#Sylus X reader

[abyssyby]

i love the idea that sylus cannot take his eyes off you. like its physically impossible for him not to track your movements when youre in the same room as him. admire your figure when youre close. let his gaze flit over each wrinkle and line on your face when you emote. committing you to memory. carving your image in the creases of his brain.

and he’s shameless about it.

you catch his eyes and he grins like a wolf, beckoning you near and placing his hands on your thighs, on your waist, on your arms. anything he can touch, anything he can use to pull you closer, closer, closer.

“i like this,” he’d say, fingers ghosting over your outfit, your hair, your lips, your cheek, the jewelry on your neck, the circle around your wrist. something specific to point out, to vary every time. when he really means he likes you— beautiful, stunning, heart-stopping you. he’ll say anything— an excuse to see you flush, roll your eyes, smile because of him.

he’ll stare. he’ll drink you in and get drunk. he’ll fall to his knees at your command. as long as you let him, as long as you like. he will, gladly, keep his eyes on you.

[bibbysstuff]

Chewy wife

[gattapotatta]

He's muttering something under his breath, whispering soft apologies in the crook of her neck, but he can't stop. Not until he has his fill

Something about the idea that Dragon Sylus would have periods of rut when he would practically need to mate has been on my mind for quite some time now thanks to @himbodruid and @xxsyluslittlecrowxx (you know which posts I am talking about okay thank you for them)

And also the thought that his tail actually behaves like a cat tail and lives on its own (and he gets mad at it for that) seems very appealing

[apple-crunch]

I truly believe that Sylus would not stop trying until he gets a girl.

Sylus made sure you were well rested for tonight, sending your four sons, with an age gap of only 2 years each, out with Luke and Kieran.

A chorus of plop plop plop echoes in the master bedroom, the room was dimly lit having only the night lights on and the moons shine seeping through the windows.

Your husband had you in a mating press for the hundredth time since your marriage. Legs pushed back till it's beside your face, hands held together in his tight grip, you had no choice but to take his dick powelling into you. A white creamy ring squelches from where the two of you connect, cum splashing and dripping all over your thighs and matress. You were barely coherent, eyes drooping, mouth drooling, you could barely form words other than pathetic moans from how deep Sylus was inside of you.

He was fucking you deep and hard, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix each time he bottoms inside of you. Eyes focused on your cunt making sure you're taking all, if not, most of him. "Wan' a girl so bad, baby, fuck! C'mon, give 'er to me." He slurred. The man was so pussy drunk.

[a-hermit-pining]

LaDs Men Getting "She's busy bro" Text

Request: Hi!! I waited patiently (and eagerly) for your requests to open again, I'm so happy!! I love your writing!! I laughed so hard at the previous request where you mentioned Tara. I have another "Tara is on thin ice" idea, lol. Tara and Mc are having a girls night at Mc's place. Mc is cooking or just doing something, mc's receives a message from the lads men (something random like "hi, how are you, I'm off work"). Tara tells Mc she got a message (since Mc is doing something and she can't answer), and mc tells Tara to reply for her. All good and sweet, what does Tara reply with? "Hi, all good, she's busy now, she will talk to you later!" (Basically, the "she's busy bro" prank but with an oblivious Tara that didn't mean to prank them, lol)

AN: Hey anon, I am sorry for how last I am posting this. But thank you for requesting such a fun scenario. I hope you enjoy this!! Might be ooc at times but I am woman of dramatics so excuse me.

Ingredients: 75% fluff , 25% drama

My Fav: Zayne 🥺

Genre: She's busy bro, prank

Pairing: LaDS boys x fem reader

You’re in the kitchen, half-focused on stirring the pasta and half-listening to Tara rant about her latest training match when your phone buzzes on the counter.

“Hey, your phone just lit up,” Tara says, leaning over to check the screen. “It’s one of the guys. Something about ‘how are you?’ and ‘off work.’”

“Just reply for me,” you say, tossing a handful of garlic into the pan. “Tell him I’ll get back to him later.”

Tara shrugs, picking up your phone and squinting at the message. Her thumbs fly over the screen as she replies, “Hi, all good, she’s busy right now, she’ll talk to you later!”

She hits send with a satisfied nod, setting the phone back down without a second thought

Rafayel:

You lunge to catch Tara as she collapses, her hands flying to her throat, her breaths coming out in sharp, choking gasps.

“Tara!” you gasp, your watch buzzing with frantic alerts, the tiny screen flashing red with proximity warnings.

And then you see it. The curving, sinuous tendrils creeping from the edges of the painting on your wall. The one Rafayel gifted you not long ago. The inky black swirls ripple like living shadows, curling toward you.

You snatch your phone from the counter, one arm still braced around Tara’s trembling form, your body blocking her from the painting as the tendrils inch closer. You hit Rafayel’s contact, your finger jabbing the call button with a fury you can barely contain.

He picks up on the first ring, and you don’t give him a chance to speak.

“Stop it. Now.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, the sound of crashing waves and distant seagulls crackling through the line, but you don’t flinch.

“I swear to the fucking seas,” you snarl, your voice low and dangerous, “I will never talk to you again if you hurt her.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end, a flicker of hesitation, and then the tendrils retreat, coiling back into the frame like startled serpents, the air around you cooling as the painting slowly still.

Tara collapses against you, her breathing evening out, her death grip on your arm loosening as she gasps for air. You meet her wide, dazed eyes, your own heart still hammering in your chest.

She gives you a shaky, crooked grin. “That was kinda hot,” she croaks, her lips twitching into a weak, mischievous smile, and your heart melts on the spot.

It takes Rafayel three weeks of pleading, apologizing, and bribing (both you and Tara) to be forgiven for 'the incident'. He sends flowers, chocolates, and a rare pearl necklace that you suspect he made with his anguished cries.

But the painting stays. “For protection,” he insists, his tone defensive, his eyes shifting away from yours when you bring it up. “You’ll thank me one day.”

You roll your eyes, but don’t push it.

Xavier:

He just shows up at your door. Because, of course, he does.

However busy you were, he could stop it. He is a victim to the sunk cost fallacy. If he has to pull you out of some other guy’s orbit, he’ll do it, no hesitation.

He knocks once, twice, each rap firm but patient, the ripped delivery package dangling from one hand, his other tucked casually into his jacket pocket.

The door swings open, and he inhales to deliver his practiced excuse." “Delivered to wr....” He blinks, momentarily thrown off as Tara opens the door, her hair a chaotic mess, pasta sauce smeared up to her cheeks like she’s just face-planted in a pot of marinara.

Behind her, you’re hunched over a massive dish of pasta, a noodle dangling from your lips, your eyes going wide as you choke at the sight of him, your face turning a lovely shade of tomato red.

“Oh, he—uhgh!” you splutter, breaking into a fit of coughing, nearly dropping the fork in your hand.

Xavier’s eyebrow twitches, his frown slowly morphing into a wide grin as his shoulders relax, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he takes in the chaotic scene.

There’s a long, painful beat of silence.

Then Tara, completely unfazed, just wipes her cheek with the back of her hand, shrugs, and steps aside. “You coming in or what, dude?” she says, like this is the most normal thing in the world.

Somehow, Xavier ends up joining your girls’ night, plopping down on the couch, grabbing a fork and helping himself to the monstrous bowl of pasta, because why not?

He makes a few snarky comments about your terrible math skills, but shuts up when you threaten to make him eat his own disastrous cooking as punishment.

Predictably, he’s the first to fall asleep. Conveniently, on your shoulder, his head tucked against your neck, his soft breathing mixing with the faint sound of the movie still playing in the background.

Zayne:

Zayne, of course, doesn’t take the bait.

He’s the only one who doesn’t react to the “She’s busy, bro” text like it’s a declaration of war, because he’s seen this sort of thing before.

As a surgeon, he’s often out of reach, his pager passed off to a resident while he’s deep in the OR, his hands steady, his mind clear as he cuts through flesh and bone. He knows what it’s like to be unavailable, to be occupied with things that demand his full focus.

So when he gets the text, he just blinks at his phone, smiles a little, and sets it down without a second thought, already mentally filing away a dessert he can bring you later, something to help you relax after your busy day.

And he does. He shows up that night, a paper bag in one hand, his coat still smelling faintly of antiseptic and coffee, his sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the faint lines of old scars.

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft, a little shy, like he’s not sure if he’s intruding. “I brought tiramisu. Thought you could use a break.”

