#wooden bow tie

[tonycries]

A Million Dollar Baby! - N.K.

Synopsis. Turns out, rent can be paid in much more than one way.

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, landlord! Nanami (kinda), oraI (male + fem), cúmplay, reader’s a tease, unprotected, creampíe, down bad FERAL Nanami, spítting, bréeding, messing up his glasses, pantý-stealing, he’s sweet but fúcks so MEAN, mentions of Higuruma, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.8k (wild)

A/N. Decided it was high time I feed my Nanami girlies hehe.

“Just get the money and go.” Nanami deadpans, like a mantra. Giving a rapt knock on your apartment door, “I swear m’making him buy me lunch for this.”

Now, it wasn’t that Nanami was exactly upset about taking over Higuruma’s landlord duties for the day - no, in fact, he was the first one at his friend’s door with a bag of prescription medicine for the other man’s fever and the suggestion to take the day off.

But it was the thought of finally coming face-to-face with you - that mysterious new tenant that’d just moved into his building. The one that had Nanami wondering whether you were really as “sugary sweet n’ irresistible” as Higuruma raved you were. 

Though, he can’t imagine you’d be particularly happy about being woken up at 10am on a Sunday for overdue rent - he certainly wasn’t.

Seriously, he had no idea how Higuruma managed to do this every-

Click!

“Higu- you’re not Higuruma.”

Oh, and suddenly, Nanami gets it.

If he got to see this view, too, then he might just become the landlord himself.

It’s as if you knew you’d be playing with his sanity as soon as you opened that door, dressed in a fitted t-shirt that did absolutely everything to show off every bit of skin he shouldn’t be looking at. Your lips curving into a sinful little smirk when you notice his eyes dancing off that excuse of fabric you call “shorts”.

“Um…” you hum, after a few moments of silence. Leaning against your wooden door frame to give the tall man an appreciative one-over, “Nanami, right? You’re Higuruma’s friend?”

It’s as if the sound of his own name jolts Nanami right back into his senses, clearing his throat as he readjusts his glasses. “Y-yes. Nanami Kento.” And he winces, fuck he’s never stuttered like this. Never, even in the toughest of board meetings. Yet, here he was - making a fool out of himself. 

Knowing he’s completely fucked when your delicious grin only widens, he bows politely, “Apologies for barging in like this, ma’am. But Higuruma’s sick n’ m’here to collect the rent in his place.”

You wave off his formality, introducing yourself. “Ah, of course. I’ve seen you around, always been too nervous to come up and say hello, though.”

And, suddenly, Nanami’s glad you never came up to him to talk out of your own volition, he thinks he’s rather put off embarrassing himself for later. Coughing softly, “I apologize, s’my fault. It was rude of me to not introduce myself first.”

“Well, better late than never, right?” you continue in your smooth tone. Before your eyes catch down his broad shoulders, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the clipboard held between his long, long fingers. “Right- the overdue rent. I swear, Higuruma’s always such a sweetheart, he doesn’t bother to remind me.” Opening your door wider to give Nanami a good look inside your cozy apartment - something forbidden. ���Come in come in, I seem to have lost my wallet somewhere in here though, maybe you can help me find it.”

Oh? 

And Nanami knows this is dangerous. He knows this is much more than his simple plan earlier of just “get the money and go”. He knows that little glint in your eye certainly does not bode well for him as soon as he steps through that door. 

Yet, he answers anyway, “Of course, lead the way.”

Every bit of small talk in your sultry voice has Nanami gulping, loosening his favorite yellow tie while he follows you inside. Averting his eyes from the curve of your shorts, he takes in the neat state of your apartment. 

That is, until-

“Here we are.” you lead him to a towering pile of clothes piled unceremoniously on your tv room couch. Gesturing airily at the mess, “I’m sure I left my wallet in one of my pants, so you can just sit here until I-”

“I’ll do it.” Nanami’s quick answer stuns the both of you momentarily. But before you can resist, he’s shrugging off his jacket, ignoring the heat of your gaze when he bunches up his sleeves to reveal strong, veined forearms. “It’s only fair, since m’bothering you so early.”

You chuckle, “Oh? What a gentleman, we can do it together then, handsome.”

So here he was - sat on your cramped couch, your thighs flush against his, tackling your laundry. This was definitely a far cry from getting the rent and leaving - but, alas, Nanami can’t find it in himself to complain when he neatly folds up your clothes. 

Whereas you were hastily throwing them god-knows-where, hissing, “Where- is it-” 

“Patience.” he’s humming, placing another t-shirt on your coffee table. “Higuruma’s in no hurry, he can barely get out of bed right now.”

You click your tongue in frustration, “But you, Nanami-”

“-are perfectly fine helping you out.” Nanami cuts in, flashing you a gentle smile. Your eyes widen at the sight of a soft dimple at the corner of it. Which makes him tear his gaze from that pretty pout on your lips to turn back to his dwindling half of the pile, “Besides, it would be a shame if such a nice apartment was messed up by- by-”

Fuck. 

Was that what he thought it was?

His fingers tremble, looking so fucking big wrapped around that those tiny strings of hot pink. Sinful. Obscene. Shit, if he tried he could just rip it to pieces with his bare hands right now - even if you’d been wearing it.

“Hm?” you’re gasping at the sight of the man before you, body stiff, ears a guilty red, gaze hardening at where he was holding onto one of your panties. Oh, shit. You pluck the offending piece of material from his hands, “Oh- whoops. Um- that can’t really be folded.” Throwing a wink at the flustered man - and the lingerie right back at him. “Evidently.”

It was all too much for Nanami, and he’s bringing a hand up to cover his blush - before ripping it off like it burned when he realized it was the same hand he held your panties with. 

Somehow, he manages to choke out, “Maybe- maybe we should try looking somewhere else.”

And it was true - the few messy clothes now leftover (and…Nanami couldn’t forget, your underwear) didn’t show any signs of hiding your wallet. 

“If you say so~” you muse, getting up from your seat - only to get down on your knees. Right in front of Nanami’s manspread legs. 

“Wh-what are you-”

“Under the couch.” you interrupt, enjoying this way too fucking much for the poor man’s sanity as you flash him a cheeky grin. And he smacks himself mentally for letting his imagination be toyed by your teasing whims. “I might’ve dropped it under the couch, so won’t you be a dear and help lift it while I look?”

He couldn’t get up fast enough, almost stumbling over his long legs to crouch down beside you - just anywhere away from this scandalous position. “Ready?” Nanami rasps, biceps bulging tight against his button-up when he easily tilts over your couch. 

“More than.” you take a second longer to admire him before going back to your mission.

Which - whatever’s left of the rational part of Nanami’s brain really thinks might just be to drive him insane instead finding that fucking- what was it- wallet? 

“Hmmm seems it’s not here either, right, Ken?” He doesn’t know what he’s reeling at more - the fact that you used his first fucking name or the way you were arched so teasingly like that. On your knees, spine curving into a delicious little bend that has the crotch of his pants growing just a bit tighter. And- shit he was wrong. So, so wrong. Because those weren’t a sinful pair of shorts like he’d initially thought after all, instead, they were more like underwear. Flimsy and thin, bunching up perfectly at the crease of your hips. 

You were captivating. 

At his heavy silence, you bat your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Oh? Was it the name? Sorry, Nanami, you’ve just helped me so much that it ah- slipped out. I won’t do it again.”

“No.” he grits out, the both of you surprised by the ragged hitch in his answer. Already so disgustingly missing the sound of his first name rolling off your tongue. “I’d like it if you called me that- ‘Ken’ that is, if you want.”

“Well then, Ken.” you brush up unnecessarily against his sculpted body as you move to get up and dust yourself down. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my wallet’s not down there.”

Shit, he thinks, looking down at the empty spot of carpeted floor for the first time. You little tease, you knew what you were doing. 

Grinning unabashedly as you tug on his arm, “Come on! There’s one more place to look.”

As you pulled him along to the kitchen, Nanami had held out the hope that maybe - just maybe - this would be an actual attempt at finally paying off your overdue rent. Maybe he could walk out of this unscathed and holding onto whatever’s left of his dignity (and lacking the raging boner that was threatening against his slacks right now).

But every feeble hope of that was thrown out the window the moment you instructed him to hold the rickety, certainly unsafe chair propped up in front of your counter steady. 

“I swear I must’ve left it somewhere up there.” you grumble. Not wasting a moment before climbing onto it and rifling on top of your high cabinets. “No harm in trying, right?”

He gulps, palms getting sweaty on the wooden back of the chair with the effort to keep it still. “Are you sure you left it on top of there?”

“Huh? Yes yes, of course.” you answer absentmindedly. Your shirt snagging on your arms as you raise them even higher, “Think you can see something from down there?”

If Nanami could see the top of your shelves, then he didn’t want to find out - not when one glance upwards blessed him with a forbidden glimpse right up your t-shirt. All it took was a flash of skin before he was hit with the realization that you weren’t wearing a bra. 

“Ken~”

“Fuck!” he breathes, when he looks up involuntarily at the sound of his name. Face burning when you raise a brow, “U-um, m’not sure.” 

Yeah, he sure could see something - hell, he wanted to see more. 

He urgently swipes at the sweat slowly beading at his forehead, immediately regretting his actions when the chair tips ever-so-slightly. “Shit, I apologize, n’ I also apologize for what I’m about to do-” He gasps over your soft yelp, before wrapping two warm hands around the small of your waist. Searing. Soft. Planting you softly on the firm floor like some lil’ ragdoll, “-but I can’t let you put yourself in danger this way.”

Before you know it, you’re back in the safety of the ground. Stood right in front of a determined Nanami as he cranes his head up in your stuffy kitchen, backed up against the counter as he takes over looking for your wallet. 

“Let me, instead.” he grunts. 

But oh even with how genius he thought it was to look instead - even with how he stopped himself from looking at that sinful little slice of heaven - Nanami Kento had another problem. 

A problem that presented itself in the way that your body was pressed flush against his muscled chest, two of your thighs straddling his thick ones. Caged perfectly against him, exactly in the way he shouldn’t have been imagining - but did, anyway. And shit if he angled his body just right he could feel the heat of your core - the way your eager front was drawing in closer. 

“Ah-” he grunts when your soft palm glides lightly across his pecs. Jaw clenching while he tries to blink his hazy eyes back into the glaringly empty top of your cabinets, “My apologies, seems uh- your wallet isn’t- here-” 

Each word is wrenching out of his pretty, worry-bitten lips, a ragged gasp with every accidental brush of the pads of your fingers at the hem of his tight pants. 

“It isn’t there, hm?” you purr, a low honeyed tone that has all the blood in Nanami’s body rushing to his fat cock. “Well what do you suppose we do about that, Ken? Since I can’t pay the rent?”

Nanami doesn’t know whether you’re talking about the rent or that massive tent in his pants he really couldn’t explain away. Instead, he spits, “You knew what you were hah- doing, didn’t you, you lil’ minx? You don’t have your fuckin’ wallet here.”

And the air is so thick, so heady that he can only bring himself to pull away mere millimeters from where he was hovering near your face. 

But even that was too much - and in a split-second, you have your deft fingers wrapped tightly around his speckled tie. “And if I did?” Pulling close enough to ghost your lips against his, “You’re smart, Ken. So m’asking once again, what do you suppose we do about that?”

As if to draw out the answer from him, you’re giving a long, hard drag of your hot cunt along the outline of his swollen cock. You could almost feel every throb and nudge of his veins along the side, and it made you salivate.

“I suppose…” he answers, guttural, like some dark, primal part of himself is peaking its head out with each hot breath fanning your face. A large hand coming up to squish your cheeks into a pretty pout, pursing your lips perfectly for him. “That you hit me if you don’t like this, darling.”

And fuck for all how much of a gentleman Nanami acted - he kissed the exact opposite. All but ruining your lips in such a messy clash of teeth and tongue and him. Devouring you. 

“Fuck- shoulda known.” he’s letting out a humorless laugh, swiping his tongue across your glossy lower lips. “Should’ve known when you invited me in. Such a tease.” Drinking in your breathless moans, sucking on your tongue, “Such a- ngh- horny lil’ thing. This what you wanted all along?”

You hum into the kiss so drunk, “Maybe.” Dancing your hands all across where his toned muscles were fighting against the restraints of his shirt, “But you really can’t blame me.”

And maybe it was true - maybe this was inevitable. Either way, Nanami didn’t know, nor did he really care - not when you were letting out such sweet gasps when he bites down on your bottom lip - just a little punishment. Kissing his way down your heated skin, giving a languid lick at where he suspected that secret sensitive spot on your neck would be. 

“Oh! Ken.” you moan. Bingo. 

He’s unbuttoned his shirt now - or maybe it was you. Fuck, either way you couldn’t tear your eyes off of his pretty washboard abs. Curving and dipping like he was sculpted meticulously. 

And that’s all it takes for your already-dripping cunt to grow impossibly wetter, and he could feel it leaking through those flimsy cotton shorts of yours. Forming a messy sheen right at that damp spot of precum on his pants.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, my love.” Nanami murmurs, swiping a thumb down that sopping wet slit of yours through your shorts. Just marveling at the way that simple touch makes another wave of your sweet sweet juices bead through the fabric. “Hah, absolutely dripping. This all f’me?”

At your half-delirious nod, he flashes you a smile so handsome that it only makes you squirm more impatiently. “How sweet.” Giving your nose a chaste peck, “So good to me. So needy.”

“You’re the same, though.” you accuse, hotly.

And it’s true - Nanami couldn’t deny the aching need of his cock, the way he all but moans in response, “Then tell me- hngh tell me what you want. I’ll give you- anything-” Managing to get out through hot, sloppy kisses planted right on your wobbly lips, “-anything.”

But, ah, you always did manage to surprise him. And instead of an answer, you’re getting right down on your knees in front of him like you did not too long ago - though, this time, you’re reaching up to fumble with his belt. 

“Wan’ taste you.” you huff when his expensive notches prove too stubborn. “Wan’ feel you in my mouth so bad, Ken.” 

“Oh yeah?” he chuckles darkly, easily loosening his belt and his pants along with it. Rock-hard cock sensitive and just smearing a pool of precum where his fat head springs up to hit your lips. Such a pretty shade of gloss. Nanami laces his hand on your scalp to guide you forwards, slowly, “Then take it. Take it f’me, pretty.”

He was so pretty that you possibly couldn’t not - a delicate blushing red at his very tip, glistening and absolutely soaked in precum down the long path to his creamy base, his heavy balls. So girthy that it made your cunt clench in anticipation.

And then there’s no more talking. Hell, you barely get enough time to admire Nanami’s massive cock before he’s bullying it between your lips. Wetting his thick, angry tip with your saliva, just enough to eye down at the way your lips bulge so prettily around him. 

“Gonna hafta open w-wider if you wanna take me, pretty. Open hah- yeah jus’ like that.” He’s reeling your head back, all the way till you were just kissing at his thick, angry tip. “Now spit on it, my love.”

Despite being the one to say it, Nanami’s mouth drops into a fucked-out little oh! of disbelief when you’re readily decorating his swollen length with a steady stream of spit. Your soft palms smearing the saliva along his length. 

You’re slurring, “After all, I still haven’t found my wallet, right?”

And oh he doesn’t even have to ask for what comes next - doesn’t even have to make a noise. 

Immediately, you take him in inch by fucking inch. The deliciously salty twang taking over your senses, and he’s so hot and heavy over your tongue. Veins pulsing in a dizzyingly throb! throb! throb! against the roof of your mouth.

“Are you- are you sure you can-” You shut up his doubts by rubbing your hot tongue along every sensitive ridge you could reach. Bobbing your head at a quick, ruthless little pace to milk his pretty cock for all he’s worth. 

Nanami’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Was this what heaven felt like? 

“F-fuuuck, oh you-” his words are catching in his throat with each flick of the tip of your tongue against his sensitive slit. Just the way he liked it. “-ngh guess that sharp mouth of yours wasn’t just hah- good for teasing, huh?”

He’s running his mouth a mile a minute - the complete opposite of the reserved man that’d come knocking on your door. Hips grinding up into your warm tongue mindlessly, slow. Languid - like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. “Oh you feel so heavenly- so fuckin’ good it should be illegal.”

You can’t help but bat your teary eyes up at him in response, blinking away the lustful haze to drink in that utterly obscene sight above you. Nanami’s neat, blond hair uncharacteristically disheveled, stray strands sticking to his furrowed brow. Only deepening with each wrecked sigh that leaves his plump lips every time his abs flex with the movement of his fat head hitting the gummy back of your throat. 

He looks so pretty it makes you moan. 

Those electric vibrations going all the way down that wet divot on the tip of Nanami’s painfully hard cock to his heavy balls. 

“Oh shit- shit shit shit feels too good.” his words are slurring together, drunk off the way you gag around him. “Don’t do that don’t-” This only makes you drag your sloppy mouth down him deeper, syrupy moans sticking to

him all the while. 

“Fuck!” Nanami shudders. And he’s pulling you down - hard - barely letting you get a feverish little breath out until your nose is hitting the neat patch of blond at his base. Rubbing up against his toned pelvis. 

Still moving in deep, relentless thrusts inside your gummy cavern. “S’real fuckin’ hard to treat you as nice as I want when you act like that, my love.”

And, of course, the only response he gets are your pathetic, wet gurgles as you take him in faster. Cheeks hollowing to massaging his every sweet spot. Your jaw grinding against his twitching balls with each smack of his hypnotized hips against your mouth, fucking into you the way he wished he could do with your cunt. Frenzied. Sloppy. 

Yeah, this was heaven alright - but you were the fuckin’ devil. 

Of course, you wanted him to treat you like such a slut - so he does. 

Just dragging your stubborn mouth off of his twitching cock, Nanami only reaches down to place an accomplished peck on the pout of your mouth before hoisting you onto the counter. “What? You think I’d really ngh- cum before my darling girl?”

