you know what

"Stop doing what?"

"The thing with your shirt." He caught the ball one final time and sat up, looking directly at you so plainly honest it almost felt rude. "You keep pulling at it. You've been doing it ever since you got on board."

Heat flooded your face. "It rides up."

"Okay--so let it ride up then if that's how it wants to fit."

"Caelus--"

"I'm serious." He swung his legs to the floor, elbows on his knees, leaning toward you. "You know what I see when your shirt rides up? You, that's what I see. You keep trying to hide yourself even though I like every single bit of you."

You stopped breathing.

He kept going. "Your thighs? Incredible. Your arms? I think about your arms... kind of a weird amount actually. And your stomach--okay, I know you hate your stomach, you told me once and I've been mad about it ever since--but I love it. I love how you look. All of it. Not in spite of anything. Just... I don't know, all of it."

The tears hit before you could form a single word.

His face went from earnest to panicked in a heartbeat. "Wait--no, that was supposed to be a good thing, I was trying to--"

"It is a good thing," you choked out, pressing both hands over your mouth because your whole face was crumpling. "You can't just say stuff like that."

"Um I can and I will? Frequently? Starting now and continuing forever?--I mean you said is was a good thing sooo not seeing the problem now."

You laughed through a sob and he crossed over and pulled you against his chest, arms folding around you completely, chin on top of your head.

"Every bit," he repeated against your hair. "No exceptions."

Your hands fisted in the back of his jacket and in that moment, you believed him.

Dan Heng

You didn't realize he was watching.

You stepped out of the shower and caught yourself in the narrow mirror of the Express bathroom, still dripping. And you done what you always did, turned sideways, sucked in, looked at every place you felt that your body curved too far or took up too much space, pinched your hip, pressed a hand flat against your belly and frowned.

The door was open a crack. You hadn't noticed.

Dan Heng didn't bring it up right away. That wasn't how he worked. He waited until the had enough context, and then mulled over his words carefully before expressing them.

It came three days later on the observation deck, his shoulder near yours in the dark.

"You hold yourself like an apology," he said.

You blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"The way you stand. The way you sit. You fold inward, make yourself smaller." A pause. "...You don't need to do that."

"Dan Heng, I--"

"I've read about this. The way one's body image can affect their view of themselves..." His voice stayed low, controlled, but something underneath it pressed against the edges. "While I know my words won't change this... You should know that I find nothing about your body that requires correction. Your shape, your frame, the way you feel when I--" He stopped. Reset. "I notice you. More than I'm comfortable admitting. And everything I notice, I've wanted ever since."

The air between you went very still.

"You can't mean that," you whispered.

His head turned and his eyes found your in the dark and the look in them was so utterly certain, that your chest caved in.

"I don't say things I'm unprepared to stand behind." he stated plainly.

The first tear fell and you looked away fast, jaw tight, trying to swallow the whole thing back down. His hand found your wrist. Not pulling. Just circling it, thumb against your pulse.

"Don't turn away from me," he said quietly. "Not for this."

You broke. A sound tore out of you that you'd been holding for years.

He drew you into him and pressed his mouth to your temple, letting yourself go through the motions until your breathing finally settled.

Welt Yang

He was sketching.

You grew used to him drawing at odd hours, pencil moving in that patient, deliberate way of his. He sketched the Express. He sketched planets from the window. He sketched Stelle mid-argument and March pretending not to pose.

You hadn't realized he was sketching you until the page fell open on the parlor table while he was making tea.

It was your profile from three nights ago. You were reading, legs tucked beneath you on the bench, one arm resting across your middle. He drew every curve with an incredible amount of care. The roundness of your cheek. The line where your thigh pressed full against the cushion. The place where your shirt gathered at your waist.

Nothing hidden. Nothing minimized.

"Welt." Your voice came out strange. "Why did you--"

He set down two cups and looked at the open page without embarrassment. "Because I wanted to remember how you looked in that light.ing"

"But you drew--" You gestured at the page, at the body on it, at all the parts you would have erased. "You drew everything."

"Yes." He sat across from you and adjusted his glasses. "That was the point."

"I don't look like that though."