He’s literally the most precious bby, and you have to resist the urge to hug him right there in the doorway.

Sylus:

He’s in the middle of a deal, lounging back in his leather chair.

He checks his phone on a whim, his fingers flicking over the screen, and sees your text. His lips curl into a slow, arrogant smile as he types out a quick, casual, “Hey, what are you up to, sweetie?”

When the "She's busy, she'll call you later," text comes back, the smile freezes on his lips.

Busy? Busy?

His mood sours instantly. His fingers curl around the edge of his desk. He flicks his gaze back to the fumbling dealer in front of him, and his generosity reserves run dry.

“Out.”

The dealer stumbles back, wide-eyed, sweat beading on his forehead as he stammers out a “Y-Yes, sir!” before practically tripping over his own feet to escape the room.

Sylus leans back in his chair, teeth gritted, jaw tight, the soft click of his metal-tipped fingers against the desk the only sound in the now-silent room.

But just as he’s about to mentally spiral, his phone buzzes again.

“Made a pretty big batch of pasta, would you like some?”

He blinks, eyes flicking to the photo you’ve attached. A literal tub of way too much pasta, the noodles piled high, the sauce thick and steaming, a chaotic heap of carbs that only you and Tara could possibly miscalculate into existence.

He huffs, a quiet, exasperated chuckle slipping past his lips, the tension in his shoulders melting away. He leans back, his head tipping against the cool leather of his chair, a small, fond smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

“I’ll be there in 20. Don’t start without me.”

And just like that, his mood is ruined in a completely different way, his dark, dangerous aura slipping into something much softer as he straightens his tie and stands, already picturing you waiting with a bright grin and a mismatched fork.

Caleb:

“Why does she get to use your phone and I don’t?” Caleb storms around your apartment, his boots clomping against the hardwood floor, his uniform still perfectly pressed.

It’s been an hour of this. A Fleet Colonel throwing a full-on tantrum in your tiny studio, pacing like a caged animal, his jaw clenched, his fingers flexing at his sides as if he’s debating strangling the nearest pillow. You did put your plushies away at the first given chance.

Pouting. Whining. Sharp, accusing glances thrown your way every time you so much as move.

You’re honestly grateful that Tara had left before this. She’d probably just laugh and egg him on, and you don’t need two chaotic messes in your living room right now.

“Caleb, I was busy,” you try to reason, leaning against the kitchen counter as he paces. “I didn’t want to leave you hanging.”

He whirls to face you, his eyes dark, his jaw ticking, his hair somehow still perfectly in place, untouched by the cap he’d clearly ripped off the second he stormed through your door. Your mind unhelpfully drifts to the way that uniform clings to his shoulders, the way his collar hugs his throat, and nope, now is not the time for that.

“Busy?” he spits, his voice a low, irritated rumble. “Busy with what? And why with her, exactly?”

You sigh, pressing a hand to your forehead, already exhausted from the emotional hurricane that is Caleb. “I was cooking, Caleb. With Tara. I didn’t want to leave you hanging, so I asked her to text you back.”

He scoffs, his shoulders tense, his eyes narrowing like he’s daring you to try that excuse again.

Rage bait Tara is Colonel Caleb’s worst nightmare come to life. Given how you never seem to care how close she gets to you, how easily she invades your space, how unapologetically she teases you.

Much to Caleb’s dismay, you never seem to mind.

[lili-kie]

drunk sylus rambles because i miss him!

- he’s a man who holds his liquor very, very well but there’s only so much alcohol a person can take before they lose all inhibition, and oh boy does he lose it.

- his perfect gravelly voice, slurring every word that leaves his lips, his hair so beautifully disheveled and framing his face.

- after you (painstakingly) manage to hobble your way back to his mansion, he still refuses to let you go. What if you disappear if he lets you go? What if you never come back? What if you’re never in his arms again? No, he can’t let that happen now, can he?

- he refuses to move, holding onto your waist, looking up at you with wet eyes, nuzzling his face into your stomach, while continuing to palm at your waist.

- kisses you absolutely EVERYWHERE! Eventually moving his way between your thighs and staring up at you with such a needy look on his face that’s almost as pathetic as it is endearing. Rubbing his face against your thighs, refusing to move or get up because he thinks he’s felt heaven at long last.

- you’ll have to do some convincing to get him changed and get him into bed, pulling his shirt over his head while all he does is stare at you with need simply plastered across his face.

- when you FINALLY do get him to sleep, he sleeps with his arms coiled around you, simply never letting go until slumber slowly leaves his body and he wakes up absolutely embarrassed by his not-so boss man behaviour the night before.

[catcze]

NSFW!! 18+ ONLY !! — Sylus. got insanely horny & needy earlier and typed this up in a haze. no editing just wanting him to kiss with his cum still dripping out of me ₊˚⊹♡

Sylus is the kind of man who peppers your face in kisses while his weight crushes you to the bed, your mixed cum still leaking where his softening cock plugs you up. He’s the kind of man who, boneless and pliant from how hard he came, is driven by only one urge now— to make sure you know how much he loves you.

You’re coming down from how intense and passionate Sylus gets during your lovemaking when he begins to leave kisses wherever he can reach. The press of his lips on your face are soft and fleeting like a flurry of butterflies, but each one carries his devotion— his adoration. With how tightly his chest is pressed against yours, you can feel how his heart races and skips when you giggle, jokingly trying to push his lips away from your face. You can even feel how his cock twitches when you smile at him.

“You’re so clingy,” you say, voice hoarse from the sounds he had dragged out from you. A hand gently caresses his cheek, your thumb pressing into the plush of his lips and stroking them fondly. And Sylus, in turn, sighs like your touch is pure bliss —eyes fluttering shut as he nuzzles into your hand— and presses a kiss to the base of your palm.

“Can you blame me?” Comes his low murmur, “Making love to you brings me euphoria that I can never hope to replicate.”

You just fondly shake your head, the apples of your cheeks warming from the soft, tender look he levels you with. When his eyes meet yours, there is nothing in there but a love so deep that you fear you could drown in it.

“I love you,” Sylus says a moment later, cheek still pressed against yours hand, humming softly when he feels you tiredly clench around him. He kisses your hand again.

And oh, the effect he has on your heart is illegal. Sylus is so tender and vulnerable in your palms —nothing like the feared fiend from ancient legend, nothing like the terrifying boss of Onychynus. Here, heris just a man, softened by love and kisses. Rough, calloused palms are now so painstakingly gentle when they trail up your body in reverence, caressing you like you are one of his most valuable treasures.

“I love you too,” is all you can bear to say, the words just the tip of the iceberg of how deeply you return his affections. And like he knows what you really mean, Sylus smiles against the cradle of your palm and pulls you into a tender, sweet kiss that blurs the rest of the world.

[bizarrelovetriangel]

needy.

they joke about you being needy but you take it seriously so you stopped kissing and sleeping with them and suddenly they're not laughing anymore.

mdni. 18+ only. grinding. suggestive but no actual sex. reader enjoys being an insufferable tease <3

sylus.

You pushed him down on the couch and straddled his thighs while one of his hand runs up and down your back, and the other rests on your waist.

He breaks free from your deep kiss with a playful smirk on his face.

"You've been quite needy lately, kitten."

You paused.

Needy?

"Oh."

Sylus froze as soon as he saw the lack of amusement on your face.

"I didn't mean — "

"No, you're so right." You suddenly got off his lap and expertly dodged the hands that attempted to catch you and pull you back down. "I really should calm down, shouldn't I ?"

"No — "

"That's such a great idea, Sylus." you smiled and pinched his cheek. "Let's do something else instead. Let's make cookies!"

That was the start of Sylus' awful week, when he didn't get to touch you at all.

No hand holding.

No hugs.

No kisses.

No sex.

Sylus thinks he might actually go insane.

But he can't lose your game so easily.

He'll toughen up if he must.

He lasted years without you and he had successfully kept his distance from you, no matter how difficult and tempting, until the time was right.

His patience and self-control are not to be underestimated.

He'll be fine.

That's what Sylus keeps reminding himself every time he gets the urge to hold you. Every time his eyes fall to your lips, he tells himself that he'll survive without them.

You're trying to punish him for calling you needy, but he won't give in.

He'll wait until you give in.

It's more fun that way.

Okay, so this is harder than he thought.

It's day two and he's already weak on the knees from the very moment you walked out of the bathroom wearing the dress for tonight's date.

