#but you look into their eyes and all you see is that younger you staring back at you!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

satanghulu · 3 days ago

Text

take what’s yours

✦ PAIRING: solomon/mammon ✦ SUMMARY: The four times Mammon “rejects” a gift and the one time he accepts them. or alternatively: Mammon is a loser and in denial about his feelings. ✦ WARNING: fluff, huge denial on mammon’s part (I mean come on, what did you expect?), solomon is a HUGE tease freak, explicit language ✦ WC: 4.3K

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WATCH: traitor - Olivia Rodrigo

He stares at the outstretched hand, blinking in loud confusion.

“What’s this?” The suspicion in Mammon’s voice was enough to render one speechless but Solomon was nothing if not special.

“This is for you.” He says, taking delight in the way the white-haired demon’s eyebrows shoot up into the depth of his hair. It was a charming sight, and Solomon will keep it in the depths of his head.

For the first time in Mammon’s life, he’s been rendered speechless.

It’s more like his brain had shut down at the sight of the watch he so badly wanted. The shine, the craftsmanship, the way it glittered in the lights. He wouldn’t admit it but he was freaking out.

“W-wha-” He managed to sputter out, not knowing if he should take a step forward to take a closer look at the watch or take a step back because Solomon is a freak. Like, who the hell would get a luxury watch for someone they weren’t close with?

“You posted it on Devilgram a week back,” Solomon says nonchalantly as if it was the normal thing in the world.

The demon nodded, carried away by the luster of his voice. Suddenly smacked by the reality of the situation, Mammon shook his head profusely to the point where his sunglasses almost flew off.

The radiance of the watch was calling to him but there is no way he is going to accept a gift from this shady ass sorcerer. For all he knew, he could have planted a curse on the watch – maybe he was secretly waiting for Mammon to touch the watch which would transform him into a beetle and then he would trap him in an airtight bottle and then—

Yeah, no way he was accepting it.

Though, he did dream about the watch the night before. No matter how he tried to turn his head away, his feet were rooted to the ground and the cloud of Greed seemed to be calling, no, clamouring for him to take what was his.

Brring!

A sharp ringtone cut through the stifling air. The gaze that Solomon was pinning him down with, felt hot as if it was burning lasers onto his skin. Though, Mammon knew it wasn’t tangible and impossible to do so.

He picks up the phone instead.

“Where are you?” It was his younger brother on the line, voice prickly and irritable as usual.

“RAD.” He replied, still squinting at the outstretched hand holding the next potential love of his life. (Goldie would still be first but this would be a tough fight for the crown.)

“Get your ass back, we’re on cooking duty today.” With a hiss, the call ends abruptly.

Mammon frowns, staring at the lock screen which coincidentally was a product picture of the watch. His younger brother should really treat him with more respect – he was the second oldest after all.

“Ah, you have to get back home.” With a flourish, the sorcerer pockets the watch and gestured for him to go on ahead.

As always, his mouth moved faster than his brain.

“I’ll get ya’ back.” He said, totally not shouting with his clenched fist pointing at Solomon. From today onwards, the sorcerer had become his nemesis. So what if Solomon had won the auction and gotten the watch? He didn’t have to flaunt it in front of him, did he?

No, he wasn’t jealous. He definitely wasn’t bemoaning the fact that the antique watch he had been eyeing had been bought by the sham of a sorcerer in front of him. He did see the listing being taken down a couple of days ago but he thought it was just a website error.

The white-haired sorcerer just lets out a chuckle.

“Sure, looking forward to it.”

Mammon totally didn’t feel his traitor of a heart skip a beat at the sound of it. It was just a moment of weakness, he told himself.

BAND: time of our lives - DAY6

Solomon cornered him a whole week after the initial interaction, looking intimidatingly handsome. (Mammon was not keeping count of the days, nor was he looking out at every corner he rounded. He just didn’t want to see that stupid sorcerer.)

“Hello.” The man says, looking infuriatingly put-together whereas Mammon felt like his heart was going to jump out of his chest. “I’m glad to have finally caught you today.”

“Y-ya’ what?” His voice came choked out, as he half-yells at his face. Solomon was nice enough not to mention the sprinkle of saliva as he courteously wiped at his face, all while keeping eye contact with him.

Solomon stares at him. “Yeah, it seemed like you were avoiding me this week.”

“Eek!” Mammon says before immediately choking on his own spit. The sorcerer just waits for him to catch his breath, a mirthful look on his face.

“I wasn’t.” He replied through gritted teeth, decidedly avoiding eye contact with the exchange student in front of him. “I wasn’t.” He affirmed once again, the urge to turn tail and run growing stronger.

“You weren’t?” Solomon takes a step closer, the clack of his dress shoes sounding unimaginably loud. “Strange. I swore I called out your name yesterday but you pushed Satan ahead and ran away.”

Mammon yelps again.

“Anyways, we can put that behind us.” Interestingly, the sorcerer whipped out two pieces of paper from the depths of his pocket. Mammon wonders if his pockets are enchanted because it seems that he never ran out of things to pull out.

“Tada.” Upon closer look, it looked like tickets to a concert though the fine print was a tad too small for him to read. And it also appeared that Solomon had been waiting for a reaction from him.

“Uh…” He pushes the tickets into Mammon’s hands, giving him a smile that makes his eyes crinkle up. All Mammon could do was stare at him with his mouth agape as the sorcerer lifted up a hand to pat him on the head.

“I’m leaving now. Have fun.” That was all he said before he left, the click-clack of his shoes getting on his nerves. Embarrassingly, his knees went weak and he slid to the floor despite his attempt to stand straight.

What the fuck?

His sunglasses slid off the apex of his nose bridge. He looked down at the tickets, now crushed in his clenched fists. They were tickets to a band that was playing this weekend. Mammon had been a long-time fan of them, even having a couple of merchandise plastered in his room.

He had tried ticketing for the concert when they released the tickets but had eventually failed. (His credit card had failed on the checkout page, the balance being a dollar short. By the time he had Lucifer’s card in hand, it was sold out.)

Though, how did Solomon know that he was a fan of them?

AMUSEMENT PARK: despair - leo.

Mammon couldn’t fathom how he got into this situation.

The stupid-looking lizard on Solomon’s head was pissing him off even more. He felt like reaching up and pulling that idiotic tongue hanging out from the lizard’s mouth.

“Should we take a photo together?” The man behind his current complication asked.

Before he could even utter a word, Solomon had already stopped a passerby to get them to take a photo for them. Mammon could only silently grate his teeth and plastered on a smile that probably seemed closer to a grimace.

“Aw, both of you are so cute.” The passerby commented, handing back the D.D.D to the sorcerer. “Is that the zombie iguana matching headbands?”

“Yes, it is.” Solomon quickly replies, grabbing onto Mammon’s arm which was starting to flail about in protest. Mammon shoots the sorcerer the dirtiest stink eye he could muster but keeps his mouth shut. “Thank you and I hope you have a great time too.”

An elbow to Mammon’s side and a whispered smile! made him turn to the stranger with a forced grin and pleasantries. He honestly couldn’t be bothered to even talk to them but the counterfeit of a sorcerer was forcing him to.

If memory serves him right, hadn’t Solomon once used his magic to make his D.D.D. float and take a picture?

Well, it wasn’t like Mammon had any right to complain right now. Before he could continue arguing with himself in his head, Solomon tapped him on the shoulder.

“Should we try that one out?”

Following Solomon’s finger, his eyes landed on the inordinately typical claw machine. It was blasting some typical pop music that he hears every day from Asmo’s room during his morning routine.

“...Fine.”

As much as he wanted to say no, the sorcerer’s gaze was becoming too burdensome to look at. The brown hues in his eyes seemed to stand out under the horrendous lighting of the carnival. Mammon couldn’t believe it. How could one still look so handsome against this shitty background with dreadful lights?

Subconsciously, he furrows his eyebrows. He doesn’t think that even he would look good in this set-up. And he was a model, on the front page of Devil’s Style too!

“I got it.”

“Huh?” He hadn’t even noticed that he was looking at Solomon’s hands which were wrapped around the knob of the claw machine. Dazed, Mammon shook his head trying to clear his thoughts.

“For you.”

Solomon pushes the grey blob that vaguely resembles a ball into his arms. Curious, he lifted it up against the lights and squinted closely at it.

“It reminded me of you.”

???

It seemed to be an animal from the human world. The stocky animal with a black mask was getting on his nerves with its mischievous expression. For some odd reason, he felt like he was being taunted.

“HUH, whadda did ya’ mean-” He snapped, eyes flying up to meet the dumb grin on his face.

“It’s cute like you.”

He felt his jaw unhinged from where it was supposed to be. His arms had a mind of their own and he almost flung the stuffed toy across the area. His face felt hot and now, he was absolutely sure the awful sorcerer was doing it to get under his skin.

“You little-”

“Thank you for making time today. This was sufficient repayment for bringing someone else to the concert.” Solomon says, cutting him again.

Mammon opens his mouth to complain but decides against it. Even he knew he was wrong in bringing Asmo to the concert but how would he have known that the two tickets were supposedly meant for Solomon as well?!

“Well, do me a favour and let me know why did we have to come to this place?”

Still, he couldn’t stop himself from asking the burning question that had been plaguing him ever since the white-haired human had told him to meet at the entrance of HOL.

“Asmo told me it’s a great spot for a date.”

This time, Mammon just stared straight at him, mouth parted again. Can living for too long mess with one’s mind?

He and his brothers are fine, but maybe a human might be affected differently. Though, it did look more likely that the sorcerer just had a screw loose in his head.

“We’re on a date?”

“We’re not?”

Mammon emphatically does not answer back, inhaling a soft intake of breath.

Yeah, humans are just weird like that. He chanted to himself, trying hard to disregard the fact that he was still tightly clutching onto the gifted plushie.

MATCHING KEYCHAINS: so american - Olivia Rodrigo

He was starting to get concerned at how often he had been running into Solomon these days.

“Uh… what are you doing here?”

Mammon peers at the white-haired sorcerer who is waiting patiently on the doorstep of HOL. The sorcerer rummages through his pocket before bringing out a single stalk of flower — a bright garish yellow that honestly kind of hurt his eyes.

“For you.”

He nonchalantly hands the stalk of flower over, taking advantage of Mammon’s confusion to make his way into the house.

Oh hell, Lucifer is going to have a fit. Mammon faintly thinks, fingers clenched tightly over the stalk. Now that he had a closer look, it seemed like the petals were faintly sparkling with gold iridescent glitters.

“I tried my hands at growing flowers for a spell,” Solomon said casually, shrugging off his overcoat. He watches as the sorcerer folds it neatly to hang it over his arm before turning to face him.

“Lucifer has been asking me to head up into the human world to collect something.” Mammon tries hard not to stare at the way his shoulders roll in the tight-fitting shirt. “I was hoping you would be free to accompany me?”

His mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton.

“Yes?” He finally says, still managing to embarrass himself. Mammon wishes he could come up with something cooler to say. The white-haired sorcerer flashes him a smile before taking a couple of steps to grab his arm.

