the depths @shaozs - Tumblr Blog

white-dusted knight

sylus x reader ʚɞ You meet Sylus on a fateful night. He's likely to be bad news, but it doesn’t stop you from buying his weed as an excuse to keep talking to him. Unbeknownst to you though, he has already laid his claim.

11.5k; tagged alternate universe - drug dealer!sylus, dom!sylus, daddy kink, degradation kink, undernegotiated kink, recreational drug use, fluff & smut

˚₊‧⁺⋆♱ full fic under the cut or on ao3

excerpt; The man was high up, peering over a balcony rail that overlooked the whole dance floor, lazily swirling a glass in one hand. Criminally handsome, you think, unearthly irises an absolutely lethal package when accompanied by his silver-white hair and hooked nose.

You hold your drink up above the crowd, as if to say cheers to the devil himself.

He raises his in return before he downs it in one go and cocks his head in invitation.

When you told your roommate Tara that you landed a decent job offer, her first order of business was to celebrate, decidedly by taking you to the swankiest club in the city because her best friend apparently deserved a front-row view to Aether’s notoriously expensive bottle service for her hard work. It took not even half an hour into the night for her to leave you to fend for yourself against the loud music and dim lights the second someone fed her words that were prettier than average

Not unfamiliar with situations like this, though, you lose yourself into the thump of the bass, counting down fifteen minutes. Just enough to know whether she was on a successful conquest or not, and whether you should expect her to return to your side before you were in the clear to venture around by yourself.

After all, this highbrow scene is mostly foreign to you, more used to the no-frills experience that the nightclub across from your old university campus had to offer. This was something you thought you’d only fully indulge in once you were a bit farther into your career and your pockets were more heavily-lined.

It wasn't long after your eyes started to roam that they landed on unnatural crimson. The man was high up, peering over a balcony rail that overlooked the whole dance floor, lazily swirling a glass in one hand. Criminally handsome, you think, unearthly irises an absolutely lethal package when accompanied by his silver-white hair and hooked nose.

You hold your drink up above the crowd, as if to say cheers to the devil himself.

He raises his in return before he downs it in one go and cocks his head in invitation.

Despite the time frame you promised yourself to linger around the same area in case Tara returned, you weren’t going to waste an opportunity to see what being at Aether’s VVVIP table is like, so you push through to head up the glass staircase.

His eyes following you the whole way through, you hold his gaze as if you were in a trance. There’s something in you that immediately begs to close the gap, so you do. And once you get there, you find him alone at the large booth, save for a pair of identical twins who were passing a joint between each other on the sprawling couch. Even among the heady scents of bodies and sweat, your nose had perked up at the herbal musk. You hadn’t expected that you might be able to smoke a bit tonight.

A meager three people for a table that probably costs double of an average salaryman’s monthly wage to book for the night. You wonder just who you’ve surrendered yourself to.

The man now leaned against the balcony to face you and held out his hand, and you took it without thought, savoring its calloused texture until you were close enough that he had to crane his neck down to look you in the eye.

Now, this is a man who must be favored by fate. He’s even more good-looking up close. Sharp eyes take in your appearance like he’s appraising a prized jewel.

“There’s much less people than I expected up here,” you comment to make conversation.

“Does that disappoint you?” he asked in a deep, alluring voice. “I tend to keep it tight-knit. And I had thought tonight wouldn’t be anything special, but it seems like I’ve been mistaken.”

A smooth talker at that too, he hums as he runs his thumb across your knuckles. You already know, with older men like him—he is going to be the death of you.

“Not at all, it’s a breath of fresh air.”

“As fresh as it can get when those two are around, I suppose,” he looks over to his two companions, who regard you with great curiosity, like you’re something novel. The man plucks your drink to put it away before he grabs a champagne bottle from a nearby ice bucket and refills his own flute, offering it to you.

"Since when did you share like that?" one of the twins interjected, but the man paid them no mind.

You give him a small smile as you take the glass and give it a sip. Very expensive, you must surmise. You’ve never tasted such a crisp bubbly. "Thank you, this is really nice."

You introduce yourself as you hand it back to him. He throws back the remainder of the glass in one go.

"A beautiful name," he compliments once he’s done. "I'm Sylus. What brings you here all by yourself?"

"Not by myself," you correct. You peer down to the crowd to see if you can spot Tara, and after a few seconds your eyes focus on her chocolate brown hair in the corner of the room as she eats someone's face out. Good for her. "But my friend found her company for the night."

"Mmm, and you haven't?"

You give him a confident look. “Haven’t I?”

Sylus chuckles. “Come sit with me,” he says as he leads you to the couch with a hand on the small of your back. Your ears redden at the casual intimacy of the action.

At the snap of his fingers, a club staff member appears and gives you a new glass before disappearing just as fast as he came. Your head swims thinking of what would justify the seemingly insane amount of influence Sylus must have around these parts.

CEO, nepo baby, or a secret third thing? He’s dressed like any and all of the above—a luxurious white satin shirt that has too many of the top buttons undone tucked into perfectly ironed trousers, a necklace with a gleaming centerpiece pendant resting above prominent collarbones.

“Wanna hit?” one of the twins interrupts your thoughts, offering the joint between his fingers.

“Yes please.” You nod as you take it and give it a deep inhale, causing you to cough immediately. Sylus hands you a glass of water seemingly from thin air. Oh, but this is the good stuff. Though with everything that you’ve picked up on in the last few minutes, you suppose this shouldn’t come as a surprise to you.

“Who do you get it from, if I can ask? This is nice.”

The other twin guffaws at the question, but answers earnestly when his companions don’t protest. “It’s organically homegrown, of course! It’s our… family business!”

That partially explains the riches. Sylus shakes his head in mock exasperation as he takes the joint from you to hand back to them on your behalf. “Do you like smoking, kitten?”

The nickname, along with a large thumb now drawing circles on your side, gives you a full-body shiver. You hope it wasn’t obvious enough for them to notice. This man is a blaring warning siren, and you’re only more tempted to learn more about what’s behind the handsome face.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “From time to time. It’s a good stress reliever.”

"I have more of where that came from, if you're interested." Ah, of course he does.

"To be honest, I'm not sure if I can afford you. Do you do discounts?” you’re only half-joking as you giggle that out.

"I can make an exception, sure," he smirks, leaning closer until you can smell the smoky rose of his deep cologne. “I’m also willing to accept payments in the form of in-kinds.”

“Such as?”

His other hand makes a grab at your exposed thigh. “There’s a few things I have in mind.”

And just when you think things are about to escalate to something more, another staff member comes up to Sylus and whispers something in his ear.

