#no one asked you to do that with a hair tie

[luveline]

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐬

You’re in love with Spencer from the minute he gets you in his bed. [4k]

c: fem/afab. smut mdni, p in v sex, oral, fluff, aftercare, early intense feelings, spencer in sweetheart mode, flirting.

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It’s a cold day in November when you see him across the bar. He’s sitting at a table of friends drinking from a tall glass of coke. He’s normal. Non-imposing, undeniably cute, laughing with a smile that shows his teeth. His tie is to his belt and his suit jacket’s been thrown over the back of the chair. 

He looks like he might have fun with you, if you can catch his attention. Something about him seems… eager to please. 

You watch him, and you watch his friend. He seems more your usual type, muscled, confident. He’s the key. You let your gaze linger on the curly-haired boy until the friend glances your way. You give him a look. Hey, who’s your friend?

You look away once you see an arm rise. There’s elbowing, arguing. You sit relaxed at the bar and twists your straw through cherry spritz, ice cubes tinkling. After a minute you think, Oh, come on. After two you worry you aren’t his type. 

Then comes salvation. The curly haired boy slots between your seat and the next, beckoning the bartender forward with a nearly perfect, “Excuse me?” 

“Right there with you.”

You wait. He seems cute, but you’re not trying to take him home if he doesn’t have the chops for it. And not because you see yourself as some deadly thing to be pleased, but you can’t spend another night fluffing someone else’s feathers. 

“Hey,” he says finally, surprisingly without the nerves you’d read before. He must’ve breathed through them. “How’s it going?” 

You lift your gaze from the dark purple of your spritz. The first thing you notice are the beauty marks you couldn’t see before, along his cheeks and hiding among a light shadow of stubble. “Hi, handsome,” you say softly. You can’t imagine him liking a firm touch, but that might become more apparent later on. “Nothing’s going on, I suppose I was just waiting for you.” 

“Yeah?” he asks. 

“Mm-hm.” 

He puts one arm on the bar. You let your eyes dawdle on his hand. “Are you here alone?” 

“I was with a friend,” you confess, lifting your gaze to his, making steady eye contact for as long as he’ll allow you to. His gaze flits to your mouth as you continue. “But she met somebody. I was told not to wait up.” 

“So you’re in need of company?” 

You tip your head to give him the best glance at you, all eyes and gentle smiles as you nod. “Would that be you?” 

“What are you drinking?” 

“Cherry spritzer.” 

“Can I buy you another one?” 

“Just one, please.” You believe in the overarching reach of sexuality, of being with someone, but you don’t believe in drinking and sex, nor allowing a man to pave the way. “This is my first. If I have more than that I’ll be too tipsy to do what I want tonight.” 

“What’s that?” he asks. 

You tap your nose. The boy —the man— to your delight, seems to like the gesture very much. 

The bartender approaches. Your unknown, lovely looking man asks for a coke and a cherry spritzer, extra cherries, though you didn’t tell him too. He nods to your little plate of cherry stems and asks, “Can you tie a knot?” But before you can answer, he adds, “I’m good at it.” 

Spencer proves to be good at a few things. Kissing, touching, his face in sweet places and his spit-wet thumb to a nerve. One moment you’re sitting at the bar wondering if he’ll take you home and the next you’re taking a taxi, you’re lying in his bed being stripped of your stockings, being laid on top of. You didn’t know he had it in him, this sweaty, adoring kissing in the dark; there’s a difference between kissing for hunger’s sake and kissing with love, and for some strange reason Spencer doesn’t seem to know the difference. 

“Have we met before?” you ask, the ache between your legs sharper than ever as his hand flirts with the boundary of your stomach and the apex of you, begging to go back there and prolong what he’d started. 

“No.” His lips are on your neck, kissing as he slips a finger behind your ear. “I’d remember.”

His chest pushes into yours again, triggering a breathy gasp as the button of your nipple takes the brunt of him. He turns your face, that flirting hand abandoning your wanting cunt to squeeze at your sides, your ribs, the soft hill of your breast. 

“Do you wanna cum again?” he asks softly. The best part is that he’s earnest, not a second of bravado in it as he lays his lips against your cheek. 

You could. He’d done stuff with his mouth you’ve never experienced before, fingertips teasing your wetness as he told you something about tantrics and pleasure, his hand under your knee, holding you open. You’d felt so suddenly out of control and —and honestly, you’d thought yourself half in love with him for the way he was kissing you alone. No shyness, but softness. No rushing, no annoyance when it took you time to tip into pleasure. He’d been delighted when you seized, had sat up to draw the climax out with circles, matching pace to your rising chest. 

You slip a hand into his curls and treat him with the same sweetness he’d given you, kissing him like you love him: for whatever time this is, you really do. He’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever fucked. All it took to meet was a snowstorm and a need to escape the rigid cold. 

“I think you should fuck me now,” you say, scratching his scalp lightly, not so frantic, no more pulling. “Please.”

He kisses you, kisses your jaw, and doesn’t pretend he isn’t eager as he snatches the condom from the dresser. For a while things are giggly and breathless, nervous for a pause, then achingly tight. You stay and Spencer wraps his arms behind you, kissing your neck as you let your leg fall to the side. 

“When did you tell me your name?” you ask, breathless again as his kiss matches his rhythm, slow grinds of his hips, flirting as his hand had been, just a few inches from filling you completely. 

“I don’t remember,” he says through a kiss.

“Spencer.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I just thought I’d try it,” you say, covering your eyes with your hand as his hips flex and he touches that worst part of you over, and over, and over. 

Spencer turns your face to take your hand, slowing to a crawl. He checks your gaze, and sinks into you again. Slow fucking, long kisses, his hands rubbing up the juncture of your neck and down again, then stroking your arms, comfort for a pain you don’t feel. 

“What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly. 

“Just this.” 

“No, but what do you want?” he asks, lips pulled into a smile that didn’t quite make it into a laugh. “What feels best? I can get you there again.” 

So you end up more on your side than your back. He helps you lift a leg over his hip and then he’s back to kissing you senseless. You can’t think of anything but being kissed, being fucked, it doesn’t just feel like an okay pastime with a vaguely handsome guy heightened by a drink, it’s fucking with intent. He curls an arm behind your back to hold you against him and he lets you have everything. 

Something must give you away, a shaking leg, the way you breathe; he knows you’re ready before you do, kissing down your chest as his hand sinks between your hot thighs. Slick or not, he finds where he wants to touch, your eyes filling with heat as he slows. 

He draws it out. The second his lips find your chest you trip into cumming for the second time. You hadn’t realised he was close but you cum and he quickly follows, his nose at your collar. He sounds insane. Beggy, breathy moans, a shade from laughter.

“Can I keep going?” he asks just under your ear. 

You can’t say yes fast enough. He’s kind, ignoring your desperate tone. 

You don’t count the number of times you fuck that night. It’s not clear, really. They aren’t separate occasions. You come down and he’s stroking the skin of your neck as you catch your breath, drawing lines down your arm, murmuring, “You okay?” as you nod and slip a hand behind his back. 

He hugs you like he’s known you for years. When you kiss his blushing chest, kiss downward, he turns breathless. It goes on like that for a while. Afterwards, he situates himself between your legs and lets his weight force your thighs into your abdomen, just enough to feel the pressure, searching kisses pressed to your knee. 

It’s not that you fuck all night, it’s just different than before. And when he encourages you under his sheets to lay behind you, there’s a part of you that wants his hand to stray between your legs again, no matter how tired you are. 

“I’d say sorry for keeping you up, but you sounded like you liked it,” he murmurs in the dark, wrapping a solid arm around your stomach and pulling you tightly to him.

You have no regrets. For perhaps the first time ever, it feels as though all your gasps and teary sighs were adored, and not just smugly kept. “You didn’t notice me falling asleep?” 

He laughs at your teasing, his breath kissing the back of your neck. “When did that happen?” 

“…I don’t want to fall asleep, now.” 

“You don’t have to… I can make you a cup of tea, or…” He draws another line down your arm, ending in a swirl before your elbow. “You could shower.” 

Both sound nice, but no. Your legs are still weak from being held, the ache of a good fuck taking home in your stomach. Truthfully, nothing could make you wanna leave whatever it is he’s doing to you now. The shape of his lips warms your shoulder. 

“That was amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” he says, wrapping you up all over again. He can’t decide how to hold you. You grab his hand and keep it there under your breasts, letting your eyes flutter closed. 

How can he say that? He has this strange way of touching that’s making you feel yards prettier than you usually do, and he’d just fucked you like a dream. You couldn’t manage that sort of pleasure alone. 

“Where have you been hiding?” you whisper, toying with his fingers. Might as well do everything you can while you can. 

“Nowhere.” 

“So where have you been?” 

He takes a breath. “Turn around?”

You begin turning and he takes you like a dance, leaning in slowly to kiss you, until his smoothness gives way to a smile. He pulls back. In the barest lick of light from the window, you can see a blush spreading across his nose. 

“Sorry. I should ask, I shouldn’t just kiss you,” he says, cupping your cheek. 

How might you go about marrying this boy? You decide to play it cool, kissing him until you fall asleep in his arms, your lips still parted for another lazy press of his as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders. 

—

You wake to something new. There isn’t a man against you hinting for a morning tryst, nor an empty bed, a note to let yourself out when you’re ready. There’s a real, gentle hand on your neck. It slides to your shoulder and rubs. 

“You okay?” a voice asks. 

You force your eyes open, blurry vision further occluded by a face. 

His hair is damp. Like he showered a while ago. Spencer’s hand travels to the back of your neck and touches accordingly. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but it’s almost one. I was worried you might be sick.” 

You close your eyes, smiling, better when he scratches the back of your neck with short nails. “I was up late.” 

“I know, I’m  sorry.” 

You wait for him to tell you why you have to leave, any manner of excuse, but nothing comes. 

“So are you? Okay?” he asks gently. 

“I’ll leave soon.” 

“That’s not what I’m trying to say. If you’re not sick, you can go back to sleep.” 

“And just lay in your bed all day,” you murmur, disbelieving. 

“If you wanted to. Or… you can shower, and I can make you something to eat.” His thumb takes to your cheek. One night stand sex can’t be something he does often, or there’s a real possibility that he’s the first man to ever do it right.

His eyes are so much bigger than you realised. “Do you wear glasses?” 

He stammers, embarrassed, “How would you guess that?” 

You raise a hand to his face and draw a short line against his nose. “You have the marks here. Were you reading?” 

“Just while I was waiting for you.” 

“What do you do?” 

“What?” 

“I didn’t ask what you do, I don’t think we managed to ask each other much of anything,” you say, rewarded for your vulnerability with a chest-aching smile, his canine teeth peeking from under his lips. He still looks kissed, lips a shade of sore you’re sure you’d see on yourself in the mirror. 

“I work for the government,” he says, catching your hand to cradle your wrist, “for something called the behavioural analysis unit.” 

“Like, statistics?” 

He lets your hand fall against his chest, a thin grey t-shirt under your knuckles failing to hide the shapes of him, of which you’d explored at length last night. You kissed as much of his chest as you could and it hadn’t felt like enough, Spencer leaner than you’d realised with a stomach on the soft side, easy to kiss relentlessly. 

Your mouth is drying thinking about it. Spencer watches you wordlessly, before saying, “I guess it is like statistics, especially for me. We try to think about serial criminals in terms of their motives. It’s an attempt at math for something not usually quantitative.” 

“And you’re good at it.” 

“I’m good at math, yeah.” 

“Probability of a,” —your breath betrays you, slightly too hopeful as it catches— “morning kiss if I brush my teeth first?” 

His eyes light up. He leans down carefully, and gives you a chaste, firm kiss. 

You forget that you’re naked, not worried about being shy. The sheets fall away from you as you lift up to meet him. He holds them to your naked waist, the other hand skirting just below your breast. You wish he’d touch you like he did last night, but he isn’t so forward. His kiss is kind. You frown as he pulls away. 

“I had a really great time, last night,” he says, tip of his thumb setting your nerves aflame as it drifts over your skin. “Really great.” 

“Me too.” 

“And you’re okay?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Nothing hurts?” he asks. 

“No, of course not.” Your confusion clears. “No, you weren’t like that. I think my legs might be aching but that’ll go away in the shower.” 

“I can run you a bath, if you want. It’s a half bath so you might not be able to stretch out, but it’ll help.” He gives you a smile. The familiarity between you doesn’t want to ebb. 

“Shouldn’t have showered without me,” you say, soft, lest playful be something he doesn’t want on a new day. 

“My hair was greasy. Someone kept touching it.” 

You sit up. Spencer’s hands fall to yours.

It’s hard not to play with someone’s hair when it’s in their face, and when they’re trailing kisses in warm places. He doesn’t blame you really, you can see it in his eyes. 

For a pause, you just sit. 

This is nice. Not being thrown out, left with that aching gap in your chest like you gave something you hadn’t intended when it started. Sex will never be easy again, you realise, not when you know it can be good. 

“You’re not working today, are you?” you ask. 

“No, why?” he asks in turn, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. 

“Maybe we…” He waits. He’s pretty enough to force your hand. “We could get to know each other,” you say, gaze taking refuge on his hands. “If you want to.” 

”Really?” 

“I’ve never had that with someone. Maybe we’re, I don’t know, compatible in more ways than one.” You remember yourself, lifting your head, startled by the sheer want in his expression as he holds your fingers. “You’re handsome, and you seem kind. We could have fun.” 

“We could have so much fun,” he says, that flushed blush already spreading across his nose again. 

You draw a line up his chest. “I might need help getting my back, in the shower. That’s not a tight squeeze, is it?” 

“We might have to stand very close.” 

You giggle wildly as he pulls you up, worse when he drapes a sheet over you worrying about the cold. It’s treatment you could grow used to. 

— 

Spencer’s trying to figure out how he got here. You, across the bar sending him looks —Derek swore you were�� and the second he got to your chair he realised you were out of his league, but he had nothing to lose beside his pride. 

Then there was you, in bed, pulling on his tie murmuring sweet somethings, sweet pleadings, really, taking another kiss as he moved as you asked. 

Then you, the morning after. You’d slept for long enough to scare him, but when you woke you were exactly the girl you’d been the night before, only slower. Ever so slightly bashful. We could get to know each other. 

Spencer’s not sure how he managed it, but you don’t go home. And on Monday you go to work and come back. On Tuesday he meets you outside of your building to take you for dinner, and you come back with him again, another night up in his arms, tangling his hair with enthusiastic fingers. The sex is good, it is, not just ‘cos his past catalogue of lays were with women who wanted casual experiences solely, or those few times with Ethan where it ended too fast and left him useless. You fuck him like you love him. It’s crazy, except he’s acting the same way. 

When you’re not fucking you’re in his lap, or sitting at the coffee table with your face on his thigh driving him crazy, or you’re laying with your feet tucked under him telling him something about you. He is desperate for the details. 

Like, this is it. You’ve pulled your chair as close to his as humanly possible and thrown both legs over his, basically sharing his seat as you laugh around a messy mouthful of Thai noodles. 

“Don’t look, I’m being disgusting–”

“You’re never disgusting, let me–”

He’s heard you pee. He’s kissed you all over. The human aspects of you don’t bother him. 

“Spence, can you–”

“It’s going up your nose–”

“–stop, holy s–”

He pinches your nose clean. “Tada. Kiss now?” 

“You wanna share?” 

“Yes!” 

“No.” You press your hand to your mouth before he can lean in.

He lets you swallow your mouthful. Your ankle is cool in his hand. When people talk about love, it’s about meeting someone, the dates and the phone calls, the big questions. Spencer didn’t know you could do it like this. Every time you go home, you’re asking if you can come back or pestering him to come your way. 

“Can I kiss you now?” he asks imploringly. 

“No, we’re done kissing for a bit. I want another one of those massages.” 

He can’t joke about it or he’ll turn crimson. You enjoyed a polite leg massage, until he got to your thighs, and things got out of hand. 

“No massages.” He taps you under the chin, letting his hand travel wherever it wants over the side of your face. 

“Fine, no massages. Unless you want one?” 

“No, we agreed tonight we’d just– sleep. My boss is onto me.” 

You wink involuntarily as he cups your cheek, his fingers pushed lightly over your eyes.

You aren’t fiends, but finding someone who matches as you do makes it hard to abstain from the fun. Last night was tame, though; he’d made sure you were happy and fallen asleep to grateful neck kisses. Tonight, he won’t say no, but these all-hours affairs have to stop. Derek’s suspicious of him, Hotch has the situation entirely sussed, he's sure, and Spencer’s sixty percent sure Rossi saw you both outside of Quantico tonight kissing against a toll booth.  

Not that it matters. Spencer has a good feeling you’re not a fling. 

“I got you some stuff earlier,” he says. 

You pull his hand from your face and ask, “What stuff?” 

“Like, stuff you need here. I don’t know what you like, but there’s a cleansing balm– are you allergic to chamomile?” You shake your head. “Um, it might be weird, I got you underwear, just ‘cos of the situation yesterday–”

“I liked wearing boxers, they were snug in a certain region is all–”

“–and some shampoo. That sort of stuff. Just so you can stop suffering with mine.” 

“You know what shampoo I use?” 

“I deduced it.” 

“Ah, yes, mister profiler,” you mumble, bending into your knees to hold his face. “If I hadn’t looked you up online I’d think you were a stalker. How can you guess my favourite ice cream flavour when I never told you?”

He smiles shyly. “I just can.”

“Is there anything else you’ve guessed about me?” 

“Every meal with you takes a half hour. You’re easily distracted.”

He laughs as you protest, “You’re distracting! You don’t need to guess that.” 

“You distract me, too.” 

You gather yourself up and stand over him to kiss his nose. “Spencer,” you whisper, your fingers sliding into his hair, “thank you. You don’t have to buy me stuff, I could’ve just gone home.”

“I don’t really want you to.” 

You raise your head to see him eye to eye. “I don't want to either. This is… I like you.” 

He hums, wrapping his arms around you. The hugs are rarer than kisses, but only because you’ve shared so many of the latter in the dark. He’s been thinking of kisses as the extension to fucking, that they’re okay as long as it’s done in bed, but the more time you stay, the more kisses you’ve shared for no reason at all. You kissed his cheek on the train earlier and he felt it like a shock, tipping his chin down to peck you on the lips, your arm curled behind his back as the traincar rattled over a bend. 

“I like you too,” he laughs. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, of course I do.” 

“Not just…” 

“It’s not just the sex,” he says, waving his hand behind your shoulder as you curl into him all over again. It feels amazing. 

“Should we go out, then?” 

“We do.” 

“No, should we date? We could be partners, officially.” 

Spencer can’t take it, scooping you into his lap, though you do sit obligingly on his thigh. He shifts to take the weight. 

