#(​i am typing this from the bathroom with a tummy ache :/ )

[gardenstateofmind]

a deeply annoying but necessary part of my life is needing to stop taking/using a medication or product to know if it's one, doing anything at all, and if it is, what exactly is it doing and to what extent

i've never intentionally done this with my psych meds or asthma meds, but it's happened when for whatever reason, i didn't have access to them for an extended period of time. so the method of finding out really sucked, but i Am glad that it gave me an opportunity to truly see what my meds do for me, be able to actually measure the efficacy of their intended use and the extent of side effects. now i know exactly what my symptoms are, what the side effects are, and be able to make an active choice to tolerate the side effects bc the benefits far outweigh them

i have intentionally done this with skin care products and foods/supplements, which does also suck as an experience bc i have very particular routines in order to manage stuff like acne and ibs, but it's doesn't actually threaten my health, so it's worth finding out

[megamindsecretlair]

Good day, good day! I've been thinking about this for a while, and now I'm just like, yes, we need it! 😏 Can you pretty please write a follow up to my favorite Franklin Saint fic you wrote recently? A Hold On You. I feel like we need something where either the reader is heavily preggo or already had the baby and like the reader predicted, doesn't like the new body. But our boy Frank comes through with that reassurance he promised. 🙌🏾😌

A/N: Le sigh, I am so, so, so sorry this took forever! I know there's no rush to these things but this has been staring me in the face for sooo long LOL. I hope this was worth the wait!

A Hold On You, Pt. 2

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, Angst, PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), spanking, some dirty talk, all consensual. Daddy kink and breeding kink. Fluffy smut. Established relationship.

Summary: Taking place between season 4 and season 5, Franklin toys with the idea of legacy and keeping the people he loves in his life. Months into your pregnancy, your previous worries get the better of you. Luckily, Franklin is there to kiss it all away.

Word Count: 3,424k

Part 1

A/N: I keep feeling like Franklin gets pushed by the wayside. It's not intentional, season 6 just really still affects me LOL. But I will get over that! Also trying to clean up some of these requests ya'll got for me. I love ya'll so much! Please, consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I don't tag empty blogs.

Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @mybonafidefeelings @blackerthings @wide-nose-and-wonderful @halfofmysoulsblog @sevikasblackgf @slippinninque @nerdieforpedro @babybratzmaraj @browngirldominion @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @kindofaintrovert @theunsweetenedtruth @theyscreamsannii @iv0rysoap

You stood in front of the mirror in your bathroom. Steam from the shower receded slowly from the mirror, revealing your visage inch by inch. You stared at your body. Well, more importantly, you stared at your tummy. 

It was beginning to protrude. Leave it to Franklin to get you pregnant that same night. No sooner had you realized that your period was late than did your sensitive stomach turn on you. Already it was trying to purge the invasion. 

Okay, that wasn’t fair. You were truly happy that you were pregnant. You knew no matter what, that Franklin would be a good father. Nothing like his own that he refused to talk about most days. They were at a tentative truce. But it seemed like they were on thin ice and the slightest thing could break it.

You rubbed your belly, planting your hand over your stomach. You could not picture your child. Did that make you a bad mother? 

You pursed your lips as you turned from side to side, looking at your naked body from all kinds of different angles. Shouldn’t you have an inkling? An idea? You and Franklin hadn’t decided on names yet. Wasn’t that something you should have by now? Was there a rulebook to this sort of thing?

Tears stung your eyes as you thought over everything that could go wrong. How dangerous Franklin’s life was. His enemies were yours now. Franklin had to look over both of your shoulders to ensure that you were safe enough to walk across the street.

How could you bring someone into this type of life? How could you possibly agree to gamble with your child’s life? 

Horrible, ugly shame filled you as the tears flowed more freely. Being pregnant sucked! Your fucking nipples ached all the damn time. You were gassy now, that was fun. And whoever was in there would likely run circles around you because you were starting to get sleepy all the damn time. 

You sank to the edge of the bathtub and let the tears fall. That was another fun side effect. You cried at the drop of a hat. You cried because you looked funny, cute, beautiful, or fat. You cried because you wanted cookies n’ cream ice cream but Franklin got you rocky road. You cried because you felt guilty for making him go back to the store to get you what you actually wanted. 

These hormonal changes were driving you nuts. What was worse was that Franklin was gone more often than he stayed at home. All you had were nameless bodyguards that stayed outside your place twenty-four seven. 

You felt alone. 

The tears began in earnest. Big, fat crocodile tears that spilled down your freshly washed cheeks. Droplets landed on your thighs and you rubbed your belly. What did you do?

“Babe?” Franklin called out. 

You sniffled and wiped your tears, getting up to close the bathroom door. You ran some water to try and hide your tears. On top of everything that Franklin was dealing with, he did not need to deal with his hormonal, pregnant girlfriend. 

Franklin knocked on the door. “Babe? You okay in there?” He asked.

“Fine! Just got out the shower!” You called back. Did your voice wobble? Did you sound like you had been crying? 

Franklin twisted the knob and opened the door. You sighed, looking away from him in the mirror. Franklin was immediately by your side, lifting your chin and pulling you close.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. He turned off the water in the sink and rubbed your arms. 

You hadn’t realized how cold you were sitting in the bathroom. Tears had a way of warming your face and drowning everything else out. Pressure and snot was not a good look on you and it hurt even worse. 

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you said. You accepted Franklin’s embrace even though you couldn’t get your mouth to move. To tell him what was bothering you. You could have his baby, but you couldn’t tell him what was bothering you? 

Franklin pulled back and looked at your face. “Got another craving? I’ll get it, just tell me what it is,” he said. 

“I’m so ugly,” you whined. You sounded like such a baby, but it was true. You didn’t recognize your own body. It was a chamber now for your baby. You were doing everything right but it was hard to feel sexy knowing that there was precious life growing inside of you.

It’d likely be even worse after the baby was born. While it ripped everything from you on the way out. And then you’d have to breastfeed it and watch it and worry over it for the rest of your natural born days. 

“What? Why would you say that?” He tried to pull you closer but you were fighting him. You needed space, time to think. The damage had already been done but you still had months to get used to this new life. This new adjustment to your routine. 

You didn’t regret having his baby. You only regretted that you hadn’t thought it through more fully. Really understood the consequences of opening your legs and letting Franklin have his wicked way with you. 

Franklin let you fight him but he was an immovable rock. He planted his feet and stood his ground trying to catch your eyes. You looked everywhere but at him. 

“Hey, hey, talk to me. Please? Why would you say that?” 

“Because I am. I’m fat and gross,” you pouted. 

Franklin sighed. “Naw, baby. You’re the most beautiful woman in the entire world,” he said. He kissed your cheeks. You fought him on that too. You felt so horrible. Like a caged animal needing a release. A break. An escape from the torment of your thoughts. 

You shook your head and wiped your tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just got the mumps,” you said.

Franklin pressed kisses to your forehead, both of your eyelids, and your lips. He kept kissing your face until you relaxed in his arms. That, at least, hadn’t changed. You felt safe in his arms. Warm. 

When your shoulders finally dropped from your ears, Franklin turned you so that you faced the mirror. He wrapped his arms around your tummy, hands flexing over your stomach and linking his fingers together. He was already protecting his baby. The thought brought fresh tears to your eyes. You could fill a pool with how many tears you’ve shed over the past few weeks. 

Franklin’s chin dropped to your shoulder and he looked at you in the mirror. He smiled softly. “I wish you could see you as I do. You are nothing but beautiful to me. Strong. Look at this sexy ass body,” he said.

He swayed you from side to side as if dancing to a slow song in his head. You tilted your head. “You’re just trying to make me feel better,” you said. You sniffled and tried to lean away to reach for a tissue, but Franklin wasn’t letting you go.

His fingers lightly rubbed your tummy. His rocking was strangely soothing. Melodic even though there was no music to guide you. His eyes never left yours in the mirror. 

“So? Don’t make it not true. Didn’t I say that this belly would look sexy getting bigger? And these titties? Shit, you lucky I am suckin’ on them thangs all day long,” he said.

You giggled despite your commitment to stubbornness. Your mouth twitched as you tried to suppress more giggles. He did not need encouragement for his corny ass lines. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” you told him.

“I ain’t doin’ shit but making sure my two babies are okay. I ain’t gon’ lie and pretend I know what’s going on. But you gotta talk to me when you feel like this,” he said. “I can’t help you if you shut me out.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” you told him. He shouldn’t. You always had a handle on your emotions. A way of feeling them but not letting them control you. Not by much. It took a long time for you to get here and you’d be damned if you let Mother Nature control you.

“I just get down sometimes, Franklin,” you said. 

Franklin nodded and smiled. “ I know. And you shouldn’t have to be down alone. I know this is big. This is big for the both of us. I didn’t think we’d get it on the first try,” he said with a smile. 

You rolled your eyes. He was pretty damn proud of that fact. Told anyone who would listen that he was successful the first time. His parents were naturally excited. None more so than Cissy. She was too giddy at the prospect of having a grandchild. 

“You are a mess,” you told him. 

Franklin’s smile grew bigger, giving you a glimpse of the Franklin you knew before. The one who smiled quicker and didn’t hide behind walls in his mind. Trying to keep everything so close to the vest. 

Franklin kissed your shoulder, lips lingering a second too long. “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. You’re only sexier carrying my baby. These hips? Hmm. Just wanna squeeze the fuck outta them,” he said.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. Your tears dried up as you looked at Franklin. At the raw hunger in his eyes. You may feel ugly, but you were far from it in his eyes. 

Franklin moved his hands from your tummy to cup your ass. He jiggled the globes in his hands, grabbing as much of it as he could. “This ass! If you only knew how bricked up I am all day thinking of this ass ridin’ me,” he said.

“Franklin!” You turned around to look him in the eye. His hands stayed on your body as you turned and they landed around your waist. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your belly. 

“You have made me the happiest man alive. There is no one else I’d rather share this with,” he said. He leaned down and kissed you, taking his time to explore your mouth. The kiss was slow and lazy. You had all the time in the world to kiss him and he took every last second of it. He’d retreat and return just as quickly as if he were starving for your kisses. 

You wrapped your hands around his shoulder and pulled him closer. He rubbed against your belly and you drew back, staring at the damn thing like a traitor. Already getting in the way of your life. Already taking up space.

You sighed. There was just no way to get around this. No way to pull you out of this funk. 

Franklin only lifted your chin. He stared into your eyes for a second, a minute, possibly an hour and your bottom lip started to quiver. He only smiled patiently and returned to kissing you. 

You sighed into his mouth. Where the hell did you find someone like him? Someone that didn’t balk at your panic attacks? Or these new hormones? He’d seen you during Hell week. This was that but amplified. Your body was foreign to you now. You grew up with this body. You suffered through puberty with this body. You and this body had been down a rocky, twisted, and convoluted path to self-love. And now you were sharing it.

Franklin’s hands kneaded your doughy flesh around your hips, getting softer over time. He kissed a hot trail down your jaw, neck, and towards your chest. His lips teased around your sensitive nipple and you hissed, jerking away from him.

“They’re really fuckin’ sensitive right now,” you said.

“Oh really?” He asked. He smiled, holding your gaze as he moved his head once more to lick and suckle around your nipples. Your legs instantly went weak. Your nipples were still fuckin’ sensitive, made worse by his playful teasing, but it also felt too good. His warm mouth felt deliciously painful on your titties and you were sighing and whimpering in the bathroom before long.

Your moans echoed off of the tile in the bathroom. Your soft sighs filled in the empty areas and his suckling grew louder, reaching a crescendo that you matched with cries of pleasure. 

“Franklin!” You half-yelled and half-moaned. 

Franklin went to your other nipple, giving it as much attention. You hissed. So much for your shower. You were growing wetter by the second from his teasing alone. As if sensing that, like the mu’fucka had a nose for it, his hand glided down your side until his fingers teased your clit.

You jerked in his arms and he hummed in appreciation. “Hmm, so fuckin’ wet already,” he whispered against your chest. 

“How can you stand here like a goddess and not expect me to worship at your feet? To appreciate this precious gift you’re giving me? I know I been away, I’ll work on that the deeper we get into this. I want to be here for everything.”

“And I want you to know that I found you sexy when I first met you. I found you sexy when you agreed to be mine. I found you sexy when we found out you were pregnant with my baby. And I find you sexy now. Every day I find more and more things to love about you.” 