“I am the magician Solomon... Heed my words!” As Solomon finishes his incarnation, his vision begins to spin. Suddenly aware, Mammon grips onto the sorcerer’s arm tightly, squeezing his eyes shut. His mouth opens and before he could let out a shout–

In that split second, he was already out in a grimy alleyway, the flickering lights casting shadows on the ground. He waits for his heart to slow down, looking at the puddle of water on the ground. He was never going to try teleportation again. It felt like he had been punched in the guts.

“Ah, it looked like it rained,” Solomon says, chin lifted high up to look at the dull sky. Mammon quickly lets go of the sorcerer’s arm, patting down his jacket which had become wrinkled during the short journey.

“What do you need to do?” He asked, rolling his tongue over his teeth. The air tastes crisp, with a tart tinge to it.

“Found it.” Solomon spotted something in the corner of his vision and walked over to pick it up. “Wanna walk around for a bit?”

The sorcerer muttered a spell under his breath and the once-huge box had shrunken down into a miniature square that could fit in the middle of his palm. It was done in such a flashy way that even Mammon couldn’t muster up any words (at how cool it was).

“Ya know my time costs money, right?” Mammon shrugs, evidently trying not to think of the implication behind it. The crushed flower stalk was still in his hands and he quickly shoved it into the depths of his pockets. “Count your lucky stars. For today, I will make it free.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be able to afford it.”

He ignores the words, walking out of the alleyway into a bustling street. The sorcerer falls into step beside him, a quiet silence taking over.

“Should we go here?”

Mammon shoots a sidelong look at him before turning to take in the eerie signboard that was hanging on by a thread. “Here?”

“Yeah, doesn’t it look fun?” The sorcerer’s eyes were bright and twinkling with a sort of madness. The demon turns to stare at the dreary storefront that sends a chill down his bones. Even a demon knew better than to mess with a store like this but alas, Solomon the Wise Sorcerer, had already made his way into the shop.

“Are you gonna get something here?” Mammon half-whispers at the sorcerer, who is humming a delightful tune that he recognises as the soundtrack from the third installment of TSL.

The demon sticks close to the sorcerer, looking around cautiously. When the sorcerer stops in his tracks, Mammon almost runs into him. He stuck his hands out just in time, trying hard not to lock eyes with the shopkeeper’s cat.

“Isn’t this cute?”

Mammon barely notices the keyring on Solomon’s fingers before giving an affirmative hum. He was far too focused on keeping tabs on the tiny black cat which had been baring its teeth. The cat had been staring at him ever since he walked into the shop and it was giving him the creeps.

“Are you having a staring contest with the cat?”

An amused voice broke his concentration, leading him to frantically shake his head. From his peripheral, the cat stretches and yawns before slinking away. Somehow, it felt like Mammon had lost the fight.

Solomon gestured for him to sit on the bench located at the side of the store. Curiously, Mammon followed in his footsteps noting that the sorcerer kept his hands in his pocket the entire way.

Once settled, he tilts his head at the demon as if he were a cat, ready to pounce at his prey. The flash of the keychain glittered under the dim lights.

“I got this for you.”

It was a tiny metallic crow keychain. “Not taking it? That’s unlike you, Avatar of Greed.” Solomon cocks an eyebrow at him, playfully swinging the keychain back and forth.

He snatches the item from him, dimly noting that it looked similar to his own familiars — the three-legged crows are a rare commodity in the human world, yet there was one right in front of him. Even he was starting to get suspicious of how much information the human knew about him.

“I have the same one too.”

He was sure a strangled noise came out of his throat when he realised that the matching keychain was attached to the edge of the D.D.D. that Solomon was holding up.

“What are you doing?” He chose to ignore the burning sensation that flared across his entire face as his fingers flexed around the keychain. It was a small thing, the way he noticed Solomon’s quirk on his lips or the way he thought Solomon looked good in the low light.

“What do you mean?” The irritating fraud of a human asked back, the curve of his lips stretching impossibly wide.

He didn’t know if he wanted to smack it off or kiss it off his face.

“What is all of this supposed to mean?” His voice was starting to border on a shout, and he couldn’t help but notice that they were having this conversation in a dingy store.

This was not where he wanted to have this conversation, he thinks while furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’ve thought that I’ve made it clear?” This time, Solomon crosses his arms as he purses his lips. “I’m trying to court you. Isn’t this what demons do?”

His stomach goes sour at the statement. Everything suddenly starts to burn — his face to the bottom of his toes, as he tries to swallow his saliva.

“W-we do this?” The words start tumbling out without his approval, snowballing into a bigger problem. Mammon always had difficulty stopping his words once they started. “You like me?”

There, he said it.

The human paused and looked at him with such a soft look that he felt his insides twist.

“Yes.” He laughs, light and airy. “Mammon, I’ve been trying all this while.” He whispers, and Mammon is suddenly painfully aware of his growing heartbeat, getting faster by the second.

NECKLACE: i wanna be your boyfriend - hot freaks

“Should we head out?”

Solomon rises to his feet, sticking out a hand for Mammon to grab. He gives him a smile, murky in the emotion it was supposed to convey. Confronted with all the facts on the table, the demon doesn’t know how to respond.

The sorcerer’s shoulder rises and falls.

Before he could drop his hand, Mammon reaches out to snatch it. He propels all the way to the door, the cheery ringing of the doorbell sending them on their merry way. Solomon throws out a goodbye! to the shopkeeper (or the cat, he doesn’t know) as he stumbles along.

The white-haired demon continues to walk ahead, dragging Solomon slowly by the arm.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

He doesn’t. But Mammon would rather let the Devildom freeze over before he would open his mouth and tell him that.

“Head to the right, there should be a park there.” Pointedly, he steers the direction to the left. Behind him, the sorcerer lets out a fond exasperated laugh. “Oh you’re right, I think it was to the left.”

The park soon came into view. Relieved, he tried to loosen his grip on the sorcerer’s arm but the accompanying squeeze stopped him. He chanced a glance back and Solomon shook his head. Mammon could feel a hot flush on his face.

“Let’s stop here,” Solomon calls out gently, coming to a stop.

Mammon pauses in his tracks.

“Are ya’ for real?” He starts, narrowing his eyes at the other party like he couldn’t believe he was actually here, in the flesh. “Like you ain’t jokin’ or something?”

“I thought I had already made myself clear enough.” Was the only response that the white-haired human deigned to bestow upon him. He stands there with a pleased smile like a cat that got the cream.

Maybe he was really being genuine in his affection.

“If I find out you’re jokin’ or something–”

“I assure you, I am definitely not.” Solomon stops and stares at him, eyes wider than usual. More predatory than usual. It made Mammon uneasy. “Look, I thought demon culture was all about making the initiative to gift something first.”

“What?” Mammon cranes his neck further, whipping to fix him with an unimpressed look. He had heard about this in passing. “Isn’t that only for royalty or something?”

“Asmo said you would like it.” The sorcerer remarked, timbre distinct in a way that scratches Mammon’s brain just right. “You don’t like the presents?”

“No!” Mammon gnaws on his lips as he stops himself mid-sentence. He seemed to come to a terrible realisation by himself, scratching at his head.

“I like it.” He replied with a horrified expression, face twisted into an expression of disgust. “What in the actual hell?”

The sorcerer nods at him encouragingly like he is playing along with a toddler. “Uh-huh, continue.”

“What the fuck? Does this mean I like you?” The demon’s face was still pinched but he seemed less startled now. The sorcerer slaps his hand onto Mammon’s right thigh and peers at him, giving him that weird toothy grin that makes his heart race.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

Mammon felt cold and nauseous all at once. There was a moment of silence as the sorcerer leaned back to wait. Surprisingly, Mammon doesn’t feel too opposed to the idea of being courted by him.

Huh.

He thinks for a second, lost in his thoughts. He turns the proposal once more over in his head and realises he really won’t mind. And that does something funny to his stomach.

“I have something for you.”

Lost in his thoughts, he barely notices when the sorcerer’s fingers trace their way up to find his to lace them together. He rummages through his pocket to pull out the box that Mammon recognises as the delivery he was supposed to hand off to the firstborn.

“I pulled some strings with Lucifer’s connections to get this.” He brings out a tinier square box, before shoving the original item back into his pocket. He pushes Mammon’s palm open, placing the square box into his palm.

“What’s this?” The demon just raises his hand, lifting it up to eye level to examine it closer. It was miniature, shaking in the light wind breeze.

“By the will of the sorcerer Solomon, let this box return to how it was before." The low whisper made Mammon shiver. He watches in amazement as the box shakes before restoring to its original size.

The box opens with a flourish, the gleam of the gold-plated chain catching in the sunlight. It was heavy and the authentication card for the necklace stared back at him. The shadow of Greed looms over him and he takes in a shaky inhale, leg tapping on the ground rapidly.

“Ta-da!” The sorcerer says with a cheer.

He swallows, the space in the back of his throat dry. He holds onto the box, letting the emotion settle into his heart like honey. He fights it down.

“For me?” He croaks, voice stuck like gum that had dried up in the sun. Solomon nods, bringing the necklace out of the box.

It was a dainty thing. Diamond-shaped and gold, just the way he liked it.

“Wear it for me?”

Mammon nods, turning around to let him clasp it. He stares at the yellow ducklings in the far distance, trying not to think too much about the way his skin tingles whenever Solomon touches him.

“Pretty.”

“W-what?” Mammon is baffled at his silver tongue, face red all over again. There was a snort coming from the sorcerer. “Ya’ can’t just say that! You have to take responsibility!”

“I am trying to.” Solomon lets out a laugh, leaning into his space. Mammon wonders how long it would take to get used to him. It was irritating that he was still so flustered. “Are you free tomorrow so that I can finally take you out on a proper date?”

“Ya’ gotta know the Great Mammon is very busy!” He starts, mentally checking his schedule for the next day. “But you’ll be glad to know that he has time to spare after RAD–”

“What? Don’t laugh at me!” He growls at the sorcerer, who is now uncontainably laughing while clutching his stomach.

“N-no, you’re just so cute.” He finally barks out, wiping away a tear. He straightens up, shoulders hunched as he breathes out a sigh of relief. “And I’m just so happy you said yes.”

Mammon’s heart skips another beat.

Oh. He’s in for a ride, he thinks faintly.

Somehow, he liked the sound of it.

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a/n ▸HAPPY LUPE DAY!!! (@lonely-north-star we love you). this is brought to you by @sheepthatgobaa & i <3 her fanart can be found HERE (pretty please, take a look thank you) also, songs were chosen by kelo & i <3 not beta-read because I forgot timezones existed and I procrastinated....

#say happy lupe day and pass it ON!#obey me #solomon x mammon #obey me solomon x obey me mammon #obey me solomon #obey me mammon #satangwrites #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #shall we date om #obey me fandom #obey me fanfic #bitch idk what else to tag #yaoi #happy yaoi #?????? okay thats all #satang can do it!

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xetlynn · 6 hours ago

Note

Would you mind doing alternate universe claggor x a fem!reader who's a cat-person like lest?

