#chocolate crackle coffee

[gyuuberryy]

teeth

“let's play together, you make me so thirsty”

pairing: vampire!heeseung x reader

synopsis: you were not thrilled about the move in of your new neighbour. mostly because he was so strange and seemed to be hiding something dark. and partly because you couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer to him because of your unwanted attraction. you were determined to expose his dark secret and get rid of him once and for all. but, it was proving to be a difficult task because he was just so irresistible..and needy.

genre: enemies to lovers, vampire au

warnings: lots of suggestive content!!(read at your own discretion), blood, alcohol, getting trapped in a lift, making out, teeth and biting(obviously)

note: this is like my first time writing something suggestive so i was a little nervous, but i think it turned out well! there's no smut tho. teeth is such a freaky song teehee, i hope this gives off the same vibes. listen to the song while reading this, enjoy!

word count: 5.2k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

fairy lights strung across the hallway cast a warm glow on the gaggle of your neighbours crammed into the shared corridor. plates heaped with enough food to feed a small army overflowed from a makeshift table, the air thick with the aroma of baked ziti and something suspiciously like burnt brownies.

it was the monthly floor potluck, a supposed chance for neighbourly bonding. you, however, stood alone by the shoe rack, arms crossed and a scowl firmly in place.

the source of your discontent? lee heeseung, the new resident in 3B. he'd moved in a week ago, and in that short time, had managed to charm the socks off everyone else. mrs. kim from 3A gushed about his "angelic smile," mr. lee from across the hall swore he'd single-handedly fixed the perpetually leaky faucet, and even the ever-grumpy mrs. park from 2B had softened to his "polite demeanour." you, however, weren't buying it.

there was something… off about him. he was a little too pale, a little too perfect. the way his eyes seemed to glint in the fairy lights sent shivers down your spine, not the good kind. maybe it was the way he never seemed to eat anything, politely declining every dish offered with a charming smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. or maybe it was just a gut feeling, a primal instinct screaming that there was more to heeseung than met the eye.

as you nursed your lukewarm coffee, heeseung materialised beside you, a plate piled high with (uneaten) pasta in his hand. his smile, as always, was dazzling.

"hey there! i'm heeseung, from 3b. i’ve been meaning to meet you for a while! everyone's been raving about you."

you narrowed your eyes at him. "is that right?"

he chuckled, a sound a little too melodious. "absolutely! they say you make the best chocolate chip cookies on the floor." he gestured to the burnt offering on the table. "though, these brownies look like they could use some work."

a sarcastic snort escaped your lips. "they're mrs. park's. apparently, baking isn't her forte."

heeseung's smile faltered for a brief moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features before he recovered. "well, maybe next time you could bring your famous cookies," he suggested, his voice smooth as silk.

you raised an eyebrow, suspicion solidifying in your gut. "maybe i will," you said, your voice devoid of warmth.

heeseung seemed to hesitate, the air crackling with a strange tension. then, with another dazzling smile, he excused himself and moved on to mrs. kim, who was already gushing about his "nonexistent" culinary skills.

you watched him go, a cold dread settling in your stomach. he might be fooling everyone else, but you wouldn't be swayed by his facade. there was something about heeseung, something dark and unsettling, and you were determined to find out what it was.

weeks bled into months, and your suspicions about heeseung only intensified. he'd become the bane of your existence, a charming yet infuriating shadow that seemed to follow you around the building. every potluck, every hallway encounter was a constant push and pull between your icy suspicion and his playful facade.

he revelled in teasing you, his compliments bordering on flirtatious. "looking lovely today, aren’t you?" he'd purr, his eyes gleaming with an amusement that sent shivers down your spine. you'd counter with sarcastic remarks that usually sailed right over his head, leaving you more frustrated than ever.

one particularly rainy afternoon, you were rushing down the hallway, arms laden with groceries, when the treacherous floor betrayed you. your foot slipped, and you went sprawling towards the cold tile. but before you could hit the ground, strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you upright with surprising ease.

for a moment, you were trapped in heeseung's embrace. your ear was pressed against his chest, and a jolt of fear shot through you. there was no comforting thud of a heartbeat, just a chilling silence. his touch was icy cold, sending a wave of goosebumps erupting across your skin.

you scrambled away from him, a mixture of terror and anger twisting your features. "don't touch me!" you hissed, dropping a bag of groceries with a clatter.

heeseung straightened, his smile unwavering. "whoa there. just trying to be a good neighbour."

you glared at him, your voice trembling. "there's nothing neighbourly about you, heeseung. what are you?"

his smile faltered for a flicker of a second, a flicker you caught this time. but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual charming facade. "just a guy who likes to help out a damsel in distress," he said, his voice laced with amusement.

but the amusement didn't reach his eyes. they held a glint of something predatory, something that confirmed your worst fears. he wasn't normal. and whatever he was, it was becoming increasingly clear that he was toying with you.

you grabbed the remaining grocery bags, clutching them tightly to your chest as if they were a shield. "don't think this is over, heeseung," you hissed, your voice surprisingly steady despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "i'll find out who you are, and i'll expose you."

he tilted his head, a playful glint back in his eyes. "is that a challenge, darling?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine. "be careful what you wish for. you might just find out more than you bargained for."

with that cryptic message hanging in the air, he turned and sauntered back to his apartment, leaving you alone in the hallway, the weight of his words and the chilling memory of his touch settling over you like a shroud. you were determined to unravel the mystery of heeseung, but a new, terrifying question gnawed at you: were you prepared for what you might find?

sleep evaded you that night. the unsettling encounter with heeseung replayed on a loop in your mind. you tossed and turned, the silence punctuated only by the rhythmic tapping of rain against your window. finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, you crept out of bed and tiptoed towards the door, hoping to get some fresh air.

just as you were about to unlock the door the ‘ding’ of the elevator’s arrival stopped you in your tracks. who could it be this late at night?

peeking through the peephole, you were met with a sight that sent a fresh wave of terror coursing through you. heeseung stood casually a few feet away from your door, the rain slicking his dark hair back from his forehead.

he was whistling a cheerful tune, completely oblivious to your scrutiny. but what truly sent shivers down your spine was the state of his hands. they were stained with something dark and viscous, drying in the cool night air. it looked… suspiciously like blood.

the blood ran cold in your veins. just as you were about to pull back, heeseung paused, his head tilting ever so slightly as if he could sense you watching. a slow, unnerving smirk spread across his face, his eyes seeming to lock with yours through the peephole. how? it was impossible.

panic clawed at you. you stumbled back, adrenaline flooding your system. you had to warn the others. heeseung couldn't be trusted.

the next day, you stormed into mrs. kim's apartment, her usual cheery demeanour replaced by a frantic urgency. you blurted out everything – the coldness, the lack of a heartbeat, and the bloodstains you witnessed the night before.

mrs. kim, however, listened with a furrowed brow. "blood? are you sure, dear? heeseung wouldn't hurt a fly."

heeseung, conveniently appearing in the midst of your outburst, played the part of the concerned neighbour perfectly.

"is everything alright here?" he asked, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. "seems a little tense."

mrs. kim just dismissed him, shaking her head with a small chuckle, “nothing dear, it’s not important.”

his smile was disarming, his eyes brimming with feigned innocence. "oh i see. what were you two talking about so intently then?"

you glared at him, your voice trembling with barely contained anger. "i was just telling mrs. kim about your… unusual habits." you recounted the previous night's events, your gaze flitting between mrs. kim and heeseung.

heeseung chuckled, a light, airy sound that sent shivers down your spine. immediately, his expression morphed into one of concern, looking at mrs kim. "hasn’t she been acting strangely lately? maybe a little… stressed?"

his words stung. he was twisting the narrative, making you seem paranoid and delusional. your frustration grew, your voice rising as you tried to explain what you saw, but your neighbour's eyes held only pity and dismissal.

mrs. kim patted your hand soothingly. "maybe you're just a little stressed, dear. heeseung's a good boy, always looking out for everyone. don't you worry about him."

shame burned in your cheeks. you were alone, your warnings falling on deaf ears. heeseung's smile widened, the glint in his eyes predatory.

"see?" he said, his voice low and menacing, but directed only at you. "sometimes, silence is the best policy."

with that, he turned and sauntered away, leaving you trapped in a nightmare you couldn't seem to wake up from.

back in your apartment, you sank onto the couch, a defeated sigh escaping your lips. you were alone, your suspicions dismissed as paranoia. but the image of heeseung's bloodstained hands, his chilling smirk, burned into your memory. you wouldn't give up. you had to find a way to expose him, to prove to everyone that the perfect neighbour was nothing but a monster in disguise.

the bass vibrated through the floor, the air thick with sweat and the sweet scent of spilled cocktails. you were lost in the music, laughing with your friends, a rare moment of reprieve from the constant worry that was heeseung. the tipsy buzz from the vodka-cranberries only amplified the carefree feeling, pushing his unsettling presence to the back of your mind.

tipsy from a few too many drinks, you excused yourself, needing a momentary escape from the pulsating heat of the dance floor of the club. the cool night air was a welcome change as you stepped into the balcony, the cityscape shimmering under the neon glow. a sudden prickle ran down your spine, making you stop mid-step. it was the distinct feeling of someone's gaze boring into you, a predator sizing up its prey.

your heart hammered against your ribs as you spun around, searching the crowd. there, leaning against the wall opposite the club entrance, stood heeseung. his perfect features were cast in shadow, but the glint of his eyes in the darkness sent a shiver down your spine. he held a drink in his hand, his knuckles white around the glass, as if tightening his grip to control himself.

the moment you locked eyes with him, the air crackled with a tension so thick you could almost taste it. it wasn't just fear this time. there was a strange undercurrent, a dark energy that seemed to emanate from him.

your mind, fuzzy from the alcohol, couldn't quite grasp it, but your body reacted instinctively. panic surged through you, erasing the tipsy haze. this wasn't the charming neighbour; this was the dangerous entity you'd glimpsed before.

you didn't waste a second. turning on your heel, you practically sprinted back into the club, weaving through the crowd. your breath came out in ragged gasps, fueled by a cocktail of fear and the alcohol throbbing in your veins.

with a desperate lunge, you pushed open the nearest door, the sign above it proclaiming it a restroom.

just as you fumbled for the lock, a strong hand shot past your shoulder, wedging itself between the door and the frame. you froze, staring in horror as heeseung casually pushed his way in behind you. he slammed the door shut with a sickening thud, the lock clicking ominously behind him.

he cornered you against the door, his body acting as a wall and a scent that was both familiar and strangely intoxicating. the air crackled with unspoken tension, thick with the remnants of your fear and an undeniable spark of…something else.

“what do you think you’re doing?”, you winced at how weak your voice sounded.

he leaned impossibly close, his breath chilly against your ear. he seemed to be tipsy as well, with the way he stumbled and invaded your personal space.

the alcohol loosened your inhibitions, and his voice, usually smooth and playful, now had a dark, alluring edge to it.

"you looked beautiful dancing under those lights," he whispered, his words sending shivers down your spine. "such a shame you seem to hate me so."

his nearness was overwhelming. you couldn't feel any heat radiating from his body, but the way his lips brushed against your ear sent a jolt through you. his voice, usually smooth as silk, now had a rough edge, sending a shiver down your spine that wasn't entirely unpleasant.

your mind, fuzzy from the alcohol, struggled to process the situation. he was terrifying, yes, but a strange, confusing attraction warred with the fear simmering beneath the surface.

your gaze latched onto the physical beauty in front of you - the sharp angles of his jaw, the way the moonlight glinted off his dark brown eyes. all the warnings you'd tried to ignore hammered against your intoxicated mind, but for some reason, they held no power in the face of the undeniable magnetism of the man pinning you to the door.

“what do you want from me”, your words came out in a hushed whisper, scared as if speaking any louder would ruin the moment.

his gaze flitted down to your lips as he got closer to you, now only a breath away. he leaned closer, the scent of something foreign, yet oddly alluring, invading your senses.

his gaze dropped to your lips, painted a soft pink from the drinks you'd consumed.

before you could register the movement, his lips were on yours. the kiss was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions – the initial shock giving way to a surge of heat that defied logic. his hand slid down your back, pressing you flush against the wooden door.you clung to him, a confused mix of fear and a thrilling sense of forbidden desire coursing through you.

the kiss deepened, becoming desperate, hungry. he tasted of something sweet and metallic, a strange anomaly that sent a jolt through your system. you ignored it, caught up in the intoxicating whirlwind.

his body was freezing cold, save for his lips, his skin a contrast against the heat from your body which made a wave of concern rise up in the back of your head. but it was all forgotten as his hand moved to your neck, his fingers trailing a chilly path before dipping behind your ear.

you gasped at the sudden feeling, and heeseung took the opportunity to let his tongue enter your mouth. the kiss got messier and hotter, as if he was trying to devour you whole.

he rained kisses down your jawline, each one a searing brand against your skin. his touch sent shivers of anticipation down your spine, your breath hitching as you felt his teeth graze a sensitive spot.

it wasn't a bite, not yet. it was a brush, a feather-light caress that sent a jolt through your system. but it wasn't just the touch. there was something… different about his canines. they were sharper, pointier than human teeth, and the sensation sent a wave of surprise through you.

he froze, the movement of his mouth stopping abruptly. his breath hitched in his throat, coming out in ragged gasps like a predator startled mid-hunt. his eyes, locked on your neck, flickered with a mix of hunger and… something else. a flicker of remorse, a struggle you couldn't quite decipher.

the tension in the room was suffocating. you stared back at him, your mind a tangled mess of confusion and desire. but before you could form a question, before you could understand the shift in him, heeseung pulled away. his grip on your neck loosened, replaced by a cold indifference.

his eyes, once filled with a dark desire, now held a chilling emptiness. the warmth of his body vanished as he stepped back, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. he stared at you for a long, agonising moment, his eyes unreadable.

then, in a swift movement, he turned and walked out of the bathroom, leaving you pressed against the door, the memory of the heated kiss a stark contrast to the cold dread settling in your stomach.

the heat of the kiss still lingered on your lips, a confusing memory tainted by the chilling realisation of what he truly was. you cradled your neck, the phantom sensation of his sharp touch lingering long after he was gone.

days bled into a strange silence. the unsettling encounters with heeseung, once a daily occurrence, had vanished. you wouldn't normally miss his presence, but the sudden absence gnawed at you with an unsettling curiosity. you found yourself glancing down the hallway at his door more often than you cared to admit, the memory of the stolen kiss replaying in your mind in a confusing loop.

the thought of venturing to his apartment, of seeking him out after the charged encounter in the washroom, sent a jolt of nervous energy through you.

shame burned in your cheeks at the memory of the heated kiss, a stark contrast to the chilling way he'd left you. yet, a sliver of concern gnawed at you. his absence was unnerving.

finally, curiosity, laced with apprehension, won over your better judgement. you stood outside his door, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. taking a deep breath, you raised your hand and knocked tentatively.

the silence stretched for what felt like an eternity before the door creaked open a sliver. heeseung stood there, his face pale and drawn, dark circles smudging the area under his eyes. he looked… unwell.

"heeseung?" you ventured, surprised by the concern that slipped into your voice. "are you alright? you look terrible."

he didn't answer, just stared at you with an icy indifference that sent a shiver down your spine. the playful glint in his eyes, once so unsettling, was replaced by a hollowness that chilled you to the bone.

heeseung scoffed, a harsh sound that scraped against your nerves. "i'm fine. now leave."

the hostility in his voice stung. the concern you felt evaporated, replaced by a cold anger.

"look," you snapped, "i just came to see if you were okay. but clearly, you don't want the help."

he scoffed, a humourless sound. "of course not. why would i need help from the likes of you?"

he slammed the door shut before you could retort, leaving you standing alone in the hallway, the echo of his harsh words ringing in your ears. shame burned in your cheeks, a confusing mix of hurt and anger churning in your gut.

how dare he act like you were the villain? he was the one who made your life a living nightmare, the one with secrets that sent shivers down your spine.

scowling, you berated yourself for your momentary lapse in judgement. you hated him. you had to.

he was a danger, a monster in disguise. yet, the flicker of something vulnerable you'd glimpsed in his eyes, the way he'd pulled away so abruptly… it was a confusing puzzle you couldn't seem to solve.

heeseung stumbled out of his apartment, a desperate lurch in his gait that spoke volumes of his weakened state. he fumbled with grabbing his keys, nearly dropping them, before finally unlocking the deadbolt.

he needed to get out, anywhere but the suffocating confines of his apartment. he threw a glance down the hallway, hoping for an empty elevator, but his luck had run dry. the red "in use" light mocked him above the metal doors.

he slammed on the button, urgency pushing past the haze in his head. as the doors dinged open, revealing you standing there, his heart sank.

heeseung flinched back, shuffling into the corner like a wounded animal. "get… out," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

"seriously?" you scoffed, following him with your glare. "that makeout session in the club must have been rough if you can't even stand the sight of me now."

heeseung remained silent, the effort of breathing stealing his focus. you rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath about his lack of manners. you turned away, choosing to ignore him.

suddenly, the elevator lurched to a halt, plunging the cramped space into slight darkness. a metallic groan filled the air.

"great," you sighed, reaching for the call button. "looks like we're stuck."

a strained voice answered through the speaker, informing you that a technician would be on their way shortly.

