#So They Have.... The Same Birthday. Correct

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Your Yuu is and will ALWAYS be valid!

For anyone who might need to read this.

I saw a tweet about this and some people talking about it here on tumblr, and I honestly feel like I'm saying something obvious but I want to reiterate the following:

Schrodinger's Yuu: All Prefects are canon and not at the same time. Self Inserts included and especially.

The anime, manga, and novel are adaptations, correct? Which means the game's story will always be the original story, right? (this is a rhetorical question)

This isn't even a case of a series, book or movie where fans simply start imagining themselves in a story that has nothing to do with them.

NO, we didn't make ourselves the main characters of the story, the GAME made us the main characters of the story. One of the main mechanics of the game is to insert ourselves into that world.

Self Inserts or OCs prefects have always been part of the game experience and story.

All this to say that no matter what prefects appear in the anime or appeared in the manga, they are not the real prefects because there is no "real/canon" prefect, because both they and we are ALL the "real/canon" prefect. The character default name is literally Yu/Yuu (You).

And that's not just something we decided, it was always the intention of the game. They knows our names and wishes us a happy birthday.

And if you want to ship yourself with the characters, guess what, you can! I myself can't help but do it. Because let's face it the game kinda indulges you to do that. And if you don't want to do it, you can not do it too!

So whatever comes with the anime release, don't let potential new annoying "fans" ruin your enjoyment of Twisted Wonderland when the game itself wants you to be able to enjoy it this way. ❤️

The only people who can tell you what is canon or not are the people who make the game, not other fans like you or me. Whatever fans say are opinions, not facts, just like this post, you choose to give it whatever importance you want.

And at the end of the day Twisted Wonderland is just a game: the most important thing is that YOU HAVE FUN however you want, not who is right about something. 😘❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk *mic drop*.

JOKING 😅😂

*comes back and pick up the mic again*

PS: And if there really wasn't going to be any kind of potentially friendly/romantic relationship with the player, explain the Valentine's Day merch. With messages written by the characters to those who buy the product! 😂 (it's a rhetorical question)

[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.

[crystalpallette]

"Huh? Which one did I like best?"

happy birthday to the girl who started it all!! arle nadja my beloved darling I wish you only the best and only the spiciest of curries on your special day. I'm sorry I couldnt integrate curry into this piece

[b4kuch1n]

1/ this bout of comms almost done and 2. spawndate in 3 days so I have! been fixin up some stuff for the itch store. that'll go live on the 29th! right now there Is a pack of the lineart stuff I did last year for folks who found that agreeable, still free to grab! for practicing coloring, or if you wanna mess around with colors when ur not feelin like doing lineart, or if you wanna try to figure out colors in a drastically different style than what you usually go for. or if u just wanna look at it that's cool too. small announcement that is all see u in a few

[steampoweredskeleton]

Ignore

[friendly-neighborhood-furry]

so an update on the glasses situation:

after some consideration, my mom and i have decided to get the prescription updated later. she's gonna call the place first thing tomorrow morning to check if they still have my glasses (which they probably do) and ask to have them back. then after everything's calmed down we'll get the prescription updated.

so hopefully i WONT actually have to go 1-2 weeks without functional vision. YIPPEE!!

[green-eyes-and-orange-ties]

NSP Character's Zodiac signs

♑ Capricorn: Wesley Hastings, Kerrim Caulfield, Quin

♒ Aquarius: Dr Feldman, Dr Lam

♓ Pisces: Jenny Holt

♈ Aries: Alex Kelly, Vivian Godfrey

♉ Taurus: Diego & Vanessa Alvarez

♊ Gemini: Justin James, Olivia Lark

♋ Cancer: Cam (beloved) Archer, Phoebe Chen

♌ Leo: Mira Zafar, Lea Parrish, Spencer Williams, Piers Almeida

♍ Virgo: Angelo Volta, Miles Beaumont, Heather Duran

♎ Libra: Agent Rayner

♏ Scorpio: Sebastian, Dagger (beloved), Lisa Fen, Joey Finch

♐ Sagittarius: Adair North

[harmonybarmy]

Dean angrily asking "haven't you ever read the bible?" like make me want your ass more I dare you.

[nerdie-faerie]

Me: okay maybe I should finally dig out my wall calendar as I'm having trouble keeping track of extended family's birthdays

Me, while redoing said calendar because it's messy: why are there so many birthdays in may and july? it's just considerate

[mymelodyisme]

Just remembered how in fourth grade there was a new girl in our class so I introduced myself and spent the whole day with her so she had a friend and she made new friends the next day and didn’t hang out with me after that,,,,

[fastandcarlos]

"Uncle Charles?" : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: for the first time charles feels as if he's part of your family, all thanks to your car obsessed niece

Your hand waved into the air as you noticed Charles appear in your parents’ garden, dressed still in bright red Ferrari after finishing for the day. There were children running around everywhere as you celebrated your niece’s birthday, with Charles appearing at the end of the day. 

Despite you assuring Charles that he didn’t need to worry about attending, he was adamant he was going to make the time. When he appeared, your family were more than surprised, knowing just how busy Charles had been as the start of the new season loomed. 

As Charles made his way over to you though, he was intercepted by a voice calling out his name, a figure running across and leaping up into his arms. Charles stumbled back as your niece leapt up and gave him a hug, her arms going tightly around his neck as Charles held onto her waist, carrying her over to where you sat. 

“Happy birthday cherie,” Charles grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You look like you’re having a good time,” he added, taking a look around the garden. 

“I was waiting for you to arrive,” she excitedly told him. 

As Charles sat down beside you, he placed your niece back onto the ground, but she refused to let him go. With her still holding on, he leant across and pressed a kiss to your cheek to try and greet you, but your niece was having none of it. 

“Did training go well?” You asked, unable to hold back your laughter as your niece invited herself to sit up in Charles’ lap, ignoring her friends who were calling for her to play with them. 

The bond that Charles had with your niece had always been close ever since they first met. He was beyond amazing with her, which your sister was particularly a big fan of, finding herself getting giddy whenever Charles was around, never quite being able to leave him alone for too long. 

“Yeah, for once, it actually went pretty well,” Charles smiled, his voice filled with relief after what could only be described as a tricky build into the preseason preparations. 

As he sat with your family though, he was reminded about what was important. As much as he wanted the car to do well, what mattered the most was the people around him, particularly the little one in his lap who was over the moon to be able to spend her birthday with him. 

“I’m happy that you managed to make it here though,” you told him, keeping your eyes on your niece, “and I think I know someone else who is pretty happy to have you here too.” 

If he was honest, Charles wouldn’t have missed it for the world, although your niece wasn’t on his side of the family, he still absolutely adored her. He wasn’t blind to how close they were too, knowing that she was counting on him to show up for her. 

“What’s been the highlight of your day princess?” Charles asked as your niece shifted to look up at him, her hands cupping against his cheeks. “There’s got to be one present that you can’t wait to show me later on tonight.” 

Her head nodded, turning round to face Charles properly again. “My favourite present is your present that you bought me,” she proudly told him, recalling the Ferrari car that you’d bought her, well, a child sized one at least. 

Charles’ smile turned up as she spoke, “I had a feeling that you’d like it. Maybe I can try and get some Ferrari clothes for you so that you can look the part too.” 

Your niece nodded instantly, “I want to be just like Uncle Charles, that would be awesome.” 

Your eyes flickered across to Charles, making sure that he was listening to. A gasp came from him, his eyes lighting up as he took a moment to make sure that he wasn’t just dreaming what he had heard. 

“Want to be like who?” Charles asked her, wanting to hear it one more time to make sure that he was correct. “Who is it that you want to be the same as?” 

“Uncle Charles,” she giggled, “I want to be able to drive really fast when I’m older and drive all of the cool cars.” 

