yeah, this is the first thing I draw after 927382928 years of artblock. and I just re-read the sylus series (in which sylus) fanfic on Ao3, which inspired me to draw this
and I finally satisfied with my current artstyle after trying countless of different artstyle.
Sylus sees his newborn baby’s eyes for the first time.
Sylus fluff, soft Sylus, papa Sylus 💕💕💕
I knoooow such a big jump from purring to hairbrushing and suddenly a baby??? I’m sorry my mind is all over the place >.<
I was actually inspired by an art post a few days back (which I will link down below because I think it’s nicer to see after the story) and it’s about papa Sylus holding his baby. In it, Sylus’ eyes are sooo so so soft huhu I just wanna hug him.
And I know y’all want Sylus to be a girl dad, but for personal reasons, it’s a baby boy in this story 🩵
wc: 950~
While you were pregnant, Sylus would often mention how much he wanted a mini-you. Your hair, your eyes, your smile, your everything. He would even lay his head near the precious swell of your belly, gently stroking it and asking the baby to “be good and choose your mother’s features,” to which you would laugh, ruffle his hair, and call him silly.
When the gender ultrasound revealed that it was a boy, Sylus smiled. “I only wish that he would be healthy, and would look like you, my love.”
So it was no surprise when you first saw your baby in the delivery room, crying and held up by the doctor for you and Sylus to see, that their hair is the same color as yours. Sylus, who was firmly holding your hand beside you, broke into a grin so wide.
After a quick cleaning, the baby boy is placed in your arms, and you both greet him with soft coos as he calms down in contact with your warmth. Sylus hovers closely, fixing your hair, caressing your cheek, his eyes looking at you with pride. Then, he reaches out a finger to gently stroke the baby’s head. “Yours,” he says happily, referring to the hair.
Sylus is called away to sign a few forms, and he reluctantly leaves, promising to return quickly. But in the brief moment of his absence, you saw the baby take his first peek at the world, and you smile at him in wonder. However, the baby quickly closed his puffy eyes, and it would be a while before he would open them again.
After settling in your private room, you encourage Sylus to give the baby some skin-to-skin as well, citing the benefits of close physical contact with both parents. He readily agrees, opening the buttons of his shirt, but teasing you with an arch of his brow— “if you wanted to see my body, you could have just asked, sweetie.” You make a face, to which he laughs, before coming over to hold his baby.
He sinks into the sofa beside your bed, cradling the precious little treasure against his bare chest. Sylus gently caresses the baby’s head, his finger then trailing down to the nose, tracing the quirk of their mouth, and teasingly poking a chubby cheek. “Yours, yours, and yours,” he smiles as he confirms that the boy looks just like you.
The sleepy baby is just about the length of his arm, barely a few hours old, yet Sylus is already heaping praise upon praise on him for his good wisdom to take after his mother. You roll your eyes at this. Sylus conveniently ignores it.
Perhaps curious at the familiar deep voice murmuring nearby, the baby stirs and his eyelids start to flutter as if wanting to see who it is. Sylus zeroes in on the movement, confident that the eyes would match yours too once they opened.
His expectant face, however, is abruptly turned into one of surprise. His mouth took a sharp inhale and his pupils grew wide as he held the gaze of the newborn.
Red. Staring back at him is the same vibrant color that greets him in mirrors.
Red. A striking reflection of his own, down to the exact warm shade.
Red. The heat of a cozy bonfire, the glory of blazing sunsets, the bold strokes of autumn leaves.
Red. The color of passion and determination and strength and love.
Red. His. Not like yours, but like his.
Sylus seems to have forgotten how to breathe.
It was the baby’s slow blink and soft coos, unaware of the shock he just gave his father, that reeled Sylus back.
Sylus let out a quiet laugh, his eyebrows scrunching together. He leaned down to gently press his forehead against the baby’s. “Mine,” he whispers reverently. “My baby. My son. Mine. My precious little one. It’s me, your… your papa.”
And you, a happy witness, felt your heart soften even more for the man before you. He keeps composed, though you swear you saw his lips wobble a tiny fraction.
When Sylus finally raises his head to look at you, his usual smirk is back, though his glowing eyes seem slightly watery. “He’s perfect,” he declares, standing to return the baby into your arms before wrapping you in an embrace, careful of the little one in between you. He presses a lingering kiss to your lips, then buries his face in the crook of your neck. “Thank you, my beloved,” he whispers, voice a little hoarse. “I will love you both for eternity and more.”
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Papa Syloooos ily ily ily aaaaah 💕
Red. The color of fortune!!! May fortune be with you as you pull for your main(s) in the new banner!!! Happy lunar new year to you~ 🏮
And HERE is the art by @earthsrirshaart that inspired me for this!!! Gooo check out her other works if you haven’t!!! There’s more papa Sylus and also *ahem* sexy Sylus 🤭
@abyssyby @terriblesoup I hope you guys like this one! 💕
@hachisenshi thank you for the tag in your post! Cheers to new friends!
I am so hyped for the new banner but my dias aren’t. Pls pray for this f2p player, help me manifest Sylus Shared Lanterns T_T / EDIT: I GOT HIM GUYS!!! Yaaaaaay 💕
Summary: You and Sylus have a routine. It’s one borne of months spent coexisting with one another, and one that you’ve easily grown accustomed to. Even though your life with him in the chapel is all a means to an end— an end that involves him devouring your soul— you would be lying if you said you weren’t comfortable and complacent with the dynamic. That’s why when you find him behaving abnormally in the bowels of your shared home, you can’t help but draw closer to the peculiar sight… and upon discovering the truth, there’s no stopping yourself from selfishly caving to the desires of your lust-drunk dragon.
Alternatively summarized as Sylus goes into his dragon rut and has freaky, animalistic sex with you.
Full fic is now up on Ao3 (with more diverse tags, as per usual)
Something was off.
It was hard to put your finger on what exactly it was, though. Everything within the chapel looked the same; the candelabras flickered dimly and cast dancing shadows against the walls, piles of treasures covered the ground, and the damp, wooden scent of the church pews filled the air. It was humid inside– more so than usual– and the stillness inside the chamber both unnerved and soothed you.
Your dragon was nowhere to be found.
His usual place atop the chancel at the front of the chapel was empty. You had grown accustomed to walking into the room to find him floating there listlessly– twirling a gold coin or some other bit of loot between his fingers while he hummed to himself and daydreamed. But this time, Sylus was absent as you glanced around the room, and you rubbed the sleep from your eyes as though that might help you to better locate him.
“Sylus?”
Your voice echoed throughout the cavernous room, and your call went unanswered. Strange. He was always relatively quick to come when you summoned him… where could he be?
The heels of your boots clicked softly against the marble floor as you strode to the front of the chapel. Sylus wasn’t hiding within the rows of pews, and he wasn’t behind the podium either. Maybe it was arrogant for you to assume as much, but he wouldn’t have gone out without telling you. He had been here earlier before you’d fallen asleep.
The cracked, stained glass windows behind the stage came into full view as you neared the back of the room, and you huffed in annoyance when your dragon still failed to reveal himself to you. “Sylus?” you called again, straining in your attempts to pick up on any sign of life within the church.
You couldn’t hear a thing, but suddenly a unique, heady scent flooded your nostrils.
The smell was somewhere between musky and smokey. It was too organic to be deemed soot-based, but also too bizarre to be something that was simply carried on the wind. Riding on the coattails of the fragrance was a spicy yet subtly sweet aroma that made a shiver course down your spine, and you found that as you breathed in deeply to take in more of the smell, your entire body seemed to respond to it. The hair on your arms stood straight, your stomach flipped over on itself, and one particular spot against your neck throbbed to life.
The nearly faded bite mark Sylus had bestowed upon you all those months ago felt as fresh as it had the day he’d given it to you, and you absentmindedly rubbed at it to ease the aching sensation.
Again, something was off.
“Sylus, quit ignoring me and come out,” you snapped with frustration. Agitation that hadn’t existed five minutes ago ran rampant through your veins– a sudden restlessness coming to life and prompting you to search for the silver haired dragon with newfound verve. There were only so many places he could hide within the chapel. Despite evidence to the contrary, you had a feeling he was still here. It wasn’t like him to up and vanish without a word to you, and strangely enough, that smell…
He was here. You knew it deep in your bones.
A handful of tiny rooms lined the far side of the church, so you started throwing open the doors one after another in the hopes of finding him inside of one. Four vacant closets were all you were met with, however, and you sighed loudly when the weirdly appealing scent got fainter and fainter the farther you moved away from the stage. You weren’t a dog. Following your nose seemed like the stupidest idea– especially when there was no guarantee that it was even coming from Sylus in the first place. But some inherent part of you assumed as much– no, knew as much. Whatever the fragrance was, it belonged to him.