"shortly?" you groaned. "how long is shortly?"

"it's hard to say, ma'am. there's been a minor fault in the system."

you groaned, sinking down onto the floor.

heeseung remained silent, his body trembling. every passing second felt like an eternity. hunger gnawed at him, a primal urge clawing its way to the surface. he gritted his teeth, fighting against the monstrous transformation that threatened to take over.

"hey," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

you shot him a sceptical glance. "what?"

shame burned in his throat, but the need for survival outweighed his pride. "do you… by any chance… have any blood on you?"

you leaned closer, your suspicions finally confirmed.

"about time you admitted it," you cheered, a triumphant smirk creeping across your face. "i knew you weren't normal."

heeseung let out a dark chuckle, a sound devoid of humour. "don't get too excited," he rasped. "you shouldn't be so happy about this."

"oh, come on," you scoffed. "spill it. what are you? some kind of freak?"

a tense silence followed, broken only by the hum of the faulty elevator. finally, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

"vampire."

shock flooded your system. it was one thing to suspect, another to hear it confirmed.

"no way," you scoffed, refusing to believe it. "vampires don't exist."

but his next words sent a shiver down your spine. "the reason i stopped you at the club… it wasn't because of the kiss. it was the smell of your blood. it was… intoxicating."

"ever since i've met you…" he began, his voice surprisingly soft despite the edge of desperation in it. "the smell of your blood, so sweet, has been driving me crazy. so different from anything i've ever encountered."

he paused, a tremor running through his voice. "for years, i've resisted feeding on humans. morality, you might call it. i rely on animal blood, a poor substitute at best. but your blood…" he took a shaky breath, "it was like a siren song. after that night, i can’t even smell any other type of blood without my stomach churning in disgust."

you listened intently, a strange fascination battling with the fear that coiled in your gut. this wasn't the heeseung you knew, the playful neighbor who reveled in teasing you. this was a creature raw and exposed, driven by a primal need he could barely articulate.

"years," he continued, his voice cracking slightly. "years of animal blood, a constant reminder of what i can't have. but then you…" he trailed off, the echo of that night in the club hanging heavy between you.

a shiver ran down your spine, but it wasn't entirely from fear. there was a vulnerability in his confession, a desperate need for something more than just sustenance.

"the challenge," he said, his voice gaining a tinge of bitterness. "the forbidden fruit. maybe that's what drew me in at first. but then…" he hesitated, a flicker of something akin to shame crossing his features.

"then what?" you prompted, your voice barely a whisper. this wasn't how you'd imagined confronting a vampire, yet here you were, drawn into his story.

"don't you see?" heeseung's voice rose, a tremor of desperation colouring it. "you make me weak, vulnerable. yet, your defiance only intensifies the pull. you're everything i shouldn't want, everything i crave."

the revelation sent a jolt through you, a terrifying mix of fear and… something else. the line between predator and prey seemed to blur in the confines of the elevator. you were trapped, yes, but there was also a strange sense of being held hostage by a creature consumed by a desire he both craved and loathed.

the silence that followed heeseung's confession stretched on, thick with a tension that was no longer just fear. you understood him, perhaps better than he understood himself.

taking a deep breath, you surprised yourself by what you said next. "maybe there’s another way."

heeseung's head snapped up, his eyes searching your face in the dim light. "what do you mean?"

"i can help" you held out your wrist, the moonlight filtering through a crack in the elevator door illuminating the delicate veins beneath your skin. "you said you needed blood. maybe i can…

he recoiled as if struck. "no. absolutely not. i won't—"

"heeseung," you interrupted, your voice firm despite the tremor in your heart. "look at me. i'm not scared. in fact…" you hesitated, a blush creeping up your neck. "maybe i… feel the same way."

the air crackled with a new kind of tension. heeseung stared at you, his face a mask of disbelief. "the same way? how?"

"like you said," you whispered, "forbidden. a dangerous attraction." you met his gaze, holding it with a newfound resolve. "if this is what you need, i… i consent."

heeseung's breath hitched. shame flickered in his eyes, quickly replaced by a raw hunger that made your own pulse quicken. "but," he said, his voice low and urgent, "i need more. much more. and from… a different place."

your stomach lurched. "different place?"

a flicker of vulnerability crossed his features. "my apologies," he murmured. "to properly sustain me, i need… the jugular."

the word hung heavy in the air, a primal request that sent a wave of apprehension through you. the image of a vampire sinking its fangs into someone's neck flashed before your eyes. but then, against your better judgment, you found yourself nodding slowly.

a surge of relief, tinged with desperation, washed over heeseung. he moved towards you, a predator closing in on its prey. the closeness brought back a memory - the night in the club bathroom, pressed against the wall, his chilly breath on your neck.

he trapped you against the corner, his body a wall of heat, completely different from the other day where he was freezing.

"please," he rasped, his voice raw with hunger and a strange, desperate plea. "i can't control myself much longer. let me…"

his voice trailed off, replaced by a whimper that both shocked and ignited something within you. this wasn't the cold, calculating heeseung you'd feared. this was a creature on the brink, his monstrous hunger battling with a threadbare shred of control.

"alright," you whispered, the word leaving your lips before you could overthink it.

he didn't hesitate. he leaned in, his movements a blur of desperation. kisses, hot and wet, rained down on your neck, each one a branding iron leaving a fiery mark. you closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the pain. but it never came.

instead, as his fangs pierced your skin, a jolt of something unexpected surged through you. it wasn't pain, but a warmth that spread through your body like liquid fire. your mind grew hazy, your senses overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure that originated from the very point of contact.

he moaned, a deep, primal sound that echoed in the confined space. "so sweet," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "the best i've ever tasted."

he drank deeply, his body trembling with each intake. you could hear him purring, a low rumble that resonated deep within your core. the pleasure was overwhelming, a dizzying mixture of pain and pleasure that left you gasping for breath. your mind turned hazy, each noise tumbling out of his lips sounding like liquid gold to you.

when he finally pulled away, breathless and satiated, he looked at you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. he languidly licked away the remnants of blood from the wound, his warm tongue sending a jolt of electricity through you.

he didn't stop there. he swiped at the blood that trickled down your collarbone, his tongue making a suggestive swipe against your skin. a dangerous glint flickered in his eyes, and you couldn't help but lean closer, a thrill coursing through you.

the jarring hum of the elevator coming back to life jolted you both from your current position. heeseung, his fangs retracted, quickly pressed the button for your floor. a strange mixture of fear and elation bubbled in your chest, a sensation as unfamiliar as the pleasure you'd just experienced.

he turned to you, his eyes searching your face. "are you alright?" his voice was concerned, a stark contrast to his needy whines just moments ago.

you hesitantly reached for your neck, expecting a throbbing pain. instead, you found smooth, unmarked skin. a gasp escaped your lips. "it… it healed?"

heeseung nodded, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "vampire saliva," he explained casually. "has a few… interesting properties. speeds up healing, for one."

a blush crept up your cheeks as you recalled the wave of euphoria that had washed over you during his feeding. "and…" you stammered, "the pleasure?"

"speaking of pleasure," heeseung's voice dipped to a husky whisper, "vampire saliva has another... side effect."

he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "an aphrodisiac," he breathed, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "especially potent when mixed with a good dose of desire. all thanks to those initial kisses on your neck i had planted.”

"so that's why…" you mumbled, suddenly embarrassed.

the elevator doors slid open, revealing the familiar hallway. you stepped out, feeling oddly energised despite the ordeal. a playful smile tugged at your lips.

"so," you said, turning to face him, your fingers playfully tapping his arm, "how do you plan to repay me for that little… service?"

heeseung raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. before he could answer, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a sweet kiss. pulling away, he grinned, his fangs catching the dim light playfully.

your heart hammered in your chest as he took your hand, his touch sending a spark of heat through you. stepping closer to your apartment, he winked.

"let's discuss repayment options in private, shall we?" he said, his voice dripping with a promise of things to come.

he took your hand again, his touch surprisingly warm despite his vampiric nature. before you could respond, he gently steered you towards your apartment, leaving you breathless and caught in the undercurrent of a dangerous, exhilarating game you'd just begun to play.

as you fumbled with your keys, trying to unlock the door in hurry, he leaned down next to you and murmured, his voice a low, suggestive rumble.

"i'm sure you taste just as good everywhere else."

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[freedomfireflies]

Knockout*

Summary: The one where Harry is a handsome stranger who always comes to your diner covered in bruises.

Word Count: 9.4k (jeepers, sorry!)

Content Warning: 18+, smut, slight exhibitionism, very brief violence

Your stranger is here.

He’s sitting in his favorite booth, fifth one down from the first row, directly next to the window.

He’s got his usual hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring any view of his face. His clothes are dark and seem to cover nearly every inch of his skin. His knuckles are wrapped in white gauze, but are stained with streaks of red.

And he’s looking down. Staring at the menu on the table as though he doesn’t order the exact same thing every time.

A cup of coffee – black – and a slice of pie.

He’s like clockwork. He comes in exactly five minutes after midnight, takes a seat in his booth, and orders his usual.

Then, he pays his bill, and he leaves.

You’ve grown used to him. Comfortable with the idea of his face and his voice and the strange, but unsettling presence he brings with him.

You find that it’s more unnerving when he’s not here than when he is. 

“Hi, Cherry.”

Your stranger’s voice cuts through the quiet diner and forces your attention from the mug of coffee you’re pouring. 

You glance up, finally able to see his face now that he’s lifted his head. His skin is littered with deep cuts and vicious scratches. There’s a bruise just by his eye that’s dissolving into an unsettling shade of purple and his bottom lip is split down the middle.

Even still, he’s smiling. A gentle upturn that looks almost painful given the cracked fibers and dried blood.

“Hi,” you reply softly, feeling your heart race beneath your chest as his eyes find yours. “Would you like your usual?”

Somehow, his grin gets a bit brighter. As though he’s touched by the question. “Of course,” he answers calmly, in a voice you imagine you’d recognize anywhere. It’s deep and sultry, but it crackles like lightning. Sensual in a way you can’t exactly explain. “What have you made tonight?”

“Chocolate,” you tell him, glancing back toward the counter where the pies are displayed. “With extra whipped cream.”

“Mm.” His hum is playful, and it matches the glint in his eye. “How much extra?”

“As much as you want.”

He laughs, and you swear fairies are born. “Then I will have a slice of your chocolate pie, with as much whipped cream as you’ll allow.”

You feel your cheeks warm as you nod and turn on your heel to grab his order. Setting the coffee pot down before grabbing a small plate.

Once it’s ready, you return, sliding it across the table beside his mug. “Is that all?”

“No,” he says simply, gesturing now toward the seat across from him.

And just like every other time, you feel your pulse jump. “I’m…I need to get back—”

“You don’t need to go anywhere,” he interrupts with a wry grin. “Please?”

Your lips roll into your mouth, and your heart lands in your throat. Your stranger has always been good at getting you to do what he’d like, and it seems tonight is no different. 

So, with a sigh, you glance back toward the kitchen. Checking to make sure you aren’t needed too direly before you slip off your apron and slide into the booth.

“There,” he hums, placing his arms on the table to learn forward. “S’much better, hm?”

And you can’t help but smile as you nod and glance toward your cuticles. Avoiding that vivid green that always seems to send your stomach into a frenzy. 

“How are you?” he asks next, and his voice is soft, as if attempting to draw your attention back.

Braving a glance, you lift your head, and meet his eye. “I’m all right. How are you?”

“Good. Better now.”

The flirtatious remark sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. But you don’t respond, instead reaching out your hand toward his. Allowing your fingers to dance along the gauze that’s wrapped around his knuckles. 

“It’s bad again,” you whisper, and you feel him study you. 

There’s a gentle pause. And then, “Not by much. It’s been worse.”

You suck in a quiet breath and hold it deep within your lungs. Turning his arm around in order to inspect the wounds painted near his wrist. “You promised.”

Even without seeing the full of his face, you catch his expression fall. 

“I know, Cherry,” he murmurs. “And I’m trying, I promise. S’just…not that easy.”

Your throat constricts, growing dry from the implication. “I know.”

It’s almost inaudible, but your stranger still hears it, and he sighs as he slips his fingers between yours. Pulling your focus back to him. 

“You know you don’t have to worry about me,” he says, squeezing your palm as if to cement the point. “M’gonna be okay.”

“Are you?”

He looks gutted. Ashamed of your disappointment. “It’s just something that I have to do.”

“Why?”

He considers this before shaking his head once. “I don’t know.”

It’s the same answer every time. You ask him who does this to him. Why he does this to himself. Where he goes, why he keeps going back.

But he never offers anything concrete. Just enough to keep you hoping.

He leans closer. Desperate to make you understand. “I’m gonna be all right, Cherry. I promised, didn’t I?”

“But this isn’t ‘all right,’” you argue quietly, once again studying his scars. “You hurt yourself. Or you let somebody else hurt you. And I don’t know why.”

He takes in a breath before setting it free. “I don’t know why, either. But it’s not forever. And I promised you I would be okay. So, I will be.”

You release him and pull yourself from his grasp. Creating a physical distance much like his emotional one. 

“I have to be,” he adds, and that charming smirk reappears. Popping a dimple from his cheek. “I’d miss your pies too much.”

Even if your insides have twisted, you can’t help but laugh. “I suppose they’d miss you, too.”

“Good, I would hope. Might be my second-favorite sweet thing here. Only after you.”

Again, his coy remark leaves you entranced. Hands gathering on your lap as you look out through the large window beside you. “You’re quite forward tonight.”

“M’forward every night. You just don’t notice.”

“Is that right?”

“It is. Can’t really help myself, Cherry.”

The familiar nickname feels like home. It was coined after the first night he’d come in. He’d sat in your section – this very booth – and made small talk while you served him. 

He asked for your recommendation, and you suggested one of the desserts. The pies were your specialty, and you made a new one every evening. He seemed charmed by this and ordered two slices.

That night was cherry. He ate every bite between sips of his coffee and compliments to you. Leaving nothing but crumbs once you came to collect his plate.

He told you he loved cherry pie. It was his absolute favorite. But he’d never had a pie as good as yours.

And from that night on, you became his Cherry.

He never asked for your real name, and you never offered. You supposed this was intentional. A way to protect you from whatever life he led outside the diner doors.

And in the few weeks he’s been coming back for yet another slice of your pie, you’ve learned only three things about him:

He always pays with big bills.

He drives a vintage, black ’69 Mustang.

And his name is Harry.

Anything past that you suppose isn’t yours to know. Yet despite that, you feel drawn to your stranger. Even if he only seems to exist after midnight.

“You weren’t supposed to be working tonight,” he says, calling your attention back. 

You glance away from the window just in time to see his frown. “Joshua asked me to cover a few of his shifts,” you explain. “I’ll be here through the weekend.”

“You covered him last week,” he reminds you, with just a touch of disapproval. “And a few weekends before that.”

Your stranger is right, but you merely lift a shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t mind. The extra money is nice, and the night shift is always quiet.”

“Not always,” he retorts, and you notice the pull of his eyebrows. “Not everybody is as kind as you, Cher. Not in this part of town. Or this late.”

You can’t help but smile at his need to shelter you. “I know. But Owen is here, and he makes sure to check on me from time to time.”

However, Harry’s expression seems to settle into something hard and unnerved. “And what if he gets distracted? What if he doesn’t see some loser trying to grab for you? Or talk to you? Or take advantage of you?”

His voice is rising, a gentle but obvious crescendo that turns the heads of the few patrons scattered about the diner. 

You reach for his hand once more, squeezing it hard to implore him to listen. “Then I will use my extensive training as a waitress and kick their ass.”

You can tell he doesn’t want to, but he smiles. Brushing his thumb along your wrist before looking down. “I’m only trying to protect you.”

“I know,” you whisper, dipping down in order to find his eye. “But I’m not the one who needs protecting.”

The air is charged with a sort of tension you can’t explain. He feels so close and yet so very far away. Your heart aches for your stranger, and for his scars that never heal.

“Hey,” calls a loud voice, ringing through the small diner until you and Harry both turn. You find a man sitting near the counter, wearing a camouflage baseball hat and flannel shirt. His beard is long and scruffy, and his expression is wildly annoyed. “Do you fucking work here or not? Been waiting on a refill for ten goddamn minutes.”

Feeling rather embarrassed of the way you’ve neglected the other customers and deserted your post, you quickly slide out of the booth and stand. Cheeks warm and heart racing. “Yes, of course. I’m so sorry, sir.”

You rush to check on the coffee pot near the counter, making sure that it’s hot and fresh before you approach. Then, you tip the spout into his mug, and refill his drink that’s already three-fourths of the way full.

You can see Harry watching you from his spot. A similarly irritated look behind his eye as he studies the man sitting before you.

Once the coffee has been refilled, you nod an apology, and begin to retreat.

“Not so fast,” the customer grumbles, clearing his throat as he straightens up. Forcing you to hesitate. “I want my check. And a slice of pie on the house. For my troubles.”

Your heart leaps into your throat, but you nod again. The Starlight Diner doesn’t exactly offer free pastries, and anything that a staff member has to comp comes out of the employee’s paycheck. 

Granted, one slice won’t set you back too far, but the shame will. The idea that you left a customer waiting while you chatted with a man you hardly know. It’s unprofessional and not at all how you’d like to be perceived in the workplace. As a mindless girl who merely doddles her day away. Fawning over handsome strangers and daydreaming about a life she can’t have.

