꒰ ♡ ꒱ hi everyone! u can call me Umi! Im 21 years old, a full time college student, cat mom, sanrio + horror luvr, smut n fluffly fic writer (duh lol)
꒰ ♡ ꒱ my current fandom and the reason i made this blog is love and deepspace! ill likely end up in other fandoms and write for them too but for now, its just that one <3
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I'm dying to know when you'll post the new chapter of His Watchful Eye, like no pressure but do you have any specific date in mind already?
I figured a lot of you were wondering this so I wanted to be a bit transparent. The next part is done. It just needs editing! But I haven’t been doing too well with balancing my irl life and have been feeling swamped with my personal responsibilities. Also something very difficult happened recently so I haven’t exactly sat down to finish it either :(
This doesn’t mean it’s getting abandoned! I have every intention to finish HWE! I’m just human and have moments of hardship. Thank you guys for your patience and continued interest while I navigate my irl life. I promise it’s still coming, just have a bumpy road block in my life rn 🤍
summary: how I imagine Sylus to act like with his baby girl ˆ ̳◝ ·̫ ◜ ̳ˆ
content: fluff, a baby!, nicknames (princess)
୨୧・。。・♡・∴・♡・。。・୨୧
the first time Sylus held her, he thought his heart might break
she was so small, so fragile in his arms, her tiny fingers curling around one of his own, barely able to hold on. but she did—her grip surprisingly firm, as if claiming him as hers
he never stood a chance
from that moment on, she owned him
and he didn’t mind.
—
“dada! look!”
his daughter’s voice rang through the grand halls of their home, bright and full of excitement. Sylus turned his head just in time to see her barreling toward him, holding something behind her back
he caught her before she could crash into his legs, lifting her effortlessly into his arms
“what is it, little princess?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head
she giggled, revealing a stuffed toy—a little red dragon
Sylus raised a brow “another one?”
she nodded eagerly “it looks like you!”
he let out a low chuckle, brushing a silver strand of hair from her face “you think I look like a dragon?”
“mhm! but a nice one,” she said, wrapping her small arms around his neck “the nicest!”
Sylus exhaled softly, pressing her closer
“of course I am,” he murmured “how could I not be when I have the prettiest little girl in the world?”
she giggled again, squirming in his hold “mama says I look like you, too!”
he smirked “oh? then she must be wrong”
she pouted “why?”
“because you look just like her”
her little brows furrowed, thinking it over. then, as if deciding this was acceptable, she nodded “okay!”
Sylus smiled, running a gentle hand through her hair
she was perfect.
—
Sylus didn’t trust anyone else to make her food
not because your chefs weren’t skilled—no, it was because he enjoyed doing it himself
he’d wake up early, rolling up his sleeves, carefully preparing her favorite meals. little sandwiches cut into stars, warm soup when she wasn’t feeling well, tiny pancakes in the shape of hearts—because she demanded it
and every single time, without fail, she would take one bite, look up at him with those big, adoring eyes, and declare—
“dada, you’re the best cook in the whole world!”
he’d smirk, ruffling her hair “of course I am. did you think I’d let you eat anything less than perfect?”
she’d shake her head furiously, her little feet kicking beneath the table “nope! because you love me!”
he pressed a kiss to her forehead
“more than anything, little princess.”
—
“dada, I need a new dress!”
Sylus leaned back against the couch, watching as his daughter climbed into his lap, determined and serious
“do you?” he mused, amused
she nodded firmly “yes! a pink one!”
he hummed, considering “but don’t you already have pink dresses?”
“but not this pink,” she insisted “I saw one with sparkles!”
he smirked, lifting her slightly so she sat properly on his lap
“I suppose we’ll have to get it, then” he said, tapping her nose
she gasped dramatically “really?!”
“did you think I’d say no?”
she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck “never!”
he chuckled, stroking her back “besides, how else will you be the prettiest girl in the world?”
she beamed, nuzzling into his shoulder
“mama says i already am!”
“that’s because your mother is smart,” he murmured “but she’s wrong about one thing”
“what?”
he pulled back slightly, tilting her chin up
“you’re not just the prettiest,” he whispered “you’re the most beautiful. just like her”
her eyes shone, and for a moment, she was speechless. then she grinned, pressing a loud, smacking kiss to his cheek
“I love you, dada!”
his heart clenched, warmth spreading through him
“I love you more, little princess”
—
at night, when the world was quiet and soft, he would sit by her bed, watching as her little chest rose and fell with each sleepy breath
he never thought he’d have this
never thought he deserved this
but somehow, against all odds, against fate itself—he did
and he would protect it. always.
he leaned down, pressing a final kiss to her forehead, brushing stray strands of hair from her face
“sleep well, my little princess,” he whispered “dada will always be here.”
and as he left her room, stepping into the dimly lit hallway, he found you waiting
you smiled softly, arms wrapping around his waist.“she really has you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”
he smirked, pulling you closer “as if you don’t”
you laughed, pressing a kiss to his jaw “I love you”
Sylus sighed, his hand cupping the back of your head, holding you against him
“I love you, too” he murmured, his voice softer than usual
someone on twitter is trying to claim that use of an em-dash is an indication of AI-generated writing because it’s “relatively rare” for actual humans to use it. skill issue
This is a sign of AI now??? No way??? This is hilarious to me cause I’m an English major and it’s practically engrained in me to use em dash atp. Now my grammar and writing isn’t perfect (esp when I write fanfiction and not like an essay or something, then I tend to be a little less proper) but best believe I’m using em dash at least a little. I hate how Ai has changed writing. Can’t even use proper writing techniques anymore 😭
Just thinking about Sylus giving you attitude when he mimics your words during the event, but he really hates when you flip it back on him... especially when it means you stop begging/talking to him next time you have sex as revenge.
Best believe he's pounding you deep into the mattress as soon as he realized what you're doing, nonstop filth coming out of his mouth as he begs you to forgive him and let him hear you once more as you fight nearly to tears to keep your sounds muffled just to torture him a little longer.
♱⋅── a/n: 2.4k of filth and Sylus being absolutely whipped for you, doing anything you ask just to earn your forgiveness.
He’s insufferable.
The way he mimics you—voice pitched high in a cruel, sing-song lilt—makes your blood boil.
"Sylus, Sylus," he taunts, leaning down to moan into the shell of your ear, "Please, Sylus, slow down. Too big, too much. Sylus."
You shove him hard, your frustration met only with his low, infuriating chuckle as you storm away.
But later, when Sylus coaxes you back into bed as if nothing happened, as if his little stunt is already forgotten—you remind yourself that you haven’t forgotten.
And you certainly won’t let him go unpunished.
Sylus always fucks you like he loves you. Like he’s obsessed with you. Every hulking inch of his six-foot-something body pressed down onto yours in devotion only the vulnerability of skin on skin could provide. Every slow, languid thrust jostling your entire body, inching the two of you up the mattress until he drags you back down by the grip on your leg, leaving a kiss on your ankle as he does so.
And god, he feels good. Always does. Hot and heavy, rambling praises and sweet promises into your neck as your nails dig bloody lines into every rigid plane of muscle across Sylus’s back.
One of his hands cups the eternity of your lower back, pulling your hips flush against his, the other gently tugging your chin up to his gaze, brows furrowed as his eyes dart between yours, clouded in confusion and concern.
Because despite his efforts, you haven't made a single sound for the past twenty minutes.
Good, he deserved to feel guilty.
You huff, pouting, jerking your chin out from his palm as you swat his arm away.
“You… Are you alright?” Sylus stops moving completely, cock throbbing against your walls, and the sudden lack of stimulation has you writhing.
Before he can pull out entirely, you grab his shoulder as leverage, shooting him one last glare before beginning to fuck yourself up against him.
The man is merely stunned into silence, unsure whether to stop or continue as you continue grinding your hips up, chasing your own pleasure as you use him as little more than a toy—refusing to let even a whimper past your teeth as your thighs begin to shake.
Still chasing your own orgasm, you’re too busy to see the concern melt off Sylus’s face, quickly replaced with a wicked grin as he realizes what you’re playing at.
Oh, so you’re still mad? Did he hit a nerve earlier?
Sylus sighs, feigning disappointment as he watches you struggle to keep quiet, poor hands clawing and grappling against him as you struggle to take him on your own. Effort straining your muscles, his cock a tight fit without his help. What a fussy little kitten he has.
Sitting back on his heels, you hiss in frustration as the new angle forces his cock to slip right out, smacking against his abs with a lewd sound as your combined slick drips down his heaving stomach.
“Are you still upset about what I said earlier?”
You huff, turning your head to the side as you prop yourself up on your elbows, about to climb onto Sylus’s lap to finish yourself off something stops you halfway. A hand pushes against your chest, forcing you back down onto the mattress with an angry groan, already missing the feeling of him filling you.
Struggling is pointless, Sylus’s entire weight trained on keeping you pinned beneath him, palm large enough to encircle your neck as it travels up, squeezing ever so lightly.
“Not even going to respond?” You bare your teeth in a mock snarl and Sylus laughs, that annoyingly arrogant grin back on his face. ”Where did all your manners go? This kitten sure knows how to hold a grudge.”
You know he’s baiting you, trying to get a rise out of you, goading you into talking. And it nearly damn works, having to bite your tongue as you glare up at him with all the ferocity you can muster when he begins kissing around your knee and inner thigh, depriving you of his cock as he leans down onto his stomach.