“Please, let’s be partners,” he says softly. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t, it’s still soon.” 

“Five days and counting. That’s longer than some marriages, you know.” 

“Maybe we can be, like, tentative boyfriend and girlfriend. If you change your mind, no hard feelings.” 

“And if I don’t?” he asks. 

“Then we get married in Vegas.” 

“You could meet my mom.” 

“I’d love to meet your mom.”

“Do you really wanna be my girlfriend?” he asks. 

“I mean… there’s not such a big difference in dating and what we’re doing, right? This is relationship stuff, we just sort of skipped the awkward first dates.” 

“We did,” he says, failing to hide his grin. 

You stroke his cheek with your nose.

Your attempt at abstinence doesn’t last, but neither party is to blame. You have to celebrate somehow. So you finish your takeout dinner and wash dishes bumping hips. He locks the door for the night and you, giggling, struggle to change his A/C. When he drags you by the sleeve to the bedroom, he doesn’t intend on jumping right into it, and for a while he doesn’t. You lay on top of him between his parted legs and he spends a sluggish hour stroking your hairline, listening to you talk. But his devotion turns to your ear, and he’s kissing behind it, and you’re hitching yourself up his chest soon enough. 

“That cherry spritzer was worth it, huh?” you ask lowly, scratching his jaw as you sit over him.

You really are pretty, amplified by your syrupy smile. 

“I guess that depends what you think. Was I as good at making knots as I promised?” he asks. 

“I can’t remember.” 

“I can remind you?”

“That might be prudent, Dr. Reid.” 

“I never should’ve told you about that,” he murmurs, your lips atop his, ready to be parted. 

“I would’ve found out eventually. I’m gonna find out everything about you, honey.” 

Spencer lets his eyes shutter closed. Me first, he thinks, giving in to another endless kiss. He has the advantage, after all. 

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thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed please consider liking reblogging or leaving a comment/reply it makes my day and I am so grateful<3 

[metranart]

Love-Struck Nanami! Who even when he looks measured and in control is burning inside to have YOUR attention all to himself.

Love-Struck Nanami! Who is gentle and kind but must clench his fists tightly to keep from hitting Gojo for putting his arm around your shoulders.

Love-Struck Nanami! Who jacks himself off furiously every night since you came to the academy as a professor.

Love-Struck Nanami! Who almost came inside his pants when you fixed his tie one random morning. “I like your tie, Nanami-san. It’s so you… yet so opposite.” If only you knew, how intricate his mind is as well.

Love-Struck Nanami! Who takes a deep breath to try to calm down and regain his temper before touching you. It's a superficial wound, you're not in danger but to bandage your shoulder you must take off your shirt and he doesn't know if you'll be safe around him, since his hands won't stop shaking anxiously and excited for the long-awaited skin-to-skin contact.

Love-Struck Nanami! Who was unable to contain himself and kissed you, you shouldn't have reciprocated his audacity. Damn it! You shouldn't have—

Love-Struck Nanami! Who lost the ability to control himself when you showed the slightest interest in him, now pushes you against the empty halls to make out, his hands slide under your skirt to fill themselves with your flesh, the shape of his teeth adorns the curve of your soft and delicate neck.

Love-Struck Nanami! Who makes love to you for the first time like a true gentleman, guides you through multiple orgasms and drops you into a pool of pleasure until you’re moaning and babbling only his name, only to do it again and again, wants you to remember this side of him well since he’s sure you won’t see it that often because of how desperate he is to bend you in every imaginable way the human body can.

Love-Struck Nanami! Who uses his tie to tie your hands, cover your eyes, suffocate you, it’s a fantasy he’s always had since you touched his tie so many months ago. “Are you sure, love?” He asked worriedly, nervous that you’d agree so quickly, “I’m not going to hurt you but I’m not going to be gentle either.” He tried to warn you insistently, but you refused to listen.

Love-Struck Nanami! Who fucks you all night, into the morning and into the next night and barely feels any relief, he's held himself back so much that it would take him all year inside you to even feel his blood slow down.

Love-Struck Nanami! Who showers you with affection only to ram his hips so deliciously violent against yours that you lose consciousness at times.

Love-Struck Nanami! Who in all tenderness rubs your wrists after removing his tie, kisses each patch of skin in your exhausted, trembling body, eats your pussy for HOURS until you're tender and dripping, adores you with proclamations of love that come from the deepest part of his devoted heart.

Love-Struck Nanami! Who holds you tight against him while you sleep, greedily cuddling you while burying his face in your soft hair, the scent of your body helping him sleep, having you safe inside his arms helping him reach some undeserved kind of peace, having you in his life helping him not to give up on the Jujutsu world again.

➡️🔞 Check Nanami's tie bondage NSFW action in HERE

[woso-dreamzzz]

Teenage Dirtbag III

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: You get a job

The mural appears on the building in the middle of the night but it's on the morning news show that moment the sun comes up.

You stubbornly ignore the screen as you stare down at your bowl of cereal, the smallest of smiles on your face as you offer a dry cornflake to little Vince, who takes it and scampers off to eat it at the other end of the table.

"I wish you wouldn't let him up there," Mapi says and you roll your eyes.

"You let Bagheera up here."

"That's different."

"Is it because he's a boy? Is that it?"

Mapi lets out a little bark of laughter for a moment before flicking you in the ear. "I'm worried he's going to fall and hurt himself."

Your kitten peers over the edge of the table after eating his cereal, little legs wiggling in preparation to leap as his half ear flicks happily.

"I think he's survived worse."

Mapi rolls her eyes, plucking Vince off the table and placing him on the floor before she makes her morning coffee.

Ingrid's the one watching the news, her brow furrowed as she listens to the report.

"Well," You say, pushing out and up from the table," I'm going to head to school. I'll see you later."

Ingrid's eyes narrow at your abrupt exit and you don't slow down enough for her to open her mouth.

The path to your school is a familiar one, a fancy private school that Ingrid probably pays an extortionate fee to send you to but is still leagues above the boarding school you used to attend in Norway.

But you've still got a blazer to wear and a shirt and tie - not even one of those clip on ones. It's a proper tie that you've got to tie everyday.

Your skateboard wheels roll over the pavement, earphones thumping with music, as you approach the building. There's a teacher at the gate and they give you a look of disapproval as you come rolling past.

"Hoodie off, Engen," They say," You know the rules."

You roll your eyes as you continue on your way, making a show of stripping off the hoodie you've got on under your blazer just as you make it through the double doors - where it goes straight back on again.

School in Spain isn't really that different to school in Norway apart from the fact that everyone's speaking Spanish.

That's not really difficult either - Spanish that is. You've already got Norwegian and English, and Spanish wasn't really too complex of a language to learn either.

Sure, you've got a bit of an accent and sometimes have to take a moment to think through your grammar but it's nothing that makes it impossible to communicate.

"Off the skateboard, Engen," Another teacher says as you ride down the corridor on your board.

"Will do," You lie through your teeth.

The speed of your skateboard is the only thing keeping you away from the gaggle of girls that follow your every move.

Back at home, Mapi thinks it's hilarious. Ingrid says it's sweet.

You think it's annoying. It's bad enough to appear in the middle of the school year and have everyone automatically know who you are. It's worse when a group of giggling girls try to follow you around all the time. You kind of just want to fade into the background.

"I thought the teacher just asked you to get off that skateboard?"

You roll to a stop in front of one of the prefects.

"I mean...they didn't exactly say when I was meant to get off the skateboard? Just that I should get off it?"

She rolls her eyes, arms crossed over her chest. "You know what they meant."

"Do you ever get tired of being so stuck up?" You ask with a cheeky grin.

"Do you ever get tired of pushing boundaries?"

You shrug. "It's part of my charm."

"Yeah, charm," She scoffs," Let's call it that. You know, I should write you up for dress code. You know you're not meant to wear hoodies to school."

"So I've been told."

"Or trainers."

"They're comfortable."

"Or leave your tie undone."

"I don't like the feeling on my neck."

"And that hairband? Black only."

"What? So I can't wear a red hair tie but you can wear pink ribbons? How's that fair?!"

"So now you're trying to fight with me about it?" She asks, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards," I really should write you up."

Your eyes narrow, nose scrunching up. "You're teasing me."

"What gave it away?"

"I hate you."

"No you don't, Engen. But I do have a note that I was meant to give you during registration. Here, you're excused after lunch. Your sisters are picking you up."

You stare down at the note from the office in your hand as she walks off with her stupid pastel pink hair ribbons.

"Hey! Mapi's not my sister!" You yell after her but she doesn't stop to argue with you about it.

You kind of wish she did.

You shake that thought away though, tucking your skateboard safely under your arm as you make your way over to registration.

School is boring like it always is, even though Ingrid's insisted on them giving you challenging work in the hope of keeping you engaged. She doesn't need to know that you're still skipping classes to hang out in the art rooms with that one eccentric art teacher that can't remember your name but does know the exact brand of spray paint that you love.

You're more than happy to sign yourself out for the day with your hood flipped up as you make your way over to Ingrid's car.

You take a glance back at the building, up to the second floor where that girl is sitting with her stupid pink ribbons, staring bored outside of the History class window.

You know she sees you and you know she sees you put your middle fingers up at her.

"Do you have to do that?" Ingrid asks as you slide into the back seat, slamming the door closed behind you. "You're going to ruin my doors."

"The club will just give you a new car," You say dismissively, plugging your phone into one of Mapi's many chargers. "So...Why am I being let out early?"

"We can't want to do something nice for you?" Ingrid hums, pulling out of the school gates and onto the road.

"Not at lunchtime on a Tuesday," You reply and Mapi snickers in the passenger seat," Don't you guys have training or something?"

"It's almost like you want to be in school," Mapi teases," We can always turn around and drive you back."

"I'm good," You say," But, you know, I haven't eaten yet. Can we grab something first?"

It's hours (and one burger) later that has Ingrid watching you from her passing exercise with Esmee.

Your white school shirt is stained with spray paint and she's ninety percent sure that it's never going to be white again. Your blazer is a heap on the floor and your hoodie sleeves are pushed up to reveal a pastel pink ribbon tied around one of your wrists.

You're totally in the zone though as you adjust your hastily made stencils and step back to review your work.

Ingrid's pretty sure someone could scream your name and you wouldn't even notice, too preoccupied with setting up base layers and a few shapes.

"How it's going?" Mapi asks," It looks..."

Well Mapi can't quite tell how it looks because it's just a bunch of colours and vague shape blobs to her.

"I think I'm going to make the focal point the Champion's League trophy," You say," And then everyone spread out around it."

Mapi tries to picture it but the vague blobs and splashes of colour look just like that to her, no hint of what you can clearly see within it. "Cool," Is all she can say in response.

"It'll look good," You reply," I promise."

"I trust you," Mapi says," I'm just a little sad that I'm clearly not seeing what you're seeing."

"Give it a few days," You promise," And it'll come together."

"I look forward to seeing it," Ingrid says as she approaches.

She's with Mapi, unable to see what you can in the splash of colour and swirls but she's seen enough of your work to know that it all starts off like this.

"Besides," Ingrid says, slipping her hand into yours," Maybe with this to work on, you won't go around tagging random buildings that make it on the news."

"You can't prove that was me," You reply, not taking your eyes off the wall in front of you," They were saying it could be Banksy or someone else trying to make a statement."

"Don't be stupid," You sister says," I can recognise your work anywhere."

[milktiicup]

Could you write a fic where we figure out a way to bring Mr Crawling shopping with us? Maybe he could be put in a wheelchair so his height isn't as scary or suspicious to other humans

a day out!

“Junk food,” you explain. “Not good for you.” “Want junk,” he says immediately, reaching for a bag of neon orange cheese puffs. Your resolve crumbles. “Fine. One junk.” You lean down beside his head. He turns to you, a smile of wonder on his face, and you stress, “One.” His giggle rings down the aisle and he places the chips into the basket. 

Leaving Mr. Crawling at home all day left you wondering- does he need fresh air? Does he want fresh air? If you left your old world in the name of romance just to be left inside all day while your partner goes to work and has extra curricular activities at night time- you’d like to think you’d crave being outside, too. 

It gave you the bright idea- why not take Mr. Crawling grocery shopping?

Of course, your roommate-boyfriend-thing couldn’t really walk outside all willy-nilly if he wanted. And yeah, you already knew that he’s not that noticeable to other people- but he’s still noticeable. He needed a makeover, a new wardrobe, and one thing for certain- a wheelchair! 

You felt bad stealing from the hospital, but what could you do? Pay for one? Those things were expensive! You may be a murderer, you may be a monster, but one thing for certain is- you’re not that much of a thief… You paid for his clothes, obviously. A simple oversized black t-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants. You even decided to treat him to a pair of… black socks. 

You were such a good, kind person. 

“Crawlingggg,” you sang, stepping into your apartment. “I have a gift for you!”

He sits there in the hallway, head tilted and a smile that stretches ear to ear. “Gift? You give object?” 

You wave the shopping bags. “I give object! Give you!”

“Give me?” He giggles, and you’re promptly tackled to the floor in a heap of hair and raggy kimono in a hug. 

You don’t know what you were expecting by giving Mr. Crawling a pair of normal human sized pants, but they fit… for the most part. His entire calves were exposed. He was like a fussy baby when you insisted you had to put the socks on his feet, but with a pout, he let you. Mr. Crawling was quick to look at himself in the mirror, and after you changed out of your work clothes, you were ready to go!#

“Ready?” you ask, gripping the handles of the wheelchair with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm. This was, after all, a brilliant idea. Mr. Crawling finally gets to experience the great outdoors. A small trip, sure, but a big leap in the world of integrating your… unique roommate-boyfriend-thing into normal human life.

He glances down at himself, his oversized shirt sagging a little off one shoulder, his sweatpants cinched tight around his too-thin waist. His hair still moves with its own mind, curling around his arms like curious tendrils. Maybe a hair tie would’ve been a good idea. “Look… human?” he asks, poking the fabric of his shirt.

“Close enough,” you say brightly, patting his shoulder. “And trust me, no one will question it. People don’t actually pay attention to other people in public. It’s one of the few perks of modern society.”

He tilts his head, not understanding a word you just said, but he nods anyway. “You push chair. Fast?”

“No,” you say firmly, cutting that idea off before it even starts. You had to be mature, and fight the urges to make him do wheelies down the street. You were an adult. “We’re going normal speed, like normal people, doing normal grocery shopping. Normal.” You give him a pointed look, and he grins wide.

You manoeuvre him out of the apartment and down the hall, the wheelchair gliding smoothly. His fingers twitch as he grips the armrests. “This… fun,” he murmurs, glancing up at you. “You like push?”

“It’s like pushing a very large, very creepy man,” you mutter, though there’s no real malice in your tone. “But yeah, it’s kind of fun.”

The trip down to the street is uneventful. Nobody spares you a second glance, save for one elderly woman who frowns a little at Mr. Crawling’s hair. Damn… Men can’t have long hair these days, apparently. You quickly steer him away before she can get a closer look, and see the fact he quite literally has no eyeballs.

“Outside,” he whispers in awe as you roll him onto the sidewalk. His fingers tap the armrests excitedly, his head swivelling to take in the towering buildings, the cars, the smoggy sky. “Big.”

“Yeah, welcome to the human world,” you say. “It’s not all bad, though. See those pigeons? They’re kind of cute, right?”

He stares at the birds for a long moment, then tilts his head. “Consume?”

“No!” you hiss, your voice a little louder than intended. A couple walking past gives you a strange look, but you wave them off. “We do not eat the pigeons. We buy food from inside the store. That’s the whole point of this trip, remember?”

Mr. Crawling frowns, but his smile returns as fast as it left. “I understand!”

“Good. Great. Let’s go.”

The grocery store is just a few blocks away, and you’re relieved when the automatic doors slide open. The bright fluorescent lights and neatly stacked shelves feel almost comforting in their mundanity. It’s a sense of normalcy that you… kind of, but only kind of have at home. Your roommate-boyfriend-thing is a monster from another realm. 

Mr. Crawling, on the other hand, looks like a kid in a candy store. “Many object…” he murmurs, his head swivelling in every direction. “Human eat this?”

“Yeah,” you say, grabbing a basket. “You’re about to see how humans stock up for the week. Ready?”

He nods, his grin widening. You just hope the poor cashier is ready for whatever this trip is about to become. You let Mr. Crawling hold the shopping basket in his lap, and push him down the first aisle. 

You knew Mr. Crawling wasn’t dumb by any means. He’s smart enough to pick up things from the TV, understands a majority of the stuff you say in your own language, but you’d never imagine that the day would come that you had to explain what broccoli was to him. 

“What this?”

“Little tree. You know tree?”

“Know tree… Little tree… Healthy?”

“Healthy. If you cook it.”

“Cook little tree…” 

You’ve mystified him. 

Your next aisle - the snack aisle - has Mr. Crawling enamoured. “What this?” he asks, picking up colourful chip bag after chip bag. If he had eyes, you knew he would be eyeing up those boxes of cookies like no tomorrow. 

“Junk food,” you explain. “Not good for you.”

“Want junk,” he says immediately, reaching for a bag of neon orange cheese puffs.

Your resolve crumbles. “Fine. One junk.” You lean down beside his head. He turns to you, a smile of wonder on his face, and you stress, “One.” His giggle rings down the aisle and he places the chips into the basket. 

By the time you reach the checkout, the basket is loaded with a mix of essentials and Mr. Crawling’s curious additions- things like canned soup, frozen potato waffles, and a box of pudding cups that he grabbed without even asking. And of course, the box of cookies that you knew he would eye up eventually. 

The cashier barely glances at the two of you, though she does raise an eyebrow at Mr. Crawling’s hair. You pay quickly, and wheel him outside with your bags of groceries in tow.

As you head back home, he turns to you, clutching the bag of cheese puffs in his lap. “Shopping fun,” he declares, beaming. “Human smart.”

“Yeah, well, let’s see if you feel the same after cooking some of this stuff,” you reply, shaking your head with a smile. “Ready for that adventure next?”

He nods, munching a cheese puff as if it’s the greatest thing he’s ever tasted. “Cook tiny tree.”

You laugh. “Okay, Crawling. We can cook the broccoli together.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Bradford Has a Princess

I used one of the amazing Tim Bradford ideas posted by @nevereclipse for this!! I hope you like it and it's along the lines of what you were thinking!☺️

Pairing: Tim Bradford x younger(24-26y/o)!fem!reader

Summary: Tim Bradford is whipped for you, treats you with nothing but the best princess treatment, and when his fellow officers call him out on it, he realizes how he truly feels about you.

Warnings: fluff! princess treatment and Tim being a SOFTIE™

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

You blow your hair out of your face before you tug it painfully behind your ear.