"You look exactly like that." He said steadily without hesitation. "I have spent a long time learning to see what's actually in front of me... And what is in front of me is someone worth capturing accurately." He turned the notebook toward you. "Every line here is something I admire. I would not have drawn it otherwise."

You stared at the page and your vision blurred.

"I--sorry." You pushed the heel of your hand against your eye. "That's--no one's ever--"

"Then you have been around remarkably unobservant people."

A laugh jumped out of you, broken as he reached across the table and folded your free hand between both of his, thumbs running slow across your knuckles.

"I will draw you as many times as it takes," he said, "for you to see what I see."

Gepard Landau

He practiced what he was wanting to say to you.

You knew this because Serval told you, barely containing her glee, that her little brother had been pacing her workshop for half an hour muttering to himself with your name constantly in the mix.

"I don't know what he's planning," she said, "but I haven't seen him this wound up since his promotion ceremony."

So when Gepard appeared at your apartment that evening, still in full Silvermane regalia, standing at a posture that was somehow even more rigid than usual, you had some warning. Just not enough.

"I need to speak with you," he said.

"O...kay?"

"It has come to my attention--" He stopped. Started again. "I have observed that you--no. That isn't right either." He pressed his gloved fingers to the bridge of his nose. "I had this memorized."

"Gepard, are you alright?"

"You hold your coat closed when you walk beside me," he said, blunt and suddenly. "You cross your arms in public. You apologize whenever we sit close together and... last week you told me you were surprised I wanted to be seen with you and I have not been able to stop thinking about it since."

The hallway was very quiet.

"I am not skilled at this," he continued, and a flush was climbing his neck above the armor collar.

"I speak more easily about strategy and defense than about--but you need to hear this from me directly. Your body is not something to apologize for. It is--you are-" His jaw worked. "When I see you, what I feel is not obligation or charity. It is desire. It is admiration, and I will not stand by while you convince yourself otherwise."

Your hand came up over your mouth but it was too late. The sound that escaped was small and fractured and completely beyond your control and Gepards composure crumbled instantly.

"Was that--did I say it wrong? I can start over. I prepared a second version just in ca--"

"A second version," you repeated, half-sobbing, half-laughing.

"Serval said my first draft was too formal." he admitted, unknowingly exposing his sisters lie to you.

You grabbed the front of his breastplate and pulled him into to kiss him. He made a startled sound against your mouth and then his hands found your waist over your coat, thumbs pressing into the give of you through the fabric.

"Was that... acceptable then?" he asked when you pulled back, slightly dazed.

"And then some," you said still crying but with a smile.

Sampo Koski

It started with the worst pick-up line you'd ever heard.

"Are you a Silvermane Knight? Because you've got me under arrest and I'm not even mad about it~♥" He leaned across the market stall with both elbows down, chin in his hands, grinning at you with zero shame.

You walked away, but he showed up the next day.

"Did it hurt when you fell from the upper city? Because you look divine--and slightly illegal."

"Go away, Sampo."

Day five. "I've been to a lot of places on this planet. Frozen wastelands, underground tunnels, several rooms I was not welcome in. And the most stunning view is standing right in front of me buying groceries."

Day nine. "You must be an artifact from before the Eternal Freeze because you are a treasure and I'd like to claim you for my personal collection."

Day twelve. "Is your name Penacony? Because you're a dream come--wait, that one wouldn't make sense unless you've been. Hold on, let me--"

"Why are you doing this?" You finally turned on him, bags in hand. "Every day, Sampo. Pick-up lines. At me. Is this a new bit or something?"

"A bit!" He clutched his chest as though pained. "She calls it a bit."

"Look at me." You gestured at yourself--all of yourself, the full obvious picture. "You don't use lines like those on someone who looks like me unless it's a joke."

His grin vanished like a curtain yanked sideways to show the bare wall behind it.

"That," he said, "is the dumbest thing anyone has ever said to me, and I once had a man try to sell me my own shoes."

"Sampo--"

"Who told you that? Who put that idea in your head?" He stepped forward. "I've been showing up to this market every day like a fool because you're gorgeous and I'd rather have you roll your eyes at me for 10 minutes than not have your attention at all."