“Absolutely,” you tell him, rushing to grab him a fresh piece just as Harry begins to stand from the booth. “Will that be all?”

“Don’t be stingy with the whipped cream,” he instructs. “In fact, I’d like to see you put it on in front of me. So I can make sure you aren’t trying to fuck me over.”

The blood drains from your face. You feel humiliated under the warm hue of lights strung up around the restaurant. Grabbing the can of whipped topping in a desperate attempt to please and end the interaction all together.

“Why don’t you watch your fucking tone,” Harry grits, approaching the man from his left.

But the customer merely scoffs, refusing to offer him even a disinterested glance. “Yeah, and why don’t you mind your own business?”

Suddenly, Harry’s hand smacks down onto the counter beside him, inches from his plate while the coffee inside his mug trembles.

You can’t help but jump, arm recoiling away from the pie while the entire diner grows quiet. Everybody’s attention has turned to your stranger. Watching him closely as he leans forward, and dips down to catch the man’s eye.

“Wasn’t a question,” he murmurs darkly. “You watch your fucking tone when you speak to her. Or I’ll watch it for you.”

And you can tell the older gentleman is a bit off-put by Harry’s distressing demeanor. Yet he remains rather calm, clearing his throat again before leaning back. “And what are you gonna do about it, cupcake?”

Harry’s head cocks to the side. “Would you like me to show you?”

“Harry,” you whisper, just loud enough to force his eyes to yours. “It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, she’s fine, buttercup,” the customer snorts, spinning around to face you once more. “Now let’s go, princess. I don’t have all fucking night.”

His fingers snap together before he points toward the pie. Instructing you to continue applying the fluffy cream until you hesitantly continue.

The whipped desert sprays out of the can in a steady stream, piling higher and higher atop the pie until it begins to spill over onto the side.

Yet he doesn’t stop you. He simply nods and mutters for you to keep going. To fill the plate until he’s satisfied. 

And you know exactly why he’s doing it. Not to satiate a sweet tooth but to demean you. To force you under his cruel, sadistic stare until you fold like a house of cards.

Your stranger fumes from his place a few feet away. You can tell he’s desperate to intervene, but he obeys your look of frantic insistence. Remaining quiet while you oblige the customer’s request. 

Soon, the can runs out. The last few drops spewing from the nozzle until you’re left with nothing but air and an empty bottle.

With a hitch in your breath, you begin to withdraw your hand. He’ll have to drop this degradation act now, and you hope that he only demands the rest of his check before going about his night.

However, before you can fully retract your arm, a collection of grimy fingers dart out and curl around your wrist. Keeping you in place while the man’s eyes narrow and he hisses, “Did I say you could stop?”

But the moment his palm touches your skin, Harry is stepping forward, grabbing a fistful of his collar, and hoisting him from his seat. Then, he shoves him back against the tile wall just behind him, the connection so forceful, it knocks the gentleman’s hat askew.

The other customers, including yourself, gasp from the sudden act of violence. Watching as Harry steps up to him and sneers in his face with the vilest look of disdain you imagine you’ve ever seen.

“Don’t ever…” he seethes through deep, even breaths, “…put your fucking hands on her…again.”

And he’s terrifying. So utterly terrifying, with his busted knuckles, his cracked lip, and his bruised jaw. It’s clear he’s a threat, and the man he’s holding goes deathly pale as Harry keeps him trapped against the wall.

All he can do is nod his understanding, choosing to end the fight before it can begin while Harry – after a very long moment – finally lets him go and allows him to flee from the diner.

There’s a stillness in the café that makes your heart race. The few regulars that are left watching on with a mixture of sympathy and embarrassment. It’s not until Harry shoots them their own venomous glare that they quickly turn away and continue on with their meals.

You slump into the counter, letting the can drop to your side while the sound of a door flinging open echoes from somewhere behind you.

“The hell…is going on?” Owen calls, exiting the kitchen in order to get a better look around. He finds you first, raking his stare up and down your frame before looking to Harry. “What happened?”

“You fucking left her out here, alone,” Harry barks. “That’s what fucking happened.”

Owen’s eyebrows raise as he moves his attention to you. But you quickly side-step into Harry’s path, attempting to end another confrontation before it can begin.

“Just…a customer,” you finally answer softly, reaching for the plate in order to clear your regret away. “It’s fine. He left.”

Your boss nods once. “But he paid first, yes?”

Again, your heart sinks into your toes. Lashes fluttering when you realize his bill will be coming out of your paycheck. “He…um, no, he…he left before I could collect it—”

“Darling,” Owen sighs, and it’s heavy with disappointment, “what did we talk about?”

“I…I know. I’ll…I’ll pay for it—"

Harry’s palm suddenly smacks down onto the counter for a second time this evening. Yet now, there’s a wad of cash beneath his hand. From the looks of it, well over a hundred dollars.

“This will cover it,” he mumbles, turning his unforgiving stare to your boss. “And it’ll cover the rest of her shift, too. She’s done.”

With that, his fingers are wrapping around your upper arm before you can even wrap your head around his offering. Blinking wildly while Owen glances from the cash to you in an effort to piece together Harry’s instruction.

 But your stranger leaves you no room for questioning or bargaining. He’s pulling you out the diner door and into the dark parking lot before you can even bid your boss goodbye.

He strides between the cars before hooking a left around the building. Leading you toward the back alleyway where he normally keeps his car, the wet pavement squeaking beneath his sneakers.

 And during this fervent stalking, his fingers slide down from your upper arm and into your hand. Grasping it tightly as if to make sure he won’t lose you.

Perhaps a part of you would like to feel miffed or ashamed of what just took place, but you can’t seem to fault him for his reaction. He’s always been nothing but kind to you – even if he doesn’t always lend that kindness to others. Expressing his desire to protect you, even if he doesn’t know you.

You wonder if this need to defend is part of the reason why you’ve only ever seen him covered in scars and bruises. If he comes to the diner in the dead of night in order to watch over you. Like a guardian angel or vigilante. 

Right now, however, he disappears into the shadows, gently pulling you along with him until you see his car only a few feet away. He releases you at the same time that he releases a heavy sigh, running a hand through his dark curls as his hood is pushed down. 

“Harry…” you begin quietly, tentative of startling him.

“I’m sorry,” he says before you can even finish. “M’sorry, I lost my temper. I know.”

You watch the way he turns away from you. Bracing himself against the hood of the Mustang while dropping his head in what you only assume is remorse.

And your heart aches for him. For the gentleman that lives beneath the outlaw. “Harry,” you whisper again, stepping closer in order run your fingers down his back. Feeling the way his muscles tense before melting beneath your touch. “I’m not mad, I promise.”

“I know you don’t like it when I interfere,” he mumbles, and it’s almost swept away by the cold, early morning air. “But he fucking touched you, and I—”

“I know,” you interrupt tenderly. “I know, and I’m not mad. I’m glad you did it. I’m glad you were here.”

He hesitates, face turning toward his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You allow your chest to meet his spine. “Always feel safer with you.”

He exhales deeply, releasing something heavy before he’s turning around, and reaching for your cheeks. The soft, stained gauze slides against your skin, and his touch is firm. Keeping you in his embrace while he gazes at you warmly. 

“Are you all right, Cherry?” he asks now, thumbs sweeping beneath your eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

Your head shakes. “No. Scared me a little, but I’m okay.”

It’s clear he doesn’t like this, that familiar frown reforming as he holds you a bit tighter. “He never should have spoken to you like that. Much less put his fucking hands on you—”

“I know, but it’s okay,” you interject again, hoping to ease his stress. “I’m okay because you were here.”

And this is the only thing that seems to calm him. That familiar smile of his the perfect remedy for such a strange night. You don’t want to tell him how often this happens. Especially during the later shift. But that’s what you get for working at a 24-hour diner, and you’re starting to think this is merely part of the job.

And truth be told…you think he already knows.

His forehead meets yours, and you can’t help but grin yourself. Grateful for the comfort he provides – stranger or not.

“Speaking of which…why are you here?” you ask gingerly. “I thought you didn’t come in on my days off?”

“I don’t. But…I saw your car.”

“Oh…how?”

His smirk transforms into something coy. “I was driving by.”

“Oh, really?” you tease. “On purpose?”

The smile slips now, a more reverent look in his eye as he nods. “I like to check on you. Make sure you’re okay.”

And maybe in any other universe, this would strike you as odd. Perhaps even unsettling or disconcerting. 

But even if you don’t know him, you know him. You know his intentions have only ever been pure, and even without having much more than his name, he has always made you feel safe. 

You choose to believe in him. In the goodness of your stranger and the care he provides. Inside and out.

“You do?” you murmur, allowing your hands to rest on his chest. “How often?”

A beat. Then, “…every night.”

The alley grows quiet. Scattered streetlamps reflect off the pools of water that are sprinkled across the cement, warming the dark night with their sepia-toned beams.

And you stand there, just you and him, while the weight of the world seems to rest on his shoulders.

But instead of chastising him or asking any further questions, you push yourself up onto your tiptoes…and kiss him.

It’s not the first kiss you’ve shared, and you know, undoubtedly, that it won’t be your last. Your stranger has been stealing your kisses for weeks now.

And you suppose stealing isn’t exactly a fair comparison. After all, you’ve nearly pleaded with him to kiss you every time he’s come in. 

Not that there’s much need for begging when he’s so willing to offer them to you. Sneaking you away the moment your shift is through. Chasing you through the parking lot…pulling you into the backseat of his car.

It makes you giddy. You feel like a schoolgirl with a crush on the handsome senior. Slipping into the shadows where he waits. Letting him hold you, kiss you, touch you.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t know more than his name or what he does behind closed doors. You choose to share these special – albeit somewhat scandalous – moments with the mysterious gentleman in booth 505.

“My sweet girl,” he breathes against your lips. The wonderfully delicious nickname melting on your tongue. “Missed you.”

You want to remind him that it’s only been about two days, but you can’t. Because you missed him, too.

“And m’so sorry,” he says next, trailing his quick but fervent kisses down your neck. “So fucking sorry for being so bad. Never wanna scare you or make you anxious.”

A soft, delicate noise bleeds from your throat, and you cling to his much stronger frame as though you’re afraid you’ll simply disappear without him.

“Wanna make it up to you,” he whispers. “Will you let me, Cherry? Let me be good again?”

You nod, needing him to keep himself as close to you as he’ll allow. You want to settle him in your lungs, keep him snug inside in your chest. Against your heart.

And a large part of you just wants to keep him…always.

“Let me make it better,” he says, hands dropping to your hips in order to push you toward his car. Placing you against the door in order to trap you and deepen his kiss. “Let me be good, sweet girl. Be good for you.”

And he’s always good. Good to you, good for you. It doesn’t matter how he is with everybody else. 

“Please?” he asks again, leaning back just far enough to catch your eye. “Will you let me?”

He wants your explicit consent. Wants you to say the words before he continues, and you appreciate this stricter habit. 

“Yes,” you manage to answer, exhaling the word with the little strength you still possess. “Yes, please—”

He takes your hand before you can finish, guiding you over toward the backseat before swinging the door open and stepping aside.

“Lay down, baby,” he mumbles gently, pressing a kiss to the side of your head while guiding you in. “On your back, okay? Want you comfy.”

You do as instructed, dipping down into the vehicle before settling into the soft, leather seat. Flipping over until you can find a position you like. 

Harry is quick to follow, landing between your thighs before pulling the door shut. You both maneuver until he can hover his body above yours, keeping you beneath him as he runs a palm up the side of your leg.

His warm hand feels good against your bare skin, the dress you’re required to wear as part of your waitressing uniform bunching just at the top of your knees from the new position. But it’s like ecstasy, heating up your goose bumped skin from the nippy air outside. 

“How’s this, hm?” He squeezes your hip. “You all right, Cher?”

You rest your head against the door and nod, fingers already itching to reach for him again. “Yes, I’m okay.”

“Promise?”

“Mhm. Promise.”

The side of his mouth curls up, and it makes your stomach flutter. “Good girl. Gonna go slow, okay? Earn my forgiveness.”

He continues the lazy strokes to your thigh, falling all the way down to your ankle before going back up. It is slow, and it almost drives you mad. Because he knows what you want. And he knows just how badly you want it.

Things with Harry never go further than you. Something you’re almost tempted to find odd, but he’s a giver. That was made clear from the first time. He derives more pleasure out of your orgasms than he apparently does his own. He only ever wants to touch you, taste you, feel you. It’s never about him. 

You often wonder if there’s a deeper reason for this. If he’s denying himself release on purpose or if he’s merely terrified of getting close. And occasionally you wonder if he simply just doesn’t want to fuck you, but something tells you that’s not the case.

Maybe one day you’ll be brave enough to ask.

Tonight, however, it seems he’s still determined to put the attention on you. Long fingers gently scratching at your leg until you shiver. It makes him grin.

“Can I see you, baby?” he asks softly, letting his eyes trail beneath the hem of your dress. “See how pretty you are?”

Again, you can only whine pitifully as you motion your head up and down quickly. Wanting to succumb to his strong touch. Only feeling grounded if he’s there to hold you.

“Thank you, sweet girl,” he breathes, using his scarred hands to push your outfit up a bit higher. Revealing your quivering stomach and the delicate pair of panties around your hips. 

They’re nothing special. In fact, you imagine they’re rather embarrassing. A simple, tan fabric that does absolutely nothing to make your pussy look more desirable. 

Perhaps it’s a little silly, but you like to look nice for him. On the nights you know he might be coming to see you (which has been every night you’ve worked since you met), you tend to pick prettier pairs. 

Some with lace, some with little bows. Sweeter colors, sexier colors. Anything that might make him smile.

But you hadn’t anticipated seeing him tonight, and now, you almost want to shy away. Lashes fluttering as you look up toward the roof of his car.

But he doesn’t seem to notice. Nor does he seem to care about the color around your waist, his eyes growing wide as his attention glues to the mesmeric sight before him. Pink, bruised lips parting with wonder while he moves closer. 

“Cherry,” he exhales, the feel of his breath sweeping against your bent knee, “missed you so much. Been forever, hm?”

You nod again, braving another glance just in time to see his hand lower. And then you feel him. Feel his thumb pressing gently into the front of your underwear, just above where your clit lies.

Your entire body seems to spark to life like the flicker of a flame. And you gasp, subtly bucking up into his touch in search of more. In search of him.

He smiles. “S’it feel good, honey?”

You let out a soft breath, chest nearly caving in as you whisper, “Harry…”

He looks up, eyes flicking to yours as that coy smirk grows. “What, baby? You okay?”

Of course you’re okay. He knows you’re okay, but you’ve noticed he likes to hear you say it. He likes to know he’s making it better for you. That he’s helping, that he’s doing good.

When you don’t answer, he returns to your pussy, fingers strumming up and down your covered cunt like he’s playing an instrument. Tuning your body to his needs. 

“Can I touch you?” he asks now, dipping down to nudge his nose beneath your jaw. Pressing a soft kiss to your throat. “Wanna touch you…be good for you, Cher. Was so bad…just wanna make it better.”

He’s attempting to atone for what he did in the diner. To apologize, offer his remorse.

And even if you know he has nothing to apologize for, you can’t find it in you to deny him. Reaching up to tangle your fingers in his curls as you tug him closer. Kissing him fiercely.

He’s hard on himself. You know he is. You don’t know why. You don’t know what the cause is. But you can see the repercussions. They’re painted all over his body, and he wears them proudly. 

He curses against your mouth, and you’re reminded then of his busted lip. Instantly pulling away while you mumble an apologetic, “I’m sorry. I forgot—”

“No,” he nearly groans, slipping his other hand around the back of your neck to keep you close. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind, I promise. I like it.”

His kisses become hard again. Anxious, desperate, and rushed. As though he needs you in order to survive. His nose knocking into yours from the way he readjusts himself. Wanting to take you deeper, really taste you. 

You’ve never been so happy in your life.

He only pulls away in order to slip your panties down your thighs, pushing them to your ankles until he can really see you.

His entire expression softens the moment his eyes find you. Filled with a certain kind of hope and indulgence as he gazes at you almost tenderly. Unable to resist reaching out and letting his finger brush down your folds. 

You make another noise, but he doesn’t notice this one. Too content to be touching you. Feeling you. Spreading you open just to watch you drip.

“So fucking good to me,” he murmurs. “You know that, sweet girl? So perfect for me. Exactly what I need and far more than I deserve.”

You aren’t sure what he means, but the implication makes you frown. Pulling on his hair a bit harder while he moves to your clit and begins to press down.

The pressure of his thumb against the more sensitive nerves leaves you breathless. Squirming beneath him from the rush of pleasure that only serves in making you needier. 

“Always so warm,” he muses quietly. Almost as if to himself. “So soft. So sweet. Can’t ever get enough of you.”

It makes your head spin the way he seems to adore you. The way he talks about your body as if he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to behold it. To feel it, to get to indulge in it. Worshiping you like you’re his religion.

He begins to rub your clit in slow, teasing circles. Kissing you once more in order to taste your whines and feed off your desperation. Wet noises fill the car. Not just from your pussy, but from his frantic kisses that echo between the foggy windows. 

