#Two leaders that we lost... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

atxchiphxbix · 3 months ago

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YOUR LIPS, MY LIPS

synopsis: It’s Sylus’s first birthday with you. As a gift, you decide to give him your first (and his too)

Content. mdni afab + f! reader, established relationship, virgin! sylus, virgin! reader, mutual virginity loss (but honestly only reader’s is noticeable) oral (f! receiving) fingering, vaginal penetration, sylus finishes inside, no protection, praise, pet names (sweetie, kitten, good girl) reader wears lingerie, implied that reader and sylus have both touched themselves before, this is honestly really soft idk

a/n: can we pretend that this isn’t late… I forgot to save half my draft, spent the next day crashing out over it, but at least i got it done. Also my first time writing Sylus.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you’re suddenly feeling nervous. Clammy hands, quick breaths, and shaky hands. Your heart thumps rapidly against the bones of your caged ribs, hard and fast and only increasing with the dwindling time that Sylus spends in the shower, he should be out any minute now.

Tonight’s the night, you tell yourself. Tonight’s the night that you allow yourself to be lost to Sylus. To be his completely and celebrate the first birthday you’ve spent with him.

Your eyes rove over the red-laced clad form of your body, hands adjusting the straps that cling tight to you. A crimson lace set that hugs your curves like a second skin. The stockings clench around the middle of your thighs so the plush flesh spills just over the edge. The set is perfect enough to accentuate your figure, eye-catching and elegant—like Sylus.

And despite your repeated words to calm yourself, you still can’t help but feel nervous. You’ve never done this before, dressed up, given yourself up, especially to the leader of Onychinus. To the most powerful man in the N109 zone. But you aren’t giving yourself up to that man — you’re giving yourself to Sylus, just Sylus. To your lover who has done nothing but make you feel loved and cared for, to the man who has proved his love over and over again in countless ways.

He’s never pushed you whatsoever, never overstepped boundaries, or tried to persuade you to do anything you were uncomfortable with. Even in moments during his vampiric schedule when you two found time to sneak away to share messy kisses full of teeth and tongue, he’s never escalated it to anything, always stopping (to which you find yourself disappointed) and excusing himself with a sweet kiss to your cheeks. Charming, as always. So this time, you should be the one to initiate, to show him that you’re ready.

That thought is enough to encourage you to slip into your shared bed, pulling the silky covers up to your laced chest. You still in that position, shifting slightly in different positions while you listen intently to the sound of the shower. The rush of water extends to your ears and the brief image of your lover under the wet rivulets of water immediately causes your cheeks to heat with familiar warmth and a pool of heat to bubble in you.

A flush rises to your cheeks, burying your face into the inky sheets at the scene your mind has just conjured up. You can vividly imagine water droplets cascading down his toned body, streams of liquid running down his length, and even the way he looks under the lights that most certainly illuminate the sheen of water on his skin. The thought is intoxicating, as are the many other thoughts you’ve had of Sylus.

Amidst your flushed cheeks and wild images blaring through your creative mind, you fail to notice Sylus exit the bathroom. His toned torso is on full display, comfortable in your presence, and a little too comfortable with the way his skin is open, offering you a clear sight of the dipping V-line as his towel hangs dangerously low. His crimson eyes are quick to notice you on his bed, covered with his blanket and face buried into the sheets. It’s clear that you’re not sleeping, and from the tint of rose painting your ears, he easily deduces that you’re blushing. Yet, from what?

His lips quirk into a soft smirk, a low chuckle rumbling from his throat that finally draws your attention to him. “You’re blushing, sweetie.”

Upon hearing his gravelly chuckle, a familiar one that never fails to send waves of shivers down your spine, your head snaps up to him. And if your cheeks weren’t burning red before, seeing him in his half-nude state certainly has caused your cheeks to be coated in the prettiest shade of red — a perfect reflection of his eyes.

“Sylus! Uh…” A quiet laugh (if you could even call it that) escapes your lips, suddenly feeling exactly like a bundle of nerves once again. “I’m not, I was just…” Your words trail off, brain blanking out on what to say. What does one say in this scenario?

“Hm?” He hums amusedly, that smug smile tugging at the edges of his pink lips (and your heart) his eyes crinkling in mirth as he observes you intently. “Were you hiding instead? I’m sure I can find you much faster than when you were looking for that brooch.”

His teasing tone immediately causes you to scowl, narrowing your eyes at him. If Sylus had any say, he would compare you to a kitten with its ears flattened back, claws out, and ready to swat at him.