“Mhm, I’m sorry. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?” Sylus asks, sweeter than honey, words muffled into your inner thigh, each one coming out in between shaky breaths as he inhales deeply against you. “Please, let me hear you again.” another kiss, ” Please let me hear your voice.”
He takes a moment to enjoy the view of you, spread open and desperate even as you stubbornly deny him his favorite thing in the world—your moans. He smiles, squeezing your hips and dragging you closer until your thighs are draped over his, knees bent. You shiver as his breath ghosts over your core, his thumbs pulling apart your lips.
The combined mess from earlier is still splattered across your skin, and Sylus wastes no time before dragging his tongue across it. He can’t help it, you taste so good. Sound even better, if only you’d stop this ridiculous game.
Nipping and kissing into your thighs, Sylus never breaks eye contact as he works his way down to your poor fluttering pussy, blowing cool air just to watch you shiver. And when he suddenly latches his lips onto your clit, flicking his tongue up, you nearly forget about revenge. A moan rips from your throat, and only by slapping a palm over your mouth do you manage to muffle it, shaking into Sylus’s mouth as he growls between board strokes of his tongue.
“Don’t. Do not hide them from me.”
Sylus’s hand immediately comes up, forcing your palm off your mouth. Still eating you out, his hand encircles both your wrists for good measure, pinning them to the mattress.
Sylus knows how to play your body too well, hot tongue circling your clit in slow, devoted motions until breaking away, fucking into your cunt as he watches in smug victory as you grind against the perfect arch of his nose in ways you know will bring you over the edge far too quickly. His usual patience is gone, only desperation remains. Desperation to prove himself, desperation to break you.
You swear you nearly taste blood with how hard you’re biting your lip.
He's making out with your pussy like a man starved, the way he refuses to part even long enough to breathe, the way his hands are still holding your wrists tight enough to bruise, the way he's still fucking begging you to let him hear your voice. You’re coming before you can help it, forcing your head to the side as you bite into the pillow, muffling your cries as you barely stop yourself from saying his name.
Sylus doesn't miss it. He lets out a noise that's half whine, half groan, before sitting back on his heels, pulling his tongue out of your pussy and replacing it with two thick fingers.
"That hardly counts, I could barely hear you." You try to ignore the way he crawls back over you, swollen lips glistening with your release, his entire body trembling at the mere sight of you coming undone. "Was my apology not enough? I'll do more. I'd do anything to earn your forgiveness."
Sylus kisses your bruised thighs again, above your womb, your stomach, chest. It's a trail of fire up your body, worshiping every inch he can reach as the pads of his fingers curling to push against that spongy spot inside of you. It's so hard not to make a sound, especially when Sylus has the gall to press his forehead against your temple, whispering pleas in your ear as he continues fucking you with his fingers.
"I just need to hear your voice again, pretty thing, just a little. I want to hear how good I make you feel. Please."
"Sy--" Fuck. You barely stopped yourself, shaking your head violently as you claw at Sylus's biceps, pulling his arm in closer, faster.
Sylus all but whines at the denial of his name.
He lowers himself entirely, each ragged breath hot against your ear just like his neglected cock, twitching and leaking against your stomach.
“Please, let me make it up to you. I’d give you anything, everything you could ever want.” His fingers curl, hitting your g-spot with cruel accuracy even as he continues begging so, so sweetly. “I’ll be—“ a lick across your ear, “such—" sucking the sensitive shell, “—a good boy."
Your moan is strangled, barely audible, breaking through your clenched jaw, but the way your whole body convulses lets Sylus know you're close. He kisses you hard, swallowing every sound, his hand never ceasing between your legs.
"You're going to forgive me now, won't you, sweetie?" He coos, and when you nod desperately, Sylus pulls back to watch your face. "Say my name, say it, please. Please, talk to me. You know I can’t even cum anymore without hearing your voice. Hearing you ask for me, my cum."
The confession is filthy, and does horrible, terrible things to you.
“You—” you growl, frustration thick in your voice, hating how easily you gave in. “You’re disgusting. Mean.”
Sylus’s eyes nearly roll back at that—at the sound of your voice after so long. You sound divine, even when you're furious. He groans, rutting his hips against you, the underside of his cock dragging along your stomach as you hiss in faux disgust.
“Oh? So you are talking to me finally?” he moans, reveling in the feel of your heat wrapped around his fingers, your slick on his lips, the way your glare flickers between hatred and something far more dangerous.
"Again,” he pants, “call me that again."
"Disgusting."
Sylus bites his lip, moaning low into your ear as he grinds against you, his touch relentless.
"Mean," you sneer, trying to shove him away, but you are powerless against his hulking body, every inch pressing close enough to have you gasping for breath.
"Awful."
"You’re,” Your breath catches as his fingers quicken, his thumb circling your clit with devastating precision. You’re going to come again. “Fucking evil.”
"Yeah,” Sylus repeats, chuckling, eyes half-lidded and dazed as he watches you convulse around his fingers, “I’m the big, bad, evil villain.”
So mean isn’t he? Cooing sweetly as you come undone, violently squirting as your cum drips down his wrist and forearm. If you want evil, then he can do that. He can earn your forgiveness and have you beg for it too.
It's all too much. The man is a demon, a monster, an angel, and his fingers are working you up to the highest heavens, the way he looks down at you in reverence as his hair falls in a messy curtain, a look of utter adoration on his face. And the way his cock, red and throbbing, presses against the juncture of your hip and thigh, dripping precum down the length as he neglects it all for you.
But you want him. All of him.
"Sylus."
He moans, loud and deep, like the sound of his name on your lips is enough to undo him. You can’t help it—you’re crying now, hot tears burning at the corners of your eyes as you gasp for air.
"Sylus, Sylus. Sylus." Your voice cracks, raw with need. "M’sorry. Please, I want—ah fuck—I need you, fuck. Want all of you. Sylus."
He’s on you before you can finish, mouth crashing into yours, kissing you with a feverish intensity that would bruise any other's lips. He kisses you like he’s starving, swallowing every syllable, every whimper, like he’s terrified you’ll take it all back.
And then—you feel it. The sudden, hot spray of his cum between your bodies, painting your stomach and chest with thick, copious amounts of it as he whines into the kiss. Untouched, undone just from your voice, from the way you’re finally his again.
"Thank you, thank you," Sylus groans against your lips, voice wrecked, relief pouring out of him like he’s been waiting an eternity just to hear you say those words. He’s still cumming.
He keeps his fingers moving, edging you dangerously close to another orgasm, until you're practically squirming in his grip. Even then, he doesn't stop, he doesn't remove his fingers. He pulls back just far enough to watch your face, eyes wide and searching.
"Again, kitten, again. Please, keep saying my name."
"Sylus."
Your body is trembling, and his hand doesn't stop until you're squirming away, the stimulation too much. Only then does Sylus finally pull his fingers out, licking them clean, the other hand cupping the back of your head as he kisses you again.
"Forgive me?"
You nod, and Sylus grins, fanged and fucked-out.
"Say it out loud for me."
You scoff, "Yes. I forgive you."
"Perfect. Then I might have to ask for your forgiveness again."
And just as he finishes his confession, your knees are pressed up to your ears, folding you in half as Sylus slides back into your dripping cunt. Without any resistance the entirety of his length thrusts deep inside of you, your lower stomach bulging ever so slightly from his girth, your mind blanking as you’re spread wide against the muscular jut of Sylus’s hips. His hands are everywhere, gripping your hair, squeezing your neck, grabbing at your waist and hips, pulling you up into every thrust.
"Forgive me, you're so perfect. So beautiful." He kisses along your neck, whispering his praises and compliments, forcing his thumb into your mouth as he pries your lips open to hear you better. "Never keep these sounds from me again, understand?"
You moan a yes around his thumb, and Sylus growls.
"That's a good girl."
He doesn’t relent. Sylus effortlessly begins guiding you to meet his thrusts with one hand, the other remaining pressed against your abdomen, stroking at the outline of his dick pressing through with every rock forward. Large hands splay your thighs wider, closer, impossibly stretching you out until all you can feel is him.
“Forgive me.” Your breasts jolt with each thrust and before he can stop himself Sylus leans down and bites, nipping and licking into the sensitive peak as you sob from the pain and pleasure. It makes you dizzy, the gentle licks and kisses over your skin in mock apology until he bites down again. And again.
There’s no remorse in Sylus’s voice anymore, only pussydrunk and obsessed. “Please, forgive me.” Utterly obsessed.
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hey i've noticed that someone translated 'shattered birdcage' but didn't see if you gave them your permission. if all's great and you know about it you don't need to answer but i'd like to report to the website's administration if not. take care💕
Hey!! If it’s on ficbook (I think that’s the website??) then yes, they did reach out and ask for permission for translation!! So it’s all good, thank you for letting me know though!!
If anyone else wants to translate any of my works, don’t be scared to reach out! Just ask first 🤍
I wonder what the twins think of Sylus in HWE. Like they are obviously loyal to him, but I feel like on the inside, they totally think he is crazy lol (with him kidnapping MC and whatnot).
I also had a thought regarding MC's question about them meeting under normal circumstances. It would be interesting to see Sylus have a dream one night of what could have been if they met more normally like in the game 🤷♀️. Maybe he dreams of them in an AU like the canon universe where they have a totally healthy relationship despite living totally opposite lives (giving Dawnbreaker vibes 👀).
