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wedreamedlove · 2 months ago

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[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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polina-me · 3 months ago

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Inspiration has come to me sharply, therefore, here is the relationship of the Duck-McDuck family to "feminine" things and etc.

Della Duck

SHE HATES wearing skirts, dresses and makeup.

She admits that all these things are cute and all that, but the maximum that she will allow herself from the "feminine" is only long hair.

She may be interested in something, but she doesn't see herself in it.

As a child, she was often naughty and changed clothes with Donald, which is why she often got a kick in the ass, especially from the ancestors of the McDucks and grandma Duck, but in the end they resigned themselves.

She is offended that she is primarily seen as a girl, and not a pilot and/or an adventurer.

She likes to admire something feminine, but not in terms of "I want it too"

"Wow, this girl is so beautiful..." "Yeah, I wonder where she got this dress?" “what? Oh, well. Uh."

Donald Duck

As always, Donald is the complete opposite for Della and he LOVES "feminine" things.

As a child, he almost never quarreled with Della, and if she said she wanted to change clothes, then he just shrugged and changed. When McDuck's grandparents and grandmother Duck scolded Della for looking "not like a girl," he never understood why they couldn't change clothes. Grandparents McDuck and Grandma Duck stopped after he asked Hortense why they couldn't change clothes.

In the emo phase, he mastered makeup and learned how to work with hair and even had a wig!

When he got older, he realized that he was a femboy (you can also say crossdresser) and, fearing condemnation and ridicule from the family and especially Scrooge, began a double life with the name Dolores NiPato

Growing up, he began to give up his second life more often in favor of his family, arguing for himself like this: "I am already an adult man, I need to stop"

During the ten-year breakup, he wore a long skirt so that the triplet ducklings could reach out and attract his attention, but when they grew up, he stopped, fearing that he would set a bad example

Huey Duck

It's hard for me to say anything about him. Everyone remembers him as a trans girl, but I do not know my exact opinion about this, so I have two of them:

1. He is indifferent to women's things and does not mind wearing pink according to his mood. He can wear skirts and dresses, but mostly when he realizes that he is actually half-naked and in the mood. He wants to grow his hair out to see how it will look with sideburns. He can learn to wear makeup to help his brothers.

2. Transfem, but tomboy with long hair.

Dewey Duck

Like Donald, he loves women's things very much! But unlike him, the duckling is not afraid to show it, because Donald tried all the time to show him that he is normal, different, but normal

Sometimes he receives jokes from Huey and Louie in the style of "Oh, my lady, you are so beautiful today!", but often does not understand that this is a joke and is sincerely embarrassed and rejoices at the compliments, which makes his brothers feel a little awkward

Some days, she dresses up with Webby in the same clothes because it's cool and thinks it seals their union as brother and sister

He always tries to join the bachelorette party or ask Lena to teach him how to make up (for Lena it's exhausting, so she taught Huey how to make up so that he could teach Dewey)

When he was at school and wearing a skirt, he was bullied, but he could often stand up for himself and/or he was protected by Huey and Louie

When Donald was called to school because of Dewey's "inappropriate appearance", he made such a scandal that the principal was very afraid of him and the duckling sometimes compared Uncle Donald with his mother in his thoughts

He likes to show off his images and outfits in front of Della, even if they are stupid. Della loves them all. "YES! YES, BABY! THIS IS MY BOY! SHOW ME THE EMOTIONS!"

Louie Duck

He mostly doesn't care about clothes, he only wears something comfortable and/or expensive

Sometimes he may wear makeup, but he is mostly lazy

He loves different rings and bracelets, but he has almost no sense of style, so he had to be taught how to wear jewelry correctly

Will destroy your life if you say even one bad word about his femboy brother (and trans sister)

Webby Vanderquack

Just a girl🥰💕

Sincerely does not understand why pink is only for girls

She gets offended and angry when they call her "childish" because of her favorite color

Curse your soul to eternal torment in Hell for your words about Dewey and Holly (name for trans Huey)💀😈

Scrooge McDuck

Just an old man sticking to the old rules

In fact, he doesn't really care whether he wears women's clothes or men's clothes either. But fuck you with a cane if you say that kilt = skirt

Purely out of interest, he may ask about makeup or some feminine things for self-care

He can wear a skirt or a dress, he doesn't care. But he still feels embarrassed in these outfits because of his old considerations.

He doesn't even suspect that he caused Donald's injury💀

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cullen-cannons · 5 months ago

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Who Broke It?

Edward *totally about to murder somebody*: So. Who broke Bella's hand? I'm not mad. I just want to know. ROSALIE *quirking an eyebrow, obviously messing with him*: Really? You look pretty damn pissed to me.

ESME *frowning*: Rose, language. CARLISLE *just wanting to avoid an argument and more tension because they’re all already stressed about Victoria’s army*: I did. I broke it, let me fix it, please. It shall only take a moment. The fracture appears to be a minor one, I can reset the bone in a second, and I have cast plaster in my office. She will be healed in under six weeks. EDWARD: Of course, please fix her. And I know that. But I also know you didn’t break it. Emmett? I’m sure it was an accident, but vampires don’t make mistakes. I’ve told all of you many times to be very careful with her. She’s the love of my life. ROSALIE *rolls her eyes and shakes her head*: Yeah, yeah. You’ll go and kill yourself if she gets hurt or if she gets scared of us and leaves you, which we can safely assume by now WON’T happen because just face it, you aren’t nearly as scary as you think you are. We know. So shut it.

ESME *thinks about saying something, but agrees with the sentiment, even if not the wording, so she decides not to, but gives Rosalie a warning glance anyway.* EMMETT: Don't look at me. Look at Rosalie, *looking at Rosalie, speaking softer* sorry babe. *looking back to Edward, speaking louder* Read my thoughts. ROSALIE: What?! I didn't break it. I don’t even want to touch the stupid human. CARLISLE *in a warning tone as he takes a slightly concerned but amused Bella upstairs to his office for treatment*: Rose. Please. Be nice.

JACOB *just wants to take a dig at Rosalie (definitely not to redirect suspicion maybe)*: Huh. That's weird. How did you even know it was broken, huh, blondie? ROSALIE: Because she's sitting right in front of us and her hand is broken, dumbass. JACOB: Suspicious. ROSALIE: No, mongrel, it's not! EMMETT *trying not to laugh at his younger sister's overreaction, glancing at Jasper who’s already glaring back and shaking his head*: If it matters, probably not... Jasper was the last one to see her.

JASPER *sighing, but going along with it because he wants to mock Edward*: Liar! I don't even usually go near Bella! EMMETT *thrilled that Jasper's actually playing along for once*: Oh really? Then what were you doing with her earlier?

JASPER: Firstly, Ali was with me the entire time *looking to Alice with clearly false panic* Right, darlin’? And I can't resist a good emotional climate. Everyone knows that, Emmett! CARLISLE *coming downstairs, holding Bella’s good hand to steady her, frowns at his children in the living room below*: Alright let's not fight. I broke it, I’ve fixed it. I gave her some Advil. She is as fine as she will be until the cast comes off. And she’s not in any pain. Right, Bella. BELLA *nodding enthusiastically, a little exaggerated to convince Edward because she’s still a bad liar*: Nope. Can’t feel a thing! Besides, this is nowhere near as bad as the time I almost got killed by a van. *she hopes the joke will ease the mood. It does not.* let’s just focus on what to do about Victoria.