“I’m not hiding!” You defend yourself indignantly, yet unsure of how to approach the situation. Of course, you could be upright and just tell him that you want him to fuck you and mark you up like he does in all your fantasies. Tell him that you have obscene thoughts about him in your mind, ideas that plague your dreams, all about him. “I just… have another gift for you.”

“Oh?” The soft words that leave your lips cause him to raise a smooth brow, stepping a stride closer to the bed. Closer to where your tantalizing body is hidden beneath his covers. Closer to your pulsing heart and warm body. Closer to the place where you long to have him. “Give it here then.”

He gestures with an open hand, two fingers beckoning you towards him in a silent urge to offer your gift.

“We-well…” You stammer softly, eyes zeroing in on a bead of water that breaks free from the trap of his silvery strands of hair, sliding down the length of his body, disappearing into the waistband of the towel wrapped snug around his waist. Even the simple, most natural action of a glob of water has your throat going dry, fingers itching under the sheets to fling them off of you.

And you do, slowly.

Inch by inch, you tug the blanket down to reveal the expanse of your body, laced in crimson, to the gaze of Sylus who stands a mere few feet away. His room is chilly but with the flush of embarrassment sitting heavy in your cheeks and warmth surging through your body, you’ve never felt hotter.

Once finally bare to his eyes, you will yourself to look at him. He’s suddenly closer than before, eyes dark as he stares down at you. His large hands are clenched tight and from the close distance, you can see the way his chest heaves, a difference in his normal breaths.

A beat passes. One. Two. Three. Before you hesitantly open your mouth, concerned if you’ve miscalculated the moment. “Sy-”

“Is this your gift to me, sweetie?” The man steps closer, hands almost reaching out to ghost over you but he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps his clenched fists down at his sides.

With a small nod, you finally sit up on your knees. Your hands reach out, easily clasping his and pulling him closer. You move closer, bringing his large hand to rest on your cheek, nuzzling into the warm palm of his hand that seamlessly encases your face. Turning your head, a small kiss is pressed to his inner wrist, reverent in its creation.

“Only if… only if you want to.” A soft whisper. A plea for his approval. An acceptance of your gift and trust you’ve placed into his hands. It’s okay if he isn’t ready but you want him to know that you’re ready. You’re ready to be his completely and wholeheartedly, in every way, his.

From your close proximity, you can see the way his Adam’s apple throbs, saliva sliding down his throat, mouth watering at the delicious sight of you. Clad in a shade that mirrors his eyes, batting your pretty eyes up at him like a kitten — it’s all he’s ever wanted.

Sylus is a gentleman. Never overstepping his boundaries, never asking for too much, always allowing you to take the relationship at a pace that suited you. But this? A special gift for his birthday, to lose himself to you completely, to devote himself to you more than he already has declared? It's his declaration to the world, to show everyone that he finally belongs to you and you to him.

So, with a reverent sigh, he allows his thumb to brush along the familiar skin of your cheeks, smooth and soft. The touch is familiar, so gentle and divine. But with the air charged with unspoken tension and his heated gaze, it's more intimate than a simple touch on your cheeks. His vermillion eyes smolder as he roves over your kneeling form. Your heart picks up pace, thumping faster than it's meant to against the curved bones of your ribs that hide your heart — bared open for him.

An amused chuckle falls from his lips, gravelly and grisly. He leans in closer, watching as your lashes flutter shut in anticipation of a kiss. The sight only makes his mouth curl into a satisfied smile, body heating up in a flush when he hears your words. You want to if he wants to? He’s been wanting for a long time, no, he’s needed you for an eternity. He’s desired every part you’ve bared to him longer than he can remember.

“I want you, if you’ll have me.” His sweet words are punctuated with the sweetest kiss to your hot cheeks. A stark contrast to the hardening length hidden by the towel. It’s so easy for you to get him worked up, and you aren’t even aware of it. Not aware of the effect you have on him, not aware of what your proximity does, or how many nights he’s spent bucking his sticky cock into his wet hands while he thinks about how gorgeous you are.

“I want you.” You reaffirm gently, cupping his warm cheeks. He pulls you in by your hips, leaning in ever so slightly so that his warm breath brushes across your lips. “I want this with you, Sylus.”

He groans softly at your keening words, tilting his head, finally pressing his lips to yours in a kiss. He takes his time kissing you, slow and steady, and so very like him. Sylus is a man who enjoys the finer things in life, savoring the mulled taste of wine or lavish silks. And what could possibly be more exquisite than his beautiful lover dressed up on his special day? This closeness of your first time together, an experience you both haven’t had, shaping and exploring the contours and creases of your love.

