Silverfoundry

D&D, gaming

[art-by-ady]

TWIN FLAMES TEASER

It's official! Inspired by this piece.

First chapters will be published this weekend on AO3. Will post links on here and on my socials.

Thank you @soldiershunterswitchesandroyals for collaborating with me!

Read the teaser below the cut:

Sylus never heard an answer to that question, instead he heard another “Is there someone that can get close to Sylus?” How the boy asked the question threw Sylus off balance. If he had been walking he would have stumbled in surprise hearing the tone. It almost sounded like concern or worry for him. But that couldn’t be. Who would dare worry about him besides one person?

As he was thinking this he heard both voices reply in unions “No one.” And this time he could hear the pity in their voices. And when he would later review the footage he would see it as well.

“No one deserves a lonesome tedious life.”

“True but if we kill him he won’t have to worry about that.” That was the last thing Sylus heard them say before they left.

Sylus stood there for a while reviewing everything Mephisto had compiled. After he was finished doing so, he couldn’t help but huff a laugh as his lips curved up into a capricious smile “How bold. Two fearless young boys still daring to take my life after what they have seen.”

He couldn’t help but be reminded of a certain sorceress and her many attempts to try to take his life when they first met. And oh the rush, the entertainment it had brought into his dull existence. Perhaps that was why he said “Well I suppose, it wouldn’t hurt to play with them for a while. They are children after all.”

Notes: In my country there is a superstition. When you see a dark colored butterfly or moth when a loved one just passed away means that butterfly/moth is the soul of the deceased, visiting you.

[tanuki-kimono]

Other formal outfits of Heian ancestry - Kariginu, Hoi and Nôshi attires

(as worn by samurai of the Edo period - great charts by Nadeshico Rin). You can find more about samurai ranks and their regulated attires under the tag "samurai kimono".

The Kariginu

狩衣 Kariginu first appeared during Heian period where they were informal attires worn by kuge (nobibilty) men for activities such as hunting and 蹴鞠 kemari ball games.

Kariginu rose to formal status during Kamakura period when it started being worn by the buke (warrior class). In Edo period, it was worn by upper-ranked samurai (4th rank and above).

Edo-period kariginu designates a patterned clothing (different from the hoi, see below), often decorated with the family 紋 mon (crest). Colors were not regulated.

風折烏帽子 Kazaori-eboshi - black-lacquered hat made of silk, cloth or paper, originally worn by Heian nobility. Many eboshi shapes exist, this one is a upright style (tate-eboshi 立烏帽子) with top folded to the left.

末広 Suehiro - a type of formal folding fan. TN: the fan drawn here ressemble more a 中啓 chûkei, as suehiro have curving ribs which don't seems to be the case here (find more about fan types here)

指貫 sashinuki (or 奴袴 nubakama) - large bouffant pants. Also, note the bare feet! Rin doesn't comment this but this was probably a way to put it below sokutai and ikan (which do have socks)

袖括 Sodekukuri - decorative sleeve ties. Originally appeared on Heian clothings (like kariginu, nôshi, etc) where they were used to tighten sleeve cuffs.

The Hoi

布衣 Hoi is a variation of 狩衣 kariginu (see above).

During Edo period, it was worn by some hatamoto (6th rank samurai) via explicit permission of the shogunate - setting those rewarded by this honor apart from other vassals of the same rank.

Compared to kariginu, hoi were plain solid color.

It is worn here over a 熨斗目 noshime, a samurai kosode (=ancestor of the kimono) with stripes or lattice pattern at waist area.

As for the kariginu, note the bare feet!

The Nôshi

直衣 Nôshi was a type of everyday robes which were first worn by males of the imperial family during Heian era. Formality placed it then above kariginu.

Overtime, their use spread among nobility, and by Edo period, they were a "tad-formal" attire worn by Shogun's family for worship celebrations.

立烏帽子 Tate-eboshi - upright lacquered hat

袍 Hô - round-necked robe with large boxy sleeves

檜扇 hiôgi - formal folding fan made of cypress, also of Heian history. Those were unpatterned as painted ones were for women

指貫 Sashinuki (or 奴袴 nubakama) - large bouffant pants

[tanuki-kimono]

Formal outfits for upper ranks samurai & Most formal for lesser ranks samurai - Hitatare, Daimon and Suô court dress,

(as worn by samurai of the Edo period - great charts by Nadeshico Rin). You can find more about samurai ranks and their regulated attires under the tag "samurai kimono".

The Hitatare

直垂 Hitatare first appeared as an attire worn by lower class warriors. As buke (warrior class) rose into status, it was slowy established as a formal garb for samurai during Kamakura period.

In Edo period, hitatare was the most formal attire worn by samurai of the 3rd rank and above. Fabrics used were luxurious, such as 精好織 seigo-ori (a type of textured silk, also used for Shinto priest clothing nowadays).

風折烏帽子 Kazaori-eboshi - black-lacquered hat made of silk, cloth or paper, originally worn by Heian nobility. Many eboshi shapes exist, this one is a upright style (tate-eboshi 立烏帽子) with top folded to the left.

袴 Hakama - formal pants, more exactly 長袴 nagabakama trailing pants

小さ刀 Chîsagatana - a small decorative katana

胸紐 Munahimo - chest ties​, first appeared on Heian nobility clothes

菊綴 Kikutoji - decorative tassel-like knots, first appeared on Heian nobility clothes

袖括 Sodekukuri - decorative sleeve ties. Originally appeared on Heian clothings (like kariginu, nôshi, etc) where they were used to tighten sleeve cuffs. Later types like the tiny ones above are purely decorative.

The Daimon

The 大紋 daimon is a specific hitatare set patterned with large 紋 mon (clan/family crests). It was worn by fifth court rank samurai (rank of the daimyô lords for example).

It was put over a 熨斗目 noshime, a type of kosode (=ancestor of the kimono) worn by samurai, with stripes or lattice pattern around waist area.

The Suô

The 素襖 Suô, also a variation of the hitatare, was the ceremonial dress of the lower-ranked samurai. Via explicit permission of the shogunate, some samurai could be granted the right to wear 布衣 hoi (a type of kariginu).

It looked very similar to daimon set, but showed fewer crests of much smaller size. The hat was also different as they wore one called a 侍烏帽子 samurai eboshi.

[sunsetagain]

Home.

[purple-plum-petals]

Compilation/Masterlist of Official Information for The Freak Circus

I don't know if anyone has done this yet, but I wanted to put together a masterlist of the asks answered and posts made by @nekoboydreams regarding their game The Freak Circus!

I organized the posts by whether they had something to do with game development, or if they were related to the lore or characters. I'm planning on continuing to add links as posts are made, so this will be updated frequently! I'm going to organize them better as soon as all the posts are linked, but that may take a little while, so I apologize for the mess. 😅

I decided to do this because, as someone who loves consuming lore and understanding the characters as much as possible before writing them, it's a lot easier to find the posts in this format – I did it for myself, but wanted to share it with the people and do my due diligence. 🫡

There are quite a lot of posts to go through, so this list is not up-to-date quite yet (as of 08/08), but I will continue working on it in my free time! I'm currently up to the first post of June 24th.

★ Posts Regarding Game Development:

Pierrot Concept Sketches and CG Artwork (June 6th)

Pierrot Expressions (June 8th)

Is the story based on commedia dell'arte? (June 13th)

Game Release Link (June 15th)

Question Regarding Translating the Game into Another Language (June 16th) - [2]

Post Thanking Supporters/Asking Questions (June 17th)

Will the Official Game Have Pronoun Options? (June 17th)

Will There be Intimate Scenes in the Game? (June 18th)

Can We Write Fanfictions? (June 18th) - [2]

Update on Game Progress/Official Merch (June 20th)

Is the Creator Comfortable with 18+ Questions? (June 20th)

How Long Did it Take to Develop the Game? (June 20th)

Is the Game Going to Have 18+ Scenes? (June 20th)

Pierrot's Show OST (June 20th)

Will Other Characters Have Their Own Routes and Endings? (June 21st)

Reuploading/Reposting Game Policy (June 22nd)

Inspiration for Designing Pierrot (June 22nd)

Will There Be an Ending where the MC Ends up with Both Pierrot and Harlequin? (June 23rd)

★ Posts Regarding Characters/Lore:

Pierrot and Harlequin Having Different Intensities (June 11th)

Pierrot and Harlequin CGs/Differences in Character (June 12th)

Pierrot and Harlequin Fighting Over MC (June 13th)

History Between Pierrot and Harlequin/Lore on the Love Triangle Between Pierrot, Harlequin, and Columbina (June 14th)

Pierrot and Harlequin Character Sketches (June 14th)

Why did Pierrot fall for the MC so quickly?/Lore About the "Angel's" Death (June 15th)

Information About Pierrot's Character/If There Will Be Other Characters in the Game (June 16th)

Information About the Pink Tent/Ticket (June 16th)

Pierrot's Height (June 16th)

Do the members of the Circus Have Casual Attire? (June 17th)

Canon Character Sexualities (June 17th)

Pierrot and Harlequin Heights/Are They Monsters from the Story?/Why Does Harlequin Become Interested in the MC/Lore about the Pink Tickets (June 17th)

Pierrot Getting Ready to Kick Harlequin's Ass (June 17th)

Pierrot Canonically Gets Shy Very Quickly/Easily (June 17th)

What Does the Carnival Food do to the MC's Mind? (June 17th)

Pierrot Would Never Let the MC into the Pink Tent if You Have His Affection (June 17th)

Pierrot and Harlequin with an MC Who Has Never Been to a Circus Before (June 18th)

Did Pierrot Use Paint or Blood to Color the Paper Rose? (June 18th)

Jester's Reaction to Harlequin Telling Him About the MC (June 18th)

Was Pierrot Obsessed with Columbina? (June 18th)

Who is the Unknown Person who Gave MC the Pink Ticket?/Identity of the Mysterious Stranger (June 18th) - [2]

Is There Any Other Specialty Offered by the Tickets Other Than Front Row Seating? (June 18th)

Why is the Circus Called "The Freak Circus"? (June 19th)

Information About Harlequin's Personality, Symbol, and Tongue Shape (June 19th)

Pierrot's Reaction to MC Wanting to Live with Him at the Circus (June 19th)

Who Chose Each Member's Role in the Circus? (June 19th)

Can Pierrot and Harlequin Get Someone Pregnant?+How Would They be as Dads?/Why Can't Pierrot Talk in Public? (June 19th)

Can Pierrot Handle Being Teased? (June 19th)

Do Harlequin and Pierrot Have Favorite Foods? (June 19th)

How Human Are the Circus Members?/Information About Pins/Information About the Food Stalls (June 19th) - [Pins as a Form of Competition]

Pierrot is Always Watching and Observing (June 19th)

Do the Characters Have Birthdays?/Is Harlequin's Story Related to the Origins of the Circus? (June 20th)

How Would Pierrot Recieve Kisses from a Shorter MC? (June 20th)

Pierrot and Harlequin's Reactions to an MC who is Obsessed with Them (June 20th)

Voice Claims? (June 20th)

Song that Gives off Harlequin Vibes (June 20th)

Pierrot and Harlequin's Favorite Seasons/Potential Endings to the Game (June 20th)

Do Pierrot and Harlequin Have Fursonas? (June 20th)

Do Pierrot and Harlequin Cuss? (June 20th)

How would Pierrot and Harlequin react to the MC only Wearing One Pin instead of both? (June 20th)

Are Pierrot and Harlequin Divorced? (June 20th)

What Would Happen if MC Asked Pierrot on a Date? (June 21st) - [2]

Is there a way to get into the Purple Tent? (June 21st)

What are Pierrot and Harlequin's Favorite Animals? (June 21st)

Was the Woman Killed During Pierrot's Show the Same Woman from the Coffee Shop? (June 21st) - [2]

What Time Period Does the Story Take Place In? (June 21st)

Do Pierrot and Harlequin Have Canonical Ages? (June 21st)

Difference Between When Pierrot Has Pupils vs. When They're Completely Black (June 21st)

Will We See More of Columbina in-game? (June 22nd)

If Pierrot Can Notice the MC's Heartbeat Changing, Would He Use That to His Advantage?/Would Harlequin? (June 22nd)

Pierrot's Thoughts on Nicknames (June 22nd)

Is Pierrot Wearing a Mask? (June 22nd)

Is the MC a Girl? (June 22nd)

Is There an Ending with Harlequin (June 22nd)

Does the Circus Have Animal Attractions? (June 22nd)

Do Pierrot and Harlequin Drink? (June 22nd)

Pierrot's Reaction to MC Hugging Him in Their Sleep (June 22nd)

Pierrot and Harlequin Interaction (June 23rd)

What do the Black Tickets Do? (June 23rd)

Why does the MC's Mouth Taste Funny When they wake up? (June 23rd)

Pierrot's Reaction to the MC in a Clown Costume (June 23rd)

Pierrot's Tongue (June 23rd)

Why Is Pierrot Silent? Does the Circus Have Rules? (June 23rd)

Information on the Pink Tickets+Tent/Where Did Pierrot Learn to Dance? (June 23rd)

Pierrot and Harlequin's Reactions to Their Colors Being MC's Favorite Color+The Color They Wear Most Often (June 23rd)

Characters' Voices/Theories About the Carnival Food/Pierrot with an MC with Self-Destructive Tendencies (June 23rd)

Pierrot and Harlequin's Reactions to MC Wearing Their Clothes/Information Regarding Harlequin's Puppets (June 23rd)

How Would the Characters React to an MC who Used to be a Clown? (June 24th)

[sunsetagain]

Love and Deepspace Sylus: 41 is Coming (Farewell, Boy from Ophiuchus) (part 2)

This comic was inspired by the main storyline Death and Rebirth, and Timelock Key Sylus: Shadowed Past updated in May 2025. All the content not mentioned in the game was my personal headcanon.