JACOB *tilts his head in confusion. He was unaware of this and it makes him feel slightly protective of Bella.*: Yeah. But when did the van thing happen? *mentally* Of course, that would happen to her. You’re good for one thing bloodsucker, you better have not let her be hurt . . . Oh, who am I kidding? I bet you saved her, didn’t you? Swooped in like Batman with your dumb sideburns and charmed her.

EDWARD *ignoring Jacob’s words, and refusing Bella’s suggestion of a topic change*: No. Who broke it? *He’s already scowling at Jacob who’s thinking in suspicious detail of the wool armchair in front of him* ALICE *seeing the future*: Oh no, Jacob. You kibble-for-brains! Don’t go there. JASPER *whispering to his wife as he kisses her ear softly, bemused*: What, darlin’? ALICE *sighing and rolling her eyes*: You’ll see. JACOB *getting desperate and ignoring Alice in favour of mentally whispering*: hey, bloodsucker, your mom has been awfully quiet . . .

EDWARD *triggered, understandably because Jacob just insulted his mum*: Really?! JACOB *lost all sense because he’s trying to block his thoughts and simultaneously avoid the beating Edward looks ready to give him as his mental barrier cracks*: Yeah, really! EMMETT *really curious, leans over to Alice*: What’d he say? EDWRAD *scanning Jacob’s thoughts for proof he knows is there and giving him the death stare* ALICE *gives everyone a quick whispered recap*: So, yeah . . .

The Cullens *readying to fight*: He said WHAT about Esme? *Only Carlise remains still, just frowning. He knows Jacob didn’t mean it, but is still a little offended* *but Edward gets to Jacob first* EDWARD *grabs Jacobs’s right wrist and starts twisting*: Your little treaty only covers killing, and I won’t be anywhere as kind. You’re on our land now, wolf, so- ALICE *blinking away a vision, steps out from behind Jasper*: Eddie, stop. As entertaining as this is, he’s about to confess. JACOB: Okay, jeez, fine. At least one of you leeches has respect. JASPER *snarls a low warning snarl and pulls Alice closer* ALICE *who knows what he’s going to say*: Oh you’re one to talk, mutt.

EDWARD *holding Bella’s good hand, not trusting himself not to maim Bella’s best friend right there as he reads his thoughts* JACOB: Sorry. I did it, I broke her hand. I kissed her and she broke her hand punching my face. Total misunderstanding! ROSALIE “Rapist Ravager” Hale: Are you shitting me, Fido? You. Did. What to her? *already charging* I don’t like her, and maybe she wants to become one of us which is as good as dying, but that still doesn’t give you the right to- The Cullens *all trying to hold her back* CARLISLE *sighing*: I’m so sorry Bella, you must think terribly of us. I swear we aren’t normally so . . . disorganised. BELLA *craning her neck cautiously, trying to see Rosalie and Jacob in the pile of bodies*: They’ll be okay, right?

ESME: Oh, this used to happen every other week when Rose was a newborn. Emmett will take and to cool off and she’ll be fine by morning. Edward loves you, he won’t let your friend be hurt. *looking knowing to her husband* Besides, I know he’ll take his chance to pick at his sister.

EPILOGUE: CARLISLE, ALICE, and JASPER gang up to get ROSALIE and EDWARD (who teamed up for once) off JACOB. It’s a miracle his limbs remained intact. He’s feeling very grateful for his speed-healing.

(A/N: Please, please, please tell me if this made you laugh because I spent way too long on it, plus I lost the work and had to retype it all over again too.)

#twilight incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #who broke it #the cullens incorrect quotes #cullen coven incorrect quotes #olympic coven incorrect quotes #the olympic coven #the cullen coven #the twilight saga #twilight saga #twilight #bella cullen #edward cullen #carlisle cullen #alice cullen #jasper hale #rosalie lillian hale

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dreamingofep · 11 months ago

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Sinned Awakening pt. 22 🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin! Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond beliet and your undeniable attraction makes you tear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, teasing, mentions of blood/gore!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: Hello everyone happy Sunday! I’m having a lot of fun writing about not one, but two vampires now🤭 Reader is a really challenging vampire so Elvis has his hands full with you🤭 Hope you like this little part. More to come shortly! Please comment, message, and reblog if you feel so inclined

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here or Ao3 I hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

One.

We’re one.

That word left you breathless and never thought it would be completely true. He made you his and you did the same. You feel like you’re on a cloud, floating aimlessly around him and this new world you had to discover. You continue to study every detail of him, some that you’ve never realized he had before. Like the way his sideburns curl at the ends by his ears. Or how his eyebrows had this fluffiness to them and perfectly framed his eyes. And the way his neck has this perfectly carved musculature to it that makes you want to lick all the way up to the part of his neck you bit before.

The feeling of his touch zaps you back to reality and you look back into his eyes. You’re still taken aback by the beautiful golden sparkling eyes that look back into yours.

“How do you feel baby?” He coos.

You had to pause and think about it. You weren’t accustomed to any of this and weren’t exactly sure what you should be feeling.

“I think I’m okay, everything feels a little different but I feel perfectly fine so far,” you smile.

“I know honey, you’ll need some getting used to it all but it’s okay. I’ll help you through it all,” he assures.

Your thumb rubs against his smooth, flawless face. “How long was I….sleeping? I don’t know exactly what the right word is,” You ask.

“Eight days. I-I-I don’t know why…I’ve never been so scared. I thought I did something wrong.” His voice trembles, pulling you tighter in his arms.

You could feel this impending dread and anxiety in the pit of your stomach and consumed every ounce of your energy. But it wasn’t coming from you, you weren’t feeling like that at all. It was like being fed to you and amplified by a loudspeaker.

You take a step back and look at him bewildered.

“What the hell was that?” You ask in shock.

“What was what?” He looks at you concerned.

“That feeling of impending doom, but I wasn’t the one creating that feeling. It was almost like it was being shown to me or something,” you stutter.

He puts his hands on your arms to calm you and he gives a small smirk at you.

“I think that’s just our bond. Our senses are heightened and attuned to one another more than ever now that we’re bonded. Remember how I told you I could feel your pain when Raphael took you? In some way, that was a small preview of what would happen to us after we were one. I didn’t know it would feel that intense to you I’m sorry about that,” he says sheepishly.

“No it’s okay, you don’t need to be sorry. It was just unexpected to feel an emotion that isn’t my own, you know?” You try to articulate.

“I get it, honey. I honestly am still trying to find more answers about what our new abilities hold,” he explains.

This was a world that even Elvis wasn’t accustomed to and that was a bit frightening. There was so much to discover.

“So you have no idea why I didn’t change right away?” You ask, rubbing circles with your thumb on his forearm, his skin feeling obsessional. The way it’s so soft and melted into yours without trying. You wanted to feel so much more of it. Starting with his back under this silk shirt he had on or feel those soft little hairs on his chest you loved so much.

Jesus focus.

“No, I haven’t yet. None of the legends go into the details of what Chosen mates go through because they are so rare. God, I was so scared, I had no idea what had gone wrong or if this was completely normal.”

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that alone honey. I can’t believe I changed like this.”

“I know, you changed very slowly. First, with your heart slowing to an immortal pace. It was strange, it didn’t have that normal symphonic sound that I was used to hearing so much. Then your scars on your body healed and started to be covered by this beautiful glowing skin,” he says dreamily, dragging his finger ever so slowly down your neck and along the top of your breast. Your body can’t help but arch into that touch that leaves your skin aflame. He takes a deep breath and recomposes himself.