“Easy,” your boyfriend mutters, reaching over carefully. He gathers your hair much gentler than you had, pulls it loosely behind your ears, and uses the hair tie he wears around his wrist to secure it. “Better?”

You hum before you say, “Thank you, Tim.”

His hand moves down your back, resting comfortably against the base. After you finish your project, you take a paper towel from the nearby roll and wipe your hands.

“Need anything else?” Tim asks.

You smile over your shoulder as you rest against Tim’s chest. He’s older than you, and though some people might frown upon your relationship, you love him, not only because of the selfless way he treats you. Tim places his arm around your shoulders, then uses his free hand to pull your hand closer to him. He traces his thumb over your knuckles, then looks at your nails as his calloused palm holds you like you are the most precious thing in his life, in the world.

“I can make you an appointment at the nail salon you like,” he offers. “Tuesday?”

Tim shifts his hands, running his fingertips up and down your palm as he smiles.

“I can wait,” you answer. “I actually saw a kit online that lets you make your own nail art. Maybe I should try that next time.”

“Send me the link.”

Tim kisses your temple, then twirls the ends of your hair around his fingers. He decides he could spend forever here and wouldn’t even care what his friends thought about it.

“Tim!” Angela calls. “We’re all going to Andre’s.”

“Actually,” he begins.

“No, you skipped out the last three times, you’re coming with.”

“No arguments,” Nyla adds. “We might even make you pay.”

Tim sighs, his shoulders dropping as he nods. He follows them out of the station and is unsurprised to see Lucy, Nolan, Aaron, and Wesley waiting in the parking lot.

“Tim, you’re coming too?” Wesley asks. “I thought you’d finally sworn off fraternization.”

“Ha ha,” Tim deadpans.

“Can I ride with you?” Aaron asks. “My car’s getting a new wrap and Wesley’s backseat is a little tight with the carseats.”

Tim doesn’t answer but doesn’t say no, so Lucy nods and encourages Aaron to go. Aaron climbs into Tim’s passenger seat and buckles his seatbelt without a word.

“Oh,” he exclaims as Tim backs out of the space. “Who’s the Dior lip gloss belong to?” He lifts the tube out of the floorboard and recognizes it as part of a set his mom has. “This is expensive, they must be missing it.”

“She knows it’s here,” Tim grumbles, extending his hand to take it.

“Your sister?” Aaron guesses as Tim places it in the center console. He sees several other items, like a scrunchie, a receipt, and powder.

“None of your business,” Tim snaps. “Why are you getting an expensive car wrapped, anyway?”

“Because I can.”

Tim and Aaron fall silent, Tim thinking about you as Aaron wonders if the others know about the woman taking up space in Tim Bradford’s truck and in his life.

During your next date night, Tim opens the door for you, then wraps his arm around your waist as you enter the restaurant. He moves to his left to stand slightly behind you as you wait to be seated, and you smile over your shoulder at him.

At your table, Tim pulls your chair out for you, but you stop before you sit when someone says his name. You turn, and Tim’s shoulders tense beneath his blazer.

“Angela,” he greets tightly. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on a date,” she answers with a smile. She looks at you before she asks, “And you?”

You sense the tension and interrupt to introduce yourself. You provide your name and shake her hand, then look to Tim.

“My girlfriend,” he tells Angela. “We’re on a date, so…”

“I’ll ask more later then. I mean that Timothy, you have a lot to tell me.” She turns toward you again and says, “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

Alone, you take Tim’s hand across the table and apologize for interrupting him and his friend. He promises that he wasn’t bothered by that and assures you that he wasn’t avoiding introducing you on purpose but was just surprised. You fall into easy conversation, as usual, and the date is over far too soon.

When the waiter leaves the check on the corner of the table, you ask, “Going Dutch?”

“Going insane if you think I’m letting you pay for a date,” Tim mumbles before speaking up to say, “My treat.”

Tim offers his blazer before you walk out into the windy Los Angeles night, and you wrap your hands around his arm as he leads you to his truck. You’ve never felt as loved and as cherished as you do with Tim Bradford.

As you enter Tim’s house, he uses your joined hands to pull you back toward him. He dips his chin, gesturing for you to sit on the couch, then lowers to the table before it. With a gentle touch, Tim runs his hands down your leg, from your knee to your ankle. After he hooks his finger under the strap of your heel, he pulls your foot up, resting your calf on his knee to unhook the small buckle against your ankle and remove your shoe. He repeats the process with the other shoe, then lays his hands on your knees and leans forward.

“Hi,” you whisper with a smile.

Tim smiles in the proximity, then runs his hands up your legs to rest on your thighs.

“I love you,” you add.

“I love you,” he replies before he moves beside you on the couch, cups the back of your neck in his hand, and pulls into a kiss that proves it.

Tim stops mid-step as he enters the roll call room the following morning. Angela and Aaron are perched atop the tables to watch him with matching looks.

“What?” Tim asks.

“You have a girlfriend,” Angela says.

“That I’m thinking you bought Dior for,” Aaron adds.

“Who are you and what did you do with Timothy Bradford?”

“Yes, I have a girlfriend, and I bought her some makeup,” Tim admits. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal?” Aaron repeats incredulously. “You, Tim Bradford, are whipped.”

“He took her to an expensive restaurant last night,” Angela tells Aaron without looking away from Tim. “I bet he footed the bill, too.”

“There is no reason to be discussing this at work,” Tim points out. “So, drop it.”

“Drop what?” Lucy asks from the doorway.

One word, Tim mouths to Aaron. Aaron nods, but Angela smiles. Tim knows he has no power over her, but when she changes the subject, he sighs and nods once. She’ll bring it up again when he least expects it, but for now, the ‘news’ of his ‘being whipped’ for you is contained. He isn’t ashamed of you, of course, but some things need to be private.

Immediately after walking into Tim’s house, he kisses you so hard that you can feel the sticky texture of your lip gloss as it smears from the corners of your lips and onto your chin. When he pulls back, holding you up as you blink at him, breathless, he uses his thumb to wipe away the shiny mess he made.

“I missed you too,” you say.

“I was told today that I’m whipped,” Tim replies.

You furrow your brows, and Tim taps his knuckle against your forehead and smiles as he shakes his head. You relax but hold his side as you wait for more information.

“Aaron and Angela know about you, and he told me I was whipped. I realized that he’s right.”

Terrified that Tim is about to break up with you after this realization, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. He huffs and tugs it free.

“I am more in love with you than I ever dreamed of being capable of. So…”

Tim is clearly trying to find the right words, and you smile as you offer, “Incandescently happy?”

“Completely and incandescently happy,” he agrees. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tim smiles, then notices he disturbed your outfit with his sudden affection. He tugs the ridden-up fabric down over your hips before dragging his fingertips along your upper arm to fix your top.

“Remember when you bought me the makeup wipes?” you ask.

Tim nods and inquires, “Do you need them?”

You try to contain your smile but fail. “No, you just proved you can take off lip gloss without them.”

Tim tugs you closer, hooks his arms under your hips, and lifts you up. You gasp in surprise before gripping his shoulders. After he carries you to the kitchen and sets you on the counter, he takes your shoes off and stands between your legs.

“Should I make dinner or are you going to keep distracting me?”

You tap your finger against your jaw and pretend to ponder the question. “That depends… will your friends still be okay with this relationship when they find out you’re a cradle robber?”

“Maybe I should give you back then.”

You pout, and Tim kisses your forehead before he turns away. He passes you a bouquet of red roses, then sets a glass of your favorite beverage beside you. It’s the response you hoped for, and after you gently place the flowers aside, you pull Tim closer by his collar and smile against his lips.

[4linos]

asking skz to tie a ribbon around their bicep

ot8 stray kids x gn!reader

request: Asking the ot8 boys to tie a ribbon around their biceps

wc: 4172 (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

a/n: not proofread 🙂‍↔️.

bang chan

You were at the gym, watching Chan move through his usual routine. His biceps were flexing with each rep, and you couldn't help but appreciate the effort he put into his workout. Your eyes kept drifting back to his muscles, and an idea popped into your head—a mischievous one.

You walked up to him after he finished his set, smiling innocently. “Hey, babe, could you do something for me?”

Chan looked up, wiping the sweat from his forehead, his face already breaking into a smile at the sight of you. “Sure, anything. What’s up?”

You leaned in slightly, “Could you tie a ribbon around your bicep for me? Just for fun.”

Chan blinked at you in surprise, then chuckled. “A ribbon? Around my bicep?”

You nodded, your grin widening. “Yeah, just for me. I think it’d look cute. Please?”

He let out a laugh, shaking his head in amusement, but the smirk on his face said it all—he wasn’t going to say no. “You’re a weirdo, but alright. You’ve got me wrapped around your finger.”

He put the little, decorative ribbon you brought with you around his bicep, making sure it was snug but not too tight. The cheeky sparkle in his eyes caused you to laugh out loud when he turned to face you once more. "You think this is cute enough?" Chan asked, flaunting the ribbon and flexing his arm. "Perfect," you replied, smiling softly as you reached out to gently adjust it. "Everything looks good because of you." He leaned forward and kissed your forehead as his smile softened. "I'll wear a ribbon every day as long as it brings you joy."

You laughed, grateful for how far he’d go to indulge your silly requests.

lee know

On a relaxing afternoon, you and Minho were relaxing at home while you sat cross-legged on the couch and browsed through your phone to the soothing sounds of some music. Minho was at ease as he laid beside you with his arm slung across the back of the couch. You gave him a quick glance as a lighthearted thought occurred to you. You had always liked his biceps, but today you wanted to see them in a completely new way—in a cutesy yet ridiculous way. You quickly placed your phone down and smiled as you turned to face him.

With a hint of mischief in your tone, you said, "Hey, can you do me a favor?" Minho arched an eyebrow, obviously interested but unsure of the direction of this. "What is it?" Reaching over, you placed a little, colorful ribbon you had previously picked up on the side table. It was the perfect size and a gentle pastel tint. Your smile grew as you extended it to him. "Could you tie this around your bicep for me?" Minho looked at you for a time, blinking, as though he was trying to tell if you were kidding. "A ribbon? "Around my arm?" he asked, appearing both genuinely perplexed and amused by the request.

"Yeah," you said, giggling a little. "I think it'd look cute. Just for fun. Please?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "You're so random." But his smile grew, and he took the ribbon from you, clearly willing to indulge you. As he looped it around his bicep, you couldn't help but watch as his muscles flexed slightly under the motion, making your heart skip a beat.

Once it was tied, Minho looked at you, flexing his arm with a smirk. “Happy now?”

You leaned forward, pretending to inspect it, your finger gently adjusting the bow. "Absolutely. You look... ridiculously good. Like a gift wrapped just for me."

He rolled his eyes, clearly entertained. "You're weird," he said with a smile, but you could see the fondness in his eyes.

"You know you love it," you teased, reaching over to give his arm a playful squeeze, feeling the strength beneath your fingers.

Minho smiled, his hand coming up to ruffle your hair. “I really do,” he said, clearly amused by how something so simple could make you so happy.

"Good," you said, resting your head on his shoulder. "You’re the best, Min. Thanks for letting me make you a walking present."

He laughed, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close.

changbin

It was a quiet night at home, and you and Changbin were spending time on the couch while the soft glow of the living room lights created a cozy atmosphere. He was leaning back, his muscles flexing slightly with each movement, while you were snuggled up next to him, your head resting on his shoulder, lazily scrolling through your phone. His biceps, which are well-defined and strong because of the amount of work he puts into his workouts, caught your eye as you looked at him absently. You admired his muscularity, but you couldn't get a silly idea out of your head today.

You turned to him, a mischievous smile slowly spreading across your face. "Hey, Bin," you said, glancing up from your phone.

He looked down at you with an amused expression. "What’s up?"

You hesitated for just a second, then pulled a small ribbon from your pocket, its soft pastel color standing out against the more neutral tones of the room. "Can you do me a favor?"

Changbin raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the sudden request. “What kind of favor?”

You held the ribbon out toward him with a teasing grin. “Could you tie this around your bicep for me? Just for fun. I think it’ll look cute.”

He blinked at you, clearly taken aback. “A ribbon? Around my bicep?” His voice was a mix of confusion and amusement, though you could already tell he wasn’t going to say no.

You nodded, your smile widening. “Yeah, I think it’ll look cute. Just once, please?”

Changbin let out a small laugh, shaking his head at your quirky request but not even hesitating to take the ribbon from your hand. “You’re unbelievable,” he said, but there was a hint of playfulness in his voice. “But okay, for you.”

He gently wrapped the ribbon around his bicep, the contrast of the soft fabric against his muscular arm making your heart race. You couldn’t help but admire how even something so simple looked so good on him. Once it was secured, he flexed his arm slightly, looking down at it with a smirk.

"Well?" Changbin asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "How do I look?"

You bit your lip, trying to contain your excitement. “You look... ridiculously good,” you said, your voice dripping with affection. “Like some kind of strong, tough guy, but also a little bit of a sweetheart with a ribbon around your arm.”

At your lighthearted remark, he shook his head and laughed. With the ribbon still precisely positioned on his arm, he drew you close to him and added, "I'm glad I can make you happy." You were happy with the small moment as you leaned toward him and put your head against his chest. You smiled to yourself and whispered, "You always do." "You're perfect." Changbin laughed quietly and kissed your forehead.

hyunjin

It was a sunny afternoon, and you and Hyunjin were strolling through a small outdoor market, taking in the sights and smells of the various stalls. You were looking at the colorful displays, the light breeze adding to the pleasant atmosphere. Hyunjin walked beside you, his relaxed stride matching the laid-back vibe of the day, his sleeves rolled up casually, showing off his sculpted arms.

You were walking past a stand with fabric and ribbons when you noticed one that stood out as especially delicate—it was a gentle pastel pink. Before you could stop yourself, you turned to Hyunjin and smiled nonchalantly as an idea struck you. You said, "Hey, Hyun," as you gazed up at him with a playful twinkle in your eyes. He looked down at you, looking at you with interest. "Yeah?" While holding out the ribbon, you said, "Can you do me a favor?"

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "What kind of favor?"

With a teasing smile, you held the ribbon out toward him. "Could you tie this around your bicep? Just for fun," you said, your voice light and playful.

Hyunjin stopped walking for a moment, blinking at you in surprise. "A ribbon? Around my arm?" He chuckled softly, clearly amused by the randomness of the request. "Are you serious?"

You nodded enthusiastically, unable to contain your excitement. "Yep! I think it'd look cute. Come on, please?"

Hyunjin stopped for a moment, then shook his head while continuing to laugh. He said, "You’re really something," but his smile made it clear he wasn't going to turn you down. Taking the ribbon from your hand, he easily tied it around his bicep, his biceps rippling slightly as you both walked ahead. He arched an eyebrow at you as he straightened up and flexed his arm after tying it. With a teasing grin tugging at his lips, he asked, "How do I look?"

When you saw him with the delicate ribbon against his muscular arm, you couldn't help but giggle. Your heart skipped a beat at how incredibly good he looked. "You look... like a model who’s ready to break hearts and steal ribbons," you taunted. Clearly pleased with himself, Hyunjin grinned. "Well, I'm glad you think so," he added, emphasizing with his arm still flexed. "Anything for you, I guess." You bent over and kissed him on the cheek. You muttered, "You're the best," appreciating how he always gave in to your silly requests.

HAN

It was a breezy afternoon, and you and Jisung were taking a stroll through a local park, enjoying the calm atmosphere. The trees were swaying gently in the wind, and the sun was just starting to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. You walked side by side, hands brushing occasionally, the sound of your footsteps mixing with the peaceful background noise of nature.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but glance over at him. Jisung had rolled up his sleeves earlier, revealing his toned biceps. Every time he moved, you couldn’t help but admire how strong he looked, his muscles subtly flexing.

An idea popped into your head, and a playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You decided to have a little fun.

"Hey, Ji," you said, turning to him with a teasing grin.

He glanced over at you with that signature cocky smirk of his. "What? What’s that look for?" he asked, already sensing that something mischievous was coming.

You pulled a soft, pastel ribbon out of your bag that you’d picked up earlier, holding it up with a playful sparkle in your eyes. "Can you tie this around your bicep?" you asked casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Jisung blinked for a moment, his eyebrows lifting in surprise, before a cocky grin spread across his face. "A ribbon? Around my bicep?" he repeated, clearly amused. "What, you think I need a little decoration to match my muscles or something?"

Without even attempting to conceal your laughter, you burst out laughing. "Well, you know," you replied, "It’s just that I think you'd look even more... impressive with it." Jisung laughed, obviously taking pleasure in your flirty banter. "Oh, so I’m already impressive, but a ribbon is just the finishing touch?" His voice was overflowing with confidence as he flexed his arm, obviously playing up the situation. "Alright, I will. For you.” Taking the ribbon from your hand, he wrapped it around his bicep and secured it with a little, exaggerated arm flex. He moved slowly and deliberately, obviously relishing the attention he was receiving. He gave you a dramatic flex after finishing, lifting his arm a little.

With a smug look on his face, he asked, "How’s this?" "Looking good, right?" You chuckle quietly as you admire how self-assured he was about it. "Really?” You shook your head in pleased amazement and replied, "You look ridiculous... but also ridiculously good." "You could wear anything and still manage to look perfect." Jisung leaned in a little, obviously enjoying your compliment. "Of course," he answered, grinning even broadly. "I mean, I always look this good, but if a ribbon makes you smile, I’m all in."

You smiled, reaching up to adjust the ribbon playfully. "You really are full of yourself, huh?"

"Only because I know you like it," he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. You laughed, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "I’m definitely not complaining," you said, feeling the warmth of his confidence mixed with your affection for him.

As you continued your walk together, you couldn’t help but smile at how he always knew how to make you laugh—and how, no matter the request, he would always turn it into something fun.

felix

It was a cozy evening at home, and you and Felix were in the middle of a movie marathon. The soft glow of the fairy lights you’d strung up earlier added to the intimate vibe of the night, and a bowl of popcorn sat between you on the couch. You were curled up beside him, feeling completely content as you both laughed at the random jokes and cheesy moments of the movie.

Felix, who was in a comfortable oversized hoodie and sweatpants, absentmindedly tugged his hoodie off, showing off his lean arms as he adjusted himself on the couch. You couldn't help but notice how good he looked, even in something so simple.

Then, your eyes landed on a cute ribbon you had left on the coffee table. You remembered you had bought it earlier and thought it would be fun to incorporate it into your night somehow. A mischievous idea crept into your mind.

“Hey, Lix,” you said, pausing the movie with a sly grin.

He turned his head toward you with a curious expression. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice full of warmth.

You picked up the ribbon and held it up in front of him, the light catching its soft, pastel color. “Can you do me a favor?” you asked, your tone playful.

