives me major scent marking vibes. giving you a tongue bath and covering you in him so that at any point, he can smell himself on you, in you. also biting. marking in places where only you two know you're marked and then having additional smaller indicators to others that you are definitely taken. he loves to make your skin a tapestry of his love that you get to see every time you look in the mirror.

talking about desire, he is all about yours. whatever you want, material or physical, he will get it for you/give it to you. you want a plushie? he's obviously not above using his evol to get it for you. you want a night in just cooking together? he's already got kieren and luke out buying ingredients to make your favorite dish. you want to get wrecked in bed? he's got the toys, ties, and blindfold waiting on the chaise in the bedroom.

while he's definitely into physical touch, words of affirmation and quality time are his top two needs. he craves validation that you're enjoying yourself and him, and after so long apart (thinking about him post-myth, poor sweet bean), he needs that time with you doing whatever -- cooking, cleaning, listening to music, rotting in bed on the weekend, going on trips -- as long as you're together, he doesn't care what you're doing.

everyone agrees that he has a rough side when it comes to sex, but he definitely gives off soft pleasure dom vibes to me. he'll be as rough as you want him to be, but the aftercare is paramount, and while he'll call you whatever names you want in a praising or degrading way during sexual acts, he only wants to hear his own name from your lips. those intimate moments are when he wants to be identified most as the one who is entangled with you. after all, you are his number one priority, and he will not be denied your pleasure after all this time.

[shomatoriashi]

12/17/24; 01:45pm

sylus x fem.reader

notes: @voidsylus as an obligatory tag, bc you’re one of my biggest sylus readers (⺣◡⺣)♡

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

snow was felt falling all around you, making your breaths come out in gentle puffs of air. a blindfold settled over your eyes hinders your vision as you had to cling to your lover for support. with comforting words, sylus coaxes you to take slow steps forward while wrapping his arms around you to keep you from slipping on the ground still slick with ice.

"almost there, love, just hang tight for a few more seconds." you manage to give him a nod in response, with your teeth chattering from being exposed to the biting chill of the winter air. after taking another step forward, a burst of warmth was felt surrounding the entirety of your body, making you let out a relieved sigh. basking in your sounds of relief, sylus lets out a chuckle before gently untying your blindfold, finally revealing his surprise for you.

your breath hitches at the scene settled before you, and you found yourself standing in the midst of a cozy living room. the scent of wood burning from the fireplace helps with warming up the entirety of your form, with you stepping closer to the heat in hopes of further warming yourself. you let out a pleased hum, warming up your hands close to the flames, turning your head slightly to see sylus bringing in the rest of your luggage before shutting the door.

"a cabin getaway? i didn't think a man of your class and caliber would be interested in such mundane things." you tease sylus, earning a scoff from him. setting your respective belongings to the side, sylus joins you, wrapping his arms around your abdomen while pressing a kiss against your hair. "who said i was above using a cabin as a vacation spot? and besides..." sylus trails off, playfully biting down on your earlobe before whispering in your ear, "it's nice to be thousands of miles away from the twins and get some peace and quiet for once."

you end up giggling in response to his words, leaning into his chest, "you actually trust the twins to behave?" sylus clicks his tongue, giving your earlobe another playful bite, "relax, mephisto will keep his eyes on them at all times. i'll receive any alerts if there are any explosions set off in the n109 zone." his statement succeeds in making you laugh even more, earning a smirk from him before he gives your backside a gentle smack, "but enough about them, let's simply bask in the moment and enjoy our time together."

excitement courses through your veins when you join sylus in the kitchen, helping him cook a hearty stew to help with further warming you up. throughout it all, you snuck in kisses in between chopping the ingredients and marinating the beef for the stew. once you were finished making dinner, sylus proceeds to spread out one of the blankets in front of the fireplace so that you could relax and bask in the warmth of the fireplace after dinner.

with the steaming bowl in your hand, you and sylus sit next to each other on the couch. a silly grin was plastered on your face during the entirety of your meal, with you resting your head against sylus's shoulder. no words were spoken as you both ate in a comfortable silence.

however, whereas you were simply enjoying the moment, sylus had a few things swirling within his mind-

specifically, how much you were pressing yourself against him, your warmth seemingly seeping into him while giving him memories of you pinned beneath him, panting and needy as your breathy moans fills the air.

with your bowl completely emptied, sylus silently takes it away from you, pressing a kiss against your temple before beckoning you to relax on the blankets settled in front of the fireplace. giving sylus another chaste kiss against his lips, you heed his gentle commands and settle yourself in front of the fireplace.

your eyes take in the fiery hues, basking in the reddish flames with a content smile on your face. the only sounds you could hear were of the running water coming from the sink as sylus washes your dirtied bowls. a few minutes later, even when sylus joins you on the blankets, you did not tear your gaze away from the flickering flames. while admiring the fire, a new warmth surrounds you in the form of sylus's powerful arms wrapped around you. he manages to settle you on his lap, seeming to use his limbs to further help with cocooning you within his embrace.

"are you comfortable, sweetie?" he asks, feeling his hot breath tickling at your skin when you let out a hum of agreement. with his arms still wrapped tightly around you, you remain silent, thinking nothing of sylus's need to be close to you.

however, that all changes the moment you felt his large hands traveling down the length of your body, managing to slip beneath the fabric of your sweater when he hotly whispers in your ear, "can i tell you a fantasy of mine?"

feeling your throat turning dry at the seductive tone in his voice, you could only manage to give him a nod, shivering when you felt the way his chest vibrates in amusement with his deep chuckles, "i've always fantasized of ways to keep you warm during the harsh winters like this. in my head, you are naked, practically glowing like a goddess from beneath the light of the fireplace. your heart would be racing for me, and your expression would be so shy, never once looking away from me as i kiss every inch of your skin."

a wave of desire was felt coursing through your veins as a familiar ache was felt between your legs. noticing the shift within your demeanor, sylus proceeds to lick at the shell of your ear before asking, "will you let my fantasy come true, sweetie?"

at first, you only managed to give him a weak nod, earning another light nip from him as he bit down against the side of your neck. "use your words, sweetie, i want to hear you say it."

"y-yes, sylus. i don't mind m-making your fantasies come true."

with your consent, sylus takes a moment to breathe in your scent, "that's my girl..."

needing no further urging, sylus suddenly slides you out of his lap and onto the floor, your back meeting with the blankets as you lay back and looked up at him from your lashes. heat was felt settled against your cheeks as your heart raced with anticipation at what was to come. your lover hovers over you, crimson eyes slowly being eclipsed with desire for you.

his hands were gentle as they slowly take off your boots and socks, tossing them aside before gripping at your clothes. from sliding off your sweater to unbuttoning your blouse and jeans, he removes each article of clothing with a care and expertise befitting of a man who remains madly in love with you. left in the lace material of your undergarments, you felt the way sylus's gaze seems to burn while raking down your form, making you feel shy when you suddenly lift up your arms to cover at your chest.

"there's no need to hide yourself from me, love." sylus reassures you in a gruff tone, hands already gripping at your wrists to move them away from your clothed breasts. "after all, there isn't a single part of you that's imperfect in my eyes."

warmth fills you, helping you relax while beneath his loving gaze. seeing your expression change and the trust in your eyes, you reaffirm it with a single nod. with that last acknowledgment, sylus frees your hands before working on unclasping your bra and sliding off your panties.

once you were completely bare for him, sylus takes a moment to admire your form and the way the fire paints you in an almost ethereal light. he smiles down at you, shaking his head while calling himself a lucky bastard. he moves away from you for a moment, stepping out of his own boots before shedding his sweater and jeans, revealing the entirety of his naked body to you before sliding off his boxers. your mouth goes dry upon seeing the powerful erection settled between his legs, earning a smirk from sylus when he takes a hold of your chin and tilts it upwards, "my eyes are up here, sweetie."

feeling embarrassed, you quickly moved your face away from his grip, unable to meet his gaze as the heat seemed to spread all across your skin. the sounds of his rich laughter only serves to heighten your embarrassment, feeling his powerful body lay on top of yours as his lips began littering your features with butterfly kisses.

"relax, darling, i don't mind if you look at me... in fact, your gaze only serves to make my cock that much harder for you." as if proving his point, you feel the way the tip of his cock traces at your inner thighs, managing to earn a low moan from you as you felt your slick walls clench with need for him.

pressing one last kiss against your cheek, sylus gently grabs at your chin, "watch my every move, sweetie. don't you dare look away from me as i work on worshipping every inch of you."

with your breathing coming out slightly labored, you watch as sylus purposely kisses down your skin, hiding his face within the curve of your neck before kissing down the length of your shoulder. with each lingering kiss came a slow and languid lick against your skin, the sensual friction of it all causing goosebumps of anticipation to erupt all across your body.

his kisses continue, even lingering when he manages to reach the curve of your breasts. he gives them equal amounts of attention, with your back arched against the blankets the moment his tongue curls around your hardened nipples. it was getting harder for you to keep your eyes open, the pleasure he was giving you being so overwhelming that you felt the ache between your legs become even more potent in response.

taking note of your whimpers, sylus frees your heaving breasts from his mouth with an audible pop!, licking his lips before continuing his descent down your body, not stopping until he was directly settled in front of your heat. "mmm, as always, you smell so sweet for me." his heated gaze meet with your eyes when he presses a lingering kiss against your inner thighs, breathing in your scent as a shudder courses through him.

"you smell sweeter than ambrosia, my love, i'm certain of it." he continues kissing at the silken skin of your inner thighs while using his pointer finger to trace at your pussy lips, collecting your honeyed arousal while admiring how shiny it left that single digit. "you are divine my love," sylus tells you with a groan, finally moving away from your inner thighs as he faces your slick folds, "and i need to get a better taste of you."

with your back arched against the blankets, you cried out to him the moment you felt his hot mouth against your aching sex. his tongue continues to trace at your outer lips, groaning each time the pure taste of you fills his senses as he worked on devouring you like a man starved. your hands automatically go to his hair, allowing his tongue and fingers to reach further into you until you were left seeing stars.

sylus's ministrations on your body left you panting, filling you with need as you blindly reached out to him. while he worked on swallowing the evidence of your release, you felt the ache simply increase each time his tongue laps at your slick walls, languidly licking away the rest of your release while groaning. by now, you were left begging for him to just give it to you already, nails clawing at the blankets as your mind was being filled with the need to have something big thrusting inside of you.

sylus seems to share your sentiments, his cock felt brushing against the underside of your cunt when he grips at your ankles, pulling you even closer to his powerful frame. guiding the tip of his cock against you, he traces it around your outer lips before slowly sheathing himself within your heat, tossing his head back with a groan as he made sure to give you every inch of him.

"you always take me so well, sweetie." sylus tells you with a shuddering gasp of your name, hands framing at your face in an almost reverent manner before beginning to thrust in and out of you. the squelching sounds of your center gripping at sylus's large cock echoes throughout the room, making you toss your head back as your lover swiftly pounds himself between your legs. feeling drunk off of the pleasure and the mere sight of you swallowing his cock so eagerly makes sylus's head spin.

"fuck." a string of curses escapes from sylus's parted lips when he takes one of your legs and tosses it over his shoulders, the position helping him reach that much deeper inside of you as you cried out to him. the tightness felt in your abdomen snaps a mere few moments later as you spilled yourself on his cock with a soft mewl of pleasure, causing sylus's hips to stutter briefly before stilling.

your heart was racing, and you fought to catch your breath. as you tried to come down from your intense high, sylus simply leans over you with a smirk on his face. he caresses at your damp cheeks, giving you a moment to compose yourself when he takes a hold of your hand to press a kiss at the back of it.

"how are you feeling, my love?" he asks with the same smug expression painting his handsome features. you manage to weakly glare at him, "you idiot, you already know you gave me one of the best orgasms of my life, so why play dumb?"

he chuckles in response to your question, "i suppose you are right. however..." you feel him pressing another kiss before against your knuckle before ramming his cock back inside of you, making your eyes widen. this was the moment you realized that sylus had yet to climax, somehow managing to hold off on releasing the moment your walls tightened around him.

"consider this an early christmas gift, sweetie, where i spend the whole night gifting you with pleasure." a wolfish grin paints his expression as he slides his cock in and out of your heat, "now the question remains... just how many times can i take you to heaven before morning arrives?"

end notes: i am such a s l u t for sylus, sorry not sorry, but this man can trap me in a cabin and make love to me for as long as he needs to 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[nunupaws]

sylus oneshot

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in which sylus somehow ends up high for the first time, and although you want to find the twins and ask them if they had a hand in it, sylus is stoned and needs your attention first.

inspired by this art on twitter <3 and this little ramble of mine.

wc: 3.2k, no caps; smut, soft sylus, pet names, mentions of drug use, afab reader. MDNI

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the first time you'd tried to tell sylus smoking was bad for his lungs, he'd just looked at you for a moment, cigarette hanging between his lips, before they curled up in an amused smirk. then he'd pulled out his vintage lighter and lit up before bending to flick your forehead, eyes glinting.

