⋆˙⟡ CREEPIN’! ♡ ࿐
about ♱ the back alley is quiet when your late night shift ends. your boyfriend is supposed to pick you up, but he’s nowhere to be see and your phone blinks its last light before its untimely death. you have no way of reaching him, or anyone for that matter. you’re stranded, all alone—until a stranger finds you … and you might be fucked. literally.
pairing ♱ sylus x fem!reader
word count ♱ 3.4k
content warning ♱ dark content, cnc (consensual noncon), roleplay, predator/prey, dom/sub dynamics, squirting, fingering, exhibitionism, dumbification, piv, unprotected sex, degradation (use of slut x2), praise, pet names [sweetheart, baby, pretty girl], creampie — MINORS DNI 18+ (if this makes you uncomfortable, please dni)
kit says ♱ HAPPY HALLOWEEN! since i couldn’t do kinktober, i wanted to do something to commemorate the season and what better way than sylus and some cnc? i do apologize as this is a bit rushed and not proofread. LIKELY a bit repetitive. but if you see a typo, no you didn’t. ANYWAY! feedback + comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated ⭑.ᐟ
“shit, shit, shit,” you whisper under your breath, thumb pressing hard on the power button—only for the dead battery symbol to blink back at you, mocking in its silence.
of course this happens to you. how unlucky that you’re in some back alley behind the cafe you work at with your now-dead phone and no way to call your boyfriend to pick you up. “fucking shit.”
you look around and notice how dark it is at the moment. the only light source comes from the lamppost. dim, yet warm—
though the warmth of the light does nothing to ease your nerves. if anything, the eerie calmness of it all makes you fidgety. apprehensive.
your boyfriend should know to come get you soon. it is closing time, after all, and you typically finish around the same time every night… so you do what you do best and wait. you linger through the alleyway, kicking pebbles with your feet to pass the time, the quiet clatter echoing softly as the minutes drag on.
a deep, raspy voice from behind startles you though, cutting through the quiet, “hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s not safe to be out here alone?” the voice is low and edged—unfamiliar. “especially at this hour.”
you let out a sharp gasp, spinning around to find the source just to be met with a tall, broad shouldered man. his hair shimmers silver beneath the streetlight and his eyes… as striking as they are, glow red—unnatural and cold. intimidation rolls off him in waves, making your stomach twist into uneasy knots. you take a step back, then another, until your spine brushes against the rough brick wall of the cafe behind you, but this doesn’t stop him… he keeps moving.
“i-i’m just waiting for someone…” you stutter, hands grabbing at the ends of your skirt. you grip and tug at the fabric roughly, presenting your anxious tick to the stranger before you.
he subtly inches towards you but you notice, stilling in panic. your body is completely flush against the cool brick. there’s nowhere else to go. “who are you waiting for, sweetheart?”
your throat runs dry at the pet name. you can’t say you hate the way it slips his mouth because your panties gluing to your core would prove that it’s a lie.
“i’m waiting for… for my boyfriend.” you reply, breath hitching as he gets even closer. close enough to smell the expensive cologne he sports. “he’ll be here soon.”
he hums, now just inches away. “of course a pretty thing like you would have a boyfriend… i can’t believe he has you waiting out in the dark like this… he must know it’s dangerous.” you can see in the muted light that his eyes drink you up, trailing up and down your body. “especially when you're dressed like this.”
he must be referring to the skirt that meets your mid-thigh and the top that accentuates your chest a little more than it should. again, how unlucky for you to be dressed like this on today of all days.
you look down at your outfit and judge yourself, but he stops you with his words, “don’t worry, pretty girl, i didn’t say you looked bad. quite the contrary, actually.”
“o-oh.” you say, cheeks flaring up in flattery and embarrassment and, again, in pure fear.
he steps closer, just by a few millimeters, cupping your cheek. you gasp at the contact, mind yelling for you to run, hide, do anything to put at least 3 miles between you and this stranger, but you're frozen in your spot. caged in. trapped. you’re not going anywhere. he’s making sure of that.
“your boyfriend ever tell you how pretty you are?” he asks, the pad of his thumb rubbing over your burning cheek. “if i were him, i wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of you… let alone let you out of my sight.”
you shudder, knees going weak and pussy gushing over the stranger and his smooth words. “wh-who are you… w-what do you want from me?” you whisper, unable to trust your likely wavered voice.
the sound of his rich chuckle fills your ears and you cower, “so many questions…” his eyes study yours and you want to look away, but you just… can’t.