Great job on the fic and can't wait to know how this will end (I am really rooting for MC to get her old life back in some way idk ✌️)
The twins are incredibly loyal and no doubt share some of the same sentiments Yan!Sylus has regarding MC needing to just accept her new life. In their eyes, there’s no place safer than with Yan!Sylus. (Granted, they weren’t around for the majority of what was said and done to MC when she was locked in the room, but they definitely have an idea).
But they know better than to get involved or try to persuade Yan!Sylus when his mind is set on something anyways. They’ve been told it’s all for the greater good so they trust that he knows best.
Although they’ve probably had a few giggles about Yan!Sylus losing his marbles over losing MC (since they’ve never seen him that way before) and they find it pretty entertaining to be going on the hunt like this. Luke however is definitely terrified of the disastrous consequences if they don’t find her considering he’s technically the reason she got away in the first place…😆
I plan to explore more of Yan!Sylus’s pov, and he’s definitely going to be having intense dreams as he gets more and more desperate to find MC and their daughter, so stay tuned ;)
Chapter 18 should be done this week. Been working on it bit by bit in between classes and doing assignments! 🤍
How I imagine the LADS Men take care of you when you're sick
[requested by: depressed but well dressed anon]
𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎
ready and willing to take care of you, but also is in his ‘I told you so’ era because he knew you’d end up getting sick
will do everything and anything you tell him
would let you lay on his shoulder or in his lap while you nap
even though he’s with you constantly to take care of you he somehow manages to not get sick
brings you medicine and a glass of water
cooks you homemade soup and will feed you if you let him
depending on how sick you are he would take time off from work to look after you
for my girlies who cry a little when they dont feel good he would wipe your tears for you “Don’t cry this sickness is only temporary”
if hes still working he’ll always try to be there until you fall asleep and rushes home to you
leaves soup in the fridge for you when he’s not there
𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕
teases you for getting sick until he realizes youre sad “Aw cutie are you not feeling well?” “I hate it here” “Tell me what you need”
Doesn’t want to get sick so yes he’d bring you whatever you ask for but he’s wearing a mask and gloves ; avoids kisses “once you’re no longer contagious I'll give you a kiss”
doesn’t mind telling you stories or humming you songs to get you to sleep
would feed you, but be prepared to never hear the end of it “You’re just a sick girl who needs my help in your time of need I know I know my services are impeccable” “Can I have my tea now?”
mocks and teases you when you get fussy about anything “I can’t stand you” “Good thing you’re laying down then huh?”
gets sick anyway because his dumbass would eat off your spoon/fork or drink something of yours
you two end up sick in bed together and he’s even more whiny now
lots of cuddles and kisses now since he got himself sick
doom scrolls with you while laying in your lap
Thomas has to come and take care of the two of you
𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛
I wouldn't be me if I didn’t say it ; PAGING NURSE XAVIER
he’s at your side in a split second
so excited to have free reign in your kitchen ; immediately tries to make you soup and burns the pot
blows the kitchen up in your house/apartment ends up having to take care of you at his place
finally orders you soup and medicine after you cried because you didn’t want his cooking
he sleeps when you sleep
constantly checking your temperature
doesn’t mind carrying you around the house he knows you can walk, but he likes having you draped over him
blows your nose for you ; puts the tissue to your nose “Blow.” “Thats what she said” “…..your snot is dripping please blow”
sore throat? he’s right there daily with a spoonful of honey “Here its good for you”
can easily handle you when you get fussy about taking medicine “That was quite the tantrum” as he shoves the medicine in your mouth
𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜
already knew you were coming down with something he already has everything ready to go
picks you up and takes you to his place ;has his chef prepare home remedies tailored just for you
brings you everything himself ; you also have the twins at your disposal
sits bedside and encourages you to eat as much as you can “take two more bites and then you can go back to sleep”
still tries to kiss you even though you’re sick because he doesn’t give a damn “Sylus I'll get you sick stop” steals a kiss here and there anyway ; gets sick like two weeks later
wipes and blows your nose for you “You look like a sick kitten” “Shut it”
doesn’t care when you get fussy about taking medicine “Are you done? Good. Here.”
if you want to stay in bed all day thats fine ; if you want to cling to him like a Koala around the house thats fine too he’ll carry you
lets you sleep on him and steal his warmth
checks your breathing when you sleep longer than usual
leaves the twins to keep an eye on you if he needs to step out ; leaves Mephisto to watch you if he needs to take the twins with him
the type to give you a massage even if you’re not having body aches
𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚋
is already at your doorstep with groceries and medicine
keeps you close to him and in sight at all times
your personal chef truly ; he’s wrapping you in a blanket and laying you on the couch while he makes you something to eat
checks your temperature regularly ; gives you medicine like clockwork
spoon feeds you so you don’t have to lift a finger
reminds you that you don’t need to thank him ; he’ll always take care of you no matter what
cuddles you while you sleep after cleaning your place ; puts a humidifier in your room if you’re congested
tries to make you laugh so you’re not sad ; reminds you that he’ll always be there for you so no need to be sad
wipes and blows your nose for you “Your scrunched up face is adorable”
teases you if you ask for a massage if you’re having body aches ; of course he’s overjoyed to do it though “You know I'll give you a massage whenever you want”
says he won’t kiss you while your sick ; ends up kissing you out of habit and gets a little sick “Now it’s your turn to take care of me”
Hii! I don’t know if you already got a question like this, but do you have any tips for writers who cringe at their own smut or have you experienced this yourself before? Because I always wanna hide when I post something that involves smut, but my readers seem to like it😞
PS: I love you you are an amazing writer and such an inspiration!🧎🏽♀️
I’ll be honest, I have no good tips for you cause once a story is proof read and edited I NEVER reread it due to cringing at my own writing! I think this is just once of those things that will happen regardless. Like I know it’s not badly written but it’s the fact what it was written by me 😭
One thing I can say though is that I am pretty desensitized to writing smut for the most part, I can write it with a blank face now but rereading once it’s out it is a whole different story lol.
Thank you for the kind words!! I’m sorry I can’t be much help, I am very much embarrassed by my works at times so your not alone in that feeling at least! 😭🤍
Dude "shattered birdcage" was SO good!! And the end?? It was so soft :(( (almost makes me want to ask for a part 2 or something.. I wanna know how the relationship between sylus and mc is affected by it.. 👉🏽👈🏽)
Thank you!! Omg a part 2 would definitely be interesting to write!! I imagine Sylus would feel like a monster and want to make it up to us in every way he could. Tending to our wounds, feeding us, holding us, etc. Maybe even having sex with us the “right” way when we were ready? 🥹
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Hello! Will you add chapter 17 of HWE to the masterlist? I binge read the whole story in two days and it's now easily my favorite lads fic 🤍 Looking forward to the following chapters!
Omggg I didn’t even realize part 17 wasn’t on the master list, it’s been fixed!! Ty for letting me know LOL. It must’ve slipped my mind with everything going on with school 😭.
I’m working on chapter 18 now since I finally got and set up my new pc!! Should be out pretty soon!! 🤍
Summary: Sylus loses control due to the Frenzy Enhancer and you don't find the activater in time...causing him to become sexually aggressive and desperate to claim you for himself :3
Tags: praedator!Sylus x fem!reader, predator x prey, noncon, intense choking, rough sex, forced orgasm, degradation, biting, blood, injury, cunnilingus, creampie, threats, mentions of breeding, nicknames like little bird, near death experience (no one actually dies don't worry!!), fluffy ending to soften the blow :33
AN: Hiii guys!! Are we enjoying the new banner? I AM! This is literally a dream come true for me. So I decided to write a fic based on it with a little twist hehe. Please heed the warnings guys, this is a very intense fic and I tagged it accordingly. This is legitmately straight up noncon, not cnc. If you asked for a tag and weren't tagged its cause I couldn't find your age on your profile anywhere, sorry! Enjoy!
You exhale slowly, fingers brushing over the edges of the movie tickets still tucked in your pocket before letting them go. The paper crinkles softly, a fragile reminder of something almost normal. But it doesn’t belong to you anymore. Maybe it never did.
Then, the world shatters.
The fire alarm shrills, a piercing, agonizing wail that erupts through the hospital like a banshee’s scream. Panic spreads instantly, as sudden and violent as a tidal wave crashing over an unprepared shore.
The chaos begins.
Screams.
Heavy, frantic footsteps thunder down the halls. The sterile walls of the hospital, once cold and quiet, now tremble with the desperate energy of fear. The mechanical beep of heart monitors, the faint hum of fluorescent lights—all of it drowns beneath the raw, unfiltered sound of survival.
Somewhere outside your room, a woman’s voice splinters the air.
"Fire! Help!"
Her cry is swallowed by the deafening roar of the alarm, by the clatter of overturned medical carts, by the stampede of bodies flooding the halls. A shadow streaks past the glass window of your door, her silhouette vanishing into the growing plumes of smoke curling along the ceiling.
Then—movement behind you. You turn, locking eyes with Sylus. He doesn’t flinch.
He leans casually against the wall, utterly unbothered by the pandemonium unraveling around you. Smoke licks at the edges of his leather top, but he remains still, red eyes gleaming with something sharp, knowing, entertained. The ghost of a smirk plays at his lips.
"They’re right on schedule," he murmurs, his voice smooth, unaffected, like this is nothing more than a carefully executed performance.
He extends his hand toward you, as if inviting you into a dance.
Your pulse kicks up, but you don’t hesitate. You take his hand.