“Franklin, please,” you sighed. You could not handle him being this damn cute while sucking on your nipples and his fingers playing with your clit. 

“Do you believe me?” He asked.

“Huh?” You asked. If he moved his fingers just a little to the side, you could cum. You felt an approaching orgasm. Your knees were turning to jelly. You were so, so close.

“Do you believe that I find you sexy? That I fall more in love with you every day?” He asked. 

You nodded. “I know you do, Franklin,” you said. “I just forget sometimes.”

“Well, then, I’ll have to keep reminding you. And keep reminding you. And…” Franklin lifted his head from your nipples as he moved his fingers to flick over your clit. You gripped his arms and shook, the bathroom turning hazy as your eyes rolled. 

“Fr-F-” You were trying to warn him. To let him know that you were close, but he already knew. He kissed you, tongue licking your lips before you allowed him inside. Allowed your tongues to mesh and play with each other.

He smiled against your lips as you finally cried out, crying out your release. You slumped against him as you finished and he gently continued to play with your clit. 

Franklin grabbed your hand and pulled you into the bedroom. You giggled trailing after him. He held your hands while you sat on the bed. You were pleasantly wet, feeling the squishy essence in between your legs.

Franklin wasted no time getting naked. You watched him with a smile dancing on your lips at how beautiful he was. Did he have a clue? Did he come close to understanding what you felt for him?

“You make me so happy, Franklin,” you told him. 

Franklin shed the last of his clothes and stepped closer with a big grin. His grin was infectious, causing one to split your face in two. Cheeks aching from the strength of love pouring from your veins. 

“You make me happy too, babe. I don’t ever want you to doubt how beautiful you are. If you do, let me know. I’ll sort that shit out,” he said.

You giggled as his lips returned to yours, joining you on the bed. He settled onto his back and then pulled you to straddle his hardening length. You bit your lip, a bit of shyness creeping in. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done this before. That he hadn’t seen everything about you and kept coming back for seconds. 

Things were different now. Everything changed. But Franklin didn’t let you wallow. He encouraged you to sit in his lap. 

It took some wiggling and a lot of guidance on his part since you couldn’t see his length past your belly. Once the tip of him grazed your wet entrance, the shyness left your body.

You moaned as you sank onto his dick, gliding down until he was fully seated inside of you. Your hands braced yourself on his chest as you acclimated to his size. He wasn’t huge, but he stretched you plenty. 

Your eyes were closed, reorienting yourself with the feel of him inside you. God, you missed this. You had sex in the beginning but your morning sickness was awful. You couldn’t keep shit down. Everything smelled and crackers tasted like cardboard. 

You sighed as Franklin rubbed your hips and your back. “Feel good, baby?” Franklin asked. 

“Yes, baby,” you moaned.

“You look good, baby,” he said. You looked down in time to see his gorgeous smile. Franklin was playing with the idea of a beard. It was coming in nicely. Framing his face and making him look older and wiser. Sexier. Like a dad already. A dad you’d like to fuck. 

You smiled at your own little joke. “Thank you, Daddy,” you said.

“Go on and get yours then,” he said. He smacked your ass with his hand, leaving a ghost-hot sting behind that made you hiss and look at him with mischief. If he wanted to play…

You slowly grinded on his dick, rolling your hips back and forth. Franklin licked his lips and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. He looked down to where you were joined. 

You continued the slow roll, getting him used to that before you started bouncing in earnest. “OH shit,” he moaned. 

You grinned and kept bouncing, up and down on the entire length of his dick. He hissed and rolled his hips in tune with yours until you were matching each other perfectly. In sync as only you two could be. 

His hands gripped your hips. You didn’t know if you were bouncing on him now or if he was pulling you down on his dick. Either way, you were both speed-running towards that beautiful peak. Hand in hand, racing forward faster and further until you were both screaming out an orgasm. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chanted.

“Shit, oh fuck,” Franklin roared. 

Sweat rolled down your back. You leaned forward so you could kiss Franklin. Your kisses were sloppy, jerky, as you rode out your orgasm. Some unknown force took over, unable to help yourself from continuing even though you were too over the moon. Too far gone. 

Maybe this was what he felt like when he kept going even after you came. That driving need to stay connected, stay buried in each other. Your hips kept rolling until you were too weak and spent to keep going. Your legs finally giving out as you collapsed on top of him. 

Franklin groaned and rolled you over until you were beneath him now. He slipped out and you licked your dry lips, turning your head to the side. You did not want to stop, but you were out of breath. In danger of passing out altogether.

You never experienced a mutual orgasm before. It was usually one after the other. Like a gentleman, Franklin always made sure you came first. Sometimes multiple times before he allowed himself to climax. 

Franklin gave your tummy multiple kisses. Every inch of skin was covered with his lips. He laid prayer after prayer into your skin. 

For the first time all day, you felt beautiful. You felt loved. You felt like the most gorgeous woman on the planet. 

“I love you, Noodle,” he said, calling your baby by the nickname you agreed on. You didn’t know why, it just felt like a Noodle, nestled in there. 

Your heart swelled, seeing his face as he continued to kiss your stomach. You rubbed his head as he continued talking to Noodle telling it how he was going to protect it, love it, cherish it, and that it had the best mom on the planet. 

Tears prickled your eyes for entirely different reasons and you tried to blink them away but couldn’t. Franklin kissed up your stomach and couldn’t resist a final lick and tug on your overly sensitive nipples. 

When he reached your mouth, he smiled and kissed you. He sighed into your mouth. “I love you, baby,” he said.

“I love you even more, Franklin.”

THE END

The Secret Franklin Saint Files | Part 1

[pablitogavii]

Heyy so i have a request if its not to weird for you but like reader x gavi where the reader get most of the time a stomach ache from food like IBS and he comfort her

Special Gavi Cuddles

When you were younger, everyone thought you were always having "stomachache" because you wanted to avoid going to school or doing your chores.

During your teenage years, they kept calling it your PMS but when you checked in with your doctor, you realized that you had difficulty digesting different types of food leading to such excruciating aching pain.

You were at the dinner with Pablo's family and Belen suggested you try their fish specialty. You knew what a mess you will be if you try to eat fish but she was so excited that you couldn't refuse.

"Are you sure amor? Your stomach?" Pablo whispered already familiar with your issues but you reassured him that everything will be fine although you knew it wouldn't be like that at all.

Now you were curled up on the sofa whining from cramps while Pablo was making you some camomile tea in the kitchen.

"I knew it was a bad idea to let you eat fish amor!" Pablo said sitting down next to you after placing the cup of hot tea onto the table.

"Lo siento muchisimo Gavinho..but your mom offered and I..ughh" you couldn't speak any more gripping your stomach that was twisted in knots right now.

"I really adore how much you and my mam�� love each other but this is different amor..you know what's bad for you and what will make you feel like this!" Pablo said and you nodded knowing that he was absolutely right to be a little mad at you right now.

"I'm so sorry.." you said and he sighed nodding his head and moving closer to engulf you with his strong muscular arms and kiss your forehead.

"Are you not mad at me anymore Gavinho??" you asked while pouting looking up at him and he sighs giggling himself and shaking his head no which made you happy.

"It just gets me worried when you're in this much pain..I hate to see it." he said his big hand going underneath your t-shirt starting to rub your tummy gently with just enough pressure to help with the cramps.

"You know our plan princesa...First you drink the warm tea slowly, then I give you medication and put you on bed for a nap. And when you wake up, the tummy pain will be gone okay?" he speaks bringing the cup of tea and you grab it with your hands carefully.

"And my special Gavi cuddles??" you say after one sip and Pablo chuckled nodding his head really liking whenever his girl got needy like this.

"Yes, of course you can have your special Gavi cuddles!" he said kissing your cheeks then your nose and finally your soft lips before letting you finish your tea.

"Mm I love you.." you said putting the empty cup away after a few minutes already feeling like you were dozing off in his arms and he let you rest your head on his chest while playing with your hair gently.

"I love you too mi niña preciosa..but I have to get up and bring your medication now.." he said but you were holding onto him tightly not wanting to give up on the comfortable warmth.

"Let me go bebé..." he said with a smile on his face when you looked up at him with big glossy eyes. You were way too precious for his heart to handle it sometimes.

"But..I'm..cold" you said and he leaned down kissing your forehead feeling that you were indeed a little feverish before scooping you in his arms and bringing you to the bedroom.

He placed you underneath the covers walking to the bathroom to grab the medication and then to the kitchen to bring you a glass of water. He gave you the medication and checked your temperature just in case but luckily you were not having a fever.

"Just..give me special Gavi cuddles now...Please!!" you said grumpily and he sighed nodding his head and laying besides you before pulling you on top of him so that your stomach was glued to his warm one which stopped the cramps and his hand was playing with your hair lulling you to sleep slowly.

"What am I going to do with you my little trouble maker huh? I turn blind eye once and here you are whining in pain..I have to keep my guard up with you all the time anjo..but I wouldn't have it any other away..with anybody else" he spoke thinking you were asleep while caressing your cheek but you heard every single spoken word feeling your heart melt at his loving praise.

"Te amo muchisimo..." Pablo whispered and your cheeks were blushing now feeling him kiss your head gently making you nuzzle your nose into his neck and your hand to move up from his chest and around his neck.

"Yo a ti" you say sleepily and now Pablo was the one blushing knowing that you heard him say everything but didn't mind because it came right from his heart.

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Just My Type: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 2 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Darkside

Main Masterlist

A/N: This chapter is 2K words more than the last chapter and I’ve second guessed every single line in this one. This story is getting a lot of traction guys and I’m equal parts happy and scared. Thank you for the nice comments, they do encourage me. Also I’m just ranting feel free to skip this note haha. Your support in any form: like, comment or reblog is appreciated greatly. Also you can dm if you want to be friends, God knows I need those. Hopefully, this chap was worth the wait. Also, I made a poster for this on the main masterlist so check that out, it might be foreshadowing dome plot.

Warning: Eventual Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks later.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can't ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can't get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Chapter 2: Just My Type

It had almost been a week since the incident and you had barely gotten a wink of sleep. When you drove back to your house that night, Steve surprisingly didn’t argue as you had expected. After that friend of his whispered something in his ears, you only assumed he was needed elsewhere and you couldn’t be more thankful for that. They escorted you to your car and Steve thanked you with a strained smile, words genuine but eyes calculating. You didn’t even wonder what went inside his head. You were thankful for the peace and quiet of your own car, content to just get out of the area and into your humble abode.

After you put the already asleep Grace to bed, you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of her room. You just sat on the floor beside the bed, hand intertwined with hers as you rested your head beside her tummy on the mattress.

Your adrenaline wore off and your limbs ached as your thoughts finally settled into place, the gravity of the catastrophe a few hours prior hitting you. Tears made their way down your cheeks as you realized that you both could have very well died tonight.

One bullet could have sealed each of your lives and you were basically defenseless had Steve not saved you against the creeping assaulter. You couldn’t commend yourself for even defending yourself against one attacker, the guilt of killing someone harboring in your tired head. Your quiet whimpers eventually wore you out, while Grace’s shallow breaths lulled you to sleep.

You didn’t manage to sleep for long though, every time your eyes closed, horrific images flashed in your mind. A blood curdling scream here, heaps of dead bodies there, with distant exploding sounds all around. You could see men clad in black holding guns to Grace’s head and whensoever you woke up, you just wondered how much more creative your mind could get, making these visuals so realistic.

When 8 AM rolled in, you didn’t wake Grace up even though it was Monday and you had work. You got up, changed into a long tee after a shower and called your office and then her daycare. You knew you would have a hard time going back to your normal life, to become trusting enough to leave her alone.

Your assumption about yourself was right. You took almost the entire week off, which your boss generously allowed you to after hearing your traumatic experience, which soon made the city news headlines. All your colleagues checked on you, almost once in the five day break you took, and sweetly enough offered to bring you anything you needed.

It was kind of them, but none of them could bring you what your heart genuinely craved: peace and assurance that you and Grace would be safe.

Even though Saturdays were off, you did go to work to see what you missed and where to start on again. You went in because you knew that the random spurt of resolution you got in the bathroom to collect your life, wouldn’t last.

To ease back into your normal life, you gathered your guts, called a babysitter and left home. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave Grace at the daycare just yet. One of your good friends offered to come in to the office and help you, even on the weekend and you were quite grateful to him.

