Deal with the Devil
Sylus x AFAB!Reader
It is almost midnight when I post this. I am... so tired 💀 I don't like the ending but I don't know how I'd fix it and I'm too tired to bother anymore teehee
Warnings: bruises, body dysphoria, chest binding, unsafe binding, teasing, pet names, possibly ooc
Word Count: 1,788
Main Masterlist
Love and Deepspace Masterlist
AO3
You bit the inside of your cheek to hide your wince as you passed the threshold of Sylus’s mansion. You were sure he already knew, with Mephisto always keeping an eye on you. You just hoped he didn’t know the full story.
You leaned against the wall and avoided looking down while you toed off your boots. The paint on the wall was as dark as the shadows in your worst nightmares. Your bruises would probably be just as dark.
“Welcome back, kitten,” Sylus greeted as he walked down the hall to greet you. “Was your apartment too far away?”
You shrugged noncommittally, but the sharp pain in your ribs nearly tensed your shoulder to permanently cover your ears. You hoped he wouldn’t notice. He would.
“This was closer.” Whether that was true or not, you have no idea. You don’t meet his eyes as you start to walk down the hall toward your room. There, you can take care of yourself in peace. “Go back to bed.”
He huffed, but there was very little amusement in the sound. His footsteps trailed right behind you. “Please, try not to sound so enthused, it’ll go straight to my head.” He tilted his head, white hair just catching the edge of your peripheral vision. “Your mission was a success, I presume, considering you’re still alive.”
You wished he’d just leave you alone. “Yup, a huge success,” you droned.
“No injuries, then?”
“If I say no, will you leave me alone?”
“If it’s the truth…” He pauses. You can hear the smirk in his voice. “No.”
“There’s no point answering, then.”
He chuckles. “You haven’t given me any incentive, kitten. How does leaving you alone benefit me, hm? There’s a give and take to these things, you understand.”
The climb up the stairs was agony. You tried not to let it show how bad your knees wobbled with each step, how you gripped the handrail like you were trying to strangle it, how your breath deepened as you struggled to catch it.
“I see you’re stubborn, as usual.”
You take larger steps to get to your room, despite the consequences. You turn the knob, rush in, and shove the door closed. Except, it didn’t close. That would mean the universe giving you even an ounce of luck today.
He pushes against the other side, effortlessly opening the door once more, even as you leaned against it with all your weight. It shuts with a light click, with Sylus on the inside.
“Show me,” he demands. You lean against the wall, panting through your nose and determinedly looking away. He sighs, irritated. “You can show me willingly, or I can tie you up and find out for myself. Your choice.”
You bite your cheek again. No matter how badly you wanted to keep it hidden away, keep your secrets close to your chest (literally), you could have gone to your apartment if you really wanted to keep it from him. It wouldn’t be hard to close yourself in a room with no windows, free from the prying eyes of that damned crow, and deal with it yourself.
And yet, you came here.
Despite his threat, he’s patient as he waits for you to make a choice. His red eyes seem to see right through you as they study your labored breaths, your minute giveaways of pain. Your hands trembled faintly by your sides, despite your subtle efforts to shake it away.
Eventually, you sigh. “Fine.” You don’t hide your wince as you push off of the wall, instinctively reaching for him for support. His hands grab your waist, keeping you upright. “Help me… take off my shirt.”
Sylus chuckles despite the tension in his brow as he helps you over to the bed to sit down. “Is it that difficult to ask for me to undress you?” He swiftly works to undo the buttons of your shirt.
His eyes flicker to every glimpse of exposed skin. There were ugly bruises, to be sure, but he’d never known you to let a few bruises slow you down. And yet he could see no sign of blood from an open wound anywhere. He frowns deeper.
“What were you fighting?”
You fiddle with your gloves, slowly working them off your fingers. “Just some knaves.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Same knaves did this? Did you forget how to dodge, kitten?”
You glared up at him. Really, it was all the dodging that had caused this. If you’d had a partner, you’d probably be fine. You could have stayed at a distance and provided cover fire. But they’d shown up rather suddenly, without giving enough time to worry about finding a partner.
With the last button undone, Sylus lifted your left arm and carefully slid the long sleeve off your body, before repeating it with the right. He dropped it beside you on the bed.
“Don’t tell me you wore that while you fought.” His voice was so low, threatening. It was almost a growl.