“Uncle Charles,” Charles whispered to himself, “well, that’s pretty cool.” 

You reached across and pressed your hand against Charles’ shoulder to try and keep him together, sensing that he was feeling slightly overwhelmed. Your niece was unaware of what she had done, but hearing her finally call him uncle meant more to Charles then he could ever express. 

“I’m going to go and ask mummy if I can play with the car soon,” your niece told you both, climbing out of Charles’ lap. “I want you to show me how to do it before you go home so I can be as fast as you.” 

Charles helped her down before shifting his body to look around at you, letting go of a chuckle of disbelief. You smiled widely across at him, nudging against Charles’ arm gently. 

“You must be pretty important for her to call you uncle,” you told him, brushing your hand through his hair. “She absolutely adores you Charles, apparently you’ve got your own mini me in the future already too.” 

“She’s a good kid,” Charles hummed, still slightly in disbelief. “I’m trying to be chill about this, but inside my heart is absolutely racing right now.” 

You could tell from the look in his eyes that it meant the world to Charles, your family were all special to him, but the children in your family were a little more. He loved being around them, entertaining them and making them smile, which he seemed to do perfectly. 

“It sounds like I’ve got to find a pretty good present for next year too,” he chuckled, “do you think your sister might hate me for buying her a Ferrari?” 

“I dread to think the state her house will be in soon,” you sniggered. 

As guilty as Charles wanted to feel, seeing how excited your niece was about her gift made it all worth it for him. “I might have to go and apologise otherwise she’ll never speak to me again.” 

“Well, you’ve definitely won the competition for best present this year,” you joked, slipping your hand into his. “She won’t be mad at you for too long anyway, she adores you, my whole family do to be honest.” 

“They’re awesome,” Charles encouraged, “I’ve never known a group of people to make me feel so welcome in my life, I feel like I’ve always been here with you guys.” 

“Now you’ve got no choice but to be stuck with us too.” 

“I’m not complaining,” Charles noted, pulling you up from where you sat, twirling you around and letting you fall into his lap. Charles’ arms wrapped around your frame, allowing you to replace your niece in his hold. 

“Seems you’ve got a future as a driver coach too.” 

Charles’ head shook, unable to hide his excitement, knowing that over the next few days whilst he was home he’d be out playing with your niece, showing her the ropes of the new car that he’d bought her. 

“How does it feel to officially be an uncle?” You grinned, pressing a kiss against Charles’ cheek. 

“It feels pretty special indeed.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[rin-may-1103]

Delilah's language (part three)

Previous | Master Post | Next

Danny stood next to Mr. Bruce, watching as people milled around and chatted. a large group gathered right in front of them.

They had flown to Gotham last night, and Danny had been given a nice room to stay in at some fancy hotel. motel? which one was supposed to be fancy?

eh, either way, Danny settled into the room and promptly went back to sleep. He managed to get a total of twelve(12) hours of sleep before waking up. he spent the time after that just sitting and playing on his phone until his alarm went off.

that was two hours ago, and now here he was, standing in the middle of Gotham City Zoo at 8 in the morning. No one had noticed them yet, which Danny was greatly appreciative of; he had not been ready for this.

Sure, Mr. Bruce had said he invited all the scientists, but this? this was not what he was expecting.

he was expecting maybe one or two scientists to be standing around, watching Dalilah and her family as some rich kid hounded them for answers. they were scientist, surely, they had better things to do than attend some kid's birthday party.

but no.

All of them were here. All. Of. Them.

the whole scientific team was in attendance, and right in the middle of them was the birthday boy. his voice drowned out by the scientists all hungrily trying to force their knowledge into his brain.

oh dear ancients what had Danny agreed to?

suddenly, an older boy (slightly younger than Danny, it seemed) approached the group and turned the birthday boy to look in their direction. Danny's poor overstimulated enhanced hearing instantly zeroed in on what they were saying, a pool of dread settling in his stomach. "look, Damian. Bruce is back with that dude you wanted to meet."

Immediately, the kid's green eyes lit up in excitement as they settled on Danny and the kid's father. The boy promptly shoved past the other scientist and marched over to them, mouth somehow set into a scowl even though Danny could feel the kid's excitement increase tenfold. The older boy easily followed behind in amusement.

before the kid could open his mouth, Danny felt the air shift next to him. It wasn't a ghost, they wouldn't have been so obvious, and his sense hadn't gone off, so human then. (he should have heard them earlier, but with how loud it was? Danny wasn't too worried about how he had missed the person) which means, Danny couldn't react obviously or people would ask questions.

tensing up, to prevent his body from reacting on instinct, he waited for the person to act. Not even a second later, someone threw their arm around Danny's shoulders and pulled him close to their side, their voice bright and cheerful. "Damian! look who Bruce dragged in!"

Danny turned his head to glance at the man, he had black hair and blue eyes. This wasn't a surprise, considering almost all the kids Bruce adopted had the same features, so which one was this? One of the older ones, obviously, hmmm. Slim frame, but still musculer. perfect for swimming or gymnastics. So, that would mean, this was Dick Grayson, the oldest?

"tch," Damian scowled even more, "release him, Grayson." bingo. Danny had been correct then. and that was one heck of a scowl, how did the kid do that? Danny could feel he was happy at the sight of the older boy, but somehow, he looked like he'd rather be eating snails than deal with the man.

maybe he should introduce him to Sam, she'd love to learn how to do that.

"Alright! Alright!," Grayson chuckled, what was Danny supposed to call him? Dick or Grayson? Richard? "I'm just trying to be nice."

he turned to face Danny, releasing him from his grasp, his smile almost blinding, "Hi there! my name is Dick. Yes, that is my name. No, I'm not joking. It's nice to meet you, what's your name?"

Danny blinked, then hesitantly shook the man's hand. he should have stayed home, anything would have been better than this. oh, shit they're all looking at him now. "uh, my name's Danny. Danny Fenton."

"Danny! nice. So, what did you do to be invited?" Dick asked, resting his hands in his pockets and lifting a brow. Mr. Bruce had walked away a while ago, so Danny would have to deal with this himself it seems.

Damian rolled his eyes but looked curious as well.

"uh, Mr. Bruce," This got an immediate reaction from all three of them; their eyes widening in surprise and maybe a hint of glee, "invited me. something about how Damian wanted to learn how to speak with Dalilah."

"Really?" asked the other boy, Tim? "you can actually speak with them?"

"Tch, of course not, Drake. The purple-backed gorillas do not have a spoken language, they use their bodies to communicate. Daniel here is the only person in the world to figure out how to communicate with them."

"Don't call me that," Danny cut in, wincing when they turned to look at him, "my name's Danny, not Daniel."

"isn't Danny a nickname for Daniel?" Damian asked, his brows furrowed. "I do not call people by their nicknames, it creates a false familiar connection."

"Usually," Danny conceded, "but my name isn't Daniel. My parents chose Danny, it's not a nickname. and if you really don't want to call me that, then you can use my last name. It shouldn't be a problem considering I'm the only Fenton here."

"Oh," Damian blinked, then thought about it for a second, "Danny it is then."

The other two shared a glance, clearly surprised for whatever reason. Sighing, Danny waved his hand in agreement. The kid could call him whatever he wanted, just not Daniel. Anything but Daniel. (Ancients forbid if he gets called Dan.)

"Anyway, like you were saying. Delilah speaks with her body movements but there is a vocal part. It's a little like sign language and that one whistle language combined, but instead of just using your hands, facial movements, and whistles to communicate, you have to use your whole body. All at once."

Danny then rubbed his neck, "And I'm sure someone else would be able to speak with her if they just paid attention. It's not that hard."

"Not that hard?" Grayson asked, glancing at the gorillas. "how long did it take you to figure out her language then?"