It makes you shiver, loving the way he nips at your bottom lip just to leave you restless. The way he whispers your nickname before moving to your neck, pulling your skin between his teeth and smoothing over the mark with his tongue.

He goes faster. Chasing after your whimpers and the way you arch your body into his. Loving how excitable you get from only a few flicks of his thumb across your sensitive clit.

Then, he slows down. Exhaling a heavy breath as if bracing himself to edge you. Like it hurts him more than it hurts you.

And you mewl pitifully as you cling to his broader frame and tug him down into your arms. “Harry—”

“I know,” he coos, and it’s gentle the way he speaks. Sympathetic almost. “I know, sweet girl. But m’not done with you yet. Just wanna keep you a little longer. Is that okay?”

You bury your face in his neck and make another noise. Something akin to his name that gets lost in the way he curses.

“It’s okay,” he tries again, allowing you to use his body like a lifeline. “I’ve got you, baby. All right? M’right here, I’ve got you.”

He proves this by resuming his sweet torture. Circling the nerves a time or two more before moving down. Smoothing through your folds and lowering toward the pooling of arousal that waits for him. 

You hear him hum. “So precious. S’this all for me, then? Mine to play with? Mine to taste?”

You whine, “Yes, yes, yes,” as quickly as your mouth will permit, and he chuckles. 

The tip of his finger dips inside, presumably to collect everything you have to offer him before he’s lifting it toward his lips.

And you settle back against the door to watch. Enchanted by the way he places you on his tongue and sucks. His lashes fluttering and cheeks flushing from the taste.

You don’t imagine you’ll ever get used to watching him do that. After all, you’ve never been particularly…unbothered by the idea of somebody tasting you. Not even with past partners. You get too caught up in your own head. Worried about the taste, the feel, the smell.

Truth be told, most of the men you’ve been with before were never interested in you. They wanted what you could give them. And then they wanted out.

By all accounts, Harry is nothing like anyone else you’ve ever known. Not just because of the mystery that follows his persona, but because of his endless attention to you. To what you need, what makes you feel good. 

He devotes every second to making you feel like you’re God’s gift to Earth. A gift to him. Praising you for simply existing. Indulging in your taste as though you're the sweetest dessert he’s ever had.

Like now, while a deep moan reverberates from the depths of his chest. Filling the car and your ears like music, making your thighs clench around his hips.  

“S’why I call you my sweet girl, you know that?” he murmurs, sucking on his fingers until you’re sure there’s nothing left. And even then some. “So fucking sweet for me. Can’t ever get enough. Gonna get me addicted, baby. Might already have.”

The moment he takes his hand back out, you’re lifting up, and pressing your mouth to his. And you don’t even care if you can taste yourself on his tongue because all you really taste is him.

But the mixture of him, and you, and the slight tang of blood from the busted fibers of his lip is euphoric. Strange but lovely in a way you hadn’t anticipated. 

He seems to understand this despondency, growing a bit more frantic in his need to please. No longer focused on edging as he drops his fingers back to your cunt while his other hand moves for the buttons on your chest.

He pops them free one by one until your equally plain bra is revealed to him. But again, he doesn’t take notice of such things. Instead swallowing thickly at the sight of your breasts that swell behind the cups.

He kisses you again. And again, and again. Then he moves to your cheek and down your neck. Trailing his tongue toward your collarbone and along your sternum. 

You feel restless. Waiting for something – for him. You already know how magical his touch is. You already know the kind of pleasure he provides, and it nearly drives you mad to simply sit in anticipation. Stuck on his time.

Eventually he reaches your chest, lips moving for the curve of your tit before he’s making another noise and sucking into the tender flesh. Nipping at it, pulling it between hungry teeth. Smoothing over the marks with the warmth of his mouth while you reel.

Your hands disappear back into his hair. Stroking the curls almost fondly, nails lightly scratching at his scalp.

He’s always seemed to enjoy this. Instructing that you pull on him as hard as you’d like. That you tug and scratch. That you use him to inflict your pain and your pleasure. That you think of him first and foremost.   

Now is no different. He nuzzles himself further into your breasts while simultaneously sighing with contentment at the way your hand feels against his head. The way you keep him close to your heart. 

You’d keep him forever if you could.

You hardly even notice the way his finger has slipped inside. The way it strokes your delicate walls that flutter from the intrusion, tensing before relaxing in order to allow him in.

“There,” he whispers, pleased with the way your body obeys him. “S’okay. Gonna make it better. I promise.”

And you know he will.

“So tight today, baby,” he says, leaving another kiss to the swell of your chest. Open-mouthed and messy. “Has it been that long?”

You don’t know. You can’t remember the last time he touched you, although you’re almost sure it hasn’t been more than a week. The two of you have become rather insatiable for each other. Chasing after a kind of release you only seem to find within the hands of the other.

Those beautiful green eyes flitter up to yours, studying you closely. Benevolently. “Have you not been taking care of yourself, sweet girl?”

You take a moment to consider what he means before you feel your cheeks warm. Offering him nothing more than a quick shake of your head.

He frowns, brows pulling together. “Why not, hm? Thought you promised you’d try for me. Help make things better when I’m not around.”

You shrug, growing a touch embarrassed. “I know, but…it’s not the same. Don’t like it.”

“Is that right?”

Another shake. “Get bored.”

“Bored,’ he repeats, and there’s a certain glint in his eye. But instead of disappointed, he seems empathetic. “Cause it’s not the same, yeah? Your fingers too small?”

Now you nod, making a noise of agreement. 

He nods along with you, beginning to smirk. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Bet it’s just so frustrating, isn’t it? Trying to find all your sweet, little spots, but just not quite being able to reach?”

You cling to him as he stretches you a bit further. Doing everything you can’t do for yourself. Effortlessly curling his finger into that one spot until you begin to shake.

“Just like that, hm?” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your collarbone. “S’that what you can’t find, baby? S’that what’s so achy?”

And it is. It’s so infuriatingly sore that it almost makes you cry. Wishing you could chase after that feeling until your heart gives out. 

“I bet.” More kisses to your chest. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna fix it, okay? Make it all better again.”

“Please?” you whimper, nails scratching down his broad back. Attempting to pull him closer. 

“Mhm.” He leans forward and brings his lips to yours now. His kiss quick but full of promise. “Always gonna take care of you.”

He begins to thrust the longer digit in and out. Slow enough to work you up but fast enough to leave you wanting more. Coaxing the muscles open before bringing a second finger into play.

The sounds of your wetness being pushed and pulled by his hand are sinful. Sending a chill down your spine and directly into your cunt.

You moan when you feel them, writhing a bit beneath his body until he has to press his leg into yours to keep you still.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he mumbles. Leaving another kiss below your jaw. “Know you can take it, baby. You always do. Don’t you?”

And even if that’s true, you aren’t opposed to the slight sting. Instead invigorated by it and the way he uses great care with you. Wanting to make sure you’re all right so he can please you the way he wants.

Yet somehow, it’s still not enough. Even with the way he curls, and pumps, and thrusts those beautiful digits into your pussy, you feel empty. Barely scratching the surface of that itch as he presses his chest to yours to calm you.

Your noises are becoming more pathetic. Your entire being heaving with the weight of promised pleasure in a way you can’t seem to understand.

His thumb presses into your clit every few minutes, attempting to guide you closer to your release, and it works. The combination making your stomach coil until you nearly see stars. Every cell in your body tightening.

“You close, Cherry?” His free hand moves for your face. Palm pressing into your jaw as the bandage on his knuckles sweeps across your cheek. “Hm? You gonna cum for me?”

And you are. You are, you are. You can almost taste it. Can feel it bubbling up from between your thighs, ready to unravel like the seams on your favorite sweater. 

“Yes,” you gasp, arching from the leather seat. “Yes, please…please don’t stop. Please—”

“Won’t stop,” he promises in a soothing tone, lips ghosting atop yours. “Never stop, I promise. M’gonna be right here until you do, okay? Go ahead. I’ve got you.”

And this is all you need. It happens suddenly and yet far too slowly. Pulling you apart from the inside out. 

You moan so loud, your chest shakes. Eyes rolling back and nails scratching down his spine as it hits you. 

Instantly, he moves his hand from your jaw to your lips. Palm pressing hard against your mouth in order to silence you as he whispers, “Shh, baby. Gotta be quiet for me, okay? It’s okay, you’re all right. Just let go—"

And you do. Allow your body to deplete itself of all energy as he works you through every goddamn second. Dragging it out as far as it’ll go. Increasing the speed of his flicks and thrusts. Pumping your orgasm out of you until it sits in his waiting hand.

“Good,” he breathes before finally removing his hand in order to kiss you quickly. Fingers squeezing the back of your neck as he brings you closer. “So fucking good, there you go. S’okay. Keep going, come on.”

And it’s so good, so wonderful. You feel like you’re floating, high up into the clouds. You decide then that he must be an angel, carrying you in his wings and setting you on a sunset.

But you’re still squirming, seemingly discontented, and he notices far too easily. “You okay, Cher?”

“More,” you whisper faintly. “More…please…”

“More,” he echoes. “My sweet girl wants more. More what, hm? What do you need?”

“More,” is all you say. Once again wiggling your hips down as if to sink his fingers in further. “More, Harry, please.”

“Oh. You want another one. Is that it?”

You nod silently, too strung-out to think in coherent sentences.

He chuckles again, kissing your other cheek before pinching your chin. “All right. Give you as many as you want, baby.”

Feeling incredibly grateful, you allow your trembling limbs to fall slack. Once again settling beneath him as he works to get you to your second.

But even as he resumes the languid but practiced thrusts of his fingers, you feel unsatiated. Eager for something else, but you aren’t sure what.

He realizes before you do. “S’not enough, is it?” he coos. “Need something bigger, don’t you?” 

That’s what it is, and you nod eagerly as your nails scratch down the sleeves of his hoodie. 

“Think you can take something bigger? Think you can take another finger, baby?”

Another nod. Faster, more fervent. Eyes pleading with him to give you anything he has to offer.

He obliges this, glancing down before lining his fingers up, and slowly slipping all three inside.

This stretch is a bit more prominent. He’s deliberately gentle, never giving you more than he assumes you can handle. 

And he watches you closely. Searching for any grimaces or winces of discomfort. 

When he finds none, he seems relieved, kissing up from your chest to your throat once more. “Good girl. There you go.”

You begin to writhe a little more ardently until he has to bring his other hand to your knee in order to press it down into the seat. Keeping you spread and still until you settle.

“Easy,” he coos gently, placing some of his weight onto your thigh. “Gonna have to be good, baby, and relax for me. Let me make you feel good, okay?”

You want to obey. You do, really. But the overstimulation and sensitivity from your first orgasm is almost too much. Making you choke on the heated air until you can hardly breathe.

“Like it when I take care of you, don’t you?” he asks you now. Licking a stripe along your jaw. “Like it when I steal you away from them?”

He’s right, you do. Perhaps you shouldn’t, but there’s something about the way he makes you feel as though you deserve more than this. As though you’re meant for more than the diner. He makes you feel invincible.

“Maybe one day I’ll take you away,” he decides. “Fucking take you from them and make you mine. Forever. For always.”

And you decide you like the sound of that.

Another moment of his strenuous torture passes before he leans back to watch. And you notice something in his face. Utter fascination and lust over the way your body bends to his will. Over the way it stretches around his fingers, the way he pulls it open.

He releases a deep, coarse groan through clenched teeth. Fixated on the way his fingers disappear into your pussy. “Taking me so well, baby. Know you’d take my cock, too, wouldn’t you?”

You whimper miserably, undone by the thought. You can’t deny that you’ve wondered what he’d feel like. All of him, stretching you open. Fucking into you while leaving you a panting mess.

You often imagine what he’s like in bed. In an actual bed and not in the backseat of his car or yours. What he might be like when he’s truly lost himself to the pleasure. Guiding his hips to yours, bending you into a hundred and one positions meant just for his indulgence. 

You wonder if he’d be just as careful as he is now. Just as devoted to you. If he’d be hard and fast or soft and slow. If he has dirty kinks, secret fantasies. If he likes the lights on or off. If he likes the bed or if he likes it up against the wall. 

You hope one day you get to find out. 

“Think you would, yeah?” he continues, sliding his digits all the way to the knuckle. The fibers of the gauze brushing against your clit. “Know you would. Be so good for me. This sweet little pussy would treat me so well, wouldn’t it?”

You nod quickly, pouting at him anxiously.

“I know,” he tuts, finally leaning back over to kiss you again. “Know you’d be such a good girl for me. Let me work you open until you could fit me…let me stretch you just right.”

You reach out for his wrist in search of something to squeeze, and it makes him chuckle. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip until you moan.

“Might take a while,” he muses. “Might take hours. Days. I’ll have to just keep you in my bed until you can fit me, hm?”

He attempts to pull away, but you chase after him. Looping an arm around his neck in order to yank him back to you. 

His smirk feels good against your lips. “M’not going anywhere, sweet girl. Just like to watch you. Bet it’d be fun to watch you take my cock, wouldn’t it? Watch it sink right into this tight little hole.”

He’s evil. Absolutely sadistic and it makes you groan against his tongue until he has to soothe you.

“I know, baby. One day,” he breathes. “I promise. M’gonna take you away and do it right. Make it worth it.”

The thrusting of his fingers becomes more poignant. Enough to drive a plethora of desperate moans from your chest as he nuzzles his nose below your jaw and simply breathes.

“Gonna worship you. Give you everything you deserve.” He sucks in a quiet inhale before dancing his lips along your throat. “Have you sit on my face until I can’t breathe.”

The image has your eyes rolling back. Even if you aren’t sure you’d ever feel comfortable doing so, you’re enamored by the idea. Of the thought of him holding onto your thighs, pressing you down to his mouth. Completely controlling you. 

“Can never breathe when I’m with you, anyway,” he whispers, and you almost don’t catch it. You wonder if you were meant to. “M’gonna do it right, sweet girl. I promise.”

And this is the vow that pulls you through to the other side. Large digits curling up into that one spot that makes your legs shake and you’re falling apart for the second time.

But he still doesn’t stop. Stroking, pressing, pumping even after the tears have begun to slip from your eye. 

“Keep going, there you go. Does it feel good? Feel so good, cumming all over my hand?”

And it does, but you can’t exactly answer. Can’t seem to do anything but cry out as you ride the wave and his fingers as though your life depends on it.

“Doing so good,” he murmurs gently, raising up to kiss you once more. Swallowing your pitiful mewling. “So fucking good, baby. M’so proud of you. Took me so well. So beautiful when you cum, Cherry, you know that? Could watch you forever.”

The sentiment makes your entire body grow warm. You’ve always wondered what you might look like when you orgasm, and truth be told, you imagine it’s not very pretty.

But to hear him say it now – so earnestly – makes your stomach wrench. Nails curling into the seat below as you lift off the leather and knock your chest into his.

He holds you as tight as he can before slowly pulling his fingers out. Relieving you from the overstimulation before putting you back in his mouth. Sucking until a string of saliva drips down his into the gauze on his knuckles. Painting it a much prettier picture than the red has.

After swelling every drop of you with a lewd groan, he finally pulls his hand out, and takes you into his arms. Kissing you through the remnants of the blissful rush.

“So good,” he says again, face burying back into your neck while stroking your thigh with his soaked fingers. “Always make me so proud.”

Your limbs tangle with his as you both slouch into the backseat. Allowing your heart beats to synchronize into one, steady rhythm. 

And once they have, you begin to grin. “Harry?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

He exhales a soft laugh before leaning back onto his knees to get a good look at you. “What for, sweet girl?”

“Just for…this, I suppose,” you mumble shyly. “For all of it. Tonight. Standing up for me and…you know, this part.”

His chuckle becomes a bit more smug. “Are you thanking me for making you cum?”

“I’m…trying. I think.”

“Hm.” His grin is playful and so damn charming as he dips back down to hover his lips near yours. “Don’t have to thank me, Cherry. Believe me. It’s my pleasure.”

His teasing remark makes you giggle, and you kiss him hard before he has the chance to leave you again.

You kiss for a while. A long while. Until you can hardly breathe, your muscles beginning to ache and your eyelids beginning to grow heavy from the lack of sleep in this early morning hour. 

It’s not until you actually yawn that Harry finally remembers to pull himself away and reach for the panties around your ankles. “Shit, it’s late, isn’t it? Know I’ve kept you longer than I should have.”

With a quick shake of your head, you push up onto your elbows. “No. I’m fine, I promise. Just…cumming makes me sleepy, I guess. And you’re so warm. It’s nice.”

This makes him smile again, and that dimple of his makes your heart ache. “You know I’d keep you in this car until the sun came up if I could.”

“I know.” Your fingers outstretch for his hoodie, tangling into the material on his stomach while he guides your underwear back up around your hips. “Maybe one day, yeah?”

His expression softens, and you almost swear you see a flash of sadness behind that sage green. “Yeah. Maybe.”

It’s quiet as you rebutton your dress and pull the hem back down. And even quieter as Harry opens the door and slips out of the car, extending his hand toward you in order to help you out as well.

But once you’ve straightened up and turned to face him, you see that something has changed. A look of longing that hadn’t been there before etched between those scarred features.

His thumb brushes just beneath your eye and then down to your lips. Tracing the lines and dips before he sighs and cradles your cheek in his palm. “Are you gonna be all right?”

You place your hand over his and squeeze. “Are you?”

