#I have literally like every chapter planned but I would love to get some feedback
Text
gather ‘round people
I had a question for you all. Is there any scene or thing you would like to see from the series?
18 | Are we still friends? | Cruel intentions | Ivy | Do I wanna know?
I really want to hear your thoughts 💭
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fuck me there's so many fic ideas ricocheting around my noodle and I can't focus on a single one long enough to get it postable so I've got SO many WIPs at every stage of development
Might be posting some Opinion Polls for inspo to try to get these out :p also please let me know if you have any Goldenheart prompts you'd like to see from me! While I'm not taking requests so can't guarantee I'll mak them I'm always open to new ideas for my in-progress fics and to start up even more WIPs lol
Here's a list of what I'm working on. Please note that any of the ones that are currently sfw reserve the right to become nsfw as I write them. They are all planned to be either drabbles, one-shots, or only a couple chapters max
1. (Movie, nearly complete) Goldenheart coming out to Amb's parents. Rich Family Angst ensues (sfw)
2. (Comic, in progress) Ballister decides to propose to Ambrosius years after reconciling. Wholesome in-love homosexuality ensues (currently sfw, subject to change)
3. (Movie, not yet started) Ambrosius and Ballister get matching/coordinated tattoos that result in terrible angst after the arm-chopping incident. (sfw, subject to change)
4. (Comic, not yet started) Ballister notices that Ambrosius got a new tattoo not long after they got back together. Embarrassed twink is exposed for being an utter simp (nsfw)
5. (Comic, in progress) Ballister and Ambrosius get physically intimate for the first time way before they get emotionally intimate after everything goes down, because they are emotionally mature and know how to fix damaged relationships no they dont (nsfw explicit obviously. It's porn lol)
6. (Comic, almost complete) Ballister and Ambrosius do a kinky science roleplay (literally just kinky porn nsfw)
And there's probably a few more I'm forgetting about lol. Anyway for my first of these polls, which of these is the public most interested in seeing?
*please note that the winner of the poll isn't guaranteed to be posted first but it would give me insight on what to prioritize. I just really like getting feedback on my ideas!
#nimona#ambrosius goldenloin#goldenheart#ballister blackheart#ballister boldheart#nimona graphic novel#nimona 2023#polls#yywihh fics#nimona fanfic
63 notes
·
View notes
Text
"About the Blogger" Meme
Thanks for tag @bioloyg <3
Star Sign(s): Scorpio Sun (I literally never remember my other ones, I should probably memorize them)
Favorite Holidays: Christmas and Halloween. even tho i find it harder to feel the holiday spirit up until the very last minute i love christmas so much. and not even to be corny but its true that when you grow up you start to care less about the presents and more about the memories with family and friends.
i grew up in a religous family so my parents didnt let me celebrate halloween but i still love it with my whole heart. im a november baby so i love fall and all things eerie and spooky.
Last Meal: McDonalad's snack wrap and one of those new fruit splash drinks. its exam season so ofc im eating like shit. will probably eat some ice cream when i get home after my physiology exam in 30 minutes. so yay to junk food
Current Favorite Musician: currently ive been really enjoying pinkpantheress. her new album is literally 10/10. she has such a knack for melodies, and her lyrics are very eerie and poetic while maintaining a cutesy 2000s vibe. shes also a sampling queen.
honoarble mentions: ive been listening to a lot of janet, rosalia and red velvet these days too.
Last Music Listened To: feedback by janet Jackson. bro istg you have to clear the area when this comes on, i cant help but dance
Last Movie Watched: last movie i watched was bride wars. honestly a classic movie, so funny and i love wedding movies so i reccomend it. that was a month ago tho, which is crazy.
Last TV Show Watched: like the wonderful person who tagged me i watched the bear last. i just rewatched s02e01. ive been doing this thing where i'll either rewatch episodes for research, boredom or just because i get sucked in rewatching a specific clip that makes me want to rewatch the whole episode.
Last Book/Fic Finished: last fic i finished was keeping up with the berzattos by chefskiss40 on ao3. ive reread it like 3 or 4 times now and im patiently waiting for an update. its just so good, i love the domestic vibes. im not a fan of seeing my ships start families in canon but in fic? oh i could read that forever
Last Book/Fic Abandoned: not really abandoned but sorta modified? the sydcarmy high school au i started in the summer was a good concept but i didnt really have a concrete idea where the overall story would go. BUT im planning on maybe doing a series which is just a collection of one shots of them in HS? OR i plan on doing a multi-chapter shorter story that is an AU that also takes place in a high school setting but with a twist that i dont want to reveal bc that would mean i would have to commit to it. lol
Currently Reading: nothing. unless you count all these articles/research papers I've been reading for my health research studies course (think i aced the exam yesterday so maybe all the pain was worth it)
Last Thing Researched for Art/Writing/Hyperfixation: doesnt really count as research but basically i was on pinterest creating boards for 3 different fics. was researching wedding dresses for a nat & syd fic where they go wedding dress shopping (will be finishing after my last exam). also just creating two other boards to inspire myself to start the au i teased above and my bones and all AU/retelling i talked about last month. i want to watch some more cannibalism media and maybe research about 80s pop culture and politics before i dive into that one fully.
Favorite Online Fandom Memory: ummmm probably just being a menace on twitter with my friends that i made through being a reveluv. we talk every single day, and they are some of the best people i know. maybe the times we used to get up early or stay up late for comeback season, watch the kcharts being updated hourly and crack jokes about group we liked and didnt like
Favorite Old Fandom You Wish Would Drag You Back In/Have A Resurgence: technically THG is having a resurgence right now but im way too into the bear to really get back into it and also i havent seen the new movie. im excited to once exam season is done but i feel like the hype is already dying so i dont see myself getting too into it.
Favorite Thing You Enjoy That Never Had an Active or Big "Fandom" but You Wish It Did: uhhhh cant think of one tbh.
Tempting Project You're Trying to Rein In/Don't Have Time For: honestly every sydcarmy fic idea i have that would take multi chapters to flesh out. one shots are very safe for me. but im praying i'll commit to it. esp the bones and all AU lol
this was fun
tagging some ppl to do this too, only if you want!
@amieraisposting @chefkids @sennenrose @sydneys-adamu @sydneyscarm @happylikeasadsong @chansoooo1-blog
18 notes
·
View notes
Note
⭐ for the fic writer's ask!
Ah, a behind the scenes for Then, Now, and Always. Let's see....
Oh I know! I'll unpack the scene that got me the most negative feedback I've ever received on anything I've written: The Duel from Chapter 25: Battle of the Goddesses.
(I haven't talked about Then, Now, and Always in like a month, so be prepared for an essay.)
I thought up the silent Tally/enraged Alder epic duel very early on in the drafting process. Literally, it's in the first, very very rough draft in my docs, which is about 15 pages long and half-summary, half- little bites of scenes.
The reason I wanted them to have The Duel is twofold:
It's genuinely the most tragic thing I could think of for two people who love(d) each other. Y'know? Like Anakin and Obi-Wan on Mustafar. Badass scene, but you're fully aware of the tragedy all the way through. It's supposed to hurt that these two women who once loved each other are now on opposite sides of a war and forced to do battle.
2. I thought it would be fucking awesome.
Part of the inspiration of Then, Now, and Always was this scene:
Tally Craven's hottest scene in the whole show imo. What was I gonna do, give her an enhanced witch baton and not let her use it to full effect? And who else was she going to fight who mattered? It had to be Alder.
Also, Alder's headbutt was dumb. You can quote me on that.
Look, if nothing else, Alder and Tally fight in the actual show. And that fight is important, it does have narrative and thematic relevance, and there is a damn good reason it happened. Unfortunately, that fight is also LAME. Seriously, it is the lamest thing ever! And not even because Tally gets her ass kicked in seconds! The scene is shot cleverly, with perspective shifts and quick camera cuts to veil the fact that the actors and stunt doubles aren't really doing that much. It's the only time we see an actual scourge battle that might have given some indication as to why it's the weapon of choice for witches and why witches make such deadly soldiers. And then it's five seconds long and nothing special.
So I wanted to write a cool fight scene for the fic. Not a spar, by the way. Sparring scenes are popular in fiction, but I personally think they're pointless (unless the author is trying to accomplish something unserious). Literally, a spar is a fake fight. A fascimile. It isn't real. I wanted to write something very, very real. And that led to a lot of the narrative wrapping around making Battle of the Goddesses possible.
Someone on Discord posted during a TNAA discussion "Oh Alder would never hurt Tally." The thing about that is a.) canonically, she can and she has, and b.) For Then, Now, and Always, that's actually not an unreasonable assertion to make. Alder is carrying one hell of a torch. Therefore, I had to make Alder angry enough to actually fight Tally with no holds barred and every intention of beating her.
And that ended up making Chapter 24: Judgment, what it is. In that same very early doc, I had this Petra line.
Literally, that's all. I had no idea where I'd put it or for what reason, but it felt important. I knew about the Ozarks twist from the start, so I knew that someone had to call out Alder for her judgment eventually. Then I realized that, since my plan when I started drafting TNAA was to fix everything, including mandatory freaking conscription of a persecuted minority group, I had the perfect, perfect opportunity to make Alder vicious enough to kill.
Tally's trying dissolve the Salem Accords. That was her endgame the whole time.
Now Alder's angry enough to fight to the death and make the duel truly epic, Tally's goal is much broader, the fic has the chance to move into deeply philosophical, big-picture territory, and I get a pair of dope-ass chapters out of it. Eight birds, one stone. I was so happy.
Zooming back out, I think part of the reason a lot of folks were upset by Battle of the Goddesses pertains to my theory that fanfiction is like ice cream. Easy to eat, requires no effort, delicious and instantly satisfying. The main romantic pairing isn't supposed to fight each other to the literal death, even if it's fucking awesome and deeply symbolic. Duels/battles/wars between two love interests are common fare in sci-fi/fantasy because of their intense thematic and narrative heft, but not in fanfic. That's serving roasted sweet potatoes and kale at an ice cream parlor. It's too much for a lot of readers.
Finally, I think a lot of readers were upset about Alder losing the fight. Here's the thing:
It's not interesting if she wins.
Just like it's not interesting if Goliath beats David or if Jamal doesn't win the jackpot in Slumdog Millionaire. It's a story. The underdog has to win against all odds by their cleverness and mettle. Yes, I too, am sad that Sarah Alder's trauma was never addressed. She's a traumatized, damaged victim of the narrative and her story is a tragedy, start to finish. I think a big draw of the Talder ship is that it allows us to protect and humanize Alder in a way the show never did. Few people want to see her be the victim of even more pain in fic.
This doesn't change the fact that General Sarah Alder is brutal, unyielding, and violent. She's a three hundred year old soldier and her entire existence is war. She is not a good person. To defang her without earning it would be OOC. Trauma doesn't make good people. Healing makes good people. And there's no indication in canon that Sarah Alder has healed in any way, shape, or form.
If you've read this all the way til the end, that's very kind of you. Thanks for letting me ramble!
Why her character arc in Then, Now, and Always really doesn't start until Arc III lmao. When Alder is on her knees, defeated and disgraced, but instead of Petra and Tally going for the kill like they did in the show, they both offer a hand to help her back up. Alder heals because she's given the chance to do so by the people around her. Because I chose to not, y'know, immediately kill her off after tearing her from her pedestal. Genuinely, I have lost so much sleep over all of the amazing, transformative character work the show had in its damn lap and chose to ignore.
#talder#fanfic#nomi--sunrider#then now and always#tally craven#motherland: fort salem#sarah alder#asks
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Cat’s Writing Tips: 10 Things I Learned Rewriting MDCSP
For anyone that doesn’t know at this point, I rewrote a fic of mine last year called Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist and rereleased it as Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix. The whole journey of revising the 86,000 word story took me about a year over which time I completely edited the original text and added an additional 52,000 words of new content. I learned a lot about the writing process along the way and feel like my writing leveled up as well. Here are 10 things I learned along the way while revising this absolute beast of a story that may help you on your writing journey as well:
1. Revising takes time
When I first set out to rewrite this story, I thought I could get it all done during NaNoWriMo. Aka, I thought I could do it in 1 month. And I probably could have if I’d been more on top of things and didn’t also have a full time day job. The whole process from start to finish took me about a year. That included editing the original text, writing the new content from scratch, getting everything beta read, going through feedback and making more revisions. I learned that the process of revising is a long one, but it’s a process that is so worth it. I’m really proud of the Remix, and I love the way it turned out in the end. Even if I felt like I was limping to the finish. My advice is take your time to do revisions well. You’ll be much happier with the end result.
2. Outlines are a literal godsend
I plan to make a whole separate post on outlining because motherfucking outlines saved my ass. I have outlined every story I’ve written since then. I mean, I usually would go into stories with some type of outline or at the very least an idea of what I wanted, but I started making detailed outlines for the new chapters, and let me tell you, it’s now a standard practice in my life.
For the enemies AU I’m working on, I have had the whole project outlined for months now from chapter 1 all the way through chapter 22. I’m still tweaking the ending, but for these beginning chapters, I know exactly what is going to happen in each chapter and have been able to map out Adrien’s whole journey throughout the fic. Outlining takes the guess work out of writing. If ever I forget where I’m supposed to be heading with a particular chapter, I glance back at the outline. By putting in the legwork to decide on all of the important plot points in the story ahead of time, it saves me that paralysis while writing where I have to stop and think hmmm what happens next. It keeps me from writing myself into corners, and it allows me to shape the story exactly how I want, so when it comes time to sit and write, I can just sit and write. I don’t have to stop and figure anything out. I’ve done that already. It’s what has allowed me to sit and spit out 8k within a week at times. Writers block? We don’t know her anymore. If I’m not able to write, it’s because I literally don’t have the time, which still happens because again, I have a full-time day job. But having a detailed outline completely removed mental blocks for me.
3. Set goals/keep a journal
I started keeping a writing journal to track my progress throughout this rewrite. I’d set weekly goals and keep track of how much I was writing on any given day. It helped keep me focused on what I needed to do next as well as keep me organized. It was also a way to hold myself accountable when I didn’t meet my goals. Something about putting things in writing makes you far more likely to do them. In my writing journal, I’d track daily word counts and set goals for what I wanted to work on/finish that week. Usually I’d be finishing one chapter, editing another, and starting on another almost every week. I didn’t always meet my goals, but setting them kept me motivated and helped me know what came next.
4. Skip around
This is something I still do and one area where outlines come in handy. My betas can attest that I always drag my feet when it comes to writing fight scenes. It’s not that I’m not good at them, I’m sure anyone who has read a fight scene written by me knows I’m not bad at it. It’s just that they’re tedious. It requires a lot of thinking and action and there are a lot of variables that go into them. Several times while rewriting MDCSPR, I’d get to a fight scene that I wasn’t quite mentally prepared to tackle, but the fight scene was sandwiched between a scene I really wanted to get to. So, I’d just skip the fight scene and keep writing from the next moment that I could clearly picture. This allowed me to get higher word counts every day because most of the time if I wrote the beginning and end, filling in the middle wasn’t hard because it gave me a clear picture of where I was headed and what I needed to connect to. It kept me from getting stuck on one word or one sentence and getting paralyzed for days or weeks at a time on one thing. Allowing myself to skip something and go back to it alleviated that sense of perfectionism that tends to nag me when I’m writing.
A word of caution about skipping around is don’t skip too far. Especially if you’re writing from scratch. Often times, even if you outline your story, you might change your mind about certain things or adopt a different vibe as you write. So if you skip ahead and write the ending before you’ve written the beginning, you might change your mind on that ending and have to scrap it and rewrite it later on. If I skipped around, it was usually within a single chapter or two, and I’d always make sure to go back and finish filling in the missing parts before I moved on.
5. Work in chunks
Rewriting a 20 chapter story was daunting at times. 86k is a lot of words to read and reread and rewrite. The only way I got through it was by working on one chunk at a time. I was usually working on at least 2-3 chapters at a time. This worked well for me for a couple of reasons. 1. If I got bogged down on one chapter, I could just move to a different one. 2. It helped me get more done at a time. Breaking a story down into chunks makes it way more manageable because it allows you to focus on one thing at a time rather than the whole thing at once. Writing 138,000 words sounds like a lot. Writing 2k right now is much more manageable. And eventually those 2ks add up, and now you’ve got a whole story.
6. Keep going
Along with my last point, this one kind of seems obvious, but keep going. Writing is a marathon, not a sprint. Though writing sprints do help you get through the marathon. I find that writing long stories especially is a matter of building and maintaining momentum. Pace yourself and keep making steady progress, no matter how small. I didn’t write every single day while rewriting MDCSPR, but I made sure to keep making steady progress whether by skipping around, working in chunks, or outlining something and plotting. If you feel yourself start to get stuck, work around the blockage. Skip it and work on something else. You can always go back and edit a bad first draft, but you can’t edit something that doesn’t exist. Keep up the momentum if you’ve got it. Nothing has been more freeing to me than getting to a point that’s stumping me and just skipping a few lines and writing [insert fight scene here], then moving onto whatever happens next. Skip shit. Keep going. Watch those word counts rise.
7. Fix it in post
I think a lot of writers suffer from a nagging sense of perfectionism. They slave over every word while they’re writing because they want to write the perfect draft. The most important thing I learned while writing MDCSPR is to throw perfection to the wind because the perfect draft doesn’t exist. I can’t tell you how many times I was writing something new, and it wasn’t going exactly how I wanted. I had that nagging voice to stop and fix it then and there, to agonize over a single sentence until it was “perfect.” But the most freeing thing I learned how to do was say eh, I can fix it later. Keep going. Let the sentence be bad. You can fix it later. As I said before, you can fix a bad first draft. You can’t fix a draft that hasn’t been written. Edit later. Allow yourself to write poorly and just spit the words onto the page.
8. Walk away/let it rest
This is something a younger me struggled with. I'd write something and want to post it immediately. I am an excitable person that struggles to keep projects secret XD I always want to tease things and share what I'm working on. For this project, though, I waited until I had edited 21 chapters to start posting it. That was an excruciating amount of time and effort put in with little pay off until it was time to share it, but patience and time make for much better writing. My betas kept me going because I could at least get some feedback on what I was making, but since this was a revision, I didn't want to send my betas sloppy drafts either. I tried to make every chapter as polished as possible before sending it, and the main way I did that was by walking away for a while.
Cat, that sounds counter intuitive. Okay, hear me out. I talked about keeping a writing journal and how I'd usually be finishing one chapter, editing another, and starting the next one within any given week, and I found that this system worked well for me. It can be tempting when you finish a chapter to immediately start editing it, and oftentimes I would give the chapter a read through after I finished it initially, but I wouldn't send it to my betas at that point. I started walking away from finished chapters and letting them rest while I worked on something else. Getting my eyes off a chapter for a week or two greatly increased the quality of my edits when I came back to it. When the chapter is fresh in your mind, it's harder to spot mistakes because you've read it a dozen times, and your eyes start to glaze over typos and mistakes more easily because you're used to the text. Walking away for a little while and letting your brain purge it a little bit allows you to come back with fresh eyes that can more easily spot mistakes. It also helps if you're iffy on a part, you can usually come back with fresh ideas and/or new solutions.
Even now with my enemies AU, I tell my beta to give me a few days after I finish a chapter because I walk away before going back to proofread it. The writing process can be stressful, and most writers I know struggle with the nagging sense of perfectionism. We want to edit and edit again until a piece is perfect. Accepting that an initial draft is going to need work and allowing myself to just walk away and let it be bad for a little bit while I consider ways to improve it makes for better revisions in the long run. The drafts I send to my betas are far more polished, and I tend to be happier with them. Let your stories rest, then come back to them. It will help level up your writing tremendously.
9. Find betas you work well with
All that being said, my betas were the real mvps of this project. I revised 21 chapters before I started posting this one (and tbh it was more than that because it took time to get previous chapters beta read so I'd just keep going). My betas were my sole source of feedback on this project for months. I recommend having a variety of skillsets in your beta team. I had someone who was more grammar focused, someone who gave general feedback on the direction of the story and characters, and someone who gave more reactionary feedback to specific things within the chapter. They reacted as if they were a reader to give me an idea of whether or not readers would enjoy the story. These comments were what kept me from getting discouraged or burned out.
Writers naturally crave feedback and comments from readers. We want to know people enjoy our work. Going months working on a project with no feedback can be agony. Find betas you work well with. Or friends. Get other eyes on your work to leave you comments. Not only will it improve your craft because betas can spot things and offer outside perspectives you may not see on your own, and they can give you much desired feedback to keep those dry patches from swallowing you and your motivation.
Trust me, I spent a long time in this fandom just spitting out stories and throwing them on ao3 dot com. And I will say I don't get everything beta read. Short drabbles and one shots I just edit myself. But for big projects especially, I highly recommend getting a beta or two or three. You will improve. Guaranteed.
10. Always be doing something
This sounds obvious, but not in the way you're probably thinking. I said always be doing something, not always be writing. Editing is something. Outlining is something. Brainstorming is something. Reviewing beta feedback is something. There are many other aspects to writing than just writing. Even on days when I wasn't writing for mdcspr, I was doing something. I was editing, I was reviewing my outline and brainstorming, I was making my playlist, I was considering what songs to use for what scenes, I was setting goals, I was rereading old chapters that were finished. Pretty much every day I was doing something to keep the story fresh in my mind and keep forward momentum on the project.
But Cat, I thought you said walk away. Yes. From individual chapters. But you should be doing something for your project most days of the week. Take a break if you need it, but if you want to finish, you have to keep working. I found that if I needed a break from writing, working on the playlist or compiling outfit references on pinterest was a good way to keep the story at the front of my brain. I was working on it, even when I wasn't physically writing. This helped me develop a deeper understanding of my characters that made them easier to write in the long run. Understanding their style helped develop their personalities and mannerisms. Figuring out what songs and lyrics the characters might relate to in any given scene helped put me in their head. You don't have to write every day, but you should do something. Big projects take time, and they're going to take even longer if you take long breaks. Marathon, not a sprint. Keep the momentum going, pace yourself, do something.
Keep in mind, writing is a very individual process. What works for me, may not work for you. These are just a few things I found that helped me push through a big project. Find a process that works for you and go for it. If these tips work for you, great! At the end of the day, you have to figure out what works for you and develop your own methods and process. I hope that this is helpful for some of you! If you have anything else that works for you that you'd like to add, feel free to reblog and share! Contrary to popular belief, writing isn't an individual activity. Writing a novel takes a whole team. We improve by interacting with each other and giving advice and encouragement.
If you want me to cover any other topics in writing, feel free to comment or message me. I'm not a professional writer, but I've been writing for 16 years. I've learned a thing or two over that time 🤷♀️ Happy writing!
32 notes
·
View notes
Note
I nEvEr GeT aSk GaMe StUfF
✨🦋🌿🎀💝💥💎💌
Geee, alright already! 🤣🤣🤣
✨What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)
Okay, first things first, I'm pretty satisfied with how all of my fics have been perceived so far, so I can't really complain.
That being said: Someone who cares is doing significantly less good than Hic sunt dracones, statistics-wise. It is my own emotional support fic and incredibly close to my heart, so I really am delighted about every positive comment I get about it.
🦋what are you most insecure about when you post a fic?
Erm, everything? Can I say everything? 🤣
I'm literally a nervous wreck after posting, anxiously hitting F5 and waiting for feedback, mind in a constant loop of self-doubt.
What if my characterization is off?
What if the premise sucks?
What if my readers don't like the direction I'm taking the story?
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!
🌿how does creating make you feel?
So many things!!!
For one thing, it scratches the brain itch. I’ve always had to create things, as far back as I remember. When I was a kid, my parents could stick me in a corner with some paper and scissors and crayons and glue and wouldn’t hear from me for hours.
Even during the 15 years that I didn’t write, I always had to be doing something creative. Knitting, painting, drawing, photographing, you name it. It’s an urge that I need to fulfill and I get crabby if I can’t.
Seeing the end results makes me feel insanely proud and accomplished. It may not be perfect, but I made that! I sunk my teeth into it and saw it through and made this wonderful thing that I love.
🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing
How dare you make me say nice things about myself?!
Okay … I guess my writing does something to other people that makes them want to create their own stuff. People have repeatedly told me that reading my fics kickstarted their own imagination into creating stories or art of their own. And every time that happens, I get so incredibly happy because that is like a god-tier compliment right there! That somebody found my writing so engaging that it made their brain spin off on a tangent and they created something out of it!
💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?
Dragons! Dragons dragons dragons dragoooooons!!!!
The feedback I am getting for this fic just won’t stop blowing my mind, seriously, and every time I think it’s done, you guys hit me in right in the feels again with your gorgeous comments and rec lists mentions and fucking FANART! I am incredibly happy and humbled and awed that people are loving it so much!
💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.
That would be Someone like you, which is a little bonus story to Someone who cares. It's a purely self-indulgent little one-shot featuring married Steddie and a baby. This universe is my emotional support AU and I loved visiting the boys again. 💕
💎why is writing important to you?
Wow, where to start?
Because it's incredibly fun and allows me to completely immerse myself in the story I'm creating. Because I get to be self-indulgent and spoil myself and make the story exactly like I want it to be.
And because I have met so many amazing, creative, lovely ppl through it over the past few months, who bring me joy and make me smile every single day.
I honestly don't know how I could ever go without it for so long!
💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!
Okay, so I'm still firmly stuck on the demon!Eddie brainworm and fully planning on turning it into a chaptered fic. I'm still figuring out a lot of the specifics, but I've already got some nice twists and details planned. There'll be demon besties Eddie and Chrissy, a nice side of Buckingham, lots of smutty goodness, Dustin running a mystery YouTube channel and so much more, it will be glorious!
#steddie#steddie brainrot#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steddie fanfic#fanfiction#fanfiction writer#my writing#fanfic#asks and replies#hic sunt dracones#someone who cares#demon eddie munson
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey Emel, nice meeting you, I got a weird timing question for you. I have been reading through your novel tag - it's so amazing it's published btw - and I would like to ask, what's the story behind this story? How did you come up with it? How was writing it? What are the plans with the sequels? What are your favourite kind of scenes to write - I'm seeing hurt/comfort, siblings and brothers which are my fave things ever so I'm squalling - in short: what kind of writer are you? I wanna know
@writingonesdreams
Thank you so much 😊 That makes me remember that I should've tagged more stuff honestly lol, I have so much Wannabe content
This answer ended up loooong, so I'm putting it under a cut:
The War Machines series started as an AU fic idea. It turns out that if you keep asking "what if," scramble up traits, change dynamics, and add new goals and new characters, you're gonna end up with whole novel full of OCs. Or... a trilogy of novels. I'm happy that my little AU scene got so wildly out of hand.
I could easily write the prequel to Wannabe now, but the sequel (Warrior) was giving me a ton of trouble. I recently figured out why:
I write best out of order; the first scene I wrote in Wannabe ended up in chapter nine I think. For Warrior, I was trying to start at chapter one and placing loads of importance on it, then writing myself into corners and having to scrap my draft over and over and over and over. I'm going to start writing the scenes I want to first and then filling in extra stuff the way I did with book one.
The goal I had in mind for the characters in Wannabe was "how can I get the Machines to realize how deep their bond is/how can I heal them?" But the goal for Warrior was literally "what sort of painful stuff can I put these characters through to make them develop" and that ended up dragging the tone down a LOT, obviously. So I need to keep in mind that even though there are some heavy topics they have to deal with, this series is ultimately about love.
I was overthinking character arcs and motivations. Instead of coming up with something external for them to deal with and letting the internal changes happen naturally, I was coming up with internal changes first and then forcing situations that would make them change the way I wanted them to. Basically, I was treating my characters like tools or puppets instead of letting them grow organically, and then not understanding why every plot point and interaction seemed so stilted. So now I'm just gonna Put Those Boys in Situations and let them tell me how they're feeling.
Even if none of the 100k+ words in my scrapped drafts end up making it into Warrior, I don't see the time as wasted at all. I've learned so, so much more about writing in the past year alone than I've learned from every class or book on writing I've ever taken/read.
I really really like writing angst and whump hehe, but I tend to get heavy-handed with the Angst Hammer in my original stuff. I think it's pretty easy to write character development that way. While there are angsty parts in Wannabe for sure, there's also fluff and a ton of bonding in between crazy action scenes. I especially love subverting romance tropes to make them platonic, hopefully adding a depth to Found Family outside of "these people are around each other a lot."
I can't mention the War Machines series without also mentioning @avrablake. Avra was honestly the reason I ended up learning so much. She has this incredible knack for offering feedback and criticism in a way that ends up feeling so encouraging, and she always gets me to think deeper about my plot and characters than I could on my own. I am truly grateful for the time she's spent on helping me through the best and worst of my ideas.
I'm about to start trying to write my sequel again. I have a few scene ideas and I'm itching to play around with them :)
#sorry for sitting on this one for a few days but i had a lot to say clearly#writingonesdreams#me.#thanks for the ask!
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Contains Spoilers
Well. Where to start with these two, hmm?
James was such a divisive character when I first started getting reader feedback. Admittedly, the original version of him was a lot less likeable and a lot more whiny, but once he got fleshed out I actually started to like him. I mean, at this point in time we’ve all experienced some level of lockdown, and it’s done things to us — imagine how weird you’d be if you spent half your life shut in a room with only your mother and some scary armed guards for company! Can you blame him for latching onto Cat as quickly as he does?
Evidently, Fox can, yes. Writing that jealousy was so satisfying, after so much time spent writing Fox refusing to admit any kind of care for Cat, picking fights with her at every opportunity. His flirting vibe is a strong ‘any attention is good attention’, which I would not recommend outside of YA novels. But there’s nothing that gets a romance subplot moving quite like throwing in a challenger. I’ll have more to say about James, especially towards the end of the book, but needless to say I don’t blame you if you hated him immediately.
The whole thing with James and Mary does also lull everyone into a bit of a false sense of security, which then gets ripped away with the discovery at the end of chapter sixteen.
I know. It’s grim.
That was the part that made every single early reader exclaim in horror in their feedback notes. It also made my mum quite worried for the internal workings of my brain for a while, which, fair.
It was also a lot more graphic in its original incarnation. I maybe went a little overboard on the body-horror descriptions, and — rightfully so — was told that I had to reel it in a little or we’d never be allowed to market the book to children.
But I’ve never had a complaint from an actual child reader about it. Kids love the gore and the horror and the creep-factor. That’s clear in all kinds of media created for children — and in the number of kids who read Stephen King novels at a way too young age and are forever changed by that.
Whenever I’ve been asked by an adult if my books are suitable for their kid to read, I have always replied ‘it doesn’t have anything worse than the Hunger Games, so if you let them read that, they’ll be fine’. And I stand by that. There is some seriously messed up shit in the Hunger Games trilogy, which is way darker than anything I’ve written. But there’s always that small part of me guiltily wondering if this person’s child is going to get to the part with all the dismembered children and be utterly traumatised and the person will remember my recommendation and curse my name forevermore.
Ah, well.
It’s weird how vividly I can remember writing parts of this book; specifically, the parts that I had no idea were going to happen until I was about to start writing them. I wish I could properly explain the amount of chaotic galaxy-brain moments that existed in the process of writing this — I literally spent weeks beforehand writing endless notes on the worldbuilding, but had a vague idea of the plot and threw myself into it with no clue how it was going to go. James and Mary didn’t exist until I wrote Cat and Fox at the top of the spiral staircase. The room full of failed experiments didn’t exist until the scene right before they find the locked door. At that point, all I was after was things to break up the relative monotony of writing two people sneaking around a building and having to hide and eavesdrop on people. A simple thought of ‘how do I make this more interesting’ ended up filling in half of the plot going forward.
I’m not that chaotic with my writing anymore. Mostly. I still leave a lot of holes for the potential ideas that might crop up during the writing process, and I categorically never plan an ending in detail because by the time I get there I can guarantee I’ll have gone wildly off-script, but I don’t leave as much in the middle up to fate as I did while writing TBtS.
Sometimes I marvel that this book actually made sense when it was finished. God bless editing.
See you tomorrow for more chaos, friends.
0 notes
Text
Burn The Witch 7 - After Midnight [Bucky Barnes x Reader]
A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s an extra chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤
Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.
Summary: Missions require stealth.
Series Masterlist
For a spy, working at unusual hours was nothing new. During your training at the academy they would wake you up at ungodly hours to drag you to exercise just so that you would get used to being ready to fight anytime.
So technically you weren’t supposed to be this tired, but you hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. To your surprise, at around 5 in the morning you were assigned to a new mission to capture and bring another member of HYDRA in. It was unexpected because your superiors had told you earlier that earning Bucky’s trust and getting information from him was the priority, and they hadn’t sent you after any target for days up until this morning. You weren’t exactly complaining anyway, other missions weren’t your priority.
Even if you kept telling yourself what you were doing was just business, somehow talking to him didn’t feel like it.
“God damn it,” you muttered to yourself when the sight of your reflection in the elevator mirror caught your eye, making you heave a sigh and push the button to your apartment. Your shirt was stained with so much blood that you could hardly see the white and you licked your thumb before trying to scrub off the dried blood on your cheekbone. The elevator made a small noise before the door opened and you stepped outside, dragging your weary self to your door.
“What’s up neighbor?”
You jumped out of your skin and turned to Keith who was watching you with a grin on his face, holding a cup of coffee.
“What the fuck?”
“Likewise. Why are you covered in blood, you normal civilian you?”
You opened your door and stepped inside with him following you suit.
“Mission.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Young lady, look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t kill the Winter Soldier.”
“What? No!” you made a face, “I could never- it was another kind of a mission.”
“You already have a mission, didn’t you tell them you’re supposed to focus on that one?”
“The target was heavily protected and it needed my expertise.”
“Nobody likes a brag.”
You rolled your eyes, “Keith, General literally told me that before sending me there.”
“You’re not supposed to get close to targets anymore,” he reminded you and you shifted your weight from one foot to other, biting inside your cheek.
“It got out of control,” you murmured, making him sigh.
“Y/N.”
“It’s not like I wanted to!” you defended yourself, “It was just necessary, that’s all.”
“If you get in close combat with a target you might end up with visible injuries, and that would compromise your cover as a civilian and tip Barnes off.”
“I know, I know…” you murmured as you walked to the sink to wash your hands, then switched the coffee maker on.
“Do you?” he insisted, “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re looking for trouble.”
You grabbed a cup from the shelf and turned to him.
“I just wanted to get it over with,” you said, “Okay? I have other things in mind.”
He pulled his brows together, “Like what?”
“Like…” you waved your hands, trying to find the words, “Like other stuff. Like my main mission— by the way I couldn’t ask the other night, why did they locate you here?”
“General said your relationship with Barnes is progressing well. It’s better to have another agent close by, just in case he decides to make a late night visit.”
The innuendo wasn’t lost on you and you raised your brows, “I feel like I’m working in a dark alternate version of a matchmaking system where they hook you up with a date you can’t trust.”
