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"not all men–" you're right. telemachus of ithaca would never.
Discord QnA 5/13/2026 🌲Eden
Topic: The Eden Rewrite, Soft, Romantic, Anxious Eden
I was hesitant to ask about this, but was pleasantly surprised. 🥹I really can't wait for more Eden content.
maybe if he did, he would understand
Bleghh I’m so sick, I’m upset I haven’t been able to draw because of it but I totally locked in on this today and I’m super happy with the outcome
The Odyssey
memory
What's your ideal type?
Summary: What would be the best traits for their potential partner to have?
A/N: I didn't want to leave Lilia out of the series even though I only write platonic relationships with him, so I wrote about his ideal friend instead. Enjoy!
Characters: Diasomnia dorm (Malleus, Sebek, Silver) x GN!Reader (separate, romantic), Lilia and GN!Reader (platonic)
Other parts of the series: Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde
Warnings: none
By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.
-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
Malleus' ideal type would be...
Someone who playfully teases him. Malleus can be quite a tease himself, and enjoys seeing people squirm under his playful eyes. While he knows how it feels to be at the receiving end of that treatment thanks to Lilia, he'd still get surprised if you reciprocate.
Enjin, Tamsy, and August HCs
|| Warnings:
Tamsy is the longest and is a bit more explicit. AFAB Reader. Reader has boobs. Barely proofread...
Enjin.
After making him go out and buy pads, he money spreads them on his arm as an attempt to make you laugh, but ends up dropping all of them. Oh, yeah. He got the grandma ones… resulting in only being stared at as he slowly felt the timer on your scolding approach.
He unapologetically says something along the lines of, “Maybe I’ll head to the bar tonight…” to piss you off and will peek over his shoulder to see what kind of reaction is on your face, grinning ear to ear.
I know he himself said he doesn’t like anyone needy or overly dependent, but I feel like it’s to a degree, rather in general. It strokes his ego when you want him, but he doesn’t want to be there when you’re desperately needy for his attention every day. The man needs to breathe.
Is literally: “Babe… I hear the ice cream truck.” *sigh.* “Go get my purse.”
Is severely broke because he spends his money on nonsense. Of course it’s cigarettes, but he lowkey gambles it away after betting with Semiu and other Cleaners.
He definitely smells like cigarettes all the time, which lowkey covers up the sweat smell, but it’s also with a mixture of a Tom Ford dupe. I can’t imagine him having that “clean” smell consistently because of the kind of work he does, like c’mon.
Speaking of his job, he’d definitely try to kiss you and hug up on you after a mission… where he clearly smells like he needs to hug soap and water first. He won’t even be offended if you said he smells right to his face because the next thing you know is that you’re tossed over his shoulder as he dashes eagerly to the bathroom in his room. Definitely not because he’s using this as an opportunity for shower sex. No way–yes way.
He’s going to bite your ass. While distracted and lying on your stomach, his head will definitely be perched on your ass admiring the softness of the supple flesh, his cheek lying on it, mushed against his face. The next thing you know is you’re yelping and looking over your shoulder meeting eyes with vibrant yellow irises and teeth sinking into your skin, a grin decorated with his dimples and all.
He’s also going to slap your ass. Do not have an ass slapping contest with him because he will have your teeth chattering after taking it up a notch. Slap his ass first, and you’re gonna have to run around the room to dodge him. I can see him and you doing that stupid little run around a table in the Commons with both of you on opposite sides of each other. Enjin would love it because the minute you attempt to round it when he falses you into rounding it, he’s gonna actually jump over the table then snatch you up in his arms. Tossed over his shoulder, you’re gonna get a shamelessly loud slap on the ass with Enjin not caring at all who’s also there.
Okay. I’m sorry he feels like a tits kind of man. Ass is definitely a close second, literally just a 0.1 difference in preference, but the minute you start scolding him with your cleavage on display, it’s like the hypnosis spell is placed on him.
He hums and nods, giving the illusion of being fully immersed, but his eyes are trained on putting his face between your boobs while squeezing your ass. Yeah, he definitely motorboats you to be funny… also because your tits feel so soft, and you smell so good. Yup, he’s sinking his teeth there as well.
Obviously shallow as fuck, but I feel like he still likes curvier bodies. Something to grab and sink his hands into, along with that softness he can’t get enough of.
He can’t sleep with you near at times. Not because you’re a disturbance, but because it’s that silent, quiet moment where he’s serious and can’t help but stare at your peaceful face. He wants to commit every inch of your image to his memory; even if his dreams of your face are in clear quality it won’t ever be enough. He'll only be satisfied with the real deal.
The minute you suggest getting a tattoo in homage to him or just to complement his, he’s going to drop his cigarette with his mouth wide open. The next thing you know is that he’s grabbing you by the shoulders and spinning you around with your face smushed in his chest.
“You serious?! Serious serious?! That’s what I’m talking about–right now! We leavin’ right now!”
And boom you're off to a tattoo shop as hearts bounce around the excited man's head.
I feel like he can dance… this man probably has unmatched rhythm. Would he start twerking? Yes. Would he actually do it correctly? Yes, surprisingly.
Does not like pets. He’ll comfort and cuddle an animal, but in no way in hell is he gonna adopt one. He already has to take care of three kids… that he already doesn’t take care of. Semiu was right to call him a deadbeat.
He started dancing while you were having an argument to make you laugh and calm down, and you were so flabbergasted that it actually worked. He’ll only bust a move if the argument isn’t serious serious… like how he needs to stop leaving your toilet seat up when he visits your room.
If it’s regarding the state of your relationship, he’s gonna be the most serious he’s ever been since you two started dating. No smile, no dimples, no mirth in his eyes. What’s left are furrowed brows and a poker face as he drinks up every word and takes note to put anything you say into more consideration.
Eats your food when you’re distracted because, for some reason, even when your order the same exact thing, yours always taste one-hundred times better.
Asked to borrow one of Semiu’s porn mags, and it came back sticky. You physically had to hold her back and buy her a new edition while Enjin whistled as he walked away.
Tamsy.
He’s an extreme cuddle bug. He’s a cat; the kinda ones that are needy and need affection. His cheek will be pressed against yours while you finish writing a report, his chin will be plopped atop your head while you’re sitting and he’s standing behind you–he actually did start rubbing his face on you at one point.
Has he done something intentionally cute to get your attention? Yes. He’s tugging on your sleeve like a neglected cat when you’re busy with reading, and, in public, he’ll always be hovering around you. His oversized sleeves would unexpectedly appear in your peripheral then he’s suddenly hugging your waist while pressed against your back.
Will scratches under his chin make him melt? No. Okay, when you scratch behind his ear, it might work, and it will definitely work when you scratch his scalp.
He’s licked you when you were distracted. The moment you cover the moistened area with a hand and whip your head around, he’ll be standing there with that sweet, close-eyed smile and hands folded in his sleeves.
"Hmm? Oh, that." He approaches you and reveals his lithe fingers from those dwarfing sleeves. Rough fingers brush over your skin, the exact area of where his tongue affectionately rubbed. The male leans closer to your face, "Don't worry... I'll do it again."
His freak meter is off the charts. The minute his hair falls down his back, he quite literally has unleashed the freak. What do you mean he wants to eat cake off your naked body? You wanna do what while in the toilet stall?? Bro, I'm washing my hands.
