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dellalyra · 9 months

Note

happy (late) birthday to gojo! i wonder how the family spent his birthday but also i wonder how the crew used to celebrate each other’s birthdays when they were younger!

𝟏𝟕/𝟑𝟔

𝑃𝑖𝑥𝑖𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑦𝑠：𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒，𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ.

𝐶𝑊：𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓，𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑏𝑐 𝑜𝑏𝑣𝑠 𝑖𝑡’𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑛’𝑠 𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑑𝑎𝑦 ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠， 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔，𝑓𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑙𝑚𝑘 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔♡︎

“Shoko wait - that’s salt! Don’t put salt in the damn cake.”

“Why not? It would be funny.” She shrugs.

“Imagine how insufferable he would be, Sho.” Suguru intervenes.

“Did you get the balloons?” You ask Suguru.

“Yeah, they’re up in your dorm room. He comes barging into mine too much so yours was the best option.”

“I still can’t believe he’s never had a real birthday, like with sweets and soda and balloons.” You shake your head.

“Yeah, pretty fucking depressing to only have ‘formal birthday celebrations’ with stuffy old farts for your whole life.” Shoko says, sucking on a lollipop.

“Part and parcel of being the heir to a big three family, I suppose.” Suguru shrugs, watching you beat eggs into the cake mixture.

“What did you guys get him?” You ask.

“I got him this enormous basket of candy - like imported stuff too.” Shoko says - making you wonder if she’s opened it to take the lollipop she’s currently eating.

“Mine is a surprise. His parents got him an Armani coat and Tom Ford ankle boots, and then the trip to Bali for the four of us.” Suguru interjects.

“Rich people shit.” The three of you say in unison.

At 9pm that night, after a trip to the arcade with Suguru serving as a distraction to Satoru - they approached the building, where Satoru say the common room lights quickly switch off in the distance. He didn’t really understand why the silhouettes of you and Shoko were crouching behind a door, but he figured it was probably some weird girl shit.

Opening the door - shouts of ‘surprise!’ blasted through the room from you and Shoko and Suguru behind him. Big blue balloons were decorating the room with a banner saying ‘happy 17th birthday Satoru!’ hung crookedly on the wall. Gojo’s jaw dropped open at the sight before him, wrapped boxes on the table with a huge assortment of snacks and pizza boxes stacked behind them. Suguru moved from behind him and stood beside you and Shoko as you all blew party poppers toward him, showering him in colourful paper confetti. You run up, hands behind your bag and tug his shoulder for him to lean down to your height as you place a sparkly blue paper party hat on his head, securing it around his chin with a pat to the cheek - the shiny colour of your eyes and lightly glossed lips made him feel more faint than any injury could.

Not that he has a crush on you, or anything. You’re just best friends.

“Happy birthday Satoru!” You chime, giggling and clapping your hands.

“What is all this?” He asks.

“Your birthday party, dolt.” Shoko pokes at him.

“After you said you had only had formal ‘birthday events’ with your clan we thought we’d give you a proper birthday.” Suguru smirks, ruffling his best friends hair.

“We know it’s not as fancy -” You begin.

“This is so fucking cool.” He breathes - poking at the balloons with awe.

It makes sense to you all. His awe, his delighted face and joy laced in his voice. This - fun, homely, relaxed, happy - vibe, this is far more Satoru than any sit down, six course formal meal could ever be.

You can’t help but admire him as he scans through all the sweets laid out on the table, throwing caramel popcorn to Suguru to catch in his mouth. The smile on his face and the warmth in his bright blue eyes emphasise the loose drape of his long limbs, body relaxed and oh-so-happy. You think that happy Satoru is the prettiest Satoru there is. If Satoru asked for the moon wrapped in a pretty box for his birthday, then that’s probably what you’d do.

Not that you’ve a crush on him, or anything. You’re just best friends.

Shoko pushes him to sit down, and dips under the table - pulling out a huge wicker basket and heaving it toward him.

“Here. A gift.” She nods.

He wastes no time in ripping the cellophane obstructing the view of inside off and squeals like a piglet when he sees the sheer mass of sugar in there. He launches himself at Shoko, who just lazily pats him on the shoulder, warning him of cavities and how she won’t pay for any dental care as a result.

Suguru leaves the room, coming back with a cardboard carrier box.

“Oi, Satoru - here’s your gifts from me. Before you open the box, open this first.” He says, languid smirk on his face.

Suguru hands him a tiny box, about the size of a matchbox. Satoru slides it open and pulls out the contents. The puzzled look on his face doesn’t explain the mystery further. You scoot closer, peaking at the contents. Inside, lay three tiny pairs of sunglasses.

“Suguru, I love the sentiment but - I’m not sure these’ll fit me bro.” Satoru says, holding a pair to his nose.

“Open the box.” Suguru says, sitting on the armchair that Shoko has perched herself on the arm off and stretching his arms behind his head.

Satoru does as he’s told, and folds open the lid of the carrier box. The tilt of his head when he looks inside gives nothing away, apart from his complete confusion.

The box seems to rustle, and the nature of your cursed energy calls you toward small life forces inside.

Satoru turns to you, the resident animal lover, and shows you the box.

Inside, are three tiny, fluffy, snow white gerbils.

You begin to coo over them, noticing how healthy and socialised they are (growing up with your technique lead to an innate ability to bond and observe animals, which may have caused your parents pet count to rise from 1 to 17).

Satoru just looks at Suguru.

“You’ve got to be fucking with me.” He says.

“Just thought you needed some familiar faces.” Suguru snorts.

“The sunglasses? Three white rodents? Really, Suguru?! You see Shrek once and decided I’m leader of the three blind mice?!” Satoru retorts.

Shoko is in hysterical laughter as you completely zone out, petting and holding the little menaces in your arms.

“Suguru - you’re an evil genius.” You shake your head.

“Highest of compliments.” He responds.

“Wait - Geto - how the fuck do you expect Satoru to look after three gerbils? He’s - like - he’s Satoru.” Shoko nods in the gerbils direction.

“A responsibility lesson.” Suguru shrugs.

“How do I look after gerbils?! I’m not ready to be a dad! What do they eat? Is steak okay? Or maybe pizza? Do they need to swim like a turtle?! Y/N - what do I do?! You’ll help me, won’t you?!” Satoru begins listing off what he feels he needs to know to care for them.

Like you could ever deny him anything - of course you would, especially when he asks with that pretty pout.

“Course I will, Satoru. You gotta name them.” You nod.

He thinks for a moment, before smirking that smirk that spells trouble every time.

“Isamu, Hiroto and Daiki.” He declares.

“Random, but okay. Not like… fluffy, or whiskers or something that’s more eh - pet name style?” Shoko questions.

“Nah, white haired rodents? I’m calling them after the Gojo elders.” He snorts, devilish smile on his face as you all decent into laughter.

After settling the gerbils into their cage (a gift, courtesy of Yaga), you sheepishly slide a box toward Satoru, it’s small and wrapped in polar bear print paper.

“Happy Birthday, Satoru.” You smile, blushing.

He rips open the box and immediately falters. His casual smirk replaced with an awestruck gape.

“Is this…?”

“Yeah.” You nod.

Inside the box, was a delicate silver bracelet - with a circular medal in the center engraved with all four of your initials and the day you all started at Jujutsu Tech.

“Fucking hell, you really had to show us up like that Y/N?” Shoko groans, knowing your gift was by far the most sentimental.

“I hope you like it. If you don’t I kept the receipt so we can return it for -” You turn to the birthday boy.

“I love it.” He says, lifting his head to look at you.

“You’re per- It’s perfect. I - Help me put it on?” Satoru quickly fixes his slip of the tongue which you luckily didn’t notice but had Shoko and Suguru snickering.

You smile, helping him clasp it around his wrist and clapping when it’s a perfect fit.

“Yay! I’m so happy you like it!” You giggle.

“I like it a lot.” He says, not looking at the bracelet.

“Happy birthday, papa!” Came a loud voice, accompanied by excessive bouncing on the bed as the birthday boy himself woke up.

“Papa!” Came a more slurred voice with a giggle, and a small smack to his cheek with a chubby fist.

Satoru opens his eyes, seeing his 5 year old son and 2 year old daughter sitting on him on the bed, and beside them the woman who brought them into the world - shining in the morning sun, looking at him with eyes full of forever.

“We made you waffles!” Akio shouts.

“Waffle!” Mirai nods.

“You did! I am so spoiled! Did you two do them all by yourselves?!” Satoru asks, plopping Mirai on his lap which Akio has just vacated.

“No, papa. We had help!” The boy runs around to you, asking you to tie up his shoulder length white hair.

“Well, c’mon then! I’ve been promised waffles!” He ushers the two of them out of the room as they run toward the kitchen.

He turns around in the bed, seeing you smiling at him.

“Happy birthday, ‘toru.” You say, cupping his cheek and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Every day feels like my birthday with you around, princess.” He smirks, rolling on top of you and kissing you back.

“Charmer.” You giggle.

“Is it working?” He asks.

“We’ve been married for 10 years and have two children together and have raised 2 others. It worked a long time ago. Truth be told, it worked even before I gave you this.” You say, fiddling with the silver bracelet on his wrist.

The jokingly fist bumps the air, even though he’s been fully aware your heart beats solely for him - and has done his you were 16.

“C’mon, handsome. Breakfast awaits along with a little surprise.” You say, lifting yourself off the bed as he does the same, standing and stretching and revealing a back of toned, strong muscles and biceps as he shakes out his fluffy hair.

“On second thought…” you smirk, biting your lip.

“Yeah? What’s that thought?” He smiles, wrapping an arm around you waist and kneading the peachy rise of your ass in his big hands, before sliding his hands up to your waist hidden under the fluffy robe you wore.

“That there might be another surprise for you tonight, and I have planned for the kids to have a sleepover.” You smile, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand before swirling your tongue around his index finger, batting your eyelashes up at his far taller frame.

“You expect me to go through a whole day waiting for a surprise after this little display?” He groans, pouting like he did when at 18 you told him he couldn’t have his birthday cake until his actual birthday.

You just smile, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before sauntering down the hall with an extra sway of your hips.

After a minute, he comes bouncing down the stairs and is greeted with the most incredible view.

