#i say main like i have any other blogs

[necrotic-nephilim]

Sorry if this might be a rude question but why don’t you just make a seperate account for your nsfw fics?

not rude, it's a valid question! tbh it's a combination of a couple reasons.

i started posting anonymous dead dove batcest fics long before i had the balls to make a tumblr. at first i was content to just leave them unassociated with each other because i didn't really care about them being tied to me. i made this blog to actually show solidarity to my partner who wanted to make a sideblog for Sandman comic stuff so we could cheerlead each other and be brave together, since i've wanted to make a batcest sideblog but i've been nervous about actually having to get it going. (mal ik you're reading this go be brave and actually make your blog so i can cheerlead you damnit-) only did it dawn on me then that i should probably mention the fics i've written on the blog after like, three of them were posted anonymously. and it would've annoyed me to have half of them anonymous and half of them not, because notifications for them would've gone in different places. i could go back and take my fics off anon if i wanted to, but i can't switch the account they're on without taking them down entirely and that'd fuck over people who have them bookmarked already.

which, ties into my second reason, if i made an entire second ao3 account it'd be harder for me to see notifications, reply to stuff, and post things for both accounts because i'd have to constantly switch. and honestly i'd be terrified of accidentally posting on the wrong one on a brain fog day. posting fics is always the most tedious part of writing them for me lol. it's easier for me to stay logged into one account and have all of my stuff in one place for me and just use the anonymous collection when i feel like it. if ao3 pseuds worked like tumblr blogs, where you can't see all my side blogs but i can, i would've used pseuds, but since you can see all pseuds on an ao3, i felt it was a moot point.

and the last reason is i just feel more comfortable being anonymous on ao3 because of the rise in anti culture. on tumblr it's very easy for me to just filter that out and find the people i want to follow and block the people i don't. i don't mind getting hate, on tumblr or on ao3. but i think, for whatever reason you want to blame it on, there's been a massive boom of antis on ao3 who are very entitled about how they read on ao3. i tag extensively, but i just feel safer from getting targeted attacks if everything i write on ao3 isn't attached to one profile. if people like a fic i wrote, want to find more i always link my tumblr in the notes, but if an anti wants to get huffy with me, they can't easily track down my other things. they definitely could if they wanted to, but being anonymous on ao3 just makes me feel more secluded, in a weird way. it's like saying "if you want you can come find me but on here i'm just a weird faceless guy throwing stuff in the void". i've used ao3's anon feature a lot, actually, i used to be a hydra trash party dumpster kid back when that was in it's prime.

i also used to be vaguely popular on a different tumblr blog and my main ao3 and while i think it'd definitely be cool if i got a decent chunk of followers on this blog too, i don't really miss having fanfiction do so well i got targetted hate on all of my fics from the same people, i had my fics stolen, etc. it was really exhausting for me. i have 120+ works on ao3, not counting what's anonymous, and that level of exposure tires me, even when i use my main ao3 to post things that aren't trashy. it's just a weird feeling knowing so many people are subscribed to you on ao3 and what if you post something they won't like because you jumped fandoms again, or you're posting something niche, or you don't think it fills enough fandom tropes to be well-liked. i used to obsessively think like that, and it made me not write the things i wanted to because i cared about numbers. and i don't want to slide back into that hole. writing on anonymous is mostly to remind myself i wrote this for me, and if other people like it, they can come find me, but i don't have to perform like that anymore. if i get a really weird fucked up idea, i can write the really weird fucked up idea. at the end of the day, just makes me more comfortable! but i get it's a super confusing set up from an outsider perspective so, i really don't mind the question, thank you for asking!!

[grainthief]

posting the homoerotic ultrakill art on main

[sorikkung]

so if i did nsfw art of hongjoong. hypothetically. would anyone be interested in seeing it,

[sweetvalentinescandy]

im so disappointed in my art lately . im not a beginner artist, but i feel like everything i do looks like i am . i feel like it would only be acceptable for a beginner . i havent made any progress since i was 11 . today is not a good day

[istherewifiinhell]

banging my head against the wall. does anyone wanna go insane and read TMNT Mirage #37 with me? An emotionally fraught jouney of faith and family and battling for or against your roots of eons past? You should. But if your not in for reading a 40 page comic I have a condensed visual/textual moments and summation for you! You might enjoy it!

[Mirage 37, Rick McCollum and Bill Anderson]

ID: Turtles walking through a forest with full camping bags. Mikey has his mask around his neck and wears a bucket hat: Well..." Raph wears a wide brimmed fedora type hat, he balances one sai by its point on his finger: "You do got a point, buddy." Leo is shadowed in the back with a straw hat. END

[In this comic the turtles are depicted with understated beaks and look lankier than Classic Mirage style. Their skin is usually in the darker of the 2 toners, and their masks are left without toner.]

ID: From behind the group, Don and Mikey in silhouette up front. Behind them, Raph is throwing his sai in the air. Leo is saying "I believe you Don, but... Spiritual meaning? Maybe you're reading too much into it." Close on Don's face, frowning "No, I'm not." END.

[See Donatello: The Ring, in Turtle Soup #2] Here's what you missed: Don went on a spiritual journey by himself. Now he wants them all to experience it.

ID: Three turtles and Splinter in the farm house living room. Raph and Mikey on the couch with books, Leo on the floor polishing his sword. Splinter standing to the side. Raph: Yeah, but Casey's car's on the blink. Mike: I hope its doesn't fall apart while he's out with April. Leo: Don will fix it when he returns. Raph has one leg up, is tossing some shuriken in one hand, his books says "Fun with sai". Mike slouches and has a drink can, his book is "Life of Bruce Lee" END

ID: Three Panels of Don explaining his experience in front of a large fire, fiddling with his bo staff, the flames curl around him as he speaks. A brow raised: But it wasn't the trees- It was one of us! The Father of All Reptiles Looking contemplative: He was a turtle. Or a ghost. Some kind of spirit... With a sheepish smile: And I'm glad I met him. He said I was special... END

Splinter reprimands the other turtles for not taking Don seriously. His lecture:

"Your lack of respect is unbecoming. Have I so failed you that you have no feel for your heritage, your roots? Reptiles ruled this world for uncounted eons, your people strode the land, slipped through the warm seas, and skittered about the sky. Though gone, their blood is your blood. And their spirit should be yours! They are your elders, with their bones left in the rock, lasting forever in the skin of the world. Respect them, and honor their spirits as you do me!" "Recall the time you spent, eons past, with your friend Renet. How you spoke of it once you'd returned! Did you not feel a sense of unity with that time? Did you not resonate to the heart-beat of the archosaurs? Your enthusiasm lingered for weeks."

[See Tales of TMNT 7] They went back in time and met dinosaurs, amongst other things.

ID: Panels with a close up on each character. April in profile, with a solemn look: You babbled on about it for days. Mike smiling wide: Yeah! It was warm! Leo, clutching his sword, looking away: I felt so free! Raph, his mask pushed up to his forehead, an eyes closed smile: Three months of fishing! Don, holding his staff, looking down: Yes, I was... Happy. END

Splinter continues to speak.

"Happiness…Ah, Donatello, it is so ephemeral. As was the time of those reptiles. Everything is a ring, and the ring turns. The world grew cold, small, furry creatures came out of the shadows. The dinosaurs died. The age of mammals began."

Raph, upset, gets disparaging about what the predominance of mammals has done to the earth.

