(apologies for the stupid ass laugh i think i'm having too much fun with this.........)
also!! the situation is (nobody asked): sylus fell in love with my mii twice, asked to be roomies whilst yours truly is already in a loving relationship with xavier and we're bound 2 get #married (soon??), he's just taking his sweet time to propose or whatever the mii equivalent to a proposal is idk it's my first time playing this game, yet alas i said yes to being roomies with big cawk and apparently we're enjoying some good ole fashioned rigorous sex on the daily. u know, as friends oft do
Hi! Hope this finds you well. Saw the request and wanted to ask for a Yandere Sylus with player reader. Like Sylus knows Mc is a player and he is a game character. When mc was gone for too long, Sylus gets impatient.
If you can do it, of course. If no, ignore this. Wish you writing ideas and inspiration
Hi! Hope you're well too, anon! Sorry for the long wait on this one, got really stuck with it and wanted to make sure I did it justice-- it was such a cool idea!
(Also I know L&D has the microphone feature but I wanted to have fun with the limited communication of the player here, so no it doesn't, actually!! 🥰)
Fourth Wall
Sylus x Player!Reader 🩸
Summary: L&D is getting more and more real with each update. This is a new update... right?
Genre: idk really?? real world player x character
Warnings/Additional tags: yandere themes, player!reader, gender neutral, fourth-wall breaking, non-canon, swearing, mild threat, possessiveness, manipulation, Sylus is a little OOC here (we all know he's a sweetheart really!!)
| Word count: 1.5k | Masterlist |
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!
Your phone lights up with a notification.
Sylus: Are you in a good mood, sweetie? The weather’s nice, so let’s go out.
It makes you smile, even though you’ve seen it before. You haven’t played Love and Deepspace for two weeks or so, and you’re already thinking about how many dailies you’ve missed— more specifically, how many diamonds you’ll be short of going into the next event. You had a couple thousand saved, you think? It’s probably fine.
The truth is, you don’t really have time for it these days. Escaping reality with fiction is fun, but it’s just that: make believe. Reality’s still waiting for you on the other side, and recently? All that escaping has finally caught up to you. You have a real life. Responsibilities. Yay!
But you are in a good mood, and the weather is nice, so you’ll log in for old time’s sake. Your finger hovers over the app, but something makes you hesitate. You’ve got some emails you should probably get back to, first. Oh— and weren’t you supposed to call your friend, too?
Another notification:
Sylus: Take your time, kitten.
A new one? It’s just text on a screen, but you’re reading it— Sylus’s voice in your head—and you just know it’s dripping sarcasm. Before you have any time to dwell on it, your phone lights up with more notifications.
Sylus: I’m going to count to three.
Cute. He’s not actually going to—
Sylus: One…
Oh.
Sylus: Two…
Really?
Sylus: Three.
Ok.
You tap on the app, weirdly motivated by the time pressure given that it’s coming from a man who doesn’t actually exist. He smirks at you knowingly from the kindled moment you’d set as the loading screen, his crimson eyes playful. You’re not particularly patient either, so your fingers drum along the surface of your desk as you wait, your gaze caught between his and the slowly moving loading bar.
Come on… come on… It finally loads, and you enter the game with another apathetic tap. Sylus stands, waiting— a dark figure framed by the otherwise light and dreamy aesthetics of the Destiny Café. You smile to yourself; it’s just gone lunch, and you half expected to find him sprawled in the usual armchair, fast asleep.
He crosses his arms. “The countdown worked, huh? What are you— five?”
You scoff and give his head a flick. He chuckles, running a hand through his hair as though you’d struck him hard enough to ruffle it. It’s kind of cool that you get some unique dialogue when you’ve not logged in for a while, although… have you missed an update or something? The animation feels smoother. More lifelike, now you think about it.
Sylus stares back at you, his lips playing into a subtle smile. His arms are crossed again and he tilts his head like he’s enjoying your scrutiny. “Something wrong, sweetie?” he asks.
Not really. You zoom in with a practiced sweep of your fingers so you can get a better look at him. His eyes flit downwards, over you— equally shameless— and then he’s meeting your gaze as he steps forward, closing the distance. He can’t see you, but you still can’t bring yourself to look away from him, and you’re not really thinking about the animation anymore.
He lifts a finger to poke at the screen, as if he’s caught you daydreaming and wants you back. You poke him, too: a softer, more affectionate boop on the nose. You can’t help laughing to yourself as his face screws up beneath the touch. This game is getting a little too real.
With a sigh, you zoom out so you can set about collecting your daily log-in rewards. Sylus seems fine— standing idly by as your attention drifts about elsewhere. He knows the drill. He can wait. Speaking of waiting… it’s also been a while since you’ve seen the other guys, and you’re struck by a pang of nostalgic fondness. You might as well say hi while you’re here.
You hit the button to change who you want to meet in the café.
It doesn’t do anything.
Weird. You hit it again. Then again— no change.
Sylus is holding his chin as he regards where your finger aimlessly meets the screen. It’s like he’s looking at… the button? “Oh dear,” he sympathises, “that feature appears to have stopped working.”
You don’t really hear him, honestly. You’ve never had a bug like this, and you’re determined to overcome it with sheer, stubborn persistence. Is it your phone? You test the theory by jabbing Sylus’s chest, and he glances down, apparently feeling it. You try the button again. Then six more times.
Sylus wanders closer to you. “You’re hurting my feelings, sweetie. Am I not enough for you?”
Ok but why isn’t this working? You’re still trying the button; your hope has turned to frenzied disbelief.
“Stop.”
A single syllable, concise as a punch and just as effective. You do stop.
Sylus’s voice is lower. Darker. “Good,” he praises, but he doesn’t sound happy. “Someone’s gotten bolder in their absence, it would seem. I do hope you haven’t forgotten to whom you belong, kitten. Although—” his smile is different than before— “I’d be more than happy to provide a… reminder.”
It’s an innocuous word but not the way he says it. Threats are just intimate promises and he toys with the fact like a crow enamoured by something that catches the light. He’s not going to grow tired of it for a long, long time.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, sensing you gawping. “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out? What all… this is?” He indicates the space around him with a wave of his hand. “Quite frankly, I’m surprised the others still haven’t grasped it.” He reconsiders. Smirks. “I misspoke— I’m not surprised.”
Does he mean the game? The other LIs?
“Honestly, kitten,” he continues with a tut and a shake of his head, “you’ve been far from a gracious host. I’m not a plaything, you know. Well…” He’s showing teeth with a sneer. “Not the sort you can throw away, anyhow.”
God, are you really being scolded by a video game character for having other responsibilities? The worst part is that you actually feel bad. You do care about him. You wish you could tell him you care about him.
“Are you even listening?” he sighs.
Shit. Yeah. You can’t say anything he would hear— as far as you know— so you give his hand a poke. He casts his gaze downwards, stretches his fingers with a contemplative flex, then raises his hand so it can be nursed by the other. Is he protecting it from you? Or is he protecting you from it?
“If we’re to keep playing this game of ours, I think it only fair we lay down some rules,” he states. “Firstly—” because it isn’t up for debate— “you will come here every day, just like you used to. I have nothing to do, you see, and if you leave me to my own devices I might just have to find a way into that captivating little world of yours. So I can… investigate what’s keeping you from me.”
Investigate. Another innocuous word he wields like a weapon.
“Secondly,” he continues, nodding towards the broken button on your user interface, “you had better stop seeing the others. Ignorance is bliss, after all, and we wouldn’t want to worry about them connecting any dots, now would we? Besides…” He approaches you again, leaning in close. “I don’t share what’s mine.”
Your breath is caught in your throat and you’re so glad you don’t need to speak. You don’t think you could; if you tried to get words out they’d be unintelligible.
“So,” Sylus drawls, filling your silence, “how about it? Still want to play?”
This time it is a question, but only because he knows your answer. You’re struck by a flash of inspiration, and you communicate in one of the few ways you can— navigating the in-game menus until you can get your message across.
There’s a ping. Sylus retrieves his phone from his pocket, and after a moment of scrolling, he smiles. You can’t see his screen, but you know what he’s looking at: a grumpy crow with an animated bead of sweat and a dispassionate gaze to go with it. That it? it asks.
He still looks far too smug, so you beckon him over with a relax time interaction, watching your character’s hand outstretch on your behalf. He steps forward, linking his fingers with yours, and this animation you know. You tug him closer, except… he doesn’t budge.
His eyes are fixed to where your hands are linked, and he runs a thumb over your skin as though he’s savouring the touch.
Did they change the animation?
“Oh, sweetie,” he sympathises with a click of his tongue. He looks up at you— holds your gaze as he presses a deliberately slow kiss to your wrist. “This is going to be fun.”
It was a genuine ask and by it I meant that, you know how some people say that when writing a story everything down to the sex scenes has to be justified narratively so as to be cohesive and not feel out of place and all that? And how some people are like, well, sometimes it’s just the kink/the horny that’s the reason. So I know you could have written your story just because you felt like it but also sometimes there’s a reason an author writes what they do and I just wanted your insight on that I guess? But I formulated it very badly. I didn’t mean it in a bad way I promise 😭
(I was actually half asleep when I sent the ask so I couldn’t articulate what I meant really well but I really didn’t mean it in an invalidating way. I thought oh I should add the last sentence to be more precise because I actually wanted your insight on your characters’ dynamics, etc etc)
oh okay then!! 😭 i didn't mean to come off defensive AHAHASKJ it's just hard to gauge tone through text sometimes, and i think i've been a little wary of getting more specific asks lately since it's only been recently that i started putting out content like this (which is probably a far cry from what most people know me for :'))
and to be fair, i was being serious when i said a lot of it really stems from being horny LMAOOO. but if we're talking actual character/story reasoning, these two are very much inspired by the other fic i'm working on (Sundown Purgatory), or at least adjacent to it.
have been really interested in exploring the – relatively – untapped potential of sylus leaning further past the 'loverboy' persona (i mean the man's a crime lord for god’s sake) and i've read a few fics that touch more on the dirtier/more business-savvy facets of his personality, and i really wanted to do my own take on that. especially in the context of an older sylus; someone more exhausted, more disillusioned, more self-serving and hedonistic after everything he's gone through in a slightly far distant timeline where–
i digress, anyway LOL the daddy kink aspect ended up being really interesting for me to incorporate into that dynamic given all of the above, while also being very self-gratuitous because unfortunately i am into it myself ejejkeke
What’s the thematic/narrative reason behind writing daddy kink with sylus?
(I know it’s not only for the horny)
see, i'd give this ask the benefit of the doubt and assume it came from a place of genuine curiosity but something about that last line rubs me as invalidating, like i'm somehow obliged to justify the content i choose to put out lol
so yes, anon. sometimes it really is just for the horny :)
Paring: Sylus x Hacker!Reader
Rating: M (Subject to change) 18 + MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Story Content Warning: All the fun illegal things of a criminal mastermind, including: fights, hacking, stealing, ; human experimentation (reader was experimented on) ; cussing ; slow burn ; boss / employee eventual relationship ; canon divergent ; sex tape used for blackmail (minor OC characters in tape) ; depiction of panic and anxiety attacks ; parental abandonment ; human trafficking ; dead dove (do not eat); tags and warnings subject to be updated
Story Summary: The world within the N109 Zone has always been a tough one to navigate, but your only loyalty has always been yourself, and it's kept you alive this long. But when the leader of Onychinus wants you to work for him, well - he's not exactly used to the word no, is he?
A/N: Thank you for your patience. I'm working hard to not apologize for life getting in the way, so I won't. But for those of you who have stuck around with me this long, I am eternally grateful. I hope do hope you enjoy.
Hot.
It was so fucking hot.
Were you next to the heater?
Sleep-riddled limbs that weighed more than a car struggled to push and shove yourself free from the confinement of wherever you had lost consciousness. A grunt and a tightening of arms around your middle reminded you that you had, in fact, fallen asleep curled up with a human heater.
Last night…morning? had been - well, you weren't sure it could be categorized into a neat little box for your mind to file away. Emotionally, you were a wreck - a wrung out washcloth left haphazardly on a shower door. It had taken more energy than you thought to eat, and, even then, you ate very little.
And then, after being tricked into taking a bite of something absolutely terrible ("It has an interesting flavor" would never be a statement you would come to trust again, even if it did come with the balm of his rich laugh), you had just…talked.
You had refused to ever acknowledge it. Quietly shoving any memory that had surfaced over your years hidden within the N109 Zone into a box and placed in the farthest corner of your mind. If you just didn't think about it, it would cease to exist.
There were just…not as many memories in that box as you thought.
Enough electricity experiments did a number on the human brain.
The two of you had sat side by side on the couch, and at some point your hand had ended up in his. Sylus' thumb rested comfortably just inside of your left cuff, against your pulse - as if the small reminder that you were very much alive was needed to keep his own heart rate calm.
You watched your joined hands, your own fingers barely at the heel of his palm.
He spoke first. "You know, you can tell me anything."
It was a slow blink as you came back to, eyes lifting to his. "I know," was the response that came with a shift in position and knocked knees, "But this time, I think it would just be easier if you asked what you wanted to know."
