#lethal clean up
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guest666-art · 10 months ago
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CLEAN UP CREW ON STAND-BY!
.... what an odd group. I hope they are able to make quota on time.
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From left to right:
Terrance/Inspector belongs to @ballcrusher74
Rookie belongs to @personalizationai
Dopey belongs to BlegsBag on Twitter
Spade belongs to @mochitheglitch
Specs belongs to Kris (Unsure of their social medias, if they have any I'll edit this post to add it)
Brain belongs to @soutdakobla
Medic belongs to myself, me!
Lieutenant belongs to @moss-244466666
Four belongs to @wesblr
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thelovelyblark-barg · 8 months ago
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I think the butler is one of my favorite lethal company enemies already
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DJ Lethal? More like DJ Papi Chulo🥴
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galdorcraeft · 1 year ago
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I am not much into the replay yet - always torn between VP and playing - but the whole game looks absolutely amazing and I enjoy playing her again so so so so much.
I am a bit sad though that they changed the netrunner built so much. Don't get me wrong I am sure that it will be fun to play BUT Lilith is canonically a non lethal netrunner. It simply is her nature - and I enjoyed all the non lethal quickhacks in combination with her smart weapons/tech weapon SO much. I am so sad that - besides taking non canon decisions for her because the game forces you - they FORCE me to play way more lethal. And I won't start using blunt weapons. Like no. She would get dirty using those. There is a reason Lilith is avoiding any fight she can xD The only non lethal quickhack remaining is short circuit, which really is a shame for me ;;
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redjaybathood · 2 years ago
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You know, saw a "Battle for the Cowl should have been between Cass and Jason" post and it's a cool idea. Def check that out.
What comes to my mind, though, is - there's no way Jason going in this fight. Like, he sees Cass? He's out. Task Force Z answered this question for us, you know.
And I sincerely don't think he would have been against Cass as Batman if Cass wasn't against him as Red Hood. Batlle for the Cowl was a mess, alright? Jason was there solely to be Dick's foil, push him into the place the writers - and the DC comics in general - wanted Dick to be pushed despite Dick previously not wanting to be Batman. Like, I - and many others - have extensive headcanons making this work, and some people just, dismisse it from their memories (as you should). But that's what it was. If Jason wanted to be Batman - a better Batman than Batman - he was doing it with his Red Hood persona already.
And the last thing: no way in hell would a confrontation between them be a fight. It should be challenging to Cass if this is her story, so it should strike at her weaknesses. Like, an overly complicated plan that a fight, a physical defeat, or even imprisoment of Red Hood won't change anything for Cass.
A funny way to do it would be Jason setting up a voting poll to democratically elect Batman. Make Gotham Safe Again! and all that. The vote can even be, like, the telephone vote as a less on the nose reference to the telephone vote that killed him than what happened in Batman and Robin. The vote is not rigged or anything, Jason also wants to prove to himself as much as to Cass that his way is right and Gothamites share that view. He does campaign though, in some way, and pulls public to his side in short term.
And at first, Cass is like... I don't care. I'm already Batman, you can't fight me for it. What are you gonna do, helmet boy? And yeah, true. But - the public opinion does get to her, or interfers with her work in some way, and maybe she loses confidence in doing what she does. Like, not in the way that makes her consider whether killing is an option (I think it's better suited to her vs Shiva conflict, or another, totally unrelated conflict with Red Hood where they're both against the same guy). But in a way... is she doing enough? Is there any point in what she's doing? And she's coming up with no, it's not enough; there's a point and she's not doing any worse than Bruce did but it is still. Not enough.
So she does something, some... community outreach? Direct action? Something to tackle the three behemots: affordable housing, available jobs, and both available and affordable healthcare. With community building activities like food gardens, food banks, parks instead of parking lots, helping kids stay in schools, childcare for working parents...
And maybe she does use Jason Todd Foundation to bankroll whatever she's doing. And that's what works best. And that's what solves problems. And, you know, people of Gotham do see these efforts but they're still choosing Red Hood as the new Batman over Batgirl. Not sure how they would side if they knew that Cass Cain-Wayne is the Batgirl/Batman. I wouldn't bet my money on it? Because, yeah, The Cult. But it's not the point. The point is, Jason seeing the results, and seeing how the crime rate drops, and people's life getting easier, and being like. This is something that really would have made my life and my parents and the guys I knew, and their families', lives easier. I should also do something about that.
