healmydesires

[healmydesires]

they can't get enough of you — 18+ mdni.ᐟ

content: smut, separate drabbles, p in v, unprotected sex, profanities, breeding, overstimulation, fingering (caleb), cunnilingus and cum eating (caleb & xavier), female reader, non!mc reader

SYLUS

THE dimness of the room added an indescribable sensation to the heavy weight of intimacy lingering around. once, twice, maybe thrice; you don't know anymore. you gave up counting how many times he had you clawing his skin, confessing your blissfulness in a crescendo that had his chest hammering with desire.

your bodies collided with a final snap of his hips. he grunted, pressing your foreheads against each other as your frames shuddered and spasmed from the overwhelming climax.

“oh, sylus,” you moaned, your warm breath fanning against his skin. you were clinging to him for dear life—hands clasped around him, your nails gnawed into his nape—almost at the state of oblivion.

sylus groaned a response, his grip on your buttocks tightening as he rolled his hips, evoking a soft moan from you. he pressed a gentle kiss on the side of your lips and stared at you with his hungry, sharp, desirable crimson orbs as if he's sucking your soul out. “you feel so good, sweetie—so good f'me,” he praises with a low chuckle of exhilaration.

with gentleness, he put you down on the bed, dipping his rigid arms on either side of your head, gritting his teeth as he thrusted deeper, ensuring to fill you up with his essence. every drag of his cock had you clawing his forearms, chanting his name with a delectable mix of pain and pleasure.

his forehead scrunched, mouth slightly agape from oversensitivity, “fuck,” he cursed under his breath, pulling his length out with a wet squelch.

you moaned his name from the emptiness, eyeing how he pumped his cock with a languid gaze; he too. he fluttered his attention from your cunt—gazing how your glistening hole leaks with his cum—then to your glossed eyes, telepathically conveying another permission. “say yes, kitten. i know you wanna get filled some more.”

ugh, you hated it that he's always right.

CALEB

"CALEB!" you gasped in a crescendo, your body trembling for the umpteenth time, fingers tangled on his mussed locks. your mind felt hazy and blank, you could barely even speak properly. you weren't sure for how long he had been there—between your legs—and how much he'd made you cum with just his mouth.

with an exhilarated groan, he pulled back for a moment, licking his lips. “god, look at you,” he chuckled shakily, breathless. caleb stayed right there, watching how your clear essence trickled down from your hole with a sinful gaze, his eyes—a shade of purple—clouded with need, desire.

giving you enough time to breathe, he spat on your cunt and pushed his fingers in with a squelch, chuckling exhilaratedly at how tight and warm the clamp of your walls felt on his fingers. “caleb,” you mewled, your back arching as you fisted the sheet—overstimulated.

“fuck, pips—pussy’s so tight on my fingers,” he groaned along with the push and pull motion of his digits, curling them once at the right spot that made your toes curled before pulling them out.

with glossed vision, you observed how he got up, pumping his hard length and spreading your legs wider. you swallowed; not because you were scared, but because of anticipation. cautiously, he flipped you to your stomach, angling your hips up so you were perfectly arched for him, purposely sliding his fingertips between your folds that dragged a surprised gasp from your lips.

then you felt it—his angry tip pressed against your sensitive clit—circling your nub repeatedly. “caleb,” you whimpered, hips stuttering from his overwhelming stimulation.

he leaned close, his warmth radiating on your back and whispered, “i’m gonna fuck you now, pips—breath,” before plunging himself fully with a hiss, pushing your back further down as he satiated his long-restrained desire.

RAFAYEL

THE room felt heavy, feverish. it was a mess: uneven and wrinkled sheets, discarded clothes cluttered on the floor, fallen items—it screamed chaotic.

your bodies were on the floor, tangled and moving against each other with a maintained cadence, as you both rode out your highs. the marbled floor’s chill bit on your skin that your body shuddered uncontrollably, murmuring sweet confessions of pleasure from the overwhelming release. “rafa—rafayel. rafayel,” you moaned, your voice languid, whispering his name repetitively like you knew no other words.

rafayel whimpered, his hips stuttered, hugging your trembling thighs as he came inside you, “s-shit—cutie, you're gonna drive me nuts if y—so tight,” he breathed, his hip’s movement unrelenting.

you felt hot—not a surprise when you both were literally pressed together—skin to skin, you could feel each other's breaths and heartbeat, your sweats mixed. his warmth radiated exquisitely against you, evoking a small hum from you.

rafayel watched how your pussy spasms and engulfed his cock, indulging in the sweet sounds he drags with every brush of his length. he wasn't quiet; he was whimpering. his thrusts were deep but slow, purposely filling you up with his seed.

“oh—hah—” you bit your lip, humming the rest of your words when he pulled out, his slicked length glistening with your juice. just when you think he was finally done, he rolled you to your side, angling one of your legs back to his shoulder. “rafayel, what're y—ah!”

“nu-uh, we're not done yet, cutie,” he ragged, pushing his cock further into your core. he swallowed, whimpered shamelessly at your tightness. his visage distorted as he squeezed his eyes eyes shut. “you—you feel so good—can’t stop,” he murmured, his eyes shadowed with an inextinguishable flame of desire, hips snapping back to his accustomed pace.

XAVIER

IT was the third time; at least that's what you thought. you weren't sure of how many times he had you screaming with ecstasy, but you’re positively sure that he was far from done with you.

xavier hummed, his face nuzzled hard on your womanhood, eating you out like you were his last meal. his once serene orbs now tainted with greed, desire—unrestrained. “ah—xavier—” you whimpered his name, your hand reflexively tugging on his locks, dragging a reverberating groan from him.

he locked his eyes at you, subtly searching for any discomfort before pressing a light kiss on your clit and pulled back with a soft exhale—a string of spit mixed with your juice connecting his lips—you couldn't help but mewl at the sight. “taste so damn good,” he murmured, pressing a prolonged kiss on your inner thigh—his own way of praising you.

you closed your eyes for a while only to open them back again when you heard the soft clank of his belt. with hooded, glossed eyes, you watched his every movement; from how he zipped his zipper down, to how he sprang his hardened shaft. “oh,” he groaned, his head tipped back as he fisted his cock, pumping it with desperation. you swallowed, mewling at his lewd gestures.

time flashed by so fast, and now you found yourself getting dicked down by him. “prepped you so good, i slid right in easily,” he said, breathless from his harsh rutting.

you whimpered, trembled, and squirmed beneath him, “x-xav—slow d—”

“please, no, don't make me—let me fuck you the way i want, please. say it—been waiting for this,” he murmured, desperation lacing in his voice. you knew xavier wasn't the one to talk much, but here he was right now—begging for you to let him fuck you however he wants.

ZAYNE

ZAYNE wasn't the type who engages in long intimate sessions; that's what you thought. you were wrong; he gets insatiable and needy when things get too…out of control.

this was just supposed to be a short cuddling session, but then again, fate had other plans. things just got a little heated and ended up with a hardcore exchange of desires.

now, he had you pressed beneath him: hands coiled around him desperately, as if grasping with your last string of sanity; throat raspy and dry from screaming his name like it were your own hymn.

he didn't know what had happened to him but he loved everything that's happening right now. the way he evoked those sinful yet melodious sounds from you just made his libido rise—desire overshadowing his other emotions.

“hah—oh, zayne—so deep,” you moaned in between ragged breaths. his thrusts were precise, angled and perfectly hitting your depths that made your toes curl on the sheets.

zayne grunted, his hips moved with the same pace—deep, rhythmic—that had you creaming his cock for the umpteenth time.

then you felt it, “oh—i’m close, zayne—so close, please—please,” you cried, fresh tears brimming on your eyes as his hips snapped—giving you what you wanted.

and as if on cue, you came. your body convulsed uncontrollably from the overwhelming pleasure he gave.

it took you a moment to finally come down, and when you finally did, he lifted your legs up, hooking them over his shoulders. “zay—zayne!”

“shh, just one more. i promise.”

╰﹒ⵌ﹒ masterlist﹒ⵌ﹒ join permanent taglist here

a/n: what is wrong with me?!! >w< my fingers feels like they're on autopilot when it comes to lads grwabwhjwwnw TT (i think i messed this up:<)

© 2025 SERAFIENE ֪ ׅ ֹ do not copy, translate, and repost!

