meow meow

≽(•⩊ •マ≼ 25+┆any prns┆♥️

[qintten]

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

hi i'm MIA!!! ₍^. .^₎Ⳋ 25+, any prns

just another lads blog passing thru............. not a writing blog, not an art blog but a secret third thing (#syluskittenblog). bfy/more info under the cut!

my stuff:

#lads incorrect quotes #lads smaus #my art #my writing

buy me a coffee? (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) ‹𝟹

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

byf (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

i post about the other LIs ⟢ i may be a sylus main but i loveee talking/reading about the other LIs too nodnod including: poly lads and BL lads yayyy

i post NSFW ⟢ i wouldn't say my blog is NSFW, mostly you'll find me just yapping and shitposting, but i do reblog nsfw fics and art. if you're under 18, i don't mind you following me but pls don't interact with my nsfw posts

there may be some dark content ⟢ again, not the primary focus on my blog but you will see some fics/art of it (ᵕ ´ᗜ`) listen, if its all fictional i'm chill with most stuff. i simply follow the don't like, don't read, scroll away rule

filipino (jumpscare) ⟢ just putting this here so don't be jumpscared if you see tagalog on my posts sometimes (mostly will be english tho)

re: my stuff (˶˃ ∇ ˂˶)

the #stickers #emotes in my art tag are free to use for everyone! i post them as like gifs you can save, but let me know if you have any suggestions on where else to post them (for easier access)

credits appreciated but not needed, mainly because i wanted it to be used as like, stickers and it's not rly easy to credit those in every post LOL just don't claim it as your own art! 🫵

feel free to use my yaps/drabbles as inspo if you wanna write your own fic/smau of it!!! tag me so i can see (ㅅ´ ˘ `) but don't put it into AI pls smh

others („• ֊ •„)

i'd love to interact with everyone! i do have a 9-5 and my back hurts most days (scoliosis gang) so my replies may be slow </3 sorry! i try to reply to ppl as much as i can tho!!! ily

HUGE Sylus yume btw if you find yumeshipping/selfshipping cringe, well baby, welcome to Cringe City. (more info about my yume in a diff post someday. its WIP)

if you've read this far........... paws at you and runs away

[qintten]

lads ship chart template ━ ✧ ₊˚

wanna introduce your mc and your LI? ٩(>ᴗ<)و here's a cute little template you can use! 🌼note: i put two picture slots because lads has some variations that i wanna add |･ω･｀) (blobbu, ancient china, chibis, myths, etc) but you can put whatever in there LOL 🌼note 2: i changed it from yumeship to general ship chart if anyone wanted to use it for their other lads ship (ᵕ ´ ∇ ˋ ˶)

[pasteleraser]

The silver winged fiend 🤍

Had this drawing half finished for a while now and now decided to finish it😅

[qintten]

Why cant i post transparent pngs. what

[irandial]

LaDs Shorts:

Lemurian Remedy

Pairing: Rafayel x reader

Content: fluff, comfort, humor, established relationship, kisses, fever and loss of scent, cuddling, teasing, anxiety on Rafayel‘s side

Word count: ~800

Author‘s Note: based on this request and proof read by @dat-silvers-girl

Since I‘m sick I finally had an idea for this! Enjoy some comfort from our Fishie 💖

Masterlist

You startle awake as a strand of hair is gently tucked behind one of your ears. Exhausted and dizzy, you open your eyes, only to see Rafayel sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you with furrowed brows.

„You‘re still a little warm, Cutie. Not feeling better yet?“ His voice is low, filled with worry about your ill condition.

The flu has you in a tight grip, and after two days of passing out constantly and fighting the fever, you have still not recovered.

„I‘m calling a doctor if it doesn’t get better this afternoon.“ 

Weak, you grip his wrist that continued to free your face from sweaty, damp hair. „That’s not necessary, Rafayel. It‘s a normal flu. Just gimme the Ibuprofen and it will be fine.“ Your voice is nothing like it usually sounds, hoarse and barely audible. The fever has really taken a toll on your body.

Your boyfriend only sighs, a dramatic, heavy one that shows how much he disagrees with you. „If these don't help, I‘ll drive you to the hospital.“ His voice is firm, tolerating no dissent from you.

You gulp, but agree with a mere „Okay.“

Rafayel helps you sit upright against the massive headboard of his bed, that is now your shared one. He places some pillows behind your back and shoulders until you are able to sit comfortably.

„Let‘s see how high your fever is actually.“ He declares, and with a little sing-song in his voice „Open up~.“ The thermometer you know so well by now flies in the direction of your mouth, guided by a nimble artist hand, and you obediently part your lips.

Exactly 30 seconds later, the device beeps, and Rafayel gathers it back. „Hmm…“ He ponders for a second. „It went down. Good, good.“ And with less worry in his sunset eyes, he looks back at you with a small smile. 

Then he starts spooning up some of the soup that has been placed on the nightstand, steaming in a little blue bowl, which you only notice now. Even your nostrils are not working properly it seems, since you can‘t smell anything that wafts over. 

The hot spoon touches your lips with attentive carefulness as you hesitantly try some of the steaming liquid. But it tastes like water. 

Uh-oh, you are really ill if you don‘t even taste anything. But you swallow it regardless. Your doting boyfriend didn’t make this meal for nothing, and this is the least you can do for his efforts.

„Is it good?“ Rafayel asks with this shy little smile.