Inside the kitchen, a now 21 year old Yuuji Itadori is wearing a floral apron and surrounded by plates of waffles and smiling.

“Happy birthday, Gojo-Sensei!” He says, before throwing his full strength muscular body at his old teacher.

“I didn’t know you were here! Thank, kid!” He smiles, ruffling Itadori’s hair.

“You made the waffles?” He asks.

From around the corner comes a chuckle and a giggle, as his daughter launches herself from her Uncle Soso’s arms and sprints toward her dad, ever the most loyal daddy’s girl.

“Papa’s day!” She squeals as she’s scooped up into her dad’s strong hold.

“Hello, cupcake. Were you playing with Uncle Soso?” He says, kissing her chubby cheeks as she nods, stroking his hair like her momma does.

“Happy birthday, Satoru.” Choso smiles, hugging him tight. Choso had really seen this family and said ‘yes, this one please.’ Actually, it was a two way street. You saw a sad, grieving man who loved as fiercely as you did and said ‘yes, this is my brother now.’

Itadori says when you or Gojo see a ‘stray’ it’s the epitome of the ‘you’re my friend now, we’re having soft tacos tonight’ TikTok sound.

“Thanks, Cho.” Satoru responds with a smile and a squeeze to the shoulder, almost forgetting he isn’t actually his brother-in-law.

The back door opens, and in comes a slightly snowy Shoko Ieiri, who catches his eye.

“Happy birthday, fuckwad.” She says, flicking him in the arm.

“Wow, so kind and gentle. Such a great godmother to set an incredible example.” He smiles, knowing that her greeting was actually the sign that Shoko truly loved him like a brother.

He knew why she’s been outside, she had followed the little pathway to the big tree where a black memorial plaque in a grove on the cottage’s surrounding land. You and him would go down there later.

She stick out her tongue at him and he laughs, rounding the corner to where the table lay.

Sat at the table was you, with your son on your lap - a diligent mama’s boy as you laughed with him, each holding a controller for your baby pink Switch as you raced in Mario Kart.

Beside you, standing up and holding an extortionately large jug of peach juice was his eldest. Megumi was shaking his head at whatever his little brother was saying and the hint of a smile could be seen in the upturned corner of his lips. He flicks his eyes up.

“Happy birthday, dad.” He says, and is immediately pulled into a bone crushing hug with kisses dotted across his face.

“My eldest! My firstborn! We sweet little man!” He cooed as the 21 year old man (only 3 inches shorter than his father, now fully grown) shoves and growls his way out of the intense affection.

“Nawh, let him have his cuddles ‘Gumi. He gets one day a year where he can annoy you without repercussions.” You laugh.

In the midst of the chaos, you and Akio slip away into the kitchen.

Itadori and Choso come in, and sit down followed by Shoko.

Gojo takes his normal seat beside your seat and pours a coffee with extra extra sugar.

Then a small chorus starts up, two small voices and one pretty one - soon turned into the whole room (even Megumi).

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday dear Papa/Dad/Gojo/‘Toru,

Happy birthday to you!”

followed by -

“Hip hip, hooray!”

Akio is carefully holding a stack of waffles, with a flickering candle reading ‘36’ on top and Mirai has paper plates in her hands, as you walk behind them - hands out just in case.

He takes the heavy plate from his son, grateful for his 5 year olds inheritance of his father’s physical strength and height, and blows out the candle, pressing a kiss to the crown of his son’s head.

“Thank you, my lil’ mochi.”

“Make a wish, papa!” Akio shouts.

“Papa wish!”

He looks at the table, wife perched on his lap and surrounded by family.

“No need.” He says, squeezing your thigh.

“Such a sap.” You say, burying your head in his neck.

Everyone tucks into their breakfast, and the sound of happy chatter is soon interrupted by an angry voice of a toddler who inherited her mother’s temper.

“Fuckwad!” Mirai shouted.

You all spin to look at her, and see she dropped a piece of her waffle only for it to be swept away by a fluffy grey cat.

“Shoko?” You ask.

“Yeah, that one was me.” She nods.

You all burst out laughing, before Megumi turns around and asks.

“Are we making it a tradition that the kids learn a new curse every family occasion, cos this is round two.”

“Hey! It's your birthday in two weeks, babe! How about dipshit for that one?“ Yuuji exclaims.

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #dad!gojo #gojo imagine #gojo smut

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growingfunwithaimain · 8 months

Text

Amidst the rainbow of sweets, Lily hesitated over a single candy. Its shell shimmered with a mysterious blue hue, calling to her like a siren's song. With a flick of her wrist, she snatched it off the shelf and brought it to her lips. The instant she bit down, her senses were assaulted by a burst of flavor.

But the surprise didn't end there. As she savored the delight, her skin began to transform. Starting from her fingertips, a wash of indigo washed over her limbs, spreading like ink through water. By the time she finished the last crumb, her entire being had been dyed a rich shade of midnight blue.

Yet, the crowd within the candy shop carried on as though nothing had changed. Their laughter echoed against the glass cases, their voices mere background noise to the surreal tableau unfolding before them.

Just when Lily thought things couldn’t get any more interesting, her hips decided to join the party. They began to widen, expanding like a balloon filled with joy. Soon, they were rounder than ever before, hugging her frame with a confidence that matched her newfound color scheme.

Meanwhile, her thighs grew thicker, like two ripe melons ready for plucking. The denim of her jeans clung to her legs, emphasizing every muscle and curve. Even the most stoic customer couldn’t resist the urge to ogle her backside.

In the midst of all this, Lily found herself reveling in her new form. She twirled around, watching the reactions of those who dared to look. Some turned away in shock, while others openly admired her figure. For Lily, it was a moment of pure euphoria, a celebration of her own beauty.

And so, she stood tall, proudly displaying her metamorphosis to anyone brave enough to catch a glimpse. After all, what better place to showcase one's newfound glory than inside a candy store?

With each passing minute, Lily grew taller, stretching towards the ceiling like a beanstalk reaching for the sky. Her abdominal muscles flexed beneath her skin, creating ripples that would make even the strongest gym rat jealous. And just when she thought she couldn’t possibly expand anymore, her shirt gave out, exploding in a shower of confetti.

Beneath the rubble lay her bare bosom, nipples standing at attention like sentinels guarding her treasure trove. The sheer audacity of her outfit malfunction drew stares from every corner of the shop. But Lily wasn’t fazed—she knew exactly how powerful she looked.

Her gaze locked onto a young man who had been eyeing her since the beginning. He blushed furiously, his cheeks turning redder than the cherry lollipops he held. Without saying a word, Lily extended her hand, beckoning him closer. With a nod of consent, he approached, his steps hesitant yet eager.

Together, they left the candy store, arm in arm, heading toward whatever adventure awaited beyond its doors. As they walked down the street, Lily felt invincible, knowing that wherever they went, they would turn heads and start conversations. Because sometimes, the best kind of candy isn’t something you eat; it’s someone you can take home.

Another request for @realmofgoddesses! I think this has been my favorite request to work on so far! It was a lot of fun and took a long time to get it the way i wanted it but that's why im taking requests! to learn more and improve!

#breast expansion #expansion kink #breast growth #giant breasts #growth #ai art #ai girl #artificial intelligence #ai #giantess

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merakiui · 2 years

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hi hi!! Thank you so much for doing this event!! TwT can I get sweet lollipops (abo friends with benefits to eventually lovers!!) with candy hearts (accidental knotting/pregnancy?) for our lovely alpha Floyd?

I hope I got that right! 💜

floyd leech x (gender neutral) reader cw: nsfw, abo/omegaverse, knotting, friends with benefits, omega!reader, alpha!floyd, heats note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

i. “this is just a one-time thing, okay?”

Celebrations at the Mostro Lounge are always extravagant events, luring in crowds so large the premises might resemble that of an overpacked sardine tin if it weren’t for Azul’s careful foresight. To avoid any unsavory issues, tonight’s celebration—a birthday party for a staff member—is strictly limited to Octavinelle residents and those working tonight’s shift, save for the exception that the birthday celebrant was permitted to invite friends from other dorms.

The lounge reflects this upbeat occasion, decorated in banners and streamers, confetti, and seashell-shaped light strands—all in pastel purples, blues, yellows, and pinks, colors resembling the shiny, waterlogged treasures found deep within the Coral Sea. There’s a buffet table that’s situated in the center of the room with snacks and desserts of all kinds, piled humorously high on silver platters that have not yet fallen over due to some special enchantment. Partygoers are scattered all throughout the lounge, some filling plates for themselves and others chatting around booths and in front of the massive aquarium, its aquatic illumination casting everything in cerulean hues.

You stand behind the bar drying and arranging crystal champagne flutes, a task so monotonous you’re lucky to listen in on nearby conversations to keep your brain perfectly sane. There are plenty of cloying smells that fill the lounge like helium inside a balloon, far more distracting than the scents of pastries and fruity, fizzy beverages. Your nose wrinkles at the distinctness of every alpha, omega, and beta in this room, some so robust you can practically taste them as they fog your brain with an unshakable haze.

Standing beside you, Azul works to mix and pour drinks, keeping up with each order in timely, flawless fashion. The clinking of glass and metal shakers brings you back to the present.

“You seem to be wearing quite the pensive look. A Madol for your thoughts?” Azul remarks without looking from the floor laid out before the both of you, his eyes scanning each and every partygoer, tallying them within his mind like they’re prey he’s preparing to net in one fell swoop.

You swallow a thick, awkward laugh, shaking your head to rid yourself of the cotton that’s been stuffed into your ears. Even the music spilling out of the speakers in loud, wild notes—courtesy of the birthday playlist assembled by the birthday boy and his friends—is muffled beyond comprehension, coming to you in a distant echo. You rub your shoe against the hardwood floor; it’s got a heartbeat, but that could just be because of the pounding music.

“(Name)?”

“Right. Thoughts. Madol. Yes,” you say with great haste, smacking your lips in a way that makes you look as if you’ve just tasted the air. And you are, technically, with every inhale and exhale. Amongst the many pheromones tinging the room, the ones that radiate from the alphas smell the most enticing. You blink through a sudden, all-consuming dizzy spell, head spinning. “I’m not thinking...about anything.”

Azul peers at you from his peripheral. “If you feel unwell, you’re welcome to take your break. I can handle things from here.”

