#and all I’m left holding is an empty sleeve

[kaynanarie]

Eyes of Gold (Part 8)

(A WukongxReader story inspired by Beauty and the Beast and Lutung Kasarung.) (First) (Prev)

            Shihou was eerily quiet all the way back to the mountain. You snuck glances at him but didn’t speak, offput by his thunderous mood.

             His expression was stony and cold, the clench at his jaw pulling his mouth into a tight frown. Glowing, golden eyes were narrowed in a fierce glare you didn’t want turned on you. His tail lashed with each step and you could feel his fur bristling everywhere you touched. The hands holding you were gentle but firm, huddling you close as he hurried through the rain.

            The brisk pace had you back at the palace in no time, finding shelter from the storm within the stone walls. You tucked your face against Shihou’s shoulder to avoid the inquisitive stares of the other monkeys. Shihou either didn’t notice or didn’t care, marching through the halls and only stopping once he reached your room.

            He shouldered his way inside and gently sat you on the edge of the bed; the rainwater soaking the covers and dripping onto the floor went unnoticed. The chill of the room seeped into your wet clothes, leaving you shivering without his warmth. Careful hands brushed the tattered remains of your sleeve away to examine your arm. Shihou’s face darken further as he studied your injury.

            “I’ll be right back,” he finally spoke, a rumble in his quiet word. Before you could react, he was already across the room, briefly pausing in the doorway. “You should change into something dry,” he said, the tone too stern to be a passing suggestion. Then he was gone, only the tip of his tail vanishing out the door before it clicked shut.

            In the silence of the empty room, you let out a shaky sigh. Between the close call with the wolves and the tense trip back, you were exhausted but relieved to be in the safety of the mountain once more.

            A shudder danced down your spine and prickled over your skin. The palace walls were strong and sturdy but offered little in the way of warmth. Slow and weary, you stood and shuffled to the wardrobe. The fumbling of your numb fingers managed to discarded your torn clothes in a wet pile. A clean robe was quickly tugged on and wrapped snuggly around you. Even with loose sleeves, the sting of material against raw skin left you wincing with each movement.

            You retreated back to the bed, curling up under dry blankets as wind and rain lashed against the window. While you waited, your mind wandered back to Shihou.

            In the short time you had known him, you had seen many different moods from your monkey friend. Playful, curious, mischievous, occasionally affronted, but endlessly kind. Never had you seen him radiate such rage. It was a chilling reminder that despite his friendly nature, Shihou was still a demon and very dangerous.  

            But your trust in him was unwavering. If anything, his fierce reaction made you more thankful for his protection.

            Your thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock at the door.

            “Come in!” you said, voice barely above a rasped whisper.

            Shihou stepped inside, dressed in dry robes and carrying a tray. On it were crushed plants, towels, bowls, and a roll of bandages. He sat next to you, balancing the medical kit with one hand while the other settled your arm across his lap. With the sleeve rolled out of the way, you hazard a glance at your injuries for the first time.

            Four scratches ran parallel across your forearm. They weren’t long or deep, just the raw red of barely broken skin. Without a word, Shihou went to work, gently cleaning the wounds and covering them with stinging poultice.

            “Shihou?” you called to him quietly. He didn’t respond, completely focused as he wrapped your arm from elbow to wrist. “Shihou, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”

            With the bandage snuggly in place, Shihou set your arm down. “You shouldn’t have left the village,” he finally spoke. It was quiet, rough, and growled between clenched teeth.

            “I was with others, I thought it was safe,” you argued, shifting your arm to see his handy work. “Besides, it’s not that bad. See? Barely a scratch.”

            “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt at all!”

            The shout rang around the room but it wasn’t anger you heard in his words. Panic, fear, and guilt echoed off stone and filled the tense air between you. Shihou’s whole body slumped with a weary sigh, burying his face in his hands to calm himself.

            “A wolf pack was reported in the area last night,” he explained, lift his head enough to study the far wall. “Our meeting was to arrange patrols at the borders; we didn’t know they were already on the mountain. When we heard there was an attack and I couldn’t find you, I feared the worst.” He glanced at your arm, reaching out to ghost a touch over the bandage. “I should have been there to protect you. I’m sorry.”

            You laid a comforting hand over his, smoothing down the bristled fur. “But you did protect me. I’m still here.”

            “I was almost too late!” Gentle hands suddenly framed your face, forcing you to meet Shihou’s eyes. They were serious but pleading, the gold bright with worry. “Please, Peaches. Promise me you’ll be more careful.”

            “I’ll try,” you offered, leaning into his delicate hold. “But what if there’s more of them? I don’t want you to get hurt fighting them off.”

            He chuckled at your concern, his mood lightening just a bit. “I can handle a few weakling wolves. Their leader wasn’t a challenge and the rest will go into hiding without him around.”

            The information made you perk up. The more you pondered it, the less it made sense.

            “Wait, you took out the leader? I thought Monkey King did.”

            Shihou tilted his head with a frown. “What makes you say that?”

            “One of the wolves mentioned not hurting any of the monkey ‘subjects’ so I assumed…” Thinking back only brought flashes of sharp, sneering grins and eerie howls. You flinched, shaking your head at the too-fresh memories. “Never mind, I must have misheard. I’m probably too tired to remember properly, anyways.”

            Guilt shadowed Shihou's eyes when he looked away. “Why don’t you get some rest; we can talk about it later, okay?”

            When he stood, a wave of panic trembled you to the core. “Wait!” you yelped, latching onto his arm. Shihou froze, glancing down at you but not pulling away. It was childish and embarrassing but you refused to let go. “Will you…stay with me? I really don’t want to be alone.”

            Golden eyes widened in surprise but a slow nod calmed your nerves. “Sure.” He pulled the covers over you before sitting again, keeping his hand on your shoulder as a reassuring weight. Unfortunately, he felt each shiver and shake as you huddled under the blankets. “Are you cold?”

            “A little,” you admitted through chattering teeth.

            “Alright. Scoot over, Peaches.” Shihou slid under the blankets, strong arms quickly wrapping you in a warm hug. His fur was still damp under his robes but his body heat chased the chill from your bones. When you snuggled against his chest, a quiet chuckle rumbled under your ear. “Better?”

            You nodded, hiding the blush burning your cheeks. “Thank you, Shihou.”

            “Anytime,” he hummed as he cuddled you closer. Your head was tucked under his chin while his tail looped itself around your ankle. He kept a gentle grip on your injured arm, fingers rubbing soothing circles against your wrist.

            The rage of the storm was slowly drowned out by quiet purrs and the steady rhythm of Shihou’s heartbeat. Safe, warm, and perfectly content, you were lulled to peaceful sleep in his arms.

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Hurt/comfort for the soul! This chapter wasn't planned but felt necessary. Shihou is both soft and protective and all the love he gets makes me so happy!

Thank you so much for reading! Happy New Year!

[bardace]

Um. This was supposed to be a sketch

reference under cut because I’m Normal about this utena official art

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, dubcon, coercion, bullying

fem reader

Your bully says he’s always been curious about what it’s like to fuck a geeky good girl like you—and that he’ll leave you if you let him have a taste.

You knew he was probably mostly joking when he offered… but you were sick and tired and perhaps a little desperate for the chance of him finally leaving you alone—so you balled your fists within his shirt, dragged him inside an empty classroom, and told him he could do whatever he wanted.

You don’t know who was more surprised.

He never knew you to be so brazen—but it’s not like you’re some blushing virgin, either.

You have experience. However, most of that experience is with nicer guys… not someone like him…

It’s not like you expected him to go easy on you, but still…

You bruise against the desk he has you bent over on—dewy-faced and panting, lying cheek-down in your own drool as he fucks full-chested moans right out of you. He snickers when your thighs shake, whistling with a grin when feeling your tight cunt flutter around him—slick dripping to the floor in a little puddle.

“You’re so wet it’s embarrassing.” He laughs.

He’s got your arms tussled behind your back, using your shirt as bindings—having balled your skirt up around your waist in two tight fists, knuckles white while using it to keep you still as he pounds into you with a mean snap of his hips. 

Your heart drops when you hear a rip. A second time when, you feel his movements still, and a thick warmth starts to fill you.

“Ah—fuck—don’t squeeze so tight—I’m ‘bout to—” He grunts, but it’s already too late once he pulls out.

Panting heavily as his cock drips with the last drop—hunched over—his eyes fall to your glossy cunt, half-mast while staring at the way his cum slowly leaks out of the still-fluttering little hole. 

He feels a cute-aggressive urge to slap it but doesn’t want to get his hand all sticky.

He pulls his pants up instead, only bothering to button his shirt up halfway, tie hanging loosely around his neck. Anyone with eyes could guess what he’d been doing with his sweaty hair and that flushed look on his face.

And yet he starts leaving without a care or a word. 

Already halfway out the door before you get your wits back.

“No—wait!” You warble, unknotting your sleeves to wrap your shirt around you. “You can’t leave me like this—my skirt…” You hold the tattered piece up for him to see, showing him the tear he’d made, rendering it unwearable.

His hand is still on the doorknob, only bothering to acknowledge you with a jaded look over his shoulder. “How’s that my problem?”

Your brows cinch that pitiful way it always does. That cute way that has his gut bubble and fizz. “Please…” You plead, and it’s almost enough to make his cock perk up again. “Just bring me a skirt from lost and found… please?”

He sighs—the door at his back as he leans against it with arms folded upon his chest. “Tch—and what's in it for me?”

You nibble your lip in thought—but you already know the answer. 

“I’ll be better at it next time—just... please?”

“Hm…” He hums in thought, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips, tugged as if your words had pulled it with string. “Wait here, I’ll be back.”

The door closed with a click, and you were left in the classroom alone.

A few minutes passed. You doubted his return. 

You could always call a friend… but you didn’t want to get anyone into any trouble—calling them when they’re in class. Also, how would you even explain it to them? What type of person skips class to have sex in an empty classroom? Not to mention, they’d ask who you’d done it with—and there was just no way you could tell them. It’d be too embarrassing—you might just die—and if anyone else ever found out, he’d more likely kill you himself.

Well… suppose you could always make the run to Lost and Found yourself. The hallways should be mostly empty at this hour, but there’s really no guarantee. 

In the end, the thought of someone catching you in cum-soaked panties makes you hold onto all hope that your bully would return as he’d said.

And fifteen minutes later, he does. Black school skirt in one hand and strawberry milk in the other. Seemed he’d taken the time to stop at a vending machine.

But you don’t care. Breathing out a sigh of relief—gratitude on your lips as you leap over to him. “Thank you—” 

You eagerly accept the skirt—putting it on just as quickly.

He leans back against the door again, sipping his carton while watching you fall still with dismay. Humored at the pout that takes your lips as you look up at him with those pitiful doe-eyes.

“This is too short…”

He hides his smile with a tilt of his head. “Oh?” He grabs his jaw and pretends to assess your bottom half with focus. “Hmm… turn around, lemme see.”

You listen trustingly—as though you actually believe he cares. It almost makes him laugh out loud at how fucking gullible you are. But he keeps his act tight. Humming at the sight of the skirt only barely covering the crease of your cute ass.

“You’re right—something’s off.” He admits. 

You look back at him just in time to see his smirk before he grabs you. 

Keeping you still with an arm wrapped around your waist, he tips you over and grabs your panties—pulling them despite your body's protests as you wiggle in his hold. You cry as the fabric wedges up between your asscheeks, kicking your legs behind you until feeling it rip.

“There you go…” He coos while letting go of you, twirling the torn string in his hand. “Now it fits perfectly.”

He chuckles at the pretty tears clumped upon your lashes as you look at him with your lip tucked between your teeth until you finally get the grit to say what’s on the tip of your tongue.

“You’re an asshole.”

He sneers with a smile and bags your panties in his pocket—then turns around and opens the door. Leaving you worse off than before.

“Never said otherwise, buttercup.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Shigaraki, Hawks, Shinso, Kirishima

JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Toji

DS – Akaza, Sanemi

HQ – Kuro, Miya twins

[luveline]

How about ploy marauders going to a party and Sirius promised to do readers make up, but is late so the other two are making an attempt. Sure they might know how to do Sirius's messy style, but do they know big dramatic styles? Can James do a perfect wing?

<3 fem, 1k

“Can you stay still?” Remus asks, turning your face a half inch where it’s held in his hand. 

“Can James stop kissing me?” you ask. 

James pulls his face from the curve of your neck, the warmth of his lips lingering on your skin. “Sorry, are you busy?” 

“You’re supposed to be helping.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t enjoying yourself.” 

You smile. Remus rubs the softest curve under your eye with his thumb, the tip of his tongue sticking out between his lips. He doesn’t know he’s doing it, concentrating instead on your face and the wetness of your makeup where it’s beginning to sink in. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he sighs. 

“You know better than I do,” James says. 

You don’t know a thing about it, that’s why you’d arranged for Sirius to do your makeup tonight before Marl’s birthday bash, but where is your awful boyfriend? Late, decidedly unavailable for makeup-ing. 

“You’ve done his mascara a thousand times,” James argues with Remus. 

“Yes, but Sirius has never asked me to do his blush.” Remus’ hand moves to the side of your face. “You are lovely, though. I think using only a little of everything is working in our favour.” 

“Sirius only lets him do mascara because he already has nice eyelashes,” you worry. It won’t matter if Remus messes up or doesn’t get close enough to the root. 

“Yes, and because he likes it when Remus holds his face like that,” James points out, eyeing Remus’ hand where it stays at your cheek. Remus has long fingers, ever-so slightly thick with two golden rings that kiss your chin as he lets his hand fall, and he’s always gentle. 

“James, I’m tapping out.” 

James pretends to roll up sleeves he isn’t wearing, your bulkiest boyfriend in a short-sleeved t-shirt that showcases the lean muscle of his forearms, the not so lean ridges of his biceps. They tense as he sits up, his knee jabbing yours, the bed creaking dangerously beneath your angled weight. “What’s there left to do? She’s gorgeous.” 

“What did you want?” Remus asks you. 

“Uh, I wanted, you know…” You sound ridiculously shy. You wish you could just do all of this faff by yourself rather than force their attention, but neither boy seems annoyed. “He does that smudgey eyeliner, it makes my eyes look bigger. And lipgloss, but I can do that myself.” 

“Are you kidding? That’s the best part,” James says. He gives you a smile confident enough to reassure you and handsome enough to make you shy from his touch all over again. “Pass me the black pencil, Remus. I’ve got this.” 

James does not got this, his expression melding from happy, adoring, to perturbed, and then annoyed. “Aw, I’ve fucked it.” 

Remus shakes his head vehemently. “You haven’t! We just need a wet wipe.” 

They search the room for Sirius’ wet wipes and come up empty-handed. A towel is wetted and taken carefully to your eyes instead, cold and rough on your eyelids. 

“Be gentler,” Remus whispers. 

James is practically atop you know, your chin tilted up to his hand. “Sorry,” he whispers in turn, then to you solely, “‘m I hurting you?” 

“No.” You’re whispering too. It feels appropriate; they’re both very close to you, and this movement might fix or ruin your makeup with the party’s start time drawing ever closer. 

“I think I’ve fixed it,” James says, taking the pencil up again, the nib soft as it rolls over the corner of your eye. “Sirius can perfect it in the car, right?” 

“I thought you were good at everything?” you ask. 

James turns your face up impossibly higher, craning his head down for a peck. “Yes,” he whispers severely, “I’m good at everything. But Sirius is usually better. Quick, let’s find your lipgloss before we’re late.” 

Remus tries to tell James that it isn’t true, a serious conversation at a bad time, and James won’t listen to a word of it. They quibble over who’s doing your lipgloss, bathe you in compliments when they’re done —aw, dove, you look so cute, and cute? she looks perfect— then suddenly an abrupt beep is sounding outside. The three of you scramble into your jackets and down the stairs, meeting Sirius where he leans against the car. He throws the keys to Remus, ushering you into the backseat with him for some last minute clean up. 

“Hey, they’ve done a good job,” he praises, another hand on your face to turn it up kindly to the light. “Did you bring your lipgloss?”  

You nod quickly and dig for it in your jacket. 

“What!” James says from the front, turning in the passenger seat to complain. “That’s the one thing we did perfectly.” 

The car starts. Remus laughs to himself behind the steering wheel. 

“Did I say otherwise?” Sirius asks, letting his fingers curve toward the back of your neck. Pale in the light, eyes lit with something funny you’ve yet to hear, he dips in close to you and talks quietly, “I’m sorry, I promised I’d do your makeup for the party. But you’ve all done well without me, you look perfect, especially your lips.” 

“Then what did you want it for?” you ask, confused, your seat belt pulling as Sirius encourages you forward. 

“To reapply.” He taps your neck with a fingertip. “Spare a kiss? I promise I’ll fix any mess.” 

Commotion from the front seat.

“James–” Remus warns. 

“What? I want to watch.” 

“Freak,” Sirius says lovingly. 

“How am I a freak? She’s my girlfriend, you’re my boyfriend, and you’re doing that voice like you’re gonna lay her down in the back seat.” 

“James.” 

—

requests r open!! pls think about reblogging if you enjoyed, I hope u did either way!!!

[freedomfireflies]

Whiplash*

Summary: The second part to Knockout*

The one where Harry does something dangerous in the shadows, and he'll do anything to keep you out of it.

Word Count: 9.4k (again...so sorry)

Content Warning: 18+, smut, mentions of violence, slight blood kink, slight pain kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

There’s no protocol for what to do when a handsome stranger you hardly know (but occasionally fool around with), stops showing up at your diner. 

You stare at his booth for far longer than you should. Willing him to appear. To walk through the door and make things right. Ease this ache in your chest.

You have no way to contact him. You don’t know his last name, or his phone number, or his address. You don’t even know his license plate number. He’s a ghost to you. More than a stranger but less than a friend.

You give him a few more minutes to appear. Maybe there was traffic. Or maybe he forgot you were working tonight.

But soon, a few minutes turns into an hour, and booth 505 remains empty.

So, you put the idea of him to bed. Carrying on with your shift while wearing your heavy heart on your sleeve. Perhaps he’s gotten bored with you. Or perhaps he’s found other ways to occupy his nights.

You almost think you’d prefer this alternative to the other. The one where he’s not here because he’s not…here. That wherever he goes and whatever he does has finally caught up to him.

It makes your stomach wrench to imagine, and you forcibly shove the thought free before returning your attention to your newest pie.

Peach. Another one of Harry’s favorites.

3 a.m. has never felt so liberating. Bringing you the perfect escape as you clock out and rush through the doors for the parking lot. Eager to rid yourself of this wretched night and head back to your apartment to worry about your stranger in peace.

You step out into the cold morning air and pull your jacket a bit tighter around your frame. Exhaling a shaky breath that you can see dance across the dimly lit space.

There are only two other cars over by the right side of the building, and much to your continued dismay, you notice that Harry’s still isn’t one of them. 

So, with a sinking stomach, you reach into your pocket for your apartment keys, and begin walking for the subway. Yet right as round the corner of the diner, you notice something move within the shadows just beside you.

With a jump, you gasp, and spin around on your heel with your keys raised and aimed at the ready.

The figure that emerges sends your heart straight into your throat.

“Harry?” You drop your arm and move closer for a better look. “What…what…?”

The battered and bruised man offers you a tired smile that hardly reaches his lips. “Hi, Cherry.”

He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. There’s a nasty slash going down his left eyebrow, a dark bruise forming along his jaw, and blood dripping down his arm from beneath his sleeve onto the pavement below.

You search for the right words – for any words at all – but before you can, he’s stumbling forward. Just barely able to catch himself before he collapses onto the ground.

With another gasp, you surge forward, quickly taking hold of his shoulders in order to keep him upright. “Harry—”

“M’okay,” he murmurs, and you can hardly hear him. As if he barely has the strength to speak. “I’m fine. I promise—”

“Harry,” you repeat for a third time, almost incredulously. “You…this is not fine. You’re…what happened?”

Even before he shakes his head, you know he won’t truly answer. “Nothing. S’just a little worse this time, but I’m okay. Really.”

You feel sick. Sick that he’s so hurt, sick that you can’t help him, and sick because you don’t understand who does this to him. “Okay, we…we need to get you to a hospital, we need to get you some help—”

“No.” His head shakes again, a bit more insistently. “No, I can’t go to a hospital. I just…I had to see you.”

You feel your throat constrict. “What?”

His hand lifts, palm finding your jaw until he can softly caress your cheek. And you feel a streak of blood smear across your skin from where his thumb brushes at your chin. 

“I had to see you,” he repeats softly. “Had to make sure you were all right. M’so sorry I wasn’t here earlier.”

You want to bury yourself in his arms. Want to kiss him, and hold him, and fix him. Make everything better again.

“It’s okay,” you nearly whimper. Pushing yourself into his touch. “I’m just really worried about you.”

The smirk grows. “I’m all right. I’ll go home, take some pain pills, and be right as rain by tomorrow. Really.”

 You’re hardly convinced. “Harry—"

“I’m all right,” he insists, dipping down to press his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to worry about me, Cher. S’not the first time this has happened, and it won’t be the last. I’ll be okay. I just wanted to see you.”

And you don’t believe him. You don’t even think he believes him. But he smiles at you as though he wants to. As though he wants to offer you any sort of consolation for his pain. To make this better…for you.

You allow him to hold you a moment longer before you pull back and declare, “I’ll help.”

His brows pinch together. “What?”

“I’ll help. I’ll go with you. Make sure you’re okay, and…and help you clean up.”

His expression softens, but he sighs heavily. “Baby, I can’t…I can’t ask you to do that—”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“I know, s’just…” He holds your cheeks in both hands now. Keeping you in his sights. “I made a rule with myself. A promise that I wouldn’t drag you down with me. That I’d make sure you were okay, and that you’d never hurt because of me.”

The pit in your stomach deepens, but you merely straighten up. “How could this hurt me? I just want to help.”

“I know, sweet girl,” he breathes. “But letting you come with me means breaking my rule. And I can’t do that. I won’t.”

You wonder what he means. You wonder if you really want to know.

“Then you come with me,” you decide. “You can come back to my apartment, and I can make sure you’re all right.”

Another heavy exhale, but you can tell he’s touched. “Cherry—”

“I mean it. You’re not…Harry, I’m really worried about you. You can hardly stand and you’re bleeding from more places than one. You could have really hurt yourself and you shouldn’t be alone. I won’t let you be alone right now.”

He considers this. “Cherry, I’m trying to protect you—”

“And I’m trying to protect you, too,” you argue firmly, but with a persuasive grin. “Please let me.”

There’s a long lull of silence, those gentle green eyes studying you closely. He looks so very tired and wrought with grief. Yet when he sees you…his entire world seems to change. Lighting up about as bright as the moon.

“Okay,” he finally agrees. “Okay, we’ll go. I trust you.”

I trust you. Three little words that have never sounded so good and you can’t help but push up onto your toes to kiss him as gingerly as you can.

“Okay, where’s your car?” you ask, letting go in order to look around. “My apartment isn't too far, so I can drive until we—”

“No.”

“What?”

He squeezes onto your wrist almost pointedly. “No, we can’t…can’t take my car. S’not safe.”

“Oh…” Your lashes flutter. “All right. We…we can take the subway. I was going to take it anyway because a friend of mine is borrowing my car for the night, but…that can work. We can make that work.”

He says nothing, instead swaying a bit from the loss of blood as you rush to take hold of him once more.

“All right, okay. You’re okay,” you murmur softly. “Just hold on, okay? It’s only a few stops to my place, and we’ll be there in under twenty minutes.”

He nods weakly in response, and you’re quick to pull his arm around your shoulders in order to help guide him through the parking lot.

He seems grateful for this hold on you. Smirking to himself before leaning over to press his lips to your temple. Keeping you tight against his chest as though the two of you are merely going for a stroll in the park. 

Like a real couple.

You cling to his stained hoodie and help lead him toward the subway station. Making sure that you don’t walk too fast (or too slow) in order to get him there in one piece.

You don’t talk much – although there’s so much you want to say – but you can tell he’s pleased. Grateful to be in your company, even despite the circumstances. 

Once the train arrives, you both slip through the doors, and take a seat near the exit. You push your shoulder into his and he pushes his shoulder into yours. Leaning against each other almost contently and smiling to yourselves as the rest of the crowd saunters on.

The subway is relatively empty for this time of night. Or rather, early morning. And you’re more than all right with that. It means less people to stare at the bloody, bruised man dripping onto the train floor. 

He doesn’t notice the odd looks. He doesn’t seem to notice anything but you, instead staring down at where your fingers are tracing his. The way they run tenderly over the cracked skin across his knuckles before intertwining together.

He hums contently, lips stretching into a gentle grin.

You’re at your stop only fifteen minutes later, practically leaping onto your feet in a rush to get him out.

He seems to have a bit more energy now, perhaps from being able to rest for as long as he did. But he still holds onto you as tightly as he can while you walk along the sidewalk.

And you can’t help but let him.

“My apartment might be a little messy,” you attempt to preface as you head inside the tall building. “I was going to clean it before I left, but something…came up.”

He nods understandingly before glancing over the side of your profile. “Are you all right?”

“Am I all right?” you tease, gesturing toward him.

He smirks, but that curious look doesn’t slip. “Are you?”

You press the elevator button with one hand and squeeze his palm in the other. “I will be once you are.”

Apartment 505 is on the left side of the building, just beside the stairwell. It gives you a perfect view of the city, and you spend most of your days out on the stairwell watching the sun rise and set.

There’s a wreath on your door, hanging just over the number, and your stranger smiles when he sees it. Seemingly amused by the bright flowers and dainty bow that stands out amidst the dark grey paint.

After fumbling with your keys, you finally manage to get you both inside. Exhaling a deep breath and tossing your things toward the coffee table.

“Lock it,” he murmurs just as you’re moving for the kitchen.

“What?”

“The door. Lock it,” he says, almost firmly while nodding toward the handle. “Right now.”

A tad surprised by the resolute tone of voice, you nod, and turn around to oblige. Making sure the lock is turned and the door is secure before glancing over for his approval.

“Good girl,” he mumbles. “I want you to always lock it when you come in, all right? Always.”

“Okay,” you agree softly, returning to him. “I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” you whisper, raising your hand to his face to press a kiss to his cheek. “Can you let me take care of you now?”

He seems to chuckle as he allows you to stroke his jaw. Settling into your gentle touch before nodding.

Pleased, you take his hand, and lead him toward your small bathroom. Sitting him on the edge of the bathtub in order to get a better look.

But the moment you see each cut and scrape beneath the bright, fluorescent light, there’s a hitch in your breath. Overwhelming you with sorrow and anguish at the sight of him. 

“Harry,” you exhale, almost unintentionally. 

His lashes flutter as he smiles, reaching out to lightly tug on your waitressing dress. “M’okay, Cherry. Really.”

He’s not okay, and you both know it. “I’ll…I’ll need to clean them first. Where…how many are there?”

A beat while he thinks. “There’s a couple on my chest. Plus, the one on my eye, and, you know, my hands.”

You nod, and vaguely gesture toward him, willing yourself not to shake. “Can…may I take off your hoodie? So I can check?”

The corner of his mouth curls up and he nods as well, reaching for the collar of his sweatshirt in order to begin peeling it off his torso.

You attempt to help, making sure he can get his arms through without having to bend too far or cause any strain to the injuries.

But once it’s off, you feel your stomach twist.

 His skin is littered with scars, scrapes, and fresh bruises. A variety of colors that range from light pink to an unsettling yellow. Blood is smeared across tattoos you didn’t even know he had, and there’s a rather nasty gash along the side of his ribcage. 

You hear yourself gasp, and he quickly tugs on your hem again. “Cher—”

However, you brush his hand away and move closer, running the tips of your fingers along his shoulder and down his sternum. Trailing each inch of stained skin until you reach his heart.

“Harry…” you say again.

He takes hold of your wrist and offers you a look of remorse. “I know.”

You aren’t sure you have the strength to ask, instead swallowing thickly as you pull back, and turn around. Searching through your cupboards for everything you’ll need.

He watches you closely, and it seems your reaction causes him more pain than anything else. It’s a look you know well. One where he’s desperate to comfort you, and you wish you could let him.

You rejoin his side with bandages, rubbing alcohol, and a sterilized needle with thread. “All right, I have to clean them first, and then…”

His eyes flick down to the suturing supplies with a smirk. “Ah.”

You grimace. “It’ll probably hurt.”

To your surprise, he shrugs. “No worse than what gave me the cut, I imagine.”

You hum to yourself and move for the alcohol. “And this might sting.”

“Mm. I’m counting on it.”

Dipping a cloth into the potent liquid, you begin to dab at each open cut that’s painted along his body. Making sure to be as gentle as you can and avoid any potential infections.

He tenses every few moments, jaw ticking as he takes steady, even breaths. But he makes no noise of complaint, nor does he flinch away from your touch. Almost leaning into it as you move between each scratch.

“How’s that?” you whisper, glancing over his face curiously before moving for the cut on his brow. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, red-rimmed eyes trained on you. Seeming to study you while you study his injury. “M’okay. Are you?”

You smile. “Yeah. Don’t like hurting you, though.”

“You’re not. Could never.”

“Hope you’re right.”

You smooth back the dark hairs of his eyebrow as gingerly as you can before reaching for the medical tape. Cutting the strips to the right length, you place a couple over the cut, and step back to observe.

“All right,” you declare. “Now, um…now I’ll need to…”

You both look toward his stomach where the worst gash lies, and he nods. “Where do you want me?”

“Just…there. Is fine.” You collect the needle and thread before crouching down near him in order to get closer. “It shouldn’t take too long. Be over before you know it.”

“All right.” He’s oddly calm, and for some reason, it makes you nervous. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been stitched, Cherry. I’ll be all right.”