His fingers curl around yours—strong, steady, warm despite the growing heat. With a single pull, you propel yourself forward, slipping past the threshold of the hospital room and into the chaos beyond.
Smoke greets you first, thick and curling, its acrid tendrils slithering into your lungs like a living thing. The air is already changing—heat warping it, bending it, making it heavier. The moment you inhale, your throat burns. You clamp your sleeve over your mouth, but the effort is futile. The stench of burning plastic and antiseptic chemicals invades your senses, clawing at your eyes, your nose, your lungs.
Outside, the scene is worse.
Patients in hospital gowns stumble through the smoke, their movements disjointed, frantic. Some clutch at IV stands like lifelines, others trip over their own feet, disoriented by the blaring alarms and the thick, suffocating haze.
Doctors and nurses shout over the chaos, their voices lost in the hurricane of fear. Someone grabs your arm—a patient, her face streaked with sweat and panic, begging for help—but you pull away. You don’t have time.
You aren’t here to run.
You and Sylus move against the current, pushing past the flood of bodies surging toward the exits. The sheer force of them is overwhelming, a sea of desperation crashing around you, dragging you under. A body collides with yours their fingers tangling in your sleeve—but you break free, heart hammering as you surge toward the stairwell.
"We’ll lead them to the rooftop!" you yell, the words raw in your throat.
Sylus doesn’t answer, but he’s right beside you, his presence like a gravitational pull you can’t escape.
The stairwell looms ahead, doors thrown open as black smoke pours inside, bleeding into the emergency lights like a living shadow. The second you reach it, you don’t hesitate.
You take the stairs two, three at a time, Sylus still close behind you.
The heat is worse here. It rises from below, clawing at your legs, your back, the nape of your neck. Your breath comes in ragged bursts, your lungs searing, aching, screaming for fresh air. Each step feels like an eternity, each turn of the stairwell winding tighter, suffocating.
But you don’t stop.
Then—light.
A final shove against the rooftop doors, and you break through.
The moment you stumble outside, the temperature drops violently.
The cold slaps you across the face, stealing the breath from your lungs, shocking your overheated body into momentary stillness. The wind howls, slicing through the thick sweat on your skin, tangling through your hair, but it does nothing to mute the screams below.
And these screams are different.
Not panicked. Not desperate.
Dying.
A sickening weight drops into your stomach. Sylus steps up beside you, his stance tense, rigid, watchful. He doesn’t need to say it. You already know.
Ever’s assassins are here.
Your skin prickles as you scan the rooftop, the smoke too thick, the night too quiet. You can feel it in your bones—something is waiting.
Then—a shadow moves.
Then another.
Then—
Gunfire.
The first shot splits the air like a knife through silk.
You react instinctively, twisting your body out of the way as the bullet slams into the concrete near your foot, sending a sharp spray of dust and shattered stone into the air.
Another shot.
Sylus shoves you sideways, his movements lightning-fast, the force of it throwing you just out of the bullet’s path. Another impact—a bullet embedding itself into the rooftop behind where you had been standing only seconds before.
A crack split the air, followed by another. Sparks erupted as bullets ricocheted off metal pipes and rooftop vents, spraying embers into the night. Instinct kicked in before thought—you dropped low, rolling to the side just as a round zipped past your ear, embedding itself in the wall behind you.
Sylus moved with effortless precision, dodging fire as if it were choreographed. His jacket billowed as he twisted, reaching for his blade. A flash of steel. A wet gurgle. One assassin crumpled before he even realized he was dead.
You pivoted on your heel, raising your own weapon. A pull of the trigger—a sharp crack through the air. The man before you barely had time to react before the bullet found its mark. His body jerked violently, blood misting into the wind before he collapsed.
Another shot. Another fall.
They kept coming.
More shadows emerged from the darkness, gunfire tearing through the night in an unrelenting onslaught. You both wove through them like ghosts, striking fast, striking first. Your heart pounded as you ducked beneath a swing, countering with a sharp jab to the ribs, twisting your opponent’s wrist until his own weapon turned against him. A single shot. A final breath.
Sylus barely broke a sweat, his movements fluid, brutal, decisive. He drove his blade into one assassin’s chest, twisting just enough to make it agonizing. The man gasped, a short, choked sound before Sylus wrenched the blade free and let him drop.
"Pathetic," he muttered, stepping over the body without a second glance.
More gunfire. More bodies dropping.
Silence.
The last assassin twitched once, then stilled, his fingers curling in the pool of blood spreading beneath him. The night was thick with the scent of gunpowder, metal, and death.
And then—sirens.
A chorus of wailing alarms grew louder in the distance, flashing red and blue bleeding into the night sky.
The battlefield of bodies lay still, the chaos settled into an eerie quiet. The stench of gunpowder and iron filled your lungs, coating your throat with the acrid tang of death. The last spent cartridges hit the concrete, rolling in slow, uneven circles before finally resting among the carnage. Smoke lingered in the cold night air, twisting in delicate tendrils around the lifeless figures strewn across the rooftop.
You pushed out a slow breath, feeling the adrenaline still burning in your veins. Your fingers flexed around the grip of your weapon before you finally holstered it. The police would be here soon, their sirens growing louder in the distance, but they weren’t your concern. These bodies—the nameless, faceless pawns of Ever—would be cleaned up. Their presence erased. Their deaths categorized as classified in some sealed document, buried beneath bureaucratic nonsense.
"Sylus, we're clear! Let's move!" your voice came out sharper than you intended, urgency overtaking you.
He didn’t respond right away.
He was standing unnervingly still, his usual cocky demeanor replaced with something unreadable. His expression was neutral, but there was an intensity in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, a glint of something dark that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. His movements were slow as he wiped away the smear of blood on his cheek, his fingers leaving faint streaks of red against his skin. The way he stood—too relaxed, too quiet—set off alarm bells in your mind, though you couldn’t yet pinpoint why.
Something in his expression made your gut clench. His usual amused arrogance was absent, replaced with something darker. His pupils were slightly blown, the faintest edge of something feral lurking in his gaze. The air around him felt charged, electric. Wrong.
Then a sound.
A wet, strangled cough.
You both turned.
The last assassin—one you had assumed was already dead—was still moving. Barely. He lay twisted on the ground, one arm stretched toward you, his fingers twitching, curled like claws. His chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath rattling, wet, his lungs failing him.
But his lips—coated in blood—were curled into a grotesque smile.
"Even though..." he wheezed, a broken chuckle rattling out from somewhere deep in his ruined throat. "We can't kill you or him..." He spat a thick glob of blood onto the ground, his grin stretching wider, his yellowed teeth bared like a rabid dog. "Both of you...can rot in hell!"
His fingers twitched, curling weakly around something small, something you hadn’t noticed before. Then, in one sharp motion, his fist clenched, and a sudden crack rang out. Glass shattered, the sharp snap almost lost in the cool air, but the moment you heard it, your stomach dropped. A dark, viscous liquid seeped between his fingers, mingling with the blood pooling on the rooftop floor.
Then you caught the scent.
It was faint at first, nearly masked by the coppery stench of death, but the moment it hit the back of your throat, your entire body locked up in realization. The chemical tang was sharp, bitter, something that curled into your lungs like acid. It was distinct. Familiar.
Your body reacted before your brain fully processed the danger.
"No—!"
Your pulse thundered in your skull.
The Frenzy Enhancer.
A biochemical compound designed for one thing: triggering an uncontrollable transformation in Praedators. The LCBI had confiscated hundreds of these vials from underground labs, tearing them away from illegal deals before they could be sold to the highest bidder. But no matter how much of it was taken off the streets, more always surfaced. It was unpredictable. Uncontrollable.
It worked fast—too fast.
You turned, heart pounding in your chest. Sylus had gone rigid, his muscles locking as though every nerve in his body had seized up at once. His breathing was deep, too deep, pulling in the scent like his body was craving it against his will. His head tilted slightly, nostrils flaring, a shudder running through him from head to toe.
A low, guttural growl rumbled from his chest, barely human.
Your blood turned to ice.
His pupils dilated until the irises nearly vanished, red pools swallowing the color in his gaze. His lips parted slightly, sharp, elongated canines catching the dim rooftop lights. He was salivating. A slick sheen of moisture gathered along his lower lip, his body trembling with the effort to hold himself together.
But he was losing the battle.
The Frenzy Enhancer wasn’t just a stimulant—it was a detonator. It bypassed control, restraint, morality. It didn’t just enhance what he was—it unchained it.
And right now, it was unraveling him.
"Sylus," you said carefully, your voice firm but measured. He twitched at the sound of his name, his head snapping toward you with a sharp, unnatural movement. His muscles trembled as if barely keeping himself together, but his gaze was locked onto you now—not as a comrade.
As prey.
You had seen this before as an Enforcer, watched it unfold in others who had been exposed to the drug. The Frenzy Enhancer didn’t just bring out what they were—it unchained them. It severed the link between logic and instinct, driving them into a state of raw, uncontrolled bloodlust. But this wasn’t just any Praedator—it was Sylus. He was already dangerously close to the edge even on a normal day, always teetering between control and destruction. Now, with the drug coursing through his system, you weren't sure how much time you had before he lost himself completely.
You had to move.
Reaching forward, you grabbed his arm, fingers locking tight around his wrist. His skin was hot, too hot. His entire body was trembling with need, his breath shuddering against his clenched teeth. The growl rumbling in his chest vibrated beneath your palm, every muscle in his arm wound taut like a spring waiting to snap.