Your bags hit the ground as your vision blurred.

"Wait, no--Shit." His hands fluttered. "That was supposed to land smooth, that was supposed to be--"

"You're so stupid," you managed, crying fully now in the middle of a Belobog street market.

His face softened as the corner of his lips turned up. "Yup. I'm the absolute worst, now come here already will you?"

You did, and he wrapped himself around you, petting your hair as you soaked his shoulder with your tears.

"Okay--I realize the timing isn't great, but is it safe to say you wouldn't say no if I asked you out to dinner now?" Fortunately you couldn't see the grin on his face, or you might have smacked it.

Luka

You were sitting on the bench in the training area, stretching out a cramp, while pulling at your workout clothes the way you always did after you exercised, making sure nothing was clinging in the wrong places or showing too much of what you didn't want seen.

Luka noticed and dropped onto the bench beside you. His mechanical arm hung loose between his knees while he caught his breath.

"Can I ask you something?" he said.

"Uh, yeah sure. What's up?"

"When you train--and you train hard, I've seen it... do you feel strong?"

You considered your answer a moment before nodding. "During, yeah. Sometimes."

"And after?"

You didn't respond, but your hand was already at the hem of your shirt, tugging.

"Yeah." He nodded slowly, like you confirmed something he already knew. "I kinda figured." He flexed his mechanical arm. "You know how long it took me to stop hiding this thing?"

You looked at him surprised.

"I used to keep it covered constantly. Sleeves, wraps, whatever I could find. Because I figured people saw it and saw weakness." He turned his hand over, looking at his metal fingers. "Took me a while to understand that this arm is part of what makes me capable."

"That's different, Luka."

"Yes and no..." He turned to face you. "I watched you move, your body can do incredible things. You're powerful. Your legs, your core, the way you throw your weight behind a hit... but then you finish and you start hiding again like none of your effort counts because of your shape."

His real hand reached over and caught yours, pulling it away from your shirt. "But it does count. Your body isn't something to work around. It's the whole reason you're as strong as you are."

The gym was silent except for a pipe dripping somewhere distant.

"You...really see that?" you whispered.

"Every time you walk in here." He said with a grin. "And I wish you could see it too because the view from where I'm sitting is pretty unreal."

You pressed your face into your hands and your shoulders shook and he pulled you sideways into him so your head was against his shoulder, and pressed his mouth to the top of your head.

TAG LIST: *empty*

You dug your nails into his back hard enough to leave more marks, and he yelped but grinned wider before dropping down against you. His chest pressed against yours, stomach to stomach, his weight resting on yours.

"I hate you," you said.

"You literally just screamed the opposite of that."

"Well I take it back."

"No takesies backsies. I have witnesses."

"WHO? We're alone."

"The plushie collection in the corner, obviously."

You grabbed his face and kissed him to make him stop talking, and it actually worked for a few seconds.

He pulled back with his lips still buzzing against yours, eyes bright and filled with adoration it made your ribs ache.

"Hey." His voice dropped. "You know I'm not laughing at you, right?"

"I know."

"I'm laughing because I'm happy." He clarified anyways. "You make me so stupidily happy and sometimes my brain just doesn't know what to do with that, so." He gestured vaguely. "Teakettle."

Your throat went tight. You pulled him down and pressed your forehead to his, your nails tracing soft lines along the scratches you'd already left.

"Cute teakettle," he corrected in a whisper.

"I'm going to kill you."

"Mmm, do that later. Let's nap first." He burrowed into you again, arms tightening with his nose pressed against your cheek. "You're my favorite pillow, you know that?"

You didn't say anything. Just held on. Nails in his back, heart in your throat.

He was asleep in two minutes.

Dan Heng

The room had gone quiet except for breathing.

Yours was still catching up but his had already settled within minutes, even now, even after all of that.

You would have found it irritating if you weren't so thoroughly spent.

He was still on top of you, holding some of his weight on his forearms, but enough that you felt pinned in the best possible way, his chest against yours, his hips still slotted between your thighs. Your arms were looped around his back. Your nails hadn't moved from where they'd dug in during the last few minutes, still pressed into his back in little crescent-moon clusters.