You made your way back to the stage, reassured by the growing potency of the unique scent. There were no other doors behind the stage, nor was there any likelihood of your dragon being outside this time of night. There wasn’t a chance that you were smelling him through the windows– the very thought of it was balmy and ridiculous. But after scouring every corner, every wall, and even glancing up at the ceiling at the support beams running parallel to the floor, you found nothing.
Where the hell was he? More importantly, why were you so desperate to find him? That smell was driving you berserk.
Shaking your head to yourself, you glanced down at the floor dejectedly, on the brink of accepting defeat and returning to the curtained off alcove you called your bedchamber. But then something caught your eye– something you had failed to notice in the past due to the mountains of loot that normally covered the floors behind the chancel.
A trapdoor.
The consolidated pile of treasure that had sat on top of it before now was spread thin off to the side of the hatch. It was as if Sylus had clawed all of it aside to gain access to the lower levels of the church, the messy state of everything leaving you to believe that he had moved in a rushed, frantic manner. Odd.
The peculiarity of the situation was overlooked entirely by the sense of calm that washed over you. You had found him. The tantalizing, bewitching aroma that had called to you like a siren’s song was strongest above the trapdoor, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that when you made your way inside, you would find your dragon.
You had expected to be met with a ladder or a narrow staircase upon opening the hatch, but instead you discovered nothing. It was a straight drop down into a dark, musty abyss, but the minimal light that poured into the opening revealed that it was only about an eight foot plummet. Ripping your boots off, you set them beside the scattered pile of gold next to you, then swung your legs over the edge. The muscles in your arms screamed in protest as you slowly, carefully, eased yourself into the hole until you were dangling completely from the edge, and you suppressed the urge to scream when you let go.
To say you landed gracefully would be a lie, but there were no witnesses to counteract the claim.
It was dark down here– much darker than you had been expecting– but the skinny corridor you found yourself now standing in only led in one direction, and the enticing scent you had been chasing after for so long was stronger. You kept one hand on the side of the wall as you padded forward quietly, narrowing your eyes as you trudged deeper and farther into the unknown area of the chapel.
Before long, there was light. Flickering, shifting firelight that emanated from torches you could see at the end of the passage. As you neared the end of the dark hallway, a muffled, disembodied sound reached your ears and prompted you to halt in your tracks.
Someone was groaning. Sylus.
Your eagerness to see him couldn’t outweigh your caution, though. Silent as a wraith, you peered around the corner of the corridor and scanned the interior of the basement. At least, you figured it was a basement. A strange one with no ladder or staircase to easily access. The underground chamber was starkly different from upstairs, primarily because there were no glittering piles of gold loot or gems. It made the space look rather dull, in your opinion.
There were lots of soft things, however. Velveteen pillows, cotton throw blankets, and colorful tapestries that had been laid out to maximize the comfort one could derive from residing in such a dreary place.
In the center of the makeshift nest was Sylus.
He was sprawled out on his side with his back to you, and his long, powerful tail was curled around himself protectively. The pants he usually wore were hanging low on his hips, revealing parts of his body that you had never once glimpsed before. Your cheeks flushed in an instant at the sight, and in that moment, you considered that maybe you had made a mistake in seeking him out.
Was he ill? He was still groaning– albeit rather softly. His skin looked damp as well, as though a thin sheen of sweat covered the entirety of his figure, and– was he twitching? His arm was moving a little.
It was the thought of your dragon being sick that spurred you into motion. You stepped out of the corridor and silently made your way towards him, taking care not to make a sound so you wouldn’t startle him. Not that the chances of that happening were very high– you could never sneak up on Sylus. He had a sixth sense dedicated solely to thwarting your attempts at getting the jump on him.
Once you were roughly five feet away from him, you stopped in your tracks again. He was still letting loose choked groans and writhing slightly against the floor, but there was also something else. A wet, squelching sound that made your eyes go wide and your breathing hitch in your throat. From your vantage point over him, you were made aware startlingly fast what was contributing to the new noises.
Sylus… he had his cock clenched tight in his fist. His wrist moved furiously as he worked his hand up and down the painfully hard shaft, and from over his shoulder, you could see opaque wet stains that adorned the dark blanket beneath him.
What… what had you just walked in on?
You weren’t as careful when you stepped back as you had been while approaching. Your heel connected roughly with the ground, prompting Sylus to go rigid as his hand stilled against his cock. Then, almost in slow motion, his neck craned backwards so he could fix his narrowed, red eyes on your frozen form.
For a few heated seconds, the two of you just stared at one another. Your face was undoubtedly beet red– your lips parted as you scrambled to find the right words to speak. Did you apologize? Did you ask if he was alright? What was the correct thing to do in this situation?
Sylus, on the other hand, looked strangely impassive. Apart from the heady flush that covered his cheeks and stretched down to his chest, he seemed relatively calm. His crimson eyes– while usually sharp and piercing– were presently hooded and tired looking. They seemed to brighten when they landed on you though, and at the same time you managed to weakly croak, “I-I’m sorry–”, Sylus growled.
Shit.
Your previous assumption that he was tired went right out the fucking window in the next second. With inhuman speed, Sylus shot up from the collection of blankets to coil his arms around your waist, then hauled you down so you were half-draped, half-kneeling over him. You remedied the half-draped part of your position remarkably quickly, because for a few blood-chilling seconds, the lower part of your body had been flush to his arched cock– so much so that you had felt it pulse against you through the fabric of your dress.
Another animalistic sound reverberated through his chest as you pushed yourself up so you were no longer pressed against his sternum, but that was as far as you made it before the dragon’s arms tightened around you. “Sylus– what’s wrong with you?”
“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” His voice was low and sultry, laced with unmistakable arousal that had heat pooling in your gut. That, in addition to the inescapable scent wafting from him, was quickly making your mind feel hazy. This wasn’t normal… something was making you feel like this. Something unnatural. “I came all the way down here to keep you away from me, but you’ve ruined all my hard work.”
One of his hands skirted up your back and pressed down against your spine, forcing you to arch into him as he leaned up to bury his nose in your neck. His next intake of breath was deep, shaking both him and yourself to your very cores, and you felt his nails dig into your hips through your dress as he exhaled gruffly. “I shouldn’t have intruded,” you mumbled, bracing one of your hands against his chest to push him back. It didn’t escape your notice that the only reason you succeeded in shoving him away was because he let you. “I-I’ll leave. I’m sorry for–”
“Don’t go.”
You blinked down at him in wonder. You had never seen your dragon so… out of sorts. It was an understatement, certainly, but there was no other way to describe his demeanor. Prone atop the floor, Sylus looked up at you through his long lashes, his cheeks still violently flushed and his chest rising and falling rapidly. His arms were no longer crushing you to him, but his hands remained stubbornly planted on your waist in his attempts to hold you in place. Nevermind the fact that his cock was still out– literally a hairs-width away from your core beneath the folds of your dress.
Aside from your undergarments, there was next to nothing separating your most intimate place from his.
“I…” you trailed off, averting your stare to the corridor you had come through earlier. “I don’t think I should stay. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you’re not yourself.”
“I’m more myself than I’ve ever been,” he countered smoothly, intensifying his grip on your hips as he dug his heels into the blankets. “It’s in my nature to be driven mad with lust every few months. It’s what you might call an unfortunate side effect for my kind.”
Almost testingly, you shifted your hips back to try climbing off of him. His fingers may as well have been barbed shackles for all the good your attempt was. Puzzled, you murmured, “Side effect? Of what? Being a dragon?”
“In a vague sense, yes…” Sylus swallowed thickly as a shudder wracked his body– so fierce that you had to plant your other palm against his chest to keep yourself from toppling over. God, it was like he was drunk. He gritted his teeth together and cracked open his bleary eyes to stare at you again, and the next wave of his scent washed over you with the force of a tidal wave. “More specifically, it’s a side effect of a dragon’s rut.”
Oh.
Oh.
You had read about such things once. At the time, you had naturally assumed it was fiction– a made up aspect of equally made up fairy tales told to children before they went to bed. But considering that dragons were very much real creatures that had once rivaled mankind’s population, of course the rest of the stories would be true as well.
A dragon’s rut. A period of time when the creatures in question were inhabited by one, prudent thought above all others.
Reproduce.
“All the more reason for me to go,” you forced the words from your throat with the last bit of resolve you could muster up. Between Sylus’ branding touch against your hips and the way his scent was akin to an airborne aphrodisiac, you knew your willpower wouldn’t last long. Your affection for your dragon was a very real thing, but time after time, he had rebuffed your inquiries about his thoughts on love. Companionship to him was a foreign concept– something that went hand in hand with his solitary nature. You had made your peace with that months ago and resigned yourself to a short lifetime of simply being in his company before he inevitably devoured your soul.
Or at least, you thought you had.
It was hard to think about much of anything right now.
Sylus sighed heavily, and the sound seemed to banish a degree of his self-control. Without giving you a moment to process his moves, he sat up and flipped the two of you over, caging you against the floor between his trembling arms and sliding one of his knees between your legs. You could only gasp when he burrowed his face in the crook of your shoulder, the warm, wet feeling of his tongue laving over your pulse making your mind go blank.