Here you gooo!!!

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

Say It First

summary: [name] and claggor like one another but neither will make it official.

[arcane] [main page]

“[Name]!? [Name]! Dude your shift is about to start!” A slightly muffled voice shouts, startling me awake from the rough sleep I had last night. I shoot up from my couch, my ears ringing due to the sudden movement I made. I look around trying to remember where I even was.

I glance down to my couch, trying to pinpoint why I was sleeping in my living room and not my bedroom. I get jolted out of my thoughts when the front door is slamming open. My eyes widened, stepping back to see Mylo who just kicked my door open. “Hey, my door!” I scrunch my face, putting my arms up. “You’re fixing that.” I angrily told him.

“You should be thanking me, actually.” He rebuttals, showing me his watch. The time was 5 minutes before my shift at The Last Drop started. My heart sank. “I forgot to set my alarm.” I solemnly admit, rushing to my bedroom. “I didn’t know you were awake. I wouldn't have had Mylo do that! I thought he was going to pick the lock, not break it.” Powder says, following behind me.

“It’s okay, he’s fixing it whether he wants to or not.” I spit out, throwing my clothes off, not caring that my friend was right there. She covered her eyes immediately. “Vander is going to be pissed!” I cry out, throwing my work clothes on, grooming out my tail along with my hair. “I was up way too late last night.” I mutter, spraying a bunch of perfume on.

“Let’s go.” I grab my best friend’s wrist, dragging her out of my room. Mylo stood there, hands behind his back. “C’mon, I don’t want you in my house.” I point to him, taking his arm in my other hand. Hurriedly leaving my place, shutting the door behind me even though it really didn’t matter since my lock and door knob was busted.

“Why were you so tired, hm?” Mylo takes his arm back as we all rush to the bar. “I was out with a friend.” I rolled my eyes, sprinting ahead of them so I didn’t have to hear their teasing.

“She was so with Claggor.” He whispers over to Powder who just snickers. “Totally.” She adds.

“Guys, please whispering is not the best thing to do around me.” I point to my fluffed up ears. “We meant for you to hear.” The blue haired girl smirks. I groan. “Whatever.” The Last Drop comes into view and I start running to the building. I made it in just a minute. All eyes on me when I burst inside. I bite my lip, holding onto my tail nervously as I walk to Vander. “I made it on time.” I give him a small salute.

“You look like you just woke up.” He ruffles my hair, my ears go down, upset with him messing up my hair. “That’s because she did.” Mylo sits on a stool, Powder joining. “Only reason she’s here is because we broke into her house.” She says in a joking manner even though that is quite literally what they did.

“Yeah, Mylo. I’m not joking when I say you’re fixing that!” I fumed, heading behind the bar to tie my waist apron. “Yeah, yeah.” He sighs in annoyance. “He broke your lock?” A voice adds into the conversation, I perk up looking to see Claggor who’s holding a box of random things. “Yeah, can you believe that?” I smile, leaning over the counter.

Vander scoffs, walking away knowing I’m about to be really distracted now. “Actually, I can.” He grumbles glaring over at his brother. “He learned it from Vi when we were younger.” Claggor thinks back to the pink haired girl who was basically his sister. I take his hand knowing sometimes it’s a little hard to mention her. “Yeah well he’s going to fix said door.” I squeeze his hand before letting it go to pinch Mylo on the arm. “Better get to it so I have a safe home to go to bed tonight.” I stare him down and when he attempts to argue I just make a zip it motion.

“Going now…” He groans, storming out of the building. Powder joins Claggor and I, laughing at her pouting brother who just left. “I warned him about having to fix it.” She shrugs her shoulders. “He doesn’t think about consequences much.” I remind her. “Never has.” Claggor chimes in, giving me a small wink. My face flushes and I turn to Powder who was already smirking at me.

“So, what were you two doing up so late last night?” She abruptly questions us, making both Claggor and I tense up. “Well, um, this was part of the reason.” He lifts up the box he came in here with. “A box of… junk?” Powder tilts her head with a slight expression of disgust.

“Yes, I’m reusing it. To turn it into jewelry. Claggor and I were collecting them yesterday and he said he’d clean them and bring them back to me. Hence why he brought it here.” I explain, taking the box, hiding it underneath the counter. “Thank you by the way.” I grin, he nods his head. “Jewelry?”

“Yeah, Vander said I could sell some here if they were good enough.” I pointed over to their dad who was talking to a customer. “I forgot you were super into making jewelry.” Powder purses out her lips. “Speaking of jewelry! Ekko and I are going on a date to that art festival tonight. We wanted to invite you two.” She proposes to us and I furrow my eyebrows as Claggor has a slight blush on his cheeks. “You want us to join your date?” I repeated back to her.

“It’s a date for us, it can be whatever… your hangouts are called.” She avoids eye contact with me. I know what she’s doing.

Claggor and I like each other. It’s extremely evident and we both know how annoying it comes off. For some reason we don’t talk about it nor do we hint at it or anything. No kissing, no hugging, no intimacy at all! I got a fist bump last night and I dreamt about it, that’s how pathetic this whole ordeal is.

“You don’t have to answer now but I need one before 4.” She smacks her hand down on the counter before walking away just as her boyfriend, Ekko comes into view. I turned to Claggor who was staring down at his hands. “Do you want to go?” I ask him, I feel my tail flicker to the side and I grab it. Not wanting it to give away my interest. “Do you?”

I smack his arm because of his answer. He does this often. Not giving me an answer on what he wants and deflecting it for me to answer first. “I do, actually. Now, what do you want to do?”

He smiles up at me. “That’s exactly what I was going to say.” He says. I roll my eyes. “Sure it was.”

•••

Powder gets dressed over at my house. She’s wearing a white shirt that has pink flowers all over it with a long black skirt as I put on a dark blue shirt and jean shorts. My shorts used to be Powders but I absentmindedly cut a hole in them for my tail after I borrowed them.

“Are you two going to make it official soon?” Powder asks as she finishes her eyeliner. “Again with this?” I whine, aggressively putting my shoes on. “[Name] it is exhausting to watch! Just say something. I’m sure he wants the same thing!” She practically begs and I sit on the edge of my bed, letting out a huff of air. “I know he does but I want him to make the first move. He never says what he wants first.” I throw myself back on my bed dramatically.

“He’s most likely just nervous, he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing.” Powder comes and sits beside me. Her face was hovering over mine. “I understand though.” She rubs my arm. “Funny, Ekko was pretty straight forward last I checked.” I poke her nose, her cheeks turn pink in response. “Okay I don’t fully get it but I do understand if I put myself in your shoes.” She shoves my arm, standing back up.

•••

We meet up with the guys at the bridge where they’re throwing the festival. Powder jumps over to her boyfriend, linking their arms. Claggor and I awkwardly stand beside one another, following behind the couple into the festival.

I mainly just looked around for new jewelry inspos to make out of the recycled junk that I have. Telling Claggor to take a mental image just in case I forgot. Powder and I fangirling over certain paintings and little gadgets all around.

“[Name], look at that table.” Powder points over to another jewelry table but the jewelry wasn’t made of metal or plastic but instead plants. My jaw slacks, grabbing onto Claggor excitedly bringing him over to the table with me. Not realizing that Ekko and Powder took that as a chance to split up from us. I pick up a blue flower crown, examining it. “I could so create something like this!” I squeal, placing it on my head. “Powder they have pink-” I held it in my hands, turning to show her but she was already gone. I press my lips together and frown.

“Wow.” I scoffed out a laugh. “Hey, since you picked that up you actually have to buy both of them.” The creator comes up behind me, I look at her with a sad look. I didn’t bring any money. Before I can say that though Claggor was already giving him a few coins. “Thank you.” She nods her head, stuffing the coins in her pocket.

“Sorry, I’ll pay you back.” I hold the flower crown in front of me. Not knowing what to do with it now. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” He waves me off. I look between him and the crown, a smirk creeping up on my lips.

“Put this on.” I give it to him, he raises a brow. “Okay.” He puts it on without a fight and I giggle, giving him a hug. “We match!” I feel my tail flick back and forth and I immediately let him go before he can embrace me back.

I clear my throat. “Let’s go check out the glass area. That seemed cool.” I avert my gaze from him, walking ahead now. “You okay?” He asks. “Of course.” I curtly answered.

I want to be able to hug him without worrying about doing too much. Or showing him I’m too happy because what if that looks weird. My ears and tail give me away too quickly though. I’ve never been able to lie about my emotions. Ever. If I’m upset my ears flatten. If I’m happy, excited or nervous my tail will show it with how it moves. It’s sort of annoying.

“I know something’s bothering you, [Name].” He places a hand on my shoulder. See!

“Nothing’s bothering me.” I lie, forcing a smile. “Let’s go see that glass.” I pump my fists in the air. He doesn’t move though when I begin to walk. “C’mon.” I try to grab his hand but he pulls away to cross his arms. “Not until you tell me.”

I glanced around us and everyone was just walking around, not paying attention to what we were doing at all. “I guess we can stay in the jewelry section.” I attempt to make a joke but it doesn’t land with my very small audience.

Once his silence began to bother me I swallowed down my pride. Thinking back to what Powder said. How it might just be hard for him to explain how feels about things.

“I want to be something.” I deflect eye contact with him, trying to focus on literally anything else at this moment. “What do you want to be?” He stammers.

“A couple like Ekko and Powder. I want to kiss, hold hands, tell everyone that you’re mine.” I exclaim, at the ending of my sentence I glance up at him. His hands drop to his sides. “I can’t tell if that’s what you want either because you never tell me how you feel unless I say what I feel and then you just agree with me and it makes me feel like you’re lying almost.” I blurt out word after word, not being able to stop the vomit that is this sentence.

“I just want to know how Claggor feels, not [Name].” I tell him truthfully, my head going down sadly. My ears falling with it. I hold onto my tail to mess with something.

“I… in all honesty [Name] I feel the same way as you most of the time. Like this for example, I want the same thing. I want to call you mine and scream it out to everyone. I just get scared that I’m going to mess up.” He grabbed my hands, my tail dropping back down. “What would you mess up?” I look up at him through my eyelashes. “Everything.” He chuckles dryly.

“Mm, I don’t think you ever could.” I pull him closer to me, wrapping his arms around me. “I want you to be mine and I want you to tell me everything you feel.” I tell him, my arms going around his neck. “I want to kiss you.” He says, momentarily letting me go so we can get out of people's way a little better. We weren’t exactly stopping anyone from walking but so we could have our moment a little better. He brought me to the wall of the bridge.

“You want to kiss me?” I giggle, my hand traveling to his face. “Mhm.” He nods his head. I see the redness in his ears from how hard he’s blushing. “Then do it.” I whisper.

He smiles, both of us inching closer and closer before he closes the gap between us. Our lips locking together and then moving as if we’ve done this before.

Once we realize we were still in public though we back away with dumb, goofy smiles on our faces. “We need to do that more often.” I blurted out, causing him to laugh. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“FINALLY!!!” Two arms wrap around us, pulling us together with Powder who was excitedly jumping up and down. “What’d I tell you, Ekko. My plan worked.” She throws her head back to look at her boyfriend who shook his head.

