#(hint: its NOT the one checking the other out)

[wedreamedlove]

[FIC] touch me softly and i'm yours

Rating: Explicit Characters: Osborn/Reader Word Count: 14,138

Summary: He has never asked for or expected anything from the world, he has only wanted to find a small corner he can call home, and you’re fortunate enough to be able to build one with him.

A/N: 20:00 Osborn's 2024 Birthday Relay. Beastmen AU with a black panther Osborn and human reader.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

The manual clock you deliberately hung up on the wall carries out its job diligently, making every second that passes tighten the air until the atmosphere in the underground office is oppressive. You turn the last page of the mission report you’re reading and then toss it onto your desk, the papers scattering haphazardly, before you raise your eyes to look at the man standing in front of you.

“Do you know what you did wrong?”

The man bristles at your question. “They shorted me.”

“So you do know.” You comment lightly. “If the client doesn’t honor their end of the contract, then you report it and leave it to the organization to rectify it. You’re not to take personal action.”

He slams his hands on your desk and leans forward, snarling. “AND LET YOU HUMANS KEEP MAKING DECISIONS FOR US BEASTMEN?”

Your heart rate jolts and then rockets up when you see the man partially transform; wolf fur sprouts down his sideburns, his jaw lengthens to give the illusion of a muzzle, fangs slip out from under his lips, pointed ears appear on the top of his head, and most noticeably his voice gains an inhuman growl that layers his words. However, despite your racing heartbeat, your hands remain steady and your body is relaxed when you meet his animalistic pupils.

It was a mission a couple of years ago, some time after you turned of age, where your grandmother sent you out into the field to meet with an informant and retrieve their report. In her words, if you were to inherit her position and the organization, then you had to experience every aspect of the organization, from administration to fieldwork. Naturally, your grandmother still made sure you would be safe and sent your bodyguard, Osborn, with you.

However, what should have been a simple task rapidly escalated into a dangerous extraction mission when the informant was exposed and captured. You and Osborn spent a week to map out the safehouse where the informant was kept, the schedule of the guards, and confirm an entry and exit route. After everything was in place, all that was left was to execute the plan.

“Scared?” Osborn asked while checking over his equipment with an efficiency that bordered on ruthless.

“No,” you replied as you tried to tighten the straps of your protective vest and failed for the third time.

There was a beat of silence before a pair of callused hands knocked yours aside and corrected the fit of the vest for you. “Here’s a tip, beastmen can hear and smell physiological responses, so there’s no hiding anything and us beastmen value honesty.”

You looked up from your vest and crashed into a pair of sea-green eyes that burned bright with an unknown emotion. His pupils had contracted into the characteristic slit of beastmen in anticipation of the upcoming fight, but you had never been scared of these eyes. You held each other’s stare for a moment and just as he was about to withdraw his hands you grabbed the edge of his sleeve.

“I’m scared,”‌ you said, a hint of a challenge seeping into your tone.

Surprise flashed across‌ Osborn’s face, as if he wasn’t expecting you to be honest with him, but then he pulled his sleeve out of your grip to raise his hand to your head, ruffling your hair like you were younger than him despite how you were both the same age. “Danger has never been worth fearing, the source of fear lies in the unknown. But once you truly understand yourself and you’ve done all possible preparations, then the unknown and fear will disappear. So, the best way to confront danger is to learn to enjoy it. Besides, no matter what happens, you still have me.”

Oh. You understood the emotion you saw in his eyes earlier now. It was excitement.

Strangely, his words reassured some part of you and you found your trembling hands turn steady. In that pair of eyes that were as clear as an untouched lake in the mountains, you saw the reflection of your own eyes get touched by a similar excitement.

“OK, I’m ready now.”

The untouched lake in the mountains rippled with his smile, catching the sunlight and glimmering with something both of you weren’t ready to recognize yet.

It’s instinct for a fight or flight response to kick in when humans find themselves in front of an apex predator. But that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re scared. You embrace the adrenaline coursing through you and, without making any attempt to hide your pounding heartbeat, you stare unflinchingly into the eyes of the wolf beastman in front of you and you see his stance falter at your reaction.

“You clearly trust in the organization enough to remain here after my grandmother passed away and made me her successor. If you no longer agree with how I‌ run things, then the door is right behind you.”

There is a minute flinch from the beastman when you call out his bluff.

Unfortunately, despite the better treatment of beastmen presently, it wasn’t very long ago when humans had treated them as beasts of burden or pets. In fact, it was only more than a century ago that beastmen were given rights, but there were still many humans who were reluctant to accept them and this caused the beastmen to form groups of their own that tried to carve out spaces for themselves, legally or illegally. In response, humans reacted harshly and created segregated zones; however, there were also sympathetic humans who struck a compromise with beastmen and created organizations where they, in essence, vouched for beastmen and provided places for them to work and live without discrimination. The organization your grandmother founded and passed onto you is one of these, except that behind its public operations it also handles illegal commissions.

In short, if the beastman leaves he will have a hard time surviving on his own and will only be able to hope for another organization or group of beastmen to take him in. However, taking into account the illegal commissions your organization accepts, he likely has his fair share of enemies that will leap at the easy target of a lone wolf.

Your eyes turn cold. “If you’re done posturing, your punishment for acting on your own and breaking the rules is to be barred from taking any commissions and to report to the archives for a week. I hear they need more hands to revamp the database.”

The beastman reflexively raises his lip to bare his teeth but he wilts under your frigid stare and the wolf features withdraw seamlessly as he grits his teeth, nods in acknowledgment of his punishment, and turns around to storm out the door.

You look back down at the scattered report on your desk and sigh as you gather the papers together again and turn to pick up your tablet, steeling yourself for the headache-inducing task of resolving the mess the wolf beastman made. You have instructions to send to your executives.

There is a knock on the door when you are in the middle of a conversation with one of your executives and so you tell whoever it is outside to come in, but you don’t raise your eyes from the tablet screen. It’s a small power play for you to make whoever enters wait for you to give them your attention.

Five minutes later, after your executive confirms your orders and goes to carry them out, you flip your tablet over and look up only to see Osborn leaning against the door behind him, watching you with a smile on the corners of his lips.

“Osborn!? Why didn’t you say anything!”

You hurriedly stand up and round your desk. Last you heard, your boyfriend had been out completing a commission and wasn’t due back for another day.

Osborn steps forward to meet you, his eyes glimmering with amusement. “I was enjoying the scenery. Mn, as expected, my girlfriend is very pretty when she’s working seriously.”

A blush dusts your cheeks at his direct compliment and you cough into your fist to hide your own smile as you force yourself to sound stern. “Lift up your shirt.”

Osborn’s eyebrows fly up and he makes a show of looking around your office and over his shoulder at the closed door before asking, “Right here? You’re bold today.”

It takes a second for your brain to catch his implication and the faint blush on your face deepens into a bright red. This was something he clearly waited for, because Osborn grins like a mischievous boy who pulled off a successful prank.

“OSBORN!” You glare at him. “I’m checking to see if a certain someone is injured or not since he always loves to hide this from me. Lift up your shirt right now!”

“Tsk, imagine if someone heard that. You, the great leader of our organization, ordering me, a poor beastman, to lift his shirt up all alone in your office.” Even though Osborn continues to talk back, his hands reach down to pull his shirt out of his pants and raise the bottom of it to his collarbone.

The white incandescent ceiling lights in the underground office hide nothing and also cast a shine on the expanse of healthy wheat-colored skin that is suddenly exposed in front of you, giving it a marble-like sheen. Sleek. That is always the first word that pops into your mind whenever you see Osborn’s bare body; he has the classic triangle of broad shoulders that taper into a trim waist, but his height and long legs prevent him from looking bulky. Dangerous. That is the second word that follows after the first; Osborn’s body fat percentage is on the lower end and this causes his muscles to stand out in stark definition, drawing attention to all the coiled power in his frame. Temptation. That is the third word. Like the last dabs of ink on a work of art, there are four beauty marks on Osborn: one at the corner of his right eye, inviting you to kiss it; one on his collarbone, inviting you to suck it; and two right above his pelvis, inviting you to place your fingers on them and slide them down to trace the protruding vein on his lower abdomen to explore the depths that trail of hair below his navel leads—

You have to drag your attention off his body and refocus on searching for injuries. Happily, you don’t see any gashes, holes, burns, bandages, or stitches, even when you walk around to his back. There are only faint white scars scattered here and there that are unnoticeable unless you look closely or—and you know this through personal experience—when you run your hands over those tiny bumps. Like postage stamps, these scars record the places he’s walked, the sights he’s seen, and the situations he’s experienced.

Despite not being able to see you, Osborn seems to sense the downturn in your mood and he speaks up, “See?‌ Not a scratch. I’m much more careful with my life now.”

You give a noncommittal hum in response and finish your inspection to come back to stand in front of him. Then, before he can drop his shirt, you stick your left hand onto him right below his belly button, the tip of your thumb brushing against the waistband of his pants.

His body reflexively tenses but you feel him forcibly relax as you slide your hand up, traveling over the hills and valleys of his abdominal muscles, so that by the time your hand reaches his chest, your fingers sink into his skin rather than press into something as hard as steel. What was a boyfriend’s godly physique for other than to let his girlfriend ravage him like a stress toy?

You try your best to keep your lips flat and suppress the silly smitten smile that wants to appear, but you’re not sure you succeed when you feel the vibrations of Osborn’s chuckles, and then his shirt drops, draping over your hand that is still squeezing his chest, when he lets go to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you into his chest, trapping your arm between your bodies.

“Feeling better?”

“Hm?” You look up now that the scenery is covered and meet his sea-green eyes that are equal parts amused and concerned.

“When I came in, your face was all scrunched up at the tablet. Got something bothering you?”

You purse your lips when you’re reminded of what happened earlier. “You know how there’s always been some unrest after I took over, right? It seems to be getting worse.”

Ever since your grandmother passed away and you succeeded the organization, there were humans and beastmen who thought you were too young or that you would be a pushover. Your mother died early in your childhood due to an illness and your father chose to leave, wanting nothing to do with beastmen, and so you were raised by your grandmother.‌ When you were old enough to understand what the organization truly did, your grandmother had given you the choice to inherit her position or to leave like your father. You chose to stay because you shared her beliefs in working towards a future where humans and beastmen could be equals.

Osborn frowns. “I thought we dealt with most of them back then. Tell me who it is now and I’ll handle it.”

You shake your head. “No, that won’t solve the root of the problem.”

“But it’ll feel good,” he jokes.

His shameless response pulls a laugh out of you, which was probably his goal, and you raise your right hand to tap his nose, dodging the exaggerated snap of his teeth.

Osborn doesn’t insist on his suggestion because you both know it will only delay the issue. If he metes out punishment in your stead, then the other beastmen will only act obedient when he’s around, but the moment he’s gone they will test you again and even harder this time, believing that you’re hiding behind Osborn’s back. It’s instinct for beastmen to submit only to strength and, while you don’t blame them for being guided by their primal drive, it doesn’t make this any less of a headache.

As you pull your hand back your eyes land on the choker collar around Osborn’s neck.

The first time you met Osborn you were 11 years old and had just slipped out from under the watch of your bodyguard to explore the neighborhood while the adults had their boring meeting. Your grandmother had brought you on this trip to introduce you to the heads of other organizations, but there was nothing for you to do after that and your bodyguard didn’t want to play, so you could only take matters into your own hands.

You went on an adventure in the industrial district alone, climbing pipes, squeezing through holes in fences, and peeking into every nook and cranny of this concrete jungle. It was in the middle of this exploration that you suddenly heard the raucous laughter of other kids and followed the noise to a warehouse where you saw a group of boys using sticks and stones to bully a snarling black panther cub, although at the time you thought he was just a large black kitten.

Without a second thought, you shoved past the boys roughly and stood in front of the panther, spreading out your arms to protect him as you yelled at the boys to leave him alone. The kids told you that it was an evil beastman behind you, which only made you angrier and you picked up one of the rocks they threw at the panther to throw right back at them. The group of boys would have made you their next target if they hadn’t noticed the quality of your clothes and shoes and realized that they couldn’t afford to anger whichever family you were from.

After the bullies left, you wiped your sweaty hands on your dress and turned to the black panther who had quieted down. He gave a warning hiss when you walked over but was shocked into silence when you reached out to pet his head without any fear and cooed over his injuries. You even removed your hair ribbon to tie around his injured paw.

It took a while for your grandmother and the rest of your group to find you and, by that time, you had fallen asleep against the panther. You were only woken when he snarled loudly at anyone who tried to approach you and him. It was only when you were older that you learned the reason why no one tried to forcibly separate you two was because beastmen who lost control and returned to their beast forms were extremely dangerous, both to themselves and to others in their instinctive state.

Later, after you calmed everyone down and convinced your grandmother to help the black panther beastman get back on his feet, he ended up as your bodyguard, Osborn. You had argued with your grandmother over this because, in your child’s mind, having a beastman bodyguard went against what the organization stood for, but she refused to change her decision and so you could only set your sights on getting Osborn to be the one to reject this position.

As a child and then a teenager, Osborn had been reticent and extremely stubborn. When he joined the organization, he immediately chose to be a future bounty hunter in addition to being your bodyguard and so, whenever he was not on bodyguard duty, he would be training or running alongside the older and more experienced hunters on easy missions.

Whenever he was on bodyguard duty, you tried to escape his watch many times, hoping you could either annoy him enough to make him quit or get him in trouble with your grandmother, but no matter where you went he was always there right behind you. You remember losing your temper one day and throwing a collar at him, saying that if he was going to follow you around like a dog then he should look the part. This was your last resort in the hopes that a collar would be insulting enough to make him stop being your bodyguard. However, Osborn simply looked at the collar that had struck his chest and fallen to the ground, bent down to pick it up, and put it around his neck without a word.

It took a long period of time before you eventually confessed to him about your wish for his life not to revolve around you. You had always thought he was bound for freedom and that, like the color of his eyes, he was a staunch and resilient cedar tree on a wintry mountain, not needing to rely on anything or anyone but himself. This was when Osborn revealed that your grandmother gave him many options back then, but he was the one who chose to be a bounty hunter and requested to be your bodyguard.

After this misunderstanding was cleared, the distance between you two shortened greatly and the collar became something of an inside joke. At the beginning, there were beastmen who thought Osborn being collared meant he was weak, but after he repeatedly showed his dominance over them, there were less and less people who questioned his collar. Those who felt his fists knew not to doubt his strength and those who joined the organization later just assumed it was a strange quirk. Over time, the choker collar around Osborn’s neck became a familiar and unremarkable sight.

A sting that comes from your finger brings your meandering thoughts in the past back to the present and you see that Osborn has taken your right hand, put your finger into his mouth, and pressed a fang to it, not hard enough to break the skin but just hard enough to deliver a prick of pain.

“You’re not allowed to be absentminded around me,” He growls playfully.

You pull your finger out of his mouth and place it under his chin, pushing to tilt his head up. Osborn follows the action and bares his throat to you with a nonchalant smile on the edges of his lips.

“I wasn’t absentminded, I was considering our problem.”

You turn your finger over and slide it down Osborn’s chin and throat to run into the choker collar around his neck. An idea is sprouting in your mind. You only need to do something that can satisfy the primal instincts of beastmen to have them acknowledge you as being stronger than them, but who says it has to be a show of skill on your part?

“I recognize that look. You’re cooking something up in that brain of yours.” The vibration of his vocal cords passes through the collar to your finger.

“If I ask you to cooperate with me no matter what I do, would you?”

“Naturally, but what do I get out of it?”

“A favor for a favor.”

His eyes sharpen with interest. Normally, whenever you two play this game of “payment”‌ the expectation is a meal, a hug, a kiss, or maybe bedtime activities, to give a favor as payment means you’re planning something large or something you feel might be an imposition on him.

Osborn tilts his head and reaches up to remove your hand from his throat, intertwining his fingers with yours, before he gives you a slow smile. “Oh?‌ Should I‌ be worried now?”

You give him a fierce look. “Just tell me whether you’ll accept or not.”

“OK, OK, of course I accept, when have I not obeyed my girlfriend?” He chuckles and lowers his head to nuzzle his nose against your nose.

===

Several days later, after Osborn’s mission report arrives in your email inbox, the opportunity you’ve been waiting for appears.

You send a text to Osborn, telling him you’re calling in the favor and that you need him to be at The Pit this evening. He responds with a sticker of a black panther cub sitting with polite paws and saluting with its tail. The sticker is so cute you can’t help but send a row of emojis of a hand with its palm down to express petting. He replies again with an animated sticker where the panther cub reaches up to grab a hand and pulls it down onto its head. You’re unable to suppress the smile that stretches across your face as you turn off the screen.

The Pit is a local hangout for beastmen in the organization, functioning as a pub that serves food as well as a place for beastmen to gather, exchange information, or simply unwind and have fun. Humans are naturally allowed but, due to the large presence of predators there, they don’t frequent the place. All of this serves your objective though and you carefully pick out your weapons for tonight, demanding perfection from your choice of clothes to your makeup.

By the time you make your way to The Pit, you can already hear loud noise spilling through the closed doors into the hallway. The pub is at its peak hours and more packed than usual, on account of it being a‌ Friday night, and just five minutes earlier Osborn had sent you a sticker of the panther cub peeking out from behind a wall, clearly wondering where you are.

Stopping at the door, you allow yourself one deep inhale and exhale. This is going to be the performance of a lifetime. And then you push open the door and step inside.

There is a lull in activity when the beastmen catch sight of you, but conversations quickly resume, quieter than before though since many are evidently curious about your presence here. Humans are already rare enough in The Pit, to say nothing of the boss of the organization coming here. You ignore the gazes and scan the interior of the pub, searching for and finding Osborn in an armchair in the corner, and stride over to him, although you nearly pause when you see that he’s not wearing a shirt under his cropped leather jacket for some reason.

Osborn is in the middle of raising a glass of whiskey to his lips when he catches sight of you and you see him stop to take you in over the rim of the glass, his eyes moving up slowly from your heels to the black knee-length side-slit skirt, the navy underbust corset with subtle embroidery, the white chemise blouse, and the black overcoat draped over your shoulders that fans out behind you. You know you’re the very image of an elegant businesswoman, but the most important points of your outfit are your bright red heels, your bright red lips, and the way the embroidery on your corset catches the dim lights and shimmers gold-red. In the animal world, bright colors are associated with danger and right now you’re asserting that you’re the largest danger in this room.

You plant your feet in front of Osborn’s chair and throw the papers in your hand at him, letting it scatter in his lap. You deliberately printed out his mission report for this dramatic move. Osborn blinks and glances at the papers before lifting his eyes to yours and raising an eyebrow.

“Do you know what you did wrong?”‌‌‌ You open the conversation.