“Then you were very still, with no signs that you’d be waking up from this hibernation any time soon. I was like a caged animal, pacing the room all day and night worried sick I somehow did something terribly wrong to you. I called some friends, vampires, if they had heard about anything like this happening when the change was occurring and every answer I got was the same. They’d never heard anything like this and didn’t know a bonded mate existed anymore. ”

“On the fourth day, I looked at myself in the mirror, ready to be faced by the monster who ruined his Chosen mate and isn’t waking up for whatever reason. For the last fourteen years, I have been used to staring at the red, glowing, soulless eyes that I have been cursed with for quite some time now. I was shocked by every fiber of my being when I saw these glowing youthful eyes stare back at me instead. I was in shock and didn’t know what was happening to me.”

“Sometimes, I tried to wake you, calling your name and have you open your eyes for me, but to my disappointment, you never did. But I could hear your heart flutter at the sound of my voice so I’d talk to you, coaxing you through this all hoping you’d wake up faster. It gave me hope that you were still in there and just needed the time to change. I’d caress your face, feeling how perfect your face felt in my hand.”

As he’s explaining this all, you feel the worry come off of him and it hits you like a tornado. You try to brace yourself for such emotions coming your way but it's almost impossible.

“And the strangest thing happened a few days after that…” he mumbles.

“What do you mean?” You prod.

You chuckle a bit before starting to speak again, “Well, I was changing, physically. I don’t know why but, I was changing into my twenty-four-year-old self without me even thinking about it. It just came so naturally to me because well, that is what I look like under all this in reality. But I’ve always controlled how I look, it doesn’t just get out of hand and I hardly need to think about staying that physical appearance.”

“So I was walking around here worried sick about you, trying to alter my appearance again so you wouldn’t be so startled when you woke up and not be able to recognize me from the last time you saw me,” he chuckles.

“Oh honey, that’s so strange… I really wonder why that is. But I wouldn’t have minded waking up to you like that. Nevertheless handsome, I could never forget this perfect face,” you quip.

He slyly smirks, “thanks little darlin’,” he says low, his eyes staring at your pink lips. He makes a small grumble in his chest as wraps his arms around you once more. “We’ll get some answers soon, let me just hold you.”

His warmth engulfs you and this sense of comfort and longing fills the pit of your stomach. You sigh into him, savoring every last feeling he’s giving you.

“You’re so warm,” you sigh into his chest. He hums delighted, squeezing you tighter before looking down at you.

“We’re the same body temperature now,” he murmurs.

“Oh… I didn’t even think of that,” you say embarrassed. “How do I feel? Any different than the last?” You ask cheekily.

“Hmm… I haven’t gotten to touch ya, let me see,” he coos.

He carefully unties the robe and slips his hands along the curve of your back. You let out a stifled breath and look up at him longingly. His hands travel down further til he fills his hands with your ass and squeezes it firmly. You claw at his biceps and you can’t help but want more from his talented hands. You feel all this desire come flowing out of him and barreling toward you. You feel like it's suffocating you and yet you can’t get enough of it. His hands move back up your back and squeeze at your hips, pulling you closer to him.

“You feel more perfect than ever,” he says as he stares at your breasts. He drags one of his hands up your torso til he can cup your breast and roll your nipple in between his fingers. A spark of electricity runs through you and you moan. You press your face into the crook of his neck and groan in agony. That delicious-smelling scent fills your head once again and makes you feel intoxicated. You groan heavily as you look at him, “what’s that smell?” You ask.

He places his hand back on your hip and throws you a confused look.

“Your senses are overwhelmed right now honey, it could be a number of things. What does it smell like to you baby?” He asks.

“It’s warm and sweet, almost like honey. But savory and delectable, like I can just take a bite out of it and be pleased beyond my wildest dreams,” you try to explain. He tries to hide his pompous smirk but you catch it anyway.

“What? What is that look for?” You press.

“Umm well darlin’, I think that’s me you’re smelling. That’s how you smell to me at least, all sweet and decadent. Like I could feed from that heavenly nectar and feel alive again,” he says low and sultry.

God yes, he makes you feel just like that without even trying. He runs a finger down your neck again and you see how much he wants you.

It’s not only him you’re attracted to, it’s the scent of his blood drawing you to him, this invisible bond attached to the lust for blood coursing through your veins. It all makes you feel for Elvis when you two first met. How he explained to you he thought you were beautiful and the scent of you only put him over the edge of wanting you. That’s how you felt at this moment. You already loved this man so much but now, what you would give for a taste of him. In a flash, this immense wave of hunger consumed you and you looked up at him frightened, unsure of what to do. Your throat started to burn and your mouth watered by just the mere idea of blood.

Especially Elvis’.

Your memory was very murky when you tried to remember how he tasted when you bit him to complete the change. You remember it not tasting very good at first, then it turned into something delicious.

“Oh baby, it’s okay, calm down. Let's get you something to drink alright?” He assures you, closing your robe up again, and ties it shut. He takes your hand to lead you downstairs to the kitchen but you stop him in his tracks by pulling slightly on his arm. You were a little shocked so little force actually stopped him. It was going to take some time to realize you’re just as strong as Elvis now. He looks at you a little surprised too and tries to lure you further out of the room by taking a few steps away.

“I want yours, right now,” you command, barely recognizing your voice right now with how demanding you sound. He lets out an intrigued grumble and feel him like that idea very much.

“Not right now honey, you have zero control and I’m almost sure you’d try to suck me dry,” he quips smartly. “For the first time, I’m the one with the great control, and not you. We have blood in the kitchen, come on honey,” he coaxes.

Your blood boiled not getting your way. It was very irrational, yes, but this new lust for blood made you feel very differently than you ever have. Your throat continued to burn and you huffed at Elvis and reluctantly followed him down to the kitchen. There was no one here and you could hear the waves crash on the shore from below. The wind whirled through the palm tree leaves and you could hear people playing on the shore of the beach.

He lets go of your hand and goes to the refrigerator. The middle shelf was stacked with blood bags and Elvis grabbed one off the top. Something about the notion of drinking blood this way for the first time made you feel queasy. Maybe the human part of you was still inside of you holding on for dear life.

You look up at Elvis with the bag in his hand and going to grab a glass out of the cabinet.

“Okay, baby we can do this one of two ways. Either I can pour this in a glass for you or, you can learn how to use your fangs. Which one do you prefer?” He taunts.

Your fangs.

Oh my God, how could you have forgotten you have fangs now? You couldn’t even begin to comprehend how to use them or even get them to descend.

“Teach me how to use my fangs,” you say promptly.

“Hmm, good girl,” he praises, “okay come here,” he says leading you to the table. He takes a seat on one of the chairs and has you stand in front of him.

“You need to focus on your fangs and your fangs alone. Everyone is a little different but visualize them, picture your teeth becoming sharp and strong. Let that hunger you have drive them out,” he explains.

You swallow and feel the thirst in your throat grow greater. You huff slightly in frustration and try to focus like he’s saying. You’ve never actually seen your fangs so it’s hard for you to visualize what they might look like. But you can only assume they look like Elvis’, long and sharp.

You look at the blood bag in his hand and try to imagine how it’ll taste when you finally taste that blood. Your mouth waters just thinking about it and you think that’s a good sign your body is responding to it in a good way.

“Breathe in through your nose, smell it. That helps a lot,” he says.

You do just that and take a deep breath, trying to get the scent of the blood in your nose and get your newfound senses to work. You lick your lips and take more deep breaths, trying to pick up the scent.