When you both decided to take lunch in the nearby dining place, you both got to talking, the conversation obviously originating from ‘How have you been?’ and ‘Is Grace okay?’. You reminisced about how you used a photobooth to hide, grotesquely and uncomfortably chuckling when you remembered Sarah calling you her mom and how her dad saved you all.

You deliberately left the part where you killed someone and Steve shot someone too. You hadn’t come to terms with it yet and you stiffly restricted your mind whenever it tried to go down that lane.

He sensed how the conversation was becoming tense and distressing for you and briskly redirected the topic.

“I hope the dad was hot though?” He wiggled his eyes creepily and you snorted at his vulgarity, light for the first time in days.

“He was easy on the eyes; I will admit that.” You played along, recalling your girlfriends and how you used to ogle people.

“Don’t be a homewrecker though, I don’t support cheating.” He said nonchalantly, checking his phone as a notification bell rang off.

“He’s a widower.”

His eyes snapped up and met yours as his head tilted in confusion. “That’s a strange fact to know about someone you met for a few minutes.”

Steve’s even stranger comment about his dead wife popped in your mind and before you could stop yourself, you blurted that out as well.

“He even said and I quote, ‘She deserved what she got.’” He put his phone down, weirdly amused.

“Ooh Creepy! Do you think he is one of those husbands who kill their wives and bury them in the backyard? The podcasts always say that the psychopaths are visually handsome and charming. And his statement was quite vague and spooky.” He continued munching, and you felt that now Aiden was really paying attention unlike before.

“Steve did have a gun while searching for Sarah, come to think of it.” You drank your tea and awaited his response. What you did not expect was his eyes to widen and worry to cloud his features.

“Um Widower Steve with a toddler Sarah? At the place where The Vices attacked?” He mumbled, grabbing his phone and doing God knows what on it. Your eyebrows furrowed and before you could ask him what was up with his antics, he resumed.

“This is a long shot but I really hope your Steve didn’t look like this.” He positioned the phone in your vision, and you could already tell it was Steve by the sapphire blue of his eyes piercing through the screen into your soul. The picture was a month or two old, his hair was much longer when you met him than in the photo.

“This is him.” Your eyes met Aiden’s and worry visibly took over his features as his forehead creased and jaw tense.

He looked around the restaurant, finding it empty in the afternoon. He leaned and whispered, “This Steve of yours is dangerous.”

You interrupted Aiden, even though you already knew Steve was, the sight of his armed men still fresh in your head, and inquired, “Why do you say so?”

“It’s just like the fictional stories we hear from our parents, except here, in this city of ours, every myth holds true. There are really powerful men, untouchable by law, who reign the city silently and live luxuriously. Every shady, under the table deal you’ve heard of, transpires. Illegal trades, fraud schemes and bounty hunters are not fictional, they exist here. These men kill whatever hinders them and trust me, you don’t want to be the deer caught in their Jaguar’s headlights.”

Ice froze in your veins again, resembling the fear you felt that night but now because of your deemed ‘savior’. You convinced yourself that you had not wronged him in any way, instead had saved his daughter’s life.

“Are you in contact with him? If you are, distance yourself cleverly, don't block him immediately.”

“No, we just parted ways near my car, he thanked me for Sarah and was called away. It’s almost been a week and he hasn’t reached out if that’s what you mean. We didn’t exchange contacts and I don’t think I even told him my full name.” You explained yourself as if you were on the witness stand in court, trying to convince yourself more than Aiden.

“Pray that he doesn’t remember you more than that, if at all. I’m being totally honest here in telling you this, I’m genuinely worried for you and Grace. You are smart but he is powerful. He has unimaginable resources and if you become more than a speck of dust on his windshield, you are screwed. There is no exaggeration here.” You took his words to your heart and swore to be careful, if not for yourself then for Grace.

The rest of the day went by and you found yourself dwelling on and worrying about Aiden’s words. At least he put it out there as it was. Heeding his advice, you did google Steve on your phone, finally finding him in the topmost news headline when you added ‘Buck’ in the search bar as well.

‘With 38 lawsuits pending against businessman Steve Rogers, the filers have lost all hope in prosecuting him. All cases are being drawn out for indefinite periods of time by the Chief Justice Bruce……’

Aiden was right.

Businessmen was code for illegal mob heads. Cases being stretched on meant he was, in fact, invincible, at least to the common man’s fists.

You flickered through several titles, each one more surprising than the last. He was believed to be involved in the carnival attack, alleged for three hit and run cases that he didn’t lose but the witnesses swore they saw him driving and was also rumored to have brought in quintals of drugs just last week, but the packets just evaporated into thin air and there was no proof of their existence in the first place even on incessant searching.

Every crime of his made you shudder and you mentally thanked Aiden for pulling you out of your oblivion. Your mind raced and heart palpated and you cursed yourself for being so drastically unaware even after living here for almost four years. Technically speaking, Steve and you were even, him saving your life and you saving his daughter’s. No logical reason came to your mind for him contacting you ever.

You wished as Aiden said and assured yourself that your paths would never cross again, Steve not having reached out in a week, so hopefully never again.

That thought went out the window when you reached home to find a box awaiting you. Hannah, the babysitter you had called, informed you it came around 5 in the evening and was exclusively to be opened by you today.

Your mind raced as you paid the babysitter, your hands sweaty as you tried not to think about the gift and its sender. There was an apparently clear answer to who mailed it but you refused to accept that, courtesy of Aiden.

The box was of the height of Grace, it was black with red hearts painted across it; some red roses also sparingly adorned it. You opened the lid and found tons of red tissues and a multi-flower bouquet adorned with mostly red roses and a few purple and pink flowers.

Because of your frequent gardening in your backyard, you knew all the flowers’ meanings. To sum it all up, red flowers, especially roses were used for courting someone. Pink meant admiration, purple for beauty and you knew the ‘violet’ flowers were for loyalty.

As your nerves increased tenfold, you willed yourself to get it over with and empty out the box first, ignoring the little card in your bouquet, saving the ‘best’ for last. You find a mini bouquet inside but unlike yours, it had chocolates of every kind. You did read its card and cringed when it was for Grace, bothered not by the deed but by the doer.    

Further inside were some animal plushies, face masks, perfumes, scented body lotions and shampoos. Your head hurt thinking about the ‘single mother care package’ delivered to you by someone you refused to acknowledge.

As Grace sat in her playpen occupied, you dared to pick your card and read its message, your heart beating unrealistically fast for someone who refused to accept the cruciality of her situation.

~

I can’t thank you enough in this lifetime for saving my little princess. The gift of your help is more than anything money could ever buy for me. Please accept this invitation of mine for dinner tomorrow night, 7PM at La Bonne Nuit, as a symbol of my sincere gratitude for everything you’ve done. I’ll gets the kids covered and pick you up, you just be ready and look as amazing you always do.                                                                                           Sincerely,                                                                      Steve Rogers

                                                                                            ~

You stilled as you read it over and over again.

An invitation, your ass. Even in writing his authority portrayed, there was no question and hope for you coming, he just stated that you’d come. Looking pretty as always? You just met him once, in the middle of a calamity, covered in dirt and blood.

All the red roses and gifts screamed his romantic interest but you illusioned yourself into thinking they meant gratitude. You wouldn’t be able to digest it all otherwise.

Knowing what you knew now about Steve, you understood there was no denying the dinner tomorrow. You had to get out of his clutches and distance yourself, but as Aiden had so rightfully said, cleverly.

That night you laid in bed mulling over your next course of actions. You had called the gift shop to return the unwarranted presents you received but they said it was non refundable and anonymous to trace. You bitterly snorted in their face, they put a card with Steve’s name on it for heaven’s sake!

You didn’t flinch even when you realized you never gave Steve your address, neither for mailing stuff nor for picking you up. There was no number given to call him and thank or to call him and deny. The bastard had planned it all out, and you felt like you were driving in a one way lane, going deeper into the tunnel. Somewhere among your all-relentless fretting, you managed to finally sleep.

 When the doorbell rang, your eyebrows furrowed. It was just 6 PM and you weren’t expecting anybody else except for Steve. You had already begun getting ready, having developed a habit of keeping an extra margin of time now having a toddler. You still had to assemble Grace’s essential backpack, fill it with her meds and bottles.

While still putting on your diamond earring, you made your way to the door, unlocking it to find a redhead grinning at you. Before you could interact with her, a small body clung to your legs and you looked down to find the azure eyed kid that put you in this mess, Sarah, smiling up at you.

“Mama! You look pwetty!” She looked up in awe and now aware that she didn’t have a mother, you were even more so coerced into accepting this title rather than telling the kid that 'you are semi orphaned'.

“I’m Wanda, Sarah’s nanny. Mr. Rogers told me to pick her friend, Grace, up for the night?” So, this was what Steve meant. Bringing Sarah was proof enough of her legitimacy, but behind her you saw ‘Buck’ salute you from the driver’s seat of the black car. One of these days, you needed to learn his real name.

You invited Wanda inside and Sarah ran to Grace immediately, grabbing and whining while asking Grace to give her some popcorn she was munching on, her fist generously full.

In your open plan kitchen, you grabbed two plastic bowls, filled them with each with the tub of popcorn that sat in the microwave and handed each toddler one, fortunately quietening Sarah. Sarah obeyed Grace, in first thanking you, their ‘mama’ and then following her to her open playpen.

You faced Wanda again who sat on a barstool and kept on beaming. If your annoyance at her amusement showed, she sure didn’t let it falter the smile.

“Mr. Rogers told me you’d worry about your daughter, but I assure you she’d be in more than capable hands.” All you could focus on was how self-reassured she was. “I’ve served him for almost two years, the last family I served, I was there for 8 years and before them, I was employed for 3. I know the general bedtime and snacks, all I need from you is information about her allergies.”

You nodded and told her about Grace, her meds and what all you packed. When you got to know that her family owned the daycare Grace went to, you were finally somewhat convinced. After seeing them off, it was about fifteen minutes later, that the devil disguised in Prada showed up at your door.

You grabbed your purse and your keys. Wiping your sweaty palms on your dress, you opened the door. Steve stood there, a smirk lodging on his handsome face. His blue, three-piece suit perfectly paired with his cerulean eyes was impressive to say the least.

He was dressed to kill, and it appeared as if you were his first victim.

As your eyes took him in from top to bottom, his did the same lazily, taking their time, resting at certain places for longer period than others.

“You look stunning.”

You knew you did. You wore one of your more expensive dresses when you found out La Bonne Nuit to be one of the few seven-star hotels in the country. In hindsight, if you’d have dressed worse, maybe he’d have left you alone.

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?” He offered you his hand and you obliged with your palm in his. Your other hand pulled the doorknob while you stepped out, all alarms already set-in place. He waited while you locked and put the keys in and when you were done, with a soft kiss along your knuckles, he pulled you along.

The act surprised you, your stomach turning and your gut wrenching and you wondered if you’d be able to process the food after all, with your upset digestive system.

Like a proper gentleman, he opened the door for you and when you settled, he took his position at the driver’s seat. The silence was painful for you, your overthinking finally filling ideas in your head that you avoided contemplating about all day, focusing on Grace.

He was relaxed though; his humming was proof enough.

Mid way through, your thoughts were rudely interrupted when a hand housed itself on your knee. You glanced to find Steve’s palm slightly rubbing your knee. If it was meant to be assuring, you certainly didn’t feel like it.

You frowned and looked up to Steve who still had the arrogant smirk on his face, eyes straight ahead on the road, giving no indication of his inappropriate touching.

You wanted to swat his hand away but a brainwave dashed through your head and a disturbing thought made you halt, that whether he carried guns to restaurants as well, since carnivals were no big deal.

You ignored his hand and continued looking outside, pretending to ignore it as well as he did. Your scowl was a huge giveaway though.

You didn’t know that, but when your eyes found their way out, his finally rested on your face, the smirk growing even more.

Thankfully, apart from the incongruous touching, the dinner went okay-ish. The food and wine were impeccable, perfect even, the restaurant on the hotel’s top floors was so picturesque. You tried to savor your one-time experience there, knowing you’d no way be able to come back there.

Well, you tried to relish as much as you could while your mind still sat there, wary of the human in front of you. If you’d ignore your journey here, Steve was nothing short of a true gentleman, often making you wonder if you had imagined his hand on you.