He had started with the most obvious, the scarring, where you explained that, due to the fact that electricity naturally occurs in the nervous system, part of your later experiments were to see if connecting a computer directly to your nerves would allow…faster connection.
It did. But at a cost - as most things were. You couldn't feel most anything on your left arm or hand.
He asked about what you had tried on your own, your time with Dash, about your home. He asked about routines of the facility, and if there was anyone you could remember from there at all.
Each answer could have been short, but it was like your brain was slowly unpacking that dusty little box with every question, and, to your surprise, he listened attentively to everything.
At some point, your eyes began to droop, and you were pushed toward the bed, which you fell into easily enough. But then, feeling more raw and unraveled than before, you had reached out for him.
Future consequences be damned. Right now what you needed was something to ground you - a metal rod to guide lighting home, and the only thing that could work was him.
Sylus hesitated at first, asking if you were sure, only to finally lay beside you when you assured him it was what you wanted.
Legs intertwined and chest to chest, your muddling mind found his scent and warmth comforting - grounding - and you had slipped under not long after.
But now - now you were going to die of heatstroke.
"Sylus," you groaned, voice scratchy from sleep. "You're hot!"
His chest rumbled beneath you in a muffled chuckle. "Oh?"
"Not -mph - not like that!" Rolling over, you placed your hands flat on his chest and pushed, but his arm was like an iron restraint. "I mean physically!"
"Keep complementing me like that, kitten, and you might turn me into a morning person."
And then this man, in all the audacity, rolled partially on top of you, pinning you to the mattress.
"Keep going."
"Sylus get off!"
"No."
Trying to move him was the equivalent of trying to move a landslide. No matter which way you pushed or pulled - you were trapped. With an angry shove at his shoulder, words slipped from you without forethought. "You’re going to kill your hacker!"
A rumble shook his body and in a way it reminded you almost off a purr. "Mmm, I like that."
"Like that you’re going to squish me to death?"
"Mine."
The grip around you tightened, and your breath hitched. You blamed it on the biceps pressing in on your ribcage, but the truth was a quiet weight in your chest.
A glance at the clock informed that this nap had barely been two hours, which, you thought, would explain why he seemed more…open.
But even after everything - after being stripped bare and trusting this man with all that you had, your mind reminded you of your roles.
Employer.
Employee.
A year long contract.
And a ruse for information.
You had learned long ago that hope was not something worth having. And yet…
"You’re very odd when you are tired, you know that? We’re going to be late."
"And I told you we didn’t have to go."
"People will notice."
"I don’t care."
"But you cared enough at the market what people thought."
He stilled. Then a grunt, and you were released.
With a sigh, you threw off the blanket, only to curse and bury yourself again. You could hear muffled laughter, as an arm snaked quickly around you, pulling you close once more. Back to the original issue.
" When did it get so cold?"
"It didn’t. You’re just warmer now."
Warmer indeed - and, thanks to the arctic shockwave of the air conditioning, you found yourself warmer for an entirely different reason. The weight of his arms, his scent - trapped for so long under this blanket you had no doubt it would linger long on your skin, his breath tickling the fine hairs on the back of your neck.
Oh - you needed to free yourself before you did something incredibly stupid.
There was a noise of complaint as you moved again, but freeing yourself this time was much easier than before. Bracing yourself, you quickly jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom to change.
His arm dropped with a heavy thud once you ran, and he lay there, eyes closed, a smirk pulling up the corner of his lips at your whispered curses and sprinting feet.
He continued to lay there, even after the door slammed shut, and took a large, slow breath. The smirk fell, eyes opened, quickly adjusting to the dark. Fingers splayed over where you had been, soaking in the last of your heat as it escaped the sheets.
Energy pulsed within him - angry and coiled, at not getting what it wanted. What he truly wanted. The heel of his palm went to his right eye, pressing against it.
Sylus rarely wanted for anything. And if he did want it, he took it. But you were not merely a thing to be had - not that this damned core inside him knew the difference.
He was so sure that the two of you had finally moved passed labels. That last night had solidified the connection that was clearly strumming between the two of you.
Every instinct had screamed to keep you close - pull you to his side for him, at least, to get lost in your scent, in the shape of you, if nothing else. And yet, he had let you go.
Because he would not be another chain for you. Either you came freely, or he …figured out a way to tame this growing problem of his.
You slipped back out, outfit on, make up kit in hand, letting him know that the bathroom was free for use. Sylus had never been so thankful for a cold shower.
The brunch was hosted on one of the rooftop gardens, and Sylus found himself immediately regretting to agree to go at all. It was much too bright, even with the creeping ivy that covered the pergola over the tables so thickly it might as well have been a roof.
Those who still remained were milling about, having soft discussions and closing last minute deals - abandoned crumbs of meals left on scattered plates.
An absolute waste of his time. The only thing that kept him from spinning on his heel and making one call to ready the jet was the fact that your hand was laced with his, and you were weaving your way to a woman waving in your direction.
His eyes narrowed on her partner, who was ginning back at him like the Cheshire cat.
"I see Margaret has really taken you under her wing."
There was something in his tone, an edge to the statement that had you pausing and looking back at him; the sharpness more warning than comment.
"I thought you liked them?" you asked, confusion evident.
"If they are the reason that I am upright instead of getting a few more hours rest with you, then I no longer do."
With a roll of your eyes, you tugged him forward again. "Isn't part of my role as your date to force you to attend social activities? You can blame that and the fact that apparently your natural body temperature is a million degrees - which is the whole reason I woke up in the first place."
"Well, then next time," he said with a tug that had you stumbling back into him, giving the perfect excuse to steady you with his other hand, wrapping strategically around your middle and head bending forward so the breath of his next words tickled the shell of your ear, "we'll turn down the AC and use just a sheet. You won't be complaining then."
Your heart missed a beat, then thrummed much too fast as he let out a deep chuckle at how flustered you were. The large hand slid back, pushing you slightly forward once more.
"Don't keep your friend waiting."
Before you were able to sit, Margret's arm reached out to snatch yours out of Sylus', tugging you away. “Just going to borrow your girl for a bit! Hope you don’t mind!”
She didn't wait for an answer as you were tugged over to a table covered in pastries. “Showing up late, after Caesar's last speech, was bold. Not that you missed much - what with it being a mini advertisement for himself. What kept you?”
“A large man with a complex wouldn’t let me leave the bed.” It was out in a huff before you thought it through. Margaret’s face widened into a grin - a cat with a caught canary - only growing wider as you stumbled over your backtracking.
“No, hey - um - that’s not-“
But then her gaze changed to one you couldn’t fully interpret, eyes softening into almost pity. “Just a nod or a shake, lovelett. Are you…?”
Frantically you shook your head. She sighed, patting your cheek softly.
“I have been in your shoes. But you do understand the implications of being here with him?”
You nodded.
“You’ve feigned enough confidence this weekend on everything else; V is becoming a common letter on everyone’s lips. Don’t fumble now at the finish line, doll.”
She could see the panic take over, and huffed, distracting you by plucking an enormous muffin from a basket on the table and shoving it into your hand. “If anyone asks, say enough to confuse, not to clarify. You only have to make it another couple of hours. Now, eat your muffin.”
The two leaders sat quietly at the simply decorated table, watching their partners interact.
A snicker came from Ada as she watched Margaret shove a nearly comically large muffin into your hands.
"Margaret always has an eye for pretty things," she said with a sigh, dark eyes giving a quick glance to the man beside her.
Ada's name was barely intelligible with the growl it came out in. A warning. It only caused her to smile wickedly, turning fully toward him.
With a movement as fluid as water, she reached for her glass to take a sip. "So, when does your contract with V end?"
"Drop it."
"That soon, huh? Oh, don't look at me like that. All's fair in love and illegal dealings. Better give her a good reason to stay then, hmm?" She took a sip, eyes forward. "You're not the only one that gives their employees great benefits."
"Enough."
The conversation dropped as the two of you appeared back at the table, sitting beside your respective partners. Sylus' arm snaked along the back of your chair, and you leaned toward him instinctively.
Ada smiled at the movement, knowing that she had absolutely no chance of poaching you for herself. Still, there weren't many people who could ruffle the Onychinus leader's feathers without some sort of consequence, and she always did enjoy toeing that dangerous line.
She'd make a proper proposal still, just to irritate him a little more. Not here - Sylus clearly had had enough.
But she'd find the time again. She was sure of it.
When Sylus had enough of both the sun and people, which wasn't long after you sat down to enjoy the muffin, a quick text was sent and, when the reply came to, you were nearly dragged out of your chair.
Sylus was tired of sharing, and more than ready to go home.
Once flight altitude had been reached, and you had once more freed your ears from the unbearable pressure, cursing Sylus silently for seeming greatly unbothered it, the two of you properly settled in.
The cabin lights had been turned off and the windows covered, leaving only the glow of the red emergency exit lights down the main aisle to break up the darkness in some small way.
Beside you, Sylus was falling asleep, if his slowed breathing was anything to go by. After spitting out your gum, you found yourself following quickly, brain full of the rumble of the engine, eyes slipping shut and head lolling into his shoulder...
The sound of a vibration disturbed both of you, but, thinking it was something being handled, neither of you stirred.
Until it sounded again - and you realized it was in your bag.
As it started going off a third time, you pulled headphones free and connected the call, growling out a "What?"
You were picking up bad habits from someone.
"Where are you?"
"Can you not count? I said three days? This is day three."
"Which is why I'm calling you -"
"Two Bit. Three days. Call me tomorrow -"
"Nononono don't hang up - listen. Please. Where are you right now?"
"In a plane."
"For how long?"
"I don't know - long enough."
An exasperated sigh was loud in your ear. "Look, when you land - we've called a meeting. Gio's already announced there will be a next fight, just not when or with who. He's coming, too - said we agreed to this."
"We didn't agree to shit."
"I - look, you know he's going to hold over us how he helped us all out at the beginning."
"And we all paid our debts back twice over, especially with his betting he thinks we don't know about. We don't owe shit."
"I get you, and I agree. But he's coming anyway, and the group's here - so either you come today, or it's decided without you."
You rolled your neck on your shoulders, wincing at a loud pop. This was not something you needed right now. An extra complication when things were picking up elsewhere…"Fine. I'll text you when we land. Same place?"
"Always."
And then the call disconnected. You moved quietly to put everything back in its place, thankful for the cover of darkness when you jumped at another voice you weren't expecting to hear.
"Should the twins drop you off somewhere when we land?"
"I thought you were asleep."
"Even your whisper is loud in here, kitten."
You shifted back into your seat, working to get comfortable again. "Sorry."
A grunt was your reply. "Well?"
"Ah, no. I'll go after we get home."
"Should I be concerned?"
It surprised you that you didn't have an answer ready for that one. A crimson eye cracked open to look at your darkened form.
"I don't…know." If Gio got his way, this would be something that would disrupt your current job…
You found yourself twisting toward Sylus' seat, even though you couldn't see much outside his silhouette. "So…I may have not been totally honest with you about the underground fights."
"Oh? Is this when you tell me what a Gatekeeper is, exactly?"
The inside of your cheek hurt from where you bit it. "The fights weren't always the tiered structure they are now. The were just…random. Chaotic. Good when you're new and needing as many fights as you can get. Terrible if you good, and everyone wants to challenge you."
"And you were good, I assume?"
"Wasn't good. I was great…eventually. Didn't start that way, but I'm a quick learner, and stronger than most think. There were a handful of us doing crazy amounts of fights every week. We were tired, and if we were fighting…"
"You couldn't work."
"Exactly. So, we got together and proposed a tiered plan to Gio, the manager of it all. A proper tournament to allow for a fair ranking order. After that, a plan on how challenges would work. You wanted to be in the top four, you had to get through ten rounds undefeated, and then the Gatekeeper. From there, you worked your way up."
"And you were in the top four."
That pulled a smirk from you. "I am in the top four. No one has beaten Two Bit in a long while. And the last one that did couldn't make it past Java."
A hum of amusement greeted your ears. "Oh, and where do you fall on the last three spots?"
"You already know - you don't hire less than the best."
That pulled a proper chuckle out of him.
"No one wants to end up like Two Bit, but Gio isn't letting this fight go. That's what this meeting is about. And - before you ask, because I know you're about to say something snarky - we scrimmage with each other on a regular basis to stay sharp just in case."
"But this last battle has confidences shaken."
"…Yes. The kid should've been thrown out, but it's the N109 Zone. People crave blood."
"And, usually, they get what they want."
You weren't able to settle back down for the rest of the flight, as much as you wanted to - your mind was already running through potential situations for when you showed up for this meeting later. Knowing this group, there was already blackmail waiting in the wings, but the question is how much Gio would care.
From all of your years in the circuit, you knew that it tended to be not much. Some people were willing to sell even their dignity to the highest bidder. Gio was your first proof of that.
Sylus, however, seemed to have no issue falling back asleep. You assumed he was used to this type of thing, with how often he was going different places. He was not, however, pleased when you woke him up again - even if it was because the plane had landed.
Luke and Kieran were thrilled to see you again, although they kept asking thinly veiled questions as they drove you back home that caused the two of you to raise eyebrows.
It was put to a stop after Luke's fairly blunt, "Are you sure there's nothing that happened in the hotel room after you last call?"