[healmydesires]

IM SCREAMING FROM THE MOUNTAINSSSSS COWBOY SYLUS FANTASY RETURNS WITH A BURNIN SOUTHERN PASSION ART BY CHIMCHILLA

This makes me want to write!!! Cookin up a cowboy sylus drabble as we speak!!

[healmydesires]

[healmydesires]

𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒉 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

pairing: husband!sylus x reader

genre: romantic comedy, dramatic & hopeless romantic sylus.

a/n: this is one of my few longer fics in a while, but honestly, I couldn’t resist diving into all those dramatic Sylus moments. There’s just something about his hopeless romantic vibes and over-the-top mood swings that I love to write so here we are! Thanks for sticking with me through his emotional rollercoaster. Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed bringing this messy, dramatic love story to life. <3

It was day 12. The first week had been bearable. Video calls every night, her sleepy voice teasing him. He’d smiled, genuinely smiled when she called him “Boss-man” in a fake serious tone, just to make the twins laugh.

But now the entire house was dead silent, too silent. Not a single note played from the vintage record player nestled in the corner of his office. No familiar crackle of vinyl, no strings swelling from his favourite piece, not even the slow, melancholic piano track he usually let play when reviewing reports. Just silence.

Sylus sat behind his desk, eyes flicking over business deals without truly reading them, fingers motionless on the keyboard. The untouched vinyl on the turntable had finished spinning twenty minutes ago. He hadn't even noticed.

Luke passed by the office, did a double-take, then slowly backed up and whispered over to Kieran. "He's not playing anything. Not a single record. I think something's wrong." Kieran’s voice came through, hushed and slightly horrified.

Inside the office, Sylus exhaled quietly and leaned back in his chair. His gaze flicked to the corner where your favourite record sat on the shelf, the one you’d danced to in this very room when he first played it for you after a mission. You’d spun around in his oversized button-up shirt, laughing and dancing. 

But now… The video calls had stopped and were instead replaced by short text messages.

[Kitten 💌💍] Safe. Will message again after. I love you. ❤️

And then silence. Twelve hours. Sixteen. Twenty. Today, the only thing he received was:

[Kitten 💌💍] Alive. Compromised zone. Will explain later. Love you

Short. Blunt. No video calls, no update, but still ending with “Love you.” That alone had kept him functioning for the last thirty-six hours.

He exhaled through his nose, the tension in his shoulders easing just enough to remind him how tightly he’d been holding it all in. His fingers were already flying across the screen.

'I miss you more than I can say. Come home soon. I’m making your favourite curry tonight.'

He hit send. Then, without a word, he pushed himself up from the desk and walked to the record player. Click. The familiar static crackled to life, followed by the opening notes of your favourite piece, the one you always swayed to, even when you were too tired to stand properly. The music filled the room, soft and slow, as Sylus leaned back against the desk, arms folded, eyes closed.

“He’s... smiling.” Luke leaned forward, squinting. “Wait, is that? Oh my god. It is. It’s the real smile after so many days. The one where his eye twitches and everything.”

“Yeah,” Kieran muttered. “She must’ve messaged.” Luke stepped back dramatically, hand on chest. “And just like that… the boss-man sleeps again.” Kieran nodded solemnly. “It’s official. She’s his emotional support.”

Around 8 PM, Luke and Kieran crept into the kitchen just in time for dinner and to their surprise… in front of the stovetop, Sylus stood in a cloud of fragrant steam, apron tied around his waist, sleeves rolled up. His voice floated out dramatically. “Coriander. That was the missing touch. She always said I forget the coriander…”

Luke whispered, “Oh no, he’s full domestic spiral.” Kieran nodded. “It’s happening. Husband Withdrawal Syndrome.”

Sylus ignored them, humming softly under his breath something low and vaguely romantic as he moved from the stove to the bench, plating food with way more care than was necessary for a Tuesday night.

“You okay, Boss-man?” Luke tried. Sylus sighed deeply. “I’ve cooked this dish fourteen times with her, and now it’s my first time cooking it alone.”

Then, Sylus began plating not one, not two, but four full servings. Each, neatly arranged and there, at the end of the row, he pulled out her favourite plate, the purple ceramic one with a matching spoon, her favourite glass on a lace coaster.

The twins slowly realised he wasn’t just making dinner. He was making dinner for her. Even though she was still in Skyhaven, even though she hadn’t called in three days, even though the curry would be cold before she could even read his last message. He sat down across from her plate, gazing at it fondly. “Eat well, my love,” he whispered toward the empty seat… and then took a bite like he was eating her memory.

The twins just quietly grabbed their food and walked backwards out of the room. “Do we check on him tomorrow?”

“If she doesn’t call soon, we’re gonna find him slow dancing with Mephisto.” Luke snorted

As Day 22 approached, everyone around Sylus knew better than to linger, unless they had a death wish or a bulletproof emotional shield. The last guy who tried small talk nearly got his wrist dislocated for asking how he was.

Sylus wasn’t even supposed to be in Linkon that long. It should’ve been just one meeting, a quick intel swap and then home. But the moment he wrapped things up, his legs took him straight to that café, the tiny one tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop, the one with her favourite tiramisu. Back when they were still dating, he used to sneak away during business meetings just to see her there. She’d always order raspberry tea and pull him down by the collar the second he sat, pressing a kiss to his cheek like it had been weeks instead of days. Now? Now it had been twenty-two. Twenty-two days.

And the only person he wanted to eat with was off fighting wanderers and dealing with energy fulcations near Skyhaven, only able to send him short little updates like, “Still breathing. Also, I accidentally broke my bracelet 🙁.” So, yeah he was tense.

The bell above the café door chimed softly as Sylus walked in, shoulders tense, jaw tight. Luke and Kieran followed a few paces behind, both moving with the caution of men escorting a ticking time bomb in a public space. “He hasn’t said anything in ten minutes,” Luke whispered. “Yeah,” Kieran muttered back. “It’s too quiet. Something’s brewing.”

Sylus headed to the usual table, the one by the window where he and his wife used to sit every time they were in Linkon. He didn’t speak, just stared out the glass like it had personally betrayed him.

And that’s when he saw them. A couple across the café, laughing, sharing cake and holding hands across the table. The guy even tucked a loose strand of hair behind the girl’s ear and leaned in to kiss her temple.

Sylus froze. His brow twitched, then furrowed; he locked into an expression Kieran privately referred to as "emotional storm warning.” Luke’s eyes went wide. Kieran whispered, “Oh, no. He’s about to”

Luke stepped in, gripping Sylus’s arm. “Boss-man. No. Deep breaths.” Sylus scowled as he continued to glare a hole just staring at this couple. Luke snapped. “We’ve been over this, other people are allowed to have relationships!” Sylus crossed his arms like he was being personally wronged. 

They ended up grabbing takeaway and heading out of the café before Sylus could start burning everything down. He was still sulking, the paper bag with an extra slice of tiramisu dangling from his hand.

But then, Kieran stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes went wide. “Wait. Is that?” He gasped. “Miss Hunter.” Luke spun around. “No way. Are you sure?”

Sylus rolled his eyes. “Very funny. What is it this time? A cardboard cutout? A hallucination? Mephisto wearing her hoodie?” But before Luke could answer, a familiar voice called out behind them, “Sylus!”

He barely had time to turn before he felt it, her arms, wrapping around him from behind, locking him in place like a heartbeat he thought he’d lost.

Sylus blinked once. Then slowly turned around in her arms, still holding the café bag, like he’d just been punched in the chest by joy. “You’re here,” he said softly, like the words might shatter if he said them too loudly. “I’m here,” she smiled. “Mission ended early. Figured I’d pick up some dessert before heading home, but it seems like you got here first”. Sylus dropped the tiramisu bag and crushed her into a full embrace mid-sentence.

He didn’t answer; instead, he just kissed her. Hard. Desperate. Like he had something to prove. One hand still cradling her jaw, the other wrapping firmly around her waist as he pulled her in closer, pressing every inch of himself into that kiss like she’d been air and he’d been drowning. Her fingers curled in his jacket as she kissed him back with just as much heat, standing on her toes to match his intensity.

Luke audibly cleared his throat. Kieran turned his back around. “I am not paid enough to witness this.” Sylus pulled away just slightly, forehead still pressed against hers, his voice low. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“End a mission early?”

“Come back looking that pretty. I nearly passed out.”