This ‘friendly’ date you were having was probably one of the best you have had, he had left no expenses. He appeared to be interested in your work, about your childhood and about Grace’s but you swiftly avoided his questions about her father. He was growing a tad bit too comfortable for your liking and you still refused to entertain the idea that this was a ‘date’ date.

When you were finally onto dessert, the last course of your meal, your table was shadowed by the broad frame of a brunette and his date. He clapped Steve’s shoulder and Steve rose to hug him, you awkwardly smiled.

“It’s been far too long since you’ve been here, Cap. Why don’t you and your gorgeous date stop by my penthouse for a bit? We could finally go over the papers you sent me, in person?” He winked, they discussed something more and then went away, his date bowing and trailing after him as well.

Steve claimed his seat again, and finally told you about the interrupter. “That was my good friend, Tony Stark, always in a hurry. I’ll introduce you to him when we meet him later.”

“I think I’ll be heading home; you need not worry about my introduction, I hardly think we’ll ever run into each other again.” His eyes narrowed and you clarified, “Me and Mr. Stark, I meant.”

That’s good, don’t associate yourself with more of his kind.

“He was so kind in inviting you though, it would be rude to refuse.”

“It’s already late, Steve. And I’ve never left Grace alone for a night yet. What if she’s antsy? What if she is bothered? What if she feels unsafe? She's only used to very few people, and after last week, I-” You had started the sentence hoping to use Grace as an excuse but every word of yours succeeded in making you more apprehensive.

The carnival night flashed in your mind, along with the nightmares and you started panicking even more. Your hands clammy, your dessert spoon fell in your lap as sought your phone in your purse, hoping to call Wanda for an update. You felt like a terrible mother, who left her child with a stranger, only a week after she suffered trauma, just to go on a date with a mobster.

Steve reached across the table and grabbed your fidgety hands and as you wriggled to get your hands free, he softly called your name. Voice stern but vocals gentle. Your blurry eyes snapped to meet his while he guided you to breathe deeply, in and out.

His firm hold convinced you to listen to him, you’d never free yourself of them otherwise.

When you had calmed a bit, he withdrew his hands and fetched his phone. Your thoughts slowed down, and you wondered if anyone here was judging you. Your little scene, mercifully, went unnoticed by the other affluent people dining here.

Steve handed you his phone where four colored frames rested, the screen showing you Grace and Sarah cuddled in a frilly, pink four poster where Wanda sat too, her lips moving.

The feed was live and the screen muted, both the toddlers’ eyes fluttering close slowly, on the bridge of sleep.

You handed the phone back to Steve and drank your water while he rubbed circles on the back of one of your hands. You never freaked out like you did right now, always collected and never giving into anxiety. What had happened to you?

Well, In your defense, you had never experienced a disaster either.

“The kids are safe; I’m never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

Your mind did catch the plural in his statement but you promised yourself you would not let it get that far and continued drinking your water, emptying the entire glass.

“The HD image you just saw was by cameras Tony recently developed. His technology is amazing, I’ll take you to his lab sometime.” You appreciated his attempt to redirect the topic but you also focused on how tech-savvy his friends were as well.

You hummed and agreed, trying to be ambiguous with your answer.

When you finished your dessert, you hoped he’d forget about his ‘friend’ Tony but to no avail.

“His penthouse is two floors above. He owns this hotel as well in case you didn’t notice.” He led you to the elevator as you recalled the Starks Group logo you saw earlier sometime.

Some AI named Jarvis opened the elevator doors for you in the living room of Tony’s penthouse. It was even more magnificent than the restaurant earlier, the place illuminated by several hues of different colours. Steve chuckled and strung you along, introducing you to a ginger-head named Pepper, who was Tony’s date earlier and went to search for his acquaintance.

She offered you wine but you politely declined, opting for water instead. She brought your glass to you from the extravagant kitchen and you both sat on the barstool there instead of the living room. Too anxious to say the wrong thing, you stayed quiet until her voice filled the deafening silence.

“So, Steve almost never brings dates around. You two serious?” She questioned, leaning towards you, waiting for some gossip, no doubt.

“Oh no! We aren’t dating. He just invited me for a friendly dinner. We merely met the other week.” You deliberately left out the part where there was bombing by crime families and attack on the common man.

“Honey, in the mob life, you don’t just introduce random people to the fam.”

Oh, she wasn’t being shy about the whole mob ordeal. It seemed weird to hear it from her, since you and Steve hadn’t used the word yet. Maybe he figured you already knew considering the circumstances you met in or how famous he was.

“We really aren’t romantically involved. This dinner was just a gesture of gratitude if I’m being truthful.”

She chuckled, as if you were a kid making stories and quizzed, “Gratitude for what?”

You trapped yourself into that one. You didn’t know how to answer her and your brain downright blanked. Surprisingly,, Steve came to your rescue and two voices interposed your conversation.

Steve called your name and as you turned to the men, he continued, “She’s the one who saved Sarah the other night. You know the story, Wilson probably got it printed.”

“Impressive, really. Hey, I’m Tony and I see you’ve already met Pepper, my fiancée.” He shook your hand and kissed your knuckles, much like Steve did earlier in the day. You bowed, smiled and mumbled a ‘nice to meet you as well’. They escorted you to the elevator and Tony continued.

“Well, it’s not everyday Steve brings brave and extraordinarily attractive women around. Welcome to the family, sweetie. She’s a keeper, Cap.” He winked while saying the last sentence and before you could correct him, Steve ushered you inside the elevator, bro-hugging him. As the doors closed, Pepper winked at you from behind Tony and a shudder ran through you.

Okay you had to make it clear, get on the same page.

As the elevator music filled the silence, you started, “Steve, look we aren’t-”, “I served in the army, that’s why Tony calls me Cap, short for captain.” And crudely got interrupted.

“I never wanted to get into the army, I thought people were fools to sacrifice the one life they got. But I went to make my mother’s dream a reality, I really loved her, you know? Sarah is named after her, my mother.”

His voice broke at the end and as much as you wanted to redirect onto your former topic, you couldn’t. This amiability of yours would be the death of you.

“She died alone in her bed; I was dispatched too far away to even make it back for her funeral.” He mumbled but you heard him clear as a sunny day, and he leaned back onto the wall for support while you awkwardly rubbed his shoulder to return the support he provided earlier during your mental breakdown.

He closed his eyes and gathered himself, taking deep breaths. As the elevator dinged, his eyes opened and he gave you a strained smile.  

The car ride to his mansion was painfully silent, his mind too sidetracked to focus on harassing you again. With all that you went through today, you almost forgot about that.

His mansion was enormous, twenty guards stood outside and even more patrolled the lawn. He took you inside his house, the interior even more detailed and scenic than Tony’s temporary residence.

You just concentrated on swiftly getting Grace and Uber-ing back. As Steve showed you earlier, Grace and Sarah hugged and slept and it was a meticulous task to untangle their limbs without waking either of them up andnd get Grace with her back-pack. You thanked Wanda on the way out, hoping to avoid Steve but somehow he stood outside before you, leaning on his sleek black car. He opened the door for you before you could refuse the ride. You settled with Grace in the backseat itself, trying to be smart.

He just summoned one of his guards to drive and sat alongside you in the back. You didn’t let the annoyance at his clinginess show though. You just focused on Grace who drooled over your shoulder.

Hopefully, there won’t be any point of exposure to him ever again, your circles didn’t match, both social and professional. Your Venn diagrams didn’t overlap anywhere. This should be reason enough to avoid meeting ever again.

He didn’t try anything even this ride around. You doubted it was hardly because of the toddler or because of the driver. He did as he pleased, if he wanted to he could very well grope you. Luckily, he wasn't in the mood.

When you reached your dwelling, you stepped out hastily, thanking him in a whisper. You fumbled to get your keys out, but since everything you held slowed you down, he caught up with you without even trying.

He took and held Grace’s bag while you drew the keys out, Grace still on your hip. He handed you the bag back, “So this is it, I guess?”

“Yeah, tonight was a total delight. Thanks for the dinner and everything, really.” You put up your best façade, hoping to convince him.

“It was, thanks to you. The company matters the most.”

You awkwardly chuckled and you sensed him leaning in, his eyes flickering shut. Your eyes closed as you turned your head to avoid him, so that his lips would peck your cheek.

They never came.

Your eyes opened to find his and he chuckled, leaning in once again swiftly, catching you off guard this time. He didn’t meet your lips though, he kissed the corner of your mouth, lips overlapping for a fraction of skin.

“In due time, baby.” He stepped back and strolled to his car leisurely, content in his own world.

You opened your door and slammed it shut, the peck feeling wrong on so many levels. It felt more sensual than a lover’s kiss, leaving room for intimacy and longing.

Your thoughts ran a hundred kilometers an hour, the most absurd but nauseatingly true being, this was a date and it was not your last encounter.

Steve smirked outside in his car, the dinner an absolute success in his opinion. Tonight just made him feel that you both were more than compatible for each other. You needing him during your mental breakdown, him relaxing under your shy touch, Tony’s approval, not that important though, and your anxiety for Grace was the best part, because he, more often than he’d like to admit, fussed about Sarah the same way, agonizing and fretting her well being.

A text lit up his black screen and his grin widened even more if possible.

‘The Stark cameras are up and working, Sir.’

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Perfect house.

This was requested by the lovely @ben-c-group-therapy who asked for this:

<Sorry if you’ve done this type before but I’ve been feeling sick the last few days (flu symptoms), and was wondering how Nick or Miguel could help care for reader with their body aches, fatigue, stomach, being cold. Of course of the reader is like me she’d want to keep caring for everyone else (him), cooking meals, cleaning etc.

Thanks love. ❤️>

Hope this is what you were looking for lovely and it hits the spot.

Warning: Talks of flu and taking meds for it. A soft, sweet, caring Miguel.

WC: 960

Enjoy x

Miguel had noticed when he spoke to you last over the phone that you had started coughing and you were sniffing,

“I’ll be home tomorrow baby”

“I can’t wait to see you” you started to cough over the phone.

“Mi Amor, you should rest.” He said sternly down the phone.

“I’ll be fine baby. Just come home to me safe”

You always keep yourself busy while he was away for an extended period of time for business. Although you had cooks and cleaners, the day the Miguel usually came home, you cleaned and cooked yourself. You cleaned all the living spaces from top to bottom and cooked his favorite pastries and his favorite meal to welcome him back.

You had done every home remedy known to man the day before hoping that by the time it got to bed time you would be feeling better, but late in the afternoon you got Paco to run to the pharmacracy to get you some cold and flu tablets, taking two before you fell asleep. You had the worst night’s sleep, the coughing waking you up, your nose running like a tap and when you finally decided to get up, you were worse then you were the day before. You got back into bed, your head was throbbing, your body was aching and you started to sweat from the temperature that started up in your body, groaning and feeling sorry for yourself,

“Y/N” you heard coming up the stairs and the click of his shoes on the hard wood floors.

“In bed” you muttered load before letting out a cough.

Miguel walked in through the bedroom door and he rushed over to you to stop you from sitting up in bed,

“My love, lay down”

“No, nothing is done. No cleaning. I haven’t started cooking yet, the dough-“

“Y/N, come on, look at you. You’re so sick”

“I’ve missed you and I always-“

“Amor, let me take care of you for a change, I should have come back last night” Miguel kissed your forehead “You have a temperature” he tisked and then double checked it by putting the back of his hand on your forehead.

“My body hurts” you whined.

Miguel kissed your forehead, pushing you to lay down and he rushed out of the room. He was back in no time with a bottle of water and your cold and flu medication. You watched on with droopy eyes, finding it hard to stay awake, as he sat everything on the bedside table and he walked into the bathroom.

You heard the shower running and it was less than 5 minutes before Miguel walked back out in just a pair of track pants and damp hair.  Miguel then walked into the walk-in robe, grabbing you a pair of panties and an thin sleep dress, sitting them on the edge of the bed.  

