#he's so nimble. and agile

[yesloulou]

apocalypse soldier au btw!!!

[whathasangramainyudonewrong]

Wrong #687

Actually cleared the Sinking Ships challenge in Erice’s park, only to return to spirit form immediately after, meaning his picture couldn’t go up on the leaderboard

[rotinthedark]

tbh, Seb wouldn't even hate dancing itself. He's just never experienced it somewhere that isn't horrendously embarrassing nor with the right person.

[janumun]

Painted Red (LaDS Sylus - NSFW ABCs Headcanon]

Rated: NSFW/18+

Words: ~4k

Tags: oral, vaginal and anal sex, usage of toys, fingering, enemies to lovers dynamic/passing usage of guns, bondage, semi-public sex, improper use of Evol, switching power roles, dirty talk, masturbation, mirrors, orgasm denial, praise kink

Author’s Notes: A little treat to myself right before Sylus’ release. Please take careful note of those tags and content warnings before you proceed.

I hope you enjoy your read as much I enjoyed myself writing this!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)   

With the state of indecent disarray one usually ends up in —  quivering, drenched thighs, nerveless arms useless by your sides, a flushed face and an inability to catch your breath — after a single night spent in Sylus’ bed, aftercare is a necessity post-coitus. And fortunately, the man, damn him, knows and understands so, very well.  

And so, he has a pitcher of cold water, prepared well beforehand — even on days your dalliances are not what the two of you intend when you meet — ready and at your disposal by the bedside.  

The moment he pulls out of you, another short one spared to ensure you are still there, with him and well, he’s moving off of you. A clean robe he throws on, loose, over his body before striding over to the nightstand to pour you a glass.  

A cool, pleasant palm he eases against the back of your head to raise, as he encourages you take those big, long gulps of fluid to quench your thirst and replenish your energies. “There you go, well done,” his low baritone settling deep within your belly, your core instinctively clenching in on emptiness to hear his unexpected praise for something so very mundane.  

Truly, you do not know what this man is doing to your body and mind.  

Extra 

Sylus slides into bed with you for the remainder of your night and tucks close under the covers, for your much needed repose.  

Morning afters, you greet with a fresh shower (and on days you insist, with him), a pair of clean towels and a pressed outfit, ready for you to change into and later settle in for a healthy, fulfilling breakfast, whipped up to perfection by his personal chef. All of his house-staff, professional, discrete and well-versed in handling affairs of the Onychinus scion’s household. Whatever the two of you share within the confines of your privacy — animosities or amourous rendezvous —  remains entombed, within that very space.  

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)   

Sylus takes pride within his dexterity, particularly that of his limbs (...particularly that of his hands, his fingers when it comes to matters of the bedroom).  

One would hardly expect a man of his body stature to possess the nimble flexibility that resides compacted within his body. An erroneous judgment that often proves fatal to foolish foes within a fight.  

And with you, he puts that lethal agility to use: within the push of thick digits up into your clenching walls, the roughened pads of them swiftly seeking and pressing up against the spot at your frontal walls that makes you wail, makes you twist. Makes that body of yours gush against his insistent palm in an orgasm vehement enough, you see dark blanket across your eyes for the scarcity of mere seconds. Truly bringing upon you, as they call it, la petite mort. A tiny death.  

Sylus is extremely fond of your face. It’s not because of the way you look, a mere pretty face in the crowd he would simply gloss over; it’s the striking catch of your facial tells that steal his gaze and keep it captive.  

The wary intensity of your eyes the first time you laid eyes on him. 

Or the way your brow knit in firm concentration when you had him tossed to the ground, once. Nearly taking him by something almost akin to surprise, the weight of your gun, incessant, against his chest. Your mouth turning sour in restless irritation when he dared try tease at your sensibilities, a harsh knee you plunged deeper into his torso.  

The quick work of your mind — a testament of its well-endowed intellect and wit, a Hunter of good repute —  channeling brilliance in crisp words uttered from rouged lips, when the two of you, on one certain occasion, found yourselves in a particularly dire situation. One you’d agreed to accompany him to, undercover, as an associate of the Onychinus’ head.   

Truly, he has been snared with your fascinating mien since the day he laid his eyes upon you, your expressions spinning — amusing — as if placed upon a carousel, the longer he spends in your company.  

And from there on, is born a desire to witness even more.  

When you drive him back into the covers with the force of your wet kiss, parting untimely before he has the proper chance to put his tongue into your mouth and taste for himself (there will be further opportunities, he holds himself). 

The way that well-coveted, devious tongue sweeps a slow path against your upper lip —just out of reach — edge to edge. The harsh dash of red, high across your cheeks, the intensity of your breaths, untamed as his. And those beautiful eyes, a riotous mix of vexation and desire so incinerating, it turns Sylus’s cock to unbearably hard stone beneath the cleft of your ass, he bucks up against you just to see that wheeling carousel within your gaze, shift forms for him, watch that mouth swear at the exhilarating stimulation of your combined symphony, he knows, you too feel. Just for him alone.  

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)  

Sylus enjoys the slick feeling of your skin stained by his cum; that exact moment he pulls out of your quivering walls to release himself in thick spurts down the length of your folds. Slips the head of his cock against the smears of his release, before pushing back, slow, once more into your depths.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)  

There is no secrecy or shame involved with a man in possession of as poised a self-assurance as Sylus; his sexual tendencies he not only owns up to and understands but has no qualms about elucidating his wants in great... obscene detail, to his partner, you.  

He wants you to be knowing exactly what it is you are doing to arouse him and exactly how to get him up to that stage.  

His palms curving about your thighs, scaffoldings of heated flesh that climb up and slink slow beneath the cut of your dress. Covetous fingers that trace delicate patterns against the lining of your panties and yet you quiver underneath that feather touch alone. “Such fine lace.” Garnet gaze, sharp, as it meets yours within the tight, much too confined space of his car. 

The chauffeur in front, separated a mere layer away from the two of you as Sylus wrenches you onto his spread lap, the firm muscle of his thighs unyielding beneath as they shift, subtle, to press you deeper against a broad chest.  

Index and middle scouring a hot, glancing path against your clothed slit before withdrawing, leaving you to scramble for purchase against the fine pressed collar of his shirt, creasing it within your hold.  

Your question snipped short with the soft, soughing whisper at your ear, voicing his true intentions. “I’d very much like a memento, to remember our evening by. Your panties...” Devious fingers pinching at the apex of your heat. “They will do well, sweetheart.” 

A moan tumbles past your lips before you can smother the sound —   you break it against the sweep of his mouth, welcoming —  at such a scandalous request, bold, without a lick of remorse. Just as the man himself.  

“I trust you will help me then, yes?” A long, tapered finger, pressing above underwear, right at your slit. Course thumb leisurely stroking its fire against that tight bead of pleasure. A rumbled groan he breaks free against your ear to feel the wanton slick of your arousal, soaking right through fabric. “That’s right, drench them well. I want your fragrance long on my gift, even after your departure.”  

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)  

Sylus has been out and about. He isn’t capricious enough to have changed sexual partners as frequently as the rumors around Zone N109 might paint him to have, but he is certainly no stranger to sex.  

His preference before you, usually having been for casual, short-lived, discrete dalliances, to indulge in bodily pleasures and no more beyond. With a man as committed to his goals as Sylus is, with a clear concept of how he wishes to manipulate the underworld to his liking, he does not spare much attention to subsidiary gratifications. 

With people at large, he is apathetic to that which does not catch his interest. There is very few within this world that truly does.  

And you, now, stand among those rare few treasures that have all of his attentions arrested. 

He finds himself wanting to captivate you, in turn, not just in body but mind. Truly, he finds you a fascinating being.  

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)  

Seated within his lap, cock nestled warm within clenching depths. 

Hair, a spread of wild locks across the coverlet, mirroring the writhing state of your sweat-drenched body underneath his, as he thrusts into you. 

Hungering fingers clawing at the expanse of his chest, down the strength of his shoulders as you furiously grind upon his cock, intoxicatedly chasing an orgasm just within reach. Strong fingers, he rushes down the length of your clenching abdomen, inquisitive palm digging just beneath your naval to feel for the vibrations that ripple across pliant skin with the vehemence of your thrusts onto his cock.  

Sylus relishes the privilege of your private, salacious unravelings, brought upon by him alone, by what he does to you and what you force out of him, for your singular pleasure. Desires heightened to witness you using his body to bring yourself to shattering ruin, it floods his veins with inebriating arousal so heavy, his body aches with the force of his want. 

As such any which way he takes or lets you take, which allows him privy to your raw, unfettered emotions rushing across your face [See above: B, Body Part] is what he enjoys most. Bringing him to completion the fastest when he is able to witness your mouth breaking apart in moans, watch sex mussed strands of hair stick to your temples, mixing in with the sweat of your body, tear-streaked pleasure smeared vivid across your cheeks. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)  

Your sexual escapades are hot, often times competitive and cathartic; an unfettering of strangled desires. Bursting to the surface within the fever of your intimacy. Arduous cravings that are hardly scotched in a singular session. 

Vocal and perverse though he may be in tongue when it comes to your love-making, Sylus is not one for poetic romanticisms waxed within the bedroom. A man of action rather than ornate words. 

His regard for you exhibited in the grip of sturdy arms that clutch you back against his body, feeling for each part of you pressed against his. In the tongue that laves at sweat soaked skin in soothing mercy, from the relentless assault of his hips against your ass.  

Roughened thumbs that swab at tears from red-rimmed eyes, post-coitus, a gentle towel that skates soft down the quivering length of your ruined body before tucking it clean into fresh robes.  

The manner in which he chooses to stay close and warm your bed, instead of leaving right after, even after the fire within your veins has long cooled itself. Foregoing his own personal mandate, to never spare a single trace of himself behind.  

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)  

Sylus takes exceptional care to maintain good hygiene at all times; a man who looks and smells just as good, the pleasant, sharp undertones to his cologne, having you canting your nose into the space of his neck, as you breathe. 

 Right at that tendon wrung taut with the press of your teeth into a harsh bite, to choke the scream that climbs up your throat with the hard propulsions of his cock into your depths.  

Downstairs, he is fairly clean; a shave on the regular, a mere fine dusting of ivory tracing a path from navel, downwards until it disappears beneath the stretch of his pants.  

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)  

[Also see above: G] Choosing to bury his skewed smiles against your wet moans, the bite of restive teeth you sink into his lip, pulling it wider.  The anchor he throws forwards for both your sakes in the entwining of digits, meshing tight against the other to ride out your highs.  

Sinking a bite in farewell right above your left breast before you part, so he knows how that heart bears its frenzied beats for him alone. A reminder he leaves upon your body to ache by, until the next time he finds himself buried within you.  

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)  

Sylus lies in possession of an exceedingly high sexual drive. And herculean, in-humane self-control to boot. Experienced though he may be, due to the course of his sexual history; he’s been able to keep his casual encounters to a minimum due to how well he is able to compartmentalize his needs.  

Overwhelming desires at times, he often spilled within the confines of an oiled fist. At others, tamping down the more primal parts of himself, until he felt it turn a necessity.  

After you, he allows himself release from that tight-fisted restraint more often. Finishing himself in white relief, trickling down his fingers on the days (...hours) he does not have your warm body to sheath into, does not have the symphony of your cries to help him along.  

Your visage in mind, sharp, jagged; he’s already expecting your next meeting with bated pleasure. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)  

Sylus loves the color red on you, appreciates fiercely how becoming it is on you.

Loves to buy you dresses — scarlet as his eyes, as his desires —  to put on, when you let him. Personally ensures, first-hand, they are well-fitted, within the confines of a cosy dressing room. 

When large hands reach to flit past the split of your dress, cup about your ass, fingers drifting about your waist. “A perfect fit.”He praises, to your reflection within the body-length mirror. Skating further up your body to finger the strap of the outfit, skirting it, slow, down your shoulder. Indolent digits, index and thumb, pinching at the hardened peaks of a breast. Curving a hefty palm about the clothed flesh. “You’re a sight to behold.” 

Red, when he curls a palm in between the cleft of your legs, leaves your flesh smarting with the short, pinching grinds against an increasingly swollen clit, stimulated for hours on end. Ruby, to match the flush at your cheeks. Scarlet, down the crescent of your breasts.  

Wine, when you make his color spill with the bite of harsh teeth into his lip, bursting blood in between your mouths, as you withdraw on panting breaths.  Tipping down in willing obeisance — he gifts just to you— with the violent tug of your fingers, directing him back against your mouth. Lapping at his wound, marking him for your own.  