You try to grin back, but fail miserably. „I‘m sure it‘s exquisite. I can’t taste anything though.“

„Ah, that’s a bummer. But even if you don‘t have any taste buds working, you still need to have dinner.“ Saying so, he feeds you the soup until it‘s finished.

As result, a warm feeling spreads from your stomach throughout your whole body, and you slowly sink back under the covers.

A little rummaging from Rafayel later, and a heavy weight dips the mattress as he slips into the bed to lay next to you, and gathers you up in his arms.

„I can‘t stand to see you suffering and in pain.“ Then a gentle caress with his knuckles over your cheek. „Actually…“ A little mischievous grin appears on his lips „I think I have something to make you feel better.“ And with mirth glinting in his unique eyes, he places a kiss on your cheek, then your chin, and two more down your neck.

You giggle a little upon this „I don‘t think this has any medical relevance.“

Then a soft kiss on your lips. „Oh, didn‘t you know cutie? Lemurian kisses have secret healing magic. So you should get kisses from me a loooot.“ 

You hum, trying not to laugh as much „I see, I see. And Mr. Rafayel isn’t making stories up just to steal some of them.“ 

Then you‘re met with a little pout „You doubt my credibility? I‘m wounded.“

God, he‘s so cute. Even in your bedridden state, he tries to make you laugh. And with some teasing, you answer him „I‘m not going to pamper you when you are going to get sick from kissing me.“

Another kiss, lingering this time. A witness of his never ending hunger and greed for you. „Ruuude. Threatening the Sea God like this. Take this, my brazen bride.“ And you caress his cheeks as he continues to cover your face in little pecks that make you giggle again. 

„Silly Fish…“ You sigh, as he ends his 'punishment‘ with another slow and tender kiss on your parted lips.

Then he releases you, and snuggles comfortably against your back. „Please, be a good girl and rest, yeah? I‘m here if you need anything.“ 

Mention List: @homurasturtle - @ladyparamount - @deepspacenova - @shypotatoes013-blog - @thekingswin - @jean4life - @yourfriendlypyrovampire - @aliyahlovesgermanrap

[littlebommetje]

The intruder | part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Summary: a continuation of a cat hybrid!mc/reader x sylus story. After Sylus kills your owner in a business deal gone sideways, you follow him home without asking for permission. This part is a story about some of the consequences of that decision, and how you unintentionally returned to your human form. To be continued in part 4. 4,268 words.

Content: mass murder, sushi, eyeball licking, fluff and angst, Sylus having the time of his life.

And thus begins your life of fable—the dread dragon, feared by all, rumored to cannibalize his enemies and scorch the territories with flames and salt the fields of anyone who dares oppose him—now always appears in public within his empire with a little black cat on his arm, who lounges in his lap as he negotiates deals in the most exclusive night spots in the N109 zone.

The dread dragon, Mr. Qin, is known to always get what he wants.

But everyone knows black cats bring bad luck.

And so, at first, rivals and begrudging business associates assume he's lost his touch. Maybe gone a little soft, or daft.

So, like sharks circling chum in the water, failing to see the wicked hook in the bloody gloom, they begin to test their luck.

Previously reliable suppliers start 'misplacing' certain parts of shipments. The best parts. Rivals begin to edge in on the dread dragon's turf, causing ruckuses at businesses he is known to own—nightclubs, casinos, and a chain of cat cafes he recently acquired. They intimidate the employees, the nearby residents, offering better 'protection' than what the dragon can offer these days, what with his true colors showing as a frivolous peacock with a weakness for literal pussy.

After all, as quickly as a king can rise, a king can fall, they say.

Mr. Qin takes it all in stride, receiving the increasing reports of insulting chaos encroaching into his domain calmly, only tapping his finger against the kitchen counter as he lounges on a stool, idly watching you eat your weight in perfectly seared wagyu beef on a delicate plate of china.

"You gotta do something, boss-man," one of the magpies, the one with the scar—Kieran, says agitatedly one night. He's almost vibrating with indignation.

"We can take care of it. Just give us the word—we can have charges in every single one of the upstarts' bases within twenty-four hours," the other magpie, Luke, shifts from foot to foot, just as restless as his brother.

They're both clothed, now—all black ensembles, cargo pants with as many belts and buckles and pockets as Mr. Qin seems to have on his 'casual' outfits. Unfortunately, they've have never appeared before you naked since that first night.

"And just one detonator! One click and—" Kieran cries.

"Boom! Like the end of Fight Club!" they crow together, miming entire skyscrapers collapsing one by one, complete with sound effects.

"Only the film version,"Mr. Qin just sniffs disdainfully. "The film was completely unfaithful to the book."

"Not the point, boss! The point is, BOOM!" Luke's eyes are wide, like a little kid who thinks that if he just explains his genius plan to the grown-up slowly and loudly this time, the grown-up will eventually come around to seeing his genius vision.

Leaning forward, Mr. Qin rests both elbows on the counter. "Many bases these fools own are prime real estate. Destroying them would be a waste, when I can simply take over and lease the premises to tenants with a better sense of self-preservation than their current occupants."

The twins' shoulders slump in unison.

"However, I do have some small fish that need frying, so you're welcome to throw grenades into their ponds instead."

Immediately perking up, the magpies are so overjoyed that they'll get to blow anything up in the near future even if it's not as cool as Fight Club that they shift right out of their clothes, winging around the room in a flurry of chittering, dive-bombing Mr. Qin's head, and then zooming out of the kitchen when your back has arched enough to let them know that if they continue, there will be Consequences.

