Synopsis: MC wants to spend the remainder of her life in Zayne’s arms, the place where she feels the safest. Sometime you really can’t mend a broken heart.
Warning: ANGST, no happy ending, character death, mentions of wanting to ‘let go’, it’s sad.
Authors note: I was inspired by @pearlymel ‘s fabulous story about a similar plot with Caleb and NEEDED to write on for Zayne.
Zayne sat in his office, his mind occupied with thoughts of his wife. He knew her condition was worsening and it was his responsibility as her husband and her doctor to keep an eye on her health. With a heavy heart, he picked up her medical file and began to review her latest test results.
His brow furrowed as he looked over the numbers and notes on the page, a mix of concern and guilt washing over him. “It's getting worse. Much worse...” he thought to himself, running a hand over his face tiredly.
He had known this day would come eventually, but he still felt like the ground was shaking beneath him. Her condition was degenerative, and despite his best efforts, her health had been declining steadily.
Zayne knew he had to stay strong for her. He couldn't let her see how much it was affecting him, but inside, he was a mess. He loved her so much, and to think that he might lose her...it was unbearable.
He took a deep breath, steeled himself, and shut the medical file. He had to focus on what was important: treating his wife. It was the least he could do.
Leaving his office, he made his way to her room, his steps heavy and slow. As he pushed open the door, his heart ached at the sight of her lying in bed, looking so small and fragile.
She had been admitted a few days ago after a sudden decline in her heart rate. Zayne kept a monitor on her wrist. When it had sent him the notification that her heart rate had dropped, he called an ambulance to have her brought to his hospital immediately
Zayne approached her bedside, taking in every detail of her appearance. She looked frail and drained, her hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. Despite her state, her eyes lit up when she saw him, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Hey," she croaked weakly, her voice hoarse and tired.
Zayne forced a smile, pushing down the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He perched on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in his.
"Hey yourself," he replied, his voice thick with a mix of concern and affection. "How are you feeling?"
She chuckled weakly, her grip on his hand loose. "Oh, you know," she said, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "Like a million bucks. Never been better."
Zayne couldn't help but let out a dry chuckle in response. His wife’s ability to joke even while being sick was one of the things he loved about her. "Of course. You're the picture of health," he said, his tone deadpan.
She looked at the medical file in his hands that contained her most recent blood test. “Give me the news, Doc.”
Zayne hesitated for a moment, his grip on her hand unconsciously tightening. He knew she didn't like being coddled and had always preferred straightforward answers. But this was different. This was bad.
He took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. "Your test results...they're not good," he said, his voice grave. "Your heart function has further declined. The medication isn't having the effect we hoped it would."
He watched as her expression faltered, her smile slipping away. He hated seeing her look like that, but he knew she needed to know the truth. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand.
Her lips trembled, her eyes welling up with tears. "It's getting worse, isn't it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Zayne nodded, unable to say the words out loud. Instead, he squeezed her hand tighter, feeling powerless in the face of her disease. "But we're not giving up," he said firmly. "We'll keep fighting."
She gave a choked inhale, looking out the window of her room. “I’m so tired though Zayne…I can’t go through more treatment…”
Zayne felt a pang in his heart at her words. He knew how hard her treatment had been on her body, and the idea of putting her through more, knowing it might not even work, was unbearable.
But he couldn't just give up. He was a doctor, and he had taken an oath to do everything he could to save his patients.
"I know it's hard, but we have to keep trying," he said adamantly. "There might be other options, other treatments we haven't considered yet."
She felt her jaw tighten, and she snapped.
"I don't want to try anymore!" she exclaimed, a sudden outburst of frustration and anger spilling out of her. "I'm tired, Zayne. I'm tired of being poked and prodded and having needles put in me. I just want it all to stop."
Zayne was taken aback by her outburst. He was used to seeing her strong and resilient, not breaking down like this. "I understand how you feel, but we have to consider the options available to us," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "There's still hope..."
She let out a bitter laugh. "Hope? What hope is there, Zayne? You’re a doctor. You know as well as I do that my condition is terminal."
Zayne felt a pang of helplessness at her words. She was right, and he knew it. He'd seen enough cases like hers to know the harsh reality. But he still couldn't accept it. "It's not over until we've tried everything," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "We need to exhaust all the treatment options before we give up."
She fisted her fingers into the bed sheets. She turned her face back to her husband with a trembling lower lip. “Please….just…just let my last few months be treatment free. We can do everything we’ve ever wanted to do….”
Zayne's heart shattered at her words. He knew what she was asking for, and the thought of letting her go without doing everything in his power to save her was agony. But at the same time, he could see the resolve in her eyes. She had made up her mind, and he knew he couldn't force her to keep fighting if she didn't want to.
He took a deep breath, his gaze never flinching from hers. "Okay," he whispered, his voice tight with emotion. "If that's what you want, we'll do it your way."
She saw the pain etched in his face, but she also saw the acceptance in his eyes. She knew this was hard for him, a doctor who had dedicated his life to saving people.
I'm sorry, her eyes seemed to say. She knew this was a decision he never wanted to make, but she was tired and she wanted her last few months to be lived, not spent in hospitals and waiting rooms.
With the decision made to focus on her happiness instead of her treatment, Zayne had been busy planning a special outing. Days turned into weeks as he prepared, careful to ensure it would be an unforgettable experience.
Finally, the day arrived. Zayne waited patiently for his wife, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and trepidation. He knew this outing would be significant, and he was nervous about how Odette would react.
He decided a carnival would be the perfect place to start off their adventure.
She looked up at him with eyes that were still vibrant despite her weakened state. The loud noises and smells of the carnival were overwhelming.
Her mouth opened to speak, when a little body collided with her abdomen. A little girl with pigtails in her hair, looked up at the couple with a trembling lower lip and watery eyes.
Zayne instinctively reached out to steady his wife, his hand resting on her arm. He looked down at the little girl who had run into them, surprise washing over his face.
"Are you alright, sweetheart?" he asked gently, kneeling down to the girl's eye level.
The little girl sniffed, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. She looked up at Zayne, her gaze flitting towards the woman. “I-I lost my mommy,” she mumbled through tears.
Zayne's concern deepened as he saw the little girl's distress. He looked around, trying to spot any sign of a worried mother. "Don't worry, we'll help you find her," he reassured her, his voice soft and calming.
The little girl clung to his wife’s leg like a lifeline. As if on cue, a young woman waved them down from across the pier, rushing towards the little girl. “Emma! I told you to stay with me!”
Zayne stood back up as the young woman approached, concern etched on her face. She looked relieved to see her daughter safe, but her attention quickly turned to the woman and Zayne. “Thank you so much for finding her. I only turned around for a second and she was gone!”
Zayne smiled, trying to reassure the young woman. “It’s alright, she found us,” he said, glancing down at the little girl still clinging to his wife’s leg.
The young mother knelt down, gently prying her daughter off of her leg. “Emma, what have I told you about running off?” she scolded, her voice a mix of relief and annoyance.
The woman looked at the couple with a relieved smile. “Thank you so much, I’m sure your kids are just as grateful to have such caring parents.”
Zayne felt a pang in his heart at the woman's words. He knew that he and his wife would never have children of their own, a sad but accepted reality in their situation.
He forced a small smile, not wanting to dampen the moment with his own feelings. "No problem, we're just glad we could help," he replied, his voice steady.
The woman nodded and gave them a final grateful smile before ushering her daughter away. Zayne turned to his love, noticing her pensive expression.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low. He knew seeing that little girl had likely reminded her of the motherhood they would never have.
She nodded, but her eyes were a little misty. "Yes, just thinking," she replied softly. She knew Zayne had wanted children someday, and she felt a twinge of guilt knowing she couldn't give him that.
Zayne's heart ached at the sight of her guilt-ridden expression. He reached out, gently grasping her chin and lifting her gaze to meet his. "Hey," he whispered, his voice tender. "None of that, okay? You have already given me everything I could have ever wanted."
Her eyes welled up with tears, touched by his words. She gave him a weak smile, trying to push down the wave of emotions that was threatening to overwhelm her. "You say that now, but-"
Zayne cut her off with a soft shake of his head. "No buts," he said firmly. "You are everything to me, with or without children. I don't want you feeling guilty about something that's out of our control."
He pulled her into a warm embrace, holding her close to him. "Now come on, we have a day of fun planned. No more sad thoughts, alright?" he said, trying to lighten the mood.
Several weeks had passed, and her condition had continued to decline. Every day, Zayne could see the toll it was taking on her body and her spirit. He did his best to make each day special, but it was becoming harder and harder to keep up the facade of normalcy.
Zayne had noticed that she slept more and more, her energy levels depleting with each passing day. Despite her weakened state, she tried her best to partake in their daily activities together, but he could see the exhaustion etched on her face.
Zayne stood in the makeshift clinic, his face creased with worry. He had set up the room to make it easier to treat his wife without having to go to the hospital every time. As he prepared the injection of pain medication for her, his hand trembled slightly. He hated seeing her in so much pain, but he couldn't let her suffer.
"Just a pinch, love," he murmured, gently inserting the needle into her arm.
He watched as the medication was injected into her system, noticing the almost immediate relief that washed over her face. Her features softened, and she let out a small sigh. It was a stark contrast from her usual distressed state, and it tugged at Zayne's heartstrings.
He set the empty syringe aside and sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in his. He was struck by how frail she looked, her once vibrant face now pale and drawn. It was a harsh reminder of the reality they were facing - that they were running out of time.
"How are you feeling, love?" he asked quietly, running his thumb over her knuckles. He knew he was asking the same question every day, but he couldn't help it. He needed to hear her voice.
"Better," she mumbled, her eyes half-lidded. The pain medication was working, and she had a moment of respite from the agony that consumed her body. "How do I look?"
Zayne's heart broke at her question. She was so concerned about how she looked, even in her weakened state. "You look beautiful," he assured her, his voice soft. "As always."
A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "You're such a liar," she said, chuckling weakly. Despite her words, there was a hint of vulnerability in her eyes, as if she was silently asking, "Do you really still think I'm beautiful?"
Zayne saw the question in her gaze and gently cupped her cheek. "I'm not lying," he said firmly. "You've always been beautiful to me, inside and out. And no matter what happens, that will never change. I love you, Y/n."
Her eyes welled up with tears at his words, her grip on his hand tightening. "I love you too," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm just...I'm just so scared."
Zayne's heart ached at her words. He knew she was frightened, and it pained him to see her so vulnerable. "I know, love," he replied, his voice cracking with emotion. "But I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere, you hear me? I promise."
She clutched his hand tighter, trying to hold on to the reassurance he was giving her. The fear of the unknown was a constant companion for her now, and it weighed heavily on her soul. But having Zayne by her side made it bearable, even if just a little bit.
Zayne's world had been reduced to the four walls of their home as he cared for Y/n without leaving her side. The once vibrant room they shared now resembled a sad hospital room, with machines beeping and a constant hum of medical equipment.
His wife’s condition had taken a turn for the worse, and Zayne's face was creased with worry as he sat by her bedside, holding her hand.
“I like this color…” she whispered, holding up her hand to look at the pretty blue nails Zayne had painted for her.
Zayne was a bit startled by her sudden statement, but he smiled weakly, happy to see her attention on something pleasant. "I'm glad you like it," he replied, moving closer to get a better view. "I wanted to make sure you were still getting pampered, even in here."
The truth was, he hadn't felt like he was doing enough for her. He blamed himself for not being able to cure her disease, for not being able to find a way to save her. But he pushed those thoughts aside as he watched her admire her painted nails.
"You always know how to make me feel pretty," she said softly, still fixated on the bright blue polish. Zayne could see the exhaustion in her eyes, but he also saw a spark of gratitude and appreciation for his efforts.
"That's because you are pretty," he replied, gently stroking her hair. "The prettiest girl I've ever known." Even though he was exhausted and emotional, he tried to keep his voice steady and strong for her sake.
She chuckled weakly, a hint of her usual humor shining through. "I must be the luckiest girl then, to have the best looking doctor as my husband." Despite her fragile state, she still managed to tease him.
Zayne couldn't help but chuckle softly at her words. She always knew how to lift his spirits, even in the darkest of times. "Flattery will get you nowhere, you know that," he said lightly, his hand moving to rest on her forehead.
“I’m fine Zayne…” she tried to weakly move her head to hide the fact she was burning up. “I just want to spend time with you.”
Zayne saw through her feeble attempt to hide her discomfort and frowned. "You're clearly not fine, love," he said gently, his hand still resting on her forehead. "Your fever is getting worse...why didn't you tell me earlier?"
Her cheeks flushed slightly at being caught in her lie. "I didn't want to worry you…" she mumbled, avoiding his gaze. But she knew there was no use hiding it from him; he could read her like an open book.
Zayne sighed, the weight of worry and responsibility settling heavily on his shoulders. "You know you can't hide things from me, love," he chastised softly, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. "I'm your doctor, but I'm also your husband. I need to know how you're feeling, even if it worries me."
She nodded weakly, her eyes drifting closed. "I know...I just...I just don't want to be a burden. I know I'm a mess right now, and I feel guilty for everything you've had to do for me..."
His heart ached at her words, and he gently squeezed her hand. "You're not a burden," he said firmly, his voice steady. "You could never be. It's my job to take care of you, and I willingly volunteered for it. Don't ever feel guilty about that."
His wife weakly turns her hand to the view outside of the spare bedroom window. The view was beautiful, a setting sun on the horizon. “Can you take me outside…?”
Zayne's heart skipped a beat at her request. He knew it wouldn't be easy to move her in her current state, but he was willing to do anything to fulfill her request. "Of course, love," he said softly, rising from his seat. "Let me prepare a few things first."
He quickly gathered a few essentials - portable medical equipment, pillows for support, and a wheelchair to help transport her outside. She watched him prepare with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She hadn't been outside in weeks, and the thought of fresh air and sunshine was tantalizing.
With everything prepared, Zayne returned to her bedside and helped her sit up slowly. She leaned against him heavily, her limbs weak and trembling. He held her close, supporting her weight as they maneuvered towards the wheelchair.
It took some effort, but they eventually got her settled into the wheelchair, with pillows propped up to support her weary frame. Zayne took a moment to check her vitals, making sure she was stable enough for the short trip outside.
Once he was satisfied that she was as comfortable as possible, he gently wheeled her towards the balcony of their home. The fresh air hit her face as they emerged onto the balcony, and a weak smile graced her lips.
She inhaled deeply, relishing the feeling of the cool evening air on her skin. The view from their balcony was beautiful - the sun was starting to set, casting a gentle orange glow over the city below.
Zayne positioned the wheelchair so that Odette could see the view, carefully monitoring her condition. "Is it alright?" he asked softly, his hand resting protectively on her shoulder.
She nodded weakly, her gaze fixed on the breathtaking scenery. "Yes...it's perfect," she whispered, her voice tinged with a mixture of bittersweet happiness and sadness. "Thank you, Zayne."
He smiled weakly, his heart swelling with a mix of happiness that he could fulfill her request, and sadness that this simple act was such a big deal. "You don't have to thank me, love. I'd do anything for you."
“Then let me die…” she whispered, looking at the sunset. “I’ve seen the way you’ve slipped medication in my drinks. How you’ve put medication in my IV when you think I’m asleep.” She isn’t upset, she turns to her husband.
Zayne's heart skipped a beat at her words, caught off guard by the fact that she had noticed his attempts to slow her decline. He froze, unsure of what to say, his eyes widened in shock and guilt. "I...I just wanted to-" his voice trailed off.
She knows... he thought to himself, his heart rate speeding up slightly. He hadn't intended for her to find out about the secret doses of medication he had been administering - it was a desperate attempt to slow her illness down, to prolong their time together.
But now, faced with her gaze, he couldn't deny it any longer. "I wanted to give you more time..." he finally admitted, his voice cracking slightly. "I couldn't bear to lose you.”
Her eyes softened at his words, and she reached out to take his hand in hers. "I know," she said gently. "I know you were trying to help, but Zayne...I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting, and I'm tired of being sick."
His throat constricted at her words, a deep sense of helplessness washing over him. He had spent so long trying to fight her illness, to find a cure, and now she was asking him to just...let go.
"I can't just do that," he said, his voice cracking. "I can't just give up on you. I'm supposed to be the one who fixes you."
She gave him a sad smile, her thumb gently rubbing over his knuckles. "You have done so much for me, Zayne. You've been my rock, my support, my everything. But this is one fight you can't win, no matter how much you try."
Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, and he had to force back the tears threatening to spill over. He knew she was right, deep down he knew there was no cure. He had been fighting a losing battle all along.
He couldn't bring himself to say anything, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions. He was supposed to be the strong one, the one who always had the answers and the courage to back them up. But now, faced with the reality that he couldn't save the most important person in his life, he felt lost and powerless.
"I'm tired of living like this," she said softly, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness and acceptance. "I'm tired of the constant pain, the constant struggle. I'm tired of the machines, the medications, all of it..."
Zayne felt a wave of helplessness wash over him. He wanted to argue, to tell her that a cure would be found eventually, or that she just needed to hold on a little longer. But he knew deep down that those were just empty promises, desperate attempts to cling onto a false shred of hope.
His heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces at her words. The thought of losing her was unbearably painful, and he felt like the ground was being pulled out from under him. "What am I supposed to do without you?" he whispered, his voice hoarse with pain.
She gently lifted his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. "You are going to live your life," she whispered, her voice firm but gentle. "You are going to be the amazing doctor that I know you can be. You're going to save so many lives, because that's what you do best."
He tried to argue, to protest that he didn't want to do any of that without her, but her words resonated with him on a deep level. Zayne had always been defined by his career, by his ability to save lives, and he knew she was right.
He knew she was right, but he couldn't help the selfish part of him that was willing to sacrifice her happiness for his own. "What if I don't want you to let go?" he asked, his voice almost pleading.
She looks back at the sunset with a soft smile. “You will. I love you so much. I’ll meet you on the other side though right?” Her sunken eyes flashed with a familiar warmth. “I’ll be waiting for you at the Cafe, yeah?”
Zayne wanted to protest, to tell her that he'd never be okay without her, but her words resonated in his mind. He couldn't help but remember the countless dreams they'd shared of running away from everything together.
"You promise me a coffee date on the other side," he whispered, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the pain in his heart.
“And macaroons.”
She added with a soft laugh. “I love you.”
"I love you too," he replied, his voice raw with emotion. His grip on her hand tightened as he tried to imprint this moment into his memory, wanting to hold on to every second they had left together.
~~
Zayne sat in the living room, staring blankly at the wall. The silence in the apartment was deafening, and the absence of his wife’s presence felt like a gaping void in his chest. He had never felt so lonely, even though physically, he wasn't alone.
The coffee table in front of him was littered with medical equipment and paperwork. He had spent the last few hours burying himself in work, trying to distract himself from the overwhelming pain and grief he was feeling.
But no matter how hard he focused on his work, his mind kept wandering back to her. He could see her in every corner of the apartment, hear her voice in every sound, feel her ghost hovering around him. It was like she was still there, but also so painfully absent.
Dr. Greyson had sent him a link of a new Café that had open in downtown Linkon. He knew his colleague was suffering, he constantly kept tabs on his fellow Doctor.
Zayne opened the link on his phone, scanning the pictures of the café. It was a cozy little place, with a warm atmosphere and a menu filled with a variety of drinks and pastries. He lingered on a picture of a quaint booth in the back, isolated from the other tables.
He couldn't help the pang of nostalgia that hit him as he looked at the picture. It reminded him of their café dates when they were younger, the memories almost tangible in his mind.
He let out a deep sigh, his thumb hovering over the link, hesitating. Part of him wanted to go, to bury himself in memories and maybe find a little comfort. But another part of him was terrified to face the world without her.
He closed his eyes, his thoughts swirling in a mess of conflicting emotions. "What am I doing...?" he muttered to himself, his hand tightening around his phone. He couldn't let grief consume him, he had to keep going for his sake and her sake. But just the thought of going outside and facing a world without her felt like an impossible task.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself as he made a decision. "I need to do this," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the cozy image of the booth in the café picture. "For her."
With a sense of determination, he stood up and shrugged on a jacket. His movements were mechanical, his mind on autopilot. He could feel the weight of grief and guilt pressing down on him like a heavy cloak, but he pushed through it as he locked the door behind him.
The journey to the café was a blur, like a dream he was half-aware of. The city streets were alive with people going about their lives, oblivious to his pain.
He arrived at the café, pushing the door open and stepping inside. The smell of freshly baked goods and brewing coffee hit him like a wave, the comforting scent momentarily taking the edge of his grief. He scanned the café, his gaze landing on the secluded booth he had seen in the picture.
But something else caught his attention.
This wasn’t just a cafe, it was a CAT cafe.
As he took in the sight of the numerous cats roaming around the café, he couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. Cats had always been a part of his and Y/n’s life, ever since they were kids. She had always had a soft spot for them, and he couldn't help but smile slightly at the familiar feeling of seeing the creatures roaming around the café.
He approached the table in the back, sitting down heavily and feeling a mix of emotions wash over him. It was like being transported back in time. For a brief moment, he felt like she was there with him, the same sense of calm and comfort that always washed over him whenever she was around.
He tried to focus on the surrounding activity. Customers chatting, cats meowing and playing. The sound of steaming milk and clinking coffee cups, the aroma of pastries and espresso beans, all adding to the ambiance of the café. It was calming in a way, grounding him in the present even if he still felt like he was in a living nightmare.
He dropped his head into his hands. Despite the soft music and soothing atmosphere, his heart hammered against his chest.
This was a mistake, maybe this was too soon. He should leave.
Just then, he noticed that one of the cats was making its way towards him. It was a cute calico, its curious eyes fixed on him as if it could sense his sadness and grief. The sight of the cat brought a small, sad smile to his lips, and he subconsciously reached out a hand to pet the soft fur.
The cat's fur was soft and warm beneath his fingers, and he found himself almost zoning out the world around him as he gently ran his hand through the calico's fur. It was an unconscious action, a simple, repetitive motion that somehow seemed to soothe his mind more effectively than any rational thought could.
His finger plucked at the name tag, and his chest tightened when he saw the name.
"Y/n..." he murmured softly, his fingers tracing the letters imprinted on the name tag. It was a simple name, but the significance to him couldn’t be understated. It was a connection to her, a tangible reminder that she was still with him in some way.
For a brief moment, he could almost imagine her hand stroking his hair, her gentle voice in his ear. But then he heard a soft meow, jolting him back to reality. The calico had nudged its way into his lap, purring softly, its attention seeking.
The grief inside of him broke, the ice of his heart melting away as he coddled the cat, holding it to his chest and releasing a string of tears into its fur.
He let his emotions flow freely, his tears soaking the soft fur. The simple act of holding the cat and feeling its warmth against him was strangely soothing, a small balm to the gaping hole in his heart.
Summary: Thirteen missed calls and twenty unread text messages. Not even Mephisto could track you. “You’re really starting to worry me here, kitten.” Sylus pressed the phone to his ear, eyes glued to Mephisto’s live feed as he soared through the N109 Zone’s darkest alleys, “If it was something I did, let me make it up to you.”
Tags: Sylus/Reader, gender-neutral, slight angst, hurt/comfort, reader is mc, established relationship
Word Count: 1.8k
A/N: requested by @hrts4hanniehae
read on ao3 | masterlist
Crystal clinked loudly against a mahogany table as Sylus put the empty glass down with a seething glare. He would’ve slammed it were it not for your sleeping form just several feet away, however. Your chest rose and fell under his satin sheets, and he counted each breath like a rosary bead; you’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine. He unstopped a priceless bottle of whiskey and poured himself another drink, but the tremor in his hand sloshed amber liquid over the sides. Sylus huffed but didn’t bother wiping up the mess. Instead, he downed the whiskey in one go and squeezed his tired eyes shut. The burn was nothing compared to the chill down his spine when he found you.
Thirteen missed calls and twenty unread text messages. Not even Mephisto could track you. “You’re really starting to worry me here, kitten.” Sylus pressed the phone to his ear, eyes glued to Mephisto’s live feed as he soared through the N109 Zone’s darkest alleys, “If it was something I did, let me make it up to you.” The begging in his voice grew more obvious as the voicemails went on, “—Please. Just let me know you’re okay.” Sylus drew closer to the hologram, helpless, as Mephisto investigated another possible location, “I can’t…” Another dead end. The mechanical crow cooed softly before swooping into another street, and Sylus heard his voice catch in his throat, “...I can’t feel you anymore.”
Beep. The call ended, leaving a loaded silence in its wake.
He considered leaving yet another voicemail when Mephisto turned a sharp corner and pointed his eyes at a dark figure slumped against a wall. No, no, no. His worst fears were realized when the crow perched himself on your knee and cawed loudly, as if scolding you for causing so much trouble. Then his lens panned over the blood. So much blood. Sylus couldn’t recall the ride there, which car he took, how fast he was going. Trivial details, to be frank. Your name was the only thought in his mind, the only language he understood—you, you, you. Sense returned to him when he clutched your limp body in his tight embrace, and you groaned weakly in his arms. “I’m here,” Sylus sighed against your ear, “Always here.”
The sheets of his bed rustled as you shifted your weight, and Sylus shot you a look. “Sylus,” You called weakly, and winced as you sat up.
“Don’t lean on your arm.” Despite your discomfort, his narrowed gaze remained fixed on the empty glass in his hand. He made no move to approach you, “You’ll disturb the bandages.” Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you take note of the gauze wrapped around your bicep. The bleeding stopped a while ago. “That wanderer missed your artery by a hair,” Sylus drawled, and your confused gaze met his cold look, “Your luck never ceases to amaze me.” Then he stood, your confusion morphing into panic, “Let Mephisto know if you need anything.”
“Sylus, wait—” You outstretched your hand, the bandaged one, and immediately hissed in pain. Sylus froze, but like before, remained where he stood, “How long have I been out?”
His lip twitched. “Three hours now,” A beat, then he was reaching into his pocket, “Here.” Your phone bounced against the mattress at your feet, and Sylus watched you pick up the shattered screen. Wincing, you turned it on, and he quietly studied your distress.
“I’m sorry,” You began softly, but Sylus forced his eyes to the floor. He couldn’t stand the guilt in your eyes, “I got so caught up I didn’t—”
His raised hand cut you short, “Don’t.” And he turned away sharply, “Just focus on resting.” The lump in his throat was difficult to swallow around, so he grabbed the leftover whiskey and rushed out.
Cooling down with some vinyl records had been his first instinct. Dusting them off, running his fingers over the plastic covers, then finally settling on just one. Fretting over their display was a nervous habit of his, his go-to when he needed a distraction. But it proved too difficult to position the needle correctly with trembling hands, and Sylus watched the needle stutter over the grooves with a grimace. Instrumentals kicked in over the stereo quietly, but it still wasn’t enough to drown out his swirling thoughts. He should be with you right now. Tending to your every need and shushing you gently to get some rest. Instead, he hid away with his records, inhaling and exhaling to relax the tight ball in his chest. You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine.
He repeated this useless prayer to himself to prevent other thoughts—darker thoughts—from bubbling up. It didn’t work, though. “Sylus?” His eyes widened at the sound of your voice, before they suddenly narrowed in suspicion. As if on cue, Mephisto breezed to his perch in the corner of the room, and Sylus shot the crow a withering glare. So much for keeping you away from him, damn bird. Mephisto only pricked his feathers innocently in response. Your bare feet then padded across the room, but Sylus refused to turn around. You shouldn’t have to see him like this. “Sylus, would you please look at me?” You insisted again, stronger this time, “Are you angry?”
Usually, he craved your bluntness. Right now, he resented it. “I should have locked him in his cage.” Your steps drew closer, and Sylus concentrated on the spinning vinyl.
Your tired sigh gripped his heart. “I heard your voicemails,” You announced quietly, “It’s…It’s okay if you are. You have every right to be.”
It’s just so like you to put his feelings first. As if he had been the one bleeding in an alley for hours. Sylus pinched the bridge of his nose, “And if I was?” He turned to face you, finally, and noted the half-step you took back. Sylus couldn’t help the scowl that tugged at his lips, “Why aren’t you?”
You frowned at him and rubbed your arm distractedly. “I…feel bad for making you worry. I’m sorry, and I totally understand where you’re coming from.” You then tugged nervously at your clothes, avoiding his sharp gaze, “I would be angry with me too, believe me. Especially after I said I’d be more—”
Sylus couldn’t help it, a humorless laugh erupted from his bitten lips. You only stared in bewilderment as he raised a hand to cover his mouth, “Angry at you…?” He shook his head as another wave of trepidation passed through him, “You misunderstand,” Then his voice fell ominously low, “I’m not angry at you.”
Surprise gripped your expression, “I don’t understand, then. Why are you angry?”
“Why?” It was Sylus’ turn to give you a bewildered look, “Why?” The answer was so obvious, he almost felt ridiculous spelling it out for you. Through gritted teeth, he tried anyway, “Because I failed to protect you, that’s why.” That lump in his throat returned, so he promptly shut up. His words clung to the air for several moments, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off you now. A flurry of emotions overwhelmed you; perhaps you were realizing that, yes, he did fail you tonight. That realization never quite reached your eyes, though. Instead, you slowly shook your head before falling back to get comfortable on his couch.
“Come sit with me.” You patted the area next to you and watched him expectantly. Sylus stared. You always did find new ways to surprise him, somehow. He fought three wars in his head—before losing them all—and hesitantly took his place by your side. The big, bad Onychinus leader avoided your soft gaze. “What happened tonight, neither of us is to blame.” Your voice fell hush, and he didn’t need to look at you to know you saw right through him, “You can be angry, but please don’t hold a grudge.” You scooted yourself closer to take his hand in yours, and his eyes numbly flicked to your linked fingers.
“If Mephisto hadn’t found you…I didn’t know what to think.” His voice trailed off, and he swallowed thickly, “Your aether core. I couldn’t feel it.” His thumb caressed yours gently, “Fear like that isn’t easy to forget.”
Guilt brimmed in your eyes again, and he wished he hadn’t said anything. “You found me,” You began fiercely, “And I’m okay now, thanks to you. Because of you. You could never fail me.” Your words only deepened his scowl. It should never have gotten to that point in the first place. You should never have been in that position—alone. Your interlocked hands tightened, “Sylus…” Your murmur, spoken like a wish, was accompanied by a sudden warmth between your palms. He inhaled sharply as he watched your hands glow, evols linking as you resonated with his. The feeling was difficult to explain. Resonating with you blanketed him in a warmth like no other, like he was morning dew glowing under the rising sun. Like it was the first and last time he’d ever feel sunlight. You were alive. You were well. And if you harbored any ill will toward him, then resonating wouldn’t have come so naturally to you. He’s glad it did.
The resonance ended all too soon, however, and the light of your evols dimmed to nothing. Sylus’ record played softly in the silence. “Thank you,” He murmured at last, feeling calm for the first time that evening, “...And I’m sorry.” You made it difficult to stay upset. You had no idea how much power you held over him—over his mind and body alike—how easily you could mold him like putty in your precious hands. Right now, though, you guided those precious hands to his chin and looked him over properly. The dark circles, the disheveled hair, the cracked lips; you drank all of it in and let worry settle in the crease of your brow. He hid his embarrassment behind wisecracks, “Like what you see? A picture might last longer.”
You shot him a look, “You should take a shower, you’ll feel better.” Your expression then softened, and your thumb caressed the side of his smirking mouth, “But hurry, so you can join me in bed.”
He swore he felt traces of your evol smoldering within him, “Easy, kitten, you’re still recovering.”
Amusement sparkled in his ruby eyes when you abruptly pulled away, flustered, “You know what I meant!” Tsk, it was too easy sometimes. Sylus tried and failed to hide his smile before unexpectedly lifting you off the couch, “Sylus—”
“I’ve got you—yes, I do, now stop squirming,” Hanging on with your good arm, Sylus held you tighter than he’d ever done before. Letting you down would never be an option again. “Save the struggling for later, sweetie.” You merely huffed and settled into his secure embrace, but your free hand clutched his shirt just as tightly. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
decades after the destruction of judgement day, you return to the abyss meadow—now an empty wasteland. a painful walk down memory lane has you remembering all the sinful things sylus did to you on the day he’d brought you to the blooming field of blood-red datura.
━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: dragon!sylus x female reader (afab)
━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings/angst, angst with slight/no comfort (depends how you want to look at it), fluff, continuation of myths
━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 15.9k
━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, dragon!sylus, two dicks!sylus, dom!sylus, monsterfucking, HEAVY SPOILERS and references to sylus’s lore/myths (beyond cloudfall), themes of depression/trauma/loss of a loved one, marking (scratching and biting) and possessive behavior, implied virginity loss (both mc and sylus), slight BARELY coercion (trust me mc is more than willing), p in v, fingering with claws, eating out, face riding, horns as handlebars, belly bulge, belly swelling from cum, double penetration (in v), slight bondage with sylus’s tail, no protection, breeding kink, talks of mating and pregnancy, multiple orgasms, somewhat angst no comfort (depends how you look at it), has some comfort, some fluff, lots and lots of smut, knotting, fucking with knot, lots of overstimulation, boobie play, lots of making out, lots of biting, use of Y/N, use of petnames (sweetheart, little dragon, dove, sparrow, love, sorceress), slight references to ‘please & thank you’ fic (easter egg dialogue hehe), will add more warnings as needed
━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: wasteland song - has arcane spoilers (please listen to before reading) | wasteland song - no arcane spoilers | beyond cloudfall myths | ao3
━ ✧.˖ A/N: helloooooo she is finally here jfc. first and foremost PLEASE listen to the song linked above before reading as it was a HEAVY inspiration for the angst portion of the fic, as well as parts of the fluff. of course it’ll still make sense without watching and listening but i think it’s much more impactful with, otherwise the lyrics are whatever haha.
the song is wasteland - royal & the serpent from the netflix series arcane by riot games! highly recommend watching if you haven’t :)
secondly, this fic contains HEAVY HEAVY spoilers and references to ‘beyond cloudfall’ - sylus’s second myth set, which i’ve also linked above. if you haven’t done those and care about spoilers, i would not recommend reading this. also it won’t make as much sense if you don’t know what happened in those myths, but the smut still makes sense re: sylus is a dragon.
please enjoy <3 i will admit this was really difficult for me to finish, i don’t know what it was, i lost steam half way through and really had to force myself. i am not 100% happy with the way it turned out, but i also did really enjoy writing it! i think i cried multiple times writing this lmao
will likely be on a writing hiatus. if i do write it will be for caleb :D until next time friends. i love you <3
THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.
✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖
♫ I've held on for as long as I can,
For the ones that I had to defend,
I've been strong every day of my life,
If she wants, death could take me this time. ♪
♪ This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow,
I used to have strength, but I ran out of hope,
I know it's my fault that I'm here all alone,
This world is a wasteland,
Please let me go, go, go, go, go, go, go. ♫
♫ If I could just lay my head down and rest,
If there was nothing to fight or protect,
Maybe then I could finally be free,
Maybe death is like falling asleep. ♪
Hollow requiems echo in the recesses of your numbed soul, overtaken by the howling of the violent wind. Your heels crunch against barren ground, covered in fragments of basalt and granite, a speckled sea of death.
It was hard to imagine that this very valley was once covered in countless blossoming blood-red datura, peppered across the vast green fields of the meadow. Like the twinkling stars in the open night sky you’d spent many hours staring up at, atop the cliff top lair you briefly called home, years ago.
The memory of the blooming flowers, nestled against the stark contrast of those powerful ebony horns, the faint notes of requiems once sung under the gleaming moonlight, taunt you as they resonate in your aching mind. Your tail flickers, soul clenching in distaste.
Or perhaps it was your fragmented, barely-beating, heart. It was hard to tell these days.
You draw a shaky breath, willing your body to continue forward. It’d been decades since you’d last come here. After the events of the last Doomsday, events that you were all too familiar with, Philos had fallen to chaos and ruin. Tarus City was no exception.
And of course, the meadow had not been spared.
Guilt gnaws at you, clawing deeper than any beast ever could. The meadow–the resting place of your beloved. Your dragon.
Sylus.
Of course, it looked a little different now. Nothing like the day he’d pressed his lips to your forehead for the last time, his soul returning to the clouds above.
You stare out into the rolling hills of charred forests, the arid rivers snaking through the canyon like a dragon’s spine. Flecks of ember from the destruction of Doomsday still flit against the winds around you like dancing midnight petals. But there’s no flowers in sight. Not a single one.
The endless crimson mountain range stretches around you like an aegis, almost as if trying to protect the innocence that was once kept hidden here. A lifetime ago.
What a joke.
Everything you had ever held dear, ripped from your hands. Flaunted before you, reminding you of how helpless you’d been to fate’s cruel whims.
♪ This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow. ♫
“What I desire is to live freely and die without regrets.” You’d said that, once upon a time.
Did you?
If you died tomorrow, could you say you had no regrets?
Your fists clench at your sides, your claws digging into your palms, sure to break skin and draw blood. You knew the answer to that.
You’d devoted your life to filling countless troves with what treasures remained on the empty husk of Philos and enacting revenge on the members of the Sanctuary and Legion that’d survived Doomsday. Revenge and plunder, just like old times.
The day those horns had dawned from your head, your tail descending from your spine, you’d become one with Sylus. He gave you power; he gave you freedom.
So why now, when you’d accomplished everything you’d always wanted, did your life feel anything but free?
Everything you thought you’d wanted.
So what did you want now?
“You know, Tarus City can have flowers that bloom everywhere, as far as the eye can see.”
Your breath catches in your throat, the sound of his voice in your mind is as clear as the first time you’d heard it in the obsidian chapel. The same moonlit chapel in which you’d promised your souls to one another.
Lead weighs on your chest as you gaze out at the desolate fields, once a spiritual sanctuary for Sylus and you. Could it ever return to the way it was? Could flowers really bloom here again?
You’d give anything to see just one of those ruby moonflowers again, petals the same shade of scarlet as the eyes you’d dreamt of, time and again.
But like those beautiful eyes, you knew deep down. You’d never see those daturas again.
♫ I used to have strеngth, but I ran out of hope. ♪
You resolve yourself to go numb, as you had countless nights before, when dreams alluded you and nightmares sought you. Your body moves mindlessly on its own, your eyes glazed as you watch the cloudless sky above.
Would Sylus be disappointed if he saw you now? An empty shell of the sorceress that’d unsealed him from the Abyss and freed him in more ways than one.
Once upon a time, you could put on a brave mask in the face of losing your dragon.
But over time, the memory of his body, heavy and whole, fading in your arms, the petals of his soul slipping through your trembling fingers, etched itself into your soul. No matter how hard you tried to forget, you’d always remember. And because of that, your courage quickly turned into a searing rage that consumed every fiber of your being.
What would he think?
Well, you’ll never know will you? The voice in your head taunts, unmistakably yours, yet foreign and faraway.
Since you’re the one who plunged that sword into his heart.
♪ I know it’s my fault that I’m here all alone. ♫
Eventually, you find yourself atop a small clearing overlooking the entire valley. An eerie sense of familiarity grapples at you as you stare out into the horizon, feeling nearly as empty as the land before you.
You’re not sure when it started to happen. The days started to feel longer. You could no longer hear the melody in songs, see the beauty in patterns, taste the flavors in fruits you once loved.
All things unnecessary to a dragon’s survival.
Were you surviving? Your heart was beating, blood coursed through your veins, air traveled through your lungs, and yet…
You didn’t feel alive.
♫ This world is a wasteland. ♪
The wind howls on, the swirling ash making your eyes prickle. You turn on your heel to leave. There’s nothing left for you here. Nothing but fragments of the life you could’ve had, with Sylus.
But as the sun melts into the sky, descending into the crimson expanse of mountains, your soul is hit with memories so clear you double over, clutching your shoulder as it throbs.
“Only you and this flower…can touch me here.”
You stifle a sob, your other hand coming up to cover your mouth as you stare out into the bittersweet dusk. The way the waning light descends the scarlet contours, perfectly framing the once picturesque grove. And then it hits you, all at once like a wave crashing against you, pulling you under, until you can’t breathe.
This is the exact spot Sylus had taken you to the first time he’d brought you to the Abyss Meadow. After the night you’d promised your souls to one another.
The exact spot he’d let you weave those same delicate daturas into his horns, grimacing adorably the entire time as you did so. Where you rolled around the meadow grasses in his willful arms, revenge and the Sanctuary a long forgotten thought, just you and your dragon.
The spot he’d kissed you for the very first time. The first of what you’d thought would be a lifetime of kisses shared with him.
Where you’d shared yourselves wholly, bodies and soul, every touch a promise, every kiss a vow.
The mark on your shoulder burns, your vision hazing with tears that you’re not sure you can blame on the ash anymore. Clenching your eyes shut, you blink them away, trying to steel your resolve and push the memories back down, where you’d kept them hidden for decades.
♪ I'm not ready to face it. ♫
But they rattle violently in the cage you’d built for them, your spirit is unrelenting. Or perhaps, it’s the remnants of his own soul etched into yours that refuse to let you fade completely into the darkness.
♫ Don't go saying goodbye. ♪
Eventually the branding waves of agony that radiated from the bite thrum to a pulsing halt, replaced with a heat that was all too familiar. You finally crack open your teary eyes, your vision filled with the breathtaking canvas of sunset.
The colors cast the withered meadow in the same breathtaking glow from that day.
♫ There's a beauty in changes, and I wanna try. ♪
–
Red.
