You couldn’t quite figure out how you got into this position. 18+
One moment you were flooring it down the streets of the N109 Zone in one of Sylus’ many vintage cars. The next, every item on his mahogany desk was strewn across the floor. Your back — bare and prickling from the chill — pressed into the smooth surface.
Only your black polished leather heals remained on your body. The red bottoms faced the ceiling, slung over the broad expanse of Sylus’ shoulders and trembling with every devastating blow of his hips.
They sat upon his shoulders as if they belonged there, as if they were always meant to remain right there. Sylus surely seemed to think so, with the iron clad grip he had on your claves. Pressing his body weight further down into your own, listening to the satisfying creak of sturdy wood as he pounds you into its surface.
“S-s-Sylus!” He’s fucking you beyond dumb, your jaw so slack that you’d feel some level of embarrassment if you harbored any sense of shame around him. “You looked too perfect tonight.” Though, you couldn’t help but believe there was more of a motive behind this animalistic hunger. “Too many eyes were on you.”
He hits deep, driving that little bit of information home as stars explode through your vision. You barely register the pain of your head knocking against the desk. A garbled cry of his name leaving your lips as your nails dig into his skin, wherever you’re capable of reaching.
You’re so close to cumming, the wet slapping emitting between your bodies is more than enough to signify it. “Don’t even h-have to try to make me jealous, hmm?” He shifts, putting a knee up on the desk for better leverage to nearly fold you in half. “Just gotta look as beautiful as you a-always do… someone will look… their desires are so loud…”
You don’t restrain yourself as a harsh slap lands on your ass, nearly screaming as your entire body throbs with the need for release. Jealousy pushed him to this point and you didn’t even have to do anything… how cute. “S-Sy m’gonna…”
The desk is physically rocking with the force of his hips, and you barely have the strength to worry about it collapsing beneath you. All you can focus on is the never ending drag of his cock between your slick walls. The toe curling pleasure you desperately want to last forever, teetering right on the brink of euphoria.
Sylus x MC fluff. Babysitting, but with guns involved. 2,806 words.
The sound of distant gunshots rang in your ears as you sped down the N109 Zone on your 270HM. One week ago, Captain Jenna had instructed your team to take on a shadowy organization by the name of 'Silver Wolves' that had begun a calculated assault using dangerous high-protocore explosives on the border between Linkon and the N109 Zone. Their target was another faction by the name of 'Viridian.' Three Hightower explosions had already occurred in quick succession along the border.
Despite having the best Unicorn hunters on the job, it was nigh impossible to track them down. The explosions left no traces to the culprits. No footage, no biodata, not even eyewitnesses. Having no leads left you beyond frustrated.
That's why you texted Sylus and were on your way to one of his numerous hideouts. You didn't like the idea of relying too heavily on Onychinus intelligence, but this case just left you no choice.
With a screech, your 270HM came to a stop in front of a set of heavy steel doors. You left your helmet on the motorcycle and entered the passcode to the hideout. The doors unlocked.
"You think you can catch me?! Take tha—"
You paused. You were pretty sure you just heard the sound of a young girl trying to run away somewhere inside. Your blood ran cold; surely some hooligans snuck in here after kidnapping a little girl. Sylus would never stoop so low, right…?
After taking a deep breath, you unholstered your gun and kicked the doors wide.
Whatever scene you expected to walk in on, it certainly wasn't the one in front of you. A little girl—a first grader, if you had to guess—dressed in an extravagant princess gown, with blonde hair bigger than she was, was pointing a gun at Kieran, who had his hands up in the air.
While you stood there, eyes wider than ever, with your gun still pointed at the ceiling, the young girl expertly switched targets to point the gun at you. You tried to raise both hands despite still holding your own gun.
"Who's there?" Her tiny voice sounded as threatening as it could possibly be. Her eyes roamed over your figure, looking at the hunter uniform you were still wearing. "A hunter?! Crap, this place is compromised!"
Your heart nearly stopped when she pulled the trigger, but instead of the bullet you were expecting, a stream of water spurted out. It didn't reach you.
"Tch," you heard the little girl scoff.