And he's like, calls this election thing off. And promotes (ironically) not himself but Jason Todd Foundation and Cassandra Cain-Wayne Initiative. And - helps, now, with whatever Cass is doing.
But also, he still kills whoever needs killing, because something tells me that people who're into child trafficing, for example, are not in it for affordable housing.
And Red Hood and Batman would need some level of coordination, you know. If it's possible to build a case against the worst offenders, Jason needs to keep them alive. If it's not - when what are you doing killing people, Jason, you can't kill people on not enough evidence! But if there's a trial, and the scumbag gets away because corruption or threatening jury or something else... Cass, just, backs off. Her time is finite, too, you know. She's not letting Jason kill people. She's just... being productive and efficient and using time-management skills an d... It's not like Jason leaves evidence... And... Look. Between saving people in trouble who can't save themselves, or saving people who are after people who can't save themselves from Jason? A girl can't be in two places at once, even if the girl is the Batman.
But also, the next case they're both on is the corrupt judge or cop or DA etc. So the amount of mistrials is dropping, which means next to none people Jason needs to kill.
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angrybatgaming · 10 months ago
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Finally got my laptop back, and I'm now in the process of letting it do its thing to set everything up again. Because either they did a FULL factory reset, or just gave me a brand new device. It's running much faster now, sooo....PLEASE LET IT STAY THAT WAY FOR YEARS TO COME!!!
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And it appears that Steam ate my ONI screenshots. Again. How do I keep them from disappearing like that???
Anyway, I also have Lethal Company. Hopefully it can run that. I was able to start up Phasmophobia on it once. (Didn't get far because I didn't have any friends who also had it, and I'm honestly too scared to play online co-op games with strangers.) Not to mention I was also able to run Subnautica on an older laptop I don't use anymore. So, crossing my fingers.
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ashes-of-ailell · 1 year ago
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three houses is a great relaxing game for me. I can just go on autopilot and watch the funny guys on my screen fight to the death it's great :3
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bingobongobonko · 2 years ago
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sometimes i think i talk a lot and then i remember. Yeah you do talk a lot... but it's about cool shit so its ok
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guest666-art · 10 months ago
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Ensured damnation as a failed attempt
Enlightened windows to the mind were damaged still
While your claws laid across your chest
And now you're all alone
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beemovieerotica · 5 months ago
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struggling with how to word this, but putting it out there anyway:
i can fully understand the posts on here from a lot of americans being tired of "vote blue no matter who" posts when the #1 thing that people are constantly (and sometimes only?) addressing is how the republican party is going treat trans/queer people if elected.
it's part of an unfortunate pattern of prioritizing the effects on a demographic that includes white + upper class people, when people of color and those in the global south are actively and currently being killed or relegated to circumstances in which their survival is very unlikely
it is genuinely exhausting to witness this, and i was also on the fence about even participating in voting because i a) felt like it didn't matter and b) every time i voiced being frustrated with the current state of the country, white queer people would immediately step in with "but what about trans people!" -> (i am mixed race trans man)
and i say this with unending patience toward people who do this, because i know that it's not something they actively think about. but everyone already knows how the republican party is going to treat queer people. you are probably talking to another queer person when you bring up project 2025. the issue is that, for those of us who aren't white, or for those of us who are but who are conscious of ongoing struggles for people of color worldwide, the safety of people around the world feels more urgent than our own. that is the calculation that's being made.
you're not going to win votes for the democratic party by dismissing or minimizing these realities and by continually centering (white) queer people.
very few people on here and twitter are actually talking about issues beyond queer rights that concern people of color, or how the two administrations differ on these issues instead of constantly circling back to single-issue politics. this isn't an exhaustive list. but these are the issues that have actually altered my perspective and motivated me to the point of committing to casting a vote
the biden administration has been engaged in a years-long fight to allow new applicants to DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, the program that allows undocumented individuals who arrived as children to remain in the country) after the Trump administration attempted to terminate it. the program is in limbo currently because of the actions of Trump-backed judges, with those who applied before the ruling being allowed to stay, but no new applications are being processed. Trump has repeatedly toyed with the idea of just deporting the 1.8 million people, but he continues to change his mind depending on whatever the fuck goes on in his head. he cannot be relied on to be sympathetic toward people of hispanic descent or to guarantee that DREAMers will be allowed stay in the country. biden + a democratic controlled congress will allow legal challenges to the DACA moratorium to gain ground.