She laughed, brushing her thumb along his cheek.

Luke muttered, “God, they’re so married.” Kieran sighed. “Yeah. But at least he’s not threatening to stab people for mentioning their partners anymore.”

“Home?” she asked.

“Home,” he smiled back.

But not before one more kiss, this time softer, slower, and just for them.

[healmydesires]

My Awkward Boss

read the manga “we can't do just plain love” and got inspired

Trigger warnings: awkward!sylus, clumsy!sylus, male masturbation, size kink, boss x assistant relationship, blushing Sylus, pathetic!sylus?, Sylus and reader fantasize about one another

A month had passed since you started working at N109 Tech Company. You had managed to secure the position as the CEO’s executive assistant. In the weeks you had been there, two things had made themselves abundantly clear; you had a thing for men who looked as though they could manhandle you into any position they wanted to, and your boss, Sylus Qin, fit that very part.

Unfortunately, he was sort of on the awkward side.

Every day from your cutely decorated desk, you watched as he’d step off the elevator while tugging at his pressed tie and fumbling with the stack of papers he left with the night before. The poor folders held coffee stains and creases as he returned them to you. Whenever he’d stand before your desk, his eyes seemed to look at everything but you.

It left you wondering if he found you unappealing.

Fearing you would bring shame to the company, you made sure to wake up a little early on the days you’d be going into the office just to get ready. Stray hairs were tamed and the lightest amount of makeup was applied to your face. Your very first paycheck was used to purchase more formal clothing.

The day you showed up to the office dressed in shapely, black slacks and a pink silk shirt that had a bow at the collar, you watched as Sylus glanced at you, offering his usual good morning before he did a double-take, bumping into the threshold of his office door.

“Mr. Qin, are you alright!”

His words seemed to get caught in his throat as he fumbled to come up with a response. He brought a nervous hand up to slick back his hair and pushed his thin-rimmed glasses up his nose as they had slid down from the force of the impact.

You had made your way over to him, picking up the folders that fell from his grasp, neatly organizing them, and handing them to him.

“I-I…Yes! I’m-I’m fine. Thank you.”

The sight of his cheeks burning an adorable pink will forever be etched into your mind.

Since that day, he has had an even harder time maintaining eye contact with you. Now when he had to go to you, to offer himself a distraction, he developed the habit of messing with the little figurines you had so neatly placed on your desk.

It was too bad that most of the time, you’d be the one going to him.

He recognized the way you knocked, quickly running a hand down the front of his shirt to smooth out any wrinkles and straightening his slouched position. There was nowhere for him to run when you stepped into his office, so he busied himself with randomly clicking on his monitor, pressing random keys.

He’d make sure to listen to everything you had to say, stealing glances at your figure as your eyes trailed over the notes you had written down on a pink notepad.

Unbeknownst to you, his eyes would linger every once and a while. From the soft curve of your jaw to the slope that made up your thighs, he ended up having to clasp his hands together before him, thumbnail picking at the skin. He’d thank you for any updates, offering a quick praise, watching as you gave him a soft smile before shutting the door behind you.

With the smell of your perfume lingering in his office and your pretty face flashing throughout his mind, he focused on the fact that his slacks had grown significantly tighter. In a skittish manner, he hurriedly pulled up the footage that gave him a live view of you at your desk. Looking at the time, relieved that he had forty-five minutes before he had to attend a meeting, he pulled himself out of his pants.

The head of his cock was wet from the pearlescent beads that had managed to spill out. Spitting a fat glob of saliva onto his palm, a guttural moan left him as he took himself into his hand. He started slow, watching the monitor where you stood, signing for a package delivery.

“S’fucking pretty.” He moaned, imagining it was your tongue swirling around the mushroom tip and not his finger. “So sweet…so fucking sweet for me…”

He could only assume you’d have a hard time taking him into your mouth due to the size but your eagerness to please would only fuel you as he noticed the sparkle in your eyes every time he praised you.

His hips bucked as you bent over, awarding him with the sight of your ass. He cursed as he envisioned what it would be like to squeeze the shapely globes as he fucked you from behind. The jiggle that appeared after his pelvis met your behind would surely have him painting your back with thick ropes of white.

With his head tilting back against the leather seat and his mouth falling open, his grip tightened, pace quickening.

“Need your mouth on me, sweetie…ngh-ah…need-ah-to feel how warm and wet you are. Bet that cunt of yours would-would struggle to take me…ngh-not to worry-make it fit…we’ll make it fit, w-won’t we, sweetie?”

He could feel how his abdomen flexed and his balls drew up before spilling his seed into his free hand. All the air in his lungs left him for a few seconds, the orgasmic sensation taking over his whole body. Your name fell from his lips like a whispered prayer as his eyes found you on his monitor once more.

You were wearing that adorable little frown that appeared when you were busy typing away.

Immediately after catching his breath, he made quick work of cleaning himself up and tucking himself back into his slacks. He went back to his many emails for the next few minutes, stopping when it was time to go to the fourth floor for his meeting.

You were already waiting for him by the time he stepped out of his office, the leather portfolio you used for note-taking clutched against your chest. The beating of his heart picked up as you beamed at him.

“I was worried we’d be late! Ready, Mr. Qin?”

“I told you to call me Sylus.” He muttered in an almost child-like manner as the two of you made your way towards the elevator. “I’m not that much older than you.”

You giggled, the sound causing his cheeks to burn.

“Still, you’re not only my senior, but my boss too.”

A pleasant silence filled the elevator once the door closed only to be disrupted when it stopped a few floors away from your destination. The other employees piled into the metal shaft, greeting their boss with cheerful words and large grins.

Sylus and you were forced together into a corner, his arm coming to lie against the wall to prevent you from being squished. His broad figure caged you, protected you from all the nudging and pushing.

You couldn’t ignore how your face burned, your eyes choosing to settle on his golden tie pin instead of his god-like face. It didn’t help that he suddenly found the courage to look you in the eye, his head tilted down towards yours. You could feel the air that escaped from his nose brush against your forehead.

The man’s stature made him imposing from afar but your current position was proof that if he wanted to, he could wrangle you into whatever position he desired. His bicep flexed under his suit jacket, the muscles pressing up against the cloth as he held himself off of you.

Even the width of his chest seem to grow in size. You were a hundred percent sure he had the stamina and strength to push you against a wall and eat you out, all while holding you up on his own.

While he was dorky at times and kind of a klutz, you knew under all those dry-cleaned button-ups, pressed slacks, and high-end shoes, was an impressive body that resembled those crafted out of porcelain. If the length of his fingers and hand size were any indication of what he carried between his legs, you’d have a hard time sitting comfortably after spending the night with him.

Surely you’d be able to make it work. If those R-rated videos taught you something, it was that the human body could withstand a lot more than one would think possible. You just needed a smidge of courage and a whole lot of lube.

While you were transfixed on the dirty thoughts playing in your mind, Sylus was preening like a peacock. He was unconsciously trying to impress you as he made his chest puff out and the breadth of his shoulders grew.

At a certain moment, your bodies were forced together, and a gasp pulled from your chest. The two of you refused to move, fearing what reactions this would pull from your body, but it was too late.

You could feel the heat radiating off of Sylus’ cock, the length of it digging into your tummy. Mustering up the courage, you looked up at him, only to freeze as his ruby colored eyes were clouded with what you could only assume was lust. His jaw clenched. While his cheeks burned from embarrassment, yours were from interest.

Though your reactions had different meanings, the words filtering throughout your mind were the same.

“Fuck me.”

Had a lot of fun writing this tbh. Not edited but enjoy either way, lovelies

[healmydesires]

MISS SITTER ! — SYLUS QIN

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ : including — warnings !! fem!babysitter reader, dilf!sylus + yearning sylus, mutual pining, kitchen sex, sylus being a pleasure dom as per usual, dumbification? girl dad sylus, fingering, mention of kitty cards lol, cutesy ending [♡₊˚ ♕]: her highness's decree: I hope this is good! I don't usually write big ficsss. word count: 6.8k (1k follower event! 1 of 5)

[౨ৎ] synopsis: It starts with coloring books and bedtime stories, soft hums in the kitchen and the quiet lull of a little girl’s laughter. Babysitting was supposed to be temporary—just a way to help Mr. Qin while he found his footing as a single father. But then, his home started to feel like yours too. His daughter curled into your side like you were made for her. Your mug sat beside the sink like it belonged there.