“So every dating app out there?” he asked, making you laugh as you sipped your coffee.
“Speaking of dates,” you started, but was cut off your phone beeped and you checked the time, then cursed under your breath.
“What?”
“I can’t believe I’m working at a stupid milkshake shop,” you grumbled, “I need to take a shower and get to work, see yourself out.”
“You know, you could bring some milkshake home,” he said as you walked to the bathroom, “That’s what a good neighbor would do.”
“Goodbye Keith!” you called out and closed the bathroom door.
***
You really, really needed something to snap you out of this sleeplessness. Preferably coffee, preferably in an I.V. or something because you had a feeling drinking it wouldn’t be enough at this point.
“Thank you and bon appetite!” you smiled brightly at the customer after serving them their milkshake, then dropped the smile and pulled the small apron off your uniform.
“I’m going to take a break and get some coffee,” you told your coworker “You want anything?”
“No thank you,” she said and you fixed your hair before walking outside to make your way to the coffee shop.
Keith had a point. It was stupid to get in close combat with a target, especially now. General had sent you there with clear orders of you keeping your distance and using your sniper rifle, not your dagger and in the heat of the moment, you had decided to go after him when you couldn’t get a clear shot.
“Hi, can I get a hot red eye please?” you asked the barista, “Actually no- make it a black eye, largest cup you have.”
She smiled slightly, “Long night?”
“You have no idea.”
She swiped your card before giving it to you and you walked to the waiting counter to lean against it, nibbling on your lip.
You really, really wanted to believe that your sour mood was a result of you not getting enough sleep, but deep down you knew it wasn’t like you to take unnecessary risks.
It was the fact that you had been too distracted to take the shot at the right time because you were looking down at your phone when the target had walked out of his building.
But after all, it was your main mission, wasn’t it? You had to make sure to get Bucky’s attention to get closer to him. Maybe two missions at the same time had these kind of disadvantages, but it wasn’t as if you could walk there and tell them not to give you side missions.
If you wanted to be a handler, you had to prove yourself.
You took the lid off the cup, the scent of hot liquid filling your nostrils and you grabbed the sugar packets before tearing the top off to pour sugar into it. You dipped the thin stir stick into the beverage to stir it, then put the stick between your lips but as soon as you turned around and saw who had just gotten his coffee, you held your breath.
“Hi!” you said breathlessly, pulling the thin stick off your mouth, “Um- Captain—Captain America sir.”
“Oh God no, please call me Sam.” He offered you his hand and you shook it.
“Hi Sam.”
“It’s Y/N, right?”
“Yes!” you said, “Yes, it’s wonderful to see you again. Under much better conditions where I haven’t been shot at.”
“Bucky just went to that uh….” He paused, “Milkshake shop right? He just went there to see you.”
You scrunched up your nose, “Oh no, I literally just went on my break.”
“That’s alright,” he said, “He’ll be back here. Would you like to sit down?”
Nope.
Nope, you did not want to sit down.
You had planned a whole strategy to pull the wool over Bucky’s eyes, but Sam’s file told you that he was an excellent judge of character, much better at reading people than Bucky. Everything that you had told Bucky to manipulate him had worked so far but persuading Sam wouldn’t be that easy.
Seeing that any small sign could tip him off, you had to put even more of an effort into the illusion.
“I’d love to!” you said and followed him to the nearest table. You sat down and pushed your hair behind you ear, smiling up at him.
“I never got to say thank you,” you said, “For saving me back there.”
“Don’t mention it, really,” he said, “How’s your arm?”
“It got better,” you said, “I thought I was dying but as it turns out, it was just a graze. Only thing that’s hurting right now is my ego.”
“Oh it happens.”
“Even you have to admit, that was a bad first impression.”
He grinned, “For what exactly?”
“For—um… for a first—first impression. In general,” you stammered and sipped your coffee while he sat back.
“So how do you find New York?” he asked, “Bucky mentioned you just moved here.”
“It’s been a month, yes,” you said, clearing your throat, “I like it so far. I mean, aside from getting mugged, I enjoy it. It’s very different than where I grew up in but like— it’s very new.”
“Yeah, especially if you’re from a small town…” he mused, “Where did you say you moved from by the way?”
“Cannon Beach, Oregon.”
“I love small towns,” he said, “Very peaceful.”
“They are!” you said, “I mean sometimes a little too peaceful with nothing to do but…”
“You know, visiting Oregon has been in my list for a while now,” he said, “Any advice on where to go if I end up visiting there?”
Oh he is good.
If you weren’t a trained spy, you wouldn’t have even noticed that he was trying to see whether you could be trusted or not. Bucky, being secretive himself hadn’t even asked anything about your so called hometown but Sam knew exactly what to ask to see if you were hiding something.
You thanked Chloe for making you read everything about your file the other day in your mind before you pursed your lips, deep in thought.
“Well my hometown doesn’t have much to offer but— do you like hiking?”
“Sure, why not?”
“We have a state park,” you said, “I think you’d enjoy it. Natural view, all green and peaceful. Back in high school, every semester break my friends dragged me there and the there was this one time we were all there, I got stung by this huge wasp and it was just before the school dance and I ended up not getting asked out by my crush—anyway, it’s a long way of saying I don’t hike anymore.”
That made him chuckle and he seemed to be convinced that you were sincere, thankfully.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as his eyes went over your shoulder, making you look up and gasp.
Jesus, as it turned out you weren’t the only one with a mission who required you to get in close combat.
“Oh my God.” You covered your mouth with your hands, staring up at his bruised face half hidden by his hat. Sam pushed his chair back, clearing his throat.
“I should probably step outside,” he said as he stood up, “Gotta make a call, I’ll see you later.”
“Thanks man.”
“What happened?” you asked as Sam walked out of the coffee shop and Bucky sat down across from you to the seat Sam had just left. He tried to offer you a small smile.
“It’s nothing.”
“Bucky it doesn’t look like nothing…” you mumbled, your brows pulled together “Does it hurt?”
What?
“Does it hurt?”
You weren’t supposed to ask that, you were supposed to gather info on where he went and what he was doing on missions of his own.
“Not at all,” he assured you and you took a shaky breath.
“What happened?”
“There’s this thing me and Sam are working on,” he said, “Don’t worry about it. I went to the milkshake shop to see you but…”
You wanted to ask for more details but something told you it could create a problem to insist this early so you decided against it.
“Just tell me you’re safe?”
A soft light crossed his eyes, “I am,” he said, “I promise.”
You paused for a moment before you pushed your hair behind your ear. “I gather you’re kind of used to getting hurt then?”
“A little,” he admitted, “That’s why I couldn’t call you or anything. I got caught up in something.”
Ah. He wasn’t giving you any details even if he thought you were a civilian.
He could like you, but he still couldn’t trust you. Maybe it was a precaution, maybe he wanted to keep you away from his mess, but either way, it was very clear that he had trust issues.
You took a mental note to put it on your report for General and shook your head.
“Of course,” you said, “You don’t need to explain anything, I’m just glad that you’re well and safe. Bruises aside.”
“Looks that bad huh?”
“No!” you said quickly, “No I wouldn’t say bad. Not by a long shot, you’re still pret—uh…dashing. Cute as a bug’s ear I’d say. Looking—looking aces. Dynamite even!”
He pulled his brows together, keeping his eyes on you.
“I may or may not have checked some early to mid 20th century slang just in case,” you admitted, making him tilt his head in confusion.
“Just in case of what?”
“Just in case you said something and I didn’t understand on the second date,” you said, “And let me tell you something, you guys spoke a completely different language back then.”
“You’re joking,” he said with a small smile and you crossed your arms.
“You don’t believe me?”
“Say one more term and I will.”
You thought for a moment, “Fine. Are you ready for this?”
“Absolutely, bring it on.”
“I will….” You trailed off, searching your mind for the right words you had checked online the other night, “I will snap my cap if you spook me showing up looking like you were about the buy the farm last night.”
A clear laugh escaped from his lips as it lit up his whole face and that was when you realized how rare it was to hear him laugh out loud. A warmth filled your stomach and you raised your brows, your nose in the air.
“See? Told you,” you pointed out and stole a look at him, “Was it—was it good?”
“It was great,” he said when he could pull himself together, “Absolutely perfect.”
“Why thank you,” you sipped your coffee as he cleared his throat.
“Speaking of the second date…” he said, making you bite down a smile, “Any chance you’re free tonight?”
“I am,” you said, “But you’re not.”
He pulled his brows together, “Hm?”
“Have you seen yourself?” you insisted, “You look like you—you almost died or something!”
“It wasn’t a big deal, really.”
“Well, those bruises say otherwise,” you said, “You need some rest. How much sleep did you get last night?”
He averted his eyes and waved a hand, “Some. Enough.”
“Bucky,” you said, leaning in slightly, “How much?”
Everything the government and your division had gathered on Bucky suggested the same thing; The Winter Soldier was basically created for war. He was the perfect soldier, and there was no way anyone could get any information from him. There was a reason why they had sent you into this mission, trying to get intel from him by force was absolutely impossible.
Even the government knew that.
But the same unstoppable soldier who would probably die before saying anything to the enemy caved in when you batted your lashes.
“Two hours.”
Your jaw dropped and you shook your head, “Nuh uh.”
“It’s enough, it’s more than—“
“Nope,” you cut him off, “You’re going to rest at home and—eat soup and watch garbage TV, mister. No dates for you on two hours of sleep.”
A soft smile pulled at his lips, “I can function with two hours of sleep darling.”
Your heart did not skip a beat at that, it was just you being very focused on your own cover and that was it.
“Well I don’t want you to just function,” you mumbled, “You need to take care of yourself too.”
Judging by his expression you could see that he wasn’t used to hearing that and you put your coffee on the table, then reached out to gently put your hand over his vibranium one. His hand twitched like a gun recoiling in your hand, even if you knew it was involuntary and a look of disbelief crossed his features, as if he hadn’t expected you –or anyone to touch that, as if he was afraid that you would be scared.
But of course, that was the spy in you speaking. Your cover wasn’t supposed to notice anything of the sort.
“How about…” you trailed off, “We have a date tomorrow? You go and get some rest tonight, and I’ll pick what I’m gonna wear for tomorrow and spam my friends with outfit ideas.”
“You sure?”
“Of course,” you said, “We have all the time in the world for dates. And I happen to live here, you know? It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
He smiled and turned his hand to entwine his fingers with yours, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.
“Good,” he rasped out, “I like the sound of that.”
***
You should’ve known your superiors wouldn’t make it easy for you. This time, you were allowed to take your team with you because as it turned out, the right hand of the target you had brought in last night had gotten away, so now you had to take him down for your superiors to cut a deal with the target.
The first part of the mission had gone splendidly. He was alone and in hiding, so setting your gear up on the rooftop and pulling the trigger hadn’t been difficult whatsoever. You watched as a couple of agents burst through his door so that they could retrieve his body and fixed your ski mask before starting to dissemble your rifle to carry it easier.
“Anyone wants to grab some dinner?” Keith’s voice reached your earpiece and you yawned.
“Nah,” you said, “I’m going to go home and sleep for a year or something.”
“Deleting the security cam footage of the building right now,” Chloe let you know, “And I want dinner, I’ve been running on multiple cups of coffee.”
“You got it.”
“Are you buying?” one of the agents in your team asked, “If you are, we’re coming too.”
“Yeah man, I’m buying. Tacos?”
“Sounds good, just let me check—“ Chloe started but then gasped, “Shrike, get out of there right now!”
It was almost instinctual. You grabbed the small pistol out of your boots and turned around to point it at the person behind you but as soon as you recognized who he was, your heart started pacing.
Bucky had decided not to rest at home after all.
“Hi soldier,” you managed to say, “We have to stop meeting like this.”
Chapter 8
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#the falcon and the winter soldier#tfatws#tfatws!bucky#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes imagines#bucky barnes x you#falcon and the winter soldier#bucky#marvel#the winter soldier#the winter soldier x reader#burn the witch
600 notes
·
View notes
Text
An Old Scent [4] - Negan x Reader (A/B/O AU)
Summary: During summer break, you decide to come back home to visit your dad, Rick. Over the course of your stay, you realize that your dad's friend is pretty hot.
Warnings: literally just seduction and smut for this chapter lol, biting, ~aggressiveness~, pet names, fingering, penetration, edging?, breeding kink, soft aftercare negan :)
A/N: so this is the first smut i've ever written! i hope it's alright, some feedback would be awesome :) i hope you guys enjoyed my first story!
3k words
The next few days were a blur. Negan would come in, give me food, water, and a backrub, and then leave me to my own devices. I wanted to ask him for more, but for some reason I never did and he never tried anything. That wasn't to say he didn't want to. I could tell that my smell alone had an effect on him. That was obvious by the noticeable bulge he sported when he got up from by bedside and exited my room. Yet the alpha had an insane amount of self-control. So I got myself through my heat.
When my head finally cleared of the fever, the first thing I did was text Bee.
'All good now.'
'Thank the gods. So??? How was he? Am I going to be an aunt?'
'I wouldn't know. It didn't happen.'
'You guys didn't fuck? Jesus, you should get an award for the most disciplined omega on the planet.'
'I wouldn't go that far haha. I still want him more than anything.'
'Well, who says you have to be in heat for that to happen?'
'Fair point. Talk to you later, xo.'
I tossed the phone onto my mattress and crossed over to my dresser. Now that I wasn't a moaning mess, I had some semblance of self-control. Which meant that I could seduce Negan in a way that I wanted. In a way that would make him pounce and fuck me until we passed out. He had gone out to the store for a restock of the pantry so I had about thirty minutes to get myself together for him. I foraged through my underwear drawer until my fingers wrapped around a pair of black lace underwear and a matching bra. My lips curled wickedly. If this didn't get him riled up, I didn't know what would. I laid out the set on my bed and moved to my closet for the perfect outfit. I was still wearing Negan's shirt and boxers. They were admittedly very wrinkled and a bit stained from all the fluid that had been produced from my body in the past few days, but Negan didn't seem to mind. I reminded myself to follow up on his orders before I put my plan into motion. I flicked through the hung up clothes before settling on a cute black dress with a sparse sunflower pattern. It was low cut and showed off all of my goods. Perfectly. I put that safely next to my undergarments and headed out of my room.
Peeling off the clothes was harder than I thought. They were a bit crusty in some areas, particularly the crotch, and I almost felt bad for ruining Negan's clothes. Almost. I folded them as best I could given their condition and placed them reverently in the center of his bed. I found a piece of paper and scrawled a note over the middle. I folded the paper in half and put it on the pile of clothes. I nodded in satisfaction and headed into the bathroom for my shower to scrub off the remaining fluids that still clung to my skin.
~~~
My heart raced as I heard the front door click closed. I could tell by the footsteps that it was Negan. That and the fact that all I could smell was that goddamn smell. The scent that could drive me crazy with just one breath. A sudden doubt edged at my mind. What if he didn't want me. What if I was misreading the signals? I shook my head roughly, clearing the negative thoughts. Even if he did reject me, I could play it off to the endings of my heat...besides, I was leaving in a few days and I could wait to be heartbroken in Colorado.
My heart stopped it's assault on my chest cavity when I heard his heavy steps ascend the stairs. He cleared his throat and entered his room. I could hear a small growl escape his throat. He had found my present. I closed my eyes and imagined him suffocating himself in my smell, much like I had when I saw the clothes in the bathroom. I forced myself back to the present when I heard the crinkling of paper. He gave a little scoff of laughter and I heard him cross the hallway and twist my door open.
"Hey what did you wanna talk abou-oh." He trailed off and stiffened as his eyes caught my body. I was laying on my side, one hand propping up my head, the other draped over my round hip. The deep cut of the dress exposed my breasts as well as some of the bra to him. I saw him drag his tongue over his lip and it ignited a fire in the pit of my stomach. I pushed myself up and swung my legs over the side of my bed, rising to my feet and sauntering over to him. I watched him watch my hips sway with every movement.
"I just wanted to thank you," I purred, voice dripping with seduction "for taking such good care of me." His jaw tensed as I placed my hands on his chest, running my palms up to his shoulders and pushing off his leather jacket. "I really appreciate it."
"What are you doing?" He whispered. I could tell it was taking every ounce of control he had to not grab me by the throat and pin me up against the wall. Little did he know, that's exactly what I wanted.
"I wanted to return the favor," I said, blinking wide eyes up at him "Surely there's something I can do to show you how thankful I am, alpha." His eyes closed and a growl rumbled through his chest at the name. My hands trailed down his chest to his abdomen. But before I could reach his belt, Negan grabbed my wrists. I pouted at him.
"Careful, omega," He warned, eyes dark "don't start something you're not willing to finish." My frown turned into a sultry smile. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him where his ear connected to his jaw.
"Please, Negan," I whimpered in his ear. His grip on me tightened "Alpha, fuck me."
"Shit, doll, you don't have to ask me twice." Negan growled. His hands grabbed my waist and hoisted me up around his midsection, hurriedly capturing my lips in a bruising kiss. He thrust his tongue into my mouth as he walked us over to my bed. It was all a blur as I fell onto my back and he moved away from the kiss. He bit and sucked at the skin of my neck, attacking my pulse point in the best way possible.
"Alpha." I moaned, tugging at his shirt. He grunted against my neck and continued his trail of love bites until he met the collar of my dress. Negan growled in disappointment at the lack of skin and used his large hands to tear at the fabric. I gasped as the cool air of the room met my heated skin. He let out a feral groan as he drunk in the sight of me in the black lace set.
"I hope you didn't like that dress." He mumbled as he tossed it over his shoulder, returning to his suckling.
"It was too small." I gasped, finding my hands entangled in his hair. "Ugh, Negan!"
"Fuck, you're beautiful." He hummed, one of his fingers trailing down the middle of my stomach towards my rapidly pulsing core. I whimpered as he got closer, hoping that he would dip beneath the waistband, but he continued over it, cupping my sex over my panties. "And so damn wet. Shit, darling, is this all for me?" My eyes fluttered open to see a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He was a bastard. But I was too aroused to care.
"Yes, alpha, all for you." I gasped, sitting up and tugging at the bottom of his shirt. I pushed it up his body and over his head. He lifted his arms and I pulled it off him.
"A little eager, are we?" He snickered.
"Negan, you don't know how fucking bad I need you," I whined "I was dying during my heat. I needed my alpha." I pulled him back on top of me, pressing my lips against his. My face was starting to burn because of his stubble, but it felt amazing.
"But I do fucking know, princess," He gasped between kisses, pulling away with one of my lips between his teeth. "It was so difficult not to flip you over and fuck you right then and there. I knew you wanted me, but I wanted to wait until you weren't some sex-crazed beast to admit that."
"Well I'm done now," I grinned, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him close. He hissed as his clothed erection rubbed against my pussy. "So fuck me right here and now." I bit his ear lobe and peppered kisses along his jawline until I met his lips again. He chuckled against me, lips curling into a smile.
"Can-fucking-do 'mega."
He unhooked my bra and tossed it to the side, capturing one of my hardened nipples in his mouth. His tongue added with the scruffiness of his beard was enough to make me toss my head back in pleasure. A string of profanities left my lips as he moved to the next one, kneading the one that he just left. My insides were burning and I needed him lower. Thankfully, he began to kiss down my navel, leaving bites to mark his path. When he reached my panties he used a combination of his teeth and his fingers to drag them down my legs. Once they were gone, he kissed up my calves and my thighs, stopping in front of where I needed him most. He planted one of his hands on my hip and used two of his other fingers to spread my lower lips apart. I let out a moan at the action, bucking slightly into his touch.
"Stay put for me, doll," He ordered before giving my hip a kiss "I know you want my knot but I've gotta get you ready first." I just whimpered in response. He slowly entered his two long fingers into my aching cunt. I let out a heavy breath and grasped onto his shoulder, digging in my nails. He deftly curled his digits upward, hitting that sweet spot almost instantly. I cried out in surprised pleasure. I figured Negan was experienced but he knew where everything was. He scissored his fingers and I gasped at the stretch. It had been a while since I actually had something moving inside of me. I could only imagine what his cock would feel like. The thought made my walls clench around him. When he brought his thumb up to press gently on my clit, I dug my fingernails deeper into his skin. He worked the pad in circles, bringing me to an edge I was very willing to jump off.
"Fuck, Negan, I'm..." I huffed, eyes screwing in pleasure.
"Do it baby, cum for your alpha." At his permission, I let the tight band snap and my legs shook with the intense orgasm that crashed through my body. I breathed heavily and arched my back. When the intensity subsided, I collapsed back and brushed the hair back from my face. I felt Negan remove his fingers from my core and I opened my eyes to see him lapping up my juices that had dripped down his palm. Another spark of arousal was already beginning to form.
"Finally got my taste," He moaned, licking his lips in satisfaction "and shit, doll, you taste even better than you smell."
"Please, Negan," I whimpered.
"Please, what?" He cooed, crawling over me and pressing a kiss to my forehead "Use your words, omega."
"Please fuck me, alpha."
He ripped off his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, letting out a sigh of relief when he kicked the restraining fabric to the side. His hard cock was outlined against his boxers. He was right about needing to be prepared; he was huge, no doubt the biggest I had ever seen. A proud smile formed on his lips when he caught me ogling his goods.
"You ready for my dick?" He growled, tugging down his boxers and letting his cock spring free. It was angry, desperate for any sort of contact.
"Please," I gasped.
"Then present for your alpha." I rolled onto my elbows and knees, sticking my ass in the air and wiggling it in hopes that he would pay attention to my weeping slit. "Fuck you look so good." Negan grumbled, scooting closer to me. He ran the head of his cock up and down my entrance. I whimpered and pushed myself back eagerly. He gave me a slight hit on my ass cheek. "I'm in charge here, don't forget that."
"Y-Yes, sir." I said, fisting the sheets in my hands. Thankfully, Negan wasn't in a teasing mood and he slid himself into my pussy in one thrust.
"Fuuuuck," He hissed as he bottomed out, fingers gripping my hips harshly. I would have bruises everywhere tomorrow. But I didn't mind, it would be a reminder that this actually happened. "You're so goddamn tight. Shit." I clenched my walls around him and he let out a husky groan, causing me to smile. He wasn't completely in control. After I was adjusted to his size, I gave him a whimper as a signal to move. And he did. He pounded into me, hips ramming into my ass with every thrust. He fucked me like a wild animal and every time he buried himself inside me, his cock would hit that perfect spot. We moaned in sync with the sounds of skin slapping skin. One of Negan's fingers drifted down beneath himself and he furiously rubbed at my clit. The stimulation was enough to send me into another mind-boggling orgasm, but Negan shut that down quickly.
"Don't you fucking dare cum until I tell you to, understand me?" He growled, resting his head against my shoulder. I couldn't form words so I just nodded frantically. "I'm gonna pop my knot in you, omega. Gonna fill you up. Gonna breed you so good," He huffed between thrusts "You're gonna look so goddamn beautiful when you're round with my fucking pups. Then everyone will know you're mine." I moaned in agreement. I don't know what I moaned, but it was a combination of his name and a curse. A few thrusts later and I could tell that Negan was close. His breathing was heavier and his hips were staggering against mine and his knot was catching at the entrance of my pussy. "Cum with me, baby," He ordered "Let me feel you." With that I let go, letting my walls spasm around his thick cock. He came at the same time, spilling his seed deep within me. I milked him for every drop.
Out of instinct, I tossed my neck to the side, exposing my mating spot to the man above me. With a growl, Negan sunk his teeth into my skin, bonding us together. Fireworks shot through my body and I collapsed beneath him. Negan rolled us both over onto our sides, still inside of me. He lapped at the blood spotting at his bite mark. It took a few moments for us both to catch our breath, but Negan was the first to speak.
"I'm going to take such good care of you," He promised. It was the same tone that he had used at the dinner table when I asked him about the situation with his ex-fiancé. Sincere, vulnerable. "I might not be the best man, but I promise you I will always be there for you and whatever pups we might have. I've never felt like this before and I just...I don't want to fuck it up." I looked over my shoulder and saw worry in his eyes. I gave him a small peck on the nose.
"You won't fuck it up, Negan," I murmured, giving him a reassuring smile "Trust me, I won't let you." We both let out a soft laugh. "I trust you. You're my alpha. I know you'll be the best one you can be, and that's all I can ask for. You're lucky I'm a very patient person."
"Not in bed, you're not." He teased, giving me a wink. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "I don't want you to leave. You'll have to go back to Colorado soon. I don't know if I can handle my girl being so far away. Especially around other alpha assholes." I felt his grip tighten around me. I lifted a hand and stroked his arm.
"Don't worry about that yet," I sighed, closing my eyes. I would be lying if I said I wasn't thinking about it either. But that wasn't the most pressing issue we had to face. "Let's figure out how we're going to tell Rick first." Negan groaned and wrinkled his nose.
"Can you not mention your dad when my dick's still inside you?" He grumbled. I let out a giggled and kissed his knuckles.
"Sorry," I hummed "just saying, I'm not sure how well he's going to take it."
"Well, he better take it like a fucking champ." Negan huffed "'cuz if he doesn't he's gonna fucking regret it."
"Negan," I warned gently "He's my dad. You're his friend. We're mated now. It's gonna be weird for him. You gotta respect that."
"You really do bring me down to earth don't you," He sighed, nuzzling my neck "I guess I underestimated how much I need you." I let out a yawn and rubbed my eyes with a groan.
"I didn't hurt you did I?" He asked, genuine concern lacing his words.
"No, I'm just tired," I giggled "I haven't been fucked that good before."
"Damn straight you haven't." He smirked. Negan gave my neck a kiss and pulled himself out of me. "You get some rest, I'll clean us up and then we can cuddle. When we wake up I'll make you anything you want, deal?"
"Deal."
Not how I expected my summer trip to go, but I'm very happy it ended like it did.
#negan x you#negan x y/n#negan smith#negan x reader#negan smut#a/b/o dynamics#twd a/b/o#a/b/o kink#alpha!negan#omega!reader
196 notes
·
View notes
Text
The frat party | t.h.
Title: The frat party
Pairing: Frat boy!Tom Holland x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1859
Warnings: OC Elizabeth (Lizzie), fake dating/relationship trope, language, fluff
Summary: Tom and the reader met at a frat party, but a year later they broke up because of some reason. Now, rumor has it that the reader is dating one of Tom’s friends and he gets jealous.
A/N: Hello hello, enjoy the new chapter! Sorry for the waiting, guys, but I hope that I made it up to you. Just let me know your thoughts about this chapter!
If you wanna be tagged in my Tom Holland fics, just let me know in my ask box! You can also find me on AO3 and Wattpad. Feedback is always appreciated by a writer!
Taglist: @webmeupspiderdaddy
Read chapter 1 here!
Main Masterlist
Tom Holland Masterlist
Peter Parker Masterlist
Story under the cut!
Chapter 2
Rumor has it
“So, guys, rumor has it that…”
“Stop!” Tom exclaimed, interrupting Harrison. “Everytime you say that sentence, something hurts me and I really wanna miss that opportunity today. I’m already angry at myself because of what happened with Oliver,” he said, lighting a cigarette while sitting on the edge of his bed.
“Smoking makes you even more annoying than usual, Tom,” Harrison said. Tom sighed.
“Oliver makes me like that. He’s still flirting with Y/N, even if he should know by now that she’s mine. I mean, she will be mine again. My girl,” he said, with a soft smile on his face. “Ouch”.
“Still hurts?”
“Yeah, a bit,” Tom answered, brushing his bottom lip where Oliver hurt him.
Jacob suddenly opened the door, a big smile on his face. Tom and Harrison looked at him with suspicion.
“What happened, Jacob?” Harrison asked.
“So, rumor has it that…”
“Oh, fuck me,” Tom sighed, laying his back on the bed. Harrison chuckled.
“I was saying: rumor has it, that there will be a huge frat party at the end of the year to celebrate the older students like us, that will graduate soon and Lizzie asked me to come with her,” he said, happily.
“Lizzie as in Elizabeth? Y/N’s friend?” Tom asked and Jacob nodded.
“She looked a lot like Y/N last year, I thought they were twins. Now she has changed her hair color, at least,” Harrison said.
“The most important things is that she likes me!” Jacob exclaimed. “Be happy for me just once, guys. I deserve it”.
“You’re right Jacob, you do,” Tom said, giving him a pat on his back.
Somebody knocked at the door. Harrison went to open it and found someone who Tom would have been very glad to see. In fact, he jumped from the bed instantly, throwing the unlit cigarette in the trash.
“Hey darling, what are you doing here?”
You sighed, looking at him.
“I have an unseemly proposal for you and you can’t say no”.
“A fake relationship?”
After Tom had sent his friends away, you sat down on his bed in front of him to discuss about the details.
“Look, I didn’t want to do this, but Oliver’s still flirting with me and I have to cut this. He would leave me alone only if he’d see that we’re back together, I’m sure of it. Also, you literally proposed this to me last time, so… Wow, that’s really unpleasant. It must hurt,” you said suddenly, staring at his lip. You moved a hand to reach the wound, but then you stopped. You gazed at him. “Can I?”
Tom nodded. So you brushed it with your fingertip, thinking about how much it costed him to protect you even after your break up. How much it hurt. You swallowed, melancholy threatening to eat you alive. He had closed his eyes for a second. A very long second. Like you at the party. Maybe standing this close to him wasn’t a good idea.
“Y/N…”
“So, what do you think?” You asked, withdrawing your arm.
Tom shrugged.
“I agree,” he said.
“Just like that? You don’t want something in return?”
“As you said, I suggested it in the first place, so I totally agree with it,” he said. Then, he got dangerously close to you, so close that you thought he wanted to kiss you on the lips – and, in fact, he smirked –, but he didn’t. He left you a light kiss on your cheek instead, before whispering these words in your ear: “I’m gonna get you back, Y/N. One way or another,”
You ran away from there like a wolf was chasing you to eat you.
***
You were looking at Zendaya, hands clasped in prayer, begging her to help you. You and Tom had decided to go out as in a date in order to convince Oliver that the two of you were, in fact, back together. Lizzie was already somewhere with Jacob, so you had just Zendaya left to pick the outfit for the evening. She didn’t like that kind of stuff, mostly because because didn’t agree to your plan, but you were too desperate to let it go. She would have helped you at the end. Well, that was your hope anyway.
“Please, Z,” you basically begged her.
She rolled her eyes, arms crossed, but then she nodded. You tried to give her a kiss, but she moved away.
“You know what? This will be a dumb outfit for a dumb plan,” she said, while opening your closet.
“Z, I just…”
“You know why? Because the second, the second, Tom will try to kiss you, you’ll fall for it. Again”.
“I thought that he was your friend too,” you said, showing her a dress, but she shaked her head.
“He is, but I don’t know if he’s the right pick for you. I don’t condone what you did to him,” she said and you gulped, “but he’s not exactly an angel either. He ruined a lot of relationships even before he met you. That’s who he is,” she continued.
You sat on the edge of the bed, while she was looking for something that you could wear.
“Maybe he’s not like that anymore. People grow up, Z,” you said.
“Oh, yeah? Have you?” She asked you, turning around. You swallowed. “That’s what I thought. Don’t come to me when he’ll screw things up again. Or when you will” she stated, then she showed you the outfit. You looked at it with a sparkle in your eyes. “We have found it”.
You showered, wore the outfit and prepared in less than an hour. You were trying to wear your shoes, when Zendaya opened the door to Tom. He was wearing a white T-shirt with a red flannel on it and some ripped jeans. You waved at him, while grabbing your bag. You told Zendaya not to wait for you and then you smiled at Tom, ready to go.
“Are you still smoking?”
“Sometimes,” he answered. “Where’s Oliver tonight?”
“He posted on Instagram an hour ago, so I assume that he’s still with Jacob and Lizzie somewhere in the campus,” you said, looking at your phone.
“Well, so we have some time,” he said with a smirk. He took your hand and you felt shivers running down your spine.
“What are you doing, Tom?”
“Come on darling, if we have to pretend, then we have to make it believable. What’s worse than seeing the girl you like having fun with someone else?” He asked and you noticed a lightning passing through his eyes.
Then, without even realizing it, you found yourself running with Tom all over the campus. That alone made you laugh, because you felt like a little girl. If you had to describe Tom in one word, you would have said he was light. Not because it was always sunny, but because of the way it managed to get you out of the darkness you found yourself in sometimes. He pulled you out of the darkness and made you feel alive, everytime. He was the only one who could do it. Sometimes you wondered why you gave up on him, in fact. Because you had given up on the light, you, who often felt like a full moon in a dark and gloomy sky. He brought you in a part of the campus that seemed a minigolf. Maybe he and his friends had created it, since Tom loved playing golf very much. He gave you a golf club, urging you to try your hand at it.
“I’m not a good player, Tom,” you said, shaking your head.
“I’m still chasing you, right? So I wouldn’t say so,” he replied, leaving you speechless. “I was joking. Come on, let me show you,” he said.
It seemed so cliché, letting him touch you, teaching you to play, celebrate with him every victory of yours… You could have had it, a year ago. That. Tom. All yours. But you gave up on everything. It was your biggest mistake.
“Tom, it’s time. I think that we should go back. Oliver and the others could be coming to their rooms right now,” you said. Tom seemed a bit sad at your words, but only for a moment. It was hard to see an emotion flash on his face.
He nodded.
“Whatever you want, darling,” he said.
You wanted to say something else, but you closed your mouth before you could actually do it. The two of you came back and fortunately, you found Oliver with Lizzie and Jacob still hanging out. You caught Jacob attention and waved him, while Tom was smooth to hold your hand. You turned around in order to tell him something, but he was quick. One second later, her was kissing you and there was something in your stomach, like a knot, that slowly loosened its grip. You felt a weird sensation, a sort of relief. You could feel Oliver’s eyes trying to burn Tom’s skin, Jacob saying Let’s go and your blood boiling in your veins like lava.
When Tom broke the kiss, he ran his thumb over your lips, looking at them with a sort of melancholy. Fake relationships are a beautiful dream, but waking up is from them a nightmare.
“Tom…”
“I think that he got the message,” he said, taking a step back from you. He lit a cigarette, clenching his jaw.
“This is not a joke to me, Tom. It’s not something I’m doing just for him,” you said.
“No? Then explain what all of this is to me, darling,” he replied, throwing out some smoke like it was his anger.
“Yeah,” you said, but then you bit your inner cheek.
“What’s stopping you, Y/N? What are you hiding from me?” He asked, scanning your face. “Are you ashamed of something? Maybe it’s what you did, you know, the whole cheatingthing… or maybe it’s admitting that you still have feelings for me that brings you shame”.
“No, I’m not ashamed,” you said, determined.
“Then talk to me, darling. What’s happening?”
“I can’t tell you, Tom, I’m sorry,” you said, looking around. It was like you needed some air, even if you were outside. That secret didn’t make you breath anymore.