He’s groaning into your mouth, licking at the seam of your candied lips as two strong arms of his spread your legs so far apart it burned. “F-fuck, Ken-”

“Aw look. You’ve got another slutty pair, huh?” he gestures down at the drenched scrap of fabric you so proudly called “panties.” Sliding a thumb underneath to glide it underneath your puffy pussy lips. He’s echoing your sentiment from before, “Said you can’t find your hah- wallet, right?” Well, ya better start makin’ up for that now.”

In all of two seconds, Nanami’s hooking two fingers over your underwear - pulling - ripping. He was right -  Nanami takes a moment to admire your dripping cunt, glistening and needy for him - he could rip those panties right off of you. 

With just one hand pinning you to the cool marble of your counter, the other thumbing open your puffy folds, he’s giving all of your pussy a hot, open-mouthed kiss. 

“Mmm fuck-” he spits into your sloppy hole. Once. Twice. Letting it form a saturated little pool of your juices, before surging back nose-deep with a pained grunt. Again. And again. And again and again- “Jus’ as sweet- as sugary sweet ngh-”

Nanami didn’t think Higuruma knew about this little treasure trove when describing you - though, if he did, then he was well and fully intent on tongue-fucking every little thought out of him right now. 

“Hngh! Shit-” you’re keening when his greedy tongue laps up every bit of your syrupy sweet slick. Alternating - methodically, indecisively - between rolling over your throbbing clit and just dipping into your awaiting entrance. “It feels so- so good, Ken.”

“Yeah that’s right.” he gasps, wrapping those pretty pink lips of his to suck on your clit. Harsh. “Say my name- no, louder. Louder.” 

It’s all you can do to not just scream out his name without your neighbors filing a noise complaint. Dragging your sopping pussy all over his mouth - glistening and obscene right down the bottom half of his face all the way up to smear against his clear glasses. 

Such obscene squelches ring through your kitchen as Nanami keeps making out so messily with your sensitive nub. Ringing in your fucked-out brain, so obscene, so addictive that you barely even register the thick fingers dipping their way around your hole. 

You jolt when the cool metal of his glasses kiss your skin, “O-oh Ken what-” 

“Shhh shhh, darling.” he soothes. The tip of his manicured index circling around your elastic muscle. Hypnotic. “M’gonna take care of you. Gonna take such good-” With this, he’s bullying his fingers inside, “-care of you.”

Tears crinkle at the corners of your eyes at the sheer stimulation. Because for how sweet Nanami was talking you through this, he was absolutely ruthless on your cunt. Not half the man he was this morning - animalistic. Feral, even.

His sharp jaw grinding against your skin, fingers almost a blur with how depraved they were pumping in and out of you. Massaging every hidden corner of your plushy walls, yet you get the feeling that they were calculated. Nanami’s darkened eyes drinking in every whimper and twitch of your body over the glasses inching dangerously downwards. Searching, waiting for that one-

“Ngh!” You worry you’d have fallen off the counter if it wasn’t for Nanami holding you down. Body jolting at sudden electricity running through your veins, “Oh- fuck fuck fuck. Oh my god Ken, there. Right there–”

But before the sentence has even left your heavy lips, he’s hitting your g-spot once more. Easily finding the bullseye that has you bucking and arching into his mouth like such a slut. 

And this time - Nanami lets you use his mouth all you want. The fingers splayed out to pin you down moves to toy with your puffy clit. Rolling between his fingers while he hisses out syrupy sweet praises, “Shit, never liked m’name that much- ngh- but it sounds so pretty on your lips. So sweet. So- oh-” 

The sight of your cunt just beading with need has him kissing it once more. All over your sensitive nub, your ravaged hole, hell, even down to the mess of slick dripping down at your thighs. Faster. Sloppier. No rhythm or rhyme anymore. 

“M’so close.” you whine, weaving your fingers through his blond hair to help ride his face easier. Jolting with each purposeful flick of his tongue. “Gonna cum, Ken.”

“Cum then.” he answers, simply, grinning a guiltily glossy grin, “You’ve got a lot to make up for, right?”

And then you do - stars behind your eyes and that little nickname you’d made Nanami in your mouth. Over and over while he tonguefucks you through your high. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck–” you whine, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks eat time he swiped at your sensitive spots, dragging it out longer. Until your soft whimpers were drowning out the squelches from below. Until you were blinking your spotty vision back. Until you were squirming your hips higher up the counter to pull away from Nanami’s unforgiving tactics. “M’too sensitive- Nana-”

He tuts, interrupting your orgasm-drunk babbles, “Tha’s not what you call me.” Pulling away just enough to hum, “All I did was eat this pretty cunt out, darling n’ you already forgot my name?”

You shiver - both at his mean little tone and the absolutely sinful sight between your shaky thighs. Nanami’s lips plump and irritated, eyes foggy - glasses even more so with all the sloppy dredges of spit and your slick.

Shit, you think he’s never looked prettier. 

“Is that so?”

It’s all you hear before you’re hit with his glasses being gently placed onto your nose bridge - followed shortly by the realization that oh, you said that out loud. But Nanami basks in your sudden shyness, giving your lips a chaste, lingering peck. “You dirtied my glasses, y’know. Now you have to make up for that on top of the rent.”

And by the feeling of his thick tip kissing at your pussy lips, you had a very good idea about how you’d be making up for it. Making a mess. Sliding the curve of his head up and down. Up and down up and down up and-

“B-but don’t forget.” you manage to grit out by the time he’s nudging his divot against your clit. “You have to make- hah- make up for-” 

In a fluid motion, you’re reaching your fingers to dig into the irresistible tan skin at his hips, all hard muscle and the thick fabric of where he’d pulled his pants down just enough. You press down on his bulging back pocket, smirk growing at the familiar flash of hot pink you could spy, “-my panties.”

The moment the obscene little accusation leaves your lips, you give a soft tug forwards. Nanami’s towering body being pulled easily to push his weeping tip past your puffy folds. 

“F-fuck.” he’s throwing his head back at the feeling. “You hngh- saw, huh?”

Oh, if he hadn’t been imagining this the moment he’d stepped inside your apartment then Nanami thinks he might’ve just passed out right then and there. 

Because you were so warm, so addictive wrapped around his cock - even when he’s barely even in. That he just has to keep going - after all, it’s for the rent, right?

It’s what he likes to think.

It’s what he whispers - over and over into your open mouth as he bullies his thick cock past your gummy entrance. Letting your plush walls suck the ever-loving soul out of him with each lazy, lingering grind just to fit himself inside. 

“O-oh! Shit-” your nails leave jagged red marks down Nanami’s broad shoulders when he stuffs you full. Desperate. “Y-you’re so big, Ken–” 

At this, you feel Nanami’s girth grow even wider, stretching your walls until it felt like he was molding your poor pussy to the shape. Just reaching into your lungs. You squeal, “Wait- you got bigger- what-”

“I know I know, You got it, my love.” he’s soothing your cries with sugary kisses at the corners of your mouth. Drawing slow, methodical circles on your clit in time with his experimental thrusts. “You got it. You can take it. Shhh shh-” He’s drinking in your cute mewls, cupping your pretty face with his free hand, “You’ll take it right? All of it, like my good girl? You’ve gotta make up for it, right?” At your delirious nod, “Words, pretty.”

“Yes, please.” You buck your hips in a sultry tandem matching his, the cool frame of his glasses still kissing at your skin. “M’gonna take it all like your good girl, Ken.”

Shit, he can feel himself growing even bigger just halfway into you, “Then-” Angling your teary face down to watch the mess down below. The way your greedy cunt was trying to milk each and every inch of him like it was delicious. “-look.”

You can’t tear your eyes away as he delves into you so filthy. 

Not waiting for your pathetic whines about him being “too big” - no, Nanami’s only pulling you back from escaping like some sextoy - his favorite one. Still toying sweetly with your clit while he pushes against that feeble ring of resistance. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

“Ken!” you’re yelping out when he finally bottoms out. Your swollen folds meeting his drenched hilt, blond tufts of hair brushing up against your pelvis. Sighing, ”Finally.”

“Finally?” he’s dragging out his words with an already-crooked, pussydrunk grin. Eyes wild - bewildered almost at how well you were taking him. “S-seriously? Did you say ngh- ‘finally’, my girl?” Each word has him tapping more strength behind those thrusts, faster. Harder. Spitting out so contendly, “Finally- hah. Such a slut f’me, hm?”

He’s plunging into you like such an animal right now, so harsh that it was almost difficult to pull back. To dare subject himself to not be buried inside your dripping cunt for even a split-second. 

In response, you lick a long stripe up the sensitive area of his neck, splaying out a hand to squeeze Nanami’s pec - and the rapid heartbeat you felt beneath it. “You’re not- ngh- any better.”

“I know.” Nanami leers, unabashedly kneading at your sore tits now. Fucking you harder and harder into the counter. Connecting his sweaty forehead with yours to look you right in the eyes as he gruffs, “I’ve been thinking about fucking this pretty cunt as soon as you opened that door, y’know.”

You feel his cock twitch wildly at the confession, dragging against your gummy walls with his tip. Hitting - oh-so-expertly - that one sensitive honeypot of nerves. Which makes Nanami’s mouth fall slack with what a treasure you were. 

“Y-you’re such a-” you’re moans are syrupy and slurring together now. Holding onto the larger man for dear life, “such a pervert, Ken.”

Shit, you were squeezing around him so hard that it was almost impossible to pull out. Abs straining to keep up the loud staccato of skin-against-skin, and Nanami’s long, jagged rams inside your wet heaven.

Nanami’s nosing down your pulse, letting his hot tongue loll out to catch the salty drops of your tears, “Mhm, only for hngh- you. Because you’re my girl now, aren’t ya?”

So easy for him to trawl out those addictive moans with each drag of the upwards curve of his fat cock. Thick tip hitting your g-spot, your cervix - as if he was branding his name into your pretty pussy from the inside. Sloppy. 

Leaving a bruising little Kento. With his erratic fingers pinching and rolling your clit at the same feverish tempo of his cock bullying inside your cunt - Kento. With his heavy balls smacking against your ass, sending jolts of white-hot pleasure all the way up to his sensitive slit, rubbing up against your succubus walls - Kento. With the way your heels were now digging into those dimples at the bottom of his spine, sure to leave marks with the way you were pulling him impossibly closer. So needy - Kento.

Only getting sloppier. The only thing in your mind right now - Kento Kento Kento-

So, really, it makes sense when that’s the only thing you’re capable of getting out once you cum. It sneaks up on you at first, and then all at once - and before you know it, you’re cumming so desperately all over Nanami’s relentless cock. 

Over and over.

Your thighs spasming, such a slutty ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth with each wave of pleasure he’s forcing out of you by targeting your ravaged g-spot. Only a few more of those sloppy, mean thrusts left in the man himself before Nanami’s spilling into your greedy cunt. 

Painting your gummy walls white with each painful squeeze of his balls, he’s still thrusting - as if on instinct. Shoving his seed deeper and deeper down your cum-filled hole until he’s sure it’s overfilled. 

By god were you a vision, he’s thinking deliriously. Tears pooling at your eyes, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth, throat to shoot to do anything but whimper when he keeps going in and out in and out in and-

And if he angled his head just right, he could see the hot globs of cum that take to trickling out from your puffy folds, pooling at a mouthwateringly creamy base around his hilt.

“Ah,” Nanami wastes no time squeezing his index into your already-bulging entrance, pumping the cum slobbering out back in. “Better- hah- better not waste any-” He could barely speak right now, cumming harder than he has in his whole life - in fact, his overworked cock was still shooting out wispy spurts of his seed. Like he couldn’t stop. “-after all, y’haven’t made up for all the overdue rent yet, my love.”

A/N. Concept inspired by this NSFW audio by IchigekiVA that my friend sent me <3

Plagiarism of work not authorized.

[babynkidsworld1]

10 Stylish Ways to Wear a Wooden Bow Tie Set for Boys

In recent years, Wooden Bow Ties have become a popular accessory for boys, adding a touch of sophistication and uniqueness to their outfits. While traditionally associated with formal events, these stylish accessories can be versatile and worn in various ways to suit different occasions and personal styles. In this blog post, we'll explore ten creative and stylish ways to wear a wooden bow tie set for boys, from casual to formal looks.

The Classic Look: For a timeless and elegant ensemble, pair a wooden bow tie set with a crisp white button-down shirt, a tailored blazer, and trousers. This classic combination is perfect for formal events such as weddings, parties, or school functions.

The Preppy Style: Channel the preppy vibe by teaming a patterned wooden bow tie set with a polo shirt and chinos. Add a cardigan or sweater for extra warmth during cooler months. This look is ideal for family gatherings or casual outings.

The Dapper Denim: Give a nod to casual chic by pairing a wooden bow tie set with a denim shirt and dark jeans. Complete the look with a stylish belt and loafers for a polished yet relaxed appearance, perfect for a day out with friends or a casual dinner.

The Hipster Edge: Embrace a trendy and edgy style by combining a funky printed wooden bow tie set with a graphic tee, suspenders, and rolled-up jeans. Finish off the look with sneakers or boots for a cool and fashion-forward outfit that stands out from the crowd.

The Nautical Twist: Capture the essence of summer with a nautical-inspired ensemble featuring a striped wooden bow tie set paired with a lightweight linen shirt and shorts. Add boat shoes or espadrilles to complete the maritime look, ideal for beach outings or yacht parties.

The Vintage Charm: Achieve a retro-inspired look by pairing a wooden bow tie set with a vintage-inspired shirt and tailored trousers. Add suspenders and a fedora hat for a touch of old-school charm, perfect for themed parties or special occasions.

The Sporty Elegance: Combine sports luxe with sophistication by teaming a solid-colored wooden bow tie set with a polo neck sweater and tailored joggers. Complete the look with sneakers or loafers for a stylish and comfortable outfit suitable for casual gatherings or weekend outings.

The Casual Cool: Opt for a laid-back yet stylish look by pairing a neutral-toned wooden bow tie set with a henley shirt and cargo pants. Add a denim jacket or utility vest for extra flair and versatility, perfect for outdoor adventures or casual hangouts.

The Boho Chic: Infuse a bohemian vibe into your outfit by pairing a wooden bow tie set with a printed button-down shirt and relaxed-fit trousers. Layer with a lightweight cardigan or kimono for added texture and style, ideal for music festivals or summer picnics.

The Monochrome Magic: Make a bold statement with a monochromatic ensemble featuring a black or white wooden bow tie set paired with matching attire. Whether it's a black-tie event or a formal dinner, this sleek and sophisticated look is sure to turn heads and leave a lasting impression.

From classic and timeless to trendy and eclectic, there are countless ways to style a Wooden Bow Tie Set for Boys. Whether dressing up for a special occasion or adding a unique touch to everyday outfits, these stylish accessories are versatile and can elevate any ensemble. Experiment with different combinations and embrace your personal style to create memorable and fashionable looks that reflect your individuality.

[bi-writes]

thinking about mob baking simon a cake for his birthday (without his prior knowledge) mm good soup

mail-order bride

"you think he likes chocolate, baby?" you ask the cats. they sit side-by-side at the breakfast counter, being good girls as they sit on their chairs and watch you mix batter. "he totally likes chocolate. big boys like daddy love chocolate, don't they, girls?"

you grease two circular pans, pouring the chocolate cake batter into them. you set them in the oven before getting to work on your chocolate buttercream. you're using the new mixer simon bought you--it's beautiful, stainless steel, heavy. when you saw in the store a few weeks ago, you gushed at it, telling simon you saw someone make cinnamon rolls, bread, cakes, all in this mixer, but when your eyes skimmed over the price, you said nothing more, just smiled up at simon and let him lead you over to where the cast iron pans were (you wanted a real one).

a few weeks later, you noticed it on the kitchen counter. sparkling silver, right there, with the whisk attachment on it just waiting for you. and in the cupboard, ingredients--bread flour, powdered sugar, cornmeal, corn starch, dutch process, baking chocolate, whole wheat flour--all for you to play with. and when you baked him the most decadent triple chocolate coffee cake he had ever had, he bent you over the same table his empty plate sat and ate your cunt out with your apron still on. when you kissed him afterwards, he still tasted like chocolate.

you turn off the mixer, reaching in with a spoon to lick the buttercream off of it. you hum with delight, setting it aside, and when the oven timer dings, you pull the cakes out to let them cool.

you wrap simon's present as everything settles. special order, a favor you called into johnny. it's in a nice wooden box, and you tie a big red bow on it, and when you go back into the kitchen, you level and stack the two pieces of cake between buttercream and use a spoon to make a fancy decoration over the top of it.

the front door sounds as you're putting the finishing touches on the cake. you can hear him coming closer, and you gasp.

"no, no, no, don't come in the kitchen yet!"

"wot?"

"just--wait a little bit in the living room, okay?"

"for wot?"

"simon--" you groan. "please? for me?"

you don't hear anything after that except for the tv turning on. when you finish putting the last candles on the cake, you light them, picking up the plate and coming into the living room.

simon looks surprised. he was concentrating hard on the tv, watching the game, but his face relaxes when he sees you holding the cake. the cats perk up from where they're laid down beside him, and their ears flit as you start to sing happy birthday.

his whole face twitches. he stiffens, his palms flat on his thighs as he grips them tight. you set down the cake on the coffee table in front of him, candles glowing as you take a seat next to him. he's still staring at the cake as you finish the song.

"happy birthday, dear simon...happy birthday to you."

you smile at him, wrapping a hand around his bicep, squeezing it gently. you kiss his shoulder before motioning to the cake.

"you can blow them out now, simon," you say softly. "make a wish."

he doesn't move. he stares straight ahead, his eyes fixated on the flickering candles. you reach down and take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and hugging his arm. you sit with him quietly, looking at the cake with him, and after a minute or so, you turn back at him.