Growing up in the Ivory City, you were surrounded by nothing but the blinding incandescence of white marble that was said to symbolize purity and prosperity. On the other hand, the children of the Sanctuary had been conditioned to associate the color red with Doomsday, the Fiend, and death.
But as the flecks of vermillion heat sparkled in Sylus’s eyes, his sultry gaze flickering to your lips, you knew you’d never known a color so beautiful.
“But only for one person,” he murmurs, claws gently gripping your neck, his other hand stroking the datura he’d placed behind your ear. Sylus takes a second to admire the delicate flower, imagining Tarus City covered in them. And you, among them, serenading those familiar requiems for him.
His hooded eyes meet yours again, and a low growl elicits from his chest as his body is overcome with a burning need to claim you. His beloved.
“Sylus…” you plead breathily, squirming under his gaze and shifting atop him, still straddling him in the field of blooming red moonflowers. Sylus hisses, his slackened jaw twitching and his claws digging into your chin, bringing you closer.
“You had better watch yourself, my little sorceress,” Sylus purrs dangerously, fighting to maintain control, “I should warn you–”
Your heart hammers, pounding audibly in your ears, as Sylus pulls you the rest of the distance in. His bottom lip grazes against yours as his eyes flutter shut, his breath hot and sweet, “I don’t have the patience to wait any longer.”
He wastes no time before furiously crashing his lips to yours, claiming what was his. His claws are deliciously possessive as they trace your racing pulse, savoring the way your body trembles under his touch.
You moan into his open lips when his fingers softly wrap around your neck, the tips of his ebony talons tracing soft patterns into your skin. He smirks against your lips, taking the opportunity to push his hot tongue against yours, tasting every inch of you.
The world around you fades away, your senses filled with only him. You can vaguely feel his tail wrapping around your thigh, the tip stroking the bare skin of your calf as you tightly clutch his hips.
The raw passion of his tongue against yours makes it feel as if he’s nearly breathing fire into your soul, his body growing more demanding as he feels your heat pulse against the growing bulge in his pants. The intoxicating smell of your arousal nearly sends him into a frenzy, and it takes everything within him to not throw you under him right then and there.
When you finally pull away to breathe, you’re a panting blushing mess. Sylus on the other hand only smirks up at you, his frustratingly beautiful face lightly dusted in a peachy sheen. Overcome with the urge to wipe the smug look off his face, you brush your thumb across his kiss-bitten bottom lip, forcefully resituating yourself on his lap. You bite back your grin when he hisses, his claws digging into the fat of your hips.
“What did you mean, when you said ‘you couldn’t wait any longer’?” you tease, fueled with confidence as you watch his vermillion eyes darken, the muscles of his abdomen tensing as your hands trace their way down his body. When your fingers graze the blood-red gem embedded in his chest, Sylus’s hand catches your wrist, his grip firm yet tender.
He brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing your palm into his lips, “Do you really need me to say it?”
You bat your eyelashes innocently at him, pouting, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Sylus’s chest rumbles as he chuckles, his eyes gleaming mischievously. His eyes never leave yours, the heated desire in them making the arousal between your legs increase, as he kisses your fingertips one by one.
“Dragons are solitary,” he says, kissing the pad of each finger. His tail uncoils from your thigh, only to loosely wrap around your waist, reminding you of how the mountain cat would twist its tail around your ankle.
“We grow up together, in packs,” his words are melancholic, as if remembering a painful memory, but when his ruby eyes return to yours they shine as bright as the waning sun above you, “But when we reach adulthood, we tend to go off on our own.”
You pondered his words, waiting for him to go on and doing your best to swallow the lump of emotions that’d formed in your throat at the thought of Sylus, alone for centuries. He nips at your fingers, his tongue coming out to lick tenderly at your skin.
The swirling heat in his crimson orbs are shadowed under his thick eyebrows, the very eye you’d been so drawn to boring into your newly intertwined souls.
“Can you recall what that human said that day at the market? The merchant?”
You nod curiously, biting back the shiver as Sylus continues to lick at your skin, daring further and letting his canines graze you, “Yes. That the Fiend would meet his destined archnemesis once more.”
His hands abandon yours, settling instead around your waist. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips as he beckons you down towards him, the corners of his lips quirking upward as he watches you squirm, a faint gasp escaping your parted mouth when his claws inch their way up your exposed back.
“Archnemesis…” he scoffs cryptically, pushing your body down against his chest, wrapping his thick arms around your smaller body, “Such a foolish human concept.”
Sylus shifts so that you’re lying completely on top of him, his tail securing you against his heavy abdomen, the unmistakable outline of something large and terrifying pressed against your core.
“Fate binds souls together–it’s written in the cosmos far above the clouds before the existence of time. Two souls that are a reflection of each other, in enmity and devotion. It’s much more than a mere destined archnemesis. This is the way of the world.”
The weight of his words begins to dawn on you, the meaning of them pressing heavily on your thundering heart. Sylus presses his lips to the mark he’d left on your shoulder in what felt like a lifetime ago.
“Ngh–!” you cry, Sylus’s teeth sinking into you. He bites down, tail constricting around you, wanting to hold you closer–tighter. You squirm against him, fingers pulling at his silver tresses, nearly seeing white as the pleasure and pain simultaneously shoots out from the crook of your neck, ebbing into every nerve of your body.
You can feel Sylus’s smug smile against your throbbing skin, his own hips coming up to grind torturously against you. He’d grown painfully hard, his cock unbearably hard in the restraints of his pants, fighting its way to get to you.
“Dragons live in solitude for the remainder of their lives,” he continues, his lips suddenly at your ear as you’re panting into his hard chest, trying to control your pathetic moans, “But some are fortunate enough to find–what you humans might call–their soulmates.”
Sylus grabs your jaw, forcing you to focus your hazy eyes on his. Though his grip is bruising, his thumb strokes soothing circles into your skin.
“A dragon mates for eternity, in this life and the next. There is only one–if even that.”
“Archnemesis, soulmate, mate. Call it what you will,” he whispers huskily, the desire in his voice palpable as he brings your chin in, his eyes darkening with a mix of lust and adoration. Your chest flutters as you take in the implication of Sylus’s words. The puzzle pieces of your fractured life began to fall into place–the Sanctuary, the weapon inside you, the golden lamp you’d treasured. Everything.
“I have known your soul was destined for mine, long before you pulled that Gods-forsaken sword out of my chest,” Sylus growls, nearly feral as the last of his patience snaps. You dissolve into a fit of squeals as Sylus effortlessly flips you under him, his hands cupping the back of your head and your lower back protectively as your body hits the plush meadow grass.
“And I can’t wait a moment longer.”
He wastes absolutely no time in bringing your lips to his once more, swallowing your moans and replacing them with his own heated breath. Your hands claw at any part of Sylus they can reach, nails leaving behind a red trail of passion that makes him groan with excitement.
Possessed with the need for more, you wrap your thighs around his waist, using your legs to cage him against you. Sylus’s grip in your hair tightens as he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your feverishly panting lips. His other hand comes down to clutch your thigh, his fingers crawling under your dress.
“Y/N. Do you know what you’re doing?” he pants, chest heaving, pupils blown with a lust so dangerous that your instincts are screaming at you to run. You bring your hands up to cup his face, mustering up all your courage.
“Why don’t you enlighten me?” you whisper, your eyes fluttering as you trail your fingers down his chest, resting them right above his belt and letting your fingernails delicately stroke the hair that leads to his pelvis.
A primal snarl erupts from Sylus’s chest at your blatant teasing, and in the blink of an eye you find your wrists bound above your head, his thick tail wrapped around them like a rope, his knee forcing your thighs apart.
“Just so you know, my love,” he leans in, face inches from yours, his arrogant smile hauntingly beautiful and terrifying all at once. He dips into the crook of your neck, heated breath washing over your mark, “Dragons are not known to show mercy.”
“I can handle it, Sylus,” you retort defiantly, though your trembling voice almost betrays you. Sylus only chuckles, his eyes glinting wildly at you, swirling with the darkness of all the things he wants to do to you.
“That’s my girl.”
You’re unable to speak further, crying out when Sylus’s fingers, that’d found their way under the skirt of your dress, demandingly cup your leaking sex, his lips latching onto the burning mark on your shoulder once more.
His tongue on your neck alone is enough to have you writhing under him, begging and pleading for more. The pleasure is so overwhelmingly blinding that your eyes are squeezed shut, body convulsing involuntarily to even his gentlest touches. You’d surmise that it must’ve had something to do with what he’d said about your fate bonded souls, that made your body react so violently to his.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t let you ponder it further, his finger dipping in between your dripping core to snap your attention back to him.
“Are you still with me, sweetheart?” he coos, brushing his middle finger up and down your weeping slit, careful to only brush against you with his calloused skin, keeping his claws tucked away. You glare up at him, weakly slapping his forearm that was wedged between your shaking thighs. You open your mouth to snark at him, but Sylus uses that moment to stroke your clit with the pointed edge of his talon.
“Sylus!” you cry, halfway between a moan and a scream, “Ahhngh–p-please!”
“Mmm? What’s that?” Sylus murmurs, twitching his fingers to ever-so-slightly caress your aching clit with his claws. “Begging for more already?”
Your back lifts off the ground, the feeling of his fingers on your cunt so sharp and dizzying that your mind is caught between wanting to squirm away but needing to chase more. But it seems your body knows exactly what it wants, arching further into his hand, forcing his fingers further into you.
Your hands come up to grasp the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair and gently stroking the base of his jagged ebony horns. Sylus freezes, his jaw tightening, a choked grunt escaping him, despite how badly he tries to hold it back. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you.
“Sylus?” you whisper incredulously, your fingers pausing, “Does that hurt?”
Sylus doesn’t answer, his breath coming out in shallow and needy pants, eyes shut as he hovers above you. His fingers have stilled, though still between your folds. Your worry dissipates when your eyes drift down, trailing down his trembling abdomen, all the way to the lump in his lap that ruts desperately against your thigh.
It’s then you realize that your formidable dragon does indeed have a weakness.
How adorable.
So with Sylus’s finger still parting your soaked lips, you use one hand to tenderly grab one of his horns, the other hand coming down to palm his bulge. His reaction makes you bite your lip with satisfaction, as his knees nearly buckle, still hovering above you, and his eyes filling with a volatile hunger.
“You never learn do you?” he bites out, but he doesn’t pull away, his body only leaning further into your touch. His head nuzzles ever so slightly into your fingers that are still intertwined into his hair, stroking his horns.
“I would say I’m faring quite well, wouldn’t you agree?” you croon, emboldened by the way his hips thrust down into your open palm, even if only imperceptibly.
At your adorably bold words, Sylus smirks at you, head cocked in amusement. His red eyes glimmer, a thick cloud of predatory desire swirling in the pools of garnet.
“You shouldn’t taunt a dragon, my love.”
You shriek when Sylus’s finger enters you, claw and all. You’re so wet that the brief sting of his lethal talon only serves to intensify the overwhelming waves of ecstasy he’s so deliberate in giving you. His finger moves so intentionally inside you, careful to only use the tip of his claw in ways that will have you clenching him for more.
Sylus swears under his breath as he watches the way you writhe against the ruby flora, his erection growing unbearably painful and wet within the constraints of his pants.
Dragons may not have the ability to recognize beauty. But as you clung to him, nails digging into his skin, sweet voice only capable of calling out for him, your wide eyes fluttering open and shut in overwhelming ecstasy…
Sylus knew there was nothing more beautiful in this world.
“Sy-Sylus,” you cry, “It’s t-too much. C-can’t–!” The dangerous feeling of his claws inside you is starting to make you delirious, your head dizzy with the need to come undone all over his fingers. The foreign pressure in your abdomen scares you into trying to scamper away from his hand, finger flicking inside your constricting walls
“Hm? Don’t you trust me sweetheart? I know exactly how much my little dragoness can take,” he murmurs gruffly, his thumb pressing harder into you. It seems Sylus knows exactly what he’s doing to you, because his tail wraps firmly around your waist, locking you in place, demanding you receive every bit of him.
“You can take another, hm?” he asks, but his tone all but commands it.
Your eyes widen; honestly you don’t think you can. Just one of his fingers has you feeling like you might pass out from the unfamiliar feelings of pleasure. Just one of his fingers has you feeling so full you might combust.
He’s on his knees between your legs now–the juxtaposition of such a formidable being kneeling before, pleading for your pleasure, makes your body clench with even more anticipation.
“D-don’t know if I ca-aan,” you whimper brokenly, body still pathetically arching into his hands, chasing an ecstasy you don’t even know if you can handle.
Sylus tuts gently, “Tch–you can. I need to stretch you out here before anything else can happen.”
You shiver at his words, trusting the foreboding warning wholeheartedly. Sylus was a dragon, after all, and you had no doubt he would be well-endowed, like everything else about him. Probably much more than your poor human body would be able to take.
And the thought of that alone makes you crave him like nothing before.
So you nod slowly, and Sylus smiles, the pride evident in his eyes.
“Good girl.”
Sylus tips your chin up towards him with the tip of his claw, capturing your lips into a kiss that steals your breath away. At the same time, he slips another finger into you.
He swallows your cries, and your fingers frantically grab hold of the grass around you, tearing and shredding at the green blades. If it weren’t for his tail wrapped around your waist, holding you in place, you’d be thrashing wildly, the ecstasy of his two fingers and claws inside your plush walls nearly unbearable.
Sylus’s nips at your lips, before his tongue replaces them and stakes claim to every inch of your mouth. He groans into you, using his spare hand to palm his painful erection, still restrained in the confines of his pants. When he pulls away, saliva dribbles down your chin, his lips trailing kisses down your jaw and to the shell of your ear.
“So tight around just my fingers,” Sylus seethes hungrily, his hand moving faster now, breath coming out shallow and hot against your ear, “I’m the only one that’s ever been here, hm?”
He curls his fingers inside you, his claws grazing just slightly against the spongy surface of your walls, demanding a verbal response from you. His voice drips with a possessive intensity that makes your entire body throb.
“Of course,” you whine, slightly embarrassed as your body arches up to meet his hand's ministrations, close to coming undone, “Wh-When would I have…at the Sanctuary…?”
A deep and satisfied rumble of satisfaction comes from Sylus’s chest, as he buries his face into your neck, inhaling your scent. Almost like a purr.
“Mine.”
With two of his fingers scissoring in and out of you, stretching you out to your max, you quickly feel like you’re about to absolutely burst, the edges of your vision turning white, stars clouding your sight.
“Ngghnh–Syluus…” you slur, your eyes watering, slightly terrified, “C-can’t anymore. Feels like m’gonna explode–!”
Sylus growls excitedly, fingers moving more insistently, literally trying to pull the orgasm out of you. The sounds of his palm slapping against dripping pussy grow louder and louder, all your senses overwhelmed until you’re on the verge of losing consciousness to it all.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Sylus praises, his canines at your earlobes, his own voice tinged with a primal hunger that’s barely held back by a thin string of restraint, “Cum for me, just like that.”
Though his words are simple, there’s an underlying command that lies just beneath the surface. Sylus would never stoop as low as to beg for anything, dragons were incredibly prideful beings after all, but more than anything he needed to see you cum, right now–for the very first time. Something he’d imagined more times he’d care to admit, on the many late nights you’d shared looking up at the moon after a journey of ravaging and plundering treasures.
So instead of begging, Sylus sinks his teeth into the brand on your shoulder, once again laying his claim on you. Your sweet taste fills his mouth and he can’t stop the muffled moan that escapes him, devouring you to his absolute content, fingers never faltering once.
Your eyes roll into your head at the indescribable sensation of pain and pleasure that surge from your neck, the shockwaves connecting with the same spasms of ecstasy that emanate from his fingers buried in your cunt.
“Sy-Sylus—! Ngh–It’s c-coming!” you can’t stop yourself from screaming unabashedly, though it didn’t matter as Sylus made sure there wouldn’t be anyone for miles and miles, for this very reason.
He doesn’t respond, alternating between biting and licking affectionately–aggressively–at the place he had marked you as his. His tail tightens around you, making you feel so deliciously suffocated, in the best ways. Making it feel like your very life depended on him.
Your next breath of air, your unrelenting pleasure, your soul.
Sylus, Sylus, Sylus.
With a strangled cry of his name, you feel the foreign sensation of a tension cord snapping in your gut, followed by a warm gush of mind numbing euphoria that consumes your entire quivering body.
Sylus swears under his breath, his fingers slowing but not stopping, helping you ride out the lasting waves of your very first orgasm. He releases your tender skin from his teeth, his hot breath blowing against you. His claws capture your chin between them, gently pulling your head back down to meet his eyeline.
“Look at the mess you’ve made, Y/N,” Sylus hums, slipping his fingers out of you and lifting them so you can clearly see the way they’re dripping with something clear and wet. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment.
“It’s not m’fault,” your voice comes out annoyingly shaky, still recovering from the earth-shattering experience. You swat his hands away weakly, “Stop. S’embarrassing.”
Sylus chuckles, letting you push his hands back towards him. But he tenses suddenly, the thick muscles of his arms locking. The planes of his sharp jaw twinge, his entire body rigid, like he’d just been struck by lightning.
“Sylus?” you whisper, sitting up and cupping his cheek into your palm, “What’s wrong?”
Sylus’s eyes are locked onto his fingers, his nostrils twitching. You’re mortified when Sylus brings his fingers to his face, his movements almost trancelike.
“Don’t do that,” you protest, eyes wide, moving to grab his wrist. But Sylus dodges you easily, swiftly removing his arm from your grasp, the smell of you on his fingers intoxicating him to the point of madness. The sheer primal hunger in his blood-red eyes is so far away, you almost don’t recognize him.
You’re acutely aware that you’re currently no more than a little rabbit trapped in a lion’s den. If it weren’t for the way his tail still wrapped around your waist so tenderly, you’d think he was the same Fiend that nearly lost himself and killed you that day.
Sylus doesn’t speak, his chest heaving erratically as he brings his fingers up to his lips, tongue catching every rivulet of your slick. His pupils dilate, locked onto you, a storm of emotions brewing beneath the carmine pools, his primal instincts nearly taking control. One thing swims to the surface above them all.
Hunger.
In a fraction of a second, you find yourself pinned to the grassy floor again, your head thudding to the ground against Sylus’s protective hand. Your wrists are bound above your head, with one of your thighs held open by Sylus’s tail and the other with his knee. His lips are everywhere, first at your neck, then down your shoulder, lingering at your mark, then trailing down your collar, to your breasts.
“Mm–ngh! Sylus?” you can hardly speak as he lingers at the swell of your chest, “What are you doing?”
“I can taste you,” he hisses, reaching your naval. You can vaguely recall the conversation you’d had with him awhile back–that dragons couldn’t understand a song’s melody or see the beauty in patterns.
Taste the flavors in food.
“More,” is all he’s capable of biting out, before prying your thighs apart. Of course, Sylus had no idea what it meant for something to taste sweet, how the burgundy jewels of the pomegranates you loved so much tasted. But if he had to take a guess…
They’d be nothing compared to the honey he had found between your legs.
“But–I thought dragons c-couldn’t…ah–!” you trail incredulously, yelping as Sylus hooks one of his arms under your knees, sweeping you briefly off the ground so he can yank your skirt off in one swift motion.
You’re left in only your drenched undergarments, skirt thrown somewhere to the side as Sylus resumes his relentless journey into your inner thighs, leaving a trail of angry hickeys in his wake.
“We can’t,” Sylus pants into you, suckling on the soft plush of your thighs, eyeing the glistening folds of your cunt that peek through your sodden panties like his next prey. He’s so close that you can feel his hot breath against your core, and it only makes you wetter.
“But apparently I can taste this.”
The moan you let out is more beautiful than any melody you could ever sing for him, as his mouth closes over your clit, tongue wedging between your slicked lips.
“W-Wait Sylus, m’sensitive!” you protest, still coming down from the way he’d just made your body explode minutes earlier, your core quivering against the heavy demand of his lips. But as you sit up on your elbows and peer down at the silver-haired dragon between your legs, taking one look at Sylus, you know there is absolutely no getting through to him.
Sylus has his mouth latched onto you, like he’s trying to drink your essence right from the source. His nose is buried right beneath your clit, every slightest movement causing the strong ridges to brush against the taut bundle of nerves, making it difficult for you to think straight.
You try to sit up further, but Sylus’s large palm comes up to flatten against your stomach, forcing you back down. He looks up at you, eyes dark and eyebrows furrowed, practically glaring at you.
“Don’t deny me of this,” he growls pleadingly, the sheer need in his voice making your toes curl against the grass.
The strength of his hand has you flopping back down, your body already succumbing to Sylus, yet again. You want to curse your traitorous body as it grinds into his greedy mouth, your mind battling your body’s instinct to chase the feelings that only Sylus can seem to give you.
Why not just give in? That’s what Sylus had been teaching you, right?
Live freely and die without regrets.
You grab two fistfulls of Sylus’s soft silver hair, pulling him impossibly closer to the apex of your thighs, shivering as he moans into you. His thick arms wrap around your thighs, holding on greedily, claws digging in.
“I should punish you for keeping this from me,” Sylus pants, pulling away for a brief second, giving you a pointed smirk. He uses his thumb to wipe the sheen of your arousal from his bottom lip.
“You can’t always get what you want Sylus. Sometimes you have to work for it,” you quip breathlessly, reeling from the sudden lack of his warm and wet tongue.
Sylus chuckles, dark and rich. The dangerous glint in his ruby eyes is one that is all too familiar to you. Your skin crawls, pebbling with goosebumps, and before you can scamper away from him, his fingers come down with a resounding wet ‘smack’ against your unsuspecting cunt.
“Sy-Sylus!” you cry, halfway between a screech and a moan, your body convulsing into a painful arch as it reaches up to meet his palm. Sylus uses that moment to hook his other hand under your back, lifting your body up with one arm, and hoisting you into the air.
You flail as he swings you around, pulling at his hair until you grasp his horns. Sylus hisses, and you find yourself back on the soft grass matted floor. But this time you’re on your knees, straddling Sylus’s face.
“Sylu–ngh!” your eyes widen when his tongue licks at your slit, “P-Please! This is embari-ngh-sing!” It’s impossible to get your words out coherently when his tongue is moving so insistently, trying to drain every drop of your essence.
He digs his claws into the tops of your thighs, trying to pull you down, despite the way you fight to keep yourself propped up on your heels.
“Don’t resist,” he tuts, his voice muffled and rough, “Sit, love.”
”No!” you protest petulantly, sobbing in ecstasy as he sucks down hard on your clit, as if punishing you for your disobedience, “I’m heavy. Don’t wanna squash you.”
“Do you truly think so little of me?” he scoffs, positively offended, his breath warm against your core, “Sit. Now.”
You bite your lip in uncertainty as you stay hovering above him. Sylus remains patient, indulging himself instead by sinking his teeth into the soft skin of your inner thighs. You tremble, nearly doubling over as he suckles on your leg, biting a trail of flowery bruises leading up to your core.
You remain stubbornly, but shakingly, upright. Sylus sighs, losing his patience completely and yanking you down by your thighs, leaving you with no choice but to completely fall onto his waiting mouth.
Your eyes roll back, knees buckling entirely, when Sylus’s tongue enters you, stretching you out over his overeager lips. Your entire body nearly gives out, as you fall forward, your hands barely coming out in time to catch you before you collide with the meadow floor.
But when your palms are supposed to meet the grassy floor, Sylus catches them instead, your fingers intertwining desperately. The tips of his claws stroke your burning skin, terribly soothing compared to the way his tongue was ravishing you so filthily.
Your body reacts to him so readily, your hips starting to grind down almost instinctively, much to Sylus’s satisfaction. His cock twitches, heart nearly pounding through the veins that bulge along the sides, at the idea of you using him for yourself. He hums in pleasure, pressing a teasing kiss to your clit and whispering, “That’s it sweetheart, take what you want from me.”
His words make you squirm. Your hands card through Sylus’s soft silver locks, grabbing hold of his ebony horns for leverage. Sylus growls at your core, the vibrations of his low rumble making you writhe and grind harder onto his lips, your body being pushed toward another explosive release.
“Hah, c-can’t anymore!” you cry, gripping his horns tighter, riding his face for dear life. Sylus doesn’t speak, but his enthusiastic tongue wordlessly conveys his words for him.
You might not be able to, but you will.
Your thighs cling to him, hips rolling into him with wild abandon. Everything about him, his honeyed words, his expert tongue, his possessive fingers make your body desperate for more, to take everything it wants. You’re so lost in your own pleasure that you don’t notice the way Sylus is likewise losing his mind beneath you.
The way you grip his unbearably sensitive horns makes him jerk with need, the taste of your arousal a never ending drug on his tongue. Above all, the way you rode him, the way your body sought exactly what it desired, the way you surrendered to desire, to him, in this moment.
You truly were the other half of his soul.
“O-Oh go–od Sylus!” you moan brokenly, your voice hoarse from the incessant cries, bordering on screams, for him. Your thumbs dig into where his horns meet his scalp, your chest heaving violently as you try to stay upright on his tongue, coming undone across his eagerly waiting lips.
Sylus growls in relief, his enthusiasm bordering on obsession. His tongue laps up every honeyed drop, savoring a taste he knew he’d become all too addicted to. Luckily for him, he’d have you for the rest of eternity. And he fully intended on tasting you, devouring you, every day of his life.
As you start to climb off his face, Sylus grabs you before you can crawl onto the floor, away from him. He carries you as delicately as he would the blooming daturas that surround you, laying you before him, settling between your parted thighs.
“Sylus,” you murmur breathlessly, looking up at him. The waning sun peeks out behind his head, the sky a sunset sorbet that is beginning to melt into the indigo of approaching night. With the fading sun behind him, he is an utterly devastating sight for sore eyes.
You loop your arms around his neck, dragging him down to you. He grunts, letting himself be pulled down to you, a ghost of a smile on his kiss bitten lips.
“I want…” you murmur hoarsely, trailing off as you let your fingers fall, tracing the muscles of his chest, drifting further south until they are grazing the defined contours of his abdomen.
Sylus’s fingers grasp your chin, bringing your eyes back up, where you meet his fiery gaze. His thumb presses into your bottom lip, prying your mouth open gently.
“Go on, my dove,” he hums, his voice practically a purr as he presses the lethal tip of his claw onto your tongue, “Tell me what it is you want.”
You open your lips to speak but between your sore throat, parched from your incessant moans, and the foreign desire still growing in both your gut and your heart, you were far too ashamed to speak further. But with the way Sylus was staring at you, his right eye flickering dangerously, you knew he could see right into your soul.
Sylus’s lips turn up into an absolute shit-eating smirk, his beautiful deep garnet irises gleaming with a rich amusement.
“Can’t speak anymore?” he chuckles amusedly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“That’s alright,” he murmurs, his voice taking on a snarl that’s simultaneously dangerously edged yet velveteen. The ends of his claws trace your pulse as his fingers venture down, making your breath hitch. You shiver, giddy at the idea that those very talons, that were capable of such destruction, were now caressing you with so much tender passion.
“All you’ll need to be able to say is Sylus, hm?”
You light absolutely ablaze at his filthy words, your stomach churning in anticipation at what you know is coming. What you want more than anything you’ve ever known.
His fingers, that’d found their way to the swell of your chest, shred the delicate straps of your corset with the slightest flick of his claws. You squeal as your naked body is exposed to the elements, writhing as the wind nips at your bare skin.
“Hey!” you protest hoarsely, sitting up, your arms darting to wrap around your chest, “Was that really necessary?!” But of course, Sylus is far quicker than you. He catches your wrists easily, holding them in his hands, leaving you beautifully exposed before his hungry eyes.
“No,” he smirks cheekily, face coming inches from yours, his breath fanning across your lips. You glare at him in annoyance, which only makes his grin widen.
“Now it’s my turn to take what I want,” he murmurs, pushing you flat against the grass. With your hands still restrained against his palm, he kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of claiming bruises along the way.
“Beautiful. The truest treasure,” he rasps between kisses. He lingers on the mark on your shoulder, not being able to help but to indulge himself there.
A stream of unabashed moans escape your lips as Sylus bites down, hard. So hard you think he might draw blood. His canines are so close to your pulse; your instincts scream at you to flee, but your soul forces you to stay.
Pain and pleasure, it was all the same. If Sylus was giving it, you wanted it.
This is the man fate had destined for you. Your dragon.
And you fully intended to show him that as well.
With his head at your shoulder, his own neck exposed to you, you couldn’t help but press your lips into his pulse. Sylus tenses in surprise, unwittingly sensitive, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, his body bucks into yours, his pelvis pressing into you, as if desperately seeking something from you.
“You never learn do you, my little sparrow?” he bites out, his voice rough and raspy. Despite his words, he doesn’t pull away in the slightest. You smile into his neck and gently sink your teeth into his soft skin, desperate to mark him in the same way he’d marked you.
Sylus's breath grows erratic against you, his chest heaving unsteadily. His hands come up to hold you possessively against him, his powerful tail coils around your arched waist, like you might disappear at any second. Your fingers thread into his hair, hooking onto his horns again, as you continue to kiss into his neck.
But suddenly, Sylus is yanking himself away from you, his tail prying you off of him.
“Too much?” you mumble apologetically as you watch him straighten up, waiting for him to settle back down.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he props himself onto his knees, focussed and dangerous. Like a predator before the hunt.
“No. It’s not enough.”
With that, he’s undoing the buckle of his belt, his darkened eyes never leaving yours. You can’t help but bite your lip as you watch the bulging veins of his forearms, his hand reaching into his undone pants. Sylus looks devastatingly handsome as he undresses himself before you, eyeing you like his next meal.
You don’t get to see him pull himself out before Sylus is back on you, his lips fervently attacking yours. You don’t know what’s changed, because the Sylus that’s kissing you right now has completely thrown restraint to the wind, like he’s trying to claim every fiber of your being with this one kiss.
His body is so imposing atop yours that, even naked, you feel nothing but warm and safe in the evening breeze. He’s so close, you can feel his eyelashes on your cheek. But you can’t stop pulling him closer, moaning in satisfaction when he holds you bruisingly tighter.
Still, you want more of him.
Your hand inches down to grasp his manhood in your fingers, pulling away from the kiss with a choke. Being a dragon, you had no doubt that Sylus would be larger than what you’d been told was average from the other women at the Sanctuary. As soon as your fingers make contact, Sylus’s tail is roped around your wrist, the thick scales digging into your burning skin, his eyes filled with a volatile hunger.
He doesn’t pull you away. His tail wrapped around your wrist seems to be more of a silent warning.
If you continue, there’s no going back.
Sylus’s eyes follow you carefully, his right eye shining as he seems to read your every whim and wonder. Every doubt, every fear, every fantasy.
“You can take it, sweetheart,” he coos reassuringly, reading your mind like the back of his hand, thumb catching a stray tear you hadn’t even known had fallen, “I’ve more than prepared you.”
You eye him skeptically, taking a deep breath, peering down at where your bodies are firmly pressed together. Your breath hitches at how pathetically small your hand looks wrapped around him, his erection as beautiful as it was terrifying.
How many fingers had you been able to take earlier? Two?
You were fucked. Literally.
“Y/N,” Sylus calls, his voice taking on a tender warmth that you rarely heard from him, clearly able to read your nervousness.
He grips your chip and tilts your face back up to meet his eyes. Hoisting you up by your waist, he sets you on his lap so that you’re straddling him, wrapping your legs around his hips. His cock stands proudly, arousal smearing all over your bare navel, brushing against your clit as he presses you so deeply into his body that it rests between your leaking folds. Fitting like a puzzle piece.
“I have waited over a millennium for this. For you. I can wait a millennium more, until you’re ready.”
Your body immediately reacts to his profoundly heartfelt words, your chest constricting and your core fluttering. It’s not hard to decide what you want, right then and there.
“I trust you, Sylus,” you say firmly, voice still raspy and hoarse, “I want you. Please.”
Sylus curses under his breath. One forearm wraps around your ass, lifting you and his other hand angling himself so that his thick leaking head is nudging right at your entrance, begging to be inside you. You writhe at the friction, your hips rocking onto him on instinct.
The silver haired man growls, arms tightening around you like a vice, “You drive me insane, Y/N,” he rasps into your ear, his breath hot and heavy.
At long last, he presses himself into you. Crying out, your nails dig into his shoulders, sure to break skin. The discomfort was immeasurable, your body wildly confused by the intense pain but the strange feeling of intimacy.
“I don’t think I can–I can’t!” your hips locking, eyes welling with tears. The stretch was beyond anything you could have ever fathomed, and you were almost sure he would break you.
“You can, you can,” he soothes, almost desperately, like he was terrified you might ask him to stop. Every muscle in his body was locked and tense as he fought the urge to ram right into you, ravaging you like every instinct was telling him to do.
With even just the tip barely inside, he knew this was far too dangerous. The feeling of you wrapped around him was far too addicting, one of few things that threatened to make him lose all humanity to the untamed dragon blood flowing through his veins.
You always were his one weakness.
The urgency, the desperation, in his voice makes your tummy flutter, your body tightening in response to him.
Sylus hisses, his tail constricting around your waist, claws digging into the fat of your hips, “Don’t tighten up. Not if you want me to be gentle.”
“Am I?” you moan as he shifts, sinking slightly more into you, “M’sorry Sy. D-didn't mean to.”
A low rumble ripples from his chest as he does his best not to slam you down the rest of the way down onto the hilt of his cock. Which was nearly impossible because every time he moved at all, he swore your pussy was trying to choke him out.
“Is it all the way in yet?” you whisper, fighting to keep your voice level. You had never felt more full in your life, your gut on the verge of splitting. The pain and since dulled into a somewhat bearable ache, but it was by no means comfortable.
“Half way, love,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.
Your eyes widen in shock, “W-What?!” You look down between your bodies, and sure enough, Sylus was still hoisting you halfway above his impossibly massive member. There’s a faint smear of red across the sheen of your combined arousals. Your blood.
Before you can speak further, Sylus presses his lips to yours, stealing your breath as his own. He swallows your moans, his tongue and cock simultaneously sinking further into you.
A string of saliva connects your lips when he pulls away, his fingers tenderly holding your chin, his darkened scarlet eyes piercing into yours. His right eye glimmers with a dangerous edge.
“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he rasps, still hanging onto his last thread of his control, “You can take it all, can’t you? Perfect little mate.”
Your chest and core simultaneously flutters at his words and you’re fueled with a newfound confidence and an overwhelming wave of lust. It really seemed that Sylus knew exactly what to say to you to have you wanting more.
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you roll your hips, trying to inch your own way down him, practically able to feel his pulsing veins throbbing against your gummy walls. The pain from the stretch was still there, but Sylus had prepped you so thoroughly that it was beginning to be difficult to feel anything but good.
“I can take more Sylus,” you murmur into his ear, pressing a wet kiss into his throbbing pulse, “I want more.”
An animalistic snarl rips out from deep within Sylus’s chest. His fingers squeeze literally bruises into your hips as he whispers back into your ear, breath hot and heavy.
“Yeah? That’s my girl,” he rasps, trying to contain his hunger, before lowering you the rest of the onto his cock, seating you entirely on his lap.
He gives you a second to adjust, licking the tears that had started to stream down your cheek. It quickly feels unnatural, and you’re desperate for some friction, the pressure of him at your cervix too intense.
“Ngh–Sy-Sylus,” you moan, “Please, move–do something.”
Sylus twitches inside you, your words fueling him with the desire to breed you full of him, “You’re playing with fire, my little dragon.”
He wraps his thick arms around your body and begins to bounce you up and down on his lap, trying to keep a slow and gentle rhythm, doing his best to ensure you’d be in as little pain as possible.
Of course it didn’t matter, with his sheer size alone, pain was inevitable.
But so was pleasure.
Your body had begun reacting to Sylus all on its own, your hips rolling into Sylus’s sculpted abdomen, trying to pull him deeper into your saccharine heat.
“Ngh–haah…Sy-Sylus!” you splutter, fingers clawing deep red welts into the ropes of muscles on his back, “Feels…”
His tail tightens around your waist, the tip stroking along your thigh, almost affectionately. His pace grows increasingly more vigorous, more excited, as he watches your face contort in different phases of pain and pleasure, “You feel incredible.”
His words, the feral rasp in his voice, so animalistically raw and primal, makes your entire body clench with excitement. And Sylus can feel all of it, every quiver, every twitch.
“You’re so damn tight,” he bites out, rutting up into you, “Trying to break me?”
“You’re–ngh–s’dramatic,” you tease, weaving your fingers through his hair and stroking his horns.
Sylus’s tail grips you, his body tensing as you gently provoke the sensitive ebony spurs. You can swear his rhythm falters, but he composes himself instantly. The rough scales lining his muscular tail sink into your skin, leaving beautiful little crescents behind.
“Am I now?” Sylus smirks, his tone warning you that you’ve used up all his mercy. Your cries amplify as Sylus’s intensity picks up, his pelvis slamming into your cheeks. You’re so caught up in the borderline violent thrusts that you don’t notice when Sylus’s head dips down, his lips latching onto your breast.
“Oh Gods,” your voice is hoarse and broken with desire, nearly drowned out by the wet slaps of his body pounding into yours. On the other hand, Sylus’s mouth is deceptively tender, suckling so gently, teeth grazing so intentionally. His coarse fingers pinch the nipple that he can’t attend to with his tongue, all the while still driving himself deep into your gut.
His free hand comes down between your bodies, the slick that had smeared there coating his fingers as he finds your clit, sending your eyes into the back of your head. The valley echoes with a broken record of your combined cries of pleasure and the lewd sound of wet skin colliding.
“Does every inch of you taste this damn exquisite?” Sylus demands breathlessly when he pulls away from your breasts. The way you felt wrapped around him was making it difficult to control his instincts, needing to remind himself that he needed to be careful with you.
“Hah…only t’you–! Only for you,” you can barely register the words coming out as your ears pound, your vision starting to blur as the same tension you’d felt twice earlier starts to build in again.
A possessive growl erupts from Sylus’s chest, unable to contain his instincts. But the corners of his lips quirk, a pleased smile gracing his features.
“Only for me, hm?” he licks a stripe from your neck to the mark on your shoulder making your entire body shudder.
Sylus’s talons dig into your thighs, now using both the strength of his thighs and arms to fuck you relentlessly onto him. Your back arches backward at the sheer force of his body and you use your palms to catch yourself on the ground behind you. Sylus’s tail steadies you, but at this angle he reaches a new depth inside of you, his impossibly thick cockhead roughly caressing a sensitive spot inside you that has you seeing stars.
“O-Oh Gods, oh Go-ods! Sylus–!” you chant like a broken prayer, your lower half rolling into Sylus’s lap impulsively, like it was the most natural thing in the world. You use your hands that are planted on the ground behind you to give you leverage, just letting your body do whatever feels right, feels natural.
With every roll of your hips, your clit brushes against the silvery mat of wet hair painting Sylus’s pelvis, making your eyes gloss over with a fucked out bliss that has Sylus nearly coming undone himself.
His eyebrows furrow, red eyes swirling with shadows as he watches you atop his cock, his mate. The distinct outline of him strains against your delicate skin every time he thrusts into you, bulging against your naval.
Did you have any idea how insane you were driving him right now?
He hooks his hand behind your waist, just one palm enough to cup the small of your back and pull you back to him. He pulls you flush to his body, your bare chest pressed against his, your hearts pounding against one another.
“I’m a selfish man, Y/N,” he rasps into your ear, fighting to not explode into your gummy walls.
“S’okay,” you cup his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his in a chaste kiss, “I love that about you. I love you.”
Sylus’s tail tenses, still wrapped possessively around you, your proclamation making him snap. Before you know what’s happening, you find yourself being thrown back onto the grassy floor, Sylus’s hands cupping the back of your head as he sets you on the ground. Somehow, he still finds a way to keep himself snug inside you, unwilling to pull away for even a split second.
“Sylus!” you cry out, half in surprise, half in excitement, as his heavy body presses down onto you, his lips less than an inch from yours, cock nearly in your throat.
“Sweetheart,” he groans, voice coming out unusually…frenzied.
He truly was a selfish man, in every sense of the word.
“You can take another for me, right?”
“Another?” you squeak when he licks your cheek playfully, tenderly.
“I’m pretty sure I can…cum–” you flush at the word, still slightly reserved with your newfound sexuality, “–again.”
Sylus chuckles huskily, pressing a soft kiss into your lips, “That’s not what I meant.”
Though he keeps his voice level, he couldn’t keep his heart from hammering erratically in his chest. You felt so indescribably perfect wrapped around him, he couldn't even fathom that it could get better than this.
You were everything he imagined, and then some.
You groan when he shifts to his knees, repositioning himself. Sylus moves his hand to grab the base of his length, and you’re about to protest, not wanting him to pull himself out of you.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, you feel the odd sensation of something else poking at where he had already had you completely full with his ridiculously thick cock. Something that was grinding against your clit, like he would with his thumb, toying with you as if also trying to get inside you. Something equally, if not more, massive than what was already nestled inside of you.
There was no way he thought he could possibly fit more inside you.
With your eyes wide, you shakily, address the silver haired man hovering above you, “H-How did I not see that you have t-two?!”
Sylus throws his head back with a breathless laugh, his entire body shaking. He strokes your cheek with the tip of his ebony claws, staring wryly at you with his sparkling crimson eyes.
“The same way I can hide my wings.”