the biden administration is open to returning and protecting portions of culturally important indigenous land in a way that the trump administration absolutely does not give a fuck. as of may 2024, they have established seven national monuments with plans to expand the San Gabriel Monument where the Gabrielino, Kizh / Tongva, the Chumash, Kitanemuk, Serrano, and Tataviam reside. the Berryessa Snow Mountain is also on the list, as a sacred region to the Patwin.
i'm recognizing that the US's plans for clean energy have often come into conflict with tribal sovereignty, and the biden administration could absolutely do better in navigating this. but the unfortunate dichotomy is that there would be zero commitment or investment in clean energy under a trump-led government, which poses an astounding existential threat and destabilizing force to the global south beyond any human-to-human conflict. climate change has caused and will continue to cause resource shortages, greater natural disasters, and near-lethal living conditions for those in the tropics - and the actions of the highest energy consumers (US) are to blame. biden has funneled billions of dollars into climate change mitigation and clean energy generation - trump does not believe that any of it matters.
i may circle back to this and add more as it comes up, but i'm hoping that those who are skeptical / discouraged / tired of the white queer-centric discourse on tumblr and twitter can at least process some of this. please feel free to add more articles + points but i'm asking for the sake of this post to please focus on issues that affect people of color.
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mothxart · 6 months ago
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I remade her reference sheet, the badges are now added and I erased some non pertinent informations
:D
THE NEW PEAPAW’S REFERENCE SHEET HAS ARRIVED ✨✨
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After that she’s turned into a masked, she lives on Rend
A little clarification!! She is very obsessed with her mask BUT she never had the temptation to put it on nor the intention… when the mask broke when she dropped it, it awoke the bug entity within the mask and persuaded her to put it on (I headcanon that masks are living entities)
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pizzaisgo · 9 months ago
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100000 little things conspiring to make me lose my fucking marbles as soon as I enter the kitchen
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downtherabbitholewithlucy · 2 years ago
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Starting off the New Year
Expectation Reality
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fatherbrat · 1 month ago
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precious baby boy bokuto, who cums so easily but has stamina for days, a lethal combination that means he’ll be filling you to the brim with his cum every time you fuck. he whines as he eases into you, obscenities already spilling from his lips before he even bottoms out. just a few pumps in and he’s already tossing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut as he shoots his first load deep inside your pussy. he doesn't stop though, doesn't even slow down. he just keeps going and going and going, rutting into you over and over again until you’re twitchy and overstimulated, mind hazy and eyes glazed over. there are fluids everywhere, tears staining your cheeks, spit and drool on your lips and his fingers, his cum spilling out of your cunt and soaking the sheets beneath you. you’re almost relieved when he finally pulls out, only for his mouth to replace his cock as he buries his tongue inside you, insisting you let him clean up the mess he made.
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janumun · 5 months ago
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Painted Red (LaDS Sylus - NSFW ABCs Headcanon]
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Rated: NSFW/18+
Words: ~4k
Tags: oral, vaginal and anal sex, usage of toys, fingering, enemies to lovers dynamic/passing usage of guns, bondage, semi-public sex, improper use of Evol, switching power roles, dirty talk, masturbation, mirrors, orgasm denial, praise kink
Author’s Notes: A little treat to myself right before Sylus’ release. Please take careful note of those tags and content warnings before you proceed.
I hope you enjoy your read as much I enjoyed myself writing this!
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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)   
With the state of indecent disarray one usually ends up in —  quivering, drenched thighs, nerveless arms useless by your sides, a flushed face and an inability to catch your breath — after a single night spent in Sylus’ bed, aftercare is a necessity post-coitus. And fortunately, the man, damn him, knows and understands so, very well.  
And so, he has a pitcher of cold water, prepared well beforehand — even on days your dalliances are not what the two of you intend when you meet — ready and at your disposal by the bedside.  
The moment he pulls out of you, another short one spared to ensure you are still there, with him and well, he’s moving off of you. A clean robe he throws on, loose, over his body before striding over to the nightstand to pour you a glass.  
A cool, pleasant palm he eases against the back of your head to raise, as he encourages you take those big, long gulps of fluid to quench your thirst and replenish your energies. “There you go, well done,” his low baritone settling deep within your belly, your core instinctively clenching in on emptiness to hear his unexpected praise for something so very mundane.  
Truly, you do not know what this man is doing to your body and mind.  
Extra 
Sylus slides into bed with you for the remainder of your night and tucks close under the covers, for your much needed repose.  
