#sylus beyond cloudfall | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aeyumicore · 5 months ago

Text

wasteland

decades after the destruction of judgement day, you return to the abyss meadow—now an empty wasteland. a painful walk down memory lane has you remembering all the sinful things sylus did to you on the day he’d brought you to the blooming field of blood-red datura.

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

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings/angst, angst with slight/no comfort (depends how you want to look at it), fluff, continuation of myths

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 15.9k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, dragon!sylus, two dicks!sylus, dom!sylus, monsterfucking, HEAVY SPOILERS and references to sylus’s lore/myths (beyond cloudfall), themes of depression/trauma/loss of a loved one, marking (scratching and biting) and possessive behavior, implied virginity loss (both mc and sylus), slight BARELY coercion (trust me mc is more than willing), p in v, fingering with claws, eating out, face riding, horns as handlebars, belly bulge, belly swelling from cum, double penetration (in v), slight bondage with sylus’s tail, no protection, breeding kink, talks of mating and pregnancy, multiple orgasms, somewhat angst no comfort (depends how you look at it), has some comfort, some fluff, lots and lots of smut, knotting, fucking with knot, lots of overstimulation, boobie play, lots of making out, lots of biting, use of Y/N, use of petnames (sweetheart, little dragon, dove, sparrow, love, sorceress), slight references to ‘please & thank you’ fic (easter egg dialogue hehe), will add more warnings as needed

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: wasteland song - has arcane spoilers (please listen to before reading) | wasteland song - no arcane spoilers | beyond cloudfall myths | ao3

━ ✧.˖ A/N: helloooooo she is finally here jfc. first and foremost PLEASE listen to the song linked above before reading as it was a HEAVY inspiration for the angst portion of the fic, as well as parts of the fluff. of course it’ll still make sense without watching and listening but i think it’s much more impactful with, otherwise the lyrics are whatever haha.

the song is wasteland - royal & the serpent from the netflix series arcane by riot games! highly recommend watching if you haven’t :)

secondly, this fic contains HEAVY HEAVY spoilers and references to ‘beyond cloudfall’ - sylus’s second myth set, which i’ve also linked above. if you haven’t done those and care about spoilers, i would not recommend reading this. also it won’t make as much sense if you don’t know what happened in those myths, but the smut still makes sense re: sylus is a dragon.

please enjoy <3 i will admit this was really difficult for me to finish, i don’t know what it was, i lost steam half way through and really had to force myself. i am not 100% happy with the way it turned out, but i also did really enjoy writing it! i think i cried multiple times writing this lmao

will likely be on a writing hiatus. if i do write it will be for caleb :D until next time friends. i love you <3

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 ˖

♫ I've held on for as long as I can, For the ones that I had to defend, I've been strong every day of my life, If she wants, death could take me this time. ♪

♪ This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow, I used to have strength, but I ran out of hope, I know it's my fault that I'm here all alone, This world is a wasteland, Please let me go, go, go, go, go, go, go. ♫

♫ If I could just lay my head down and rest, If there was nothing to fight or protect, Maybe then I could finally be free, Maybe death is like falling asleep. ♪

Hollow requiems echo in the recesses of your numbed soul, overtaken by the howling of the violent wind. Your heels crunch against barren ground, covered in fragments of basalt and granite, a speckled sea of death.

It was hard to imagine that this very valley was once covered in countless blossoming blood-red datura, peppered across the vast green fields of the meadow. Like the twinkling stars in the open night sky you’d spent many hours staring up at, atop the cliff top lair you briefly called home, years ago.

The memory of the blooming flowers, nestled against the stark contrast of those powerful ebony horns, the faint notes of requiems once sung under the gleaming moonlight, taunt you as they resonate in your aching mind. Your tail flickers, soul clenching in distaste.

Or perhaps it was your fragmented, barely-beating, heart. It was hard to tell these days.

You draw a shaky breath, willing your body to continue forward. It’d been decades since you’d last come here. After the events of the last Doomsday, events that you were all too familiar with, Philos had fallen to chaos and ruin. Tarus City was no exception.

And of course, the meadow had not been spared.

Guilt gnaws at you, clawing deeper than any beast ever could. The meadow–the resting place of your beloved. Your dragon.

Sylus.

Of course, it looked a little different now. Nothing like the day he’d pressed his lips to your forehead for the last time, his soul returning to the clouds above.

You stare out into the rolling hills of charred forests, the arid rivers snaking through the canyon like a dragon’s spine. Flecks of ember from the destruction of Doomsday still flit against the winds around you like dancing midnight petals. But there’s no flowers in sight. Not a single one.

The endless crimson mountain range stretches around you like an aegis, almost as if trying to protect the innocence that was once kept hidden here. A lifetime ago.

What a joke.

Everything you had ever held dear, ripped from your hands. Flaunted before you, reminding you of how helpless you’d been to fate’s cruel whims.

♪ This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow. ♫

“What I desire is to live freely and die without regrets.” You’d said that, once upon a time.

Did you?

If you died tomorrow, could you say you had no regrets?

Your fists clench at your sides, your claws digging into your palms, sure to break skin and draw blood. You knew the answer to that.

You’d devoted your life to filling countless troves with what treasures remained on the empty husk of Philos and enacting revenge on the members of the Sanctuary and Legion that’d survived Doomsday. Revenge and plunder, just like old times.

The day those horns had dawned from your head, your tail descending from your spine, you’d become one with Sylus. He gave you power; he gave you freedom.

So why now, when you’d accomplished everything you’d always wanted, did your life feel anything but free?

Everything you thought you’d wanted.

So what did you want now?

“You know, Tarus City can have flowers that bloom everywhere, as far as the eye can see.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the sound of his voice in your mind is as clear as the first time you’d heard it in the obsidian chapel. The same moonlit chapel in which you’d promised your souls to one another.

Lead weighs on your chest as you gaze out at the desolate fields, once a spiritual sanctuary for Sylus and you. Could it ever return to the way it was? Could flowers really bloom here again?

You’d give anything to see just one of those ruby moonflowers again, petals the same shade of scarlet as the eyes you’d dreamt of, time and again.

But like those beautiful eyes, you knew deep down. You’d never see those daturas again.

♫ I used to have strеngth, but I ran out of hope. ♪

You resolve yourself to go numb, as you had countless nights before, when dreams alluded you and nightmares sought you. Your body moves mindlessly on its own, your eyes glazed as you watch the cloudless sky above.

Would Sylus be disappointed if he saw you now? An empty shell of the sorceress that’d unsealed him from the Abyss and freed him in more ways than one.

Once upon a time, you could put on a brave mask in the face of losing your dragon.

But over time, the memory of his body, heavy and whole, fading in your arms, the petals of his soul slipping through your trembling fingers, etched itself into your soul. No matter how hard you tried to forget, you’d always remember. And because of that, your courage quickly turned into a searing rage that consumed every fiber of your being.

What would he think?

Well, you’ll never know will you? The voice in your head taunts, unmistakably yours, yet foreign and faraway.

Since you’re the one who plunged that sword into his heart.

♪ I know it’s my fault that I’m here all alone. ♫

Eventually, you find yourself atop a small clearing overlooking the entire valley. An eerie sense of familiarity grapples at you as you stare out into the horizon, feeling nearly as empty as the land before you.

You’re not sure when it started to happen. The days started to feel longer. You could no longer hear the melody in songs, see the beauty in patterns, taste the flavors in fruits you once loved.

All things unnecessary to a dragon’s survival.

Were you surviving? Your heart was beating, blood coursed through your veins, air traveled through your lungs, and yet…

You didn’t feel alive.

♫ This world is a wasteland. ♪

The wind howls on, the swirling ash making your eyes prickle. You turn on your heel to leave. There’s nothing left for you here. Nothing but fragments of the life you could’ve had, with Sylus.

But as the sun melts into the sky, descending into the crimson expanse of mountains, your soul is hit with memories so clear you double over, clutching your shoulder as it throbs.

“Only you and this flower…can touch me here.”

You stifle a sob, your other hand coming up to cover your mouth as you stare out into the bittersweet dusk. The way the waning light descends the scarlet contours, perfectly framing the once picturesque grove. And then it hits you, all at once like a wave crashing against you, pulling you under, until you can’t breathe.

This is the exact spot Sylus had taken you to the first time he’d brought you to the Abyss Meadow. After the night you’d promised your souls to one another.

The exact spot he’d let you weave those same delicate daturas into his horns, grimacing adorably the entire time as you did so. Where you rolled around the meadow grasses in his willful arms, revenge and the Sanctuary a long forgotten thought, just you and your dragon.

The spot he’d kissed you for the very first time. The first of what you’d thought would be a lifetime of kisses shared with him.

Where you’d shared yourselves wholly, bodies and soul, every touch a promise, every kiss a vow.

The mark on your shoulder burns, your vision hazing with tears that you’re not sure you can blame on the ash anymore. Clenching your eyes shut, you blink them away, trying to steel your resolve and push the memories back down, where you’d kept them hidden for decades.

♪ I'm not ready to face it. ♫

But they rattle violently in the cage you’d built for them, your spirit is unrelenting. Or perhaps, it’s the remnants of his own soul etched into yours that refuse to let you fade completely into the darkness.

♫ Don't go saying goodbye. ♪

Eventually the branding waves of agony that radiated from the bite thrum to a pulsing halt, replaced with a heat that was all too familiar. You finally crack open your teary eyes, your vision filled with the breathtaking canvas of sunset.

The colors cast the withered meadow in the same breathtaking glow from that day.

♫ There's a beauty in changes, and I wanna try. ♪

–

Red.

Growing up in the Ivory City, you were surrounded by nothing but the blinding incandescence of white marble that was said to symbolize purity and prosperity. On the other hand, the children of the Sanctuary had been conditioned to associate the color red with Doomsday, the Fiend, and death.

But as the flecks of vermillion heat sparkled in Sylus’s eyes, his sultry gaze flickering to your lips, you knew you’d never known a color so beautiful.

“But only for one person,” he murmurs, claws gently gripping your neck, his other hand stroking the datura he’d placed behind your ear. Sylus takes a second to admire the delicate flower, imagining Tarus City covered in them. And you, among them, serenading those familiar requiems for him.

His hooded eyes meet yours again, and a low growl elicits from his chest as his body is overcome with a burning need to claim you. His beloved.

“Sylus…” you plead breathily, squirming under his gaze and shifting atop him, still straddling him in the field of blooming red moonflowers. Sylus hisses, his slackened jaw twitching and his claws digging into your chin, bringing you closer.

“You had better watch yourself, my little sorceress,” Sylus purrs dangerously, fighting to maintain control, “I should warn you–”

Your heart hammers, pounding audibly in your ears, as Sylus pulls you the rest of the distance in. His bottom lip grazes against yours as his eyes flutter shut, his breath hot and sweet, “I don’t have the patience to wait any longer.”

He wastes no time before furiously crashing his lips to yours, claiming what was his. His claws are deliciously possessive as they trace your racing pulse, savoring the way your body trembles under his touch.

You moan into his open lips when his fingers softly wrap around your neck, the tips of his ebony talons tracing soft patterns into your skin. He smirks against your lips, taking the opportunity to push his hot tongue against yours, tasting every inch of you.

The world around you fades away, your senses filled with only him. You can vaguely feel his tail wrapping around your thigh, the tip stroking the bare skin of your calf as you tightly clutch his hips.

The raw passion of his tongue against yours makes it feel as if he’s nearly breathing fire into your soul, his body growing more demanding as he feels your heat pulse against the growing bulge in his pants. The intoxicating smell of your arousal nearly sends him into a frenzy, and it takes everything within him to not throw you under him right then and there.

When you finally pull away to breathe, you’re a panting blushing mess. Sylus on the other hand only smirks up at you, his frustratingly beautiful face lightly dusted in a peachy sheen. Overcome with the urge to wipe the smug look off his face, you brush your thumb across his kiss-bitten bottom lip, forcefully resituating yourself on his lap. You bite back your grin when he hisses, his claws digging into the fat of your hips.

“What did you mean, when you said ‘you couldn’t wait any longer’?” you tease, fueled with confidence as you watch his vermillion eyes darken, the muscles of his abdomen tensing as your hands trace their way down his body. When your fingers graze the blood-red gem embedded in his chest, Sylus’s hand catches your wrist, his grip firm yet tender.

He brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing your palm into his lips, “Do you really need me to say it?”

You bat your eyelashes innocently at him, pouting, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sylus’s chest rumbles as he chuckles, his eyes gleaming mischievously. His eyes never leave yours, the heated desire in them making the arousal between your legs increase, as he kisses your fingertips one by one.

“Dragons are solitary,” he says, kissing the pad of each finger. His tail uncoils from your thigh, only to loosely wrap around your waist, reminding you of how the mountain cat would twist its tail around your ankle.

“We grow up together, in packs,” his words are melancholic, as if remembering a painful memory, but when his ruby eyes return to yours they shine as bright as the waning sun above you, “But when we reach adulthood, we tend to go off on our own.”

You pondered his words, waiting for him to go on and doing your best to swallow the lump of emotions that’d formed in your throat at the thought of Sylus, alone for centuries. He nips at your fingers, his tongue coming out to lick tenderly at your skin.

The swirling heat in his crimson orbs are shadowed under his thick eyebrows, the very eye you’d been so drawn to boring into your newly intertwined souls.

“Can you recall what that human said that day at the market? The merchant?”

You nod curiously, biting back the shiver as Sylus continues to lick at your skin, daring further and letting his canines graze you, “Yes. That the Fiend would meet his destined archnemesis once more.”

His hands abandon yours, settling instead around your waist. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips as he beckons you down towards him, the corners of his lips quirking upward as he watches you squirm, a faint gasp escaping your parted mouth when his claws inch their way up your exposed back.

“Archnemesis…” he scoffs cryptically, pushing your body down against his chest, wrapping his thick arms around your smaller body, “Such a foolish human concept.”

Sylus shifts so that you’re lying completely on top of him, his tail securing you against his heavy abdomen, the unmistakable outline of something large and terrifying pressed against your core.

“Fate binds souls together–it’s written in the cosmos far above the clouds before the existence of time. Two souls that are a reflection of each other, in enmity and devotion. It’s much more than a mere destined archnemesis. This is the way of the world.”

The weight of his words begins to dawn on you, the meaning of them pressing heavily on your thundering heart. Sylus presses his lips to the mark he’d left on your shoulder in what felt like a lifetime ago.

“Ngh–!” you cry, Sylus’s teeth sinking into you. He bites down, tail constricting around you, wanting to hold you closer–tighter. You squirm against him, fingers pulling at his silver tresses, nearly seeing white as the pleasure and pain simultaneously shoots out from the crook of your neck, ebbing into every nerve of your body.

You can feel Sylus’s smug smile against your throbbing skin, his own hips coming up to grind torturously against you. He’d grown painfully hard, his cock unbearably hard in the restraints of his pants, fighting its way to get to you.

“Dragons live in solitude for the remainder of their lives,” he continues, his lips suddenly at your ear as you’re panting into his hard chest, trying to control your pathetic moans, “But some are fortunate enough to find–what you humans might call–their soulmates.”

Sylus grabs your jaw, forcing you to focus your hazy eyes on his. Though his grip is bruising, his thumb strokes soothing circles into your skin.

“A dragon mates for eternity, in this life and the next. There is only one–if even that.”

“Archnemesis, soulmate, mate. Call it what you will,” he whispers huskily, the desire in his voice palpable as he brings your chin in, his eyes darkening with a mix of lust and adoration. Your chest flutters as you take in the implication of Sylus’s words. The puzzle pieces of your fractured life began to fall into place–the Sanctuary, the weapon inside you, the golden lamp you’d treasured. Everything.

“I have known your soul was destined for mine, long before you pulled that Gods-forsaken sword out of my chest,” Sylus growls, nearly feral as the last of his patience snaps. You dissolve into a fit of squeals as Sylus effortlessly flips you under him, his hands cupping the back of your head and your lower back protectively as your body hits the plush meadow grass.

“And I can’t wait a moment longer.”

He wastes absolutely no time in bringing your lips to his once more, swallowing your moans and replacing them with his own heated breath. Your hands claw at any part of Sylus they can reach, nails leaving behind a red trail of passion that makes him groan with excitement.

Possessed with the need for more, you wrap your thighs around his waist, using your legs to cage him against you. Sylus’s grip in your hair tightens as he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your feverishly panting lips. His other hand comes down to clutch your thigh, his fingers crawling under your dress.

“Y/N. Do you know what you’re doing?” he pants, chest heaving, pupils blown with a lust so dangerous that your instincts are screaming at you to run. You bring your hands up to cup his face, mustering up all your courage.

“Why don’t you enlighten me?” you whisper, your eyes fluttering as you trail your fingers down his chest, resting them right above his belt and letting your fingernails delicately stroke the hair that leads to his pelvis.

A primal snarl erupts from Sylus’s chest at your blatant teasing, and in the blink of an eye you find your wrists bound above your head, his thick tail wrapped around them like a rope, his knee forcing your thighs apart.

“Just so you know, my love,” he leans in, face inches from yours, his arrogant smile hauntingly beautiful and terrifying all at once. He dips into the crook of your neck, heated breath washing over your mark, “Dragons are not known to show mercy.”

“I can handle it, Sylus,” you retort defiantly, though your trembling voice almost betrays you. Sylus only chuckles, his eyes glinting wildly at you, swirling with the darkness of all the things he wants to do to you.

“That’s my girl.”

You’re unable to speak further, crying out when Sylus’s fingers, that’d found their way under the skirt of your dress, demandingly cup your leaking sex, his lips latching onto the burning mark on your shoulder once more.

His tongue on your neck alone is enough to have you writhing under him, begging and pleading for more. The pleasure is so overwhelmingly blinding that your eyes are squeezed shut, body convulsing involuntarily to even his gentlest touches. You’d surmise that it must’ve had something to do with what he’d said about your fate bonded souls, that made your body react so violently to his.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t let you ponder it further, his finger dipping in between your dripping core to snap your attention back to him.

“Are you still with me, sweetheart?” he coos, brushing his middle finger up and down your weeping slit, careful to only brush against you with his calloused skin, keeping his claws tucked away. You glare up at him, weakly slapping his forearm that was wedged between your shaking thighs. You open your mouth to snark at him, but Sylus uses that moment to stroke your clit with the pointed edge of his talon.

“Sylus!” you cry, halfway between a moan and a scream, “Ahhngh–p-please!”

“Mmm? What’s that?” Sylus murmurs, twitching his fingers to ever-so-slightly caress your aching clit with his claws. “Begging for more already?”

Your back lifts off the ground, the feeling of his fingers on your cunt so sharp and dizzying that your mind is caught between wanting to squirm away but needing to chase more. But it seems your body knows exactly what it wants, arching further into his hand, forcing his fingers further into you.