You loosened your grip slightly. "Sorry. Did I scratch you up again?"

"Yes." He said it like he was confirming the weather.

"Does it sting?"

"A little."

"Sorry."

"Don't be." His mouth was near your ear. "I could feel every time you got close... Your hands always tell me before your voice does."

Okay. Your face was on fire, but okay.

Your nails dragged a slow, absent path down the center of his back, and you felt his stomach tighten against yours. A controlled reaction from a controlled man.

"Like that?" you asked, and your voice came out braver than you felt.

He pulled back just enough to look at you. His lips were slightly swollen, eyes carrying that unguarded look he never let anyone else see. He studied you beneath him, flushed, full-bodied, breathing hard, still clinging to him like you'd dissolve if you let go.

"Close, try again..." he said quietly, and you dragged your nails from his shoulders to the small of his back.

His eyes closed and his hips pressed forward on reflex, the sound you made from that was embarrassing and involuntary yet you didn't care at all as his forehead dropped to yours.

"This is going to be a problem if the others find what you've left on me..." he murmured. But he was smiling, barely, just the corner of his mouth, and he didn't pull away.

Your nails dug in again without a word and cycle repeated.

Welt Yang

He rolled onto his side facing you, but you hadn't allowed the distance to last. You pulled yourself into him and hitched one thigh over his hip, arms circling his torso, your nails settling into his back like they'd been doing all night. Little half-moon marks layered over longer scratches.

His back held a map of every moment he made you lose your composure, which had been often.

Welt's arm draped over your waist as his thumb traced idle shapes against your hip.

"You're quiet," you said.

"I'm thinking."

"About what?"

"About the fact that you're still digging your nails into me yet I have no desire for you to stop."

You laughed and he watched with a particular expression that looked almost bewildered.

"I miiiight have gone overboard," you admitted. Your fingers walked gently across a raised scratches along his ribs. "You're going to look like you lost a fight."

"I did lose. Happily." His voice had dropped into that used-up, unhurried tone that made your brain go static. "You were saying things toward the end. Do you remember?"

Heat flooded your face. You remembered. You wished that you didn't.

"No."

"Liar." He was smiling now, laugh lines deepening. "You called me da--"

"If you finish that sentence I will smother you with this pillow."

"...Noted, I will refrain." He pulled you closer so that your whole body was flush against his before he kissed your forehead, then the bridge of your nose.

"For the record," he said against your skin, "I liked hearing it. All of it. Every sound you tried to hold back annnnnd every one you couldn't."

Your nails bit into his back again like a reflex, a response your body gave before your brain caught up.

His breath stuttered. Just once. Just loud enough for you to hear it.

Gepard Landau

He hadn't said a word in two minutes.

You were starting to worry. Gepard laid over you, forehead resting against your shoulder, one hand braced beside your head, and he was breathing hard. Your legs were still wrapped around his waist with your nails were buried in the planes of his back.

You lost your sense of restraint somewhere around the third time he made you finish before he did.

"Hey." You loosened one hand and touched his hair. Damp at the temples, sticking up in three directions. "You okay?"

He nodded against your shoulder. Swallowed hard enough that you heard it.

"Gepard, words please."

"I'm--yes." His voice came out wrecked. Completely wrecked. Captain of the Silvermane Guards, steady and unshakable, and you had taken him apart with your bare hands. "I'm okay... just need a minute."

You bit your lip against a smile. "Take your time."

He exhaled long and slow, then finally lifted his head. His face was flushed all the way past his ears. His eyes were glassy and half-focused and looked at you with nothing short of abdoration.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked.

"No."

"You're sure? Near the end I wasn't--I lost track of--"

"Sweetie." You cupped his face with both hands. "You were perfect."

He closed his eyes, and a muscle in his jaw clenched. When he opened them again they were suspiciously bright.

"Don't you dare cry," you whispered.

"I'm not crying."

"Your eyes are wet."

"That's--I don't--" He dropped his face back into your shoulder. His voice came out muffled and indignant. "I just didn't expect it to feel like that."

Your nails traced slow, tender paths across the marks you left on his back. He shivered under your hands, and his arm slid beneath you, gathering you against his chest.