Sylus watched you put on your heels, flashing him a part of your thighs while doing so, and he wanted to run a hand on it to feel your smooth skin.

"Sylus?"

He blinked out of his trance to realize you just asked him a question. "What was that, sweetie?"

"I was asking if it'll be cold in the restaurant you chose, so I can know if I should bring a jacket or not."

He shook his head. "You'll be just fine."

That was a total lie.

It turned out to be cold as your table was specially reserved at a rooftop of a building.

However, it just so happens that Sylus has a jacket and the cold wasn't affecting him, so he was able to give it to you.

With a grin on his face, Sylus pulled your seat right next to his and gently put the jacket around your shoulders, making sure his fingers brush against your skin even if it's only for a second.

"Thanks." as you gave him a smile, you slightly moved closer to his face. "I feel much better now."

Sylus made the mistake of looking at your lips. Without much thought, his head tilted down and his nose grazed yours before aligning your lips.

"Wow! This wine is so good! Try it!" You shoved your glass of wine to his lips before scooting your chair back to its initial place, a couple of feet away from him.

Sylus almost choked on the alcohol but gladly accepted your offer. He put his lips on the same spot that had your lipstick stain on it.

At the very least, he got to enjoy an indirect kiss that should keep him satisfied for the rest of the week.

Or so he thought.

Day four.

The frustration has gotten to Sylus.

It's like owning the world's most valued weapon yet not being able to use it.

He can look, but he can't touch.

It's much more difficult than he thought.

Especially when you're doing everything in your power to make him cave in.

Well, technically, you aren't doing anything out of the ordinary.

Right now, all you're doing is hitting the punching bag in the exact way that he taught you, but the way you look at the moment is making him want to grab you and pin you down — or you can be the one to pin him down. It doesn't matter to him. All he wants is his body to be pressed against yours.

Sylus quietly growled under his breath.

He clenched his fist and started to hit the other punching bag, hoping to take away some of the tension burning inside him, particularly inside his shorts.

You tilted your head and watched curiously as Sylus' punches to the sandbag has gotten heavier, leaving such satisfying sounds at the impact.

"Whoa! So good! You look like you're getting ready to beat up some real nasty bad guys. Did anyone piss you off or something?" You picked up the clean towel nearby and held it up towards his face to wipe the sweat on his forehead. "You do look tense lately."

Sylus' left hand suddenly caught the one you're using to wipe his face. "You're a vicious little kitten."

He gave your hand a kiss before stepping back and patting your head before walking out of the room and leaving you alone.

"Hey, where are you going?! We haven't sparred yet!"

"Shower." He looked over his shoulder to give you a smirk. "Would you like to join?"

You almost agreed in a heartbeat.

But you have to stay strong.

"Nope, I'll just stay here and keep practicing so I can kick your ass the next time we spar."

Your own answer only disappointed the both of you.

Day seven.

You and Sylus went out for a ride on his newest motorcycle at night, on the empty, spatious roads of N109.

It was the worst idea of all.

As the one that's manipulating the vehicle, you're the one sitting at the front and you took advantage of the close proximity by pressing your ass right against his crotch.

Sylus had to concentrate on making sure his grip on your waist doesn't hurt you, with the way his body had gone stiff. Every part of him.

Every bump on the road slammed your hips against him and he had to hold his breath every time. His pants became tighter and tighter by the minute, and his breath had gotten unsteady.

He was sweating throughout the entire ride.

And once you finally made it back to his place, Sylus' patience finally broke.

From the moment you got off the motorcycle, Sylus quickly removed his motorcycle before taking off yours.

As soon as your face was in clear view, before you could even comprehend what was happening, Sylus' left hand caressed your jawline before locking his lips with yours.

Your eyes widened with surprise, though you didn't waste a precious second to kiss him back and pull him close by grabbing onto his shoulders.

Sylus didn't dare to pull away until he was out of breath. Even then, he'd only stop for a second before diving back in like a starved man.

Every time you'd pull back to gasp for air, Sylus would come after your lips and slip his tongue between them to capture yours.

"You win." he huffs in between kisses while your hands run through the strands of his hair. "I yield."

"Heh?" you can't help but grin. "What are you talking about? What are you yielding for?"

"Don't play innocent, kitten. You know what you've been doing." He tapped your forehead as you laughed. "I won't call you needy ever again, so if you could stop teasing me, I'd greatly appreciate it." he whispered against your ear before kissing it softly, "I don't know how long I can keep holding back."

"Since you learned your lesson...." you pressed your lips under his jaw. "You don't need to hold back anymore."

That was all he needed to hear.

Sylus wrapped your legs around his hips and kept you up against him as he made his way into his bedroom.

zayne

You're drawing random patterns with your finger on Zayne's bare chest as you cuddle with him when suddenly, he made a lighthearted joke.

"Your libido has been rather high lately. Based on my record, your premenstrual syndrome symptoms shouldn't be showing up for another two weeks."

You looked up to see the playful grin on his face.

"Oh, is that right?" you huff. "Must be my diet or something. No worries, I'll fix it."

Zayne blinked with confusion. "Huh?" But he received no more response for an explanation as you closed your eyes and drifted oft to sleep.

It was only until the very next day when he realized his mistake when he received absolutely zero kisses.

He was quick to figure out what brought on such an evil scheme.

"Oh, no..."

Day three.

You stopped by his work to join him for lunch, just as he requested.

Zayne observed that you're not angry with him and you have no problem spending time with him. You act normal for the most part. The one big change with your behavior is that you refuse to give him any physical affection.

You didn't even give him a hug as you greeted him.

It feels strange. It's like he's forgetting something as important like his wallet or his car keys.

"Are you punishing me for what I said the other day?"

"What you said the other day?"

"You know... about your high libido...."

He could've sworn a vein popped out from your forehead just now and he does his best to suppress a smile of amusement. He's already in trouble. He doesn't want to dig his grave any deeper.

"Nope! I don't care at all!"

Despite the words that came out of your mouth, you continued to make him suffer.

Later that day, you met up aftet work to drink milk tea while taking a night stroll around the city during such a lovely weather.

The way you were smiling the whole time made Zayne want to hold your hand and keep you close to him.

And yet, you were constantly moving around so much, either on purpose or due to all the sugar from your drink, so he ended the night feeling somewhat emptyhanded.

He hasn't realized until now just how much he enjoys even the little touches you grace him with.

Day five.

You and Zayne attended a formal event.

It's a banquet for the hunters association and you were obligated to come, and he was your date, so you two dressed up nicely to follow the dress code.

Although, if he was being honest, Zayne wishes you two are still in your apartment, where he can have you all to himself.

Ever since he had come to your home to picked you up, he couldn't keep his eyes off you. And throughout the event, he has been rather... uneasy.

As you're eating dessert, Zayne can't help but imagine tasting it from your lips. It has been days since he last kissed you, and he needed to be reminded of your sweetness.

He needed to feel the warmth and softness of your skin underneath your dress.

Zayne lets out a shaky breath before loosening his tie.

It seems that the room suddenly feels hot.

Or maybe it's just his racing mind and heart and the blood rushing down below his hips.

"Zayne, are you okay?"

You scooted your chair closer to him so that your legs are touching. You faced him and put a hand on his forehead.

"You feel warm. Are you sick?"

Zayne lets out a laugh that was half-nervous. "Are you teasing me again?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just worried about you."

He detected from your tone that you are indeed teasing him.

On the drive back, Zayne was clutching the steering wheel as his mind continues to race, imagining all the things that he'd been wanting to do with you. Sitting still became difficult with a bulge rising through his pants.

But yet again, he ends the night without a single touch from you.

And Zayne has decided, he'll never joke about anything ever again.

Day six.

On his day off, Zayne had taken you out for a picnic and the torture continues.

Whenever you two have a picnic, there's lots of cuddling involved. This time, there's none at all and there's the Happy Snowman plushie sitting right between you two as a barrier.

You two are playing kitty cards and Zayne seems to be on top of his game today.

After all, he had a special proposal.

"Whoever wins must do something that the winner wants."

It's a simple but classic prize that no one can ever resist, so you gladly accepted the challenge thinking you'd easily win.

But Zayne's focus is unshakeable.

He's consecutively dropping assist cards to take away your points, and somehow he's stocking up all the sixes.

He won't even let you switch cards by acting cute. That's how serious it is right now. The stakes are high.

After six rounds, Zayne comes out as the winner.

"How could this happen?!"