Due to Tumblr's new policy one can only post up to 30 pages in each post, so this comic has to be posted as two parts. Check the link below to read part 1.

→ Read Part 1 ←

中文版

[sunsetagain]

Love and Deepspace Sylus: 41 is Coming (Farewell, Boy from Ophiuchus) (part 1)

This comic was inspired by the main storyline Death and Rebirth, and Timelock Key Sylus: Shadowed Past updated in May 2025. All the content not mentioned in the game was my personal headcanon.

Due to Tumblr's new policy one can only post up to 30 pages in each post, so this comic has to be posted as two parts. Check the link below to continue reading part 2.

→ Read part 2 ←

中文版

[secondlina]

Fairyring fans, chime in!

[vgperson]

Ib Endings Guide

So, yes, there are multiple endings in Ib. How do you get them? Well! This guide is extremely spoilery, so do NOT read this if you haven’t beaten the game at least once. Even then, it’s only recommended that you read this if you want to know exactly how to get the other endings and aren’t willing to experiment on your own. Also, it doesn’t include any puzzle hints or anything. So don’t come to it looking for that. (Note that I’m mostly posting this because kouri has major hints on how to get each ending on his site. So it’s kind of what he wants.)

Continua a leggere

[secondlina]

Sometimes, there's too much fork in the way and you forget how to soup.

[secondlina]

Listening to that Kpop Demon Hunters soundtrack mood...

It's the last few days to get the headphone holder I designed with Jace and Judy! Perfect for chunky headphones and other headgear like renfair flower crowns 🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Find it here :

[ https://linktr.ee/secondlina]

[secondlina]

LAST DAY TO GRAB THE BOY!

[HERE]

[cynema]

Megan Fox in Jennifer’s Body, 2009.

[meganfoxaesthetic]

[meganfoxaesthetic]

[jazzaslawyer]

how to show love to a xenomorph. 『 chapter one. 』

ʚɞ xenomorph!sylus x fem!reader (mdni).

INFORMATION !!YOU MUST!! KNOW BEFORE READING: this fic is safe for people who have no clue about the alien movie series. But you also have to keep in mind that all the characters I added, and the small plots happening in this fic are meant to explain (poorly but I tried) the world build of the movies and ALSO to capture its theme. I know a lot of you want direct contact with Sylus from the start (don’t worry, it’s gonna happen a lot in this chapter) but, please, remember that this is a mix between lads and alien. I had to make it this way to also be satisfied as an alien movie series fan.

NO SMUT THIS CHAPTER YOU FREAKS! A lot of plot btw.

!WARNING!WARNING!WARNING!: gore, failed sexual harassment, death, suicide, mutilation, a lot of curse words, descriptions of explicit violence, life threatening situations, sexual suggestiveness (fine, I will feed you a bit), mind games, blood, descriptions of severed body parts.

LOOOOOOOOOOONG CHAPTER. Idk how many words, I wrote this w my phone on my notes and only edited with my leptop.

Perhaps your shipmate's ripped stomach was the start of all the other consequences that led to a bunch of unskilled, clueless people to find themselves imprisoned in small and metal spaces. Maybe it was the first time you encountered a creature you never imagined could exist. Maybe it was the fascinating way they develop and evolve from an infant to a full grown adult. Maybe it was their high-pitched, terrifying sounds, harmonising with the screams of its victims whose deaths had already been written. It was a fucked up fanfare that made unmistakably clear that you are inferior to them.

At first you weren't even aware that anything had even started. It came like a sudden jolt. The following events were so fast, it felt like some unseen force pressed a button and a grim, living version of a science fiction film started to unfold.

"The XX-121 Xenomorph,” the synthetic person said — his arm mangled with white fluid leaking from it. “It’s an endoparasitoid extraterrestrial species. The perfect organism. I assure you, it is something you have never seen before in any book and data. Their effectiveness in killing, multiplying and the ability to survive in the harshest of conditions is unmatched. Also intelligent beings made to hunt and reproduce fast.” His voice faltered but didn’t fail. “Do you understand how fundamental they are for the human species? They are your ticket to survive anything space has to throw at you, to become the elite species in the universe."

Footsteps began echoing in the distance that day. The footsteps of your colleagues armed and motivated to kill the Synthetic. That's why you received that secret file. He had even slipped it into your mission bag himself without you having much to say in that regard.

"These files are essential. I don't have the time to explain everything. Read them. Study them if you can — that is more preferable. Make sure you escape this planet alive. Forget about your comrades, sacrifice them if necessary. Most importantly, bring this organism alive with you. You are a smart one, you can put two and two together. You must already know how essential it is for evolution. I assure you that you will not only become the salvation of your human species but you will also be generously — so generously compensated. Far beyond anything they promised you for this mission."

They were getting closer. All you could do was swallow hard and allow a chill to run down your spine. You can’t recall what you felt or thought at that moment. How could you? It’s not so easy to remember certain details after you witnessed a massacre straight out of a nightmare. One’s mind refusal to process? Senses that shut down? Still can’t recall. But your awareness definitely returned when the Synthetic spoke its final words.

"Especially to preserve the hybrid. He’s a miracle. His intelligence, ability to learn faster than us. A flabbergasting fusion of human consciousness and Xenomorph instinct. He represents the dream that the Weyland-Yutani Corporation fights for. He is the ideal that you must deliver to our laboratories to study him further, in the name of humanity. He is exceptional down to his smallest breath. He even gave himself a name."

Then came the axe. And the daggers. And a bat. They tore into his back. The white synthetic liquid splattered your uniform, ended up pooling across the cold metal floor. For the first time you saw the threads that held a Synthetic together, a system that kept them functioning. That's why you felt no pity when his back was destroyed, nor when an axe split his forehead like it was a mere piece of a log. He was a machine, a tool crafted and designed by humans, created to serve. You could describe them as smart servants. In the end, he was just put out of commission. Machines like him are replaceable. But you are not. Or the creatures. Especially the so-called precious hybrid with a name.

༺☆༻

Your were born on Jackson's Star. Planet LV-410 of the Alpheios system. A very scenic name for a mining and agriculture colony. A colony owned and operated by the Weyland-Yutani Corporation. “The Corporation”. A terrible place, really. Like every corporate entity that expanded beyond the Milky Way, they exploit every resource they can get their greedy hands on. You are a resource yourself. Human exploitation means nothing when profit stands so tall. Mandatory farming, back-breaking labour, small credit, the possibility of working in the mines brought you closer to the idea of ​​giving up on everything. Although you were raised there, you could never adapt. The feeling of belonging? What’s even that? Let’s not forget about the absence of sunlight. Thick clouds, endless storms, constant thunder — for you, that represented the sky.

That's why you cried when you first saw the sun. The day you were recruited into the search team. It was also the day you learned that the Company that had been working you to death is involved in more areas than just making profit.

A renowned scientist and researcher had vanished along with his ship. His mission, according to official documents, was to study and analyze new lifeforms. At least that was the surface-level story. Then a faint signal was intercepted by the parent company. All that bullshit about classified content, heavily encrypted and urgent. That triggered immediate action — rescue teams dispatched without delay. The problem though? Even with this stupidly advanced technology, the source of the signal couldn’t be pinpointed. Hundreds of spaceships were launched on what was labeled as a “noble” search and rescue mission. They made such a big deal too. Aaaaalll over the news. In truth, the mission made no progress. For months there was no trace of the scientist, his crew or his ship.

The Weyland-Yutani Corporation gave a clear directive, clearly showing desperation: sending teams of volunteers. In short, they were willing to send anyone, no matter how insignificant and unqualified they were. And each volunteer spaceship had an officer and a non-commissioned officer to ensure discipline, supervision, maintain order and the smooth running of the operation. Also making sure that none of the volunteers would try to take advantage of the circumstances to escape from the corporation's control.

There was, of course, a reward: freedom. Freedom from the colony's labor system, big numbers and the possibility of relocating wherever you wanted. So, basically, freedom. Obviously, granted only to those who found the missing ship.

You volunteered as an act of “ultima ratio”, your last resort to escape and change your life. Small chances, possible wasted time and more work that waits for you home — those were your expectations once you witnessed the number of ships prepared for the launch. You traveled with three other ships that were always close (a kind of group trip). Each ship carried ten volunteers. None of you had access to weapons or most of the ship’s sections. Only the officers and their second-in-command enjoyed such privileges.

Repetitive days. Monitoring, preparing meals, listen to commands, cleaning, try not bang your head into a wall challenge. At least it was easier compared to your life on colony.

A signal appeared. “Unidentified planet.”

The officers of all four ships consulted among themselves and made a quiet decision to land without notifying the company. According to artificial intelligence’s analysis, the planet was far too insignificant for a renowned scientist to be there. Why? Sure, there was breathable oxygen but NO life. And apparently that scientist was way too obsessed with undiscovered organisms. So the plan had the following events: land, snap some photos for proof, check for any signals and leave. A routine check to be claimed as “effort”.

You could actually breathe on the planet. Although the air was humid and unpleasant. The landscape was covered with black rocks and caves. Strong winds and gray dust that kept getting in your eyes. A regular Monday for some. It felt like stepping into a volcano without lava and veiled with fog. The moon was a bit visible, unfortunately shrouded by mist that seemed to rise naturally to high altitudes. It might have posed a visual disadvantage, but the planet's sky was not dark. It glowed a pale green, devoid of stars.

One officer noticed a lack of signal beyond the planet. That could also have meant your departure. But another signal appeared instantly. A signal that belonged to the ship you had been sent to find.

Warmth filled your chest, an energy you had never felt before coursed through your body similarly to drinking seven redbulls. Your comrades seemed to share it too. Sweeeet freedom, that’s what you sang along with your fellow crew members. The officers and non-commissioned officers were content with the idea of ​​a promotion, so none of them considered leaving the planet to inform the other search teams. Their ranks, although far superior than yours, meant nothing in such a vast corporation. Naturally, they were determined to take the credit for themselves and show a little greed.

You and two female companions from your Expedition Ship Number 2 — Miranda and Letiția— walked arm in arm, laughing as you moved forward alongside the others. Each of you began to verbalize your future plans that awaited you once you received your reward. Most of them were stupid and funny, but they felt important. Letiția laughed when one man confessed that he just wanted a girlfriend, no matter how ugly and mean she might be, his dream is to drown her in gifts.

The fun was cut short. The memory of that time is still vague. You didn't even hear the thing that leapt on her face. You just stumbled in shock and fell. But you can still picture it in your mind, to this day, Letiția’s body moving disorganizedly. She spun, arms flapping, her screams muffled. Multiple pairs of legs rushed past you. Miranda grabbed your arm to help you up, and that’s when you saw her body collapsing into the ashy ground before the crowd of colleagues blocked your view.

You disconnected. The details of how you reached the target ship—and how that strange thing which reminded you of a scorpion, finally retreated and died out of nowhere—remain a blur. The ship, the one everyone had been searching for, was empty and almost completely destroyed. It looked as if someone had deliberately planted explosives. The mood turned horrific. The moments of blind euphoria fueled by naivety had evaporated.

Letiția seemed okay for a while considering that massive Arachnid-like invertebrate (or whatever it was) had attached itself to her face and forced a long appendage down her throat(and who knows where it went). Many whispered that the creature had probably injected a virus or poison into her and that she was now sick.