Morning afters, you greet with a fresh shower (and on days you insist, with him), a pair of clean towels and a pressed outfit, ready for you to change into and later settle in for a healthy, fulfilling breakfast, whipped up to perfection by his personal chef. All of his house-staff, professional, discrete and well-versed in handling affairs of the Onychinus scion’s household. Whatever the two of you share within the confines of your privacy — animosities or amourous rendezvous —  remains entombed, within that very space.  
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)   
Sylus takes pride within his dexterity, particularly that of his limbs (...particularly that of his hands, his fingers when it comes to matters of the bedroom).  
One would hardly expect a man of his body stature to possess the nimble flexibility that resides compacted within his body. An erroneous judgment that often proves fatal to foolish foes within a fight.  
And with you, he puts that lethal agility to use: within the push of thick digits up into your clenching walls, the roughened pads of them swiftly seeking and pressing up against the spot at your frontal walls that makes you wail, makes you twist. Makes that body of yours gush against his insistent palm in an orgasm vehement enough, you see dark blanket across your eyes for the scarcity of mere seconds. Truly bringing upon you, as they call it, la petite mort. A tiny death.  
Sylus is extremely fond of your face. It’s not because of the way you look, a mere pretty face in the crowd he would simply gloss over; it’s the striking catch of your facial tells that steal his gaze and keep it captive.  
The wary intensity of your eyes the first time you laid eyes on him. 
Or the way your brow knit in firm concentration when you had him tossed to the ground, once. Nearly taking him by something almost akin to surprise, the weight of your gun, incessant, against his chest. Your mouth turning sour in restless irritation when he dared try tease at your sensibilities, a harsh knee you plunged deeper into his torso.  
The quick work of your mind — a testament of its well-endowed intellect and wit, a Hunter of good repute —  channeling brilliance in crisp words uttered from rouged lips, when the two of you, on one certain occasion, found yourselves in a particularly dire situation. One you’d agreed to accompany him to, undercover, as an associate of the Onychinus’ head.   
Truly, he has been snared with your fascinating mien since the day he laid his eyes upon you, your expressions spinning — amusing — as if placed upon a carousel, the longer he spends in your company.  
And from there on, is born a desire to witness even more.  
When you drive him back into the covers with the force of your wet kiss, parting untimely before he has the proper chance to put his tongue into your mouth and taste for himself (there will be further opportunities, he holds himself). 
The way that well-coveted, devious tongue sweeps a slow path against your upper lip —just out of reach — edge to edge. The harsh dash of red, high across your cheeks, the intensity of your breaths, untamed as his. And those beautiful eyes, a riotous mix of vexation and desire so incinerating, it turns Sylus’s cock to unbearably hard stone beneath the cleft of your ass, he bucks up against you just to see that wheeling carousel within your gaze, shift forms for him, watch that mouth swear at the exhilarating stimulation of your combined symphony, he knows, you too feel. Just for him alone.  
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)  
Sylus enjoys the slick feeling of your skin stained by his cum; that exact moment he pulls out of your quivering walls to release himself in thick spurts down the length of your folds. Slips the head of his cock against the smears of his release, before pushing back, slow, once more into your depths.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)  
There is no secrecy or shame involved with a man in possession of as poised a self-assurance as Sylus; his sexual tendencies he not only owns up to and understands but has no qualms about elucidating his wants in great... obscene detail, to his partner, you.  
He wants you to be knowing exactly what it is you are doing to arouse him and exactly how to get him up to that stage.  
His palms curving about your thighs, scaffoldings of heated flesh that climb up and slink slow beneath the cut of your dress. Covetous fingers that trace delicate patterns against the lining of your panties and yet you quiver underneath that feather touch alone. “Such fine lace.” Garnet gaze, sharp, as it meets yours within the tight, much too confined space of his car. 
The chauffeur in front, separated a mere layer away from the two of you as Sylus wrenches you onto his spread lap, the firm muscle of his thighs unyielding beneath as they shift, subtle, to press you deeper against a broad chest.  
Index and middle scouring a hot, glancing path against your clothed slit before withdrawing, leaving you to scramble for purchase against the fine pressed collar of his shirt, creasing it within your hold.  
Your question snipped short with the soft, soughing whisper at your ear, voicing his true intentions. “I’d very much like a memento, to remember our evening by. Your panties...” Devious fingers pinching at the apex of your heat. “They will do well, sweetheart.” 