Whatever he says, it makes Sylus tsk and rubs at his temple. "Unfortunately, it seems like I have some urgent matters to attend to.” He gives the twins a look, and they sigh as they stand up, dusting off their pants. You pout, thinking that the opportunity to have the hottest one-night-stand you’d ever tell anyone about has just slipped through your fingers. But then he hands you his phone with a new contact tab open.

Your eyebrows turn up at the surprise. So maybe it won’t be the only time you’ll ever see him? But you suppress the hopeful thoughts of going any further than this with him by reminding yourself that he’s probably just getting your information because you’re a potential customer for his… goods. You type your details in anyway.

A gentleman, it seems, as he offers his hand once more to help you stand up, and he keeps your fingers intertwined with one another all the way until he's led you down the stairs back to the dance floor.

“If you’re not waiting for your friend, the club’s chauffeur can drive you home. Just tell him that I said so,” Sylus says as a last remark. “I hope I can see you again soon, sweetie.”

He traces your chin with a long finger as he walks away. You’re unsure of what just happened.

The night is still incredibly young, and Aether is still rife with more people you can talk to and bodies to dance on. But after who you’ve just met, you feel like doing so would be a bad idea, like it would immediately get back to him if you decided to pursue someone else tonight in this club. You think it’s crazy that you’re already pledging silent loyalty to a man that you were only able to chat with for a few minutes, but there’s something in you that feels inexplicably drawn to his mystery.

You find Tara’s soft face amongst the crowd once more, and she makes a thumbs up at you in question, and you reply with one of your own. She smiles, signaling an OK as her suitor for the night ushers her away from your view.

You step outside into a nice cool breeze, walking to a limousine with the club’s logo printed on its door.

“Uh, Sylus said you could drive me home?” you ask the man through the open window.

The chauffeur’s eyes widen at the name and scrambles to unlock the car. “Oh yes, please come in, madame. Let me know your address.”

After he drops you off a street away from your building, you’re in bed by midnight like Cinderella, only slightly buzzed after being in the most expensive club in Linkon City for less than an hour. Yet no part of you feels like your night was cut short at all.

You’re greeted by a text from an unknown number when you wake up the next morning and you save it without thinking. Sylus continues to surprise you by reaching out faster than you had anticipated. That he even reached out at all.

Sylus Got home safe sweetie?

These pet names were going to be the death of you.

Me yes, thank you so much for the ride! let me know how much I owe you for that and… maybe 2 grams? hybrid?

Sylus Owe me?

Sylus Thats funny.

Sylus Do you want it today? You can get it this afternoon.

Me oh!! sure?

Me I tried transferring you a hundred for now but it bounced back, is your number not connected to your digital wallet?

Sylus It isnt.

Sylus Maybe Im a bit old fashioned but we can do cash on delivery.

You tell Tara about him over breakfast after she hobbles in from her own room—she must have come back sometime while you were still asleep—still drowsy from the night she must have had. And after getting a better look at her, she’s got the marks to match too.

“I don’t know if he’d be just in it for the money though,” she argues in support of the doubts you have regarding his intentions. “From what you described, I think he’s super into you! He had to at least be attracted to you, otherwise he wouldn’t call you over to his table like that.”

You shrug as you heat up a cup of water. “I hope you’re right. I’ve never met someone like him before.”

Later, you’re at the agreed location five minutes before you’re supposed to meet Sylus when a sleek, dark car pulls up to you. When the window rolls down you’re slightly disappointed to see that it’s the twins from the club and not the man himself.

“Boss wants to say sorry for not giving this to you in person. He’s still handling that thing from last night,” the twin in the passenger seat says as he hands you an extravagantly ornate box shaped like a heart, wrapped in a lush red satin bow.

Now this is nuts.

“The thing from last night…” you echo, mostly yourself. But you snap out of it. You wedge the box unceremoniously between your legs so your hands are freed up to pull several bills out from your wallet. “Look, he didn’t tell me how much it was, is this enough?”

You’re praying it isn’t anything more than that, though you know that it’s likely priced at a premium. You haven’t even started at your job, you’re not rolling in cash like Sylus most definitely is. That thought sends you on a small spiral when you process that you're essentially buying drugs just for a chance to see a guy you only met briefly the night before.

But to be fair, he’s a very attractive guy.

“Um,” the twin looks at the money like it’s an object completely foreign to him. “Sorry, we don’t have change. But have a good day, Miss!”

They drive away before you have a chance to say anything else.

You almost pass out once you’re back at your apartment and unwrap the box.

“What the fuck?! How much was this?!” Tara, who’s next to you, screeches when she peers over to see the box full of that dusty green. You ignore her, immediately pulling out your phone to text him again.

Me this is like?!? not 2 grams ?!?

Sylus answers in record time, like he was waiting to hear from you after you open his little… surprise.

Sylus Its 21, if youre curious.

Sylus A first timer gift, for customer retention of course.

Me …

Me I don’t even smoke that much

Me this will take me ages to finish!

Sylus Cant have that. otherwise Id have to create another excuse to see you sooner.

Sylus Share it with your friends. or better yet

Sylus Share it with me?

You've never heard of a dealer inviting someone to indulge in their own products together, but it's not like you care whether Sylus follows a nonexistent etiquette or not. You weren’t in it to actually buy weed from him, if you can even say you’ve bought it. It's been two weeks since he gave you that box and he hasn't let you pay a cent.

Not wanting to mess up during the first few days of your new job, you didn’t risk touching it at all, and plans to meet up with Sylus have yet to come to fruition. You’ve learnt through texting him recently that he's quite the busy man, and you were lucky enough to catch him at Aether during a very rare free moment of his time—and that still ended up getting interrupted anyway.

No matter, though, you catch yourself thinking as you finally light a thin roll when you arrive home on a Friday night after work to welcome the weekend. Your confidence in Sylus being interested in you has continued to build up as he initiated messages and replied to you diligently about things that aren’t related to his… business.

Sylus How is work treating you?

Me honestly? I’m struggling a lot! I’m still getting used to the corporate life but I can already tell it’s not for me…

Sylus Poor kitten. Would you let me do something about it?

Me ? like what?

What does he mean by that, you wonder.

You awkwardly stare at the open chat app for a while until it’s been long enough without a reply from Sylus to tell you that he’s no longer on his phone. You curl up into the couch and turn your attention to absentmindedly watch some TV.