"Oh," Danny blinked, then shrugged, "like, two hours. Like I said, it's really not that hard, you just have to watch her talk for a while."

"two hours?!" Tim, Danny's pretty sure his name was Tim, gaped, staring at Danny like he was nuts. which, Danny didn't appreciate by the way. "It only took you two hours to figure it out?"

Danny wasn't sure if he should feel offended or amused...

"That's impossible," someone scoffed, dragging all of their attention to an approaching scientist. "It takes upwards of three months to multiple years of hard work to even understand human sign language, let alone animal gestures. You couldn't have learned it in just two hours."

Danny rolled his eyes, he remembered this guy. Dr. Trynul or something or whatever, he absolutely refused to believe Danny the last time they talked. he was a real stick in the mud if Danny ever saw one.

"Danny Fenton is listed as the only person in the world to have the ability to communicate with the gorillas. It even says as much in the scientific papers your group released last month." Damian huffed, narrowing his eyes at the man.

Dr. Trynul rolled his eyes, "I requested they leave that false information out, but Mertil absolutely refused to listen to reason."

"and it's a good thing she didn't," another researcher cut in. Danny remembered her from the first time he had to talk with the scientist involved with Dalilah. Real stern but a nice lady.

"This young man can communicate with them just like he would if he was one of them. I've seen it with my own eyes." she then turned to the group, a small smile growing on her face.

"Danny, it's so good to see you again! Delilah has been just such a sweetheart, and her baby is just the cutest thing in the world. You have to come and see them."

Danny rubbed the back of his neck and smiled back, "Sure, Oh!" He turned back to Damian, "maybe I can introduce you to them if you haven't been already?"

The boy nodded his head, his excitement rolling off of him in yellow swirls. Turning back, Danny nodded his head with a small smile, "Please, lead the way."

Next

[writingouthere]

singlemom!reader x neighbor!sukuna. you miss having a baby and Sukuna is dying from a combination of your sexual tension, his lowkey(highkey) baby fever and the drudgery of attending a child's birthday party

cw: Sukuna's breeding kink, red flags are present and accounted for, no one gets laid tho so sad face. this actually ended up being way more sincere and heartfelt than I intended but honestly very typical of me

"Oh we're not together, Sukuna's just been letting me and Bug crash while we look for an apartment."

"Oh he's not my boyfriend, we're just friends!"

"He's actually not Bug's dad. No, no. But, they get along really well. She enjoys having someone else to hang out with aside from me, I think."

Your laughter after the last one plays on repeat as he goes to grab the two of you some refreshments. Sukuna feels like he's living the world's worst version of groundhog day, except instead of being some sad loser who relives the same day over and over, he's apparently a sad loser who is going to live the same conversation over and over again.

"Fuck this shit."

"Um, excuse me but could you watch your language. This is a kid's birthday party." Sukuna wants to ask the bitch who is correcting a grown man's language if he would mind watching his own fucking business but you seem to care about what these losers think and he won't make life difficult for you.

If he happens to step on the guy's foot as he leaves with two cups and a juice box caught in his elbow, well, his steel toed boots need the exercise.

Sukuna knew that if any of his acquaintances, he didn't have friends after all, could see him now, they would die laughing. Die ,because he would kill them for laughing, but fuck he couldn't even really blame them, even in his hypothetical.

Once upon a time, Sukuna was a feared criminal. People pissed themselves when he cornered them in a dark alley. Other bad guys would look at him and say, "wow that guy's a real piece of shit" and now look at him. Stuck at some three year old's birthday party. One more kidzpop butchering of an already shitty song away from committing another felony.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he knew he was at least getting some pussy out of it, but he had just spent the past two hours hearing you deny him to anyone who asked and it was really starting to get to him.

He knew he was being a little bitch about it, and he wasn't upset just because you weren't fucking him. He was upset that all the things you were telling people, they were technically true. He was just letting you and your daughter crash. He was just your friend, not your boyfriend. Even the comments about him not being Bug's dad, but him being positioned as some kind of really invested babysitter, those might have stung more than the ones about your relationship but you thought that was true too.

Thinking about the kid made him look for her, not that Sukuna ever wasn't aware of where you and your daughter were. It had become instinct before he was even aware of it.

Bug was laughing with some kids he recognized from daycare and others from their regular trips to the park. Her happiness was contagious and Sukuna found his lips twitching up at the ends despite his shitty mood.

Your daughter's eyes found him from across the playground. "kuna!" she called, waving her little hand at him. He waved back with his available hand and made his way towards her. She met him halfway, her little legs unsteady on the wood chips but she didn't seem to notice. She was always like that when she saw him, she ran fearlessly. Maybe she just trusted he'd catch her.

Was it so wrong of him that he didn't like the reminders she wasn't his. That it stung, not just because of his feelings but because it just couldn't be true. He might not have fathered her, but fuck anyone who said this little girl wasn't his.

"I got you a juice, you've been running around so much you gotta be thirsty."

"Not thirsty," Bug argued leaning into him. He held up his hands that were holding the grown up drinks for the two of you, and moved the package still lodged in the crease of his elbow towards the petulant toddler. "Take it, or I'll drink it."

Bug stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed it. She struggled to get the wrapping off the straw and Sukuna didn't even notice what he was doing until she had the straw stretched out towards him and he was pulling the wrapper off with his teeth. He spit it out on the ground as your daughter gave him a polite thank-you and then walked away, sipping her juice as she went to catch up with her friends.

What had become of him?

"Need a hand?" You smile at him and Sukuna hands over your cup before taking a sip of his own. There was unfortunately no alcohol in it but drinking it occupied his mouth before he acted like a pussy and asked you, "what are we?" or "should we get married?" or something equally as pathetic.

"God, I want a baby."

Sukuna almost spit out his drink but he manages to tone it down to just a little cough before turning to look at you. You don't even seem a little embarrassed which is just infuriating. Sukuna's about to make a suggestion on how he can help with that when you sigh and point to where some loser is holding their ugly baby.

"Aren't babies just the cutest, I miss when Bug was that age."

Oh, so this was just you looking at other people's red-faced brats and feeling nostalgic and was not in fact a call to action. Sukuna rolled his eyes and leaned back on the hand closest to you so he didn't touch you as he was so tempted to do these days.

"That baby, like all babies, is hideous. All they do is cry, shit themselves and vomit and I'm not even sure Bug is the exception to that and she's the best kid there is."

You look touched at his affection for your daughter but also fired up on behalf of babies everywhere.

"You can't just say a baby is hideous, Sukuna. Those are the Zenin's. Bug is friends with some of them."

"Well are the older ones cuter, because that baby looks like someone fucked one of those hairless cats."

"Sukuna!" you hiss but he sees you smile, despite yourself. "Okay, maybe that baby isn't like the cutest baby-"

"Hideous."

You continue after smacking his arm. "But Bug was cute, okay. And I'm not just saying that because I'm her mom." You take out your phone and quickly swipe until you get to what you're looking for. "See, cute baby."

Sukuna grabs your phone and looks. It's not the first picture he's seen of a young Bug and he's taken his share of photos of her himself, but he finds himself taken in by it anyway.

It has to be a picture from when Bug was really young, she still had the scrunched up, red face that he associates with newborns. But he thinks you're right, she's still cute. He doesn't know if it's because he knows that baby will grow up to be your daughter, but he finds his thumb caressing her little baby cheeks, the wisps of hair he can see peaking out from where she's wrapped in a baby blanket. It's then he sees she's not alone in the picture and there's a different version of you holding her.

The thing that stands out to him is how tired you look. He thinks this couldn't have been too long after you gave birth but still, he wondered if you'd gotten any rest those first few months. You still didn't like talking about your ex, or the circumstances that had led you to his apartment, but Sukuna knew that chances are you were taking care of Bug single handedly and that couldn't have been easy, cutest kid or not.