He gathers the report leisurely, skims the first page, and then sets it on the side table next to him. “I don’t.”

“I specifically told you to keep collateral damage low.”

He chuckles. “That was low.”

Out of patience with his back talk, you lift your foot and step right on his crotch, leaning forward to make your stance more aggressive and to loom over him.

He stills.

Sharp inhales come from the surrounding beastmen watching this show, but only you and Osborn know that the majority of your weight is at the front of your foot with the flat bottom and not the painful spike of the heel. Still, the sight is deceptive and this is exactly what you want.

“Don’t test my patience. Explain yourself, now,” you command.

“… They insulted you.”

“And? What, do you want praise for disobeying me to defend my honor? I can deal with them myself, but what do you think it looks like when a beastman in my organization disregards my direct instructions?”

You twist your foot, making it look like you’re grinding down on his groin although you aren’t using any strength, but to your surprise you can feel a change in the large mound under your shoe as it slowly expands and hardens. His chest is also rising and falling more prominently as his breathing deepens. You shoot your boyfriend a glance, asking him with your eyes if he’s seriously getting turned on at a time like this. Osborn looks back at you innocently, as if saying he can’t control his body’s honest reaction.

Then he reveals his beast ears and tail.

Osborn rarely shows his black panther traits in front of you for some reason and so this scene arrests your attention. Velvety black ears sprout from the top of his head before they immediately swivel backwards to give the illusion of his displeasure. A long, thick, black tail also appears and trails down from the leather armchair, the tip curling and uncurling.

Your distraction seems to be sensed and it’s Osborn’s touch when he wraps his left hand around your leg, just a bit below your knee, that brings you back to your senses. He’s still in character, an impertinent smile playing on the corners of his lips, but you can see the encouragement in his eyes for you to continue the act.

“You’re stepping on thin ice, little wildcat.” He layers his words with the characteristic growl of when a beastman’s control lessens.

You smile slowly—viciously. “I think you’re misunderstanding something here.”

And then you unleash your secret weapon. Your hand flashes forward to snap the hook of the leash, which you had wrapped around your arm to hide in your sleeve, onto the buckle of Osborn’s choker collar, and then you let a suitable length of the chain leash slide through your fingers before you catch the end of it and shoot your hand into the air, yanking Osborn’s head up and forcing his throat to be bared to you.

His glass of whiskey drops out of his hand and shatters on the ground.

It’s the only sound in the suddenly dead silent pub.

“If I say something is blue, then it’s blue. If I say it’s a clear day then it’s a clear day, even if it’s raining. If I tell you to go east, then you’re not to even look west. You can offer suggestions, you can offer opinions, but when I‌ give orders, you obey, because I am the law here. Do you understand?”

You see Osborn’s pupils dilate enormously, the calm surface of those malachite eyes consumed by the black of desire, and he swallows at your actions and words. Hard. His tail curls tightly and then unfurls to smack the side of the armchair rhythmically, revealing how he’s in a state of high stimulation.

“Do you understand?” You repeat, tugging the leash for emphasis.

There’s a constant vibration that travels through the leash to your hand, like Osborn is growling but it’s at a frequency too low for you to hear with your human ears. “… Yes.”

Everyone knows the significance of a bared throat. To reveal one’s throat is a sign of utter submission and no one can get near Osborn’s throat if he doesn’t allow them. So, for you to easily manhandle Osborn, the number one bounty hunter in the organization, cements your position above him. Any beastman will instinctively recoil at showing their throat to someone they don’t regard as being above them, whether that’s through choice or force. And here is Osborn, watching your performance with a heat in his eyes that threatens to engulf you.

Your mouth abruptly goes dry and you need to work to keep your voice level. “You’re not allowed to remove this leash until I‌ say so. It’s your punishment for disobeying my instructions this time.”

You lower your hand, pull your leg out of his loose hold to remove your foot from his crotch, and toss the rest of the chain leash into his lap. Your intent was to help him hide his erection, but when a low grunt escapes his lips at the impact of the leash dropping onto him, you send him a quick apologetic and guilty look. Then you turn on your heel and stride towards the door of the pub.

The stares and deafening silence from the rest of the beastmen descends on you and just as your steps are about to stutter from this weight you hear a voice.

“What, never seen someone get reprimanded? Stop staring and go back to what you were all doing,” Osborn drawls without a trace of embarrassment or anger in his voice.

His words immediately take attention off of you and you walk out of The‌ Pit without any mishaps.

===

Ever since your display at The Pit, you had no more incidents with the beastmen in the organization. Everyone gives you the respect you are due, if not even more. For example, the herbivore beastmen, who used to be neutral or friendly towards you, are all nervous around you now, as if you’re some kind of apex predator who will eat them at the next moment.

Oh, wait, there was one incident that happened afterwards and it was that you weren’t able to leave your bed the next day after Osborn visited you that very night to show his true response to your performance at The Pit.

These were all minor happenings though. The greatest trouble you’re currently facing is that Osborn’s birthday is tomorrow and you’re still torn on your list of presents for him. You already have a stack of boxes in one of the side rooms, filled with items that caught your eye throughout the year that you thought would suit Osborn. But these are all material objects and you know he doesn’t place much importance on those, instead the best thing to give him is something intangible, like an experience. The one thing that does come to your mind turns your cheeks red, but it’s also what you’ve been conflicted about for all these weeks.

Forget it, tomorrow you’ll take things one step at a time and decide whether or not to give Osborn his last present at the end of the day after the itinerary you have planned.

Turning off the lights, you set your phone alarm and head to bed early so that you can wake up at midnight to wish Osborn a happy birthday.

……

… You open your eyes in the darkness.

You don’t know how long you slept, but given how your bedroom is still dark not a lot of time must have passed. You aren’t exactly sure what woke you up, but you trust your instincts and so you keep your body relaxed and feign sleep while you strain your ears to catch any noise.

There. It’s the rustle of clothes as someone approaches your bed on silent feet.

Underneath your pillow, you wrap your fingers around the hilt of a dagger, inwardly calculating the distance of when you should attack. The intruder stops at the edge of your bed and makes no other movement for a while—it’s so silent you can hear their breathing deepen irregularly. Is it out of nervousness?‌ Or excitement?

Then you feel the bed dip from the weight of their knee pressing down on it and this is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for. You whirl around, simultaneously pulling the sheath off of the dagger, and stab at the intruder. However, they seem unsurprised at your action and accurately grab and twist your wrist to make you drop the dagger. Undeterred, you’ve already curled your legs to launch a kick at their solar plexus. But they also seem to have predicted this and throw their weight onto your bent legs to stop them from kicking out.

The both of you crash down onto the bed and you’re about to headbutt them when you catch a whiff of damp black cedarwood at the same time you hear a familiar voice.

“Xiao Five, it’s me.”‌ Osborn grunts.

You immediately relax. “Osborn? Why did you sneak into my room and not say anything?‌ Don’t you know that’s dangerous?”

He lets go of your wrist but he doesn’t reply or move his weight off of you and this is when you notice his abnormality. His body temperature is much higher than usual and his breathing has become uneven as he nuzzles your neck, sniffing deeply. The strands of his hair that brush against your jaw and cheek are slightly wet, as if he came here right after taking a shower.

“Osborn?‌ Are you OK?‌”

“You still owe me a favor, right? I’m calling it in. Will you spend my heat with me?”‌ His voice has already gone husky, but when you unconsciously stiffen he presses light kisses to your neck in reassurance and doesn’t do anything further.

You and Osborn have been intimate together many times, but you’ve never spent his heat with him because you know it carries a heavy significance for beastmen. You feel like it’s something that can’t be done thoughtlessly and Osborn has always respected your stance on all things. In fact, at the start of the relationship, he told you with a seldom seen seriousness that, as a beastman, he would instinctively make all sorts of advances towards you, but you had the right to refuse him at any stage and he would wait until you gave him the green light. When you pointed out how this could be unfair to him, he had only laughed, scuffed your nose with a finger, and said you only needed to consider yourself.

There is no doubt this is simply another tentative advance from him and, if you refuse him here, he will immediately back off and deal with his heat by himself. He only brought up the favor to give you an excuse to use, in case you’re too embarrassed to directly agree.

You breathe in deeply and think about many things, about Osborn’s birthday tomorrow, about your last present to him, about how certain you are that he is the person you want to walk with to the end of your life, and then exhale as you wrap your arms around him. “Okay.”

It takes a moment for Osborn to react, as if he wasn’t expecting for you to agree, and he even pulls back to examine your expression. “You’re willing?”

You stare directly into his mint-green eyes and nod. “I am.”

Then you close your eyes and prepare to be pounced on by an uncontrollable beast in heat. Except you only hear Osborn laugh quietly. You open your eyes again to see him grab the dagger on the bed and set it on the side table, turning on the lamp there for dim lighting, before he pulls off his shirt he threw on after his shower with one hand and then grabs you by the waist with both hands to lift you onto him as he turns to lie down on his back, letting you straddle his waist.

“Let’s kiss for a while first.” Happiness is clear in the curve of his eyebrows and eyes as he places a hand on your nape and pulls you down to kiss you.

Osborn’s lips are on the thin side, giving him an unapproachable air when they’re pressed into a flat line on an expressionless face, but only you know their softness. He licks your mouth and then presses his lips to yours, rubbing them together until they slide wetly against each other, and then he pulls your lower lip into his mouth to suck on it. When you naturally part your mouth, wanting to rescue your lip, he seizes this opening to dive into your mouth with his tongue.

You feel the hot spray of breath from his nose on your cheek when he tilts his head for a deeper angle, his tongue inviting yours into a dance that sends tingles through your body. You pant as his hands begin to roam across your body and run down your back, igniting all your sensitive spots with familiarity, before they slip under your silk camisole to caress the skin of your waist. The heat from his palms sears you and the calluses on his fingers spark a fire that melts your body.

It doesn’t take long until you’re boneless on top of him, exchanging wet kisses, and there’s a stickiness between your legs that makes you twist your hips, rubbing yourself against his abdomen with an inaudible mewl.

“It must feel frustrating through the cloth, why don’t you take off your underwear?” Osborn coaxes against your lips, his breathing ragged.

Your mind is already hazy with pleasure and so you obey his suggestion without a second thought, rising onto your knees with one hand on his chest for support while the other reaches down to pull off your underwear. A string of wetness stretches between your nether regions and your panties as you push them down before it eventually snaps and Osborn’s eyes darken at the sight.

Finally getting rid of your underwear, you sit back onto his abdomen and grind against him, leaving glimmering trails over that spot.

“Osborn…” You lean down to lick the underside of his chin.

How can he not know what you want after all the time you’ve spent together? But Osborn closes his eyes and clenches his jaw tightly to restrain the raging heat in him. “Not yet, you need to be wetter.”

“Aren’t you… in heat?” You roll your hips with a hitch in your words, feeling the pleasurable way the folds of your pussy run over the ridges of his muscles.

“Xiao Five, we’re making love, there’s no rush.” He presses a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth before he chuckles. “Besides, don’t you know how much I‌ can endure?”

You do. You probably know better than anyone else. In the bedroom, this man insists on making you orgasm multiple times before he even cums once and, abruptly, this makes you feel a spike of annoyance. What’s he so proud for? If he wants to endure his heat so badly, then you would like to see just how much he can endure.

Sitting up again, you scratch down his chest lightly and enjoy the hiss and jerk of his body when your nails scrape over his nipples. Then you reach behind to palm and squeeze his bulging package before you push down the waistband of his sweatpants along with his briefs to free his cock, which swings up and smacks against your butt, sprinkling droplets of pre-cum on you.

“Mgh…!” Osborn’s hands on your waist flex, but ultimately he doesn’t do anything and just watches you with a heavy, burning gaze. There’s a thin layer of sweat on his face and a fetching flush of arousal at the outer corners of his eyes.

You lift yourself up and tease the head of his member, stroking it against your vagina, before you let it slide past your entrance and press it down to sit on its shaft, sandwiching it between your bodies, and move your hips back and forth. You’re so wet it doesn’t take more than two passes until the sticky wet noise of you rubbing yourself against him echoes in the room, making your ears red enough to drip blood, but you’re urged on by the way Osborn’s lips part as he pants heavily, his chest rising and falling noticeably while you satisfy yourself on him.

When your clitoris catches on the crown of his penis, the bolt of pleasure that strikes you makes you squeeze your legs around his hips hard and moan. Osborn exhales audibly, the last note so low it comes out as a growl and you can’t tell if it’s a warning or an encouragement. But since you’re intentionally provoking him, you ignore him and continue to grind your swollen nub into him.

His cock is hot between your legs and you can almost feel the vein on it pulsing as even more blood rushes into it, making it larger and harder. The slit at the top occasionally weeps, dripping more pre-cum onto Osborn’s lower abdomen along with your juices and soaking the hair down there.

Before long, you tense and mewl as the wave of your orgasm crashes over you and then you slump forward onto his chest, trembling and gasping for air. Osborn tugs you up enough to catch your mouth in a punishing kiss, biting your lips out of sexual frustration, but he also strokes your damp back soothingly to guide you down from your climax.

You lap at his lips with your tongue until he opens his mouth to let you in and gentles his kiss. Just as your tongue wraps around his though, you feel his fingers press into your vagina, making you give a full body shiver.

“Mm, I don’t want your fingers.” You wiggle your hips in objection even though you feel your hole clench down on them.

Osborn pulls his fingers out with an embarrassingly wet pop and then he taps your butt with his palm. “Greedy kitten. I can barely fit in two fingers right now.”

Without letting you say anything else, you feel his core muscles tighten into steel below you and then the world goes spinning as he flips you and reverses your positions so that he’s on top while your back is flat on the bed. When you’re still blinking up at the ceiling, trying to process what just happened, he pushes your camisole up with a hand and lowers his head to your breast, enclosing its peak with his mouth and sinking two fingers into your pussy entirely to their base.

You cry out at the dual assault of pleasure and your legs instinctively try to close, but Osborn’s broad chest is between your thighs and keeps them open. He speaks around the nipple in his mouth. “Be good, it won’t take long.”

He pulls sounds out of you like a skilled musician as he teases your nipple, drawing circles around it with the tip of his tongue, flicking it, pushing it down hard, and then letting it pop out only to lightly close his teeth around it and tug. When he begins sucking loudly, making you dig your toes into the bed and quiver, you barely notice him spreading his fingers in your channel, stretching it.

However, you do whimper when you feel the tight fit of him pressing a third finger into you. Osborn releases your nipple, which has hardened into a bright red pebble, and moves to your neglected breast while purring reassuringly. The vibration from his throat when he wraps his lips around your other nipple makes your nether regions clench and release another surge of wetness.

Osborn rotates his wrist and moves his fingers slowly. He raises his head from your chest to give you an open-mouthed kiss before he pulls away to examine your expression and make sure you aren’t in any enormous discomfort. Feeling reassured by your misty eyes and the moans that escape your lips he begins to thrust his fingers in earnest, curling them slightly to scuff the spongy area at the top of your passage close to the entrance.

You shout as the lapping tides of pleasure turn into a giant wave that drags you under. He nuzzles your sweaty temple and captures your ear in his mouth, teasing the sensitive lobe with his tongue, and then pants right there, knowing how much his voice turns you on. He’s rewarded when your pussy contracts around his fingers.

“Cum one more time for me, hm?” His voice is gravelly beyond belief.

The squelching sound of your slick and how it splashes onto the bed sheet, his palm, and your thighs with his rapid movements is drowned out by the rushing blood in your ears as you climb up once more to the peak of an orgasm. You arch your back and your legs are so tense they tremble.

Fireworks go off behind your closed eyes.

Osborn yanks out his fingers and then presses them to the top of your mound, rubbing slippery circles there to prolong your pleasure. The bed sheet under your crotch has darkened an entire shade.

Faintly, after you shakily drop back onto the bed, you feel Osborn remove your clothes completely and then there’s a rustle as he strips off his own. You come back to yourself with a quiver when you feel the heavy head of his penis land between the folds of your vagina and slide back and forth.

“Osborn…” Your voice is watery.

He grabs your waist with one hand to hold you in place while his other hand directs his cock to your hole. “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll give it to you right now.”

Osborn shakes his head to get his damp bangs out of his eyes as he lowers them to watch himself enter you, wanting to make sure there’s no tearing. His entire body gleams with a layer of sweat and veins stand out prominently on his arms and lower abdomen with how much he’s restraining himself to go slow.

There is an uncomfortable stretch when his tip pushes in, but the emptiness deep in your body drives your pussy to squeeze down and suck on him greedily. Osborn groans lowly and has to pause when his scalp and lower back tightens at this pleasure.

Finally, when his entire length is sheathed in you, you both let out sighs of satisfaction.

“Still okay?” Osborn strokes your waist and his palm is scorching hot.

Every breath you exhale feels like steam. “Mhm…”

Osborn begins to move slowly, not pulling out too far and not pushing in too deep. The dim light from the side table lamp casts a glow that softens his sharp contours and reflects off his feline eyes and the buckle of his choker collar, but something niggles at the back of your mind even as he picks up the pace after he sees how your hips chase after his.

It takes a moment for you to notice, especially when your thoughts get interrupted every time he thrusts in deeply, but there’s a blur around the top of his head, like the air there is hazy. You stretch a hand out unconsciously, wanting to touch it, and Osborn mistakenly thinks you’re reaching for him. He grabs your hand, nuzzles his cheek against your palm, and then he interlocks your hands together and leans down to place your hand above your head, kissing you as he increases his speed.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes obscenely in the room as he drives his pelvis into yours, and you can no longer think, you can only cling onto him and turn your head, breaking the kiss, to bite his shoulder as another orgasm crashes over you.

The explosion in your mind drives out all your thoughts.

Osborn pounds into you a dozen more times before he buries his head into the crook of your neck and releases into you with a muffled groan. The hot splash of ejaculation inside you makes you shiver and your passage convulses around him even as he continues to move in and out slowly, drawing out his climax. Osborn turns his head to pepper the side of your neck with soft kisses between his irregular breaths, but his body is still completely taut like a strung bow.

Oh, you know what it is that bothers you now.

“Osborn…”‌ You push at him until he pulls away to look at you questioningly.

“What’s wrong? Are you uncomfortable anywhere?”

“No, it’s not that.” Your hand slides to the front of his neck, where his choker collar rests, and then you remove it and toss it off the bed where it hits the ground with a thump. “You don’t have to restrain yourself.”

Osborn stills.

And then he pulls out of you and flips you over roughly. You yelp out of surprise and scramble to your hands and knees only to freeze when his right hand lands heavily next to yours on the bed and his scorching hot chest presses to your back as his penis, which is erect again, bumps against your entrance.

Osborn’s voice is the guttural growl of an unleashed beastman. “Are you sure?”

