25 and depressed. 0 motivation. I don't usually prefer gacha games but LaDS has Sylus and Rafayel so I gotta.
94 posts
Obahajimarkkeu - Kindalonely. - Tumblr Blog
Because of this post, I can imagine Sylus pausing whatever torture he’s giving to take a call from his lovebug.
“What’s up, sweetheart?” he asks affectionately. His tone completely contrasts what he’s currently doing, holding a pocket knife to some bound thug’s junk.
He’d caught him sniffing around his territory, and Sylus immediately wanted to know who employed him. But, of course, he wouldn’t talk without a bit of encouragement.
Conversely, you’re on the other end of said call, filling him in on the happenings of your day, completely oblivious to what your boyfriend’s up to.
“Oh?” Sylus voices with a raised brow when you start spilling the tea on your coworker’s affairs. “She said that?”
Meanwhile, the thug, with his mouth covered in tape, rolls his eyes, thinking this is worse torment than taking a knife to the dick.
He pipes up when Sylus flashes him a look for daring to interrupt his phone call with his precious little star.
a sexy syndrome is a syndrome where you're incredibly sexy and not many people can resist it
Look at how his soft his features are compared to the start of the story. 🥰😍🫠
Corvid Coeducation
Pairing: Sylus x MC (implied) Rating: G Tags: drabble, crack, fluff, humor, mc as a teacher, third person, 3rd person, painting, playful fighting Summary: MC teaches Mephisto how to paint. Loosely inspired by this image (I know it's a raven in the photo not a crow but it gave me inspo all the same♥). Word Count: ~500
“What are you doing?”
The girl doesn’t look up from the crow she’s currently giving careful instructions to. A small easel meant for a toddler or a small child was set up in Sylus’s bedroom, and a large old towel lay underneath it so paint didn’t stain the floor.
“I'm teaching Mephisto how to paint.”
Sylus sounds amused. “Do you know how to paint?”
“I'll have you know I'm good friends with a…“ Maybe she shouldn’t bring up Rafayel here, but was too late and Sylus latches onto her hesitance.
“With a what, kitten?” A different face came to mind and she was quick to offer Thomas up without hesitating. “...art curator.” she said quickly, busying herself with helping Mephisto dip his paint brush again. “So that’s a no.” Sylus sounded skeptical and his words dripped with disbelief and disappointment.
She ignores him.
“Yeah! so I know how to paint–kind of.” She grumbles, before directing the unruly crow back to canvas. Sylus allows the little white lie, a slight smirk playing on his lips. She was getting better at this kind of game, clumsy as she still was at it. He should reward her for that. He crouches next to her, far too close, enjoying the way she fidgeted nervously at his proximity. They both watched as the crow attempted to make a masterful stroke, but all that came of it was a splotchy red blotch instead.
“Remarkable job. Perhaps I should take lessons from Miss, too.” Sylus comments dryly. The girl shoves at him and they get into a tussle, the painting session forgotten while they grapple. She doesn’t play fair and manages to smudge Sylus’s face with a streak of red paint, her expression momentarily triumphant before he grabs her wrist and jerks her close. The tension is palpable in the air, heavy with anticipation. Sylus leans in, his trembling lips hovering above her own, but is startled by the sudden interruption of an angrily squawking Mephisto from behind him.
He pulls back with a wry smile, admiring how disheveled and flushed the girl looked. His voice is a little rough when he speaks and he clears his throat softly. “Mephisto says we are ruining his creative process.” She can only nod and Sylus crosses his legs in front of the tiny easel meant for a child, tucking her into his lap before she can protest. His hand reaches out to take the brush from the crow, who obediently hops over to offer it.
“You’re putting too much paint on the brush,” Sylus murmured gently, removing some paint with a towel until only a thin layer remained on the tip. “Like this, see?” His breath flutters next to her ear and she struggles to focus on his instruction. “It will help him control the brush better if it’s not so weighed down with paint.”
He angles the brush between Mephisto’s beak and watches as the crow hops back to the canvas, his strokes more dramatically effective this time. For a while, the process repeats and the girl is content to sit in Sylus’s lap, their co-education producing a fine painting in the end.
