#l&ds mc

[mayweholdhands]

Sleep so good you wake up disoriented

[kandavers]

Rafayel’s equivalent of “You cheated on me in my dream”

[navydoves]

Dragon!Sylus and his strange affectionate habits

❥ you’re his mate, but you’re also human. his habits weird you out!

⭐︎

❥ he licks you! you could be sitting on the couch, minding your own business with a book in hand and sylus would come up right next to you and just start licking your cheek. you’d retract suddenly and look him up and down with a strange look on your face.

“what? i already explained this to you kitten.”

licking is his way of showing affection toward you. it’s supposed to tell you “i’m here to protect you” in a way. he also just loves tasting your skin and becoming more familiar with you since it brings him so much comfort. he’ll even lick your hair if he’s really getting into it!

❥ he feeds you really well. hungry? no you’re not, not with him at least. he’ll feed you until you’re completely and utterly satiated from his meals. when he sees you happy and drowsy from a full stomach it brings him very deep satisfaction.

sometimes he’ll put bags of snacks or containers of food where you frequent in hopes you’ll eat them. if you don’t, he’ll take offense or think he did something wrong and now you’re protesting!

❥ he makes you wear his treasures. part of being a dragon means hoarding pretty and shiny things. dragons are very protective and territorial about their things, but sylus makes an exception for you. he insists that you wear the jewels he’s collected and will drown you in his riches.

he especially loves it when you go out into public with his treasures on because it shows off his wealth via his beautiful mate. he’ll designate certain jewels or items just for you and if you’re even a little bit dissatisfied with them, he’ll throw them out right away.

❥ he builds nests for you. sylus will innocently steal your most precious items or the items that seem to bring you the most comfort and then bring them to an empty corner. it’s here that he piles up your cosmetics, clothes, bedsheets, pillows, stuffies—anything you could think of—and then he waits.

sylus would never force you to do anything, he wants you to come to the nest on your own volition without his input. he won’t even mention it, he’ll just wait until you find the nest and watch from afar what you do. if you finally do decide to nestle in, he’ll jump for joy knowing that you like it. he’ll also never come into your nest unless you ask him to, and if you do, let’s just say he’ll take care of you really well.

❥ he purrs, and really loudly too. you’ll hear him purring when you’re cuddling, when you’re eating, when you’re bathing, during sex, when you’re doing anything, really. dragons only purr when extremely content but sylus makes a habit out of it when he’s around you. the man is just very happy.

the sound of his purrs come from a deep place within his chest, making them loud and deep. even though they may startle you sometimes, the frequency and vibrancy brings you a sense of comfort and peace, and sylus knows this. whenever you’re upset or anxious, he’ll start purring loudly in hopes of calming you down.

❥ he walks around naked. of course, sylus only does this with you, but it never fails to catch you off guard. it’s not so much a sexual thing, per se, but more of a comfort thing. he’s so comfortable with your presence that he doesn’t feel the need to keep his tight, itchy clothes on when he’s alone with you. he’ll let everything hang and jiggle if he so calls for it.

although, there are times where he’ll purposefully walk around naked to seduce you like a peacock would. he thinks flaunting off his assets will make you want to pounce on him and make love to him all night—which is unfortunately true.

❥ he watches you while you sleep. at first it was cute, but when you awoke one night to his vibrant red eyes staring you down in the dark, it started to feel a little creepy. he explains it away by saying he needs to make sure you’re okay, which doesn’t really make much sense to you since you were in his secure territory.

because sylus doesn’t need much sleep, whenever you take your beauty rest, he feels the urge to look after you and your vulnerable form. he also just enjoys watching you do something so silly and human-like sleeping. this was one of your habits that he didn’t understand. he does finally back off a little bit after your complaining, though.

❥ he has a wild tail. sylus has full control over all of his body parts at any give time, so his tail is always indicative of how he’s feeling. he has a rather calm tail when you two are around others, but when alone with you? you have to dodge it sometimes from how erratic it is. he explains that it’s the equivalent of how your leg bounces. something you don’t even think about when it happens, but can have control over once you realize it.

it’s just another way of him saying to you that he’s comfortable enough around you to let loose with his body and do more natural, unconscious mannerisms.