ID: Three panels. Raph, shocked, hand over his mouth: I can't believe I said that. Splinter looming over Raph, who jerks back. Splinter: ~Think~ before~ you~ speak~ Raphael! Raph: I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Splinter: Need I remind you that your best friend Casey Jones is a mammal? Close on Raph and April. Splinter off panel: Not to mention myself? Raph: Eep! April grimacing: I'm feeling warm-blooded and hairy also! END

ID: Four panels. Caption box: And look they do— Raph looking at two trees growing diagonally, thinking: I don't even know what I'm looking for. Leo, partially hidden behind foliage, thinking: Something's up. I feel... something. Mike, looking at a tree that's grown a loop in its trunk, thinking: Is this a "spiritual experience?" Don, walking through the trees in silhouette thinking: Why can't I find the place?" END

After a day of searching, they camp, but Mike goes missing during his watch in the night.

ID: Two panels, each showing Raph and Don and they face off and argue, their speech bubbles placed between them. Raph is backed up against a tree, angry, clenching his sais tightly. Don has his bo like a walking stick, and seems calmer.

Raph: Why? Mike needs us! Don, with an irregular speech bubble: Either he is alive or he is dead. The quest is more important. R: What are you talking about? What's wrong with you? D, normal bubble: Nothing. I had a dream last night. If we give up the quest, we've lost. R: Mike is more important! D: That's what the adversary hopes you think. R: What adversary? D, irregular bubble: Have Faith. R: Donatello! D, regular bubble: Remember when you devovled? We kept faith. R, yelling: AAARGH! END

[See Mirage 24-26] Raph was de-mutated into a regular turtle, his brothers had to go on a journey to save him.

ID: Leo, mask off, scowling "This is what we'll do. Break camp. Consolidate our gear. Bury what's left. We're on a combat mission now. We'll keep faith, Don, but--. A narrow panel of Don, drawn small, gripping his staff: What? Leo getting in Don's face, displeased: I hate leaving Mike. -- Just make sure you're right. END

Raph goes missing on their second nights watch, Don becomes stranger and more convicted about this quest.

ID: Leo, furiously, points in the direction of the viewer, accusing Don. "What's with you? Why are you so out of it?! -- What's wrong with your voice? [Larger text] Don't you care about Mike or Raph?! END

ID: Don sits facing away from Leo, gripping his staff, angry, speaking towards his hands. Leo looks on from a ways back, dramatically lit. Don: [Large text] Of course I do! [Normal text] But... I don't know what's wrong with my voice. I don't know who the Adversary is. And yet..." END

ID from alt: Two panels, Leo glaring, getting in Don's face, pointing at his beak, grabbing Don's staff. "Who told you this?" Don has brows raised. Don, with a wincing smile: "The Father of us all." END

ID: Multiple panels. Close on Leo, "Remember what I said about being sure?" Don holding his staff in front of himself, seemingly scared, "Leo, please." Mid on Leo, more neutral frown, "Don..." Full body, Leo turns away, the wind picks up. Leo facing away, pulled back shot. "Let's keep going." END

Narration as they travel further into stranger and stranger territory.

Leonardo: What was to be a relaxing romp has become a grueling death march. Sweating and hacking through the threatening undergrowth, he understands that he is hopelessly lost. As lost as Donatello seems to be, following an Unknown pull, mumbling to somebody only he can hear Donatello: while Leonardo must fight the wild landscape, he slips easily through the thorns. And he listens, and talks. Hair is better than scales? The birds are traitors, having stolen the secret of hot blood? Giants, brought low by small, furry ones? As he pursues the silent beckoning, he learns...

They have a run in with a foe in pitch black forest. They take many hits but score one back, severing one limb, hairy and clawed, then retreat. Don garbs himself in some make shift religious fair, using his blanket, mud and ash. The two sleep, they dream.

And they dream the same dream. They see their blood rise and rule. The ring is turning. The reptiles differentiate, and claim the seas and air. They see their family as it might have become- If the ring hadn't broken. They feel contempt for their children, the birds, as they invade the skies. But it is nothing compared to the fear which the small hairy ones bring. The furry horde had been around since the reptiles beginnings- swarming… unstoppable.

ID: Three panels. Caption Box: The morning brings questions. Leo and Don sit with their backs to a tree. Don's taken his mask off, made a dark markings on his face and body, and wears a hood. Leo: Did you dream-? Don: Yes. Leo looks upset, gestures with a hand in front of himself. "I... felt grief. Anguish. They must be let loose. -- But why? And how?" Don's face is completely shadowed by his hood, his eyes and teeth stick out in far too much detail. It is an unsettling smile. "You're starting to learn." END

Another fight, Don's leg is broken by the mammalian Adversary. Leo, with all the weight of the loss of his brothers, takes position to make a last stand protecting him. But Don urges him to continue on, to find and aid the Father of all Reptiles.

ID: Many panels, Don injured, propped against a tree. Eyes closed in pain he says "Can't you hear?" Leo looks behind them. A strange voice says "Come." Close on Don, crying, yelling at Leo "Go! Please! I have faith in you!" Leo's eyes, frowning. Leo's hand, offering his sword. Leo's eyes, he's crying through his mask. "Take this." Don's hand taking the sword from Leo. Narrow panel, Leo walks away, remaining sword drawn. "Fight well." END

ID: A cut off panel with dialogue, and a close on Leo, framed between two rocks, crying heavily. The says: You have become one with sorrow. You are sad. I am glad. Now we may speak. END

Leo climbs and the conversation continues.

Narration: There are sounds behind him, as he climbs. Voice: Your brother Donatello gave me joy when we met. I thought it would release me from my grief. Narration: Following him as he scampers every higher. Voice: I tried to go. But joy is ephemeral-- Narration: Leonardo reaches the top with haste. Voice: While melancholy lasts forever.

Leo sits at the mountain peak, thinks of his brothers, contemplates the sounds of the Adversary below and the Father of all Reptiles speaks to him more, as he falls into sleep.

This is my nexus, my holy spot. This is my prison, where I am trapped by my sadness. Dream of extinction. Dream of death. Once we were, now we are not. You and yours are what we could have been-- Had not the hairy ones come. All the scaly brethren are my children… But they hairy ones killed them-

Leo wakes slowly to a growl, then all at once with a yelp.

ID: Full page, the Father of all reptiles finishes in a yell. "THEY ATE MY EGGS!" The mammalian Adversary's loud growl just under the speech bubble. It looms in the panel, over Leo at the bottom, his sword drawn. The Adversary, large and rodent like, fur dark, eyes gleaming, foam dripping from its mouth. One arm severed and still bleeding, implanted in it are the weapons from Leo's brothers. Raph's sai in its leg, Mike's nunchaku in the stub of its arm, Don's staff and Leo's other sword in its chest. Other small rodents cling to its form. Surrounding the image, marginalia in the corners. Cracked eggs up top, rodents in the bottom. And a border of text, listing eras, genera and species of or relating to early mammals. END

Leo's brothers, injured, wounds wrapped and broken limbs braced, are following his trail. They see signs in the sky, Mikey thinks it looked like a massive turtle. Don is assured with his faith that this means the Father of All Reptiles is aiding Leo, and that they should rest. Mike and Raph leave him to sit at the mountain base (offering him another weapon for protection), and make their way up.

Narration: At the pinnacle, a warm, fresh breeze wafts downward. The trees below grow normal. Throughout the world, fossil Mesozoic eggs break apart, as fetal reptile souls are let loose. Paleontologists will find no more intact eggs. EVER.