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hearted-anon · 1 day ago

Text

Sick days

Words: 1,037

Note: them

Requested by: @itzsana-kiddingmenow

T/w: none

Taglist: @reginald-stay09 @itzsana-kiddingmenow @hetashi-takashimaya @soap143 @jungwon-is-the-one @minnielvrr @skzdiary

Lee: Minho

Ler: Jisung

"I'm not hungry." Were the only three words needed to set alarm bells echoing in Jisung's head, fingers curling around the doorframe tighter as he looked at the elder in nothing short of concern. Mere moments ago, he had been raving about a new Japanese food store that sold pudding, practically bouncing off the walls in an attempt to get Jisung to hurry up and finish his work so they could both try it together. However, the moment he had hurriedly rushed to put on random clothes that made him look like a fashion designer's model, hat practically tipping over and covering his eyes, Minho had abruptly changed his mind, not even sparing him a glance.

"Are you sure? I might just go by myself and eat some good pudding~" Han coaxes, even wiggling his eyebrows, shuffling his arms side to side with a small smile. Despite all of it, Lee Know remained radio silent, pursing his lips into a thin line with the younger's silly actions. Noticing that his usual go-to cheer me up wasn’t working at all, he climbs onto the soft bed, hearing it creak and the sheets dip beneath him earning a wince from the quokka. He moves his face in an attempt to see eye to eye with the older, but each time he gets even into his peripheral view, Lee Know instantly turns his head to the other side, as if trying to hide something.

"C'mon, what's got you so down? Did I do something wrong?" Jisung bites his lip anxiously, his upbeat attitude beginning to fade down with the somber atmosphere, deflating like a balloon that just got popped. Finally locking eyes with the ace, Minho brings him into a tight hug, but the unrelenting silence bothers the quokka, nonetheless. It wasn't till he felt fingers gripping the back of his shirt tighter and tighter did he realise that there was indeed something wrong, just that the elder wasn't exactly ready to spill the beans yet. The least Jisung could do was provide some kind of support, tugging him closer, rubbing his back in small circles, whispering reassurances into his ear, he tried and did everything.

"I don't know, I just... don't feel good," Minho starts off with a shaky breath, pouting slightly when he's pulled out of the younger's shoulder, feeling a palm press to his forehead. Jisung winces at the sudden heat it produces, it was no wonder why Minho felt suspiciously hot when they were hugging. Bringing a thermometer over from the nightstand, it was then proven true that the older had come down with a fever, staring at the sign of 40 degrees Celsius with an almost disappointed gaze. Being pushed back onto the bed tenderly, Han practically teleports around the house, speeding around with medicine and water in hand that nearly split all over the floor from how fast he was running.

"You and I both know you're sick, so please take this," Jisung chided, holding a spoonful of fever meds right to the elder's lips, who stubbornly refused, pushing away his wrist like a petulant child. Softening his gaze, he decided to try another tactic, fingers skittering up Minho's side while the other still held the spoon. Knowing the dancer, his lips immediately parted in a fit of breathless giggles, shaking his head as he stamped his feet on the bed. Seizing the opportunity, he smoothly slid the syrup between his lips, smiling tenderly when the elder's face scrunched from the bitter taste.

"Alright, have some water," Handing him a small glass of water, that Lee Know gladly chugged down in a matter of seconds, he whined and shoved at the younger's hands when he held a fever patch over his forehead, clearly wanting to deny any sort of babying treatment he was getting.

"Jisuhuhung! Nohoho!" Minho got out through strained giggles when nails scraped over his stomach, melodic laughter ringing throughout the room while Han struggled a ton trying to paste the patch onto the dancer's forehead, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding when he heard a tiny wince emit from below him feeling the sudden cold against his body.

"You just love being so stubborn, don't you?" Jisung tuts in faux disappointment, scribbling both his hands over Lee Know's stomach now that they were free, watching in endearment when the elder weakly paws at his hands in an attempt to rid the tingles on his body, which obviously didn't work in his sick state.

"Ehehe! Quhuhuit it!" Minho barks, but it holds now bite as he falls back against the bed, kicking his feet like a child, it was the only thing he could do given his situation. Cooing in adoration, Han can't resist the temptation to pinch one of his cheeks, watching how the skin turned a bright red. Not from pain, but from how flustered the elder was at being treated as such.

"Nohoho more! Tohoho much!" Jisung lets up immediately hearing his tiny cry, not without one last scratch over his side, watching as he jerked away from the hand. He watches the older slowly melt back into the bed, quietly catching his breath. He almost jumps off the bed when he feels a hand on his back but comes to lean into it like a needy cat when it rubs his spine in soothing, tight circles. Placing a chaste kiss on his forehead, Han continues the comforting ministrations, humming a tune under his breath and noticing how fast Minho seemed to knock himself out to the singing and massage.

Pulling a blanket over the elder, he takes just a sneaky photo, sending it over to the members who gave all their best wishes to the snoring bunny, especially a concerned maknae who spammed the chat with crying emojis upon reading the message.

When Lee Know awoke later in the day, he was surprised to find his nightstand adorned with a pack of pudding, along with a bright pink sticky note that read, "Get better soon: from Jisung and Jeongin". It definitely made him feel lots better, no longer feeling hot from the lingering fever, but from the fuzzy feelings that wrapped around his heart.

#..?#skz tickle #stray kids tickle #kpop tickle #lee!know #lee!minho #them #minsung #ler Jisung #Ler Han #Ler Han jisung

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wedreamedlove · 2 days ago

Text

[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.

#light and night #光与夜之恋 #ln osborn #ln xiao yi

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everysongineverykey · 2 years ago

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and for my next trick i present... my Grand Tv People Freakout Extravaganza!!! *falls to the floor weeping violently*

#the owl house #toh raeda #raine whispers #eda clawthorne #i swear to god they're going to kill me. they're going to kill me. falls onfloor #you do everything you can to keep your beloved from finding out your secret thinking they will surely hate you but they end up leaving you #for doing just that #and then thirty years later they lie to you about being brainwashed and pretend not to recognize you #to keep you safe so they say #but you look into their eyes and all you see is that younger you staring back at you!!!#the one who loved them so much she forced the feathers and claws back down into her skin to keep them with her and didn't even succeed!#and you think: i thought we were past this. i thought you said i should have known better.#but when it comes down to it you both just want to keep the other safe more than anything. because maybe you still love each other #underneath the years of loneliness and bitterness. and maybe the thought of looking them in the eyes #and just saying 'i'm sorry. i was wrong. i miss you. i love you. can we try again?'#is too frightening for that prideful earnest loving yet cowardly and broken girl inside you.#and the thought of admitting you have made them change their mind is too painful for your beloved #who has resigned themself to always standing there and watching as you go and destroy yourself while cracking a joke.#anyway. heehoo funny owl show

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dutybcrne · 2 months ago

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Love the idea of Kaeya having a kid that looks damn near entirely like his partner save maybe their eyes

#☆ ┆ ( .ooc. );#//Bro just staring at his kid with narrowed eyes like ‘I birthed you you lil shit; how could you betray me this way-‘#//Nah; he’d actually be thrilled #//Would be so happy he’s got a lil miniature running amok jdhdb. Would think it’s absolutely Adorable #//Wouldnt have minded if then Alberich genes woulda shined through a bit more; but he’s cool with it #//At least no one can contest their parentage (tho he might be worried abt this if he’s NOT actually in current relationship w the other)#//(bc the last thing he wants is to make them feel obligated to stick around)#//The kid looking less like him has an added bonus of not making him have a Crisis over seeing his ‘younger self’ essentially #//Thats the biggest reason; he’d prolly cry if the kid resembled him too much; thinking he jinxed them #//Anywho; silly things now. he doesn’t rlly mind what sort of personality his kiddo might have; he’ll love them greatly #//Except if the kiddo turns out to inherit his recklessness; then he’s STRESSING #//Itd be so funny if his kid were the rowdy type; he’d be apologizing to Addie for all the trouble he and Luc gave her hdhdb #hc; kaeya #//Eh; for certain things ere jdbdb

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kbwrites · 3 months ago

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Heated Waters

synopsis: being married is hard, being married without seeing each other is even harder.

⚝ content: Hiromi Higuruma x F! Reader, nsfw, bathtub sex, fingering, Hiromi neglects his wife, but boy does he make up for it

⚝ wc: 1.9k

“Yeah we do it pretty much every day.”

Satoru said, taking a leisurely sip of his water. His pale face alight with mischief, a shit-eating grin across his lips. His three coworkers stared at him in (jealousy) disbelief.

Suguru was the first to break the silence, wanting to save face “Everyday is a bit much, isn’t it, Satoru?”

Satoru chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he watched his friend squirm. "What about you guys? How often do our married friends get it in?" His gaze flickered to Nanami, who cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from his coffee cup.

“Twice a week, I suppose…”

Satoru's smile widened, clearly entertained by the responses he was drawing out. He then turned his attention to the oldest among them, Hiromi Higuruma, who was carefully straightening his tie, a subtle attempt to avoid eye contact.

“What about you, Higuruma?”

“Your wife, (Y/N) is a little younger than you, right? C’mon Higuruma-San…She a total freak?” Satoru teased.

Hiromi's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as his grip on his coffee cup tightened. He took a slow, measured breath, his voice strained but controlled when he finally spoke.

“Please don’t talk about my wife like that.”

But Satoru, ever the instigator, didn’t back down. “It’s just us guys riiggght? And I can’t lie Higuruma, you’re one lucky guy. (Y/N) is a catch.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, as did Suguru, though both seemed to sense the discomfort growing in Hiromi. The older man could only sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation.

It was true—you were everything he could have ever wanted in a partner. Beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted—his perfect match. If heaven existed, Hiromi was certain you’d be the only one worthy of it.

But long nights in the office, and early mornings preparing for court would take a toll on any relationship. The truth was… Hiromi hadn’t touched you in over a month. By the time he came home—you were fast asleep, and weekends were spent running the mountain of errands you couldn’t get to during the week. You loved each other of course, but it was hard. A month without feeling the warmth of your husband's hands all over your skin was starting to weigh heavily on both of you.

“You don’t have to answer Higuruma-san..” Nanami chimed in, sensing his elder colleague’s discomfort.

“Over a month.” Hiromi exhaled, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“WHAT?” Gojo audibly gasps. “Your wife looks like THAT and you haven’t f—”

Suguru swiftly cut him off with a well-placed elbow to the chest. “Satoru… leave Higuruma alone.” The long-haired male warns. “Still, that is surprising.”

“I know I know..” Higuruma pinches his bridge. He wanted nothing more than to have his wife under him… on top of him. But the endless stream of work kept him trapped in a cycle of exhaustion. “I’ve been so busy I can’t even remember the last time I actually spoke to her properly.”

Suguru offered an apologetic smile. “Sounds like you need a break.”

“Sounds like you need some puss—” Nanami quickly elbowed Satoru in the chest before he could finish his sentence.