Your hands come up to grasp the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair and gently stroking the base of his jagged ebony horns. Sylus freezes, his jaw tightening, a choked grunt escaping him, despite how badly he tries to hold it back. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Sylus?” you whisper incredulously, your fingers pausing, “Does that hurt?”

Sylus doesn’t answer, his breath coming out in shallow and needy pants, eyes shut as he hovers above you. His fingers have stilled, though still between your folds. Your worry dissipates when your eyes drift down, trailing down his trembling abdomen, all the way to the lump in his lap that ruts desperately against your thigh.

It’s then you realize that your formidable dragon does indeed have a weakness.

How adorable.

So with Sylus’s finger still parting your soaked lips, you use one hand to tenderly grab one of his horns, the other hand coming down to palm his bulge. His reaction makes you bite your lip with satisfaction, as his knees nearly buckle, still hovering above you, and his eyes filling with a volatile hunger.

“You never learn do you?” he bites out, but he doesn’t pull away, his body only leaning further into your touch. His head nuzzles ever so slightly into your fingers that are still intertwined into his hair, stroking his horns.

“I would say I’m faring quite well, wouldn’t you agree?” you croon, emboldened by the way his hips thrust down into your open palm, even if only imperceptibly.

At your adorably bold words, Sylus smirks at you, head cocked in amusement. His red eyes glimmer, a thick cloud of predatory desire swirling in the pools of garnet.

“You shouldn’t taunt a dragon, my love.”

You shriek when Sylus’s finger enters you, claw and all. You’re so wet that the brief sting of his lethal talon only serves to intensify the overwhelming waves of ecstasy he’s so deliberate in giving you. His finger moves so intentionally inside you, careful to only use the tip of his claw in ways that will have you clenching him for more.

Sylus swears under his breath as he watches the way you writhe against the ruby flora, his erection growing unbearably painful and wet within the constraints of his pants.

Dragons may not have the ability to recognize beauty. But as you clung to him, nails digging into his skin, sweet voice only capable of calling out for him, your wide eyes fluttering open and shut in overwhelming ecstasy…

Sylus knew there was nothing more beautiful in this world.

“Sy-Sylus,” you cry, “It’s t-too much. C-can’t–!” The dangerous feeling of his claws inside you is starting to make you delirious, your head dizzy with the need to come undone all over his fingers. The foreign pressure in your abdomen scares you into trying to scamper away from his hand, finger flicking inside your constricting walls

“Hm? Don’t you trust me sweetheart? I know exactly how much my little dragoness can take,” he murmurs gruffly, his thumb pressing harder into you. It seems Sylus knows exactly what he’s doing to you, because his tail wraps firmly around your waist, locking you in place, demanding you receive every bit of him.

“You can take another, hm?” he asks, but his tone all but commands it.

Your eyes widen; honestly you don’t think you can. Just one of his fingers has you feeling like you might pass out from the unfamiliar feelings of pleasure. Just one of his fingers has you feeling so full you might combust.

He’s on his knees between your legs now–the juxtaposition of such a formidable being kneeling before, pleading for your pleasure, makes your body clench with even more anticipation.

“D-don’t know if I ca-aan,” you whimper brokenly, body still pathetically arching into his hands, chasing an ecstasy you don’t even know if you can handle.

Sylus tuts gently, “Tch–you can. I need to stretch you out here before anything else can happen.”

You shiver at his words, trusting the foreboding warning wholeheartedly. Sylus was a dragon, after all, and you had no doubt he would be well-endowed, like everything else about him. Probably much more than your poor human body would be able to take.

And the thought of that alone makes you crave him like nothing before.

So you nod slowly, and Sylus smiles, the pride evident in his eyes.

“Good girl.”

Sylus tips your chin up towards him with the tip of his claw, capturing your lips into a kiss that steals your breath away. At the same time, he slips another finger into you.

He swallows your cries, and your fingers frantically grab hold of the grass around you, tearing and shredding at the green blades. If it weren’t for his tail wrapped around your waist, holding you in place, you’d be thrashing wildly, the ecstasy of his two fingers and claws inside your plush walls nearly unbearable.

Sylus’s nips at your lips, before his tongue replaces them and stakes claim to every inch of your mouth. He groans into you, using his spare hand to palm his painful erection, still restrained in the confines of his pants. When he pulls away, saliva dribbles down your chin, his lips trailing kisses down your jaw and to the shell of your ear.

“So tight around just my fingers,” Sylus seethes hungrily, his hand moving faster now, breath coming out shallow and hot against your ear, “I’m the only one that’s ever been here, hm?”

He curls his fingers inside you, his claws grazing just slightly against the spongy surface of your walls, demanding a verbal response from you. His voice drips with a possessive intensity that makes your entire body throb.

“Of course,” you whine, slightly embarrassed as your body arches up to meet his hand's ministrations, close to coming undone, “Wh-When would I have…at the Sanctuary…?”

A deep and satisfied rumble of satisfaction comes from Sylus’s chest, as he buries his face into your neck, inhaling your scent. Almost like a purr.

“Mine.”

With two of his fingers scissoring in and out of you, stretching you out to your max, you quickly feel like you’re about to absolutely burst, the edges of your vision turning white, stars clouding your sight.

“Ngghnh–Syluus…” you slur, your eyes watering, slightly terrified, “C-can’t anymore. Feels like m’gonna explode–!”

Sylus growls excitedly, fingers moving more insistently, literally trying to pull the orgasm out of you. The sounds of his palm slapping against dripping pussy grow louder and louder, all your senses overwhelmed until you’re on the verge of losing consciousness to it all.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Sylus praises, his canines at your earlobes, his own voice tinged with a primal hunger that’s barely held back by a thin string of restraint, “Cum for me, just like that.”

Though his words are simple, there’s an underlying command that lies just beneath the surface. Sylus would never stoop as low as to beg for anything, dragons were incredibly prideful beings after all, but more than anything he needed to see you cum, right now–for the very first time. Something he’d imagined more times he’d care to admit, on the many late nights you’d shared looking up at the moon after a journey of ravaging and plundering treasures.

So instead of begging, Sylus sinks his teeth into the brand on your shoulder, once again laying his claim on you. Your sweet taste fills his mouth and he can’t stop the muffled moan that escapes him, devouring you to his absolute content, fingers never faltering once.

Your eyes roll into your head at the indescribable sensation of pain and pleasure that surge from your neck, the shockwaves connecting with the same spasms of ecstasy that emanate from his fingers buried in your cunt.

“Sy-Sylus—! Ngh–It’s c-coming!” you can’t stop yourself from screaming unabashedly, though it didn’t matter as Sylus made sure there wouldn’t be anyone for miles and miles, for this very reason.

He doesn’t respond, alternating between biting and licking affectionately–aggressively–at the place he had marked you as his. His tail tightens around you, making you feel so deliciously suffocated, in the best ways. Making it feel like your very life depended on him.

Your next breath of air, your unrelenting pleasure, your soul.

Sylus, Sylus, Sylus.

With a strangled cry of his name, you feel the foreign sensation of a tension cord snapping in your gut, followed by a warm gush of mind numbing euphoria that consumes your entire quivering body.

Sylus swears under his breath, his fingers slowing but not stopping, helping you ride out the lasting waves of your very first orgasm. He releases your tender skin from his teeth, his hot breath blowing against you. His claws capture your chin between them, gently pulling your head back down to meet his eyeline.

“Look at the mess you’ve made, Y/N,” Sylus hums, slipping his fingers out of you and lifting them so you can clearly see the way they’re dripping with something clear and wet. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

“It’s not m’fault,” your voice comes out annoyingly shaky, still recovering from the earth-shattering experience. You swat his hands away weakly, “Stop. S’embarrassing.”

Sylus chuckles, letting you push his hands back towards him. But he tenses suddenly, the thick muscles of his arms locking. The planes of his sharp jaw twinge, his entire body rigid, like he’d just been struck by lightning.

“Sylus?” you whisper, sitting up and cupping his cheek into your palm, “What’s wrong?”

Sylus’s eyes are locked onto his fingers, his nostrils twitching. You’re mortified when Sylus brings his fingers to his face, his movements almost trancelike.

“Don’t do that,” you protest, eyes wide, moving to grab his wrist. But Sylus dodges you easily, swiftly removing his arm from your grasp, the smell of you on his fingers intoxicating him to the point of madness. The sheer primal hunger in his blood-red eyes is so far away, you almost don’t recognize him.

You’re acutely aware that you’re currently no more than a little rabbit trapped in a lion’s den. If it weren’t for the way his tail still wrapped around your waist so tenderly, you’d think he was the same Fiend that nearly lost himself and killed you that day.

Sylus doesn’t speak, his chest heaving erratically as he brings his fingers up to his lips, tongue catching every rivulet of your slick. His pupils dilate, locked onto you, a storm of emotions brewing beneath the carmine pools, his primal instincts nearly taking control. One thing swims to the surface above them all.

Hunger.

In a fraction of a second, you find yourself pinned to the grassy floor again, your head thudding to the ground against Sylus’s protective hand. Your wrists are bound above your head, with one of your thighs held open by Sylus’s tail and the other with his knee. His lips are everywhere, first at your neck, then down your shoulder, lingering at your mark, then trailing down your collar, to your breasts.

“Mm–ngh! Sylus?” you can hardly speak as he lingers at the swell of your chest, “What are you doing?”

“I can taste you,” he hisses, reaching your naval. You can vaguely recall the conversation you’d had with him awhile back–that dragons couldn’t understand a song’s melody or see the beauty in patterns.

Taste the flavors in food.

“More,” is all he’s capable of biting out, before prying your thighs apart. Of course, Sylus had no idea what it meant for something to taste sweet, how the burgundy jewels of the pomegranates you loved so much tasted. But if he had to take a guess…

They’d be nothing compared to the honey he had found between your legs.

“But–I thought dragons c-couldn’t…ah–!” you trail incredulously, yelping as Sylus hooks one of his arms under your knees, sweeping you briefly off the ground so he can yank your skirt off in one swift motion.

You’re left in only your drenched undergarments, skirt thrown somewhere to the side as Sylus resumes his relentless journey into your inner thighs, leaving a trail of angry hickeys in his wake.

“We can’t,” Sylus pants into you, suckling on the soft plush of your thighs, eyeing the glistening folds of your cunt that peek through your sodden panties like his next prey. He’s so close that you can feel his hot breath against your core, and it only makes you wetter.

“But apparently I can taste this.”

The moan you let out is more beautiful than any melody you could ever sing for him, as his mouth closes over your clit, tongue wedging between your slicked lips.

“W-Wait Sylus, m’sensitive!” you protest, still coming down from the way he’d just made your body explode minutes earlier, your core quivering against the heavy demand of his lips. But as you sit up on your elbows and peer down at the silver-haired dragon between your legs, taking one look at Sylus, you know there is absolutely no getting through to him.

Sylus has his mouth latched onto you, like he’s trying to drink your essence right from the source. His nose is buried right beneath your clit, every slightest movement causing the strong ridges to brush against the taut bundle of nerves, making it difficult for you to think straight.

You try to sit up further, but Sylus’s large palm comes up to flatten against your stomach, forcing you back down. He looks up at you, eyes dark and eyebrows furrowed, practically glaring at you.

“Don’t deny me of this,” he growls pleadingly, the sheer need in his voice making your toes curl against the grass.

The strength of his hand has you flopping back down, your body already succumbing to Sylus, yet again. You want to curse your traitorous body as it grinds into his greedy mouth, your mind battling your body’s instinct to chase the feelings that only Sylus can seem to give you.

Why not just give in? That’s what Sylus had been teaching you, right?

Live freely and die without regrets.

You grab two fistfulls of Sylus’s soft silver hair, pulling him impossibly closer to the apex of your thighs, shivering as he moans into you. His thick arms wrap around your thighs, holding on greedily, claws digging in.

“I should punish you for keeping this from me,” Sylus pants, pulling away for a brief second, giving you a pointed smirk. He uses his thumb to wipe the sheen of your arousal from his bottom lip.

“You can’t always get what you want Sylus. Sometimes you have to work for it,” you quip breathlessly, reeling from the sudden lack of his warm and wet tongue.

Sylus chuckles, dark and rich. The dangerous glint in his ruby eyes is one that is all too familiar to you. Your skin crawls, pebbling with goosebumps, and before you can scamper away from him, his fingers come down with a resounding wet ‘smack’ against your unsuspecting cunt.

“Sy-Sylus!” you cry, halfway between a screech and a moan, your body convulsing into a painful arch as it reaches up to meet his palm. Sylus uses that moment to hook his other hand under your back, lifting your body up with one arm, and hoisting you into the air.

You flail as he swings you around, pulling at his hair until you grasp his horns. Sylus hisses, and you find yourself back on the soft grass matted floor. But this time you’re on your knees, straddling Sylus’s face.

“Sylu–ngh!” your eyes widen when his tongue licks at your slit, “P-Please! This is embari-ngh-sing!” It’s impossible to get your words out coherently when his tongue is moving so insistently, trying to drain every drop of your essence.

He digs his claws into the tops of your thighs, trying to pull you down, despite the way you fight to keep yourself propped up on your heels.

“Don’t resist,” he tuts, his voice muffled and rough, “Sit, love.”

”No!” you protest petulantly, sobbing in ecstasy as he sucks down hard on your clit, as if punishing you for your disobedience, “I’m heavy. Don’t wanna squash you.”

“Do you truly think so little of me?” he scoffs, positively offended, his breath warm against your core, “Sit. Now.”

You bite your lip in uncertainty as you stay hovering above him. Sylus remains patient, indulging himself instead by sinking his teeth into the soft skin of your inner thighs. You tremble, nearly doubling over as he suckles on your leg, biting a trail of flowery bruises leading up to your core.

You remain stubbornly, but shakingly, upright. Sylus sighs, losing his patience completely and yanking you down by your thighs, leaving you with no choice but to completely fall onto his waiting mouth.

Your eyes roll back, knees buckling entirely, when Sylus’s tongue enters you, stretching you out over his overeager lips. Your entire body nearly gives out, as you fall forward, your hands barely coming out in time to catch you before you collide with the meadow floor.

But when your palms are supposed to meet the grassy floor, Sylus catches them instead, your fingers intertwining desperately. The tips of his claws stroke your burning skin, terribly soothing compared to the way his tongue was ravishing you so filthily.

Your body reacts to him so readily, your hips starting to grind down almost instinctively, much to Sylus’s satisfaction. His cock twitches, heart nearly pounding through the veins that bulge along the sides, at the idea of you using him for yourself. He hums in pleasure, pressing a teasing kiss to your clit and whispering, “That’s it sweetheart, take what you want from me.”

His words make you squirm. Your hands card through Sylus’s soft silver locks, grabbing hold of his ebony horns for leverage. Sylus growls at your core, the vibrations of his low rumble making you writhe and grind harder onto his lips, your body being pushed toward another explosive release.

“Hah, c-can’t anymore!” you cry, gripping his horns tighter, riding his face for dear life. Sylus doesn’t speak, but his enthusiastic tongue wordlessly conveys his words for him.

You might not be able to, but you will.

Your thighs cling to him, hips rolling into him with wild abandon. Everything about him, his honeyed words, his expert tongue, his possessive fingers make your body desperate for more, to take everything it wants. You’re so lost in your own pleasure that you don’t notice the way Sylus is likewise losing his mind beneath you.

The way you grip his unbearably sensitive horns makes him jerk with need, the taste of your arousal a never ending drug on his tongue. Above all, the way you rode him, the way your body sought exactly what it desired, the way you surrendered to desire, to him, in this moment.

You truly were the other half of his soul.

“O-Oh go–od Sylus!” you moan brokenly, your voice hoarse from the incessant cries, bordering on screams, for him. Your thumbs dig into where his horns meet his scalp, your chest heaving violently as you try to stay upright on his tongue, coming undone across his eagerly waiting lips.

Sylus growls in relief, his enthusiasm bordering on obsession. His tongue laps up every honeyed drop, savoring a taste he knew he’d become all too addicted to. Luckily for him, he’d have you for the rest of eternity. And he fully intended on tasting you, devouring you, every day of his life.

As you start to climb off his face, Sylus grabs you before you can crawl onto the floor, away from him. He carries you as delicately as he would the blooming daturas that surround you, laying you before him, settling between your parted thighs.

“Sylus,” you murmur breathlessly, looking up at him. The waning sun peeks out behind his head, the sky a sunset sorbet that is beginning to melt into the indigo of approaching night. With the fading sun behind him, he is an utterly devastating sight for sore eyes.

You loop your arms around his neck, dragging him down to you. He grunts, letting himself be pulled down to you, a ghost of a smile on his kiss bitten lips.

“I want…” you murmur hoarsely, trailing off as you let your fingers fall, tracing the muscles of his chest, drifting further south until they are grazing the defined contours of his abdomen.

Sylus’s fingers grasp your chin, bringing your eyes back up, where you meet his fiery gaze. His thumb presses into your bottom lip, prying your mouth open gently.

“Go on, my dove,” he hums, his voice practically a purr as he presses the lethal tip of his claw onto your tongue, “Tell me what it is you want.”

You open your lips to speak but between your sore throat, parched from your incessant moans, and the foreign desire still growing in both your gut and your heart, you were far too ashamed to speak further. But with the way Sylus was staring at you, his right eye flickering dangerously, you knew he could see right into your soul.

Sylus’s lips turn up into an absolute shit-eating smirk, his beautiful deep garnet irises gleaming with a rich amusement.

“Can’t speak anymore?” he chuckles amusedly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“That’s alright,” he murmurs, his voice taking on a snarl that’s simultaneously dangerously edged yet velveteen. The ends of his claws trace your pulse as his fingers venture down, making your breath hitch. You shiver, giddy at the idea that those very talons, that were capable of such destruction, were now caressing you with so much tender passion.

“All you’ll need to be able to say is Sylus, hm?”

You light absolutely ablaze at his filthy words, your stomach churning in anticipation at what you know is coming. What you want more than anything you’ve ever known.

His fingers, that’d found their way to the swell of your chest, shred the delicate straps of your corset with the slightest flick of his claws. You squeal as your naked body is exposed to the elements, writhing as the wind nips at your bare skin.

“Hey!” you protest hoarsely, sitting up, your arms darting to wrap around your chest, “Was that really necessary?!” But of course, Sylus is far quicker than you. He catches your wrists easily, holding them in his hands, leaving you beautifully exposed before his hungry eyes.

“No,” he smirks cheekily, face coming inches from yours, his breath fanning across your lips. You glare at him in annoyance, which only makes his grin widen.

“Now it’s my turn to take what I want,” he murmurs, pushing you flat against the grass. With your hands still restrained against his palm, he kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of claiming bruises along the way.

“Beautiful. The truest treasure,” he rasps between kisses. He lingers on the mark on your shoulder, not being able to help but to indulge himself there.

A stream of unabashed moans escape your lips as Sylus bites down, hard. So hard you think he might draw blood. His canines are so close to your pulse; your instincts scream at you to flee, but your soul forces you to stay.