Sylus Qin was never just a grieving father. He was composed, sharp—always a little too still when you caught him watching you. His gaze held weight, and when he smiled, it felt like it meant something. At first, it was harmless: a brush of fingers, soft compliments, unspoken warmth. But the looks started to linger. The space between you got smaller. Tighter. Thicker with something neither of you dared name.

[♕]: want more of sylus? check out--> this masterlist

It almost felt sinful to look at someone so sweet, so pure in such a way. To see that sweet smile of yours, the grace in your very breath as you care for his daughter with such love one would think you gave birth to her, and want nothing more than to press your body against his and feel what that kindness might sound like in a gasp.

To imagine your soft hands, so gentle with coloring books and bedtime stories, curled into his shirt. Your lips parted not in a lullaby, but in a sweet gasp meant only for his ears.

Sylus had never thought of himself as selfish. Not when it came to love. He'd given, lost, endured. He'd loved Elsie's mother once—young and foolish and full of possibility—but it hadn’t held the weight of what he felt now, watching you laugh with his daughter like you belonged in every corner of this house.

When you first started working, it was just supposed to be help. A bit of structure. A break for him. Someone kind to watch over Elsie while he picked up the pieces of his days.

He didn’t expect the way you’d fill the space—not just the house, but him. How your laugh would echo down the hall and settle under his skin. How the sight of your shoes by the door, your mug in the sink, would start to feel like home.

He’d told himself not to look too long. Not to let his eyes linger when you knelt beside Elsie with that patient, quiet warmth. Not to notice the way your face softened when you thought no one was watching, or how you always seemed to hum under your breath when you made dinner.

But he did notice, alot of things actually.

The way your nose scrunched when you tasted soup straight off the wooden spoon. How your shoulders would rise and fall with the rhythm of whatever lullaby you sang under your breath while folding her laundry.

He noticed how you always reached for Elsie before you reached for yourself. How you tucked her in a little tighter when she had nightmares, how you never hesitated to press a kiss to her forehead like you’d been doing it forever.

How you said his name sometimes—quietly, like it meant more than either of you were ready to admit.

And you did too.

The way your eyes found his when you laughed, like he was the only one you wanted to share it with. How your fingers would brush his arm when you passed him something small—like a spoon, or a towel—but lingered just a beat too long. The way your breath would catch, just barely, when he leaned too close to reach over your shoulder at the stove.

The mornings he came back from a run, sweat dampening his shirt and hair tousled, and you bit the inside of your cheek, like you were trying not to think about what was under all that black cotton.

And yet, there were nights—quiet, slow-burning nights like this—when he watched you from across the kitchen and felt the ever growing itch of wanting more. Low eyes trailing over your soft features as you read to Elsie on the couch, who was cuddled into your side teddy bear in her grasps as you read her another fairytale.

Your voice—the most sweet yet seductive sound—coated each word like honey, every breath a fantasy that tugged and pulled at his very being every second you lingered around.

Standing at the sink, water ran warm over his hands, though he barely registered the heat. The dishes blurred in his periphery, long forgotten as he watched you from the corner of his ruby eyes. Your glossed lips curling around each line of the story—soft, expressive, and full of life—erking a throb in his slacks and a breath that didn't know he was holding, as his gaze trailed down to your bare legs.

Your cute sweater dress stopping just mid-thigh, leaving delicious, smooth skin curled under you like silk where you sat—legs tucked beneath you, warm and casual. Sylus’s jaw clenched slightly, a muscle ticking as he forced himself to look away, scrubbing at a plate with more force than necessary.

It wasn’t simply lust. If it were, it’d be ten times easier to ignore—something he could shrug off, bury, forget. But this... this was deeper. It was the way you’d brush Elsie’s sliver hair behind her ear with that tender touch. How your laughter had settled into the house like a second heartbeat. The way your 'best babysitter' mug still sat beside the sink every morning, like a soft claim you didn’t even know you were making.

And now, here you were—legs bare, lips soft, voice wrapping around each word like it was meant just for him—while he stood across the room trying not to let the scent of your perfume ruin his goddamn composure.

He looked up again.

Like a fool.

And you were smiling. Right at him, like you’d felt the weight of his gaze and didn’t mind it. Didn’t fear it. The corners of your mouth curled, eyes glittering with something playful—something knowing—and it knocked the breath right out of his lungs.

He swallowed hard, his voice low when he finally managed to speak.

“You always make it sound better than the book does,” he said, voice low, almost fond. Water ran over porcelain in his hands. “She’s gonna expect every bedtime story to sound like that now.”

You giggled softly from the couch, your voice barely above a whisper so as not to stir the sleeping girl curled into your side. “Thank you, Mr. Qin,” you murmured, a playful lilt to your tone. “If she does, I’d be more than happy to read to this sweet girl any time of day.”

Your fingers moved gently, rubbing Elsie’s small shoulder beneath the cozy blanket draped over both of you. Her tiny hand was still wrapped around the ear of her plush crow, breathing slow and peaceful.

“It’s honestly therapeutic for me as well,” you added, eyes shimmering with something quiet and full—love, comfort, the soft ache of belonging.

Sylus paused, His fingers stilled under the running water, just watching. The sight of you there—barely illuminated by the soft amber glow of the standing lamp, with Elsie nestled safely into your side—did something to him he couldn’t quite name.

God, if you only knew.

The scent of soap and sugar cookies, the quiet rise and fall of Elsie’s sleepy breath as she curled tighter into your side. He turned off the water slowly, dried his hands on the dish towel, and leaned back against the counter, eyes still on you.

“Would you want a glass of wine?” he asked, voice casual, but gaze anything but. You nodded softly, adjusting your position as you closed the book, your fingertips brushing over Elsie’s hair. “I’d like that," A soft smile gracing your features as you peered down at the young girl.

"Though I'd better get sleeping beauty to bed before she drools all over your nice cushions." You joked softly, brushing a loose strand of hair from Elsie’s cheek.

Sylus smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes—not all the way. Heart aching the way your hand lingered at the girl’s temple, gentle and fond, like you were made for her. For soft evenings and lullabies and folding into the corners of someone else's life like you’d always been meant to fill them.

“I’ll get the glasses,” he murmured, voice low and brushed with something too warm to be casual. You nodded, lifting Elsie with a quiet murmur that made Sylus’s chest ache. Her head lulled onto your shoulder. Eyes trailing on the sway of your hips as you padded down the hall—bare legs and your dress a little high on your thighs nearly undoing him all over again.

The second you were out of sight, Sylus exhaled, fingers curling around the edge of the kitchen counter like it could anchor him. Like it could keep him from stepping over a line he hadn’t even realized he’d been toeing for weeks.

The wine bottle sat untouched for a moment. Then he reached for it.

By the time you returned—hair slightly mussed, cheeks pink from bedtime whispers—he’d poured two glasses. The lights were dimmer now, the kitchen quieter. Closer. He held one out to you.

You took it without a word, fingers brushing his again. The contact was brief but electric, enough to shoot warmth up his arm and settle low in his stomach.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice softer than before. Your eyes met his for a beat too long. And God help him, he didn’t look away.

He watched as you brought the rim of the glass to your lips, the curve of your mouth catching the edge with such quiet elegance it hurt. Everything about you was effortlessly captivating—your scent faintly honeyed from the shampoo in your hair, the glow on your cheeks from the warmth of the house and something else. Something unspoken but undeniable that stretched tight between you both.

“Sometimes I think you’re doing a better job than me. It almost looks too easy for you,” Sylus commented, his voice tinged with a low warmth, lips twitching into that crooked, charming smirk that made your stomach flutter. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to steal my daughter's heart and my job.”

A soft laugh escaped you, light and genuine, as you shook your head and set your glass down on the counter with a gentle clink. You looked up at him, the white-haired man standing there with that disarming ease, and smiled—soft, a little shy.

“It’s only easy,” you said quietly, “because loving her is easy. Watching over Elise, taking care of her… that’s not work for me. That’s a delight. I couldn't have asked for a sweeter girl to take care of.”

Your hand lifted, fingertips grazing his forearm with a featherlight touch. His skin warmed beneath your touch, and though his body remained still, you felt the shift in the air—the way his gaze sharpened, zeroed in on you like he could read the deeper meaning behind your words.

