#aboutyasuometa

14. [that scent] - Your muse leans in to sniff my muse. When my muse turns their head to look, their faces are very close together.

Yasuo knows when Sett is in rut. They’ve been together long enough for him to detect it. The half-Vastayan becomes affectionate to the point almost of annoyance—almost—and hangs around the house protectively, as if he is worried anyone else in all of Runeterra is even remotely interested in the ornery-looking swordsman. They aren’t, which he has repeatedly explained to Sett, who, between growled apologies has explained in kind that he cannot help himself. They’ve come to something of an accord over this, though sometimes it still unsettles Yasuo how quietly Sett can move for such a large man.

Outside, cutting firewood for Sett’s mother, Yasuo drowns himself in the task, allowing his mind to wander as it sometimes does, wondering where he would be had he not entered the pit to answer the Boss’s challenge. Well I wouldn’t be sleeping with him,he reminded himself, and wouldn’t that be a tragedy? The amusement brings him back to reality and he turns at the sudden feeling of a presence—it is nothing hostile or he’d have sensed it sooner—just behind him.

“I’m gunna start charging,” grunts Yasuo as he comes face-to-face with the red-headed half breed. Sett’s face is flushed, but not with embarrassment. Yasuo feels the shift in tension and then his own heart begins to beat faster.

“I’ll pay you back later,” rumbles Sett, wrapping an arm around Yasuo and dragging him closer. “Ma’s at the market.”

“Pay me back now.”

And they disappear into the house with nary a word more spoken that is not lifted in ecstasy.

not today satan | fuck no | no thanks | eeeh | not sure | I’d give it a shot | sure why not | omfg yes | there go my pants | holy fuck take me now

Send my muse a kink - accepting

He’d seen Sett on the roster, but as the big man isn’t waiting at base with him, Yasuo assumes he’ll be seeing the guy on the field of battle. These things are usually grueling, so he has stocked up on his favorite alcohol—that is, any alcohol—and is already half a flask in when he begins tapping away on his mobile device, something that looks a little incongruous with the general gist of his getup, but the Rift is a weird place and he has come to accept this.

[SMS] bushes north of mid. Quickie?

Drunk texting, for Yasuo, is the same as sober texting and fortunately usually only has one target. He is not a man with many friends, but he is a man with a voracious appetite for two things: booze and his huge, half-Vastayan lover.

Sett reaches forward and takes Yasuo’s face in both his hands. They are big hands, rough ones, most comfortable forming fists and crashing through flesh, armor, and bone. Those hands could kill the swordsman, but they have no killing intent, not now—never with Yasuo. One thumb slides over the scar that bridges his nose and the half-Vastayan’s grin begins to form. It is a sincere, joy-filled smile of kindred spirits finding each other. Yasuo reaches up and mimics the gesture across Sett’s matching scar, ruby eyes meeting sloe gin.

“Where have you been all my life?” Sett rumbles.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

It’s a strange request, but ultimately harmless. Yasuo puts his weapon aside for a moment and moves over to where Sett is beating the bejeezus out of a relatively durable sandbag.

“Hey,” he grunts, “come down here and get some.” He crooks a finger and gestures at his mouth, which features a cheeky grin curving mischievous lips. The half-Vastayan has no problem setting what he had been doing aside for an offer like that.

Their lips meet with crushing, bruising force, neither man willing to give ground. It looks very much like a contest, until Sett hoists Yasuo bodily and carries him into the house. It would be inappropriate to stay much longer, wouldn’t it?