Pain and pleasure, it was all the same. If Sylus was giving it, you wanted it.

This is the man fate had destined for you. Your dragon.

And you fully intended to show him that as well.

With his head at your shoulder, his own neck exposed to you, you couldn’t help but press your lips into his pulse. Sylus tenses in surprise, unwittingly sensitive, but he doesn’t pull away. In fact, his body bucks into yours, his pelvis pressing into you, as if desperately seeking something from you.

“You never learn do you, my little sparrow?” he bites out, his voice rough and raspy. Despite his words, he doesn’t pull away in the slightest. You smile into his neck and gently sink your teeth into his soft skin, desperate to mark him in the same way he’d marked you.

Sylus's breath grows erratic against you, his chest heaving unsteadily. His hands come up to hold you possessively against him, his powerful tail coils around your arched waist, like you might disappear at any second. Your fingers thread into his hair, hooking onto his horns again, as you continue to kiss into his neck.

But suddenly, Sylus is yanking himself away from you, his tail prying you off of him.

“Too much?” you mumble apologetically as you watch him straighten up, waiting for him to settle back down.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he props himself onto his knees, focussed and dangerous. Like a predator before the hunt.

“No. It’s not enough.”

With that, he’s undoing the buckle of his belt, his darkened eyes never leaving yours. You can’t help but bite your lip as you watch the bulging veins of his forearms, his hand reaching into his undone pants. Sylus looks devastatingly handsome as he undresses himself before you, eyeing you like his next meal.

You don’t get to see him pull himself out before Sylus is back on you, his lips fervently attacking yours. You don’t know what’s changed, because the Sylus that’s kissing you right now has completely thrown restraint to the wind, like he’s trying to claim every fiber of your being with this one kiss.

His body is so imposing atop yours that, even naked, you feel nothing but warm and safe in the evening breeze. He’s so close, you can feel his eyelashes on your cheek. But you can’t stop pulling him closer, moaning in satisfaction when he holds you bruisingly tighter.

Still, you want more of him.

Your hand inches down to grasp his manhood in your fingers, pulling away from the kiss with a choke. Being a dragon, you had no doubt that Sylus would be larger than what you’d been told was average from the other women at the Sanctuary. As soon as your fingers make contact, Sylus’s tail is roped around your wrist, the thick scales digging into your burning skin, his eyes filled with a volatile hunger.

He doesn’t pull you away. His tail wrapped around your wrist seems to be more of a silent warning.

If you continue, there’s no going back.

Sylus’s eyes follow you carefully, his right eye shining as he seems to read your every whim and wonder. Every doubt, every fear, every fantasy.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” he coos reassuringly, reading your mind like the back of his hand, thumb catching a stray tear you hadn’t even known had fallen, “I’ve more than prepared you.”

You eye him skeptically, taking a deep breath, peering down at where your bodies are firmly pressed together. Your breath hitches at how pathetically small your hand looks wrapped around him, his erection as beautiful as it was terrifying.

How many fingers had you been able to take earlier? Two?

You were fucked. Literally.

“Y/N,” Sylus calls, his voice taking on a tender warmth that you rarely heard from him, clearly able to read your nervousness.

He grips your chip and tilts your face back up to meet his eyes. Hoisting you up by your waist, he sets you on his lap so that you’re straddling him, wrapping your legs around his hips. His cock stands proudly, arousal smearing all over your bare navel, brushing against your clit as he presses you so deeply into his body that it rests between your leaking folds. Fitting like a puzzle piece.

“I have waited over a millennium for this. For you. I can wait a millennium more, until you’re ready.”

Your body immediately reacts to his profoundly heartfelt words, your chest constricting and your core fluttering. It’s not hard to decide what you want, right then and there.

“I trust you, Sylus,” you say firmly, voice still raspy and hoarse, “I want you. Please.”

Sylus curses under his breath. One forearm wraps around your ass, lifting you and his other hand angling himself so that his thick leaking head is nudging right at your entrance, begging to be inside you. You writhe at the friction, your hips rocking onto him on instinct.

The silver haired man growls, arms tightening around you like a vice, “You drive me insane, Y/N,” he rasps into your ear, his breath hot and heavy.

At long last, he presses himself into you. Crying out, your nails dig into his shoulders, sure to break skin. The discomfort was immeasurable, your body wildly confused by the intense pain but the strange feeling of intimacy.

“I don’t think I can–I can’t!” your hips locking, eyes welling with tears. The stretch was beyond anything you could have ever fathomed, and you were almost sure he would break you.

“You can, you can,” he soothes, almost desperately, like he was terrified you might ask him to stop. Every muscle in his body was locked and tense as he fought the urge to ram right into you, ravaging you like every instinct was telling him to do.

With even just the tip barely inside, he knew this was far too dangerous. The feeling of you wrapped around him was far too addicting, one of few things that threatened to make him lose all humanity to the untamed dragon blood flowing through his veins.

You always were his one weakness.

The urgency, the desperation, in his voice makes your tummy flutter, your body tightening in response to him.

Sylus hisses, his tail constricting around your waist, claws digging into the fat of your hips, “Don’t tighten up. Not if you want me to be gentle.”

“Am I?” you moan as he shifts, sinking slightly more into you, “M’sorry Sy. D-didn't mean to.”

A low rumble ripples from his chest as he does his best not to slam you down the rest of the way down onto the hilt of his cock. Which was nearly impossible because every time he moved at all, he swore your pussy was trying to choke him out.

“Is it all the way in yet?” you whisper, fighting to keep your voice level. You had never felt more full in your life, your gut on the verge of splitting. The pain and since dulled into a somewhat bearable ache, but it was by no means comfortable.

“Half way, love,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

Your eyes widen in shock, “W-What?!” You look down between your bodies, and sure enough, Sylus was still hoisting you halfway above his impossibly massive member. There’s a faint smear of red across the sheen of your combined arousals. Your blood.

Before you can speak further, Sylus presses his lips to yours, stealing your breath as his own. He swallows your moans, his tongue and cock simultaneously sinking further into you.

A string of saliva connects your lips when he pulls away, his fingers tenderly holding your chin, his darkened scarlet eyes piercing into yours. His right eye glimmers with a dangerous edge.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he rasps, still hanging onto his last thread of his control, “You can take it all, can’t you? Perfect little mate.”

Your chest and core simultaneously flutters at his words and you’re fueled with a newfound confidence and an overwhelming wave of lust. It really seemed that Sylus knew exactly what to say to you to have you wanting more.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you roll your hips, trying to inch your own way down him, practically able to feel his pulsing veins throbbing against your gummy walls. The pain from the stretch was still there, but Sylus had prepped you so thoroughly that it was beginning to be difficult to feel anything but good.

“I can take more Sylus,” you murmur into his ear, pressing a wet kiss into his throbbing pulse, “I want more.”

An animalistic snarl rips out from deep within Sylus’s chest. His fingers squeeze literally bruises into your hips as he whispers back into your ear, breath hot and heavy.

“Yeah? That’s my girl,” he rasps, trying to contain his hunger, before lowering you the rest of the onto his cock, seating you entirely on his lap.

He gives you a second to adjust, licking the tears that had started to stream down your cheek. It quickly feels unnatural, and you’re desperate for some friction, the pressure of him at your cervix too intense.

“Ngh–Sy-Sylus,” you moan, “Please, move–do something.”

Sylus twitches inside you, your words fueling him with the desire to breed you full of him, “You’re playing with fire, my little dragon.”

He wraps his thick arms around your body and begins to bounce you up and down on his lap, trying to keep a slow and gentle rhythm, doing his best to ensure you’d be in as little pain as possible.

Of course it didn’t matter, with his sheer size alone, pain was inevitable.

But so was pleasure.

Your body had begun reacting to Sylus all on its own, your hips rolling into Sylus’s sculpted abdomen, trying to pull him deeper into your saccharine heat.

“Ngh–haah…Sy-Sylus!” you splutter, fingers clawing deep red welts into the ropes of muscles on his back, “Feels…”

His tail tightens around your waist, the tip stroking along your thigh, almost affectionately. His pace grows increasingly more vigorous, more excited, as he watches your face contort in different phases of pain and pleasure, “You feel incredible.”

His words, the feral rasp in his voice, so animalistically raw and primal, makes your entire body clench with excitement. And Sylus can feel all of it, every quiver, every twitch.

“You’re so damn tight,” he bites out, rutting up into you, “Trying to break me?”

“You’re–ngh–s’dramatic,” you tease, weaving your fingers through his hair and stroking his horns.

Sylus’s tail grips you, his body tensing as you gently provoke the sensitive ebony spurs. You can swear his rhythm falters, but he composes himself instantly. The rough scales lining his muscular tail sink into your skin, leaving beautiful little crescents behind.

“Am I now?” Sylus smirks, his tone warning you that you’ve used up all his mercy. Your cries amplify as Sylus’s intensity picks up, his pelvis slamming into your cheeks. You’re so caught up in the borderline violent thrusts that you don’t notice when Sylus’s head dips down, his lips latching onto your breast.

“Oh Gods,” your voice is hoarse and broken with desire, nearly drowned out by the wet slaps of his body pounding into yours. On the other hand, Sylus’s mouth is deceptively tender, suckling so gently, teeth grazing so intentionally. His coarse fingers pinch the nipple that he can’t attend to with his tongue, all the while still driving himself deep into your gut.

His free hand comes down between your bodies, the slick that had smeared there coating his fingers as he finds your clit, sending your eyes into the back of your head. The valley echoes with a broken record of your combined cries of pleasure and the lewd sound of wet skin colliding.

“Does every inch of you taste this damn exquisite?” Sylus demands breathlessly when he pulls away from your breasts. The way you felt wrapped around him was making it difficult to control his instincts, needing to remind himself that he needed to be careful with you.

“Hah…only t’you–! Only for you,” you can barely register the words coming out as your ears pound, your vision starting to blur as the same tension you’d felt twice earlier starts to build in again.

A possessive growl erupts from Sylus’s chest, unable to contain his instincts. But the corners of his lips quirk, a pleased smile gracing his features.

“Only for me, hm?” he licks a stripe from your neck to the mark on your shoulder making your entire body shudder.

Sylus’s talons dig into your thighs, now using both the strength of his thighs and arms to fuck you relentlessly onto him. Your back arches backward at the sheer force of his body and you use your palms to catch yourself on the ground behind you. Sylus’s tail steadies you, but at this angle he reaches a new depth inside of you, his impossibly thick cockhead roughly caressing a sensitive spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

“O-Oh Gods, oh Go-ods! Sylus–!” you chant like a broken prayer, your lower half rolling into Sylus’s lap impulsively, like it was the most natural thing in the world. You use your hands that are planted on the ground behind you to give you leverage, just letting your body do whatever feels right, feels natural.

With every roll of your hips, your clit brushes against the silvery mat of wet hair painting Sylus’s pelvis, making your eyes gloss over with a fucked out bliss that has Sylus nearly coming undone himself.

His eyebrows furrow, red eyes swirling with shadows as he watches you atop his cock, his mate. The distinct outline of him strains against your delicate skin every time he thrusts into you, bulging against your naval.

Did you have any idea how insane you were driving him right now?

He hooks his hand behind your waist, just one palm enough to cup the small of your back and pull you back to him. He pulls you flush to his body, your bare chest pressed against his, your hearts pounding against one another.

“I’m a selfish man, Y/N,” he rasps into your ear, fighting to not explode into your gummy walls.

“S’okay,” you cup his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his in a chaste kiss, “I love that about you. I love you.”

Sylus’s tail tenses, still wrapped possessively around you, your proclamation making him snap. Before you know what’s happening, you find yourself being thrown back onto the grassy floor, Sylus’s hands cupping the back of your head as he sets you on the ground. Somehow, he still finds a way to keep himself snug inside you, unwilling to pull away for even a split second.

“Sylus!” you cry out, half in surprise, half in excitement, as his heavy body presses down onto you, his lips less than an inch from yours, cock nearly in your throat.

“Sweetheart,” he groans, voice coming out unusually…frenzied.

He truly was a selfish man, in every sense of the word.

“You can take another for me, right?”

“Another?” you squeak when he licks your cheek playfully, tenderly.

“I’m pretty sure I can…cum–” you flush at the word, still slightly reserved with your newfound sexuality, “–again.”

Sylus chuckles huskily, pressing a soft kiss into your lips, “That’s not what I meant.”

Though he keeps his voice level, he couldn’t keep his heart from hammering erratically in his chest. You felt so indescribably perfect wrapped around him, he couldn't even fathom that it could get better than this.

You were everything he imagined, and then some.

You groan when he shifts to his knees, repositioning himself. Sylus moves his hand to grab the base of his length, and you’re about to protest, not wanting him to pull himself out of you.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, you feel the odd sensation of something else poking at where he had already had you completely full with his ridiculously thick cock. Something that was grinding against your clit, like he would with his thumb, toying with you as if also trying to get inside you. Something equally, if not more, massive than what was already nestled inside of you.

There was no way he thought he could possibly fit more inside you.

With your eyes wide, you shakily, address the silver haired man hovering above you, “H-How did I not see that you have t-two?!”

Sylus throws his head back with a breathless laugh, his entire body shaking. He strokes your cheek with the tip of his ebony claws, staring wryly at you with his sparkling crimson eyes.

“The same way I can hide my wings.”

He strokes the leaking tip of his second cock along your clit, making you shiver. You can’t deny how good it feels, and how exhilarating the thought of it is. The way he looks at you, desperate, feral, and with all the intensity a hunter would stare at its prey.

It makes it impossible for you to think coherently, the lust overpowering all sensibility.

“You can take it,” he coos encouragingly, using his second tip to smear your combined slick around your taut opening, as if preparing you to take him.

“You could–ngh– barely get one in, what makes you think I’ll be able to take two–!?” you writhe, forcing the words out as Sylus continues to slowly rock into you.

Your squirming only makes you tighten further on Sylus, working him up further. His second cock had hardened to the point of pain, no matter how firmly he stroked it. It needed you, and nothing else could satisfy him.

The desire on Sylus’s face, on his body, is palpable. You can see the beads of sweat gliding down his sculpted face as he restrains himself, his chest heaving as he tries to lock his instincts away, a dark storm of frustration in his eyes.

“Oo-kay, I’ll try,” you murmur, hoping to the Gods you’ll live to see another day. Sylus’s carmine eyes light up, a proud grin donning his devilishly handsome features.

“Good girl.”

He forcefully pounds against you, still only letting his second cock grind against your clit. Every thrust causes it to glide against you, rubbing against the sensitive bud, like he was fucking the lips of your cunt with it.

Your fingers claw at the ground as the anticipation boils, waiting for him to just put it in.

“Sy–ngah–just do it alr–”

He presses his thumb into your lips, interrupting the beginnings of your frantic rambles.

“Breathe out.”

Just as Sylus’s hips are about to snap against your cheeks again, you feel him finally push himself into you.

Your eyes go wide, mouth agape, as he stretches you until you fear you may actually pass out. You’re so wet that it doesn’t take much to coax it through the initial stretch. But it still hurts, far worse than when he’d initially penetrated you.

However there is also far more pleasure than before. The two sensations tug at one another, making your mind reel with tumultuous chaos. A tormenting mixture of ecstasy and torment, threatening to shatter your mind.

“S-Sylus, I-I can’t, s’not gonna fit,” you whimper when the stretch becomes too much. Peering down, you see that you’d taken the entire head of his second cock, and you don’t think you can take any more.

Sylus groans, his eyes squeezed shut, a storm brewing within him. The feeling of your perfect cunt wrapped around both of his cocks was unlike anything he could have ever imagined, and he was at war with the feral part of himself that was threatening to break free and take you like he was in rut.

“It will fit, my love,” he soothes tenderly, his fingers rubbing soft circles into your hips.

He bends down, taking your chin in his fingers to pull you in for a kiss. But before your lips meet, he whispers heatedly, eyes overcast with a swirl of inexplicable emotions.

“You were made for me, Y/N. Of course it’ll fit.”

His eyes flicker to your lips, before coming back to your eyes, silently asking for your okay before proceeding. As much as he wanted this, more than anything he wanted you to want it too.

Your heart swells, core fluttering at his words. Sylus hisses when he feels your walls clenching against him, inadvertently sinking further into you.

Gasping, you pull him the rest of the way towards you, circling your arms around his neck, and pushing your lips onto his. You take that moment to arch into him, letting him push deeper into you, biting down on his lip as he sinks further to the hilt.

Sylus kisses you so fiercely that you don’t even notice that he’s fully inside you, both cockheads pressed as deep as they will possibly go. Just as he claims every inch of you with his tongue, his arousal coats every part of you, marking you from the inside.

He pulls away with a snarl, his entire chest shuddering, a visible sheen of sweat glistening on his muscled body, “Sweetheart, I need to move.”

You nod, eyelashes fluttering as you fight to keep your eyes open, “Mmngh–you can move, Sy. I-I want you to.”

Sylus’s eyes darken, his palm slamming down on the ground beside your head. He’s completely hovering over you now, his lower body pressed so deliciously into you. Like he owned you.

Laid out against the tapestry of blooming datura, you made his heart stutter, his right eye twinging with inexplicable desire. You were more magnificent than any work of art. After 1,600 years walking these lands, Sylus finally knew what beauty was.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, slowly pulling out of you before rolling his hips back into you. He’s so deep, stretching you so full, body so heavy on top of yours. You can’t feel anything but him, and it makes you want to come undone all over him again. That sensation in your gut, that you had become all too familiar with, had already built to a near bursting breaking point.

“Soo deep–angh–s’fuuull,” you slur, graspingf his horns again, stroking them affectionately, letting the rough ebony edges ground you.

“Fuck,” Sylus curses sharply as you grope his sensitive horns, barely able to contain his own moans. His knees nearly buckle, using only his arms to keep him propped up over you. Squeezing his eyes shut, he takes a deep breath, forcing himself to regain his composure.

His hips roll into you like the tides of the ocean, his pace smooth and rhythmic. There’s a filthy wet ‘smack!’ every time his pelvis hammers into you, the ecstasy your bodies create together makes you leak uncontrollably, even so tightly plugged up by both his lengths.

“Feel me right here, love?” he grounds out, using one hand to press down firmly on the soft plush of your stomach. You squeal when you feel him pushing down on you, forcing your sensitive spots to clamp down on him. With two of his cocks inside you, there’s absolutely no space for that, the pleasure it brings you sharp and overwhelming.

“Yes-yes—! Please!” you plead, hoping he’ll have mercy on you. He’s driving you closer and closer to another orgasm, and you don’t know if you’ll survive this one.

Sylus can feel it too, the way your saccharine walls begin to squeeze him so sweetly, your beautiful starry eyes hazing over—too fucked out to focus, your clit hardened to a pebble against the slicked mat of silvery hair dusting his pelvis.

With you like this under him, mercy is not something he’s interested in.

