᧔ෆ᧓ dilf!sylus will never forget how you skipped over to him in your cute checkered uniform, eyes tired but smile still bright just for him. you’d told him in awe how much his eyes reminded you of deep red salvias and how his hair was the prettiest shade of silver you’ve ever seen.

never did he think he’d live to experience such a fondness so gentle and featherlight, but the surge of sudden emotions you’d set alight in him wasn’t something he was willing to let slip away so easily when he wanted it.

everyday he made it a priority to come see you after he wrapped up whatever business endeavors that prevented him from arriving sooner. but he never left until you did, so despite his idea of what he considered inexcusable tardiness, sylus always ensured he still got a healthy dosage of the unexpected craving that became you.

᧔ෆ᧓ dilf!sylus loves to hear you talk. it’s addicting—much softer and far more pleasant than ricocheting bullets or any gritty gun powder he’s ever rubbed in between his fingertips. you ramble to him all about the things one your age would fawn over: hobbies, movies, books, and family. simply were you an open book, an advantage for someone who wanted to be the reason why the rest of your pages were properly filled.

with every conversation do you find new things to tell him and he never fails to keep them filed away in his mind for safe keeping.

᧔ෆ᧓ dilf!sylus is far from intimated by the age gap between you two and is pleased to see that it doesn’t seem to bother you either. because even with the age lines across his face, he can see how you still stare at him as if you were the one who had gotten lucky. while you do find the fine clothes and his impressively large stature to be a significant bonus, the value you see in his experiences and opinions was something that could change a man for good.

yes, you’re a young woman, much younger than he’s been in a short while, but it’s that kind of vulnerable innocence that he forgets can exist in something so pure. you’re captivation with the kind of life he’s lived screams at him to be the one who gives you better.

᧔ෆ᧓ dilf!sylus always tries his luck when it comes to trying to accompany you home. you kindly turn down his offer every time and he never pushes, understanding your stuttering hesitation and wanting you to settle into the palm of his hand with ease in the same way he’s already wrapped himself around your delicate fingers.

he doesn’t particularly prefer you out when the sun is down without him, let alone working such a job at all. it would give him a semblance of peace to know you made it home safely with him by your side.

does he still find a way to get what he wants by secretly following you while you wait at the bus stop and walk the lamp-lit streets in the meantime? of course.

sylus has always been a believer that patience was a virtue, after all.

᧔ෆ᧓ dilf!sylus didn’t expect for you to ask him if he’d take the bus home with you on the day you finally cave, but he appreciates how much you’ve found your own unique ways to keep him on his toes.

he humbly accepts and continues to be your ideal gentleman, holding your hand inside the wool pocket of his peacoat all the way to your stop and paying for your ticket. he even has you be the one to sit when only a single seat is available no matter how much you urge him to instead.

he can’t help but to stare down at your pretty face, reaching out a hand to cup your jaw and tenderly swiping his thumb along your cheekbone.

“what’re you doing that for, mr. qin?” you look up at him with a partially cocky smirk, a habit he’s unintentionally instilled in you. the heat in your body is still raging despite the loss of his touch when he unfortunately pulls away.

that makes him chuckle, low and smooth like luxurious silk. “because i want you and you let me. isn’t that enough of a reason, kitten?”

᧔ෆ᧓ dilf!sylus didn’t think he’d be teaching you how to give him a blowjob after your unexpected advances in the comfort of your living room, but he was confident that he could die in this moment and leave the planet with no regrets.

the sight of you on your knees, pupils dilated and lustful with needy determination knitting your brows, was an exquisite one. all the blood rushed to his dick as your gaze flickered between his belt buckle that you frenziedly undo and his hooded stare. you’re eager—impatient, but sylus doesn’t interrupt. it brings him joy to see you take.

and once you have him in front of you, cock thick and pulsing in your palm, it’s impossible to ignore the desire to please him that coils in your gut.

“nervous?” he asks softly, smiling at the immediate shy shake of your head that does little convincing. “determined little thing, aren’t you? there’s no need to lie to me, sweetie. you forget how well i know you.”

you tentatively start with tiny kisses down both sides of his length just like you’ve seen in many videos before, suckling on his bulbous tip and rubbing him against your pursed lips

that’s when he accepted your mouth to be capable of making him even more of a dangerous man.

᧔ෆ᧓ dilf!sylus likes to watch how much effort you put into learning his body. you slowly took him in as he patiently instructed, breathed through your nose like he urged, and whimpered when the vein on the underside of his heavy length slid onto your flattened tongue along with the rest of him.

“so eager… and such a good girl. you like being told what to do, don’t you?” he sharply inhales from how he nudges against the back of your tight throat, balls growing heavier the more you try your best to make every inch of him fit.

it didn’t matter how much you gagged. with hollowed cheeks and watery eyes, you absolutely refused to stop.