"oh~? is miss goody two shoes hunter saying she has no vices of her own?"

then he'd taken a drag, removed the cigarette from between his lips and lightly blown secondhand smoke in your face, the grey wisps furling lecherously out of his mouth and washing over you, the smell acrid but tinged with the tang of his breath.

then he'd chuckled as he watched you cough and sputter and bat away the smoke, straightening up and going about his merry way and leaving you to huff and puff and struggle with your feelings. because, well, smoking was bad.

but what he'd done had been....kind of hot. yeah, your heart was beating like a hummingbird in your chest and your belly had swooped down to your toes when you felt his smoky breath blow over your face, those pert lips curling picturesquely around the grey fumes.

after that you'd consoled yourself with the fact that you'd straight up shot this man in the heart and he'd survived. a stick of tobacco wasn't going to kill him.

right?

it made sense the more you thought about it. of course sylus smoked. sylus, the leader of onychinus, overlord of the underworld. it would have been an aesthetic crime for the mob boss to not carry around a pack of marlboros and a vintage lighter that he'd gotten off an auction for upwards of ten million.

you'd made another weak attempt, though, when you tried to bring up the environmental impact of the smoke. sylus had been perched on his leather couch, legs crossed smartly and eyes focused on a book through silver rimmed glasses. he was halfway through his second cigarette, heavy marble ashtray to the side.

at your words, he'd taken his time, marking his place in his book and setting it aside primly before turning to you, wordlessly beckoning you over with a crook of his long finger. when you'd balked, he simply whisked you into his lap with his evol, ignoring your gasp of surprise as he took out his cigarette with two fingers. he cupped your chin, tapping ash to the side with practiced grace as he leaned in and kissed you, swallowing your "hmph!" and exhaling smoke right into your mouth.

you'd gasped and coughed and sputtered as he held you in place, one wide hand cupping the back of your head as his lips slid against yours, ensuring not a single wisp of smoke escaped between the two of you. your whimpers had simply elicited a deep chuckle from him, and then he'd parted, breaths hot on your face and eyes dark as he watched you cough out his smoke, your lips glistening prettily and face deliciously flushed.

"hm~? you were saying, kitten?" he murmured, reaching to brush his fingers along your blush, cigarette pinched between his knuckles. you could only pant up at him, smoke still lingering in your mouth and on your tongue, and with another lazy smirk he'd leaned back in again, grinding out his cigarette as he lavished his attention on you.

"if my habits concern you so," he'd murmured against your lips, arms curling around you, "will you allow yourself to be my remedy?"

after that you had stopped nagging him. and if sylus noticed, he didn't bring it up.

so, yeah. sylus smoked.

unfortunately, so did luke and kieran. and not just tobacco.

figuring out what odd blends those two were on would have to be put on hold, you decide presently as you wander into sylus's lounge to find him...in a state, of sorts. the mafia boss is slumped back in his leather couch, cigarette held between his lips as usual and his tux slightly ruffled. if his odd posture isn't a dead giveaway something isn't quite right, his glazed over red gaze suffices to make the point.

you balk, just staring at him for a moment. he hasn't bothered to undress from wherever he'd been to, laying back in the couch in his dress pants and tux, white dress shirt creased. long legs ending in socked feet stretch out before him, head leaning back and chest rising and falling steadily. smoke furls from his nostrils, and even from the distance you can catch a faint whiff of Not Tobacco. it is something that is concerningly similar to the fumes hanging around the twins when you'd passed them on your way up to find sylus.

you wouldn't put it past the twins to sneak weed into their boss's cigarette, but again, you have more pressing matters than figuring that out when sylus has clearly already ingested the herbs and is well on his way to astral projecting himself into another realm.

"mm....kitten..?"

his slurred murmur has you jumping- you hadn't expected him to notice you. his voice was deep and a bit rough around the edges, like how it is in the evenings when he wakes up. you gingerly scuttle over, peering down at him in the dim light. the fumes are stronger here, and yup- definitely something the twins had procured from some seedy corner of the N109.

sylus's lidded eyes peek back up at you, lips twitching softly around his cigarette.

"kitten," he murmurs. "i missed you."

you blink, stilling for a moment while he lazily reaches up to gently twirl a strand of your hair between his fingers, continuing to gaze up at you muzzily. you've seen sylus behind the walls he usually keeps up around himself, yes, but this is....different. this isn't an oh-i'm-being-vulnerable-in-front-of-you moment.

this is a....i-feel-safe-with-you unguardedness.

you swallow, finally beginning to smile as the reality sets in. sylus is high.

"yeah?" you hum, perching on the arm of his couch. his arm comes around your hips to hold you in place, his warm hand idly caressing your thigh as he lets out a humming sigh of agreement, leaning his head on your chest and looking up at you in hazy adoration.

"mm," he agrees, the tip of his cigarette burning softly. you notice the ash staining his dark tux up close, and realize he's just been sitting with the cigarette between his lips for a while. you reach out, gently pinching it out from between his lips and leaning to tap ash into his ashtray on the coffee table. sylus blinks, discombobulated, but merrily watches you with mild interest.

he accepts the cigarette back with another hum, barely seeming to notice as you attempt to brush ash off his expensive tux.

"oh, don't bother, kitten. i'll have it cleaned," he murmured, reaching up to catch your wrist. he presses your palm to his cheek, eyes sliding shut as he hums again, nuzzling into your touch. your smile widens, thumb caressing his cheek.

"you're a bit strange today, aren't you?" you tease, deciding you should take full advantage of his docile constitution.

his brow furrows ever so slightly, and he takes his time, rubbing against your palm, before he mumbles around his cigarette.

"am i?" he muses, eyes opening a crack. "i suppose....i am feeling...a bit odd."

he pauses, cheek resting in your palm as he gazes off into space, contemplating god knows what in that muddled brain of his. you giggle, nudging him.

"sylus?"

"mm?"

oh, he's already forgotten. oh, this is just too good.

"sylus," you giggle again, your other hand coming to cup his face and tilting his gaze up to yours.

"sylus, you're smoking weed."

he gazes up at you for a moment, still puffing those incriminating fumes, and then blinks once, slowly.

"weed," he repeats. you nod, unable to help another giggle.

"weed," you agree. "like luke and kieran. you're high, sylus."

again, another adorable, hazy stare. another disoriented blink.

"high," he echoes. you bend to nuzzle his forehead.

"high," you agree gently, grinning. he hums in pleasure at the contact, trying to nuzzle you back, cigarette and all. you chuckle, carefully holding his face still and continuing to nuzzle him while avoiding the burning tip poking out of his mouth. he relaxes further, a deep, rumbling hum in his chest as he lightly rubs against you as much as your hold on him will allow. he's surprisingly pliant like this, like a lazy house cat in the sun receiving pets.

"....i'm high?" he murmurs eventually. you laugh, pulling back to look down at his zoned out expression.

"yes, sylus. you're high," you patiently reiterate. he regards you for a moment, and you can practically see his numb brain cells trying to kick his neurons into action behind his eyes.

"is that why i'm feeling strange?" he asks. you raise an eyebrow.

"what are you feeling?"

sylus lets out a heavy sigh, and you wince as smoke billows in your face.

"that."

it takes you a moment to see his hand pointing lazily, and you squint, following his finger to his lap and- oh.

he's hard. a very obvious tent that you're pretty sure wasn't there a moment ago is straining against the zipper and button of his dress pants.

"...oh," you manage. so he's that kind of stoner.

"mhm," he agrees, his other hand continuing to pet your thigh absently. "what should we do about it, kitten?"

normally, he'd be cheeky and swipe you down on your knees with his evol with a simple "help me," as his eyes glint down at you. but like this, he seems perfectly content with letting you play this however you like, despite the obvious strain of his cock.

you smile, taking his cigarette to tap ash once more before returning it to his pliant mouth.

"let me take care of you," you purr, fingers lightly stroking down his chest. his brows quirk drowsily as he regards you.

"you'd do that for me, sweetie?"

you can't help but soften, cupping his cheek once more.

"of course i will," you assure him, watching as he nuzzles once more into your palm. he hums happily as you kiss his forehead and shift, proceeding to slide off his lap and sinking onto your knees between his legs. his chest heaves deeply as he watches you with those same glazed over eyes as you stroke your hands up his plentiful thighs to his belt. you take your time, unbuckling him gently and watching as his bulge twitches at the action. yet he's still so very muzzy, a far cry from his usual impatience and restrained neediness when you tease him. usually, by now, his legs are fidgeting and tendons jutting in his neck, hands curled into fists and nostrils flared.

you let out a soft breath as you undo his pants and gently tug them down, revealing his cock straining against his briefs which are admittedly not doing much to contain him anymore. you peek up and see his chest heaving more, breaths heavy and eyes reduced to hazy slits as he watches you, smoke billowing from his nostrils.

"kitten," he mumbles as you catch his eye, the word slurred but hoarse.

"shh," you soothe, slowly hooking your fingers into his underwear. "looks like those herbs have you acting up, hm?"

sylus says nothing, managing to shift his hips so you can pull down his briefs as well. he shudders as his heavy, swollen cock flops out into the open, a grunt escaping him as his face screws up a bit.

you drink in the familiar sight, reaching to cup his heavy balls lightly. your working theory is that he's oversensitive while high, and his reaction doesn't disappoint as his brow furrows more, head falling back with a loud groan.

"oh! mnh...kitten," he breathes around the cigarette. "oh....you're so good, darling..."

you can't resist an amused huff as you continue to fondle him gently. it's not like he's normally stingy with his praise. he just doesn't lose his composure so quickly. you haven't even applied your mouth to him and he's twitching and squirming in his seat.

"yeah?" you hum softly, finally wrapping your hand around the girth of his darkened cock. "does that feel good?"

sylus groans at the sensation, cock twitching in your grasp as his fingers clutch at the armrests of the couch tightly.

"k..kitten....fuck," he grunts, toes curling as you stroke him, tracing the familiar veins and watching his tip darken further, precum beginning to well up over his slit. keeping your eyes on him, you lean forwards and slowly, slowly part your lips and slide your mouth down over his cock.

sylus gasps, cigarette nearly falling from his lips before they purse tightly around it, head falling back as his brow furrows. his legs fidget around you, heels rubbing against the carpet as the sensation of your hot, wet mouth overwhelms his drug addled senses. you hum around him, beginning to suck and gently bob your head up and down his length as far as you can take him, your hands continuing to rub and fondle at the portion you can't handle.

sylus's breaths are heavy, deep rumbles in his chest as he tries to hold himself together, hips canting weakly against your mouth. a low moan escapes him, and you finally feel the familiar weight of his wide palm on the back of your head.

"hngh....sweetie..."

his hand is usually a guiding force on your head, fingers gently but firmly grasping your hair as he pushes you up and down his cock. you wait for the satisfying tug on your scalp, but instead feel a slow, steady thump-thump as he pets you instead.

swallowing around him, you peek up at him. his head has come forwards again, and you meet his gaze as he looks down his cigarette at you drunkenly, eyes still lidded and hazy as ever.

"mnh...keep...keep going, kitten," he murmurs, legs shifting to push you closer and cage around you. "s..such a good girl...taking such good care of me..."

his hand continues the steady pat-pat motion on your head, each thump of his heavy hand bobbing your mouth on his cock. sylus is notorious for headpats- he can't resist ruffling your hair when he sees you doing something he deems positively adorable, like petting a stray cat or simply existing in general.

your stomach flutters as his other arm settles around your shoulders, supporting the back of your neck as you continue to suck him off. his hips aren't fucking up into your mouth with their usual fervor, simply twitching and bucking lightly because of how, well, stoned the weed is getting him.

oh, but his cock is hard as ever, in need of your attention.

"my good girl...my sweet kitten," he slurs, eyes glazed over as he looks down at you adoringly around his cock. "mnh...just like that..."

his fingers massage your scalp in slow, steady motions, and you can feel your own eyes threatening to roll back as warm tingles erupt down your spine. you let out a soft moan around his cock, sucking more sloppily as the warmth of his legs around you and soothing touch on your scalp relaxes you.

"mm...there you go," he purrs, fingers digging into your roots and scritching slowly. "sweet little kitten, feeling so good around my cock..."

you lick a stripe up the underside of his cock, and he sucks in a shaky breath, shuddering. his fingers tighten in your hair before slowly relaxing as the wave of pleasure rolls over him. the sudden tug does have your eyes rolling back this time, and you moan once more around him, sinking your head deeper onto him. his head rubs up against the roof of your mouth before sliding in deeper, hitting every spot of your oral fixation. you hollow out your cheeks, saliva dripping down your bottom lip into his lap as you renew your efforts to pleasure him.

you can hear him grunt and gasp softly, thighs flexing around you as he continues to hold your head steadily in his lap.

"good girl...good girl," is all he can manage as you taste more precum filling your mouth. "oh, darling, hm-"

he lifts away one of his hands to pull out his cigarette, and he bends to kiss the crown of your head.

"just like that, sweetie...i'm...so close..." he gasps, and his head leaning on yours sends you sinking deeper on to his cock, throat convulsing as your easily triggered gag reflex rears up.

"oh, shh..." he quickly removes the pressure, lifting your head back to a more economical height, heavy hands petting and stroking your head soothingly. "mm, there you go....hush, baby....keep being good for me."

his fingers resume the slow scritches and headpats, your nose buried into his pubes so you can't see the way his eyes are rolling back. you do feel his belly flexing against your nose, however, and know he's close.

you nuzzle into his pubes, reaching to fondle his balls once more to push him on towards his orgasm. his belly jumps again under your nose, fingers grasping your head firmly once more.