In fact, Sylus had never felt like more of a beast than he did now. And the only thing he had an appetite for was you. The only thing that could sate his hunger was feeling you come undone so exquisitely for him again.

He plants one foot on the ground to give him more leverage, letting him thrust down into you more powerfully. Your thighs were spread so widely to accommodate him, your feet swinging wildly as he rolled his pelvis so deliciously into you, his entire body cascading like tidal waves.

“S-Sylus–ngah!” your relentless moans for him would be embarrassing if you weren’t so deep in the hole of lust, “Soo full–ngh–feel s’full–!”

“I know, love,” he purrs, “You’re so beautiful, with me inside you.” He softly strokes the bulge in your tummy, sending shivers down your arched spine, the sensation so otherworldly.

He delicately, but firmly, grabs the back of your neck, his fingers long enough to enclose over your entire throat. Gently, he pulls you forward, forcing you to look down at where he’s palming your stomach.

“Taking me so damn well,” he growls, his fingers threading into your hair now, gripping with just enough tension to make you tremble with excitement. Your forehead knocks against his, his damp bangs fluttering against your eyes. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails clawing into the thick ropes of muscles there.

“Mngh–Syluus, I can’t take much more. M’close again–!”

His hand forces you to watch where he was literally rearranging your insides and has you teetering off the cliff of climax, hanging on for dear life. Sylus’s pace only quickens, his hips pounding into you with reckless abandon now, unable to stop himself, any previous gentleness long gone.

As a Fiend who’d spent his entire life plundering the world of its treasures and riches, he’d come to know insatiable greed. Dragons inherently took and took, feeding off the gluttony of the human soul, unable to quench their own need to acquire.

He’d spent a millennium acquiring the most exquisite jewels, extravagant weapons, rarest heirlooms–what he wanted, he took. And yet, every waking day was the hollow echo of a broken harmonium.

But now, with your angelic little cunt wrapped so perfectly around both his cocks. Your nightingale voice that so often innocently serenaded him, moaning his name like a prayer, greedily begging for more. Your fluttering, doe eyes, glimmering back at him with an entire universe of emotions–desire, anticipation, greed, love.

Sylus realized he’d never known true desire. Not until he’d met you. Nothing he’d ever experienced compared to what it felt like now, to want you–to need you.

And he’d desire nothing, now and forevermore, if he had you.

Sylus’s fiery breath fans across your lips, his hand holding the back of your head demandingly, voice raspy with an unyielding desire, “I can feel it, sweetheart.”

“Don’t make me beg, hm?”

His heat fueled words, all but a demand, make you shake to your core. Your body’s perfect reactions to him only make Sylus more vigorous with need, growing impossibly harder inside you. One leaking tip brushes relentlessly against your g-spot, the other bullying into your cervix, damn near trying to find its way into your chest.

“Sy-Sy–ngh–m’cumming–! Please–!” your neck is hinged back in an ear splitting cry, your hips arched so deeply into Sylus that your spine feels like it might snap.

“Sh-shit–just like that,” Sylus grits, groaning as your cunt tries to wring him dry, “Just like that, sweet girl. Cum for me.”

Your body convulses, goosebumps littering your skin, as Sylus continues to fuck you through your orgasm, your vision blurring and tears seeping out from the corners of your eyes.You don’t know if it’s because you’ve cum three times already, or because he has you absolutely speared on both his massive erections, or maybe because he looks down at you with all the adoration you think one could hold for even the stars. But this orgasm is far more explosive than the previous ones, and it makes you scream into the night.

You release fiercely against Sylus’s body, the wet gush of release simultaneously erotic and strange. The muscles of your thighs trembled viciously. Your cries of complete and utter pleasure are strangled, your voice nearly gone now. Sylus is cooing sweetly into your ear, but you can't hear him through the blood pounding in your head, your eyes having a hard time staying focussed.

You don’t even notice when Sylus shifts, now on his knees, his fingers grasping the plush of your hips. Your back now rests against the matted meadow floor, your vision filled with the sky that was slowly filling with stars.

But your sight is incredibly shaky, Sylus’s grip on your hips bruising as he pulls your body into his relentlessly, still chasing his own release.

Your senses slowly start to come back to you, the feeling of his cocks still rutting deeply into you sobering you up. The feeling was strange; it was by no means painful, but it was sharp and made you wince.

“Ungh, Sy–s-sensitive,” you whisper, your throat scratchy. Though his thrusts are rough, possessive, he’s somehow still careful with your body, making sure you’re not a complete ragdoll against his demanding pull. You crane your neck slightly and see that, during your momentary orgasmic state of incohesion, Sylus had placed his pants under your head, and what was left of your clothing under your naked back.

The simple gesture makes your heart skip with inexplicable happiness as you gaze up at him, admittedly growing aroused again, watching him.

His sweat matted silver bangs had been tousled back, as if he had run his fingers through them. Thick eyebrows, arched downward, darkening his already smoldering irises, watching you like you were the reason the sun rose every day. His entire body was layered in a thin sheen of sweat that made him appear as if he was chiseled from marble, like the sculptures you’d see in the Ivory City.

“You know, dragons like to mate in the sky,” Sylus groans, a near ramble, delirious with desire, clearly near his own release. His tail flickers wildly behind him, and you use your calf to rub against it. He tenses with a strangled moan, snapping his hips particularly harshly into you. Your eyes roll back as he bruises against your cervix, your sensitivity at an all time high.

“Sylus!”

“One day, hm? Right now, there’s nothing I want more than to see you spread out amongst these flowers.”

Another series of desperate ruts that have you writhing at the intensity.

“We have all the time in the world.”

His honeyed vows have you keening, your body reacting viscerally. Sylus reels when you clamp down on him, doubling over with a strangled groan.

“Not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that,” he pants into the crook of your neck, chest heaving. You loosely wrap your weak arms around his neck, nipping at his earlobe, enjoying the way he flinches.

“Please,” you beg, knowing how much he loves your greed, “I want you to, Sylus.”

A rumbling growl emits from Sylus’s chest, still pressed against yours. Your brain is far too exhausted to register how quickly he moves, maneuvering your thighs until they’re pressed against your breasts.

“Yeah?” Sylus snarls, his entire body caging you in, thighs closed over yours. You swear you can hear your muscles groan in protest, not meant to be this flexible. He’s practically sitting on you, except he keeps most of his weight off of you. From this angle he reaches the deepest he’s been able to, locking you in a mating press that he’s determined to breed you full in.

“You want me to cum in you, sweetheart?” he rasps, completely feral–too far gone. He’s ramming down into you now, using the strength of his thighs and gravity to knock the air out of your lungs, cocks reaching deep down your throat.

“Too-nghn–too deep!” You don’t know how it’s possible but you feel the coil in your core building again, and you’re certain you won’t survive it this time. It’s too fast, too sensitive, too taut.

Sylus groans, the sound of his pleasure making your mind spin. His rhythm stutters, and you swear you can feel him pulsing inside you, literal vibrations rocking your core. You’d like to think he was as close as you were, again.

“Needs t’be deep, love. If you’re going to give me an heir, hm?”

Your eyes widen at his words, heart skipping a beat. Sylus falters again, feeling you tighten at his words, before smirking crookedly at you.

“So damn tight. Does my sweet girl like that idea?” he croons, almost condescendingly, but threateningly serious.

Your vision is blurred with euphoric tears, but you can clearly see Sylus’s enchanting eyes looking down at you as they had many times before. They were always intense, the carmine hues able to peer right into your soul. But the heat in them now, as he watched you writhing in ecstasy under him, would put a wildfire to shame.

You look up at him through your dewy eyelashes, grasping his shoulders, and nod wordlessly, unbelievably aroused by his lewd words of passion.

Storm clouds swirled in his scarlet eyes and he leaned down impossibly closer to you, pressing your bodies tighter together, forcing himself deeper.

“You’re going to take my knot like a good little mate, hm?”

You weren’t entirely sure what that was, but the way Sylus said it just dripped with a possessive sensuality that made you want to submit to his every will. Your stomach flutters at the thought of it, and so you nod eagerly.

“Ungh–anything, Sy–! Anything for you.”

Sylus snarls, nearly baring his teeth, unable to contain the sheer primal joy he felt from your sinful words. He was already having a hard time keeping his instincts at bay with how you felt wrapped around him, underneath him, but now you were on the verge of making him snap entirely.

Did you have any idea what you were doing to him?

“The world needs more dragons, don’t you think?” he snarls, his hand pressing down roughly on your stomach where his two cocks threaten to erupt inside you. The implications of his hand cupping your stomach send you over the edge once more.

Gods, you’d be so beautiful carrying his brood.

“C-Cumming Sylus!” you whine, voice pathetically broken, body spent beyond belief. Your nails drag through his shoulders, piercing his skin and spilling blood, as every nerve in your body lights ablaze under his touch.

Sylus sinks his teeth into the sensitive spot on your shoulder, needing to claim you as he pushed himself to the edge. Your cunt convulses viciously against him as you cum, the feeling of your perfect heat milking both his cocks pushing him to cum with you.

“F-Fuck, Y/N–!”

Sylus explodes in you with a strangled groan of your name, his release thick, plenty, and scalding. It sends a claiming heat from your core all the way to your fingertips, making you shiver as you shudder with the waves of your climax, crying repeatedly for him.

You feel like you might burst, your stomach swollen with not only his cocks nestled in you but the sheer amount of cum he was still spurting in you. If you weren’t so blissfully fucked out, it might’ve been a bizarre sight, your tummy bulging with the weight of his unending seed painting your walls cream.

“Mine,” he groans into your neck, sinking himself back into your mark, still rocking into you, still spurting white into you. There’s far too much, leaking out of where he was still connected to you, rutting into you.

It quickly becomes too much; you’re not sure if you’d become too raw or if you’d simply had enough, but a strange pressure begins to build. And soon that pressure becomes a stinging, painful stretch.

“Sy-lus,” you whisper, tapping at his chest frantically, “W-Wait please. Something hurts.”

Sylus affectionately licks at the mark he’d branded you with, releasing your legs from the mating press he’d held you in. You whimper in relief when the tension in your hips finally releases. Sylus gently wraps your legs around his waist, but the growing pain between your thighs doesn’t subside.

“It’s my knot, love,” he growls, his voice gruff and gravely. His entire body trembles at the sensation of his knot swelling–filling you, the idea of his seed being stuffed deep inside you making it difficult for him to calm his raging instincts.

His hand palms where your thighs meet the plush of your rear, kneading into your ass and gripping you closer to him. You instinctually squirm away, the stretch becoming unbearable. But you quickly realize that you physically can’t. You’re literally locked onto him.

Sylus hisses, holding you in place, desperately trying to get you to stop moving.

“Please, sweetheart.”

From the sweat dripping down his brow, his jaw clenched so sharply it could cut stone, you realized his knot must’ve been incredibly sensitive. If you weren’t the one getting stretched out onto it, you might’ve even teased him.

“Just so big, t-too much,” you squeak as he swells further inside of you, not sure how much more you could take. You look down at where his abdomen is pressed into you, the area a pearly mess of your coalesced spend.

You could vaguely see that Sylus had in fact slipped one of his erections out of you, occluded by the sight of the other still engorged and locked inside you. You briefly wonder if the other one is also swelling with a knot. Had he pulled it out for your sake?

“How–nghah–how much more?” you pant, trying your best not to clench down.

“Almost. You’re taking me so well, Y/N,” Sylus murmurs, deceptively sweet, when all he wanted to do was ram his second knot into you. The battle between his innate draconic instincts, wanting to claim you full force like a beast, and the dual need to protect and cherish you, the last bit of his soul that was untainted.

You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, burying your face into his neck. His scent invades your senses, and you can’t help but moan, lips latching onto his racing pulse. Sylus groans, fingers grasping the back of your head and pressing you deeper into his chest. His tail wraps around your waist again, needing to be closer to you, deeper in you.

“Look at you,” he groans breathily into your ear, the swelling finally seeming to finish, “Taking my entire knot, hm?”

With his entire knot wrapped in your perfect heavenly cunt, Sylus can’t help but start rocking into you again. He’d cum so thickly inside you that his knot actually begins to thrust ever so slightly, the friction sending his eyes reeling backward.

Your eyes blow open, wincing at the feeling of prickling overstimulation. But when you see him, you find yourself not wanting to tell him to stop.

Sylus’s pearly white canines have dug into his kiss bitten lips, a rosy blush dusting his sharp cheeks. The emerging moonlight makes his argent hair even more ethereal, mussed back in an adorably messy way. His breath is heavy–desperate, face contorted in pure euphoria as he slowly thrusts into you again.

When you look up at him, you catch him watching you, his eyes overcast by the furrow of his thick eyebrows.

Reflected in the sea of searing vermillion, the adoration and worship burning brighter than the moon that illuminates a halo behind him, you see your soul reflected back at you. A soul that had been burned black, a puppet without a heart, consumed by revenge and contempt.

Until a fiendish dragon had plucked her out of the Abyss, and breathed fire back into that very hollow vessel of hatred, illuminating her spirit golden with greed.

That very greed not only saved your life, but showed you what it meant to be alive.

You let him slowly fuck his knot into you, whimpering as he stretched you to the point of breaking. Oddly enough, you didn’t hate the feeling, even though it stung. In fact, your body seemed to crave it, crave his body claiming yours.

“You feel so fucking incredible,” Sylus growls, his movements growing more and more insistent with every passing moment. From his gravelly voice you can tell he’s quickly losing control. Your eyes flutter upward, becoming overwhelmed, your poor body unable to take any more.

“Syluus, no more,” you grip his forearm, voice weak. Sylus stills when he hears the genuine pain in your voice. His lips are instantly at your temple, pressing kisses into your damp skin.

“Apologies, my love. I got carried away.”

Sylus shifts, cradling you so that you’re now on top of him, his strong arms holding you protectively. His knot, still swollen, rests tightly inside you, plugging you full of his thick seed. You listen to the thrum of his heartbeat, the two of you laying there in a serene silence that nearly lulls you into sleep.

“You are my fate,” he murmurs imperceptibly, pressing a soft kiss into the claim on your shoulder. His tail has found itself wrapped around your body again, the thick and cold scales digging pleasantly into your burning skin.

“Hm?” you mumble, sleep creeping in on your consciousness like a thick misty fog.

Sylus’s chest rumbles with a deep chuckle, his fingers carding through your hair. He can feel his knot slowly beginning to subside, though his body still rides high from the passion.

“Nothing. Sleep, my little dragon.”

–

“Sing for me.”

Sylus’s wings are cocooned protectively around your naked body, seeing as he had absolutely shredded your clothes earlier. The two of you sat against the trunk of a large willow, with Sylus’s back pressed against it, and your back pressed against his chest, his thighs caged around yours. His tail rests on the ground, coiled around your feet, flickering every so often.

You’d awakened to a moonlit tapestry of stars and had stayed to admire them in the serenity of the valley, instead of heading back to the chapel.

You crane your neck to look back at him, “What, no please?”

Sylus arches an eyebrow at you, “Were you always this cheeky?”

You can’t help but let out an amused snort, “Were you always this demanding?”

Sylus grimaces, bordering dangerously close to a pout, “Will you sing for me?”

“My throat is sore,” you whine. It was wholeheartedly the truth; your voice was raw from your prior vigorous…activities. But the adorable sulk on his face has your resolve slipping away.

“Just a little,” he murmurs, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly. You don’t even think he realizes he’s pouting.

You turn your eyes back to the night sky with a giggle. He always demanded you to sing for him, especially when you’d watch the moon together. It was almost a ritual for the two of you. And you rarely denied him.

♪ “This world is a wasteland where nothing can grow,” ♫

Sylus’s wings tense around you as you start singing, his chin resting on the top of your head. The gentle lilt of your voice sent a shiver down his spine, as he tried to recognize the lyrics. But he realized you hadn’t ever sung this one for him before.

♫ “If it weren't for you, I'd be here all alone,” ♪

You keep your voice low and steady as you sing the melody, staring up at the moon in the cloudless sky. It shines even brighter than it had that night in the chapel.

♪ “I know in my heart this is where we belong.” ♫

The next lines get caught in your throat when a droplet of water splashes on the crown of your head.

Odd. There hadn’t been any clouds in the sky.

You tilt your head all the way back, trying to get a better look at the sky, “It’s starting to rain.”

Sylus’s upside down face blocks your view, looming over you. He gently grasps your chin and brings your lips up to his, capturing you in a slow and tender kiss.

A few more raindrops fall onto your cheek, making you shiver. The valley rain is strangely warm.

When he releases your lips, Sylus wraps his arm around your chest, holding you to him. His heart pounds so heavily you can feel it thrumming against your naked back.

“Oh! I think the rain stopped Sylus!” you gasp, holding out your palms and extending your arms beyond the shade of the willow to try and catch some falling rainfall.

Sylus’s chest vibrates with laughter. He presses his lips into your hair, taking a deep inhale of your scent. Your pheromones nearly have him throwing you under him again, blood rushing south.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your head, shifting so his erections aren’t pressing into your spine.

Turning to look at him, you giggle in surprise. The silver-haired dragon was not typically a man of many ‘thank yous.’

“For what? Singing?

Sylus doesn’t answer immediately, staring up at the silky glow of the full moon. His normally shadowed irises glisten unusually bright under the radiance of the stars.

He’d always wanted someone to watch the moon with.

Sylus looks at you. The corners of his lips are curved in a barely-there smile, but his crimson eyes behold you such devotion that your breath catches. Deep inside the recesses of your consciousness, you can feel your soul tremble, as if being caressed by the claws of another.

“Yeah. For singing.”

–

A drop of water splashes against your cheek, shaking you out of your reverie.

You frantically wipe the tears from your cheeks away with your fingers, but the water only continues to fall.

Looking up, you realize the sunset had faded into night. In your reminiscing, clouds had overtaken the sky, crystalline raindrops starting to cascade from the heavens.

It’s…raining.

It hadn’t rained for decades in Tarus City, not since that day atop the Highest Court of Justitia.

Not until now.

♪ This world is a wasteland. ♫

You reach your hand out to catch some of the falling water in your palm, enjoying the sensation of the droplets splashing against your tepid skin.

A fleck of ebony ash drifts into your palm, the lingering orange ember fading away like a melting sunset when it meets your wet skin, tragically beautiful.

Like a body fading into crystals of midnight, getting swept up into the clouds.

♫ Don't let me go, go, go, go, go, go, go. ♪

The raindrops mix with your tears. You’re not sure how much time passes with you standing there in the rain, a mess of silent sobs. Seconds, minutes, hours, you’re not sure how long. Time seems to lose meaning as you stand there, your emotions coming out in an endless stream of tears. Eventually your eyes dry, your body dehydrated with nothing left to shed.

But the rain doesn’t show any signs of relenting.

When your bloodshot vision focusses just enough for you to regain your sight, you watch as the rainwater seems to melt away the thick layers of soot that had caked the meadow floor for decades.