He’s definitely suggested for you to walk around with Tokushin wrapped in shibari around your body, and he’d definitely make sure to twirl the strands of thread under his sleeves, marionetting, to make sure they rub certain areas raw. Joyfully will watch you hold back from cumming in public with how much his Jinki keeps rubbing against you. His typical smile will be present, but look a little closer, and he actually has a questionable twinkle in his eye when you suddenly double over.
It’s very hard to piss him off, but if you ever suggest dating someone else, the smile is noticeably more strained. Internal Tamsy, however, has his eyes bulging out of his skull while a vein actually pops. You? Date someone else? He might actually murder someone… well, again, rather than actually.
So don’t you ever suggest cuckolding or even say the person’s name. He’ll cover his mouth with his sleeve, feigning a thoughtful expression, but he’s really organizing how to properly throw a person away to the Trash Beasts with no witnesses.
He can’t sing for shit. A small humming melody? Oh, that’s fine. The minute you actually hear him work those cords, you’re either slapping your hands over your ears or over his mouth.
Which results in him looking you dead in the eyes with eyes crinkled into an amused expression… and a sudden wetness on your palm.
Oh, this man definitely bites your ass as well. It won’t be marked as many other areas, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe. He does it either just for the sake of it or to see your flustered reaction.
He likes sniffing you. This obsessive man has found comfort in anything relating to you, so his nose will be buried in your hair. The only time you’ll see him actually be weird and sniff your hair like it’s fumes he’ll get high off of is if it’s hair down Tamsy.
He wants you to wear his pajamas so you can be matching. Absolutely loves seeing his sleeves and shirt dwarf your frame, especially the sleeves. He’ll do the same in return, but he’d only wear your clothes in his or your quarters. The last thing he needs to hear is a gangle of teasing from Enjin and his adopted children.
Has a maniacal laugh. It’s more so giggly like he’s up to shit, which he is, and only emerges when he’s severely excited. Inner Tamsy will only laugh like that, however. He’s self-aware of how crazy he’ll look if he shows his true colors, but they still do slip with enough comforting presence–aka yours.
Accept all parts of how crazy and sadistic he is, and he’ll be extremely clingy while speaking about his day, cursing the people who are filth, saying there are people who actually need to die–all that. He grumbles about this while his head is on your thighs too, body curled around your form as he pushes his face into your tummy from how good you pet his head. He’s a cat, I’m telling you.
Loves quiet moments with you, and he’ll even pull you out of the bed to dance. Not as exuberant as Enjin–it’s more so slow dancing. His head would be resting atop yours as he sways you both side to side, hand on the small of your back while the other squeezes your own hand. The rickety, old radio would play as he basks in the music and warmth of your form.
He wants you to get piercings. He won’t force it, though, but it’ll be brought up in a conversation.
Pupil-less eyes scan your form as his fingers brush against the cool metal under his lip. His voice is tender, lightless, and nearly airy, while that familiar, welcoming smile graces his lips. “It would suit you. More than ever." Those same fingers ghost onto your skin and caress an area he finds to be too... empty. "You always love to touch mine, a few would look good on you as well, no?”
He smoked a cigarette and immediately hated that shit, so don’t add him to the rotation unless you’re gonna shotgun him. He’s immediately gonna try and kiss you while doing it though.
Speaking of kisses, he’s kissing you 24/7. Cheek, knuckles, forehead, hair. You actually need to give him his mandatory good morning and goodbye kisses or he’ll suspect the mission he’s going to do will be a disaster.
Don’t dodge his kisses. The moment you do, and keep doing it, he’s gonna stand there with a smile and make you squirm until you finally concede.
Does not like children. He hates loud noises. Even if he’s an expert at comforting people, though it's not genuine, the last thing he wants to deal with is a child crying.
The first crack you’ll ever see in his demeanor is if he ate something he thought he’d enjoy.
Briefly, his lip would actually curl, and he’d shove the plate away while quickly rewriting the expression of disgust with his famous customer service smile. “It’s a bit too… refined for my palate.” Meanwhile, internal Tamsy is tweaking, hoping he’d never come across a catfishing food item ever again.
He’ll wash away the nastiness with a drink, but if you’re there he lifts the menu to cover your face as he eagerly moves his lips against yours, the urgency a silent plea to chase away the lingering taste.
Coldest hands known to man. It’s why he loves to cuddle you; you’re so warm. Unfortunate for you though, your teeth actually chatter when his fingers roam your back–goosebumps rising as you flinch with an accusing expression. He’ll also take advantage of those cold hands when groping you, especially your chest. The callus fingers, combined with their freezing temperature, have you shying away from his touch as your nipples already hardened and stiffened.
Obsessive to the point where needing you all the time isn’t enough–he wants to live in your skin. He has an endless craving that’s only satiated when he’s buried inside you, cock hard while his hips are still, as his body overwhelms yours–bodies pressed tightly to where the word scant doesn’t exist. The yearning is so strong that he sometimes trembles while his arms are tightly wrapped around you. His hair would be the shield that separates you both from this sanctuary and the world as it covers every corner and inch of the bed.
He stands in the corner of the shower as he waits for the temperature to be just right, and don’t let him use your shower, or don’t shower after him, because the hot water has long turned ice cold with how long he takes to wash his hair.
He’s actually one for gossip. Not only is it more information about a person, but it’s also more information about the third party spreading said information. He enjoys learning about a person’s character in the meantime because he’ll know how to expertly navigate future situations.
August.
You know in the Big Hero 6 movie where Fred says the most nastiest thing about how he reuses his underwear? Yeah, he does that. Which confuses you even more because after seeing his discarded underwear on the floor, why is it literally spotless and pristine white?
He’s not much of a biter in the relationship, but he’s going to be popping out of nowhere and stealing you, so you could come back to his workshop.
If he sees you approaching the HQ while anticipating your arrival, he’s gonna put his mouth on the glass and fog it up as he eagerly waits for you to step inside. The minute he does, Semiu doesn’t even bother covering her ears as he screams about how much he misses you and how much you need to see his newest creations.
He definitely wants you to bond with Eishia when you have the time.
If he walks around the corner to see you and her speaking, he’ll quickly scramble to hide himself, then slowly peek out to eavesdrop. He’s gonna bite his lip to mask the overwhelming happiness at hearing you praise his little sister and telling her that she should have more courage in what she does, since she’s amazing. “Damn right she is!!” is what he has no choice but to scream in his head because he has no choice but to remain quiet if he wants to hear the conversation properly.
He does not play about you and Eishia.
The minute he hears about gossip regarding either of you, his usual smile will turn threatening as his voice becomes an actual normal volume, “I think I heard something. Can you say it again so I can hear it properly?”
People misuse “crash out” when they really mean “tweaking" because a crash out is a person who sees red and will actually need some kind of restraints to hold them down. August is always acting as if he’s on a perc, but he’s genuinely a crash-out kind of person the moment his suspicions are confirmed. Whoever started whatever rumor actually needed to be healed by Eishia because there was blood everywhere, and a proud August with red all over his body.
He’s another cuddle bug. He will literally jump into the air and land on you with arms wide open. Bonus points if you can carry him because now he’s hugging the front of your body with his arms around your neck and legs around your waist as you waddle back to his shop, his weight an obstacle you have to push through.
Caught him picking his nose while he was gleefully humming in thought, and he only grinned at seeing your appearance–no embarrassment whatsoever. Don't ask him about where he wipes those boggers.
Is very strong. To where it’s comical.
Nightmare in a blunt rotation because he’s gonna start yelling about who’s that in the corner and try to speak to that vacant space of air.