"simon?" you whisper.

he's crying. you put a hand on the back of his head, scratching his short hair, and you cup his face gently as you wipe his tears. he's silent. the tears come, but he still doesn't move, still won't meet your eyes. you smile, going over to pick up the cake, and you hold it in front of him.

"here...make a wish, simon," you say softly. he picks up his sleeve and wipes his face, leaning over to blow out the candles. you put down the cake, standing up to go get his gift sitting on the kitchen table. when you sit down next to him again, he's still staring at the cake, still trying to pretend his face isn't wet with tears, but he stops wiping them when you place the box in his lap.

he unravels the bow. when he opens the case, he lets out a little chuckle, smoothing his hand over the foam inside.

there are an array of throwing knives laid before him. perfectly crafted, in different shapes and sizes, and when he picks one up and twirls it around between his fingers, the weight of them and the ease at which they move tells him you only picked out the finest quality. they're beautiful, and it's a thoughtful gift, and when he closes the lid on the box, he still can't meet your eyes.

"i'll cut us some cake," you say softly. you busy yourself getting plates and a cake knife from the kitchen, cutting generous slices before handing him one of the plates. he picks up the fork, and when you notice his hand shakes, you take the plate back from him gently and scoop a bite onto the fork for him. you don't say anything, just hold it up to his mouth, and once he takes a bite, you set the plate down and watch as he chews.

when he swallows, you sit again in silence. you reach over and take simon's hands in your own, squeezing them gently before bringing them up to your mouth to kiss softly. when he finally looks at you, all you do is smile.

he hadn't even remembered it was birthday. he never told you when it was, but he supposes you must have been curious enough to look for yourself. he can't remember the last time someone made him cake. he can't remember when he last received a gift, especially one like this. he doesn't know when he last thought himself happy enough to celebrate anything at all, but there is no other way he would've wanted today to go.

joy. you bring uninhibited, unfiltered, all-consuming joy. the way you're smiling at him--he can already see you in the kitchen in that apron, baking this cake, talking to no one but the cats as you carefully decorate it. the way you're looking at him--he knows you dreamed about this all week, scheduling the day so you could have the cake done as soon as he got home.

and chocolate. his favorite. decadent, sweet chocolate--it's still under his tongue, and he wants another bite already, he cannot wait to devour the slice that waits for him on the table.

"happy birthday, simon," you whisper, and when you lean in to hug him, he cradles the back of your head, tangling a hand into your hair as he presses you to his chest. "i love you."

fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck--

"love you, too, baby."

"what did you wish for?" you mumble into his shoulder. simon snorts a little, shaking his head.

"if i tell ya, it won't come true."

"oh, yeah," you giggle. "keep your secrets then."

he doesn't want more; the only thing he wishes for is more time. more time with you. as much as he can get. to live long enough that he gets to see your face for as long as possible.

that whatever he sees for the last time will be you and you only.

[servicpop]

kinktober week 4 — impact play vallen ( ceo oc ) x bttm male reader

ⓘ riding crop use , basically pain kink , punishment , short

It started with dinner, you accidentally spilling red wine on Vallen's navy suit, — though he wasn't mad at all, he could easily afford five more if he wanted to — breaking a cup while trying to make yourself a drink, and then your overly clingy behaviour in his office while he was trying to finish paperwork for the night. Your audible groaning didn't help the countless pages of useless but important information he had to hand write.

You were draped over the couch Vallen had against one of the walls in his office, your head laying off the armrest turning your vision upside-down. Per usual, Vallen was sat at his desk with a pen in hand, quietly scribbling whatever he needed onto one piece of paper before moving to the other.

“Vallen, I'm so lonely can you please pay your boyfriend some attention?” There it was again, your whiny tone and your pouty lips chirping off about something Vallen didn't even care to listen to. But, just hearing your voice again broke his last straw.

Vallen abruptly pushed himself away from the desk, standing up with his back faced to you. From the absence of words, you knew he was pissed, and that was enough for you to sit up properly and fix up your posture. You heard the scraping of wood against wood as Vallen pulled open the bottom drawer from his desk, pulling out a long black stick with a fanned out edge.

The moment you saw him slap the edge against his palm, making that crackle noise, you realised that he was holding a riding crop.

The CEO turned around to face you, striding towards the couch where you sat with each footstep accompanied with the clack of his shoes against the polished wooden floors. There wasn't a frown on his face, nor did he have a monotone expression; Vallen wore an unsettling, sweet smile.

“Sweetheart I'm sure you're aware of how busy I am,” he cooes, carding his fingers through your hair, tucking back any fly-aways behind your ear. You shudder from the oddly soft touches despite the vein thats straining on his forehead. He brings the black riding crop to your cheek, gliding the leather along your skin.

“All you've done today was annoy me, isn't it time I teach you a lesson, hm?” His voice was dangerously smooth, like faux fur on an expensive coat. You don't have the heart to reply so you just swallow your words.

“Lay down across my lap,” Vallen drops an octave and the smile drops from his face. He leans back against the velvet couch, a knuckle pressed against his cheek as he waits for you to bend down. He looks down at you as if you were a tiny mouse and he was a cat with sharpened claws.

You would be a fool if you didn't obey, so you did, almost instantly laying down over his knees. He brings your hands behind your back, slipping off the tie he was wearing to bind your wrists together in a tight bow. You were just like a present on Christmas, bound with a little bow and waiting for Vallen to tear apart.

His fingers slid underneath the back of your pants, brushing against the small of your back before he pushed them down all the way to your ankles. He didn't bother fully taking them off.

He brought the riding crop to the mound of your ass, caressing your skin with small circles before he brought it up and slammed it down on your tender flesh. A surprised yelp tumbled out of your mouth as you flinched upon impact, wincing at the sting.

“Count, prince,” He corrected, using his free hand to slip down the crack and to your puckered hole. “Use your words.”

The tips of his fingers nudged at your opening, pushing past your tight rim to slip one finger in. He brought the crop up again and smacked it down, sending ripples through your now reddened cheek.

“T—Two,” you manage to choke out between whimpers. The sting made you squirm, instinctively trying to apply pressure to the 'wound.' As your hands attempt to wriggle out of its confinements, Vallen smacks your wrists with the tool, earning another pained gasp from you.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment while his fingers push up against your pelvic bone, sinking his finger into your tight channel.

“You're getting so red,” He chuckled hollowly, tracing the red marks on your skin with the leather, “I told you, it really is your color.”

Vallen leaned his head down to kiss your wrists before he moved the crop over your ass again. He delivered another smack, the sound piercing through the otherwise silent room. Your knees instinctively bend up as your legs squirm from the pain similar to a burn under your skin.

Vallen takes the opportunity to slip a second finger inside, his ring finger accompanying his middle. He doesn't move them, he keeps his fingers completely still inside of you, letting your muscles contract and clench down on them with each hit to your sensitive skin.

“Three,” you sob out, tears brimming your eyes as the pain builds up. His fingers are tormenting you, buried so deep that just a slight nudge of his fingers could get you writhing in pleasure. Vallen sets the riding crop down for a minute, sliding his fingers under your adams apple to lift your face up.

“Poor boy, let's switch it up.” Vallen's voice is full of sugar, like molasses dripping off his tongue. It made your throat clog and your stomach ache as if you really did eat something overly sugary.

He hoists you up by your torso, letting your knees bend and your calves press against the back of your thighs in a sitting position. He marvels at your pink cock flush against your lower stomach, letting out a small condescending chuckle.

“Why are they closed, dear?” he tuts, shaking his head disapprovingly as he places a hand on each of your knees, delicately pulling them apart. He fishes the riding crop from the couch, holding it firmly in his palms; he doesn't do anything with it just yet. His free hand makes it's way to cradle your cheek, dipping his thumb past your pink lips and into your mouth. You're sitting taller than him at the moment due to the fact that you were on your shins while he had both feet flat on the floor.

Vallen lets you suck his finger for a second and he can feel your warm, wet tongue over the pad of his thumb. He looks up at you with such bedroom eyes, dipping his head down to press a quick kiss to your chest covered by the thin fabric of your shirt. Your body tenses up at the light touch to your now hardened nipples, and Vallen takes advantage of the distraction.

He brings the leather of the riding crop to your tip, thwacking it with enough force to get you to whine and flinch but not enough to wholeheartedly hurt you. He lets the crop linger on the slit of your cockhead before he lifts it up slowly to peek at the underside of it.

“You're making such a mess” he muses, observing the dampness of the flap from the pre-cum bubbling from your urethra. It's smeared all over the material, creating a sticky mess all over yourself and the tool.

He uses his index finger to slide along the slit, gathering all the fluid on his finger before he shamelessly wipes his fingers clean on your stomach.

“How many is that now?” he questions you while pulling your shirt up and above your head, revealing your perky chest, untainted with red as of now.

“Four,” you hiccup, the pain made you fidgety but the pleasure kept you grounded. You saw the gradual color change from a lighter pink to red on your skin. You let out a choked moan when Vallen smacks your dick with the crop again, sending shockwaves of pain through your veins.

It hurts so bad that it's good.

Vallen's non-dominant hand seemed to be contradictory to the one holding the tool. He gently caressed and patted the supple skin of your chest, soothing you with honeyed touches. Vallen leans his face in closer to your skin, littering small kisses over your clavicle and latched his mouth onto one nipple.

“V—Vallen, don't,” you whine out, struggling with your restraints as you attempted to try and push him back. He knew you were weak where your chest was, and it was confirmed with the way your breathing elevated.

Your words fell to dead ears nonetheless, his hand gingerly twisting and flicking your buds while he kissed the other. The riding crop in his hands dragged up from the bottom of your stomach all the way to the nipple Vallen's mouth was previously tormenting.

He places the flap flat along your pink bud before hitting it harshly. Your body instinctively jerked back and a pained cry punched out of your throat as your chest slowly reddened.

“Too harsh? Is it too sensitive up here?” He feigned concern, cooing at you like a child. He moves his hand to rub your nipple soothing before delivering a lighter smack to it again. It was all raw and achy; you'd definitely need to place bandages over it for the next few days from how sensitive it'll get.

The dragging of leather down and up your length so teasingly was undoubtedly kindling a fire in the pit of your stomach. The cold leather slicked with your own fluid was so erotic, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin from the ticklish feeling.

“Val— wait, wait–!” Your words are all chopped up as Vallen slaps the area where your balls meet the underside of your cock, the hit sending ripples down your spine, making you bend forward and slam your legs shut. The tingling sensation was enough to pull you off the edge and you could feel your thighs convulse and that familiar feeling of an orgasm well up in your balls.

“That's my good boy,” Vallen's seductive tone rings through your ears and you're wriggling in the tie wrapped around your wrists, letting out a muffled whine through your throat. Your eyelashes flutter rapidly before your body can't hold it in anymore as you empty out your load.

The weight lifts from your balls and leaves you panting, body slumped and aching. The afterfeeling of the slaps started to sting and tingle.

You can't even bring your mind to realise the mess you made on Vallen's clothing, white splayed out across his thighs. Through dazed eyes you see him move his hands behind your back, untying you from the grasp of his tie.

“You won't bother me while I'm working again?” he asks, and he expects you to reply with a 'yes.' He slips a hand to your cheek, wiping away any stray tears that escaped from your tear ducts.

“I've learnt my lesson,” you mumble against the warmth of his palm, nuzzling into the affectionate gesture.

“Good.”

[desideriumwriter]

MORE DITZY READER WITH GEORGE I BEG OF YOU!!! 😫😫😫😫 I feel like she’d be the type to just give him a kiss on the cheek as a way of saying thanks, and George would just stand there stunned as she left. 🤭 - 🪩

i think my new obsession is writing george w/ ditzy!reader, the cutest pair ever <3 ty for the idea!!

wc: 0.7k

Whoever knotted your shoelaces to the metal rod part of the lamp on the wall did a damn good job at it. 

You held the chair that George was standing on steady as possible, your hands wrapped around the wooden back of the chair as George tried to pick out the part of your laces. 

Of course the one time he doesn’t bring his wand with him is when he needs it. You didn’t have yours either, your explanation being you left it hidden under your pillow, George didn’t bother to ask why.

George had already gotten one shoe off, handing it nicely to you despite how annoyed he was at how long it took just to get one untied.

“I can go get my wand if you need me to. I was worried I was going to lose it during dinner, there’s a hole in my pocket.” You explained, George looked down at you to see you sticking a finger through the rip in the fabric of your robes.

“No, no. It’s fine, I almost…damn…almost got this one.” He brushed your words off. 

After a few more moments of George practically picking at the shoelaces with his fingernails, the knot unraveled and he nearly let out a dramatic sigh of relief.

“You think it was nargles again?” George asked, carefully stepping down from the chair, he had one hand holding your shoe and the other reaching out for yours, suggesting for you to get up off the floor.

He wasn’t sure if he believed in Nargles or not. Knowing that most people believed they were either extinct, or had never existed at all. 

But when he was with you, they did exist. So did the butterflies in his stomach when he saw you.

“Most likely. They took my tie last week.” You took his hand so politely, he noticed how soft your hands were compared to his calloused ones. You did a little hop when you got up, it got a smile out of George.

Taking your other shoe from him, you sat down on the chair to slip your shoes on.

“Could you tie the other one for me? It’ll take less time.” You looked up and asked George as you slipped on your second shoe.

“I’ll tie both.” He nodded, already crouching down on one knee. Even though the whole point was tying two shoes at once would be faster, you didn’t protest, only nodding and smiling at his offer.

George’s head of thick, ginger hair was right was the only thing you could focus on as he looked down, tying your shoes with shift hands.

You impulsively stuck out a hand, running your hand through his hair, twirling a thick strand around your finger. George looked up, a bit confused.

“You have very orange hair.” You stated.

“Thank you?” 

“You take very good care of it, it’s very smooth, silky. Not many boys' hair look like yours.” 

“Well, I’m not sure if there’s a large amount of long haired ginger boys in our school.” George chuckled, his focus going back to tying your laces. You let out a hum as you unraveled your hand from his hair and let him finish.

George straightened the bow on each shoe before standing up, lending a hand out to you again even though you could stand up on your own. You took his hand anyways.

“There you go! I could fix that hole in your pocket too.” He suggested and you shook your head.

“It’s fine, I know how to do it myself. I’m quite good at patching up things.” You said proudly, “Thanks for getting my shoes.”

George meant to respond, but before he could you stood up on your toes to connect your lips to his cheek. Giving him a soft yet sweet kiss to his soon to be blushing face.

“You’re so kind, Georgie. I’ll make sure to wear my cork necklace, keeps the Nargles away.” You smiled, turning as you began to skip down the hallway.

George only stood there still in shock caused by the unexpected peck, jaw ajar as he raised his hand to his warm cheek, feeling it as a grin took over his lips.

[angelfrombeneth]

MAGICAL DRYING DISASTER - T . NOTT

Mature Content Ahead

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: After waking up late and discovering you left your washing in the machine over night. You had no other choice to use magic to dry it - except it did dry but also shrunk, massively, in the process. Once Theo finds you let's just say he manages to keep it kept in till the common room. Then it's all fair game from there.

Warnings: SMUT, No Protection - PIV, Theodore is a munch - Fem Oral, Body Worship, Smidge of SubWhiney!Theo, Cursing

A/N: This is my first one-shot fic I've posted in a long time but also my first one EVER on tumblr. I used to write on wattpad and ao3 but took a very long hiatus. So excuse if my smut writing is a bit off or any spelling mistakes I currently have acrylics on - its quite hard to type.

Click Clack.. Click Clack...

You ran towards your class quickly, pulling town the absolute belt of a skirt you wore today before entering into your potions class. Late.

"Miss Neveah.. Thank you for finally joining us" Snape panned. His face expressionless as he stared at you. A slight hint of disapproval in his face.

"I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again!" You scurried to your seat beside Pansy.

"It most definitely will not" He groaned before turning back to the chalk board to continue his explanation.

You shimmied on your seat, pulling as much skirt down as you could. Practically flashing those behind you of your bright red thong and gorgeously placed star tramp stamp.

Nice touch is what you thought when you got it a few months ago after a night out in the muggle clubs with Pansy. She persuaded you and said Theo would love it. Or which he did.

"Y/N.. your skirt is practically a belt. Trying to flash us all?" She whispered, giggling as he peered down as your legs, absent of any tights aswell.

"Girl.. It shrunk when I tried to use magic to dry it. All my other skirts are dirty" You pouted. "I also couldn't find a pair of fucking tights, I was running so late"

"Its not that bad, just don't bend over if you can" She smiled as she reached to your ponytail tieing in a little green piece of ribbon into a bow. "And don't let Mr Lover boy see you" She snickered.

You sighed, focusing in the rest of your class. Praying not many people noticed. You were pretty daft thinking that. You were already the hot goss. It was only so long till Theo found out.

Though alot of boys in Hogwarts fancied you, they all knew about Theodore Nott swooping in, in 4th year the year before you 'blossomed' as they said. They say he saw the potential and snatched it up while they could.

You walked down the hall, pulling your books to your chest as your red bottoms clipped the wooden floor that spanned the whole school. Many turned your way gawking as you, mostly more than normal due to tour skirt size today.

You weren't a bad girl. You has good grades, you were overly nice to everyone just the people you hung round with were opposite. Many saying you were too nice.

After a quick detour to pick up an extra book from the library you shuffled down the corridor, your heels clicking their signature click against the oak as you walked towards your friends who stood beside your regular post class meeting pillar.

"Sorry I'm late!" You skipped towards them hurriedly. You watched as Theo whipped his head around, his jaw practically dislodging from his face as he stared at you.

Mattheo wolf whistled as he looked you up and down. Smirking as he pushed himself off the wall - "Damn Y/N, I didn't know you had this hiding somewhere"

"Neither did I" Theo's gaze burned through you as he bent his neck to get look at you from behind. Definitely a sight for sore eyes.