Another deep breath. Heavier and more forlorn. “You know I’ll try.”

“Promise?”

His forehead meets yours, and you both still. “I promise.”

And you choose to believe him.

You say goodbye, and regretfully let him go. Shaky legs carrying you back to your car as his eyes follow you all the way. Making sure you get there safely before you take off down the road and leave him behind.

A few nights later, you’re back for your next shift. And truth be told, you’re almost excited. Because having to go so long without him feels like a form of punishment. Like your days aren’t nearly as bright without him. And neither are your nights.

You can’t help but count the seconds as you go about your evening. Unable to distract yourself with the pastries no matter how hard you try. Thoughts drifting back to those chocolate curls and that devilish smile.

When midnight strikes, you feel relieved. Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding as you grab your notepad and slip out of the kitchen. Ready to greet him in his favorite booth.

But the moment you slip past the door, you find that the diner is empty. Not a single customer to greet you as you scan the floor in search of that familiar face. Even a glimpse of his shoes or the sound of his voice.

But the booth is empty, the diner is quiet, and it’s 12:06. 

Your stranger isn’t here.

I know not too much has happened yet but we are building up to tons more smut and plot and angst and fluff, I swear!! 😭💞

Next Part:

~ Whiplash*

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @lovebittenbyevans @caynonmoondreams @amberbambridge

[mingtinys]

what dating seventeen feels like

pairing : seventeen x gn!reader

headcanons , fluff , misc

warnings : none

word count : 1.1 k

requested ? no

a/n: just a small collection of the things i love in life that i associate with seventeen

choi seungcheol

falling asleep on the couch and waking up in bed. chocolate-covered strawberries. the kind of love found in romcoms. expensive dinner dates and champagne.

cologne that lingers on your clothes and bed sheets. tight, bone-crushing, hugs. his hand almost always under the hem of your shirt, skin to skin (it grounds him). him letting you win when you play wrestle. cute aggression victim.

having a rock to hold on to amidst a raging current.

yoon jeonghan

diving under a crashing wave to find calm, gentle, water. rollercoasters with big drops. feathers. lavender fields. leaving the theater and realizing night has fallen.

always saying the same thing at the same time (it scares seokmin). naps on the couch. sending each other pictures of weird-looking animals with the caption "you" or "us." partners in crime. braiding his hair.

having not only a boyfriend but a best friend in jeonghan.

joshua hong

warm blankets, fresh from the dryer. pancakes and orange juice in the morning. raw honey. the scent of freshly baked bread. scented candles and wax melts.

lives up to the gentleman title. opens doors, bides by the sidewalk rule, lends you his jacket, etc. acts! of! service!! fighting over who pays the bill (he's actually ambushed your waiter to pay before you can even see the check). domestic, mundane, slice-of-life type of love.

a honeymoon phase that never ends.

wen junhui

walking down empty streets without a care in the world. morning cartoons. clingy cats. ice cream for dinner. frozen pizza with red wine. airport liminal space hours.

taking pictures of sunsets to send to each other. doodling on his hand. staying up until 3am accidentally. back hugs galore. resting his chin atop your head. him getting as close as possible when showing him something on your phone (i'm talking cheek smooshed up against yours). sleepy jun asking for kisses every morning.

living life in the moment because you know the future can wait for you two.

kwon soonyoung

energetic snow days. sledding, snowball fights, building snowmen. energy drinks and all-nighters. watermelon sugar. summer bonfires. the ambiance of muffled music through club bathrooms.

zoo dates. always wins you the biggest prizes at carnivals. his favorite place to nap is your lap. sweaty post-dance practice hugs. he gets pouty if you start a tv show without him. baking brownies at 3am. talks about you non-stop to anyone who will (or won't) listen.

excitement that isn't momentary or overwhelming. excitement that makes life meaningful.

jeon wonwoo

tulips blooming in the spring. waxing gibbous moons. amethyst. resting after a long, busy day. the scent of old, yellowed books. rhythmic clicking of a keyboard. warm, smooth, riverbank stones.

re-adjusting his glasses for him after every kiss. let's you design his character's outfits in video games. tells you about the book he's reading like it's gossip. he's always taking candid photos of you. quiet mornings. elderly couples who see you two are reminded of how they fell in love.

defining love not by how much it's said, but by how it's felt.

lee jihoon

thunderstorms that lull you to sleep. shiny, red guitars coming to life with smooth melodies. the crackle of a fire. rosemary. empty highways at night. lightning that strikes twice.

morning coffee dates at home. napping on his studio sofa while he works. quality! time! absolutely spoils you every chance he gets. pretends to act all cool when you catch him staring. writing songs for you. his hand routinely finds your knee when he's anxious. he prefers intimate and private acts of affection to the alternative.

cherishing all the little things that make your relationship important.

lee seokmin

wishing on dandelions. blue skies. morning dew on grass. golden hour. that burning sensation you get in your lungs when laughing too hard. iced lattes.

always asking permission to kiss you. so, so attentive. falling asleep on facetime. pillow forts. lots, and lots, and lots of nose kisses. him never wanting to leave you in the morning. "five more minutes" type of guy. his favorite feeling in the world is making you laugh.

finally knowing what it means to love someone so much you'd give the world for them.

kim mingyu

sleeping by a window with the sun warming your skin. hearing your favorite song on the radio. silky white sheets. first date jitters. first love. receiving a bouquet of roses.

admires you so, so, much. talks about you 24/7, much to his members' annoyance. (jk, they love you, they just like to tease him about it). literally a sponge the way he starts picking up your habits and slang. he's physically incapable of rejecting your puppy-dog eyes. likes to lay sprawled out on top of you. he'll often seek you out if he needs a little extra support.

the feeling that comes with knowing you've found "the one."

xu minghao

the autumn leaves changing. winter constellations. a solar eclipse. the quiet of a house before everyone wakes. those cozy granny-square blankets. white wine. laughing at scary movies.

wine and painting nights. him always making two cups of tea. art museum dates. swaying together to music in the kitchen. him secretly being a sucker for your doting. has your mannerisms memorized and prides himself on it. somehow always knows what to say when you're feeling down.

growing, learning, and experiencing life alongside each other.

boo seungkwan

warm, summer air. mystery flavored lollipops that somehow taste like every flavor all at once. rosy red cheeks.

teasing each other and inside jokes. nicknames like loser, stupid-head, idiot etc. (affectionate). hours long gossip sessions. kisses that taste of coffee and tangerine chapstick. stars in his eyes whenever you're doing literally anything. having his undivided attention.

resident happy pill and mood-maker seungkwan knowing he can let his mask fall around you without judgement.

hansol vernon chwe

watching city lights blur past in the passenger seat of a car at night. cereal at 1am. falling asleep while watching tv. poorly handmade, yet meaningful gifts. assorted candies. buying road trip snacks.

communicating with a single look. ice cream dates in the middle of winter. speaking purely in movie and tiktok references. late-night conversations that take a weird turn. (you've once debated if aliens would like pineapple on pizza). pretending not to notice how shy he gets when initiating physical affection.

loving the strange, bad, and hidden parts of each other as much as the good.

lee chan

the comforting buzz and motion of a subway at night. toothy smiles. watching reruns of your favorite childhood show. surprise parties. the first snow of the new year. concert lights.

driving at 2am, singing at the top of your lungs. random dance parties in the living room. getting noise complaints and giggling about it. pillow fights and board games, competitive, yet both trying to let the other win cause it'll make them happy. asking him to open jars. him getting exceptionally giddy to open said jars. (you're completely capable, but know he likes to feel needed).

making each other's inner child feel safe.

[cherubfae]

Omg hi! I'm a new follower and I just read your piece of the hazbin cast w/ reader having a panic attack and it was so sweet 🥺If possible could you maybe do the same cast of characters but with what they would do if the reader was on their period/period comfort?

𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔡 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔢 || {𝔥𝔞𝔷𝔟𝔦𝔫 𝔥𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔩}

tags: fluff, comfort, afab gn!reader, I decided to go with ftm for angel in this to try it out (lmk what you think!!) :3, periods in Hell are worse than on Earth I feel like that fits, suggestiveness in luci's

Alastor

"Oh, dear, why are you curled up on the floor in the fetal position? Are you hurt? I smell blood." Alastor coos in crackling static. He nods his head, listening to you explain despite you being facedown in said carpet. He'll procure a hot water bottle for your tummy, some aspirin, and some bitter, dark chocolate. He'll even go get one of those sugary iced coffees you love so much. Given the circumstances, Alastor may even allow you to touch his ears, but his mindful of his antlers if you know what's good for you.

Lucifer

Oh no, his poor sweetheart! The King of Hell goes full Mama Goose mode (you can see where Charlie gets it from) and hunts down whatever he thinks you may need. He'll create a little nest fort for you, spooning you from behind and nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. He's also not opposed of other ways of relief. In Lucifer's own wise words, "Bow-chick-a-wow-wow." (As long as you're up for it, he's not opposed to giving Charlie a sibling.)

Charlie

She's on it instantaneously! Running around scavaging all sorts of items from tampons to pads to candies-- she's not sure of your preferences, so she gets all of them! Only the best for her sweetie pie!! Huddles extraaaa close to you in your shared blanket cocoon, feeding you chocolates and giving you sweet nuzzles.

Vaggie

Immediately sends you off for a hot bath while she changes and washes the sheets so that they're nice, warm, and fresh. She also will prepare your favorite pajamas and snacks, digging through some films for one to watch. Vaggie will do what she can to make sure you're well-rested, hydrated, and most importantly; comfortable.

Husk

Immediately goes to the women of the hotel and asks about what sort of toiletries the hotel has to offer. He's discreet about your situation and grateful for their help. He wants you to feel better as soon as possible even if that means your symptoms haven't fully gone away yet! The scent of blood is strong on you and if he can notice you from a mile away, he's certain others have too. So, he creates a little nest for you two, the bar is closed down for the day, and cuddles you close to his chest.

Angel Dust

He'll spoon you from behind, resting his warm hand on your tummy. From what Cherri has told him, this shit's worse than when you guys were alive. Hell really does have a hard-on for torturing people. Angel will be as vigilant as he can, getting you whatever you may need, reassuring you gently that just because you have your period doesn't change who you are as a person nor how you idenitify. You're you, no matter what your body does or doesn't do.

Vox

What's that? Oh, shit, that's when you-- yeah? Oh, okay got it. That sounds like that sucks. Yeah, he doesn't mind grabbing some things for you but he's a bit stiff when it comes to comfort. He knows what it is for sure and he'll do his best. Velvette might tear him a new asshole. He does genuinely want you to feel better, he doesn't like seeing you in pain. He's just a little lost.

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ���ᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[amongemeraldclouds]

a summer night with the slytherin boys

Ft. Lorenzo Berkshire, Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott

My official entry for week two of @thatdammchickennugget and @finalgirllx's Jinxed July. Challenged myself to do all prompts!

✿ Masterlist | 1.9k words | Fluff, established relationship

Lorenzo Berkshire

Too Sweet

The firewood popped and crackled as you inhaled the smell of burning sugar. You instantly yanked your hand away along with the stick you were holding out. You frowned at the small fire that once was a sweet, innocent marshmallow.

Beside you, Enzo cackled. “Bringing the fire closer to you, dear?” You groaned impatiently. It had been your third attempt at roasting a marshmallow. Having been raised in a concrete jungle, you had never gone camping before nor tried making s’mores. When Enzo invited you to go as part of your summer adventures together, you jumped up and down with excitement.

There was nothing exciting about it now. You stared at the charred remains as the orange glow flickered out in the cool evening air. It seemed the marshmallow was roasting you instead. “Now now, that poor marshmallow did nothing to you,” Enzo said as he lowered the stick, bringing it away from your eye level.

“It’s taunting me,” you snarled.

With an amused smile, he sat closer to you. While you held the stick, he removed your latest victim from the other end and replaced it with a fresh marshmallow. “I’ll show you, okay?”

He wrapped his hand around yours and all the annoyance melted. In your rage, you hadn’t noticed how much closer he had gotten.

When you turned to look at him, you took in the upward curl of his thick lashes that you were always jealous of. His eyes glittered like the stars you were gazing at. His mouth curved with that special smile he only had when he was around you. You had been together for a while now and yet the butterflies still raced around your stomach as if you had just seen him for the first time.

With his hand on yours, he moved the stick back to the fire and it snapped your attention back to the present. “The key here is to bring it just close enough,” he said patiently, “spin it like this so the heat gets distributed evenly.” Your insides seemed to twist along with the motion as heat crept up your cheeks and it wasn’t from the fire.

“And that’s it,” he said, bringing your hand back with a perfectly toasted marshmallow this time. He grabbed the crackers and chocolate you had laid out and pressed the marshmallow in between, squeezing it into gooey goodness.

“I don’t know how I’ll eat that when you’re the sweetest thing here tonight,” you said, beaming up at him.

“And your words alone will give me diabetes,” he quipped, bringing the s’more to your mouth.

You took a bite and closed your eyes, feeling the chocolate and marshmallow melt in your mouth as you chomped on the crunchy crackers. “Never mind. I take that back, it’s sinful for something to taste this good.”

“Hey, no take backs,” Enzo insisted.

Mattheo Riddle

A treacherous wave in the late hour

You pushed Mattheo away and used the momentum to propel you forward, your laughter ringing out into the evening air, sand spraying behind you as you ran towards the sea.

When Mattheo first invited you to go backpacking with him this summer, you nearly said no, because it meant tossing your carefully laid out schedule into the wind. But you didn’t want him to spend another summer alone in his family’s depressing house.

And you hate to admit it, but he was right. There was a thrill that came with living in the moment, not caring about the days ahead. There was also the fact that being with Mattheo meant exploring exotic places, laughing over late night shenanigans, and more adventures in a few weeks than you’ve had in years. You had never felt more alive.

You squealed as the cold water hit your skin, waking you better than any coffee could in the late hour. “I won!” You declared proudly, turning back to see Mattheo joining you.

“You cheated,” he said, playfully splashing water at you.

“You just said, first one in the water wins so I win,” you shrugged. “Now where’s my reward?”

“Yeah?” He said, a dangerous smirk on his face as he prowled towards you. You tried to take a step back but the treacherous wave pushed you closer to him instead.

When he was near enough, he pulled you in, his strong arms locking you in place against his toned body. There was no place you’d rather be anyway. He brought his mouth close to your ear as his hands traced your figure. “I can think of so many rewards.”

Draco Malfoy

A colourful promise

You stepped out the into the evening air and took Draco’s hand as he led you to the balcony of his family’s holiday home overlooking the beach.

You pulled the shawl tightly around you as a chilly breeze drifted past. Draco wrapped a protective arm around your hip to warm you up. For a quiet moment, you watched the rippled glow of the moon on the sea as waves crashed onto the shore and retreated.

“What surprise could you possibly have for me this late in the evening? You could hardly see anything,” you asked.

“That’s exactly why it’s perfect, love,” he winked at you as he pointed to the sky. “Here goes.”

You followed his gaze, unsure what to look at until lights exploded in the sky. Fireworks. You watched in wonder as small circles burst and expanded, illuminating the dark sky.

You looked at his grinning face and watched his features reflect the glowing colors. He promised you the best summer of your life and you told him not to make bold statements. He just scoffed and said ‘watch me’.

And there he was, flying you to different places that summer in a private jet, taking you shopping and dining at the finest restaurants. Now lights exploded in the sky simply because he promised this summer would be memorable.

“Look at the fireworks, not at me,” he said smugly when he caught you staring.

“I just can’t believe you,” you admitted, gazing back at the colourful sky.

“It’s you I can’t believe. See those fireworks? That wonder I saw in your eyes? It’s how you make me feel.”

Blaise Zabini

Summer lights

The wind carried your hair as you propelled yourself forward, letting the swing carry you as you leaned your head back. If you weren’t so wrapped up in the moment, you would have noticed your boyfriend stop his swinging to gaze at you.

He tried to commit the moment to his memory. Your carefree laughter, the clean smell of your shampoo, your beautiful face. He felt so lucky to have you.

You swung back again and the wind brought your hair in the opposite direction, covering your entire face. You laughed at how silly it all was. You planted your feet in the sand to slow the momentum.

Earlier in the day, you were nervous that Blaise was taking you to meet his mum for the first time. A thousand thoughts crossed your mind in the days that led up to that moment. What ifs that kept your heart racing like they were its personal trainer. Blaise assured you that you’d hit it off and surprisingly, you did.

You finally noticed Blaise’s eyes on you. “What? I still don’t have that cake on my face, don’t I?” You ran a hand through your face, “I swear, I wiped—“

Blaise chuckled, “no, I just like seeing you happy.” You mirrored his grin and then a small blinking light beside him lit up.

“You didn’t tell me you had a floating light in the garden,” you remarked.

It was his turn to be confused and he followed your gaze where a few more floating lights appeared. “These are fireflies!”

You gazed around the garden as more and more drew closer, lighting up the garden. It was as if the stars descended from the heavens themselves. You watched them glow in wonder.

“Did you know that if you catch one, you can make a wish?” He said holding out his hand as a firefly landed on his palm. “Like this,” he cupped it and whispered his wish before releasing it back.

“I don’t need to wish for anything, I have everything I need here,” you beamed at him.