“I’ll be fine...” You wipe sweat from your brow and tug at your collar. “Are you hot? It feels really hot in here.”

His brows knit together for a mere moment before a knowing glint flashes in his perceptive blues. It dawns on you, when he takes the glass from your trembling hands and sets it on the counter, that you are not as fine as you were a few moments ago. And both of you seem to have arrived at the same reason for why that might be.

“From one omega to another,” he murmurs, yet his voice sounds much clearer in this moment, “I suggest you take the rest of the night off before it catches up to you.”

You debate the suggestion, which is actually more of an order veiled within soft syllables, and you’re ready to insist you can power through it when your knees almost give out altogether when a particularly strong smell hits you. You slam your hands down upon the counter to keep your balance.

“This better not come out of my pay,” you mutter through grit teeth.

Azul barks out a laugh. “Why, I would never! We’re of the same sub-gender, after all. Naturally, we have to look out for one another.”

You try to roll your eyes, but it only makes you dizzier. You’ve done your best to ignore it so far, but now it’s impossible to not feel the slick that’s dampening your undergarments and rolling down your thighs in thick rivulets.

“Shall I send a beta to accompany you on your way back?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Azul looks like he wants to argue you on that, but instead he turns away to resume his current task. “Then I wish you a pleasant evening. Be safe.”

Pleasant, you think with bitter resentment. As if any of this is ever pleasant.

Luckily, the booming music and the absurd amount of scents within the lounge all but drowns yours out, allowing you to slip through the exit to follow the path that leads to Octavinelle's shadowed halls. The sprawling ocean looks much darker through the glass, as if it’s simply a liquid outer space or an endless abyss. Either one sounds equally terrifying. You stop your stagger-walk to lean against the cool surface, hoping to regain your sense of awareness. Shutting your eyes only makes you even more tipsy, so you press your forehead to the glass and exhale slowly.

It takes a moment for the world to stop tilting, but once it does you peel yourself away from the glass and continue to stumble onwards. In hindsight, you shouldn’t have decided to test fate when your calendar detailed your approaching heat, but that’s the least of your worries now. Not much can be done when it’s already upon you. Although you really wish it would have chosen to inconvenience you tomorrow when you weren’t set to work at the lounge.

The music is but a mere hum now, so distant it almost isn’t there, but you immediately forget about it when your shoe catches on something at the end of the hall, which sends you tumbling forwards. You land on frigid, unforgiving tiles with a harsh smack, and though the pain trickles through you it isn’t enough to distract you from the soothing scent of fresh rainfall. You blink through tears, forcing yourself to sit up, and find yourself staring into the face of Floyd Leech.

And he’s staring right back.

“F-Floyd? Didn’t you...” You inhale a deep breath, a poor move on your part because his smell encapsulates you entirely, and it almost knocks you over. “Kitchen shift... Azul put you on...food duty or...something.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” he mutters, looking bored and irritated all at once, as if your sudden arrival has disturbed his brooding in the dark. “Whatcha doin’ here? Thought you had a shift.”

You open your mouth to respond, but even that is too much for you; and so you slap your hands over your mouth, fixing him with a weak glare. Floyd’s never known just how strong his scent is, but you’ve always been able to differentiate it from the other staff members’ scents at the lounge because of how unmistakably Floyd it is. Unlike Jade, who dutifully wears scent blockers, Floyd could care less about the precautions most take to avoid any scent-related problems from cropping up. Sometimes you wish he was more like Jade, but then Jade never has any notable scent about him and that unnerves you more than the overwhelming nature of Floyd’s.

Floyd flashes his sharp teeth at you in a mocking grin. “Shrimpy looks so funny. Smells funny, too.”

You intend to put more vitriol into your glare, but his playful chuckle has you suppressing a needy, little whine. Your knuckles grow sore from how forcefully you’re clamping your hands over your mouth. If you don’t get back to Ramshackle soon, you’ll be a mess of sweat, pheromones, and slick and then that might draw unwanted attention. You attempt to stand, only to fail miserably when you sway on unsteady feet, and so you lower yourself onto your knees, glancing at Floyd’s colorful sneakers.

A breath shudders through you. The smell of rain and morning dew hangs heavy like cigarette smoke in the air. You can’t believe you’re about to verbalize your innermost desires, if they weren’t already blindingly apparent, but you can’t hold back any longer.

“Can you—” you swallow your inhibitions, far past the point of shame— “Can you help me?”

Floyd follows the length of his outstretched legs to look at you hunched over in front of him, your hands placed firmly on the floor to keep yourself from falling over.

His mismatched eyes hold mischief, but his face is neutral when he replies with: “Mmh... I guess. What do ya want help with?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you snap, and he tilts his head at you like you’re a bewildering curiosity. His acquiescence is all you really needed to hear, though, because you’re already shedding your uniform suit jacket in a breathless hurry. “Please don’t get smart right now. I just need—” You’re not sure what you need specifically, but you do know you need relief. And he’s the only alpha within reach. “I just need you to help.”

“Okaaay,” he drawls lazily, waiting there with his back against the glass. His figure is framed in the bright luminescence from the jellyfish swarming in the great depths beyond, and you crawl over his long legs and into his lap. He peers at you, amusement twinkling in his gaze. “Shrimpy’s so funny tonight!”

You admire him through the lenses unique to a heat. It’s more akin to a drunken stupor—the kind of phenomenon that makes strangers look ten times more appealing than they normally do if you’re sober—and every rugged, dangerous edge that composes Floyd suddenly seems so perfect and safe. Your fingers curl into the lapels of his jacket, and you yank him towards you, your lips mere centimeters from his. There’s no indication that he feels the same spark as you, but in this moment there doesn’t need to be any life-changing sparks. As long as he’s agreed to help you, you’ll take his assistance and nothing more.

“Floyd.”

“Shrimpy.”

“Can you...” You wiggle your hips, impatiently fumbling to shrug out of the straps of your high-waisted suspender trousers. You’re not very successful in this endeavor, so you give up with a frustrated huff. “Please touch me. D-Down there...”

“Sure thing,” he says with a nonchalance that’s frighteningly alarming.

You were certain that an omega in heat made it difficult for most alphas to focus, let alone properly function, when there were so many tempting smells and sounds coming from them. But then Floyd isn’t like most alphas. Floyd is uniquely Floyd in every possible way. He doesn’t conform to the typical standards applied to other alphas. But it does sting a little to think that, with how undoubtedly cloying your pheromones must be, he isn’t affected in the slightest. He’s not even hard, which feels like a chip in your omega pride, but you’re too frantic with lust to dwell on it.

Floyd's rough hands grab your waist and he lifts you up slightly, pressing you flush against his chest so that he can yank your trousers down for easier access. The fabric bunches halfway at your knees, but that hardly matters in the moment. You’re certain the wet spot would have been noticeable if it weren’t for the dim lighting in the hall, and you’re secretly grateful for the lack of brightness.

“T-This is just a one-time thing, okay?”

“Whatever you say.”

You’re not sure why he sounds so disinterested, but you don’t care enough to ask. And when he slides your soaked underwear to the side so that he can thrust two slender fingers up inside your dripping hole, you slump against him, gripping his shoulders like he’s the only one who can keep you afloat amidst the turbulent sea you’ve found yourself in. With your face buried in the crook of his neck, where his scent glands are so close and produce the headiest scent you’ve ever come to know, you cum with a strangled, gasping cry, slick clinging to your thighs in translucent, stringy ribbons. Floyd doesn’t say anything, continuing to curl his fingers inside tight, wet, gummy walls, which leaves you shuddering and sobbing with ecstasy.

You lick at his neck, pressing lingering kisses to every available inch, breathing in his scent as if it’s your oxygen. Your teeth prick the surface of his skin, but before you can bite down he’s grabbing your chin with his free hand and smashing his mouth against yours in a sloppy, aggressive kiss. Your teeth click against his, and his tongue flicks past your lips, searching for yours. You meet him halfway, kissing back as fervently as you roll your hips against his hand, taking a third and a fourth finger in one thrust. He’s worked you open with delightful movements, scissoring you as roughly as he kisses, and when you break away to gulp down mouthfuls of air Floyd licks his lips clean of saliva—your saliva.

You’re not sure if it was possible for you to get wetter, but you do and you reach your second—or perhaps it’s your third—climax with a squeal.

“You can put it in. Please put it in,” you mumble, mind fuzzy with one single thought: If you aren’t fucked sore and senseless right now, you might never recover from this heat. “Please, Flo... Floyd, put it in...” You palm at his crotch, satisfied that there’s now a stiffness straining against his trousers, and you reach up to slide his suit jacket off his broad shoulders. “I need it. I’ll cover your shifts for a week—no, two weeks—three weeks! Anything you want—just need you inside me...”

Floyd hums his consideration. “Don’t wanna,” he eventually says, cutting off your whiny protests with another expert curl of his fingers. “S’too much work.”

That seems to sober you a little, and though your entire body is flushed with warmth there’s an odd coldness that seeps through. You lose track of how many times you cum, but at some point you must have slipped into unconsciousness from the exhaustion of it all. When you wake, the sun’s just barely peeking over the horizon, and you’re lying in your work clothes in your room at Ramshackle Dorm. You feel and smell so filthy, covered in slick and sweat that has dried sticky on your skin, but the worst of your heat has abated for now. You know this isn’t the last of it—that there’s more to come in the next few days and that you’ll just feel so foggy-headed until the true instinctual lust hits and you’re leaking through your undergarments like a broken faucet.

Groggily, you sit up, rubbing the crust from your eyes, only to flop back down.

Bath can wait, you think, yawning. It’s way too early for that.

You feel something bunched underneath you, and for a moment you think it’s Floyd. Though you’re not sure why he immediately pops into your mind, you’re given your answer when you pull the suit jacket out from beneath you. It smells pleasantly of a rainy morning, musky and earthy, a pleasant petrichor that could only belong to Floyd.

ii. “you smell like shrimpy. ain’t that good enough?”