"She was beautiful, she still is." He reluctantly hands the phone back to you and you look at the picture again, tears building up in your eyes.

"She is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I-I wish that the circumstances were different in how I got her. Sometimes, I wonder how I'll explain everything to her when she's older. She just deserves so much better than him, you know?"

"You both do." Sukuna reaches over and brushes away one of the tears that had managed to fall down your cheek. He leaves his hand there a moment, holding your cheek in his palm, just appreciating the warmth.

"Do you want any?"

"What?" Sukuna isn't sure what you're talking about anymore. He can only see your lips right in front of him, the way that your eyelashes brush against your cheek as you blink faster and faster.

"Babies, do you want any?"

Something short circuits in Sukuna's brain and he wants to say, fuck yes.

He wants to tell you that he thinks about it every day. Every time you put Bug on your hip or send him youtube videos of hairstyles you want to try on her. Whenever it's late at night, and little feet pad out of your room and Bug asks him in the loudest whisper he's ever heard, if he can get her some water because she's so thirsty.

He thinks about it when the sun streams through the curtains of his apartment in the morning and it lights up your hair as you move throughout the kitchen, a force of nature, a creature from somewhere far too good to have ended up here with him.

He thinks about it when the three of you go out and people just assume you're a family, because of course you're a family. When you and Bug play some made up game, or Bug gets tired even though she denies it and he carries her sleeping form against his chest. When he holds her in his lap on the subway and you lean to rest your head on his shoulder and he feels like this, this is what he's always wanted.

He's not all pure and good though, because he thinks about it late at night in his bedroom too. After a day of your smiles, of seeing your thighs stretch out of those sleep shorts you started wearing when the weather warmed up, whenever he remembers the feel and smell of your panties when he's lucky enough to find a pair in the laundry basket, he thinks about how the two of you would make some really cute fucking babies.

He's imagined it a million ways. He's imagined you telling him you've gone off your birth control and you need him now after he takes you out on an anniversary dinner. Or him crowding you up against the kitchen counter and you begging him to put a baby in you.

His favorite fantasy is currently one where you get so carried away when you finally finally fuck that you don't ask him to wear a condom and he spends the whole night making sure you're nice and good and full of him and when you tell him a few weeks later you missed your period, he'll let you freak out. But then he'll tell you that he'll take good care of you, and Bug, and your soon to be little one and he'll finally have you, all of you and once you have your second, he'll knock you up again, as many times as he can because there could never be too many mini-you's running around.

At this point, Sukuna remembers he's talking to you, the real you and he swallows a few times before he speaks.

"I do," he says simply but something must show on his face because you're looking at him in a way you never have before. He hears your breath hitch and he leans in to kiss you, and you smell so good and his thoughts are consumed by the little family he just knows you're going to have when suddenly he's pelted by a variety of sharp, little objects.

Sukuna immediately holds up his arm to shield you from what he now sees is a barrage of wood chips which are being thrown at you by an army of toddlers, including your daughter.

You immediately get up and start talking to the kids about the danger of throwing what are basically large future splinters at people's faces and Sukuna is contemplating the murder of every child that isn't his own when you turn to look at him.

You're not just looking at him, you're seeing him and oh. Maybe he would be getting laid tonight, after all.

The slow burn is almost done folks.

thank you to the amazing reception to this series and the one-shot I posted(which there will be a prequel of soon!). it's literally so insane. Masterlist will be up tomorrow which I hope helps with accessibility!

edit: masterlist is up!

[obsessiveloveistheonlylove]

Yandere bruce wayne with neglected!daughter reader

Seen a bunch of neglected reader fics recently but I haven't seen one of a Reader who slowly starts to take advantage of the situation and uses batfam for their money and connections so here's this! This only focuses on Bruce for now but if anyone is interested I'd be willing to do some for the other batfam members + hcs for when/if they snap and kidnap the reader. 

Was suppoused to headcanons but ended up more as long rambles than anything lol mainly set up for later posts detailing the situation

Pt1 it got too long, word count ; 2461

Unedited

___

Bruce is absolutely the most susceptible to this behavior, he feels the most guilt about the situation (as he should for being a neglectful father) and he is not going to lie to himself to try and save face and make himself feel better and if he does it's only for a short while before reality slaps him in the face and he has to see the truth. The truth is that there is no one to blame but himself.

When he first noticed your disappearance it had happened slowly… entirely too slow when he really took the time to think about it. You had been gone for a full year and he hadn't even noticed? Were you even old enough to be on your own like that? Something he felt ashamed that he even had to ask. When Alfred informs him that you're nineteen just this month he's shocked not only that you're an adult and that he didn't even realize your birthday had passed but that he couldn't even remember your face. He searches his memories for your Visage but all that he can recall is murky; he can't even remember the correct shade of your eyes or your hair and it startles him how long has it been since he took the time to properly look at you? 

It takes some time but eventually he remembers your face with sudden clarity, he hadn't seen it in a while and the only image he could conjure up was when he first saw you, a small helpless looking child left on his doorstep by commissioner Gordon.  your eyes held the same dull glassy look that his did the night his parents died, you had lost your mom in a similar vein he felt he could relate to at the time. he remembered seeing you and feeling sad for you but not in the way a father does for his child the way he felt was the same way he felt as Batman seeing victims in Gotham streets you didn't deserve this life but you weren't anyone close to him. 

His chest aches and he remembers the way you'd clung to him your first week in the manor and then the way you wilted when he shut that down, it wasn't like he was trying to hurt you but he couldn't have you following him around everywhere especially not when gothams crime was getting out of hand even with the other members picking up his slack. So he reprimanded you, way too harshly now that he looks back on it he knows he only meant to keep you from discovering his secret but he could have worded it better instead he made it sound like you were a burden. Maybe you were to him at the time he thinks and is disgusted with himself for even letting the thought cross his head. 

He reads your diary page after page until he reads through the whole thing. The first few pages are hopeful but solemn detailing how much you missed your mother but you're glad that you have a whole new family and you hope that they will like you, it's heartbreaking to read that kind of childish hope turn into sadness and then hate. You detailed how no one would make time for you that you'd tried everything to get their attention but you'd get blown off by each one it turns into rants about you asking what was wrong with you and why no one ever spent any time with you the writing was scribbled on so he knows you did it in a hurry just to vent out your frustration. The part that hurt most were the pages about him, you had nothing good to say about him in fact in one of the pages you had written that you didn't have much to say about him at all that you hardly knew him and barely saw him once a month and couldn't even call him your father. 

Surely that couldn't be true right? He's not the best father figure by far but he always tried to make time for dick, Tim, Jason, Steph, Damian and Cass ... .surely he did for you. 

He tries to find memories of him being a good father or at least trying to be any kind of father figure to you at all but he can't he can only see the times he rejected your pleas to spend time with you for things he deemed more important than you he sees it clearly each time he rejected you how you got sadder and sadder how you seemed to wilt at each and every rejection until you stopped asking. 

he tries to tell himself that he did it for your protection that he just didn't want to get you involved in the crime fighting scene and since gothams streets were never without crime he spent an exorbitant amount of his time as Batman down in the batcave or out fighting crime with his other children and that's why he couldn't spend time with you. And that's why he seemingly had so many memories with them in the recent years; hell even in the recent weeks he has more memories with dick and the others than he ever had made with you. he tries to use it as an excuse to mask the truth; that you didn't matter in the grand scheme of his life, at least not then but he's going to do everything to make this right.

You'll be surprised to suddenly get a ton of texts from an unknown number even more so when you find out it's from bruce. Suddenly he's asking you how you've been, how was the move, are you in college right now, what major did you take? Obviously you're taken aback when the man who acted like you didn't exist suddenly wants to know everything about you. You would think he'd needed something but you know better than that what could he possibly need with you now? You don't have any money and he wouldn't need that anyways. Maybe he's dying and needs a kidney or something…whatever you don't care that man can rot. 