“But you,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper now, “you do the work no one sees. You make the space safe for her to play in. You carry the weight. Don’t discredit yourself for that, Mr. Qin. You’re doing more than just ‘a good job.’ You’re raising her.”

“And honestly,” you said with a soft laugh, “it’s not every day you hear a little girl brag about her dad treating her like a literal princess. Tiaras and all.”

Sylus’s jaw ticked, like he was holding something back. He huffed a quiet, amused breath—but the look he gave you was anything but casual. “Thank you,” he murmured, voice low and rough around the edges. “Aren’t you sweet.”

His eyes dropped to your lips—just for a heartbeat—before finding yours again, and the heat behind them made your breath stutter. A slow smile tugged at his mouth, dark and fond.

“I'm simply saying what I see sir.” The playful lilt in your tone contrasted with the gravity in your eyes, which never left his.

Then, just as the moment felt poised to tip into something more—closer, deeper—your phone buzzed sharply against the counter, cutting through the tension like a blade. You sighed, rolling your eyes as you reached for it, screen lighting up with a flurry of texts.

No surprise—it was your friends.

In hindsight, telling them you babysit for possibly the hottest, most devastatingly well-put-together dilf in the city might’ve been a tactical error. You should’ve known better than to feed their curiosity. Especially when you, of all people, were the one struggling not to fold every time he looked at you like that.

Sylus glanced over, eyebrows raised. “Boyfriend?”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you typed a quick reply before flipping your phone face down. “No, no. Haven’t been anywhere near the dating scene in a while,” you breathed out, your eyes drifting from the countertop back to him, heart picking up speed when your gaze met his once more.

“Oh?” he murmured, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

God you were weak for this man, you had half the mind to just pounce on him then and there as he tilted his head.

Pressing your lips into a brief line, you nodded with a gentle smile. “I’ve been more than satisfied with my..current situation lately. Haven’t really had much space in my head for anyone else.”

"Current situation?"

“Yeah… like, I’m happy with what I’m doing right now,” you said, your tone light but shy, eyes darting to the countertop like it might rescue you from the way he was looking at you. He leaned in slightly, voice smooth and amused. “Which is what, exactly? Simply being my daughter’s sitter?”

You shot him a playful glare, hand lifting dramatically to your chest. “Excuse me—I’ll have you know I take my role as resident snack supplier, fairy tale reader, and tea party guest very seriously.” That earned a low chuckle from him—deep and velvety—the kind that settled warm in your belly and left your mind spinning.

“I’d never doubt your dedication,” he said, the corner of his mouth tugging into that infuriatingly crooked smirk. “I’m well aware of how much you adore my princess. But,” he added, lifting his wine glass for a slow sip, “I’m simply wondering if all that adoration is distracting you from having a love life.”

He spoke casually, but his eyes didn’t waver—watching you closely over the rim of his glass. “Do you need some time off? I’d completely understand if you did, really. I’d have no trouble finding another sitter while you’re on break—”

Your brows drew together as you straightened slightly. “No,” you said, maybe a little too fast. His brow raising in amusement, “I mean—thank you, but… no.”

That teasing glint in his eyes didn’t fade, but something softer joined it as you smiled. Just a little—small but honest, the kind that curled at the corners. “I like being here. With you two. More than I probably should,” you breathed, the truth in your voice soft and unguarded.

Sylus's head tilted, the light from the kitchen casting a soft glow along the sharp lines of his face. “Is that such a crime?” he asked, the question lilting with amusement, but something more meaningful beneath it.

Your lips parted like you might hesitate, but the answer tumbled out too quickly—again. “No! Of course not.” His smile deepened, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in that maddening, knowing way that made your stomach twist. “So,” he drawled, voice low and teasing, “What's so wrong of you growing fond of me?”

Your face went warm immediately. “I didn't say that.”

He leaned in the tiniest bit. “You didn’t have to.” You scoffed, shaking your head as you tried—poorly—to hide your flustered smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Am I now?” he challenged gently, closing the distance before you could come up with a proper retort. Your breath caught as his hand came up, fingers brushing against your cheek again, his thumb stroking just below your eye with quiet reverence. Your eyes widened—surprised, flustered, not quite sure what to do with the intimacy curling around the moment.

He smirked, gaze dropping briefly to your lips before finding your eyes again. “Didn’t think so.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but nothing came out—not when he was standing that close, not with the way his touch lingered so deliberately. The warmth of his palm, the playfulness in his expression, the fact that he could read you far too easily—it unraveled you in real time.

Ruby eyes swept slowly across your face, lingering just a moment too long on the curve of your lips, the rise of your flushed cheeks. Then he leaned in, close enough that his breath ghosted against your skin, warm and unhurried.

“Who’s to say I haven’t grown a bit fond of you too, Miss Sitter?” Sylus murmured, his voice low and smooth as velvet, laced with that teasing lilt that always made your stomach flutter. The sound of it curled around your spine like smoke, thick and slow and impossible to ignore.

Your breath hitched.

But before you could reply, he drew back just slightly—not far, just enough to see your face. And when he did, he paused. The teasing edge faded from his expression as his gaze caught yours fully.

You were dazed, eyes wide and soft, lips parted like a response had been on the tip of your tongue and slipped away. Not even realizing you’d leaned into him until his hand lifted to gently steady your jaw, fingers barely brushing your skin.

“…You have?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, laced with disbelief. His eyes searched yours—sharp and warm, flickering between playful and reverent—and the corners of his mouth curved into a slow, knowing smile. Your lashes fluttered, gaze dipping—unconscious, instinctive—to the soft curve of his lips.

You didn’t mean to. But you looked. And he saw it.

He leaned in just a little more, close enough for your breaths to mix, for your heart to forget what rhythm even meant. A low chuckle ghosted past his lips as he whispered, “Want to see how much?”

And you—barely aware you were doing it—nodded. Small. Slow. Like a tether giving in to the pull that had been dragging you toward him from the beginning.

That was all he needed.

His mouth met yours in a kiss that was anything but tentative. Deep. Slow. Unapologetically intense. The kind of kiss that melted thought, that burned behind your ribs and made your knees forget how to hold your weight.

You melted into him, your lips parting to welcome the heat, your body leaning closer as if you could disappear entirely into that space between you. Your hands slid up his chest, tracing the strong lines beneath his shirt, fingers trembling with need and something deeper—something urgent yet tender.

A shaky exhale escaped Sylus as his hands slid to your waist, drawing you in with slow, deliberate care. Then he paused, just barely pulling back. The taste of strawberry gloss still lingered on his lips as he looked down at you, red eyes searching, voice low and almost reverent.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his thumb brushing gently along your side, grounding you with his touch.

You nodded, breath catching, heart hammering beneath your ribs.

That butterfly-inducing smirk crept back onto his face—slow, knowing, devastating. And then his lips were on yours again, deeper this time, with purpose.

His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer, anchoring you against him as his mouth moved with yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as your hands found his chest, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt for balance.

Thighs pressing together, the ache between them pulsing with quiet urgency, heat building low as you struggled to steady yourself under the weight of him.

His hand at your waist drifted lower, fingers tightening around your hip as he guided you closer—until your bodies were flush, no space left between you. A soft gasp slipped from your lips as you felt the firm press of him against your core, the heat of it stealing your breath.

He took advantage of the opening, his tongue sliding into your mouth with practiced ease, deepening the kiss until it bordered on dizzying.

A sweet, breathy moan escaped you, your hands trailing higher across his chest, fingers curling into the fabric as if anchoring yourself to him—to the way he made you feel like the ground was slipping away beneath your feet.

Veiny hands gripped tighter at your hips, and before you could blink, he was lifting you—strong fingers curling beneath your thighs with an ease that made your breath hitch. A startled sound escaped your lips as he set you gently on the edge of the counter, your back brushing the sleek black cupboards behind you.

The marble cool against your thighs, but Sylus’s body between your knees was anything but. He stepped closer, fitting himself against you with maddening precision, the kiss deepening as a hand slid up your thigh under your dress.

Lips leaving yours only to trail a slow path down the column of your throat, the fan of his breath dancing over your skin before his mouth captured a sensitive spot just beneath your jaw. A soft whimper spilling from your lips, your head tilting back to give him more.

“Sylus...” you breathed hesitantly, fingers threading nervously through the pale strands at the back of his head, holding him close as his mouth traced fire along your neck, your collarbone, the edge of your shoulder.