Warm and rich honey swirls in your head and you know what that smell is.

You look up at him with hunger-filled eyes, grab onto his wrist, and try to pull him in but he anticipates the move.

“I just smell you. Baby I want you,” you plead, every breath creating more hunger inside you.

He smirks at you amused and shakes his head at you.

“I know you do, but you don’t get to have mine just yet. You need to learn how to focus and use your senses properly,” he says smugly.

You groan in protest, hating you're not getting your way.

“Please, please let me honey. I’m starving,” you continue to plead. He presses his lips together to stop the laugh about to come out.

“Is this how I sounded to you? So needy and hungry all the time? I’m so sorry darling to put you through that when you were human, that must have been awful to hear all the time,” he winks.

“You fucking little tease,” you grumble, swallowing back the pain in your throat.

“Oh come now honey, I’m just trying to help you. You need to focus or you’ll never get to drink my blood,” he pesters.

You grumble, so annoyed with him and how he’s not letting you do what you want. You try to refocus on the bag and make your entire senses focus on what’s in there. You huff and groan at your thirst and take a deep breath in, closing your eyes to try and get your mind to focus on the bag.

A delicious little whiff hits your nose that smells completely different from Elvis and you pop your eyes back to him.

“I smell it,” you say hurriedly.

“Good, now keep taking deep breaths and let your fangs descend. You can do it, honey,” he coaxes.

You hiss as the burning in your throat worsens and the smell of the blood overwhelms you. You feel no change happening in your mouth and you’re beginning to get extremely frustrated. You were so hungry and this wasn’t easy like you thought.

“Goddamn it this is impossible. I can’t do this. Just cut open the bag,” you growl at him.

Elvis lets out a small chuckle and sees how frustrated you’ve become.

“Okay baby, seems like I need to give you a little more motivation hmm?” He smiles and brings his other wrist to his mouth.

You watch as he nips at his skin and the whiff of his delectable scent consumes you and makes your eyes roll back. You watch as his blood slides down his arm in a small pebble.

“Fucking hell are you kidding me?! You fucking tease! Please honey, please let me,” you beg, about to grab his wrist but he’s much quicker than you and pulls it away from you in time. You hate his crass behavior and growl, baring your teeth at him in anger. His mouth forms into a pleased smile watching you.

“There’s my girl,” he whispers. Your brows furrow and don’t understand what he’s saying and are about to snap at him but your tongue grazes along your teeth. There you feel your razor-sharp fangs bared and ready to bite. You can’t help but be a little surprised by the feeling of them and look back at Elvis, then back to his arm.

“Focus,” he snaps. “Focus on the bag,” he adds.

You groan and shoot your eyes back at the bag in his hand and try your best to avoid looking at his blood rolling down his arm.

You grab his hand with the bag in it and bring it closer to your face and can pinpoint the smell again.

“Gently, take a bite on the bag. Not too harsh or you’ll make the bag burst open. I don’t want you to spill a drop,” he teases.

You glare at him before looking back down and gently biting the bag. Your fangs are so sharp it didn’t take much pressure to make holes in it and the crimson fluid hit your tongue. You swallow it quickly and feel that burning in your throat reside slowly. It tasted good, not at all the same delectable smell Elvis had, but it would do. You start to squeeze the bag to let the blood flow quicker in your mouth and fill this hunger inside you. You can feel some of it dribble out of your mouth and onto your chin.

Shit. He’s not going to like that.

But you were too hungry to care about the mess you’d make. You suck the last few drops out of the bag and do feel much better. Your throat wasn’t on fire anymore and you didn’t have this unquenchable thirst. But lord, Elvis’ blood still called out to you menacingly.

You carefully take your teeth off the bag and look up at Elvis to see if he’d give you some of his.

“How do you feel baby?” He asks quietly.

“Better,” you say breathlessly, still eyeing his wrist. He looks down at his wrist too and looks back up at you with a glint of mischief in his eye.

“Oh, you think you can have some of this now? Well, you didn’t exactly listen to my instructions,” he quips, motioning to your mouth and your chest.

You look down and see you spilled more than you thought you did. You see a stream of it running down your chest and in between your breasts.

You let out a frustrated sigh, “you’re no fun to make deals with!” You snap.

“Too bad. You’ll learn to not make a mess eventually,” he teases, “as far as this mess, I’ll clean this up,” he says slowly.

He pulls you in by your hips and makes you stand in between his legs. You hiss at his forceful touch, on absolute edge right now with his bleeding arm. He opens your robe slightly and looks up at you with a big grin on his face. In one long swipe, he licks the dribbling blood from your breasts to your chin. His tongue ignites something dangerous inside you and you groan in agony as every part of you feels hyper-sensitive. Your heart pounded away as he did this and made it all feel more erotic than he might have intended. You thought you liked his tongue before but nothing compares to how it feels now. You want so much more of him and it makes you feel insatiable.

He reaches your mouth and puts the most delicate kiss on your lips. You want to collapse in his arms as he grabs onto your hips tighter. You softly tug at his hair, moaning into his mouth, “more,” you whimper.

He pulls away, “Still such a bad, bad girl. I don’t know how I’m going to handle all this newfound neediness,” he taunts.

“Oh I’m sure you have a fucking list of things of how you’ll manage it,” you say annoyed, rolling your eyes at him.

He chuckles softly, “Mhmm, you know me so well.”

•

Tagging: @powerofelvis @burninlovebutler

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @loving-elvis @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith@sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog.@myradiaz@tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18|kpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf@eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything@ohjustpeachy

@elvisalltheway101@austinsmutler@kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11@that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114@raginginkedslut@epthedream69

@mh777ep1938@50sexyshadesfashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presely smut #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis fic #vampire Elvis #70s Elvis #sinned awakening

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tf2heritageposts · 7 months ago

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you can take this as a joke but i'm the actual anon. i thought you were actually posting pro cop stuff and didn't know it was part of the game. i am a poc. i know you don't believe that but the reason i got so upset with you is because of how often my voice and the voice of my friends have been stepped over by white people who claim they care about poc. you're one of my favorite tf2 blogs on tumblr and i really got emotional and just wanted you to acknowledge poc voices because i felt like you were ignoring them. so many of my favorite creators big and small do that. i wish that i knew sooner you were not actually making demo a member of the police. again i don't want to come out with my real blog because i am scared but i am genuinely sorry.

i really don't think your a racist and that your choice of wording only came off as racist because i didnt know that it was the game's wording and not yours. i believe you are a good person and not racist. again, you are not a horrible person and i really don't think anybody who was questioning your choice thinks you are. i just wanted to see genuine acknowledgement of poc voices and overreacted. i'd like to see a more nuanced explanation of your casting more than drunken sideburned man so i can actually understand what you're talking about. again i am really really sorry and didn't even realize i was coming off as harassing you. i got emotional and take responsibility for any stress ive caused you. i dont know how i can make it up to you but im going to donate 10 dollars to your gofundme as an apology because i really did not mean to cause this and thought i was wording things politely. i'd donate more but this is really all i can spare right now. i am autistic and can be too blunt while thinking i am being fine. i hope you reach your funding goals and again i am very sorry.

i’m gonna take this as the actual anon and say i accept your apology. i completely understand why you could interpret it as me making demoman a cop, and i understand why you’d get emotional about it. i promise, i do NOT like cops whatsoever

have a good day anon :]

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copias-girl · 2 years ago

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this absolutely isn’t important, but one of the songs i’ve been listening to on repeat right now has the lyrics “my good looking boy” and i just cannot stop thinking about calling copia strings and strings of endless endearments and compliments and him just absolutely melting. reader carding her hands through his hair and whispering sweet praises into his ear and he just shoves his face further into her chest, tightens his hold on her waist, and breathes in shakily - completely absorbing all of that praise.