Does not smell good. It’s tolerable though, and uniquely him. He smells like sweat, wood, and leather. He’s gonna get mopey and will actually start crying on his hands and knees if you tell him he needs to shower first if he wants kisses and cuddles.
Somehow, with sitting his ass on a swivel chair for hours upon hours, is extremely flexible. He did a split in the air just to do it while excitedly rambling about what he has in store for repairing another Giver’s uniform. You know infamous The Grudge walk? Yeah, he actually ran towards someone like that while grinning and had people within his vicinity screaming for once.
His hair is not soft. Touch that shit, and it’s like barbed wire and split ends. He’ll be eager like a puppy when you suggest sharing your shampoo with him, and he already has his face buried in your stomach as he sits on his knees, grinning up at you. He reassures you about what he uses… what do you mean you use a 13 in 1 shampoo that can act as motor oil.
The best dancer at HQ. Enjin and August dance battle when.
Don’t ever have an argument with him because he’s actually gonna start ugly crying. Wrinkles bunched at his forehead, snot dribbling down to his lips, and his shades sliding down his nose to reveal torrents of tears leaking out of his eyes. It’s either that or he’ll listen attentively and will become quiet for once, mindful of his words and acknowledging every point you said. Do it at his workshop, and he will drop everything to make sure you and he are on good terms again.
Makes you tag along with him and Eishia on his way to his grandmother’s clinic. He was lowkey right about those cookies tasting awful–there’s a reason why Eishia wasn’t seen eating any when they were there.
Your underwear, specifically the thongs, kept going missing every time August came over, and when he stripped, there they were. Line nestled between his cheeks as he places his hands on his hips, grinning, “What!? Feels like I’m wearin’ nothing!”
He snores. Snot bubble and all. And he flails in his sleep, so he actually pushed you off the bed for once. The loud thump instantly woke him as the bubble popped, and he scrambled around to find you. Your groans on the floor alert him of your whereabouts, and he gets out of bed, apologizing while grinning as he picks you up.
The King of intimacy. He’ll massage your feet and shoulders if you complain about chronic pain, and he’ll definitely use oils because they're ones he stole from his grandma. He’s the grandson of a doctor; he definitely knows how to make a person relax and de-stress. You'd expect him to eat healthier food in that case, but he’s always hitting up the vending machine and has energy drinks plastered along the floors of his shop.
I think I found ur granny panties ft. Enjin, Follo, Rudo & Zanka
AN: they find your most secret possession.. your giant granny panties
CW: cursing, nsfw for enjin
To wake up beside him
୨୧ asking the gachiakuta men for a kiss
♡ featuring. enjin, zanka, tamsy, gris, jabber, follo
Enjin
He’s pacing, coiled tight, still annoyed by something you said earlier, giving you that sharp, silent treatment he thinks is subtle.
You tug lightly at his sleeve. “…Kiss ?” Just one tiny word.
He freezes. His head tilts toward you like you just punched the air out of his lungs. “…Seriously ?” he mutters, voice low, raw, but he’s already stepping closer. “You’re gonna ask me that. Right now.” You nod, small, shy.
His composure snaps — he grips your jaw gently, thumb brushing your cheek as he pulls you in with a frustrated exhale. “You’re impossible,” he whispers against your lips, moments before kissing you slow, deep, like he’s finally melting.
And just like that, the argument disappears. He can’t stay mad at you — not when you ask for him like that.
Zanka
He’s focused, meticulously cleaning his lovely assistaff for the fourth time, pretending he’s not ignoring you.
You whisper, barely audible over the faint shing of metal: “…Can I have a kiss ?”
Zanka drops the cloth like it burned him. His ears turn bright pink — his whole posture softens, instantly yielding. “I— yes. Of course. Come here.”
He steps toward you so carefully, as if he’s scared to do it wrong. He cups your face with gentle, warm hands, eyes flicking between your lips and your gaze, a visible struggle. His kiss is feather-light, almost shy, but you feel his breath tremble against your skin.
“…Sorry,” he murmurs, his voice a soft apology. “I didn’t mean to ignore you.” He kisses you again, just a bit firmer this time. He’s yours the moment you ask.
Tamsy
He’s sprawled across your bed, one arm tucked under his head, the other lazily draped over the blankets. Sunlight filters through the curtains, painting soft, sleepy patterns across the sheets.
You crawl in beside him, nudging his side gently. “Tamsy…?”
“You need something, my love ?” He shifts immediately, pulling you against him, his arms wrapping snugly and possessively around your waist. You lean closer, breath warm against his ear, whispering, “Kiss ?”
He freezes for a heartbeat, that familiar, utterly mischievous grin spreading slow across his face. “A kiss, hm? ”
His fingers brush your jaw lightly, tilting your face up to his. “Darling… you didn’t even need to ask.” The kiss is slow, soft, and teasing, a promise of more. When he pulls back, that smirk lingers, warm and playful, daring you to stay in his arms forever.
Gris
He’s just sitting there, legs slightly apart, hands resting open on his thighs, radiating a deep, unshakeable calm.
You step in front of him, a little hesitant, arms clasped behind your back, and whisper: “…Kiss me ?”
For a fraction of a second, his eyes widen — a flash of surprise — then a profound, soft smile spreads across his face. “Of course,” he says simply, his voice low but steady.
He reaches for you, guiding you gently between his legs, settling you comfortably on his lap. His hands rest on your hips, firm yet gentle, keeping you close. He leans in slowly, and when his lips meet yours, the kiss is deep, grounding, and absolute.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and he murmurs, a hint of amusement and awe in his voice: “You always know exactly how to get me, don’t you ?”
Jabber
He’s adjusting his rings, posture loose but restlessly energetic, that leftover fight-high buzzing under his skin.
You step close and murmur, “…Kiss ?” and his hands still instantly. His grin spreads slow, sharp, amused — like you just offered him something far more thrilling than simple affection.
He steps into your space, closing the gap, his thumb dragging sensually across your lower lip, deliberately smudging it as he studies your reaction. “Asking me like that… you really don’t know what you’re doing to me, dollface,” he murmurs, voice low and excited.
His kiss comes sudden and intense, holding back just enough not to overwhelm, just enough to make your pulse jump. When he pulls back, he brushes your lips with his thumb again, his smile tilting in predatory pleasure. “Do it again ma,” he says softly. “I like it.”
Follo
He’s in the middle of something, totally lost in his thoughts and humming under his breath as you poke his shoulder.
“Follo… kiss ?”
He blinks. Once. Twice. Then he beams, a sudden burst of sunlight. “A kiss ? For me ?”
He drops everything instantly — whatever he was holding clatters softly — and hugs you so tightly you lift off the ground for a second, a squeak escaping your lips. Then he gives you the softest, happiest kiss, his hands cupping your cheeks with pure, unadulterated affection. “I’ll never say no,” he says with a flushed, genuine smile. “You can interrupt me anytime.”
© dollysveil ♡
masterlist
⋆˚࿔ᯓ 𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬!
⤷ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬.ᐟ- the boys had been unusually clingy that day, all of them gathered around you in a rare moment where everyone’s guard fell at the same time. they adored being close to you—your warmth, your presence, the way you laughed when they teased each other. somewhere in that comfortable haze, one of them leaned down and gave a gentle, playful bite to your thigh, and the others followed with equally soft, harmless nips.
the moment they realized what they’d done, they froze.
all of them immediately apologized—tripping over their own words, faces warm with embarrassment. they explained that sometimes their affection comes out in impulsive ways, especially when they’re overwhelmed by how much they care for you. it wasn’t meant to hurt you or make you uncomfortable; it was just their strange, instinctive way of showing attachment.
you reassured them you were okay, and their tension eased as they promised to always ask next time—no surprises, no impulsive bites—only affection you want and welcome.