Luke had to lose a few feathers before they both understood that you mean business when it comes to protecting Mr. Qin's glorious hair.

"Did you eat your fill, Kitten?" Mr. Qin asks idly.

You answer with a satisfied purr, slinking over to him and rubbing your cheek and body along his arm and chest leaning over the counter.

Thoughtfully running a hand over your back, he scritches behind your ears. "Good. I hope your appetite is as endless as always, because it's time to kill two birds with one stone, and you're going to help me do it."

More food, and helping Mr. Qin?

A truly fabled life indeed.

Later that night, you find yourself in a familiar setting. To the average patron, it's a small place. So small that the waiting list for a reservation is known to stretch into years, and not just months. Just a few stools along a bar, a few small tables for two along the windows facing a quiet city street. The waiting list is so long because it has always been, essentially, one person operation. The art of sushi has been passed down for generations in the same family, with the parent training their child who then takes over the business and continues the family legacy. All they make is sushi, and they simply make the best sushi in the world. No wonder that the menu prices reflect such exquisite offerings.

However, to those in the know, beyond the tiny dining area, there is a back room. Larger than the dining room out front, but still small as far as rooms that serve its purpose typically are. Back here, there are no chairs.

The room itself, windowless, only narrow enough to contain the long table, still feels light, airy, with its blond wood-paneled walls lined with alcoves containing lovely vases and elegant flower arrangements. The effect is serene, a counterpoint to the blood soaked, high tension decisions that are made within its walls.

At the far end of the room, next to the door leading to the front and the kitchen, a beautifully carved liquor cabinet sits. The respective lackeys accompanying their bosses mix the drinks and serve —warm sake. Whiskey and soju. Bourbon and scotch. Serious drinks for supposedly serious people.

The clientele sit on cushions, shoes off, socked feet whispering across the tatami mat floor when they must move around to obsequiously pour their boss's drinks or discreetly hand them documents for review.

To enter this dining room, weapons must be surrendered at the door to the restaurant's only staff aside from the chef—the sous-chef, in training under her mother, this generation's current chef. This is a neutral location, after all, and all must walk in having surrendered their means of harm to others. That is the sacred rule of this hidden room, inviolate for years stretching back into memory.

Mr. Qin sits at the head of the long, low table. He has said nothing, simply nodding his head as the guests initially filed in and took their seats. He's relaxed as you curl into his lap, cradled between his crossed legs. The picture of indolent insouciance, his serenity sharply contrasts with the acrid stench of nervous fear wafting through the air from most of those seated around the table. All but one person reeks of guilt—not remorse, but the feeling of having done something that, if discovered, will warrant swift, horrifying punishment.

The sous-chef, tall and svelte, enters repeatedly, bringing in each round of sushi, carefully plated, one item at a time, to be savored in its individual glory before the next round is brought.

As the food arrives and empty plates depart, the guests share surface-level pleasantries, innocuous and polite.

All lies. Tigers wearing bow ties.

You don't pay attention to the particularities of meetings like this—they mean nothing to you, provided no one smells of violent hostility towards Mr. Qin. They can hate all they like. They can look all they like. And so long as Mr. Qin smells calm, you don't trouble yourself with his fleeting anger or amusement, with what's actually being said underneath the sheathed words.

As Mr. Qin's silence stretches, the discomfort in the room rises. But he waits, patiently, occasionally sipping some fizzy concoction that reeks of gin, as the people in the room grow increasingly restless. They desperately try to avoid staring as he hand-feeds you a portion of each priceless dish carefully prepared by the internationally-renowned chef, even as indignant disgust thickens their already foul scents.

After more than two hours of his silence, and as the meal is entering its final course, the sous-chef brings one of the highlights of the menu: fugu sashimi. Or, raw pufferfish.

A delicacy, and incredibly dangerous if prepared by inexpert hands due to the neurotoxin naturally occuring within it. You perk up, having heard of fugu before, back before, before, before…. you shake your head, ears flapping.

It's prized as such a delicacy not only because of its taste, but because the thrill of eating something so deadly often evokes a euphoric feeling in the one eating it. Some even report an aphrodisiac quality to their experience of consuming it.

As the sous-chef places the dish before Mr. Qin, you lean over to take a lick, but for once, his large hand slips between your nose and the fish.

"Not tonight, Kitten. I'll share fugu with you another time, under more convivial circumstances."

This gentle denial, given as if you're an actual person, is the final spark that ignites the simmering, resentful ire of the gathered guests.

"How much longer must we endure this grotesque display of poor manners before we get down to business?" One of the guests demands, loud and irritated. Many others grunt or nod in accord, finally brave now that someone else has drawn a target on his own back.

Mr. Qin simply hums, not taking his eyes off you. "Would you say that bringing an emotional support kitten to an establishment that allows them is less polite than say… theft or extortion from your valued business partners?"

The room goes quiet as the clink of chopsticks against plates and everyone's breath ceases.

Finally, the mutinous guest who was brave enough to initially complain clears his throat. "That is a serious allegation, Mr. Qin." He glances around the room, as if gathering support from his counterparts. "Do you have proof?"

"Proof, hmmm," your human, ruby eyes glinting in the low light, muses. "My kitten is all the proof I need."