 “I can see that,” you mumble to yourself, reaching now for his abdomen. “Just…tell me if it hurts too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

With a deep breath, you pinch his skin between your fingers, and bring the tip of the needle closer. Piercing the skin and threading it through slowly and with great precision.

He looks down, watching for a moment almost as though fascinated. “You’re really good at that.”

You offer a tight-lipped smile. “Should hope so. Spent three years learning how to do it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. My, uh…my parents really wanted me to pursue a career in the medical field,” you explain as you continue working your way down. “And I thought being a nurse would be good because I liked the idea of helping people. And I liked learning about the body and how to heal it.”

His eyes remain on you.

“Anyway, it didn’t…I didn’t have a great experience in medical school,” you continue. “And it made me realize that it wasn’t what I really wanted to do. I wanted to…help people through food, I guess. Which probably sounds silly—”

“No,” he says, almost immediately. “No, it doesn’t.”

You smile a bit bigger. “Well, my parents were pretty pissed when I dropped out. Which makes sense, since they were the ones paying for it. But…they told me that if I wanted to pursue baking, I’d have to do that on my own. Financially, anyway. Hence all the late shifts at the diner.”

His brows furrow together almost sternly.

“And I don’t mind it. I really like working there. I like my coworkers, I like the people I meet.” You pause now and brave a glance up. “And I really like that it brought me to you.”

There’s a softness in his expression that makes your heart skip. “M’glad it brought you to me, too.”

You chew on the inside of your lip to suppress a rather giddy grin before returning your focus to the wound. “All right, your turn.”

“My turn?”

You nod your chin toward his injured body. “Why do you keep letting this happen?”

He sighs, and his stomach tenses with the strained breath. He wears the same look he wears each time you ask, and you already know he’s searching for the right way to deflect the question. 

“I don’t know.”

You expected nothing less, yet tonight, you insist upon the truth. Scooting closer as you glance up almost pleadingly. “Where do you go? Who does this to you?”

He hesitates. “Cher—”

“I won’t judge you. I’d never judge you, but this isn’t…Harry, this is really scary. And I want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Another heavy pause as you continue the suture. He contemplates his response, the small bathroom filling with a tense sort of energy. You wonder if the truth hurts him more than the scars.

“I…fight,” he finally says, and you feel your pulse stutter. “I get paid to fight. Three nights a week.”

And even though you’d already begun to assume that was the case, you feel the blood drain from your face. “Harry…”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs quickly, reaching out to brush his thumb along your cheek. “I’m okay.”

You want to argue, but you bite your tongue. Zeroing in your focus on your hands.

“I like it,’ he continues. “Don’t know why, but there’s just…there’s this rush, you know? This adrenaline. Makes me feel alive to be so close to death, I guess.”

You hum quietly, features pulling together in a wince. 

“S’about the only thing I’m good at, too,” he adds with a wry chuckle. “And all I have to do is win.”

Your head lifts. “This doesn’t look like a win.”

“Yeah, well. You should’ve seen the other guy.”

And despite his attempt at humor, you look back down, lashes fluttering.

It’s quiet for another long lull before he says, “It’s how I met you.”

You choose to keep your eyes downcast on the needle this time, but your ears perk up.

“One of the guys I work with said your desserts were the best he’d ever had. Said he used to go there all the time, for every fucking meal.”

You pull the thread though his stained skin and he sucks in a sharp breath. 

But his story is undeterred. “And I always get kind of a sugar craving after a fight, so I thought I’d go. And then…you.”

You remember the night vividly. The sight of him, hands wrapped in gauze, eyes dark and inquisitive, that familiar hoodie pulled over his head.

He was mysterious and strange, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. 

You have been ever since.

“And he was right,” Harry whispers now, tucking his finger beneath your chin until he can see you. “Never had anything as sweet as you.”

Your heart returns to your throat, and there’s a sort of longing in your stomach that can’t be tamped. You aren’t sure if you want to laugh or cry, so you merely release a soft sigh and finish closing the wound.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” you ask of him again. “Really?”

He runs his tongue over his cracked lip. “Sometimes.”

“And would they let you leave? If you wanted to?”

The silence is deafening. 

His thumb moves to your mouth, brushing over the pink fibers that part for him. “Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to find out.”

It’s not a perfect answer. But it’s the one you choose to cling to, reaching up to squeeze his wrist in desperation.

You suppose this explains more than you realized. Why he won’t tell you who he really is. Why he won’t let you into his world. Why he insists on keeping you safe.

But it only makes this new reality that much heavier.

“Just make me a promise, okay?” you exhale. “Promise me that you’ll be all right. That you’ll stay safe. That you won’t…”

The unspoken word carries a weight that nearly crushes you, and he seems to understand as he squeezes your chin.

“That you’ll always come back,” you finish.

“I promise,” he says, even if you both know it’s not a promise he can make. “Always.”

You kiss him. Quickly and without pause, surging forward until your mouth meets his. You take his lips between your own, careful to mind the cut while remembering just how much he enjoys the sting.

Instantly, his hand curls around the back of your neck, tugging you as close as he can get you. Tongues tangling, teeth clashing, and soft grunts that reverberate all the way down to your chest.

“Careful,” you gasp, attempting to pull back when he guides you between his legs. “Your cut—”

“Don’t care,” he whispers, bringing you back to nip at your bottom lip. “Don’t fucking care.”

You whimper against him, hands resting delicately on his chest. “Har—”

“I know. Just missed you. Really missed you, sweet girl.”

He tugs you between his thighs and you allow yourself to be moved. Melting into his touch as he uses his height advantage to fully take control of you. In more ways than one. 

Desperate pants fill the tiny bathroom, and you can’t help but feel undone by him. Already feeling a certain throbbing in the pit of your stomach that can’t be tamed by anything else but him.

“Harry,” you try again, moving your hands to his hair. Carding your fingers through his matted, bloody curls. “Please…”

And then…you feel it. Rather, you feel him. Hard and prominent, pressing right up against you. 

You gasp, and he rests his forehead against yours. Cursing to himself when you nudge yourself forward.

And that’s when you realize. 

“Does pain turn you on?”

There’s a quick pause before he nods once. Trailing his lips along your cheek and toward your throat.

Your head spins. “Really?”

Another motion of his head. “It’s not really pain when it’s you.”

Breathlessly, you drop your touch to his lap, palming him through his dark jeans while he groans again and buries his nose in your neck. Inhaling you deeply while bracing himself against your knelt frame.

“Think it’s my turn now,” you say. “My turn to be good.”

The grip on your neck tightens, and you can feel him release a warm exhale against your collarbone before he’s kissing just below your ear.

Then, he shakes his head, and mumbles, “No.”

You stop, fingers freezing over the bulge between his thighs. “What?”

“No,” he repeats gently. “S’not about me. Wanna make this about you.”

You lean back just far enough to catch his eye. “But—”

“There are a lot of things I’ll never be able to give you. Or do for you,” he explains gingerly. “But I can do this. I want to do this, sweet girl. Wanna give you the fucking world because it’s what you deserve.”

You consider this for only a moment before settling on the floor. “Har…”

His head shakes once more. Thumb stroking the curve of your jaw while tilting your eyes up. “Never be able to tell you how beautiful you are. I don’t…I can’t even understand it. You’re perfect, Cherry. So fucking perfect, and I will spend the rest of my life wanting to be near you.”

It’s a sweet sentiment. One that nearly knocks the wind from your lungs as you gaze at him.

“Wanting to taste you…” he continues, dipping down to brush his nose against yours. “Feel you…touch you. You…are the best goddamn thing I will ever have.”

You whimper, pushing yourself closer until he finally kisses you. “Then let me…”

But he merely smiles. “One day, sweet girl. I promise.”

You want to push. You almost want to insist that he let you take his cock into your mouth, but the look on his face is resolute. Decisive. You aren’t changing his mind, at least not tonight.

And you decide that maybe it’s for the better. His body needs to rest in order to heal, and perhaps any extra strain would hurt him or rip the stitching.

So, you oblige. “Fine. But I’m holding you to that.”

With a chuckle, he kisses you again. “Good girl.”

The kisses grow more frantic. About as frantic as before, and you have to physically yank yourself out of his grasp in order to calm yourself down.

“No,” you say this time as you stand. “No, you need to lay down. And rest. Okay? Give your body time to heal. And get better.”

He watches you go, but he’s unconvinced, already looping an arm around your hips to pull you back. “This is how I get better.”

And even though you’re concerned for his health, you can’t deny the pulsing between your thighs. “Harry—”

“You make me better,” he says, trailing his lips along your arms, all the way down to your palms. “Always. Fucking always—”

You whine beneath a strained breath, your other hand dropping to his head as you tug on his hair.

In turn, he moans against you, and your knees about buckle. “Let me get better…please…”

And it’s almost like he doesn’t realize he’s said it. A subconscious thought that’s whispered against your skin until it becomes one with your bloodstream.

“Want to,” you say. “I want to, but you need to rest. I need you to rest, Har.”

“I am,” he tries to argue, glancing up through those thick lashes of his. “This is me resting.”

“Harry—”

“Please,” he nearly groans again, pressing his nose into your stomach. “God, please, Cher. Please. M’so fucking lost on you, I can’t…I need…”

He told you once that you’re like a drug to him. That he goes through withdrawals if you’re not near. If he’s gone too long without you.

And, truthfully, you feel about the same. Feeling strung-out and shaky without his touch. Even the sound of his voice. It’s borderline pathetic, yet you don’t ever want to be rid of him.

“You need to rest,” you repeat, although you’re losing conviction. “I want to, but I can’t…I’m worried. You shouldn’t move, you should rest.”

The air becomes charged as he looks back up. “Then ride my face.”

You hesitate. “What?”

“Ride my face,” he says again, practically groaning the instruction. “S’easy, right? Won’t have to move. I’ll just hold you, yeah?”

You feel the heat rush into your cheeks as you blink down at him. “I…you’re already hurt. I don’t want to suffocate you, too—”

“God, suffocate me,” he sighs, grabbing onto the backs of your thighs. Squeezing the flesh in his strong, battered hands pleadingly. “You’d never hurt me, baby, ever. S’all I fucking want. Don’t want anything else but you. Only you. All of you. Want you everywhere.”

And you believe him. You do. But the idea of…and being that close…

“What…but what if it’s too much?” you murmur. “What if I’m too…—”

“Never.” A firm shake of his head. “Fucking never. You would never be too much. Believe me. Tasting you is the only good thing in my life.”

There’s a catch in your throat that you swallow down. “I just…I’ve never…”

His expression softens. Thumbs brushing at your exposed skin before squeezing once more. “It’s okay. S’okay, sweet girl, really. Don’t have to if you don’t want to. Don’t have to do anything at all. But…I promise you…you could never do anything wrong. Ever. You breathe and you’re perfect.”

And he’s so honest. So good. You know he means it, know he’d never lie about something like this. And you do trust him. More than anything. Trust that he’d never judge you or want anything more from you than what you’re willing to give.

“If you say no, then it’s no,” he adds gently. “End of. Promise.”

But that’s not your problem. You’d happily do anything and everything with him. But you’re worried about his injuries and all the blood he’s already lost. Granted, his suggestion would perhaps be the best alternative, but…

“Fine,” you whisper, squeezing his curls in your fist. “Okay. But you need to be very careful and very still. And if it starts to hurt, we stop. Okay?”

There’s a wicked gleam in his eye. One you recognize all too well, yet it merely makes your pulse jump.

“Okay,” he agrees, almost mischievously. “Deal. Just lead the way.”

You bite back a whimper before glancing toward his knuckles. “I need wrap your hands first—”

“No,” he interjects. “No, leave ‘em. Just for right now. Wanna see them when I hold you.”

And there’s something about the idea that leaves you breathless, making your nails curl into his scalp as if to drag him closer. “Are you sure—”

“Yes.” He tugs on the hem of your dress again, almost as though trying to rip it off. “Yes, m’sure. Please, Cher…”

And you have no choice but to oblige.

You reach down, take his hand, and pull him onto his feet. Quickly and impatiently leading him out of the bathroom and down the hall to your room before pushing the door open and bringing him inside.

He only takes a moment to look around, eyebrows raised while a smile plays at his lips. He studies the array of artwork you have displayed, the baby blue paint on your walls, and the plethora of pillows that sit near your headboard. He seems…enchanted, almost, and it makes you giddy.

“S’cute,” he decides, offering his smirk to you. “Very cute. Very you.”

“Thanks,” you reply anxiously, already looping your arms around his neck in order to yank him back down. “Please?”

He chuckles against your lips before dropping his hands to your waist, nodding once, and pushing you back. “Do you trust me, baby? Trust me to take care of you?”

“Yes,” you answer instantaneously. “Yes, always.”

“Yeah? Know I’ll take care of you?”

“Yes.”

He drops you onto the bed before chasing after you. Lips on your cheek, your neck, your chest. Fingers playing with the buttons on your chest before he whispers, “Can I take this off, sweet girl?”

You motion your head almost frantically, leaning back to give him room.

He undoes your dress and slips it over your head in a matter of seconds. Leaving you in nothing but your underwear as he tosses it toward the floor before surging forward to kiss you again.

He’s seen you before. Seen your chest, your stomach, your thighs. But never in the privacy of your own home, and the way he seems to look at you now feels as though it changes everything. Like he’s looking at you for the very first time.

“Baby,” he breathes, pulling your lip between his teeth before groaning. “God…s’fucking cruel you have to hide this behind such a hideous dress.”

You grin against his mouth, scooting back in order to make space for him. “Then maybe you should come around and take it off more often.”

He likes this idea, chuckling to himself before grabbing hold of your hips, and flipping over onto his back. Effectively pulling you with him until you’re straddling his waist.

With a gasp, you glance down to his newly stitched cut, quickly inspecting in order to make sure nothing has been ripped or pulled. “Harry, you can’t—”

“Shh,” he coos, pulling on the back of your neck to bring you down again. Nose nudging with yours. “M’okay. I’ll tell you, yeah?”

“But—”

“I’m all right,” he insists quietly. “Promise. Just need you.”

You swallow the rest of your complaints, allowing your body to be pulled into his before he’s moving both hands to your naked thighs. Stroking along the tender, soft flesh and kneading it tenderly.

“Think you’re ready, baby?” he whispers. “Hm? Gonna let me have a taste?”

And even if you’re somewhat apprehensive, the lust that swims within the bottom of your stomach makes you whimper. Urging you to say, “Yes. Yes, I’m ready.”

“Good girl,” he hums, gliding his palms toward your ass before patting it once. “Up you go.”

You imagine you seem somewhat terrified, but his look of encouragement goes straight to your cunt. Encouraging you up his body until you can place your knees on either side of his head.

“Good,” he breathes, eyes already gluing to your panties. “So good, baby. Can you hold onto me? Hold onto my hair? And tug it if it’s too much?”

You nod weakly and drop your fingers to his curls. Brushing them gently while he smiles, lashes fluttering.

“Good girl,” he says again, and it makes you clench around nothing. “M’gonna pull you down now, okay? Don’t worry about anything. Just let me make you feel good. Promise I’ll be all right.”

You whimper beneath a deep breath before nodding again and allowing him to guide you down to his face.

You feel the tip of his nose ghost across the edge of your panties, right near your clit. And you can help but buck up, gasping as you squirm away from the stimulating touch.

But his hold on you is unrelenting, tightening when he feels you twitch before yanking you back into position.

“Uh-uh, sweet girl, none of that,” he warns softly, mouth dancing down your covered cunt. Tauntingly. Deviously. “M’just having some fun, yeah? Gonna let me have fun with such a pretty pussy?”

When you don’t answer, he gently smacks his hand against the side of your thigh.

“Yes,” you answer quickly, gathering his curls in your fist. “Yes, I…I will.”

“Mm. Good. Cause m’having so much fun with you, Cher. You know that? Always have fun getting to play with what’s mine.”

This possession sends chills down your spine and your chest heaves from the way he flattens his tongue against your underwear before dragging it down.

He seems to bask in your whines, moaning against your cunt before curling his fingers into your skin. Forcing you down even further until you’re nearly sat on his mouth.

His technique is sinful. Just enough to tease you and leave you wanting more. Effortlessly casting out any doubts or hesitation as you begin to settle in his hold, permitting him to keep you against his tongue until he sighs contently.

“Fucking killing me, baby,” he says, lifting you up in order to reach for the soft material against your pussy and drag it to the side. “Ready, sweet girl?”

You nod quickly.

“Promise to tug me if it’s too much or you want to stop?”

“Yes…yes, Har, please—”

“I know,” he shushes. “Just so well behaved for me, aren’t you? Hold still for me, all right?”

You go to nod again, but before you can, his lips are meeting your clit. Pressing the most innocent of kisses to the sensitive nerves until you choke on his name and yank his curls.

He seems to realize this aggression has more to do with the pleasure than the pain, and you can practically feel him smirk into your cunt before he does it again. Over and over and over, making your eyes roll back and your throat run dry with desperate pants and whimpers.

Then…he sucks. Takes your clit into his mouth before flattening his tongue and dragging it through.

You’ve never felt this kind of stimulation. This kind of overwhelming pleasure that goes directly to your toes.

Sure, he’s eaten you out before, but he’s never been this…close. He’s devouring you from the inside out. Forcing you against his mouth as though his life depends on it. 

The hold on your hip is unforgiving, and you’re almost sure you’ll see remnants of him on your skin tomorrow. The tips of his fingers tattooing to your waist and marking you as his forevermore. 

You aren’t sure what to do with yourself. Overcome with lust and infatuation for the man between your thighs. The way he expertly slides his lips through your folds, drowning in you.

The tip of his tongue teases your hole, and you feel him groan at the way your pussy flutters from the slight intrusion. And the vibration of his greed makes your hands tighten in his hair. Nail scraping so hard down his scalp, you’re sure you’ll draw blood.

But he loves it. Seems to thrive off it. Going in a bit further before dragging your arousal up to your clit and flicking.

Then, he swallows you down.

“Harry,” you gasp, and you wish you could see him. Wish more than anything that you could gaze down at his face and watch while he does this to you. 

He always tends to get a sort of mesmeric look in his eye when he’s making you cum. Almost like he’s in a trance. Hypnotized by your body, drunk off the way he’s making you feel.

You imagine that’s about how he looks now, and you’d give anything to see those beautiful, hazy eyes just once.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, pulling away just long enough to speak. “You’re okay, yeah?”

You nod quickly. “Yes. Yes, I’m okay. I promise—please…”

He understands your request perhaps better than anyone and smiles to himself before going back in. It’s far too easy to unravel you, it seems. All he has to do is suck, and flick, and slide his mouth along your dripping pussy, and you’re done for. Already nearing release before he’s even really begun.

He senses this, and instantly goes harder. Faster. Tongue fucking into your clenching hole relentlessly until you cry out his name…and let go.

You hardly have time to register what’s happening or warn him of your impending orgasm. Nor do you have the time to remove yourself from him before accidently crushing him between your thighs and beneath your weight.

Yet through every second, he holds on. Keeps you exactly where you were, stuck in his hold, glued to his tongue. Until every drop of your cum belongs to him.

“Har…Harry,” you pant, uncurling your fingers from his hair. “Okay, it’s okay…I came, I—”

“I know,” he mumbles, leaving another kiss to your clit. “And you’re gonna do it again.”

It’s resolute. He leaves no room for bargaining or questioning before he’s going back in. Quick flicks of his tongue through your pussy until you feel breathless.

It’s sloppy. Everything about it is sloppy and wet. The sounds, his technique. The way he makes out with your cunt as though it’s the best thing he’s ever had. And, truthfully, you imagine he believes it is.

He repeats the movement of his tongue along the overstimulated nerves until you begin to shake. Never letting up, even when you begin to whine rather pitifully. Instead, he squeezes your waist, and keeps you close. Makes sure you take every second of this blissful affliction until you cum for a second time. 

The moment you do, he readjusts his hold on your panties in order to slip a finger inside. Forcing you up onto your knees so he can nip at your clit and fuck his finger into you with a newly determined fervor.

“Harry,” you cry out again, moving one hand to your headboard to brace yourself. “Can’t…can’t—”

“You’re all right,” he hums, the tip of his nose pressing hard into your skin. “You’re all right, sweet girl. Just want one more, okay?”

 And you believe him. You do believe you’re all right, even if the painful pleasure he’s dragging you into nearly kills you. Making your legs shake and your lungs heave.

You want to give him another. You want to give him all of your orgasms, forever. And he knows this, so he adds a second finger, and pumps you mercilessly.

The sound echoes through your room, loud and lewd. But it intertwines beautifully with his soft murmurs of encouragement: 

“Good, baby, just like that. Fucking squeezin’ me, aren’t you? Hm? S’it feel good? Feel so good to ride my face?”

You can’t answer. Want to. Can’t. Skin growing hot as sweat beads at your hairline. Muscles burning, aching, crying out for reprieve.

But all you really feel…is him.

“One more, come on,” he urges, increasing the speed of his tongue and his thrusts. “Can feel how close you are, sweet girl. Know you want to, yeah?”

You whimper softly, body tensing with the impending release.

“Yeah? I know. Know you’re so close. Bet it hurts, doesn’t it? S’just too much for this sweet little pussy, hm?”

He curls those long digits into your cunt until you moan, thighs trembling beside his head as you attempt to keep yourself upright. “Har, please—”

“What? What do you need?”

Everything, all of it, whatever it takes. You aren’t even sure, you just need…more.

He moves his mouth to the inside of your leg. Kissing and sucking into the tender skin while his fingers continue to encourage you closer. 

“Just taste so good, don’t you?” He trails his lips back toward your cunt. Lazily mouthing at your clit as if to torture you. “Get so wet for me. S’precious. So fucking precious.”

He uses his fingers to spread you open. Exhaling against your dripping cunt until you begin to squirm. Writhing away from the sensation while he does it again.

“Mm-mm,” he tuts, pulling you closer. “Told you no, sweet girl. Said I could play with you, so I am. Thought you were behaving for me?”

He exploits your need to please him. To obey and win his approval, and it nearly drives you mad.

“Know it’s a lot, baby,” he coos next, slipping back inside and curling. “Know you’re all sensitive. Not used to being so overstimulated, are you?”

He’s right, you’re not. Apart from him, nobody else has ever really taken the time.

“Makes me wonder,” he continues gently. “Wonder how you touch yourself…here in this very room.”

He pulls your clit between his teeth and tugs until you gasp.

“Tell me, Cherry. Tell me how you touch yourself when I’m not around.”

Your mind goes blank. Darkening around the edges while you suck in quick pants for air.

“Tell me,” he repeats, coarse and riddled with an insatiable hunger. “Tell me what you think about. D’you think about me, baby? Think about how good you look on my tongue?”

You find just enough strength to nod as you squeeze his curls and whimper out your agreement. 

“Yeah? Go on, tell me.”

Your mouth drops open, yet nothing else comes out. Save for a plethora of pathetic whines and anxious mewling.

He seems to laugh, the low sound sending goosebumps across the back of your neck. “What’s the matter, Cher? Pussy got your tongue?”

You can hardly acknowledge the joke as you go reeling forward, just barely able to catch yourself against the headboard before collapsing. “You…you,” you finally groan. “Always you, Harry. Always.”

“Me?” You can hear the faux fascination. “You think about me, baby? What do you think about?”

What don’t you think about? “Your…your fingers,” you stammer. “And…and your mouth.”

“Yeah? Good girl. What else?”

You’re too close to think straight, already falling victim to your orgasm before it’s even found you. “You…your…your…”

“S’okay, baby, come on. Tell me.”

You swallow thickly and will yourself to speak. “Think…think about taking you. About how you’d feel. How you’d…be.”

“How I’d be, hm?” The hand on your hip tightens almost possessively. “How would you want me to be? How would you want me to fuck you?”

 An array of positions flash through your mind. The echoing of his groans and pants in your ear as he fucks you. The way he’d hold onto your leg and push it into the bed. The way he’d pull your hair and demand you take him. That you behave, be good. 

There’s something about him, you realize. Something about his dominance that makes you feel safe. Seen and cared for.

You want him to tell you what to do. Want to give him full control of your body and mind. Make your decisions for you so you don’t have to wrestle with them yourself. You trust him. Trust that he’d always put you first.

“Any way you want,” you finally answer. “Any…any way. Hard…slow…fast…deep. Just wanna be good for you.”

The noise he makes against your pussy is animistic. Virile and obsessed, and his mouth reattaches to your clit almost like a reward. 

“Good,” he nearly growls. “Know you would be. Know you’d be fucking perfect, yeah? Let me stretch this sweet, little pussy anyway I’d like?”

 “Yes. Yes, Harry, please—”

“Just take it, wouldn’t you? Take me so well?” He yanks you down so hard, you wonder if he can even breathe. Truthfully, you don’t think he cares either way. “What else do you think about, sweet girl? Think about me tying you up?”

You nod zealously, sneaking a glance at the headboard almost as though to recreate your fantasy. 

“Yeah? What else? Would you want me to spank you?” He follows this inquiry up with a quick – albeit gentle – slap to your outer thigh. “S’that what you want?”

“Harry—”

“What about your pretty, little throat, hm? D’you want me to hold it in my hand? Squeeze it till you see stars?”

The thought sends you into a frenzy. Stomach flipping in on itself until you’re clenching so hard around his fingers, you’re surprised they don’t break.

“Yeah? Oh, sweet girl,” he coos, slowly and almost inconspicuously sneaking a third digit into play. Filling you exactly the way you need. “My dirty little Cherry just wants to be taken care of, doesn’t she?”

You have nothing more to offer him. No more noises, no more whines, no more pleas. Your throat has gone dry, and your body is trembling almost violently.

He grins. “Then I’ll always take care of what’s mine.”

You’re not sure what does it. If it’s the way he strokes his fingers into that sweet spot in your cunt, the way he skims his tongue against your clit, or if it’s his promise. 

But no matter the cause, your third orgasm overwhelms you. Pulls you down into the deepest part of your pleasure before ripping you apart. Seam by seam.

He swallows every second of it. Attempting to drag the stimulation on for as long as he can before you have to psychically take yourself away in order to breathe. 

“Okay, okay,” you whimper, returning to the bed just beside him. “Can’t…I can’t…”

“Okay,” he agrees in a soft, soothing tone. Quicky reaching out to press his hand to your cheek while his thumb brushes at your heated skin. “Okay, we’re done. Did so good for me.”

Your lashes flutter as your vision slowly returns, and when you see him, you about moan.

During his ravaging of your pussy, the cut on his lip reopened, and now, blood is smeared across his mouth and chin. Glistening from his skin right beside the remnants of you.

You don’t imagine you’ve ever seen something so erotic. You also never imagined you’d find it so appealing, and yet the way it looks painted across his sharp jaw and swollen lips…

You surge forward and kiss him. So hard and so fast, you imagine you’ve made him dizzy. 

Instantly, his palm is pressing to the back of your head. Keeping you against his mouth while slowly pulling you back into his embrace. And he holds you against his chest while moaning something that sounds a lot like, “Fucking hell.”

 You kiss until the sun comes up. The soft, warm beams of light slipping through your curtains, setting the whole room – and your tired bodies – aglow. 

His mouth moves to your neck. “You still with me, baby?”

You smile. “Always.”

“Good.” He leaves one, final kiss. “And you’re feeling all right?”

“Mhm. Are you?”

“Oh, I’m more than all right, sweet girl. M’fucking perfect.”

He guides back onto his chest. Limbs tangling together as he puts your body between his legs until he can hold you properly. Even despite your fussing over his injuries.

But it’s not until you’ve begun to settle that you feel it. “Harry?” you whisper softly.

“Mm?”

“…did you cum?”

He smiles before pressing his lips to your forehead. “Yeah.”

“But I didn’t…I mean I didn’t get to—"

“You just have that effect on me, Cher,” he murmurs, snaking his arms a bit tighter around your frame. “Told you. Making you feel good is all I want.”

You glance up, expression wounded. “Why won’t you let me help? I thought…I mean, you keep saying you want me to, but you never…you won’t let me.”

The bedroom falls silent as he considers this. The sage green in his eye melting into something golden from the reflection of the sunrise.

He reaches out and brushes his thumb across your mouth. Seeming to clean you of the blood that smeared when you kissed.

“I didn’t want this to be about me,” he finally says. “I never do.”

You merely frown. “But I want to do it. Do you not…I mean, do you think I can’t or something?”

A soft chuckle. “Oh, I know you can. Know you’d use this pretty little mouth just right, yeah?”

You nod.

“Yeah.” He squeezes your chin. “I meant what I said. One day. There are a lot of things I want to do with you. Be for you. But right now, I can’t…I’m not in a place where I can offer them to you. Not with…everything else going on.”

Your stomach sinks as you realize. You might not understand the complexities of his job or his life, but you do understand his concern. And you trust that he doesn’t make this decision lightly. 

“Besides,” he adds coyly, “they kind of have a rule about it.”

“Oh, do they?”

“Yeah. Something about reduced testosterone and decreased aggression. I don’t know, s’probably bullshit.” A nonchalant shrug. “Just means I get to keep the focus on you. Which is all I really want, anyway.”

“I can tell,” you tease, reaching up to brush your nose against his. “Why is that?”

“Because you’re perfect.” He says it so easily. As though it needs no thought. “Baby, you have no fucking idea how beautiful you are. Touching you is the closest I will ever get to heaven.”

You wonder how he does that. How he always manages to say exactly what you need to hear. And make you believe it. Every time.

You kiss him again, but it’s slow. Soft and gentle and full of an unspoken emotion that nearly overwhelms you. 

You fall asleep against his heart. His lips in your hair, your fingers on his chest. And for the next few hours, you dream of nothing but him.

By the time you wake, it’s nearly afternoon. Your muscles are sore and your body aches from the decisions and positions of the night before. 