"Next time," he said quietly into your neck, "don't hold back."

Your heart tripped. "I wasn't though."

He pulled back. Looked at you. A slow, disbelieving smile broke across his face--shy and proud.

"Oh," he said.

Sampo Koski

"So are you going to let go, or have you decided I'm your personal scratching post permanently? I mean either way, I'm flattered."

Sampo's grin was audible. You didn't need to see his face to know exactly what it looked like--smug, flushed, extremely pleased with himself. He was propped over you on one elbow, his free hand tracing a lazy figure-eights on your hip, and he hadn't stopped talking since the two of you finished.

Your nails were still embedded in his back, and not gently either.

"You're the one who hasn't moved," you pointed out.

"Why would I? The view from here is incredible." His gaze dropped slowly and deliberately and you yanked him down by the shoulders before he could make it into a whole production.

"Shut up."

"Make me," he winked.

"I already did. Twice."

That actually stopped him for a second before he leaned into you and laughed against your neck.

"Fair point. You absolutely did." His teeth grazed your jaw. "Though I'd argue the second time more of a collaborative effort."

Your nails raked a fresh path down his spine and his back arched, pressing himself even closer, hissing lightly at the sting.

"You keep doing that," he breathed, "and we are not getting sleep anytime soon."

"Promise?"

His head came up, eyes blown wide, hair a disaster, that infuriating mouth hanging slightly open. He lifted himself up and stared at you beneath him--all flushed and equally marked up and completely uninterested in letting him go.

"Oh," he said softly. "Oh, you're going to ruin me for anyone else aren't you?"

"Thought you liked that."

"I love it. That's the problem." He kissed you messily, grinning into it, one hand sliding under the curve of your lower back to pull you up against him. You arched into it and your nails found new terrain along his shoulder blades.

He groaned into your mouth.

"Ruin away," he murmured. "I'll send you the bill."

Luka

His forehead rested against yours, eyes still closed, his breath still finding its way back to even. The mechanical arm hummed faintly where it was braced beside your head. His other hand was curled around your waist, thumb tracing absent circles into your skin.

Your nails were still in his back. You were gentler toward the end, but you left real damage earlier, long lines raked between his shoulder blades, clusters of crescent moons along his ribs.

Every time you shifted your fingers now, his breath would catch just slightly.

"You good?" you murmured.

He opened his eyes and looked at you like you had done something miraculous to him.

"Yeah." His voice was rough. Lower than usual, stripped of its bounce. "Really good."

You dragged your nails lightly up his spine and he exhaled through his teeth, dropping his head to brush his lips on your collarbone.

"Those are gonna be there for a while," he said against your skin. Almost like he was confirming it to himself rather than complaining.

"Does it bother you?"

He pulled back enough to look at you, the flush on his skin went all the way down his neck, and his red hair stuck to his temples in dark wet streaks. He looked your face, your swollen mouth, the marks he left along your neck that you hadn't noticed yet--and smiled.

"Nothing about us bothers me," he said it plainly.

"Luka--"

"I mean it." His thumb stopped its circles. Pressed flat, holding you now.

"Stay tonight," you said.

"Wasn't planning on going anywhere." He grinned, lopsided but a little overwhelmed still. He kissed the corner of your mouth. Then your jaw. Then the spot below your ear that made your fingers spasm against his back.

"There," he murmured. "Found it again."

"Found what?"

"The thing that makes you hold onto me tighter." He pulled back just far enough to look pleased with himself. "I've been keeping track."

Your nails dug in and he laughed against your skin, staying exactly where he was.

TAG LIST: *Empty*

Then—you arrive into the lines of soldiers.

You're a member of the medical group. Tasked in making sure the city always has enough soldiers. Sustaining them to withstand both the icy storms and fragmentums.

While the standard rule instructs medics to be stationed far from the front lines—you're highly knowledgeable regarding the attack patterns of corrupted armies sent by the fragmentums, which becomes valuable in predicting the next attack.

In order to assure your safety—as both the Silvermane Guards medic and strategist—Gepard elevates your status to his right-hand.

