#deep space mining | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xomarzz · 17 days ago

Text

nocturnal

sylus doing lovey things for his fiancée (mc)

~4.2k words, sylus x fem!reader, not proof-read, FLUFF, smut, just more so suggestive smut, they have sex but nothing crazy, loverboy sylus, sylus just really loves his fiancée, so he makes her tea and a bouquet, tiny angst if you squint, no identifying characteristics in this, it’s mostly sylus, but my fics are always written with a black reader in mind! minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT!

a/n: almost all the lads out of my system,,i had this sitting for a while but i needed to finish it as burnout prevention while im studyinggg for an important exam, i also think i hate writing smut but think i prefer suggestiveness in certain circumstances, so hopefully it’s fine here :P

sylus quietly slipped out of the california king-sized bed, careful not to disturb her. [name] lay asleep beneath the sheets, her face soft with dreams, serene, despite the world he inhabited. her breath came slow and steady, chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm that contrasted with the chaos he lived in.

his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, something flickering in the depths of his gaze, something tender, almost unrecognizable compared to the sharpness he showed the rest of the world. the leader of onychinus, infamous for his ruthlessness, had spent countless nights awake in darkness, but tonight, he was the quiet observer, watching the woman he loved sleep, fiddling with the silver engagement ring encasing the garnet gemstone that matched his eyes, as [name] says.

with one last lingering glance, sylus stepped away, moving with stealth. the base was silent, save for the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath his weight. he moved through the house as if it were an extension of his own body, quiet, measured, and in control.

sylus first made his way into the kitchen, his movements fluid, almost second nature. there was no rush. time felt slow in the stillness of the house.

the kitchen was bathed in the soft glow of the full moon, streaming through the window above the sink.

he moved toward the counter with a purpose, his eyes flicking over the well-worn teakettle sitting on the stove. it was old, probably older than he was, but it was hers, something simple and comforting that had stayed with her over the years. he reached for it, fingers brushing against the cool metal, his touch gentle, almost reverent. there was a familiarity in this gesture, a comforting rhythm he had come to know well.

he filled the kettle with water, the sound of the faucet’s stream breaking the stillness of the room. his hands moved carefully, the stream running steadily as he watched the water flow. he didn’t need to rush this, she wasn’t awake yet.

once the kettle was filled, he set it down on the stove, the soft clink of its bottom against the metal burner echoing in the quiet room. his movements were precise, measured, as he adjusted the burner’s knob to a low flame. he didn’t want to boil the water too quickly-it needed to heat slowly, gently, like the careful way he loved her.

while the water heated, he turned his attention to the tea itself. he knew her preferences by heart, how she liked it, how much sweetness she needed, and the exact way to steep it for the perfect flavor. he walked over to the small cabinet where her tea tins were stored. the light from the window caught the dusty lids, each one a different color and shape, a quiet reflection of her tastes.

he reached for the tin of the tea she preferred, his fingers brushing over the smooth metal before he twisted the lid off. the fragrant aroma of dried leaves and spices instantly filled the air, the scent rich and warm. he inhaled deeply, humming, letting the earthy smell wash over him, there was something grounding about it, something undeniably her. he pulled out the small metal scoop from the tin, and, with a practiced hand, measured out exactly two teaspoons of the tea leaves.

he tilted the tin just slightly, the loose leaves falling with a soft rustling sound, settling into the small silver scoop. the aroma was stronger now, filling the kitchen with a comforting warmth. he placed the scoop carefully into the small ceramic tea infuser, his fingers brushing against the cool ceramic as he closed the lid of the infuser with a soft click.

by now, the kettle had started to hum faintly, a sign the water was warming. the sound was almost hypnotic. he paused, staring at the faint wisp of steam rising from the spout, taking a moment to simply watch the kettle.