“Okay love, I’ll buy all the clothes and hand bags you want,” he teased and you slapped his arm.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

He brought you in for a hug, savouring the way you melted against him. “I know,” he said gently kissing your forehead.

“I’ll buy you all the shoes you want instead,” he quipped.

“Blaise!”

Theodore Nott

Sunshine smile

(A/N: this is the only one that happens during the day and is not an established relationship)

Theodore Nott hated summer with its long, hot days that scorched everything it touched. Public places were more crowded than he’d like. He wouldn’t see his friends again for a few months and he sure as hell wasn’t going to go home to his father. Instead, he went to a resort on a remote island to get away from it all.

He met you while he was sulking over breakfast, trying to get lost in a book. You excitedly introduced yourself and despite being friends with Enzo, Theo could not for the life of him figure out how someone could have so much energy so early in the day. You had recently read the exact book he was reading and loved it!

He was about to ask you to leave when you took the seat across from him and sat down like you owned the place. (He would soon find out that your family actually did.)

You wanted to know his thoughts on the book. When you shared yours, he was surprised how insightful you were, he even found himself agreeing with most of your ideas. Though he kept that to himself.

He was relieved when breakfast was nearly over so he could have his peace and quiet back, but then you offered to be a local guide to the island. When you mentioned a bookstore that contained rare books and lesser known authors, he found that he couldn’t say ‘no’ to you.

That was how he find himself pedaling beside you as you shared the history of your home. There was something so charming about the island as if it were untouched by the world outside it. Just the open air and clear skies.

The quaint little town in the distance was just a small stretch of buildings that contained the necessities. There were other spots you promised to show him in the coming days. In the meantime, you browsed the bookshelves together as promised and he bought a few rare items he was excited to dive into.

When you returned to the resort, you relaxed by the beach chairs, listening to the ocean waves as the sun splashed hues of orange and yellow against the blue sky. Theo opened the book you recommended and was already captivated by the first few pages.

When he looked at you to share his thoughts, he found you peacefully asleep on the chair. He took that opportunity to study you, the way the wind caressed your hair and your chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. He found himself smiling.

Summer, he thought, wasn’t so bad after all.

✿ Masterlist

[bluejutdae]

• Stray Kids as very specific vibes | OT8

Chan: brushing your teeth side by side, making sure the other sleeps enough, late night city dates, plaids, dimples, racing each other on the street, spraying perfume on pillow cases, trying new stuff, 3 am runs at the grocery store, trust, last minute flights, glass clinking, lightnings, early morning fog.

Minho: reading books to each other, cat cafés, cooking together, the crackling of the fireplace, the first snow of the season, camping and fishing, quiet acts of service, giving each others silly gifts, cats stickers all over the house, warm blankets and cups of tea.

Changbin: vanilla scented candles, gym dates, sharing food, laughing carelessly, meeting the families, kissing on the shoreline, summer days, sea salt on your skin, warm hands, blowing on birthday candles, quality time, feeling safe, warm bathrobes, the smell of fresh laundry.

Hyunjin: paint stains, oversized shirts, matching nail polish, staring into each other's eyes, waking up in the middle of the night, heart wrenching movies, holding hands, whispers at night, talking about true love, soulmates, words of affirmations, sharing a blanket, museum dates.

Jisung: hysteric laughing, iced americanos, playing catch, fixing hair behind the ear, sharing earrings, falling asleep on the floor, neon lights, chapped lips and bitten nails, sharing earbuds, calming tones, shaking hands, goodnight pecks, dreaming of flying, Icarus poems, silver jewelry.

Felix: late night train rides, sitting on a car roof to watch the sun rise, the fresh water of a pool, the relaxing presence of your best friend, videogames, arcades games, golden hour, pretty smiles, silly tattoos, sharing playlists, trying new food, learning to braid hair.

Seungmin: study dates, white and baby blue flowers, coffee stained pages, journals and diaries, house keys, silly key chains, good morning videocalls, matching outfits, the warm wind on a summer night, the smell of oranges in the air, the feeling of belonging, tight hugs.

Jeongin: the glint of the snow, cold hands around warm chocolate, daily outfit pics, playgrounds, pranks, sharing secrets, watching reality shows, watching the full moon, counting stars, no fear of being judged, first love, setting goals, singing out loud into fake microphones.

[zeezelweazel]

Your latest Leah fic was unreal! Pls can we get more Leah smut with that dynamic it was insane :)

Leah Williamson| Comfy|

______________________________________

I'm glad you requested this cuz I'm in love with that dynamic as well

('I swear if you say comfy one more time')

I want to write for wally but I have no ideas pls help

TW: strap on use, mommy kink, praise kink, soft sex

____________________________________________________

England's weather is normally very cloudy and cold but it gets worse in winter. You and Leah both hate the unbearable cold but at least it's an excuse to wear your cozy clothes and cuddle on the couch by the fireplace with a cup of hot chocolate.

Normally these days are for relaxation and soft conversations in between sweet kisses but today you have something different planned. These past few days Leah has been very tense and stressed with her new found injury. You're certain your plans for tonight will take her mind of everything.

Leah's favourite wine is swirling in her glass while you pour her a hefty amount. The blonde smiles and thanks you after you finish and place the bottle on the coffee table. She's still visibly nervous, findling with the glass in her hands and simply staring into the red liquid like it holds the secrets of the universe.

You sit in silence for a while, the wood in the fireplace crackles and chirps and you begin to feel the warmth from the wine travel down to your navel. When you abandon you glass on the table and scoot closer, Leah gets the message and does the same. The both of you are sat on the couch facing eachother and you lean in closer. Your hands frame her face softly and Leah smiles at you and you can't resist bringing her in for a kiss. Your lips pushed against eachother slowly at first but the kiss quickly turned passionate. Leah probed your bottom lip with her tongue and you opened your mouth to let her in. With your tongues sliding against eachother, your hands started wandering as well. Your hands went to Leah's waist while the blonde threaded her fingers through your soft hair.

You pulled back from the kiss momentarily and before Leah could react you pulled her hoodie down slightly so you can attach your lips to your neck. Leah sighed and kept her hands on your hair while you started bitting and sucking her neck. After kissing the slowly forming marks on her neck you pulled back and smirked at Leah's expression. Her pupils were blown and her lips were swollen from all the kisses. The defender was panting and you could tell she was close to begging already.

You sat back on the couch and grabbed Leah's hand to urge her to sit on your lap. Your lips connected feverishly once more and Leah slid down your lap to bring her face closer to yours but a sharp gasp left her lips when she felt something hard press against her thigh. Whe she pulled back and was met with a proud smirk from you her pussy throbbed at the confirmation. She looked down at the bulge in your pants that she hasn't previously noticed and her breath caught in her throat.

You pated Leah's hip and the blonde got off your lap immediately. She stood in front of you and you took your pants off. Leah bit her lip in anticipation, her eyes never leaving the place between your thighs as you slowly took your underwear off to reveal your favourite blue strap. It wasn't your biggest one but it was thick and the edges were rigged and it stuffed Leah full. Her cunt clenched around nothing at the sight and her breathing got heavy. You grinned at her, like a wolf to a lamp.

"Take your clothes off princess."

Leah scrambles to do as you said, almost tumbling down at how hurriedly she tried to take off her pants. Now standing in front of you completely bare Leah resisted the urge to shiver. Not because of the cold, the still lit fireplace was doing wanders on the heat inside your house, but because of your eyes full of lust taking in every detail of her body. Your eyes moved from her neck down to her perky breasts, to her chiseled abbs to the wet shin in her inner thighs.

Your face stretched into a smile as you took the fake cock in your fist and started to slowly pump it. The strap hit your clit slightly and you released a breathy sigh at the contact. Your eyes fell shut for a moment, getting lost in the scenarios of what's to come until you heard Leah whimper. You opened your eyes slowly to see Leah with her hand pressing on her lower stomach, desperate to relieve some of the boiling heat that has gathered in her core.

"Come here baby girl. Sit." Leah didn't need to be told twice. She climbed on your lap and your hands found their place on her hips. Leah hoovered over the strap, not really knowing if she's allowed to sink down on it. Her thighs shook and she looked at you with desperation clear on her wide blue eyes. You chuckled and lined up the strap, teasing her slit with the head. Leah bit back a whimper and her thighs spread wider to give you all the access. You bumped her clit with your cock before moving down to her clenching hole. When the head finally slipped in her tight pussy Leah moaned and threw her head back.

Your hands danced across her skin until they reached her pebbled nipples. You took them between your fingers and twisted until Leah yelped and squirmed. You pushed your hips forward once to push your cock deeper into her and Leah took the invitation and sunk down on the cock until she was in your arms with you nestled deep inside of her. You gave her a few seconds to breathe and adjust to the stretch of the thick strap while your fingers continued toying with her tits.

Leah pulled herself up and moved down again, slowly at first, while your hips stayed glued to the couch. Leah was moaning freely, the loud sounds harmonising with the slapping of skin. She braced herself on your shoulders as she bounced on your lap faster with her breasts following her movements in a way that made you salivate.

"That's it beautiful, you take mommy's cock so well." Leah whined and clenched around the silicone strap. A few more minutes had Leah panting in extortion. You know Leah can't come just from this, the angle was slightly awkward with your cock not hitting deep enough and Leah was already growing tired. Your hands returned to Leah's waist and squeezed. The blonde halted her movements and thread her fingers through her hair. Her skin was hot and sweaty and her eyes wild. You thought she's never looked prettier.

You moved your hips lower and Leah whined at the sudden movement but soon the wind was knocked out of her when you started thrusting up, your cock hitting all the right spots while Leah was moaning pornographically.

"That's it pretty girl, let mommy take care of you." Leah whined and nodded as you kept pounding into her. Her hands desperately fisted your hoodie and Leah buried her head in the nape of your neck. You turned your head and pressed a sweet kiss on her hair. Leah was bouncing on your lap from the power of your thrusts and you slithered one hand in between your bodies to thumb at her clit. You pinched the sensitive nub and Leah yelled and her thighs started to shake.

"Mommy please! I-I need to come please!" You smiled and brought your lips together for a passionate kiss. Leah tried to kiss you back but her mouth was dropped open, busy releasing the filthiest of sounds, so she couldn't really reciprocate the kiss. You angled your hips just right and Leah nearly screamed when you hit her sweet spot repeatedly. With her hands still gripping the fabric of your hoodie and her thighs shaking Leah came silently with the slaps of your sweaty skin and the crackling of the wood being the only sounds in the living room.

You kept up the pace of your thrusts but moved your hand away from her clit, not wanting Leah to be overstimulated. You rubbed her back and whispered sweet nothings in her ear while the blonde came down from her high. Leah kissed the side of your neck softly while you kept thrusting into her. The captain whimpered when you started going faster, her pussy already aching and sensitive from her previous orgasm. You shushed her softly while threading your fingers through silky blonde locks.

"You can give mommy one more can't you, my good girl?" Leah nodded once more and brought your lips together for a kiss while you slowed down, opting for long and powerful thrusts rather than fast and sloppy ones. It seemed to have worked because it was starting to get impossible for Leah to keep kissing you with all the moans and whimpers that left her mouth.

You moved both of your hands down to her ass and squeezed the soft flesh before using it as leverage to move Leah's tired body up and down the length of your strap. Leah was putty in your hands, splayed out on top of you and barely moving while you fucked the wind out of her lungs. With every thrust Leah felt like she was coming closer to the inevitable edge as her walls clenched rhythmically around your cock. Leah didn't need to beg or ask for permission this time, she knew she could just let go and let the wave of lust consume her. That's exactly what she did when your hips pressed flush against her and you held her there, with your cock stuffed deep inside of her.

Leah opened her eyes again after taking a few moments to calm her breathing and set her brain back on track to find you smiling down at her.

"You did so well, pretty girl." Leah blushed at the soft words and hid her head on your chest shyly.

"Thank you, I needed that.

____________________________________________________

[starsjulia]

for understanding // leah williamson

a/n : everyone experiences neurodivergence differently, and this isn’t an accurate representation of all neurodivergent people, this is solely based of my personal experience with autism, though neurodivergence comes in many different forms and not just autism.

leah williamson x neurodivergent!reader

part of the perfect universe

The restaurant is beautiful, with low lighting, flickering candles, and soft music drifting from speakers tucked in the corners. You know Leah wanted tonight to feel special. She’d spent the last few days excitedly planning, keeping the details a secret. And you’d felt her excitement too—until you actually stepped inside.

Now, seated across from her, you can feel your pulse quickening in a way that has nothing to do with anticipation. The hum of voices, the clinking of silverware, the constant movement all around you—it feels like the walls are slowly pressing in, making it hard to concentrate on the menu or on anything at in all honestly. You attempt to meet Leah’s gaze, forcing a smile, but your hands are trembling slightly, and you’re sure she’s noticed.

“Hey,” Leah says gently, her eyes softening as she reaches across the table for your hand. She gives it a reassuring squeeze, her thumb rubbing circles against your skin in a way that usually calms you. “You good?”

The words catch in your throat. You don’t want to disappoint her, not when she’s gone to so much effort. You know how much this evening means to her, and you don’t want to ruin it. But every part of you wants to leave, to escape the noise and the lights and be somewhere quieter.

Leah watches you closely, her expression shifting as she seems to read the discomfort on your face. Her hand tightens around yours, and her smile turns soft, understanding. “You know what,” she says, almost as if she’s talking to herself, “I really can’t stop thinking about those new pyjamas we bought, the really soft and warm ones, and sitting by the fire place? do you mind if we go back home?”

You blink, taken aback. She’s suggesting exactly what you want—without you even having to ask. Relief floods over you so quickly it’s almost overwhelming, and you nod, unable to speak past the lump in your throat.

Leah smiles, her eyes warm, and she waves over the waiter to ask if they can pack everything up to go. Within minutes, you’re walking back out into the cool night air, her arm looped through yours. As you breathe in the quiet of the night, you feel the tension in your body finally beginning to ease. Leah’s hand squeezes yours gently, and she glances over at you with a reassuring smile.

Back at home, Leah quickly lights the fireplace and puts on one of your favorite playlists, turning the volume down low. She comes over with the takeout bags, setting everything up on the coffee table. The flickering glow of the fire casts warm shadows across the room, and you can already feel your muscles relax as the heat starts to fill the room. You settle down onto the couch, pulling a soft blanket over your lap, and Leah sits beside you, her arm wrapping around your shoulders.

She nudges a takeout container towards you, grinning as she unwraps her own. “See? Much better,” she murmurs, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “No crowds, no noise—just us.”

You nod, feeling the weight lift a little more with every second in her presence. “It is really really nice,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, occasionally laughing over shared bites or nudging each other to try something new. There’s no pressure, no rush—just the simple joy of being together. And as the fire crackles softly beside you, you realize you’ve never felt so at ease.

After dinner, Leah suggests making hot chocolate, and you watch as she disappears into the kitchen, humming softly. When she returns, she’s carrying two steaming mugs, the tops piled high with whipped cream and marshmallows. She hands you one, settling back onto the couch beside you, her fingers lacing through yours.

“You know,” she says, her voice soft, “I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to hide how you’re feeling. If something’s too much, you can tell me. I’m here for you, I would genuinely do anything in the world if it meant you were happy and comfortable”

You take a shaky breath, her words filling you with a warmth that has nothing to do with the fire or the hot chocolate. “Sometimes… it’s just kinda hard to say it out loud,” you admit, your gaze fixed on the marshmallows melting in your mug. “I don’t want to let you down.”

Leah tilts her head, giving you a small, understanding smile. “You could never let me down,” she whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Your comfort is more important to me than any silly dinner reservation, and in my opinion everyone there seemed too posh and stuck up for my liking”

You look up, meeting her gaze, and your heart swells at the sincerity in her eyes. She means it. She’s always been patient with you, understanding in a way that makes you feel like you’re finally seen. And sitting here, wrapped up together with the night stretching peacefully ahead, you realize just how deeply you love her.

As the fire begins to die down, Leah pulls you closer, tucking you into her side, your head resting on her shoulder. You feel her hand gently rubbing your arm, a steady, soothing motion that slowly lulls you into a state of contentment. The world outside feels far away, and all that matters is this moment—this quiet, perfect moment with her.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?” she asks, her voice equally soft.

“For… knowing me. For understanding me.”

Leah presses a kiss to the top of your head, her fingers still tracing gentle circles against your arm. “I’m just lucky I get to love you,” she says, her words a quiet promise. “And I’ll always be here for you, okay? No matter what.”

You close your eyes, letting her words wrap around you like a blanket. In her arms, with the soft glow of the fire casting warmth over the room, you feel a peace you’ve never known before. And as you drift off in her embrace, you know, without a doubt, that this is exactly where you belong.

[mrdixon]

love to keep me warm

pairing: established daryl x f!reader

wc: 1.3k

warnings: none!

summary: you replace daryl’s coffee with hot chocolate

A/N: first holiday fic is a soft one sorry smut lovers…. stay tuned for christmas. i wanna cuddle him and give him kisses.

masterlist

It was so white outside from the snow, and so cold. Luckily Daryl was bringing in some wood for the fireplace, but that didn’t stop you from putting on your fluffy socks and huge sweater. Humming to yourself as you slid around in the kitchen making a hot chocolate for yourself.

The front door opened and Daryl dropped some logs onto the floor by the door, he grumbled and shut the door while shrugging off his poncho.

