(You’re a golden retriever beastman)

Post-Molt. Midnight. His Apartment.

Your phone buzzes. Again.

You, in your hoodie and pajama pants, pick it up with a sigh and a sleepy wag of your tail—subtle, but the wag's there. Usashi knows it. He counts on it.

🐰 Usashi: "I’m molting again. Emergency. Come over. Now. 🐍✨"

You barely manage to text back before you're pulling your shoes on.

When you arrive, he’s already on the couch, sprawled like a siren, sheer silk robe sliding off one pale shoulder. His cheeks are flushed, eyes gleaming molten gold. Little flecks of scale shimmer in the lamplight. The room smells like honey, rain, and something faintly venomous.

“You took forever,” he huffs. “I was suffering. My skin’s peeling weird again and my neck’s itchy.”

You kneel down gently beside him, voice soft, warm, professional. Your tail, though tucked, can’t stop its tiny wag. You start dabbing cream on the delicate skin behind his ears. He goes still. He loves this. You’re so careful. So sweet. A predator being gentle. Just for him.

Then, suddenly, he shifts.

He crawls into your lap. Straddles you. Arms loop around your neck. Gold eyes narrow as he brushes your bangs back and leans in close enough that your nose almost touches his.

“Y’know, most people’d be trembling. Bunny boy in their lap. Molting. Glowing. Practically purring. But you? Just all big eyes and waggy tail. Like I’m cute or something.”

A pause. Then, with a smirk, “What do I gotta do, huh? Bite you?”

You blink, flustered, ears twitching, cheeks heating. You try to stammer something out—he smells like vanilla and ozone and trouble. Your hands hover awkwardly, unsure where to touch now.

He leans in, brushes his nose against yours like a challenge.

“You should stop acting like you’re not thinking about it too.”

And when you blink again, tongue-tied and innocent? He laughs. Not loud—soft, and dangerous.

“Ugh, you’re impossible,” he mutters, curling into your hoodie like it’s a nest.

“Fine. Just… stay like this. I'm itchy. You're warm. And maybe later we can snuggle. Now scratch my butt! I’m molting! I’m itchy and my butt needs attention!”