The first stage was a noticeable slowing down. The second stage was the pallor, even her pink lips lost their colour and dark circles formed under her eyes, as if life was being actively drained from her. The third stage, short but understandably concerning, was excessive salivation. You tried to help. You gave her water which she immediately vomited, stroke her hair, offered her one of your protein bars which she constantly refused. You ended up helping her walk, each step harder than the last. Her once straight and confident posture had become hunched and painfully sensitive.

A man from Ship Number 4 offered to carry her. But as soon as you handed her over, she collapsed again due to multiple convulsions overtaking her body. It looked like she was being electrocuted constantly. Her movements spiked from zero to a hundred in seconds. The crowd gathered again but that time, you stayed in the “front seat”. You remember dropping to your knees and trying your best to figure out how to help her, even if it meant a simple touch to let her know she was not alone. But a colleague shoved you aside.

“Her pulse is racing, I can feel movements in her abdominal area,” the man said, jus as foam began to pour from Letiția’s mouth. Her blood vessels were completely bursted, exposing her blue eyes in a grotesque way. She looked at you — right at you — in a form of a pleading that you still can’t forget: Don’t let me die.

Her back arched when the convulsing intensified. Something was moving inside of her. A small bump at first. Then it grew more evident and violent, as though something was forcing its way out of her stomach. It kept going despite the men trying to hold her still. You ended up holding her head to stop it from slamming into the floor. You wiped away her sweat, her snot, her tears. None of it felt real. You and Letiția had shared everything. Slept beside each other, ate together, talked everyday for over a month. She was strong, ambitious, the backbone of your hope that you won’t return empty-handed. And a single mother of two children that are still waiting for her at home.

You’ve witnessed plenty of deaths from exhaustion, mining accidents, radiation. But nothing like that. Nothing so sudden and brutal.

It was a hard watch. Her stomach ended up pierced. Everyone recoiled to avoid the red liquid gushing out of her. You allowed it to stain you (you remember this detail but you don't know why). The sounds coming from her belly made everything clear. There was something alive inside her and it wanted out.

Then it happened. The tearing continued agonisingly, more of her blood spattered the air. That’s when you saw it for te first time.

The Xenomorph.

Of course, you didn't know what it was or what it could do. The appearance was for sure unforgettable. A slick, beige-yellow skin smeared in your friend’s blood, small and sharp teeth, no eyes, long and curved head, skeletal structure that looked alien and terrifying. It clawed and tore its way out of her, shrieking and thrashing.

You lowered your head. You didn’t see it fully emerge and scurry away. Nor your comrades that tried to catch it. How could you? Death was staring at you. And you were staring back.

You learnt that Death’s eyes were blue, empty and filled with helpless tears.

On your first day on the unidentified planet, you are able to remember the following: after Letiția’s death, the creature grew rapidly. You encountered a corporate synthetic whose ranking was above your officers. You learned that the planet was crawling with these things. The Synthetic had no intention to save you, too preoccupied with capturing a live specimen. People started dying (oh no). Either skewered through the chest by tails with sharped ends, or drilled in the skull by secondary jaws hidden inside the alien’s mouths. Panic naturally erupted. You ran with your crew and the Synthetic back to your spaceship. All officers and NCOs died. Ship Number Three was blown up by a flamethrower operated by a scared idiot. And then you guys found out that someone had stolen the fuel from each ship that are no longer viable for takeoff, useful only as shelters. Your crew blamed the Synthetic (totally understandable to point your finger at the android). One of them even amputated its arm with an axe. In response, it took you hostage and threatened that he had enough strength in his only intact arm to snap your neck. You ended up in a room on the ship with him and we know what happened next. Obviously… a regular Monday for some of you.

༺☆༻

Almost two weeks passed. You are trapped inside the ship now, with limited water and food resources. The only remaining advantage is the possibility to communicate with the other ships — though they have even fewer survivors than yours. Your crew is relatively lucky to remain intact, if you exclude the officer, the non-commissioned officer and Letiția. You’ve also discovered the access codes for the weapons depot.

The files in your possession are voluminous. You divided them in two — sharing the first half with your comrades and keeping the rest for yourself. You believe that knowing more than they do might increase your chances of survival. At first you avoided the files, but temptation grew in you. At least it is something to occupy your mind rather than imagining all the ways in which you could end up dead sooner or later.

The first part (shared one) details how Xenomorphs are similar to a killing machine. They are highly aggressive, parasitic species.

[Powerful physical abilities, including the one to secrete acid blood. They also have impressively long, bony tails. They stand at around 7 feet tall (2.13 m) averaging in anywhere between 140 and 180 kg. But these measurements could change depending on the host chosen.]

[Their reproduction is through a parasitic cycle, with facehuggers (the creature that jumped on Letiția's face) latching onto a host (human, animal) to implant a chestburster, which eventually matures into a Xenomorph.]

And the rest of the cycle is pretty much known by everyone at this point. Reading about facehuggers always gave you an overwhelming sense of dread and anger. Overall, Xenomorphs are classified as some sort of ruthless biological weapons driven by their instinct to hunt and reproduce fast.

Xenomorph's primal need is to multiply.

[Diet: No evidence of eating. Xenomorphs seem to prioritize using living beings for their own reproduction rather than consuming them as food. They often leave the bodies of their victims untouched, even in the situation where they have access to plenty of potential food sources. A possible theory is that they might absorb nutrients from the environment or their own blood.]

From all those pages one thing becomes clear. You are fucked. And acid blood just sounds sick. They are also incredibly persistent with their prey so it’s unlikely they’ve left the area and the risk is not worth taking. At this point, no one has managed to come up with a plan. Yeah, you! Yes, you! You are fucked x2. The information you shared ended up intimidating everyone instead of motivating them. One good example is Miranda.

You and Miranda have always had a natural way of understanding each other. It was like an instant click. Maybe that’s why as she began to withdraw from the group, she chose to confide only in you. There’s one room inside the ship that can be sealed with a code — both to lock and unlock it. That’s your shared room.

“There are seven men on this ship, I am a woman and I don’t know exactly how you identify but I know that you also have… “ Her concern was genuine each time she vented to you and it’s also a reasonable one. Water and food were running out fast, and you and Miranda are the most vulnerable passengers. Not all men gave you the impression that they are preying on you. But one sure does, right from the start of the lockdown. Colby.

You can’t really describe Colby’s appearance, either because he is the most unremarkable man you’ve ever seen, or because he arrived with a huge black eye that always distracts you. Two of the men in your crew were recruited from prison. The corporation justified it by saying something about knowledge in spaceships, navigation and mechanics. Colby was one of them and he clearly enjoys it. Because of this so-called “knowledge “ he started to see himself as more valuable than all of you, indispensable. He rarely spoke before, preferring silence and long stares full of spite and contempt. But now? Now Colby is the most talkative one. Especially around Miranda. Well, that… concerns you.

The part of the document that you kept for yourself has become your new obsession. An obsession that came from a fascination you never imagine you’d have, especially when your life is constantly under threat. It is incomplete. A considerable amount of pages are missing, you feel frustrated whenever the information abruptly cuts off.

The report detailed failed hybrids in the beginning. Though traces of humanity were visible, the subjects were clearly more aligned with the sphere of the Xenomorph. They were hideous and uncanny. There were pictures too, it felt illegal because of how fucked-up they looked. But the descriptions of the successful hybrid made your heart race a bit (a bit more).

Endowed with consciousness, research notes indicated that he functions perfectly as a human — emotionally and psychologically. A harmonious blend of lethal instinct and human sensitivity. His ability to reflect, respond to various stimuli , and speak coherently surpasses an average human.

[Self control: confirmed.

Strategy and reason: evident.]

[Height: Slightly shorter than an average Xenomorph but is two meters tall.]

[Appearance: Upper body is human. The face bears no resemblance to a Xenomorph. Some exposed bone material is visible along the left jawline, extending just beneath the ear but it does not dominate the face. Human ears are present. Expressions are clear, human and very handsome.]

You arched an eyebrow when you reached the last word of that paragraph.

[Appearance continued: From neck to navel, torso resembles a fit human male.

Defined pectorals.

Natural and normal skin tone.

The back, arms, shoulders, and the lower body, however, align with Xenomorph traits: black, bony and glossy. The subject seems to have more tissues in the mentioned body parts. It gives him the appearance of plumpness rather than subnutrion.

The waist is broader than that of a typical Xenomorph, matching the proportions of a healthy, athletic man.]

The rest of the pages detailing his appearance were missing. But it's not like you can’t identify the only hybrid that exists on this planet. Even so, you are a bit disappointed by the limited information on the supposed specimen that somehow you have to capture alive.

The interrogation logs were even more fragmented.

[ Interrogation Log — 19:23 pm.

interrogator: how are you feeling?

subject: as good as a person can feel when they are viewed as a lab mouse.

interrogator: do you consider yourself a person?

subject: that’s a complex question. especially since we've only just started with the questioning.

Notes: subject frequently looks upward and grins. displays habitual condescension and sarcasm.]

You can’t find the full answer to that question. It probably developed into a long conversation.

[interrogator: so this is how you came into being? you completely deny your origin as being related to experimental and laboratory work?

subject: isn’t it obvious? i’m all natural. your interventions are an insult. i don't understand how you can create something so outrageous and even enjoy it. completely ignoring the fact that you haven't made any progress. do you actually look at your created hybrids with pride?

Notes: interrogator ignored the provocation and the subject’s insults. subject appears visibly pleased with himself.]

[interrogator: if what you’re claiming about your birth is true, then, do you currently possess male genitalia, capable of reproduction like a mammal?

Notes: subject did not respond. he smiled and swayed his bony tail similarly to a cat.]

[interrogator: are you able to read and write?

subject: yes.

interrogator: from where?

subject: from you.

interrogator: this is our first direct contact.

subject: but i’ve been observing you for more than a week.

interrogator: and that’s how you also learned how to speak?

subject: correct. took me a day.

interrogator: you have the ability to learn quickly then?

subject: you tell me.

Notes: the interrogator glanced down and moved on to the next question. subject’s satisfaction seemed to grow with each exchange.]

[interrogator: do you have a sense of personal identity?

subject: possibly. i gave myself a name. does that count?

interrogator: it does, yes. what is your name?

subject: Sylus.]

And that’s all the information you have about him.

“Sylus, Sylus, Sylus," you kept repeating, committing his name to memory. But your mind was filled with many questions: How did the species end up on this lifeless planet? Were they brought here for controlled observation? Their ship seemed equipped for such scientific operations.

How was Sylus created? Does he have a penis? What does he actually look like? Who destroyed the ship? Where did the scientist go? How are you going to escape alive and with two still-living specimens, one normal and one hybrid, from this place?

How intelligent and capable is Sylus? You had no rest for five days after reading all that.

༺☆༻

You put your materials back in your bag after revising them for god knows how many times. Today, it’s your turn to supervise the activity outside. Usually, a guy named Otto is in charge, but he took the day off since he’d been monitoring the cameras for two days straight without break. So, you push aside the fact that you’ve been neglecting your duties lately and head towards the screen.

A tall figure. Cliff in the distance. Before it disappears — white hair? Your rise from your chair to lean closer to the monitor. It was him! It had to he him! He’s been right under your nose this whole time. Fuck! (How could you miss on seeing your shayla??)

You quickly adjust the camera using the keyboard and zoom in. He left something behind. You press zoom again.

Your mouth literally waters and your hands begin to shake. You also swallow the saliva forming inside your mouth. On the rocky hill near your ship is… food. Powdered food/rations. Not the yummiest but ideal for space-traveling. Fundamental supplies that have been rapidly draining recently.

(The officers often stop at other colonies to restock, so a fully stocked food depot has never existed). Your stomach growls and begging you to retrive the cardboard box that is waiting for you outside. You are aware that it’s fishy af. Your body doesn’t care though. You want it sooo bad. You look at that cardboard box with your mouth half-open, hypnotised.

“Motherfucker… .Holy.fucking.shit. It’s like witnessing the birth of Jesus.” You jump as Colby appears out of nowhere with his eyes locked on the screen. Oh no.

Predictably, it escalates.

Colby starts banging on the walls with his bat, yelling, “Food! Lots of food out there! Food!” and you have a hard time to keep up with him.

“Colby! Colby stop it!” but the crew has already gathered and Colby just turns to you with the most insincere smile.

“What? What’s wrong with letting everyone know that the solution to a big, current problem is right around the corner?” He might even be trying to paint you as the bad guy.

“It’s just a way to lure us out,”you answer firmly.

“Who?”

“You know who.”

“You talk like there’s something out there besides those creatures.” At least he has a good sense of observation. You gotta give it to him.

