When you spot Sylus leaning against his motorcycle, sunglasses on, waiting for you by the entrance of the building, you suddenly become very aware of yourself. Not your appearance, god knows Sylus has seen you in worse states.
No, it’s the fact that your male coworker leans in just a little too close, murmuring a joke that you laugh at without thinking.
You say your goodbye quickly, heading over to Sylus with confusion on your face.
“What are you doing here?” You lean a little close to him, making sure the variety of people ogling your Greek god of a boyfriend get the hint.
“You wanted to try that restaurant down the street, yes?” Sylus smirks when he sees what you’re doing, hands finding your waist and fiddling with the buckles of your uniform.
“I am starving…”
“I assume all that laughing stirs quite the appetite.” He’s teasing you, because of course. You shove him a little, only slightly pouting.
“We’re just friends. I promise.”
“You don’t need to explain yourself, kitten. I understand.” He’s smirking, but you can tell he’s being genuine.
“You’re…not jealous?” He huffs a laugh at your question, leaning down to brush his lips against yours.
“Why should I be? I’ve known my treasure is desirable for quite some time. But as long as she chooses me, I have no reason to worry.”
The first time you leaned in and kissed him, he felt like the entire world could burn down around him and he wouldn’t care. Since then, making out with you has become his favorite addiction. The way you melt into him, the little sounds you make when he licks into your mouth, how you grip his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll disappear,he can’t get enough.
Tonight is no different.
You’re straddling his lap on the couch in his private lounge, hands tangled in his silver hair while he kisses you deep and slow. His hands slide up your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh as he pulls you closer. A low groan rumbles in his chest when you rock against him, unconsciously grinding down on the growing bulge in his pants.
“Fuck, kitten…” he murmurs against your lips, voice already rough. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
You whimper softly, kissing him harder, and for a moment it feels like you might finally be ready. His hands slip under your shirt, palms warm against your bare waist, thumbs stroking just beneath your ribs. He’s so hard it’s aching, straining painfully against his zipper, but he doesn’t rush you. He just keeps kissing you like he could do this forever.
Then you pull back suddenly, breathing heavily, eyes a little wide.
“Sylus… wait. I’m sorry, I-” You bite your lip, looking guilty.
He stills immediately.
His hands slide out from under your shirt and settle respectfully on your hips instead. Even though his cock is throbbing angrily between you, begging for friction, his expression softens.
“Hey,” he says gently, voice low and calm. “Don’t apologise. You never have to be sorry for that.”
You look down, cheeks flushed. “But you’re… I can feel how hard you are. I keep getting you worked up and then stopping-“
Sylus cuts you off by tilting your chin up so you meet his eyes. That usual smugness is gone, replaced by something warmer and tender.
“I don’t care if I stay hard for the rest of the night,” he says simply. “Or all week. Or all month. We go at your pace. Always.”
He leans in and presses a slow, sweet kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, much softer this time.
“You letting me kiss you like this already feels like winning the lottery, sweetie,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I can wait. As long as you need.”
Even as he says it, his cock twitches hard between your thighs, still painfully trapped and aching. He ignores it completely, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest instead.
You bury your face in his neck, relaxing into him. “You’re too good to me.”
Sylus lets out a quiet chuckle, though it sounds a little strained.
“Trust me, I’m not a saint. Right now I’m thinking about a lot of very filthy things I want to do to you,” he admits, voice dropping into a purr. “But I’d rather have you comfortable and happy than rush anything. This-” He squeezes your waist gently. “-is more than enough.”
You stay like that for a long time, you curled up on his lap, his arms securely around you while he presses occasional kisses to your hair and temple.
Later, after you’ve fallen asleep against his chest, Sylus finally lets out a slow, controlled breath.
He’s painfully hard, balls aching, cock leaking into his boxers… but he just holds you tighter, a small, satisfied smile on his lips.
Because even if it means blue balling himself every single time you make out, you’re worth every second of it.
His kitten is safe, comfortable, and slowly opening up to him
“Sometimes we need someone to simply be there, not to fix anything or do anything in particular. But just to let us feel we are supported and cared about.”