He walked up to you, grabbing your hand and helping you sit up before he scooped you up carrying you into the bathroom and perching you on the edge of the bath.  He went to the vanity, opening the draw, pulling out a claw clip, walking back over to you and clipping up your hair. Miguel made his way over to the shower turning it on and then he walked back over to you, Miguel helped you stand up and he undressed you, putting an arm around your middle and walked you to the shower. You stepped in, letting the warm water cover your body, giving slight relief to your aching limbs. Miguel reached in grabbing a luffa and some body wash, squeezing some on it and he washed over your whole body. As he made his way back up your leg you rested a hand on his cheek and he turned his head into your palm kissing it,

“I’ am sorry”

“My love, you have nothing to be sorry for. You getting better is more important”

Miguel washed all the soap off you and shut the water off. He reached for a towel wrapping it around you and helped you step onto the bathmat. You slowly started to dry your top half, the ache in your body starting to hit you again. Miguel grabbed another towel getting down on his knees drying your legs and lower half. As he stood back up, you wrapped the towel around yourself and Miguel scooped you up again carrying you back into the bedroom sitting you on the bed. Miguel reached for your panties slipping them on your legs and you slipped the night dress over your head, pulling the towel off you, throwing it on the floor and then moved to pull the panties up your body.

Miguel kissed the top of your head again, and then reached for the medication, grabbing your hand and sat them in it. You put them in your mouth before he handed you the bottle of water that he had taken the cap off and you drunk them down. Your head dropped back and your eyes closed to try and ease the sting of them, Miguel coating your face in kisses,

“Rest now baby” Miguel laid you down and then moved over you to spoon you. His hand going around your middle, running over your tummy in comfort “I’ll have Nestor get dinner later”

“The pastries. They are your favorite when you get home”

“Amor, I look forward coming home to you. The cooking is just a bonus” Miguel kissed the back of your neck.

“I love you so much, Miguel” you muttered, your hand wrapping around his wrist as your eyes started to close and sleep started to creep in fast, Miguel kissed the back of your head.

“I love you too, my love”

Tags: @beccabarba @alwaysachorusgirl @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @jemmakates

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: IV

“I had a few, got drunk on you

And now I’m wasted

And when I sleep, I’m gonna dream of 

How you tasted.”

— Medicine, Harry Styles

A/N: if i said i’m apologizing for the way i left off ch3, yes i did ❤️ no i didn’t ❤️ it was fun ❤️ as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!! and if you enjoy the piece, please reblog it!!! it keeps content creators motivated!! without further delay, hope you enjoy what’s in store for Sherlock and Watson this chapter cause it’s uhhhh quite a bit of uhhhh ~stuff~ 😌

harry’s condo : ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : ysijwa playlist

word count: 26.4k

content/warnings: a mild addiction to sexting, some pretty sparkly lingerie, a very interesting photo, a strange but satisfying gift, rough sex and degradation, pillow talk about the validity of the men in Twilight, the satisfying gift being put to even more good use, Y/N going over to Harry’s apartment for the first time, mild mentions of blood, and an impromptu Hamilton re-enactment amidst more lemon blueberry pancakes

///

For the next three days, the sexting grows more frequent. 

Harry feels somewhat humiliated by it, really. He’s an adult— a full-grown, two hundred and nine year old man— and trading nudes with a simple girl shouldn’t be getting him as worked up as it does. He should know how to handle his hormones better, and the thing is, he usually does. But no one in the last few centuries has made him feel as desperate as Y/N does; he hasn’t felt this helpless for someone since he was alive. The vampire just wasn’t prepared to handle the needy responses she so easily yields from his body and he’s horribly rusty on how to skate this thin sheet of metaphorical ice. It’s like he can feel it cracking and crunching beneath his feet, but he has absolutely no power over how to stop it. Any minute, it’s bound to take him under, and he has no choice but to allow himself to drown in it. 

The following seventy two hours are full of so many dirty promises and explicit images, his phone might as well be a porno hard drive.

After coaxing Y/N into a few orgasms through the phone and receiving just as many in return, a dangerous game is set into motion that Harry knows is probably unhealthy not only for his self-worth, but for the sensitivity of his anatomy. He can only get off so many times before his joints are begging for a break. 

He wakes up Wednesday morning with a stiff ache running along his inner thighs and ebbing across the underside of his balls, but there’s an undeniable contentment stewing behind it. He doesn’t truly mind the throb, comforted by the fact that Y/N is probably facing similar issues at the moment. He finds himself smiling coyly as he flips an omelette onto one of his marble-print platters, recalling the events from the night before. 

According to what he’d heard on the other end of the phone, present throughout the array of shaky gasps, cracked whimpers, and wet sounds of pleasure that had echoed from the speaker, Harry had made Y/N squirt. 

That was a tremendous stroke to his already huge ego. The idea that he’d been able to make her cum so hard that she’d soiled her brand new sheets had been circling around his head for the last couple of hours, fluffing his confidence. It’s a milestone achievement, to be honest. He’d done something that very few men have the skill to achieve in person, meanwhile he’d done it just by using his voice and extensive imagination. The arrogance he’s sporting right now is more than justified. His cheeks are starting to ache from how hard he’s grinning.

The vampire is so lost in his recollections that he nearly misses the chime of his phone, the unique ringtone that beeps out being as welcomed as ever. 

Harry scoops up his device while spooning a piece of his green pepper and mushroom egg dish into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he swipes into Y/N’s text conversation. He smoothers the giddiness fluttering in his stomach; he’s not a child. 

As it turns out, he’d killed those butterflies for no solid reason because the instant her message pops up, they come right back to life. 

Morning! Thought I’d show you what I’m planning on wearing to work today. 

Harry roughly swallows down his breakfast at the attachment following the caption, a shiver coiling down his spine. “Fucking hell.”

The photo is a mirror shot, taken in her tiny bathroom. It’s a full body image where she’s clad in a matching set of bra and panties, the material sparkly bright red lace. The bottoms are high-waisted, hugging her tummy and hips in a way he deems perfect, the lace decorating her skin beautifully. The bra is see-through, so he has an unrestrained view of her chest and he doesn’t know why, but he thinks he might love the way her breasts look in lingerie more than without it. Make no mistake, he’ll willingly drool over her no matter what, but there’s just such a refined beauty in seeing her figure in such an elegant piece. She’s like a present set out for him to unwrap, preferably with his teeth. 

Then he notices the garters and the next forkful of food lodges in his throat. They hug around her legs deliciously, the bands settled midway down her thighs as the straps run up the sides and clip onto the hem of her panties. Yeah, he would definitely use his teeth. 

After gawking at the artwork for a minute, Harry finally gathers himself enough to type back a decent reaction.

I’m pretty sure that outfit doesn’t apply to the workspace dress code. 

Y/N shakes her head in amusement at his response, giggling softly as she finishes shimmying into her black skinny jeans, buttoning them over the skimpy lace. 

I’ll cover up for the sake of the customers. But it’s just such a nice set, I figured someone else should get to appreciate it with me.  

Harry sets his utensil down on top of his plate, omelet only half eaten. His appetite has molded into a very different type of hunger. He pads out of the kitchen, feeling the ten AM sunlight filter through the glass wall of his living room and warm his bare chest and back. He heads for the bathroom that branches out of the entrance corridor, coming to a stop right in front of its mirror. He begins to clean up his appearance, combing his bed head into a presentable state (he hadn’t slept, per usual, but rolling around his pillows last night while he indulged fantasies about Y/N had done his curls in something fierce), fixing his royal blue briefs along his hips and dragging the waistband down to show off the dip of his prominent pelvic bones.

Once the immortal is done, he taps back with eager strokes of his thumbs. 

I can’t believe you’ve never worn that for me. That’s a criminal offense. Literally worth capital punishment. 

Oh, really? Capital punishment? And who are you to decide my verdict?

I’m the executioner, obviously. I’m in charge of dispensing the verdict and I promise you, I’ll see to it that you get what you deserve. It’s my civic duty.

Y/N scoffs at his quip, tugging her navy polo shirt over her torso and quickly running a brush through her hair. She puts it up into a neat ponytail, sighing lightly as she stares at her tired reflection. She wishes she could ditch work for the day and entertain more conversation with Harry, but she literally can’t afford to.

Well, you’re gonna have to wait while I go perform my own type of civic duty. Making the world a better place, one grilled panini at a time. 

Harry’s lips jolt. She’s so clever and witty, he doesn’t know how she could possibly be from such a dull, monochrome town. 

I understand. Justice calls. But before you go, can I send you a picture of what I’M wearing today? Could use a few style tips. 

That’s pretty ironic coming from someone whose last name is literally ‘Styles.’

I know, I know. But even fashion icons have their insecurities sometimes. 

Fair point, nobody’s perfect. Lemme see your OOTD, then.

The outfit of the day appears to be no outfit at all, according to Harry’s picture. It’s taken on a mirror, like her own, and it depicts him standing with one hand holding his phone in front of his face while the other seems to be doing jazz hands down his body playfully. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of deep blue briefs (probably because he’d completely ruined the maroon pair he was wearing last night, if his broken moans and heavy panting had been any indication) and they hug his frame flawlessly. The fabric is bunched around his lean thighs, tiger head tattoo peeking out to accompany the rest of the collection, which includes all the inkings running the length of his left arm as well as the butterfly and swallows across his torso. His v-line is evident as ever, dipping below the elastic band teasingly. His chest is broad and his biceps are taut, despite the fact that he’s not even flexing. He looks like a Greek statue and Y/N is positive the higher powers designed Harry with that specific thought in mind.

Y/N doesn’t realize drool is gathering in her mouth until it tickles the inside of her bottom lip. She snaps her jaw closed, clearing her throat sheepishly. Over a minute has passed of her just ogling and she can feel heat layering across her cheeks. She knows Harry probably has the cockiest expression on his face at the moment, obvious in the tone of the next comment he delivers. 

Damn, it’s that bad, huh? Guess I’ll have to change. 

No, it’s perfect. Simple, but effective. Very professional. 

Why, thank you! 

My pleasure.

Here, take this as a token of my appreciation. Hopefully it can help get you through the day. 

This specific photo is taken from an above point of view, as if Y/N were looking down at Harry’s body along with him. His pectorals and stomach muscles appear more defined, tattoos darker and skin more evidently sunkissed. Lower down, there’s the obvious outline of what lies within his boxers, snuggled up against his thick thigh and tempting her to let out a soft whine. Then, resting casually against his abdomen is his free hand, sporting a thumbs-up that gives a purposefully goofy vibe to the risky image. He’s such an idiot. 

The mortal’s answer is just as silly and lighthearted as his gesture. 

Thank you, I’ll keep it locked in my heart forever. 

I wouldn’t want it any other way. 

That’s the first interaction of many that further opens the door to their virtual sex life. Things hardly stay that innocent. 

That night when Y/N gets home from work, they undergo another round of phone sex. It starts off the same: cheeky banter that leads to cheeky pictures that eventually leads to utter filth. 

And that’s how they spend the next few days— taking care of each other’s needs digitally until Friday rolls around. There’s plenty of those encounters, but there’s definitely favorites. 

A session during one of Harry’s self-care baths, when he puts her on speaker and she talks him through tugging one out while the scent of lavender salts— which he’d chosen because they smell like her— leave his heated skin feeling soft and supple. Another instance where he makes her orgasm while she has gotten bored watching a scary movie marathon on her couch, the screams of the horror film mere background noise compared to all the sweet nothings Harry huskily mumbles into her ear, his dominant voice filtering through her headphone and instructing her on how to make herself feel good.

Harry messages her at three A.M. at one point, wide awake as ever, all of his thoughts occupied by the concept of Y/N laying on her tummy between his thighs and sucking him off at a slow pace. He can practically see her small hands wrapped around his girth, stroking up to meet her pretty lips, her tongue lapping at his tip eagerly as she whines around a full mouth. She’s always just so eager. Even at the crack of dawn, she’s awake by some miracle, and happily willing to delve into that fantasy with him. Her soft, timid tone drifts across the shells of his ears, explicitly sketching out how she’d take him all the way down her throat until she gags, and how she’d kiss all over the head of his prick just to smear his precum over her lips to then lick it off, and how she’d rock against his lap fast and hard while he takes her nipples between his teeth. How she wouldn’t stop until he’s dripping down her thighs and groaning into her throat. How she’d let him fuck her as many times as it takes to tire himself out. 

Harry obviously repays her, and it comes in the form of him painting out a scenario where she’s gotten home from a long day at the café. He tells her about how he’d be there waiting for her in nothing but his underwear, sitting back on his elbows in her bed, touching himself over his briefs just at the thought of pleasuring her. About how he’d lay her out and taste every inch of her body with his tongue, and how he’d run his teeth across her inner thighs tenderly while his fingers play with her clit, and how he’d have her ride his face deep and sloppy until she’s shaking and sensitive. How he’d tie her to the bed and toss her legs over his shoulders while he pounds her into the mattress, marking bruises across her neck as she sucks on his fingers and tightens around his cock like “the snug little thing you are.”