“What? That you liked throwing all away? That he didn’t make you feel like I did? That you weren’t done playing with me? Just tell me something, Y/N, anything would be better than this fucking silence,” he said, raising his voice.
“I didn’t cheat on you!” You yelled. Tom’s eyes grew wide. Everything around you two seemed now quiet, motionless. You covered your mouth with your hands, maybe to erase what you just said. “Fuck”.
Tom stared at you for a good couple of minutes. He looked at your tired and tearful eyes, perhaps thinking whether to believe you or not, then he did something unexpected: he put out his cigarette. He walked over to you, raking your face in his hands and looked into your eyes, this time more intensely. He looked tired and incredibly older.
“Now you’re gonna tell me everything, darling”.
#tom holland x reader#tom holland x y/n#tom holland x you#tom holland smut#frat bot tom holland fanfiction#frat boy tom holland#fratboy!tom holland#frat boy tom holland x reader#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland fanfic#tom holland fic#tom holland ff#tom holland imagine#tom holland blurb#tom holland fluff#tom holland hc#tom holland headcanon#tom holland#peter parker x reader#erule's masterlist#the frat party#chapter 2
221 notes
·
View notes
Text
fic recs january 2021
hi guys!! okay so i got to thinking and i’ve seen a lot of these posts around so i made my own!! i think that fic rec masterposts are such a great way to support writers and get more people to have the chance of seeing fics!!! plus i’m leaving a bit of feedback too :))
if you know of any fics that you’d like to share a little love on / you’d like me to read so that i can reblog and give it a little love, send me an ask with the title and the author’s url!!!
so here it is, all the fics that i read in january 2021 (and the very end of december but i’m including them anyway)
total number of fics listed: 92 (series counted as a single piece)
@moonchildstyles
aster / tattoo artist harry
aster | daffodil | sweet pea | gardenia | poppy
i read this entire series at like 8 am after not sleeping the night before and oh my god i was literally so soft!! like this is so fucking cute i literally felt like i was going to throw up the entire time (in the best way yk) like omg the butterflies i got from this series? unmatched. also, i feel that it’s necessary to add the part of this that made my heart absolutely explode: Harry’s thumb stroked her jawline, a smile molding his features. “Y’not a baby love, unless you want to be my baby. And I like you a lot, too. And stuff. like okay kill me <3
citrine / witch harry
citrine | opal | lepidolite | sodalite | carnelian | angelite
alright so h is literally so sweet in this one!! he’s so gentle and lovely and i truly fell in love with him in the very first few paragraphs. and he’s so out of tune with everything but he’s trying his best to understand and just... sigh. “I’d look forever for you, if I had to.” love love love this line so much it’s literally the perfect way to tie everything together
chiaroscuro / vampire harry
chiaroscuro | sfumato | craquelore | non finito | fresco | renaissance
this is very creepy during the first chapter but in such a good way!!! i literally found myself gasping and i barely ever vocally react to a fic unless i am squealing at the fluff or crying but i vocally react to lindsee’s fics literally they are so good pleaseee. and omg the growth throughout this fic truly is impeccable i swear.
@gucciwins
adore you
okay this is so cute!!! loved every single word of it!!! there was a bit of angst at the very beginning that had my heart hurting but it was all mended by the end!!! the dad!harry content was absolutely immaculate omg i literally loved reading about atticus!!!!! i absolutely love long pieces and i think that this piece was the perfect length!! there were so many things that were packed in there but it didn’t seem rushed or jumbled or anything like that!!!!
@soysauceharry
watashi no sakura
okay first things first, i love japanrry in any form so i knew just by looking at the description that i was going to love this regardless of what was in it. to be honest i didn’t expect him to have a penny board that he used to get everywhere but there’s something so cute about that to me. throughout this entire fic, i was so amazed at the way that their relationship moved along so naturally and at such a good pace. i feel like there’s an art to making things move along at the right pace, and you definitely have that down!! i truly loved this fic so much and will probably be coming back at times to reread!
@havethetimeofyourstyles
143
i am very in love with this!!! boxer!h is so freaking yummy plus it’s so well written that i can feel everything, which is so amazing. i love that i’m able to feel all the emotions and picture everything while reading!! my heart broke a bit for harry while he was sad and just looking for love in any way he could find it. like mega sigh. also, i love the way that the characters are introduced. like, y/n doesn’t come at the very beginning but it’s so natural when she’s finally introduced. and omg the interactions that they had??? the reassurances??? *chef’s kiss*
baby, it’s cold outside
before i even started reading this, i knew i would love it!!! teacher!h has a special place in my heart for some reason i truly love him so much!! oh my god the yearning in this piece is so heartbreaking!!!! i literally read through the entire thing thinking that i was going to cry because of how much i could feel y/n and harry yearning for each other. sigh this is so cute i will definitely be rereading (most likely multiple times)
bright & blooming
ahhh this is literally so cute i live for the long distance friendships + only seeing each other over the summer!!! that is literally so amazing to me that you love someone that much to wait all year to only see them for a month!!! and this was such a good representation of the love and yearning that come with that!!! and i absolutely adore the way that you described each of them and their nicknames for each other!!!! love love love!!!
where the world takes you
this is my study abroad dream!!!!! the loveliness of them meeting and drunk!harry is just so sweet i love it so much!!! and the way that the flashback is in the middle and explains everything is so genius!!! and the full circle of it all makes me so happy!!! also the way that i cried at the end of the four months!! like that was heartbreaking but everything was pieced back together as it went along!!!
extra credit
this is prof!h so you know it’s great!!! i am such a sucker for this au i swear. this was so cute!! the way that everything progressed and the confession and the tension!!!! and then the “Yours.” at that one part had me screaming!!! and the way that he literally had a plan oh my god that’s so cute!!!! i love their dynamic so much!!!
deep sleep
this is so :) :( :) :( if that makes sense!! like i love love love dad!harry but there are just a few things that make me want to sob <3 i absolutely adore it though!!!!! it’s very sweet how mr. styles comes out here comforting as he should!!!!
beautiful inside & out
this is so sweet oh my god it’s beautifully written and i really felt everything that was going on!! personally, i’m not a person of color, but i think that this piece truly was written so wonderfully and it’s very lovely!!!! the insecurities made me literally want to cry, but the way that h was there to comfort was very nice, it made me so soft!!
admiring
this is so sweet!! the background snippet in there is so well done i love getting to know exactly how they met!!! and the way that harry’s being admired is just!!! so good!!!! like i love the descriptions and the feelings connected to that!!!! the entire thing is just so cute!!
for your eyes only
i shed tears reading this!! like it is so sad but also so happy!! i know that makes no sense but there was just a sense of my heart breaking and then it being put back together again and i love that!!! definitely a fantastic use of ‘if i could fly’ which is one of my fav one direction songs so that’s just a plus honestly!!!
@greenorangevioletgrass
to feel good
miss ava!!!! coming out strong with your first harry fic!!!! it’s so lovely, so pure, so sweet!!!! the memories that are included make everything that much better!!! the flashback really fills out everything nicely!!! the interaction that the two of them had at the end was so comforting to read like... that’s literally one of the most wonderful endings i’ve ever experienced on a fic like this!!!
@adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy
demon!harry
angel!y/n - a total of 51 blurbs, drabbles, and one-shots
demon!y/n - a total of 8 blurbs, drabbles, and one-shots
yeah okay so there are...... a lot of things here so i’ll do a demon!harry + angel!y/n feedback thingy and a different one for demon!harry + demon!y/n
demon!harry + angel!y/n: he’s such an asshole but he’s... already kinda turning soft like... he’s already got the little simp showing through!! “ When it comes to love, if it doesn’t hurt, it isn’t fun.” i’ll cry right here right now what the fuck is this?? sigh. “Tell me…” He gulps thickly, licking his burning lips in anticipation, “tell me you want me. Tell me this— whatever this is— tell me it’s real.” yeah that made me almost scream literally shut up andrea. also not me reading this and literally sobbing at some of the pieces like... no <3 “I promise on my soul— as damned as it may be— that I will not let anything bad happen to you. I swear.” i literally want to set myself on fire what the hell the things your brain comes up with literally what the fuck. i literally read all 51 pieces in a day and cried a million times but they were just because i’m soft for simprry.
demon!harry + demon!y/n: okay so i am writing this after i’ve read the first two pieces and.... that escalated quite quickly i would say!!! if you like smut, you’ll like this!!!!!! if you like smut just go to andrea she’s got you!!!!! and we see some more simprry but not full swing because he doesn’t want to admit that he’s wrapped around her finger!!! and the way they’re not exclusive but they’re each other’s? *chef’s kiss*
@jawllines
harry is the bad boy cliché of y/n’s dreams, she just doesn’t know it yet
this is so very sweet, so very soft!! all the pet names have me crying omg it’s literally one of the cutest things!!!! the way harry is so soft for her and he’s just so sweet and so obvious about his feelings even though she doesn’t completely see it is so sweet!!!!
harry’s a porn star and y/n is new
i love their dynamic here!! they automatically click and everything between them is so genuine and lovely!!! the way that they care about each other so immensely even though they haven’t known each other that long is so beautiful!!
harry is y/n’s dominant
okay obviously this is like... smut but it’s so much more than that!!! their relationship is so sweet and lowkey domestic even from the very beginning and i love the trust that they have in each other!!! very cute!! and the ending was so so perfect!!!
y/n works in a roller rink and harry goes there to read
literally so sweet!!! the shy, kinda introverted h is to ide for!!!! and the way that they’re so cute together ahhh!!!!!! and i absolutely love the way that they support each other and are falling for each other before they even admit that they are!!!!
harry’s a vampire and y/n never dresses for the weather
i love how when they met it wasn’t on great terms and he couldn’t get her off his mind so he was like “no, stay away!” but he was already so whipped for her and then!!!! when he asked how to be warm for her??? that made me so soft i literally thought i was going to cry.
harry and y/n are best friends and y/n isn’t his “type” (or so she’s heard)
this is so absolutely soft!!! they’re so whipped for each other and don’t even know it!!! and miss y/n hearing things made my heart break but all was well at the end!!! love love love!!! the entire dynamic that they have is so fun plus there were peeks of jealous h so that’s always a win!!!
y/n and harry don’t really mesh well, until they do
we love a bit of an enemies to lovers moment!! and the whole “y/n’s being a good friend to jeff, that’s it” and the tension and the drunk cuteness and literally all of it, it’s so wonderful!! harry being a softie is one of my weaknesses and although he’s a bit mean at first, he redeems himself!!
harry’s on the football team and y/n steals a dog
this is absolutely so cute!!! y/n has such a beautiful little personality and harry feeling things with her even though his “reputation” is different than hanging out with people like her is so great!! and the way that he takes up for her and the way that she comforts him is so lovely!!
harry is y/n’s grumpy neighbor and he has a secret part 2
this is actually the second time that i’ve read this fic tbh!! it’s just so good!! the dynamic of him trying to stay away from her because it’s dangerous for her to be too close to him and then him trying even harder to stay away from her and hide his feelings only for her to make a move is golden.
y/n pretends to be harry’s girlfriend
okay this one hurt a bit at first. i wanted to flick h in the forehead at first for trying to make someone else jealous with y/n but he redeemed himself as he does so i shall let him off the hook this time haha. i think that the way that they progress is so sweet plus!!! everyone loves a good fake dating au!!!
werewolves exist... pt. 2
this is the first werewolf au i’ve read in a while and it’s actually really good!! i love how everything progressed and the way that harry was like.... this isn’t supposed to happen like this!!!! it’s all very cute and it’s very enemies to lovers-esque even though they aren’t enemies lmao
y/n delivers sweets and harry lives on the side of a mountain
this made me so sad tbh like... the fact that they treated harry so bad just because they judged him before they know him makes me so sad and i really wanted to punch some people but it’s a fictional universe so i can’t actually do that lol. but the way that y/n was with him made me so soft i really love this piece
y/n is on harry’s tour crew and harry just think’s she’s lovely
y/n is so sweet in this piece!!! it makes my heart hurt when harry gets overwhelmed and snaps but thankfully everything is well in the end and he gets his act together so that he can realize what is truly important!!!
harry is y/n’s criminology instructor part 2
this dynamic is an automatic yes and that’s on my love for this au. anyway, the way that he was like “it’s just a kiss” made me absolutely want to scream but i didn’t and thankfully i didn’t write him off as a prick because he’s actually so sweet and he takes care of her and loves her and just... he’s everything.
harry used y/n as a model for his art final
i wanted to smack harry upside the head so hard when he kept talking about his crush when y/n just wanted a good partner. thankfully he finally saw the light and realized that the only thing he wants is y/n by his side because y/n is there for him and cares about him and loves him
#fic recs#harry styles#harry styles writing#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#harry styles smut#i was reading SO MUCH at the beginning of january but i've kinda dropped off :(#i'm hoping to read more this upcoming month though!!#i have three fics that i want to read before i go to bed but they'll be on the next list :)
527 notes
·
View notes
Text
Spy Games [Chapter 1] : More Than It Seems
Characters: Twice Momo, Male Reader
4579 words
Authors Note: This is literally the first fiction writing I have done since I was a little kid writing stories about a town full of hamburgers. I was inspired to try my hand at writing by the plethora of amazing kpop smut writers out there right now, but by @lockefanfic, @nsfwtwicecatcher, @nsfwflint, and @ggidolsmuts in particular. If there are any similarities between my writing and theirs, please forgive me as I’ve spent more hours than I’d care to admit “researching” their work.
One thing that amazes me is how the hell everyone cranks out thousands of words with such frequency, as this post isn’t even 5k and it took forever to write. I can’t begin to explain how much respect I have for all the authors out there who can write so much and maintain such high levels of quality.
As a new writer, I welcome any and all feedback! Feel free to drop me a line if you have any critiques, or if you just want to chat!
***
“Coming up on the target now.”
“Roger that, remember the office is on the top floor. Let us know when you’re inside. And remember, no elevators...” teases your handler, Choa.
“Thanks for the reminder,” you reply sarcastically.
You survey the skyscraper against the night sky--it would be impressive if it weren’t one of a hundred just like it downtown Seoul--and wonder what you had done to deserve getting the short end of the stick. Of course, you knew there was a reason to avoid the elevators: they sat directly in front of the building’s concierge and the cameras in the lobby, while the stairwell lay in a remote part of the first floor. The logic behind your impending hike didn’t make the reality any less abhorrent.
“Meanwhile, Seolhyun gets to infiltrate an organization in the Caymans. Just my fucking luck.” you grumble to yourself.
“Oh, stop whining, you big baby,” says Choa, reminding you to keep your thoughts to yourself.
You sneak past the lobby and towards the back of the floor you find the entrance to the stairwell in a poorly lit area.
“Beginning my climb.” you report, shaking out your legs as you prepare to go up.
“Sir, I-I’m getting some interference over comms,” chimes in the timid voice of the girl you knew to be your newest team member, Yoo Jeongyeon. “It could just be local chatter, but I want to make sure it’s not someone trying to listen in.”
“Probably nothing to worry about, but we’ll let you know if there’s anything you need to worry about.” Choa assures you.
As you climb up the stairs, you wonder why anyone would want to listen in on this particular mission. This was a run-of-the-mill operation to investigate money laundering at an accounting firm. You’d infiltrated foreign governments, broken into and bugged the offices of billionaire CEOs, and tailed enemy agents. You could understand people wanting to hear those comms, but this? Either someone wanted something to listen to as a sleep aid, or this mission was more interesting than it looked.
A tip had come in through one of the new girls at the Intel Desk reporting that there was some fishy activity related to organized crime going on at the accounting firm. This was routine and you’d gone on dozens of similar recon missions before: break in, find suspicious intel, get out. But if someone wanted so badly to hear what was going on, the new girl may have stumbled onto something worthy of a promotion. Hayoung, you think her name was. Her chestnut, shoulder-length hair along with her well-endowed physique reminded you of a young mother, but her mature beauty belied her young age. You had caught yourself more than a few times fantasizing about her in your off hours…
You stop mid-way in the stairwell, scolding yourself for losing focus. Too often over the course of the last year you found yourself fantasizing about the women in your life. Sure, before the incident with Eunha you had sexual thoughts about your coworkers--you were surrounded by beautiful women, after all. But recently you noticed that your life was increasingly preoccupied with sex: both in your thoughts and the real-life exploits you carried out.
Much longer than a few minutes later, you reach the 63rd floor out of breath and sweating, wishing more than ever that it was you and not Seolhyun lounging on the beach. You take a moment to compose yourself before peeking out into the office floor to see if the coast is clear.
“We may have a problem, boss. Jeongyeon looked into the comms disturbance and someone much more sophisticated than the average joe is definitely trying to tap in,” Choa says. “Jeongyeon’s kicking their ass right now blocking their access, but there’s only so much she can do alone. Eventually we’re going to lose control of this channel.”
“Dammit. I knew something was off with this op,” you grumble. “If they want to listen in to whatever I find, it must be important. We’ll go dark. Recon says this should be a quick in and out anyways. I’ll tag you once I’m out.”
“Be careful. Signal us if anything goes wrong. Just don’t do anything stupid.” replies Choa.
“What do you think they pay me all this money for?” you tease, wanting to put her nerves at ease. “See you on the other side. Over and out.”
You could hear the concern in her voice. Even though keeping you safe was part of her job, you knew she cared about you. You also knew as well as she did that anything could go wrong even in the five minutes it would take you to break in, especially when it appeared that someone knew exactly what you were doing.
You switch off your comms link and head out the door and into the office.
It looked exactly as you expected--rows and rows of non-descript cubicles, with a princely office lined with glass walls occupying the far corner. Jeongyeon had retrieved the floor plan by hacking into the building’s security database earlier in the week, and you knew after her effort tonight in detecting and fending off the comms interference that Choa would want you to acknowledge the work the new girl had been putting in. She certainly was more skilled than the five previous team members you’d fired after Eunha, but you found it difficult to bring yourself to praise her. The Ops Officer position she occupied was a sore point for you, after all.
You deftly pick the lock on the corner office door and immediately sit down in front of the terminal on the desk, logging in with the security bypass Jeongyeon drew up.
Again your thoughts drift to Eunha. Eunha was your longtime Ops Officer--highly skilled, you trusted her more than anyone. It also helped that she was your fiance. It made you sad to think about her; about what could have been, what should have been. Over the past year, you were constantly reminded of her absence by the utter incompetence of her replacements. You suppose it was nice that at the very least, Jeongyeon didn’t give you many opportunities to bemoan her performance in the same way--to remind you of Eunha.
You shake your head, compelling yourself to rise out of your funk and get on with the mission.
As you scroll through files, you stop on one with a familiar signature. Reading its contents, your eyes open wider--suddenly you understand why someone would be interested to listen in to your communications. You quickly save the file to your flash drive and stand up to leave, only to be startled by a figure in the doorway.
“Care to tell me what’s on that?” comes a familiar voice from the darkness that you knew to be Hirai Momo’s. Momo was an agent for a foreign espionage agency--you had as friendly a rivalry as you could have when working for different governments.
“What was the point of trying to hack our comms if you were just going to show up and ask me that?”
“I had no intention of coming until you decided to ghost your girlfriends,” teases Momo. “Besides, I like showing you how much better I am at sneaking around.”
Momo flicks on the light and she comes into focus. The Japanese government made a good decision when they hired her, you think. She was built for the job of a seductive spy. Her perfectly toned legs had a lovely sheen all the way up to her short skirt, while her cleavage suggested that her tits were ready to burst out of her tight, patterned blouse. Where most of your attention was drawn, however, was her lustrous blue hair, which fell to her shoulders.
“I may actually need your help with this, once you see what’s on it,” you say, nodding your head at the flash drive.
“Oh, so you’re willing to give it to me? I thought I was going to have to fuck you for it,” she says sarcastically. You knew behind the humor was more than a nugget of truth, though. Sex had been the primary vehicle for information trading with Momo over the years. You decide to test your reading of the situation.
“Just because I need your help doesn’t mean I’m giving it for free…”
Momo brings her thumb to her mouth and bites gently as she ponders your not-so-subtle proposition. She takes her turn to look you up and down, making you feel more than a little self conscious in her gaze of judgment. After so many years in the dangerous world of espionage, there were only a handful women who could make you feel so small. Then again, Momo was no regular girl.
Once she’s satisfied she has properly appraised your worth, Momo lets go of her thumb and straightens her blouse.
“Fine,” she says matter-of-factly, “let’s get to it,” unbuttoning her blouse as she walks towards you.
You are surprised by the lack of fight she put up, but you thought it best to keep that to yourself. Her tone reminds you of a business meeting--that is, if you hadn’t seen her pull her top off as she approached you. She sits in your lap on the chair, wrapping her arms around your neck as you meet her lips for a kiss. Momo’s mouth was familiar to you, introduced to you many times throughout your career. It seemed like every time you ran across her you had sex. One thing you adored about your relationship with her was that it was absolutely without strings attached. You fucked for work, but just because it was part of the job didn’t mean you both didn’t enjoy it.
Momo, however, was loath to admit the pleasure she got out of her liaisons with you. Call it pride, call it being professional, whatever--Momo refused to act like sex with you was anything other than work, no different than working in a spreadsheet.
You feel her reach down to your pants, quickly unbuttoning them as she sinks to her knees in front of you. You smirk--her eagerness to please you betrayed her air of ambivalence.
Momo wastes no time getting down to business. You are certain the Japanese trained her very well in tender foreplay, but it seems she doesn’t care much for subtlety at the moment. Instead, she utilizes a more direct method to extract your pleasure--one that must have required its own fair share of training--as she spits on your cock before immediately forcing it as deeply in her mouth as she can take it. One, two, three bobs is all it takes for her to reach the base of your cock, her nose buried in your pelvis.
“Fuuuck me, that’s good,” you groan as you hold her head in place for several seconds, and Momo replies in turn with a cough that spits a healthy serving of saliva on to your cock. You release your grip on the back of her head to give her a chance to breathe, but she surprises you when she simply continues to work her mouth on your increasingly saliva-drenched cock, swirling her tongue around your base. Most of the other women you had slept with in recent months would be gasping for air by now, but Momo’s demeanor was cool, calm, and collected. Almost as if she was reading your mind, Momo paused her slurping and pulled her mouth off your shaft--but not forgetting to continue stroking it with achingly deft corkscrew motions.
“What’s the matter? Girls in your department not able to take care of your cock like a real woman?” Momo clicks her tongue and grins. “I’ve told you for years, you’d never be treated so poorly if you came to work for a professional outfit like ours.”
“Shut up and suck my cock.”
Momo shrugs, and gets back to the task at hand. Slobbering even more as she takes you into your mouth again, you pause to thank your lucky stars that you had a job that paid you in part to fuck women like Momo. You gaze upon her face, which has become just as messy as your cock. Momo’s sloppy blowjob has not only left liberal amounts of spit on your cock, but on her face as well--with strands of her blue hair plastered to her cheeks. Even though you thought it impossible, you feel your cock get harder at the sight of Momo’s messy face.
For several minutes, Momo continues inhaling your cock as you find yourself nearing the point of no return, you yank Momo’s head off your throbbing cock in order to prolong your session. A bit too forcefully, it seems, as Momo falls over onto her side.
“What the fuck!” yelps Momo as she picks herself back up, glaring at you. “I suck your cock and you thank me by throwing me on the ground?
“I didn’t mean to, I’m just not ready to cum yet. We both know you would’ve ignored me if I had asked you to stop.”
“I guess you’re right about that,” Momo replies sheepishly. You knew from previous run-ins with her that she loved nothing more than swallowing cum. Even though you had just denied her that favor, you were already thinking about how to make it up to her in a few minutes.
“How about I repay your kindness? Get up on the table and let me eat you.”
“Let’s skip the pleasantries. I’ll get up on the table, but you’re going to fuck me.”
“Someone’s eager to see what’s in this thumb drive,” you tease, inadvertently reminding yourself that this was a transactional liaison. You suspected that Momo’s interest in you extended beyond her desire for the information at hand, and part of you yearned to take her outside of the confines of work. You’re skeptical such a day would ever come, however, given how ambitious Momo was.
You knew her story--she applied for a job in the Japanese spy agency several years ago, making it all the way through the process before being cut at the very end. She ended up receiving an offer shortly after one of the other finalists died in a ‘training accident’, but Momo lived with a chip on her shoulder ever since. She lived and worked with a pathological drive to prove the agency wrong in their original decision to cut her. Already the youngest lead operative in her country’s history, she had an eye on the directorship and seemed destined for it. So, you supposed, it was nice to be able to fuck her before she became famous.
Momo hops on up on the desk, hiking up her skirt to reveal a delicious-looking blue thong that matches her hair. She looks behind towards you with lust heavy in her eyes as she pulls her thong to the side, revealing her glistening pussy--already dripping, you noted.
“I don’t have all night.”
More than happy to oblige, you line your painfully throbbing cock up with her pussy and you can feel the warmth radiating from it. You take a second to appreciate Momo’s incredible physique as your hands graze downward from her upper back, to her hips, and finally to her ass. As you rub it, you cannot help but appreciate how sublimely taut it is.
“Jeeze, you act like this is the first time you’ve seen a woman naked,” Momo jabs, interrupting your reverie.
You are starting to get annoyed with Momo’s demeanor. It was nothing new, really--she always carried an air of superiority--but it nonetheless grates on your nerves to see her be so dismissive. You are mature enough to understand that at least a part of this aggravation had to do with the fact that you knew Momo slept with plenty of men for work. Not so mature, however, to be able to stifle the primal urge deep inside of you that wanted Momo to see you as the best of all her lovers. More than ever, it seemed that sexual vanity mattered a great deal to your self-confidence.
With a renewed sense of purpose and your cock in hand, you enter Momo slowly with a long stroke until you fill her to the hilt. In unison with your initial insertion, Momo lets out a whine that crescendos as you bottom out.
As you begin to thrust in and out Momo settles in and widens her stance ever so little, which has the added benefit of allowing you to go even deeper into her warm, wet pussy. Momo was not a girl of surprises. Her face was gorgeous, capable of angelic beauty and fiery lust. Her body reflected the many hours she spent in the gym with ample breasts, insanely tight abs, and a toned ass to match. Her pussy feels exactly as sublime as her beautiful face and incredible body suggested. The perfect combination for a woman who used her body to seduce and take advantage of brainless men. You decide to push out your mind the realization that at this very moment, you are in fact one of those men.
You wanted to make sure Momo felt each and every drive into her hot flesh. Momo continued to moan quietly, each breath punctuated with a new thrust and the sound of your skin meeting hers.
“Looks like someone’s gotten real quiet all of a sudden,” you say, noticing her haughty attitude had subsided as pleasure took you both over.
“Oh, get over yourself,” Momo says, looking back at you with rekindled determination in her eyes, “you’re no better than half the guys I’ve been with. I’m here for the file, not for whatever you call this.” She cooly turns her head to face front again, leaving you seething.
Your twinge of annoyance was now a bubbling boil.
You slow down before withdrawing your cock from her warmth--Momo lets out the faintest whine of disappointment, betraying her dissatisfied front.
Just as Momo turns her head again to complain, you quickly slam your cock deep inside her. Momo yelps, and you notice her eyes bulge as you move your hips in a circular motion with your cock filled to the hilt, scraping deep inside her pussy. After several seconds of this you grab a makeshift ponytail out of her hair and yank backwards, causing her to gasp and arch her back instinctively. As much as she bothered you with her air of indifference, you had to admit that the image in front of you was the stuff of dreams.
Taking advantage of the highly erotic sight before you and the increased leverage offered by your grasp of her hair, you began to truly fuck her with quick and powerful strokes.
“Take it, Momo,” you grunted, beads of sweat beginning to form on your forehead.
Momo said nothing, emitting only breathless gasps from her open mouth. You noticed that their intensity was gradually increasing, so you increased the speed of your shaft penetrating her young, sinful body. You knew she was enjoying this, but you wouldn’t be satisfied until you broke her facade. You wanted her to lose herself to you.
You speed up even more, and the volume of your skin slapping together increases as her pussy drips wetter and wetter, mixing with your leaking precum. You are slamming your cock into her now, and Momo has to grab on to the table to steady herself. Slowly but surely her pretense was crumbling.
“You want it, don’t you Momo? You want more?”
“Fuck yeah,” Momo gasps hoarsely, struggling to speak with her hair being pulled, “Give it to me...o-oh...fuck, give it to me!”
Satisfied that she had succumbed to her pleasure, you relax your grip on her hair slightly and lean over to growl in her ear.
“I’ll give it to you. I’m gonna make sure you remember this, make sure every time you’re with another man you wish it was me.”
Momo acknowledges your promise with a deep groan, giving you great pleasure as you resumed fucking her gorgeous body.
Your eyes drift downward to her glorious ass, now shining with sweat and jiggling violently with each crash of your cock inside her. Inspired by the sight, you release her hair and put one hand on her hip and begin striking her ass with your other. Momo shrieks in surprise, but quickly looks back at you with lidded eyes while biting her lip to tell you she wanted more.
Again you oblige, and it was quickly becoming clear that lust and pleasure were staging a coup of Momo’s senses. She’s making lots of noise, but nothing intelligible. Nothing but guttural moans interspersed with high-pitched squeals. You continue spanking her ass, alternating cheeks--noticing a deep pink beginning to form on both. She’d most likely be dealing with soreness for several days after this, you think.
“You wanna cum, Momo? Cum for me, I know you want to.”
“Mmmmm...Ah, ah, AH! Unggghh,” comes Momo’s response.
“Come on Momo, fucking cum baby...cum all over this cock,” you shout, sincerely hoping there was no one working in an adjacent floor to hear.
“FUUUUCK!” Momo screams eloquently, suddenly dropping her head as her body begins convulsing. You knew what to expect having slept with her before, but you are nonetheless surprised to see how completely overtaken her body was by pleasure. Her upper body jerks spastically as her legs tremble with your cock plunged deep inside her pussy, all the while letting out a high-pitched whine that turns into a soft whimper. Just a few minutes before she was defiant and happy to throw insults at you...now she was a mewling, writhing mess incapable of speaking. The dark, primal part of you is satisfied by her tacit recognition of your talent.
After a short while, Momo begins to compose herself and lifts her upper body from the table. You take it as a sign to slowly resume taking your cock in and out of her. You decide to give her now glowing pink ass a rest and caress her back, tracing long lines with your nails.
“Mmmmm, that feels good,” Momo says, her eyes still closed, “you fuck me so good.”
You slowly begin ramping up the pace, rolling your hips with each stroke. You want to make sure your cock pleases every inch of Momo’s pussy, and make sure it craves you when she’s alone at night.
After several minutes of this tender, softer version of lovemaking, Momo comes back to her senses. She arches her back again and turns her head to gaze in your eyes as you continue to take her. She begins to move her ass back and forth on your cock in unison with your own strokes.
“Oh my god, you feel so good in my fucking pussy! Every...fucking...stroke!” Momo gasps, the final words punctuated by the force of her majestic ass crashing against your cock.
“You’re a bad girl, Momo,” you tease, “you like being taken and shown who’s boss, don’t you? You like me grabbing your hair and slapping your ass?”
“Yes!” she gasps, “Yes I love it! Mmmmm...I want you to fuck me until you cum. Fuck me until you cum!”
There was no command in the world easier to follow.
Satisfied that you had fulfilled your vain, immature desire to see her acknowledge your skill as a lover, you now focus yourself on extracting pleasure from the young woman beneath you. You settle into a pace with rough strokes, fiercely pounding her over and over. Your pleasure rises with each thrust, aided not only by the mindblowing caress of her pussy, but by the incredible sight of Momo on all fours before you moaning with each strike of your cock inside her.
“Fuck Momo...I don’t think I have much longer, I’m gonna fucking cum so hard!”
“Yes,” comes the response from Momo, “Yes, yes! Fucking cum baby, I want your cum so bad!”
A few more thrusts and you can feel the point of no return coming. For a brief moment you contemplate cumming inside Momo, to truly claim her. You quickly reconsider, wanting to give her what she truly wanted--to swallow your load.
And so, you quickly withdraw your cock from Momo’s now sopping wet pussy and she instinctively turns around and drops to her knees on the floor. Stroking your cock with great fervor, her mouth wide open begging for what was to come.
“Please give me your cum, please, please! I want it...I need it! Cum for me!”
Your head tilts backward as a long groan escapes your lips. Your cum explodes from your shaft, shooting long, thick ropes of semen into her mouth and onto her cheeks and nose. Over and over, your cum splashes on her beautiful face until you finally reach the end of your orgasm, panting and exhausted. Momo’s face is a pornographic picture of lust, her eyes rolled back in pleasure as she swallows the mass of cum you deposited in her mouth.
“I fucking love your cum,” Momo says as she wipes the remaining cum off her face with her finger and promptly brings it to her tongue before swallowing it down as well.
“I’m glad we were both able to get what we wanted,” you say, struggling to catch your breath.
“Speaking of getting what I wanted…” Momo says, nodding her head to the part of the floor where the USB drive now sits, evidently thrown from the table during the session that had just taken place.
“Right,” you say, suddenly remembering you’re here for work, “make a copy and let’s get out of here.”
“Great,” says Momo, still on the floor with a satisfied smile of content on her face, “Hey, I meant what I said about having you join our team. As much shit as I give you, we could really use someone with your talent.”
“Thanks, but I think I’m better off staying put. Don’t think the Korean government would let me live if I tried defecting.”
“Probably true,” says Momo as she begins picking up her clothes, “Never hurts to ask, though.”
***
A few minutes later, you and Momo had both gotten dressed and copied the file onto a drive for her. Momo disappeared into an adjoining hallway and you set off to traverse the stairwell again. As you prepare yourself for the descent, you also steel yourself for the repercussions of giving the intel to a foreign spy agency. With the information you saw in the file, you knew the Japanese would have to be looped in sooner or later. If it was going to happen eventually, you thought it made the most sense to entrust that intel to the agent on the other side you knew would make sure things got done correctly. As logical as it seemed to you, however, you knew it wouldn’t be taken well back at the office.
You click on your comms link, now knowing there’s nothing to fear.
“Hey Choa, I’m on my way back to the rendezvous.”
“Oh thank god! That took forever, I was about to call for a tac team!” Choa sighs with audible relief, “I take it you got everything you needed?”
“Got more than I needed, actually,” you say, nervous about Choa’s reaction to what you say next, “Listen, there’s one small thing you should know...”
“You did WHAT?!”
444 notes
·
View notes
Text
lady
Pairing; Marko x Emerson!Reader
Summary; Moving to a different state with your younger brothers and mother just to live with your grandfather was hard enough, but falling in love with a vampire and then watching your brother do the same thing? Much different story.