⤷ 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠.ᐟ- rudo ৴ enjin ৴ tamsy ৴ zanka ৴ corvus ৴ august ৴ gris ৴ follo ৴ fu ৴ zodyl ৴ jabber
(creds to that one girl who requested this, i accidentally deleted your prompt💔)
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ rudos surebrec (aged up!)
after a long day of beating trash beasts into dust, you and rudo were exhausted—sore, grimy, clothes torn in places—but the moment the door to your shared room clicked shut behind you, the tension drained from his shoulders.
he didn’t say anything at first. he never really had to. instead, he just pulled you toward the bed, letting himself fall onto it with a sigh before tugging you down beside him.
you barely had time to settle before he crawled into your space, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, arms sliding around your waist. rudo always cuddled like someone who’d been starved of warmth all his life—tight, quiet, precious.
you ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the soft strands fall through your hands. “today was crazy,” you started rambling, voice relaxed, “i swear those things are getting faster. and then enjin made me— well, actually, i don’t even know why he made me wait until he strikes first, but—”
you kept talking, hopping from topic to topic with no real structure. one minute about training, the next about a random bird you saw, then about how your shoelace kept coming untied.
rudo didn’t interrupt. he just listened, humming sometimes, letting your voice wash over him.
he shifted a little, head dipping lower until he rested it on your thigh. his arms tightened around your waist as if anchoring himself to you.
you kept talking—something about a snack you wanted to try later—when suddenly rudo’s grip flexed, fingers pressing into your side as he leaned down and gave your thigh a small bite.
“…rudo?” you paused, half laughing, half surprised, hand hovering above his head.vhe froze. then he slowly lifted his head, eyes wide, ears going red.
“s—sorry,” he muttered, voice lower than usual. “i didn’t— i mean, i didn’t think. it just… happened.” you laughed softly. “why’d you do it?”
rudo’s gaze darted away, jaw tightening before he finally confessed, “you… talk in this way that makes me feel calm. after everything today… i just… wanted to feel you. to know you’re here. sometimes i get this… urge.”
he swallowed hard, burying his face back against your stomach to hide how flustered he was. “not to hurt you—never that. just… to be close. biting feels… grounding.”
you gently ran your fingers through his hair again, smiling. “you can just say you wanted attention, you know.”
he groaned quietly, embarrassed. “…yeah. that too.” you tilted his chin up with your hand, meeting his eyes. “it didn’t hurt. you’re okay.”
rudo relaxed immediately, shoulders dropping as he settled back against you. he curled himself into you even tighter, mumbling against your thigh— “good… ’cause i really like being here. like this.”
you stroked his hair again, voice soft. “then stay.”
and he did—quiet, warm, content, wrapped around you as you kept talking about everything and nothing, his small bite already forgotten… except for the faint blush that lingered on his cheeks the rest of the night.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ enjin
you were both exhausted from the day, the kind of tired that sinks deep into your bones. once you made it back to your room, you didn’t even bother turning on the main light — the soft lamp by the bed was enough.
enjin didn’t say much as he tugged you down onto the mattress with him, one arm immediately curling around your waist. he always cuddled with purpose: steady, dependable, protective.
his black-painted nails traced slow, absentminded lines along your waist, following the shape of your body like he was memorizing it for the hundredth time. “you comfortable?” he asked quietly, voice low and calm against your ear.
you nodded, melting into him. “yeah. you?” “mm.” he pulled you even closer, chin brushing your forehead. “better now.”
you both lay there wrapped together, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt just to feel the warmth of his skin. he let out a soft breath at that, the rhythm of his touches slowing.
after a moment, he shifted, sliding down slightly so his head rested against your stomach. his hair brushed your skin as he settled, arms still snug around your waist.
you were in the middle of stroking through his hair when you felt it— a gentle little bite to your thigh.
your voice hitched. “enjin—!”
he lifted his head a little, and you saw it— the rare, soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips, the kind he only ever showed you. his shoulders actually shook with a quiet laugh, warm breath fanning against your skin.
“you okay?” he teased lightly, eyes half-lidded with amusement. you covered your face with both hands, heat rushing up your neck. “you can’t just— bite people out of nowhere!”
he rested his chin on your stomach, looking up at you with that calm, steady gaze that always seemed to cut straight through you. “you were talking,” he murmured. “and your voice was relaxing. i felt close to you. i just…”
his fingers slid up your side again, nails light against your skin. “…wanted a little more.” you swallowed, flustered and unable to stop smiling. “you could’ve just said that.”
enjin hummed. “i did.” “no, you bit me.” he let out another quiet laugh, deeper this time. “same thing.”
you smacked his shoulder lightly, but he only shifted closer, laying his head on your thigh now like it was his pillow. “i didn’t hurt you,” he said softly—almost a question, almost a reassurance.
“no,” you admitted, brushing your thumb over the curve of his ear. “just… surprised me.”
his eyes softened. “then let me stay here.”
and with his head warm against your thighs, his nails drawing gentle patterns on your waist, and that rare smile still lingering on his face, you let him.
enjin didn’t bite you again— but he didn’t stop laughing quietly to himself about your flustered reaction, either.
you were still warm from the first surprise bite, your thigh tingling where his teeth had brushed your skin. enjin, meanwhile, looked entirely too pleased with himself — his head resting comfortably on your stomach, his arms draped around your waist like he had zero intention of ever moving again.
his black-painted nails drew lazy circles on your hip, each touch slow and deliberate. “you’re still red,” he noted calmly, eyes half-lidded as he watched your face.
you groaned. “well, whose fault is that?”
he didn’t answer. instead, his lips twitched into that subtle little smile — the one that meant he was thinking something he definitely wasn’t going to tell you.
you tried to ignore it, threading your fingers into his hair again. “just relax. we’re cuddling. no more surprises.”
“…sure,” enjin said in a tone that was absolutely not reassuring.
before you could question it, he shifted just slightly — enough for you to feel his breath trail down the inside of your thigh. your heart jumped, breath catching.
“enjin— don’t—”
too late. another soft bite, even gentler than the first, but still enough to make your whole body jolt.
you slapped a hand over your mouth, a helpless noise slipping out anyway.
enjin laughed. actually laughed. a deep, quiet sound straight from his chest.
“you’re adorable,” he murmured, nuzzling the spot he’d just bitten. “i knew you’d react like that.”
you lightly smacked his shoulder. “you did that on purpose!”
he didn’t even pretend to deny it. “yes.”
“why?”
he rested his chin on your thigh, looking up at you with that maddeningly calm expression. “because you get flustered,” he said simply.
you covered your face, groaning into your hands. “you’re impossible…” “mm. but you’re still holding me,” he pointed out, slipping one arm tighter around your waist. “so i’m not too impossible.”
your heart fluttered embarrassingly hard. “don’t say things like that—”
“why not?” he asked, voice dropping to a warm murmur. “you look cute when you get shy.”
you squeaked — actually squeaked — and he let out another low laugh, clearly enjoying every second of your reaction.
but then he softened, leaning forward to kiss the spot he’d bitten, slow and gentle. “no more biting,” he whispered. “not unless you want me to.”
you peeked at him through your fingers, cheeks burning. “maybe… later,” you muttered.
enjin smiled — small, warm, and just for you. “i’ll hold you to that.” and he curled back into you, head nestled on your stomach again, one hand stroking your side as if nothing had happened.
except he was definitely hiding a smirk. and you were definitely still blushing.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ tamsy caines
tamsy had claimed his usual place stretched across your stomach, arms loosely wrapped around your waist as if he were afraid you’d drift away. his long blond hair — tied up but messy from the day — spilled over your skin while you absentmindedly ran your fingers through it, brushing the strands in slow, calming strokes.
he loved this. he loved you like this — gentle, warm, relaxed. his body molded into yours, every inhale syncing with your breathing as though your heartbeat steadied his.
but tonight… something was different.
his eyes kept sliding up toward you, lingering on your face, your mouth, your throat, and then drifting back down to where his head rested. each glance held a spark — not mischief, not playfulness — but something far more territorial, deep, and quietly needy.