"Come on," you gritted out, pulling him forward with force. He resisted, his stance firm, as though something inside him was battling whether to follow or attack. Your pulse thrummed in your throat.
Then he staggered.
It was slight, barely a misstep, but you used it. Yanking him forward, you dragged him across the rooftop, forcing his unsteady body toward the stairwell. His breath hitched in a ragged snarl, his movements twitchy, erratic, but he followed.
For now.
Each step was a battle. He stumbled against you, his balance skewed, his instincts fighting him at every turn. By the time you both reached the underground corridors of NightStrix HQ, his breathing had become ragged, his body burning up from the inside out. His restraint was slipping fast.
You shoved open the heavy steel door, dragging him inside. Deep within the base, hidden away from the rest of the world, the reinforced cage ready to hold the beast that was about to be unleashed.
Sylus grunted against you, his breath coming in hot, ragged bursts as you dragged you both into the containment cage. His body was burning up, his muscles twitching violently under your grip, every fiber of him trembling with the overwhelming need to break free. Each second that passed was a countdown to catastrophe. The Frenzy was about to take full hold, and if you didn’t restrain him now, you might not get another chance.
You fumbled with the heavy iron chains, fingers slick with sweat as you worked to loop one around his thrashing limbs. The muzzle. You needed to get the muzzle on first. Your heart pounded as you grabbed it from the steel hooks on the wall, forcing it over his mouth while he snarled, his body lurching violently against you.
"Sylus, stop—!"
He thrashed hard, nearly knocking you to the floor. His strength was unnatural, monstrous, and it was only getting worse. With a final shove, you managed to secure the muzzle around his face, locking the metal straps tightly at the back of his head. But before you could reach for the second chain, he bucked with terrifying force, sending you stumbling backward. You barely had time to clasp the restraint around one of his legs before you were forced to scramble out of the cage.
The second you slammed the heavy door shut, he lunged.
The impact rattled through the metal bars as his shoulder slammed into them, the force sending vibrations into the floor beneath you. You jumped, heart hammering in your ribs, your breath coming too fast. He slid down slightly, panting, his chest rising and falling in heavy, uneven gasps.
Then, without warning, he laughed.
A dark, guttural chuckle, low and mocking, twisted through the air like poison. His pupils were blown slightly wide now, black swallowing the color of his irises as he tilted his head toward you. Even through the muzzle, his teeth gleamed, sharp and lethal.
"Won’t you help me?" he rasped, his voice thick with something twisted—half-growl, half-seduction.
You froze.
He was still partially unrestrained. That single remaining chain wasn’t enough—if the Frenzy fully took hold, he could snap it in seconds. If you waited too long, he would be too far gone.
You had to finish restraining him now.
Swallowing the tight lump in your throat, you slowly stepped forward into the cage. Your pulse roared in your ears, your body screaming at you to run, but you forced your limbs to obey. You kept your eyes on him, watching every twitch of his muscles, every flicker of movement. You knelt, reaching for the second chain, moving with deliberate slowness so you wouldn’t startle him.
"I’m not going to watch you turn into a monster, but I—"
You never got to finish.
Sylus lunged.
A blur of motion—heat, strength, raw power.
You barely had time to react before white-hot pain exploded in your neck.
A strangled scream tore from your throat as his teeth sank into your flesh, piercing deep, his jaws locking down like a predator making its first kill. Agony shot through your nerves, the sharp burn of torn skin flooding your senses. Your vision whited out for a second, pain so intense it nearly stole your breath.
Then instinct took over.
You snarled, swinging your fist up hard, your knuckles cracking against his cheekbone with enough force to send his head snapping sideways. The impact jarred his teeth free, a sharp burst of pain ripping through you as he tore away from your skin. Blood dripped from the wound, warm and wet, seeping between your fingers as you clutched your neck in blind panic.
For a moment, all you could do was breathe through the pain.
The air was thick with the scent of your own blood, sharp and metallic, mixing with the sweat and heat that clung to you both. Your hands trembled as you pulled them away from the wound, your fingers smeared crimson. The realization sent a sickening chill through you.
He had bitten you.
Not just attacked. Bitten.
Your gaze shot back up to him.
Sylus was licking his lips.
He ran his tongue slowly over the blood staining his mouth, eyes fluttering shut for a brief second as though savoring it. Then his pupils snapped back open, razor-sharp hunger gleaming in them.
"You taste delicious." His voice was thick, dripping with need, his words slurred with the edges of something inhuman. His breath came in heavy, fevered bursts, chest rising and falling as his restraint frayed further.
A shudder ran through his body, muscles twitching beneath his skin. His fingers flexed, nails digging into the concrete floor as his entire frame shook with the need to consume more.
"Come...just a little more..." he purred, voice dropping to something low and lethal.
Then he lunged again.
You dodge just in time, barely avoiding the brutal force of his lunge. The heat of his breath scorches the space between you as he snarls, his entire body moving like a coiled beast just barely restrained by human skin. The instant he gets too close, you strike—your fist colliding with his cheekbone in a sharp, jarring impact that sends a jolt of pain radiating up your arm. The force of the hit knocks his head to the side, his body twisting under the sudden blow, but even as he stumbles, something in your gut tells you it isn’t enough.
Your heart pounds wildly, your breath coming in uneven gasps as you prepare yourself for whatever comes next. But Sylus doesn’t fall. He doesn’t even cry out. Instead, he slowly turns back to face you, a sluggish, almost lazy motion, as if he’s savoring the sting of your hit. And then—he smiles.
“Oh…I like when my prey puts up a fight,” he purrs, his voice slithering through the air like something alive. His eyes gleam with raw, unhinged hunger, pupils swallowing what little color remains. The way he tilts his head, the way his lips curl over the metal of his muzzle—it sends a sickening chill down your spine.
The Frenzy has him now. Completely.
You swallow hard, trying to suppress the shudder threatening to wrack your frame. Every inch of your body is screaming at you to run, but you plant your feet firm against the cold concrete, refusing to let fear consume you. If you let him see weakness, if you let him smell it, you’ll lose control of the situation entirely.
"Sylus! Stop it!" you shout, willing your voice to be strong. "Please, I know you're in there somewhere! I just need to—"
He lunges again.
The movement is blindingly fast. One second he's still and the next, he’s twisting, lunging toward you with a violent, predatory force. You barely manage to throw yourself to the side, feeling the rush of displaced air as he snaps at the space where your throat had just been. You seize the opening, grabbing hold of the second restraint with trembling hands and slamming it onto his other wrist. The sharp clank of metal follows as his chains yank him back, keeping him from reaching you—but only barely.
Your pulse slams against your ribs. If you don’t finish this now, he will get free.
His body writhes violently in front of you, hot with fever, drenched in sweat, trembling with animalistic hunger. He’s caught. Fully restrained now, arms suspended in place, unable to do anything but snarl and thrash.
Your arms shake as you stumble backward, breath ragged. You barely register your own hands drifting to your neck, fingers pressing against the torn skin where his teeth had sunk in only moments ago. The wound is deep, hot, raw, but you won’t die from it. Your body is immune to a Praedator’s venom—it’s one of the only reasons you’re even still alive right now. But that doesn’t stop the sick wave of nausea that rolls through you as your fingertips come away stained with more blood.
Sylus laughs.
The sound is low, rough, and dangerously amused.
"You scared?" he murmurs, voice still ragged with the aftershocks of his transformation, his breath coming in heavy, uneven bursts. His eyes flicker over you, roaming your body from head to toe, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing every tiny tremor in your stance.
Your stomach tightens. You don’t answer.
His gaze lingers at your neck, at the place where his teeth had torn you open. His lips part slightly behind the muzzle, and his tongue flicks out, running along the bloodied edge of his mouth as if tasting the remnants of you still clinging to his skin. His chest rises and falls heavily, as if trying to restrain himself, but there’s something else lurking behind his eyes. You watch as his eyes roam up and down your body, seemingly lost in thought. He's thinking about something.
Something dark.
"Your idea of help is heartwarming," he muses as he staggers towards you a bit, his voice softer now, mocking, but no less dangerous.
You force yourself to hold his gaze, even as your breathing refuses to steady. Even as something deep in your gut tells you that Sylus isn’t as trapped as he looks.
Because despite the chains, despite the restraints keeping you apart, he’s still in control.
And he knows it.
"When you approach your prey, you must ensure your own safety first. You taught me this, Sylus."
Your voice is calm, controlled, but the pain radiating from your neck betrays the lie. Each breath you take feels like a blade dragging against raw flesh, a sharp pulse of heat throbbing beneath your skin. You try to ignore it, pushing past the discomfort, pushing past the rising tide of fear that threatens to anchor itself in your chest. There’s no time to waste. You need to find the activator—now. It’s buried somewhere in his body, a trigger designed to override the Frenzy and pull him back from the brink. If you don’t locate it soon, he’ll break free, and there will be no reining him in after that.
Sylus lets out a low scoff, but there’s no real amusement behind it. His breathing is heavy, uneven, his chest rising and falling in quick bursts as though he’s barely holding himself together. Sweat beads at his temple, strands of hair clinging to his skin, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if there’s any part of him left fighting from within, if the Sylus you know is still buried somewhere beneath all that raw, seething hunger.
"Prey?" he murmurs, rolling the word slowly across his tongue like he’s savoring the taste of it. His voice is hoarse, thick with something not quite human, something that sends an instinctual shiver down your spine.