“Can’t you feel it?” His husky voice was muffled against the spit-slick skin of your neck. “Can’t you feel how desperately I need you? Can you smell it?”
S-Smell it…?
You made a small sound of confirmation at the back of your throat, at which point one of Sylus’ hands began trailing up your thigh, pushing more and more of your dress up your legs. “That smell… is my pheromones. Under normal circumstances, it would attract another dragon to my side. But instead…” he nipped at your throat lightly, making you jolt underneath him as your arousal began to saturate your undergarments. “It attracted you.”
Words failed to form on your tongue as Sylus brazenly sank his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder. A cry that was equal parts pained and surprised burst from your lips, and a low, rumbling growl was the dragon’s only sound of acknowledgment. Sharp, deadly claws trailed against your thigh, the tips of his nails catching on the fabric of your dress as it was hoisted high up your legs, and the material pooled below your navel before Sylus hooked a finger under the flimsy band of your underwear.
His breath was hot against your skin when he whispered against your neck, “You’ll let me have you, right? Your soul is already promised to me, but what about your body?”
Fuck– you were positive you would agree to just about anything if it meant the ache between your legs could be sated. Every fiber of Sylus’ being oozed seduction; his handsome face, his ardent touch, his mind numbing scent. You wanted to throw caution to the wind and let him indulge in his thirst for you, because you selfishly wanted to experience everything he had to offer.
What you had witnessed upon walking into the room had shocked you, but it had also piqued your curiosity immeasurably.
You must have taken too long to respond, because Sylus pulled away from your throat with a winded sigh. The finger coiled around your underwear tugged imploringly, and when the dragon finally deigned to look at you again, his eyes were narrowed with barely there restraint. His tongue darted out to wet his plush, red lips, and it was at that moment you were able to see his hunger with startling clarity.
Against your better judgement, you picked your head up to peer down at the leaking, solid length of him. It was evident that his efforts at relieving himself earlier hadn’t done much good. One would think that the spend covering the blankets meant that he had quelled his urges, but with how hard he clearly still was, his attempts had more than likely only staved off a persistent ache.
Without thinking, you lifted a shaky hand to wrap your fingers around his cock, the entirety of it pulsing fervently in your grip. A strangled hiss slipped through Sylus’ teeth as his eyes squeezed shut at the minor stimulation your touch granted him, and you decided to take things a step further by cautiously swiping your thumb over the slick, swollen head.
Sylus let loose an animalistic snarl that tore through the room and made you jolt. Then he was moving– pulling away from your touch and settling back on his haunches so he could rip your underwear down your legs with the lone finger he gripped them with.
“God,” you gasped. You instinctively covered your exposed center with your hands and pressed your knees together, “You don’t have to be so rough.”
With feline grace, Sylus drew back farther before lowering his face so it was directly above your knees. Clawed fingers spread over the tops before gripping them firmly, and then he was pulling your thighs apart to reveal your already soaked core to himself. “Do you have any idea how delicious you smell right now?”
“I– what?” You couldn't help but stammer brainlessly, blood rushing into your cheeks in response to the sinful line of questioning. “You’re insane.”
Sylus flashed you a wicked smirk, opting to silently prove your point by descending lower, lower, until his nose was nearly touching your wet folds. Then he breathed in deeply and shuddered. “It’s like the divine essence of the gods themselves. I wonder– does it taste as good as it smells?”
Your eyes went wider than saucers. No… there was no way he was going to–
Sylus’ lips parted for his tongue, the flat muscle laving a hard, pointed stripe right up your center, and the pressure he inflicted against your clit made you keen breathlessly. “Sy– wait, what are you–”
The dragon ignored you in favor of repeating the motion again, only this time he dipped the tip of his tongue inside of you to collect as much moisture as he possibly could. The feeling was surreal; it was hot and silky all at once, the sting of Sylus’ nails digging into your thighs harmonizing magically with the pleasure of his nose rubbing against your bundle of nerves. You gasped wantonly, your mind caving to the arousal that had been dogging at your heels since setting foot in the chamber. When your back bowed off of the floor to dimly press more of yourself onto his tongue, Sylus chuckled darkly and began feasting with uninhibited restraint.
Wet, sloppy sounds came from between your legs, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed by it. Sylus certainly wasn’t. The way his mouth moved against your cunt was somewhere between calculated and arbitrary, but it was all entirely instinctual. The attention he bestowed against your clit synced perfectly with the hard, probing depths he reached with his tongue, and your head fell back against the blankets as you gasped in wonder.
“S-Sylus,” you moaned shakily. “Sylus, it feels so good.”
The dragon hummed his approval, withdrawing his tongue from your core so he could briefly suck your sensitive nub into his mouth before releasing it with an audible pop. The fleeting rush of pleasure disappeared almost as quickly as it arrived, and directly against your folds, Sylus murmured, “Tastes just as good, too. Heavenly.”
His mouth was back on you before you could think to say something stupid. With newfound gusto, Sylus shamelessly licked, sucked, and kissed whatever parts of you he could get his lips on. It was maddening– so much so that your hands blindly shot away from the floor to land in his hair. The soft strands curled around your fingers as you gathered fistfuls of the silvery locs in your grip, pressing him harder against you in some feeble attempt to steer him deeper.
Another wave of that tantalizing scent of his came over you, and you swore up and down you saw stars. It truly was heavenly, and you wanted more.
You weakly tugged at his hair to get his attention, but Sylus was too distracted to pay you any mind. He groaned eagerly and let his jaw go slack, swiping his tongue over every inch of your wet skin to collect every last drop of slick that coated it. He was positively ravenous, and you tried yanking his hair again, only harder this time. “Sylus,” came your whiny plea. “Please.”
The needy timbre to your voice prompted his crimson eyes to fly open, and he looked up at you through his long, thick lashes with unparalleled lust.
The heat of his gaze set your blood alight in your veins, and you had to swallow around a growing lump in your throat. “Please,” you repeated shyly. “I want… I want to kiss you.”
For the first time since seeing him down here, Sylus looked perplexed. It was as though the concept of kissing hadn’t even crossed his mind, which made a little bit of sense considering he was a dragon… maybe he didn’t know how? But then he licked the remnants of your pleasure from his lips and let go of your legs, pushing himself up to seductively crawl over your prone form. He braced his arms on either side of your head, staring down at you with his piercing eyes almost appraisingly.
“You want to kiss me?” he asked in that deep, sultry voice of his. “Why?”
Despite the fact that he had just been lip-locked with your most private place, the thought of having to explain your request to him seemed largely more embarrassing. “…Do dragons not kiss each other when they do this?”
He cocked his head to the side, the move so primal and subhuman that you were reminded once again that even though he looked human, he was the farthest thing from it. “How would I know?”
“Do you know how to kiss?”
His lips pressed together to form a straight line that cut across his sharp features. Was that frustration of self-consciousness you detected? You couldn’t be sure. “I don’t make a habit of bedding people, so I can’t say I’m all that familiar with the concept.”
Ah, so it was awkwardness he was subtly displaying. For some reason, the realization made you smile– but Sylus didn’t seem thrilled with your sudden amusement. He tsk’d softly and looked towards the far wall with his brows furrowed, his sharp nails catching on the fibers of the blanket as they dug into the soft material. “I don’t see what’s so funny about me not knowing your silly, human customs. They’re irrelevant to me–”
“It’s not funny,” you interjected quickly, reaching up to cup his cheeks and turn his face back towards you. This time, your smile was of the reassuring variety, but doubt still twinkled in those gemstone-like eyes of his. “You were just making a cute face, that’s all. I can show you how… if you want to, that is.”
For a moment, it genuinely looked like the dragon was going to outright refuse. His jaw hardened beneath your palms, and the unyielding, stubborn glint in his irises made you believe that he would dismiss your offer entirely. But then he moved; slowly, Sylus lowered himself down onto his elbows so his face was mere inches away from yours, his nose crinkling with a quaint sort of bashfulness that you had never seen from him before.
Was this really the same being that had shamelessly hauled you down on top of him earlier? This version of your dragon was… softer. More uncertain. You couldn’t help but find it incredibly endearing.
Still smiling, you searched his eyes for any signs of discomfort or hesitation and found none. If anything, Sylus just looked expectant. He was waiting for you to make your next move, so you squashed your fears about upsetting him and pulled his face towards yours.
The kiss was… stiff. You could feel the tension radiating throughout Sylus’ body as he processed what you were doing, and in an attempt to get him to loosen up, you trailed one of your hands away from his cheek to cup the back of his neck. Your nails scratched lightly against the base of his skull and pulled a barely there groan from him– at which point you decided to be bolder.