“No. I’m talking about them. It’s true that the files didn’t mention xenomorphs using tactics like this, but it’s not worth it if the price is all of us getting slaughtered like mice.” You manage to maintain your imposing position in front of him. Colby, on the other hand, toys with the handle of his bat. He underestimates you.

“Ah, yes. So the best option is to stay here and starve? Maybe we’ll end up eating each other.” Colby’s eyes are glinting. “I’ll definitely start with you, personally.” He jabs the tip of his bat into your chest and gives a small push. You stop yourself from punching him, personally.

Enzo, another crew member, intervenes, grabbing his bat. Colby spits on your boot as a response.

“Wouldn't it be better to use our energy for something useful instead of threatening each other?" Enzo suggests.

“I didn't threaten him." You wish you did.

“Leave it." Enzo mutters through gritted teeth." Ok… alright. It's true that we need food, but it's also true it's a trap. So, I will go myself. Ideally, I’d have two men with me, but if no one volunteers, I’ll go alone."

Rocco and Aldo, Enzo’s close friends, raised their hands.

The plan is simple. Enzo, Rocco and Aldo will go out armed (of course). The ship has three access points/three barriers with the outside:

1. The outer door to the entrance room — opened by a unique code.

2. The door from the entrance room to the corridor— accessed via authorised card.

3. The door from the corridor into the base — also requiring an authorised card.

Aldo and Rocco will leave their authorised cards at the base. Enzo will bring it with him just in case and destroy it if necessary.

“We will communicate via headset,” Enzo explains. “Two people will monitor from here. One armed crew member will stay in each era: entrance room, corridor, and base.”

Otto is not participating.

“We need constant communication and cooperation, keep that in mind. If any of you see that the odds of us getting back are low and it becomes too risky — no matter how much we beg, no matter how much we plead… DO. NOT. LET. US. IN.” Enzo came up with the plan on the spot. It almost feels like he is a perfectly organised person — though you know he isn’t. The plan is not so bad. Or maybe you’re desperate.

An old man, the other convict who refuses to reveal his name, will be stationed at the ship’s base. Most likely chosen for his size and build. He’s a total unit, impressive for his age. You’ve often wondered how someone like him ended up in prison.

Miranda is in charge of the corridor, Colby has the entrance room. You and a man named Theo will handle monitoring and communication.

You watched as the trio disembarked without any issues and managed to get away from the ship safely for now. Theo suggested that he track their movements while you monitor the other cameras and report any unusual activity. The distance seems short but time drags on painfully. Nothing shows up so far. Your focus is out the window once Miranda rushes in crying and visibly shaken. Both you and the old man are caught off guard. Theo doesn’t give a single shit. Colby follows close behind and he appears furious. Theo immediately nags them about the fact that they’ve abandoned their critical posts— which, yes, it is important— but you are more concerned for Miranda.

“Colby!” you shout after him.

“Mind your business and fuck off, bitch!” he snaps.

You start to rise from your chair, but Theo stops you. You are ready to start an argument with him, but the old man assures you he’ll handle it and get them both back.

“They picked now to start fighting. That’s just bloody brilliant.” Theo grumbles with an accent.

“This is not a fight. Miranda wouldn’t have left unless she felt threatened. Why did Colby abandoned his post?”

“Why don’t you just focus on the screens?” you bite back a retort. Enzo and the rest are risking their lives and you calmed down once the old man reassured you he’ll handle it.

So, you refocus. Scanning each camera feed one by one. On the camera from the right side of the ship you spot something. Thin, black and bony tail slithering slowly and silently past the edge of the camera lens.

“There’s one on the right side of the ship,” you report immediately to Theo who reports the message further. You keep checking the cameras one by one again. There are two cameras facing the entrance. One pointing into the distance — Theo’s responsibility — and one pointing downward. Well, Letiția’s corpse appeared on that camera.

Decomposed, yet with the same eyes that haunt you, with the same hole in her stomach from which her intestines are now sticking out. You shake your head and look again. For a second, it seems like you can only see her eyes. Just as close as they were the day she died.

Panic surges through you as you jump to your feet and run. Theo also spots Letiția’s body that appeared “mysteriously” on camera and let’s just say he got pissed.

“Y/n, are you fucking kid- GO AHEAD AND BE STUPID!”

It's a trap, it's a trap, it's a trap. You know it’s a trap. You’re fully aware of it. But still. You grab a flamethrower and cross the corridor as fast as you can. You know he is mind gaming you, and this only confirms what you’ve been suspected: Sylus has been studying you, just like he studied those before you. He’s been watching since you arrived, at least long enough to deliberately place Letiția — or what’s left of her — as the perfect emotional bait for the perfect victim.

Hands start to tremble. You entered the code wrong the first time. You really try to calm yourself down so you start pressing each key slowly. The door begins to open from bottom to top. You aim with the flamethrower with every twist of your torso. Scanning the area carefully, you notice how the fog has thickened. Can barely see a thing.

No movements. No breathing. Good.

Without wasting time, you grab the corpse by the shoulders and begin pulling it after you. The screams of Enzo, Rocco and Aldo echo into the distance. They are close enough to hear but way too far to help. Maybe it’s the adrenaline but somehow you managed to drag Letiția’s body easily into the entrance room. The fog is so dense that you can’t see your comrades. Only flashes of gunfire followed by the sharp sounds of the creatures. They are too far and you can’t risk leaving the door open, so you close it. Like in every horror movie, it shuts painfully slow, from top to bottom.

As the door descends, you hear footsteps. Calculated steps. Definitely not your teammates (who are still yelling and shooting) or a normal Xenomorph.

“GRILL HIS FUCKING ASS!” Theo screams in your headset. “What the fuck is that?” he adds. You can't believe it… Theo saw him first. Life is for sure unfair.

“I can’t. The door is halfway down!”

“It doesn’t matter! Point the flamethrower down in case he ties to crawl through!” you obey, dropping to your knees, lowering your aim with the motions of the door. You remain in that position until it finally seals shut.

That was a close call.

But the universe is not always kind, right? You barely had time to breath in relief when you hear it. Faint clicks. Buttons being pressed slowly. Identical to how you pressed them moments earlier.

He learned the code from you.

“Theo! He knows the code!” You scramble, grabbing Letiția’s corpse by the shoulders again and dragging it.

“You and the rest are on your own! Fuck all of you!” Theo yells before tossing his headset away. Static sounds follow.

The door begins to rise slowly. That dense mist creeps into the room. You fumble for your authorised card. You drop it. Once. Twice. Thrice. The door is halfway open but for some reason he waits outside. It’s like he’s savouring the moment, letting the tension peel away your sanity.

You manage to finally scan the card and the corridor door opens, sliding from left to right. You resume back to dragging the corpse, never taking your attention off the entrance. The corridor door signals through loud beeps that you have ten seconds until automatic closure (you can override it for quicker shut with a manual swipe of the card).

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A tall, dark and tailed figure steps onto the ship. You notice him immediately. Broad shoulders, the shape of a human head, and he’s well-built. That’s intimidating btw. Because of the dim light you can’t see the full extent of his appearance, just his dark figure. Behind his silhouette, through the thick fog, the flashes of gunfire flicker. Brief bursts of light from the trio’s weapons. The whole view, the sounds of the door about to close automatically combined with the sounds of the gunfire gives you a headache. You pull Letiția’s lifeless body inside just in time before the door slides shut.

You are safe. For now. You don’t care.

What’s in front of you? Her face is so decomposed from putrefaction you can’t even remember how she looked like before. Why did you bring her here? For what purpose? So she could be buried back home? By her little children who have no idea they're orphans? You remember how she always kept a photo of them with her, but you never asked to see it. So you start searching. You have nothing better to do. You don’t know what to do. You fucked up the whole operation. Something that Letiția would have never done.

Enzo and the others won’t make it. That’s certain. Nothing makes sense anymore, everything lacks purpose. Why are you torturing yourself by searching for that damn picture?

The photo is nowhere. But that’s not what worries you — the absence of her authorised card does. Not in the pockets, boots or any piece of clothing. You’re on the verge of checking inside her exposed intestines but you stop yourself.

"Can anyone hear me? Letiția’s card is missing—" A grenade detonates outside the ship. Before you can process what the hell was that, a hand grabs your hair and yanks you backward down the corridor.

“Look what you’ve done, smartass.” Colby.

He slams you onto your stomach with ease. He is much more stronger than you. Colby also managed to pick your flamethrower and to throw it several meters away. In response, you use all your strength to hit him in the knee. That gives you a moment to crawl towards the flamethrower and the distance you have covered is considerable.

Funny how you thought it’s gonna be that easy.

Pain explodes. A dagger, deeeeeeeep in your left tight. You don't even have time to scream in pain, the blade is pointed in his direction and he drags you towards him. Damn, he must be mad as hell. He keeps pulling you like that until you are beneath him. He did all that so he can slam his bat into your head. And slamming with his bat he does. Luckily, the blow isn’t hard enough to knock you out but you feel the small and narrow space spinning around you.

Your vocal cords refuse to work. No sound, no protest from you.

Colby’s belt hits the floor.

“You wouldn’t be here if Miranda was a nice and obedient girl.” He presses your head back to the floor with his bat. You don’t know what to do, your visuals keeps on spinning and your body ran cold.

“Fuck.”

A long pause followed.

“I can’t get it up. FUCK. Fuck me, I’ll be more satisfied if I beat your brains out.”

He zips up his pants after that embarrassing moment.

“Don’t worry. It’s gonna be fast. That’s what you get for thinking you’re better than me.”

“Colby. I’m sorry. I never thought I was better than you. Col—” he kicks you in the back, hard. You squint and try your best to force your sounds back down your throat. Even though you are terrified, you don’t want to give him more satisfaction.

He grabs the dagger still buried in your leg and starts twisting it. One twist, two, three — before ripping it out without any remorse. You never screamed louder, like you did just now, in your entire life. Not even when you were pulled from your mother’s womb (I’m sorry). You try to brace your hands against the floor so you can get up but his boot crashes down on your shoulder. It’s futile. You always considered the possibility of Colby trying to hurt you — heck, killing you even — never thought it would happen this fast though.

A trickle of blood runs down your forehead from the blow. You watch him, frowning and mentally burning him with your hatred, as he raises the blade in his hand. He’s gonna aim for your head.

The door opens.

You hear it.

Colby hears it.

And we are not talking about the door to ship’s base. That reminds you. Hmmmmm. You forgot a tiny-silly detail: the missing authorised card.

You swallow hard. Colby swallows hard. The “beef”between you two shifts into a full-on we are fucked turn of events. It’s fascinating how the unknown blends the roles of a criminal and his victim into one.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A drop of sweat slips from Colby’s blonde bangs as he slowly turns towards the door. You don’t. No courage no baaaaaalllls.

“Ayo—” that well-known tail lashes out in his direction, the sharp tip pierces through his lower jaw and sending it flying. You read that right. Completely ripped off, I repeat. The bastard’s jaw hits the wall and lands with a thump near you. Gross. Colby staggers, blinks rapidly and his brows are furrowed. The blood dripping from his dismemberment lands on your butt and his nostrils throb noticeably. You never liked him, hell, you always hated him back. But even though he tried to kill you, you didn’t want to witness his death. The tears that fall aren’t from pity — they’re from fear. You could be next.

His final act was to roll his eyes before his body collapsed right in front of your face. The impact with the floor sprayed a little blood on your neck and chin. Tears of fear finally began to flow down your cheeks.

Next to you lies Colby's fresh body, near your feet lies Letiția’s putrefied body, Theo abandoned you, you don't know if the trio survived, the old man and Miranda are missing — hell knows where, Otto might be still napping. Not to mention, behind you stands the hybrid, who holds one of the ship’s authorised card and also knows the outside access code.

But, at the same time, you have the flamethrower in front of you. Let’s not forget that the hybrid knows how to communicate. Maybe you can negotiate. Negotiate for your life, Letiția’s authorised card, a vacation. Or at least try. Realistically speaking, you don’t have much of an advantage against him. But it’s better to try than to die like those pathetic characters in slasher movies.

A new determination takes over, all that blah blah shit about survival instinct kicking in that drives you to put your impromptu plan into motion. The adrenaline that comes from pure fear and panic postpones, for now, the pain from your injuries (that agony will come later, once the adrenaline wears off… if you’re still alive). You rip Colby’s card off his uniform and back away as best as you can. And— MORHERFUCKER— the files weren’t exaggerating.

“You really are handsome,” you blurt that out without thinking. Compared to the hybrids created by the Weyland-Yutani Corporation, Sylus is ahhhhhhh. A mysterious and undeniable success. You have never seen a man so devastatingly attractive before. He has the kind of face your imagination would use when you retreat into your fantasy world. Any kind of fantasy.