A moan tumbles past your lips before you can smother the sound —   you break it against the sweep of his mouth, welcoming —  at such a scandalous request, bold, without a lick of remorse. Just as the man himself.  
“I trust you will help me then, yes?” A long, tapered finger, pressing above underwear, right at your slit. Course thumb leisurely stroking its fire against that tight bead of pleasure. A rumbled groan he breaks free against your ear to feel the wanton slick of your arousal, soaking right through fabric. “That’s right, drench them well. I want your fragrance long on my gift, even after your departure.”  
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)  
Sylus has been out and about. He isn’t capricious enough to have changed sexual partners as frequently as the rumors around Zone N109 might paint him to have, but he is certainly no stranger to sex.  
His preference before you, usually having been for casual, short-lived, discrete dalliances, to indulge in bodily pleasures and no more beyond. With a man as committed to his goals as Sylus is, with a clear concept of how he wishes to manipulate the underworld to his liking, he does not spare much attention to subsidiary gratifications. 
With people at large, he is apathetic to that which does not catch his interest. There is very few within this world that truly does.  
And you, now, stand among those rare few treasures that have all of his attentions arrested. 
He finds himself wanting to captivate you, in turn, not just in body but mind. Truly, he finds you a fascinating being.  
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)  
Seated within his lap, cock nestled warm within clenching depths. 
Hair, a spread of wild locks across the coverlet, mirroring the writhing state of your sweat-drenched body underneath his, as he thrusts into you. 
Hungering fingers clawing at the expanse of his chest, down the strength of his shoulders as you furiously grind upon his cock, intoxicatedly chasing an orgasm just within reach. Strong fingers, he rushes down the length of your clenching abdomen, inquisitive palm digging just beneath your naval to feel for the vibrations that ripple across pliant skin with the vehemence of your thrusts onto his cock.  
Sylus relishes the privilege of your private, salacious unravelings, brought upon by him alone, by what he does to you and what you force out of him, for your singular pleasure. Desires heightened to witness you using his body to bring yourself to shattering ruin, it floods his veins with inebriating arousal so heavy, his body aches with the force of his want. 
As such any which way he takes or lets you take, which allows him privy to your raw, unfettered emotions rushing across your face [See above: B, Body Part] is what he enjoys most. Bringing him to completion the fastest when he is able to witness your mouth breaking apart in moans, watch sex mussed strands of hair stick to your temples, mixing in with the sweat of your body, tear-streaked pleasure smeared vivid across your cheeks. 
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)  
Your sexual escapades are hot, often times competitive and cathartic; an unfettering of strangled desires. Bursting to the surface within the fever of your intimacy. Arduous cravings that are hardly scotched in a singular session. 
Vocal and perverse though he may be in tongue when it comes to your love-making, Sylus is not one for poetic romanticisms waxed within the bedroom. A man of action rather than ornate words. 
His regard for you exhibited in the grip of sturdy arms that clutch you back against his body, feeling for each part of you pressed against his. In the tongue that laves at sweat soaked skin in soothing mercy, from the relentless assault of his hips against your ass.  
Roughened thumbs that swab at tears from red-rimmed eyes, post-coitus, a gentle towel that skates soft down the quivering length of your ruined body before tucking it clean into fresh robes.  
The manner in which he chooses to stay close and warm your bed, instead of leaving right after, even after the fire within your veins has long cooled itself. Foregoing his own personal mandate, to never spare a single trace of himself behind.  
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)  
Sylus takes exceptional care to maintain good hygiene at all times; a man who looks and smells just as good, the pleasant, sharp undertones to his cologne, having you canting your nose into the space of his neck, as you breathe. 
 Right at that tendon wrung taut with the press of your teeth into a harsh bite, to choke the scream that climbs up your throat with the hard propulsions of his cock into your depths.  
Downstairs, he is fairly clean; a shave on the regular, a mere fine dusting of ivory tracing a path from navel, downwards until it disappears beneath the stretch of his pants.  
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)  
[Also see above: G] Choosing to bury his skewed smiles against your wet moans, the bite of restive teeth you sink into his lip, pulling it wider.  The anchor he throws forwards for both your sakes in the entwining of digits, meshing tight against the other to ride out your highs.  
Sinking a bite in farewell right above your left breast before you part, so he knows how that heart bears its frenzied beats for him alone. A reminder he leaves upon your body to ache by, until the next time he finds himself buried within you.  