So, he kisses you slow, savoring the intimacy of your lips locked together.

“Gorgeous. You’re gorgeous in this, sweetie.” The words come as a groan from Sylus who moves on top of you, towel slipping dangerously to expose the prominent lines of his Apollo’s belt. “So perfect, for me, no?”

You fall easily onto your back, feeling exposed with the absence of the blanket, but Sylus quickly comes to replace that weight. Your hands find purchase on his broad shoulders, pulling him closer towards you as soft lips continue to gently press along yours in smooth undulations, soft swipes of tongue and teeth.

“Sylus, I- let me,” Broken murmurs escape your lips through his worshipful kisses, pushing him away so he sits up.

The soft towel finally falls from his hips, pooling onto his black sheets. Of course, the towel isn’t what catches your attention — rather, what it was hiding. Your gaze drops to the main prize, standing big and hard against his torso. You’ve imagined him plenty of times, large and girthy, but not like… this. It’s pretty, like the rest of him, perfectly proportioned to his 6’2 frame, almost elegant in the way the pink head dribbles pearls of pre down the throbbing veins that dance along the underside.

And perhaps it was because you’re breath caught in your throat, cheeks hot and mouth dry, eyes trained onto the way it throbs with ache that he finally speaks up, a low grin heard in his syllables.

“You’re staring, kitten.” The words ring true, you are staring, quite unabashedly. But he too, doesn’t seem to care, rather, he doesn’t act shy or nervous. Even in moments like these, even if it’s your first, Sylus will be Sylus.

“It’s just… so pretty.” Your whisper, hands coming up to run along the smooth crevices of his collarbones, fingers dancing down to the creases of his chest and abs. Your actions earn a low groan and shiver out of your lover, white hair falling to his eyes as his head falls forward, crimson eyes fluttering shut. “Can I touch you, Sylus? Can I make you feel good, my love?”

The honeyed words and praises that fall from your lips almost has him folding, almost. If he were anyone else, perhaps he’d have given in, but his desire for you overpowers his want for pleasure. After all, who would he be if he didn’t take care of you first, especially since this is your shared firsts.

“Not yet, sweetie. Let me take care of you.” He rebukes you gently, veiny hands rising to wrap around your wrist. He pulls you away, raising your chin for a kiss to soothe your adorable pout.

“No, Sylus. Let me take care of you! It’s your birthday.” You pull away, pressing light kisses down the smooth column of his neck, lingering along scars and every perfect imperfection that makes him — him.

The only response from Sylus is a light chuckle before your world is tilted on its axis and you’ve fallen under him once again. Smoldering crimson eyes meet yours, filled with mirth and amusement while he pins you down underneath his broad body. His lithe fingers find yours, lacing your hands together in a sweet embrace and he hushes your protests with a flurry of kisses.

“This is my gift, no? I should unravel you properly, won’t you indulge the birthday boy?” Each of his teasing words are punctuated with a trail of kisses down your body that has your breath hitching. Before you even try to argue that it’s his birthday, and you should be lavishing him in your attention and care, he’s claimed the final word, lightly kissing down the length of your hot torso. “Besides, this is my first time too. Let me learn you, sweetie.”

Instantly, you melt at his words.

You've imagined this countless of times in the quiet of your room, filled with the sound of your sticky fingers pistoning into the messy channel of your squelching cunt. Countless of times you've imagined how he would kiss down your neck like he currently does, sucking his gentle claim into your flesh. You've imagined his lithe fingers deftly unhooking your lacy bra, trailing hot kisses down the valley of your breast. You've always imagined the experience of being utterly loved by him.

The next feeling you receive from him is the wetness of his warm mouth, wrapping gently around a single nipple, suckling softly on the sensitive tit. His vermillion eyes look up to meet your gaze, the great leader of Onychinus, alternating his attention on your heaving breasts. His silky hair is ruffled with your fingers buried in the silver strands. But the sensations are muted with the unfamiliar length that presses insistently against your sopping clothed core, a reminder that he desires you just as much as you do him in this moment.

"Sylus," you plea his name softly. Instantaneously, he looks up, pulling his mouth away from your chest. A part of you wishes he didn't do so. The action leaves a salacious strand of his warm saliva connected to the tip of your nipple, hardening with the onslaught of the cold air in his room.