GOOD LOOKING BY SUKI WATERHOUSE???

If that’s the song you’re talking about, I’ve literally listened to that SO MUCH while writing tcac!! ♥︎

But omg that’s one of my top daydreams and there’s definitely gonna be a lot of that in tcac later on down the line!! <3

PRAISING COPIA UNDER THE CUT

The poor man is OVERWHELMED. Tears are welling in those beautifully mismatched eyes, dripping down his hot flushed cheeks. He looks like a pathetic little rat, whimpering and moaning and whining because he’s never been told such nice things in his whole entire life. And he never thought he’d be told those things by you.

He trembles when you call him your good looking boy, he shakily exhales when you tell him how good he is for you, his eyes roll back when you call him perfect. He melts into your body, your praise washing over him like a soothing balm and causing his heart to flutter. It’s addictive, intoxicating him and making him feel so dizzy and love-drunk.

And suddenly you’re peeling yourself out of his tight grasp, moving to straddle him and telling him you’re going to kiss all the parts you love about him. His eyes flutter closed when you kiss each painted eyelid, then you kiss his cheeks, the cleft of his chin, his moustache, sideburns, ears. You lavish his pointy nose in so many kisses, running your fingers through his hair as you trail your lips over the lines on his forehead. You tease him by ghosting your lips over the corner of his mouth, and his breath hitches in his throat as you kitten-lick his lips. You then kiss him there countless times, nipping at his lower lip and making him whine, his arms snaking around your waist once more, holding you close. You kiss him ever so deeply, swallowing his moans as the poor old man falls apart for you.

“So good for me, Copia, so good.” You praise your little mouse, earning another pitiful moan while you kiss along his jaw, neck, and collarbone, nuzzling your face into the soft hair on his bare chest before peppering kisses there too. You were determined to kiss every precious freckle on his flesh.

“Mmm you’re so handsome, Copia.” You murmur against his skin. “You’re perfect for me. I’m so lucky to have you. Lucifer has blessed me with you.” You moan, kissing all over his soft tummy.

“N-no, no, I-I am blessed to have you..!” He protests, his cheeks flushed red red red as he tangles his fingers in your hair.

“Shhh.” You hush him, crawling up his body momentarily to give his face another round of kisses. “You’re my sweet, perfect little treasure.” You whisper against his lips, pulling away so you can see the way his eyes well with emotion. Your poor Copia wasn’t used to this sort of attention; all his life he had been insulted, laughed at, and made to feel worthless.

“You’re so pretty, Co-Co.” You kiss his cheekbone, and Copia’s heart skips a beat. “You make me feel so good. You make me cum so hard.” You tell him, causing the poor man to release a desperate moan. He could hardly believe his ears; this must be some sort of a dream.

You capture him in another French kiss, sucking on his sweet tongue for a moment before you continue your crusade down his body. You place hot, open mouthed kisses along his happy trail, noticing the way Copia involuntarily rolls his hips.

He watches with wide eyes as you look up at him through your thick lashes, waiting for your next move. And then he’s letting out a pathetically strangled whine as you place one single kiss on the head of his big throbbing cock; his precum shining on your lips before you lick it off. With a cute smirk on your face, you lay back down on the bed and pull Copia close so he can rest his head on your bare breasts once again, his arms snaking around your waist tightly while he ruts himself against your thigh and whispers “thank you” over and over again into your skin. You run your fingers through his hair, murmuring more hushed praises to your sweet man.

“I love you, pretty boy.” You tell him, causing Copia’s chest to swell as he pulls you in for a searingly, desperately, loving kiss, gasping out a thousand little ‘I love you’s against your lips.

𖤐

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smallestapplin · 2 years ago

Text

Let me handle it.

Alpha Ingo x omega reader

🔞18+Only!MDNI!🔞

Cw : this is an aftercare fic, omegaverse, rut/heat cycles, aftercare for alpha

Summary : your alpha always takes care of you after your heats, so you want to return the favor after his rut hits him hard.

Word count : 1,049

His rut had hit him earlier and harder than he thought.

Ingo is a mess, not recalling much after the first few orgasms, having fucked himself stupid in a matter of moments after getting to you. You always knew how to ease his ruts, without tiring yourself out, and he was forever grateful for that.

Especially now, as he lays back against the bed. Drool slides down from his open mouth, his silver eyes slowly focusing back to reality, and all he sees is you.

You breathlessly chuckle at his weak purring.

He adores you, his lovely mate who’s sat so pretty on top of him, taking his knot so perfectly. He can’t decide where to look, either at your stunning face, or at your stuffed hole where you two connect.

You lean down, laying against his chest to kiss him. Ingo shakily moans against your lips, his hands on your hips tightening as he trembles. Pulling away from him, you coo, trying to soothe him.

“I think you overdid it, my love.” You whisper to him.

Watching him shake like a leaf.

Ingo lazily looks at you, huffing out “Yeah…yeah you’re right…”

He knows you’re right, he can feel his body become so tender, and with the pleasure gone he feels near painful.

You cup his face, stroking his sideburn, smiling as he leans into your touch. He’s so out of it, and so drained form how aggressive his rut was.

It’s still not over, you know he’ll be back up and ready to go in a few hours, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make sure he’s okay. Ingo’s eyes widen before fluttering back, with a silent cry leaving him.

You mumble your apology as you lift off of him, once his knot deflated of course.

Ingo whimpers, weakly trying to grab for your retreating form. You kiss his tears away, cooing softly at him to help calm him down.

“I’ll be right back, I’m not leaving you, Shh shhh it’s okay.”

“Please…”

“I’ll make sure to give you so many kisses, for being such a good mate to me.”

His eyes stay trained to you, looking on the verge of tears as you walk to the bathroom. One the door closes, you sigh, groaning at how stiff your legs feel.

He definitely fucked you good and hard. You try to clean the cum leaking from you as fast and as gently as you could, but he filled you up so much.

You get a few small towels, soaking one of them in warm water and squeezing out the excess.

You head back to the bedroom, and are instantly greeted with a happy Ingo, making grabby hands at you. You can’t help but chuckle at how he looks, looking so small in the nest you made.

“Hello handsome.”

He trembles at your praise, humming contently. More so when you lay the warm wet towel across his clawed and bitten chest, while using the dry towel to carefully clean up all the cum and slick on his thighs and cock.

He doesn’t even flinch, only focusing on you, and the sweet kisses you are pressing against his face.

A perfect distraction.

Once he was cleaned and dried, you stood back up. And he goes right back to pouting.

“Ingo, let me go get you some water.”

“Please-“

“Ingo, you of all people should know safety checks are important, and you need to drink something.”

You wipe away his tears, kissing his forehead.

“I’ll be back to love on you.”

“Please hurry.” He mumbles, watching your ice again retreating form.

As you go to get him things, Ingo lays there, fighting back tears.

He isn’t sure why he’s so emotional all of a sudden, but he just feels so much love it’s overwhelming! He loves you so much, he can’t stop the tears.

“Oh honey…” he perks up at the sound of your voice.

He tries to blink and wipe his tears away, but you just get into the nest with him, and curl around him. Ingo wraps his arms around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent.

“I love you.” You whisper to him, running your fingers through his short silver hair.