Warnings; strong language
au:// Welp lovelies I had promised you a Marko series in February that I started writing while I was manic, then after writing a good five/six chapters I fell into a deep dark hole of depression and didn’t write anything but sad, worthless poetry about a boy I’m in love with who doesn’t love me back :) But now it’s May, a spark of inspiration and happiness has suddenly hit me and I’ve come back to this series to finally deliver it to you!! I hope y’all like it cause I literally stress cried over finishing it three different times :,)
I’d also like to point out that any kind of feedback at all is so so appreciated. Most of my inspiration comes from feeding off of people’s reactions to what I write. So if you enjoy it or have any recommendations or comments at all please please don’t be shy to send me an ask or DM or even comment to let me know :( Thank you and enjoy!!
Part 2
I wasn’t exactly mad about moving, there was nothing holding me in Phoenix that I would be particularly sad about leaving behind. The only thing that struck a nerve was that it was dumped out of nowhere on me. Suddenly Mom had divorced Dad, let him keep everything, and made plans with Grandpa for us to move into his place with him. A little prior warning would have been appreciated, but regardless when we were told it didn’t change the fact that everything we knew was changing. Sam wasn’t happy about it at all, leaving his friends, leaving Dad. Michael... well Michael didn’t really have an opinion. In my view, he was just indifferent. He didn’t really care where the hell we were as long as he had a motorcycle, a job, and some hot chicks to swoon over.
But here we were, packed into Mom’s truck and driving through a town that I’d most likely have memorized like the back of my hand in a good few days. As the three in the car argued over which station to keep on, I turned my head and leaned my forehead on the window of the car. I watched the beach as we drove along the road, and admired the waves hitting against the sand.
I was ready to drift off until we got to Grandpa’s house when a short, exited yell left Mom’s lips. “Oh!” She grinned happily as Sam landed on a station familiar to her. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Oh, that’s from my era! Grooving on a Sunday afternoon!” She sung along with the song as Sam threw his head back and groaned in protest. I laughed at her antics, enjoying seeing my Mom acting so carefree and happy.
“Alright, keep going, keep going.” Mom and Sam agreed with each other at the same time, Mom leaning over to continue skipping through the stations. Finally, the next station was agreed on and my pounding head thanked the universe for the quiet that I hadn’t been able to achieve the entire drive here. “Hey we’re almost there!”
“Ugh,” Sam scrunched his nose up in disgust after taking a deep breath. I leaned forward to wrap my arms around his head-rest and pull my face closer to the open window. The pungent smell hit me, and I recognized it immediately, low tide, but it wasn’t bad - anything to do with the beach was calming to me regardless. “What’s that smell?”
“Ah!” Mom breathed in deeply and turned to share a knowing grin with me, “That’s the ocean air!”
I turned to look at the welcoming sign, taking in the colors and faded lettering. “Smells like someone died.” Sam muttered as Mom tutted at him softly.
“That’s likely.” I muttered to Michael, nudging his head in the direction of the back of the sign, where in big red spray-painted letters sat the phrase “Murder Capitol of the World.”
“Aw guys, I know the last year hasn’t been easy. But I do think you’re really going to enjoy living in Santa Carla.” Mom tried to remain happy about the situation, but a shared glance with Michael after we both read over the sign revealed there wasn’t much he was excited for.
The rest of the drive only increased my excitement. Hippies galore filled the streets, a large amusement park covered most of the boardwalk, and the rest was filled with small shops and food stands. We stopped for awhile so Mom could give some teenagers rummaging through garbage some money to eat and so Michael could unhinge his bike and ask around for job openings, but before I could even think to step out of the car and get a look around we were already heading into the backroads to get to Grandpa’s house.
Grandpa’s house was farther into the plains than expected, but still only a good fifteen to twenty minute drive away from town. Before Mom could ever fully park the car, I had already jumped out and was looking around the property. Michael pulled his bike up next to Mom’s car, and they all took a good few seconds to look around at all the wood carvings and chimes before turning their vehicles off. I took note of the horses grazing in one of the back fields before walking around the front of the truck and seeing a man laying on his back across the front porch steps.
Sam lead the way towards him before Mom cut in front and marched up the steps to squat beside him. “Dad?” She questioned gently. “Dad?” The three of us leaned closer to get a better look.
“Looks like he’s dead.” Michael remarked.
“Like... really dead.” I quipped in, raising an eyebrow at Mom.
“No, no. He’s just a deep sleeper.” She brushed our comments off.
“If he’s dead can we go back to Phoenix?” Sam remarked, earning a snort from me and a sharp look from Mom.
Suddenly Grandpa sat up, a cocky smirk apparent on his face. “Playing dead. And from what I hear, doing a damn good job of it.”
Sam rolled his eyes in exasperation before Mom laughed faintly. “Oh, Dad!”
-
That night, Mom decided that it would be good for the four of us to leave the house after a night of unpacking and explore the boardwalk when it’s at its liveliest. I could admit it looked much more enjoyable now that it was dark and a little chilly, the sweaty people that had been occupying it earlier were now less sweaty and more stoned.
Almost as soon as Mom’s car and Michael’s bike were parked, Mom sent us off on our own so she could spend some time staking out a job in one of the family-owned shops. “Do you think she’ll be able to find one?” Sam questioned as the three of us weaved through crowds, trying to find our way to the beach concert. We could certainly hear it, we were just having a bit of trouble actually getting to it.
“One what? A job?” Michael scoffed as if it was hard to believe, still bitter over the fact there was no legal jobs for him to get hired in.
I laughed, elbowing him softly in the side, knowing that this place was exactly his vibe and in time he would most likely come to love living here. Sam was the only one I was actually worried about. “She’ll probably be able to find one. What, with all these missing people, there’s bound to be tons of job openings.”
“You’re telling me. It’s like there’s hundreds of bullet-boards around every corner with dozens of people missing. This place really is the Murder Capital.” Michael remarked as the concert finally came into our line of sight.
“Don’t say that!” Sam pleaded, shoving Michael’s shoulder with his eyebrows knitted tightly.
Michael just held his hand up in surrender and with one last shrug of his shoulders he turned to me. “You checking out the shops? We’ll find you once we get bored.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I agreed, turning sharply on my heel and blindly making my way back into the crowd. The concert was loud, sweaty, and crowded, and it wasn’t even my style of music - the last thing I wanted to do was spend my first night there. I figured it would be much more productive if I were to check out all the shops and stands running up and down the entire area, maybe find some new pieces of jewelry, or even a possible summer job opportunity.
Many places caught my eye, and I made a mental note to check them out the next time I had free money to spend, as it wouldn’t be wise for me to make an impulse-buy when I’m so close to being completely broke. Instead a small stand in the middle of the walkway drew me to it. A piercing stand. One person working on someone already sitting on the chair. There was a large wall selection of different studs, and many different kinds of disinfectants lined along the counter.
I walked closer to the wall, admiring all the different designs they had. I’d absolutely love to get a helix or orbital piercing, but I knew it wasn’t the wisest to spend money doing something like that at a small stand on a boardwalk in Santa Carla of all places. I was suddenly broken out of my thoughts when a voice spoke up directly behind me.
“It’s a scam, you know.” I jumped, hand flying to my chest, and whipping around to look at the owner. A teenage boy, my age, maybe a little older, with long curly blond hair and a grin that could have probably wooed me into his bed by the end of the night had he not literally just scared the shit out of me.
I laughed breathlessly, shaking my head. “What is?”
“The piercings. If you need one done, I could do it for you. But they use the guns instead of a needle which will definitely infect if you’re planning on doing a cartilage one.” He explained with a tilt of his head as he turned and began making his way towards the restaurants. I took that as an invite to follow, jogging to catch up and walking next to him.
“You know a lot about piercings?” I tried to make small talk, not wanting him to get away just yet.
He nodded with a confident smirk. “I did my own, and my friends. Someone had to learn.” I laughed a little at his mock-annoyed tone and shoved my hands into my pockets to appear to be doing something. He suddenly stopped and turned to me, holding out his hand. “Marko, by the way.”
“Ivory.” I accepted his hand and we both shook, hard and firm.
“You’re new.” He nodded as if finally understanding something that had been going on inside his own head. “I would’ve noticed you before if you’d been here all along.”
We dropped each other’s hand and I gave him a quizzical look. “What do you mean by that?”
He barked out a laugh and shook his head. “Nothing rude, you’re just too gorgeous to go unnoticed around here.” Before I could reply, another voice cut in from a few yards away.
“Marko! Marko, man, we’re supposed to meet David in ten!” I looked over to see another punk-looking dude calling out to Marko with his hands cupped around his mouth.
I laughed and look back towards the curly blond. “See you around?”
He nodded in confirmation, sending me one last crooked smile before turning to jog over to his other friend. I turned as well, making my way back into the crowd and away from the middle lane stands. I didn’t make it very far before the body of my youngest brother crashed into my side. I glanced down at him in bewilderment as we used each other to steady ourselves.
“Sam? Aren’t you supposed to be with Michael?” I laughed as he looked as though he’d just had the weirdest conversation of his life.
“Well, I was. Then he saw some girl at the concert and wandered after her so I went to check out the comic store.” He explained, shrugging before letting his eyes wander around once more in search of Michael. I rolled my eyes, of course Michael left Sam behind to go chase after some girl. It didn’t take long to find him, he was only a little further down the stretch of restaurants. He was more towards the end, walking out of the crowd near where the last building - a bar - sat in place.
We walked up behind him, and as soon as I was at his side I followed his eyes to a girl who was walking behind a small child, hand on his shoulder, and steering him in a certain direction. She was pretty - with big, curly hair and a beautiful smile that curled her lips up as her eyes grazed over all the lights of the carousel one last time for the night. I followed her line of sight, trying to place why Michael was following her instead of just walking up and introducing himself, but I immediately realized what the problem was.
She hoisted herself up onto the back of a motorcycle, accepting the help of the blond driver. He had a spiked mullet, dressed in all black, and when he realized Michael was staring at his girl, a cocky kind of smirk crossed his face. His friends parked next him all revved their engines to a start, and I tore my eyes from the platinum blond to see the others. I didn’t manage to catch a good look at two of them, because my eyes immediately looked onto those of the punk from earlier who’d started a conversation with me over pierced ears.
He was already looking at me, and when he realized my attention immediately locked onto him, a predatory look filled the black circles of his eyes and his lips formed into a boyish smirk directed exactly at me. He lifted his hand in a short wave, laughing along with the friend who called him away from me earlier as he shoved Marko’s shoulder in a teasing way. I lifted my hand in a small acknowledging wave back, but was knocked out of my small trance by Sam, who began teasing Michael.
“Come on, she stiffed ya!” Sam laughed harmlessly, gently punching Michael’s shoulder and turning to probably go and find Mom. I broke my gaze away from Marko immediately, turning to follow after Sam and not bothering to look back at all as I heard the bikes pull out and speed off down the road.
“Too bad she left with Mr. Mullet, she was pretty.” I tried to break the tension with Michael, I really didn’t want him to be upset over the lose of the girl, he still had all of Santa Carla’s teenage population of girls to meet.
He cracked a smile and nudged his shoulder into mine. “She really was.”
Once we made it home for the night, I separated from both my brothers and made my way into my own room. It was the smallest of all of ours, but that’s the main reason why I had chose it. It was cozy, and cute. I liked the way it came out once I had finished decorating it.
I couldn’t help but let my mind wander to those boys on the motorcycles from earlier that night. Marko seemed nice enough, even if I didn’t know whether or not I was brave enough to try to pursue a friendship with his more than intimidating friends. Just as I came to the conclusion that I should just get over myself and approach them, a sharp sting of anxiety wedged itself into my gut and nauseous filled my stomach and rose up in my throat. No. I didn’t need to become friends with those boys, there was something off, something I didn’t need to meddle in.
If I saw them again, I’d avoid eye contact and conversation completely. I was never able to understand my anxiety, but I always listened to it when it struck me.
#the lost boys#the lost boys 1987#the lost boys imagine#the lost boys headcanon#the lost boys poly#the lost boys david#the lost boys marko#the lost boys dwayne#the lost boys paul#paul x reader#dwayne x reader#marko x reader#david x reader#billy wirth#alex winter#kiefer sutherland#brooke mccarter#paul the lost boys#david the lost boys#marko the lost boys#dwayne the lost boys#star the lost boys#the lost boys star#the lost boys x reader#the lost boys masterlist
258 notes
·
View notes
Text
you’re someone i just want around: V
“I must admit, I thought I’d like to make you mine
As I went about my business through the warning signs
End up meeting in the hallway every single time
And there’s nothing we can do about it.”
— Only Angel, Harry Styles
A/N: this chapter...it was probably my fav to write, so far!!! i just adore these two clueless morons so much like i just can’t shut up about them. quite a bit happens in this part and it’s all to build that slow burn, friends to lovers shit we all know and love baYBEEEEE!!! and also The Crew make an appearance because hello we love to see it, we truly do 😌😌😌 especially the man, the myth, the legend, Mitch Rowland and honestly?? this is HIS chapter fuck vampirerry!!! but yeah i hope y’all like what’s in store for the Dynamic Duo this time around and remember that feedback is truly, madly, deeply™ appreciated! and if you enjoy it, please reblog it! spreading content keep creators motivated! without further delay, let’s dive in 😼
harry’s condo : ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : ysijwa playlist
word count: 34k
content/warnings: witty banter, some nice fluff, jacuzzi sex, more fluff, a very testing phone call, some face f*cking, a soft shower, rough degradation, the return of The Handcuffs, an unexpected visit from The Three Stooges, more cheeky banter because that’s their brand, and the reveal of jealous asshole Harry
///
Y/N giddly accepts Harry’s offer to stay the weekend and the vampire can confidently say it’s one of the best he’s had in the last decade.
He’d startled even himself when the suggestion had risen abruptly from his mouth, leaving him blinking blankly as a result. He rarely allows anyone to spend more than a day in his condo— his friends being the only exception— because he’s grown to like the quiet solitude that comes with living on his own. He very solemnly has people over whom he hasn’t known for at least a few years, and that rule is reinforced on stricter grounds when it comes to humans. Especially when the only true connection they could possibly carry to him is through the area between their legs.
But Harry has become strangely fond of Y/N in the last four weeks— fond enough to freely refer to her as a friend and endeared enough to bypass the fact that she’s mortal. She just looks so unbelievably cute padding around his apartment barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of crumpled, sunflower-doodled panties and his Nike olive green jumper, her hair a mangled mess with traces of his cologne smeared across the bruised skin of her neck. Admittedly, it’s a sight he wants to see more often, which is a stab at his ego because he’s never been one to dwell on sentimentality— not for a while. It’s a bit cliche and gross, in his opinion, but when it comes to this one particular girl...well, maybe it’s not too bad. Indulging some soft pastimes can't do much damage, especially when it aids his plan to keep her interested until he himself grows bored.
It can only do good, which is probably what had spurred him into asking her to extend her stay. For once, he found himself not craving his usual silent seclusion. Not when that self-imposed isolation could be filled with her loud laughter, warm lips, and sweet moans instead.
And much to his satisfaction, Harry gets just that.
For the next two days, the creature gets all of his needs and wants attended to, both recreational and intimate. Y/N seems to enjoy it thoroughly, as well, walking— or rather waddling, really, thanks to some of their raunchier activities— around his flat happily, constantly clad in a pair of his boxers and one of his graphic tees. He gets off on it— it’s hard not to, especially with the way she fits his clothes so effortlessly, almost as if she was made to fill them. Or the way the scent of his shampoo is combed through every strand of her hair, his smell slathered all over her as if she’s unconsciously trying to mark herself as his. Or the way new love bites cover the ones his blood had nearly faded, which she dotes shamelessly by pushing all her hair behind her shoulders so Harry can get a perfect view of every welt he’s left behind on her throat. Or the way she unapologetically giggles at all his jokes and crude humor, and how she paddles his witty banter right back at him with that clever gleam in her irises.
He gets off on the way Y/N cuddles into him on the couch while they’re watching some mindless Food Network series, her body heat expelling the stiff coldness from his limbs. The way she kisses tenderly along the underside of his jaw, forefinger tracing over his Adam’s Apple teasingly, a smile spreading against his skin when she feels it bob heavily. The way she’ll sneak her hand between his thighs and palm him over his briefs, taking the shell of his ear between her teeth and hissing lowly when his cock twitches against her fingers, her voice soft as silk but heavy with dirty intentions. “Want to make you feel good again, H. Can I?”
The human girl is a blessing, while simultaneously being a walking, talking sin, and the monster’s never been more willing to damn himself to Hell. And he would gladly do it, if he wasn’t already living it in the form of blood-driven eternity.
It’s an eventful weekend, that’s for sure, and despite the fact that they share an abundance of memorable moments, there are a few that Harry deems especially unforgettable.
The jacuzzi sex sits at the top of that list.
Y/N had practically squealed when she’d laid eyes on the glorified tub in his bathroom, pacing over to it excitedly and leaning down to run her fingers over the control panel along the rim. Her voice had come out whispered, full of child-like wonder. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Harry had walked over to stand beside her, his icy digits pressing on top of her warm own, finagling the buttons into his preferred settings. Hot water begins to shoot out of all the polished jets one by one, slowly filling the pool and covering the dark marble wrap-around ledge used as seating. The vampire quickly fetches the bag of lavender Epsom salts he keeps close by, scooping a couple handfuls into the frothing hot tub, along with pouring in a decent amount of jasmine bubble bath.
His lips jolt when he catches Y/N eyeing the jacuzzi in awe, her hands clasped to her chest in delight as she teeters back and forth ever so slightly on her heels. The water shuts off once it reaches the appropriate level, leaving behind a thick, luxurious sheet of suds that smells of sugary florals and clean linen. The second the jets retract, Harry doesn’t even have time to make a comment before Y/N begins stripping down hurriedly, obviously restless to take on this new experience.
Harry spontaneously jerks to the side out of habit, averting his sight to allow her some privacy. His tone is soft and amused. “Clean towels are in the hamper along the other side of the tub.” He signals blindly towards where he knows the basket is situated. “Call me back in when you need help with the shower knobs. And don’t—”
The immortal spots something streak across his peripheral vision, cocking his head a bit just in time to see her flower-print panties toss onto the tiled floor. He rolls his eyes playfully, scoffing to himself at the innocence of the article. It matches her persona perfectly.
He hears a splash crack through the air behind him, meaning that Y/N has submerged herself in the water and that it is now safe for him to turn around without threatening her decency. However, he doesn’t think she’d mind if he did and he finds himself wondering why he’d looked away in the first place. The answer comes to him simply: it was a residual mannerism from the era he was raised in. His default Victorian etiquette can be so fucking annoying sometimes.
He spins around on his socked heels, lean arms folding casually across his broad chest, naked tattoos glinting under the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. He slinks his head to the side, entertained at the view he finds. Y/N is sitting amidst the blanket of pink bubbles, covered up to her shoulders as she cups soap into her palms, blowing at it and watching the suds float across the air before popping. The adorable smile that breaks across her face makes Harry’s stomach flutter.
The vampire steps forward to catch her attention, leaning a hip against the edge of the tub and pursing his lips to hide an adoring grin. The corners of his mouth betray him as soon as Y/N looks up at him, hair slicked back with water and bubbles, matted to the sides of her neck and across her jaw as she beams up at him.
“Your place is literally an adult playground.” The human states wistfully, her arms floating across the surface of the bath as she drifts closer to him, creating more suds. “You’re gonna have to get me kicked out tomorrow ‘cause I’m not leaving on my own.”
Harry snorts, ducking down and wiping some soap off the tips of her eyelashes. “I don’t think security detail was part of the lease, so I might have to do it myself.”
“I can easily take you.” Y/N remarks jokingly, waving a hand dismissively. “Better make some space, I’m moving in next week.”
“I’d say I would start clearing out my storage room for you,” Harry leans forward, ghosting his lips over hers and thumbing over the curve of her chin, batting his lashes sultrily, “but I think we both know you’d end up in my bed either way. Best leave it as is.”
“Yeah,” Y/N momentarily glimpses down at his mouth, eyes glitzing with the slightest bit of hunger, “I think it's best if we just split the bed.”
“Oh, we’ll definitely split the bed— split it right down the middle.” Harry grips her jaw firmly and locks her into a wet, sloppy kiss for a few elongated heartbeats, tugging at her bottom lip and biting it jestingly before pulling back.
Y/N chases after him, craving more of his taste, but the boy draws back fully and pats at her cheek with smug finality. Her begrudging pout makes him release a boyish giggle. “Anyways, as I was saying before, my last rule: Don’t pee in the tub. Cleaning it is a bitch and that’s the last thing I want to deal with.”
The mortal laughs airily, nodding her head in confirmation that she understands. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”
“Thank you.” Her friend huffs, shoulders slumping dramatically in relief. Harry takes on a theatrical ominous edge, quirking his brows warningly. “Didn’t end well for the last person who did.”
“Is that so?” Y/N inquires daringly, lowering herself deeper into the water until it covers her chin. “What happened? Did you have to take on the role of executioner again?”
Harry thinks back to that instance, shaking his head in amusement at the memory. It had been Niall— anything that has to do with testing his patience almost always leads to Niall— and to make a long story short, the Irish bloke had ended up having to regrow an ear. But he can’t necessarily confess that supernatural event to Y/N, no matter how funny it is, so he just shrugs offhandedly and gives her a dark look full of faux mystery, voice adopting the same affect. “I’ve already said too much.”
The young woman casts her eyes up to the ceiling humorously. “Moron.”
“Watch it, love.” Harry tuts, narrowing his eyes at her pointedly in an attempt to suppress the smirk that is about to stem from his next comment. “I’m not the one with the degradation kink here.”
Y/N scrunches her face at him mockingly, trying to hide the way his quip had made her heart hiccup. She mimics his accent, sticking up her middle finger from beneath a mountain of rosy bubbles. “Piss off.”
“Gladly.” Harry bites back cheekily in an American accent. He leans down, retrieving his Nike sweater and her underwear from the rumpled pile on the ground, his intentions set on taking them across the hall to the laundry room with the rest of her clothes. That way, her stuff will be nice and clean for when she needs it again Sunday night. “Just call if you need me, yeah?”
Harry gets about three feet towards the door before Y/N’s soft voice halts him, piping up as gentle and timid as usual. “Wait…”
The vampire glances over his shoulder, eyebrows poised in question as he absentmindedly flips his jumper inside-out in anticipation for the wash.
Y/N swims across the extent of the jacuzzi until she’s right in front of where he’d stopped, resting her forearms along the rim and plopping her chin atop her folded hands. She gazes up at Harry through her lashes and he can see the manner in which she shifts her footing beneath the small waves, almost as preparing to stand up from the water. “Don’t go.”
Harry’s eyes go half-lidded in a flat expression as he hangs his sweatshirt over the inside of his elbow. “Didn’t you literally just tell me to piss off five seconds ago?”
“I changed my mind.”
“Well, that’s just too bad. You already hurt my feelings. No take-backs.”
“Idiot.”
“Try again.”
“What’s that one insult British people say? Oh, yeah! Knobhead.”
“You’re really not helping your case here.”
Y/N sighs in exasperation, using her palms to boost herself up until she’s standing fully inside the hot tub. Water cascades down her shoulders and out of her sopping hair, following the curves of her bare torso and trickling across her jaw. She teeters forward until her face is only a few inches away from Harry’s, lulling her head to the side expectantly with a certain slyness swirling around her pupils. She chews on her lower lip as she gives him a suggestive once-over. “How about now? Does this help my case?”
Harry keeps his eyes pinned to her own, refusing to submit to temptation. He knows exactly what she’s trying to do, and he doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of allowing it to work. Not yet, at least. He wants her to beg for it.
The creature twists towards her entirely, irises bright with the excitement of a new challenge. Even with the slight elevation the jacuzzi provides, Harry still towers over Y/N at least a good four inches. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough that she has to tilt her chin up to maintain direct eye contact. The tip of his cold nose brushes over hers, eyebrows shrugging tauntingly. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that, darling.”
Y/N reaches forward without breaking their stares, taking the clothes from Harry’s grasp and haphazardly chucking them onto the towel hamper. Now with his arms free, the immortal props his hands onto his hips, his biceps and shoulders flexing with the motions. He’s peacocking to try and intimate her, and in any other circumstance, it would probably work, but Y/N knows she has the upper-hand at the moment; she’s naked and wet and docile, and with the way Harry’s handsome features are hardening in determination, she can tell she’s whittling him down. All it would take is one well-coordinated touch here, a lingering stroke there, and maybe a gentle caress of her lips down the valley of his pectorals…
Y/N goes for something better. She reaches upwards to intertwine her fingers around the nape of Harry’s neck, tugging him closer until their chests meld together, the heat from the water radiating off her waxy skin and sinking into his freezing own. His breathing catches as soon as he feels her pert nipples press into his chest and even though he’s keeping his sight trained on her face, he can just barely see the curves of her breasts less than a foot below. Their close proximity is making them swell upwards, urging him to give in and have his way with her however he wants. And fuck, does he want to. But he’s not going to let her bait him that easily— who would he be if he allowed this human girl to toy with him in such a fashion? Harry never lets anyone puppet him— not anymore, not ever again— and especially not when it comes to sex, which is one of his most skilled domains. He certainly isn’t going to let her win.
Harry grabs Y/N’s wrists from where they are perched around his neck, giving her a hard look that lets her know who’s in charge of the situation. He brings her hands up before her face, flipping them over so she gets a proper view of the faint bruising that lines her flesh, leftover from the previous evening’s restraints. When he speaks, it’s low and throaty with a condescending undercurrent. “Remember what happened last time you acted like a brat?”
Images flash by the forefront of Y/N’s mind like a film on fast-forward, recalling the night to which Harry is referring. The young man had tied her to her headboard and fingered her until she was left a teary mess, refusing to let her orgasm each time she got close. Then, he had tossed the girl onto her tummy and rammed into her from behind until her aged bedframe had nearly splintered. If she focuses intently enough, she can still feel the satisfying ache he had left behind, which had haunted her for days afterwards.
The mortal swallows heavily, nodding her head a tad.
Harry raises an eyebrow with an awaiting air. “Remember what I said about using your words?”
Y/N bobs her head again quickly. After a moment, she realizes her repeated mistake, clearing her throat softly in order to fix it. “Yes.”
“Good.” The vampire drops her hands, coasting his palms up her neck to cup either sides of her jaw, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones almost tenderly. “Now let me ask you again. Do you remember what happened last time you acted like a little brat?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Do you want a repeat of that?”
“No, I—” Y/N pauses in hindsight, retracting her previous statement. “Well, actually…”
Harry’s ruby lips string into a coy smirk at her response, well acquainted with where her thoughts are leading. He presses their foreheads together, the damp stickiness of her warm flesh sending a shiver toppling down his spine. “Let me guess. You want a repeat of the part where I shoved your face into a pillow and fucked you until you squirted all over me?”
He can feel blood surge into her cheeks beneath his fingertips as a result of his vulgar words. “Yes, please.”
Harry gnaws along the inside of his cheek as he recalls that event. He can practically feel her gushing around his cock all over again, her walls tightening around him as her whole body trembled in his grasp, her shattered whimpers stinging his ears as he continued to slam into her until she’d completely drenched both of their thighs. His eyelids fall shut in dreamy recollection and an image skims by of his initial rings marked across her ass; it nearly sends his knees out from under him. “Fuck, that was so hot, wasn’t it?”
“So fucking hot.” Y/N sighs shakily, lashes fluttering as his warm breath washes across her tingling mouth. “Harry, I just...I just want to ride you so fucking bad right now.”
“Yeah? Is that what you want?” Harry touches over her quivering bottom lip, somehow managing to feel her pulse. It’s battering so hard, he could probably sense it through any spot on her body, at this point. “You want me to sit in there with you just so you can bounce on my cock, baby?”
“Please…” Y/N sounds as if she’s on the verge of crying, all of her desperate need translating into her wrecked voice. Her next phrase is something she doesn’t think she’s ever spoken before, but the intensity of the moment just feels so right to test it out, and Harry feels like the right person to test it with. After another heavy gulp and a lick at her dry lips, she chimes up once again, bashful and pliant. “Please, Daddy?”
The sound of a sharp inhale echoes off the marble and porcelain walls of the bathroom, stemming from Harry’s garbled throat. It feels like the temperature in the atmosphere has gone up twenty degrees, invisible flames lapping across the muscles of his taut back and across the tendons of his tight shoulders. His entire body seems to go into shock, lungs stuttering and stomach hollowing out. His lashes snap shut without a heartbeat to spare, webs of black veins materializing over the whites of his eyes as a reaction to Y/N’s brazen comment.
He has been indulging fantasies of her calling him that specific name for weeks now, but had never asked out of respect for her boundaries. He figured that if she had an affinity for it, it would eventually make its way out of her mouth during one of their sessions, and he had been willing to be patient enough to wait. It had paid off, it seems.
Harry releases his grip on the girl’s face, reaching down to messily shove his black briefs down his clammy thighs, eyes flickering open now that he has forced some control into his demeanor. He sets his intent on her expression, the jade of his irises bleeding lust as he catches her gawking at him. Y/N gazes down at where he’s occupied, her lips parting slightly with starved awe as his underwear falls away to pool at his feet, revealing the part of him she has grown so addicted to in the last month. It looks so pretty, with a neatly trimmed pubic area, thick girth, and pleasurable length. She never knew cocks could be appealing, considering she always found their appearance so odd and irrelevant. That is, until Harry. It appears she thought a lot of sexual things irrelevant until Harry.
He kicks away his clothes, nudging at her boiling cheeks with his nose to garner attention, his tone low and inexplicably strained. “Say it again.”
Y/N’s fingers curl into loose fists against his heaving chest as she gathers her bearings, shuddering with a difficult exhale. She says it a bit louder this time, but still inherently weak, almost as if she’s scared their shadows might overhear. “Please, Daddy?”
Harry’s brows furrow with puncurting desire, a broken groan stirring deep in his lungs. “God, that sounds so good coming from your mouth. Been wanting to hear you say it for ages now.”
“Really?”
He nods fervently, nose bumping hers with every movement and he takes this chance to peek down at her naked figure, swallowing thickly at how incredible her breasts look flushed to his pecs. “Think about it constantly. Always wondered what it would take to get it out of you.”
“I wish you’d just told me.” The human mumbles, tracing his cupid’s bow with the crest of her own. “I’ve been wanting to say it for a while now.”
Harry chuckles lightly, humming in amusement as he snakes a strong arm around the dip of her spine, drawing her closer as much as possible. He just wants to feel every inch of her wet, velvety skin. “Well, now you can say it all you want. Over and over and over, while I make your knees shake and your back arch.”
Y/N sputters out a bundle of feathery giggles, looping her arms around his neck and carding her fingers into his shiny curls, pulling his lips down to meet hers in a restless kiss full of quiet whines and snippets of laughter. She talks into his mouth, starting to pant as the pace becomes more passionate, full of eager tongues and nipping teeth. “Now will you please get in and let me fuck you?”
Harry mounts one knee onto the edge of the hot tub, his free hand jutting down against the marble for reinforcement as the other keeps her trapped against his body. “Yeah...Yeah, I think I will.”
He crawls into the heated water, submerging up to his waist due to his height. Once he’s balanced himself within the pool, the palm pressed to the brim slips away, replacing the cold stone with the simmering skin of Y/N’s jaw once again. He tangles his fingers into her hair as he nurses her face to the side, deepening their prolonged kiss, and the whimper she pours into his mouth makes every cell in his body throb with longing. Y/N’s hands ride down his lean stomach and over his pelvic bones, fingers twitching the closer she gets to his cock. She stops right before she reaches his base, wracked with the slightest bit of shy hesitation.
“Go ahead, doll.” Harry murmurs softly, hips bucking forward once against the pads of her digits. “I want you to touch me.”
Y/N’s palm disappears below the mounds of bubbles, cupping over his cock and giving it a rough grope. Harry gasps brokenly against her lips at the sensation, the corners of his mouth ticking upwards into a blissful simper when her breathing throttles just a smidge. Y/N gradually begins to work him below the gentle waves of the water, eyes rolling back when she feels him harden in her hold. She’ll never get used to how erotic it is having Harry shatter under her influence.
“I think it's funny,” she begins, voice delicate and humorous, contradicting the insistent actions she’s partaking below, “how you were threatening me with orgasm denial two minutes ago and now you’re being all nice.”
The vampire thrusts slightly against her strokes, tiny noises escaping his taut throat as a familiar boiling begins to simmer in his veins. His tone is detached and pinched with the effort of maintaining composure. “S’hardly a fair point, considering you caught me off guard with that pet name.”
“Is that so?” The girl inquires playfully, giving the tip of his cock a hard squeeze and scoffing against his mouth when he releases a tight grunt.
“Mm. You always…” Harry draws back from her intoxicating mouth, looking down at her over the crests of his tinted cheekbones to admire the faint imprint of his teeth along her swollen lips. His mind feels like it’s been pumped with syrup, thoughts swishing around lazily, his emotions still somewhat exposed from the mishap that had occurred during their breakfast serenade. It had been over two hours ago, but the wound was still fresh in his subconscious, causing small pinpricks of anxiety to stain his otherwise carefree personality. He feels as if his chest had been cut open with a scalpel, his insides had been rearranged out of order, and the gash had been resewn brutishly; he feels disarrayed and defiled. And because of some simple human girl who’s as fragile and insipidly transparent as glass.
The immortal’s voice comes out as a whisper, carrying the weight of his confused, raw state. “You always catch me off guard.”
Y/N blinks up at him innocently, gnawing on her bottom lip at his sweet compliment, her heart somersaulting within her ribcage. “You catch me off guard, too. Always keep me on my toes, which is something I was never really used to.”
“Do you...” Harry forces down the lump in his throat, allowing himself to be vulnerable for the sake of seeking an answer. Though their problems are vastly different— she’s referring to her small-town, conservative mentality, whereas he’s shouldering two hundred years worth of emotional trauma— he’s more than happy to absorb any advice she could possibly offer. He needs to know how to shut this off; he hates feeling so unsure of himself. It’s like he’s wading through a forest blindfolded, disoriented and uncalibrated with no sense of direction or purpose. He hasn’t felt this helpless since… “Do you hate it?”
The mortal’s eyes fall shut, lashes dusting the apples of her cheeks in a way that Harry deems almost ethereal. She shakes her head lightly in his grasp, a hazy smile adorning her face. “Do I hate that you take me out of my comfort zone? I don’t think I do, actually. I like it. I like that every moment we spend together is something new. I was so used to following the status quo and retracing other’s steps, I never noticed how boring it all was. But you’re never boring. You make everything fun and adventurous, and it’s just so...”
Y/N laughs a tad, trying to come up with a word she can’t quite place, too distracted in how her friend’s thumbs are caressing her jaw. The hand she has below the water has stopped its motions all together, her focus placed solely on the young man’s beautiful features. The copper specks in his eyes glitter in the white light of the bathroom, looking like polished amber gems. “Uhm...It’s...It’s so—”
“Scary...but exhilarating.” Harry finishes her sentence, a quivering sigh coaxing out of his tight chest. He feels like he’s going to vomit.