"Hm?" He replies quietly, continuing to mark your skin. His hands slide down your sides reverently, admiring every crevice of you. Unwrapping you like a dutiful devotee. With every article of lace that slips from your body, he explores the new expanse of flesh, memorizing every mark, every scar, every millimeter shown. "Do you want me to stop, kitten?"

Instantly, you shake your head, a light whimper slipping from your lips.

Pleased, he finally kisses down to the supple flesh of your inner thighs, mouthing at the skin that exposes itself from the crimson lace. Your needy pleas and whines fill his ears, waves of pleased hums course through him, vibrating against your thighs. His experience is few and far between (zero) but he knows you and that’s already enough for him to understand you inside out.

“Patience, kitten.” He chuckles softly at your pleas, eager whines filling him with an unfathomable amount of pleasure. Large hands knead the flesh of your thigh. Your lacy red underwear outlined your sopping core, drenched in your arousal that he’s so close to. His warm breath ghosts over your damp cunt, shivering in excitement and slight embarrassment. No one has ever gotten this close, this intimate with you, only him. It will continue to be only him. And though he crooned to you to be patient, he could feel his own patience disintegrate when faced with you, all spread out and eager for him. “I want to take my time savoring you, unwrapping you.”

It pleased him that could leave as many marks as he wished; no one else got to see you like this. He could dance his lips across your skin, planting seeds that would blossom later, bloom into hues of ruby and violet, reminders for the next time undresses you. No one else would see them except you and him. A secret buried deep inside when the two of you would soon connect. You would be reminded of the sparks shivering through your body where his lips sucked, and he would remember the pleasure that rushed through him as he marked you for himself.

"Can I take these off?" He speaks low and soft, nuzzling his pink lips against the wet lace, clinging pitifully to your pussy.

At your eager nod, he mouths at your cunt. A low groan cuts through him at the taste of you, leaking through the article of lace. Leaking because of him. It pleases him to see that he has this effect on you, having you spread open with legs hooked over his shoulders and flushed so prettily.

Innately, your hands bury into the strands of his hair, tugging and whining for his touch. He grants it to you through the fabric, tongue flattening against the lace, dragging slowly up until he suckles on your throbbing clit. A sharp gasp is elicited from your kiss-bitten lips, mouth falling open in a silent moan.

"All this for me, sweetie? How kind, a sweet cunt for a sweet girl." Sylus chuckles slowly, the sound vibrating through his lips and through your cunt, an action that sends shocks of sharp pleasure shooting through you.

“Mhm… for you, Sy. All for you.” You pant, hips bucking impatiently into his mouth.

A veined hand runs up the garter that decorates your thighs, raising just higher to hook over the waistband of your red-laced panties, tugging down to reveal his present.

"So pretty, kitten. You smell so good, so sweet.” With your legs thrown over his shoulders, cunt glistening in the low light, he admires you quietly, almost divinely in your presence. Your pussy on full display, sensitive bud throbbing and hole clenching around nothing. Drool builds up in his mouth at the delicious sight, unable to tear his eyes away. Embarrassment flushes through you, crawling up your spine to settle on your already-flushed cheeks.

His large hands raise, thumbs parting your slick folds, opening you up to feast on you with his heavy gaze. Your lover leans in, mouth open, coming closer until his nose bumps your clit, tongue dragging through your silky folds, and relishing in the gasp and moans that fall heavenly from your lips. Hands tug at his hair, whines and sweet sounds come from above him, raising higher in pitch when his thumbs swipes at your sensitive clit, rubbing in tight circles. Infinitely better than any of the times you’ve ever touched yourself.

“Sy- fuck!” You throw your head back, thighs threatening to close around his head. He could die happy like this, drunk off of your taste and love. He would give you the world on a diamond platter, each bite filled with nothing but love and security, it’s the least he could possibly give you after you’ve allowed him to take a sacred part of you.

The way you moan and quiver around him is a gift in itself, a gift to him that he takes readily without hesitation. Anything from you is a gift. And anything from you, is more sacred than his life in whole.

For someone who has never been in bed with someone, it feels like Sylus knows your body like the back of his hand. Maybe it’s his close observation skills. His vermillion irises carefully watch each and every twitch your body makes in creation to his touch. From a certain way you shiver when his tongue swipes at your clit, to the moan that tumbles when he dips his wet muscle into your tight heat. He notices it all.

His tongue expertly slides along your folds, scooping copious amount of your sweet slick onto his tongue while savoring your pitchy moans. Your lover laps you up like a man starved, tongue slipping along your damped folds, no difference between your sweet taste nor his drool. He relishes everything you offer him. From the way, your fingers tug almost painfully at his scalp to the unbridled noises that resonate through his room.