"kitten-"

you bob your head back, tongue swirling around his tip and giving it a hard suck. then you mewl in surprise as he yanks your head back down all the way, hips pressing up into your mouth. it's the only sign of roughness he's shown this whole time, and as he groans loudly, you know it's the last.

his hips stutter as cum shoots into your mouth down your throat, his moan loud in the otherwise quiet lounge. you manage to swallow most of him, but he just keeps coming, probably a testament to how fucking sensitive he is while under the influence. you cough and sputter, cum dripping out of your mouth down his cock and onto his lap. his hips stay firmly pressed into your mouth as he rides out his high, pumping his load into your mouth. when he finally slumps back, panting hoarsely, you pull back to wipe at your mouth and chin, coughing a bit more and peering up at him.

his cigarette is finally gone, dropped god knows where, lips parted around his heavy breaths. his head is stretched back, eyes screwed shut as his softening cock twitches in his lap.

you go after it, obediently licking away the cum that dribbled out of your mouth. he shudders at the sensation, a full body move, and with a twitch of his hand his evol is pulling you up off your knees and away from his cock into his lap.

"hah....i'm....'m sensitive, kitten," he mumbles by way of explanation, tugging you close and burying his face into your neck. as he mouths hot, wet kisses there, you shiver, becoming aware of the wetness between your legs that must've seeped out while you were sucking him off.

"shh," he soothes, holding you tighter, breath tickling you as he continues to kiss and lick at your throat. "my good kitten...my sweet kitten...such a good girl for me..."

your arms find their way around his neck, clinging to him as you squirm against his kisses. he pulls back to nuzzle your face warmly, pressing a kiss to your lips without further ado. his lips are warm and spicy as always on yours, and the added hit of the aftertaste of weed has your stomach curling pleasantly.

"now, kitten," he murmurs against your lips, a hand sliding between your thighs, "let me take care of you, yes? and then we'll go have a chat with the twins."

you giggle despite your impending horniness, parting your legs for him.

"okay <3"

-fin

[nanamiscocksleeve]

5 Sylus? 🥺

Glad to see you back!

"Let’s pretend to be presents and get laid under the tree."

--------

You're tiptoeing precariously on a stool, trying to put the finishing touch, a star, on top on the Christmas tree, when a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist.

You gasp as your feet leave the stool, then laugh exasperatedly as Sylus holds you steady so that you can place the ornament. "You could have just asked me for help kitten," Sylus chides playfully as you top the tree. He sets you down and you huff.

"I couldn't find you. Besides I had it handled."

"Sure you did. That's why you were tottering so dangerously on that stool, like a baby bird that had never flown before."

You roll your eyes at his words, then turn around to admore your handiwork. The tree looked festive and bright, bringing a touch of holiday cheer into the otherwise monotonous looking mansion.

"Now we just have to get out Christmas shopping done. We can make an evening of it, wrapping them up while drinking some warm cocoa."

"You have it all planned out don't you sweetie?" Sylus pulls you into a warm embrace. "Who are you planning on buying presents for?"

"Luke and Kieran. Mephisto..." You purposefully trail off, watching Sylus quirk an eyebrow.

"And?" he prompts, but you giggle.

"That's all!" you say playfully, waiting to see his response.

However, he wasn't falling for the bait. Instead, he says in amused drawl, "Great! I was running out of storage space for all your thoughtful nothings." His lips curl into a smile at the petulant look that falls on your face.

"Thoughtful nothings?" You ask indignantly. "Fine. I wasn't planning on not getting you a present but it looks like it won't be missed anyway." You turn on your heel to walk away but your arm is yanked back by Sylus almost instantly, and he pulls you firmly against his chest.

"What a grumpy little kitten you are. You need some holiday cheer." His lips dip down to the back of your neck, sending a heated rush down your spine that makes you shiver. You try to maintain a cool facade.

"I'm not grumpy. If you didn't like my gifts you could have just said so."

"I never said I don't like them," Sylus purrs soothingly in your ear, sending another skitter of excitement through you. "I merely said I'm running out of room for them."

"Oh don't get get clever with me." Your facade is already cracking apart, and you let out a sigh as Sylus presses a kiss to the tip of your head. "We'd better get going anyway. Shopping will take at least another two hours or so."

"Are you sure you want to go now? It's snowing quite terribly outside."

You turn to look out the window and sure enough, the sidewalk is obscured by a thick sheet of snow that could easily reach your calves. "Well there goes that," you say dejectedly at the sight.

"Don't be so disheartened kitten. We can have a perfectly good time indoors. Now since it's the lack of presents that gotten you so down," Sylus steers you back towards the decorated Christmas tree, "Let’s pretend to be presents and get laid under the tree."

You choke at his words, laughter welling up your throat. "What?" You see his eyes crinkling good-naturedly as he gestures to the uncovered base of the tree.

"I wasn't joking. The twins are off running an errand. It's just us." His words fall over you and bring a feeling of anticipation in the pit of your stomach. You legs feel like jello as you walk towards him and Sylus gently helps you lay down on the thick carpet, mimicking the motion as his large frame settles next to you. Gathering you in his arms, he lays his lips over yours, capturing them tenderly. The lights twinkle overhead as he gets you out of your clothes, holding still so you can do the same before rolling you on top of him, savoring the skin-on-skin contact of your entire body.

As usual, he's warm like a heater, his heartbeat erratically fast as you press your ear to his chest before crawling over him to steal another kiss. His erection presses against your core and you raise your hips, rocking it between the moist folds of your pussy until the thick mushrooom head brushes against your clit, causing you to arch in delight. A wanton moan falls from your lips as you repeat the motion and Sylus hisses in your ear.

"Yes...that's it kitten...take what you need..." His grip on your waist tightens as he helps guide your motions, dipping the tip into your wet core and then gliding thorough your folds to reach the sensitive little pearl. Tension and heat gathers in your body as you let out a nedey little whine, your movements picking up, your empty channel quivering as you tease yourself on his cock.

Unable to hold back the primal desire building inside you, you wriggle slightly, allowing the engorged head to notch into your opening, slowly pushing down on him, mewling as his thickness splits you open. Sylus fingers are curling into the carpet to maintain some semblance of control but his teeth are gritted and his mucles tense as he waits for you to fully sheathe him.

He lets out a deep, throaty, growl as he finally bottoms out inside you, feeling every intimate squeeze and ripple of your hot walls around his cock. Your hips work undulatingly as you ride, delgihted by the way his body feels inside yours. A gasp leaves your lips as Sylus brings his thumb in between your folds, rubbing little circles on the nub as you continue to rise and fall on his cock.

"Cum and make a mess all over me kitten." Sylus's words echo in some chamber of your brain as your body starts to seek more friction, almost acting instinctively on top of him. The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room along with your mingling moans and garbled words of praise.

You cry out uninhibitedly as a jolt of pleasure rocks your core, pussy spasming in delight around him as you hurdle over the edge into your climax. At the same time, Sylus, unable to hold back anymore, starts thrusting upwards into your dripping hole, his hands holding your hips possessively as he chases his orgasm.

His lips pull back into a snarl as he finally reaches his own peak, feeling the coil in his abdomen snapping as his cock twitches, spilling his load into your quivering walls.

[sunsets-and-crows]

Fantastic gimme 15 of them right now! This was perfect 👌

The Holiday Party | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: You are dragged to yet another one of your crappy boyfriend's miserable work functions only for him to abandon you to his awful colleagues, but you run into a man who helps you admit that you deserve better. You think you're having a one-night stand with a handsome stranger, but there's nothing casual about his intentions toward you.

Notes: Sylus x fem reader, Sylus x mc, second person POV. This is not part of the Sylus series, it's just a long-ass oneshot, there is no mention of evol or magical sci-fi powers or wanderers although you are a hunter… of something? does it matter? not when sylus is here to tell you that you have shit taste in boyfriends. This story contains: a crappy boyfriend, banter, hurt/comfort, fluff??→Sylus just being intensely sweet, a breakup, sex with Sylus [sylus penetrating, giving oral] this is not sex education, do not use it as a manual for fucking strangers (no condom, no discussion of STI or birth control), sociopolitical commentary and violence, a happy ending

You really, really don’t want to be here right now.

The twinkling fairy lights are lovely, looping in extravagant curves across the ceiling, spilling down the walls covered in pine wreaths and garlands, filling the luxurious bar with a pine scent that is incongruent to such an upscale, urban setting, here in a rooftop bar of a five star hotel in the heart of the city. In the corner opposite the band stands a huge Christmas tree, crystal ornaments twinkling in the fairy lights.

Glasses clink, a live jazz band, dressed in red and green velvet and wearing jaunty Santa hats, is playing tasteful classic holiday songs on a dais in the corner of the room. Over the music the crowd murmurs, sophisticated men and women engaged in boisterous conversation, toasting to the closing of a lucrative business year, successful client networking, the landing of the biggest cases from the most outrageous scandals of the year.

They’re friendly enough, if you consider snakes wearing bowties and dripping in haute couture friendly. The mask of civility is firmly in place, as polite laughter and faux congratulations are exchanged between colleagues whom you know would slit each other’s throats to make partner first, between partners who funnel profits from the law firm to supporting political campaigns that keep the regulations loose for the white collar criminals who make up the bread and butter of the client register, while tightening the noose around the necks of the blue collar criminals the firm represents on a pro bono basis for the sake of good public relations.

You really, really don’t want to be here right now.

You sip on your champagne. You can taste that it’s expensive, sharp on your tongue—like everyone in the room, but it does nothing for you. You’d rather be at home, in your pajamas, playing a video game on the couch or watching your latest detective series hyperfixation.

Everything is very nice, very fine, if you close your eyes and ignore everyone else in the room. If you ignore the fact that your boyfriend has once again asked you to come to one of his work functions as social currency, a pretty bauble to stand quietly, smiling pleasantly, as these birds of prey discreetly gloat about the carcasses they pick over on a daily basis to pad their bank accounts and their investment portfolios.

“Have you heard? McFayden just bagged the Benzos pharmaceutical case.”

There’s a low chuckle. “So the opposing counsel couldn’t convince the jury with the sob story of the adverse side effects on the poor children with cancer?”

“You’re terrible,” another voice purrs, not sounding upset at all—some spouse of one of the people making jokes about the failure of a class action lawsuit to secure justice for the parents of hundreds of kids who died as a result of the Benzos company intentional tampering with the results of clinical studies.

You wish you didn’t know these things. You wish you could stand here, soaking in the luxury of this beautiful, exclusive bar at the city’s pinnacle, blissfully ignorant of the absolutely gleeful depravity of the lawyers and their biggest clients swirling around you. But you’re not ignorant, or naive. Your boyfriend brings home stories of his colleagues, of the arguments he makes in briefs and before judges every day, as he fights tooth and claw to achieve partner status, along with the rest of the associates in the firm. You know all of these things, so you can’t even bring yourself to grab any of the delicious looking hors d’oeuvre from a passing waiter, holding more champagne flutes and small plates aloft. You have no appetite, in this hungry, churning crowd.

It didn’t used to be like this. When you first met him, your boyfriend was a sweet, starry eyed young idealist, going to law school to change the world. You were a young hunter, fresh out of the Academy, equally full of hope and plans to save the world. You fell in love with his mirrored values, his easy affection for you despite the pressure of both of your schedules. You overlooked the fact that when you would tell him about your job, his eyes would glaze over and he rarely asked follow-up questions. So what, if he was never interested in your hobbies, the things you  liked to do in your precious free time? He was so tired, from school, and then from studying for the bar, and then being ground down at various non-profit organizations, fighting the overwhelming tide of corruption and injustice. He was sweet to you. He would tell you how beautiful you are, he’d make polite, efficient love to you on the days he had the energy for it. You could tuck your own problems, your own wounds and interests into your pocket, carry them with you quietly until one day he’d have the energy and interest to ask you what you’re up to, what you’re reading, how your workday was, and actually listen to the answer. There are so many worse men out there than him, after all. You had dated a lot of them before you met him—cheaters. Toxic, jealous men who you were afraid to make angry, even if you knew you could probably put them down before they actually hit you. Your current boyfriend is kind, at least. For the most part. He only occasionally says small things that chip away at your self worth. About what you’re wearing, or your weight, how much, or how little you eat. Who are you to sometimes wish that someone would look at you and really want to know your thoughts, who would look at you and not just see a beautiful face, but a skilled, competent person? A funny, clever person. Your boyfriend never seems to get your jokes, but he does make an effort to chuckle sensibly when you tell them.

It didn’t used to be this way—you, standing abandoned in this crowd of piranhas. But somewhere along the way, your boyfriend changed. He became jaded, burnt out from his constant struggle against the unfairness of a system stacked against the vulnerable, and went to work for one of the most prestigious law firms in the country, defending insurance companies and insider trading finance moguls, pharmaceutical companies and pop stars who murdered their spouses. No longer is he too tired because he was fighting the good fight. Now he comes home, exhausted from trying to undercut his colleagues in the rat race to secure his future as a permanent partner in the firm with the nice shareholder bonuses. He says it’s for you too. That his future is your future, and that once he’s established at the firm, he’ll devote half of his time to pro bono cases. That he can have his cake and eat it too. That you just need to be patient with him, let him compromise your own values by staying by his side. He has always been (mostly) sweet to you. You feel bad every time you look at him and want more from him. He’s so busy. He says he’s doing this for you, even if you don’t want it.