he turned the knob on the stove just a little more, watching the steam begin to grow more pronounced, swirling in the air. when the steam began to curl more steadily from the kettle, he lifted it with ease, his hand steady as he held it to the teapot. the sound of the water pouring was soft, steady, a soothing rhythm in the quiet room. the stream of hot water hit the metal of the infuser gently, the tea leaves unfurling slowly in the heat. he tilted the kettle slightly, just enough to allow the water to flow with purpose, but without splashing.

he watched as the water began to darken, the deep amber hue of the tea seeping into the liquid, swirling in delicate, graceful movements. the leaves danced slowly inside the metal infuser, expanding and twisting as they released their flavor into the water. he let it steep, counting the seconds in his mind, measuring the perfect time. not too long, not too short. just enough for the tea to reach that ideal balance of flavor.

he set the kettle back on the stove, his fingers resting lightly on the ceramic handle as the steam rose once again. a small smile flickered at the corner of his lips, something almost tender in the way he watched the tea take shape. for all the power he held in his hands, this was where he felt the most grounded.

after a few minutes, when the color had deepened to the perfect shade, he lifted the infuser carefully from the teapot and set it aside, a small drip of water falling from the edge. the tea was now dark, smooth, and rich, exactly as she liked it.

next, he reached for the honey jar, another small ritual that had become second nature. he unscrewed the lid, his fingers gently curling around the smooth glass. the honey was thick and golden, its sweetness filling the air as he drizzled just the right amount into the tea, watching it swirl in the dark liquid like a river of gold.

he gave it a gentle stir with the small silver spoon, the metal softly scraping against the edges of the cup, the motion rhythmic, soothing. the honey dissolved effortlessly, leaving the tea a perfect shade of amber with a slight gleam to it, like sunlight on a calm sea.

finally, he reached for the milk, taking care as he poured it into the cup, watching the milk swirl into the tea, softening the color and creating a smooth, creamy texture.

he set the milk back down, and then, as the final step, he carefully placed the cup on the saucer, the porcelain making a soft, satisfying click as it rested against the smooth surface.

with the tea prepared, he glanced one more time toward the bedroom, where she still lay asleep. he didn’t need to wake her yet. he walked over to the table, setting the cup down.

he set the tea on the counter, then moved to the closet to carefully fold her clothes, arranging them in the drawers with a precision he’d learned over the years. his hands moved with the same care as he adjusted the throw on the couch, smoothing the fabric from their earlier presence.

he took one more glance at [name] and the [jewelry color] ring sat around her left ring finger. he couldn’t shake the need to do something more. something that felt like a declaration of his devotion, aside from the present engagement.

sylus paused at the door, glancing back once more toward the bedroom. the faintest sound of her snoring reached him. she was still asleep. without a sound, he turned the knob, stepping out into the cool night air.

the air outside was crisp, sharp with the bite of the night, as he stood by his motorcycle in the driveway. everyone but him unaware of the mission he was about to undertake. sylus adjusted his leather gloves, the cool leather creaking softly, and then his eyes turned toward the sleek black and red yamaha motorcycle parked just inches away, waiting for him.

the motorcycle was as much a part of him as his own skin. every line of the machine was built for precision, for speed. it was powerful, dark, and capable of slicing through the quiet night with ease.

he ran a hand along the cold metal, feeling its smooth curves under his touch. there was something almost sacred about these moments, something intimate about riding through the empty streets, alone, with nothing but the hum of the engine and the wind in his face.

with a swift motion, he threw a leg over the seat, settling himself behind the handlebars. the engine growled to life under his touch, and he revved it once just a low, threatening growl that vibrated in his chest.

the was no need for a helmet tonight, he would be out of the city for only a short while, but the sense of freedom was already taking over him. with a twist of the throttle, the motorcycle shot forward, and the streets of the city seemed to vanish behind him.

the rush of the wind against his face was invigorating, a sharp contrast to the stillness that had settled in the house only moments ago. the n-109 zone blurred into the background as he sped through the deserted streets. his focus was razor-sharp, but there was a feeling of exhilaration in his chest, a quiet thrill that came from the sheer speed. the hum of the motorcycle’s engine beneath him was his only companion, its growl a steady reminder that he was alive, in control, and on a mission.