Felix blinked and tilted his head, clearly intrigued. “What kind of favor?”

You bit your lip, trying to keep your giggles in check. “Could you tie this around your bicep? I think it’ll look really cute on you.”

Felix's eyes immediately lit up, his face breaking into an excited grin. “Wait… really?” he said, his voice practically bubbling with enthusiasm. “I’ve seen people doing this lately, and I’ve been wanting to try it! Yes! Let’s do it!”

You burst out laughing at his excitement. “I had no idea you’d be so into it.”

Felix practically bounced off the couch in excitement, reaching for the ribbon before you even finished speaking. "I’ve got to do it right, though," he said, his expression full of determination as he wrapped the ribbon carefully around his bicep, making sure it was tied perfectly. He flexed his arm as he finished, clearly pleased with the result.

He turned toward you with a proud smirk. "How’s this? Am I pulling it off?" he asked, his voice full of playful confidence.

You smiled, completely amused by how eager he was. “You look amazing,” you said, laughing. "Honestly, you’re probably the best person to wear a ribbon. It looks like you were born for it."

Felix struck a dramatic pose, flexing his arm again as if he were on a runway. “I knew it,” he said, a cocky grin on his face. “I’m a trendsetter. Always ahead of the curve.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, reaching over to adjust the ribbon slightly. “You’re so extra,” you teased, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “But you really do look good.”

Felix smiled widely, his eyes softening as he pulled you closer. You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling warm and content. “Best decision I made today,” you whispered, your heart swelling with affection for him as the movie continued to play in the background. Felix, with his ribbon and his smile, was all you needed in that moment.

seungmin

It was a quiet afternoon in the park. The weather was perfect—cool with a gentle breeze, and the soft sounds of children playing and birds chirping filled the air. You and Seungmin were sitting on a bench near a pond, enjoying the calm atmosphere. He had brought along a book, but you had found yourself distracted, leaning back and soaking in the peaceful scene around you.

As you sat beside him, your fingers absentmindedly ran through the small bag you’d brought along. That was when you noticed it—a soft, pastel ribbon you’d picked up from a craft shop earlier that week. A soft smile crept onto your face as an idea formed.

You glanced over at Seungmin, who was still quietly reading. His biceps were subtly flexing under his fitted T-shirt, and the thought of adding a cute, little accessory to them suddenly seemed like the perfect idea.

“Seung,” you began, your voice light and teasing, “can you do me a favor?”

He looked up from his book, his expression one of mild curiosity. “Hmm? What is it?” His tone was relaxed, not expecting anything unusual.

You held up the ribbon in front of him, trying to hide your excitement. “Can you tie this around your bicep?” you asked, your voice playful. “I think it’ll look cute on you.”

Seungmin blinked, clearly caught off guard. He stared at the ribbon for a moment, then looked back at you, slightly confused. “A ribbon? Around my arm?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice. “Why would I do that?”

You pouted, trying to hide your disappointment. “I just think it would be fun,” you said, a little quieter now. “You’d look cute.”

Seungmin frowned slightly, not quite sold on the idea. “It just seems... kind of silly,” he muttered, glancing at the ribbon again. “I don’t know if I want to do that.”

The playful energy you had a moment ago quickly shifted. You felt a little disappointed, even though you knew it wasn’t a big deal. You had just hoped it would be a fun moment to share, but now Seungmin seemed unsure, and you couldn’t help but feel a little deflated.

Noticing the change in your mood, Seungmin's expression softened, his gaze flicking back to you. He realized he might have come off a little too harsh, and seeing the slight sadness in your eyes, he quickly sighed, setting his book aside.

“Okay, okay,” he said, giving you a small but warm smile. “I’ll do it, but don’t expect me to wear it for long, alright?”

You perked up instantly, your smile returning. “Really?” you asked, your tone filled with excitement. “Thank you, babe!”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the small smile on his face. “I don’t get why you like these kinds of silly things, but…” He grabbed the ribbon from your hand and wrapped it around his bicep with exaggerated care, making sure it was tied just right.

Once it was secure, he flexed his arm just a little, showing off the ribbon in a way that almost made you laugh. “How’s that?” he asked, his voice a mix of amusement and slight embarrassment. "You happy now?"

You couldn't stop smiling. He might have been reluctant at first, but he still looked amazing with the ribbon on his arm. “You look great,” you said with a grin, reaching out to gently adjust the ribbon. “I told you, it’s cute.”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow but couldn't suppress a laugh. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered, shaking his head. “But if it makes you happy, I guess I’ll wear it for a little while.”

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It makes me very happy,” you said softly, your voice warm with affection. “Thank you for indulging me.” He chuckled, clearly feeling a little more at ease. As you sat together, the ribbon still around his bicep, you felt the warmth of the moment. It wasn’t just about the silly request—it was the way Seungmin always cared enough to make you happy, even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone for a moment. And that made the simple gesture so much more special.

I.N

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon, and you and Jeongin were relaxing at his place. You were lounging on the couch, enjoying the quiet, while he had been fiddling around with his phone. The windows were open, letting in the soft breeze, and the world outside seemed to slow down as you two enjoyed the calm.

You were absentmindedly scrolling through your own phone when your eyes fell on the small ribbon you’d brought with you. It was a simple, pastel blue, just the right size to fit around a bicep. A playful idea crossed your mind, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Hey, babe," you said, glancing up at him, a teasing grin on your face.

He lowered his phone and looked at you, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? What’s up?” he asked, clearly curious.

You held the ribbon out between your fingers. "Can you tie this around your bicep?" you asked, your tone light and playful. "I think it’ll look cute on you."

Jeongin’s eyes lit up immediately, and a cocky grin spread across his face. He leaned back on the couch, puffing out his chest a little. "A ribbon?" he repeated, clearly liking the attention. "You want me to wear a ribbon around my bicep?"

You nodded, trying to keep your grin in check. "Yep, exactly that. I think it'd be cute, and I wanna see it on you."

He let out a small laugh, the kind that hinted he was already feeling a little too proud of himself. "Oh, so you want me to show off these bad boys, huh?" he said, flexing his biceps a little and making them bulge impressively. "I mean, I have been hitting the gym with the guys a lot lately. All those extra sets are finally paying off."

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a smile. "Okay, we get it," you teased, giving him a playful push. "You’ve got muscles. Can you just put the ribbon on already?”

Jeongin chuckled, clearly enjoying the attention. "Oh, I’m just getting started," he said, looking down at his arms and admiring them as though he were in front of a mirror. "You know, I have been getting stronger, so now I’m basically a walking advertisement for all my hard work."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Sure, sure," you said, amused. "Keep flexing. I just want you to tie the ribbon on so I can see how ridiculous you look with it."

Jeongin’s grin widened, and he leaned forward to take the ribbon from your hand. "Fine, I’ll humor you. But just so you know," he said as he carefully wrapped the ribbon around his bicep, making sure it was tied perfectly. "I’m not just doing this for you. It’s a chance for me to show off my gains."

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic tone. "I can see that," you teased, playfully eyeing him as he flexed again to show off the ribbon. "Are you going to wear it like this all day, or do I have to deal with the gym bro attitude the whole time?"

He turned to face you, flexing his arm dramatically, showing off the ribbon now adorning his bicep. "You think this is a one-time thing?" he asked, clearly enjoying how ridiculous and charming he looked. "I’m about to start a new trend. Who wouldn’t want to wear a ribbon with these muscles?"

You rolled your eyes again, though there was a smile on your face. "You’re such a show-off," you said, leaning over to adjust the ribbon just slightly, your fingers grazing his skin. "But you look good, I’ll admit it."

Jeongin puffed his chest out even more, giving you a proud look. "Of course I do. You’re welcome," he said, his voice oozing confidence. "You’re lucky I’m letting you see all this muscle right now."

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I’m lucky, huh?" you said with a playful smirk. "I’m the one who gets to see you all flexing over a ribbon, looking like a total goofball."

Jeongin just laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in. "Anything to make you smile," he said, softening a little despite the cocky attitude.

You snuggled into him, smiling. "I think you’re cute no matter what," you said, enjoying the warmth of his arm around you. "But this just makes you even more ridiculous, and I love it."

Jeongin grinned, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "I’ll take that as a compliment," he said, his voice softening despite his earlier boastfulness.

—

asks are always open if you have a question, concern, or request!

[creamflix]

can I have nanami + mistletoe (naughty) 😈😈😈

you’ve received a gift! ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ want to check out other gifts? ・:〃➜ click here! 

NANAMI knew this was a terrible idea. he didn’t need to look up to know the mistletoe was dangling just above your heads. 

what cruel, festive prankster even hung it there? his money was on satoru.

he shifted uncomfortably in the doorway of your house, half-blocking gojo from barging in and causing chaos. the white-haired menace had just been lingering around the mistletoe, openly smirking, clearly waiting for an opportunity to swoop in.

“don’t you have someone else to bother, gojo?” nanami asked, his voice calm but laced with thinly-veiled irritation.

“oh, come oooonn, nanamin,” gojo drawled, leaning casually against the wall. “it’s christmas! and isn’t it tradition to kiss under the mistletoe? don’t be shy, I’ll take care of it for you.”

you rolled your eyes, though your heart fluttered at the implication.

“gojo, maybe you should —”

“out,” nanami said firmly, stepping forward to nudge gojo away from the door.

“fine, fine. don’t do anything i wouldn’t do,” gojo teased, winking as he finally wandered off, leaving you and nanami alone under that cursed sprig of greenery.

you turned to nanami, unsure whether to break the silence or pretend like the mistletoe wasn’t there. “so... uh —”

“there’s mistletoe,” nanami interrupted, his gaze flicking up briefly before returning to you.

“i see that,” you said softly, your cheeks heating.

nanami cleared his throat, his hands awkwardly smoothing down his tie.

“it’s... tradition,” he murmured, his usually steady voice faltering.

you bit your lip, trying to suppress the grin threatening to spread across your face. was he... nervous?

nanami kento, the epitome of composure, looked like he was debating the ethics of kissing you.

“tradition’s important, right?” you teased gently, tilting your head.

“yes. it’s... important to honor traditions,” he said, sounding almost defensive. his brow furrowed as he looked at you, his hesitation obvious.

“then what’s stopping you?”

his breath hitched, his hand twitching at his side. “i don’t want to —” he stopped himself, his jaw tightening.

“i don’t want to overstep.”

you took a shaky breath, feeling your own nerves bubbling up. this was nanami, the man you’d quietly pined after for far too long.

and here he was, standing inches away from you, looking so painfully earnest it made your heart ache.

“kento,” you said softly, reaching up to tug lightly on his tie, pulling him closer. his eyes widened, and for a moment, he froze.

then, as if a dam had broken, his hands came up to cup your face, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that stole the very air from your lungs.

his lips were warm and firm, moving against yours with a desperation that felt so unlike his usual controlled demeanor. you gasped softly, and he groaned in response, the sound deep and raw as he leaned into you, one hand slipping to brace against the doorframe while the other remained on your cheek.

you whimpered against his lips, your fingers curling around his tie to pull him closer. his breath hitched again, and suddenly his knee was nudging between your legs, the motion subtle but enough to send a jolt of heat through your body.

“kento,” you whined, your voice barely audible.

“you have no idea,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and low, “how long i’ve wanted to do this.”

you let out a soft laugh, breathless and giddy. “and here i thought you didn’t notice me.”

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours.

“notice you? you’re all i think about,” he confessed, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

your heart swelled, and before you could second-guess yourself, you shifted against his knee, drawing a sharp inhale from him.

“don’t,” he warned, his tone half-serious, half-pleading.

“don’t what?” you asked, feigning innocence as you did it again, this time more deliberately.

he groaned, his grip on you tightening as his knee pressed up more firmly in response. “you’re going to ruin me,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire.

“maybe it’s tradition to ruin you under the mistletoe,” you teased breathlessly, grinning against his lips.

“if it wasn’t, it is now,” he murmured, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, and this time, neither of you held back.

produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡

[writingblogsandothers]

The Chosen One

Part 4

Writer's Note: Peoples - thank you all so much for the support. It has been really endearing. Forever grateful. Please accept my apologies if I have missed someone off the tag list! I'm finding it hard to navigate the world of tumblr, so I ask you to please be patient with me! Sending all the love, as per X

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Mild Taunting/Teasing // Mild Fear (nothing descriptive)

Use of She/Her/Lady - Female Pronouns

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Rudely awakened by Alba opening the curtains allowing the morning’s light filter through, Aurelia groaned as she stretched out her weary body.

“Good morning My Lady. I hope and trust that you slept well?” Alba asked her.

“Yes, thank you. I fear I have a lot to accomplish today. I am to meet with a palace planner?” Aurelia responded. Tearing away from the curtains, Alba took to tidying the linens which Aurelia had just risen from. “Yes, My Lady, that is why I have fetched you. They are waiting in the planning room of the palace. Let us get you washed and changed, and take you to meet them.”

Aurelia tread to a new part of the palace which she was yet to encounter. As she approached the room she could hear raised male voices, Alba reached forward to knock to which she was greeted with speedily opening doors, and two extremely contrasting figures standing behind. One was extremely tall and thin, meanwhile the other was short and rather plump.

“My oh my, Lady Aurelia. The Emperor has chosen well. Please you Highness, please come and sit and let us discuss.” The taller of the two elated as Aurelia thought it was much too early in the morning to be this chirpy.

She sat on the beautifully embroidered cushion which padded the heavy wooden hair, dress catching the fine wind as she lowered herself down. The pair looked at her in awe, there was something so simple, yet breathtaking about her. They knew of the Emperor’s way, particularly his brother and prayed to the gods that they would be kind to this innocent child.

“My Lady, allow us to introduce ourselves, my name is Decimus, chief textile co-ordinator here at the palace, and this is Faunus, my handmaiden.” the taller of the two joked. Faunus turned in fake-disgust, “As if! I think you’ll come to find dear Lady Aurelia that Decimus is the lesser important of the two of us… I am the chief seamster, I am responsible for most gowns in the palace, although I do have my minions. I trust and pray you like our creations which you have seen so far, like what you have on you now.”

Aurelia appreciated the pair’s light-heartedness. It was soothing in an environment which seemed so hostile or ‘egg-shell’ like. She giggled in response to them, “It is a pleasure to meet the both of you, and yes, thank you for your kind creations and alterations; they have been nothing slight of spectacular.” The pair nodded with Decimus starting, “Ma’am, shall we begin the planning? We have much to accomplish today as we have a meeting with Emperor Geta this afternoon to go over our designs.” Aurelia nodded and so the planning began.

The first item for discussion, and arguably the most important, the wedding gown. They started off with the overall shape of the dress. The dress flowed at the bottom, with an almost small pleat right round the skirting area. The top half was gathered fabric, which came in two halves covering each breast, leaving a considerable gap between. The plunge made its way right down to where the skirting started. Decimus grabbed fabric he had to hand, and started to pin the dress as he had sketched on the page. Faunus stepped back to admire Aurelia, but looked puzzled “There’s something missing…” Decimus agreed. The pair decided to grab two small gold clasps, and attached one to each shoulder, which left the arm even more exposed. The skirt was then added with a laurel leaf belt to tie the gold on the shoulder in. Aurelia looked at her reflection, almost taken away by the beauty of the dress.

“Does anyone know what the Emperor’s favourite colour is?” she asked inquisitively.

“I believe Ma’am, it is crimson red.”, Faunus drawing a piece of fabric from his collection to show her an example of the colour. Aurelia took it in her hands and created a quick-win shall, spanning across her back, draping over her forearms. The two designers stepped back and sighed, “That’s it. The dress is complete.”

“Now, we must discuss your garments for after the ceremony.” Decimus stated.

“What do you mean? I have my dress, that will suffice all day?” Aurelia asked. Decimus and Faunus looked at one another and burst out laughing – this girl truly was innocent.

“My Lady, upon marrying the Emperor, you are essentially signing yourself over to him. Body and mind. Enjoy your liberty freedoms now, as once you are married, you must obey every word that Emperor Geta mutters.” Faunus explains.

Decimus could see the worry and confusion in Aurelia’s face, so he begins, “Lady Aurelia, let us explain it gentler. Ignore Faunus and his harsh realistic world formalities. When you are married, that later evening, you must celebrate with your new husband. By celebrate, I mean to form your bodily unions and consummate your marriage.”

Aurelia takes a step back and nods, “Ah, yes, right, okay. Erm, yes, we need to ensure I am to please the Emperor, I do not wish to disappoint.” The pair giggled at her awkwardness and began drafting new garments for her to wear.

The rest of the wedding textiles were based around the choices made for the dress, and once all was finalised, Aurelia suddenly felt a huge wave of emotion come over her, breaking down crying instantaneously. Decimus approached the soon-to-be Empress, asking “My Lady, what ever is the matter? Is there something not to your liking?”

Aurelia sniffled, “People, please forgive my outburst. It’s just that I miss home and my family. I would love for my mother to be here to help me make these decisions, I’m just a bit overwhelmed.”

The duo felt a pang of deep sadness for the young girl. She had been thrust into this position through no fault nor want of her own, and it must be an extremely hard transition. Faunus began, “My Lady, I’m sure your family will be cordially invited to the wedding? Have you asked the Emperor?” Aurelia shook her head, “No, the Emperor and I haven’t discussed really anything as of yet.” Faunus sighs, “My Lady, at our review I will plant the seed. Please do not feel such sadness, you will be best looked after here.”

Aurelia sighs and goes back to planning for what should be the happiest day of her life.

***********************************************************************

She left and retired to her quarters, while she knew the meeting was going on with Geta. She took to sitting on one of the many reading windows scattered throughout the main hall; a book on a love which seemed unrealistic at the start, which blossomed into something so strong that it could conquer for the ages to come. How ironic, she thought. Alba burst in through the doors in a mild panic, “My Lady, Emperor Geta wishes your presence in the courtyard to go for a walk.” Aurelia rises from her perch, leaving her book in its place.

She made her way down the vast hallway, and saw a tall figure at the end. She knew from the stature it was him, she bowed gently at him on approach, to which he offered his arm in which for her to link as they made their way into the courtyard.

The walk was silent, each taking in their surroundings and any activity they could hear going on. Geta broke the silence, “I spoke with Decimus and Faunus. They showed me the designs.” Aurelia looked at him through her long, dark lashes. “For a commoner, you have great taste. There were no amendments, all is to go as you planned.”

“Thank you, my Emperor.”

Geta groaned leaving Aurelia with a degree of fear, what did she do wrong? “Aurelia, what did I tell you last night? When we’re together and others are not around, it’s just Geta. No need for the pageantry.”

“Sorry Sire. I mean, Geta.” Geta looked at her with fierce eyes, then broke down laughing. He pulled her along as they began to walk once more. She sighed in relief, smiling to herself knowing she made him laugh.