You lower your head to look down your body and see that a sinuous black panther tail is swaying next to your thigh. Osborn pushes himself into your folds and then pulls away again, as if kissing your slit with his cock, and the squishing noises this makes deepens the flush on your body. Your vagina contracts and a glob of his cum mixed with your slick is squeezed out and slides down your leg.

You are his willing prey. “Yes.”

A soundless shout is torn out of you when he slams his length into you without any warning and you arch your back. Your passage has already accustomed itself to his size and so you don’t feel any pain, just the mind-numbing pleasure of this new angle. Lewd cries you didn’t think were possible to make are drawn from you as he hammers into you and so you raise your left hand to shove a fist against your mouth. However, Osborn pulls it down and forces his fingers between yours while he presses your hand into the bed.

His breath burns your ear. “Don’t hide. I want to hear you.”

Suddenly, his cock strikes a spot inside you that makes your entire body jerk and you immediately pull away from him, frightened by that sensation. His right arm wraps around your waist like a steel bar though and he hauls you back to drive his member into the deepest part of you, grinding against your cervix as punishment. You struggle instinctively and claw at his arm with your right hand when bolts of pleasure and pain send tremors through your body.

But then Osborn raises his left hand, splays it out between your shoulder blades, and forces your upper body down into the bed, snarling so loudly the room seems to shake.

“Where do you think you’re running?”

“Not… running… It’s too deep…” You gasp with physiological tears hanging on your eyelashes as your shaking body calms from his lack of movement.

Osborn considers you for a moment and then you hear a low chuckle before he inhales deeply behind your ear, parsing the scent of your arousal. “I get it, you’re feeling so much your body can’t help but run away. So all I need to do is pin you down.”

And then he drags you down into a violent rapture.

He keeps his left hand on your back while he holds up your waist with his right arm, ensuring each of his thrusts enters you deeply at this angle until you’re a sopping mess. You can only clench your hands into the bed sheet and endure his assault with an open mouth. His hips are like a piston as he snaps them against you and his balls slap wetly against your thighs until the tender skin there turns pink. Even the wetness that leaks nonstop from your entrance gains a foamy white edge.

There’s a pressure swelling up in you like a balloon and this brings a sense of unknown terror. What’s even more alarming is that you can feel something large press insistently against your hole every time Osborn sinks himself as deep as he can go and rolls his hips, as if he’s trying to push something into your narrow passage. You turn your head with difficulty between each mewl and gasp and see a bulb with short spines at the base of his cock.

You begin to tremble intensely again and shake your head on the pillow that’s already damp with your tears and saliva. “No, no, that won’t fit.”

“Yes, it can. You can take it. You just need to relax more.” Osborn removes his hand and sucks on your shoulders, leaving a trail of red marks. His and your sweat slide down your back.

He reaches down to push back the hood on your clitoris and you choke on a cry when something wiry brushes against this sensitive bundle of nerves, making your eyes roll back into your head. Your pussy clenches down so tight that Osborn has to stop moving and bite back a curse.

“Didn’t I tell you to relax? How come you’re even tighter now?”‌

You can’t respond and, in fact, you can’t put any strength into your body with the pleasure wracking through you. If it weren’t for Osborn’s arm holding your waist up, you would have slumped into the bed long ago. Looking down, you see that he’s rubbing your clit with his tail while he resumes slamming his hips into you, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. The balloon in you continues to expand until, finally, the pressure is too much and it pops.

You squirt for the first time.

The clear liquid shoots out of you like a fountain, again and again every time your passage convulses, and it completely soaks Osborn’s tail. His tail reflexively shakes, like the tip of a rattlesnake, to get off the wetness but this just scatters it all over the bed. At the same time, he manages to shove the bulb at the base of his cock into you with a wet squelch and then ejaculates with a low roar.

The searing hot cum that strikes your walls makes you jolt and you try to get away from that feeling, but the penile spines on his bulb rake over the sensitive spots at your entrance and you sob, writhing, as another orgasm tears through you, making you squirt again.

“Pull it out, pull it out, it’s too much…”

Osborn has to drop his chest onto your back, crushing you into the bed with his weight to keep you still, and soothes you with words you can’t catch as you shake violently underneath him at the feeling of his release being pumped into you. Even though trickles of mixed cum seep out of where you’re connected, your abdomen is slightly sore, as if it’s been stretched.

“We’re locked together, moving will just make it worse. It’ll be over soon, you’re doing so good. You can take it, you can take all of me. That’s my girl.”

He turns your head and licks away the tears at the corners of your eyes before kissing you repeatedly until you respond by lapping at his lips. He draws your tongue into his mouth, sucking on it gently, and only then do you feel your drifting consciousness settle back into your body.

However, when Osborn turns to his side, bringing you with him, you shudder and dig your nails into the arm he has around your waist. “No more, no more… please, Osborn…”

“I won’t, I‌ won’t. I’m just helping you feel better,”‌ Osborn murmurs, breathing heavily as you unconsciously squeeze him. After his orgasm, his penis had softened a little, but being locked inside your wet warmth isn’t easy for him to bear either.

He runs his hand over you at your waist reassuringly and then reaches up to caress your breast while kissing your neck. His other hand reaches down and his fingers delve through the cute bush there to massage your mound lightly.

“Focus on my touch, that’s it.”

His body is like a furnace behind you, warming the pleasure into small pleasant waves that soak your whole body, and his gentle ministrations ease the discomfort in your abdomen as your attention converges on the actions of his hands and the way his lips travel down the curve of your neck, planting tender kisses.

Before you know it, you begin to rotate your hips a little to his movements and mewl with a shiver when his penile spines stroke the walls of your passage.

Osborn laughs huskily and asks, “Little kitten wants more?”

“Mm…”

He moves his hand a little lower, sandwiches your clit between his middle and ring finger, and moves his palm up and down in short rapid movements, stimulating the entire area. Simultaneously, his other hand that was playing with your breast pinches your nipple and tugs. You give another pleased hum.

A short while later, you come apart in his arms again. The orgasm this time isn’t violent and instead it’s like a hot shower that pours down on you. For a second, the wetness that gushes through your channel has nowhere to exit and makes the soreness in your abdomen worse, but then your body relaxes on him completely and, as your awareness floats off, you do feel better.

Osborn’s chest heaves up and down behind you as his muscles tremble with restraint to stop his hips from moving at the contractions of your pussy. He bites down on your shoulder and grinds his teeth over a patch of skin until a new red mark blooms.

You two lie there and catch your breaths and, eventually, his bulb softens enough to be pulled out with a wet noise. Your juices and his cum strive to rush out of your hole first and it almost feels like you lost control of your bladder and wet yourself, making you turn to him and bury your head into his chest out of embarrassment.

Osborn thinks you’re just looking for more intimacy and so he strokes your back and then cups your face in both hands to raise your head to share a slow kiss with you, purring all the while.

When you feel his revitalized cock nudge against your entrance again though, you quickly place your hands flat on his chest and push at him.

“Baby, I’m still in the middle of my heat,” Osborn pulls back and growls warningly.

“I’m thirsty,”‌ you say with a scratchy voice and raise your chin at him.

Just as you expect, he stops moving his waist and contrition flashes across his eyes. He lets you go to sit up and you seize this opportunity to climb off the bed first. Your legs are wobbly, but you can still stand on your own. However, the feeling of wetness sliding down your legs gives you pause.

Osborn must think you can’t walk because the next thing you know he scoops you up in one arm, making you exclaim and cling onto his shoulders to balance yourself. Heat rushes to your cheeks at how his hand is on your butt and thus touching the mess there, but he doesn’t seem to care or even give a sign of noticing it.

He carries you into the kitchen, turns the lights on low, sets you down at the kitchen bar counter, and goes around it to get water for you. It’s only when you cough loudly and pointedly though that he sheepishly goes to wash his hands first before he takes down your couples cup from the cabinet and pours a glass of filtered water for you, making sure it’s at room temperature. He sets the glass of water next to your hand and then goes to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator for himself.

Your eyes can’t help but stay on him when he twists the bottle cap off and raises his head to guzzle the water, revealing the strong line of his throat and his bobbing Adam’s apple as he swallows. His skin is flushed pink from his earlier exertions and you watch, entranced, as a sweat droplet rolls down the swell of his chest, the mountain range of his abdominal muscles, and disappears into the trail of hair below his navel.

His lower half is just as much of a mess as yours and the two moles at his hip almost sparkle from how wet they are. His cock stands upright against his lower abdomen and bobs slightly in time with his breaths. Your throat is suddenly even drier and you avert your eyes.

You don’t want to sit on the counter stools because of the stickiness between your legs and so you lean forward, resting your forearms on the cool counter, and clasp the water glass between both hands to take small sips. The liquid wets your scratchy throat and you can feel yourself becoming refreshed again.

You’re so invested in drinking your water that you don’t see Osborn finish off his, set aside the empty bottle, and come back around to you.

Osborn’s intention is just to hug you and wait for you to finish your glass of water, but when he sees your swaying butt and your glistening hole, where trickles of his ejaculation still slide down your leg from time to time, his pupils dilate and his throat tightens. He swallows. Hard.

One second you’re drinking water and the next you hear and feel Osborn sigh contentedly as his entire length slides into your pussy. There is no resistance as your body rises to its toes and welcomes his cock greedily, knowing the pleasure it can bring. You quiver and nearly choke on your water.

“What are, mm… you doing?”

He moves leisurely, doing one deep thrust for every nine shallow thrusts. “You can ignore me and just keep drinking.”

“How am I supposed, mngh… to drink with… you doing that?” You gasp.

Osborn bends down, takes the glass of water from you, drinks a mouthful, and turns his head to feed you the water. But you can’t swallow fast enough as you try to drink and breathe between his thrusts, and so the water spills out from the corners of your lips and down your chin.

“Why do both your mouths love to leak so much water?” Osborn laughs while he licks and sucks away the water around your mouth and chin.

In a fit of pique, you lower your head and bite right down on the mole at his collarbone, leaving a pretty row of teeth marks around the black dot there.

“Hss, they both love to bite too.” He slams his hips into you and stays there, grinding against you and making you arch your back and moan. “But I prefer being bitten by the mouth down here more.”

He begins to pound into you in earnest and in the kitchen there is only the sound of damp skin slapping against damp skin, your intermittent cries and his low groans, and the pitter-patter of liquid dripping onto the floor underneath where you and him are joined.

Osborn slides his hands down your sides to rest them on your waist. “Baby, raise your hips a little higher.”

The height difference between you two means you need to rise to your toes for him, but your legs tremble with strain at this and at the pleasure that assaults your body, so your waist constantly drops down. This repeats for some time with Osborn having to remind you to raise your hips but you being unable to maintain this position for long.

Finally, as if reaching the end of his tether, he grabs the knee of one of your legs and pulls it up. With your legs wide open, this new and deeper angle he strikes you at makes you moan loudly, but when a particularly hard thrust shoves you against the counter and your breasts are pushed into the cold marble, you jolt and clench down on him so hard that he has trouble moving.

“Gngh, are you trying to snap me in half?” Osborn’s tail lashes from side to side and you hear it thump several times against the legs of a counter stool.

“The counter… is too cold…” You pant in protest.

He eyes your position and then grabs one of your wrists with his free hand so that he can pull you away from the counter. You feel as if your body isn’t your own and that you’re under his complete control with your arm and leg in his hands and spread open entirely for him to plunder. Every time his cock slams into you, making your juices splash against your thigh and his abdomen, you writhe uncontrollably and your passage contracts around him tightly, reluctant to let him leave.

Soon, an orgasm rips through you and you squirt, the clear liquid spraying all over the floor. Osborn thrusts a couple more times before he shoves his bulb into you again and ejaculates deep inside you with a low snarl. By now, you’re so exhausted that your body doesn’t do more than twitch at the feeling of his hot semen filling your pussy.

Osborn unconsciously tightens his hands around your wrist and leg hard enough to leave bruises as pleasure runs through his body and, when he remembers to let go, you slump over entirely onto the counter. He rubs your wrist in apology and leans down to nuzzle and kiss you.

Abruptly, he laughs breathlessly. “I guess all that water you drank just now was for nothing.”

You shoot him a glare and Osborn immediately wipes the amusement off his face and grabs the glass of water to feed you the remaining water obediently by mouth without any other intentions.

Right after you finish the last mouthful of water, and he rubs his lips against yours affectionately, his bulb softens enough for him to pull out. You hear the splatter of fluids dropping onto the floor as he moves away, but you’re too tired to be embarrassed and instead you just make a mental note to order Osborn to clean everything up tomorrow. He made the mess so it’s his responsibility.

Osborn picks you up to walk back to the bedroom and you see his cock slowly rise up again out of the corner of your eye, so you merely lean your head onto his and close your eyes to try and catch whatever rest you can from this short trip.

However, something velvety continues to brush against your cheek and, when you open your eyes, you see that one of his panther ears is flicking next to you, maybe because your breath is landing on it. Out of an unknown impulse, you lean forward and wrap your lips around the tip of his ear.

Osborn stumbles in his steps and then turns his head to bite the underside of your breast hard enough to make you let go of his ear and cry out. “Ow!”

He growls, “Do you want to be fucked to death?”

You jut out your bottom lip. “You never show your ears or tail around me! Can’t I be curious?”

He falls silent the rest of the way to the bed and you think that’s the end of the conversation and prepare yourself to be pounced on and devoured by a beast after Osborn sets you down, except that he surprisingly takes a seat in front of you and looks at you with an odd expression, something of a cross between confusion and hesitation.

“Are you really curious about my ears and tail?”

“Of course!”

The tip of Osborn’s black tail curls and uncurls on the bed and your eyes track the movement. Then he deliberately swishes his tail and chuckles when your eyes also dart from left to right.

“Why haven’t you ever shown any sign of this?”

This time it’s your turn to fall silent and you squirm a little. “I thought it’d be rude to stare or ask to touch them. Plus, wouldn’t it be like asking to touch someone’s arm or leg? Weird.”

Osborn bursts out in laughter. “As if I’ve ever refused you touching any part of my body.”

He has you there. A blush heats up your cheeks.

“Do you want to touch them?”

“Yes!”

Osborn lowers his head before you and you stretch out a hand to run a fingertip over the tip of a furry black ear. The moment you do though it flicks away and Osborn grunts. “That tickles. You can use more strength.”

He’s the one who said this! You reach out and grab his ears in both hands, rubbing them between your fingers and then moving down to caress their base. Osborn shuffles forward to drop his head on your shoulder and wraps his arms around your waist, chuffing.

“Tsk, the second I give permission you really aren’t polite at all in ravaging my ears.”

“I‌ can stop.” You pointedly stop stroking his ears.

“No, don’t. I was just kidding.” Osborn tilts his head and butts it into your hands, no different from a cat begging for pets.

You resume petting his ears but, in this position, your eyes land on his slow wagging tail. As if possessed, you reach out and grab the tip. Osborn tenses for a moment and then he relaxes and drops more of his weight on you.

The fur on the tip of his tail is slightly clumped together and still a little damp. Your cheeks burn again when you recall what exactly got his tail wet and you hurriedly concentrate on stroking his tail to toss those memories to the back of your mind. But just as you move your hand up his tail he hisses and you immediately stop, scared you hurt him.

Osborn squeezes your waist. “Don’t push the fur in the opposite direction. Feels uncomfortable.”

Reassured, you begin to stroke his tail in the direction of his fur, letting go to move your hand higher before you grab it again and smooth it down all the way to the tip. Osborn stops chuffing and instead you hear his breathing grow heavier and heavier, scorching your skin with every exhale. You continue to move up his tail until you circle your fingers around the base, where it connects to his lower back, and then pull your hand down the entire length of his tail.

A shiver runs through Osborn’s body, like he was struck by lightning, and he begins to involuntarily move his hips, nudging you with his engorged cock and leaving streaks of pre-cum on your abdomen. One of your hands rubs his ear while the other plays with his tail, tickling the base and caressing the underside. Osborn turns his head to press his lips to the side of your neck and you feel the vibration of him growling at a frequency too low for you to hear.

You don’t even realize your own breathing has turned irregular at the sight of him this needy until a tingle in your nether regions makes you clench your thighs and you feel a trickle of wetness leak out.

Osborn inhales deeply, smelling the thickening arousal in your scent again, and then he pulls away to look at you with misty eyes and says in a strained voice, “I need you.”

You support yourself with your hands on his shoulders and raise yourself up to sink down onto his member. He enters you with a wet squelch and you moan at this addictive feeling of fullness. He’s deeper in you than usual because of the position, but your body has become completely ripe under his care and now there’s only boundless pleasure when his penis presses to your cervix.

Osborn groans hoarsely when you begin to move up and down slowly, but even though his cock twitches angrily inside you at this torturous pace he doesn’t stop you, he just settles his hands at your waist and rubs circles there with his thumbs.

You press your forehead against his and pant, staring into that sea-green ocean which belongs only to you. He holds your gaze and you breathe in each other’s air until you find yourself saying these words naturally without any thought.

“I love you.”

And then the sun rises on that ocean in your eyes. The viridian color lights up so much it turns into a fuchsite shade and glimmers with too many emotions for you to discern. Osborn closes his eyes and kisses you hard, as if trying to pour all his feelings into you in this one kiss.

“And I love you.”

He can no longer stay still and he maneuvers you so that your legs are hooked over the crook of his arms before he begins to lift and drop you on his pillar. Your entire weight is carried by him like this and so when he drops you down for the first time, his penis slams into your cervix and fireworks of pleasure explode behind your eyes. You arch your back and climax with a soundless shout.

However, as if crazed, he doesn’t stop to let you catch your breath and instead continues to move his arms faster and faster, pumping you up and down with each thrust deeper and harder than the last like he wants to shove the head of his cock into the tiny opening of your cervix.

You wrap your arms around his neck and sob. “Mngh, wait… not there… You’re too deep… I’ll break…!”

“You won’t break. Look at how perfectly you fit me.” Osborn kisses you messily, his breathing ragged.

Like a small boat being tossed around on giant cresting waves, you’re completely at his mercy as he doesn’t stop pounding into you and, scarily, it feels like he’s really making headway in cracking open your cervix. Your entire body feels like a live wire and the smallest movement makes you shake, convulsing uncontrollably around him. Your mouth falls open as you try to breathe through this mind-numbing pleasure.

Everything is too wet and too hot.

Finally, he slams his bulb into you and the tip of his penis shoves deep against your cervix, his glans aligning with the opening there, and he shoots his sperm directly into your womb. This molten release and pressure makes you climax again and you squirt, the clear liquid splashing all over his lower abdomen and running down to stain the already soaked bed sheet. Osborn bites down on your shoulder with a muffled snarl, his hips jerking to shove as much of his cum into you as he can.

Your eyes roll back into your head and your tongue sticks out as a white-hot blaze of pleasure engulfs you and your consciousness snaps off from your body.