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)  

Anytime, any place, any where.  

There isn’t an authority powerful enough on Earth to stay his hand, once the two of you decide you want your bodies against each other. Sylus does not shy from an opportunity presented, and if there is none, he makes one.  

In seclusion, or in public— 

Crowds melting away the moment his fingers whip about your waist, stealing you away into private silence. The weight of his Evol has barely scattered from your shoulders, before the strength of his body replaces it, driving you back against a carved pillar. Mouth pulsing against yours in a slow, heavy kiss. Wet, hot; parting from your tongue on a conjoined string of damp pleasure, that bows and breaks under the weight of gravity.  

There isn’t a moment he does not desire you and he certainly has no specious sensibilities to appeal to, when it comes to the chance to indulge you.  

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)  

Curses, nothing quite turns Sylus on than to see you flourish in the place you shine best. When you are dedicated and singular-minded, in pursuit of your target. When you are forced to contend against situations far out of your control, compelled to navigate the perilous dangers that come with your line of work, be it the Tenebrae, Wanderers or something else entirely. And rise above it all, through the sheer drive you possess, a stubborn nature unable to give up on what you believe in. Not unlike his own, a kinship he finds within you.  

A desire to obtain that fire for his own. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)  

There is little Sylus would ever deny you. Certainly, keep from you, briefly; demands he may not fulfill immediately, in the pursuit of your combined pleasures. 

Sharing you with another, however, is a stringent boundary. 

Despite that first impression he settles, of immovable composure, he’s territorial, rather like a murder of crows, over you. Your heart, your sole focus, he desires to monopolize for his own. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)  

Having your mouth on his cock is stimulating. Having your positions swapped and your ass grinding hard against the strength of his jaw, however, is what truly incinerates the blood within his veins. The leverage it bestows within his hold, to have you. Manipulate your pleasure to his liking, set the blood thrumming high within your own body.

Sturdy arms that cord about the plush of quivering thighs, garnet gaze that rolls up to capture yours, accompanying the wicked bite of teeth into the pliant flesh of your thigh. The flat of his tongue running from base to hood, ensuring not a single drop is wasted.  

Relishing his victory in the slow sweep of lids falling shut, the open grin that pulls taut, with the harsh, fluttering pull of your fingers at his hair, shoving him deeper into your pussy. Signaling your utter defeat. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)  

Sylus is in it for the long game. And no matter what it takes, no matter the cost, he sees to it that he gets what he wants.  

Oh, him fracturing from that torturous tug-and-pull you’ve got going on, is but a feverish wish on your part. Sylus lives for the pleasure of your ruination, delights in the number of times he can crest you to your climax. And when not. 

Part desire, part the necessity to have you well and utterly drenched before he even thinks to breach that soft, quivering flesh. Extended periods of torturous teasing foreplay, obligatory if he is to have penetrative sex with you. His size, he understands, not an easy burden to accommodate.  

He often starts out slow; long, deep thrusts into your body as it clenches and moulds against the shape of him. Stimulated eventually enough, you drip copious against him, pleasure over-riding any remaining scraps of  fleeting discomfort entirely until you’re clawing at the sturdy strength of his back. 

Fingernails pulsing at the firm flesh of his ass, his name tumbling incoherent from a parched mouth, until he’s driving into you with the vehemence of an untethered beast. Guttural groans and whispered sighs, splintering against the give of your neck in tandem to your mounting screams. Quenched against the bite of a breast.  

Letting your desires burn in between you until the moment they’re blanketed, hours later, into the dark of night.  

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)  

Sylus does not wait. When he witnesses desire pool within that provoked gaze, watches the fire that burns parched, as you seek for moisture with the slow slide of a pink tongue against your rouged lip.  

Helping you along into a dark crevice, if you’re out in public. Drawing your panties down against your thighs to reach for the place in between your legs. Roughened fingers plucking at wetness, dragging an indolent path from your slit to the apex of your sex. Curving one long, tapered digit into your clenching walls, stroking, until he brings you crashing for him.  

Proud mouth pulsing a kiss in hushed laughter against your temple, as he assists you in putting yourself back in spruced order.  

Sylus never goes the entire way, when the two of you are rushing against the clock. Ample time, he requires — and makes certain he’d have that, later — to unwrap and uncover the entirety of you, piece by piece.  

An early aperitif, however, is one he isn’t opposed to, especially when it is served, as intoxicating as you are. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)  

He’s willing and he’s game; a word from you is all he requires before granting you exactly what you desire, in spades.  

There isn’t a thing you could throw his way to turn him off you, Sylus is the kind of man to take it all in stride.  

[See also: L, N and K] 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)  

Oh, he possesses a generous, infuriating amount of discipline; immovable rock in the face of obvious temptation. That does not, however, imply there isn’t a savage beast caged, restless, underneath that cool, tempered demeanor. Sylus merely maintains inhumane control over the leash of that sexuality beneath. And he knows how well to untether it too, once he allows himself to let loose his inhibitions.  

Infinite stores of stamina (for daaays), an extremely brief refractory period and an overwhelming desire to wring you dry, entirely for himself, make for a terrifying combination.  

Your hips would long break before Sylus’ cock ever begun to lose its vigor.  

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)  

Sylus knows an opportunity when he sees one and the chance to have you utterly devastated, is one he never lets up on, and toys are just a welcome addition to his arsenal.  

Pretty little baubles, the two of you purchased together on one of your dates — a discrete, neat store tucked within one of N109’s infamous districts, the way he’d encouraged your fascinated survey of the store’s à la mode selection of vibrators and jeweled plugs, a vaguely amused smile plucking at his mouth. Pulling up every single toy that sparked your fancy for a detailed overview from the ever-present staff, more than happy to answer all your enthused questions.  

Rounding a firm hand about your waist to tug to his side, at the end of your purchase trip, breathing a sensual promise into the cleft of your ear, to let you try them all out in due time. 

And he fulfills it, in equal enthusiasm. 

Deft fingers that press up to slide against the insistent vibrations of the object settled snug into your wet walls. Toying, indolent, at the intensity of its stimulation with sporadic flicks of his Evol. Your stuttered moans clawing higher the longer he keeps you suspended within this torturous state of denial. Rejecting your babbles to let you come, that he’s been at it for hours.  

“Not yet,” he instructs, slipping a cool hand onto the shell of your hip to hold down your senseless bucking.  

It is only several, excruciating denied orgasms later does he tug free the plug at your ass, pressing his cock in lieu of its emptiness. And the way your hole clamps down in a vice at the base of him drags a shuddered, guttural groan from him. Your body stimulated so beyond sense, it drags an exhilarated laugh from his chest, in conjunction to your lost moans. 

“This is it, lovely. Are you enjoying yourself that much?” Mouth pulling wider at your vehement nods. “Do you desire more?” Sinking three fingers up to the knuckle into your pussy, without warning. A quick tug of them upwards, has his energy tinkering at the vibrator’s intensity, sending it buzzing higher and you wail your curses at him. “Hah.” He shudders above, pressing deeper against your back. “That’s it, I like those sounds.” 

“Sing higher, darling.” 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)  

Oh, his craving for riling you up and goading you is infinite. 

Even when you have him physically bound and at your mercy; the gorgeous, insouciant pull of that mouth into a skewed smile —  a crafted calculation — has you feeling as if he still holds the entirety of a winning deck within those trussed hands.  

Through each singular groan, every heaving breath and grunt, a disquieting, infuriating grin tugs constant at lips that demand further of your cruelty. As if a perverse beast actually enjoying the cage it belongs in.  

The ram of a harsh heel, deep into his abdomen, has his grunting a long, gravely sound, Sylus’ body driving further into the savage crush of your shoe — pleasure so intoxicating in the knot of strong brows, that parted mouth —  it stirs fiery arousal deep within your own belly.  

Traitorous wetness trailing down the length of your thighs, arousal that Sylus convulses against the binds of his shackles for. Manages to dip forwards just enough —  the brute —  to catch the trickle of wetness against an adept tongue, at your thigh, and lap. Garnet gaze seeking and capturing yours in a haze so vicious your fingers fist harsh into his hair, in an unforgiving pull. Your moans, he steals — victorious — for himself.  

“That is surely not all you can manage to do with me, can you, darling?” 

 And you can’t be too dishonest with yourself any longer; your orgasms far more fervid and ruinous when he’s had you both dancing along to his little cat-and-mouse game for hours on end, teasing you both with the pantomime of the act. Until, finally, finally, his cock plunges past aching, swollen folds and into your drenched, clenching walls.  

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)  

Sylus’ moans are low, licentious burrs; throaty whispers he secretes right against your ear, to turn your legs to quivering flesh. He doesn’t require his voice to rise above a certain octave, not when he has you gushing on his face with the vibrations that buffet deep into your pussy, when that pleasured rumble of his breaks right in between your legs. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)  

Sylus does not care much for binding or detaining you — restraining your senses — for personal pleasure.  

He allows you use of your precious fetters and restraints, for what it does for him — an opportunity to maneuver your pleasure — and for the two of you, that is... if you can manage to bring him under, to begin with.  

It merely isn’t something that works for him, in roles reversed, when he finds himself sufficient enough to draw forth the pleasure he can achieve for the two of you, with his body alone. 

He has innumerable ways within his arsenal he can bring you to mind-numbing finish with, and he doesn’t require the comfort of a rope for that.  

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)  

Sylus’ cock is a beautiful, symmetrical thing — rather intimidating at first glance. He teaches your body to take it well, in long, pleasurable lessons. Curving, slight. towards his abdomen. A thick shaft running up into a flared glans that burns in pleasurable penetration the first time you take him in. Numerous, undulating veins along the length, that bump perfect against the surface of your tongue when you swirl around it. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)  

[Incredibly high as detailed at great length in J and S] 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

Sleep is the farthest thing from mind when the Onychinus’ head has you tucked at last, exhausted, within his bed. His body — long programmed — hardly permitting the scope of vulnerability slumber brings, in your presence.  

And so, he puts that time to other pursuits. Often nights, choosing to watch over your sleep, carding the occasional stray strand of hair back against your ear. At others, he brings work to bed, spectacled scarlet gaze scouring over lines of text and diagrammatic compilations.  

Not choosing to desert your side, even once, throughout the entire night, protective over your own vulnerability, for as long as it lasts. 

End Notes: Once my fingers actually started on this man, I could not stop even if I wanted to. Sylus has me gripped by my very throat and that worries me greatly LOL.

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[beloveds-embrace]

rugby player Simon and his pretty little balerina partner. Thats it. Thats whats currently plaquing my mind

Now that you’ve said it I’m thinking about them too because YES 😩 i tried a more headcanony style for this, really had no idea what to write as a drabble

• You first met Simon “Ghost” Riley during an injury rehab session. He’s there nursing a rough tackle, while you’re recovering from an overworked ankle. Despite his intimidating size and silence, he notices how gracefully you move even while stretching, and you can’t help but admire his sheer size even if he’s making the nurses nervous.

• Ghost is, honest to god, shy about approaching you at first; why would delicate, lovely you want someone of his type and build to approach you? But he still gets roped into conversation when you tease him for struggling with a basic stretching exercise. “I’m built for smashing into blokes, not folding like you do.” he grumbles, but he doesn’t sound truly bothered. You are sure you can even hear the amusement. And this is how you end up exchanging number and texting, until he finally asky you out on a proper date.

• He’s genuinely amazed at your discipline and talent, often catching himself zoning out while watching you rehearse. You tease him for staring, but he’s truky awestruck by how effortlessly you glide across the floor, almost looking weightless.

• You love watching him play rugby. Seeing him control the field with raw strength and precision is hot. You start attending his matches, cheering louder than anyone else when he tackles an opponent or scores. His favorite cheerleader- his best girl <3

• Ghost introduces you to his gym routines, and you try (unsuccessfully) to keep up with his weightlifting. You love the view of his muscles flexing, though, and you don’t try to hide it. You also love sitting on his back while he does pushups, giving him a kiss ever so often in encouragement.

• In return, you teach him some basic ballet moves to improve his agility to help him. The image of this massive, intimidating man attempting pliés is hilarious, but he’s surprisingly nimble. “Don’t tell the lads, yeah, doll?” he huffs, though his amusement is clear and it has you giggling.

• Simon loves how tiny you feel when he wraps his arms around you. After games, he picks you up effortlessly, spinning you around as you laugh and lean down to kiss him much to the whistles and hoots of his teammates. Neither of you care anyways.