"Don't worry, I'm not in the habit of arresting little girls…"
"Yeah, right! You'll never catch me alive!" She shimmied closer and pulled the trigger more forcefully this time. The water hit your chest.
"Renée." Just then, a young woman dressed in a maid uniform swooped in to pick up the child. She bowed to you apologetically. "We're very sorry," she said.
You glanced at Kieran, who was shaking with silent laughter, and huffed as you holstered your gun.
"Would anyone mind explaining to me what's going on here?" you asked, still glaring at Kieran.
It took a second for Kieran to calm down enough to answer. You could still hear the smirk in his voice, though. "Boss-man is inside, if you want to ask him directly. He's waiting for you."
You stomped your way over to Sylus's office; the sound of your boots echoed through the hideout. When you opened his office door, he was just hanging up a phone call.
"What's got you so worked up, kitten?"
"Sylus, since when does Onychinus harbor rabid children?"
He laughed. "She got you too, huh? Who would've guessed that Linkon's best hunter would ever be defeated by a seven-year-old."
"Seven-and-a-half!" a shrill voice from behind the door yelled out.
Sylus sighed. "Luke."
"We got it, boss-man," Luke responded immediately, his voice fading the farther he carried the little girl away.
"We're very sorry!" a woman's voice came not long after.
Sylus pinched the bridge of his nose. You giggled at him.
"She's formidable, it seems even the leader of Onychinus isn't safe from her wrath," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I assume you didn't come here just to play babysitter with me."
You sauntered over to the desk and sat on the edge. "Do I need a reason to visit?"
"You know you're always welcome at any of Onychinus's locations, sweetie." He took your hand and kissed it. "But a little birdie told me you've been scouring for information across the N109 Zone all week. And you didn't even think to come to me first. I'm hurt, kitten."
"That little birdie should mind his business."
He chuckled. "Won't you let me know what's been bothering you?"
"I assume you're already aware that the Association is looking to take down Silver Wolves."
"And what did you find out about them, sweetie?"
"They're after Viridian."
"I'm surprised you even got this far—the Association's reconnaissance really is getting better."
You scoffed. "If it was, then I'd already know where the Silver Wolves' boss is hiding."
"Not necessarily, kitten." He ran his hand along your calf. The heat of his fingers lingered on your skin. "Do you know what it is they're after?"
You crossed your arms. "Who knows? Some protocore shipment, I bet."
"Think bigger." His hand moved higher. You grabbed it. "For example, that little girl running around outside."
"…What would they want with her?"
"Hmm." He pulled his hand out from under yours and clasped your fist. "Let's say that little girl has a… unique case of Protocore Syndrome. I can think of a certain organization that would be veery interested in this… potential test subject."
Bastards.
"Naturally, your Association's methods stood little chance against them. Don't take it to heart, sweetie."
"So, what? You stole that kid before EVER and their new lapdogs could?"
"Oh? Is that how you think of me?" He looked up at you with those mischievous, enchanting eyes. "I only happened to make a deal with Viridian; I would ensure their boss's safety along with his family in exchange for certain high-grade protocores."
You looked away. "How convenient."
"Luke and Kieran managed to save his daughter from some would-be kidnappers interested in making a quick buck off the bounty Silver Wolves placed. I had them bring her here, away from Viridian's base for now."
"And if they figure out where she is?"
"Then they'll have to deal with me, kitten." He smirked.
"That's what you're hoping for, isn't it?" You scoffed. "Sylus, you're using the girl as bait."
He chuckled. "Relax, she's our esteemed guest. Naturally, I must guarantee her safety."
"And the maid?"
"Viridian's leader insisted the girl's nanny accompany her. 'For Onychinus's safety as much as her own,' as he put it." He leaned back in his chair. "I'm sure it would put his mind at ease to know that his daughter is being watched over by Linkon's guardian angel as well."
Thud! A loud noise startled you from behind. You exchanged a look with Sylus, then rushed to investigate.
Next to the door, the face of that tiny menace stared at you from a low vent in the wall. Somehow, she managed to give all the adults the slip in order to listen in on your conversation.