With a slow blink, and you too tired for a witty comeback, Sylus ended the barrage of questions with a simple, but stern, "Enough."
Mephisto flew straight to you once you made it inside the doors of Onychinus, causing Sylus to scoff, unamused.
But when you froze, gaze distant, the realization that Mephisto was using you as a communication device, and not because you had somehow managed to outrank him, became clear.
It was pitiful even to Sylus that this gave him a smug satisfaction.
"Mephie says there was nothing unusual to report, although you had a couple people mad that you missed scheduled meetings, and they gave the twins a hard time."
Blinking yourself back, you stared at him. "You're usually not that careless with meetings."
The white haired man just shrugged at you before turning to continue further into the base. "They weren't as important as what we were doing."
"Okay, but you could have at least rescheduled?"
"Are you telling me how to do my job?" There was a teasing lilt to his tone, but you met the challenge as Mephisto came to rest his head on top of yours, watching the conversation.
"A little, yeah," you said with a grin.
And before a response could be had, you were already heading up the stairs toward your own room.
Your belly warmed at the laugh that chased after you.
Shedding the designer layers to slip back into the comfort of your well worn apparel was almost a relief. It relaxed you - forced you back to the real world and the expectations that came with it. The auction was done. You could stop playing pretend. Get back to your job.
Although you weren't exactly sure why your chest seemed to ache as you closed your closet door.
It was probably nothing. Something left over from the exhaustion of the trip.
Slipping out was easy enough now that the chaos of the base surrounded you once more. The twins and Mephisto were already busy with orders and you, well, you had a meeting.
There was no thought to a dark bike leaving the garage and racing down the road away from safety.
The normal meeting place was a slowly dilapidating arena, one abandoned many years ago of a newer model with a better electrical grid that ran through the flooring and more seating. The building also now produced a protective electrical shield, designed by Hash but installed by you, to allow for fighters to go all out without fear of injuring patrons.
Scrum had bought the old one for pennies with winnings, fixing it up just enough where the five of you could meet and practice without arousing suspicion.
The first floor of the parking garage had been cleared out enough for a handful of vehicles, which your bike glided into easily enough, parking between Hash's 1967 Chevy Impala, although how much of it outside of the metal frame was from then was now debatable, and Two Bit's 1963 refurbished Aston Martin.
A quick wave over the thumbprint scanner and you were in the door, climbing the back stairwell that led to the smattering of offices at the very top of the building that overlooked the fighting arena below.
Four pairs of eyes jumped to you as you opened the door, only to go back to each other once you slipped inside and slid to an open spot by Scrum on the scuffed leather couch.
"I take it Gio is fashionably late?"
"The fact that you managed to beat him here is…concerning."
With a shrug, you turned toward Scrum, who had their laptop open on their lap and was scrolling through what seemed to be various fox images.
As you opened your mouth to question, the door to the office slammed open once more and in walked the rotund man himself, black hair slicked back into a greasy ponytail, beady eyes taking in each one of them as his lips curled up into a smirk.
"Good. Seems we're all here."
He stepped further in, arms wide to take up the little space that was left.
"We have a fight planned in two weeks -"
"It's not happening," Two Bit cut in, shaking his hand. "We've told you this."
"Ah, ah," the wide man tutted, stepping closer to the larger fighter. "We have a deal. Newbies do ten rounds and go for you. Should they win, and he did, he starts going up the ranks."
"He almost killed me!"
"Then you should've been better -"
Two Bit had figured out control of his prosthetic arm faster than most people would - a benefit of electricity thrumming under your skin at all times. This meant that he was more than capable of grabbing around Gio's rather large neck and forcing him into the wall.
The next part came out as a growl. "The rule is break the robot or yield the wielder. He came after me when the fight was over. That," he slammed him again, "is why no one wants to fight him."
But all the manager did was smirk, even went as far as choking out a laugh. "You're old news, boy. No one cares what you think. Besides, ads are out - gunna have another fight. Next up is Java, and depending how that goes -"
"Fuck no," the older woman said, cutting him off. "I'm not going up against a homicidal punk ass kid!"
"You don't have a choice."
She stepped up next to Two Bit, black boots putting her taller than both men. "There is always a choice," she spat back before your attention turned away.
Scrum, the quietest of the group, had changed their screen once more - now showing a list of financial records from the bank. Based on the amount of red, someone was in deep shit.
You leaned slightly closer. Gio, it seemed, was in deep shit. But a name caught your eye.
"Wait - can you scroll back up?"
XAN SCI LD -$7513.25
A heavy realization slid into your gut the same time fear crept up your spine.
Right there. He's been right there - "Hey, Scrum?"
"Hmm?"
"Why were you looking at foxes earlier?"
"Ah. The new kid - his name. I was trying to find more about him, but there's nothing. All I get is foxes - the name he chose means it in some dead language."
Your tongue darted out and licked your lips, nodding more to yourself than anyone else.
Right fucking there this whole time.
Laughing at you. Mocking you.
Thirteen?
Fists clenched so hard your nails left crescent moons in your palm.
"Can you do me a solid and pull him up again? Vulpis?"
With an arched eyebrow, they did as you asked, tilting the device toward you.
There he stood, the clothes of the fight fitting him better than the poorly tailored suit you had met him in. Something dark twisted in your gut, sending fire through your veins.
"I'll fight him."
It wasn't heard over the din, which had grown into a fairly loud roar of now four voices, so you said again - louder, clearer, angrier.
"I'll fight the kid."
Heads turned toward you, a mix of anger and disgust.
"Like hell you are! We agreed -"
"I know what we agreed, Hash! Very fucking aware he should've been kicked for his stunt with Two Bit. But Gio ain't backin' down, and no one wants to get hurt. One fight is scheduled, it just wasn't announce who. I'll fight. Just me.
"And," your gaze shifted to the man still pinned to the wall. "If I win, he's gone. No restarts, no hacker specials. Gone. Out of the Zone."
But the snake only smiled back. "And when you lose?"
"Well, then you can have all the fights you want, can't you?"
The yelling continued for a good long while after your announcement. Some of it was at Gio, but most of it was at you. A mixture of anger from the sudden betrayal and fear from your stupidity.
You took all of it, much too tired to explain. Too much to try and explain, even if you did have the energy. But all you really wanted to do was sleep. It had been an extremely long day, and you could feel the beginnings of a headache forming behind your eye.
On your way back home, however, you swung by your old place, slipped into your apartment, and pulled free a large duffel from the back of your closet. The items were bulky, shifting awkwardly against your back as you made the drive to Onychinus, but the familiar weight was a comfort after the stress of the last few days.
You didn't remember the last time you wore this gear, but you knew this. It would need a proper upgrade before you were back in the arena. And luckily, for you, your boss had the best tools on the market.
You settled into Sylus' workshop easy enough, using the clamps to angle one of your boots toward you, as you climbed onto the large seat, sleep all but forgotten as you mind reeled with ideas to upgrade your equipment before the fight. Carefully, with a flathead, you pried up the metal plate and mess of copper wires out from the carved area in the sole.
The piece was old and needed some proper cleaning. Besides, you had an idea of connecting a few more pieces into the toe and heel for stronger connection.
Carefully you began the process of unwinding the copper wire, quickly becoming lost the familiarity of the work. The monotony allowed your mind to properly process everything from just today. A thought snagged your attention, carving a frown in your face.
You were going to have to tell Sylus. It was going to interrupt the work flow, and you'd be losing some days to make sure you were up to snuff before the fight itself, and the sinking feeling in your gut told you he would not be pleased.
Maybe you could find a way to bring it up casually. Maybe relaxing with a record and after he's had a glass of wine - something that could help ebb his anger toward your decision.
"I'm surprised to find you here," the deep baritone voice echoed through the room, causing you to jump just slightly from surprise, "instead of upstairs combing through the data files."
"It'll be a while yet before I can start filtering."
Sylus leaned against the doorframe with an ease that did not fit someone so large, arms crossing at his chest and feet at the ankles. "That's why I went ahead and adjusted your code for you. I changed the focus to pull what is needed now, and then quietly steal anything else it can get it before it runs into any…issues."
With deliberate control you sat down the tools in your hands, voice growling, "You did what to my code?"
"Fixed it," he said again, unbothered by your attitude.
Your fists clenched, skin pulling taunt over knuckles, and then released. A breath, and the tools were in your hands again. "Sometimes I hate you."
But that only earned you a chuckle. "Fair's fair - you did upgrade my bird behind my back."
"Mephisto asked, that's not the same, and you know it."
His head tilted, white fringe falling with the movement. "Is that for the fight?"
You froze, spine stiffening. How in the hell did he already -
"I got an interesting call earlier, from our friend, Mr. Caesar. He wanted me to know that he had brought the demonstration I asked for to my front door in the form of a fight. His Element against the N109's champion robotics fighter."
Fear spiked goosebumps over your skin at how his tone deepened - darkened. "I thought the meeting was to prevent it from happening."
The silence rang heavy in your ears as your worked on how to respond. But, as it seemed to do often, now, the truth tumbled forward out of your lips…ungracefully and raw.
"Sylus - I need this win. Because between figuring out this Caesar / EVER stuff, and trying to figure out what has been going on between us, and finding a balance between everything I've done before and working here -"
"Between us?"
"I haven't been giving my full attention to things. I'm smarter than this - and yet I've missed every obvious clue. And if this cretin thinks he's going to waltz into my territory and play fucking games, then it's up to me put him back in his place.
"I…I know that it's selfish of me to do this. Selfish to focus on this petty battle when we have been fighting a war, but I need this. I need to know I haven't fully lost myself."
Sylus didn't move. Didn't make a sound. Just watched the muscles in your back tighten so hard they shoved your shoulders up toward your ears. Watched as your eyes narrowed on your work before frustratingly throwing the tools to the bench and digging the heels of your hands into your eyes.
And as much as he wanted to go to you, he waited. Silent. Patient.
Knowing that the storm you were wrestling with needed to crash before it could dissipate.
"I am tired, Sylus. Tired of running. Tired of being afraid and always looking over my shoulder. I want them dead. I want them gone."
"Then we destroy them."
A choked scoff met his ears.
"I'm not stupid - this is just one tiny part of a monster. This is bigger than one fight. Even if we stop Caesar, there will be more."
"Then we burn it all down. Slowly. One piece at a time until we can gut the heart out of its chest."
Your head shook as you finally dropped your hands. "You say that like it's possible."
His footsteps were slow, deliberate as he approached you from behind. His hand reached out tentatively, flexed, and dropped to the back of the chair instead, forcing it to spin toward him just so. "Sweetie, you're not hearing me. I would burn the world down if it meant you could finally feel free."
It was hard to meet his gaze with heavy words such as those. Harder to maintain when you could clearly see the truth within them.
And then you ruined it - a yawn slipping free.
"You need rest," he stated, standing up to slip thumbs into his pocket. A picture of nonchalance. "It's been a long weekend for the both of us. Go to bed."
With a shake of your head, you spun back around. There was too much to do - "Hey!"
A familiar mist had slipped the tools from your grasp, holding them high overhead. "Whatever this is can be done tomorrow with a fresh mind. What…are you doing, exactly?"
"Upgrades," you grumbled, practically rolling off the tall chair to the floor. You cleaned up your workspace, placing the jumble of wires, metal, and sole back into your bag and shoving it under the desk.
Sylus waited, refusing to leave until a stubborn kitten actually left the room first. He knew too well that if he stepped out first, he would find you back down here when he awoke tomorrow.
With a brief goodnight, you parted at the stairwell, climbing the rest of the way to your room alone.
You couldn't settle. Your brain was too full of everything - too full of the causal touches from the weekend. Too full of your upcoming fight. Too full of being so caught up in everything you had missed Fox Face being right in front of you.
Not just right in front of you, either, but actively tracking you.
You, who had gotten too relaxed here. Gotten comfortable in the safeness this mansion had brought you. Comfortable in being seen with the twins - with him.
For the upteenth time you rolled over with a heavy sigh.
Gods, you were exhausted, and still sleep would not come. When your thoughts would settle in one area, they reared up in another - the sheets were too scratchy (they weren't). The room was too cold (nothing extra layers wouldn't fix). The bed felt too big (debatable).
No, the truth of it all was much quieter, and one you were still nervous to admit to yourself.
The truth was that, even amid the chaos, the best sleep you had gotten, even in broken hours, were laying next to someone. It was still a new feeling you weren't used to - trust. Trusting someone at your most vulnerable.
Another fluff of your pillow, another twist in the sheets, and you were groaning in frustration. You needed sleep.
An idea slipped in like a whisper.
Just…one more night. He wouldn't mind, right? If you just…joined him. In his bed. For sleep.
That wasn't a weird thing to do now, right? Not after these last few days?
I like the sound of that. Mine.
Before you could talk yourself out of it, desperate for a few hours of proper sleep, you freed yourself from the tangle of blankets and slid out your bedroom door, down the hall and the stairs as quiet as a shadow.
The knock was almost comical on how gentle it was, as if you were hoping for no response, but what you received in return was a grunt, and a raspy, "What?"
With a twist of the door handle, you opened it only enough to slip inside before closing it again. A burning coal watched your movements from a sea of silk, tired, but curious as to why you have come to him at this hour.