Opening your mouth, you traced Sylus’ bottom lip with your tongue before probing cautiously at the seam– silently asking for him to grant you access. He took his time catering to your request, eventually relenting once he pieced together what it was you wanted, and the wet muscle swept through his mouth greedily. The dragon tasted of something smokey and sweet all at once– the flavor not all that different from the scent he’d been steadily giving off. It danced on your tastebuds marvelously, a tiny moan slithering free from your throat, and the minuscule sound seemed to spark something within Sylus, because he was kissing you back in the next instant.
His own tongue wrapped around yours as the pressure from his lips increased. Each of his movements was colored with a tinge of uncertainty, but it seemed to be mostly fueled by his desire to experiment. He wanted to get it right. He wanted to learn.
Pleased by his vigor, your hand on the back of his neck curled into a loose fist around his hair. Sylus made a sound– something halfway between a moan and a sigh– and you stole your opportunity to playfully bite at his bottom lip. You felt his back tense abruptly, his mouth halting its movements against yours, and you opened your eyes in a panic to see if you had accidentally done something wrong.
Sylus’ face was a blur as he quickly pulled away to knock your arm to the floor, pinning your wrist beside your head in one quick motion before he was back on you. Suddenly it was like he had known how to kiss all along; his mouth was everywhere. He sucked wetly on your bottom lip, then peppered hot, open mouthed kisses along your jaw, and finally surprised you by tugging at your earlobe with his sharp canines.
Maybe biting held a similar meaning to kissing for dragons, because you were quickly realizing that Sylus enjoyed having his teeth on you.
“S-So?” you stammered softly, tilting your head to the side to give him easier access to your neck. Sylus latched his lips over your pulse point to bite and suck at the skin there, your lashes fluttering in response to the sting, and it took a herculean effort for you to voice the rest of your question without groaning. “Did you like it?”
“It’s strange,” he muttered hotly against your throat. “But then again, so are humans. I could get used to it.”
It was as close to approval as you were going to get with him, so you hummed in acknowledgment and let your eyes drift shut. Sylus’ nails bit into your wrist with alarming strength– his full weight settling against you more and more as he dropped his hips so they were flush with yours– and you felt the wet, heavy length of his cock rest tellingly against your pelvis. Its mass should have scared you, especially considering you had already seen how big it was when you’d walked in on him earlier, but instead of apprehension taking root in your gut, you only felt the exhilaration of arousal.
The arm at your side slid coyly between your bodies so you could delicately stroke his shaft. Sylus’ breathing hitched in his throat, and when you teasingly ghosted the tip of your finger over the leaking head, he jolted. His gruff voice vibrated directly against your jaw when he lifted his head and growled, “I don’t think those priests were wrong for accusing you of being a sorceress.”
“Oh?” Your brow quirked up questioningly, your finger dexterously tracing featherlight shapes over the tip of Sylus’ cock. “Why is that?”
“Because you’re wicked.” His crimson eyes narrowed as he released your wrist to trap your hand to his shaft with blind precision, forcing the entirety of your palm to press against his member, and the sound he made at the stimulation was nothing short of perfection. The corner of his mouth curled as he purred, “What sinful little spells are you casting on me, hm? I can’t seem to get enough. You make me greedy.”
“Bold of you to talk about spells when you’re the one reeking of those phero-whatevers.”
“I can’t help that. You, on the other hand…” He buried his nose in the junction of your neck and shoulder, laving his tongue over the fading bite scar he had left there a lifetime ago before whispering against it, “For how insistent you were about leaving, you’re enjoying this quite a bit.”
To say your mind was swimming in lustful thoughts would be a monumental understatement. Even though Sylus wasn’t looking at you, you were positive he could hear your innermost desires. Over and over again in your head were iterations of “More” and “Take me”. How many times since meeting the dragon had you fantasized about exactly this happening? Not the rut part– that had taken you by surprise– but the rest of it?
You were a fool to believe that you had dealt with your unrequited feelings for Sylus. Maybe he would come to regret this moment later on when his rut was over, but that would be a problem for future-you to deal with. Right now, you wanted nothing more than to cave to your baser instincts and for Sylus to cave to his. You wanted him to fuck you within an inch of your life and finally help scratch the itch that had been hounding you for months.
Emboldened by your internal acceptance, you laughed airily and did the only thing you could think of in that moment; you squeezed his cock imploringly, turning your head towards the sound of his guttural moan so you could murmur directly in his ear. “I’ll give my body to you, Sylus. So hurry up and do something with it.”
The next sequence of events happened so fast that you could barely comprehend them. Sylus growled and yanked you upright, his clawed fingers raking down the back of your dress and tearing the fabric open so he could free you from it. There was a muted stinging sensation against your spine where his nails had broken your skin, but that hardly seemed important when you caught sight of the ravenous, insatiable hunger on the dragon’s handsome face. Your breasts spilled out in full view as the attire pooled in a messy heap around your waist– though it didn’t stay there for long. It was soon ripped away and haphazardly tossed to the side of the room without a second glance, and then Sylus was pushing you back against the blankets.
Heavy, panted breaths sounded from him at an almost concerning pace. You blearily watched as he shoved his pants lower– evidently too impatient to take them off all the way– before one of his hands appeared against the underside of your jaw and forced you to look him square in the eyes.
“Don’t look away,” he instructed sternly. His hand remained where it was until you nodded, and only then did he release your face and plant his arms on either side of your waist to support himself.
The first bump of his cock against your entrance made you jump, but you followed his directions to the letter and kept your stare trained evenly on him. His right eye began to glow softly– the vibrant red stark against the flickering torchlight that illuminated the room– and he smirked to himself as he languidly slid his shaft tauntingly between your folds. “I knew it,” he growled. “You do like this.”
Patience was a forgotten thing as Sylus abruptly pressed into your cunt, your mouth falling open around a long, drawn out moan that shook the walls of the chamber. He was huge. It was unreal how thick he felt breaching you– the very air in your lungs stolen from you as your body instinctively tensed. Sylus bared his teeth as his eyes formed into thin slits, the heady flush decorating his skin deepening into the same shade as the gem centered on his chest as he stilled his hips. Something told you that it wasn’t for your benefit, though.
He looked like he was on the verge of losing control completely.
“Relax,” his head dipped between his shoulders to creep closer to yours, and a glimmer of something new in his eyes caught your attention.
Affection.
You stood corrected… maybe he was waiting for you.
“S-Sorry. You’re…” you swallowed thickly and planted your palms down on the blankets. “It’s really big…”
“It’s only going to get bigger, so don’t hold your breath like that.”
It was going to what? Your eyes went comically large, and his guideline to keep your gaze on his was momentarily forgotten as you looked down to where the two of you were connected. He wasn’t even all the way in yet! “You’re not serious, are you?”
Annoyance flashed across his face, his arms trembling with restraint as he held himself back from moving any further. “I don’t joke. Now breathe.”
You did as he asked, sucking in a shaky breath through your nose that rewarded you with a dizzying rush of his delectable pheromones. The aroma shot through you like a bolt of lightning, striking you deep in your loins and prompting your body to practically melt against the floor, and Sylus sighed above you as he felt your walls flutter around his cock. There had to be some sort of magic attributed to your reaction to the scent, because any discomfort you had felt previously was now nonexistent.
“Good,” Sylus rumbled proudly. One of his clawed hands lifted away from the floor to tilt your chin up, directing your eyes back to his as he shifted his hips forward ever so slightly. Inch after inch of his member slid home within your cunt, and even though your brain wanted to remain hung up on how mind-boggling the stretch was, you forced yourself to keep breathing. Whatever innate magic his pheromones performed on your body was working perfectly.
It didn’t take long for you to feel the hot, sweat-slick skin of his pelvis go flush against the backs of your thighs. Fully sheathed within your walls, Sylus groaned roughly and planted the hand under your chin beside your head. It was no secret that your dragon was strong; his large, toned body was littered with scars and lined with bulging veins that spoke volumes of his physical prowess. But being wholly beneath him like this– staring up at his broad shoulders, his thick neck, and watching the muscles in his arms shift beneath his skin– it made you feel incredibly small.
He was giant.
The realization also amplified your arousal tenfold, for some strange reason. Or maybe it was just his smokey scent diluting your mind with such corrupt thoughts. Either way, you allowed yourself to enjoy the sight of his powerful body moving over you as he grabbed your waist and reared his hips back again. Then without a moment of hesitation, Sylus slammed his cock into you, and your vision flashed white as a cry tore from your lips.
“F-Fuck, Sylus–”
He didn’t relent. Low, guttural sounds emanated from deep in his diaphragm as he pounded into you again, and again, and again. Sylus set a brutal pace right from the get-go, thrusting deep inside of your cunt with animalistic ferocity that reminded you how desperate he actually was. Having succeeded in his efforts to relax you, he had completely surrendered to the throes of his rut– grunting and snarling and digging his nails into your flesh as he practically pulled your body against his with every plunge of his cock.
It was an iniquitous display, but you relished in it all the same.