You land on the local news channel, watching live coverage on a special forces team working through a warehouse wreckage caused by some sort of gang dispute. The reporter’s voice drones in your head as you take a deep drag of the joint. “Authorities believe that the conflict took place between the Onychinus syndicate and a rival organization yet to be identified. Five bodies have been recovered so far as personnel search the debris, along with a staggering three metric tons of cocaine—”

The loud shrill of your phone scares you slightly, but you pick up instantly once you see who's calling.

“Hey!”

“Hello, kitten,” Sylus sounds out of breath on the other line. “Are you free to talk right now?”

“I am, but are you sure that you are? You sound like you've just run a marathon.”

Breathless rich laughter rings through the receiver. “I've been busy wrapping up a few matters that have remained persistent. But that’s nearly over with now, so I’m wondering if you're free… Sunday, perhaps? To come to mine?”

You fight against the urge to strand right up and do a victory lap around your living room, and you hope that he can't hear the sound of you kicking your feet excitedly against the couch cushion. “About time! Right when I thought that you were coming up with excuses to avoid me,” you say, daring to make such a joke.

“That wouldn’t make sense when I want to do the exact opposite,” Sylus says in honesty. “I apologize. I just wanted to hear your voice, but I have to go now. I’ll see you then.”

He hangs up before you have a chance to reply, but you’re already bolting to Tara to tell her the good news.

“Wow. To that and this,” she says as she exhales a large cloud of smoke accompanied by some hard coughs. A big gulp of water puts her back on track. “You were right. This is good. And you still haven’t paid him at all? You need to get his prices because there’s no way I’m not gonna tell the others about how good this stuff is. They’ll be clawing at his door.”

“Honestly, I’m half scared that he’ll demand thousands the moment I step in his place. Then what am I gonna do, Tara?”

“Well. That’s when you start doing what he wants you to come over for. Duh.”

“Tara!”

Saturday sets in, and the pleasant, subtle high you fell asleep in has rolled over into a bright morning, starting your day off with an easy smile.

The grin persists as you get ready for brunch. The anticipation of both your upcoming plans has you skipping down to the driveway of your apartment building, where your other best friend is already waiting pretty for you in his sleek sports car. He revs the engine when he sees you, loud enough that an elderly passerby looks at him in disdain.

Your eyes rolled at the obnoxious gesture, but you couldn’t rag on Rafayel too hard; for you were a direct beneficiary of his absurd wealth.

You kiss his cheek as you get into the passenger seat, and an easy conversation builds as he drives you to whatever swanky eatery he’s chosen for this food trip.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to make your opening last week,” you start as you mess with his car stereo. “I swear I’m not trying to avoid going to your shows. My schedule has just been so horrible to me. I’ve been working overtime almost every day at my new job to get up to speed.”

“I’m sorry too,” Rafayel shakes his head. “My poor girl is subjecting herself to a 9 to 5 that doesn’t even hit average wage.”

“9 to 9, if we’re being really honest. It’s something, though, and decent jobs are hard to come by these days. Not everyone is an artistic genius.”

“True,” he tilts his head, eyes staying steady on the road. “But you’re not just anyone either, cutie. You could be my bodyguard or my secretary and I’d pay you double, triple then and there.”

You shake your head dismissively, a small smile forming at the throwaway compliment. “And have to be by your side 24/7? I don’t know if I could take that.”

“Hey!”

Only later when the two of you have nestled into the cozy booth of the restaurant does your conversation pick up again.

“But the show last week,” Rafayel rolls his eyes. “Same old, same old. Sold out as usual. However Thomas did catch a buyer group snorting in the back room like an hour before the gallery was supposed to close.”

“No. People actually do that?”

“They just get so bored, I suppose,” he snorts. “Obviously we wouldn’t make a big fuss out of it, it’s par for the course for art snobs. But they were so shameless about it. Even told us who they got it from. Graymist is no Onychinus, but it’s still a pretty penny for some blow.”

“Onychinus? I saw them on the news last night.”

“That shootout? Oh yeah, that’s standard for them. They’re guns blazing the second a rival syndicate oversteps, or so I hear. You know, not to be super shady, but they buy some of my work.”

“Really?” You rest your head in your palms as you lean forward in interest.

“Yep, they send the same guy every time. I don’t really remember his name. Something like Cyrus? But from the glances I’ve seen of him, he’s got a unique look, like early-thirties with white hair.”

Your stomach drops at that very second.

“Oh. Funny you say that,” you say cautiously, deciding to pick your next words very carefully. “I met a guy recently who fits that description to a T.”

It’s like you can see the dots connecting in Rafayel’s head, he leans closer to get into your space.

“Yeah? Did he try selling you anything?” He asks, voice dropped into a theatric whisper.

“Not really. He let me take a hit of his joint.”

“Hm. I guess he didn’t figure you, uh, fit Onychinus’ usual…clientele.”

“Which are?”

“Billionaires, corrupt politicians, the like. That’s why they’re so rich. Your Cyrus guy—he always makes appointments with Thomas for private viewings.”

Your eyebrows raise in intrigue, nodding to invite him to continue.

“Then, when he buys stuff, he never tries to negotiate, writes checks on the spot, and the piece is instantly out of the gallery when the show period ends. Not to sound jaded but, a customer as good as that in the art world is sketchy as hell. Also, it’s how casual he apparently is with talking about the… business he’s associated with. It blows Thomas’ mind. Like he has nothing to lose. Or he has the confidence that it won’t ever happen.”

“So you’re saying that this guy I’ve been painfully into might be working for the biggest drug cartel in the city.” Truthfully, you’re struck just a bit dumb.

Rafayel snaps his fingers. “More like the biggest drug cartel in the whole country! And I knew he was your type too.”

“Shut up.”

“Should I have introduced you?” He pretends to roll his eyes in derision. “But seriously. You better watch out, cutie. Take care of yourself and don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

You’re still in a daze even when Rafayel has dropped you off back to your place, and you don’t believe the moderate day drinking you’ve done has anything to do with it.

Is it really smart to meet him now, after what you’ve learnt?

Or more importantly, do you even care?

To be honest, the information that Rafayel had revealed to you was not needed for you to reach the conclusion that Sylus is not exactly the safest nor sanest guy to pursue seriously.

But there’s something about him that’s just so tempting. Alluring. You can’t help it. It’s in his cadence, the way he talks; charisma that only accompanies extreme self-confidence and is lacking in those who play it up in overcompensation.

And how clear he has been with how much he wants you.

Speak of the devil, as if he knows you’re thinking of him, you’re getting cozy in bed when your phone dings with a notification.

Sylus Im looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, sweetie.

You squint at your phone when Sylus follows up with a message telling you that the twins—who you now know as Luke and Kieran—would pick you up and drive you to his place.