“I appreciated the sentiment with the colour scheme. The pair told me of your desire to include my favourite colour.”

“I thought it only fair, considering it is both of our days.”

Geta hummed in agreement, “It made me realise that the union we have will solidify your loyalty to me and the empire. You will be greatly rewarded for your actions.”

Aurelia thanked him. Bravely, she spoke, “Geta. I wish to include my family at the festivities.” He stopped in his tracks, tensing at the idea. He stared intently at the woman, taking in her puppy-dog eyes, with her hair blowing in the wind. If his brother seen this weakness, he feared he would be ripped off the throne. What was it about her that made him go almost soft in nature?

“Okay.”

Aurelia stepped back in shock, “Do you truly mean it?”

“Yes. Prepare the letter, I will get one of the guards to deliver it.”

“Oh Geta, thank you!” Out of instinct, she jumped up and hugged the Emperor. He froze at the prospect of such tactile affection. Aurelia stepped back, and bowed her head, “Please forgive me for my outburst, it was unacceptable. I am sorry.”

Geta cleared his throat and took her arm once more, saying nothing but walking toward the direction of the living quarters once more. He dare not show the electricity that ran through him when she hugged him. That was weakness, and weakness? In his game? Costs lives.

***********************************************************************

Aurelia makes her way back to her quarters, and grabs her writing apparatus. She begins to pen a letter to her family;

“Dearest Mater, Pater, Evander and Claudius I hope this letter finds you all well.

I am writing to inform you that Emperor Geta and I request your presence at our marriage ceremony this coming Dies Vernes.

I would also like to affirm that I am well, and the palace life is treating me kind.

Dearest family, I wish only for your presence and kind support on this day.

Your loving daughter and sister, Aurelia”

She only wished could be more transparent of the occurrences, she feared a guard or other could see her writing so she felt it best to keep all neutral. Walking out of her quarters, she was met with a guard who was readily willing to accept her letter and deliver to her family. She curtly nodded and thanked the guard and sent him on his way.

Sighing she watched the guard walk down the hallway with authority, praying her family would see her request through.

Part 5

[itstheghostofmypast]

I'm Okay! Gwenchana!

Non-Idol Husband Choi San x (F) Reader

Summary: If there is one thing a good husband knows, it is that intimacy is not bound to the gratification of the physical being, but also the mind and soul.

Genre: Hurt Comfort

Rating: PG- 13

Word Count: 2.1 K

Est. Read Time: 10 min

Warnings: eldest sibling/child trauma (if ykyk)

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

AN: A bit self-indulgent- a light-hearted (i guess) fic before the first chapter of the Ice on My teeth series <3

He watched you walk into your shared bedroom and fall onto the bed, walking in behind you with a heavy sigh, tugging on his tie to loosen it. Perhaps the family dinner did not go as planned, well, most of it. The evening started off well, as well as it could be, honestly the only time he'd say you were this nervous was when you were around your parents. The jitters he'd see trembling through your frame had him holding himself back from enveloping you in a warm embrace, trying to soothe your nervousness, but the physical touch was one of the things you'd avoid around your family.

Slipping the tie off his neck, he unbuttoned his shirt, eying your sprawled out on the bed through the mirror. It was all fine, the conversation was light-hearted, the bare minimum critical comments were targeted towards you, nothing you couldn't handle- until your sibling had arrived.

With a heavy sigh he turned to face you, only to notice your soft breathing, of course, you had fallen asleep. Removing his shirt he walked over to you, reaching over to gently brush the loose strands of hair on your face, his lips pressed into a thin line as he noticed the pink puffiness around your closed eyes, the memories of you crying your heart out in the car on the way back had his heart clench again.

“Love, wake up,” the soft whisper of your husband stirred you out of your dreamless slumber, slowly you opened your eyes and turned your head to glance up at the man who gave you a soft smile in return. Helping you sit up his nimble fingers began to unbutton your top, slipping it off your shoulders. The chill in the room had goosebumps scatter across your warm skin, pulling you into full consciousness, as you pouted at him, “You want to do it now?” you asked, wondering if you should tell him that you were in no mood for it tonight, not that he’d force you, but you did notice how restless he was during dinner, and in the car on the way back, so perhaps he was expecting something.

“Huh? Oh.” the man chuckled at your silly little antics, “Such a naughty wife I have.” he mumbled, staring up at you as he crouched down between your legs, looking up at you while he slipped off your socks, “I just thought a nice warm bath would help you sleep better.”

“Oh…” your face flushed at the statement, embarrassed at the mistake you had just made, wondering why you even thought of it in the first place. Though you couldn't ponder about it any longer, especially when you were scooped up into his arms, a yelp escaping your lips as you looped your arms around his neck, clinging onto him for warmth, in nothing but your undergarments, “Sannie!”

“Don't worry, I'll be careful!”

His declaration echoed in the washroom as he walked into the shower cabin, gently placing you on the shower bench before ridding himself of his garments and turning to face you with a stupid smug expression, earning an eye roll from you. Once your pesky garments were out of the way he turned the nob to the left, holding onto the shower head to check the warmth.

“I can do this myself you know?”

San ignored your statement, only to turn around and ‘accidentally’ spray your face with the warm water, earning a squeal, “Oh- I'm sorry, must've slipped.” With that he approached you, sitting behind you, holding the shower head closer to your head for it to soak your hair and body while you stared at your hands in your lap.

“I never said you couldn’t.”

It wasn’t as if he had something out of the ordinary, but perhaps the whole dinner had been weighing down on you enough to have you sniffle at the statement and you hoped that for once he wouldn’t react to you crying, instead would let you- and you were glad he did, going about his routine.

San noticed the way your shoulders quivered, his hand giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze before trailing lower as if he were trying to ease the tension in your back muscles, with the help of the warm water that cascaded down your form. Switching off the water he picked up the shampoo bottle he had conveniently placed beside him, flipping open the cap he poured a generous amount of purple liquid into his palm, picking up the rich berry scent, and making a mental note to use this next time too, it smelled better than his mint shampoo.

With gentle hands he began to lather the shampoo in your hair, applying gentle pressure on your scalp, noting how your crying had seized, only to be replaced by your shallow breathing, noticing how you were trying to calm yourself down, your silence bothering him.

“It’s getting colder, no?” he conversed, trying to distract you from all those thoughts, “You should wear more layers from now on, yeah?”

You only nodded in return, closing your eyes when he began to wash off the shampoo, wanting to ask him if you were to return the favor, as your hand blindly reached behind the for the bottle.

“Love?”

“Umm…yes?”

“For someone who said she’s not in the mood, your hand is-”

“oh-Oh, I thought that was the shampoo bottle!” you gasped pulling your hand back- honestly unsure to why you were so embarrassed, you were married to the man.

“No problem at all, sweets,” his tone was oozing with cockiness as he turned off the water once more, this time reaching for the liquid body wash, “I do understand one can confuse the two because of the similarity in sizes.” He laughed at the way you turned to glare at him only to gently turn you back, “Hold still would ya?”

With a huff you turned around facing the tiled wall, watching the condensation, as he began to gently massage your shoulders, lathering up your body with the soap, feeling him get a bit handsy, but nothing too out of control, at this point you knew he was doing it to distract you. You wondered if you hadn’t stepped on his foot under the table tonight, what would he have said? Would he have defended you? Well, indeed he would have, but what would he have said? He was usually very composed, very calm and careful with his words.

Perhaps he would have politely said something to defuse the situation, or perhaps he would have lost his temper- in either situation, one thing was sure, you were glad you signalled him to be quiet. For if there was one thing you knew, it was that at the end of the day, you were taught that the eldest is to be patient, all bearing and understanding, even when the younger one is wrong- and you had been meeting that bar of expectation for all your life, perhaps because that’s how you were trained to be or to be more exact, you just were not a fan of chaos and useless banter. Though a part of you did wish, that either parent would have tried to handle the situation better, rather than dragging you down because of the whole ‘we expected better from you’ and instead understood when you confronted your sibling about the comment,

“Why? Didn’t you say you didn’t want kids?”

The statement had caught you off guard, the whole conversation was pointless anyway, the topic of children was between your husband and you, and why was it weird if you had changed your views from what they were at the age of fifteen. So, like any sane person, you snapped back with, “Why do you think I owe you an explanation?”

Apparently, that was wrong, and had let loose a whirlwind of emotions within you, especially when your parents began to talk about how it is natural to want kids, but as a family, they do have the right to know how your views changed or rather- your sibling, the sibling you were supposed to parent once they were gone. This followed the whole 'how you were supposed to be the bigger person', even when you argued back saying your sibling never needed to bring up such an old conversation in front of your husband, embarrassing you in front of him- of course, you didn’t tell him this? Why would you? Your views had changed and one day you did plan on starting a family with your husband-

“You need to calm down.”

His warm chest pressed against your back, slowly pulling you back into a hug, arms wrapping around you frame as he placed his chin on your shoulder, tilting to place a tender kiss on your cheek, before pressing his wet cheek against yours, “Thanks for stopping me back then, I know my expressions were scary enough, if I had said something else…” his words trailed off as he squeezed you closer, mumbling against your cheek before pulling away, “I don’t think I can choose my words wisely at the sight of my wife in tears.”

With the weight of those words weighing down on you, you found yourself being wrapped in a fluffy towel and walked out of the washroom, being seated on the bed when he had scurried towards the cupboard, pulling out his hoodie and running back with it, “Arms up!” and as if wired to the command you raised your hands giggling when in one quick motion you felt the soft cotton, the familiar scent enveloping you in a warm hug.

“Where are you going?” you asked as you watched him saunter back into the washroom with the towel hanging low on his hips, only for him to swiftly turn around with a serious look in his eyes, “You were right, the mushrooms did do me dirty.”

You took a moment to process what he said before sighing in defeat, shaking your head at the duality of your husband, so serious one moment and completely aloof the next. Nonetheless, one thing was sure, you really depended on him, perhaps he really was the only being keeping you sane. Perhaps tomorrow you’d talk to him about starting a family, and, tomorrow you’d tell him why you didn’t want kids at the age of fifteen- though you may censor the part where you for a very long time thought that like male seahorses, men give birth, and at fifteen when you found out that was not the case, your plans of having eleven children to raise your own football team quickly washed away- yeah, it was best to censor that part, one clown is enough in a relationship, no need to create a circus.

By the time San was done with cleaning and showering he had come out to find you sleeping peacefully, snuggled up on his side, much to his pleasure. Lifting the blankets he slipped into bed, laying on your side of the bed, sighing at the scent of your shampoo wafting off your pillow, he should do this more often. He wanted to know more about the whole secret that was spilt today, you had never mentioned this to him before, in fact, you seemed ever ready to start a family with him, so he wondered if he was in any sense forcing you to do so- for if there was one thing that mattered to him most, it was your happiness, so yes, if you felt just the two of you completed your family he'd be fine with that- perhaps encourage you to get a cat at max.

A part of him wanted to ask you about the expectations your parents had when it came to your role as an older child and their occasional unfair treatment- though he knew you’d brush it off, too scared of rejection to bring it up at the moment, perhaps one day he’d take a stand for you, one that he’d carefully curate, with wise words and logical reasoning- or you’d end up blowing up and handling it yourself before he could, but that was a worry of another day.

Slowly pulling you closer, he held his breath when you changed positions, afraid that he had woken you up, only to sigh in relief when you snored in bliss, only to turn and bury your face in his chest, an arm draping around his waist. A smile stretched across his face, giddy like a teenage boy who had finally confessed to his crush, openly welcoming this intimacy, as he squeezed you against him, tangling his limbs with yours before closing his eyes to waltz with you on the sprung floor of the ballroom in your dreams.

Though when he had almost succumbed to sleep his eyes snapped open, jerking himself awake at the horrid thought he just had, glancing down at you, unsure if he should wake you up, for it was a grave mistake, one that broke the chain of process of showering-

“I forgot to condition her hair.”

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25

@s-h-y-a @ateezwonderland

[cowlings]

warnings for age gap, no pronouns used. sfw. toshinori's insecurities are explored a bit.

there’s something about the older pro heroes having a controversially young partner that makes them feel young again.

when it comes to toshinori yagi, he feels like a 20 year old breezing through life. scratch that, you make him feel like a dumb teenager. he stumbles over his own feet, mixes up his words, and he constantly sweats at the thought of being around you. it feels like he’s suddenly trapped inside a romcom, where he’s head over heels over his new workmate.

the day you moved into the teacher dorms was the day you were introduced to him. the great all might. the symbol of peace, and also the hero whose posters are stuck decorating the walls of your childhood room.

when you began your work as a teacher at ua, he was the first to ask you out for lunch in his office. and who are you to deny, when the muscly, steaming hot man of your dreams is leaning against his office’s doorframe, the famous, million dollar smile plastered on his face. with a small bento box in hand.

a part of him feels like he has to care for you. it’s a small gesture, one he would’ve liked to have at his early twenties. he’s just doing what anyone would do, right? there’s obviously not a part of him that is intrigued by you. no, not one bit.

and to say you’re interested in uncovering what’s behind all might’s strong front is an understatement. in your eyes, it’s clear that he’s struggling, and you’re more than willing to become the one he can rely on. though, it takes time. your patience is about to be tested well beyond its limits. so, you start off slow.

yagi might think of himself as self centered, but there has to be something going on. that's what he thinks, at least.

you fix his tie when it’s slowly slipping, and straighten the collars of his shirts. you twirl the two beautiful blond strands of hair decorating his face, and always have your hand grazing his when walking with him around campus. his desk is next to yours in the teacher’s lounge, and you always offer him your post its and stickers for him to use when grading. he’s grown so comfortable, in fact, that he takes them without asking. there’s a comfortable silence, except when you’re softly humming whatever 80s song pops in your head. he thinks he’ll faint because you enjoy the same music he did back in the day.

you’re just being you. you’ve done the same with mic, and eraser too. he has to be too full of himself for even considering the fact that you feel something for him. which brings the question, does he feel something for you? if he doesn't, then why is he spending time analyzing his every interaction with you? your expressions, actions and reactions are on loop as he tries to figure out what he feels.

is it even okay? he’s well into his fifties, and you’re still a long way from there. his morality begins to chew at him, because you’re a young spirit, and he’s already seeing himself in a grave. it’s harsh, but yagi's mind goes to the extreme. he doesn’t want to take away your youth.

but hasn’t he been selfless his whole life? it should be time for him to think for himself. he’s come to recognize that you may be sending signals, because there’s something so adoring about the way you look at him—he’s certain there’s a spark. and it's then when he realizes he's fallen. very hard.

and there’s no way for him to be straightforward about it. would it be abuse of power if the all might went and confessed everything he felt towards his younger, new-in-the-field pro hero and coworker? would you be pressured into reciprocating because of who he is?

he’s assuring himself that if you were to be interested, you’d be interested for what he once was. he was the symbol for everything: peace, hope, sex—you name it, he's been it for decades. he's sure that you're chasing the idea of him, and not what he has become.

the best way to push someone away is to show what makes you ugly, right? the next thing you know, you're calling him by his surname because he asks you to, and when it's two in the morning and both of you can't sleep...

you see him outside the dorms. sitting down, lanky arms wrapped around his legs. you knew the teaching faculty was a bit secretive with him around you at first, and this was why. when he asks if you can't sleep and you nod, he looks at you with the most melancholic expression, daring to ask a single question.

he gestures to his torso. “you want a bedtime story, kid?”

toshinori yagi talks. he talks a lot. he’s telling you of the gruesome fight five years ago, of his declining health, and his fears for the future. he talks so much, in fact that he’s asking you if you can keep a secret, and talks about how his search for a successor had come to an end when he came to ua. it’s during this moment that you realize there’s more to your attraction to him than your brain let on.

and he realizes something too. he feels comfortable with you, and you remind him of home. but what’s home to toshinori yagi? he doesn’t have a clear answer, but he knows you resemble it. you’re easy to be around, and as he would come to find later on, you’re easy to love.

yet he pushes every happy thought away, his mind clouded with doubt. you scoot closer to him, and his hand unconsciously reaches for yours. as soon as he realizes it, though, he's pulling his hand away and muttering an apology. and you insist, because you don't mind if it's him who does it. and his mind wanders.

"i really like you, yagi."

he's been broken out of his trance. he stares at you in disbelief, "you like me?"

you nod. "are you sure? you probably like the old me, like everyone else. it's just in your head, kid—"

"god fucking damn it i'm in love with you, toshinori."

and to toshinori yagi, it's hard to believe. his mouth falls agape because there is no barrier left to protect him now. you've broken every wall with a single sentence. so you continue.

"i love the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, i love how your two hair strands frame your face, i love the way you're always looking out for others, and how you go into your muscly form to cheer people on. i love your patience, and how dedicated you are when you truly love something. more than a great hero, you're a great person. you need me to go on? because i—"

"do you pity me?"

"do i need to pity you? i'm being genuine, yagi. kinda sucks to get brushed off like that, y'know?"

he stops for a moment.

"...i like you too. like—a lot. it's just hard. to process, i mean."

you look at him enamored. toshinori finally takes the first step and intertwines his fingers with yours. and for the first time in the whole night, he smiles. so wide.

"let's do this step by step, yeah? now let's get some sleep, old man. we have a class to teach tomorrow."

[anifever]

i cant hold it in anymore!1!1!1!1!1!1!1!!1!1 i <3 johnny cade so much, could you do some hcs for him please?

Johnny Cade Dating HCs ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Johnny Cade x Fem!Reader

୨୧ : What I think dating Johnny would include 😋

A/N : He’s so gorgeous it makes me sick, also sorry this is kinda short

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦴 ˚₊‧⁺˖

୨ Ppl need to stop mischaracterizing him as an innocent femboy puppy twink I’m gonna cry

୨ Anyways

୨ Watching stray cats together and labeling each one as the gang members

୨ ^ Dallas is a black and hissy one 😇

୨ There’s literally no doubt that he stays at your house almost all the time

୨ Definitely has a room of his own or just sleeps on the couch

୨ Stargazing every few nights in the lot

୨ He learns a lot of the constellations from some book Pony had lying around to try and impress you

୨ He’s an insanely good listener

୨ If you need to pour your heart out and rant or simply gossip about something, he’s your guy

୨ He never interrupts- not just because he’s quiet, he’s just taking it all in and being respectful

୨ He always stands up for you whether it’s to some rando, Soc, or one of the guys bothering you (even though he def gets nervous the same way he did when he stood up to Dallas for Cherry)

୨ But like he doesn’t care because it’s you

୨ He whistles random tunes to try and help you sleep and also just in general when he’s bored

୨ He cannot take compliments for the life of him (using the word life lightly)

୨ He either just brushes it off or gets awkward

୨ Say anything about his looks in public and he gets sheepish and starts kicking a rock LMFAOO

୨ He ties you makeshift rings out of flowers

୨ He always asks you for permission before doing stuff like kissing, etc

୨ Helps you tie/untie your shoes even if you’re perfectly capable

୨ He does random stuff for you without any hesitation

୨ Oh you dropped a pencil? He’s got it. You take him shopping with you? He’s carrying the bags. You want something that you’re definitely closer to? He’s getting it for you anyways.