He nuzzles against your scent gland, and kisses over the bonding scar.

“I love you too, I’m so happy to be your husband.”

You lay there, holding him close to you as you soothe him. Once he’s done, he sniffles, pulling away from your chest.

“If I may…I’m quite thirsty now.”

You chuckle softly at his rather sheepish tone.

“Well lucky for you, I brought you a cold bottle of water.”

You unscrew the cap, but pull it away when he tries to grab it.

“Honey, I’m not letting you hold this.”

“But I-“

“No, not with how shaky you are, just let me take care of you, okay?”

You see him hesitate, knowing he’s so used to doing all the care taking in his day to day life. You just want to spoil and pamper him, but he has a hard time letting you.

You smile warmly at him, as he relaxes against the bed.

“Okay.”

“Thank you, Ingo.”

You tilt the water bottle to his lips, letting him drink. You have to stifle a laugh when he keeps drinking, not realizing just how thirsty he really was.

“Easy, love.” You carefully pull the now almost empty bottle away.

You place it on the nightstand and curl back up around him, just basking in the moment, basking in his scent and warmth.

Ingo always pampers you, even after sex.

You just want to do the same in return, to show him you love and care for him.

He can be a hardheaded alpha sometimes, especially when it comes to taking care of you and your heat. But as he lays there, snuggled against you, and your legs tangled with his.

He realizes just how much he likes it.

He feels so loved, so protected, so safe.

And to be in the arms of the one he loves the most? He couldn’t ask for anyone better.

He’s already planning the extravagant breakfast he’s going to make you, he will make sure you feel just as loved as he does.

#omegaverse #🔞🔞🔞#smut #spicy #pokemon smut #pokemon x reader smut #pokemon ingo smut #pokemon submas smut #submas smut #submas x reader smut #submas ingo smut #submas ingo x reader smut #pokemon alpha ingo

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calpalsworld · 2 months ago

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1 year on T review:

Disclaimer: I feel like it went really perfectly compared to some other people so don't take me as the only example.

I started on 25 ml per week (pretty low), but they lowered it to 20 ml (low) per week due to my T levels becoming insanely high and my period coming back because of it. I basically microdose T because I'm a freak 🤗

Period:

IT STOPPED

It came back a little once but then they lowered my dose

Emotions:

I didn't notice any change in emotions personally.

Strength:

Idk I might have placebo'd myself into having more strength?

Acne/stink:

It got worse like 2 months in but then went back to how I was pre-T after a few weeks. edit: probably my self maintenance habits catching up with the changes.

Wiener:

T gives you a weewee!!! O_O

It hurt badly around 3-6 months but also I already got a fair amount of pain down there pre-T. This may be a me thing.

Made my comfortability with my self and perception of self way better

Fat:

I look different slightly in a way I really like.

I have more of a chad faceshape now

Gained some body fat in a way that makes my boobs and butt look smaller (I wanted this desperately and I hope maybe in the future I can look like a bear)

Hair:

Disclaimer: I was already hairy pre-T.

Slight mustache / sideburns. Excited for more in the future. I feel like Im gaining this at a normal pace. I have yet to shave anything but I want to shave soon to see what kind of complexion/face texture it would give me.

Hair everywherrreeeeeeeeeeee

Buttcrack hair👿👿👿 (this is my least favorite change) (they dont put this in anti trans ads because its kinda gross but if they were being honest they would)

Voice:

Around 3 months you will sound like you are very very very sick for weeks. I feel like this happens to everyone not just me.

A bit deeper now.

Rumbley/cracky in a way that I really like. I amuse myself with my new voice abilities.

I can't go as high pitched anymore or it cracks.

I miss doing funny baby voices 👿👿👿

How others see me:

Medical professionals have been nice/normal to me

Going on T will not make your parents start gendering you correctly if they aren't already

Some people say they literally genuinely thought I was AMAB (edit: the reason I thought this was crazy is because I don't even bind)

Some people know immediately Im trans and immediately misgender me intentionally

I dont understand how this dichotomy works ^ androgyny achieved?

Cishet "passing" (?!) I like this somewhat so I can chillax.... but also IM NOT CISHET OR BINARY

Doing the shot:

I was never particularly scared of needles, but I was nervous the first time. Despite being a coward, I managed to do it without ever having help. (the doctors didn't show me how LOL and I got impatient waiting for my friend) (ASKING FOR HELP IS GOOD THOUGH!!!)

Used to take like 30 minutes, now takes like 5 minutes.

Idrc anymore

Nothing bad has ever happened except one time there was a bunch of blood which freaked me out.

Thats all my thoughts on T for those who are trying to find information. Feel free to ask me questions ☝🤓

#testosterone #hrt

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grimesapologist · 5 months ago

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youtube

I Have Dreams – Three Days ‘til Christmas (1999) Review

This album shrieks out straight to the soul. The clean guitar that starts the album and that pulses in an out through it licks sublime directly to the heart. My friend told me this album was written by members of New Ethic after the tragic death of their bandmate, and the feeling of ripping and tearing that experience of close death entails runs uninterrupted through the music. The low chugs of the second colour of guitar here have so, so much weight, the other colour, the aforementioned clean, twinkly guitar strings are tugging, resonating with dreamy and delicate melancholy, the melodies paint skylines as the drums rotate like turnstiles. (The album reminds me of Bullets by my Chemical Romance, a comparison which feels strangely like a disservice even though said album is one of the dearest to me.) Three Days’ climaxes for me are not in melodic resonance or song structure, but the stabbing, breaking cracks in the scream where the music feels purest, it hurts to listen to on an almost molecular level, I feel the tears in the screamer’s voice box natively. Energy is there throughout the album, driving, sometimes at a breakneck pace, and through these periods the tears still flow. I’ve listened to this album three times in a row now, not hard given its 15 minute runtime, and those cracked vocals are still unreal to me. The clean vocals sound like emo icons Leiah, tracing familiar emotional resonances but with lyrical content that resists the comparison. Listening to I Have Dreams here I feel the loss, it transmits with efficacy, it hurts and the music makes me hurt for them, but I’m glad this music exists. Blood curdling music equal parts tear jerking prettiness and hard edged tragedy. Sitting here writing the first album review I’ve felt compelled to write, trying to avoid cliches like describing the bittersweetness of this album, and failing, a tear rolls down my cheek and is tossed off my chin into the still air of my bedroom by my banging heard. Fittingly emo, I think.

Extremely good/10

Fav Song: ‘I Don’t Imagine You and I Anymore’ (It reminds me of ‘Get The Kid With The Sideburns’ by Reversal of Man, somehow)

#writing #screamo #i have dreams #music #Youtube

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sonkitty · 2 months ago

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Trickery Post #4 - Looking

I was aware that, as I described The Sideburns Scheme and Earthly Objects as games, they were like games I was playing as a member of the audience.

In around mid-December 2023 is when a season 3 for Good Omens was announced as intending to be six episodes. I was relieved and happy about the news, but it didn't really slow me down or change my play much in these games I was exploring for Good Omens 2.

For the sideburns thing, I want to add that one of the reasons Crowley's sideburns are short in the private room with Aziraphale is that even though they are both supernatural beings, their relationship is very similar to a human partnership.

Something I missed in the previous post for this Trickery series was that while I was working at the earthly objects idea, I had a thought that made me rather said.

On a given day, I was pondering about the sunglasses while making Frito pie in the kitchen. I was wondering about those reflections when he gets in the car because they are moving. I did not really expect to ever have an answer. It certainly seemed to difficult to grasp, whatever it was.