"I'm sorry- I fucked up a spell and I was running late I didn't mean to- OUCH! THEO!" you got cut off as he slapped his hand harshly against your ass before gripping a handful as he smirked down at you. The boys laughing at the pair of you.

"As much as I am thoroughly enjoying the sight Bella" He looked down at you, his gaze growing darker by each word that fell from his lips. He leaned in, practically growling in your ear."I don't like to share amore mio"

You gulped at his words as he pulled his jumper off, wrapping it around your waist. Slightly tugging on the fabric jerking you forward into his chest as he smiled down at you before kissing your forehead softly.

"As cute as you two are, everyone's looking. Can we clear out" Pansy groaned.

You snapped back into reality, quietly ushering an apology to the group as Pansy pulled your hand as you both walked hand in hand ahead of the boys.

You heard a smack and an 'ow' turning around quickly as you turned the corner seeing Theo slapping Mattheo across the head. "Flirt with someone else" He groaned. You giggled slightly at his protectiveness.

Once you arrived to the common room everyone scattered to do their own thing. Theo once more approaching you.

"Now..." a cheeky smile appeared on his lips as his hands held your hips softly as he peered down at you. The height difference really getting to you. "I can't stop thinking about that little skirt on you.." His hands slowly moving down and around to the curve of your ass as he nibbled at his lip. "..and how much I want to fuck you in it" He whispered the last part lowly as his tongue poked out and slid across his bottom lip as he squeezed your ass through his jumper.

"Then do it" You caught his gaze, already out of breath from his minimal touch.

It's like that's all he needed to hear. Like without warning and no regards for the fact your friends were just a few steps away bundled in the corner on the coaches - he pulled you tightly, hand on your ass against him as his lips crushed into yours. Needy kisses as if he hasn't kissed you in months.

The sudden rip of his jumper loosening the knot as it dropped to the floor. His hands sliding under the little fabric the skirt had as his nails gripped into the flesh on your ass cheeks. You yelped slightly and he took that as permission to shove his whole tongue down your throat. The kisses grew messier and messier as you both backed up towards the stairs, bumping into everything possible as you both chuckled.

Breaking the kiss as you both removed various pieces of clothing as you scrambled up the stairs. By the time you got to yours and Pansys' room you both had disregarded of practically everything. Theo quickly finishing unzipping his trousers before pushing you into the room, kicking the leg off quickly, flinging his trousers into the centre of the hallway as he shut the door behind him.

You stood infront of him in just your skirt, bra and panties as he ruffled his hair, staring at you like a kid in a candy shop, pondering what you try next.

"DONT WORRY WE'LL CLEAN UP AFTER YOU TWO!" Draco yelled, annoyance plastered in his voice.

That broke Theo out of the trance he was in as he lunged at you, unclipping your bra swiftly as he threw it across the room before pushing you against the bed.

"Fuck, I'm so hard. I can't- I just need to fuck you now" He groaned, biting at his lip anxiously as he stared down at you. "Get on all fours". You obliged and quickly.

You felt the sudden cold breeze against your clit as he tightly yanked on your thong, splitting it apart at he threw it on the floor aswell as he kicked off his boxers.

"Fuck your so hot" He groaned, dropping to his knees as he gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks wide as he licked a nice wet strip up your pussy.

A moan lodged itself in your neck as you bundled up the sheets in your hands as he let out a shaky breath.

"Wanna eat you out so bad, but my cock is throbbing.. Need to treat you well tho" He whined as he spat into his hand as he began to fuck it. His free hand gripping your ass as he dove his tounge deep into you.

You hung your head forward as you let out an exasperated sigh as your toes curled. Theo's tongue worked wonders inside of you. He ate you out like it was dire need. The roughness of his mouth sopping against your pussy as his tongue drilled into your hole. The wetness of both his mouth and your pussy mixing as he moaned against you as he continued to fuck the shit out of his hand. Loud moans rumbled against you as he sucked and twirled like no tomorrow.

You were drawing to your high as you noticed he stopped, pulling away for a moment as he let out a deep growl before a light whimper escaped his lips as he came up the bottom of your bed frame and on the floor. He panted for a moment, light whimpers leaving gis mouth as he toyed with his sensitive dick.

"Fuck- Sorry Principessa. I came, naughty of me to do so before I helped you. I'll make sure you feel extra good" His other hand colliding with your ass again as he dove back in. His nose rubbing harshly against your slit as he flicked his tongue continously against your clit. Sucking and nibbling at it from time to time as he continued to grip and massage at your ass.

The sudden overwhelming feeling drove you over the age as you screeched, yelping as you squirted all over his face. You gasped loudly, crashing to the bed as your legs shook slightly as you panted.

"Mhmm.. Love it when you squirt" You looked at Theo as he wiped the cum from his face, sucking his fingers like a dessert he's got to finish.

"You're so gorgeous, so fucking beautiful.. Beautiful body" He groaned as he slid his hands up your curves, moaning softly as the scene infront of him. "S'lucky.. So fucking lucky.."

He tapped your thigh, as you led on your stomach on the bed, your legs hanging off the end slightly as your tippy toes held against the floor.

"Gunna make you feel so good, amore" he cooed as he lied up his tip with your slit before thrashing it in harshly. You yelped once again at you looked back at him.

"Going to teach you not. to wear. a slut. short. skirt. again. fuck!" He growled with each thrust as your body jerked against his movements. Your body slid up and down the bed as your feet struggled to stay on the floor much longer as he pushed you up the bed.

It wasn't before long till Theo climbed ontop of you, straddling you as he drilled into you. Loud whimpers left you as you clawed at the sheets as you screamed into his duvet.

"FUCK!! ARGH- TEDDY!" you pleaded as your back arched, shoving your ass harder into him as his hands gripped your hips tightly, his nails scatting cresent moons to your flesh as your bodies recoiled against one another.

"Yes! Like that.. fuckkk Teddy more..  please!" You babbled. He reached over grabbing your neck as he pulled your body up against his chest. Your legs trapped between his as he squeezed them shut. His arm tightly against your stomach as he continued to drill up into your pussy. You gasped and whined continously as he groaned and growled into your ear. His grip growing tighter around your neck as he flexed his biceps, his tongue sliding up your jawline to your ear.

"Teddy- I'm gunna cum! Please please please PLEASE! Cum with me!" you whined as your eyes rolled back. The growing feeling in your stomach as his cock continued to thrash into you. You were drunk on the feeling of him buried into you. You tightly shut your thighs together for any ounce more of pressure you could grasp.

"Good girl- M'close" He panted.

Your eyes began to roll back as you gasped for air at the tightening of his arm around your neck. The bursting feeling in your stomach as your whole body recoiled and shook as you screamed like bloody murder with all the air you has left in your lungs as you came.

At that moment Theo threw you down, as your body twitched conthously. He gripped your ass as he thrusted deep before cumming in you. Groaning deeply as he threw his head back. Sweat trickling down his forehead and chest as he panted heavily.

Neither of you moved for a moment to compose yourself. You occasionally twitched at your body recoiled against his dick.

"Fuck me.. So good" Theo pulled out, sighing as he watched cum pool at your slit and began to slide down. You felt his tip against you again as he collected the escaping cum and slightly fucked it back into you. His dick entering you once more as you gasped at the feeling.

"Good girl.. such a good girl.." His light thrusts as he peppered you with kisses all over your back and shoulders.

He gasped slightly as he froze above you. You were about to question him till you felt a slightly release.

"Did you just cum again Teddy?" You giggled as he thrusted once more before pulling out and collapsing next to you.

"Its hard to last with you. You make me so addicted" He smirked, his head turned to look at you. He rested his hand on your ass, squeezing it lightly from time to time.

"I'm glad this skirt shrunk" He chuckled, his smile wide.

You shook your head as you laughed at him. "You're a fool" You shimmied towards him, flicking your leg over his chest as you cuddled into him. His body warm.

He kissed your shoulder softly before softly kissing your cheek, nibbling at your ear before whispering;

"Ti amo amore mio".

If you enjoyed this fic and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I please request Bill thinking he finally found a human who won't betray him, someone he really enjoyed the company of (but would never admit to that because Bill) only to find them trying to destroy the portal?

This is long as shit, be warned and I tried to keep bill in character as much as possible but he might be ooc at some points.

Your first meeting with Bill was one he didn’t expect. When faced with something you know isn’t normal, the response Bill was expecting was you running away until you were out of sight, talking off the ears of anyone who’d head your warning but you instead smiled at him.

‘Nice bow tie and top hat sentient triangle.’ You said.

‘The names Bill Cipher, so you can stop calling me that name, I find it rather insulting, and thanks! I dress to impress but most people just run away or scream bloody murder to appreciate my effort to look presentable’ he replies, finding himself a new human pet to play with after swearing to himself that Sixer would be the last, Bill was a liar and he knew it, messing with humans and destroying their physique was the most genuine fun he’s had in a long, long while.

This was merely the begging of yours and Bills weird friendship and it was only going to get weirder from this point onwards.

Being friends with a sentient triangle dream demon was…a experience indeed as you’d often wake to him floating above you, drinking something through a silly straw and wearing a hat unlike the usual slim black top hat he wore, only to find out that he had somehow snuck several chicken into your room that had scaly dragon legs and could breath fire.

That took a while for you to get ride of them with a wooden broom and not have it set on fire when the chickens retaliate with fire.

‘How did you find such things?’ You’d ask Bill when sitting down to eat breakfast.

He shrugs. ‘You search for a realm that swaps certain anatomy of animals and play a demented game of mix and match to see what monstrosities to humanity could be made and bingo! Infinite possibilities of scaring or scaring people for the rest of their lives! ha ha!’

‘And chickens with dragon feet and could breath fire is your go to choice, wasn’t there anything else you could’ve chosen from?’ You inquired as you took a bite of your breakfast and immediately grimacing when you felt something was off.

‘Oh sure there was and- oh you’ve found where I put my mealworms from last week.’ Bill casually told you as he plays with his silly straw while you spat your breakfast out into a nearby bin, wiped your mouth before pushing the plate away from you as your appetite was ruined.

'glad to be of help. buddy.' you replied as you decided that it would be best to wait for bill to disappear before attempting to eat and or drink again.

As the weeks progress Bill found himself enjoying your company more than he originally suspected, sure you were fun to mess with and play impractical pranks on from time to time. However -and he’ll never admit this ever- he had come to actually enjoy spending time with you and getting to know you outside of his personal human plaything.

Bill begrudgingly remembered your least favourite family member and why, your favourite colour, your first pets name and so much more that he would deem unimportant; to things that were deep and personal to you such as your fear of being alone or not taken seriously enough. To which he offered some -albeit questionable- advice.

‘Listen if everyone takes themselves seriously or someone wants everyone else to take them seriously, then who’s going to laugh at kids when they fall over, or at people who make an fool of themselves as they fall upon their own sword of hubris.’ Bill tells you once as you both sat on the roof of your home, star gazing.

‘And what am I meant to take away from all that ?’ You asked, not understanding what he was getting with this.

‘Don’t take yourself too seriously or expect others to either when you know that version of yourself will be someone you’ll sooner regret wishing for.’ Bill responded.

‘Do you miss home?’ You then asked him out of the blue and Bill couldn’t help but be a little taken aback by it.

‘Home..’ bill trailed off as he took his hat off, reached a hand inside and pulled out a glowing atom, the remains of his home. ‘This is what remains of my home.’ He tells you rather sombrely, remembering the last time he told a human of his origins, only for him to dedicate himself into destroying him.

‘I’m..I’m so sorry I didn’t-‘ you’d tried to apologise but bill held up a hand as he returned the remains of his home back into his top hat before putting it back on his head.

‘It’s fine. I was bound to tell you about that sooner or later.’ He waves his hand but you could tell you struck a nerve.

‘Sooo…what happened to your home, only if you don’t mind me asking.’ - you

‘It was destroyed by a monster.’ Bill answered with a distant look in his eye.

‘As stupid as this will probably sound to you but you’ll always have a home with me, I hope you know that.’ You told him with the most genuine smile across your face and Bill couldn’t help but feel…touched by your words. He’s thrown and done everything to push you to the brink and all you’ve done was withstand him and his shenanigans all the while standing your ground.

‘You’re a strange human and your sentimentality makes me physically sick but…I guess I appreciate the thought.’ Bill had to force himself to say, he might as well have swallowed down stones with how hard it seemed for him to say anything remotely considerate. You were quite possibly the only human that showed him kindness and compassion and that made the dream demon feel weird and out of his depth.

Now that Bill was thinking about it not once had you ever given him a reason to distrust you, sure he was suspicious of you at first, but overtime you have proven yourself to be the most trustworthy person in his long, long life. You had made him feel unlike anything he’s felt before and that made him on edge, just in the case that he was being lured into a false sense of security later down the line, but nope you didn’t do such a thing and stayed open and honest him no matter what.

It almost made bill feel bad about the shit he put you through but soon he’d come to regret saying these words, for not even a week later and Bill caught you red handed destroying his portal after searching the house for you when you didn’t greet him like usual.

‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!’ He screamed, his body burning brightly at the betrayal you’ve just committed, was everything you said a lie? Were you just as good at pulling people along as he was? How long have you been waiting for this exact moment to get back at him?

‘What does it look like, I’m destroying the portal.’ Your reply was stone cold as you continued to dismantle the portal piece by piece while Bill shouted profanities at you.

‘YOU LIED TO ME!’ - bill

‘That’s cute coming from someone who takes sick enjoyment in breaking every human he comes across, pushing them into utter madness with no remorse!’ You chuckled humourlessly as you looked at the dream demon who looked about ready to either cry or combust.

‘YOU LIED TO ME!’ Bill repeated as his anger only grew stronger the more he began to think back on all of your heart to heart moments and wonder whether they were fake too? Did you not mean it when you said that he had a home with you?

‘I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.’ You retorted. ‘Now are you going to shut up and kill me or keep ranting on how I somehow betrayed you because either way I don’t care.’ You added as you watched the triangular demon closely.

‘Kill you? Oh no sweetie, you’ve just earned a fate WORSE THEN DEATH! Eternal torture until you speak the truth and then torture you so more because I find your pathetic humans pain funny!’ Bill laughed maniacally. ‘And to think I was starting to like you, you just had to go and stab me in the back!’

You shrug, trying to hide how scared you were in this moment, knowing that even if you did scream for help it would be far too late by the time Ford, Stan or either dipper or Mabel to save you and you were okay with that. ‘First time for everything right?’ You asked with a smile. ‘I’m sure you’ll get use to it sooner or later.’

Bill’s eye was wide and looking maniacal in the moment as his voice was oddly and unnervingly calm that it froze your blood. ‘You humans might act brave in the face of danger, but what I’m capable will have you wishing you never picked up that wrench or tried playing the hero. For playtime is over.’

[tteokdoroki]

Im so horny for kirishima i fear :(

i love how big and safe he is. how he covers you with his body and forces you into the mattress. how he kisses and sucks at your neck when you cry because even his cockhead is too big for you. how he puts his hand on your tummy or the small of your back to keep you in place when he pounds you silly. how webs of his precum sling around between your thighs and catch on your clit because his dick is so big and so weighty he can’t help but leak all over the place. how he doesn’t realise the force behind his thrusts is enough to shake the bed frame and enough to make it break. and how, if it wasn’t for his bulking arms wrapped around you, your body would be flying up the sheets :(

i love how he’d rip chunks out of wooden headboards when he uses it as leverage to force his way past the tight ring of your hole — pushing orgasm after orgasm after you. i love how kirishima would smile, maybe even laugh every time you cum and the world tilts on its axis and he has to stop pumping his thick dick into you because you’re shaking so much he thinks you might stop breathing.

i love how kirishima would stop mid fuck to tie his hair back with your scrunchie, sweating out the red dye in his hair as it pearls against his forehead. how he’d reach down and loop your weak arms around his neck, sitting back on his haunches before pressing a quick kiss to your sweaty cupid’s bow. his cock, all wet and milky never once slipping out of you.

“you think you can bounce on it, baby? manage another?”

[lerokpaw]

🐉Dragon grass 🐉

You lit incense, but you didn't even think what it would lead to

!!!nsfw !!! !!! 18+ !!!

! All characters 18+!

Female reader

Sorry english don't my first language. But I hope you enjoy it 🐉

Status : Couple Y/N - Perfect (The head of a dilapidated dormitory)

A small heat source in the form of a green firefly lit the way for one of the most mysterious people in Twisted Wonderland or for you Tsunagotaro/Mal Mal/Malleus. His task at the moment was to see your face, or rather a smile on it. But first of all, to invite you on a little evening date. You and the future king of the Valley of Thorns have been dating for about six months and one of his favorite pleasures was to see you in a good mood, and if his favorite combo in the form of you, gargoyles, your love and beautiful art, which he saw in all of the above, were collected in one place and at one time, then Malleus was literally melting with love. And in the sky you could see how the stars were shining brighter. Wandering in his thoughts, the Dragon discovered that he nuzzled your door, while accidentally touching the bell with his horn, and he notified the resident of the Dilapidated dormitory of his majesty's presence. Hearing rapid footsteps on the stairs, the so-called Tsunagotaro moved away from the door and waited for your face to appear in its crack.

-Hello, Mal Mal! -"Greetings, my dear," horned smiled with his trademark gentle smile.

-Oh, listen - She slightly covered the already small gap as if to show that he does not have to see what is behind it. But now Malleus' interest has only grown.

-Yes, honey?

-I understand that you probably came for me on a date, but I'm a little unprepared… And could we sit here in the dorm today?

-I dare not refuse my dear couple this request, - he bowed familiarly You laughed a little

-Then come on in, I'm sorry, I'm a little at home.. I'm going to run to the kitchen for ice cream and return it, go to my room for now.