He strokes the leaking tip of his second cock along your clit, making you shiver. You can’t deny how good it feels, and how exhilarating the thought of it is. The way he looks at you, desperate, feral, and with all the intensity a hunter would stare at its prey.
It makes it impossible for you to think coherently, the lust overpowering all sensibility.
“You can take it,” he coos encouragingly, using his second tip to smear your combined slick around your taut opening, as if preparing you to take him.
“You could–ngh– barely get one in, what makes you think I’ll be able to take two–!?” you writhe, forcing the words out as Sylus continues to slowly rock into you.
Your squirming only makes you tighten further on Sylus, working him up further. His second cock had hardened to the point of pain, no matter how firmly he stroked it. It needed you, and nothing else could satisfy him.
The desire on Sylus’s face, on his body, is palpable. You can see the beads of sweat gliding down his sculpted face as he restrains himself, his chest heaving as he tries to lock his instincts away, a dark storm of frustration in his eyes.
“Oo-kay, I’ll try,” you murmur, hoping to the Gods you’ll live to see another day. Sylus’s carmine eyes light up, a proud grin donning his devilishly handsome features.
“Good girl.”
He forcefully pounds against you, still only letting his second cock grind against your clit. Every thrust causes it to glide against you, rubbing against the sensitive bud, like he was fucking the lips of your cunt with it.
Your fingers claw at the ground as the anticipation boils, waiting for him to just put it in.
“Sy–ngah–just do it alr–”
He presses his thumb into your lips, interrupting the beginnings of your frantic rambles.
“Breathe out.”
Just as Sylus’s hips are about to snap against your cheeks again, you feel him finally push himself into you.
Your eyes go wide, mouth agape, as he stretches you until you fear you may actually pass out. You’re so wet that it doesn’t take much to coax it through the initial stretch. But it still hurts, far worse than when he’d initially penetrated you.
However there is also far more pleasure than before. The two sensations tug at one another, making your mind reel with tumultuous chaos. A tormenting mixture of ecstasy and torment, threatening to shatter your mind.
“S-Sylus, I-I can’t, s’not gonna fit,” you whimper when the stretch becomes too much. Peering down, you see that you’d taken the entire head of his second cock, and you don’t think you can take any more.
Sylus groans, his eyes squeezed shut, a storm brewing within him. The feeling of your perfect cunt wrapped around both of his cocks was unlike anything he could have ever imagined, and he was at war with the feral part of himself that was threatening to break free and take you like he was in rut.
“It will fit, my love,” he soothes tenderly, his fingers rubbing soft circles into your hips.
He bends down, taking your chin in his fingers to pull you in for a kiss. But before your lips meet, he whispers heatedly, eyes overcast with a swirl of inexplicable emotions.
“You were made for me, Y/N. Of course it’ll fit.”
His eyes flicker to your lips, before coming back to your eyes, silently asking for your okay before proceeding. As much as he wanted this, more than anything he wanted you to want it too.
Your heart swells, core fluttering at his words. Sylus hisses when he feels your walls clenching against him, inadvertently sinking further into you.
Gasping, you pull him the rest of the way towards you, circling your arms around his neck, and pushing your lips onto his. You take that moment to arch into him, letting him push deeper into you, biting down on his lip as he sinks further to the hilt.
Sylus kisses you so fiercely that you don’t even notice that he’s fully inside you, both cockheads pressed as deep as they will possibly go. Just as he claims every inch of you with his tongue, his arousal coats every part of you, marking you from the inside.
He pulls away with a snarl, his entire chest shuddering, a visible sheen of sweat glistening on his muscled body, “Sweetheart, I need to move.”
You nod, eyelashes fluttering as you fight to keep your eyes open, “Mmngh–you can move, Sy. I-I want you to.”
Sylus’s eyes darken, his palm slamming down on the ground beside your head. He’s completely hovering over you now, his lower body pressed so deliciously into you. Like he owned you.
Laid out against the tapestry of blooming datura, you made his heart stutter, his right eye twinging with inexplicable desire. You were more magnificent than any work of art. After 1,600 years walking these lands, Sylus finally knew what beauty was.
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, slowly pulling out of you before rolling his hips back into you. He’s so deep, stretching you so full, body so heavy on top of yours. You can’t feel anything but him, and it makes you want to come undone all over him again. That sensation in your gut, that you had become all too familiar with, had already built to a near bursting breaking point.
“Soo deep–angh–s’fuuull,” you slur, graspingf his horns again, stroking them affectionately, letting the rough ebony edges ground you.
“Fuck,” Sylus curses sharply as you grope his sensitive horns, barely able to contain his own moans. His knees nearly buckle, using only his arms to keep him propped up over you. Squeezing his eyes shut, he takes a deep breath, forcing himself to regain his composure.
His hips roll into you like the tides of the ocean, his pace smooth and rhythmic. There’s a filthy wet ‘smack!’ every time his pelvis hammers into you, the ecstasy your bodies create together makes you leak uncontrollably, even so tightly plugged up by both his lengths.
“Feel me right here, love?” he grounds out, using one hand to press down firmly on the soft plush of your stomach. You squeal when you feel him pushing down on you, forcing your sensitive spots to clamp down on him. With two of his cocks inside you, there’s absolutely no space for that, the pleasure it brings you sharp and overwhelming.
“Yes-yes—! Please!” you plead, hoping he’ll have mercy on you. He’s driving you closer and closer to another orgasm, and you don’t know if you’ll survive this one.
Sylus can feel it too, the way your saccharine walls begin to squeeze him so sweetly, your beautiful starry eyes hazing over—too fucked out to focus, your clit hardened to a pebble against the slicked mat of silvery hair dusting his pelvis.
With you like this under him, mercy is not something he’s interested in.
In fact, Sylus had never felt like more of a beast than he did now. And the only thing he had an appetite for was you. The only thing that could sate his hunger was feeling you come undone so exquisitely for him again.
He plants one foot on the ground to give him more leverage, letting him thrust down into you more powerfully. Your thighs were spread so widely to accommodate him, your feet swinging wildly as he rolled his pelvis so deliciously into you, his entire body cascading like tidal waves.
“S-Sylus–ngah!” your relentless moans for him would be embarrassing if you weren’t so deep in the hole of lust, “Soo full–ngh–feel s’full–!”
“I know, love,” he purrs, “You’re so beautiful, with me inside you.” He softly strokes the bulge in your tummy, sending shivers down your arched spine, the sensation so otherworldly.
He delicately, but firmly, grabs the back of your neck, his fingers long enough to enclose over your entire throat. Gently, he pulls you forward, forcing you to look down at where he’s palming your stomach.
“Taking me so damn well,” he growls, his fingers threading into your hair now, gripping with just enough tension to make you tremble with excitement. Your forehead knocks against his, his damp bangs fluttering against your eyes. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails clawing into the thick ropes of muscles there.
“Mngh–Syluus, I can’t take much more. M’close again–!”
His hand forces you to watch where he was literally rearranging your insides and has you teetering off the cliff of climax, hanging on for dear life. Sylus’s pace only quickens, his hips pounding into you with reckless abandon now, unable to stop himself, any previous gentleness long gone.
As a Fiend who’d spent his entire life plundering the world of its treasures and riches, he’d come to know insatiable greed. Dragons inherently took and took, feeding off the gluttony of the human soul, unable to quench their own need to acquire.
He’d spent a millennium acquiring the most exquisite jewels, extravagant weapons, rarest heirlooms–what he wanted, he took. And yet, every waking day was the hollow echo of a broken harmonium.
But now, with your angelic little cunt wrapped so perfectly around both his cocks. Your nightingale voice that so often innocently serenaded him, moaning his name like a prayer, greedily begging for more. Your fluttering, doe eyes, glimmering back at him with an entire universe of emotions–desire, anticipation, greed, love.
Sylus realized he’d never known true desire. Not until he’d met you. Nothing he’d ever experienced compared to what it felt like now, to want you–to need you.
And he’d desire nothing, now and forevermore, if he had you.
Sylus’s fiery breath fans across your lips, his hand holding the back of your head demandingly, voice raspy with an unyielding desire, “I can feel it, sweetheart.”
“Don’t make me beg, hm?”
His heat fueled words, all but a demand, make you shake to your core. Your body’s perfect reactions to him only make Sylus more vigorous with need, growing impossibly harder inside you. One leaking tip brushes relentlessly against your g-spot, the other bullying into your cervix, damn near trying to find its way into your chest.
“Sy-Sy–ngh–m’cumming–! Please–!” your neck is hinged back in an ear splitting cry, your hips arched so deeply into Sylus that your spine feels like it might snap.
“Sh-shit–just like that,” Sylus grits, groaning as your cunt tries to wring him dry, “Just like that, sweet girl. Cum for me.”
Your body convulses, goosebumps littering your skin, as Sylus continues to fuck you through your orgasm, your vision blurring and tears seeping out from the corners of your eyes.You don’t know if it’s because you’ve cum three times already, or because he has you absolutely speared on both his massive erections, or maybe because he looks down at you with all the adoration you think one could hold for even the stars. But this orgasm is far more explosive than the previous ones, and it makes you scream into the night.
You release fiercely against Sylus’s body, the wet gush of release simultaneously erotic and strange. The muscles of your thighs trembled viciously. Your cries of complete and utter pleasure are strangled, your voice nearly gone now. Sylus is cooing sweetly into your ear, but you can't hear him through the blood pounding in your head, your eyes having a hard time staying focussed.
You don’t even notice when Sylus shifts, now on his knees, his fingers grasping the plush of your hips. Your back now rests against the matted meadow floor, your vision filled with the sky that was slowly filling with stars.
But your sight is incredibly shaky, Sylus’s grip on your hips bruising as he pulls your body into his relentlessly, still chasing his own release.
Your senses slowly start to come back to you, the feeling of his cocks still rutting deeply into you sobering you up. The feeling was strange; it was by no means painful, but it was sharp and made you wince.
“Ungh, Sy–s-sensitive,” you whisper, your throat scratchy. Though his thrusts are rough, possessive, he’s somehow still careful with your body, making sure you’re not a complete ragdoll against his demanding pull. You crane your neck slightly and see that, during your momentary orgasmic state of incohesion, Sylus had placed his pants under your head, and what was left of your clothing under your naked back.
The simple gesture makes your heart skip with inexplicable happiness as you gaze up at him, admittedly growing aroused again, watching him.
His sweat matted silver bangs had been tousled back, as if he had run his fingers through them. Thick eyebrows, arched downward, darkening his already smoldering irises, watching you like you were the reason the sun rose every day. His entire body was layered in a thin sheen of sweat that made him appear as if he was chiseled from marble, like the sculptures you’d see in the Ivory City.
“You know, dragons like to mate in the sky,” Sylus groans, a near ramble, delirious with desire, clearly near his own release. His tail flickers wildly behind him, and you use your calf to rub against it. He tenses with a strangled moan, snapping his hips particularly harshly into you. Your eyes roll back as he bruises against your cervix, your sensitivity at an all time high.
“Sylus!”
“One day, hm? Right now, there’s nothing I want more than to see you spread out amongst these flowers.”
Another series of desperate ruts that have you writhing at the intensity.
“We have all the time in the world.”
His honeyed vows have you keening, your body reacting viscerally. Sylus reels when you clamp down on him, doubling over with a strangled groan.
“Not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that,” he pants into the crook of your neck, chest heaving. You loosely wrap your weak arms around his neck, nipping at his earlobe, enjoying the way he flinches.
“Please,” you beg, knowing how much he loves your greed, “I want you to, Sylus.”
A rumbling growl emits from Sylus’s chest, still pressed against yours. Your brain is far too exhausted to register how quickly he moves, maneuvering your thighs until they’re pressed against your breasts.
“Yeah?” Sylus snarls, his entire body caging you in, thighs closed over yours. You swear you can hear your muscles groan in protest, not meant to be this flexible. He’s practically sitting on you, except he keeps most of his weight off of you. From this angle he reaches the deepest he’s been able to, locking you in a mating press that he’s determined to breed you full in.
“You want me to cum in you, sweetheart?” he rasps, completely feral–too far gone. He’s ramming down into you now, using the strength of his thighs and gravity to knock the air out of your lungs, cocks reaching deep down your throat.
“Too-nghn–too deep!” You don’t know how it’s possible but you feel the coil in your core building again, and you’re certain you won’t survive it this time. It’s too fast, too sensitive, too taut.
Sylus groans, the sound of his pleasure making your mind spin. His rhythm stutters, and you swear you can feel him pulsing inside you, literal vibrations rocking your core. You’d like to think he was as close as you were, again.
“Needs t’be deep, love. If you’re going to give me an heir, hm?”
Your eyes widen at his words, heart skipping a beat. Sylus falters again, feeling you tighten at his words, before smirking crookedly at you.
“So damn tight. Does my sweet girl like that idea?” he croons, almost condescendingly, but threateningly serious.
Your vision is blurred with euphoric tears, but you can clearly see Sylus’s enchanting eyes looking down at you as they had many times before. They were always intense, the carmine hues able to peer right into your soul. But the heat in them now, as he watched you writhing in ecstasy under him, would put a wildfire to shame.
You look up at him through your dewy eyelashes, grasping his shoulders, and nod wordlessly, unbelievably aroused by his lewd words of passion.
Storm clouds swirled in his scarlet eyes and he leaned down impossibly closer to you, pressing your bodies tighter together, forcing himself deeper.
“You’re going to take my knot like a good little mate, hm?”
You weren’t entirely sure what that was, but the way Sylus said it just dripped with a possessive sensuality that made you want to submit to his every will. Your stomach flutters at the thought of it, and so you nod eagerly.
“Ungh–anything, Sy–! Anything for you.”
Sylus snarls, nearly baring his teeth, unable to contain the sheer primal joy he felt from your sinful words. He was already having a hard time keeping his instincts at bay with how you felt wrapped around him, underneath him, but now you were on the verge of making him snap entirely.
Did you have any idea what you were doing to him?
“The world needs more dragons, don’t you think?” he snarls, his hand pressing down roughly on your stomach where his two cocks threaten to erupt inside you. The implications of his hand cupping your stomach send you over the edge once more.
Gods, you’d be so beautiful carrying his brood.
“C-Cumming Sylus!” you whine, voice pathetically broken, body spent beyond belief. Your nails drag through his shoulders, piercing his skin and spilling blood, as every nerve in your body lights ablaze under his touch.
Sylus sinks his teeth into the sensitive spot on your shoulder, needing to claim you as he pushed himself to the edge. Your cunt convulses viciously against him as you cum, the feeling of your perfect heat milking both his cocks pushing him to cum with you.
“F-Fuck, Y/N–!”
Sylus explodes in you with a strangled groan of your name, his release thick, plenty, and scalding. It sends a claiming heat from your core all the way to your fingertips, making you shiver as you shudder with the waves of your climax, crying repeatedly for him.
You feel like you might burst, your stomach swollen with not only his cocks nestled in you but the sheer amount of cum he was still spurting in you. If you weren’t so blissfully fucked out, it might’ve been a bizarre sight, your tummy bulging with the weight of his unending seed painting your walls cream.
“Mine,” he groans into your neck, sinking himself back into your mark, still rocking into you, still spurting white into you. There’s far too much, leaking out of where he was still connected to you, rutting into you.
It quickly becomes too much; you’re not sure if you’d become too raw or if you’d simply had enough, but a strange pressure begins to build. And soon that pressure becomes a stinging, painful stretch.
“Sy-lus,” you whisper, tapping at his chest frantically, “W-Wait please. Something hurts.”
Sylus affectionately licks at the mark he’d branded you with, releasing your legs from the mating press he’d held you in. You whimper in relief when the tension in your hips finally releases. Sylus gently wraps your legs around his waist, but the growing pain between your thighs doesn’t subside.
“It’s my knot, love,” he growls, his voice gruff and gravely. His entire body trembles at the sensation of his knot swelling–filling you, the idea of his seed being stuffed deep inside you making it difficult for him to calm his raging instincts.
His hand palms where your thighs meet the plush of your rear, kneading into your ass and gripping you closer to him. You instinctually squirm away, the stretch becoming unbearable. But you quickly realize that you physically can’t. You’re literally locked onto him.
Sylus hisses, holding you in place, desperately trying to get you to stop moving.
“Please, sweetheart.”
From the sweat dripping down his brow, his jaw clenched so sharply it could cut stone, you realized his knot must’ve been incredibly sensitive. If you weren’t the one getting stretched out onto it, you might’ve even teased him.
“Just so big, t-too much,” you squeak as he swells further inside of you, not sure how much more you could take. You look down at where his abdomen is pressed into you, the area a pearly mess of your coalesced spend.
You could vaguely see that Sylus had in fact slipped one of his erections out of you, occluded by the sight of the other still engorged and locked inside you. You briefly wonder if the other one is also swelling with a knot. Had he pulled it out for your sake?
“How–nghah–how much more?” you pant, trying your best not to clench down.
“Almost. You’re taking me so well, Y/N,” Sylus murmurs, deceptively sweet, when all he wanted to do was ram his second knot into you. The battle between his innate draconic instincts, wanting to claim you full force like a beast, and the dual need to protect and cherish you, the last bit of his soul that was untainted.
You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, burying your face into his neck. His scent invades your senses, and you can’t help but moan, lips latching onto his racing pulse. Sylus groans, fingers grasping the back of your head and pressing you deeper into his chest. His tail wraps around your waist again, needing to be closer to you, deeper in you.
“Look at you,” he groans breathily into your ear, the swelling finally seeming to finish, “Taking my entire knot, hm?”
With his entire knot wrapped in your perfect heavenly cunt, Sylus can’t help but start rocking into you again. He’d cum so thickly inside you that his knot actually begins to thrust ever so slightly, the friction sending his eyes reeling backward.
Your eyes blow open, wincing at the feeling of prickling overstimulation. But when you see him, you find yourself not wanting to tell him to stop.
Sylus’s pearly white canines have dug into his kiss bitten lips, a rosy blush dusting his sharp cheeks. The emerging moonlight makes his argent hair even more ethereal, mussed back in an adorably messy way. His breath is heavy–desperate, face contorted in pure euphoria as he slowly thrusts into you again.
When you look up at him, you catch him watching you, his eyes overcast by the furrow of his thick eyebrows.
Reflected in the sea of searing vermillion, the adoration and worship burning brighter than the moon that illuminates a halo behind him, you see your soul reflected back at you. A soul that had been burned black, a puppet without a heart, consumed by revenge and contempt.
Until a fiendish dragon had plucked her out of the Abyss, and breathed fire back into that very hollow vessel of hatred, illuminating her spirit golden with greed.
That very greed not only saved your life, but showed you what it meant to be alive.
You let him slowly fuck his knot into you, whimpering as he stretched you to the point of breaking. Oddly enough, you didn’t hate the feeling, even though it stung. In fact, your body seemed to crave it, crave his body claiming yours.
“You feel so fucking incredible,” Sylus growls, his movements growing more and more insistent with every passing moment. From his gravelly voice you can tell he’s quickly losing control. Your eyes flutter upward, becoming overwhelmed, your poor body unable to take any more.
“Syluus, no more,” you grip his forearm, voice weak. Sylus stills when he hears the genuine pain in your voice. His lips are instantly at your temple, pressing kisses into your damp skin.
“Apologies, my love. I got carried away.”
Sylus shifts, cradling you so that you’re now on top of him, his strong arms holding you protectively. His knot, still swollen, rests tightly inside you, plugging you full of his thick seed. You listen to the thrum of his heartbeat, the two of you laying there in a serene silence that nearly lulls you into sleep.
“You are my fate,” he murmurs imperceptibly, pressing a soft kiss into the claim on your shoulder. His tail has found itself wrapped around your body again, the thick and cold scales digging pleasantly into your burning skin.
“Hm?” you mumble, sleep creeping in on your consciousness like a thick misty fog.
Sylus’s chest rumbles with a deep chuckle, his fingers carding through your hair. He can feel his knot slowly beginning to subside, though his body still rides high from the passion.
“Nothing. Sleep, my little dragon.”
–
“Sing for me.”
Sylus’s wings are cocooned protectively around your naked body, seeing as he had absolutely shredded your clothes earlier. The two of you sat against the trunk of a large willow, with Sylus’s back pressed against it, and your back pressed against his chest, his thighs caged around yours. His tail rests on the ground, coiled around your feet, flickering every so often.
You’d awakened to a moonlit tapestry of stars and had stayed to admire them in the serenity of the valley, instead of heading back to the chapel.
You crane your neck to look back at him, “What, no please?”
Sylus arches an eyebrow at you, “Were you always this cheeky?”
You can’t help but let out an amused snort, “Were you always this demanding?”
Sylus grimaces, bordering dangerously close to a pout, “Will you sing for me?”
“My throat is sore,” you whine. It was wholeheartedly the truth; your voice was raw from your prior vigorous…activities. But the adorable sulk on his face has your resolve slipping away.
“Just a little,” he murmurs, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly. You don’t even think he realizes he’s pouting.
You turn your eyes back to the night sky with a giggle. He always demanded you to sing for him, especially when you’d watch the moon together. It was almost a ritual for the two of you. And you rarely denied him.
♪ “This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow,” ♫
Sylus’s wings tense around you as you start singing, his chin resting on the top of your head. The gentle lilt of your voice sent a shiver down his spine, as he tried to recognize the lyrics. But he realized you hadn’t ever sung this one for him before.
♫ “If it weren't for you, I'd be here all alone,” ♪
You keep your voice low and steady as you sing the melody, staring up at the moon in the cloudless sky. It shines even brighter than it had that night in the chapel.
♪ “I know in my heart this is where we belong.” ♫
The next lines get caught in your throat when a droplet of water splashes on the crown of your head.
Odd. There hadn’t been any clouds in the sky.
You tilt your head all the way back, trying to get a better look at the sky, “It’s starting to rain.”
Sylus’s upside down face blocks your view, looming over you. He gently grasps your chin and brings your lips up to his, capturing you in a slow and tender kiss.
A few more raindrops fall onto your cheek, making you shiver. The valley rain is strangely warm.
When he releases your lips, Sylus wraps his arm around your chest, holding you to him. His heart pounds so heavily you can feel it thrumming against your naked back.
“Oh! I think the rain stopped Sylus!” you gasp, holding out your palms and extending your arms beyond the shade of the willow to try and catch some falling rainfall.
Sylus’s chest vibrates with laughter. He presses his lips into your hair, taking a deep inhale of your scent. Your pheromones nearly have him throwing you under him again, blood rushing south.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your head, shifting so his erections aren’t pressing into your spine.
Turning to look at him, you giggle in surprise. The silver-haired dragon was not typically a man of many ‘thank yous.’
“For what? Singing?
Sylus doesn’t answer immediately, staring up at the silky glow of the full moon. His normally shadowed irises glisten unusually bright under the radiance of the stars.
He’d always wanted someone to watch the moon with.
Sylus looks at you. The corners of his lips are curved in a barely-there smile, but his crimson eyes behold you such devotion that your breath catches. Deep inside the recesses of your consciousness, you can feel your soul tremble, as if being caressed by the claws of another.
“Yeah. For singing.”
–
A drop of water splashes against your cheek, shaking you out of your reverie.
You frantically wipe the tears from your cheeks away with your fingers, but the water only continues to fall.
Looking up, you realize the sunset had faded into night. In your reminiscing, clouds had overtaken the sky, crystalline raindrops starting to cascade from the heavens.
It’s…raining.
It hadn’t rained for decades in Tarus City, not since that day atop the Highest Court of Justitia.
Not until now.
♪ This world is a wasteland. ♫
You reach your hand out to catch some of the falling water in your palm, enjoying the sensation of the droplets splashing against your tepid skin.
A fleck of ebony ash drifts into your palm, the lingering orange ember fading away like a melting sunset when it meets your wet skin, tragically beautiful.
Like a body fading into crystals of midnight, getting swept up into the clouds.
♫ Don't let me go, go, go, go, go, go, go. ♪
The raindrops mix with your tears. You’re not sure how much time passes with you standing there in the rain, a mess of silent sobs. Seconds, minutes, hours, you’re not sure how long. Time seems to lose meaning as you stand there, your emotions coming out in an endless stream of tears. Eventually your eyes dry, your body dehydrated with nothing left to shed.
But the rain doesn’t show any signs of relenting.
When your bloodshot vision focusses just enough for you to regain your sight, you watch as the rainwater seems to melt away the thick layers of soot that had caked the meadow floor for decades.
The rain was pouring down like silver threads now, gathering into the streams in the depths of the meadow. The way the water trickled down the spine of the empty riverbanks almost made it seem like the valley was alive again.
You look up at the sky. Darkness had come quick, especially with the amount of rain clouds that had surfaced. There weren’t many stars visible, the twinkling lights hidden by the smog and the clouds.
But as you watch the billowing storm clouds, the wind picks up, parting the column of clouds into two, allowing the glow of the moon to illuminate through.
Your breath catches as you behold the sight of the moon. It was a full moon tonight, a halo of argent brilliance.
The same moon you’d watched together here, on that night.
You couldn't recall the last time you'd allowed yourself to gaze at the moon like this. It felt wrong–to watch the night sky without Sylus. Or maybe you were just too much of a coward.
Wherever he was, was there a moon for him to gaze up at too?
Standing here in the valley, under the bask of the moonlight, you feel closer to him than you had in a long time. There’s so much you wanted to say to him, to apologize for–to explain. But you struggle to find the words, your voice caught in your throat, drowning in unrelenting rain and inexplicable emotions.
Your heart drops when the light wanes, the moon getting swallowed up by the unending storm clouds, the moment passing as quickly as it had come.
Some words are like the moonlight hidden by the clouds. Once the moment passes, there’s no need to say them anymore.
The rainfall drizzles to a stop, leaving you a soaked and shivering mess in the creeping darkness. Though the rain has stopped, the clouds remain. They blanket the entire sky, reaching towards the valley. They trickle over the tops of the scarlet mountains, spilling down like a waterfall.
You’re about to turn to leave when another falling fleck of ash flits in front of your face, tickling your eyelashes.
You catch it in your open hand, waiting for it to dissolve into the dewiness of your palm. But it just lays there, whole and unyielding. Picking it up, you examine it carefully, before tentatively twirling it around between your fingertips.
What you thought was a fleck of ash wasn’t actually, but a midnight datura petal.
Your eyes widen in shock, cradling the fragmented bloom in your palm as if it were a newborn hatchling. Whirling around, you search for any possible signs that there could be flowering daturas in the valley. But the ground is covered in nothing but melting ash, as far as your eye can see. Surely nothing could have survived here.
But the flesh feels healthy and supple as you pinch it gently between your fingertips, as if it’d just been freshly plucked.
Wrapping your arms around your soaked and shivering body, the petal tucked in between your fingers, you look out one last time into the vast expanse of ashen scarlet hills.
Somewhere out there, there is a blooming datura. If even just one.
“Tarus City will bloom once more–as far as the eye can see.”
You let the wind carry your voice off, louder and stronger than you’d intended. The meadow listens, your words echoing into the heart of the valley.
“But only for you, Sylus.”
You bring the datura petal to your lips, pressing it tenderly there. For a second, you contemplate holding onto it. Taking it with you.
But perhaps that’d been your mistake all these years.
Holding on when you should’ve been letting go.
You unclasp your fingers, and the wind lifts the petal from your hands. As it flutters past your shoulders, there’s an inexplicable warmth that emanates from Sylus’s mark–the faint traces of the bittersweet scent of cindered blossoms tickling your nostrils.
It drifts higher, towards the call of the wild–the mountain ranges beckoning it toward them. Higher until you can barely make it out from the expanse of the twilight sky.
.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.
✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.
Fluff fluff and more fluff! It's Sylus's turn to be loved on, so here ya go!
Concept: You visit Sylus at the base, only to find him asleep.
Tags: Tooth-rotting fluff, very soft Sylus, gn reader
Word Count: 1084
Pulling up to the mansion, you check your phone once again. No replies.
It wasn’t odd not to hear from Sylus for brief periods of time, so you really shouldn’t feel as disappointed as you do when the texts you sent don’t even show a read notification. He was a busy man, you fully understand but the pang of concern settled through you. He has been more busy as of late, meetings and auctions filling up his days, ones he wouldn’t tell you too much about.
God I hope he’s not hurt. I’m gonna kill him myself if he’s hurt and hasn’t said anything.
With a sigh, you open the door and walk into the Onychinus base. It was quiet, the large lobby showed no signs of anyone, darkness had already filled the space from the night settling in. You keep walking, searching for Sylus, or even the twins, anyone that can point you towards the man you’re searching for. You don’t see anyone as you wander the halls, eventually settling on searching the areas he frequents. You start off with his office, knocking lightly, only to be met with more silence. You peak in. Empty.
Next you wander to his bedroom, the large doors closed in front of you. Another knock sounds, and yet again, no response. You were a bit hesitant to open this door, Sylus liked his privacy, and while you knew you were the exception to that rule, you still paused before you popped your head in. No one in sight.
Maybe he’s out? I’ll just wait here for when he’s back. You thought, making your way to the living room to put your bag down. The silence was deafening, empty, and it made you miss Sylus so much more. It’s been a while since you last saw him, a few weeks at least, and while you still talked over the phone often, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough. You missed his warmth, his arms around you, the gentle kisses and, goddammit, even his teasing, not that you’d ever admit that to him. That’s why you were here, under the guise of getting information that was unavailable to you through the… less shady channels. You want to see him.
As you cross the threshold of the living room, the sight makes you stop in your tracks. And what a sight it was. On the armchair by the fireplace, there sits the man you were looking for, eyes closed, reading glasses slightly askew, a slight furrow in his brow. His silver hair is slightly messy, a book lay abandoned on his lap.
You can’t help but smile softly, your heart swelling with fondness. Even the big bad Onychinus leader could look gentle while he slept. You scan him for any signs of injury, satisfied when you don’t see anything.
Quickly depositing your bag and coat on the sofa, you grab the blanket settled on the backrest, carefully covering Sylus’s sleeping figure, removing the glasses before laying a light kiss on his forehead, soothing out the ever present furrow playing on his brow.
Standing back up to move away, you feel a tug on your hand, pulling you back down towards him. The tug was hard enough for you to lose your balance, falling onto Sylus’s lap, feeling thick arms pull you further against his chest. A gruff voice sounds above you, “Looks like a stray kitten snuck in while I wasn’t looking, going straight for a sneak attack.”
Crimson eyes squint open, a teasing glint playing across them, lips tilting up into a smirk. He looks… tired. His eyes are decorated with dark circles, an almost weariness evident in his features.
“Don’t you have a bed to sleep in? You’re gonna do your back in, sleeping like this.” You poke his cheek with your finger, rolling your eyes at the gentle teasing.
“And miss out on this special treatment?”
With a fond sigh, you sit up to face him, an unimpressed look pointed at him.
“You really should get some rest Sy, you look like you need it.” You caress his cheek with your hand, your thumb running under his eye. His eyes close as he nuzzles his face into your hand, placing a soft kiss on your palm. You feel him relaxing into you, a rare moment of vulnerability that only you are allowed to see. You move closer to him, laying a gentle kiss on his lips. His lips are smooth as they glide slowly against your own, a breath leaving him, arms bringing you even closer if that was even possible.
Pulling away, you litter small kisses across his face, on his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, and eventually leaving another peck on his lips. His eyes never left you as you move in on your attack, warmth shining through them, a small smile on his face.
“You’re being incredibly docile tonight.” Your voice is light, an amused tone shining through.
“I’m just letting you have your turn before I get my revenge.”
“How assumptious that I’ll let you get any form of ‘revenge’.”
“Oh? Kitten, you know I like a challenge.” Immediately the tables are turned on you, as he surges forward nuzzling into your neck, leaving quick nips and kisses across your collar bones leading all the way up to your ear, fingers dancing across your sides. You try to squirm away but the hold on you is like a vice keeping you in place.
“Stop! Sylus! It tickles!” Giggles spill out of your lips as you keep up your attempts to escape.
He doesn’t relent, huffing laughs into your neck, which only tickles you further.
“Okay! Okay! I surrender!” You laugh, pushing his face away from your neck. He stops his ministrations as he pulls you close once again. You lean into his chest, catching your breath. Silence settles around you, filled with contentment that seeps into the both of you.
“You know, I like having you here.” He says softly, after some time has passed.
“On your lap? I’m fully aware.”
“Yes, that. But also here, at the base. It makes me happy to have you here with me.” You don’t know how to respond, it’s rare to hear anything like this from Sylus, but the words fill you with a kind of warmth, swelling in your heart. You snuggle in further, nuzzling against his neck and leaving a soft kiss there.
We part and meet, again and again - heavy hearts with little laid bare.
The weight in my chest is hard to name, while your doubts fill the air.
In this fleeting moment, freedom's wings are bound.
And that moment has long since vanished, never to be found.
Like lightning that strikes and is gone in a breath.
Like fine snow falling to a river, meeting its death.
Like light pouring over the tide, only to be swallowed where shadows hide.
How can I witness and hold such beauty once more…?
If I were to bury my heart within your sweet lips.
Warnings: Very Drunk MC, Sylus Myth Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 2787
Written: 4th March 2025
Notes: Pre-relationship, with Sylus and the main MC I write for. Just the Poly Chapter to go. You know when you're writing and it doesn't go where you meant for it to go? Every damn day.
Also incase anyone was wondering, the song playing over my head while MC was dancing was I Adore You by HUGEL.
Masterlist
AO3
<- Caleb <-Zayne <-Xavier <- Rafayel
Sylus hasn't long been awake, sitting at his base, working through his tablet, as the twins play a game nearby.
You'd given them your handheld to borrow, incessant that they're careful with it, and return it when they'd finished trying it out. He'd made a note to buy them one, especially when he saw them getting overly boisterous with it.
Of all the expressions on your face he wanted to see, downtrodden and heartbroken over something you treasured, was not one of them.
"Boss-man, have you heard from your hunter?"
"We wanted to ask them for new games!"
He finds himself rubbing between his eyes, sitting up in his chair, and reaching for his drink, before his hand stops. He does not hear from you frequently, if you're not worrying about what he might be up to, but he has sent you messages and received nothing in response. It is not too unusual for a short amount of time, missions take you far afield. He watches through Mephisto's eyes often, to figure out what you're up to.
To make sure you're as safe as can be with your work.
Just in case. Just in case you need his help.
He tries not to step on your toes, to involve himself where you will chafe. You're capable, strong, and driven.
He thinks about your rage and fire as you pressed a gun to his chest, snarling in his face, spittle flying.
Reckless.
The itch in his chest awakens, the sense of aggravation that he does not know. That he has no eyes on you. The image of his beloved being lost, hurt, where he cannot reach…
He lifts his phone again, opening his messages and seeks out the string of unanswered messages.
He doubts he will get much more, and if he does not, Mephisto will find you. If Mephisto cannot, he will. He has scoured planets for you, exploring Linkon and beyond is easy.
🐦⬛: Has my kitten lost their tongue? Or have they gotten trapped in a box, and need rescuing?
The twins look at him, then at each other, shrug and resume their game, but he can feel their focus is on him. Can feel them peeking out the side of their eyes.
He tries to ignore it, after all, he's fine. You've always been difficult.
He often finds it amusing.
Even if his phone finally going off again, comforts him.
🐈: Did you need my help for a job?
A job? He's unsure where you reached that assessment, but you've finally responded, and so he calls you.
It rings, and rings, and rings.
Then goes quiet. He feels himself frowning down at the thing.
🐈: Is everything ok?
🐦⬛: Pick up.
🐈: Sylus??
He doesn't respond, this time he calls again, waits. And waits. You leave it till the last ring before you answer.
The first thing he gets, is noise. Music, loud and irritating, because he can't hear you.
There's scuffling, and then it quiets down somewhat, and he can finally hear you, breathing heavily on the other end, "Sylus? What do you want?"
"I wanted to talk to you kitten, it's been too long since I've heard your voice. I worried you'd forget what I sound like."
"Why would I-" You sigh, "Did you need my help with a job? It must be urgent if you're calling me."
"I have not brought up a job, why do you keep asking?"
"Why else would you call me?" He hears a weak laugh, soft, and sad, and his heart drops.
He's told you many times he calls you because he likes to hear your voice, after all, he would not spend as much time with you if he did not enjoy being around you. That he seeks you out in every corner of the world, yearns for your voice in every moment.
How many times must he play the damned claw machine with you, sit in the kitty card cafe while you grandiose your victories, or lend his strength to you in combat, if he did not care?
"I can simply want to talk with you kitten." He attempts, but you scoff. Actually scoff at him, and he hears it, the slur in your words. "Where are you?"
"If you don't need my help, I gotta go." He tries to speak, but you cut the call. This time when he sends you a message, chasing you up, he gets nothing else.
When he calls, this time it rings once and goes to voicemail.
There's a feeling in his stomach, like if he does not find you, you'll vanish. It is a feeling with no basis, but it burns and bites nonetheless. It brings him to his feet, and he determines to find you.
There's few places in Linkon he knows you hide, you are not at home, which narrows the places down considerably, as your usual haunts are not open at night. The noise in the back of your call, had at least made the job easier. Between himself, and Mephisto, he finally finds his way to a bar where he spots the flash of white hair.
Seeing it in the distance, always makes his chest tighten, and his half heart feel fragile.
Pushing his way through crowds, it is a vision that greets him. If he were more inclined to romanticism without realism, he could almost imagine the music dimming.
You hold a glass aloft in the air, eyes closed, as you dance freely amongst other humans. Hips sway, singing aloud to music you can barely be heard over, sweat drenching your skin. Droplets run down the expanse of your throat as you tip back your head, gets caught in the fabric of your shirt, and he watches another one down your bared stomach, soaking into the fabric of your shorts.
Sylus has been parched for centuries, lost in a desert, and now stares at an oasis. How you cannot see his greed, his desire, his clawing need, he will never know.
He is not a subtle man in this.
In all his time spent with you, he has never seen you like this. Carefree, the weight of the world fallen from your shoulders, all the grief out of your hands, as you dance, and sing, as loudly as you can. Surrounded by other humans, who do not know they dance with his beloved.
A stranger's hand is placed on your hip, you do not seem to notice, caught up in the music, and there is a moment where Sylus watches, where he is unsure whether he wants to be seen by you.
Every expression he gains from you, is worn and aching. You have come into this world different, fragile and sore. Biting at the bit for a monster to fight, and he hurts to think he might be that monster. That he has no cause to assure you that he isn't.
He did not steal the person you trusted most from you, but he is not innocent. He is not good.
He cannot wash the blood off of his hands yet.
There are others whose hands aren't scarred and sullied, that have never been claws to hurt you. A small part of his soul, wonders if turning around and leaving you to be amongst those less sculpted to be violent beasts, would be better. Stronger suited to your warm heart.
Until he feels your soul in his chest again. Under the blissful, drunk, expression on your face. It aches, mourns, misses, and hurts.
Lonely…
It hurts to hear it so loudly. You are so, so lonely, even surrounded by people. No matter that you have sought out a crowd as big as you could, that you have drowned sorrows to the point of spilling, that you silenced the voices as best you could.
You still cannot escape it.
He hears it, he hears you.
He cannot leave you alone.
His feet bring him to you, a hand reaching out to steady you as you stumble forward a little, preventing the glass in your hand from falling. It splashes on his jacket, and he watches as you open your eyes, ready to apologise, before the sight of him stops you.
Your eyes widen, mismatched and sparkling. Jewels.
His treasure.
"Sy?" The nickname slips out of your mouth, and he feels it down his spine, familiarity and warmth. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to see you, kitten." He leans in so that he can hear you properly, the song of your voice against his cheek as he speaks against your own. Nose against your skin. There's a moment where his hunger spikes, and he wants to flick his tongue against the sweat on your skin, before he remembers where he is. Remembers you're drunk. He fights it back.
Parched.
If this is how humans feel with their desires, no wonder they are driven to madness.
"I…" You blink at him, doe-eyed and soft, stunned. He watches and he waits, for you to figure out what to say. "Hi." Is all he gets, but it's exhaled, and he watches the small quirk of your lips. The softening of your eyes. "Dance with me?"
He can only assume the liquid confidence contributes to the way you down your drink, he takes the empty glass and floats it somewhere away from you, before you extend your hand. In all the time he has adored you, he has never been offered a dance from you. He has hinted, he has desired, he has asked.
You have never asked him. Every invitation is his to extend, seeking you out while you pull away from him, like you're scared. Yet he's not sure what of. You don't seem scared of him, challenging him whenever you find him disagreeable. You are a puzzle he has not finished piecing together.
He wonders if he ever will.
He must stare at your hand too long, because you tilt your head, "I thought you liked dancing?"
"I do."
"So? You don't want to dance with me?" It's said softly, with pain sneaking its way into your voice, and he has to stop himself from reaching out to you.
He doesn't know how to dance here, looking about him at people who do not follow steps he knows. That he has learned, for you. He knows how to dance in a ballroom, how to follow moves that are structured, because he has learned them. This follows a rhythm, and he cannot always hear it.
It's almost like fear… if you find him lacking, when you have finally sought him out.
"Sy-" The warmth in his chest, in his spine, in his soul. Sy. Sy. Sy. It is not a pet name, but it is familiar. It is said softly. So very softly. You take his hand, pulling him forwards. He stumbles only because he would let you lead him anywhere, and because he is too distracted by the warmth of you against his skin. Your hand moves over the front of his shirt, up to his neck, and you poke him, "Just have fun. That's all that matters."