You were completely beside yourself. Your hands fisted in the stained blankets beneath you to hold on for dear life, your mouth falling open to let out loud, stuttering moans. You wanted to rock your hips back into Sylus’ movements, but at some point during the split second his cock withdrew all the way to the tip again, he’d manhandled your bottom half off of the floor. With your shoulder blades digging into the ground and your ass elevated in his bruising grip, the most you could do was writhe fitfully against the makeshift nest.
“Sylus, Sylus–” you gasped, your eyes rolling back when the head of his shaft struck something deep. Whatever it was, it had you seeing stars, and you desperately needed for him to do it again. “Sylus!”
You were met with a feral growl from him, his back hunching over as his hips snapped forward and punched another grating cry from your hoarse throat. Your spine arched more and your legs tensed on either side of his hips, and you heard your dragon huff brutishly before he was lowering your rear back to the floor. With quick, pointed movements, Sylus’ nails dragged along your thigh as he slung one of your legs over his shoulder, then pressed the other one against the blankets to spread you open obscenely wide. Then he was fucking into you again– so hard and so fast that it seemed like it shouldn’t be possible. The slap of his hips against your flushed, marked ass was loud, but it was completely overpowered by how shrill your screams were.
It was everything you’d wanted. Probably more so, because Sylus was ramming into you with insane stamina– moaning and growling and savagely marking your legs with his nails. You didn’t even have the brain power to beg for more. Every time he pulled back and left you nearly empty, he was fucking you open again not long after, the force of his thrusts jolting you along the floor and making a crumpled mess of the blankets beneath you. To further indulge your debauchery, you threw your hands over your head to try to find something– anything– to push against so you could rut back into Sylus’ cock, but all you managed to do was shove pillows and covers farther away.
Sylus chuckled darkly above you– a sound that made your stomach flip over on itself with how suggestive it was. His eyes were narrowed with pleasure, a half-smirk pulling at the corners of his cheshire-like lips, and he had the audacity to fucking hum, “If you want more, little sorceress, you’re going to have to beg me for it.”
God, did you ever. You wanted everything Sylus had to offer. In the time you had known your dragon, you had become an insatiable, greedy woman– shameless in your pursuit to fulfill your neverending desires. Seeing as you had already given him your body and your soul, there was no point in considering the cost. No price was too high to pay for pleasure like this.
“P-Please,” you croaked dryly, your voice garbled and raspy from shouting so much. “I want more. Please, give me more, Sylus.”
To your horror, Sylus slammed into you and stilled his hips completely, holding himself annoyingly still as he leaned forward so his face was a hairs-width away from yours. The angle practically bent you in half, but you weren’t given any time to dwell on it before he was murmuring, “You can do better than that. I know you can.”
The burning ache in your loins started to transform into a dull, unsatisfied throb, and you keened needily at the lack of stimulation. It was torture. You were certain you looked crestfallen, because Sylus grinned wickedly at whatever expression spread across your face and continued to hold his hips still.
Fine. You would give the conniving bastard exactly what he wanted, but you would make him pay for making you wait. In an act of complete submission, you licked your lips and bared your throat to him, then used your lower muscles to tighten your innermost walls around his pulsing cock.
Sylus’ reaction was instantaneous; his mouth fell open around a stuttering groan, a violent shudder rolling over him and prompting his nails to dig into your skin harder, and his half-lidded eyes seemed to bore deep into your very soul when he fixed them on you. “You…”
“Come on, Stayrus. My dragon, please– I want more. I want you to give me everything,” you pleaded brazenly, reaching down to wrap your fingers around his thick wrist where it was still planted against your pinned knee. You knew you would get what you wanted just from using his real name alone, but you still decided to add fuel to the fire. “It hurts, doesn’t it? So don’t wait anymore– just take what you want. I’m yours, Sylus, all yours.”
Sylus’ crimson eyes went dark as his pupils dilated, only a thin ring of red showing before a ferocious sound came from deep in his chest. You were moderately surprised when he chose to close the gap between the two of you to kiss you again, although it was far from a gentle affair. Sharp canines clamped down on your bottom lip as Sylus bit and sucked at the soft bit of skin until you tasted iron, and then his own tongue darted out to lave over the tiny wound.
“Mine,” he growled, his mouth descending lower to plant one lone bite against the same spot he had months earlier. “All mine.”
The potency of his declaration was overshadowed by how fast he reared his hips back before slamming them forward again. More of Sylus’ weight pressed down on the leg he held against the floor, but only for a moment. Just as the pressure started to border on painful, he snatched the limb up and tucked it against his side, pinning it there with his arm so your lower half was completely restrained at his mercy. When he deigned to start pounding into you again, you were almost tempted to start praying.
Sylus held you securely in his grip in an act of complete possession, fucking into you harder and faster as his long, firm thrusts transformed into deeper ones accompanied by grinding rutting. The new position drove the swollen head of his cock against that same spot from before– so fast and so intense that it almost knocked you out. Your throat felt raw as you threw your head back and cried out his name, the sheer ecstasy overtaking you comparable to nothing on this Earth. Your brain was melting as you burned hotter, the knot of pleasure in the pit of your stomach constricting more and more, and Sylus let loose a loud, rumbling groan when your cunt started to clamp down on his cock.
Wait, no. It wasn’t that you were tightening around him… he was getting bigger.
You could feel your walls stretching wider with every toe-curling thrust Sylus bestowed upon you, and your startled gasp was muted by the sordid sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin. “Sy– I– Sylus, w-wait–”
“I can’t wait anymore,” he snarled viciously, his head falling back between his shoulders and sending strands of silvery hair across his forehead. “Fuck, you’re intoxicating.”
There was no way you were imagining it; the base of his cock was swelling. Your body was left with no choice but to conform to the new shape entering it at a rapid, mind-numbing pace, and your next breath was cut short when he struck that sensitive, spongy spot deep inside of you again. “Sylu– ah!”
“Breathe,” he commanded sharply, his lust-dark eyes boring down on you as his grip on your legs turned bruising. You could see the litany of scratches that covered your thighs and your hips now that he was holding you up, but the only thing you could wholly focus on was how full you were quickly becoming. If he had been big before, now he was massive. His eyes pinched shut, and it seemed like he had to force the rest of his sentence out through sheer force of will. “Just breathe– you can handle it.”
You begged to differ. It felt insane– like his cock was swiftly taking up any remaining space inside your body and making it impossible for oxygen to reach your lungs. You still tried, though. Through your nose and your mouth, you inhaled as deep as you were able, the air tinged with Sylus’ familiar smokey-sweet scent. His pheromones. The aroma somehow helped your body to relax, and your abdominal muscles untensed enough that the stinging stretch of your cunt shifted into something more enjoyable.
It was a dizzying sensation, and Sylus stared down at you unblinkingly as your expression went from alarmed to serene. “That’s it… good girl,” he groaned, punctuating the praise with a harsh buck of his hips. “You fit me so well, little sorceress. It’s like you were made for me.”
If you could form words at all anymore, you would have wholeheartedly agreed. You were made for him. You were his, and he was yours– your dragon. A cacophony of sinful noises spilled from Sylus’ open mouth as he spread his knees to give himself better leverage, fucking into you so fiercely that you knew he was close. The swollen base of his cock steadily grew larger, the stretch so absurd that you blearily wondered if your body would be able to revert back to its natural state when all was said and done. The thought was fleeting and irrelevant, however, as you were reduced to a drooling, boneless wreck in response to his blunt head assaulting your sweet spot over and over and over.
It was pure rapture– absolute euphoria– and the tight coil in your gut that had been on the verge of snapping for far too long finally came undone.
You wailed as you came, though there was a fairly good chance that any words you tried to speak were unintelligible. It was like your entire being– body, mind, and soul– ascended to some higher plane as your climax crashed over you. Between Sylus’ scent flooding your head and his brutal pace growing faster, it felt like you came and then kept coming. Your legs shook in his arms, and Sylus swore viciously as he held you through all of it.
After a few strained thrusts, Sylus followed you right over the edge. He fully sheathed himself within your trembling walls and roared, his voice echoing throughout the cavernous room so loudly that you knew if anyone were upstairs inside the chapel, they would have heard him. Through the waves of pleasure that rolled over you, you became keenly aware of the base of his cock swelling within you, and the uneven thrusts that had followed his animalistic cry transformed into shallow grinding.
He was locked in place. You could feel your body enveloping his girth– stretched so tight around him that the tiniest movements made you whimper and twitch beneath him. You could never have anticipated something like this happening when you’d walked in on him earlier, but you were having a difficult time regretting your impulsive decision to seek him out.
Sylus pressed his hips against you harder, a telling warmth spreading deep within you, and suddenly there were no thoughts you could formulate. Your voice was barely more than a choked whisper when you stuttered, “G-God…”
Sylus had to take a moment to gather his bearings, his eyes clamping shut firmly before cracking open to reveal his crimson irises in their entirety. Then with the utmost care, he slid your legs off of his shoulders and lowered them to the floor. It was almost embarrassing how aggressively they trembled, but he didn’t pay any mind to your shaking. His muscular arm was like a steel band as it coiled under your back to lift you from the blankets, and then he tipped himself sideways against the mountain of pillows before situating you comfortably on top of his chest. You were dead weight against him with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, your arms and legs completely boneless, but you were well aware of his cock still pulsing inside you.