Y/N bobs her head in agreement, hands drifting to wrap around his dainty wrists, giving them a soft squeeze as if to reassure herself that he’s real. “Yeah, that’s it. It’s...exciting, kind of.”
The creature swallows heavily and releases her face, peeling his eyes away from Y/N’s for fear of letting her see him so defenseless, brows creasing in burning unsettlement. Instead, he lends his attention to outlining the speckling of white strewn into the dark marble of the bathroom wall, using that distraction to calm the raging in his belly. Out of the edge of his vision, he can see Y/N’s face fall, the grip she has on his wrists loosening. A spike of pain shoots through his unbeating heart— similar to what he had endured earlier— at the sadness behind her gesture, but he stifles it with stubborn spite. This isn’t him. It hasn’t been for decades now, and he’d grown to like it as so. In his experience, attachment leads to suffering, and suffering leads to misery. And with all of the centuries he has ahead of him, misery is the last companion he needs.
Harry clears his throat emptily, slashing through the tension that had suspended in the air between them. He glimpses down at her, undoing the knot between his eyebrows and putting as much playful ease into his irises as he can muster, urging the corners of his lips into his signature smirk. “I guess we just excite each other, then. Though that’s become pretty obvious by now, I think.”
Y/N purses her mouth to hide the immature grin his innuendo is attempting to weed out, all awkwardness dissipating from her aura. “I guess we do.”
The monster ducks down to flirt his lips over the human’s, arms tying around her lower back and hiking her upwards. Y/N yelps in surprise, instinctively clamping her legs around his waist and giggling as he lugs her from side to side jokingly, pretending he’s about to drop her into the pool. “Why don’t we go back to exciting one another, hm?”
Y/N’s nose rubs across the bridge of Harry’s and she gasps lightly when she feels the head of his cock prod at her entrance, dipping in a bit to tease her, spreading her open just enough to wheedle a soft hiss. She shivers in his arms despite the heat wafting up from the warm water, a very different type of warmth pouring into the area between her legs. The girl clings to the sides of the English boy’s neck, spinning a damp curl around her forefinger— he’d gotten his hair wet when he’d splashed into the jacuzzi, and the manner in which his ringlets are gluing across his flexing neck and sharp jaw is doing her in.
She gives a small nod, eyes flickering down to his tempting lips and back up at his devious gaze. “Yeah, alright.”
In Harry’s expert opinion, it’s safe to say they definitely excite each other. It’s pretty evident in the way their bodies mold perfectly, satisfying their own desires while simultaneously fulfilling the other’s. The vampire ends up sitting on top of the ledge that circles the inside wall of the pool, his head hanging over the edge with his mouth parted in an open grin, filthy moans and needy whines pouring from his tongue freely as Y/N rocks onto his slick cock. The girl balances herself on her knees, backside crashing down against his thighs in harsh slams full of reckless urgency— she needs this more than she’d ever care to admit. Her nails dig into Harry’s strong shoulders for stability, head thrown back in sheer bliss as her chest bounces with every thrust, the trench of her tummy rippling with contented heat. He just makes her feel so fucking full.
“God, y-you’re so big.” Y/N mewls, swinging her hips in small circles that draw an array of fractured sounds of pleasure from Harry’s taut throat. “You stretch me out so fucking good, Har.”
Harry’s hands tighten into fists against the glossy plastic of the jacuzzi, arms slung casually over the sides of the tub in a relaxed posture. He doesn’t want to bother with taking control at this particular moment; he’s too busy reveling in the ecstasy Y/N is pounding into his system. He jolts with every rough dip of her hips, the corners of his raw lips winking his dimples awake as he looks up at her through barely-cracked eyes, the weight of his mounting orgasm heavy on his lashes. “Love that cock, don’t you? Can tell by the way you always kiss it right before you take it down your throat.”
Y/N grapples onto her friend's neck blindly, one palm grasping the center of his jugular as the other cradles his defined jaw, her thumb smearing across his lips as a result of her choppy movements. Harry cranes his head forward a bit to get a better view, pressing a gentle kiss to the pad of her finger as an appreciative thrum rumbles against the hand she has covering his Adam’s Apple. “You look so beautiful when you fuck me all desperate like that.”
Y/N whimpers as she swivels against his lap eagerly, driving herself towards a climax that she knows will leave her utterly ruined. Harry glances down to where their centers meet below the water, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he peers through the violently sloshing waves and frothy suds, watching Y/N glide over him easily now that she’d gotten used to his size. He leans forward, slowly planting a trail of suckling kisses up the center of his friend’s tummy and over the valley of her chest, looking upwards through his long lashes and smiling lewdly into her flesh every time her walls squeeze at the action. She’s so snug around him, he’s convinced no one could ever fit him this well.
His words come out as a raspy growl. “You’re such a tight little thing. Never get tired of that perfect cunt. S’like you were made to take me this deep.”
Y/N collapses forward, her grip shooting up to trade his face with his drenched curls. She sponges her mouth messily over his, gasping onto his tongue as the motions of the water batter against her sensitive clit. Her brows cinch with hunger, tone pleading. “Touch me. Please? Want— Want your hands on me while I ride you.”
Harry shakes his head tauntingly, licking across her top lip and teething at the crescent above it. “I don’t think so, angel. I like seeing you do all the work, for once. You look so good using me to get yourself off.”
The girl fists at his hair almost cruelly, her sanity gradually slipping. “But I...I like it when you use me, too.”
“Trust me, I’m well aware.” The vampire muses arrogantly, spreading his meaty thighs wider so that her strokes have a more profound impact. His position works as intended, seen in how Y/N slows for a second when she sinks down to the hilt, a breathy, “Fuck, that’s so deep.” scraping past the cracks of her gritted teeth.
Harry bucks upward symbolically, signaling for her to regain her rhythm; one look at his dominantly smug expression has her abiding instantly. He lays his head against his bare shoulder, studying every clench of her belly and every heave of her breasts, etching this picture into his extensive list of memories. His voice flows out as thick and silky as molasses. “I just can’t get enough of watching you make yourself cum around my cock.”
“I j-just want you to fuck me.” Y/N is nearly sobbing, her fingertips carving into his scalp as she kisses over his colored cheeks and tinged nose, trying to swindle him into giving her what she wants. “I’ll do anything you want. Promise.”
“Always so willing, aren’t you?” Harry chuckles darkly, groaning lightly when she suddenly tenses around his length. He can feel his nails breaking the skin of his palms as his fists contract. “You want me to make you scream, is that it? Want Daddy to pound you until you can’t stand anymore?”
Hearing him refer to himself that way sends electricity coursing down her spine. “Want it so bad.”
The creature reaches up with his index finger and brushes a sopping strand of hair out of Y/N’s face, tucking it behind her ear and tracing down her cheekbone admiringly. After a few seconds of thought, he appraises her with a decision, licking across his top teeth and pressing his tongue along the inside of his cheek teasingly. “Let’s make a deal, then. How about you get yourself right on the edge for me, and then I’ll flip you around and finish you off. Sound fair?”
Y/N doesn’t need to be told twice. She regains her previous stride with more fervor and speed, hellbent on pushing herself to the seam of climax so she can let Harry take the reins. The young man watches her with sinful intent tainting the emerald of his irises, the golden smudges around his pupils glinting blood red for a single heartbeat. He decides he’ll lend his expertise just once, extending his arm and fiddling with the settings on the control panel of the hot tub, preparing a surprise he knows his guest will thoroughly enjoy.
When the jets suddenly rumble to life, Y/N’s jumps in shock, the loud sound startling her clouded brain. But then two concentrated streams of water hit her right between her legs and she nearly faints as newfound bliss erupts through every fiber of her being. The insistent spray toys with her clit in a fashion that is indescribable, revving her closer to release as the overwhelming sensation pairs with the rapture Harry’s cock is hammering into her. She won’t last long, and he knows it.
The monster eyes her reaction attentively, his forefinger lulling upwards across the water-proof screen of the controls, raising the intensity of the jets. The fragmented moan that betrays the human goes right to his core. He then slides his finger back down, reducing the powerful force to softer bursts. Y/N whines in protest against his mouth, begging him to set it higher like before. And Harry does, giving her exactly what she craves with one easy swoop. Y/N’s forehead falls against his jaw, her shallow breaths puffing down his collarbones and heating his icy skin.
“Shit, that’s so—so— fuck!”
Harry continues to play with the settings, teasing her with waves of strong geysers and gentle trickles. Soon enough, he’s perched behind her, her back sticky against his wet chest as she holds herself up on her knees against the marble seat, hands clamped around the metal railing that runs the circumference of the pool. The pole helps her brace his unforgiving pace, her entire body jerking forward with every ram of his hips as small hiccups of pleasure float across the fogged air of the bathroom. Harry takes the shell of her ear between his teeth, biting down with no remorse as Y/N pushes back to meet his adamant thrusts, his coral-lacquered digits sifting between her own around the polished metal. She gets a bleary glimpse of the cross tattoo inked onto his hand as she can’t help but snort softly at the irony.
“Is something funny, love?” Harry’s deep baritone causes chills to wring down her arms.
“Your cross tattoo,” Y/N chokes out, a soft grunt interrupting her sentence as the head of the boy’s prick nudges the pit of her abdomen, “it’s just so ironic.”
It is ironic. Harry had gotten it for that sole purpose— to mock the fact that he was deceased. He didn’t get to have a tombstone, so this is the next best thing: a symbolic one, of sorts, sketched into his skin for the rest of his undead life. A bit morbid, but he quite fancies dark humor, given what he is.
However, he knows Y/N finds it ironic for much different, much unholier reasons.
“You wanna know what’s really ironic?” Harry quips, bottoming out harshly and cooing into the back of her neck when the mortal’s shoulders give a spasm in response. His tone is a mocking whisper. “That such an innocent-looking thing like you loves the idea of being my shameless little whore.”
Y/N’s cheeks boil at his explicit comment, a delicate whimper striking her vocal chords. One of Harry’s hands leaves its post on top of hers, tangling into her wet locks and giving her hair a ruthless yank. He guides her head into the nook between his shoulder and neck, spitting his next words out against the thundering pulse in her temple.
“You’re nothing but Daddy’s little filthy fucking slut. Isn’t that right, baby?”
Y/N nods frantically in his authoritative grasp, struggling to swallow due to the combination of his unyielding tempo and erotic statements.
Harry twists her hair around his knuckles, drawing a broken mewl from her raw lips as his teeth skim along the top of her cheekbone. “Words. Now.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Say it.”
“I’m...I’m your filthy little slut.”
Harry scoffs in entertained disbelief at how willing she is to submit to him, pecking a kiss to the corner of her eye and tasting a salty tear across his tongue. He redirects her head forward, grinning into the side of her scalp. “You should see the way you smile when you say it.”
Y/N can’t help it. It just feels so right with him— she feels oddly safe, knowing that what they share is something neither of them will ever give to anyone else. Their arrangement is one of a kind; they fit each other so flawlessly, nobody could ever possibly come close. And she doesn’t want anyone to try— doesn’t want anyone attempting to replace him. Harry just fills the gap perfectly, and she wouldn’t dream of letting another man do what he does to her. Not when she has Harry near, willing to mumble as many graphic promises into her ear as she wants, all while he fucks a sweltering throb into the area between her thighs.
The human girl finds herself wishing this could last an eternity. Little does she know that if it wasn’t for her mortal ignorance and Harry’s better judgement, it very well could.
///
Later in the day, Harry vaguely recalls how the week prior he had made a passing joke to Y/N about how her sexual drive matches that of a rabbit. What happens in the evening makes him stand by that comment.
They order in Chinese for dinner, and Y/N insists on eating out on the balcony, wanting to get a perfect view of the sun setting over the city skyline. She has never experienced the phenomenon from such a pristine view.
Harry allows it, but only after parenting her into putting on a jacket to avoid catching a cold, sending her back into the condo in search of one as he sets out their meal atop the multicolored glass table outside. Humans are so sensitive, and the last thing he needs is his booty call nearly dying from a case of the sniffles.
She comes back out clad in his patchwork cardigan, wrapping it around her body snugly as she sits with her legs crossed on the patio chair, fitting her box of takeout into the hole created by her thighs. The fluffy knitwork had been the first coat she had found hanging in his humongous closet, and she’d thrown it on without a second thought, too caught up in the excitement of getting to see such a picturesque sight in real life. It’s warm and smells of Harry’s vanilla tobacco cologne, along with hints of other scents, like his chamomile and mandarin shampoo and spiced deodorant. She’d been more than happy to inhabit it.
Harry isn’t sure why, but seeing her sitting across from him on his balcony in a pair of his maroon plaid Calvin Klein boxers, his Keith Harrington Safe Sex t-shirt, and blanketed within his oversized rainbow cardigan, all while her hair falls across her face and tickles her jaw… It makes a fond smile buckle his cheeks, though he manages to tame it quickly.
They chat casually as they eat, sharing silly stories and experiences as they pick at their stir-fry, taking periodic sips of the cranberry juice Harry keeps stocked in his fridge. He doesn’t know the science behind it— though he highly doubts there’s any valid scientific explanation behind the magic that runs through his supernatural veins— but he’s come to find that cranberries help curb his cravings. It’s why he always has a liter on hand.
Y/N informs Harry on how her work week had gone, and about how one of her friends back home had gotten engaged recently. She says it all seems so surreal and that she doubts the girl will actually go through with it, which makes the monster burst into laughter, much to her confusion. Harry thinks that this is probably the first time he’s ever seen Y/N be so blatantly pessimistic; it’s strangely comical. Just hearing her opinion on the situation is enough to send anyone into a cackle fit, especially when she says it with such a straight face. “Yeah, I just don’t think she’ll do it. She says she loves him, but she always used to complain about his foot fetish, and I’m pretty sure she’d go insane if she had to put up with that for the rest of her life.”
Harry wards off another bundle of giggles, pursing his twitching lips and bobbing his head once in understanding, using his chopsticks to pop a piece of fried duck into his mouth. “That’s a valid reason to abandon anyone at the altar, if I’ve ever seen one.”
“I know, right? She told me he likes sucking whipped cream off her toes and, like, not to kinkshame, because I obviously have my own weird shit going on—”
“Yeah, I can attest to that.” Harry shrugs his eyebrows suggestively, picking a small chunk of broccoli off his utensil and smirking as he chews slowly. “Decently weird, actually.”
Y/N gifts him a deadpan expression, shoving a piece of veggie dumpling into her mouth and choosing to ignore his dig. “Anyways, I feel like that one is just on a whole other level. Like...what the fuck?”
Harry shares an anecdote about his own friends, as well, feeling that if he doesn’t open up at least a smidge, she'll start becoming suspicious. He recounts the time when he and Mitch had snuck into a Fleetwood Mac concert and met Stevie Nicks, though he’s careful enough not to tell her the date the event had occurred. He just lets her deduce it was one of their more recent tours, when in reality, it had been back in the eighties. The other detail Harry leaves off is the fact that he had tried to seduce Stevie, emphasis being on “tried.” It hadn’t stuck, unfortunately, and what had made the experience even more mortifying is that his idol had taken an interest in Mitch instead. Harry’s ego has yet to recover from that blow; first, because Mitch had the sheer gall to reject the celebrity on the grounds that he wasn’t looking to get involved in any public scandals, and secondly because his best friend refuses to ever let him live it down. “Hey, remember when we met Stevie Nicks and she wanted to fuck me instead of you? Good times, man.”
When the sun finally begins to dip over the horizon, their conversation dies off, replaced by the serene sounds of distant traffic and a light wind picking up as the temperature begins to drop for the night. Y/N stares at the sky in childish wonder as the bright blue starts to darken, streaking with mellow oranges, pastel purples, and buttery yellows, the colors painting across the clouds and giving the bustling city a timeless quality that can only be truly appreciated firsthand. A small, dreamy smile spreads across Y/N’s lips as the gorgeous canvas reflects off the glossy surface of her irises, her legs drawn up to her chest with her arms hugging her knees. She gazes wistfully over the place she has now grown to call home, taking in all it has to offer for the first time in two months, feeling oddly at ease despite the fact that she usually feels lonely wandering its streets.
The mixture of drunken hues casts a hazy glow across her skin and hair, dim stars beginning to twinkle in space as the moon makes its debut. Y/N delights herself with watching the scene unfold, surveying the endless stretch of sky and soaking in its natural beauty. And as Y/N stares across Los Angeles during one of its most breath-taking moments, Harry finds himself staring at her instead.
Once darkness has soaked across the skyscrapers and roads of California for the night, Y/N and Harry turn in, as well. They end up splayed across Harry’s leather couch, entertaining a new episode of Sugar Rush on the ninety-inch flat screen mounted on his glass wall; it’s simply in order to take up the last couple of hours left before bed. By some inexplicable miracle, the vampire had managed to actually fall asleep last night after he and his visitor had finished their regularly scheduled activities. He doubts he’ll be that lucky tonight, but he has no choice but to play the part for the sake of keeping up appearances.
Maybe if the universe is feeling exceptionally generous, the human will fall asleep while they’re watching TV and Harry can just carry her up to his room without having to put on an act. It’s a favorable alternative to having to fake sleep until she gives into fatigue; lying awake with his eyes closed for an hour would make him feel as stupid as Niall’s golfing addiction.
However, it appears that for the time being, Y/N has other plans to bring forward some tried and true exhaustion.
There’s nothing particularly sexual about the fashion in which their bodies are pressed together at the moment, given that it’s a pretty innocent snuggling position. Harry is slumped against the backrest of the sofa with his feet propped on his coffee table, comfy in a pair of black jogging shorts and a vintage Rolling Stones tee. Y/N is nestled into his torso beside him, her head burrowed into his chest with his arm slung nonchalantly across her shoulders and down her back, legs intertwined with his. She had done it out of instinct and Harry doesn’t really have an issue with the gesture; she’s warm and soft and the soothing action of her socked foot running up and down his calf helps him unwind from the day’s events. He likes this, he decides. She smells like him— with her usual scent of honey and lavender permeating through— and she’s decked out in his clothes, aimlessly doodling figures onto his tummy as they enjoy the baking show in comfortable silence. It’s strangely mellow.
Y/N is the one who instigates, as usual. Humans are so horny, it’s ridiculous. But he benefits from this specific mortal’s libido, so he’s not complaining.
It starts with her drifting upwards from where she’d been tracing over his butterfly tattoo, her warm fingers stroking over the prominent structure of his clavicle, her eyes flickering up to gauge his reaction. Harry doesn’t move an inch, face maintaining a curtain of calm indifference. He figures she’s just extra touchy, as she normally is. Then the pads of her digits skim across the side of his throat and an impulsive flare of panic pricks the back of his skull, but it quickly dissolves, as it tends to do now around her. She’s the only person in the last two centuries who has managed to touch him there without inciting a rampage.
Y/N coasts across the nape of his neck, twirling a baby curl around her forefinger distractedly, giving it a small tug in the manner she knows he likes. Harry’s body tightens for a split second and she bites into her lower lip to muffle a mischievous grin. She stretches up, dusting a lingering peck to the curve right behind his ear, running her nose across the shell tenderly. The vampire shifts slightly in his seat, the feathery sensation beginning to weigh at the pit of his stomach. She’s teasing him, and it’s working.
The mortal flushes her puckered mouth fully to the side of his jugular, rubbing the ridges of her skin over one of the veins chiseling into existence, right over the area where a heartbeat used to lie. Harry’s hand balls into a fist against the dip of her spine, itching to grip onto something to keep his cool. Preferably, her throat.
When Y/N finally speaks, the hot breath of her words makes his cock twitch against his thigh. “Wanna kiss a bit?”
Harry cranes his head to look at her, eyebrows jumping up in amusement. “You wanna make-out? What are we, fourteen?”
The girl gives him an impassive pout and glances indicatively towards the armrest of the couch, where they had sat the evening prior while admiring his art wall. “You didn’t have a problem with it last night.”
Harry presses his lips together into a playful simper. She makes a valid point. “Well, I was horny last night. Wasn’t in my right mind.”
Y/N rolls her eyes at his juvenile answer.
“And you’re not now?” She prods softly, her gaze slinking down to his spread thighs, almost as if to check if he’s hard. Harry snorts as her action and she bats her lashes up at him with fake innocence, muscling down the sly smirk threatening to emerge across her face.
“Not really, but maybe I could be…” The creature glimpses at her colored mouth for a heartbeat, reaching a hand up and pushing his air-dried ringlets back from his forehead, lips twitching coyly. “Persuaded.”
Y/N leans forward, buttoning their mouths for a fleeting moment. She pulls back a tad, ghosting the crescent of her top lip over his to try and compel him. “Please?”
“Mm,” Harry licks at the corner of his mouth, eyes half-lidded tauntingly, “I don’t think that was enough. Show some team spirit, will you?”
The girl gifts him another kiss, this one longer and more intense, a palm making its way to cup his jaw. “Please, H?”
He’s begun to pant lightly, hand flattening across the small of her back as if to guide her somewhere. He blinks down at her smugly, gnawing into his cheek. “You’re not quite there. Maybe a little more.”
It turns out one more kiss is enough to convince his metaphorical meter. Y/N ends up perched in his lap, both of his large hands groping at her ass as she clutches the back of his neck, their lips sewn together in a filthy kiss full of gentle whines and impatient tongues. It’s going pretty great, and Harry thinks that Y/N is probably one of the most fun people he’s ever had the pleasure of kissing. Her mouth is as sweet as the sugary scent she always dotes, she ebbs and flows to his movements seamlessly, and the enthusiasm she carries makes every nerve in his body fizzle. The noises she makes are incredibly satisfying, as well. All her needy mewls and delicate whimpers string right down to his groin.
After a few minutes of dry humping and jesting bites placed on overzealous lips, Harry boosts himself up from his relaxed position, feet knocking off the coffee table as an arm snakes around her hips. He sits forward, extending his free hand and waving it around blindly, too occupied to willingly break their embrace. He refuses to pull away, especially when she’s gluing such dirty moans to the roof of his mouth. His palm swings across the air stubbornly until it finally slaps down against the marble surface he’d been searching for, his grip tightening around its rim for confirmation. He proceeds to scoot the counter forward, intent on laying Y/N out on top so he can get on his knees against his furry carpet, get his boxers down her velvety legs, and get his head bobbing between her quivering thighs.
Harry’s plan is about to pan out ideally until a high-pitched shriek cuts through the tense ambiance of the room.
Y/N cracks their kiss, gasping and heaving as her head whizzes from side to side, looking for the origin of the annoying trill that had interrupted their playtime. “What—What is that?”
The vampire glances over his back towards where the ruckus is stemming, the insistent chime grating his heightened ears. He spots the culprit immediately, releasing an irritated groan as a result: his phone.
From his spot on the edge of the couch, Mitch’s contact picture blazes across the screen. Harry loves that photo of his best friend— the way his emotionless expression and skinny middle finger are directed towards the camera makes it a wonderful shot— but he really wishes he didn’t have to see it right now. He has other more pressing matters. Literal pressing matters, if the tent in his mesh shorts is any indication.
“Just ignore it.” Harry murmurs, turning back to slam their lips together once again. Y/N obliges without a second thought, happily re-engaging her previous activity of smudging her cupid’s bow across her friend’s as he stretches her out across the table
Ignoring it works the first time. And the second. But by the third call, Harry has no choice but to break away with an exasperated grunt, his brittle patience forcing him to handle the blaring ringtone.
He slides his thumb across the screen roughly, bringing it to his ear as he slumps back into the couch cushions, holding up a finger towards Y/N apologetically and mouthing a quick, “It’ll be just a second.”
His guest nods in understanding, letting her head fall back against the cold marble and distracting herself by counting all of the lightbulbs situated at the peaks of the chandeliers above.
Harry turns his focus to the person on the other end of the phone line, voice snipped with aggravated anger. “What?!”
“Whoa, okay… That’s no way to talk to the elderly. Take it down a notch, Grumpy. Didn’t Snow White teach you any manners?”
The monster takes a deep breath to keep his rage in check, gritting out his words through bared teeth. “I’m fucking busy right now. What do you want?”
“Oh, well, I’m so sorry to be a bother, My Lord. I just wanted to check up on you and make sure you have all your stuff packed for tomorrow. Y’know, like the good friend I am.”
Harry blinks blankly, all indignation flooding out of his system, replaced by utter confusion. “You wanted to check if I’m...? For what? Why would I need to pack?”
There’s a pause on Mitch’s end, as if the man is waiting for Harry to come to the conclusion himself, static filling the speaker. When it’s obvious the younger vampire is clueless, his best friend elaborates slowly. “For the trip. The Vegas trip. The one we take every year around the same time. The one that we all agreed we’d roadtrip in your car tomorrow.”
Harry’s eyes widen in realization, his entire face paling. Fuck.
“The trip.” He mumbles, the fingers of his free hand coming up to rub at his temples worriedly as his mistake dawns on him. “God, I completely forgot about it.”
“You can’t be serious.” Mitch deadpans, a long sigh following his comment. “Harry, you’re the one that booked the hotel this time. How could you possibly forget?”
“I…” Harry glances over at Y/N as guilt weighs into his demeanor. The girl meets his gaze, smiling sweetly and waving, completely unaware of the horrific ordeal he’s gotten himself into by inviting her over. “I got caught up with something.”
A humorless snort crackles through the stereo of his phone, Mitch’s voice tinged with irked disbelief. “Yeah, that’s what you’ve been saying for the last four weeks now every time you bail on us. I just figured you’d get your head out of your ass for this one, but I suppose I spoke too soon.”
Harry drags his palm down his face, gripping his chin in thought. “I’m sorry. Genuinely. I didn’t mean to let it slip, I’ve just been so occupied during the last couple of weekends that—”
“That you forgot about our yearly trip. How nice. Just perfect.”
“Mitch, I know I fucked up, alright? But what if—”
The immortal’s solution gets cut short when out of his peripheral vision, he sees Y/N climb off the coffee table and onto the carpet below. Harry’s words lodge in his throat as he watches the girl crawl on all fours across the ground towards him, a cheeky smile ticking the corners of her lips as her irises glimmer schemingly. Shit.
“‘What if’ what?”
“What if...Uhm…” Harry finds himself struggling to keep his end of the conversation going, the reason being that Y/N has now reached the edge of the sofa where he resides. She sits back onto her heels, walking her fingers teasingly across his knees and grasping them with her palms, parting them open widely. “I…”
“For fuck’s sake, H, what are you trying to say?” Mitch snaps; even through the distance, he can feel its bite.
Y/N nuzzles herself between Harry’s opened legs, a hand riding up one of his thick thigh as she sponges wet kisses to his kneecap, grinning into his skin when her fingers duck under the material of his shorts. His cadence comes out strained with the effort of keeping up an unfazed front. “What if I— what if we switch the reservations?”
“How do you mean?”
The human’s fingers travel up the length of his inner thigh, sneaking below his cotton briefs and giving the tip of his semi-hard cock a gentle caress. Harry writhes in his seat, watching with bated breath as Y/N draws her forearm back out from beneath his clothes, her middle finger covered in a bead of precum— a result of all the grinding they’d done while kissing. She locks eyes with him and pushes the digit past her swollen lips, sucking off the small droplet while her lashes flutter in pleasure. She moans softly, his familiar saltiness always so welcomed. Her next whisper is sultry and needy. “You taste so fucking good.”
Harry swallows down a groan and his voice suffers the consequences, coming out shaky and high. “Like...Like what if we switch out the n-names. I could call the hotel and put the rooms under your info instead.”
Mitch is quiet for a second, mulling over his friend’s offer. The instance is long enough for Harry to reach forward and snatch Y/N’s wrist, giving it a dominant squeeze as a scolding grimace dips the ends of his lips and furrows his brows. He mouths his words slowly with an ominous hue, making sure she interprets the message. “That’s enough.”
Y/N twists herself free of his hold, eyes gleaming in challenge. She talks softly as to not be heard through the phone, but she might as well be screaming thanks to Harry’s supernatural hearing abilities. “I don’t think so.”
“Are you really not going, then?”
The gentle tone of Mitch’s question snaps Harry back into reality. He feels bad for flaking on his crew, but he doesn’t really have a choice at this point. Y/N is already here per his request, and kicking her out would be extremely dickish, even by his standards. “I’m booked the rest of the weekend, mate. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
Y/N proceeds to grab onto the elastic band of Harry’s shorts, pulling the front down to expose the clothed bulge that lies beneath. A soiled patch has formed over the material of his underwear, and he can see her irises twinkle in satisfaction, which causes the faint burning in his veins to intensify. The girl palms him through the fabric, preening at the low, tight grunt that escapes Harry’s flexing throat. A shiver pin-balls down his spine and he tries to grab at her forearm to wrench it away from between his legs, but Y/N is determined to work him into a mess, simply groping him more intently and giggling lightly when his hips thrash in response.
“Alright, I guess that settles it. I’ll just tell the group we’re taking Niall’s car instead, and that Adam and I will take turns driving. Just get the lodging handled, will you?”
“‘Course, I got it, don’t worry.” Harry chokes out, reaching a hand towards Y/N’s hair in a desperate attempt to get a hold of her, but she ducks to evade him. She tugs down his final layer of protection, her mouth immediately finding its way to his large cock and giving it one long lap from base to tip, staring up at him mockingly from beneath heavy lashes. She grasps it in both of her palms, gifting it a few quick pumps and spitting over the head sloppily, rubbing the slit across her bottom lip as she quirks her brows at him in a dare.
The vampire fails to ward off the fracture in his composure this time. “Christ, you’re such a fucking sl—”
He stops himself before he finishes the graphic statement, remembering that everything he says is being directly broadcast to someone else on the other end of his phone. Someone who’s oblivious to the filth currently taking place on Harry’s side of the call. “I’m on it, yeah? I’ll talk to you later.”
“Wait.”
Harry is at the verge of tearing his hair out, his tone teetering at the cusp of sanity. “Yeah?”
“Would you mind telling me why you’re not going? I feel like everyone at least deserves an explanation, especially since you’re dipping on the plans literally the day before.”
The young man quickly clears his throat, forcing himself to keep control as he watches the mortal stick her entire tongue out to run his cock up and down its expanse. “I’ll—I’ll explain when you come back.”
The textured surface sends zaps of lightning surging through every crevice of Harry’s body, but he somehow enables restraint, as weak as it may be. He silently warns Y/N once again about her actions, carding his fingers into her hair and digging the pads into her scalp. “Stop.”
“Also, why are you breathing so hard? What are you even up to right now?”
The human ignores his command, blowing over the leaking hole of his prick and giving it a playful kiss.
“I’m— fuck— I’m...I’m on the treadmill.”
Mitch goes quiet for a heartbeat. “You don’t have a treadmill.”
Y/N tosses her hair over her shoulder, leaning down to rest her cheek along Harry’s inner thigh, giving him the perfect angle to view what she’s about to do. She presses her head forward, slipping his entire cock down her throat and gagging when it hits a sensitive spot in the back, her nails raking down his twitching tummy. She keeps him there for an elongated moment, allowing her walls to tighten around his length just how he likes it, toying with his swollen balls and moaning quietly around his prick. He can feel the vibrations burrow into the marrow of his bones.
“I told you to stop.” He doesn’t even bother mouthing his words this time, mood dark and cautious. He can hear Mitch exclaim in confusion through his speaker, but it’s the last thing on his mind right now.
Y/N’s watery eyes dance with a devious gleam as she grins around his girth, removing him just enough so she can breath properly, rubbing his bubbling tip along the inside of her silky cheek. Her phrase is muffled, but it’s clear enough to completely shatter him. “Make me, Daddy.”
Harry’s features harden. He’s done playing games.
He directs his attention to the microphone, voice calm and collected to the point where it’s frightening, all the tension and instability crumbling to ash. His brows crease dangerously, accent thicker than she’s ever heard it. “I have to go.”
“Harry—”
“I’ll text you after I fix the booking.”
The device beeps and the call ends, the phone falling face-down onto the couch.
The vampire roughly jerks Y/N back by her hair, sitting forward until their noses brush, his cold touch sending a prickling across her cheeks and ears. He addresses her with the same type of undisturbed patience he’d shown his friend, aura teeming with quiet power.
“Get up. Now.”
Y/N ends up with her back pressed into the couch cushions, Harry suspended above her with his knees on either sides of her hips, his cock ramming down her throat harshly as he guides her head with his knuckles twisted into her roots. He’s thrusting forward to meet her mouth, the emerald around his pupils electric with a type of carnal dominance that makes heat pour into her belly. She’s gazing up at him with water streaming freely out of her eyes and spit dripping down her chin, her hands fisting at the leather of the sofa as he fucks her face unrelentingly.
“You think that little stunt was cute? You think teasing me like that was fun?” He growls as he peers down at her, ramming past her raw lips with no remorse, swimming in the damp choking sounds that bounce back from the furniture in the room. “Open wider. Wider.”
She obeys.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To have me down your throat while you gag around it until you can barely breath? To choke on it while you take that heavy load and swallow every drop?”
Y/N bobs her head feverishly, unable to form any coherent sentences due to his violent pace.
The grip Harry has on the crown of her head tightens, his other hand cupping the back of her skull to push her deeper down his shaft, her nose smearing over his happy trail as his heavy balls bump against her slobbery chin. “Take that fucking cock, then. Take every inch like the filthy fucking brat you are.”
Y/N’s blurry eyes lull shut, the edges of her stinging mouth curving upwards as he hits every single one of her desires with a skill only he possesses. She doesn’t know why— or if it’s even healthy, at this point— but she’s never felt more pleasure than when she’s at Harry’s disposal. She just loves seeing him come undone for her.
“God, you like that, don’t you? Like being my little plaything?” The grin dimpling Harry’s cheeks is so utterly erotic and sinful, Y/N feels like she’s damning her soul just by glimpsing at it. He delicately thumbs tears off her cheekbones, contradicting his other much less tame motions. “Baby just wants to feel Daddy cum down her throat, doesn’t she?”
Stars begin spotting the girl’s vision, her mind vignetting as a fulfilling ache settles into her jugular. She nods her head drunkenly, coughing dryly as her lungs rattle with shallow inhales.
Harry gives an exceptionally hard stroke, holding her in place and feeling her constrict around him, her nails digging into the aged leather of his sofa. He takes a pause, broad chest heaving as his head falls back to hang between his shoulder blades, the golden light of his chandeliers reflecting off the red shade inking his irises. His climax begins to tip into his blood. “Say it. Be a good girl and say, ‘please cum for me, Daddy.’”
Y/N’s voice floats out raspy and trembling as she ogles up at the monster wishfully, her ability to speak absolutely frayed from the exertion she’s been put through. Her sentence is barely comprehensible given her full mouth, but watching her try is what gets Harry off. “P-Please cum for me, Daddy.”