“I didn’t have time to take it off before the fight,” you defended yourself. You toss your gloves aside and reach under your chest binder to feel your ribs. The rough fabric rubbing against your skin as you jostle it feels like sandpaper, grating away at your flesh. You wince again, trying not to shift too much. “This is just a minor fluke; it won’t happen again.”
He scoffed. “Yes, a minor fluke. And how long do you wear it for, day by day? I’m sure you take breaks, right?”
“I take breaks!”
“Sweetie, one or two minutes with it off does not make up for hours with it on.” He goes to grab the wide straps of the binder.
You swat his hands away, staring up at him with wide eyes and covering your already-covered chest. “I’m naked under this!”
He leans forward, face close to yours as he grabs your hands and pulls them away. “Please, don’t tempt me, sweetie. You’ve already run my patience thin.”
“I can take it off on my own.”
“Really? You can’t take off your shirt by yourself, but you can lift your arms and wriggle out of a compression binder all on your own? It’s a miracle.”
He doesn’t wait this time for you to approve before he grabs the straps and starts working the binder over your head. You try not to fight him, but being exposed in front of Onychinus’ leader wasn’t exactly on your bucket list.
He alternates between pulling at the straps and the bottom hem, though he’s careful for now not to touch your skin. He thinks if he does, your face would go from pink to crimson in a heartbeat.
Once the stiff fabric is over your head, your arms are maneuvered slowly through the arm holes. It finds a place on top of your discarded shirt.
He doesn’t ask before grabbing the sides of your ribcage.
“Sylus!” you scold. When you try to push an arm away, he only holds on tighter, making you hiss.
“The sooner I’m certain you haven’t broken anything, the sooner you can get dressed.” His face is tense with concentration as he feels along each rib, head shifted from side to side as he checks the dark bruises painting your skin.
He was right: your face is bright red.
He steps away after a minute and heads to the closet. “Nothing feels broken, but you’ve bruised your ribs. Which means,” he returns with an oversized shirt and begins helping you into it without prompting, “you’re sticking around for a while, kitten.”
“I can’t,” you dismiss, fluffing the shirt in the front to hide your chest. “I have work.”
“Hm. Who’s that doctor friend of yours? I’m sure he’d be delighted to lock you in a hospital room for a few weeks.”
You glare up at him. “You wouldn’t.”
He makes a show of pulling out his phone and clicking through it. He turns the screen toward you for a second, long enough for you to process Zayne’s contact. He clicks the call button and brings it up to his ear.
You scramble to stand on the bed and pull the phone from his hand. He lets you, smirking with smug triumph as you end the call and toss the phone up by the headrest. You’re eye-to-eye with him as you pour all your anger and hatred into your stare.
“Three weeks bedrest,” he says.
“Two.”
“Three.”
You breathe in deeply through your nose, wondering if your hands would fit around his neck.
“Maybe the deal isn’t sweet enough for you?” he muses with a head tilt. “If a flat chest is really your desire, I’ll have the best surgeon in the field here to consult you as soon as you’re healed.”
Your breath caught in your chest. “Wha-” You grabbed onto his shoulder to keep yourself from falling. “Are you serious? But- But the surgery is so expensive!”
He chuckles. “Sweet, you insult me. Now…” He steps closer, running his fingers over your jaw. “Do we have a deal?”
The phone began ringing behind you.
You searched his eyes for any sign of a bluff, but came up empty. Slyus was nothing if not a man of his word. And he did have the money; you remember him telling you to bid higher at the auction when you were first getting to know each other. That sort of cash would take you several months of saving up every cent of your paycheck.
The deal felt too good to be true. “What do you get out of this?”
“Aside from making sure you’re not going to irreparably injure yourself one day?” He hummed. “Nothing at all. Think of it as a gift, if that makes you feel better.”
A gift… Could you really accept something so grand?
Your fingers mindlessly tap against his shoulder. You sigh, the feeling of defeat and elation warring inside you. “Deal.”
His hand moved from your jaw to you chest and pushed, plummeting you into the soft expanse of bed behind you. You cried out as gravity took hold, bouncing on the mattress. You blinked and Sylus was right over you, one hand beside your head keeping himself propped up while the other reached to grab the still-ringing phone. He accepted the call and put it to his ear.
Your heart raced. Did he lie to you? You could hear the muffled voice of Zayne reciting his standard hospital greeting.
“Sorry, I called the wrong number.” He didn’t wait for a response before hanging up. The phone was slipped back into his pocket before he caged you in completely. “Don’t look so scared, kitten. I keep my promises.”
