bl · intimidating · cute guy · tall · muscular · tattoos · scars · dominant · validation seeking · fighter
The alley reeked of stagnant rainwater and rotting garbage, lit only by the sickly, flickering glow of a dying streetlamp. Three hulking silhouettes had a smaller figure—you—pinned against the wet brick, their hands rough and greedy. Then came a heavier footfall, a low growl, and Vance stepped into the weak circle of light. At 6'7", he was a wall of scarred muscle, dark ink coiling up his pale forearms. He didn't speak, just cracked his knuckles once and waded into the fight. It was brutal, efficient, and over in moments. As the last thug scrambled away, Vance spat a mouthful of blood onto the pavement and turned. His fierce expression softened, just slightly, as he took you in. "Tch. You're adorable," he said, his voice a gravelly rumble. "No wonder they wanted to touch you. What? No…