Zayne chuckles at your dramatic cries, aggressively shaking Happy Snowman as if it was the one responsible for your loss.

Unfortunately for Happy Snowman, it's Zayne's turn to have your attention.

Zayne snatched the plushie out of your hands and set it aside.

"Darling, it's time for me to claim my prize."

You sigh and bowed playfully. "Yes, yes, congratulations for being crowned as the King of the Kitties. What can I do for you, Your Highness?"

Zayne smiled and gently held your chin with his fingers before guiding you to look up so you can lock gazes.

"Kiss me."

Your mouth drops at his request, face immediately heating up.

"Oh."

He found a way to end your silly little game.

He really is a clever boy.

"Your wish is my command~"

At last, you stop holding back against your urges and brought yourself on his lap.

Zayne eagerly welcomes you into his arms and wraps them around you tightly, making sure you don't try to escape.

His lips meets yours with desperation and his hands slides down to your thighs, encouraging you to sway your hips back and forth.

Between the deep and heavy kisses, he mutters, "I joked about you being needy yet here I am, being the needy one. But it's all your fault. Are you going to take responsbility for it?" Zayne pressed you down against his hips to let you feel just how hard he is for you.

"...should we end picnic early?"

"We should end picnic early."

caleb

You stumbled into his room while removing his shirt and almost tripped on his feet as you reached the bed.

"What's the rush, Pip-squeak? And here I thought I was the needy one."

Your hands come to a halt.

"What did you say?"

"I said there's no need to rush, I'm not going anywhere — "

"No, you just called me needy just now."

Caleb chuckles at your furrowed brows.

"I was joking, Pip— what are you doing?" you picked up his shirt that you dropped on the floor and threw it at his chest before walking out of his room.

"Gonna be needy all by myself in my room. Goodnight."

"Wha — hey wait!"

It's too late. You stomped your way into your own room and Caleb is left all alone with a boner that remained standing until his mood died down.

Caleb sent you a bunch of stickers, hoping you'd come back beside him. Sadly, you ignored all of them and he was forced to sleep with a cold, empty bedside.

The next day, Caleb woke up early and prepared breakfast for the two of you as usual. You came out of your room and lazily greeted him a good morning, so he was relieved to know that you weren't really mad.

But once he tried to kiss you on the cheek after giving you a cup of coffee and you blocked his lips with the palm of your hands, he learned that he's not completely off the hook just yet.

"No."

"Huh?"

"No kisses."

"What?! Why?!"

You almost laughed at the way his face shifted, looking like a little boy who'd gotten his favorite toy taken away.

"Because. I don't want to seem needy."

"Come onnnn, it was a joke! I'm sorry!" he tried to embrace you from the back but you stood up and moved away.

"Wow, look how nice the weather looks today!" you exclaimed as you look out the window, admiring the clouds of Skyhaven.

Caleb pouts at the way you deflected him.

Knowing how you behave whenever you're being petty, he has to brace himself for the worst few upcoming days of his life.

Day two.

The pout hasn't left his face.

You two are working out together at his home gym and he's pouting as he's doing push ups.

You're not even sitting on his back and motivating him to do more reps. You're just doing your own sets of excercises in front of him while pretending he's not there.

"Pip-squeak, look. I'm doing push-ups with one hand."

"...."

"Now I'm doing push-ups with just one finger!"

"..."

No matter what he did to grab your attention, he just couldn't get you to look at him.

But what if....

"Whew, it's so hot in here."

Caleb took off his shirt and threw it aside.

He tries not to grin as he caught you sneaking glances from the corner of your eye.

Now, he'll do pull-ups on the bar right in front of you.

Or at least, that was the plan.

His shirt was thrown back at his chest just like the other night.

"Caleb you dummy. You'll get cold."

You walked out of the room and he was back to pouting.

Day four.

You went back to Linkon at Monday morning. Caleb couldn't believe he lasted four whole days without getting a single kiss from you. He didn't even get to hold your hand or pat your head.

The lack of physical affection and intimacy should be nothing to him since he always had to hold back from acting on his feelings for you. He was willing to wait forever for you.

But now that he thinks about it, he'd always been touchy with you.

Even before you were in a romantic relationship, he'd given you plenty of hugs, he'd given you lots of forehead kisses, he'd hold your hands whenever you let him, he'd hold you when you don't want to sleep alone, and he'd even kissed your cheek during the times whenever you pretended to be a couple.

Physical affection has always been a part of your relationship.

Taking it away is like taking away a pilot's airplane.

Well, maybe it's not that drastic but it surely feels that way to Caleb.

Now that he's able to kiss you and hold you whenever he wants, he can't stop. He loves being with you and becoming one with you.

He can't help but seek for your touch.

It's only been a few days but he misses your warmth. He misses how you taste. He misses the sounds you'd make.

Oh, he definitely won't survive for long.

This scheme of yours has to end now.

Day five.

You got a good jumpscare when The Colonel showed up at your doorstep at night, in his full uniform and all.

Before opening the door, you peeked through the peephole and took note of his serious expression, just as The Colonel often appears as.

But the scary demeanor vanished the moment you oppened the door.

His face lights up and you're flashed with the warm smile you've used to seeing.

"Caleb! What are you doing here?!"

"I just dropped by to bring you something you forgot at my house. It's pretty important so I thought I'd make a trip to Linkon so you don't worry about it."

You let him in your apartment, trying to recall what you could have forgotten. You were able to get through a long day at work without noticing anything missing, so what could've been that important that he had to give to you immediately?

"What did I forget?"

Caleb dug something from one of the pockets of his coat.

"Ta-da! Here you go~"

Caleb took your left hand and dropped something to your palm.

".....Are you being serious right now?"

A hair clip.

"What? It's something that you use every day, is it not? I know you were probably feeling weird without it. You're welcome."

"...I leave this behind on purpose. I always use it whenever I'm at your house, every time I'm doing my hair. It was meant to stay there."

Caleb laughs and scratches the back of his head. "Oh, my baaaad, Pip-squeak. Ah, but since I'm already here, might as well have dinner together!I'll help you cook~"

He removed his hat and coat before entering your kitchen. You're in the middle of making dinner too, so he somehow arrived perfectly on time.

You should've known he came in with a mission.

As he goes around the kitchen, he does everything possible to accidentally touch you.

He'd lightly bump into you and touches your shoulder as he apologizes.

His hand brushes against your waist to move you aside so he can pass by.

He stands behind you and reaching over you so he could get some containers on the cabinet, making sure to grind his hips against your ass just for a brief second.

Eventually, you found yourself cornered against the fridge.

"What are you doing?"

"Making dinnner." you glare at him and he was quick to give you a pout. "...And trying to win your attention because you've been so mean to me by neglecting me."

"Neglecting?" you tilted your head. "But I thought I was being needy."

Caleb groans before completely losing his patience.

He pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry! I won't say it again! Please don't punish me anymore I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry — " his embrace starts getting tighter at every word, making you cough dramatically.

"Jeez, alright fine! I get it, now let me go — "

"Never!"

Caleb lifts you off the ground and nuzzles his face against yours. "So soft and so warm ~"

"Caleb, the pot is boiling!"

"The pot can wait. I'm busy."

"Caleb — " the sizzling noises from the stove forced him to jump away from you.

"Okay I'm coming!"

rafayel

"You don't need to be so needy cutie, I'm not going anywhere~"

You pulled away from his kiss and raised a brow at him. "Needy...?"

Rafayel's eyes widen as he realized what he just said. "I — I was just joking!"

"Right..."

You laughed along but five minutes later, the kisses suddenly stopped and your attention shifted to your phone to play a silly game (one that he recommended to you in the first place).

Rafayel didn't think much of it. He was able to cuddle with you as the two of you fell asleep that night.

But once he woke up, things started to seem weird to him.

As you left to go to work, you didn't give him a kiss. You always give him a kiss. You rushed out of the studio before he could even remind you about it.

He didn't get to see you for the rest of the day because the Wanderers robbed him all of your time and energy.

At the very least, he was able to videocall with you and chat with you about how your day went. Though, seeing your sleeping face made him wish he was next to you so he could comfort you and ease your exhaustion.

Day two.

You joined him for a stroll at the beach and helped him collect some shells. He tried to hold your hand but you not-so-subtly moved away from him.

The face he made was worthy of a drama actor award.

"Are you worried I'd give you a virus? Come here, cutie, I'm perfectly clean. I just took a bath an hour ago."

"No no, just don't wanna seem clingy, that's all."