୨ There’s a lottttt of comforting and reassurance being done considering all he’s been through

୨ You and Two-Bit would gladly join eachother in yelling at or fighting his parents

୨ You always patch him up after he gets jumped or has altercations at home

୨ He usually just lets his wounds heal by themselves, but nope, you make him let you help

୨ Anyways, you’re one of the only people he can fully relax around without feeling constantly on edge

୨ Like you see that boy with his shoulders slumped and stress free- very rare occurrence

୨ Sometimes you beg him to not put grease in his hair so you can freely play with it

୨ He’s a little shy most of the time but the longer you’re together he gets more sly

୨ He’s taking after Dallas…

୨ Like he musters up the courage to do the stupid arm around shoulder thing while you guys are watching a movie and thinks it was so clever

୨ He’s constantly admiring you

୨ You could be in pajamas and he’d be staring, but he’ll be extra star struck if you dress up even slightly

୨ Cue Dallas making jokes about him catching flies

[jhoneybees]

Grumpy.

Ooooo a Greg Nolan ficcccc! Ok this one I just had to write as smut because oh how I love my hubby, my pumpy umpy umpkin, huggy bearrr Greggy Nolannn(sorry if they was cringe as hell-) Hope you enjoy!🤭

Characters: Greg Nolan X wife!reader

Warnings/triggers: SMUTTTT, argument, angry sex, fingering, handjob, spanking, swearing, Greg being rough, use of daddy

Tags: @atleastpleasetelephone @i-r-i-n-a-a @theelvisprincess @thelonelyheart @polksaladava @hooked-on-elvis

_____________________________________________

Greg has been in such a grumpy mood lately and you know it’s his job that’s poking at him, you’re quite proud of how well he’s managing his anger because there were times where he took it too far and hurt some people’s feelings and you made sure to talk to him about it. You’ve been married to him for 6 years now and really, you’re still surprised how easy it is to annoy Greg, it’s like how a man pokes a bull and you have to admit your husband being this grumpy and sarcastic bum sometimes does things to you. That frown he almost has all the time is so hot, it’s so sexy and his voice, crisp, deep and grumbly, a lot of the time you can’t help rubbing your thighs together.

You do listen and comfort him from time to time, when he wants it you mean. It’s just when he comes home nowadays, roughly closing the front door. Huffing and puffing as he yanks his tie and jacket off, makes your brain turn to mush.

He’s just so sexy when he’s angry.

Now, you know some people might say that is quite toxic, to find your partner when they’re angry attractive but come on… doesn’t the thought of allowing him to dig all his anger deep inside of you with large firm hands gripping at your hips like a vice. Never letting you go until you get him to that place he craves sound delicious?

It’s so delicious that this afternoon, you are going to get yourself all dolled up for him. He’s been going through it this week and you think he deserves a bit of pampering and hopefully a bit of rough sex to get through this week of turmoil. You’ll get yourself in your best lingerie and curl your hair and when you finish, you’re gonna quickly run around the house, finishing off the rest of the chores you’ve been meaning to do this weekend, and finally after a little while of doing just that you gently sit yourself down on the main couch in the living room, fluffing your hair and adjusting your bra, biting your bottom lip at the anticipation of your husband arriving home.

Slam.

“Hi, honey.” You say, lovingly. Pushing your body off of the couch and padding over through the archway to the front door, holding your arms up to rest on his shoulders. Giving him the usual welcome kiss that he sighs from. “How did work go?”

“Shit.” Greg grumbles.

You can already feel your center tingling. “Oh.” Raking your fingers through his hair, you keep a bit of distance with your bodies. “Wanna talk about it?”

He huffs. “I’d just be telling ya the same thing.”

“I don’t mind.” You comfort, stifling a smile feeling his finger brush against the side of your thigh.

“What’re you wearin’ this for?” He asks and you smirk a little looking into his tired eyes, keeping your composure level.

“Thought I could give you a little bit of loving…” You lift your knee ever slightly, grazing your bare thigh against his clothed one. You slide your elbows down to rub your hands up and down on his chest. Inching your face to be that bit closer to his, nuzzling his nose with yours but he sighs a bit agitated and pulls away.

“Not ta’night, baby… I just want some peace.”

Lightly moving your arms off of him and walking past to make his way into the kitchen, you follow behind, quietly. Placing your hand on the counter as you watch him grab a beer from the fridge, popping the lid off with ease and taking a big swig. Your other hand fidgets with the strap of your bra, standing in a way to make him notice you but he just turns around and leans back against the same counter, facing away rubbing his face with his free hand.

“Ugh…” He groans. Hanging his head low as he takes another couple of swigs. Roughly pulling on his tie but when it gets caught suddenly he’s slamming his beer down and ripping the thing off. Throwing it over the counter for it to land on the floor. “Damnit!”

Your body jolts a little at the sudden noise, silently watching him in front of you pace back and forth his hair a bit more disheveled than before and as he’s taking off his blazer and rubbing his forehead. A deep frown appears on his face.

“That sonofab*tch doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about, tellin’ me ta do two photoshoots on Friday even though I got f*cking five to do on that same day. Comin’ in everyday ta tell me the same goddamn thing, sayin’ he’d pay extra but he never f*cking does… Could shove a f*ckin’ camera up his ass and tell ‘im ta piss off. I’m only one f*cking man.”

“...Honey?” You call out. Walking towards him with great caution and when your hand goes up to touch his shoulder, you blink feeling him slapping it away. “Baby you-”

“Not right now.” He growls.

But you try again, this time stepping in front of him and holding onto his shoulders. Your eyes peer up at him with concern and as you see he’s about to push you away you brace yourself only for nothing to come and you just hear him breathe in deeply and close his eyes. “Baby-”

“Listen to me, Gre-”

“I don’t wan-”

“You can always take a couple of days off to rest.” You say quickly in hopes that might help but clearly you’re wrong when he turns away in almost disgust.

“I ain’t got time for days-”

“You can make time-”

“MAKE TIME MY ASS.”

He snaps, making you flinch. “I’m sure your boss would-”

“Damnit!” He spits, turning away but when his gaze lands back on you. Your heart skips a beat seeing his blue eyes now on fire.

“F*cking ‘ell” He yanks on your arm and soon pinning your back to the kitchen counter, you squeak, feeling him tear your black panties off letting them fall, all ripped up on the floor by your feet, a hot breath on your ear. “Turn around.”

“W-What?” You stutter, chest heaving with shock.

Breathing heavily, his frown deepens. “You’re gonna take me like a good girl.” Gliding his big hand down squeezing your right ass cheek in his palm, your hips buck feeling his fingertip nudge against your already wet hole.

“O-Okay.” You whimper.

“Hm?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Gonna take me, good?” He asks with something a bit softer in his tone of voice but when you nod and he turns you around, pressing your torso onto the cold countertop, his next actions make you scratch the idea of him going easy on you right out of your head.

SLAP.

“Daddy!” You gasp, back arching feeling the sting on your skin.

“F*ck…” He breathes, pushing you back down. “Be a good girl f’me.”

You nod and your hand quickly grips the edge of the counter as your warm skin touches the cold vinyl making a shiver go down your spine and the clinking of Greg’s belt fills your ears. Gulping at the sound of his moans as he strokes his cock, you whimper loudly feeling from out of nowhere him push two of his long fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out quickly groaning at how wet your pussy is and not long he pulls them back out, cursing at how you taste as he sucks his fingers. “Mmm…”

Gripping onto your hip and guiding the tip of his cock to your dripping entrance, he thrusts himself inside with no warning, his hold tightening listening to your cries. “Greg!”

He begins to drive his hard length deep inside of you, not giving any time to adjust and as you feel the sensations spread all throughout your body, your head starts to spin.”Mm-”

“That’s it.” Greg groans, gritting his teeth. Not wasting any time on speeding up the rhythm of his thrusts.

You whine, rising onto your tippy toes trying to ease the slight pain that’s slowly forming into pleasure Greg slams your hips to the edge of the counter and rams his cock impossibly deeper. Leaning over your back as you quietly start to moan. He sucks the skin on the back of your neck in between his teeth, kissing there as his hands slide up to the top of your hip bones. Rolling his eyes back at your gushy walls clenching around his girth, coating him in all your juices.

“Taking me s’well…” He murmurs breathlessly in your ear, hastily unclasping your bra and sliding his hand underneath your body to grasp onto your breast rubbing his palm over your nipple making you moan and your arms shake as they try their best to hold you up. You bite your lip.”Goddamn…”

His thrusts get stronger and stronger as every moan and grunt goes by and wet sounds of your body colliding together fills your beach house soon your hitched breaths and slurred moans join in.

“Daddy…” You beg.

“Gonna get us there, baby…gonna get us there- oh yes…yes.”

Your eyes roll back, his tip nudging at your cervix. It’s now hitting that place over and over and how your moans were big and loud before, now they are deafening. The sensations get so good, so overwhelming good that it doesn’t take long for Greg to shoot his release into your womb and you cum hard on his cock.

“F*ck yes, baby…” He whispers after slowly coming down from his high. His forehead resting on the back of your shoulder as you pant.

“Feel better?”

“Mhm.”

“Grumpy.” You laugh breathlessly.

[yallthemwitches]

“Can I… can I touch you?”

And maybe as a sequel to study session?

Hello Anon! Yes! I'm glad you asked for a sequel for this one because that was one of my favorite kinktobers to write! Perhaps that's why I (once again) went in expecting a micro fic but ended with 3k words...

I feel like I write too much crazy, frantic jily so it was nice to have a sweet but sexy moment. (it's still smut after all)

Here's the link to Study Session, though you don't need to read it before this one!

Read under the cut or AO3 here!

“Do you have anything between third and fourth period?”

She had said it as a joke—-well, sort of, but either way she had underestimated the hope a teenage boy could gather from such an offer.

When she enters the common room he is facing the door, wringing his hands nervously. His hair is still wild from their stint in the library, and she tries not to note that his tie has also remained in a similar state of dishevelment, clearly having been tugged in a manner that school regulations don’t allow. 

“Er, hi.”

He jumps out of his seat and walks towards her, almost sheepish in his movements. His eyes are unable to stop flickering to her lips then downwards, evident that their earlier moment together is still fresh in his mind. 

“You said something about meeting again…after third.” 

The sheepish tone of his voice creates a stir in her chest accompanied by a burning heat traveling downwards. James Potter, quidditch hero, most popular boy in school, did not only want her but was absolutely powerless because of it. 

“If—if you were just having a laugh about that then I’ll just..”

“No, I wasn’t.” She stutters, “...I wasn’t having a laugh—I mean.” It bubbles out and her face flushes red. So much for keeping an upperhand.

 James’ eyes grow wide and bright, his typical crooked smile starting to tug at his lips. 

“Yeah?” 

She could practically hear his confidence growing, his ego reentering his body.

 “Well, all the lads will be out for the next two hours besides Peter, but I —“

“--You told him to shove off,” she finishes for him, the heat from earlier that day now back and pooling heavy between her legs. He doesn’t need to elaborate on where he was referring to, the stairs to the boys dorm practically pulsing from the corner of her eye. 

If she hadn’t intended to sit on his lap back in the library, there is no mistake of intention now. James nods, rare blotches of red appearing under his rims and Lily has to work hard to not think about how the last time she saw his cheeks in such a way, he was grinding an orgasm out of her with just his leg. 

“So— should we...” His eyes flicker to the stairs, an air of excitement and impatience setting in on his features. “I mean, again– if you want to.”

She takes a step closer, arms aching from staying next to her sides and not sliding back in their now familiar spot around his neck.

“Lead the way.”

~ ~ ~

The boys’ dorm is just about how she imagined it, a clutter of books, quidditch supplies and various contraband. Any other time she might have tried to take a closer look, but she doesn’t get far enough in the door before James rounds on her with newfound confidence. Suddenly, something warm and heavy wraps around her waist, pulling her flush against him. 

“You are just lovely.” He cups her face, stepping close enough so her legs part to make way for him to slot himself against her. 

“I can’t stop thinking about earlier—how you smell, how soft your lips are, the feel of you against me…” 

He sidles them over so her back touches the door and his hand juts out until she hears the click of the lock sliding into place. 

“I still feel like I’m dreaming— like this can’t be real. I must be suffering from potion fumes….laying in the hospital wing, hallucinating—-“

She pulls up, slanting their lips together. He sighs an oh into her mouth, his breath hot and sweet. They are sweet probing kisses, not like the ones in the library where the urgency to simply be together was unbearable.

“Stop talking Potter.” 

He laughs, mouth recapturing hers, drawing her even closer. With privacy the gift of time is palpable, allowing them to move out of the realm of fever dreams and into reality.  She feels his hands wrap tighter around her, finding her arse and giving a small squeeze, pushing a smile into her lips. 

Hands find nests in each other's hair. Tongues move like silk contrasting with the hard, playful nips they exchange to lower lips. She savors each small sound he makes into her, all a perfect bundle of adoring and awe.

Unsurprising, he can’t stay quiet for long. “Lily—I’m so…” but the words get stuck in his throat, her attention going towards something hard beginning to press into her thigh. Experimentally, she shifts against it and he makes a low humming sound, the hand resting on her arse tensing up and waving her forward to repeat the motion. Another hand curls around and dances along the hemline of her shirt, tickling the spot of midriff starting to show. 

“James–” she breathes out, holding onto him for support as he kisses his way to the sensitive place behind her ear. “I want you–.” 

At the confession his hands contract and his lips become more frantic, trading light butterfly kisses for open mouthed ministrations. It makes finishing her thought almost not worth it. 

“--I want you, but I’d also like to enter the room first..” He pulls back and gives another genuine laugh, one that makes her burst with pride. Reaching up on her toes, she can’t help but place a kiss where his neck is exposed from his outburst and the feel of her lips snaps him back into gear, turning her in his arms and waddling them forward towards the bed across the room. His erection strains against her arse as they move, each step a little zing of pleasure. 

“How rude of me,” he whispers against her ear. They stop in front of the bed and he turns her back to face him, eyes clouded as though sleepwalking. “Welcome to my bed.”

His Bed. It’s almost humorous how one single noun is capable of making her heart beat out of her rib cage. How many times has she imagined what he does in this bed? How many times has he thought of her?

He sits on the edge and pulls her down onto his lap. It’s all too similar from that morning—the way her hands circle his neck, how her body positions in a way that even the slightest movement creates friction between her center and his ever present erection. Settling in, they both let out a moan of relief, both evidently yearning for the same thing since the last couple of hours. 

“I’m absolutely mad for you Evans,” he murmurs and she wastes no time pushing their mouths together again, a sailing feeling in her chest taking over. She puts a hand to the front of his shirt, edging it under to find the hot skin of his abdomen and he sighs a soft gentle sound that she immediately wants to hear again. 

“That’s funny because I’m absolutely mad for you too.”

The look in his eye changes from hazy to dark to purely euphoric, responding with a deep kiss. She shifts over him until she is back straddling his waist, legs curling around his waist until she can feel the familiar brush of him against the spot she yearns to be touched most. 

“Can I take this off?” A hand stalls at a button of his shirt while the other has already begun wandering the length of his chest underneath, hungry to feel what she already knew about his stature. In response, he unlatches his hands from around her to unbutton it, shucking it off with his tie in one movement. 

Christ.

She pulls back to get a better look at him, unabashedly darting her gaze from his abs to his toned shoulders.  She had seen him shirtless before during quidditch, the vision of him pumping his fist in the air in victory after a match easily being a replaying image in her mind, but never this close, never touchable.

“You’re fit–” she murmurs, catching the burning look of a stroked ego in his eyes. She doesn’t let herself think about her next move, moving her hands to her own blouse and unbuttoning down the front. A quiet fuck escapes his lips when her shirt finally flaps open, exposing her bare breasts to him and the cold dormroom air. His eyes roam her chest, a haggard breath coming from his open mouth.

“Merlin…”

She has the immediate desire to cover up, feeling the weight of his gaze on her. His hand remains modest on her waist, clearly frozen from shock. 

“I—I don’t wear a bra,” she says deadpan, wanting to fill the silence. A grin breaks out on his face, eyes sparkling. 

“And I thank Merlin for it everyday.”

Her cheeks blaze and now she does cover up, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“What do you mean?”

James cocks his head, a glint of mischief in his eye. “Evans, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think there’s a bloke in this castle over the third year that hasn’t noticed.”

She turns her head, trying to mask obvious embarrassment. It isn’t like she's not aware either, but to hear it from him, make it too unbearable to think about. Sensing her shift in mood, he cups her chin and pulls her head back to look at him, eyes now soft. 

“No, don’t hide yourself. You have no idea—no idea how much I’ve even tried to imagine you like this.”

He places a hand on one of her crossed arms and she slowly lowers them. She watches as he licks his lips, eyes growing wild again at the sight of her. 

“--And apparently my imagination is rubbish because—because, I mean fuck.”

He inches a hand up from her stomach towards one of her breasts, eyes flickering between watching her expression and the path to the newly exposed skin. Stopping just underneath, he leans in and gives her a soft kiss, begging for permission.

Taking his hand, she finishes his path for him, her hard tit pressing into his warm, enveloping palm. He sucks in a breath, eyes becoming heavy lidded as his fingers curl around her soft skin. 

“Just unbelievable…”

She grins, tugging lightly at the strands of hair at the back of his head.

“What?”

“How absolutely perfect you are.”

Her body surges with pure adoration. She hinges forward, pressing the bare skin of their chests together until he is falling back onto the bed, taking her down with him. They scramble with laughter for a moment, situating themselves properly so she hovers over his laying form. A hand traces the muscles of his abdomen down to his waistband, fingering at the fabric before continuing downwards to the tent of his pants. Lifting her hips up, she presses a hand against his erection, smoothing her thumb around the outline of him beneath the fabric. 

“Is this alright?” She asks, knowing the answer just by the look on his face. She makes another hesitant pass with her thumb and a shallow moan escapes his lips, head starting to fall back. 

“It’s incredible. Please, don’t stop.”

She doesn’t. Leaning forward to kiss her way back up to him, he shuffles himself lower so he can take one of her tits into his mouth, his tongue swirling hot circles around the hardened peak. The sensation makes her hips rut automatically, pressing downwards into where her hand continues to touch him through his pants. 