Floyd is an elusive force. He appears and disappears whenever he feels like it—almost like a playful poltergeist haunting a house. If he wants you to find him, you’ll find him. Today, it’s not Floyd you find when you venture through the courtyard in search of him, but rather Jade. You suppose he’s better than no one, and if you look at him from the wrong angle he becomes Floyd. So this is the best you can do in this moment. Perhaps it’s convenient you don’t have to face Floyd because you haven’t even rehearsed what you’ll say to him—if you even want to say anything to him about that night.

“I’d like to return Floyd’s jacket,” you tell him in your best professional tone, offering it to him alongside a packaged pastry.

Jade gazes at your outstretched hands. “The pastry as well?”

“Please don’t be a smart-ass.”

He hides his sharp smile behind a gloved fist. “Is there a reason you’re in possession of Floyd’s jacket?” As if to be even more irritating than he already is, he adds, “And Floyd’s pastry?”

You avoid his stare, distracting yourself with the sight of your scuffed shoes. “N-No reason in particular...”

But Jade is not the type to drop a subject he’s found interest in, which leaves him thoroughly invested in this not-so-mysterious mystery. “No reason at all?” he presses, brows raising. “If I recall, Floyd’s been left without a jacket for a week. This is merely speculation—take it with a grain of salt—but you must have been indisposed for a few days to deal with...‘personal matters,’ as Azul had called it, hence why we didn’t see you at the lounge. Is it correct to assume you may have been burdened with a certain biological inconvenience?”

“Not true! He lent it to me. Yeah, lent it to me. That’s all there is to it.”

“And the pastry?”

“Oh my—Jade, please just take your brother’s jacket. You’re killing me here.”

“On the contrary, I haven’t yet twisted the knife deep enough.”

You groan, deflating before him like a boneless fish. “You already know why I have his jacket. Don’t make this difficult.”

He chuckles; you don’t see what’s so hilarious about this situation. “Well, I was made aware of specific details, yes. What was it you had told Floyd? Ah, right. You would cover his shifts for three weeks if he—”

“Ahaa, Shrimpy, there you are!” Before you can listen to the rest of what was going to be a highly flustering sentence, Floyd crashes into you from behind, wrapping his arms around you, while you nearly topple over from the impact. Thankfully, he steadies you with strong arms. “I was lookin’ all over for you!”

“What a coincidence. So was I.” You squirm in his grasp, holding his jacket and the pastry up for his viewing pleasure. “For you.”

“So that’s where it was! Thanks, Shrimpy! Didja take good care of it for me?”

You stare at him. Did he seriously forget where his own jacket was?

“I don’t know what flavors you like, but I got this custard bread for you.”

“Huh? What for? It’s not my birthday.” The arm curled around your waist tightens its crushing grip, persuading you to admit your reasoning before he squeezes and your guts spill out through cracked bone. “It’s not even a holiday. What gives?”

“It’s for your help that night. A thank you from me to you.”

He snatches both from you, draping his jacket over his shoulder, and inspects the packaging. “Hey, this looks yummy. Thanks, Shrimpy!” He digs something out of his pocket, takes your hand, spreads your fingers, and drops it in your palm. “I also got a little somethin’ for ya.”

It’s a golden canine tooth, most likely one that came from a beastman. There’s still some blood and gum sticking to it.

“Um. Thanks?” You choke down the urge to shiver.

Floyd giggles, looking quite satisfied with himself.

Jade stares at it, unsurprised. “May I ask where you acquired this tooth?”

Floyd shrugs, releasing you from his smothering hug. “Asked some guy where Shrimpy was and he kept dodgin’ the question. Had to pull the answer right from his mouth.”

“I see.”

You stuff the tooth into your pocket, wiping your palm against the fabric of your blazer, and grin awkwardly. “I appreciate the...gift.”

You’ve never traded a pastry for a tooth before. But, hey, there are firsts for everything, right?

“You like it?! I can get more for Shrimpy! Which ones do you like best? Gold? Silver?”

“No, that’s okay. One is enough.”

One is too much, actually...

Floyd hums his contentment, the scent of rain rolling off of him in happy waves. You inhale as subtly as you can. He smells good—perhaps much better now that you’ve toed the line of intimacy with him—however emotionless it may have been—and have had an entire week to familiarize yourself with his scent. It settles your frazzled nerves, allowing you a small fraction of confidence...that immediately shrivels when you recall how he’d called your scent funny.

“Do I...” You shrug your anxieties off, forcing the question out from the confines of your dry throat. “Do I smell bad?”

Floyd looks through you rather than at you. “Never said that.”

“You didn’t say I smelled good either.” You cross your arms over your chest. “For the record, I think you smell good.”

That prompts a tiny laugh from Jade. “As riveting as your human courting techniques are, I’m afraid I must be on my way. I wish you a pleasant afternoon, (Name). Floyd, I’ll see you at dinner.”

“‘Kaaay.”

You’ve never been more glad to see him and his troublesome smirk go, and you curse him six ways from Sunday with each step he takes, until it’s just you and Floyd standing in the center of the sparsely populated courtyard.

Floyd unwraps the pastry without much decorum, taking an obnoxious chomp from it while he waits for you. Crumbs stick to his face and gather on his uniform like sugar snowfall.

“So I do smell bad.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Shrimpy,” he says around a mouthful of pastry. “You smell like Shrimpy. Ain’t that good enough?”

What in the world does ‘shrimpy’ even smell like?

You tilt your head back and forth, unsure of what to truly say. “I... Floyd, your scent really helped me. Like, a lot. And I know you probably don’t think it did, but your jacket made things way more tolerable than they usually are.”

He’s licking his fingers clean now, nodding along to what you’re saying with bright, eager eyes.

You steel yourself with it’s now or never. “My budget has been low lately, so I haven’t been able to afford suppressants for the next few months. And between attending classes, working at the lounge, and keeping Ramshackle in good shape, I can’t lose a week’s time because of my heats. So... So what I’m trying to say—what I’m trying to get at here... I guess what I really want—can we make this not a one-time thing, but a monthly thing instead? If you helped me, you could cut my heats down to just two or three days. I can buy you more pastries if you want, or I can cover your shifts. Please just help me out again. I’ll do anything.”

It feels useless and pathetic to beg, especially since you know how mercurial he can be, so sometimes it’s as though you’re speaking to an immovable wall. In fact, you might have better luck going to Azul or Jade if you really wanted—

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” He grins. “Why not? Sounds fun.”

“So it doesn’t sound like ‘too much work’?”

“Nah. Shrimpy’s fun.” He crumples the empty packaging and stuffs it in his pocket. “And fun things aren’t work.”

“All right... If you say so.”

You aren’t going to push it any further, lest you risk annoying him and losing this chance.

iii. “most importantly, we’re just friends and nothing more.”

It’s raining today. Normally, watching gloomy weather unfold fosters unrest within you. But this time Floyd’s with you, lying sprawled in a cramped alcove in the library, all lanky limbs outstretched, while you flip through a textbook in search of anything that might give you more insight into how to cure heats or, at the very least, halt them in a way that doesn’t require expensive medicines. Floyd’s scrolling on his phone, a lollipop between his lips. He’d caught your scent on the wind and had gravitated towards it, and you’d smelled him the minute he stepped into the hallway to follow you into the library. You let him accompany you because there’s no shaking Floyd once he’s made up his mind.

With the lack of sunlight, the lighting in the library is dimmer than usual. It’s peacefully comfortable despite the rain-spattered windowpanes and the cloudy sky beyond ancient, dusty confines. You peer at Floyd from where you sit. He’s looking through an online shoe catalogue.

“Do you like shoes?”

“They’re cool,” he replies without missing a beat. “And the surface’s got lotsa cool designs and styles.”

Briefly, you glance at your worn pair in hopes that looking long enough will give you an idea for what to say next. It doesn’t work as intended, but Floyd doesn’t seem keen to continue chatting with you, his attention focused squarely on his phone screen. You return to the task at hand, skimming a few chapters on alpha and omega biology, information on betas, and even an in-depth analysis on heat and rut nuances. Nothing tells you of the panacea needed to rid yourself of your heats.

Defeated, you shut the textbook with a sigh. Floyd’s looking at you now, his phone swiftly pocketed. You slump in your seat. He smiles lopsidedly when he knows you’re watching him.

“All good?”

You nod, but your words contradict that. “I can’t find a cure for heats and it’s a little frustrating.”

“Why do you wanna cure ‘em? You got me for that, don’tcha?”

“Yeah. But… Actually, since you’re here, can we go over a few rules? My next heat isn’t scheduled until next month, but I’d like to set some boundaries before we do anything.”

Floyd pulls the lollipop stick from his mouth and twists it into a knot. “Lay ‘em on me.”

You nod, push the textbook away from you, and scoot your chair closer to the alcove. “You can’t bite.” You point at your neck. “Anywhere else is fine, but here is off limits.”

Floyd mirrors your actions, tapping the area where his glands reside with a hum. “I won’t bite.” His smile says otherwise, but you take him for his word.

“And no knotting.”

“No knotting.”

“No breeding either.”

“No breeding.”

“And… And no kissing.”

“No kissing. Gotcha.”

“You’re being surprisingly agreeable about this.”

Floyd shrugs. “It’s what Shrimpy wants.”

“Right. Okay. Well.” You wring your hands together. “Most importantly, we’re just friends and nothing more.”

“Just friends,” he parrots. “Nothing more.”

“Cool.” You nod to yourself, but it does nothing to dispel the awkwardness. “Awesome. Cool...”

Floyd pops up from the alcove seat like a reanimated corpse springing from a grave. He grabs your hand and tugs you up from your chair, all boisterous energy and laughter despite the vicious shushes you receive from nearby students.

“Let’s go swimming!”

You have no idea where this came from, but you allow yourself to be tugged from the library, abandoning the pile of textbooks you’d been perusing for nearly an hour. And though your spirits had been dampened considerably by the information, or rather lack thereof, you seem to forget about it while you watch Floyd splash freely around in the Octavinelle pool, swimming laps with such smooth precision. You dip your bare feet in the chilled water, entertaining him with a game of fetch, tossing a diving ring each time he brings it back to you.

And within no time your frown has lifted into a genuine smile.

Later, during your shift, Jade brushes past you. “Floyd has been in such a pleasant mood today,” he remarks, nodding towards his brother, who’s currently balancing trays as he happily skips from table to table, a whistle in his voice. “I wonder if something exciting has happened. Do share. I so dislike being left out of the loop.”