"Ohh, I get it," she said with a smug expression. "The leader of Onychinus has a mole at the Hunter's Association. You have them in your pocket, and make them go after your enemies. Clever."
You bent down to effortlessly pull her out.
"You watch too many spy cartoons."
A sly giggle came from behind you. You turned to point at Sylus.
"And you're enjoying this way too much!"
Absolute chaos roamed throughout the relatively small hideout—what would be considered small for Onychinus, at least. A cacophony nearly pierced the sound barrier as Renée chased a mechanical bird with a water gun half her size. While being egged on by two teenagers. Followed by a concerned nanny, politely begging her to simmer down.
You sat on the couch while that circus ran laps around you. To your side, Sylus leaned further back into the headrest, rubbing his forehead. You decided to add to his troubles.
"You know, if she actually gets Mephie with that water gun, won't he short-circuit?"
"If he somehow also manages to get shot by a second-grader, then we'll have no choice but to surrender, I suppose," he cocked his head to watch as the haze of people and bird passed by; the corners of his lips raised ever so slightly.
After a couple more laps, Mephisto took a sharp turn to land on Sylus's hand. A hologram screen projected from the bird's eyes. Sylus studied the contents intently; it seemed the trap had been triggered.
Sylus moved to get up when Renée crashed into his long leg in her effort to continue chasing the bird. Mephisto mockingly cawed at her, but she was too distracted to notice. Instead, her eyes were fixed on the terrifying giant above her. Slowly, she walked backwards with a nervous laugh until she was far enough away to run for cover.
"Seems our little scamp still knows how to be scared of something."
"Can you blame her, sweetie? I am the scary big bad boss of Onychinus."
You poked his forearm. "Yet here you are, protecting her."
"Protecting her? I'm not sure she sees it that way." He poked your forehead. "You didn't see it that way when I stole you from that Nest rat."
You pouted. "That's different."
"I don't see how, kitten."
Just then, a loud explosion resounded near the base's entrance. The mayhem inside went quiet in an instant. Without missing a beat, the twins began redirecting Renée and her nanny to a safer room.
“Join them. This won’t take long,” Sylus said in a stern voice.
When Sylus began to move, you grabbed him by the arm. He gave you a look of concern.
"You want me to hide?" you asked, indignant. "In case you forgot, this is my mission."
A gunshot fired into the room; the bullet floated in the air encased in a red-black mist before falling to the ground unceremoniously.
You unholstered your gun. "You're welcome to tag along, if you want."
Loud laughter shook Sylus's chest. He extended his arm to the door with a bow. "After you, Captain."
Behind a vaulted door, Luke and Kieran were following their instructions to keep the guests safe—and to entertain them, should need be.
The sounds of gunshots and explosions continued unabated. The more it intensified, the more the nanny clung to her little girl—much to Renée's dismay.
"Ugh, why do I always have to hide when the action starts!" she cried out. "I am Viridian's protégé! You should at least let me watch."
"Hey, we're stuck here too, you know," said Kieran.
"Sometimes you just gotta miss out," chimed in Luke.
"No fair!"
The little girl began to squirm in her nanny's arms. The woman let out a shaky sigh.
"Please, Renée. It'll be over soon." Her voice cracked. "It'll be alright," she breathed out in a whisper. Almost like she was comforting herself before the restless child.
Kieran left his spot by the door, and walked closer. He flashed a mischievous smirk under his mask. "I know of something more exciting than the gunshots. Wanna hear?"
He sat down on the ground and gestured to Renée to sit next to him. She would have happily obliged, if not for the woman clutching onto her for dear life—her anxious eyes fixated on Kieran. He simply nodded at her, and after a beat, she looked away and finally released the girl from her grasp.
"What is it! Tell me!" Renée threw herself forward as soon as she was free. Her little body vibrated with enthusiasm.
"Oh, nothing… Just some juicy Onychinus gossip."
Renée jumped excitedly. A sparkle gleamed in her eyes. She caught herself, and put on her best serious face as if she hadn't just squealed mere seconds ago. "Give me all your top-secret information. Viridian will make sure you get out of here alive."