[lvl1l1]

Sylus’ old draconic urges have been sanded down by time and control until they’re little more than faint echoes.

Most days he’s content to be the man who owns the N109 Zone.

But every spring, around the equinox when the city air turns thick with pollen and new heat, something ancient wakes up.

It starts subtle: restless pacing at three in the morning, red eyes glowing brighter in the dark, the shadow of wings he hasn’t had in centuries manifesting under the right light, under his back like phantom limbs. His voice drops half an octave. His touch lingers longer, heavier.

He doesn't say the word "rut," but you feel it in the way he crowds you against walls, in the way his teeth scrape your throat just shy of breaking skin, in the way he starts buying things.

Jewellery arrives in velvet lined boxes almost daily.

Thick chokers studded with black diamonds, heavy ruby drops that brush your collarbones, ropes of pearls so long they drape between your breasts like spilled moonlight. Gold cuffs that clank against each other when you move, rings stacked three deep on every finger, a delicate golden headband that sits like a crown, then a proper tiara, ruby and onyx, sharp enough to draw blood if you're careless. He clasps each piece on you himself, fingers reverent, eyes dark with something older than love.

“You look like a treasure,” he murmurs against your ear one night, voice rough as gravel. “My treasure.”

And you’re already dripping by the time he finishes adorning you. The weight of it all, cold metal warming against fevered skin, gems catching every flicker of lamplight, makes you feel obscene, decadent, claimed in a way that has nothing to do with words.

He doesn’t bother with the bed this time.

He backs you against the full length mirror in the bedroom, spins you so you’re facing your own reflection: flushed cheeks, lips swollen from earlier kisses, body glittering like a dragon’s hoard brought to life. Multiple necklaces layer over your throat and chest, diamond choker tight against your pulse, heavy pearl rope slung low across your shoulders, the long gold chain he draped between your breasts earlier now swaying with every shaky breath. Bangles slide down your wrists, rings bite into your fingers where you brace against the glass. The tiara tilts slightly when he fists your hair.

“Look at yourself,” he growls, voice vibrating through your spine. One hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise; the other guides his cock to your entrance, teasing once, twice, then sinking in with a single brutal thrust that punches the air from your lungs.

Everything clinks.

The sound is obscene, metal on metal, gems knocking together, bangles sliding, chains swaying, the tiara shifting against your scalp with every snap of his hips. He bottoms out and the long gold necklace drags across your sternum, cool links sliding over heated skin. The pearl rope slips lower, heavy beads rolling against your breasts. Every time he pulls back and slams home again the jewellery answers: clink-clink-clink, rhythmic, filthy, like coins spilling across stone.

You watch it all in the mirror, his silver hair falling into his eyes, the way his eyes shine like blood, the way his jaw clenches when you clench around him. His thrusts are deep, punishing, possessive; each one drives the breath from you in sharp gasps, makes the necklaces jump and settle, makes the tiara slip until he reaches up to fix it with bruising fingers.

“Mine,” he snarls against your shoulder, teeth grazing the place where neck meets throat. “Every fucking piece of you. Every sound. Every mark.” He punctuates the last word with a grind that has you seeing white, the head of his cock pressing right against that spot that makes your knees buckle.

You try to answer something coherent, something pleading but all that comes out is a broken moan. The jewellery keeps clinking, relentless, underscoring every wet slide, every slap of skin on skin. Pearls drag across your chest, gold chains catch on your nipples, bangles slide up your forearms when you reach back to clutch at his thigh.

He fucks you like he’s trying to imprint himself into your bones.

When you come it’s sudden and shattering, back arching, jewellery rattling like a broken chandelier, a high keening sound tearing from your throat. Sylus follows seconds later with a guttural curse, burying himself to the hilt and spilling hot and deep, hips jerking through the aftershocks while the chains and beads keep chiming softly against cooling skin.

He doesn’t pull out right away.

Instead he wraps both arms around you from behind, chin hooked over your shoulder, red eyes meeting yours in the mirror. His breathing is ragged, right eye glowing. One hand drifts up to adjust the tiara again, gentler this time, then trails down to toy with the pearl rope draped across your collarbone.