An easy ask, when you're involved.
He is not a patient man, he thinks, but for you, he is. He will always have enough patience, enough joy, enough love for you. If only you would see it.
There are few times he loses track of time, used to a busy schedule, and a need to solve issues as soon as they arise. He does not know how long he spends with you in a bar he has no interest in, surrounded by people he cares little for, because he spends it with you in his arms. Unconcerned with the world, your scent wrapped around him, your skin against his, and your voice in his ears.
When you're finally worn out, and ready to leave, he is reluctant to lose the heat of you. Waiting for the moment he steps out of the bar, for you to pull away. Hold him at arm's length. Look at him with that gaze he cannot decipher.
He keeps his hand in yours as you leave, walking the distance to your apartment. Unwilling to leave you alone, or drive back when he feels drunk off you. The cherry wine of your soul is strong and delectable. He thanks his soul, and yours, that he is better at controlling himself than he feels.
You wobble a little as the two of you walk, keeping yourself upright using his arm, and though he offers to carry you, you shake your head. Laughing to yourself as you take careful steps, like a newborn deer.
It is minutes into the walk, along the quieter streets, that you finally speak, looking over at him, "So why did you really come?"
"I told you kitten, I wanted to see you."
You bite down on your lip, and he tugs you to a stop, to ease it from between your teeth with his thumb. Staring down at you as you look up at him. Eyes soft, wet. Hunger and desire.
He is a better dragon than a beast, he assures himself.
"No job?"
"I hardly feel you'd be useful in a fight right now, kitten."
It is the wrong thing to say, Sylus realises as you flinch, frowning, "Right, of course."
"Why do you think I need your assistance?"
"It's the only time we talk. A job, help, because you want to negotiate… or-" You bite your lip again, and he strokes over your bottom lip with his thumb this time, placing the tip of it on the fat, holding it there. If you want to bite yourself, you'll have to bite through him.
"We can talk whenever you like." He speaks, and he hopes he conveys it better. Warm, and full of the adoration he feels. His appearance can be useful, can be a curse, and when he fears you do not see past sharp eyes and features, the worst thing he can think of.
He just wants you to hear his voice, and his words.
"Whenever?" You ask, "What if I say all the time?"
"I'll answer whenever I can."
"Except when you're being a big bad crime boss?"
Sylus laughs, moving his hand to your cheek, pinching it gently, "Even then, sometimes."
He watches, and waits, as the fear eases out of your expression, as you soften again. As your soul in his chest, so very noisy, settles and eases back to wrap around his. A slumbering dragon that matches his own.
"It won't bother you?"
There's a sigh he has to bite back, because he remembers you angry and full of fire, and broken. He remembers that amidst all the strength is a soul that has been twisted against its will. He takes your face in his hands, tilting your head up to look directly into his eyes, and smoothes his thumb over your cheeks, "You are worth the time, kitten. Worth the work. Worth it all. You could never bother me, in any way I do not want. Do you understand?"
He watches the tears well, and then be fought back down, but he leans down anyway, presses a kiss to just above your eye, where you had kissed lifetimes ago. You may not remember, but he can only follow what you taught him of love. Even if it will take a while before you believe it of him.
"I understand." You nod, hand tightening on his shirt, crinkling the fabric between your fingers. "Then… come to the cafe with me tomorrow?"
He sees you step over the chasm, the flames in your mismatched gaze as you watch him carefully, fingers shaking against his chest. Like you're waiting for him to laugh, or pull away. Instead he presses your hand further against his chest, so you can feel it. The unsteady dance of your hearts, and chuckles. "Planning to lose a card game to me, my little kitten? Sounds like a plan."
You pout, sticking your tongue out at him, and then laugh. The same carefree warmth he felt when he watched you dance, except this one is shared with him, and he feels sick with the satisfaction of it.
He'll message you tomorrow, to remind you of what you promised, and as he drops you off at your apartment, stunned when you return a kiss to his cheek before rushing away from him…
Well, he'll remind you over and over if he must.
He'll move mountains so he can comfort your lonely soul, and remind it of steady warmth and unrestricted love.
Warnings: Very Drunk MC, Sylus Myth Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 2787
Written: 4th March 2025
Notes: Pre-relationship, with Sylus and the main MC I write for. Just the Poly Chapter to go. You know when you're writing and it doesn't go where you meant for it to go? Every damn day.
Also incase anyone was wondering, the song playing over my head while MC was dancing was I Adore You by HUGEL.
Masterlist
AO3
<- Caleb <-Zayne <-Xavier <- Rafayel
Sylus hasn't long been awake, sitting at his base, working through his tablet, as the twins play a game nearby.
You'd given them your handheld to borrow, incessant that they're careful with it, and return it when they'd finished trying it out. He'd made a note to buy them one, especially when he saw them getting overly boisterous with it.
Of all the expressions on your face he wanted to see, downtrodden and heartbroken over something you treasured, was not one of them.
"Boss-man, have you heard from your hunter?"
"We wanted to ask them for new games!"
He finds himself rubbing between his eyes, sitting up in his chair, and reaching for his drink, before his hand stops. He does not hear from you frequently, if you're not worrying about what he might be up to, but he has sent you messages and received nothing in response. It is not too unusual for a short amount of time, missions take you far afield. He watches through Mephisto's eyes often, to figure out what you're up to.
To make sure you're as safe as can be with your work.
Just in case. Just in case you need his help.
He tries not to step on your toes, to involve himself where you will chafe. You're capable, strong, and driven.
He thinks about your rage and fire as you pressed a gun to his chest, snarling in his face, spittle flying.
Reckless.
The itch in his chest awakens, the sense of aggravation that he does not know. That he has no eyes on you. The image of his beloved being lost, hurt, where he cannot reach…
He lifts his phone again, opening his messages and seeks out the string of unanswered messages.
He doubts he will get much more, and if he does not, Mephisto will find you. If Mephisto cannot, he will. He has scoured planets for you, exploring Linkon and beyond is easy.
🐦⬛: Has my kitten lost their tongue? Or have they gotten trapped in a box, and need rescuing?
The twins look at him, then at each other, shrug and resume their game, but he can feel their focus is on him. Can feel them peeking out the side of their eyes.
He tries to ignore it, after all, he's fine. You've always been difficult.
He often finds it amusing.
Even if his phone finally going off again, comforts him.
🐈: Did you need my help for a job?
A job? He's unsure where you reached that assessment, but you've finally responded, and so he calls you.
It rings, and rings, and rings.
Then goes quiet. He feels himself frowning down at the thing.
🐈: Is everything ok?
🐦⬛: Pick up.
🐈: Sylus??
He doesn't respond, this time he calls again, waits. And waits. You leave it till the last ring before you answer.
The first thing he gets, is noise. Music, loud and irritating, because he can't hear you.
There's scuffling, and then it quiets down somewhat, and he can finally hear you, breathing heavily on the other end, "Sylus? What do you want?"
"I wanted to talk to you kitten, it's been too long since I've heard your voice. I worried you'd forget what I sound like."
"Why would I-" You sigh, "Did you need my help with a job? It must be urgent if you're calling me."
"I have not brought up a job, why do you keep asking?"
"Why else would you call me?" He hears a weak laugh, soft, and sad, and his heart drops.
He's told you many times he calls you because he likes to hear your voice, after all, he would not spend as much time with you if he did not enjoy being around you. That he seeks you out in every corner of the world, yearns for your voice in every moment.
How many times must he play the damned claw machine with you, sit in the kitty card cafe while you grandiose your victories, or lend his strength to you in combat, if he did not care?
"I can simply want to talk with you kitten." He attempts, but you scoff. Actually scoff at him, and he hears it, the slur in your words. "Where are you?"
"If you don't need my help, I gotta go." He tries to speak, but you cut the call. This time when he sends you a message, chasing you up, he gets nothing else.
When he calls, this time it rings once and goes to voicemail.
There's a feeling in his stomach, like if he does not find you, you'll vanish. It is a feeling with no basis, but it burns and bites nonetheless. It brings him to his feet, and he determines to find you.
There's few places in Linkon he knows you hide, you are not at home, which narrows the places down considerably, as your usual haunts are not open at night. The noise in the back of your call, had at least made the job easier. Between himself, and Mephisto, he finally finds his way to a bar where he spots the flash of white hair.
Seeing it in the distance, always makes his chest tighten, and his half heart feel fragile.
Pushing his way through crowds, it is a vision that greets him. If he were more inclined to romanticism without realism, he could almost imagine the music dimming.
You hold a glass aloft in the air, eyes closed, as you dance freely amongst other humans. Hips sway, singing aloud to music you can barely be heard over, sweat drenching your skin. Droplets run down the expanse of your throat as you tip back your head, gets caught in the fabric of your shirt, and he watches another one down your bared stomach, soaking into the fabric of your shorts.
Sylus has been parched for centuries, lost in a desert, and now stares at an oasis. How you cannot see his greed, his desire, his clawing need, he will never know.
He is not a subtle man in this.
In all his time spent with you, he has never seen you like this. Carefree, the weight of the world fallen from your shoulders, all the grief out of your hands, as you dance, and sing, as loudly as you can. Surrounded by other humans, who do not know they dance with his beloved.
A stranger's hand is placed on your hip, you do not seem to notice, caught up in the music, and there is a moment where Sylus watches, where he is unsure whether he wants to be seen by you.
Every expression he gains from you, is worn and aching. You have come into this world different, fragile and sore. Biting at the bit for a monster to fight, and he hurts to think he might be that monster. That he has no cause to assure you that he isn't.
He did not steal the person you trusted most from you, but he is not innocent. He is not good.
He cannot wash the blood off of his hands yet.
There are others whose hands aren't scarred and sullied, that have never been claws to hurt you. A small part of his soul, wonders if turning around and leaving you to be amongst those less sculpted to be violent beasts, would be better. Stronger suited to your warm heart.
Until he feels your soul in his chest again. Under the blissful, drunk, expression on your face. It aches, mourns, misses, and hurts.
Lonely…
It hurts to hear it so loudly. You are so, so lonely, even surrounded by people. No matter that you have sought out a crowd as big as you could, that you have drowned sorrows to the point of spilling, that you silenced the voices as best you could.
You still cannot escape it.
He hears it, he hears you.
He cannot leave you alone.
His feet bring him to you, a hand reaching out to steady you as you stumble forward a little, preventing the glass in your hand from falling. It splashes on his jacket, and he watches as you open your eyes, ready to apologise, before the sight of him stops you.
Your eyes widen, mismatched and sparkling. Jewels.
His treasure.
"Sy?" The nickname slips out of your mouth, and he feels it down his spine, familiarity and warmth. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to see you, kitten." He leans in so that he can hear you properly, the song of your voice against his cheek as he speaks against your own. Nose against your skin. There's a moment where his hunger spikes, and he wants to flick his tongue against the sweat on your skin, before he remembers where he is. Remembers you're drunk. He fights it back.
Parched.
If this is how humans feel with their desires, no wonder they are driven to madness.
"I…" You blink at him, doe-eyed and soft, stunned. He watches and he waits, for you to figure out what to say. "Hi." Is all he gets, but it's exhaled, and he watches the small quirk of your lips. The softening of your eyes. "Dance with me?"
He can only assume the liquid confidence contributes to the way you down your drink, he takes the empty glass and floats it somewhere away from you, before you extend your hand. In all the time he has adored you, he has never been offered a dance from you. He has hinted, he has desired, he has asked.
You have never asked him. Every invitation is his to extend, seeking you out while you pull away from him, like you're scared. Yet he's not sure what of. You don't seem scared of him, challenging him whenever you find him disagreeable. You are a puzzle he has not finished piecing together.
He wonders if he ever will.
He must stare at your hand too long, because you tilt your head, "I thought you liked dancing?"
"I do."
"So? You don't want to dance with me?" It's said softly, with pain sneaking its way into your voice, and he has to stop himself from reaching out to you.
He doesn't know how to dance here, looking about him at people who do not follow steps he knows. That he has learned, for you. He knows how to dance in a ballroom, how to follow moves that are structured, because he has learned them. This follows a rhythm, and he cannot always hear it.
It's almost like fear… if you find him lacking, when you have finally sought him out.
"Sy-" The warmth in his chest, in his spine, in his soul. Sy. Sy. Sy. It is not a pet name, but it is familiar. It is said softly. So very softly. You take his hand, pulling him forwards. He stumbles only because he would let you lead him anywhere, and because he is too distracted by the warmth of you against his skin. Your hand moves over the front of his shirt, up to his neck, and you poke him, "Just have fun. That's all that matters."
An easy ask, when you're involved.
He is not a patient man, he thinks, but for you, he is. He will always have enough patience, enough joy, enough love for you. If only you would see it.
There are few times he loses track of time, used to a busy schedule, and a need to solve issues as soon as they arise. He does not know how long he spends with you in a bar he has no interest in, surrounded by people he cares little for, because he spends it with you in his arms. Unconcerned with the world, your scent wrapped around him, your skin against his, and your voice in his ears.
When you're finally worn out, and ready to leave, he is reluctant to lose the heat of you. Waiting for the moment he steps out of the bar, for you to pull away. Hold him at arm's length. Look at him with that gaze he cannot decipher.
He keeps his hand in yours as you leave, walking the distance to your apartment. Unwilling to leave you alone, or drive back when he feels drunk off you. The cherry wine of your soul is strong and delectable. He thanks his soul, and yours, that he is better at controlling himself than he feels.
You wobble a little as the two of you walk, keeping yourself upright using his arm, and though he offers to carry you, you shake your head. Laughing to yourself as you take careful steps, like a newborn deer.
It is minutes into the walk, along the quieter streets, that you finally speak, looking over at him, "So why did you really come?"
"I told you kitten, I wanted to see you."
You bite down on your lip, and he tugs you to a stop, to ease it from between your teeth with his thumb. Staring down at you as you look up at him. Eyes soft, wet. Hunger and desire.
He is a better dragon than a beast, he assures himself.
"No job?"
"I hardly feel you'd be useful in a fight right now, kitten."
It is the wrong thing to say, Sylus realises as you flinch, frowning, "Right, of course."
"Why do you think I need your assistance?"
"It's the only time we talk. A job, help, because you want to negotiate… or-" You bite your lip again, and he strokes over your bottom lip with his thumb this time, placing the tip of it on the fat, holding it there. If you want to bite yourself, you'll have to bite through him.
"We can talk whenever you like." He speaks, and he hopes he conveys it better. Warm, and full of the adoration he feels. His appearance can be useful, can be a curse, and when he fears you do not see past sharp eyes and features, the worst thing he can think of.
He just wants you to hear his voice, and his words.
"Whenever?" You ask, "What if I say all the time?"
"I'll answer whenever I can."
"Except when you're being a big bad crime boss?"
Sylus laughs, moving his hand to your cheek, pinching it gently, "Even then, sometimes."
He watches, and waits, as the fear eases out of your expression, as you soften again. As your soul in his chest, so very noisy, settles and eases back to wrap around his. A slumbering dragon that matches his own.
"It won't bother you?"
There's a sigh he has to bite back, because he remembers you angry and full of fire, and broken. He remembers that amidst all the strength is a soul that has been twisted against its will. He takes your face in his hands, tilting your head up to look directly into his eyes, and smoothes his thumb over your cheeks, "You are worth the time, kitten. Worth the work. Worth it all. You could never bother me, in any way I do not want. Do you understand?"
He watches the tears well, and then be fought back down, but he leans down anyway, presses a kiss to just above your eye, where you had kissed lifetimes ago. You may not remember, but he can only follow what you taught him of love. Even if it will take a while before you believe it of him.
"I understand." You nod, hand tightening on his shirt, crinkling the fabric between your fingers. "Then… come to the cafe with me tomorrow?"
He sees you step over the chasm, the flames in your mismatched gaze as you watch him carefully, fingers shaking against his chest. Like you're waiting for him to laugh, or pull away. Instead he presses your hand further against his chest, so you can feel it. The unsteady dance of your hearts, and chuckles. "Planning to lose a card game to me, my little kitten? Sounds like a plan."
You pout, sticking your tongue out at him, and then laugh. The same carefree warmth he felt when he watched you dance, except this one is shared with him, and he feels sick with the satisfaction of it.
He'll message you tomorrow, to remind you of what you promised, and as he drops you off at your apartment, stunned when you return a kiss to his cheek before rushing away from him…
Well, he'll remind you over and over if he must.
He'll move mountains so he can comfort your lonely soul, and remind it of steady warmth and unrestricted love.
summary: the aftermath of what happened in skyhaven with pre-relationship sylus. hurt/comfort, exploring mc’s trauma.
A simultaneous sigh blooms from both of your lungs as the last wanderer crumbles into oblivion. The dust of its essence floated up to the polluted night sky of the N109 zone, painting artificial stars for the pair of victors below. Sylus lifts his gaze to you after he scrapes what’s left of the aftermath from his fingernails. He looks infuriatingly unaffected. You, however…
“You look like shit.” He remarks playfully, his eyes softening as he holds out his hand to help you up. You, like he anticipates, softly slap it away and get up on wobbly legs. “Fuck off.” You retort, still trying to catch your breath, and he simply smiles- striding next to you and subtly offering you his weight to lean on. You tried stubbornly standing on your own, but found yourself surrendering to his quiet help as you walked back to his bike.
“I’m not letting you ride back to Linkon like this.” He huffed, handing you his spare helmet, the one that is practically yours at this point. “Spend the night at the base.” Coming from him, it sounded more of a purring command than a gentle suggestion. “Get some beauty sleep.”
You had felt your muscles tense and your heart clenched as you were rapidly reminded of the last time you stayed over someone else’s place. The sound of doors locking, the pills, the confusion, the breathing man that you still mourned. Before you could refuse, though, a traitorous yawn escaped your throat. You knew he was right, that you were in no shape to travel home, and it’s not like he could exactly traipse into Linkon at the moment to accompany you. Besides, you’ve been fighting alongside him for a while now, and while he has little weaknesses, you’re willing to exploit them if need be. “Alright.” You breathe your surrender as you put the helmet on, bracing yourself for his driving skills.
Luke and Kieran greet you at the door like eager puppies. What happened, boss? Boss lady? Did ya kill something? How many? How bloody? Any guts?
Sylus held out a commanding hand and answered for you, thankfully. “Don’t ambush the poor girl, she’s beat up.”
You rolled your eyes at that. “I’m not beat up-”
“Come.” He holds his arm out for you, and you defeatedly take it, blindly following wherever he deigns to go.
“My head…” You groaned at the harsh overhead kitchen light being flicked on, rubbing your temples. “Does the big bad mob boss happen to have ibuprofen?”
“I’m not headache proof, believe it or not.” He exhaled a small chuckle. “Sit down.” He ushered you to the sofa across from the kitchen table. You obliged, but not because he told you to, of course. You were achey, dirty and exhausted. He held a glass of water in one hand and two pills in the other, and you hesitated slightly as you let him give them to you. Turning the pills over in your fingers with a squint of your eyes, you looked for the label etched into the chalky red circles to identify that it was, in fact, ibuprofen.
Sylus noticed. Of course he noticed, he always does. “What?” He tilts his head, confused, but his tone still holds a hint of safe and familiar teasing. “You think I’m slipping you something?”
Swallowing back those nagging memories again along with the medicine, you force a chuckle. “Can never be sure with a lawless scoundrel like you, can I?”
He grinned, one of those rare smiles of his, toothy and reaching for his ruby eyes. “I may be a lawless scoundrel, sweetheart, but I’m not a monster.”
Not a monster, because a monster would do that.
Your best friend in the whole world would do that.
A deep breath left you, ready to be rid of this conversation topic. “Can I take a shower?”
His wide grin melted down to his signature smug smirk once again. “In which wing?”
Sylus’s living situation was fucking ridiculous. Four bathrooms with showers, three of them with tubs. For, what, three people? You shake your head in disbelief as he leads you to a guest room. Just as lavish as the rest of the place, the first thing that stares back at you is the neatly made king sized bed. A leather futon sits across it, right next to an enormous closet. Before you can gawk at any other evidence of luxury in the room, he shuts the door behind you. Your gaze instinctively flies to the knob, the phantom click still ringing in your ears. Your shoulders hunch, posture stilling as you find yourself waiting for it— but the door remains unlocked. If Sylus noticed, he gave you the grace of ignoring it and deciding he teased you enough for now. He opens the closet, unhooking a hanger from inside, draping a plush back bathrobe from it. “This should fit you.” You ran your hands along the fluffy material, unable to stop touching it. “And could I wash my clothes after-“
“I will.” He assures you with an interruption. “Leave them outside the door. I’ll find something laying around for you to change into so you don’t have to wait for them to dry.” You nodded, not expecting this level of consideration from him. It brings an irritating, fond heat to your cheeks. “Right. Thank you.”
“Just being a good host.” He smirks, opening the bathroom door. The bathroom was, of course, also fucking ridiculous. Dark marble walls, spotless black tile floors. A black Japanese bathtub next to the spacious shower stall. Woody, spicy potpourri wafted through the air from a bowl on the sink. He moves to shut the door, and you turn. “Um…” Swallow. “Is it okay to keep the door unlocked?” He frowned in confusion, and you quickly added, “It’s the steam. Too much in an enclosed space, I get a headache and I already have one, so I-“
“Okay.” He simply agrees, leaving you no room to over-explain and lie further. You’re almost taken aback with the ease he’s treating you with, but if you think about it, he’s always just accepted. He may question once or twice, but always nods his head without judgment.
You showered all of the blood and grime off your skin, but the reminder of Skyhaven clung under your fingernails no matter how much you scrubbed. It was something you had been pushing away from the forefront of your mind for weeks, almost a month now.
It’s not what you think it is, you remind yourself as you clench your fist, watching the hot water droplets roll off your knuckles. It’s Caleb. He was trying to protect me…
“No, we’re not doing this right now!” You mumbled aloud to yourself. Think, think, think of something else. You abruptly turned the valve to the wall, the water turning freezing cold. Your breathing seemed to slow down with the ice hitting your veins, and by the time you caught two chills, you stepped out and toweled off. The robe felt nice against your damp skin, the fuzz of it all absorbing the water droplets quickly. Opening the door, you see the clothes Sylus left for you in a neat pile: two items. A black satin button down with an “S” monogrammed into the breast pocket with golden embroidery, and grey basketball shorts. A dry snort found its way out of your nose. What a look.
You swam in them, of course, but in a cozy way. You folded the waistband of the shorts until they would aptly rest on your hips, and you didn’t mind the way the shirt’s sleeves hung past your fingers. The shirt smelled like him. Like his stupidly nice cologne, the familiar scent of spices and leather on the collar.
You let your exhausted body drive you to sleep.
The door is locked.
The eyes you used to seek comfort in refuse to soften.
You blindly take his sleeping pills.
The door is locked.
He pins you down on the sofa, next to a photo of the two of you in a frighteningly similar position, play-fighting and laughing.
He threatens to wrap a collar around your throat.
Your pleas fall on deaf ears.
The man in front of you is breathing, but he is long dead.
The door is locked.
Your heart drops you awake, out of breath and eyes watery.
You are not in your bed.
Where are you?
You push the covers off you before you could even remember, rushing to swing the door open. The force of the mahogany hitting the wall got the attention of your gracious host.
“Sweetie…” A deep voice rumbled up your spine. Sylus.
You’re with Sylus.
The pet name lacked all the familiar playful condescension, more of a brace, a concerned approach to a wild, wounded animal. “What’s wrong?”
You don’t answer at first, your clouded mind still assessing the situation. Your shoulders relax a fraction as you register your surroundings, Sylus’s base. You spent the night here after a hunt. You’re with Sylus, you want to be here, and the door was unlocked. Your grip on the doorknob loosens. Sylus slowly comes out from behind you and into your field of vision. “Sit.” He ushers you back into the room, sitting on the bed and patting the silk sheets. You slowly obey, perching on the bed with your knees hugged to your chest. A gentle expression paints his face, something you could’ve sworn you’ve never seen before. “I’m going to ask again.” He urges softly, slowly, the brisk command his tone usually carried melted away.
You can lie to anyone in your life. You could have said it was a bug in your blankets. A noise, he thought of an intruder. Even a nightmare about something else. You can lie to anyone in your life, except for the man in front of you who looks worried for the first time you’ve seen it. You can lie to anyone in your life, except for the man who seems to know your very soul despite only knowing you for a handful of months.
You don’t even try, clenching your fists so tight you’re sure your fingernails would draw blood out of the meat of your palm.
“I can’t tell you…” You murmured, holding back the flood. “Because if I do, it becomes real.”
He frowned, his head tilting to the side slightly. He pushed a soft smile out of the corner of his mouth. “I won’t tell reality if you won’t, sweetheart.”
You exhaled out of your nose shortly, an amused puff of air followed by a sniffle. “No, I’m…it’s serious.”
“I know.” He sat back on his elbows, blanketing the atmosphere with a sense of leisure and ease. That was something you had to admit he was good at. “I’ve noticed.”
You turn to him. “What?”
“You checked the pills I gave you.” He started. “I thought that was a one off, maybe you being extra careful, but then you announced you were gonna shower with the door unlocked-“
You scoffed shakily. “Okay, I didn’t announce-“
“The point is…” He interrupted. “You’ve been…off tonight.”
You don’t know how to answer. You know that at this point, if you open your mouth, the tears will start free falling.
“You don’t have to explain.” Fuck him for always reading your mind. “But you just need to tell me you’re alright. No guest feels unsafe under this roof.”
“It’s not you.” You assure shakily, resting your chin on your knees. “It’s…a long story.”
He nodded, accepting again. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”
“Um…” You suck in a breath through your nose. Here we go. The tube of toothpaste is squeezed. Your voice is slow, measured as you continue. “Remember about three weeks ago I went to Skyhaven?”
You began to unload. From the top. He knew of the explosion, the one you wrongfully blamed him for. The reminder of that moment brings a flash of mortified heat to your cheeks, expecting him to bring it up. You pause for it, the tease, the coy ‘Yes, kitten, I’m so bad,’ but it doesn’t come. His eyes just pave a delicate path down your face, waiting for you to continue. You watch them widen slightly when you tell him your childhood best friend survived, and that you found him up there. Your words shake and choke in your throat when you get to the next part, tears pricking the back of your eyes. You squeeze them shut, and feel a feather-light weight on your hand; his covering yours. A soft affirmation, a silent I’ve got you. The action is so tender, it pushes even more tears to your waterline. You purse your trembling lips at the gentleness of it all, the opposite of the force you two exuded over one another when you first met. You shoot him point blank in the chest, and he holds your hand like it’s precious gold.
“Sweetie…” He looks at you as if the sight of your face twisted in tears makes him violently ache. “Don’t cry.”
Which of course, makes you cry more. He closes the distance between you within a second, pulling you into his side. “I’m trying not to.”
“I know, sweetheart, I know.” He whispers gently, rubbing his thumb over your bare shoulder, the collar of his shirt hanging off of you. “It’s okay. Take your time.”
It takes a few minutes to gather the words, because how exactly do you say, I think my best friend held me hostage in his home and slipped me pills but I think it’s not really him based on zero evidence?
His thumb stopped its soothing rhythm. “He what?”
You cringe and stammer. You feel caught, for some irrational reason. “I-I know what it sounds like, but-”
“No.” He shook his head, his tone still soft but firm. “No, you don’t have to protect him.” He has to bite back the snarl in his voice, fight to keep his words gentle. “Not after he does this…” He wipes a tear from your cheek, his fingers lingering on the skin for a moment. “Not after he does this to you.” His voice shakes alongside yours, for different reasons. “You don’t need to tell me anything more, but you don’t protect him, either.”
You look up at him, drawing in a deep breath. It makes you realize that’s exactly what you’ve been doing all this time, refusing to acknowledge it. While he was ruining you, you were protecting his memory. At the same time, though, what you know about the professor and Caleb’s abnormal behavior flipping like a switch makes you doubt it was fully him that did this to you. Even if it wasn’t, it doesn’t mean it didn’t affect you so deeply that you’re crying into the arms of the person you’d least expect. You watch his fists clench. “He didn’t…” A hesitation. “He didn’t touch you, did he?”
You vehemently shake your head and you could hear a small breath of relief. “It wasn’t like that.” You go to explain again, to defend him, but stop yourself. “It was so scary.” He breathes a deep sigh, tightening his arms around you.
“I know.” He whispers. “I know, sweet girl, but you were brave.”
You scoff tearfully. “No I wasn’t.”
“You’re here.” He pointed out, brushing his hand through your hair. “Not there. I know your prowess firsthand.”
A pathetic half-laugh exits your chest, followed by more sobs. He holds you even tighter as you cling to his grounding familiarity. He does that for as long as you need it, waiting patiently as he assures you you did the right thing, that you’re safe with him, that he could walk into Linkon and take you home right now, bounty be damned; whatever it is you need to hear.
“I’ve got you.” He whispers into your hair. Your head is atop his chest, laying down now. Your eyes are closed, and he can tell you’ve cried yourself to sleep. “Always have. Always will.”
When your breaths turn steady, he moves slightly to get his phone from his pocket. One hand on your back, the other on the keyboard, he types a message to Luke and Kieran.
Farspace Fleet Colonel. Lives in Skyhaven. Name’s caleb. Need any and all information there is to know ASAP.
Another message.
Boss Lady will not let you hurt him, as much as I am dreaming the different ways I could make him hurt right now. Do not go after him. Just watch.
Two pairs of thumbs up from the twins follow the message, not needing any further instruction or explanation. He locks his phone and leans his head against the pillow, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. It’s quiet now, the only sound surrounding him are your soft breaths and Mephisto’s caws into the night as he suddenly takes a trip up north.
decades after the destruction of judgement day, you return to the abyss meadow—now an empty wasteland. a painful walk down memory lane has you remembering all the sinful things sylus did to you on the day he’d brought you to the blooming field of blood-red datura.
━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: dragon!sylus x female reader (afab)
━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings/angst, angst with slight/no comfort (depends how you want to look at it), fluff, continuation of myths
━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 15.9k
━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, dragon!sylus, two dicks!sylus, dom!sylus, monsterfucking, HEAVY SPOILERS and references to sylus’s lore/myths (beyond cloudfall), themes of depression/trauma/loss of a loved one, marking (scratching and biting) and possessive behavior, implied virginity loss (both mc and sylus), slight BARELY coercion (trust me mc is more than willing), p in v, fingering with claws, eating out, face riding, horns as handlebars, belly bulge, belly swelling from cum, double penetration (in v), slight bondage with sylus’s tail, no protection, breeding kink, talks of mating and pregnancy, multiple orgasms, somewhat angst no comfort (depends how you look at it), has some comfort, some fluff, lots and lots of smut, knotting, fucking with knot, lots of overstimulation, boobie play, lots of making out, lots of biting, use of Y/N, use of petnames (sweetheart, little dragon, dove, sparrow, love, sorceress), slight references to ‘please & thank you’ fic (easter egg dialogue hehe), will add more warnings as needed
━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: wasteland song - has arcane spoilers (please listen to before reading) | wasteland song - no arcane spoilers | beyond cloudfall myths | ao3
━ ✧.˖ A/N: helloooooo she is finally here jfc. first and foremost PLEASE listen to the song linked above before reading as it was a HEAVY inspiration for the angst portion of the fic, as well as parts of the fluff. of course it’ll still make sense without watching and listening but i think it’s much more impactful with, otherwise the lyrics are whatever haha.
the song is wasteland - royal & the serpent from the netflix series arcane by riot games! highly recommend watching if you haven’t :)
secondly, this fic contains HEAVY HEAVY spoilers and references to ‘beyond cloudfall’ - sylus’s second myth set, which i’ve also linked above. if you haven’t done those and care about spoilers, i would not recommend reading this. also it won’t make as much sense if you don’t know what happened in those myths, but the smut still makes sense re: sylus is a dragon.
please enjoy <3 i will admit this was really difficult for me to finish, i don’t know what it was, i lost steam half way through and really had to force myself. i am not 100% happy with the way it turned out, but i also did really enjoy writing it! i think i cried multiple times writing this lmao
will likely be on a writing hiatus. if i do write it will be for caleb :D until next time friends. i love you <3
THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.
✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖
♫ I've held on for as long as I can,
For the ones that I had to defend,
I've been strong every day of my life,
If she wants, death could take me this time. ♪
♪ This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow,
I used to have strength, but I ran out of hope,
I know it's my fault that I'm here all alone,
This world is a wasteland,
Please let me go, go, go, go, go, go, go. ♫
♫ If I could just lay my head down and rest,
If there was nothing to fight or protect,
Maybe then I could finally be free,
Maybe death is like falling asleep. ♪
Hollow requiems echo in the recesses of your numbed soul, overtaken by the howling of the violent wind. Your heels crunch against barren ground, covered in fragments of basalt and granite, a speckled sea of death.
It was hard to imagine that this very valley was once covered in countless blossoming blood-red datura, peppered across the vast green fields of the meadow. Like the twinkling stars in the open night sky you’d spent many hours staring up at, atop the cliff top lair you briefly called home, years ago.
The memory of the blooming flowers, nestled against the stark contrast of those powerful ebony horns, the faint notes of requiems once sung under the gleaming moonlight, taunt you as they resonate in your aching mind. Your tail flickers, soul clenching in distaste.
Or perhaps it was your fragmented, barely-beating, heart. It was hard to tell these days.
You draw a shaky breath, willing your body to continue forward. It’d been decades since you’d last come here. After the events of the last Doomsday, events that you were all too familiar with, Philos had fallen to chaos and ruin. Tarus City was no exception.
And of course, the meadow had not been spared.
Guilt gnaws at you, clawing deeper than any beast ever could. The meadow–the resting place of your beloved. Your dragon.
Sylus.
Of course, it looked a little different now. Nothing like the day he’d pressed his lips to your forehead for the last time, his soul returning to the clouds above.
You stare out into the rolling hills of charred forests, the arid rivers snaking through the canyon like a dragon’s spine. Flecks of ember from the destruction of Doomsday still flit against the winds around you like dancing midnight petals. But there’s no flowers in sight. Not a single one.
The endless crimson mountain range stretches around you like an aegis, almost as if trying to protect the innocence that was once kept hidden here. A lifetime ago.
What a joke.
Everything you had ever held dear, ripped from your hands. Flaunted before you, reminding you of how helpless you’d been to fate’s cruel whims.
♪ This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow. ♫
“What I desire is to live freely and die without regrets.” You’d said that, once upon a time.
Did you?
If you died tomorrow, could you say you had no regrets?
Your fists clench at your sides, your claws digging into your palms, sure to break skin and draw blood. You knew the answer to that.
You’d devoted your life to filling countless troves with what treasures remained on the empty husk of Philos and enacting revenge on the members of the Sanctuary and Legion that’d survived Doomsday. Revenge and plunder, just like old times.
The day those horns had dawned from your head, your tail descending from your spine, you’d become one with Sylus. He gave you power; he gave you freedom.
So why now, when you’d accomplished everything you’d always wanted, did your life feel anything but free?
Everything you thought you’d wanted.
So what did you want now?
“You know, Tarus City can have flowers that bloom everywhere, as far as the eye can see.”
Your breath catches in your throat, the sound of his voice in your mind is as clear as the first time you’d heard it in the obsidian chapel. The same moonlit chapel in which you’d promised your souls to one another.
Lead weighs on your chest as you gaze out at the desolate fields, once a spiritual sanctuary for Sylus and you. Could it ever return to the way it was? Could flowers really bloom here again?
You’d give anything to see just one of those ruby moonflowers again, petals the same shade of scarlet as the eyes you’d dreamt of, time and again.
But like those beautiful eyes, you knew deep down. You’d never see those daturas again.
♫ I used to have strеngth, but I ran out of hope. ♪
You resolve yourself to go numb, as you had countless nights before, when dreams alluded you and nightmares sought you. Your body moves mindlessly on its own, your eyes glazed as you watch the cloudless sky above.
Would Sylus be disappointed if he saw you now? An empty shell of the sorceress that’d unsealed him from the Abyss and freed him in more ways than one.
Once upon a time, you could put on a brave mask in the face of losing your dragon.
But over time, the memory of his body, heavy and whole, fading in your arms, the petals of his soul slipping through your trembling fingers, etched itself into your soul. No matter how hard you tried to forget, you’d always remember. And because of that, your courage quickly turned into a searing rage that consumed every fiber of your being.
What would he think?
Well, you’ll never know will you? The voice in your head taunts, unmistakably yours, yet foreign and faraway.
Since you’re the one who plunged that sword into his heart.
♪ I know it’s my fault that I’m here all alone. ♫
Eventually, you find yourself atop a small clearing overlooking the entire valley. An eerie sense of familiarity grapples at you as you stare out into the horizon, feeling nearly as empty as the land before you.
You’re not sure when it started to happen. The days started to feel longer. You could no longer hear the melody in songs, see the beauty in patterns, taste the flavors in fruits you once loved.
All things unnecessary to a dragon’s survival.
Were you surviving? Your heart was beating, blood coursed through your veins, air traveled through your lungs, and yet…
You didn’t feel alive.
♫ This world is a wasteland. ♪
The wind howls on, the swirling ash making your eyes prickle. You turn on your heel to leave. There’s nothing left for you here. Nothing but fragments of the life you could’ve had, with Sylus.
But as the sun melts into the sky, descending into the crimson expanse of mountains, your soul is hit with memories so clear you double over, clutching your shoulder as it throbs.
“Only you and this flower…can touch me here.”
You stifle a sob, your other hand coming up to cover your mouth as you stare out into the bittersweet dusk. The way the waning light descends the scarlet contours, perfectly framing the once picturesque grove. And then it hits you, all at once like a wave crashing against you, pulling you under, until you can’t breathe.
This is the exact spot Sylus had taken you to the first time he’d brought you to the Abyss Meadow. After the night you’d promised your souls to one another.
The exact spot he’d let you weave those same delicate daturas into his horns, grimacing adorably the entire time as you did so. Where you rolled around the meadow grasses in his willful arms, revenge and the Sanctuary a long forgotten thought, just you and your dragon.
The spot he’d kissed you for the very first time. The first of what you’d thought would be a lifetime of kisses shared with him.
Where you’d shared yourselves wholly, bodies and soul, every touch a promise, every kiss a vow.
The mark on your shoulder burns, your vision hazing with tears that you’re not sure you can blame on the ash anymore. Clenching your eyes shut, you blink them away, trying to steel your resolve and push the memories back down, where you’d kept them hidden for decades.
♪ I'm not ready to face it. ♫
But they rattle violently in the cage you’d built for them, your spirit is unrelenting. Or perhaps, it’s the remnants of his own soul etched into yours that refuse to let you fade completely into the darkness.
♫ Don't go saying goodbye. ♪
Eventually the branding waves of agony that radiated from the bite thrum to a pulsing halt, replaced with a heat that was all too familiar. You finally crack open your teary eyes, your vision filled with the breathtaking canvas of sunset.
The colors cast the withered meadow in the same breathtaking glow from that day.
♫ There's a beauty in changes, and I wanna try. ♪
–
Red.
Growing up in the Ivory City, you were surrounded by nothing but the blinding incandescence of white marble that was said to symbolize purity and prosperity. On the other hand, the children of the Sanctuary had been conditioned to associate the color red with Doomsday, the Fiend, and death.
But as the flecks of vermillion heat sparkled in Sylus’s eyes, his sultry gaze flickering to your lips, you knew you’d never known a color so beautiful.
“But only for one person,” he murmurs, claws gently gripping your neck, his other hand stroking the datura he’d placed behind your ear. Sylus takes a second to admire the delicate flower, imagining Tarus City covered in them. And you, among them, serenading those familiar requiems for him.
His hooded eyes meet yours again, and a low growl elicits from his chest as his body is overcome with a burning need to claim you. His beloved.
“Sylus…” you plead breathily, squirming under his gaze and shifting atop him, still straddling him in the field of blooming red moonflowers. Sylus hisses, his slackened jaw twitching and his claws digging into your chin, bringing you closer.
“You had better watch yourself, my little sorceress,” Sylus purrs dangerously, fighting to maintain control, “I should warn you–”
Your heart hammers, pounding audibly in your ears, as Sylus pulls you the rest of the distance in. His bottom lip grazes against yours as his eyes flutter shut, his breath hot and sweet, “I don’t have the patience to wait any longer.”
He wastes no time before furiously crashing his lips to yours, claiming what was his. His claws are deliciously possessive as they trace your racing pulse, savoring the way your body trembles under his touch.
You moan into his open lips when his fingers softly wrap around your neck, the tips of his ebony talons tracing soft patterns into your skin. He smirks against your lips, taking the opportunity to push his hot tongue against yours, tasting every inch of you.
The world around you fades away, your senses filled with only him. You can vaguely feel his tail wrapping around your thigh, the tip stroking the bare skin of your calf as you tightly clutch his hips.
The raw passion of his tongue against yours makes it feel as if he’s nearly breathing fire into your soul, his body growing more demanding as he feels your heat pulse against the growing bulge in his pants. The intoxicating smell of your arousal nearly sends him into a frenzy, and it takes everything within him to not throw you under him right then and there.
When you finally pull away to breathe, you’re a panting blushing mess. Sylus on the other hand only smirks up at you, his frustratingly beautiful face lightly dusted in a peachy sheen. Overcome with the urge to wipe the smug look off his face, you brush your thumb across his kiss-bitten bottom lip, forcefully resituating yourself on his lap. You bite back your grin when he hisses, his claws digging into the fat of your hips.