"Ha, yes. We've all noticed lately how your… behavior, has changed recently. As if you've become more… distracted." The leader of the mutiny, though his confidence is growing with Mr. Qin's seemingly bizarre behavior untempered by shame or concern, remains cautious in choosing his words. The scent of fear, but also derision, intensifies.

"If I were distracted, you would be free to continue your unwise flirtation with my ire without consequence," Mr. Qin slips a thin slice of the fugu into his plush mouth. His subsequent noise of pleasure elicits a purr from your own throat, as you enjoy seeing him happy as much as experiencing your own happiness.

The leader of the mutiny has the audacity to roll his eyes. "You must be confused, if you think anyone at this table would dare cross you." His fear fades as his conviction that Mr. Qin has lost his marbles rises.

"Let's find out, then." Mr. Qin runs one long, elegant finger along the top of your head, down your spine. "Kitten, could you kindly indicate everyone at this table who is currently gambling with their life?"

The noises of disbelief, confusion, and disgust shatter the otherwise quiet room as you, without hesitation, rise to your paws, tail straight up in the air, and hop lightly on the table. Winding your way around and over the plates of each guest, you stop to sniff, growl, and then turn, showing your own asshole to every single asshole in this room who reeks of the scent of smug betrayal and lies.

When you stop before the one person who now smells of fascinated curiosity, the same one who hasn't smelled guilty since the beginning, you flick your tail in satisfaction and briefly nose her palm in respect, and then trot your way back to Mr. Qin's lap. He rewards you by lifting your small body into the air and nuzzling into your furry tummy. "Thank you, sweetheart."

The leader of the mutiny scrambles to his feet rather ungracefully from a cross-legged position, and seethes over the table. "This is absurd, and exactly why we can no longer trust your grip on the N109 zone. This dinner is over!"

He turns to leave, only to stop abruptly as he almost runs into the sous-chef. She stands, relaxed, legs spread a bit, one foot in front of the other. It's almost a boxer's stance, if not for the razor-thin sushi knife held, blade down, in her fist.

A knife-fighting stance.

"The meal is not quite over," she says calmly. "I must ask you to return to your seat."

The mutineer sneers as the rest of the patrons stiffen, reaching for holsters and knife sheathes out of instinct, only to remember that they're empty. "This place's neutral status is sacred. How dare you threaten us within its walls? We'll raze you to the ground if you don't stand down this instant."

The sous-chef remains unruffled. "Mr. Qin's house, Mr. Qin's rules."

The mutineer spins around, raising a finger to point at Mr. Qin, but stops, a confused look crossing his face. He lifts his fingers, now trembling, to his lips instead. As if they're already tingling as the puffer fish's neurotoxin surges through his veins. "What the fuck have you done?"

Mr. Qin ignores him, turning instead to the only person who hasn't double-crossed him in the room. "Please, continue. It would be a shame to leave this divine dish unsavored."

With wide eyes, she lifts her chopsticks and slips another slice of fugu into her mouth, as the mutineer drops to the tatami, unable to breathe another word. The remaining patrons begin to slump in turn, some straight backwards with quiet thumps, some sprawling forward onto the table, the cacophony of dishes clinking and drinks spilling rising into a crescendo until the only sound remaining is the quiet chewing of the person left alive at the table.

"Thank you for another lovely dinner, Rin-san," Mr. Qin nods to the sous-chef in appreciation. "My regards to your mother." She nods in turn and slips out of the room. Turning back to the final guest, he waves his hand. "Stay, if you'd like. But when you are done, spread the word of what happened here tonight. I'd rather focus on my Kitten, instead of fools, for the near future."

"Of course, Mr. Qin."

And that, was that.

Your days continue—nights, really, drifting along at the dread dragon's side. The unrest in his domain evaporates, so much steam from screaming kettles boiling empty into silence. Now, when business partners or rivals see the black cat on his arm, the only scent in the air is terror.

Everyone knows black cats bring bad luck, after all.

To them. Not to Mr. Qin.

Mr. Qin's house, Mr. Qin's rules, after all.

This makes you purr, eliciting an answering pleased rumble deep in Mr. Qin's chest. You don't question why, simply reveling in the satisfaction of enemies quivering in fear and your human's pleasure in their amenability to his desires.

One night, months later, Sylus lounges in his huge, standalone marble bathtub. It sits before a soaring window as the N109 zone's sky lightens almost imperceptibly, signaling the coming dawn that this rancid part of the world never sees.

You slink along the rounded edges of the tub, enjoying the challenge of not slipping from either side while still remaining as close to Mr. Qin as possible as he soaks in a place you will not follow, mo matter the depth of your devotion to him. He twirls a glass of wine from languid fingertips, steam rising from the warm water, rippling with every little movement of his powerful body.

"You could join me," he offers, offhandedly. He's not looking at you, instead gazing into the wine before taking a sip. In his scent, a deep interest belies his seeming indifference to any response from you. "If you wanted to change into… something more comfortable."

Continuing to glide along the smooth stone, you ignore him. No way you want to get wet. If you need to get clean, which you do not, thank you very much, as you are already pristine and perfect in every way at (least in terms of hygiene, even if not in temperament), that is what your tongue is for, not a death pool ready to drown you and make you look ridiculous with flattened fur if you do manage to escape.