You leave his messages on read of course, because you don't owe him a response and well maybe to be a bit petty and give him a taste of his own medicine. You don't know how bitter the taste is in Bruce's mouth, he knows you've seen them so why won't you respond? Bruce usually isn't a multi texter but he'll send more and more trying to get any kind of response out of you, he's constantly checking his phone hoping to see three little dots appear and he's noticeably slightly more angsty when out patrolling with the others. 

The texts were annoying but you could mute his notifications and after the first few weeks you basically forgot about the texts going about your normal life until he started calling. It seemed like he was always calling Day in day out, you blocked his number because of how annoying it was but he always just gets a new one leaving the same text “ hey your name its dad” and then the calling would resume. 

One day you pick up and Bruce sounds so relieved when he says your name into the receiver you figure he might really need that kidney if he sounds this excited to see you.

When you answer back he knows you aren't excited in fact you sound completely disinterested in him which takes him by surprise, isn't this what you wanted? What you cried for in your diary begging God that your father would notice you. You're older now so maybe you just aren't looking for that kind of attention anymore, the thought haunts him the idea that he could never truly make it up to you still he pushes through his voice sounding nervous as he starts to tentatively ask about your day. You cut him off with a scoff after some terse conversation telling him to just get to the point already and stop wasting your time. 

The silence is deafening and you almost hang up before he croaks out a response “sorry name, I just wanted to know what you were up to I know we uh.. haven't talked in awhile I just wanted to hear from you and know that everything was alright”  could this really be your father? He sounds so pathetic to you at that very moment, nothing like the confident man you saw on television often nor the man you saw taking care of everyone but you. 

And no nothing was alright you were working a job you hated in some shitty little apartment in Gotham that you had to fear if it would get broken into or not because the damn landlord wouldn't change the faulty locks a rage takes you and you just let it all fall out cursing him for your shitty life and the shitty apartment and for being a shitty father letting all that rage out until you're left heaving.  its silent after your outburst you think he might have hung up but after a moment he offers to pay for a new place and offers to pay your current rent until you can break the lease and that he will take care of you and not to worry about anything financial telling you to quit your job and to send him your bank so he can get things sorted out.  

At first you wanted to vehemently deny this, wanting to prove to yourself that you didn't need him or his help but something In the back of your head tells you to accept it, that if he expects anything back for it then that's his fault for assuming. So you tell him and soon there's a large sum of money in your account more than you have ever had in there. For once you can actually afford to treat yourself instead of eating shitty microwaved ramen, and so you dine out in a nice reasonably expensive restaurant with your friends and you enjoy yourself. 

A week passes in silence and then he's sending you pictures of luxury apartments telling you to pick out any one you want and that he'll get everything settled and you almost can't believe this. Would he actually pay for something so outrageously expensive? You almost doubt it but once your lease is up Bruce is at your door helping you move out any furniture you wanted to keep which was almost nothing seeing as everything was already worn out anyways. 

You didn't say much to him and he seemed to realize you were in no talking mood so he allowed you to be quiet and told you about himself instead talking about the boys and what he'd been working on recently, it feels like what he should've been for you years ago an interaction you'd have killed for when you were fourteen and it just pisses you off so you turn on the radio instead to drown out his words. You don't care how he's doing, you don't want to hear about dick or damian, you're only accepting his help because you're tired of living in that shitty apartment. The ride is otherwise silent except for the annoyingly upbeat pop music which would probably make Damian or Jason have an aneurysm if they had to listen to it. 

The goodbye is  awkward. You can tell Bruce wants to come inside and talk more but you thank him for helping you move in the furniture and shut the door. 

He buys you new furniture without you asking and sends it in by the second week you're in the apartment. You don't realize that he stalks your posts and that he saw one of you complaining about the lack of good furniture.

Life has never been better for you, you live in luxury and can go on shopping sprees literally whenever you want and Bruce sends you a random stream of cash whenever you start to get low and you're definitely not going to look a gift horse in the mouth not when you enjoy every luxury you are afforded. 

Life is good until a certain black haired prick starts inserting himself into your life and this time it isn't bruce, nope it just had to be your annoyingly bubbly, touchy, and all too friendly ‘stepbrother’ dick grayson.

___

So yeah all in all Bruce has the capability to recognize your strained relationship is all his fault and that he never should have ignored you and how selfish he was to put his duties as Batman above his duties as a father to you. He realized he didn't even try to balance the two. 

And Despite himself he ended up hurting you and neglecting you so he feels he owes it to you to make things right even if 'making things right' entails him buying you a luxury apartment or purchasing the latest phone or new car. The best part is that Bruce will not demand time from you (yet) because of his guilt.  He simply suggests that maybe you should come out with him saying that he planned a whole day for the two of you but the ball is in your court since whether or not you ever accept his invites he will continue to be your cash cow to absolve himself of his guilt. 

It's fun because now you get to watch him wilt everytime you reject his attempts at reconnecting, you get to have your petty revenge watching as a part of him dies inside each and every time you ignore the conversations he tries to start when pulling money out of the bank,  you get to watch how he seems to lose all of his luster when you leave once the cash is in your hands without so much as a thanks. Bruce isn't stupid he knows this dynamic is unhealthy and recognizes it for what it is but this is the only way he can get you to talk to him or to even look in his direction. He has his limits though eventually you will talk to him whether you want to or not 

[katsu28]

slow down, be here

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: after a long, frustrating day of training, a night in with you is just what lando needs to leave it all in his rearview mirror (2.4k)

warnings: teensy but of swearing, reader is in university but major is unspecified, lando being a certified menace

a/n: i was gonna post this sometime next week but the lando girlies (aka me) need some comfort after today's shitshow. may or may not have been entirely inspired by that video of lando in the white singlet. that look (however fleeting) did things to me okay

You’re sitting at the kitchen counter when you hear Lando’s key in the door, one leg drawn up towards your chest, the other swinging aimlessly as you revise your notes last minute. 

Well, more specifically, when you hear him drop his keys on the floor in search of the correct one right before he inserts it into the lock. You’ve loved him and lived with him long enough to know it’s something he does everyday without fail. Whether it’s because he’s got clumsy hands or he’s Pavloved himself into dropping them at the same spot, you don’t think too much about it. The key drop signals that Lando is home. 

What also signals that he’s home is the way he lets out the strangest sound you’ve ever heard as he lets the door swing shut behind him after he’s let himself in—something between a sigh and a whine mixed with a guttural groan. 

“In here!” You call, taking the cap of your pen out from between your teeth. It only takes a few seconds until Lando emerges from the hallway, socked feet dragging himself towards where you’re sitting with a soft smile aimed at his rumpled state. “Hi, love.” 

He plops down on the stool next to you unceremoniously, hooking his foot under the bar of yours to tug you as close as possible to him on instinct. His chin finds the dip between your neck and shoulder to nestle into, and the deflating sigh he lets out once he’s situated himself to his liking sends a shiver through you. “Hi.” He mumbles, voice muffled. 

“Heard you’ve had quite a day.” You stroke a hand over his curls, smoothing them away from his forehead gently. Oscar had shot you a heads up text a little bit before Lando had arrived, saying that Lando might seem a bit put out when he got home. Something about a handful of tests not going the way they wanted, strategies not working out the way they planned. It sounds like enough to drive anyone crazy, but Lando is the type of person to take things especially hard. 

Lando lets out a vague sound of acknowledgement. You can tell he’s exhausted and frustrated, and you know exactly what he needs to wind down after days like these. “I’ll order takeaway for dinner. You go shower. It’ll probably be here by the time you finish up.” 