“Sy-Sylus, ha… please, I wanna make you feel g-good too.” Through your messy haze of pleasure shooting through your spine, you manage to find words that aren’t the broken syllables of his moaning name.

“You are, sweetie. You're making me feel so good, letting me have you so nicely like this. So kind, so sweet, aren’t you? My sweet girl?” His praises are spoken through milliseconds away from your soft cunt, diving back in like a dragon greedily guarding its most precious gems. After all, what gem is more precious than the one he has in his grasp right now?

You don't find it in you to argue, mind succumbed to the pleasure he so readily offers you. Your plush thighs, decorated with lacy vermillion garters, clench around his head, threatening to shut with the quick rise of your impending orgasm. It climbs rapidly, settling into the pit of your stomach, bubbling into hot sparks.

"Can I put a finger in, kitten?" He murmurs softly. His thumb swipes at your sensitive bud, looking up at your pleading expression. He clearly doesn't need your words, actions and your lovestruck expression etched onto your face is enough, but he wants to hear you. He needs to hear your confirmation, to hear that this moment isn’t one of his many dreams he has of you. Another when he gets to hear the melody of your heavenly mewls and the feel of your thighs against both sides of his head. He needs to hear that you need him just as much as he needs to in this moment.

“Yes, please, please. Sy, I want you, I wanna be yours.” With eager hands, your fingers wrap around his wrist that squeezes at the plush of your thighs, bringing it closer to your achy hole. Not only does he need you in this moment, you need him. It’s an act of reassurance, love, and trust that you’ve so generously given to him.

“You do, hm?” His smile returns, lovestruck and full of adoration. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll make you mine.”

With that, he slides a calloused finger through your folds, slick with his saliva and your own arousal. He takes his time, savoring your flesh and the feel of being the first man down here, with you. Your face contorts into one of mild discomfit as he slides a finger in, easing it into your virgin walls. His eyes never leave your face though, watching every twitch of your muscles and flutter of your lashes as your mouth etched to create the syllables of his name in a whine.

“Do you want to stop, sweetie?” He murmurs against your aching clit, in hopes of alleviating the discomfort of his digit.

And it pleases him. The way you immediately shake your head, quickly protesting that idea. “No! I can take it, Sy. I wanna take it for you.”

So he continues to give you what you want. With your slick arousal coating his hands, he pumps his finger gently along your gummy walls, lewd sounds of your squelching pussy reverberating throughout his room. He continues suckling on your sensitive bud, flattening his tongue against the wetness, slurping you up. It’s obscene, the sounds behind the closed doors. His groans, lewd squelches, and your moans — it sends all the blood in his body rushing south, to his already aching cock.

Your hips sloppily humped against his mouth, a physical beg to have his fingers stroke deeper into you. You already felt so full with a single finger, insistently prodding at your gummy walls until your back arches beautifully for him. Your fingers pull at his silky hair, toes curling, and your head falls back into the black pillows as your stomach grows taut and rivulets of ecstasy shoot through every nerve.

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘s so good—”

You cum so suddenly it feels blinding. It feels like fireworks ignite behind your shut lids as you ground down onto Sylus’ face to chase the aftershocks of the high. His finger stills but your hips don’t, grinding onto his finger to catch the remaining effects of the hot sparks in your stomach.

"That's it, good girl. So good for me, sweetie, you came so beautifully." His praises are spoken through your quivering cunt, twitching at his smooth praise. "Good girl, it's okay, kitten."

He finally pulls away from your pussy, webs of his saliva stuck to your sweaty body. Sylus sits up on his heels, hand coming to wrap around the hard length of his cock, giving himself reprieve of slow pumps. Your eyes drop down to his shaft, angry and dribbling more pre from the turgid tip with every drag of his large hand. It looks heavier than earlier, even more delicious bucking in his fist.

His soft groans, twitching of his hips has a new wave of heat coursing through your body. You feel an indescribable urge to relieve him of the ache, to have him fill you up, and to love each other thoroughly once more. But before you can pull him on top of you, he speaks.

“We can stop he—”

“No.” Your response is quick, pulling him over you in a swift motion. You don’t want to stop. Rather, you want him inside you. You want to make him yours and you, his.

Your hand trails down his torso, fingers finding his hard cock that bobs eagerly when you gently brush along it. It’s hot and thick, sending waves of anticipating shivers down your spine at the prospect of having this part of him inside you.