But it’s a good sort of pain. The kind that reminds you of how willing you are to do it again.

You’re both quiet as you stir, and it’s comfortable. As though you’re used to waking up together. Exchanging nothing more than smiles and a hoarse, “Morning.”

After offering him some cereal, you ask if he’d like to take a shower. Maybe change into something else before you take him back to the diner so he can retrieve his car and you can pick up yours from your friend.

He politely declines, but he does agree to your stipulation that you check his wounds before you leave. He even stands perfectly still while you assess each cut and stitch in order to make sure everything is still in place.

Which to your surprise, it is.

Once you’ve gathered your things, you exit your apartment (after locking it as previously instructed), and head for the subway station.

It’s almost strange to see him in the light of day. He’s still as effortlessly striking as before, if not perhaps more. His skin looks a bit more tan, and his hair seems softer in the sun. But he walks with a kind of confidence you almost envy, slinging his arm around your shoulders just like the night before. This time, out of possession.

And you grin the whole way there.

It feels normal. Feels good. Natural. Like it was always meant to be. You and him. Always.

Your heart begins to sink with each step closer you get to the diner. You cling to his hoodie as though it physically hurts to say goodbye. And in turn, he pulls you in tighter to his heart, as if refusing to let you.

“I’ll walk you in,” he murmurs once you reach the parking lot, and you nod gratefully. Already taking in a deep breath as you prepare to watch him leave.

You see your car near the front of the diner, signaling that your friend is here to drop off the keys. And you almost feel nervous because you aren’t sure how to explain Harry. Or if you even need to explain him at all. 

If he’d want you to.

A part of you wants to protect him from everybody else. From their prying eyes and inquisitive questions. From their haughty, judgmental stares and this idea that they know who he really is.

Instead, you take his hand in yours, and squeeze. Offering him one last smile to hold you over until you see him again.

Which you can only hope will be soon.

He pushes the door open and leads you inside. Loosening his grip on you almost regretfully while your heart sinks down into your toes.

But the moment you both step beneath the light, he stops. Suddenly and with a strained inhale as fingers retighten around yours, halting you in place.

Concerned, you glance over the side of his face rather curiously before following his eyeline further into the diner.  

And that’s when you see him. 

“Hey, thanks again for letting me borrow your car,” your friend says, sliding off one of the barstools in order to hand you your keys. “I really appreciate it. It was a huge help.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” you murmur before looking back to the tense man beside you. “Uh…this is my friend, Jesse. And Jesse, this is—”

“Harry,” Jesse says for you, lips curling up almost knowingly before he’s nodding once. 

Now even more confused, your head tilts while Harry’s skin instantly pales, his jaw clenching as his grip on your hand gets stronger.

But despite your muddled expression, Jesse merely chuckles to himself and steps forward, dragging his eyes from you to the tall stranger holding you.

“I see you finally found my girl.”

EEEEE I AM HAVING WAY TOO MUCH FUN

Next Part:

~ Reckless*

Previous Part:

~ Knockout*

~ Full Knockout Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgff@myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @amberbambridge @percysaidnever @prettydelilah @ripesinner @fairytale07 @hannah9921 @mitochondrialeva-blog1 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @buckybarnessimpp @lomlhstyles @be-with-me-so-happily @daphnesutton @ribbonknives @stylesfever @slutforcoffein @rainycowbride @harringtonhundreds @kaybee87 @youcan-nolonger-run @tobesocoldasyou @dylanobandposts21 @cherryshouse

[stevesjockstrap]

Alone on Thanksgiving? Mad at your dad?

Based on this post

Or, Steve invites Craigslist!Eddie to Thanksgiving as his fake boyfriend for entertainment and drama purposes

Rated: T? Always with the swearing idk | read on ao3

ETA a/n: shout out to @rocknrollsalad for a direct quote in here and putting up with me and @machtaholic for encouraging this 🖤

“Are you serious?”

Steve sighed. “Yes, Robbie. You know how much my parents have been on me since they’re losing what little power they have left. This is going to be awesome.”

She was pacing around their living room, making him anxious. “But why are you going to take this stranger from Craigslist? Why can’t you find someone you know? Argyle would do it. What if this guy doesn’t show, or he comes and steals something?”

“If he doesn’t show I’m in the same boat anyhow, but hey, there’s a thought. You think I can pay him more to steal something from my parents? I’d love to see that.”

“Steve!” She rounded on him, eyes wide. “You’re paying him? You didn’t tell me that!”

“For fuck’s sake, Rob. He didn’t ask for money, the post actually said he would do it just for food. But the guy’s driving half an hour and I’m willing to bet my family is worse than he’s expecting. Sit down, you’re making me dizzy. Read this and tell me this isn’t exactly what I need.” He scrolled on his phone and handed it to her.

Her shoulders relaxed as she read on, laughing finally, “You’re not going to make him propose or fight your dad on the front lawn, right?”

“Maybe for Christmas,” he smirked.

His parent’s house was always so cold and empty. It was his childhood home but he had never really felt any attachment to it. His apartment with Robin was small and cluttered but cozy, and full of memories of them and their friends. They had done a Friendsgiving the previous weekend that had been a dangerously good time. (The smoke detector had only gone off three times, a new record.)

Running his hand through his hair again, he looked at the clock. Would Eddie show? He checked his phone again, knowing there were no missed texts because he had just looked thirty seconds ago. Why was he more nervous about meeting him than introducing him to his family? They’d had one phone call and some texts, mostly arranging the time and place and Steve already apologizing for his family.

Eddie had laughed, “It’s okay, Steve. Trust me, I’ve dealt with worse.”

He went to the bathroom, just to kill time.

And of course the doorbell rang.

He quickly washed and dried his hands, sparing a second to pull his hair into a less raked-through mess.

Quickening his pace when he saw his mom still holding the door open, not allowing whoever was on the stoop in, he craned his neck to see out the door.

Oh fuck.

“If you’d just go get him, ma’am, we could clear this all up,” Eddie was saying. The words were polite but there was an edge to them, just the tinge of a sneer on his lips. It was perfect.

“He’s mine,” he heard himself say. His mom whipped around, eyes crazed and mouth open. “Uh- I mean,” his eyes returned to Eddie standing on his doorstep. Taking in the long thick wavy hair, big brown eyes, his lips pulled into a toothy grin now. He’d clearly attempted to dress up, grey slacks and a black button down, paired with heavy combat boots. The sleeves were rolled up to reveal tattoos up his forearms and the backs of his hands. There were more tattoos on his neck, and Steve’s eyes glued themselves to the ring through his lip. Guh. “He’s, uh, here for me.”

“Hi Steve,” he watched the lips form. “Was just meeting your lovely mother.” Again there was nothing wrong with the words themselves, nothing anyone could pinpoint or take offense to. But that slithery way he said it with a razor sharp sting, Steve was impressed. He was clearly an expert at this.

Steve tried to school his own expression and voice. “My apologies. Mom, this is Eddie, my boyfriend.”

There was a long silence where he thought his mom was going to combust. She opened and closed her mouth several times, her eyebrows furrowed. He’d never seen her speechless before.

Eddie sent him a smirk and he almost matched it but his mom looked at him finally and stammered, “Y-your, ah, I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes and pulled in a steadying breath. When she opened them she asked, “He’s your boyfriend?”

“Yes ma’am,” Eddie answered from almost behind her now as she turned to question Steve.

“And why is it you didn’t tell us he was coming? Why is he ringing the doorbell like a stranger?”

“I, um, well I did think he’d text when he got here or something…” Steve started, meeting Eddie’s eyes over her shoulder.

“What, and miss out on this warm welcome?” Eddie winked at him but quickly settled his face when his mom turned to him. Doing the exact thing he’d hoped for, Mrs. Harrington remembering she’s leaving a guest out on her doorstep.

Steve delighted in the fact that this was going to be a chess match and his mother was already several moves behind.

Her eyes narrowed and she held a hand out to welcome Eddie in, walking them all into the foyer. “Well, don’t let me stop you, go ahead and greet your boyfriend, Steven.”

It was a challenge, he knew, but they hadn’t discussed this. Eddie was on the ball, however. He continued his momentum to slide a hand under Steve’s suit jacket to settle on his ribs and the other he brought up to cup his face, leaning in and angling their heads together. Steve tried to relax and closed his eyes. Eddie pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, but from where his mom was standing she wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Hey, baby. Missed you,” he breathed when he pulled away. Steve was halfway to believing this himself.

“Yeah,” he sighed stupidly.

Eddie pulled his hands away and he almost reached back for them before stopping himself with a shake. He found he’d only gone a foot away when he opened his eyes though. Oh he was in trouble.

His mother cleared her throat from behind Eddie like she hadn’t put them up to this. Steve reached out for his hand and held onto it.

“Okay so I’m going to go introduce him to everyone else,” he said quickly and walked further into the house. Holding his hand.

They made their way through the dining room, Steve taking more and more pleasure with each stilted interaction Eddie weaved through with his family members.

His dad was propped in the living room with his uncle and Steve could feel his eyes on him as they made their way around. He knew his mother had ran to tell him all about it but he wouldn’t take being ignored well. It was making his skin crawl but he knew it would further piss off his dad so he kept it up.

After everyone else had been formally introduced to Eddie and Steve had gulped half a glass of wine, he felt almost ready to go deal with him. He took Eddie’s hand again and turned, but navigated them to the sliding glass door and outside instead.

It was chilly, late November in Indiana, but it felt amazing after the stuffiness of the house.

Steve remembered he still had Eddie’s hand in his and he quickly dropped it. “Uh, you smoke?”

Eddie grinned, all teeth and tongue as he held a battered pack of Newports out to him. “Not usually, really, but it makes for a good prop. Sorry they’re shit.”

“Holy shit. You’re amazing. I mean- perfect, I mean- fuck.” Steve laughed and shook his head. “The on-the-spot fact checking of my aunt’s political shit was next level. You could do this year round and make a killing, man.” He did pull a cigarette out of the pack and Eddie leaned into him, clicking the lighter for him, meeting his eyes as Steve sucked in.

“I don’t-“

The door slid open behind them and Mr. Harrington walked out.

“Looks like you and your date are avoiding me, Steven,” he said. Steve watched as he gave Eddie a very slow up and down look.

“No, dad. Just needed a break. It’s warm in there.” He made his face remain neutral. It’s not like anyone was cooking anything, his mom always got their big family meals catered.

His dad narrowed his eyes at him as he held eye contact, taking a drag from his bummed cigarette.

“Where is Robin today?”

He sighed. “With her family, dad. And for the last time, I’m not dating Robin. She’s a lesbian. This is Eddie, by the way. My date? He’s my boyfriend.”

When Steve had tried to come out as bisexual to his parents, his dad especially had made it clear that he did not accept that about his only child. As the years went on and he hadn’t spoken much about this part of his life, it seemed his dad had hoped it just went away.

Mr. Harrington scoffed, “I don’t understand why you want to throw your life away, Steven. I thought we’d raised you better-“ Eddie made a noise next to him and Steve knew he couldn’t look at him or he’d burst out laughing.

“Save it, dad. Believe it or not I love my life. Which is something I’d never thought I would be able to say. Can you even say that?”

His dad shook his head disappointedly and walked back inside.

“Excellent job. I don’t think you need me here after all,” Eddie joked.

Steve propped himself against the wall of the house, deeply tired from having to defend his choices to his dad for the umpteenth time.

“Maybe not need. But it’s been really fun having you here. Usually dinner conversation is about how big of a disappointment I am. Oh, I guess I didn’t give you that backstory. I’m graduating with my masters in psychology in the spring, and I’ve been early accepted into a PhD program. And there’s no money in helping people,” he chuckled. “So.” He scuffed out the butt with his heel and left it on his dad’s pristine patio.

“Steve. That’s amazing! Congratulations.” Eddie seemed genuinely excited for him and it brought a small smile to his face. “You look like you could really use a hug, man. Can I hug you?”

“Of course.” If he let himself hold on for a few seconds longer than strictly necessary, Eddie allowed it.

Dinner was quiet. His uncle asked Eddie what he did for work and he enthusiastically explained he was a line cook and worked nights at a bar. Steve surreptitiously looked around to take in everyone’s expressions and quickly covered his mouth with his napkin. He actually enjoyed himself during a holiday dinner for the first time he could remember.

Eddie at one point threw an arm around the back of his chair and he leaned in a bit into him, catching the disapproving stares they got from the corner of his eye.

Pie was passed around and by then Steve had had another glass of wine or two. He reached over to thumb the whipped cream from the side of Eddie’s lip without thinking, before popping the thumb into his own mouth. Eddie’s eyes widened and it was on the tip of his tongue to apologize but he caught himself.

“Thanks, babe,” Eddie said with a chuckle.

After saying their awkward goodbyes to everyone, Steve walked Eddie to his van. He looked down at his feet, fiddling with his keys.

“Hey, um, this may be out of left field and let me know if it’s too much, okay?” Eddie waited for Steve to nod. “Do you want to come to my uncle’s with me tomorrow night? It’s just the two of us and he always volunteers to work the holiday. But we do a thing, you know. A-and he’s always bugging me to bring someone.”

Steve blinked. “Would it have to be a fake date? I’m not as skilled at that as you are.”

“No, I mean, it wouldn’t- god I suck. I’m actually asking, like for real. If that’s okay? Just be you. And I’ll just be me.”

“That’s very okay. I’d really like that.” He couldn’t hold back his smile. Taking the chance, he leaned in, Eddie meeting him in the middle to finally press their lips together.

[fioredeciliego]

Lost in the Light - Giselle x Fem!Reader

12.6K words

The carnival entrance was alive with a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds. Strings of twinkling lights crisscrossed overhead, casting a golden glow on the crowds below. Somewhere to the left, a man was calling out for people to try their luck at a ring toss, while the smell of fresh funnel cakes wafted from a nearby food stall. Y/N stood near the ticket booth, craning her neck in a futile attempt to spot her friends among the throng of laughing families and couples.

She sighed, clutching her phone as another unanswered text lit up the screen. Where are you guys? she typed again, glancing around in frustration. The noise, the lights—it was all starting to feel overwhelming.

Just as she turned to step away, someone bumped into her hard from the side. The collision sent Y/N stumbling a bit, and before she could process what was happening, she felt something light and fluffy cascade down her arm.

“Oh no! My popcorn!”

Y/N blinked, looking down to see buttery kernels scattered across the pavement and clinging to her jacket. She looked up, her annoyance quickly dissolving as she met the sheepish gaze of the person responsible.

“I am so sorry,” the girl stammered, brushing her short, raven-black hair out of her face. She wore an oversized beige jacket over a simple black top, and the mortified look in her doe-like eyes was enough to make Y/N’s irritation melt away.

“It’s fine,” Y/N said, brushing some popcorn off her sleeve. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” the girl replied, giving an apologetic smile. “But my popcorn, clearly, is not.” She glanced at the mess on the ground with exaggerated despair. “It didn’t deserve to go out like this.”

Y/N let out a laugh, surprising herself. “Tragic, really. It had so much more life to live.”

“Exactly!” The girl grinned, holding up the now-empty popcorn box. “Guess I’ll have to grab another, though at this rate, I might as well wear it instead.”

The humor in her voice was infectious, and Y/N found herself relaxing despite the chaos around them. “Here, let me help you clean up,” she offered, but the girl waved her off.

“It’s okay. No point crying over spilled popcorn, right?” She tilted her head, her expression turning curious. “Are you waiting for someone?”

Y/N sighed, glancing at her phone again. “Yeah, my friends. But I think I’ve officially lost them.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “No way, same here. I was supposed to meet up with my group, but I kind of got distracted by... everything.” She gestured vaguely at the carnival behind her, a slight pout forming on her lips.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at her animated frustration. “It’s easy to get lost in all this. It’s like sensory overload.”

“Right? I mean, who puts the popcorn stand next to the bumper cars? Recipe for disaster.”

They both laughed, the awkwardness of their initial collision fading.

“I’m Aeri, by the way,” the girl said, holding out a hand.

“Y/N,” Y/N replied, shaking it. Aeri’s grip was warm and firm, and for a moment, Y/N felt a strange but pleasant flutter in her chest.

“So,” Aeri began, letting go of Y/N’s hand. “Since we’re both stranded in this neon wilderness, how about we help each other out? Two lost people are better than one, right?”

Y/N hesitated. “You want to team up?”

“Why not?” Aeri shrugged, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Unless you have a better plan?”

Y/N thought about it for a moment. She had no idea where her friends were, and navigating the carnival alone sounded like a nightmare. Besides, there was something oddly comforting about Aeri’s presence, even though they’d just met.

“Alright,” Y/N said, slipping her phone into her pocket. “But if we end up more lost than we already are, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair,” Aeri replied with a playful smirk. “Now, let’s find our people—and maybe some replacement popcorn while we’re at it.”

They started walking together, weaving through the bustling crowds. Aeri took the lead, her head turning this way and that as if she were a detective on a mission. Y/N followed closely, trying not to lose sight of her in the sea of faces.

“So,” Y/N said, breaking the silence. “What’s your group like?”

“Oh, they’re great,” Aeri replied, her tone light. “Chaotic, but great. We came here for the rides, but knowing them, they’re probably stuck at the game booths trying to win some ridiculous prize.”

“Classic carnival behavior,” Y/N said, nodding. “What about you? Are you a rides person or more into the food and games?”

“Hmm.” Aeri tilted her head thoughtfully. “Rides are fun, but there’s something about carnival food that just hits differently, you know? Like, when else do you get an excuse to eat fried Oreos and pretend it’s normal?”

Y/N laughed. “True. I’m more of a rides person, though. Love the adrenaline.”

Aeri grinned. “Noted. We’ll have to hit the Ferris wheel later.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “A Ferris wheel isn’t exactly an adrenaline rush.”

“It is if you’re afraid of heights,” Aeri quipped, her smirk widening.

Their banter continued as they wandered through the carnival, stopping occasionally to look around for any familiar faces. They didn’t find their friends, but Y/N found herself enjoying the conversation more than she expected.

“So,” Aeri said after a while, “what’s your story? How’d you end up here?”

“My friends thought it would be fun,” Y/N replied. “And it is, I guess. Just didn’t expect to get separated.”

Aeri nodded. “Same here. Honestly, though, I’m kind of glad I got lost. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have run into you.”

The comment caught Y/N off guard, and she felt her cheeks heat up slightly. “You mean you wouldn’t have spilled popcorn all over me?”

“Exactly,” Aeri said with a grin. “Clearly, fate wanted us to meet.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her smile. Something told her this night was going to be a lot more memorable than she’d anticipated.

The carnival stretched out before them, a maze of glowing attractions and excited laughter. They’d meandered toward the rides, the colorful glow of a Ferris wheel dominating the skyline. Aeri slowed as they approached the ticket booth, reaching for her wallet with casual confidence.

“Alright,” Aeri declared, flipping open her wallet with a flourish. “Let’s grab some tickets and hit the rides.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Let’s? Who said I agreed to rides?”

“Oh, please,” Aeri said, shooting her a playful look. “You just admitted you’re a rides person. No way you’re backing out now.”

“Fine,” Y/N conceded, hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. “But we’re splitting the cost.”

“Absolutely not.” Aeri stepped forward, handing a crisp bill to the ticket attendant before Y/N could protest.

“Wait—” Y/N stammered, reaching for her own wallet. “I said we’re splitting!”

Aeri waved her off, a cheeky grin tugging at her lips. “Consider it my apology for the popcorn incident.”

The attendant handed over a stack of tickets, which Aeri took with a triumphant air. She turned to Y/N, holding the tickets just out of reach. “See? Problem solved.”

Y/N crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t need an apology. Besides, you’re not the only one who can pay, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Aeri teased, stepping closer and dangling the tickets like a prize. “But I’m not letting you. What kind of person would I be if I let the victim of my popcorn tragedy pay for her own fun?”

Y/N sighed, a mix of exasperation and amusement. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told that before,” Aeri said with a wink, tucking the tickets into her jacket.

Y/N watched her for a moment, half tempted to argue further. But there was something disarming about Aeri’s playful confidence, the way she so effortlessly took charge. It was... oddly endearing.

“Fine,” Y/N muttered, looking away to hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “But next time, I’m paying.”

“Deal,” Aeri replied, extending a hand as if to shake on it.

Y/N hesitated, then took her hand. The moment their palms met, Aeri gave a mock-serious nod. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N said, pulling her hand back, though she couldn’t suppress a small smile.

They turned toward the rides, the tickets now burning a metaphorical hole in Aeri’s pocket.

“So,” Aeri began, surveying the attractions. “What’s first? Roller coaster? Haunted house? Or are we starting slow with the merry-go-round?”

Y/N snorted. “Merry-go-round? What are we, five?”

“Hey, merry-go-rounds can be fun,” Aeri said, feigning offense. “But fine. What’s your pick, adrenaline junkie?”

Y/N scanned the area, her eyes landing on a spinning ride that looked borderline terrifying. “How about that one?”

Aeri followed her gaze and let out a low whistle. “Bold choice. I like it.”

As they made their way to the ride, Aeri glanced at Y/N out of the corner of her eye. “You know,” she said casually, “this whole stubborn thing you’ve got going on is kind of cute.”

Y/N nearly tripped over her own feet. “What?”

“You heard me,” Aeri said, her smirk growing.

“I—I’m not stubborn,” Y/N protested, though her face was rapidly heating up.

“Sure you’re not,” Aeri said, clearly enjoying herself.

Before Y/N could come up with a retort, they reached the line for the ride. Aeri handed over two tickets with a flourish, and the attendant waved them through.

“After you,” Aeri said, motioning for Y/N to go first.

Y/N huffed but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks... I guess.”

As they climbed into the ride and secured the harnesses, Y/N shot Aeri a sidelong glance. “You know, you’re awfully cocky for someone who’s scared of Ferris wheels.”

Aeri gasped in mock indignation. “Excuse me, I am not scared of Ferris wheels. I merely have a healthy respect for heights.”

“Right,” Y/N said, smirking. “Keep telling yourself that.”

The ride operator called out instructions, and soon they were off, the world spinning in a blur of lights and laughter.

Aeri’s earlier teasing faded as she threw her hands up and let out a genuine laugh, her carefree energy infectious. Y/N found herself laughing too, all thoughts of their earlier bickering forgotten.

As the ride slowed to a stop, Aeri turned to Y/N, her cheeks flushed from the excitement. “Alright, I admit it,” she said breathlessly. “You have good taste in rides.”

“Glad you approve,” Y/N said, grinning.

They climbed out and started toward the next attraction, the playful banter picking up right where it left off.

The funhouse stood at the edge of the carnival, its colorful neon sign flickering like a siren’s call. Laughter echoed from within, mingling with carnival music and the distant hum of rides.

“A funhouse?” Y/N asked skeptically, eyeing the swirling patterns painted on the facade.

“What? Scared of a few mirrors?” Aeri teased, nudging her playfully.

“Not scared,” Y/N shot back, crossing her arms. “Just seems a little... pointless.”

“Pointless?” Aeri gasped in mock offense. “The funhouse is a carnival classic. Besides,” she added with a smirk, “it’s perfect for someone like you. Maybe you’ll finally find your way out of being directionally challenged.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “Fine. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

They stepped inside, the air immediately cooler and filled with the distorted echoes of giggles and shuffling feet. The maze of mirrors loomed ahead, stretching in every direction.

“Alright, navigator,” Y/N said, gesturing grandly. “Lead the way.”

“Gladly,” Aeri replied, striding forward confidently—only to smack straight into a mirror.

The dull thud was followed by a beat of silence, then Y/N’s laughter erupted.

“Oh, you’re definitely qualified to make fun of my sense of direction,” Y/N teased, clutching her sides.

Aeri rubbed her forehead, trying to maintain her dignity. “That was just a warm-up. Watch and learn.”

They ventured deeper into the maze, the mirrored walls playing tricks on their perception. Every turn seemed to lead to a distorted version of themselves, their reflections stretching, shrinking, or multiplying in ways that were equal parts amusing and unsettling.

At one point, Aeri stopped in front of a mirror that made her appear comically tall and thin. “What do you think?” she asked, striking an exaggerated pose. “Supermodel material, right?”

Y/N snorted. “If supermodels were designed by Picasso, sure.”

“Hey, don’t hate on the future of fashion,” Aeri said, feigning a pout before breaking into a laugh.

They continued to navigate the maze, the laughter flowing easily between them. But as they rounded another corner, Y/N suddenly realized Aeri was no longer beside her.

“Aeri?” she called out, her voice echoing eerily in the confined space.

“Over here!” Aeri’s voice replied, though it was hard to pinpoint where it was coming from.

Y/N turned in circles, each mirror reflecting a different version of herself. Her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out which path to take.

“Wow,” Aeri’s voice called again, this time closer. “You really are bad at this.”

“Keep talking,” Y/N retorted, squinting at her surroundings. “I’ll find you eventually.”

“Or maybe I’ll find you first,” Aeri quipped, her tone teasing.

Y/N groaned, taking another hesitant step forward. “This is ridiculous. How is it this hard to find one person?”

“Maybe I’m just good at hiding,” Aeri said, suddenly stepping out from behind a mirrored corner right in front of Y/N.

Y/N jumped, letting out an involuntary yelp. “Geez, warn me next time!”

Aeri grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “What, no thanks for rescuing you from your maze-induced despair?”

“Rescuing me?” Y/N repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who got us separated in the first place.”

“Details, details,” Aeri said, waving a hand dismissively.

Y/N shook her head but couldn’t suppress her smile. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet,” Aeri said, leaning slightly closer, “you keep hanging around.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, the sudden shift in Aeri’s tone catching her off guard. But before she could respond, Aeri stepped back with a wink.

“Come on,” Aeri said, gesturing toward the exit sign visible in the distance. “Let’s get out of here before you start leaving breadcrumbs to find your way back.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, following her toward the exit. “You’re lucky I have a sense of humor.”

As they emerged from the funhouse, the cool night air hit them, the carnival’s vibrant energy washing over them once again.

“So,” Aeri said, turning to Y/N with a mischievous grin. “What’s next? Haunted house? Ferris wheel? Or do you need a break to recover from your navigation failure?���

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll take on whatever you’ve got, Picasso Supermodel.”

The warm glow of carnival lights painted everything in soft hues of pink and gold as Y/N and Aeri wandered toward the food stalls. The air was thick with the scent of sugar, fried dough, and buttery popcorn.

Aeri’s eyes lit up as she spotted the cotton candy stand, the machine spinning delicate clouds of pink and blue. “Oh, we’re stopping here. No arguments.”

Y/N chuckled. “Not arguing. Cotton candy’s basically a carnival necessity.”

They approached the stall, where the vendor—a cheerful older man in a striped shirt—greeted them with a wide smile. “What’ll it be? Pink, blue, or a mix?”

“Pink,” Aeri said decisively.

“Mix,” Y/N countered at the same time.

Aeri gave her a playful glare. “Pink is the classic choice. Don’t mess with perfection.”

“Blue’s just as good, and a mix is the best of both worlds,” Y/N argued, crossing her arms.

The vendor laughed, holding up his hands. “How about I make you the biggest one I’ve got, with both colors? Settles the debate, no?”

“Fine,” Aeri said with mock reluctance. “But only because I’m feeling generous.”

Y/N smirked. “Sure, let’s call it that.”

The vendor spun the cotton candy into an enormous, fluffy confection that looked almost too big to eat. Almost. Aeri handed over the cash, waving off Y/N’s attempt to contribute.

“Still trying to pay for everything, huh?” Y/N teased as they walked away from the stall.

“Of course,” Aeri said breezily, tearing off a piece of the cotton candy. “It’s part of my charm.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “If you say so.”

They found a quiet spot near a row of game booths, the noise of the carnival slightly muffled by the distance. Sitting on a low wooden fence, they passed the cotton candy back and forth, each taking turns tearing off pieces of the sugary treat.

“This stuff tastes exactly like I remember from when I was a kid,” Y/N said, her voice tinged with nostalgia.

“Did you come to carnivals a lot?” Aeri asked, tilting her head curiously.

“Not a lot,” Y/N admitted. “But whenever I did, I always made a beeline for the cotton candy. It felt like eating a cloud.”

Aeri grinned. “My friends and I used to dare each other to see who could eat the biggest piece without getting sticky fingers. Spoiler: None of us ever won.”

Y/N laughed, imagining a younger Aeri in the midst of a sugary, sticky competition. “I would’ve been the same. Carnivals were the one place I could let loose. Everything felt so magical, you know?”

Aeri nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Yeah. Like nothing bad could happen when you were surrounded by all these lights and happy faces.”

For a moment, they both fell quiet, lost in their own thoughts. The hum of the carnival filled the silence, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or the ringing of a game booth bell.

“Okay,” Aeri said suddenly, breaking the moment. “Important question: What’s your strategy for eating cotton candy?”

Y/N blinked at her. “Strategy?”

“Yes, strategy,” Aeri insisted, holding up the cotton candy like it was a priceless artifact. “Do you eat it in big bites or little pieces?”

“Little pieces, obviously,” Y/N said, demonstrating by plucking a small tuft of pink. “It’s about savoring the experience.”

“Wrong,” Aeri declared, leaning in dramatically. “The correct answer is big bites. Maximum flavor, minimal effort.”

Y/N gasped, feigning offense. “That’s barbaric! Cotton candy deserves respect.”

Aeri laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s literally just sugar. I think it can handle a little barbarism.”

Shaking her head, Y/N grabbed the cotton candy and took an exaggeratedly dainty bite. “See? This is the proper way to—”

Before she could finish, Aeri lunged forward and took an enormous bite directly from the side of the cotton candy, her grin mischievous and unapologetic.

“Hey!” Y/N protested, holding the now-lopsided treat out of reach.