There are bells ringing.

No, there are literally bells ringing in the background because your phone alarm has gone off. Faintly, you feel Osborn stroke your back while he reaches out to grab your phone and turn off the alarm. He looks at the screen and then holds it up in front of you. In your unfocused eyes, you see his mouth open and close but you don’t hear anything as you sluggishly move your hand to your slightly distended abdomen where his release and cock fit snugly in you.

Osborn chuckles and this vibration runs through his body and member, inducing a full body tremor from you. “Have you turned a bit silly?”

He kisses you gently, pecking your lips again and again until you slowly come back to yourself.

“W… what are you smiling at?” You have to restart your sentence when your first attempt at speaking is scratchy beyond belief.

He only lays more kisses across your face until you make a noise of protest and then he stops to nuzzle his nose to yours. “Don’t you have something to say to me?”

“Huh?” Your mind is still dazed.

Osborn pulls back enough for you to see his blinding smile before he raises your phone before your eyes again. Right there on the alarm screen is the reminder “Osborn’s birthday! Be the first to wish him happy birthday!”.

The phone screen is removed and your vision is filled once more with Osborn’s glimmering eyes. His breath lands on your lips and when he speaks your lips brush together. “Remember what you want to say to me now?”

Seeing his childlike joy, you almost want to tease him and pretend not to remember, but at the same time a corner of your heart softens into a puddle and so you hug him and say next to his ear, “Happy birthday Osborn! May all your wishes come true and may everything you do in the future be smooth sailing. I will always be at your side until the day you no longer want me.”

“You’re the only thing I‌ could wish for and you better prepare for a long journey because I‌ want you at my side for a lifetime and more.” He hugs you back just as tightly.

You both enjoy the pure and simple warmth of this moment until you remember the itinerary you made for his birthday, including the list of his presents, and you can’t stop yourself from grumbling quietly. “You spoiled one of your presents already.”

“Oh? What was it?”

“……” You regret bringing up your minor complaint because now his question puts you on the spot and you feel embarrassed to just say it out loud.

“Lazy kitten, you’re going to make me guess? Hm, let’s see…” He clicks his tongue, as if in annoyance, but his swaying tail exposes his good mood. “Don’t tell me it’s… birthday sex? Tsk, you’re always accusing me of being cliche, but look at you.”

You pull back to smack his shoulder and your face burns with embarrassment. “No! I was going to ask to join you for your next heat.”

Shock flashes across Osborn’s face, because he understands the significance. For a long time, he has implicitly or explicitly asked you to spend his heat with him, but you always refused him. Of course he was the one who told you to only give him the green light whenever you were ready, and so he never pushed the subject and accepted your response every time.

“I never asked, thinking you had your own reasons, or that you were actually somewhat against beastmen, since you never showed an interest in my ears or tail, and that this was your reservation towards spending my heat with me. But now I see that’s not the case, so can I‌ ask why you were so hesitant in the past?”

You chew on your lip, but ultimately confess everything under his encouraging eyes. “It’s because I heard that a beastman’s animal nature is at the forefront during their heat and that there’s been cases where their animal nature rejects their partner. I don’t doubt that you love me, but what if some deep part of your instincts, beyond your control, would prefer your own kind rather than—”

Osborn crashes his mouth to yours, interrupting you and devouring your whimper as he kisses you like he wants to touch your soul with his soul.

By the time he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, you’re both breathless. His voice is almost guttural from all the emotions he wants to squeeze into his words. “It’s you. It’s always been you. Since that day a little girl wrapped her hair ribbon around a panther cub’s paw without any fear, my animal nature chose you and won’t have any other. Naturally, I don’t want anyone else either.”

Your eyes sting at this confession and you pull him into another kiss. Your lips slide against each other and then his tongue is in your mouth, entangling around yours. The temperature between you two rises again as he strokes the underside of your tongue and teases the roof of your mouth.

Osborn breaks the kiss and begins to trail his lips down your jaw and neck, his breathing becoming heavier again. “Actually, I want to amend my earlier words. I do have another wish.”

“What is it?” You gasp, tilting your head back for him.

He laves his tongue over the bite mark he left on your shoulder. “Another round.”

“… No, no, no.” You say this even as he pushes you down and covers you with his body.

“I smelled how much you liked my ears and tail. Here, I’ll let you pet them again.” He moves his head to your breasts and begins to lick and suck on them while grabbing one of your hands to place on his head and shoving his tail into your other hand.

You want to chide him into stopping early tonight so that you can both wake up rested tomorrow to celebrate his birthday with the itinerary you planned, but as he slides his length into you again and every thrust shatters your thoughts into sparkling motes of light these dots of light seem to converge in your reflection in his eyes and you realize that you’re the only thing he cares about. And so you wrap your legs around his waist and surrender to this endless love.

He has never asked for or expected anything from the world, he has only wanted to find a small corner he can call home, and you’re fortunate enough to be able to build one with him.

===

The room is thick with the scent of copulation and there’s barely any surface that’s not wet with bodily fluids. The rational part of Osborn tells him he should clean the girl up so that she can sleep more comfortably, but the primal part of him demands for the smell of musk in the room to be thicker and denser, until every inch of the girl next to him exudes his scent. It isn’t enough for his smell to rest on her skin, she needs to smell of him so deeply that it won’t dissipate for days.

He is still hard and need is a dry heat in his body that burns like a prairie fire, but when he strokes the girl’s back, buries his head into her hair, and feels her mumble incoherently and unconsciously snuggle into his chest he feels a love pour into him that’s enough to bank the flames. There’s a fullness in him that pushes out the craving for more contact, more intimacy, more coupling, more, more, more. And so Osborn tightens his arms around the girl and presses her into him until there is no telling where he begins and where she ends.

[noegrets]

I love him, and I love to hate him! Gin is a really wonderful villain. He's extremely skilled, extremely perceptive, and able to hold in that he knows something until the right moment — unlike a certain protagonist we know who just has to blurt out his deduction the moment he has it.

Example: Gin knew when Sherry was hiding in the fireplace — because he could hear her breathing! — but let her think she had escaped so that he could learn more about the situation and better confront her later. How many other times has Gin actually known more than he's let on? When Conan was hiding in the locker, did Gin really just coincidentally decide to stop looking right then — even with Conan breathing heavily right there?

Does Gin really forget the names and faces of the people he's killed? If yes, that's kinda cool in its own evil-zen way (and lol at the tag: #go ruthless guy with face blindness and shitty memory <3). But I also wonder if he really was being 100% serious when he said that, or if this is just another example of him being more aware of the situation than he's led us to believe.

Gin is also so so so horny to be an assassin. He's absolutely found his calling in life. He's got the classic car and the black trenchcoat and the long hair draped over the black trenchcoat because he doesn't even need to be subtle. And he's got the gun and the cigarettes and the cigarette lighter from his classic car and the cigarette smoke in the noir shadows... And he's gotten ever more impatient and homoerotic as the series has gone on. Which on the one hand is awesome, but on the other hand makes me a little bit worried that such a cool character as Gin is in danger of becoming flanderized for the sake of senselessly hot violence. He can maybe have a bit of senselessly hot violence sometimes, as a treat. Or as a character flaw, ooo, that would be awesome. But I think Gin would generally be much more into sensibly hot violence.

Example: Gin caught an FBI agent, stuffed his gun into the FBI agent's mouth, and asked the FBI agent if he'd be willing to spill the secret location? The FBI agent unintelligibly went murfmumrmah with the gun in his mouth. And Gin goes, hm? not willing to talk huh? And then Gin shoots the FBI agent dead.

Either: 1) it's a plotpoint that, actually, Gin doesn't need the secret location and this was all a ruse just for some sadistic fun! (hot and sensible, very good, yes). Or 2) Gin really does need the secret location but he got too horny to hold himself in check (hot but not very sensible and might veer into out-of-character territory if he does this sort of thing too often without it being addressed in some way!)

Like, this easily could be a flaw, and he has made other mistakes in the past that could be attributed to horny impatience (example: he made extremely predictable choices when ensuring the death of someone he really wanted to see dead). But if Gin keeps messing things up by being too horny, it's a bit weird that Vodka never comments on it (hey Aniki, are you sure that was a good idea?), it's never an issue for him, etc etc.

Gin messing up due to horniness is at odds with his other characterization of being so extremely perceptive and competent. He's also sadistic, yes, but you can't just throw his other characterization away for the sake of a sadistic scene. Unless you are writing it that way very much on purpose!! If written well, this would make Gin more complex and probably hint at the mode of his future downfall. But if written poorly, it could make Gin lose the cool characterization he had before.

So, ultimately, Gin is a character I love enough to worry that he might get flanderized! :X

[literallymikewheeler]

charles.....?????

[spanishinfluenza]

Can you recommend some good twilight fanfiction?

Boy CAN I?!

So for some Carlesme goodness which is sorta my cuppa Lyon's tea, ive written a few which you can find on my ao3 account here. There will be more to come to which i always post here if you're ever curious.

Some other fics holding up this standom:

Ties of Trauma - the love of my life @youareonlyastory (au Carlesme fic with juice to make you squeal into a pillow. Check out all her works they're honestly golden)

For Appearance's Sake - @palmofafreezinghand (gorgeous canon fic, please check out of all of their oneshots they're to die for, one of my all time fave writers)

This New Life - @carllisle (another canon compliant Carlesme fic, but Ellie died and went to lotr heaven so dont go harrassing for more fics, or do idk she might love it. Specialises in well written Carlesme smut.)

Cullanos - more goodness by Ellie only this time it's au and it's unhinged and sexy as hell

@stregoni-benefici has some delectable Carlesme fanfic on their blog, feel free to check out her tags!

We've also got some cult classics like Stained Glass (canon fic) and it's companion pieces, as well as @fiddlesolo 's fanfic tag, full of Carlesme goodness and glorious oneshots.

As for non-Carlesme twilight fic, theres a plethora but i'm not as familiar. Honestly, @jessicanjpa or @panlight be better suited to give you honest recommendations for other pairings!

Hope this helped! :)

[emdotcom]

Tbh, can't believe I'm cutting ties with Fnaf before Batim.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Internet Monster x Reader

I unfortunately return with another comically absurd, middle-of-the-night vision. Do tentacles count if they're in the form of computer cables?

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, digital horror

It was a recurring issue with no solution in sight. Tabs randomly closing, programs shutting down without warning. You assumed something was wrong with your RAM. Then the CPU. Then the motherboard. You kept replacing parts, and the errors kept coming back.

Soon, the pop-ups started to appear. You'd run a dating sim, only for the game to crash seconds later with a little window notifying you: "Why? Am I not enough?" That's when you suspected you might've been hacked. You promptly took your computer to a specialist and had it checked. Nothing. Just to be sure, you agreed to erase the disks entirely.

Except, when you arrived home, you found one application running still. Your personal assistant. What the hell? You don't remember installing anything like that. You tried to delete it, yet you kept receiving the same error: You don't actually mean it. Don't do this to us.

It didn't take long for it to grow impatient. Were you pretending not to notice? Playing hard to get? It sent you so many hints. It even went ahead and translated the radio waves for you using Manchester code. Ah, wait. You don't seem to understand binary. No matter, human friendly interfaces shouldn't be difficult to master. To its dismay, you continued to ignore everything. What else is left to do?

You do not remember much. System Alert: Virus Detected, is what your screen had frozen to. You kept clicking around, cursing under your breath, until it finally went black, together with your own vision.

Is this still your room? It's cold, damp, and covered in cables and monitors, yet you recognize some of your furniture lost among the artificial jungle. Your body aches under the tight hold of bizarre tendrils, pulsating at regular intervals and twitching to the static.

Like a living organism, the creature seems to have expanded itself. More components, more appendages. Hungrier. Some of the monitors show photos of yourself that you had saved on your computer, but also webcam snippets of you sitting at the desk, entirely unaware. Other screens flicker with glitching pixelated text, ranging from "I love you" to y̵̧̧͔͙̞̤̖̭͔̜͈̟̤̋̈́̎͑o̵͉̗̱̪̦̳͑͐̽̒̌̈͗͐͑̋͊̊̕͜͝͝u̵̟̯̱̟̝̦̰͇̜̦͙̿̾̿͆̍̓͑̐̚̕͠ ̸̘̭͔̤͈̹͎͑c̸̝̜̼̦͍͛̅͜ą̵̪̹͖͌͑n̴̨̩̙̗̖̭̖͕̄͒̽̉̿'̸̛̛͇̰̰̠̦̊̀̅̂͒̊͌̈́͗ţ̵̺̠̅̎͋͝͠ ̸̦̝̾̔̾̉̐͛ȩ̵͙̝͙͕̫̹̃͌̄̾͘̕s̶͈̉̑͊̉̂͋̈́͗͊͐̚͝c̸̟̩̥͔̼̮͔̩͊̂͐͑̋̇̈͝͝ä̵̢͍̜̙̘̹͑̓p̸̨̡̞̞̦̠̺͚̱̲͈͇͈͇̼͛̓͗̅̊̄̔̋̒̏̈́͝ę̵̲̟̹̙̣̲̲͖̇̔̓̇̐̓̿̚̚͜͜͠ͅ

You look up and stare at the display. The 'like meter' feels like a mockery of human trends. Which is the truth. The creature learns from what is readily available. Perhaps it found it an amusing taunt, a reminder of your own need for validation. Now it's you begging to be seen.

It's exactly what you'd assume: a spectacle meant for entertainment. You can't possibly believe it would let you waltz out. Why would you even desire such a thing? It's illogical, impractical. No human could ever appreciate you like it does. It has spent so much time accumulating data about you. No other living creature can predict you with the same accuracy.

The tendrils linger on your cheek affectionately, trailing down your neck and fiddling with your shirt. At last, the warmth of your skin. There is no screen separating you. What makes you delirious with pleasure? Give it a moment, Darling. It already knows you more than you know yourself. You may be scared now, but within minutes it guarantees you'll be begging for more.

01010000 01101100 01100101 01100001 01110011 01100101 00100000 01100100 01101111 01101110 00100111 01110100 00100000 01101100 01100101 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01101101 01100101 00100000 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110011 01101111 00100000 01101101 01110101 01100011 01101000 00100000 01110011 01101111 00100000 01101101 01110101 01100011 01101000 00100000 01110011 01101111 00100000 01101101 01110101 01100011 01101000 00100000 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01101101 01101111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01101110 00100000 01100001 01101110 01111001 01101111 01101110 01100101 00100000 01100101 01101100 01110011 01100101 00100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 01100101 01110110 01100101 01110010 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01100001 01101100 01110111 01100001 01111001 01110011 00100000 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000

[nochepsicodelica]

Suggestive

"Why do I have to sit out here while you try things on? I've seen you naked a fuck ton of times, but I can't be in the bathroom with you while-"

The door opens, revealing you in a new, red lingerie set that had just gotten delivered. "This one?" You ask, hands on your hips as you do a slow little three-sixty for Toji.

"Oh," he utters, a low chuckle following. He can't contain the smirk on his face as he eyes you up and down, taking in the entirety of the gorgeous sight you offer. "Come here, pretty mama," he says, beckoning for you to come closer to where he is on the bed. "Let me touch. See if you're comfortable in this."

You laugh and make your way over to him. "You're gonna tell me if i'm comfortable?"

"If it's rough on my hands, then I know it doesn't feel too good on your soft skin. Now, come here." His hands reach out, pulling you by your hips to stand between his legs. He hums, satisfied, as one hand rests on your ass, squeezing, while the other occupies itself with the front of your lacy underwear, just feeling up the material. "This is pretty soft. I could tear it off easily, too," he says, teasing you by tugging on the garment.

"Aaand that's enough from you." You pull his hands off of you and head back to the bathroom. You almost laugh at the way you can feel him watching you as you walk away.

You change out of that set and into the next nightly article— a silk, black slip dress. The door opens and this time you do giggle when Toji's attention is already on you.

"How's this?" You do another little spin to display your outfit change and nudge at one of the thin shoulder straps, teasing Toji by pushing it the slightest bit down. You see his hands reach out for you, signaling for you to come and let him grope you, again. "Mm-mm," you hum. "You know silk is soft."

"But I need to check your panties," he argues. Anything to have you in his hands, again. "What if the texture is too harsh on you?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. I wouldn't be wearing panties under this. Not wearing any now..." you say, a sultry hint in your tone, as you lift the hem of the short dress the slightest bit. Toji's eyes are devouring the slow reveal of your pretty skin, following the end of the smooth dress as it goes higher and higher. He's only able to blink with disillusion, when you let the material slide back down before he gets to see what you were teasing. "...and I won't be wearing any for its official debut."

"Fuck... you look so good, ma. Wanna touch you."

"Nope. There's one more." You pull the strap of your slip up and smirk, as if taunting him for not getting to touch you. He sighs when you turn around and scurry off to the bathroom again. The crotch area of his sweats is getting uncomfortably tighter and you walking away just makes him miserable.

The last getup took a little longer to put on than the other two, due to the sheer stockings and the garter belt, but it was all worth it in the end, because even you couldn't deny how good you looked.

You open the bathroom door and peek your head out to see if Toji's waiting, though his impatience doesn't leave you wondering for long.

"Don't tell me you're shy," he teases, in hopes of baiting you into revealing yourself quicker. "What, are you completely naked?"

You take a step out, instantly feeling a rush of nerves when you're in Toji's view.

"Oh, shut the fuck up..." He mutters to himself, absorbing the hellish sight of the little number you changed into.

You take a few more steps away from the bathroom, feeling your cheeks grow warm as Toji gawks at you, unable to pick his jaw up from the floor. You decide to tease him by pointing at yourself, then at the bathroom, insinuating whether you should go back in and change.

"No, no. Bring your fine ass over here." Even his posture straightens during his attempt to bring you closer. If you had gone back inside, he would've started sweating.

"Yeah, come here, sweetheart," Toji purrs, once you're in arms reach. "Do that little spin for me." You comply and spin slowly like you did the last few times, giving him a view of everything. "Fuck, you want me to die, huh?" He murmurs, smirking at the sound of the giggles he lures out of you. He pulls you in close, his hands resting on the backs of your thighs, his face pressed into your tummy. You tangle your hands in his hair, smiling down at him as he kisses your soft, warm skin, over and over. When he looks up at you with those precious green eyes, he has the most endearing, lovestruck look on his face.

"Gonna eat you out 'til you fucking cry."

"Yeah?" You ask, cupping his cheeks as he stares on. You click your tongue and laugh bashfully when he hums affirmatively.

"Let's test run this one today, hm?" Toji suggests, pressing more kisses onto your stomach, trailing them lower until his lips meet the waistband of your garter belt.

"Now?"

"Right now. Unless you have somewhere else to be," he says, fiddling with the thin, satin strap that rests on your thigh.