With how swollen it had become, you knew it wouldn’t be leaving you any time soon.
Sylus’ heavy breathing eventually became softer and more controlled, at which point he lifted an arm to lightly trail his nails up and down your spine. It was soothing, and you shivered and sighed against him while your brain gradually started working again.
“I told you it would get bigger,” Sylus remarked dryly, his deep timbre reverberating through your spent body.
Unable to stop yourself, you huffed out a short laugh. Your lips brushed against the skin of his throat as you muttered, “You could have been more specific. I didn’t realize you meant it would grow like that.”
His fingers against your back halted for a split second, and silence filled the room for a few beats. Then softly, Sylus murmured, “Does it hurt?”
The genuine concern in his voice prompted you to crack your eyes open. Beyond the broad expanse of his chest you found yourself lying on, you couldn’t see anything… namely his face. You wondered what sort of expression he was making as he asked about your wellbeing, but you were still so limp that you couldn’t be bothered to sit up to check for yourself. “No. It was a little uncomfortable at first, but breathing helped.”
“Remember that the next time you think about not listening to me.”
Now you were really glad you weren’t looking at him, because you were positive he wouldn’t appreciate the way you rolled your eyes. “Whatever…” you sighed softly and shifted your hips a little, trying to gauge how much movement you were allowed with Sylus’ cock still stuffing you to the brim. Flushing red at the feeling, you asked, “How long do we have to stay like this?”
He hummed thoughtfully, the tips of his fingers trailing higher and higher up your spine until they reached your hair. He carded through the strands lightly and shrugged, “Don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? Am I supposed to stay like this all night?”
Sylus shrugged again, and you had to fight the urge to use what minimal strength you had left to smack him upside his horned head. “It varies from dragon to dragon. I’ve never knotted before– much less a mortal. You may as well get comfortable and try to sleep. You’ll need your energy for later.”
Later? Your heart skipped a beat, and you finally lifted your head from its resting place to stare down at Sylus with wide, questioning eyes. “Why? What’s happening later?”
The smirk he flashed you was nothing short of sacrilegious. His otherworldly eyes crinkled at their corners, and the wicked edge of his sharp incisors glinted against the flickering torchlight within the chamber. “Don’t tell me you thought this would end so soon? How naive of you.”
Your pitiful squeak was enough of an answer; you had absolutely assumed he would be sated after going at it like a ravenous beast the one time.
Sylus wrapped his arms around you to haul you back down against his chest, a rumbling sort of purr vibrating through you at the same time his trademark scent graced your nose again. You were hardly of a mind to protest– not that you wanted to, by any means– so you let him soothe your nerves and calm your mind in that unique, atypical way of his. Turning his head so his lips brushed against your ear, Sylus said, “Allow me to remind you that it was your idea to seek me out down here. It’s only the first day of my rut, and you’ve already gone and promised me your body.”
You swallowed thickly, your lashes fluttering against the warm skin you were pressed against. “I did…”
The throaty chuckle that sounded from him had heat pooling in your veins all over again. Sylus playfully nipped at your ear, his fingers wrapping around the nape of your neck as he whispered, “Rest well, little sorceress. It’s your turn to fulfill my desires, and I have no intention of letting you go until I’ve been completely satisfied.”
synopsis: you and sylus play a game of cat and mouse.
tags: predator/prey, primal play, rough sex, sensory deprivation (blindfold), semi-public sex, established relationship, established kink, tracking (mephisto), begging, biting, licking, struggling, manhandling, marking, coming inside/breeding, light evol use, mocking, slight body worship, crying, destruction of public and possibly private property, a blink of aftercare and then fucking until dawn. some previously consented rules listed in italics throughout
pairing: sylus x fem reader (reader referred to as “girl”)
word count: 4.6k
a/n: i tried to tag everything, as you can see. this was nowhere near high priority on my calendar originally but i genuinely do think i need to practice writing smut
Linkon City is known for its nightlife.
Bustling crowds flooding the streets, sweeping stragglers up in their revelry. Glittering neon signs stacked on top of each other, so garish that passersby never know where to look. Thumping bass and the piercing bleats of car horns, constant and deafening.
The perfect place to run. The perfect place to blend in.
Your feet ache as they thud erratically across the pavement. They take the lead in steering you tonight—your wide, unfocused eyes are much too busy playing lookout.
Around every corner, you think you spot him. A tall frame, a steady gait, a knowing smirk on a chiseled face.
Around every corner, you’re relieved to be mistaken.
You’d started as soon as the sun had set. Blood pumping through your veins, heart racing as you threw wary glances over your shoulder. 20-minute head start.
And oh, had you used it. Darting off in one direction, only to circle back and slink away in another. If you had any chance of making it through the night, you had to be everywhere and nowhere, all at once.
Anxious pangs propel you forward, past streetlights and food stalls and closing shops. A baritone laugh—no, not him—and your gut roils with unease.
For just one second—all you can afford—you falter.
To your left, the menswear store with the crooked mannequin out front. Didn’t you already pass it a while ago?
Traitorous wisps of fatigue, unwelcome and insidious, lick at your stumbling heels.
You’ve been out for too long.
Quickening your pace, you scour the busy strip, looking for somewhere, anywhere, that you can rest for a moment.
The simple dive bar at the end of the street fades into view like a desert oasis. When your eyes settle on its browning bricks, eroding walls, and the bright green sign that flickers like its life is near its end, you allow yourself to feel a glimmer of hope.
When rowdy college students trickle out the doors and the sour scent of cheap beer wafts through the air, that hope only burns brighter.
Never, even on his worst day, would he be caught dead in there.
Relief soars in your chest. It’s perfect.
The beer really was cheap, according to the yellowing menu on the counter in front of you.
The bartender, young and heavily tattooed, nods in greeting. “What can I get you tonight?”
You skim the limited options with disinterest. “Just a water, please.”
“Not many people come here just for water. There’s a vending machine across the street, you know.”
Smiling sweetly, you reach into your pocket. The bartender’s eyes bulge when you deposit a neatly packed wad of cash on the table. Take it with you—no buts. Use all of it if you have to. “Will that cover it?”
“Coming right up,” she squeaks.
As she whips around to grab a clean glass, stumbling over her own feet, you take the moment to survey the lackluster interior. A row of wobbly stools, mismatched posters on the walls, a pool table that looks like it’s seen better days.
It’s hideous in here. And for you, right now, that’s beautiful. Your heart feels lighter already.
Suddenly, a figure slides into the stool to your right. “Hey, you here by yourself?”
He’s a blond, lanky college-aged kid. Not too drunk, by the looks of it, which is better than the alternative.
“I’m waiting for my boyfriend.” The answer is evasive, but not untrue.
He leans back immediately. “Oh, sorry. I’m here with mine, too. I was just checking in on you—too many girls come here alone.” He shifts his eyes around. “It’s not the safest of places, you know.”
But for you, at this moment, it is. “Well, thank you for checking. You’re very sweet.”
“No problem. While I’m here, can I get you anything?”
Smiling softly, you shake your head. “Oh, no, I’m not drinking tonight.” Just as the words leave you, the bartender slides your glass across the counter, not-so-discreetly palming the cash off the surface.
The boy nods. And behind him, you swear you spot a flash of silver hair.
No. There was no way. No way in hell that he’d—
Glasses and a round nose. Not him.
Relaxing your tensed shoulders, you breathe a sigh of relief. But all fantasies of this place as one of refuge dissipate.
Nerves alight, you dig out your cell and spare a flighty glance at the lock screen. Phone on you at all times.
Precious minutes have slipped through your fingers. You have to keep moving.
Cursing, you down your water and hop off your stool.
“That…was not a very long visit,” the boy says in obvious confusion. “You didn’t wanna stay for a while?”
You grimace as you lay an apologetic hand on his shoulder. “I don’t really have a while right now. It was nice meeting you.” Then, with a slight tip of your head, you head for the back exit.
The air has cooled since you were last outside.
Rubbing your hands over your bare biceps, you shiver as you stalk forward, ready to vanish into the night once again.
“You really should try harder, sweetie.”
Your foot hovers mid-step.
Behind you. To the left, somewhere. Not many more than a few paces.
Slowly, you turn.
Polished leather shoes are the first thing you see. Fitted slacks that swell at the thighs, a shining silver belt buckle, a dark button-up under an expertly tailored overcoat.
His sharp face is illuminated in the warm streetlight.
Attentive red eyes subtly check you for injuries. When he finds none, a self-satisfied grin spreads across his lips.
He opens his mouth again. But before he can speak, you spin on your heels, nearly smacking straight into a passing couple.