God, this is such an unwise decision. Definitely quite high up the “bad choices you’ve made” list. There’s a part of you amidst all his hospitality that still thinks he has malicious intentions. But at the same time, what he or Onychinus could even gain out of fucking you over, you couldn’t tell. You, who’s barely three months out of university with absolutely no real wealth to your name.

In the end, your train of thought lands on the natural answer of simply on giving Sylus the benefit of doubt.

Me me tooooo!

Me see you :*

“Again, Boss wishes he got to pick you up himself, but he’s been crazy busy recently. He’s been overworking himself so that he could free up some time to spend with you.” Kieran says as he looks back at you from the passenger seat. This time, the twins have got black surgical masks covering the lower half of their faces.

You blush at the idea of Sylus actively trying to see you. But it also opens up even more questions, like exactly what kind of work that even entails.

You’re also curious on how secretive these boys would get if they’re prodded for answers. You belatedly realize that they’re probably not much older than you, if at all.

“So, what does Sylus actually do for work? Is it just… y’know?” Dealing drugs? Curating and buying artwork for a drug ring leader? Being the right-hand man to an old fuck about to kick the bucket that has warehouses full of blood money?

“You know, guys like Boss,” Luke starts. “They do too many things to label them one way or the other.”

So purposefully vague. They’re loyal henchmen slash employees after all. You hum in lieu of an answer, and you suppose you have no choice but to ask all your burning questions to the man himself once you see him.

The car drives into the central business district and pulls up to a skyscraper so tall that the top is shrouded by clouds, and you continue to try not to show your surprise as well-dressed staff help you out of the car and escort you through an opulent lobby into a dim elevator. Your mouth slowly starts to gape open when it starts to go up past floor numbers that there aren’t even buttons for.

Working at a crime syndicate really gets you somewhere, huh. But you quickly have to put yourself together when the doors slide open on the 109th floor and Sylus in all of his devastatingly good looks is already standing on the other side to receive you.

“Hi,” you squeak, barely managing to get it out.

He gives you a small smile and extends his hand in invitation once again, in imitation of your first meeting. “It’s nice to finally see you again, kitten.”

Your eyes fixate on him as you put your hand in his, a mirror of your first meeting with him, and Sylus walks you into an endless hallway, fingers gripping onto his a bit tighter as you admire how his choice today of a red dress shirt stretches against his broad back and shoulders.

He leads you into a lounge space and has you sit on a black leather couch as he heads to the bar table on the side to pour you a drink, placing a needle on an already-spinning disk.

You spend a while in silence, taking in the dark interior of the room. The aesthetic, paired with the melodic tune of an organ that starts to permeate the air, gives the room an almost-gothic feel that reeks of opulence in its tasteful tones and luxurious fit-out.

“You like crows?” There’s a metal statue of one perched on a plinth in front of a large, almost-abstract canvas with red and black swirls. No doubt, the piece is one of Rafayel’s—you can recognize his style anywhere.

“I do,” Sylus replies as he returns to you holding two glasses and a bottle of champagne. “My real one, Mephisto, finds these decorations offensive. But that statue predates him.”

You laugh at the comical thought of this smartly-dressed man with a full-sized crow on his arm being an actual thing. Like a cartoonishly evil supervillain that wants to take over the city. But with how this penthouse looks, and where it is, you’re worried that’s a bit closer to the truth than it probably should be.

“You know, I would have been able to get here by myself just fine if you told me your address,” you take one of the flutes from his hand. “It’s hard to miss the tallest building in the city. I always wondered what it was for.”

“And let your shoes touch non-carpeted ground when you’re coming on my invitation? You wound me.”

Pop! Sylus uncorks the bottle with ease, pouring you both a smooth fill. You recognize the bottle to be the same brand as the one he was drinking at Aether.

“You’re not serious,” you giggle as you hold your glass up to him.

He cocks an eyebrow. “But I am. Very much so.”

You and him make a soft clink with your drinks, and you take a quick sip before you put it down on the table in front of you to reach for your bag.

“Oh! And here’s the main event,” you dig through your things and pull out a small zip lock. “I rolled them already.”

Sylus laughs once he sees your work. “So cute and dainty.”

You huff. “I told you, I don’t smoke that much at a time. I usually only bum off my friends if they’re offering.”

“Yet you still wanted to buy some from me?”

You blush again. “Well, I wouldn’t usually, but you know.”

“Do I know, sweetie?” He teases you as he leans into your space, you huff in embarrassment before lightly pushing him away. You don’t really want to get into how desperate you were to see him again, so you try to change the topic.

“By the way. How much do you actually charge? You’ve been putting off telling me. At least give me some frame of reference even if you don’t want me to pay you. My friends would be easy converts to your… ‘family business’,” you quote the term Luke had used when you first met him.

Sylus cocks an eyebrow and gives you a smirk. “I appreciate that you’re trying to get me customers, but I’m afraid your friends fall far below my usual scope. You can always give some of what you have to them, I’m happy to give you more whenever you’d like.”

So Rafayel was right. He doesn’t even deal casually to normal people. “Okay, so what’s your angle? Clearly you’re giving me special treatment.”

“Of course I am.”

The easy admission takes you back, though you don’t know what else you would have expected. “...Why?”

Sylus smiles, pulls you closer to hoist you up by the waist, causing you to yelp in surprise. He seats you comfortably on his lap before he finally replies with another question.

“Do you really need to ask, sweetie?”

You give him a giggle, you feel his warm body even through his clothes now that you’re this close to him. “You just tried to ask me,” you argue, holding the joint up to him.

“I haven’t hid my intentions in the slightest,” he takes a lighter out from his pocket. “I feel voracious after not being able to properly spend time with the beautiful girl that I wanted to covet at first sight.”

You duck your head in embarrassment, not used to such bold declarations of interest. He chuckles and lights the end of the thin roll up before taking it from you.

He tests the waters by rolling his hips just enough for your breath to hitch before he continues. “And now I finally have you here. It feels just right, doesn’t it?”

How are you so sure? The text exchanges and calls aside, you’ve only met him in person once before. You echo the question out loud in a whisper and he laughs once again, like he can’t believe you don’t know the answer.

“I can see the gears in your head working overtime. It’s gonna hurt if you think too hard, kitten. Let’s try something else.”

He takes a long drag from the roll between his fingers before he grabs your chin with his other hand, pulling you forward until your lips meet his.

The combination of processing the kiss while inhaling the smoke that sat at the base of his throat causes you to almost instantly try to create some distance so you could cough, but Sylus immediately chases you into another one. It’s unrefined, and you wouldn’t expect your first kiss with Sylus to include sputtering into his mouth as you work through the itch in your throat, but the older man only seems to find it amusing as he chuckles against you.