"I don't believe that's a good idea—" the nanny tried to interrupt, when Luke placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Don't worry," he whispered. "He's not that stupid. He's just making things up."
Eventually, the steady noise of heavy gunfire began to thin. While Renée was fully engrossed in Kieran's wildly exaggerated stories, her nanny kept an ear to the wall, her anxiety written plain on her face.
"I could tell you some stories too, if you'd like." It took a moment for the nanny to register that Luke was speaking to her.
"N-no, thank you. I'm alright." She gave a sheepish smile.
"You didn't grow up in the N109 Zone, did you?"
"I—well…" She sighed. "It's a long story. But I… I'm here for Renée. She means the world to me."
A familiar caw drew Luke's attention to the small horizontal window that was their only connection to the outside world. Mephisto was here to signal an all-clear to the twins.
The heavy door yielded to Luke's pulling, and the impromptu shelter group stepped past it—only to find the rest of the hideout utterly destroyed. In the middle of all the rubble, you stood next to Sylus, both covered in tiny scratches and some light bruises. Sylus had already begun to heal some of them.
"Heh heh heh…" Renée muttered under her breath. With all the confidence in the world, she strutted over to Sylus. She placed her fists on her hips and puffed her chest.
"Once I take over Viridian, you'll have no choice but to renegotiate the terms of our agreement! After all, I know all of Onychinus's secrets now."
"Renée!" cried out the young girl's nanny in panic. She tried to rush to grab Renée when Sylus motioned for her to stay.
She stopped in her tracks, her body shaking. She started to plead. "Mr. Sylus, we're very sorry. Please, don't mind her. She's just a little kid—she doesn't know what she's saying!" But Sylus didn't even look at her. He kept his attention on Renée.
"Oh no," he said in a drawn-out, playful tone. He crouched down to be closer to the little girl's height, only to still be considerably taller. He very gently flicked her forehead and watched as she scowled at him while rubbing the spot he flicked.
"Then I have no choice but to wait for your offer, little lady. But just so you know, I don't accept bad deals."
Her eyes lit up with excitement. "I'll make you an offer you can't refuse! Just you wait!"
He chuckled. "I look forward to it."
Once he was done with the conversation, he finally allowed the poor nanny to move closer and pick up the child. She held her little girl close.
"Your boss should contact you shortly." He swiped a finger at his split lip, healing it instantly. "Make sure she gets back safely. She has a promise to keep."
"T-thank you, Mr. Sylus," the nanny managed to eke out. She hugged Renée tighter. "I will… I'll keep her safe."
Ten minutes later, a limo arrived for the young lady and her chaperone. Renée waved goodbye before they disappeared behind the window tint. You waved back.
Luke and Kieran left to check for any stragglers. Mephisto was running surveillance. The hideout was finally quiet. You plopped onto the cut-up sofa. Sylus followed your lead soon after. He placed his arm around your shoulder.
"I guess we should head back to the base," he said. "You can report back to the Association from there."
You gave a short, satisfied hum, only to giggle when a thought popped into your head.
"What's so funny, kitten?"
"Sylus, do you think you'll ever be handing your empire over to your progeny?"
He scoffed, then leaned over to kiss your head.
"Well, I'd have to have a child first to ever consider that."
You placed a hand over his chest. He moved his hand over yours. "Would you want that?"
"A child?" He pretended to mull it over. "Don't you think this lifestyle is too unstable for a kid?"
"I didn't ask about logistics. I asked if you want it—a little boy or girl who adores you."
He stared into your eyes and you stared back intently. In them, you saw a tenderness reserved only for you. You thought about what it might be like to share that tenderness with your own tiny troublemaker, and your heart skipped a beat.
"A mini-you who adores me, huh…" He smirked and brought your hand up and peppered kisses along your arm. "I'm convinced. Let's have ten, at least."
Oh? Is Dvalin yawning? Then here, try some apple cake! One bite and you'll be feeling refreshed in no time!
Well? Good, isn't it? I went out of my way to learn this recipe from the Traveler.
Ahaha, no need to rush... We made plenty. Here, have an apple cookie too.