“What did you mean, when you said ‘you couldn’t wait any longer’?” you tease, fueled with confidence as you watch his vermillion eyes darken, the muscles of his abdomen tensing as your hands trace their way down his body. When your fingers graze the blood-red gem embedded in his chest, Sylus’s hand catches your wrist, his grip firm yet tender.
He brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing your palm into his lips, “Do you really need me to say it?”
You bat your eyelashes innocently at him, pouting, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Sylus’s chest rumbles as he chuckles, his eyes gleaming mischievously. His eyes never leave yours, the heated desire in them making the arousal between your legs increase, as he kisses your fingertips one by one.
“Dragons are solitary,” he says, kissing the pad of each finger. His tail uncoils from your thigh, only to loosely wrap around your waist, reminding you of how the mountain cat would twist its tail around your ankle.
“We grow up together, in packs,” his words are melancholic, as if remembering a painful memory, but when his ruby eyes return to yours they shine as bright as the waning sun above you, “But when we reach adulthood, we tend to go off on our own.”
You pondered his words, waiting for him to go on and doing your best to swallow the lump of emotions that’d formed in your throat at the thought of Sylus, alone for centuries. He nips at your fingers, his tongue coming out to lick tenderly at your skin.
The swirling heat in his crimson orbs are shadowed under his thick eyebrows, the very eye you’d been so drawn to boring into your newly intertwined souls.
“Can you recall what that human said that day at the market? The merchant?”
You nod curiously, biting back the shiver as Sylus continues to lick at your skin, daring further and letting his canines graze you, “Yes. That the Fiend would meet his destined archnemesis once more.”
His hands abandon yours, settling instead around your waist. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips as he beckons you down towards him, the corners of his lips quirking upward as he watches you squirm, a faint gasp escaping your parted mouth when his claws inch their way up your exposed back.
“Archnemesis…” he scoffs cryptically, pushing your body down against his chest, wrapping his thick arms around your smaller body, “Such a foolish human concept.”
Sylus shifts so that you’re lying completely on top of him, his tail securing you against his heavy abdomen, the unmistakable outline of something large and terrifying pressed against your core.
“Fate binds souls together–it’s written in the cosmos far above the clouds before the existence of time. Two souls that are a reflection of each other, in enmity and devotion. It’s much more than a mere destined archnemesis. This is the way of the world.”
The weight of his words begins to dawn on you, the meaning of them pressing heavily on your thundering heart. Sylus presses his lips to the mark he’d left on your shoulder in what felt like a lifetime ago.
“Ngh–!” you cry, Sylus’s teeth sinking into you. He bites down, tail constricting around you, wanting to hold you closer–tighter. You squirm against him, fingers pulling at his silver tresses, nearly seeing white as the pleasure and pain simultaneously shoots out from the crook of your neck, ebbing into every nerve of your body.
You can feel Sylus’s smug smile against your throbbing skin, his own hips coming up to grind torturously against you. He’d grown painfully hard, his cock unbearably hard in the restraints of his pants, fighting its way to get to you.
“Dragons live in solitude for the remainder of their lives,” he continues, his lips suddenly at your ear as you’re panting into his hard chest, trying to control your pathetic moans, “But some are fortunate enough to find–what you humans might call–their soulmates.”
Sylus grabs your jaw, forcing you to focus your hazy eyes on his. Though his grip is bruising, his thumb strokes soothing circles into your skin.
“A dragon mates for eternity, in this life and the next. There is only one–if even that.”
“Archnemesis, soulmate, mate. Call it what you will,” he whispers huskily, the desire in his voice palpable as he brings your chin in, his eyes darkening with a mix of lust and adoration. Your chest flutters as you take in the implication of Sylus’s words. The puzzle pieces of your fractured life began to fall into place–the Sanctuary, the weapon inside you, the golden lamp you’d treasured. Everything.
“I have known your soul was destined for mine, long before you pulled that Gods-forsaken sword out of my chest,” Sylus growls, nearly feral as the last of his patience snaps. You dissolve into a fit of squeals as Sylus effortlessly flips you under him, his hands cupping the back of your head and your lower back protectively as your body hits the plush meadow grass.
“And I can’t wait a moment longer.”
He wastes absolutely no time in bringing your lips to his once more, swallowing your moans and replacing them with his own heated breath. Your hands claw at any part of Sylus they can reach, nails leaving behind a red trail of passion that makes him groan with excitement.
Possessed with the need for more, you wrap your thighs around his waist, using your legs to cage him against you. Sylus’s grip in your hair tightens as he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your feverishly panting lips. His other hand comes down to clutch your thigh, his fingers crawling under your dress.
“Y/N. Do you know what you’re doing?” he pants, chest heaving, pupils blown with a lust so dangerous that your instincts are screaming at you to run. You bring your hands up to cup his face, mustering up all your courage.
“Why don’t you enlighten me?” you whisper, your eyes fluttering as you trail your fingers down his chest, resting them right above his belt and letting your fingernails delicately stroke the hair that leads to his pelvis.
A primal snarl erupts from Sylus’s chest at your blatant teasing, and in the blink of an eye you find your wrists bound above your head, his thick tail wrapped around them like a rope, his knee forcing your thighs apart.
“Just so you know, my love,” he leans in, face inches from yours, his arrogant smile hauntingly beautiful and terrifying all at once. He dips into the crook of your neck, heated breath washing over your mark, “Dragons are not known to show mercy.”
“I can handle it, Sylus,” you retort defiantly, though your trembling voice almost betrays you. Sylus only chuckles, his eyes glinting wildly at you, swirling with the darkness of all the things he wants to do to you.
“That’s my girl.”
You’re unable to speak further, crying out when Sylus’s fingers, that’d found their way under the skirt of your dress, demandingly cup your leaking sex, his lips latching onto the burning mark on your shoulder once more.
His tongue on your neck alone is enough to have you writhing under him, begging and pleading for more. The pleasure is so overwhelmingly blinding that your eyes are squeezed shut, body convulsing involuntarily to even his gentlest touches. You’d surmise that it must’ve had something to do with what he’d said about your fate bonded souls, that made your body react so violently to his.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t let you ponder it further, his finger dipping in between your dripping core to snap your attention back to him.
“Are you still with me, sweetheart?” he coos, brushing his middle finger up and down your weeping slit, careful to only brush against you with his calloused skin, keeping his claws tucked away. You glare up at him, weakly slapping his forearm that was wedged between your shaking thighs. You open your mouth to snark at him, but Sylus uses that moment to stroke your clit with the pointed edge of his talon.
“Sylus!” you cry, halfway between a moan and a scream, “Ahhngh–p-please!”
“Mmm? What’s that?” Sylus murmurs, twitching his fingers to ever-so-slightly caress your aching clit with his claws. “Begging for more already?”
Your back lifts off the ground, the feeling of his fingers on your cunt so sharp and dizzying that your mind is caught between wanting to squirm away but needing to chase more. But it seems your body knows exactly what it wants, arching further into his hand, forcing his fingers further into you.
Your hands come up to grasp the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair and gently stroking the base of his jagged ebony horns. Sylus freezes, his jaw tightening, a choked grunt escaping him, despite how badly he tries to hold it back. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you.
“Sylus?” you whisper incredulously, your fingers pausing, “Does that hurt?”
Sylus doesn’t answer, his breath coming out in shallow and needy pants, eyes shut as he hovers above you. His fingers have stilled, though still between your folds. Your worry dissipates when your eyes drift down, trailing down his trembling abdomen, all the way to the lump in his lap that ruts desperately against your thigh.
It’s then you realize that your formidable dragon does indeed have a weakness.
How adorable.
So with Sylus’s finger still parting your soaked lips, you use one hand to tenderly grab one of his horns, the other hand coming down to palm his bulge. His reaction makes you bite your lip with satisfaction, as his knees nearly buckle, still hovering above you, and his eyes filling with a volatile hunger.
“You never learn do you?” he bites out, but he doesn’t pull away, his body only leaning further into your touch. His head nuzzles ever so slightly into your fingers that are still intertwined into his hair, stroking his horns.
“I would say I’m faring quite well, wouldn’t you agree?” you croon, emboldened by the way his hips thrust down into your open palm, even if only imperceptibly.
At your adorably bold words, Sylus smirks at you, head cocked in amusement. His red eyes glimmer, a thick cloud of predatory desire swirling in the pools of garnet.
“You shouldn’t taunt a dragon, my love.”
You shriek when Sylus’s finger enters you, claw and all. You’re so wet that the brief sting of his lethal talon only serves to intensify the overwhelming waves of ecstasy he’s so deliberate in giving you. His finger moves so intentionally inside you, careful to only use the tip of his claw in ways that will have you clenching him for more.
Sylus swears under his breath as he watches the way you writhe against the ruby flora, his erection growing unbearably painful and wet within the constraints of his pants.
Dragons may not have the ability to recognize beauty. But as you clung to him, nails digging into his skin, sweet voice only capable of calling out for him, your wide eyes fluttering open and shut in overwhelming ecstasy…
Sylus knew there was nothing more beautiful in this world.
“Sy-Sylus,” you cry, “It’s t-too much. C-can’t–!” The dangerous feeling of his claws inside you is starting to make you delirious, your head dizzy with the need to come undone all over his fingers. The foreign pressure in your abdomen scares you into trying to scamper away from his hand, finger flicking inside your constricting walls
“Hm? Don’t you trust me sweetheart? I know exactly how much my little dragoness can take,” he murmurs gruffly, his thumb pressing harder into you. It seems Sylus knows exactly what he’s doing to you, because his tail wraps firmly around your waist, locking you in place, demanding you receive every bit of him.
“You can take another, hm?” he asks, but his tone all but commands it.
Your eyes widen; honestly you don’t think you can. Just one of his fingers has you feeling like you might pass out from the unfamiliar feelings of pleasure. Just one of his fingers has you feeling so full you might combust.
He’s on his knees between your legs now–the juxtaposition of such a formidable being kneeling before, pleading for your pleasure, makes your body clench with even more anticipation.
“D-don’t know if I ca-aan,” you whimper brokenly, body still pathetically arching into his hands, chasing an ecstasy you don’t even know if you can handle.
Sylus tuts gently, “Tch–you can. I need to stretch you out here before anything else can happen.”
You shiver at his words, trusting the foreboding warning wholeheartedly. Sylus was a dragon, after all, and you had no doubt he would be well-endowed, like everything else about him. Probably much more than your poor human body would be able to take.
And the thought of that alone makes you crave him like nothing before.
So you nod slowly, and Sylus smiles, the pride evident in his eyes.
“Good girl.”
Sylus tips your chin up towards him with the tip of his claw, capturing your lips into a kiss that steals your breath away. At the same time, he slips another finger into you.
He swallows your cries, and your fingers frantically grab hold of the grass around you, tearing and shredding at the green blades. If it weren’t for his tail wrapped around your waist, holding you in place, you’d be thrashing wildly, the ecstasy of his two fingers and claws inside your plush walls nearly unbearable.
Sylus’s nips at your lips, before his tongue replaces them and stakes claim to every inch of your mouth. He groans into you, using his spare hand to palm his painful erection, still restrained in the confines of his pants. When he pulls away, saliva dribbles down your chin, his lips trailing kisses down your jaw and to the shell of your ear.
“So tight around just my fingers,” Sylus seethes hungrily, his hand moving faster now, breath coming out shallow and hot against your ear, “I’m the only one that’s ever been here, hm?”
He curls his fingers inside you, his claws grazing just slightly against the spongy surface of your walls, demanding a verbal response from you. His voice drips with a possessive intensity that makes your entire body throb.
“Of course,” you whine, slightly embarrassed as your body arches up to meet his hand's ministrations, close to coming undone, “Wh-When would I have…at the Sanctuary…?”
A deep and satisfied rumble of satisfaction comes from Sylus’s chest, as he buries his face into your neck, inhaling your scent. Almost like a purr.
“Mine.”
With two of his fingers scissoring in and out of you, stretching you out to your max, you quickly feel like you’re about to absolutely burst, the edges of your vision turning white, stars clouding your sight.
“Ngghnh–Syluus…” you slur, your eyes watering, slightly terrified, “C-can’t anymore. Feels like m’gonna explode–!”
Sylus growls excitedly, fingers moving more insistently, literally trying to pull the orgasm out of you. The sounds of his palm slapping against dripping pussy grow louder and louder, all your senses overwhelmed until you’re on the verge of losing consciousness to it all.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Sylus praises, his canines at your earlobes, his own voice tinged with a primal hunger that’s barely held back by a thin string of restraint, “Cum for me, just like that.”
Though his words are simple, there’s an underlying command that lies just beneath the surface. Sylus would never stoop as low as to beg for anything, dragons were incredibly prideful beings after all, but more than anything he needed to see you cum, right now–for the very first time. Something he’d imagined more times he’d care to admit, on the many late nights you’d shared looking up at the moon after a journey of ravaging and plundering treasures.
So instead of begging, Sylus sinks his teeth into the brand on your shoulder, once again laying his claim on you. Your sweet taste fills his mouth and he can’t stop the muffled moan that escapes him, devouring you to his absolute content, fingers never faltering once.
Your eyes roll into your head at the indescribable sensation of pain and pleasure that surge from your neck, the shockwaves connecting with the same spasms of ecstasy that emanate from his fingers buried in your cunt.
“Sy-Sylus—! Ngh–It’s c-coming!” you can’t stop yourself from screaming unabashedly, though it didn’t matter as Sylus made sure there wouldn’t be anyone for miles and miles, for this very reason.
He doesn’t respond, alternating between biting and licking affectionately–aggressively–at the place he had marked you as his. His tail tightens around you, making you feel so deliciously suffocated, in the best ways. Making it feel like your very life depended on him.
Your next breath of air, your unrelenting pleasure, your soul.
Sylus, Sylus, Sylus.
With a strangled cry of his name, you feel the foreign sensation of a tension cord snapping in your gut, followed by a warm gush of mind numbing euphoria that consumes your entire quivering body.
Sylus swears under his breath, his fingers slowing but not stopping, helping you ride out the lasting waves of your very first orgasm. He releases your tender skin from his teeth, his hot breath blowing against you. His claws capture your chin between them, gently pulling your head back down to meet his eyeline.
“Look at the mess you’ve made, Y/N,” Sylus hums, slipping his fingers out of you and lifting them so you can clearly see the way they’re dripping with something clear and wet. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment.
“It’s not m’fault,” your voice comes out annoyingly shaky, still recovering from the earth-shattering experience. You swat his hands away weakly, “Stop. S’embarrassing.”
Sylus chuckles, letting you push his hands back towards him. But he tenses suddenly, the thick muscles of his arms locking. The planes of his sharp jaw twinge, his entire body rigid, like he’d just been struck by lightning.
“Sylus?” you whisper, sitting up and cupping his cheek into your palm, “What’s wrong?”
Sylus’s eyes are locked onto his fingers, his nostrils twitching. You’re mortified when Sylus brings his fingers to his face, his movements almost trancelike.
“Don’t do that,” you protest, eyes wide, moving to grab his wrist. But Sylus dodges you easily, swiftly removing his arm from your grasp, the smell of you on his fingers intoxicating him to the point of madness. The sheer primal hunger in his blood-red eyes is so far away, you almost don’t recognize him.
You’re acutely aware that you’re currently no more than a little rabbit trapped in a lion’s den. If it weren’t for the way his tail still wrapped around your waist so tenderly, you’d think he was the same Fiend that nearly lost himself and killed you that day.
Sylus doesn’t speak, his chest heaving erratically as he brings his fingers up to his lips, tongue catching every rivulet of your slick. His pupils dilate, locked onto you, a storm of emotions brewing beneath the carmine pools, his primal instincts nearly taking control. One thing swims to the surface above them all.
Hunger.
In a fraction of a second, you find yourself pinned to the grassy floor again, your head thudding to the ground against Sylus’s protective hand. Your wrists are bound above your head, with one of your thighs held open by Sylus’s tail and the other with his knee. His lips are everywhere, first at your neck, then down your shoulder, lingering at your mark, then trailing down your collar, to your breasts.
“Mm–ngh! Sylus?” you can hardly speak as he lingers at the swell of your chest, “What are you doing?”
“I can taste you,” he hisses, reaching your naval. You can vaguely recall the conversation you’d had with him awhile back–that dragons couldn’t understand a song’s melody or see the beauty in patterns.
Taste the flavors in food.
“More,” is all he’s capable of biting out, before prying your thighs apart. Of course, Sylus had no idea what it meant for something to taste sweet, how the burgundy jewels of the pomegranates you loved so much tasted. But if he had to take a guess…
They’d be nothing compared to the honey he had found between your legs.
“But–I thought dragons c-couldn’t…ah–!” you trail incredulously, yelping as Sylus hooks one of his arms under your knees, sweeping you briefly off the ground so he can yank your skirt off in one swift motion.
You’re left in only your drenched undergarments, skirt thrown somewhere to the side as Sylus resumes his relentless journey into your inner thighs, leaving a trail of angry hickeys in his wake.
“We can’t,” Sylus pants into you, suckling on the soft plush of your thighs, eyeing the glistening folds of your cunt that peek through your sodden panties like his next prey. He’s so close that you can feel his hot breath against your core, and it only makes you wetter.
“But apparently I can taste this.”
The moan you let out is more beautiful than any melody you could ever sing for him, as his mouth closes over your clit, tongue wedging between your slicked lips.
“W-Wait Sylus, m’sensitive!” you protest, still coming down from the way he’d just made your body explode minutes earlier, your core quivering against the heavy demand of his lips. But as you sit up on your elbows and peer down at the silver-haired dragon between your legs, taking one look at Sylus, you know there is absolutely no getting through to him.
Sylus has his mouth latched onto you, like he’s trying to drink your essence right from the source. His nose is buried right beneath your clit, every slightest movement causing the strong ridges to brush against the taut bundle of nerves, making it difficult for you to think straight.
You try to sit up further, but Sylus’s large palm comes up to flatten against your stomach, forcing you back down. He looks up at you, eyes dark and eyebrows furrowed, practically glaring at you.
“Don’t deny me of this,” he growls pleadingly, the sheer need in his voice making your toes curl against the grass.
The strength of his hand has you flopping back down, your body already succumbing to Sylus, yet again. You want to curse your traitorous body as it grinds into his greedy mouth, your mind battling your body’s instinct to chase the feelings that only Sylus can seem to give you.
Why not just give in? That’s what Sylus had been teaching you, right?
Live freely and die without regrets.
You grab two fistfulls of Sylus’s soft silver hair, pulling him impossibly closer to the apex of your thighs, shivering as he moans into you. His thick arms wrap around your thighs, holding on greedily, claws digging in.
“I should punish you for keeping this from me,” Sylus pants, pulling away for a brief second, giving you a pointed smirk. He uses his thumb to wipe the sheen of your arousal from his bottom lip.
“You can’t always get what you want Sylus. Sometimes you have to work for it,” you quip breathlessly, reeling from the sudden lack of his warm and wet tongue.
Sylus chuckles, dark and rich. The dangerous glint in his ruby eyes is one that is all too familiar to you. Your skin crawls, pebbling with goosebumps, and before you can scamper away from him, his fingers come down with a resounding wet ‘smack’ against your unsuspecting cunt.
“Sy-Sylus!” you cry, halfway between a screech and a moan, your body convulsing into a painful arch as it reaches up to meet his palm. Sylus uses that moment to hook his other hand under your back, lifting your body up with one arm, and hoisting you into the air.
You flail as he swings you around, pulling at his hair until you grasp his horns. Sylus hisses, and you find yourself back on the soft grass matted floor. But this time you’re on your knees, straddling Sylus’s face.
“Sylu–ngh!” your eyes widen when his tongue licks at your slit, “P-Please! This is embari-ngh-sing!” It’s impossible to get your words out coherently when his tongue is moving so insistently, trying to drain every drop of your essence.
He digs his claws into the tops of your thighs, trying to pull you down, despite the way you fight to keep yourself propped up on your heels.
“Don’t resist,” he tuts, his voice muffled and rough, “Sit, love.”
”No!” you protest petulantly, sobbing in ecstasy as he sucks down hard on your clit, as if punishing you for your disobedience, “I’m heavy. Don’t wanna squash you.”
“Do you truly think so little of me?” he scoffs, positively offended, his breath warm against your core, “Sit. Now.”
You bite your lip in uncertainty as you stay hovering above him. Sylus remains patient, indulging himself instead by sinking his teeth into the soft skin of your inner thighs. You tremble, nearly doubling over as he suckles on your leg, biting a trail of flowery bruises leading up to your core.
You remain stubbornly, but shakingly, upright. Sylus sighs, losing his patience completely and yanking you down by your thighs, leaving you with no choice but to completely fall onto his waiting mouth.
Your eyes roll back, knees buckling entirely, when Sylus’s tongue enters you, stretching you out over his overeager lips. Your entire body nearly gives out, as you fall forward, your hands barely coming out in time to catch you before you collide with the meadow floor.
But when your palms are supposed to meet the grassy floor, Sylus catches them instead, your fingers intertwining desperately. The tips of his claws stroke your burning skin, terribly soothing compared to the way his tongue was ravishing you so filthily.
Your body reacts to him so readily, your hips starting to grind down almost instinctively, much to Sylus’s satisfaction. His cock twitches, heart nearly pounding through the veins that bulge along the sides, at the idea of you using him for yourself. He hums in pleasure, pressing a teasing kiss to your clit and whispering, “That’s it sweetheart, take what you want from me.”
His words make you squirm. Your hands card through Sylus’s soft silver locks, grabbing hold of his ebony horns for leverage. Sylus growls at your core, the vibrations of his low rumble making you writhe and grind harder onto his lips, your body being pushed toward another explosive release.
“Hah, c-can’t anymore!” you cry, gripping his horns tighter, riding his face for dear life. Sylus doesn’t speak, but his enthusiastic tongue wordlessly conveys his words for him.
You might not be able to, but you will.
Your thighs cling to him, hips rolling into him with wild abandon. Everything about him, his honeyed words, his expert tongue, his possessive fingers make your body desperate for more, to take everything it wants. You’re so lost in your own pleasure that you don’t notice the way Sylus is likewise losing his mind beneath you.
The way you grip his unbearably sensitive horns makes him jerk with need, the taste of your arousal a never ending drug on his tongue. Above all, the way you rode him, the way your body sought exactly what it desired, the way you surrendered to desire, to him, in this moment.
You truly were the other half of his soul.
“O-Oh go–od Sylus!” you moan brokenly, your voice hoarse from the incessant cries, bordering on screams, for him. Your thumbs dig into where his horns meet his scalp, your chest heaving violently as you try to stay upright on his tongue, coming undone across his eagerly waiting lips.
Sylus growls in relief, his enthusiasm bordering on obsession. His tongue laps up every honeyed drop, savoring a taste he knew he’d become all too addicted to. Luckily for him, he’d have you for the rest of eternity. And he fully intended on tasting you, devouring you, every day of his life.
As you start to climb off his face, Sylus grabs you before you can crawl onto the floor, away from him. He carries you as delicately as he would the blooming daturas that surround you, laying you before him, settling between your parted thighs.
“Sylus,” you murmur breathlessly, looking up at him. The waning sun peeks out behind his head, the sky a sunset sorbet that is beginning to melt into the indigo of approaching night. With the fading sun behind him, he is an utterly devastating sight for sore eyes.
You loop your arms around his neck, dragging him down to you. He grunts, letting himself be pulled down to you, a ghost of a smile on his kiss bitten lips.
“I want…” you murmur hoarsely, trailing off as you let your fingers fall, tracing the muscles of his chest, drifting further south until they are grazing the defined contours of his abdomen.
Sylus’s fingers grasp your chin, bringing your eyes back up, where you meet his fiery gaze. His thumb presses into your bottom lip, prying your mouth open gently.
“Go on, my dove,” he hums, his voice practically a purr as he presses the lethal tip of his claw onto your tongue, “Tell me what it is you want.”
You open your lips to speak but between your sore throat, parched from your incessant moans, and the foreign desire still growing in both your gut and your heart, you were far too ashamed to speak further. But with the way Sylus was staring at you, his right eye flickering dangerously, you knew he could see right into your soul.
Sylus’s lips turn up into an absolute shit-eating smirk, his beautiful deep garnet irises gleaming with a rich amusement.
“Can’t speak anymore?” he chuckles amusedly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“That’s alright,” he murmurs, his voice taking on a snarl that’s simultaneously dangerously edged yet velveteen. The ends of his claws trace your pulse as his fingers venture down, making your breath hitch. You shiver, giddy at the idea that those very talons, that were capable of such destruction, were now caressing you with so much tender passion.
“All you’ll need to be able to say is Sylus, hm?”
You light absolutely ablaze at his filthy words, your stomach churning in anticipation at what you know is coming. What you want more than anything you’ve ever known.
His fingers, that’d found their way to the swell of your chest, shred the delicate straps of your corset with the slightest flick of his claws. You squeal as your naked body is exposed to the elements, writhing as the wind nips at your bare skin.
“Hey!” you protest hoarsely, sitting up, your arms darting to wrap around your chest, “Was that really necessary?!” But of course, Sylus is far quicker than you. He catches your wrists easily, holding them in his hands, leaving you beautifully exposed before his hungry eyes.
“No,” he smirks cheekily, face coming inches from yours, his breath fanning across your lips. You glare at him in annoyance, which only makes his grin widen.
“Now it’s my turn to take what I want,” he murmurs, pushing you flat against the grass. With your hands still restrained against his palm, he kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of claiming bruises along the way.
“Beautiful. The truest treasure,” he rasps between kisses. He lingers on the mark on your shoulder, not being able to help but to indulge himself there.
A stream of unabashed moans escape your lips as Sylus bites down, hard. So hard you think he might draw blood. His canines are so close to your pulse; your instincts scream at you to flee, but your soul forces you to stay.
Pain and pleasure, it was all the same. If Sylus was giving it, you wanted it.
This is the man fate had destined for you. Your dragon.
And you fully intended to show him that as well.
With his head at your shoulder, his own neck exposed to you, you couldn’t help but press your lips into his pulse. Sylus tenses in surprise, unwittingly sensitive, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, his body bucks into yours, his pelvis pressing into you, as if desperately seeking something from you.
“You never learn do you, my little sparrow?” he bites out, his voice rough and raspy. Despite his words, he doesn’t pull away in the slightest. You smile into his neck and gently sink your teeth into his soft skin, desperate to mark him in the same way he’d marked you.
Sylus's breath grows erratic against you, his chest heaving unsteadily. His hands come up to hold you possessively against him, his powerful tail coils around your arched waist, like you might disappear at any second. Your fingers thread into his hair, hooking onto his horns again, as you continue to kiss into his neck.
But suddenly, Sylus is yanking himself away from you, his tail prying you off of him.
“Too much?” you mumble apologetically as you watch him straighten up, waiting for him to settle back down.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he props himself onto his knees, focussed and dangerous. Like a predator before the hunt.
“No. It’s not enough.”
With that, he’s undoing the buckle of his belt, his darkened eyes never leaving yours. You can’t help but bite your lip as you watch the bulging veins of his forearms, his hand reaching into his undone pants. Sylus looks devastatingly handsome as he undresses himself before you, eyeing you like his next meal.
You don’t get to see him pull himself out before Sylus is back on you, his lips fervently attacking yours. You don’t know what’s changed, because the Sylus that’s kissing you right now has completely thrown restraint to the wind, like he’s trying to claim every fiber of your being with this one kiss.
His body is so imposing atop yours that, even naked, you feel nothing but warm and safe in the evening breeze. He’s so close, you can feel his eyelashes on your cheek. But you can’t stop pulling him closer, moaning in satisfaction when he holds you bruisingly tighter.
Still, you want more of him.
Your hand inches down to grasp his manhood in your fingers, pulling away from the kiss with a choke. Being a dragon, you had no doubt that Sylus would be larger than what you’d been told was average from the other women at the Sanctuary. As soon as your fingers make contact, Sylus’s tail is roped around your wrist, the thick scales digging into your burning skin, his eyes filled with a volatile hunger.
He doesn’t pull you away. His tail wrapped around your wrist seems to be more of a silent warning.
If you continue, there’s no going back.
Sylus’s eyes follow you carefully, his right eye shining as he seems to read your every whim and wonder. Every doubt, every fear, every fantasy.
“You can take it, sweetheart,” he coos reassuringly, reading your mind like the back of his hand, thumb catching a stray tear you hadn’t even known had fallen, “I’ve more than prepared you.”
You eye him skeptically, taking a deep breath, peering down at where your bodies are firmly pressed together. Your breath hitches at how pathetically small your hand looks wrapped around him, his erection as beautiful as it was terrifying.
How many fingers had you been able to take earlier? Two?
You were fucked. Literally.
“Y/N,” Sylus calls, his voice taking on a tender warmth that you rarely heard from him, clearly able to read your nervousness.
He grips your chip and tilts your face back up to meet his eyes. Hoisting you up by your waist, he sets you on his lap so that you’re straddling him, wrapping your legs around his hips. His cock stands proudly, arousal smearing all over your bare navel, brushing against your clit as he presses you so deeply into his body that it rests between your leaking folds. Fitting like a puzzle piece.
“I have waited over a millennium for this. For you. I can wait a millennium more, until you’re ready.”
Your body immediately reacts to his profoundly heartfelt words, your chest constricting and your core fluttering. It’s not hard to decide what you want, right then and there.
“I trust you, Sylus,” you say firmly, voice still raspy and hoarse, “I want you. Please.”
Sylus curses under his breath. One forearm wraps around your ass, lifting you and his other hand angling himself so that his thick leaking head is nudging right at your entrance, begging to be inside you. You writhe at the friction, your hips rocking onto him on instinct.
The silver haired man growls, arms tightening around you like a vice, “You drive me insane, Y/N,” he rasps into your ear, his breath hot and heavy.
At long last, he presses himself into you. Crying out, your nails dig into his shoulders, sure to break skin. The discomfort was immeasurable, your body wildly confused by the intense pain but the strange feeling of intimacy.
“I don’t think I can–I can’t!” your hips locking, eyes welling with tears. The stretch was beyond anything you could have ever fathomed, and you were almost sure he would break you.
“You can, you can,” he soothes, almost desperately, like he was terrified you might ask him to stop. Every muscle in his body was locked and tense as he fought the urge to ram right into you, ravaging you like every instinct was telling him to do.
With even just the tip barely inside, he knew this was far too dangerous. The feeling of you wrapped around him was far too addicting, one of few things that threatened to make him lose all humanity to the untamed dragon blood flowing through his veins.
You always were his one weakness.
The urgency, the desperation, in his voice makes your tummy flutter, your body tightening in response to him.
Sylus hisses, his tail constricting around your waist, claws digging into the fat of your hips, “Don’t tighten up. Not if you want me to be gentle.”
“Am I?” you moan as he shifts, sinking slightly more into you, “M’sorry Sy. D-didn't mean to.”
A low rumble ripples from his chest as he does his best not to slam you down the rest of the way down onto the hilt of his cock. Which was nearly impossible because every time he moved at all, he swore your pussy was trying to choke him out.
“Is it all the way in yet?” you whisper, fighting to keep your voice level. You had never felt more full in your life, your gut on the verge of splitting. The pain and since dulled into a somewhat bearable ache, but it was by no means comfortable.
“Half way, love,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.
Your eyes widen in shock, “W-What?!” You look down between your bodies, and sure enough, Sylus was still hoisting you halfway above his impossibly massive member. There’s a faint smear of red across the sheen of your combined arousals. Your blood.
Before you can speak further, Sylus presses his lips to yours, stealing your breath as his own. He swallows your moans, his tongue and cock simultaneously sinking further into you.
A string of saliva connects your lips when he pulls away, his fingers tenderly holding your chin, his darkened scarlet eyes piercing into yours. His right eye glimmers with a dangerous edge.
“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he rasps, still hanging onto his last thread of his control, “You can take it all, can’t you? Perfect little mate.”
Your chest and core simultaneously flutters at his words and you’re fueled with a newfound confidence and an overwhelming wave of lust. It really seemed that Sylus knew exactly what to say to you to have you wanting more.
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you roll your hips, trying to inch your own way down him, practically able to feel his pulsing veins throbbing against your gummy walls. The pain from the stretch was still there, but Sylus had prepped you so thoroughly that it was beginning to be difficult to feel anything but good.
“I can take more Sylus,” you murmur into his ear, pressing a wet kiss into his throbbing pulse, “I want more.”
An animalistic snarl rips out from deep within Sylus’s chest. His fingers squeeze literally bruises into your hips as he whispers back into your ear, breath hot and heavy.
“Yeah? That’s my girl,” he rasps, trying to contain his hunger, before lowering you the rest of the onto his cock, seating you entirely on his lap.
He gives you a second to adjust, licking the tears that had started to stream down your cheek. It quickly feels unnatural, and you’re desperate for some friction, the pressure of him at your cervix too intense.
“Ngh–Sy-Sylus,” you moan, “Please, move–do something.”
Sylus twitches inside you, your words fueling him with the desire to breed you full of him, “You’re playing with fire, my little dragon.”
He wraps his thick arms around your body and begins to bounce you up and down on his lap, trying to keep a slow and gentle rhythm, doing his best to ensure you’d be in as little pain as possible.
Of course it didn’t matter, with his sheer size alone, pain was inevitable.
But so was pleasure.
Your body had begun reacting to Sylus all on its own, your hips rolling into Sylus’s sculpted abdomen, trying to pull him deeper into your saccharine heat.
“Ngh–haah…Sy-Sylus!” you splutter, fingers clawing deep red welts into the ropes of muscles on his back, “Feels…”
His tail tightens around your waist, the tip stroking along your thigh, almost affectionately. His pace grows increasingly more vigorous, more excited, as he watches your face contort in different phases of pain and pleasure, “You feel incredible.”
His words, the feral rasp in his voice, so animalistically raw and primal, makes your entire body clench with excitement. And Sylus can feel all of it, every quiver, every twitch.
“You’re so damn tight,” he bites out, rutting up into you, “Trying to break me?”
“You’re–ngh–s’dramatic,” you tease, weaving your fingers through his hair and stroking his horns.
Sylus’s tail grips you, his body tensing as you gently provoke the sensitive ebony spurs. You can swear his rhythm falters, but he composes himself instantly. The rough scales lining his muscular tail sink into your skin, leaving beautiful little crescents behind.
“Am I now?” Sylus smirks, his tone warning you that you’ve used up all his mercy. Your cries amplify as Sylus’s intensity picks up, his pelvis slamming into your cheeks. You’re so caught up in the borderline violent thrusts that you don’t notice when Sylus’s head dips down, his lips latching onto your breast.
“Oh Gods,” your voice is hoarse and broken with desire, nearly drowned out by the wet slaps of his body pounding into yours. On the other hand, Sylus’s mouth is deceptively tender, suckling so gently, teeth grazing so intentionally. His coarse fingers pinch the nipple that he can’t attend to with his tongue, all the while still driving himself deep into your gut.
His free hand comes down between your bodies, the slick that had smeared there coating his fingers as he finds your clit, sending your eyes into the back of your head. The valley echoes with a broken record of your combined cries of pleasure and the lewd sound of wet skin colliding.
“Does every inch of you taste this damn exquisite?” Sylus demands breathlessly when he pulls away from your breasts. The way you felt wrapped around him was making it difficult to control his instincts, needing to remind himself that he needed to be careful with you.
“Hah…only t’you–! Only for you,” you can barely register the words coming out as your ears pound, your vision starting to blur as the same tension you’d felt twice earlier starts to build in again.
A possessive growl erupts from Sylus’s chest, unable to contain his instincts. But the corners of his lips quirk, a pleased smile gracing his features.
“Only for me, hm?” he licks a stripe from your neck to the mark on your shoulder making your entire body shudder.
Sylus’s talons dig into your thighs, now using both the strength of his thighs and arms to fuck you relentlessly onto him. Your back arches backward at the sheer force of his body and you use your palms to catch yourself on the ground behind you. Sylus’s tail steadies you, but at this angle he reaches a new depth inside of you, his impossibly thick cockhead roughly caressing a sensitive spot inside you that has you seeing stars.
“O-Oh Gods, oh Go-ods! Sylus–!” you chant like a broken prayer, your lower half rolling into Sylus’s lap impulsively, like it was the most natural thing in the world. You use your hands that are planted on the ground behind you to give you leverage, just letting your body do whatever feels right, feels natural.
With every roll of your hips, your clit brushes against the silvery mat of wet hair painting Sylus’s pelvis, making your eyes gloss over with a fucked out bliss that has Sylus nearly coming undone himself.
His eyebrows furrow, red eyes swirling with shadows as he watches you atop his cock, his mate. The distinct outline of him strains against your delicate skin every time he thrusts into you, bulging against your naval.
Did you have any idea how insane you were driving him right now?
He hooks his hand behind your waist, just one palm enough to cup the small of your back and pull you back to him. He pulls you flush to his body, your bare chest pressed against his, your hearts pounding against one another.
“I’m a selfish man, Y/N,” he rasps into your ear, fighting to not explode into your gummy walls.
“S’okay,” you cup his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his in a chaste kiss, “I love that about you. I love you.”
Sylus’s tail tenses, still wrapped possessively around you, your proclamation making him snap. Before you know what’s happening, you find yourself being thrown back onto the grassy floor, Sylus’s hands cupping the back of your head as he sets you on the ground. Somehow, he still finds a way to keep himself snug inside you, unwilling to pull away for even a split second.
“Sylus!” you cry out, half in surprise, half in excitement, as his heavy body presses down onto you, his lips less than an inch from yours, cock nearly in your throat.
“Sweetheart,” he groans, voice coming out unusually…frenzied.
He truly was a selfish man, in every sense of the word.
“You can take another for me, right?”
“Another?” you squeak when he licks your cheek playfully, tenderly.
“I’m pretty sure I can…cum–” you flush at the word, still slightly reserved with your newfound sexuality, “–again.”
Sylus chuckles huskily, pressing a soft kiss into your lips, “That’s not what I meant.”
Though he keeps his voice level, he couldn’t keep his heart from hammering erratically in his chest. You felt so indescribably perfect wrapped around him, he couldn't even fathom that it could get better than this.
You were everything he imagined, and then some.
You groan when he shifts to his knees, repositioning himself. Sylus moves his hand to grab the base of his length, and you’re about to protest, not wanting him to pull himself out of you.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, you feel the odd sensation of something else poking at where he had already had you completely full with his ridiculously thick cock. Something that was grinding against your clit, like he would with his thumb, toying with you as if also trying to get inside you. Something equally, if not more, massive than what was already nestled inside of you.
There was no way he thought he could possibly fit more inside you.
With your eyes wide, you shakily, address the silver haired man hovering above you, “H-How did I not see that you have t-two?!”
Sylus throws his head back with a breathless laugh, his entire body shaking. He strokes your cheek with the tip of his ebony claws, staring wryly at you with his sparkling crimson eyes.
“The same way I can hide my wings.”
He strokes the leaking tip of his second cock along your clit, making you shiver. You can’t deny how good it feels, and how exhilarating the thought of it is. The way he looks at you, desperate, feral, and with all the intensity a hunter would stare at its prey.
It makes it impossible for you to think coherently, the lust overpowering all sensibility.
“You can take it,” he coos encouragingly, using his second tip to smear your combined slick around your taut opening, as if preparing you to take him.
“You could–ngh– barely get one in, what makes you think I’ll be able to take two–!?” you writhe, forcing the words out as Sylus continues to slowly rock into you.
Your squirming only makes you tighten further on Sylus, working him up further. His second cock had hardened to the point of pain, no matter how firmly he stroked it. It needed you, and nothing else could satisfy him.
The desire on Sylus’s face, on his body, is palpable. You can see the beads of sweat gliding down his sculpted face as he restrains himself, his chest heaving as he tries to lock his instincts away, a dark storm of frustration in his eyes.
“Oo-kay, I’ll try,” you murmur, hoping to the Gods you’ll live to see another day. Sylus’s carmine eyes light up, a proud grin donning his devilishly handsome features.
“Good girl.”
He forcefully pounds against you, still only letting his second cock grind against your clit. Every thrust causes it to glide against you, rubbing against the sensitive bud, like he was fucking the lips of your cunt with it.
Your fingers claw at the ground as the anticipation boils, waiting for him to just put it in.
“Sy–ngah–just do it alr–”
He presses his thumb into your lips, interrupting the beginnings of your frantic rambles.
“Breathe out.”
Just as Sylus’s hips are about to snap against your cheeks again, you feel him finally push himself into you.
Your eyes go wide, mouth agape, as he stretches you until you fear you may actually pass out. You’re so wet that it doesn’t take much to coax it through the initial stretch. But it still hurts, far worse than when he’d initially penetrated you.
However there is also far more pleasure than before. The two sensations tug at one another, making your mind reel with tumultuous chaos. A tormenting mixture of ecstasy and torment, threatening to shatter your mind.
“S-Sylus, I-I can’t, s’not gonna fit,” you whimper when the stretch becomes too much. Peering down, you see that you’d taken the entire head of his second cock, and you don’t think you can take any more.
Sylus groans, his eyes squeezed shut, a storm brewing within him. The feeling of your perfect cunt wrapped around both of his cocks was unlike anything he could have ever imagined, and he was at war with the feral part of himself that was threatening to break free and take you like he was in rut.
“It will fit, my love,” he soothes tenderly, his fingers rubbing soft circles into your hips.