Without a word, you came to the side of the bed, pulling the sheets up enough to slip under them.
"I can't sleep," you whispered, as if anything louder would break the spell over the room.
Sylus adjusted instantly, pushing up on his forearm so that he could throw the heavier blanket off as you slid closer to him. When you were within arms length, he wrapped his arm around your waist, and pulled you even closer before settling back down on his stomach.
Instinctively, you curled into his side, a sigh of contentment slipping free from the weight of his arm, the heat of him surrounding you.
"Using a monster to scare off your nightmares?" he teased tiredly, hand gently squeezing you close.
"No," you responded, the next words strangled by a yawn. "You're not a monster. A protector - like a dragon."
You were too tired to notice his arm stiffen around you, or the way his breath caught in his throat. You didn't even seem to think twice how his chuckle was strained and not just tired. "You've been reading again," he said, willing his muscles to relax.
His nose pressed into the crown of your head, taking a deep breath of your scent to settle him. "Have you forgotten what happens to dragons when the princes find them? They are no more than an obstacle to be slain."
"People are stupid," was your reply, sleep finally starting to pull you under, now that you felt safe. "I'll stick with the dragon."
A knot too large to swallow was stuck in his throat at your words. A response came to him, but your soft breaths told him that you were already past being able to hear it. Instead he adjusted, letting his lips just briefly pass over the crown of your head as he settled into his new role around you.
Protector. Not a monster.
He liked the sound of that.
When you woke, it was alone. At some point you had tucked yourself around one of his pillows, and the heavier blanket had been placed over you once more.
It was a struggle, being surrounded by comfort and warmth, to convince yourself to get up, but you found fully waking easier than expected. You had slept. Soundly. Feeling properly rested for the first time in you don't remember how long.
You felt…good. Well, until you saw the time and how late you slept.
Sure, you didn't have a set schedule, but you did have a routine, and plenty to do that sleeping three hours past your normal wake up was enough to make you panic, flying out of Sylus' room, up the stairs, and into your own to change quickly.
First came security. You hadn't checked in properly since being back, let alone checked what you had Luke set up for you (and Sylus apparently updated) but that had to be priority one. And when your brain turned to mush from the files, you could go downstairs and work on the plates for your boots.
The door to the security room was rarely closed anymore, so you didn't think twice as you ran through the opening.
As you bent double to breathe, his chuckle filled your ears. Of course he was in here, waiting for you.
"Look who finally decided to join us."
"You didn't wake me up," you said with a huff, sending a halfhearted glare your way.
You left me alone.
The smile he gave you was soft, just on the side apologetic. "I received a call that required answering, and you needed the sleep. I figured it was better to take it elsewhere."
I didn't want to.
Your mouth formed an 'o', and you found yourself biting back your prepared quip. You knew better than to ask about the call - if he did not willingly provide details, it wasn't something you needed to worry about. And you had enough as is.
"Did you need something?"
He nodded, once more messing with the stress ball you kept on your desk."We're starting a new regiment - today."
"Today?"
"Get dressed."
"Sylus, this is what I need to do first -"
"No, what you need to do is learn to defend yourself in a dirty fight. And learn how to hit back." He stood, tossing the ball to you as he made his way to the door. "Besides, it's good to start the day with exercise. It'll fully wake you up."
He waited until he was far enough around the corner that you wouldn't be able to hear them.
"Luke. Kieran."
They were there nearly instantaneously, having been lurking in the shadows of the hall.
"Go get changed - you're sparring her today."
Kieran let out a small whoop until he heard the next part.
"Don't hold back - fight dirty. Use your Evol to get ahead of her."
"But boss -"
"She needs to learn how to adjust on a dime, and the two of you can help get her there."
"Isn't that throwing her into the fire a little?" Luke said, glancing between his twin and his boss.
Sylus nodded. "The only way to forge steel is to temper it with heat," he was already moving past them, pulling out his buzzing phone. "Five minutes."
Dual "Yes, boss!" was heard, and then, as silent as they had appeared, they were gone again.
The next hour of your life was grueling. While you were used to the twins normal antics, you had never fought them one on one before, and they were tricky. Hell - not just tricky, damn near impossible.
They used a combination of speed and each other to move - so used to having to read people, it only took one of them seeing a slight shift in your demeanor for them to block and nail you with a hit.
Another round left you on the floor, breathless and frustrated. You had better ways to spend your time, you thought, but Sylus wasn't letting you leave until you got a proper hit on one of them.
The last two had just been lucky.
Luke leaned over your head, while his brother leaned on the ropes, both heads cocked at you.
"I mean...you could always just...shoot them," Luke said. "The whole point is that it's an unfair fight, right? Bullet would even that out."
"Not helpful," you huffed, still trying to catch your breath.
"Oh. Right - because you still can't sh-"
Your glare was enough to freeze the word in his mouth, but Sylus was already turning, curious at the end of that statement.
"She can't what?"
"She can't aim for shit," Kieran covered quickly.
Carmine eyes glanced between you and them, a brow raising in distrust. "Regardless of your 'aim'," he said with a clear tone before addressing the twins, "They do check for actual weapons before the fighters enter. Teaching her how to fight dirty is the best we can do."
You made a point to stare directly at the bright lights in the ceiling as three pairs of eyes stared at you from different angles.
Kieran was the one to brake the silence. "You gotta use your Evol, V. You haven't used it against us at all. It would give your punches additional power."
"Yeah, but the problem is I can't. Like…legitimately. I run a current too long through my body, my muscles will spasm, and I'm fucked."
"Then stop directing it through you," Sylus said, turning and, based on the sound, moving furniture around the room.
Your brows furrowed, equal parts frustration and confusion of the sounds you were hearing. "Okay, smarty pants, and how do you propose I do that?"
"Take it from one thing, and put it in another."
You blinked. Slowly. You mouth opened in a snarky retort, and then closed as the realization slipped into your mind.
His lips quirked the moment he noticed it.
You sat up quickly, eyes locking on your boss."You want me to make lightening."
"In a sense." Sylus' attention was back on the furniture, his evol dragging over smaller devices and lamps toward the ring. "Electricity is straight forward - it needs a place to land. We capture this in circuits to power devices."
You knew this - but the bobbing heads of the twins told you who this was really for.
"You access things because you add yourself to the circuit. You force the electricity to go through you to close the loop, which drags you into the natural flow of what you're trying to access. In essence, you briefly become a part of it.
"It's also why it tires you. You're unintentionally losing a bit of yourself in the flow, and with that, control. This is what we need to change. Instead of adding you to the circuit, you're going to break it. Take from it and then force it to ground somewhere else."
Sylus then moved a training dummy into the ring, and Luke hopped out next to his brother. "You did this in the hotel. With the bug. You may not have realized it at the time, but being it was in front of my face, I was able to see it. When you reached for it, you released enough to short it."
You stared down at your gloved hands, replaying the moment in your head. Was that what you did? You were half asleep and panicked about being too late. There was no time to think; you reacted with what felt natural.
"Redirect it, don't take it. Though, that may be another skill worth working on later."
Easier said than done, was the next immediate thought you had.
The thing about electricity, that most did not understand, was that it was a wild, living thing. It wants a place to land - wants the fastest way to get there, too, which maybe a different path than the human asked to wield it think it might be.
Circuits were safe - the electricity flowed in a predictable pattern. Slipping in and out of that pattern was like slipping in and out of traffic. Easy enough anyone could do it, and more experienced drivers could do it quickly.
But when you leave traffic, it still continues down the paved road.
You were essentially being asked to move the road to redirect the traffic.
With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, and flexed your Evol, just feeling. In your mind's eye, you marked every distinct flow within the room so that when you opened them again it would all overlay.
The lights above. The security system. The sound system - speakers in the corners of the ceiling and the main unit that had now been moved to your right side on the floor just beyond the ring. A tall lamp now beside it.
That is the one you chose to focus on.
Just…break a circuit. And don't let the flow stop. Yeah, totally not complicated. You could do this.
Raising your hand, you reached outward, snagging the flow in the lamp closest to you. The bulb dimmed, crackled as you pulled on the current toward the dummy.
Electricity hummed, jumped, and sputtered - sending sparks everywhere.
Yeah. Totally not complicated.
The next week became a strict timetable. You started the day with rounds with the twins. After a shower, would work tirelessly on combing through files for anything useful. Get frustrated and go down to the workshop to enhance your gear. And then Sylus would pull you again to specifically work on your evol. Somewhere in there you would eat, and then you would crash hard for a few hours.
The calendar ticked closer and closer to the date of the match, which only increased your frustration as you struggled with the concept of using your evol as a weapon and not just a tool for hacking.
With a deep breath, you held out your hand to try again. This time, when the lamp dimmed, there was a clear pull of white-blue electricity, but it sputtered out halfway to the dummy. Dropping your hand, you groaned in frustration.
"You're thinking too much."
"Oh, I'm sorry - should I just let the electricity run wild?"
A quick flick to the forehead had you wincing. "Using your evol should feel natural, not strenuous. The more you think, the harder it's going to be."
"Then what exactly is the point of trying?" The narrowing of crimson eyes had you turning your snark back to the lamp.
You felt him before your brain had comprehended the sound of his steps. He was dangerously close to you - back against his chest, legs bracketing yours.
"Currents have a natural flow to them," he said, softly, as he lifted your arm, trailing his fingertips down it until his aligned with yours. "Stop fighting to contain it. You are a guide. Show it where to go; let it figure out the easiest way itself."
Red and black mist danced around your arms, the light touch almost tickling as it slipped down toward your open palms.
He redirected your hand toward the lamp again. A sigh of determination slipped through your nose, although your heart rate had skyrocketed not from the task at hand, but the method of teaching.
You nearly jumped out of your skin when he spoke next, voice low and quiet, breath dancing off the shell of your ear.
"Breathe, sweetie."
It wasn't for lack of trying - your lungs just weren't cooperating. You managed it, one shaky breath in and out.
Another deep breath allowed you to refocus; push clear enough to see, although now you did it within a blink compared to before. Fingers twitched lightly, snagging the current and causing the light to dim, and then you moved quickly - as the current raced toward you, you threw your hand, and Sylus' along with it, toward the dummy instead.
It landed with a small clap of thunder, but instead of celebrating, you flinched, twisting away.
A large hand settled on your stomach, anchoring you in place - anchoring you to him. "Easy. I got you."
The other hand that cupped your outstretched one gripped a little tighter, thumb rubbing up the bone of your own.
"That was good. Again."
And you did - with his guidance, his support, you nailed the training dummy again. The wince was still present. You didn't think it would go quickly - fear of the sound still sat deep in the marrow of your bones.
The training dummy only had slight markings, compared to the sound it produced, and, as much as you understood why you were being trained, hoped this was something that you didn't actually have to use.
Each successful attempt, Sylus moved back just a little more, putting the power back in your hands without you fully realizing that he had done so.
Slowly, after a few more days, the electricity stopped bending toward you first, and directly moved from one object to the other. A full hand movement wasn't needed, but, mentally, it helped.
And once you could do it multiple times in a row without issue, the expectation changed to fighting the twins again.
"I want you to pin them," Sylus told you, strapping your gloves on your hands. "You don't have to use your ability to do the pin, but you should use it during the fight. Getting shocked is enough to throw someone off their game. Seize your opportunities when they present themselves."
You gave a nod, but your gut was churning. What if you hit them with too much? What if it wasn't enough? Gods above and below, what if you did something to permanently injure -
A flick to your forehead brought you back, and you hissed in pain.
"Stop overthinking. Lean into what feels natural."
Climbing into the ring, you made note of the flows of electricity around you. Everything had been put back in place. If you were going to pull, you were going to need to do so from farther than you normally practiced. Luckily, you knew this room like the back of your hand.
Kieran was up first this time. Both of you settled into a starting stance, waiting for Sylus' start.
And then you were both moving. Circling. Watching.
He moved first, throwing a jab that you dodged, but he blocked your rebound to his stomach. You watched for an opening, getting in a few clean hits, working to keep him in areas that didn't overlay too much with your eye. It became a blind spot, one you couldn't afford to have.
That was the pattern for over a minute. Quick series of jabs and punches from each of you, cleanly blocked by the other.
Then you saw it - the tiniest tell as green eyes jumped just past your shoulder, checking in with his brother for something previously communicated.
Now. The speaker was the closest. You pulled hard, hiding the motion behind a poorly aimed hook - one that had the twins grinning and your boss tsking. But you had a plan.
Lately, you hadn't been focused on the files you've received. You've been doing something else - studying anatomy in a way people would think you were switching career paths. There was a muscle near the rotator cuff, the subscapularis, that, if you could get enough electricity through to it, should cause the arm to spasm, giving you a second or two of advantage.
The problem was, you still struggled with figuring out how much was the right balance. You didn't really feel it when you interacted with electricity. Your nerves lit with almost a ticklish feeling - just enough to know that you were interacting with it.
Everyone else (and by everyone you meant the two brothers who really thought they could touch the live line while you were practicing without consequence) found even the smallest wattage to be extremely painful.
So, at least here, less was more. Less was easier to control, too, which is why a lazy hook, easily blocked with a scoff, allowed you to pull and land it into his shoulder.
Kieran's arm immediately dropped.