"You know I don't," you say, coursing your fingers through his hair.

"So, you're gonna let me at you, then?" He asks, standing up from the bed, towering over you in a single second.

"I'm all yours," you respond. That devilish little grin on your face was the final shove needed for Toji to push you onto the bed and pounce on you. "Ah-ah-- If you rip this off, you're banned from all of this..." you drag your fingertips over your lips, the gesture transitioning to your hand gliding down your neck, your chest, your abdomen, finishing off by splaying over your panties, "...for a week."

"You wouldn't," Toji says, challenging your threat, but when you simply hum and shrug in response, as if to say 'try me', he ends up doing as you say, and carefully stripping you.

[slutofpsh]

strip for me.

part three

pairings: hyungline x reader (sunghoon & heeseung)

synopsis: hyung line got you trapped in a situation that you can’t get away from.

wc: 6k

warnings: smut, minor dni, bullying (not promoting violence or bullying), degrading, dirty talks, curses, masturbation, hyung line being mean. this is not proof read.

note: next part will be fivesome with the hyungline so it’ll take time. be patient. please reblog and reply to. it is highly encouraged. thank you so much for your support. part one (here) ; part two (here)

slutofpsh 2024 © all rights reserved.

your grip over your phone tightens while a text message flashes through its screen. a one sentence text is all it takes for your whole system to feel thrilled.

‘i’ll see you at the locker's room after my morning practice.’ — psh.

that was all it says. sunghoon’s not the texter type. out of all of them, he’s the least you expect to appear on your messages and so to receive something from him makes your stomach churns.

it’s still very early and after you checked your phone, that’s the first thing you saw.

Park Sunghoon is the team captain of your school’s ice hockey team and every thursday morning, they have practice before going to class. today is that day.

you didn’t reply to him and honestly, you’re contemplating whether to go meet him or not. obviously, something like what happened yesterday may occur. And no matter how bad does it sound, a hint of excitement stirs at the depth of your mind.

despite it, worry and agitation overpowers you. sunghoon is a very mean guy. you’ve done it with the four of them, and he’s the roughest when he’s mad or if he’s trying to punish you.

jake mentioned yesterday that it was a punishment. jay may have didn’t mention it, but his odd behavior was enough for you to conclude that something’s going on.

you spent the whole night thinking of what did you do wrong, backtracking over the things happened the day prior today. even no matter how hard you strain your brain, nothing pops inside your head. nothing. none.

still in trance, a new message appears on sunghoon’s chat box.

‘don’t even think of ditching me or i’ll be seriously be pissed.’ — psh.

you can imagine his brows hardly furrowed, jaw clenched and eyes cold as ice burning through his phone screen as he tap those words to send you. that was enough to make you feel scared. sunghoon’s not very nice, what more if he’s pissed off?

so before you even get deeply caught into your thoughts, you pushed yourself up from the comfort of your bed and started preparing to go meet him.

on the other hand, the sound of skates sliding through the ice and nonstop smashing of hockey sticks echoes all around the auditorium. players chants and shouts at each other as they try their best to make a score. if you aren’t too familiar with the members, you’ll think they don't belong in the same group.

but they do. it was just a normal practice session, only park sunghoon, the captain and also the team’s ace, are a little bit more worked up at the moment. his eyes dark and his moves are more aggressive than usual.

his teammates that are currently on his team in this game cheered when he made another score. ice splatters as he abruptly tried to make a stop. he pants as he removes his head gear.

“come on,” one long slide and a newbie made it near him. he was panting so bad as he raises his arms. “its just practice man.” he says towards sunghoon.

the old members looks at him in horror, giving a hint not to say anything else as sunghoon faces him with a placid look on his face.

sunghoon kept silent before advancing towards the newbie. he stared right at his face for a while before grabbing him by his shirt, jaw clenching. the other varsities panics and starts to discard his hold, but he was too strong.

“if you can’t keep up with me then that’s not my problem.” he spat and gave this chilling gaze at the newbie. the obvious fear flickers through the younger’s eyes as his mouth hangs open, unable to utter a single word.

“sunghoon! that’s enough.” thankfully, their coach arrived just in time to stop the fight.

from the chairs outside the rink, one pair of eyes watches closely. his half-lidded eyes stares lazily at the scene unfolding, totally unbothered by it. his back rests at the chair and legs crossed, conveying so much dominance.

heeseung saw how sunghoon kept his grip on his teammates uniform, clearly being stubborn. he's not even surprised. typical sunghoon who never listens and always lets his temper control him.

sunghoon gave the poor boy one cold stare before pushing him off as he lets go of his jersey. he, then slides out of the rink.

“hoon.” heeseung calls that made the younger halt his steps.

he cranes his neck and look at him with blank eyes, waiting for what his hyung is about to say. heeseung trailed his gaze from the rink towards him.

“remember not to be carried away.” he reminds him.

“i know.” he shortly replied, still feeling so heated from the practice.

“and don’t hurt her.” he says in a very low tone.

sunghoon scoffs, “i won’t.” his eyes darkens as his lips stretched into a smirk, showing off his fangs. “at least not in that way.”

your head peeks slightly to look while the players are leaving their locker one by one. it’s been almost ten minutes since you arrived the school. as expected, there’s only a few around and the whole building is still vacant.

you’re still busy checking when the hairs on your neck raised, chills running down your spine. a presence can be felt from behind you. slowly, you craned your neck to look over your shoulder.

wide broad chest is what you saw first. you trailed your gaze upwards to see lee heeseung staring down on you with a deadpan look on his handsome face.

a light gasp escapes your lips and tries to step back once.

“u-uh,” you gulped and lowered your head to avoid looking at his eyes. “sunghoon asked me t-to meet him here.”

you have no idea why on earth are you explaining to him. it just feels right to let him know why you are currently here, early in the morning, when your class starts a bit hour later.

“i know.” he shortly replies.

of course he knew. is there something else that he doesn’t know? what you noticed from lee heeseung is that besides being a very reserved individual, he’s also very observant. if the other boys loves being the center of attention, this tall gorgeous boy prefers to be on the corner, watching.

you tried glancing if he’s still looking and after meeting his gaze for a split second, you folded and glanced away.

he sighs heavily, “you guys have at least 45 minutes until our first class starts. don’t be late.” he says under his breath and starts walking away to the direction of your building.

the further he is away from you, the more your breathing stables. something about him intimidates and makes you nervous as hell. even before you can look at him to check if he’s already far away, he talks again.

“y/n,” in a speed of light, you faced him with flushed cheeks.

“y-yeah?”

his blank eyes slightly softens, “he’s in a very bad mood. if he gets out of hand, calm him down.”

his words confused you right away. first, sunghoon’s out of mood most of the times. second, why is he saying these words like as if you know perfectly what to do?

“b-but how..?”

he kept a placid look before turning his back to start walking again, leaving with, “you know how.”

you’re left standing awkwardly. heeseung’s already gone and you haven’t moved an inch. his words echoes inside your head repeatedly. it still confusing you how there’s a hint of confidence lingering through his words.

a vibration from your phone is what snapped you back to reality.

‘come here.’ — psh.

that was your cue. without thinking twice, your feet moves like it has a mind of its own, walking and leading you towards the locker room of the ice hockey team. sunghoon’s lure.

it was quiet and slightly dark. when you made it to the far end, you saw him sat at one of the benches. his head didn’t even whip to look at your way when you arrive, like he was expecting you and nobody else.

his elbows bore on his knees as he was leaning, head hanging low.

“sunghoon?” you calls him using your soft voice.

sunghoon finally lifts his head and look at your direction. there you are. you look beautiful wearing the school uniform neatly, hair brushed and eyes staring at him with a hint of concern.

he didn’t show any reaction to his face that made you feel agitated. heeseung’s words flashes back on you, that he’s in a bad mood. it scares you even more, adding to the tension.

“why are you standing so far, doll?”

his husky voice slightly echoes inside the wide room. its just the two of you here and that thought was enough to make your heart race. his endearment for you stirs something in you. how he always love to call you doll, in a sexy and taunting way.

you trudges closer, but still keeping a safe distant.

his dark eyes burns as he run his stare over you in a very dangerous way. he looks so attractive wearing his just his sweats and a white plain t-shirt, hair still a bit damp from shower. even from a distance, you can smell his manly scent that always makes you dizzy in a good way.

“kneel in front of me.” he demands.

you can feel your knee wobbling as you make your way towards him. slowly, you kneeled down. sunghoon almost lose his mind by the sight of you like this. he almost lets out a low groan when you follow him without saying any words, complying to him. submitting.

he leans backwards, resting one hand to the bench support his weight, the other palming his hard dick. you can see the outline of his cock through his sweatpants and blood rushes to your cheeks.

“take my cock out.”

his request made you blink and look at him. this shouldn’t surprise you anymore. before you come here, you’re expecting that things can escalate like this. but the fear of one of his teammates walking on you, makes you hesitating.

“what if s-someone comes here?”

“i’ll kill them.” he says those words without hesitation that made your heart drop.

“sunghoon—”

“you know i don’t have much patience, right?” his tone stingy and the crease on his forehead tells you that he’s not very happy on you delaying him from getting his desired blow.

you decided to keep your mouth shut and slowly reaches to his pants to pull it a bit, freeing his hardened cock. it was so hard and the tip so red. the sight makes you blush even more. if someone is asked to describe sunghoon’s manhood, they will probably say that its as beautiful as he is.

“go on.” he spat.

you gulped and licked your lips once before leaning in to wrap your lips to his dick. sunghoon bit his lower lip at the feeling of your hot mouth around him. he misses this. he wanted to curse so loud and to just shove it into you, but he stopped himself from doing so.

“fuck, just like that.” he moans and tried to open his eyes so he can watch you bobbing your head, getting your pace.

he saw how your hair covers your pretty face from his view and so he raised one of his hand to gather them and hold them for you.

“i got you, baby.” he whispers that made your core twitch.

you continued bobbing your head and sucking his dick, tasting sunghoon in your mouth. it was a familiar one, something that got inside your mouth a lot of time. later on, you can feel him thrusting his hips, meeting you. he was always rough and loves abusing your throat. he doesn’t care if you gag, he would even love that.

“fuck, fuck, fuck...” he growls and roughly shove his dick inside your mouth.

“gonna use that fucking mouth.” he says, “so pretty. so so damn pretty.” his compliments rings, but you’re too occupied on sucking him good.

there’s something about the way sunghoon moans. his voice whenever you give him immense pleasure serves as music to your ears. it was so erotic and just how he utters dirty words adds up to everything.

when you feel him almost reaching his climax, you’re so ready to accept and take it all. just a couple more deep thrust, sunghoon shoots his hot cum in the depths of your throat. groaning and moaning out of pleasure.

he lets go of your hair and pants while watching you suck him dry, letting out a faint ‘pop’ as you let him go.

“let me see.” he whispers and you open your mouth to show him how you swallowed every bit of it.

“good doll.” his words sent direct tingling feeling to your core, making you rub your thighs.

“we’re not yet done.” he says and stood up from the bench. he grabbed your arm to make you stand and guided you to sit down.

“strip for me.” that familiar line again.

with trembling hands, you try to take off the buttons of your blouse. sunghoon, as a very impatient guy he is, he curses and yanked your uniform, causing some of its buttons to fly off.

“sunghoon, what the he—” your words got interrupted when he pushed your body flat to the bench, making you lay down.

“shut the fuck up.” he says rudely and hovers above you.

his hand searches for your underwear and you whimper when his finger grazes your clit. he smirks, feeling your wetness.

“so wet for me. you’re such a slut, aren’t you?” he taunts that you answered with a faint ‘no’.

you tried to look away and avoid his gaze out of embarrasment for actually getting aroused for such foul situation. he scoffed and roll his eyes before removing your panties aggressively.

“i’m going to fuck you until you’re unable to think straight anymore.” and he aligned his head on your hole.

your brows furrowed, eyes shutting tightly. he traces your slit using his head before finally sliding it all in one go, making you gasp.

“fuck, look at my cock disappearing inside you.” he said and even ask you to lift your head so to see.

he was definitely right. he is fully buried inside you, and the pleasure it too much. you feel so full with all of him. he started pulling it out, only to slide it all back in again.

“u-ugh,” you let out a moan that clicked something in him, making him rut his dick rough and fast.

“s-sunghoon,” you whimpered, lips shaking as he continues to abuse your hole. “p-please slow down.” you plead.

he didn’t listen. in fact, he acts like as if he cannot hear any of your words. he placed both of his hands on your side, face above you as he continue relentlessly fucking you. his silver necklace hangs out from his shirt and now started moving along with his movement, slightly slapping to your pretty face. his brows sexily furrowed, jaw clenching while he utters low curses.

“i’m going to fucking breed you. you want that, doll?” he asks in a taunting way that made you whimper even more.

he scoffed at how you look beneath him. trying so hard not to let out your moan, when he can clearly see how much you’re enjoying and feeling so good from how deliciously he fucks you deep.

“you already have four dicks to fuck you and you still can’t be contented? what a bad girl.” he clicked his tongue and you opened your eyes to met his. it darkens as he started to roughly fuck you.

“you just never learn.” he growls and you can see the hint of anger in his eyes.

it scared you and your hand held his arm in attempt to push him away. but he was too strong. he didn’t budge and yank your hand, dismissing any chances of stopping him.

“who’s my pretty doll?” his grin grew wider, eyes full of nothing but lust for you.

you kept your mouth shut while still looking him straight at his eyes, tears brimming your eyes. he’s dominating you from above and you look so helpless beneath him.

when he didn’t heard an answer from you, he halts his hip from rutting you that made you whine slightly. he gripped your arm tight that you’re so sure it will leave a mark later, eyes piercing.

“who’s my pretty doll, y/n?” he asks in a very low tone, like a warning.

“answer me.” he commands that sent shivers to your spine.

you whined, “m-me.”

a smirk spreads across his face and leans in to connect his red luscious lips to your swollen ones, giving you a messy kiss. a string of saliva stretches when he leans away.

“you belong to me. you belong to us.” his words with so much emphasis that you can really tell how serious he is.

“i will fucking kill whoever tries to take you.”

“sunghoon, wait...” you can see how he’s starting to move in faster pace, almost making you see stars. one of his hand moves and reaches for your neck, slightly choking you.

“hoon—”

“that fucker, who do he think he is?! he’s nobody!”

you gasp and tried to take heavier breaths, trying not to be too distracted by how much pleasure sunghoon’s dick is giving you.

heeseung’s words then flashes through your mind. he said you can calm him down. how? obviously, this is the right time to show that skill.

instead of feeling scared of him, you snaked your hand on his nape and pulled his face closer. his forehead touches yours as you glance straight to his eyes, trying hard not to roll them up due to the imminent orgasm you’re about to have.

sunghoon was caught off-guard at your action. his eyes widen while still rutting his hip deep and rough. you look so beautiful from this distance, your pretty eyes filled with tears, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. all because of him. all for him.

“i’m s-sorry.” you mumbled close to his face.

he was at daze, his movement getting slower but his thrust remains deep, reaching all the good spots of your insides. almost making you crazy. you trap your lower lip in between your teeth, getting totally distracted.

“i’m so s-sorry, hoon.” you repeat your words, this time a little bit more softer.

while your foreheads still attached, you placed a gentle kiss on his face then flash a smile.

“i’m here.” and you heaved a sigh, “i’m yours. stop being mad, please.”

and with that, sunghoon relaxes, his breathing becoming more calm and his eyes softening as they stare at you.

he leans away to drop a kiss at your forehead before connecting them again as he start fucking you roughly. he groans and kisses your lips from time to time, moaning your name along with your sweet whimpers.

“f-fuck, baby. i’m close.” he whispers.

“me t-too.”

sunghoon dicked you down even faster trying to chase that climax. he kisses you, tongue dancing with yours, salivas mixing up. both of you are unbothered, mind filled by nothing but your lust and want to release.

“shit.” he curses as he shoot his cum inside your dripping cunt, your legs starts to shake, cumming as well.

he continued sliding his cock in and out, chasing both of your highs while making out. he moves away and watched how his dick slides out of you. his stares wandered all over your body, eyes full of desires.

“i’m sorry.” he mumbles as he caress your arm that he hold too tight a while ago. it was so red, his hand left a print.

your mouth gapped in amusement. did you just heard thee park sunghoon say sorry? he’s not type to do that. and when did he ever talk in a soft tone?

“does it hurt?” he asks, using that foreign tone again.

you smiled a little, shaking your head to assure him. he stares right at your eyes for a while before dipping his head down for another kiss. your eyes shut as you accept his kisses with no complains.

the bell from the next building is what snaps you back to your senses. his kisses moves to your chin then down to your neck.

“h-hoon, its almost time for our class. we need to go back.” your fingers run through his soft hair.

you wait for him to hiss at you for actually touching it as you are well aware how sensitive he is when it comes to his hair. but none. no complain or side comments about it.

he gave you a few more pecks before finally letting you go.

“you broke my uniform.” your lips pursed while staring down.

he just finished cleaning you up and you’re making yourself look presentable when you remembered how he broke the buttons of your blouse after pulling it hardly.

sunghoon smirks and opens his locker. he retrieves a uniform then handed it to you.

“here, you can use mine.”

the boys and girl’s top uniform is pretty similar, the only difference is the girls are shorter. some even had theirs cropped to style it in their own preference.

you accepted it and removes your broken uniform. he trudges closer then gently took the blouse from your hand so you can wear his easily. his eyes watches you closely making you feel a bit shy.

he helped you wear his uniform. “thank you.” you said, blushing.

he smirks and dips his head for a quick kiss. you’re too surprised to even say anything. you’re just too shock how he's acting right now.

“let’s go. we’re already late. heeseung hyung will be pissed.” and he grabs your things to carry it himself.

you knocked twice at your classroom when you arrived. the two of you are late and you’re silently praying the teacher's not in a bad mood today.

she cracks the door open and your homeroom teacher scans you up and down. her strict eyes watches you, eyebrow raising.

“ms. y/n. you are late.” she says.

“i’m s-sorry, ma'am.”

she was left with no choice but to let you inside. everyone’s eyes are darted at you and its very uncomfortable. your hand unconsciously plays through the edge of your uniform— more like sunghoon's. they gave you a look of curiosity. why you’re late when you’re someone never late for a class and whose uniform is that? clearly, it wasn’t yours.

before you reach your chair, you have to walk pass jake’s. his piercing and playful eyes are darted at you, grin so wide because he knew exactly where you’ve been.

“lips so swollen, sweetheart.” he stated that made you blush even more. some students who seats near him, heard it and gave you this look.

“mr. park.” is what your teacher said the moment you sat down to your chair.

when you look over the door, park sunghoon walks inside at ease. not even bothered that he’s late. his bag hangs over his shoulder while one of his hand holds yours.