You don’t answer. You can’t. The way he said that definitely indicated that he is not the prey here.
Instead, you move carefully, methodically, circling behind him. His arms are still suspended above his head, iron restraints locking him in place, but you know better than to let yourself feel safe. Chains mean nothing to him. They’re a hindrance at best, a mere delay in what will happen if you fail. Even now, his muscles flex, the sharp ripple of movement beneath his skin a silent warning of what he’s capable of. The heat coming off him is unnatural, feverish, almost suffocating.
You steel yourself, steadying your breath as you press your fingers lightly against his back. Your touch is slow, deliberate, barely there as you search for the small, embedded activator. It should be beneath the skin, nestled somewhere between the shifting planes of muscle. But finding it means keeping your composure, means moving carefully enough that you don’t trigger a reaction.
Your fingers glide along the ridges of his spine, trailing lower, feeling for anything out of place. Every shift of your hand feels like balancing on a razor’s edge. Sylus flinches under your touch, his body tensing hard before he exhales, a low, guttural sound vibrating through his chest. You feel it under your fingertips, the tremor of restraint, of struggle.
A bead of sweat slips down your temple. Nothing. No scar tissue, no ridge of foreign anything beneath the surface that you can find.
“It’s not here…” you murmur under your breath, your stomach twisting as unease settles deep inside you.
Sylus lets out another breath, but this time, there’s something different about it. A chuckle—slow, deliberate, curling like smoke in the thick air between you.
"Do you think I’m putty in your hands?" he asks, his voice low, teasing, laced with something dangerous.
The sound sends a flicker of unease racing up your spine. He’s getting antsy. The patience he had been holding onto—if he had any at all—is unraveling quickly. His muscles are shifting beneath his skin again, his fingers twitching, testing the strength of his restraints. You don’t need to see his face to know he’s smiling.
Your heart stutters. You need to hurry.
Just as you reach toward his ribs, he jerks violently.
A metallic snap rips through the air.
One of the restraints—one of the goddamn chains—breaks free.
Your breath catches in your throat, eyes snapping up just as Sylus rolls his newly freed wrist, fingers flexing as if he’s testing how much control he has left. Slowly, his head tilts toward you, his eyes burning like fire in the dim lighting.
The smile he gives you is chilling.
You don’t think. You react.
With a burst of adrenaline, you tackle him, shoving him hard enough that it sends you both tumbling to the ground. A low, reverberating growl rumbles through him, his chest vibrating beneath your hands as his body tenses against yours.
The struggle between you and Sylus is a mess of tangled limbs and desperation, your bodies locked in a frantic battle against the cold, unforgiving floor. Every shift of his body beneath yours is like wrestling with something barely restrained, a predator on the verge of breaking free from its chains. Heat radiates off his skin, far too intense, far too unnatural, as if his entire body is burning from the inside out. The feverish warmth seeps into your own skin, making it harder to focus, harder to breathe.
Your hands move over his chest, urgent, searching, pressing against the hard muscle beneath you in a frantic attempt to find the activator. It has to be here somewhere—it has to be. Your fingers skim the ridges of his abdomen, feeling for anything out of place, a small foreign lump beneath his skin, a sign that the override switch is still there. But the longer you search, the more panic digs its claws into your ribs.
Your wound throbs, a dull and persistent ache pulsing from your neck, sending sharp spikes of pain through your senses with every movement. The smell of blood—your blood—is thick in the air, mingling with the scent of sweat and something deeper, something primal that radiates from Sylus like a caged animal ready to tear through steel.
"Tell me—" You swallow hard, ignoring the dryness in your throat, trying to suppress the fear that’s creeping into your voice. "Is the activator here?"
Sylus doesn't answer immediately. His breath is coming heavy, uneven, his chest rising and falling in sharp, controlled bursts beneath you. Then, slowly, he grins.
The sight of it sends a ripple of unease down your spine.
"Don’t…" he growls, his voice low and guttural, slipping between clenched teeth. His body tenses beneath you, coiled muscle flexing, veins prominent beneath the sweat-slicked skin of his arms. His hands twitch rhythmically, fingers curling like claws ready to rip you to shreds.
"Don’t press it."
You ignore him.
You have to.
You shift, dragging your hands lower, pressing over his ribs, smoothing your fingers down the hard planes of his stomach, searching for any change in texture, any break in the muscle that could indicate the activator. Your fingertips glide over his skin, past the deep ridges of his abdomen, dipping lower—
A sharp, ragged exhale.
Sylus’s entire body jerks beneath you, his spine arching suddenly, pressing into you before falling back against the ground. His breath stutters, his hands clenching into fists as a sound rumbles deep in his chest—low, guttural, something between a moan and a growl.
Your movements falter for the briefest second.
Did you find it? Did you hurt him?
Your heart pounds violently against your ribs. Your hands remain pressed against him, frozen mid-motion, fingers still splayed across the hard muscle of his lower abdomen. You can feel the way his body shudders, tense and coiled, every fiber of him locked in place, the warmth of his skin searing against your palms.
You don’t know if the reaction is pain or something else, and the uncertainty sends unease coiling in your stomach.
Sylus exhales another uneven breath, his chest vibrating beneath you. His head tilts slightly, red eyes flickering open, dilated again and dark, and he looks straight at you. Not through you, not past you—at you.
The grin he gives you is slow, deliberate.
"That-," he murmurs, voice edged with something dark, something lustful. His lips curl at the corners, his teeth flashing between parted lips as his gaze flickers lower, trailing over the places where your hands are still pressed against him. "That feels...good".
Your breath caught in your throat as the realization hit you like a freight train barreling down the tracks. Your eyes widened as you lowered your head and took in the unmistakable bulge of his erection, straining against the confines of his pants, a tangible proof of the pleasure you were unwittingly providing.
This isn’t pain.
The second he senses your moment of shock, Sylus strikes.
With terrifying ease, he yanks you upward, your feet leaving the ground for a brief, weightless second before he drives you downward. The world tilts violently, your stomach dropping as you’re thrown forward, your body twisting midair before—
Impact.
The breath is knocked from your lungs as you hit the cold, unforgiving floor, your stomach smacking against the hard surface with enough force to send a sharp shockwave through your ribs. Your arms instinctively splay out, palms slamming against the ground to steady yourself, but the weight that follows keeps you from moving.
Sylus presses down against you, his entire body covering yours, his hands locking around your wrists before pinning them flat against the floor beside your head. His hips press firmly into yours, locking you in place, trapping you beneath him.
Panic seizes your chest.
You try to twist away, to jerk free, but his weight is unmovable, pressing down hard enough that every shift only grinds you further against the floor. The heat of his body seeps into your back, feverish and all-consuming, the ridges of his toned chest molding against your spine.
You thrash, breath coming hard and fast, struggling against his grip, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t budge. Doesn’t even react—except for the slow, deep inhale that shudders through his chest.
Then, he breathes against your skin.
"You smell like fear," he murmurs, voice low and silken, curling around your ear like smoke.
Your entire body locks up.
His lips are too close.
The warmth of his breath ghosts along the side of your face, his nose grazing the edge of your jaw before dipping lower, hovering over the sensitive skin of your throat. Your pulse races, hammering so violently beneath your skin that you know he feels it.
His grip tightens.
"And something...sweet," he muses, dragging the words out slowly, tasting them like something decadent.
Your struggles escalate, knowing exactly where this is going.
"Sylus! Stop! No!"
Your fingers claw against the floor, legs kicking, desperate to throw him off, but Sylus doesn’t move an inch. If anything, his hold only grows firmer, heavier, more absolute. The pressure of his body against yours makes it impossible to move, to breathe properly, to think.
Then—he lowers his head.
The brush of his lips against your ear is featherlight, teasing. A sharp contrast to the overwhelming, inescapable strength of his grip.
And then—his teeth sink in.
A sharp, precise nip to the outer shell of your ear, quick and fleeting, followed immediately by the slow, deliberate glide of his tongue. He slides all the way down to your neck, lapping up the still dripping blood from your wound. He alternates between licking and nipping, as if feeding himself and claiming you all at once.
You flinch violently, a shudder ripping through your limbs as heat explodes beneath your skin. Your breath catches, fingers digging into the cold floor as a rush of pure, primal panic flares through your nerves.
Sylus hums. A deep, satisfied sound.
"Something very sweet," he repeats, his voice edged with amusement, hunger, something else entirely. His fingers flex against your wrists, nails pressing into your skin—not enough to break, but enough to remind you of the power imbalance.
"Makes me want to devour you whole."
A violent shiver wracks through you, your entire body locking up in terror.
Move. Move. MOVE.
Desperation surges through you like wildfire. You snap your leg back, aiming a blind, vicious kick toward his leg, his thigh—anything that will make him falter, make him let go—
But he’s faster.
Before you can even make contact, he moves. His weight shifts, his grip flexes, and suddenly—you’re being crushed, pressed even harder into the ground.
Your breath chokes in your throat as his body presses flush against yours, one of his hands releasing your wrist only to grip your hip, pinning you down even harder. His fingers dig in, securing his hold, ensuring you have nowhere to go.
"Nice try," he murmurs, voice dipping into something thick and sultry, rich with amusement. The warmth of his breath trails lower, sweeping along the side of your bloodied throat, down to the nape of your neck.
A slow, wicked grin spreads across his lips, and you feel it—feel his smirk against your skin, feel the way he’s drinking in every panicked breath, every tremor, every racing heartbeat.