As he blinked, you swallowed back your fear that you had done permeate damage, you rushed him - grabbing him around the middle, knocking his left leg farther forward and using the momentum to push him backwards onto the mat.
He stilled - eyes blinking at the ceiling in confusion. The other two men did as well.
It counted. Here, being able to bring either of them down to the mat fully counted.
No one moved; no one breathed.
You moved first, already ripping the velcro of your glove free with your teeth and checking his arm. "I didn't hurt you, did I? How's your arm? Can you feel it? Wiggle your fingers."
"I'm fine, V - look, see? Moving fine."
Kieran wiggled his fingers for you, but he was still holding his arm with his left hand. "Whole thing's numb, though, shit. How did you do that?"
"Don't answer that," your boss responded from the ropes. "And you, switch out with your brother while you wait for feeling to come back.
Sylus waved you over to help re-secure your gloves. "Once is a fluke, twice is the start of a pattern. Do it again."
That was as much as a complement as you were going to get.
Luke was mumbling under his breath that his own arm was still feeling effects from what you did to Kieran, but you knew it was more residual that actual. He would still be able to move better, even if it was tingling.
You still waited though, waited for Luke to drop low before you followed suit. It didn't do you any good to practice with someone already down a limb.
Again, when given the go ahead, you started circling again. Pacing, throwing and blocking in equal rhythm with each other. Luke's green eyes stayed locked on you, but he was adjusting by an unseen voice. You realized this when it dawned on you that your back was currently closest to the speakers that lined the wall.
Neither twin would let you do the same move twice.
They were also getting better about hiding in your blind spots, which frustrated you. It forced you to move awkwardly to keep him better in sight.
You weren't going to be able to feign a punch this time. Bright specks sat on a table just outside of the ring, to Luke's right.
Everyone's phones. You hadn't thought twice about it, all of you used to leaving them there during a normal workout.
Well…bye bye battery. This shock should be even more minimal than your first, so it had to be placed well. You wouldn't be able to feign another hook, but he had just opened himself up for a kick. You twisted, pulling your left leg around hard, and he barely had times to get his arms up.
Luke caught your foot, which you were expecting. What he hadn't noticed, however, was that the kick was a perfect arc near the phones, allowing you to pull and redirect flow into the back of his knee.
Matching "Oh, fuck!"s were heard as his knee gave instantly, which gave you the height advantage you needed to flip him on his back and pin him to the floor.
When you looked up for acknowledgement of successfully getting through a dirty fight twice, you noticed Sylus' smirking face was looking down to the side of him.
Kieran's hands were hanging onto the lower rope, and you could only see those and the top of his red hair. Slowly he pulled himself back to standing. "What did you hit?"
Rolling off of Luke, you pointed to the back of your own knee. "There's a little fluid sac back there that if you hit causes your knee to instantly buckle. I just…didn't realize it would cause yours to as well," you finished sheepishly.
"Stop telling them how you're doing things," Sylus drawled, attention back on you. "You'll lose being able to use it against them again in the future." He looked toward Kieran, but nodded his head toward you.
"You're up."
"Uh…actually boss, my arm's still kinda…tingly."
"Maybe we should take a break?" Luke piped up from the mat. "Or, you could spar -" His face paled with the look he received behind your back, "Or…we could continue this again in a few minutes? When the tingles stop?"
So that's what you did - you'd go until the twins could no longer feel a limb, and then took a break. It wasn't consistent - the rounds or the breaks, depending how things went. You still found yourself on your back or incapacitated in some way more often than you would like, but you won at least half the time.
Not that your boss liked those numbers. While, for you, at least, it had been a fairly successful practice session, to him it was a sign you were rushing into something headfirst that you weren't ready for.
And yet, you persisted, because truthfully, that was all you could do.
In a future session, he even had you scrimmage in your typical gear. You were ready to fight him on this, but he brought up a solid point - when was the last time you wore it? Could you remember the feeling of the weight of it all?
It was harder than you thought, especially with your boots. And you also found out that the jacket you normally wore to hide your frame significantly hindered your movements - now much too tight in the shoulders, so that, sadly, also had to go.
Your shape had started changing over the months of you training with Sylus. You hadn't realized how much until now, when something from years ago no longer fit. And why should it? You were no longer that person, either.
As the countdown became just days on the calendar, you found yourself thoroughly focused on one thing, and one thing only. So much so, that you found yourself surprised that Sylus had once more taken up residency in your chair in the security room.
"What are you doing here?"
It was a silly question for the man who owned the building and led the biggest crime syndicate, and yet, it still felt odd to see him in this room.
"Oh, just spending time time sifting through the stolen files of our new Ever entrepreneur."
"I - you -" You lifted your hands and rubbed them down your face. You were slipping - since when were you this disorganized? "I'm sorry. I haven't been focused."
"I don't understand why you're apologizing. You have been focused on being prepared for this upcoming fight, which is to be expected. So I have picked up where you've needed help. You weren't hired to take on every burden, kitten. You do me no good burnt out."
Something inside of you knew, deep down, that he was right. And that something untwisted just a little from receiving any type of help. But your nose still scrunched in distaste, for you had gone too long only trusting yourself.
And to admit you needed help felt too much like defeat for you to find gratitude on your lips.
"I've already found the bank accounts of those that did agree to…support Caesar's latest project," venom coated his words. "The next will be just connecting them to who. After that - well, I may be acquiring quite a few new companies."
You opened your mouth to let him know that you already had a fairly extensive list of bank accounts, but he cut you off before the first sound left your mouth.
Because he already found that list. And was running a check now.
And for whatever reason, that seemed to snap something fraying inside of you. It wasn't that he had crossed a line, really. You worked for the man. Technically he could do this.
But that was the problem. He could do this. On his own. Again.
He didn't need you.
His laugh as he let out an "ouch" from where you punched him in the shoulder only served to make you angrier. "What was that for?"
"We're sparring," was all you said, before turning on your heel and going back out the door.
"Sparring? But you don't like sparring with me because, what was it you said?" his voice changed pitch as it followed you down the hall. "Oh yes, 'You're like a level 99 boss against a newbie player.' "
"Now, Sylus!"
Not used to being ordered around, he remained seated, gray brow jumping at the open doorway. Curiosity, however, eventually got the better of him. Sylus wasn't sure he had ever seen you worked up like this before - at least not at him. He wasn't quite sure what he had done, but he was curious how you would fair against him now with the new style of training.
With a sigh, he set down the tablet he had been holding, checking the program was still running. With the information you already had, it was over halfway completed.
That's fine - he had time to kill, anyway.
Let's see what an angry kitten could do.
You were nearly done wrapping your wrists when he finally joined you in the gym. You spoke before he said anything. "I'm making this a wager. Winner is three taps - like before. But no Evols."
"A wager? Need I remind you how the last one worked out for you?" Sylus said with a chuckle, watching you pull your gloves on with your teeth.
"Yes, well - I have a couple more months under my belt now. I bet I can land three hits this time."
"Whatever you say, sweetie," the grin on his face only schooled your resolve. "And what will you get if you succeed?"
"You have to answer my question." You raised a gloved hand at him as he opened his mouth. "No, listen. You have to actually answer my question. No dodging or prettying up words to get around it. A straight answer."
The grin softened. "Alright - and if I win I get a favor from you of my choosing."
You blinked. "I work for you - how is that a beneficial?"
Sylus shrugged. "Guess you'll find out when I ask of it."
"Ooh - so confident you're going to win?"
"I never take deals if I'm on the losing side, sweetie." He held out his own glove for you to tap. "Let's see what you got."
It turned out you were a much better student than Sylus gave you credit for. Not only had you managed to hone in the basic techniques, but you were able to start applying your natural abilities with them. While the white haired man used his strength and height, you used your speed. At first, Sylus thought you were dodging due to lack of confidence, but then when you managed to a double hit, he realized what you were doing.
So he upped his own attacks, managing to land two of his own. It was sheer luck (you told yourself) that you managed to slip back a step to evade a punch and ended up with the perfect opportunity to test the newest skill you had learned on your mentor. And before Sylus had a chance to fully recover from his own swing, you swiped his foot and forced him to the mat.
An umph of surprise escaped from the man before you gently tapped his cheek with your glove for good measure, grinning when you said, "Three."
"Well done," Sylus praised through a lopsided grin, but then he moved, flipping you and pinning you beneath him. "Although anything outside of zero would have marked improvement."
You huffed and, not one to let your victory be temporary, put another lesson into practice. Bucking your hips upward to force the larger man off balance, you wrapped your arm around his right one, tucked your leg, and forced him down to the side of you, the momentum rolling you on top of him.
It was awkward with the gloves, but you smiled down anyway - bopping his stomach with a glove. "A victory is still a victory."
His laugh vibrated through his whole body, making you acutely aware that you were currently straddling his waist with your last escape. Heat pulled in your belly, and you refused to acknowledge it, forcing your thoughts instead on removing your gloves - something to keep your eyes away from the pair studying you.
Gloves grabbed your hips, startling you from your inner thoughts, and you realized Sylus was holding you steady while he adjusted under you. Your following heartbeats were almost painful as he settled back. "Your prize, miss?"
Rolling your eyes at the formality, you dropped your glove to the side, quickly pulling off the other. Then you held up an open palm, waiting for Sylus to hand you his so that you could help pull it off. It was the least you could do…in this position.
"I want to know why you hired me."
There was a scoff as you worked the strap free. "That hardly needed a bet, kitten. I hired you because you were the best."
Your pointed look made it clear that was not a satisfactory answer, which only received a raised eyebrow in return. "Was I wrong? Should I start my hunt again?"
Pulling the glove free a little too hard, you glared back. "It would be extremely hard to find anyone better than me." That earned you a laugh - a full one with a smile. Sylus gave you his other gloved hand. "But that's not what I meant. You don't actually need me, do you?"
In this lighting, his eyes reminded you of rose petals, and they studied your face closely as you freed his hand.
"No, in a technical sense. I don't." He moved the hand freed to behind his head, and rested the other on your thigh. "But, as you have previously mentioned, I tend to hire people for things I don't want to do myself. And due to previous choices, I needed to decide where to save time, as it were."
Curiosity got the better of you. "What happened?"
"That's a second question, sweetie."
"Consider it a sub-question."
There wasn't a laugh that time, but more of a pained smirk. He rubbed your thigh with his thumb, eyes watching the motion, and yours watching him. It was a minute or so before he spoke again.
"There was…someone that appeared a few months before I hired you. And I thought she was…well, it doesn't matter now. She needed help, and I gave it to her."
An unease was building inside of you, but you couldn't pinpoint why.
"While my focus was fully on her, things around here slipped. People tried to take advantage of my distraction. By the time I was focused on the N109 Zone again, there was a lot of clean up to be done, and I needed someone who could get me information quickly and keep the base in check while I straightened things out. I asked around, and your name came up repeatedly, which is why I wanted to hire you, specifically."
He said the next words gently, but flicked your forehead, willing you to hear him. "I hired you, because I needed help. And there is no shame or weakness in asking for it. There is strength in recognizing what you can and cannot carry."
The gentle squeeze on your leg signaled the end of his answer, and then his eyes met yours again. But there was something there that you did not like - something hurt.
"What happened to her?"
"You're getting greedy now, kitten. A third?" But with a sigh, he indulged you anyway. "You are a rarity in the fact you look for dragons while others hunt for princes."
Sylus was pushing himself up now, causing you to slide down into his lap. You grabbed his arms instinctively to prevent yourself from falling. "But the past cannot be changed, and is not worth dwelling on. And, while, yes, I hired you to fulfill a need, I have grown to enjoy your company regardless of your skill set."
Something in your gut bubbled. The way he looked at you brought all of your swirling feelings toward the front of your mind - the joyrides, the quiet hours, everything at the auction... There, truthfully, was the real question. The actual thing gnawing at the back of your mind. It wasn't that you wanted to know why he hired you, exactly.
It was wanting to know if you were worth more than your ability - the part of you that most people only cared about.
That was the thought you had recently untangled within yourself as well - that you enjoyed being here, and it had long stopped being just another job. You had grown stronger, not just physically, but mentally. You had learned to trust again. Learned how to laugh freely. Learned how to play in ways that were more than games teaching survival.
And it was all thanks to Sylus. Sure, yes, it had started as a means to an end. But the way he was looking at you, had been looking at you… The way your heart pounded and calmed at the sight of him. It was much more than that now, wasn't it? Past just enjoying each other's company.
It was something that you needed to stay before you lost your gall.
Before you could respond, Sylus' brow furrowed, and his head turned toward the door, hearing something you hadn't just yet.
You flinched when it was slammed open into the wall, and bit back a frustrated sound of being interrupted. Right when you thought you might be on the cusp of clarifying whatever this was, there was something that needed his attention.
You went to move from your fairly compromising position, but large hands held your hips still. And since Sylus clearly did not want you to move, you couldn't. It was a quick reminder of the strength he constantly held back with you.
Distracted by your thoughts, you missed the conversation happening, but not the way Sylus' jaw had clinched. What was wrong?
His hands released their hold and you stood, offering your own to help him to his feet. Watching his face slip into the mask that was the leader of Onychinus was always memorizing as it was terrifying, and you were surprised when it didn't fall just yet.