“’s fuckin’ cold out there,” he muttered, shaking his head before walking over to you. “Ya look comfy,” he glanced you up and down. You chuckled and took a sip of your hot chocolate and nodded.

“I am,” you beamed and handed your mug over to him. He furrowed his brows, taking a sip and giving it back to you.

“Too sweet, ya like yer coffee like tha’? ‘s pure sugar,” he drawled to which you laughed and shook your head.

“It’s not coffee, it’s hot chocolate.” You put the mug down and watched as he walked back over to the logs.

“Tha’ explains it,” he mumbled under his breath and picked a few logs up to take them over to the fire place, “can ya make me a coffee?”

You rolled your eyes as he went to start a fire, grabbing a mug and boiling some water. You walked over to the cabinet to get the instant coffee, but your hand accidentally grabbed the hot chocolate. You grinned to yourself as you discreetly poured the contents into his mug, pouring the boiled water into the cup before stirring it together.

You brought both mugs into the living room, placing his on the coffee table and sitting on the couch with yours in hand. He turned and smiled slightly as you settled on the couch. He grabbed a blanket and draped it over your legs before grabbing his mug and sitting next to you, kissing your forehead.

“Thanks,” he hummed and took a sip before pulling the mug away, dumbfounded. “Wha’ the fuck did ya do to my coffee?” You laughed, placing a hand on his knee whilst taking a sip from your own mug.

“I made you hot chocolate instead,” you raised your brows playfully. He frowned, sulking into the couch as he took another sip.

“I wanted coffee,” he grumbled. You chuckled softly and reached over to run your fingers through his hair, leaning forward to place a soft kiss along his hairline.

“And I want you to fall asleep. You’ve worked a lot today with all the snow outside, caffeine keeps you awake.” You murmured, rubbing his cheek with your thumb.

“Yeah, tha’s the point.” He grunted, still taking small sips from his mug. “This shit’s too sweet.”

“Can’t hurt to have sugar once in a while,” you hummed, leaning back against the couch and listening to the crackle of the wood burning in front of you.

“If I wanted somethin’ sweet I’d have you,” he mumbled which earned a gentle nudge from you as you placed your mug down.

“Stop complaining and drink it,” you heard a small grumble of annoyance from him, but he kept drinking it. You sighed, leaning on his shoulder as you both sat in silence, enjoying the warmth. You could hear him sip his hot chocolate occasionally, his arm wrapping around you. You hummed happily as his thumb rubbed at your waist, slipping his hand under your sweater and you flinched back at the cold. “Your hands are cold!” You giggled.

He rolled his eyes chuckling and placed his mug down on the coffee table before pushing you down on the couch, his cold fingers tickling your warm skin under your sweater. You laughed, trying to push him away but his body weight held you down. He pressed his palms flat against the sides of your body, you squealed as the cold sent shivers down your spine.

“Daryl!!” You laughed, trying to kick at his stomach. He grunted and pushed your legs apart, placing his hands on your hips and moving down. You narrowed your eyes and tugged his hair. He looked up at you and rolled his eyes.

“’m not doin’ tha’ righ’ now,” he grumbled and lay between your legs, his head resting on your chest. “’m sleepy, yer plan worked.”

You chuckled, relaxing as his weight settled over you, your fingers moving to caress his head gently. He huffed and nuzzled against your chest, his big arms wrapping around your waist. You reaches down and pulled the blanket over the both of you, his head tilting upward to look at you. He rested his chin on your chest and his bottom lip jut out a little. You smiled, cupping his cheek with one hand while the other rest on the back of his head.

“Go take a nap, I’ll be right here when you wake up.” You grinned, rubbing the skin underneath his eyes. “You're heavy anyway.”

He snorted, squeezing you tight and burying his face into the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that went up to your chin. “I love ya,” he whispered and placed a sweet kiss on your lips before returning to his previous position. You hummed softly, combing your fingers through his hair while he closed his eyes. His cheek was pressed against your chest and you leaned over to press your lips against his temple, holding your lips there while your free hand rubbed his back.

“I love you too,” you whispered, leaning back against the armrest of the couch. While it appeared he was sleeping, his thumb rubbed just under your ribcage in acknowledgement. The wood crackled in the fireplace, the smell of it filling your nose with comfort, feeling especially warm and cozy with your boyfriend’s weight on you. You wanted your hot chocolate but with his weight on you, it’d be a difficult stretch, but you tried anyway. You grunted, outstretching your arm towards the coffee table, your fingers so close…

A longer arm joined yours, reaching out to grab your mug and place it in your hands. Your head craned to see Daryl, his eyes still closed, handing your mug to you. “Now stop movin’.” You chuckled, ruffling his hair slightly with your other hand before moving up a bit to take a sip of the warm liquid. His arm returned at your left side, both hands now squeezing your waist to keep you in place. You giggled slightly at the feeling, finishing the rest of your hot chocolate.

“Okay wait, I need to put this back on the table.” You grinned.

“Don’ ya dare,” he muttered and grabbed the mug from you, placing it on the table before dragging you under him so you two could cuddle. You breathed out softly, lightly dragging your nails up and down the sides of his face. He practically melted and put his entire body weight on you, not that you mind. You felt a kiss on your collarbone, chuckling.

“You don’t wanna finish your hot chocolate?” You teased, grooming his hair back. His face scrunched up in annoyance but he didn’t stop you, just continued to press kisses along your collarbones.

“I already did,” he mumbled to your surprise. You said nothing else and just continued to run your fingers through his hair absentmindedly, not even flinching when his hands crept underneath your sweater again. “Yer not cold anymore?”

You glanced down at him, his eyes closed and his face tinted pink from the warmth, and probably from you. His hands mimicked yours in his hair, his hands dragging up and down your sides lightly, the feeling slightly tickly. “Mmh, no. Got my love to keep me warm.” Your eyes fluttered closed as he leaned up to press a long, sweet kiss against your lips. Keeping them closed even as he pulled away. His head went back to your chest, and you could feel him nod against your skin. Silence washed over you both as drowsiness took over, the both of you slowly drifting off to sleep as you lay under the blanket by the fire.

[steviewashere]

My Kingdom For a Kiss Upon His Shoulder

Rating: General CW: None for this one! Tags: Post-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Steve Harrington Loves to Bake, They are In Love Your Honor, Bartender Eddie Munson

For @steddie-week | July 4th Prompt: Trade | WC: 661

Title from Jeff Buckley's "Lover, You Should've Come Over", but tweaked it to make it gay.

🍪—————🍪 “Trade?” He asked, holding out a freshly baked cookie. It was a new hobby Steve had picked up and Eddie adored it. Not only did it put him in a cute, pastel blue, short apron; but it also made him produce baked goods from thin air all the time. He took up on baking as a means to put negative thoughts and energy at bay. It suited him. Made him especially domestic; especially sweet.

Eddie hummed at the offered cookie. “I don’t have anything to give back,” he pointed out. Gestured with his empty hands to hammer the point.

Steve came to him then. Shuffling over the kitchen tiles—they were cracked and probably needed a good wash, but they were home, oddly enough. They lived in their own apartment now, so coming home to Steve baking, to him humming a song in that sweet, crackling, raspy way he does, and to him exhausted and soft on their dilapidating, thrifted sofa—it was all like coming home. Because it was home, Eddie supposes. And it was warm, warmer when Steve finally met him in the kitchen’s doorway.

“How ‘bout a kiss?” Steve asked, soft, drenching. The way his cookies are when paired with a tall glass of milk.

He smirked gently. His insides were like raw honey. Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever been treated so…considerately. Doesn’t think he’s ever been wanted in this tender, small way before. “Mmm, okay,” Eddie murmured, “gotta warn you, though. The manager let me eat a couple baskets of garlic fries.”

Steve was close, not enough to touch noses, but enough for his warmth to hit Eddie like a stray ember. He’s ready to be engulfed, but he waits. Fires don’t start without effort.

“You have a little bit of beer?” Steve whispered. His breath smelt like chocolate chunks and coffee.

“Half of a banquet. Manager’s giving me a raise, had to celebrate,” Eddie responded just as softly.

Then, no warning needed, Steve leaned in. Closed the gap. A quick peck, nothing more. But Eddie licked his own lips when they pulled apart. Whatever spit had slicked Steve’s lips tasted just as his mouth smelled—sweet milk chocolate, their dark brew instant coffee, and mint chocolate chip ice cream; something to fill a craving while he waited for his cookies to bake, Eddie could guess.

The cookie was placed in Eddie’s left palm, fingers forced to wrap around the golden, crispy edge. Crumbs litter the webbing between his fingers, but if he plays his cards right, maybe Steve’ll clean that up for him. “Made them the way you like,” Steve spoke softly, “brown butter with chocolate chunks instead of chips. Eat it and soak up the bit of alcohol, okay?”

“Don’t have to tell me twice, sweetheart. Promise me something, though?”

Steve’s hand closed around Eddie’s and the cookie. He hummed imploringly. Eyes relaxed, a shimmer to them, a sheen of indulgence to him.

Eddie swayed close. Nose to nose. Kissed Steve just because.

“Promise you’ll let me trade a kiss to have you tonight?”

His nose was rubbed against by Steve’s. Their foreheads accidentally knocked together, not hard enough to cause concern, something closer to a cat’s love-tap. Now that he was closer, Eddie could smell his floral, professional shampoo and his new bergamot body soap and the peach cleanser he used on his face. An arm slung itself around his waist, drawing him in closer. Finally, the fire was engulfing him. Eddie sweated with anticipation as he laid his own arm across Steve’s shoulders.

“You already have me, Eds.”

“Good,” Eddie whispered, “because I’ve been wanting you all day. Want you all the time.”

Steve hummed at that. Sweet, raspy, low, crooning. He gently swayed them side to side as if there was music, but it was only their breath, only the thrum of their refrigerator. And that was enough to persuade Eddie to trade another kiss for a lifetime of Steve’s love.

🍪—————🍪

[cosmerelists]

Rosharans Rate Foods Not Native to their Planet

As requested by @makothedorito :)

@makothedorito wanted to know what would happen if Stormlight characters encountered food not native to their planet. Here's what I think!

1. Szeth reviews Mountain Dew

Szeth: Horrible. Szeth: A bright, unconscionable green color. Sickly, horribly sweet. Like acidic poison in my throat. Szeth: Also made me feel, strangely, as though even without powers, I could fly. Szeth: ... Szeth: 3/5 stars.

2. Lift reviews Mountain Dew

Lift: Actually,SzethonlytooklikeonesipbeforeItookitfromhim. Lift: IsawthecrazylookhewasgettinginhiseyesandIwaslikenosir. Lift: Luckily,IdrankthewholebottleandI'mnotbeingaffectedatall! Wyndle: [crying]: Mistress, PLEASE use Regrowth I think you're dying!

3. Shallan reviews chocolate

Shallan: Oh, 5/5 for sure! Shallan: Radiant likes the dark chocolate because the "bitterness adds to the sweetness," apparently. Shallan: Veil likes milk chocolate coating other things--so like sugar with another, harder layer of sugar. Shallan: I gotta say--I like the bars! Something about being able to crack off pieces and eat them is so satisfying. Adolin: So the 19 wrappers I see around our room... Shallan: Head's up, I may never sleep again!

4. Rushu reviews coffee

Rushu: My research indicated that this drink is supposed to make you alert and eager for action! Rushu: But...my thoughts have never BEEN so sedate. Honestly, I could take a nap right now. Rushu: Odd. Rushu: 4/5, I suppose.

5. Nomad reviews hot 'n' spicy wings

Nomad: [a single tear running down his face] Nomad: Finally...some good fucking food...

6. Renarin reviews steak

Renarin: You would think that "well done" is the opposite of "badly done" but Renarin: ... Renarin: I suppose I know what it is like to eat leather.

7. Bridge Four reviews pizza

Lopen: Man, it's great! Look at this one--so thin and droopy you have to roll it up to eat it! Rock: What is your insanity? This one that is so thick you must cut into it with a large knife is the way to go. I want my pizza to be as deep as my fist. Lopen: Thin is better!! Rock: Thick is superior!! Skar: I can't say why, but I'm partial to the one cut into squares. Really crackling crust, too. It just feels right, somehow... Rock: Skar, friend, I respect your opinion even though it is 100% wrong. Kaladin: Isn't all pizza just a tad...greasy? Lopen: Ha ha! You say such weird things somethings, Kaladin! Lyn: Ooooh....this one with ham and the sweet yellow fruit is AMAZING! Best pizza of all time hello?? Lopen: ... Rock: ... Skar: ... Kaladin: ... Lopen: I can't believe we have to kick Lyn out of Bridge Four. Lyn: HEY

[its-avalon-08]

i love the angst! like what would charles and y/n do when they fight> headcannon form thanks!

charles leclerc x fem!reader - when they're angry at eachother message from anon - Hi! Can you change it to - what would charles and y/n do to take care of eachother when they fight.

Y/N picks up Charles' favorite takeout even though he's being a grumpy git about the whole fight, leaving it on the counter with a silent "don't starve yourself" note.

Charles makes sure to leave the coffee pot full despite their argument, knowing a good night's sleep after a fight is out of the question.

In the midst of their cold war, Y/N remembers Charles hates showering with cold water and adjusts the thermostat before he gets in.

Charles, despite being fuming, remembers Y/N's forgotten project deadline and discreetly reminds a colleague to forward her the missing data.

Y/N, while stewing, notices Charles hasn't packed his lucky socks and throws them in his bag with a glare that says "don't mess up without them."

Charles, after a particularly heated exchange, sets the alarm on Y/N's phone a few minutes earlier than usual, a silent "I don't want you to be late" tucked away.

Y/N, even though they haven't spoken in hours, leaves a box of Charles' favorite chocolates by his side of the bed with a small, defiant, "there."

Charles, in a fit of stubbornness, puts on a new movie Y/N had been wanting to see, silently inviting her to join him on the couch.

In the middle of a tense stand-off at the grocery store, Y/N grabs Charles' favorite cereal despite his earlier grumbling about needing a healthier option.

During a heated argument at a cafe, Charles, mid-sentence, notices Y/N forgot her usual sugar packets and flags down the waiter for her.

Charles, mid-scoff at Y/N's comment, sees a street vendor selling her favorite flower and impulsively buys a bouquet, shoving it into her hand with a mumbled "kiss me now?"

In the middle of a tense breakfast, Y/N catches Charles wincing at a sore muscle and, pride swallowing her anger, reaches across the table to discreetly offer him a pain reliever.

Charles, while pretending to be engrossed in his phone at a cafe, flags down their usual waiter with a subtle nod, knowing Y/N will - forget to order her favorite latte in their current state.

During a heated argument at a gas station, Y/N, fuming, grabs the pump and fills Charles' car with gas anyway, throwing him the keys with a grumble.

Charles, after a particularly stubborn silence, walks past Y/N "accidentally" bumping into her shoulder, dropping a new book he knows she's been eyeing.

a bonus scene of charles apologising and y/n apologising :

⋆ charles saying sorry : The air crackled with unspoken apologies in their apartment. Charles, ever the racer, paced like a caged lion, while Y/N pretended to be engrossed in a book, the furrow in her brow a dead giveaway of her lingering annoyance. Finally, Charles couldn't take it anymore. He tiptoed closer, the floorboards groaning under his weight.

Y/N held her breath, pretending not to notice. Suddenly, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against a solid chest that smelled faintly of engine oil and his signature cologne.

"Alright, alright," Charles mumbled against her hair, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. "I messed up. Big time."

Y/N bit her lip, torn between holding a grudge and melting in his embrace.

Charles, sensing her hesitation, nuzzled his face into her hair. He inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of her shampoo and vanilla body lotion a soothing balm to his racing heart. "You smell like sunshine," he murmured, his voice husky.

A soft smile tugged at Y/N's lips. "That's not exactly an apology, Leclerc," she teased, her voice barely a whisper.

Charles chuckled, a rich sound that vibrated against her back. "Fine," he sighed, tilting her head back with a gentle finger under her chin. His eyes, the color of the Monegasque sky after a summer rain, held a plea that was hard to resist. "I'm truly sorry, Y/N. Can you ever forgive this stubborn Monegasque?"

Y/N looked into his eyes, the anger slowly dissolving into a puddle of affection. "Maybe," she said, her voice playful.

Charles, unable to wait any longer, leaned in and captured her lips in a soft kiss. It started slow and sweet, a gentle apology that spoke volumes. Then, as his frustration melted away, the kiss deepened, a silent promise that they'd work through anything together.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless and smiling, Y/N snuggled back into his embrace. "Just promise you'll think twice before doing that again," she muttered, her voice muffled against his chest.

Charles chuckled, tightening his hold on her. "Scout's honor," he whispered, and for now, in the warmth of his arms, Y/N knew she believed him.

⋆ y/n saying sorry : The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy like a Monaco summer night. Y/N sat huddled on the couch, stealing glances at Charles slumped in the armchair across from her. The air hung heavy with unspoken apologies.

She couldn't hold out any longer. With a sigh, she rose and padded over to him. Charles moved slightly but Y/N surprised him. She launched herself onto his lap, burying her face in his chest.

"Charles," she mumbled, her voice muffled by his t-shirt. Her arms wrapped around him like a koala's, leaving him no room to escape.