The rain was pouring down like silver threads now, gathering into the streams in the depths of the meadow. The way the water trickled down the spine of the empty riverbanks almost made it seem like the valley was alive again.

You look up at the sky. Darkness had come quick, especially with the amount of rain clouds that had surfaced. There weren’t many stars visible, the twinkling lights hidden by the smog and the clouds.

But as you watch the billowing storm clouds, the wind picks up, parting the column of clouds into two, allowing the glow of the moon to illuminate through.

Your breath catches as you behold the sight of the moon. It was a full moon tonight, a halo of argent brilliance.

The same moon you’d watched together here, on that night.

You couldn't recall the last time you'd allowed yourself to gaze at the moon like this. It felt wrong–to watch the night sky without Sylus. Or maybe you were just too much of a coward.

Wherever he was, was there a moon for him to gaze up at too?

Standing here in the valley, under the bask of the moonlight, you feel closer to him than you had in a long time. There’s so much you wanted to say to him, to apologize for–to explain. But you struggle to find the words, your voice caught in your throat, drowning in unrelenting rain and inexplicable emotions.

Your heart drops when the light wanes, the moon getting swallowed up by the unending storm clouds, the moment passing as quickly as it had come.

Some words are like the moonlight hidden by the clouds. Once the moment passes, there’s no need to say them anymore.

The rainfall drizzles to a stop, leaving you a soaked and shivering mess in the creeping darkness. Though the rain has stopped, the clouds remain. They blanket the entire sky, reaching towards the valley. They trickle over the tops of the scarlet mountains, spilling down like a waterfall.

You’re about to turn to leave when another falling fleck of ash flits in front of your face, tickling your eyelashes.

You catch it in your open hand, waiting for it to dissolve into the dewiness of your palm. But it just lays there, whole and unyielding. Picking it up, you examine it carefully, before tentatively twirling it around between your fingertips.

What you thought was a fleck of ash wasn’t actually, but a midnight datura petal.

Your eyes widen in shock, cradling the fragmented bloom in your palm as if it were a newborn hatchling. Whirling around, you search for any possible signs that there could be flowering daturas in the valley. But the ground is covered in nothing but melting ash, as far as your eye can see. Surely nothing could have survived here.

But the flesh feels healthy and supple as you pinch it gently between your fingertips, as if it’d just been freshly plucked.

Wrapping your arms around your soaked and shivering body, the petal tucked in between your fingers, you look out one last time into the vast expanse of ashen scarlet hills.

Somewhere out there, there is a blooming datura. If even just one.

“Tarus City will bloom once more–as far as the eye can see.”

You let the wind carry your voice off, louder and stronger than you’d intended. The meadow listens, your words echoing into the heart of the valley.

“But only for you, Sylus.”

You bring the datura petal to your lips, pressing it tenderly there. For a second, you contemplate holding onto it. Taking it with you.

But perhaps that’d been your mistake all these years.

Holding on when you should’ve been letting go.

You unclasp your fingers, and the wind lifts the petal from your hands. As it flutters past your shoulders, there’s an inexplicable warmth that emanates from Sylus’s mark–the faint traces of the bittersweet scent of cindered blossoms tickling your nostrils.

It drifts higher, towards the call of the wild–the mountain ranges beckoning it toward them. Higher until you can barely make it out from the expanse of the twilight sky.

Higher, until it disappears beyond the cloudfall.

♪ Don't let me go. ♫

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

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roxynani9292 · 6 months ago

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Sylus Beyond Cloudfall

#love and deepspace #lads #sylus #myths #beyond cloudfall

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clairewritesfanfics · 4 months ago

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Inside an Otoge: Mister Dragon, Let Me Love You Chapter 4

Pairing: Dragon!Sylus x Non-MC!Reader

CHAPTER 3 | Series Masterlist <<read the synopsis and trigger warnings first>>

A/N: Another update, because apparently, my brain will do anything except study anatomy.

The science of world-hopping is far from your expertise, but even with your high school-level grasp on physics, you understood the sheer miracle of getting transported into a dimension where the environment is not hostile and shares similarities with Earth’s atmosphere. Perhaps even more impressive is the fact that there is no verbal language barrier between you and Sylus.

That’s why you are currently sitting on a gold and velvet chair while he lies on his side, cheek on his knuckles, and listens to you read your worn-out copy of The Little Prince,[1] the only reading material in your bag that isn’t related to your job.

When he first saw the cover, he was unimpressed, calling the titular prince “ugly.” You didn’t blame him. When you first laid eyes on it, you also didn’t like the artstyle, but you were young and prioritized realism and beauty. When you grew older, you appreciated the unique and cute character designs.

“She cast her fragrance and her radiance over me. I ought never to have run away from her . . . I ought to have guessed all the affection that lay behind her poor little strategems. Flowers are so inconsistent! But I was too young to know how to love her . . .”

You are about to start another chapter when you catch Sylus with his eyes closed. Chuckling, you put a detached can tab between the pages. Maybe this novella is too boring for the great fiend. You move to stand, but he pinches the material of your shirt. “What’re you doing? Why did you stop?”

“I was going to let you sleep.”

“‘m not sleeping, I’m just resting my eyes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I want to know what happens between him and the flower.”

“... fine. But if I catch you dozing off I’ll stop and you’re going to have to learn to read these words yourself.” You love this book but it is too long to be recited in one go.

As you have predicted, by the time you reach the chapter about the Businessman, a lonely and pathetic man who counts the stars and only sees them as “little glittering objects” to be possessed, your throat has become too raw and you couldn’t continue.

Fortunately, your spoiled dragon is too busy sleeping to protest. You bookmark the page and quietly set it down. “Sweet dreams.”

You take this time to find the exit, not to escape, just to know. You eventually find it. The cave opens to a cliffside overlooking a city boasting a castle that resembles a gothic Neuschwanstein Castle.

You breathe in the fresh air. Crisp and cool and not a trace of smog.

Left alone in silence, all the questions that you forced into a vault have pushed their way to the front and center of your mind.

Why were you brought here? What forces were behind this? Was it on purpose or an accident? Was this world truly real? Did you get run over by a truck, end up in a coma and now stuck in this dream? Maybe the wormhole was a convoluted way for your brain to rationalize this.

You stretch your hand toward the sky as if trying to touch the clouds. If this was a dream, then…

You close your hand.

“It doesn’t matter.”

A strong gust of wind howls at you. You grab onto the wall of the cave, almost falling over to certain death.

You raise your brows. The skies remain clear, but for a moment, it seemed like a storm was brewing.

Shaking your head, you step back inside and explore more of the cave.

That evening, Sylus awoke to see you standing over him, watching him. He had to shut his eyes again. He would sooner stick needles into his tongue than admit that you scared him for a moment.

“Did I scare you?” You tease him.

“...”

It is unnerving to have someone read him so easily.

Loathing, revulsion, disgust–he is all too used to these looks from humans. As a child, he would have done anything to have something different, something softer. He even tried to cut off his horns and tail, but nothing changed. When he grew up, he discarded such desires. A monster could never receive anything but the darkest tar of human emotion.

“Hey, can I ask a question about dragons?”

“If you’re interested in making a deal with me, don’t bother. Your soul is too…” Your greed is nothing he has ever encountered before. It is there, he can sense its weight in you, but it resembles a tamed beast. No, rather than tamed, your greed is like a wild animal that had lost hope of ever escaping its chains. As if you’ve given up hope for anything more. “You have nothing to offer me.”

“Oh, no, I don’t want to make a deal.”

He snickers. Of course. “Fine. Tell me your question.”

“Do dragons have two penises?”

“...”

“...?”

“Repeat the question for me.”

“Do dragons have two–”

“–so I wasn’t hallucinating.” He rubs his temples. “You… I have no words.”

“Is that a no?”

“Do try not to sound so disappointed. Also, I advise that you not ask this type of question to anyone, regardless of species.”

“But I’m only interested in what you have to say.”

He glances at you. There is not a hint of shame or deceit on your face. Ever since you arrived here, you have never looked at him the way others have. You always meet his gaze head on, steady, unafraid but never arrogant or angry. You told him that he reminded you of the sunset. If that were so, then you are a clear sky.

He could never stand mornings. The light makes him weak and irritates his eyes. But if he were an ordinary man, a human, would the sun that used to burn him be kind and gentle like what he was feeling right now?

You did say that you belonged to him now, so it shouldn’t matter if he gets greedy.

“Sylus?”

He stops his hand mid-air before it could reach you. “Your voice is hoarse.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

He gets up from the bed, stretching his wings. “Don’t pout. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Will you?”

He smiles. “A dragon never goes back on his word.”

He leads you to the cave’s entrance and gestures towards the black castle below. “At the foot of this mountain is Tarus City. It’s considered the lowliest of all the cities here. But its markets have a lot of interesting things. Perhaps you will even find an object that can meet your impossible standards.”

He offers you his hand and you hold it without hesitation. He stares at your fingers, small and fragile next to his claws. This is not the hand of a fighter. If he applies just a little bit more pressure, the bones would break like eggshells. He could have never imagined something so delicate would willingly approach him.

“I’m assuming that your kind cannot fly,” he says.

“You would be correct,” you reply, already knowing what he is planning as he bends over and scoops you into his arms.

“Better hold on tight then.”

His bat-like wings spread to their full length and push the two of you upward.

This scene feels exactly like a CG scene from an otome game, or even a shoujo manga, where the darling female lead wraps her arms around the male lead. But you keep your hands to yourself as Sylus soars across the moonlit night.

“You’re stiff. Got nothing smart to say?” He asks.

That steady gaze of yours remains on him. “I’m admiring the view.”

“I caught you doing the same thing while I slept. Will you get tired of it?”

“I don’t think that’s physically possible.”

“Normally, people would be admiring the scenery below. It’s not everyday a human can live like a bird.”

“I don’t need it.” This world is lovely, without a doubt, but whatever is below you is nothing compared to Sylus’s face which could be part of the Seven Wonders. Besides, you want to ingrain every one of his pores into your memory.

“We’re here.” He slows down and drops a few meters away from the city entrance.

You make no effort to hide your disappointment as he sets you on the ground.

“Did you enjoy being held by me that much?”

“Why ask when you already know the answer.” You then let out an exaggerated, playful sigh.

“Now, now. There are plenty of chances to hold each other in the future.”

“Sure, sure.” You shrug and then realize something. “Oh, wait–my clothes…”

“Don’t fret, you may end up getting some strange looks but ultimately, the citizens here have their own problems to worry about. They can’t afford to be nosy about a harmless thing like you.”

“Fair enough. Let’s go then.”

The city was designed after the word “gloom,” with a silent dread perpetually hanging over every person you pass. This place is like Gotham in medieval times.

“Your eyes are sparkling,” Sylus notes, amused at how your head swings back and forth with childlike vigor.

A normal NPC would be affected by this darkness, but not you. You find yourself wishing you had a working phone so you could take pictures. A true, obnoxious tourist.

“In my world, this type of trip wasn’t affordable to me. And even if I had the money, going on alone would’ve made me too stressed to enjoy myself.”

“Is that so?”

You rub your palms together as you admire the iron lamp post that lined the streets. “Yeah, and I would have never gotten an opportunity like this in the past.” You turn to him, beaming uncontrollably. “So thank you, Sylus.”

Sylus stops walking.

You stop too. “What is it?”

He touches his chest and opens his mouth, but no words escape. He narrows his eyes, but not at you.

“Sylus?”

He lets his arm drop to his side as he looks up at the sky. “It’s nothing.”

You silently watch him, your own face blank, then you grin. This time, your smile is subdued. “All right.”

He holds out his hand. You put yours on top and he places a pouch of coins on it.

“Feel free to look around. I have some business to attend to, it won’t be long and if you need me, just call my name. I’ll come to you, no matter what.”

“Okay.”

You watch him walk away, disappearing in the shadows. You let out a breath, the cold air fogging in front of you. “‘Nothing,’ huh.” You didn’t think it would happen so fast.

Whatever.

Deciding to do as you promised, you approach some of the stalls. You haven’t eaten anything since that pack of Pocky and since you would rather not touch the meat here, you opted for the pastries.

As you sit on a bench chewing your second pretzel, an elderly woman dressed in a black hooded robe wobbles towards you. She points an accusatory finger. “You… you are not of this world.”

Oh?

You continue to eat, ignoring her.

“You shouldn’t be here. You need to leave!” With a burst of energy, she rushes forward and clamps her hands over your shoulders, knocking the pretzel away from you.

You don’t fight back though. You keep your expression unreadable and let her ramble.

“It doesn’t want you here. You need to leave. You will doom us all…and you will die!”

“Everyone dies, though, granny. And you may end up going before me.”

She seems taken aback by your apathy. Her shock then morphs into rage. “I’m warning you! If you’re not careful, you will get killed!”

It is your turn to grab her–you hold her fingers tightly and lean forward. “Really? How does it happen? More importantly, who gets to kill me? Are their eyes as gorgeous as polished rubies? If not, then can you tell me how to get that person to kill me? I have no interest in getting murdered by anybody but him.” Your questions come after another in rapid succession.

“Answer me, granny, who kills me?”

The old woman’s legs shook and you let go. With a sigh, you retreat. “I didn’t mean to scare you, ma’am, but you should be careful when telling people about their destiny.”

“Granny!” Two little boys run towards the shaking old woman. “So you were here, mother has been looking everywhere for you.”

One of the boys bow to you. “We’re so sorry if she offended you in some way. She’s sick so please pardon her.”

You wave them off. “Apologies are not needed, but you should keep a close eye on her.”

“We will…” The boys move to help their granny walk.

“Wait.” You pick up the bag full of pastries and give it to the boy. It isn’t just the granny, all three of them are frail enough to be knocked down by a faint breeze.

“But…”

“Just take it.”

“T-thank you!”

Picking up your other purchases, you go to find a different place to wait for Sylus. You feel bad for picking on an old lady, but you wanted to see if she were an authentic fortune teller. To be honest, the information you’ve gathered can only result in an inconclusive answer because this whole “reality” could not be trusted. Still, it is better to lean into caution.

You hold your chin. That woman saying that you are “not of this world” is too specific, but this place co-exists with different species and acknowledges the existence of a metaphysical plane like the Abyss, so there is a chance that she saw your abnormal clothes and thought you were a non-human similar to Sylus. The statement doesn’t necessarily have to refer to a different reality.

It doesn’t want you here.

It.

“Killed, not die…” This is quite the pickle. “...killed…not die.”

Hm.

Hmmmmm…

You have decided.

“This is tomorrow’s problem.” You wish your future self good luck because you don't care anymore.

Before you can stand, a shady-looking man stumbled towards you, eyes glossed over and posture uneven. A drunk. “Haven’t seen you here before.”

You grab your things.

“Hey now, no need for that, I just want to… want to talk with you.”

He is a malnourished drunk so you could probably push him away, but it’s always better to avoid a confrontation.

“Hey… hey! Don’t ignore me!” He lunges forward, but is blocked by a solid wall forming between the two of you. No, not a wall.

Sylus stands in front of you. “Did you need something from my companion?”

“Huh? Who the hell are you? Don’t get in the way of our fun!” He throws a punch but your dragon dissolves his fist up to his elbow.

“Um, Sylus…” You tap your savior’s shoulder.

“Do me a favor and turn around and cover your ears, puppy. I don’t think I have the right mind to be clean about this.”

“Well, sure, but before that, I have a request. Please don’t kill him.”

He glances over to you. “You can’t be serious. If you could see and hear the… filth that he was planning to do to you…” His right eye glows dangerously. “I cannot possibly leave this garbage alone.”

“Leave? All I want is for you to keep him alive.”

Sylus pauses. “You mean–”

“–think of it as a personal request, but if you really want to kill him I won’t hold it against you.”

You are a person from the 21st century. It would be difficult to continue knowing someone died because they were related to you in some way. You are fine with them being barely alive though.

You then turn around and cover your ears. You have to hum and whisper-sing random songs to distract yourself. Even if you were happy to vote for torture, that doesn’t mean you could stomach the sound of a living creature screaming in agony.

“...making my way downtown walking fast and I’m homebound–ah.” Something warm and fluffy ends up on your shoulders.

“It’s done,” Sylus says, adjusting the cloak. “He’s still alive. The amputation was successful, all five of them.”

“Good to know–hey!”

He uses his body to block you from taking a glimpse of the carnage. The smell of rust and urine permeates the air.

“It’s an ugly sight.”

“...All right.”

“Are you not going to fight me on this?”

“It’s sweet that you remembered that I don’t like gore. I’ll trust your judgment.” Reading and watching records of criminal cases is a different experience from a real life slaughter.

“I thought I told you to call for me if you encountered trouble.” He secures the gold clasp of the cloak around your neck.

“Yes, but you arrived before I got the chance to scream. I appreciate the assist.”

He shakes his head lightly and pulls the hood over your head. “Your composure is astounding.”

“I hope your business meeting or errand went well.”

He hums in response before pinning a brooch on the left breast of your new coat.

You examine the shimmering accessory. “I’ve never seen red thorn apples before.” The primary florals are made with garnets framed by gold leaves and complemented by tiny dots of diamonds that resembled tuberose flowers.[2]

“Is it too gaudy?”

You laugh softly at his pettiness and caress the wine-red blossom. “Not at all. It’s beautiful.” You hope your customer service smile would be enough to trick him.

“Not as beautiful as my ‘polished ruby’ eyes, I hope.”

“You heard that, huh.”

“I think the whole market heard the commotion you made.”

“It was more of a kerfuffle.”

He quirks his brow.

“It wasn’t a big deal. I wanted to teach her about manners, but now I’m starting to feel guilty.” You then dramatically draw circles on your belly.

He grins and offers his hand. “Come. I’ll treat you to something delicious.”

“I refuse to eat Wanderer’s meat.” You put your hand in his. If he fed it to you then maybe you would consider partaking in technical cannibalism.

He cocks his head to the side. “You are impossible to please.”

“Really? I’d say I’m quite low maintenance.” You surprise yourself every time you say such lines. It is getting ridiculously easy to spout out these half-truths.

Important author’s notes: [1] The Little Prince is a novella by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. If you haven’t read it, I suggest giving it a try. The book explores the innocence of youth, loneliness and isolation, human relationships and the responsibilities and vulnerability that come with these relationships. Why does Y/N carry a pocket-sized copy with them to work? Speaking from personal experience, I like to have a good, comforting book with me when I feel sad. A security blanket of sorts.

[2] Thorn apples: Datura stramonium. Other common names are devil's trumpets, moonflowers and jimsonweed. In floriography, they mean “I dreamed of thee.” In the right doses, this plant can be used in treating various ailments. However, it has hallucinogenic properties. Tuberose: Agave amica. An expensive blossom that is used in perfume-making. These flowers can mean “dangerous pleasures.” References: Floriography - the language of Flowers. Flowers by Flourish. (2015, January 27). https://www.flowersbyflourish.com/floriography/

Fun fact, according to a post on the LoveAndDeepspace subreddit, the flowers present in the Sylus: Abyssal Blossom card are most likely thorn apples. The original poster (OP) makes a lot of good points. You can read it here.