Fuck, your voice was going to kill him.

A low groan escaped him at the sound of that name on your lips, his grip on your waist tightening as you arched into his touch. “Say that again—say my name again.” His teeth grazed your pulse point, making you shiver, a teasing nibble pulling soft whimpers and gasps from you.

“S-sylus, hah, please—” you whispered, the word catching on a moan as his tongue soothed over the bite. You could feel the smirk pressed against your skin, warm and wicked, just before he mouthed along the edge of your sweater’s neckline—his fingers slipping beneath the hem, tracing your thighs as if testing how far he could push, how much of you he could claim.

His fingers curled under the hem, dragging the soft fabric higher and higher until your sweater dress was bunched around your hips, exposing bare skin to the cool air—and to him. The warmth of his palms contrasted the chill, a slow sweep over your thighs that made your breath catch.

“Please...” your voice trembled, thick with want, with need that had been steadily building with every brush of his mouth, every whispered word. “I… I want you.”

—

And that’s how you ended up shaking in Sylus’s kitchen, his knuckles deep inside your cunny, your head lolled back against the cupboards as you bit your lip trying to stay quiet. The soft, wet sounds of his fingers moving in and out of you filled the dim room, obscene in the quiet stillness of the house.

Your thighs trembled on either side of his hips, heels digging into the edge of the counter, trying to ground yourself against the waves of pleasure rolling through you. “Shh,” he whispered, breath hot against the curve of your neck, “you don’t wanna wake my princess, do you?”

You shook your head quickly, biting down harder on your bottom lip in a desperate attempt to stay quiet. But then his fingers curled just right, hitting a spot that made your entire body jolt—your hips twitching, a muffled whimper slipping out before you could stop it.

“M'sorry, it’s just—you're so—!”

The words tumbled out half-formed, breathless, strung between pleasure and overwhelmed awe, your voice cracking on the edge of control.

Sylus chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the way you writhed under his touch, your slick coating his fingers, your walls fluttering around him. “ You don't have to try so hard to be quiet sweetie,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he pressed a third finger in, slow but firm, stretching you just enough to make your eyes roll back. “You don’t have to hide how good it feels. Just be soft for me. Just like this.”

You clung to his shoulders, nails digging in through the thin fabric of his button up, your breath coming in desperate, quiet pants. “M'trying Sylus, but hah I—I can’t…” His fingers slowed, just slightly, just enough to make your hips chase the friction. He smiled against your neck, nipping lightly before whispering, “You can. You can be good for me, miss helper. Just let go."

And with that, his thumb brushed against your clit in slow, practiced circles—cruel in their softness, devastating in their effect.

Your thighs tightened around him, the pleasure building too fast to hold back. Your muffled cry was lost in the crook of his neck as you came undone around his fingers, body trembling, chest heaving, you cunt clenching tight around his digits.

Sylus worked you through it, murmuring soft praise, brushing kisses across your temple, your cheek, your lips. “Such a perfect angel, such a sweet girl,” he breathed, withdrawing his fingers with care, bringing them to his lips and sucking them clean, eyes locked on your dazed ones. "You still with me, sweetheart?" His voice low, coaxing.

You nodded, slow and hazy, eyes half-lidded, feeling your core throb with desire seeing him suck his digits covered with your slick into his mouth. “Mhm…I just,” you breathed, hands trailing down his chest, fingertips brushing the edge of his shirt before slipping lower, trembling slightly. Fingers finding his belt, fumbling with the buckle, clumsy from the aftershocks still wracking your body. " 'Want you, Mr. Qin."

Earning an airy chuckle from Sylus who helped you, his hands steady and sure as they caught yours, guiding the buckle open with practiced ease. His gaze locked on yours, dark and intense, sending a fresh wave of heat spiraling through you. “Easy there sweetie,” he murmured, voice thick with something between amusement and desire.

The leather belt hit the floor with a sharp metallic clank, drawing your gaze downward. Your eyes widened like saucers as he slowly freed himself, revealing a monstrous length—nine, no, at least ten inches—standing proud before you. Not overly thick, but undeniably intimidating, with a teasing, commanding curve that only added to its presence.

Sylus let out a low breath, the last of his restraint fraying as he watched your reaction. His voice dropped to a near growl, rough with want. “ Think you can take it?”

You didn’t answer right away—just let your tongue dart out, slow and deliberate, to wet your lips, a soft hum leaving you as you shifted on the counter. The movement made your thighs brush against his hips, intentional and electric.

Your eyes flicked back up to his, steady and burning. “I can,” you whispered, tone sultry, sure. “I want to.”

Which wasn't an entire lie, you did want to- but if you could? Well..

The first push had you gasping, the stretch immediate and overwhelming. Sylus moved slow, deliberate, letting you feel every inch as he pressed in, stopping halfway with a low, ragged breath of his own. His hands gripped your hips firmly, thumbs soothing over your skin as your body tried to adjust.

Your head tipped back, a shaky whimper leaving your lips. “It’s… s-so much,” you panted, tears already pricking the corners of your eyes as the burn settled deep inside you. “F-Fuck, so big—”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice low and strained, fighting the urge to bury himself all the way. “I know sweetheart, you’re doing so good, sweetie. Just breathe for me.”

But even as you obeyed, tears slid silently down your cheeks—overwhelmed, overstimulated, but craving more. Your hips tilted instinctively, desperate to draw him in deeper, to chase that unbearable, addictive fullness. Legs tightening around his waist, you clung to him, your voice breaking on a whimper.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, breath hitching around a shaky sob. “Want more… please, sir. Keep going.” The words were soft, slurred, but soaked in raw need—every syllable dripping with surrender.

That was all it took. With a deep, guttural groan, Sylus thrust forward, he buried himself to the hilt with a nasty plap!

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, eyes rolling back as your back arched off the counter. The stretch burned white-hot, pleasure tangled so tightly with pain it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Your nails dug crescent marks into his shoulders, mind blurring at the edges as your body trembled around him.

He stilled, breath harsh against your ear, giving you a moment—but the way your walls clenched around him nearly made him burst right then and there. “Fuck… you feel so good,” he rasped, voice rough, feral.

All you could do was nod weakly, tears still streaking your cheeks, mouth parted and panting, barely able to form words as he finally began to move—slow at first, then deeper, sharper. Each thrust knocked the air from your lungs, made your thoughts scatter into static.

You couldn’t think. Could barely breathe.

Your hands scrambled for purchase, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, nails dragging along his button up, but it was useless. Every thrust into your cunny, every drag of his hips made your mind fog with pleasure.

Everything was slipping. Words, reason, your grip on sanity—gone. Your eyes fluttered, jaw slack, drool beginning to gather at the corner of your lips as his pace deepened into something deliberately punishing, dragging moans from your throat with each thrust.

“Shh, sweetie,” he whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear between ragged gasps, “ 'Have to stay quiet for me kitten.” You whimpered again—high, breathless—and Sylus leaned in, his pace slowing just enough to steady your trembling form. “If it’s too much,” he murmured, voice thick with restraint and something deeper, “bite me. Right here—” he tilted his neck toward your mouth, offering it to you with a shaky exhale, “—go on, if you need to.”

You barely registered the words, just nodded, tears slipping down as your lips grazed the spot he offered, too lost in the heat and pressure and fullness. A delicious hiss escaping him as your teeth sank a bit into his neck.

A sudden angle he thrust at drew a sinful cry from deep in your chest, your entire body jolting as pleasure bloomed white-hot in your core.

Your walls clamped down on Sylus’s shaft instinctively as you mewled, a broken sound spilling past your lips before you could stop it.

That made him pause—only for a second.

Then a low, knowing growl vibrated in his chest. “Right here, hm?” he murmured, his tone dark and honey-slick, lips brushing your ear as his hips snapped forward again—thrust! “Is it here, sweetie?”

You gasped, back arching, eyes rolling back as your moans turned into a string of incoherent babbles. As he hit it again. And again. Merciless. Precise. Unrelenting. Your legs trembled around his waist, entire body shaking as your hands fisted the back of his shirt like a lifeline. “S–Sylus—uhhhn—‘m—‘m gonna—can’t—”

“You can,” he panted, fucking into you harder, faster now, every stroke angled to drive you deeper into that brainless fog. “You're already sucking me in like you need it. Like she needs it." His words only spurred you on, made the fire in your core burn hotter. You gasped for air, lost in the rhythm of his form.