-Ice cream? Won't you need any help? - he already imagined how his favorite dish would be on his tongue.

-It's not worth it! Come into the room! - I was already shouting from the kitchen. The old wooden floorboards and stairs creaked under your boyfriend's feet. He was slowly moving deeper into the dorm when he felt a pleasant and sweet smell in his nose. Approaching your room, he realized that this fragrance was coming from there. When he entered, he saw Grim, who also exchanged a glance, but no longer friendly

-"Henchman, you brought that Tsunagotaro again without my knowledge! Malleus just narrowed his eyes and smiled at the furry creature.

-Don't go make-up, please, if something doesn't suit you, then go downstairs - she shouted through the whole dorm

-I'll actually go to the Adeuce duo then! At that moment, the monster ran out the door and pointedly slammed it -Sorry, Small, for this performance - she said calmly as she approached the room

-It's okay, I understand, my dear

-Your ice cream

-Thank you very much

Sit on the bed Have you started noticing how your boyfriend's pale face is starting to turn purple?

-Honey, are you hot?

-what? Oh, I'm sorry, I don't quite understand what's going on.. Am I just not used to it?

-Hmm, do you have an allergy to herbs?

-As far as I know, no, why? - now he was interested in what was happening to his body.

-Well, I just lit incense.. And I thought maybe they made you feel bad.

he approached you slowly and carefully, trying not to scare you off

- Can I smell you? -N-an unexpected offer- you blushed slightly - but I don't mind - you pushed the hair that was lying on your neck to the side, as if trying to tie it into a bunch

-Thank you - Mal said almost in a whisper and approached your neck inhaling the armat and now his previous sensations have doubled. As if waking up, he jumped back.

-I just don't know… It seems to me… - after these words, he attacked you with a sensual kiss. You've kissed before, but this… It was something that foreshadowed something more. After you stopped getting enough air.

-As if I want all of you - finally the thought was complete.

-What!? I'm sorry!? He abruptly leaned back from you

-Oh, I'm sorry.. I just.. I don't know what came over me Malleus rubbed the back of his head confused

-No! It's not that I'm against ours.. Continuations.. You started gesturing actively

-It's just me.. I didn't expect you to. Similar actions

-Hmm really? Malleus said, approaching you with a slightly mischievous smile and half-open eyes.

-Y-Yes! I am.. Sorry. I'm a little nervous.

-Maybe then you're not ready? I'll understand.. I won't insist - he gently took your hand and kissed it gently

-I didn't say that! It's just… this.. Nervous

-Are you afraid of me? -No! I love you very much! And as you can see, when you're so close to me, I don't push you away. Because I'm not afraid..

-Then I'll try to be gentle... Malleus smiled at you tenderly and ran his hand over your cheek You're blushing

- You always know how to embarrass me. Tsunagotaro gently ran his hand down your neck and ran his fingers a little over the top of your pajamas. He pressed his nose against your shoulder and inhaled the fragrance, his pupils sharply narrowed

-Darling? - He said in a slightly trembling voice

-What is it?

-Are you sure you agree to what happens next? I won't be able to restrain myself..

-Yes.. Just be gentle to start with You felt his smile appearing on your skin. It was important for him to hear the permission from your mouth. Now small spikes and a tail began to show on his back. Although it wasn't visible through his clothes yet

-Good...- he slowly began to take off your shirt. After he took it off, he said

-Darling.. I didn't think your kind had such cute gadgets..

He pointed to his chest and gently kneaded it with his hands

-Tell me if it hurts you. even in his lust-intoxicated state, he tried to take care of you. -M?!

She turned her head away, blushing

-Except yours.. Is there no view of them?

-There is, but I never paid attention to it…

He leaned against the chest area with a languid look and began to kiss her slowly and sensually.

-Mm.. The taste is as incredible as the smell ~

After his words, you whimpered softly while he kissed you and smiled, and his hands slowly made their way to the area below your stomach. Now Malleus was slowly sliding towards your stomach and was already kissing you there.

-Mm~ My rose.. Will you let me go on?

-Yes.. Oh sure The horned fairy grinned and his hands pulled the elastic of your night pants a little, gently pulling them off you. After that, your underwear became his barrier to your wonderful taste, he puffed up a little from this fact. But he continued to slowly spend his hands removing this obstacle, while feeling like you were already wet. Pushing your legs apart a little, the scent of your arousal hit him right in the nose and the smell of incense gave him even more strength to continue.

-It really looks like rose petals.. - he said, spreading your vulva

-Mm!? Where.. How? Where did you find this comparison? - She said, looking at him with one raised eyebrow

-Well.. He massaged it a little with his fingers and looked down intently.

-It's a little awkward..

-What could be more embarrassing than my position in front of you?

-Hehe, you're a darling.. Once.. When I was younger, I became interested in the topic.. Mating. And I asked Lilia what it was like.. Well, he told me that "everything is so beautiful for women that I look like rose petals" Frankly, I did not believe him, and I did not quite understand what he was talking about. But now that I see it all in person.. His words make sense

-Well, that's an interesting comparison..

-Do you think so?~ - he said in a seductive tone when his face was between your legs, where he slowly ran his tongue between the folds -Mh!? - you jumped a little out of surprise, thereby hitting him a little in the nose with your hips

-Honey, calm down.. Otherwise, I'll go crazy before I give us pleasure~ I'm already holding on with all my strength so as not to eat you.. That smell.. Intoxicating~ - Malleus tightened his grip on your legs, scratching them a little with his claws, starting to run his tongue up and down.

-Mmm~

-That's what I wanted to hear, my rose ~ -

He mimicked the movements of his tongue in your petals. Quickly finding the middle, he rushed there. Each time, his movements became more violent, as he quickly began to lose his composure. Listening to your moans, he couldn't hold back his own mooing, thereby sending you impulses that didn't help you not melt in his grip.

-Ah! - From his accidental sharp thrust, you moaned and mechanically moved your hands to his horns. With these actions, you finally pulled the trigger from the dragon, who was now furiously beating his tongue at you and your petals

Driving in like that for a couple more minutes, you felt a wave of pleasure begin to catch up with you. Malleus felt your back begin to arch and your legs to shake.

-Mm~ Have you already?

-Don't talk.. Ah! Go on..

-Hehe - you felt his smile tremble in you

-Mmm~Ah! - when he hit you with his tongue the last time, you sprayed him in the face, squeezing between his legs. The dragon rose slowly, carefully releasing your legs. His eyes were sparkling with a green light, and his whole face was in your netar. He licked his face and approached your already breathless face.

-Malleus.. phew..

-Yes, my rose ~ before you say it, I want to say that you are magnificent both in taste and aroma, as befits a flower ~

-You.. The dragon is too greedy..

-Naturally ~ - he gently tucked your hair behind your ear.

-Phew..

-Are you ready to continue? ~ - Malleus is clearly pissed off after your taste

-WHAT!? We just did..

-Hehe, this is just the beginning, I want to feel your nectar not only on my lips ~

-You.. You're vulgar! - you got up and hit him with a pillow

Ahaha, darling, but you like it ~ He stopped you by grabbing your hand - And since you're already so active, I can continue~

The incense finally burned out.. But the smell of "Dragon Grass" has long filled the whole room..

[svearehnn]

black violets and baby's breath | modern!azriel x bridesmaid!reader

summary: feyre and rhys are finally getting married! the tension between you and azriel is palpable.

a/n: part two will be coming soon! once i get my essay done lmao. i hope you enjoy! (i didn’t edit this apologies)

Cobalt blue hugged your form in a silky sheen, falling just above your white ankle heels. You let out a shuttering breath as you smoothed the fabric down, fiddling with the sparkling jewelry that adorned your ears, wrists, and neck. 

You were nervous. Feyre was getting married, your best friend. It was so thrilling to be apart of her wedding party, but you couldn’t help the racing of your heart at the thought of being escorted down the aisle by none other than Azriel, your long term crush and childhood friend. You eyed yourself in the mirror. It was obvious that you looked stunning–cobalt was your color, and a polished look seemed to compliment your angelic fae-like features.

However, you couldn’t find it within yourself to step out of the room. You chuckled sardonically to yourself, fluffing your hair, reapplying your lip gloss, doing anything to delay your inevitable exit. You weren’t even the bride, yet it felt as though you had pre-wedding jitters.

A knock sounded on the door, and you closed your eyes. One deep breath in, out through your mouth, and you opened the oak door. Mor stood on the other side, her brown eyes dazzling.

“You ready?” She squealed, excitement palpable in her buzzing form. You nodded hesitantly and took her hand. She squeezed it, a comforting gesture that helped soothe your rampant nerves.

“It’ll be okay. Az is going to think you’re beautiful. I mean, he always does, but goddamn do you look like a goddess right now.” That forced a giggle from your throat, prompting a smile to form on Mor’s striking features.

“There’s that gorgeous smile! Now come on.” Your blonde friend dragged you down the stairs, causing you to stumble in your heels. Once you got to the wooden staircase, you descended hand in hand. Nerves encased your soul, bees buzzing and stinging in your stomach. 

Yet, once you rounded the curve of the stairs and your eyes locked on Azriel’s hazel ones, all the nerves seemed to fade away. His eyes widened, brows raising, lips turning upward in an imperceptible smile that only you could catch. You bowed your head, cheeks aflame as you continued your decline. 

Mor had disappeared, arms wrapped around Emerie, leaving you alone with the railing gripped between bone white fingertips. Azriel outstretched his hand and you took it gingerly, letting him guide you down the last few steps and onto the natural wooden floors of Feyre and Rhys’ River House.

The two of you stood like that for a moment, no words exchanged, just drinking each other in. Azriel wore a black tux, a cobalt tie adorning his neck, accentuating the tattoos that peeked through the black collar of his shirt. His ears held their signature silver hoops and secondary studs, his fingers adorned with bands of silver and stone. He had slicked back his dark hair and it looked nice, yet all you wanted to do was muss it up to its usual messy demeanor.

Azriel spoke first, licking his lips and smacking them before he spoke. “You look…wow. Just phenomenal, Little Star.” He hummed, appreciation coating his tone. He raised your hand, twirling you around in a slow circle, eyeing the slit that went up to your hip and the low V that showed off your collarbones. The blush that filled your features warmed your skin to a feverish glow from his compliments.

“You look wonderful yourself, Azriel.” You murmured, looking him up and down slowly, drinking in every aspect, every detail of the godly male in front of you. He smirked, biceps flexing ever so slightly beneath the fabric of his tux. He held out the crook of his arm as the music began to filter in through the hallway, signaling the start of the ceremony.

“Are you ready, my beautiful bridesmaid?” You accepted his arm gratefully, unusually quiet within this newfound adoration that he was throwing at you.

“Lead the way, my handsome groomsman.” You replied, swallowing thickly. His arm was rock hard beneath your touch, an obvious indication of his and Cassian’s daily gym ventures.

The two of you walked arm in arm to the french doors that lead to the backyard wedding that Feyre and the rest of the wedding party had set up beautifully.

Cassian and Nesta led the line, the oldest Archeron dressed in a stunning dark red dress that matched Cassian’s tie. Then came Elain and Lucian in sparkling gold akin to the setting sun. Mor and Emerie followed, adorned in midnight purple. Behind them trailed Amren and Varian in their signature North Sea blue.

At the strike of the piano, Azriel gave you a small smile and stepped forward, leading you through the glass doors. The sun was blinding, but even through your squinted eyes you could see the flower arch at the alter filled with calla lilies and black violets, baby’s breath dotted in between. You and Azriel floated on a walkway of white peony petals, eyes hardly leaving each other’s, unable to stop drinking each other in.

It was as if a tension had electrified the air between the two of you the second he had set his sights on you when you meandered down the staircase. Your heart was a doldrum in your chest, begging to break through your ribs, taut and strained. As if Azriel could sense your trepidation, he squeezed your arm in a comforting touch.

He leaned down, breath against your ear, the smell of cedar encompassing your senses. “Breathe, Little Star.” You did as told, lungs expanding, nerves unfolding into the atmosphere and disappearing on the wind. Azriel’s thumb traced patterns into the skin of your forearm, soothing you further.

Your eyes left his, landing on Rhys at the altar. His eyes were alight, a slight smirk on his lips. He glanced between you and Azriel with a raised brow. A blush rose on your cheeks. His smirk widened, shoulders peacocking as though he knew he was right. Which, he usually was, you thought. You wouldn’t dwell on it–at least, not now. It was Feyre’s day, not yours.

The song came to an end as you and Azriel reached the dais, parting to reach your respected positions with you on the left and him on the right. As you turned, he grabbed your hand, extending your arm and bringing it up to press a kiss to the soft skin. Without another word he turned, leaving you stunned. Mor had to pull you to her side, her excitement palpable.

“Oh my gods!” She exclaimed, but you hardly heard her as the music started back up and the doors opened. Feyre stepped out, her black dress sparkling in the sun. Sheer fabric covered her arms and her her chest, flowing down into an intrinsic pattern of swirls similar to that of hers and Rhys’ tattoos. It was skin tight down to her knees, the skirt billowing out below, covering her black heels. She looked exquisite. It was impossible for you to take your eyes off of her, and if you were able to look around, you would notice that it was the same for everyone else.

When she reached the altar, Rhys took her hands, helping her up the marble steps with tears lining his waterline. They lined yours, as well.

Gwyn stood behind the couple, hands clasped in front of her, a smile etched onto her face. Words flowed out of her lips, Feyre and Rhys repeating every syllable as salty water flowed freely down their cheeks until the final I do.

Rhys dipped his wife in a passionate kiss, oblivious to the ovation happening around them from their closest friends. When they rose, Feyre raised her bouquet in the air, pride hanging heavy around her, a glow emanating from her skin.

Everyone rose in unison as if in prayer.

“To the new Mrs. and Mr. Carynthian!” Mor called out next to you, her voice carrying through the garden. Voices echoed after her, singing reverants to the newlyweds. As she walked back down the aisle, hand in hand with Rhys, bouquet in hand, everyone cheered as they passed. They congregated behind them, tears flowing, applause echoing through the space as if it were an ancient cathedral. 

Feyre stopped before she entered the house. She turned towards everyone, a grin plastered on her lips, a wink highlighting her stormy eyes. She threw her bouquet high up in the air. Hands reached up toward the Mother, itching to be the one to catch the bundle of violets. 

They fell gingerly into your waiting palms as if there was some kind of divine interference. You blinked slowly, locking eyes with Feyre. They sparked with mischief before her and Rhys disappeared behind the French doors. 

Your heart pulled taut again as you fiddled with the black petals, their touch akin to a feather within your fingertips. Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the shadow towering over you until a hand landed on your chin, tilting your head so your eyes met Azriel’s. 

“How was that for a ceremony?” He asked, breathless, eyes wide, pupils dilated. You swallowed, chest fluttering.

“It was beautiful.” Your voice came out within less than a whisper. He smiled, one only reserved for you, as he tucked a strand of your hair behind an ear. His hand stayed there for a moment before pulling back, as if he were debating about running his fingers along the length of your cheek.

“You caught the bouquet, too.” You glanced down at the flowers in question, their fragrant smell filtering through your lungs every time you inhaled. 

“I did. I don’t know why the universe gave it to me though, I’m not even close to getting married.” The words fell out of your mouth haphazardly before you could stop them. Azriel chuckled, hands shoved into his pockets, tensing within the linen slacks.

“Have you ever thought about getting married?” Heat rose from your neck to your cheeks. You hadn’t, honestly. The only person you could dream of marrying was him, yet you knew that was far fetched. Even with the energy buzzing around the two of you, the idea would fade within a week. It was just the presence of a wedding, you thought. Nothing would change. Azriel’s hazel eyes were intense, gazing directly into your soul for what seemed like eternity until Mor bumped your arm.

“Come on! We have to get ready for the reception.” You smiled at him as Mor dragged you away by the arm, your eyes never leaving his even as you disappeared behind the same doors that Feyre did. As you and your blonde friend climbed the same steps you had descended only an hour ago, the thought of marrying Azriel swirled through your mind like a tornado, wreaking havoc on any other thought that was there. Maybe it was possible. Maybe Azriel was interested in you. Only time would tell, and maybe, at the reception, the tension between the two of you would lift and reveal the secrets that were hidden beneath hardened hearts.

tags: @kayjaywrites

[merthosus]

Desperation

Summary: After Five has gone to hell and back to prevent the end of the world and save his whole family, it drives him insane to do it a second time. Despite all his efforts not to let humanity go to ruin, it feels like an endless loop. After a long evening of martinis and some more martinis, he stumbles through the hotel door of a stranger. Not only is he surprised that the face behind the door looks familiar, but also the fact that she was just getting ready for bed.

Here a sexy poster from Five I fell in love with! With every purchase you automatically support me :) https://amzn.to/3yGK6Fm

"So her beauty would be never forgotten no matter in which timeline"

The terrible feeling of powerlessness made Number Five reach for the glass again and again. No matter how many times he tried, no matter how great his efforts, it was hopeless. The thought of giving up plagued him more than he thought. But he had to be strong, not for himself, but for his siblings. The only place where they still felt safe was this hotel, a collection point for criminals of all kinds who didn't want to be found so quickly. You met all kinds of people in the corridors. Be it the woman who treated her dog like a child or Diego's son, who left a trail behind him with his leaking ear, just like in Hänsel and Gretel. Behind every hotel room door was a different personality that you definitely wouldn't have expected.

It was relatively difficult for Five to stay on his feet, and not just this evening. The usually so dressed up Five stumbled from corridor to corridor, searching in vain for his bed. He actually had a good feeling for how much alcohol he could drink, but after having to return to his young body, he had forgotten that his liver was not quite the same as that of a sixty-year-old. His hair, usually so tightly pulled back, was disheveled and strands were hanging out. His shirt was anything but pressed and his bow tie hung loosely around his neck. The only thing he had in mind, was his cozy bed, waiting for him in one of this many bedrooms.