Aeri just laughed, a strand of cotton candy stuck to the corner of her mouth. “What? I’m demonstrating my superior strategy.”

Y/N sighed in mock exasperation but couldn’t help laughing. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Aeri said, echoing their earlier funhouse exchange, “you’re still hanging around.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up but quickly distracted herself by tearing off another piece of cotton candy. “Whatever. Just don’t eat it all before I get my share.”

They continued eating, the conversation drifting to their favorite carnival rides and games, childhood memories, and a few stories that had them both doubled over in laughter.

By the time the cotton candy was gone, their fingers sticky and their faces aching from smiling, Y/N felt a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the sugar rush.

“You know,” Aeri said as they stood to leave, “for someone who’s allegedly lost, you’re not bad company.”

“Right back at you,” Y/N replied, bumping Aeri’s shoulder lightly.

The Ferris wheel stood tall at the center of the carnival, its colorful lights blinking rhythmically against the night sky. It was a beacon of nostalgia, the kind of ride that people couldn’t resist no matter how many times they’d been on one before.

“We have to do it,” Aeri said, her eyes shining as she pointed to the ride.

Y/N hesitated. “Really? Isn’t it kind of... slow?”

“That’s the point,” Aeri replied, tugging on Y/N’s arm. “It’s a classic. Plus, the view at the top is unbeatable.”

Before Y/N could protest further, Aeri was already pulling her toward the line. It wasn’t long before they were climbing into one of the swinging gondolas, the carnival noise fading slightly as the ride operator secured the door.

As the wheel began its gentle ascent, Y/N found herself glancing nervously at the open sides of the gondola. “So, fun fact: I’m not the biggest fan of heights.”

Aeri smirked. “You’re afraid of heights, but you came to a carnival?”

“I didn’t plan to end up on a Ferris wheel,” Y/N retorted, gripping the edge of the seat.

“Relax,” Aeri said, her voice softer now. She placed a hand on Y/N’s arm. “It’s just a slow ride with a nice view. You’ll love it.”

The gondola swayed slightly as they reached the first stop, and Y/N sucked in a breath. Aeri chuckled but didn’t tease further, instead pointing out over the edge.

“Look,” she said. “You can see the whole carnival from here.”

Y/N followed her gaze. The scene below was breathtaking: a sea of colorful lights and bustling activity, the cheerful melodies of carnival music floating up to meet them. It was beautiful, almost surreal, and Y/N felt her tension ease slightly.

“Okay,” Y/N admitted. “It’s... pretty nice.”

“Told you,” Aeri said with a grin.

The ride continued its slow climb, the stops at each gondola giving them more time to take in the view. As they neared the top, the noise of the carnival grew faint, leaving them in a bubble of quiet punctuated by the creak of the Ferris wheel.

“Do you come to carnivals a lot?” Y/N asked, breaking the silence.

“Not as often as I’d like,” Aeri admitted, leaning back against the seat. “But when I do, I always end up on the Ferris wheel. There’s just something about it... I don’t know. It feels timeless.”

“Timeless?”

Aeri nodded, her gaze distant as she looked out over the carnival. “Yeah. Like, when you’re here, everything else disappears. The deadlines, the expectations, the chaos of real life—it all just... fades. It’s like stepping into a memory.”

Y/N watched her, the soft glow of the carnival lights reflecting in Aeri’s eyes. It was rare to see someone so unguarded, so honest.

“That’s... really beautiful,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aeri turned to her, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, feeling her cheeks warm. “I never thought of it that way before, but you’re right. It does feel like that.”

The gondola reached the very top of the wheel and paused, leaving them suspended high above the carnival. The view was stunning, the world below a patchwork of lights and movement.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence comfortable as they took in the scene.

“I think that’s why I like coming here,” Aeri said finally. “Because it’s a chance to just... be. No distractions, no expectations. Just the moment.”

Y/N nodded, her hands relaxing on the edge of the seat. “I get that. It’s hard to find that kind of peace sometimes.”

Aeri glanced at her, her expression softening. “Yeah. But tonight’s been nice. Meeting you, wandering around like this... it’s been a good escape.”

Y/N felt her heart skip at the sincerity in Aeri’s voice. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she settled for a small, grateful smile. “Same here.”

The gondola began its slow descent, the lights growing brighter as they neared the ground. Aeri leaned back, her playful demeanor returning as she said, “See? Survived the heights. Told you it wasn’t so bad.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Fine. You were right. But I’m not admitting it again.”

Aeri laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made Y/N’s chest feel lighter.

As the Ferris wheel came to a stop and they climbed out of the gondola, Y/N found herself wishing the ride had lasted a little longer. There was something about being up there, away from everything, that had felt... special.

“So,” Aeri said as they stepped back into the bustling carnival. “What’s next on the agenda, partner?”

Y/N glanced at her, a newfound sense of ease settling between them. “I guess we’ll just have to see where the night takes us.”

The carnival's game booths were alive with energy, shouts of excitement and groans of defeat blending into a symphony of playful chaos. Brightly colored signs promised impossible prizes—giant teddy bears, oversized giraffes, and a unicorn with glittering wings.

“Alright, we’re doing this,” Aeri declared, marching toward a booth with plastic rings and glass bottles.

Y/N followed, amused. “Do you even know how to play?”

“How hard can it be?” Aeri shot back, flashing a confident grin.

The booth attendant, a wiry man with a mischievous smile, handed Aeri a set of brightly colored rings. “The trick is all in the wrist,” he said, clearly enjoying the challenge in her determined expression.

Aeri squared her shoulders, her tongue peeking out in concentration as she aimed for the neck of a bottle. She tossed the first ring with dramatic flair, only to watch it bounce off the edge and clatter onto the counter.

“First try. Warm-up,” Aeri said quickly, brushing off the miss.

Y/N crossed her arms, suppressing a laugh. “Sure. Go ahead, pro.”

Aeri tossed the next ring, and then the next, each one missing spectacularly. One even managed to ricochet off a bottle and hit the booth attendant, who dodged with practiced ease.

Y/N couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. “Wow. You’re really bad at this.”

“I’m just building suspense,” Aeri replied, grabbing the last ring. “This is the one.”

She focused, her expression so serious that Y/N bit her lip to keep from laughing again. Aeri let the ring fly, and it wobbled through the air in slow motion before landing... nowhere near the bottles.

Aeri threw her hands up. “Rigged. Absolutely rigged.”

The booth attendant chuckled. “Want to try again?”

“Not a chance,” Aeri grumbled, stepping aside.

Y/N nudged her. “Move over, rookie. Let me show you how it’s done.”

Aeri raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you think you’re better?”

“Watch and learn,” Y/N said confidently, grabbing a new set of rings.

Her first toss landed perfectly around a bottle neck. The booth attendant clapped, and Y/N grinned, glancing at Aeri. “That’s how you do it.”

“Beginner’s luck,” Aeri muttered, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes.

Y/N landed another ring, and then another, each one precise and effortless. By the end of her turn, she had scored enough points for the grand prize.

“Alright, pick your prize,” the booth attendant said, gesturing to the wall of stuffed animals.

Y/N scanned the options, her eyes landing on a pastel pink bunny with floppy ears. She pointed at it, and the attendant handed it over with a smile.

Y/N turned to Aeri, holding out the bunny. “Here. A consolation prize for your, uh, impressive effort.”

Aeri stared at the bunny, her lips twitching as she tried not to laugh. “You’re giving me the prize you won? How generous.”

“I thought you could use the comfort after that embarrassing performance,” Y/N teased, her tone light.

Aeri accepted the bunny with exaggerated seriousness, cradling it like a treasured possession. “Thank you, Y/N. I’ll cherish it forever as a reminder of my crushing defeat.”

They both burst out laughing, the playful banter easing into a comfortable rhythm.

“Alright, hotshot,” Aeri said as they wandered away from the booth, the bunny tucked under her arm. “What’s your secret? Are you some kind of carnival game prodigy?”

Y/N shrugged. “What can I say? I have skills.”

Aeri rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Next game is mine. No way I’m letting you show me up again.”

“Oh, it’s on,” Y/N replied, her competitive streak flaring.

They spent the next hour hopping from booth to booth, challenging each other to every game they could find. Aeri’s luck didn’t improve much, but her commentary made each attempt funnier than the last.

“Did you see that? That dart was rigged,” she declared after missing a balloon for the fourth time.

“Sure it was,” Y/N teased, effortlessly popping three balloons in a row.

By the end of the night, Y/N was the undisputed champion, her arms full of small prizes—keychains, tiny plushies, and a random rubber duck she insisted was a must-have.

As they walked away from the booths, Aeri glanced at Y/N, her smile softening. “You’re really good at this, you know.”

“At carnival games? It’s hardly a life skill,” Y/N joked.

“No, I mean... you’re fun to be around,” Aeri said, her tone sincere. “Even when you’re destroying my ego.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, the playful banter giving way to a moment of quiet connection. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, loser.”

Aeri chuckled, bumping Y/N’s shoulder lightly. “Just wait. I’ll win the next one.”

“Keep dreaming,” Y/N shot back, her heart feeling lighter than it had all night.

They continued through the carnival, the bunny and rubber duck swinging in their hands, the lights around them glowing brighter than ever.

The flashing lights of the carnival reflected off the surface of a meandering water ride, its log-shaped boats bobbing along a winding track. The distant sound of cheerful screams from the steep drop was enough to make Y/N hesitate as they approached.

“You seriously want to do this?” Y/N asked, eyeing the ride.

Aeri, already marching toward the line, turned back with a mischievous grin. “What’s the matter? Afraid of a little splash?”

“It’s not the splash I’m worried about,” Y/N muttered, following reluctantly.

The line moved quickly, and soon they were climbing into a log-shaped boat. Y/N settled into the front seat, the slightly damp bench hinting at what was to come. Aeri slid in behind her, her knees bumping into Y/N’s back as she adjusted.

“Ready?” Aeri asked, her voice tinged with excitement.

“Not really,” Y/N replied, gripping the sides of the boat as it jolted forward.

The ride started slowly, the boat gliding along a gentle current. Colorful lights from nearby attractions danced on the water, and for a moment, it was almost serene.

“This isn’t so bad,” Y/N admitted, relaxing slightly.

Aeri leaned forward, resting her chin on Y/N’s shoulder. “Don’t get too comfortable. The big drop is coming.”

Y/N turned her head, their faces suddenly close. Aeri’s teasing smile was inches away, and Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. Before she could say anything, the boat rounded a corner, revealing the towering incline ahead.

“Oh no,” Y/N whispered, her grip tightening on the boat.

The chain lift clanked loudly as the boat began its ascent, the anticipation building with each jarring lurch upward. Aeri leaned back, clearly enjoying the suspense.

“Still not scared?” Aeri teased.

Y/N glared over her shoulder. “I’m regretting my life choices, if that counts.”

As the boat reached the peak, they had a split second to take in the view—the carnival lights sprawling out below them, the laughter and music blending into a chaotic melody. Then, with a sudden lurch, the boat tipped forward.

Y/N screamed as they plummeted down the drop, the cold spray of water hitting them head-on. Aeri’s laughter echoed behind her, mingling with Y/N’s startled shrieks.

When the boat leveled out, Y/N wiped her face, sputtering. “Oh my God, I’m soaked!”

Aeri, equally drenched, burst into uncontrollable laughter. “You should see your face right now!”

Y/N turned to glare at her but couldn’t hold back her own laughter as she saw Aeri’s hair plastered to her forehead, water dripping from her nose. “You don’t look much better!”

As the boat drifted into the next section of the ride, a smaller splash doused them again. Y/N groaned. “This was a terrible idea.”

“No way,” Aeri said, still laughing. “This is the best idea we’ve had all night.”

The ride continued with more twists and turns, each one sending small waves of water splashing over them. By the time they reached the end, both of them were completely soaked, their clothes clinging uncomfortably to their skin.

They stumbled off the ride, dripping water onto the pavement. Aeri shook her head, sending droplets flying everywhere.

“Hey!” Y/N protested, shielding her face. “You’re making it worse!”

Aeri grinned, unrepentant. “You’re already wet. What’s a little more water?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, wringing out the hem of her shirt. “We should’ve brought a change of clothes.”

“Noted for next time,” Aeri said, her tone casual but her words laced with suggestion.

Y/N’s heart skipped at the implication. She ducked her head, trying to hide her growing smile. “Let’s just find something dry to sit on before I catch hypothermia.”

They wandered toward a nearby bench, the cold night air making them shiver. Aeri plopped down first, pulling her jacket around her shoulders despite it being just as wet as the rest of her.

Y/N hesitated, eyeing the bench. “This is going to make it worse.”

“Suit yourself,” Aeri said, patting the spot beside her. “But if you stand there any longer, you’ll look even more ridiculous.”

With a sigh, Y/N sat down, immediately regretting it as the damp fabric of her jeans pressed against the cold wood.

“See?” Aeri teased. “Not so bad.”

“Speak for yourself,” Y/N grumbled, but she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up as Aeri pulled out her phone and tried to check her reflection in the screen.

“Do I still look cute, or has this ride ruined my reputation?” Aeri asked dramatically.

Y/N snorted. “You look like a drowned rat.”

“Harsh,” Aeri said, clutching her chest in mock offense. “But fair.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the sounds of the carnival filling the air around them. Despite the cold and the damp clothes, Y/N felt an unexpected warmth, a sense of ease that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Thanks for convincing me to go on that ride,” Y/N said softly.

Aeri looked over, her expression softening. “It was worth it, wasn’t it?”

Y/N met her gaze, the glow of the carnival lights reflecting in Aeri’s eyes. She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. It was.”

The moment lingered, the noise of the carnival fading into the background. Then Aeri’s stomach growled loudly, breaking the spell.

“Alright,” Aeri said, standing up and stretching. “Let’s find some hot chocolate before we freeze to death.”

Y/N laughed, standing to follow her. “Good idea. And maybe a towel, if we’re lucky.”

As they walked away from the ride, their wet shoes squelching with every step, Y/N couldn’t help but think that, for all the chaos, this was turning into one of the best nights she’d ever had.

The main path of the carnival was a cacophony of colors and sounds, bustling with people moving in every direction. Strings of glowing bulbs crisscrossed overhead, bathing the scene in warm, vibrant light. Laughter and music blended with the occasional excited shrieks from the rides, creating a symphony of joyful chaos.

Y/N tugged at the sleeve of her damp jacket, glancing around in mild frustration. “Okay, we came from that direction, right?” She pointed vaguely toward a food stall selling oversized turkey legs.

Aeri tilted her head, her dark hair still damp from the log flume, and squinted at the path ahead. “Nope. That’s where we went to get cotton candy. You’re officially terrible at this.”

Y/N groaned, throwing her hands up. “Why are carnivals so confusing? It’s like a maze with too many distractions!”

Aeri smirked, shoving her hands into the pockets of her slightly wrinkled bomber jacket. “Maybe the distractions aren’t so bad.”

Y/N turned to her, narrowing her eyes. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.” Aeri’s grin was unapologetic.

The crowd surged around them, groups of friends and families moving toward various attractions, the air thick with the scent of fried food and sugary treats. Y/N tried to focus on finding their way back to the Ferris wheel, where they’d last seen Aeri’s friends, but the sheer volume of people made it impossible to orient herself.

“This is hopeless,” Y/N muttered, coming to a stop near a balloon vendor. “We’ll never find anyone in this crowd.”

“Hopeless?” Aeri leaned against a nearby lamppost, her posture relaxed. “We’ve been lost together all night, and you’re only just realizing that now?”

Y/N shot her a playful glare. “I was holding onto some optimism. Sue me.”

Aeri chuckled and pushed off the lamppost, coming to stand beside Y/N. “Look, worst-case scenario, we wander around until everything closes. Could be worse.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “How is that not a worst-case scenario?”

Aeri gave her a pointed look. “Because we’re lost together. And honestly? I don’t mind that so much.”

The words, delivered with casual sincerity, caught Y/N off guard. She felt a warmth rise to her cheeks, and she quickly turned away, pretending to scan the crowd. “You’re too smooth for your own good, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” Aeri shrugged, the corners of her mouth tugging upward. “Now, do we keep wandering aimlessly, or do we make the best of it?”

Y/N sighed, a smile tugging at her own lips despite her best efforts to seem exasperated. “Fine. Let’s make the best of it. But you’re not allowed to mock my terrible sense of direction anymore.”

“No promises,” Aeri teased, nudging Y/N’s shoulder with her own.

They continued walking, weaving through the throngs of people. Aeri led the way this time, though she didn’t seem any more certain of their route than Y/N. Still, there was something oddly comforting about following her, as if Aeri’s confidence made the chaos of the carnival feel less overwhelming.

Every so often, Aeri would point out something interesting—a kid excitedly clutching an enormous stuffed bear, a couple attempting to share an oversized pretzel, or a particularly elaborate face painting stand. Y/N found herself laughing more often than not, the stress of being lost fading into the background.

At one point, they stopped at a small fountain tucked away from the main path. The water glimmered under the carnival lights, and the surrounding benches offered a brief respite from the bustling crowd.

“This is nice,” Y/N admitted, sitting down and stretching her legs.

Aeri sat beside her, leaning back on her hands. “See? Getting lost has its perks.”

Y/N glanced over at her, unable to hide a smile. “You’re really leaning into this whole ‘making the best of it’ thing, huh?”

“It’s kind of my thing,” Aeri said with a wink.

They fell into a comfortable silence, the hum of the carnival serving as their backdrop. Y/N found herself stealing glances at Aeri, taking in the way her eyes sparkled under the lights, her expression relaxed yet alert. It was a stark contrast to the chaos around them, as if Aeri had a way of grounding herself no matter where she was.

“You’re staring,” Aeri said suddenly, not looking away from the fountain.

Y/N startled, her face heating up. “I was not!”

“Were too.” Aeri finally turned to face her, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

Y/N crossed her arms, trying to regain her composure. “Maybe I was just admiring the fountain.”

“Sure,” Aeri said, clearly unconvinced but willing to let it slide.

The moment hung between them, unspoken but not unnoticed. Y/N felt her heart race, the atmosphere suddenly charged with something she couldn’t quite define.

Before she could dwell on it, Aeri stood and offered a hand. “Come on. We’ve got more aimless wandering to do.”

Y/N hesitated, then took her hand, letting Aeri pull her to her feet. “You’re ridiculously good at this, you know?”

“Good at what?”

“Making being lost feel like an adventure.”

Aeri’s grin widened, her fingers lingering in Y/N’s for a moment longer than necessary. “Guess I’m just full of surprises.”

The carousel glowed like a beacon in the night, its swirling lights painting soft trails of gold, red, and blue across the dark sky. Delicate music floated through the air, blending with the background hum of laughter and chatter. Y/N and Aeri stood at the edge of the ride, observing the spinning horses and ornate chariots.

“I can’t remember the last time I was on a carousel,” Y/N admitted, hands tucked into her jacket pockets.

Aeri tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “What, too grown-up for a bit of whimsy?”

“I didn’t say that!” Y/N defended, though the way she avoided Aeri’s playful gaze said otherwise.

“Sure you didn’t.” Aeri smirked and nodded toward the ticket collector. “Come on, let’s ride it.”

Before Y/N could protest, Aeri was already pulling out two tickets, her confidence leaving no room for debate. Y/N sighed but followed, a small smile creeping onto her face.

The ride operator, a grizzled man with a surprisingly gentle demeanor, gestured for them to choose their seats. Aeri immediately gravitated toward a sleek black horse with a silver mane, while Y/N hesitated before selecting a white horse beside it.

As the ride started, the carousel began its gentle rotation, the horses rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Y/N gripped the pole in front of her, watching the world blur into streaks of color.

“This is actually kind of nice,” Y/N admitted, her voice raised slightly over the tinkling carousel music.

Aeri turned to her, leaning one elbow casually against the pole of her horse. “Told you. Sometimes you just have to let yourself enjoy the little things.”

Y/N glanced at her, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down. Aeri’s face, illuminated by the carousel lights, was almost mesmerizing. There was something about her relaxed confidence, the way she seemed completely at ease, that made Y/N’s chest tighten.

“You’re really good at this whole ‘making everything fun’ thing,” Y/N said, trying to keep her tone light.

Aeri’s lips curved into a sly smile. “What can I say? I’m good company.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been called worse,” Aeri teased, shifting slightly on her horse so she could face Y/N more directly.

The carousel continued its steady rotation, the music softening slightly as the ride began to reach its midpoint. The atmosphere felt oddly intimate, as if the blur of the carnival outside had faded away, leaving just the two of them in their own little world.

Aeri tilted her head, her gaze steady and curious. “You know, you’re different from what I expected.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Different how?”

“Just… different.” Aeri shrugged, but her expression was thoughtful. “Most people I meet are either trying too hard or not trying at all. But you? You’re just… you. It’s refreshing.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, and she quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the carousel’s ornate decorations. “That’s a weird compliment, but I’ll take it.”

“It’s not weird,” Aeri said, her tone softer now. “It’s honest.”

The words hung between them, heavier than Y/N expected. She risked a glance at Aeri, and the look in her eyes made Y/N’s stomach flip. There was something unspoken there, something that made her heart race and her palms sweat.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aeri leaned closer, her smile turning playful but her eyes still serious. “Because I’m wondering when you’re going to admit you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

Y/N’s breath caught, her mind racing for a response. “I—what?”

“You heard me.” Aeri’s smile widened, but there was a tenderness to it now, a vulnerability that Y/N hadn’t seen before. “You’ve been smiling all night, even when we were completely lost. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Because Aeri was right—she had been smiling. Despite the chaos, the confusion, and the unexpectedness of it all, she’d been happier tonight than she had in a long time.

“Okay, fine,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely audible over the carousel music. “Maybe I’m enjoying myself. A little.”

Aeri laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

The ride began to slow, the horses descending to their starting positions. Y/N felt a pang of disappointment, wishing they had just a little more time.

As the carousel came to a stop, Aeri slid off her horse with an easy grace, extending a hand to help Y/N down. Y/N hesitated for a moment before taking it, her heart skipping a beat at the warmth of Aeri’s touch.

“Thanks,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Anytime,” Aeri replied, her smile soft but unreadable.

They stepped off the ride together, the vibrant chaos of the carnival rushing back in around them. But for Y/N, it felt like the world had shifted somehow, as if the carousel ride had marked the beginning of something she didn’t quite understand yet.

“So,” Aeri said, her tone lighter now, “what’s next? Another ride? More cotton candy?”

Y/N laughed, her nervousness fading into the background. “How about you let me decide for once?”

“Deal.” Aeri’s grin was teasing but genuine, her eyes sparkling under the carnival lights.

As they walked away from the carousel, Y/N couldn’t help but glance back at it, the lights and music fading into the distance. She didn’t know what was happening between her and Aeri, but for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid to find out.

The grassy hill just outside the carnival buzzed with quiet anticipation, families and couples sprawled on blankets as they waited for the fireworks to begin. Aeri and Y/N found a spot near the edge, slightly away from the crowd. The night air was cool, the faint hum of the carnival rides drifting up the hill along with bursts of laughter and chatter.

“This is a good spot,” Y/N said, plopping onto the grass and leaning back on her hands.

Aeri sat down beside her, crossing her legs and glancing around. “Not bad. Though I’m starting to think you dragged me up here to escape.”

Y/N smirked. “Maybe I did. You’ve been hogging all the decision-making tonight.”

“Only because I’m better at it,” Aeri teased, nudging Y/N’s shoulder playfully.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. The sky above them was a deep navy, stars faintly visible against the encroaching haze of carnival lights. A cool breeze rustled the grass, carrying the faint scent of popcorn and cotton candy.

“You ever watch fireworks like this before?” Y/N asked, tilting her head back to look at the sky.

Aeri leaned back as well, resting her weight on her hands. “Not in a while. The last time was probably when I was a kid. You?”

“Same.” Y/N’s voice softened. “It was at a fair like this one. My parents took me, and we watched the fireworks from the top of a Ferris wheel. It felt… magical, I guess.”

Aeri turned her head slightly to study Y/N’s profile. “You still believe in magic like that?”

Y/N shrugged, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “I don’t know. I think I want to.”

Before Aeri could reply, a sharp whistle pierced the air, followed by an explosion of light. The first firework bloomed in the sky, a brilliant burst of gold that faded into glittering sparks.

Y/N gasped softly, her eyes widening. “Wow.”

Aeri smiled, her attention split between the fireworks and Y/N’s reaction. “Yeah. Wow.”

The fireworks came in a steady rhythm, painting the sky with vibrant reds, blues, and greens. The hill fell into a hushed awe, save for the occasional murmur of children pointing out their favorite bursts.

Y/N’s gaze flickered to Aeri, who was completely engrossed in the display. The colors reflected in her eyes, and for a moment, Y/N forgot to breathe.

Aeri must have sensed the stare because she turned, catching Y/N mid-thought. “What?”

“Nothing,” Y/N said quickly, heat rushing to her cheeks. She looked back at the sky, silently cursing herself.

Aeri’s lips curved into a small smile, but she didn’t press. Instead, she shifted slightly closer, her shoulder brushing against Y/N’s.

“Can I ask you something?” Aeri’s voice was softer now, almost hesitant.

“Sure,” Y/N said, stealing a glance at her.

“Do you believe in fate?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Fate?”

“Yeah.” Aeri’s gaze dropped to the grass in front of her, her fingers idly plucking at a blade. “Like… things happening for a reason. People meeting because they’re supposed to.”

Y/N considered it, her brow furrowing. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it like that. Why?”

Aeri hesitated, her usual confidence replaced by a rare vulnerability. “I don’t know. Just feels like... tonight, for example. We were both lost, looking for someone, and somehow ended up spending the whole night together.” She glanced up, her eyes searching Y/N’s. “Doesn’t that feel a little... serendipitous?”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She opened her mouth to reply, but another firework exploded, casting a brilliant pink hue over the hill.

“I guess it does,” Y/N admitted finally, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the fireworks. “But maybe it’s just coincidence.”

Aeri tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s something more.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush again, and she quickly looked away, focusing on the fireworks. But even as she tried to dismiss Aeri’s words, the weight of them lingered.

Another burst of light lit up the sky, and Aeri turned her attention back to the display. “It’s okay if you don’t believe in it,” she said after a moment, her tone light but carrying an undercurrent of something deeper. “I just think… sometimes, things happen that we can’t explain. And maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away, her mind racing. She wanted to brush off Aeri’s words, to chalk it up to the magic of the carnival and the moment. But deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something different about tonight. About Aeri.

As the finale began, the fireworks bursting in rapid succession, Aeri leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m glad I bumped into you tonight, Y/N.”

Y/N turned to her, their faces inches apart. The world seemed to fade away, the vibrant chaos of the fireworks dimming in the background.

“Me too,” Y/N said softly, her chest tightening as she held Aeri’s gaze.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, they both looked back at the sky, the moment suspended between them like a delicate thread.

The fireworks ended in a brilliant crescendo, the hill erupting into applause. But Y/N barely heard it, her thoughts consumed by the woman sitting beside her and the strange, wonderful feeling blooming in her chest.

As the crowd began to disperse, Aeri stood, brushing off her jeans. “Come on. Let’s see what else this carnival has to offer.”

Y/N followed, her heart still racing as she fell into step beside Aeri. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

The carnival’s food court was alive with the sounds of sizzling grills, laughter, and the occasional shout from a vendor advertising their fried delights. The air was thick with the smell of roasted corn, sweet churros, and salty pretzels.

Y/N balanced a tray of food in her hands as she weaved through the maze of picnic tables. She spotted Aeri sitting at a corner table, her chin resting on her palm as she lazily scrolled through her phone.

“Alright, feast time,” Y/N declared, setting the tray down with a grin.

Aeri looked up, her face lighting up at the sight of the food. “Finally. I was starting to think you’d gotten lost again.”

“Very funny.” Y/N plopped down across from her, grabbing a churro. “I was just making sure we had enough options. You’re welcome.”

Aeri surveyed the tray: a mountain of nachos, two corn dogs, a funnel cake, and a pile of churros. “Did you order the whole menu?”

“Hey, you don’t survive carnival nights on an empty stomach.” Y/N bit into her churro, powdered sugar dusting her lips. “Besides, it’s all part of the experience.”

Aeri laughed, grabbing a corn dog. “I’m not complaining.”

They ate in companionable silence for a while, the hum of the food court and the distant sounds of carnival rides filling the space between them.

“So,” Y/N said, breaking the quiet, “do you go to carnivals often? You seem… oddly at home here.”

Aeri smirked. “What, because I’m good at navigating and making decisions?”

“Because you’re good at being bossy,” Y/N shot back playfully.

Aeri chuckled, twirling her corn dog like a microphone. “Well, if you must know, I actually love carnivals. Always have. My family used to go every summer when I was a kid. It was the one time everyone seemed… happy.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in Aeri’s tone. “Not a lot of happy times otherwise?”

Aeri shrugged, her eyes dropping to the table. “Not exactly. My parents were always busy, and when they weren’t, they were arguing. But at the carnival, it was different. It was like stepping into another world where nothing else mattered. Just the lights, the rides, the laughter…” She trailed off, her gaze distant.

Y/N leaned forward, her voice soft. “That sounds… bittersweet.”

Aeri nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. But it’s why I still love coming here. It’s like chasing a little piece of that happiness, you know?”

Y/N’s chest tightened. She’d spent most of the night teasing Aeri, but this glimpse of vulnerability caught her off guard. “I get it,” she said quietly. “Sometimes it’s nice to escape for a while.”

Aeri looked up, her eyes meeting Y/N’s. “What about you? What’s your story, carnival expert?”

Y/N hesitated, chewing on her lip. “My family wasn’t really the carnival type. But my friends and I used to come every summer when we were kids. It was kind of our tradition. Now that we’re older, it’s harder to get everyone together. That’s why I was so determined to find them tonight.”