Thick ribbons of warmth suddenly erupt down her throat, coaxing a series of garbled moans to pour from Harry’s chest. His whole body tightens as an orgasm floods his system, the muscles of his back drawing taut, his defined biceps jolting, and his lean abdomen clenching in ecstasy. His fern tattoos ripple over his tanned skin as he gives a few more deep strokes for good measure, milking himself to completion and drinking up the tiny noises of sensitivity Y/N makes. He finishes dishing the punishment she’d earned, delivering burst after burst of cum just as he’d promised, feeling her flex around his slick cock as she eagerly swallows every spurt.
“Every last bit, baby. All of it. Christ, that’s my fucking girl. ”
The boy cranes his neck forward again, taking in her disheveled appearance and humming in needy appreciation. Her hair is a disaster from all of his tugging, her eyes are puffy and red, and her lips are flushed and plump. There’s trails of dried tears tracing her cheeks and across her jaw, the collar of her borrowed shirt is soggy with spit, and he can just barely make out the damp patch she’s stained into his boxers along the insides of her thighs. She’s fiddling with her fingers across her lap, continuously shifting around in her seat and clamping her legs together, and Harry comes to the realization that she’s trying to ride the seam of his briefs in order to get a spoonful of relief.
In his sexually demented opinion, she’s looks like a proper angel.
Harry gradually withdraws himself from her mouth, watching with empty content as she sputters into a coughing fit and gulps down air as if she hasn’t had it for weeks. She wipes at the lower half of her face messily with the back of her hand, staring up at him all moony and soft, feeling her cheeks boil at his conceited simper. The vampire carefully tucks his drenched prick back into his clothes, crouching down to her level and lilting his head to the side, tucking a strand of tangled hair behind her heated ear. The pads of his digits streak down the front of her neck and perch at the hollow between her collarbones, her pulse thundering beneath her sweaty flesh. He taps at the center of her throat for significance, tone fond and almost caring. “Is it sore?”
Y/N struggles to get saliva down, rattling her head in agreement since her vocal chords are refusing to work.
Harry folds the hem of his tee over his fingers, reaching forward to help clean up anything leftover across her chin and jaw. Y/N eyes him with a form of detached admiration, enamored with the way he tends to her so gently now that the session has come to a close.
“You like it, though, right?”
The young woman doesn’t even try to mask the fact that she indeed does, nodding her head once again.
“That’s good to hear, pet.” Harry drops his shirt back over his belly, giving her a chaste peck to the nose. Despite the ever-present coldness of his touch, the action sparks a warm glow that surges from the tips of her ears to the heels of her feet. “Want to make sure I wasn’t being too rough.”
He stands up onto his knees, dismounting the sofa and combing a few rouge curls out of his eyes, nudging at her socked foot jestingly with his. Y/N kicks him in return as she busies herself with combing out the knots from her mussed locks, attempting to distract herself from the gnawing running along the inside of her stomach. She needs to get it sedated, but she’s too timid to ask the vampire outright, which she knows is ironic given what they’d just done.
Harry sits down along the marble counter of the coffee table with his forearms propped along his knees, toying with his lionhead daylight ring (it’s the only one he wears at home, out of necessity) as he watches her tend to the mess he’d created. He smiles to himself in satisfied amusement— she always looks so pretty freshly face-fucked.
The monster then notices how the human is still rubbing her thighs together, reminding him that she had been left unattended. He decides that he should do what any gentleman would and provide assistance to the issue; it’s only fair, according to the unspoken laws of their little mutual arrangement. He hooks his fingers along the rim of the table beneath him, dragging it forward until his knees meet the edge of the couch, knocking hers open slightly. He leans back onto his palms as she gives him a curious glance, the olive tone around his pupils glittering with hunger while his fingers tap knowingly along the surface below.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Harry’s eyebrows kink upward. “Can’t a man look in his own home?”
“Of course he can, but just not at me. Staring’s rude. Especially when I’m covered in spit and bodily fluids.”
The boy gives an exaggerated pout, pairing it with a set of puppy dog eyes and a honeyed drawl. “But you look so cute covered in my bodily fluids.”
Y/N stares at him flatly. “Wow. I’m so flattered. I’ll file that compliment right under the one where you said I look adorable with jizz all over my eyelashes.”
“Well, you do! And that was a great compliment, if you think about it. It’s unique and creative— very avant-garde of me.”
“You need brain cells in order to be avant-garde.”
“Just shut up and get on your hands and knees.”
///
Harry drinks from Y/N that night.
He knows Mitch would scold him for it, considering the quota for draft beverages from mortal taps is strictly once a week, per his orders. But the creature just can’t help himself. She smells so sweet, and her neck looks so tempting when her head is turned to the side in sleep; even in the dark, he can see her veins pumping beneath the taut skin. He justifies it by telling himself that any vampire would give into weakness if they were in his place, and it’s not like he’s some uncultured, unhinged newborn who lacks basic control. He’s spent decades refining his impulses and taming his animalistic instincts to the point where he can walk through a butcher shop and not even bat an eye. He’s more than capable of double-dipping without threatening her life.
However, Harry will admit that he does make some embarrassing sounds while he’s fang-deep in her carotid artery. He can’t be expected to withhold them, especially not with how good she tastes. Y/N’s blood reminds him of so many things that he can’t ever quite place its flavor. Sometimes it reminds him of green grapes and champagne, and others it dawns on him in the form of peaches and cream. There’s instances where she doesn’t even fall into the usual spectrum of taste, but rather reminds him of sensations instead of tangible objects. Sometimes she tastes the way the first breath of spring feels— light and soothing, with hints of fresh florals and dewy mornings. Other times, she tastes like strawberries on a summer evening— warm, tangy, and nostalgic. At the risk of sounding like a brain-dead junky, drinking from Y/N is a magical experience that he wishes could last forever; Harry has never found it more difficult to pull back from someone’s throat than when he has to recede from hers.
After the immortal has had his fill, he pricks his finger along one of his fangs and smears a drop of his blood onto Y/N’s tongue, watching the two gaping holes on her neck heal instantaneously and leave behind a faint bruise that will likely be gone by morning. He spends the rest of the night twirling stands of her hair around his fingers and counting her heartbeats, vaguely wondering what it feels like to have one. It’s been so long since he’s carried a pulse, he’s forgotten what it’s like to have it thumping in his chest. All he has left is a phantom organ and not a day goes by where he doesn’t miss its steady rhythm.
The second the first beam of sunlight filters in through the crack in Harry’s window shades, he’s up on his feet pacing around the kitchen, going through his daily morning routine of preparing breakfast with a lively soundtrack to keep him company. That is, until his actual companion awakens; then he happily replaces his playlist with her groggy voice and tired eyes.
Harry has chosen to prepare parfaits as their first meal of the day, scooping vanilla yogurt into two marbled bowls and setting out an abundant array of toppings, smiling to himself at the way Y/N’s eyes light up the room. She fills her platter to the brim with blueberries, chunks of banana, diced peaches, and crushed walnuts, while Harry loads his with tons of raspberries, slices of mango, scoops of granola, and plenty of honey. He runs into some trouble halfway through squeezing out the last ingredient, proceeding to shake it vigorously to try and get rid of the clump blocking the spout. The bottle refuses to cooperate and Harry turns it towards his face to get a better look at the problem, winking one eye shut to focus better on the cap. He gives it another testing squeeze and much to his luck, the jammed portion squirts loose and he ends up with syrup dripping down his face.
Y/N doesn’t even attempt to stifle her amusement, nearly choking on a spoonful of yogurt as laughter takes over her entire body. The vampire stands rigidly beside her, glaring at the teddy bear-shaped container with so much hatred, she thinks it might melt. When the human finally manages to tame her giggles, she reaches up and uses her index finger to collect honey right off Harry’s cheek, sticking the digit into her mouth and sucking it off with a loud pop.
Her friend gives her a deadpan scowl, to which she simply shrugs her brows playfully while gifting him a bright grin. “Now you know what it feels to have a sticky liquid shot into your eye. Doesn’t feel too good, does it?”
“Fuck off.”
“You look pretty, though. Does that make it better?”
“I will literally pour my yogurt onto your hair.”
“Karma’s a bitch, Winnie the Pooh.”
Harry ends up having to shower in order to successfully get rid of the gooey substance, though it’s hardly a hassle given that Y/N gladly joins him. It doesn’t turn too sexual, surprisingly enough.
The duo stand under the shower panel covered in suds, steam floating around their naked bodies as water pelts down on top of them, matting hair to their necks and jaws. Harry doesn’t know why, but he likes the fact that they’re now comfortable enough to be nude around each other outside of their usual dynamic. It’s fulfilling, for some odd reason.
The girl helps the creature scrub off the honey with some facial cleanser, rubbing at his flushed cheeks with her thumbs and fighting off an endeared giggle when he scrunches his nose in annoyance. His voice comes out as a childish whine. “That hurts.”
“Stop being such a baby.” She huffs, going in along his cheekbones and rolling her eyes when he grumbles. “Lean down.”
Harry abides, ducking down so she can get a better angle, casually coasting his hands onto her hips to keep her from losing her footing to the slippery floor. Y/N leans forward onto the tips of her toes, squinting at him through the foggy air as she continues to wash off the syrup, wanting to make sure she isn’t missing a single spot. Harry watches her quietly with his sopping curls sticking to his forehead and along the nape of his neck, lips twitching fondly at how hellbent she is on getting the mess off. Her brows are creased in concentration and her tongue is peeking out of her mouth; he has to restrain the impulse to surge forward and kiss her.
Once Y/N is satisfied with her work, she falls back onto her heels, washing any remnants away under the stream and pushing her drenched strands out of her face. “All done. Try not to do it again.”
“I make no promises.” Harry tuts as he joins her beneath the water, bare chest a mere inch from hers as he quirks his brows coyly. “It got you naked, so I’ll probably do it again.”
“I won’t help next time.”
“Then I’ll just rub my face against yours and get it all over you. Won’t have much of a choice, then.”
“You’re a literal child.”
Y/N grabs the bottle of chamomile shampoo from the shelf carved into the polished stone wall of the shower, uncapping it and pouring a glob into the palm of her hand. She sets the container back down and beckons Harry forward with the forefinger of her free hand. The vampire drifts towards her once again and wraps his arms across the dip of her back, lightly swaying her from side to side as she begins working the shampoo into his roots, the pads of her fingers massaging his scalp in slow circles. The groan that betrays him is pitiful.
Y/N pretends not to hear it, continuing to work a lather into his curls as the boy trails his fingers up and down the center of her spine, the feathery sensation causing her to shiver despite the hot temperature of the water. Harry leans down to nestle his face into the crook of his friend’s neck, laying his head along her shoulder and cradling her to his body as she combs her fingers through his locks. He can’t remember the last time he took a shower with someone just for the sake of it, with no ulterior motive other than to bask in each other’s presence. It’s nice.
Harry begins sponging his lips across the curve of Y/N’s throat, feeling her tense momentarily before relaxing back into his grasp, the pads of her digits scratching at his scalp.
“God, that feels so good.” Harry mumbles, tone so garbled in bliss, it’s barely understandable.
The mortal slowly coaxes him back under the direct line of the shower, thoroughly rinsing the bubbles out of his hair and making sure to carefully wash any leftover shampoo out of his lashes. She then ties her arms around his broad shoulders, gently running her nails up and down the expanse of his muscular back, feeling the tendons unknot under her guidance. Y/N cranes her head to the side and flushes her lips to Harry’s temple, the pattering of the water camouflaging the fact that the area lacks a pulse. She sighs softly in innocent pleasure, the warm air sending a delightful bristling down the young man’s neck and drawing another drunken whimper from his lungs. This all feels therapeutic, almost. Neither had realized how much they missed domesticity until now.
The human suddenly snorts humorously, talking against Harry’s waxy skin. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to make a move yet.”
Harry rattles his head sleepily, the ridges of his mouth tickling her jugular as he does so. His voice is distant and tender, but his words send a pang of electricity to her core. “I’ll fuck you afterwards. Just wanna enjoy this right now.”
Y/N lets her eyes lull shut, allowing the sheets of hot water to numb her mind the same way it had his, a certain type of mellowness soaking into her bones. Her tone comes out as soothed and detached as her lover’s, all her attention funneled into how incredible his hard body feels pressed to hers in such an intimate fashion, his strong arms clinging to her like a lifeline. “I’m not complaining.”
Even in his distracted state, Harry still somehow manages to wriggle in a smug quip. “Of course you’re not. I give you nothing to complain about.”
“Dickhead.”
Y/N gives his ringlets a spiteful tug, which he responds to with an airy chuckle and a cheeky smack across her ass. The girl jumps slightly with a small gasp and a handful of select curses, which only causes him to cackle even further. “You love that shit, don’t you?”
“Go back to keeping your mouth shut.”
“Mm. S’what I thought.”
Harry keeps his sensual promise, as he always does.
As soon as they exit the shower, he immediately wanders into the bedroom, the only towel in his possession being the one he’s using to shake out his damp curls. Y/N dries off her body patiently as she stands in front of the clouded mirror, rubbing the linen over her softened skin. She handles her hair second, patting and scrunching the water out as she thinks on what Harry could possibly be doing that is taking him so long. She doubts he’s getting dressed, if his earlier intentions are any indication, and he seemed like he had a plan in motion when he’d walked out, so there must be a method to his prolonged absence.
When the monster pads back into the bathroom, he is just as bare as when he’d left, the towel he’d used on his locks crumpled in his large hands. He chucks it into the linen hamper beside the jacuzzi, sauntering up behind Y/N and she has to force herself not to use the mirror to ogle below his waist. She folds her towel neatly onto the counter, reaching forward and wiping the last bit of condensation off the glass so she can get a proper view of Harry’s face. Maybe it’ll help her deduce what he’s plotting.
The boy presses up against her backside, pushing her forward until her hips are wedged between his torso and the edge of the bathroom counter, moving all her stringy hair onto one shoulder with the back of his hand. Harry locks eyes with her through the mirror, speckling a few sloppy kisses along the back of her neck and grinning into her flesh when a shiver coils down her spine. He looks so fucking good with his damp ringlets glued along his sharp jaw, his jade eyes glossy with lascivious intentions, and his cheeks and chest still colored from the hot water, tattoos looking as alluring as ever. He nuzzles the tip of his nose across the shell of her ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and tugging teasingly, the warm air of his low, dominant tone causing her flinch in anticipation.
“Arms behind your back.”
Y/N obeys without a hitch, bringing her hands together atop the alcove at the bottom of her spine. She feels the unmistakable sensation of cold metal looping around her wrists, tightening with soft clicks and pinching at her skin. The cuffs sift into the designated setting and Harry gives them a quick yank to check for security, tying the excess chain link around his knuckles and pulling down harshly. Y/N’s body contorts to his influence, her arms straightening out as her back arches, chest swelling forward while her hips remain perched to the tabletop, held in place by his own. She can feel the head of his cock dab against the back of her thighs, his irises darkening as he surveys her bust with a type of barely-contained desire that sends heat flooding into her abdomen.
Harry ducks his head further down to glue more kisses along the slope of her shoulder, nipping periodically and leaving behind a neat row of love bites that he’ll admire in detail later. The words he murmurs against her skin deliver a sweltering simmer in their wake. “Do you want it rough?”
Y/N swallows thickly, nodding her head several times and whispering a bashful, “Yes.”
“‘Yes’ what?”
The human licks at her lips tentatively, squeaking a tad when gives the metal hoops an expectant tug, urging a reply. “Yes, sir.”
Harry’s lashes flutter shut for a second, the corners of his lips twitching in arrogant satisfaction. “You’ve got the filthiest tongue, but you know how to make it say the sweetest things, don’t you, baby?”
“Only for you.”
“No one else?”
“No one else.”
The vampire’s eyes open slowly, head tilting to the side to assess her with sly amusement. “You wanna know how I can tell that’s the truth?”
Y/N’s joints are starting to ache due to the position he’s fixed her in, but she doesn’t mind the burn. It feeds into the appeal. “H-How?”
Harry leans forward, brushing his wet lips up her jaw, the tip of his cock spreading her open just a smidge. “Because every time I fuck you, you’re always so bloody tight. Means I’m the only one stretching out that snug little cunt.”
A broken whine escapes Y/N’s sore throat— courtesy of what had occurred the night prior— and she squirms in the brunette’s grip, trying to shimmy her way further down his length. She’s anxious to feel him fill her. “Deeper.”
“Pardon?”
“Go deeper. Want it all.”
Harry raises an eyebrow in impressed curiosity. “You want it all in one go? Don’t want me to prep you first?”
She shakes her head stubbornly, pushing back against him and succeeding in sinking an inch or so. Harry’s entire face hardens as she clenches around the head of his prick, attempting to ride down further to sedate her desperate need. He twists his fist tighter around the chain, his other hand coming up to grip her throat, forearm pressed between her breasts as he gets a decent hold to prepare for what’s to come.
“If it gets to be too much,” Harry dabs a gentle kiss onto her cheek; it’s to communicate the importance of the message amidst the tense atmosphere, “you know to tell me, right?”
“Mmhm.”
“Alright. Ready?”
“Always.”
Y/N nearly passes out. Even though she’s grown accustomed to Harry’s size and girth, it somehow never fails to shock her into a state of unexpected rapture. He just fits so well inside her— hits every nook and crevice like he was meant to touch every single one. That, combined with his unrelinquishing thrusts and sinful dirty talk...It’s enough to render anyone helpless. It’s certainly enough to have her shaking and screaming against his chest, and it’s definitely more than enough to drive her towards an orgasm that she knows will blow out her legs for at least the rest of the day.
Harry fucks into her just how she’d requested— rough and vehement. He presses her bare back to his chest by using the hold he has around her throat, her head falling backwards onto his shoulder as he pounds into her belly from behind. His other hand is braided into the chain between the cuffs, controlling how her body seizes up and gives way. She’s standing on the tips of her toes, legs spread open as much as her weak knees will support, scraggly breaths stuttering from her nose and mouth as shattered noises of ecstasy decorate the space the fading steam has left behind. Her hips are ramming forward against the rim of the counter, the marble knocking against her pubic bone to the point where she knows bruises will develop later on. She doesn’t mind it; she loves seeing the memories Harry brands onto her, whether that be in the form of hickies across her thighs, fingerprints over her waist, or his rings fanned out across the swell of her ass. She’ll take anything he’s willing to give.
The vampire is dismantling just as quickly as she is, obvious in the fractured growls and soft grunts he’s puffing against the side of her face. His pink-polished nails dig into her jugular, fingers twitching as her heartbeat hammers against his palm, sending vibration down his whole nervous system. His cock is slicking into her easily and it’s obvious the anticipation of what he had said during their bath had gotten to her; he can feel how wet she is with every stroke. It’s dripping down her quivering thighs and smearing all over his tiger head tattoo, damp slaps resonating from where her backside hits against his tinted pelvis.
Harry stares down hazily at where he’s spreading her open, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as tiny mewls itch along the back of his raw throat, her own sounds playing across his ears with each buck of his thighs. They float through the heavy air like a lullaby and he can confidently say he’d listen to her moans forever, if time allowed.
“I think it’s funny,” Harry starts with a comedic edge to his strained voice, mimicking the introduction Y/N had used the day before when they’d been in the jacuzzi, “that you’re always so willing to let me use you however I want. That you literally beg me to take you this hard. It’s almost pitiful, really, that you never had anyone fuck you right before I came along.”
The girl squirms in his arms, her hands flat against his abdomen, nails carving into his flesh. Her sentences come out cracked and almost pained. “I-I wish I’d met you sooner.”
“Yeah, I bet you do.” Harry grits against the shell of her ear, smirking when she worries her lower lip beneath her top teeth, trying to keep a tab on what he knows is probably an embarrassingly loud keen. “I bet you wish you’d had me back home, huh? Spent all your time fucking around with those vanilla small-town boys, never had a real man treat you the way you wanted. Bet you didn’t even like those pricks, did you, darling?”
Y/N shakes her head vigorously in response. “They were so boring. You’re so much better.”
She’s working his praise kink like a charm.
“Poor thing.” Harry scoffs sympathetically, running his grasp upwards until his thumb and forefinger rope around her jaw. He maneuvers her head into place, forcing her to look at herself in the mirror, hissing his words lowly. “Eyes up. See how pretty you look taking every last bit of that cock? And the way your tummy’s bulging? That’s how you know the sex is good— that’s how it’s supposed to look.”
Y/N gazes upon the image her friend is referring, her exhales hiccuping in her chest at the way an obvious bump rises in her belly every time he thrusts inside. Not only that, but Harry just looks incredible, as well, with his heavily inked arm flushed between her breasts, the art flexing to life as he yanks her down against his lap by her neck. She can see the sweat beading his hairline, his freshly-washed ringlets jumping to his movements as he groans into her scalp.
Y/N’s lips part in a silent moan and the immortal takes this chance to shove his first two fingers into her mouth, weighing them against her tongue and instructing her with a clear, deep accent. “Suck.”
She does so obediently, her cheeks hollowing as she gasps around the digits, swiveling to match his tempo. Between her glistening body, the needy expression painted across her appearance as she conforms to his every demand, and the way her walls are clinging to him like a vice as she eagerly licks and suckles at him…
Harry loses it.
“Fucking hell.” The monster unclamps the hand he has around her jugular and Y/N drops back down onto her heels, ankles quaking now that she has to carry her own weight. His palm finds refuge along the back of her skull instead, proceeding to shove her head down towards the counter, pulling at the cuffs to finagle her into a folded position. “Bend over.”
Y/N does as told, a small, “mm!” plucking at her vocal chords as Harry pushes her cheek down against the cold marble situated between his two sinks. He pins her head to the surface and she casts her attention upwards to try and get a peek of him through the glass. His eyes look unnaturally dark, though she can’t quite place the shade given her limited view.
The vampire makes sure the chain link is secured around his knuckles, proceeding to use the toy to bounce Y/N against his cock. He yanks her towards his torso until she thunks wetly against his base, using his hips to push her forward harshly and pulling out until his tip is barely grazing her entrance. He repeats this action over and over, weak whimpers spilling shamelessly from his plump ruby lips as he keeps her face fastened down, maintaining some form of consistent stability. Every fiber of his being sparks with bliss as he watches her jerk against the counter, back caving forward and causing her naked chest to bulge against the stone panel. One of these days, she’s going to drive him mental. He swears it.
“There’s a good girl, minx.” Harry’s head tips backwards, bobbing back and forth as his sticky chest heaves with the exertion of keeping him tethered to reality. “Take it just like that, yeah? God, you should see the way you’re so snug around me. Love that cock, don’t you? Say it. Tell me you love it.”
Y/N’s fingers curl into loose fists against the dip of her spine, nails digging into her palms. “I love your cock, Harry. I love it so much. Don’t stop, please don’t fucking— oh!” He prods over her g-spot and she shudders below him. “Shit, keep going! Right there, right there, right there— oh my God!”
“Right here? Is that what’s gonna make my dirty little whore cum?” Harry grinds his teeth, ignoring the rouge curls falling into his furrowed brows, jabbing the spongy area with continuous plunges. “More? Look at how you’re shaking, baby. And you’re just so fucking wet. Absolutely soaked and... and fuck, that’s my sweet girl.”
The boy keeps delivering every plea she chokes out, his climax beginning to froth at the trench of his stomach and along the underside of his balls. A familiar glow starts to pour into his dormant veins. “I’m almost there, dove. Gonna fill you up until it runs down your thighs.”
“Y-You’re so good, I can’t fucking— I’m gonna—”
“Beg for it. Beg for Daddy, princess.”
Y/N does so with no remorse, confessing to him how much she wants his load, telling him that she needs to feel him spill inside her all warm and thick and heavy. A dark, open-mouthed smirk adorns Harry’s features as he fucks a throbbing ache between her thighs, feeling his mind completely slip. He may be damned with eternal life, but in this instant, the immortal feels like he touches heaven.
Then, that moment of pure euphoria is stripped away by the sound of his front door clicking open.
Harry’s eyes snap awake, all his motions coming to an abrupt halt. He shushes a protesting Y/N quietly, tuning his heightened hearing to make sure he hadn’t imagined the sound.
But no, it’s very much real. It’s followed by the noise of the lock clanking back into its hole, and then three pairs of footsteps begin echoing down the hallway that leads to his living room. He recognizes every single one and unhinged rage suddenly flares around his pupils, potent and bright red. If Y/N wasn’t in such a compromisable position, he wouldn’t have gotten away with that slip-up.
“Christ, you’ve got to be fucking shitting me.”
Harry carefully withdraws himself from between the mortal’s legs, wincing a bit at the loss of suction and feeling a spoonful of guilt stem from the disappointed whine Y/N sobs. His swollen, leaking cock sways lightly as he takes a cautious step back, testing to see if he’s capable of moving without face-planting the ground. His mind is misty and he’s obviously drenched in the pungent scent of sex, but other than that, he reckons he can manage just fine. Especially with the newfound anger coursing through his nerves— a direct result of the unexpected trio of intruders chatting nonchalantly on the floor below.
Harry stumbles towards the exit of the bathroom, knees wobbly and head spinning, an unsatisfied gnawing toiling in his groin. He needs to get that taken care of as soon as possible, but he can’t until he gets rid of the three morons milling around his foyer. He snatches his cherry blossom silk robe from the hook on the wall, wrapping it around himself tightly and making sure to cover all his assets to prevent any mishaps.
He glances up at a pouting Y/N as he ties off the ribbon around his waist, walking back and helping her onto her unstable feet, cooing apologetically. “Just give me a minute, sweetheart. I heard some visitors come in downstairs ‘cause, apparently, they don’t understand the concept of privacy. This is the last time I’m trusting anyone with an extra key.”
The girl leans back against one of the sinks, blinking up at him emptily as he thumbs over her chin in comfort. Her voice is hardly audible, raw with exhaustion. “How...How did you know they were here? I didn’t hear them come in...”
Harry pauses for a moment, clearing his throat awkwardly and pecking her on the nose to insert a distraction. He throws some humor into the mix as well, wanting to steer the conversation to safe grounds, opting for using a bit of compulsion to get the job done. His pupils dilate as his sentences swim around her head in a soothing voice, heavy with persuasion. “I heard the door slam shut. I guess you were a little too busy screaming my name to notice.”
Y/N’s pupils expand to match his, her face going slack as the supernatural magic sews into her thoughts and molds her perspective to his story. Her lashes flutter in mild confusion, brows cinching as her brain recalibrates itself. The creases in her forehead dissolve as all of her doubt melts away, the corners of her plump lips quirking at his snarky remark. “I guess so.”
“Can’t blame you, though.” Harry taps at her bottom lip cheekily, shrugging his brows. “I was giving it to you pretty good.”
“Stop being such an arrogant little shit.” Y/N rolls her foggy eyes, but she can’t hide the way her heartbeat spikes— not from him. Then, her face suddenly wracks with embarrassment, eyes shattering with humiliated realization. “Oh my God, that means they probably heard everything…”
Oh, they definitely heard everything, Harry thinks. They’ve got nothing better to do other than pry.
He nurses her downcast face with his cold palm, one shoulder rising and falling casually to show it’s no big deal. “Don’t worry about it, hm? I’m gonna go kick them out, anyways, so you won’t have to deal with it.”
The pet name and his kind gesture eases her woes a bit, but not much. “Still. I’m never showing my face in public ever again.”
Now it’s the vampire’s turn to roll his eyes at her theatrics. “Just stay here, yeah? It’ll only take a second, and then…” Her friend gives her naked body a suggestive once-over, licking at the corner of his mouth. “Then we can finish what we started.”
Y/N kicks at his ankle, jokingly chastising him for his wandering gaze as she fiddles with her fingers within the handcuffs. “Just go.”
The moment Harry’s bare feet step off the last rung of his staircase, he begins spewing venom at the three imbeciles standing around at the mouth of his entrance corridor.
“Are you fucking dense?” He stomps up towards the group of young men with balled fists and bristling irises, all his spite trained on Mitch. “I told you I was busy! That suggests that you should’ve stayed away for the weekend! It meant, ‘leave me alone,’ not ‘come to my flat unannounced.’”
“Yeah, we know you’re busy.” Niall boasts with a loud scoff, shaking his head as an afterthought. “I think the whole building knows, at this point.”
The Irish bloke grabs Xander, who catches onto what the man is doing and happily takes a part in the action. He bends over while Niall grasps onto his shoulders and begins to mimic thrusting, arching his back forward and shaking his ass. He sucks one of his fingers into his mouth, moaning profusely to add authenticity to their vulgar reenactment. “Oh, Harry! Right there, don’t stop!”
Niall drops his voice a few octaves for symbolism, putting on a shitty British accent as he bucks against Xander’s backside. “Yeah, baby, you like that? Like it right there? Tell me how much you love that cock.”
Harry’s jaw clenches as he tries to ignore them, refusing to give rise to their taunting. The two boys break into a puddle of giggles at his expense, nudging each other triumphantly and eventually dying down. Harry isn’t normally the type of person to daydream about violence— why would anyone partake in something so barbaric when dismantling an enemy psychologically is so much better?— but he finds himself fantasizing about tearing Niall and Xander’s hands off and using them as ping-pong paddles.
Mitch shifts his body towards his best friend, arms crossed loosely with an expression of sheer amusement painted across his bearded face, seeming undisturbed by Harry’s rampage and deadly grimace. “It’s nice to see you, too, H.”
The younger vampire takes a measured inhale, swallowing down the urge to rip the older man’s mustache clean off. He directs his next sentence at all of them, glaring intently as his voice comes out flat and harsh. “Get out.”
Niall raises his palms in peaceful surrender, proceeding to use an index finger to signal hastily between his impromptu porno co-star and himself. “Don’t look at us, this was Mitch's idea. We just came along.”
“None of you should have come at all.” Harry spits, tightening his lean arms over his chest, biceps rippling under the thin silk of his elegant robe. “What do you want?”
A soft giggle suddenly bursts from Xander and he momentarily slaps his hand over his mouth to muddle it, but his eyes continue to dance with mirth. “Sorry, I just can’t take you seriously in that.” He juts his chin towards Harry’s pajamas. “I think my grandmother had one just like it.”
“Yeah, I stole this from her place right after I pissed on her grave.” The brunette snaps with an exaggerated smile, feeling a flare of evil satisfaction at the way Xander’s grin immediately plops. Niall snorts loudly and tries to cover it up, but it fails and he is left having to brace the brunt of the other boy’s contempt.
Harry turns back to face Mitch while the other two immortals bicker, now aware that he is the mastermind behind this entire coup. “What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you have left for Vegas already?”
“Yeah, we should have.” He answers pointedly with a soft, dejected sigh. Harry has to keep himself from casting his gaze away in guilt.
The annual trip had been a tradition he and Mitch had started in the nineties, just them two. As their group had expanded, so had the attendant list, and now it was something special their whole clique did together to put some extra excitement— something stable to look forward to— into the endless years they had ahead. No one had missed out on the trip in the last thirty years, especially not willingly, and no one ever thought Harry— the co-founder of the event— would be the one to break that streak. He can tell Mitch is upset.
“I’m sorry.” Harry mumbles, squeezing at the inside of his elbows and putting as much genuine emotion into his demeanor as possible. “It just slipped my mind and I made another commitment that I can’t bail on. But it won’t happen again, I promise. Betsy swear.”
Mitch’s downturned lips jolt slightly at the mention of his old bayonet. He had kept the weapon after the American Revolution had ended, as a tribute to the old life he was leaving behind after he transitioned, naming it fondly after his mother. With all of that history taken into appeal, it’s no wonder the item means a lot to him. That is exactly why the two best friends had developed a dynamic around it.
They would tie an oath to the object in order to ensure it would be kept, and if the promise was broken, the other would get to stab the traitor with it. The game had been something Mitch and Harry had conjured up decades ago while under the influence of some very strong psychedelics, but it had stuck, for some reason. It’s simply a playful inside joke, and though it’s a tad gruesome, it’s hardly an issue considering they both self-heal quickly. Any damage inflicted is equivalent to that of a rubber band snapping against their skin, so in the end, no harm, no foul. At its core, it’s just a vampire’s version of a pinky swear, hence the term, “Betsy swear.” Harry had thought about getting it patented, at one point.
The jade-eyed boy feels a weight lift off his shoulders as Mitch indulges one of his signature quiet chuckles. “Alright, fine. Betsy swear, then. The reason we’re here is ‘cause I wanted to check up on you before we left, and ‘cause I wanted to make sure you switched the reservation. You never got back to me about it.”
“Oh, my bad. I got it done, though. Everything should check out.” Harry reassures, waving away his visitor’s doubt. He’d tended to the job last night after Y/N fell asleep and he meant to send a confirmation text, but forgot when the mortal had begun to stir randomly. He’d had to put away his phone and pretend to be unconscious for a few minutes until her agitation melted away, resulting in the deed going undone, courtesy of the mild panic that had dulled his memory. “Why didn’t you just text me about it?”
Mitch gives him a deadpan look, pursing his lips to fight off an entertained grin. “Oh, I did. Multiple times, actually. But I reckon you were too busy with the treadmill to notice.”
The older creature’s reference works as intended, an irritating flush crawling up Harry’s neck and pouring into his ears, garnering a fit of cackles on his companion’s behalf.
“Fuck off.” Harry grumbles as he shoves Mitch’s shoulder, but the insult is hard to take seriously when he’s wrestling a smirk of his own.
“Is it the girl from the club?” The lanky man inquires curiously, tilting his head to the side with an impressed air. “It’s been, what, four weeks now? That’s a record, I think. You’ve never kept one around that long.”
“What can I say, the sex is good.” Harry shrugs easily, tucking a couple of rebellious curls away from his eyes, which gleam crimson red as a supporting factor to his next comment. “And the blood is even better.”
Mitch rolls his irises playfully. “Alright, Casanova, pipe down.” He glances over his friend’s rumpled appearance, taking in the slightly damp skin, wild hair, and the plethora of faded hickies peeking through the boy’s robe, littering his chest and collarbones. “She’s got you on a tight leash, I see.”
“It’s only fair, considering she spends most of that time in my handcuffs. Quid pro quo and all that.” Harry quips back, bursting into laughter when Mitch gags dramatically.
“You know you could’ve just brought her along, right?” Mitch suggests, tucking his hands into his pockets. “We each have our own rooms, remember? No one would get in the way of your little late night jogs. Though I can’t say the same for the other hotel guests. She’s not necessarily subtle.”
Harry presses his tongue along the inside of his cheek coyly. “It’s not my fault I’m good in bed. It’s a curse, really. Could never get away with dressing room sex.”
He contemplates Mitch's offer for a second. He thinks it could be a fun time, but then he recalls that the trip to Vegas is a week-long party, which Y/N can’t indulge because she works a regular nine-to-five. Plus, a human in a car full of vampires sounds like the introduction to an ominous joke. Something is bound to slip, especially because no one in the crew is used to having humans around outside of meal hours. He doesn’t want the responsibility of constantly having to wipe her brain.