Now the thought that hit me wasn't a new one, but it still hit me quite hard when I had it. Crowley's sunglasses are his door to himself. I had largely picked it up from other people posting about such an idea, but I thought it a worthwhile and fitting one. What really hit me about continuing on with that idea was that the reflections in the sunglasses were like an emotional signal from the story that he has shut that door on another level. The door was closed that much more tightly in his heart break.

And that broke my heart. I cried. Nothing in this story or this game has made me cry harder...okay, maybe one other thing we'll get to later comes close, but that will be a frustration cry. This one was just me being really sad.

I posted about it as part of an update on my main sideburns post on December 16, 2023.

...

While I was in Michigan, besides discovering and clarifying some rules on the Earthly Objects game-like thing, I studied Crowley's sunglasses.

My question was, "Are Crowley's sunglasses an earthly object?" Because I was kind of under the impression from other fan theories, posts, and observations, that they are a door instead. And because thresholds are special in Earthly Objects, doors are special. And if doors are special, that's quite relevant to the theoretical Rule Breaking of the Final Fifteen.

Now, if you're going to ask such a question, possibly switched in the phrasing as, "Are Crowley's sunglasses a door?", do you know how to start finding the answer?

I've never seen anyone else even come close to asking, so I would suspect your answer is No. If your answer is Yes, you've got a big thumbs up from me.

In any case, I do know how to start finding the answer.

The question at hand is, "Do the sunglasses themselves have a threshold?"

Then the next question is..."If those sunglasses do have a threshold, how do you find it?"

The game provides an answer, further suggesting that what we have here is, indeed, a game.

Thresholds are indicated to have a special supernatural element to them, so we want to look for any special supernatural element to the sunglasses.

You find the thresholds of the sunglasses by looking at the times Crowley removes them from his face and has a subtle demonic hiss sound. Remember that post I told you about where somebody on Tumblr had made a compilation of miracle sounds and pointed out that these hisses existed at all? That helped me a lot.

So, I studied those 3 instances. I studied diagrams of sunglasses because I did not know the exact words to describe where Crowley was touching, but he was touching a specific part of the sunglasses. Based on putting those ideas together, I guessed that the end pieces are the thresholds. The thumb tip and consistency of the touches turned out to be quite relevant to determining that was basically a demonic tool, or demon door, if you prefer alliteration.

With Crowley's angry lightning walk in episode 1, the thumb is hidden.

And...it dawned on me. When Crowley is gritting his teeth before shooting out lightning, he is touching the sunglasses with his face. I credited him for a full solo set just for that. I was greatly impressed and entertained. Like, I already love this actor-character combination so much, but this ridiculous game made me love the combination even more.

I suspected Crowley touched the sunglasses with his face again in episode 3 after he tosses the keys to Aziraphale.

I was very uncertain about a potential third touch being when he watched Aziraphale leave for Edinburgh and admitted my skepticism. I had nothing better at the time so logged it as a hesitant possibility.

I was concerned about this idea because faces just plain move as it is when people express themselves. Well, in the first two examples, the word "human" is in the dialogue, and Crowley has short sideburns. He himself has no dialogue, and the camera focuses on his upper body and head. I even checked other scenes that might be similar, and he would do things like a little twitch where only one side of his face maybe perhaps touched the sunglasses but not both.

The third touch was so, so questionable, but he still had the short sideburns, so maybe?

In any case, I had a lot of notes of when the sunglasses were touched and removed from Crowley's face.

I was looking for something about why they are managed the way they are in the Final Fifteen. I had been certain of my claim on Rule Breaking, but I had to admit, his touch on the sunglasses had to matter.

I determined the answer to, "Are Crowley's sunglasses an earthly object?" was sometimes, which surprised me. Their role is dependent on context. They have a Door Mode and Accessory Mode that can be set by what he does with his thumb, especially thumb tips.

I guessed that when Crowley is putting his sunglasses back on in front of Aziraphale, he is touching the thresholds of those already existing thresholds for his own overall sunglasses that are his door.

Around these events with the game idea and sunglasses, I returned from Michigan.

The original draft of this post stated that I had my thoughts about being sad with the sunglasses around this time. Chances are, I was still thinking of it, so that's why I had my times mixed up.

Even so, with the thought in mind, another one occurred to me, probably through that crying that had happened over two weeks earlier.

Something was important about windows. The people Crowley is seeing are the ones to the right of his window, and the reflections are not always there during this part.

See, when I chose the name Earthly Objects for this game-like thing, I chose it because it's in the dialogue, in singular form, and it's clear the story cares about the likes of Heaven, Hell, and Earth. It's a better name for a game than Tangibility Thing or Material Objects. Earthly Objects makes it special and linked to the story of Good Omens or Good Omens 2 itself.

But that's not all this name does.

It broadens the idea of what can be in play.

We don't just physically touch windows here on Earth. In fact, a lot of times we don't use windows for physical touching at all. We use them for looking.

Looking through a window can be an earthly object touch because people look through windows on Earth to see things.

And there is definitely plenty of window usage in the Good Omens 2 story, isn't there?

Nina and Maggie watch Crowley from a window when he shoots out lightning in episode 1. They use the windows in their call for help to those out in the street while Crowley is gone. They interact with Crowley through windows when he fixes the power in episode 1. Mrs. Sandwich sees Muriel from a window. Crowley tells Gabriel about his Operation Lovebirds plan while they both look out a window together. Crowley has a whole big sequence of looking through a window when he makes it rain for Maggie and Nina in episode 3.

The Metatron is assumed to be watching the argument of the Final Fifteen through a window.

So, I worked on windows. I found there was something about blurs and passing and sharing.

Some window looks were simple, but I wasn't interested in those. I wanted to understand the more complex ones for reasons I did not know or only knew subconsciously. I've found my subconscious can and does play ahead of me; it's so weird.

I determined that complex window scenes had three basic steps.

Step 1 is that the looker looks. Maggie gets a really big, notable such look when she sees Crowley smoking because that looks like a blur passing to her, from Nina.

Step 2 is that the window sees. The camera shows what the looker saw, but it also makes sure to include some part of the structure, the window frame itself, so that the audience can figure out that is the looking through a window.

Step 3 is that the looker is then seen clearly behind the window pane with at least some of the window frame visible.

For these steps the "threshold" of the complex looks is when the look is happening and no earthly object by the looker is being visibly physically held and touched.

For the third step, a confusing possible consistency is that the looker does not have to be shown from the front of the window behind the window frame. With both Mrs. Sandwich and Crowley in episode 3, it's more that they are seen from a different angle, but that's where they are. The front view has to do with continual earning of points while "holding" the look.

I determined that the scene with Maggie looking at Crowley when he shoots out lightning was the one most like a tutorial on how these looks work. It is the first time such a thing happens in the story, and it happens after a sideburns tutorial.

In fact, now that I thought about it, that sideburns tutorial is more like a dual tutorial on both the sideburns game and the Earthly Objects game.

And then there was the tempest.

When Crowley makes it rain, the rain itself seems to earn its own 3 points. There are 3 cuts involving the rain dropping into a coffee cup, on a human, and on that human's glasses. Once that part is extracted, and I tried to figure out Crowley's points, I came up with 9. As in, he had 3 solo sets of 3 points. Not only that, the first point that set off the whole thing was Crowley rubbing his hands together in three different ways. I suspected that might even be 3 points itself but dropped that idea given the timing with when the rain earns its 3 points.