• After a game, he’s all adrenaline and intensity, body taut. You tease him by saying, “Don’t you dare bring that sweaty self near me, Simon Riley.” but he pulls you into a heated kiss anyway, pinning you gently against a wall in the hallways of the stadium.

• He loves when you practice in front of him wearing your ballet leotard. The combination of your grace and your form-fitting outfit gets his heart and more racing, though he keeps his composure… mostly.

• Simon is also your biggest cheerleader during your performances, sitting in the front row with a bouquet of flowers that looks comically small in his massive hands. He always looks proud, even if he doesn’t say much. And he absolutely glares or shushes anyone who is causing a ruckus and taking the spotlight off you.

• He joins you most of the time in the backstages, and when you’re feeling nervous before a performance, he cups your face in his big, warm hands and whispers, “You’re the most talented person in the room. Show ‘em who you are.”

• You return the favor by helping him relax before games. You massage his shoulders and give him little pep talks, which he pretends not to need but secretly loves. Sometimes of them are even recorded on his phone for the very rare occasions you can’t make it to his games.

• Said it before but I’ll say it again: you love how his body feels next to yours- rugby has made him all broad shoulders and powerful muscles, and he loves how delicate your hands feel running over his skin. Likewise, he loves caressing your skin and rubbing creams and ointments to your aching feet muscles.

• He calls you “Twinkle Toes” which sounds sarcastic at first but is said with so much affection that it melts your heart.

• You call him “Big Softie” because, despite his tough exterior, he’s the sweetest with you. He pretends to hate it, but he secretly loves when you use it in private. Had a stupid smile on his face when saw it was how you had your contact for him saved.

[lordprettyflackotara]

till dawn || eyeless jack || part three

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. TW: LOTS OF PLOT, being chased teehee scary, unrealistic demon sex bc be so honest w yourself that’s why you’re here, breeding kink, bondage/choking kink. there will be one more part, a finale to this lil series :’) i think for my next series for the creeps im gonna go with either jeff or masky, haven’t decided yet. ANYWAYS, enjoy!!

the finale to till dawn is here

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, threatening to burst through your rib cage.

The sound of crunching leafs echoed behind you, one set of footsteps in particular on your heels. Eerie laughter filled your ears as you threw one foot in front of the other, desperate to get away.

You had decided to follow Jack once he left your house. It wasn’t a logical thing to do, knowing that from what Jack talked about other beings like him existed. You knew Jack was a one of one and so were the others he told you stories about. He promised to introduce you to them someday, but not today.

Curiosity got a hold of your better judgment, causing you to slowly trail behind him. Curiosity was about to kill the cat. You could feel your lungs burning, a whooshing sound flying past your ear. You gasped as a rusty axe had been thrown into the tree beside your head. It had nearly nipped you, your ear millimeters from the blade.

What you didn’t realize, was that the moment you walked into these predators territory, you’d become the prey.

Jack knew you had followed him. He was fine with you doing so. Up until now, he had assumed the Supernatural borders prevented any human from entering. As an animalistic growl escaped his throat, weaving through the trees, he realized he had never been more wrong.

Toby was close behind you, Jack could hear his mouth twitching with pride as he got closer to you. Your presence had alerted every creep within a five mile radius, none of them aware of who you were. It was Jacks job to stop them from getting to you, ignoring the loud drum of your heartbeat. Thankfully Jack was the fastest, his killing style driven by animalistic primal hunger. He was gaining distance on Toby, reaching one hand out and grabbing him by his hair.

You forced yourself to not look back, to not question the sudden silence of your purser. Typically you thought of yourself to be a decent runner, now realizing track in high school could’ve never prepared you for a situation like this. Once all you heard was silence, you allowed yourself to slow down. Panting, you leaned against the sharp forest bark of one of the trees. Everything around you looked the exact same, like a never ending loop.

It was official. You were lost.

The sound of rushing water intrigued you, your eyes darting in each direction to find the source. Despite the eerie feeling of being alone in such a dark forest, you felt like multiple sets of eyes were watching you. Stalking you. Hunting you. The moonlight dimly lit the forest floor, your feet carrying you in what you believed to be the direction of the river. You had been camping before, the sounds of bugs or owls having previously been a comfort.

But here, in this forest, there were neither of those things. You trudged towards the river, a large river bank coming into view. The water was harsh as it crashed against the rocks below it. Murkiness and darkness prevented you from seeing the bottom of the river, unaware of how deep it was. Or from seeing what creatures lurked below.

Jack was close to catching up with you, his focus on Jeff and Jane as they slowly closed in on you. Jane was nimble, using her small frame and agility to swing through the trees. As Jack watched them both close in on you, it occurred to him neither of them realized the other was present. If the situation wasn’t so dire of your safety he’d watch in amusement just to see what happened next. Jeff went for the kill first, Jacks body flying forward to stop him. But Jane had beat him to it.

The loud crashing sound behind you caused you to jump, instantly turning around. A man and woman, whom you could almost think to be siblings, were visibly fighting in front of you. “What the fuck Jane? Can you not see i’m doing something here?” The man growled. Unsettling crimson blood dripped down the carvings on the side of his face. His cheeks were mutilated beyond belief, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

Fight or flight was not crossing your mind, your body frozen in fear. “I found her long before you did dipshit,” Jane snarled. Knives occupied both of their hands, her unsettling, soulless black abyss for eyes glancing at you. “She’s a cute one, I can see why you wanted the kill. Sadly she’s mine Jeffrey, all mine,” She smirked. Jack went to intervene, the overwhelming sound of two more heartbeats stopping him. Shit, Masky and Hoody. Surely Slender had sent the proxies to check on the situation, Toby beating them due to his speed.

Jack felt conflicted, trying to rationalize what to do. If he intervened Jeff and Jane now, he would have to take both of them on as well as the proxies. His gaze landed on the two pale killers, both of them still bickering. But, if he managed to stop the proxies fast enough, he could come back and retrieve you. The proxies wouldn’t be hard to find, their heartbeats and smell practically giving Jack a map. He felt awful leaving you, the petrified look of horror written across your face as you watched the fight in front of you.

As the sound of the proxies grew closer, Jack turned around, chasing after the sound of pounding hearts.

“You always do this! I find a good kill and here comes Jane!” Jeff argued. Jane rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault we have the same type,” She debated. Slowly you tried to back away, hoping they’d be so involved in their debate they’d forget about your presence. “You’re such a bitch, always copying me and my shit, find another hobby will ya?”Jeff spat harshly.You swallowed as you kept your eyes on them, trying to figure out if you could out run them.

Snap.

Both sets of eyes landed on you, your blood running cold. You could feel the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, everything in you screaming to run. Their eyes contained a certain unnatural hunger, the kind that would only be satisfied by watching you bleed. “You know, the more I think about it, maybe we can call it even just this once, since it’s a special occasion,” Jeff said softly, glancing at Jane. As his eyes moved you noticed that he didn’t blink, his never ending gaze shifting back and forth. His eye sockets were hollow, your mind struggling to make sense of his rancid appearance. He had no eyelids?

“Maybe we should, how often do humans stumble through our forest like this?” Jane replied, chuckling. The two had seemed to come to a decision, moving in unison. They seemed to be patiently waiting for a chase, waiting for you to run. As you turned your back you heard an animalistic growl, one that you could only assume came from one of the pale killers.

What you didn’t realize, was that Jack was ready to rip Jeff apart limb by limb. The two pale killers were blindsided, Jane gasping as she fell to the ground. The demon had Jeff pinned to the ground, snarling above him. It was forbidden to kill another creep, especially on Slender’s grounds. “EJ what-” Jeff began babbling, the animalistic snarl from Jacks throat silencing him. Jane scoffed as she stood up, brushing off her dress.

“If you wanted the kill yourself there’s no sense in being so dramatic, just say so,” She quipped. Jacks gaze stranded from Jeff, settling on Jane as she fully regained her confidence. Jack was never one to hurt a lady, so instead he came up with a different solution. Standing up fully he picked her up, harshly gripping her arms as he tossed her into the nearby river.

You could hear her screams of despair as you continued running into the forest. Whipping your head around to look behind you, for the first time since you had entered the land of terror no one was following you. Your legs burned, your mind spinning. You felt dizzy, your vision beginning to be clouded with stars. The only thing you had on you was your phone. Shakily you took it out of your pocket, thumbing in the password.

Who would you even call? Jack didn’t have a phone, you had no service. You sighed, blankly scrolling between the apps you couldn’t use. Your eyes widened as your screen went black. Did it die? On seventy nine percent? You tilted your head to the side as a camera came into focus, a young blonde man with black and red eyes staring back at you. “Oh wow, hello there gorgeous! EJ sure does know how to pick em huh?” He asked. His pointy ears twitched. That was the final straw. You tossed your phone onto the ground, stomping on it with your boot. The glass shattered, your once prized possession now garbage.

Tilting your head back you let out a pained sigh. How long was it before these maniacs caught up with you? Looking around you found a decent stick. In comparison to the knives and axes the others were equipped with it would be nothing, but you’d go down fighting.

Snap.

You quickly turned around, gripping your stick tightly. Wincing as the wood cut the palm of your hand, you braced yourself. Swallowing, you tried to find the noises creator. A gush of wind breezed past you from a different direction, your eyes darting to your left. What if they were all circling you? Like a pack of wolves? What if this was in the end?

In the dull moonlight you were able to make out a tall figure, your fight or flight kicking in. Hastily you rose your stick, slamming it down on the shadow in front of you. A large hand grabbed your stick, snapping it half, before sending you on the ground. Your collision with the ground knocked the air out of your lungs, your back hitting the dirt below. Instinctively you began thrashing, a strong set of hands pinning you down.

“Hey, hey, HEY, calm down! Look at me!” Jacks voice was firm, filled with worry. Were you going insane? Seeing Jeff was definitely enough to make someone do so. He didn’t want you to end up like Nina. You blinked a few times, Jacks mask long discarded. Blood dripped down his nose, staining his upper lip. A gash sliced across his cheek, the same crimson paint dripping down his gray skin. “Jack?” You panted.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute, Jacks attention temporarily preoccupied as you attempted to catch your breath. His mind returned to normal the moment you began rambling.

“Holy shit there was a guy with an axe who sounded literally like a ticking time bomb and then this like mutilated albino couple wanted to kill me as well and then this dwarf-”

Jack gripped your shoulders, shaking you.

“Why would you come here? Do you understand how difficult it is for me to protect you here?” He panted. His body was becoming tired. Sprinting across Slender forest and fighting off all of his friends was exhausting, even for him. Your eyes were widened as his hands gripped you harder unintentionally. “You single handedly alerted every monster in the goddamn area that there was fresh meat on the market,” Jack continued. You winced in pain as his grip tightened.

“Jack, you’re hurting me.”

His eye sockets widened, the demon releasing you. He stayed on top of you, the two of you blankly staring at one another. “You’re bleeding,” Jack commented. The deeper he inhaled the stronger the scent became, electric cravings crawling across his skin. You didn’t have a chance to tell him where it was coming from, the demon grabbing your wrist to examine your palm.

The blood wasn’t bad, a small stream dripping down the precious little lines of your palm. To think that when he wanted to, he could hunt down whoever he wanted. That truly, you belonged to him. No matter the danger that he created or that others around you did, he was able to restrain himself. To protect you. The scent of your blood made his stomach flip, his body flooding with desire. Your legs shifted under him, your body becoming warmer as he touched you.

Your voice was low, a desperate whisper, “Jack…”

The worry that clouded Jacks mind was washed away by the sound of your soft voice. The only sound that could calm him down and make him feel at ease,was the enchanting sound of you saying his name. You yanked his hoodie, desperately bringing his lips to yours. Your blood soaked into the clothing, a groan escaping Jacks throat.

The delicious sound of your heart beginning to race flooded his ears, his hips slowly grinding on yours. You whimpered, pawing at his hoodie to bring him impossibly closer. Your lips melted against his, submitting to his rougher desperate kisses. His large hands slithered up your shirt, squeezing and kneading at your breast. You groaned into his mouth, the demon trying to be careful as to not nip you with his teeth.

“Here?” You panted, whimpering as he pushed up your bra. Jack kissed down the side of your neck gently, the throbbing pulse of your throat almost too much for him to handle. “I’ll make it quick love, I just need to let everyone in a five mile radius know who you belong to,” Jack huffed, bringing your right nipple into his mouth. You felt his multiple tongues attack the bud, his name spilling from your lips. With a pop he released your nipple, kissing down your stomach.