"Shame." His gaze, which you are pointedly ignoring, is so heavy behind you that it slightly raises the fur along your spine. It remains on you for a beat before he sighs and casts it toward the window and the glittering city below. "Perhaps I am losing my mind, after all," he murmurs, but there is no conviction in this assertion in his scent. Whatever is puzzling him, he is sure he knows the truth of it.

More months pass. You don't know how long you've been with him. Only that he has never stopped showing you the kindness, the care, and the companionship that he offered you from that very first night.

Perhaps you should have seen it coming. Perhaps you should have run long before it was even a possibility.

But how could you know to run, if you didn't think it were possible?

One can't return to the past, after all. Time doesn't flow backwards, no matter how much you throw yourself against the bars of the cage.

What's done is done. Caleb is dead. And with Caleb, your old self died too.

You are a cat, with a dragon-like human who needs to be protected, and cherished, and adored, as he does for his cat.

That is all there is. That is all you need.

Mr. Qin reads aloud to you every dawn before bed, as the morning sun spills over everywhere that is not here, signaling his night, and yours as well.

Whatever he happens to be reading, he reads out loud, with his rimless, gold accented reading glasses glinting in the light of the lamp on the nightstand, some kind of stained glass, Tiffany-style thing, designed to look like a crimson flower with wicked points. His words are the lullubies to your dreamless, peaceful nights curled at his side. By the dawning of the night, you often wake, curled up on his chest instead.

One such night, you wake to find that he is already awake too, staring at you with calm, curious eyes. You have the strange sense that he has been awake for awhile, but for some reason has made no effort to move you aside all the while, no effort to get up and start his version of the day. You've trained him well.

It's as if he's waiting to see what you'll do, now that you're awake too.

You roll a little, crouching on your belly like you're on the hunt for a mouse and want to remain as low as possible. The corners of his full lips lift slightly, the interest sharpening in his ember-eyes. Creeping forward, you brush your nose against his.

He doesn't move, just continues to watch you. There is something about his eyes that is so maddening, if you look into them for too long. Especially his right eye, the same one that glowed so bright, almost blinding, when he took you to the mall. You haven't seen it glow like that since, but you have the urge, all at once to—

you surge forward, as if pouncing on a mouse, and lick his right eyeball.

Both his face and scent reveal shock, fading to surprise, and then amused disgust.

"I don't know what I expected," he laments, a low laugh rumbling through his chest and through your body still crouched on him.

He lifts you into his arms and swings out of bed, and thus your day begins.

That night, he reads The Traveling Cat Chronicles by Hiro Arikawa as you're falling asleep.

"As we count up the memories from one journey, we head off on another." His rich voice is a soothing bass rhythm as he reads. "Remembering those who went ahead. Remembering those who will follow after. And someday, we will meet all those people again, out beyond the horizon.”

The words melt into you, fusing into the marrow of your brittle bones, seeping into spidering fractures you hadn't realized were there. Somehow, these words are comforting. Deep lilac, shot with sunset orange and pink, fills your half-asleep consciousness. But for once, that strange mewling is nowhere to be heard.

All the while, Mr. Qin's voice cradles you, a steady vessel carrying you safely on an endless river free from memory as you drift into dreamless sleep.

The waking is easy.

The waking has been easy, for months now. Maybe over a year?

You don't know how long you've been with him.

You should have seen it coming.

The waking is easy.

Warmth. Smooth skin, soft silver fur under your cheek. Long legs, entwined with yours. Your body rises and falls with his breath as you're draped over his soft, firm, pillowy steel-muscled chest.

The waking is easy.

You should have seen it coming.

The past can't be undone, nor can a leopard change its spots.

A cat who is not only a cat can't stay a cat forever.

The waking is easy.

Red eyes meet yours, crinkling at the corners with such genuine, unguarded joy that they are briefly rendered unfamiliar to you. You've never seen him smile so fully.

"There you are, sweetheart."

You can only live your head, chin resting against his chest, gazing placidly at him, easy in your waking, not suspecting anything amiss. Yet his handsome face with its severe contours, his long nose and the regal profile—it all seems … smaller. Everything about him seems smaller, somehow.

He's still huge, but he's less… giant, somehow.

He's gorgeous, actually. He's gorgeous not just as a sculpture in a museum, but attractive in a way that is physically painful, not just in your chest from your heart squeezing in the face of such artistic, divine beauty, but painful everywhere. His bulk under the entire length of your body. The soft hair along his legs brushing along your own legs. His heart jack-hammering in his chest underneath yours, matching your own jack-rabbiting beat. His skin against yours, silk and electricity.

His skin against your skin.

Not your fur.

You should have seen it coming.

He lifts his hand and brushes his thumb along your cheek. "I knew you'd be magnificent, if I were right." His voice is soft, steeped in awe. "But I hadn't realized just how truly breathtaking reality would be."

You should be able to smell the truth of his words, not just hear it in his voice.

But your nose, the scents in it—muted, and yet more colorful. He still smells delicious, musk and sleep, warmth and citrus, clean sweat. But all the layers of his feelings—

You can't feel his feelings from the way he smells anymore. He's an opaque polaroid instead of a neon mural, and you can only fumble for the clues of his feelings by the crinkling of his eyes, the timbre of his voice, the slowly tightening lines of his full lips as his smile fades into concern.

His soft silver eyebrows draw together, the furrow between them deepening.

"Kitten," he says, cautious. "I'm still me."

You wonder why he's saying this until his other hand joins his first, both palms now cupping your cheeks.

"And you're still you."

Oh.