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)  
Sylus lies in possession of an exceedingly high sexual drive. And herculean, in-humane self-control to boot. Experienced though he may be, due to the course of his sexual history; he’s been able to keep his casual encounters to a minimum due to how well he is able to compartmentalize his needs.  
Overwhelming desires at times, he often spilled within the confines of an oiled fist. At others, tamping down the more primal parts of himself, until he felt it turn a necessity.  
After you, he allows himself release from that tight-fisted restraint more often. Finishing himself in white relief, trickling down his fingers on the days (...hours) he does not have your warm body to sheath into, does not have the symphony of your cries to help him along.  
Your visage in mind, sharp, jagged; he’s already expecting your next meeting with bated pleasure. 
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)  
Sylus loves the color red on you, appreciates fiercely how becoming it is on you.
Loves to buy you dresses — scarlet as his eyes, as his desires —  to put on, when you let him. Personally ensures, first-hand, they are well-fitted, within the confines of a cosy dressing room. 
When large hands reach to flit past the split of your dress, cup about your ass, fingers drifting about your waist. “A perfect fit.”He praises, to your reflection within the body-length mirror. Skating further up your body to finger the strap of the outfit, skirting it, slow, down your shoulder. Indolent digits, index and thumb, pinching at the hardened peaks of a breast. Curving a hefty palm about the clothed flesh. “You’re a sight to behold.” 
Red, when he curls a palm in between the cleft of your legs, leaves your flesh smarting with the short, pinching grinds against an increasingly swollen clit, stimulated for hours on end. Ruby, to match the flush at your cheeks. Scarlet, down the crescent of your breasts.  
Wine, when you make his color spill with the bite of harsh teeth into his lip, bursting blood in between your mouths, as you withdraw on panting breaths.  Tipping down in willing obeisance — he gifts just to you— with the violent tug of your fingers, directing him back against your mouth. Lapping at his wound, marking him for your own.  
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)  
Anytime, any place, any where.  
There isn’t an authority powerful enough on Earth to stay his hand, once the two of you decide you want your bodies against each other. Sylus does not shy from an opportunity presented, and if there is none, he makes one.  
In seclusion, or in public— 
Crowds melting away the moment his fingers whip about your waist, stealing you away into private silence. The weight of his Evol has barely scattered from your shoulders, before the strength of his body replaces it, driving you back against a carved pillar. Mouth pulsing against yours in a slow, heavy kiss. Wet, hot; parting from your tongue on a conjoined string of damp pleasure, that bows and breaks under the weight of gravity.  
There isn’t a moment he does not desire you and he certainly has no specious sensibilities to appeal to, when it comes to the chance to indulge you.  
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)  
Curses, nothing quite turns Sylus on than to see you flourish in the place you shine best. When you are dedicated and singular-minded, in pursuit of your target. When you are forced to contend against situations far out of your control, compelled to navigate the perilous dangers that come with your line of work, be it the Tenebrae, Wanderers or something else entirely. And rise above it all, through the sheer drive you possess, a stubborn nature unable to give up on what you believe in. Not unlike his own, a kinship he finds within you.  
A desire to obtain that fire for his own. 
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)  
There is little Sylus would ever deny you. Certainly, keep from you, briefly; demands he may not fulfill immediately, in the pursuit of your combined pleasures. 
Sharing you with another, however, is a stringent boundary. 
Despite that first impression he settles, of immovable composure, he’s territorial, rather like a murder of crows, over you. Your heart, your sole focus, he desires to monopolize for his own. 
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)  
Having your mouth on his cock is stimulating. Having your positions swapped and your ass grinding hard against the strength of his jaw, however, is what truly incinerates the blood within his veins. The leverage it bestows within his hold, to have you. Manipulate your pleasure to his liking, set the blood thrumming high within your own body.
Sturdy arms that cord about the plush of quivering thighs, garnet gaze that rolls up to capture yours, accompanying the wicked bite of teeth into the pliant flesh of your thigh. The flat of his tongue running from base to hood, ensuring not a single drop is wasted.  
Relishing his victory in the slow sweep of lids falling shut, the open grin that pulls taut, with the harsh, fluttering pull of your fingers at his hair, shoving him deeper into your pussy. Signaling your utter defeat. 
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)  
Sylus is in it for the long game. And no matter what it takes, no matter the cost, he sees to it that he gets what he wants.  
Oh, him fracturing from that torturous tug-and-pull you’ve got going on, is but a feverish wish on your part. Sylus lives for the pleasure of your ruination, delights in the number of times he can crest you to your climax. And when not. 