“you’re staring at me again,” you murmured, nudging his cheek with your knuckles.
tamsy shrugged, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips gave him away. “can’t help it,” he said, voice low. “you’re too pretty.”
your cheeks warmed. “tamsy…”
but he wasn’t listening anymore — not really. he shifted lower, his breath brushing along your hip bone. his hands settled firmly on your sides, thumbs stroking circles against your skin as if he were preparing you, easing you into something he’d already decided on.
“what are you doing?” you asked, though your voice had already softened.
he didn’t respond with words. instead, he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to your hip. another to the tender spot just above your thigh. and then one more, dangerously close to where your breath caught in your throat.
“tamsy,” you whispered, half warning, half plea. “don’t you dare—”
a soft laugh vibrated against your skin. “oh, i’m going to.”
before you could shut your legs or squirm away, he opened his mouth and sank his teeth into your thigh — hard enough to mark, soft enough to make heat bloom under your skin instead of pain.
you gasped, hands flying to his hair. he kept you still with a firm grip on your hips, holding you steady while he made the mark exactly how he wanted it — deep, full, and impossible to hide.
when he finally pulled back, your thigh was already flushed with a darkening imprint of his teeth.
“tamsy!” you squeaked, covering the bite with your hand. “that’s— that’s huge!”
he only smiled up at you, satisfied, smug, absolutely unashamed.
“good,” he said. not teasing — serious.
you stared at him. “good?! what do you mean good?!” he rested his chin on your stomach, his fingers sliding over your marked thigh with a slow, possessive graze.
“i want everyone to see it,” he murmured. “to know you’re mine.”your breath hitched — not from the bite, but from the way he looked at you then.
soft eyes. soft voice. deadly serious.
“tamsy…” you whispered, flustered beyond belief. he lifted himself just enough to kiss your tummy, then your hip, then the edge of the bite mark he’d left.
“what?” he asked, feigning innocence. “it’s true. i don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. i want them to know you chose me.”
your heart thudded violently at his words.
he snuggled back down, head on your stomach like he hadn’t just claimed you in the most blatant way possible.
“besides,” he added, flicking your thigh playfully, “you blush like crazy when i mark you. it’s cute.”
you groaned and covered your face with your hands, heat rushing up your neck.
tamsy only laughed — low and warm — and pulled your hand away so he could lace his fingers with yours.
“too late now,” he whispered. “you’re mine… and i’m yours.”
and with that, he kissed the mark again, sealing it like a promise.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ zanka nijiku (aged up!)
paper was everywhere.
markers uncapped, coloring books spread across the floor, and you sitting cross-legged right in the middle of the chaos, looking way too proud of yourself for dragging zanka into this.
he sat beside you, legs stretched out, posture relaxed in that effortless way only he could manage. slender but toned arms resting over his knees, eyes occasionally flicking to your doodles with that calm, unreadable expression he always wore.
you nudged him with your shoulder. “color with me,” you demanded, offering him a random marker.
zanka blinked once. “…why?”
“because it’s cute,” you said simply, forcing the marker into his hand.
he sighed, but the faint curve at the corner of his mouth gave him away — he’d already lost this battle. so he sat there and dutifully colored inside the lines, matching your energy in his quiet, steady way.
eventually, you both sprawled out on the floor, taking a break. you stretched your legs out, leaning back on your hands as you rambled about absolutely nothing — colors, snacks, the shape you accidentally drew that looked like a potato.
zanka listened, as he always did, with soft, silent amusement dancing in his eyes.
then he looked at you. really looked at you. the way your shorts rode up just a bit. the way your thighs tightened when you stretched. the way you were completely unaware of the effect you had on him.
a thought flickered through his mind — a mischievous one. one he rarely acted on, but right now? he wanted to hear it. he wanted to hear that sound you always made when you were flustered.
your whine.
so before you even noticed him move, zanka shifted forward.
“zanka? what are you—” his hand slid along your thigh, steady, warm.
and then he leaned down and bit.
not hard — but firm enough to make your whole body jerk in surprise.
“z-zanka!!” you yelped, voice breaking into exactly the sound he wanted. he pulled back slowly, a calm smirk ghosting over his lips as he watched you clutch your thigh, face flushed and betrayed.
“you…” you whined, narrowing your eyes at him. “why did you do that?!”
zanka rested his elbow on his knee, chin in his hand, looking far too satisfied. “i wanted to hear you make that sound,” he said plainly, honesty as sharp as the bite.
your cheeks burned hotter. “you could’ve just asked!” another small huff of laughter escaped him — rare, soft, and genuine.
“no,” he replied, leaning back on his hands. “this was better.”
you grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. he caught it with one hand without even looking. and when you started whining again about how you were totally going to get him back, zanka’s smirk only deepened.
“go on,” he murmured. “i like it when you complain.”
it didn’t take long.
after the first bite, you scooted away from him dramatically, legs tucked up, glaring at him like he’d personally betrayed the entire foundation of your relationship.
zanka just sat there, calm as ever, marker still in hand, watching you with those steady eyes that gave nothing away—except the slight lift at the corner of his mouth that told you he was enjoying every second.
“don’t even think about doing that again,” you warned, pointing at him accusingly. “i’m not thinking about anything,” he said smoothly.
that was a lie.
you could see it in the way his gaze dipped, slow and deliberate, to your thighs. in the way his posture shifted just a little closer. in the way his fingers drummed once against the floor—restless, tempted.
“zanka,” you said, inching back even more. “i’m serious!”
he hummed. a soft, unimpressed sound. like your threat was cute, but not convincing.
“come here,” he said simply. “no.” “then i’ll come to you.”
you didn’t even have time to protest.
zanka moved with that quiet, controlled grace of his, leaning in before you could scramble away. his hands found your waist, grounding, steady, and he guided you back onto the soft pile of blankets and coloring pages beneath you.
“zanka— don’t—!”
your sentence turned into a squeak the moment his breath brushed your skin. you felt him smile against your thigh.
“i told you,” he murmured, voice low, calm, and annoyingly fond, “i like the way you sound when you whine.”
and then he bit you.
slower this time. more deliberate. teeth sinking just enough to make your whole body shiver.
“ah—! zanka!!” your hands shot to his shoulders, pushing, pulling— you weren’t even sure. all you knew was that heat spread up your neck, your breath got stuck somewhere between a scold and a laugh, and he was far too pleased with himself.
he pulled back, dark eyes lifting to meet yours. “…there it is,” he whispered, the slightest smirk tugging at his lips. “that’s the one.”