But for now, you enjoy the way the leader of Onychinus shivers from your touch. His Adam’s apple bobs with the gulp of his saliva, low groans escaping him as you trail kisses along his neck. Your hands slide smoothly from his turgid crown and down to the base, giving him light squeezes that has his eyes fluttering shut and head lolling into the sweaty crook of your neck.

“Fuck, kitten. You feel so good…” His words escape as a breathy sigh, dwindling into low groans. He allows you this, just as he allows you into many things; his heart, mind, body, and soul. Whatever you wish for, he allows it.

“Yeah? I wanna make you feel good, Sy. Just wanna make you feel good.” Your response is whispered out, leaning up to lock your lips with his in a gentle kiss.

His hands, resting on your hips, drop down to your thighs to hook it over the curve of his waist. He sighs into the kiss, breaking gently with a long string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“Can I put it in then, kitten?” His hands capture your wrist, lacing your fingers gently together in an intimate embrace. The silvery strands of his hair fall onto your forehead as he leans down, pressing his temple to yours.

Your response is a nod, arms tightening around his neck when he lines himself to your quivering hole, already feeling himself shiver at the contact of your hot folds sliding along the length of his dick. You can feel the blood throbbing through the veins that run along the underside of his cock, warm and bobbing against you.

Gently, he finally pushes the tip in.

A sharp gasp is elicited from both of you. Your eyes instantly flutter shut, features contorting into a grimace at the large intrusion, pressing into the deepest parts of you. Sensing your pain, Sylus peppers kisses along your neck, fingers tightening on yours in a soothing hold, his free hand weaves between your flushed bodies to rub tight circles to your clit, alleviating your pain.

“Good girl, it’s okay. You’re doing so well, just breathe, just breathe.” His praises fall reverently, kissing away the pearls of tears that pool at the edges of your eyes, gentle and loving.

His praises continue as he finally bottoms out, filling your walls completely full of him. He pants against your lips, watching your expression form from one of discomfort to one of pleasure and love. He moves his lips down your body, sucking on your neglected tits to coax soft moans from you.

“Sylus… you can move, please.” Your soft plea has him folding immediately. Gentle, hoarse voice and a body that takes him in perfectly. You truly were made for him.

The first roll of his hips is meticulously steady in its movement, like he’s holding himself back, caging himself in. He barely pulls out, cool air meeting the slicked skin of his cock before he slides back in with a punctual sway. The simple movement makes you dizzy and numbed, oxygen flying from you, escaping in a soft blissed sigh, and mewls falling from your kiss-bitten lips. It feels euphoric to be split open by him and feel inches of his cock drag along your spongy walls, filled up by him. It’s like you’re ambling in a haze of heat, wandering through the fog of hot shocks of pleasure with his body securely locking you flush to him, and nothing but him in this moment, a satisfying overwhelming indulgence of his scent and touch.

“Oh,” you keen instantly when the tip of his dick delicately, repeatedly nudges that soft, spongy part of your walls. It has you raking your nails down his back, relishing in the presence of him, senses filled with nothing but him. “I love you, Sylus. I love you, s-so much.”

His swift thrust has your words getting caught in your throat, air knocked from your lungs from his punctual movements.

“Yeah? I love you too, I love you, I love you. Fuck— I love you. You were made for me, weren’t you? Made for me to love and cherish, made for me to have you like this?” The words are whispered out, barely heard over the obscene sound of flesh on flesh, wet and intimate.

You can only respond in babbles, murmuring mewls in a symphony of his name. Arms wrapped tightly around his neck and whimpering out your devotion. Heat simmers between your flushed bodies, the only space separating you two is the repetitive cadence of his rolling hips.

The two of you render speechless, allowing the harmony of bodies and reverberation of your shared noises to speak for itself. He pants softly into your ears, groaning sweet nothings at the feeling of your perfect walls hugging tight around his cock. It’s almost painful for him to pull out, instantly missing your sweet heat and that has him diving back in again and again and again, until he feels the aching knot bubbling in his stomach. A familiar and unwelcome feeling that has his cock twitching and pulsing. He doesn’t want to come yet, not without you. Not until you do first.

And as if sensing his dilemma, cock twitching inside your sensitive walls, your hands come up to cup his cheeks. Your lips raise, meeting his in a kiss full of tongue and teeth, messy in all its glory. He isn’t the only one close. Your nerves feel shot, ignited on every expanse of your glistening skin. You want him to cum, you want to come with him.