Aside from that, most of the vampires that mill around Vegas aren’t as cultured as Harry’s friends. They lack restraint, a conscience, and fear of consequences, given that the city’s crazy reputation provides the perfect cover for all those dangerous behaviors. That makes them deadly predators to someone as trusting and unsuspecting as Y/N, and having to continuously protect her would be too much of a hassle. It’s supposed to be a vacation; the last thing he needs is for it to turn into an episode of Shark Week. It’s best to stay put.
Harry shakes his head after a minute, clearing his throat. “But I think I’m good. Bringing along a human isn’t worth all the trouble she might cause. Thank you, though.”
Mitch bobs his head in understanding, well aware of the problems Harry is alluding to. “You have a point.” He pauses for a second in thought, shaking his head at the idea of having to deal with the insanity that surrounds their Vegas siblings. “I guess I’ll just see you next week, then, yeah? Better get going.”
The younger vampire mirrors his nod, opening his arms for a hug, which Mitch gladly takes. He’s not one for affection, that much is clear, but he makes certain exceptions here and there, and of course his friends file under that category. And every now and then, Y/N does too.
“See you next week.” He pulls away from the embrace with a hard pat to Mitch’s shoulder, smiling softly. “Send tons of pictures, okay? And videos of Niall getting shitfaced. I need new blackmail content.”
“Will do.” Mitch squeezes his best friend’s shoulders tightly, beaming at him in return. He then cranes towards his two fellow guests, whistling to gain their attention from the passionate conversation they seem to be having about Harry’s robe. “Time to head out, Bonnie and Clyde.”
“Who’s who?” Niall questions childishly, raising an eyebrow. “Because I think I should be Clyde. Xander has Bonnie vibes.”
“No I don’t!”
“Yes, you do.” The Irish boy reasons, cocking his head knowingly. “You seem like the type who would cheat on a murderer with another criminal from the same jail. You’ve got a knack for drama, like most women.”
Xander crosses his arms stubbornly. “No, I don’t.”
“You do, actually.” Harry butts in, eyes twinkling slyly as the group starts to wander towards the exit. He decides to get revenge for the teasing from earlier. “You moan just like one, too.”
Xander blushes bright red, diving into the shadow of the corridor to avoid any more ridicule. “I’m leaving.”
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!”
The other vampires laugh as they follow behind Harry’s ex-fling, waving their final goodbyes. As soon as the front door echoes shut, the immortal turns on his heel and heads back towards the glass stairs, beginning to undo the silk ribbon knotted around his hips.
He’s got his own partner in crime to attend to.
///
That night, Y/N and Harry end up bidding each other farewell in the corridor of his condo.
That seems to be a common theme in their relationship, he’s come to find. It’s usually the entrance to her own apartment instead of his, but the motif is there, nonetheless: They always end up meeting in a hallway, every single time.
“Thanks for having me over.” Y/N murmurs in her signature gentle dialect, smiling delicately as she skids the toe of her sneaker against the ground of the carpet outside his door, trying to keep the butterflies in her tummy tame. It was an incredible two days— maybe the best weekend she’s ever had, if she’s being honest. “I had a lot of fun.”
Harry leans his bare shoulder against his threshold, clad in nothing but a pair of royal blue boxers and black ankle socks, freely showing off the collection of love bites and scratches Y/N had so kindly finished gifting him a few hours ago. She’d gone wild the second he’d unlocked the metal cuffs and he’s more than happy with the results.
The stains speckle his broad chest and the expanse of his taut neck, dark and obvious beneath the complex’s buttery lighting. Bruises trace down his stomach and across his ribs, a neat row of four hickies centered vertically between his two fern inkings. They disappear suggestively under the elastic band of his underwear and she can feel flashes of heat layer across her cheeks, her mind recalling all the filthy sounds he’d made when she had created them.
The human peels away from the artwork that is Harry’s marked torso, glancing around nervously at the fact that some stranger might see the fruit of their actions. The vampire’s lips twitch at her concern; it baffles him how she can be such a devil in between the sheets, but such a shy, reserved angel in every other aspect. It’s cute.
Harry reaches forward and takes her warm fingers into his larger hand, thumbing over her knuckles appreciatively as his irises glitter smugly amidst his lashes, a smirk stringing his pillowy mouth. “We always have a lot of fun.”
Y/N squeezes his palm playfully, gnawing into her cheek and humming in agreement. “That, we do.”
A moment of comfortable silence suspends the air between them, the only sound being the faint footsteps of people on the levels above and below, alongside the light skidding of the elevator as it delivers patrons to their destinations. Harry is the first to speak up again.
“What was your favorite part?”
Y/N blinks up at him blankly, slightly startled at the random question, but moreso at being put on the spot.
“Oh, uh…” She laughs shakily, struggling to recall everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours. There had been so much bare skin and desperate tongues involved, she can hardly pick through her memories without her ears prickling. “I think...I think the shower was my favorite. It was nice and relaxing. Helped me unwind.”
Harry nods in recognition, turning through the pages in his mind and skimming through the instance she’s referring. “It was pretty nice, yeah. You look good in a soap beard.”
Y/N scoffs at his joking compliment. “Thanks. I’ll grow it out more often. Just for you.”
The young man reaches up and grips over his chest in fake passion, face contorted into a wistful expression. “That’s all I ask.”
The pair break into childish giggles and the sensation of Harry rubbing across the top of her hand is starting to make her head fuzzy. “What about yours? What was your favorite?”
Harry mulls over his own topic for a few seconds, lips puckering in thought as his eyes narrow pensively. The comically adorable picture makes Y/N’s heart skip.
“I think…” Harry lists his gaze downwards back onto his patiently-awaiting friend, lips spreading into his patented dazzling smile. “I think it was probably the Hamilton reenactment.”
Y/N brows jump, mood slightly unconvinced. “Really?”
The vampire nods confidently, his own eyebrows inching upwards, voice amused. “Why is that so hard to believe?”
Y/N shrugs offhandedly, glimpsing down at where the ridges of his thumb are delivering soothing shots of bliss into her veins. “You’re just so...y’know...you… so I guess I just expected you’d have a preference for the more…” She chooses her next words carefully, not wanting to be so brazen with the risk of someone overhearing, “...intimate parts of the weekend.”
“Wow, okay. Just call me a whore to my face, then. That’s fine.”
Y/N throws her free hand upwards in a fist, slugging Harry on the shoulder with appalled shock overtaking her features. His boyish chuckles echo off the walls of the building as she whips her head around to make sure no one had witnessed his dirty bluntness. “You know what I mean!”
“Yeah.” He purposefully raises his voice, nearly shouting the following sentence just to get on her nerves. “You’re slut-shaming me!”
Y/N surges forward, trying to clamp her hand over his mouth and save herself the embarrassment. “Harry, shut up!”
He easily fights her off, his supernatural strength beating hers tenfold. She ends up wrapped in his embrace, flushed against his hard chest as he sticks his tongue out at her mockingly. He drops his tone back down to normal, his two front teeth digging into his lower lip to keep more laughter from bubbling over. “That’s not nice. You should stop conforming to society’s outdated ‘sex is taboo’ narrative.”
“I wasn’t—” Y/N starts insistently, but then she realizes she’s become almost as loud as him so she forces her voice to taper into an alarmed hiss instead. “I wasn’t slut-shaming you! I was simply expressing—”
“You just see me as a toy, don’t you?” The creature cuts her off, lips dipping downwards into a glorified frown. He proceeds to bat his lashes and sniffle, packing as many theatrics as possible into his mopey act. “I have feelings, y’know? My big dick and cunnilingus skills aren’t my only redeeming qualities! You should be ashamed of yourself for objectifying me like that.”
Y/N presses her lips together to ward off an immature grin, rattling her head to get herself under control. She gives him a stern look, warning him to cut it out. “Stop being a child.”
“Stop using me for sex and making derogatory assumptions about my promiscuity.”
“Oh, hop of it! You use me right back. It’s mutual.”
“Which is why the slut-shaming is such a paradox.”
“For fuck’s sake, I wasn’t fucking— You know what? You can’t even pin me on the objectification part because you do it to me all the time!”
“Oh, is that so?” Harry prods with a humorous tilt of his head, squeezing at her love handles and swimming in the way she wriggles around. “Elaborate.”
“When you slapped my ass in the shower. Or when you put your hand under my shirt to play with my chest while we watch TV.” Y/N debates, poking at the thorax of his butterfly tattoo. “Very objectifying, if you ask me.”
“Mm, not quite, darling.” The vampire shakes his head and draws her closer, ducking down to flirt the tip of his nose along the slope of hers. “There’s a difference.”
“Oh, yeah?” She digs her nails into his pectorals, discreetly savoring the strong muscles. “What is it?”
Harry glimpses down at where she’s carving indents into his flesh, enjoying the minute pain more than he should. He drifts his mouth closer towards her ear, inhaling the scent of his shampoo wafting from her silky strands of hair. “The difference is that you’re usually begging me to do all those things.”
Y/N’s teeth grind in begrudging defeat, her spine giving a surrendered shiver at his crude point. “Whatever.”
Harry releases her body, haughty victory written all over his posture. “I rest my case.”
Y/N’s pride blazes, a threat falling from her tongue sharply, but it holds no true intentions. “Maybe I should just stop asking you to, then.”
“You won’t.” The boy sighs airily, tapping his bare foot against the ground without a care in the world. “You like me too much.”
“Even if I like you, I’d have enough dignity to stop seeing you if I wanted.” Y/N huffs, making a face at him to emphasize her stance. “It’s this little thing called ‘willpower.’”
“Yeah, well, we both know you and your willpower are gonna end up texting my number Friday night, asking me to come over for some more interior design advice.” Harry snarkily dismisses, presenting a scenario where he’s holding an invisible phone in his hands, pretending to tap out a message. His voice comes out high-pitched, mimicking her own. “Hey, one of the rungs on my headboard came loose. Can you come help me fix it?”
Y/N stares at him with eyes half-lidded in pettiness. “I don’t sound like that.”
“You’re right. You’re a tad more nasally.”
“Asshole.”
“I’m just calling it like I see it, love.”
Y/N socks him on the shoulder again as retribution, though it barely has an impact.
After a couple heartbeats full of vengeful silence, Y/N chimes up with a jesting tone, though the manner in which she’s picking at her nails tells Harry she’s slightly anxious. “Hypothetically speaking, if I were to send out a text inviting you to come over Friday...would you?”
A lopsided simper pops the immortal’s dimples awake. He shifts on his feet, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. “Hypothetically speaking, I think I could very well make it.”
Y/N chews on her lower lip as the apples of her cheeks jolt. “Ok, well...Let’s say— once again, hypothetically— that I should be home by eight that day. Would that work for you?”
Harry cocks his head from side to side as if churning the offer around his mind. “I think that, hypothetically, that fits right into my schedule.”
The human’s belly flops in giddy excitement. “Great. It’s booked, then. Hypothetically speaking, of course.”
“Of course.” Harry agrees, the reply accompanied by a teasing furrow of his sculpted brows and a curt nod.
Y/N clasps her hands in front of her thighs with finality, giving him a bright smile. “Alright, then. I’ll see you next week.”
“Next week.” Harry confirms with a cheeky wink, running his tongue along his top teeth to keep from bursting into giggles. “Hypothetically.”
“Hypothetically.” Y/N states with a slight bow of her head, tucking one hand into the back pocket of her dark jeans as she takes a step back from the front door with a small wave. She turns on her heel to face the elevator at the other end of the hall, her foot lifting to take the first step towards the exit.
“Wait.”
The mortal looks back towards her friend, eyebrows poised in question.
Harry scratches at the nape of his neck, smiling softly. “I could really go for a goodbye kiss. Not-so-hypothetically.”
Y/N blinks at him in wonder. He’s never asked for one before.
The awkward aura that quickly fills the space between them becomes suffocating. He considers the option of telling her he was just joking to spare himself the humiliation, but he doesn’t get the chance. Y/N lurches forward, teetering onto the tips of her toes and buttoning her lips to his. The spontaneous action makes him swallow his words.
He fumbles to cup her jaw, kissing her back with just as much fervor and feeling the coldness of his skin fizzle away under her inherent warmth. The gesture isn’t sexual or desperate, but simply sweet and fulfilling. He enjoys it, though it’s not surprising given that he enjoys her lips touching him in any and every way imaginable. He’s not exactly sure why he’d made this particular request— it’s very out of character for him, in every sense of the phrase— but he deduces it’s likely because he wants one more thing to cling onto until he gets to feel her mouth again. It’s not uncommon to want a little something extra to get through the tougher nights, so it’s truly not that big of an occurrence. It’s only reasonable.
Y/N breaks their exchange, eyes glassy and so beautifully clear as she pecks his chin one last time in a polite farewell. “Text me if you need me...And especially if you need me.”
Harry gulps thickly at the suggestive statement, nodding numbly as her body heat slips away. “Will do. Thanks. And thanks for the kiss. Needed it to tide me over until Friday.”
“My pleasure. See you later, Holmes.”
Harry waits patiently until Y/N’s figure disappears behind the gilded doors of the fancy elevator, watching the closed slates of metal glint coldly under the blurry lighting of the condominium’s corridor. He walks back into his apartment, shutting the door gently and slouching into the plush cushions of his leather sofa with a detached sigh. He gazes up at his extravagant chandeliers, once again left in the empty solitude he’d grown so fond of in his extensive lifetime. There’s not a single sound or motion invading his seclusion, not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his rug, and everything is so still and quiet, it’s almost deafening. But despite every aspect being as it should, he can’t shake the sensation that something is off. Something is wrong. Something’s missing.
And for the first time in years, he finds himself feeling more lonely than alone.
///
It only takes Harry about an hour of uneventful isolation to realize he’s made a grave mistake.
He should have gone on the trip.
Despite the fact that the vampire lives alone, he very rarely spends any time without seeing his friends. Since they all reside in the same building, it’s fairly easy for him to find some entertainment whenever boredom strikes. He’ll either go up a floor to Mitch’s place to watch a movie or mess around with his collection of vintage guitars, or he’ll go a level below to visit Adam and talk about any new art exhibits opening up around the area. He could visit Niall three floors above to play some FIFA on his gaming console and share porn recommendations, or even take the elevator to the twelfth floor to bother Xander and talk some shit while they do each other’s nails. And if Harry’s feeling extra needy for attention, he could always just invite them all over to his place so the group could go out for some Thai food at the restaurant down the street, or go see a movie at the cinema, or take a ride to their favorite local bar.
No matter the circumstances, his friends are always readily available for him when he needs them, so he very solemnly spends his days alone. That is, until now.
The entire crew had left for the Vegas trip and— as a result of his own irresponsibility and immature hormones— had left him all by himself for the next seven days. He would never admit it aloud to spare himself the ridicule of being overly sappy, but he misses the group. He misses Mitch’s soft voice and quiet wittiness, and he misses Adam’s cheeky banter and random fun facts, and he misses Niall’s inappropriate jokes and boisterous laughter, and he even misses Xander’s annoying digs and childish pettiness. He didn’t know how much he took it all for granted until it was gone.
For the rest of the week, Harry is practically miserable. The guys don’t text him much, which can be expected since the whole point of the holiday is to enjoy every second of it; there would be no point in traveling four hours just to sit in their hotel and message him. He talks to Y/N a bit, but she is also occupied most of the time with work, given that she had to take on a few extra shifts on behalf of her co-workers. The earliest she goes in is six A.M., the latest she comes out is nine P.M., and by then, Harry reckons she’s probably falling asleep in the entrance corridor of her home. He understands her exhaustion and therefore doesn’t expect her to humor him; it wouldn’t be fair.
With everyone in his life busy and with his flat feeling colder and emptier than ever, it’s a miracle he doesn’t go mad within its walls. He goes out a handful of times to do some grocery shopping, for a run around a nearby park, and to take a walk along his favorite mall, but that’s it, really. He doesn’t go out to eat simply because he thinks it would be embarrassing having to sit alone at a restaurant; it’s pitiful and sad and he’s not going to subject himself to that. The most stimulating social interaction he has that week is a tie between a bit of flirting with a Target cashier, some suggestive gazing exchanged with a Starbucks barista, and a couple of cheeky caresses from a Gucci store employee taken while measuring his waist for a custom order. None of it satisfies him the way it normally does, though, and he can’t place why.
By the time Friday evening rolls around, Harry is a hair short from letting his regular case of stir-crazy slip into a full-on psychotic break. That’s why he ends up at Y/N’s complex earlier than the agreed-upon hour, stepping out of his Cadillac with twenty minutes left to spare and with a certain desperation eating away at the back of his skull.
The creature casually jogs up the worn steps to her floor, the only sound being the heels of his maroon velvet boots clicking against the cement ground. He whistles softly to the vague tune of a new pop song that had been playing on the radio— Wet Ass something?— as he tucks his phone into his pocket and brushes a few traces of lint off his freshly-ironed button-up.
His outfit for tonight is nothing too spectacular, but it isn’t too lazy, either. It’s a long-sleeve black silk shirt with glass buttons and a pair of large swallows embroidered along either sides of his chest, the threads dyed royal and pastel blue, cherry red, and creamy yellow. The top is cuffed up his elbows and unbuttoned down to his butterfly tattoo, showing off his naturally tanned skin and matching swallow inkings, the cross on his delicate chain centered between his pecs and twinkling under the flickering lights. He’d coupled the loose blouse with some black skinny jeans, a dark leather belt, a small golden hoop earring, and his trusty collection of rings and necklaces. In his opinion, it’s a proper look for a planned-out booty call. Formal, but easy to rip off. Especially in a blind hurry.
Harry figures that he’ll check to see if Y/N is home, just to cover the bases. If she isn’t, he’ll tred back down the stairs and wait for her in his car. If she is, then that’s all the better; there’s no damage in starting a bit earlier than scheduled. It makes for a better recoup period between rounds.
The immortal turns the corner into the familiar hallway where Y/N’s flat is located, one of his hands already forming into a loose fist with the intention of knocking on her door. He makes it about five paces before he’s slapped with an image that causes him to stop cold in his tracks, his whistling coming to an abrupt halt.
Harry blinks repeatedly and lowers the frame of his pink Gucci sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, wanting to make sure the scene before him isn’t a figment of his imagination. Much to his displeasure, it isn’t.
About three meters ahead, situated right in front of her door with her back facing towards him, is Y/N. That isn’t the odd aspect of the picture, though. What’s odd is that her usual grimy work attire is missing, which he had expected to see given that he knows she always goes to the cafe on Fridays. Instead, she is clad in the pastel blue floral sundress she had worn for him all those weeks back, when they had slept together for the second time. And instead of wearing her scuffed up Vans, she is wearing a pair of pretty tan sandals. And instead of having her hair up in a frizzy ponytail, it’s down and fanned around her shoulders in a glossy sheen of tousled curls. And she’s wearing perfume— the same one she had worn the night they met. He can smell it from here and it makes his brows furrow in confusion. She never wears perfume to work; she says it’s forbidden since it can make customers nauseous.
But aside from all of those unorthodox details, there is one specific factor above all that throws Harry for the biggest loop he’s encountered in the last five weeks of knowing her.
Y/N isn’t alone. She’s accompanied by another man.
Harry gives the stranger a calculating once-over, taking in every aspect of the boy’s appearance. He has to keep himself from sputtering into laughter. This has to be some type of fucking joke.
The bloke is fit, he’ll give him that, at least. He’s handsome and somewhat muscular, but in a manner that is painfully cliche and utterly boring. He has sandy blonde hair that falls across his forehead in a shaggy sideways bang, eyes the color of a Malibu beach, and generally soft features with the exception of decent cheekbones. He’s wearing a dull orange polo, khaki pants, Levi sneakers, and an annoyingly giant watch on his wrist that gives the impression he’s trying to show off. Harry nearly vomits in his mouth.
Who the fuck would wear a polo willingly? And how brain dead does he have to be to think khakis are still in style? His fashion sense is obviously stunted. It appears his brain is stuck in his middle school phase, when the Justin Bieber haircut and douchey brands were all the rave amongst snotty pre-teens. Also, his watch is an embarrassment. Harry doesn’t know what the guy is attempting— and failing— to show off, considering the accessory is chunky and ugly and not even Versace or Rolex. It’s a disgrace.
As if the forced posh demeanor isn’t enough, the imbecile actually has the guts to have a fake tan. The vampire isn’t surprised, unfortunately, given that eighty percent of all Los Angeles residents think it’s acceptable to dip-dye themselves into a carrot. He faintly wonders if the man’s balls are colored, as well, or if his ass and sack are as pale as his personality probably is. That would be quite the comedic sight either way. Creamsicles for the win, he supposes.
Harry may not be alarmed by the blonde boy’s get-up, but he is disgusted. Thoroughly disgusted. Horrifically disgusted. What is Y/N doing with this moron?
According to what he’s gathered from her personality and the pillow talks they often share, she hates the California stereotype almost as much as he does, if not more. She hates the fake tans and bleached hair and lack of conscience. She hates the outdated teenage brands, cringey jewelry, and fraternity member aesthetic. She especially hates the fact that some of these people don’t understand the basic principles of boundaries. And the thing is, this dude-bro of a man definitely ticks all of those boxes— especially with how close he’s standing next to her, looming above her frame with one arm extended against the surface of her door, trying to look nonchalant and cool as he drawls on about whatever topic they’re discussing.
He’s practically the poster child for everything the girl despises, from the straightened hair to the alter boy church pants to the stupid forest tattoo on his forearm. So what in the flying fuck is she doing entertaining him? What is she doing standing outside her apartment with this trashy, bacon strip-looking, youth leader knock-off, 2012 Bieber impersonator of a human?
It has to be a joke. It just has to. There’s no other valid explanation, except maybe a plea of insanity.
Harry doesn’t realize he’s scowling until the stranger makes eye contact with him. The boy’s face breaks into an expression of unsettled discomfort at the way the vampire is peering at him over his sunglasses, allowing his end of the conversation to falter to dust. Y/N’s brows cinch at the occurrence, her attention peeling away to follow where her date’s had wandered.
The second her gaze locks with Harry’s intense own, she feels her heart drop to her stomach. Fuck.
Let it be known Y/N didn’t want this. She didn’t want to go on a date with Jacob. In fact, she didn’t know who Jacob was until halfway through this week and she honestly wishes it had stayed that way. She wishes she hadn’t picked up Melissa’s shift with Isabel, she wishes she hadn’t offered to wait that extra table in the back out of the kindness in her heart, and she wishes she hadn’t caught the attention of the customer inhabiting it.
As it turns out, the young man was Isabel’s cousin. He had come to pick her up since the girl’s car had been stuck at the shop for the last few days, and he had arrived a bit earlier than intended, deciding to sit at the back table to wait out the final ten minutes of his relative’s shift. Y/N had simply assumed that he was a regular customer, so she had gone to give him the usual trained introduction in order to follow the golden rule of customer service: Don’t keep a guest waiting.
Jacob had explained the situation to Y/N, to which she responded with a light laugh and an instinctive apology. She had told him she’d go fetch Isabel for him and bid the boy goodbye. In her rational opinion, she had thought that would be it— a simple crossing of two paths that would likely never cross again— but evidently, the visitor had a very different idea.
The human’s shift had continued as planned and everything had been going great until Isabel ducked into the kitchen right before leaving, dancing her way across the room and poking her coworker playfully in the tummy. Apparently, from what Isabel had giddily told her, Jacob had taken an interest in Y/N. It was a bit ridiculous, if you asked her, considering they’d only talked for a total of about thirty seconds before parting routes. But Y/N hadn’t voiced that opinion; she didn’t want to come off as rude.
Jacob had asked his cousin to set them up on a date and that is why Isabel had gone into the back before leaving. Y/N’s immediate impulse had been to decline. She wasn’t interested in seeing anyone at the moment. Other than Harry, of course. He handled all her needs just fine and they got on so well, she’d be crazy to replace him with some random guy she barely knew. She had gone to express this to Isabel in a gentler manner with an apologetic tone, but the words had ended up lodging in her throat. The girl had stared at Y/N with so much excitement, she’d immediately felt a wave of guilt erupt into her chest.
She found it difficult to refuse, given that turning down the offer might come off as bitchy and insensitive. Here Isabel was, trying to innocently play match-maker on behalf of someone she cared about, buzzing with glee and smiling at her so big, her cheeks probably hurt. The last thing Y/N wanted was to upset her by basically telling her that Jacob wasn’t up to par with her standards. Rejecting him could be something her acquaintance took personally and Y/N didn’t want to have to deal with drama in the workplace, especially not with someone whose shifts often mirror her own.
Y/N had reluctantly agreed to the invitation, her only request being that she had to be home by seven thirty. That would give her enough time to prepare for Harry’s visit.
Her compliance had landed her where she is now, standing in front of her apartment door with a boy she has no interest in.
It had been a terrible date, though Jacob took no notice of that. He spent the entire dinner talking about himself, going on and on about his college years, and about how he works at a popular surf shop and could probably get her discounted lessons, and about how he doesn’t think he could survive without his Jeep. How he plays guitar and wants to be a famous actor, how he doesn’t understand why people dislike fake tanning, and how his dad owns a country club in South Carolina. How he loves sports, how he thinks museums are dumb, and how he likes girls who are willing to cook for him after they hookup. How he loves going clubbing and that he misses his ex.
Y/N had nearly groaned out loud at the last two.
It was cruel and unusual torture, in all honestly, and Y/N is just glad it’s over. She’d fulfilled her role— she’d even been nice enough to dress up, to at least finge interest— and could now go free, never having to hear another word about surfboard wax or college football ever again. If only he’d fucking leave.
Jacob had insisted on walking her to the door, which would be sweet if she hadn’t developed a burning hatred for him in the last hour. It came off as annoying and pushy instead, but she allowed it on the grounds of maintaining a polite front.
She shouldn’t have allowed it. As soon as they’d gotten to her door, he’d started talking all over again and Y/N had no choice but to stand there and listen. She couldn’t go anywhere, given that this is her place and she’s expecting someone. She figured she’d give him until seven fifty and then make up an excuse about having to go to the bathroom in order to get him to piss off. That plan had crumbled when Harry had shown up twenty minutes early.
The look of inflamed shock that poses Harry’s handsome features makes her stomach curdle.
She hadn’t meant for him to see this. She’d only gone on the date to spare herself some petty trouble with a coworker. Nothing was bound to come of it, other than a free meal and a guilt-free conscience. It didn’t mean anything and she had no intention of letting it get in between what she and Harry have going. But from an outside perspective, she knows it looks much different.
The agreement they have isn’t exclusive by any means, but over the last five weeks, the pair have grown pretty comfortable with one another and had given connotations that they weren’t kindling other possible relationships. There’s a type of silent agreement between them that if they were to seek out other people, they would share that information with each other on the grounds of courtesy, friendship, and respect. But Y/N hadn’t said a word to spare him the baseless stress and now he’d run into her smack in the middle of what appears to be a very compromising situation; things aren’t looking good at all. It looks like she’s losing interest in Harry and couldn’t be bothered to tell him. It looks like she’s out for a replacement. It looks like she doesn’t care about their connection at all.
This is bad. This is really bad.
Y/N’s voice comes out as a shrill shriek of surprise, her body turning abruptly to fully face his rigid own. “Harry! Uh— hi!”
Harry blinks at her emptily for a moment and she can practically see the gears turning in his head. She can’t read his mind or his expression, but she reckons he’s probably trying to decide if he should follow through on their rendezvous or if he should just leave and never talk to her again. The idea of him choosing the latter makes her mouth go sour.
The vampire’s emerald irises flit back and forth between his friend and the unknown man behind her, trying to interpret the tone and texture of the circumstance. She’s obviously on a date, if her appearance is any indication, and it’s obviously coming to a close right now, exactly when he’s scheduled to arrive.
That’s the determining factor that helps him decide his next move.
Y/N had invited Harry over last Sunday, meaning that she had made their commitment first. This date had to have come into play later in the week, and she had purposefully planned it around their agreed hour in order to give him her undivided attention when the time came. If she had gone out with this guy and then rushed back home to get to him, that must mean she doesn’t plan on indulging another meeting with the stranger. She hadn’t cancelled his visit, either, so that also suggests she isn’t truly interested in this bloke. That makes sense...right?
But that still begs the question: Why had she gone out with him in the first place?
He knows he isn’t owed an explanation, but he also knows that Y/N isn’t the type of person who would just blindside him like this. She isn’t soulless— she’s sweet and caring and generous, so she would never drop him without any warning or consideration for his feelings. She’d never abandon him without telling him why. She’d never do anything that might run a chance of hurting him.
The immortal is more than aware he doesn’t have the right to be upset about it, either. Their arrangement is loose and open on both ends and he likes it that way. He likes that their relationship isn’t weighed down by commitment and monogamy; it gives him a sense of freedom and independence he’s known to thrive off of. It lets him be himself without playing her emotions, and without causing a ruckus in the plans she has for her new life. And he gets the same in return— he gets to have his needs attended without sacrificing his core beliefs. Their friends with benefits trope rides along the wings of an official bond, only giving them what they want and nothing they don’t, which is how it was meant to be. How it should be.
So why does seeing her with someone else make him feel sick to his stomach?
Harry shakes off the ball of contempt writhing in his chest, clearing the tightness from his throat and molding his expression into a facade of calm indifference. Jealousy is for idiots.
The vampire fully wraps his perched fingers around the rim of his sunglasses, removing them from the arch of his nose and tucking the shades along the collar of his shirt. He forces his feet to do their job, his lanky legs lurching forward and falling into a casual stride as he walks towards the two humans awaiting a response.
Harry comes to a stop beside the mortals, clasping his bejeweled hands behind his back and plastering a dazzling grin across his cheeks. He regards his friend with a slight bow of his head, voice airy and carefree as ever. “Hey, Y/N.”
She almost faints in relief. Thank God he’s not mad.
Y/N returns his smile, shoulders visibly relaxing. “It’s nice to see you.”
“S’nice to see you, too. Always such a…” He pauses, licking at the corner of his lips suggestively, giving her a knowing once-over that only she can interpret, “pleasure.”
The girl ignores the heat that immediately floods her cheeks. Of course he’s doing this in front of Jacob. Of course he’s peacocking. “Likewise.”
Harry trains his attention onto the young man before him, pursing his lips into a polite smile. As polite as he can muster, anyways. “And who’s this?”
Y/N blinks herself back into the present, quickly glancing away from Harry’s sharp jaw, though it doesn’t go unnoticed. He feels his ego swell a smidge.
“This is Jacob.” The human comments easily, signaling to him with an upturned palm. “He’s Isabel’s cousin. You remember Isabel, right? You met her at the club.”
“I don’t think I do, actually.” Harry murmurs, glimpsing up towards the ceiling to suggest he’s wracking his thoughts. He has a very vague recollection of the two girls he’d momentarily encountered the day he’d first met Y/N, but it’s hazy and unimportant.
He looks back down at her with sparkling irises, rosy lips twitching with amusement at his next words, knowing they’re going to have a favorable impact. “I guess I was just too distracted by you to pay much attention to anyone else.”
He can hear more blood rush into her face and the ecstasy it brings him is immeasurable. He cranes his sight back onto Jacob, who has the slightest crease in his brows at Harry’s compliment. Good. That’s exactly what he wanted.
The monster unclamps his hands and juts one out stiffly towards the mortal. “M’Harry. Good to meet you, mate.”
Jacob returns the gesture, grasping Harry’s hand firmly in a way the vampire knows is to try and establish dominance. It tickles him when humans try to be tough, especially because Harry could tear his arm right out of its socket as easily as he could lift a sheet of paper. The creature tightens his grip to match the man’s, purposefully putting a tad more strength in to make a silent point. He has to withhold the urge to crunch the boy’s fingers to dust.
They both release from the exchange and a wave of dark satisfaction trickles into Harry’s bones when he sees Jacob curl and stretch his digits in mild pain.
Y/N watches the whole scene with a breath trapped in her lungs. This feels surreal.
The blonde clears his throat softly, mouth jilting into an empty smile and it’s obvious he’s only doing it just to keep things civil. “Good to meet you, too. I take it you’re British?”
“Pure-bred.” Harry remarks proudly, shrugging his shoulders offhandedly as if it’s no big deal. His gaze slinks towards Y/N for a second, tongue pushing along the inside of his cheek smugly. “It works wonders with the ladies.”
A flicker of spite stains the blue in Jacob’s eyes and the vampire feels like his soul is ascending. This is fun.
“I can only imagine.” His opponent responds, voice somewhat strained as he directs his next question to the two friends. “So how do you know each other?��
Harry opens his mouth to make an arrogant comment along the lines of, “A club. A few drinks. Some amazing sex. Y’know, the usual.” but Y/N knows him well enough that she anticipates it, speaking over him loudly before he can even get a syllable out.
“We met at a club and hit it off really well. Been friends ever since.”
The immortal has to keep himself from adding something snarky to the end of her summary. He only does it because he can see a sharp warning flash across Y/N’s eyes. It’s wordless, but stern nonetheless: Don’t.
Harry swallows down his dig and feels it burn a hole in his stomach. Why is she protecting his feelings?
In all honesty, Y/N is only doing it out of kindness and nothing else. As annoying as Jacob may be, he doesn’t deserve to be embarrassed simply because Harry wants to feed his pride. It may be funny, but it’s pretty immature.
“Right.” Harry sighs happily, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Friends. Good friends. Close friends. Intimate friends.”
Y/N presses her lips into a straight line to keep herself in check. He’s trying to work her over and, unfortunately, he’s succeeding.
“That’s nice.” Jacob nods casually, the innuendo luckily going right over his head.
“Yeah, it is.” Harry states, eyes glinting mischievously as he quickly studies the man once again. He can’t help himself, he truly can’t. Not when this terribly-styled buffoon makes it so fucking easy. “I like your tan, by the way.”
The human looks down at his arms for significance, eyes brightening. “Thank you! I got it done at that new place in—”
“Yeah, it’s pretty neat. Looks almost real.”
Jacob blinks blankly at the backhanded compliment. “Oh—?”
“I mean, it’s got a few streaks here and there and your left arm looks a little more orange, but I think—”
“Anyways!” Y/N swiftly cuts in, interrupting her friend’s judgmental spiel and directing her attention towards her date. “Harry and I were actually planning on going to see a movie, which is why I had to be home by seven-thirty— we do it every Friday. And the movie starts at eight and traffic’s a bitch, so that’s why I was in such a hurry to get home.”
Jacob nods slowly, giving her a sweet, understanding smile that makes Harry’s supernatural blood boil. “I see. Well, I—”
The vampire interrupts him once again, condescension flaring in his chest and dancing across the specks of amber surrounding his pupils. “Yeah, Y/N and I go to the theater every Friday. Recently, we’ve been going to the movies every single day of the weekend. And most times, we see several movies a night.”