“you— you can’t just—!” you were so flustered you couldn’t finish a single sentence.
zanka reached up, thumb brushing the new mark blooming on your thigh. “i can,” he said calmly, “and i did.”
you covered your face with your hands, groaning. “you’re impossible.”
he leaned back, stretching out beside you on the floor, head resting on his arm. “and you’re dramatic,” he said. “but it’s fine.” your fingers peeked out from your face as you glared at him. “i’m not dramatic.”
he tapped your thigh—right where he bit you.
you yelped.
his smirk widened just slightly. “you are.”
“…i hate you,” you muttered.
“mm,” zanka hummed, settling comfortably beside you, “but you still come crawling back every time.”
you grumbled. he chuckled. and somehow, in the pile of coloring pages and blankets, you ended up curling into his side anyway.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ arkha corvus
the room was dim, warm, quiet — the kind of quiet that only existed when corvus let himself fully relax. you were curled into his chest, legs tangled with his, your head resting under his chin while he absentmindedly played with your hip and thigh.
after everything — the long day, the washing, the slow unwinding together — he felt heavy and warm around you, like a weighted blanket made of muscle, heat, and quiet affection.
you shifted slightly, and his hand followed the movement, sliding up and down the side of your thigh with slow, thoughtful strokes.
you didn’t notice the change at first. the way his fingers tightened. the way his breath deepened. the way his eyes followed the shape of your thigh like he was tracing every curve in his mind.
you only noticed when he spoke.
soft. low. certain.
“i want to leave a mark.”
your breath caught.
you knew corvus didn’t say things he didn’t mean. he was straightforward, steady, honest — every word weighed, considered, chosen.
you turned your head slightly. “a… mark?”
“mm.” his hand smoothed over your thigh again, thumb brushing the inside gently. “a little one. just for me.”
your face burned instantly. “w-why?” he leaned closer, lips brushing your shoulder before he answered.
“because i like knowing you’re mine,” he murmured. “and i like knowing people will see it.”
the words sent a shiver through you.
corvus wasn’t possessive in a loud way — he was possessive in a quiet, undeniable, certain way. the kind that felt like a promise, not a threat. the kind that wrapped around you like warmth instead of chains.
he shifted you carefully onto your back, moving with that patient strength he always used with you. he pulled your thigh over his hip, positioning himself between your legs, eyes never leaving yours.
“is this okay?” he asked softly, thumb rubbing small circles into your skin.
you nodded before your voice could catch. “yes…”
his gaze darkened just slightly — not hunger, not aggression, just… focus. attentive, deliberate focus entirely on you.
he lowered his head.
and kissed your thigh first.
slow. warm. like he was asking.
you felt his breath linger against your skin. felt his lips press again, firmer. felt his hand squeeze your hip, grounding you in place.
“corvus…” you whispered, breath trembling.
“i’ve got you,” he murmured.
and then slowly purposefully he bit.
his teeth sank into your thigh with perfect pressure — not sharp enough to hurt, but deep enough to make your body melt, deep enough to leave something that would bloom for hours, maybe days.
a breathy sound escaped you, and corvus exhaled against your skin, pleased, almost proud.
he held the bite for a moment before pulling back, kissing the mark he left.
his voice was quiet when he finally spoke again.
“there.” he brushed the bite gently with his thumb. “mine.”
your cheeks flushed so hard you couldn’t speak. you hid your face in your hands, and corvus chuckled — a deep, soft sound that vibrated through his chest and into you.
he lay back down and pulled you into him, one large hand returning to rest on your thigh, right over the mark he left.
“don’t hide,” he murmured into your hair. “i like seeing you flustered.”
you groaned and buried your face deeper into him, and corvus only laughed again, holding you tighter, proud of the warmth blooming under your skin.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ august stilza
you and august had been working for hours.
fabric everywhere. measuring tape dangling from his neck. pins stuck into a cushion on his wrist. half-finished cleaner uniforms draped over chairs like tired ghosts.
and august was complaining.
loudly.
“i swear if one more seam pops on me— I’M GONNA SCREAM—”
“you’re already screaming,” you muttered, stitching calmly.
“WELL I’M GONNA SCREAM LOUDER,” he snapped dramatically, throwing himself back in his chair.
eventually, the exhaustion caught up to both of you. he flopped onto the floor with a groan, arms spread wide like he’d just been slain by the workload.
“break,” he declared. “we’re taking a break. right now. i’m dying.”
you laughed and lay down beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. he didn’t even hesitate — august immediately pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and tucking you into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
the room went quiet. soft. comfortable.
you felt his chest rise and fall against you, his breath slowly evening out. his fingers idly brushed along your thigh, absentminded and warm, tracing little shapes into your skin.
and then he froze.
you didn’t notice at first. but august did. because a thought hit him like a truck.
a terrible thought. a loud thought.
a fun thought.
“…hey,” he whispered, voice suddenly mischievous. you side-eyed him. “what are you plotting?”
“NOTHING,” he lied immediately— loudly. too loudly. you narrowed your eyes, suspicious, but relaxed again.
that was your mistake. because august’s gaze was locked on your thigh.
and the next second— “wait— augus—!”
chomp.
you yelped, body jolting as he bit your thigh— not hard, but definitely enough to make you squeak in shock.
“AUGUST!!” he pulled back, grinning like he’d just won a championship belt.
“HAHA!! GOT YOU!!” he announced proudly, voice echoing through the entire workshop. you smacked his chest. “what is WRONG with you?!”
he dramatically clutched his heart. “i— i couldn’t help it!! YOU LOOKED BITEABLE!! your thighs were RIGHT THERE!! what was i supposed to do? IGNORE THEM?!”
“yes!!”
“ABSOLUTELY NOT,” he declared. you glared. he beamed. then he leaned in again, voice lowering to a playful whisper against your ear.
“besides… you made the cutest sound.” your face burned instantly, and august saw it. oh, he saw it.
“OH MY GOD— YOU’RE BLUSHING— THIS IS AMAZING— YOU’RE SO CUTE—”
“shut uuuup!” you groaned, burying your face in his chest.
august threw his head back laughing, arms wrapping tight around you as he rolled the two of you across the floor, uniforms and fabric scattering everywhere.
“worth it,” he said, loud and smug. “SO worth it.”
and when you peeked up at him again, he was still grinning like a fool— eyes warm, loud heart even warmer.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ gris rubion
it started with something stupid.
something so stupid that gris would deny it if anyone ever asked.
the two of you were supposed to be relaxing — a rare quiet evening in the living room, him seated on the couch while you lay sideways with your legs across his lap. he was flipping through a book, calm and steady as always, while you scrolled absently on your phone.
everything was peaceful.
until your foot twitched. and accidentally poked his side.
gris froze. you froze. neither of you said anything.
then it happened again.
“...was that on purpose?” gris asked, eyebrow lifting. “no!” you protested, but your voice cracked at the end.
gris was a well-built man in his early 30s — broad shoulders, strong arms, and a presence that made you feel small in all the best ways. but what he never admitted was how easily you amused him.
especially now, when your legs were stretched across him, close enough for him to feel every tiny movement.
“mm.” he hummed, unconvinced, and returned to his book.
you kicked him again. lightly. playfully.
gris slowly closed his book. you swallowed. “gris…?”
he didn’t answer.
instead, he wrapped one large hand around your ankle and dragged you closer — effortlessly, like you weighed nothing. you squeaked as your legs slid further onto his lap, your thigh ending up within his reach.
“you’re restless,” he said simply. “i’m not!” “you are.”