He didn't know exactly why, but he was drawn to a particular door, number 45. The door was no different in any way from the other 123 he had seen on his tour, but like a moth to a lantern, he was drawn in that direction. The temptation to simply walk past the wooden door without paying attention to it was impossible for Five. He wondered whether it was really his gut feeling or perhaps the few drops too many. He decided not to think about it any longer and took a step towards the door. His long, thin fingers gripped the knob and Five felt no resistance. The door was only ajar. This couldn't be a coincidence.

He opened the door as quietly as his alcohol-soaked body would allow him. Then he leaned against the doorframe. He couldn't believe who was standing in front of him. His mouth was agape with astonishment, but also with admiration. His thoughts no longer had any self-control. The usually rational Five couldn't stop the thoughts flowing through his head. Y/n stood a few meters in front of him, his former colleague from the commission who had disappeared at some point. Five had never expected to see her again, especially not half naked. Still his mouth wasn't closed, admiring what was standing in front of him. She's lifting her long armed shirt, stretching her torso. He was leaving none of her body parts unwatched.

Her shining thighs, which doubled in size when she sat down. Oh God, how many times Five had had to sit differently to hide his arousal, how many times he had negotiated with the handler to go on missions with her instead of alone. Years of suffering, years of unsatisfied lust, years of concealed love. Five didn't move an inch to not draw attention to himself and scare her off. Five wondered how long he could hold out. He would stand at this very door for hours, starving, just to keep looking at her. Her stretch marks, which piled up on her like the waves of the sea. Her beautiful back which was covered in tattoos. Everything about her was as perfect for Five as the stone carved figures from Greece. Every time he looked at her, he remembered the beautiful figures and vowed to, one day, carve one of her. So her beauty would be never forgotten no matter in which timeline.

The more he focuses his thoughts on her, the less control he has over his body. He stumbles forward and barely manages to hold on to the Anden doorframe with his left hand. Suddenly, Y/n's head shoots up and she has just tried to pick up her T-shirt. Startled, she presses the scrap of fabric against her unclothed upper body. It feels like she is swallowing her air when she sees the drunken Five standing at the doorway. "Five…" she whispers to herself. "Mademoiselle Y/n," Five bows, trying in vain not to fall over. "W… what are you doing here?" she asks as she quickly pulls her T-shirt over her head. "You shouldn't be in this timeline," she mumbles to herself. Five laughs to avoid showing his true emotions. "So you're still working for the Commission. Funny, after you just disappeared like that," he says as he closes the door behind him and takes a step towards her.

"Five I needed to… It was this or killing you. The handler gave me no choice. You turned against her, what else was I supposed to do?" she asked. Five thought before walking towards her with quick yet shaky steps. He stopped just before her and tapped her heart with his finger. "You could have stayed with me. I can't believe it, after everything we've been through together," Five shakes his head. "Not a day has gone by that I haven't thought about you, Five," Y/n confesses, looking at him. Despite the transformation back into his youthful body, Five was taller than her, Y/n struggled to look him in the eye. So much pain was reflected in them. "I've been looking everywhere for you Y/n," he breathes it out rather than saying it.

Thank you for reading love :)

[loulouwrites]

CHRISTMAS . TOMMY SHELBY

summary: a tale of five christmases word count: 3.5k warnings: swearing, smoking, allusions to violence/horrors of war, criminal activity, angst, abandonment, longing, loss, ptsd, references to poverty, mentions of death and illness, no grace (yayy). a/n: she's baaack

Small Heath, Birmingham, early 1900s.

Her breath could be seen with every exhale in the small house, the frost creeping along the edges of the window panes. There was a bowl in the corner of the room, catching the droplets of condensation that creeped off the windowsill, stopping them from dripping onto the bare wood floors.

She huddled closer to the dying fire, the last of the coal had burned to nothing but ash hours ago, the last remanants of smoke making her chest hurt, but she didn't mind, too focused on tying her finest hair ribbon around the simple parcel. The scarf inside was nothing special - made of boring black wool she had stolen from her grandmother's knitting basket - but it was warm, and she knew he'd need it.

The cold bit her fingers as she tied the final knot, and for a moment she hesitated. She was not a talented knitter - her grandmother had told her as much - everything she knitted seemed to fall apart with a simple tug, and she worried the scarf would be more different. What if it fell apart when he wrapped it around his neck? What if he didn't like the boring colour? What if he didn't like it at all?

She shrugged off her concerns when she heard the front door open, the unmistakeable sound of her mother's footsteps echoing against the floor. She quickly stood, hiding the present behind her back, knowing her mother would be furious if she saw she had used the red hair ribbon to tie the brown paper together.

"I'm going to Tommy's," she called out to her mother as she ran out of the door, not listening to her mother call after her.

Tommy's house was always slightly warmer than hers. The Shelby's were not rich by any means, but they always seemed to have coal for the fire, and candles burning in every room.

She sat in the corner of the room, her legs crossed as she watched Tommy sat opposite her, his head bent low over a small wooden horse. His knife scraped gently against the wood, his breath slow and focused. When he was satisfied with his work, he glanced over at her, sitting by the fire with the parcel on her lap.

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the small package wrapped in a red bow.

“Something for you,” she replied, a sly smile curving her lips. "I'll give you it outside, it's too warm in here."

Warm wasn’t exactly how he’d describe the Shelby home, but he followed her anyway, tucking the little horse into his pocket. The street outside was still and quiet, the snow crunching under their boots as they made their way toward the edge of the yard.

She turned to him, cheeks pink from the cold, and held out the package. “Here.”

Tommy took it, untying the ribbon carefully, as if unwrapping something precious. Inside was a scarf, plain but tightly knit, the kind that promised warmth on even the coldest nights.

“I made it,” she said, her voice quieter now. “It’s not much, but I thought you could use it, since Arthur stole your old one.”

He was silent, his eyes focused on the plain black scarf, and she shuffled nervously on her feet.

"I know it's not very good. I've never been very good at knitting-"

"It's perfect," he interruped, looking up at her with a smile on his face - a real smile, even for him.

Digging into his pocket, he pulled out the wooden horse and placed it in her hand. “Here. I made this.”

Her eyes widened as she turned it over in her hands, tracing the curves with her fingers. The edges were slightly jagged, and the legs of the horse were unequal, but she smiled anyway. “Tommy, it’s beautiful.”

"I'll get you a real one someday," he said, his tone casual but his gaze serious. “A real horse, not just some toy.”

She laughed softly, but her smile faltered as she looked at him. "I know you will, Tommy."

They stood there for a long moment, the snow falling gently around them, before she pulled two sparklers from her coat. Lighting them with a match she’d swiped from the kitchen, she handed him one.

Under the dim light of the sparklers, they laughed, spinning them in circles that illuminated their faces.

"Will you really get me a real horse one day?"

"I promise."

And for that night, at least, they believed it.

Small Heath, Birmingham, Early 1910s

The church hall was alive with the sound of laughter, chatter, and the scratchy tunes of a gramophone playing festive melodies. Mismatched decorations hung from the walls, and candles flickered in makeshift lanterns, casting a golden glow over the modest Christmas gathering. The air was thick with the scent of cheap ale and smoke, a rare indulgence for the families of Small Heath.

She stood near the edge of the room, her gloved hands clutching a glass of lager, watching the couples twirl clumsily on the makeshift dance floor. Her gaze kept drifting, unbidden, to Tommy Shelby.

He was across the room, leaning against the wall with the kind of ease that made it impossible not to notice him. His cap was off, his dark hair slicked back, and his sharp blue eyes roamed the crowd like he was sizing up the room. Even now, dressed in his Sunday best, there was something nefarious about him, something that both drew her in and set her on edge.

When his eyes finally landed on her, a slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He pushed off the wall and made his way over, weaving effortlessly through the throng of people.

“You’re hiding,” he said when he reached her, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

“I’m not hiding,” she replied, her tone defensive, but her cheeks betrayed her with a flush of warmth.

“You are.” He leaned in closer, the scent of smoke and soap clinging to him. “Dance with me.”

She shook her head. “Tommy, I’m not—”

“You’re not what?” he interrupted, smirking. “Not a dancer? Or not brave enough to let me lead you?”

Before she could answer, he grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the floor, weaving through the couples until they found a spot. The music changed to a slower tune, and he placed one hand lightly on her waist, the other still holding hers.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, her voice soft but tinged with a hint of nervousness.

“Who says I’m doing this for you?” he teased, his grin playful. But there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something only she could see.

They swayed to the music, the world around them fading into a blur of laughter and candlelight. When they passed under the mistletoe hanging from a beam, Tommy stopped abruptly.

“Look at that,” he said, tilting his head up.

She followed his gaze, her heart racing. “Tommy—”

“You know the rules,” he said, his voice softer now, almost teasing. “Can’t break tradition.”

Before she could protest, he leaned in, brushing a quick, warm kiss against her cheek. Her breath caught, and he pulled back with a satisfied smirk.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” he said. But his teasing faded when he caught the look in her eyes.

“It's too warm in here,” she said, pulling away.

Tommy followed her outside, the sharp winter air hitting them both as they stepped into the quiet street. Snow was falling in soft, lazy flakes, dusting the pavement and muffling the sounds of the dance inside.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone gentler now.

She crossed her arms, staring at the snow. “It’s not what’s wrong. It’s what’s going to happen. You’re changing, Tommy. You're stealing more, and fighting more, and I don't want to be around that. I don't want to watch you go down...it'll happen soon enough."

He was quiet for a moment, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "You don't know anything."

"I know you beat that boy that stole from the bookies. I know because I had to tell the police you were with me."

"You didn't have to do anything," he shrugged.

"I did," she sighed, rubbing her temple with her fingers. "I did, because I don't want anything bad to happen to you, but if you keep going the way you are, I won't be able to help, and I'm scared that this is going to take you away from me."

Tommy’s jaw tightened, his breath visible in the cold as he looked down at the snow beneath his boots. “It’s not going to take me away,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I won’t let it.”

She shook her head, frustration and sadness spilling over. “You say that like you have control over it, Tommy. But you don’t. One day, someone’s going to hit back harder, or the coppers are going to get tired of turning a blind eye. And then what? What do I do then?”

He reached up then, rubbing the back of his neck as if he could shrug off the tension. “I’m doing what I have to do.” His voice softened. “For all of us. For my family. For you.”

She stared at him, her lips parting as if to argue, but the fight in her seemed to falter. “You think I care about that? About money or any of it? All I care about is you. And I’m scared I’m going to lose you—to this, to them, to yourself.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and Tommy finally moved, stepping into her space and pulling his hands from his pockets. Slowly, carefully, he reached out and took her hands in his, warming them in his rough, calloused grip.

“You’re not going to lose me,” he said firmly, his blue eyes locking onto hers. “I promise.”

“You can’t promise that, Tommy.” Her voice was barely a whisper now, the weight of her fear pressing down on every word.

“Maybe not,” he admitted, his tone quieter, more vulnerable. “But I’ll fight for it.”

For a long moment, they stood there, the only sounds the faint strains of music from the hall and the soft crunch of snow underfoot. Then, as if driven by some unspoken need to bridge the space between them, Tommy leaned in.

His lips brushed against hers, hesitant and tender, a fleeting moment of honesty in a world that felt anything but. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, and for the first time that night, he let out a quiet sigh.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” he murmured.

The snow continued to fall, blanketing the streets and muffling the chaos of the world around them. For now, at least, they had this moment, fragile and fleeting but undeniably theirs.

France, 1915

The trenches were eerily quiet that Christmas Eve, the usual sounds of gunfire and shouting replaced by a haunting stillness. The frost clung to every surface, the mud frozen solid, and the air carried the faint scent of pine from makeshift decorations some of the men had fashioned out of broken branches.

Tommy sat with his back against the damp wall of the trench, his hands fumbling with a parcel he’d received that morning. It was battered and smeared with dirt from its journey, but the familiar handwriting on the label stood out sharply.

He unfolded the scarf first, its wool scratchy but warm as he wrapped it around his neck. A small, silver charm slipped out next—a simple horseshoe. He turned it over in his fingers, his thumb brushing the smooth metal. Then came the photograph: a faded snapshot of two children standing in the snow, her scarf wrapped around his neck even then.

A letter was tucked at the bottom, and Tommy unfolded it carefully, his fingers trembling—not from the cold, but from something he couldn’t quite name. The paper smelled faintly of lavender, a scent that carried him miles away from the trench, back to Small Heath.

Dear Tommy, I hope this finds you, though I know how uncertain everything must be. I can’t imagine what you’re going through out there, but I think of you every day. This scarf isn’t much, but I wanted you to have something warm. And the horseshoe—I thought maybe it would bring you luck. You always did like to gamble, even when we were children.

I found the photo in an old box and thought you might need a reminder of home. Of us. I don’t know if it helps, but I want you to know that no matter where you are or what happens, I will always be you. You’re still Tommy to me—the one who carved me wooden horses and swore we’d outrun Small Heath someday.

Please come back safe, and have a happy Christmas. With all my heart.

Tommy’s throat tightened as he read, her words breaking through the walls he’d built around himself. For the first time in weeks, his hands stopped shaking. He folded the letter carefully and slipped it into the breast pocket of his jacket, close to his heart.

Reaching for a pencil and a scrap of paper, he hesitated before writing. What could he say to her? How could he tell her about the things he’d seen, the men he’d lost, and the parts of himself he wasn’t sure he’d ever get back? But as the candle flickered, he started to write.

Your letter came today. The scarf and the charm too. I don’t know if you’ll ever understand what it means to get something like that here, but thank you. For remembering me. For caring.

It’s hard to explain what this place is like. I’d tell you not to worry about me, but you’d see through that in a second, wouldn’t you? The truth is, I don’t know who I’m going to be when I get back. If I get back. But knowing you’re waiting for me... that helps. More than you’ll ever know.

I’m holding onto your words, just like I’m holding onto the thought of you. I’ll come back to you. I promise. Yours always, Tommy

He folded the letter, sliding it into an envelope to send back with the next courier. For a moment, he let himself imagine her opening it, the way her face might light up at his words.

One of his comrades nudged him, pointing to the battered tin of cigarettes she’d sent. “You sharing, Shelby, or are those for you and the King?”

Tommy smirked, lighting the cigarette and passing it around. As they smoked in silence, the faint strains of a carol drifted from a nearby trench, carried on the cold wind.

For a fleeting moment, the war seemed far away, and Tommy allowed himself to feel the warmth of her scarf, the weight of her letter in his pocket, and the fragile hope that he might one day see her again.

Small Heath, 1919

The churchyard was still, bathed in the pale glow of moonlight reflected off the snow. The old stone walls loomed tall against the winter sky, their edges softened by frost. Tommy stood at the gate, his breath visible in the icy air as he looked toward the steps where they used to meet.

He hadn’t been back here in years, not since the world had turned upside down and dragged him into its chaos. But something about this night—Christmas Eve, the stillness, the snow—had pulled him here, as if the past had reached out to him, refusing to let go.

In his coat pocket were her letters. The edges were frayed, the paper worn soft from years of being carried close to him, though he had not read any of the ones she had sent in the final years war.

Tommy pulled one out now, turning it over in his fingers. Her handwriting, familiar and neat, stared back at him. He didn’t need to read the words to hear her voice. He could imagine what she’d written—her warmth, her hope, her belief in him even when he couldn’t find it himself.

The snow crunched under his boots as he walked toward the steps, his movements slow and deliberate. From his pocket, he pulled something else—the small wooden horse he’d carved for her all those years ago. The paint had faded, and the edges were rough from time, but it was still intact, still hers.

Tommy crouched and placed it gently on the cold stone. He stared at it for a long moment, the memories rushing back—their laughter, their promises, the way she’d looked at him with a mix of faith and fear he hadn’t understood at the time.

He didn't blame her for leaving Small Heath - she had always wanted to - he just wished she had waited for him. He would have went with her.

He stood, brushing the snow from his hands, and lit another cigarette. The smoke curled around him, a ghostly wisp against the night. As he turned to leave, he paused, looking back at the wooden horse one last time.

Then he walked away, his silhouette stark against the falling snow. The sound of his boots faded into the stillness, leaving only the quiet of the churchyard behind.

The wooden horse sat alone on the steps, cold, waiting.

Arrow House, Warwickshire, 1920s

The Shelby family home was loud with laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses. The fire roared in the hearth, casting long shadows on the walls as the family celebrated another hard-earned Christmas. Tommy, however, was outside, leaning against the side of the house with a cigarette in hand. The chill of the winter air bit at his skin, but it was a welcome reprieve from the noise inside.

He wasn’t surprised when he heard footsteps approaching, the crunch of snow under boots. What surprised him was who they belonged to.

“You’re still sneaking off for quiet moments,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the cold like a warm memory.

Tommy turned, his breath catching briefly in his chest. She was standing there, bundled in a thick coat, her cheeks flushed from the cold. Time had changed her—softened some things, hardened others—but her eyes were the same, sharp and full of meaning.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said, his voice low, guarded.

“I wasn’t sure I would.” She hesitated, looking down at her gloved hands before stepping closer. “But it’s Christmas.”

Tommy dropped the cigarette, crushing it under his boot. “And Christmas has a way of dragging up the past, doesn’t it?”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s not just the past I came for.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the snow falling softly around them. Tommy finally gestured toward the small bench tucked against the side of the house. They sat, the distance between them feeling both vast and impossibly small.

“I visited the church,” he said, his voice breaking the quiet. “Every Christmas Eve since you left.”

Her head snapped toward him, surprise flickering in her expression. “You did?”

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the snowy ground. “Always hoped you’d come back. I even left something for you there. Thought maybe it’d remind you of what we had... or what we could have had.”