A full, sonorous laugh, rich and mocking, echoes between your retreating footsteps.
You’re more than a little unnerved.
Sylus—infallible, inevitable Sylus—had stood there, still and smirking, while you ran from him like he was a monster.
Why had he let you get away?
Sweat beads at your hairline as you slip through crowded sidewalks, heart thumping as loud as the bass in the background.
Wiping your brow, you stare longingly at the distant tree line, wishing you could take the chance and disappear into the woodland. But alas, stay inside the city limits.
Frantic footfalls take you to a sparse street, the city’s soundtrack fading behind you. On your right is a modern train station—open, but deserted in the midnight slowdown.
Your stomach starts to tighten from your constant movements. But with a determined shake of your head, you push forward.
Until the unmistakable, eerily perfect call of a crow sounds from above.
He’s right on top of you.
“And no Mephisto,” you proposed, knowing full well he’d argue.
His scoff was immediate. “I don’t think so.”
“But that’s not fair! I won’t even have a chance if you get to use him. I’ll be a sitting duck out there!”
“You won’t be out there at all if I don’t use him. I won’t risk your safety just so you can feel the thrill of evading me for a little longer.”
You opened your mouth to protest again, but he caught your jaw in his hand.
“This one is nonnegotiable, kitten. Mephisto stays.”
And now, his master is toying with you.
You should have negotiated.
The flapping of wings sounds overhead. In a panic, you look back to the train station, weighing your options in your scattered mind. No public transit.
You step toward it.
No public transit.
Another caw. Closer.
No public transit. No public transit. No public transit.
The rule blinks in your mind like a warning light as you disappear through sliding doors.
Since you’ve been with him, you’ve been no stranger to luxury hotels.
You don’t know why you fled to this one. Maybe it’s the familiarity—you’d stayed here twice before. But you’d never ventured up to the rooftop lounge. Not until tonight.
Ducking under velvet ropes, you take in the lavish setup. Cocktail tables and plush seating decorate the space, with tea light candles and white floral arrangements scattered throughout. Someone’s hosting an event here. Soon, by the looks of it.
Inching forward, you pass a sign painted in beautiful calligraphy. Tom & Katie’s Engagement Party!
Tomorrow’s date, big and bold, sits underneath.
You’ll be gone before then. In and out, without a trace.
You’d chosen the roof for two reasons: one, if—when—he comes, you’ll be able to see him well in advance. And two, not even that incorrigible crow can sneak up on you now.
Nodding shakily, you step to the center, your attention stolen by a small photo frame.
A shift. An electric charge in the air.
A hand around your nape.
“Caught you.”
In an instant, you lurch forward, barely suppressing the blood-curdling scream that rises in your throat. His hand slips from your neck as you attempt to flee, only to splay across your heaving ribcage as he corrals your body flush against his.
Cautious as he is, his grip is firm, unyielding. But that doesn’t mean you’ll just give up like this, fall limply in his arms without a fight. You truly are a caged kitten as you thrash in his grip—a flurry of fists and elbows flailing wildly in the air. You’re not sure a single hit lands.
The threat of conquest looms with each passing second. His strength is unimaginable, the way he swiftly pins your arms to your sides with only a few annoyed grunts, as if your perseverance were merely a nuisance to him. An obstacle for him to surmount.
He restrains your limbs with just one hand, his thumb firmly encircling both forearms against your clenched belly. As he leans downward, excited breaths brushing the shell of your ear, something long and hard and familiar prods your lumbar spine.
“Playing with cornered prey is…tedious.” The words are a flippant, smug purr. He’s a lion that’s returned from a fruitless hunt, only to find a lost fawn in its den. “I’d much rather you conserve your strength. You’ll need it.”
Anger flares at his assumption. Baring your teeth, you thrash against him again, but his power quells all protest. And with the way he pulses behind you, you’ve only made him more eager to consummate his victory.
His free hand returns to snake around your throat, petting your feverish skin with hungry affection. Chuckling deeply, he raises it just to your jaw, circling two tantalizing digits around your mouth. It’s crude. Mocking. But it’s the opening you need.
Parting your lips, you let his fingers slide onto the pad of your tongue, closing around them with a servile moan. Then, with a sudden snap forward, you sink your teeth into his prone flesh, just enough to leave an angry red imprint. Immediately, a harsh rumble sounds in his chest, the rippling waves against your spine a beacon of hope in your heart. If you’re lucky, he’ll let you go.
But where you pray Sylus will flinch, pull back, do anything that will give you space to breathe, he only pulls you impossibly closer, lifting your head with his wounded hand.
His eyes gleam with wicked delight. He leans down, brushing his nose to yours, feigning a pout as he tightens his grip on your chin. “If this is how you show thanks for my mercy, I can’t wait to see what you’ll do when I get mean.”
A suppressed whimper. Another failed thrash. And Sylus sighs with false sympathy, pressing a lewd, lasting kiss to your scalding cheek.
“You’re so nervous, sweetie. Anxious animals often calm themselves when their eyes are covered. I wonder if you’ll do the same?”
The words have barely hit the air before you’re plunged into darkness. With strong arms still subduing you, a strip of fabric secures itself around your eyes, leaving you blind and vulnerable to his whims.
So much for no Evol.
His skin is hot. He smells of spice and fading cologne. And when he whispers in your ear, asking you how you feel now, the tip of his tongue hits the roof of his mouth with a sinful crackle. As if he's drawing out his dominance. Savoring it.
Before long, you’re being maneuvered in his hold. Gathered and hoisted.
Confident footsteps rattle the rooftop.
You’re falling. Something soft hits your back. By the divots between cushions, it’s the oversized sectional you'd seen before your world went dark.
You feel around the plush fabric for his hard, unwavering body. You snarl when you come up short. “Take this off! Take it off.”
Somewhere before you, he tuts. “I was going to take my time with you, sweetie. But if you insist…”
Nimble hands sweep down your body, tugging your pants off with practiced ease. A choked gasp leaves you at the sudden movement, the cold night air nipping at your bare legs.
You swipe wildly at an invisible target. “You know that's not what I meant!”
“You’re not exactly in the position to be making demands right now.” Amusement bleeds through his tone. “There’s a much better use for your current…situation.”
The unsettling weight of his Evol lands on your shoulders, pulling and laying you flat on your back. A quiet thud sounds on the stony floor. Several beats of silence.
And then, a hot tongue swirling on the inside of your ankle, soft lips sucking on untouched skin.
“Sylus,” you hiss, failing to jerk away thanks to the heavy hand on your calf.
He only hums dismissively, set on continuing his journey upwards. Slowly, methodically, he trails open-mouthed kisses and teasing nibbles over your calves, your knees, your thighs, ghosting a feather-light peck on your clothed core when it comes within reach. Throbbing with need, you hold back a whine when he stays his course, his eager lips coming to mouth at your tense lower belly.
A moment later, and his touch leaves your skin, the nighttime breeze chilling you in its place. There’s a clinking sound, a soft rustling below. For a moment, you fear abandonment. But when the cushions dip and your shirt is swiftly tugged off, you know he’s just getting started.
You wonder how you look to him—helpless and quivering, protected only by thin strips of fabric you’re sure he’ll conquer next. You wish you didn’t have to imagine the hunger in his eyes.
The next time he looms over you, his bare legs brush yours. The heat from his chest flows into your hips as his tongue reunites with your prickling flesh, dipping into your navel with unabashed intent.
He leaves a wicked trail over the center of your stomach, stopping only when he reaches the lace hem of your bra. You try to sit up, try to push off, but fall right back down when his mouth closes over your stiff nipple.
A wanton moan escapes you as his tongue roves over your clothed left breast. The friction is teasing, taunting over the flimsy barrier. A glimpse of what you could have if you gave yourself to him. But until that moment, he’s a cautious predator, refusing to be fooled twice by his prey playing dead.
He’s right to do so. You’re desperate now, flexing fingers tugging sharply at his thick hair. When you scratch at his scalp, he scoffs around your dampened cup, his hand lifting to give your right peak the same treatment: tugging, pinching, rolling it under his thumb, all while relentlessly hollowing his cheeks around your other breast. As you writhe in his steady hold, sharp teeth threaten your swollen bud, and you arch fully off the cushions, pushing yourself even further into his waiting mouth.
A few more greedy sucks, and he releases you with a pop, giving your tender flesh a much needed reprieve. “Still a feisty little thing,” he murmurs, “but you have gotten calmer, wouldn’t you agree? When you’re like this, supple and breathless beneath me…I can finally savor my prey.”
Searing lips steal yours in a claiming kiss. With gluttonous audacity, he swallows your squeal, and you can feel his smirk as he tries to lick into you. Coming to your senses, you clamp your mouth shut with stubborn shakes of your head, denying him the triumph of tasting you. For a moment, you think he’ll relent—until he snakes an arm around your hips and gropes your backside in his hand.