Hiromi shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle as he ran a hand through his dark locks, clearly frustrated with himself. “I appreciate your concern, guys, but I don’t see how I can take a break right now. I have so much work to do, and I’m the only one who knows how to handle all of it.”

“Higuruma-San. Satoru will take care of the paperwork for you.” Nanami suggested with a deadpan expression.

“HUH?” Satoru blurted out, clearly caught off guard by the sudden assignment.

“Yeah,” Nanami continued, ignoring Satoru’s protest. “It’s not like he actually does any work around here anyway.”

Suguru smirked, nodding in agreement. “That’s true. You might as well make yourself useful, Satoru.”

Before Hiromi could protest, the trio moved in unison—Suguru grabbing Hiromi’s briefcase, Nanami steering him toward the door, and Satoru sighing dramatically as he resigned himself to the task.

“Are… are you boys sure about this? I don’t want to burden you–”

“Nonsense! Go home and take care of your wife!”

Hiromi placed his briefcase by the door, his tie feeling suddenly too tight around his neck. He loosened it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around. The familiar scent of home greeted him. It was comforting yet bittersweet, a reminder of all the moments he had missed. The living room was tidy, the soft hum of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. You had clearly been busy, taking care of the house as you always did, even when he wasn’t around.

“Honey?” Hiromi calls out to you, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.

Frowning, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before making his way down the hall. As he approached the bathroom, he noticed a faint light seeping out from under the door, accompanied by the sound of water gently lapping against the tub.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. There you were, reclining in the bathtub, your eyes closed, head resting on the edge as steam rose around you. The soft glow of candles illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over your features.

You looked so peaceful, so beautiful—that it almost hurt to look at you. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he took in the sight, but the guilt and longing only deepened. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to appreciate you like this? Since he’d been able to just… be with you?

You opened your eyes, gaze meeting your husband as he leaned against the door frame.

“Hiromi?” you murmured, your voice soft, almost questioning, as if unsure whether he was really there or just a figment of your imagination.

“Hey Honey…” his voice equally soft, as he took a tentative step closer. The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around him, melting away some of the day’s stress.

“You’re home early.” You muse, looking at him as you rested your arms on the tub. He doesn’t respond, just walks towards you with purposeful steps.

Hiromi stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.“The guys decided I need a break.” He paused, his breath hitching slightly as he continued, “Can I join you?” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Only if you take off your clothes this time.”

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he unbuttons his dress shirt, letting each article of clothing fall to the tile floor. As he finally sheds his boxers before settling behind you. You exhaled softly, the tension you’d been holding onto for weeks dissipating as you sank into your husband’s embrace.

Hiromi didn’t waste a moment, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses along the curve where your shoulder met your throat. His breath was warm against your skin, his kisses slow and unhurried, as if savoring every second, every inch of you.

His hands weren’t idle either, tracing gentle patterns along your stomach, moving upwards to cup your breasts with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He nipped lightly at your earlobe, his voice a husky murmur, “I’ve missed you… more than you know.”

“Missed you too ‘Romi..” Your voice trembling as the almost foreign heat began to pool in your core.

Deft fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching—eliciting a soft moan from your lips as your body arched into his touch. Your hand reached back, tangling in his dark locks, pulling him closer as his lips traveled down to your shoulder, his other hand snaking under the water to your aching cunt.

“ahhhh… s-shitt..” You cry out as Hiromi’s fingers slowly circle your swollen bud. His touch light, teasing.

“Thirty-two days… I’m so sorry m’love.” He mumbles into your shoulder as he slips a slender digit into your entrance. Your walls flutter immediately around the intrusion, as he gently pumped into you.

He adds another finger, curling up to the spot he had neglected all those weeks. He extended his thumb to rub your clit. You arch your back against him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass.

“Hiro…” you moan, reaching behind for him, but he bites down lightly on your shoulder.

“Not yet, pretty girl, want you t’cum first okay?”

He whispers as he feels your gummy walls clench around him.

He speeds up his ministrations, digits stuffing your cunt as your pussy throbs and squelches. Your whimpers echo around the tiled walls, water lapping around your bodies.

You feel the pressure building as each thrust of his long fingers brush against your g-spot.

“g-gonna cum!”

“Cum f’me sweetheart please—god… need it so bad.” Hiromi mumbles as he pumps even faster.

“a-ahh!” you cry as you reach your high, walls clenching as you cum on your husband’s hand. He removes his fingers from you, moving to gently circle your clit as you come down from your orgasm.

You both stay there for a moment, your heavy breathing the only sound occupying the space, mingling with the gentle slosh of water against the porcelain tub. Hiromi’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

Slowly, he lifted you, the warm water swirling around you both as he maneuvered you to face him, settling you on his lap. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your knees pressing against the cool sides of the tub.

You straddled Hiromi, your bodies now fully aligned, chest to chest. Your husband's dark, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of raw need and unspoken tenderness. He let his hands rest on your waist for a moment, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your damp skin as he took in the sight of you.

“I don’t know how I’ve stayed away from you for so long…” his voice breaking slightly as if the admission pained him.

Your breath hitched as you shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the tension between you intensify. Hiromi’s hands slid up your sides, his touch deliberate and slow, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his lips finally found yours. The kiss was deep, full of hunger that had been simmering between you both for far too long.

His grip on your waist tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that left you dizzy with need.

Breaking the kiss, Hiromi leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

Without a word, he rose from the tub, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. Water cascaded down your bodies, pooling at your feet as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck.

He laid you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the soft silken sheets, but Hiromi didn’t waste any time. His gaze darkening as he climbed over you, his body hovering just above yours, his eyes drinking you in like a man starved.

“I’m going to make up for every second I’ve missed.”

#kbwrites #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #higuruma hiromi #higuruma x reader #higuruma smut #jjk smut #jjk higuruma #hiromi x reader #hiromi x y/n

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coweye · 4 months ago

Text

The Worst Logan

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 5.8k words

Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. 😤

This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! 🤠💕

Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+

The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. It’s in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.

You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice.

You’ve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.

When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.

Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was.

His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot.

Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.

Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.

This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired.

This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face.

“Logan, that's them. It’s X-23 and Y/N, the one’s I told you about.” You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her.

“Her name is Laura.” It’s a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasn’t the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised.

The Wolverine’s gaze darts between the two of you, it’d be comical if you didn’t feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if he’s trying to find you in her features.

You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.

“There was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying … and I never even got the chance to fight for it.” Blade explains remorsefully.

“They sent us here because they knew we’d put up a fight.” You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle he’s currently white knuckling.

“People like us don’t go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.” Elektra attests.

“The answer is yes, I’m in.” Wade declares.

“In what?” Blade questions bemused by the man in red.

“A team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outta’ here.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar!” Logan growls, furious at the other man.

“It was an educated wish!”

“HA!” The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry.

The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage.

When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.

It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charles’ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charles’ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits.

Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.

You realise you’ve entirely tuned out Wade’s rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your love’s face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie.

“Laura, Y/N? What’s it gonna’ be girlies?”

“Lets fucking go.” Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed.

“YES! LET’S FUCKING GO!” Wade shouts back fist pumping.

“You’re all fucking dead.”

Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline.

They both needed this and it wasn’t something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers.

So it shouldn’t surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.

“You gonna’ stand there all night, Bub?” The man sounds utterly exhausted.

You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Laura’s seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet.

“You hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.” You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists.

“I didn’t hear a thing, Logan.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you haven’t had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but it’s like riding a bike. “I wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.”

“What do you fuckin’ know.” He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. “You can skip the speech and go back up, I’m not looking for company.”

“I’m not here to tell you what to do, Logan.” Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. “I just wanted to see you.”

“See me?” He questions incredulously. “Well, keep the change, bub. Good night.”

Despite your smile at his words, you can’t help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isn’t.

“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp.

Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. “You her Mother?”

“Yes and no.” His stare doesn’t leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “Her biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After … you … after everything that happened in North Dakota…” You trail off.

Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form.

A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.

You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue.

“She was all I had - if not for her, I-.” You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now. “I just couldn’t see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-”

You don’t know it, but you’re preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldn’t help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily.

“-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.” You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. “So no, to answer your question. I’m not her biological mother, but she’s my daughter in every way that counts.”

Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other.

“You loved him?” Logan’s voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. They’re filled with something you can’t quite name.

“I did.”

Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion. “You should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.”

“Can I stay here … with you for tonight?” The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?

Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. “I’m not him, Darlin’.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.” You sigh, “but could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?”

A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesn’t do that.

Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. He’s a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets he’s laid out on the ground.

“Fuck it.” He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. You’ve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you can’t help but hurry before he changes his mind.

Before you know it you’re tucked into Logan’s side. His gloved hand doesn’t quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him.

Logan’s breath is uneven, though he’s doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy.

You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he can’t name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesn’t move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you.

It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead.

This Wolverine’s arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, it’s so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do.

And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.

It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. You’re not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep you’ve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip.

Everything is still hazy; you’re floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura.

You’re back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.

There's no my logan, new logan, old logan.

He’s just Logan.

You bury yourself deeper in his neck.

It’s only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut.

Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs.

“...Y/N?” Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesn’t release his hold on you. “What’s wrong darlin’?”

That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you.

All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isn’t the right word but it’s your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before he’s pulling away and holding you back.

“Y/n… Darlin’ you don’t want this… I’m not-”

“But you are Logan. You’re him just as much as he’s you.” Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. “You’re Logan.”

“Y/N… I’d be taking advantage…” His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy he’s constantly telling everyone he’s not.

“I am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.” This time when you capture his lips, he doesn’t rear back. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.

Logan’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. You’re breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue.

Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. He’s lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesn’t lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you can’t help a bubble of nervous laughter. He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips.

Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.

Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, he’s back on you, only it's your bare neck he’s lashing with affection now.

Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. He’s nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his.

“Logan…” You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre.

Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, you’re fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist.

Dog tags; his old dog tags.

‘LOGAN’ is etched into the aged metal and they’re warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart.

The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you.

He’s not sure why it didn’t occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close.

For the other dead Logan, the hero he’s heard so goddamn much about, he decides he’ll give you the treatment you deserve.

As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldn’t give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him.

Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; you’re like a gift all wrapped up for him.

His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.

“Logan, please…” you whisper desperately as your hands find his ‘tufts’ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional.

He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, they’re quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and he’s right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he.

Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.

Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth.

You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you.

“Fuck, Lo, I’m gonna-”

“Come, baby... I got’ya.” He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like you’ve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesn’t allow you any reprieve before he’s back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.

“One more.” He’s negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side with affection against your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you.

It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch.

Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.

It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth.

Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast.

“Lo… fuck… yes… right… right fucking there.” You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole.

He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin.

Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it.

He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and you’ve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Logan’s chest is fucking… transcendant to behold, it's like he’s been sculpted by god herself, the light isn’t the best out of here, but you hope to god you don’t die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach.

Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin.

Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard.

If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy.

Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.

“Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. “No sweetheart, I want your pussy.” You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you.

You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees he’s deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.

Finally, he’s in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers.

So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go.