Knowing Jade and his affinity for omniscience, you suspect he’s already within the loop. And it’s not as if you could lie to him; he’d find out eventually when Floyd starts smelling more like you and you start smelling more like Floyd. So it’s best to be honest about it, even if it is a little uncomfortable admitting such a thing to Jade.

“Floyd’s going to help me with my heats.”

“Is that so? How kind of him. You have my most sincerest blessings.” Jade holds a hand over his heart. “Take good care of Floyd now. He can be rather sensitive, though he doesn’t seem it.”

“We’re not getting married, Jade.”

He smiles innocently. Your gazes are drawn to Floyd as he approaches with empty trays. He catches your eye and grins broadly, waving in a manner so ecstatic you’d think he’s just meeting you again for the first time in years.

“I wouldn’t be so certain about a hypothetical that has yet to be proven.”

“Then, hypothetically, I marry into the Leech family. What then?”

“I believe that would make us in-laws, no?”

“Right. And, hypothetically, my dear in-law goes missing and is never found again because he can’t keep his annoying mouth shut. What then?”

“You would have quite the crime on your hands. I don’t think the sea would show you much mercy.”

Floyd’s hands clap down upon your shoulders at that moment. “Whatcha talkin’ about?”

Jade’s grin sharpens into something predatory when he looks at Floyd, who’s resting his chin on top of your head. “We were merely discussing how we might dispose of the other should (Name) marry into the family.”

“Ooh! Shrimpy’s marryin’ Jade, huh?”

You and Jade answer in unison, though your responses are very contrasting.

“That can be arranged.”

“Absolutely not!”

Floyd pinches your cheek, cooing playfully. “I wouldn’t mind it. That means I’d get to see Shrimpy all the time.”

“Although, as honored as I am to consider a future with (Name), I believe Floyd would be a much better fit for you.”

“Huh? Why me?” Floyd looks at you more closely, inspecting you with narrowed eyes, and then he barks out a high laugh. “No way, Jade. You hafta like someone if you wanna marry ‘em.”

You twist out of Floyd’s arms. “And we all have to work if we don’t want Azul on our cases!” With a huff, you snatch the trays from under Floyd’s arm and stomp off towards the kitchen, listening to the twins’ laughter as you go.

iv. “shrimpy’s rule: no knotting.”

In the days leading up to your heat, Floyd is a leech, not just in surname but in the literal sense. He’s almost always hanging around you. From working the same hours at the lounge to accompanying you to and from classes to meeting you at Ramshackle first thing in the morning, he is your shadow. It almost feels like he’s attached to you by some invisible thread and can only go so far before he’s drawn back in by way of magnetic force. You thought it was weird, but then Floyd has always been weird and so this sort of behavior isn’t uncharacteristic. Rather, it makes perfect sense for him to stick to you like a barnacle. Why, you might ask? The simple answer is that he’s found entertainment in you and isn’t going to give up until he grows bored.

But the complex answer comes to you days before your scheduled heat, when Ace had none-too-subtly pointed out that you smell. He didn’t say you smelled funny, which had been a little soothing, but even Deuce had echoed his sentiment. You didn’t smell like yourself, they had told you. So you asked what you smelled like and without missing a beat they replied: “Like rain.”

You had laughed and then paused to consider what felt like an absurdity and then laughed again. Floyd isn’t your alpha and you’re not his omega. There shouldn’t be any reason for him to scent you. You shrug off Ace’s teasing and Deuce’s genuine curiosity in favor of focusing on your lunch. Lunch, you’ve decided, is much tastier than whatever confusion you were previously feasting on.

Unlike last month’s heat, you’re ready for this one. You wake and attend classes as you normally would, only feeling the faintest itch of what’s to come, but by your final class you’re woozy, struggling to stay centered while the lecture goes in one ear and out the other in a string of mushed syllables. You’re not completely gone when you shuffle out of class, ignoring the whispers that are thrown around, and you only truly perk up when a familiar smell hits you head-on.

Floyd leans against the wall, a casual smile pulling his lips apart. “My dorm or yours?”

“Yours,” you blurt, only to shake your head hastily. “No... No, not yours. Mine is better.”

He giggles and tilts his head at you. “Okaaay!”

Floyd hardly has any time to shut the door and drop your belongings on the sofa before you’re grabbing at him, clinging like a koala, and he gathers you in his arms and covers the distance to your bedroom. You’re quickly losing yourself to instinctual lust, shedding your articles of clothing as easily as you whimper his name. Floyd’s grinning as he follows your example, his eyes tracking your every movement. You flop onto your bed after you’ve discarded your rumpled uniform, skin hot and sticky with sweat and slick. Floyd’s pheromones fill the room at once, and you reach for him when he crawls on top of you, caging you between sturdy, muscled arms.

“Shrimpy smells funny again.”

“Knock it off, will you?” you spit, but the irritation doesn’t last long when you get another whiff of him and you throw your head back with an impatient sigh. “I don’t smell funny... Ace and Deuce didn’t think I smelled funny.”

“Yeah?” he prompts, palming your drenched hole, sliding two fingers past rings of wet muscle.

You shift underneath him, hissing out a breathy moan through grit teeth. “They said...” Another gasp. “They said I smelled like—” Your hands grip the sheets when he adds a third finger, lazily working you open with dexterous digits. “Like ra—aah—rain.”

“Musta been rainin’ that day.”

“N-No, you were... Your smell. You smell like—mmh. Like the rain.”

You don’t miss his tongue as it darts out to wet his lips. The lewd squelching of his fingers pumping in and out of you permeates the air, replacing any words he might have wanted to say. You shut your eyes with a blissful hum. Perhaps if you weren’t already so deep in your heat you might be able to sift through your thoughts with more coherence. But then, if you weren’t so deep in your heat, you wouldn’t be in this position in the first place, and so you probably wouldn’t get this far with your curiosity.

“Were you... Hah... Were you scenting me? I couldn’t tell because...”

Because your scent’s already so familiar.

Floyd doesn’t answer, but he does withdraw his hand and you whine low in your throat. Your displeasure is short-lived, though, for rough hands spread your thighs next, and before you know it he’s between your legs, licking a stripe up your slick-coated entrance. By instinct, you attempt to shut your legs, wanting to lock him there forever, but his hands keep you spread wide for him, and so you rest your ankles upon his shoulders while he continues to lick and nip, his razored teeth just barely scraping skin.

Suddenly, pressing him for answers doesn’t seem like your main priority when a long, thick tongue pushes its way into you at the next moment. He hums his enjoyment, and the vibrations ripple through you like waves in a pond. It’s much better than anything you could have accomplished with just your fingers alone, and you can’t stop the noisy mewls that fall freely from your lips, breathy and pitched in a way that foretells approaching orgasm. With the way his fingertips burrow into the pudge of your thighs to the way his tongue sloppily works in and out of you, the warmth in your stomach builds to an insurmountable level, and it isn’t long until you’re tipping over the edge. You dig your fingers into teal locks, pressing him firmly against your crotch, and cum with a strangled shout.

Floyd withdraws, his face glistening with your slick, and you shudder at both the sight of him and the faint ache of emptiness. He swipes a stray droplet from his cheek and samples it with a slow lick. You almost cum again, heat kindling within you once more.

“Ahaaa,” he exhales giddily, pupils blown so wide they eclipse his irises. “Shrimpy’s like a fountain today!”

You lessen your grip on his hair, chest heaving as you come down from your high, and tug him back onto the bed, hurrying to swap the positions before he can grab hold of you. You fumble with his still-hardening dick, coating your fingers with your slick and attempting to pump it with awkward, inexperienced strokes. Floyd supports himself on his elbows, eyeing you as you lean down to take the head of his cock in your mouth.

He hisses out a laugh. “Shrimpy’s not very good at this, huh?”

You want to snap at him, but all you can manage is a disgruntled scoff. You’ve entertained scenes like this in your dreams, in which you were skilled in all areas of sex, but now that you’re actually leaning over him, giving it your best effort to fit half of him in your mouth, you realize your dreams painted an ideal version of you that is not applicable to the real-world you. And that dents your pride a little. At least you can blame your sloppiness on your heat, which has you rushing through the motions in your impatience. Miraculously, your mouth manages to work some magic because his cock stiffens completely, curving up at an angle that you’re certain will hit the deepest spots within you.

You pull off of him with a wet pop and he giggles, reaching to pinch your cheek. Swatting at his hand, you crawl over him, straddling him, and brace your hands upon his chest. Floyd watches you, his arms folded behind his head, as he lies back and allows you to do the work. Your fingers wrap around the base of his cock, holding it steady while you align the soft, fleshy head with your hole. For a tense minute, you stare at the way the tip’s kissing your slit, oozing pre-cum. Had you been less omega-brained, you might have fretted over whether something so big would even fit, but right now all you need is to be completely filled to the brim.

Floyd unfolds his arms and rests his hands on your hips, seeming both amused and endeared to witness the emotions that shift on your face. Your eyes flick to his mismatched ones.

“Please...” You shiver, your hands closing around his larger ones. “Please, Floyd...”

You think that might have tempted him, for you’re hit with a stronger wave of his pheromones, but the thought is knocked out of your head when he lowers you onto his cock in a way that is uncharacteristically gentle. Your nails dig into his hands as slick, gummy walls swallow inch after thick inch. He’s concentrating on the way you stretch around him, groaning through clenched teeth, and he’s not even halfway in when you cum with a desperate wail. Floyd smirks up at you and, with his nails poking your hips, slams you down in one swift motion, spearing you entirely on his cock. You cry out your relief in delighted gasps.

“I-It’s inside...” you mumble, awestruck, as you press a hand to your stomach in an attempt to feel him. “It really—haah... Really fit...”

“‘Course it did,” he says pridefully. “I knew Shrimpy could do it.”

“Shrimpy only did it because of how wet—ah!” You nearly collapse when he thrusts up suddenly, the tip of his cock hitting a sensitive spot that sends pleasurable shockwaves rattling through you. You fix him with a weak scowl, but he isn’t looking at you. He’s looking at your hand intertwined with his while the other remains on your waist, keeping you steady. You loosen your grip for a moment before curling your fingers with a confidence only fostered by your heat. “C-Can I hold it?”