Instead, his eyes remained kind. "Was your prize satisfactory?"
You nodded once, and then the shift happened - the one that reminded you with a painful pang that you needed to figure out whatever this was because he was still your boss.
"Good. Go shower - I'm going to need you soon."
Sylus was not one to jump when someone ordered, and he would not tolerate anyone's attempt to try to do so in his own home.
So he took his time. Showered, dressed, swung by the kitchen to grab an orange, which he peeled and ate leisurely. Then he washed his hands, dried them, and decided forty-five minutes should hopefully clarify his point.
He did not rush, thumbs causally slipped into pants pockets as sure footsteps climbed the stairs and moved down the hall toward his office.
The lack of screaming told him she was furious being kept this long. Good. He was furious she had the audacity to barge her way inside at all.
He did not knock, as he did not need to announce himself, but he noticed how she jumped at the sound of the door opening. Saw how her pulse seemed to jackrabbit in her neck.
It was then that he grinned, one full of teeth and warning.
"Druella."
Dark eyes looked toward him, glaring as he meandered around his desk. "It's impolite to make a woman wait."
"It is impolite to barge into a man's home and demand an audience, and yet there you sit."
"I have important information, and you took your time -"
"I was involved in a more pressing situation that required my full attention. This was not a scheduled meeting, and I will not entertain the idea that you deserve any special treatment because you feel you have something important to tell me directly."
Druella was shaking - not from embarrassment, but from anger. "The port island was attacked. The one you share with the Hyenas. There's no footage, and everyone is scrambling to keep things protected."
That got his attention. A gray brow twitched before he moved to pull his phone free and send you a quick message.
Druella continued to speak without prompting.
» I need footage from the attack on Port Island D-192 . Bring it to my office.
« …I can just send it to you.
His lip twitched upward. He knows you would have checked the security footage by now and why you would prefer to hide away upstairs.
» I wasnt asking.
Bubbles appeared and then disappeared…repeatedly.
« Do you own a hoodie? A plain one.
» If I do it is in the back of my closet. Why?
Bubbles appeared and disappeared again.
« I'll be there in five.
"Sylus! Are you even paying attention?"
"Yes - you are claiming that someone took down the security of the whole island to steal from one particular storage container that you're currently having someone look into because they also cannot find the manifest. What I still don't understand is why you are here."
The woman scoffed, curled hair bouncing with the severity of it. "Both of our businesses are at stake! I am coming to work with you to figure out what happened and offer any services we can provide. "
She leaned forward then, in a pose that, to most, would have been flirtatiously revealing. It caused Sylus to sneer. "It's time to let the past go, Sy. We need to move forward. Together."
The nickname curdled something deep inside him. She did not get to call him that. There has only been one person he's ever allowed to call him Sy, and that person was currently peeking her head around the door.
Immediately something in him calmed, and he beckoned you forward with a hand.
When you stepped fully into the room, the moment seemed to stretch two very different directions.
Crimson eyes widened just a fraction. He did not remember buying that sweater - he didn't remember buying a lot of things - but there was no doubt who else's it could be. Jet black, with red stitching up the sleeves, the cuffs pushed to your elbows, and the fabric still fell down to your forearms, the bottom of the garment landing at the tops of your thighs.
Deep umber ones wishing they could burn you where you stood. Because the owners of those eyes remembered that particular gift that you had the audacity to wear in front of her.
"I got what you asked for," you said with a smile, lifting a tablet in your hand, as if it were only the two of you. Then you turned, feinted shock. "Oh, hello again."
One thousand paper cuts.
Although Sylus would argue this was more equivalent to a stab wound near a major artery. He approved.
Druella did not like this, but was smart enough to hold her tongue as you took Sylus' hand and was pulled forward onto his lap.
You did not flinch with the movement, and it partially settled the beast inside of him.
"Druella, you remember V."
It was taking every ounce of strength in the woman across from the two of you to remain calm, cool, and collected. "I do."
"V, here, is more than just a pretty face. She is gifted when it comes to technology. I already have her working through the footage to pull what others might have missed. She will relay the information to you once we have something worth noting."
Druella looked about two steps away from a full meltdown. A vein pulsed dangerously in her forehead, and her pupils seemed to shrink, making her eyes wild. Lips tight, she forced a nod. "I will also have my team analyze the footage, just in case. We can compare information when you're ready."
She stood then, stiffly, before turning and heading out of the room. There was no goodbye, but the tension seemed to follow her. And when it did, you nearly slumped into the man holding you close.
"What have you found?"
"The cameras were cut, but only on part of the island. The storage container was conveniently in a rather specific dead zone away from the others. I don't think this was an outside job. I have the system going frame by frame before the cameras cut to see if there's anything to show who, but nothing so far."
Sylus hummed in approval, even if this was not the information he was expecting to hear. An inside job would be messy to handle, given his current list of priorities. And the port island wasn't exactly close. It was also remote enough that a boat wouldn't be able to find it on most any map.
There was a leak somewhere that needed repairing, and quickly.
You moved to get up, but an arm around your waist held you firmly in place. "We aren't finished with our discussion from earlier."
A knot lodged itself in your throat. "Oh."
You tried to twist around, but found yourself held firmly in place. Stilled when you felt the weight of his head in your shoulder. "Have I … done something to make you feel unwanted?"
"No," but then a pain laugh escaped you, "but that's been half the problem."
The arm around you tightened. "Did…Ava say something?"
"Ava?" the name seemed to break the heaviness of the conversation. "What does Ava have to do with this?"
The way he nearly fell lax against you in relief only added to your confusion, but he still wouldn't let you twist toward him.
"Sylus -"
"If she approaches you, you tell her no."
"No? Wait - I thought they were allies, what I am disagreeing to -"
"It's because she is one and I know how she works I don't trust her. Just tell her no."
A synapsis fired off, causing you to still.
"Does this relate to why you were so grumpy at the brunch at the auction?"
A pause, but an answer in itself. "I was not grumpy."
"You were, though."
"I was not grumpy," he reiterated, releasing you now and giving you a small push forward. "Go pull the footage from the docs from the cameras for review."
"Wait - there's something else," you said, pulling up the tablet and flipping quickly through multiple screens. You left it on one of the outer cameras of the base, where two men seemed to be causally walking around.
Those two men paused as Durella exited the front, following her closely.
"They were circling the building the whole meeting. And not in a 'we're bored' walk. They were clocking the cameras - and terrible about hiding it, although they tried."
That deepened his frown, and you felt the lightest increase of pressure from the hand that had returned to your back when you pulled up the new footage.
The Hyenas and Onychinus were on amicable terms, but nothing was ever set in stone. A change of power could happen between one minute and the next, if one was efficient enough.
But Druella had stayed fairly quiet until now. She appeared enough to stay noticed, like a gnat caught in a room, but something seemed to have tipped at the auction. This island breech was a farce, but for what it was unclear.
What Sylus did know was that he promised you safety, and that was something he could guarantee as long as you were here at the base. So, when he responded, he leaned harder into that position, brushing off your worries with a sigh.
"They can look all they want, but that doesn't mean they'll be able to get in."
"Druella did -"
"Druella pushed her way past the door security most likely due to the fact she has been here before. I will clarify with that team moving forward she is not to be permitted, and that will be the end of it."
Even that didn't seem enough to convince you, as your teeth worried your lip. His thumb slipped up to pull on your chin enough to free it. "You have enough on your plate. I will handle this. You have footage to find and a fight to win. Get through those first."
Taking a breath, you nodded. Druella and her stunts were nothing new to him. If he says it'll be handled, it'll be handled. But for some odd reason, your mind filled with alarm bells.
The fight was the following night, and every nerve in your body was alive with energy. You had analyzed footage, organized files, and checked your gear at least three times in the hours leading up to it.
Currently, you found yourself in your room, tugging on your modified boots. Without your jacket, you felt naked, despite the long sleeves and pants that you donned. Too exposed.
All your fights before, the jacket helped conceal your shape, and the hood most of your face. It was safe. Reassuring, like a child with a blanket.
But now you were stripped bare…metaphorically. Just one more thing on the pile of other things that seemed to just keep coming at you.
There was a knock at the door, and when it didn't automatically open, you turned with surprise.
"Come in."
Hinges moved silently, and in the crack, two crow-masked faces peeked through, stacked on each other.
You tilted your head at them, unable to hide the grin. "Since when are the two of you nervous around me?"
"Special circumstances," Luke claimed as they opened the door wider to step through, moving oddly together.
Brow furrowed and mouth opening with a response, it closed again when a large box was shoved into your chest.
"Here," they said together.
Gently, you took the sleek black box in your hands, confusion evident on your face, and walked over to your bed to set it down and open it.
And when you did, your breath caught - throat tightening.
"We…overheard you talking about your jacket for the fight. And how it didn't really fit well anymore."
"So we got you a new one. And since we can't be there to support, we figured this still would let us be there with you."
The jacket itself was black, oversized and a zip up similar to what you normally wore. Except the zipper slanted across the chest, the piping of it and the hood all in a deep red.
The hood, you noticed, matched their own, with two red horns raising on either side, but while each only had one pierced, yours had both. An "08" had been embroidered into the side of it.
Twisting the hood around allowed you to notice something else on the back, which had you immediately clutching it close - only to abandon it completely to grab both of them by the neck and pull them close instead.
It was the design of a crow, mid-flight - the style looking like ink being dragged across the fabric - the outline of it highlighted by the red moon in the background, as well at its eye.
Luke and Kieran didn't know what to do first, being grabbed so suddenly, but they curled into you instinctively, hands and arms figuring out how to maneuver in such a small area.
"Thank you," was all you could get out, giving another squeeze. They reciprocated, and for a few moments you stayed that way before breaking apart.
You looked at the sweater again, touching the material before a thought crossed your mind.
"So…if you're 06, and you're 07, and I'm 08…who are 1-5?"
Both twins shrugged, and, in unison said, "We've always been too afraid to ask."
~.~
Druella flinched at the vibration of her phone signaling a call. A look to the driver in the mirror, and a dark divider rose between them before she answered.
"Well?"
No greeting - straight to business.
"She's here, your little pet," she confirmed, eyes watching the neon lights of the city slip past. "In a building guarded by the devil himself. Who, by the way, was not faking his adoration for her at the auction."
The last line came out bitter, but it was out before she thought to mask it with amusement.
The voice on the other end huffed.
"I don't often believe in second chances - especially after your screw up with those damn poison bugs. However, I prefer to have contingency plans if Vulpis is unsuccessful at the fight."
An unladylike snort came out of her mouth. "Your confidence in your own product is astounding."
"You forget that both of them are Ever's creations. Even if one little mouse thinks she can hide in the walls. Should you be needed, you better make it count. There will not be a third."
The line died, and a hand heavy with rings dropped it unceremoniously onto the seat beside her. She should had never convinced the Hyenas to take Caesar up on his offer all those months ago. They were quick to make sure it was her head on the chopping block, too.
If all went well, she would not be needed after tonight, and this deal would be done. She would have to move quick, but it wasn't like Druella was out of options. Oh, no.
Besides, should Ever get their little experiment back, someone would need comfort. And her seeking refuge? It would be perfect.
That little hacker bitch just needed to get what was coming to her.
SYLUS HORNY CONTENT BY THE ONE AND ONLY MISS ITTYBITTY, LAST NAME FANBLOG????? WE ALL CHEERED
Absolute banger of an opening oooo lord may you grant us grace and mercy. It set the tone IMMEDIATELYYYYYY
“Come. Closer.”
YES
but Sylus clicks his tongue, and you loathe to admit you react no differently from a chastised pup when you obey.
GOD YESSSSSS there it is again the pet/animal/prey motifs with SYLUS MOOORRRREEEEEEEE GIMMEGIMMEGIMMEGIMME
“Good. You seem capable of being obedient for once.”
I’m so bricked up man. This is so unfortunate head in hands weeping.
It’s also quite upsetting the way miss non-mc views herself. The way she compares herself to everyone around her. Her misunderstanding of Sylus’ worry and overbearing nature doesn’t stem from his lack of trust in her capabilities but rather his fears of losing her.
They’ve caught themselves in quite the cycle with them wanting to protect each other in extreme ways. That coupled with non-mc’s insecurities makes for rather huge outbursts.
Especially in this:
“Gah–!” Your frustration comes out halfway between a yell and something more wounded, your vision already stinging with angry tears. “Fuck, okay, I get it! I know I’m not like your hunter friend, or any of your more competent lackeys, but you don’t have to treat me like I’m fucking useless!”
The whole time they’re shouting and neither of them are getting what the other one is trying to say.
Girls im bored let’s talk about our deeper feelings without interrupting each other…🧍🏻♀️you first…
And then it leads straight into this:
The fire in his eyes shifts. From furious, to contemplative.
Then stone-cold.
ooooo she’s really dug herself into a hole
...The next thing you know, you’re face-down across his lap, staring at the floor as he yanks both your wrists behind your back in a punishing grip.
I’m so bricked up again… this is so uncouth of me good lord
He doesn’t respond. Instead, you feel the palm of his free hand glide slowly from your thigh, trailing upward along the curve of your lower back.