Y/N’s jaw clenches at Harry’s barely-veiled insinuation. She tries to talk over him, but he beats her to the punch.
“Y’know what I’m talking about, right, Y/N?” He nudges her side playfully with his elbow, ignoring the way her eyes tell him to cut it out. “Remember that time we saw three movies in one night? Or the one that had the jacuzzi in it?”
The girl glimpses over at Jacob, who looks utterly confused and uncomfortable. “Harry—”
“Or what about that crime film, yeah? The one with the handcuffs.” He pinches at her love handle teasingly, reveling in how her entire torso tenses under his touch. “The one where they grabbed the criminal and slammed them up against the mirror? You have to remember that one. It’s hard to forget.”
“Okay, I think that’s enough talk about—”
“Oh, c’mon, dove.” Harry slings an arm around her shoulders nonchalantly, squeezing her into his body and feeling Jacob’s glare pierce the side of his face. He stares intently into Y/N’s irises, dimples winking awake at the needy desperation gradually inking its way into their reflection. His tone comes out soft but heavy with authoritative suggestion— the kind he always uses in bed. “Tell me you remember.”
Y/N gulps quietly, mumbling her words begrudgingly. “Yeah, I...I remember.”
A coy hum runs along the back of the vampire’s throat as he licks across his top teeth slyly. “I think that was your favorite one, wasn’t it? You seemed to have really enjoyed it. Like, properly enjoyed it. Loved every single second, if I recall correctly.”
The human forces herself to cast her intent elsewhere, ears simmering and breathing stuttering ever so slightly. Her sight lands back onto a very frazzled Jacob, who is looking at the pair as if they’d sprouted horns, shifting unsurely across his feet. The expression of innocent befuddlement on his face makes guilt twist into her heart.
The mortal roughly shrugs off Harry’s arm, stepping forward and placing a palm on Jacob’s wrist, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you so much for the date. It was...nice.”
Harry’s fists clench at his sides, though the action goes unnoticed.
The human boy nods giddily at Y/N, glancing down to where she’s touching him so tenderly. “‘Course! I had a great time, too.”
“Make sure to tell Isabel that. Maybe it’ll get her to do some sweeping on my behalf.” The girl jokes, giggling softly right along with the stranger.
Harry can feel his nails threatening to break into his skin.
“We really have to get going, though, so I guess I’ll see you around?” Y/N prods, gifting her date one last beautiful smile to ease the awkwardness that had settled into the atmosphere, courtesy of Harry’s antics.
“Sure!” Jacob bobs his head in agreement, pulling out his phone and swaying it symbolically. “You have my number, just text me whenever.”
“Sounds good.”
Once the young man’s footsteps have faded down the complex’s staircase, Y/N swivels around on her heel to face Harry, arms falling across her chest in an irritated fashion. Her face pinches with annoyance as he leans casually against her door, his own arms folding over his strong chest with his fingers tapping along the inside of his elbows, attitude depicting not a single care in the world.
He crosses his ankles easily, brows quirking at the way she’s blatantly glaring at him. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that people whose names start with a letter ‘J’ are bound to ruin your life?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry!” Y/N snaps, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling as her glossed lips dip into an aggravated grimace. “Are you serious right now?”
He tilts his head curiously, stifling a simper. “What’s wrong, love?”
“What’s wrong?” She retorts with a humorless laugh, astonished at his ability to act so purposefully dense. “You’re a fucking dick, that’s what’s wrong.”
The vampire sputters into a round of boyish cackling, his entire body shaking against the surface below him as his eyes crinkle shut in mirth. Y/N would be further infuriated if it wasn’t so damn cute.
Harry’s laughter slowly dies down and once he has himself composed, his shoulders rise and fall once dismissively. “I was just fucking around. I didn’t think much of it.”
“You didn’t think—?” Y/N chokes out in indignation, stomping over to him and poking him straight in the chest, right over his butterfly tattoo. Her perfume makes his mind swim in the best way imaginable. “You didn’t think for a second, in that big head of yours, that talking about our sex life in front of my date was overstepping?”
Hearing Y/N officially refer to Jacob as her date makes Harry’s mood drop somberly. He tries to push it down and keep up a comical edge, but it’s harder than he’d care to admit. His accent comes out small and almost fragile, much to her surprise. “Well, I didn’t know you were on a date. Maybe if you had told me, I wouldn’t have come.”
His words sting for some unknown reason.
The mortal draws closer to him until he’s hovering above her, arms dropping down to her sides to fiddle with the hem of her dress as she tilts her chin upwards to get a better look at his stoney face. All anger melts right out of her voice, replaced by her usual delicate cadence. “Well, I...I didn’t think you’d care, really.”
“I don’t.” He replies a little too quickly, a small pang of regret pricking his chest when her face immediately falls. “I mean...I mean it as in, like...I’m not keeping tabs on you or anything. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to limit you.”
Y/N looks back up at him from under her lashes, tone unreadable. “I didn’t think you were. Limiting me, that is. You don’t...limit me.”
Harry nods his head sharply in relieved confirmation, coughing a bit. His throat feels drier than usual and he knows it’s not for a blood-driven reason. “Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure you knew.”
“I do.”
“Alright.”
A charged silence befalls the ambiance between them and the vampire comes to the conclusion that getting his neck snapped was less painful than having this conversation. At least that was quick, whereas this is grueling and horribly uncomfortable, ridden with anxiety and too many elongated pauses. They are walking on extremely thin eggshells around one another, which is something they’ve never had to do before. They have always been on the same wavelength about their relationship and not once has such a nerve-inducing instance come to pass. Now a wrench has been thrown into their metaphorical mechanism and the nuts and bolts are dismantling by the handfuls, leaving them barren and closed-off more than ever. He can feel this situation straining their friendship and he hates it more than he hates those stupid tapestries she fancies.
“If you knew you were gonna be busy,” Harry starts carefully, gluing his attention to a random stain on the cement ground as he scuffs the heel of his boot against her dirty welcome mat, “why didn’t you just text me and cancel?”
Y/N takes a shaky inhale, focusing on tracing the faded cursive letters on her rug. “I...I still wanted you to come.”
Harry’s foot halts its motions, gaze jumping to her for a thoughtful second, brows knotting with mild confusion at her confession. If she still wants him in her bed, why was she indulging someone else? “You wanted me to come?...Why?”
“Because Fridays are our days.”
The corners of his mouth twitch. Our days. Their days. Theirs.
The brunette clears his throat to try and saw away at the tension, shifting against the door as the subject delves into heavier territory. He’s never been one to stutter— he’s much too confident in himself to ever have that issue— but it seems to have become a new development whenever Y/N is around. “If...If you want— uhm...If you want to see other people, you obviously don’t need my permission or anything. But I’d like a little heads-up, just so I know where we stand.”
Y/N releases a curt sigh of exasperation and somehow, Harry can tell it’s not aimed towards him. It’s aimed towards herself.
She fidgets with the tips of her fingers, talking to the floor but directing her message towards her friend. “It’s not what you think, H.”
Harry pins his intent back onto her face, intrigue fully peaked. “What do you mean?”
Y/N takes another trembling breath, releasing it through her nose as a tired exhale. She can feel him looming over her, waiting for an appropriate response with his lips set into a detached line, his ever-present aroma of vanilla and tobacco muddling her thoughts. “I...I mean the date. It wasn’t truly a real date, per se.”
The vampire’s eyes bore into her relentlessly as he clings onto every syllable she speaks. He’s clutching to a form of hope that he deems absolutely humiliating. “How so?”
Y/N picks at the chipping lavender polish on her nails and he finds it adorable how the color of the lacquer matches one of the main notes in her scent.
She speaks up softly and honestly, and he thinks he detects a shred of guilt to her explanation. “Isabel was the one who set it up. Her cousin came into the cafe and when he saw me, he asked her to get me to go on a date with him. I have no actual interest in Jacob, but I said yes just to be nice. I didn’t wanna upset Isabel by making her think her cousin wasn’t good enough for me or something. That’s the only reason I went.”
Harry slowly twists his lionhead daylight ring around his middle finger, simultaneously thumbing over the opal on his pinky. The stone is cold to the touch, but not nearly as cold as his skin.
He reiterates her story slowly, wanting to make sure he interpreted correctly. “So...you only went on the date because you felt bad? You don't actually like him?”
Y/N’s hands plop down against her thighs as she tilts her head back up to look at him, her tone and eyes completely deadpan. “Well, when you say it like that, it makes me sound kind of mean.”
Harry snorts softly, mouth buckling into his signature crooked smirk. “It’s pretty cruel, to be honest— giving that poor bloke hope like that. Very malicious of you.”
Y/N kicks at his ankle jokingly, her lips toying with a grin. “Shut up.”
“You should be careful. Something tells me his ego bruises easily.”
“Oh, is that so? What makes you say that?”
The vampire sucks at his teeth, tapping his chin in faux thought as he shrugs his brows tauntingly. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably the overly-tight shirt and fraternity ring. Seems to me like he’s trying to make up for something he lacks. Probably in the intimacy department.”
Y/N chews along her cheek to keep from bursting into giggles. “You are cruel.”
“I prefer the term ‘brutally honest.’ Sounds classier.”
“Right. Because you’re all about class.”
“Heyyyy!” Harry whines in exaggerated insult, face contorting with dramatic offense. “I’m a classy guy! I have the English accent and fancy chandeliers to prove it!”
“Right. Super classy.”
“I’m a proper gentleman.” The monster huffs with begrudging finality, irises glitzing deviously. “That is, until you beg me to behave otherwise.”
“Fuck off.”
He looks down at her over the crests of his sharp cheekbones as she gazes up at him with a humorously flat expression, feeling all the pent-up stress from the previous events dissolve away into nothing. Harry reaches forward, taking a single curled strand of her hair and moving it behind her shoulder to get a better look at her face. The gesture makes Y/N’s heartbeat hiccup. Especially when that same forefinger ends up poised below her chin, his thumb distractedly caressing across her jaw.
The creature’s next sentence comes out low and almost vulnerable. “So it meant nothing, then? Are you sure? Because I don’t want to get in the way of your dating life if you—”
“It meant nothing.” Y/N confirms, bobbing her head once insistently. She cradles her cheek into his icy palm, keeping their eyes locked as she gives it a gentle kiss, her insides fluttering when Harry’s breathing hitches. “I’m not gonna be seeing him again anytime soon. Or ever, probably. And that’s why I didn’t mention it to you— because I knew it wouldn’t change anything between us. You’re the only person I’m interested in right now.”
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
The young man swallows thickly, leaning down to smudge his nose across the girl’s and the action erupts a certain flood of warmth so powerful, it could very well kickstart the dead organ below his ribs. His voice is tumbling down his numb tongue before he can think to stop it. “I’ve been thinking about you all week.”
Y/N’s fingers stretch upwards to wrap around his wrist securely, almost as if to tether him and eliminate the chance of his touch slipping away. Her whisper is trembly and raw. “You have?”
Harry knows he’s allowing this to wade into dangerously grey waters, but he can’t find it in himself to care, at the moment. “Yeah. Couldn’t get you out of my head. Couldn’t stop thinking about how good you felt last time.”
The mortal teeters onto the tips of her toes, flirting her mouth over her friend’s, a prickling sensation stemming from where their cupid’s bows brush. She glimpses at him amidst her lashes, glassy eyes reflecting his need right back at him. “Tell me more. Please?”
The breath of Harry’s words is hot against her mouth, his eyes lulling closed as he recalls all of the memories from the last few days. “I just couldn’t shake it. You were just so tight and warm and the way you were pushing back against my thrusts...the way you were shaking and whimpering...the way you flipped around and slammed your mouth to mine because you wanted me to moan onto your tongue….It was so fucking filthy, I just— I couldn’t—”
His control begins to shatter and the immortal can feel desperation leak through the cracks webbing across his composure. Y/N isn’t helping any, considering she’s started suckling lightly at his bottom lip, her free hand coming up to toy with the curls at the nape of his neck.
“Keep going.”
Harry gulps heavily before continuing. “I touched myself while fantasying about you. Lost count of how many times, honestly. But I came so hard every single one. It was pretty easy to lose myself like that, just sitting there thinking about everything we do. Thinking about how pretty you look with my cock in your mouth, taking it down your throat like such a good fucking girl. How nice your arse feels in my hands, especially when you ask me to spank it. How snug you are when you sink over me, stretching around it like it’s made just for you. How the little noises you make sound so fucking perfect— like a song, really. And...and how good you taste between your thighs. S’like honey. Just so fucking sweet.”
There’s a pause as Harry’s words sink into the air, his dirty confessions pulling passion taut into existence between the two lovers. They’re all over each other in less than a heartbeat.
Y/N begins to fumble with the small purse she has strung across her body, frantically fishing for her keys as Harry delights himself with sponging his lips across the slope of her jaw, grinning into her skin at the little curses escaping her throat. He absolutely adores how whipped she gets for him.
The human manages to retrieve her key, jamming it into the lock blindly as her eyes blur with tears of sheer need, stemming from the tiny shots of bliss Harry is instilling through the sloppy pecks he’s trailing down her jugular. She hastily turns the knob, bumping her full weight into the door and nearly fainting in relief when it swings open. She turns sharply to face him, roping her arms around his strong shoulders and pulling him into her, shuddering at how incredible it feels to have his strong torso flushed to hers so intimately. Harry allows himself to be yanked forward into her apartment, giggling softly when she crashes their mouths together messily, harshly tugging him past the threshold.
The vampire’s lean arms wrap around her waist as the young woman maneuvers their connected bodies into the narrow hallway of her flat, one of her hands waving around wildly until it succeeds in shoving the door shut. Y/N slams Harry up against the closest wall, feverishly fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt and nearly ripping them out of their designated holes. Her hands quiver as she races down the seams, her eyes tinging darker when Harry leans his head back against the panel and smirks down at her smugly.
He gnaws on his bottom lip, his half-lidded gaze mocking her hysteria as his voice comes out deep and melodic as always, slathered with self-assured arrogance. “You’re so cute when you’re this eager to fuck me.”
Y/N pants against his twitching lips, tearing his top down his broad figure and shamelessly groping at his swollen biceps. “Just shut up and kiss me.”
Harry abides, lulling his tongue along her upper lip and thrumming deeply when her digits trickle down his abdomen. He coos into her mouth as she begins fiddling with his belt buckle. “What, no interior design emergency this time? You’re losing your touch, darling.”
The girl pulls the leather strap off his pants in a frenzy, scoffing at his stupid quip and breaking their kiss to speckle her mouth down his bare chest, feeling it stutter below her influence. “I got some new chairs for my dining table. Wanna take a look?”
The boy’s fingers card into her roots as she descends down his stomach with wet pecks, his eyes rolling closed with a strained grunt. She bites along his fern inkings and his hips buck forward in response, his grip on her hair tightening when she palms over the outline of his clothed cock. “You know I’m always a sucker for some good dining chairs.”
As it turns out, Y/N had actually gotten some new chairs, much to Harry’s surprise.
They’re nice, in his opinion. They seem sturdy enough, with metal backrests and legs that are covered in tarnished gold paint that gives a pleasing rustic look. But in the end, Harry doesn’t really much care for the details of the furniture. All he cares about is if they’ll manage to withstand Y/N’s weight as he shoves her onto her knees atop the chair and bends her over the back. Or if they’ll stay put as he pounds into her from behind with a fist in her hair and his letter rings marking across her backside. That’s all that truly matters.
Despite having done this countless of times before, this particular instance feels different. Both of them can tell, but Y/N feels it more prevalently. Specifically, in the bottom of her stomach and in the pain sweltering across her ass.
Harry’s just…rougher. He’s still himself, so he makes sure she’s okay with everything he does before doing it, but when he gets the green light, he doesn’t let it go to waste. His grip on her roots is harsh, with his nails digging into her scalp as he jerks her head back to bring her in for a kiss, her spine arching into a semi-circle. The position is difficult given the amount of flexibility required, but Y/N powers through. She quite likes it, actually— it gives him a deeper range of depth, somehow. She can feel him touching the trench of her tummy and she refuses to do anything that might make that stop.
The kiss is upside down, but the vampire doesn’t let that deter him. It’s still dirty and heedless, with lots of biting and overzealous tongues, broken whines and fractured pleas. Y/N freely moans into his mouth, gasping and mewling to his every thrust with a certain type of helplessness that flogs the flames blistering Harry’s dormant veins. He loves that he makes her feel helpless, especially because she makes him feel the exact same way.
His stride is fast and deep and unapologetic— vengeful, almost, and they both know why. Even though Y/N had told the creature that the date had been nothing but a selfless chore, he can’t seem to let it go as easily as she had. He finds himself wanting to prove to her that he’s better than that insipid stranger. That he can give her everything she wants without a single issue. That he can deliver everything she needs with expert skill and relentless force, just as she prefers. That he can make her entire body tremble in overstimulation and make every fiber of her being tingle with sheer pleasure, just by gifting her a few adamant snaps of his hips and by muttering a couple filthy promises onto her unfeeling tongue.
“Bet he wouldn’t be able to make you feel like this, huh, pet?” Harry growls against her swollen lips, plunging his thick length into her and nudging at that sweet spot that makes her toes curl. “Bet he wouldn’t know how to handle you— how to handle that tight cunt and that sharp tongue. Could never take care of you the way I do, isn’t that right, baby?”
Y/N rattles her head in her friend’s grasp, releasing fragmented noises of bliss as he hikes her dress further up her ass and gives it another brutal spank. She can feel his rings imprinting across her sweaty skin and she strives off it more than she should.
Her voice comes out garbled and weak. “N-No one can make me feel as good as you.”
“Damn straight.” Harry grits out, breaking their prolonged kiss to rest his chin against her damp forehead, looking down at her from over his sharp, tinted cheekbones. “Nobody can fuck you into a begging mess like I can. Whose pretty cunt is this, angel? Who’s the only one who gets to call you their little slut?”
The electricity crackling around his pupils is borderlining on unhinged, but she adores it. The fact that she can drive him to the brink like that feeds the affinity she has to win his praise. “It’s yours, Harry. Just yours— it’s always just you. You’re the only one. Nobody e-else— fuck, oh my God!”
“You got all dolled up for him, though. Why’s that’s, hm?” Harry’s hold releases from her hair and fumbles down to her throat, the pads of his fingers leaving bruises across her jugular as he grunts lowly with every hellbent ram. “If you didn’t care, why’d you get all pretty, then? Why’d you wear perfume? And why’d you wear that dress— my dress?”
Y/N’s lashes flutter as he refers to her outfit, which is the same one she’d had on the day they had officially established their loose arrangement. Hearing him call it his— hearing him claim it as his own with so much dominant confidence— makes the pit of her belly froth. It is his. Sure, she’d worn it for the sake of looking presentable, but it was only to satisfy the basic rules of what a date entails. In truth, under the excuse of inherent kindness, she’d worn it because she knew Harry would see it afterwards. Because she knew he liked it. Because she wanted to please him.
The girl communicates that to him now in the form of a feathery mumble, staring up at his angered eyes with a moony, innocent aura. “I wore it f-for you.”
The intense jealousy present in Harry’s clenched jaw and furrowed brows dissipates, replaced by soft awe at her wispy affirmation. He pants as he absorbs the real meaning behind her entire appearance, feeling sparks ignite in his heaving chest. “You...You did it for me?”
Y/N struggles to swallow in his rough grip, nodding a bit as her fingers tighten around the edge of the chair. “I know you like it and, well…I like making you happy.”
Harry’s lips part in astonished wonder, though he’s not so sure why her admission had caught him off guard. She’s told him plenty of times that she likes giving him what he wants, but this just feels slightly more personal than anything else she’s ever uttered during an orgasmic stupor. It’s tipping along one of the lines they had sworn not to cross.
The vampire hadn’t even realized his strokes had tapered to a halt, and apparently neither had she. They’re both too busy looking into each other’s eyes with expressions that neither can decipher. The tense pause only lasts maybe three seconds at most, but it feels like they manage to fit an eternity of uncertain silence within that short time frame.
Harry cuts through the moment by clearing his throat, intent on changing the subject into something much lighter that will allow them to return to their previous activity. However, the words that rasp out of his raw lips are ones he hadn’t consciously consented to. They come from a sincere nature he’d suppressed for so long, he didn’t think it was possible for it to ever resurface again. “I like making you happy, too.”
Y/N blinks up at him with her usual doe-like air, the corners of her lips twitching fondly at his requited compliment. “I guess we just like making each other happy, then, don’t we?”
The monster has never been more thankful for her witty personality. It gives him the opportunity to stuff his emotions back into the box they belong, allowing him to regain his typical composure and return her banter without a hitch. He bursts into a round of wheezy giggles, tapping at the hollow of her throat playfully. “I guess so. We’ll add that to the list of things we do to each other, right under ‘excite.’”
The rest of the session goes as usual, thankfully. Some more degrading names are exchanged, positions are switched, hickies are stained on fleshy thighs and damp shoulders, and Harry’s array of rings paint an art piece across Y/N’s backside that he thinks is worthy of the Louvre. His initials are signed on it and everything.
The pair end up splayed across her trusty old couch, catching their breaths from the heavy exertion they’d just put each other through. Y/N is still in her dress, though it’s rumpled, damp, and the thin straps are hanging off her shoulders limply. Harry is bare, as he always is after sex, per his raunchy preference. However, Y/N had made him cover himself with a blanket in order to keep at least a shred of decency between them. Plus, she’d said she didn’t want his “limp dick brushing against my dress while we cuddle.”
And that’s what they’re doing now— snuggling on her couch with the human pressed up against the vampire’s side, his arm slung around her shoulders casually as she doodles random shapes across the colored skin of his tummy. She has one leg hooked across his covered hips, which he’s more than happy to allow because he thoroughly enjoys rubbing his palm up and down the back of her thigh; it’s soothing and warm. Y/N entertains herself with nuzzling her head against the crook of his neck, sighing contentedly as he props his chin atop her temple and pets at her frizzy hair with gentle strokes. It’s a nice moment, full of slowly steadying breaths and the hum of the air vent at the other end of the room.
Harry is the first to break the tranquil atmosphere.
“I give the chairs a ten out of ten. IKEA really outsold.”
Y/N slaps her hand down against his naked chest, sputtering into a wave of loud laughter that is unbelievably contagious. “I’m happy you like them ‘cause, uh...they were on clearance. Can’t return them.”
“You lucked out then, didn’t you? Kudos to your ability to pick out decent furniture.” Harry twirls a strand of her tangled locks around his index finger, giving it a playful tug as a grin dimples his flushed cheeks. “Except for when it comes to wall decor.”
“It’s not my fault you're a stuck-up asshole.”
“And it’s not my fault you have a knack for cringey drapery depicting ClipArt images.”
“I’m going to strangle you with one of my tapestries, I really am.”
“Be my guest. At least I won’t have to look at them ever again.” The immortal squeezes her thigh jestingly, his smile widening when she squirms and giggles. “I can’t tell you how many times we’ve been fucking and I accidentally glanced at it and almost went soft.”
“But you didn’t.” She reasons, flicking at one of his nipples in revenge and feeling proud when he hisses softly.
“But I could have.”
“But you didn’t.”
“But I could have.” Harry insists stubbornly, reaching up to push a few wet curls out of his tired eyes. “Have you ever had someone go soft inside you? It’s pretty gross. Highly discourage it.”
“Just close your eyes, then.” Y/N states with finality, pinching at his belly button and cackling in satisfaction when he writhes. “You’re real shitty at solving problems, y’know that? You could never be Sherlock.”
Harry goes quiet for a second and his friend almost looks up to check if he’s alright; he’s too petty to ever back out of anything. But sure enough, his voice comes out a second later, flat and unyielding. “Take down the glorified curtains or I’m never eating you out again.”
“I’ll take down my glorified curtains the day you take down that Stevie Nicks poster on your wall.”
“I refuse to take down Stevie!”
“And I refuse to take down Amanda!”
“You named it?!”
The lovers chat and bicker childishly for a while longer, talking about anything and everything that will keep them entertained. Harry explains to Y/N how his friends had gone on a trip this week (though he makes sure to omit the fact that he had willingly bailed in order to spend time with her) and he’d been alone most of the time. She responds to his story with an incredulous yelp, telling him that he should’ve come over if he wanted some company. She says she would have been more than happy to hang out with him, but he knows she’d been so busy the entire week with work, she probably would have fallen asleep within ten minutes of him arriving. It’s the thought that counts, though, so he thanks her for the belated support, either way.
Y/N talks about a weird customer that had come in and ordered a sandwich with nothing but cucumbers and cheddar cheese on French bread, which she had later recreated to taste-test herself out of curiosity. She can confirm it was abhorrent and the way her nose crinkles with disgust makes Harry snort in endearment. She also tells him about how horribly the date with Jacob had gone, simply because she can tell he’s itching to ask. She recounts everything the young man boasted about, from the annoying college stories to his stupid opinion about clubs. She informs him that she’d never had a more terrible experience in her life and that she wishes she could get that hour of her life back.
Harry can’t help the way his face lights up at how utterly repulsed she sounds. He knew it. He fucking knew she would never insert herself into a romantic situation with such a comedic punchline of a human being. Hearing her confirm his suspicions is almost as pleasurable as what she can do with her mouth. Almost.
The vampire finds himself lost in his thoughts, thinking about how much better the whole event would have gone if it had been him instead. How he would have picked her up from her flat by actually getting out of the car and knocking on her door, rather than just sending her a text to come down. How he would have helped her into his car like a proper gentleman, and how he would’ve aided her back out when the time came. How he would enter the restaurant with his palm resting at the dip of her back, guiding the girl towards their seats and pulling out a chair for her. How they’d make conversation as easily as they always do, and how he’d have her laughing between mouthfuls of food, and how he’d expertly flirt her into a fidgety puddle. How he’d reach over the table to get a bit of sauce off the corner of her mouth with a cloth napkin, and how she’d thank him with that shy smile he’d grown to admire. How he’d wave off her suggestion to split the bill, paying it all himself and smirking as she scolds him for it because she likes being hard-headed and independent. How much fun she would actually have, and how she would probably be willing to go out on a second date.
Harry’s comment topples out of his mouth before he can rethink it.
“I bet I could take you out on a better date.”
Y/N’s head snaps upwards to meet his gaze, eyebrows jumping in utter shock. She hadn’t been expecting that from him at all. Ever.
She talks between airy spurts of glee. “That was random.”
Harry doesn’t return the gesture. In fact, his lips don’t even jolt in the slightest. He simply just stares down at her with seriousness decorating his features, long lashes blinking blankly. He doesn’t know what overcame him to make such a bizarre, uncalled for claim, but he can’t take it back now. And he’s not so sure he wants to, honestly. He knows there’s truth to his belief— he could definitely do a better job of wooing her than that Jesse McCartney wannabe. It’s not like it’s hard.
Aside from that, seeing Y/N out with another man had reminded Harry that their little alliance isn’t anything solid— it’s not bulletproof, and he really shouldn’t be taking it for granted. He’d been so cocky and self-assured about himself and what he has to offer, he’d forgotten that there is always the possibility that Y/N might grow tired of him. It may be a microscopic possibility, but it exists, nonetheless. If he wants to keep her interested, he has to up his game a bit, or she might decide that he isn’t worth keeping around. If he wishes to maintain this favorable arrangement where he gets his intimate tendencies tailored and his supernatural necessities sufficed, he needs to give her a more fulfilling reason to stay.
Good sex is a very convincing factor, sure, but there might come a time in her life when she wants more than just a no-strings-attached affair. There may come a time when she’ll mature out of this stage and seek something sturdier and safe and anchored. There may come a time when she wants a real relationship, and if he doesn’t keep her occupied, that could be sooner rather than later. And it could be with someone else. He doesn’t want this convenience taken away from him— doesn’t want to lose the thing they have going, which keeps him out of annoying clubs, out of random people’s beds, and gives him the best blood he’s tasted in the last twenty decades. It’s too comfortable and satisfying to let go. He has to keep her hooked somehow, and if taking her on a date can assure that this flawless dream remains intact, then he’ll gladly do it.
Harry licks his lips slowly, measuring out his next words with immense precision. “I’m being serious. I can definitely do better.”
A million emotions funnel into Y/N’s eyes at once and he can only pick out a select few: confusion, astonishment, fear, denial, and slight unease. There is the chance that the monster may be interpreting all of the human’s feelings incorrectly because, truth be told, he isn’t the best at gauging or handling sentiments. However, there is one he knows he’s not misjudging— it’s the most evident one of all: Excitement.
“Think about it for a second, yeah?” Harry starts, shifting in his seat to get a better look at her, raising his eyebrows decisively. “I’ve already gotten in your pants. That means I have no ulterior motive, right?”
Y/N’s own brows kink a smidge. “I...I guess.”
Her friend continues his speech. “Because of that, it means I won’t rush the date, I won’t expect anything from you, and we already get on pretty well, as it is. It’d be a proper good time— a genuine good time.”
The girl’s eyes flicker around different points of his face, trying to make sure he’s not pulling some type of cruel prank. Her tone comes out hesitant and slow. “That makes sense, I suppose.”
Harry squeezes the back of her thigh reassuringly. “It’s all in mathematics, love; everything adds up. It’s truly an ideal situation, if you ask me. Practically utopian.”
Y/N takes a deep breath, letting it out shakily. This is all so sudden and unexpected, she feels like Harry might burst into laughter any minute and reveal it’s all just a big joke. It’s just not them. It’s out of bound— it scribbles outside the box drawn around their whole dynamic. They were never meant to date, they were just meant to sleep together; they were meant to provide each other with the satisfaction that comes from a real relationship, without all the trials and tribulations. Harry asking her on a date blurs those sacred boundaries in a way she’s not sure she’s ready to face. It could mess everything up. It could not only ruin the fun little arrangement they have going, but it could potentially destroy their entire friendship. Harry is the only person she’s truly connected with since she moved to Los Angeles and risking that bond on an impulsive decision...That’s something she doesn’t think she can afford to do. She can’t survive her new life on her own. This is just too dangerous. Way too dangerous.
But then again...it’s not like she hasn’t thought about it before. She will admit, there have been instances where she’s pictured her and Harry becoming more than just warm bodies to each other. The two days she spent over at his house the weekend prior had solidified those fantasies and made them more frequent. They just click so well, she knows for a fact they’d make a great team. It’d be like dating a best friend, in a way. They fit one another in a manner she didn’t think was possible, and despite the fact they’ve only been acquainted for just over a month and a half, it feels like they’ve been friends for years. She feels like these types of connections are rare to create and she finds herself wishing it could develop into more.
But could it really be worth the potential grievance?
Y/N tunes back into reality, gazing up at Harry with reluctant eyes. She’s surprised to find his are full of confident clarity, as if he’s already sold on the idea and had begun planning their outing. He’s simply awaiting her response at this point, thumbing over her knee gently while tucking her hair behind her ear, lips poised into that lopsided simper that makes her heart skip and her nerves glitch. How could she possibly find it in herself to say no to him?
The mortal clears her throat lightly, gnawing into her cheek as she speaks her next words with airy humor. “So is that your official way of asking me out? ‘Cause if so, that’s not enough. You’re gonna have to do better, love.”
Harry hesitates for a split second, but it’s so fast, his friend doesn’t even take notice. He prays he doesn’t grow to regret this decision.
The boy nods, pursing his mouth into a small smile.
“I’m sorry, I don't think I heard you? Must be the AC.”
Harry rolls his eyes grandly at the stolen joke, which is identical to one he had made two weeks ago when he’d come over for their usual adult pastime and had brought a special toy in tow.
His mood comes out theatrical, accent heavily exaggerated. “Dear fair maiden, would you be so kind as to do me the impeccable honor of allowing me to bask in your presence by attending a luncheon with me, preferably sometime in the near future? Thank you so much for your consideration. Sincerely signed...” The creature takes a pause, proceeding to sing his next words to the tune of a song they are both familiar with, given their interest in the Hamilton play. “Your Obedient Servant, H dot Styles.”
Y/N explodes into a series of giggles, shaking her head as she reaches up to peck at his grinning lips.
“It would be my pleasure.”
#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic#harry styles smut#smut#harry styles series#vampire!harry#harry styles one shot#harry styles imagine#vampire!au#harry styles#1d fanfiction#harry styles dirty one shot#1d fic#one direction fanfiction#one direction smut#one direction fic#1d smut#ysijwa#harry styles dirty imagine#harry styles dirty fanfiction#harry styles blurbs#harry x y/n#harry x you#harry x reader#harry styles au#vampire au
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
Okay, I give up on trying to send the link so if you google Rodarte fall 2016 headpieces, it’s like the first or third pic that comes up (hopefully!). Listen I just think anakin would look like some sort of deity if he wore something like that ✨✨✨✨ and then the rest of that part 2 message was....
Also have you ever considered writing a chapter from Obi wans POV? I literally just wanna know what was going through his head in the last chapter so BADLY. Especially that part at the end when he has anakin pinned to the wall between his arms and anakin!!! for once!! Isn’t the one staring dreamily at his master!!! but is actually focused on the mission/their pursuers! Listen. I just adore the way you write these guys so much and I cant WAIT for the next chapter 🥰🥰🥰
Headpieces:
BESTIE???
THESE ARE????
GORGEOUS????? 😍😍😍
I'll be completely honest I am the saddest gay dude to exist. I have no style - I wear jeans and t-shirts and hoodies and flannel and chucks and vans and boots every day of the year - and idk the slightest thing about fashion. BUT I will say I at least have an idea of what's pretty or aesthetic on anyone that is not me. 😂
Anakin would look like an absolute Adonis in these. Thank you for this suggestion you have given me so much inspo!
Troubled Water:
I think you're the third person to request this actually XD the way the fic is planned I had only intended to do Obi-Wan's POV in the final chapter.
However... I am considering writing one as a one-shot because I too would love to explore his POV for that scene (it's so fun!). I just don't want to take too much time away from Troubled Water and make people wait longer for updates, if that makes sense? So it may not happen for a while, but getting feedback and requests, knowing what people enjoy and would like to see, definitely helps me creatively so I will never discourage that. I just wanna be totally honest so no one is expecting it to publish right away or anything.
I can't say it enough though that the response this fic has gotten really overwhelms me in the best way. I've been in such a creative slump and dealing with imposter syndrome over the last couple of years, struggling to find my niche both in fandom and as a writer. Knowing that something I love doing brings even the smallest amount of joy to others makes all the mental and emotional work I put into it feel... valuable. So yeah not to get mushy on main but it really warms my heart and I just wanna say thank you for that. 💙
7 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
cottoncandyo6690
kawaii duch
jess-moloney
J. Moloney
cloud-limlee
record .
marieofthelight
"Remember, I am always with you...."
gummie-bears
Hiyoko Saionji