@phisen @leryg0 @capribun @sinnamon-bunn @wegottastayfocus @erisnxxi @syyyy4ever @limerenceisserenity

Thank you to everyone taking the time to comment. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Part 5: here Masterlist: here

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verridaiya · 4 months ago

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—Dream Blooms

"I've seen you there, before."

This fic was born from watching Sylus's Abyssal Blossom card and watching my heart break into a million pieces. It hurt, but then I realized you know who hasn't been hurt by it? Sylus.

Based on the prevailing theory/my headcannons that the Abyssal Blossom card was just a dream, brought on by MC's yearning for a normal, quiet life after the events of Beyond Cloudfall chapter 7.

Synopsis: Sylus invites himself over to take care of you while you're sick. You tell him about a pleasant dream of yours and proceed to break his heart. (Or, you dream of something you've dreamt before, and Sylus hears about it for the first time.)

Contains: Spoilers for Sylus's Beyond Cloudfall myth and the Abyssal Blossom card, Sylus x MC/reader, gender neutral MC/reader, angst/hurt (the comfort will come later), current timeline Sylus & MC

Word Count: 1.7k

start | Part 2 >

“I had a strange dream again.”

“Another one, sweetheart?”

Sylus’s voice is a soft murmur above you. You open your blurry eyes to a darkened room and a pleasantly warm body under you, wrapped around you. Your head feels as hazy as the moonlight filtering in from the cloudy night sky through the window. Half-awake and half asleep, you can still feel the sensations of your dream like phantom memories. You hum an affirmation, shaking off the vestiges of a medicine-induced sleepiness.

You’re not quite sure how you found yourself in this position: sprawled out on your couch, nestled between a warm blanket and an even warmer Sylus, breathing in the scent of him through your admittedly stuffy nose. The last thing you remember was you laying collapsed on your bed, trying to convince yourself that you’re not sick, you’re just tired from a long week at the Hunter’s Association, and to muster up the energy to find something to eat. And then, suddenly, there was Sylus, filling your doorway as he had filled every part of your life, your thoughts, and now your dreams.

You’ve been having more of those recently, ever since you absorbed the power of another Aether Core almost a year ago. Reality intertwining with illusions, the people in your life woven intricately into a tapestry of dreams. Fragments of memories, glimpses of things that could never be, or never was. Flashing scales underneath glistening waves. Zayne, in a flowing robe you’ve never seen on him before, but looked so right on him. A silent forest, illuminated by starlight. You would wake up yearning for something just out of reach, hands outstretched to capture the essence of something that slips, incorporeal, through your fingers.

This dream was gentle, though. And this time, your hands didn’t need to reach far to grasp the heart of your dreams.

“You were in it this time, Sylus.”

“Oh?” he says, sounding intrigued. “Do tell, kitten.”

You hear him place something on the coffee table—his phone, probably—his attention shifting solely to you. He carefully moves to his side, extricating himself from under you, a large hand propping his head up so he can fully face you.

The soft moonlight illuminates on his face, throwing it into relief. Silvery hair threaded with shadow, a pale complexion half shrouded in darkness, eyes like banked hearths warming you with its glow. Through the haze of your fever, you can almost envision what you saw in your dream. You lift a hand pat his soft hair, as if searching for something that wasn’t there, before trailing your fingers down the side of his face.

“You had something on your head.” No, not exactly on his head. You can’t quite remember. The you in the dream was certain that the something was more a part of him than anything else. You frown slightly. The more you strain to remember the details of it, the more awake you became, and the more it danced out of your grasp. “Something sharp and twisting. Rough. It was beautiful, though. You were beautiful.”

Sylus stares at you with wide eyes you couldn’t decipher in your current state. There’s a spark of something foreign in his eyes.

“And?” he urges on, his deep voice uncharacteristically eager to your ears. He reaches to grab the hand that was holding his face, pressing it gently to him. His thumb rubs against the back of it in small soothing motions. “Can you tell me more about this dream of yours, kitten?”

You grasp at the cotton inside your head, stuffy from sleep and sickness. It takes so much effort, to tease apart the strands and find the wisps of fading dreams. It doesn’t help that you were also fighting off the drowsiness. You try, though, to give him what he’s asking for, as he always does for you.

“We were standing in a lovely field of flowers. They were breathtaking, Sylus. Such a vivid, dazzling red. There was a black spire in the distance, I think.” The spire had stood tucked away in the backdrop of rolling hills, but it was a small detail your mind was stuck on for some reason.

Thinking about that spire again, your mind can almost conjure a clear image of your dream. A lingering feeling of déjà vu washes over you, settling heavy on your chest. You’ve dreamt this before; you feel this with every bone in your body as an unshakeable fact. You’ve seen this obsidian spire before, this sprawling flower field. You know with startling certainty that you’ve had this exact dream before. But when you try to recall when, the feeling dissipates and leaves behind only a phantom sensation and an absence in your memory you cannot comprehend.

Sylus watches as you shake away the remnants of déjà vu. Your brow furrows. You’ve come to be accustomed to his intense stares through the months you’ve known him, but this one was… strange. It was as if he was trying to look deep into the fabric of your soul, even without the use of the Aether Core in his eye. His face remains a blank and indecipherable mask, leaving you with no indication of what he’s thinking of. You wanted to know what was going on in that unfathomable mind of his.

Longing. Trepidation. Yearning, a yearning that aches and makes you want to answer its call. You become distantly aware of emotions trickling into you that weren’t your own. You didn’t realize you were resonating with Sylus until he severed it, the hand holding yours shifting to catch your wrist instead. He leans down to brush his soft lips against it before letting your hand rest gently on your stomach.

“How about you recover from your fever first before you use your evol, sweetie.” He laughs softly, the red-gold brilliance of your evols intertwined fading from your hands.

“Oh, sorry.”

His presence in your mind and by your side was so natural that you weren’t even aware of when you began resonating with him. It seemed like your body responded to your desires even while your mind lagged behind. That brief glimpse into him enabled you to decipher that emotion in his eyes, though you struggle to make sense of it.

It was hope.

“Never apologize to me. What else do you remember?” he asks quietly, before you can puzzle over it further.

You close your eyes, willing the memories of the fleeing dream forward. The golden light of a setting sun. The crisp cold of mountainous air. The feeling of being the only two creatures in the world. And, inexplicably, the feeling of home.

“We were up in the air flying, somehow, before we landed in that blossoming valley. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I felt like I was in a whole other world. When I turned around to look at you, I saw you sitting there amongst the flowers. Red, like shining rubies. Red like-” you pause, the words at the tip of your tongue. A silhouette appears in your mind’s eye, before it sinks back into the void.

“Red, like rich wine,” you finish, though you know that’s not what you had wanted to say.

When he said nothing, you continued on. “I decorated you with those flowers. We were so carefree, unworried and relaxed. It was just us, no one else, in the valley that was our playground. I think I was teasing you, or maybe you were teasing me. You said something about seeing the other side of things, something taunting. We ended up play-fighting, rolling around and sending petals up in the air.”

You smile, the warmth of the dream enveloping you.

“It felt so real.” You wanted it to be real, this lovely lush field and this gorgeous, monstrous Sylus.

Monstrous?

Startled out of your reverie, you blink open your eyes. No, there is nothing monstrous about Sylus. Not anymore, not since those first few nights that you’ve met him so long ago. Shaking your head slightly to dispel the thought, you turn your head to glance at him, realizing he hasn’t spoken in a while.

His eyes are closed, brows furrowed and drawn tightly together. You’ve seen this expression on his face before, briefly, when he struggles to heal a particularly nasty wound. His body is so tense when you reach out to him, muscles taut and rigid beneath your fingers. You’re not quite sure he’s even breathing.

“Sylus?”

At your prompting, Sylus sucks in a breath through his teeth and exhales. He opens his eyes and your breath catches. Rich garnet eyes glow in the darkness, twin wine-dark seas drowning in sorrow, regret. Agony.

It is so at odds to the sweetness of your recounted dream that alarm shot through you, temporarily driving away the sleepiness. Seeing the pain in his eyes unsettled you; it didn’t belong on his face at all. Your sluggish brain tries to make sense of what you could have said to have garnered this reaction. Did you say something wrong? Your chest tightens at the thought of hurting him with your words, somehow. You begin to prop yourself up.

Sylus stops you with one gentle hand, pushing you to lay back down. He silently regards you, the silence between you stretching into something delicate.

There are so many things you want to say, to ask and to comfort. Sylus was never one to let his emotions show as openly as they are right now. You want to ask what was wrong, take back your silly little story if all it gave him was pain, even if you didn’t understand why.

But through the jumble of your fever, all that came out of your tired mouth was, “It was just a dream, Sylus.”

He quietly watches you for a few breaths longer. Slowly, he lifts a hand to gently caresses your cheek, holding you as if you were something as fragile as a memory. Leaning down, he brushes his lips against your forehead, soft as a butterfly’s wings, as the petals of a phantom flower.

“You’re right,” he says, with a grief you cannot fathom.

“It was just a dream, sweetheart.” His voice is barely a whisper. “It can be nothing more than a dream.”

#love and deepspace #lads sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #verridaiya's writing -#yay I did it wooo #second ever fic 🎉#time to write the other parts! which I'm so excited for #there will be comfort I swear #after... one more hurt. just one #I can't help myself #this fic is once again brought to you by: the emotional devastation of beyond cloudfall

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voidsylus · 1 month ago

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sylus can’t ever catch a break

how the fuck did sylus not crash out

so you’re telling me sylus experienced prejudice from being half dragon and half human, witnessed the genocide of his species, taken/beaten and discarded once his horns grew, was attacked daily as he grew into a man and was ultimately killed by the love of his life

THEN in his rebirth was thrown in literally the hunger games as a child with us where we were told we had to kill each other bc there can only be one winner for the sake of entertainment, we tried to escape together but was separated thus was in space time prison for gods knows how long all while looking for us

when sylus finally found us, we were gaia lab rat trapped in the chamber and he freed us from that hell and set in place ways for us to find him

just for us in current timeline to head to the n109 zone not remembering a single thing about the man where there is no love purer than his yet through all these years, hardship and so much waiting, sylus remains to be the gentlest most beautiful patient man whose soul longs for his other 10.5 grams

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starmocha · 7 months ago

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Things about Sylus' myth that fucked me up so bad I have been in a catatonic state for the last 10 hours:

SPOILERS FOR SYLUS' MYTH - BEYOND CLOUDFALL & MAIN STORY

Sylus never knowing joy, grew up not fully understanding what he is/accepting himself.

Young Sylus cutting off his own horns and tail repeatedly

Sylus witnessing a dragon genocide of his kinds and became the last surviving dragon on the planet

Sylus being fated to be killed by his archnemesis who is also the love of his life

Sylus' curse is to kill his beloved

Sylus' birth name is Stayrus - 'Sylus' is the name MC gives him 🥺

MC playing the requiem Sylus likes on an organ

MC singing that same requiem Sylus likes even as she is being executed

In Continuous Symphony, Sylus says she never finishes this song—it's a requiem for the departed, she doesn't want to play it for him, especially since in that scene, he is gravely injured because of her

MC made up the whole scene of Abyssal Blossom as a coping mechanism

She dreams that they had never left the chapel and are living a humble domestic life together away from the world

MC cursing Sylus' soul, damning him to live forever, for his soul to never fade away. He will only be able to die at her hands. Only she can grant him "a true death."

Essentially, the myth starts with Sylus being destined to die at MC's hands, and it ends with her cursing his soul to only die at her hands.

This is why the Sylus in the main story can't die. He can only die by MC's hands.

Remembering how Sylus looked pleased when MC threatened to kill him in Long-Awaited Revelry - it wasn't because he knew he couldn't die, but he hoped she would kill him finally.

He didn't die in LAR because when he forced her to pull the trigger, she cried out, "No!" which presumably negated the original curse.

The Evol Linkage is most likely related to either BC!MC's curse and/or the bond she and Sylus had formed before his death

Oh my god..... kindred spirits truly 😭😭😭 kissing the inside of her wrist 😭😭😭 💖 devotion 💖

When you realize Sylus' title "The Cursed One" is because it was MC who cursed him to live forever, to always be tied to her—forever

Sylus' love of music stemmed from MC in Beyond Cloudfall. We're not allowed to make fun of his singing anymore - our dragon baby can sing to his heart's content and y'all can just wear noise-canceling headphones - as ordained by me

Sylus and BC!MC being unable to escape their destiny. Sylus didn't want to give in to his instincts. MC didn't want to summon the greatsword. Everything happened against their will.

The implication that BC!MC had to have died somehow for our current MC to exist - she became a dragon in the end, returning to the same valley Sylus was in, but how did she die? Broken heart? Killed? Old age?

She is reborn again 🥺

"My dragon" - "My beloved" 🥺💔

Just... this...

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads — beyond cloudfall #lads — long-awaited revelry #lnds spoilers #lads spoilers #lnds ramblings #misery loves company #and i want everyone to suffer with me #💔💔💔💔💔

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m1nsur0 · 1 month ago

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my stayrus design HC

#sweet boy should have a bigger nose bump long hair and monolids #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace #lads #lads sylus #dragon sylus #beyond cloudfall #stayrus #l&ds #l&ds sylus #artists on tumblr #digital illustration #digital art #m1nsur0

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deepspacenova · 2 months ago

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HE LOOKS SO AT PEACE WHAT A HAPPY DRAGON

#HE SAID DRAGON I REPEAT HE SAID DRAGON #SURROUNDED BY DRAGON BONES?! AHHH #beyond cloudfall references all over again #oh i love him SOOO #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace

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lunarclawz · 5 months ago

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— Sylus and Cats.

I wanted to explain a bit more about how cats and the nickname "kitten" are actually very important and related to his backstory.

First off, spoiler warning in case you haven't played his myth, and to also warn that a part of this will be a theory and speculation based on his myth, other cards and information we have gathered.

For starters, the first mention of cats In his myth, this was said by MC, but as we saw, he can almost know what she's thinking— it could also simply be a coincidence.

Just as how he does in the current timeline, she's is compared to an aggressive cat. She reminds him of one.

Second mention, it's obviously not stated if he saw her as a cat at that very moment, but perhaps this can sort of confirm it.

Here it is implied he brought the cat himself, this happened not long after he was released, this is my thoughts only but, maybe before he was locked on the Abyss, he might had past interactions with cats hence why he brought one to her or/and because he sees a resemblance between the two. Signalling that he can feel emotions— such as empathy.

Now we start to get a little bit more symbolic, we know that the Legion of Justitia it's made solely by orphans, they are locked away and trained to become dreamless, mindless creatures living only for the purpose of war, they cannot have any other beliefs than the ones given by the Sanctuary. If they do, it could lead to execution.

Sylus happens to mention that her soul is dull, she has no desires, or at least she suppresses them, no dreams or ambitions to follow, all because she was locked in a cage. She's imprisoned not only by the Oracle but by herself.

As she struggles to find a way out of his lair, he observes, watches her attempt with no success.

This cat very well represents MC past self, before meeting her dragon, waiting for him just as she did before her sentence. Talking to an obsidian figurine— one that ignited a fire inside of her to desire.

Almost as if it was fate, the burning figurine allowed her to break free, to meet the world beyond of those walls, something that cat was desperate for.

She hid herself, her dream of curiosity, her right to wonder. She mentions being held by threads, keeping her captive, a prisoner with a mind that cannot be suppressed.

But when she meets him, she meets the other side of the coin, the pinnacle of greed. Yet she sees it as something pure, only the twisted minds are the ones that manage to corrupt the beautiful concept of desire. The wish of something more than just monotony, the wish to see, know—explore the world that lays at her hand.

He opens her world, he frees the cat out of the cage and shows her how life is supposed to be.

She's no longer who she was, she's not a house cat, she's now a mountain cat, a cat that can roam freely. One that can wish for, and of course he will grant it. He gives her the stability she needs to explore the world for herself, he will set her free but he will always wait with a warm bed for her to return. Guarding her by the distance as she does what she pleases.

Maybe it's because he felt the same, forced to be locked away, a barrier standing within his human shape and dragon form, something he never wished for, isolating himself out of fright.

Yet he met her, consoling the fractured heart in his core, they always needed each other, to see beyond their limitations, to be set free.

He's constantly reminding her of how now she resembles a dragon, care free and beautiful. Breaking that fear.

The cat resembles her if she never met the dragon, it grew complacent. A enslaved cat, a house cat, a cat without its desire to roam. Never attempting to question the cage that locked it— perhaps didn't even see it anymore.

Current Timeline.

In some cards, we see mentioned that he takes care of stray cats, cats that roam freely and come back for his aid. Perhaps he likes this, he can't trap someone, he can't suppress their dreams, they must leave and discover by their own hand.

"Kitten" is an omen of the day he set her free.

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glitch-but-ya · 6 months ago

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The echo of who I once was. II

"Let your memory of me fade with time" II

TAGS: Mentions of violence and death, dysphoria, mental health struggles.

WORD COUNT: 2,543 words Tag list: @withering-dream , @moonlight-inthe-sea A/N: For better understanding, I’d recommend reading Sylus’s anecdotes.

PART 1 PART 3

!THIS STORY IS HEAVILY DEPENDENT ON "BEYOND CLOUDFALL" AND MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS!

Memories are both a curse and a blessing, don’t you think? That which gives us strength to push through the darkest parts of our lives can also be the one to drive us to the very edge of the cliff. The weight of them feels like a chain coiled around your throat, binding you to your past. Neither of us can escape destiny. But still, I wonder what would happen if neither of our memories were restored. Would you love me then? Or was I destined to never be yours?

Sylus didn’t know the answer. He kept reading.

When you told me that you loved me, I felt happy. I know how mundane that sounds. But when you said that I was yours, I felt as if my life suddenly had purpose. All my years of hardship had led me to you, and I was content. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was worth something—worth someone’s attention, worth living for. That’s why I couldn’t let you go—I couldn’t let go of the chance to live. I’m sorry.

He knows.

My selfishness, combined with this newfound sense of euphoria, led me to cling to you desperately and overwhelm you with my presence. I completely overlooked the obvious hints you threw at me occasionally, all because I wanted to believe that you loved me. I was scared. I thought that if I were to take notice, you’d abandon me, and I’d lose you. This is not an excuse, but simply an explanation. Whether you forgive me or not, well… I wouldn’t know anyway.

Sylus took a sip from his glass.

I don’t expect us to meet again.

He doesn’t either.

And that’s why, I want to tell you everything, so I can leave without regrets. Forgive me. This is the last selfish act I’ll perform.