There is something so bittersweet about returning to older fandoms for me now. It's like returning home, but the home needs a good sweeping and no one has tended to the garden in a long time.
It's still warm and cozy, despite the subtle draft that now whistles through. Everything is still in place, just with a soft blanket of dust. The pictures of everyone are still hung up, though they no longer provide an accurate reference of the people in them.
It's okay, but it's different from when you first experienced or enjoyed that piece of media. Sort of a graveyard of hyperfixations, but you know it will be alright because a few people still occasionally stop by and leave flowers.
The most surprising thing about Sylus is not his obscene wealth, not his secret soft spot for stray cats, not even the fact that he likes to walk his mechanical bird in the middle of the night.
No, it's his sex drive. Or rather, lack thereof.
At first, you chalked it up to him being respectful. Surely he just didn't want to seem too eager and overwhelm you. After all, he looks like that. He's practically walking sex on a stick. You're sure he knows it, just like you're sure he wants more.
But as months of you being the only initiator drags on, worry starts to find its' way in your mind. Did he not want to have sex with you at all? Was he only going along with it because you wanted to?
Maybe you just weren't good enough for him.
"Are you okay?" Sylus nudges you with his shoulder, the movie paused. You pull yourself from your racing mind, pressing your lips together. A part of you wants to lie and pretend nothing's the matter, but you're tired of feeling like this.
"I've just been wondering...you never seem to initiate sex. Am I not..." He cuts you off quickly.
"It's nothing to do with you. I suppose...sex is only one form of physical intimacy. I feel the same type of pleasure from your mere presence as I do when we have sex." He says it almost casually, while you stare at him in shock.
"So like...right now. You're as happy as you would be if I was naked on top of you?"
"Yes." He answers easily, while your jaw drops.
"Are you sure you're a human male?" Your question makes him smirk, leaning in until his nose nearly brushes yours.
"Is this another one of your pranks?" Sylus glances around for a camera, smirking when he notices your unamused face.
"I'm serious, Sy! If you want one, you should get one drawn up. I'd be happy to sign it so don't worry about that." You can see the moment he realizes this really isn't a prank, given the way the smirk slowly vanishes from his face.
"A prenup implies we'll be getting divorced in the future. Is that something you have planned?" His tone lacks it's usual mirth.
"Of course not. I just figured...you earned all this money. It's not fair for me to just take it if we were to get divorced." Your words make Sylus frown, and a flicker of irritation burns in his eyes.
"We won't be getting divorced." He says through gritted teeth, making you sigh.
"Sylus, I'm not naive. There's always a possibility that something could happen. Love is like that! Maybe one day you wake up and-and you don't love me anymore. You should be allowed to leave without having to wo-"
"No."
"...What do you mean no?" You echo, watching as he suddenly strides over to you, nearly crushing you in a hug. You pat his back gently, suddenly feeling like the tone in the room has changed. He squeezes you tighter, as if worried you'll fade away in his arms.
"There will never come a day where I don't love you. Never. You have half of my soul and all of my heart. Everything I have, everything I built, all of it...is for you." He murmurs the words into your ear, finally meeting your eyes when he's finished. You manage to nod, knowing if you speak too soon you'll likely burst into tears.
"Okay," You concede after a moment of silence, "No prenup."
Sylus hums at your words, pleased, giving you one more squeeze before releasing you from the hug.
Summary: It's date night, and Sylus reserves an entire restaurant just to share a quiet, candlelit dinner with you.
You did not expect anything tonight.
No anniversary. No celebration. No milestone. Just an ordinary evening that was meant to be for the two of you.
Sylus texts you a single message.
Wear something you love. I will pick you up at eight.
That is all.
When you step outside, he is already there, leaning against the car like he always does.
His eyes soften when he sees you, a subtle change most people would miss.
“You look beautiful,” he says.
“You did not tell me where we are going.”
“You did not need to know.”
You roll your eyes, but you take his hand anyway.
The drive is quiet, you keep staring at the passing buildings.
You are excited to see where he is taking you, knowing Slyus, it is not something ordinary that he planned.
When the car stops, you recognise the restaurant immediately. It is one you once mentioned wanting to try. Just once. In passing. Yet he remembered.