He stiffened for a moment, unsure how to react. Then, a small smile played on his lips. "Alright, alright," he chuckled, his voice warm despite the tension. "What's this about, then?"

Y/N squeezed him tighter. "Sorry," she mumbled, the word muffled against his shirt.

Charles felt a wave of warmth wash over him. He knew that was her way of apologizing, stubborn and sweet all at once.

"Come on, Y/N," he teased, trying to peek around her head. "You gotta say it where I can hear you."

Y/N remained stubbornly silent, her grip unwavering. "Sorry," she repeated, a little louder this time.

Charles couldn't help but chuckle again. He placed a hand on her back, gently stroking it. "Alright, alright, I get it. You're sorry."

But Y/N wasn't finished. "No," she mumbled, her voice firm. "Look at me and say it's okay."

Charles sighed, a happy sound. He reached up with his other hand, tilting her chin up until their eyes met.

Her eyes, usually full of fire, were soft with regret now. "I messed up," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "Can you forgive me?"

Charles could resist anything except Y/N like this. He leaned down, his lips brushing hers. "Yeah," he murmured against her mouth. "It's okay."

The moment he said the words, Y/N's face broke into a radiant smile. Before he could react further, she peppered his face with kisses, small, quick pecks that chased away the last remnants of their argument.

Charles laughed, pulling her even closer. "Alright, alright, I get it," he said, his voice thick with amusement. "You're forgiven."

Y/N snuggled into his embrace, a contented sigh escaping her lips. In the quiet of their home, surrounded by the warmth of his love, the fight already felt like a distant memory.

[faithshouseofchaos]

“Dancing in December” — Quinn Hughes— x reader

Word count 547

Fluff

Tagged — @purplephantomwolf and @toasttt11

The smell of pine and cinnamon filled the air, the soft glow of the Christmas tree casting a warm light across the living room. Snow was falling gently outside, blanketing the world in a serene hush, but inside, the crackle of the fireplace and the cheerful melody of Christmas music brought the space to life.

You were swaying in the middle of the room, your arms full of ornaments as you tried to figure out where to hang the last few. Quinn sat cross-legged on the couch, watching you with a fond smile, his hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate.

“You know,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re putting all the good ornaments on one side of the tree.”

You turned to him with an exaggerated gasp. “How dare you accuse me of such a crime! I’m distributing them perfectly evenly.”

He chuckled, setting his mug down on the coffee table. “Yeah, sure you are.”

“Fine, if you’re so confident, you can do it yourself.” You plopped the box of ornaments onto the floor and crossed your arms, smirking at him.

Quinn stood, brushing off his sweatpants as he walked over to you. “I’ve got a better idea.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he grabbed your hand and spun you in a slow circle.

“Quinn!” you said, laughing as you nearly dropped one of the ornaments.

“What?” he asked, his lips quirking into a boyish grin. “You can’t just listen to Christmas music and not dance. It’s a crime against the holidays.”

He reached over and gently took the ornament from your hand, setting it aside before tugging you closer. The upbeat rhythm of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree filled the room as Quinn started swaying back and forth, his movements a little awkward but undeniably charming.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, though your laughter betrayed you.

“And you’re not trying hard enough,” he teased, spinning you again.

You gave in, matching his steps as he pulled you around the living room. At first, you were both just goofing around, your laughter echoing off the walls as he twirled you under his arm and dipped you dramatically. But as the song changed to something slower—Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas—his grip on your hand softened, and he pulled you closer.

The laughter faded, replaced by a quiet, tender moment as you rested your head against his chest. Quinn’s arms wrapped around you, holding you gently but firmly, like he never wanted to let go.

“You’re not bad at this,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his hoodie.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your hair. “I’ve got a good partner.”

The two of you swayed in silence for a while, the music fading into the background as the world outside disappeared. It wasn’t until the song ended that you pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him.

“Merry Christmas, Quinn,” you said softly.

His lips curved into a small, genuine smile, his eyes shining in the glow of the tree. “Merry Christmas.”

And with that, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, the kind of kiss that made you feel like you were home—no matter where you were.

[heavenlylie]

lover

pairing: tara carpenter x fem!reader (could be gn!reader too)

summary: you and tara shared enchanted nights under christmas lights, intertwining your hearts in a destined love story. your love became a symphony, echoing through years, forever harmonizing your souls.

warnings: none

word count: 1.4k

a/n: this was based on the song Lover by Taylor Swift. i'm a huge swiftie and this just felt right, it was literally so heartwarming to write this with lover on repeat. also let's pretend i did not just disappear for 6 months! anyway enjoyyy!

The winter winds whispered through the streets of New York City, carrying with them a promise of enchantment. Amid the soft glow of Christmas lights that adorned the city, Tara and you found yourselves entwined in a story that seemed to be written in the stars.

The snowflakes danced around the two of you like tiny white fairies, punctuating the silence of the night with a magical sparkle. Tara's cheeks were rosy, her eyes bright with joy. You smiled at her, and she laughed, the sound echoing through the air as if it were the only thing in the world that mattered.

You reached for her hand, your fingers intertwining as you looked up into the sky, searching for the stars in the night. You both paused, taking in the beauty of the city and the warmth of the moment. Then, you turned to each other and, without a word, stepped forward, deeper into the embrace of the night.

Your hearts connected in those moments, and you both knew that this was something special that would last forever. You were finally in the place you'd been dreaming of - together, in love, and at home. The city was your canvas, and together you created a living masterpiece that you would never forget.

The night was alive with promise, and every step you took together revealed a new layer of excitement. You stopped to admire the holiday decorations that adorned shop windows, and you couldn't help but share secret glances as you laughed at your own stories and memories. A feeling of contentment filled your heart as you held hands and looked into one another's eyes, feeling as if the world was just right this very moment.

You eventually reached an open-air cafe, its tables lit only by the stars in the sky. After ordering drinks, you moved to one of the tables furthest from the city's hustle and bustle.

Comfort feeling your heart knowing that Tara would always save a seat for you, her lover. The sound of laughter around you lingered in the air like soft music, fuelling a shared sense of peace and joy between yourselves.

You began talking about everything - life, love, dreams - until finally there were no more words to be said; just silence that spoke volumes through comfortable silences. The night gradually faded away into morning light without either of you noticing as you stroll through Central Park, time felt irrelevant when it came to your connection.

As dawn arrived, so did an awareness that this night would remain forever etched in both your hearts and minds as something special beyond compare. With one last lingering glance at each other over steaming cups of coffee, Tara smiled softly at you before taking your hand once again and leading both back home.

You stepped through the door of your apartment, a cozy retreat that you had created with Tara. As soon as you crossed the threshold, the outside world melted away and it felt as if nothing else existed but the two of you. This was your kingdom, a safe space filled with laughter and love where no one else could enter.

Here, there were no rules or expectations; just comfort and contentment in each other's presence. In the evenings, you cuddled up on the couch in front of a crackling fire, sipping hot chocolate and talking about your days.

You shared stories and secrets, little moments of joy that had occurred throughout the day — experiences that only you two could understand. As time passed, your conversations slowly transformed into stargazing sessions; mugs in hand, you marvelled at the night sky in amazement.

During wintertime especially, these moments became sacred rituals. The warmth of your connection melted away any chill outside as cuddles replaced blankets and cups of tea replaced mugs of hot chocolate.

As time moved forward so did both your hearts - protecting all the memories made within those walls - so much so that it seemed impossible for anything to break them apart ever again. These were special days that neither one of you would ever forget because here in this little apartment was where two hearts entwined forever made a home.

The apartment began to feel like a canvas for your love, painted with the hues of shared meals, tangled limbs, and whispered secrets. You created your own little world inside those walls, a place where nothing else mattered but the two of you. It was here that your souls connected and intertwined in an indescribable dance.

Time no longer seemed to exist as minutes turned into hours and days fading away into weeks without either one of you noticing. Your connection was more than just physical; it was an intangible bond that neither of you could explain but both knew existed nonetheless.

Even in the midst of friends filling the space with laughter and chatter, your connection remained the heart of it all — unbreakable and unwavering in spite of any outside forces.

As months flew by, so did the moments shared within those four walls, each new experience bringing even deeper understanding and appreciation for one another.

It seemed impossible for anything to ever break apart this bond between you two - not distance or time or anything else this world throws at you - for within these walls, a love had been forged that would remain forever etched in both your hearts and minds as something special beyond compare.

The seasons marched on, leaving footprints in the sands of your relationship. As three summers came and went, your love deepened with every passing day. The passage of time only seemed to enhance the resonance of your emotions, each moment engraving itself into your hearts. In the midst of these fleeting yet timeless moments, you knew that a lifetime would not be enough for either one of you to express the depth of your love for one another.

As autumn arrived bringing it's crisp air and colourful foliage, you decided to make a promise of forever; a promise to stand by each other no matter what life had in store. So on an early Saturday morning in October, with friends and family gathered around you two, right where it all began; you exchanged vows of eternal love and commitment.

In the presence of those who have known and loved you both since the beginning, you stood as a testament to the enduring power of love. The vows you exchanged held the weight of promises to cherish and support one another, no matter what the future held.

As you looked into each other's eyes, you knew that your hearts were forever intertwined; here was a beautiful moment that neither one could put into words - but instead celebrated with tears of joy and elation for this was exactly where they wanted to be for eternity.

Years unfolded like the enchanting notes of a beautiful symphony, delicately weaving together into a melody of love that grew stronger with every passing moment. With each year that passed, your love story blossomed into something even more extraordinary, like a flower opening its petals to the sun's gentle caress.

The warmth and tenderness between you radiated like the soft glow of Christmas lights, illuminating not only the city's streets but also the depths of your souls. And just like those lights that danced through the winter nights until the dawn of January, your love continued to shine brilliantly in every season of your journey.

The memories of your first winter together hold a special place in your hearts, like a treasured memento hidden amongst the pages of a favorite book. The laughter that echoed through your private universe created a symphony of joy that resounded with warmth and comfort. It was a time of shared whispers, stolen glances, and stolen kisses, as the promises exchanged on that momentous day bound your souls together in an unbreakable bond.

These precious memories, like delicate threads, were etched in the tapestry of your love, weaving a story that would be cherished for eternity.

As you reflect upon the chapters of your love story, you realize that your journey together can be likened to a symphony — a beautiful composition that evokes emotions and stirs the deepest parts of your being.

The enchanting melody of your love resonates within your hearts, forever playing in perfect harmony. It is a symphony that is timeless and everlasting, destined to echo throughout the annals of your love story, for it is a melody that will endure. Tara would be your lover, forever and ever.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Blizzard | Cassian x Reader

Day 2: Wrapped in a soft, fuzzy blanket w/ Cassian

Summary: During one of the worst storms in Illyria, Cassian, of course, decides to visit you and travel through said storm.

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: sort of mentions of misogynists, just a lotta fluff tho<3

A/N: first cozytober!! took me a while to get around to this one, but hope you enjoy some fluff with our boy cass<3

Requests are open!

The hail fell hard against the house, pelting it with all of its strength, as you lay comfortably inside your home.

The weather had been absolute hell lately, storms blowing in from what could only be Winter Court in its worst months, or when its High Lord was moodiest. Illyria often had cold weather, and you were prepared with your thick leathers and blankets to keep you insulated and warm, but even this was a different level.

The fire crackled in the hearth, sparks not flying far before being caught with a hint of magic that your friend’s brother had woven for you after the first time your wood flooring had gotten burnt from the sparks.

Not to mention the fire it had almost started.

The cup of hot chocolate was warm in your hand as you sipped at it, thick book held open with one hand, and fingers that were beginning to grow sore as you shifted under the blanket pile, not even the insulated walls of your home able to keep the cold completely out.

Not even a fire was keeping it out. You wondered what would work, at this point.

No hanging your clothes out to dry either, since they would be frozen solid by the time you got them back. Or washing them, really, considering that was usually an outside activity that the females of the camp would do together while gossiping or chatting. The more popular activities of the day were watching the males spar during chores, giggling amongst each other, and pointing out who was the most attractive.

None of that today, though, you could only hope your friends were bundled up with their families, waiting the disastrous storm out.

With the way the winds howled past the house to almost a shrieking sound, you doubted most of the camp would be undamaged by now. The homes your people had built were meant to last generations and usually did with their thick walls and ingenious structure, but storms like these could cause a few cracks or holes to pop up, maybe even a few roofs to cave in or be blown away to the mountains.

It only meant more work for the men once this whole thing blew over.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you realized that you hadn’t turned a page in quite a few minutes, and the hot chocolate was beginning to grow colder in your hands. Sighing, you set the bookmark in between the nook of the pages, and closed the book, setting it down on the coffee table in front of the couch you were sitting on.

Right when you went to stand up, a loud knock on your door jolted you, tapping once, twice, thrice impatiently as you walked over, trying to look through the small peephole-like area on the wall, only for the swirling snow to make it impossible to make anything out.

Who would be out in this storm?

Who even could be out in this storm without getting frostbite or worse?

Hesitantly setting your mug down, you laid your palm on the freezing cold doorknob, twisting as it groaned and opening the door.

You were immediately met with wind that seemed to slice into your skin, small drops of ice pelting you, snow blowing into your home and melting into a puddle near the fireplace as the man stepped in, a man you recognized, if not for his stupid grin he wore ear-to-ear.

“Cassian, what are you doing out here in the middle of a-“

You cut yourself off with an exasperated sigh as you placed both hands against the door, trying to push it shut, and failing against the wind. He watched, smirk obvious as the cocky bastard proceeded to use one hand to push the door shut and lock it for you.

You shot him a glare, folding your arms, and he chuckled, pulling you into a hug against his snow-covered form, cold gloves holding you.

“Missed you..”

He murmured, nuzzling up against you even as you squealed from the freezing temperature of his skin.

“Get off, you’re getting me wet!”

You scolded, pushing him off as he gave a pouty look like the dog he was, and you stormed over to the bathroom near your bedroom, grabbing a towel and unfolding it before wrapping it around his shoulders, hoping it would help a bit for now.

“I’ll be fine, just want cuddles.”

He said, trying his best to woo you into agreeing as his wings tried to flare in a way that usually made you melt, only for them to twitch from the cold. He grimaced, and you gave him yet another stern look.

“I’ll go find you clean clothes,”

You grumbled, and after a trip to the bedroom where you found one of his oversized shirts you kept and a pair of boxers and shorts he’d left over during his last visit that looked relatively clean, you helped him out of the stiff clothes that had water pooling at his feet, throwing his gloves onto the coffee table, patting his cold limbs with a towel and helping him into the clean clothes.

Then came the most difficult task—getting his boots off.

The laces were frozen solid to the tough material that was molded around his foot, almost.

You tugged at the strings, pulling with all your might, trying to break them free to unlace them, and failing miserably as he raised a brow, seemingly amused. He sat on the couch, legs stretched out til his feet met the floor.

“Need some help, darlin?”

You shook your head, gritting your teeth as you dug your feet into the ground, pulling harder and harder until finally—the laces came unstuck—and your ass hit the floor too.

The fire must’ve helped thaw the ice a bit faster than you anticipated.

He tried to muffle his laugh, but failed miserably, trying to make up for it by picking you up off the floor with big, now-warm, hands and sitting you right next to him as he hoisted his thick shoes up to where he could reach them, and his calloused fingers roughly tugged, until the string was undone and the boot slipped off. It was followed by a nearly frozen solid sock, then the other boot after more tugging, and you taunting him, then the other sock.

Both of you heaved a sigh of relief when he was finally out of all his storm-worn clothing.

You reached over to grab the mug of hot chocolate you’d set down earlier, only to be met by a completely cold drink of milk, all the chocolate had sunk to the bottom over time. You tried shaking it to mix it back up, but you also really didn’t want to walk all the way to the kitchen to heat it back up over the stove.

Cassian let out a low hum as he watched your predicament, slowly managing to get you to inch closer to him till you were practically on his lap.

“You wanna see a cool party trick I learned?”

He asked with that grin, the one that said he was about to do something incredibly stupid but entertaining. With a sigh, you decided to humor him this time.

“I’d love to, Cass.”

The sarcasm must’ve been apparent in your tone, because he snorted, before reaching over to the coffee table and grabbing up his glove he’d taken off from earlier. The red siphon gleamed as he slipped the material on for a moment, taking the mug gently from your hands and setting it on top of the siphon.

You stared for a moment, confused, and he seemed to realize this and spoke up.

“Just…say something that’ll make me mad. Anything.”

After a few seconds of pause, you grinned, eager for an opportunity to tease your favorite Illyrian.

“Rhys said your long hair looks stupid.”

It was believable enough, really, with how much of a fashion diva the lordling was at times.

He scowled, and surely enough, a flicker of light from the siphon, and the liquid inside began fizzling, almost boiling. Your eyes widened as you looked at the mug, letting out a little noise of surprise, and he grinned broadly as he handed you the now-warm hot chocolate and took the glove off, throwing it back onto the coffee table.

“Told you it was cool.”

He said with a smirk, hands enclosing around your waist as he leaned back against the cushions of your couch, pulling the thick blankets over the both of you. You took a sip of the hot chocolate, giving a hum of thought as you settled down into the warm material, and the warm Illyrian enveloping you. It was only when you lifted the mug to his lips, and he took a long swig of the warm, rich drink that reminded him of Rhys’ mother’s cooking, that you finally relented.

“It was a little cool.”