Sylus set the envelope down, sealing it back with admirable precision. He threw his head back against the headboard and sighed. He couldn’t believe he let the aether core slip away. And he couldn't believe he couldn't find it in himself to reshape you into another form. In every possibility, you'd come around eventually. So why did he feel as helpless as a sculptor standing before his own crumbling statue? A part of him knew that you couldn't be changed. You loathed your former self, he could tell.

And to add to his frustration, he simply did not have time for this. He was due to a ‘business’ trip within the N109 zone—his presence was required at a seemingly ordinary auction trafficking illegal protocores. The leader of Onychinus was a busy man, after all. How could he let emotions overwhelm him when so much in his life depended on his nonchalance? He was a fool for thinking he could reform you. He had mistaken you for gold. Unfortunately, as softhearted as you were, you couldn’t be molten and hammered into what he wanted you to be. But he couldn’t deny that it was also partially his fault because he knew.

‘Please kill me.’

From the moment he used his aether core to listen in on your desires, he knew that you’d already lost what made you his sorceress. The heart that once yearned for bloodshed and vengeance was now reduced to a blubbering mess, waiting for the day it’d stop beating. The voices that once wished to claim his authority were replaced by a feeble, pitiful voice. You were weak and untainted, like the humans he hunted down for a couple of gold to add to his collection. And yet, a part of him held on. He didn’t know what it was. Denial, he assumed. The inability to accept that his beloved was no more. Or perhaps it was the guilt of injustice being done upon you. He had barely scratched the surface of your desires, after all. Perhaps there was more that lay beyond your wish to die. But whatever it was, it wasn’t her. Listening to your voice for longer wouldn’t bring her back. Even so, letting you go wasn’t the wisest choice either.

After all, his relationship with you served two purposes: love (formerly) and the aether core. Now, he’d lost the chance to claim both. All because he let his emotions take hold. Sylus felt pathetic. And for the first time, he doubted his own abilities. He was torn between the choice of taking the leap and bringing you back, and staying on the other end of the crumbling bridge to wait and see how things would unfold from here. The chance of another aether core existing on this planet was slim.

But not entirely impossible.

Sylus’s form loomed over the city below, his crimson eyes gazing into its depths. Lights dotted the cityscape in irregular patterns. A full moon hung proudly in the sky, almost as if welcoming his arrival. There was a crow perched on his shoulder. The crow had ruby eyes, quite similar to his own. Behind him stood two smaller, masked men, ready to obey his orders. A familiar wind howled past them—a dry breeze lacking warmth and life, carrying nothing but dust, reminiscent of the way you had hollowed out something within him. He stood, eyeing the crowds below. Not long after, he raised his head, gazing at the sky awash in hues of red. This auction was an incubator for human desires—greed, gluttony, and lust.

“Is everything ready?”

“Yes, boss!”, they chanted in unison. A slight smirk tugged at Sylus’s lips. Of course, he wouldn’t have attended such a low-class auction if something hadn’t caught his watchful eye. This time, what appeared was exactly what he sought. A valuable gem, a treasure eclipsing the finest of its kind—a certain aether core had been passed around insignificant auctions under the guise of an ordinary protocore. It had caught the attention of several other corporations, excluding his own. This time, the stakes were high, and failure could have severe consequences. He could lose everything. But did it really matter anymore? The only reason for his stay in this world was you. If he simply wished, he could start over on a planet far from yours, where he could live his life as a relentless conqueror, unbothered and undisturbed by your curse.

Sylus's hand unconsciously traveled to his eye—the very eye 'you' wished to claim so dearly. He grazed it with his fingers.

Sylus... I curse your soul...

He clenched his eyes shut.

Only I can grant you a true death.

He knew that the aether core in your heart wasn't the only one of its kind aside from his own. Surely, there existed another one somewhere across the cosmos. But that was the problem. Throughout the endless tapestry of planets, universes, and possibilities, where would he search? And amidst the legion of life forms across worlds, how could he be sure that his sovereignty surpassed all others? Earth was, by far, the easiest land to graze. So he couldn’t let go of this opportunity. Not yet.

If it were him a few months ago, the mere idea of leaving Earth would have torn him apart. But now, if the aether core slipped from his grasp, he would wander aimlessly until he caught wind of a new sighting. Perhaps, it was all a grand scheme of his own to escape you. Sylus had never fled from anything before.

His hands gripped the railing. It wasn’t the time to daydream. There was an opening laid out for him in plain sight. One rightfully timed strike and the aether core was his. His gaze scrutinized the large building before him, where the auction would take place.

Your words both held him back and urged him forward. A lovesick side of him cried out, begging him to open his eyes and try to understand the changes that had occurred. But his wrath would not let him. How dare you? After all these years of searching, after all the sacrifices he'd made, after all the pain he had endured in your place—how dare you betray him like this? Eventually, one arose triumphant. Very well, then. If you were going to leave, then so be it. He would let you have your way.

Taking a sharp breath, Sylus descended.

A sigh escaped your lips. You eyed yourself in the bathroom mirror, your hair falling like a veil over your face. Tracing the dips and curves of your body, you felt alien to yourself—flawed, unfamiliar. The incessant drip of water trickling down played monotonously in the background of your thoughts. You felt flawed. You couldn’t recognize yourself in the mirror.

Your hand shot out. Your fingers caressed your own figure, who stared back at you. "Who was I before this?" you whispered, your head tilting slightly. "You were me, weren't you? Then why…" Your hand stilled. The finger pressed down on the reflection of your face with increasing pressure. "I hate you. So why do I wish to be you?"

That night, you couldn’t squeeze in even a second of sleep. Something within you ached. You didn’t know if it was the wrathful throb in your head or the melancholic sting in your heart. Every time you shut your eyes, a figure emerged from the darkness. A white-haired woman with scarlet eyes and sharp features. She looked nothing like you. The mere sight of her formed a lump in your chest. Her face radiated mock cruelty and greed, like a simmering pot of rotting wine; disgusting and bubbling. Her form was hauntingly elegant, almost ethereal—if not for the maggots writhing beneath her skin. An ever-present source of desire seethed from within her soul. It stank like the decaying flesh of a dead rabbit. Her soul reeked of the miserable fixations of humanity, the same delusions that transformed humans into harbingers of destruction. She was the type to bring death upon those she deemed unworthy, to burn whoever she pleased, and to warm the few who stood by her side. She was like a blazing, crackling fire that emerged from a hearth set alight by its own gluttony and greed. She was utterly human. There was no other word to describe it. She was exactly who you loathed: an usurper wrapped in a cloak of fragile beauty.

She didn’t just occupy your sleep. Even at work, you found yourself subconsciously drawn to the thought: How could she ever be you? You couldn’t fathom it. Even in a past life, the thought of yourself turning out like her seemed inconceivably alien. You figured that if there were a past incarnation of you, she would resonate with you as if she were an extension of yourself. But every time you lingered on her memory, you felt increasingly isolated. The harder you tried to reach out, the further she drifted—like a small boat being pushed farther from a warship. The larger ship's mighty waves pushed the boat farther and farther, no matter how desperately the boat rowed toward it. Although, the main concern was staying afloat. Your main concern should’ve been the aether core. Wasn’t that why you stayed? Was it truly because of love, and not the opportunity to extract information about the aether core from Sylus? You couldn’t believe yourself. For a moment, you wondered, how could you let the aether core slip away?

Your grip on your desk tightened, your knuckles turning white. The voices around you blurred into one until the only thing you could hear were the whispers of your own destructive mind spitting venom into your ears. Captain Jenna’s voice diminished in importance, and you found yourself focusing more on the thought of her.

After experiencing the dream of your past, her sight plagued your mind. Sometimes, she was clad in jewels (all while she reeked of greed). Other times, she was driving the greatsword into the dragon's chest. You couldn’t deny that if she hadn’t fought back, she probably wouldn’t have lived long enough to become the dragon's beloved. Whereas you would’ve been killed taking a different approach. You are grateful for her unwavering will to live, and you are grateful that she brought Sylus into your life.

But what you could never forgive was the image of herself she carved into his heart. The powerful ‘sorceress’ feared by all, the young dragon fledgling whose horns had just begun to sprout—how he could worship that, you wondered. She was just a weaker version of himself. Perhaps she possessed something you couldn’t see. Either way, what was the point of lingering on this matter? There’s no use in assigning blame. No matter how ferociously you loathe her, she will always occupy his heart. Revenge has no purpose. It only initiates endless suffering and a cycle of inflicting pain. All you could do was move on with your life. You weren’t going to meet him again, anyway. Or so you thought.

"And you will be going to the N109 zone," Captain Jenna began, breaking your trance with a simple sentence and jolting you awake. "Any queries?" she concluded. You weren’t sure how you looked. Looking back, you probably should’ve asked Tara to hold a mirror to your face. You must’ve looked aggravatingly stupid. Like an imbecile who had just hopped into the wrong room. Perhaps Sylus's talk about "destiny" and "fate" wasn’t just to sound wise and philosophical. You were seriously wondering how fate could’ve stabbed you in the back like this. Your vow to Sylus would be broken due to a silly mission. How comical.

But you couldn’t just accept this, of course. So, after the meeting had ended, you walked into Jenna’s office.

"There is nobody more capable of pulling off this mission than you." Fate must really be playing games with you, huh? "But, Captain…" you opened your mouth to protest, but were quickly silenced by Jenna’s sharp gaze. "You’ve been to the N109 zone, haven’t you? And you came back alive. This isn’t just any mission—it’s critical. We need someone who can handle the pressure. Someone familiar with the dangers." Her gaze scanned your form. "This mission is not only dangerous but extremely vital. That is why I will be pairing you with Xavier. Only the two of you can execute this mission flawlessly." You tilted your head curiously. You zoned out during the meeting, so you could only assume it was something related to the aether core. What else could be so vital as to require the best hunter on board? But if Xavier is with you, perhaps you can find an excuse to steer clear of Sylus. Not that you expect him to show himself to you openly, but letting him know that you’re here with a hunter only accentuates that you are here strictly for business. Although you don’t want Xavier to be caught up in this, this mission may lead you to crucial knowledge about your very own aether core. You looked down and placed a hand where your heart would be. You couldn’t let this chance slip away.

"So, I believe the two of you won’t disappoint," the Captain said, turning to you, her chin raised high. You immediately straightened your posture and cleared your throat. "Yes, ma’am."

Hello!! I wanted to say: thank you so much for your votes regarding the previous fic! Although I’d intended to keep it as an ‘angst-with-no-comfort’ oneshot, I decided against it due to some people commenting on how a part two would be great (I couldn’t resist writing the story anyway. I had a plan for it in my head beforehand which I’d intended to keep to myself. The comments only fuelled that desire further). I do hope this doesn’t end up becoming a major flop. I apologize for the time it took to write this much. I’ve been very busy lately; unfortunately, I do not see myself having free time in the future either. But I’ll try my best to keep up with this! Oh, and, for the people who want to keep viewing the initial ending as it was, you can! I understand that some people may not be happy with this series. So, you are free to interpret it as you wish! I had multiple endings planned for this anyway. And, YES! The title of the series has officially been changed.

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aeyumicore · 7 months ago

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slight sylus myth spoiler and sylus misty invasion - lost oasis spoiler!

i noticed there’s a slight parallel in sylus’s myths part 3 & to the lost oasis memory when mc asks sylus what it was like when he grew his horns he avoids her gaze and says “….It was nothing special.”

in lost oasis there is a somewhat paralleled conversation, where mc asks sylus “what about your world? what was your life like as a kid?”

and he says “nothing special. i struggled to survive.”

this REALLY STOOD OUT TO ME, i think it was because i mulled over this line so heavily when i wrote lost oasis but wow the fucking beauty of sylus’s myths….

it doesn’t help that the conversation is literally followed up with

mc: “i never imagined that one day, we’d be sitting in a place like this. having discussions about the world.”

sylus: “do you think we’re talking about the same world?”

bonus when sylus literally says later in lost oasis

[im thinking about what you were like before you became the N109 zone’s sylus]

“i wasn’t any different from the role you had me play today—a monster more terrifying than a wanderer.”

#✧.˖ aeyumi muses #✧.˖ aeyumi's lnds obsession #sylus #sylus qin #qin che #sylus myths #beyond cloudfall #love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #sylus lnd

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odetodatura · 3 months ago

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[watcher, watching] gargoyle - qin sylus (L&DS)

[The Dragon watches his Sorcerer, the Conqueror watches his Hunter. A series of moments where Sylus watches the object of his intrigue and affections.]

-> Content: Set in the 'Beyond Cloudfall' Myth, Dragon Sylus taking his time to observe humanity, Cohabitating a cave, pre-relationship, developing friendship/relationship, slight scrape wound- no further injuries, Sylus' tail can you tell I love how active his tail is in the myth? (General Audience)

(5.5k) [AO3 link] Interaction and comments always appreciated <3

The Dragon, as the Sorcerer has learnt in their time in his lair, enjoys watching them. Not unlike how the Ivory city cats watched the wild birds from a window ledge; part predaceous fun, part affectionate intrigue.

They first begin to notice it when endeavouring to carve a path up his cave’s rocky walls, a puny knife in hand that he barely remembered the name of. They hold it as steady as they can, chipping slowly towards the open top of his mountain. The stone is unforgiving, and it takes multiple stabs into it to dislodge pebble-sized chunks to the floor. After a few days of this, they take to turning some old ornate rug into a makeshift broom, swiping the scraps of their effort out of the cave and tumbling down to oblivion off the edge. The dragon made no complaints of them utilising his old dusty hoard, only a glance at the scuffle of fabric being wafted open before turning on his little pedestal to observe them rip it into lines, and tie it to a lance- the tip of his tail brushing along the ribbons before following their retreating form in bored intrigue.

The sun is still high as they crouch next to their battered wall, light heating their gleaming skin that flexes with the rhythmic stabs to the lowest hole meant for their foot. Labour and summer heat causes a thin sheen of sweat to settle on their exposed arms and back, with soft gales travelling through the cave mouth behind them mercifully cooling them down. The Dragon avoids the sun in its entirety, leaning against a shaded wall by the mouth, tail flicking lazily over the floor and dipping down off the cliff edge. His endless obsidian scales probably aren’t enjoyable in sunlight, the Sorcerer assumes, recalling how the orphans in the City were only permitted to wear black during detention labour in the courtyards. The endless white marble and rock walkways made it miserable in the hotter months, reflecting and enhancing the heat back to any soul around. His scales in particular seem thick, strong, and are best for short sunbaths well before midday before they absorb too much heat.

With the mortal back into their endless carving after a quick swipe of their arm to brush at their face, he adjusts his broad shoulders ever so slight during his continued staring. Eyes follow flexing biceps and rippling muscle under skin, moving towards the knife that pistons into aged rock. A speck of sweat flies off towards him, and he licks his lips to taste it in the air like a snake. Saltier than yesterday. They must not be drinking much water still, he makes a note to himself to bring some full skins up by their work station overnight. It would be a shame for them to slow down from exhaustion now that they're quickly learning how best to hold the blade, how best to utilise their striking force.

Chip, chip, chip; they continue on, fuelled by a desire to prove themselves capable. The knife takes clean arches like a scythe in a wheat field, and the metal stays strong against constant battering. They find their mind wandering, the gaze of their cave companion is hardly insignificant. It's as if his eyes leave physical imprints on where they land, dragging across their form with the same weight of his tail. Every time they navigate his little labyrinth after that little bite of his, he trails after, one of his senses always honed in on them.

He joins them soon after they pop down to the pile of fruits within his main treasure room in the mornings; blood red pomegranates and cherries blend with scattered Rubies, royal purple grapes mingle with Sugilite nuggets. They sit opposite each other, his massive tail curling all the way around them across the breakfast blankets and sometimes gently flicking a stray fruit near their crossed legs when the wind causes it to tumble like a weed. He does not partake in eating, sometimes pinching a grape from them just before their own fingers grab it, a little smirk tossed at them at their instinctual ‘tsk’ before tossing it to them to catch. He watches them as they wash their sugary hands in a small bowl of water. He watches as they dry their hands in the midst of standing with some tiny scrap of fabric they found from a treasure box. He watches as they return his gaze for a moment, before they turn with the grace of a waterfowl to the room they whittle away in now, and he rises to follow.

With his endless ego and entertainment at their efforts like a cat who's got a mouse’s tail under their claw, they expected some taunting noise from him- perhaps a pitiful huff and a shake of shoulders at the sight. His shadow ripples with a little laugh as they land a weak strike against the rock and the knife almost leaves their grip. But whenever they took a break and cast their eyes to meet his, they found only intrigue. Face even and wholly enraptured at every move of theirs. It was… Odd? Inspiring? Pleasant? The fact that he sits with the intent to see them make progress is one that fuels them to reach the moonlight mountain with vigour renewed. He must be playing a game with himself, they conclude on his behalf, a bet on when they'll finally drag themselves up to the flat mountain ridge. A couple of weeks, they again decide for him, is what he thinks they need to complete their quest. Their mind’s version of him is wrong though, they huff, they'll show him how he underestimates them. Another swipe at the brow as they stand to stretch their screaming back, with the most coincidental glance back they can muster. His eyes quickly snap to theirs, and they see him slowly blink his eyes out of sync- first the left, then the right, like a rolling wave between them.

The sorcerer decides they don't want to think of the implications of such a relaxed stare, how a predator like him takes this in leisurely. A swift flick of their right hand is made as the thick dagger is repositioned to deepen the first foot-hole as they break eye contact first. It digs in nicely, hollowing out the space for their foot to raise up after finding purchase, and in the strong light that adorns the cave from behind them- they see a somewhat approving flick of a strong tail-tip shadow next to them when they finish their hacking at the wall. A foot is inserted to test their modifications to the foot hold, and the Sorcerer finds it no longer scrapes at the roof when they go one more step up. It makes the next foot hold seem worse than before, but not tauntingly so. One sturdy result means the others can be made the same. They take a brief look down to check the pile of scraps on the floor won't jeopardise their drop back down before making the small fall. A tiny ‘oof’ emerges as they place their feet on the ground, pushing the smallest pebbles away with stray gusts and nudging a few others as they steady themselves. A hand purchase sits level with their face now, one that's been annoyingly difficult to work with since they first started.

The scorpion-esque tip’s shadow sits angled to the by of the Sorcerer’s ire, deadly still at the edge of the hollow. It draws their attention, and their head shifts to centre gaze on the dark projection. It starts waving ever so slightly when it knows it’s being watched. Slow and mesmerising like a snake heading the call of a charmer, it swishes along the bottom edge of the dent. He's tracing a guideline for the base of the hollow, they figure out. A few moments pass like that, the wind blowing gently. It carries his scent to her, heavy with the boysenberries he had been bringing to his fruit piles. They delight in it for a moment before they move leftward to avoid their body blocking out the tail’s silhouette, marking the path that the tail takes with light scraps. It retreats as she makes the final swipe it guided her to, curling low before settling on the shaded ground. One short nod is offered in thanks before they turn away from him fully. Meticulous in their efforts the knife gently digs further, wanting to not waste the help given. The rest of the day passes in relative monotony, the shadowy tail at most weaves up and down from the ground with no task at hand, and the Sorcerer makes good progress along their vertical path. They end up securing six good quality purchases into the wall by the time the light from beyond the dusky clouds filters ambers through the cave. A gentle toss of their trusty dagger flings onto a pillow they dragged here, gemstones tinted red in the sunset.