“S’not goin’ anywhere.”

You stick your tongue out at him and he laughs; and soon you’re starting to smile.

Swallowing your own heat-drunk giggles, you lift your hips slowly and ease back down onto him, shuddering at the way he fills you so completely. You do this a few more times while Floyd gleefully observes, and it isn’t long before you’re settling into a satisfying pace. He guides you up and down, watching you come undone with each steady roll of your hips. You’re a mess above him, fucking yourself silly while he meets you halfway with an occasional rough thrust, and you hold his hand so tightly you think you might tear it from his wrist. Floyd’s groans and grunts are music to your ears, spurring you onwards in your endeavors. You’re certain it’s just a byproduct of the heat, but he looks so enchanting beneath you, squeezing your hip and then reaching up to twist one of your perky nipples between his fingertips.

“Feels good?”

“So good,” you pant, breaths hot and wet. You’re overcome with the urge to pull him up and into your arms so that you can be even closer, but you’re too focused on feeling him deeper and so you never act on the temptation. “R-Really—mmph! Really good!”

He traces patterns into your stomach, giggling breathlessly. “I can tell. Shrimpy’s squeezin’ me soooo much.”

Neither of you seem to realize the base of his cock has swelled a considerable amount, but it’s brought to your attention the next time you slam your hips down and you’re stopped by his knot. You peer at it with lidded, glassy eyes and your omega instincts flare wildly, all messy bundles of nerves fraying at the idea that that could be inside you—that it should be inside you—locking you and Floyd together. You raise your hips, inches sliding out of you gradually, and you prepare yourself to take him—knot and all—when Floyd’s hand breaks from out of your hold to grab your waist, stopping your swift descent.

“Nuh-uh,” he chides, and you growl at him, almost animalistic with anger. “Shrimpy’s rule: No knotting.”

“This is—aah... Mmh... This is different. A t-trial run. This time...doesn’t count.”

“Hee hee. Shrimpy’s gonna regret it later.”

You squirm in his hold, begging him to keep moving through whimpers and whines, and he complies with a playful whistle.

“Please. Just once. Just once and then—”

“Mm, nope,” he says, popping the ‘P.’

“Floooyd...”

“Shrimpyyy.”

You sigh a sad, little sound that has Floyd’s eyes softening. His knuckle pets your cheek, oddly fond.

“S’just the heat talking,” he reminds you, and you lean into his warm, welcoming hand. “See? Shrimpy’s just followin’ instincts.”

He slides you off of him and your hole clenches uselessly around nothing. Within seconds, he’s flipped you so that you’re lying on your back and he’s above you. His teeth flash at you, sharp and bright, wild and untamed. You sandwich his face between your palms, adoring the way nasally laughter ripples through him. You’re glad he isn’t a mirror because if he was he might reflect an expression you don’t wish to confront at this very moment.

Floyd’s positioned himself and in one speedy thrust that nearly knocks the air from your lungs he slots himself inside, only this time you feel the overwhelming stretch of his knot as it fills you entirely, and you howl with ecstasy, linking your arms around his neck to bring him closer to your throat. Floyd moans lowly, resting his arm above your head and biting into the muscle so hard thin ribbons of blood streak from the punctures. Your chest is heaving, heart pounding out an erratic, heat-driven rhythm, and you cum around his thick knot with a strangled sob, tears running down your cheeks.

Within just a few more tight thrusts, Floyd’s emptied his creamy load inside, and you don’t have the sobriety to consider the weight of broken rules—rules that you had specifically put in place. You listen to his soft pants as he pulls away from his arm, saliva and blood stringing from his lips, and he licks it away with a swipe of his tongue. When he attempts to slide out, your face twists in discomfort.

“Hurts...”

“Aw. I’m sorry, Shrimpy,” he coos, adjusting your position so that he’s lying on his back and you’re resting on top of his chest, his knot still buried within you. His hand rests upon the small of your back, and he gives you a pleased, toothy grin. “Feel better now?”

“A little. Thank you,” you whisper, laying your head over his heart while the extremities of your heat ebb away, satisfied now that you’ve been properly filled and knotted by an alpha. His heart beats a steady thrum: buh-bum, buh-bum, buh-bum. The sweet scent of rain encases the both of you, easing you into a sleepy spell. You peer at the bite mark on his forearm and frown. “You bit yourself?”

“Didn’t wanna bite your neck.”

“Oh.” Your eyes flick to his, but he’s avoiding your stare, his cheeks tinged the faintest pink while he gazes at the ceiling. It’s a rare sight to see the Floyd Leech flustered and withdrawn; you wonder what’s the cause of this sudden shift in character. “You could’ve bitten anywhere else. I...wouldn’t have minded.”

“Didn’t wanna hurt you.”

“Oh.”

He’s looking at you now, the color on his cheeks fading, and a bashful smile plays at his lips. “Didn’t mean to break your rule.”

You reach up to run your fingers through his hair, petting him gently. “It’s fine. We’ll figure it out once we’re unstuck.”

His chest rumbles with laughter. “Whatcha wanna talk about ‘til then?”

“Um... Well, what’s a good stuck-together conversation topic?”

Floyd hums thoughtfully. “You like shiny stuff?”

You blink at him. “Yeah. Why?”

“Just askin,’” he says, but his eyes flash with mischief. He leans in until his nose is touching yours. “Cuz I like shiny stuff, and Shrimpy’s glowin’ right now.”

Your face warms considerably and you push him away with an embarrassed groan. His giggles are muffled in your palm. “Not when we’re stuck together...”

v. “rather, ‘honey rain’ has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

You’re in the process of discussing spring weather with Azul when Floyd rushes up to you, takes your hand, gently spreads your fingers open as if they’re petals, and drops something onto your palm. You expect another tooth or a stone or a crumpled flower—all items he’s been gifting you at random over the course of a few months; what you don’t expect is an eel keychain. Perhaps you should have, though. You’ve learned to expect the unexpected with Floyd.

“What’s this?”

“For you!”

“An eel...for me?”

He nods and holds up a shrimp keychain. Your face warms when the implication becomes clear.

“It’s cute. Thanks. I’ll keep it safe.”

Floyd beams at you and presses his lips to your cheek in a fleeting smooch. Just as quick as he had come, he’s retreating, skipping off in delight, his laughter echoing down the halls while he ignores your flustered shout. You know he wants you to pursue him, but you’re too embarrassed to give chase. Instead, you scrub at your cheek with a huff. He’s always kissing your cheeks and sometimes even your lips. You enjoy it too much to remind him of all the rules the both of you have since broken. They mean nothing now.

“You certainly smell pleased,” Azul remarks with a sly smirk.

“It’s better than smelling funny.”

“Floyd still hasn’t told you what you smell like?”

“No! And it’s really annoying!” You peer at the tiny plush eel in your hands, its beady eyes and stitched smile taunting you. “It’s always ‘Shrimpy smells funny’ and never ‘Shrimpy smells like something that isn’t funny.’”

“I can assure you your scent is not at all humorous. It’s actually quite pleasant.”

“Are you just saying that to be nice, or are you saying that to be nice?”

Azul shakes his head in amusement. “Can’t I compliment a fellow omega and, most importantly, a friend?”

“Can’t you admit the truth?”

“Details, details.” He waves the dig away dismissively. “It’s no wonder Floyd fancies you so. He adores sweet things.”

“Oh, do I smell sweet then? Like candy? Or maybe like a pastry?”

“You smell like floral honey.”

“Huh. That’s...definitely not a funny scent.”

“Not at all. Rather, ‘honey rain’ has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

You wonder if you should object. You wonder if you should try to claim that you and Floyd are still friends despite the evolution of your arrangement. Neither of you have admitted it, but it’s obvious you’ve stepped over the boundary of ‘just friends’ and have entered new territory—territory that’s so very akin to lovers.

But you only smile covertly. “Yeah, it does,” you mumble, tracing your finger over the eel’s tilted head. “It really does.”

#tw: abo #tw: omegaverse #tw: knotting #n/sfw #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader #lunar love hotel 2023 #fluffy floyd hours #since the type of writing wasn't specified i decided to write a oneshot :D

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seulgiwifeee · 7 months

Text

Secret Admirer pt. 2 || Seulgi

(PLEASE READ THE FIRST SECRET ADMIRER BEFORE READING THIS.. OR REREAD IF YOU NEED A REFRESHER ON THE STORYLINE !!)

♡ Member: Classmate*Seulgi x

Loser*Femreader

♡ Theme: ;)

♡ Warning: None

♡ Description: For months you've communicated with Seulgi by sending her secret admirer letters, but one day you decide to try taking things further between the two of you.

Word count: 4.6k

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Seulgi furrows her brows, tilting her head at you with confusion, but still accepts the paper.

Jittering teeth chatter behind your sealed lips and you fiddle with the stray threads hanging from the hem of your skirt as you anxiously watch Seulgi unfold the note. Once she finally reveals it to herself, scanning over the written words, it takes everything in you to not shut your eyes out of fear, clutching tighter onto the fabric of your skirt.

♡ Surprise! I hope you're satisfied. ♡

If so, WILL YOU BE MY VALENTINE?

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ ♡

— XOXO, Candy ♡

Seulgi reads the note out lowly, just enough for you to hear, repeating herself as her mind soaks in and fully comprehends the words.

"Candy.." Seulgi mutters to herself again, slowly lifting her head and staring at you with an unreadable expression. Was it shock? Impressment? Disgust?

To make this interaction go by quicker before you melt into a puddle of shame from the overlapping feelings that continue to sting at you, you reveal Seulgi's Valentine's gifts from behind you and show them off to her. "I.. I got you this."

You pull out a bouquet and set it gently in her arms. "I honestly don't know what kind of flowers these are, but since I saw they were orange and know that your favorite color is orange I bought them for you." You then hand her a tiny gift basket. "I got you this panda bear because you had mentioned it was your favorite animal, and I tried to craft you this uh.. sort of bouquet of lollipops thing instead of giving you anything chocolate related since I remembered you said you weren't the hugest fan of it.. And then there's just some filler confetti down there at the bottom and uh.. yeah.. that's it.

I know it's not a lot, it's just all I could afford and— yeah.”