We have even more 3s happening!

I was very unsatisfied with my windows post, but I still posted it, probably because sometimes I've found that making the mistakes public help me recognize them better. It's like, knowing someone else could be watching and relying on me makes me want to be more dependable or reliable, so I question harder or better. That, in turn, helps me find the answers better. I don't know why the game works that way for me, but it does. It's honestly really embarrassing...but interesting too.

It is a little like work, in that if I try to explain a problem I'm having to someone, I start to realize the extra things I can do on my own to solve it; I just needed a moment to talk through it with someone.

I corrected the windows post over time and knew I wanted to go over some stuff happening in the ending but just plain needed more time and space to think on it to explain it.

I just vaguely knew it was special and threshold-related like the other things I had found.

I don't remember exactly when in the following process I contacted archangelween, but I did, I was that excited about growing closer to figuring out something with the sunglasses and the windows. They were the only person who had ever reached out to me by a private message for all the work I put into my posts.

Nonetheless, I went off and thought some thoughts. By that, I mean I moved away from my computer, stood up, started pondering, and sat down in front of a blank TV.

For the first threshold thing I mainly found, Crowley touched the door while touching the door.

How do you do that for a window?

You look through a window, while looking through a window.

I could not believe I had an answer after all my posting and thinking, but I did.

Now I had to take that idea of looking through a window over to what actually happens at the end of episode 6.

Other thoughts happening around this time, I think, were a realization that for as much possible Rule Breaking that Crowley and Aziraphale might be doing, other characters were still following the rules, even if they had no dialogue. Muriel is holding a book and waving through a window. Nina waves at Crowley through a window. Even though Maggie is sleeping, her arms are touching the counter.

Something was very different or off about the Metatron and his play. The way I put it was that it was like he was cheating without realizing it or the story would not let him play fully, just partly.

When Crowley gets into his car, the camera work is very, very deliberate at lacking confirmation on his physical touches for things that were not thresholds. We know he is touching things because of his position, and his movement, but we still don't see the physical touches as he starts his car, for instance. I had been thinking that was part of the Rule Breaking to end the story or the game or whatever.

But now I had these window ideas in my thoughts.

I had some pieces.

How do you tell the audience Crowley is looking? Stick two tiny dots of white light in the lenses of his sunglasses.

Crowley's sunglasses don't usually reflect anything, but when they do, the most common type of reflection is light.

...

How do you tell the audience that the window is seeing? For his sunglasses, that would be the moving reflections.

But I was stuck.

Something still didn't quite fit.

I suspected Crowley's touch on the sunglasses before he left the bookshop was relevant to what was happening with this windows thing. But I've got two things answered within the scene itself of how you tell the audience a given thing is happening.

But how do you tell the audience how step 3 is managed?

...

You look at the open car window. Crowley is layered within. Step 3 is effectively cancelled out because there is no window pane on the door to the car, and he was layered within. That's why it was important for me to figure out the blurs pass or share with the other complex window looks. A blur is on that open window during his Step 2 of getting in the car and seeing through the sunglasses.

This factor also gave him a 3-in-1 touch since he had his two lenses and the open window.

I wrote one of my favorite posts I have ever written about Good Omens 2.

I explained my understanding of Crowley's sight.

I acknowledged an uncertainty about some simple window looks he had and what they might have to do with what I cover. I remarked a strange thing that happens is that when he passes the open broken window of the bookshop, most of his body has already passed it.

I remarked that I was not sure what extra meaning the nightingale song could have in what I was going to cover.

And...as I laid out my meaning of speculative "rule breaking", I said we would actually start with the Metatron because the scene is structured to indicate he is looking through a window, but we never see Step 2 (the window sees).

Crowley and Aziraphale do it too when they are in the bookshop. They each look toward the window at some point, and we never see Step 2.

The truly startling thing was that after Aziraphale leaves, Crowley looks at Nina, and then Step 2 is reached but not step 3.

Eventually, I led into the open car window. I admitted uncertainty because the answer itself was actually really hard to reach.

I also pointed out that there was likely some meaning to these looks being reserved for humans.

Another trait of this sequence is that Crowley's movement helps clue an audience player into the looking happening specifically through that open car window. The human reflections disappear at times when turning on the car and turning off the song. The reflections also don't show what's in front of him or at other angles besides some mix of light and darkness that doesn't seem to be anywhere within the car. It might mean or be something special, but I couldn't make it out as anything logically in his line of sight.

I was very proud of myself and pleased with the post.

And now something else clicked.

I have four threshold-related things now that I found since looking into the sideburns. I've got the door to the car, the bigger thresholds, that coffee shop entrance, and now this windows thing.

These things also have a pattern to them. They all have a 1, a 2-in-1, and a 3-in-1.

For the door to the car, Crowley has the watch's touch as a 1, the clothing as a 2-in-1, provided the hand positions allow for it with whatever that pocket thing is, the skin contact as a 3-in-1.

For the bigger thresholds, the pub had two doors, the music shop had one door, and the elevator had three buttons instead of three doors.

For the coffee shop entrance, the 1 was the shoe on the sidewalk, the 2-in-1 was the two thresholds touched on the car, and the 3-in-1 was the three digits on the door panel.

For the windows...well, there was at least a 3-in-1 for the layering with the open car window and sunglasses. At first, I thought things went that looking at Nina's window was a 1, then looking at Maggie's window was a 1, and then the two dots of white light in Crowley's sunglasses were a 2-in-1.

Going through these numbers this way was becoming an annoyance as it made typing and explaining the ideas more difficult, especially with just "1". There had to be a better word or way to say it; I just didn't know what the words were yet.

I knew the phrase "hat trick" is sometimes used in games and involved the number 3 though what games and what plays in particular, I couldn't say. I just knew the phrase existed.

Despite feeling like I lacked certain words I still wanted, it did feel like it was time to make a post about Crowley and thresholds.

These threshold things, I decided, were Threshold Tricks, at least until a better name came along. I was a little hesitant on the phrase, but I still used it.

Parts of the Tricks themselves sometimes did have something resembling extra dimensions. The Door Trick has a 3-in-1 skin contact touch due to the three curled fingers and 2-in-1 clothing touch thanks to the crossed legs.

The Heaven elevator might have extra dimensions because Crowley's got his back against two doors, and he himself has two different appearances.

When I described the bigger thresholds, especially for the pub, I still had some hesitance. The story is a work of deception and hard to read, so I often had this lingering, nagging sense of, "What if I've got this wrong? What if I'm not understanding the clues because they aren't strong enough or clear enough?" At some point, the entire thing can't be lying to you because then what do you have left? So, I just hesitantly built on my solutions because it was feasible to do so. The findings just let me keep going, so I did.

I was having still issues with the sunglasses, but I focused on what I had of the four other threshold things.

I remarked that if you asked me, Crowley should be earning multipliers for these Tricks, "not that the show is ever going to really tell us. I don't expect a manual or a score card."

With further consideration on the windows threshold thing, it took me a few days, I think, to realize I had that wrong. Those two dots of white light were for Nina's and Maggie's windows. Crowley actually gets one such light after he looks at Nina's window and before he looks at Maggie's window. The equivalent of that Trick's "1" was actually a touch Crowley has on the car with his hand between those two looks.

All the same, I had four Threshold Tricks total.

Next time, we're going back to those sunglasses. (For reference: Trickery)

#crowley #david tennant #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens s2 #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #good omens crowley #good omens analysis #good omens 2 trickery

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