“Yet here you are,” Aeri said, smirking. “Stuck with me instead.”

Y/N laughed. “You’re not the worst company.”

“High praise,” Aeri teased, but her smile softened. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad I bumped into you tonight.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She looked down at her churro, suddenly very interested in the powdered sugar. “Yeah, me too.”

The conversation lulled as they finished their food, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that felt easy, like they’d known each other for longer than just a few hours.

As Aeri polished off the last of the nachos, she leaned back in her chair, her eyes flicking to Y/N. “You know, this might be the best carnival I’ve been to in years.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow. “Because of the churros?”

Aeri grinned. “Because of you.”

Y/N froze, her cheeks heating up. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, she laughed nervously, reaching for the funnel cake to avoid Aeri’s gaze.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” Aeri said, her tone teasing but her eyes warm.

“I’m not shy,” Y/N muttered, tearing off a piece of funnel cake.

“Sure, you’re not.” Aeri’s smirk widened, and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “You’re kind of cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

Y/N nearly choked on her bite of funnel cake, earning a laugh from Aeri. “Stop teasing me!”

“Can’t help it,” Aeri said, her laugh fading into a soft smile. “You’re fun to be around, Y/N.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. “You’re not so bad yourself, Aeri.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the noise of the food court fading into the background. Y/N felt a strange mix of nervousness and excitement, like she was standing on the edge of something she couldn’t quite define.

Then, Aeri broke the silence with a grin. “So, what’s next on the carnival adventure?”

Y/N exhaled, grateful for the shift back to lighter territory. “How about we try that ring toss again? I need to redeem myself after you beat me at the dart game.”

“Deal,” Aeri said, standing and grabbing the empty tray. “But don’t cry when I win this time.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her smile as they left the food court.

The haunted house loomed before them, its facade painted with cartoonishly spooky scenes: grinning skeletons, howling ghosts, and jack-o’-lanterns with sinister smirks. The ride’s creaking sound effects played on a loop, interspersed with high-pitched screams that were either part of the attraction or real terror from past riders.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Aeri asked, her tone light but her smirk teasing.

Y/N squared her shoulders, feigning confidence. “Please. A couple of fake cobwebs and rubber spiders? I’ve seen scarier TikToks.”

Aeri laughed, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, fearless leader. Lead the way.”

They handed their tickets to the ride operator, who cackled in an over-the-top witchy voice, ushering them into a narrow corridor lit by flickering bulbs. The door creaked shut behind them, plunging them into dim light and eerie silence.

Y/N took a steadying breath. It’s all fake. Totally fake. No reason to freak out.

But as they stepped further into the ride, the air grew colder, and the sound of distant chains rattling made Y/N’s bravado falter. Aeri walked beside her, her hands in her pockets, looking completely unbothered.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Aeri said, glancing at her.

“I’m taking in the, uh, ambiance,” Y/N replied, her voice higher than she intended.

“Right.” Aeri’s smirk was audible.

Suddenly, a figure lunged out from the shadows—a ghoul with glowing red eyes and tattered clothes. Y/N let out a shriek and instinctively grabbed Aeri’s arm, holding on for dear life.

Aeri burst out laughing. “Ambiance, huh?”

“That was cheap!” Y/N protested, still clinging to her. “It jumped out of nowhere!”

“It’s literally its job,” Aeri teased, prying Y/N’s fingers loose only for Y/N to grab onto her other arm instead.

The path twisted and turned through narrow hallways and fake graveyards. Animatronic zombies groaned and reached out, while eerie whispers played from hidden speakers. Every time something jumped out, Y/N yelped and latched onto Aeri, who seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.

“I thought you weren’t scared,” Aeri said, her voice lilting with amusement.

“I’m not scared,” Y/N insisted, her grip tightening as a skeleton swung down from the ceiling.

“Of course not,” Aeri said, biting back a laugh. “You’re just... testing my reflexes?”

“Exactly,” Y/N said, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

As they turned a corner, the hallway suddenly filled with fog, and a distorted laugh echoed through the space. A dark figure emerged, holding what looked like a chainsaw.

“Okay, nope,” Y/N said, spinning on her heel, but Aeri caught her by the shoulders.

“Relax,” Aeri said, her voice calm but laced with humor. “It’s fake, remember?”

Y/N nodded quickly, trying to calm her racing heart. “Right. Totally fake.”

But when the chainsaw revved, Y/N let out another startled cry and practically jumped into Aeri’s arms.

Aeri couldn’t hold back her laughter anymore. “Oh my god, you’re adorable.”

Y/N, face buried in Aeri’s shoulder, groaned. “Stop laughing! This is terrifying!”

“You’re clinging to me like a koala,” Aeri teased, her arms wrapping loosely around Y/N for balance. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Y/N pulled back just enough to glare at her, though her cheeks were bright red. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“I am,” Aeri said, her grin softening into something more affectionate. “But seriously, you’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Y/N blinked at her, the sincerity in Aeri’s voice momentarily distracting her from the spooky surroundings. “You... do?”

“Of course,” Aeri said, giving her a gentle squeeze before stepping back. “Now, let’s get out of here before you faint.”

They navigated the rest of the haunted house, Y/N sticking close to Aeri despite her earlier bravado. By the time they reached the exit, the fresh night air was a welcome relief.

Y/N let out a deep breath. “I survived. Barely.”

“Barely is right,” Aeri said, holding back another laugh.

“Alright, make fun of me all you want,” Y/N said, crossing her arms. “But I don’t see you volunteering to go back in there.”

“That’s because I already proved how brave I am,” Aeri replied smoothly.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Thanks for... you know, putting up with me in there.”

“Anytime,” Aeri said, her tone light but her eyes warm. “I mean it. I’ve got you.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the words, and for a moment, she thought the haunted house had been worth it after all.

The sound of soft, lively music floated through the night air as they wandered past a section of the carnival that seemed quieter, almost tucked away from the main attractions. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed above a modest wooden dance floor, casting a warm, inviting glow over the scene. A small band played upbeat tunes on a raised platform nearby, their cheerful melodies drawing in couples and groups alike.

Y/N paused, taking in the sight of people swaying and spinning to the rhythm, their laughter mingling with the music. “I didn’t realize there was dancing here,” she said, more to herself than to Aeri.

Aeri, standing beside her, followed Y/N’s gaze, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “You like dancing?”

Y/N shrugged, shoving her hands into her pockets. “I mean... I’m not terrible at it. Why?”

Before Y/N could process what was happening, Aeri extended a hand toward her, an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes. “Let’s find out.”

Y/N blinked, glancing from Aeri’s hand to her face. “Oh, no. I don’t—”

“Come on,” Aeri coaxed, taking a small step closer. “You survived a haunted house. What’s a little dancing?”

Y/N hesitated, her cheeks flushing. “You’re really not giving me a choice, are you?”

“Not even a little,” Aeri replied with a grin, reaching out to gently grab Y/N’s hand and tug her toward the dance floor.

The music shifted to a jaunty swing tune, and Aeri’s confidence was almost contagious as she led them into the crowd. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as Aeri started moving, her steps surprisingly fluid and sure.

“You didn’t tell me you could dance,” Y/N said, trying to keep up.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Aeri replied, spinning Y/N suddenly, eliciting a surprised yelp that turned into laughter.

The playful energy between them mirrored the upbeat tempo of the music. Y/N felt her earlier nervousness fade as they moved together, Aeri’s effortless charm making it impossible not to have fun.

But then the band transitioned into a slower song, and the dancers around them began to pair off, swaying gently to the more romantic rhythm.

Y/N stepped back instinctively. “We should, um, sit this one out—”

Aeri caught her hand before she could retreat, her expression softening. “Stay.”

Y/N looked up at her, the world around them blurring slightly as the moment stretched. “Aeri, I’m not sure I—”

“Just follow my lead,” Aeri said quietly, her tone soothing.

Before Y/N could protest, Aeri slid one hand to her waist and held her other hand firmly but gently, guiding her into the simple, swaying rhythm of the music.

The sounds of the carnival seemed to fade, leaving only the band’s melody and the warmth of Aeri’s presence. Y/N stumbled once, laughing nervously. “Sorry, I’m not—”

“You’re fine,” Aeri interrupted, her voice steady and reassuring.

They moved in small, easy steps, the space between them narrowing as they grew more comfortable. Y/N found herself looking up at Aeri, her heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the dancing.

“You’re good at this,” Y/N said softly, her voice almost lost beneath the music.

“I’ve had practice,” Aeri admitted with a small smile. “But it’s different with you.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed slightly. “Different how?”

Aeri hesitated, her usual confidence faltering for just a moment. “It feels... easier. Like it’s supposed to be this way.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, the sincerity in Aeri’s voice catching her off guard. She didn’t know how to respond, so she focused instead on the feeling of Aeri’s hand on her waist, the warmth radiating between them, and the way Aeri’s eyes seemed to hold hers with unspoken meaning.

The song wound to a gentle close, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The applause from the other dancers barely registered as Aeri stepped back, her hand lingering in Y/N’s.

“See?” Aeri said, her grin returning. “You’re not terrible at dancing.”

Y/N laughed softly, the tension easing as she rolled her eyes. “Thanks, I guess.”

Aeri tilted her head, studying Y/N with an expression that was both playful and serious. “You know, if we don’t find your friends tonight, I wouldn’t mind being stuck with you a little longer.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the casual way Aeri said it, though her cheeks heated at the implication. She couldn’t find the words to respond, so she just nodded, her fingers still loosely entwined with Aeri’s.

The carnival had started to quiet down as the night stretched on, but the lively hum of the attractions persisted, casting a dreamy atmosphere over the dwindling crowd. Aeri and Y/N wandered along the path, their steps naturally falling into sync. The glow of neon lights reflected in their smiles as they stumbled upon a photo booth tucked near the edge of the fairgrounds.

“Oh, we have to do this,” Aeri declared, her eyes lighting up at the sight.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, laughing. “Really? Isn’t that kind of cliché?”

“Exactly,” Aeri replied, grabbing Y/N’s wrist and tugging her toward the booth. “That’s what makes it fun. Besides, we need souvenirs to remember this ridiculous night.”

Y/N chuckled, letting herself be pulled along. “Fine, but if the machine eats our money, I’m blaming you.”

The booth was a charming relic of the past, its paint chipped but the flashing “Photos Here!” sign still inviting. Aeri slipped into the cramped space first, patting the spot next to her. “Come on, let’s make it good.”

Y/N hesitated before squeezing into the booth, her shoulder brushing against Aeri’s in the tight space. The proximity made her pulse quicken, but she tried to play it cool.

Aeri leaned forward to inspect the screen. “Okay, we’ve got four shots. Let’s make them count.”

The countdown began, and they jumped into action:

First shot: They made exaggerated peace signs, their faces scrunched into ridiculous expressions.

Second shot: Aeri crossed her eyes, and Y/N stuck her tongue out, both bursting into laughter right as the camera flashed.

Third shot: Aeri pretended to hold a serious pose, but Y/N nudged her at the last second, catching her mid-laugh.

As the fourth countdown began, Aeri’s laughter faded, replaced by an unreadable expression. She turned slightly, her eyes locking onto Y/N’s, the carnival lights outside casting a kaleidoscope of colors across their faces.

“What?” Y/N asked softly, her voice barely audible over the distant hum of carnival noise.

The timer beeped.

And then Aeri leaned in.

Her lips found Y/N’s in a heartbeat, the kiss igniting like a spark against the night’s cool air. It was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but when Y/N didn’t pull away—when Y/N kissed her back—it deepened into something magnetic.

The flash went off, capturing the moment perfectly: two silhouettes lost in each other amidst the chaos of the carnival.

When the camera stopped, they didn’t. The kiss lingered, a tangle of shared breath and unspoken feelings that had been building all night. Y/N’s hand instinctively reached for Aeri’s shoulder, steadying herself as her mind spun.

Finally, they pulled apart, both breathing heavily, their foreheads nearly touching. Y/N opened her mouth to say something, but words felt useless.

Aeri was the first to speak, her lips curling into a smug but tender smile. “So, still think this is cliché?”

Y/N blinked, her cheeks flushed as her lips curved into a small, dazed smile. “No. Not even close.”

The machine whirred, spitting out the photo strip. Aeri grabbed it, glancing at the frames before holding it up with a victorious grin.

“This one’s definitely going on my wall,” she teased, pointing to the last frame of their kiss.

Y/N snatched it from her hand, laughing despite herself. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, you haven’t walked away.” Aeri’s voice softened, her confidence taking on a gentler edge. “You’re not going to, are you?”

Y/N looked at her, at the girl who had turned a lost night into something unforgettable. “Not a chance,” she said, her voice steady but warm.

Aeri grinned, her hand slipping into Y/N’s as they stepped out of the booth, the photo strip tucked safely into Y/N’s pocket.

“Good,” Aeri said, pulling Y/N closer as they wandered back into the carnival.

The carnival lights cast a dreamlike glow over the grounds, their vibrant hues reflecting in the puddles left by an earlier drizzle. The crowd had thinned, leaving behind only the most dedicated visitors. Y/N and Aeri meandered through the maze of closing booths and dimming rides, their search for their friends feeling more like an excuse to linger together than an actual goal.

“They’re probably halfway home by now,” Y/N said with a sigh, though her tone lacked conviction.

“No way,” Aeri replied confidently. “My friends wouldn’t leave without me. They’d want to see how I embarrassed myself first.”

Y/N laughed, brushing her hand through her hair. “What makes you think you embarrassed yourself?”

“Oh, please. I’m soaking wet from the log flume, lost a cotton candy eating contest, and I was thoroughly humiliated at the dart game. I’m a walking disaster tonight.”

Y/N glanced at her, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You were also great company.”

Aeri looked at her, the carnival lights catching in her eyes. “So were you.”

Before Y/N could respond, a shout interrupted the moment.

“Y/N!”

Y/N turned toward the voice, spotting a group of familiar figures running toward them. Minji led the pack, her long coat flapping behind her, followed by Hanni, Danielle, Haerin, and Hyein.

“Oh my god, you’re okay!” Danielle said, relief clear in her voice as she reached Y/N first and wrapped her in a tight hug.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Minji said, her hands on her hips, a mix of worry and exasperation on her face. “What happened?”

Before Y/N could explain, another voice cut through the air.

“Aeri!”

From the opposite direction, Aeri’s friends appeared, making a beeline toward her. Jimin led the charge, followed by Minjeong, who still carried her oversized stuffed bear, and Yizhuo, holding what seemed to be her fifteenth snack of the night.

“There you are,” Jimin said, her tone more teasing than scolding. “We thought you’d gone AWOL.”

“I told you she was fine,” Minjeong said, adjusting the stuffed bear. “She always lands on her feet.”

“Or on someone else’s,” Yizhuo added with a smirk, her gaze flicking to Y/N.

Suddenly, the two groups collided, their respective members eyeing one another with a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Who’s this?” Minji asked, her gaze sharp as she looked Aeri up and down.

“Y/N’s new friend, apparently,” Hanni said, raising an eyebrow.

“And who are they?” Jimin asked, gesturing to Y/N’s friends with a curious tilt of her head.

“They’re my friends,” Y/N said quickly, stepping between the two groups before things could get awkward. “And, uh, this is Aeri. We...kind of got lost together.”

“Lost?” Minji repeated, her eyes narrowing.

“Together?” Minjeong echoed, her smirk growing.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Y/N protested, her cheeks flushing.

“Oh, I’m definitely looking,” Hanni said, folding her arms as she glanced between Y/N and Aeri.

“Relax,” Aeri said, stepping closer to Y/N. “She’s been keeping me company all night. Actually, she’s the only reason I didn’t spend the last five hours wandering in circles.”

“That’s...weirdly sweet,” Haerin muttered, her quiet observation drawing laughter from both groups.

Yizhuo nudged Aeri with her elbow. “What she’s trying to say is she had fun. A lot of fun.”

“I could’ve said that myself,” Aeri muttered, shooting Yizhuo a glare.

“Oh, you totally could’ve,” Yizhuo replied innocently, “but we’d still be waiting.”

Hyein looked at Y/N with a mischievous grin. “So, Y/N, is this carnival your new favorite place now?”

Y/N groaned. “Not you too!”

The teasing continued, laughter and banter flying between both groups. Despite the chaos, there was an undeniable warmth in the air, a sense of shared understanding that left Y/N feeling unexpectedly grateful for the interruption.

Eventually, Jimin clapped her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention. “Alright, it’s late, and I, for one, am ready to go home. But before we do...” She turned to Y/N, a knowing glint in her eye. “You’re welcome to join us next time.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the invitation. “Next time?”

Aeri smirked, her confidence returning in full force. “Of course. Same time, same place, next weekend?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment before nodding, her smile growing. “Next weekend.”

As their friends began to scatter, Aeri leaned in close, her voice dropping so only Y/N could hear. “I meant what I said earlier. You made this night a lot better.”

Y/N’s heart raced, but she managed to reply, “So did you.”

Aeri pulled back, her smirk softening into something more genuine. “Good. Then it’s a date.”

[immortalbumblebee]

Chapter 19: Heart of Gold

Figured the Vander fandom could use a lil' treat right about now, so here's my gift to all of you! Fingers crossed for Act 3 tomorrow!

(Also yes, two updates in a single week. Points to me!)

THIS IS SMUT! 18+! MINORS DNI PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

Masterlist

“You hungry at all? Think we’ve got some leftovers I can warm up for y’.” He asks once you step through the threshold, shutting the door behind you. The apartment feels eerily empty without the others, despite the mountains of stuff that litter the floor space and every perceivable surface. But the homey warmth is welcomed after your bitterly cold walk home. You feel your cheeks begin to warm, sense coming back into them. You’ve hidden your hands in the large sleeves of Vander’s jacket, but still curl your fingers as warm blood begins to flow back into them.

You shake your head. “Maybe some water, if you don’t mind? And find where we put the bandages?” You ask. You’ll have to put fresh plasters on your injuries after your shower. 

“Of course!” Vander nods, and once the door lock clicks, he turns back to face you. He stands there for a moment, hands in his pockets and shuffling his weight from foot to foot, and looking down at you without saying anything. The air felt thick, charged, like something still hung between you, unresolved. So much so that it took you a solid moment to even realize you were doing much the same, just stupidly looking up at him. You found yourself wanting to say something, to bridge the space, but the words felt too small, too fragile. So, you just stood there. Time stretched, thick with everything that had been said, and everything that hadn’t. All that was left was the weight of your shared space, now too big for the both of you. The seconds slipped by, silent and heavy, until you weren’t sure if it was you or the room that was holding its breath. 

Finally, it’s Vander that speaks first, pulling the world back into motion. “You’re sure you’re alright?” It should be a simple question, but it feels like a lifeline thrown across a gap.

You shift, unknowingly taking a small step towards him, and the tension in your chest that you hadn’t even realized was there begins to lessen. You feel his gaze on you soften, but your own gaze is still absent-mindedly locked on his feet.

“I’m fine now,” you breathe out. Your voice barely more than a whisper. “Promise.” There was a long pause after that—no rush to fill the silence with anything else. But then he takes a step towards you, closing the physical space, and a gentle knuckle moves your chin up to meet his gaze. Something in his eyes—something raw, desperate—mesmerizes you and you suddenly can’t move your eyes away, locked in on the storming gray. 

Wordlessly, he extends his hand. You have to shove the sleeve of his jacket up your arm in order to meet his touch with your own, the large calloused hand easily enveloping yours. His thumb brushed over my knuckles once, twice, each touch like a promise, soft but knowing. Still silent, he lifts your hand to his lips. The warmth of his breath ghosts over your wrist before he pressed a soft kiss to the plaster, the touch lingering, gentle, reverent. Then, with gentle fingers, he opens your hand to press it against the warmth of his cheek. Despite your best attempts to keep your hands warm outside, the warmth of his cheek burns at the winter-bitten skin of your fingers, and his stubble brushes against the meat of your palm. 

His eyes closed, just for a moment, and in the stillness, there was something…but you couldn’t put a name to the feeling that filled that entryway to your shared apartment. Meditation? Thoughtfulness? A prayer? An apology? Whatever it was, you stayed, refusing to pull away but fighting the urge to bury yourself in his chest and stay there for an eternity. Thankfully, you don’t have to fight the urge for too long as he eventually does lower your hand, giving it one last, soft, reassuring squeeze before lowering it back to your side.

“I’ll get that water for you, Love.” He says with a smile, snapping you out of your daze. You couldn’t read the expression on his face. Somewhere between sad and thankful. “Go and wash up.” 

“Right.” You nod. Showering! Showering is good! In all your romantic kissy-faces to each other, you’d almost forgotten the reason you had been itching to return home so quickly. You quickly peel off his jacket, handing it back to him before bending down to unlace your boots. As you do, you’re quickly reminded of the coolness of your apartment as it hits your very exposed flesh all at once. Gods, you needed to get out of these fighting clothes. Would it be too dramatic to say you wanted to burn them? Maybe. But the thought still crossed your mind. 

The steam that wrapped around you was almost like a blanket, the warmth of the water a slow, soothing balm against your aching bones. The hot spray cascading from the top of your head, and pouring down your neck and over the skin of your back. Lazily, you’d lifted an arm and watched as the water washed away the dirt and grime from the past few hours, leaving behind murky trails as the droplets rolled down your skin. 

You shouldn’t be taking too long in the shower, you knew this. The boilers for your apartment building were old, and tended not to hold much hot water. But the minute you felt the heat seep into your muscles, you were hypnotized. Closing your eyes, you turned and let the water flow down your hair and into your face, the sound of rushing water drowning out any and all noise from the world outside. It hurts a little when the water hits your nose, shocking you out of your peace and making you step back away from the stream. 

Right, you think to yourself, your injuries. Had to work around those…

You look down at your damaged wrists, the raw, angry skin still tender from the rough treatment, and a small annoyance flickers in your chest. How are you supposed to wash your hair when you can’t even get soap in the wounds? Your fingers hover near the shampoo bottle, but your mind veers off, lost in a different memory. The shackles. You can almost feel the cold, unforgiving metal around your wrists again, the way they had bitten into your skin, rubbing it raw with every movement, tethering you in a way that was both physical and psychological. The sensation of being bound, unable to escape, floods your thoughts, and the anxiety tightens in your chest.

You breathe deeply, pushing the memories away as best you can. Your gaze shifts to the temperature dial of the shower, and your fingers flex, tentative, before flicking your wrist just so. The heat of the water rises, just a touch more, and as it hits your skin, it’s like a switch flips. The tension in your hands begins to ease, the deep ache in your muscles loosening, like a rusted hinge moving for the first time in ages after being oiled.

There’s a knock at the door that snaps you out of your thoughts, and you call out an invitation to come in. 

“Just wanted to check in,” Vander calls, “makin’ sure everything’s alright.”

You respond quickly, without even thinking. “Yup, I’m all good!” But another look at the shampoo bottle reminds you of your predicament. “...actually…could I ask a favour?” An uncomfortable feeling rises in your chest, the dread of having to depend on someone else for something so simple as washing your hair. 

The door clicks as Vander steps inside. “Of course, whatever you need.”

“I-” you exhale a sigh of annoyance, “I think I need help washing my hair. My wrists…”

You don’t need to say any more before Vander starts stripping himself of his clothes, the sound of rustling fabric and his belt hitting the tile floor. The rushing water is almost enough to drown out the self-deprecating thoughts that trickle into your mind, and the sound of your heartbeat skipping in your ears as he climbs in behind you. 

He doesn’t say anything at first, but you feel his hands on your body. His fingers swiping over the various discoloured bruises that now decorate your skin, some from Sevika, some from the Enforcers.  You can feel the weight of their gaze, full of care, but also something else—concern, maybe even guilt. “I promise, I’m fine.” You say as you turn around to face him, and his eyes immediately shift to your nose. You didn’t realize he was so close to you, your chests basically pressed to one another once you’ve turned to face him. “You and I both know I’ve been through worse.”  His eyebrows lift a little and he nods, muttering “fair enough,” as he detaches his hands and bends down to the shampoo he knows is yours. 

“I’m sorry to ask so much of you.” You blurt as he pours out the bottled liquid. But he just gives you a knowing look.

“It’s you, Doll,” he smiles, and you realize it’s the first genuine smile you’ve seen from him all night. “You could never ask too much of me.”

Your heart skips all over again.

As he begins working the shampoo into your hair, you find yourself leaning into the feel of his fingers. They’re a little awkward, clearly not used to doing this for someone else, but his touch feels heavenly as they rub into your scalp. Your eyes shut, but your hands latch onto his hips to help keep you steady. It doesn’t take him long to work the solution into your short-cut hair, and he ever so gently tilts your head back into the shower’s stream to wash it away.

“That cut to your nose’ll scar nicely.” He remarks as his hands keep busy in your strands.

“Like it?” You tentatively open one of your eyes and smirk. “At least my muzzle’s not quite as mashed as yours.”

He chuckles lowly. “We’re still young, Minnie. Give it a few more years, and we’ll see who’s talking. Besides,” he tips your head back up, but his hands stay entangled in your hair, “even with all the broken cartilage in the world, and every scar imaginable, you’re still gorgeous compared to my ugly mug.”

A heat rises through your chest that has absolutely nothing to do with the steaming shower, and suddenly, your retort about how much you hate that stupid nickname has vanished from your mind. Instead, you force a roll of your eyes and gently swat at his side with a scoff. 

“Oh fuck off, so not true.” 

“I think it is.” He smiles, his eyes locked on yours as a small smile pulls at his lips. “Besides, can’t blame a man for trying to flatter his girl.” 

Your eyebrows fly up into your hairline. “‘Yours’, huh?”

He hums in confirmation, his thumb brushing at the base of your skull. The touch sends a shiver down your spine, and your breath catches in your throat. He smirks as he confirms, “mine.” There’s no questioning tone or uncertainty, it’s matter-of-fact. Before you even have time to think of a proper response, he’s bending down to retrieve the soap. 

He rathers the bar in his hands, his eyes flickering back and forth up to yours, searching yours, as if asking for permission. The tension in the air is palpable, the space between you thick with hesitation. You nod, just once, barely, but it’s enough. He moves with practiced care, gently moving one sudsy hand to your shoulder. You can feel the bubbles wiping away the remnants of the grime and sweat, but you don’t move your eyes away from Vander. His, on the other hand, scans over every inch of you as he continues to move his hand over your skin. The moment his hands reach for your wrists, you flinch, instinctively pulling back, but he stops—just for a beat, letting you adjust, giving you a moment. His touch is careful, soft as he moves away from the tender wounds.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place. “I should have done something to stop them, to help you.”

You don’t say anything at first, letting him continue to work the soap into your torso. You can feel his hands pause for just a moment around your chest, almost out of habit, before continuing to slide over your sides. Then you lift your hands to his shoulders, stilling him. You search his expression, guilt coming up to the surface and written all over his furrowed brow. You’re looking for something, anything to indicate the right thing to say to him. But then you're moving to your tip-toes, and your hands are sliding around him, pulling his lips down to meet yours. 

Your lips are gentle. There’s no heat, no rush, to the kiss but he melts into it all the same. There’s a small, echoed, ‘thump’ as the soap falls to the floor of the shower and his hands encircle your waist. He’s gentle, careful, but pressed you into him. Not unsure or uncertain, just careful of the way your body moves with his touch.

Eventually, you pull away, but he refuses to let you go, and keeps the closeness between you even tighter as he gently presses his forehead to yours. You can feel his breath fanning over your face, and his strong grip keeping you firmly in place. The hot water from the shower streams down your back, and the combined heat from the steam and the shared warmth of his body radiating into both of you. When you do eventually separate, it’s only thanks to a firm hand on his chest that he lets you pull away.

“I think I can handle it from here.” You smile a little to yourself. “I’m 90% sure we’re about to run out of hot water, and I’d really rather that not happen while I’m in here. Is it okay if I meet you out there?”

There’s something like a low growl deep in his chest, and he pulls you in one more time, this time to press a gentle, tender kiss to your wet hair. One of your hands finds its way to his chest, the pads of your fingers tracing over the lines of his muscles appreciatively for a moment longer than strictly necessary before he takes a step back. 

“Take all the time you need, Love.” He smiles, squeezing your hand one final time before stepping out. You let him take your hand with him, until the very last moment before he disappears behind the curtain. 

As you predicted, it takes next to no time at all for you to finish washing up. You quickly dry off and dress in a much comfier set of clothes, but you’re still toweling off your hair as you step out of the bathroom and into the apartment at large. As you could have guessed, Vander’s sitting there, patiently, on the couch with a first aid kit on standby.

“You didn’t have to actually wait for me.” You explain. “And you really don’t have to help patch me back up.” 

“Oh, please,” Vander scoffs and waves you off, “you’ve patched me up plenty, it’s only right if I return the favour every once in a while.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, but take the spot next to him nonetheless, smiling as he grabs the antiseptic from the kit. His movements are calm, but a little unsure. Usually it’s him getting patched up, not the other way around. You watch him, the quiet comfort of their presence filling the space between you.

He focuses on your wrists first, his hands gentle as they begin cleaning and dressing your wounds. There’s no rush in the way he works, no sense of urgency, just the steady rhythm of their touch. The coolness of the ointment soothes your skin, and for a moment, you forget the discomfort, focusing instead on the simple act of being cared for. His fingers graze your arm as they adjust the bandage, warm and reassuring.

The silence between you isn’t heavy anymore. It’s easy, companionable, a shared moment of quiet that feels more like a pause than anything else. You lean back into the cushions, finally able to relax, the weight of the day starting to lift, if only for a little while. And in that space, with them beside you, you feel happily reassured, content even.

“You don’t have to apologize, you know.” You break the silence. His hands pause over the bandages for a moment, indicating he heard you, but his gaze doesn’t lift to meet yours. “You did help me. I’m assuming it wasn’t Silco’s idea to get my mom and Niya involved.”