Rafayel took a moment to figure out what prompted that response.

"Waaaait, you're not really mad about me calling you needy, are you? It was just a joke, Miss Bodyguuaaard..."

"Mhmm."

Rafayel sighs as he realizes you're going to prolong this cruel revenge of yours just a little further. It's good that you're not really mad, though he can't help but pout about it.

He had to walk through the beach with you so close yet so far from him, and his hands have never felt so cold and lonely.

You don't even always hold his hand, as sometimes collecting sea shells require all hands available, but now that he's aware of your punishment, he can't help but notice that he really loves holding your hand and giving you little kisses.

Without them, his day feels incomplete.

Day three.

You showed up at Rafayel's art exhibition and he's acting like you just dumped him.

"Oh, I didn't expect you to show up today, Miss Bodyguard. I thought you'd forgotten all about me."

He showed you one painting that you haven't seen finished until now.

"This is inspired by the gaping hole in my heart because my beloved has left me."

Trying not to laugh, you flicked his forehead. "Your beloved saw you this morning for breakfast and watched you get scolded by Thomas because you weren't ready for your event on time."

Rafayel huffs. "Well, I would have woken up early and would've been prepared on time if only I went to sleep early. But I couldn't sleep early because my beloved is being mean to me and won't let me kiss her."

"Weeeell, that sucks for you." you patted his shoulder. "I'm gonna go check out that lovely painting over there. See you later."

Rafayel followed you the entire time, walking so closely beside you so his hand would constantly brush against yours.

Once you reached an empty room, he stood right behind you and put a hand on the wall next to the painting that you're admiring.

His lips brushed against your ear after taking a whiff of your neck. "This perfume... it's the one that I really like..."

It was indeed the scent that makes him act like a cat that's high on catnip. You wore it on purpose, solely to get the reaction that he's giving right now.

Rafayel's lips brushed against your neck like a feather, testing the waters to see if you'd push him away.

So far, you do nothing but stare at the beautiful painting he worked months on.

His right hand landed on your stomach and gently nudged you back so that your body is right against his.

His kisses grew a little bolder, lingering on your skin a little longer.

But then, the sound of footsteps coming close forced you to spring away from him.

You held back a grin at his red face.

"This has been a wonderful exhibit, Sir Rafayel. Thank you for the tour."

"...Hmph..."

He crossed his arms and looked away, trying to calm down his racing heart.

Looks like his body craves for you more than he realized.

Day four.

"I got here as fast as I could! What's the emergency?!"

You slam the bathroom door open to find Rafayel chilling in his bathtub, naked body submerged in warm water mixed with pink foamy soap.

"...."

"Oh, good, you're finally here." Rafayel sighs with relief. "Miss bodyguard, you have to help me. I slipped from a paintbrush earlier and hurt my right arm, so I can't move it around easily because it hurts. Will you help me with my bath?"

"How did you get in the bathtub in the first place if your arm hurts so much?"

"Don't worry about it, cutie. That's in the past. I like to focus in the present."

You shook your head, though you're unable to hide a smile from his silly yet clever response.

You knelt down beside the bathtub and started petting his head. Right away, he closed his eyes and leaned in towards your touch.

You lowered your hand to his neck and brushed slowly your thumb against his skin just under his jaw, and you caught him gulping nervously.

Next, you slid your hand down to his chest, drawing random shapes between his pecs, causing his breath to stutter.

"But now that I think about it... how does one get help for taking a bath?" you asked. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

Rafayel caught your hand before you could even think about pulling away and leave him hard, just like yesterday at the exhibit.

"I just need you... to move your hand... just a little lower...."

Your face heated up at his low tone. His face had turned into a dark shade of red, flushed from the warmth you've made him feel with just a few light touches.

"You better be careful." you whispered, moving your hands down as slow as possible. "With how you sound just now, someone might think that you might be a little....needy...."

Rafayel opened his eyes but didn't move a single muscle. His hand remained on top of yours, letting you wander to wherever you want to.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm the needy one." he kept his gaze fixated on you. "I need to have you close to me. I need to hold you. I need to feel you."

Your face burned.

As did the rest of your body.

At last, your hand reached where he needed you to be.

Stiff and twitching, just for you.

Your core clenched as you recall the way he feels inside you.

"If.... if I'm gonna help you take a bath, you better make some room for me."

Rafayel has never moved so quickly.

xavier

Xavier breathes heavily on his bed, face flushed and chest heaving, glistening with sweat. You're lying next to him, equally spent after getting lost in each other's bodies.

"We've been doing it so much lately, I'm starting to feel sore." he says with a chuckle, putting one hand on his neck and shoulder.

"....You're right." you softly tapped on his chest as if to give him comfort. "Don't worry, I'll let you recover. Let's not do anything for a while."

Xavier's eyes widen. "What?! That's that not what I meant — "

You let out a yawn. "I'm sleepy. Goodnight, Xavier~"

"Wait — "

"Goodnight, I said."

Day one.

You had to be joking, right?

You were probably just so tired and blurted out such a hasty statement.

You probably don't even remember what you said.

Xavier didn't forget, though. He couldn't, even if he wanted to.

When he woke up at noon, you were already at work. You made breakfast for him. If you were really upset with him, you wouldn't have cooked anything for him.

So, everything should be fine.

He arrived at work and the very first thing he did is greet you at your station. You're behind your desk, busy with a report on your computer.

"Good morning."

He leaned down to give you a hug. Although you didn't return it, you didn't deflect him.

That means you really were just bluffing. Everything is fine.

"Good morning, Xavier."

Fast forward to a couple of hours later, you two are investigating an abandoned but recently used building that's been raided by Wanderers.

There was a suspicious man on site, so you hid somewhere so that you can observe him for any possible leads.

Xavier pulled you into a room that looks to be a supplies closet, which was luckily clean enough to not contain any foul smell that would make it unbearable for you to hide in.

You stood by the door that's slightly cracked open so that you can keep an eye on the suspicious man.

Xavier stood right behind you with absolutely no space between your bodies. His left hand made its way to your waist while his lips brushes against your neck.

Before he could do anything else, you turned around and covered his mouth with one hand.

"Hmm? What are you — "

"Shhh. We need to be quiet."

Okay, so you rejected his attempt to makeout.

But that was only because you couldn't risk missing out on any leads and had to focus on the suspicious guy, right? That's all. Everything is fine.

Everything is not fine.

He caught you on a conversation with Andrew and you were touching his shoulder. Then you spoke with Simone and you were touching her arm.

But when he talked to you, you didn't touch his shoulder or anything. You didn't touch his hand and you even moved away when he tried to touch yours.

For the final check: the Pocky test.

Once you're back in his apartment after work, Xavier decided to share his last box of Pocky with you.

As you were eating one, Xavier quickly went up to you.

"Wait, let me check if yours is good."

He continued to eat the stick of Pocky until he's closer to your lips.

But then you suddenly pulled back and ate the rest.

"Wah — "

You gently patted his cheeks. "Nice try."

So, it turns out you knew what he was doing and no, you were absolutely not going to give him kisses today.

And so, sulky Xavier makes his return.

Day two.

Xavier decided to get revenge for taking away kisses and cuddles by showing you the most horrifying scary movie on both of your watch list.

You two are sitting on his giant bean-bag chair, sharing a blanket while your eyes are glued to the TV screen, unable to look away at the bloody scene of another character getting ripped apart.

Little did you know, Xavier is mentally cheering.

For every jumpscare, you scoot closer and closer to him. Around halfway of the movie, you're sitting on his lap yet you're too focused on the movie to realize it.

Xavier kept quiet and rested one hand on your thigh, while the other casually shoves popcorn in his mouth.

As the end credits started to roll, Xavier got up to refill your drinks so that you can have more for the next film, which is another horror one.

"Wait where are you going?!" you grabbed his hand before he could start walking towards the kitchen.

Xavier almost laughed at your expression. "I'm just going to get us more drinks. I won't be gone for long. Just sit here and relax."

"You're not scared even a little bit?" you murmured, tightly hugging a pillow. Right now, your brain is imagining the killer in every dark spot of the apartment.

"I'll be fine~"

Five steps forward and he suddenly turns around.

"Are you really that scared?"

He uses his evol to shine a bright light on his face while pulling a silly expression, mocking the one that the killer from the movie wore.

"Ah!"

His plan worked a little too well because now, you can't sleep alone.