“You’re so cute,” he murmurs, before pulling away just enough that he’s able to cock his head into the direction of where you were looking at earlier. You whine a bit at the separation, but follow his line of sight back to the painting in the room. “Do you recognize that piece?”

“Mhm,” you take your turn with a proper drag, deciding to go with telling the truth once you’ve slowly exhaled the smoke. “Rafayel is one of my closest friends. He mentioned that your… organization is a frequent buyer of his.”

“My… organization?” Sylus’ eyes shine in curiosity, wondering how you’ll phrase it.

“Well,” you falter just a bit, a thought flashing through your mind that maybe he’ll actually kill you if you say the word. The name. But you have a feeling that with Sylus’ brand of self-assuredness that he’d simply find your bumbling entertaining. You take another puff. “You know, Onychinus. Your boss has good taste, though.”

“My boss?” He sounds incredulous. “Where did you get the idea that I had one?”

You momentarily stutter. “...Y-you don’t?”

“No, kitten. I don’t work for Onychinus. I own Onychinus. Among other things.”

Oh. Your eyes widen.

For a second, the only thing that isn’t still in the room is the embers of the lit rolling paper slowly burning off bits of ash into the air.

You suppose it shouldn’t surprise you too much, with the way this man acts. But it does circle you back into questions about why he’s so interested in you.

“What’s that face, sweetie?” Sylus asks as he leans into your space. He says it in a betrayingly soft tone, but you know better than to be convinced by what you now fully understand is an absolute predator. “You scared?”

Another puff. “Not really,” you land on, and momentarily you’re taken aback at the truth of your answer. Maybe it’s the haze starting to prickle and seep into your skin, the way that you instinctually trust that his pursuit of you is genuine despite everything else about him that screams it wouldn’t be. Another pull. “Just… wondering what I did to catch the eye of a man like you.”

“You’re doing yourself a disservice.”

He tilts his head in request, and so you hold up the roll against him so he can take a long drag that almost burns through the remainder of the joint in one go. But instead of breathing it out into the air, he cups your cheek into one large hand and brings your lips to meet his again. This time, you’re anticipating the shotgun, and you open your mouth to give him access to exhale the dense smoke straight into you.

You find that from all your experiences, this is the best way you’ve ever gotten high.

He’s still close enough that you can feel his warm breath as he moves to speak quietly into your ear. His hand that was just on your face travels slowly down as it traces your spine to rest with the other that’s on your waist.

“Something spoke to my baser instincts the moment I saw you,” his hands begin to guide you to roll your hips, and you hitch your breath when the heat that begins to pool at the edge of your cunt meets his hardening cock through his pants. “To claim and make mine. You felt it too, didn’t you?”

You nod, and a thumb begins to press gently into the soft muscle of your stomach, rubbing in small circles. He continues, “and it just so happened that some fools that didn’t understand their standing thought that it would be the perfect time to contest my authority. Isn’t that such an inconvenience? I had to lay a trail of cannabis crumbs to make sure this kitten kept following me while I was dealing with their… mess.”

“Mmm, but I would have committed to seeing you again regardless. So you didn’t have to do that, really,” you confess.

“No? But it served its purpose, did it not? Now you’re here right where I want you to be for the foreseeable future,” he noses into the crook of your neck, mouthing and nuzzling into your simmering skin. “You’ll stay with me, won’t you?”

“I-I mean,” you stutter, fully debased. Isn’t this too straightforward? But you can’t bring yourself to resent it at all. “I have. I have a job.”

“That you haven’t even passed the probationary period for. You might as well quit while you’re at it. You wouldn’t have to work a day of your life if you wish, kitten. I can give you anything you could possibly ask for.”

Now, as the high truly settles in, you try to think about it as hard as your mind allows you to. You giggle once you realize what exactly he’s asking of you, the clouds in your head beginning to bear weight. “And that’s your way of asking me to be your girlfriend? To play housewife to the big bad mafia boss?”

“Why… is the lack of fanfare an issue?” Sylus tightens the hold he has around your waist, picking up the speed of your ministrations. “Would you prefer I make a grand declaration of my intent? Cover your whole apartment in thousands of roses? Hire an orchestra? Write ‘will you be mine?’ across the sky?”

“No, no issues.”

“Good,” he nods. “There will be plenty of time for big, expensive proclamations of my affection in the future. So, your answer?”

Decidedly, you take the final puff which brings the cinder to the filter, and you shakily loosen yourself from his grasp to try to lower yourself onto the floor, burnt-out joint falling somewhere inconsequential. But the fast onslaught of your high causes you to almost fall off the sofa entirely, only saved by his strong harms slowing you until you’ve made a safe descent. “I-is this answer enough?”

He leans down to capture your lips in his, finally in a proper kiss. Grabbing either side of your face with his hands and taking up all your air, causing you to gasp and push away from him, using up the last of your strength that you’re still in control of to force him to lean back against the cushion.

He smirks as he watches your clumsy movements, hands travelling from his chest, to his stomach, until they land on his thighs, feeling the expanse of his skin through his pants. You scoot closer, moving until you’re palming his crotch through the fabric.

He coos. “Aw. Are you trying to make me feel good?”

“Yeah,” you whine, kinda pathetically as you paw at the zipper of his trousers. “Wan—want to prove I’m worth keeping.”

But it’s hard. The zipper isn’t budging no matter how much force you feel like you’re putting in to pull it down. You lay your head on the side of his inner thigh in defeat, staring up at him with a pleading face as you go still.

Sylus only laughs breathlessly as he reaches out to swipe your bottom lip with a thumb, until it catches and forces itself into your mouth. You suck instinctively when he presses down on your tongue, gagging when for a moment he slides it a bit too deep into your throat.

He pulls it out, but not completely—just enough so that he can glide it against your pearly white teeth. “How sweet. But couldn’t you already tell, sweetie? I like you so much. That’s been my plan all along.”

Sylus uses his free hand to finish the job, making quick work in pulling his fly apart and underwear down just enough to free his cock.

Fuck. “So big,” you murmur to yourself, but he catches it anyway.

“Is it?”

It makes you delirious, watching him look down at you like that. You think it should be frightening how natural it feels to slide under his control, but it isn’t. It only keeps making you want to lay all of yourself bare to him, put all this trust in him that truly, he has yet to earn. And at this point, you don’t even care that the high is making you way too honest with the things you want to do with him, the things you want him to do to you. “Yes, it’s so—I wanna put my mouth on it, daddy.”