He gives a more content sigh this time, pressing a kiss to your pulse point. The tips of his hair tickle your cheek as he does so. “You’re a gem, darling.” 

“Tell me something I don’t know.” You tease, pushing him away playfully. He’s smiling big at you when you meet his gaze, something beyond fondness behind his eyes despite the tiredness as he does. “What?” 

“I love you.” 

“Love you too, stinky. Now go. Wash up before I make an executive decision and order sushi.” 

That gets your boyfriend scrambling to his feet fast, aiming a horrified look your way as he books it down the hallway. “You monster!” 

You chuckle quietly, busying yourself with finding Lando’s favorite Italian spot on your delivery app. Soon enough, the food is ordered and all you have to do now is wait.  

Lando reemerges from the bedroom just as you pull open the front door to grab the food from the delivery person. He figures you’ve got it handled by the way you’re chatting nicely with them, so he busies himself with drinks. 

There’s a bottle on top of the fridge that looks vaguely fancy, and though Lando doesn’t know much about wine, Charles had gifted him the bottle a while ago for his birthday. He trusts Charles’ taste. 

He does his best to sound out the French on the label and shrugs, snagging two wine glasses to go along with it. By the time he finishes pouring a generous amount in each glass, you’ve just closed the door, joining him in the kitchen with a massive bag of food. His brows fly into his hairline at the sight. 

You twist your lips to the side in thought, wrinkling your nose as you study the bulging paper bag. “I might’ve ordered too much.” 

“Good thing I always rise to the occasion.” 

You glance up at him, setting it down on the counter in favor of sidling over to where he is, not even fighting the smitten grin stretching your lips as you maneuver yourself between him and the marble. 

His curls are damp, messily towel ruffled and starting to frizz as they air dry. He already looks more at ease, comfier than ever in a pair of loose black sweatpants and a white singlet. You make a mental note to remind him to wear white more. It makes his tan skin glow, and it makes you not want to take your eyes off him. 

Your fingers skate along the exposed skin of his chest, stopping once to push into those dimples in his cheeks that you love so much before moving up to link around the back of his neck. His hands find their way to your waist at the same time, sliding coyly under the hem of your shirt to rest on your bare skin. 

In one fell swoop, you’re up on the counter, Lando nudging his way between your knees. He kisses you languidly, like he has all the time in the world to explore your mouth; long, slow kisses mixed in with brief pecks until you’re all but melting against him. He’s familiar and solid under your touch, all flexing muscle and warm skin as your hands run along his arms. 

After a while, Lando’s focus shifts to trailing open mouthed kisses down the side of your neck. On instinct, you tilt your head to give him more space to work and he takes it gladly, focusing on that one spot just below your ear that he knows for a fact works on you every time. 

You sigh appreciatively at the pressure of his lips against your skin, the way his teeth nip at that sweet spot but his tongue sneaks out to soothe the sting just as quick. 

Your fingers dig into his biceps as he continues his venture, but when he starts kissing along your shoulder, you squeeze a little harder. As much as you want to continue this, you remember you’ve got food waiting for both of you. He stops immediately, perfect lips pouted, eyes wide when he comes back up to gauge your reaction. 

“Eat first, kiss later.” You explain, peeling him off you (albeit a bit reluctantly) before hopping off the countertop. He whines something unintelligible as you unload the food, but as soon as you push a container of his favorite pasta towards him, he seems to forget his disappointment. 

The silence as you eat is comfortable, both of you seemingly more hungry than you thought you were as the food and wine begin to disappear. All the while, the space between the two of you grows smaller and smaller, until your elbows start to bump each other with each bite you take. 

You’ve mastered the art of enjoying each other’s company without having to say a word. 

“Were you revising earlier? When I came home?” He asks after a while, jabbing his fork in the direction of your notes. A few strands of pasta splatter onto the counter with the action and you tsk, nudging him with your foot. The last thing you want is sauce all over your papers. 

“Yeah, I was. Just some final practicing, see if anything needs tweaking before I have to present my thesis.” 

“I’m sure it’s perfect. You’ve been working on it for ages.” 

You spear a chunk of tomato with your fork, dragging it around in the sauce aimlessly. “I dunno. Everything is there, but it still feels like something’s missing.” 

“Present it to me.” 

“What?” 

“Pretend I’m the university board, or whatever, and present it to me. Maybe you’ll figure out what’s missing if you act like it’s the real thing.” 

“Really? You’d do that for me?” 

Lando scoffs, looking offended. “Baby, I’d do anything for you. Go on, do your little scholar thing for me. I’ll be the best fake board you’ve ever seen.” You gnaw on your lip, unsure. The idea seems silly, but it’ll probably work. “C’mon, bub. You’ve got a genius brain up there in that pretty head of yours, let me see it in action.” 

“Okay. Okay, fine, but you can’t be mean! You have to be nice, ‘cause I’m already freaking the fuck out about having to present next week and I don’t think I can deal with—” 

“First of all, I’m never mean to you. Second of all, get the fuck up there before I take my offer back.” 

You stick your tongue out at Lando whilst you grab your papers at the other end of the counter, feigning swatting him with them as he bounces his way over to the couch. He settles in right smack dab on the middle cushion, grabbing a pillow to hug while you do a quick once over of everything. Then you’re ready. 

You stumble through your introduction a little bit, but the words start flowing a few sentences into the body of your research—days, weeks, months of work having burned them straight into your brain. The longer you talk, the more comfortable you become, which gives you the confidence to set aside your notes for once. Part of you feels like you’re about to clam up and forget everything any second now, but you don’t. You forge on like you were born to. 

All that comes to a halt when you hasten a glance over at Lando, who’s staring at you without a thought behind those gorgeous eyes of his, smiling goofily at you. 

“Lando!” You whine, pouting. “Have you even heard a word I’ve said?” 

Lando blinks a few times like he’s coming back down to Earth, letting a sheepish grin creep its way across his face. “Not really.” 

“Seriously?” 

“I’m sorry! You just look really pretty when you talk about things you’re passionate about. It’s hard to focus on words when I look at you.” 

Well, you can’t exactly be mad at him when he’s sweet like that. Besides, you didn’t think he’d understand half of what you were saying anyways, and you’ve found the answer to your problems. Nothing was missing. Lando was right, you’re fully prepared for your thesis presentation. You just needed to get your nerves out of the way. 

“Worst fake board ever.” You huff. 

“But I just said you look pretty!” 

You prop a hand on your hip. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Norris.” 

“Oh yeah? Nowhere, really?” He rises from his seat, creeping towards you with that glint in his eyes you know far too well. You know what he’s about to do, and you’re about ready to make a run for it. 

He bridges the gap between the two of you faster than you think possible, catching you around the waist right before you can make your great escape down the hallway, hoisting you off your feet with ease despite your wriggling around like a fish out of water, and hauling you over to the couch. He tosses you over the back of it just as easily, following suit before you can scramble away. 

Realistically, you should've anticipated the whip fast reflexes of a professional racing driver. Having a faster reaction time than the average person is part of the job description. 

“Lando, no!!!” You squeal, already breaking into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. 

“Maybe flattery won’t get me anywhere, but I know what might!” He pins you down against the cushions with your knees clamped between his own as he digs his fingers into your sides viciously, ignoring your pleas in favor of grinning wickedly. 

“I give up! I give up, please—” You gasp, squirming under his relentless torture. One of his hands comes up to pin both your wrists down easily, probably so you don't punch him in the face trying to escape. (You’ve done it once before, purely by accident, but Lando’s never let you forget it.) 

“Say that you love me.” 

“You already know I do!” 

“Wanna hear you say it.” He insists, jabbing you in the side threateningly. 

You shake your head frantically. You’re near tears at this point, stomach hurting from laughing so much. There’s no point in dragging it out any longer, especially when sweet, sweet freedom is as easy as telling the love of your life that you love him. “I love you!” 