the streets of the n-109 zone soon faded behind him, replaced by darkened highways stretching out like endless ribbons of black. the closer he got to the outskirts of town, to linkon, the quieter the roads became. the hum of his motorcycle was the only sound that filled the air, broken only by the occasional passing of headlights from an unseen car in the distance.

he shifted gears smoothly, his body in perfect sync with the machine. the bike leaned gently into each curve of the road, carving through the dark like it was part of him.

as the n-109 zone disappeared completely replaced by the darkness of the open road, he felt a calm settle over him. the only sounds now were the thrum of the engine, the wind rushing past his ears, and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures in the night.

eventually, the road took a sharp bend, and in the distance, he saw the silhouette of a small greenhouse nestled at the foot of a hill, its glass windows glowing softly under the moonlight. he slowed as he approached, the low growl of his engine reverberating against the stillness of the night.

the greenhouse was a secret place, known only to few the flowers he sought were not the typical blooms found in a shop, but delicate, exotic flowers that required special care. these were the kind of flowers that would be perfect for her-rare, beautiful, something that couldn’t be easily replicated.

he parked the motorcycle just outside the greenhouse, the faint screech of the kickstand breaking the night’s silence. stepping off the bike, he removed his gloves, his fingers grazing the cool metal of the handlebar one last time before he moved toward the greenhouse.

the door creaked softly as he pushed it open. the soft scent of flowers, earthy and sweet, filled his senses as he stepped inside. the greenhouse was dimly lit by hanging lanterns, casting an ethereal glow over the rows of plants, their petals glowing faintly in the soft light. it was a small world of quiet beauty, tucked away from the world. you’d love it, and he vowed he’d bring you here, one day.

the florist, an elderly man who rarely spoke, was already waiting for him. he didn’t ask questions, he never did. sylus wasn’t here for small talk, he was here for the flowers. the ones that would take his fiancée by surprise. the ones that would remind her that, no matter how dangerous his world was, there was always room for beauty.

sylus made his selection carefully, examining the blooms with the same precision and thoughtfulness he put into everything he did. each flower was chosen with a quiet reverence, like it was a treasure meant just for her. the colors, the texture, the softness of the petals, they all had to be perfect.

the old man carefully wrapped the flowers in brown paper, securing them with twine, and handed them over. no need for words. sylus nodded once, his hand brushing lightly against the flowers as he took them, feeling their delicate weight in his hands.

with the bouquet carefully secured, he made his way back to the motorcycle, his movements as smooth and deliberate as ever. he climbed back onto the bike, the flowers resting gently in the compartment behind him. the engine roared to life with a twist of the throttle, and he sped off into the night once more, heading back toward the city, the road ahead still open and endless.

the road stretched out before him, but now, he wasn’t just escaping into the night. no, he was racing back toward her. toward the place where, in the quiet of the early morning, he would leave a simple bouquet as a promise.

he parked the motorcycle just outside the door, the engine’s hum slowly fading into the quiet. as he approached the door, he moved with the utmost care, his footsteps soft on the wooden floors, he didn’t want to wake her. she needed her rest, and he was content with the silence between them. the n-109 zone might be filled with noise and chaos, but here, in this space, there was peace.

the bouquet was placed gently on the dining table, its fragrance filling the air, competing only with the soft glow of the moonlight streaming in from the window. he admired the way the light bathed the flowers in a soft, ethereal glow. perfect. just like her.

his hands moved with precision as he arranged the flowers, his fingers brushing lightly over the delicate petals. each bloom was positioned just so, every stem cut to the perfect length. his eyes were focused entirely on the task, the quiet sound of his breath mingling with the rustling of the petals as he worked. but his mind was elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of her.

he thought of the way she would smile when she awoke, the warmth of her touch, the way her laughter filled the dark space like a melody. sage was his light in a world of shadows, her presence grounding him, steadying him.