“Beautiful” he says, voice hoarse, almost vulnerable beneath the growl.

You reach up, fingers tangling in his hair.

The jewellery clinks once more when you turn your head to kiss him.

Outside, spring keeps turning.

Inside, the ancient thing in his chest finally quiets again.

For now.

[crimson--soul]

📜 Bhāvāchākrā: The Foundational Lore

Many folks unfamiliar with Asian mythologies have expressed confusion regarding the addition of another LI. Truth be told, the existence of 6 LIs was part of the narrative’s design from the very beginning. This is because the story’s foundational lore is deeply rooted in Vedic and Buddhist traditions. And numerous elements of it’s worldbuilding, symbolisms, and structure draw inspiration from these scriptural and philosophical sources.

“Love And Deepspace” is a story about the perpetual cycle of संसार (Saṃsāra). As the MC, we are trapped within the cycle of never-ending suffering across countless lifetimes and timelines. Our journey is to break free from this eternal cycle, and transcend the suffering that binds us to it. The LIs are not merely romantic interests, but essential companions in that pursuit.

Each of them carries a unique connection to the MC across time, and each plays a vital role in guiding her towards the resolution of this long-standing Kārmic entanglement. It is precisely for this reason that all of them exist within the current timeline simultaneously. Their presence is neither arbitrary, nor accidental. It is a fundamental part of the narrative’s deeper mythological and philosophical framework.

To understand the purpose of the LIs, one must first understand the cycle of Saṃsāra: भवचक्र (Bhāvāchākrā). This cycle of existence which encompasses birth, suffering, death, and rebirth is divided into 6 Realms where sentient beings reside in. Each of these Realms is intrinsically linked to one of the LIs featured in the game —

🔥 Rafayel: देवलोक (Devālokā)

God Realm of pleasure and pride

🏹 Zayne: असुरलोक (Asurālokā)

Demi-God Realm of jealousy and strife

🗡️ Xavier: मनुष्यलोक (Mānuṣhyalokā)

Human Realm of opportunity and enlightenment

🌕 Valko: पशुलोक (Pāśhulokā)

Animal Realm of instinct, fear, and servitude

🩸 Sylus: निर्ऋतिलोक (Nirṛtilokā)

Underworld Realm of chaos and decay

🪷 Caleb: प्रेतलोक (Pretālokā)

Hungry-Ghost Realm of endless insatiable hunger

As we know, each LI possesses unique abilities and latent potential beyond their Evols, granting them the power to create, shape, preserve, or dismantle whatever they deem necessary. The intricate Strings of Fate connecting the LIs to MC was deliberately woven by CosmicMC Herself.

It’s purpose was to ensure that Her vessel on Earth could draw upon Her true power through all 6 Realms, with the aid of every LI. Only by uniting these connections can She access the fullness of Her divine potential, and ultimately shatter the endless cycle of anguish that has bound Her across countless lifetimes.

Needless to say, it is unlikely that any additional LIs will be introduced to the game. With Valko’s arrival, the narrative now possesses all the pieces it was designed to have from the very beginning, allowing the story to finally move forward.

[⚠️ Please note: There are numerous realms of the Underworld described throughout Vedic scriptures. I chose to highlight the one that appears most relevant to Sylus’s storyline. Pretāloka is another such realm, and it has connections to Caleb’s narrative. If anyone is interested in Vedic mythology and would like to learn more about these realms beyond the context of the game, please feel free to ask. I would be delighted to share and discuss them further. 🤍]

🔖 I would also like to add that primordial cosmic entities, such as Gods, are not beings who concern themselves with the opinions or expectations of mortals. In that regard, CosmicMC is no different. Much of what has transpired throughout the narrative can be viewed as the manifestation of Her own will, unfolding according to a design far beyond mortal comprehension, much like the whims of Deities within the real world. To truly appreciate the lore presented in this game, one must approach it through a non-Abrahamic lens. And remain receptive towards Vedic and Pagan beliefs, philosophies, and cultural traditions.