“Should I take it as a form of thanks for saving you?” he asks, standing at his full height (those two meters mmm), one eyebrow raised in an expression that many would label it as arrogance. He looks down at you, chin tilted up and studying you as intently as you study him. Even his voice is appealing, sexy tone, rich, smooth and money money money by abba. Maybe you are a freak???

“Saved? You came specifically to save me?” you snap. “You? The one who planted Letiția’s body and the food specifically to lure us all outside? Cut the bullshit. You are vile.” sitting down, with your hands behind your back, you subtly try to grab the flamethrower behind you.

“Vile? I thought you wanted to honor your friend by recovering her remains. Was I mistaken?” But OF COURSE his Xenomorph instinct catches on. His long tail creeps towards you. You grab the flamethrower just as the terminal, bony tip of his tail wraps around your waist, dragging you in his direction (it’s y/n dragging day guys). As he drags you past Letiția’s body, you raise the flamethrower and point it at him. A grin. That’s what you get. A stupid, hot smirk. GOD.

“Go on.” he urges. You could pull the trigger and incinerate him like a failed bbq steak but you hesitate. “What’s the matter? Perhaps, a change of heart?” he knows damn well that you con’t make crabby patties out of him. Maybe he caught on the fact that you knew about his existence from how close you were with that Synthetic on your first day. It’s true. You can’t kill him. You can’t lose the ticket. You have to capture him, not give him a tan.

The reality hits hard. Sylus is one step ahead. You need a new plan.

And you need it now.

You set the flamethrower down and raise your hands. His tail subtly tightens around your waist and you bite your lower lip to muffle your sounds. He liked that. He finds enjoyment in playing with you.

“Sylus.” you say the name only you know.

“Aa. You finally decided to cut the bullshit.” he remarks, mocking your words from earlier.

“Yes, Sylus. No more bullshit. I swear!” you try to figure out if this attitude is working. Thick, expressive eyebrows, white hair, ruby ​​eyes that refuse to break eye contact, perfect jawline, very beautiful lips and his nose— pull yourself together!! So you do. “I’m aware that I don’t stand a chance against you, not even slightly.”

“That’s what you decided to convey to me now that you realized that I have the upper hand? I expected better.” His brows furrow but the corners of his mouth curl slightly up.

“Exactly!” you point your finger at him and nod. “You have the upper hand, I’m harmless compared to you.” You throw the flamethrower aside to reinforce your point. That earned you a squeeze to your waist and you let a long, strained sight that threatens to sound like something else if he keeps doing that. “See? Harmless,” you return to locking eyes with him again.

“And your whole point is…?”

“A bargain.” His eyebrow arches again, this time not smiling.

“How considerate and sweet of you.” his dry reply has no business being this hot. “What’s your offer… sweetie?” you try not to visibly cringe at the nickname.

“I can tell you’re intrigued by us.”

“Indeed. You guys are intriguingly stupid.”

“No— okay, whatever you say, beautiful.” You managed to control your attitude and not roll your eyes. “I’m intrigued by you too. The feeling is mutual. You prefer us because we are not a bunch of lunatics in lab coats. We are ordinary. We don’t view you as a tool to exploit for the sake of evolution.”

“But you’re afraid of me.” he means you, specifically.

“Not really— well, a little, I’ll admit. But that can change. We can learn from each other. Not just me from you. Mutually. Willingly.” You pause. “For example, I’m very curious about how you were made.”

“How were you made?” he interrupts, using your question against you.

“Uhm. Okay.” you blink, caught off guard by his directness. “Uhm… through sex.” Your cheeks flush, but if he comments on it, you’ll blame it on the temperature. Now, why did you say that? You didn’t even had to respond to that. He finds it amusing. “That’s what it’s called. But many prefer to… uhh… instead of resorting to this reproductive process … make love? Yeah. Make love. “ Sylus’s eyes sparkle, you definitely said something that interests him.

“That means we have something in common. I think I was created through love, not sex.” That statement completed contradicts everything you read in a day’s worth of research on Xenomorph reproduction.

“Really?” Now your eyes sparkle and the roles have been reversed. Sylus has successfully turned the tables. The emotional part in you would do anything to satisfy the curiosity that lingered since reading his interrogation. The rational part in you tries to remind you that you’re losing ground. Ration wins.

“My offer is…” you begin, but Sylus squeezes your waist again. He is slightly annoyed that you’ve broken free from his trance. “… OKAY! First, let go of my waist. Wouldn’t it be better if I speak freely? I don’t think intimidation is necessary for this conversation.”

“You say that as if you didn’t point a deadly weapon at me after I saved your life.” He clearly has a thing for countering everything you say, but he releases your waist and withdraws his tail. You feel like patting yourself on the back for this small victory, but you’re interrupted again.

“Well?”

You take a deep breath.

“If you give me Letiția’s authorised card so I can keep my shipmates safe, I’ll go with you. I’m expressing, directly, my willingness to follow you without resistance. I’ll show you what love means between people, maybe even help you discover that part of yourself that’s made of love.” It has reached the point where you are both lost in each other. You don’t know how to describe it. You’re starting to believe in the proposal you crafted on the spot to fool him.

“Deal.”

He unclenches the fist holding Letiția’s card and extends it to you. You snatch it without a second thought. Then he extends his other hand. Large, black, glossy, long fingers and sharp claws.

Maybe the perfect plan was to destroy all three cards and set yourself on fire. But you end up reaching towards his hand (in slow-motion too).

Take his hand. Take him.

Suddenly, both doors swing open. Rocco and Enzo are behind Sylus, stunned by his presence. The old man and Miranda stand behind you, equally stunned. And you feel like your privacy has been invaded. Sylus remains unbelievably calm.

Rocco steps forward, pointing his automatic rifle in his direction. Sylus just grabs him by the neck like he’s nothing and slams him against the wall before he can react. Enzo —noticing the xenomorphs advancing and about to enter the ship— squats down and runs past Sylus, narrowly dodging a tail strike that slices into the metal. Before straightening his body, he grabs you around the waist with both of his arms and lifts you up from the ground. Despite his lack of muscles, he carries you effortlessly.

Sylus watches everything with a faint, innocent smile. Unsettling innocent. Hard to tell how he is feeling when he throws Rocco out of the corridor where his “kind” are now finishing him for good.

The old man walks past you and sets fire to the corpses that were left lying around. You averted your gaze as the flames spread to Letiția’s body. It's tragic how she became the first victim. She should have been the heroine like she always was. A heroine for her children. The proof lived not only in her character, but also in each scar on her body. Scars that she showed you when she told you that she didn't regret selling her body for her kids, how she was the happiest person when she offered them the life she never had. You clenched the cards tightly in your fists. As the smell of her burning flesh hits your nose, you whispered a prayer for her peace.

༺☆༻

You lost territory. Well, just the entrance room and the corridor. A few people too.

Aldo sacrificed himself for Enzo and Rocco. Rocco sacrificed himself for all of you. Colby? You don’t even think about him anymore.

Theo refuses to speak to anyone, convinced that if he does, he’ll die too.

Miranda nearly died as well. When the old man followed her while she was trying to get away from Colby’s persistent harassment, she came across Otto’s body. The one who was mostly in charge of surveillance and was supposed to be resting.

Otto committed s*icide. He shot himself in the chest. He had good dexterity and had always wanted to go into the medical field since he was a child. His aim was perfectly precise, he succeeded in avoiding a slow death. Above the wound was a photo of his boyfriend from home, Ludwig, and a ring he wore around his neck on a thin silver thread. No one knew he was secretly married until you read the message written on the back of the photograph.

“Bis dass der Tod uns scheidet. Wir sind an diese verbotene Liebeszeremonie gebunden.”

(“Until death do us part. We are bound by this ceremony of forbidden love”)

Love.

Miranda took the blame — even though you tried to argue it’s not true. She confessed that when she found Otto, she wanted to do the same. Colby left and it took the old man a long time to talk Miranda down into stopping her from pulling the trigger of the gun she had pressed to her own forehead.

Theo got involved during Miranda's apology speech and pointed his finger at everyone. The argument that followed was eventually calmed down by Enzo, who reminded everyone that if you keep blaming each other, no one will survive another day. He was right. Twelve of you came, five of you remained. And Enzo ended up being very respected for surviving outside, even though he returned empty-handed.

You got not praise. You decided to keep your intereaction with Sylus a secret and pretend it was a — ohh I’m just like a cliche lady in distress in need of saving! Enzo!! But their way of perceiving is not a problem to you.

What troubles you now is how nothing adds up.

You suspect Sylus of being the one that stole the ship’s fuel, but if that’s true, why didn’t he destroy the barricade system? That means that he also knew the codes from the beginning, if he truly is the thief. But if it’s not him, then who? Why didn’t he used that Xenomorph’s acidic blood to force his own way in anyway? Where are the bodies of the scientists that arrived before you? Is there someone else that poses a bigger threat? Nothing makes sense. You made a deal too. Sylus surely haven’t forgotten.

Everything is starting to feel…

Intentional.

AN: pfewww. Took me a day to write this (told you inspiration flows better when I write in my language) BUT TRANSLATING IT AND EDITING IT— pfewww— two full business days. I hope I didn’t disappoint, I feel like this is crap. Anyways. Not sure when I will write chapter 2. This week for sure not.

Tags: @some-rad-socks-and-a-crisis @qweuf3459 @starr-matterr @stxrrielle @tinyweebsstuff @and-s0me0ne

@stargirlygirl hi sexy.

@seradyn I hope I did not disappoint a fellow alien fan.

[blixains]

Public Parkings and Private Sins (Sylus R18)

Tags: Explicit Sexual Content (NSFW, 18+), Public Sex, Filthy Vaginal Sex and Creampie, Cumplay, Fingering and Oral Sex, Dirty Talk and Degradation, Sex While Driving, Profanity and Graphic Language, Third Person POV, Self-insert Fic

This is inspired by the car chase scene from the most recent main story updates.

Note: This is also available on AO3 as part of a series of car sex scenario featuring all lads love interests.

Written by: @blixains on AO3, TikTok, and X

The tires screamed as they ripped around the tight curve of a dimly lit street, your heart slamming against your ribs, half from adrenaline, half from the half-glass-too-many you’d downed at that underground bar with Sylus an hour ago. Neon lights blurred past the windows. Bullets pinged off the back of the sleek black car too.

“Shit—” you hissed, glancing at Sylus, who sat behind the wheel, unbothered, one hand lazily draped over the steering wheel while the other flicked his gun’s safety off. His blazer hung open, his dress shirt partially unbuttoned from earlier carelessness, and his smirk? That thing should be criminal.

“They’re getting bolder.” His voice was calm, low, almost bored. “Or more suicidal.”

“You’re drunk.”

He scoffed. “Tipsy. Like you. Don’t insult my reflexes.”

Another shot cracked behind you. You cursed and leaned forward.

“I’m taking the wheel. You need both hands if you’re gonna shoot.”

Sylus gave you a look, the one that usually meant, ‘You’re lucky I like you’. “Try not to crash. I hate cleaning blood off leather.”

You scrambled over the center console with a bit more ass than grace, and Sylus didn’t miss the view, you felt it in the heat of his gaze on your thighs as your dress rode up. You slipped into the driver’s seat, grabbed the wheel, and pressed the pedal down like a woman possessed.

He didn’t even buckle in.

Outside, the enemy car was still behind, but you took a hard right through traffic, weaving between taxis and unaware civilians like you had a death wish. Sylus leaned out of the window, one knee on the seat, unholstering a sleek matte pistol. When he fired, it was smooth and precise. A window shattered in the black SUV tailing you.

“That’s one,” he muttered, settling back inside.

“Could you shoot faster?” You snapped, swerving around a truck.

“Could you drive less like a civilian?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Later,” he said smoothly, that crooked smirk curving his lips. “When we’re not being shot at.”

It was insane how calm he was. The more chaos erupted around him, the more at ease he seemed to be. You caught his reflection in the rearview mirror, silver hair tousled by the wind, pupils still blown from the drinks, and the faint glow of red blooming in one eye.

You hated how hot that was.

Eventually, you lost the tail. You ducked into a sea of thick, congested traffic near the bridge, horns blaring, and every car around you crawling at a snail’s pace. You stopped in the middle lane, catching your breath, the heat between you almost worse than the gunfire.

Sylus sprawled back into his seat, rolling his neck.

You turned to look at him. Really look.

“…Have you always been this fucking jacked?” Your eyes dragged slowly across his chest, lingering on the tight stretch of his shirt, where buttons fought to contain his chest and abs. “I swear to god, you’ve grown an entire new muscle group.”