Looks like Dvalin likes my cooking... You'll have to teach me another dessert recipe sometime. Or maybe we should call it, "One Hundred Ways to Make Apples"?
sylus right now seems to have absolutely zero respect for the concept of working from home.
you’re sitting on the couch with your laptop resting on your thighs, typing out a report for the association. you are right in the middle of typing a very professional sentence when the cushion beside you sinks down drastically.
a second later, a silver head drops right onto your laptop keyboard.
sylus stretches out across the rest of the couch, completely unbothered, using your computer and by extension–your lap, as his personal pilloww. his heavy shoulder blocks your view of the screen and his silver hair instantly presses against your keys, creating a random string of letters.
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhjjjjjjkkg.
“sylus,” you sigh, staring down at him. “i’m in the middle of a report.”
“delete it,” he rumbles, voice low and lazy against your thigh. “it looks boring.”
“it’s an official report of a wanderer!” you say, trying to nudge his shoulder but he’s like a block of concrete. he dosen’t move an inch. “get off, you’re typing gibberish.”
sylus lets out a deep, vibrating huff that warms your leg through your pants. slowly, his head slides off the laptop and fully into your lap. he tilts his head up to look at you. his piercing red eyes are full of pure, sleepy mischief and that familiar, arrogant smirk is firmly in place.
“let the association handle it,” he says smoothly, reaching to slap the laptop shut. it snaps close, trapping his fingers before he pulls them free. “you’ve been staring at that little box for two hours, kitten. pay attention to me instead.”
“you’re a giant menace,” you huff, crossing your arms and glaring down at him.
“whatever you say, sweetie,” he replies with lazy fondness.
he dosen’t even wait for you to start arguing again. he reaches his large, long, hands up, hooks them under your arms and effortlessly pulls you down. you let out a large gasp as you slide off the couch cushions and collapse right into his broad chest. your laptop slides harmlessly onto the carpet.
sylus wraps his arms around your waist, locking you flag against him. he feels like a furnace, chest rising and falling beneath your cheek.
“sylus! let me up, i need to send that–”
“shh. you’re making too much noise, sweetie,” he chides playfully, voice dropping to a comfortable drawl.
he tucks his chin over the top of your head, long fingers rubbing circles into the small of your back, effectively melting all the tension out of your spine.
you try to wiggle out of his grip, but it’s completely useless. he’s too warm, too strong and entirely too comfortable. with a defeated sigh, you let your forehead drop against his collarbone, your hands curling into his shirt.
“i hate you,” you mumble into his chest.
sylus just chuckles, a deep sound that echoes right under your ear. he presses a quick, lazy kiss to the crown of your head, his grip tightening just a fraction to keep you right where you are.
“sure you do,” he purrs, his eyes closing as he settles in for a nap. “now stay still. you make a good blanket.”
stayrus x sorceress!mc/reader. Summary: you teach Sylus that love is brutal devotion, and that actions speak louder than words. Suggestive, fluff and banter, cannibalistic imagery as metaphor. ~1300 words.
Does it hurt, you ask.
Mmm? Eyes half-lidded, pupils blown wide as the sun bleeds into the flowered fields, crimson on crimson, aglow like his eyes. His question is lazy, distracted. His wings unfold behind him, the veins spiderwebbing shadows through the thin membranes. They, too, are molten with the dying light.
Here, you murmur, fingertips brushing carefully across the hard, black, bone-like protrusions drifting from his ear, along his cheek, jagged down his jaw.
Mouth to mouth, his lips are the softest part of him right now, aside from those wide, wide wings. Eyes focused on yours, he breathes a sigh, licking delicately along your bottom lip.
No. I can’t feel it when you touch me there so softly. If you want to hurt me, you’ll have to press harder.
Chest to chest, hips to hips, you straddle his lap as his clawed hands span the width of your back. Close like this, you can’t tell where his skin ends and yours begins, hot and sweaty in the windless valley palmed between looming mountain peaks, like a child’s fingers curved over a captured dragonfly, sheltering, or smothering, only the life or death of the dragonfly will tell.
Opening your mouth, exposing your teeth, you nip the tip of his tongue. He hisses, a sharp little sound, but his pupils swallow his irises, black holes crushing hydrogen flames.