Sylus takes the new pet name in complete stride, of course he does. Not missing a beat before the smile on his face grows to one that can only be described as something close to sinister, like a grand scheme unfolding exactly how he’s plotted it. “Is that who you want me to be, kitten?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, all too open and easy.

“Then daddy’s got you, hm?” he hums in approval. “What are you waiting for?”

You take a good look at his cock now that it’s right in front of your face, half-excited and half-scared thinking about how all of that is even going to fit in all of you.

You truly have no clue—you just need to keep going to find out—but the dizziness caused by both the weed and your arousal hinders it a lot. You try to start by leaning your head forward and sticking your tongue out just enough so that it can trace a vein on the underside of his cock, and you whimper in tandem to his hiss when the salty taste of his skin hits your tongue.

Trying to work yourself up to bravely fitting him into your mouth, you begin to lick what you can reach softly, trying to apply enough pressure so that Sylus can actually feel something. But your jaw turns sore faster than you expect in your dazed state, and it makes you whine in frustration—you want it to feel good for him, as good as you think he deserves, and the embarrassment of potentially not being able to do that makes something sting at the back of your eyes.

Every time your mouth slides up enough that it catches onto the tip of his cock, you try to take the rest of his length in, but the second you begin to get overwhelmed about just how much you have to take in, you withdraw and go back to—

“Kitten licks,” Sylus notes, not unkindly. “Do you need some help?”

“Please?” A hand comes up to the base of your neck, fingers deceptively gentle as they tread through under your hair, until the facade drops when he twists and wraps it across his knuckles to give him enough leverage and pulls.

You gasp at the force of it, the dull ache that begins to set on your scalp turning into pleasure as he positions your lips against the head of his girth.

“Open up and relax, sweetie. It’ll be easier that way,” is the only warning he gives before he uses his grip to push you down.

Trying your best to adhere to his advice, you force your body to go slack and exhale through your nose, but half the length of his cock is shoved down your throat in one go and you gag at the sudden intrusion.

You shiver once you feel your drool leak from the corners of your mouth down your chin and neck, seeping slowly into the top that you still have on. You feel your eyes water, not spilling quite yet as you try your absolute best to breathe as calmly as you can through your nose.

Sylus keeps you still for a beat, you watch him work through his own slightly-dazed state to process the sight of your mouth failing to accommodate his size.

“Hah, so tight. Kitten, if you can’t fit me down your mouth, how am I going to fit in your cunt?” He questions, and you’re wondering the same thing.

But you can’t ponder on it longer when Sylus decides you’ve had enough time to adjust and begins to use force to bob your head up and down his cock.

It’s so uncomfortable, the more you focus on the way you can feel the slick from your cunt soaking and cooling your underwear. The heat that’s been coiling down there has become near unbearable, yet you can hardly squirm when Sylus’ cock down your throat is making you lightheaded from the restricted air supply. Other sensations fill you too—the smell of both of your sweat mixed with the aftermath of your smoke, how your jaw aches, the whines you’re letting out without your control.

You almost become limp after a while, surrendering your body to your high and zoning out on the suffocation, placing you into a foggy headspace that you have to trust Sylus to guide you through to his satisfaction. He’s started to buck his hips in synchronization to your head, and somewhere in the back of where you’re floating you can hear his deep grunts beginning to grow ragged.

You’re suddenly brought back to the surface when he jerks your head back, and it makes you whimper–whether it’s from the pain of your hair being pulled extra hard or if it’s because of the immediate feeling of emptiness, you can’t tell.

“Can’t let me have all the fun now,” he exhales, bringing himself back down from a near-climax. “Come up, kitten.”

Trembling, you stand anticipating that you’ll sit back on his lap, knees bracketing his thighs when he locks you in place with a strong arm wrapped around your waist. You buckle forward, stomach hitting the edge of the sofa back as Sylus lifts the hem of your top up to expose your waist.

A sharp bite on the meat of your hip causes you to yelp. “You’ve neglected yourself, poor thing,” he feigns sympathy as he uses his free hand to pull your bottoms down, and your legs shake as your cooling slick trails down your thigh with them.

If only Sylus could see your face, how flushed red you are now that you’re exposed to him there. But you’re sure he can feel it as his large hands work their way up and down the warmth of your skin, not quite venturing where you really want him to.

It makes you whine, “Sylus–”

“Ah-ah,” he interrupts. “Try again.”

“Daddy,” you yield immediately, desperate for something. Anything more than this.

“Better. Yes, sweetie?”

“Please touch me.”

“I’m already touching you, aren’t I?”

“No, I—you know what I mean, daddy, please,” you’re unbelieving that you even have to ask, to beg. Can’t he see the state you’re in? How your whole body is pulsating in need? Is it only obvious to yourself, or is he just toying with you? A frustrated sob chokes its way out of your mouth. You don’t want to play this game anymore.

He wraps an arm around the back of your knee and pulls you closer in a mock embrace. “Oh, sweetie,” he murmurs into your stomach. “Don’t be such a sore loser. I’ll always give you what you want eventually.”

But finally, he drags a slow finger along your slit and the contact makes you whimper in relief. “It’ll do you good to learn a little more patience,” Sylus continues. “But we’ve both been anticipating this for far too long. I’m at my limit too.”

Without preamble, he slides two fingers inside you, sinking them almost to the knuckle if not for a large ring on his middle finger stopping it. A loud, sudden cry rips from you then; you have nowhere to go to feel out the new sensation when he’s still got you in a tight hold. “The noises you make are so pretty,” he laughs. “I want to hear every one that I can elicit from you."

It’s not as if you’re trying to sound a particular way, it’s pure instinct as a result of whatever Sylus does to you. A cowering prey at the mercy of a carnivore. Yet his praise makes you visibly preen, making another small, little sound while pressing the plush of your thighs together in an attempt to lock his hand in place to stop the onslaught of your stimulation.

But he’s stronger than you, so it does nothing as he begins to set a relentless pace, immediately pushing the right buttons, carving into all the right places that sets your body alight.

“Does it feel good? Want more?”

What comes out of your mouth in response is a jumbled thing, your answer tangled between no, not yet, it’s too much, I’m not ready and yes, yesyesyesyes—

Evidently, he interprets it as the latter, curling his fingers just like that until he’s right up against the spot that makes you roll your eyes to the back of your skull.

He slaps your ass, then, a hard smack that rings in your ears after. “Stay as sharp as you can, kitten. I want you to feel everything I’m giving you,” he growls before hitting you again, and again, repeated blows that contradict the soft melody that’s still playing from the record player on the far side of the room.