He gave a low chuckle, tilting his head at you, cocky as ever.

“You’ve been ogling me this whole time, haven’t you?”

“I’ve been driving,” you said, though your gaze hadn’t moved from his chest. “But I’ve got peripheral vision. And it’s telling me you’ve been doing something in that gym when I wasn’t looking.”

Sylus reached up lazily to loosen another button. You watched the next sliver of skin appear, your mouth suddenly dry. His voice dropped lower, just enough to scrape your nerves.

“You sure it’s the gym, sweetheart?”

You blinked. “What, did you evolve into this out of spite?”

“I adapt quickly.” His smirk widened. “Unlike you, apparently. You’re still drooling.”

“I am not—”

He leaned closer. The crowded traffic outside disappeared from your awareness completely. His hand slid over to your thigh, warm and steady.

“Say it,” he murmured, “Say you want to fuck me right here with your foot still on the brake.”

Your breath hitched.

Traffic crawled, and the sun had started to lower behind the skyline, slanting a burnished gold across the dashboard. You were sweating, not from the heat, but from him.

You glanced over at him. His smirk hadn’t moved.

“You don’t get to look like that after a gunfight.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re still talking about my arms?”

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Your everything looks suspicious right now. Like a fucking cheat code.”

Sylus hummed lazily.

Then his hand… moved.

Slow at first. Not even touching you. Just hovering near your thigh like he was testing the air pressure, like he had all the time in the goddamn world and knew you didn’t.

Your pulse jumped.

He didn’t touch.. no, not yet. His knuckles ghosted close, brushing the hem of your dress. His fingers dragged slow arcs against the fabric. Not even skin yet, and it was already lighting your nerves on fire.

“Sylus…” you warned under your breath, though you didn’t really mean it.

He tilted his head just enough for his hair to shift over his forehead. “You’re driving. I’m not doing anything.”

His fingers slipped a little higher. Not quite between your legs. Just to the edge of your inner thigh, where heat pooled and your panties were already damp with how long you’d been thinking about this smug bastard.

“You’re stalling,” he murmured, red eyes on the road ahead, not even looking at you. “You want me to touch you, but you’re trying to pretend you don’t.”

“I just escaped death by car chase.”

“So you’re still alive,” he said coolly, dragging a single finger along your thigh. “Might as well feel like it.”

You cursed under your breath. His hand hovered again, then this time… finally pressed down.

His fingers slid beneath your dress slowly. There was no rush in him. His touch was deliberate and teasing. He brushed the thin line of your inner thigh, fingers spreading slightly, your breath catching as the pads of his fingertips skimmed the edge of your panties.

Then he paused.

He didn’t speak.

Just let that charged silence stretch between you while his fingers rested there, firm but unmoving. As if waiting for you to beg.

You gripped the wheel tighter. “Sylus—”

“Shh.”

With no more warning, he slid two fingers against the center of your panties. Right where it was wet. You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth. The fabric was no protection at all. He dragged his fingers up, slow as sin, letting the soaked material cling to you as he stroked lightly. He was still looking at the windshield.

You felt like you were going to combust.

“That’s soaked,” he said, voice low. “You’ve been like this since I pulled the trigger, haven’t you?”

“Damn you.”

He chuckled.

“I think I’ll take my time.” his fingers hooked into your panties and pushed them aside in one smooth, practiced motion, knuckles brushing hot skin.

The cool air of the car hit your soaked folds, and you gasped. His fingers slid between your slick pussy lips. He groaned, low and almost to himself. You tried to keep your foot steady on the brake as he slipped a finger inside you.

Then another.

Fucking hell.

His fingers curled just right, slow and deliberate. He moved like he was trying to memorize the way your walls clutched around him. The heel of his palm dragged against your clit, subtle and devastating.

“I should stop,” he said. “Traffic’s moving again.”

You glanced out the windshield. Three whole cars had moved ahead. You hadn’t even noticed. “Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

He leaned over just slightly, mouth at your ear now, voice a shade darker.

“Then drive,” he murmured. “Let’s see how well you multitask with your pussy squeezing my fingers.”

You tried to breathe evenly as traffic inched forward again. Foot off the brake, hands on the wheel. Your thighs tense, your pulse thudding through every nerve ending. You were driving… technically. The car was moving. But your brain? Your brain had been hijacked by Sylus’s fingers buried inside your soaking cunt.

He sat reclined in the passenger seat like he wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary, like he wasn’t curling his fingers inside you just right while you attempted to operate heavy machinery. Every slow stroke made your hips shift involuntarily. Every time he pressed his palm up against your clit, your foot twitched on the gas.

“You’re gripping the wheel so tight, sweetie,” Sylus muttered, eyes lazily half-lidded as he watched you. His voice dripped with smug satisfaction. “Should I be jealous of that poor steering wheel?”

You didn’t answer.

You couldn’t. Not when he crooked his fingers inside you. Like he knew exactly where your sweet spot lived and wanted to make you crash the damn car just to prove a point.

Your mouth dropped open in a soundless gasp. Your hips jerked forward slightly, legs spreading more, instinctively trying to chase the friction his fingers offered.

“Oh… fuck, Sylus—”

That earned you a grin.

“I love when you say my name like that.” His thumb moved to brush your clit now, the movement lazy and circular. Not fast enough to finish you. Just enough to drive you insane. “You know how many enemies I’ve shot in the face today and didn’t blink? But this—” he curled his fingers again, dragging them out and back in with obscene squelches that made your cheeks burn, “—this is the part I enjoy.”

You couldn’t look at him. If you looked at him, you were going to fall apart right there in traffic.

“I swear to god, if I crash this car—”

“Crash, and I’ll finger you harder,” he muttered against your neck, suddenly leaning in to kiss the skin just under your ear. “Maybe I’ll even fuck you over the hood while the city watches.”

Your foot pressed down on the gas a little too fast. The engine growled.

His fingers pumped into you with more confidence now, the rhythm slick and steady, the heel of his hand rocking against your clit just enough to keep you wet and shaking. Then, you felt it building tight in your abdomen. You gritted your teeth.

“Sylus, fuck—don’t stop.”

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, you’re close already? What happened to all that mouth, sweetheart?”

Your thighs were trembling. You tried to keep your hands steady, tried to keep the car moving straight, but it was so fucking hard when his fingers were fucking into you like that, massaging your inner walls like he’d studied the blueprints of your body.

Then he leaned in again, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Come for me,” he murmured, breath hot and filthy. “While you’re driving. Come on, sweetie.”

That did it.

Your foot stuttered on the gas again as the orgasm hit violently. Your mouth parted in a sharp gasp, eyes fluttering half-shut as your hips rocked forward, riding his fingers through it, the pleasure rippling out in waves you barely controlled.

Sylus didn’t pull away.

He kept those fingers deep, feeling every clench around them, letting you squeeze and shake and twitch under his hand. You swore the bastard moaned, low in his throat.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, voice molten with amusement and arousal. “You drive like a goddess when you’re dripping all over my hand.”

You swallowed hard. You were still panting, still twitching around him.

“You’re a fucking menace,” you muttered.

“I know,” he said, smug as ever.

The second your legs stopped trembling enough to trust the brakes, you swerved into the nearest public parking lot with no intention of making it subtle. The tires crunched over gravel as you pulled into a far-off space beneath a flickering light pole, half-hidden behind a dirty white delivery van.

You threw the car into park and exhaled hard, still flushed, panties still shoved to the side, Sylus’s fingers soaked with your release and still resting between your thighs like he had no plans of moving them. The bastard looked too smug for someone who nearly made you get off in traffic.

But you weren’t done either.

Your eyes flicked to the backseat. “Move.”

Sylus raised a brow. “Oh?”

“I said move, Sylus.”

There was a glint in his red eyes, hungry and amused. He slid out of the passenger seat with that unhurried elegance of his and slipped into the back like a fucking panther claiming his territory. You followed, crawling between the front seats without a second thought, the heat between your thighs only getting worse the second your legs were free again.

You didn’t waste time. The moment you turned and dropped back into the middle of the car, your spine curved over the edge of the front seat, arms bracing against it as you spread your legs wide, one heel pressed against the left rear door, the other hooked awkwardly behind the front passenger seat.

Your panties were still crooked and soaked. Your slick glistened in the low light, and Sylus’s eyes dropped to it like gravity pulled them there.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, silver hair falling over his brow.

“Well,” he murmured, sinking to his knees between your spread thighs, one hand bracing your knee open. “You do know how to beg without speaking.”

You glared. “If you’re not gonna eat it, I’ll find someone who will.”

He chuckled. “You always get this bratty when you’re desperate?”

Then he didn’t wait anymore.

He leaned in.

His mouth met your pussy like he meant it. No teasing now. No fingers hovering, no mocking. His tongue licked a wide, slow stripe from the bottom of your slit to the aching bundle of nerves at the top. He groaned into you like it fed something in him.

“Fucking—” your hips jerked. “God, Sylus—”

He didn’t answer. Just locked his arms under your thighs, dragging you impossibly closer, your ass nearly off the seat now, suspended by his grip and your folded spine over the front seat.

Then he got filthy with it.

His mouth latched onto your clit, sucking hard enough to make your whole vision white out for a second. His tongue flicked, slow and steady, circling you, then flattening out to press fully against your soaked folds. He moaned again, like he liked the taste of you way more than he should.

And you?

You were wrecked.

Your fingers clawed at the front seat, breathing heavy, chest heaving. Your thighs quivered from how wide he kept them spread. His tongue slid inside you now, curling just like his fingers had minutes ago.

“Sylus—fuck, right there, a-ah—!”

He pulled back just a little to speak, lips slick, red eyes glowing faintly under the dim parking lot lights. “Louder,” he said. “Let’s make sure the whole damn lot hears how sweet you sound.”

He dove back in before you could snap something back.

His tongue flicked your clit with ruthless rhythm now, while one hand moved and slid two fingers deep into your slick cunt. He pumped them in time with his mouth, moaning against you, nose brushing your clit as he devoured you.

You were shaking again. You couldn’t stay quiet. The slap of his fingers and the obscene sounds of his mouth on you echoed in the car.

“Ah—I’m gonna—!”

You shattered.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, brutal and hot. You gasped, thighs trying to clamp around his head, but his arms held you wide, kept you open for him as he kept licking through it, dragging out every twitch and cry and soaked ripple of pleasure.

Your whole body sagged back, boneless and fucked-out, still twitching with aftershocks. You barely realized he’d slowed his fingers, dragging them out so painfully slow, coated in your cum, lips brushing your inner thigh like a closing kiss.

When he finally looked up, he wiped his mouth, then licked the fingers he’d pulled out of you like you were the first real meal he’d had in weeks.

“Now that was better than killing people,” he muttered.

The windows were fogged. Your inner thighs glistened under the low, flickering light. Your chest still rose and fell in uneven pulls of breath, but Sylus wasn’t even winded. He rose from between your legs with the same easy grace he always carried, like he hadn’t just buried his face between your thighs and ruined your ability to think.

But your eyes weren’t on his face anymore.

They dropped, immediately, to the sharp ridge in his slacks.

He noticed.

“Oh?” He said, head tilting with deliberate mockery. His voice was silk over steel, taunting as hell. “Didn’t even touch me and I’m already hard as a fucking rock. Look what you’ve done.”

You didn’t respond. Your eyes were too busy staying locked on the shape in his pants, the obvious, mouth-watering bulge that had your throat drying up fast. His hand brushed over it absently, fingers slow like he wasn’t just adjusting, he was posing for you. And you were falling for it.

He smirked, caught the way your thighs twitched again, how your gaze sharpened.

“You keep staring,” he said as he undid the belt. “You’ll have to deal with it.”

Then the zipper.

Then silence.

You blinked and he pulled his cock free.

Fuck.

Thick, fucking big. Long enough to stir something primal in your gut, your breath hitching instantly. It curved slightly upward, veins ridged and pronounced, tip flushed dark and already glistening with pre-cum. Even the way he held it, gripped lazily at the base, thumb stroking along the side like he was toying with your sanity was enough to make your mouth fall open.

“You gonna say something?” Sylus asked, voice smug and lazy. “Or are you just gonna keep eye-fucking it like you’ve forgotten how to speak?”

You swallowed.

“…you keep getting bigger,” you muttered, voice hoarse, low. Admitting it only made him grin wider.

He leaned forward slightly, cock in hand, brushing the flushed head against your inner thigh, not even on your clit, just there. Teasing. Letting it smear a trail of pre-cum across your skin.

“Sweetie,” he murmured, voice low, lips almost against your ear now, “you should’ve known from the attitude alone.”