You're shaking. Rolling tremors, an earthquake under your skin.

He thumbs along the sensitive skin under your eyes soothingly. "Breathe with me." Taking a deep breath, expanding his big chest where its pressed under yours, he coaxes your breath from your body.

After all this time, under his shelter, in his care, sheltering him, caring for him—what can you do but follow where he leads?

He's still him.

Even if you don't know what you are, anymore.

"Mr. Qin," you croak, helpless. Your cheeks are hot, and wet. Moisture slicks the paths his thumbs take, back and forth. The air is thick with its salt.

The furrow between his brow fades, his lips curving in pleasure again. "Surely we're on a first-name basis by now, Kitten, what with you watching me bathe and piss for over a year, and now waking up naked in my bed. Call me Sylus."

You look down, see the truth in the swell of your chest pressed against his own, feel the truth in the silk sheets along your bare back and ass.

Of course. It's not like you can take your clothes with you when shifting from human to animal, animal to human . Any movies or games that depict such idiocy are just censored nonsense.

But that's unimportant. You frown back up at him, the inexplicable tears fading as indignation rises. "If you didn't want company while you were on the toilet, you should have locked the door, Sylus."

He blinks in shock, eyes widening ever so slightly, but recovers quickly. "It took you long enough, but oh, were you worth the wait," he laughs—hearty, breathless, excited.

You don't need his scent to know that he's delighted.

Thank you for reading! there will be a part four with you learning how to human (or trying) and Sylus courting his kitten. I'm having a great time writing this. I'd love to hear what you think in tags or comments! People asked to be tagged so I'm going to try to do that in the comments.

Also, please note that for dramatic effect, everyone was affected by the pufferfish neurotoxin at the same time. This is not realistic at all, so Rin-san convinced her mother to add a little extra 'seasoning' to the sashimi to ensure the dramatic end that Mr. Qin was aiming for. So don't come at me if you're some kind of marine biologist or pufferfish connoisseur. Or actually do, I love all feedback. Okay bye!

[qintten]

talking to someone about lads ships and they said they can't really see crowfish as a couple because sy and raffy are both too "rich and sassy" and i was like that's the charm!!! they're an untouchable power couple......... nodnod.................

[qintten]

mia's ych art raffle! ₍^ >⩊< ^₎Ⳋ

hello hello!!!!!! did you like these free headers i posted?

well to celebrate sylus's new solo banner (and 790 followers thank you! ><) i'm doing an art raffle to put your MC in this animation!!!

rules

5 winners will be picked at may 26 (gmt+8)

must be following me! no blank blogs pls 🙇

like and rb this post with a picture of your MC for an entry

to MCs who have a other designs (curly, multi color, etc) you can rb with a ref instead!!!!

you know how we do things here: all mcs welcomed!!!

important notes

artstyle will be simple and chibi like in the video. you can add one head accessory but it will be simplified!

this is for sylus's banner so it will be with sylus only!!!!

once i get the card, i will open 5 more slots so keep an eye out ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

my ko-fi here~

[qintten]

[CLOSED]

ROUND 1 WINNERS!!!! ✧｡◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜✧*｡ CONGRATS!!!! @cheerycherry99 @miscellaneous-misty @starry-seafoam @lostprincessofatlantica @maimaily

AND DW I'LL BE PICKING ROUND 2 WINNERS (same pool of names) WHEN I GET THE CARD!!!! (still grinding........ _(:3」∠)_)

ps: again tysm for the congratulations and love and support!!!! ily all i hope i can continue making more of these for everynyan

[qintten]

posting these this weekend btw!!!!!!◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

[erenophilic]

"Just tell me you don't love me anymore." Zayne freezes mid removing his shoes. His head turns slowly to your figure standing in the hallway, arms crossed and practically vibrating with something that looked perilously close to actual fury.

Did he forget something? What day is it?

He sets his shoe down carefully. "I'm sorry, love. Did I do something wrong?”

He reaches for you but you step back before he could. "Don't touch me."

He's confused. He ran through the day in his mind for possible mistakes he might have made, but couldn’t find any. He remembered waking up with you this morning, you had been in a perfectly good mood.

You even laughed at something over breakfast and nearly choked on your coffee, then he had dropped you at the hunter association on his way to work. You had stolen a couple of kisses before saying goodbye.

And today wasn't a special day he could have missed. Then what did he do? “Talk to me, darling. Tell me what I did wrong."

"Tell you what you did wrong? Do you even see what time it is?" His eyes snapped to the clock on the wall— 6 minutes past his usual time, he won't consider that late so he doesn't understand why.

"You never come home on time. You left me on seen for twenty minutes. You rearranged the mugs, why did you rearrange the mugs? And you.. you… you forgot to close the window yesterday, i was -”

"Did you eat today, love?"

"That's- no, I didn't because I was waiting for my husband to come home so we could eat together but apparently my husband has forgotten he has a wife waiting at home.”

Oh now he knows what’s wrong. He is already walking to the kitchen.

"Wow, are you ignoring me, Dr Zayne Li?” You follow him. "Very mature, very-"

He comes back with a slice of cake on a plate. You looked at it. "I'm not hungry."

He holds a bite out to you. "I said I'm not hungry" you said, but your stomach growled immediately after. Embarrassed, you took the bite to distract him from the sound.

You let him feed you, arms still crossed stubbornly while trying to maintain the pissed off look.

"Feeling better?"