The bruising touch makes your lips part in a startled gasp, and the small opening is enough for him. Without hesitation, he plunges into your mouth, massaging the smooth insides of your cheeks before tangling his tongue with your own.
His fervor chips away at the foundations of your resolve—slowly, precisely, as if waiting for it to topple like a felled tree. You barely struggle against him. You barely can, with the way he lays claim to every inch of your mouth, suckling your tongue like it’s candy. He tastes like sin and wine, and you’re anything but clean.
You don’t realize when you start panting below him, breathy whines spilling from your lips in a frenzy. But he swallows them all with undisguised avarice, letting you moan into his mouth like he plans to siphon your voice alongside your energy.
The waistband of his boxers brushes your hips as he shifts, and his thick, heavy length throbs against you. But you’re so drunk on him, so high on his flavor, that the feeling of fabric sliding down your legs is only a passing thought.
Stars burst behind your blindfold as he spears into you.
You convulse almost immediately, gasping at the sudden intrusion. He’s so warm and rigid, you don’t know how he’s lasted this long—you can practically picture his swollen tip, dripping with milky fluid under his boxers as he crumbled your will before taking you.
From the relieved, guttural grunts that fall with each pump inside, you know your imagination isn’t too far off.
His eager forward thrusts awaken the last of your instinct to push, to act—like a lamb fighting for its last breaths in the maw of a wolf. Surging upwards, you reach blindly around him, bumping your chest against his as you scratch wildly at his back. Your nails drag down his heated skin, catching at his rippling muscles, but you don’t let up.
He snarls into your ear. “Give me it. Give it to me—everything you have. Exhaust the last of your strength and let me claim you completely. When you’ve worn yourself out, I bet I’ll reach even deeper.”
Your nails sink further as your walls clench around him, sucking him in despite your brain’s protests.
He leans closer. His nose ghosts the shell of your ear. “You feel it, don’t you? Your body taking me in? That means your time is running out. This is your last chance to prove to me that this night ends with anything but my seed spilling into you.”
The threat makes your heart lurch—anticipation masked as fear. With waning energy, you give a resolute grunt and thread your fingers in his hair once more, pulling until he hisses at the sting. But all the while, he never slows his thrusts—reveling in your weakness, ensuring no escape.
With every surge into your tightening walls, Sylus takes what he won from you—what he knew he’d win from the moment you said no public transit. You knew he knew. For just one second, your eyes had shifted downward. Your guilt was fleeting for such a bold lie, but it’d been enough—enough for him to know you. Enough for him to chase you here and trap you with his foresight.
And now, you pay the price. Your frantic pants slow. Your fingers slacken in his hair. You’re barely wriggling in his hold now. Each relentless pump inside you, testing your limits, kissing your furthest depths, molds you more and more into willful prey. Under the sweat-slicked blindfold, where his touch is your only concern, your racing heartbeat calms to a steady pulse.
He knows as much, with the way his strained grunts have turned to drawn-out moans—the way he coos in the ear he’d just snarled in, praising how smart you are for handing yourself over to him. How beautiful your surrender is.
It’s not long until you’ve melted in his arms, clinging desperately to him as the steady slaps of skin on skin echo in your ears. Weakly, you kiss the closest thing you feel—his chin, it seems—and adoration burns through his resulting chuckle.
Reaching under you, he deftly unclasps your ruined bra, finally freeing your tender breasts. They follow his thrusts with aching bounces, your hard, sore nipples ricocheting off his chest.
He kisses you again, cupping your cheek below your blindfold, and you open for him instantly, keening quietly into him. The pitiful sound wins a groan from him, and he laps at your mouth a final time before pulling away, a string of mixed saliva snapping as he does.
Whimpering, you paw at his chest, wanting to follow but not knowing where to go. His only response is to smooth a hand over your furrowed brow before dropping it to the cushion below, bracing himself on your makeshift bed.
He pulls out, leaving you cold and empty, and you nearly wail at the loss.
And then, he snaps forward with otherworldly precision, his hot, pulsing length pistoning into you with devastating speed. Dots sparkle across your darkened vision, and the obscene slaps of his hilt on your flesh carry into the night.
Your walls are gushing around him, likely staining the expensive sofa below, but you’re well past the point of propriety.
As need builds in your core, you cinch your legs around his waist, all but gluing him to you. A growl rips from his throat at the pressure, and he swipes his tongue through your mouth, nipping at your swollen bottom lip before he speaks.
“Is this,” he begins, gasping between scorching waves of pleasure, “another tactic of yours? You squeeze me like this until I black out and make your grand escape?”
The euphoric buzz in your brain delays your answer.
Until he licks a long stripe up your neck, biting down where it meets your shoulder. His tongue swirls around the angry bruise, the wet sounds of his mouth on you mixing with the rapid echoes of you sucking him in.
A whine bubbles in your throat as tears slip from your closed eyelids, their sticky heat pasting your blindfold to your skin. “No,” you cry. “No escaping. I don’t want to, I only want—I need it. You promised me. You promised me if I gave in, you’d…” Your voice breaks. You can’t bring yourself to say it, even as you beg for it. “I need it, Sylus. All of it. Please.”
Mirth fills his husky laugh. “That wasn’t what you were saying earlier, sweetie. You were fighting me so valiantly—what changed?”
Another whine from you.
He rumbles in amusement, reaching between your legs to roll your swollen bud under his thumb. When you gasp, he bites your slackened jaw, suckling on your sweat-sheened skin. “I could hear your heart beating out of your chest. But you were never afraid of me. You know better than to be afraid of me,” he growls, surging far into your fluttering walls for emphasis. “Then…did you like being caught? Did you like me overpowering you? Do you like falling apart around me, begging for me to fill you?”
You’re practically sniveling as you nod your head, agreeing faithfully to his every accusation. Your safeword is Elysium.
“Filthy girl. And here I was, thinking I was so mean for giving you exactly what you wanted.”
A broken sob escapes you. Shame, exhaustion, his bruising pace inside you still not letting up. At this point, you’ll give him anything he asks for. “I wanted you to catch me,” you hiccup, clinging to his arm like your life depends on it. “I wanted it so bad. I wanted you to pin me down and I wanted to fight, a-and I wanted you to win because you’re just that strong. I…I wanted you to break me, and now I want you to finish. I want to feel you inside me, even when you’re not there.”
For just this moment, you’re thankful for the blindfold, knowing you don’t have to see the way his eyes gleam.
“Hm,” he drawls, kissing your eyelid through the fabric. “Works for me, kitten.”
He dips his head to lash his tongue around your breast. Its naked peak blossoms to life at his touch, still remembering his earlier onslaught.
At the same time, he hurries the hand between your legs, circling and tapping the twitching nub until chants of his name spill from your mouth. When whispers turn to screams, he tugs it firmly between two fingers, and a rainbow of stars explodes under your eyelids.
You seize and clench around him, lodging him in your quivering core as your body eagerly broadcasts your defeat.
He pulses once, twice, buried to the hilt in your heat, before warm bursts coat your flexing walls. Slumping forward on top of you, he buries his head in your shoulder with a guttural groan.
His scent surrounds you until you're not sure where he ends and you begin anymore. But it’s exactly what you asked for. By nature's orders, you're his.
Reassuring touches are exchanged as you both catch your breath, embracing in the moonlight with the stars as your witness. After a while, he lifts slightly off of you and gently unfastens your blindfold, and when you blink your swollen eyes open, the purpling marks and scratches on your slick bodies are the first thing you see. The second? The once pristine decorations that lay scattered across the rooftop, misshapen and covered in dust.
The third is the worst of all: the impish, arrogant glint in his eyes, so brazen it sparks a petulant pang deep in your gut. Squinting furiously, you surge upward and attack his lips with yours, emboldened by your captor’s brashness.
Again and again he takes you—until the hazy pink beginnings of dawn threaten to expose the outcome of last night’s hunt.
When he carries you down the lobby’s staircase, sauntering coolly past disgruntled overnight staff, you can only bury your head in his shoulder, blocking your vision once more.
It’s late afternoon when you rouse beside him, kicking him under the covers in retribution. “You never said anything about a blindfold.”
Sighing sleepily, he turns to face you and hoists your leg over his hips, trapping it for its insolence. “And you never said anything about raking your kitten claws down my back, so I guess we’re even.” He shrugs. “I was improvising, sweetie—didn’t you enjoy it? You certainly seemed to when you were begging me to—”
“Okay, okay! You don’t have to go there.”
He coos. “But what if I want to?”
“I don’t care what you want,” you grumble, flipping over with a huff when he allows you to wriggle free. “Just…go back to sleep. It’s still your bedtime.”
A rich chuckle envelops you as you drift off again.
The next morning, a mailman drops a deep red envelope on a hotel reception desk. Inside it are a seven-figure check and a small greeting card, the diamond ring on its front stained in swooping black ink.
baratheonpilled
janainaart
blakekathryn
yousharknotpass