Although it implies you'd rarely stray from his side, his intention is to have the authority of sending you away from battle if things were to go out of hand.

If standing as the last wall of defense meant saving you—then he shall do it without hesitation. Of course it doesn't come from biases. He'd do this for all, for his fellow comrades, family, and citizens.

You happen to fit two categories—you're both his comrade and someone he cares for like family.

Yet, Serval has another say on the latter.

“.. Gepard, I know I always called you lil' Geppie—mostly as a joke—but surely you're not taking on the role.” She stares at him with a mix of exasperation and genuine worry.

Despite the confusion he feels, he recognized the look on her face. Lynx had a similar one when he retells a story and you happen to be an occurring character.

“.. I'm not sure why you're saying this, you're the one who wanted me to tell you a story?” He sighs.

“I know, I know—but don't you see a pattern here?”

Her answer (or question) only deepens his confusion.

Was it wrong for him to recite the same story—did she happen to already hear it from the others?

Well, he tends to reuse this tale if someone were to ask what it's like being a captain. Any other ones would surely leave them scarred.

“.. I.. I don't,” he shakes his head, furrowing his brows. “could you at least clarify what you're implying about?” not getting to the point would be an act of villainy in the battlefield. Wasting time is to be avoided.

Serval chuckles, pressing a hand against the side of her head. As if she found his need for an explanation to be amusing. “You've been hanging out with her a lot,” he raised a brow. “And from what I've seen—and heard—you never stray from her side..” Instead the other way around is left unsaid.

“If I leave her be, she could potentially get hurt. We've been able to stabilize our defenses against the fragmentums with her help." His explanation seems logical—because it is!

Plus, he stays close only in dangerous areas like the frontlines. Other than that, he lets you be. You're a fully capable person, he knows that more than anyone.

His older sister, however, doesn't look convinced. “.. Right.” She sighs, dramatically so. “whatever suits you, lil’ Geppie.”

And he finds himself hesitating to retaliate.

—

“Hellooo?” You wave a hand in front of his vacant eyes, staring off into the snowy lands. “Geppie, you alright?”

Gepard blinks out of his dazed, realizing he let his guard down long enough for you to approach him unnoticed. “I—.. Ahem. Forgive me, I was remembering something.”

“what is it?” You lean back against the cold wall, though the cold can no longer seep through the thick layers of your uniform.

He doesn't answer immediately, but you can see him contemplate his answer. “.. No, it's.. Nothing.”

You, theatrically, clutch your chest. Where your heart lies under layers upon layers of warmth. “Ngh—! I thought I'm your trusted right-hand who you tell everything to..! Turns out.. I'm nothing.” To really add to his supposed ‘betrayal', you slowly slide down onto the ground.

He forces himself not to smile at your antics. While on the frontlines the two of you kept things professional. No unnecessary dialogues. It'll be quite critical on both of your reputations if lady Bronya or the supreme guardian herself were to witness you two bantering.

“.. Ahem. Let's focus on our duty, no theatrics." He straightens his shoulders. Yet, when he spots the grin on your face, his eyes soften, and the corners of his lips lift ever so slightly.

You, however, had different plans. Pulling yourself off the wall, you approach him with a little jump in between steps. “Everything's been going pretty well—ever since those outsiders came around and helped, the fragmentums attacks have slowed down by a lot.”

You stretch your arms into the air, sighing in relief as the worries you've been carrying this whole time began to disappear. “I can finally retire from all this..!”

Gepard stills, “O—Oh.. You're planning on leaving?” Me—he had to bite his tongue from letting the word escape his mouth.

“Leaving is not the word I would use, more like—having a well deserved vacation. Oh wait, no, that would imply it's only temporary..” You trail off, finding it difficult to find a fitting word to describe your future plan of retirement.

Unknowingly to you, Gepard had gone unusually quiet. It had finally hit him that his time spent with you is not permanent.

Sure, he'll get to see you during times where he's not stationed somewhere out of Belobog's safe zones. But that alone wouldn't be enough to fill the familiar habit he has after having you by his side for most of his time as a Captain.

And he, naively, thought it would never end. That you would remain by his side in both on field and off.