You wonder when you became so passive in your private life, when you’re so assertive in your professional life. You don’t need anyone at all, after all. You aren’t actually limited to only choosing between your current boyfriend or any of the other dirtbags you’ve been with in your life. You could be alone. You are wondering more and more if maybe you wouldn’t just be happier being alone. But then your boyfriend will manage to remember your favorite drink from the cafe near your place, after forgetting it the last few times he brought something for you too (hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?), and you’d be touched and you’d feel bad for thinking that you’d rather not have anyone at all than him at your side.

Not that he’s at your side right now. He’s across the room, in an intense discussion about the latest client’s case he’s just taken on. Something big, complex. He’ll likely have to make multiple business trips for the discovery process alone. He doesn’t bother to try to help you engage in discussion with his colleagues, or to involve you in his own conversations. He just asks you to hold on a minute, he’ll be right back.

You shake your head at these thoughts, the empty feeling in your chest. You’re used to this. He promised to take you to your favorite bookstore after this function, like you used to do together before he got so busy working overtime that you rarely see him outside of bed these days. It’s unfair of you to feel treated like arm candy, a warm sex doll, a body to warm the ultramodern, stark apartment the two of you now share when he does come home before eleven at night.

You take a big gulp of the champagne, smile at the awful jokes being shared in the little group you’re standing with, and then excuse yourself to get another glass. Maybe if you get drunk, this horrible feeling in your chest will go away.

You glance around discreetly, locate one of the floating waiters, are about to ask for another flute, when you suddenly feel a warm presence behind you. The hair along your bare arms stands on end, static electricity washing over your skin. You turn and find a man standing closer to you than is polite. You take in his wide chest, because it’s at eye level, he’s so tall. Defined pectorals, even under a black dress shirt and vest that look impossibly soft, slick, expensive. Under the strong scent of pine in the room, you smell something delicious. Dark, clean musk. Your mouth starts to water. You lift your eyes, savoring the pale skin exposed under the casually unbuttoned shirt, so incongruent with the clear quality and sophistication of his clothing, as if he has studied how to appear artfully dishevelled. You admire the dip of his clavicle, the strength clearly visible in his broad shoulders, his neck, until you have to hold in a gasp when you reach the beauty of his face.

Sharp jaw, wide, generous mouth. His nose. You want to die, his nose. Long, nostrils flaring as if he too can smell whatever is making your saliva glands flood your mouth, a noticeable bump along the bridge of it. He has the nose of a Roman emperor, a god carved in stone. You have a fleeting impression of soft, silver hair, premature graying in contrast to his youthful face, but when you meet his eyes, everything else fades away.

The warm glow of lava over the rim of an active volcano. Tempting, beautiful, but you know if you try to touch it, you’ll lose yourself, melt—it will be over for you before you even know it. The red of banked, burning coals. They’re familiar to you, in the way that your own reflection in the mirror is familiar on your best days. When you look in the mirror and love yourself, which is often the only time these days that you feel loved at all, despite having a boyfriend.

At the thought of your boyfriend, you sever the connection, looking away from the beautiful stranger who has simply stood there and let you look your fill without saying a word, as if you didn’t just devour him with your hungry gaze, having to swallow the extra saliva the sight of him sent flowing through your mouth.

Your boyfriend isn’t jealous like other men you’ve been with. He never acts possessive in public, doesn’t worry if other men and women look at you, admire you. But he is always worried that if he’s not there, someone will try to poach what’s his. That they’ll hit on you, and you’ll fall under their spell and cheat on him. You sometimes wonder why he would even care, considering how little he touches you these days, but out of respect for him you never act in a way that could cause him to feel insecure, whether he’s around or not. And even if you didn’t respect him, there’s no way you would throw away the peaceful, if unfulfilling stability you have with him right now, not for a man like the one in front of you, who is dripping in sex appeal, who is gorgeous and knows it, who could snap his fingers and have most of the people in this room on their knees for him. Why would he ever look at you? A pretty bauble, yes, but someone who would rather be at home, replaying Stardew Valley for the 47th time. Not someone exciting, exotic. Just a person who doesn’t dress quite right, with humble hobbies and a hard job to do, trying not to be an asshole.

You look away and try to take a step to the side, to allow this man to pass by you. You’ll remember his eyes until the day you die, you think, and he’ll never even know you existed.

But as you take a step, so does he. You find yourself still eyes-to-chest with him.

“Oh, sorry,” you murmur, and try to step to the other side. Sometimes when you’re trying to scurry out of someone’s way, you just make yourself more of a nuisance.

But as you take the step to the side, so does he. You two could almost be dancing, with how close you are, with how in sync he’s matching your movements.

You laugh, a little breathlessly, embarrassed that you’re fucking this up so badly. You’re trying to let him pass, and you keep getting in his way.

“Don’t apologize to me,” he says, and his voice sinks into your chest, filling the void that you realize you’ve been carrying for months now. Maybe even years. You feel it keenly now, as if in the filling, the emptiness is exaggerated. Like after being ill, when the fever and the vomiting have passed, you suddenly realize how healthy you feel, how grateful you are to be feeling well again. With his voice filling the hole inside you, you’re so grateful to remember what it is like to feel whole again.

Impossible, crazy thoughts.

You look up again, get caught in the vice of his gaze again. His uncanny red eyes are soft as they look down into yours. He has a frown line between his dark silver eyebrows, as if he spends a lot of time thinking deeply. He’s not smiling at you, but you get the delusional feeling that he’s happy to be looking at you. But his face is blank, an impassive mask, quietly observing you. Why on earth would he be happy to see you?

“Oh, sorry,” you say again, apologizing for apologizing, unintentionally defying his command.

He snorts softly through his big, beautiful nose. “Not very obedient, are we, kitten?” he asks.

You scowl at him. Okay, so he’s beautiful, but as you suspected, he’s beautiful and he knows it, and he thinks he can get away with speaking to you so disrespectfully without even having properly met, simply because he’s the most attractive man in the room no matter where he goes.

“Not for douchebags, no,” you say smoothly. But you’re actually polite, so you tack on, “Excuse me. If you stay put, I’ll step to the left, and you can continue to where you want to go.” You wait for him to acknowledge your suggestion, to avoid another accidental dance with him.

“No need to lie, sweetheart.” He flicks his gaze across the room, and you have the strange, impossible feeling that he’s looking at your boyfriend. “And I’m probably the least douchey person in this room, besides you.”

You take in his expensive clothes, the soft sweep of his beautiful hair. He’s wearing a tight black vest over his black silk shirt, perfectly tailored to reveal his huge chest, his narrow waist, the proportions of a cartoon superhero, not a real man. His long, thick legs, wrapped in tight black trousers. Monk strap shoes, their attractiveness ruined by stupid fucking chains around the heels. He looks like the wealthy, spoiled adult son of a mob boss. You wonder if he is one of the law firm’s soulless clients.

“Doubtful,” you clip out, because you learned long ago that the more you engage with egotistical pricks, the more likely you’ll end up in trouble with your boyfriend for embarrassing him. That is why you just stand around at events like this, smiling vacantly, trying to get through the evening without causing a scene and either punching someone or drenching their expensive clothing in wine.

“Oh, I like a challenge.” His eyes, already bright, sharp, light up. “Allow me the opportunity to disprove your doubt.” He ignores your clear dismissal, your request for him to pass you by. Your breath catches again. How can one man be so magnetic? Why are you so attracted to such terrible men? You think of your boyfriend, how sweet he used to be capable of being.

“I think you’ll be just fine if one person doesn’t fall for your charms,” you say, suddenly exhausted. You really, really, don’t want to be here. You turn your head, look for your boyfriend. He’s still in deep, serious conversation with colleagues. You wonder why he wanted you to come at all, when he never had any intention of spending any part of this evening with you.

“And what if I don’t care if the entire world falls for my charms, but I won’t survive the one person who resists?” he asks, drawing your attention back to him.

“Typical rich bastard problems,” you snort. “Wanting only what you can’t have.”

“There's nothing typical about me.” He laughs softly, and even his laugh is dripping with money. “And there's nothing I can't have, because I don’t give up when going after what I want. It’s not a matter of if, but when.”

You give in to the urge to roll your eyes so hard you probably look like you’re having a seizure. “I’m not even sorry for being the one who shatters your delusion. Thank you for your interest, if that’s what you’re implying, but the feeling is not mutual.” Maybe you were tempted, or impressed, before he opened his mouth, but with every word since he opened it, he reveals himself to be exactly the same as all the other assholes in this bar.

“Who says I’m implying anything?” he asks, his strange wine-bright eyes shimmering with amusement at your blunt rejection. “I prefer a straightforward approach. I’m interested. Tell me how to make it mutual.”

You can’t help but admire the audacity of this guy—he seems completely unfazed by your clear disgust. You wish you could have half his entitlement on a daily basis.

You fix him with an unimpressed look. “I doubt there’s anything you could do to make it mutual.”

“Again, with your doubt,” he tsks. “How are you so sure that you could never return my interest? You stand there, judging me without even knowing me, just as guilty of dismissing people based on their appearance as all of the shallow, hypocritical animals in this bar.”

You laugh in his face. “Oh yes, I’m just as terrible as these lying, defrauding, malicious fucks. You got me.” You turn to walk away.

“If you recognize these parasites for what they are, then why are you here?” he taunts.

His bait is successful—you turn your head and look at him again, once again struck by his beauty, the intelligence in his eyes, the soft fall of his light hair.

“The main reason you don’t have a chance tonight. I’m here with my boyfriend.”

He steps closer to you, and you have to tilt your head back to look into his entrancing eyes. “If you’re willing to settle for one of these cretins, and you think I’m of the same ilk, then why am I the exception in not being able to catch your interest? I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.”

You stare at him, suddenly struck by the absurdity of this conversation. With just a few words, he has held up a mirror, forcing you to look at what your life has become.  Cold, empty, and hollowly attached to a man who is everything you just accused this man of being. Why are you here? Why do you continue to look the other way as your boyfriend sinks ever more deeply into his new identity of a lying, defrauding, malicious fuck?

And yet part of you can’t help but defend him, despite what he has become. Despite the fact that even from the beginning, he was (mostly) sweet but uninterested in who you really are.

“He used to be sweet,” you say, at a loss as to why you’re telling this stranger this, revealing so much to him in those few words.

“I can be sweet,” he says, lifting his hand, taking a lock of your hair between his long fingers, fiddling with it in a surprisingly endearing way. “For you.”

“I can’t imagine a man like you and ‘sweet’ in the same breath,” you smile, despite yourself.

“Your imagination is terribly limited, then. We’ll work on expanding it,” he says, as if the matter is settled. “What else does he offer you?”

You hesitate. Maybe it’s the champagne. Maybe it’s the gloating, disgusting conversations you have had to endure tonight, again, and you’re just finally reaching the end of your rope. Or maybe it’s this man, teasing, baiting the truth out of you with his intense focus, an incubus tempting you not with his sexuality, although he is carnally appealing to you, but with his apparently sincere interest in your answers. You don’t think your boyfriend has ever looked at, listened to you with such intense focus before. Maybe it’s the fact that this man is someone you’ll never see again. You find yourself answering. “Despite all his flaws, he never cheated—that I know of. He didn’t ever want to hit me.” Your voice trails off, as you draw a blank as what your boyfriend still has to offer you.

His dark silver brows draw together as you go quiet, as he realizes that you have nothing else to say. “That’s all? It’s not even a challenge.” He sounds disgusted.

You look away, suddenly feeling pathetic, as if his disgust is aimed at you. And in a way, it is. What does it say about you, that these meager offerings from your boyfriend have been enough to keep you by his side for so long?

“Look at me,” the stranger says, in his low, deep voice. It’s a command, but soft, like a crowbar wrapped in the velvet that the jazz musicians are wearing.

You obey him this time, your resistance pried open.

You look into his beautiful eyes again. He’s closer now, like he took another step forward while you weren’t looking. You can feel the warmth of his body. If he leaned down, he could kiss you with his soft looking lips without having to step closer.

“Why?” you ask, but you don’t even know what you’re asking. Why does he want to disprove your doubt about him? Why is he asking you questions that tear off the blinders you’ve been intentionally wearing for so long, in an effort to maintain, what? An easy, but unsatisfactory status quo? Why does he want you to look at him? Why is he still talking to you at all, when he’s so terribly handsome, so unreachable for someone like you, who can’t even get your boyfriend to stand this close to you these days, after compromising so much of yourself to keep him happy, to keep from rocking the boat, from hurting his feelings, when he has given so little in return?

“Indulge me. What man wouldn’t want a beautiful, clever, sharp-tongued woman to look at him, and only him?”

You smile, a little helplessly. For some reason, you want to cry, hearing these affirming words from a total stranger. Even though you know they're probably just a line he says to everyone who catches his briefly attention.

Still fingering the lock of your hair, he gently strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, and then lets it drop again before anyone else would notice. “Your smile is so sad,” he breathes, almost to himself. “I don’t like it.”