An arm wraps around her and before she can dissent, he flips them. Her skirt has already bunched up to her waist, exposing a pair of plain black knickers that catch his attention immediately. Eyes roaming around the bottom half of her body. 

“Lily—can I touch you?” He asks softly. 

“You’re already touching me.” She responds, teasing, but he is too far gone for games, eyes dark and glassy with pure want. 

“No–I mean, here.”

His hand moves to rest just above her pubic bone, fingers angling down towards her center. All amusement falls from her, replaced with a thrashing need to feel him touch just inches lower from where they lay. 

Breath catches in her chest. Suddenly it feels like they are moving in water, slow and steady against each other. She takes his hand and wills it downwards, his fingertips skirting over the fabric of her knickers as they round down in between her thighs. He takes a sharp inhale when he reaches what she already knows: her knickers are completely soaked through. 

“Godric help me.”

He moves to press harder into the fabric, but she holds his hand hovering, just barely away from her center. She reaches between them with her other hand, finding his waistband and tugging. 

“Take these off.”

His eyes grow impossibly wider, tearing his gaze between where his hand is being held and to her face. 

“ I will…in a moment, first I want to–” 

Her grip on his hand tightens and her cheeks blaze. 

“No. I want to touch you too.”

He needs no more convincing. He undoes his pants and she pulls at his waistband, deliberately taking his underpants with them. Upon seeing him fully nude, her jaw slackens. She had seen men naked before, been touched and pleasured to various degrees in the past couple of years, but nothing prepared her for him. Months of sneaking glances, watching how lithe his body moved during quidditch, dreaming about how his body could possibly feel moving inside hers did not even get close to the way he looked now. 

“Lily–if you don’t want to keep going…” He stutters out. Coming out of her trance, she realizes that she had been staring for too long, swept away by the sheer reality of him. 

“C’mere, please.”

He shifts back over her and the feel of his tip slightly wet against her hip makes her surge with giddiness. His hand goes back between her legs, a finger experimenting with pressing down and drawing small circles into the damp area. In turn, she reaches down and takes him with a loose fist, palm sliding easily up and down soft flesh. 

They exchange soft, whimpering sounds, hips pushing to meet hands, open mouths molding together to catch each other’s moans. 

“James–” She lifts her hips and tugs down at her knickers, letting them slip down and off her legs. 

“Absolutely beautiful–” he gasps, watching his finger sink into her. Her body squeezes around him, zapping her with pleasure with every twist and flex of his fingers. The pumping of her hand speeds up, giving more attention to smear some of his precome around his crown. His head collapses down, forehead pressed against hers, moaning deeper with every turn of a hand. 

“I want you inside me,” she whispers, then repeats again. His hand stills, eyes pulling up to look at her with a delirious wonder. 

“Lily—”

“Please, I need you. Unless…unless you don’t…” 

A chaotic laugh explodes from his mouth, doubling him over. He kisses her, his tongue pressing her mouth open so he can speak directly into her. 

“I have never wanted anything more in my entire life.”

Her heart swells. She hitches a leg up, opening herself up wider for him to sidle down against her. He takes hold of his cock, smearing his tip into her folds before finding her entrance and pressing lightly so just the smallest bit of his crown stretches into her. 

“Holy fucking merlin–,” he groans, watching his cock sink further into her, “you feel so good, so tight.”

The way he feels inside of her is unparalleled. His movements are slow and gentle, adorations pouring out of his mouth against her neck, her chest, her cheeks—anywhere he can press kisses while he dips in and out of her, filling her up. 

The heat in her stomach mounts, pooling with adoration and pleasure and something that frighteningly feels already, impossibly, like love. He checks in on her, taking her face with his hand and looking into her eyes, searching and finding just as much happiness and desire as she sees staring back.

“Just like that, love—” he urges her on, helping her hips grind up against him while his thumb teases her clit with tiny circles. 

It feels like she is mounting a steep mountain, almost to the peak where her pleasure surges in a great big orb. He must feel it too because his adorations turn into coaxes, pressing her towards release. 

“That’s it–Oh, Lily I can feel it. I can feel you’re close. Fuck—come for me. Let me feel you come—”

Something inside her snaps and everything disappears besides the soft kisses James presses into her skin and the feel of him still moving inside her. Her whole body clenches and relaxes, an ecstatic pleasure flooding all the way to her toes. His voice breaks through the haze, thin and straining.

“Baby, you feel so good, so impossibly wet—can I—”

She grabs into his hair, pulling him down for a searing kiss. 

“Come inside me, it’s ok. I want to feel you too.” 

He gasps, letting go. A warm sensation fills her and trickles down her thighs, him making his final few thrusts before slowing to a halt and drooping over her. He remains inside of her while their heartbeats slow in tandem, his slowing breath tickling the side of her neck.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispers after a few moments pass. A thumb passes over her cheek to move a stray piece of hair. 

She hesitates, before answering. “I’m thinking about how I don’t want this to end.”

He presses a kiss into her neck and she wraps her arms around him, holding them together as though the moment he gets up they will be back to being just “Potter and Evans:” two friends who laugh and talk but nothing more. 

“Then we won’t let it end,” he murmurs. She opens her eyes to find his staring back, something shining behind the irises. 

It’s consuming—the sensation he creates within her. Even as just mates and study partners she feels it: the desire to take him within herself and keep him there forever. To experience every single thing with him,good or bad, because anything with him by her side seems bearable and worth it. 

“Go out with me.”

He chuckles, hearing the words he has thrown at her for years being finally sent back like karma. His face bursts with pure unfiltered joy and he swoops down to press his lips to hers, his happiness contagious. 

“Gladly—anything you want, Evans.” He says between kisses. Still inside her, she can feel him start to harden again, impossibly rebounding by the force of sheer elation alone. 

“Ah—James.”

He kisses his way down to her chest, a smile still caked onto his face as she squirms under him, the slick feel of him moving again inside her gaining momentum. It’s impossible for her not to smile too and the feeling from before reappears: not just pleasure, but perhaps already love. It explodes from her and she giggles, just as ready as he is to tangle together again. 

“But I have to warn you,” he says, eyes glinting as he presses their foreheads back together, “I don’t think I’m ever going to want us to leave this bed. Not for Hogsmeade, not for the world.”

[tuiandkaea]

Wiled Life ep 5 fanfiction

I wrote a angsty Scarian fic, it's also on Ao3. Here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60660292/chapters/154893115

Scar was looking through his chests when he heard Ren.

“Scar! Scar!”

“Yeah?”

“I have a question?”

“Okay, what is it?”

“What flowers did you give Grian as a peace offering in 3rd Life?”

“Oh” Scar chuckled. “Haha I know this question.” He said it with a slight smile, but he was holding back tears. He remembered it, the desert, the flowers. When Grian cared about him.

Ren laughed with him, but Scar could tell he was nervous, he knew Scar and Grian had broken up, but know one knew why.

“If there's anything with a lilac and a poppy, that’s the one.”

“Yeah, yeah, two flowers.”

“Yeah, I think it’s a lilac and a poppy.” Think? He knows. Knows the smell of them, the look, the feel, the memories. “Let's go check just to be sure.” He said.

Scar and Ren were walking back to his and Martyn's base. There was an awkward silence. Scar knew Ren didn’t want to talk about Grian in front of him.

“You know, this is so fun.” Scar said, “these flowers all tie back to Secret Life, my outfit.”

“I saw Grian had them in his hair in 3rd Life.”

“Yeah, he did…” Scar trailed off. The memories of him came back. Grian standing in the sand, the flowers in his light brown hair, his smile. He felt tears in his eyes.

“You good man?” Ren asked.

Scar hadn’t realized how long he’d been silent. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Ren looked concerned. “You don’t look fine?”

“We should get a move on, you don’t want Martyn to run out of time.” Scar said, avoiding his question.

“Yup, you’re right.” Ren said.

They reached Martyn.

“Hey! Martyn!” Ren yelled.

“What’s the answer!!? What’s the answer!?”

“Lilac and poppy.”

“Right, okay.” Martyn kicked the first answer on the screen. “It’s right!”

“Oh that’s good.” Ren said.

“Yeah, well I should be off, glad you got it right.” Scar said.

“Yeah thanks man!” Martyn said. “Here take a diamond.”

He tossed Scar a diamond, Scar caught it. “Thank you.”

Martyn looked at Scar more intently, now taking in his full appearance. “You good Scar?”

“What-oh yeah, I’m great.”

“You look…” Realization and hit Martyn. “Is this about the question? About Grian and all that?”

Scar felt his heart beat faster. He didn’t want to have this conversation, and didn't want Martyn of a people to pity him. “Oh, would you look at that, Scott’s burning down your tree.”

“W-what?!” Martyn said, turning to look at Scott.

Scar then turned and walked away.

He was walking on the bridge to Etho, Bdubs and Tangos base, when he saw Etho.

“Oh, look what you did.”

“What? Oh.” He realized that Etho thought he burned Martyn’s and Ren’s house. “It wasn’t me this time.”

“Oh really.” Etho asked with a chuckle.

“I know it looks bad, but it wasn’t me, it was Scott.” Now it really looked bad. Scott burn something down? Not Scar.

“Oh my Scar! Why would you do that?!” Bdubs asked, as he came on the bridge, looking at the burning house.

“It wasn’t me, okay, I just want to go home.” The sadness Scar’s tried to hide since Ren asked him that question, came out as he said the last few words. And Etho and Bdubs caught it.

“Scar? Are you okay?” Etho asked gently.

Scar didn’t trust himself to talk, so he nodded in answer.

“Are you sure?” Bdubs asked.

Scar couldn’t deal with this, so he took out an ender pearl and threw it. He teleported over to the start of the stars up to his base.

Scar was sitting in between the bamboo, breathing heavily, trying to calm down.

He wasn’t prepared for Ren to ask him that question. Why couldn’t he have just asked Grian?

He was grateful that his friends instantly knew something was wrong with him, but also not. He didn’t want them to know how much pain he was in, or why he and Grian broke up.

So Scar cried where only the bamboo could hear him. Or so he thought.

“Hey Scar! I’ve been looking for you, Martyn, Etho and-” Scott stopped speaking as Scar turned to him. “What happened?”

Scar looked down, wiping his tears away with his sleeve. “Nothing.”

“Scar, you’ve been crying.”

“Over something stupid, so it’s nothing.”

“Scar. I know you, you don’t cry over nothing. What is it?”

Scar didn’t say anything.

“Martyn, Ren, Etho and Bdubs said that you were acting odd. Martyn said that he had a question that might have upset you?”

Scar looked at Scott, then saw someone walking over. Martyn.

“Scar. Are you okay?” Martyn asked.

“Fine.”

“No he’s not. I came here and he was crying.” Scott informed Martyn.

“Wow, just outing me there Scott.” Scar said.

“Scar.” Martyn began, “I’m sorry for sending Ren out to ask you that question. I didn’t think about it, and I’m so sorry.”

“Well I’m fine. So you have nothing to apologize for.” Scar said, with a soft smile.

“Yes I do. I can see that it’s hurt you.”

“It hasn’t. And it wont. Because I’m fine. I’m fine.” Scar found that he was trying to convince himself more than Scott and Martyn. Trying to lie, tell himself that he wasn’t crying two seconds ago, over some flowers. Over him. Over what he did.

“Scar…you’re not fine.” Scott began. “What happened to you two?”

Martyn looked at Scott in disbelief.

“We broke up.” Scar said simply.

“I know that. I want to know why? You two loved each other.”

Grian didn’t love him. At least not enough to care for Scar’s feelings. “Some people fall out of love.”

“But you didn’t, Scar.” Martyn said. “You still love him.”

“I don’t.”

“Scar, what truly happened?” Scott asked.

Scar looked at the ground in front of him. “Nothing happened. We just broke up okay. That happens. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.” Again he was telling himself more than them. “I’m fine.” Scar felt tears fall down his face. “I’m fine.” He tucked his knees closer to his chest. “Please, be fine.” He told himself.

“Scar…” Scott bent down besieged him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not fine.”

Scar told them how he and Grian broke up. But he left out the real reason it ended, that Grian cheated. While Scar talked Scott said how much Grian didn’t deserve him, Martyn on the other hand, sat on a rock and stared at the grass, not saying a word.

“I never knew.” Scott said.

“Well, he fooled me too.” Scar replied, with a weak simile.

“Why would he hurt you?” Martyn asked, “why would he do this to you?”

“I don’t know.” Scar said. “I guess that’s just what toxic people do.” Scar looked out at the moon, now rising. “You guys should get back home, it’s getting dark.”

“We’re not leaving you Scar.” Scott said.

“I’ve had to deal with this for a long time, I’ll be okay.”

Scott nodded and got up, Martyn got up too. “Call us if you need anything.” Martyn said.

“Got it.”

They left.

Scar got up and lay down on his pink bed. Jimmy and Lizzy should be back soon. He heard someone walking over.

“Hey Lizz, how was y-” Scar stopped speaking as he turned over and saw Grian. “What do you want?” Scar asked, his voice low.

“To talk to you.”

Scar got out of the bed. “There's nothing to talk about.”

“Why did Scott and Martyn look at me like I killed someone two seconds ago.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does, Scar. What did you tell them?”

“I told them the truth about us.”

“Why the hell would you do that to me?!” Grian shouted.

“You don’t get to be angry here.” Scar said his voice low, as he stepped towards Grian. “You don’t deserve to be anything but sorry, sorry for what you’ve done to me. For breaking my heart.”

“You didn’t have to tell them that I cheated.”

“I didn’t tell them.”

“Oh, thank goodness. Big B’s okay then.” Grian said, relieved.

Scar felt sick. Grian was worried about that man he cheated on Scar with. Happy that he was okay. “You disgust me. You care about him more.”

“Well we’re not together, Scar.”

“We were in Double Life. You know, I actually believed that you loved me once. But you never did, you killed me in 3rd Life, Last Life you left me, cheated on me in Double Life, killed me again in Limited Life, and you knew my task in Secret Life, you knew when you came to me asking if we could team together, that I had to deny the one thing I’ve wanted since that desert. since something I thought we had. But you never loved me. Did you?”

“I don’t know.” Grian whispered.

“You are just like them, the Watchers. You hurt people. And I’m done. I don’t care who knows what you did to me, I’m done with you.”

Grian’s eyes widened, at realization at what he meant. “Scar, wait, plea-”

“Don’t Grian!” Scar cut him off. “Don’t try and beg, you brought this upon yourself. Just leave.”

Grain just stared at him. “Scar I-”

“I said leave!” Scar shouted at him.

Grian flinched. Then turned around and left.

As soon as he was gone, Scar sat on the ground and cried. He didn’t want to see Grian ever again. Didn’t want to hurt because of him.

[38livesalone-has3cats]

Too Early-- Konig(cod) x reader SMUT

a/n: omg omg hi !!!! this is my first smut ever so pls be nice i'm doing my best !😭😭😭 pls send in requests i need ideas and whatnot(should i make a masterlist/what fandoms i'll write for ??)

summary: the morning after Konig comes home from deployment, you wake up in bed alone >:(

**reader is also in the military and has a working dog named percy ! he's mentioned like twice**

word count: 3.3k

tags/tw: smut, basically porn w very little plot, switch!konig + switch!reader, reader has fem body parts, oral(m and f receiving), face-sitting, 69, p-in-v sex, unprotected sex, light choking, mating press

You wake with a frustrated huff.

The bed around you is empty and cold, no Konig(your lovely fiancée), and no Percy(your perfect four-legged partner). You sit up and rub your eyes with a loud yawn.

You can hear your dog's nails on the tile as he sprints towards the bedroom. You let out a sleepy chuckle as you watch him launch himself onto the bed and climb up onto you. “Oh- god-” You laugh, petting and roughhousing with the dog for a bit. After that, you get up and pull on some shorts before stretching and letting Percy lead you to the kitchen- where Konig is standing and making some breakfast. He looks up at the sound of your footsteps and turns down the music he had playing.

“Ah, guten morgen, mein shatz.” He offers you a small smile.

“Good morning.” You huff, wrapping your arms around his waist and shoving your face into his back. Konig doesn’t react, continuing to use the stove. “What is the matter?” He asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “You always wake up so early.” You complain, no real malice behind it. He simply chuckles. “Are you hungry?” He offers as he turns off the stove. “What’d you make?” You let him go and hop up on the counter. “Just some eggs and bacon.” He shrugs. He puts everything on a big plate before setting it down and turning back to you. “You hungry?” He repeats, putting his hands on either side of you on the counter.

“Not yet,” You hum, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I jus’ woke up, unlike someone.” You tease, bumping your nose against his. Konig lets out a huff and brings his hands up to your lower back, where his fingers flex and trace shapes into your shirt(his shirt). “Maybe next time I’ll wake you up instead of sneaking out of bed to make you breakfast like a good verlobten.” He pouts, his breaths mingling with yours as he speaks. “Nooo-” You try to shake your head but he presses his lips firmly to yours, effectively shutting you up.

You make a noise against his lips as one of his hands cups the back of your head, the other gripping at your hip. You let out a breathy laugh when he pulls back for air, “I love you.” You sigh, tangling your fingers through his long hair, pulling out the little hair tie to release his auburn locks.

“I love you,” He parrots, letting his head fall down to your shoulder, “I missed you.” He noses along your neck and you laugh again, bringing your hands to his chest to push him away. “Konig! That tickles.” You continue to laugh as he lifts his head up, a big grin on his face.

“I am just having my fun, liebling.” He says, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Mmm, you’re having too much fun- it’s too early.” You manage to get out between kisses. “No such thing.” He says before moving his head down to mouth at your jaw and neck. “I’m barely even awake.” You murmur, your hands now gripping his shoulders. One of his hands suddenly reaches between your thighs and rubs his fingers along your clothed core, making you jump away from the sudden intrusion. “You feel awake to me.” He says simply, a smug look on his face.

“Konig.” You mean to say it in a chastising way but it comes out more as a whine. “Yes?” He mumbles, shoving his face in your chest, nosing the valley of your breasts over your shirt. His fingers press harder against you and you shift your hips forward slightly, your mouth dropping open.

He starts tracing slow circles over your clothed clit and you grab the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his long hair. “I want to taste you.” His voice is low, needy.

“Please.” You let one of your hands tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. That’s all he needs; he makes a pleased sound and pulls back just to pull your shorts and underwear down your legs. You lift your hips slightly to make it easier and he drops to his knees, letting the clothing fall to the floor.

Suddenly, Percy is headbutting Konig and trying to play- sending the 6 '10 man stumbling onto his ass. You let out a laugh as Konig regains his balance, “Lauf.” You instruct the dog through your giggles and he runs out the doggie-door to the backyard.