You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.

He has prepared you well, you’re so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit you’re clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck.

The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.

Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.

Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesn’t take long for the sensation to hit him.

“Fuck, where do you want it?” He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

You know he’s teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does.

“Inside - come inside me, baby.” You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, it’s unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldn’t have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing.

Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably.

Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.

You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, he’s supporting his own weight, thank god, you don’t think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. He’s still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.

The silence stretches on for an amount of time you can’t quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down.

Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh.

Logan’s eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection.

“I-” Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.

“It’s okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. I’m okay with it.” You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but you’ve got your Wolverine warming you up. “I just wanted one night to be about something other than death.”

He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again.

Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.

When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind.

Just when you’re just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than he’s ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence.

After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.

It’s later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.

There’s a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you can’t shake the sensation of being watched.

Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.

“Mornin’ sleepy head, have a good night?” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“AGH!” Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Logan’s chest. He startles awake, with the telltale ‘snikt’ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you.

After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesn’t do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend.

“Get the fuck outta’ here, Wade.” Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.

“Hmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and I’m worried that-”

“WADE.” This time Logan’s voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isn’t doing anything particularly outrageous. Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands.

“Thanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.” You’re disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you. Honestly, you’re still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you don’t have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesn’t seem to mind as he continues. “That mean lil’ lady is asking for ya’. Thought I’d come and check you and big yellow weren’t still bumpin’ uglies. Didn’t want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.”

“Uh - Thanks… Wade?”

“That’s me.” He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. “Oh, and we’re done.”

Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wade’s ‘awh’ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously.

After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. “See ya’ around, bub.”

“Where’s my smooch, Logie-bear?”

“Go fuck yourself, Wade.” He calls as he walks around, Logan doesn’t look back as he heads off into the forest.

You still had faith he’d turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different.

“Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.” Wade sighs linking his arm with yours.

“Mmh, You can say that again.” You agree with the clown watching Logan’s ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesn’t turn back.

The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandra’s lair when Wade finally asks the question you know he’s been dying to ask since meeting you “So, Y/N just between us girls… how big is it?”

LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.

Thanks for reading xxx

Graphics by my pal - @saradika-graphics 💕

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #worst logan #worst logan x reader #worst logan x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine you x #wolverine deadpool #wolverine smut #wolverine x you #wolverine #james howlett x reader #james howlett #james howlett x you #wolverine deadpool fanfiction #wolverine fanfiction

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nezuscribe · 8 days ago

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you’re glad to have a friend like arranged!gojo, it feels good to have somebody to talk to and listen to. you feel nice being able to laugh with somebody and not apologize for the awful jokes or strange things you say. but sometimes you have to stop yourself from getting attached, reminding yourself that he won’t care for you like that.

and though that’s the farthest from the truth, it’s what you’ve convinced yourself. so when your birthday comes around, you decide to celebrate the way you always have, alone.

he’s your friend, not a husband, so you don’t see any need in dragging him into this ordeal.

you bake a little cake for yourself a couple day in advance, just like you used to at your old home. you stash it away for when night rolls around and it’s just yourself, you can enjoy it the way you have for years.

when you were little you would gawk and stare at the lavish parties your father and his wife threw for your sisters, the balls and the presents growing bigger and bigger the more they grew up. you’d mimic their behaviors on your own, dressing up in the best dress you had (a hand me downs from your older sister that never fit quite right) and pretended you too were surrounded by a room of people as they watched you eat cake.

and sure, when you were younger you’d feel embarrassed eating by yourself surrounded by drawings of people you’d prop up on chairs, but it’s become tradition now (not the drawings, you realize now how depressing that must’ve looked).

so the night of your birthday you take the cake you had hidden in the back of the ice den out, bringing it to the corner of the kitchens where the cooks kept the little table for themselves and began cutting into it, cursing yourself for freezing it too long.

you serve yourself a piece, hunching over your plate as you dug in with your fork, eating in silence.

you write a little note for the cooks to enjoy the rest of it as you place it back in the den once you were done, going back to your room for the night.

the following day when you were walking around the library looking for something new you spot gojo talking to one of his advisors, his eyes focused and his tilted slightly as he gave him all of his attention.

you pause, holding back until you were sure they were done with their conversation to reveal yourself from behind one of the looming bookshelves, watching as the advisor bowed his head to you before he left.

the crease between his eyebrows relaxes, his eyes softening when you waved at him, your smile gleaming.

“i didn’t see you for breakfast,” he tells you as he walks over to where you were standing, pushing some of his hair back as you grin apologetically.

“i slept in,” you admit sheepishly, tired from last night as you play with your fingers, “i also might’ve been a little snippy with alina when she tried to wake me up.”

gojo snorts, absentmindedly pulling some books out and putting them back in as he rests his side on the wall of binded pages.

“baking?” he asks simply, knowing you well enough to know that the only reason you’d miss breakfast would be because you spent the majority of the night in the kitchens.

“how’d you know?” you tease, crossing your arms over your chest as he tsks, his fingers picking some stray leaves from your head from earlier when you were walking through the gardens.

“i help whisk the butter and sugar when you don’t feel like it. i don’t know why you keep me out of the kitchens,” he murmurs petulantly and you chuckle a little bit, rolling your eyes at his antics.

“it’s for your own sake,” you tell him, a glimmer in your eyes that he’d chase around the world the see, “and besides, i wasn’t baking. i was enjoying the fruits of my previous labor.”

gojo squints a little bit, confused. usually you eat what you make the night of, sometimes bringing a plate by his room if it’s not too late.

“when else did you bake this week without me?” he asks, trying to mask his hurt with a playful grin, trying to recall the times he heard back from one of his guards that you were down in the kitchens.

“only a few days ago, when i trying to assemble the cake.” you say with a shrug. his mouth opens in shock, a pout on his lips as he averts your gaze.

“you had cake? without me?” he almost whines it out and you shove his boot with the point of your shoe, trying to calm him down.

who would’ve thought the most fearsome warrior of the north, hell, the entire kingdom, would have such a sweet-tooth?

“it was small,” you try to reason, “and you wouldn’t have liked the flavors. it’s a recipe from the west.”

gojo groans, stepping closer to you as he gently flick your nose, watching the way you’d scrunch it up in annoyance.

“but you know i love cake,” he murmurs, “and you said you’d only bake it for birthdays…you lied to me,” his pink lips pull into a pout, one that you want to kiss off his gorgeous face, and control yourself from letting the heat get too much in your cheeks.

“well,” you quirk a brow, “if it helps, it was for a birthday.”

gojo looks up from the ground, brows furrowed once again in confusion.

“mine?” he says a little hopefully, as if it was anywhere near his birthday.

you snort, shaking your head as your finger pokes itself in your chest.

“mine…you idiot,” you mutter under your breath, wondering how somebody how his caliber could be so daft.

but he doesn’t seem to find it funny, in fact, his brows seem to meet in the middle, the pout gone form his lips as he frowns.

“what do you mean yours? your birthday isn’t for…? isn’t it in…?” he tries to think, think back to when your birthday was, only to realize he didn’t know, to realize he’d never asked you about it, always assuming it’d be something told to him.

“it’s nothing big,” you try to say quickly to cover up the awkwardness, “i usually just make myself a cake and get it over with.” you say with a chuckle but he’s not finding anything about this humorous.

great, you think bitterly to yourself, said something else and fucked it up. you wince, wishing you’d just stayed quite.

“your birthday was yesterday?” gojo asks, his voice hushed and heavy. he looks like he cares, he looks sad. you find it unnerving.

“i,” you laugh uncomfortably, fidgeting with your ring as you swallow thickly, “i think so...? i eyeball the day every year.”

truth be told you done really know what day you were born. your father never remembered the exact date seeing how the nature of his relationship with your mother was so secretive, and nobody ever found the true date out. so usually you find a date each year that you think matches with what time season you were born with and go with that.

gojo feels like his heart has slowed, watching the way you shrink into yourself the way he notices you’d i when you feel like you’ve done something wrong.

“eyeball?” he bites out and you wince at his tone, and he wishes he could take it back and start over again without the bite of a general in his words.

“look gojo it’s nothing, really,” you insist, waving him off as you try to escape, shifting around so you were closer to the doorway, “it’s just a day, it’s nothing important,” you tell him reassuringly.

but he doesn’t believe you, running a hand down his face as he pinches at the bridge of your nose.

“why do you write these things off as if they’re not important?” his voice is deep, echoing around the walls of the vast library as your hold your breath, “why don’t you-”

“because it’s not important,” you say again, your voice a little bit harsher, “it’s just a day.”

his eyes drown in blue, dark and wavering like the shoreline.

“then why bake a cake?” he snaps, not in anger but in genuine questioning, and your face falls a little.

maybe because years ago you thought it was something important. maybe because you want that little girl to feel like she matters.

he gapes, knowing he said something wrong, but can’t speak.

“i…” you open your mouth then close it again, looking away from him as you shrug, “i have to go, i - um, shoko asked for me.” you lie lamely, not caring as you bow your head down slightly to him before you briskly leave.

and maybe if you turned back you could see the way his face fell too.

but with all the maybes you’ve told yourself no to, you’ve grown accustomed to the belief that every maybe wouldn’t have a chance of becoming something.

because maybe if you had actually told him the truth when you wanted to a couple days ago, that you’d like to celebrate with him, he wouldn’t shut you down the way you’d imagined he would and maybe he would’ve said yes.

but for now you convince yourself that this man is a friend who pretends like he cares. because never once have you heard of a man caring so deeply for somebody that he’d shed a tear over the fact that you’d celebrate your birthday alone. but then again, you’ve never met a man like gojo before.

#gojo x reader #gojo x reader angst #gojo x you #gojo drabble #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk drabble #satoru x reader #jjk x you #arranged!gojo

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fumiliar · 2 months ago

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the epitome of a gentleman. as you stared at the blonde man in front of you, carrying someone's grandma's groceries. you were in awe.

"you've got a good man woman," the grandma who was holding onto your hand smiled. "reminds me of my own, he's at home right now."

"oh, is he sick?" you asked, as the grandma laughed.

"no, we're very healthy! it's just i wanted to do something special for him, i mean, after 50 years of marriage, he's done so much for me," she reminisced her younger days.

"actually, your husband looks like the younger version of mine, you too, i used to look like you! before the age manifested on my face," the grandma started searching inside her purse, finally pulling out a photo of young her. "see."

as you stared at the photo, it was her and her husband holding hands, she was beaming with a smile, while her husband's lips only showed a slight curve. and she was right. from the hairstyle, to the eyes, to the lips, almost everything was identical. "ken, you've got to see this!"

"why love?" he stopped in his tracks, turning around to head back to you. "what's got you both smiling?" he peaks over, seeing the photo you were holding in your hands. "i don't remember taking a photo like that."

"it's not us silly. it's her and her husband!" you lightly hit as his chest, as you and the grandma both burst into laughter.

"scary," kento's mouth forming a slight 'o' as he stared at the picture.

"anyways, my house is right up ahead, i don't want to take up more of your time!" the grandma tried taking the grocery bags from kento, earning a stern no.