Part desire, part the necessity to have you well and utterly drenched before he even thinks to breach that soft, quivering flesh. Extended periods of torturous teasing foreplay, obligatory if he is to have penetrative sex with you. His size, he understands, not an easy burden to accommodate.  
He often starts out slow; long, deep thrusts into your body as it clenches and moulds against the shape of him. Stimulated eventually enough, you drip copious against him, pleasure over-riding any remaining scraps of  fleeting discomfort entirely until you’re clawing at the sturdy strength of his back. 
Fingernails pulsing at the firm flesh of his ass, his name tumbling incoherent from a parched mouth, until he’s driving into you with the vehemence of an untethered beast. Guttural groans and whispered sighs, splintering against the give of your neck in tandem to your mounting screams. Quenched against the bite of a breast.  
Letting your desires burn in between you until the moment they’re blanketed, hours later, into the dark of night.  
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)  
Sylus does not wait. When he witnesses desire pool within that provoked gaze, watches the fire that burns parched, as you seek for moisture with the slow slide of a pink tongue against your rouged lip.  
Helping you along into a dark crevice, if you’re out in public. Drawing your panties down against your thighs to reach for the place in between your legs. Roughened fingers plucking at wetness, dragging an indolent path from your slit to the apex of your sex. Curving one long, tapered digit into your clenching walls, stroking, until he brings you crashing for him.  
Proud mouth pulsing a kiss in hushed laughter against your temple, as he assists you in putting yourself back in spruced order.  
Sylus never goes the entire way, when the two of you are rushing against the clock. Ample time, he requires — and makes certain he’d have that, later — to unwrap and uncover the entirety of you, piece by piece.  
An early aperitif, however, is one he isn’t opposed to, especially when it is served, as intoxicating as you are. 
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)  
He’s willing and he’s game; a word from you is all he requires before granting you exactly what you desire, in spades.  
There isn’t a thing you could throw his way to turn him off you, Sylus is the kind of man to take it all in stride.  
[See also: L, N and K] 
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)  
Oh, he possesses a generous, infuriating amount of discipline; immovable rock in the face of obvious temptation. That does not, however, imply there isn’t a savage beast caged, restless, underneath that cool, tempered demeanor. Sylus merely maintains inhumane control over the leash of that sexuality beneath. And he knows how well to untether it too, once he allows himself to let loose his inhibitions.  
Infinite stores of stamina (for daaays), an extremely brief refractory period and an overwhelming desire to wring you dry, entirely for himself, make for a terrifying combination.  
Your hips would long break before Sylus’ cock ever begun to lose its vigor.  
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)  
Sylus knows an opportunity when he sees one and the chance to have you utterly devastated, is one he never lets up on, and toys are just a welcome addition to his arsenal.  
Pretty little baubles, the two of you purchased together on one of your dates — a discrete, neat store tucked within one of N109’s infamous districts, the way he’d encouraged your fascinated survey of the store’s à la mode selection of vibrators and jeweled plugs, a vaguely amused smile plucking at his mouth. Pulling up every single toy that sparked your fancy for a detailed overview from the ever-present staff, more than happy to answer all your enthused questions.  
Rounding a firm hand about your waist to tug to his side, at the end of your purchase trip, breathing a sensual promise into the cleft of your ear, to let you try them all out in due time. 
And he fulfills it, in equal enthusiasm. 
Deft fingers that press up to slide against the insistent vibrations of the object settled snug into your wet walls. Toying, indolent, at the intensity of its stimulation with sporadic flicks of his Evol. Your stuttered moans clawing higher the longer he keeps you suspended within this torturous state of denial. Rejecting your babbles to let you come, that he’s been at it for hours.  
“Not yet,” he instructs, slipping a cool hand onto the shell of your hip to hold down your senseless bucking.  
It is only several, excruciating denied orgasms later does he tug free the plug at your ass, pressing his cock in lieu of its emptiness. And the way your hole clamps down in a vice at the base of him drags a shuddered, guttural groan from him. Your body stimulated so beyond sense, it drags an exhilarated laugh from his chest, in conjunction to your lost moans. 
“This is it, lovely. Are you enjoying yourself that much?” Mouth pulling wider at your vehement nods. “Do you desire more?” Sinking three fingers up to the knuckle into your pussy, without warning. A quick tug of them upwards, has his energy tinkering at the vibrator’s intensity, sending it buzzing higher and you wail your curses at him. “Hah.” He shudders above, pressing deeper against your back. “That’s it, I like those sounds.” 