Konig lets out a huff, ignoring the ruined tension in the room; he grabs one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder before pulling you to the edge of the counter. “Hey- easy-” You grip onto the counter to prevent yourself from slipping off. “I am getting impatient.” He says, a pout on his face as he presses kisses on your inner knee.

“I can see that- oh, f-fuck-” You barely get the sentence out before Konig is shoving his face between your legs. Your body jolts away from him on instinct, but he keeps his firm hold on your thighs, keeping you close so he can lap at your clit. Konig grumbles as you close your thighs around his head; he simply turns to nip at the soft flesh there and you yank them apart. He quickly latches back onto his target and you let out a high-pitched whine, digging your heel into his back to push him closer. “Konig- holy shit!” You cry out, letting your head fall back and exposing your neck.

Konig takes the opportunity of you looking away to shove a finger inside your hole. You gasp, straightening up and reaching down to grip his hair with one hand. He curls his finger once, twice, then inserts two more- all while his tongue continues its work on your bundle of nerves. 

It’s all becoming too much, and you pant wildly while your heels continue to press into Konig’s back- needing more, more, more. Konig lets out a chuckle against you and you groan, “Come on, Konig, please-!” He knows what he’s doing, the asshole. Finally, he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of you, massaging your g-spot as he does. You let out a loud, high-pitched whine and he doubles down on your clit, sending you quickly tumbling over the edge.

Your fingers pull and yank at his hair while your thighs tremble around his head as you ride out the waves, slowly coming down as his lapping subsides. He breaks away, looking up at you with a goofy grin, the bottom half of his face shiny with your juices. “I swear, you taste even better than I remember.” He says excitedly, practically giggling.

You laugh along with him breathlessly, pushing on his shoulders as he climbs up and tries to kiss you. “S-stop! You’re all gross!” You laugh, your shaky arms unable to hold him back as he rubs his cheek against yours. You let out a loud yelp, groaning at the wet feeling on your face. “You’re so gross!” You pout, wiping your face with the t-shirt you're wearing.

“I think we have gotten much more “gross” before, have we not?” Konig raises an eyebrow, a goofy smirk on his face; his accent and what he’s implying sends another rush of arousal straight between your legs. You cringe at his words as he scoops you up, his hands under your thighs- your bare core brushing against the front of his sweatpants.

“Would you like to continue this here on the counter or in our bed?” He asks, but he’s already walking towards your shared room. “You’re not really giving me a choice.” You huff, letting out a laugh as he tosses you onto the bed. “I like it here more.” Konig shrugs simply, reaching to pull his shirt over his head as you scoot toward the edge of the bed, grabbing at his waistband.

Konig runs his large hand through your hair as you pull his sweats and boxers down in one go, exposing his long, hard length to your eager eyes. 

Konig takes a deep breath in as you pump his cock a few times, watching precum start to leak from his pretty red tip. “Scheiße.” He mutters, tugging on the roots of your hair. You grin up at him before taking him in your mouth.

You focus on the head for a few moments, swirling your tongue around and then suddenly taking him deeper. He hits the back of your throat and your nose hits the patch of hair that rests above the base of his cock. Konig makes a strangled noise, his head falling back as he groans. “H-ah, you are feeling- you feel so good, engel.” He pants, starting to match the bobbing of your head with small, careful thrusts of his hips.

He knows how big he is-he isn’t stupid- so he knows to be more careful during oral- no matter how often you whine and tell him it’s okay. 

Konig’s grip on your hair tightens and his panting turns to whines and whimpers. “Ah, gott, you must stop. Ah- I am going to come, bitte- I cannot take it-” He’s frantically begging, his cock twitching with the effort to keep himself from cumming.

You pull off his cock for a moment, looking up at him with a smug smile- Konig whines, but he’s relieved. “Thank you, danke, liebling.” He pants, taking a moment to wipe the drool from your chin with his thumb. “I wanted to taste you.” You pout, and he chuckles, tilting your chin up as he leans down.

You meet him halfway, rising off your hands as his mouth meets yours. You groan into his mouth as his tongue forces its way into your eager one, you reach up to grab onto his pecs- groping and tweaking at his nipples. He chuckles against your mouth, sending a fresh wave of arousal down between your legs.

“You are so needy today, shatz. What do I do with you?” He murmurs as you playfully nip at his bottom lip. “I think you should lay down and let me have some fun.” You suggest, letting your mouth continue to travel down his jaw and neck.

The air in the room shifts. “Should I?” Konig hums- testing the waters. His fingers tighten around your waist significantly as you dig your teeth into his neck. 

“Go on.” You murmur, pressing a smooch over the bite to soothe it. Konig makes a small noise of content, nodding as he moves away from you to lay down comfortably on his back. “You comfy?” You ask, your hands finding their way to his thighs where they squeeze and grope at the taut muscles there. “Mhm, yes schatz.” He agrees quickly, moving to sit up on his elbows so he can watch you.

You open your mouth, letting a glob of spit fall onto the head of his cock. Konig inhales sharply, and you watch his cock twitch with a playful grin on your face. “Keep your hands at your sides and don’t move or I’ll stop, okay?” You look up to meet his eyes and he nods, “Ja, yes- okay.” He moves his arms to his sides and lays flat on his back. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock and squeeze it a few times to watch how his body reacts. His abs tremble slightly as he grows more desperate. 

You pull your hand away from his cock and watch as he closes his eyes and takes in a deep inhale. “Be good for me, alright?” You hum, crawling up the bed so you can swing your leg over his face so you're straddling him.

“Scheiße, can I hold you, engel?” Konig asks quickly, his breath fanning against your core. The feeling makes you clench around nothing, and you decide to be nice to him. “Alright, fine.” You agree, and his hands immediately shoot up to grip your thighs. They swiftly start to slide up and grope any part of your body he can reach as he waits for you to take a seat.

You intertwine your fingers with his, stopping his hands from moving any further; “Keep ‘em here or they’re going by your sides.” You put his hands on the tops of your thighs, where he experimentally squeezes a few times. “Yes, schatz.” He murmurs.

“You know the rules.” You hum, lowering yourself onto his face before he can mumble a response. He gets right to work, lapping at your pussy eagerly. 

Konig must not be in the mood to be punished today, because he does exactly as you ask of him- his hands don’t move from their spot, his hips stay glued to the bed, and he doesn’t tease. He steadily works you to your climax, his tongue fucking into your hole as he tilts his chin up to press it against your clit.

The friction of his stubble and the feeling of his tongue has your thighs trembling and you press your hips down harder against his face. 

You unabashedly moan as you continue to grind onto his face, his tongue making little shapes over your puffy clit. “So good- you’re so good, Konig.” You whine, leaning forward to grab at his hard member. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock, making him cry out against your core.

You bob your head quickly up and down his cock, trying to make him come as quickly as possible. “Fuck- fuck, schatz.” Konig’s deep voice is muffled by your core as he starts to unravel. 

You grip onto his thighs, massaging and lightly scratching at them as you hollow your cheeks. Tears fill your eyes at the stimulation on your clit and the fullness of your throat. You pull off of him for a moment to catch your breath, stroking his cock with your hand as you pant; “I’m close, you wanna cum with me? Hmm?” You ask, keeping up your brutal pace with your hand.

He mumbles something you can’t quite make out, but you can feel him nodding against you, and he continues to eat you out with a newfound fervor. You figure that’s good enough of an answer, so you take him back into your mouth with a groan- making quick work to bring him to the edge again.

You don’t even have time to warn him before you're cumming hard against his face. You barely notice the way your juices drip down his face onto his neck and the sheets below him because his warm seed shoots down your throat. You choke for a moment before you swallow, pulling off of Konigs cock to cough and catch your breath.

Konig pays no mind to you or the fact that he just came, he licks up any juices on your thighs and cleans up your pussy until you're whining at the overstimulation. When you've had enough, you clamber off of him, letting yourself lay on your back as you come down from the high.

Konig sits up to look down at you, a dopey grin on his face. “Thank you, mein schatz.” He murmurs, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer as the kiss quickly becomes more heated.

“I love you.” You manage to get out between the rough prodding of his tongue. “I love you.” He pants, his eyebrows furrowing as he nips and sucks on your jaw.

“Can I take you? Please, liebling.” He whines against your skin and you trail your fingers through his long hair. “Please.” You nod eagerly, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull his hips against your own. He wastes no time in lining himself up with your entrance; immediately shoving himself completely inside with a relieved sigh. You moan out, digging your nails into the muscles of his shoulders as you recover from the sudden intrusion.

“Konig.” You grumble in warning and he quickly drops his head into the crook of your neck, letting you adjust to his size. “Sorry- sorry, engel. You just feel so good. So good, mein engel.” He rambles, mouthing at your neck as he waits for the okay to continue. 

 He holds himself up on his elbows, his fingers playing at the skin of your sides that he can reach. You run your fingers up and down his shoulder blades as you make him wait a little longer. You clench around him a few times, making him whine loudly in your ear, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly.

“Please, liebling- let me make you feel good.” He begs, running his teeth along the side of your neck, where he bites softly every so often. 

“Okay, go ahead, Ko- fuck-!” You can’t get the words out before he’s slamming into you at a brutal pace, keeping his forehead pressed to your shoulder.

You cry out, one of your hands grabs at his hair while the other grips his bicep for dear life. “A-ah, schatz, you feel so gut. Y-you- du gehörst zu mir.” He continues to ramble as he desperately rams his cock into you. “Konig, please-” You whine, pulling his face to yours to press your lips to his.

The kiss quickly devolves and Konig pulls back so he can grab your leg at the back of your knee, pressing it to your chest so he can press deeper inside you. You throw your head back and moan; Konig is quick to wrap his free hand around your exposed throat. 

He squeezes lightly a few times, the sensation sending a rush of fresh arousal between your legs. “G-god, you’re so good for me, Konig. Always make me feel so good.” You sigh, brushing some of his stray hairs from his sweaty forehead.

Your words seem to send a burst of energy through him; he pulls your ankles up onto his shoulders and puts his hands on either side of your head to pound into you harder. The sound of skin slapping is quickly covered by the sound of your combined moans as you two barrel towards your climaxes. “I only want to be g-good for you- verdammt.” Konig whimpers against your skin as he drops his head against you- focusing solely on slamming his hips into yours.

“Please, let me cum, engel. Ich brauche es- I’ve been good.” He continues, one of his hands slipping between your bodies to messily rub your puffy clit.

You can barely think- let alone speak- so Konig continues begging and whining against your skin as you get closer and closer to your release.

You realize he’s waiting for you to answer him so you try to hold back your orgasm to reply to him; “I- shit, Konig-! Yes, yes, yes- cum for me, please. I’m so close.” You babble incoherently, grabbing his wrist to keep him rubbing at your needy clit. “F-fuck-!” Konig cries out loudly, your words sending him tumbling into his climax. The warmth of his cum, his steady thrusts, and his harsh fingers on your bundle of nerves send you right over the edge after him.

Konig works the both of you through your orgasms before collapsing next to you with a small smile on his face. 

“I love you, mein liebling.” He murmurs, pressing kisses to your cheek as he patiently waits for you to come down from your high. “I love you, Konig. Thank you, baby. You did so well.” You murmur, brushing some of his hair behind his ear. He seems to grow brighter at that, his smile widening as he leans forward to nip at your bottom lip. “You wanna go get me a rag so I can clean up?” You hum, pressing your lips against his a few times before he can answer. 

“You think I am done with you, schatz?” The wild look in his eyes and that stupid grin have a familiar burn growing deep in your belly.

--

ITS FINALLY DONE !!!

holy shit this has taken me literal months to write i'm so sorry😭😭 as i mentioned before this is my first smut so it was so awkward for me LMAO hopefully it'll get easier in the future

thank you for reading !!!! <3

[silverynight]

Feral

When the kakushi arrive at the scene, it's still chaos; the parts of the demon left are disintegrating under the sunlight.

There's a baby, a little pup secured on a rock and a very feral omega, making sure nobody touches them.

They have never seen Kamado Tanjirou like that before; his eyes are white, but he's not acting sweet and confused like the other times his inner omega takes control of him.

"Tanjirou-san?" One of them tries, getting closer, but the omega growls and bares his teeth as he moves right in front of the pup.

He's protecting the baby.

"You're hurt. We just want to help!" Another kakushi says, just to be snarled at by the redhead.

He's bleeding.

"We won't touch the pup!"

Tanjirou growls at the mention of the pup; he takes the little one in his arms, without looking away from any of them, and nuzzles against the tip of the baby's nose, making him giggle.

They don't know what to do or how long the feral state is going to last; Tanjirou is a very strong slayer, there's no way any of them can manage to tie him up and take him to the butterfly estate.

How do they make him go back to normal?

"Nice! You got rid of the thing with your bare hands, huh?" Despite being a tall and strong alpha, Shinazugawa doesn't make any sound until he speaks. He startles a few kakushi because of that.

Tanjirou answers with a growl and the wind hashira grins in response.

He looks like he's enjoying this.

"He's–"

"I know he's feral," the white haired alpha cuts the kakushi off. "It's okay. I'll take care of this."

The kakushi don't like where this is going, but it's not like they have any other choice.

What surprises them is that he leaves his katana on the ground, but flexes his knees like he's about to jump; his hands are curled slightly like he's ready to use them.

"If any of you touches my sword, I'll kill you."

The omega notices the change in the hashira's demeanor, and he snarls as a warning. He leaves the pup back on the rock and prepares to attack the alpha.

Tanjirou doesn't recognize Shinazugawa, although they're not sure if it would change a lot if he did; rumor has it those two had a long talk and a fight a few weeks ago and now they're kinda friendly towards one another, but they're not sure if that's true.

Just a month ago, Shinazugawa seemed to hate having the omega around.

"Tanjirou!" The alpha smirks. "Show me what you're capable of!"

And then he jumps at the omega who immediately attacks back. Their "fight" is not very difficult to follow, even for the kakushi around; they're not using breathing techniques or anything, mostly because Tanjirou's rational thoughts are gone and they have realized that Shinazugawa doesn't want to hurt him.

He's just trying to pin the omega to the ground, making him submit, but it's quite a challenge considering Tanjirou's inner omega probably believes he's protecting his pup.

However, Shinazugawa is still a hashira and a prime alpha.

Finally, the wind hashira gets the omega pinned against the ground, and it looks like the fight is almost over when the baby starts crying.

They have no idea where Tanjirou gets his energy from, but he growls again before headbutting the alpha above him.

Shinazugawa ends up on the ground too and even though there's a clear red mark on his forehead now; he grins like he's having the best time of his life.

Tanjirou rises from the ground with a jump, but something happens then... he blinks a couple of times before freezing on his spot.

Then the kakushi notice the protective scent the alpha is releasing.

"What... happened?"

Everyone around releases the breath they were holding before they notice Tanjirou's pretty eyes are no longer white, but their usual shiny red.

However, Tanjirou is still a very caring omega who loves taking care of little ones so the first thing he does is to check on the crying pup. He cradles the baby in his arms, nuzzles against their face, and hums a lullaby for them.

"Is he alright?" A kakushi asks.

Tanjirou nods, looking at the pup with so much love already, anyone would think they're his.

"She's fine, just hungry."

It's a little girl then.

That's when Tanjirou notices that everyone has recoiled significantly, right before he sees Shinazugawa rising from the ground.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt any of you?"

The kakushi assure him he didn't, and the wind hashira just laughs.

"Like you could do something like that," the alpha snorts, red mark visible on his forehead.

Tanjirou notices it too, but knows Shinazugawa well enough not to make a comment about it.

"Thanks for helping me snap out of it," the omega mumbles instead, a little bit embarrassed.

"It was my pleasure," the alpha smirks, and they can tell he absolutely means every single word.

"What happened, Tanjirou-san?"

The omega presses a kiss to the pup's forehead that makes her giggle; he pulls her against his chest like he wants to protect her from a non-existent threat or perhaps just the memory of it.

"Wait, are you hurt? Let us–"

"That's not his blood," Shinazugawa cuts the kakushi off, still smiling and looking at the omega like he's the most beautiful thing in the world at the moment.

"I arrived too late," Tanjirou mumbles then, face twisting with guilt and regret, even though everyone around is sure none of what happened is his fault. "The demon had killed this little one's entire family, and when I saw him trying to reach for her, I completely lost it. I... I don't remember the rest that well..."

Judging by what they found when they arrived, it was a brutal fight. The demon probably suffered quite a lot.

"I think we can find her a home..."

Tanjirou takes a step away from the kakushi who says that, before pressing the little one protectively against his chest.

His scent changes slightly and they just know that the omega got attached to her.

"I'm going to keep her," Tanjirou says, almost fiercely, like he's daring them to tell him not to.

Nobody does that; they like the omega too much to say something that could hurt him.

"I'll help you take care of her," Shinazugawa says then, surprising everyone; he doesn't seem the type to have fatherly instincts, but he's still releasing that protective scent from earlier. So maybe he does have those instincts after all.

"Really?" Tanjirou blinks in surprise, but he doesn't look opposed to the idea. He even lets the alpha get closer to the pup.

Shinazugawa reaches out, trying to touch the pup's forehead with his fingers when she moves her tiny hand and wraps it around his pinky.

The alpha looks almost in shock, but he doesn't move his hand away.

"She likes you!" Tanjirou says, absolutely pleased. His scent turns really sweet out of the sudden; he seems happy with the alpha, and when Shinazugawa realizes that, he lets out a loud alpha purr.

"You know you should... I mean, I think it'd be better for her if we smell like mates," the wind hashira says after a while, unable to hide the attraction he feels for the omega.

But of course, Tanjirou doesn't notice.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah..." Shinazugawa clears his throat, turning slightly pink for a moment. "At least let me scent you."

The omega nods and tilts his head slightly to the side, exposing his beautiful throat.

Shinazugawa stares at it for a moment; his lips part in awe, and they all can see his sharp teeth. For a second, it looks like the temptation to bite and mark is too strong, but the alpha manages to control himself before he nuzzles against Tanjirou's neck.

They both purr when their scents finally mingle.

Tanjirou still smells good, even though there's another scent surrounding him, like a neon sign they have only seen in the Red light district, that tells other alphas to back off if they don't want to get teared apart.

Shinazugawa looks way too pleased.

"Come on, let's get this little one to the butterfly estate," the alpha says as he carries Tanjirou in his arms. "So you can feed our pup."

The omega blushes at his words, but nods and doesn't even try to walk on his own; he must be tired or perhaps he feels more safe in the alpha's arms since he's busy carrying the pup.

Maybe it's both.

"Those two are going to end up mating, right?" A girl asks her fellow kakushi.

"It certainly looks like it."

Which means there's going to be trouble because Shinazugawa looks like the possessive type and Tanjirou is way too popular among alphas.

Although they're sure the baby is going to be very happy with her new parents.

***

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