“How long until they come looking for us again?” You asked nervously, Jacks nimble fingers quickly unbuttoning and sliding down your jeans. He looked up at the sky. “I’d say till dawn,” He guessed. You giggled as he repositioned himself between your legs, your jeans shoved down to your ankles. “Guess you better hurry up then,” You say. His slender fingers began teasingly rubbing your slick through your panties, the thin cloth drenched.

“Let’s make sure you can take me first you troublemaker,” Jack teased, grinning at the sound of you moaning for him. He slid two of his slender fingers in front of you, your walls squeezing him as he curled them inside of you. Desperately you bucked your hips upwards, throwing your head back as he hit your g spot. “All that running made you awfully sensitive, huh?” Jack joked, relishing in the sight of you grabbing at his wrist, the one that was connected to the hand inside of you.

“Jack, fuck, please,” You whined. Jacks eye sockets widened.

He hesitated, “Please what?”

Your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, the humiliation of him making you say what you needed settling in. “Please fuck me,” You pleaded, your voice cracking. Jacks hands were quick to work on his belt, the sound of the metal clinking sending a chill down your spine. You bit your lip as you eyed the leather, Jack noticing. A devilish sadistic thought entered his mind, his lips curling upwards.

“You want to try something new?” Jack asked, slightly guessing. You nodded, meeting his gaze. You vocalized a plea, Jack quick to flip you over. Your bare knees hit the dirt of the forest, the smell of the earth flooding your nostrils. Instinctively you went to arch your back, Jack stopping you by yanking you back by your shirt. “You might want to stay on all fours,” He purred in your ear, kissing your earlobe. He wrapped his belt around your neck, holding the metal buckle in his hand.

It cut off a decent portion of your airway, a groan escaping your lips at the sensation of being choked. “You’re into bondage now? Such a whore for me,” Jack chuckled darkly, stroking his cock. He rubbed his tip up and down your folds, trying to lubricate his cock as best as possible. Despite how drenched you got every time he was around, you always struggled to accommodate his size. And every single time it sent Jack into a frenzy, determination to make it fit ensuing.

He glanced up at the sky, the sun rising very faintly in the distance. “We don’t have very long, be a good girl and take it,” Jack snarled, shoving himself inside of you. You felt your body being split in two, his spare hand snaking down to your clit. He rubbed circles around the sensitive bud, trying to relax your body as much as possible. “You wanna be good for me don’t you slut? Relax for me,” He huffed, bottoming out inside of you. You were tense, grabbing handfuls of leafs and dirt.

He could feel you spasm around him as you struggled to accommodate to his size, whimpering as your vision became hazy. After what felt like forever to Jack, he could feel your body relax. “There we go, such a good girl for me aren’t you?” Jack purred in satisfaction. He pulled back his hips, taking himself out of you. He then brought himself back inside, pleased to hear the sound of you letting out a choked out moan. He continued to swirl around your clit, his thrust becoming faster.

You felt light headed as the leather pressed against your throat, choking on the sinful noises that echoed through out the forest. “Fuck, if I had known letting you into Slender’s forest would’ve gotten you so hot and bothered, I would’ve done it a long time ago,” Jack panted, his cock abusing your g spot. You were seeing stars, each thrust sending you into orbit. “Taking me so well, just like a good mate should,” He growled. His grip on the belt tightened, your airway temporarily cut off.

His thrust became more animalistic, the gears in his head turning. The savage and primal instinct washed over him, his coherent thoughts now vanished. Instead they were replaced with one thought and one thought only:

Breed breed breed.

“Fuck, you’re going to look so pretty with my cum leaking from that pretty cunt of yours,” Jack snarled. He released the belt, the leather flying forward and onto the ground. His large hands instead grabbed your waist, squeezing the flesh so harshly you swore you’d have bruise in the shape of his fingers. “Jack, fucking shit,” You moaned, his thrust merciless and brutal. He showed no sign of stopping, no sign of slowing. You could feel a familiar knot form in your stomach, one that Jack had made more times than you could count.

“I can feel you getting close for me. Need you to cum for me, need to fill you,” Jack huffed, holding back his own orgasm. Your back arched as you fell further forward, the side of your face pressed against the dirt. The sun was beginning to rise, your thighs trembling. “Jack I-,” You mewled, your orgasm washing over you like a ton of bricks. Jack couldn’t resist himself, fucking you through your orgasm. His hips began to stutter, the demon screwing his eyes shut as he came deep inside of you.

Dazed, you continued to hold your ass up in the air as Jack pulled out of you. The sight of his cum seeping out of your cunt was divine. With two fingers he scooped up the dripping cum, pushing it back inside of you, ignoring your whimpers. Gently he guided you onto his lap, wiping the dirt off of your face with his thumb. The sun began rising, the beams of sunlight dancing in between the trees as they hit the forest floor.

Jack could hear your heart rate begin to turn to normal as you inhaled deeper breaths. “Cmon, gotta get you dressed before the others get back from their hunt,” Jack murmured encouraging, readjusting your bra to fit you correctly. Still in a daze, you leaned your head against Jacks shoulder, allowing him to redress you. A small breeze blew past the two of you, the faint smell of blood hitting Jacks nose. He was sure the other creeps would be back any moment now, their kills fresh blood still staining their skin and clothes.

Quickly he dressed himself, scooping you into his arms. You had never been picked up bridal style before, instinctively you nuzzled your head against Jacks chest. Making sure you both had everything, Jack quickly looked around, noticing your shattered phone. He began walking towards the mansion, taking note you were beginning to drift off.

“Yeah, I think it’s time you met Ben. He owes you a new phone anyways.”

[elodieunderglass]

Wait I dont remember if this has ever come up but like. How would the Horseboys react to cowboy culture

(the horseboy OCs)

It hasn't come up! I did this silly picture of them:

I think it would be fascinating to consider, although I don't know much about (modern or historical) cowboy culture myself.

some horsey gifs under the cut:

As you probably know, they feature very different riding styles. For people who might not, today's modern Western riding disciplines take a small nimble quarter horse-type with a big heavy saddle and an equestrian of any stature, and they do tricks that involve handling a horse like a combination of a dog-agility performance and trick motorcycle stunts. The seat - the rider's posture and communication - is a deep seat, like you're in an armchair, speaking through the legs and putting weight in your bum. A Western horse should "turn on a dime" - (dimes are the smallest American coin and the horse should have a microscopically small turn radius.) You are looking for power and control, often evidenced by riding so much through the seat that you only use one hand for reins (also looks very cool.) Look at the amount of tack on the horse, the size of the gear, and the depth of the seat.

You don't really jump in Western riding, it's more about manoeuvres. A jockey rides in a very different seat, diametrically opposite. As athletes they train up to "float" in the stirrups. This allows the muscles of the horse's back to operate without their bodyweight, but at the expense of needing the rider to be at athlete - and look how much less contact they have. Much less physical connection between bodies, less stability, the balance and control they have is entirely in muscles, not the saddle.

While I think Killie is probably a very good bareback rider, and a magical horsegirl equestrian whose powers should never leave him, I think he'd be such a SILLY cowboy! and I cannot get past this mental imagery. Especially one in a historical cowboy setting. You look at him out of the corner of the eye and he's entirely hovering six inches off the horse, not actually touching the horse at all, and then when he catches sight of you, drops down and looks guilty, and the horse is looking at you like getta loada this guy.

Charlie meanwhile is just vibing. probably working in a saloon and claiming to be from New York.

[vasel1ne]

for i cannot forgo your warmth (i will miss it dearly)

✩࿐ summary - physical possessions (both borrowed and gifted) that remind them of your warmth

✩࿐ warnings - mentions of blood, smoking and weapons

✩࿐ pairings - aglaea, fugue, gallagher, boothill, serval x gn!reader

aglaea keeps your golden pocket knife on the strap of her outer left thigh. the handle is a coarse, brown leather but the silver-gold metal of the actual blade shines with a gleam that has not met the squalor taste of blood. she wishes it won’t at all, but she knows it eventually will with her reputation as the “heartless” chrysos heir – although only for her own protection of course, she would not dare damage her dearests’ possessions. aglaea flicks her memories to the countless times she has seen you balance the blade between your nimble, agile fingers, demonstrating a plethora of tricks with the weapon as if it were an extension of your own body – from simply spinning the dagger between your fingers to twirling the sharpened side with your bare hands, she has seen it all.

she remembers the way you placed the blade in the expanse of her palm the night of your departure, the auburn tint of leather a stark contrast to the paleness of her skin. her breath always hitches when she remembers how you made her vow to you that she would protect herself, that she would “be selfish for once” – you held the hand that held your precious dagger as she made such promises to you, further dampening your departure by pressing a kiss to the side of her head. so now, aglaea keeps the blade tucked under carefully crafted robes of silk – just under the leather strap that wraps around her upper thigh.

gifted to her by you, fugue keeps ornamental hair pins in her possession at all times. as much as she may adore her long brunette locks she can admit that – more often than not – it shields her face when she is trying to eat miscellaneous snacks she buys from street vendors. finding this small peeve to dullen her experiences of strolling through the luofu’s streets, she vents her frustrations to you. naturally, a few days later she bids you farewell on your travels and thinks nothing more of her previous vexation. when you return and present her a wrapped crimson cloth, she is convinced that you’ve simply bought her a few more foreign crystals – it's not a bad thing when you do though, in fact she does quite like them, placing them in a straw-woven basket in her room. but this time, she unravels the cloth to reveal a few hairpins, a rich gold tone with intricate weaving of quartz and crimson red detailing – it seems to fit her daily attire almost perfectly.

fugue is initially confused, her head tilting to the side slightly but a small appreciative smile nevertheless. she starts to understand the incentive behind the gift when you recall her previous vexations about her hair getting in the way while she eats, and she claps her hands with glee and slight surprise and adoration that you would remember such a thing, wrapping her arms around you and placing kiss to your cheek. now whenever fugue goes out to stroll the streets of the luofu, she makes sure that she has her hair pins somewhere in her purse.

gallagher is a seemingly put-together man, however in actuality resembles the memory of a goldfish when he forgets yet again to bring a lighter to your smoke break. you’re both sitting in a secluded corner of golden hour, hidden away from his underlings when you reluctantly let him use the flame of your beloved lighter. simple is the last thing to describe the small thing, its iron casing with labyrinthine patterns and silver-gold borders makes it way above both of your guys’ pay grade. the little cherry on top is the rose flower illustrated onto the iron casing, it too also having a silver-gold border. a smirk reaches his face when you toss the lighter to him, “nice lighter you got here,” he whistles, before lighting his cigarette and tossing it over back to you.

it was foolish of you to think that your partner would have the capacity to remember his own lighter the next time you decide to take a smoke break, but alas you find yourselves in the same predicament as last time. you give a pointed glare and a roll of your eyes, handing it over to him as you lean against his side. subtly watching him from the corner of your eyes, you watch the way his calloused fingertips run over the grooved indents and patterns of the iron casing, the smile that graces his broad features when he admires the rose on the front.

the next time you’re both supposed to take your smoke break together, gallagher receives a text message from you that reads, “busy :( sorry dear can’t come” which in response he sends a quick thumbs up emoji. taking a cigarette out of a packet he realizes that he’s forgotten his lighter. again. then he receives another text message, “check your pockets ;)” sliding his hand down his right back pocket, he feels a small hard object. pulling it out to inspect it, a rose-engraved iron cased lighter sits in the palm of his hand and gallagher can’t help but bark a laugh.

boothill gets into scraps, more than often than you’d like, and much to your dismay he doesn’t intend on stopping. nevertheless, you’re always by his side after these little fights, washcloth in hand. at first, he sent you a confused look, eyebrows raised as the cloth wiped the blood off his metal chest. “why clean there – no point when it’s metal,’ he said offhandedly, leaning back with his arms supporting him. you had sighed as you wrung the washcloth in the soapy bucket, the water already turning a translucent pink. “why do we brush our teeth every night? go to bed?” you had asked him, turning your attention to his scratched and bloodied abdomen, “it’s because taking care of our body gives us the opportunity to take care of other things too,” you smiled when the inky colour of his eyes met your own, “and i think that that is one of the best things in the universe,” you said as you wiped the remaining crimson off his stomach, sealing your words with a kiss. 