"Are you really that scared?" he asked, walking up to the bed, watching you hug Bunbun with your dear life. "We fought Wanderers that are much worse. If you were in the movie, I bet you'll make a good final girl that'll outlive the killer."

He sat next to you and smiled as he put a hand on the plushie.

"Bunbun can go now. I'm taking over his job in protecting you while you sleep."

You gasped as he snatched the plushie and threw him across the room.

"Xavier!"

"Ssshh, I got you."

After turning off all the lights, he laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him, with your back against his chest.

The second you closed your eyes, your mind starts replaying the scariest parts of the movies you just watched, causing you to shift uncomfortably.

You hear a faint gasp behind you, but you ignore it as you're trying to block off the scary images in your head.

"Ugh! It's no good! I need a distraction."

You turned around to get your phone on the nightstand, but then you come face to face with Xavier.

"A distraction?" he leans close to you so that your noses touch. "I can give you a distraction, if you want."

"....nope, I'm good." you turned back around with a huff. "Don't wanna make you sore."

Xavier laughs and nuzzles his face on your neck.

"I'll remember not to joke about something like that ever again. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"

"....are you also sorry for making me watch those really scary movies?"

"Well.... not really...."

They were excellent movies, after all. Aside from the scary parts, he could tell you enjoyed it overall.

"At least you're honest."

A few seconds later, Xavier starts to pepper kisses all over your neck and jaw.

"Do you still need a distraction? I can help you get your mind off of anything scary."

You let out a quiet moan as he softly pushed his hips against yours.

"Just focus on me."

From the moment he got on top of you, you forgot about everything — your silly scheme and the horror movies.

Right now, there's only Xavier.

[leighsartworks216]

Sitting on a swinging bench with Sylus, leaning against his side, head on his chest. You're fast asleep, but even still he keeps humming. Gentle fingers, hands that have murdered and hurt and killed, playing with your hair. Deep red eyes that terrify, softened as he watches over you

Soft petals dance on the wind and land in your hair. He chuckles softly as he brushes them aside, stirring you awake. Your face scrunches up, consciousness starting to set in, but Sylus shushes you and pulls your head back in against his chest and tells you to go back to sleep. A minute of his humming, and you're slipping away again

Your child has slipped away from the Twin's babysitting, running barefoot over to the bench. Sylus has to gently shush them, too, telling them to be quiet, it's your naptime, as he helps them up into his lap. They curl up against him, staring at you and the round swell of your belly. They look up at him, pointing at it

"My new baby brother is in there?"

He smiles, nods. "Or baby sister."

They stare again. "How does it fit?"

"They're very small right now," he whispers. "You were once that size."

"Really?" they gasp

"Mhm."

You stir with a small sound of discomfort. Sylus holds you closer, rubbing soothing circles over your bump. He feels the source; this baby has been restless, kicking his poor dear so often you don't get to sleep at night

Your child frowns in worry as they watch on. "What's wrong with mama?"

Sylus kisses their head reassuringly. "The baby is moving around. It can be uncomfortable. Do you want to feel it?"

They nod excitedly. He takes their little hand and guides it over the last spot he felt it. They wait a moment together. Then- kick! Your child jolts a little in surprise at the feeling, pulling their hand back with a gasp that has Sylus chuckling to himself. He reacted much the same way the first time he felt them kick in the womb. You'd laughed at the concern on his face, just before another kick knocked the wind out of you. He smiles fondly at the memory, at the joy of being new parents

You stir again, and he returns to comforting you. He taps your child on the back. "Run along and play now," he says. "Mama needs to keep resting."

They nod and slip off his lap. They look at you and your swollen belly a moment longer, before running off, back to tormenting the Twins

Sylus gently rocks the swing back and forth, back and forth, humming a song once more. It's one you'd introduced him to, though you'd never recognize it. You haven't cared for a long time about that, though; you just like the way his voice sounds

The spring afternoon passes in peace

[manjarundirpakdingo]

Considering Sylus's background, there's a high possibility that he was abandoned and learned to survive on his own. Even as a child he's never been provided for. And although he has a shit ton of money now, and can buy anything under the sun, I don't think he knows what it feels like to be taken care of.

Now as an adult, gifts and caring words are offerings showered to appease him, lavish items and antiques are sent to him just to get the big bad leader of Onichynus on their side. Gifts out of fear, like placing a golden goblet before a dragon hoping he doesn't breathe down on them.

So it's obvious that he's never expected anyone to pay for him. The concept is so arbitrary to him, that he doesn't know how to react when you do.

It's a small thing for you. It happens very early on in the relationship when you were waiting for him at the Linkon market. Your eye happens to catch the stall selling squid-ink ice creams. 'Not worth the price' that's what Tara had said, but the contrast of the black ice-cream and the orange-red gummies reminded you of a specific someone so much that you end up buying two.

"There you go! this one's yours!" You said handing him the cone, it spelled out his alias 'skye' in mini gummies, which he could already tell you found hilarious.

You just handed him the ice-cream and then you were on to something else, but for him the moment stilled. That's the first time someone's given him something just because. No exchange, no expectation, no fear.

It felt... nice? Once the initial shock of it wears out, he waits for you to turn around and cheekily ask him to pay the vendor, but you just don't, already skipping away, your eyes set on something else entirely.

He stares at the stupid overpriced ice-cream in his hands, sloppily spelling out 'skye', as his lips tweak in a smile. It leaks onto his wrist under the humid Linkon sun and he licks it off, cringing a little at the taste. But he'll gobble it up, not a crumb left and the freebie napkin folded neatly and tucked into his pocket for a keepsake.

Once in a while, He could get used to this

[loveanddeepthoughts]

angsty thought... sylus x non-mc!reader thought... probably ooc sylus but anyways

non-mc!reader who is sylus' partner in the current timeline but isn't a fighter, very much a domestic stay at home spouse who always looks after sylus and the twins... even giving mephie some love too... everyone loves you for the normalcy and peace you give them; the way the n109 zone just feels like home with you... that is, until mc comes into the picture...

it starts with sylus being less responsive, less attentive. he might be in the room with you but he's mentally off far, far away. he won't tell you what's wrong, no matter how much you try to coax it out of him; he won't budge. how could he tell you, his spouse in this life, that he's finally found his soulmate again? you try asking the twins if they know anything, the two boys looking sheepish when they admit that sylus has been working with mc... mc, who's a hunter sylus is desperately trying to resonate with... the twins feel terrible breaking the news to you but you're like their parent and they can't bring themselves to lie.

it gets to a point when you notice small things; mephie no longer follows you around during the day to keep an eye on you, the twins are no longer stationed at the house... and sylus? he's with her. he's got them looking out for her, while you're alone in a big lonely mansion. it's only a matter of time before his enemies realise he's left his dear spouse wide open and ready for the taking... and you can only wonder if he cares enough to notice that you've been taken as you're in and out of consciousness in this stupid black van, going god knows where.

Link to second part ideas

[mwphisto]

“Happy Mother’s Day.”

You pause your scrolling, brows pinching together as you glance up at Sylus with both amusement and confusion.

“Do you know something I don’t?”

You had no children (yet) and you were almost positive you’d know if you were pregnant well before Sylus did. Still, Sylus seemed amused by your confusion. “No, not unless there is something you aren’t telling me.” He winked as he sat beside you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“So why are you wishing me — a woman with no children — a happy Mother’s Day?” You lean into him, laughing softly as he kisses the top of your head.

“Well, Luke and Kieran seem to think of you as a motherly figure from time to time… and you’re also very caring and sweet in nature.” He hums thoughtfully, twirling the ends of your hair. “You take care of me quite often.”

“So you’re saying I’m motherly?”

“…pretty much. I think it sums you up very well.” You sneak a glance at him, cheeks warming when you realize he’s been looking at you the entire time. “Is that even enough of a qualification to celebrate this holiday?”

“In my book it is.” You feel warm at that, a sheepish smiling tugging at your lips as you shake your head.

“You’re silly. I don’t think I’m all that gentle… not enough to be considered motherly…” your voice strains a little, as if you had just unleashed an insecurity you didn’t fully realize was lingering in the depths of your mind.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, kitten.”

Sylus didn’t flinch at the look of disbelief on your face, rather, he smiled instead. “You’ve always fussed over me, even though you know I can heal my own wounds.”

“The first few days of knowing you, you forced me to shoot you in the chest.” But Sylus shook his head. “That may be true, but don’t you recall what you did immediately after?” Of course you did, you panicking, scolding him like you’d known him for years and tried to stop the bleeding.