"Mmmhm." You finish the last bite and your expression softens. "I'm sorry. You weren't even late."

"I know."

You look down. "I didn't eat lunch either."

He sets the plate aside and pulls you into him, tucking your face against his chest. "You could have just said you were hungry."

"You could have just come home on time.”

He presses a kiss on top of your head. "I'll be five minutes early tomorrow."

You rest your chin on his chest to look up at him. "Promise?"

"Promise.”

“I love you” you tuck your face back into his chest and pull him closer.

“I love you too.”

[myearts-uwu]

The Kiss

The Kiss by Gustav Klimt is one of my most favourite paintings ever. So of course I had to recreate it with my favourite myth from this game.

[starfall-xav]

Done, I need to go touch grass now ⚰️

[thewrldx]

zayne

takes your hand in his palm and warms it without saying anything

falls asleep while reading with you (and pretends he didnt)

wants you to sit on his lap when he's working

says "come here"

lets you hold his sleeve while walking. (thinks its the cutest thing ever)

loves when the sleeves of his clothes cover your hands

tell you to go to bed when you wake up after he comes home late, but you both just end up staying awake to watch the sunrise

gives temple kisses temple kisses temples kisses

shoves his fingers so deep inside you, stars bloom behind your eyes

talks you through taking his cock after he's been on a business trip for too long, and the stretch is intense

loves when you wear lingerie, ripping the material to expose the areas of you he wants to see instead of removing it completely

acts shy when receiving head, but after a minute or so into it, he's shoving your head down until your eyes water, telling you to relax your throat

is really horny all the time tbh

[snoozer-crow]

🐦‍⬛ i want sylus like this: wc: 550

you wake to a gentle hand on your shoulder, shaking you delicately to gain your attention, as if afraid of harming you. you ignore it, burying your face in your covers and hiding from the intrusive figure.

they're persistent, though, and they turn you over, keeping you from curling back up into your protective ball. you whine, but comply, seeing as the strength behind the hand was determined to keep you awake.

you crack your eyes open and are met with a pair of ruby-red ones staring back at you with concern. it's who you expected, though you're not disappointed. you're just tired.

you try to push his hand off your shoulder, and he moves it to cup your face instead, running his thumb underneath your eye socket. his eyes search yours, even though you can barely keep them open.

"sweetheart," sylus whispers, patient as always. you won't be able to push him away that easily, even if you'd do anything you could to go back to sleep right now. you've already wasted the whole day; what difference would it make to waste a little more?

he's more stubborn than you are, though. he taps your cheek when your eyes droop closed again, and you begrudgingly open them for him, knowing he's waiting for your attention. you don't want to waste his time.

"did you take your medication?" he asks, his voice still steady and calm. you shake your head no. he doesn't respond with frustration, simply nodding and pulling your pill organizer and a glass of water over with his evol.

he presses his hand to the center of your back, gently guiding you upwards, even though you whine in complaint. "i know, i know. just sit up for me and take these without choking, then we can take a nice, long break."

you begrudgingly comply, letting him feed you the pills a few at a time alongside sips of water. it doesn't take you long to finish them, and once you do, sylus rewards you with affectionate kisses all over your face. even if you try to complain a little, he knows you love them.

the pill container and glass are returned to their place with a swish of his evol, and he doesn't waste a second before climbing into bed beside you, smoothly pulling you into his secure, warm embrace as he does so.

by the time he's settled, you're all bundled up in his arms, enveloped in him in one of your favorite positions. chest to chest, his hand beneath your shirt to rub your back and press you just that little bit closer. you sniffle and nestle your head into the crook of his neck, hiding from his scrutinizing gaze. he lets you.

"i love you." his words are simple, yet they convey centuries worth of longing and adoration. "you can sleep all day if you'd like. just don't shut me out. let me sleep with you." his whispers brush against your shoulder as he presses a tender kiss there. "let me love you. that's all i ask, darling. let me remain in your life."

"okay," you whisper, and though your brain is foggy from sleep, you could swear he begins to purr. either way, your mind is soothed for the moment, and you drift back off to sleep, knowing you won't ever have to do so alone.

[pencintaapelll]

You wake up in the back of caleb’s trunk, wyd first? 🥀

Bonus

[starkissedxav]

xavier prefers physical things, tangible items he can hold and cherish

a/n: hi hiiii random xavier fluff because i love him hehe ,, i am guilty of hoarding every little thing i can get my hands on and have way too many receipts and random little things hidden in boxes under my bed .,,, oops!

masterlist

xavier has a collection of boxes he keeps hidden in his closet with memorabilia of his relationship with you, he continuously adds little things to it, going through them when he misses you a little extra or when the two of you argue.

he has a sticky note you gave him. in your messy handwriting you’d written ‘are u okay? u look sleepy’ he’d turned to you and smiled, catching you after the meeting and telling you he’d stayed up late binge watching a series (he heard you mentioning it to Tara so he watched it to have something to talk to you about)

there’s a pressed flower from the bouquet he got you when he asked you out, along with the receipt from the dinner he’d bought you that night. his face flushes everytime he sees the two items, embarrassed by the fact that when your lips connected for the first time that night, the streetlight you were standing under burst.

he has various movie tickets, some more faded than others from your weekly movie dates. even when you ordered the tickets online, xavier would buy an extra ticket without you knowing so he could have the stub. on the back of each ticket he would rate the movie out of ten and include your review (which almost always consisted of ‘that was so good!’).

there’s two birthday cards: one you’d given him at work that was signed by various coworkers in the association, and another you’d gave him on the elevator home. you’d written a love letter on the inside of the star-themed card. xavier’s hands shook slightly as he read the card, blinking quickly as you wrote everything you loved about him, heart pounding when he saw the way you’d signed your name.

yours always, y/n

he blushes every time he rereads the card.

he has a printed out picture of you posing with a cupcake, one he’d bought for your half birthday. his reason? “you’re too special to only be celebrated once a year.” he has the way your eyes softened etched in his brain.

there’s various polaroids in every box. the photos range from dates the two of you went on, candid pictures of you, poorly taken selfies and one very well hidden explicit one.

he remembers the way you laughed at him when he first showed you the polaroid camera.