[yois2aki]

caleb has a habit of tilting his head down when you're talking to him, especially when you're standing close. it's not dramatic, just enough to catch your gaze, brows slightly raised like he’s listening to you and only you.

it's the kind of look that makes you forget what you were saying for a second.

the worst part? he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. he'll lean an elbow on a table or rest a hand against a doorframe, letting his height naturally create that downward angle: eyes low-lidded, mouth relaxed, totally unbothered. and you'll just stare, cheeks heating up, heartbeat skipping.

and when he does know?

he tilts a little more, lowers his voice, and murmurs, “you were saying?”

yeah. he knows.

[atomics-creations]

Risky Deals

LaDS. Husband Valko x Wife Reader

In a limousine on your way to a risky business deal, the Chairman of EonCore Tech - your husband - is on his knees asking for your forgiveness.

1,021 words. fluff, light angst, late night conversations, kisses, f!reader, cross-posted on ao3

a/n: I cried writing this one. I miss Valko so much.

dividers by @saradika-graphics | ao3 link here

There is something so unbelievably charming about a man on his knees.

In front of you is your husband, the chairman of one of the most powerful corporations in all of Linkon, and he has your hand in his like it’s the only lifeline he can hold onto. You pretend not to notice the way his amber eyes look at you, nor do you succumb to the flame that burns within you at the sight of him in a three-piece suit. A man decorated in class and oozes intimidation would not be caught dead falling to his knees.

Except Valko, apparently.

“You’re wrinkling your suit,” you hiss when he shows no sign of sitting back down on the leather seats. There is comfort in every inch of this limousine, yet he chooses to kneel in front of you. “I don’t think you’d want to taint your public image.”

“I don’t care.”

You raise a brow at the unusual statement.

“I’ll be here until you forgive me.”

The tall skyscrapers that surround Linkon become your saving grace as you attempt to ignore his lips, which whisper apologies on your closed fists that can barely be heard above the soft music playing. However much you wish for those lips to touch places you would prefer to keep in the scenarios in your head is ignored, and instead, you turn your attention towards the life surrounding you.

Laughter erupts from a group of friends as ice cream melts on their hands. A couple holding grocery bags seems to be arguing about who should carry more, and in the end, the guy carries all of them in his hands and her pink purse hangs on his shoulder. A little dog shyly approaches another, their owners laughing at the blooming friendship.

Crazy how different your circumstances are compared to those around you.

“Sweetheart,” Valko says, and when you look at him, his eyes are similar to that shy dog you were just admiring. “Please, tell me what I can do so you can look at me again.”

“I am looking at you.”

His ears and cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink, and you resist the urge to follow its trail with your lips. 

“Yeah, but not… not like this.”

You know exactly what he means, yet you continue your torture. “How do you want me to look at you, sweetheart?”

The nickname undoes him, and his hands move from your closed fist to your cheek in a bold retaliation. “Like this.”

You look away as fast as you can.

From the corner of your eye, however, you can see a smirk on Valko’s face that disappears as fast as it came. God, does he even know why you’re mad? Does he know why your heart rapidly beats as a scowl makes its way onto your expression?

Valko, disappointed by his short-lived victory, stays silent for a few seconds. You know him well enough to understand that this is him pondering, his head tilting to the side the way a puppy does when it’s confused.

Moonlight softens his features a little too well, leaving your defenses as nothing but crumbs.

His wedding ring sits warmly on your cheek as you look back at him again. There are nothing but questions in his eyes and acceptance in the way his thumb rubs against your cheek, careful not to smudge hours of makeup and anger.

That’s the thing about Valko: he’s very obvious when he wants something, and he is incapable of hiding that. But when he knows not to interfere, his presence continues to be loud in quieter ways.

He knows exactly how to love you.

Linkon’s skyscrapers begin to look less like shopping malls and more like your personal hell. Buildings with surnames of wealthy business owners hide the moonlight that previously softened your husband’s features, and it even stops you from being so stubborn.

“We’re close,” Valko points out, as though your stomach doesn’t churn from the fact.

“Then why are you still on your knees?”

“Because you haven’t forgiven me yet.”

You tap his nose as some sort of retaliation for his stubbornness, yet he takes it as a sign of victory. Valko’s smile shines even beneath the night’s darkness, reminding you of the reason you were annoyed in the first place.