ID: Full page panel, Leo sits at the base of the giant cracked egg of the Father of All Reptiles. Sword dangling, he's exhausted, blood splatters him, his sword, and the mottled surface of the egg shell. The Adversary's head and remaining hand are laying to one side, the dark mass of fur on his other. His brothers cresting the peak see him, and he says "We freed him. The wheel is moving again. The ring is whole." Caption box: And whole, the ring moves on. A Marginalia drawing in the corner shows a small rodent, the front of its body inside the cracked shell of an egg. END

[take-ya-to-the-ghey-bar]

Just a quick PSA of sorts...

as the title says, this is just a little psa sort of post, but anyways… i just wanted to take a second and say that it's come to my attention that i'm probably a person who misjudges boundaries more easily than i thought i did… sure, i feel like most of you guys i'm mutuals with, and chat even a bit with ooc are people i'm close to-- but i guess sometimes i let the line for that blur a bit too much, and don't end up picking on the fact that the other person i'm talking with might not feel the same way i do…

so in relation to that-- i'd just like to ask all my mutuals, that if we're chatting about something, and i bring up something that makes you uncomfortable-- or i try to send/do go ahead and send you something that you didn't want me to-- please, please make that clear with me-- be a little blunt or rude if you feel that's what needed for me to get it, but just… be clear with me, and communicate if i've done something to mess up and overstep anywhere, please…

[snekdood]

Quite honestly, i think people just dont like to acknowledge how many times i have been victimized bc it doesnt work for their narrative of the Scary Bad Trans Guy With No Regard For Others And Likes To Kick Puppies And Doesnt Know Real Pain Or Trauma

[readingwriter92]

Finished watching John Mulaney’s new stand up on Netflix and it immediately reccomended night agent??? Those two things seem very different. But since I think I was seeing gifs sets of it on whump blogs i just went. Fuck it. And decided to start.

I’m enjoying. Yep.

[equalseleventhirds]

i know that everyone is entitled to their own opinions and interpretations of things, but i am also, and if i don't have a semi-regular session of griping and being contrary then i will wither away and die. so i think it's fine as long as i'm not like, saying it to ppl's faces. u kno.

[white-cat-of-doom]

I posted 2,327 times in 2022

827 posts created (36%)

1,500 posts reblogged (64%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@the-cat-at-the-theatre-door

@munku-collar

@white-cat-of-doom

@sillybub

@cassandra-has-moonlit-eyes

I tagged 2,321 of my posts in 2022

#cats the musical - 2,288 posts

#cats musical - 2,287 posts

#cats us tour 6 - 356 posts

#jellylorum - 262 posts

#victoria - 260 posts

#demeter - 253 posts

#bombalurina - 247 posts

#cats rccl cast 12 - 244 posts

#cats uk tour 2022 - 232 posts

#cats international tour 2022 - 230 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#part of me wants to change my avatar to one of these pieces but i cannot bring myself to take away the 2019 rumple i have had for two years

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Today is the day! The Il Sistina production of CATS opens tonight (07 December 2022) in Rome!

Below are some more specific character photos, outside of larger group photos.

Jacopo Pelliccia as Gatto Giò (Bustopher Jones, a separate character in this production).

Photos taken by Gianluca Sarago.

Gaia Soprano as Cassandra.

See the full post

133 notes - Posted December 7, 2022

#4

Everyone generally knows what the Rumpus Cat looks like in traditional productions, right? A bit silly, with funky hair and red eyes.

Meanwhile in Japan, the modern Rumpus Cat looks like this:

The hero we never knew we needed.

(Fukuoka 2021, January 2022; Kenshin Mori as Rumpus Cat, Miki Okudaira as Jellylorum, Eiko Kataoka as Rumpleteazer, Yuki Takahashi as Old Deuteronomy, Taijun Kanemoto as Munkustrap, and Yurie Sato as Bombalurina. Almost fully hidden is Haruaki Tamai as Mungojerrie.)

141 notes - Posted February 21, 2022

#3

Rehearsals have started for the production of CATS at Teatro Sistina in Italy, starting 07 December 2022, an officially licensed non-replica from RUG.

The designs are interesting in that they have reference sheets for both the makeup and costume.

See the full post

149 notes - Posted November 9, 2022

#2

The promotional pictures for the UK/International Tour 2022 have been posted!

See the full post

181 notes - Posted May 31, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I never uploaded these pictures last year, so I figured now would be a fun time to celebrate Pride Month again. Who better than with my favourite cast of Cats in Vienna?

See the full post

192 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[mammons-housespouse]

I'm trying to get into Arcana Twilight but it's really fucking hard when the gacha system sucks ass like it does

I should be able to get SOMETHING good after spending some money, but it's not guaranteed which is garbage

So far I like the story, the characters, and obviously I like the game mechanics since it's just obey me with different paint but. not a fan of the gacha >:(

[artsy-dreamer]

…gonna answer that anon ask in the tags of this post

[ciatana]

i am going to pride tomorrow and im gonna have a good day with my friends!!!

[withoutawar]

endgame compliant-ish verse ; 

steve sets off alone on his journey to return the stones

the past 5 years has been his definition of hell. his worst nightmare is not being able to do anything and that was pretty much the situation he was in after the first snap, and upon finding out that thanos had destroyed the stones already 

he tries his best to help people. his words have always carried weight and have helped people keep fighting on when they were about to lose hope. he’s inspired entire platoons and men on the brink of death before. group therapy isn’t exactly the the same and he finds himself flat out lying to people and therefore not gaining anything out of it himself 

he’s ready to die facing thanos in the final battle

he’s prepared to die returning these stones 

he knows how important it is to return them exactly where they’d found them in order to keep the timeline in tact

the last 2 he has to return is the soul and space stone

vomir, with no stone to guard, has no guardian. he makes the exchange, a soul for soul. perhaps he could have asked for anyone’s soul but he asks for natasha

her soul was taken before her body hit the ground. once returned, she has the spirit to fight. she survives. steve puts his space suit on her, and takes her to the top of the cliff where the red skull has been called back by the soul stone, forever under its curse

steve and red skull fight. red skull wants natasha dead again to free him from the curse, steve wants red skull dead because. well, he’s a nazi and did atrocious things and also don’t touch natasha. 

the space stone, in steve’s safe keeping has a bond with the red skull because it is what sent him to vomir in the first place, way back in 1945 

because 1945 middle of the atlantic ocean, and vomir is a known path to the space stone, it reacts and reverses the first space-jump, sending both steve and the red skull back to the valkyrie, 1945 ( shhh space, time, what’s the difference . . . )

natasha is left --- if she’s smart, which she is --- to use the quantum jump thingy in her / steve’s suit to escape vomir. there are two jumps programmed in. one to 1970-something where steve was supposed to return the space stone. and one to the present. she completes the mission --- half dead, mind you --- in putting the space stone back into the lab, and uses the last jump back to the present to hopefully find out whatever the fuck happened to steve

in doing so --- she corrects the timeline in which the stones were stolen from, and returns to the ‘ main ’ timeline. minus steve 

because the space stone had essentially pulled red skull and steve from two spaces into one, they become one with their counter selves that were fighting on the valkyrie

steve decapitates the red skull fucking finally, and in doing so, creates a reality branch ( or whatever it’s called when a timeline diverges with no real consequence i.e. TVA doesn’t give a fuck ) 

because he’s a live ( yay ) he’s found by the search party that peggy sent out

the time travel and the space stone magic fucked up his serum allowing him to grow old

it should be noted that when he gave natasha the suit, he slapped the spare time jumpy bracelet thing on himself ( because ofc bruce gave him a spare. ) he very much has the ability to go the present but chooses not to 

natasha arrives in bruce’s little portal platform ( again she’s basically dead someone PLEASE help her ) 

steve being the dramatic bitch that he is chooses that moment to use his time jumpy thing to portal in and the rest goes as it does in endgame, except that steve would be more emotional to see sam and bucky, who are practically ghosts from a different life to him now 