“xavier the quality on those is so bad compared to the cameras we have now!” you placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“i like being able to have the pictures with me,” he explains, pointing the camera at you and smiling when you pose with a kissy face.

you’re quick to snatch the device from him, telling him to smile before snapping a photo. “this one’s mine!” you grinned.

you kept a polaroid of the two of you in your phone case, xavier kept one of you in his wallet and another in his phone case.

in a bag are a couple of whiskers, ones you’d found around your shared home from the cat you’d adopted together. besides that are tickets from the zoo and aquarium, coupled with more photos of you at each exhibit.

xavier smiles to himself as he continues to rummage through cards, letters, flowers and other items. finally his finger brush against the velvet box he was searching for, heart skipping a beat as he picks it out from the memories the two of you had made together.

he opens the box, the ring gleaming back at him as he smiles. he closes it quickly, puts the box in his pocket before setting everything back in its place. with a deep breath he stands up, smoothing out his outfit and heading out the door.

it’s time to make a lifetimes more worth of memories with you.

taglist: @hirayalia @violasepals @txtworlddom @mrs-lixiaqin @pjselee @luvyizhou

[erenophilic]

zayne x gn!reader, fluff, 0.6k wc, divider by @/miscellaneous-misty

God he's so vexing. He kept lecturing me about my sleeping schedule and screen time for twenty fucking minutes. Like I’m sorry Dr Zayne not everyone can have a boring life like yours where they work their ass off and sleep as soon as they reach home, some people like to binge watch and stay updated on the new trends. Ugh he's unbearable. Sometimes I wish I could just kiss that pretty mouth of his shut-

Is what you said after you thought you hung up his call. You in fact did not hang up and now moving cities is suddenly a very tempting idea.

The urge is especially strong when you're standing outside his office for your routine checkup, staring at his door for an embarrassingly long time.

And before you could even gather up the courage to open it, the door swings open on its own and Zayne himself stands before you. "You're here. I thought you were unwell for how long it took you to open the door.”

“How did you know I was outside?”

“You heels make a particular sound.”

He gestures for you to come inside “Oh. Ahem, okay.” You take your regular seat, folding your hands on your lap. It's alright. He's in a good mood. He probably didn't hear it. You are worrying over nothing. Just breathe.

"Vexing," he said, and your breathing halted.

He is looking directly at you. "That's what some people find me apparently." He opens your files, but his eyes never leave you. "Boring and unbearable" He turns the page with more force than needed. "Interesting choice of words, don't you think?.”

"I can explain-”

"You don't have to."

"No I really should because I didn't mean those words-”

"Didn't mean me to hear those words."

“No, Zayne, I don't actually think you're vexing or unbearable, well maybe I do but not in a bad way. I mean you're a doctor, it's your duty to look after your patients. But as a friend turned patient i’m sometimes frustrated you only talk about my health when there's plenty of normal things we can talk about like-” He's still looking at you impassively and your mind goes completely blank. "Like the weather." You hear yourself say it and wanted to bang your head against the wall but continued anyway, “Or the latest shows, which you would know about if you didn't spend your entire day in the hospital. Or food or literally anything that doesn't include nagging me or maybe… maybe we should also be discussing how you should respect people's privacy, friend or patient and hang up the call as soon as you're do-”

You didn't notice him leaning across the desk and you definitely didn't notice when his lips crashed onto yours before you could register it.

The contact of his lips lasted enough to stop the sentence dead in your throat. He pulled back, his face unperturbed except his ears which were bright red. "You talk too much," he said.

You stare at him. What the fuck did just happen? "You kissed me to shut me up?"

"I'm impressed it actually worked." He looks back down at your file like nothing happened. "Your blood pressure was high last visit. We should look into that."

"ZAYNE, you stupid man! Explain yourself!"

He was barely concealing his amused smile, all while avoiding your eyes by fixing them on your report. "Perhaps I find you rather vexing too.”

“Your pretty mouth especially," he added.

Yupp you need to move to another city. Soon.

[heartofafiend]

Day 31 - Dragon

And the May Drabble Challange is officially over... I already miss it! It was fun sitting down everyday after/before/during work to write something up! Cannot wait for the next one :D

It was way too early for any normal person to seek a tattoo consultation but you had a situation. A tattoo disaster that made you hide your back for over 2 months now. One that was made by someone you believed you could trust. 

Nervously biting your lips already looking how to explain yourself to the tattooist.

The moment he walked in you were staring, you knew you did. Eyes focusing on the strong arms covered in a dragon tattoo.

When your eyes met he smiled taking in the sheepish way you tensed. 

“You’re here for the cover job, sweetie?”