Decided to exercise in the morning instead of evening and just. *ouch*. Lets hurt bad. No big adventures today I guess lol
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Chapter 3 vibes. Not sure I’ll actually get around to writing it today, but hey. A vibe’s a vibe, my dudes.
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Thinking about fox shifter!Childe who loves to chase bunny shifter!Reader. He chased you when he first met you, fox paws pinning you down in your squirming rabbit form, until you wore yourself out and he took you home with him. But after he knows you, he still loves the chase.
The tinge of instinctual fear intermingled with nervous thrill in your scent makes his blood pump. His fox ears are out, tail streaming behind him as he chases after you, following the noises you make as you bound and leap through the forest, trying to stretch out the distance between you and him.
You’re fast, but Childe has trained tirelessly over the years to hone his senses and master his body—both human and fox form, and the in-betweens. So he gains on you, your scent growing stronger to the point he can almost taste it.
He can tell you’re tiring.
Once he closes the distance and catches you, hands wrapping around your waist and spinning you around, he pushes you up against a tree. Before you can get a word out, he tears through the sleeve of your shirt with sharp claws, his fox features still present with the adrenaline running through his veins. Your noise of surprise is ignored. He swipes his tongue along your neck, savoring the taste of your skin: slightly salty from running, but your sweet scent is so strong here. Childe can hear your blood pumping, see your pulse fluttering, and he can’t help himself.
He bites.
Sinks his teeth into your skin, where your neck curves into your shoulder. You whine, in shock and at the sting of pain, but a shiver runs down your spine. His canines are sharper than a normal human’s, but he takes care to not break skin—this time.
He pulls back slowly when you thump your fist into his chest.
“Get off! Why did you have to go and tear my top?”
Childe runs his tongue over his teeth. He can taste you on his tongue, in his mouth, and he grins. “You ran from me.”
Your fingers brush over his bite mark. “I thought that was the whole point of what we planned,” you complain. “Why am I getting punished for it?”
“That’s not a punishment,” he says, blue eyes darkening. “It’s a reminder that I’ll always catch you, no matter how far you run.” He’ll be satisfied with the possessive mark left on your neck for now. It will fade in a few days, but that will be the perfect excuse for him to chase you again.
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There’s nothing I can say to out of town guests to make them understand. You cannot shut the washer once it’s task is done. You cannot leave the bathroom door shut. You cannot leave a damp towel on the ground.
The mold is coming. The mildew creeps ever closer. You cannot defeat it but you must take all the steps you can to fight it lest it overtake your dwelling.
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