without you by his side, he launches himself into the battlefield – his fearlessness and relentless nature on the field apparent in the way blood stains the reflective silver of his upper body. but now this time, boothill has a washcloth – tucked away in the pockets of his pants. you’re not there with him, to drag the cloth over his bare chest with a gentility he had never experienced until he had met you, but he can feel those moments when his fingertips graze the fibers of the cloth. so, when he gets into a scrap at golden hour, he finds himself huffing and puffing his way to the rinky-dink bar bathroom, where he braces himself against the sink. taking out the washcloth, he runs it under the tap and starts to dap away at the dirtied spots of his chest, abdomen and arms. all so maybe one day, he could do this for you.

being serval’s partner automatically makes you her involuntary lab assistant. she doesn’t ask you to do anything too hard of course, merely measuring out a few chemicals, finding bits and pieces in her workshop or just standing by her side as she tinkers with a possibly explosive invention. she also doesn’t force you to do anything if she sees you are too tired or stressed, which happens one night after a particularly arduous expedition with the silvermane guards. you’re lounging in serval’s workshop, waiting for her to finish up and your eyes cannot help but stare at your girlfriend as she weaves through her space, fetching various measurement cups and chemicals from her shelves. you watch as she very, very slowly pours in the liquid into one of the cups, eyeing it with such intensity that you worry the glass might shatter from the weight of her gaze. her electrified blue eyes are barely visible now, squinting so hard that you also fear that serval may squint her way into a migraine. 

sighing to yourself, you walk upstairs to retrieve a pair of reading glasses on your bedside table, and unsurprisingly, serval is still pouring the liquid into the beaker. sliding your hands along her shoulders to get her attention, she sets the bottle down on the counter and chirps a “hm?” when she turns to face you. plopping your reading glasses on her face, the glasses actually fit perfectly on her, the simple black rectangular frame reminds you of something akin to the old man at belebog’s museum and you giggle. serval doesn’t think much of it at the time, giving you a peck on the lips and a small “thanks” before continuing her work. you note that this time, she has her eyes open normally, having no problem with pouring the liquid into the beaker.

you also notice that serval asks you less and less to help her out in her workshop, but instead finding your reading glasses more on her face than your bedside table. of course you don’t mind, in fact, you think she looks ten times more dashing and charming with them on, biting the corner of your lip to stop yourself from smiling whenever she has them on. she even sometimes has them perching right above her forrid when talking to her actual assistant molly, and you have to restrain yourself from planting a big fat kiss on her cheek. though, it eventually makes you wonder that all those times when you were her involuntary assistant, you were more her pair of eyes then anything else.

✩࿐ a/n - after intensely staring at character designs for the past few hours i have brought you this! honkai star rail's prettiest right here

thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed !

[bnyf]

fawn over you ♡

yandere hunter x fawn hybrid reader

warnings : yandere content and themes, unhealthy behaviors, relationship and relationship dynamic

authoress note : first post :3 lowkey inspired by 'my sweet bunny cage' manga and i'm planning on making a bunny hybrid one too

his heart almost imploded and gave out upon sighting such a delicate, dainty fawn such as yourself.

little ole you had him in a rhapsodic trance, him whom's nature greatly differed from hers (you).

he, a mere man who's psychological disturbances causes him to hunt and kill. and you, a lovely creature who now gained the attention of a brute man who's main objective was to capture and claim.

the pattern on your skin like pearls, little dots trailing you. so perfect, almost impossible yet here you were.

it didn't help that by the beautiful white lily of the valley flowers surrounded you, like it was a symbol of how fucking perfect and graceful you are. you were ethereal. an angel or a goddess.

and god, those beautiful glassy orbs peaking his way held nothing but the universe and more in them. so innocent. the epitome of pretty and perfect.

he's sorry you had to meet him of all people, someone who'd ruin and corrupt you but he'd also worship you, others may do much worse to you anyway.

his movements were so still that you'd only notice him due to your instinctive feeling of being watched. your tailed and ears twitched.

you shivered, feeling bare and open to such preying eyes with selfish intent behind them.

his eyes held such a mad and malicious look, as if he were some sort of barbaric mad lad. he looks honcho and quite the opposite of you whom had a much smaller and soft physique.

his whole aura wrecked of death, he is, without a doubt, a true blood lusting predator's, a troubled psychopathy who needed to take his frustrations out on poor, unsuspecting creatures.

with that in mind, and thanks to your nimble agility and speed, you darted off before he could even approach you from the shades of the trees only 10 feet away from you.

he'd only chuckle to himself, engulfed by your beauty and elegance, and more than intrigued by the pretty, little doe-eyed fawn hybrid he just had the pleasure to encounter.

sure. you're quick witted. but being quick only gets you tangled up in a trap quicker.

and with that, his infatuation steadily mounts. he immediately started littering the leafy forest grounds in traps ever since that faithful encounter.

you've taken extra precaution after that day, hiding far away from his cabin and even further from that specific meeting sight.

like a lethal game of hide n seek, you both played your parts. and just like that, you started feeling more unsafe and uneasy knowing that he'd set up traps and cameras, watching your every move, both during the day and night.

sure. he had a life outside of this secluded forest he loves visiting. which is the only thing really giving you time to run and hide.

his work life was distressing as a lawyer, it was a very mentally, emotionally and sometimes psychically taxing line of work.

but that don't mean much considering whenever he got time or a day off, whether late night or not, he'd clear out an entire section of the forest with traps and cameras.

and eventually, you run out of both stamina and luck. you become dreary and tired, exhausted from fearing for your life. and your little stalker becomes impatient.

your little game of cat and mice becomes long over due, and sooner or later, you find yourself injured and trapped in enemy's territory.

it only takes 12 hours for him to finally come off work and whatever other things he may be preoccupied with in his life to come get you.

mean time, you kept your wound clean by licking it, fearing what he'll do to you once he gets there.

and boy oh boy, were you shivering when you'd hear the sound of twigs cracking under heavy boots approaching in the darkness of the light midnight. he's here.

you already cried a lot from the pain and realization of your situation but that didn't stop you from repeating the whole process again.

tears already brimming at your swollen, red eyes. the light from his flashlight becoming brighter as he gets nearer, near enough to shine the light directly at you, in your eyes and blinding you from seeing him.

yet he could quite clearly see you, those teary innocent eyes, your wound. every detail up close right in front of him as you lay right in his trap. looking at you with a sinister smile which you cannot see, leaving you guessing what smug facial expression he must have right now.

he let out a feral, maniac laugh.

"my little fawn, you're finally mine."

you had no where to run or hide anymore. grasping onto what little sanity you have now and praying for whatever great deity above to have mercy upon your innocent soul.

what awaited you next was a life of constant torment. the tears run off your chubby soft cheeks, colliding with your skin and the snot in your runny nose made the whole ordeal pathetic and shameful for you.

but to him? it was such an exquisite show! to him... that disgusting crying face of yours was nothing short of adorable.

he grabbed you away, kidnapping you from your carefree life of freedom. the last thing you felt was a prickling sting on your neck before you were enticed with an unknown sleeping drug that took effect instantly.

all the stress and negative emotions that were building up inside subsided as you were knocked out cold, remembering only his footsteps as he carried you to your new home...

the rest of your days were all a painful blur, you were cared for yes but you'd now have shackles placed on your ankles, a big enough cage and a collar. forced to comply to whatever rules he'd put in place for you. punished when disobeyed those rules. dressed to his liking, feed like a child and forced to learn tricks for his entertainment.

for lack of better words, you've been reduced to a pet.

his pet

your leg wound was still healing, which made escaping difficult. worse yet, his home in the city was large and difficult to navigate, with a built in security system that is literally impossible for anyone to get in or out without permission.

"shhhh don't be so scared, you're safe with me, my little fawn," he'd coax, all while keeping you sedated and locked up. you don't know why but for some reason he'd smell strange but also strangely good at the same time. you'd feel a bit oozy when around him, and inhaling his scent was addictive.

that's because his cologne is laced with pheromones and a special drug to get you addicted off him.

but you didn't know that, and you didn't need to know that. your innocent self blamed yourself for becoming addicted to him. he only smiled and hugged you, because he knows you can't think straight every time he's near.

keep this up and he might just send you into heat a little too early. not! that it's a bad thing for him, not that he wouldn't like that of course.

you hated every bit of this. hated him for making you into his glorified object rather than a living being, a person with thoughts and feelings.

but oooohhhh how he loved every second of it, loved dressing you up in all sorts of cute clothing like some little doll, loved pulling your collar when you misbehaved, and absolutely adored watching you get high off him.

the way your nose twitched, and your little tail sweep from side to side, that look you give him cause you're thinking this is all your fault when it's absolutely not.

[vashs-turtleneck]

Nimble-fingered.

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) Summary: Vash is good with his hands. Like, really good with his hands. Pairing: Vash the Stampede x f!reader Word count: 2.6k Content: smut, finger riding, dirty talk, pwp, teasing Vash A/N: I like his hands what can I say. Barely proofread this so if there's mistakes my bad.

✧ [Bonus chapter] - if you want more

NSFW BELOW, 18+ ONLY, MDNI!

Vash has pretty hands.

His flesh hand is warm, his fingers long and talented, his palms calloused and large. His prosthetic is beautiful, cold and strong. When he touches you, the contrast between the two is exhilarating.

And Vash is very good with his hands.

You've seen firsthand the things he can do with them; How they handle everything they touch with a deliberate and deadly precision, be it his gun, the reigns of a thomas, you.

There's something so teasing about the way his glove covers his middle and ring fingers. Your mind wanders to the ways he uses those fingers, how they agile they are when he holds his gun, how downright dangerous they are when he has them curled so perfectly inside you that he has you seeing stars.

You've been staring at them all night, and Vash, being as observant and aware of you as he is, has taken notice.

"Mayfly, are you even listening to me?" He tilts his head down to meet your eyes, a soft pout on his face, and your gaze shoots away from his hands to look at him.

"S-Sorry! I'm a bit spacey today, I guess." You chuckle nervously, your gaze leaving him as you look around the tavern, trying to find something else to take your mind off all the dirty thoughts filling your head.

But the flush on your cheeks betrays you, your thighs absentmindedly clenching together, and Vash sees it instantly. You feel the fingers of his prosthetic cup your cheek, turning your head to face him again. The glare reflecting off his orange lens hides those pretty baby blues, but you already know he's staring right at you like a meal.

"Oh yeah? Is that what it is?" He says, a teasing grin splitting his handsome face. His cold fingers caress your cheek, gently coaxing your face closer to his. "So distracted you won't even listen to me?"

Your breath hitches, his fingers trailing to the tip of your chin and holding your face up towards his.

"How about I help you focus, hm? Keep your eyes on me."

Oh, you're in trouble.

_____________

Vash leans comfortably back against the small couch, the old, dusty material sagging around him from your combined weight. His legs are parted wide beneath you, giving you ample space to steady yourself as you straddle his thighs. You're flushed, breathless, cunt stuffed with two gloved and dexterous fingers as his prosthetic cradles your body, tracing your lines and your curves as you bounce yourself on his hand. Your hands grip the collar of his open jacket as you pump yourself full of his fingers, your thighs trembling from the pleasure and exertion.

You're splayed completely bare on him, your clothes scattered all over the floor, while he hasn't taken off so much as his glasses. His baby blues stare at you reverently, admiring the delicious view in front of him through tinted lenses. His only goal right now is to please you until you're completely spent and for you to give him the privilege of watching you come undone on his fingers.

Except, he's not moving his hand.

"Keep going, baby. Don't stop now." Vash purrs, watching as you eagerly fill yourself with his fingers over and over.

"V-Vash..." You mewl his name, your voice a little pathetic, breathy whimper. "P-Please, move your hand."

He looks up at you, tilting his head to the side with a playful smirk plastered on his face.

"Hm? But why? You're doing such a good job all on your own, mayfly." He coos.

Oh, he's being so teasing tonight.

You continue to bounce yourself on his lap, moving up and down on his long fingers. It feels so, so good. You're a blubbering, moaning mess in front of him, and he hasn't even given you his cock yet.

"That's it, just like that. Use my hand to feel good. You know I love watching you feel good." He purrs against your ear, planting soft kisses along the side of your face before leaning slightly back, making sure to get a good view of your cunt engulfing his fingers. His glove is completely soaked through, your slick dripping down the fabric and soaking his lap, where your juices mix with his own precum against the front of his pants.

You do know how much he loves watching you, taking in your pleasure like it's his own. That paired with how needy you are for him tonight has Vash's heart beating out of his chest with pure lust and a desire for you to feel good, to use him to make yourself come over and over.