"You should know better," he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing growl. "Prey that struggles only makes the hunt more exciting."
His fingers flex against your hip, nails pressing in just enough to send a sharp, prickling sting through your nerves.
"Why resist me now? You made your choice when you stepped inside," Sylus taunts, a dark chuckle rumbling from his chest. Tears prick at your eyes, threatening to spill over as the harsh sound of ripping fabric echoes ominously in the confined space. Your skirt! You cry out, trying to lunge forward, to escape, but his grip is relentless, fingers suddenly tightening around your throat with a firm command.
"Stop. Moving." His growl is a sharp command in your ear, his weight pressing down on you, pinning you to the ground with an unyielding force. The air is forced from your lungs in a rush as he yanks the remnants of your skirt away, tossing it aside carelessly. The room's cool air brushes against the exposed skin of your legs, and you shiver, fear and vulnerability intertwining as you plead with him.
"Sylus...this isn't you. Please—" Your words are abruptly silenced as he tears your underwear away, his actions speaking louder than any words could. The chill against your bare skin draws a sob from your lips, a desperate sound swallowed by the room's oppressive silence.
He's going to take you right here on the cage floor. Claim you. And there's nothing you can do. This isn't Sylus you know anymore.
"My my...this was what you were hiding underneath that skirt?" he growls, a feral edge to his voice. He leans forward, trailing his tongue along your back, the sensation a disconcerting mix of heat and cold that leaves you trembling beneath him.
"Please...snap out of it! Don't do this...!" you scream, your voice raw and desperate as you squirm helplessly beneath him. Your pleas are met with a soft, almost soothing "Shhh..." as if he's trying to calm you, but the sharp sound of his zipper coming undone is a jarring counterpoint, a grim reminder that he's too far gone.
This is it, you think, swallowed by a tide of helplessness. It could be worse...right? A gasp escapes your lips as you feel something large, hot and throbbing press against the middle of your ass. Sylus moans, a deep, primal sound that reverberates through you, sending shockwaves of dread and involuntary ache coursing through your veins. He spits, the wet warmth landing on your skin, slicking the path as he rubs his cock between your cheeks, each movement deliberate and unhurried.
"You looked divine in that uniform when we met again," he murmurs, his voice a silken thread of temptation and threat. "Would it be awful of me to say that I've been wanting to tear you apart with my cock ever since I saw you again?" His words are accompanied by a deep chuckle, a sound that seems to vibrate through your bones.
You squeeze your eyes shut, fighting against the warm, wet sensation that overwhelms your senses. No...this isn't the real him, you remind yourself, clinging to the hope that somewhere beneath the Frenzy Enhancer's influence, the true Sylus still exists. He's still in there, right? The question echoes in your mind, a desperate mantra as you hold onto the sliver of hope that the man you know will resurface, that this nightmare will end.
The moment of hope you had was shattered in an instant as you felt a sharp, piercing pain between your folds as he grips the skin of your ass, a large intrusion attempting to force its way inside you. You screamed, your voice raw with agony, as you tried to pry his hands away, your nails digging into his skin. "It hurts! Stop, please!" you begged, your pleas desperate and frantic.
Sylus grunted and moaned, his body a contradiction of pleasure and annoyance as he struggled to push his cock deeper into your tight folds, his tip breaching your entrance only to retreat, the pain searing and hot. "Hmm..." he growled, his voice a mix of frustration and desire.
You shook, your body trembling from the pain, your lower half throbbing, the intrusion gone but the ache still spreading. Suddenly, your hips were gripped and your lower half was raised up, your ass raised in the air, your hands bracing against the floor, your body now positioned for his taking.
"You just need a little...preparation," Sylus whispered, his voice low and dark, belying the wicked intent behind his words. Before you could protest, his hot tongue was sliding down your cunt, his skilled mouth working to prepare you, his touch both electrifying and unwittingly arousing, a wicked precision that left you trembling, your body betraying your mind's resistance.
"Mghn! S-stop...please, Sylus!" you pleaded, your voice hoarse and desperate, your fingers clawing at the floor as you tried to escape the pleasure-pain he was inflicting. But his death grip on your hips was unyielding, holding you firmly in place, his tongue a relentless force, licking and slurping at your folds with primal hunger. Like a beast that hadn't eaten in weeks.
If he doesn't stop soon you'll definitely-
"Those cute noises you make drive me wild" Sylus growled, his voice a low, guttural sound. You can't see his face, but you can feel his eyes roaming up and down your now soaked cunt, no doubt wishing he was deep inside you right now. "Reminds me of the sound a rabbit makes just before its eaten."
You gasp and shiver at the depraved sentence that leaves his mouth before something wet and long enters your hole, making you cry out. Sylus's tongue, hot and insistent, buried itself deep within you, his mouth working in a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through your core.
Sylus's grunts and moans escalated into a primal chorus as he delved deeper into your folds, his tongue a relentless force, his hands digging into your hips with increasing urgency. Your body was a tempest of sensations—pain, pleasure, and ecstasy—a melting pot of conflicting desires. You tried to hold on, to keep yourself from succumbing, but your body had a mind of its own, and you went limp, surrendering to the pleasure he was delivering.
"Mghn!" you cried out, your body shaking, your hands gripping the floor as you fought against the overwhelming pleasure. "Don't cum... don't cum..." you pleaded, your voice hoarse, your lips bitten to stifle the moans that threatened to escape.
But Sylus found that sweet spot, that spongy part inside you, and twisted his tongue, sending you over the edge. You bit down harder on your lip, trying to muffle the sounds of your climax, but it was no use. The pleasure was too much, and you came undone, your body shaking, your cries echoing in the cold cage as waves of pleasure washed over you.
Sylus lapped up your essence, his tongue working feverishly, his grunts and moans a testament to his own pleasure as he reveled in the taste of your orgasm, his primal satisfaction evident as he continued to lap up your juices like a thirsty dog.
"This taste..." Sylus groaned, his voice thick with greed, as he brushed his tongue against your inner thigh, catching the drippings of your pleasure, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. You gasped for breath, your body still trembling from the orgasm, your mind racing for a way out of this predicament.
"Your scent has filled the room now...its driving me mad. I can't wait any longer".
Your thoughts turned to the activator, the key to your freedom. You needed to get turned around, to find it somehow. "Sylus, w-we should—" you started, but your words were cut off by the sudden, sharp intrusion of his cock slamming into your cunt with a force that sent shockwaves of pain and pleasure through your body.
"Agh!"
The initial penetration was rough, but easier than before, his cock sliding into your wet hole, stretching you, before he pulled back slightly and sheathed himself completely inside you, his grip on your waist tightening as he began to thrust, his hips pistoning in a relentless rhythm.
"Ahh...it hurts..." you whimpered, your body writhing in his grip, trying to escape the pain of his thrusts. But Sylus chuckled, his voice dark and amused. "Keep squirming, little bird. It only makes it feel better."
His words were a taunt as he continued to plunge into you, his cock pistoning in and out, his body a cage of pain, his grip on your waist unyielding, his thrusts relentless, driving you to the brink of ecstasy and agony, your cries and moans filling the cold cage with a symphony of raw, primal sex.
You begin to try and dissociate from everything by focusing on the concrete floor, but Sylus primal grunts and growls as he slams into you, using your body for his own pleasure, makes it hard to escape reality. Think! Just think! You've been in worse situations before, what can you do to get turned around?
A lightbulb goes off inside your head. Its risky, but at this rate...
"F-for a Praedator...I honestly expected this to be much better. A little disappointing after waiting all these years Sylus" you spat, trying to sound more confident than you truly felt. Sylus momentarily slows his thrusting, not completely stopping but definitely enough to ponder your words. You shiver as you hear a deep chuckle.
"Is that so?"
Your entire world flips around as he grabs you, spins you around and pushes you roughly against the concrete floor. Before you can continue speaking, his hand slams into your throat, squeezing slightly. Not enough for serious harm, but its a clear warning.
Sylus's gaze is dark, beastly and terrifying as he leans down to your face, as if trying to look deep into the depths of your soul. Your heart aches as you recall your last encounter with him earlier that day, when he gave you the movie tickets. He had looked so soft...unlike the beast that was in front of you now.
"I can give you rougher, if that's what you crave," Sylus purred, his voice laced with dark humor, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "I quite like you in this position, that look of fear in your eyes turns me on" He began to laugh, a low, menacing sound, as he pushed his still-hard cock back into your aching hole, his hand never leaving your throat.
Sylus's other hand, strong and sure, reached out, tearing your top with effortless ease, the fabric ripping as he exposed your breasts to his hungry gaze. Your nipples hardened in response to the sudden exposure, the cool air on your sensitive skin a stark contrast to the heat of the moment.
Your breasts bounced with each powerful movement of his hips, the motion causing a mix of pain and fear, your body a canvas of sensations, your mind struggling to process the whirlwind of physical reactions.
You whimpered as pain, pleasure, and fear mingled within you. His hand squeezed harder with each thrust, cutting off your air supply, and you clawed at his fingers, desperate for breath, your nails digging into his skin.
"C-can't...breathe..." you gasped, your voice hoarse, your heart hammering in your chest, sensations blurring together. Despite your struggles, your body began to respond to his relentless thrusts, your muscles squeezing around his cock, a reaction you couldn't control.
"Oh, you like this, don't you?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Gonna cum while you can't breathe, little bird? I could've given you this pleasure sooner if I'd known. I'd have gladly delivered your demise, one way or another."