[luna7822]

imagine going to my inbox and literally spamming the exact same crap message over and over of which has no relation to my blog whatsoever and that ive already been sick of this shit for who tf knows how many months now tbh cuz in all honesty idgaf if any of assholes accuse me of zion whatever atp cuz u srsly dont know the real meaning of the word anyways but the only reason i never gave a single fuck abt this from the beginning is that i personally dont want any engagement at all in any way shape or form since polo word sucks ass and guess fucking what? ppl srsly took my words too damn personally for no legit fucking reason (looking at u 0^c as a whole for how complete shit u are...) as if not giving a shit is a crime now some weird reason and overall this whole thing is basically the reason why i pretty much have 0 trust in most f^^bases nowadays and ESPECIALLY the 0^c having the worst case of them all by going after creators for no reason other than not wanting to tweet it 247 or whatever since those ppl literally drive me mad bybacting like ur somehow the """"worst person ever"""" for even dare saying u just want nothing to do with it and thats it cuz istg the way they treat those ppl and even neutrals too is beyond fucking ridiculous when even neutrals like me or whatever did nothing wrong in the first place and if u dare throw shit accusations at me theb u will be blocked on site with 0 exceptions cuz this shit has driven me insane for months now and thank fucking god i barely give a fuck abt most f^^bases since they suck ass no matter what and always will suck ass but still

[aeyumicore]

please & thank you

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: sylus x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with very little/no plot, porn with feelings

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 7.5k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, SLIGHT spoilers to the lore (with some of my own interpretations and theories), oral m!receiving, fingering f!receiving, face/throat fucking, finger sucking, kinda rough, size difference, cuffing/tied up (m!receiving), sylus kindaaaa/degrading mean but in a tasteful way, he’s also very soft for reader, sylus has a FILTHY mouth, orgasm denial (f! and m!receiving), mirror sex, improper use of Evol, use of Y/N, cute petnames hehe (little dove, little bird, sweetheart, doll, etc), slight predator and prey, choking (kinda breath play??? not really), some references to lore (main storyline + midnight stealth), kinda sub!reader, dom!sylus, THIS IS FILTHY YALL IDK WHAT ELSE TO SAY

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: ao3

━ ✧.˖ A/N: hi guyssss she is here <3 MY FIRST ever sylus fic, first of many me thinks bc i am so utterly infatuated w him im sorry zayne LOL

i did NOT end up making this connected to ‘midnight stealth’ OR ‘no defense zone’ (although some midnight stealth plot is referenced a tiny bit in the beginning). any resemblances to these two memories are purely coincidental, mostly similar because there’s use of cuffs/restraints in all three. this is purely a standalone filthy fic

this has veryyyy little plot, i decided to keep it that way so im sorry to those who wanted to see plot in this ;_; i didn’t want to burn out, which i likely would’ve because pivoting from what i had (5.6k words) to a more plot based fic would have taken me a few more days and probably double the words and i just couldn’t do that to myself. 

i appreciate you guys for supporting me and i really respect each and every opinion so i hope i didn’t let anyone down by not doing the plot version. there will be plenty of opportunities for that i promise <3

pls enjoy :) any comments or reblogs r greatly appreciated (and loved) by me <3 they help me keep motivated to keep writing and truly make my whole week.

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ .

You were playing with fire.

Actually, what you were doing was definitely more dangerous and infinitely more idiotic than playing with fire. 

It was downright deranged. 

It appeared the silver haired man beneath you agreed, his jaw ticking dangerously as his deep crimson eyes crinkled in warning, “Are you sure this is a game you want to play?” 

You knew the answer was definitely no. But the mere glimpse of the Onychinus leader beneath you, at your mercy, was enough to make you push through the thrilling fear coursing through your veins.

With Sylus’s chiseled body unwillingly sprawled out before you, you situated yourself in between his thighs. Though his words and expression were laced with a cautionary edge, his legs spread open for you. 

His wrists were bound with the two silver cuffs you’d purchased at a novelty store on girls day out with Tara, each hand simultaneously locked to the steel beams of your bed’s headboard. With his arms bound above his head, his button up shirt rode up to expose his pale and scarred skin and the defined outlines of the chiseled pelvic muscles that lead to his manhood.

It wasn’t a stretch to say you’d planned this, after all you did buy the cuffs with Sylus in mind. And you’d never forget what Luke and Kieran had told you, in what felt like a lifetime ago. 

“Boss is most vulnerable when he’s sleeping.” 

Except now you weren’t binding him for the purpose of incapacitating him to find that damned brooch he’d taunted you with. Now, when he’d dozed off after you’d forced him to marathon the Harry Potter series with you, you tied him up with only one goal in mind.

Well maybe two. To tease and to punish.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you watch the way Sylus’s naval rises and falls irregularly, a subtle sign of his boiling anticipation. His exposed pelvis is dusted in a faint path of hair, trailing to where his pants hang dangerously low on his hips, after you’d taken his belt off. 

Sylus watches you with a careful eye as your hands find his waistband, tugging his bottoms and his boxers down in one motion. He tuts disapprovingly, even as his body lifts every so slightly to assist you in undressing him, “I’ve already warned you once. I won’t warn you again.” 

And yet, there’s an undeniable amusement in his voice that lets you know it’s safe to keep going. Your eye contact never breaks as you tug his clothing all the way down, until they rest at his ankles. His hardening cock springs free as you do so, the thick mushroom head already leaking a shiny streak of precum. As it slaps against his abdomen, Sylus’s carmine irises darken, but he refuses to make any sounds. The screech of steel rattling against steel is loud in the tense air, the formidable man’s fists clenched so tightly his nails threaten to break his skin. 

You bend down slowly, torturously languid, until his masculine scent invades your senses. You shiver in pleasure, positively addicted to every part of him. Sylus’s stomach heaves as he curses you inwardly; you were the only devilish minx that could even fathom rendering him into this vulnerable state. The only person he’d ever allow to see him like this. 

“You’ve become quite bold, little bird. Perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you.”

His cocky attitude makes you want to shiver, but you find the strength to retort back, “Perhaps you have.”

Not wanting to give him a chance to respond, and a chance for you to lose your courage, you let your tongue run over the thick tip of his erection, collecting his arousal on your tongue. You make a show of savoring his taste, letting your eyes bat at him while you lick him clean. 

Sylus is hypnotized, crunching up to watch you. His wrists pull against the metal restraints, growing irritated with being held back. Of course, if he’d wanted to, he could snap the cuffs with a mere tick of his fingers, but he found it amusing to watch his mischievous little bird believe she had control. 

When you take his head fully into your lips, Sylus’s hips involuntarily buck up into the heaven that is your mouth. Though surprised, you do your best to accommodate the extra inches, tongue twirling around his leaking slit as your jaw unhinges to take in his fat girth. 

“Fuck.” 

Sylus’s dark eyebrows are scrunched as he fights the urge to destroy the cuffs to get to you, wanting nothing more than to sink his fingers into your hair and push you down until you couldn’t breathe. But he prided himself as a man of patience, even if he despised being tested. 

And you were absolutely testing him. Your puffy lips caressed his sensitive veins, tongue assaulting every flaming nerve of his massive length, delicate and soft fingers leaving no inch of him untouched. Yet you moved so languidly. Deliberately testing how far you could push him, testing his resolve. Not that he would ever beg, but he desperately wished you’d move faster, take him deeper. 

“My love,” he purrs, deceptively calm even as your filthy tongue lathered his most sensitive parts, “I implore you to release me. While I’m still feeling generous.” 

Doing your best to shut him up, you take him into the back of your throat, fingers shifting from the base of his manhood to his heavyset balls. You’re only half successful in your antics, as you do cut off Sylus’s demands, only to be replaced by an inexplicable string of curses. The daunting leader of the Onychinus, whose name evoked fear itself to most, unraveled at your whims. A man who had no weaknesses, save for one.

You.

With his head thrown back, hair tousled and matted with a thin layer of sweat, he began to pant heavily. His neck bobbed deeply to the rhythm of his gasps, hands pulling against the restraints you’d locked him into. The sound of metal clashing against metal is almost deafening, your head snapping up to his arms bound above his head. 

