Satyr (technically nameless)

Satyrs have very typical imperatives. They like good food, pleasant instrumental music, the outdoors, and bodily orifices being filled with phallic objects. Preferably if said phallic objects belonged to their own bodies. Just overall good feels.

City's tend to take away at least half of those pleasant feel-inducing things, though.

Enter this particular awkward-with-monikers satyr who happens to feel just a little caged at times, but tries to go about his business in the city anyway.

He kind of likes this bar he goes to every so often. Nice place. They don't really mind that he doesn't like wearing shirts under his jacket. Or that he's technically barefoot when he walks in.

He's gotten accustomed to grunge music besides his usual instrumental schtick too. In fact, when he's not digging violins or cellos or pan flutes, he's probably listening to something that used to unbearably popular like Three Days Grace or Nickelback.

Maybe not as much as expected of satyrs, but he does like gardens. Usually zen gardens, though.

Oh, and he'll probably love the hell out of your ass. Or of your everything if 'shag-beast' is an accurate description of you. You in general if you smell like Irish Spring and Pho. (he might even be awkwardly be chill about being topped if you're a grungy shag-beast stoner and you love cheap Asian eats!)

The smell of those female things. Or rather their smell when they're trying to have a go at him. Which happens seldom, thankfully.

Obviously doesn't like the city. And his love/hate shit with the city settings and the few things he does love that can only be in the city.

He hates if he makes what he perceives to be a social blunder. Especially the fact he has to worry about them. And sometimes that he has to think about dates instead of just getting on with a good fuck.

 He lives in a studio apartment and when he's not working or spanking his monkey, he's freaking out about his medical bullshit and the ridiculous amount of social whatever he has to process while amongst people.

But don't panic. It's not like there's any fucking social police coming for him if he wears pants with bigass pockets and plaid jackets and smokes a little dope once a blue moon. Just stop fucking panicking.

Do you mind if he's a hairy fuck? Because yeah, he's a hairy fuck. Like could-suffocate-you-with-his-pubes hairy. Just warning you.