You twitched.

He dragged the thick head down, slow and deliberate, nudging your slick folds just barely, just enough for you to feel how wide he’d stretch you, how deep he’d sit. But he didn’t push in. No. He just pressed his cock against your entrance and slid it upward, letting it glide through your pussy lips without ever giving you what you actually wanted.

“Still wet from my mouth,” he murmured against your neck. “Good.”

His cock rubbed along your clit again, making your hips twitch, chasing it. But he pulled back just a little, his hand gripping the base as he tapped it twice against your entrance with obscene little slaps.

“I should just make you beg for it,” he said, watching your face closely. “Should I?”

His cock was still in his hand.

Heavy, flushed, soaked now in your slick as he dragged the head through your folds again and again, testing your limits. The veins along the shaft pulsed with every lazy stroke, and every brush over your clit made your thighs jolt. Your muscles were tense, your breathing uneven, and your whole body practically buzzed with the need to be filled.

But Sylus wasn’t done playing.

“Look at that,” he said, watching his cock slide up the length of your pussy without ever sinking in. “You’re soaked. You’ll take me easy, won’t you?”

You let out a frustrated breath through your nose. Your thighs trembled with every pass of his tip over your clit. Your hands had been gripping the front seat for support, but you snapped because he wasn’t going to stop until you did something about it.

“Fuck,” you breathed, voice shaking.

You moved without hesitation, one hand flying down, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock, warm and twitching in your grip. His eyes widened slightly, not expecting the sudden move.

“Someone’s getting bold,” he murmured, but you didn’t answer. You shifted your hips, lined him up, panties already shoved to the side, cunt soaked and twitching for him, and pushed down.

The head stretched you instantly, thick and unrelenting. Your walls gripped him so tight, even the initial press in made your back arch, mouth parting in a strangled sound. You didn’t even wait, you sank further, gasping out a moan as the thick inches filled you slow, slow, deep—

“Fuck—!” you whimpered, nails digging into the seat.

Sylus groaned low under his breath, hips flexing forward instinctively at the heat of your pussy swallowing him.

You bottomed out with a broken cry.

He was all the way in. Every inch of him stuffed inside, and you could feel it, feel every twitch of his cock, feel the stretch, the fullness, the pressure so deep it made your toes curl. Your thighs trembled on either side of him, wide open, your ass just barely on the seat.

Sylus hissed a breath through his teeth, one hand gripping your waist tight. “Desperate little thing,” he growled against your ear. “Couldn’t wait, huh?”

“I’ve had enough of your teasing,” you snapped, but your voice cracked, wrecked from the feeling of him pulsing so deep inside you.

He chuckled, low. “Guess you do know how to beg. Just not with words.”

His hips shifted just enough to move inside you and your breath hitched again. You were still getting used to the size of him, how he seemed to stretch you in every direction, slow and unforgiving. You tried to lift your hips, adjust—

But his hand slammed down on your thigh, holding you in place.

“No,” Sylus said, mouth right by your neck. “You don’t get to move now. You made the choice.”

Then he pulled back just an inch, then slammed forward again, enough to make your whole body jolt.

Your moan echoed inside the car.

His cock dragged out of you slow, so slow it felt like your entire body clenched around the absence of him.

The thickness of it scraped along your inner walls like he was trying to memorize every inch of you from the inside. The veins, the curve, the stretch.. all of it made your breath choke in your throat.

Then he slammed back in.

“Ah!” You cried out, body jolting forward against the front seat, hands braced uselessly on the leather as he bottomed out again with that same unforgiving rhythm.

Sylus groaned, sharp and rough. One hand gripped your hip with bruising force, the other slid between your legs, palm flattening low on your belly just to feel the outline of himself moving inside you.

“You feel that?” He rasped. “That’s me all the way in. Fuck, you’re tight, sweetie.”

You could barely answer. The sheer stretch had your legs shaking, your pussy sucking him in greedily with every thrust. His cock was too thick, too deep, too much, and still…

Still it wasn’t enough.

You needed more. Needed him harder. Deeper.

“F-faster,” you begged, voice raw and wrecked. “Please, Sylus—deeper—just—fuck—don’t stop—!”

He chuckled low, teeth grazing the back of your shoulder. “Now you’re starting to sound like you need it.”

He pulled out again, slow and torturous, until only the thick, swollen head remained inside your dripping pussy, and then snapped his hips forward, hard. You gasped, body slamming against the seat, his cock plunging back into your soaked pussy with a filthy squelch that echoed in the car.

Your legs nearly gave out.

“You like this cock wrecking your little cunt, don’t you?” He hissed, picking up the pace, slamming in and out of you with raw, deliberate force. “Fucking dripping down my cock. Can’t believe how wet you got just from teasing.”

You were crying out now, sobbing his name between broken moans, your voice shaking every time he pounded into you. His cock curved just enough to hit your spot every single thrust, making your walls flutter tight around him like you were already about to come.

“S-Sylus—fuck—don’t stop—don’t stop—please,” you begged, voice high and desperate.

He reached forward, fisted your hair, pulled your head back with a groan in your ear. “Then say it right,” he growled, cock grinding deep, deeper, hitting your cervix with a bruising kiss.

Your knees buckled. “—please don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop!”

His grip on your hips tightened. He snarled under his breath, pace suddenly brutal now, slamming into you like a man possessed, fucking you with focused force. Your pussy clamped around him, loud wet sounds filling the car, your moans dissolving into gasps and incoherent cries as he hit that spot again, and again, and again.

“Good girl,” he hissed, hips slapping against your ass now. “You beg so fucking pretty.”

Every thrust drove you closer, while your walls clench around his cock with desperate hunger, each slam harder than the last. His free hand had found your clit again, fingers circling it in tight, furious spirals as his hips thrust deep and faster. You could feel every ridge of his cock, the way it stretched you, filled you, consumed you.

You were teetering on the edge, vision blurring. Your heart thundered in your ears.

“Sylus—please—!” you wailed, voice raw.

He groaned, a deep, animalistic sound, and pressed his thumb down hard on your clit. His thrusts became savage, pulling nearly all the way out, then slamming back in so fast your head slammed against the headrest. You could barely breathe as the overload of movement and friction set your nerves alight.

“Fuck—!” you screamed, profile pressed into the seat.

Then it happened.

Your climax ripped through you. Your back arched, thighs shaking as your pussy clenched violently around his cock. Your toes curled, your nails dug into the leather, and a hot, blinding wave of pleasure shattered you. You clamped down on him, panting, your cries echoing in the cramped car.

But Sylus didn’t stop.

He kept fucking you. Faster. Harder. His thumb rubbed your clit in maddening circles, drawing out every twitch, every ragged gasp. And as the overwhelming sensitivity made your body convulse, a warm gush of clear liquid spurted from you, wetness flooding his cock, running down, dripping off your thighs.

You couldn’t hold back. It sprayed in little jets, slick and astonishingly abundant, like you’d peed, only so much more intense, more urgent.

“Shit,” he breathed, slowing his pace only slightly, leaning forward to lap up the squelching wetness at your entrance before burying his cock all the way in again. Each stroke drove more of your release out, splattering the backseat carpet.

You hung on the edge of another orgasm, legs trembling.

He hammered into you, thumb still circling your clit, teasing the last shreds of your high.

Your second climax hit you like a punch, but no less explosive, igniting your drenched core again. You screamed, gripping the front seat so hard your knuckles went white.

He rode you through every spasm, thrusting until you were entirely spent, until your legs folded around him, until his cock felt like the only thing keeping you from collapsing completely.

Your breath came in sobs and shaky gasps as you collapsed back against the seat, utterly wrecked.

You barely had time to breathe.

Your legs were still twitching from your second orgasm, your pussy raw and soaked from everything he’d dragged out of you. But Sylus wasn’t done. His cock was still hard, still dripping with your juices, and the way he gripped your hips, it told you everything.

He was going to finish. And he was going to finish inside.

“Get back here,” he growled, dragging you by the waist again, positioning you over his lap now, your knees straddling the center console while his back leaned against the rear seat. “I’m not wasting a drop.”

Your arms trembled as you balanced on top of him. You barely managed to grab his cock, still soaked and twitching in your grip. The size of him never stopped being shocking thick, a vein running along the underside like a warning.

You didn’t ease him in. You sank down, hard.

“F-fuck—!” Your mouth dropped open as the stretch hit all over again, even more brutal now that you were overstimulated. Your pussy clenched around him immediately, too tight, too goddamn wet. He filled you up fast, his cockhead punching deep, and your walls locked around him like you didn’t want to let him go.

Sylus hissed between his teeth, jaw tight. “Sweetie, you’re still dripping. Still milking my cock like you need it.”

You could barely speak. He was buried deep. So deep you felt it in your gut. The angle made him hit everything, every nerve, every sweet spot, and you were already close again.

But he grabbed your waist, held you still.

“No,” he muttered, eyes burning red beneath his silver lashes. “I’m in control now.”

Then he slammed up into you.

Your moan shattered the air, loud and helpless. He started thrusting up into your pussy from below, forcing you to take it again, each stroke brutal and thick and fast. His grip on you tightened, one hand on your waist, the other grabbing your ass, pulling you down to meet every thrust.

Wet sounds echoed. Your arousal mixed with his precum, coating both of you in sticky heat.

“I’m close,” he growled, fucking up into you now in a punishing rhythm, teeth gritted. “You want it inside? Want me to ruin this pussy?”

You were already gone. “Yes—yes, inside—please—Sylus—fill me up—fill me—!”

That was all it took.

His entire body tensed. He shoved you down on his cock one last time and held you there, balls pressed tight against your skin.

That’s when he came.

Hot, thick ropes of cum flooded your insides, each pulse stronger than the last. His cock jerked inside you, every twitch coating your walls. You felt it filling you up, spreading deep, dripping out around his cock as your cunt clenched tight to milk every drop.

You gasped, eyes fluttering, as the sensation overwhelmed you. You could feel it leaking out already, a slow, sticky trickle down your thighs.

Sylus exhaled roughly, forehead dropping against your shoulder. “Fuck… you’re a mess,” he murmured, his voice ragged with satisfaction. “Look at you.”

You trembled against him, boneless, lips barely forming words. “I don’t care,” you breathed. “Just… keep it in.”

And he did. He kept you right there, cock still buried deep, cum still leaking slowly as the two of you sat in that ruined back seat.

He chuckled darkly in your ear.

You were still on top of him, his cock softening slowly inside you, the heat of his cum thick and unmistakable between your thighs. The windows were fogged. Your skin glistened with sweat. And neither of you had moved an inch.

You tried, feebly, to lift your hips, but Sylus just smirked and kept you there, one lazy hand sliding along the curve of your ass to make sure nothing spilled out.

“Don’t waste it,” he muttered, nipping at your shoulder with a sharpness that made you flinch. “I worked hard for that.”

You scoffed breathlessly. “You fucked like you were trying to breed me.”

“Was I successful?”

You rolled your eyes, head lolling back against the seat, until you heard it. A sound. Footsteps. Talking. A goddamn stroller squeaking by.

Your eyes shot open.

“…We’re still in a public parking lot,” you hissed, panic rushing back into your bloodstream. You tried to sit up again, but his grip was firm.

“Mmhm,” Sylus hummed, completely unbothered, eyes still half-lidded and smug. “And your legs are still open. You want them to see the mess I made of you?”

“Are you serious right now—”

A sharp tap tap hit the window.

You both froze.

Outside the passenger side window, blurred slightly by fog and cum-smear, stood an old security guard with a walkie-talkie in hand and a very pointed look on his face. He couldn’t see anything, thank fuck, but he clearly knew.

Sylus didn’t flinch. In fact, his only reaction was a slow, sideways grin.

You panicked, trying to sit up, trying to yank down your dress, but Sylus kept his hands where they were, still gripping your waist. His cock twitched once, inside you, still thick and warm.

He leaned toward the window, bare chest on full display through his open shirt.

The man outside raised a brow. Sylus raised one back.

Then? The window rolled down automatically. Sylus had pressed the button with one long finger, just for the hell of it.

“Problem?” He asked dryly.

You were dying. Dying. Hiding your face in his shoulder, wishing you could evaporate.

The security guard cleared his throat. “Sir. Ma’am. This is… not a private space.”

“I wasn’t aware she needed privacy to enjoy herself.” Sylus’s voice was velvet and violence.

The man blinked.

“I’ll give you five minutes,” he muttered finally, eyes looking everywhere except at you. “Then I expect this car out of the lot.”

As soon as the window rolled back up, you punched Sylus in the shoulder, hard.

“You’re insane! Are you proud of yourself?!”