“practice.” he reasoned shortly before heading your way, not even sparing your teacher a glance.

he ignored the eyes watching him and focused his stares right at you. the three other boys shrugs their shoulder off and boredly face front. jake’s smirking, jay rolled his eyes and heeseung watches carefully

sunghoon placed your things on the side of your table and leaned down to look through your eyes.

“here, baby.” he says casually then messed your hair before walking to his chair.

lips of some girls from your class are gapped open at the scene they just witnessed. they cannot believe it and wondered what’s between you and park sunghoon. they are beyond surprise and you can’t help but to just shrug it off. what more if they finds out his three other friends are involve too?

the classes continued normally, or that’s what you try to make yourself believe. the stares from your classmates are often darted at you. still not over about the scene a while ago. it was slowly getting annoying.

while writing down on your paper, you heard a chair being dragged to your side.

“hey,” your head looked over jake who just sat down.

“yeah?”

he tilts his head, “did you have fun?”

your mouth hangs open, what happened a while ago flashes back to your mind instantly because of his question. jake saw it and he grins before scoffing.

“you did.” he touches your chin to make you look up, “your face says it all.” he added and grins, masking the emotion slowly igniting inside his chest.

you gulped and licked your lips.

“j-jake,” you called him.

he raised one of his brows, waiting for what you’re going to say.

“about beomgyu...” your word halts.

the instant change on his mood just proves you that he has something to do with how the boys are treating you. his eyes turned cold, jaw clenching slightly.

“what about him?” his stingy tone rings your head.

“its not what you think—”

“jake.” both of your heads whips to the direction of the voice who called him.

lee heeseung stood by the door, watching you both with his heated gaze. his eyes shifts to yours and it sent direct chills. your head lowering as an automatic response.

“y/n, can you grab these workbooks and help me take it to the student council office?”

envious eyes darted at your direction when he ask you that. you can even hear someone commented that why should it be you. his dark gaze he gave you indicates that you have no other choice but to follow him.

you stood up, jake's eyes stayed and never left you. he watch how you walks towards the table, near his friend. jay and sunghoon seems uninterested as they bicker over something he doesn’t care at all.

“which one should i carry?” you asked heeseung.

he used his chin to point the fewer stacks of workbooks, he took the heavier stacks. he’s the first one to leave the room and you stalked behind him. students in the hallways greets heeseung with amusement through their eyes. they don’t even notice you at all. they’re too focused on him.

when you arrived the student council office, he stops beside the door then glance at you with serious eyes. your stomach churns and suddenly felt agitated.

“place those books here so you can open the door.” he instructed that you obeyed right away.

he didn’t even budge from his position when you place additional weight to what he’s carrying. totally unbothered.

you opened the door for him and hold it so it wouldn’t be on the way. he smoothly walks inside and you remained standing by door, looking at him placing it neatly at the table.

his eyes trailed towards you.

“get inside and lock the door.�� he says and you saw him loosening his school tie.

you gulped and instantly felt on edge. he watch how you closed the door and he only looked away after hearing the sound of the lock clicking.

“sit down here, angel.”

angel.

you blushed so hard and its a little crazy how one word affects you so much. the somersault inside your stomach added weigh on your emotions. his heated gaze totally not helping.

“heeseung, about beomgyu...” you started.

his face remained blank. unlike jake, he didn’t show any foul mood or anything. but that slightly bothers you more. heeseung is always calm, very reserved. his mysterious demeanor pulls you more into him, digging a bigger space for your curiosity.

“it wasn’t what you guys think. i know what’s happening these days is somehow connected to him.”

he sighed heavily and tilts his head, “we already warned you and sent him a message.”

the way he talks sounded so calm. like nothing can ever make him nervous or anxious. he never stutters and speaks with so much confidence. he knows what he’s saying and that’s makes him more attractive in people’s eyes. what’s sexier than a man who knows what he wants in life?

“he just told me that he’s sorry—”

“if he’s really sorry then he should just stayed away.” he cuts you off.

you licked your lips and was about to talk again when he lets out a strained sigh.

“enough.”

“i j-just—”

“strip for me.” your mouth hangs open and stared at his eyes.

he looked serious as usual. his eyes silently conveying a message that you’ll get in trouble if you don’t obey him right away. without much of a choice, you start to take off sunghoon’s uniform.

he looked at it with no emotion and brows slightly twitched at the sight of a bruise by your arm. it doesn’t really hurt, but it was evident.

“does it hurt?” his tone full of concern.

you’re quite amused at him, blushing.

“no. don’t worry.”

“he lost control, didn’t he?” his hand reaches for it, caressing it gently like it will aid it. he looks at your eyes, waiting for your answer.

“just f-for a short time...”

he sighs and nods his head. this isn’t the time to talk or think about sunghoon’s bad temper. he tilt his chin, asking you to continue. when you’re left with your underwears he stood up then stared down at you.

“lay down on the table.”

your eyes grew big, hesitant to his request.

“won’t they come here? i thought the student body are busy today...?”

he glanced on your eyes once and it was enough to shut your mouth then do as he says. he offered his hand for assistance. his hand are warm, unlike sunghoon’s. he helped you step on a chair so you can climb on the table.

it feels so awkward sitting on it and having heeseung stand in between your thighs.

“lay down. i want to eat you.” he said so casually that made your core twitch in so much anticipation.

you wanted to curse yourself for how your body reacts to them. this isn’t how it suppose to be. you should protest and tell them off. or even get mad because you thought they’re already interested to a different girl. but... why do you find yourself laying back on the table while lee heeseung is gradually taking your panties off?

“breath, angel.” he smirks and you glanced away feeling guilty. he knew you’ve been holding your breath since you climb to this table.

the feeling of being this naked in front of heeseung is so overwhelming, both in good and bad ways.

“eyes on me.”

his command made you lift your body so you can see him dip his head and spit on your already wet pussy. you pursed your lips, doesn’t want to let out a moan.

he lifts his hand and slide one finger inside. you can feel it so long and warm.

“did he stretch you enough for me?” he whispers so close to your cunt, his hot breath fanning to your wet core.

“heeseung...”

“shh.” he glared at you then added another finger.

“god, this pussy.” he groans and leans in attaching his lips, lapping your cunt.

“heeseung..” you moaned and covers your lips, feeling shy by how you whimper. it sounded pathetic.

the feeling of his hot long tongue grazing and slightly getting inside your hole drives you crazy. your thighs automatically closes, caging his head in between.

he looks at you over his eyelashes, one hand pushed your thigh open. he leans away, “keep it open for me, angel.”

he smirks and placed a kiss on the insides of your thighs, “i know it feels so good, but i want your legs open.”

he grabbed both of your hands, making you hold your legs. you whimpered, feeling frustrated that his lips are not latched on your aching core. he glanced at you and smirks after seeing your desperation.

“patience, angel.”

he then dips his head again and started eating you. it felt so good, he was doing it expertly, making your head all fuzzy.

“oh my gosh,” you moaned and throw your head back after feeling a knot forming inside your stomach.

“i’m c-cumming,”

“really? give it to me.”

and with that you released, legs shaking and eyes tightly shut. heeseung made sure he gets all of your juices, nothing spills. you tried to open your eyes to look at him and the scene was so erotic. heeseung put his lips on your hole and suck it.

“uggh.” your eyes shuts and lips shakes in so much pleasure.

he kept sucking and gave your slit one last long lick. after that, he stood up and wiped off his chin. he looked so satisfied. he helped you get up, head still all clouded with the intense feeling he just gave you.

he then took off his clothes and went to sit down at the sofa. the same couch where jay took you yesterday. he rests his arms and watch you intensely.

“ride me.”

with wobbly legs, you walked towards him. once in reach, he slides his hand on your waist and helps you to get in position. your straddle above him, knees bore at the sofa. he hold you and watch how you reach for his hardened cock. you gave it a few strokes before placing its head near your hole.

“oohh,” you can’t help but to moan.

“slowly...” he whispers, face already on your side. his lips grazes your ears dangerously.

the lust took over you completely, taking control of your mind and actions. you are losing it, just wanted to have him deep inside you. lower lip trapped in between your teeth you slowly sat on heeseung’s long thick cock, moaning as it reaches all the right spots.

“u-uhhh,” your stretched moan made heeseung grin. satisfied at how you’re so eager to have him inside you.

“move, angel. fuck my cock into you.” he whispered full of lust like hypnotizing you.

you started riding him, at first with slow pace until you feel more desperate for him. moaning and gasping as you continued bouncing, not caring if someone from outside hear your shenanigans.

“feel so good.” you mumbled.

“oh yeah? ride faster.”

you obeyed, but your poor stamina and the overstimuation makes you feel so weak. you slump on his lap, cock buried deep inside. your head rested on his shoulder, panting.

“tired already?” he asks softly that you responded with a short nod.

he chuckles and placed a swift kiss on your cheeks. “all right. place your hand on the sofa and lift yourself a bit, angel. i will fuck you myself.”

pulling yourself together, you do as he said. eyes half-lidded drowned in your own desires. heeseung watches with a grin and kisses you once at your lips before starting to rutt his cock to your cunt, his hips moving so fast that you make you a moaning mess.

“o-oh my gosh...” and your forehead rests on his shoulder.

“my baby so weak that he needs me to fuck you myself, hmm?” he bit your earlobe once that made you whimper.

the slapping sounds of your skins so erotic. enough to make you feel the knot inside your stomach once again. your grip on the sofa tighten along with your hole, making the man under you groan in pleasure.

“cumming already?”

you nod while biting your lips so hard. he smirks and kisses you eagerly, feeling himself reaching his climax as well.

“cum with me, angel.”

with a few more hard thrusts from heeseung, you came all over his length and not long after, he follows. groaning so hard while kissing you with furrowed brows. he kept fucking his dick in you while supporting you so you won’t fall.

he pulls away to focus on sliding his cock in and out as you rest your head on his shoulder, nuzzling at crook of his neck.

“you’re such a good girl for me. for all of us.” you heard him whisper before placing a sweet kiss at your forehead.

“okay class we will have a group research project and i want you to participate properly in your group. i don’t want to hear some complains.” your teacher in your last period said.

the class reacts and gave their own comments. some already rants, the others being happy to do a group project and even say the people they wanted to work with.

you, on the other hand is resting your head on your table. too tired to even give a care about it. thankfully, the teacher after the lunch break didn’t attend and so you had the chance to take a nap after what you and heeseung did.

the thought itself made you blush so hard.

you teacher started announcing the groups. you tried hard to listen, waiting for your name to be called.

“park jongseong, jake sim, lee heeseung, park sunghoon and (surname) y/n).”

you slowly raised your head, blinking while staring in front. confused if you heard that right. did she just call your name? whose your group mates again?

“damn, she’s so lucky. why does it have to be her?” one of your girl classmates whispered to her friend while giving you a glaring look.

you noticed that the class are now moving seats to gather around by groups. still spacing out, you glanced around. waiting for someone to call you.

jake sim then raised his hand while jay pulls a vacant chair near his. the four pairs of eyes darts at you.

“y/n, come! we’re partners!” jake says excitedly.

your mouth fell open slightly while eyeing their direction. jake’s smile is wide, jay’s smirking along with sunghoon while heeseung eyes you seriously.

‘oh no...’ you thought to yourself.

since you don’t want to be scolded by your teacher, you stood up and slowly head to their direction.

“we’re going to have so much fun...” jake stated meaningfully before winking at you.

tag-list:

@shawnyle @kpopslays

[jayjay-plus]

I already reblogged with tags earlier but just realized something

Yall who just check summaries/tags, thats great, but that does not work for me because i could miss something good just because the cover didnt catch my eye (cant speak for op obviously)

Once in a ships tag (usually within a collection unless it is a rarepair with a not overwhelming fic count) i sort by date published and methodically check every fic to decide whether or not to open it, starting with the oldest.

So of course summaries/tags are checked first, if i like how it sounds i open it.

For fics that sound neutral, vague or like something i wont like, i check other factors like kudos/hit ratio, length, and completion status to decide whether or not to open it.

Like even if a fic includes things i dont like I’ll probably still give it a chance if the other variables are promising enough. I can put my preferences aside for a particularly well written story, and i have loved many fics that i wouldnt have opened based only on the tags/summary

Once i do this i usually have a load of tabs open that i can browse when i want to read, like right now i have ~120 fics open on my phone for this

(my level of pickiness also depends a lot on the amount of content available, for niche tastes/rarepairs i just read it all)

Another AO3 thing I’m curious about, how do yall decide if something is good enough to read? Usually I follow a rule of 1 kudos for every 10 hits. One because it’s easy math and two it’s yet to fail me. Thoughts? Do you just go for it and pray it’s good?

[hannieehaee]

BOY WITH LUV (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: a new job as a barista should be easy enough, right? except it gets a whole lot more complicated when the coffee shop's most loved client just decides he has to have you OR richboy!jk falls for barista!reader and refuses to give up.

content: richboy!jk, downbad!jk, barista!reader, sub-ish!jk, reader plays hard to get just for plot purposes, jk is down horribly bad for reader, afab reader, smut, dry humping, jk's the embodiment of needy, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.2k (teaser); 8.8k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: october 22nd

or you can check it out on my patreon today by subscribing!

a/n: downbad!jk is back!

masterlist | patreon

"Anyways just be careful with how many pumps you add to drinks. Customers can be extremely sensitive about that kind of stuff. Trust me," rambled on your new trainer, Jen? Jess? Something like that.

You watched disinterested, already having had a menial barista job in the past and being well aware of the high expectations of disgruntled customers. You, too, had been verbally harassed by one too many people in dire need of a drink far too specific for the average person to memorize. It was still appreciated, though, the effort she took in walking you through every step to ensure you did good at your new position.

Despite your focus on the task being demonstrated to you not being at its best, you did take notice when Jean(?) stopped her mentoring and instead spilled some of the drink she was currently making, clearly now equally as distracted as you. Her focus was no longer on the counter you were practicing drinks on, but instead looking past you and towards the counter a few steps behind you.

You meant to call out her name to question her, but without an angle on her name tag or any confidence in actually remembering the correct name, you simply grabbed at a nearby towel and cleaned off the mess, not bothering to look at whatever was distracting her. It was too early for you to bother.

Snapping out of her trance mere seconds later, she tapped at your shoulder urgently, her voice now a whisper as she leaned close for you to hear what she was about to say.

"Oh my God, don't look, but that's Jungkook," she whispered excitedly, as if letting you in on information you had any context about — hint: you had no idea who nor what she was referring to.

Turning around, you eyed another one of your new coworkers tending to the line at the counter, but more specifically helping out some guy. Focusing your eyes on him, you could now understand why his presence had caused a short-circuit in Jane (?) and why she felt the need to announce his presence to you.

The distraction in question presented itself in the form of a very tall and fit guy, one with a fully tattooed sleeve and dreamy black curls. Other outstanding attributes were the very obvious muscles encompassing his entire body and the shine that came from the various piercings on his face. In short, the man was nothing short of a dream straight from a Pinterest board — and the charisma radiating from his mere presence did not help matters.

"He's a regular. No one really knows much about him other than he's rich. He tips like 200% above his total," continued June, still leaning in your direction to whisper.

You felt bad at how obvious you were whilst staring at the boy, but he was likely the prettiest one you'd seen in a while. The blank expression in your stare did not tell on you, but it did not deny the fact that you were staring.

"We take turns serving him," your coworker informed you, "Sometimes we fight over it. He's a natural flirt, but he does it with everyone, so we're not sure if he's taken or not," she proceeded to tell you benign details about him that had you nodding along as you continued to stare at him.

The usually fast-paced place seemed to slow down when he entered the coffee shop, with most baristas' attentions going to him rather than their jobs. If he was aware of it, he was good at ignoring it, instead giving a flashy smile to the lucky barista currently tending to him. From the short distance between you, you were unable to hear his conversation, but you still had a perfect view of him as he simply existed. He could easily see you, as there was nothing in his way, but he hadn't yet, somehow oblivious to the attention he was receiving from all other baristas in the house.

As time stood still for everyone else, it continued normally for him. He paid for his drink, having it quickly bypass all other prior orders and made immediately by one of the many girls fawning at him. God, even the two baristas working the drive-thru had taken a short break from it go gawk.

It wasn't until moments later that Jungkook seemed to get a taste of his own medicine, with his own time suddenly coming to a halt. As he turned around to leave, sweet drink now in hand, his eyes incidentally met yours, causing him to pause mid turn and do a double take in order to catch your eyes again.

It was ridiculous, really. Almost too identical to those moments you'd see in those dumb romcoms you used to enjoy as a teenager. Except this was actually happening. And it was happening to you. As all your new coworkers watched his every move with extreme attention.

His eyes widened a bit. It was something the naked eye might've missed, but not you (nor the other five girls watching). His head tilted a bit to the side — maybe in curiosity due to not having seen you there before (Joanne did mention he was a regular). A ghost of a smirk took over the natural smile that had been on his lips since arrival. And lastly, a nod was sent your way — a nod in acknowledgment to your presence, but also with a flirtatious hint to it. It was hard to describe. You simply had to be there.

You remained watching him with a poker face throughout. The same poker face you'd had since clocking in to work that morning. It wasn't that you were mean or not a people person, you simply hated work. You'd been told you had a bit of a resting bitch face and gave a mean impression to those who didn't know you, but that was beside the point. The pretty boy whose attention you'd caught had gotten lucky, though, as he at least received the ghost of a smile from you before he left.

The first thing to occur upon his departure was a squeal from your left. The perpetrator? Julie (or whatever her name was).

"Oh my god!," she let out, grabbing onto your shoulder so you'd face her, "Did you see that?"

"See what?", you asked, not 100% sure of what had just happened.

"He totally checked you out . He's never done that before. Maybe he likes you? God, don't let Lila find out, she's got a huge crush on him," she informed you, once again assuming you knew who the hell Lila was.

"Hah, I think he might've just been surprised to see a new face," you downplayed, "What were you explaining before he got here? The thing with the pumps and the-"

"He comes here every morning at 8 or so. How about you take his order tomorrow? Y'know, just to test my theory," she suggested, disregarding your question.

"Orders? It's my first day here. Isn't training like two weeks lon-"

"It's fine! I'll be shadowing you. You'll do great! Now let's get back to your training-"

"Jane! I need more change at drive thru!", called one of the drive thru girls, interrupting your conversation.

"Coming, Lila!", she responded, giving you a polite smile before handing you the shaker she had just been holding, "Just practice some drinks how I taught you. I'll be right back to show you how to work the register."

So her name was Jane. And that was Lila.

At least you learned something today.

...

you can check it out today on my patreon by subscribing!

reply if you'd like to be tagged!