You pin your focus on anywhere but Seulgi's direction as she takes the basket from you. You grab onto the ends of your pigtails tightly, nervously glancing up to watch her examine your gifts, seeing her pull the stuffed panda out for a better look. She checks out the little orange bowtie detail you'd sewn on it and the custom orange cursive of her name you had embroidered into the bottom of the plushie's foot.

Seulgi looks up at you again in what looks like disbelief, her lips parted in a small 'o.' You squeeze your pigtails tighter, trying so hard not to avoid eye contact as you wait for what she'll say.

"You.. You're seriously Candy? You're the one who's been sending me the admirer letters all this time?"

Your body hairs stick up cold, hesitantly nodding your head in confirmation.

You're so uncertain by Seulgi. There's no telling what her next move could be, but as of what it seems like right now, all you can do is just prepare for the worst for the way her silence is speaking for her.

You ball your shaky fists to your side, squeezing your eyes shut, not able to look at her for any longer as the deafening silence continues on, and the longer it lasts—the longer of it allowing your negative thoughts to speak to you—the more of the war between you and your self-consciousness takes over, your mind unfortunately winning and now has you feeling like you've messed up, badly.

"Seulgi.. I'm so sor—"

At last out of fear, you try to apologize to Seulgi for clearly wasting her time, but to your utmost surprise, your muscles go tense, gasping sharply from the feeling of small arms tied around you as you're forced into a sudden hug.

Your eyes shoot open from the unexpected gesture and your mind runs to a panic when you look down to see Seulgi tightly wrapped around you. You don't know what to do. You continue to stand there frozen in place for what feels like hours until Seulgi eventually lets go of you.

You cover your burning cheeks, staring at Seulgi in embarrassment and confusion.

"Wha—? What was that for?" you ask nervously in a hush, your trembling voice barely audible for even you to hear.

Seulgi smiles, placing her gifts on the bench and pulls you in for another hug, holding you less tightly than before which allows your body to seek comfort of what feels like a homey warmth into the embrace this time.

"Thank you."

You freeze, the contact and scent of her so close to you, the warmness of her voice melting into your ear as she abruptly expresses her gratitude for you, giving you all kinds of jumbled-up feelings you weren't prepared to feel early this morning. "Thank you? A "Thank You?" For what?!" You reluctantly wrap your arms around Seulgi's lower back, hesitant and unsure if this action is appropriate despite her already hugging you twice now.

"Everything!" Seulgi pulls back, grazing her slender fingers down your arms and holds onto your hands, sealing them together by locking your fingers. She gazes at you with gentle eyes. "From the letters to all the thought you put into these gifts, even if you think it's not a lot, remembering all of these specific things about me—No one's ever done anything like this for me!

Like, the determination you have with how consistent you've been for the past months with writing and sending me these letters, the way you're so polite and nice and understanding with me and never fail to keep me engaged. I can always tell you're serious about what you say, and the fact you built up all of this courage to reveal yourself to me despite being this seemingly shy person tells me enough about you and I appreciate it so so much.

My friends don't even have my birthday fully locked in memory, yet, you still remembered from one conversation we had weeks ago that I don't prefer chocolate?!

I don't know.. it just makes me so happy knowing there's someone in this world with all this devotion and would actually waste the time out of their life to do all of these amazing things for me so honestly I don't think I could say thank you enough!"

Your mouth falls in shock.

You weren't expecting this reaction, at all.

She didn't even question anything or think twice about the fact that you, her confirmed secret admirer, are a girl. "I— wow.. so, uh.. do you just not care that I'm a girl?.. a girl that has a crush on you? I mean, you seemed so sure that I was a boy when talking with your friends yesterday— I mean—" You slap your hand over your mouth.

"Well, I can't really say I was expecting my secret admirer to end up being a girl.. but between you and me," she whispers in a playful tone, looking side to side and leans in closer to your ear, "I never minded the thought of it happening."

Your tense gaze at her softens just barely. "Wait.. so.. do you like girls?" you ask, quickly biting back your lip, already regretting if this is too personal of an ask.

"Well—" Seulgi squeezes your hands tighter, cutting herself off by biting her lip as she stares off in thought, looking as if she's almost uncertain about herself. You break the silence, asking her again quickly, a more greater question. "Do you like me? You know, feel any attraction?"

Seulgi looks back at you, more quiet than she was before. "I'd be lying if I said that I've ever been attracted to you because well.. we've never really talked. I don't see you often and if I do you're just so distanced away from anyone, so I've never really been given an opportunity if m being honest..

But, I can say that I can definitely see myself getting to know more about you in the future and see where things can lead to after that."

Seulgi latches her palm onto your cheek, her thumb and pointer finger gently nipping at your baby fat. "And you're just so cute! How could I not want to?"

You blush deeper at her teasing, failingly covering the lower half of your face to hide your sheepishness. "So, does this mean you'll be my Valentine?!" you ask her excitedly, your eyes gleaming when she answers with a single nod. "I would love to—"

You interrupt Seulgi before she can even complete her sentence, this time, you being the one who brings her into a tight bear hug, snuggling your head deeply into the crook of her neck, taking in her sweet scent and embracing the feeling of her body so close with yours. "Thank you! Thank you!" you squeal into her neck.

You pull back, looking away from her embarrassed from your sudden outburst, and scratch your arm. Seulgi smiles, glancing ahead of you, then reaches over to grab her gifts from the bench and looks back at you. "Come on, we should probably go inside before school starts." Seulgi holds her hand out, inviting yours to join hers. You giggle shyly, slowly creeping your hand over until it links with hers. Then you two walk off. "You know, I did these pigtails today just for you because you said it was your favorite hairstyle. How is it?"

Seulgi smiles as you two enter the double doors. "Adorable."

Your tiny mind can't believe that this is truly happening. Not only is Seulgi your valentine now, but she's proud about it, showing it off to the world as you two walk through the hallways hand in hand, although the peers around you probably wouldn't think twice about you two, most likely thinking you're just close friends like every other that's girl seen in this school holding hands with another girl.

—

You couldn't remember a single thing your teacher mentioned in discussion during first period because all you could think about was wow—this is not a dream. You and Seulgi could potentially be girlfriends by the next few days, or weeks.. or months?.. yeah, you're still not too familiar with the idea of how quickly these relationship things begin and whatnot.

You barely even survived gym class; Seulgi letting you run with her during laps, standing next to her during stretches, and you doing horribly at trying not to be obvious when you'd admire the way her body coordinated in that now blessing of a uniform as she'd bend all around.

But you really knew the beginning of this relationship or bond thing between the two of you was going to be serious once Seulgi invited you to sit with her during lunch. No— forced you to sit with her and her clique, sitting you down right beside her and keeping you in close.

All eyes fell on you as the friend group looked at you, clearly confused as to why you were all of a sudden seated there with them today, and honestly were quite judging with their stares.

All that the staring made you want to do was hide, and you didn't even dare to try sparing any eye contact with these girls. "Who's she?" one of them curiously asked Seulgi, but the hidden tone in her voice sounded very uninvitingly of you being there.

"She's Y/N, one of my new friends!" Seulgi explained to her happily. "—Well, I've never seen you hang out with her," another girl chimed in, raising her eyebrow at the both of you, clearly trying to throw some sort of shade.

"Hence, why I said new friend. We got closer today," Seulgi clarified, her forced smile flashed brightly to mask the tinge of annoyance you noticed in her voice. She was starting to get irritated at all of her friends' judgment. You bit your lip awkwardly as you looked down at your lunch tray, already embarrassed by the thick atmosphere your presence alone just being there had already caused.

Before anyone could make any more comments about you, the girl sitting on the other side of Seulgi looked down, noticing the earlier gifts you had given sticking out from the opening of Seulgi's bag. "Oh my gosh, Seulgi! Who got you these? You have a valentine?!"

Immediately, the tension died down and you were already nothing but a lost topic as everyone leaned over the table to check out the gifts sitting alongside Seulgi. Seulgi waved for everyone to sit and calm down and pulled out the gifts so the girls could see better. "Yes, guys.. I do have a valentine!" Seulgi confirmed to them with a blush, rolling her eyes playfully and covering her mouth to hide her smug smile.

"Who is it?!" one friend demanded, the others murmuring around, wanting to know the same.

You quickly stole a glance over to Seulgi's direction, staring nervously as you wondered what she was going to say to them.

Seulgi shook her head at them. "I'm not telling you!"

"Come on! Why? Is he ugly or something?"

"No— of course not!" Seulgi defended. "You guys just don't need to know everything about my life," she told them jokingly, but behind the smile, it was obvious she was serious about her words.

All of her friends in unison sighed dramatically with a roll of their eyes. "Seriously? Come on! Just give us a hint! Is he from the football team?"

"No."

"Basketball?"

"No."

"Is he in our English language class?"

"No."

"Is he hot?"

"Yes."

"Do we know him?"

"Is he in here right now?—"

"—Okay guys stop. I'm telling you right now, you're not going to guess who he is! And no matter what you do or say I'm not going to tell you anything," Seulgi stated firmly.

"Okay whatever.. just know, we're still not going to stop bothering you about this until we find out who he is."

Seulgi sighed with a dry laugh, mixing in with her friends' ticklish laughter. The girls around continued to talk with and exchange Valentine's gossip with each other while Seulgi turned over to you, seeing how noticeably uncomfortable you had gotten as you stared down at your tray, not a single bite of your food eaten.

"Can you give me your phone for a sec?" Seulgi whispered to you. You looked up, uncertain of what she would possibly need it for, but nodded anyway and handed your unlocked phone to her.

Really, you were surprised in yourself at how quickly and easily you gave her your phone, not even thinking twice about all of the bad things she could've planned on doing with it.

Not too long after, she handed you back your phone while pulling out her own. You looked at her confused until you felt a vibration a few seconds later come from your phone. You glanced down, seeing a message notification from an unfamiliar contact.

[Seulgi]

| sorry about them.. they can be a handful to deal with sometimes haha

| also sorry for lying to them about us

| i know ur upset

| i've never told any of them that i find attraction in girls so i had to continue with the thought that my valentine was a guy

| it's nothing against you i promise :(

[You]

| I know.. I get it though :):

Seulgi frowned when she heard you exhale a sigh from beside her.