You couldn’t answer. Couldn’t speak. Just nodded frantically, lips parted in a dumb, needy expression as stars burst behind your eyes, the coil in your tummy beginning to unravel only for the second time that night but the pressure enough to make you lose your mind.

You couldn’t form words—couldn’t even think. Just nodded frantically, mouth slack, a soft, wrecked cry slipping out as your body seized around him. The pressure in your core unraveled like a snapped thread, your second orgasm crashing down on you with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs.

White heat bloomed behind your eyes, tears spilling freely down your cheeks as your back arched off the counter, thighs shaking, muscles locking around him as you came hard—mindless and utterly lost to it.

“Fuck—there it is,” Sylus growled, barely hanging on himself as he held you through it, his voice a broken mix of praise and hunger. “Just like that. So pretty when you come, so perfect.”

“God—fuck,” he choked out, teeth gritted, head dropping to your shoulder as a moan ripped from his chest—raw, unfiltered.

You felt him twitch inside you, the tension in his muscles barely held back by restraint. Your fingers curled against his back, voice shaky but firm, pulled from somewhere deep and aching.

“'want it Sylus,” you breathed, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Inside… I’m on the pill.” He pulled back just enough to look at you, red eyes blown wide with hunger and something deeper—something that bordered on reverent. His hips stuttered, breath caught in his throat. “Say it again,” he rasped.

You nodded, legs tightening around him. “ 'Want you to come inside me.”

And just like that, all restraint snapped.

With a few more erratic thrusts, heat spilled into you in thick, hot waves, thick ropes of cum flooding your core as his body tensed against yours. His name falling from your lips in a broken whisper as he held you there, locked in place, his hands gripping your hips like a lifeline. Every sharp jerk of his hips sent aftershocks rippling through you both—twitches, shudders, soft gasps tangled in the thick, humid air.

Sylus’s breath came in ragged bursts against your skin, forehead pressed to your shoulder, strands of his hair damp with sweat brushing against your neck. Then, slowly, he pulled back, sliding out with a soft gasp shared between you both.

He caught his breath, muscles tensing for a moment as he steadied himself, fingers tightening briefly around your waist before releasing with a faint shake of his head.

You felt the tension bleed out of him slowly—in the way his body slumped ever so slightly into yours, in the loosened grip on your waist, in the subtle tremble of his exhale.

For a long, suspended moment, neither of you moved—just trembling, locked together, chests rising and falling in sync as the room buzzed with the heat of what had just happened. The air was thick with the scent of sex, the lingering hum of need, and the echo of everything neither of you had said aloud.

Sylus finally pulled back just enough to see your face, ruby eyes half-lidded, still glowing with the burn of afterglow and something quieter—something tender, reverent. He studied you for a moment, then leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he murmured,

“You okay?” His voice was low, roughened by exhaustion but laced with concern, a thumb brushing gently along your cheekbone as he waited for your answer. When you nodded, a faint smile touched his lips, and he exhaled a slow, contented breath. “You were so good for me, sweetie.”

His thumb traced gently along your hip, the touch featherlight now—tender, careful, as if grounding you, anchoring you back into your body after being unraveled completely. You blinked up at him through heavy lashes, dazed and flushed, your legs still loosely wrapped around his waist. Every muscle in your body felt like it had melted into the counter beneath you—boneless, spent, and aching in the best way. You were utterly wrecked, and it showed.

The house had gone still. The hum of the fridge, the soft ticking of the clock, and the quiet hush of nighttime beyond the kitchen windows were the only sounds that remained. Even the air felt softer, heavier, like it was exhaling right alongside you.

A warm, comfortable silence settled over the two of you—thick and intimate, but never stifling. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t uncertain. It just was.

Sleep tugged at your limbs like a slow, steady tide, pulling you under with every passing second—warm, heavy, and impossibly soothing. Your eyelids fluttered, body sinking deeper into his, boneless and spent, as the afterglow gave way to something quieter. Something softer. Slower. Safer.

Then, just as your breathing began to even out, a familiar glint sparked behind Sylus’s tired eyes—a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, mischievous even in exhaustion. “You know…” he murmured, voice low and teasing, “for someone who said they could take it—you were awfully noisy.”

“Shush,” you mumbled, too tired to even glare properly. Your hand flopped up lazily to swat at his shoulder. “I’ll kill you in kitty cards tomorrow.”

He chuckled—soft, genuine. That low rumble in his chest made you want to melt all over again. Gently, he reached down, tugging the hem of your dress back into place, his fingers brushing your skin with maddening precision—so careful it felt intimate, reverent. Your eyes followed the motion, dazed with soft infatuation, every stroke of his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Then came the slow drag of your panties up your thighs, the friction whisper-light but electric. Your gaze drifted to his face—silver hair falling messily over his red eyes, shadows dancing along his sharp features. He paused there, crouched in front of you, adjusting the fabric with practiced ease… and then glanced up through thick lashes, that familiar glint in his eyes equal parts wicked and knowing.

“I'd imagine you'd be too tired to think about anything perverted right now,” he murmured, lips curving, “Though if you still have some lingering energy, I'd be more than happy to help out with that."

You rolled your eyes playfully, then blinked slowly, a dopey smile tugging at your lips as sleep weighed heavy on your lashes. With a gentle shake of your head, you wordlessly protested—no sass, no reply—just a quiet refusal wrapped in pure exhaustion.

Something in his expression softened. The sharp teasing in his eyes gentled, mouth relaxing into something warmer, more tender. “Yeah,” he said quietly, brushing a knuckle along your cheek, “I thought as much." His smile lingered, but something shifted in his expression—deeper now, quieter.

Your eyelids fluttered, heavy and slow. With a gentle blink, the scene shifted; no longer perched on the kitchen counter, you found yourself cradled in Sylus’s arms. The cool marble beneath you was replaced by the soft cushions of the couch, and the steady warmth of his embrace held you close. His lips pressed softly to your forehead, sending a comforting calm rippling through your drowsy body as you drifted further into the haze of sleep.

With another blink, you felt the softness of his surely expensive couch welcoming you with open arms as a blanket fell over your figure, a muffled voice but surely Sylus's saying something softly as your eyes fluttered closed once more.

Then, from down the hallway, a familiar soft small voice broke through your quiet.

"Daddy did miss sitter leave?"

In the dim light of the room, a small figure appeared— Elsie clutching her well-worn crow plushie tightly in her hands. White hair frizzy and short, as she muttered something about him not kissing her goodnight softly to herself, brow furrowed in sleepy confusion.

Then, her eyes landed on you.

You stirred at the sound, smiling softly as you sat up, arms opening automatically. Elsie beamed, wasting no time in scrambling onto the couch, crow plushie in tow, and wiggled happily into your chest. She let out a few quiet giggles as you wrapped your arms around her.

Sylus sighed quietly, standing in the walkway.

You looked up at him, mouthing a gentle “It’s fine.” And damn him—he believed you. Even tired, even half-asleep, you gave so much. And not just to him. You gave Elsie everything in that moment: your smile, your arms, your warmth.

He nodded slowly, his lips pulling into something soft. Not quite a grin. Not quite a smirk. Just… quiet contentment.

“Elsie,” you whispered, voice honeyed and low, “Miss Sitter was just resting for a bit.”

“M’glad you didn’t leave,” Elsie mumbled, already curling tighter into you, her small body relaxing completely in your hold. “You always smell like marshmallows…” You laughed under your breath, your hand gently stroking down her back. “That’s a new one,” you whispered, amused.

Sylus watched you then, really looked—his daughter curled into your side, your hand rhythmically rubbing her back as you pressed a soft kiss to her hair. You looked exhausted, eyes still heavy-lidded with sleep, hair tousled and falling into your face. But to him? You’d never looked more beautiful.

There was something maternal in the way you held Elsie. Natural. No hesitation, no awkwardness, no forced affection. Just instinct, care, softness. Even in your exhaustion, you gave the girl everything she needed—without even being asked. And that did something to him. Twisted something in his chest and unraveled it in the best way.

He stepped forward, slow and careful not to disturb the moment, and lowered himself onto the plush couch beside you both. Elsie stirred, turning over slightly to look up at her dad, blinking up at him.