“.. Geppy, you're making that face again.” A soft poke to his cheek causes him to shiver as he snaps back to reality.

“Hey, I'll come back from retirement if the Silvermane Guard ever needs me. So it's not like I'm leaving Belobog as a whole.” You shake your head at the thought yet it only weighs on Gepard's mind as a possibility.

“.. Forgive me, I suppose I've gotten too used to having you around.” He sighs, yet his mind continues to dwell on that future.

You, however, do not share the same melancholy. More focused on the rather kicked puppy look that your captain is currently wearing on his face. Such a contrast to the Iron Wall that he is in battle. “.. You know, saying ‘I would miss you' is okay.”

“.. I..” He stares at you, finding a smile stretched over your cheeks as it slowly morphs into one of mischief once his cheeks begin to heat up.

“.. Well, I—we would still see each other. Just not as often anymore, and I'd miss you, yes, but I wouldn't go against your wishes to leave behind the guards.” His words are noticeably rushed out of his mouth.

“Mhm,” you don't buy his answer. “Then let me ask this, Geppie—is the captain asking me not to leave the guards or not to leave him?”

Gepard, if possibly, visibly shudders through his armory as his mouth opens yet not a word goes out. Only the sound of his strained gasp. And while you rarely see vegetables with your planet's current climate, a tomato would be a comparable color to your captain's face.

“.. So it's the latter.” You conclude. Watching as the colors darken in shade. His eyes are trying to find a spot to focus that isn't you.

It is truly a sight to see, the captain of the Silvermane Guard reduced to a flustered fool by his right-hand.

“If you don't answer, I'm gonna file for my retirement early.” Obviously you weren't being serious, yet by the shocked look on his face—your threat seems to work.

“I—...” He quickly clears his throat. “I won't stop you from making your decision but perhaps you'd want to.. Uh.. Stay for a little while. The fragmentums aren't yet stable so it wouldn't be beneficial if you were to leave so soon.. And—”

“—And you'd miss me.” You finish the sentence for him.

Gepard goes quiet, heat returning to his cheeks as he tries to compose himself. “.. If that could make you reconsider your decision regarding your departure, then… Yes, I will miss you.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling too much.

Hello! Offe has made her return to the establishment. Serving you yet another request meal, which we hope you enjoyed!

Forgive us for the lack of meals these past few weeks. We've been quite busy, mostly Offe having a hectic schedule outside of work.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ ࿐ྂ

your boyfriend is just so sweet to you. even after long days of work and missions, he wants nothing more but to take care of your needy body as a wind-down activity, basking in your warmth as you tug on his hair firmly, thighs squeezing around his head or when his head is buried in the crook of your neck, biting on the tender skin as he pumps his seed into your greedy pussy. but right now, all he wanted to do was have his mouth coated with your tangy taste.

his lips and tongue work like magic on your sensitive cunt, fingers squelching in your warm, sticky heat. he groans into you, lips suckling on your clit as his long, thick fingers curl into your spongy patch, effortlessly pulling out whines and moans from your sweet lips.

'so sweet f'me when i come home,' he purrs between licks, 'such a good girl.' his dirty talk always sends your mind into a frenzy, eyes glazed over as your pussy sparks with satiated pleasure. it coils deep within your tummy, each groan and flick of his tongue adding to your impending climax.

'g-geppy, 'm gonna cum…!' your back arches off the bed, tits wobbling in the process. his eyes are glued to your expressions and body movement, his ears open for any pretty sound you make, one hand toying with your tits, fingers pinching at your sensitive nipples as the other pumps his leaking cock.

he's just so hungry for you, the thought of your dripping pussy waiting for him as he returns home to you ignites the last bit of energy he has. the lusty need to leave you a dripping, moldable mess with the taste of you lingering on his tongue is exactly what he needed at the end of a stressful day.

he curses against your pussy, sedulously devoting himself to satisfy you. his spit mixed with your juices drip down his chin as he slows down, tongue gliding over your twitching folds teasingly as he looks up at you with hooded eyes. you look down at him with a whine, 'don't stop, 'close!', your bucking needily as your brewing orgasm dissipates. 