Sylus has you gasp at every impact. And coupled with his fingers, now rapidly picking up speed as he continues to graze where you’re most sensitive inside, it’s all growing to be too much, exceeding your expectations every second when you start to feel more than you ever believed you could.

You fantasize, then. Give into his desires, and this can be your everyday; having this man do what he wants with you, his smart mouth and searing touch that puts you in a space that allows him to do anything, and all of what he decides feels so good, even when it’s painful or unusual or strange.

What little control you have left that’s keeping you in one piece is relinquished to him.

With that, you feel your orgasm fast approaching, but another sensation accompanies it—one that you’ve only anticipated in the past when you were more… well-prepared. “Wait, wait—stop,” you panic at the sudden realization of how expensive your surroundings are. “Daddy, stop, I’m gonna—”

He doesn’t let up. “No, no, let it all out, kitten.”

And your whole body is wracked with violent shivers when you do, searing relief coursing through you as you’re reduced to pitiful mewls. You gush all over his hand, Sylus incessantly wrings you out of everything you’ve got, and it keeps going as your fluids cascade down until it soaks all that sits below you.

Somewhere past your head, you think you can hear him laugh.

By some mercy, he finally rolls to a halt, wet hands moving back to your waist to keep you steady on your knees. After a beat of trying to catch your breath, you open your eyes to see the absolute mess you’ve made. You’ve wet his pants, the couch, and even the rug on the floor. That sobers you up just a bit. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, it got everywhere—”

Sylus just keeps laughing, and you can hear the pure satisfaction in it, disregarding your worry and standing up, taking you with him as he hauls you over a broad shoulder. “I just see it as a kitten marking up her new territory.”

“Sylus,” you hiss, so ashamed. You bat your fists into his back in protest, and he simply gathers both your wrists up into one large hand and forces you to stay still. He hums and begins to walk out of the room.

“Mmm, so it’s Sylus when you’re bearing your claws,” he observes, taking a turn to a flight of stairs. He makes a show of bouncing you in his grip at every step. “But daddy when you’re asking for something. How cunning. You already know how to get what you want from me.”

And what more do you want from him, really? The answer doesn’t come easy, especially in your current state of mind. But you relish in how he’s long established that it could be anything, everything.

It brings you back to cute little giggles that echo down the hallway until he opens the door at the very end, revealing his bedroom, bathed in all the same dark and decadent tones as the rest of the penthouse, a flame already crackling in the central fireplace.

Despite how rough he’s been with you thus far, he puts you down delicately atop a dark silk duvet and you sink into the marshmallow-soft mattress.

You can’t help but let him know. “Wow, comfy…”

“It’s good you think so, sweetie, since you’ll be warming it for me from now on.”

The tip of your ears flare red again, and this time you feel the blush all the way down to your chest. Is that so.

Decidedly, you show how much you like the idea by ridding yourself of what remains of your clothes, tossing it to the side until you’re, at long last, naked before him. Sylus drinks up the sight of you as he strips himself down, drenched pants kicked off onto the floor as he unbuttons his dress shirt, and you can’t help but moan at the novel sight of his bare chest and toned abdomen.

You don’t get to admire it for long, though, because he makes haste to close the distance between you once more by pulling you into a deep kiss, immediately seeking entrance by forcing your lips open with his tongue. “You’re such a darling,” he says in the brief moments you separate for air. “So pretty. How could I not want to ruin you from the moment I saw you?”

He nudges your knees apart with his so that he can properly settle between your legs, his hands moving to help you wrap your legs around his waist then sliding them up to your hips to pull you even closer.

He groans once he has the full length of his cock propped up against your stomach, head parallel to your navel. “Look at how deep I’m going to be, kitten.”

You brave yourself to take a glance down, and you wheeze in intimidation when you do. From your perspective, it’s outright intimidating. But the sudden feeling of how empty you are sets you off-kilter, your determination (or is it your need? your innermost desire?) shines through.

“I need it, daddy,” you beg in a small voice.

“Oh, do you now? And here I thought it was just me.” He’s smiling when he says it.

The bubble of frustration rises up again at his teasing, incessant even at a time like this. “I want to satisfy you,” you beg again, hoping this time he’ll give you want you want, which is to— “satisfy you—your greed,”

“That’s impossible,” he admits in a moment of honesty. “But you’re so sweet for wanting to try, kitten. The sweetest little thing you are. I want to eat you whole.”

You find that you want it too—so much that your body reacts so positively just at the idea, presenting yourself to him on a silver platter. You want Sylus to consume you for everything you are and savor the pleasure of being his most delicious meal.

But any further thoughts that might have begun to form in your head dissipate just as fast when Sylus tightens his hold on you and brings his lips to the side of your neck. He takes his time, claiming all you have to offer as he trails your skin with bruising kisses and bites, no doubt things that will leave marks come morning.

He explores every part of you, all while his cock skims your wet entrance at every movement, and the feeling rushes over you again, as your skin turns red and purple from his attention, that you don’t care anymore about anything else. You need it, you need, it, you need—

One more time, since he’s been so kind to teach you. “Please, daddy, can you come in? I-I need you here.”

You take his large hand in yours and guide it to press against your womb.

The sound that rips out of his mouth is more beast than human. “That’s it,” he groans. “So simple. You tell daddy what you want and you’ll get it.”

A sigh of relief was about to escape you as you watch him align his cock to your hole, but it snuffs out just as fast. The initial stretch of his cock, even after all his hard work, is so painful that it makes you instinctively beat weak fists to his chest—which devastatingly only causes him to slide even deeper, letting out a rumble of low laughter that’s coated in condescending affection when he sees that a stray tear, after everything he’s put you through, has finally managed to escape your eye.

“Shhh, kitten—”

“It hurts so much, daddy—”

“I know. I know it does, sweet girl,” he nods, as if he understands, as if he’s sympathetic. Yet he leans in close to lick the salty, watery path across your cheek with a warm tongue, and he groans in satisfaction—savoring yet another place that you’re leaking from, because of him. “I know it’s difficult. But you’re doing so well, so brave, fitting all of me in you.”

And those words wash right over you, his sugar-coated words that lean just on the right side of demeaning that puts you back down with the threat of drowning in them. You can tell how effortlessly all of this comes to him, and you can tell how much he enjoys how eagerly you’re affected by it.

He takes the time to look down. Halfway in. You can only imagine how the view of your abused cunt fluttering around his cock looks like, the way Sylus can’t keep his darkened eyes off of where the two of you are now joined. The tears flow freely from you now, from both pain and sheer respite, and you can’t decide whether you need him to pause or keep going.