He shrugs, wrapping the second bandage around your other wrist. “It was Silco who said that if we were seen anywhere topside, we’d get thrown in jail with you.” For such a large man, it was surprising when his voice was this small.

“He was probably right.” You nod, and lift your already-bandaged hand to cup his cheek. “But you still found a way to help me. What matters right now is that I’m safe, here with you, and everyone down here’s okay.”

He leans into your touch for a moment, shutting his eyes. He seems to be thinking to himself for a moment, then sighs, nods, and turns his attention back to bandaging you up. You drop your hand. 

“Suppose you’re right.” He mumbles, practically a whisper, and he looks up to give you a thankful smile. One you’re more than happy to return.

“When am I not?” 

To this, he can’t help but chuckle, and he gives you a knowing look, one that makes the air feel lighter, more peaceful. There’s something about his presence, the way he handles you with care, that feels grounding, even comforting. As he finishes with your wrist, he finally turns his attention to your nose. This one’s easy, shorter work, as he simply dabs on the last of the antiseptic and sticks a plaster to the bridge of your nose, just under your eye line. 

As he finishes tending to you, his hands remain steady, not moving away, not yet. He looks up at you, eyes soft, searching for a sign—anything that might let him know you're ready for him to pull away. But you don’t want him to. Instead, you happily let him move closer to you, his body pressing against yours as he captures your lips in a tender, passionate kiss. His arms wrap around you, pulling you in tightly as his mouth moves over yours, a mix of tenderness and hunger in his touch. Time seems to slow down as his mouth moves over yours, the kiss slow and languid, as if he wants to savor every moment. His hands gently caress your face, fingers tracing the outline of your jaw as he kisses you tenderly.

He takes his time, exploring your mouth with a gentle but firm tongue, mapping out every contour. He moves from your lips to your ears, his breath hot on your skin as he whispers sweet nothings, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the length of your neck that make your toes curl. Your hands snake around to the back of his head, your fingers gripping into his hair and successfully drawing out a moan from him. This makes you smirk, but you’re surprised when he quickly pulls his face away from you.

“When do you have to be at work?” He asks, voice husky but concern written on his face.

You shake your head. “I don’t, I booked today off in case the fight went sideways. You?”

His concern melts away into a gleeful smile, his arms enveloping your torso as he lifts you up with absolutely no effort, sitting back to lean against the arm of the couch and pulling you into his lap, your thighs straddling his. “Not until tonight.”

Gods bless!

You dip your face back to meet his lips again, letting a moan ring out at the contact. The kiss is slow and somewhat tentative at first, and it’s clear he wants to be gentle with you. But more and more as your kiss continues to deepen, he quickly becomes more confident until he inevitably dips his head back down to the crook of your neck. But he still moves slowly, taking his time to taste and touch, his mouth finding the sensitive spots on your neck, the hollow of your collarbone, and the slope of your shoulder. His mouth sears a path of pleasure as his hands continue to wander over your body, exploring every dip and curve. His stubble scratches you in the most delectable way. 

He worships you with his touch, as if he wants to memorize every inch of you, to commit the feel of your skin to his memory. It feels like every touch of his lips is your own personal heaven, your hand dropping to his shoulder and gripping, your chest heaving as your breath becomes more and more laboured. Damn this man, damn him and his memory of every little nerve ending in your body. 

As his hands move under the fabric of your shirt, you give him a silent nod of approval, letting him slide the material up and off your torso and not carrying where into the depths of your home he throws it. He pulls away, just for a moment, as his hands slide up and cup your breasts, his eyes scanning over every inch of you. “Best fuckin’ tits either side of the bridge, I swear to the Gods…” This makes you giggle a little, which only makes his smile grow even wider. 

“Shut up and kiss me again, idiot.” You laugh, using your magic to pull him in by the metal studs in his vest. He’s only too happy to follow orders, crashing his lips to yours once again.

Your hands run up his chest, helping him out of his vest and he thankfully takes the hint, pulling his shirt over his head. You take the moment to shimmy out of the pajama shorts you’d only just gotten dressed into as he begins to fiddle with his belt. It only takes a second for you to flick your finger, and the belt unloops itself and goes flying towards the bedroom. He gives you a knowing look.

“What?” You shrug as he resumes discarding his pants. “What’s the point of having these damn powers if I can’t use them, hm?”

“Lil’ trouble maker.” He tsk’s but very shortly pulls you right back to his lap.

His strong, muscular chest pressed up against your own, the feeling of skin against skin sending a wave of heat through both of you. He kisses you with a fervor and intensity that takes your breath away, his hands holding you tightly against him, as if he's scared to let you go. You feel as desired and wanted as you've ever been, every touch and kiss from him making you weak in the knees and stealing all rational thought from your mind. In all your years, you’ve never once felt quite as desired as you do with Vander. Similarly, it takes only a mere touch from him to make your knees weak and your mind go empty. Simply put, it’s just…him. And he’s the only one you want. 

The thought, and the pure intimacy of it all, is enough to make your hips begin to grind down on their own accord. You can feel how he’s pressing into you, how hard and perfectly shaped he is against your body. His hand finds your hip, steadying you and catching your gaze in a questioning look.

“Sure you’re up for this tonight, Love?” He asks, thumb rubbing softly against your pelvis bone. But all you’ve got to do is smile and dip down to capture his lips as you tilt your hips and scoot closer, for him to let out a full-body shiver and grab your hips with both hands, and thrust fully into you. You moan out a slew of curses as your body writhes against his, everything else ceasing to exist as he fills you. Getting lost in his embrace, his face finds your neck again and begins to pepper kisses across the skin. You feel the desperate need for friction, a primal urge taking control, but you're already so sensitive and overwhelmed from the initial stretch that you know you need time to adjust. He groans, a deep, guttural thing, when you finally take all of him, and the sound drives through you, making your core tighten in response. Your own self-restraint crumbles, and your hips move on their own accord, silently pleading for him to finally give in and begin the movement you both crave. Thankfully, he seems unable to resist, his own hips moving to match your rhythm until you hit the pace you need, causing pleasure to crash into you.

His strength is absolutely an asset, his hands helping to guide your hips up and down as you begin to slowly ride him. Your mind was already practically spinning, moans and curses tumbling from your lips as he dragged in and out of your warmth. Your hands find his shoulders (fuck, he has nice shoulders), a desperate attempt to ground yourself and bite back the urge to dig your fingernails into his skin.

“So-fuck–” you whine, almost pathetically, “so fucking full.”

The sound sends a shockwave through Vander, all but ramming himself deeper into you in a way that feels like it breaks your brain. But you both feel it, the desperate hunger for more. 

“That’s right. You take me so well, don’t you, Love?” He moans into your skin, pulling away from your neck to take in the sight of you on his lap. Somehow, seeing his eyes, seeing the way he looks at you; like water to a man parched, like your the greatest treasure you could hope to find. Mesmerized by the pleasure on your face and the way your tits bounce as you move against him. It feels wonderfully perfect, and all you can do is moan and nod, each time your hips snap down, sending a fresh wave of ecstasy through your body.

He’s relentless, his hips grinding against yours like he owns you, and there’s a sense of ownership in his actions, as if he’s claiming you as his own. He lets out a growl against your ear, and the sound of it sends a shiver down your spine. He’s wild and intense, and the pleasure he’s giving you is so much more than you ever thought possible. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his back as you hold on for dear life, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations.

At this point, any semblance of gentleness is long gone, replaced with the primarily urge, the exquisite electrical feeling that buzzes through both of you. You’re riding him with every intention of chasing both of your releases, every thrust down having him gripping your hips harder and harder to the point where you’re half-aware of the bruises you’re sure to have after. He dips back to the crook of your shoulder one last time, licking up the length of your neck with the flat of his tongue before suddenly, the piercing feeling of his teeth against your shoulder shocks through you. You shriek in the mix of pain in pleasure, letting your head roll back to allow him more access. 

“Mine.” He growls into your ear. “Understood?” 

“Fuck-yes!” You cry, feeling the coil in your lower stomach begin to tighten. “Yours. All of me, all that I am, yours.”

Fuck it. Right now, right here. All you needed was him. 

He’s driving you crazy with a pleasure more intense than you could have imagined, his body moving against yours with a raw, primal force. With each deep, hard thrust, you feel him claiming you, leaving you completely at his mercy, and the sense of submission only adds to the pleasure coursing through you. It’s as if he knows your body better than you do, and he’s able to draw out every ounce of pleasure from you. Knowing you’re both on the brink, he reaches out, grabbing one of your hands and pressing a kiss to your palm, then your bandaged wrist, then your arm, then where he just marked his teeth into your skin, all the way back to claim your lips. It’s maddening and intoxicating all at once, it’s perfect, and you find yourself being flown over the edge.

“That’s-” he lets out his own string of curses as you tighten around him, “that’s it, that’s it! So fucking good!”

Your mind is so fried from your orgasm that you barely register him all but throwing you onto the couch, didn’t even register the feel of the fabric on your back. But you most definitely felt him suddenly thrusting back into you, hooking one of your legs over your shoulder to allow him full and complete access to you. He’s more than happy to press kisses to the inside of your thigh, which mixed with the fully lewd sounds of his quickened pace, is enough to get you fully sex drunk and delirious as he continues to plow into you. 

“Gods, you look so-” he bites your thigh, and the same shriek escape your throat, combined with your drunken moans and whines, and it’s enough to make him groan deeply into the flesh he’s biting. “Fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Please!” You whine, voice cracking as your hands balling into fists as your mind struggles to comprehend the amount of pleasure flowing through you right now. “I need it, need to feel it! Vander, please!” That’s more than enough to ruin him, Vander dropping your leg so he could crash down and kiss you as he buried himself deep into you with one final thrust. You felt him groan against your lips and claw at your hips as he emptied himself into you, his chest rising and falling with each panted breath. 

You remain wrapped up in each other's embrace as several minutes pass, your lips moving against one another’s in a satisfied and languid kiss until he finally pulls away to catch his breath. He gasps for air, his warm breath fanning across your collarbone and sending a shiver through you.

Eventually, he can finally speak again, and he releases a deep, satisfied moan, “Fuuuuuck, that was good.” He manages to lift himself up slightly, gazing down at you with eyes filled with an adoring love, as they reach for your hand, their fingers brushing over your knuckles with a tenderness that makes your heart warm. You smile back at him, feeling giddy and blissful. “You alright, Love?”

Taking a deep, calming breath yourself as your consciousness slowly returns to you, you slide your hands up around his neck. “Oh Gods, yeah.” You laugh, and the smile he cracks is so wide, you’re sure he’s going to hurt himself. His head bends down, peppering your face full of kisses until you’re giggling and pushing him away. “...We should probably maybe move off the couch, though…and maybe grab our clothes before the guys get back.”

He whines a little, but concedes. “Right, yeah, hang on…”

Bless him, he carefully maneuvers you into your room, masterfully managing to stay completely in you until you’re laying on your bed. Then, with one final kiss, you feel him pull out before wandering back to the living room to collect all your things as you begin to clean yourself. It takes mere moments, but it feels like ages until he’s back in the room with you, tucking the both of you into your blankets as you begin to seep into the cozy warmth of your shared bodies. 

For a while, you just sit there, the two of you wrapped in warmth and quiet. Every now and then, he gently adjusts the blanket around you, their touch always light, always careful, like he’s trying to wrap you in comfort from every direction. You laugh softly when he tries to adjust your pillow for the third time, but it’s a light, easy sound, one that feels like things are returning to normal again.

You lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder, and he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. The room feels full of little moments like this—touches that reassure, smiles that say everything without needing to be said. You’re not sure how long you stay like that, but time feels slower, softer, in the best way. The world outside seems distant, like you’re tucked away in this small bubble of calm, where everything feels safe and cared for.

It’s simple, it’s quiet, but in that space, it’s everything.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Emily: “I’m really sorry Vaggie didn’t feel comfortable coming back here. If there’s anything I can do to change that-”

Charlie: “Probably not! It was kinda a sign of her endless love for me that she visited haven again at all!”

Emily: “Oh! Oh that’s nice!!”

Charlie: “Which I NEVER would have asked her to do anyway, if I’d KNOWN the truth about her history up here!”

Emily: “Right. I’m so sorry about that too, by the-”

Charlie: “I mean, I’m not the kind of girl who askes her girlfriend to go spend an afternoon sitting across from the people who ripped off her wings! And her eye! And left her slumped against a dumpster looking half dead!”

Emily: “A… dumpster?”

Charlie: “Making the woman you love relive all that without even rEALIZING it would be pretty fucked up, wouldn’t it??”

Emily: “V- very.”

Charlie: “IT HYPOTHETICALLY COULD MAKE SOMEONE FEEL KINDA TERRIBLE AFTERWARDS, DON’T YOU THINK?”

Emily: “I’m sure it did!”

Charlie: “H Y P O T H E T I C A L L Y”

Emily: “Could! I could see that, yes, if it HAD happened, that would’ve been…”

Emily: “…”

Emily: “Are you- um, is she, errr.. doing better now?”

Charlie: “SO much better she’s doing SO great these days!!!!”

IN HELL

Vaggie: (lying face down on the hotel lobby floor) “I promise I won’t stop helping you morons when she dumps me. I won’t let her dream die just because I was dumb enough to think I could be part of it.”

Angel Dust: “That’s nice toots.”

Vaggie: “Thanks.”

Angel Dust: “Not sad or stupidly gay or anythin’.”

Vaggie: “Thanks.”

Cherri Bomb: “Sad? Angie, it’s perfect!” (takes picture) “I’ve been thinking this place could use a new rug…”

Niffty: (stepping on vaggie) “Squishy!”

Husk: “Get the fuck off her.” (at vaggie) “You, get the fuck UP.”

Vaggie: “Why.”

Alastor: “Hmmm, because this is PAINFULLY pathetic to watch, even for me?”

Vaggie: “Guess I’ll be here forever then.”

Angel Dust: “Vag-GAY c’mon, ya girlfirend’s not gonna dump ya. What’s the competition even!?”

Vaggie: “There’s an angel up in heaven who's helping Charlie work towards her life long dreams as we speak, and she's taller than me, got more wings than me, not as stabby as me, and also not a mass murderer or a liar or missing an eye.”

Cherri Bomb: "Hey!"

Vaggie: "No offence to the other one-eyed ladies here, but it's different when you've got a fucked up empty eye socket."

Niffty: (sighs dreamily) "I bet losing it hurt soooo baaaaad..."

Vaggie: "Never telling my girlfriend why I'd actually lost it or how it made me look like the deranged murder angel I was, even while she tried kissing it better for me, ended up hurting way worse."

Angel Dust: “That's a point….”

Angel Dust: “...alright, so Charlie’s PROBABLY not gonna dump ya-”

Niffty: “Oh that’s a weird sound!” (giggling) (bounces on vaggie) “I think she’s dying~”

Husk: “If you fucks kill her, I’m telling her demon princess girlfriend and pouring myself a drink to go with your fucking tormented howls.”

Vaggie: (muffled) “what if she’s my ex-girlfriend”

Husk: “…I’ll pour you a fucking drink and listen to your tormented howls.”

Niffty: “ME TOO I’LL LISTEN TOO!”

Alastor: “Dear one, perhaps if you were NOT standing on her skull and compressing her WRETCHED cries into the floor, we could be hearing them already.”

Niffty: “Whoops~ Heheheeh~”

Cherri Bomb: (recording it) “Damn, that groan’s been going on for ages… Bitch has some lung capacity on her.”

Angel Dust: “Point one for Vag-gay! Probs as good eating out as ya are at HOLDING out on ya girl!!!”

Vaggie: “uuuughhh…uaauuugghhaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaahhhhrrrgh..” (whimpers)

Niffty: “Okay.” (GIGGLES) “NOW she’s dying~” (bounces)

IN HEAVEN

Charlie: “Everything’s totally fine I have NO idea why you’d even ASK!”

Emily: “You’ve spent the entire time up here staring at pictures of Vaggie on your phone?”

Charlie: “I’m allowed to look at my girlfriend!”

Emily: “While crying and sniffling into your sleeve?”

Charlie: (sobbing) (desperately patting down her jacket) “SHE’S THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHICH OF MY POCKETS HAS THE HANDKERCHIEF IN IT, OKAY??”

Emily: (smiling) “I think you two are going to be just fine.”

Charlie: (BLOWS NOSE LOUDLY INTO JACKET SLEEVE, which catches on FIRE)

Emily: “…..not your clothes, though. You might need a new set of those.”

[clemswinecorner]

Birthday [Harry Lewis/W2S]

Summary: You and Harry have barely been dating when his birthday rolls around.

Wordcount: 2.1k

Warnings: swearing probably, nothing major

Happy Birthday to our favourite!! In honour of his birthday, I wrote this (don't mind this being published when his birthday only has like an hour left)

Main Masterlist

You and Harry had only been romantically involved with each other for a month or two when his birthday rolled around. You’d sent him a birthday text in the morning, of course, but didn’t see him until later in the day. He spent the morning with the Sidemen recording some golf video, and them and his friends would all meet up at his around 5 p.m. You were kind of nervous when you showed up, because it was your boyfriend’s birthday. Especially because the relationship was still so new, you were a bit nervous about how it would go and what the deal would be. You knew his friends since you’d met through Josh years ago, being Freya’s lifelong best friend. You made your way into the friend group when you moved to London, and had celebrated his birthday with him plenty of times before, but this year was different. It was Josh who opened the door, not Harry, and you greeted him with a smile. 

“Ah, look who’s here!” You give him a quick hug and greet Callum, who was just walking out of his room, with a smile. “I’ll tell him you got here, yeah?” He says, before he walks back to the living room. Harry’s roommates were both aware that you guys are more than friends, though you hadn’t explicitly told them. You’ve just taken off your coat and shoes when Harry walks in. “Oh, hello,” you turn around to him and smile. “Hey birthday boy,” you smile, holding out your hands for a hug, which he accepts. You smell the sweet cologne he usually wears when recording on his hoodie, as he holds you tight. You lean back, still looking at his face with your hands around his neck. “Happy birthday, my love!” You smile, placing a kiss on his lips. You can feel a smile form on his face as he pulls you closer to him. “Thank you, baby. Glad you could make it,” you jokingly roll your eyes. “What, you think I’d miss your birthday? I haven’t in years,” He lets out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, no, you haven’t. You look really nice, by the way,” he tells you, finally able to check you out. “Thank you. Now, do you want your present now or later?” You ask, and you interrupt him before he’s able to talk. “I know I didn’t have to get you anything, but I wanted to,” He smiles at your kindness, “Okay, thank you. I don’t know, I think a few people want to do it during dinner, but up to you,” You nod and think about it for a second. “I’ll give it later, then,” you say, dropping your tote bag on the floor. He nods, and walks back into the living room, with you following him. You greet everyone enthusiastically, not having seen most of them for a while. 

At around half six, Harry walked up to you, nudging your side. You turn your attention away from Simon, who you were in conversation with. “I’m going to get changed, and then we’re going, yeah?” You nod, excusing yourself as you put down your empty glass. You quickly pack two wrapped presents out of your bag, before you walk into his bedroom. He turns around, his shirt already off. You still weren’t tired of that view, and you shameless looked him up and down. He was already in his black trousers, and it was a shame he had to put on a shirt. “Sorry, could’ve knocked,” You softly say, and he shakes his head, “No it’s fine, was just confused who it was.” He sticks his arms through the sleeves, and god, this shouldn’t be as hot as it is. You sit on his bed, and he looks at you curiously as he buttons his shirt. “Sorry, just admiring my view,” you admit, and you can see a slight blush spreading on his neck and chest. He doesn’t say anything back. , nervously smiling as he focuses on his shirt. “Anyway, I have some presents with me as well,” He looks up again with a smile, taking a seat next to you. You first hand him a flat, squared present, making him look up curiously. “Did you talk to Cal about this?” He asks, glancing over to the record player that was still in its box in the corner of his room. You shrug, not wanting to give away anything. He carefully unwraps it and takes out the vinyl cover. “Oh wow,” he says, looking at the cover on the front, a photo you took of him and his friends last Halloween. He smiles, looking up at you, before he goes back to inspecting the cover and turning it around. He looks up at a soft smile of the picture of you looking at him, love evident in your eyes, and him looking down laughing. “Wow, that’s amazing. Is there an album in it?” He asks, looking at the pictures again. “So, Callum did mention to me how they were getting you a record player, yes. It’s, err, actually been custom pressed, it says the songs on the cover as well,” His eyes widen. “Oh wow, that’s incredible. Holiday pub golf version oh I love that,” looking on the A side, which had the picture with his friends. He turns it around, reading the B-Side, “Tiny Dancer, Elton John, oh that’s the one that played when we went on our first date, isn’t it?” You nod, and smile at the memory. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure if you’d remember that. Side A is like, Sidemen related songs, and like, Wild Ones and then the other one is like… Songs that remind me of you, and us,” she explains. “Ooh, Wild Ones, that’s a gem. Wow, thank you, this is really cool,” he embraces you, setting the Vinyl down on his bed for a second to embrace you. “Thank you, that’s wonderful,” he whispers, pulling back to give you a kiss. You smile, and kiss him back, the same butterflies exploding as the many times before. “Harry, we have to get to the restaurant,” You remind him when you take a second to catch your breath. “Yeah, yeah.”

The group arrives at the restaurant around seven, walking there from Harry’s place. You and Harry go in first to inform the staff of the reservation, whilst the group waits outside and chats. Because it was a slightly bigger group of about 15 people that were all relatively well known, he’d rented the small upper floor that was a small extension of the restaurant that would normally fit about twenty people. You go outside to get the rest of the group and enter the cosy room, that has a classy Italian aesthetic. They’d put the tables together, so everyone could fit around, and you take place next to Harry and Callux, Ethan sitting on the other side of Harry and Chip and Callum sitting across from you. You grab his hand under the table as everyone orders their drinks, shuffling a bit closer. When everyone has ordered, the boys decide it’s time for presents, before people get too drunk or too engaged in conversations. The boys make their rounds, at least the ones that didn’t give him anything already, before it gets back to you. Harry looks at you, not expecting you to have anything from him, as you get a small box shaped wrapped present out of your bag. “Y/N, you already got me something,” He lowly says, “No, it’s just something small, please just open it,” you ask, giggling at the thought of the present. Harry reluctantly takes it, tearing off the wrapping paper. He looks at the box, opening it to reveal six golf balls. “Wait, are these…” He looks at you with a laugh on his face, and you nod. “Oh my god, that’s amazing,” he lets out a genuine laugh, taking out one of the golf balls to look at it closely. Ethan looks over, also laughing at the images on the balls. A few of the guys look confuse, so you look at them to explain it, “They’re golf balls with pictures of me on them,” you tell them, and everyone laughs, wanting to see them. When Harry has the box in front of him, now empty as the balls are being passed around, he turns towards you. “Thank you, baby, I love that,” he says, leaning a bit closer. This was kind of dangerous, knowing his friends all surrounded you, but you didn’t really care. They’d know at some point anyway. “It’s just a silly thing, but I’m glad you like it,” you say, looking into his eyes you can see his smile in. He leans closer until your lips are touching, whispering another thank you before he gives you one last peck, moving back. He moves his arm onto the back of your chair, lightly grazing your shoulder, as you see Josh looking at you with raised eyebrows.  Tobi clears his throat, “Anything you want to tell us, guys?” Harry’s eyes widen at the realization of what he’s just done, and you give him a reassuring smile. “Oh. Well, we’re, like, together. Please no big deal though, we’re just, you know,” Harry rambles, and you smile, taking his hand under his table. He briefly looks at you, and relaxes when he realizes you’re okay. “Ayy they both finally did it, everyone give it up for Harry and Y/N!” Chip exclaims as everyone cheers, and you hide on Harry’s shoulder as you chuckle in embarrassment. You sit up again and see Callux give you a small smile, leaning closer to you. “I’m glad you have each other, he has been happier because of you. And you seem more yourself, too. I’m glad,” he shared, making you smile. “Thank you, genuinely. And also for not really asking, took us a while to figure out what we wanted,” she admits, and he nods, “Of course. Oh, is it time for the thing yet?” He changes the topic, and you look back at Harry laughing with Ethan, Simon, and Callum. “Oh, yeah, can you ask Theo? He has the present,” Callux nods as you turn back to Harry, nudging him. “There’s one more present,” You say, interrupting the conversation. The boys all look at you, understanding the signal to shut up, and Harry frowns, trying to work out whom he missed.

Theo speaks up, “Okay, so, this is from all of us, really,” he tells him, looking around the group. “I do think I speak for all of us when I say you mostly have Y/N to thank, though, because she did a wonderful job working it out, but it’s a bit of a group effort, from us, to you,” He explains, handing over a square, somewhat thick, package. Harry looks around the group curiously as everyone expectantly watches him unpack it. “Harry through our eyes, a reminder of our love for you,” he reads curiously, opening the book. He opens it to a written page surrounded by group pictures of him and his friends and family. ‘Harry,’ it reads, ‘You’ve done so much for all of us, we wanted to give you something back. You mean so much to every single one of us individually, and you deserve to know. This is who you are through our eyes, hopefully you see the same magic we do in you.’ He looks up around the group, before he flips to the next page filled with crazy pictures of him. He lets out a chuckle, turning the page to see a combination of written texts and pictures. “You can read it all later, but it’s basically all of us and some more people sharing what they think about you. Stories, pictures, memories. Your parents and siblings are in it as well. Just, for whenever you need it,” you explain, as he flicks through the book. “Wow. Thank you guys, wow, that is so, umm, my god. Thank you,” he says, truly meaning it. You smile, resting your hand on his thigh. You make relaxing motions, Harry clearly a bit overwhelmed with his emotions, as he briefly looks through. “Oh wow, these are old,” he chuckles, looking at a picture Chris had taken of him the first time they’d met. He looks around the group once more. “Thank you guys, thank you,” He expresses once more, and everyone reacts with a smile, “Of course,” or some other form of reaction. Harry kisses your cheek as a thank you as he turns to you once more. “Thank you, it’s wonderful.” You smile, looking into his eyes. “You deserve to know how loved you are.”

[shapard]

Feather of Fate🕊️

Lucifer x Seraphim!fem!reader

Soulmate arc

A/n: A little bit late for Valentine, but here ya go! Idk when I'll continue this, but this has been stuck in my brain for a long time.

Goldwing

Chapter 1 > Chapter 2

You’ve heard about the story tales from your Mother Sera. How Lucifer has fallen because of his bizarre dreams.  To give humans a free will, which cost chaos to the world. 

As a punishment he was forced out of heaven with his Love Lilith. Sera claims that she wanted you to be safe, so there is one top rule she set up: Don’t Question heaven. 

You keep on holding tight to this one rule, not like your sister Emily. She gets into a lot of trouble when you’re not watching, which gets you also in trouble. 

Big Sister, Big responsibility, that’s what your mother always says. 

Sitting on the couch looking down at the apple sign on your wrist. It was a small apple with a snake surrounding it. It’s a Soulmate mark.

Every Angel gets a soulmate, so they get the perfect heir, some angels describe It as a heart pull and ache. You don’t really enjoy that you’re forced to love someone. It’s somewhere unfair that humans can marry someone they choose to love and trust. Meanwhile when Angels reject their bond, it will kill the two Soulmates in a span of time. 

Even when they’re too long apart it will show in a disturbing way. Aggression, Not eating, no sleep, the list goes on and on.

Putting your sleeve above your mark, not wanting anyone to see it. You got once because of it in trouble. Not a pleasant memory that you want to re live.

It does remind people of Lucifer, but he got Lilith, his soulmate. So that possibility is shrunk to zero. Why else sacrifice living in heaven for a woman?

Today was the meeting with Charlie the daughter of Lucifer. She wanted to talk about a hotel named Hazbin Hotel. 

…Time Skip…

The court room was all a mess, chaos has broken out whispering and hushes echoed through the pearly white halls. 

Emma broke the Silence with her soft singing voice “But she was right, Sera. She Showed us the soul can Improve. He saw the light, Sera. Checked all the boxes that you said would.” You Interrupted Emily and for the first-time in your live, you disobeyed the one set rule. 

“Prove a person deserve a second chance, now we turn our Backs, no second glance?” Sera looked towards you slightly disappointed but also guilty. 

Then the bomb was thrown in the room, extermination. It left you speechless. Why hide something like this and say it was for protection? 

It all went down so quick and with one move you started to doubt everything in heaven. Sera was scared, scared shitless that she’d loose Emily and you, but mostly you. 

You started to Ignore her and rarely left your room. The betrayal was harsh for you. You trusted your mother dearly and now you find out that your mother kills souls because she feels threatened. Threatened because of Lucifers dreams she said was once foolish. 

You started to break rules after Rules, causing a havoc in heaven when you leaked the Information about an extermination in hell. And in less than a week you were in chains in the courtroom. 

“Do you have any Idea what damage you’ve done Y/n?” Sera’s voice echoed through those now soulless halls. The seats now all almost empty. “What damage I’ve done? You call me the Imposter, but have you ever thought what you’ve done? You lied to your people AND your Family Sera.” 

Ouch, you never called her Sera just Mom. “Just do it already, I’m tired of hanging in here and watching my failure of a mother trying to push this longer.” You spat on the cold floor. The coldness reminds you how the last few days felt in heaven. Cold and lonely. “As you wish, do it.” her voice cracked, it was barely audible, but you could hear it. 

You shut your eyes tight and with a swift Moment you felt how your wings were cut off, your scream filled these cool, lonely court room. Sera was already gone, not wanting to see how she failed in one of her children.

The rest of your wings were ripped out of your back, making gold blood squirting all over the white floor painting it in a unique color. And then you fell, too exhausted to let out a desperate call for the comfort of your own mother.  