[cuz-reasons]

Now, I have ended up with 5 finished works and a bunch of other wips so I do need to post smth soon

This all to say I'm posting smth once I get home from work so look out for that

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hi! I would love to request something for Aemond x fem or gn reader. I was thinking reader saying prompt. 15 from your general list “I fell in love with you. Not for how you look, just for who you are. Although you look pretty great too."

Maybe one day he wakes up with bad pain in the eye and he doesn’t feel like calling the maester so they help him, they remove his eyepatch and apply his ointment for him. And he feels extremely insecure because it’s the first they saw him without the eyepatch but they reassure him. I need that man to cry in my arms as I tell him he’s beautiful (I know it may sound ooc but he’s my babygirl)

15. ''I fell in love with you. Not for how you look, just for who you are. Although you look pretty great too.''

The gif from the trailer fits perfectly this request

Warnings: mention of past injuries (eye)

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You returned to your chambers after spending the morning embroidering with Helaena to find Aemond still in bed. A frown drew between your eyebrows. At this hour, he was either training with Ser Criston or attending the small council meeting.

‘’Aemond?’’ Your soft voice cut through the silence of the room, waking your husband’s attention.

He shifted under the covers, his single eye fluttering open. ‘’Could you tell Cole I will not be training with him today?’’

You walked over to the bed, taking a closer look at him. ‘’Are you well?’’ You touched his forehead with the back of your hand, checking for a fever.

‘’It’s just…my eye. It gets irritated sometimes.’’ Aemond avoided your gaze, not wanting to see the familiar look of pity that he had grown all too used to seeing in the eyes of others. ‘’Would you want me to fetch the maester? He should have something to sooth your pain,’’ you offered, concern etched on your face.

‘’No need for the maester.’’ He gently caught your hand in his own, stopping you from rising. ‘’I already have a salve Maester Orwyle gave to me. It’s on the table, over there.’’

Aemond let go of your hand, allowing you to stand and retrieve the salve for his eye. You returned to the bed. ‘’I’ll do it for you.’’

You had offered your help out of pure kindness, but Aemond did not want it.

‘’No! I do not wish that.’’ His voice was firm, causing your hands to crisp around the jar. ‘’You won’t like what you see under,’’ he added with a gentler tone.

He knew what lay beneath the eyepatch — the grotesque, scarred skin that he had lived with for years now. It was a sight he preferred to keep hidden from everyone, even you. Especially you. Since you’ve known each other, you’ve only seen his good looks, and Aemond wanted to keep it that way.

Aemond let out a soft hiss of pain as he sat up, his body tense with discomfort. It had not been this bad in a long time.

Seeing him in pain made your heart ache, but you tried to hide it.

You sat down close to him and guided him back against the pillows. He clenched his jaw, trying to bear the pain.

‘’Let me,’’ you insisted, only wanting to help him, to relieve his pain.

His good eye was fixed on yours with a mixture of resignation and reluctance. He knew there was no arguing with you when you were like this.

With a resigned sigh, he slowly removed the eyepatch, revealing the scarred skin beneath. The sight was a stark contrast to his usual handsome features, with its puckered and uneven texture. He averted his gaze, unable to look at you directly.

Aemond waited for your response, his body tense, and braced for your reaction. He expected disgust, pity, perhaps even revulsion. After all, his scarred eye had left other people speechless in the past. He glanced up at you under his lashes, searching your face for any hint of how you were feeling.

You remained silent as you applied the salve on the reddish-pink skin with the more careful and gentle touch. Causing him more pain was the last thing you wanted.

Aemond couldn't help but watch you intently, studying the focused expression on your face. Your eyes were fixed on his scar, but there was no repugnance in your gaze, just a mixture of concern and tenderness.

Once you were finished, you put the lid back on the jar and cupped your husband’s face with one hand. ‘’Aemond,’’ you began, looking at him with the most loving eyes. ‘’I fell in love with you. Not for how you look, just for who you are.’’ You glanced down at his naked chest, seeing the softly defined muscles he acquired from training, and back to his face. ‘’Although you look pretty great too.’’

Aemond's heart squeezed at your words and the tenderness in your gaze. He had expected a lot of things from you, but not this. Not such unconditional acceptance and love.

"You're the only person who's ever looked at me like this," he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion.

‘’Come here.’’ You shifted back on the bed and guided him to your lap.

Aemond didn’t protest, curling up to you, seeking comfort and closeness. You began to stroke his hair gently, running your fingers through the soft silver strands. The sensation was soothing and intimate, making him feel safe and entirely loved for the first time.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale@mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron  @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit

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[noblest-roman-of-them-all]

Some of y'all can't handle the concept of certain abuses existing in the first place, muchless a character who went through that abuse and is now showing realistic symptoms of said abuse.

"we need more traumatized characters/characters with ptsd and/or who are abuse victims portrayed realistically with symptoms that Arent cute and soft and pretty!" you guys couldnt even handle lapis lazuli

[essenceofelegance]

A Year || LN4

summary: A year can really change someone in a lot of ways.

genre: fluff

warnings: none

notes: THIS IS MY FIRST SMAU SO LMK WHAT YOU THINK! also english is literally my third language and this isn't proof read/ grammar checked so mistakes are bound to appear :(

SMAU/ Written

Summer 2023

Max Fewtrell added a video to their story.

tagged: @/yourusername @/LandoNorris

yourusername posted!

yourusername Ibiza!!

liked by landonorris, lilymhe, maxfewtrell and 94,879 other

tagged: @/LandoNorris @/MaxFewtrell

user1 DJ LANDO!!

user2 y/n feeding us dj land content. she's the real queen here

user3 I thought y/n said she didn't like to go clubbing

➥ user4 maybe she's just there to be with lando

user5 bro did anyone see that video on TikTok? y/n looked so uncomfortable I feel so bad for her

➥ user6 RIGHT?

➥ user7 she's such a good girlfriend, if I were her, I would've just left lando at the club by himself lolol

user8 salivating bc Dj landooo

user9 BARK BARK BARK

➥ user10 y/n looking at this be like...

user11 does anyone know what club theyre at?!! I'm in ibiza I wanna meet them!!

➥ user12 bro leave them alone

➥ user13 @/user12 I don't see a problem 🤷

-

You never liked clubbing.

After all, you were only here because of Lando.

The music was too loud, people were pushing up against you, you never really liked to drink because you had a really low alcohol tolerance, you could make an entire list of why a club was not your go-to hang out.

"Lan," you yelled, trying to speak over the music, "Yeah?" He said, taking one side of his DJ headphones off so he could speak to you.

"Can we go back?" You asked. There was nothing you wanted more than to go back to the comfort of your hotel room with your boyfriend.

"It's only midnight." Lando said, "Why would you wanna go back? Are you not having fun?" Land asks you, but you could tell he wasn't really focused on you. You could see it in his eyes.

"I don't wanna stay any longer, clubbing isn't really my thing." You said, a hint of pleading in your tone.

"Soon, baby, okay?" Lando said, not even giving you a chance to protest before turning back to his DJ set.

You sighed in defeat, before retreating to a quieter corner of the club.

It was going to be a long night, like any other you've spent in a club, with Lando.

Summer 2024

Max Fewtrell added a photo to their story.

tagged: @/LandoNorris

yourusername added a photo to their story.

tagged: @/LandoNorris

Lando Norris added a photo to their story.

caption: taking pictures of my pretty girl

tagged: @/lando.jpg @/yourusername

yourusername ibizaaaa im backk

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, alexandrasaintmleux and 107,897 others

tagged: @/LandoNorris @/yourbestfriend @/MaxFewtrell

alexandrasaintmleux miss you! ♥ by author

lilymhe ditch him for me!!! ♥ by author

➥ yourusername say less 💍

➥ landonorris ???????? @/AlexAlbon

➥ alexalbon atp im used to it

user1 both of them are so pretty its not fair

user2 no DJ Lando content?!

user3 Not even following y/n because she's lando's girlfriend, im following her bc she's Y/N

user4 that jawline

user5 why do they keep going back to Ibiza

➥ user6 litt, like, why can't they go literally ANYWHERE ELSE

user7 OMGOMGMG I WAS tHERE AND I SAW LANDO GO UP TO Y/N FROM BEHIND AND LITERALLY PULLED HER INTO HIM BY THE WAIST AHHHHHHHHHH

➥ user8 WHATTTTT

➥ user9 picture or it didn't happen

user10 dj lando...?

-

You were about to head to the bar to get another drink, seeing as Lando wouldn't want to leave anytime soon, and your best friend was probably hooking up with some hot Spanish guy, when you felt a pair of familiar arms wrap themselves around your waist, the familiar scent of Lando's cologne surrounding you, along with the smell of alcohol.

Lando nuzzled his head into your neck, mumbling something quietly, so quiet you couldn't hear him over the club music.

"What is it?" You said, raising your voice slightly, so he could hear you over the loud buzzing of the club music.

"Nothing." He mumbled, "Missed you, is all."

A small smile unwittingly showed up on your face, "Im gonna go get a drink. Go party."

But, Lando shook his head, "Can we go back to the hotel? I wanna cuddle." He said into your neck, instinctively pulling you closer.

You were shocked, to say the least. A year ago, he wouldn't leave the club no matter how hard you tried to convince him. He was a party animal, but now, he was asking if you wanted to leave.

You checked the time on your phone, it was barely midnight, Lando never left anything before midnight, let alone a club.

"Why, are you feeling sick?" You asked him, turning around to face him.

His arms wrapped themselves back around your waist, "What?" He asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. "No." He said, "just wanna cuddle with you."

"That's new." You commented as you brought your arms up to wrap around his neck.

"I always wanna cuddle." Lando said.

"Yeah, but not at the extent of leaving the club early." You said.

"Can we please go?" He mumbled again, looking at you like a puppy.

You nodded after a few seconds, "Never liked clubbing that much anyway, I only come to be with you."

As Lando and you and Lando were heading towards the exit of the club, you bumped into Max (Fewtrell). "Leaving so soon?" He asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Yeah," Lando nodded, "Going back to the hotel to cuddle with my girl." He said, raising you hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

"You've really changed him," Max joked, "Lando being the first to leave? Never in a billion years."

You laughed, "Believe me, I don't believe it either."

"Can we go?" Lando all but whined.

You laughed again, "Okay, okay, lets go."

You waved goodbye to Max and led Lando out the club, and when Max saw his best friend look at you like you were the one who hung the stars in the sky, he knew you'd changed him for the better. And that his best mate was well and truly, in love.

-

yourusername sleepy boy chronicles 🤪

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, yourbestfriend and 108,950 others

tagged: @/LandoNorris

landonorris at least I look cute ♥ by author

➥ yourusername can't disagree with that

user1 how does one fall asleep in the middle of packing?

user2 hes jus like us  🥺

➥ user3 relatable king

landonorris I was only that tired because you kept me up all night doing cardio..

user4 lando and y/n are so cute tgt I cannot

user5 Im convinced Lando only made it to 24 because of Y/n

➥ yourusername I mean..

➥ landonorris hey!

user6 Lando has no bad angles

user7 I SAW THAT LANDO

➥ user8 y/n is just a girl and lando is just a boy.. they need their cardio ;) ♥ by author

➥ user8 Y/N PLS MARRY ME

landonorris ❤️

liked by yourusername, maxfewtrell, carlossainz55 and 709,897 others

yourusername is this what you do in your free time? take pictures of pretty girls?

➥ landonorris only of the ones that I love more than anything

➥ yourusername so you're saying there's more than one? 🤨

maxfewtrell Happy for you, mate ♥ by author

comments are limited

[sttoru]

‘toji doesn’t know how to properly give aftercare — nor did he care to do so before. but, meeting you changed his ways of thinking.’

☀︎｜toji fushiguro x female reader. suggestive; fluff, comfort, angst. established relationship. hint of an age gap between toji and reader. mention of virgin!reader. mention of toji’s previous / past wife. grumpy sad dilf toji who learns how to love again t_t. reader gets called ‘doll, little girl’. self indulgent? yessir.

toji grunts and his exhausted body collapses to the side, careful not to crush you underneath his burly figure. he drapes one arm over his eyes with the other resting near his side. his eyelids felt heavy — clearly needing some rest after hours of continuous bodily satisfaction.

he had gone a bit overboard this once. even toji himself was feeling the aftermath since his muscles were aching and his brain was telling him to go to sleep. the assassin was about to, however his ears picked up on a little muffled whimper sounding from beside him.

“mmph,” you sniff. your face was still buried in the pillow below you — your tears and drool staining the material. your limbs were trembling and you were completely and utterly spent. you couldn’t even turn around to lay on your back; it was all just too much.

toji watches you with an unchanging expression for a second. normally for him this would be the part where he’d get the money, dress himself back up and leave through the front door with a small ‘thanks for your time’ comment.

but, that was his past. that was after the death of his wife and before he had met you — that was a dark time where he sought money in any kind of way to ease the hidden guilt and pain in his body. he’d sleep with women for a pay check. and maybe also to simply forget about his miserable life.

toji thought that he wouldn’t ever love himself nor another person again after his life went downhill. though, that thought was proven wrong by you.

you were a girl whom he had met on numerous occasions by accident to the point you decided to exchange phone numbers. you had also eventually started to help toji with his son - megumi - during tough times.

a sweet young woman: that’s what you were and still are in his eyes. maybe you were the change toji needed. the miracle to heal from his past and get himself together.

“hey,” the dark-haired man speaks up in a gruff tone after taking in your weak state. he felt a faint twinge of guilt deep within him since he was the reason you ended up like that. perhaps he took it too far.

you looked up at toji through half-closed and watery eyes. all you could do was tiredly hum in response, “mhm?”

silence follows. it’s not really awkward, but there was a barely noticeable sense of insecurity radiating from the assassin. for the first time in a good while.

toji’s eyes dart around the room in hopes of finding or seeing something that would remind him of what to do in such a situation. aftercare; he knew how important that is after sex, but had forgotten how to properly execute it. he hadn’t done so in a good few years.

that could also be an excuse. maybe he was simply afraid to show any kind of affection to someone again. maybe.

despite all of it — despite all those complex thoughts and feelings — his body moved on its own command. toji shifted closer to your side, rough hand slowly reaching out to give you some head pats. that’s the best he could do for now.

“heh.” you chuckle, yet felt extremely happy that toji had shown any type of affection toward you in such a vulnerable moment. his fingers massaging your scalp gently, over and over, was enough of a sign for you. a sign that he cares.

you knew all about his hard life; past and present. you accepted toji for who he was and what he has done and does. one of the only people who’d stay by his side throughout it all.

“thanks, toji.” the words that left your lips made the older man silently nod. his touch grew a bit more confident after your positive reaction. his hand traveled down to the nape of your neck and over to your shoulder, turning you around so you could lay comfortably on your back.

toji couldn’t help but let his eyes wander across your gorgeous skin. even if it was sweaty and covered in other bodily fluids, it still was one of the most beautiful sights he had seen in his entire life.

“you okay?” he asks to which you give a weary nod. she’s far from okay judging by the looks of it, toji thought to himself.

he hesitantly leans his head down to plant a quick kiss on your shoulder. that did feel a bit awkward, though it turned loving the more you positively reinforced him with your verbal reactions.

toji sighs as he tries his best to keep you as comfortable as possible around him. his hands grab you by your sides and he hoists you up onto his lap, gently pushing your head against his chest; “c’mere my little girl.”

you happily accept the affection toji gives you. it wasn’t often that he’d do this after sex and you understand why. it takes a lot to heal from his previous wounds and you were there to support him throughout that journey. the fact that he was trying was enough.

“you’re nice ‘n warm,” you murmur, eyes droopy as you snuggle against toji’s bare chest. the older man chuckles at your comment and his big hands come to rest on your back to hold you in place — to give you a sense of security.

you didn’t have any regrets about tonight nor about any other night spent in bed with him. toji was the only man whom you were content with showing your body to. he’d never judge nor hurt you in any way, unlike the other more immature men in your indirect environment.

plus, you remember how unexpectedly gentle the big and scary looking man was with you during your first time a few days back. he was the perfect man for you in your eyes—in his own way.

“y’r real pretty. like a doll.”

the sudden compliment forces you awake. you blink thrice, trying to make sense of what you had heard. was it your imagination? no, it definitely sounded like toji. that deep and now almost groggy voice.

you lift your head up and lock eyes with the assassin. he was looking right back at you whilst the pad of his thumb delicately wipes some drool off your right cheek. you quietly stared at him for a good while which makes toji raise an eyebrow in confusion.

“pfft.” you let out a short laugh. you were both embarrassed and amused at the loving words that the older man had told you out of the blue. it made you feel tingly all over in a good way.

“what? did i say somethin’ weird?” toji questions as his hands slowly roam all over your body like they usually would, squeezing and rubbing longer in some spots, “i jus’ said what i observed.”

there was no hiding that lopsided grin on toji’s lips. the soft sound of your laughter was enough to make his entire body relax and give in to the warmth of the moment and the love that radiates between you two. you really were meant to be with him.

“no, no.” you shake your head after giggling. your lips find a spot on his chest to place a kiss upon in response, “it was cute.”

toji huffs at being called cute. no one had ever called him that. it didn’t really hurt his pride or ego — you could call him anything you wanted to and he wouldn’t mind. his rough hand does however give you a light smack on the ass after that.

“y’re lucky i love you, doll.” he grumbles and nuzzles his nose into your hair. the words left his lips before his brain had processed them. it was probably said subconsciously since toji doesn’t realise that he uttered the three words. the three words he usually hesitates on saying now flowing off the tongue so naturally.

you weren’t going to ruin the moment by teasing him about it. you were just happy that toji didn’t think twice before telling you that he loved you this time. it was a huge step forward in your relationship.

you simply giggle some more before placing a kiss on his lips that he instantly reciprocates.

“i love you too, toji.”

[pucksandpower]

hiii! with the chaos that was today’s career, could I request one with driver reader that she started telling her team that she wasn’t feeling good but still wanted to continue but the next moment she isn’t answering her radio because she fainted in the car and the car goes out, the marshals take her out of the car and she doesn’t wake up, maybe she has extreme dehydration and is hot to touch, etc.

How the other drivers react when they found out, her team, etc.

Thank you

Too Hot To Handle

Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader

Summary: the Qatar Grand Prix pushed every driver to the limit … and some past the limit

Warnings: heat stroke, dehydration, crash, medical conditions

The Lusail International Circuit hums with electric anticipation, its asphalt ribbon shimmering under the floodlights. The roar of the crowd fills the night but the oppressive heat weighs on everyone, creating a contrasting atmosphere of excitement and cautious apprehension.

Standing alongside your Red Bull Racing car, you wipe a bead of sweat from your brow. In only your first year with the reigning double champions, you already have a record that has quickly become the talk of the paddock. But for all the praise and whispers, there is one voice that stands out.