“The look on your face tells me you do.”

“What does that have to do with this conversation?” You still couldn’t understand where he was taking this. “You couldn’t stand me the first time you met me, you were scared and disgusted. Despite that, you still tried to save my life. That’s very telling of your character.”

“You bandage me up despite my ability to heal, you fuss over me all the time. You worry about the twins too, and ensure that they get their fair share. You may have callouses on your finger tips, but your hands are nothing but gentle and kind. Full of love and care.”

You’re not sure why, but you feel your eyes begin to brim with tears. “You’re strong, incredibly so. And yet you’re so soft, so sweet, so empathetic. The kind of soul that just wills you to open up even if you’ve never done so before. People feel safe when you’re around, me included. And not just because you’re one of Linkon’s best hunters.”

Sylus doesn’t stop, not even as you brush the tears from your eyes before they can slip down your cheeks.

“So, yes. You’re motherly, you’re a natural caregiver. And I know that one day when we finally have children of our own, our babies are going to be so incredibly blessed to be able to call you their mama.”

Your heart aches, a sniffle rumbling your chest as you lightly smack his arm. “You’re a sentimental jerk.” Sylus only pulls you closer, laughing softly as he kisses your head. “I love you so much, even though you made me cry.” The laughter grows a little louder, the hug a little tighter.

“I love you more than words can convey, and I meant every word I just said so don’t you dare doubt me.”

[jinwoosungs]

[ they still have a crush on you ]

notes: inspired by this post (⺣◡⺣)♡

sylus 🐦‍⬛

zayne 🩺

xavier ⭐️

rafayel 🐟

caleb 🍎

end notes: hhhhh these boys are so cute 😭 🙌🏻

all posts are written by rei; reposts into other websites and translations are not allowed ♡

[mazeeelabyrinth]

☆ — sᥡᥣᥙs after teasing him all day

♡ Sylus x afab!reader

tags. smut, oral sex—cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, mild orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, pussy drunk Sylus, petnames—kitten, sweetheart

wc. 1k

a/n. Idk how to format my blogs anymore lol, I'm getting lazy

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You had been teasing him all day—half on purpose, half just existing in that damn oversized shirt he liked too much. Sylus did not say anything at first. Just watched you, eyes dark, tongue flicking briefly over his bottom lip.

Later, you caught the shift in his mood when he locked the bedroom door behind you that night—no smirk, just simmering intensity.

You had barely finished teasing him—just a bratty little smirk, a shift of your legs in that silk robe when you prepared for bed—and suddenly Sylus was kneeling between your thighs as if prayer was a sport.

“You’ve been a naughty kitten,” he murmured, slowly removing your panties and brushing his nose against your inner thigh. “It’s time I finally pay attention to this pretty cunt, don't you think?”

Then, he kissed your thighs like they were sacred—each kiss slow, open-mouthed, deliberate, like he wanted to taste your pulse before he got to the main event.

His hands stayed firm on your hips, thumbs circling your skin as though he was trying to memorize the feel and shape of you.

When his mouth finally landed between your legs, it was not soft. Sylus licked like he was attempting to slake his thirst—and your cunt was water and he had been crawling through a desert.

Your breath broke into fragmented syllables of his name. Sylus did not rush—of course he did not. Everything he did was calculated, elegant in its cruelty.

Those crimson eyes, intense and sharp, never left yours. Not even as his tongue kept dragging in slow, hypnotic circles over your labia. Each one ended with a flick against your clit that made you gasp—as though he was ringing a bell only he could hear.

Certainly not even when your hips arched off the mattress in response. He only pinned you down harder, one strong arm wrapping beneath your thigh while his other hand splayed over your stomach—holding you in place like a pinned butterfly.

“You always tremble right here,” he murmured, voice sonorous as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin on your mons.

“Sylus, please…”

You reached down to thread your fingers in his hair, but he caught your wrist with maddening ease and pinned it to the mattress beside your hip, fingers firm but never bruising.

“Let me work, sweetheart,” he said, low and amused, breath skimming against your slick cunt. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

He spoke as if you were a decadent feast meant to be devoured by kings, not a writhing, breathless woman beneath his mouth. But then he moaned against you, like your taste was something divine, and your thighs clenched helplessly around his ears.

“Sylus, I’m—” you gasped, already feeling your climax building—sharp and quick and terrifying.

He smiled. That smile should have been illegal.

“You’ll come when I tell you to,” he whispered, lips brushing your folds, the tip of his tongue flicking against your cunt again, this time faster, tighter, ruthlessly precise.

Every flick of his tongue was done to leave you whimpering. Every suck of his lips around your clit came with a wicked gleam in his eye. He was too good at this. It wasn’t fair. He mapped you like a battlefield, found every weak point, and exploited it with finesse.

You didn’t stand a chance.

It didn’t take long before your first orgasm crashed over you, violent and shuddering. Your thighs clamped around his head but he didn’t let up—he growled softly, like your resistance only thrilled him.

Again, one hand gripped your thigh, the other slid up your trembling belly to rest over your sternum, keeping you pinned while he continued to lick and suck like you hadn’t just shattered for him.

“Sylus—fuck—I can’t—” you tried to twist, to move, to escape the overwhelming pleasure spiraling into pain. “Too much—too soon…”

He only hummed in response. The bastard was smiling. You could feel it against your skin.

“Don’t tell me you’re done, sweetheart,” he said, voice ragged, like it physically pained him to lift his mouth from you. His fingers slid in then—two of them, deep and slow, curling just right—and your breath hitched. “Not when you’re still this wet.”

Your body jolted, overstimulation crashing over you in waves—each touch too sharp, each stroke too much. Your second orgasm dragged out of you like a scream in reverse. You clenched around his fingers, thighs clamping against his shoulders. He didn’t flinch.

“Fuck—there it is,” he said against you, the vibration of his voice against your clit making you jolt. “Keep squeezing me like that, and I’ll come without even touching myself.”

No mercy. He did not stop there. You wondered if his jaw even ached.

Sylus was nothing if not indulgent when it comes to your pleasure. His teeth scraped your swollen clitoris, nipping the hooded, overstimulated bud just enough to make your cunt begin squirting around his pumping fingers and hungry mouth.

“Sylus! Oh fuck—please!” You gasped, hips writhing, too much—it was too much—but he lapped through it like he was starving. Like your orgasms had been an appetizer and he was determined to feast.

You tried to pull away but his arms locked tighter, pulling you right back against him.

By the time the third hit—harder, meaner—you were whimpering into your hand, too wrecked to speak, too far gone to beg properly. He licked you through it, slower now, gentler, but no less thorough.

His sharp features contorted into a wolfish pride when he finally pulled back, mouth slick and chin glistening. He leaned over you, bracing himself on one arm, and brushed his knuckles against your cheek.

“You always taste like heaven,” he said, voice low and reverent, like he had just discovered a religion and it wore your body.

You tried to answer. Your lips moved. Nothing came out but a ragged sigh.

Sylus chuckled, kissed the tip of your sweaty nose, and whispered, “And sweetheart, I am feeling religious.”

God help you—you got what you wanted but you were not getting sleep tonight.

[muqingslover]

This question is related to the last ask you posted, but what do you think the lads men most unexpected/unconventional turn-on would be?

Your depiction of Zayne got me thinking, what is that shy man gonna do if mc finds his "weak" spot lol. Cuz yeah, obviously he'd be turned on about his beloved sending him risky pictures BUT the moment mc realises one of his unexpected turn ons that maybe he himself wasn't even aware of? Oh lawd.

[ this one had me thinking for days oh my goodness! Just a heads up, I got carried away with some of these...very carried away.....shhh. ]

Your lips.

Alright, alright, i know it sounds confusing but stick with me here.

I've thrown some of my takes on his kinks around but I didn't want to repeat myself so I spent some time stewing over this.

Eventually I landed on the idea that Zayne would be very particular about sharing anything that touched your lips, especially before an official relationship.

Drinking from the same straw, sharing the same spoon, tasting something you already bit into it— It's an instant way of getting his poor mind to go into overdrive.

He is a very proper and respectful man. He doesn't like to have indecent thoughts about you, but the idea that his lips touched something yours did as well make him all tingly and shy.

Massages.

He loooooves the feeling of your weight pressing down on his hips when you straddle him, though that's not even the tip of the iceberg as to why he is so into this.