“obedience, submission…” sylus trails off, captivated by how almost dependent you’ve made him feel. “both are so beautiful on you.”

quickly had it grown filthy, excessive amounts of spit spilling out the corners of your mouth, and your heartbeat thumped harder when he began to guide your amateur yet intoxicating movements.

it made you fixate on the masculinity he effortlessly exudes and the musky smell of him as you found your pace up and down his twitching shaft. every part of him was the most alluring thing you’ve ever had the pleasure to get a taste of. even that saltiness of his precum claiming your tastebuds was something you could get hooked on.

᧔ෆ᧓ dilf!sylus has already decided that you belong to him. how could he live with himself if he didn’t own your warm mouth and greedy licks?

“my p-perfect doll,” he coos. his sincere admiration and hand still firmly wrapped up in your hair has you pathetically humming around his leaking cock. “i can’t wait to worship you. you and your pretty pussy. how much is she drooling, hm? promise me you’ll let me taste it.”

the rug beneath your knees stings as good as his grip in your scalp. with the urgency he puts into his hips, almost as if he’s trying to chase your mouth, sylus’ head lolls to the side and he lets that intense buildup heating his skin completely take over him.

you never falter, sucking him with the same level of appetency until he finally falls apart. his husky groans only encouraged you further.

seeing one as powerful as sylus become completely vulnerable and unguarded despite you being the one giving was a sense of power that electrified your senses.

sticky streams of his cum hit your tongue fast to make your cunt helplessly clench tighter and your panties embarrassingly wetter. at first, you wanted to pull off, to let his seed grace your skin instead, but the way he holds your jaw so soothingly with him still settled in your mouth was enough of an encouragement to not move until he finished.

“you can spit it out,” he offers sincerely, breathless and utterly spent but the most satisfied he’s been in such a long time. “it’s alright, kitten. i promise. don’t force yourself. or… open your mouth and i’ll take care of it.”

sylus hisses as you slowly remove yourself from him, thin strings of your saliva clinging to your flushed lips before falling to your chin. he leans forward when you comply, your jaw lowering to reveal the pool of his seed. you don’t have time to deny the way kisses you with such dizzying force. what you didn’t swallow, he takes both that and your mouth selfishly.

“you do know that i’m far from finished with you, right?” he kisses the corner of your lips.

“i was… hoping you wouldn’t be,” you meekly admit, throat raw and slightly sore in the most invigorating way.

he hums with amusement. “think you can handle it?”

“let me show you that i can.”

᧔ෆ᧓ dilf!sylus never believed he could fall in love. but the night he met you became his proof that anything was possible.

a/n: if you don’t like this… LITERALLY DON’T TELL ME!!!! 😩

creds to @/uzmacchiato for bow divider!!

You flush and clear your throat, because no matter how long you’ve been together, with him every moment always feels like the first time. “Cian, was looking for you earlier, wanted to show you something.” 

“Hm?” he mutters, kissing back down the trail he’d traced. “What was it?” 

You shrug. “He wouldn’t show me, said it was papa’s secret.” 

Sylus’s panic was undetectable if it weren’t for the stutter in his movement. The slight flex of one of his fingers in your shoulder, the soft exhale through his nose. Ever so in tune with your husband, you raise a brow. “What is it?” 

The look he gives you is cool and unassuming, and then he flashes you a charming smile. “It’s harder to keep secrets from you when you’ve gotten so sharp.” 

“I’ve always been sharp.” you frown.

He kisses you soundly on the lips, pleased with the little pout he coaxed out of you. “And beautiful.” 

He looks at the sleeping child in your arms and bends down to kiss his forehead too. Your heart melts at the sight. Then he stands, and your frown deepens. “Where are you going?” 

“To handle a whistleblower.” he says, straightening his clothes and shooting you a mischievous grin. “And to teach him how to keep secrets from mama properly.” 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

For every corner, every nook and cranny of the base, Sylus had a mental replica of how it should be. One of the most surprising things you realized when you’d started to live together was how clean he was. He liked keeping things in a certain order, and because of this, he was good at leaving and moving without a trace. 

You’d abide to his rules when you moved in as much as you could, but you couldn’t keep up with his tidiness. It never bothered him though, instead, he delighted in it— to see some of his toiletries pushed to the side to make way for your own, how you sometimes accumulate glasses of water with lipstick stains by your bedside, your clothes at the foot of the bed when you’re rushing to get changed— knowing you are here, under the same roof, in the same space, with him. 

And just as he felt with your trail of breadcrumbs, he felt it tenfold with his boys. The post-hurricane-esque damage of toys and trinkets in his spotless living room, the mess of baby food on the dining table after a meal, crayon marks on his pristine walls, a stray stuffie in his office. A shock to find, of course, but it was never unwelcome. 