“gris, I—” and then he did the most unexpected thing.
his hand slid up your thigh—warm, slow, deliberate. “maybe this will keep you still,” he murmured.
before you could process what that meant, he leaned down and bit you.
right on the softest part of your thigh.
not hard— just enough pressure to make your breath catch and your whole body jolt. “g—gris!!” you squeaked, face instantly hot.
he exhaled against your skin, calm, unbothered, like he hadn’t just altered the atmosphere in the room entirely.
“mm,” he said quietly, brushing his thumb over the spot, “that worked.”
“y-you can’t just bite me because I kicked you!” “i can,” he said, tone firm but gentle. “and it stopped you.”
you glared at him, trying to ignore the way your heartbeat was pounding.
he glanced down at your thigh again, the faint mark already forming, and — annoyingly — a small smile tugged at his lips.
“you’re cute when you get flustered,” he added.
“i— that’s not fair—”
“you shouldn’t tease me then.”
you buried your face in your hands, groaning, and he rested a warm palm on your leg again, thumb rubbing slow circles right near the bite — like he wanted to remind you it was there.
gris reopened his book, casual as ever, while you melted beside him.
but every once in a while, his eyes drifted back to your thigh— and that tiny smile returned.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ follo tunito
it all started with him losing a battle against boredom.
you were minding your business on the bed, scrolling through your phone, enjoying the quiet, when follo suddenly marched into the room like a man whose life had been ruined by having nothing to do.
“i’m bored,” he declared dramatically, throwing himself onto the mattress beside you. you didn’t even look up. “hello to you too.” “no, you don’t get it.” he sprawled out like a starfish. “i’m, like, existentially bored.”
you snorted. “that sounds like a personal problem.” “it is,” he agreed, rolling onto his stomach. “fix it.”
before you could respond, he started doing that thing where he couldn’t stay still — kicking his feet, tapping the mattress, fidgeting with the blanket, poking your hip with one finger like a child begging for attention.
“what are you doing?” you asked, finally looking down at him. “dying,” he said flatly. “slowly.”
“follo, oh my god.”
he flopped again, face-first into your pillow, then dragged it to his chest and hugged it like the world’s saddest koala. after a moment, he peeked up at you with squinted eyes.
“you’re comfy,” he mumbled. “i’m literally sitting.” “exactly.”
before you could move away, he slid down the mattress with the dramatic flair of someone performing in a play only he knew about. he ended up half on your lap, half on your thigh, looking smug and very proud of himself.
“there,” he said, resting his cheek on your thigh. “much better.”
you felt him settle, arms loosely wrapping around your leg, like holding onto you anchored him. his breathing calmed. his eyelids drooped. for a moment, it was peaceful.
silence.
warmth.
soft breathing against your skin.
and then—
he smirked.
you didn’t see it, but you felt it — that shift in his mood like a spark going off behind his teeth. before you could question anything, he leaned down and bit your thigh.
not hard. but definitely enough to make you gasp and jump.
“follo!” he immediately burst into laughter, hands flying up to hold his stomach as he rolled onto his back.
“oh— oh my god— your noise— your FACE—” he laughed so hard he kicked his feet. you glared down at him, rubbing the spot he’d attacked. “you’re insane.”
still wheezing, he reached up, hooked an arm around your waist, and pulled himself back toward your thighs like a clingy cat.
“i know,” he said proudly. you sighed. “you think this is funny?” “no,” he said, then grinned, “i think it’s hilarious.”
you tried to push him off, but he clung onto your leg dramatically. “no. i live here now. this is my spot.”
“your spot?” “mmhm.” he nestled his cheek back against your thigh. “perfect pillow. warm. soft. reacts beautifully when bitten.”
“follo!”
he just smiled up at you with that mischievous glint in his eyes — the one that said he’d do it again just to hear you whine.
and honestly? he probably would.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ fu orostor (aged up!)
the evening had already melted into that soft, cozy quiet that only came after a long day. your room was dim, lit only by a warm lamp and the soft glow from the hallway. the air felt gentle, peaceful — the kind of peace fu never really got anywhere else.
he hovered by your bed at first, clutching the hem of his shirt, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
“y-you’re sure i can… lay down with you?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“yes, fu,” you laughed softly. “come here.”
he nodded stiffly, climbing onto the bed like a scared little rabbit. he lay down on his back first — stiff as a board — before slowly turning onto his side to face you. his eyes flicked up, meeting yours briefly before he immediately looked away, cheeks turning pink.
but then, without really thinking, he scooted closer. and closer. and closer— until his forehead bumped gently against your thigh.
he froze.
“…oh,” he squeaked. “i— sorry—” you ran your fingers through his messy hair, brushing it away from his face. “fu, it’s okay. you can relax.”
his whole body shivered. not in fear — but in the kind of relief that felt foreign to him. he cautiously rested his head against your thigh, letting out the smallest exhale, like he’d been holding his breath for years.
“it’s warm…” he mumbled, barely audible.
you kept playing with his hair, soft and steady. fu melted slowly into you like butter warming on a pan — shoulders dropping, breath evening out, lashes fluttering every time your fingers traced along his scalp.
you started talking about your day — random little things, tiny stories, silly thoughts. fu listened with a quiet kind of devotion, nodding gently, humming in agreement, eyes half-lidded from the comfort.
but every now and then… you’d catch him glancing at your thigh.
just tiny, quick, guilty little glances.
then he’d stare at the ceiling. then your face. then— back to your thigh.
you smiled quietly. “fu… what’s on your mind?”
he flinched so hard he nearly jumped off the bed. “n-nothing!! it’s nothing! i wasn’t— i didn’t—”
you raised your brow.
he froze.
“…okay it was something,” he admitted in a tiny voice, hiding half his face behind his hands. “but it’s embarrassing…”
“try me.” he curled in a little more, like a flustered shrimp, voice trembling through the smallest confession:
“i… um… wanted to… m-maybe…” he swallowed hard. “…bite you. a little.”
you blinked. he hid his face again. “i’m sorry…”
“you can,” you said gently. “if you want to.”
his whole body tensed, then relaxed, then tensed again — like his brain couldn’t decide if this was terrifying or the best moment of his life.
slowly, carefully, he lifted his head from your thigh and leaned in closer. his breath trembled as it brushed your skin.
and then— very softly, like something fragile—
he bit your thigh.
just a tiny pressure. barely anything. but full of how nervous and careful he always was with you.
the second he pulled back, his eyes went huge.
“i— i— i’m SO SORRY—!!” he yelped, sitting up straight, hands waving frantically. “i didn’t hurt you, right? i swear i didn’t mean it like— well i DID mean it— but i didn’t mean it to be bad— i—”
you cupped his cheek gently, smiling. “fu. i liked it.”
he froze like someone unplugged him. then collapsed forward, face burying into your thigh again — hiding in pure embarrassment.
“i did it because you’re warm…” he mumbled. “…and because i like being close to you… and because… um… it felt right. i’m sorry if that’s weird.”
“it’s not weird,” you whispered, stroking his hair again. “it’s cute.”
fu let out a tiny squeak — somewhere between a sigh and a whimper — and nuzzled himself closer against your leg, holding your thigh lightly with both hands like it was his anchor.
“o-okay… but um…” he peeked up at you with wide, soft eyes. “…you have to warn me if i ever do it too much. i don’t always think when i feel safe…”
you laughed, warm and gentle, as he practically melted into your lap again.