“What do you want from me?” you ask, a little desperate, resisting everything in you that suddenly, painfully, despite your earlier disgust with him, is whispering for you to lean forward, to chase his hand, to put it back on your face, to rub against him like a cat, to beg for more of his kind words and touch. It’s as if his touch on your cheek unlocked something in you that you didn’t even know was there. Have you been so hungry for affection, that even these sparse crumbs are enough to have you salivating for a man who is likely much worse than your current boyfriend?

He hooks his thumbs into the belt loops of his trousers, bends down so that he’s speaking into your ear, softly, but still over the holiday music, the susurration of the crowd. His breath is warm over your skin. “I want to see a genuine smile from you.” He turns his head, runs his nose down your temple, along your cheek, and breathes deeply. “I want you to look at me, and only me.” He lifts a hand and trails the backs of his fingers along your bare arm. “I want you to come with me, instead of staying here, drinking champagne you don’t like, surrounded by people you despise.” 

You shiver. You suddenly want that too. You want to go with him so badly, despite the fact that you have already decided that if he’s here, he’s probably one of the people you despise. Despite the fact that if he’s here, he probably sprays this abhorrently expensive champagne all over fawning sycophants every weekend at the same clubs your boyfriend now has “meetings with clients” at on a regular basis, not coming home until four in the morning, stinking of alcohol and cigarettes, rubbing his nose strangely, almost compulsively before passing out. Despite the fact that you know the moment you give in, and give him what he wants—whatever it may be—is the beginning of the end of his interest in you.

“Who are you?” you ask, resisting the wild, reckless urge rising in you to simply listen to him, to follow where he leads. You lean back, give yourself space to breathe, to regain your composure.

He lifts one corner of his mouth, a sketch of a smile, and it feels like dark petals whispering along your skin. “Tell me what you would do, if you could do anything at all right now, and I’ll tell you who I am.”

You consider him, trying to figure out what his angle is. Wondering how honest you should be. Wondering how he’ll exploit your honesty if you tell him the truth. Perhaps it’s the champagne on an empty stomach. Perhaps it’s the way the gaping hole in your heart feels filled every time this stranger opens his mouth. You tell him the truth.

“I want to go somewhere warm and quiet, curl up, and watch something silly on television.” 

He takes one of your hands in both of his, cradling it as he looks down at your palm thoughtfully.  “That’s all? You could be a little greedier. Why not go on a midnight cruise on a luxury yacht?” He strokes his thumbs along your palm, so softly. “Why not try to earn your fortune at the casino downstairs, or party in the VIP booth of an exclusive nightclub?” His eyes flick back to yours, as if gauging your reaction, as if to see if anything he’s saying triggers desire in you. “Or we could go shopping with my black card, and you can buy anything you want.”

You sigh. You were right. You’re too boring for this bright, pretty man. You gave him your truth, and he asks why you don’t want all the things you hate, that your boyfriend is clawing his way to achieve over the burnt-out careers of his colleagues, over the broken lives of the victims he ensures continue to suffer with each lawsuit dropped, each client walking free.

You try to take a step back, but he’s still holding your hand like it’s something precious, and he follows you again. You’re suddenly so tired, you don’t even have the energy to lie to him. “Because those things sound terrible to me. I don’t want your black card, when I’d rather just know who you are. I don’t want a super yacht with an exhausted crew, when I’d rather just sit with you in a canoe. I hate casinos—people feverishly wasting money—it feels like a slap in the face to people who are working their asses off just to survive." You shake your head. "I’m tired, and I want to take these stupid fucking shoes off.” There. Maybe with that little tirade, he’ll give up on tormenting you with his mysterious, intense focus and leave you alone. Alone to sort out how to fix your life. Alone to finally gather the energy, the backbone, to leave your shitty boyfriend. To stop drifting from one unworthy man to another. To stop compromising yourself, your self worth, and your values, for companionship, cold comfort, crumbs. You don’t know if you’re ready yet. But looking into the mirror this man has held up is a start.

Instead of dropping your hand, carrying on with whatever business he was on his way to do before you created an obstacle in his path, he squeezes it gently in his, and his thumbs begin to massage the meat of your palm. “Allow me to give you what you want, then.”

You laugh, disbelieving. What is his game? “I answered your question. Now it’s your turn to tell me who you are.”

He keeps rubbing your hand, and for some reason you keep letting him. It feels so good. There’s no one else in the world, now. Just him, your hand in his, that unidentifiable delicious scent in the air, mixed with pine.

“My name is Sylus,” he says, simply.

You stare at his face, but he’s still looking down at your palm. 

“It’s a beautiful name,” you say, honestly. You’ve never thought about the name Sylus. It was just a name before, like so many others. But bizarrely, because it’s his, you suddenly think it matches him. It’s beautiful, just like the rest of him. “But that doesn’t answer my question. It doesn’t tell me who you are.”

“It tells you everything. It was a gift, given by someone precious to me.” He draws you closer, pulling you nearer to the garland-filled wall, turning so his big body is blocking the rest of the room. “I can tell you that I own this hotel. I can tell you that I’m an entrepreneur, and make my living buying and selling all sorts of things.” He lowers his voice even further, meeting your eyes again. “I can tell you that I’m very good at it, and it has made me very rich.” He slowly, gently, backs you up into the pine scented wall, until you have nowhere else to go. “And I can tell you that I despise everyone in this room, because they represent the worst of humanity—for all the reasons you hate them too.” He lets go of your hands, but then runs his own up your bare arms, trailing his fingertips along the sensitive skin of your inner forearms, elbows. “But those things are only parts of me, just like your clever mind, your sad, lovely eyes, your sharp tongue calling me a douchebag, are only parts of you. They’re not the heart of you.” He pauses, ember-glow eyes drifting from your eyes to your mouth, back to your eyes again. “I’m Sylus, and I’d like to give you what you want tonight. Say yes.”

You feel like you’re in a dream. The thoughtfulness of his answer, all of the surprising things he just revealed about himself—hotel owner, very rich man, pale in comparison to the shared feeling of hating everyone in this room. Of his having looked at you for less than ten minutes and being able to tell more about you than you think your boyfriend could tell after years of being together. Your sadness, your biting sense of humor, your intelligence.

You wonder if one night with him is worth immediately trading years of the relationship you share with your boyfriend.

You remember just minutes ago thinking that you’d remember this man’s eyes for the rest of your life, even as he passed you by without even noting your existence.

You force yourself to look away from him. You let your head tilt, so that you can see past his big bicep to look over the crowd. The flashing white veneers of so many mouths talking, drinking, smiling, all belonging to people who don’t deserve the nourishing food in the canapés they’re biting into with their vicious teeth, the quality of the alcohol now sloshing in their stomachs. Your eyes find your boyfriend, and for the first time tonight he’s not trading strategy with his colleagues, oblivious to your existence. He’s staring at you, your body mostly hidden now by Sylus, from across the room with a funny look on his face. 

You feel one of Sylus’s hands slip from your elbow, drifting down. He palms your waist, sliding around your back, low, pinky and ring finger brushing your ass, before coming to rest on your other hip. He draws you gently into him, hips flush with your stomach, his arm an anchor behind your back, his hand an anchor at your hip. You feel small, protected, warm. You stare past Sylus’s arm at your boyfriend, who is now gaping at you.

You straighten again, look back up into Sylus’s lovely face. He’s smiling now, with such warmth. You allow yourself to be honest with yourself—you want him to kiss you. You think that a night with this man will be worth the trade of all the years with your boyfriend, who you suspect is now starting to try to shoulder his way to you, with a look on his face that telegraphs that he has something to say and you’re going to fucking listen, dammit, how dare you embarrass him like this in front of all of his colleagues, the firm’s partners, cucking him like he always knew you eventually would, even though you’ve only ever been faithful to him, respectful of his insecurity, loving in the face of his benevolent neglect of you and all of your needs.

Sylus must see your yearning written all over your face. Your silent acquiescence to his request to give you what you want, just for tonight. He leans down, pauses, his warm breath the only thing separating his lips from yours. He looks into your eyes, a warm glow under his long, sweeping lashes. You nod, just a little, to his unvoiced question. Yes, please kiss me. Yes, you have my permission. Yes, please give me what I want tonight. It will be worth all the cold tomorrows. The silent treatment from your boyfriend as you pack up your things in a few boxes, because you’ve never been one to carry too much baggage—you’ve never really had a home, not really. Your blank memories, then your Gran’s house, not yours. Then student housing, then small, temporary places as you moved around for your job, as you roomed with various colleagues before moving in with your boyfriend. You let him choose the decor of the apartment, because he was so vocal about being forced to accept your own unique taste that wasn't to his. Easier to just give him what he wants. You didn’t mind, since the overpriced apartment, filled with cold furniture and his absence, never felt like home anyway, after he got the job at this awful firm and wanted to upgrade from your cozy, cramped little apartment above your favorite bakery that always smelled like fresh bread.

Sylus searches your face for a moment longer before leaning down the rest of the way. He presses his soft, full lips to yours.

Kissing Sylus feels like coming home. Like how his voice feels in your ears—the constant, aching emptiness in your chest, filled. You don’t know how this stranger can already feel so familiar. You don’t know how just the chaste press of his soft lips to yours is making your body light up like the Christmas tree in this fancy bar, in this fancy hotel, like the fairy lights draped above and around you. You feel desire rise in you, a slow, steady wave of anticipation, the wanting a pleasure in itself, even unmet and unsatisfied. He pulls you closer, his arm an inexorable force at your back, gentle yet firm. He flicks his tongue out, sweeps it across your lower lip, then little licks, asking a question, a big jungle cat lapping at the pool of your mouth, and you open for him. He sinks his tongue in. He’s making soft little noises of pleasure, a low vibration in his chest.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Your boyfriend has reached you, has the audacity to stand just off to Sylus’s side, confront you with such a stupid, obvious question that you want to laugh. You feel the tethers of the years between you snapping, and you feel wild, reckless, a little mean. Because fuck him, and his cheerful neglect of you. Fuck yourself, for having accepted it. Sylus may want to give you what you want for tonight only, but just kissing him, being seen by him, makes you want to give yourself what you should have been giving yourself all along. Freedom, self respect, acceptance that the love you feel when you look at yourself in the mirror is worth more than the crumbs you receive from a boyfriend who you let treat you like a pretty, ultimately worthless trinket. Sylus may only be offering you a dream for tonight, but the feeling that filled you just from his kind, validating words to you is not a dream. You want to give that feeling to yourself, from now on. And dumping your hypocritical, morally bankrupt, shallow boyfriend is how you’re going to start the process.

Sylus slowly pulls away, not taking his eyes off you. He licks you a few more times, presses a few more quick kisses to your lips, like he can’t help himself, just a little sustenance before having to deprive himself for a moment.

“What does it look like?” you ask, turning your head, still pressed against the wall by Sylus’s big body. He’s so warm. His pecs are so pillowy. You want to knead them like the kitten he called you earlier.

Your boyfriend grimaces at you. “Who the fuck is this guy? I knew you were fucking cheating on me,” he bites out, voice rising.

Before you can answer, Sylus rests his cheek on top of your head. “I’m the largest shareholder of your law firm. And your replacement. Your services, such as they are, are no longer required in the boyfriend department.”

There’s a moment where your boyfriend just stares at Sylus blankly, as if his brain is having difficulty processing everything that he just said. And then he gasps. “Sylus Qin?” His eyes go wide.

“Yes. If you want to keep your current professional position, walk away now and forget everything you know about your ex instead of causing a scene.”

Your boyfriend’s jaw is a little slack as his eyes ping pong between your face and Sylus’s. For a split second, he looks like he wants to say something to you, a calculating, mean look in his eyes, that you’ve only ever seen directed at other people before. But then he startles, eyes jerking back to Sylus, and he suddenly looks terrified.

And then he simply turns and walks away, slipping back between the high top tables surrounded by human-shaped sharks, effectively showing you that it was never you, but his job, the wealth and power that he’s chasing, that has always been the main focus of his heart and mind. And that’s fine. You already knew that. It’s just that now, if you had any doubt about your sudden, insane decision to accept Sylus’s insistent request to give you what you want, it is now gone. You’re not willing to remain in a relationship like that, anymore. You’d rather be alone. You turn your attention back to the man currently cocooning you with his big body. He hasn’t moved, as if he’s waiting patiently for you to make the next move.

You ease back as much as you can into the wall, and he lifts his head, looks down into your face.

“Boyfriend replacement, huh?” you ask drily.

He shrugs his big shoulders. “If I’m lucky, with immediate effect. If I’m unlucky, eventually, but inevitably.” One sharp canine, peeking from between his soft lips, gleams under the fairy lights.

You want to laugh. What is even happening? Why go to such lengths to pretend like he’s somehow committed to you, to this insane demand to give you what you want? You just watched your boyfriend walk away without giving you a second glance. You feel entitled to a big, sexy rebound as a treat. You don’t even care what tricks this man is trying to pull to get you into the sack. You’re already convinced. But you are bothered by one thing.

“You’re the largest shareholder in this law firm?”

“Does it bother you?” he answers with a non-answer.

You take in his pretty mouth, his intense eyes. The humor glinting in the curve of his lips.