"no, we're happy to help you out. we'll bring it to your house."

as you finally reached the grandma's house, she took the grocery bags inside, shouting a 'thank you' and a 'wait a moment'. she came out with a batch of freshly baked cookies, her husband slowly following her.

"take some! my treat for all the help," she nudged the pan closer, you took one cookie as your husband took another. you looked at each other, telepathically counting before you both took a bite at the same time. it was the best cookie you've ever tasted, it was like home.

"this is so good!" you stared at the grandma with heart eyes, as you could see a slight shade of red slowly creeping up to her cheeks.

"she's the best baker ever," you heard a low voice, coming from her husband. he walked over to put a hand over her shoulder, "please come over for dinner sometime, as a way of thanks for helping my dear wife."

you immediately nodded, as you exchanged numbers and goodbyes. kento's arm slowly snaked around your shoulder as you walked away from the house. he pushed your body closer to him, making sure you were touching each other.

"they remind me of us ken," you muttered.

"yea...they do. i guess in every lifetime, i'd always choose you."

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boowritess · 2 months ago

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simon got himself a young girlfriend. he really shouldn't be entertaining, ruining, a sweet thing like her but he can't help himself. he's depraved like that. wanting to ruin such a sweet, innocent thing. make it so they only think of him...

her parents loathe him. which is not a surprising reaction.

but simon's too big, too imposing, to make them say anything to his face, and oh, his sweet little thing has teeth that snap at her parents when they try to talk about how he's too old. too rough. he won't treat her right.

they're right, of course. but he's good at making his little girlfriend forget about his wrongdoing just by a little sweet whispering and gently coaxing her thighs apart with a rough, scared hand.

however, what he wasn't expecting was finding out about his young girlfriends older sister.

you.

there's an age gap between you and your sister. you're nearly the same age as simon. but that's not the only thing simon takes note off.

you're more fulled out, in places that simon has no business looking at, the innocent ones and the not so innocent ones. there's a couple more inches on you than your sister. not nearly as tall as he, but he thinks he likes it.

but what really gets him goin'. you don't react the same way to him like your parents did. there was no disdain, disgust or even fear in your eyes when you looked at him.

no.

instead he got a wide smile, a hair-flick over your shoulder and a hug. pulling him in, despite his rigid tenseness. patting his back.

"oh aren't you sweet?" your voice is smooth, and almost coo like when you pull away. eyes sparkling with what simon can only describe is warmth.

and while your parents avoid him when he's around. when you're home, you do the exact opposite. you hover around your sister, making sure she's eating well, looking after herself, and then you do the exact same thing to simon.

showering him in the same doting affection as your sister. making them both a plate of food, a lot of food. making sure they're warm and tucked in at night. it's giving them your card when you send your sister to the shops for something, and quieting simon when he says he has his own. doing your sisters laundry AND his.

and the praise. god the praise. it fucking wrecks him. despite most of it being innocent.

he's helping do the dishes when you come in. "oh aren't you being a good boy?" you chime, voice so warm and sweet. you pat his back, and there's a genuine smile on your face. "i'll make you a cuppa for doing so well."

"you ate all your food? aren't you a good lad? huh? c'mon then, make room for dessert for being good." you'll say, patting his stomach and moving to the fridge.

it sends him into a whirlwind.

he could be spending days with his girlfriend's parents, who act like he's not even there. too intimated by this grown man. which he liked. he likes that. imposing people. making them uncomfortable with his mere presence. it's what his little girlfriend likes.

but then you come in. being all nurturing and sweet. coddling his little girlfriend and then doing the same to him despite you and him nearly being the same age.

then he starts to realize that you're treating him like how you treat your younger sister. treating him like he's young and naive. who can't look after himself. completely helpless. praising him for the basics a human adult should not be getting praised for. treating him like a child.

you've been fucking treating him like some fresh out the womb kid this whole fucking time and he's only seeing it now.

and he really can't help it.

but he fucking likes it.

he aches for it.

in the barracks. late at night. instead of flicking through the pictures of his little girlfriend to help quell the ache in him.

he thinks about you. your warm perfume. the reassuring pats. the way praise seems to just smooth off your tongue so sweetly.

"good boy." fuck.

he stares at the mess he made, panting hard. letting out a groan of frustration when he thinks of you again. and for the third time his cock twitches, the ache returning again.

that's when he comes to the inevitable conclusion.

he's fucking ruined.

a/n: idk where i was going with this but. here u go xx love ya'll, drink water xx part 2 maybe idk.

#boowrites #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod mwii imagines #x reader #cod mwii #cod #simon ghost riley x oldersister!reader #??

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kentopedia · 1 year ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LOOK, MOM! — nanami kento

yuuji accidentally calls you mom

contents: nanami x fem!reader, husband nanami hehe, this is very silly and random and stupid, fluff, nanami & reader are yuuji's adoptive parents fr, words: 1059

“nanamin!” yuuji waves at the figure approaching from behind you, a flashy grin appearing on his face as he glances at the blonde man over your shoulder. “i didn’t know you were coming by today!”

kento's hair sweeps over his forehead in the wind, a few strands coming free as he heads towards you. it's a brisk day, and he has two hot coffees in his hands that he'd picked up after his mission.

a bead of sweat drips down yuuji's temple, and he wipes it with his sleeve, still breathing heavily. you'd spent the last hour training together, pushing his physical capabilities. gojo had been busy recently, between all the missions and his conversations with the higher ups.

so, of course, you'd volunteered to teach the newest student when he couldn't. quickly, he became your favorite of the three first years.

“i’m in between assignments.” kento hands you the coffee, places a gentle hand on your lower back with a smile that is hardly there. “mind if i steal my wife away for a bit?”

yuuji shrugs, his face still bright as he glances between the two of you. ever since he’d found out two of his favorite sorcerers were together, he’d hardly shut up about it.

“no problem. i’m going to meet up with fushiguro anyway.” he brushes the dirt off his pants, waving to the two of you.

“good job today, yuuji!” grateful for something to warm you up in the chilly air, you take a sip of the coffee. it’s perfect, as always, just what you needed. “you’re improving a lot!”

he grins, proud of his accomplishments. “thanks, mom! see you later!”

there's an elongated moment of silence.

you choke on your coffee as kento stiffens beside you, watching while yuuji comes to a skittering halt.

all three of you freeze. you cough, clearing your throat, and kento's hand, steady on your back, has stilled. “yuuji—“

“oh,” the teenager says, his face turning bright red as he realizes what he’s called you. he glances between the two of you, embarrassment evident. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to—“

though, you don’t give yuuji enough time to protest. within seconds, you’ve gathered him up in your arms, squeezing the younger boy to your chest. “kento, we have a son!”

you feel yuuji tense, before he relaxes, and throws his arms around you in an even tighter hug. there’s some sort of thanks resting there. he laughs, carefree, a sound you never want to be taken away from the boy who manages to shine so brightly in such a dark world.

kento stares at you, folds his glasses up in his pocket, as if to show you both how unimpressed he is. “do we?” he asks, lips flat, though, you see through the facade to the amusement hidden in his irises. “i'm certain i would’ve remembered something like that.”

you make a face at him, covering yuuji’s ears dramatically. “oh, don’t listen to your dad, yuuji. he’s old, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

kento blinks, and then sighs, wrinkling his nose. though, when he sees yuuji’s wide grin, his eager expression, he decides to play along.

“well, then... there must be a lapse in my memory." kento crosses his arms over his chest as he regards the two of your extensively, searching for something. "that would certainly explain the striking resemblance between us.” he says drily.

yuuji laughs, a loud snort. he looks nothing like either of you, but you’re not sure he’s ever gotten to witness kento's sarcastic sense of humor, the one that not everyone really gets.

“exactly!” yuuji quips back to kento’s blank expression. "everyone tells me i have the same smile as my dad!

kento’s trying hard not to let yuuji win that one, but you can see the slight wrinkle around his eye, the tiny quirk of his lips. beside the pink haired boy, you choke out a few giggles, covering your mouth.

“yes," kento nods, solemn. "i’ve heard that as well.”

"so you do know how to make jokes, nanamin!" yuuji shouts, nearly jumping in the air as he cheers. "i can't wait to tell fushiguro this."

kento rolls his eyes, but yuuji’s so pleased, and he releases you, his eyes soft and bright as he pulls away.

though he doesn’t say it, doesn't thank you for anything, you can tell he’s grateful. itadori yuuji may be happy with his life as it is now, may have found a home within the friends he’s made at the high school, but you know he misses his grandfather. sometimes, perhaps, he even longs for the conventional family he never really got to have.

you ruffle his hair, the pink strands catching between the cracks of your fingers. “tell him i said hello too.”

yuuji nods, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he steps away. “i will!” his cheerful gaze is pinned on your husband, a secretive smile making a home on his lips. “bye, dad.”

kento shakes his head, and sighs again, though you can tell, a part of him is touched to have won so much of yuuji's admiration. “have a good evening, itadori.”

you watch the young boy scurry away, hands in his pockets as he braces himself against the cold.

"you should be nicer to your son, kento."

kento snorts, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he brings you closer to him. "i am nice to him," he says, kissing your temple softly. "a little hard on him, maybe, but i just don't want anything bad to happen to him."

you soften, look up at him with warm eyes, and you squeeze the hand that is resting on your shoulder. "i know," you say, your heart clenching. you've thought about it before, thought of kento with a tiny child that looks just like him, cradled against his chest. thought of him with a little girl whose hair he can braid, a little boy he can raise to be a gentleman.

but you hadn't talked about it; you'd always thought your life was too busy, too dangerous for children.

"you'd make a good dad, ken," you say, your cheeks flushed as you grin at him.

kento's eyes flash. "really?" an array of emotions scurries across his features before he leans down, kissing you softly. "is this your way of telling me you want a baby, sweetheart?" his voice deepens as he whispers against your lips, smiling. "because i'm more than happy to give you one."

#kento nanami x reader #jjk x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami x you #nanami x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆#xoxo rylie 💌 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

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d1stalker · 3 months ago

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Suspension Bridge Effect [Logan Howlett]

Summary: You saved one of the younger mutants during a mission, and now he's obsessed with you, much to Logan's dismay

Warnings: mainly Logan POV, jealousy, cuteness, fem!reader WC: 2.6k - MASTERLIST

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Logan’s losing it; his thoughts are spiralling to the point where he wonders if he should be locked up.

At least, that’s what he thinks is happening as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. You’re standing near the edge of the mansion's garden, laughing softly as the kid—Johnny, a younger teenage mutant—tries to hand you a bouquet of hastily picked flowers. His face is flushed, eyes wide with admiration, and he’s practically vibrating with nervous energy as he looks up at you.

This punk, this moron, this lovesick blockhead, has been glued to your side ever since you saved him during the last mission.

It was supposed to be a standard run-of-the-mill rescue operation, but when things went south, and he was cornered, you swooped in like the hero you are and got him out unscathed. Now, the kid’s been following you around like a lost puppy, trying to win your attention, your approval—your everything. And it’s infuriating.