“What was that?” He tilts his head, brows raising expectantly. 

“I love you, Lando Norris.” You repeat, as steady as you can despite your breathlessness. That seems to satisfy him. 

He gives it up entirely, wedging himself between you and the back of the couch, making himself comfortable as you try to catch your breath. You roll over onto your side so you’re facing him, allowing him more space to nuzzle against you. “You’re a dickhead.” 

“I’m your dickhead, and you love me.” He replies smugly, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His arms worm their way underneath you and link up behind your back, legs tangling with yours. At this point, you’re not sure where you end and he begins, which is just the way Lando always likes it. 

“Against my better nature, I do.” You sigh, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. He hums sleepily, exhaling in deep comfort. “I’m sorry you had a rough go of it today.”

“S’fine. Nothing you’ve got to be sorry about. You’ve already made it better.” He mumbles. He already sounds like he's about to drift off.

“D’you want to talk about it?” 

Lando lifts his head to look up at you, blinking slowly. He offers you a small smile. “Not really. Just wanna lay here with you and forget about it all.” 

“Okay.” You say softly. 

You might not be able to help him with everything in life, but this, you can do. You thread one hand through his hair, smoothing through his curls in that one way you know he loves. Your other hand comes up around his back, fingers scratching a gentle path up and down his spine. 

If Lando was a cat, he’d be purring right now. 

Instead he opts for an appreciative groan, pushing his nose back into the warm nook he’d created. His lips press against your skin—once, twice, a third time for good measure. “Thank you.” 

Whether he’s thanking you for scratching his back or for just being here for him on the days he feels like he’s not at his best, you’re not sure, but either way you give him a tight squeeze and another kiss in lieu of a response. 

You’ll do anything if it means making sure he knows you’ve always got him. 

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[ellecdc]

About the onde bed trope… since there aren’t a lot of those, I was wondering if you could write one with reader and wolfstar? Maybe a smut or just something fluff

hi babes! so I got this request right after someone had asked for recommendations for one-bed tropes, which I had only ever read one and shared it. SO, I wanted to remind everyone of the cute wolfstar x reader one bed fic I read by @longlivedelusion, and know that while I'm happy to contribute to this super fun trope with our lovely wolfstar, that it was more than likely inspired by their awesome work linked above!

poly!wolfstar x Potter!reader who have to share a bed [2.8k words]

CW: mutual pining, feelings of 3rd wheeling, fluff, potter family

The hotel was bustling with what appeared to be just as many staff as there were patrons waiting in the lobby.

Bags were being whisked away, key cards were being handed to waiting hands, and nearly every second person was wearing a Manchester United jersey. 

James was positively giddy and practically vibrating with excitement, Lily and Regulus had their faces shoved into Lily’s phone as they (re)read the itinerary they had planned for James’ birthday trip, Remus arched his shoulders as he let his duffle fall to the ground and Sirius murmured promises of a back massage when they got to their room, and you people watched. 

Your parents had given James (and all of his friends) tickets to the Manchester home game and a few nights stay at a posh hotel close to the stadium.

Lily and Regulus, being James’ dutiful partners, planned other things for the lot of you to do while you were here, too.

Right now, however, you wanted nothing more than to get to your room, take a shower to wash the train off of your being, and go to sleep.

Mercifully the check in counter cleared and your group stepped up to the waiting concierge. 

“Hi there! We’re checking in for Potter; group of six.” Lily offered primly as she handed the man a copy of the booking number. 

“Right! Okay, so Potter, two rooms, each with a king, for three nights.” The man read from the screen, looking over in concern when six varied protests sounded from the group.

“No, I’m quite sure it’s meant to be three rooms.” Lily corrected quickly, offering you a worried glance before she nearly leaned over the welcome desk to peer at the computer monitor as if she was ready to take over for the concierge. 

The man hummed as he continued tapping keys and clicking his mouse and scrolling and please for the love of God don’t let there be a mix up.

It was going to be you that was the problem; not Lily and Regulus who were counting on a romantic trip to celebrate their boyfriend, and not Remus and Sirius with their long-established relationship and promises of Remus’ massage.

“The booking is only showing two rooms, uhm, let me just confirm with my manager that I’m not missing anything.” He bumbled awkwardly before standing and all but fleeing from the group of you. 

“It’s probably just a mistake.” James offered quickly as he jostled your shoulder. “With this many people here, the system is probably just lagging.”

But it wasn’t just a mistake and the system wasn’t just lagging and there was very much only two rooms booked under Potter.

“Is there any way we can book a third room? It can go on the same card.” You asked meekly, nervously glancing between the manager and the computer. 

“Unfortunately, the hotel is entirely booked.” She offered you with a pained smile, and just from your survey of the lobby while you’d been waiting in line, you knew that had to be true. 

“Do you have any cots we could have sent up to the rooms?” Lily asked hopefully, earning another grimace from the manager which was all the response you needed.

You could feel the group looking at you awkwardly and you immediately regretted even coming; you should have just left James to celebrate his birthday with his partners and best friends and stayed out of it, but instead, you were the troublesome younger sibling who your parents forced the group to bring along. Maybe you could catch a train back home? Maybe you could catch a train a town or two over and just have your own mini vacation and leave them to their celebrations.

“Don’t worry, bug!” James said as he rubbed your arm roughly before reaching over you to grab the keys to the two rooms from the concierge who was clearly now only waiting for the lot of you to bugger off so he could help the people behind you. “We’ll make this work.”

“You shouldn’t have to make it work, Jamie.” You moaned as your group moved to stand against a wall across the lobby as you all tried to problem solve this. 

“Both rooms have just one bed each, right? Do either of them have a sofa?” Regulus asked first.

“The pictures online didn’t look like it; the rooms had the bed, one grandfather chair, and a desk with a rolling desk chair.” Lily responded. 

“Okay, well, both rooms have king sized beds, we can share.” Sirius offered simply, causing you to nearly whimper.

“I’m not going to impose on anyone’s beds.” You murmured as you stared resolutely at your feet.

“You can share with me! It’ll be like the old days when we’d have a “sleepover” in the living room!” James offered excitedly, and you had to hand it to him for his sense of adventure and enthusiasm, but you couldn’t help but notice the quick glance Lily and Regulus shared.

“It’s your birthday weekend, Jamie, you should get to spend it with your partners.”

“Okayyyy, uhm, what about the girls room together and boys room together?” He offered instead, causing Lily to furrow her brows at him.

“But then two of us will be sharing while four of you will be sharing.” She countered, followed up quickly by Regulus who stated he would not, under any circumstances, be sharing a bed with his brother. 

“No, you’re right, erm, well… Me, Pads, and Moony could share-”

“James, I love you, but you’re terrible at this.” Sirius interrupted before turning his gaze to you. “You should just stay with me and Moons; leave these three to their…canoodling.” He said around a theatrical gag. 

“You guys were probably looking forward to a romantic stay too.” You muttered somewhat petulantly, and that was what nearly brought you to the brink of tears.

Not that you were the figurative sixth wheel, not that you were left without a room and imposing on two relationships, and not even that you felt particularly out of place.

No, the thing that nearly brought you to tears was the fact that you were acting so petulant on your brother's birthday which he had been so incredibly excited for.

You would not ruin this for him, for any of them. 

“No, you know what, sorry, you’re right, Sirius. I’ll pile the extra bedding they keep in the closets and make myself a little nest on the floor, it’ll be like camping!” You decided, pasting on the widest smile you could muster. 

You swore you saw Sirius’ face fall slightly but powered on when James was back to clapping his hands together excitedly. “Brilliant! This will be so fun, and so worth it, bug. Don’t you worry.”

And you were worried, but he didn’t need to know that. 

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“You’re not actually going to sleep on the floor, right doll?” Sirius asked after the hotel door shut with a click behind him as he glanced around the room. 