For a second you’d feared he’d snapped the steel cuffs, his biceps rippling and forearm veins bulging with the sheer strength of his arms. But fortunately for you, his wrists were still firmly bound, a red angry circle forming where the metal met the pale skin of his hands. 

“Do you really think – hah – this will end well for you, dove?” Sylus considers this your very last warning, crunching up once again to watch you, your mouth full of his cock, saliva dribbling down your chin as you try to accommodate his thickness. He swears under his breath at the sight of you, his woman, the only person he’d ever even consider letting his guard down around, pleasuring him so sweetly and enthusiastically. Even if you were so foolish that you thought you could get away with typing him up. 

You look up innocently at him, fluttering your eyelashes as you fuck him with your mouth. Though you let him hit the back of your throat every time, your rhythm is intentionally and torturously slow, edging him without making it obvious enough for punishment. And although each intentional motion elicits the most mind numbing grip from your gag reflex on his throbbing erection, he’s losing his mind from how much more he wants. How much more he needs. 

“Faster.”

You nearly choke as you giggle at his demands, releasing his cock with a resounding pop. Of course, even tied up, Sylus didn't use the word ‘please.’ The man of unthinkable power was absolutely used to getting what he wanted without even batting an eye. It was a habit that he rarely relented on, and when he did it was only for you. 

“What’s the magic word?”

Sylus glowered at you, jaw twitching dangerously as he did his best to hold himself back, “Watch it.” 

It was truly taking every ounce of willpower he had to not rip the cuffs off the steel beams of your bed, taking your headboard apart with it. All so he could have more.

“Sylus,” you pout, still using your hands to gingerly stroke him with a featherlike touch. Nothing intense enough to get him off. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to say ‘please’ when asking for something?” You give him a pointed squeeze, thumb stroking the underside of his swollen head. 

He curses, pelvis thrusting up into your fist to try and chase the pleasure you’re withholding from him, “Fuck, if you’re going to act like a brat, I’m going to treat you like one.”

“I just want to hear the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ Please. See how easy that is?”

“Y/N, my heart,” Sylus purrs lowly, eyes glinting dangerously, “I won’t tolerate any more disobedience.”

“Well then you don’t get what you want.” As soon as the words left your mouth you knew you’d regret them. 

Before you can even blink, you find yourself pressed firmly into the mattress, your head hanging off the side, hair dangling freely. The air feels strangely brisk, and you can vaguely feel your nipples hardening. It’s then you realize you’re naked. But you hadn’t felt Sylus lay a single finger on you.

His Evol.

You’d become so accustomed to Sylus’s Evol that you no longer felt its slightly suffocating  invisible web when it touched you, unlike when you’d first met him in the N109 zone. The countless times he’d use his Evol to guide your lips to his, your hand into his larger ones, or to undress you, had actually made you quite fond of the touch of his Evol. 

Little did you know that Sylus had actually been practicing lightening up the intensity of it, for you. He’d always detested seeing the uncomfortable scrunch of your eyebrows, the hostile goosebumps that would raise where his Evol touched you. So he’d absolved himself to train the claws of his Evol to soften, instead becoming that of a gentle caress. Only for you, of course. For everyone else, they got the skin-shredding talons that parents warned about in cautionary tales to their children. 

Hanging upside down, the glint of the ceiling light against the silver cuffs hanging off your headboard catches your eye, snapping you from your thoughts. The metal loops were still completely intact, but unlocked. Of course you knew he’d use his Evol to escape eventually, but it still surprised you how he managed to do it so effortlessly. Graceful in everything he did. 

You try to sit up, but Sylus’s hand wraps itself softly around your throat and holds you back down. He tsks scornfully, a playful warning in the swirling glowing cerise of his eyes. His grip is gentle enough where you can still speak normally. Rough enough where you want more.

So you pout childishly, “It’s just like you to use your Evol for such cheap tricks.” 

From beneath his towering frame, you can just barely see him raise his perfectly arched eyebrow. Most of him is obstructed by his massive erection pressed at your nose, menacingly imposing before you. “Cheap? Doll, there’s nothing cheap about me. And nothing cheap about the things I’m going to do to you.”

You shiver involuntarily at his threats, your thighs clenching together in anticipation. Sylus’s words were always harsh, but when it came to you there was always such a profound sincerity and gentleness behind his actions, even when he was brutally devouring your body. So the danger edged into his words only served to excite you, fueling the dampness that had formed between your legs. 

And of course, his perfect cock dangling in front of your lips, still glistening with a sheen of his arousal and your saliva. Hanging so closely to your waiting tongue, but never touching. That definitely did not help the throbbing ache in between your thighs. 

“I think you’ve had enough fun, don’t you agree?”

Feeling daringly bold, you playfully curse him, “Screw y–” But before you can finish getting the words out, Sylus grips your jaw, shoving himself into your waiting mouth. The force he uses is enough to make your eyes roll back, the feeling of being full of him making you forget what you’d wanted to say to begin with. You’re careful to pull back your teeth as he finds his way to one of his favorite places, the back of your throat. 

“Let’s give that mouth something to do, other than run itself, hmm?”

You groan in response, letting the vibrations of your throat speak for you. Sylus grunts, removing his hand from your throat and weaving it into your hair like he’d wanted to earlier. His grip is strong, just hard enough that you feel an immense pleasure from the stinging pull. With a firm hand on your scalp, he fucks into your face, his meticulously groomed hair brushing against your nose at every thrust. 

His speed and vigor is relentless, not that you’d complain even if you could. The feeling of Sylus driving in and out of your throat, like you were a fleshlight, had your body vibrating with need, clit throbbing in ecstasy. How you could feel this good just sucking his cock was beyond you. Your unrestrained moans were an absolute orchestra to his ears, the vibrations running through every nerve ending in his erection, causing him to release a string of his own sounds 

“You’re so – hah – exquisite like this, dove. Choking on my cock instead of your words.”

You whine at him, so unbelievably turned on by the filthy way he speaks to you. His skin slaps against your wet mouth, and an obscene amount of drool mixed with precum drips off your cheeks and onto the carpeted floor beneath you. You loll your tongue out to try and catch his copious dribbles of precum, not wanting to waste any part of him. 

“I can see my cock in your throat, sweetheart,” he cooed, using a hand to brush against your throat, where his erection bulges against your neck each time he fucks into you. 

Tears streamed from your eyes as Sylus’s pace increased, gripping onto your hair for even more leverage against your beautiful face. 

“Crying already? Not feeling so bold anymore, my love?” 

You ignore his patronizing words, trying to focus instead on your own pleasure. With one hand still gripping the hard muscles of his bubbly rear, your other hand wanders to the quivering area between your thighs, fiddling with the bundle of nerves that was slick with your arousal. You desperately seek to relieve some of the tension building up in your gut, all from just Sylus’s cock in your mouth.

But before you can give yourself any inkling of pleasure, you feel a familiar force of energy pulling your hand away. 

“I don’t recall giving you permission to touch yourself.”

You nearly sob at his words. You want to speak, plead with him to touch you, or at least let you touch yourself, pride be damned. But his unbelievable girth makes it impossible to do anything but devour him repeatedly.

The white haired man above you watches you carefully, swearing at how your tear soaked face makes his resolve to punish you crumble ever so slightly. Taking pity on you, he brings your hand to his, weaving his long fingers into yours. You hold his hand tightly, enjoying the way his much larger hand clasps into yours, fingers digging into your sensitive flesh.

“Good girl,” he coos in praise, voice tinged with a condescension that makes your skin crawl in excitement, “You don’t touch what’s mine, unless I say, hm?”

You look up at him with wide wet eyes, nodding obediently as he continues to ravage your face. He pressed your hand deeper into the mattress, his thrusts becoming so intense that you knew you’d have a hard time speaking tomorrow, your throat battered and bruised. 