“are you going to hurt me?”
he coos, free hand finding your waist, “oh, pretty girl… is that what you want? you want me to hurt you?” he squeezes your flesh, rough enough to elicit a tiny whimper from you. “you like that?”
you hesitantly shake your head, but the pleading look on your face says the opposite. “n-no, i don’t…”
“no?” he asks, a lilt to his voice that tells you ‘i don’t believe you.’
you shake your head again, but the man just laughs. he takes his hand off your cheek and slowly trails down, fingers ghosting down your skin.
your heart hammers wildly against your ribs, each beat loud enough to drown out thought. fear, panic, hysteria—all of it coils tight in your chest, tangling with something you don’t understand. your breath comes uneven, trembling, as arousal pools in your stomach despite the panic clawing its way through you.
but when his hand wraps around your throat and forces you to look up at him, you swear the moan that comes out of your mouth is completely unintentional. your mouth parts and eyes widen in shock, terror and a bit of embarrassment over the fact.
and the corner of his mouth tugs up and a smug smirk appears. he knows he has you right where he wants you. he leans in, hot breath fanning against your even-hotter face, whispering, “you must be needy if you’re willing to let a stranger hear all these pretty noises in public.” and when you let out another choked moan, he chuckles again. deep and low. “bet you’re a mess for me, hmm? am i right, baby?”
you gulp, brows drawn in but you’re not sure if it’s because you feel good or because you want him to stop. you gasp, when his grip tightens and you remember his question. “n-no… i’m not.”
“you sure? i think you’re lying to me, pretty girl… should i check just to be sure?” he squeezes your throat a bit tighter and you squirm under him, the brick uncomfortably scraping your back.
you wheeze, attempting to shake your head, but his hand prohibits the act. “d-d-don’t…”
he sends you a faux pout, “why? if you’re not wet, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” he says. “how about this… if you’re not, then i’ll let you go, yeah?”
the thing is, you’re soaked—practically sitting in a pool of your arousal. soaked all the way through your panties that your thighs now grossly stick together as your pussy continues to gush and gush. you know he won’t let you go if he finds out.
and how unlucky that he doesn’t wait for your permission. that the hand on your waist is now under your skirt, fingers grazing over the rather large wet spot on your panties. how unlucky you must be to be in this situation.
and how sick you must be to enjoy it.
you whine, body jolting at the touch. “pl-please! stop– i-i—” you stumble over words trying to find an excuse. “i have a boyfriend!”
the calloused pads of his fingers find your clit anyway, rubbing into the clothed bud with flair. “i don’t see him around here, baby. all i see is a pretty little toy at my disposal.” he coos again, watching the way your back arches off the wall and feeling you try to subtly grind against his fingers.
“and look at that! you’re so easy, sweetheart.” he chuckles, lips ghosting over your jaw. “getting this wet over nothing… telling me no while you get yourself off on my fingers… letting a stranger put their hands on you like this.”
“i-i’m not–” you're cut off by your own sharp inhale when his fingers pull your panties to the side, exposing your sopping cunt to the cool air. you frantically look around to see if anyone is near, but the stranger dragging his lengthy digits through your slit brings your attention back to him.
“you're not what?” he asks, bringing his drenched fingers back up and away from your needy pussy. when you notice the way they glisten under the dim light, you know you need to retract your statement, but the man is insistent on getting you to finish your sentence. “you’re not what, baby?”
you don’t reply and it makes the man shake his head. “see this?” he asks, referring to his hand. “see how fucking wet you are for me? now say ahhh.”
he presses his two wet fingers against your mouth and you reluctantly open up, allowing him to slip them inside. you’re thrown off by the taste of yourself, but ultimately wrap your lips around the digits and suck them clean while he praises you.