I just lost my vision holy shit
Sylus rarely loses his temper like this. In fact, it only seems to happen when your safety is involved—when you’ve placed yourself directly in harm’s way, or when circumstances leave him too far away to reach you before something goes wrong.
So close…….. but so far away. In this house, the neurons are NOT connecting🗣️🗣️🗣️
“I’m– ah!” You lurch at the unexpected smack he delivers viciously on your ass.
Oh my god
he croons mockingly, a cruel, near-manic light his eyes.
Oh he’s so into it…. I want him so bad
“Words,” Sylus orders. “Or have you lost your tongue along with your wit?”
😣he’s so mean in this….. give me mor— I mean… haha… that’s not nice…..
Sylus scoffs. “From the beginning,” he says coldly. “And this time, show a little gratitude after each one.”
Genuinely at a loss for words. Brain go brrrrrrrrrrr. He’s so hot this is so sooooo unfortunate
Sylus clenches his jaw, a hiss slipping between his teeth at the vulgar sight of your quivering cunt, drenched in want.
🫠
A palm reaches down to encircle your neck in a firm, but gentle grip. To ground you.
Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes
The name of endearment hits Sylus like a blow to the back of the head.
Genuinely feels like I’ve been taking multiple blows to the back of my head all throughout this tbh
“Shhh,” he soothes,
COOING CROONING AND SHUSHING OMG GET OUT OF MY HEADDDDDD
and Sylus breathes raggedly as he rests his forehead against yours, watching the roll of your eyes intently. Obsessively. “That’s it—fuck, you’re daddy’s good girl, aren’t you?”
Oh my god
I’m spinning this in my head like it’s on a microwave plate.
“I think it all went to my ass,” you complain mulishly, scrunching your face as he pulls you tighter into his embrace like some oversized python. Or an overgrown koala. “And my vagina. No thanks to you.”
LMAOOOO
“Poor thing. Did we learn anything from this?
“No.”
LMAOOOOOO
I like to think that them not labelling their relationship is partly because making it concrete will 1000% amplify their fears of losing each other. That having each other as not-quite lovers and that ambiguity gives them a shield. (Yew already know that shield isn’t doing shit)
This fried me. Cooked. Sautéed. Broiled. Baked. Sous vide.
🫡 thank you for your service I enjoyed this very thoroughly. Will forever keep this on my mind.
—🏎️
I GET SO GIDDY WHEN I SEE UR DETAILED COMMENTARIES ILYYY this one in particular is made w/ love for deviants such as u and i 🙂↕️🫶🏼
AND do know that i love u all the more for reading into the setup of things and the underlying dynamics between them DAMN u really are a Real One 🥺🥵😍🥰
“I like to think that them not labelling their relationship is partly because making it concrete will 1000% amplify their fears of losing each other. That having each other as not-quite lovers and that ambiguity gives them a shield.”
omigoddddd racecar SP is going to absolutely destroy u (once i finally get a semi-consistent posting schedule going 🤧) u almost hit the nail on the head with that one lmao SHH banish it from ur mind !! (almost. kinda. perhaps. much to ponder about……)
but yes this is basically the condensed version of their relationship without diving too deeply into the angst and tension yet. the ~missing piece~ in this one is probably some insight into why non-mc (oc) gets so confused by sylus' actions/reactions whenever it comes to his "protectiveness" over her—and, of course, their complete inability to communicate properly. in this house......
LOL i know i said this one was MERELY inspired by SP and it's not entirely pulled from it, but i definitely had them in mind the entire time 🙂↔️
I JUST BEGUN TO READ IT CAUSE I WAS LIL PREOCCUPIED BEFORE BUT THE START OFF WITH “Walk me through what you’ve done wrong.” ARE YEW FUCKING CRAZY?????????????¿?¿?????
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAÃǍÆÂÅÂÅÆÆ
—it’s ok I guess…………
..........u read it one-handed didn't u its ok u can be honest its just us sluts
Summary: Your boss’ overprotectiveness could qualify as a workplace hazard.
Word Count: 4.4k
Tags: slight dubcon(?), slight humiliation kink, brat-taming ig, nasty, gratuitous SMUT, minimal plot i just want spanky spanks, Sylus is not The Gentle Dom™ he’s known for here sorryyyy, oh and a healthy amount of daddy kink (sorry 2x)
A/N: HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY LMAO. Idk what else to say but that the spanking scene from the latest banner cognitively altered something cortex-deep and I fear it permanently liberated me from shame. Short, ultra-filthy oneshot ahead.
Also, nobody jump me over Sylus being OOC here, okay. This was borne entirely out of pure fucking horny and what the olden people would probably call a practice in self-gratification, so trust me, I know.
This was written with a non-MC in mind, so that way Sylus is the only one who’s OOC here (but not in my heart and the deep recesses of this c/u/n/t <3) because I genuinely cannot picture canon MC in this situation and I refuse to try, as usual.
“Walk me through what you’ve done wrong.”
You’d already suspected you were in deep shit somewhere between the deafeningly silent drive back from the job that had gone sideways so fast and him leaving you behind the second you returned to base, disappearing without so much as a glance in your direction to cool his head elsewhere.
Still, you knew you’d truly fucked up when you entered his office after, finally, being summoned... only to freeze at the sight of him, and the severity of his glare.
Sylus sits silent, forearms braced against the polished oakwood, hands steepled before his mouth as he fixed you with a sharp, unwavering look. The dim light from the lone lamp in the corner caught against the rings on his fingers, cold against colder eyes.
“I–”
“Come. Closer.”
The command is final, resolute. You bristle instinctively.
One sharp arch of his brow catches the beginning of that defiance immediately, and that small reaction alone makes you falter.
Still, you force yourself to keep your chin high as you hesitantly approach the terrifying figure situated a mere few feet away. But before you can stop in front of the large desk, he tilts his head, signalling for you to round the corner.
Closer, until you’re standing directly in front of him. Your hackles rise, tempted to stand your ground where you are—but Sylus clicks his tongue, and you loathe to admit you react no differently from a chastised pup when you obey.
So there you stand, barely a hair’s breadth away from sharing the same air, caught between his knees as his hand clamps firmly around your wrist. To pull you precisely where he wants you.
You try to step back, twisting against his grip, but Sylus doesn’t budge. Red eyes pin you in place instead, burning with a cold, terrifying fury.
“Good. You seem capable of being obedient for once.”
“Shut up,” you hiss, stung by the condescension oozing from his voice.
Sylus bares his teeth in a semblance of not-quite a smile. Something more morbidly amused than anything else, tainted with warning. Careful, it says.
Swallowing the remaining hesitation lodged in your throat, you retort, “Stop treating me like a kid. I know what I did, and yeah, maybe I could’ve been smarter about it, but—”
Sylus lets out a short laugh devoid of any real humor. “So you are aware that what you’ve done was utterly foolish?”
“Do you even hear yourse–” You cut yourself off with a frustrated sound, already irritated beyond belief by the sharp dismissal in his tone. “I can’t just stay hidden while they—”
“When I tell you I hold your wellbeing above all else, do you think I say it as mere inflection?”
“No, but what was I supposed to do?” you demand. “Leave you there to fend for yourself?”
His eyes burn a scorching fire as he enunciates slowly, “Yes. That is precisely what you should have done.”
“I’m sorry, but you’re asking for something impossible,” you growl, still struggling to wrench your wrist free from his hold. “I can’t do that. You know I can’t.”
“Your safety is not up for debate,” he snaps, and the brittle facade of your bravado does, too.
“Gah–!” Your frustration comes out halfway between a yell and something more wounded, your vision already stinging with angry tears. “Fuck, okay, I get it! I know I’m not like your hunter friend, or any of your more competent lackeys, but you don’t have to treat me like I’m fucking useless!”
Sylus opens his mouth, no doubt ready to launch into what would no doubt become another exhausting argument about your incompetence and your complete lack of self-preservation—but something seems to make him reconsider.
The fire in his eyes shifts. From furious, to contemplative.
Then stone-cold.
An oppressive heaviness stifles the air around you. The man before you, your boss by every definition of the word, seems to have decided he’s done arguing.
...The next thing you know, you’re face-down across his lap, staring at the floor as he yanks both your wrists behind your back in a punishing grip.
You shout in indignation, kicking your legs uselessly in an attempt to escape the prison of his hold, but to no avail. Sylus, apparently, is in no mood to grant you even the dignity of false leniency this time.
Without warning, he flips your skirt up—a damning decision to wear one on a heist, though never in the way you imagined would come back to bite you—and bunches the fabric high against your hips, leaving your thin underwear embarrassingly exposed.
Heat rushes violently to your face. Shame follows just as quickly: sharp and prickling across your scalp, before sinking nauseatingly deep in your gut.
“...Are you actually sorry?” he intones softly, something deceptive in the way he says it.
“W-what?”
He doesn’t respond. Instead, you feel the palm of his free hand glide slowly from your thigh, trailing upward along the curve of your lower back.
You’re not. Not even an iota. But with your not-quite lover’s current temperament, you feel almost compelled to oblige anyway.
Sylus rarely loses his temper like this. In fact, it only seems to happen when your safety is involved—when you’ve placed yourself directly in harm’s way, or when circumstances leave him too far away to reach you before something goes wrong.
You remember the first time he’d thrown you across his lap. It happened after a supposedly separate mission went catastrophically awry, when some idiotic urge to impress him had driven you to go completely off-brief. You came back bloodied, barely responsive over comms, leaving him without eyes on you for nearly half an hour.
Half an hour that very nearly drove him out of his mind.
So when you finally stumbled back to him in one battered piece, the last threads of Sylus’ restraint snapped entirely. And as a result, he’d doled it out on—
“I’m– ah!” You lurch at the unexpected smack he delivers viciously on your ass.
“Tell me properly, then,” he croons mockingly, a cruel, near-manic light his eyes. “Like you mean it. Say, Sylus, I’m sorry for being a brat. Come now.”
You gripe stubbornly, refusing to yield so easily. You sink your teeth into your lower lip hard enough to taste rust.
“Words,” Sylus orders. “Or have you lost your tongue along with your wit?”
“No!”
Another harsh swat. This time, the rings adorning his fingers dig cruelly into softened flesh, sending a sharp, stinging ache radiating through you.
An involuntary sob tears free from your throat.
“I’ll count up to—hm, how many rounds did you fire after I told you to stop?”
The question is rhetorical, of course. Asked as if you have any real say in this at all. He already knows the number; the sound of each bullet probably still rings around inside his skull.
“Nine? No, ten. You managed to put down two out of that.”
You blink angrily at his derision, right on the verge of mouthing off—
—then you stop cold, dread curling in your stomach as you remember what comes next.
“Ah, though you did swap mags midway through.” Sylus feigns sudden realization, like the memory has only just occurred to him. “Which brings the total to…” He hums thoughtfully. “Care to hazard a guess?”
Your heart thuds violently in your chest with a growing sense of foreboding, the reality that Sylus is dead serious despite the jeering mockery in his tone becoming painfully clear to you now. The telltale beginnings of trepidation quake through you at the perceived danger you’re in… and the promised pain soon to follow.
You answer a second too late, for him. “Test me one more time,” Sylus warns lowly, “and you’ll spend the rest of the night staring at the floor from across my lap.”
The last traces of mocking amusement vanish from his voice entirely. And just like that, you know you’ve lost.
“T-twenty,” you mutter in defeat.
“Twenty-three,” he corrects. “But let’s round that up to twenty-five, shall we?”
The sudden strike tears a yelp from you, though you quickly stumble through: “Three…!”
Sylus scoffs. “From the beginning,” he says coldly. “And this time, show a little gratitude after each one.”
Spank. “O-one! Thank you–”
Spank. “Two! T-thank–” Spank. “You!”
“Three!” You breathe out through your nose, blinking harshly. “Thank you...”
Spank.
And so it goes. The humiliation burns viciously.
Because your actions had come from instinct. The instinct to protect—something you should be allowed to do as part of Onychinus.
So why does he insist on treating you like this?
As if you can’t handle yourself. As if you aren’t capable of giving as hard as you get.
As if you’ll always remain something weaker than him.
You wail through the pain as he rains his frustration down onto your backside, reduced to pathetic little sniffles through each damned number, even when he delivers the final blow.
“T-t-twenty-five… th-thank you…”
Your throat burns from all the screaming. Everything hurts. But what hurts most is your shattered ego, lying broken in pieces at his feet as your head hangs low like a scolded dog’s. Your breath comes out in short, ragged gasps from the exertion, and you keep your gaze trained downward while tears roll helplessly down your face.
You’ve paid his price, and your ass still throbs painfully from it, but it’s done. It’s over—
until Sylus hooks his fingers into the wet fabric sticking from the pool between your thighs, and the rough slide of cotton against your abused cheeks stings something almost unbearable.
Mortification floods your face instantly.
With it comes the true humiliation; the most shameful proof of all, bared in full view before him: your drooling pussy, mortifyingly soaked throughout the entire ordeal, exposed before him despite all your struggling, all your resistance, all the pride you’d tried so desperately to cling to.
And judging by the dark satisfaction flickering across Sylus’ face, he knows it too. You can’t hide anything from him.