They even take their fun out of the confines of their houses and into public settings, just to give it an adrenaline high. Those situations are foreplay; it’s how they prep each other throughout the day for when they’re both finally alone and can truly help one another to the fullest. 

It happens Thursday on two occasions. 

First, to Y/N, who is sitting in the backroom on her lunch break, though she’s barely touched her food. She’s much more interested in what Harry has to say. Much more interested in how he says he wishes he could be there with her right now. That she could sneak him in through the back door of the restaurant and they could lock themselves in that tiny supply room, making sure no one would disturb what he’s about to do to her. That he would drop to his knees and drag her jeans down her legs, pressing damp kisses in the denim’s wake, biting hickies in the areas he knows she loves to receive them. He would mount her knees over his shoulders and bury his face between her thighs, looking up at her through heavy lashes as he licks into her desperately. He would have her grab onto his curls and guide his tongue just the way she likes it, and she’d have to bite into her cheek to keep from getting caught. 

He talks about how he’d take her against the supply shelves, one hand clamped over her mouth while he pants praise into her ear, her body jolting roughly upwards against the surface as she clings to his back. How he’d hold her up with the other arm and slam her down onto his cock, cooing things like, “Gotta keep quiet for me, sweetheart. Can’t make you cum if we get caught.” and “Such a filthy girl, sneaking me in here just to fuck you. Baby just wants to walk around the rest of the day full of me, doesn’t she?” 

That fantasy leaves her in a bothered haze the rest of the work day. It’s bad enough that she almost drops her tray three different times and has to ask multiple customers to repeat their orders. 

Y/N gets back at Harry, though. That revenge is the second occasion. 

The vampire had mentioned that he would be going out with his friends that evening to a bar and she takes full advantage of that. When the picture comes through, Harry nearly spits out his Manhattan drink. 

He’s sitting in a booth surrounded by his entire group and he’d been talking shit with Niall about golf. The vampire doesn’t care for the sport, but Niall loves it, and Harry loves getting on Niall’s nerves, therefore it’s all pretty self-explanatory. Mitch and Adam join in, with Mitch obviously supporting Harry, when he randomly decides to check his notifications. Even in the shrunken little banner, Harry can immediately tell the photo is graphic. Xander asks if he’s alright, telling him he looks freakishly pale and to get his eyes under control because they're in public. Harry blinks the red from his irises, hurriedly excusing himself and clambering up from his seat, jetting across the restaurant towards the restrooms. It’s occupied, much to his luck, so he settles for simply pressing his back against the wall of the corridor, leaning his head against the bricks and taking deep breaths to calm the raging in his stomach. He gingerly opens the message and his knees nearly give out. 

The image is taken from the back, probably using a timer. Y/N is wearing one of her big tees and another pair of cheeky lace panties, but this time around, they’re pastel peach and crotchless. She’s bent over with her ass up and spine arched, knees parted for balance, her shirt bunching downwards due to the angle. Her arms are pulled behind her back and her chest is flushed to the bed, wrists crossed submissively as she gazes at the camera over her shoulder. There’s an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes and he can tell she had sent this now on purpose just to fuck with him, knowing good and well that he was out and occupied.

The shot is more than he can handle and he has to swallow down the urge to stomp out of the bar, get into his car, race to her flat, and make her rethink her decision. Preferably, in the form of harsh spanks and overstimulation. He can see everything— the intentional rip at the crotch of the panties are meant for that sole reason. The closer he looks, he comes to realize that she’s wet, which in turn means she had been touching herself. She’d set this up perfectly, knowing that he’d easily be able to deduce that fact and that it would haunt him for the rest of the night. 

The monster releases a quivering exhale, typing back slowly and carefully, sight bleary. 

You’re going to regret that. 

Pinky promise?

///

When Harry arrives at Y/N’s apartment the next night, as he has for the last three Fridays, he doesn’t saunter up to her door and bang on it angrily. He doesn’t grab her by her hair and drag her into her room, how he’d intended. He doesn’t even have a single cinch in his sculpted brows. 

Instead, he raps softly on the door with one jeweled knuckle and waits calmly. 

The human goes to answer, her stomach twisting in excitement at all the possibilities of what punishment she might face for her antics. A small, sly smile buckles the corners of her lips at the thought, her fingers trembling as they wrap around her cold doorknob. She expects to find a furrow-browed, intense-eyed, red-faced Harry behind the threshold, who would shove past her, nab her by the arm, and throw her onto her bed. She expects him to yank his belt from around his hips while a distinct darkness swallows his emerald irises, his mouth curling into a sinister grin. She expects him to roughly command she get on her hands and knees, his palm finding the back of her head to shove her face-first into the sheets while he rips her panties down her legs and drags the cool leather of his accessory over her backside tauntingly.

What she gets is something— and someone— completely the opposite. 

When her door swings open, Harry is standing standing there, sure. But instead of looming over her with flaring nostrils and cruel intent, he’s decided to lean against the door frame with his arms folded casually. His body is completely empty of tension, his ankles are crossed offhandedly, and a small, bright red paper bag full of sparkly black tissue paper is hanging off his wrist. His expression is a relaxed facade of indifference, lips set into his usual signature smirk, no explosive emotions present whatsoever. 

That startles Y/N. This has to be an act; it feels like the calm before a violent storm and it has her shifting in her socked feet. Did he...Did he forget what she did? 

There’s no way he forgot. It was too brazen a move to dismiss.

Harry steps forward into her home, comfortable enough that he no longer has to wait for an invitation. Y/N moves to the side to let him through, hesitantly closing the entrance behind him, contemplating the man as if he were a ticking bomb. She does a quick sweep of his physique, looking for some other clue as to what he could be plotting, aside from the mysterious gift bag in his hand. He’s wearing a pair of flared denim jeans, a white tee with a royal blue cartoon bee printed in the center along with the words Enjoy health! Eat your honey! surrounding it, his white Vans, and an oversized colorful patch-work cardigan. The outfit is surprisingly domestic compared to his usual taste, but she finds it’s easily one of her favorite fits on him. He just looks so boyish adorable. 

The human comes up with nothing suspicious, glancing back up to lock eyes with her guest. Harry beams at her innocently and she knows for sure he’s planning something, but she can’t place what. 

“I got you this.” The vampire speaks up first, holding out the paper bag towards Y/N with his index finger, bouncing it encouragingly. “Take a peek.” 

The girl accepts the gift gingerly, giving him one more hard look before breaking away to investigate what lies beneath the tissue paper. She pulls out a small cardboard box, her eyes squinting slightly as she reads its print and surveys the label. The image on the surface appears to be of five silicone finger gloves, each about the size of a thumbtack, tiny metal plates embedded into the pads. She’s voicing her curiosity before she’s even finished studying the container. 

“What...What are these?”

Harry rolls his eyes jokingly, tapping the object for emphasis. “Read the fine print, love.” 

Y/N focuses on the region he’d pointed out, reciting aloud. “‘Vibrating silicone finger gloves. For the use of personal pleasure or with partners.’”

Then it all clicks. 

“Oh my God, you got me— what?!” Y/N’s head snaps up in shock, mouth parted and brows creased. “Harry, what?”

The young man laughs airily, gently opening the seal of the box in her hands, which she is now holding as if it were a weapon of mass destruction. It’s such a weird present to give in general, moreso all out of the blue, so she can’t be blamed for her reaction.

He uncaps the packaging, rummaging through its contents and pulling out two of the tiny rubbery gloves. They’re transparent and ribbed, obviously meant to deliver as many sensations as possible, and they’re about two inches in length. He slips them onto his index and middle finger, making scissoring motions for the purpose of symbolism, but mainly just to watch Y/N fidget. “I remember how you said you don’t have sex toys because you’d never really thought about buying any, so I went and picked these up down at my favorite shop. Jessi said they’re good for beginners.”

“Jessi?” Y/N’s voice is tight. She’s not sure how to respond to this; she’s never been in this situation before. No one has ever just given her a sex toy as if a were a candy bar. “Who’s Jessi and why do they need to know about my sex life?”

“She’s the manager.” Harry says matter-of-factly. He doesn’t seem to find anything strange about this encounter. “She helped me pick out my first pocket vag, so I trust her with my soul. Here, look. You just slip them on and—” He makes finger thrusting motions in the air, wiggling his digits playfully. “Big O. Not as good as what I can give you, obviously, but close enough.”

“Harry, you do realize this is a little…odd, right?”

The boy blinks at Y/N blankly. “What? Why? Sex is literally the basis of this whole thing.” He signals back and forth between them with his gloved forefinger. “It’s really not that weird at all, if y’think about it.”

“I just...it’s like…” 

Her argument fizzles to an end the longer she stares at him. He has the most wholesome expression painted across his handsome features, his eyes glossy with excitement. He looks genuinely elated about the present and she can’t find it in herself to question him any further. As unorthodox as this may be, it’s the first true act of kindness anyone has shown Y/N since she had moved to California. It’s the first time anyone has given the girl anything without her having to request it. She comes to the realization that Harry really is the only friend she has at the moment, and she refuses to pick and prod at that, lest he retract from her on the grounds that she’s ungrateful. Yes, this is a little atypical, but so is their whole dynamic. In his own twisted way, this is how Harry shows his friendship. 

The more she ponders on it, she starts to understand that this truly is something she should accept. He went out of his way to get her this gift, which solidifies their acquaintanceship. It’s sweet.

“You know what, never mind. Thank you! I love them.” 

The giddy smile that cracks his face melts her heart. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

Harry then softly grasps her hand with his, tugging her down the entrance hallway, his intentions set on her bedroom. His voice takes on a deeper sultry twang, the corners of his mouth twitching suggestively. “Because on my way here, I was thinking, yeah? And I figured: who better to teach you how to use these than the person who picked them out.”

“Of fucking course.” Y/N huffs in amusement, shaking her head but allowing herself to be guided forward. “I should’ve known you had an ulterior motive.” 

“Heyyyyy!” Harry’s whine is offended, but the coy simper dimpling his cheeks ruins any defense he could possibly try to spin. “This isn’t an ulterior motive, it’s simply a supporting one.”

“Right.” Y/N states flatly, shuffling forward slowly as he backs down her corridor, momentarily glancing over his shoulder to orient himself. “Buying a fuck buddy a sex toy is totally selfless and mutually exclusive of the agreement.”

Harry takes a turn and crosses the threshold into her bedroom, releasing her arm and instead, he opts for wrapping his fist into the loose material of her large Transformers tee, twisting the fabric around his knuckles and giving it a sharp yank. She stumbles into his chest and almost drops the box. 

The vampire gazes down at her with half-lidded eyes, long lashes tempting and plush lips the color of roses. “I never said it was mutually exclusive. I just said it wasn’t meant to be evidently inclusive.” 

He takes the box from her grip, sliding it onto her nightstand so that any obstacles between them are eliminated. He beckons her closer with a flick of his wrist, feeling heat erupt across his chest as her palms slap down against it to steady herself. She’s always so warm, almost like a furnace. It’s a nice contrast to his ever-present coldness.

Harry’s cupped fingers nurse the slope of her jaw, tilting her chin up to level his, Cupid’s bow ghosting over her own teasingly as a grin threatens to betray him. His accent is thick, heavy with condescension. “Now do you want me to fuck you or not?”

Y/N gulps audibly, the sudden jump in her heart rate causing Harry’s cock to give a foreshadowing twitch in his designer jeans. Her eyes soften with a form of weepy desire, head nodding in his grasp. 

Harry’s top teeth catch on his lower lip as he appraises her from over the crest of his defined cheekbones. “I don’t think I heard you, pet. Must be the AC draft.”

The mortal’s eyes fall shut as she composes herself, a shaky sigh faltering past her nostrils. She tips forward onto her toes, connecting her itching mouth to his. Harry allows it, listing his head to the side to grant her more access, his free arm roping across the dip of her spine and pressing her front flushed to his. The kiss is soft and heated, full of drunken tongues and muffled whimpers. It’s tame compared to most of the others they’ve shared, but Harry likes it. It’s sloppy and intimate; only the beginning of what he knows will be a long night. 