“that’s a good girl,” he murmurs, pulling them out, seeing how your face contorts with need. “wish you could see how slutty you look with my fingers in your pretty little mouth and around your throat.” he says, voice low while dominance oozes out of him. “so fucking gorgeous.”
you know you’re helpless, there’s no getting out of this now no matter how much you want to. he has you trapped between him and a brick wall with his long fingers smearing saliva across your pouty, swollen lips, choking you with the large expansive of his hand. you wish there wasn’t a part of you that wanted this. a part that wants to submit to the handsome stranger, that wants him to grip you tighter. you’re disgusted with the way your body betrays you, but your self-loathing doesn’t stop the way you arch your back for more praise.
his fingers trail back to your cunt, this time slipping underneath the waistband of your panties, immediately finding your clit.
a choked pant escapes you as you moan out, “w-wait–”
his fingers don’t stop, rubbing sensual circles into the swollen, overly needy bud. “hmm? what is it, baby?” his voice takes on a patronizing tone and your body tremors with desire at the sound.
“y-you can’t– fu-fuck,” you don’t anticipate the speed at which he rubs your cunt to increase, so it catches you off guard when he does. whatever protest dies on your tongue in favor of letting out clipped moans and choppy gasps.
“don’t fight it.” he whispers. “just take it, sweet girl. i can feel how needy you are for me. boyfriend doesn’t take care of you the way you need and that’s why you’re out here grinding all over a stranger's fingers, right?”
you didn’t even realize you started grinding again, but you don’t feel the shame and embarrassment this time. maybe he’s right? maybe… just maybe… you need this. you love your boyfriend. adore him, but… this feels so fucking good.
you’re barely audible when you beg, “please…”
and the man chuckles darkly, “what was that?”
your labored breathing and desperate whines makes his cock twitch under his pants. “oh, god… fuck, please—” you sob.
he’s not accepting it. you can cry all you want, no one’s coming out to this alley this late and he’s not giving you anything until you ask for it. the stranger was a patient man, that much you can tell, so you have no choice but to submit.
his mouth is right over yours, lips mere millimeters apart as his words ghost over you. his words are barely there, but you hear them. you feel them. “say it. tell me what you want, baby.”
“more…” you whisper.
“again. louder.”
your words are choked out of you when he grips your throat tighter. “more, please… please!”
and before you can process it, his mouth is molding against yours and two fingers slide to your drooling hole and slip right in without a bit of resistance. he works you open, coaxes every noise out of you, like he knows the map of your body.
the pads of his fingers hook inside of you and rub against the spongy spot where your g-sport resides. he swallows every moan, every cry, every little plea that falls from your kiss-swollen lips.
the hand around your throat squeezes you tight enough to where you can breathe, but you can’t think straight. to where your eyes are rolling back and any rhyme or reason slips from your mind.
when he pulls away, you’re chasing his mouth, gasping for air watching him smirk through your bleary vision.
“silly girl,” he mutters, fucking you with his fingers with haste, like his life depends on it. “tell me, who’s got your pussy all wet, huh?”
“ugh, shit—you!” you cry, hearing the echo of your moans and the wet squelching of your cunt.
he nods, “that’s right, good girl,” his praise lightens you up and you wonder how you let yourself get here, but you don’t have the opportunity to dwell before you find yourself close. you feel the orgasm building quickly, feeling it in every nerve ending in your body. “gonna cum on my fingers, hmm? getting finger fucked in public by a stranger must feel sooo good, huh?”
you can’t even respond with the sob that comes out of your mouth as you gush all over his fingers. the man can’t help but laugh, part in shock and part because it’s ironic. it’s so funny that this may be the biggest orgasm you’ve ever had and you didn’t want it to begin with.
he releases the grip he has on your throat and pulls his fingers out of your sopping heat and allows you to collapse in his arms, laughing louder when you clutch onto his muscular arms.
“uh-uh, no tapping out, i’m not done with you,” he tsks, fixing your posture and gently resting your limp body against the hard wall. he unzips his pants and you watch with unfocused eyes as he pulls his length out, eyes widening as you take in his size.
you shake your head, voice half gone when you say, “n-no— won’t fit. can’t,” your sentence is broken, mouth salivating thinking about how good this man’s cock would stretch you.
he pushes your skirt up more and pulls your panties down, letting them pool helplessly at your feet on the ground. you put your hands on his chest in attempts to push him away, but you don’t put even an ounce of effort into your shove.
“your mouth says one thing, but your body says the opposite.” he says, lifting one of your legs and pinning your knee to your chest. “you're dripping for me, pretty girl.”
you gasp as the bulbous tip of his cock pushes into you, stretching you till you’re trapping him tight in your heat. he groans, the sound shooting heat straight to your core and it has your cunt choking around him like it’s never been touched.