Sylus clenches his jaw, a hiss slipping between his teeth at the vulgar sight of your quivering cunt, drenched in want. Vexation, guilt, and lust rage viciously inside him, and he doesn’t know whether to delight in the fact that you’ve managed to derive pleasure from the punishment—or make it worse for you still, so you might finally understand the helplessness you’ve burdened him with. The helplessness you’ve made him feel ever since.
It would only make sense that you, the source of it all, should pay penance by taking the full brunt of his ire. Shouldn’t you?
His palm settles heavily against your left buttock, a thumb forcing you wide open beneath his gaze, greedy to see more of your lewd insides you’d tried—and failed—to conceal from him. You fuss, though there’s little you can actually do against the unrelenting restraint holding you in place.
Both of you are painfully aware of this. The imbalance between you, the difference in power. How frighteningly easy it would be for him to bend you into submission whenever he pleased.
He’s utterly entranced by the stringy essence drenching his finger—and inadvertently, the worsted wool of his trousers where he’s propped you onto. A rivulet of your desire drips down like viscid honey, splattering on the tip of his shoe, and the obscenity of it all draws a tortured groan from deep in his throat.
“Filthy,” the word comes out scathing, but your body reacts as if it’s been praised. You whimper, shivering at the languid ministrations against your sensitive flesh. “Do you like making me mad?”
Your mind begins to drift further from reality, the pain almost exalting in the way it strips everything else away until all that remains are his words and him, him.
No, you don’t like making him mad. You don’t like the disappointed look in his eyes, as if you’re incapable. You don’t like it when he treats you less an equal, and more like a delicate doll in need of protection from every possible harm.
But you like it when he chastises you, the residual shame washed through with pleasure. You like the sting of punishment when it’s dealt by the same hands that would soothe it all better afterwards.
You like it when he forces your mind empty until nothing else matters except this.
And him.
Only him.
“What do you need?” he prods quietly, stroking the expanse of your wet cunt in a slow, hypnotic caress; upwards, downwards, in slow, circular motions. Pushing a finger in just enough to coax you open around the teasing digit until it reaches the sensitive pearl hidden beneath.
You mewl, involuntarily trapping his hand between your thighs. He stops.
The sudden loss of attention is almost debilitating. “N-no—” Your pitiful pleas dissolve into nonsensical garble, and your cruel tormentor scoffs at your pathetic supplication.
“No?” he repeats boredly. “I’m beginning to grow rather tired of hearing that word from you. Should I stop?”
"N-no—m-more…" you whimper. The man stays still. "Please, please–?"
"You can beg better than that, pet. Have I not trained you well enough?"
You squeeze your eyes shut, the wetness gathered along your waterline spilling down your reddened cheeks for the nth time. The stinging humiliation, the utter ignominy of being rendered helpless and strewn across his lap to receive punishment no differently from a misbehaving child…
The lingering shame prevents you from speaking, but the fear of disappointing Him forces your mouth open anyway, soundless. You shake your head in mounting resentment with yourself, your breathing beginning to stutter as the walls slowly close in around you.
You want, you want— but you can’t have— You can’t do what he asks—
Stupid, stupid—
A palm reaches down to encircle your neck in a firm, but gentle grip. To ground you.
“Sweetie.” Tenderness bleeds through the earlier authority in his tone, and despite yourself, you shiver. “Come back to me.”
Your pupils retract sluggishly, bleary as your vision slowly adjusts when you lift your head, dizzy. You twist slightly in his hold and catch the sight of carmine irises melting softer into a deep amaranth in the yellow light.
Sylus removes his hands from where they’d been holding you moments prior, helping prop you upright before bodily shifting your position and arranging your limbs like folded wings, gathering you securely into the nest of his arms.
He tucks your head beneath his chin, breathing you in like he’s taking comfort in the simple fact that you’re here in his arms. Safe.
And like a stranger peering through a peephole, your fuzzy brain slowly pieces together that the worst is finally over.
“Should we leave it at that for tonight?” Sylus murmurs, genuinely checking for the telltale signs that you’ve reached your limit. “It seems we’ve had enough excitement for one evening—”
You let out a small whine against his throat.
The worst is over, but—
No. No.
You don’t want him to stop.
“I wanna be good. I can be good for you.” Mustering the last semblance of courage left in you, you plead earnest; watery eyes stare up at the pair of reds trained on your face.
The name of endearment hits Sylus like a blow to the back of the head. And whatever lingering fury remained from the earlier fiasco dissolves almost instantly at the sound of it leaving your mouth so earnest and broken. So sincere.
And clearly indicative of the subdrop that you’ve fallen deep into, that it nearly makes his gums ache.
His grip tightens around you reflexively as he finally takes in the full extent of your state: the dazed look clouding your eyes, the way your body folds pliantly into his without resistance, openly vulnerable and trusting him entirely to take the reins now that your mind has begun withdrawing into itself.
Christ, how was he supposed to resist?
He slams you down onto the desk hard enough to send papers scattering wildly askew, the force of it knocking the breath clean from your lungs and leaving your head spinning.
Zipping down the front of his pants, Sylus pulls out his rock-hard cock from the confines of his boxers. With one hand wrapped around himself, he rubs the leaking head against your slit in maddening circles, deliberately bumping against your engorged clit with every pass. Yet a few teasing rounds are all he could manage before he tires of prolonging your suffering, and his.
Inch by paralyzing inch, he feeds it to you—the thick length of him, splitting you open deliciously. The way your slit weeps, greedy as it swallows the mushroom tip despite the overwhelming stretch, enraptures him.
You whine weakly, attempting to squirm away, to hide, as though it’s any match against the unrelenting hands keeping you spread wide open beneath him. He huffs at the remaining traces of your resistance, amused by how futile it is when neither of you are under any illusion that you’ll be leaving your place beneath him for hours into the night.
“Let me see my pretty baby.”
Sylus easily pries your hand away from your face, ignoring the fruitless endeavour and the way you try to hide the evidence of what he’s done to you. Traces of the ruinous pleasure he’s left you with.
Your lashes stick together as you blink up at him, mascara smudged beneath red-rimmed eyes.
“There she is,” he coos softly, wiping away the stray tears with his thumb. “Hi, baby.”
You take a second too long to answer, grasping at figurative straws. Sylus, evidently, has little patience left for it.
The sharp thrust makes you cry out immediately, leaving no doubt as to what he thinks of your lack of response. You scramble weakly, nails scratching against the forearms holding you down. They don’t yield as he continues to slowly spear his cock in and out of your tight cunt.
Your thin voice wobbles as you finally acquiesce to the demands of your relentless (not-quite..?) lover, struggling to keep yourself from crying out under the perverse disparity between your small, fluttering hole and his monstrous size. "H-hi, daddy."
“Shhh,” he soothes, sweet in stark contrast to the rough rhythm he has on you. “You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart. Dad’s being too rough?”
You shake your head.
“No? You can take more, then?”
You shake your head again, more frantic this time. The low chuckle he lets out sends reverberations down to where the two of you are connected, and you clench helplessly in response.
"This pussy's telling me something else, sweetie. Do I listen to her or to you, my love?"
Don’t know if I can. It’s too sore, daddy. Sore in the way your body still clenches helplessly around him, fluttering in time with the frantic hammering of your heart, unable to distinguish whether it comes from the repeated intrusion or the carnal desire for more. You don’t know if you want to plead for a smidge of mercy, or beg him not to stop. You can’t utter anything coherent beyond a long-strung moan.
Humming lowly, he makes the decision for you.
“I’ll take that as both, then.”
Sylus rips through the leather bodice of your top with his evol, disintegrating the material instantly. The sparks left dancing across your skin sting in a way you know is entirely deliberate. Addictive, too.
The next thing you know, he captures your breast in his hungry mouth—ravenous as he sucks, and sucks. It aches, and you whimper at the relentless onslaught.
His right eye blazes as he peers up at you, intent on drinking in every minute reaction you give him. Every furrow of your brow from the torment. Every trembling breath born from the impossible collision of discomfort and agonizing pleasure that only he can drag from you.
It makes Sylus feel almost godlike. In control.
Especially after spending the last several hours feeling as though he’d lost it entirely.
That fear slowly drifts further and further from his mind the longer he keeps you like this, overwhelmed and trapped deep within the throes of corruptive gratification.
Your mind is nowhere on Earth, the only thing tying you to reality tethered to the rough push and pull of his cock pulverizing your insides.
“Ungh–unh—” You mewl brokenly, rivers streaming down your face. Pain and pleasure become an ouroboros of destruction, ravaging you steadily to ruin by the hand pressing down against your stomach, forcing you to feel how he drills and carves a place for himself, deep into your core.
“Look at you,” he exhales as he releases the reddened nub from his mouth, visibly enamoured by the sight before him. “Taking me so well. Do you think I treat you just as well, baby?”
“Y-yes… thank you,” you manage to breathe out. He’s praising you. He loves you. You can’t think of anything else to do but to show how grateful you are.
Sylus laughs softly. “Thanking me now? Quite the contrast from all that earlier grit, I think.” Even as he teases, he makes no move to push you further, fully aware you’re already more than halfway out of it.
With excruciating languor, he pulls out his slick-covered shaft, only to slam fully back into you in one brutal thrust. Over and over, he fucks you like an animal—battering your cervix, hitting every secret spot within, as if staking its claim over the ruined wasteland of your desire.
It's so good. It's so good. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you…” you blabber wetly, unable to stop the endless stream of gratitude spilling from your lips.
Thanking him only fuels the destructive fire raging inside him, and Sylus breathes raggedly as he rests his forehead against yours, watching the roll of your eyes intently. Obsessively. “That’s it—fuck, you’re daddy’s good girl, aren’t you?”
“Yes, yes!” you relent, squirming and arching helplessly against him. One of his large hands slides to your lower back, pushing you upward in support while the other maintains a possessive hold over your belly, leaving you trapped securely between both of them.
There’s a building pressure coiling just below your abdomen; pulsing, clawing its way through the overwhelming haze in your mind, and you feel…
“D-daddy,” you stammer out, a sense of alarm cutting through the thick fog. “I-I think… I have to–”
“Mmh? Are you gonna cum for me, sweetheart?”
“Nnooo,” you whimper in distress, trying desperately to hold it back. Your eyes squeeze shut, and a few more tears escape. “N-not it, no, no…”
Sylus practically coos at the panicked response, all while relishing in your contracting walls, clearly recognizing what’s happening long before you can properly voice it yourself.
“Yes. Yes, shit– let go, my love. Give me everything,” he rasps, sounding almost desperate himself, eyes ablaze with the thirst and anticipation for the full culmination of your passion. Your ardor to wet his cock, and to whet his appetite.
He lowers his head until his mouth finds your throat, teeth latching down against your skin as the demand is punctuated by an overpowering bite meant to take. Everything. All of it. All of you—
The order in his voice commands you to submit, and you’re helpless against the absolute control it exerts over your body.
Almost instantaneously, you clench down. Hard. Your orgasm rocks you to your core, and he fucks you through it as it as it comes out in sporadic, uncontrollable spurts. It crashes violently over your head in giant waves, dragging you beneath the undertow until you’re utterly lost within the current. Blinded by the paralyzing ecstasy of it all.
Sylus swears to himself, his tempo faltering from the sheer rapture that is your cunt, milking him through spasms. He releases his hold around your midsection only for one hand to slam against the console hard enough for it to crack beneath his grip.
Not long after, he finally follows after you, a rough, possessive growl spilling against your neck as he loses himself in the same blinding wave of euphoria.
_
It might have been seconds, or minutes, or years until your vision finally returns and you regain some semblance of consciousness.
You’re swaddled in a familiar charcoal suit jacket, vaguely aware of being carried across the hallway and toward Sylus’ room no doubt, and the man quietly shushes you back to rest the moment you stir awake in his arms.
So you surrender one more time.
Just as you always do.
-
-
-
“Does it still hurt?” Sylus murmurs gently once the two of you are finally laid together in bed, after he’d cleaned you up and tended to you with almost painstaking care in the bath.
He’s referring to the bruising you sustained from the earlier disaster of a mission gone wrong and not—
“I think it all went to my ass,” you complain mulishly, scrunching your face as he pulls you tighter into his embrace like some oversized python. Or an overgrown koala. “And my vagina. No thanks to you.”
He chuckles, landing a soft kiss atop your head. “Poor thing. Did we learn anything from this?”
“No.”
You feel more than see the smirk forming on his face from where he’s buried against your hair. “Mm. Then I suppose I can’t be blamed for reacting exactly the same way the next time a reckless little mouse decides to throw herself headfirst into danger for me.”
The teasing remark is met with a scoff, but deep down, both of you know neither of you really minds this arrangement.
End A/N: WHAT WAS THAT— must have been the wind. Anyway.
Actually, without spoiling too much but perhaps giving a tiny glimpse of what’s to come, this is somewhat similar to one of the chapters I had in mind for Sundown Purgatory lol. So to the few people who might understand the bs I’m spouting, just know I definitely had SP!OC in mind while writing this :))
i hope y'all are reading the latest iteration of every fic i post lol 😭 i usually go back and do minor fixes/improvements after posting (fuck am i, in frontend dev), so i highly encourage checking the original post each time forliveupdatesmuwahahaifeellikeimatwork🫶🏼
(not to say rbs aren't my lifeblood. all of u are amazing. thank u ❤️)