“I hate what they do. I hate what they stand for. I think I’ve been wanting to leave my boyfriend for a long time, after he started working for your firm. I want to see them go under.” You answer him with a non-answer of your own. Why should he care if it bothers you that he basically owns the firm? He offered to give you what you want for tonight, and then you’ll never see him again. You think that just for one night, it’s your turn to be a little cutthroat, a little malicious, to take what you can get from a shitty world. Maybe that makes you a hypocrite, the same type of person your now ex-boyfriend is. But for tonight, you’re willing to give yourself over to this terrible man. You will wake up tomorrow and self-flagellate to make up for it. You’ll then carry on, trying to do good in the world.

He tilts his head. “If you destroy them, people like them will just fill the crater left behind, if you don’t dismantle the system that allows them to flourish.”

You’re in such danger. With everything this gorgeous, rich man says, he reveals himself to be thoughtful, clever. You don’t want him to be thoughtful and clever. It would be enough if he were simply kind to get what he wants, as he was when describing you, and pretty, so that it feels good to kiss him. You don’t need him to have depth for tonight.

“Why wait to destroy them until the system comes crashing down? Why not actively want the destruction of both?” you ask, only half-joking. You don’t want to talk about this with him. You want him to do as he promised and take you somewhere quiet, warm. But you don’t want to watch television anymore. You want to kiss him instead.

“Then you shall have both,” he says, strangely, before squeezing the hand still holding yours and leading you from the bar. 

You follow, focusing on his broad back narrowing to his strong waist, his incredibly thick ass underneath his fancy trousers. Your mouth is watering again. You want to unbuckle the clasp at the back of his vest. You want to slip your fingers under the waistband of his pants and squeeze.

It should be illegal for one man to be rich, powerful, smart, thoughtful, and drop-dead gorgeous. 

Your hand is warm in his, as he leads you past the bank of elevators that you stepped out of on your way to the bar, instead going down a short hallway that ends in a discrete black door. He leans forward, lets the retina scanner do its thing, and the door clicks open. You find yourself in what looks like a service passage. Bare, dark walls, the same quiet carpet as the rest of the hotel’s hallways. He leads you further in, until you’re at another door, another retina scan. This door opens into the kitchen of what can only be the hotel’s penthouse. Soaring windows offer a view of the city’s nocturnal skyline below. You have an impression of dark, heavy furniture, sophisticated ultramodern technology and design mixed with more baroque, vintage accents. Potted plants offer a little verdant pop of green in the very rich, urban atmosphere of the space. A big, open floor plan with a full kitchen, a sunken den area with a huge screen over a glassed-in fireplace, pretty stained glass chandeliers and lamps. Hallways leading from the den further into the penthouse must go to the bedroom, the bathroom.

“No wonder you were so willing to fulfill my desire. A short trip down the hall, and here we are,” you laugh a little, half teasing, half serious, after Sylus patiently waits for you to finish gawking at the spacious, expensive room.

He gives you that mysterious little half smile. “I told you that you could be greedy.” He leads you to the large marble-topped kitchen island, slides his hands around your waist and lifts. He sets you on the counter and nudges your legs open with a big hand, fits himself between them. He takes your hands in his and just holds them, thumbs stroking over your skin. “If you had asked to go to a three-star Michelin restaurant, I would have cleared the place and taken you.” He leans forward, kisses you lightly on the lips, pulls back. “If you had asked to go deep sea fishing on one of my yachts, I would have asked what type of fish you were interested in catching.” His eyes flick to yours, then back to your mouth. “If you had wanted to go shopping, I would have—”

You lift your hands and his, pressing them to his lips. “Okay, okay. I get the idea, Sylus. Thank you. Although I don’t understand why you’re doing anything for me at all.”

He turns your joined hands and rubs his cheek against the back of one of yours. “Is it really so incomprehensible that a man would see someone stunning across the room and want to get to know her better?”

“You offering me your black card and to close out a Michelin star restaurant seems a little extreme for just wanting to get to know me better,” you retort, not even touching the fact that he just called you stunning. There were plenty of beautiful people in that room. “Is that really all there is? If you thought I was pretty, you could have just offered to buy me a drink like a normal person.”

“I didn’t think you were pretty,” he says, and your heart sinks a little. He just called you stunning, but maybe he was just…going through the script. The script he doesn’t even need with you, since you’re here, in his nice hotel room, with him between your legs already. But he continues. “I thought you were magnificent. And why would I offer to buy you a drink like we’re two normal people, when we're kindred spirits, and you deserve so much more?”

Okay, so that’s intense. Maybe he’s a little psycho—one of those yandere guys that sees a person and decides, based on an accidental look, that she is their ideal, their possession, their obsession. Guys who place a random person on a pedestal before locking them in their basement. You tilt your head. “How would you even know?” you ask. You don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. You’re thankful for his strange kindness tonight, the feeling of being the sole focus of his attention, the reminder that you deserve better out of a partner than what you’ve settled for, for years. But you can’t understand why he would have chosen you, out of everyone there tonight, out of what is surely a multitude of options for him. Now you’re worried, possibly a little too late, that he’s a little nuts.

He sets your joined hands back in your lap and gently withdraws his. “How much champagne have you had?” he asks as he turns to the refrigerator and pulls out two glass bottles of fancy looking water.

He twists the cap off of one and holds it to your lips. “Drink.”

You obey him without thought, watching him watch your drink, his eyes drifting from your eyes to your mouth, to your throat swallowing the chilled, refreshing water.

You lean back when you’ve had your fill. “I only managed one glass of champagne,” you say. “And you?”

“I haven’t had anything to drink at all,” he answers, lifting the half-empty bottle to his own lips and taking a few long pulls, never taking his eyes off of you. You return his gaze, enjoying the strong line of his throat, the bob of his Adam's apple.

After he empties the bottle, he sets it on the counter next to your thigh. “Are you hungry?”

You know that he hasn’t answered your question yet. That he may never answer. Despite all of the possible red flags he’s throwing up, you can’t seem to find it in yourself to care. Perhaps you’re just repeating old patterns, allowing a handsome man to lull you into settling into another toxic relationship. But as of tonight, you’re done with all that. After tonight, you’ll never see this man again, whether he turns out to be a good man or not. “I don’t know.”

And you really don’t know. You think you’re in shock. You just broke up with your boyfriend in public after kissing a man you just met, a man you’re now alone with in the penthouse of the hotel he owns. Are you hungry? What the hell are you going to do after tonight? Who can you stay with? How are you going to arrange to get your things from your now ex boyfriend, your now former apartment?

Sylus, inexplicably—considering your boyfriend never managed this feat after years of being together—must see your anxiety spiral, because he lifts you again, sets you on your feet. He leads you past the den, down one of the hallways, until he opens a door into a bedroom. Again, you just have impressions because you are so focused on the man leading you by the hand. Gigantic bed, dark, cloud-soft puffy blankets and pillows, a little sitting area, the city’s skyline glittering below the wall of windows. A door to the right leads to an ensuite bathroom—marble floors and counters, huge tub, walk-in shower.

Sylus leads you to the bed, urges you to sit on it. You sink into the covers, legs dangling off the end. He kneels before you without a word and begins to remove your uncomfortable, modest, discreetly formal shoes that you wore for this occasion, and only wear when you’re forced to attend your boyfriend’s—your ex-boyfriend work functions like the one tonight. Nothing like what you’d wear for yourself, if you were to go out on the town, nor what you wear when you simply want to be comfortable.

You just stare at the top of Sylus’s head, shoving thoughts of your ex out of your mind. His hair is so fluffy, you can’t resist reaching forward and gently running your fingers through its silver strands.

He neatly sets your shoes aside and then grows still, remaining on his knees at your feet. He leans forward and rests his head in your lap, cheek against your thigh. He encourages you to keep petting him by lifting his hand and nudging yours to keep moving.

You stroke his hair quietly for a while, chalking up your inability to question anything, to think too hard about how you found yourself here, the enjoyment you feel running your hands through his soft hair, to the shock of tonight’s unexpected turn of events, the recklessness and despair that led you to being alone in this stranger’s penthouse bedroom. 

However, after a while, you force yourself to speak. “What are we doing, Sylus?

He lifts his head and meets your gaze, the electric zing of his otherworldly eyes coursing through you. He places one big palm on each of your thighs.

“You said you wanted to go somewhere quiet, and warm, to watch something silly on television. The remote is in one of the nightstands. The screen can be lowered from the ceiling with the remote. I’ll make you something to eat while you find something you want to watch. Deal?”

“You can cook?” you ask, because it strikes you as odd that a man with everything at his fingertips would spend any amount of time in the kitchen.

“I can watch online tutorials,” he says, shrugging. “It’s not hard to follow directions.”

“What if I don’t want you to go?” you ask. You should be afraid of how reluctant you already are to be separated from him, all while not knowing if he’s a little unhinged, all while knowing this is temporary.

His eyes widen a little, as if surprised at your question that reveals how much you don’t want him to leave. “I can order something from the hotel kitchen. Would you prefer that?” He sounds pleased.

You nod, not trusting your voice. You’ve only just met him, and yet his presence is so comforting, despite the strange intensity of his answers to your questions, of his eyes following your every move.

He removes his own shoes, lines them up next to yours.

“Come,” he says, nudging you to climb further up on the bed, to lean against and rest your head on the soft padded headboard. He opens one of the nightstands, hands you the remote control to the television, and then calls the kitchen on his mobile phone, ordering what sounds like an entire banquet’s worth of food in a low voice. 

When he’s done, he joins you in leaning against the headboard. You haven’t turned on the television yet.

“Do you think you ordered enough food?” you ask.

His eyes soften in a not-quite smile as he turns his head and meets your teasing gaze. “Do you think I ordered enough food?” he counters.

“If I were an army, you still would have ordered too much,” you say, smiling now.

He reaches over, runs his fingers up your arm, slides his arm over your shoulders and pulls you close to his side. “With the way you’ve already conquered me, an army isn’t such a far-fetched comparison for you.”

You groan. “Who knew such a good-looking guy would resort to such cheesy lines?”

He laughs softly. “You think I’m good looking?”

You look up at him from your cozy position of being cocooned in him again, your face so close to his that you can see the dark striations in his ruby irises. “You know you’re good looking,” you whisper.

He lifts his other hand to poke you gently in the forehead. “I don’t care if I’m good looking to anyone else. But I like knowing I’m good looking to you.”

You have no idea why he’s trying so hard to make you sound special to him. You’re already here. You already dumped your boyfriend as a result of less than ten minutes of talking to him.

“Then yes, I think you’re good looking.” You stare into his eyes, bathe in his warmth. The scent you were salivating over in the bar is simply Sylus’s scent. Not cologne, or laundry detergent. Just his skin. Something clean and primal. You want to lick him.

He returns your stare. “Why haven’t you turned on the television?”

You swallow, increasingly aware of being in his arms, on this big bed, alone with him, in a warm, quiet place. His scent, the beauty of his face. The way he touches you so gently. The way he knelt at your feet, like a large, powerful beast quietly asking for the affection of your hands in his fur.

“What if I changed my mind?” you ask him, biting your lip.

He lifts his hand, pulls your lip from your teeth with his thumb. Presses against your lip, gently, with its calloused pad.

“You can always change your mind, kitten,” he murmurs. “But what do you want to do instead of watching television?”

“I think you know,” you say, letting your tongue brush against his thumb. 

“Do I? Why don’t you tell me?” He’s teasing you. Daring you to say what you want out loud.

“I want you to kiss me again,” you admit. He looks pleased with your honesty.

“And if I want to do more than kiss you?” he asks, sliding his thumb into your mouth. You suck on it, tasting the salt of his skin.

“Please,” you say. What else is there to say?

“Tell me what you like,” he says, pressing his thumb deeper into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, before withdrawing it so that you can answer him. Your mouth feels empty without him in it.

“What I like?” you ask, buying time. What do you like? Feeling loved. Being praised. Reassurance that you’re fine, just the way you are. But you know that’s not what he’s asking. What you like in bed will likely sound very boring to someone like him, with the world at his feet, money to buy all the pleasures he could dream of.

“Don’t overthink it,” he says. “If you could have me do anything for you right now, without restrictions, what would you want?”

It’s like the question he posed in the bar. If you could be anywhere else, doing anything else, what would you choose?

What does it matter if he knows that you’re boring? If you want someone to say something kind to you. That you want to be touched in a way that your boyfriend hasn’t touched you in a long time, if ever.

You take his big hand, place his palm on your cheek, nuzzle it. “I want you to say nice things to me, but only if they’re true. I want you to take the lead and make me feel good, and I want you to feel good too. I don’t want you to hurt me.” You tell him your most basic desires, as boring as they may be. If he laughs at you, if he pities you for your unsophisticated wants, then you can always get up and walk away. You walked away once tonight. You can do it again, and again. If nothing else, meeting Sylus has given you back the freedom that somewhere along the way you forgot you even had.

He leans toward you, running his nose alongside yours, breathing deeply. He kisses your cheek that isn’t covered by his palm, a soft brush of his lips. He kisses the side of your mouth, right at the corner. He turns your face towards his own, and he kisses you softly on the lips again. Leisurely, again and again. He smells so good. “I knew we were kindred spirits, because I watched you in the bar, listening to those assholes, and you were terrible at hiding your feelings. Your disgust, frustration, boredom. Clear, for anyone who cared to look. The same feelings I was experiencing in that room full of unrepentant, self-righteous bastards,” he says softly against your lips. “When you called me a douchebag, and tried to dismiss me with such arrogant disdain.” He kisses you again, hard, as if excited by the thought. “It was like looking at the truest version of you—principled, an empress dismissing a worm. I could tell that you were wasted on that cretin you dumped tonight. You’ve been wasted on everyone in your life who has failed to recognize your value. I was willing to offer you so much instead of just a simple drink, because I’ve been looking for an empress for my empire and not just another beautiful face.”