“shit, sweetheart,” he grunts, forcing every inch of himself into you. “so damn tight, let me in, yeah? just be a good girl ‘n open up for me.”
and your body betrays you once more, submitting to him immediately. you know you shouldn’t, but your pussy lets him in like that’s exactly where his cock belongs.
maybe it is.
when his fat tip bumps your cervix, you let out a pained cry, arching your back off the brick wall. you wrap your arms around his neck, inhaling the mixed scent of sweat and cologne that belongs to him and it makes your head spin.
“no,” you moan into his skin. “i-i have a boyfriend.”
he offers another rich laugh, one that reverberates through his body. “sweetheart, you’re a bad actor, y’know?” he says and you hear the cocky smile on his lips. “you keep acting like you don’t want this, but you feel that?” his fist presses against your belly, pushing down on his cock. when you moan and tighten around him, he hums, “yeah, exactly. what would your boyfriend do if he saw you squirting all over my fingers earlier? or if he saw this pretty little cunt swallowing my cock, huh?”
you throw your head back, breath labored as your eyes cross. you should be disgusted with yourself. letting this man—this stranger—take you like this in public? while you’re in a relationship? it’s wrong. he’s wrong. you’re so wrong.
but you’re not sure you care. you don’t know if it’s the dopamine release from your previous orgasm or if it’s because you’re going dumb on his dick, but you couldn’t care less. you want him, you fucking want him. and you need him to make you cum.
“oh, god,” you sob through the ache— you’re sore, your entire body hurts from the way his cock pounds you in the uncomfortable standing position. “fuck, fuck, fuck,”
“there you go, be as loud as you want. no one will find us here.” he says seductively like he’s luring a mouse into a trap. “you like getting fucked like a slut by a stranger?”
and you’re so far gone, you find yourself nodding dumbly, “yes! love it,” you agree, slack jawed. when he hits that soft spot in you repeatedly with his brutal thrusts, you gasp, “o-oh! there, don’t stop, sy—hah, please don’t stop!”
he growls at the slip, hips stuttering. “pussy’s going to kill me,” he mutters before fucking into you with the vigor of someone whose life depends on it.
that knot in your stomach returns—faster, tighter, burning hotter than before. it coils deep inside you, pulling every muscle taut until your whole body feels strung like a wire.
“‘m gonna… fuck, ‘m cumming,” you mewl, hands twisting and tugging at his shirt.
“cum for me, baby.” he grunts.
and you do—it’s explosive, you’re gushing again, spraying a mix of arousal and release all over him. your body goes limp again, but he protects you from hitting the wall, securing an arm around your waist while his other has your leg draped over it.
“gonna fill you up,” he whispers, unable to trust his own voice. “gonna pump this pussy full of my cum, bet you’d like that, hm?”
he doesn’t really know why he bothers asking, he knows there’s nothing swimming around in your pretty head. when your whine comes out, so pretty and broken, he takes that as his answer, pushing all the way into you, stilling and spurting out ribbons of cum with a noise that’s between a grunt and a loud groan.
when the high fades, something shifts in him. the sharp, commanding edge he wore just moments ago melts away, replaced by a tenderness that almost feels out of place for where you are. his hands roam your skin, searching for any sign of hurt—scratches, bruises, anything.
when his worried eyes finally meet your half-lidded ones, the tension drains from his face. a lazy, crooked smile tugs at your lips as you whisper his name, “sylus.”
he exhales, a shaky sound of relief. “baby… are you okay? i didn’t hurt you, did i?”
you shake your head slowly, voice soft and hazy. “no… it was perfect. you were perfect.”
he lets your leg go from his arm and slips out of you and you immediately feel his warm release slide down your trembling thighs. you let out a breathless giggle, the sound melting into a sigh of contentment. he runs a gentle hand over your hair, smoothing stray strands back into place before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “you did so good,” he murmurs, voice low and warm. “so proud of you, sweetheart.”
“mmmh,” you hum, looking at him through your heavy, lidded eyes. “wasn’t this a great idea?”
he laughs, softly. “a crazy, risky idea? sure.”
“so we can do it again, right?” you ask hopefully, knowing full and well that the odds of sylus agreeing to this for a second time were slim.
“let’s go home and we can talk after a bath, okay?”
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