His words sent a shiver through you as your body betrayed your mind's resistance, succumbing to the pleasure he was inflicting, your climax building despite the pain and the fear, a testament to the twisted game he was playing with your body and mind.
Were you truly going to die this way? After everything, after fighting for so long to see him again? This is how things end between the two of you? You look into his eyes. His rabid, feral eyes and feel tears begin to prick them. You look past him, your eyes resting at the revolver still strapped to your leg.
You still have one more option.
"I-it won't be me succumbing to my d-demise" you choke out, staring into his eyes. He doesn't stop thrusting into your body, but his eyebrow does raise. "Even if you make it out of here, what do you think they'll do with you when they realize the only immune person is also pregnant with a Praedator's baby?"
Your eyes widen at his words, your brain barely processing their meaning as your vision begins to blur. No! No! You begin to thrash as the sounds of his evil laughter fills your ears, and his thrusts pick up relentless speed.
"D-don't cum in me! Please!" you choke out, your voice hoarse and gravely as your forced to continue take the relentless pounding of Sylus's cock. He's ignoring you, he doesn't care. He only has one goal now. You feel your lower half begin to ache and pulse, evident that you just orgasmed beneath him. But you barely register it, as your top half begins to hurt.
Your lungs burn as if set ablaze, the oxygen in your body dwindling, your chest seizing with every desperate attempt to inhale. A thick, suffocating haze fills your head, making your thoughts sluggish, disjointed, slipping between the cracks of fading consciousness. Your body betrays you, limbs losing strength, muscles growing weak as an unbearable heaviness creeps into every inch of your skin. Your fingers, once clawing at the iron grip around your throat, are failing you now, slipping away, no longer able to fight against the pressure stealing your air.
A dull ringing overtakes your ears, growing louder, drowning out the world around you. Your vision narrows, dark spots creeping into the edges, threatening to swallow everything whole. A strange lightheadedness overtakes you, a weightless, dizzying sensation that makes it hard to remember where you are, what you’re doing. Your body is shutting down, giving up, preparing to surrender to the void clawing at the edges of your mind.
No. No, no, no. It can’t end like this.
A spike of panic jolts through your fading awareness, but your body refuses to listen, sinking deeper into helplessness. You strain, forcing your head up just enough to look at him, to plead, to beg, but the words won’t come. Your throat is locked, crushed beneath his grip, and no matter how much you try, no sound escapes past your lips. Sylus barely seems aware of you now, his expression dazed, half-lidded, his breath uneven as he lingers on the edge of his own orgasm. His fingers twitch slightly, tightening then loosening, but he isn’t paying attention, isn’t thinking, isn't entirely here. He’s too close to the edge, too lost in wanting to finish inside you.
That’s when you see it.
A flicker of red, faint but undeniable, flashes in one of his eyes. It’s barely noticeable, a fleeting pulse of color in the red of his irises, but it’s there. Your slowing mind struggles to process it, to make sense of what it means, until the realization slams into you like a shock of ice water.
The activator?!
Adrenaline floods your veins, shoving back the creeping darkness threatening to pull you under. The sheer, primal will to live surges through you like a lightning strike, reigniting every dying nerve, forcing your limbs to respond even as they scream in protest. With the last of your strength, you move.
Your fingers twitch, barely managing to form a fist. Gritting your teeth, you summon every ounce of energy left in your failing body, pull your arm back, and slam your thumb directly into his eye.
A guttural, animalistic roar rips from Sylus’s throat as his grip on your neck vanishes, his entire body jerking back in raw, instinctive pain. The instant pressure is released, air floods your lungs, rushing in so fast that your entire chest seizes from the force of it. A sharp, shrill gasp tears from your throat as you suck in a desperate, wheezing breath, the burning relief almost as unbearable as the suffocation had been.
Your vision, once clouded and swimming, sharpens in an instant, the murky haze lifting as the world snaps back into terrifying clarity. Every nerve is raw, every muscle trembling, but you’re alive. You can breathe.
Sylus's eyes widened for a moment, a brief flicker of surprise as all the Frenzy enhancer seemed to leave his body, and then, just as quickly, the feral intensity left his gaze, his face softening. But it was too late for his body to catch up, as his hips froze mid-thrust, his cock twitching inside you, releasing a hot flood of cum against your womb.
You gasped, your body trembling from the unexpected climax, the sensation of his release filling you, an intense mixture of warmth and fullness.
Sylus’s eyes met yours, the fire in them flickering unsteadily as the weight of what just happened crashed over him. The frenzied hunger that had gripped him moments ago had drained away, leaving behind something raw—horror, confusion, and something close to regret. His breath came fast and uneven, chest rising and falling as he struggled to process what he had just done to you.
His lips parted slightly, but no words came at first. His red eyes, now normal, darted across your face, lingering on the deep red imprints, blood, and bruises his fingers and teeth had left on your throat. His grip, once unrelenting, had been torn away, but you still felt it there—the phantom sensation of his hands crushing the air from your lungs.
“Are you…” He swallowed hard, voice hoarse, like it physically pained him to speak. “Are you okay?”
You coughed, your throat burning, the rush of oxygen still too sharp, too overwhelming. But you managed to nod, your limbs still weak, your entire body trembling from the shock. You could feel the marks he had left, the lingering ache that pulsed in time with your heartbeat, but you were alive.
Sylus was still staring at you, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes now—guilt, realization, something heavy and unspoken pressing down on him. His hands twitched at his sides, fingers curling like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he should.
“Why didn’t you press it sooner?” His voice was quieter now, filled with something vulnerable, almost desperate. “The activator… you could have stopped me before—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head, frustration with himself evident in the tightness of his jaw. “Before I did this to you.”
The look on his face—haunted, shaken—was so unlike him, so different from the Sylus you knew, that something in your chest ached. He wasn’t just horrified by what had happened. He was horrified by himself.
You forced a small, reassuring smile, even though your throat still ached, even though your entire body was still reeling from the ordeal. “Because I couldn't find it. But I knew you were still in there,” you whispered, voice raspy but steady. “And I was right.”
Sylus let out a slow, uneven breath, his gaze locked on you like he was trying to convince himself you were telling the truth. Then, without another word, he moved.
Before you could react, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, the warmth of his body pressing against yours in a way that was nothing like before. This wasn’t dominance or power. This was desperation. He was still inside you, but neither of you cared to address it at this moment.
His grip was strong, but careful this time. His hands, which had moments ago been your greatest threat, now held you like you were something fragile, something breakable. His fingers curled against the back of your head, as if grounding himself, as if he needed to feel that you were real, that you were still here.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured against your hair, voice rough, low, and laced with something unspoken. “I wasn’t…I couldn’t—” He exhaled, tightening his hold. “I didn’t want our first time to be like this.”
You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sink into the embrace. Tears of relief slipped from the corners of your eyes and dripped to the concrete floor. Your hands gripped the leather of his top, grounding yourself in him, in the fact that he was back now. His heartbeat, still fast, thrummed against your own, and for a moment, neither of you moved, neither of you spoke. The silence was thick, but not empty.
“It’s okay,” you whispered finally, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “You’re back now.”
And then you kissed him.
It was slow at first, hesitant, but the second your lips met his, Sylus shattered.
His grip on you tightened even more, arms pulling you flush against him as he kissed you back like he had been waiting for this, like it was the only thing tethering him to reality. There was nothing controlled about it—it was desperate, messy, full of every unspoken thing he couldn’t bring himself to say over the years. His fingers slid up your back, then tangled into your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, to claim more of you, to drown in you.
You could feel his pulse beneath your fingertips, still racing, still alive. You weren’t sure who was shaking more—you or him—but neither of you pulled away. Neither of you wanted to.
When you finally parted, both of you were breathless, your foreheads still pressed together. His lips hovered just over yours, his hands still holding you like he couldn’t bring himself to let go yet.
It was all going to be okay.
For the first time since this nightmare had begun, Sylus let himself believe it.
Oh and I WILL be going back to my degenerate roots and cooking up a noncon/dubcon fic for this banner. Stuck in a cage with a feral Sylus due to failed safety protocols? Hello??? HOW COULD I PASS THIS UP 😩
I just finished the card and YALL LET ME TELL YOUUUU. The grunting? Growling? Manhandling??? Sniffing???? GAHSHSYSBSH THIS IS EVERYTHING I WANTED AND MOREEE.
The noncon fic I’m cooking up with this is about to be devious and downright nasty. I’ve started already!! Be on the lookout 👀🤭
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AHHH I HIT 2000+ FOLLOWERS LAST NIGHT!!! This is actually unreal and never would I have imagined that 2009 of you would like my stories and regularly read them!! My journey as a dark content writer has been a very scary at times and I wasn’t even sure if the LADS community would be welcoming of such concepts, but I was WRONG 🥹🤍
So from the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading HWE and my other stories, leaving comments and asks, and just being here in general!! It’s thanks to your endless encouragement and willingness to ramble with me that I keep writing in the first place!! Mwah! Love you all 🤍
-Umi 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
Side note on those wondering about chapter 18 of HWE. My new pc is currently in the process of being shipped so I’m waiting until then to finish writing it (should be next week when it arrives). It’ll just be so much easier writing 30k+ words on a pc that doesn’t overheat during long writing sessions LOL. But the Sylus fic for the new banner will still come shortly after the banner release since it’ll be much quicker to type up :)