“Is she staying over?” she asked, voice small and half-swallowed by sleep.

You glanced up at him, about to silently ask if that was okay—but he was already looking at you, his gaze unreadable at first, then softening into something unmistakable. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his hand brushing over Elsie’s head, then knuckles grazing your cheek with the same care. “She is.”

You smiled, eyes fluttering shut again as Elsie snuggled in deeper, a tiny, satisfied sound rumbling in her throat. Sylus leaned back into the couch, arm sliding behind you instinctively, letting your head tip toward his shoulder. You smelled faintly of cologne and his soap.

The room fell into stillness. Just breath. Just warmth. Just the quiet rhythm of three hearts slowing together. And for the first time in a long time, Sylus felt it.

Home.

With you.

® princessxmin all rights reserved. please to not alter, copy or translate my work !

[healmydesires]

"sylus, do you want kids?"

it's taken you three years to finally gather the courage to pose that question. neither of you ever brought it up, and it's probably because you'd mentioned a personal distaste for the notion of having them back in the early days of your relationship. you didn't want the inconvenience, the pain, the pressure, the change, the loss of comfort. you'd always had the mindset that you'd rather regret never having children than regret having them. you won't let your children, if you ever have any, grow up thinking they were a mistake and unwanted.

he stops in his movements with the bowl in front of him. he's currently making dinner, stirring the marinade for the beef he's going to stir fry, and looks over at you. you're sitting on a stool at the island bench to his left, enjoying a glass of wine, but your mood sobered when the lighthearted conversation from earlier died down into companionable silence, and your mind wandered to other things. why they strayed to the prospect of children and finally starting a family? you haven't the faintest idea.

"what makes you ask?" is his reply. careful, quiet, trying to work out where you're going with this. sylus finally starts placing the beef strips into the sauce to marinate, and then he gets started on chopping vegetables. you get up to grab out the wok for him, and shrug. "dunno. just a thought."

"it's your call, sweetheart," he says softly, hands deft as the kitchen resounds with the sound of a knife hitting wood. "you said you never wanted them."

"yeah." you pour some oil into the wok and grab out a knife also, cutting the ends of an onion off and peeling it. "it's just, well...i never asked what you wanted, you know? you say it's my call, but it's yours, too. we're married and what all those stories call 'one flesh'. it takes two, so it's your choice as well."

"i understand that you don't want to experience labour. i can't say i'm eager to see you in such agony, either."

"but it's well-rewarded," you reply, slowly slicing the onion, thoughts all over the place. "at least, that's what happy couples and families say. we're a happy couple. i think you'd make an excellent father. you're good with kids."

it's silent for a few moments, where there's just the sound cutting and slicing and scraping of knives against two boards, and then sylus speaks up again. "i've always wished to have children with you."

you stop, staring at the diced vegetable in front of you, and tears spring to your eyes. it's the sting of the onion, that's all it is. "...yeah?"

"yeah."

"i see." you lift your shoulder and turn your head to wipe your eyes against your shirt, sniffling. it's the onion. just the onion. "for how long?"

"years." two large, tanned hands enter your blurred line of sight, take the knife out of your hand, and engulf them in his own. you're blinking rapidly, trying to expel the sting and surging emotions and you peer up at your husband through the tears. you can make out a soft smile. "i was sad when you said you didn't want any, but i understood. i still do."

"what if..." you give up on your shirt and step into his chest to use his. just to wipe the tears. not to bury your face into it. "what if i've changed my mind?"

"then i'd be overjoyed."

"it's going to be hard."

"yes, it will, but when isn't everything?"

you grin a little, sniffling. "girl or boy?"

he rubs loving circles into your back. "i've always wanted a baby girl."

"just one?"

"why?" sylus eases you away from him enough snicker down at you. "eager for more?"

you smack his bicep, flushed, biting back laughter. "you know that's not what i meant, you big oaf!" you let him chuckle and let yourself get all hot and bothered, and then you sober a little. "it's just, well...the kid's gotta have siblings, you know?"

"it's still your call, sweetheart."

"i'm asking you what you want, though. how many?"

sylus appears to ponder it for a moment, arms still wrapped around you. "hm. three? four? perhaps two. we've already got enough on our plate."

"with the twins, you mean?"

his answering grin is soft. "yeah. if you want."

you squish your face back into his chest, inhaling his scent, listening to his heartbeat, savouring his warmth. "...four'll do."

"what if there's an unplanned fifth?"

"then that'll be your fault. and then we'll have five kids."

full, familiar lips you adore so much brush the top of your head in a sweet peck. "that sounds nice, doesn't it?"

perhaps you've softened to the idea of childbirth and having mini syluses and mini yous darting about the place. getting in your way, getting in his way, wailing and giggling and whining for ice cream. it's something you can easily imagine with this man.

so you clutch him to you tightly, smiling. "yeah. it does."

[healmydesires]

[healmydesires]

sylus was nothing if not astute. he had to be, in his line of work—one little lapse in judgment could mean the difference between life and death. 

but this week, his razor-sharp intuition had vanished, it seemed. you were avoiding him, and though he’d jump at the chance to rectify it, he had no idea what he’d done to upset you. 

just days earlier, you’d been pinching his cheeks, mirth twinkling in your eyes as you told him how cute he was. and like any self-respecting man, he’d caught your hands and grumbled his firm denial. you two played like that often, teasing relentlessly until the other feigned upset. what followed were murmured apologies and gentle laughter—sounds that, right now, he would’ve given anything to hear from you.

you lowered your head when you passed him in the halls. bit your lip during the rare times you spoke to him. clenched your hands when he came too close. 

it was more than enough to rattle him. during meetings and business calls, he found his focus drifting to your sudden wariness, and it filled him with untraceable guilt. had he done something to make you fear him? each time the thought crept into his mind, he bit the inside of his cheek hard, ignoring the metallic tang that pooled on his tongue.

he was unsure and uneasy. self-conscious and repentant. and because your distance had taught him to recognize the feeling, he knew he was an unsettling bit sad. 

anxious determination overtook him when he found you in the living room one evening. sighing once, he stepped forward and knelt in front of you. “whatever’s wrong, tell me how to fix it.”

your eyes widened, confused and alert. “what do you mean? did something happen?”

“i’m asking you that right now. don’t think i haven’t noticed. if i’ve done something to hurt you, i’m sorry. but please, tell me what it was.”

“what it…oh,” you realized, nervously tugging your lip into your mouth. “i figured you were upset with me.”

his brow furrowed, and his hand came to rest on your knee. hope, warm and irrepressible, coursed through him when you let it. “why is that?”

“i thought you didn’t like what i did the other day. you pulled away from me. so i thought you were angry,” you answered, voice dropping to a whisper.

a week’s worth of regret slid off his shoulders, and he was chuckling before he could stop it. a large hand cocooned the side of your face, and he bumped your foreheads together with fondness. “i was just teasing, sweetie. i thought you knew.”

mouth falling slightly, you ducked your head into his shoulder and groaned, the sound rocking through his body. “you have a very convincing scowl.” 

“do i?” he asked, running a hand over your back. “you’ll have to help me practice a less effective version. that’ll be the one i reserve for you.” 

“that’d be nice. and clear.”

rumbling in agreement, he lifted your head from the crook of his neck, reaching to rub his thumbs across your cheeks. “i’ll never refuse any affection from you.” 

a faint bob in your throat caught his eye. “then…can i?” you asked shyly. 

chuckling, he beckoned you forward, sweeping a hand around your waist. “please. i’m merely a canvas for your convenience.” 

leaning down to kiss his cheek, you giggled in his ear, and suddenly all was right again. “cute.” 

[healmydesires]

its important to write fanfiction no one cares about 👍

[healmydesires]

how mc decompresses at the end of the day [♡]

[healmydesires]

秦彻，我发现只要你想要保护一个东西，总能保护得很好。 Sylus, I’ve noticed that whenever you want to protect something, you always make sure you protect it well. Love and Deepspace (2024), dev. Infold Games

[healmydesires]

before wife after wife

look how much love has softened him😭😭🩷🩷

[healmydesires]

Sylus + photobooth [1/?] Love and Deepspace (2024), dev. Infold Games

[healmydesires]

Devour him...He's yours...

[healmydesires]

KPop Demon Hunters

[healmydesires]

Artist : https://x.com/dannyisonfiree