Sylus holds it out, admiring it with the critically trained eye of a collector. “I’ll hang it in the hall where guests can see it.”
The girl can’t bring herself to tease him about it, but she swore Sylus oddly looked like a proud papa.
I- I was just wiping off some dirt on my screen, Sire!
And I wasn't imagining anything. Simply praying you're real so I could actually feel that big boi like damn.
Omg! Everyone, we need some HCs, short stories AND long stories about this bodyguard!sylus asap!! Pleaseeeee 🥺 @loveanddeepthroat @aeyumicore @syluslnd @villainbait @connorsui @clitfilms @cloudwisp @omiiuvz @plutotheplum @jinwoosbabyboo @saintobio @adimilkys @d0rothydraws @sushiyuzu @syluss-littlecrow @sttoru and other writers who I forgot to mention! Make it fluffy, smutty, action-packed, angst or anything, really. I'm just surprised we don't have (maybe we do idk) bodyguard au of Sylus and Xavier. It's always us being the bodyguard of that purple baby girl.
Now I can't stop myself from thinking of a bodyguard AU with sylus?
Like imagine being a daughter to an important political figure of a father who is not only running this years campaign but is currently worried for your safety from possible dangers that could be out there for you that he hires the most skilled bodyguard that the market has to offer
Multiple scenarios come to mind-- each with its own timeline:
Sylus: "You think I’m just some hired muscle, but I’ve been watching you for a long time. I know every little thing that makes you tick."
Reader (half teasing): "Sounds like you’re obsessed."
Sylus (leaning closer): "Maybe I am."
-
Sylus (after saving reader): "You were reckless. Next time, you stay behind me."
Reader: "And if I don’t?"
Sylus (dangerously quiet): "Then I’ll have to remind you who’s in charge of keeping you alive."
-
Reader (sighing): "I’m sorry for making things difficult."
Sylus (softening): "You think I’d complain? Watching over you is the only thing keeping me sane."
-
Sylus: "You’re a constant risk, you know that? You make my job impossible."
Reader: "Then why stay?"
Sylus (gritting his teeth): "Because I’d die before I let anything happen to you."
AAAUFHDHFHFHFH I CANT MY BRAIN CANT STICK TO ONE
i can't do this anymore! i mean i can, and i will, obviously. but i can't fucking do this anymore!
ZAYNE X FEMALE READER ꒰ nsfw content. mdni. somnophilia, oral (f. receiving), slight pussy drunk zayne
Just thinking about Dr. Zayne, who can't leave the house in the mornings without getting a taste of your sweet cunt. Who slips from the bed ever so quietly, gets dressed for his shift at Akso Hospital, does his tie, and tiptoes back to the edge of the bed, strokes the crown of your head with tender brushes, and leans down to kiss you goodbye. But the scent of your skin, the soft exhales as you sleep soundly, it all makes him go dizzy and sends an ache through him, right down to his cock. Zayne's lips meet your nose, cheeks, lips, and chin before they venture lower, and he gently tugs off the covers, moving tenderly, slow and steady as he settles himself between your thighs, face to face with your clothed cunt, exhaling a heavy breath before he presses his nose against your mound, groaning. His long and slender fingers gently tug your panties aside, bowing his head as he dips his tongue between your folds, giving you a long, proper lick to savor your taste. He knows he's gonna be late, he knows, but he can't help but keep going back for more—another lick, another taste. He could spend hours between your thighs, and he's about to lose himself when your thighs close around his head and—
"You're gonna be late."
Zayne sits up with a tight groan, his chin glistening as he gazes down at your open legs and sleepy gaze, licking his lips that appear a little more swollen than before. "I know," he murmurs, and it sounds more like a sigh than anything. He straightens, fixes his tie, and reluctantly slips from the bed. He doesn't miss the way your eyes follow him and leans down to kiss the top of your head. "Have a good day, sweetheart. I'll see you later, alright? Be good."
Zayne spends the rest of the day with tingling lips and an ache in his pants, thinking about how badly he wanted to taste you the moment he got home from his shift.