"Mmph! Gripping my fingers so tight, sweetheart. Makes me wanna fill you up with something bigger." He groans, watching your pussy drool, your slick pooling on the tented fabric covering his hardened cock.

"Yes. Want you to. Please, want you to fill me up, Vash." Your hands leave his coat, fingers trailing down along his muscled frame, feeling him through his shirt before you start to hastily try to unbuckle his belt. But Vash is much faster than you, the nimble fingers of his prosthetic gently gripping both your wrists and pulling them away from his lap.

"Ah, ah. Not yet, mayfly. You'll have to be a bit more patient, okay?" He whispers with a breathy chuckle, bringing the wrists he has so delicately wrapped in his grasp to his lips, planting soft, almost apologetic kisses to them. You can feel him press his warm lips to your palms, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Vash! Please. I can't- I need-" He stifles your words with a deep kiss to your lips, and you can feel him smiling against you.

"I know. I'm sorry, sweetheart. You know I'll give you what you want. I always do. Just want to enjoy you like this for a little longer, alright?" He whispers sweetly, words so soft you almost wouldn't believe he was splitting you with his thick fingers right now.

Your breaths are heavy and shaky, becoming more labored as your move yourself faster and faster against him, eyes fluttering with pleasure. He lets go of your wrists, and you're quick to grasp his shoulders to steady yourself again. You're so embarrassed right now from how needy you are, how desperate you are for him to fill you to the brim with his thick cock, but when he's looking at you like you're the most delicious thing he's ever seen, eyes worshipping every inch of your naked form, you can only keep going. You can feel your pussy clench around his digits, the tight knot inside you getting ready to burst. Vash, being all too familiar with the look you adopt on your face when you get dangerously close, notices immediately.

"You gonna come all over my hand again, baby?"

With a whine, you turn your head away in embarrassment, your face a deep crimson at how quickly and easily you come undone with him. But just as quickly as you look away, he softly grabs your face and turns it back towards him, cold metal fingers on your cheeks.

"Eyes on me, mayfly. I wanna see you. You're so beautiful when you make yourself feel good." He whispers hoarsly before pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. Despite his lewd words, there's not a hint of teasing in his voice.

His metal thumb traces your lips, and without a second thought, your lips part, taking the digit into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. The sight makes Vash moan hoarsely, instinctively bucking his hips up against you and letting you feel just how much he's aching under his tented pants.

"F-Fuck, you're being naughty tonight, mayfly." He groans, gently pressing his thumb further into your mouth and down on your tongue, being careful not to push too far.

"Is this what you wanted? You couldn't keep your pretty eyes off my hands all day today, could you? Is this what you wanted me to do you?"

Now he's teasing, and it's making you flush an even deeper red, your moans and whines muffled by the finger in your mouth. Your voice quivers with want, your body trembling as you bounce yourself on his fingers, cunt sucking in his fingers, and it only makes Vash smile fondly at you while he plays with your tongue.

"Who would've thought my angel could be so dirty? You were so busy thinking about me stuffing this pretty pussy all day that you didn't even listen to a word I said, is that right? Is this what you were thinking about, mayfly?"

God, he's being so teasing, but you'd be lying if you pretended that that's not exactly what you were thinking about all day when you looked at him. Glassy eyed, you nod and whimper around his thumb, tongue lewdly lavishing the metal. "Mhmm..." You whine, eyes upturned into a wanting, desperate stare as you look back at him. The look on your face fills him with a sense of pride, a deep satisfaction at how well he handles your body.

"Then let me give you everything you want, angel." He coos as his finger leaves your mouth with a soft pop of your lips, fingers trailing along your jawline before moving lower, his wet thumb tracing your pulse point as he slowly moves down to your chest. You feel the cool metal knead one of your breasts, dwarfing it in his large palm. His thumb roughly rolls over your perked nipple before he gently pinches it, making you moan wantonly and dig your nails into the fabric covering his broad shoulders.

Fuck, he's playing your body like an instrument.

"Oh, you're so good. Being such a good girl. Gonna make you come on my fingers, mayfly. You can give me one more, can't you?"

"One more."

He said that last time.

And the time before that.

You're a panting, mewling mess. You can feel your juices dripping down your thighs, coating his warm and calloused hand. You feel like you're in a lovedrunk haze, and all you can focus on is the man beneath you and the pleasure he's teasing you with.

"Vash, please..." Your voice is whiny and broken, words barely understandable through your heavy gasps for breath, and Vash has never seen a more breathtaking sight.

With an adoring and almost innocent smile, he suddenly curls his fingers inside you, pressing against that spot he knows makes you howl with rapture, and a deep growl rumbles in his chest when you cry out and tighten your grip on his shoulders.

"So good. So amazing. Fuck, you're so beautiful. Can't get enough of you." He pulls you closer and groans against the shell of your ear, trailing his tongue along the space behind it before moving down to nibble at your neck.

He starts to finally, finally move his fingers, pumping them against your sweet spot in tandem with the rhythm of your hips. You moan out loudly as he takes you apart with talented fingers, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

"Mayfly..." His voice is soft and loving against your ear, yet it holds all your attention. When your eyes flutter to his, you see his eyes dart down to sopping cunt, and then back up to you, a gentle command for what he wants you to do, and you know him well enough to know what it is.

With a soft, embarrassed whine, one of your hands lets go of his shoulder. You bring your shaky fingers down your body to the apex of your sex, drawing circles over your neglected clit. Your eyes flutter closed, face flushing from the obscenity of the act, but you can't stop the high-pitched moans that leave your lips as curls his fingers even harder in response.

"That's it. Good girl. God, such a good girl, angel." He groans, staring down at your drooling sex as you play with yourself. He's being so indulgent tonight, yet he won't even let you touch him. He's just sat back and drowning in your pleasure, and he's loving every second of it.

"Keep making pretty sounds like that and I'm gonna come without so much as a touch, mayfly." He teases, his eyes drinking in the sight of you rubbing your sensitive little bud, moaning when he feels your hips start to stutter.

He moves his hand faster now, taking control of your pace. He pumps his fingers into you all the way down to his soaking knuckles with enough power to jolt you with every motion.

"C-Close, Vash. Gonna come, gonna come!"

At the feeling of your body quivering in his lap, Vash pinches your nipple again, thumb flicking over the perked bud. Like he can't help himself, he grinds his hips upwards against you in rhythm with his hand, pressing his aching cock against the plush of your thigh.

"Yes, yes, yes! Come, mayfly. Come on my fingers again for me."

Your eyes clench closed tightly, your breathing ragged and quivering. He has you in his complete control, quite literally in the palm of his hand as he meticulously and lovingly abuses every single one of your weak spots. He knows exactly what he's doing to you, and he's getting exactly what he wants.

"Vash!" You cry out his name in the throes of your climax, your back arching and pressing your bare breasts against his clothed chest, your cunt pulsing around his fingers, and Vash moans out obscenely along with you. His hips rut harshly up against you, hard enough that you can feel his pulsing length under the fabric before he stutters and stills, his own whimpers and gasps filling the air with yours.

Did... Did he just come?

Without you even touching him?

Your eyes open and fall to his lap, where you see the growing pool of fluids coat him. You can feel the warmth seeping against your thighs as his cum paints the inside of his pants and soaks the fabric.

"What'd I say, mayfly?" He whispers hoarsly, his voice trembling from the sheer intensity of his orgasm, those beautiful baby blues glassed over and his mouth tilted into a lazy grin in his lovedrunk euphoria. "Without so much as a touch."

Vash's movements soften, his fingers slowly pumping inside your pulsing heat just enough to help you ride out your own orgasm. He's groaning and panting, his own face flushed as he drinks in the lovely look of ecstacy contorting your face.

When your body relaxes, your cunt easing the tight grip on his fingers, he carefully and slowly pulls them out of you, groaning when he sees the strings of your slick that connect his fingers to your pulsing sex. He brings his soaked hand to his mouth, wrapping his lips around the clothed digits and sucks, drinking the fluids of your arousal from the fabric with a groan so deep it makes you shiver, not so much as blinking as his ravenous gaze eats you up. He growls at the taste of you, tongue eagerly swirling at the ring of cream formed at his knuckles.

"Mmmh... Taste so good, mayfly." He mumbles against his own fingers as he gorges himself on your slick. "So fucking good."

You're sat on his lap in silence, panting, chest heaving with every breath, completely enraptured by the vision in front of you. It's so lewd, yet so earnestly worshipping of your body.

When his gloved hand leaves his lips, his hungry stare rakes over your trembling form, and you feel his prosthetic wrap around the back of your head, pulling you into a wet, sloppy kiss. You can taste yourself against his mouth, as well as the taste of fabric from his glove.

As he keeps you there, his tongue teasing your bottom lip before exploring the warm channel of your mouth, you can feel the fingers of his gloved hand move back to their place between your thighs to trace your folds, gathering your slick on his fingertips. It makes you whimper into his mouth, causing him to groan deeply in response before parting from your lips.

"I think you've got one more in you, mayfly. You'll give me one more, won't you?"

"One more."

Oh, you're in trouble.

[bitter-me]

Hello ! Can I ask Savanaclaw with a first year student (platonic) that is like LingYang from Wuthering waves pls ? Ignore it if you don't want to write it !!!

Have a good day !

Another Lion?

Savanaclaw | M. Reader as Lingyang [Wuthering Waves] (Platonic)

----------

"It's like a mini you!"

----------

The day [Name] arrived at Savanaclaw is the day where Leona get's another headache. Such an energetic guy.. honestly where did he got all that energy from? It's annoying. Like a child who's still learning the world around him, believing how being kind and sincere is a good thing. Meanwhile Jack and Ruggie is incredibly happy. [Name] is just such a nice guy, always willing to help, it's a nice change from how many rotten eggs are in Savanaclaw, believing that they're the "strongest."

It's even more interesting how [Name] appears to also be a lion like Leona but turned out way different. Ruggie would always joke how [Name] is the version of Leona if he was kinder. Which earned him quite the death glare. When [Name] offered a private lion dance performance. Boy is it a sight. Watching someone showing their culture and traditions are always a nice experience and seeing him go from pillar to pillar with such swift motions is quite mesmerizing. [Name] is more than happy to teach them lion dancing if they asked.

With how swift he is, [Name] instantly made his way on to the Magical Shift/Spelldrive team in Savanclaw. He's just so agile, perhaps being a lion dancer makes him quite nimble.

Leona still finds him annoying though but after some interactions, [Name] makes a wonderful sleeping buddy. How? Well somehow he always without fail found the nicest and seclusive spots for naps. [Name]'s senses are surprisingly sharper than his, which throw Leona off the loop for a moment, and just like that [Name] had officially become Savanclaw's younger brother, who ever dare lay a single finger on him will answer to the Housewarden.

Ruggie and [Name] bonded like brothers, playing pranks here and there, enjoying life. Jack is like the more responsible older brother. Ready to help, and tries to get the two of them out of trouble, he may seem mean, but he's a big softie.

----------

Spoilers to those who haven't done Lingyang's companion quest

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Leona, Ruggie, Jack, and [Name] were at the Savanaclaw's dorm, Leona is napping like always, while Ruggie and Jack told stories of from their hometown as [Name] listens eagerly, happy to learn new things. "Oh? So it's like a folklore? Jinzhou also had one. It's called the Jingle Beast." [Name] says casually, looking out at the horizon with a faint smile, remembering it well how people use to fear such a "beast."

"They say that there's a beast somewhere out there and that when it hunts, you could hear the sound of a bell jingle. It's as simple as that really." He explains casually with a chuckle in the end. Such a silly rumor.

"Kishishishi! Really now? A Jingle Beast?" Ruggie can't help but laugh at such an interesting folklore. "Some say it's just a Suan'ni. A mystical creature that has amazing abilities. Some were skeptical though, since Suan'ni's are practically extinct now." [Name] added, looking down at the ground where they sat. This caught their attention, even Leona as he opens one eye and glance over to the three of them.

Ruggie thought about it for a moment before nodding in response, his face became more serious. "I don’t blame them. In ancient times, the world used to be a very brutal world. Suan‘nies were hunted and killed by humans for their own profit and desires. It was cruel and not fair."

[Name] remain silent for a moment, thinking back on those times. "In my own option…" He began slowly.

"The last Suan'ni might have yearn to become a human… it yanked out all of its fur, filled down its claws, twisted its bones, and learn how to stand upright." [Name] explains in a soft and melancholy tone, his gaze never leaving the ground, his ears occasionally twitched as he says those words.