From your position, you don’t see the glowing light that emanates from your joined fingers. But Sylus does, and he watches in a concealed wonder at the way you can so easily resonate with him now. You didn’t even need to try, a single touch was all it took. It was a testament to how much you’d grown to trust him. 

No, it was a testament to the deep love and respect you’d both come to hold for each other. You’d both definitely come a long way from when he’d captured, or when you let him capture, you at the N109 zone all that time ago. The thought of that threatens to make Sylus shiver as he continues to ram himself deep into your warm wet throat. He watched the way you took him so eagerly, hand gripping his for dear life, your other hand coming up to stroke his heavyset balls as they slapped against your face. The way your poor little throat bulged every time he thrusted into it, the bump so visible to his hungry crimson eyes.

Oh, how you ruined him. He’d fucking marry you.

Your jaw ached, having been open as widely as possible for far too long now, but you did your best to continue to take him. The feeling of him using your mouth was more than enough to keep you growing wetter, needing more. Your thighs squeezed together, as you rocked into nothing, wanting nothing more than to feel any friction between your legs.

Sylus watched as you pathetically tried to find pleasure in the empty air, nearly growling at how arousing the sight was. He was fueled with such an intense desire and love for you, nothing like he’d ever felt before. And that love and desire was enough for him to concede, if even just a little bit, for you.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling…charitable today, my dove,” he murmurs, releasing your hair and bending over your body. His erection never leaves your mouth, but he hovers so that your sight is filled with the view of his solid abdominal muscles. You cry out against his member when the familiar feel of his fingers finds your clit. You gasp out, choking on him, your hips jolting up eagerly to meet his torrid touch.

Sylus chuckles, a satisfied smirk making its way onto his unfairly gorgeous face, “Look at how eager you are…all this just from the taste of cock?”

Not able to respond, you hump up into his hand, squeezing your eyes shut in embarrassment of how desperate you were for him. Sylus only gives you a pointed thrust into your throat, making you gag deliciously around him again.

“Such an insatiable little bird,” he murmured, fingers expertly toying with you.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” his skilled ministrations never stopping, “I wish you could see how lovely you look with your mouth full.” 

Your eyes rolled back when he entered you, one finger at a time. He cursed at how tightly you gripped just one of his fingers. He had half a mind to just bury himself into your perfect cunt right then and there. And that’s just what he’d do. He was never used to not indulging in what he wanted, why stop now?

You felt the familiar shift in energy, a gentle hold on your body, until you found yourself laying on the middle of your bed, Sylus situated between your knees, fingers still toying with you. Your neck screaming in relief at the plush surface, mind reeling from the sudden shift. 

The white haired man bends to hover over you, free hand caressing your jaw, his frighteningly beautiful face before yours, “Hello, my love.”

Your voice is hoarse, sounding unfamiliar, “Hi.” It’s nothing more than a pitiful squeak.

Sylus chuckles, his chest rumbling warmly at your adorably vulnerable state, “How’s your throat?”

You glare at him, trying to steady your raspy voice, “Don’t patronize me.”

He smirks, not the least bit apologetic, but says, “Forgive me, love.” He doesn’t give you a chance to sass him further, instead bringing your chin up to his. His lips slot onto yours, deceptively slow at first and quickly progressing to a vigor that matched the way he’d rammed himself into your throat. 

The bruising intensity of the kiss made your mind muddle, your hands coming up to grasp his neck to ground you. You gasped at the feeling of his heartbeat pounding so forcefully in his neck. The familiar feeling of an earth shattering orgasm edges into your numbed mind, every heightened sense filled with Sylus and only Sylus.

You finally break away, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him scissoring in and out of you, enough to have you on the brink of climaxing, “Sy-Sylus, I’m–”

Sylus reads you like the back of his hand, withdrawing his fingers and roughly grabbing your face to look up at him. You sob at the loss of friction, looking up at him with teary questioning eyes. 

The ceiling lights illuminate behind Sylus, forming a halo like ring atop his head. He was so hauntingly and terrifyingly beautiful. Not unlike that of a fallen angel, whose sole purpose was to ruin you. 

And just as you’re admiring him, Sylus looks down at you. Unbeknownst to you, he also considers you to be his very own angel sent from the heavens. Bringing light and salvation to the shadowed crevices of his soul.

But even then, he can’t help but tease you, the urge to see you ruined at his hand. An angel with tattered wings, so utterly spent with lust. “You don’t cum until I say, hm?” As if to punctuate his point, he puts his fingers, wet with your slick, in between your parted lips. The taste of you is strong on him, enough to distract you from Sylus, who’s lining up his more massive than ever erection with your weeping slit. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Suck. I know you can do better than that.”  

He presses his fingers harder onto your tongue, relishing in how warm you feel around him. At your adorable pouty glare, he pushes his leaking tip into you.

You yelp in surprise, biting down on his fingers in your mouth. Sylus hisses, but the pain only further arouses him, making him shove into you suddenly. Your hands come up to grasp his forearm, the veins bulging under your touch. 

The feeling of him entering you is so overwhelming, the only thing grounding you to the present was the way his fingers felt and tasted against your tongue. And so you devoured him in earnest, much to his satisfaction. 

It’s not long before he bottoms out, his head kisses your cervix, just enough to have your eyes rolling back, sparks of hot white pleasure clouding your vision. 

Sylus removes his fingers from your mouth, bringing his thumb to his own lips and brushing it across his parted mouth, his other fingers outstretched as he licks across his thick thumb. You whimper at the sight, so unbelievably seductive he has to be doing it on purpose. 

“You always taste divine.” His movements have all but halted completely, his thick girth just sitting inside of you, brushing against your womb. And even though the stretch is enough to practically compress your lungs, you want more. 

“D-Don’t tease Sylus,” you whine pathetically, “Fuck me.” 

The smile on his face is as cocky as ever, the corner of his lips curving up, as sharp as his edged jaw. 

“So bold. Do you really think you’re in any position to make demands?”

He gives you just one pointed thrust, cockhead nestling so deliciously into your sweetest spots, but stopping just at that. You cry out, fingers gripping the comforter so tightly your knuckles turn white. 

“If I recall correctly…someone once told me something about saying…what was it? ‘Please’ and ‘thank you’?”

He grins down at you, bending forward so that he hovers right over your face. He would never let you know but the pouty grimace on your lust glowing face was nearly enough to have him caving into your every whim, punishment forgotten in the wind. 

“Hm? So what do we say, sweetheart?”

With his cock situated so perfectly in you, it’s impossible for you to do anything but follow his every command, no matter how much it bruises your ego.

“P-Please?”

His smirk deepens, fingers cupping your chin up to face him, “You can do better than that, Y/N.”

You groan as he shifts, giving you just the tiniest bit of friction where it mattered. You do your best to find the confidence, “Please Sylus.”

There’s the faintest flicker of darkness in his eyes, a twitch of unraveling at the way you effortlessly purr his name. If you had any idea the things you did to him, the mighty and fearless leader of the Onychinus, it would be his absolute undoing. 

“Please what, my dove? Come on, use that beautiful voice of yours.”

Before you can let out your snarky response, his fingers travel to your neck, stroking your sensitive pulse gently before pressing down to compress your airway. 

“Or is this throat only good for taking my cock?”

You whine at his words, patience absolutely gone. You wrap your legs around his waist and force him closer. A pathetic attempt to get him to thrust into you. Your hands come up to the back of his neck, and your tear glistening eyes search his pleadingly. He’s taken aback by the sudden shift, a small gasp escaping his parted lips. In his surprise, he lets himself be guided to you, his forehead falling to lay atop yours, his breath fanning against your own. 

“Please Sylus, please fuck me. I’m sorry, I’ll be a good girl. Please.”