The entrance is lit, but there are no crowds. No waiting guests. The door opens the moment you approach.
Inside, the entire space glows with candlelight.
Every table is empty.
Except one.
Set perfectly near the window, draped in linen, a small arrangement of flowers resting between two glasses already poured.
You stop walking.
“Sylus,” you breathe.
He watches your reaction carefully, something proud and pleased settling into his expression.
“I wanted it quiet. No interruptions.”
“You reserved the whole place?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
He steps closer, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.
“For dinner.”
That is all he says. Like that explains everything.
And it actually does.
The staff move discreetly, almost invisible. Your favourite dish is brought out first. It is prepared exactly how you like it. The wine you once complimented. The bread you always steal from his plate.
You stare at him as you sit.
“You planned all this.”
“I did.”
“There is no occasion.”
He tilts his head slightly, studying you across the candlelight.
“There does not need to be.”
He listens when you speak, laughs quietly at your jokes, reaches across the table to brush his thumb along your wrist when you are mid sentence, just because he can.
“You remember everything I like,” you say softly.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looks at you like the question does not make sense.
“Because it is you.”
The candles burn lower. Dessert arrives.
Your favourite.
You laugh softly, shaking your head.
“You are impossible.”
He leans back in his chair, watching you with open satisfaction as you take the first bite.
“I like seeing you happy,” he says.
There is no arrogance in it. Only truth.
You set your fork down slowly.
“All this just to see me smile?”
“Yes.”
The room feels smaller then. Warmer. Intimate in a way no crowded place could ever be.
When the plates are cleared, he stands and offers you his hand.
“One more thing,” he says.
There is no music, but he pulls you gently into him anyway. One hand at your waist, the other lacing with yours. You sway slowly between the candlelight and the quiet hum of the city outside.
“No reason?” you whisper.
He rests his forehead against yours.
“You are the reason.”
The world beyond those walls does not exist in that moment. No work. No expectations. Just warmth and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your palm.
When he finally pulls back, his thumb brushes your cheek.
“We can do this again,” he says softly.
“On a normal Tuesday?”
“Especially on a normal Tuesday.”
And you realise that with Sylus, love is not reserved for special days.
Sylus isn’t the guy who waits for your birthday to drop something huge on you.
He’ll just… do it. Random Tuesday in March, you wake up to him already dressed, leaning in the bedroom doorway with that lazy half-smirk, tossing a set of keys onto the bed like it’s nothing.
“Get up. Yours now.”
You stare at the key; matte black, sleek logo you recognize instantly. Your brain short-circuits for a solid five seconds.
“…Sylus, what the fuck is this?”
He shrugs. “Your new car, sweetie. Parked downstairs. Figured the matte red would look good with your new gear.”
You’re still blinking at the keys. “You bought me a sports car. On a random day. Because…?”
“Because I saw it and thought you’d look hot driving it.” He says it like that’s the only explanation required. No card, no ribbon, no celebratory card. Just him, already walking toward the kitchen like he didn’t just change your entire driveway situation.
Birthdays and holidays are different with him.
Those are quieter. More private.
On your actual birthday he doesn’t do grand gestures or flashy jewelry. He waits until the apartment is dark, everyone else long gone, and then he sits you down on the couch with nothing but a small velvet box in his palm.
Inside is something small and personal. A tiny silver heart shaped locket with a picture of the two of you in it. It’s the kind where you aren’t posing, not deliberately trying to look good for the camera. It’s a small intimate moment shared between the two of you and even in the picture, his full attention is on you. He’s had it cleaned, strung on a thin chain he picked himself.
No speech. Just him fastening it around your neck with careful fingers, lips brushing the nape before he pulls back to look at you.
“Been carrying that around for a while,” he mutters. “Figured it was time you had it.”
You’re crying before you even realize it. He doesn’t make a big deal, just pulls you into his lap, lets you hide your face in his neck while he strokes your hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Valentine’s, Christmas, anniversaries, he keeps it the same. Thoughtful, quiet, stupidly intimate things that mean something only to the two of you: a leather-bound sketchbook filled with his own rough drawings of places you’ve been together, a single pressed flower from the field where you first kissed, a custom knife engraved with the date he decided you were never getting away from him.