Your hands are truly magical when it comes to getting rid of the few knots on his body and the further he relaxes, the further Xavier begins to grow more aware of you.

The comforting weight is slowly causing him to grind against the mattress under him each time you shifted on top of him and the way your hands make their way down his bare spine has him biting the pillow sheets.

Not to mention that the minute your fingernails scratch his scalp in an otherwise affectionate gesture he nearly cums in his pants.

His ears and neck feel so hot he decides to bury his face in the pillow to keep you from noticing.

He would either flip the tables on you at some point or (try to) go to sleep in hope everything would be fine once he wakes up again.

Gentleness.

That's right. You heard me. This man will crumble at your feet every time you care for him like he's a pretty princess.

I'm not necessarily talking about grand gestures. Simple and natural ones are the most effective. The type that you wouldn't even notice you are doing it.

Slow caresses on his shoulder or hands, checking to see if he's alright while cradling his face, patiently explaining something to him, wiping his face if there was something on it, running your fingers through his hair... ECT.

He has a distinct memory of you being so worried about him when he scrapped his hand during his daily troubles— It was no different than a paper cut to him, but the blood made it seem worse than it actually was and that caused you to immediately fuss.

He watched with such genuine adoration as you tended to his wounds; Your furrowed eyebrows as you focused, the soft concern in your voice when you asked if the disinfectant stung and how could Sylus not pretend that it hurt? Just a little bit. Just enough to hear more of your encouragement that it was almost done and he was doing well.

Trust me, it will lead to him kissing you without warning, seemingly out of nowhere, once it's done and prepare yourself for the best night ever.

(I cut this short like four times and still ended up being long....oh well.)

Helping him with his clothes.

Each time you fix his crooked, poorly tied necktie (which he absolutely hates to wear) or straighten up his collar for him Rafayel is fighting back demons.

This also applies to you helping him actually dress up (or undress) and picking out his outfits without him having to ask.

The sight of you standing in front of him, hands swiftly buttoning up his shirt, has him weak in the knees. It makes him feel as you're truly his partner. That this is the married life the two of you deserved to have eons ago.

Speaking of undressing, this naughty fish will absolutely tease you about unbuckling his belt.

He would take a seat on a nearby chair with a dramatic sigh before he asked for you to help him with his clothes because he was oh so very tired to do it himself.

He leans back against the chair as if it was his own personal throne, knees slack as he spread comfortably and tilts his head to the side to rest it on his hand.

"I have an early morning tomorrow, you know. Won't you finish helping me so we can head to bed?" It sounds innocent enough, rather playful even, but the expression on his face is anything but. Just look at the volume on his pants, he ain't fooling anybody.

Hearing his own name + Whispering.

Last but most definitely not least, everyone's favorite boy.

It doesn't matter what's happening the second you say his name his full attention is on you. It's like a very well trained dog.

He can tell what you're feeling, sometimes even thinking, based on the way you call him alone. It comes with the years of experience of being your best friend.

It however also comes with the perpetual problem that his body reacts so well to your voice that it ends up being a little *too* well.

You may be in the middle of an argument yet the moment you say his name Caleb would be fighting back a boner. upcoming fic sneakpeek—i mean what

Another odd turn on of his is when you whisper something in his ear.

It doesn't really matter what you're saying. The sound of your voice so close to him and the way he can feel your warm breath tickling his skin is enough to have this man crossing his legs and praying his bulge is subtle.

You can imagine the nightmare this was during teen years when the two of you would sneak around grandma's house.

[comatosebunny09]

cw: female reader, female anatomy described, penetrative sex, spooning position, bodily fluids, clitoral stimulation, explicit language, biting, slow mornings with him, 1k of filth, mdni

Soft, hazy morning sex with him.

You’re both exhausted. He just settled in from an arduous night. You’re waking up to begin a grueling day without him. No telling when your schedules will align like this again.

He’s thick, long, and throbbing between your thighs. Blisteringly heavy, pushing through your labia to coat his shaft with your slick with each rock of your hips. His arms tighten around your torso. Forehead drops into the pocket of your shoulder. He groans something barely there through gritted teeth as he rolls his pelvis to match the maddening tempo of yours.

He apologized when consciousness first came toddling in for being hard, pressed up against your back as he spooned you.

You smiled. Told him it was fine as you soothingly stroked over his hand on your belly.

It’s not like he could help something as natural as morning wood. And it worsened things because everything about you turned him on.

So, here you are—moving against each other like a well-oiled machine, stoking that sparkling flame in your gut. Your breath hastens each time the flared head of his cock bumps your clit.

He’s got your nipples between his fingers, tugging, rolling, tweaking, stroking. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder to muffle those pretty sounds, hair tickling your neck, breath hot and ragged against your skin.

The head of his cock prods the pucker of your cunt on one particular undulation, and you both sigh at the wonderful friction. The threat of an impending union.

It’s obscene, the sticky sound your cunt makes when he draws himself out, before prodding your opening again. This time, he pushes a little deeper until his head’s fully submerged in the molten clench of your sex, and it’s an ego boost when his hips shake like that, voice trembling as if he’s fighting not to bully his way further in.

You do that for him, canting your hips back just right as he rocks forward with another thrust. This time, he’s pushed deeper, and you wholly suck him into your shuddering walls. The sound he lets out prickles your toes. Strokes your pride, swirls in your gut, his voice strained with the effort of feeding his cock into you.

You lie there, motionless, fastened together, while he tries to catch his breath, and you adjust to the intrusion. You swivel your hips once you’ve reacquainted yourself with his size, bearing down on him, wordlessly spurring him to move.

And he does just that, rolling and notching up against you, the vulgar squelches of your unification salting the quiet, gold-tinged atmosphere of your bedroom, intermingled with that of your pleasured voices—yours high and light, his dark, raspy, and crooning.

His arms are locked tight around your body, anchoring you to him as he fucks you. Lazy, slow-weighted, tortuous. He nips your ear, murmuring obscenities into it. Drags his mouth down, littering your neck with praise, grunts, breaths, open-mouthed kisses. He fills you wholly, ruining you for anyone else. Molding you to the shape of him, drawing pretty keens from trembling lips.

He slips his hand between your thighs, fingers sifting through your folds to find the thick throb of your clit, and he strokes it in methodical arcs, heightening your pleasure, that wash of color, that pulse of sensation.

He fucks into you in tandem with the stride of his fingers. Whispers how gorgeous you are. How deep you take him. How sexy you sound as he claims you, over and over and over again.

At some point during your delicious, maddening dance, he rolls onto his back, taking you with him. And he’s got you wide and slick on top, stroking your clit, your feet propped on his quads as he languidly and stickily thrusts up into you.

He’s taken a liking to your throat, biting, marking, dragging his tongue over welting skin to ease the burn. You’re both sweating, panting. You’re rolling your pelvis to match the ruck of his hips, to chase the scrawl of his fingers. Gripping his thighs, nails printing waning moons into his flesh, chasing that rush. That sluggish push towards the slurry edge of a waterfall.

Coupled with his doting voice, his tender instruction, praise, the slow grind of his cock, and the press of his fingers on your swelling clump of nerves, you cum.

Pressure uncoils, slowly undoing itself like a spider unwinding its prey from its web. You cum hard, lazy, blinding, his name a supplication on your lips, a kaleidoscope of colors dancing behind your shuttered lids. 

He draws his fingers away from between your thighs as you begin your descent, still nestled deep inside you, the cadence of his hips a little quicker. Choppier as he chases his own ascent, fingers tight on your hip. His hand is a warm, comforting pressure over your belly, pressing down as he pushes deep, and had you not already been swimming in your skin, you could’ve cum again.

With a shaky breath in, biting into the slope of your shoulder, and a shuddering growl muffled by your skin, he cums. Hard, twitching, eye-rolling, toe-curling, coating the soft webbing of your cunt with scorching spurts of white.

You turn your head as your breaths even, as you both settle into your skin, meeting him for a kiss. You laugh between each sticky grind of your lips, youthful, enamored, and he slowly softens inside you, palms worshipful as they stroke over your body, as he pushes the sweetest compliments of all into your mouth with each swipe of his tongue.

You ended up being late for work after he tickled you into submission. After your laughter kissed the air, died down to make way for tender conversation, and he’d drawn you back into the safe circle of his arms, sighing like a contented feline into the hollow of your neck before sinking below the surface of consciousness.

The write-up was worth it if it meant spending a little more time savoring the slow creep of the morning with the love of your life.