'beg for it, sweet girl.' he mumbles, his arms wrap around your thighs to keep you from moving, keeping his agonising pace as he awaits for your pleas. 'tell me how much you wanna cum on my tongue.'

his tongue dips down further, neglecting your clit as he graciously licks up your slick. 

'p-please,' you mewl, face heating up as you continue to babble in that tone of voice that drives him over the edge. 'please lemme cum…! 'm so close, you're so good!'

he groans at your voice calling out for him, unable to resist anymore as his grip on your thighs tighten, keeping your legs spread wide. his lips sloppily kiss your clit before his tongue picks up the pace, alternating between sloppily lapping at your clit, pressing his tongue flat as he moves his head up and down your heat, then back to drawing patterns into your swollen clit. the sounds of him eating you out is downright sinful, lewd slurping and sucking noises mix with the chorus of your sweet voice. with each skillful movement of his mouth your orgasm approaches fast, hurtling at you with an undying speed.

'c-cumming, i'm cumming!'

he grunts as he hears you, lips latching onto your clit as a finger dips into your fluttering heat, curling it upwards as a wave of pleasure breaks over your head, crashing down on your shaking body, your voice is mangled as he continues his ministrations, hands flying down to grip at his hair, trying to pull his head away from your overstimulated cunt as he helps you to ride out your orgasm, moaning at the tension on his scalp. he licks up your milky goodness, lewdly kissing your clit one last time before his mouth moves to your entrance, licking his finger slathered in your release before he moves to your puckering entrance, licking up that final drop arousal.

he sighs, licking his lips at the sight of your twitching pussy. 'you're such a good girl for me, fuck.' he wishes to indulge more, but he takes mercy on you, just wanting to be in your arms for the time being. his body moves up, staying between your legs as he leans down to kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips.

he breaks the kiss, looking down at you lovingly before he speaks, his voice huskier and deeper than usual. 'thank you baby… i really needed that.' he laughs, lowering down his body to lay on you. he lets out a long sigh, the sound of your frantic heartbeat lulling him into a calmer state. you can only huff, a smile creeping to your face as you kiss his ruffled hair. 'i should be thanking you, gepard.'

he shifts a little, a low groan escaping his lips as his still-hard cock brushes against your thigh. you flush as an idea pops into your head, it's the least you can do for him. you lift his head with both hands, kissing him gently before you whisper against his lips, eyes half lidded,

'should i return the favor~?'

Gepard, who Normally is this serious wall of ice, which breaks down so quickly, practically melting in your touch with the slightest teasing. And deep down, he knows you are irresistible to him, even if he's too stubborn to admit himself. His heart will leap out of his chest when you pin him into the wall or wrap your arms around him, pressing your entire body against his armor and uniform; those deep Sapphire Eyes widen, but he remains professional—reminding you that he is on duty and whatever tomfoolery you have will have to wait.

He tries so hard to put his foot down.

"just one kiss?" or an "I missed you..."

But it's never just one kiss. One kiss becomes another, his arms wrapping around you, feeling your entire body pressed against him. The way your fingers trail over his body draws a tiny noise from his lips as his tongue slides into your mouth.

Unfortunately for him you pull away too soon he was still on duty, after all. Gepard, reaches for you when you step away from him longing for more of your touch. "W-wait..."

Gepard who has never had a love interest or had sex before in his life. So he is stuck in the middle of going slow so he doesn't hurt you and rutting his cock against your slick clenching walls like a horny teenager, drunk on the way you feel around his hard leaking cock.

He doesn't know how to dirty talk yet, so he mostly mumbles broken sentences or phrases if it isn't whimpering and moaning.

Watch his face go red, his lip quivering as your name trembles from them Like a Prayer when he watches you climb on top of him. "Gepard..." you say in disapproval. You didn't think you'd get any better until his ears started to pink when he stuttered, " M-my apologies, m-ma'am/ Sir..."

Gepard begs to cum inside you, so desperate to fill your insides with his cum. No matter top, bottom, Dom, or sub, it doesn't feel the same cumming in your hand or on your body as inside you as deep as he can. Mutter anything about how deep he is or how big he feels or how much he fills you'll make him go crazy.