It was perhaps a bit tight, but if you set up your little nest underneath the window, neither boy should trip over you in the middle of the night should they need to use the loo.

“Oh it’ll be fine.” You offered in what you hoped was convincing nonchalance. 

“I really think the bed is big enough, dove. And Sirius usually latches onto me in the night so you shouldn’t even notice we’re there.” Remus offered gently, watching as you flung the closet doors open to procure the extra bedding. 

“S’not my fault, moons.” Sirius countered as he trailed right on your heels to where you were trying to make your ‘nest’. “You keep the thermostat so sodding low, I’d simply freeze to death if you didn’t share your body heat.”

He ignored your indignant “oi!” as he immediately plucked your pillows and blankets off the floor from where you’d placed them and moved them to the end of the bed. “And, I think you do that on purpose; you like cuddling.” He continued, gently swatting at your hands as you tried to reclaim your makeshift bed. 

“Oh, I love cuddling.” Remus agreed readily, clearly ignoring the fact that you and Sirius were currently in a petty squabble over linens. “What I don’t like is being jolted awake to your ice cold feet being shoved under my thighs at three o'clock in the morning- dove.” He gave you a pointed look with one arched eyebrow as you huffed petulantly and crossed your arms. 

“You are not sleeping on the floor, doll. Your parents paid for the sodding rooms.” Sirius claimed resolutely. 

“They were meant to pay for three rooms so that you two would have some privacy.” You argued.

“You’re really the only one upset about this, babes.” He stated, face softening when you nervously pulled your lip between your teeth. “If you’re worried about space, I’ll take the floor.”

“I don’t want you to take the floor.”

“Then I’ll take-” Remus started, but was interrupted when both you and Sirius spat “you’re not sleeping on the floor, Remus” and “like fuck you’re sleeping on the floor, don’t be ridiculous”, respectively. 

“So those are your choices, sweetheart; I take the floor or we share the bed.” 

After this many years of knowing each other, you knew when Sirius was bluffing, and you knew when it was better to fold; with the no nonsense look that currently adorned his face, you knew that those were, indeed, your only options.

You looked over at the bed wearily; it really was quite large…and you could use your own blanket so that you weren’t encroaching on their space or stealing their blankets. 

The problem was that the bed wasn’t the only problem. It also was very much the fact that you were pretty well completely gone for two of your brothers best friends.

Two of your brothers best friends who were very much dating each other. 

Two of your brothers best friends who were dating each other that you were completely gone for and now forced to share a bed with them. 

Awesome. 

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Sirius just about died when you stepped out of the bathroom with wet hair leaving damp patches on your sleep shirt and your legs on full display thanks to the matching shorts.

He just about died again when you caught him staring at you.

He nearly died a third time when Remus’ pointed clearing of his throat was what finally broke him from the trance you had on him; both he and Remus now red in the face while you looked to be fairing little better as you hid behind your wet hair and fussed with your toiletries instead of looking at either of them.

Sirius felt horribly pathetic - years of living with the Potter’s did absolutely nothing to dim the flame he held for you, nor did the physical space that living with Remus in their own flat for the past few years offered him.

The only thing that made his infatuation slightly less embarrassing was the fact that Remus held a similar flame for you, too. 

So while this was sort of everything he’d ever wanted - spending the night in a bed with two people he was absolutely crazy about - he was equally afraid of making you horribly uncomfortable. 

“Smooth.” Remus muttered as he came up behind Sirius only after you’d gone back into the bathroom to brush your teeth.

Sirius wanted to turn and sneer at his boyfriend. “I know I am” danced on the tip of his tongue; his usual suave blaseness in all its glory rearing its head at the insinuation that Sirius was anything but a certified charmer.

But all that managed to leave Sirius’ lips was a breathy “fuck” as he stared decisively at the space you’d been standing previously.

But before Sirius could spend any (more) time spiralling or Remus could offer words of encouragement (or commiseration), you were tentatively sliding into what the three of you had agreed would be your side.

Your side. 

The sentiment made Sirius stomach dip; after all these years he was finally getting a taste of what he’d always wanted.

Yet it wasn’t enough.

The lights were off and Sirius’ back was pressed into Remus’ chest as they both watched the steady rise and fall of your shoulders as you slept. They’d both felt so tired on the train ride here, yet neither of them could bring themselves to close their eyes when the alternative was getting to see you rest in their bed.

“Is this really happening?” Remus whispered quietly then, causing Sirius to snuggle impossibly further into him.

“Feels like a dream.” Sirius whispered back; his hand itching to reach out and twirl a lock of your drying hair around his finger, to encourage you to roll over so that they could see your pretty face, to pull you into him and hold you close. 

Remus tightened his hold around Sirius and pushed his nose into his shoulder. “We should tell her; need to tell her… this weekend.” 

Sirius shook his head, but it wasn’t in disagreement. Rather, it was in exasperation.

“I can’t believe she can’t tell how crazy we are about her.” 

And Sirius nearly died a fourth time in one night when you seemingly shot up out of a dead sleep and spun to face them. 

“You’re what?” You asked; no hints of sleep in your tone (nor your wild eyes) as you stared at them incredulously. 

“Fuck.” Sirius repeated eloquently as he and Remus both sat up, the latter leaning over to turn on a lamp causing both you and Sirius to wince as your eyes adjusted.

“I thought you were asleep?” Sirius accused then, but you didn’t take the bait. 

“You’re…what about me?” You whispered carefully.

“Crazy.” Remus responded quickly; whether he was braver than Sirius or opting to rip the bandaid off, Sirius didn’t know. “We’re crazy about you.”

You made a breathy sound, almost as if you were going to ask “what” or “why” or “when” before the question died on your lips. 

Sirius stared at you in wait; he didn’t know whether you were about to cry, whether you were going to demand they let you build a ‘nest’ on the floor so you could escape them, or whether you were going to call your folks and ask them to pick you up.

So when your face broke out into a slow, still disbelieving but equally relieved grin, well…he’d be damned. 

“Yeah?” You asked hopefully, eyes swimming with unshed tears as you nervously looked between the two of them. 

“Yeah…” Sirius let out with a breath, daring to reach across the expanse of the bed that the three of you had clearly decided would be a no-man zone and delighting when you eagerly accepted his hand in yours.

“We thought you were asleep, dove.” Remus offered gently, and a shy smile crept across your face as you shook your head, a lone tear trailing down your cheek that your free hand was quick to wipe away.

“Couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Sirius cooed pathetically, rubbing along your knuckles with his thumb as he took your inability to sleep to be a personal offence. 

“Was too busy thinking about how crazy I am about the two of you, too.” You admitted in a whisper, and Sirius wondered if he had even frozen long enough to share more than a 0.35 second glance with Remus before he bodily launched himself and tackled you to the bed before peppering your face with kisses as you squealed.

“You mean-” kisses “to tell me-” more kisses as you giggled “that we could have been doing this” you squealed as he nipped at your collar bone “this whole sodding time!?” 

“Oi!” Remus chided teasingly. “Don’t maul her!” Though his statement was severely undermined when he all but pulled you into his lap to press his own rough kiss to the side of your face. 

“Oh, I’m just getting started.” Sirius threatened with a beaming smile as you looked at him breathlessly; eyes bright, smile wide, and heart full. “We have lost time to make up for.” 

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Enough was enough, quite frankly. The tiptoeing, the dancing, the shy glances, the longing looks - it was all too much.

Something simply needed to be done.

Was it temerarious? Perhaps. Was it conniving? More than slightly. But was it also necessary? Most definitely.

She only hoped that she hadn’t gone too far, is all.

But any worries that Euphemia Potter may have had vanished entirely the second that her phone buzzed with a text from James the next morning that simply read: it worked.