Logan can feel his hands clench into fists as he watches Johnny offer you the worst attempt at a bouquet he's ever seen, and sees the youngster's face turning a deeper shade of red as he mumbles something the older man can’t quite hear. Probably some dumb compliment, he thinks bitterly. The kid’s got no game.

You smile at Johnny. It's that soft, kind smile that always makes Logan’s heart skip a beat. But this time, all it does is fuel the fire raging within. He knows that smile isn’t just for him, but damn it, he wishes it were.

He wishes you’d tell the kid to scram, that you’re already spoken for, that you have a lovely boyfriend who could put together a way better bunch of flowers, but instead, you take the flowers with a gentle laugh, thanking the goblin like he’s just handed you a priceless treasure.

And somehow, the torment is never ending, it seems. Because later in the day he find’s himself lurking at the doorway of the mansion library, watching as you and Johnny sit together, heads bent over some book he know knows the little gremlin is just pretending to be interested in. That brat is soaking up every second of your attention, hanging on your every word, and it’s driving Logan up the wall.

“He’s just a kid,” you keep saying whenever he grumbles about it, but you don’t see it. You don’t see the way the bastard’s eyes light up whenever you smile at him, or how he leans in just a little too close when you’re explaining something to him. You don’t notice the small touches—the way his hand lingers on your arm when he’s pulling you somewhere, the way he looks at you like you’re the centre of his universe.

Logan sees it all, because he’s been there before. He knows exactly what Johnny’s feeling because he felt the same way when he first met you. Still does. It's that intense, all-consuming crush that makes you do stupid things just to be near the person you can’t stop thinking about.

“Logan, you’re staring,” Jean’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and he turns to see her smirking at him from across the hallway.

“I’m not starin’. Just keepin’ an eye on things,” he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You’re jealous.”

He scowls at her. “I ain’t jealous of some kid.”

“Sure you’re not,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Why don’t you just talk to her about it?”

Clenching his jaw, he knows she’s right but not wanting to admit it. “She doesn’t get it. She thinks it’s cute.”

“Maybe if you told her how you’re feeling, she’d understand,” Jean suggests gently, though there’s a knowing look in her eyes.

Huffing and turning away from the library, Logan has decided that he’s had enough of standing on the sidelines. He needs to do something before he loses his mind entirely. But it seems he can’t escape this torture, because he can’t even get five minutes alone with you.

He tried to get your attention after you finished up teaching your class, but before he could, the little devil ran in front of him and got it first. His eye twitches as he watches Johnny offer you another “gift,” this time a poorly folded paper crane. You take it with a smile, thanking him kindly, and Logan grits his teeth so hard he swears his molars might shatter.

“Hey, kid,” He grumbles, stepping forward with a growl in his throat that would send most people running. “Don’t you got somewhere else to be?”

Johnny looks up, momentarily startled by the sharp tone, but then just gives a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. “Uh, no, sir. I was just, um, hanging out with her.”

“Yeah, well, she’s got things to do. Don’t you, darlin’?” Logan’s eyes flicker to you, hoping you’ll catch the hint and send the kid on his way.

But you don’t. You just laugh. A musical sound that makes him want to clamp his hand over your mouth because why should that devil's spawn get to hear your beautiful voice? He’s truly about to lose it.

“It’s fine, babe. Johnny’s just being sweet.”

Sweet. Logan wants to snort. Sweet is one word for it. Obnoxious, irritating, and clingy are a few others that come to mind.

“You got a crush or somethin’, boy?” His tone is laced with a dangerous edge as he crosses his arms over his chest, towering over the knucklehead. He’s trying not to outright scare him, but damn, he’s close to it.

Johnny turns beet red, stammering, “N-no, I just… she saved me, and I just wanted to say thank you, that’s all!”

Narrowing his eyes, a low snarl rumbles from his chest, and Logan takes a deliberate step forward, but before he can do more, you place a hand on his arm, pulling him back.

“Logan, that’s enough,” you say firmly, giving him a pointed look.

Well, there goes another piece of his sanity.

You’re too kind, too understanding. You just don't get it. To you, it’s just an innocent crush, something harmless, something that makes you smile. You think it’s nothing, and that only makes his blood boil more.

“Fine,” he finally mutters, stepping back, though his eyes never leave the teenager’s. Johnny seems to take that as some kind of begrudging acceptance and gives you another shy smile before scurrying off, likely to find the next token of his gratitude to bring to you.

Once he’s gone, Logan lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is drivin’ me nuts, you know that?”

You just chuckle again, stepping closer to him and slipping your arms around his waist. “It’s just a phase, I’m sure. He’ll get over it.”

Wrapping his arms around you tightly and pulling you in close, he feels a little bit better in your embrace, but his eyes still track where Johnny disappeared into the mansion. “He better. ’Cause if he doesn’t, I might lose my damn mind.”

You tilt your head up, kissing his jaw softly. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

He huffs, not wanting to admit it, but the truth is written all over his face. “Maybe a little.”

Smiling, you lean up to kiss him properly. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Logan kisses you back, a little more possessively than usual, as if to remind himself that you’re his. And even as you melt into him, he can’t help but keep one eye open, scanning the garden for any sign of that kid returning. He might be crazy, but he’ll be damned if he lets some lovestruck teenager get between him and the woman he loves.

—

The next morning, the mansion is buzzing with its usual activity. You and Logan head to the dining hall for breakfast, with him looking a little more relaxed after a night of holding you close. But the moment you step into the room, he spots a certain demon sitting at a table, eyes locked on you as if he’s been waiting for this very moment.

Groaning under his breath, Logan mutters, “Not again,” before guiding you to a table near the windows, hoping Johnny won’t follow.

You take your seat, smiling up at your boyfriend as he pulls out his chair, and for a brief second, he dares to believe that he might actually get to enjoy a quiet breakfast with you. But just as he’s about to sit down beside you, Johnny swoops in out of nowhere, plopping down in Logan’s seat with a grin like he’s just won the lottery.

“Morning!” He chirps, completely oblivious to the thunderous look on the other man’s face.

Freezing in his place, Logan glares at the kid who’s now sitting where he was supposed to be. He mentally cycles through a list of unflattering nicknames—Useless Idiot, Captain Obnoxious, Motherfu—but none of them seem quite strong enough to capture his current feelings. “You’re in my seat, kid.”

Johnny blinks up at him, feigning innocence. “Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t see your name on it.”

You can practically see the self-control it takes for Logan not to pick the kid up and toss him across the room. His fingers twitch at his sides, his claws itching to come out, but he holds back. For your sake, and only your sake.

“Johnny,” you start, trying to keep your voice gentle but firm, “you do know he is my boyfriend, right? And even if he wasn’t, I’m a bit too, uh, old for you?”

The young mutant's eyes widen, and for a split second, you think you might have gotten through to him. But then he glances over at Logan, his face scrunching up like he’s just eaten something sour.

“Yeah, but he’s, like, hella old,” The idiot blurts out, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as if the mutant standing right there can’t hear every word.

Logan’s expression darkens, a storm brewing in his eyes as his jaw tightens to the point where you can almost hear his teeth grinding. Hella old? Is this guy serious?

He's dealt with all kinds of enemies—mutants, monsters, government assassins—but nothing, nothing has tested his patience like this hellspawn has been. “What did you just say?” he growls menacingly.

Johnny, either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, doesn’t back down. “I mean, no offense, but you’ve got a lot of… uh, experience, you know? And you’re like centuries old. Maybe she needs someone closer to her age.”

That’s the last straw. Logan’s eyes flash with anger and something else—something more vulnerable that you rarely see. A part of him knows the gremlin’s just talking out of his ass, but the words hit a little too close to home, stirring up old insecurities he usually keeps buried deep.

Without another word, he slams his hand down onto the table, the sound echoing through the dining hall like a gunshot. The room falls into stunned silence as he then storms out, his footsteps heavy and his anger radiating off of him in waves. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t acknowledge the whispers that follow in his wake. He just needs to get away before he does something he’ll regret.

“Logan, wait—” you call after him, but he’s already halfway out the door.

You turn back to Johnny, who’s now looking a little less confident and a lot more like he might have made a mistake. Sighing, you lean forward with a serious expression. “You can’t just say things like that. He’s not just my boyfriend. He’s the person I love.”

Looking down at the table, his face falls, and he begins fiddling with the napkin in his lap. “I didn’t mean to make him mad. I just thought—You saved me and I felt something…I thought maybe you’d feel something for me too.”

You soften, reaching out to pat his hand. “Johnny, you’re a sweet kid, but you’ve got to understand that Logan’s the one I’m with, and no one can replace him.”

He nods slowly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. “I get it,” he mumbles. “I just…”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “You’ll find someone your own age who’s perfect for you. But for now, you need to give us some space, okay?”

Johnny nods again, this time more resolutely. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just… try not to instigate anything else. I’ll go talk to him.” You give him one last reassuring smile before heading toward the exit.

When you step out into the hallway, you barely have a second to process your thoughts and decide where to look before you’re suddenly pressed up against the wall. A gasp escapes your lips, but it’s quickly swallowed by Logan’s mouth on yours. The surprise melts away as the intensity of his kiss overtakes your senses, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

His kiss is possessive and fierce. You can feel the frustration, the jealousy, the need to claim what’s his, pouring out of him with every movement of his lips against yours. For a moment, you lose yourself in the heat of it, letting the world around you fade as you focus solely on him.

Then, through the haze of the kiss, the practical part of your brain kicks in. You pull back just enough to murmur against his lips, “Logan… we’re gonna get caught.”

He growls softly, his lips trailing down to your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “Let them see,” he mutters between kisses. “Maybe then that damn dunce will get the hint.”

You laugh, though the sound is cut off as he captures your lips again, his hands gripping your waist as if he’s afraid to let go. “Babe, really,” you whisper, trying to sound serious but failing as your body responds eagerly to his touch. “People are gonna see…”

“I don’t care,” he grumbles, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you involuntarily shiver against him. “Shoulda thrown that little shit out on his ass… let him know who you belong to.”

“You’re jealous of a teenager,” you tease, though the words come out breathless and almost lost in the intensity of the moment.

Logan pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark. “Don’t like him sniffin’ around you, thinkin’ he’s got a shot.”

You smile up at him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him back down for another kiss. “You don't need to feel threatened by him. You’re the only one I want.”

He huffs softly, his lips brushing against yours as he mutters, “Damn right I am.”

“C’mon,” you murmur, gently pushing against his chest. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private, huh?”

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering back toward the dining hall, as if half-expecting Johnny to come barreling out any second. But then he nods, taking your hand and leading you down the hallway, away from prying eyes. His grip on your hand is tight, territorial, and you can’t help but smile as you follow him.

As you walk together, you give his hand a squeeze. “Logan?”

“Yeah?” He glances over at you, his expression softening slightly.

“I love you, you know that?” You say it with that pretty grin of yours, and the way his eyes warm in response makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “I love you too.”

The remaining tension melts away, leaving just the two of you walking hand in hand, ready to steal a few more precious moments together.

----

A/N: this was really fun to write!

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