He bends down, taking your chin in his fingers to pull you in for a kiss. But before your lips meet, he whispers heatedly, eyes overcast with a swirl of inexplicable emotions.
“You were made for me, Y/N. Of course it’ll fit.”
His eyes flicker to your lips, before coming back to your eyes, silently asking for your okay before proceeding. As much as he wanted this, more than anything he wanted you to want it too.
Your heart swells, core fluttering at his words. Sylus hisses when he feels your walls clenching against him, inadvertently sinking further into you.
Gasping, you pull him the rest of the way towards you, circling your arms around his neck, and pushing your lips onto his. You take that moment to arch into him, letting him push deeper into you, biting down on his lip as he sinks further to the hilt.
Sylus kisses you so fiercely that you don’t even notice that he’s fully inside you, both cockheads pressed as deep as they will possibly go. Just as he claims every inch of you with his tongue, his arousal coats every part of you, marking you from the inside.
He pulls away with a snarl, his entire chest shuddering, a visible sheen of sweat glistening on his muscled body, “Sweetheart, I need to move.”
You nod, eyelashes fluttering as you fight to keep your eyes open, “Mmngh–you can move, Sy. I-I want you to.”
Sylus’s eyes darken, his palm slamming down on the ground beside your head. He’s completely hovering over you now, his lower body pressed so deliciously into you. Like he owned you.
Laid out against the tapestry of blooming datura, you made his heart stutter, his right eye twinging with inexplicable desire. You were more magnificent than any work of art. After 1,600 years walking these lands, Sylus finally knew what beauty was.
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, slowly pulling out of you before rolling his hips back into you. He’s so deep, stretching you so full, body so heavy on top of yours. You can’t feel anything but him, and it makes you want to come undone all over him again. That sensation in your gut, that you had become all too familiar with, had already built to a near bursting breaking point.
“Soo deep–angh–s’fuuull,” you slur, graspingf his horns again, stroking them affectionately, letting the rough ebony edges ground you.
“Fuck,” Sylus curses sharply as you grope his sensitive horns, barely able to contain his own moans. His knees nearly buckle, using only his arms to keep him propped up over you. Squeezing his eyes shut, he takes a deep breath, forcing himself to regain his composure.
His hips roll into you like the tides of the ocean, his pace smooth and rhythmic. There’s a filthy wet ‘smack!’ every time his pelvis hammers into you, the ecstasy your bodies create together makes you leak uncontrollably, even so tightly plugged up by both his lengths.
“Feel me right here, love?” he grounds out, using one hand to press down firmly on the soft plush of your stomach. You squeal when you feel him pushing down on you, forcing your sensitive spots to clamp down on him. With two of his cocks inside you, there’s absolutely no space for that, the pleasure it brings you sharp and overwhelming.
“Yes-yes—! Please!” you plead, hoping he’ll have mercy on you. He’s driving you closer and closer to another orgasm, and you don’t know if you’ll survive this one.
Sylus can feel it too, the way your saccharine walls begin to squeeze him so sweetly, your beautiful starry eyes hazing over—too fucked out to focus, your clit hardened to a pebble against the slicked mat of silvery hair dusting his pelvis.
With you like this under him, mercy is not something he’s interested in.
In fact, Sylus had never felt like more of a beast than he did now. And the only thing he had an appetite for was you. The only thing that could sate his hunger was feeling you come undone so exquisitely for him again.
He plants one foot on the ground to give him more leverage, letting him thrust down into you more powerfully. Your thighs were spread so widely to accommodate him, your feet swinging wildly as he rolled his pelvis so deliciously into you, his entire body cascading like tidal waves.
“S-Sylus–ngah!” your relentless moans for him would be embarrassing if you weren’t so deep in the hole of lust, “Soo full–ngh–feel s’full–!”
“I know, love,” he purrs, “You’re so beautiful, with me inside you.” He softly strokes the bulge in your tummy, sending shivers down your arched spine, the sensation so otherworldly.
He delicately, but firmly, grabs the back of your neck, his fingers long enough to enclose over your entire throat. Gently, he pulls you forward, forcing you to look down at where he’s palming your stomach.
“Taking me so damn well,” he growls, his fingers threading into your hair now, gripping with just enough tension to make you tremble with excitement. Your forehead knocks against his, his damp bangs fluttering against your eyes. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails clawing into the thick ropes of muscles there.
“Mngh–Syluus, I can’t take much more. M’close again–!”
His hand forces you to watch where he was literally rearranging your insides and has you teetering off the cliff of climax, hanging on for dear life. Sylus’s pace only quickens, his hips pounding into you with reckless abandon now, unable to stop himself, any previous gentleness long gone.
As a Fiend who’d spent his entire life plundering the world of its treasures and riches, he’d come to know insatiable greed. Dragons inherently took and took, feeding off the gluttony of the human soul, unable to quench their own need to acquire.
He’d spent a millennium acquiring the most exquisite jewels, extravagant weapons, rarest heirlooms–what he wanted, he took. And yet, every waking day was the hollow echo of a broken harmonium.
But now, with your angelic little cunt wrapped so perfectly around both his cocks. Your nightingale voice that so often innocently serenaded him, moaning his name like a prayer, greedily begging for more. Your fluttering, doe eyes, glimmering back at him with an entire universe of emotions–desire, anticipation, greed, love.
Sylus realized he’d never known true desire. Not until he’d met you. Nothing he’d ever experienced compared to what it felt like now, to want you–to need you.
And he’d desire nothing, now and forevermore, if he had you.
Sylus’s fiery breath fans across your lips, his hand holding the back of your head demandingly, voice raspy with an unyielding desire, “I can feel it, sweetheart.”
“Don’t make me beg, hm?”
His heat fueled words, all but a demand, make you shake to your core. Your body’s perfect reactions to him only make Sylus more vigorous with need, growing impossibly harder inside you. One leaking tip brushes relentlessly against your g-spot, the other bullying into your cervix, damn near trying to find its way into your chest.
“Sy-Sy–ngh–m’cumming–! Please–!” your neck is hinged back in an ear splitting cry, your hips arched so deeply into Sylus that your spine feels like it might snap.
“Sh-shit–just like that,” Sylus grits, groaning as your cunt tries to wring him dry, “Just like that, sweet girl. Cum for me.”
Your body convulses, goosebumps littering your skin, as Sylus continues to fuck you through your orgasm, your vision blurring and tears seeping out from the corners of your eyes.You don’t know if it’s because you’ve cum three times already, or because he has you absolutely speared on both his massive erections, or maybe because he looks down at you with all the adoration you think one could hold for even the stars. But this orgasm is far more explosive than the previous ones, and it makes you scream into the night.
You release fiercely against Sylus’s body, the wet gush of release simultaneously erotic and strange. The muscles of your thighs trembled viciously. Your cries of complete and utter pleasure are strangled, your voice nearly gone now. Sylus is cooing sweetly into your ear, but you can't hear him through the blood pounding in your head, your eyes having a hard time staying focussed.
You don’t even notice when Sylus shifts, now on his knees, his fingers grasping the plush of your hips. Your back now rests against the matted meadow floor, your vision filled with the sky that was slowly filling with stars.
But your sight is incredibly shaky, Sylus’s grip on your hips bruising as he pulls your body into his relentlessly, still chasing his own release.
Your senses slowly start to come back to you, the feeling of his cocks still rutting deeply into you sobering you up. The feeling was strange; it was by no means painful, but it was sharp and made you wince.
“Ungh, Sy–s-sensitive,” you whisper, your throat scratchy. Though his thrusts are rough, possessive, he’s somehow still careful with your body, making sure you’re not a complete ragdoll against his demanding pull. You crane your neck slightly and see that, during your momentary orgasmic state of incohesion, Sylus had placed his pants under your head, and what was left of your clothing under your naked back.
The simple gesture makes your heart skip with inexplicable happiness as you gaze up at him, admittedly growing aroused again, watching him.
His sweat matted silver bangs had been tousled back, as if he had run his fingers through them. Thick eyebrows, arched downward, darkening his already smoldering irises, watching you like you were the reason the sun rose every day. His entire body was layered in a thin sheen of sweat that made him appear as if he was chiseled from marble, like the sculptures you’d see in the Ivory City.
“You know, dragons like to mate in the sky,” Sylus groans, a near ramble, delirious with desire, clearly near his own release. His tail flickers wildly behind him, and you use your calf to rub against it. He tenses with a strangled moan, snapping his hips particularly harshly into you. Your eyes roll back as he bruises against your cervix, your sensitivity at an all time high.
“Sylus!”
“One day, hm? Right now, there’s nothing I want more than to see you spread out amongst these flowers.”
Another series of desperate ruts that have you writhing at the intensity.
“We have all the time in the world.”
His honeyed vows have you keening, your body reacting viscerally. Sylus reels when you clamp down on him, doubling over with a strangled groan.
“Not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that,” he pants into the crook of your neck, chest heaving. You loosely wrap your weak arms around his neck, nipping at his earlobe, enjoying the way he flinches.
“Please,” you beg, knowing how much he loves your greed, “I want you to, Sylus.”
A rumbling growl emits from Sylus’s chest, still pressed against yours. Your brain is far too exhausted to register how quickly he moves, maneuvering your thighs until they’re pressed against your breasts.
“Yeah?” Sylus snarls, his entire body caging you in, thighs closed over yours. You swear you can hear your muscles groan in protest, not meant to be this flexible. He’s practically sitting on you, except he keeps most of his weight off of you. From this angle he reaches the deepest he’s been able to, locking you in a mating press that he’s determined to breed you full in.
“You want me to cum in you, sweetheart?” he rasps, completely feral–too far gone. He’s ramming down into you now, using the strength of his thighs and gravity to knock the air out of your lungs, cocks reaching deep down your throat.
“Too-nghn–too deep!” You don’t know how it’s possible but you feel the coil in your core building again, and you’re certain you won’t survive it this time. It’s too fast, too sensitive, too taut.
Sylus groans, the sound of his pleasure making your mind spin. His rhythm stutters, and you swear you can feel him pulsing inside you, literal vibrations rocking your core. You’d like to think he was as close as you were, again.
“Needs t’be deep, love. If you’re going to give me an heir, hm?”
Your eyes widen at his words, heart skipping a beat. Sylus falters again, feeling you tighten at his words, before smirking crookedly at you.
“So damn tight. Does my sweet girl like that idea?” he croons, almost condescendingly, but threateningly serious.
Your vision is blurred with euphoric tears, but you can clearly see Sylus’s enchanting eyes looking down at you as they had many times before. They were always intense, the carmine hues able to peer right into your soul. But the heat in them now, as he watched you writhing in ecstasy under him, would put a wildfire to shame.
You look up at him through your dewy eyelashes, grasping his shoulders, and nod wordlessly, unbelievably aroused by his lewd words of passion.
Storm clouds swirled in his scarlet eyes and he leaned down impossibly closer to you, pressing your bodies tighter together, forcing himself deeper.
“You’re going to take my knot like a good little mate, hm?”
You weren’t entirely sure what that was, but the way Sylus said it just dripped with a possessive sensuality that made you want to submit to his every will. Your stomach flutters at the thought of it, and so you nod eagerly.
“Ungh–anything, Sy–! Anything for you.”
Sylus snarls, nearly baring his teeth, unable to contain the sheer primal joy he felt from your sinful words. He was already having a hard time keeping his instincts at bay with how you felt wrapped around him, underneath him, but now you were on the verge of making him snap entirely.
Did you have any idea what you were doing to him?
“The world needs more dragons, don’t you think?” he snarls, his hand pressing down roughly on your stomach where his two cocks threaten to erupt inside you. The implications of his hand cupping your stomach send you over the edge once more.
Gods, you’d be so beautiful carrying his brood.
“C-Cumming Sylus!” you whine, voice pathetically broken, body spent beyond belief. Your nails drag through his shoulders, piercing his skin and spilling blood, as every nerve in your body lights ablaze under his touch.
Sylus sinks his teeth into the sensitive spot on your shoulder, needing to claim you as he pushed himself to the edge. Your cunt convulses viciously against him as you cum, the feeling of your perfect heat milking both his cocks pushing him to cum with you.
“F-Fuck, Y/N–!”
Sylus explodes in you with a strangled groan of your name, his release thick, plenty, and scalding. It sends a claiming heat from your core all the way to your fingertips, making you shiver as you shudder with the waves of your climax, crying repeatedly for him.
You feel like you might burst, your stomach swollen with not only his cocks nestled in you but the sheer amount of cum he was still spurting in you. If you weren’t so blissfully fucked out, it might’ve been a bizarre sight, your tummy bulging with the weight of his unending seed painting your walls cream.
“Mine,” he groans into your neck, sinking himself back into your mark, still rocking into you, still spurting white into you. There’s far too much, leaking out of where he was still connected to you, rutting into you.
It quickly becomes too much; you’re not sure if you’d become too raw or if you’d simply had enough, but a strange pressure begins to build. And soon that pressure becomes a stinging, painful stretch.
“Sy-lus,” you whisper, tapping at his chest frantically, “W-Wait please. Something hurts.”
Sylus affectionately licks at the mark he’d branded you with, releasing your legs from the mating press he’d held you in. You whimper in relief when the tension in your hips finally releases. Sylus gently wraps your legs around his waist, but the growing pain between your thighs doesn’t subside.
“It’s my knot, love,” he growls, his voice gruff and gravely. His entire body trembles at the sensation of his knot swelling–filling you, the idea of his seed being stuffed deep inside you making it difficult for him to calm his raging instincts.
His hand palms where your thighs meet the plush of your rear, kneading into your ass and gripping you closer to him. You instinctually squirm away, the stretch becoming unbearable. But you quickly realize that you physically can’t. You’re literally locked onto him.
Sylus hisses, holding you in place, desperately trying to get you to stop moving.
“Please, sweetheart.”
From the sweat dripping down his brow, his jaw clenched so sharply it could cut stone, you realized his knot must’ve been incredibly sensitive. If you weren’t the one getting stretched out onto it, you might’ve even teased him.
“Just so big, t-too much,” you squeak as he swells further inside of you, not sure how much more you could take. You look down at where his abdomen is pressed into you, the area a pearly mess of your coalesced spend.
You could vaguely see that Sylus had in fact slipped one of his erections out of you, occluded by the sight of the other still engorged and locked inside you. You briefly wonder if the other one is also swelling with a knot. Had he pulled it out for your sake?
“How–nghah–how much more?” you pant, trying your best not to clench down.
“Almost. You’re taking me so well, Y/N,” Sylus murmurs, deceptively sweet, when all he wanted to do was ram his second knot into you. The battle between his innate draconic instincts, wanting to claim you full force like a beast, and the dual need to protect and cherish you, the last bit of his soul that was untainted.
You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, burying your face into his neck. His scent invades your senses, and you can’t help but moan, lips latching onto his racing pulse. Sylus groans, fingers grasping the back of your head and pressing you deeper into his chest. His tail wraps around your waist again, needing to be closer to you, deeper in you.
“Look at you,” he groans breathily into your ear, the swelling finally seeming to finish, “Taking my entire knot, hm?”
With his entire knot wrapped in your perfect heavenly cunt, Sylus can’t help but start rocking into you again. He’d cum so thickly inside you that his knot actually begins to thrust ever so slightly, the friction sending his eyes reeling backward.
Your eyes blow open, wincing at the feeling of prickling overstimulation. But when you see him, you find yourself not wanting to tell him to stop.
Sylus’s pearly white canines have dug into his kiss bitten lips, a rosy blush dusting his sharp cheeks. The emerging moonlight makes his argent hair even more ethereal, mussed back in an adorably messy way. His breath is heavy–desperate, face contorted in pure euphoria as he slowly thrusts into you again.
When you look up at him, you catch him watching you, his eyes overcast by the furrow of his thick eyebrows.
Reflected in the sea of searing vermillion, the adoration and worship burning brighter than the moon that illuminates a halo behind him, you see your soul reflected back at you. A soul that had been burned black, a puppet without a heart, consumed by revenge and contempt.
Until a fiendish dragon had plucked her out of the Abyss, and breathed fire back into that very hollow vessel of hatred, illuminating her spirit golden with greed.
That very greed not only saved your life, but showed you what it meant to be alive.
You let him slowly fuck his knot into you, whimpering as he stretched you to the point of breaking. Oddly enough, you didn’t hate the feeling, even though it stung. In fact, your body seemed to crave it, crave his body claiming yours.
“You feel so fucking incredible,” Sylus growls, his movements growing more and more insistent with every passing moment. From his gravelly voice you can tell he’s quickly losing control. Your eyes flutter upward, becoming overwhelmed, your poor body unable to take any more.
“Syluus, no more,” you grip his forearm, voice weak. Sylus stills when he hears the genuine pain in your voice. His lips are instantly at your temple, pressing kisses into your damp skin.
“Apologies, my love. I got carried away.”
Sylus shifts, cradling you so that you’re now on top of him, his strong arms holding you protectively. His knot, still swollen, rests tightly inside you, plugging you full of his thick seed. You listen to the thrum of his heartbeat, the two of you laying there in a serene silence that nearly lulls you into sleep.
“You are my fate,” he murmurs imperceptibly, pressing a soft kiss into the claim on your shoulder. His tail has found itself wrapped around your body again, the thick and cold scales digging pleasantly into your burning skin.
“Hm?” you mumble, sleep creeping in on your consciousness like a thick misty fog.
Sylus’s chest rumbles with a deep chuckle, his fingers carding through your hair. He can feel his knot slowly beginning to subside, though his body still rides high from the passion.
“Nothing. Sleep, my little dragon.”
–
“Sing for me.”
Sylus’s wings are cocooned protectively around your naked body, seeing as he had absolutely shredded your clothes earlier. The two of you sat against the trunk of a large willow, with Sylus’s back pressed against it, and your back pressed against his chest, his thighs caged around yours. His tail rests on the ground, coiled around your feet, flickering every so often.
You’d awakened to a moonlit tapestry of stars and had stayed to admire them in the serenity of the valley, instead of heading back to the chapel.
You crane your neck to look back at him, “What, no please?”
Sylus arches an eyebrow at you, “Were you always this cheeky?”
You can’t help but let out an amused snort, “Were you always this demanding?”
Sylus grimaces, bordering dangerously close to a pout, “Will you sing for me?”
“My throat is sore,” you whine. It was wholeheartedly the truth; your voice was raw from your prior vigorous…activities. But the adorable sulk on his face has your resolve slipping away.
“Just a little,” he murmurs, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly. You don’t even think he realizes he’s pouting.
You turn your eyes back to the night sky with a giggle. He always demanded you to sing for him, especially when you’d watch the moon together. It was almost a ritual for the two of you. And you rarely denied him.
♪ “This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow,” ♫
Sylus’s wings tense around you as you start singing, his chin resting on the top of your head. The gentle lilt of your voice sent a shiver down his spine, as he tried to recognize the lyrics. But he realized you hadn’t ever sung this one for him before.
♫ “If it weren't for you, I'd be here all alone,” ♪
You keep your voice low and steady as you sing the melody, staring up at the moon in the cloudless sky. It shines even brighter than it had that night in the chapel.
♪ “I know in my heart this is where we belong.” ♫
The next lines get caught in your throat when a droplet of water splashes on the crown of your head.
Odd. There hadn’t been any clouds in the sky.
You tilt your head all the way back, trying to get a better look at the sky, “It’s starting to rain.”
Sylus’s upside down face blocks your view, looming over you. He gently grasps your chin and brings your lips up to his, capturing you in a slow and tender kiss.
A few more raindrops fall onto your cheek, making you shiver. The valley rain is strangely warm.
When he releases your lips, Sylus wraps his arm around your chest, holding you to him. His heart pounds so heavily you can feel it thrumming against your naked back.
“Oh! I think the rain stopped Sylus!” you gasp, holding out your palms and extending your arms beyond the shade of the willow to try and catch some falling rainfall.
Sylus’s chest vibrates with laughter. He presses his lips into your hair, taking a deep inhale of your scent. Your pheromones nearly have him throwing you under him again, blood rushing south.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your head, shifting so his erections aren’t pressing into your spine.
Turning to look at him, you giggle in surprise. The silver-haired dragon was not typically a man of many ‘thank yous.’
“For what? Singing?
Sylus doesn’t answer immediately, staring up at the silky glow of the full moon. His normally shadowed irises glisten unusually bright under the radiance of the stars.
He’d always wanted someone to watch the moon with.
Sylus looks at you. The corners of his lips are curved in a barely-there smile, but his crimson eyes behold you such devotion that your breath catches. Deep inside the recesses of your consciousness, you can feel your soul tremble, as if being caressed by the claws of another.
“Yeah. For singing.”
–
A drop of water splashes against your cheek, shaking you out of your reverie.
You frantically wipe the tears from your cheeks away with your fingers, but the water only continues to fall.
Looking up, you realize the sunset had faded into night. In your reminiscing, clouds had overtaken the sky, crystalline raindrops starting to cascade from the heavens.
It’s…raining.
It hadn’t rained for decades in Tarus City, not since that day atop the Highest Court of Justitia.
Not until now.
♪ This world is a wasteland. ♫
You reach your hand out to catch some of the falling water in your palm, enjoying the sensation of the droplets splashing against your tepid skin.
A fleck of ebony ash drifts into your palm, the lingering orange ember fading away like a melting sunset when it meets your wet skin, tragically beautiful.
Like a body fading into crystals of midnight, getting swept up into the clouds.
♫ Don't let me go, go, go, go, go, go, go. ♪
The raindrops mix with your tears. You’re not sure how much time passes with you standing there in the rain, a mess of silent sobs. Seconds, minutes, hours, you’re not sure how long. Time seems to lose meaning as you stand there, your emotions coming out in an endless stream of tears. Eventually your eyes dry, your body dehydrated with nothing left to shed.
But the rain doesn’t show any signs of relenting.
When your bloodshot vision focusses just enough for you to regain your sight, you watch as the rainwater seems to melt away the thick layers of soot that had caked the meadow floor for decades.
The rain was pouring down like silver threads now, gathering into the streams in the depths of the meadow. The way the water trickled down the spine of the empty riverbanks almost made it seem like the valley was alive again.
You look up at the sky. Darkness had come quick, especially with the amount of rain clouds that had surfaced. There weren’t many stars visible, the twinkling lights hidden by the smog and the clouds.
But as you watch the billowing storm clouds, the wind picks up, parting the column of clouds into two, allowing the glow of the moon to illuminate through.
Your breath catches as you behold the sight of the moon. It was a full moon tonight, a halo of argent brilliance.
The same moon you’d watched together here, on that night.
You couldn't recall the last time you'd allowed yourself to gaze at the moon like this. It felt wrong–to watch the night sky without Sylus. Or maybe you were just too much of a coward.
Wherever he was, was there a moon for him to gaze up at too?
Standing here in the valley, under the bask of the moonlight, you feel closer to him than you had in a long time. There’s so much you wanted to say to him, to apologize for–to explain. But you struggle to find the words, your voice caught in your throat, drowning in unrelenting rain and inexplicable emotions.
Your heart drops when the light wanes, the moon getting swallowed up by the unending storm clouds, the moment passing as quickly as it had come.
Some words are like the moonlight hidden by the clouds. Once the moment passes, there’s no need to say them anymore.
The rainfall drizzles to a stop, leaving you a soaked and shivering mess in the creeping darkness. Though the rain has stopped, the clouds remain. They blanket the entire sky, reaching towards the valley. They trickle over the tops of the scarlet mountains, spilling down like a waterfall.
You’re about to turn to leave when another falling fleck of ash flits in front of your face, tickling your eyelashes.
You catch it in your open hand, waiting for it to dissolve into the dewiness of your palm. But it just lays there, whole and unyielding. Picking it up, you examine it carefully, before tentatively twirling it around between your fingertips.
What you thought was a fleck of ash wasn’t actually, but a midnight datura petal.
Your eyes widen in shock, cradling the fragmented bloom in your palm as if it were a newborn hatchling. Whirling around, you search for any possible signs that there could be flowering daturas in the valley. But the ground is covered in nothing but melting ash, as far as your eye can see. Surely nothing could have survived here.
But the flesh feels healthy and supple as you pinch it gently between your fingertips, as if it’d just been freshly plucked.
Wrapping your arms around your soaked and shivering body, the petal tucked in between your fingers, you look out one last time into the vast expanse of ashen scarlet hills.
Somewhere out there, there is a blooming datura. If even just one.
“Tarus City will bloom once more–as far as the eye can see.”
You let the wind carry your voice off, louder and stronger than you’d intended. The meadow listens, your words echoing into the heart of the valley.
“But only for you, Sylus.”
You bring the datura petal to your lips, pressing it tenderly there. For a second, you contemplate holding onto it. Taking it with you.
But perhaps that’d been your mistake all these years.
Holding on when you should’ve been letting go.
You unclasp your fingers, and the wind lifts the petal from your hands. As it flutters past your shoulders, there’s an inexplicable warmth that emanates from Sylus’s mark–the faint traces of the bittersweet scent of cindered blossoms tickling your nostrils.
It drifts higher, towards the call of the wild–the mountain ranges beckoning it toward them. Higher until you can barely make it out from the expanse of the twilight sky.
.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.
✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.
Summary - In the first two weeks of being new parents, the dynamic hasn’t been quite what you and Sylus expected. He’s eager to be involved, but your daughter doesn’t seem to have warmed to him.
Word count - 2.7k
⚠️Warning⚠️ - Mentions of pregnancy and childbirth. Hurt/comfort, fluff, and a little sprinkle of angst.
Your newborn didn’t like Sylus.
It sounded ridiculous, but you know he was thinking it too. You didn’t have the gall to say it out loud—not that it even needed to be said. The fact was definitely lingering between you both.
You never thought much of why she would wriggle and kick up a storm in your stomach whenever he touched the swell of your belly, but you now had an inclination that it was because she didn’t like his hands there.
It was strange and upsetting, but he didn’t seem too hurt by it so far, only silently helpless as he watched you do everything. You were two weeks postpartum, so your emotions were already all over the place. It seemed as though Sylus was holding his own feelings back to make room for yours, and when you had asked him about it, he simply kissed your forehead and reassured you that he was fine. All while your screaming daughter cried for you against his chest.
Not that he opened up to you all that often. You did manage to get things out of him with a push sometimes, but he was like an unyielding gate, refusing to open to anyone.
Your exhaustion was only adding to the toll on your fragile emotions. The baby only wanted your touch, and sleep was almost impossible for you because of that very reason. Only you could feed her. Only you could soothe her. Only you could touch her.
That was one thing that was really getting to Sylus. The bloodshot whites of your eyes as you rocked the fussy newborn to sleep and fed her at all hours of the morning. The barely touched plates of food that ended up stone cold and in the bin. Not to mention the completely non-existent ten minutes you needed to at least have a wash without having to run out of the shower to her aid.
He must have felt quite useless in the weeks where you should be recovering, but he didn’t want you to worry about his feelings by indulging you in his thoughts.
Your pregnancy had been smooth, ending with a good twenty-seven hours of rather torturous labour, and pushing that went on for an agonising two hours. It had all been worth it, though. Your little bundle of joy with tufts of platinum hair had finally greeted you both with a piercing wail, but eased her protests once placed against your heaving chest.
You just wished she would settle with both parents.
It was another day of desperate wailing, your arms becoming so heavy with the exertion of having no option but to hold her. You tried to put her in her pram for Sylus to push her around for a while, but her cries only increased to the point of her little face turning purple. You couldn’t sit and just listen to it, and you absolutely would not ignore her—no matter how much Sylus pushed for you to go and get some sleep.
“She wants me,” you say for what felt like the millionth time that week.
Sylus was evidently reluctant to stop trying, but he wouldn’t keep you from her. He conceded with a defeated huff, watching your every move as you gently lifted your screeching daughter out of the plush pram. Her screams died down quickly as you placed her against your chest, her ear-piercing wails whittling down to soft whimpers.
“Of all the dangerous paths I’ve crossed and violent challenges I’ve encountered, it’s our newborn daughter who finally defeats me,” he mumbles quietly, trying to make a lighthearted joke about it.
You tried to smile at his attempt to add a bit of humour to the situation, but the comment only made you cry. Hard.
“Hey.” He immediately stepped toward you, rubbing a large hand up and down your back soothingly. You had to give it to him, his patience with you in the last two weeks had been immaculate. “Don’t cry, sweetie.”
You couldn’t stop, your ragged breaths and shaking shoulders refusing to relent. “I d-don’t get it,” you bawl. “What are we doing d-differently?”
Sylus sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His hand continued to rub soothing circles against your back to ease your upset. “Well, she did live inside you for nine months. Besides, you didn’t exactly like me either when we first met.”
He smiled faintly, tilting his head down to capture your gaze. Despite the obvious tease, he still seemed to be holding himself back. It was frustrating him more than he wanted to admit to you. You knew he was protecting your feelings, but you wished he would just show some sense of vulnerability.
You don’t dare set your sleeping daughter down in her moses basket, knowing full well that she would just wake straight back up. So the rest of the afternoon is spent with your tiny newborn curled up against your chest, a few feeding and changing breaks in between.
Once the day turned into night, nothing in the world sounded more appealing to you than a hot shower, a hot meal, and a hot cup of tea. But letting her scream and cry while you did that was not an option. It wasn’t fair on her, and it wasn’t fair on Sylus.
He didn’t leave you unless he absolutely had to throughout the day. You watched him every time he heard a little whimper from the baby, his hands flexing and twitching. Every time you had to get up to do something for her, he was either at your back or side.
He wanted to help.
The chef brought through a very large bowl of marinated chicken and pasta for you, upon Sylus’s instruction. As soon as the bowl was set on the little table beside your recliner chair, you almost began drooling. You hadn’t managed to eat much at all in the chaos, and Sylus wasn’t amused when you didn’t even get the chance to finish the two biscuits he’d brought you earlier in the day.
You reached a careful hand over to the fork, not even lifting it before your daughter began to wriggle and whine in your other arm. Dropping it immediately, you retract your hand, only making it halfway back to the fussy newborn before long, slender fingers wrapped themselves around your wrist.
“No,” Sylus says firmly. “Absolutely not.”
Your initial response is to immediately go on the defence. “She’s cry—”
“I know she’s crying,” he interrupted tightly. “I know. But you’re going to eat while your food is hot, and you’re going to do it without our screaming daughter on your chest.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
He had that commanding look in his eye, the one that would intimidate most, but was only used on you when he was especially adamant on you doing something necessary for yourself.
You were a little relieved to see him so passionate, if you were being honest. He had been treading on eggshells to not upset you or the baby for fourteen whole days, and it wasn’t good for anyone. You felt the tension on him every time you both managed to get into bed together for more than five minutes. He needed this little outburst.
“This needs to stop now. I’m going to figure her out, and you are going to eat. Alright?” His tone left no room for argument, and the more your daughter protested against your intention to eat, the more hungry and tired you felt.
It wasn’t easy, but you handed her off to him carefully, swallowing a lump in your throat. You couldn’t take your eyes off of her distressed little face as Sylus attempted to cradle her.
You were practically twitching, your legs about to push the footrest of the recliner down to retrieve her in the first thirty seconds she was away from you. Sylus noticed immediately, and pushed it back up with his foot before you could close it down fully.
“She’s not in any danger,” he said calmly, but his whole body was visibly tense. “She’s right here, I won’t leave the room. Just eat, sweetie.”
You wanted to protest further, but he wasn’t going to yield this time. His eyes remained trained on you until you finally sagged back into the chair, and it wasn’t until you picked up your fork that he finally turned away, focusing on the distraught newborn kicking up a storm against his chest.
He held her the way you did, one hand cupped over her head to keep it steady while the other hand softly patted her back. Why she didn’t want to be near him was an utter mystery to you, he wasn’t doing anything incorrectly.
You couldn’t eat while the two most important people in your life were quite clearly in a distressing situation before you. “Are you alright?” You asked him gently, hoping that he would answer you.
“I will be if you eat,” he quickly responded, not looking at you.
Sighing, you stab a slice of the chicken onto your fork, just looking at it for a moment. Your brain had managed to kick itself into gear as you forged a new approach to his silence.
This was an opportunity to head in the right direction.
“I’ll eat if you speak to me.”
Blood red eyes shot in your direction, an eyebrow raised. “Blackmail?”
You quickly shook your head. “You were right, this does need to stop. Starting with you shutting yourself off from me.”
“Eat.”
The forked piece of chicken points straight at his unamused face. “Talk.”
He shook his head a little in clear annoyance, the stress consuming him. Your daughter continued to wail, immune to the warmth and safety of his arms. He was basically trapped after promising to remain in the room with you.
Your bleary eyes held his irises of rubies, neither of you conceding. It was a mental challenge to ignore the fragrant aroma of garlic and fresh basil beneath your nose, but you were not eating until at least one of the two beautiful people before you had calmed down.
Sylus visibly swallowed, finally giving in as he noticed your lack of a bluff. “Do you think she knows?” His voice was quiet, barely heard over your newborn’s cries.
“Knows what?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again, nodding his head towards the piece of chicken on your fork. You shovel it into your gob, eager for him to continue.
His eyes flicker down to your daughter before he speaks again. “Do you think she knows that I’ve done terrible things? Do you think that’s why she doesn’t like me?”
“I—” you grumble and roll your eyes as he nods to your plate of food again, waiting for you to take another mouthful that you end up having to speak through, “I don’t see how she could. Is that why you’ve been so quiet?”
The corner of his mouth curled upward ever-so-slightly. “Missing my tongue, kitten?”
You couldn’t help your own smile as his shoulders sagged a little from where they were practically touching his ears. It wasn’t often that he opened up to you like this. You almost always had to pry or throw in a proposition to coax him into speaking.
You took another bite of your food, moving the plate from the small table to your lap. “Do you really think she doesn’t like you?”
His smirk faded away quickly, a gentle thumb brushing over your daughter's head. She continued to cry, but the volume had dropped a little. “Do you not think that?” He asked.
You didn’t know how to answer that question. To tell the truth, you did think that, but not for the same reason he was thinking.
“I think she may be a little attached at the moment. We’re very different shapes and sizes. Maybe she feels—”
“Unsafe?”
His tone had dropped an octave—something you didn’t think was possible considering the already bone-chilling vibrations of his voice. Never before had you witnessed him in a state of such vulnerability. He was insecure about this, and it was finally starting to show.
You went to stand up to be near him, but he immediately stepped forward to halt your movement.
“Eat.”
Not wanting to lose this free-speaking Sylus you had barely met before, you did as he said, twirling a fat mouthful of pasta onto your fork for extra brownie points.
You both remained in silence for a few moments, only your fork scraping against the bowl in your lap marrying with the sounds of your baby’s cries surrounding the small sitting room.
Sylus’s gaze didn’t leave the newborn cradled in his arms, a gentle sway in his hips as he tried to keep her moving. All you could do was study his composure, seeing it as it cracked.
After a moment, he looked back at you. “I don’t want to keep failing you.”
You coughed on the mouthful of the creamy pasta at his words, completely in awe of his confession.
Failing you? How did he get to that conclusion?
“You’ve done everything for her,” he continued, not allowing you to immediately reassure him. “I want to be able to do everything, too. For both of you.”
The all too familiar sting in your wet eyes built in intensity by the second, and you quickly found yourself sniffling.
Not only was he insecure about your daughter not feeling safe in his arms, but he felt that he’d failed you both in the past two weeks. It was heartbreaking for you to hear.
“Don’t cry—”
“You’re…fuck, Sylus. You’re not failing anyone,” you tuck your fork back into the pasta with a loud sniffle, ignoring his glare that silently demanded that you continue to eat. “How the hell did you come to that conclusion?”
He looked entirely reluctant to answer, his head dropping back down to stare at his tiny twin. You didn’t want him to stop speaking again, so you quietly picked your fork back up, hoping it would capture his attention.
The silence stretched between you as you made the effort to eat for his sake. Even your daughter's cries became a little weaker—like she was pitying him.
He didn’t look at you as he said, “I’m the bad guy. The boogie man. The kind of monster that parents threaten their kids with visits from in the middle of the night if they don’t brush their teeth before bed.”
“Not in our story, you’re not,” you quickly reassured him earnestly. “You’re the husband and father who keeps the monsters away from your family. That’s the only Sylus she will ever know. The real one.”
He still didn’t look up from the newborn, now almost completely silent in his arms, but you catch a subtle bob in his throat. You didn’t need him to respond to you. You knew you had said the right words to soothe that self-deprecating thought in his complicated mind. You could see it.
“Have I told you how perfect you were two weeks ago,” he asked, knowing full well that he’d told her every day since then.
Your mouth curled into a soft smile. Even after all these years together—after welcoming your first child into this scary, yet beautiful world—Sylus had no trouble giving you butterflies.
“I think you might’ve mentioned it,” you hummed softly.
And on that very note, the baby was fast asleep in his hold for the very first time in two whole weeks. His face didn’t reveal anything, but you knew he was relieved. All he wanted to do was make this easier for the both of you.
Finally, you had managed to figure out what the problem had been all this time.
“You were too tense,” you point out quietly, noticing how openly at ease he now was. “That’s what she didn’t like.”
He hummed in response, unable to tear his gaze away from the sleeping babe in his arms. You didn’t say anything further, letting him enjoy that special moment in peace while you proceeded to enjoy the rest of your meal.
Despite the challenges of becoming new parents, things were going to be alright from that point onwards.
A/N - Hello! I hope you enjoyed this oneshot, thank you so much for reading. Just to let you know, I do take requests ❤️
Imagining a Hades/Persephone type of situation but with Sylus and Reader. Whenever she leaves the N109 zone to go to Linkon the limited sunlight they get leaves and throws them into atmospheric catastrophe.
Reader: "Sylus, you can't deny your citizens sunlight just because I was gone for a weekend."
Sylus, watching the drought-plagued fields in the distance: "It was only 48 hours. They'll live."
— summary: sometimes, you don’t realize you’re drowning until it’s too late. he’s always there to throw you a life preserver when you need it.
— cw: depression, anxiety, self-deprecating thoughts, mild angst, comfort, mild language, sylus is a big ol’ softie
— notes: i felt heavy today. i needed to escape to my delusions to get through it. thanks for reading.
— now playing: chaconne - enhypen
You, but refusing to get out of bed because the world’s too heavy a burden to bear right now.
You try to encourage yourself to at least shower—you smell like depression and yesterday’s outside clothes. Sometimes, that’s enough to lift your spirits. The motivation of a warm spray unfurling the knots in your shoulders.
You try to force yourself to get up and eat—you like to eat. Your stomach’s screaming at you. You haven’t had shit since lunch yesterday, and it feels like something’s sinking its claws into your stomach and pulling down.
But that’s not enough to get you out of bed. It’s the safest place for you right now. It doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t doubt you, doesn’t admonish you for the one wrong thing you do against twenty other rights. And you’re bundled up like a little sulking burrito in your comforter, refusing to do more than turn over and pray for sleep to tug you under.
However, sleep’s lulling embrace never comes,
Your thoughts are too much to deal with. Everything is too much. Caving in. You know it’s best for you to be around people. To reach out, but you’ll feel even shittier for dumping your problems on your friends, no matter how much they tell you they’re more than happy to listen. No matter how much you try to solve everyone else’s problems for them.
Besides, you don’t want to look weak. You hate it when people worry about you. You’re a pillar of strength for most everyone in your life. How are you going to take care of everyone else when you can’t even get yourself together?
Your phone buzzes by your pillow for the umpteenth time. You squint against its brightness, the jarring blue light the only source of color in your dark room. You have no sense of time. Don’t have to look at your screen to know he’s calling you again.
You’ve been avoiding him like a sickness since you got off work yesterday—another person you don’t want to drag into your caldron of misery.
You shove your phone under your pillow after silencing it, cocooning yourself deeper into your blanket and the turmoil of your mind. You’ll be better tomorrow, you promise. You always snap back after a day or two. Then you’re back to being the bright and obnoxious source of optimism everyone knows and loves.
You’ll talk to him later. When you’re better and not a husk of yourself, and your stomach isn’t empty while your brain is too full.
Too bad he has no intention of waiting for you to get your shit together.
Your bedroom door creaks open.
You turn away from it, curling up into a little hissing ball as the artificial light of your hallway spills in. Your thick, shag rug swallows the sounds of weighted footsteps. They near the edge of your bed, and you shut your eyes tight, receding further into your comforter.
A tongue clicks in disdain, a heavy presence looming over you. Your stomach lurches when the familiar drag of his voice permeates through the comforter.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding.” There’s a note of humor buried deep beneath the chiding, the concern.
You stiffen in response. He takes your silence as his cue to carry on with making you feel even shittier.
“Is there a reason you’ve been more difficult to get a hold of than the President?”
You flinch as if physically struck. You hate when he talks to you like that. Like there’s a lecture churning in the clouds, rolling over the horizon.
You swallow, realizing how fucking dry your throat is. Your lips quiver, struggling to form around words, also cracked and crusted with small flecks of blood. When’s the last time you had water?
“Go away,” you meekly manage.
The room’s other occupant huffs something offended. “I came all this way to check on you, and this is how you repay me? Your ability to discard me when you no longer find me useful is…assuring.”
You release a weighted sigh. Shaky. You don’t intend to be mean. You just…don’t want him to see you like this. Especially not him.
You spend some time in thick silence, listening to your heart thrum. And it is then you realize it’s raining outside. He came all this way in the rain? Well, fuck.