And so, he follows his son’s trail to the playroom (once an extra armory, flipped by you and the big twins while he was away). It wasn’t hard, it was literally a trail of animal crackers.

He pushes the already ajar door open. “Lucian—“

“—there’s too many of them, little boss—“

“—And another one—“ 

Three heads look up at him as he enters. One would argue three of his sons were caught red handed dealing illegally acquired animal crackers (it wasn’t snack time yet). But there they were, his loyal henchmen in party hats and his own three year old in a crown, arm very evidently elbow-deep into the cracker tin canister. 

“Papa!” Lucian smiles, crumbs all over his cheeks and chubby little fingers. 

“Boss.” Luke and Keiran greet as well, glancing down at the hands in their lap. 

Lucian doesn’t stay idle, instead he shakes off his crown and rushes to Sylus’s leg. He is picked up and balanced in the crook of his father’s elbow. Sylus’s eyes soften with a molten glow as he brings up gentle fingers to brush away the dirt on his boy’s cheeks. “What are you doing, little boss?” 

“Papa, I sharin’!” he grins proudly. Sylus raises a brow. 

He peeks over the child’s shoulder to Keiran and Luke with their masks half raised, already munching on the animal crackers on their plastic plates. He gives them a pointed look that makes them slow and turn away, knowing full well they weren’t supposed to succumb to snacks-during-not-snack-time. “With Luke and Keiran?” 

“Mhm!” Lucian is already trying to make his way up Sylus’s shoulders. Sylus lets him. 

“Mm, that’s kind of you.” 

A crumbly finger leaves an imprint just beside Sylus’s eye. “I good.” 

“Yes, angel.” Sylus looks up at him. Lucian’s face, a reflection of his own with your irises and your smile, hangs upside down to meet his gaze. “Did you find my surprise?” 

Lucian frowns for a moment. After the day he’s had, retrieving a memory after such a long business transaction must be a monumental feat for a clever little mind. The time today he found Luke and Keiran and was told to “shh!”. But it comes to him eventually, and when it does his face lights up like the sun. “Ah-huh!” 

“Did you show mama?” 

“No.” 

“Did you tell mama?” 

Lucian blinks. “I tell: no, mama! No go in!” 

Ah, yes. Of course. Sylus chuckles, pinching his cheeks. “Good job, angel.” 

He’ll clean the mess up later, not that he truly minds it, but he wouldn’t want ants festering in his children’s favorite room.

And that’s what it was: his need for you to have your own favorite room.

He never thought that setting up an old armory would bring this much joy to his children, having once thought the whole base was theirs to conquer, and yet seeing them return somewhere when they have no idea where to go, seeing them drift in and out of the playroom made him realize: that was their little safe space. 

And just as his little adventurers were half of him, who once in a lifetime ago, could never have enough space, enough lands, enough resources and things to dominate, they were also half you. Yearning for peace, a quiet little bubble to gather your thoughts, regulate your heart and breathe. 

He has his spaces. His boys have the base and the playroom. You… you need your bubble. 

Lucian hangs tight on his father’s head, both arms perfectly hugging the circumference as Sylus walks to the hidden room. Papa’s secret surprise.

Down the labyrinth halls, around the priceless statue of a dragon he bought at an auction (its pedestal desecrated with Bluey stickers), there lies the auspicious grey door Lucian had thought would be a good hiding spot. 

“Is book room.” Lucian says, one hand mindlessly drifting down to cover Sylus’s left eye.

Sylus doesn’t flinch, but nods. “It's mama’s room.” 

“Upstairs…” Lucian answers quietly, thinking it was a question. 

Sylus chuckles and pushes the door open. 

The incense marinates the room in the scent of fresh linens and citrus, and the sunlight shoots through the half-drawn curtains onto the soft plush carpet— the kind of texture you and Kyros particularly enjoyed. On the wall, a large shelf with lines of books and empty spaces for you to fill. A corner with an easel and paints; old paintings you’d stored away in the spare rooms to make way for your childrens’ needs dusted and placed on your old wooden art table. Your favorite weapons encased in glass, decorated the bare walls.

A desk with a laptop for your writings. A basket of yarn and needles and the other things you bring to your shared bed to poke and weave. A circular couch, closer to a cat-bed, by the window. A hammock by the wall. A beanbag in the corner. And more, so much more.

Everything Sylus had taken note of, committed to memory. Things you’ve said, “sorry for the mess” for. Things he’d thought of and said— she’d like this. All gathered, collected and stuffed— organized in this room. 

“Smell nice.” Lucian says, scrambling to get down his father’s shoulders. He does it too quickly, almost falling if it weren’t for Sylus’s foresight. He catches his toddler by the armpits with little fanfare and sets him down on his feet. Lucian, against his usual nature, walks carefully into the room, as if afraid to disrupt its peace. “Mama like books.” 