“Sing higher, darling.” 
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)  
Oh, his craving for riling you up and goading you is infinite. 
Even when you have him physically bound and at your mercy; the gorgeous, insouciant pull of that mouth into a skewed smile —  a crafted calculation — has you feeling as if he still holds the entirety of a winning deck within those trussed hands.  
Through each singular groan, every heaving breath and grunt, a disquieting, infuriating grin tugs constant at lips that demand further of your cruelty. As if a perverse beast actually enjoying the cage it belongs in.  
The ram of a harsh heel, deep into his abdomen, has his grunting a long, gravely sound, Sylus’ body driving further into the savage crush of your shoe — pleasure so intoxicating in the knot of strong brows, that parted mouth —  it stirs fiery arousal deep within your own belly.  
Traitorous wetness trailing down the length of your thighs, arousal that Sylus convulses against the binds of his shackles for. Manages to dip forwards just enough —  the brute —  to catch the trickle of wetness against an adept tongue, at your thigh, and lap. Garnet gaze seeking and capturing yours in a haze so vicious your fingers fist harsh into his hair, in an unforgiving pull. Your moans, he steals — victorious — for himself.  
“That is surely not all you can manage to do with me, can you, darling?” 
 And you can’t be too dishonest with yourself any longer; your orgasms far more fervid and ruinous when he’s had you both dancing along to his little cat-and-mouse game for hours on end, teasing you both with the pantomime of the act. Until, finally, finally, his cock plunges past aching, swollen folds and into your drenched, clenching walls.  
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)  
Sylus’ moans are low, licentious burrs; throaty whispers he secretes right against your ear, to turn your legs to quivering flesh. He doesn’t require his voice to rise above a certain octave, not when he has you gushing on his face with the vibrations that buffet deep into your pussy, when that pleasured rumble of his breaks right in between your legs. 
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)  
Sylus does not care much for binding or detaining you — restraining your senses — for personal pleasure.  
He allows you use of your precious fetters and restraints, for what it does for him — an opportunity to maneuver your pleasure — and for the two of you, that is... if you can manage to bring him under, to begin with.  
It merely isn’t something that works for him, in roles reversed, when he finds himself sufficient enough to draw forth the pleasure he can achieve for the two of you, with his body alone. 
He has innumerable ways within his arsenal he can bring you to mind-numbing finish with, and he doesn’t require the comfort of a rope for that.  
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)  
Sylus’ cock is a beautiful, symmetrical thing — rather intimidating at first glance. He teaches your body to take it well, in long, pleasurable lessons. Curving, slight. towards his abdomen. A thick shaft running up into a flared glans that burns in pleasurable penetration the first time you take him in. Numerous, undulating veins along the length, that bump perfect against the surface of your tongue when you swirl around it. 
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)  
[Incredibly high as detailed at great length in J and S] 
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 
Sleep is the farthest thing from mind when the Onychinus’ head has you tucked at last, exhausted, within his bed. His body — long programmed — hardly permitting the scope of vulnerability slumber brings, in your presence.  
And so, he puts that time to other pursuits. Often nights, choosing to watch over your sleep, carding the occasional stray strand of hair back against your ear. At others, he brings work to bed, spectacled scarlet gaze scouring over lines of text and diagrammatic compilations.  
Not choosing to desert your side, even once, throughout the entire night, protective over your own vulnerability, for as long as it lasts. 
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End Notes: Once my fingers actually started on this man, I could not stop even if I wanted to. Sylus has me gripped by my very throat and that worries me greatly LOL.
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ironinkpen · 6 months ago
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i fully believe that the Rat Grinders will be revived after all is said and done and that their deaths aren't permanent, which is why I personally LOVE how fucking brutal the Bad Kids were with them this ep. it really drives home just how one-sided the Rat Grinders' obsession with them has always been—they go into this ready for epic, cinematic, toe-to-toe combat, but the Bad Kids categorically Do Not have the time or the energy to get into their whole deal right now and drop them in like two rounds. fuck non-lethal damage, they need these assholes out of their way YESTERDAY. there's truly something so fitting to me about the battle-hardened Bad Kids having no patience for coddling the Rat Grinders when the world is actively ending. like yeah yeah, we can figure out who's actually evil later and bring you back to life, but everyone currently trying to resurrect a dead god is going in interplanar timeout right now while the grown up adventurers clean up your mess, sorry
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