No billboards. No parades. No “world’s best girlfriend” mugs.
Just him, quietly proving every day that you’re the only thing he’s ever really wanted to keep.
And then on some random Thursday in July he’ll walk in, drop a set of matte-black keys on the counter while you’re eating cereal, and go “bought you a bike. It’s downstairs. Don’t scratch it.”
You stare at him over the bowl.
He just kisses the top of your head and steals a spoonful of your cereal like he didn’t just casually drop five figures on a whim.
That’s Sylus.
Big gifts whenever the hell he feels like it.
The ones that actually hurt to give, those are saved for the days that matter.
“Nobody.” Sylus is grinning at you, crimson eyes narrowing as he studies your ever expressive face.
“You are my one, my only, and my first.”
“You’re lying.”
The words are immediate, you can’t help yourself. Looking at the man before you, how handsome he was, how confident he was. You couldn’t make yourself believe that you were the only person he had ever been with.
There was no possible way… “I’m not lying, kitten.”
You could physically see the sincerity in his gaze, even if his lips were still curled in their typical smirk.
Slowly, you slump with defeat. Body melting into the couch as you stare at him dumbfounded.
“…not even a kiss? Or holding hands with anyone else?”
There’s a soft laugh that escapes him before nodding.
“Not even a kiss, no hand holding either. You are the only person I’ve done that with.”
It suddenly seemed like a hefty title to bear, Sylus’ only.
“Why?” You felt your vocabulary dwindling as your brain tried to rack itself around the monumental title you just now realized you owned.
“Because nobody appeals to me the way you do. Not one person I’ve encountered in this life time sings to my soul the way yours does. I’ve never cared until I met you.”
I’ve actually written Sylus and his “relationship status prior to MC” handful of ways, especially some in of my earlier work! But that was also based off of the Sylus lore we had at that point in time. Now, I genuinely can’t see him any other way… what a lover boy.
"do you know how much i love you?" sylus asks on a late evening, the two of you huddled close on the balcony. there's a chill in the air that threatens to dig into your bones but sylus' warmth holds it at bay as your back nestle deep into his chest.
you hum, feigning thought as you tap your chin. "you love me as much as all the money in the world," you reply teasingly, tilting your head back to catch his smile. it's infuriatingly handsome, even from this angle. "more than all the guns and jewels. more than anything you could ever own."
sylus huffs, amused, and leans all the down to kiss your forehead. "you'd correct," he says. "but that isn't the answer i'm thinking of."
you blink. "oh?" you asks, puzzled. "okay, then what is your answer?"
with a gentle hand, sylus tilts your head back up before angling it towards the stars above. then his arms coil tightly around your waist, pulling you in until the space between you vanishes. you melt like syrup into his heat, sweet and familiar and coated in his cologne. it lulls you into something soft, gifts you an emotion only he can give you.
"i do love you more than anything i could own," sylus begins, his voice a delicate song in your ears. "but i could only own so much and my love for you surpasses all the material possessions on this earth. in the universe and the many others that exist beyond our reach. i love you from the beginning of time to the end of time. i love you beyond time and during time. my love for you was there before they even knew what love meant. you, my dearest, are the very definition of love for me."
you stare up at the stars, still and shattered into a billion of tiny pieces. but his words rebuild you, every echo in your mind fitting you back together like the world's easiest puzzle. they don't make any mistakes; they fit each piece exactly where it needs to be until you've been made whole again. until your lungs inhale a hungry breath while trying not to hitch at the lump in your throat.
a warm hand wipes away a tear rolling down your cheek. but it can't keep up whens tears stream down like twin waterfalls. your world shifts when sylus slowly turns you around to face him, his expression heartachingly soft as he looks at you with such love and devotion.
"too much?" he teases, lightening the mood for your sake. but you shake your head, face crumpling up as your hands come up to hide your vulnerability from view. sylus' warmth engulfs you as he curls you into his arms and smatters feather-light kisses upon the top of your head.
"i love you so much," you sob out with such reverence coiled tightly the love itself that sylus swallows thickly.
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