You suck, pulling his tongue into your mouth to soothe it with the softness of your own. He lets you.
The sun drowns itself in the jagged horizon as the fireflies flare, competing with the stars as they blink over the darkened valley of flowers. The world is so still, there is only the wet sound of your mouth on his, the creak of his leathers under your hips, the soft sounds deep in his throat.
Finally, you release him. I didn’t ask in order to hurt you.
The arch of a silver brow, the heavy thump of a vicious tail flicking. Flowers torn from the stems, their nectar oozing from newly broken stalks. They make you dizzy with the release of their intoxicating scent. Could have fooled me, sorceress.
You press your lips to his, soft, soft, hard. Teeth and tongue, until you force yourself to pull back. It’s hard, when you want to swallow him whole. It just looks painful, like a callous grown too thick.
If this is flattery, you need more practice. He turns his head, hiding that side of his face from you despite his apparent indifference.
Stop deliberately misunderstanding me. I’m trying to learn more about you. Nudging his jaw, guiding him back to look at you, you press the tip of your nose against his, rubbing gently. You're trying to say, you are safe with me. Even when I want to carve you into pieces, savor every bite of you, it's only because I don't know how to contain how hungry I am for you.
Ask about my manhood then, if you’re so interested in my body. I’ll gladly deepen your acquaintance. He bucks his hips, pressing into you, as if to drive his point home, if not just his manhood.
You laugh, always startled by these flashes of lighthearted teasing, of dry humor.
But you will not swayed, or distracted.
Fingers drifting further up his face, you plunge them into the lush fall of his hair, run your nails through its silken strands to drag along his scalp.
A low rumbling against your heart. He purrs, eyes closing fully. You miss their light immediately.
Stayrus, you say, halting as ever. You have something to say, but this bothers you, every time. I hate that I can’t pronounce your true name.
He opens his eyes again, their glow brighter than the firefly flickers filling the night around you. Enough of that. I like that you gave me a new one. I like the one you gave me.
You'd look away, if you could stand to be parted from his gaze. No matter how long you're with him, every moment with him feels like it could be your last. You know all too well that the world is too cruel to let you keep him for long.
Stayrus, you repeat. A prayer.
Sorceress, he answers, the ritualistic answer to a prayer.
You call, he answers. He calls, you answer.
This is how you both know you're both still alive, after the bloodbaths.
And these? Finally, you grip the base of his horns, thrusting from his tender scalp. Do these hurt?
His steady gaze falters, drifts across the starlit valley, flickering above, flickering below. Only when they first grew in.
Liar.
His claws tighten along the skin of your back, but not enough to draw blood. Yet.
Cease your endless questioning. Let us indulge in real pleasures.
Again, you guide his gaze back to yours by gently tugging on his horns, recovering what is yours by right. His eyes on you. Your eyes on him. My first pleasure is learning more of you. There is no other pleasure for me, without satisfaction of the first.
Scowling, he considers your terms, and then accedes. They hurt when they first came in, and they hurt when I tried to carve them from my skull.
He must want to rut very much, if he's willing to be so forthcoming about something so sensitive with so little resistance. You reward him with a sharp smile.
Why would you carve them from your skull? They’re beautiful.
His scowl deepens, but his eyes remain on yours. His vanity, soothed by your words. Beautiful like a bull’s eye to the archer, perhaps.
All at once, you understand.
The stars pulse, overhead. The fireflies flicker, underneath.
This world is cruel to those who are different. His horns, a symbol of his otherness. Your blank stare, a symbol of yours.
Kindred spirits, hunted by frightened fools.
You caress the wicked points of his horns, satisfied only when you draw blood from the tip of each forefinger. Smearing your blood along his bottom lip, you ask, Did you try many times, then?
Only a fool keeps trying the same thing repeatedly with the same results, every time.
Something in your chest spasms at his non-answer. They say you don't have one, so surely it's not your heart that hurts so much at his unspoken confession. So you were very foolish.
Closing his eyes, nostrils flaring in a resigned sigh. Are you satisfied? Will you cease your fruitless questions, now?