Sylus takes the choice away from you as he pulls you further on him, bottoming out, and your back arches off the bed when you feel him hit the wall of your womb, the farthest part in you that he could possibly reach. “Good girl,” he praises you as if it was a soothing balm. “Such a good girl, the best.”

He lowers his head, baring the meat of his neck to you. “Hold on if you need to, kitten,” he offers, and you make good of your namesake by reaching out and clamping your teeth down onto the fat of his skin there. He lets out a ragged breath and picks up the pace then, fucking you onto his cock in a way so punishing that it leaves you no other option than to just take it.

Your hands struggle to find purchase on something, anything to ground yourself with until they find their way to the thick of his back, nails scratching the surface until they’re breaking skin, marking him as much as you’re sure that he has marked you.

Your saliva leaks from the corners of your mouth—can’t even swallow properly—and trickles down your chin and his shoulder, joining in with your salty tears.

This is everything that you’ve needed. Someone who knows how to take your agency away from you exactly the way you need him to. Someone who knows, intuitively, exactly where he has to touch and press and kiss to make you go dumb, to put you in a fuzzy headspace where all that's required of you is to take everything he wants to give you, because he'll only give you exactly what you need to feed the desire that festers within you.

You want to tell him so, and it takes all of you to pull yourself from where you were latched. “Feels so good, daddy,” you cry. “Fuck, so good, I-I can’t—”

Your head falls back, unable to finish what you were trying to say.

Sylus is enamored.

“Just—just look at you, sweetie,” he coos, admires as you give up on your sentence altogether. He slows his thrusts, just enough to say what he does next with clarity. “You’re like a doll—willing to let me do whatever I want with you. I can throw you around this room and you’d still look at me like I’m the only thing that you want. How would I have been able to live with myself if I allowed you to slip through my fingers?”

And you don’t understand what he’s saying anymore—can’t process it—how Sylus sliding the full length of him in and out of your pussy is making you struggle so much with even forming a simple thought. Are you supposed to feel embarrassed, how your only response is your heavy breathing, rapidly turning pathetic, whiny?

He lets go, lowering you down back to the bed, adjusting his hold so that a hand pushes the back of your knee away and another landing right on top of where you’re connected. A testing graze of a rough thumb parting the folds of your cunt to reach your clit starts causing a new wave of tears to fall.

“Say it, kitten—that you’ll stay like this, pliant on daddy’s cock.”

And how easy it is to be just that—how good he is to you when you’ve opened yourself up for his taking only. It’s no surprise that you’re furiously nodding your head, chasing another wave of pleasure as you squirm under his touch. “Yes! Yes—I will—”

A vision you must look to him, he hisses an inhale and spits onto your clit, using it to knead swirling circles that have you falling quickly into another climax.

“A-are you close, daddy?” You ask, not waiting to hear his answer. You’re already pleading. “I want it inside—inside, daddy. I need it, need it inside, please, pleasepleaseplease—”

And what he pulls you into is less a kiss and more of something violent, your teeth clacking in a way that would be painful if you weren’t almost completely gone, and a perfectly timed bite to your bottom lip is just enough to send you over the edge once more.

It has you panicking, your nails notching themselves deep into his shoulder blades, and he’s growling in both the pain of it and the pleasure of your cunt clenching around him in a deliciously heated grip as your orgasm coerces and works itself out of your trembling body.

“I’ll give you all of it, hah—” Sylus rasps, evidently near his end too, he speeds up, driving his whole length in and out of you, and the overstimulation is dizzying, you keep crying, you’ve got almost everything that you’ve wanted except for this one last thing.

“Please.”

A rough and heavy hand presses your lower stomach and it makes you feel his every jolt and stutter against your deepest parts, hot white of his come warming you from the inside and fighting the reduced space, leaking from your cunt onto the already-ruined sheets.

When his momentum finally slows and almost comes to a stop, you try to push him out of you with what little strength you can muster, thinking it must be time to wash up because you don’t know what else Sylus would want from you now that he’s taken everything you’ve got.

But somehow, he’s still impossibly hard, and he doesn’t allow his cock to slip out of you, an audible tsk at your feeble attempt.

You look up to take one good look at his gleaming ruby eyes. Sylus bores into you like he’s seizing prey once more, and you know immediately—you’re surrendering the rest of the day, maybe even the night, the rest of your life, to keep fulfilling that insatiable desire of his. And you’d be a fool to even think that this was enough for a man like him.

“More.”

When you wake, the moon is high in the sky, slipping in from the crack in the curtain and bathing Sylus’ bedroom in soft cool blues.

You lift your head from where it rested on his chest, to find that sobriety has set in during your sleep. You regard him, already up, in full clarity as he types on his phone with one hand, brightness set low so as to not disturb you. You feel the sensation of his other hand rubbing absentminded circles against the back of your neck.

“Your supervisor says that while you were ‘very promising and shaping up to be a very valuable member of the team,’ that they ‘understand your situation and wish you the best.’ You must have sold yourself short when you told me you weren’t doing well, sweetie. They seemed to have regarded you highly.”

“What?! You… quit my job for me?” You look into his eyes, which show only smug satisfaction and zero remorse for the decision he’s just made on your life. This guy’s crazy. “What did you even say?”

“Don’t worry, the exchange was professional. Your track record is still clean should you for some reason ever want to return to the workforce.”

“But, my rent, Tara—”

“I could buy your apartment in her name so you won’t have to worry about that. She’s a good friend, isn’t she? She’d deserve it for taking such good care of you all this time,” he pinches your cheek, places his phone down on the nightstand. “Finances will no longer be a problem for you. I’ve already transferred a year’s worth of what you would have earned at that job into your account. My… girlfriend isn’t allowed to be broke.”

“Are you serious?”

Sylus huffs, gently moving you under him as he climbs on top of your still-naked form, turning you so that you face the smooth silk sheets, still soiled with the combination of you and Sylus’ sweat and mess.

“Are you really asking me that now? Haven’t I shown my sincerity?”

A hand caresses up the small of your back until it lands on a bite on your shoulder blade that’s just beginning to bruise. You gasp as he presses down on it, just hard enough for the dull ache to turn sharp. He lowers himself until his mouth ghosts over your reddening ears. “It seems I’ll just have to keep going until you understand… just how deep my devotion runs.”

You may have just sold your soul.

You cry out into the pillow when he sinks the entire length of his cock into you again in one effortless glide.

“No one’s around this late at night, don’t hide. Won’t you spoil your daddy by letting him hear your sweet little sounds? Just like how I’ll spoil you too. You’ll want for nothing, kitten.”

And honestly, you suppose that you can get used to this.

end; thanks for reading!

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