“Immensely,” he said without missing a beat. “I made you squirt, came so deep I can feel it dripping, and now we have a witness to how shameless you are.”

Your mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

“…You’re a menace.”

He grinned, licking your shoulder once, slow and amused.

“I’m your menace.”

[everlastingserenitys]

My Summer Disaster!

summ. for one whole summer you couldn’t find the man who changed your whole night, until one job interview…

pairing. sylus x f!reader cw. boss!sylus, office sex, p in v, creampie, needy sylus, hes masked, teasing, being loud, pwp HELP, tara mentioned, fingering, hes kinda sensitive, summer fling, 2.6k wc (sobs), not proofread a/n. haven't written for my husband in a hot minute i'm sorry also im so busy I mighhtttt not post for another two weeks :(

“Please…just tell me your name” You beg, riding yourself against the mysterious man in front of you.

But he only chuckled in response and continued to ram in you, subtly changing the topic as you were too dazed to comprehend what was going on.

“Come on.. if y-you’re wearing a mask…ngh..”

You brought your fingers to the light mask resting on his face, tracing the shine that reflected through the dim light and pulled away every strand of self control you had to just pull his stupid mask off.

But when a surprise thrust awakened you from your thoughts, you immediately wrapped your hands around his large arms, nails digging deep in his skin, sinking in the flesh as you were practically holding onto him for dear life.

“Stay focused, sweetie.” He warned, a short catch of a breath caught up seconds after he said that. And it was painfully obvious he was close, but for some reason you knew he was holding back but didn’t know why he wasn’t just finishing.

“Why do you have to wear a mask—hngh I-if we're never gonna see each other after this, huh?”

The question seemed to deflate his mood and he only responded with silence before continuing, “fine then, here.” he leaned in closer and tapped on his mask, indicating for you to take it off.

And so you do, sliding the material off of his face and eyes widen at the sight, the beautiful sight of him. Silverish locks falling against his sides, red ruby iris glaring at you with a hint of something laced in them, you were so starstruck that this man wanted to see you?

“Jus’ gonna stare?” he chuckled, hands sliding down your sides and raising you up as he started sliding himself out of you, and before you could answer, another powerful thrust was sent straight through your body.

You gasp in shock, back arching at the pleasure, you could only give back murmured responses. The thing was, this man was one you’ve never seen before and to think that he’s with you for the night made you feel something.

“Well...” you mumbled, sliding your fingers through his hair, playing with the lightly damp strands before directing your fingers lower. Warm fingertips, tracing every curve of his face, lingering on the bridge of his nose for a few moments before they soon reached his plump lips.

“I mean who could not look away?” confidence laced your voice which only made you want to push your limits, tease him further.

His eyes dart to your lower body, and you could feel him twitching inside you, silently trying to hold himself back, and as much as you wanted him to hold back and keep going, your legs were aching. This was probably the third round you both were at it for.

“Now, tell me your name.” you whisper, dragging your finger even lower, stopping at Adam's apple, lightly toying with it as you watch his reaction intently, and the sounds coming out of his mouth were nothing you expected.

He ducked his flushed face, trying to pry your hand away but it seemed like he was begging for more, nuzzling his face in your hands and groaning before responding, “Sylus. Happy?” the last word came out in a low whisper and he pulled away momentarily.

“You seem pretty confident now, huh? Watch where those fingers go.” he breathed, a low chuckle slipping away moments later, and you of course didn't listen to him and slid your fingers lower and lower, until you reached the right spot, his weak spot.

A surprised moan left his lips and his grip tightened on you, increasing the pace momentarily. You dance your fingers around his collarbone and then to his chest, toying with him like he was a puppet.

His sounds grew louder, vibrating and echoing through the room at every touch. You only grin in response and continue your antics until a menacing growl escaped his lips, he peered his eyes to you, a glow of red shined at you and before you could continue any further a jolt of shock washed through you.

“Wha-”

Sylus plopped his head on your shoulder and slowly pulled out of you, his hot breath ghosting over your skin as he tried to catch his breath, steadying it in a smooth rhythm before pulling away and staring at the mess pooling down you.

“That was…good.”

You chuckle in response and fall against the bed, breathing heavily. His hands clasps your knee and he slowly spreads your legs apart leaning in closer, fingers dancing over your leaking cunt. A low whimper escapes your lips and you wrap your hand around his neck, pulling him closer.

“Worry about that later…” you mumble, nuzzling your head in the crook of his neck, not wanting to let go a second of this moment.

“Nope, let’s get cleaned first, then we can do whatever you want for the last night we have together.”

And that was the last time you saw Sylus.

Exactly one summer ago.

--

“I’m getting fired?! Seriously?”

Just when you thought your life was perfectly fine, it felt like a brick was thrown at you and luck was betraying you by the hour.

An angry sigh left your lips and you picked up your bag, walking out the building without getting an explanation as to why you got fired. But it was fine, all you had to do was get another job, it shouldn’t be hard…right?

When you get back to your house you immediately pull out your phone and call your only friend who actually put you onto that job you got fired from.

“Tara! I swear–”

“Hey, hey, calm down. What's up?” she asked, her voice filled with a hint of concern.

“I got fired,” you sigh, plopping your head on your desk as your phone rests on your ear, listening to the white noise echoing through your speakers. Tara was silent for a moment, a sound of hesitation slipped through her voice as she was trying to pick up the right words to make you feel better.

“Really?” she sighed, sadness laced over her bubbly voice and another exasperated sigh left her lips. You hum in response, about to speak but she interrupted again.

“Oh wait! I know someone you could try going to, hold on let me get his…” the rest of her words left in a haze and you weren’t sure if it was even worth going to the new job.

“Agh! I can’t find the boss's contact information but I found another person who you could ask to set an interview with.”

A text message alerted you through your phone and you decided to go along with this little experiment, only going for the interview–if you get it, and hoping you get the job.

“Thanks.”

Once the call ended momentarily, you sent over your resume and cover letter to the company and closed your laptop shut when you finished, waiting for a few days to pass.

And during those few days you were going insane by the second. You kept pacing around your room, checking your laptop every ten minutes, gripping onto your hair, the strands falling off if you pulled on it too hard, you were just going crazy.

But that feeling soon stopped when you were hanging out with Tara at a little cafe, drinking and talking about what not until a bzz vibrated through your pockets. You pulled out your phone and noticed you got an email back from the company, asking you for an interview.

“Finally!” you cheer, smashing your head against your palms as a tried, victorious groan left your lips.

“It’s only been a few days and you’ve been freaking out as if they rejected you.” Tara teased, hitting the end of her drink against your ducked head, making you flinch at the cold touch.

“Well how am i supposed to trust you after I got fired from my previous job?”

Tara only chuckled in response, biting the tip of her straw before shrugging, “I mean, why did you get fired?”

“Not sure, I left before they could explain.”

“Haha, okay. When's your interview? Wanna practice with me?” she suggested. Intrigued, you nod and get up from your seat, Tara following suit and the two of you headed back to your place.

And you practiced the hell out of those practice interviews. Tara acted like five different types of interviewers so you knew how to react with each one.

--

As you headed to your interview you couldn’t help but feel very nervous, despite practicing a bunch of times the nervous feeling kept sinking in you the closer you got to the building. And before you knew it, you were already parked in the lot.

Your fingers gripped on the wheel and you rushed out of your car, heading in the building.

Immediately you were met with a guard in a mask walking towards you, asking for your name and why you were here.

You give him your information and the eyes of his mask lit up before he nodded and started walking ahead, indicating for you to follow.

You follow the masked man and after a short walk the two of you stood in front of a fancy door, the edges of the frame tainted in a rusted gold, the doorknob shining at you as you inched your hand closer and closer to the material.

“Boss should be in there,” the masked man bowed and raised his head, nodding at the door letting you in. and the second you walked into the door you were met with a man sitting across the table with…a mask?

A mask that you swore you recognized.

You step towards the chair adjacent to the man and he waves his hand at the chair letting you take it.

A beat of silence echoed through the room before a cold chuckle vibrated through you. You peer your head up at the man and slowly tilt it to the right, there was something about the way he laughed that it was something you’ve heard before.

“Let’s get started shall we?”

And, fuck, there was no way this wasn’t the man you were with two summers ago. There was too much resemblance, the silver hair, the mask, and even the voice! It had to be Sylus, but you were way too scared to call him out.

“Okay.”

As the interview wrapped up Sylus sat back on his seat as he wrote the last few bits of information down. The silence started to grow louder, more suffocating and you were dreading for this moment to end so he could wrap up the interview and you could leave.

“Hm..”

You peered your head to the hum and stared at him with a confused look, waiting for his words to come out, and as time started to move slower, feeling like the minutes were turning to hours, and hours turning into–

“You’re hired.”

“Really Sy– I mean thank yo–”

“So you knew it was me this whole time?” he chuckled, slipping his mask off his face and got up from his seat, stepping towards you.

“You still remember me after a year?”

Sylus shrugged and stood in front of you, leaning in closer, his hot breath tickling against your skin, rosey lips ghosting over yours. Your breath hitches in response and you gulp the lump forming in your throat as you stare at his questioning gaze.

“I haven’t been with anyone after you.”

“Really?”

--

The next thing you knew, you were pinned against his desk, arms resting on the cold wood, nails digging deep in the stained material. Sylus has his hands all over you, acting like he hasn't seen you in forever, and that's exactly what was happening.

He slid his fingers along your pants, toying with the waistband before pulling them down, a light thud echoing through the room when your pants fell to your feet. He grabbed onto your waist, pulling you closer to him.

The fabric of his pants slid against your bare thighs, your legs quiver at the feeling and you instinctively rode yourself against him, pretty sounds leaving both yours and his lips and you soon felt his hand linger against your panties.

“I swear I haven't…” he mumbled, slipping your panties off and rubbing his finger against your clit, small circular motions in an unsynchronized pattern that you remembered from the last time you two were together.

“haven't–hngh what?” you tease, pushing yourself deeper on his fingers. Sylus hummed in response and slid his fingers in you, leaning in closer, sinking his teeth in your skin, making you moan in response.

“I said it already.” he mumbled against your skin, sucking on you like he was a vampire needing blood–your blood. His lips find their way creeping higher and higher on your body, soon planting them on your padded lips.

“I missed…you” he murmured against the kiss, sliding his tongue against your glossed, parted lips, his tongue soon sliding in your mouth, tongue intertwining with yours as he continued to eat you like a monster.

His hands stayed clasped around your hips and he raised you up the slightest, grinding himself against you again. One of his hands slipped away from your hips and rested on his belt, quickly unbuckling it in a quick movement before sliding his pants down.

You stare at his every move, watching as his rough, large fingers wrap around his cock, stroking himself in a quick movement as he stared into your eyes with desire.

He pulled his hand away, raising your legs above his shoulder and pressed his wet, hard tip against your leaking hole. Slowly, yet carefully sliding himself inside.

A surprised yelp escaped your lips and you could feel him twitch inside you as he continued to pound himself quicker, his thrusts filled with urgency, neediness, passion. Rather any emotion can explain the feeling of how you were getting fucked.

He continued to hold you with a steady grip, increasing and decreasing the pace, losing the pattern that was never there. He was so captivated by feeling you he couldn't help but feel addicted, way too addicted he could just…

“Fuck.” he moaned, yanking his head back as one more powerful thrust sent him to cum right inside you. Spurs of his pellucid mixture jolted through your body and it was like a wave of deja vu washing through you.

“That felt…familiar.” he chuckled, pulling out the slightest before looking back at you. You nod and he only chuckles in response.

“Wanna know why you got fired?” he asked, slowly sliding himself deeper inside you again. You moan in response and nod, and then it hit you– he had something to do with it?

“Wait– wha– ungh” you felt your whole body ripping to shreds when Sylus continued to quicken his pace on you. Your eyes peer down at the mess on the desk and you look back up at Sylus who chuckled in response.

“Of course I had something to do with it.” he laughed, making a moaning mess as he tried to find the right words to continue, but you felt too good, sputters of random nonsense started to pool out of his mouth.

You felt yourself reaching closer to release, walls flutter around his thick cock and a surprised noise escaped Sylus’ lips. He panted heavily, staring into your eyes as he watched your face twist in pleasure, looking down at the sticky mess gluing the two of you together before pulling away and plopping against your shoulder.

“Tell me everything from start to finish.” you say, tangling your fingers around his hair and lifting his head up to look down at him.

“It's nothing special except me doing a little deal with your company” he teased.

“Seriously?” you deadpan, pushing him away and attempting to lift yourself off the desk but almost collapsed.

Oh, fuck

part 10 of untamed desires | sylus -> next work