he hummed as he set the last flower into place, ensuring the arrangement was perfect. his fingers hovered over the petals, smoothing them gently, making sure everything was aligned with the same precision he applied to every aspect of his life.

his eyes lingered on the arrangement for a moment longer, before returning to her sleeping form in his bed, bathed in the same gentle light from the window.

she was so peaceful, so beautiful, her chest still rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

he stood there for a long moment, simply watching her sleep, his heart beating steadily in the quiet of the night. a part of him wanted to stay, to be close to her, to allow her to wake up and see the flowers. but for now, he was content to leave her to her rest, the bouquet serving as his silent message to her.

with a final glance, his eyes softened, and he stepped back into the living room. his footsteps faded into the quiet night, leaving the bouquet as his only mark. he knew she would find it in the morning. she’d wake, and she would see the flowers. and in them, she would the love he gave her, wrapped in petals and leaves, as constant as the night itself.

the morning light seeped in through the blinds, its golden hue painting the room with a soft warmth. it felt different from the usual harsh light of daybreak, like the sun itself was coaxing her awake, rather than pulling her from the depths of sleep.

[name] stirred beneath the raven-colored covers, the familiar weight of the blankets feeling like a protective cocoon around her. her body moved in lazy stretches, muscles loosening after the quiet night. a soft yawn escaped her lips, her eyes fluttering open, still heavy with sleep. she let the moment stretch, disdaining having to leave the bed.

her gaze shifted toward the edge of the room, expecting to see the familiar, dark silhouette of sylus still sleeping beside her. but the bed was empty. she hadn’t heard him leave, and his side of the bed was cold, the sheets undisturbed except for the small imprint where he’d been. she didn’t feel alarmed, he was often, if not always, woke before her, slipping away quietly to start his night-day, a habit she had grown used to over time. but still, it was sometimes strange to wake up alone. especially without him alerting her beforehand.

for a moment, she just lay there, covering her entire body back with the large black comforter. the quiet of the room wrapped around her like a soft blanket, her mind still half-dreaming. her thoughts drifted, lingering on the odd feeling of absence before she shifted, her feet meeting the cool wood of the floor.

she stretched her legs, the muscles a little sore from the long hours spent in bed, but a smile tugged at her lips as she rose. she could hear nothing but the faint hum of the house, its vastness almost suffocating at times. their home, this enormous place that seemed to swallow up the sound of footsteps, was still and silent, like the world had forgotten it.

as she walked toward the kitchen, the floor beneath her feet creaked in protest, a familiar sound, and she paused for a moment to listen. the place felt hollow without his presence nearby, the distance between them almost tangible despite the house’s overwhelming size.

it was then, as she rounded the corner into the kitchen, that she saw the flowers. a small, delicate arrangement sat on the dining table beneath the window, next to a pitcher of chamomile tea, bathed in the soft light of the early morning. her breath caught in her throat, and she blinked, momentarily confused. the flowers hadn’t been there the night before.

she moved closer, her bare feet padding softly across the cool, dark wood, the air around her smelling faintly of floral sweetness. each bloom was carefully arranged, and the bright, vibrant colors stood out vividly against the simple backdrop of the dark table. she could feel her pulse quicken, a sense of warmth rushing over her.

she reached out, her fingers brushing against the delicate petals. she hadn’t needed to see him to know he had been here. the arrangement, the quiet care with which it had been placed, spoke volumes.

her fingers gently lifted the small card tucked among the flowers, and her heart fluttered again as she read the simple words:

“for my kitten”

she smiled a soft smile, she had left so much behind when she had come to him, her old life, including the hunter’s association which she had once been loyal to.

and here she was now, standing in the onychinus base, her fingers brushing the soft petals of the flowers she’d received from the most dangerous man around, a silent reminder that despite the dangers of the world, despite the chaos and darkness that came with it, he was here with her always.

a final glance at the bouquet, and she exhaled softly, a feeling of peace washing over her.

her mind wandered back over the past few weeks, no, months. she let herself drift through the memories, each one unfolding slowly in her mind like a delicate scroll as she fiddled with the [jewelry color] ring.