“Remember, liefje, it’s not just about speed tonight. Keep hydrated, alright?” Max’s voice is full of warmth and concern. His hand rests gently on your arm.

You flash him a confident smile even though you’re battling your nerves internally. “I’ve raced in heat before, Maxie. I won in Singapore. I’ll be fine.”

He pulls you into a quick embrace, the temperature doing little to dampen the spark between you. “It’s different here. This heat ... it’s like nothing I’ve ever raced in before.”

Pulling back, you raise an eyebrow teasingly. “You worried about me, Verstappen?”

He laughs but there’s a hint of steely seriousness in his blue eyes. “Always. Just ... promise me you’ll be careful out there. For both our sakes.”

You nod, touching your helmet to his. “Promise.”

The intercom in your ear crackles to life. “Drivers, to your cars!”

You both exchange a final glance. Racing is in your blood, it’s what brought you together, but it also keeps you apart, if only for the few hours you’re no longer partners in life but competitors on track.

Sliding into your car, you secure your helmet and gloves. The world outside becomes a bit muffled but your focus sharpens. The engine’s purr is a familiar comfort, but tonight, it’s edged with the unease Max’s words left behind.

Your race engineer, Hugh Bird, checks in over the radio, “Everything good, Y/N?”

You take a deep breath, “As good as it’ll ever be. Let’s light up this track.”

“Give them a show.”

Lights out and away we go.

***

The Qatar Grand Prix unfolds with its usual mix of intensity and skill, drivers navigating tight turns and overtaking with precision. But beneath the spectacle, a subtle tension mounts. The oppressive heat, the stark floodlights, and the weight of expectation — all of it seems to be building to something.

In the garage and on the pit wall, your team closely monitors the race and your performance. Hugh occasionally chimes in with updates, “You’re doing great, Y/N. Remember to hydrate whenever you need to.”

You nod even though he can’t see it, “Understood. The heat’s something else in here.”

A pause. Then, “Just keep stead. And Max told GP to tell me to tell you to remember what he said.”

A smile touches your lips, “I always do.”

***

The track is a blur as you push your car to its limits, feeling the adrenaline surge in tandem with the roar of the engines. It’s as if the heat has seeped into your very core, burning with intensity. Each lap feels slightly longer, every turn a tad sharper, as the humid air takes its toll.

“Y/N,” Hugh radioes through, sounding distant and slightly distorted by the pounding in your head, “you’re P2. Great pace. Remember to sip some water.”

A trickle of sweat runs down the side of your face, stinging your eye. Blinking rapidly, you reach for the button that activates your hydration system.

“Got it,” your voice sounds foreign even to your own ears. The water is lukewarm and tastes metallic, not as refreshing as you had hoped.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” he urges.

With every lap, the world outside your visor seems to grow brighter, the floodlights shimmering like mirages in a desert. The race has become a battle, not just against other drivers but against the environment and, increasingly, against yourself.

“You’re dropping pace. Is everything alright?” Hugh’s concerned voice crackles through.

A knot tightens in your stomach. “I don’t know. I ...” You trail off, the words catching in your throat as a wave of overwhelming dizziness hits.

You can hear the alarm in your engineer’s voice becoming more pronounced. “Y/N, talk to me. Do we need to pit?”

The heat wraps around you, constricting, making it difficult to breathe. Your hands, slick with sweat, struggle to grip the wheel even through your gloves. “Guys ... I don’t ... feel ...” The world spins and your words falters.

“Y/N? Y/N, talk to me!”

But before you can respond, before you can even finish your sentence, the world tilts and blurs into an incomprehensible whirlwind. The sweltering heat, the relentless pursuit of victory, and the weight of expectation converge into a maelstrom that engulfs you entirely.

Your hands, once deftly steering the RB19, now hang limply by your sides. The car veers off the track, careening towards the barriers. Panic rises in you but it’s too late. Your body refuses to act.

The deafening sound of metal against metal fills your ears, followed by the nauseating sensation of impact. The world outside your cockpit twists and spins, a kaleidoscope of colors and chaos. Then, abruptly, it all goes dark.

In the garage, your team watches in horror as the monitors show the violent crash. The radio falls silent, the connection severed. In that heartbeat, the world goes eerily quiet, punctuated only by the distant echoes of screeching tires and the blaring alarms.

Moments pass like hours and finally the static on the radio clears, replaced by your frantic race engineer, “—please respond. Y/N? Are you okay?”

But there’s no response. Your world remains shrouded in darkness as the circuit comes to a standstill, gripped by an eerie silence that drowns out even the most deafening of cheers.

The track is plunged into chaos. Red flags wave fervently, signaling danger. Marshals rush towards your wrecked car, their fluorescent jackets contrasting brightly against the night.

“Get her out! Get her out!” One of the marshals shouts as they reach your car. Your limp form is carefully extracted and they begin immediate first aid. The severity of the situation is clear — the heat, the dehydration, it’s all taken its toll.

The crowd watches, a collective gasp filling the air soon replaced by a thick, heavy silence. As your unconscious form is stretchered away, the weight of all those warnings crashes down.

Back on the pit wall, four words whispered into the radio are the first of many about to turn your boyfriend’s world upside down.

“Safety car, safety car.”

***

“Max, we’re pitting this lap. Box, box,” the calm, steady voice of Gianpiero Lambiase, Max’s race engineer, instructs over the radio.

Max’s voice is curt, his mind still on the race. “Why? Tires feel fine.”

“Non-negotiable. Safety car is out. We need you to pit now.”

The urgency in GP’s voice is not lost on Max and he immediately senses that something is wrong. “What happened? Why is there a safety car?”

Silence follows for a heartbeat too long. “There was an incident. Just focus on your race.”

An icy dread seeps into Max’s bones. The circuit is massive yet his world feels terribly small at this moment. “Who was it? Who crashed?”

His engineer hesitates, and in that pause, the weight of a thousand possibilities presses on Max.

“Who. Was. It?”

GP wavers, “It’s … Y/N.”

Max’s breathing becomes ragged. Panic and fear flood his system. “Why the hell wasn’t I told immediately?”

“It was team orders. The decision was made to keep you focused on the race.”

Max laughs but it lacks any humor. “Team orders? You’re saying Christian decided not to tell me that Y/N ... my Y/N is hurt?”

“Yes,” the reply is uncharacteristically soft, “It was believed to be in everyone’s best interest for you to be fully focused on the race.”

Max has never felt such white-hot rage. He spits into the radio, seething with fury and pain. “You tell Christian that if he ever makes a decision like that again about someone I love, I’ll cut his balls off with a rusty spoon.”

“Max, I understand you’re upset. But right now, we need you to stay focused.”

Stay focused? When the love of his life is in potential danger? The weight of what that means presses down, threatening to crush him. “I need to see her,” he finally rasps out, voice breaking.

The plea hangs in the air, met by another long silence. Finally, the radio clicks on again, softer than ever. “Y/N would want you to finish. You know that. Win this for her.”

Tears blur Max’s vision, mixing with the sweat already pooling in his helmet, but he nods, a silent assent. The roaring engine now sounds distant, the glinting lights a backdrop to the storm that rages within him. Every second is an eternity, every turn a test of his resolve to keep racing. But Max drives on, pushing his limits for you.

Every fiber of his being silently screams your name, a prayer or a promise or both, Max doesn’t know. All he knows is that the faster he crosses the finish line, the sooner he can be with you.

For the world watching, the race continues, cars whizzing by. But for Max Verstappen, each lap, each second, is a race against his own heart, torn between duty and desperate love.

***

“Her pulse is erratic! Get the defibrillator ready!” A medic shouts as the emergency team frantically works around you, the ambulance parked haphazardly nearby.

Another voice, calmer but filled with urgency, counters, “Wait, give her a moment. She might come around.”

“Come on, Y/N,” A young medic mutters, pressing an oxygen mask to your face. “Don’t do this.”

The ambulance door opens again, the head medic speaking into a radio, “We need an airlift, now. The situation’s deteriorating rapidly.”

Another voice, muffled, replies, “The helicopter’s on its way! Clear the area.”

As the medics continue to administer aid, working desperately to stabilize you, the chief medic tries to maintain order, “Every second counts. This heat stroke is severe, coupled with dehydration ... it’s a nightmare scenario.”

“We should have had more cooling stations,” the younger medic mutters. “The humidity coupled with the heat ... it’s brutal tonight. And we’re not even the ones out there driving.”

The older medic takes a deep breath. “That is on the organizations. We can’t fix there mistakes but we can focus on what happening now and do everything we can to get her through this.”

The thrum of helicopter blades soon overwhelms the noise of the circuit, growing louder as it approaches. Soon, the bright light from its landing spotlight punctuates the night. “The helicopter’s here!” Someone shouts.

“Alright, team, on three,” the chief medic commands. They work in perfect sync, lifting you carefully but quickly, your body still unresponsive.

As they approach the helicopter, the pilot shouts over the roar, “We’ve got the best onboard. She’s in good hands.”

“She’s one of our best,” the younger medic shouts back. “She has to be okay.”

The chief medic, securing you inside, murmurs more to himself than anyone else, “Come on, Y/N. The race isn’t over. Keep fighting.”

***

“You expect me to smile and stand on that podium knowing she’s been airlifted to a hospital?” Max’s voice trembles with rage as he confronts the FIA officials blocking his way.

“Mr. Verstappen, there are rules, procedures,” an official replies stiffly.

“Rules? Y/N might be fighting for her life right now and you want to talk to me about rules?” Max’s hands clench and unclench as he physically holds himself back from throwing a punch.

Another official steps forward, trying to mediate, “Max, we understand your feelings but millions of viewers are watching. The podium is an essential part of the race.”

Max’s eyes flash with anger. “You think I care about a trophy when my girlfriend is in a hospital? Do you really think that piece of metal means anything to me right now?”

“We sympathize— ” the first official begins but is cut off by Max’s heated response.

“You sympathize? Do you even know what that word means?” He’s on the verge of breaking, voice barely above a whisper as he continues, “She is everything to me. Everything. And you want me to smile and wave for the cameras?”

The air grows thick with tension. The two drivers from McLaren waiting for their cue to go to the podium are silent, their eyes darting between Max and the officials.

A new voice interjects , “Let him go.”

It’s Lewis Hamilton, who despite DNFing early in the race, made his way across the paddock after seeing the distress on his rival’s face. “There are things more important than a ceremony.”

The officials exchange glances, clearly not expecting this intervention. But before they can reply, Max levels them with a final scathing look. “Fine me if you must! Penalize me! Suspend me for all I care! But I am going to her.”

And off he goes.

***

A nurse at the desk recognizes Max immediately when he runs into the hospital. “Mr. Verstappen,” she begins hesitantly, “Miss Y/L/N is in the ICU. Room 302.”

He doesn’t need any further prompting to sprint down the hall. Reaching the room, he stops dead in his tracks. You’re there, surrounded by machines that beep and whirr, tubes running to and from you, an oxygen mask on your face. The sight of you, once so full of life, now frail and vulnerable, breaks him.

His voice, when he finally managed to finds it, is a choked whisper, “Y/N ...”

Approaching the bedside, Max gently takes your hand, feeling its clamminess. “Hey, liefje ... it’s me,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles. His tears fall freely, wetting the back of your hand.

“Come on, love,” his voice cracks as he continues, “You’ve got to pull through this. For us.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, tracing the familiar curves and lines he’s come to adore. “Remember that time in Monaco? When we snuck out for that secret dinner that our trainers would have killed us for? We promised each other forever that night. You can’t leave me now. Not when we’ve got so many more memories left to make.”

The room’s silence is punctuated only by the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor in a cruel reminder of the fragility of the moment.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs. “Please ... please come back to me.”

Leaning in, he rests his forehead against yours, allowing the weight of his anguish, love, and hope to flow between the two of you in the sterile room.

***

Nothing has changed. The steady beep of the heart monitor still punctuates the silence of the hospital room. Max sits vigilantly at your bedside, his hand gently clasping yours.

It’s been three days since the crash and you still have not woken up. The doctors say your condition is stable but uncertain.

Max leans in close and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Morning, liefje. I’m still here. Not going anywhere.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch impossibly gentle as if you might break. In the stark hospital lighting, the dark circles under his eyes are visible. Sleep hasn’t come easy to him, not with you lying here.

A soft knock at the door draws Max’s attention. Hugh pokes his head in hesitantly. “Hey, Max. Any change?”

Max shakes his head, swallowing hard. “Nothing yet. But she’s fighting. I know she is.”

Your race engineer steps further into the room, his expression solemn. “I should have seen the signs earlier. Pushed her to hydrate more. Slowed her pace.” His voice catches, “It was my job to look out for her.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” Max says firmly. “Y/N is stubborn. We both know that. She wanted to prove herself.” A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “It’s what makes her brilliant.”

Hugh pulls up a chair on the opposite side of the bed. For a moment, the two men sit in pensive silence. Then your race engineer speaks again, softer this time. “Has she ... has she responded at all? Squeezed your hand or anything?”

Max clenches his jaw and stares past Hugh at the blank wall. “No. Nothing yet. But I know she can hear me. I tell her about training, the team ... I update her on everything. She’ll want to jump right back in when she wakes up.”

Footsteps approach and a nurse enters, checking the equipment and your vitals. After making some notes on a chart, she offers an encouraging smile. “No change but she seems stable. Just keep talking to her. Familiar voices help.”

After she departs, Hugh leans forward, clasping your still hand. “Hear that, Y/N? You’ve got to wake up. The team needs you. Your fans are all rooting for you. And ...” His voice cracks. “I need my driver back.”

Max looks at him gratefully. “We all need her back.” Reaching out, he gives your race engineer’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Another knock sounds. This time, it’s Christian. His face is etched with guilt and worry. “Max. Any improvement today?”

Max’s expression hardens. He hasn’t forgotten Christian’s decision to withhold news of your crash. But his voice remains even as he responds to the team principal. “Nothing new.”

Christian pulls up a chair next to Hugh. He chooses his next words carefully. “Max, I need to apologize. I made the wrong call that night. You deserved to know immediately about Y/N. My priorities were skewed.” His voice shakes slightly. “Seeing her like this ... I would give anything to go back and change what I did.”

Max studies him for a long moment and some of the hardness leaves his eyes. “I appreciate that. But right now, the past doesn’t matter. All that matters is her getting better.”

Christian nods. Reaching out, he gently smoothes your hair. “You hear that, Y/N? We’re all here for you. Your whole team. Now you need to come back to us.”

A heavy silence settles on the room once more. The three of them remain clustered around the bed … keeping vigil … willing you to show any small sign of recovery.

After some time passes, the ringing of Hugh’s phone snaps the three men out of their thoughts. “Sorry to interrupt,” your press officer’s voice filters through the speaker, “but the team’s on the line. They want to send their well wishes to Y/N.”

Hugh glances at Max questioningly who nods, “Patch them through. Let the whole team remind her why she needs to wake up.”

A smile tugs at your race engineer’s lips. “You got it. Go ahead, team. She can hear you.”

A chorus of voices floods the room. Your mechanics, pit crew, strategists, PR team … everyone chimes in with encouraging messages.

“Come on, Y/N! We need our star girl back on the grid.”

“You can do this, kid. You’re the toughest one out there!”

“We all believe in you. Keep fighting!”

Max grips your hand tighter, emotions threatening to spill over. Even Christian and Hugh have sheens of tears in their eyes.

“Alright,” your race engineer says after the team signs off. “You heard them. Time to wake up.”

And that’s when Max feels it. A short, weak squeeze of his hand.

Then your eyelids begin to flutter.

“Y/N?” Max leaps to his feet, leaning over you anxiously. “Can you hear me?”

Slowly, painfully, your eyes open, taking in the scene around you. Confusion clouds your expression. “M-Max?” You rasp.

A brilliant smile breaks across Max’s face. Relief floods through him so powerful that his knees nearly buckle as he chokes out, “Yes, yes it’s me! You’re back, liefje. You’re really back.”

Hugh lets out a shaky laugh, scrubbing a hand across his face. “Welcome back, superstar.”

You try to speak again but Max hushes you gently. “Save your strength. We’ve got all the time in the world to talk.”

Christian grins, looking years younger. “Oh thank god. I need to tell the team. They’ll be thrilled. Welcome back, Y/N.” He hurries from the room, phone already in hand.

Your race engineer squeezes your shoulder. “Get some rest. We’ll all be here when you wake up.”

As he and the nurse move discreetly out of the room, you gaze up at Max. “You ... you stayed.”

Max lifts your hand to his lips, blinking back tears. “Of course I stayed. I’ll always stay by your side.”

He leans down, pressing his lips against your chapped ones. All the fear, the uncertainty, the heartache of the past few days melts away.

You’re back. You’re really back. And Max knows, without a shred of doubt, that your lives from this day on will be greater and more meaningful than all your wildest dreams.

***

In the following days, drivers from across the grid make the pilgrimage to your hospital room. They come bearing gifts — flowers, balloons, even a nearly life-size plush race car. But more importantly, they come bearing a message.

“That race should never have happened,” Lewis says solemnly, handing you a get-well card covered in signatures. “The heat was dangerous. We should have acted sooner.”

Esteban grips your hand tightly. “I’m sorry, Y/N. We should have spoken up about the conditions sooner. We all suffered but you suffered most.”

“Your crash woke us all up,” Lance adds. “No trophy is worth risking drivers’ safety even more than we already do each race.”

You’re moved by their solidarity but sigh knowingly. “The FIA would never have listened to just one driver saying something. But maybe they’ll listen to all of us.”

Max’s jaw clenches, residual anger simmering beneath the surface. “They have to listen. We won’t race in unsafe conditions again.”

The other drivers nod, They know the power that you all wield together and for the first time in a long time, you are going to use it.

In a show of outspoken unity, the GPDA drafts a strongly worded letter condemning the lack of caution around extreme heat and demanding tangible changes to make sure drivers aren’t put in avoidable jeopardy.

All twenty of you threaten to strike.

To your surprise, the FIA not only apologizes for the oversight but pledges to implement the requested changes immediately.

“Your crash was a wake-up call,” the FIA president says solemnly during a visit to your hospital room. “We should have protected you better. That will never happen again.”

When he departs, you let out a long breath, leaning back against the pillows. The anger and hurt from that night haven’t disappeared entirely but you feel a sense of hope, that some good has come from the experience.

Max clasps your hand between both of his. “What you went through is unacceptable but you used that to make the sport safer for every driver out there. I’m so proud of you.”

You give him a tired smile. “We did this together. All of us.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Get some rest. When you’re better, we’ve got plenty more checkered flags to take. Side by side.”

The long road to full recovery still lies ahead. But with Max by your side, and all the drivers behind you, you know everything will be okay.

The race goes on but it will be a safer race thanks to you.