You can’t help it. You laugh. “I’m nobody’s empress.” You shake your head a little, bathing in his pretty words. You realize that he’s doing what you asked—saying nice things to you. In this moment, it doesn’t even matter if they’re true or not. The fact that he listened to what you wanted and is trying to give it to you, is enough. Tonight, you can pretend, for a little while, that his nice words are true. “I’m off-putting, too blunt. People don’t know what to do with me. I’d never be able to manage the diplomacy required for running an empire, especially one based on snake-charming like yours.”

“I don’t want you to run my empire. Leave the work and the worry to me. I just want your unvarnished company.” He kisses you again, slides his palm from your cheek to your hair, takes a fistfull of it, gently tugs your head back so your throat is exposed to him. “Be your off-putting, terribly honest self with me, and you will have given me everything I could want.”

You can’t help the little noise that comes out of your throat. He kisses your lips again, licking into your mouth. With your hair firmly in his grip, he tilts your head as he wishes, his tongue big, pressing deeper, slick against your own. He kisses you like this for what could be hours. Your body reacts, you can feel your heartbeat between your legs, the wetness pooling in your underwear.

He does what you asked of him. He takes the lead, slowly undressing you, still kissing you, his long, clever fingers working your top off your shoulders, freeing your breasts from your bra. He tosses them over the edge of the bed. You grow impatient, begin unbuttoning his vest, slide it off his shoulders. Repeat with his dress shirt. Once you are both bare from the waist up, he presses his chest against yours, rolling you underneath him, sinking into the covers on top of you. He palms the back of your neck, and you arch your back, pressing your breasts harder against his chest. The soft silver hair on his chest feels so good against your sensitive nipples.

He grunts, licking out of your mouth, kissing your cheek, your chin. You turn your head, sliding your hands into his hair, dragging your fingertips across his scalp. He shivers. You lick the shell of his ear and he grunts softly again. You drag your teeth along his earlobe, bite down gently on the soft flesh. He whimpers a little. You continue lapping at his ear for a few minutes, until the demands of your body let you know that this is no longer enough. You want more of him. You turn your head again, look back into his now flushed face, watch as he pants through his slightly open mouth.

“And you looked offended when I called you kitten the first time.” His smug smirk is undermined by his obvious excitement. “But here you are, lapping at my ear with your tongue.”

“And yet you’re the one mewling like a kitten as I lap your ear with my tongue,” you counter, reaching up and gently pinching his earlobe, still wet with your saliva.

His smirk takes on a feral edge. “Touché. But now it’s my turn to make you mewl. May I continue?”

You nod, and he wastes no more time, dragging open-mouthed kisses down your neck, between your breasts. He licks, nips, little bright flares of pain, sharp and quick, that you hope will leave marks for you to carry into the next few weeks. He drags the rest of your clothing off, your underwear, with his long, thick fingers, throws them over his shoulder. He hovers on all fours over you, trousers still on, his large dick clearly visible underneath.

“What would you like now? Do you want me to eat your pussy?” he asks, pearl-sheened hair falling over his forehead, messy from your hands in it.

You tense up a little. Your boyfriend hasn’t given you oral since the early days of your relationship. It always felt obligatory, perfunctory foreplay to ensure that you were wet enough for what he was really interested in. The idea of Sylus between your legs like that, his face so far away, not being able to tell if he’s actually enjoying it or just following a script, fills you with anxiety.

You shake your head no.

“No, you don’t want it, or no, you don’t think I want it?” he asks, reaching for the waistband of his trousers, unzipping his fly, all while not taking his eyes off of yours.

“Both,” you say, honestly. “I don’t want you so far away.”

He hums thoughtfully as he efficiently removes his pants, his black boxer briefs, and tosses them aside. He grunts softly as his dick, his heavy balls are freed from his clothing. They’re big, pretty, just like the rest of him. “Okay. We do what you want, sweetheart. If you change your mind, tell me.” He lifts his index and middle finger to his mouth, sucks on them slowly, working them in and out of his mouth while letting his gaze drift from your face, down to your breasts, lower, and then up again. When he removes them from his mouth, they’re soaked with his saliva. “I would love to lick you until you come on my face, but I can be patient till you're ready.” The image of you riding his face at his request sends another jolt of desire through you, layers into the want you already feel for him, throbbing between your legs. But before you can respond, he lowers himself on one elbow, settling a little bit on his side, and lets the wet fingers of his other hand dip between your legs. He slips them easily inside you. He watches your face as he leisurely pumps in and out of you, as his thumb presses down on your clit, as you start to move your body restlessly, because you want more than his fingers. There are only the sounds of your breaths mingled with his, the wet slide of his fingers inside you. You watch, mesmerized by the long, pale line of his strong forearm flexing in the light from the city spilling through the windows, his big hand twisting, thrusting, as he ensures that you’re wet enough, soft enough to take more of him.

“May I continue?” he asks, leaning down, kissing your lips, again just soft presses of his mouth against yours, little flicks of his tongue in between.

“Yes,” you breathe. He lifts his hand from between your legs and then palms his cock with it, slicking it with the combination of your own wetness and his saliva. He leans over you, nudges you between your knees with his wet hand, and you widen them for him. He kneels between your now open legs and lowers his hips until he’s nudging you, pressing in, the slide slick, slow. He watches your face for any signs of discomfort, but even though he’s big, you just feel full. Full in the way his voice fills your chest. Full in the way his sweet nothings fill your heart, despite knowing that they’re just empty, pretty words. He bottoms out, his hips flush against yours, and leans down. He kisses you again, this time opening his mouth wide, fucking into yours with his tongue in the same way that he begins to fuck into your body with his cock. Slow, deep, firm strokes. There is only the sound of his body moving in yours, his panting breath, the soft noises in your throat that you can’t stop with each of his thrusts. The only scents—clean sheets, clean sweat, the musk of his precum and your slick combined.

He feels so good. He watches your face, and when you do truly start to whimper as he promised, he adjusts the angle of his hips, the angle of his dick inside you, and you begin to openly moan, the pleasure filling you. You lift your arms, run your hands down his broad back, his muscles undulating under your fingers, palms, as he rocks both of your bodies.

“I love your hands on me,” he says, not stopping the sinuous roll of his hips. “One of the first things I noticed about you was your beautiful hands, holding the champagne flute.”

“They’re rough from lifting weights. I use them too much when I’m telling a story.”

Sylus leans down, kisses you hard, just shy of punishing.“I don’t want to hear your ex’s bullshit from your mouth while I’m inside you,” he commands. “You deserve more than what you’ve been allowing yourself.” 

You’re shocked at the sincerity, the earnestness in his eyes. His defense of you against the voice in your head, your boyfriend’s occasionally demeaning voice, makes you want to cry.

“Allow me to give you what you deserve,” he orders, but it sounds like a plea in his strained murmur.

You know that he’s only doing as you asked. That he’s saying nice things to you, because you said that’s what you wanted of him tonight. Even though you asked for him to mean them, it’s okay that he doesn’t. You’re just so grateful for the way he’s asking you at every step what you want, asking if he can continue, telling you what you think you’ve needed to hear for a long, long time now—so grateful that you can’t help but play along, to indulge in the fantasy that this powerful, gorgeous man really does think you’re beautiful and deserving of a feast when you’ve been living a life of famine for so long. 

“Okay, Sylus,” you say, and when you say his name, you feel him jerk inside you, and he begins to pump harder, faster. His body pressed against yours, the angle of his hips hitting you just right—you begin to feel close to coming. He seals your fate when he leans down and bites your shoulder, hard, a low pitched whine coming from his throat as he comes, as his hips stutter, as you come yourself, so turned on by the peak of his pleasure derived from your body that his pleasure cascades into and amplifies your own.

Slowly, the movement of his big hips slows and he melts into you, pressing you into the mattress, licking where he bit you. He makes no move to pull out of you—he simply continues to gently roll his hips, the wet sound loud in your ears, the warmth of his cum squelching between your bodies, pooling in the sheets underneath you.

He lifts his head, smiles at you. Nudges his nose against yours. “Was that okay?”

You sigh, body pleasantly heavy yet weightless. He feels so good blanketing you, still filling you. “It was passable,” you tease, smiling at him lazily.

He laughs low, smug, clearly not believing your obvious lie. “Room for improvement? Challenge accepted,” he murmurs, kissing you again, and you can feel his smile against your mouth.

He thrusts into you again, once, hard. You gasp. “Already ready to go again?” you ask in wonder.

“I should be thanking your ex for the low bar, but I’m pissed that you sound so surprised. What kind of absolute wretch wouldn’t want to worship you over and over again, all night, every night?” he demands.

You laugh. “No need to exaggerate.” You wrap your arms around his neck, run your hands up into his hair. “You’ve already done more than enough to make me feel good for a long time after tonight.”

“Oh, I’m not even close to being done,” he says, pumping into you again. “The question is, do you want me to fuck you like this again, or do you want to ride me?” he looks thoughtful for a moment, and then asks eagerly, “Are you ready to sit on my face yet?”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. “You’d let me sit on your face while I’m still dripping with your cum?” You think of your own boyfriend, how he always seemed slightly disgusted by the wetness from your body on his face anytime he did bother to give you oral.

“Stop thinking about him,” he orders. “Think about me. Unlike weaker men, I don't have a problem with eating you out when you’re filled with the combination of me and you. What could be more delicious?”

You find your body rousing again at the obvious sincerity of his words, his irritation that this is even a question. 

“I’ll lick you clean till you’re screaming, and then make a mess in you again,” he promises, rolling both of your bodies so that he’s on his back, pulling out of you, already lifting you by the hips, encouraging you to drip your way up his chest, settle over his mouth. He looks up at you, a smile crinkling the corners of his gorgeous, bright eyes.

You learn that night that if nothing else, Sylus Qin is a man of his word. He worships you, over and over again. While you're regaining your breath after one round, he brings food from the banquet he ordered and feeds you with his hands. He then fucks you again, and again, until you’re both too tired to move. After, he gently wipes the combination of you and him from your body, he brings a bottle of water to your lips and tells you to drink, he buries his head in your neck and you fall asleep, held tightly in his arms.

In the morning, you wake slowly, feeling pleasantly exhausted, your muscles tired and aching from last night’s efforts. Where Sylus bit you and sucked bruises into your skin, pain throbs dully, but you enjoy the reminder that you’ll have something of his on you for the next few days, maybe weeks. You turn your head, take in his lovely face, relaxed in sleep, the dark sweep of his eyelashes across his pale cheeks. He looks younger while asleep, without the frown line revealing his maturity as it does while he’s awake.

He made you feel so loved last night. He reminded you of the possibility of what love can be. That you don’t have to settle for anything less than how he treated you for one special moment in time. You’d rather be alone, than be with someone who doesn’t make you feel how Sylus Qin made you feel for one night. You’re so grateful to this beautiful man for reminding you that you don’t have to settle. For being the impetus in making the decision to never settle again.

You lean down and press a kiss, soft as a feather, to his temple. He doesn’t stir.

You don’t want to be here when he wakes up. You don’t want to watch as the illusion fades, now that he’s conquered the challenge your initial resistance to his charms presented. You don’t want the polite distance, the subtle urging to get you out of his bed and out of his life again. You’d rather carry his strange, unexpected kindness with you as an unspoiled memory, a ruler with which to measure all future potential lovers.

You quietly slip out of bed, collect your clothing and shoes from last night. You dress in the hallway, slip into your shoes. You walk to the private elevator that opens directly into a little foyer off the kitchen that you hadn’t noticed last night. You feel at peace on the long ride down to the ground floor, as you step into the cold, white winter morning.

You are certain now. You’ll never forget Sylus’s eyes, until the day you die.

Sylus wakes up all at once, jerked awake by a feeling of wrongness. He pats the bed next to him, finds only cold sheets, where he should be feeling your warm, soft skin. He cracks an eye open and scowls when he confirms what his hands have already informed him.

You’re gone. You didn’t believe him, when he said he wanted to give you everything, not just last night, but for all the rest of your nights. He huffs a little. Of course you didn’t. The finest things in life are never easy to obtain, let alone keep. Your fuck-up of an ex didn’t understand that until it was too late.

Sylus would rather have woken up to your warm body, to have pressed himself back into your wet, soft spaces, made love to you over and over again until you passed out again.

But this is okay too. He has finally found you. In one night, he got rid of your poor excuse for a boyfriend, tasted the pleasure of your mind and your body, and placed a tracking app in your phone. 

You may think that last night was all there is. You couldn’t be more mistaken. Sylus always did enjoy a good hunt.

Over the weeks that follow, you hear news that your ex-boyfriend’s law firm has come under intense fire for financial mismanagement of client funds. That some of the partners will be going to trial for tax fraud and other white collar crimes. Some have been disbarred and forbidden from practicing law for the foreseeable future. In the end, the firm can’t survive the reputational and financial blows, and it goes under.