Of course. You never want to hurt him, even as you want to peel him like a fruit, lap up his tender flesh, drink his juices, carry him in your stomach forever.
You want them to have to disembowel you, to get to him.
All you can say: It’s just as well you quit on your own. Else I would have made you stop.
The molten glow of his eyes follows your lips in the dark. Confusion. Wonder. Why?
Leaning down, hands still curled around his traitorous horns, you press your lips to his forehead. To his eyebrows, first right, then left. To his nose, in all of its proud glory. Finally, you lean back, meet his glowing gaze. What need have you now for camouflage, when I will skin alive any who dares touch you, and wear their pelt like a cloak in the high, cold atmosphere when we fly?
Through the leathers over his groin, he hardens against your body.
Is this what you mean by love, he wonders aloud, voice wonder-filled.
You grind your hips against his, your hot wet heat against the iron length of him. What else could it be, my dragon?
He stares. In the deep dusk, you can barely make out the serious tilt of his thoughtful mouth, the sharp slope of his nose. His eyes, focused on yours. Whatever it is, I like it. Tell me more.
You laugh. The fireflies scatter at the sound as it echoes through the valley, as townsfolk scatter at the sound of your warcries fanned by the heavy beat of his wings.
Words are cheap. I’ll show you, instead.
And so you do, under the pinprick diamond sky, amidst the suspension of fireflies, under the blanket of datura.
As his hips slap against yours, and your saliva drips into his mouth in one long string—as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, and his claws into your spine, he gasps, Does it hurt?
Through the pleasure of his body filling yours, his claws in your muscles, his teeth in your flesh, his question evokes only the memory of the spasm of your heart in response to his youthful pain, his misguided self-mutilation. But you don't know how to explain how it hurts you, now, when you must witness his hurt. You too are still young, and your wisdom limited.
You cheat, echoing his words instead: Only when you first come in. Only when I try to carve you from me. When his hips stutter, faltering in their relentless rhythm, you cry out. Keep going.
He laughs, breathless, his youth mirroring yours. Only a fool keeps trying the same thing repeatedly with the same results.
Bringing your lips close to the lovely curves of his delicate ear, you whisper, Then I'm gladly a fool for you. Don’t. Stop.
As you wish, he lies as he pauses, then thrusts once, hard, following your enraged whine. My beloved.
i hope you enjoyed reading! i saw this art last night and immediately started writing this drabble on my phone. it's so crazy to think that so much of who sylus is now comes from his time with sorceress mc in their first life together. hurts to think about. i'd love to hear your thoughts in tags or comments, if you feel like sharing!
abstract: your boyfriend just does things that makes your heart flutter and your panties dampen <3
ft. rafayel, sylus, zayne, xavier, caleb
cw: insp by the tiktok trend ; fluff + smut; body worship, somno, riding, fingering | [implied short reader with caleb + chubby reader w/ rafayel; implied yandere! caleb] - unedited <3
⊹ ࣪ ˖ rafayel qi ; the way he’s so clingy
whenever rafayel manages to get some time with you, of course he's going to be clingy. his arms are going to be glued around your plush tummy for the whole time he's lounging around with you. his head resting on your shoulder while doing any task with you in front of him. even when he paints, he'd have you sitting between his legs or on his lap, one hand caressing and rubbing circles on your love handles or plush thighs, while the other focuses on the canvas in front of him.
but of course, his clinginess isn't only limited outside the bedroom. and that alone, gets you so turned on.
"shh, don't run away. stay w'me..." he'd whine, an arm wrapped around your tummy and only tightening the more you arched your back away from him. it was tortuous—absolutely insane. normally, he'd be sassy with it, still having a little bit of a joking tone, but when he's fucking you, holding your leg up while he bullies his cock inside you from the side, he turns so needy and clingy, and you fucking love it.
"so pretty... so gorgeous... c'mon, i like it when you're close to me..."
⊹ ࣪ ˖ sylus qin ; the way he moves you gently by your waist
even though you're at a stage in your relationship where you're comfortable with everything sylus does, you still find your heart beat faster every time sylus gently moves you by your waist to get you out of his way.