She exhaled a shaky breath, pinching her eyes shut. "I'm sorry I left, Tommy. I wanted to wait until you got back, I really did, but..." she hung her head, a mixture of shame and regret on her face. "So many men came back from the war before you, and none of them were the samw as when they left, I was scared that you wouldn't be the same when you got back."

They sat in silence for a moment, the sounds of laughter and music from inside muffled.

She let out a deep breath, lifting her head to look at him as she spoke.

“I tried to find something better, somewhere else. A life that didn’t feel so heavy. But it always felt like something was missing.”

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and after a long pause, he asked quietly, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Her answer came after a heartbeat, her voice soft but certain. “No. Because it was always here.”

Tommy’s breath hitched, and for the first time in years, the weight of his choices pressed down on him in a way he couldn’t ignore. He reached out, his hand brushing against hers, tentative and unsure.

“I’m not that boy anymore,” he said, his voice laced with regret.

“I know,” she replied, her hand turning to lace her fingers with his. “But he’s still in there. I see him.”

For a moment, everything else faded—the noise from inside, the cold night air, the years they’d spent apart. It was just the two of them, trying to reconnect after everything that had come between them.

And in that quiet moment, Tommy let himself believe, even if just for a second, that they could find their way back to each other.

[seattlesellie]

hii, can I request something based on this

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSL1YNSCU/?t=1

the reader is just mindlessly scrolling on her phone, and ellie is just a being little shit and annoying the reader cause she needs some ATTENTION ASAP !!!

it starts out as ellie peppers the reader with kisses innocently, and they accidentally (not rlly an accidentally 😭) ended up in bed cuddling while naked 🙈

anon this tiktok couple drives me insane im so jealous theyre so cute i literally think about blocking them sometimes. the highway looking like a real good sleeping space rn!

warning: nsfw+fluff. THIS CAME OUT. NOT THE WAY IT WAS SUPPOSED TO. THERES NO CUDDLING BECAUSE I LOST MY MIND WRITING THIS AND ELLIE IS KIND OF MEAN AT THE END :( IM SO SORRY NONNIE 🤍

this ones gotta be an actual hammer. theres no way in hell they could make a cake this accura-

fuck. how is everything fucking cake? if these yellow crocs arent actual wearable shoes, you were going to sue tiktok user 0087fakeorcake.

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ugh, a slime video. your favorite. this one’s crunchy, too. and the color? a deep hypnotizing purple. it looked like a galaxy, far far away. you just went cross eyed.

“babe” ellies voice echoed through your shared apartment. a new one at that. the smell of fresh paint, new wooden furniture, and a pinch of familiarity. ellies punctured sock was laying on the floor like a modern piece of artwork at a funky museum, but were gonna ignore that for a second.

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ooh! a kitten looking dapper with a bow tie! double tap.

“babe” she said, slightly raising the tone of her voice.

not now, ellie! you were just about to watch a target haul.

a small huff escaped her lips. how was she now jealous of an actual piece of metal squeezed between your hands. if you didnt look so cute concentrated, eyebrows furrowed while trying to read a conspiracy theory about the moon landing, she would have probably snatched your phone off of your hands by now.

she got slightly closer, and positioned herself between your legs. you didnt even acknowledge your sweet girl, too bothered reading stupid tiktok comments on a prank video.

“HAH!” you giggled, slightly sliding off the cream colored couch.

“you have to see this one, el” you exclaimed, voice filled with anticipation.

ellie hummed in response, and sat on the couch near you, manspreading as usual, slightly pushing you to the opposite direction with the spread of her knees. ellie didnt even want to see. she needed your attention now, or else shed die. quite literally die. a fish out of water.

she sighed dramatically, side eyeing you. if ellies facial expression had a name, it would be “notice me! notice me!!! im your dramatic girlfriend and you havent given me a kiss on the cheek for over 2 hours and i feel sick!!!”

“i dont wanna see” she said dryly, voice slightly raspy from the spliff she had smoked 10 minutes near the open window - “creep” by radiohead playing in her headphones. sometimes, ellie couldn't help but despise how deeply music affected her. she would get lost in the lyrics, immersing herself in the melancholic tones of the guitar. in moments like these, she felt as if she were the protagonist in a radiohead music video— broody, hunched, and consumed by a cloud of introspection.

you shoved the phone in her face, your eyes glued to the screen.

the title of the video flickered on the screen. “this is how dinosaurs sounded like… 🦕 part 1 💯”

the room was suddenly filled with the jarring sounds of screeching and growls. despite the cacophony, you smiled dumbly, looking forward to her reaction. i mean, its fucking dinosaurs.

“nice” ellie remarked in her trademark dry tone, laced with a hint of sarcasm.

that was so fucking cool, she thought. “can you show me the second part?” “actually, triceratops probably didnt roar like that… theyd make more cooing like sounds, y’know?” is what ellie would have said, if she weren’t so lost in her dramatic performance of her tony award winning play - “my gf is ignoring me therefore i must die immediately.”

“youre annoying” you said, ts’king and reverting your gaze back to the screen. you pressed save on the video. you knew her so well.

“m’not” she said, sighing dramatically. “you are.”

“fine” you mumbled under your breath. then, your attention quickly shifted. ooh! baby goats! you smiled brightly at the screen.

ellie stared at you. when she saw your stupid smile, she couldnt help but soften her gaze. why did you have to be so fucking cute, all hypnotized and shit. “youre so annoying” she whispered, and planted a small kiss on your cheek.

you couldn't help but giggle at the ticklish sensation of her plump lips against your skin. you were kind of over the doom scrolling now, but fuck- if seeing your girlfriend try to win your attention didn't seem tempting. you pressed "like".

she kissed your cheek again, small huffs of breath leaving her mouth as her lips met your skin. “annoying” she hummed playfully, and planted more delicate kisses all over your cheeks. her hand intertwined with yours, and she kissed it as well.

“mmhm” kiss. it tickled. “so” kiss. that one was wet. “annoying” kiss. her tongue was peaking out of her mouth. “and” kiss. her hand was on your thigh. “lame” kiss. that one was on your neck.

you attempted to stifle your smile, fighting the urge to toss the phone aside in a moment of playful frustration. however, your efforts were in vain as a giggle escaped your lips, unable to contain yourself.

“got your attention now?” she said smugly, continuously planting small kisses on your neck. although your eyes were still glues to the screen, ellie knew she won. so, so predictable.

“no.. theres- this… video now” you said, stuttering slightly. what video? god knows.

“yeah…” she murmured, her voice husky and brimming with satisfaction. “m’sure youre watching” she kissed your ear, making you let out a small whimper. “has to be a good one, got you all giddy like that” so smug.

suddenly, she ended the cascade of kisses, and pulled away. you pouted. “should i turn the AC on? you look kinda hot” yeah, she knew you were flustered now. funny, she thought. after all this time together, you still couldn’t help but flush whenever she got near.

“m’fine” you murmured. you were not.

“no i think…” she straddled you, her voice now a seductive whisper in your ear. “you feel really hot” she murmured, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “sure you dont have a fever?” she teased. “poor thing”

“no…” you giggled nervously, still scrolling, ignoring every single video on your feed. you were literally just moving your finger now, for no purpose at all. ellie chuckled.

“think we need to get this off of you” she suggested, her hand gradually inching up under your shirt, lightly tracing circles on your stomach.

“dont want you to get a heat stroke” she teased. her skillful hand gradually removing the fabric from your warm body. it tangled with your phone. ellie couldnt help but let out a small laugh.

she couldve taken the phone off your hand and you wouldnt have resisted. but this… was so, so much more fun.

her hungry eyes roamed over the sight of your exposed bra, appreciating the beauty before her. with a gentle touch, she cupped your breasts, a soft grunt escaping her lips. "oof, babe... tits feel kinda hot too," she whispered into your ear, her warm breath sending tingles down your spine.

you couldn't help but giggle in between short, desperate breaths. “yeah?" you teased, still scrolling through another video on your phone, purposely avoiding eye contact with the girl straddling you.

"mhmm," she hummed approvingly, unclasping your bra. as the cold air brushed against your skin, causing goosebumps to rise, she couldn't help but feel a wave of hunger wash over her. the sight before her made her mouth nearly water, and yet, you remained engrossed in that damn phone.

ellie was pissed. she let out a small, frustrated whimper. she wasnt going to touch you until you threw that phone across the room. ball was in your court.

she crawled off of you. she planned on giving you a damn show. “m’kinda hot now too…” she murmured, feigning discomfort. “fuck- this apartment is like, scorching hot.” it was mid-december. the new apartment was… morgue-like cold sometimes.

she threw her shirt off to the back of the room.

your phone was invisible to you now. her toned stomach, muscled arms came into full view, leaving you breathless. fuck, she really was a fucking sight.

her eyes flickered over to you, a self-assured, cocky glint dancing within them. she let out a huff, her lips curling into a triumphant smile. she had you right where she wanted you.

“didnt you have a video you needed to watch…?” she teased. “looked super important” she continued, smirking. you didnt respond, almost hypnotized by the sight in front of you. ugh, ellie.

“dont look at me, look at the screen” she playfully teased once more. her voice carried a hint of seductive taunting. as if to further entice you, she flexed her muscles, the tantalizing display meant to captivate your gaze. she was a master of the tease, and she knew exactly how to make your attention sway in her direction.

she crawled back to you. “go look at your dumb vlogs” she whispered into your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine. your eyes rolled back in response to her words. "keep going," she commanded with a smirk, claiming your compliance. as a final tease, she planted a tantalizing kiss on your neck, sucking the skin. she made sure you felt her wet tongue, felt what you were missing. your breaths were becoming raggedy now.

ellie continued her crawl, moving further down your body. “just like that” she murmured when you bucked your hips forward. her needy, needy girl. her fingers skillfully unbuttoned your jeans, swiftly removing them along with your panties in one smooth motion. the cool air caressed your bare skin, causing you to flinch.

a small whimper escaped your lips.

“what…?” she cooed, planting soft, wet kisses on your exposed thighs, looking at you with a hungry gaze.

did you really think she was going to give it to you, after youve ignored her for so fucking long? ellie rolled her eyes, and broke the string of kisses. you stared at her, and fuck, she couldnt have looked more cocky.

she got on her knees, not breaking eye contact. she looked so fucking mean.

“no” she exclaimed, as if she could read your mind. she knew exactly what you wanted.

she took off her boxers in one swift motion and threw them.

at your face.

“get that fucking phone to fuck you.”

[fayes-fics]

Rescue and Ruin

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Anthony rescues something for you... and it will likely lead to your ruin.

Warnings: None really. Flirting, sexual tension, banter, and the promise of more. A lot of teasing, soaking wet Viscount.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: Unbetaed. Very belated request fill for @daisfordaysstuff (request:  I’m rewatching season 2 again, and I think I need one on this scene [lake Anthony]). I just had to post an Anthony story today to commemorate the birthday of Jonathan Bailey, the man who plays this titan of a fictional character. This is actually my oldest request fill, lingering in my inbox since Sept 2022. Sorry, my lovely; I hope late is better than never. I just got an idea of how I wanted this to play out. I hope you enjoy <3

“I’ll get it!”

A chivalrous call comes as you watch in dismay as your favourite bonnet take off in a gust of wind and flies over the lake, landing almost gracefully about twenty feet out into the gently rippling water.

You had just stolen down to the water's edge to get away from the crowds for a few moments of solitude, drawn to the beauty of the water as the sun danced on the little peaks caused by the gusty breeze. It had looked like a shimmering mirage from the terrace.

You are shocked when the one and only Viscount Anthony Bridgerton gives you a brief, polite nod as he passes you, then dives off a little jetty, still fully clothed, making you gasp loudly.

What on earth?!?

This is his garden party. Well, strictly his mother's, but he is Viscount, and this is the Bridgerton family country estate, Aubrey Hall. You are still awestruck to be here, a guest of your maternal aunt you are staying with here in Kent. Why on earth he would dive into his lake to rescue something as trivial as a hat seems mystifying. You are certain he has staff that could assist rather than take it upon himself and quite clearly ruin his outfit.

He re-emerges to the surface from his dive and swims with awe-inspiring speed towards your hat as it skates across the surface, propelling along not unlike some toy boat. When he finally reaches it, he holds it aloft triumphant and twists to swim back one-handed as he keeps it above the water.

You find yourself drawn down to the jetty he jumped off of. To give your thanks, express your surprise, and take back your hat and hope it is salvageable. You twist around to check, but all the other party guests seem oblivious to the incident or his actions, the string quartet playing so loudly closer to the house and the buffet table so laden everyone's eyes and ears are preoccupied.

“Thank you, my lord,” you demure as he pulls up to the jetty and places your bonnet on the wooden slats by your feet. “That was completely unnecessary, but I am, of course, so very grateful,” you curtsy and pick up the bonnet.

Luckily, thanks to his swift actions, it will be fine. Just the brim and lower edge touched the water. You wring out the soaked ribbons as best you can, then wrap them around your neck and tie them in a secure bow. It may be too wet to wear on your head for now, but at least it should dry while tied securely and draped down over your back. You curtsy again as you feel him watching you, unsure what else to do to convey your gratitude.

He laughs, and you see him fighting with the buttons on his jacket, still standing in the lake, the water around waist height. “There is no need to curtsy or to be so formal Miss…?” he squints up at you expectantly.

“Oh, it's Miss y/l/n,” you rush out and, for some reason, curtsy again.

“I mean it; please stop curtsying, especially to a man in such a state as me,” he says drolly, fighting off his jacket and tossing it, sodden and heavy, onto the jetty.

You are blatantly staring as he peels away his waistcoat and fights with his cravat. His thin cotton white shirt has turned entirely transparent in the water; it is barely there. Under it, you can see so much skin, toned and rippling muscle as his jerking movements strip off his clothing. Over his chest is a patch of dark hair clinging to the material you cannot look away from. You have never even so much as seen how a man looks without a shirt on before, and this sight makes your heart pound and your body tingle.

Glancing up from his actions, the corner of his mouth quirks up, and you know he has caught you—openly ogling him. Your cheeks are aflame, and you cut your eyes away.

“You may look, Miss y/l/n,” his pitch has dropped to something low and velvety, and it buzzes right into your core. Hesitantly your eyes dart back to his handsome face; the lip quirk spreads into a devastating, stunning smile. “It is alright; no one has marked us,” he assures, his gaze cutting to your right towards the house, then back to your face. “You shall not have broken any rules of propriety by talking with me. Or staring at me as you are,” he teases, an eyebrow arching appealingly.

“My lord, that is not what….” You begin to protest, knowing it's a lie even as you voice it; your reflex to appear chaste is so crucial to your need to find a match that your aunt and parents are so desperate for you to make.

But your words die out as he places both hands firmly on the dock and propels himself up and out of the water in one swift, athletic move. Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth as he unfurls upwards from the kneeling position, drawing up to his full height. Water sluices down his body and makes his clothing cling to every single contour of his toned, defined torso. He looms closer; you tilt backwards, entranced by the tracks of droplets over the lines of his handsome face, his burned umber eyes catching the sunlight and boring into you as he crowds closer.

“Do not lie to yourself or to me, Miss y/l/n,” he rumbles, “we both know you were and, indeed, continue to stare”.

His words make your body riot; your stays feel too tight for your lungs to breathe, your skin pricking hot. He’s so close now you can smell the vaguely mossy lake smell on his skin, on what little clothing he has left on; it’s dancing there on the breeze alongside something spicier and amber that you can only assume is his cologne. You want to stutter an apology, to offer your thanks again, to ask him to leave, to ask him to stay, to ask him to touch you—so many jumbled, contradictory thoughts.

“The more pertinent question is, do you like what you see?” he murmurs and leans in, his words ghosting warm on the shell of your ear.

This is the sort of thing your aunt has warned you about. Rakes. Handsome, wealthy, titled men who will tease and take what they can from young, innocent ladies such as yourself. You want to be affronted, tell him to desist, and give him a scathing remark about appropriate behaviour. But once again, you don't. Your body drawn to him, you want to trace your fingers over the swell of his chest muscles, to feel those strong arms grab your waist and haul you against his sodden form.

“No answer is, in some ways, an answer,” he chuckles with a lilt that is both arrogant and devastatingly attractive.

“My lord, we may be seen at any moment…” Your protest is weak and breathy, not moving away as he continues to stand far too close to you, as lake water drips onto your shoes.

Suddenly a clammy hand wraps around your elbow, and you are being pulled towards the nearby cluster of thick trees and bushes that abut the lake. You almost stumble and smack into him face-first as he pulls up short and releases your arm. The air feels cooler here, with dappled shade, verdant and alive with the scent of flowering bushes and leaves. The view of the house and, indeed, the party guests is wholly obscured. No one would ever know you are here.

“Do you have an answer now that we cannot be seen?” he breathes inches from you, towering over you.

“My lord… I,” you cannot find words, hanging your head. You know this is wrong. Very wrong. Your aunt would kill you for being this wanton, for allowing him to do this to you. And yet…. Every fibre of your being wants this. To see what he will do. To see what you will let him do. You suspect it's more than you even understand.

“Say it after me….” he intones, a finger tilting your chin up to look into his fiery gaze.

“I…” he begins.

“I…” you parrot.

“Like…”

“Like,” you repeat, and the grin on his face grows wider.

“What….”

“What,” your breath quickening with each word.

“I…”

“I,” that finger still lingers under your chin, caressing gently.

“See.”

“See,” you exhale shakily.

“There. Now was that so hard…hmmm?” he teases, that finger now joined by his thumb stroking over the point of your chin, the lake water running down his forearm to the point of material bunched under his elbow that now drips down the front of your dress. The dampness seeps through the material and into your heated skin.

The cord of tension in the air is palpable. You don't know what to say or what to do.