A first, second, and then a third flex of their hands unravels the tension from hours of gripping the knife’s hilt, sweet relief at the stretch of knuckles and joints before they thrust a hand into a hollow. It’s significantly easier this time round, multiple steps made with no scrapes and easy pushes upwards. Even when they pass the refined hollows to the further ones that scarce provide any hold. A few more upward paces are made towards a natural platform halfway up the wall.. It’s nothing terribly large, probably enough to fit half of that lounging Dragon’s reclining form with the tail entirely off, but it’s more than enough for them.

The last few feet however have no carved indents, and they have to rely on natural jags in the wall to try and forge on further. The moving sunset and its angled light make it difficult to ascertain where hands can be slotted, and with waning strength from calculating where to next go, the Sorcerer lunges upwards for a small indent in the wall. It’s a sharp and pointed movement, like a grasshopper fleeing danger into a frog’s maw. But the lunge lands, and they dangle from a clawing hand whilst desperately digging their feet. Slowly, and carefully, they let a wavering sigh leave their mouth as they move their other arm over with great effort. The double-handed grip alleviates some strain, evening it ever so slightly, and they shuffle awkwardly with tiny movements of the fingers. A breath in, out, in, out; they steady themselves, arms locked straight and jaw set with equal intensity.

Just as their hand shuffles an inch to the right a small, hoping to widen their purchase, a ‘crrk’ noise snaps through the air. Everything stops, as does their previously steadied breath, and they jostle in their precarious suspension. There's no visible hairline crack from their low point of view, but just past a trembling finger, a tiny stone dislodges itself and tumbles along her knuckles before-

Snap.

The feeling of gravity is immediate, it lurches through their stomach and it feels like their organs no longer sit snug against one another. Flailing fingers do nothing as the protruding spike has already fractured from its craggy spot, and a yelp comes out from their falling form. There's no grace in the descent, grabbing at the wall like a kitten shoved off a tile roof, with some rapid brushes against unforgiving rocks scraping harsh against desperate hands. Skin breaks easy and specks of blood and pink skin sting in the air. Scarlet droplets form in time with the thundering heartbeat enveloping their senses, and hands quickly draw inwards in defence. The tiniest flickers of neat hollows race past their line of sight and they know there's not long before the floor gives their tailbone a bruise for days. Eyes squeeze shut to brace for impact, before a coiling mass curls meets them before the ground could.

The Sorcerer doesn’t turn, doesn’t move as their chest begins to heave from the adrenaline that permeates their muscle and bone. In and out, in and out. They chant like a mantra to themselves when they recognise no pain from an impact, and they slowly recoil their arms to above their chest to rest against their raging heart. A slow press to the chest, and one final breath in before they start to shift. The newly familiar tail sits around their like a boa constrictor under their back and knees, with its unbelievable length allowing the tip to weave back upwards and dangle in front of them. One hand grasping a dangerous spine on the outside, and the other wrapping around the softer under-scales, they blink slowly until interrupted by a rumbling noise. It erupts from the Dragon’s chest, even and earthy, a call to attention. It successfully snaps the Sorcerer out of their daze as they turn around and look vaguely upwards and behind. They meet that same even gaze, sturdy and curious, with his head slightly tilted towards them. They note his body is suspended at the end of a lunge, semi-sideways with one leg bent in front of the other. It’s clear he reacted in good time, but the distance between his lounging spot and the wall to the open air was a tight distance to cross against her fall. He makes it, regardless. He catches them, regardless.

His head slowly returns to an upright position, gliding backwards with the fluidity of an owl, and his back straightens, the Sorcerer moving along with his relaxing form. They’re given a second acknowledging noise, lighter in tone than the previous one- a slight trill with the lower notes missing. It reminds them of bird song, echoing with itself along his thick neck. The Dragon sweeps his carmine eyes over them, and the Sorcerer recognises it as self-satisfaction of the state they're in. They’re slowly lowered down by him, clothed rear softly setting down on the cave floor as the comforting coil of the tail untangles itself from them. Though it remains around them even as they settle their weight, a comforting hold. One hand gently lets go once a spinal spike begins to glide from their fingertips, and the other offers no resistance against the soft under-scales. The sensation is nice, smooth and uniform under their still hand, and they note he doesn’t flick away from their hands at all. The tail tip drags slightly against their back as he stands at full height and withdraws the limb entirely, sending a pleasant shiver up their spine. Just a smidge calmer, and the seated mortal would’ve noticed the tiny flash of a pleased smile at their reaction. The Dragon breaks their eye contact first, gaze fluttering to the other’s scraped hands before speaking.

“There are some old little bottles somewhere in one of my piles,” He drawls whilst adjusting to lean on a leg and scrutinise his claws in faux-nonchalance, “Carried by some foolish thieves who thought they’d live to lick the wounds gained from me.” A jerk of his head signals he’s talking of their slightly bloody fingers. “Just do me a favour and use them outside, they’re terribly pungent things.”

He doesn’t get the immediate response he wants, and looks up from his nail picking to see them in the middle of blowing gently on their own hands. He watches with vigilance, and notes the slight wobbling of their lips as the wind hits a patch of raw skin between the base of their fingers on the palm. One flex of the hands, then another, and they shift to a kneeling position before standing and turning to face him. Watery eyes rapidly blink away a small sheen of tears as they adjust to face him, as he stands against the amber sun outside of their cave. It glows and burgeons on the sharp edges of his scales, catches on his molten veins. A few weeks back, this sight would've been the pinnacle of what was taught to be danger. But the hulking Fiend in front of them embodies none of that. His body, a tower of flesh and sharp hematite, stands poised to protect. Whilst it is a fools monologue to discredit or wave off his abilities of destruction and chaos, his actions speak of an equal capability to protect and foster. It is that dichotomy that allows his offer of a salve to land so smoothly, the Sorcerer squints to get a better look at his shadowed face and twists their head like a curious dog. “And just how am I to open some old glass bottle like this?” They wave their hands forward in his direction, shaking them slightly, and his eyes rapidly dart in sync with their movements. “Unless you want these to get worse before they get better. Or get blood all over the place.” The words come out half-petulant, half-teasing, and they point a finger towards his impassive expression. Still focused on their hands, he lets out another huff, before playfully swatting their arm down with his tail. The pesky appendage continues to wag and sway between them wafting air upwards in waves.

“Well,” The Dragon drawls out with a slight purr. “Not all of your delicate little fingers are useless, are they?” His clawed feet tap with each step, slowly circling around them with his chin raised. “Hardly some insurmountable task when I’ve already saved you from that untimely demise. Or do you want me to kiss it better once your humble chamberlain licks your wounds for you, your Highness?” A deep chuckle resounds in the cave, acoustics seemingly warped to echo his voice perfectly, and it sends a pleasant sensation through the Sorcerer's head. He rounds behind them cleanly, swift movements blowing their hair forwards as a strand tickles their lips. He lets out another laugh at how they tense at the proximity a smidge, clearing their throat before twirling to face him and place a pace between their bodies. Only part of his form is shaded now, the crown of their head leaving a dark silhouette just below his lips, and they are made all too aware of how the warm light enhances his roguish looks.

Soft blanched hair sways like a willow, edges tinted coral and citrine. It tickles his forehead, landing just by his sharp brows, hiding the tails like a juvenile fox scurrying in the underbrush, emboldening the sharp red of his eyes. Hawk-like, they think, alert and confident to even the slightest of movement in front of him- crinkling in mirth as he permits the ogling. A preener as well, angling himself to encompass more of their line of sight, privy to some sort of bodily reaction the human mind is not attuned to in from them. A loud and theatrical clearing of the throat snaps the Sorcerer to attention, and they shake themselves whilst recalling whatever smooth words just came out of the handsome man’s mouth moments ago.

“A…. Charming offer, terribly so.” They start with a stumble with a slight blush, “ But most healers require qualifications to tend to others.” A pause to give a sassy up-and-down of the Dragon, “Do you have one?” They probe, emphasis on the second word. A roll of the eyes and a ‘tsk’ makes it clear he finds the rebuttal unsatisfactory.

“And why would I care for some silly little mortal’s opinions on my healing capabilities. Last time I heard what your kind were working on, those faith healers were prattling on about cracking open the skull to fix a headache. But I’m more than happy to apply that theory to your hands.” He says with a slightly sinister smile, crossing the gap in half a step. “Pass me whichever hand pleases you, and I can poke a little hole to see if they were right.” His teeth are visible from between his lips and they glimmer wet in the sun, elongated canines catching a dangerously sharp ray.

It doesn't unnerve them though, they know well enough by now his habit of play-intimidation when a conversation needs spicing, and they jut their head forward to meet him.

“Alright then.” Their hand raises palm forward to his eye level, and his gaze easily flits back to them once more, smile calmly retreating. His form follows, straightening back up from his lean to bare his teeth close and gently grabs their wrist. Two strong claws pinch them, and rotate it back and forth to his contentment, before he removes his hand with even more care and turns back into the dim caverns. Heavy and calm footsteps resound his entire walk, and the Sorcerer hears some jumble of grumbles and clanking before the steps begin their return journey. His tail swooshes low, a fabric bag held within a curved spine at the end, clinking noises at the end of each swing. Instead of stopping in front of them he continues past them to the craggy cave entrance, and sets the bag down where the wind travels away from the lair. His arched nose crinkles as he moves away from them, and sends a quirked eyebrow to the Sorcerer before walking past them yet again to sit down against the hole-punched wall.

His gargantuan tail spikes end up effortlessly carving into the wall like a hot blade through butter, and they feel an eyebrow twitch at the ease this giant of a man has at making clean incisions that took them hours. A small huff of hair moves a strand of hair that landed on their face after the tumble and they see him watch them turn away to approach the beige leather pouch sitting alone on the cliff's edge. Mindful of his confirmed sensitivity to the smell, they sit with their back to him and legs dangling like reeds over the rocks, before fiddling with the loose string tie. Strained fingers still slightly taught from the dried blood plasma tremble slightly in getting the opening wide, and in favour of being kind to their sore hands they shake the bottles onto their trousers. There’s only three in there, simple glass things with cork seals. The liquids slosh thinly like soapy water, and they each have different levels of opacity. They leave the least-transparent two to remain on their lap as the leather satchel is placed behind them to not get blown away like a leaf in the wind.

Using one hand to gingerly hold the bottle and the other to grip onto the dry seal, the pesky thing wiggles after a fair bit of effort, and the Sorcerer’s face scrunches up like a babe being fed a lemon for the first time. It causes them to recoil, sinuses on fire and eyes watering, even after extending their arms as far out as possible into the wind the urge to cough overwhelms them. Thick and strong enough to feel like their bones rattle in getting that smell out of their lungs, they push their head into their shoulder and breathe in through the filtration of linen fabric. The stinging in the eyes dulls eventually and with a final exhale and shake of the head, a snorting chuckle is finally noticed. A quizzical brow is rapidly whirled at the Dragon swinging a metal chain around his tail tip, and he has the gall to keep going under their scrutiny.

“Anything you'd like to share with the class?” Is pointedly said to him, eyes thinned and lips pouted. It does nothing but rouse another infuriatingly handsome smirk to his lips, shrugging his broad shoulders and crossing his arms across his exposed chest pushing the ruby gem in his chest into the light.

A teasing hum leaves his lips, “Not really, nothing that wouldn’t get you to throw that thing at my head anyways.” The sentence dissolves into a chuckle, clearly amused at the prospect of them batting at him like a hissy kitten, and the Sorcerer turns back when they learn any reaction will be a success to him.

“You could have graced me with the knowledge that this old-” a pause as they scramble for the right word with a twitching nose, “sack of curdled milk was pungent enough to send a cavalryman off of his steed.” A cough interrupts them again, before the ramble continues. “I mean honestly. What on Philos have you given me, some Dung ointment?”

“You can’t tell the difference between Dung and Medicinal Herbs?” The Dragon says in good jest, his laughs having died down, leaving a sweet aftertaste in the dusk glow.

“Quite frankly, I don't think I’ll be able to tell the difference between my left arse cheek and a freshly baked pie after this.”

He likes this, a rumble in his chest signals, and he rips a rectangle of the Sorcerer’s make-shift mop and tosses it to them. It falls right by them, with their hands still outstretched into the wind to avoid inhaling any more concentrated formula. They follow its flight path, and gingerly set down the cork and bottle as far away as possible on the cliff’s edge before picking it up and wrapping it around their nose and mouth. It does enough of a job, no longer feeling their lungs cringe at the slightest inhale of this supposed salve. He watches them unhappily pick up the open bottle, and pour its thin contents into their palm. His nose crinkles again, the smell reaching him this time, and lets out a large huff to clear his lungs.

It pools in their palm, and they move their hands out over their legs to the open air before using it to coat their entire hands, gently washing it into their skin. Thankfully, the relief is almost immediate, and a gentle moan comes from them. A tail they cannot see swishes in response. Acclimated to the salve’s smell, they pick up the other two bottles to place them into the bag they discarded (the heavier contents must be more concentrated versions) and begin a second coating with the thin liquid. Willow bark, they piece together, the last time they had the misfortune of being around this was when some of the faith’s monks came back from some ambush. Nasty wounds, but it quelled the pain like nothing else.

“Thank you.”

A hum is heard in the cave, and they sigh in semi-faux annoyance at his insistence to be detailed on the extent of their thankfulness. They cap the bottle with their hands feeling far better, and swivel to face him criss-cross on the floor, elbows on their knees. He’s still staring, as they resume eye contact. Comfortable against the rock with his impossibly long legs stretched out, tail laid flat.

“Thank you for catching me.” The Sorcerer repeats with fabric still obscuring half their face. “Thank you for the willow bark salve as well. You don’t have the qualifications, but whatever fool of a man in your home did. Or, well, he knew someone who did.” The sentence loses its structure the further they go, and they decide to leave it there before they give the Dragon something to tease them about some other time.

He waves his claw in the air in dismissal, as if he wasn’t the one preening for more. But there's a look in his eyes they recognise from their first day here after they were healed by that innate black-red energy of his before crossing the threshold. The dragon seems to dislike anything of value in his hoard being damaged, either a slight to his collection or himself. It's useful at least, something the Sorcerer can utilise in their cat and mouse game to ensure safety. It’s touching, considerate, they realise. Not enough to sink them into reverie about the Fiend’s intent or nature, but a bittersweet development on how Ivory city treated those ‘useful’. They take the makeshift mask off when the sunset winds have taken the lingering traces of willow bark away, and collect the leather satchel’s closed tie in the hook of their pinkie finger as they rise to walk towards him. Bending down to place it down so as to not shatter any glass, it sits in front of his tail that waves with their approach. They make moves to verbally return it, now that the scrapes are treated enough to heal for when they next take up that dagger to the wall. But his tail-tip picks it up and places it by their stack of tools, dropping it off without even looking.

“No need,” He states, tapping a claw against his leathered knee. “Not like I have any want or need for it.”

“Confident that’s something exclusive to me, are we.”

“I’m not the one taking tumbles from rock climbing now, am I.” His claw points at himself, and jabs extra when he refers to himself.

“I suppose.” The Sorcerer gives in response, face flat.

“You know.” The Dragon finishes in tease, smug air returning. He hauls himself up with ease, his tail just swiping against their shoes as it arches around for counterbalance. The sun is nearly engulfed by the horizon at this point, both bathed in cool light from the setting world. The cold is a tad too much on their still-drying hands and with a scoff they move further into the cave in aim of the piles of furs and quilts they claimed from his hoard. He stands unmoving for a short while, staring at their repeating back before trailing with a distance. He sees them navigate their home with developing ease, dodging the little raises in the rock with ease despite their human eyes preferring a bit more light. He can’t deny the urge to see how easy it would be to try and trip them up with a tail swipe, just a small one.

The Sorcerer doesn't attempt to make conversation, shot out from their digging and falling and complaining for the day being fulfilled, and the Dragon slows his gait to linger in the fork in the road toward the small ‘room’ they’ve taken for themselves. It's an ungraceful tumble into the pile of buffalo skins and bear pelts, and observes the way they sit in such a way to try and catch anything before it catches them out first. A small huff escapes him at the thought that they assume he guards his home so poorly that something else would be able to nab anything from his hoard. There's a single swipe of his tail to signify his passing, a courtesy, before he takes the lone walk back to his hall of glittering gold.

The space echoes his every sound, pinging off the walls and metal plains, scrapes of spines like nails on steel and the jingles of his many belts as his muscular form stalks onward. Attention goes to the large rocky surface he calls a bed, and runs a scaled hand on it before relinquishing himself to rest. The thing isn't terribly comfortable, large at least, but Stayrus finds himself unable to settle. Tail swinging in agitation as moonlight replaces that of the sun’s, he tries a range of actions to quell this fickle discomfort. Laying on his softer side, his stomach, on the floor and leaning against some side of his pedestal.

None of it does any good, and a deep growl leaves his chest when he stares up at a stream of pearlescent moonlight filtering in. It reminds him of that small pale fur the little Sorcerer was quick to compliment, semi-transparent in it’s wispy and insulating hairs. He rolls himself off his resting spot, twisting his spine like a snake, and prowls over to the remaining furs to send a scrutinising glance at them. He quickly finds more of that pale fur, and flings it up over his shoulder with his tail, and starts grabbing items akin to the ones already picked from the lot. He carries a hefty sum of three thick beast skins and two furs, and swiftly gets to piling them on his rock slab. Two rest flat to cushion his large form, and the one left to dangle on the floor where he knows his tail might end up in the morning. The furs lay on him easily and they do their job of providing soft encapsulation well, securing him in a cocoon of fur.

One final shuffle is all that's needed to settle into place facing the entrance of his home’s inner sanctum, as he sets his arm to a ninety degree angle where his soft cheek meets his hand. The faint breeze cools his face just right above his pocket of warmth, and his tail stretches straight before relaxing and weaving through his legs. Eyes slowly drift shut and a small smile tugs at his lips with the question of if he’ll get to enjoy the expression of his cave-mate when the moon reaches its peak. Shuffling in with a quilt around them as they try to sneak the remaining fruits from their breakfast spot for a late night snack, eyes wide like a raccoon in the torchlight when a chuckle breaks the silence.

#hope this isnt awful to read. im an illustrator more than a writer #but boy do i love slow burn.........#need like 8 more beyond cloudfalls if im honest #qin sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace x reader #lads sylus #dragon sylus #fanfiction #my writing tag #sylus

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