"Anyway…" He paused, adding with hesitant in his voice. "It.. never really became a human in the end.."

Pure silence. Nothing but pure silence follows after that.

Ruggie and Jack look at [Name] with widened eyes, heck, even Leona had gotten up, sitting upright and looking at the other with a dumbfounded expression. They immediately picked up on what the other is implying.

Of course the Suan'ni never became a human in the end... because at the end of the day.. it is still a Suan'ni.

Through out the centuries... animals evolved and that's how they could now stand on two feet, talk, and etc etc.

But what about those who are older? Before such evolution could even be achieve? Suppose...

[Name] had answer that question.

[cherie-doll]

hunter!könig x doe!reader

your eyes so big and observant as you wander in the forest, it's your first year being out alone, away from the other deer. with every step you take nimbly because you're not experienced yet with where you can be loud and where you can be quiet, you hope not to attract the attention of a predator. the encounter will surely be deadly, your long gracile legs not thick enough to run for long distances, your soft body that will easily tear between sharp teeth.

you wouldn't venture out too far, preferring to stay in a patch of grassy meadow, lying in the soft earth and smelling the dirt and enjoying the gentle blow of trees that fence it in. you can fall asleep here among the blooming buds of flowers in spring, but when fall comes and things start dying you're forced to give up the now toughened and dry grass in search of the creeks where life is sure to be a little more green. you don't know when you step over into the hunter's section but soon the air is contaminated with sharp sounds piercing your ears, you're bolting through unknown terrain. you're confused and scared and you don't even know where to run to. safety was unknown here.

you take grand leaps across the fallen corpses of animals on the hills, the sun already setting. you hear and smell the hounds nearby, who must already be close on your trail. you tumble and fall as your hooves dig into unknown terrain, it's hard to manage in the unknown.

your strength is dwindling; you can't go on. the darkness has taken over and you figure it's best to find someplace to hide. the cold wind shakes the leaves and trees, creating the most terrifying sounds that make you shudder down to your bones. you feel something watching you and you instinctively take to running.

you're veering off the path now, your lungs burning, heart thumping wildly, legs weakening. and you've fallen right into the trap. a bear trap clamps it's jaws on your hind leg. you're full of adrenaline still but the pain is awful, you panic more as the sticks and twigs snapping underneath heavy steps that are coming closer. pushing away branches is a big, heavy man that stares down at you from ahead. you pull but you're locked down to the ground and can only watch paralyzed in fear as he continues his way down to you. he's even bigger up close. you snort, blowing air through your nostrils but can't do anything to defend yourself.

when he gets close he moves slower which confuses you, his gaze isn't on your throat but on your injured leg and when he kneels before you he takes to pushing the springs down and the clamps easily fall open underneath his strength.

you can't move as his hands move up to your ears, you tremble as he moves his thumb and forefinger creating a pleasant and rippling effect on your body as he calms your nerves down. you feel strangely safe as he cradles you gently in his arms, picking you up and carrying you away. his clothes are smudged with blood when he puts you down in front of a warm fire, across his skin are scars etched. he empties the chambers of his gun and rifle if it stops your quivering and allows you to sleep more soundly. and he only stares, his gaze deepening as your body rises and falls in rhythm to your breaths.

the moon hangs in the black sky blanketed with stars. you pray he's good to you as you're in your most vulnerable state. you bury your head into the earth as you choose to ignore the screams of distress of the other woodland creatures who were too agile to step into a bear trap, but they couldn't avoid the bullet.

you choose to expose your bone and were shown mercy.

[i23kazu]

GENSHIN MEN & THE FIRST TIME YOU NOTICE HOW FATHERLY THEY ARE

characters. zhongli diluc kaeya childe neuvillette alhaitham x gn!reader genre. domestic romantic fluff. an. the men as fathers. this will be so ooc... don't mind me. im beg | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

zhongli

the first time you notice zhongli's fatherly tendencies, it's when you glimpse at him when he's taking care of xiao. his hands are delicate, gentle – moving nimbly with the agility of guizhong, his speech kind with the gentleness of madame ping. you watch as xiao tries to resist the constant touch zhongli gives him, your husband unrelenting as he ruffles the young adeptus' hair in return.

diluc

the first time you notice diluc's fatherly tendencies, it's when you see him converse with diona. the poor child's father had gone off to the city with a bottle in hand, and she had come home almost too early to see him off. diluc awkwardly sits beside her, the young kätzlein ranting so hard – he had to pat her back to soothe her, lest the fiery ball of cryo user burst into flames.

kaeya

the first time you notice kaeya's fatherly tendencies, you had joined the little ragtag group that ventured into the veluriyam mirage, kaeya holding your hand in one and holding tightly to klee's hand in the other hand. you watch as he comforts her teary frame quietly and with the confidence of the favonius lion, turns around to confront the arguing brothers.

childe

the first time you notice childe's fatherly tendencies, you sit on the couch, cuddled up to him while he lazily plays with teucer. the little boy whines for his big brother to get off the couch before he calls tonia, stomping his feet in a silent but petty tantrum. childe scoops the boy onto his lap and pokes his sides, leaving teucer in a fit of giggles.

neuvillette

the first time you notice neuvillette's fatherly tendencies, you and neuvillette had been on an evening stroll near the opera epiclesis. the melusines that skip by everyone all seem to light up when neuvillette smiles at them, leaning down to listen to their rants and chatter about their day before skipping off. he slips his hand in yours, murmuring something about how nice it would be to have children one day.

alhaitham

the first time you notice alhaitham's fatherly tendencies, you and alhaitham were walking through treasures street – the walk paused, when alhaitham glanced at a boy, no larger than five, knelt to the ground in tears. alhaitham sits on the ground next to the crying boy quietly, not saying anything ... just waiting for the boy to calm down and speak. he gently lets you know that you're welcome to explore while he takes care of the boy.

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiths @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @softcosmixs @m1shapanda @aimynx @smokipoki (send ask to be added to taglist)

reblogs w/ tags & comments appreciated !!!

[koiiiji]

weaknesses

tw ; ooc(?), nostalgia, can be both platonic and romantic

pairing ; gun x reader x goo

what was Goo Kim thinking while waiting for Samuel's call? he probably was reminiscing about distant memories, in details remembering a past life, when everything seemed a little simpler. when Goo knew everything about his friends, even their weaknesses.

Goo never sought out weaknesses in Gun; he believed that his own strength and talent would be enough to defeat his black-eyed opponent. however, there was one weakness of Gun's that Goo was aware of: Gun hated being tickled. it wasn't because he feared it or disliked being touched, but rather because Gun despised laughter. not the wild, maniacal laughter he would sometimes emit during fights, but the sincere, pure laughter that comes from the heart - whether it was at a friend's joke or warm memories from the past. Gun considered such laughter to be inappropriate, unprofessional, and entirely beneath him.

all of Gun’s pompous snobbery, however, would evaporate when your nimble fingers slipped to his ribs or neck and began tickling him mercilessly. of course, he could easily try to throw you off or toss you onto the bed, but in the brief moment of vulnerability while he was attempting to do so, you’d dig your fingers even deeper into his ribs, leaving him no chance of escape. Goo remembered clearly how Gun had once been human in those moments - cursing at you, almost begging you to stop, kicking away your fingers, and laughing like any other person. it was a sight to behold, seeing Gun so vulnerable, so... alive. the cold, hollow semblance that Gun had become over time - the hardened warrior who would never allow anyone to get close - wouldn't allow his girl-friend to straddle his hips and tickle him to death, expecting Goo to pull you off by grabbing you from behind and throwing both of you onto the bed next to Gun. but then your energy would be redirected at Goo instead, your fingers attacking with relentless enthusiasm. what a pity it was that you left your back exposed to your former opponent. seizing the opportunity as soon as he caught his breath, Gun would dig his fingers into your ribs and the crook of your neck and shoulders, launching a counterattack with surprising agility.

unfortunately for Gun, he struck a sensitive spot, and your elbow reflexively slammed into his chin, while your other hand accidentally hit Goo right in the groin. gasping in horror, you immediately rushed to apologize, seeing both men hissing in pain. Gun wasn’t truly hurt, but he acted out the scene convincingly, his face contorted in mock agony. you clasped his cheeks with your hands, apologizing non-stop and gently caressing the bruised area. hearing Goo’s pitiful groans behind you, you turned to him, wrapping your arms around him in an even greater effort to apologize. after all, a blow to the groin was much more painful, right?

“i'm so sorry, Goo! i didn’t mean to hit you there,” you pleaded, your voice full of concern as you lightly kissed his cheek. Goo winced, though a playful glint was already returning to his eyes. “yeah, well, next time try not to aim for vital areas, cupcake” he teased, his lips curling into a grin. Gun, who had recovered from his mock injury, chuckled softly.

you blushed, smiling sheepishly. “you both just need to be more careful around me,” you quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

the three of you eventually collapsed onto the bed, the energy from the playful tussle slowly fading. you lay nestled between them, one arm draped over Gun and the other resting on Goo’s chest. for a moment, the room was filled with a peaceful silence, broken only by the soft sounds of your breaths evening out after the laughter and exertion.

“when was the last time we had such a peaceful night?” you admitted quietly, staring up at the ceiling. “it feels... strange.”

“strange, but good,” Goo added, turning his head to look at you. “it’s nice to have these moments. just us... just peace.”

you smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment wash over you. “you know, it doesn’t always have to be about fighting and money. we can have more moments like this,” you suggested, your voice gentle.

Gun hesitated for a moment, his dark eyes searching yours. “i dont remember the last time i laugh like this...maybe it’s not so bad with you two.”

Goo smirked, nudging Gun playfully. “don’t get all sentimental on us now. we might start thinking you actually care.”

“maybe i do,” Gun replied, but this words never been said, as it was only his thoughts. yet with a rare, genuine smile, his hand finding yours and giving it a small squeeze.

you felt your heart swell at the sudden feeling of Gun’s huge palm and you reached out to take Goo's hand too. the three of you lay there, basking in the warmth of your connection, teetering on the edge of friendship and something deeper, something that didn’t need to be defined right now...

all the warmth and cuddly nostalgia dissolved with the sudden, annoying ringtone of the phone. Samuel had an answer from Gun.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Machinations of Melancholic Merriment

Mer!König is probably my main focus until the end of the month. I know this one is short, but it helps set up a few key points. Namely, The Spider Crab (tm). I'm sure you guys will like this little break from the misery that is König's overthinking. Also, it helps give them a little common ground.

Tws: Fluff

Wordcount: 1.4K

Art from This Post

Rest of the Story Below the Cut

Machinations of Melancholic Merriment

Step one of the plan was simple: Hunt. This was easy, right? Of course it was! You were absolutely able to take on prey large enough for König. It’s not like he was over double your size and weight. Sure, maybe he was the inspiration for myths and legends about krakens, but that didn’t mean he needed to eat that much, right? You could do this. You could. You really could.

You were a fucking idiot.

The one thing that you knew would be suitable for König that you had a miniscule chance of actually surviving was probably a spider crab. If you were smart, you could avoid the claws and go for the body. Of course, that relied on actually avoiding the claws. That was the difficult part. Spider crabs were surprisingly agile when they wanted to be, their limbs strangely able to reach in places you didn’t think they could. They had a longer reach than you expected and they were nimble enough to know how to catch someone trying to go for their blind spot. Their limbs articulated in all the wrong ways. Frankly, looking at them for too long disturbed you.

But it was worth it for König. You knew he’d be so proud of you, his little warrior. He’d be so happy to take you as a mate after you proved your hunting worth. There was no doubt about it. Maybe he’d even pat your head and tell you how good you were for him. Oh yes, you could get used to that.

Unfortunately, that depended on actually managing to nab a spider crab. How you were going to do that was a bit beyond you though. If you crushed it, then you’d ruin all the good meat. You didn’t want to expose the flesh and attract other predators either, lest you have to fight for what was rightfully König’s.

 Organising a hunt like this would be difficult. It wasn’t impossible though. It was just difficult. Terribly, terribly difficult. In all the worst ways possible. Really you were just talking yourself out of it by this point.

Why were you trying so hard anyways? König promised to take care of you no matter what. You didn’t need to be his mate for him to feed you or provide you a nice place to sleep. He never forced you into anything. He had every chance, every opportunity, and yet he still chose to keep you as a friend. But why did being a friend hurt?

You’d never even seen his face! How did you know you wanted to be his mate? He could be hideous for all you knew. His size was attractive, certainly, but it wasn’t like it was all you wanted. There was something more to him that you liked.