"move, sweetheart." he'd speak so smoothly while he just moves you so gently, so . of course you'd be acting all shy and flustered. but oh, even when you two have sex, his touches just hold so much weight.
he’d be sitting on one of his elaborate chairs, with you propped up on his lap grinding against his cock before he could ever be inside you. then, even when you try to sink down on him, sylus would have his hands on your hips, slowly pushing you down and helping while you cried out.
“don’t cry, pretty girl. shhh, don’t cry…” you’d be clinging onto him, arms wrapped around him while you could feel him fill you up—and not even being able to take all of him. you would be struggling, but of course, he’d help you. he'd angle his own hips, slightly slouch while keeping the hold on you firm while slowly slamming you onto him. and then when you choose to move your hips all sensually in figure-8s, his light touches would continue and he would rub circles on your skin—a contrast to how he'd move you.
"shit...yeah, sweetheart. keep moving those hips like that."
⊹ ࣪ ˖ zayne li ; the way he lifts his sleeves up + holds eye contact
you know that zayne gets busy as a doctor. but you can't help but just stare at he way he lifts his sleeves up whenever he has a demanding task. you really can't help but stare at the way his arms. the way that the veins on his forearms would be more evident every time he flexed without even knowing how that affected you.
"you know, some people try to be more subtle when they stare." he’d say something like that, because of course zayne pays attention to how you’d stare. he'd notice how you'd look away or how your expression would falter every time he held eye contact with you. you just got flustered over everything.
oh and it's especially even hotter when he enacts on his observations.
"so impatient for me, aren't you?"
he’d roll up his sleeves, crouching down while you’d sit on his desk, panties pulled down while he played with your pussy. he would be rubbing on your clit with one hand and thrusting his pretty fingers with the other; a slightly flustered expression would grace his face. but god, every time he did so, every time he would do that, he would look up at you and hold eye contact, wanting to see your cute little reactions as he ruined you on his desk.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ xavier shen ; the way his voice gets when he wakes up
there's something about the way that xavier's voice gets every time he wakes up beside you. maybe it's the way that it's much quieter and deeper than usual, or that hot vocal fry that adds onto his usually meek voice. he can get quite clingy, especially in the morning, but the way he says things when he barely wakes up—the way he speaks so gently, makes you so flustered.
"shh... just 3 more minutes. let me just hold you for a bit more." he'd snuggle up against you, muttering some weak pleas on how he doesn't want to get out of this position with you just yet. and same thing for morning sex…
“don’t wanna get out of this position…” he’d have you in pronebone, with his arms caging you and yours wrapped around his neck while he’d slowly fuck you, his body and weight pressed against you. the both of you would still be half asleep, clinging onto each other under the covers.
maybe if you were in a hurry, you’d yelp a little ‘we have to get up!’, but your pleas would fall upon deaf ears.
“mmm..not yet.”
⊹ ࣪ ˖ caleb xia ; the way he would condescendingly tease you
the nickname he's implaced upon you being 'pipsqueak' is teasing and condescending enough, but sometimes when he's feeling really sassy, caleb just keeps going with that. it's bad enough that he's taller than you, but he would just crouch down—a smile etched on his face and speak with a tone that was laced with playful malice.
"mhm? yeah? how nice." and of course, even with that dark tone and accompanying mocking smile, your heart just does a little leap in your chest; you can't help it, despite him doing so just to mess with you. something is too high up? he'd mess with you with a 'awh, can't reach up and get it?'
but when you have sex, that condescending tone gets worse; his teasing overall gets worse. "awh, pips. can't take it, huh? c'mon sweet girl... you can do it, can't you?"
even in the most basic position like missionary, it's hard to get away from whatever remarks he might make, but regardless, it was still hot. just the way he would slam into you, pressing your tummy bulge hard with his free hand while he held your hand with his other, tangling your fingers together.
oh god... he was mean. you would be crying and he’d have such a dark look on his face, relishing in the fact that he’s the only one to have you like this.
because he knows damn well you like that.
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a/n: first lads post ever... what do we think...? (i'm so fucking scared i'm a baby lads fan i'm not that seasoned yet...)