“I don’t want today to be the last time I see you, Valko.”

He tilts his head again, this time looking more like an older dog whose utmost trust shines in its eyes. “What do you mean?”

“When you come home late with bruises i-in your arms, I…” Your voice breaks, yet you know fragility has no place in this part of Linkon. “I worry about you, that’s all. And since we’re on our way to another business deal…”

Valko understands the words that crumble into silence. As lovely and desirable the position seems, being chairman of one of the biggest corporations in the country poses dangers only seen by those who have been in the dark, and you know that better than anyone else does. Better than he does, because only when you tend to his wounds does he remember that his absence matters. That life can be beyond the danger he’s gotten used to.

“This one is safe, my love,” he assures you. “I’ve mapped every detail, every person, and every centimeter of the place. I know where to run if I need to.”

“And if… if you lose yourself in the process-”

“I won’t,” he says, defiant as devotion can be. “Not when I have you with me.”

You can only smile as you press your forehead against his, finally looking at him with the tenderness he so loves to receive from you. “Promise you won’t die tonight?”

“I promise, sweet girl.”

The last thing you do before the limo stops at your destination is to place your lips on his, letting him taste the worries you’ve harbored with every risky deal he does. The last thing you feel before you have to step off into the night is his utmost love, spilling onto your soul like no other.

a/n: I hope Valko comes back soon.

Thank you for reading! Any form of interaction is appreciated. Take care :)

taglist: @aiycnlyme @potania @someonestopsoren @typicalme23 @crimsonrubie @sahxrii

[warlockslovetomeow]

mdni. explicit sexual content. street!racer sylus x mechanic!female reader.

streetracer!sylus who showed up at your garage with an obnoxiously blue Ford GT fresh off the lot and a cocky smirk that seemed to say he’d win you over before you even touched his car. you told him the color was a crime. he smiled and asked for a full wrap in midnight black, and after his very gracious tip, you never looked back.

streetracer!sylus who learned real quick that you weren’t just proficient at wrapping, you had magic hands under the hood too. he left that day with a perfectly wrapped GT, a surprise ECU tune that had his engine growling, and a raging hard on he had to take care of on the ride home.

streetracer!sylus who started racing harder just to wreck his shit enough to come crawling back to you. bruised bumper, cracked undercarriage, maybe something knocked loose that didn’t even matter. he’d invent the problem if it meant hearing you mutter his name under your breath while you worked.

streetracer!sylus who didn’t like sharing, especially not you. he'd lean against your workstation, arms crossed, watching you talk to other customers with a twitch in his jaw. that day he made you an offer: he'd pay your full salary, better hours, no more walk-ins and all he wanted in return was you. your time. your hands. your focus. exclusively his.

streetracer!sylus who starts bringing his car in for mods he doesn’t need, just to watch you straddle the hood and get your hands dirty, grease smudged on your cheek like a target he’s dying to mark. the tension between you is hot enough to ignite a fuel tank and he’s banking on that.

streetracer!sylus who corners you in the shop one night after locking the front early, the smell of engine oil thick in the air. he doesn't touch you, not just yet. only leans in close and murmurs, "i ever tell you how much I love watching you work?” while his eyes burn low and hungry. he’ll wait until you beg him to kiss you.

streetracer!sylus who takes you on a midnight ride, engine purring beneath you. his hand rests comfortably on your thigh, inching higher every time you shift in your seat when he takes a corner going impossibly fast. who dares you to ride him in the driver’s seat after pulling over on some desolate stretch of road, headlights cutting through the dark while you bounce in his lap and his hands bruise your hips to keep your pace.

streetracer!sylus who showed up right after a race, engine still hot, eyes hotter, with a fresh scratch on his cheek and a filthy grin. “fix me up, baby,” he said, but you weren’t sure if he meant the car or the burning pull between you. and by the time he had you bent over his hood, mouth full of dirty praise while his belt clinked to the floor, you knew it was never about the GT.

a/n: quick scratch that i hadddd to itch. this idea has been rotting in my mind for so long im debating on writing a full fic about it…