Maybe it was how calm he always was. He never got into a flap over anything. It was like he always knew he was somehow in control. In some ways he was, being the meanest monster in the deep by a longshot. He could be mean and cruel and vicious but he was none of those things. He was kind, gentle, and soft. He was as sweet as could be.

König could have made you sleep outside among the rocks, maybe build you a tiny little den to hide in, but instead he let you sleep in his room. At one point he’d even let you sleep with him in his den. Unfortunately, he’d been too ashamed after your massage a couple of weeks ago to let you close again. You’d make him take you back. If nothing else, he was so warm during the day, so cozy…

You were practically dozing off just thinking about sleeping with him. You missed the plush of his abdomen stretched over hard abs. His chest was the perfect pillow for your weary head. He was just perfect for you. You’d never slept better than when you rested on his chest. You’d fight tooth and nail just to get another chance to sleep with him.

Thus, this meant you’d fight a spider crab. Hunt. You were hunting a spider crab. This was not a battle between enemies on equal grounds, this was a predator culling their prey. It was just going to be a matter of strength to determine which of you would end up as the prey.

Dwelling would only get you so far. If you wanted to be König’s mate, you needed to take action.

“Ah, there you are!”

You turned to see König slowly raising up from the entrance of the nest, unfurling his arms and stretching out his muscles.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing out here?” König curled up to rest beside you on the rocks.

“I was just relaxing,” you said calmly, “it’s nice out here.”

König hummed and nodded, “It is. It’s peaceful here. The currents aren’t too strong and there isn’t so much traffic here. In fact, I don’t think many creatures know of this place at all.”

“You think so?” you said.

“If more creatures knew then they’d fight me for it,” König scowled, “it would be much more difficult to keep this place to myself. As it is, I think the only merfolk that know I’m here are the ones you met earlier.”

“Who, Horangi and Hutch?” you asked.

“And Roze and Nikto, remember?”

“Yeah I remember,” you nodded, “they were nice.”

“They wanted to eat you.”

“Not after you told them I was your guest,” you pointed out.

“Hm, maybe. I wouldn’t be too sure. It’s best to be careful,” König pinched your cheek fondly, “you’re too sweet to be out in these waters.”

You swatted his hand with a laugh, “I’d be fine. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“But you’re so…” König shook his head and laughed, “you’re so small! So tiny! I just can’t get over it. I don’t know how you managed to live down here in the first place.”

You grimaced, “I was hungry most of the time.”

“That’s why I’ve got to feed you so much!” König snorted, “you need to eat to be strong.”

“I feel like I’ve been getting better though,” you smiled as you looked down at yourself, “I’m looking more like what I did when I was closer to the surface.”

“So you did live near the surface,” König put his chin in his hands, “what’s it like up there?”

“Much warmer,” you replied, “and there’s more small prey. It’s easier to find a nice burrow and stay safe from predators.”

“Is it as pretty as they say?”

“Better, actually,” you smiled at the memories, “so many colours and sounds all the time. It was a lot, but it was exciting too. I liked having so much life around me all the time. It was nice.”

“Are there really more corals up there?”

“So so many,” you laughed, “I barely see any here. Up in the shallows there’s some at every corner. You can’t not find them. They’re everywhere. It’s beautiful.”

“Horangi brought me some corals from the surface,” König gestured towards this nest, “I like to use them as shelves to hold my treasures.”

“There’s so many more though,” you leaned back and looked up at the never ending darkness, “so much more.”

König looked up with you. You wondered briefly what he saw when he looked up. Had he ever seen the stars before? Did he know about the moon? Had he ever heard of the white and black gulls that swooped down from above?

“Hey König?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever been to the surface?”

König sighed sadly.

“I told myself I wouldn’t go that far until I found a mate,” he said quietly, “I didn’t want to be alone when I saw it all.”

“Why not?” you asked gently.

“Because I wanted to know if what I was seeing was real.”

You laid a hand over his and stroked the back of his palm, “I could take you there.”

König laughed bitterly, “No. You’re my guest. You’re not my mate.”

You flinched. His words stung deep inside. With four words he tore your heart from your chest like plucking a seashell off the beach, only to discard it moments later.

“Would you ever see me as a mate?”

You didn’t know if you wanted to hear the answer.

König was quiet. His lower arms curled anxiously and his tentacles clung close to his sides. Ever so quietly, so much so that even with your enhanced hearing it was barely more than a whisper, you heard him gently say, “That would be nice.”

And in an instant he was gone.

You looked back at the hole he’d ducked into and smiled.

Maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as you expected.

Konig Dump

Konig Alternate Universes

Mer!Konig Page

[cramathonn]

Hello! How are you? When you have time, could you please do a Seth x FoxThiren! GN reader please? I am so obsessed with this dude but there's almost no content about him. :( I love your work! 🫶💜💖

Ohoho, say less! I've also been super onto this lil' fella and GOSH I love him sm, there needs to be more reader content with him. Made reader specifically an Arctic fox because, hmmm white fur with white fur.

Headcanons under the cut, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: bigotry directed at reader, but besides that fluff!

Pronouns: none were used and reader can be viewed as any gender

Seth Lowell x FoxThiren!GN!Reader

So, foxes are know for being sneaky little tricksters and are often portrayed as great liars in media, which makes me think you'd work in the same sector as Jane;

However, you've known Seth since you two were kids, you were practically inseparable;

You two loved playing hide and seek together, Seth to train his vision and instincts better to become an amazing cop once he got older and you to train your camouflaging skills, to become a great spy for PubSec;

Yes, the two of you agreed to work for Pub. Sec. together like the true besties you were;

"Hey, Seth?" you asked, looking at the sky, clouds looking white and fluffy as always.

"Hmm?" he asked, turning his head to you. His ear flicked, eager to hear what you had to ask.

"When you become a cop, promise to not let it get to your head?"

Seth's eyes widened. He knew there were cops that turned into inconsequential idiots, believing they were above the law just because they worked to enforce it. The thiren understood your worry, but he couldn't help but feel a bit offended that you'd think he would turn out like that in the first place.

"I promise! I'd never turn out like that, and if I do, I know you'll be there to smack me across the face and bring me back to my senses!" he exclaimed, certainty in his words. After all, you were always there to snap him out of his negative daze.

You couldn't help but smile, finally turning your face to your friend.

"Then keep me in check as well. If I ever become scummy like that, you snap me right out of it!"

"Deal!"

The both of you were now turned to each other as you laid down in the grass of your local park, linking your pinky fingers to sediment the promise.

That memory played in Seth's head evey day whenever he looked at his ring finger on his right hand. It was his favorite memory, after all, making him giddy to this day;

You and Seth started dating right before each of you enroled in a training school to become a Pub Sec officer. Albeit going to different institutions, you always made time for each other;

Late night walks were a must for you two, enjoying the quiet and relaxing atmosphere. Finally having respite from the arduous training from prep school while your tails linked behind the both of you;

You also had study and training dates. You excelled in more textual exams while Seth prevailed in physical ones, so you agreed to help each other;

Now, don't get me wrong. You were the best at the academics and theoreticals, having almost fully memorized the laws of New Eridu. You were also nimble, the most agile and dexterous in your class. But you could never seem to be able to pass the physical resistance exams...;

Same for Seth, dude was the peak of endurance tests. He could run for minutes, almost hours without exhausting himself. He could lift heavy stuff easily, swam pretty well too, be whenever it came to agility or academics he was... Not the best. He has also memorized the laws of New Eridu, don't get me wrong, but he fell short in anything that didn't involve citing the law book or physical workouts;

When the two of you graduated, you applied to enter for the same district, not wanting to be too far away. Unlucky for you, however, being a member of the Criminal Behavior Specialist department means you get sent out to many undercover missions;

You obviously were not as great as Jane, considering she's done that almost her entire life, but you were pretty good at your job. You rarely ever got caught due to your mischievous nature and cautious habits. However, that never stopped Seth from worrying about you;

Whenever you were sent to missions, he would insist you sent a message whenever possible to at least let him know you were doing well. He often times personally requests to review your mission reports just to keep tabs on you (Qingyi reviews the reposts with him because she knows very well that boy AIN'T reviewing shit, he's just worried about his partner);

That doesn't mean you don't worry about him as well, however. When Seth gets called for a case of his own, be it in a team or solo (which rarely happens due to how dense he is), you always worry sick. Jane has caught your tail swishing in anxiety many times when that was the case;

But when you two get assigned to a job together? Hoo boy, you THRIVE! You keep an eye on Seth's back, stopping any sneak attacks, while your wonderful boyfriend blocks the heavy blows with his shield. Power couple at its finest;

Don't get me wrong tho, as much as both of you love your jobs, you get tired as well. Whenever you are not on missions and he isn't up late at the office doing his daily reports, you two can be found cuddling on the couch of your shared apartment, watching series or tapes Seth had brought back from Random Play with a snack you bought on the way back;

Talking about Random Play, Seth introduced you to the place and you were amazed by how good their movie stock was. You simply had to sign a family subscription with them (which Seth went red for, since you essentially just said out loud that you were a family);

And on the topic of family... FAMILY WEEKENDS! Seth has a tradition of always going to visit his parents on the weekends and you always go along;

If you're on good terms with your family, Seth agrees to alternating which parents' house you visit. One weekend you go visit his, while the next you go visit yours and so on so forth;

However, if you're not on speaking terms with your parents, then he won't force you to visit them like he does his, offering to always take you to his parents' instead. Seth is a very caring man and, while he insists on the importance of blood family, he is very much aware that not everyone has the same luck as him in having good parents;

Also, his parents love you, I'll just say that. When Seth announced he was dating you to them, they just went "Finally! We were waiting for the two of you to get together for ages!" which prompted a very red and embarrassed Seth and a very happy tail wag from you, albeit you tried (and failed) to keep your composure;

"Hey, have you heard?"

Seth's ears flicked, standing straight up as he caught the whispers of one of his fellow officers.

"Apparently a fox thiren got accepted to our district. Can you believe it?" the man whipered, disbelief in his voice.

"What?! I can't believe it... They're letting those sneaky types of thirens in now? Tsk..." Another whipered back, disdain and disgust tainting his words.

Seth's fingers curled in frustration, closing his fists. How dare they speak so illy of you when they don't even know you? Judging you merely because of a stereotype of your thiren species... And they have the courage to call themselves officers? The lynx thiren was about to get up and confront the two when he catches another voice joining in on the conversation.

"You two are aware that fox thirens have good hearing, no?"

It was your voice. And by the sounds of it, the two officers were caught off guard by your silent approach.

"Yes, us fox thirens are good at tricking and mischief... But that just means we're better at fetching criminals, no?"

You questioned them, the usual eagerness in your voice laced with a slight anger that went unnoticed.

For everyone but Seth.

"W-well, when you put it like that..."

One of the officers started. However, it didn't take long for Zhu Yuan to call them out, scolding them for judging their fellow officer merely by misconceptions and stereotypes. Seth smiled, tail gently swaying behind him as pride fueled his system. He knew he was in the right district. Having his captain aid in defending you made the lynx boy feel incredibly happy.

He knew how much judgement you went through during your prep school days. The nights when you returned to your shared apartment looking beaten up because some idiots had a brawl with you simply because of your species playing in his mind. Seth knew how hard you worked to get where you are today, and he is glad that he is not the only one ready to step up to defend your efforts.

I wasn't out of the ordinary for you to get weird looks in the street and in your office. After all, fox thirens were known for being liars and tricksters, how could one be a Public Security Officer? Well, much to your dismay, many still doubted your capabilities due to that. However, Seth made sure to not let that get to your head, always affirming that you were a much better officer than those that judged you, since no officer should judge by appearance, considering the exterior is often times misleading;

Being a couple of PubSec officers is not easy, your lives are constantly at risk and you often times come back with a couple of scratches and wounds, but neither of you would want it any other way. Life may be hectic, yes, but the two of you always managed to make do with what you had.

In the end, Seth loved you and that's all that matters to him. You share his dreams, his passions and help him improve as a person. Tldr: you're all he could ask for in a partner and more.

At night time, when you two are cuddled up in bed, Seth can't help but smile fondly at you. He can't understand how he got so lucky, but he won't complain. The lynx wraps his tail in yours and nuzzles the top of your head, happy to have you by his side and hoping it'll stay like that for years to come

Written by Cramathoon at 08:54am on 24/07/24 (24th of September of 2024)

Please don't repost!