Her words sting the ridges of his lips, hot and bated. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Harry speaks into her mouth, tone gentle but packing a punch. “Get my belt off for me, will you? I’m tying you to the bed tonight.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice, a dark chuckle vibrating across his tongue when her fingers immediately begin to fumble with his belt buckle. 

Once Harry has looped the leather tightly around Y/N’s wrists and has knotted them to one of the wooden railings of her headboard, he sits back on his heels to admire his work. Y/N is splayed out across her mattress with her arms suspended above her head, bare thighs clasped in anticipation as her t-shirt gathers around her waist. Her hands are curled into fists, nails digging into her palms as she watches Harry leisurely shrug off his cardigan, keeping eye contact with her the whole way through. His tattoos stand out against the buttery light of the single lamp on the table, tanned arms flexing sinfully. 

He shifts around, laying down onto his stomach and coasting his palms up her quivering legs, kissing over her kneecaps and along the crease of her inner thighs, bunching her shirt further up her body as he goes. As soon as he spots the first garter, he blacks out for a millisecond, vision washing red. 

“Fuck, wait— did you…?” His voice is strained and desperate as he shoves the rest of her clothes up her torso, pulling her shirt over her head and letting it rest at her elbows. He hums appreciatively when he’s met with the full cherry-colored lingerie set from a few days ago, garters and all. “God, you did.”

Y/N’s gaze falls timidly, a sheepish smile brushing over her face. “I thought you’d want to see it in person, since you seemed to like it so much.” 

“Mm...” Harry struggles to swallow, fingers hooking under the straps that clip to the hem of her underwear, pulling the fabric from her skin and letting them snap back into place. He revels in the tiny noise she lets slip, the pads of his digits now toying across the frilly bands encircling her upper legs. After a thoughtful heartbeat, Harry speaks up, wistful but vehement. “I’m going to make you soil your sheets again.” 

Y/N bucks a tad at his promise, wrists stressing against the leather belt, but Harry’s practiced enough bondage in his lifetime to know she won’t be getting out anytime soon. He parts her knees open with his palms, dragging his silicone-covered fingers down her clothed clit and tutting when she lets out a stuttery gasp. 

“Always so sensitive, aren’t you, angel?” The vampire pets at her core patiently, heat pooling at the base of his abdomen as he feels her panties damped with every stroke of his touch. “Christ, you’re already soaking through.”  

“Want more.” The girl’s plead is strangled as she actively forces herself to keep her legs wide open, knowing that if she were to allow them to snap shut, Harry would only pry them apart again. “I’ve been thinking about this all week. Please.”

“All week?” Harry drags tongue across the inside of her thigh, nipping at the flesh tauntingly, the amber specks in his eyes glittering amidst his lashes. He continues to rub through her underwear, drinking up all the little noises streaming from her throat. “Tread lightly, dove. You’re swelling my ego.”

“I just…” Her hips give another jerk when he wriggles two rubber-clad fingers into the crotch of her bottoms, spreading her open just a bit and grinning against her skin at how wet she’s become. “I just need it hard tonight, Harry. Need you to leave me sore.” 

“I always leave you sore.” The monster reasons mockingly, taking one of the garters between his teeth and tugging, releasing so it stings her like before. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.” 

Y/N trembles out an exhale, gathering herself enough to give him what he wants. “I need you to fuck me like you hate me.”

Harry grabs onto either sides of her panties, slowly peeling them down her legs and then scooting closer forward, planting an open-mouthed kiss right onto her bare clit. She mewls in return, her restraints creaking the bed. He continues pressing messy wet pecks to her cunt, feeling her tense up each time his soft lips suckle her fervently. 

“Is that why you sent that picture?” Harry wonders aloud, pausing his motions and raising one eyebrow at her. “Because you wanted me mad?”

The human nods, face wracked with guilt. It’s cute that she feels bad, especially because Harry had, in actuality, enjoyed her little stunt. Seeing her bent over like that, in a position that shows she couldn’t wait to please him— that she couldn’t wait until Friday came around so he could do to her whatever he deemed fit...It was the best form of edging he’s ever experienced. But for the sake of giving her what she wants, he’ll bite the bait. 

Harry rises up onto his knees, parting her thighs further as he fits himself between them, the pads of his gloved digits dancing across the thick of her damp clit. He bends down until his nose smudges over hers, the breath of his low words hot against her parted mouth. 

“Well, it fucking worked.”  

Harry taps his index and middle fingers against his palm in one quick flick and the tiny metal plates situated along the tips purr to life. He sinks knuckle-deep inside of Y/N, cold rings catching on her folds as he curls upwards to get at that special spot that resides along the pit of her tummy. The moan she releases it so raw and broken, it sends a zip of lightning through his veins. 

He fucks her like that for a while, with his strong chest poised against her heaving own as he marks love bites onto the cleavage spilling from her lace bra, his skilled fingers pumping into her at a harsh pace that has her legs shaking on either sides. He thumbs over her clit messily, the silicone molds sending waves of vibrations through her clenching walls as he relentlessly toys with her g-spot, her arms thrashing against his belt. Fragmented sounds of bliss freely stream from Y/N’s mouth without shame, his name intermingling amongst the whimpers as her head throws back against the headboard. Harry grips her throat in one hand, holding her to the sturdy surface as his other bobs between her thighs roughly, the bed groaning as a result of their intense actions. His wrist begins to ache from how hard he’s going, but the tears trickling out from the corners of Y/N’s eyes and the way she’s panting into his mouth are enough to keep him going.

“Look at me.” Harry squeezes her jugular tighter, garnering attention. She forces her eyelids open, inhales hiccuping when he braces his cool forehead to hers, his irises the color of a forest at midnight, pupils blown out of proportion. His teeth dig into her bottom lip just to feel it swell, a growl stirring the gravel in his chest. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Y-Yes.” Y/N boggles her head feverishly, glimpsing down over her sweaty cheeks to see the way his veins are chiseling along the forearm that is flexing between her drenched thighs. “Fuck, it’s so g-good.”

“Yeah? How about we go a little higher, hm?” Harry scrapes the pads of his fingers against that spongy place inside her, pressing the vibrators down and the motion clicks the toy into a higher level of intensity. 

Y/N writhes in his grasp, back arching off the headboard as deeper, more concentrated rumbles lap throughout her body. “Harry— I— that’s— God, just please!”

Harry takes ahold of her jaw as he continues finger-fucking her without remorse, his short breaths warm against her burning lips. “That’s my girl. Taking it hard and loving every second.” 

Y/N’s eyes lull back into her head. She doesn’t know why, but hearing Harry call her his girl satisfies her in a manner so deep, she didn’t know it existed. Just hearing him recognize her as his— as something he claims for himself, almost like an extension of who he is— stirs a foreign form of fulfillment in the back of her mind. 

“I’m—” The girl chokes on her sentence, finding it difficult to concentrate with so much pleasure coursing through her system, as well as with Harry painting hickies across the side of her strained neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

The immortal’s voice is stern and authoritative. “No, you’re not.” 

“I am, I can’t hold—”

“Yes,” Harry’s grip firms, pace sharpening into unapologetic slams, “you can. And you will. If you cum before I let you, you’re not getting anything else from me for the rest of the night. Do I make myself clear?”

Y/N’s cunt tightens around his fingers, warning him that she’s about to peak. “Harry, I’m sorry—but— but I—”

“Do I make myself clear?” 

Y/N has no hope that she can keep it in, but she adores the darkness swirling in Harry’s eyes at the moment and she’ll do anything if it means getting to witness it for a while longer. “Yes.” 

“Good.” She winces when she feels his teeth skim her earlobe, his whisper dripping with arrogant amusement. “I told you I’d make you regret it.” 

And he really does keep his oath. Minutes simulate hours as Harry continues to flirt her just along the seams of relief, pulling her back every time he sees her about to tip. Whenever he feels her begin to spasm around his slick fingers, he gives her a cautionary quirk of his brows accompanied by a testing, throaty, “Don’t you fucking dare.” or a simple, silent shake of his head. By some miracle, she manages to reign herself in every time, but each ruined orgasm makes it harder and harder to stifle the next. She doesn’t know how many times it happens; she stops counting after four. 

After what feels like decades of torture, Harry finally releases his hold around her jugular, allowing her to properly gulp air for the first time in a while. He sits back against his heels, pulling his hand from between her thighs with a sarcastic sympathetic hiss. “Poor thing.” 

He watches as a trail of her juices strings from his digits to her cunt, eventually snapping in the middle as he lifts his hand to study his work. Her release drips down his knuckles and palm, gleaming in the dim lighting. A mildly sadistic glint washes over Harry’s irises and for a split second, they look almost red, but Y/N dismisses it. Her brain is too fogged to trust right now. 

The boy’s sight flickers past his hand to where Y/N lies limply, wrists bruised from the bonds, arms quivering weakly, and legs trembling in overstimulation. He’s never seen her look more beautiful than now. 

He locks his bright eyes to her exhausted own, watching them shatter to pieces when he pushes his drenched fingers past his pillowy blushed lips. His lashes flutter as her taste washes across his tongue, sweet and decadent as always, a soft groan thrumming deep in his throat. God, he can only imagine how delectable her blood must be at the moment, honeyed by the plethora of endorphins he had repeatedly coaxed into her. He can't wait to feel its warmth fill his mouth later tonight.

Harry removes his fingers with a wet pop, licking across the back of his hand with finality and giving her a daring once-over. “Do you still want my cock? Or are you too sensitive for it, darling?”

He sounds so conceited and self-assured, it causes Y/N’s pride to flare. She wants to make him eat his stupid words.  

The mortal licks her chapped lips, wetting her dry throat and clearing it softly, wiping away the sweat on her forehead with her shoulder. “I still want it.” 

An impressed expression decorates Harry’s features. “You think you can take it?”

Y/N’s jaw clenches with dedication, her thighs spreading open a tad more and she wills herself not to flinch. Her chin cocks upwards. “I know I can.” 

Harry’s brows kink challengingly, a borderline evil smirk sewing onto his face. “Let’s see, then.” 

As it turns out, Y/N can take it. However, she knows for a fact she won’t be able to walk right for at least the next week.

Harry lowers his jeans and kicks them off, reaching into his navy briefs and tugging himself out, giving his length a few pumps for good measure as he shifts forward toward her. He flips the girl onto her belly as easily as he’d turn a sheet of paper, tying one arm around her hips and lifting them up as he slides a pillow below. He situates her accordingly onto the cushion, her ass slightly elevated to give him more range of depth. He pats at her backside lightly, telling her to part her knees and she does so obediently, gripping onto the leather strap around her wrists anxiously when she feels the bed shift with his weight. Harry lowers himself over her body, the tee covering his broad chest soaking up the thin sheet of sweat on her back. He moves all of her tangled hair to the side, burying his fingers into her roots and yanking her head back cheekily. He runs his nose across her damp cheekbone and chuckles when she jumps slightly at the feathery sensation. 

“You’re pretty stubborn, aren’t you?” 

Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip as she struggles to swallow, throat taut from the angle he’s put her in. Her voice carries a confident bite, despite her compromisable position. “I like to think I am, yeah.” 

“Well, you know what that makes you, right?” Harry murmurs as he lines himself up with her entrance. 

“Mm-mm. What?” 

The vampire presses a lingering kiss to the tittering pulse in her temple, feeling it thunder below his skin as he forms his next comment slowly with an ominous edge. “It makes you a brat.” 

He feels her heartbeat trip. 

“And you know what I do to brats?” 

Y/N shakes her head as much as his dominant grasp will allow, body tightening in suspense. 

“I fuck them until they break.” 

Y/N learns that he’s telling the truth. The first thrust Harry delivers is swift, hard, and unbelievably deep; it causes her to let out a choked scream that no one else has ever drawn from her before, except for him. It’s like he can tap into certain aspects of her body she was unaware of; parts of her waiting for the right person to come along and reveal them. She feels that stroke rip into her tummy, but the pain of his size is something she’s become accustomed to in the last three weeks. She hardly feels it anymore; it had molded from a sharp throb to a dull ache, due to how often she’s experienced it. 

Harry doesn’t waste any time, quickly picking up a sloppy, adamant pace that has her hips bouncing against the mattress. He twists her hair around his fist, mouth pressed to the side of her head as his hot pants of exertion send a prickling through her scalp. His other forearm keeps him anchored to the bed as he pounds into her with absolutely no hesitation, the sound of skin slapping, cracked whines, and raspy grunts filling the tense atmosphere of her chilly room. 