“I have another question for you,” he buzzes, and the fingers on your chin slip lower, over your throat, lighting a line of fire as they trail over your delicate skin. Your pulse pounding in your veins. You swallow hard and feel the calloused fingertips trace into your suprasternal notch. “Maybe this one you can answer,” he huffs a sarcastic laugh as your body spirals and you fight to keep your breath even.

“What is it, my lord?” your voice barely a whisper.

“Would you be willing to help me, your gracious host today, get dry?” he practically purrs.

“How…. how on earth could I do that?” you stumble.

He smiles predatory and so handsome you give up and let your chest heave, ragged breathing.

“Under your dress, you wear a chemise, do you not?” he continues, those fingers tracing over the wet bow of your bonnet strings tied over your clavicle.

“Yes, my lord,” you answer shakily.

“Well did you know such items can be an excellent towel in a pinch,” he shrugs one shoulder and lifts an eyebrow as his fingers slip lower over your breastbone until they reach the neckline of your dress, at the swell of your breast.

There is no point in pretending he is not utterly destroying you now. You can’t school anything—the blush darkening over your skin, creeping up from your chest, the tingle in your lips, the hot flush you feel all over. A viscous pulse in your underwear that feels entirely alien and where your decision-making seems to be centred at right this very moment.

“So I suppose my last question, for now, is, are you willing to give it to me?” you gasp at his turn of phrase as those fingers swirl patterns over the neckline of your dress. “Your chemise, of course,” he amends with a wink.

Utter, utter rake.

“H-how can I give you my chemise without removing my dress too?” you wonder aloud.

“Well, that is the challenge, isn't it?” he smirks. “Now I can see two options here. I can do the gentlemanly thing, turn my back and allow you to undress and then you may hand me your chemise once decent again. I will dry myself the best I can and return to the house to change.”

“And the second option?” you cannot resist querying.

“Ahh, that,” he seems to pull even closer, and the fingers slip over the neckline and onto the silk ruching that covers your breasts; even through the material layers, you can feel his fingers lingering over your nipple and the throbbing between your legs turns almost painful. “The second option is that I am not a gentleman. Not in the slightest,” his answer cryptic but dripping with a dark, forbidden promise.

“What does that involve…?” you pant.

You watch, enthralled, as his tongue pokes out of his mouth and licks his bottom lip, and in seeming slow-motion, his mouth begins to form a shape to speak words…

“ANTHONY!!”

The yell is from a few feet away, on the other side of the bushes. Both of you jump apart as if burned.

“ANTHONY?!” the male voice calls again, “ARE YOU AROUND?”

It's obvious the person has no idea you are merely a few feet away, only that they are looking for him.

Stay here, Anthony mouths silently, and you nod, your heart beating wildly at the whiplash of experiences.

With one rueful glance at you, at the interrupted moment, he turns around and fights through the mass of foliage back out to the lawn.

“Oh, there you are!” the voice exclaims. “We wondered what the devil had happened to you!!”

“Colin…” you hear him respond.

“Hell and the devil. Why are you soaked through?? Did you decide to go for a swim fully clothed? Did you find my special tea??” his voice ramping up in incredulity as he likely clocks Anthony's bedraggled appearance.

“I have no idea what you are referring to,” Anthony’s reply seems clipped. “I rescued a small beautiful creature, if you must know,” he obfuscates.

“Ahh, hero antics,” Colin laughs. “Well, you had better go change right away. Mother expects you to make a toast for our esteemed guests in a few minutes.”

You hear Anthony’s frustrated noise of derision and have to stifle your giggle behind the back of your hand between deep breaths, trying to bring yourself back to a state of normality after the rollercoaster of experiences you just had.

“Urghhh, alright,” Anthony sighs, embattled, “I think I dropped my pocket watch back in the bushes. Give me one moment to find it, and I will accompany you back to the house.”

“Side entrance,” Colin responds dryly.

“Indeed,” you hear Anthony call.

You tense as the bushes before you start to rustle as he fights through them to reach you. He stalks up to you, and you gasp audibly.

“Shhh,” he warns quietly, his lips right at your ear, gusting hot, “it looks as if I must sadly depart. Your chemise is safe for today, Miss y/l/n.”

With a boldness you didn’t know yourself capable of, you grab the shirt's sleeves rolled up around his elbows.

“I would never want not to be helpful to you, my lord,” you whisper tremulant, fingers twisting in the soaked fabric. “If removing my chemise can ever be of assistance to you in future, please be sure to let me know.”

You cannot believe you allow yourself to say something so scandalous.

He pulls back slightly, and it's his turn to exhale unsteadily, his pupils dilated; his expression wild. You can see a vein hammering in his throat.

“Oh goddd,” he moans, closing his eyes as if pained.

“What?” concern suddenly flooding your tone.

His eyes reopen, and they pin you with their intensity.

“Mark my words,” his tone is low, gravelly, “if you continue to talk so brazenly, it will only encourage me.”

It is the sexiest warning bell you have ever heard.

“And if you continue to tease and defy me, I will pursue you. Relentlessly,” he growls, and once again, your body is rioting.

“Good god. How long does it take to find a pocket watch, man?” Colin calls impatiently, once again breaking the moment between you as it threatens to bubble over.

“I've found it!” Anthony twists to call over his shoulder. “I’ll be there presently!”

“Hurry up!” Colin grouses.

Anthony turns back, and his breath is hot over your cheek. He seems to stare at your lips for an inordinate amount of time as you stare back. Transfixed.

“Today, I shall be a gentleman,” he states reluctantly and draws away slightly. “However…” and your heart spikes in victory, “once that clock strikes midnight. I make no promises. And I shall be standing right here,” his tone decisive, his finger pointing to the spot right by his feet. “Just so you and your chemise will know where to find me,” he rumbles, then gives you a polite bow and is gone.

You have to grab onto a tree to stop yourself from swooning. Already knowing you will be stealing away from your room as the clock strikes midnight. Uncaring of consequences.

You want him to ruin you.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz

[moomuzan]

— 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞 𝖔𝖋 𝖚𝖘

they leave you waiting at the alter ? chuuya , akutagawa , dazai , angst , requested

Within a grove of birch trees, the clearing nestled deep, the soft hush of leaves moving in the wind was a solemn hymn to the life you thought you’d begin today. The late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns of gold and shadow onto the small wooden altar. It was simple, intimate—just you, the pastor, and the man who was supposed to meet you here.

But Dazai wasn’t coming.

Standing there, your breath came short as you glanced back toward the narrow path that led to the grove. It was empty. Too heavy on your shoulders, the lace of the dress clinged to your skin like a suffocating second layer. The bouquet trembled in your hands, but you didn’t feel its weight. All you could feel was the growing void in your chest, a silence louder than any words could ever be.

The marriage officiant, a kind man with an understanding gaze, shifted awkwardly, his hands folded before him. “Perhaps he’s just delayed,” he murmured, though his words lacked conviction. You nodded, a small, tight movement, as if any larger one might shatter the fragile mask of hope you were barely holding together.

But Dazai wasn’t delayed. He had never intended to come.

Far from the grove, he sat in a darkened room, his head bowed over his hands. His suit jacket lay discarded across the back of a chair, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He hadn’t even made it out the door.

As he thought of you, standing there alone in that quiet, sacred space, waiting for him with that soft, unwavering faith in your eyes—the faith that had always undone him, his heart felt like bursting. You had always seen him as something more than he was. A man, instead of a ghost. A lover, instead of a weapon.

And that was why he couldn’t come.

How could he stand before you, in the quiet holiness of that grove, and make promises he knew he could never keep? How could he say the words that would bind your life to his, knowing that everything he touched withered in his hands?

God, he blamed himself for ever asking you. For letting the idea of happiness bloom, even for a moment. It was cruel of him, selfish, to let you believe he could be anything more than the man he was. You were light, and he was a black hole, endlessly consuming, endlessly hollow. He would have pulled you in, dragged you down, stripped away every piece of you until there was nothing left but regret.

And so he stayed. He stayed in that room with its suffocating walls and stagnant air, drinking whiskey he couldn’t taste and staring at his own reflection in the darkened window. The man who stared back at him was a coward, but at least he wasn’t a liar. For once.

Hours passed as the sun set over the grove, casting long, eerie shadows through the trees. When the officiant eventually left, offering you a look of deep pity and a quiet reassurance that he would wait until you were ready to go, you nodded absently, but your feet remained rooted to the spot, your eyes fixed on the path as though sheer willpower could make him appear.

It didn’t.

When the cold crept in, and the shadows swallowed the last of the light, you finally turned away, your steps heavy, the rustle of your dress against the ground a mournful echo of what should have been.

Somewhere far away, Dazai let his head fall into his hands, his shoulders shaking as the weight of his choice crushed him. You deserved better, he told himself over and over. Someone who would stand at that altar without hesitation. Someone who wouldn’t falter under the weight of love.

Yet, no matter how many times he repeated it, no matter how deeply he tried to convince himself, the truth hung in the air like a noose around his neck: he loved you. He loved you more than anything.

And he had broken you anyway.

,

Akutagawa had never believed in love. Not really. It was a word, a weakness wrapped in sentimentality, something people clung to when they had nothing else. And yet, against all odds, against his better judgment, he had loved you. It wasn’t a grand, sweeping love, but something raw, unspoken—a quiet tether that grounded him in a way nothing else ever had.

But love, he knew, was dangerous. Love was the crack in the armor, the flaw that could be exploited. Love could kill a man faster than any blade, and in his line of work, weakness was not an option.

So, as he stood outside the quiet hall where your wedding was supposed to take place, the weight of his decision pressing down on him, Akutagawa felt the sharp, cold edge of resolve slicing through his chest. He would not go in.

As he walked to the venue, his usual coat replaced with a dark, tailored suit, the world had been silent around him. The streets felt foreign, as if they were holding their breath, knowing what he was about to do. Even now, standing in the shadow of the doorway, he could feel the pull of you inside—your hope, your belief in him, the warmth you so freely offered despite all the walls he had built to keep you out.

For a brief second, he almost let himself indulge in the thought of it. The vows, the quiet promise of forever. The possibility of something different, something better. Swiftly, he had allowed himself to imagine it once, in the fleeting moments of silence between missions, when you would sit beside him and rest your head on his shoulder. A life where he could hold onto you, where he didn’t have to fight tooth and nail for every shred of safety and peace.

Though, that was a lie.

No matter how strong you tried to be, you weren’t like him. You didn’t belong in the shadows, in the violence and you certainly deserved a life free of blood and death and enemies lurking around every corner. And Akutagawa, for all his love, could never give you that.

It wasn’t doubt that made him hesitate; it was the overwhelming certainty that this—you—were the greatest weakness he had ever known. And for that, he couldn’t forgive himself.

Turning away from the door, Akutagawa’s steps were deliberate, the weight of his decision heavy but unwavering. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to marry you. He wanted nothing more. Ironically, this was his way of protecting you, of ending the part of himself that dared to hope, to love.

As the streets stretched out before him, gray and empty, he walked further and further from the venue. The invitation you had sent, carefully placed in his coat pocket, felt like a brand against his chest. Even as his mind conjured the image of you waiting, your dress immaculate, your eyes searching for him with the kind of trust that had always cut him to the bone, he didn’t look back,

Thinking of the promises he would never make, the life he would never share with you, he told himself it was better this way, though the words rang hollow in his mind. You would hate him, yes, but you would live. And that was all that mattered.

By the time you realized he wasn’t coming, he hoped you would be angry, furious even. He hoped you would hate him enough to let him go, to move on, to forget the man who had left you standing there with nothing but silence and shadows.

The black haired didn’t deserve you. He never had.

As he disappeared into the fog of Yokohama, Akutagawa let himself feel it—just once. The ache of leaving you behind, the unbearable weight of the love he had tried so hard to deny. He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms as if pain could ground him, remind him why this was necessary.

This was his final act of love, twisted and cruel as it was. To walk away, to sever the bond that had made him weak, to save you from himself and the life that followed him like a curse.

Back at the venue, the clock struck the hour, the silence deafening as the officiant shifted awkwardly. The room was empty except for you, standing alone, your bouquet trembling in your hands. —And somewhere, miles away, Akutagawa kept walking, his heart a hollow shell of what it once was. This was the end. Not just of you and him, but of the part of himself that had dared to dream of something more.

He had loved you, yes. But love was weakness. And he couldn’t afford to be weak.

,

Being a a reflection of Chuuya himself the venue was loud, vibrant, and brimming with intensity. Fairy lights hung in tangled swirls across the ceiling, their soft glow flickering like fireflies against the polished walls. Bottles of the finest champagne chilled in ornate buckets, waiting to be uncorked in celebration. Tables overflowed with flowers, their deep red petals scattered like drops of blood across the white tablecloths. It was the kind of wedding Chuuya had always imagined—a celebration that burned bright, bold, and unforgettable.

And yet, the groom was nowhere to be found.

You waited in the dressing room, smoothing down the delicate folds of your gown with trembling hands, trying to steady your heartbeat as the minutes bled into hours. Guests whispered amongst themselves beyond the door, their voices a distant hum. But Chuuya—your Chuuya—had yet to come.

However, In a dimly lit corner of a bar, far, far from the celebration, Chuuya was drowning.

Having left the penthouse early, he was dressed sharp in his tailored suit, his fiery hair tied back with care. For weeks, he had been excited, eager, ready to make you his in every possible way. With fervor he had thrown himself into the plans—choosing the venue, the wine, the music. It had all been for you, to give you the world, to make you feel adored and cherished.

But now, sitting alone in a booth surrounded by the sharp sting of alcohol and the suffocating haze of his own doubt, he realized the truth he had been too afraid to face: he couldn’t go through with it. Not like this. Not in this life.

Chuuya wasn’t a man who second-guessed himself often. He was decisive, confident, a force of nature. But the thought of standing at that altar, of binding you to him with words he wasn’t sure he deserved to say, paralyzed him.

What kind of life could he give you? A life filled with shadows, with danger, with the blood he spilled just to survive? You deserved something clean, something bright—a life untouched by the darkness that followed him like a curse.

The red head slammed back another shot of whiskey, the burn in his throat a poor distraction from the guilt that gnawed at his insides. He thought the alcohol might dull the ache, might make it easier to forget the look in your eyes as you stood waiting for him. But it didn’t.

Instead, it sharpened everything. He could see you so clearly in his mind, your face lit with the hope he had spent months building. He thought about your laugh, the way it made him feel human in a world that so often turned him into a weapon. You were everything good, everything he had never thought he could have.

Which was exactly the problem.

Draining another glass, the liquid sloshed over the rim as his hands started shaking. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should stop, knew he was teetering on the edge of losing himself entirely. But he didn’t care. He welcomed the numbness, the oblivion, anything to drown out the voice in his head screaming at him to get up, to go to you, to stop running from the one thing that made him feel alive.

Though, he didn’t move.

Back at the venue, the silence was deafening. The band had stopped playing, the champagne left untouched, the guests slowly filtering out one by one. Sitting alone at the head table, the flowers wilted under the weight of the night’s abandonment. Suffocating, you stared at the empty seat beside you.

By the time the last guest left, and the lights dimmed to a muted glow, you finally let the tears fall. The weight of it all—the love, the loss, the unanswered questions—pressed down on you like a tidal wave.

And somewhere, Chuuya sat slumped in the corner of that bar, his head in his hands, the world spinning around him as the reality of what he had done set in. He had broken the only good thing in his life, and he didn’t even have the courage to face it.

“Idiot,” he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse. “You’re such a goddamn idiot.”

But the words meant nothing. They couldn’t bring him to you. They couldn’t undo the wreckage he had caused. And as the hours bled into dawn, and the whiskey ran dry, Chuuya realized he had made the biggest mistake of his life.

But by then, it was too late.

…. i couldn’t stop listening to this when i wrote this (i hide my love for taylor like a drug addiction.)

[tedwardremus]

It was a bright spring morning when the topic of eloping came up. It seemed like the perfect solution—small, private, no way for the press to get any leaked information.

But then Ginny brought up a very good point while taking a sip of tea. “Well, we can’t get married without Mum. She’d absolutely die and then murder us.”

“Okay, so your parents and Ron and Hermione,” Harry conceded, pouring himself a cup of coffee and sitting down next to Ginny at the small wooden table.

“Well, if Ron is there, we need to invite all the brothers, or else it will be a whole thing. And they’ll all bring their families, of course. Hold on, let’s make a list so we don’t forget anyone.” Ginny summoned a quill and a piece of parchment and started writing down the various names of the Weasley family.

Harry leaned over and watched as she added the names of their nieces and nephews to the list. “If kids are invited, then I’d like Teddy and Andromeda to be there.”

“Obviously, Teddy can be the ring bearer, and Vic will be the flower girl.”

“You still do that in an elopement?”

Ginny shrugged. “I don’t know, but they’d be cute. We should also invite Luna and Neville.”

“Sounds good,” Harry said, taking another sip of his coffee.

“And Neville will bring Hannah,” Ginny said, adding the names to the growing list. “We should probably invite Dean and Seamus so they don’t feel left out.”

Harry nodded along, “Kingsley and some of the other Order members. Hagrid, of course.” 

“Oh, Hagrid! Definitely.” Ginny nodded. “Do you think he will bring Buckbeak if we ask?”

“A hippogriff in a bow tie?” Ginny and Harry laughed at the image, which cemented their agreement to extend an invitation to Buckbeak.

“And Viktor Krum and my Quidditch team, obviously,” Ginny said through bites of toast.

“I’d like McGonagall there,” But then Harry hesitated. “Or is that weird?”

“I don’t think so,” Ginny said while shaking her head. “I think she’d appreciate the invite. What about your relatives? Should we at least send them an invite?”

“Don’t be stupid, Gin,” Harry said, leaning back in his chair as he took another sip of coffee and gave Ginny a wink. “We’re eloping, not having a real wedding, after all.”