Your mattress dips under his weight. A gentle hand falls onto your ankle, thumb smoothing over the jut of bone there through layers of goose feather. You hear him swallow. Picture him, a hulking mass of silver and intimidation, trying to approach you without exacerbating things.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” he asks, cautious like you’re a cornered animal he’s afraid to scare off.
Your stomach pulls. Again, you despise sympathy. Making people fret over you, especially when it’s him. You’ve spent most of your life fending for yourself. Putting on this fake mask of optimism. He’s got his own things to worry about without you adding one more hardship to his life.
You remain silent, and he presses. Spindly fingers crawl beneath the comforter, seeking out the smooth glide of your skin. Your calf. He rubs soothingly. Your instincts tell you to pull away, but the warmth of his palm is grounding—an anchor in the face of a tidal wave threatening to wash you away.
“Talk to me. Please. I haven’t heard from you all night. Not a word today. I tried to give you space. But I was worried.”
And there it is. The nail driven into the coffin.
It’s not intentional, but you sink deeper regardless, that gnarling feeling twisting up your gut. A warm film of tears washes over your eyes. You tamp it down, shove away the frustration. Your voice strains.
“I’m alright, Sy. Just tired.”
You feel him turn on the bed, his knee nudging your back. His hand slides to your hip where he kneads it between careful fingers.
“I don’t believe that.”
You scoff, the sound of it sticky. Of course, he doesn’t. You can’t fool him. He’s too smart for his own good. Sometimes knows you better than you know yourself.
Before you can think, he’s curling around you. Notches his pelvis up against your bottom, tangling your legs together, dragging you closer against the hard press of his body, into the circle of his arms. You owlishly blink as he slots his chin in the junction of your shoulder. Want to laugh because you’re a complicated mess of limbs and bedsheets.
You smell him even through the thick layers of your comforter. He smells like petrichor, spring, and stale cologne. The warmth he exudes is dizzying. Comforting, causing your lids to grow heavy.
He breathes deep behind you. Hums low in his throat, voice vibrating your back and playing up your spine like a xylophone. You contemplate wriggling out of his embrace. You don’t deserve his sympathy—his pity. But his embrace around your middle is possessive as if to convey, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.
“You don’t have to tell me what’s on your mind,” he says, voice steeping low, gritty like sand caught between your toes after a day on the beach. He presses full lips against the slope of your jaw.
“But know that whatever storm you’re weathering, you don’t have to endure it alone.”
That’s the dam-breaker.
Tears spring to your eyes faster than you can think. A bitter sob forces its way past your lips. Why does he have to be so fucking sweet?
He holds you tighter as your body shakes. As you let go of everything you’ve been holding in for the past few months. Strokes reassurance into your stomach with his thumbs, nuzzling further into the hollow of your shoulder. Whispers words of encouragement and it’s alright’s in between your hiccups and apologies.
He doesn’t let go even long after your tears have dried up, and the rain’s let up outside. You feel sleep nipping at your psyche, at the edges of your vision. Maybe you just needed a good cry to tire you out. Open up those floodgates of contaminated water you’ve been fighting to contain.
But before you sink under, your boyfriend softly murmurs in your ear, “Ah ah ah. I bet you haven’t showered all day. I can smell it.”
You reach back to pinch his hip, a scowl screwing up your face as his chest shakes with affectionate laughter. You roll your eyes and wrench yourself free of his embrace. Snatch the blanket off your head—it was getting hot under there, anyway.
Sylus moves to the edge to draw you between his legs, a disarming smile cresting over his lips as he holds you at the waist. “There’s my girl,” he croons, pressing your foreheads together. Kisses you quick, but it's enough to leave you breathless.
You let him lead you to your bathroom to wash up. He leaves you to your own devices as the shower’s comforting spray washes over your skin. You lather up with your favorite body wash, the scent working as a soothing balm over your nerves.
He has your favorite robe and slippers waiting for you when you get out. Sits you on top of the toilet to dry your hair off. Maybe he uses a little too much leave-in conditioner, but he’s smiling all fond as he detangles your hair the way you taught him before taking his time blowdrying your hair.
He drags you into your kitchen for your favorite takeout. Entertains you with stories about the twins running him ragged. When you’re full and laughing and your cheeks ache from smiling so much, he holds you in your bed until your eyes grow heavy again. Hums something lucid, raspy.
“Sy,” you say with your back to him, voice weighed with sleep.
“Hmm? Yes, sweetheart?” he replies, lazily pulling at some strands of your hair. It feels good, pushing you further under.
“Thank you.”
You hear the smile in his voice. “Of course, sweetheart. Anything for you.”
━ .ᐟ✧ GENERAL CONTENT WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, mentions of alcohol, recreational drinking (characters and mc), jealousy (guys + mc), drunk characters (guys + mc), use of Y/N, pet names, unprotected sex, never pulling out, fluff/crack/banter, individual content warnings below with their respective fics
━ ✧.˖ LINKS: original inspo | ao3
A/N: SURPRISE ITS HERE EARLY! oof another fic for all four guys? who is she? but actually after this i likely won’t be writing for all four guys like this again, or at least for a while. if i can somehow get better at writing fics that are 1-2k then ill start doing scenarios with all four again! i tried to keep this one short and they’re still all 3-4.3k per guy…this scenario was originally based off the one video of the drunk asian guy! see the clip above under ‘links.’
enjoy guys!! i’ll be taking a much needed break but may write slowly in my own time :) just depends how i feel, how much inspiration i have! i’ll still be on tumblr but will mostly be on my twitter <3 until next time bbs!
THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.
✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖
━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 4.3k
━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, sylus refers to reader genitalia as ‘she,’ public sex, sex in an alley, standing/against the wall sex, finger sucking, choking, outdoor sex, voyeurism, needy sylus, drunk sylus, jealous sylus, use of pet names, mentions of guns, tiny bit of violence, cumming in coochie, panties over cummies
━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | video (how sylus kisses you in this)
Luke and Kieran watch the way Sylus’s eyes track you under the strobing lights of the nightclub. It wasn’t out of the norm for their dear boss to be obsessed with knowing a certain Hunter’s whereabouts. But this was excessive, even for him.
The way he’d already shattered two glasses with the force of his fingers, his eyes scarily unblinking as they trailed your every movement. The club manager didn’t dare kick Sylus out, apologizing to him as he’d cleaned up the glass from Sylus’s feet. But Sylus was too distracted to even notice.
The pair of troublemakers supposed it had to do with the fact that some sleezy drunk had his hands all over your bare thighs. They knew if Sylus had his way, that very man would be unconscious on the floor in half a second flat. But of course, when it came to you, Sylus was helpless as he was whipped, giving into your every desire, even if it physically pained him to do so.
And you had ordered Sylus not to intervene, not when you were undercover, trying to get classified information from the powerful men that frequented this very nightclub in the N109 zone. So he was left at the bar, quite literally fending thirsty women off left and right, watching the way you pretended to laugh amongst the unsuspecting targets. He tried to distract himself from the men who so clearly were thinking of ten different ways to fuck you.
A privilege reserved only for him.
So the twins, who had so enthusiastically begged to tag along, devised a plan to help Sylus take his mind off planning literal murder.
Really, they were trying to help!
But maybe they should’ve stopped after the fifth drink. When Sylus’s cheeks flushed the same shade of red as his eyes, ebbing all the way up to the tips of his ears.
And they definitely should’ve stopped after the tenth drink. When Sylus’s body started to move on its own accord, his Evol practically parting the crowd of drunk and sweaty clubbers to get to you.
But at that point there was no stopping the formidable man from taking what he wanted. And what he wanted, what he needed, was you.
Honestly, you nearly breathe a sigh of relief when you feel Sylus’s familiar Evol wrapping around your wrist, yanking you backward and away from the disgusting man trying to feel you up. You’re so happy to feel his strong arms around you that you don’t notice how atypically clumsy his Evol feels, like grasping for something when blindfolded.
“We’re leaving.”
Sylus’s words are dominating and commanding, ‘no’ not even a fathomable possibility. But there’s a slight waver in his gruff voice that makes you raise your eyebrow at him in question.
The idiotic man before you wraps his clammy hands around your waist, pulling you back, “Hey man. We’re in the middle of something.”
You look up to see Sylus’s crimson eyes, trained on the way the man’s fingers dig into your bare skin, burning with something dangerous, the air around him crackling with an erratic and sinister energy, and you know you have to defuse the situation as quickly as you can.
You bring your elbow to the man’s groin, digging hard. He groans pathetically, wilting to his knees. Truthfully, you didn’t have to elbow him that hard, but you’d become nauseated with how disgustingly he’d been looking at you, touching you, for the past thirty minutes.
“No, we’re really not.”
With that, you slip into Sylus’s side, his large arm wrapping possessively around your naked shoulders, your hand resting on his abdomen. Sylus’s lips quirk up, deeply satisfied with the way you can bring men twice your size to their knees before they can even blink. His girl.
As the two of you make your way out of the crowd, you start to notice the way Sylus’s movements are unusually sluggish, his feet trudging one after the other. Considering Sylus was always poised and elegant, you instantly knew something was amiss. When Luke and Kieran fall into step behind you, you turn to the two masked men.
“What happened?!” you hissed at them, “What happened to ‘Watch Sylus? Easy peasy lemon squeezy?!’” Your fingers are raised in air-quotes as you recall their confident words and uncontrollable giggles when you’d tasked them with keeping Sylus in line, knowing he’d have a hard time watching you faux flirt with other men, no matter how self assured he was.
Kieran is the first to speak, clearing his throat as the four of you exit the nightclub, the night air ruffling through your hair, “Well, you see –”
But he’s cut off when Sylus roughly grabs your chin, pulling your eyes up to his.
“Hey. Look at me.”
Your eyes flicker to his, surprised by his demanding, yet needy, words. Sylus smiles when you look up at him, his eyes, as unfocused as they were, beaming down at you.
His rough fingers caress your cheek, burying his face into your hair, inhaling your intoxicating scent, “Beautiful.”
The scent of alcohol on his breath is so strong you nearly wince. Luke and Kieran seem to notice your realization at the same time, their eyes widening as you start to yell in disbelief.
“Is he drunk?!” you demand, your arms wrapping tighter around his waist, Sylus in a world of his own as he mutters incoherent mumblings into your hair, shifting his weight onto you.
The twins grin at you sheepishly, raising their hands in surrender. Luke speaks, “Well, in our defense, boss never gets drunk –”
“Yeah! Boss is such a heavyweight –”
“So we thought, a few drinks might loosen him up –”
“You should’ve seen him! He was thiiiiiis close to commiting a crime –”
“So really, you should be thanking us!”
The twins finish rattling off, looking at you with puppy eyes.
You sigh, unable to feign anger at them, “How many drinks did you give him?”
“Umm…what was it Kieran…like…eight?” Your eyes widen as they scratch their chins.
“No…no, it was definitely closer to…like twelve?”
“Well we also gave him those cute little drinks with the umbrellas, he seemed to really like those!”
“Yeah and they had little chunks of fruit in them! Maybe that cancels out the alcohol?”
“Yeah! And the one with the olives too! Plus, boss always drinks like a bottle of wine a night!
“So we thought…a few mixed drinks…couldn’t hurt anyone!”
Your head spins as you try to keep up with their conversation, digging through your purse to find the unopened half bottle of water you’d brought. You quickly unscrew it, bringing it up to Sylus’s lips.
Sylus looks surprised when the cool plastic touches his lips, but once his hazy eyes focus on you again, he visibly relaxes. The sharp vermillion hues in his irises melt at the reflection of you, softening into the most beautiful carmine pools of red wine.
His hands come over to cup yours, holding your fingers affectionately in his as you tilt the water back so he can drink. You have to tip toe upward so you can follow his grip, his gulps greedy and eyelids shut in relief, the sensation of your hand cupping his jaw feeling like his own personal heaven.
With the plastic at his moistened lips, his eyes flutter open to look at you, his lids heavy with intoxication. Even though his eyes swim with a murky tiredness, they glow when they watch you, glimmering with a star-struck adoration. His intensity stares you down, a knowing heat piercing right through you. The very same heat that has seen both your naked body and soul.
The moment feels hot and strangely intimate. It definitely felt illegal to have Sylus looking at you like that while Luke and Kieran stood behind you.
He’s so distracted by you, eyes never leaving yours, that nearly a third of the water splashes onto his chest and the pavement floor. He drinks so enthusiastically that you almost want to giggle at how submissive he looks, drinking so obediently from your hands, eyes following your every move. Fortunately the pair of whispers behind you remind you that, even if Sylus stares at you like he’s ready to mount you right then and there, you are not alone.
When the bottle drains, he crumples it in one hand, tossing it to the nearest waste bin.
As it hits the metal trash can, you tear your eyes away from the way Sylus heatedly watches you, turning back to Luke and Kieran, “Are you two insane?!”
The twins look positively offended.
“How did you even convince him to drink so much?”
“Well, he was so distracted watching you that he just downed anything we put into his hands...”
You bite your lip, realizing how difficult it must’ve been for Sylus to sit back and just watch. But he did it, for you.
“Y/N.”
You try to ignore the way Sylus is stroking the bare skin of your shoulders, fingers coming dangerously close to your neck. His ruby eyes beg for your attention.
“Sylus might drink a lot, but he drinks wine –”
“Y/N.”
“Not hard alcohol! Look at how red he is! You guys, this was recklessly irresponsible!”
“Y/N.”
Sylus pulls you forcefully back into his arms, his head dipping into the crook of your neck, teeth nipping at your pulse. Through the darkness of the night, you pray Luke and Kieran can’t see the way Sylus whispers into your ear.
“I need you.”
You fight the shiver that threatens to unleash through your unsuspecting body, his hot breath washing against your skin, the contrast of the brisk night air making you all the more sensitive. His fingers hold you in place, his hard body pressed into your own.
You sigh, trying to brush the arousal away, “Let’s get you home, yeah? We can –”
He nips at your earlobe, eliciting a squeak from your lips as he gruffly demands, “Now.”
Before you can protest further, Sylus’s eyes direct to the twins in front of you, the pair of them snickering to themselves knowingly as he dismisses them, “We’ll meet you at home.”
–
You didn’t even make it to your car.
Far from it, you found yourself pressed into the cold brickwall of a nearby alleyway, not fifteen feet from where Luke and Kieran had left the two of you. Sylus’s lips are latched onto yours in a furiously passionate embrace, his hands alternating between grabbing torridly at your waist and threading into the back of your neck, weaving into your sweat-dampened hair.
Your arms are wrapped around his neck for support against his torridly forceful kiss, his head tilted to the side to give him full access to your mouth, your lips, your tongue.
He doesn’t even stop to breathe, opting to inhale your breath as his own. His tongue forcefully explores every inch of your open and willing mouth, and you struggle to keep up with his excitement. His fingers massage your neck, grabbing eagerly at every part of you he can reach.
Sylus has always been passionate, but this was something else. It felt as if the alcohol in his blood amplified everything tenfold, leaving his cock thicker than ever against your shivering abdomen. His hands roam down your naked back, pulling at your waist again, pressing your body harder against his erection that leaks against his underwear.
Sylus’s head tilts to the other side, your face moving opposite his to instinctively receive his unbridled passion. He cups the back of your head again, shielding you head from hitting the wall, the force of his kiss pushing you against it violently.
He pulls away briefly, panting into you, his canines grazing into the soft skin of your ear, “You’re going to be the death of me, little dove.”
You want to question him, but his lips are back on yours in an instant, consuming you once more. His fingers grip your jaw so tightly, funneling all the emotions he’d held back, while watching you on the dancefloor with other men, into the way he holds you against the wall. Into the way he devours you.
He gives you a brief second of reprieve, pressing his lips into your neck, voice coming out husky and sulky, “I don’t enjoy seeing you with other men.”
You gasp as he pushes you impossibly deeper into the wall, teeth simultaneously digging into the curve of your neck. Your fingers thread up into his hair, tugging to ground yourself as Sylus sucks your soft skin.
“M-sooorry,” you slur, as if you’re the one who’s drunk, “B-But I got the information I – nnghn – needed.”
Sylus growls into your skin, “I knew you would. You’re a force to be reckoned with.”
His thumb presses against your bottom lip, eyes glazed over with a drunken hunger, “And you always have me at your mercy.”
It isn’t long before he has your back arched into his abdomen, the front of your sweat slicked body pressed into the cold alley wall, his cock buried in your wet gummy walls. Your panties are pushed messily to the side, your skirt hiked up to your waist.
Sylus’s fingers are shoved into your mouth, claiming to try and minimize your sounds so passerbys don't hear the filthy things he was doing to you. In reality, he was just addicted to your sweet mouth wrapped around him.
His other hand holds both of your wrists, locking them against the small of your back, leaving you absolutely at the mercy of his thick cock ramming in and out of you.
“S-so damn beautiful,” Sylus is almost slurring, having gotten more drunk the longer the alcohol sat in his stomach. The acoustics of the dark alley made his body pounding against yours all the louder and more sinful.
His thrusts are sloppy, the alcohol making it harder for him to maintain control. But that only serves to arouse you more, the sight of Sylus’s hazy eyes when you crane your neck back to see him, the sweat sticking to his flushed skin.
You can only moan, the pads of his fingers pressing down into your tongue. The loud drunken giggles of people passing by make your eyes widen, but Sylus doesn’t stop, only going faster.
“Never gonna let another man touch you, ever again,” he moans into your ear, as he ruts angrily into your g spot, his fingers pressing tiny bruises into the fat of your hips. He’s ten times handsier when he’s drunk, almost as if the alcohol makes his muscles itch, your body his fixation..
He spins you around suddenly, nearly making you lose your balance, his cock entering you just as quickly as it had slipped out. Sylus is desperate to see your beautifully hooded eyes, the faces you make when you come undone for him.
You grip the thick muscles of his neck, admiring his damp and exposed chest. The buttons of his shirt had been yanked open in the drunken shuffle, leaving little to imagination.
“H-Hey,” Sylus mutters, the faintest hint of a whine beneath his words, “Look at me.” His thrusts, sloppier than ever, never stopping.
You grin, despite how blissed out your mind is becoming, at his adorably needy behavior. As you let your eyes lose themselves in his, you stroke his jaw lovingly.
“Tell me,” he pants, his cock twitching as it presses insistently into your walls.
“Nngh — T-Tell you what Sy?” you coo breathlessly, nails digging into his sweaty skin, trying to distract yourself from the no doubt filthy brick wall pressing into your exposed back.
“Tell me how I make you feel,” Sylus’s jaw tightens dangerously.
He thrusts especially hard and deep when you don’t respond, capturing your wrist and pressing it into the wall above your head, effectively trapping you against the wall, “Tell me.”
You squeal, biting your lips, “Sylus! F-Feels s’good. N-No one else can — hng — make me feel like this!”
Sylus’s glossy ruby red eyes flicker, his fingers finding your clit pressed against his pelvis, “Yeah? You love my cock, don’t you sweetheart?”
You want to smile at how adorably needy his words are, the alcohol fueling him with the rare desire to be validated. Instead you just nod vehemently as he plays with your clit, “I dooo!”
Sylus grunts, struggling to breathe as you tighten around him. He grabs your cheeks in between his fingers, squeezing them firmly until your moans are muffled, “Shhh, we wouldn’t want someone to find us, would we little bird?”
You nod obediently, but your body responds instinctively to his words, your abdomen fluttering in excitement at the thought of being caught in such a compromising position, with the revered leader of Onychinus no less.
Sylus chuckles darkly, his every nerve receptive to your tiniest micromovements, and especially the excited way your pussy clamps down on his erection. His lips come down to kiss your jaw sweetly, contrary to the mean way he bullies himself into your cunt.
When he reaches the space beneath your ear he presses a tender kiss there, whispering huskily, “I can feel the way you’re tightening around me. Do you like the idea of someone watching us?”
Your eyes widen at him, and that’s all the answer he needs.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I would love to give them a show. Especially that man who had his hands all over you, hm? What was his name?”
“I-I d-don’t – hah – remember,” you wheeze, holding on as he bounces you into the wall, the sound of drunk bar patrons growing louder.
Sylus smiles darkly, his red eyes glowing in satisfaction, “Good girl. This pussy belongs t’me, hm?” His words come out in a purr, slightly sluggish with intoxication.
You can’t speak, opting to nod as eagerly as you can, your brain muddling against the pleasure of your joined bodies. Sylus chuckles at your wordless agreement.
“My precious dove…can’t even speak?” he coos, fingers still splayed out against your poor quivering clit, the wet sounds of his furious ministrations echoing throughout the dark alley. He leans in close to your ear.
“That’s okay, sweetheart. She’s so loud she might as well be answering for you,” he grins, clearly talking about your soaked and squelching pussy against his demanding thrusts.
You’re about to retort when you hear another group of people passing by the alley. Your hands fly up to your mouth, forcing your uncontrollable moans away. Your eyes squeeze shut as the patter of feet gets closer and closer, fear and excitement taking over.
“Ah-ah,” Sylus tuts, “You know better than to hide your beautiful sounds from me.” Your eyes widen when his words sink in.
Your hands fly to Sylus’s broad shoulders, but it’s too late to push him back. His hands find the globes of your ass, lifting you off the floor, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. At this angle Sylus can fully bounce you on his cock, using you however he wants. At this angle, the swollen tip brushes right into your cervix. At this angle, it’s physically impossible for you to muffle your cries.
Your nails dig into the ropes of his shoulder muscles as you squeal. Sylus only grins as the sound of feet falter, right in front of the alley.
You try your best to whisper, “Sy-Sylus, please. Th-they’ll hear.” But it was pointless. Even if you could hold back your whimpers, the echo of his arousal dampened pelvis slapping against the space where your thighs met your ass bounced off the walls of the alley like a resounding bell.
“You say that…” he murmurs, fingers coming back down to your clit, balancing you in just one arm, “But why is she getting so tight?”
He’s right, and there’s no denying it. Sylus is well acquainted with your body, knowing exactly what excites you, what you don’t like, what you love.
The heavy footsteps gradually fade, likely too drunk to hear anything than the pounding of distant EDM music. Sylus hears you sigh in relief, releasing a bated breath, but your cunt stays as tight as ever around him. It drives him insane.
Nearly getting caught has only pushed both of you to the cusp of your orgasms.
“Close, dove?” Sylus whispers into your ear, one hand pressed into the wall, the other bouncing you on his quivering cock.
Your head is thrown back as you nod, gasping for your next breath, “Y-Yes! So cloooose Sy!” At this point you don’t even care who could possibly hear you, only able to focus on the angry way Sylus’s cock twitching inside you, stroking your g-spot, begging to paint you white.
“M-Me too, Y/N,” Sylus’s uncharacteristic stutter, driven to madness by the alcohol and you, makes you clench down, hard.
He hisses, hips stuttering, teeth clamping down on your shoulder, tongue subsequently coming out to lap at the space where he bit down, soothing your skin.
The push of pain, the pull of pleasure, it’s just enough to tip you over, careening down the cliff of your orgasm. Your head falls back, eyes rolling with them, body fully preparing to show Sylus just how much you loved him.
But Sylus has other plans, squeezing your cheeks in between his fingers, directing you to look at him.
“Hey. Look at me, please.”
His commanding words remind you that he’s very much still intoxicated, making him adorably needy for your attention.
When your eyes level with his, his red eyes sparkle happily, like a puppy getting its ears scratched, “Hello, my love. Show me, hm?” The duality of his lovable desperation and his downright malevolent plunges into your cervix blurs the lines between pleasure and reality, sanity and madness.
You nod eagerly, holding his intense eye contact, while you burst at the seams, spraying all over his still clothed abdomen. Sparks of white hot electricity travel through every one of your nerve endings while you cum on him.
Sylus gulps, in awe of the way you sing for him, shame thrown to the wind. If anyone were to walk by, they’d hear the way you screamed for his cock. Hear the way your body made him gasp for his next breath. How he grunts with each rope of cum that he dumps into your waiting hole, each sloppy pump filling his vision with bleary stars.
As he cums, he whispers brokenly into your ear, “C-Can never get enough. I love you, sweetheart.” One of his big hands comes up to clamp around your throat, his fingers pressing down forcefully as he erupts inside of you.
“Ngh…I love you Sylus,” you murmur against the pleasure of your constricted air flow, clinging to him, truly like an injured bird.
Sylus kisses your lips tenderly as you both come down from your highs, his fingers carefully laying your panties back in place. When he sets you on the ground, you nearly collapse, your legs quivering from the way they’d been locked around his waist. His arms are back around you in an instant, holding you steady. His cum flows out of you like literal tears, but you can only clamp your thighs shut and pray your pathetic soiled panties can catch the streams of his milky seed.
He guides you carefully out of the alley, pressing affectionate kisses into the crown of your head as he holds your waist protectively. You’re so dazed you hardly notice that your skirt is still ridden up, until Sylus gently pulls it back down, smoothing the rumpled fabric with his large hands.
The sounds of two far too familiar voices greet you when you emerge from the backstreet.
“Are you guys finally done?”
“Do you have any idea how long we’ve been waiting?!”
Sylus groans, running his hand down his face, “Didn’t I tell you two to go back to base?”
And though you’re thoroughly mortified at the idea of the twins having walked into your…situation, you can’t help but smile at the way Sylus handles Luke and Kieran. Like a father reprimanding his children.
“Well we did —”
“But then you guys didn’t come back for a while —”
“So we thought maybe something happened!”
You shake your head at their frenzied explanation, the smile stretching on your lips as you watch the twins move their hands animatedly in their defense, “You guys are impossible.”
Luke gasps in exaggerated earnest, “How can you say that after what you’ve put us through?”
Kieran nods in agreement, shuddering dramatically, “Yeah! I feel like I just walked in on my parents…”
“You two better watch yourselves before I confiscate your guns again,” Sylus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. But you can see the corner of his lips fighting an amused smile.
Luke and Kieran simultaneously gasp, their reaction making it seem like Sylus was a father grounding his children, taking away their toys. You burst out into giggles, hugging Sylus’s side to keep warm as you watch the comical situation unfold.
“There’s no need for you to do that, Sy,” you murmur, looking up at him, admiring the way the moonlight frames his face. Sylus peers down at you, his face softening, before nodding curtly.
The twins snicker. Luke uses his hand as a shield in front of his mouth to whisper to Kieran, pointing to Sylus behind it, “Whipped.”
You shoot them a smile, a deceptively innocent and sweet grin, “I’ll gladly confiscate them for you.”
There’s nearly a cartoon puff of smoke left behind when the twins scurry off, desperately clutching their holsters and begging for mercy.
Sylus chuckles as he watches them run off, his arm slung over your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side as he presses a kiss into your forehead.
“Truly a force to be reckoned with.”
━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.8k
━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, drunk mc and xavier, pre-established relationship (but not first time), public sex/voyeurism, sex on the dance floor, standing sex, fingering, dancing without leaving room for jesus, grinding, jealous!mc, not a content warning but xavier is wearing tight black shirt and jeans…….MMMMMM, unprotected sex, handjob through clothes
━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | pics (how xavier and you make out in this)
The thumping beat of club music pounds in your ears, making it difficult to hear even your own thoughts. But you really didn’t care, too intoxicated and having too much fun dancing with Tara in a throng of sweaty club goers.
The both of you had requested today off, wanting to see an up and coming DJ at the Linkon Lounge. You’d started the night off at your apartment, getting dolled up in your wispiest lashes and outfits that made you feel strong, confident, and beautiful. You’d shared a couple shots of tequila before slipping on your heels and scrambling out of your apartment, in a fit of tipsy and hushed giggles.
Coincidentally enough, you ran into Xavier on your way out. Your blonde-haired partner was in the apartment lobby, grabbing his mail, when you and Tara bumped into him, literally. If it weren’t for Xavier’s quick reflexes, his forearm darting out to wrap around your waist, you definitely would’ve ended the night before it began, with an ice pack in your hand rather than a fruity drink.
And that’s when Tara had invited Xavier out with you. Truthfully, you were sure Xavier would say no. The club definitely wasn’t his scene, and he undoubtedly had plans to have a cozy night in. But you were pleasantly surprised when he blurted out ‘yes’ before Tara could even get the words completely out. Tara knew Xavier wanted to come to keep an eye on you, and she was all too happy to play matchmaker.
You hadn’t seen Xavier for what felt like at least fifteen minutes. You assumed he went off to the bathroom, or maybe to order some more drinks. Before long, you started to worry.
“I’m gonna go look for Xavier! Will you be okay?” you practically scream over the music, pulling the side of Tara’s face to your mouth so she can hear you better.
“I’ll be here!” she yells, pointing at her phone, “Text me if you can’t find me!” You nod, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
You push your way out of the crowd, apologizing profusely as you’re met with the displeased looks and groans of drunk patrons.
Eventually you make your way to the edge of the dancefloor, scouring the area for Xavier. You had a difficult time focussing your eyes, stumbling about, but did your best to look for the enigmatic Hunter.
You quickly check the line at the bar before deciding to check the bathroom. It’s then you catch the glint of familiar platinum blonde hair, Xavier’s body leaned up against the wall near the public water fountains.
You gulp at the sight of him, his head leaned back to rest against the wall, his hands folded across his chest. The musky sweat of the enclosed space made his black fitted t-shirt cling to his biceps, his skin glistening with sweat under the pulsing LED lights.
Even from this far away, it’s clear Xavier is drunk. His eyes are hooded with intoxication, his throat bobbing with shallow breaths.
You’re about to approach him when the groups of people in front of you shift, and you see a girl latched onto Xavier’s bicep. The two look far too cozy, Xavier not doing anything to push her off as she speaks animatedly up at him, her eyelashes batting seductively.
It’s not like you and Xavier were dating…but it was clear there was something deeply intertwined about the two of you. That, and the fact that you’d been intimate several times. But you had to admit, you’d never made things exclusive.
You turn on your heel, thoroughly perturbed at the sight of Xavier with someone else, making your way back to where you’d left Tara.
You’d just broken into the crowd when a firm hand catches your wrist, stopping you from pushing further. You turn back sharply, ready to throw your fist back, only to be met with the sight of Xavier, in all his flushed and handsome glory.
“Where are you going?”
You fight the urge to smack him, jealousy a true green-eyed monster, instead just feigning ignorance, “What? I can’t hear you!” You gesture wildly with your hands to emphasize your point. You turn away from him, starting to tug your wrist away again when he pulls you back, hard.
He twirls you effortlessly into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you, secure and unrelenting. You look up at him in question. He leans down, and your breath catches as his lips come an inch away from yours. But he doesn’t kiss you, instead whispering into your ear.
“I asked where you were going. Didn’t you see me?” his breath is warm against your ear, the smell of alcohol invading your senses over the pounding music.
“You looked busy. I didn’t want to intrude,” you try to keep your voice level, but you can tell it comes out petty. You hope through the deafening music, Xavier can’t hear how sulky your voice is.
Xavier looks confused in his drunken state, but shouts into your ear, his tone genuine and endearing even amidst the music, “You’re never intruding.”
You sigh at his sweet words, tiptoeing up to speak to him and trying to be nice, “Who was your friend?”
Xavier looks even more bewildered for a second, before realizing the implications of your words, a lazy smile painting his features. He holds you close, one hand on the small of your back, the other coming up to touch your cheek.
“Not my friend. She couldn’t find her friends and wanted to wait with me.”
You roll your eyes. Xavier was too sweet and unassuming for his own good.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Xavier chuckles, “You don’t have to be jealous, I only have eyes for you.”
Your cheeks flare amidst the flush of alcohol on your cheeks at his words, and before you can speak Xavier is leaning down to kiss you. You squeak in surprise, but respond to his lips, kissing him back.
Xavier kisses you slowly, gently, and tenderly. You can barely even hear the music around you, the musky people bumping into the pair of you. All you can feel is Xavier, lips on yours, his hands stroking your bare skin, his hardening erection against your stomach.
He pulls away for air, his lips swollen and wet from your passionate kiss. Your ears pound in excitement at the way Xavier looks down at you, hungry and wanting more. You hook your arms around Xavier’s neck, pulling him down until your foreheads brush against each other.
“Dance with me,” you whisper loudly against the music. Xavier’s eyes shine with excitement, and he nods, his hands gripping your waist as you start to sway to the music.
You turn around so you can watch the flashing lights, the alcohol making them look like a light show. You feel much bolder with the liquid courage running through your veins, so you grind back into Xavier, your rear molding perfectly against his crotch.
Xavier hardens so quickly against your movements, your body feeling so perfect against his. The alcohol makes everything feel much more fluid and raw, his body responding excitedly.
He too is fueled by the courage of intoxication, his hands roaming from your hips to your stomach, just above the fat of your cunt. He can feel the way you shiver at his touch, and he decides to dare further.
His strong hands wander up, until they cup your breasts through your sheer dress. He rests his chin on your shoulder, whispering into your ear.
“Is this alright?”
You crane your neck backwards to nod at him, eyes flickering to his lips. Xavier leans in to kiss you again, one hand still playing with your nipple, the other reaching up to hold your throat against him gently. The two of you kiss so passionately, so messily, that you hardly notice the crowd of equally drunk and horny people around you.
As you kiss him, your hand comes backward to cup the back of Xavier’s head, grabbing at his soft blonde locks. Your body continues to rock sensually into him, relishing in the way his hard erection sits between the slit of your ass.
Looking up at him through your wet eyelashes, you whisper, “M-More. I want more.”
Xavier groans, looking around, trying to find the quickest way out of the crowd. But you can’t wait, too aroused by the way Xavier’s shirt clings to his muscles, the way his cock fights against his jeans, straining to be with you.
The alcohol dares you to be bolder than you normally would ever be. You grab his wrist, bringing it down to the hem of your minidress, guiding his fingers to slip under it.
You can feel Xavier stiffen behind you, eyes darting around to make sure no one is watching. But he quickly realizes quite literally no one cares about the two of you, too focussed on the music, too focussed on their own partners, to even spare you a glance.
So he follows your lead, his hands roaming under your dress, digging into your soft thighs. You moan into his ear, your head laid back on his shoulder.
With his palm so close to your cunt, you grind right into his open hand, wanting more friction, more of him. Xavier groans at your enthusiasm, quickly forgetting about the people that are packed around you like sardines. He feels something damp against his fingers, making him all the more desperate to have you.
“You’re wet,” Xavier whispers sluggishly into your ear, “Is this all for me?”
You groan at his words, your muscles twitching with anticipation. You try and look at him, the back of your head still resting on his thick shoulder. Your hand grasps at the back of his neck, forcing his eyes to drift down to you, the azure blues flickering to your lips before they come back to your gaze.
“Touch me, please.”
Even under the strobing lights of the club you can see Xavier’s eyes darken, his jaw tightening. His eyes flutter shut as he leans down to kiss you.
At the same time, his finger gingerly dips into your folds, moving your panties to the side. At first he just rubs up and down with his middle finger, enjoying the way you moan into his mouth. But it becomes far too unbearable, not being inside you.
He slowly dips his middle finger inside of you, hissing when your little hole sucks him in tightly.
“Is this okay?” Xavier asks, wanting to make sure you’re alright. Your eyes dart around lazily, making sure no one can see Xavier’s hands underneath your dress.
You nod, your eyelashes fluttering shut as Xavier starts to pump in and out of you. The energetic music makes everything feel more surreal, only the occasional jostling of people bumping into the pair of you reminding you of exactly where you are.
Xavier’s index finger finds its way inside you, his thumb rubbing at your slippery clit. He alternates his free arm between shielding you from people pushing as they pass by, and cupping your breast through your dress. In all your writhing, your ass continues to grind against Xavier’s cock. Under his jeans, he’s leaking so profusely that your body rubs around the slick, creating a sticky mess.
Xavier pumps inside you, enjoying the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him, the feeling of risk and wrong.
“Please – Please don’t stop,” you pant, looking up at him with starry eyes.
The look of complete and utter bliss on your gorgeously flushed face makes Xavier bite his lip, “I’ll never stop, angel.”
You clench down hard on his fingers at the endearing pet name, one he so rarely called you. It makes you writhe against his hot and hard body, pressed firmly into you, like a puzzle piece.
With your back still turned to him, you reach your hand back to where his bulge presses into you. With careful hands, you cup the massive swell of his manhood, biting your lip when he moans into your ear, teeth grazing against your earlobe.
You rub him enthusiastically through his jeans, enjoying the way he writhes under your touch, his cock straining through the tight restraint of his pants.
“You’re evil,” Xavier groans, pressing kisses into your neck, trying to contain the moans he wants to make for you.
You lean your head back, staring at him through hooded eyes, “Should I stop?”
Xavier holds you tight, almost crushing you, to keep you from stopping.
“No. Never.”
You giggle, turning back to the club stage, watching the DJ perform, hands finding their way back to Xavier’s crotch. His pants are heavy and breathy by your ear, fingers scissoring in and out of you furiously.
Soon enough, the feeling of just your plush body against his isn’t enough anymore. He needs more.
With his fingers never pausing, he asks, his voice smooth and sultry, “I need to be inside of you, is that okay?”
“Please,” you whisper huskily, grinding against his fingers, “I want you.”
You can feel Xavier shifting behind you, pulling out his cock. He feverishly pulls your panties down just slightly, so that they rest under your cheeks. He lifts your dress, enough to give him access but making sure you’re still covered. He would rather die than let anyone see your precious body.
As the music comes to a peak, the beat building alongside your release, Xavier slips his erection into you. You’re thankful for the heavy bass of the drop because you quite literally cannot hold back the scream that rips from your lips as he pushes himself into the hilt.
One of his hands travels from your waist to under the front of your dress. When he finds your clit, he pinches down hard.
“You’re so cute,” Xavier hisses into your ear, picking up his pace, “Were you jealous earlier?”
“N-No! Don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout,” you whimper, your fingers gripping the arm he has buried between your legs.
“Mmm,” Xavier hums, clearly not convinced, “That’s alright, Y/N. You have nothing to be jealous of, ever.”
“I-I’m not – I wasn’t!” you gasp, forcing the words together as Xavier’s cock nearly finds its way into your throat. But at this point you knew he could see right through you.
“Would travel through time and space for you,” he murmurs, words full of a boundless affection, “I only see you.”
He puts all that same adoration and passion into the way he fucks up into you, holding you protectively in place, making sure no one so much as brushes against you.
Your moans are strangled when his cockhead angles into your g-spot, cutting off the drunken confessions on the tip of your tongue. Xavier’s girth was always something you had a hard time getting used to, and taking him standing was infinitely harder. Your inner thighs burned with the strain of how fully he stretches you out.
Xavier’s hand comes over to cover your mouth, his smile pressed against your throat. The alcohol makes Xavier irregularly chatty, his inhibitions lowered completely, “You’re so loud. Does it feel that good?”
Your eyes are rolled back mesmerized by the flashing lights, unable to discern what comes from the nightclub’s light show and what comes from the pleasure of Xavier’s poignant thrusts. You do your best to nod, your teeth sinking into Xavier’s palm to keep yourself conscious.
You’re nearly doubled over now, your jelly legs unable to hold you up, with only the support of Xavier’s strong hand against your cunt and his other arm wrapped around your chest. He holds you up as securely as he can, his own intoxication growing having not drank any water since you’d arrived at the club.
“Are you okay?”
Xavier’s head snaps up to see a club patron in front of you, a concerned look on his face as he kneels down to be eye-level with you. Xavier squick readjusts to make sure you’re covered.
Your eyes widen, trying to straighten up, “F-Fine!” You nearly scream as Xavier continues to thrust into you, his movement much more conspicuous but somehow more intense.
“Are you sure? You don’t look so good.”
You want to be kind, but you can really only focus on the way Xavier continues to fuck you, not even caring that the good Samaritan in front of you was this close to realizing what was happening. The fact that you were still very much drunk did not help.
“N-No, I’m fine,” you squeak, eyes rolling back when Xavier hits your g-spot. You can’t see him but you just know he’s enjoying the position he has you in. He smirks in satisfaction, grinding into your ass, his thick length nestling into your every nerve.
The man looks skeptical, especially at your unfocused hooded eyes, “Do you want some water?”
He’s about to reach out to touch you, when Xavier yanks you back, both arms wrapped protectively around you, “She’s fine.”
At Xavier’s harsh tone, the man recoils, looking up, almost as if he’s just noticing Xavier. He nods awkwardly before disappearing into the crowd.
Xavier resumes his vigor, kissing your neck and whispering, “Mine.”
“Now look who’s jealous,” you giggle languidly, gasping when Xavier drives into you harder.
“Not jealous. It’s just the truth,” he murmurs, tilting your head back to kiss you, fingers back on your clit.
His tongue explores your mouth excitedly, your pleasures quickly reaching a peak after coming close to being caught. Your body convulses around him, wanting him to push you into the oblivion of ecstasy.
“Always so tight,” Xavier groans, “I-I won’t last long like this…”
You squeal, your sounds drowned out by the vibrating music, “Ngh – me too Xavier.”
“G-Gonna cum,” Xavier gasps as your cunt strangles him, ripping away from your lips and panting for air.
You crane your neck back to look at him, your eyes wide with wonder and desperation. The blissed out look on your beautiful face makes Xavier groan, his hips stuttering into his climax.
“Cum for me, Xavier,” you beg, impossibly close as well, “Want to feel you.”
Xavier shuts his eyes, his body following your every command. His cock explodes inside you, filling you with a hot warmth that spreads all the way to your fingertips and toes. Xavier doesn’t speak as he cums, only suckling hungrily at your neck, moaning and whimpering into your bruised skin.