You don’t even have to go to your ex’s place to pick up your belongings. Before you muster the energy to call him, to arrange for a time for you to come get them, they are inexplicably delivered to your temporary place by two intensely handsome delivery men, obviously twins, although one has an intensely scarred face. They wear matching crow tattoos that peek out from under their tight black t-shirts, winding around their big biceps and the back of their necks. When you ask if it was your ex who hired them, they laugh, make cryptic comments about your ex not having the financial resources to do much at all these days, and then leave, their chatter regarding a bet about how long it will take their boss to confess to his crush echoing down the hallway of your friend’s apartment building.

More weeks pass and you hear rumors of a new resistance movement called Onychinus by its proponents and critics alike. They sabotage banking networks, hack credit card companies, expose predatory insurance practices. They publish the banking information of prominent politicians, following the money to highlight the corruption from lobbying efforts by the worst industries in the country, in the world. 

Onychinus’s disruption of the system intensifies, until one day, the first insurance CEO is shot in broad daylight. And then it’s like the killer, or killers, go down the list, and executives of all sorts of multinational companies are ending up dead.

All the while, despite your firm belief that you’d never see him again, you start bumping into Sylus Qin at the strangest, most random places. The grocery store. Going for a jog in the park. Out at the club, dancing with friends. It’s almost as if he knows where you’ll be, and then arranges to bump into you.

The world is changing around you. A quiet revolution occurs, where ordinary people demand better of their leaders, of the businesses they support. You think about what you asked him the night you met him, Why wait to destroy them until the system comes crashing down? —and his strange response: Then you shall have both.

The next time you ‘happen’ to run into him, you’re alone, going for a night walk along the bank of the river winding through your city. The city lights glitter in the water, thousands of stars blinking in the velvet dark.

He’s wearing a thick winter coat, but his neck is bare. You want to thread your own scarf around his throat, protect him against the biting, late winter wind.

“Funny seeing you here,” you say, smiling up at him.

“Very funny,” he agrees serenely. “Have you figured it out yet?” he asks, wine-dark eyes fixed on your face.

You furrow your brow, pretend to think. “You weren’t lucky, were you?” you ask.

He smiles. “No. My kitten wasn’t there when I woke up. I knew then that it would take more than just my words to convince her that I fully intended to replace her boyfriend after she finally had the good sense to dump him.”

You still don’t understand why this man first approached you. Why he treated you with such sincere, loving passion during the only night you spent with him. But you remember your words to him, and his answer implying that he would give you what you wanted. You’ve watched the world change faster than you could have imagined on the night you found yourself abandoned, once again, in the shark tank of your ex’s colleagues and employers.

“It’s you,” you say, stepping forward, taking the lapels of his coat in your hands.

“What’s me, kitten?” he asks, sly, unbuttoning his coat, opening it for you.

“The demise of my ex’s law firm. Onychinus. The new legislation, the quiet revolution.” You accept his invitation, let him pull you into his chest, let him wrap his coat around you.

“No, beloved, it’s you,” he says on a contented sigh. “I told you, I don’t need you to help run my empire. You are simply the reason for its existence.”

“Why?” you ask, resting your head against his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat.

“Would you believe me if I said that I met you in another life, and you gave me my name, taught me how to love, and how to be loved in return?”

You shake your head. “Of course not. This is the real world. This life is the only one we’ve got. That’s why it’s so important that we do it right, and don’t be assholes, and try not to leave the world worse than we found it.”

“An idealist,” he says in mock disgust. “I guess you’ll want to teach me about how to be a better person,” he says glumly. “But I’m not selling my yachts. I’ll buy you as many canoes as you want, though.”

You snort, remembering the night you met him, his offers to take you on a midnight yacht cruise, the use of his black card.

“What’s the real reason, Sylus?” you ask, hugging him tightly, savoring the warmth of his big body against the cold breeze off the water.

He rests his cheek on the top of your head. “Kitten wants a bedtime story?”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” you whisper.

“It’ll cost you. Sure you want to hear it?”

You nod, and Sylus begins to speak.

“It all began the night I was checking in with the hotel’s security team, and saw the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in an elevator on one of the security feeds. She was telling a story, gesturing with her hands, her face so lively, eyes so bright. I had to listen in. I had to hear what she was saying. She was funny, sharp-tongued. Her voice was beautiful. Compelling. She was clearly intelligent, and deeply angry at the world.” As Sylus speaks, snow begins to fall, big fat flakes swirling in the night. “I knew, immediately, that we were kindred spirits.” His arms tighten around you, almost taking your breath away. “And then I heard the tepid response of her date. His subtly demeaning remarks. As if he needed to put her down to make himself feel better, and to keep her from realizing how much better she could do than him.” He shrugs. “I knew that he didn’t deserve her, and that I had to have her. That I needed to pull out all the stops in order to make her mine. But just my luck, she didn’t believe me when I told her that.”  

You turn your head, rest your chin on his chest as you look up into his red, red eyes. “So quick? Just that, and it was enough for you to decide you wanted to keep me?” It’s so hard to believe. How could he tell so much about you, from just a short, accidental encounter?

“I have an appraiser’s eye, darling. I can recognize the priceless, the one-of-a-kind, when I see it.” His self-satisfaction is palpable. Who are you to argue with him? If he thinks you’re worth it, then you will choose to believe him. He reminded you that you deserve it, the night you met, after all. 

“Do you still want the job? Boyfriend replacement?”

“No,” he says, but before your heart can sink, he continues. “The cost of this bedtime story is high, I’m afraid. I’m too greedy to settle for boyfriend. I like the sound of husband. Soulmate.”

He leans down, stops a breath away from your lips. Relief floods through you. You smile at him, echo his words. “Then you shall have both.” 

Then you kiss him. 

You kiss him, and you spend the rest of your life kissing him. You never do forget his eyes, through all the long years, as the world continues to change around you, as Sylus spends every day trying to give you what he insists that you deserve, and you try to do the same for him, until the day you die.

End note: I'm a lying liar and said I was taking a break, but apparently Sylus won't leave me alone.

[kathy-ifnt]

Art vs Artist 2024

Coming with a Christmas offer for my Patreon :3

Sub on my "immortal" tier and get 50% off from 16/12 till 12/01 using the code "9A24E"!!!

Thank u for ur support so far and cya in the next post! :3 <3

PATREON | TWITTER | BLUESKY

[ajellybee]

Sneak peek!! ♡

Passing the reigns 

Sylus x fem!reader. Reader is MC

CW! NSFW MDNI ♡ dirty filthy ♡  bottom sylus? ♡ dom reader ♡  use of kitten. (I have a love-hate relationship with it…but it’s sylus so it’s okay…) ♡ cuffing ♡  nipple play ♡  female masturbation ♡  cum eating ♡ oral ♡ choking ♡  cream pie ♡ NOT PROOF READ, like i read it but if i miss a mistake OOPS oh well !!!

🪼🐝notes: I haven’t finished writing it yet but thats whats in it so far, there will probably be more… youll know when i finish!! Im over 2k words rn just a littlllee more and i think ill be satisfied.

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“Yes!!! I win! Read 'em and weep!” you throw down your assist cards allowing you to drop two number cards, claiming the last two cups and getting ten more points than the man in front of you. You NEVER win when you play kitty cards so this victory will go down in the history books. Sylus just rolls his eyes at your victory dance, partially annoyed the other half finding the way you bask in your victory adorable. 

“How does it feel to lose, ya big loser?” you sit back in your seat arms crossed with the smuggest look on your face.

“It's a rare occasion, it won't happen again” he shrugs, reaches over, and flicks your forehead, enjoying the pout he gets in return. Now it's your turn to roll your eyes. 

“Sounds like the talk of a sore loser. Now a deals a deal.” you huff triumphantly. Before you started this round after back-to-back losses, to raise your spirits, HE suggested that if you won this one you could make a request of any kind and he would fulfill it. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on what you requested from him…) it worked a little too well, and you played harder than you ever have, earning your victory, and now it's time for your reward. 

“Oh, I haven't forgotten, Sweetie. If anything I've been dreading what's swirling around in that head of yours.” all you do is smile and jab a finger into his chest, reminding him that he “promised”.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

The two of you are back in the N109 zone at his place, freshly showered and in pajamas. 

“Remember Sy…you promised. Say it again” you say extremely skeptical that he will play along in your little game. He only ever lets you go so far when you take the lead. Always the little cheater. 

“Yes, yes. You have my word, Kitten” he meant it this time. He’ll let you use him, and besides, Sylus would be wrong if he wasn't intrigued by what you have in mind based on how confident you are at the moment. You look into his eyes skeptically one more time before deciding he’s genuine. And now it's time for you to have fun. Sylus sees the change in your demeanor. “Oh, the cat’s ready to play no-” he gets cut off with the way you tug on his collar, bringing him down to be eye level with you. You stare deep into his crimson eyes, already lidded with lust. You feel it as well, the idea of having him underneath you completely at your disposal. You want payback for all the nights of teasing and edging you've been victim to, now it's his turn. “Well, what are ya-” For the second time he's been cut off by you, but this time by your mouth on his. The kiss very quickly turns into a clash of tongue and teeth. You feel sylus already fighting for dominance with the way his tongue forces its way into your mouth, licking at your teeth and inner cheek. Sylus’s hands come up to bring you closer, but that's not part of your plan, no. Pulling away you glare up at him and he lets go understanding he already broke the promise. You walk over to the bed and point at it, signaling him to lie down. Once he does you crawl to sit beside him, carefully cuffing his wrists to the iron bars of his bedframe, he could get out easily if he wanted to, but he enjoyed the look you had. And he promised, it's definitely not because he's internally shaking with anticipation. Its definitely not because he craved for you to take the lead and control him, of course not…

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well chat! what do you think?? KEKEKE idk i like it. I've been thinking about this for sooooooo long. I dont know when ill finish it. I did finish my first semester, but i still do still have work so it'll be out in the near future YIPPIEEEEE

[himbodruid]

Kinda wanna write an aftermath of my Dragon In Rut fic, where dragon!sylus is a gentle lover to make up for being rough with mc

Maybe post-dream of them rolling around in the field and mc seeks him out, while he’s been hiding in embarrassment/shame?

HMMMMM

[h4venpha]

⸺ pretty girl (18+)

✦ sylus x reader smut contents: cock warming, mirror sex-ish, size kink-ish wc: 514 notes: smth just short, sweet, and dirty

“come on, sweetie, look up.”

you blearly blink before his fingers slide up your neck, firmly grasping your jaw to redirect your gaze into the mirror perched in front of the bed. his knees are holding yours open and giving you both the perfect view of your pussy lips clinging to his girth. your cunt pulses around his dick, stretching you completely as you tremble in his lap. you feel the rumble of sylus’s chuckle against your bare back as he looks at you through the reflection.

“i feel you clenching around me. do you like this or not? make up your mind, kitten.” sylus hums, his tone patronizing knowing that you do, infact like it.. you’re so easy to read with the way you tremble and bite your lip, heat crawling up to your face. he hisses softly, feeling your cunt practically milking him.

“i- i don’t know…” you whine quietly, shyly looking at yourself in the mirror. you look worn out. flushed red and so blissfully fucked out just from him cockwarming you.

“you don’t know?” sylus repeats and you can hear the teasing smile in his smooth voice. he knows how shy you can get, how easily embarrassed you get when he praises you for being so pretty and perfect. his pretty girl. 

his other hand moves down from your hip to gently press against your soaked heat. his finger pads slip past your clit, just to feel your throbbing before moving down to slide against your stretched pussy lips. “look at yourself,” he hums, ruby eyes flicking up to see if you’re watching, and you are, eyes locked to the mirror. “keeping me nice and warm inside, hm?” sylus whispers hotly into your ear before easing his index finger right next to his length.

“oh so she can keep stretching?” he says as if speaking to your cunt directly.  sylus presses his finger in deeper, feeling the hotness of your flesh pressed so tightly around his cock. 

you can’t do it, it’s too much. “mm- ngh...” you let out a shaky exhale and advert your eyes away from the view in front of you. he always makes you do things like these, you know how much he loves seeing you get all red and bashful in front of him. “no- no more, sy… please.” you plead quietly, squirming just as a second finger presses agaisnt your entrance.

sylus clicks his tongue condescendingly, cooing softly into your ear. “you poor thing, it’s too much for you?” 

you nod immediately, your breathing evening out as you feel his fingers slip out. one thing about sylus, if you ever said it was too much or he needed to stop, he would without hesitation. his grasp loosens around your jaw, slipping to gently press his fingers into your cheek to make you look at him. sylus smiles to himself as he admires your pink cheeks and closed eyes. such a pretty little thing.

“alright then, sweetie, i won’t tease you anymore.” he shifts you back away from the mirror, letting his lips linger on your temple for a moment. 

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Oh my god...it's like a size and monster kink put together. Ofc he'll knot you but I also feel like since dragons are lizards, both those cocks are hidden underneath a LOT of scales...reader will have her work cut out for her.

Plus whenever I imagine dragon sex, I keep thinking about that description from The Shape Of Water.

you begged sylus to have sex in his dragon form. not realizing he had two dicks…

HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT

[baobei-bu]

man with horns >>>>>>