The curse that leaves Sylus’s voice is barely perceptible as he drinks you in. Your cheeks were still streaked with tears, your eyes wide and glassy. Your lips were puffy from his bruising kisses, and cheeks heated with desire. There was absolutely nothing in the universe that could match how utterly gorgeous you were. His gorgeous woman. His to ruin. 

His voice low with longing and hunger, “Fuck, okay love. I’ll give you what you want.”

He manipulates the energy around you, raising your arm above your hand. His slender fingers dance up your exposed skin, until they find your fingers. His nails graze your inflamed skin, fingers toying with yours. For a brief moment, he enjoys how much smaller your hand feels in his. His delicate little bird.

“Hold on tight.”

Your fingers grip his, your nails digging in when he finally pulls his cock out, leaving only his head still snuggly inside. Without giving you a second to breathe, he’s plummeting himself back into your sopping cunt. Your combined slick ensures there’s zero resistance, only the sounds of wet slaps filling the space between you. 

Sylus’s forehead still rests against yours, his free arm bent above your head, helping support him as he fucks you with a painfully delicious intensity. Your cunt milks him perfectly, the warmth far too inviting and the tightness much too constricting. His fingers grip yours forcefully, trying to offset the way your pussy tries to suck the living soul out of him. 

“Sy-Sylus,” you cry out, nails digging crescents into his skin, your other hand coming up to rake red scratches into his back, “Slow – ngh – slow down!” Your brain is a jumbled mess, confused at the words your tongue lets out when your body only wants more.

Sylus’s chuckle is low and almost sinister, his pace never relenting, “That’s funny. I recall you saying you’d be a good girl.” He shifts his weight to his knees, moving his palm to your naval, pressing down. You squeal at the feeling of his palm pressing into your stomach, your sensitive walls being compressed into his cock spearing in and out of you. 

“And good girls take what they’re given, hm?”  

Moans and whimpers are the only thing you’re capable of producing, his pace brutal, like he was trying to find his way into your throat from your cunt. You don’t notice his hand traveling further south until his thumb presses into your swollen clit, flicking hard. You screech, your back arching off the bed, giving him further access to your dripping cunt. 

“Answer me when I speak to you, sweetheart.” 

“Yes! Yes, I’m a good girl, I can take it!” you all but screamed, spine so arched you felt like you were levitating.

The erotic cries that leave your lips make it difficult for Sylus to think straight, so he doesn’t. He fucks you with a ferocity that was nothing short of animalistic, the only thing he can think of is how many different ways he can and will make you cum. 

He presses your joined palms deeper into the mattress, eyes searching yours desperately. For what, you were unsure. But as his scarlet irises bore into yours, you felt an overwhelming sense of emotion catch in your throat.

Propping yourself slightly on your elbows, you pressed your forehead to Sylus’s, his sweat dampened bangs fluttering against your eyelashes.You reach up to cup the back of his head, pulling him towards you. His right hand never leaves your clit, his left staying tightly clasped with yours.

He takes the opportunity to press his lips to yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You moan into him as he claims you fully, thrusts moving in tandem with his tongue. It’s a torrid clash of tongue and teeth, enough passion to have the Aether core in your heart throbbing dangerously erratically. 

“Syluuus,” you slur as you pull away to breathe, “I-I’m..I’m gon–” You can’t get the words out, the tip of his cock against your cervix and fingers on your clit bringing you into another dimension, one filled with him. The scent, the sound, the feel, the sight of him. 

“I know. Getting so goddamn tight,” he grits out, jaw locking as he tries to steady himself against your vice grip. Sylus was a man of boundless stamina and restraint, but when it came to you… When it came to the absolute heaven that was your body, he could hold nothing back. 

Just as you neared your orgasm, Sylus stops again. You find your body being moved again, but this time Sylus’s hands are lifting you, and not his Evol. His strong arms lift you so that you’re sitting on his lap, your back pressed against his muscled chest, and his back leaned up against the bed.

He does however use his Evol to drag over the gold arched full-length mirror you had propped up against the corner of your bedroom, so that it sits right in front of the bed. Your vision is filled with the gleaming reflection of you, naked on Sylus’s lap, his arrogant smirk right by the top of your head. His muscular arms are draped over your thighs, spreading open your glistening folds, fully exposing you before the mirror. 

“Sylus s-stop. It’s embarrassing,” you whine, averting your gaze at the lewd sight, and the even filthier sounds of his fingers against your copious slick. But he grips your jaw firmly, turning you back to the mirror. 

“Look how beautiful you are,” he murmurs, lips pressed against your ear, “Look.” 

You puff your cheeks, fighting against his fingers.

“Look, love. Or you don’t get to cum,” he purrs in your ear.

You mutter sulkily, knowing full well his threats are anything but empty, “You’re evil.” 

But you obey diligently, letting his fingers guide your face forward. The sight before you is so unbelievably filthy, Sylus’s long fingers digging into your thighs to keep them spread open, his other fingers playing with your swollen lips. Even on his lap, he was a head taller than you, His soft white hair is matted with sweat, his cheeks dusted a peachy red with how vigorously he’d just been fucking you.

As your eyes meet in the mirror, Sylus lifts you from underneath your thighs, and spears you onto his cock. You cry out at the feeling of being stretched open again, Sylus’s own ecstasy fueled grunts in your ear.

With you atop him, his cock reaches so unbelievably deep inside you that you feel the tears returning. Your eyes screw shut as his tip repeatedly brushes against your cervix, the familiar pain quickly dulling into an intense pleasure. 

Suddenly you feel Sylus’s teeth at the crook of your neck, and arm coming across your chest to enclose over your entire throat. His sharp canines dig into the area where your neck meets your shoulder, biting just hard enough to make your eyes fly open to face his in the mirror. His eyebrows are quirked at you, amusement evident in his sharp ruby eyes.

He doesn’t speak, instead keeping his mouth attached to your pulse point. But the dark sultry heat swirling in his eyes that you can see reflected in the mirror is a clear and wordless command. 

Watch.

And who were you to disobey him, when his body brought this much pleasure to your own. 

So with your eyes locked on his in the mirror, Sylus begins to bounce you in earnest on his lap. And while you moan and whimper as he springs you so effortlessly on his cock, like you weighed nothing more than a mere toy, his own noises are muffled by his teeth that are sunk into your fluttering neck. 

His eyes never leave yours in the mirror, darkened underneath his eyebrows, glowing with red hot lust. The way he watches you is so intimately primal, like a predator toying with its prey before the kill. 

With his hungry gaze locking yours in place and the lewd wet sounds of slick skin pounding against one another, you feel the alarmingly rapid tightening of your abdomen that signals your orgasm. Sylus feels it too, your walls tightening so intensely that the outline of his veins might imprint into you. Your grip coaxes his own cock toward release, his jaw tightening as to keep himself in check. 

He releases your bruised skin, admiring how breathtaking you look with his marks on you. His hand leaves your clit to rest on your tummy, stroking the skin there. You can feel him use his Evol to keep you in place, only the raw strength of his thighs and abs keeping you in steady motion on his length. 

“Look,” he croons in your ear, teeth grazing against your sensitive earlobes, “Can you see where I am, dove? I’m allll the way here ” His husky voice drawls, hand on your abdomen pressing down. You can definitely see the distinct outline of something large thrusting in and out of you. Your eyes widen at the mirror, mesmerized at how your bodies connect, almost resonating on their own. Sylus’s eyes are also glued to the way the base of his cock, shiny with a ring of arousal, forces your tiny fluttering cunt to take him in all his glory.  

“Tell me how it feels, hm? Tell me how I make you feel.” When you don’t respond, too lost in the sight in the mirror, his fingers come back down to squeeze your clit,

“Sylus! – ngh – feels ssoo so good,” you simper, panting through the hold he still has on your throat, the pressure quickly becoming far too addicting, “I-I…”

“Hah,” he groans into your ear, “You what baby? Tell me.”