“Sylus,” you pant against his lips, “Can you— nngh come? I wanna feel you, Sy. Please come, I wanna fe-feel you.”

“Yeah?” He breathlessly chuckles through blissful, broken sighs of your name. “I’ll give it to you. Sh-shit, I’ll give it to you, kitten. I love you, fuck, I love you.”

Your words coax the knot in his stomach to unravel. And with a moan of your name on his lips, he buries himself deep inside you, spilling his warm seed into your fluttering walls. Your fingers card through his hair, gentle pressure guiding him to hide into the crook of your neck, which he eagerly does.

With his head buried in the crook of your neck, fingers rubbing light circles on your clit, and his hip rutting sloppily into your spent pussy, you quickly follow his lead. Your back arches into him, cumming with the sweetest cry of his name on your swollen lips.

Sylus doesn't stop.

Your lover continues to messily thrust up into you, hands gripping the soft flesh of your ass to keep you impossibly closer to his thumping heart. Even with your nails digging into his shoulders, even with your legs trembling around his waist, or the rapid pulsing walls that greedily milk his hot cum into your welcoming womb. Filled, and fucked back into you, over and over and over. He doesn’t stop.

Not until you’re sniffling his name and clinging onto him like it’s your life’s mission. Only then does he slow his pace, peppering kisses up your sweaty sternum until laying one to rest on your sweet lips.

Sylus stops to admire you, an act he performs every day with the utmost importance. His beautiful lover, dressed up for him, flushed the prettiest shade of red because of him, leaking his cum because of their passionate coupling.

“Sylus,” you whisper, the first to break the silence but not the touch.

“Hm?” His answer is soft, taking pleasure in your smell and flesh. The two of you are sweaty but it doesn’t bother him, never if it’s you.

“Happy birthday.” The words are spoken softly, mumbled against his flesh.

His response comes in the form of a soft ‘thank you, my love.’ Words that have your heart warming and cheeks flushing more than they already are. You press your palm to his cheek, cupping his face to pull him into a kiss that devotes your being to him.

He nuzzles into the crevices of your neck, panting softly in the intimate ambiance of his room, soothed by the beating of your heart — a remembrance that you’re here, with him.

It’s no secret that Sylus loves you. No secret that you’re his and he is yours. But in moments like these, just you and him, it feels so much more real, more intimate than anything he could have ever fathomed. Tonight is his day of birth, the first that he’s ever spent with anyone (not just anyone — you) It’s almost terrifying how quickly you’ve assimilated into his life, slotting yourself in because you belong with him — made for him in every way.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way, ruin him if you wish. It’s okay if it’s you.

This year, next year, and many lifetimes to come — he wants it all with you.

HAPPY (late) BIRTHDAY TO SYLUS

#crescent.creates #c.sylus #sylus smut #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lnds sylus #lads sylus #lads smut #lnds smut #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #divider by cafekitsune

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getvalentined · 3 months ago

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Thinking a lot recently about the constant comparison of Oblivion to Skyrim, particularly claims that Oblivion is superior in every way strictly by virtue of quest length and the greater grandiosity of the organizations in Oblivion, and I think there's been a fundamental misunderstanding of what's actually going on with Tamriel during the time period of Skyrim. Even though it's like...one of the core concepts of the main storyline.

Putting most of this under a cut for length, but I just...I think people misunderstand what's going on here. This is not a "One Game Good Other Game Bad" post, it's an analysis of a major, key difference in story basis between the two that I think gets lost in the (frankly asinine) argument about which is superior.

See, everything in Skyrim sucks. Every organization you can align yourself with is falling apart. Literally every single one.

That's the point.

To summarize:

The Companions (equivalent to the Fighters' Guild) are about a dozen strong, literally cursed, and their most beloved leader gets murdered very early in the storyline.

The College of Winterhold (equivalent to the Mages' Guild, not to the Arcane University) has seemingly only been saved from collapsing into the sea because a master of Restoration fused himself with the structure itself when the Sea of Ghosts tried to tear it down a little under a century ago and his presence is constantly physically "healing" the foundation.

The Thieves' Guild has lost the favor of every possible patron deity, having been outright cursed by Nocturnal after one of her Nightingales murdered another and stole the gift she offers her champion, while the boon that the organization's founder claimed from her in ages past (the cowl) is missing.

The Dark Brotherhood has been all but completely dismantled, the Night Mother's tomb in Bravil having been raided and struggling to persist without a Listener for over a decade; the bodies of the Night Mother's children have been lost and she's essentially being smuggled from region to region in an attempt to find a safe place to continue operations.