[Seulgi]

| yk i wish i could've given you something for valentines if i would've known it was you behind those notes

| i would've had something so cute for you!!!

[You]

| Oh, NO no it's fine! Really

| Just seeing you enjoy my gifts is perfect enough for me :D

[Seulgi]

| :) ♡

The corner of your lips reached your cheekbones as you smiled stupidly at your phone, blushing and your heart fluttering around as you read the messages, continuously scanning over the heart emoji she sent.

You turned to face Seulgi, shyly smiling at her while she smiled back. Your attention was brought back down once you felt the buzz of your phone again.

[Seulgi]

| you should probably eat before your food gets cold

[You]

| Oh yeah..

*hearted message*

*Contact name has been changed to

"Seulgi ♡♡♡"*

Seulgi giggled softly watching as you quickly stuffed a spoonful of rice in your mouth after placing your phone down.

—

You walked to your locker at the end of the day with a joyful heart. For once, you didn't feel like you wanted to hide from the world, you were proud of yourself, strutting down the once terrifying hallways, feeling the most confident you never thought you could be.

Crazy how much Seulgi's effect can have on a person.

After grabbing your belongings you exited the building by yourself, like always, and walked down the concrete steps. While making your detour to the sidewalk, you heard your name from afar get called out which quickly stopped you. You warily turned around, startled by the sudden yell, but settled your nerves once you saw Seulgi standing by the tennis court frantically waving over for you. You could see her motion two fingers for you to come, so of course with your obedient heart, you hurriedly skipped over.

When standing in front of Seulgi, you shyly fidgeted with your fingers. "Hi.."

"Hey, Y/N! Sorry for stopping you at a busy moment like this, but I just wanted to finally give you a Valentine's gift!"

"Really?!" you gasped, glancing down at her arms and the ground, though seeing nothing. "You know, you didn't have to.. What is it?!"

"Close your eyes," she instructed and with no hesitation you did as she said, holding your hands out, expecting a physical item to end up in your possession, but something happened that you weren't expecting in the slightest. Something you had only ever daydreamed of happening.. You wanted to scream, hide, run away, but you managed for your body to accept it, feeling Seulgi's tender lips pressed against your cheek, her lipstick staining pink on you once she lifted back.

By this point, you couldn't control yourself anymore, your legs and hands were shaking violently and you had lost all ability to speak as your jaw hung open. You knew you looked like an idiot, and your face had to have been as red as a chili pepper by then, you could feel the heat emanating from your shaken body.

"S..Seulgi..." you struggled out, entirely caught off guard by her action and touched your cheeks, gently patting on the area where her lips once were.

Seulgi winked at you, finally walking off. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

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{One month later}

"I've never had a sleepover before," you admit quietly as you enter Seulgi's bedroom, looking around in awe, admiring the spacious room.

"Seriously? Never?!" Seulgi asks surprised, closing and locking the door behind her. You shake your head sadly and place your night bag near her bed.

"Well then," Seulgi starts, "I guess I'll just have to make this the best, most unforgettable sleepover you'll ever have!" She grabs you from the waist, pulling you in close to her side, and you bubble a coy laugh at the swift movement of her gesture, still not used to being this touchy with anyone. "So uh, what do people usually do at sleepovers? Is it like what the movies show?"

Seulgi shrugs. "I mean, guess they can be like that sometimes. You know, realistically it's usually more tamed down than the movies, but tonight we can just do what you want!"

"Oh, okay," you mumble with a nod, holding your thumb up.

"So, what do you wanna do?"

"I don't know.." you mumble awkwardly, "I guess we could watch a movie?.. People do that at sleepovers, right?" you suggest, your voice rising more high-pitched the more unsure you start to sound. Seulgi chuckles, seeing your lack of experience shine through. "Of course they do!" Seulgi turns on her TV and once on hands you the remote. "You can choose the movie."

"Oh uh, I'm not really that good at choosing stuff.." you mutter, hesitantly taking the remote.

"Don't worry, I'll watch whatever you put on!"

You nod with that and scroll through the catalog until you click on a random comedy movie that you thought was something Seulgi would enjoy. "Do you want anything to eat or snack on?" Seulgi asks as she turns off the light and gets ready to exit the room while you make yourself comfortable in her bed. You shake your head. "You sure?" She asks again and you nod reassuringly, although you are, in fact, hungry.

Seulgi arrives back as quickly as she exits the room, not wanting to leave her guest on her own for too long, and returns with a small carton of strawberry ice cream, your personal favorite, though she doesn't know.

Seulgi scoots next to you on the bed. "You readyy?" she smirks, wiggling her eyebrows playfully to spark your excitement. "Yup!" you reply, trying to mimic her brow movements to match her energy which only causes her to laugh more.

As the movie plays, you sneak glances over in Seulgi's direction from time to time, eying the ice cream, watching as the amount gradually gets smaller. Your glances don't go unnoticed once Seulgi notices your gaze in the corner of her eye and turns to you with a smirk. "Whatcha looking at?" she teases.

You quickly look away embarrassed and put your focus back on the movie, ignoring her question.

"You want some, don't you? Don't worry, you can have some if you'd like!" Seulgi holds her hand out, offering you the carton. You gladly take the ice cream, but once you pull out the spoon, you then realize it's the same spoon she'd been eating off of this entire time. Are you supposed to use it? Is this how friends share things at sleepovers? Did she just forget to give you a different spoon? You hold up the spoon, tilting your head at Seulgi.

"Oh sorry, did you want your own?"

Oh, so it was intentional.

You quickly shake your head at her. "Oh— uh.. no— no! It's good!" You use the used spoon to scoop up the ice cream and shakily place it in your mouth.

This is technically like a kiss, right, you thought. Did you just kiss Seulgi? Or maybe you're just thinking too much into it since you've never had any friends to live the experience of sharing food with before.

After swallowing your spoonful, Seulgi grabs the spoon from you, taking another scoop for herself.

For the next ten minutes of the movie, you and Seulgi take turns eating from the tub, somehow, during the middle of it, creating a sort of silent competition of who could successfully get the final scoop.

You won, afterward teasing and poking fun at Seulgi for being too slow. You two laughed it off, but as it calmed down, Seulgi just stared at you, silently, and continued to do so for a good couple of seconds. The longer she looked at you, the more you started to get self-conscious and ran back to your usual overthinking.

"What? What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?" you ask nervously, wondering if she'd been staring at excess ice cream stuck to the corners of your mouth or if what you had thought you both knew was an just innocent game had instead gotten her upset.

"Nothing, you're just really pretty."

What?

Your brain doesn't want to believe her words because after all, you probably do have leftover ice cream sitting on your face. Your hair's messily tied up, you still have on those big ass nerdy glasses.. you're literally wearing my little pony pajamas for goodness sake!

Overall in conclusion, right now you know you're just not attractive in the slightest bit, yet.. you just couldn't help yourself from blushing like a loser and covering your cheeks from the compliment.

Seulgi has called you "cute" and "adorable" many times during the last few weeks, and they definitely flattered you, yes, but this compliment was something new, something you never thought you'd hear from anyone's mouth seriously besides your mother. And in honesty, this was something your fragile mind had been needing to hear for a long time, especially in a moment like this where you're nothing but being and looking like your true self.

"N-No! You're pretty!— I mean— Aaggh!" You grab one of Seulgi's fluffy pillows and stuff your head into it, hiding your cherry-red face. Seulgi giggles at your reaction and leans in to hug you. "Stop, you're always so cute when you react like this!"

The force of her hug somehow manages to push you two down to your backs, her arms still wrapped around you and her leg slightly resting on top of yours. Seulgi pulls the pillow away, allowing your burning face to look at her, all flustered and shy of embarrassment. She smiles down at you and you giggle shyly, wanting to cover your face once more.

Soon, the embarrassment wears off, but now you and Seulgi just remain staring at each other silently. You don't even know why though, but you do know you sure don't want to look away. You can't. It's like there's a force keeping you like this.

Apparently, that force didn't want to just stop at eye contact because before you knew it, Seulgi's lips were pressed softly against yours.

Your foggy mind quickly wakes up, your eyes going wide as you look across at Seulgi whose eyes are shut closed, feeling deep into the kiss. You internally panic, not knowing how to react and look side to side now with so many new confusing thoughts and feelings as your lips mindlessly move in sync with hers.

Oh my gosh— your first kiss and it's with Seulgi.. Seulgi?!

You slightly squeal when you feel Seulgi's lips part and her tongue seek out to find yours. You don't what in the world to do, your virgin lips have never made out with anyone before, so you just try to copy what you feel her doing, mimicking the way her tongue rolls with yours while still looking around the dark room frantically. After a few seconds, you tense down and get used to this feeling, finally closing your eyes and allowing yourself to ease into the kiss.

You don't want this to stop, you want to taste the sweet strawberry coated all in her mouth some more, but after what feels like an eternity, yet somehow not long enough, you two softly pull back from the kiss, fluttering your eyes open and looking right into hers. You two can't even say anything to each other, Seulgi's face now blushing a deep red like yours.

As if it was possible, you were gaining even deeper feelings for Seulgi.. and with the way her eyes are admiring, you can tell she's starting to feel them too.

Without a second thought or word, you quickly dig into your pajama shorts pocket, pulling out a folded paper. You were going to give this to Seulgi the next day, having already made an entire plan beforehand for how you originally were going to use it, but after this kiss something clicked something in you, making you realize you had to do this action quickly because at this point, there was no room in your heart to wait any longer for something you so desperately desired.

Seulgi looks down, feeling the note placed in her hand, you continuing to stay silent.

You would normally be nervous at a moment like this, but the determination you feel drastically overweighs those feelings as you watch her unfold and read the note.

Will you be my G♡rlfr♡end, Kang Seulgi?

— Candy ♡

Seulgi looks at you with a blank expression, suddenly confusing you when she hops off the bed to pick up her school bag without saying a word. She sits back beside you, pulls out a pen, and takes the note.

You watch as she flips it over to the blank side and starts writing on it. Then with a smile, she hands it back to you.

It's about time you'd ask :)

— Candy's girlfriend

LOL hope you guys are satisfied with this ending sorry to keep you so suspenseful for so long

— Seulgiwifee ໒꒰ྀི♡˵ᴗ͈ . ᴗ͈ ꒱ྀི১

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