“don’t worry, fu. i’ll let you know.”
he settled, breathing slow and steady, clinging onto you like the safest place he’d ever found — cheeks still pink, but a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“okay… i trust you…” he whispered. “…so much.”
and he fell asleep like that — hugging your thigh, soft, warm, and completely smitten.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ zodyl typhon
zodyl wasn’t the type to show anger. not loudly, not outwardly.
his rage was the quiet kind — the kind that tightened his jaw, sharpened his stare, made the air feel colder around him. and tonight, he walked into his quarters with that exact storm simmering beneath his skin.
bad meeting. idiotic vandals. plans falling out of line.
he hated when things slipped from his control.
but he hated the feeling in his chest even more — that silent, hollow ache that only came when everything was too much.
when he opened the door, he found you already stretched out on his bed, resting on your side. you looked up instantly, sensing the tension that clung to him.
“zodyl?” you whispered softly.
he didn’t answer. he just shut the door behind him and crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps. his expression was unreadable — a blank mask, cold and composed… but the flicker in his eyes gave him away.
he needed you. not as a leader. not as a fighter. just… you.
you reached out a hand, inviting him closer without words.
zodyl exhaled quietly — the first sign of his guard slipping — and sat beside you on the bed. he didn’t speak, didn’t explain, didn’t ask. he simply leaned down, placing one hand beside your hip as his forehead came to rest against your thigh.
the cold man, the calculating leader… burying himself in your warmth.
you brushed your fingers through his hair, slow and careful.
his eyes fluttered shut. “rough day?” you whispered. “…yes.” the word was low, almost gravelly. “i don’t want to talk about it.”
“okay,” you murmured. “you don’t have to.”
that’s why he came to you. no pressure. no demands. just peace.
your touch kept moving through his hair, smoothing the tension out of him piece by piece. his breathing steadied. his shoulders lowered. his hand slid lightly onto your thigh, holding you there — grounding himself.
and then… without lifting his head, without warning—
he bit your thigh.
slow, firm, controlled — not painful, but undeniably deliberate.
your breath caught softly. “zodyl—”
he didn’t apologize. he didn’t look up. he didn’t even flinch.
his lips brushed over the spot afterward, an almost-kiss, before he spoke against your skin in a low, steady voice:
“i needed to feel something warm.”
another small bite — gentler this time, almost like he was testing the edge of affection. “i needed…” he paused, breath fanning against your skin, “you.”
your cheeks warmed, but your fingers kept combing through his hair, soothing him wordlessly.
zodyl shifted slightly, tracing his thumb along your thigh where his teeth had touched. he wasn’t a man of emotion, but right now, the way he held you gave him away completely.
you grounded him. you calmed him. you brought him back from the cold.
after a quiet moment, he finally lifted his head enough to look at you — eyes sharp, tired, and softened only for you.
“don’t ask me why,” he murmured. “i won’t have an answer.” you smiled faintly. “you don’t need one.”
zodyl leaned back down, resting against your thigh again — this time without anger in his body, only a quiet need for closeness he’d never admit out loud.
“…thank you,” he whispered into your skin, so soft you almost missed it.
and he stayed there, finding comfort the only way he knew how — wrapped in your warmth, teeth marks on your thigh, heart steadying in your presence.
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ jabber wonger
jabber didn’t walk into the room — he burst in, like he always did, grinning wide like he was made of static and adrenaline.
“oiiiii, girl,” he drawled, voice already too loud, too excited, “you alive in here or do i gotta kick the door again?”
you were lying across your bed, flipping through a book, perfectly peaceful. that lasted about two seconds.
jabber saw you. peaceful. tilted his head like a deranged bird.
and then—
“mmh—” he dropped onto the mattress beside you like a boulder, sprawling across your legs with zero warning. “there you are.”
you sighed. “jabber— you’re heavy—”
“i KNOW!” he giggled, sounding thrilled. “that’s the point!” before you could shove him off, he rolled onto his stomach, chin propped on your thigh like it was a pillow sent from the heavens directly to him.
his grin slowly widened.
“y’know…” he hummed, poking your thigh with a gloved finger, “you shouldn’t just leave these little thighs out in the open like this. i get ideas.”
“jabber. behave.”
“oh i don’t DO that,” he laughed.
and he didn’t. not even for a second.
he dragged his fingertip down your thigh, eyes glinting with that sick excitement he lived on.
“mm, soft,” he murmured, practically purring. “don’t look at me like that. you KNOW what this does.” you stared flatly. “jabber, don’t—”
too late.
he lunged.
his hands gripped your hips like he had to anchor himself, and he sank his teeth into your thigh with all the enthusiasm of a kid biting cotton candy for the first time.
“jabber!!” you yelped, grabbing his shoulder.
he just laughed against your skin, the sound unhinged and way too pleased, lifting his head only to press another bite a little closer to your inner thigh—still gentle enough not to hurt, but definitely enough to make your breath skip.
“hahaha— oh you should SEE your face,” he cackled, licking his teeth like a psycho. “c’mon, girl, you KNOW i like when you get all twitchy like that.” you smacked his arm. “you can’t just BITE ME because you feel like it!”
“i can and i DID,” jabber said proudly. he leaned back in, nosing along your thigh, grin stretching ear to ear.
“you smell good when you’re mad,” he whispered, voice dipping into something husky and chaotic. “makes me wanna make you madder.”
“jabber—”
“mhm?”
“stop.”
he paused. blinked. then grinned wider.
“no.”
and he sank his teeth in again, slower this time, purposely teasing, holding your thigh steady with both hands like you’d run away if he let go.
“jabberrrr—!”
“mm-hmm?” he hummed against your skin, kissing the spot he just bit like he was rewarding himself.
he looked up at you, eyes wild, hair messy, grin sharp. “girl,” he said, voice low but buzzing with excitement, “you have NO idea how crazy you make me.”
another kiss. another bite. another laugh.
“and i’m not stoppin’ anytime soon.”
「©valentinesxoxo˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚ 」
Rudo as your baby — sfw, fluff.
★ Rudo had never known a mother's affection—there had never been a feminine presence in his life. He was raised solely by his adoptive father, and after losing him, he was cast out into the surface world. You, Enjin's girlfriend and a Giver, were on patrol with him when you spotted the boy amidst the rubble. You never expected your feelings for him to grow so strong once you started supervising him.
"Can we keep him?"
"He'll have to join the Cleaners soon. The kid's got talent," Enjin replied, leaning his arms on the balcony railing before bringing the cigarette to his lips.
"No... not like that."
"I'm not following you, woman," he said, raising an eyebrow. "You wanna adopt him, is that it?"
DOL isn’t hard enough, what this game needs is a menstruation cycle mechanic. We maintain our PC’s monthly needs and it honestly serves as another way to determine if PC got pregnant. There will be situations where missing a cycle is due to high stress or other health related factors.
● To make things more jarring, make pads or tampons pricey (perhaps if worked as an assistant the hospital, you get a medical discount). I can see Bailey NOT wanting the beds to get stained so maybe he keeps a stock underhand but of course will charge you. If you got a decent relationship with Harper or Sirris you can approach them on acquiring some products.
● And before anyone asks: “But wouldn’t period sex be gross?” You’re telling me the freaks in this town WOULDN’T have a blood fetish? 🤨
But at the same time, I think it would be great if there is a % chance of a NPC being grossed out by blood and leaving the PC alone.
● Ovulation is part of the monthly cycle so those who DO want to get pregnant get an opportunity
● Biological men are not safe from this (we honor equality under this roof). If your PC cross dresses then you got a % chance on gaining ovaries once a blood moon passes 😘
● The hospital can offer ovary removal surgery for anyone who gets tired of dealing with it.
Shhh, he's sleeping somewhere at the end of time