“She does.” Sylus nods, inspecting the work the bigger twins have done with the lighting. Silently regarding their good work, he looks down to his son eyeing the hammock. “Wanna try?” 

Lucian runs towards the hammock and grabs onto the tassels. But before he can tug the entire thing to come crashing down, Sylus lifts him up and places him in the giant seat. He pushes the swing and Lucian’s giggles bounce off the walls.  

Sylus beams at your smile on his son’s face. The sun setting through the western window bathing the room in a warm glow. He can’t wait to show you. He can’t wait to give it to you. He hopes, still, despite how long and how sure he’s known you, that you like it.

And that’s why he needed to get you out of the house. 

Sylus has a plan— he’s good at planning, and even better at executing those plans— and that involves gifting this to you as the big ta-da! The final pièce de résistance at the end of a good day. 

There is a traveling carnival in a few days, one he’d invited you to go see days before. You’d arm yourselves with baby carriers and strollers, extra diapers and snacks, hats and hand-held fans, and bring the boys to experience it. Then, he’d take you to a nice restaurant with air conditioning to cool down. You’d order your favorite meal, he’d pick the onions off of Kyros’s plate, and Lucain would be a mess of squash and cream. And after, you’d make it in time for the fireworks to set off across the river.

He’d drive home, hold your hand as he watches you in the corner of his eye fight back sleep, while the little snores in the back lull you to unconsciousness. You’d take the kids in from the car and set them down in the nursery, and before you head back to your own bedroom, he’d ask you if you’d like to see something he’s working on. Might even bring up Lucian’s term of— 

“Papa secret.” 

He freezes— this time, completely detectable. He has better instincts than this in other, more dire situations, like ambushes and break-ins.

But not for you. 

You, standing by the door with a smug little smirk on your pretty face. One hand guiding an already awake other twin to toddle in towards his brother. 

Lucian screams in surprise and delight, caught— because he wasn’t very good at secrets just yet. But although close, he wasn’t the one who pulled the pin on this grenade. 

Kyros. The quiet little thing. All whispers and contained excitement. The one Sylus had assumed to be safe. Wrongly.  

Now, happily chanting over and over, “Papa secret, papa secret…” 

Sylus sighs, running his fingers through his neatly done hair out of exasperation, and then turning to look at you with a defeated upturn of his lips. “Beloved.” 

You lunge. Arms embracing his shoulders and molding your lips to his. He catches you just a second later through the haze, and grins into your kiss. “You…” 

He asks, “Do you like it?”

You pull back and nod. Words cannot surmise how you feel. The stars bursting in your chest, the tears burning your eyes, the love— oh, the love the spills over and takes captive your entire soul. 

Sylus laughs, cupping your face in his large hands and kissing you again. “I’m glad.” 

You sniff, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Is this mine?” 

His thumb brushes the corner of your eye. “I don’t crochet.” 

Your fist lands on his chest with no real force. He catches it, spreads out your fingers over his heart. You stare at him thoughtfully, and it knocks the breath out of him how your eyes twinkle in the light. 

“I wanted to surprise you.” He says, tone almost apologetic. 

You smile. It dawns on you that he probably had planned this huge reveal. You consider him and brush his hair away from his eyes. “I am surprised.” 

He exhales, a scoff and an exasperated laugh. “I’m sure you’ve had your suspicions.” 

And you can’t hide the little smile you try to suppress— sure, the little twins were expected to blab one way or another, but you didn’t really need them when you have the big twins acting shifty and weird around you when you asked them what the light fixtures were for when they came in the mail. “Maybe a little.” 

“Please.” He taps your forehead with a teasing finger. “You’ve always been sharp.” 

Just before you can kiss him senseless again, his attention is called with a tug on his pant leg. Kyros stares up at him.

“Pa, up pease?” He says, pointing to his brother on the swinging hammock. 

He gives you an apologetic look which you return with a fond smile, as he pulls away from you and hauls Kyros up and places him beside his brother. 

“Papa, swing fast-fast!” Lucian howls, shaking the blanket and making the new hinges groan. 

Sylus secures Kyros with pillows and guides his hands to hold the corners of the blanket. “Tell me when it’s too fast, okay?” 

Kyros nods. And Sylus pushes. 

Quickly, the room’s once undisrupted peace is washed with a peaceful kind of chaos. Intended to be a space for you and all the things you love, now filled with the entire world. 

As Sylus pulls back to let the hammock swing from its own momentum, you wrap your arms around his torso from behind, pressing your face in the space between his shoulders. You mutter a muffled, “Thank you, my love.” 

Sylus takes your hands and brings them to his lips in reply. Needing you to know that your thanks is welcome but not needed. All he needs is this— you, your kids, and the wonderful mess you’ve made in his life.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more sylus thoughts ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