the door creaked open later into the morning, and just like that, he was there. she didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. his presence filled the room, solid and unwavering.

he didn’t speak at first. he simply stood in the doorway, watching her with those intense crimson eyes of his. those eyes softened as they met hers, and she felt the pulse of something shift in the air between them.

a smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and her heart fluttered in response to his gaze. "i love them," she said softly, her voice warm, filled with affection that flowed between them like an unspoken bond.

his gaze deepened, that sharpness in his eyes mixing with something softer, something more vulnerable. he closed the door behind him with a soft click, the sound of it final, sealing them in this moment. then, with deliberate quietness, he stepped forward, his movements fluid, pulling him closer to her.

as he approached, he reached out, his hand brushing against hers, intertwining their fingers. the contact sent a shiver down her spine.

"you know, you deserve so much more than just flowers," he murmured, his voice low and rough, brushing against her.

he said it like he meant it, like he had a thousand things he wanted to give her, none of them wrapped in paper or tied with a bow. just him, all of him.

the space between them disappeared. the air growing thick, almost too much to breathe, but neither of them pulled away. his hand caressed her jaw, tilting her face to meet his, and the way he looked at her made her knees soften, her heart stutter.

when he kissed her, it wasn’t a question. it was a claim. soft at first, yes, but only because he was savoring her. like he’d waited long enough, and now that he had her, he refused to rush. his lips moved against hers with slow heat, coaxing her open, drawing her in until her hands found his shoulders, anchoring herself to him like she might float away.

the kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against hers, and the sound she made was small and involuntary intimate. he swallowed it with a groan that vibrated through his, and her, chest.

their bodies aligned like puzzle pieces rediscovering one another, every curve and plane syncing with ease. his hands roamed with purpose, sliding down her sides, over the swell of her hips, thumbs teasing the edge of her waistband. there was something reverend in his touch, like he was worshipping her with his fingertips. beneath the tenderness was heat and need, restrained only by his respect for her…barely.

clothes became an afterthought, peeled away with kisses and soft gasps, discarded between hungry touches and whispered affirmations.

his hands were big, veined and warm, mapping her body like he was memorizing her all over again, like each inch of skin was sacred. she arched into his palms, into his mouth, into the weight of him pressing her down just enough to feel owned, not overpowered.

he took his time. there was no rush, only indulgence.

her body moved beneath his in the kitchen like it had been waiting for this. the way his fingers traced her inner thigh. the way his mouth traveled the line of her collarbone, slow, open-mouthed kisses leaving fire in their path. the way he moaned her name like it was the only word that ever mattered.

and when he finally slid his thick length into her slowly, with a groan muffled into her shoulder, it felt like something inside her cracked open. she gasped, clinging to him, as they both stilled for a moment, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling.

after a nod of reassurance from [name], sylus slid the rest of himself into her hole. they moved together, finding rhythm and intention. every thrust, every soft bite was a confession.

every whisper,

“yes”

“don’t stop”

“god, you feel so good”

she gave herself to him fully, not just her body, but her trust, her love, her vulnerability. and he received it like he’d been waiting a lifetime to be worthy of it.

his hand cradled her face even as his hips moved with a strength that made her tremble. he kissed her through her moans. he whispered things he’d never said to anyone else.

she cried out his name, as she unraveled, clinging to him as he followed, shuddering with a breathless groan that spilled against her lips.

in the quiet aftermath, her bare skin draped over his chest, one leg hooked around his, her fingers tracing lazy spirals along the lines of muscles. his arm held her tight, grounding her like gravity. the only light came from the afternoon sun spilling in through the windows, casting them in a golden glow.

his eyes lingered on her face as if trying to remember every detail for the rest of his life.

“i’ve got you,” he whispered, voice rough and honest, a sigh, as if he almost didn’t believe it himself.

she chuckled, smiling against his skin. “i know.”

and in that moment, he closed his eyes, his heart full, knowing that whatever the future held, they would face it together.