The Empire itself has been kneecapped, forced into a traumatic treaty by a fascist regime determined to strike the beliefs and culture of anyone not Altmer off the face of the planet; the Thalmor have gone so far as to torture and radicalize the figurehead leader of the Nords in order to use their own nationalism and superiority against the Empire, sparking a civil war that will further weaken the Empire and allow the Aldmerri Dominion to destroy it wholecloth.

This extends out into the rest of the world, too! We have confirmed existence of Hist-deaf Argonians. The Dunmer are floundering to recover after the quadruple-whammy that is the fall of the Triumverate, the destruction of Vivec City when Baar Dau finally made impact, the Red Year, and the Argonian uprising. The Bosmer are literally endangered due to habitat loss following a super-isolationist cultural shift due to wars with the Khajiit and Altmer. The Void Nights were devastating to Khajiit culture and population in ways that have yet to be fully explained.

The world is falling apart. Everything is dying.

And then Alduin shows up.

We all kind of talk about Alduin carrying on as World-Eater through the course of the Skyrim storyline like it's him being a piece of shit, since he'd started it ages ago and was just displaced in time to land on the Last Dragonborn's head in the Fourth Era, but I don't think that's the case.

Based on the state of things, I think Alduin arrived right on time. I think it's the end of the world. The only reason he "should" be stopped is because the Last Dragonborn has the capacity to stop the world from ending in a more down-to-earth sense than just defeating Alduin: they can't save everyone, but they can "fix" every single organization that's holding "the world" together.

They can align with the Imperials and keep the civil war from further crippling them, keeping the Empire from being too weak to push back against the Aldmerri Dominion.

They can save the College of Winterhold, the only group in the right place at the right time to stop the Eye of Magnus from opening, and in doing so make sure that the Psijics are able to put it somewhere nobody else can find it.

They can lead the Companions, cure the curse for those members who don't want to run with Hircine after death, which bolsters their spirits enough to keep doing what they can even when everyone else is trying to kill each other. A single neutral martial force in the middle of a civil war.

They can regain Nocturnal's trust for the Thieves' Guild, restore the Nightingales, and in doing so they can return the luck that was stolen from them as punishment for Mercer Frey's transgression. They can even reclaim the Crown of Barenziah and award the guild with a paragon to increase their newly-regained luck.

They can hear the Night Mother, becoming Listener for the Dark Brotherhood to restore the balancing force of Sithis in the world, purify the most broken Sanctuary the Brotherhood has ever had, and finish a story set into motion way back in the Third Era—Emperor Titus Mede II is murdered under the order of a Motierre, a descendant of a mark the Brotherhood specifically kept from dying during the Oblivion Crisis.

The Last Dragonborn can't do anything outside Skyrim—there's nothing they can do for the Argonians or the Bosmer or the Khajiit, and they can only do very little for the Dunmer via work in Solstheim—but they can work with every single guild or guild-adjacent group, strengthening the Empire to stand against the biggest threat to Tamrielic culture since the First Era, and in doing so they can make it so the world isn't ready for Alduin to eat it.

The Hero of Kvatch exists when Tamriel, and presumably Nirn as a whole is in the prime of its life, that's what makes the Oblivion Crisis such a big deal. This is a world that isn't ready to give up, it still has the strength to fight, it just needs someone standing at the head to direct it. The Last Dragonborn comes into the story when everything is falling apart and nothing really feels worthwhile, when it's hard to see why the world is worth saving. They have the chance to prove that there's still some life left here, that the world isn't too far gone to save—Alduin arrived right on time, it's the Last Dragonborn's job to change that.

I can see how coming from Oblivion to Skyrim would feel disappointing and hollow, but I'm pretty sure that's literally the point of the story.

Oblivion tells you the world is worth saving because it's got so much left to live for, even with the odds stacked so high against it. Skyrim asks you whether a world that's dying is still a world worth saving, and it's up to you to prove that it is.

#skyrim #oblivion #nashi has an opinion #tes #fandom ramble #that's the first time I've used that tag on something elder scrolls related #I'm not super active in this fandom #so idk if this has come up before #but I think it's a pretty obvious distinction #and I think it makes both games feel more real #to understand where they're coming from #the implication here is kinda #that the world was SUPPOSED to fall to the Oblivion Crisis #and the fact that it didn't #means that everything immediately started to collapse #like instantly #world under warranty for three eras only #what do you mean you want a fourth?#woe apocalypse be upon ye

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