He keeps thrusting into you, even as his cum starts to leak out of your hole, wanting you to come undone too. Even when the overstimulation starts to border on pain, he refuses to stop.
His cum makes it so there’s zero resistance, only the pure pleasure of his cock against your throbbing gummy walls. Soon, you’re cumming too, screaming into the pulsating music, your climax crescendoing with the drop of the song. The symphony of it all, the alcohol, the threat of being caught by any one of the dozens of people around you, makes it one of your most intense orgasms yet.
Your body instinctively clenches down as you release, making you cream all over Xavier, a mix of both your arousals. Xavier watches in awe at the beautiful way you cum, for him. It’s enough to make him pump a few more ropes into you, even as his dick throbs sharply in protest.
Xavier hugs you to his chest tightly, holding onto you for support as his cock quivers inside you. You can feel his chest heaving against your back, shifting as he slips out of you and redoes his zipper. Xavier puts your panties back into place, pressing a faint trail of kisses along your shoulders.
Suddenly, the crowd feels suffocating and icky and you desperately want to be somewhere quieter with Xavier. You pull him out of the crowd, nudging throngs of drunk and horny patrons out of the way as you make your way to the bar. Xavier follows you sluggishly, his fingers barely closing over yours as you guide him out..
When you reach the bar, you order a water and turn to Xavier worriedly, cupping his cheeks in your hands.
“Xavier,” you urged, “Are you okay?”
Xavier’s eyes flutter open, his eyes slightly rolled back, “M’okay. Just sleepy.” You giggle, patting his face gently, realizing the haze in his eyes is a mix of intoxication and post-sex bliss.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, you’re always so sleepy. Especially after…”
Despite Xavier’s eyes remaining closed, he smiles and mumbles as he leans against the wall next to the bar, “Can’t help it. You drain me.”
You blush furiously, despite it being loud enough where no one can hear you two. The bartender hands you a glass of water, and you bring it up to Xavier’s lips. Xavier’s eyelids flicker open, his long eyelashes fluttering as he takes in his surroundings again, like he’s so intoxicated off the alcohol and you that he can’t make sense of his bearings.
You take his chin into your palm, tilting him up gently so the water doesn’t spill. Xavier drinks obediently, not letting a single drop go to waste. His position against the wall makes it so that you tower a few inches over him, so he has to look up at you through his eyelashes. With each gulp of the icy water he never breaks eye contact with you, staring at you with all the awe and devotion in the world.
His hands gently grip your wrists, nuzzling into your hand. The way he watches you makes you want to squirm, his eyes glimmering under the flashing lights. His azure eyes feel like they hold the weight of an entire galaxy, but in reality it’s the reflection of you that makes his eyes sparkle with the brilliance of the stars.
“Hey! There you two are!”
You whip your head around to see Tara excitedly hurrying over to you as Xavier finishes the last of the water.
You turn to her, “Tara! I’m sorry, I found Xavier but then we got…caught up.”
She smiles and shakes her head. There’s a knowing mischief in her eyes, as if she doesn’t believe you, “It’s alright! I made some friends.”
She looks at Xavier. Even though you no longer hold up the empty glass to his lips, he still stares at you with the same starstruck look, a post-orgasm mist over his entire face.
“Why does he look like that?”
Your cheeks burn and you scramble to find an excuse, “Oh, he’s fine! He’s just drunk. And sleepy. Very sleepy.”
Tara grabs your chin, tilting it up in a squint, inspecting you. You’re about to ask what’s wrong, if maybe your false eyelashes came off, but when you look down at your shoulder you see exactly what she’s looking at.
A bright red, purpling bruise. In the exact shape of Xavier’s lips.
“Oh, I bet he’s sleepy.”
━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.7k
━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, drunk zayne, needy zayne, jealous zayne, couch sex, booby sucking, pretty vanilla tbh, slightly sub zayne, zayne begs a lot, prone bone, doggy, choking, making out, cumming in coochie, mentions of birth control usage, zayne is a lightweight
━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | video | art (credit to @roschea-arts)
You stumble into your apartment, nearly tripping over the threshold as Zayne’s heavy arm slumps over your shoulder for support. You kick your heels off, briefly bending down to slip Zayne’s shoes off, before you lead him to sit on your couch.
“Sit here while I get some water for you, okay?” you whisper worriedly against Zayne’s nearly unconscious face, pressing a kiss to his heated and clammy temple. Zayne doesn’t respond, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes a shallow breath, nodding gently.
Well, this was definitely not how you’d expected tonight to go.
When you’d invited Zayne as your date to the annual UNICORN hosted Hunters’ Association Banquet, you expected it to be a relatively uneventful night. You never expected your raven-haired surgeon boyfriend to get drunk. In fact, you’d never seen him so much as tipsy since you’d known him.
And that was something Zayne intentionally made sure of; alcohol was not something he indulged in, ever.
Except when you’re so busy socializing all night that he gets unbearably bored, curious, and desperate for your attention.
So that’s how he ended up absolutely plastered off two cocktails. In his defense they were deceptively fruity and sweet, the rims coated in thick crystals of sugar. Truly his kryptonite.
So when Zayne grabs your wrist while you’re talking to a fellow Hunter, spinning you gently to his hard chest, you’re completely taken aback.
“Apologies. Can I steal my girlfriend for a moment?”
Your colleague, standing before the both of you, looks flustered at Zayne’s commanding voice, nodding fervently before he turns to leave. His face is pale, not realizing you’d brought a guest to the banquet, much less a guest that looked as handsome and imposing as Zayne. You whip around, eyebrows raised, to face the surgeon in question.
His face is uncharacteristically red, the tips of his ears burning so adorably bright. The first few buttons of his shirt had been undone, the collar disheveled, like he’d pulled at it until the enclosures gave way. What’s more, the tension that colored his words, alarming and unusual.
“Zayne? What’s wrong?” you reach up to touch his cheek worriedly, gasping at how warm his normally chilly skin was, “Are you not feeling well?”
Zayne releases your wrist, instead capturing your hand on his jaw with his own palm, pressing you deeper into his cheek. He practically purrs into your touch, nuzzling into your hand warmly.
“You feel nice.” His voice is low, almost a rough whisper against the cheerful laughter of the night.
It was very unlike Zayne to be so blatant with his affections, especially in front of either of your colleagues. In this case, the packed banquet hall of UNICORN’s annual Hunter’s banquet, filled with curious and nosy onlookers, peering at the two of you embracing in the middle of the party.
Perhaps the bustling activity became too overwhelming for Zayne, especially given that you had been pulled every which way to discuss your recent mission successes. You’d hardly had a chance to make sure he was doing okay.
“Did you want to leave? I can —”
Zayne pulls you closer to him until your bodies are pressed together tightly, his slender fingers holding your waist in place. You squeak in surprise, blushing as you try to ignore the prying eyes of your colleagues as Zayne strokes your cheek, fingers playing with your loose strands of hair.
“Who was that?” Zayne’s voice is deceptively calm against the top of your head as he breathes in your familiar scent, masking the demand and restraint lurking just below the surface. Your pheromones calm him down slightly, making him feel much more at ease.
“Who was who?”
Zayne bends down to reach your ear, his normally calm and stoic voice much more shaky than usual, “That man, who was making you laugh. He seemed friendly.”
Zayne’s words tickle your ear, making you shiver. It’s then you can smell the alcohol on him, as he leans down to whisper in your ear, the bitter scent of vodka mixing with the faint smell of his cologne. Suddenly the questions of his irregular behavior clicked.
You lean back to look at him in shock, “Zayne?! Are you drunk?”
Zayne looks sheepish, his hazel eyes still intense, “No. I don’t – hic – don’t think so.”
You want to laugh at his incriminating hiccup, the surgeon undoubtedly intoxicated. That fact is only confirmed to you when you tip-toe up to peck his lips and taste the bittersweet trace of alcohol on him.
“You were so busy, I got curious and decided to...indulge. Just this once,” Zayne admits, his eyes never leaving yours as he holds you close.
You don’t speak, in shock at the way his words are slightly whiny and sulky all at once, something you never heard from Zayne. Zayne was never one to be jealous, and much less to actually show that jealousy.
Zayne’s eyes lower, glowing at you in a soft regret, “I’m sorry.”
You giggle, resting your head on his chest, arms wrapping around his waist. For that brief moment, you forget all about the watchful eyes around you, only able to focus on the man you loved before you.
“How many drinks did you have?”
He pauses, looking genuinely deep in thought as he tries to recall the night, “Two, no…maybe three.”
You grin wordlessly. Zayne never drank, so he was undoubtedly a lightweight, that was no surprise. But you would’ve thought it would take more than three drinks to knock the formidable man off his ass.
Zayne’s jaw clenched as he admires how beautiful you look tonight, his wandering alcohol-fueled desires pushing him to want to see much more, “Would it be alright if we called it a night?”
You nod, peering up at him, “Of course, are you not feeling well from the alcohol?”
Zayne averts his eyes, clearing his throat. His neck bobs against his undone collar, his tie hanging loosely around his chest.
“I’m alright. I just…want to be alone with you.”
By the time you arrived at your apartment, Zayne had gotten considerably more drunk, the alcohol being further absorbed into his bloodstream.
You hurriedly bring him a cool glass of water, standing in between his thighs, over his limp body. Zayne’s head is thrown back against the cushion of your couch, already having yanked off his suit jacket and tie, the articles of clothing strewn over the arm of the seat, his neck and collar exposed. His snowy pale skin is splotched red, practically radiating a wave of heat.
Your fingers cup his sharp jaw, tilting his chin up, shifting to hold his heavy head in the palm of your hand, stroking his cheek lovingly. Zayne’s eyes flicker up to yours as you tilt him up, his glasses slightly fogged up from the heated crimson flush on his cheeks. His eyes light up when they meet yours, his eyelashes fluttering as he fights to keep his eyes open. You bite your lip, trying to keep your wide smile at bay. He looked so utterly adorable like this, looking up so affectionately obedient like this.
You bring the glass gently up to his lips, encouraging him to drink. Zayne obeys, lips latching onto the edge of the cup as you tilt it forward, gently nudging his chin upwards with your other hand.
His eyes flutter open at the feeling of your touch, his golden emerald irises trained solely on you as he drinks, refusing to look away. He’s so focussed on you that dribbles of water stream down his chin as he gulps down the entire glass, falling onto his collar.
His eyes never leave yours as he chugs the entire glass of refreshing water, the whites of his eyes shining in the dim lighting of your apartment. If anyone else saw the way Zayne looked at you, they’d swear they could see hearts reflected in them as he drank from your hands. He looked at you as if his entire world spun around you, the center of his universe.
When you pull away, Zayne’s eyes still don’t leave yours. Instead, they appear to become more intense, more fiery.
“Zayne? Do you want more water?”
He doesn’t answer. You’re too distracted by the incensed pools of peridot when Zayne yanks you onto his lap, lips capturing yours hungrily.
–
“Ngh – Zayne!” you moan, pulling away from his demanding and bruising lips. Zayne grants you a brief break to breathe, but his fingers firmly hold your hips in place atop his erection that strains against his buckled pants, the two of you nestled deep into the couch cushion.
He gives you a second before he’s yanking your chin towards him again, soft mouth crushed against yours in an instant. Your lips are captured gently between his teeth, his hunger for you insatiable. The taste of alcohol is still faint on his tongue, and he wants nothing more than to overwhelm himself with the taste of you.
You’re completely engulfed by him, the ferocity of his mouth against yours, the warmth of his breath against your tongue. Zayne’s jaw alternates, side to side, trying to give himself the best access to you he can possibly get. The cool touch of metal grazes against your cheeks, his glasses pressing against you in the vigor of his embrace. He groans in frustration into your mouth, forcing himself to briefly pull away.
Before you can even question him, he’s yanking his misted up glasses off by the temples, tossing them onto your coffee table without a second glance, without a single care. His eyes are hooded with desire, his glasses no longer obstructing you from him. They shut sensually when he leans back in, lips parting as his glasses clatter louding against the table.
He says nothing, smashing his lips into yours once again. You can vaguely feel the distinct bump of his nose, pressing into your skin, when he grabs the back of your head, pulling you harder against his all consuming hunger.
His tongue is unbelievably tender against yours, despite how urgently and desperately he devours you. His fingers press into the divots of your arched back, his arms are completely wrapped around you, bringing you into an affectionate embrace as he continues to consume you whole. His fingers stroke up and down the half exposed expanse of your back, enjoying how soft you feel against his big hands.
You grind down onto his cock as you try and match his passion, your panties sticking to your soaked folds. Your thighs are spread so widely against his legs, that the dampness smears against his dress pants, your dress doing little to hold anything back.
Zayne hisses at the delicious pressure, lips leaving yours to gasp into your ear, his hot breath caressing the sensitive skin.
“D-Don’t,” he gulps deeply, alcohol and anticipation making him trip over his words, “Unless you're willing to take responsibility for the consequences.”
You shiver at his words, leaning in to kiss his reddened earlobe, “And if I am?”
And that’s how you find yourself naked, sweaty, and writhing on your back, under the pressure of Zayne’s half naked body on top of you, his cock ravaging every inch of your poor cunt.
Zayne is a mumbling and moaning mess above you, droplets of sweat beading on his bright red temples, his damp hair dangling below his forehead. His unbuttoned dress shirt flies wildly, his thick muscles twitching every time his lower half drives into you like a madman. If it weren’t for the sweat lining your back, you’d undoubtedly be pushed around the couch like a ragdoll under Zayne’s furious passion.
You can barely see Zayne’s eyes, his dangling bangs obscuring much of his frantic face. You do your best to sit up, your chin on your chest, watching the way Zayne’s glistening body jackhammers into you, his rhythm erratic and desperate.
Trying not to drool, you watch his abdominal muscles twitch, his briefs and dress pants hanging off his hips. He’d been so eager to bury himself inside of you that he didn’t even take off his clothing, instead pulling his cock out from under the top of the waistband of his briefs. It’s so heavy and thick with excitement that the restraint of his brief’s waistband is no match for it.
“M’sorry,” Zayne mumbles, so slurred you barely even hear it through the clinking of his undone belt, hanging off his waist.
“Wh-what?” you pant, tugging at the sweat-soaked shirt that clings to his back.
“Didn’t mean to get so intoxicated,” he pants breathlessly, almost sounding guilty, “I’m sorry.”
Your heart clenches at the vulnerability shining in his eyes. You know he’s not used to letting himself feel his emotions like this, to really give into his needs and desires.
“Zayne, don’t apologize,” you whimper through the pleasure, stroking his cheek, “You’re allowed to let go sometimes.”
Your words nearly make Zayne snarl, his pelvis slapping into your ass, his hands elevating hips, your thighs wrapped tightly into his sides.
“You’re so good to me,” he rasps, eyes rolling back as his praises make your body instinctively clench down, “I–I love you.”
“A-ahh nghn – love you s’much Zayne,” you squeal as he thrusts even deeper into you, his confession only increasing the passion he feels for you in the drunken moment.
You’re surprised when you feel his damp hair pressing against your forehead, his cool lips brushing a soft kiss onto it, deceptively gentle compared to the way he ravages your wet heat.
“M’always thinking about you,” Zayne moans, voice muffled as he kisses your forehead over and over, unable to keep his lips, his hands, off of you.
“I think about y’too Za–ayne,” you pant, trying to focus on forming coherent words through the shape of his erection being molded into your core. You knew just how vulnerable the fog of alcohol had made Zayne and wanted more than anything to reassure him.
But his cock stretching you out, nearly the width of a clenched fist, made that so difficult.
“You looked – you look ravishing tonight,” he slurs, kissing down your cheek and onto your neck, “Had a hard time tonight, watching you – hic – be the most beautiful girl in the room.”
Your chest flutters and you blush, clenching onto him, “H-Hardly.”
Zayne’s eyebrows furrow, giving you a pointed thrust, making your breasts jiggle at the force, “Look at what you do to me.”
His fingers cup your breast forcefully, squeezing down on your poor nipple, “You know I’m not one for jealousy…”
“But even I am not immune when you look like that, giving everyone but me your attention.”
“Sorry, my love,” you murmur, trying your best to speak through his frantic thrusts, “You know you’re the one I come home to at the end of the day.”
Zayne’s eyes darken with satisfaction, his fingers twirling your nipple in between them, “I suppose. But does that give you the right to let men flirt with you shamelessly all night?”
“Zayne, they weren’t —” But apparently protesting was a mistake, because Zayne only starts to hammer into you harder.
“They were,” he growls drunkenly, letting his emotions take control for a split second, “But I can’t really blame them, not when you look like this. Not when you feel this perfect around me.”
You whine at his words, his simultaneous threats and praises making it impossible for you to think straight.
“I-I’m soorry,” you find yourself apologizing, wanting to please Zayne, “Won’t do it again, I’ll b-be good!”
“No need to – hah – apologize, my love,” Zayne groans, “Not when I plan on reminding you exactly who you belong to tonight, all night.”
Your body convulses around him, knowing just how much stamina Zayne has, just how serious his slurred words are. Zayne’s hips falter, his body buckling into you.
“You’re s-oo tight,” he groans brokenly, letting his head fall down to your chest, “All for me, right?
“Allll f’you! Only you!” you cry, your fingers gripping onto the back of his shirt when his teeth close over your nipple, nibbling gently. You claw at his back, desperately wanting to be able to touch his bare skin, but his white dress shirt is in the way.
“That’s my girl,” he moans, words muffled by the way his tongue circles around your hardened peaks, suckling like he was trying to find the antidote to intoxication, “So good for me.”
As his thrusts grow sloppier, you know he’s coming close to his end. But you’re surprised when he pulls out suddenly, leaving you feeling empty.
“W-Why?” you demand, leaning up on your elbows in protest. Your eyes widen, almost salivating, when you see the way Zayne is gripping the base of his cock, the thick head red, angry, and ready to burst. He curses, forcing himself to take deep breaths, desperately trying to hold his orgasm back. He was learning that alcohol significantly decreased his normally endless supply of stamina.
“Don’t want to – ngh – finish yet,” he pants, hooking his arm under your back and flipping you over so that your back faces him, your hips arched slightly off the couch. He quickly takes off his pants that are pooled by his knees, his briefs still clinging to his muscled thighs.
You squeak in surprise when you feel the wet smack of Zayne’s cock against your ass, the surgeon hissing at the painful yet arousing sensation. The sting helps to keep him from exploding right onto your beautiful body.
“Ngh – Zaaayne!” you squeal when Zayne shoves himself back into you, parting your cheeks to give himself better access. You claw at your couch as he picks up his speed, rhythm still unsteady.
“I’m sorry,” Zayne apologizes, his words bordering on frenzied babbles as he pounds into you, his heavyset balls slapping against your clit, “M’sorry, love. Let me make it better.”
He leans down, pressing a trail of kisses down your spine, his pelvis rippling against your rear. His veiny forearms cage you into the couch, his foot lifting to step onto the cushion, right by your waist. With his leg raising as leverage, he can truly jackhammer into you.
Zayne goes absolutely feral in this position, his fingers coming up to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging gently as he bounces up and down on your ass. The sounds of skin against skin, drunken moans, and moist squelches resounds like a symphony in the early morning lighting of your apartment.
His grasp tightens in your hair, his other hand kneading the plush of your ass as it ripples against his thrusts. His voice lowers, throwing his head back with a moan, “Been waiting all night to have you like this.”
“Oh-oh God!” you cry when he thrusts into you, particularly hard and deep, making you see stars, “Zayne I-I can’t – I’m so close!”
Zayne hoists you onto all fours, gently lifting your upper body by your neck so that you’re pressed firmly against him with your knees holding you up. He kneels behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist while the other secures your neck against his chest.
“Me too, angel,” Zayne pants into your ear, his breath hot and moist. You can feel the truth in his words, his thighs shaky against yours, his thrusts erratic.
“Please, let me cum in you,” Zayne rasps.
“When have I ever denied you?” you respond. Zayne came inside you nearly every time you two were intimate, ever since you’d started birth control.
“It’s a waste, if it’s not inside you,” Zayne slurs, “You’ll take it, right?”
When you don’t respond, too wrapped up in the bliss of it all, Zayne’s hand descends to pinch your nipple. The power of his thrusts, the tease of his hands, his aura. He commands authority,
“Tell me you’ll take it all, for me.”
“I will, I will! P-please Zayne, give it to me!”
Zayne groans, grip tightening against your body, hugging you for dear life, “That’s my girl, that’s it, just like that.
Zayne has always been vocal, but his drunken ramblings have taken it to another level. You clench down, ready to come undone to the sound of his filthy praises.
Zayne is close behind you, hands kneading your breasts, balls slapping against your clit, “It’s coming Y/N, take it. Take it for me, please.”
You scream in response, cunt spasming around the last of his messy ruts. Zayne’s own strangled groans mix with the sound of wet flesh slapping against each other. You can feel every beautiful ribbon of white hot cum painting your insides, coating every inch of your waiting womb.
Zayne’s skin often felt ice-cold, but his cum always came out so hot and heedy. And now, with the flush of alcohol still clouding his circulation, his milky ropes of seed nearly made you feverish.
Zayne slumps against you, his body spent, drained bone-dry. The weight of him against your quivering muscles is too much, and your thighs give out, sending you crashing into the couch. He catches you before you can slam face-first into the carpeted floor.
He sets your limp body gently into the couch, shrugging off his white button-up.
“Zayne,” you murmur groggily, savoring the image of his muscles peaking through his open shirt, “Come cuddle.”
The corner of his lip twitches, “I will, sweetheart. Let me clean you up first.”
Using the clean inside of his shirt, he carefully wipes off the slick that collects at your inner thighs, before it can pool onto the couch. Your legs are putty in his hands, Zayne cleaning you with the utmost care and tenderness.
When he’s done, he settles beside you on the couch, shifting you so that your neck rests on his forearm. He holds you close with one arm, the other drawing lazy circles into your stomach.
Zayne turns his head to the side, pressing a kiss into your temple, “Thank you. For taking care of me tonight.”
You can tell by Zayne’s calm and steady tone that he’s sobered up quite a bit from the orgasm, the control returning to his deep timbre.
You giggle, nuzzling deeper into his arm, the hairs of his underarm tickling your shoulder, “I hardly did anything.” In the comfortable silence, your eyes start to flutter closed.
“You did more than you know,” Zayne whispers, the tender smile in his voice unmistakeable. You simply nod, muttering incoherently as you fall into a deep and sated slumber.
“You are everything.”
━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.9k
━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, car sex, publix sex/slight voyeurism, sex while pulled over in da passenger seat, bottom raf, riding, face sitting, rafayel is a MUNCH, oral f!receiving, jealous raf, drunk rafayel, protective rafayel, somewhat mentions of violence, unprotected sex, no pull out ever
The night road ahead of you is peacefully calm, the drive back to Rafayel’s house a peaceful and scenic trip. There's very few cars beside yours, well Rafayel’s, on the main roads back, likely because it was close to 2am.
You were honestly having way too much fun driving Rafayel’s car, thoroughly enjoying the purr of the beautiful Benz. You didn’t have the opportunity to drive many cars, let alone a Gran Turismo.
Your fingers tap gently along the rim of the steering wheel, admiring the elegant LED lights that kept you awake. Rafayel had the car’s interior lights set to a blushed lavender color, ever since you’d said it was your favorite setting. It reminded you of the pink in his cotton candy eyes.
Your eyes flicker to your right, briefly checking on Rafayel as he groans beside you in the passenger seat.
He sat with his arm propped up against the passenger side window, his head resting on his palm. His breathing was still shallow, his eyes closed in a restless and light sleep. The alcohol was no doubt making it difficult for him to rest.
You sigh to yourself, trying to think back to how the night had ended disastrously with him so damn drunk.
Rafayel had invited you as his date to one of his endless art exhibits, a few cities over from your home. Only this one was special.
When they’d unveiled his starring piece, a beautiful oil painting on a massive canvas that nearly reached the ceiling, you nearly fell to your knees.
Because Rafayel had painted the most exquisite portrait of you.
You, surrounded in ribbons of coral and seaweed, the most colorful globs of intricate paint surrounding you, a mosaic of sea glass. You, dancing in the endless sea of pastel turquoise. You, in Lemuria. His home.
Rafayel had painted you countless times before, you were his muse after all. Even if he never admitted that openly to you. But this was different, he’d never so openly shared you with this world before. Never wanted to open himself up like this, to anyone, to you.
It was beautiful as it was magnificent. It made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world, more gorgeous than you’d ever felt in your entire life. The way he’d put paint to canvas and created literal magic.
It appeared others thought so too. All the patrons attending the gala that night clamored around the oil canvas, press snapping photos, writers grabbing at Rafayel, trying to get anything for their tabloids.
It was nothing out of the norm. You’d become quite used to the glitz, glamor, and madness that came with being his girlfriend.
What was unexpected, was the attention you got, as the subject of the painting.
The people who wanted a piece of you, the stunning woman in Rafyel’s newest piece. Rafayel did his best to keep you comfortable, shooing away the throws of people trying to get even a morsel of anything from you.
“Rafayel. It’s okay. I can handle it,” you give him your best reassuring smile, “Go mingle with your guests, I’ll be fine.”
Rafayel looks reluctant, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, unwilling to let go. Eventually you convince him, with the promise of a reward later if he listened, to go speak to the serious sponsors and buyers that demanded his attention.
“Never should’ve painted that damn thing,” he muttered as he walked off, looking back at you as Thomas dragged him off. He should’ve known sharing you with the world would have driven him insane.
So you spent the rest of the night trying to be as sociable as possible, not wanting to upset any of Rafayel’s guests. After a few hours you finally found a free moment, finding yourself in front of the portrait once again. Most of the people had cleared out, giving you a chance to really admire the masterpiece.
Rafayel was undeniably talented, maybe the most gifted artist in the world, you’d always thought so. But the way he painted you here was more than just art.
It was his heart on a canvas. And his heart, his entire world, was you. Every fiber of his soul, woven together into a tapestry of lustrous colors, each one depicting a different memory.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
You turn your head to the stranger’s voice, coming face to face with a handsome man, clad head to toe in the most luxurious brands. He stands so uncomfortably close to you that you can smell the nauseating cologne wafting off of him. And yet it’s his aura that makes your skin crawl uncomfortably.
He fills in your awkward silence, eyes looking you up and down, “Definitely not as beautiful as the real thing.”
You really don’t know how to respond to the stranger’s boldness, in shock at how forward he’s being. Your relationship with Rafayel was no secret, the paparazzi having photographed the two of you publicly many times. And you’d walked into the gala on Rafayel’s arm.
“Thank you,” you say curtly, offering a small smile, trying to return your attention to the display.
“I’m going to buy it, you know. And then maybe after, I can buy you a drink?” when his hand lands on your bare shoulder you flinch back, ready to resort to your tactical training. The thought of this man buying a portrait of you makes you nauseous.
Before you can give him a piece of your mind, he’s falling backward with a surprised yelp.
“Hands off the art,” an all-too familiar voice snarls, as he stands between you and the man. You’re too shell shocked to realize Rafayel is clearly drunk, his charismatic voice drawling muddily.
“Don’t touch me,” the man snaps, “I bought this piece, I legally own it.” The way he says ‘piece’ makes your blood boil, the misogyny dripping off his words.
Rafayel, drunk as he might be, catches on too. Fire burns in his eyes, matching the heat of his Evol. Thomas isn’t far behind, looking at you with desperation on his face, begging you to help him defuse the situation. Rafayel was spontaneous enough as it was, there was no telling the lengths he’d go to when he was intoxicated, especially when you were involved.
You reach your hand out, grasping Rafayel’s fingers and gently pulling him back towards you.
“He’s not worth it,” you whisper when Rafayel’s head snaps to you, his eyes softening instantly when they land on you. Rafayel spares the man, rubbing his wrist with a grimace, a glance. You wrap your arm around Rafayel’s waist tugging him close to you and trying to lead him out of the nearly empty gala.
Rafayel takes a deep and shaky breath, before nodding slightly. As he turns to leave with you, he glances back to the man and Thomas, his chin raised.
“It’s not for sale.”
“B-But I already wrote the check,” the man blew up, face red with anger and disbelief.
Rafayel smiles, a fake and genuinely terrifying smile, “I don’t care how many checks you write. You’re never looking at her again.”
It’s enough to even send chills down your spine.
With those words, Rafayel exited the gallery with you on his arm, you rubbing soothing circles into his back. It was rare Rafayel got full blown drunk; you’d seen him tipsy numerous times, but he was always careful not to cross the line into completely losing control of his inhibitions.
As he slumped in the passenger seat of his car, he briefly explained just how he found himself so shit-faced.
“Everyone was taking your time,” he slurred, breathing heavily. The alcohol made him bluntly honest, much more so than he’d normally be about something like this.
“Oh, Rafayel…” you giggle, bending over to latch his seatbelt in, “I know, it’s usually you getting the attention, it must have been weird to share it. I’m sorry.”
Rafayel scoffs, his head resting on the window, “S’not why I was upset. I don’t like sharing you.”
You bite your lip to fight the smile that threatens to sneak its way onto your face, “Why didn’t you just come back?”
“Was trying to distract myself. Didn’t want to disappoint you,” he mutters, his eyes closed and his arms folded across his chest as you start the car, “I know you wanted me to talk to the annoying old farts.”
And then he promptly dozed off, like a precious little baby.
You were about 15 minutes from his place when Rafayel stirred awake from the mere feeling of your hand on his thigh. It was far too dark to see the tent growing in his pants, all from your fingers stroking his sensitive thighs, even when he was unconscious.
“Hey,” you murmur softly, giving him a smile when you see the movement in the corner of your eye, “You feeling okay? I have water in my bag.”
“P-Pull over,” Rafayel slurs, still clearly drunk. His eyes are glued to your palm on his leg. Not even he knows why the innocent touch has him so worked up and feral.
“What?!” you exclaim in a mix of disbelief and shock, “We’re so close to home –”
“Pull over,” he urges you again, the strain between his legs growing painful, “Please.”
His urgency makes you nervous, and you quickly find a secluded area you can pull over, turning your hazards on when you do so.
“Do you need to throw up?” you turn to him worriedly, grasping his thigh tighter in your fingers and rubbing soothingly, unsure of what to do.
Rafayel groans at your unknowingly innocent actions, rubbing his hand down his face, which only makes you worry more.
You undo your seatbelt so you can sit on your knees and face him, your hands still rubbing up and down his thighs, hoping to make him feel better.
Rafayel takes that opportunity to undo his own seatbelt, hoisting you out of your seat and onto his lap. You try to muffle your scream as he effortlessly carries you onto his lap, cramped between his body and the front dash. It always surprised you just how powerful Rafayel’s body was despite his toned and slender build.
“Rafayel!” you squeal as he sits you on his lap, “What are you doing?!”
He doesn’t speak, only looking up at you with big wet eyes. He spreads your thighs so that they cage his own legs, his hands resting on your sumptuous hips. Despite his strong and possessive hold, you’re still able to twist around to grab your tote bag, pulling out a plastic water bottle.
“Don’t need to throw up,” he mumbles, looking up at you through his long and dark eyelashes, “Jus’ need you.”
With his hand on your back he pushes you down until your chest is flush with his, capturing your lips in a feverish all-consuming kiss. The bitter and sharp taste of alcohol is still strong on his tongue, his lips impatiently messy and insistent. Rafayel rocks up into you as he loses himself into your embrace, his very clear and prominent erection begging for attention.
“R-Raf!” you pull away, even at his whiny refusal, hands still tugging at the clothing at your hips, “Did you really make me pull over for this?” Your eyes dart around nervously, making sure there’s no cars around you. But it wasn’t necessary, Rafayel’s windows were so tinted that even if you had your nose pressed to the glass you wouldn’t be able to see much.
“Come on, at least drink some water while we’re pulled over,” you untwist the cap of your reusable water bottle.
“No,” Rafayel pouts at you, the rose flecks in his eyes glow as he looks up pleadingly at you, “I don’ want water, wanna kiss you.”
You can’t help but laugh, despite the risky and precarious situation you find yourself in. That situation being Rafayel’s very excited crotch.
“Don’t laugh,” Rafayel broods, his bottom lip jutted out, shiny with a sheen of saliva, “I wanted to be with you all night, ‘specially when everyone was getting your attention.” He presses his chin onto your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your body wash and pressing wet kisses into your neck.
“Wan’ my reward now,” Rafayel slurs, his wandering fingers hooking under the thin strap of your evening dress, slipping it off your shoulders.
“You’re drunk Rafayel,” you reason firmly, even though your body is already betraying you. Your thighs squirm, widening instinctively for him, excitement pooling at the apex of your legs.
“Sooo?” Rafayel’s head fall backs onto the headrest, “Just give me a taste, please?”
You want to keep a level head, deny his insane request, but his hard body against your pliable one makes you desperate for more. Besides…the windows are almost completely blacked out and you were in a very secluded upper-end neighborhood, where all the homes had nearly miles of yard between them.
“Fine…” you concede, “But only if you drink some water.”
Rafayel’s eyes practically radiate, nodding eagerly and raising his lips to the cool bottle. His sudden willingness is comical, and you smile fondly at him as you help him to drink. Rafayel’s fingers squeeze against your waist, your soft skin making him grow thicker and hotter by the second.
His body unconsciously grinds against you as he drinks the water, eyes open wide with a faux innocence, staring right at your heated and flushed cheeks. He’s so focussed on admiring the irresistible look of desire on your face as he relentlessly rocks into you, that he doesn’t even feel the cold streams of water trickling down his shaky chin.
His fingers trace delicate and intricate shapes into your waist, eyes hooded at the feeling of your heat against his throbbing member. His eyes never leave yours as he finishes the last of the water, looking up at you through his thick purple eyelashes. His eyes shine brightly, the pinks in them accentuated by the LEDs of the car, watching you with a vast sea of desire.
Just as you remove the bottle from his lips, Rafayel lowers the angle of the passenger seat, as far down as it can possibly go.
You shriek in panic, clutching onto Rafayel as the chair dips suddenly, limbs flailing wildly. Rafayel takes that opportunity to lift your thighs, hoisting you nearly to the top of the passenger seat until you’re kneeling with his face in between your thighs.
“R-Rafayel!” you yelp, gripping onto the leather backseat for balance, thighs squirming at the feeling of his warm breath fanning against your exposed lips. The slick that had pooled in your panties makes you much more sensitive to his heated pants. Practically dripping onto his face.
“You promised a taste,” he mumbles, all consumed by the way you glisten against the dim indoor lights of his car. He doesn’t let you get another word in before he’s pulling your panties to the side and licking a fat strip up your slit, all the way to your clit.
“Ngh – Raf!” If it weren’t for his strong hands on your thighs you would’ve crushed him with the way your knees buckled and you nearly fell on top of him.
Rafayel doesn’t speak, only a filthy string of wet slurps and strung out moans audible, this tongue writhing against you, positively starved. The way he makes out with your cunt makes your muscles melt, your body nearly melding into the seats.
Rafayel can feel your shaky legs struggling to keep you up and he pulls your hips down, guiding you to sit on his face. In your surprise, you fall completely, a choked sob of bliss ripping from your mouth when Rafayel completely engulfs your weeping cunt into his mouth.
You're a babbling mess of the most lewd cries, your thighs clenching unbearably at the pleasure Rafayel’s tongue forces into you. You try not to put too much weight on Rafayel, but he only pushes you down, wanting you to crush his skull.
“Tastes so sweet,” Rafayel moans into you, the vibrations of his praises reverberating through every single one of your nerve endings. As he eats you with a relentless excitement, his eager nose strokes along your folds, gathering your arousal with every stroke.
“And it’s all for me,” he whines in the most pussy drunken voice you’ve ever heard from him, likely from the heavy intoxication, “No one else's, just mine.”
You can tell he’s still reeling from the encounter at the gala, with the man who’d wanted to buy the piece he’d painted for you. Just reassuring himself of things he already knew to be fact.
“And you’re mine,” you gasp through the sparks in your vision, wrought with pleasure. You do your best to keep your nails out of the expensive leather upholstery, tearing at Rafayel’s skin instead.
He grunts with the sting of your scratches, the pain fueling his excitement, which he funnels into the way he devours you, slurping up every single drop that pools down your lips.
With one hand on your thigh, he palms himself through his dress pants, jerking furiously.
It isn’t long before he yanks you away with a desperate gasp, carrying you back down onto his lap, “Need to be inside you now, ‘kay?”
The ears ring with the whiplash, the pleasure being yanked away suddenly, staring at Rafayel with dumbfounded wide eyes. You barely register when he takes his bare cock out, rubbing it up and down your absolutely drenched folds, your dress bunched to your waist.
He holds himself firm in his fingers by the base, squeezing down as he rubs up and down your glistening slit, peering up at your rosy cheeks.
“Baby?” he huffs, sounding faraway, “Can I?”
You barely even register your nod, your body moving on its own volition. Rafayel grins, lining himself up and not wasting another second before sinking himself into you, his favorite place in the entire world.
Your face is stuck in a perpetual oh as Rafayel sinks all the way into you, his veins especially prominent in his intoxication. You can almost feel them throbbing as they squeeze against your tight walls, his hips flattering when he feels himself hit the soft walls of your g-spot.
“Ngh – I love you, Y/N,” Rafayel moans, his arms coming up to wrap around your back, pulling you tightly against his torso.
You nuzzle your head into Rafayel’s chest, needing the support as he starts to rock into you, bouncing your body off his lap with the strength of his thighs.
“O-Oh God,” you whimper into his chest, letting him man handle you against himself, too overwhelmed by the way he’d made you feel with his tongue, and now his cock.
‘J-Jus’ like that, baby,” Rafayel mewls into the crown of your head, taking in deep lungfuls of your scent. His arms are wrapped so tightly around you that you almost can’t breathe, but you only want him to hold you harder, tighter.
You can’t even be bothered to care that you’re fucking in such a public area, the risk of getting caught just a faraway thought. The only thing you can find yourself caring about is the way Rafayel drives deeper into your guts, forcing you to look at him as he buries himself into you.
“Hah – pretty girl,” he breathes out, his body slowing. You realize the alcohol must be making him tired, and you force your weight onto your knees.
“L-Let me, Raf,” you whisper, sitting up as much as you can until your head brushes against the car roof. Rafayel watches you with wondrous eyes as you begin to ride him.
“Oo-oh shiit,” he groans, mesmerized by the way you roll your body into him, “You're so perfect, Y/N. Just like that, please don’t s-stop.”
You whimper, biting your lip and trying to control the way his cock has your body screaming for release. You lean back onto his knees, one hand grappling at the window for leverage, the other cupping his balls.
Your hand is met with the wet condensation of the frosted window, the mixture of yours and Rafayel’s torrid breaths fogging up the interior completely. It’s such a sensual sight that you clench down on Rafayel, thinking about the passion of this moment, in the confined space of his favorite car.
Rafayel lets out the most delicious string of moans and expletives as you gently massage his balls in your fingers, fondling them delicately, “Oh God, that feels so good, you feel – angh – amazing.”
You throw all your energy into rolling your hips against Rafayel’s pelvis, wanting to use him until you were utterly spent.
“So big Raf,” you wail, struggling to keep up a rhythm as his size splits you in half, “I-I’m soo clo-ose.”
“Fuuck, me too,” Rafayel grunts, his neck craning back, back arching slightly at the way you ride him so filthily, “Don’t stop, I’m almost – ngh – there.”
His lewd words are your last straw, your hips stuttering as your cunt coils tightly around his length, your body orgasming so intensely through your tightly shut eyes. You desperately hope no one is nearby, because the muffled screams coming from the inside of the car were sure to be audible.
“You love me, right?” Rafayel slurs, his eyes wet and on the verge of coming undone, needing your words to be the final push.
“I love you Raf,” you gasp brokenly, still bouncing on his lap, “Soo-oo much!”
Your vice grip on him has Rafayel seeing stars of his own, the blinding pleasure signaling his own release. As he cums, he brings you back to his chest in a heated embrace, babbling into your mussed hair.
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” comes his strangled mantra, the words overflowing from his wet puffy lips, “My Queen.”
You whimper as Rafayel fills you with rope after rope of his hot seed, it already beginning to seep out of your hole and down his still hard length. He gives you everything he has, the soul nearly being sucked out his body through his cockhead.
Rafayel digs his nails into your back as you overstimulate him with your languid thrusts, urging you to stop.
“N-No more,” he whines, holding you in place, “You’re trying to kill me.”
You still your hips with a chuckle, listening to his rapidly pounding heart, “I would never.”
Rafayel strokes your hair, holding you against his body, his cock softening and slipping out of you. You wince at the feeling of how much dampness leaks out of you, sitting up and trying to cup yourself so it doesn’t leak all over Rafayel’s seats.
But Rafayel holds you back down, “No. Stay.”
“Rafayel, it's going to ruin the seats!”
“I don’t care,” he mumbles, his voice still sluggish from the alcohol, nuzzling his face into your chest as he hugs you to keep you from moving.
“You care, you love this car. I love this car,” you whine, trying to pull away and keep the slick from spilling everywhere, but he doesn’t relent.
“Just say you love the car more than me,” he sulks, his bottom lip protruding.
You glare at him, before deciding to tease him and play along, “I love the car more than y–”
Rafayel covers your mouth with his hand, squinting at you, “If you finish that sentence I’ll scream.”
.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.
✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.
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