“M’gunna cuuum,” you wail as his angle shifts just slightly, cock driving into your g spot. Sylus knows just how to play with you, his fingers sending you to heaven and back repeatedly. He was so thick that you felt like he'd split you in two, your cunt and thighs being stretched to their limits against the sloppy friction.

“Hmmm, is my beautiful girl going to make a mess on me? Does she deserve to?”

The mere thought that he might deny your climax again has you sobbing, tears of anguished ecstasy rolling down your face as his pace picks up even further.

“P-Pleaaase – unghh – please let me. I’m a g-good girl, I’ll be so – hnngh – good, I promise.”

Sylus had no intention of denying you again, but now he physically couldn’t. Because now, watching the fat tears roll down your cheek and hearing your beautiful pleas, he too could feel himself pulse with the ache to fill you up. As he watched your breathtaking form in the mirror, he cursed the Gods for sending the only thing that could ruin him. 

You.

And yet, being ruined by you felt so damn good.

“Good for who, my love?”

Your vision has become clouded by your tears and the black spots that blot your eyesight. But the possessive purr in Sylus’s voice reaches you, through all the blinding pleasure, and makes butterflies flutter in your chest.

Your hands come up behind you to grasp behind his neck, and you strain yourself so that you turn just slightly to face him. For a second Sylus looks taken aback, but he quickly composes himself, the confident smile returning to his lips. 

“Nggghh – for you, Sylus.” The sincerity of your shaking voice wipes the cocky smirk off his face, his thrusts faltering ever so slightly. For a brief second, Sylus can’t feel anything. He can’t feel the way your cunt, on the precipice of release, squeezes so forcefully that it threatens to break him in half, the way your soaking thighs ripple against his lap as he pounds into you, the way your fingers play with the hair at the back of his head.

Fate had played a cruel trick on the two of you. Two tragically entwined Aether cores. Two birds of a feather, trapped in the cage destiny had built. 

But now, there is only you and him. Fate and destiny be damned. 

“I’m yours Sylus. Always yours.”

Your words, delicate and simpering, pull him back to reality. All the sensations he’d briefly been numbed to came crashing back. The torturously delicious way you felt around him, atop him, and against him swarmed back all at once. And to top it all off, the sight of your fluttery wide wet eyes, hazed over with a fog of lust, staring at him with such wonder and adoration. Your eyes alone were practically making love to him.

It made him absolutely feral.

You squeal, thighs doing their best to grip against Sylus’s lap as he bounces you with an unprecedented vigor, his hand holding your throat to keep you somewhat steady. You watch his muscles bulge, his much larger frame very much on display behind you. Powerful and imposing – a true god-like glory. 

“That’s fucking right, you’re mine,” he hisses in your ear, jaws clenched to hold back the moans your pussy threaten to pull from his body. 

“Gonna cum in you, yeah? Would my slutty girl like that?"

“Y-Yes!” you squeal, so close to coming undone, “Pleeease Sylus!  I-I’m s’close, I’ll do anything please!” You were quickly losing your voice amidst all the screaming and vigorous activities.

You can see Sylus devilish smile, releasing your throat to tilt your chin towards him.

“Anything? You’re making a deal with the devil, little dove.”

With your face so dangerously close to his, he can’t resist. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, his lips crashing onto yours, locked in the sweltering passion of your bodies. The feel of his tongue claiming every inch of your mouth is just enough to send you headfirst into the orgasm you’d been on the brink of for so long.

And because of that, your body couldn’t hold back the gush of excitement that squirted from where Sylus was connected to you. It’s so messy you can’t help the way your cheeks burn in embarrassment, even amidst the short circuiting of your pleasure-numbed brain. 

“Jesus fucking christ,” Sylus bites out, the tautening of your orgasm stricken cunt nearly squeezing him into unconsciousness. He fucks you through your blissed out state, and it isn’t long before he follows your lead. 

Like everything Sylus does, the way he cums is frighteningly powerful. Your body involuntarily shivers at how hot he is, but more so just how much there is. You can both clearly see the thick milky white seed seeping down Sylus’s cock, even as he continues to fuck into you. His thrusts are slower now, but more intentional. Conveying every ounce of passion into the way he rocks into you. Overstimulation quickly grips you, and you weakly tap at his thighs.

“Sylus, no-no more. S’too much.”

“M’not done,” he groans into your ear as he continues to thrust into you, and it’s then you feel his cock still shooting ropes of his hot spend inside you. He does, however, release your clit, shoving his fingers in your mouth, knowing it'll give you something to ground yourself amidst the sensitivity while he rides out the waves of his climax. 

You gladly accept his fingers, grasping his forearm and sucking like his arm was a dessert. The taste of your mixed slick helps distract you from the intense aftershocks that wrack your body. It’s all enough to have Sylus spurting out everything he has, drained completely empty, milked utterly dry. 

When you feel him finally still, you crack your eyes open, almost scared to see the aftermath. 

The waning sun bounced beams of golden sunlight off your sweat, tears, and cum slicked bodies. Your own body was also littered in pretty little bruises, in the shape of Sylus’s teeth and fingers. Bruises in places you hadn’t even felt Sylus sink his teeth into. They quite literally looked like swirls of paint against a blank canvas. 

Your hair was a mess, and your tear stained face was no better. The area between your thighs was red and puffy, leaking an obscene amount of white cream, all the while still stuffed to the brim with Sylus’s softening member. Even half hard, he stretched you absolutely full. 

On the other hand, the man in question looked absolutely ethereal as he loomed above you in the mirror. His hair sat lusciously soft, gently blowing with the breeze entering through the cracked window. His muscles still flexed gently as they recovered from the vigorous activities, strong chest rising and falling rhythmically with his steadying heartbeat. 

And finally his eyes that watch you back so carefully, the carmine orbs half lidded with satisfied bliss. His lips stretch into that signature Sylus smirk when he catches you staring, nothing short of heart stoppingly arrogant.

He’s so unbelievably handsome, your cunt quivering again just at the sight of him. Wincing at the feeling of his cock inside you stirring back to life at your involuntary throbbing, you panic and tap furiously on his thigh. 

“Sylus, put me down.” 

Sylus chuckles, mischief coloring his scarlet eyes, “What, no ‘please’?”

You whine, not able to withstand the feeling of him stirring back to life in your absolutely spent core. Yet you can feel yourself fluttering in anticipation. And you know he can feel it too. 

You silently curse your traitorous body.

“Please.”

He laughs warmly and obliges. His strong hands grip the underside of your thighs, lifting you off of him. You cry out at the feeling, your cunt clenching at nothing, seeking him once more. Sylus inhales sharply, craving your tight warmth again. But he holds you gently against his chest, shifting so that his erection rests between his abdomen and your thigh, with you sitting sideways on his lap. 

You nuzzle your head into his chest, and Sylus’s lips come down to the top of your head, breathing in your scent and ghosting kisses into your hair. Your hands reach up to weave into his silver tresses, playing with his soft locks and delicately massaging his scalp. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, voice muffled against his skin.

When Sylus doesn’t respond, you pull away from him and look up at him expectantly. He appears to be lost in the feeling of your fingers. 

“You never said please, you could at least say thank you,” you tease, poking his soft cheek with your finger. 

Sylus looks down at you, amused danger flickering in the deep orbs of crimson. His hand leaves your thigh, slowly and tortuously crawling up your skin until he cups your face. You shiver, suddenly feel like you’re staring into the face of danger. 

“Hmm, isn’t it customary to say thank you after eating?” 

You crinkle your brows in confusion at his cryptic words, waiting for him to elaborate further. Sylus’s smug grin widens, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, basking in the excited fear brimming in your bleary eyes. 

“I’ve yet to finish my meal, little dove.” 

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