She didn’t even stay. 

Tears pooled lightly out of your eye. Even though heaven didn’t feel like home anymore, you’ll still miss heaven. 

The wind gushed on your Injured back making it only hurt more than it already does, you fell so fast, this is something you never really experienced you never fell as an Angel. But you fell, you fell deep and Landed on the ground. 

It the worst you’ve felt in these last hundred years of living. The bone that was connecting your wings with your body broke more into splinters at the impact. It had dirt sticking on your bones making you hiss as you tried to stand up making them move slightly in the dust. No success. 

You tried a couple more times, but you feel your stamina running out fast, so you just gave up. You laid there for a couple of seconds before you eventually pass out. 

Lucifer sat in his magic room, where his magical creations came from. The only thing besides Charlie what kept him happy. He took final glances at his old façade. 

It’s time to move on and move into the Hazbin hotel, even though he hates that radio guy, he does everything for his little Charlie. He walked out of his mansion closing it with a key. Taking a deep breath, he spun around and was ready to go. 

Something crashed loud in front of him, swirling all the dirt into Lucifers face. He coughed and waved the dust away. “What the fuck?” He looked at the cause for this early tumult, only to see a very beautiful woman in front of him. It didn’t take him a while to see that she was pretty bad Injured. His eyes dropped at the golden blood. “Oh no.”

The figure tried to stand up but fall multiple times and passed out after a while. No, no, no, no. Turning her around to see the damage, and it is bad. 

Three main bones ripped and broken apart, making him note down that she wasn’t just any Angel, she is a seraph. “Let me help you.” He carried her body very carefully, so he couldn’t do more damage towards her back. Teleporting himself and his other stuff in the hotel apartment, he laid you on his bed with your belly pressed on the mattress. 

He started to heal your back slowly and washed off the dirt from your face and the injury. He knew he couldn’t fully heal her wings back. But she could survive this with his help. And in an odd reason he couldn’t let her die. Some kind of pull on his heart making him already slightly attach towards the sleeping beauty. 

And this routine was repeated every day and when he realized her back was fully healed, he turned her on her back again. Seeing her now in all her beauty. 

“How can someone be this pretty?” he moved a hair strand out of your face and held your cheek. Stroking it a couple of times, it is as if he’s hypnotized. 

Shaking his head, he let go of her very quickly, “Lucifer you can’t just touch someone, she doesn’t even know you nor who you are.” He bit his long-clawed hand, debating whether he should go or not. 

In the end he left the room with heavy displeasure. Somehow not being near you made him angry. You were hurt and needed every protection he could offer. 

His mind screamed at him to go back to you, but he didn’t. This feeling confused the king of hell but, His mind and body were almost like two separate people.

 He pulled up his sleeve looking down at the red apple mark with a golden blue snake on it, like his halo. It was his Soulmate mark, he loves or loved Lilith dearly, but she wasn’t his mate. 

They both thought it may didn’t showed because Lilith is after all a human. Even when he had a soulmate, after landing in hell, he knew he’d never see his soulmate ever. 

He pulled his white sleeve again over the mark, not wanting to think about the what ifs. Maybe helping his daughter would keep his mind from you. “Let’s help Charlie.” 

After a while Lucifer still caught himself worried about you. 

You were laying on his bed for weeks, he healed you every morning and every evening hoping that you’d finally wake up. 

The arch angel Lucifer, and now king of hell, was worried about a seraph, what sarcasm. 

Getting ready for bed, Lucifer started to dress himself in his night gown and went to the couch. Since you’re sleeping on his bed, Lucifer decided to sleep on the couch. He didn’t want to disturb your healing progress

…

Hugging yourself into this blanket was heaven, and the smell of sweet apple and an alluring scent of musk. You never want to leave this place, for the first time since months you felt in peace. 

Fluttering your eyes open, you stretched you arms and legs, but one thing was missing. Your wings. And then reality came crushing down on you. You fell, from heaven. Your mother let you fall down the drain. She lied and didn’t even try to explain it to you. 

It was hard to breath as if you’d re-live the horror of falling from heaven down to hell.

You shacked uncontrollable making you Fall out of the bed. Out of habit you tried to fly those few centimeters. 

With a shallow thumb you fell on the floor. 

You winced from the Impact, and you tried to push yourself up with the next high object with shivering hands. 

This was a different gravity situation. 

Without your wings you slumped forwards, nothing to weigh your back. 

You pushed yourself upwards with the help of the shelf above you. The shelf lets out a creak from your weight and you fall back down with the shelf. 

The whole content on the shelf fell and crashed into pieces and you fell right into them. 

The ceramic pieces digged into your freshly healed wounds, you know that when you move, you’ll re-open the back wound. 

Out of panic your body began to move on autopilot.

With low groans and muffled screams, you leaned on the bed, golden blood smearing around the broken shelf and the white mattress. 

You started to sob at the pain. 

It was dark and all you wanted was to bathe yourself in the scent of that blanket. 

You searched for it. 

In the darkness you couldn’t quite figure it out where the blanket was but after a while you found it.

Holding the piece of cloth on your nose just to smell the comforting scent. You yelped when the light flicker on. A figure standing in the light. The figure was about 5’10 tall. 

You hid behind the blanket not wanting to look at the sudden appearance at the front door. 

…

Lucifer shot up at the sound of breaking ceramic. His mind told him to run towards the sound that came out of your room making him high alert. 

An Intruder? 

But who’d dare to come into the king of hells chamber?

Then he remembered that you were in his room, and without second thought he rushed towards your bedroom turning on the lights.

“You’re awake!”

[maryangelex]

Home is the Feeling of You

John Price x Reader

Summary: You’re Price’s fiancé back home and it’s been months since you’ve seen him. He’s been on deployment and days have been getting lonelier the more days pass. Until you get home one night from work to a more than pleasant surprise.

Warnings/Tags: civilian!reader, fiancé!reader, creampie, domesticity, domestic!john price, fluff to smut, praise kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, masturbation, (light?) breeding kink, phone sex, spit as lube

A/N: so here’s the anticipated civilian!reader fic! I’m just a simp for this man being a husband or anything domestic about him. Enjoy!!! ;)

You were exhausted from work; feet swollen from being in heels all day, muscles tense and eyes burning with the desperate need to be closed and drifted to sleep. You were on your way home but weren’t too eager to get there, if you were being honest.

Your home felt cold and empty despite your best efforts to make it a cozy abode for you and John. But it was hard to feel the slightest bit of warmth in it whenever he was deployed. He had been gone for months now, you had lost count of how many since every day that passed without him felt like an eternity.

You two tried to keep in contact as much as possible. He called you nearly every day, as best he could; sometimes the calls would last seconds other times you managed to get half an hour with him to vent and catch up.

You felt bad every time you complained about your day, though, since he was in quite literally a battlefield most of his time. But he insisted you told him everything, he loved hearing you complain about mundane things, hearing about what shitty thing your boss did, or about your coworker’s crummy love life. It made him feel closer to you and gave him a sense of home to listen to you talk about your day.

When John would say things like “I miss you, love, I’ll be home in no time” or “I can’t wait to kiss that pretty face”, you couldn’t help but feel a fire kindling in your chest. It made you feel warm inside to hear him say that because you knew it was true; John wasn’t a man who lied, he carried his heart on his sleeve for you.

And when he wasn’t being tender and sweet, telling you how much he missed you and loved you, he’d let you know how desperate and needy he was for you. He’d tell you how the sound of your voice alone made his cock twitch in his pants. How the hand that wasn’t holding the phone had slid down his trousers, slowly stroking himself through his boxers.

You’d press your thighs together, listening to his husky voice become almost a whisper on the phone. His breath audible through the phone, letting out soft needy whimpers and promises about what he’d do to you the second he got home. You’d let yourself indulge and return the favor to him by telling him how you were wearing whatever lacy panties he’d bought you and how you were writhing in your shared bed as you pleasured yourself to the sound of his voice.

Still, those steamy calls between the two of you could only do so much for you. It only momentarily veered the loneliness away. You wanted him in your bed with you, wanted to have him watch football games on the couch, wanted to have date nights with him every Friday again, wanted his presence to warm up your flat and make it a home.

Once you got home the sun had already set. You took the stairs up to your and John’s shared flat, and with a sigh of relief, you pushed the door open. You walked in and closed the door behind you, dropped your keys on the tablet at your entryway, and stepped out of your shoes. Your feet touched the cold floor under you and the sensation drew another content sigh out of you.

You noticed the light in your kitchen was turned on. Maybe you left it on this morning after making breakfast without noticing, you were in a rush after all. As you approached the kitchen you heard the sound of something sizzling in a pan. Your heart skipped a beat, a smile creeping on your face at the realization that John was home. When you saw him there, standing in front of the stove with his back to you, you were filled with glee. Your stomach fluttered like it did the first time you two met when you bumped into him at that bookstore and almost spilled coffee all over him. When you first locked eyes with his, those glimmering blue pools.

He glanced over his shoulder and flashed you a smile before turning back to whatever he was cooking so diligently.

“Welcome home, hun” he greeted “‘m makin’ us dinner since I knew you’d be beat from work”

You walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. Your lips pressed against the muscles on his back, peppering kisses on the center of his spine, his shoulders, the nape of his neck. Your arms travelled up the front of his body, feeling the muscles on his chest and abdomen shift as he moved his hands whilst he cooked. You hugged him tightly, squeezing him as if to make sure he was really standing in front of you. As if the tighter you squeezed the more he materialized in your apartment.

“Not too tight, love, you’re squeezin’ the wind outta me,” he chuckled.

“I just missed you so much, John,” you confessed with another tender kiss to his back.

He hummed in acknowledgment with a smile still stuck to his face. He plated the meal for both of you; salmon and stir fried veggies. You released your arms from him painstakingly and grabbed a couple of wine glasses to pair with your meal. John took your plates to the couch while you brought the wine.

You collapsed down on the couch beside John, releasing another heavy sigh as your muscles sank on the plush material. John had set the plates on your coffee table along with the glasses, and handed you a fork whilst encouraging you with a gentle chuckle and a “Eat up, love.”

You sat up on the couch, turning to look at him. Both of your hands rose up to him and cupped his face lovingly. You looked deeply into his eyes; those eyes that always sucked you in, made you feel safe and loved. He looked at you with so much adoration, like he was silently telling you how happy he was to see you, be home with you. You leaned forward and clashed your lips with his, not pulling back for a minute and savoring the sensation of his lips against yours, how his mustache and beard scratched your soft skin. The two of you held your breath as you held each other with your lips, feeling as if pulling back was not an option. When you finally released each other, you sighed, your foreheads leaning against each other as you rubbed the tip of your nose against his.

“Missed you, hon,” he whispered, giving you another kiss, this one more chaste and playful than the prior one. His hand patted your knee, “C’mon, food’s gettin’ cold and I’m bloody starvin’. ”

You giggled as you both dug in. One of the things you missed the most about John was how well he cooked, his meals were hearty and comforting just like his presence. The two of you enjoyed your food as you caught up with him on everything you hadn’t mentioned in your calls these past few months. John spoke much less given the nature of his work, he much more enjoyed to listen to you, and he did so attentively.

At the end of your meal there was only the wine to sip on as you enjoyed each other’s company. The TV played quietly in the background. You were laying on the couch, your torso reclining on the arm rest as your feet sat on John’s lap next to you. He caressed the smooth skin of your legs with his big hands, gently squeezing the muscles on them every now and then. You nudged him with your foot, silently instructing him to keep up the massage. He took your foot in his hands, they engulfed him completely as he squeezed and rubbed them with his palms and thumbs. You winced at the feeling, making him stop and look at you.

“That alright?” He inquired, you gave him a nod in response.

“Just sore from standing all day”

“Let me take care of it” he grinned, his hands returning to work on your feet. His touch traveled up your leg, arriving at your calf, rubbing the tender muscle and eliciting a groan from you. John was enjoying the sounds he drew from you. His hands were getting more adventurous, sliding up past your knee and kneading at your thick thighs now. You gave him a grin and a cheeky look; he returned it.

“What’s crossing your dirty little mind, sweet girl?”

“Same thing as yours, hun”

His hands rubbed your thighs, putting pressure on them as he grabbed and massaged the bulks of muscle and flesh. You bit your lip as his hand wandered under your skirt. He was enjoying himself seeing your expressions shift and your cheeks flush red as he touched you. You reached one hand over to caress his forearm with your finger tips as he slid his hand further up your inner thigh, and your legs spread slightly as a quiet invitation.

“Needy girl,” he teased.

“C’mere already, John, will ya?” you quipped. John complied with your demand, as if waiting to hear you say it, like he needed your permission. He shifted on the couch, moving the leg in his hands to his other side so he could sit between your legs. He grabbed both of your thighs on each side, lightly sliding you down so you were flush with him. You could feel the bulge in his jeans pressing against your clothed heat. You teased him by rolling your hips against him a bit, to which he responded to with a groan and a squeeze to your thighs.

He bunched up your skirt to reveal your panties. His fingertips tracing the soft material over your hips and pelvis. Your hands rested on each side of your head as you watched him with lustful eyes. Now his hands were grazing over your mons, lowering to the crotch of your panties that was already saturated with your juices. His touch made you blush even more, you were embarrassed by how easily the man could make you wet, as if it was the first time he’s ever touched you.

“My girl’s so eager, look at how wet you are” he grinned, his voice low and sultry. He grabbed the hem of your panties and tugged them down, slowly sliding them past your legs and then discarding them. One of his hands palmed your exposed cunt. You wiggled your hips against it and let out a needy whimper.

“John, don’t tease me” you scolded him in a soft voice, more desperation than anything.

He hummed at your comment, sliding his fingers up and down your folds, while his other hand went back to massaging your thigh. He observed as his fingers worked between your folds, his eyes fixated on your glistening pussy. It made his mouth water at the sight of his fiancé being so needy for him, it made him think how much he really missed having you in his grasp. He placed his hand on your mons, thumb reaching down to rub tight circles around your yearning clit. It made you moan to finally feel his touch on your sensitive bud.

He cursed under his breath at the sound, his cock twitching eagerly in the confines of his jeans. You reached one of your hands to stroke him through the rough fabric, tracing the print of his dick.

“Please, John,” you begged “I want you already”

John chuckled, a hint of mischief behind it. “I know, love, I know…but let me take my time to enjoy you, yeah?”

You pouted but gave him an abiding nod. He took his hand off you, making you whimper and your clit pulsate at the loss. He shifted on the couch again, now kneeling in front of it as he pulled your legs again to face him. You were hanging off the edge of the couch in front of him with your legs draped over each of his shoulders, his face inches from your heat.

“Fuck, I missed this pretty pussy,” his breath fanned against your sensitive cunt, and you were so desperate for him to devour you already.

He stuck his tongue out and licked a stipe up your pussy, the taste of you making him moan and roll his eyes back. Your lips parted as you let out a sigh full of relief. Your hands pulled your skirt higher to watch him savor you. He lapped at your pussy, tongue flat licking from your hole to your clit. His hands gripped your thighs as they closed around his head. Your eyes would not break from the sight of him eating you out like it was his last meal on earth.

His lips closed around your swollen clit and sucked on it, making the muscles on your thighs twitch and a whimper fall from your lips. He alternated between encapsulating your clit in his mouth and licking tight circles over it with the pointed tip of his tongue. He was making you a mess of moans and whimpers as your hands clutched the material of your skirt.

He reached his arms under your thighs and over your pelvis; one splayed out and held you still while the other spread your lips apart, exposing your clit fully for him to once again abuse it with his mouth. His lips wrapped around it, sucking and tugging at the bundle of nerves, making your eyes roll back and your hands fly to his hair, releasing a moan with his name attached to it.

You received a moan into your pussy from him in return. He latched his mouth onto your clit, lips sucking and massaging it. His hands now gripped your hips, grinding them against his face as he clung his mouth onto your pussy.

You felt your orgasm pooling in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes were so far into the back of your skull you were seeing stars. Your mouth chanted John’s name loudly like a prayer for salvation, pleading him to let you cum.

He nodded his head in unison with your hips as he licked your pussy, tongue giving special attention to your clit. He whimpered into it in desperation to feel you cum all over his face.

“C’mon baby I know you’re close, be good and cum for me” he mumbled against your cunt, practically begging you.

The grip on his hair was unrelenting, your back arching off the couch and hips slamming into his mouth. Your orgasm surged within you, ready to erupt like a volcano of pleasure. You missed him so fucking much. He knew exactly how to please, always has. You rode his face as you came, your hot liquid leaking out of you and onto his face, coating his beard in it. You were twitching in his grip, your hips stilling and mouth agape as a choked out moan emerged from you.

John’s grip on your hips was literally bruising and you couldn’t be happier to have a reminder of his return home later. He slowed down, lapping at your vulva and kissing your soaked pussy, making sure to savor every bit of you.

He looked up at you, sitting straight up with your legs on his shoulders, his eyes gazing at you lovingly as you still panted and came off your high.

“You’re gonna give me one more, right love?” He said peppering sloppy kisses in your inner thigh. You nodded your head drunkenly. He reached up to your skirt, finally pulling it off you, as you worked on unbuttoning your blouse as best you could with your clumsy, shaky hands. But John was too impatient; he clutched the fabric and tore the buttons apart with ease like he was tearing a piece of paper. He chuckled at your surprised expression, he knew he’d get an earful from you later when you weren’t too hazy to scold him.

“I’ll get you a new one, sweetheart,” he said as his hands found your breasts, massaging them before unclipping your bra and tossing it away. He stood up in front of you now, your legs around his hips, and he took in the sight of his soon-to-be-wife all flustered and naked for him. That body he admired so much, that soft supple skin he loved to bite and caress, those perfect breasts and that pretty pussy that loved his cock so much.

He unbuttoned his jeans and tugged down his boxers, cock springing out free and swollen. The sight of it made your pussy flutter, ready to take him in finally. You were aching for him, already felt yourself aroused and ready for another orgasm from him.

He cupped your mouth in one of his hands, silently instructing you to spit on it for him, to which you complied. He brought the hand to his cock, pumping it a few times and lubricating it with the spit you provided for him. He aligned his fat tip with your entrance, slowly pushing it in at a burning pace. You moaned at the sensation, it had been too long since you had taken in John's impressive size and you were not as accustomed to it. You had almost forgotten how fucking good it felt to have his full length in you up to the hilt.

He cursed under his breath, "Fuckin' 'ell, love, I missed how good your pussy takes my cock", his hand briefly caressed your cheek when the base of his cock was flush against your pussy. His hands gripped under your thighs, his knees were on the edge of the couch and he folded you into a mating press position. His cock was buried impossibly deep inside of you, you could feel him in your cervix.

John began to move at a slow pace, his cock sliding in and out of you slowly, making obscene squelching noises that echoed throughout your apartment. "S'tight and wet f'me, darling", he mumbled. He gradually picked up the pace, his hands held onto the back of the couch while yours held your own legs up and open for him.

His pace became harsher and faster, pulling moans from the two of you. His balls slapped against your ass as he thrust into you, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix making you almost scream with pleasure.

"Ah, John..." you started, barely able to gather words to say as you looked at his face with wide eyes, your pupils blown, "J-John, you fuck me so good...I missed how good you fuck me"

Your words made him feral, making him pound into you. He watched your expression hungrily; lips parted shining with drool, cheeks bright red and burning, and your pretty eyes glossy with lust as they looked up at him.

"Fuck, baby, fuck..." he groaned as he leaned back, sitting up straight and grabbing your waist, slamming you against his cock as you held your legs open for him still "wanna see you with a big round belly under your pretty white dress... wanna fill you up with my cum, sweet girl"

He pressed a hand against your abdomen, "Feel that? y'like feelin' my cock inside you?" The pressure of his hand mixed with his words and relentless pounding made you mewl, your throat hoarse from all the noises John was drawing out of you.

"Y-yeah, John, feels s'good," you whimpered watching his dick bulge within you. You felt another orgasm surging like a wave in your stomach, your walls pulsated and clenched around John's throbbing cock. He felt you close, he knew you were about to cum when your cunt gripped his length relentlessly. He brought two fingers up to his mouth and wet them, then placed them on your pussy, rubbing circles rhythmically with every thrust.

"Cum for me, darling, cum around my cock," he said breathlessly, his eyes fixated on your face as he fucked you and rubbed your swollen bud.

You were euphoric, the overstimulation pushing you over the edge. A couple of more thrusts and attention to your clit and you were gone. Your legs twitched and your body convulsed as you came, gripping John's cock with your walls tightly. You cried out, tears streaming from your eyes.

It took everything in John to not let himself cum right then and there, the feeling of your walls constricting him almost pushed him over the edge with you. But he had other plans; he withdrew his cock from you briefly as he took you in his arm effortlessly, flipping the two of you around. You were shocked and puzzled at the quickness of it, now you were sitting on John's lap all fucked out and out of breath. He had you straddle him and you hold up yourself the best you could, with whatever strength your muscles had.

"J-John, please, I-I can't" you begged, holding onto him and already feeling his tip against your tender entrance again.

"Shh, s'alright, hon, you can do it, I know you can," he cooed, his lips against your ear as he slipped his cock back into you, "just can't get enough o' you"

He held you with one arm firmly around your waist and his other hand gripping your ass, his lips kissing your neck and coaxing you with praises and encouragement as he sunk you down on his cock. You moaned at the intrusion, you were so sensitive it was maddening. Your body was limp as you rested on him, arms lax around his shoulders.

You shut your eyes and let him fuck himself into you, letting him overtake your sense once again. He pounded up into you, holding you in place as his hips thrust up into your abused cunt. You were a mess of moans and whines as he chased his own high.

He was grunting and cursing under his breath, "My pretty fuckin' wife, my girl...takin' my cock so well...bein' a good girl lettin' me fuck you senseless." He was close, his thrusts getting sloppy and desperate. He hoisted your body up, grabbing your hair to make you look at him. You were cockdrunk, out of your mind, but you felt a third orgasm about to hit you like a truck again. John admired your dazed expression, his blue eyes now black with pleasure, he panted exhaustedly and full of desperation to empty his balls in you, fill you up like he said.

He took your face in his hand and clashed your lips together, moaning into your mouth as his hips stilled and the sensation of his cum flooding your insides made you cum with him. Both of you moaning into each other's mouths, your cheeks once again saturated with more tears. You pulled away from each other, panting out of breath with your sweaty foreheads resting against each other. You felt John's hot cum travel out of you between your legs. The hand that gripped your hair now softened, patting the crown of your head and smoothing out your hair. He looked into your eyes, admiring your post-orgasm face, basking in your beauty and in the afterglow of his own orgasm.

You smiled at him breathlessly, exhaustion all over your expression, you kissed him once more, this time more tenderly, putting all the love for him that filled your heart into your kiss. You pulled away and cupped his face, the two of you held each other, sweaty bodies against each other.

"Welcome home, John."

A/N: y'all... i did not intend for this to be so long again!!! but if you loved it and made it this far, let me know!!! thnx for reading ;)

[3vergr3en]

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Secret Love Song

You never thought you could handle the pressure of dating an idol.

You've read the stories. How celebrities lost their years-earned career because all they did was love a person. You knew about the crazy fans that could rain hell if things went sideways in the slightest. And it terrified you with the thought that your boyfriend could be at the receiving end.

You knew that dating Jaeyun was going to be a challenge.

You were to be a couple that couldn’t be seen in broad daylight. That couldn’t be seen sharing a romantic dinner. Or can't even hold eye contact for anything longer than 5 seconds. That’s how careful you guys had to be.

But he reassured you that everything would be fine. That he would love you regardless of what happens. And what did you do? You believed him. You trusted him.

Now, loving your boyfriend was as easy as breathing. It was something that you didn’t think you could ever feel. It was liberating. It.. it felt so right. Like every piece of him just fits perfectly. Cause you loved him. And you swore that you would love him till your dying day. You tell yourself that he feels the same because he promised. He has to feel the same… right?

.

"I love you." "Let's break up."

Oh.

.

Everything flew by like a blur, too fast to process what was happening.

He's leaving.

He's leaving you.

“Jake, wait!” You cry out, voice faltering as your hands grasp onto the hem of his sleeve, frantically grabbing up his arm to keep him from walking any further. You held onto him as much as you could, because you feared that if you let him go, he would walk right out that door and never look back. And what’s scary is that he might really do that. 

“Don’t do this, y/n.” He mumbled.

His voice… When did it turn so cold? What happened? Why wasn’t there any trace of love behind his voice? Where did the soft-spoken voice that you loved so dearly go? The voice that could pull you out of the darkest days. He spoke to you like you were a stranger. Like you meant nothing to him. And in that moment, you swear you can hear your heart cracking.

He couldn’t even look at you. Why can’t he? It’s the least he could do for you right now.

“What?” you utter in pure disbelief. You were borderline baffled at what he had just said.

“No, you’re the one who’s doing this!" You emphasize by jabbing your finger into his chest.

And another tug at his sleeve finally makes him look back at you. 

You hoped for tears in his eyes. A pained look on his face. Or just anything to show an ounce of that he really cared. 

But all you saw was a blank stare. 

You felt your heart sink, and right then, you realized he no longer cared.

It was over.

You let him go. 

You could only watch him as he opened the door of your shared apartment and walked out. He walked out sparing no words. No goodbyes. Nothing. He left as if he was never there. 

You watched as his figure grew distant until he was out of your peripheral view. You remembered the memories, the moments, the joy that you shared. You remembered the feeling of love that you had for him. You remembered it all, and it hurt. So bad. Heavy sobs wreaked havoc on your body as you felt the emptiness that his absence left. 

.

His POV:

I can’t keep hearing her voice call my name out like that. I can’t be here for another minute. I can’t. 

‘You’re a fucking coward’ I know. ‘You didn’t keep your promise’ You don’t think I know that? All of the guilt I’m feeling… it’s gnawing at me. ‘How could you hurt the only woman you’ve ever truly loved?’ Stop. Don’t do this... ‘She doesn’t deserve this’ I said–

“Don’t do this, y/n.”

Wait, no, I didn't mean that– I–

He doesn’t need to look at you to know what you're feeling. God. He knows you like the back of his hand. He can just feel your heart breaking. And it was because of him. The one person you let into your heart, who you deeply trusted with everything and anything, and he was the reason why you were currently falling apart in front of him. 

He’s fighting everything that is screaming at him to go and embrace you in his arms. To apologize for what he’s doing to you. To tell you that this is not your fault. To tell you that.. he loves you too. He always has. Words can't accumulate how much he loves you. He needs you like the air he breathes-- god, he needs you more than he needs himself, he needs you more than anything. And he wants to tell you,

But he can’t. 

And it's agonizing.

He’d rather have all of his fans hate him. Sending him hateful messages, and so many demeaning words because he knows that it could never add up to the pain he's giving you. 

He wants to be selfish. He wants to love you in broad daylight. To take you out for romantic dinners in public. To hold you and kiss you for more than 5 seconds. But he simply can’t. 

He looks back at you and wishes he didn’t because it made everything so much harder. He takes in the sight before him. Your eyes were bloodshot and puffy with tears pouring out, causing your mascara to stain your reddened cheeks. Your hair was disheveled and frizzy in contrast to your normal hair which was soft whenever he played with it. You looked so tired. So.. out of it. And he wants to beat himself up for making you feel like that. This sight of you was his greatest fear. It was enough for his chest to churn, feeling like his own heart was about to implode.  

But he somehow managed to keep a stone, cold face. 

But right then, for a split second, he ignored what everyone said and his hand twitched just a little bit enough for him to almost reach out and hold your hand and–

You let go.

No. Why did you let go? 

Wait. But isn’t this what he wanted?

Why is he hesitating?

Is this truly what he wanted? 

But he can’t think for himself. Not when he’s held accountable for his other members, and for his own sake and future. 

So he does the unforgivable and walks past you. Bidding no goodbyes. Not even a last look behind his shoulder. Just nothing. He left as if he was never there. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 22

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, blood, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

It’s not calm. It’s just nothing. You’re not afraid, you’re not angry, or sad, or anything. Just empty. The tension clings to his touch as he draws away and you’re left just like that. Numb, but not quite. 

You turn onto your back as the soldier stands. You watch him in the strange haze of your existence. Your eyes close as the fire crackles around the fresh log he lays on it. You sink into the depths of your heedless mind. 

When you rouse again, it isn’t for long. He’s dressed in black. As always. But you know by his stance, by his armour and cowl, that he is on his way out. He pauses to pet your head before he goes. You don’t react. 

You shut your eyes again and let the sleep take over your addled body. The pain recedes to a dull thrum and your thoughts slow to a placid ripple. Hours unfurl in shadowy ribbons. When you wake again, you can sense the time passed. Close to a day. 

He is still gone. 

You get up, keeping your injured foot off the floor, and hop around in search of your keeper. You lean on the wall to keep your balance as you make your way through the cabin. You stop in the bedroom door and stare at the blood stain on the wooden floor. You quiver at the memory of the intruder’s fate. 

You retreat to the kitchen and sit for a while. Your appetite sours your stomach. You don’t know how as your thoughts threaten to make you nauseous.  

You flinch as the wind rattles the windows and whistles just outside those battered walls. The world slows and so do your thoughts, just enough to sort them. How did that man find you? How did he get past the traps? Is he the only one? No, you can’t believe that the villain who took you has only a single enemy. 

You get up and go to the fridge. There’s a covered plate with a note on it. ‘Eat’. You bring it to the table and remove the foil. Two hard-boiled eggs, a peeled and separated orange, a cup of cottage cheese, and whole wheat crackers. It’s not fancy or especially tasty but it’s more than enough. 

As you wash the plate, you notice the mug. Another note. ‘Drink’. There’s a packet of instant coffee tucked behind the paper torn from the same notebook he kept by the bed. 

You add boiling water to the mix and gratefully down the caffeine. The familiar taste is comforting. You stay at the table for a while, your eyes skimming the front room. The place is as bland as the meal. 

Then you see it. It wasn’t there before the chaos. You stand and hobble through the open doorway and across the room. You stop before the armchair and the stack on the seat. There’s an unopened package of pencils, a sharpener too; beneath, several puzzle books, another book of blank pages, and a rubik’s cube. 

Under all that, is something else. A dress. Yellow linen, with eyelets around the waist and short sleeves, and buttons down the front. The buttons are pearl and you can tell it is true vintage. 

You leave it on the chair and take a puzzle book. You open the box of pencils and sharpen it to a point. You open the pages and the smell of paper invades your nose. It’s nice. You love that smell. It’s the best you’ve felt in weeks just tasting that scent. 

You sit and do a puzzle. You stop as your cheeks ache. You’re smiling. Something so simple is the most amazing thing you’ve ever done. Just writing the letters. Knowing the answers. You close the book and hold it in your lap as your eyes glaze over. 

You sit hunched on the couch and sob. It could be the pain, it could be the horror of what you witnessed, it could be the terror of what’s to come, the isolation of this cabin, it is everything and anything. Your grief bubbles over and constricts your ribs to the point of breathlessness. You let it all out until you are spent and your cheeks are raw. 

You shakily set down the book on the side table and stand. You angle over to the chair on one foot and lift the dress. You look down at the dark shirt; his. You don’t even remember him putting it on you. 

You strip it off and pull on the dress. It smells like laundry detergent. It’s soft. It’s lovely. It makes you feel a little more human. 

You limp, touching only the toes of your wounded foot to the floor, and go into the bathroom. You can only see to just below your chest in the mirror. Your face and your hair are a disaster but you don’t care. The dress is nice. It’s cute. 

You just watch yourself as you run your hands up and down the fabric. You stay there until you can bear to stand no longer. You come back out, hopping again, but before you can reach the front room, there’s a clatter at the door. 

You cry out as your heart lurches. You search around for anything, something to defend yourself. What if it’s not him? What if it’s another villain? 

The door swings open but does not assuage your fears. It is the soldier but he is not himself. He has his cowl still in place and his body seems to steam as his chest rises and falls rapidly. His muscles are tense beneath the taut fabric, bulging in his armour. 

You cannot see his expression but you can imagine it by his posture. He marches forward mechanically and you whine as you throw up your hands. He grabs your head between his large hands and you struggle with him, dancing on your toes as you cry out in agony. 

“No, please,” you beg. 

That little bit of joy flies out the door and fades into the billowing winds. You push against his stomach as he tries to pull you closer. You ball one hand and beat on his chest as you strain to keep him from smothering you. 

“No, don’t! No, no, not like this,” you plead as you snake your hand up.  

You writhe in his grasp as you get a thumb under his cowl. You slide the strap from his chin and the mask shifts. You continue to push against him as you flip it up, getting it just above his mouth. You tear at it again and unveil his face. 

You look up at him as his eyes fall to you. His scar is a torturous shade of white as he clenches his jaw. His eyes are dilated and dark. Just like the first time he returned. Your insides quake at just the thought. 

He clutches at your dress and pulls you closer. You squeak and shakily press your hand to his cheek. You caress him with your fingertips as he crushes you again him, your arm folding between your bodies. You brush through his sweaty strands and tremble. 

“Please, be nice,” you quaver. “Be soft to me, soldier. Please.” 

He squeezes you until you can’t breathe. You flutter your fingers around his ear and whimper once more. Then he slackens his hold on you and unhooks his arm from your waist. His eyes clear and his hands rest lightly on your hips. 

He opens his mouth and outlines a word with his lips, ‘soft’. 

[sukunas-wife]

I'm in desperate need of sukuna just catering to his pregnant wife. Like he's being too careful, caring and overall really really cautious around her. I just need some sweet stuff between the two. Idk how it'll happen but it must, and I think you'll be the perfect person for it♡♡♡ i love your work sm istg i could just smoosh u into a big hug, reading your posts just makes me all giddy and melt. thank you in advance!!!

Stop Ilysm 🥺🤍 imma do my best 🥹

In no way was Ryomen Sukuna a domestic man, much less a man who would show mercy or an ounce of emotion. Yet here he stood, both sets of arms crossed over his chest hard stare following your waddle around the garden, his face was void of emotions but internal something was ignited. Subconsciously, his body led him to find you almost always when he would wander about aimlessly in thought. Here he was, standing on the engawa. His eyes ran over your body, the small swell in your tummy was a pain in his ass but there wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do to ensure your safety and his child’s. He was lucky you hadn’t noticed him or you’d probably demand something from him and there he would have to go to please you.

The cold rush of air on his skin didn't bother him, but he saw how you shivered, tucking your hands into the sleeves of your robes resting them on your swollen belly. You were persistent and stubborn it didn't surprise when the second rush of wind came and you side eyed the empty air as if threatening a being. You sighed continuing your walk in the garden, fingers grazing the flowers of the garden. The garden you had begged him to make because it had been your dream to have a lavish royal garden of your own. He remembers the first time he allowed you out of his sight, he found you sitting on a stone bench under the shade of a blooming sakura tree, you must’ve felt like one of those silly little princesses with how you slowly lifted your hand to catch falling blooms.

You felt the shift in the air but weren’t bothered to turn around and greet him, you were busy on your little adventure. You were looking for the perfect place, you kept walking until you came to a decent open space, in the centre was a ring of bushes. Staring at the space you started to space out thinking only pulled back to reality by your husband when he draped his Haori over your shoulders. He stood behind you, a pair of arms around you carefully tying it closed. His scent and warmth lingered over your skin when he stepped away, you looked back over your shoulder and up at him. He was looking past you at the bushes you were staring at, one of his left hands rested on your left shoulder. He brought a right hand up to his face, squeezing his cheek bones and running his hand down his face like he was thinking, “what have you decided?” You hummed, “A plum tree right there, as our child grows so will the tree, when he’s old enough to eat fruit it’ll start to bloom.” Sukuna didn’t understand the sentiment behind having your child grow up with his or her own tree. In the end one of them would die and they would have to part ways. “Uraume” “Yes Lord Sukuna.” It was an unspoken command. It was one of many he’d be giving for the next few months.

——————-

“…su?” Your voice was lost in the dark before you tried to sit up whispering, “..sukuna.. kuna… suuuu.” You laid a hand on your husband's chest rubbing circles, he took a slow deep breath opening his eyes to look at you. “Yes y/n?” Your hand trailed to his lower shoulder trailing down his arm and taking his hand holding it in your lap between both of your smaller hands in comparison. “I..I’m hungry..” he was looking at you with soft lidded eyes. His lower set of eyes opened when he sat up the arm he had wrapped around you in his sleep and moved to rub your side, he did his best to whisper “What do you need?” He never asked what do you want like it was a bothersome request, but rather what do you need like it was something necessary for you to keep living. “I want the melon from that fruit stand in the village. The one they had at the top in a small crate…” his mouth opened slightly like he was going to say something. Because here’s the thing, he bought that melon when he saw your eyes linger on it a little too long. But at the moment Uraume wasn’t there and he didn’t wanna carry around a small crate while he had things to do so he told the Vendor he would be back for it, and if he tried to sell it or let anything happen to it, it would be his life for that melon. He closed his mouth, “I…” he moved so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, “I’ll be right back.” You sat there rubbing your belly when he left, it didn’t feel like long considering the King of Curses was inhumanely fast. What took him longer was rummaging through the fruit vendor's stand looking for that cursed crate and melon. Finally he found it tucked away with a note in beg red characters, “LORD SUKUNA DO NOT DAMAGE DO NOT SELL AT ANY EXPENSE THE EMPEROR'S PREGNANT WIFE CAN STARVE IF IT SPARES MY LIFE.” He laughed to himself, a smug smile on his face, “These fools do have brains, how refreshing.”

He made it home and had your ladies in waiting bring you to the table, there he cracked open the crate showing you the perfect honeydew melon that had a thin layer of condensation making it look like the night dew had blessed it. Your tummy growled and your eyes shined bright for everyone to see. It was funny to see the melon on a red cushion in the crate before Sukuna carefully pulled it out and placed it on a wooden slab asking how you wanted it. You told him to cut it into slices, you watched him turn down the knife a lady in waiting offered him only to use to dismantle. It was faster, cleaner and efficient, he chose the best piece shaking off the seeds and handing it to you. You bought into it and it was the best thing in the world, until you finished your third piece and decided you didn’t want it anymore you were full and it started to taste funny. Your ladies in waiting giggled and Sukuna sighed when they started to clean it up, they decided to save the rest for you if you started craving it for at least the next two days.

——————

It wasn't long after that night, you found yourself awake at another ungodly hour of the night. You felt queasy and quickly jumped out of bed, rushing to the large washroom Sukuna loved to bathe in. You grabbed one of the brand new chamber pots the ladies in waiting had bought at Sukuna’s command for when you'd get sick in the morning. You thought you were alone but there was your husband, one arm rubbing your back, the other stilling your chalky hands, the second pair braiding your hair back and out of the way. Following you immediately he snapped at one of the servants to bring water and something to settle your stomach if it was needed. For now he provided the best comfort he could. His warm hands on your cold back and shaky hands might not have stopped your nausea but it was comforting to know he was there with you even if he could’ve just rolled over and slept. You would’ve kissed him or at least his cheek if you didn’t feel so dirty and your tummy didn’t ache and feel empty in a weird way.

——————

Here stood the King of Curses, it was past midday. He was lucky your cravings were during daylight this time but what he didn't understand was why you wanted to top your dango with crumbled salted egg yolk and mochi with dried squid topping. It made him sick and he was more than willing to eat raw human flesh. He sat there making sure the waiter never let your cup empty or your plates void of food but he stopped when you tried to top fried squid with a chocolate and red bean paste.

“Enough y/n, you will make yourself nauseous before the morning nausea starts tomorrow.” His voice and look were stern and authoritative which caused you to pout, “…fine.”

Of course that didn’t stop you from packing your left over into a little wooden bento box to take home.

So when you were hungry after being carried over half of the trip home you decided to eat that sinful concoction you called a meal. Just to find your bento had been tampered with and only had red bean paste buns and chocolate mochi. Your puffed out cheeks match your belly perfectly when you went around looking for Sukuna. Only to barge in on him having a conversation with Kenjaku. “Where’s my squid!” Kenjaku was surprised someone had the gall to raise their voice and be so demanding with the king of curses, “Not now Y/n” Sukuna tried to give you a look to tell you now isn’t an appropriate time, that didn’t stop you from getting closer seeing Kanjaku’s look of surprise when he saw your stomach swollen and prominent. The King of Curses’s wife was indeed pregnant meaning it was entirely possible for a curse to impregnate a human… but could a human.. “I told YOU I wanted that squid!” Your teary eyes had Sukuna’s eye twitching his mind was Screaming ‘dammit woman out of all the times you could cry and make a scene and walk out like THAT it had to be in front of this deranged man-?” He cleared his throat “URAUME- Yes Lord Sukuna.”

Uraume was quick to fry up squid for you, fresh, hot and crispy. It was perfect. His jaw dropped when he saw how you squeezed a drop of red bean paste and chocolate mochi filling on the squid just to take a bite. He also didn’t hesitate in running at you with one of the brand new chamber pots when all of your lunch came back up with that cursed squid. Your husband walked in and sighed, he looked at you as you wiped your mouth, “What did I tell you.” You avoided eye contact, “To not..” he placed a hand on your back rubbing up and down your spine, Uraume was quick to bring water.

————-

Finally, here was Sukuna kneeling in front of you between your legs. You were close to birthing so this had become a very common position for you. Your robes were open and he was listening to your stomach. He could hear very clearly and distinct your heart beat from your child’s. That little heart beat was strong and present no doubt his child. You always ran your hand over his hair, your nails scratching his scalp and he’d humm before finally pulling back. Spreading oil over his hands. All those Japanese Camellia seeds he forced servants to gather and extract oil from because you’d become self conscious of your body and the marks in your skin where your skin was stretching. He’d kneel there between your legs, warm hands rubbing your belly, sides, breasts and thighs down with the oil that everyone had sworn would help you prevent and recover from stretch marks. As much as he’d like to have advanced on you in these situations, he would've been doing this for your last trimester daily. There was no doubt in his mind he would’ve induced early labour, so there he sat pent up but tending to your silly little self conscious needs. Honestly, how could you think yourself ugly when he thought you looked perfectly swollen with his child. If he chose you, why would you belittle yourself? He doesn’t choose and take things that don’t meet his ridiculously high standards. So he doesn’t understand why all of a sudden the change in your mindset. But he’s here with you muttering comforting words against your stomach and thighs if it help you truly understand how he feels about you.

Squishy: @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks

@cyder-puff @bofadeezs

Perm: @sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira

Broken🥺: @cyder-puff @simpforyoubitch @domainofmarie @ilovemybabies378

[lisenberry]

The mountain is you

Ch. 3: I hear your voice in my head

Dom Price x Fem Reader

MDNI/NSFW/18+

CW: Dom/Sub, Bondage, Sex Work, Pain Play, Spanking, Temperature Play (shower), Spit, Voice Kink, Size Kink.

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4)

AO3

You sat back on your heels with your hands folded in your lap as he walked in.  His bootsteps seemed to vibrate across the wooden floor beneath your pillow.  A steady gait, with all of the suspense of a drum roll.

As you faced the high-backed chair, you could only make out the top of him until he made his way closer into view.  He was tall enough when you were standing up.  But on the ground at his feet, he eclipsed everything else around him.  There were no windows, no ceiling.  Just his thighs giving way to his waist, his arms and shoulders. 

Your head tipped back as far as it could just to take him all in, and even then, you came up short of meeting his eyes.

“Already off to a good start, I see.  You look lovely, sweetheart.”  He appraised you in a way that was both agonizingly slow and methodically brief, as he took off his jacket and slowly rolled up his sleeves

“Thank you, sir,” you answered, to the spot on his chest where his flannel shirt opened in a V.  It earned you a quick bob of his head in approval. 

He was starting you off easy.  That much was clear.  Like a teacher on the first day of school.  Throwing you softball questions to gauge how much of the summer reading you’d done over break.  How you responded determined how far he’d push you, and which side of him you’d get.

Could he see the goosebumps spreading across your skin at the mere sound of his voice?      

“Next time, I want you to look at me when you say it.”  He bent down only slightly, aiding your efforts just enough that you could obey. 

His clear eyes glinted patiently between his dark lashes.  Dark brows, dark beard.  They were like signal fires along an unknown path.  No choice but to give yourself up and follow.

“Yes, sir.”  A slight smile pulled at the corner of your lips as the first flutter of heat worked its way from your cheeks down to the echoing emptiness in the cradle of your hips.

“Good.  I like to begin with an inspection.  To assess your readiness, and to make sure your healed from the previous session.”

“I’m ready,” you quickly admitted when his bare hand grazed against the side of your cheek.  You turned into it, starved for even the slightest touch of his roughened palm.

“And I like to take my time exploring what’s mine,” he rumbled, firmly snagging a hold of your chin.  A gesture that simultaneously chastised you for speaking out of turn, and possessively staked his claim. 

You let out a surprised breath, and he took the opening as an invitation to slip his fingers inside your parted mouth.  Two at first, and you instinctively flattened your tongue and closed around their impressive girth. 

“That’s it.”  A short hum of approval followed, as your eyes slipped closed while you sucked them deeper into your throat.  “Don’t overexert yourself just yet.  There’s plenty of time to show me how much you can take.”

He let you savor him a bit before he pulled out with a wet pop of skin and spit, and you nearly fell forward at the loss.  You licked at the salty trail his skin left behind on your lips.  

“Turn around and bend over the stool.”  He pushed a plushily upholstered ottoman closer behind you.  It was the perfect height to kneel and bend against as your arms fell over the other side. 

“Open your legs wider, don’t be shy.”  He folded up the hem of your skirt and brazenly pawed at the meat of your ass in wide circles.  You felt the stretch and pull at your exposed holes, and you wondered if the pads of his fingers were abrasive enough to leave scratches behind. 

In the way his voice had already left etchings on your mind.

“Christ, you’re soaked.  Have you been touching yourself?”  It was barely even a question, the inflection missing from his even tone.

“Yes.”  He pulled his hands away at your answer, leaving a chill in its absence, intentionally.  “Sir,” you quickly corrected.

“Good girl.”  A harsh clap to your backside was your reward.  It smarted with a sharpness that caught you off guard.  He wasn’t taking it easy anymore.  “What do think about when you play with my sweet little cunt?”  His hand returned between your legs, and with it, a probing forefinger glided along the sensitive split of your folds.

You jumped at the sensation, pulling away from the intimacy of it.  How long had it been since you were touched like this?  Ghost had only ever let you use toys on yourself.  Those were the rules, for your safety and his.  Where were the rules now?

This is what you wanted...

“This, sir,” you answered with more certainty than you felt.  Another slap, and your muscles melted into the ottoman and your legs parted wider to brace for the next impact. 

But it didn’t come.  Instead, he pulled back and cleaned off his slick smeared fingers along the side of your thigh.

“This, sweetheart, is just a warm-up,” his low, sardonic voice crooned, as his hands snagged in your hair and arched you back far enough to see him towering behind you.  The back of your head hit the front of his thighs.  “I’ll try to take it slow this time, but no promises.”

Oh fuck, he was good, you shuddered at the thought.  The unknown.  The waiting.  The surprise.  He ticked the boxes of your kink like he wrote the book himself.  Like he’d been paying attention.  You almost broke scene in your gratitude, but you kept your eyes trained up at him, wondering if he could see it written all over your face.

He must’ve, because for a moment, he broke too.  A subtle crinkle at the corners of his eyes, a brief softness that you would’ve missed if you blinked.  Just before he bent down lower, and spit on your face.

He released your hair as you sputtered in shock when it hit your closed lips with a warm splat.  Your tongue darted out to taste the small piece of himself he offered to you.  Not a kiss so much as a wad of spit on the palm to seal the deal.  A promise to take care of you.

As you moved to catch the drop that rolled down your chin, he took hold of your wrists and held them above your head.  With a quickness that left your mind spinning, he knotted a loop of smooth rope around each one, binding them together like a sturdy set of cuffs.  He slung another loop over the exposed wooden beam along the ceiling.

Handy, you thought as he tied it off with a slipknot that left you hanging up on your tip toes.  Once again, the ottoman slid underneath you, but this time you kneeled on it.  He eyed you up and down, making sure you were secure before letting go of the steadying arm at your waist.

You weren’t weightless.  You knew this about yourself.  No one picked you up and carried you around because you were so tiny and pocket-sized.  You were just a woman, and hadn’t met someone big enough to throw you around like you were made of air.

You had substance.  You were made of things.  Matter and atoms, and particles, or whatever.  Flesh and bones.

So, when you hung there suspended, it felt like a dream, and all you could do was focus on the parts of you that felt contact.  Your wrists.  Your knees.  The ropes that cut into your skin, the plushness that kept you from hitting the floor.  You established your center of gravity and braced for the worst with an anticipatory thrumming low in your belly.  Deep within the cradle of your hips.

Nothing would pitch you over.  You could take anything. 

True to his word of being honest about what he was going to do, he flashed the paddle in front of you.  As wide as his hand, it was made of wood and wrapped in leather.  It made Ghost’s crop look like a feather duster.

You let out a clarifying breath through your teeth, licking at your spit-soaked lips to find that tether.  To his promise that burned sweet like spearmint and menthol tobacco.

“Anything you want say before we start?”  His rough-edged voice posed both challenge and threat.

It was the first stop on the train, you reminded yourself.  And he was making sure you knew you could get off anytime.

“No, sir—”

The words barely left your lips before he delt the first blow.  The slap of leather to skin echoed through the house, bounced off the windows and the walls. 

You didn’t scream, not yet, but the sting welled in your eyes to match the blooming fire on your ass.  When the second one swiftly followed, and even harder than the first, you nearly swallowed your tongue to stifle a gasp, wondering if he wanted to hear you. 

But you weren’t an actress.  This wasn’t for show.  If he wanted to hear you scream, to see you cry, he had to earn it.  Right there alongside you.

The third and fourth came slower and with slightly less force, but the fifth nearly rattled your teeth. 

“Oh, fuck!”  You finally exclaimed, no longer able to blink back the tears.  

“You liked that one, did you?”  He had the nerve to laugh behind you.  Was he emboldened by your feedback?  Was he enjoying this as much as you?

It wasn’t long before you lost track of how many whacks you’d taken.  He didn’t bother counting them aloud like some clock ticking away the time.  There wasn’t a limit.  The only one who could stop it was you.

“Had enough, yet?”  He checked in, winded from his own exertion. 

“No, sir.”  The words came slower, as if you had to pluck them out of a messily discarded pile in some dark corner, the more your strength drained away.  You were so close.  Right there on the brink.  You could see it like a trail disappearing over the horizon.

A steadying hand found your shoulder, squeezed warm and firm, as he moved closer behind you.  Enough to whisper in your ear.

“I’m not going to stop until you break.”

With the last command, and a final searing crack, you felt the fresh gush of squirt as you finally let go.  The scream you’d been waiting for.  That maybe he had been, too.

The sweet release that stole your breath and your mind, and dragged you all the way under.  And he hadn’t even touched you.  There was no vibrator strapped to your thigh.  Just a gentle hand on your shoulder.  The polarity to the abuse on your ass.  Nerves flayed and blown wide, you still needed the one thing that would pull you back together.

“Touch me, please,” you whimpered, with a voice hoarse from crying.  “I need to come.”  Deep in the subspace, you sagged limply against your bonds. 

“I can’t deny you anything, sweetheart.  Not when you ask so nicely.”

He pulled the quick release on the rope and caught you against his chest.  Sitting back on his chair, he held you facing forward onto his lap.  You were boneless, propped up only where he held you tightly in his grip.  Careful not to hold your neck, he instead wrapped his forearm under your breasts, cupping one in his palm through the thin silk fabric of your slip and pinning your bound wrists to your chest.

His other hand started at your mound of curls and trailed lower, parting the folds to slowly reach the tender bud at its apex.  He brushed it once, twice, before reaching lower.  Swirling circles around your opening, tracing along the trembling rim before gliding back up again. 

You squirmed weakly against his hips, desperate to touch him back.  To guide his hand where you wanted him to go, but you were helpless to do anything but weather his patience.  To be led at the pace he set.

His beard grazed the top of your shoulder and along the side of your neck.  In your addled brain, you imagined that he kissed you there, that his lips and tongue and teeth met skin.  That the ragged breaths of his need matched your own.

As his thumb worked the pearl of your clit in faster, deliberate circles, those thick fingers you suckled earlier slid deep into your walls.  The achingly tight stretch, combined with the precious friction brought you to a roaring climax of moaned oaths and sounds you’d never heard before.

“You did so good.”  You felt his hot breath against your shoulder as you shattered around him, along with a quick, supportive peck of his soft lips.  Too soft and too brief to register over the riot in your blood.  “I’m feeling generous.  Let’s try something else.”

A pouty whine of doubt was all you could offer, still in the incomparable thrall of an orgasm in subspace.  You couldn’t say no.  So deep under his sway, you’d give him anything.  Let him do anything.  There was no room for resistance in that vast, cloudy place. 

But you didn’t know what else was left.  What laid ahead was too far beyond your reach.

No thoughts, only sensations.  You couldn’t even focus enough to see beyond the fog.  All that held you up was the sound of his voice.  The strength of his arms as he lifted and turned your dead weight, hooking your wrists around his neck.  His hand never leaving your throbbing cunt.

“None of that.  You’ll like it, I promise.  But you’ll have to trust me.”  He curled his fingers forward, hooking deeper in a way that had you muffling your wild shrieks into his chest.  “You do, don’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, until he pulled his fingers away.  You clenched down harder and sank against them, but he slipped them free despite the protest.

“Words, remember?  Need to know you’re still with me.”  He swatted your cheek with the same sticky, wet palm.  Not enough to hurt, but it pulled you back out just enough to speak.

“Yes,” you answered, biting your lip to see if it was still there.  That you weren’t just a cloud of disembodied mist.  “I trust you,” as another slap opened your eyes to meet his. 

He really expected you to keep up the formalities after what just happened?  The world was a different place.  Surely the continents had shifted, and the oceans had dried up.

But there he was, you noted as he came into focus.  You hadn’t just imagined him.  Those signal fires lit up to guide you once more through the dark.  There was a freckle on his nose.  A dimple just above his beard.  He seemed to pause as well, and you realized how firmly he was pinched with restraint.  How tightly he held his own need for release. 

If it was a word he wanted, you’d give it to him.

“Sir,” you finally finished, with a small smile pulling at your tingling cheek.

“There’s a girl,” he said with a low chuckle, as he carried you to a different room.

One that smelled like sandalwood and citrus, with walls of such a bright white that you buried your face further into his shoulder to shield your eyes from it.  The fuzzy, light flannel was a soothing contrast to the sting at your backside.  It still pulsed and burned with each course of blood through the muscle and fat.

“You made quite a mess of yourself, I’m afraid.  Need to clean you up.”  The sound of creaking metal and the spray of water were harsh to your ears.

A strangled sound escaped your lips, half a cry, half a whimper.  This was going to hurt.  Your overexerted pussy perked up at the prospect of it.  It was a devious little thing, swollen and puffy with eagerness that your body could survive another round of punishment.

No, it wasn’t punishment, you corrected yourself.  It was what you needed.

He set you down slowly onto the closed toilet seat, untied your hands and pulled the silk shift up over your head like a doll being undressed and put to bed.  The sleek porcelain was so cool against your bare skin that you shivered at the loss of its paltry heat. 

“I’m right here.”

Keeping his eyes on you and his hands not far away, lest you fall over, he arranged a chair made of PVC pipe into the open shower area and stripped from his own clothes with a quickness that spoke to his own enthusiasm.  It was either that, or a natural efficiency with which he did all things. 

Pants, shirt, boots.  Until all that was left was the dark hair that covered him in varying degrees of masculine thickness from head to toe, and his briefs.  An erection tented the fabric to such a painful degree that you reached out for it, only to be distracted away.

“This one’s all about you.  Don’t tempt me to change my mind,” he slanted you a look that guaranteed you’d regret it as he mouthed at the back of your hand absently.

Two kisses?  You could get greedy for them if you weren’t careful.

But before you could muster any disappointment, he had you by the arms again and positioned you over the makeshift chair.  You sat astride it, with your ass facing just out of the stream of water and an opening below for easy access between your legs.  Your tits draped over the top.

He kneeled in front you, all the better to watch you to submit to him, when your rational brain was clamoring to find your safe word.  Abraded skin meeting hot water was a next level consequence that you weren’t prepared to face with him.

You usually did that part alone with a bottle of wine, your comfort candle, and your favorite movie waiting for you on the softness of your sofa.

But the endorphins that kept you down in the subspace also kept you pliant, giddy with desire.  Fearless.  Reckless, you would’ve argued, if you’d been in some other state of mind. 

Not when you still felt the aftershocks of bliss, and the rawness of your paddling.  Instead, you did your best not to flinch as he directed the steaming water along your skin.  Where you expected a searing torture, there was instead a satisfying burn.  Just shy of scalding.  Just shy of too much.  It heated you up like a cauterizing iron to a wound.  A healing type of hurt. 

Unlike a misplaced hand shying away from a hot stove, you leaned into it.  Arched against it like a bear to tree bark.  That itch you’d never been able to reach.  Dark and subterranean, it skittered around underneath, unable to be caught by the light.

And just when you thought you’d had enough—when the nerves began to die out under the overwhelming blaze—he turned it up hotter still.  A new wave of pleasure and pain, as the backs of his knuckles caressed the needy patch of your sex. 

Violence on one side, and serenity on the other.  Like two sides of a coin flipping end over end into an infinite universe.  It built a force within you that finally collapsed on itself, consuming you whole.  Slower, and somehow more shocking in its intensity than the first.

“Is this how stars are made?”  The last dizzying thought before you slipped beyond reach.

You awoke as if from a dream some time later, with your head in his lap and wrapped in a velvety soft gray robe.  Big enough to fit you like a blanket, it must’ve been his.  The clarity hit you fast, and you sat up with a start.  The waiting surge of adrenaline that always followed a scene found you well-rested. 

“I am so sorry.”

“Easy now.  Here, drink this.”  He adjusted himself to move with you, not letting you go as you tried to bolt, and tipped a bottle full of water towards your lips.

It even had a straw.  How thoughtful. 

“Thank you,” you added, not able to meet his assessing gaze.  Had you even said that yet?  Where were your manners?

“You’re welcome,” he answered breezily.  As if not really knowing what to say himself.

Probably because you squirted all over his expensive looking ottoman and said weird things about turning into a constellation when you came your brains out.

“I don’t want to keep you any longer.  I didn’t mean to take up your whole day.”  You looked at the clock and couldn’t believe it was already evening.

How long had he sat there just holding you?  Your empty stomach reminded you of the food you’d meant to stop for on the way home.

“Are you hungry?  I can order dinner if you want to stay a bit longer.”  He sounded more confident after you’d drained the water and handed it back to him.

You never wanted to leave the cocoon he’d wrapped you in, but it was best to take it slow as you stood to find your discarded clothes tucked behind the sofa. 

“I actually made plans, but next time, yeah?”  You assured him, when he looked at you so vulnerably that you reached for him.  It was only a brief touch to his forearm, but he seemed surprised by it.  “Will you send me your availability?”

A shitty way to say, “You just changed my life,” but you hoped there would be a next time.  That there was still more you could do for each other. You still had to hold up your end of the bargain.

“My calendar’s wide open, sweetheart.”