“Is this what you were hoping would happen when you sent that slutty picture?” Harry grits out, short nails digging into the comforter beneath. “Wanted to get me all riled up just so I’d do your back in?”

Y/N mewls weakly in response, hands clinging to each other within the makeshift cuffs. 

“If you wanted me to fuck you like I hate you, you could have just asked. I’m more than happy to give you whatever you want. You don’t have to tempt me.” The vampire gives a particularly deep slam, laughing breathily when the girl’s back instinctively arches forward, paired with a watery yelp of, “Oh!”

Harry’s tongue grazes across the shell of her ear, teeth catching the skin. “But since you did, I’ll give it to you just— like—that.” His thrusts match to each word, fingers coiling harder into her locks. “You deserve it. Especially when you had the nerve to act like such a spoiled little brat right to my face.” 

Y/N’s not sure what emboldens her to speak, but her snarky remark is already halfway down her numb tongue before she can stop it. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”

Harry hums tauntingly, circling his hips in long strides that urge a series of fractured whimpers to scrape out of Y/N’s sore throat. “Say it again. Go ahead, say it. I want to see you try.”

She remains silent, spine shuddering as she bites down on her tongue to avoid making any more noises that might condemn her.  

Harry roughly cranes Y/N’s neck to the side, buttoning their lips together in a filthy kiss that has her cheeks boiling. “That’s what I thought. The only thing that sharp tongue is good for is licking down my cock.” 

She gasps against his mouth shakily, tears of sheer bliss gathering along her waterline. “You’re such a fucking asshole.” 

Harry can tell her comment holds no true malice behind it; she’s too sweet on him— too whipped on what he gives her— to ever mean it. She’d only said it to provoke him into a power dynamic struggle. But the thing is, Harry’s dealt with feeling powerless before, so he had spent years teaching himself how to win. How to always win. 

“Am I, now?” His next line dismantles her entire plan. “Would an asshole let you cum?”

And just like that, her whole demeanor crumbles. “I take it back. I’m s-sorry.”

Harry releases her hair and nips at her ear mockingly, beginning to withdraw himself. “Oh, I think it’s a bit too late for that, minx.”

“No, no! Harry, please. I’m sorry. Genuinely. I promise I won’t say it again. Just…” She tugs helplessly at the belt restraints, trying to twist around to look at him directly. Her voice is wringed out. “Just please.”

The boy pushes a few stringy curls out of his eyes, pressing his tongue into his cheek coyly as he glances down, suggestively smoothing one hand over her ass. He gives it a firm squeeze, lifting his palm teasingly and feeling her tense in anticipation. “Do you want it?”

Y/N glimpses at his bejeweled hand with hunger, then back at his eyes. “Yes.”

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it.”

“Sorry, I seem to have forgotten what ‘it’ was, exactly. Jog my memory, will you? What is it you want?”

Her irises harden in spite at his shit-eating comment. He’s well aware of how shy she can be when it comes to admitting she wants a spanking, and he’s playing that to his advantage. He’s swimming in the way she squirms. 

“I...I want you to spank me.”

He tsks, shaking his head as he twists his HS rings around to face inwards. “You forgot something.” 

Y/N’s fingers tighten into begrudging fists. “I want you to spank me, please.”

“There’s a good girl.” His low, accented purr sends electricity through her nerves. “You’re so cute when you beg.”

Harry’s hand comes down swiftly, digits fanned out so that all of his rings print across her backside. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to leave a satisfying sting. He loves the way she jolts forward with a hushed curse of surprise, and he adores seeing the shape of his initials marked across her clammy skin. It’s poetic, almost.

“So pretty.” His mumble is wistful as he massages deeply over the region he had just bruised, but it holds unyielding authority. “Whose is it, doll?”

“Yours.” 

“And don’t you fucking forget it.” The creature lifts one palm to do it again, pausing once more just to rev her further. He reaches forward with the other, shoving her face-first into the mattress to get her back to straighten out. “Look forward and don’t make a single sound.”

Y/N obeys, but manages to sneak a peek at his reflection through the waxy wooden surface of her aged bedframe. He looks so good perched behind her with bare heaving shoulders, looking down at her exposed figure over the crests of his sharp cheekbones, brows furrowed into a starved expression that gives away he’s enjoying this probably more than she is. Her voice comes out small and weak. “Yes, sir.”

Harry’s entire face tightens at the word and she feels him throb against her backside. 

“Now beg me to let you cum.”

///

The next morning when Y/N’s eyes flutter open to the grey light streaking in through her curtains, the first thing she senses is a pair of eyes staring at the side of her face. 

She turns her stiff body over toward where the sensation stems and sure enough, she’s met with a pair of sea glass irises filled to the brim with humor. Harry’s laying on his side with his hands tucked below one of her pillows, tousled ringlets sticking up in wild tuffs (thanks to the activities they’d engaged yesterday), he’s completely bare since he likes sleeping nude (though he’d had the decency to cover himself with sheets from the waist down), and his voice is slower and raspier than usual (a result of being dormant for the last eight or so hours). 

“You drool in your sleep.” 

Y/N tucks her hands against Harry’s cold pectorals, snuggling deeper into his chest and pinching at one of his nipples in playful revenge. “No, I don’t.” 

“Yes,” he reaches up and shoos her hand away, proceeding to wipe at the side of her mouth, where dried spit had accumulated. He makes a theatrical gagging face, cleaning his thumb off across the collar of her t-shirt. “You do.”

Y/N sighs in exasperation, making a bold leap to a different topic to avoid talking about her embarrassing sleep habits. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you staring at people while they sleep is weird? Like, serial killer weird?” 

Harry tucks a few matted strands of hair behind the human’s ear, thumbing over her cheekbone tenderly. He hardly ever indulges in such actions, simply because they’re typically reserved for actual couples, which he and Y/N are definitely not. But last night— after he had finally finished being a prick and allowed her cum along with him, and after she had fallen into the bed with exhaustion taking her under, and after he’d had his greedy fill of her blood for the week— he’d gotten bored of playing on his phone. He’d burned through three cold case documentaries on Netflix and played enough Mario Kart to memorize the race charts; it had grown old quickly, and he eventually just locked the device and placed it on her nightstand. He spent the next hour staring at her hideous ceiling, and the one after that fantasizing about taking down her tapestry and burning it in the oven. And finally, after hours of mindless daydreams and letting his eyes chase the city lights dancing across the walls of her room, he had settled onto his side and watched her sleep. 

Harry did it simply because he had nothing else to distract him. He figured it would eventually bore him enough that maybe— just maybe, if he was lucky— he would fall asleep alongside her. But he didn’t, so he just ended up gazing at her slumbering face until dawn. He had been surprised by how oddly beautiful Y/N looked sleeping— how relaxed and tranquil, with her features soft and skin seemingly made of flawless porcelain. That intrigue had bled into the moment they share now, resulting in his touch drifting down the curve of her jaw and across the faint dimple on her chin. He follows the slope of her neck and admires the smoothness of her flesh with the ridges of his fingertips, hearing her breathing stutter ever so slightly. His heightened senses make it feel as if he’s running his digits over velvet and the only concept he can compare it to is touching forbidden artwork at an exhibit. It’s exciting, but he knows that if he keeps going, he could end up getting himself into a crock of shit. 

When the pads of his fingers land on two prominent purple bruises he’d forgotten existed, he’s broken from his soft stupor. He retracts his touch as if she were made of iron, forcing himself to ignore the pout that automatically plumps her delicate lips. 

He clears his throat awkwardly, a tight chuckle stringing his vocal chords. “Staring at someone in their sleep seemed to work just fine for Edward Cullen, though.” 

Y/N snorts sharply, rolling her eyes up towards her headboard. When she sees his belt is still hanging off of it from the night prior, she hurriedly glances back down, pretending not to have seen it. 

“It’s funny you say that because as I recall, he literally admitted to being a murderer. I believe his exact words were,” she exaggerates her voice into an angsty cry, grasping at her chest dramatically, “‘This is the skin of a killer, Bella!’”

Harry bursts into boyish giggles, falling fully onto his back and swiping his palm up his face, fingers remaining perched over his closed eyes as he laughs. He sighs airily, shaking his head as an afterthought. “What a moron.” 

“Truly. His dad was hotter.” 

“Way hotter.” Harry agrees passionately, burying his hand into his messy curls, attempting to comb out some of the tangles. “And he was a doctor. What a man.” 

“Bella really fucked that one up. She had a midlife crisis over choosing between a sad vampire who looked like he had chronic constipation, and a yappy dog with a shirt phobia. All when Carlisle was right there. Brain damage, honestly.” 

“A moment of prayer for the mentally incapacitated. Couldn't be me!”

“Couldn’t be me, either.”   

“Fuck, yeah.” Harry throws his hand up, inviting Y/N to give him a high five. “To good taste.”

She gladly delivers. “Exquisite taste.”

An instance of comfortable silence suspends between the pair of lovers, filled with the soft thrum of the air vent and the distant chirping of birds outside Y/N’s windowpane. She traces her index nail over the wings of the swallow tattoos along Harry’s collarbones, seeming to be deep in thought. She then speaks up once again.

“Emmett was pretty hot, as well.” 

“You know what? I’m happy you mentioned that ‘cause— full disclosure here— I’d ride him like a fucking bull.” 

Now it’s Y/N’s turn to explode in a fit of giggles, nose scrunching and eyes crinkling shut as she loses herself at Harry’s graphic confession. 

“Why are you laughing?!” The fact that he sounds genuinely appalled only spurs her sounds of glee. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t take that chance if you got it. Like, okay, he’s an airhead, yeah? I’m aware. But fuck’s sake, look at his body. I’d happily let him beat me at arm wrestling if it means I get that celebratory dick afterwards.”

The mortal manages to calm down a handful of heartbeats later and Harry feels strangely proud of how he’d made her pulse spike. 

“You’re valid for that, don’t worry. I couldn’t have said it—” A single giggle interupts her sentence, but she reigns it in before it can spiral. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Literally. There’s no way to express it better than exactly how you stated it.” 

Harry smirks softly up at the ceiling, folding his free arm behind his head as the other wraps securely down Y/N’s back, absentmindedly rubbing in gentle soothing circles. “My mind. It’s amazing, innit?”

“It’s definitely something.” 

Another span of cozy quietness fills the atmosphere of the room, longer than the last. Harry doesn’t mind. He finds it appeasing, and he continues to delight himself with running his touch up and down Y/N’s spine. He’s not sure how much time passes, but he’s aware that it’s probably a bit. His theory is supported by how he witnesses the beam of watery light that filters over the duvet gradually fade from silver to a sunflower yellow, indicating full daybreak. 

Even then, he doesn’t say a word, too caught up in this innocent bubble of domestic bliss to pop it so suddenly. He just lays there and listens. Listens to the birds harmonizing with each other across the branches of the tree outside. To the steady breaths that fill Y/N’s lungs with cool air, faltering past her nostrils in the same manner and fogging the metal of his cross necklace. To the faint sound of footsteps trotting down the staircase outside her apartment, and to the vague spritz of the sprinkler system going off at the front of the complex. To the distant honking of car horns in traffic, and to a random conversation between two friends as they walk past the pavement just under Y/N’s balcony. He hasn’t felt this at ease in eons. 

Harry just allows himself to grow in tune with the world around him— a world he’d been convinced was against him for the longest time. A world he was convinced stole his happiness and replaced it with the shackles of a blood-driven afterlife, for no other reason than because he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and met the wrong person. But now, he feels like he’s in the right place, at the right time, spending it with the right person— or at least a half-decent person— and he doesn’t want to let it slip between his fingers so soon. He wants to bask in it, even if he knows it’ll pass. 

And eventually, it does pass, and Y/N is the one who brings it to an end. 

The girl slowly peels away from Harry’s side, his lips dipping downwards slightly at the loss of the warmth she radiates. He thinks she’s about to get up to probably go use the bathroom or to make breakfast, but instead, she just bends her upper body over the edge of her bed to retrieve something from the floor. She comes back up with the box he’d brought her the evening before (which had ended up on the ground as a result of her bed rocking violently), setting it in the small space between their laps. She then returns to her place cuddled into his torso, looking up at him with an expression that Harry can only interpret as expecting. 

The vampire glances down at the container and then back up to Y/N’s face, raising his eyebrows curiously, voice tinged with comedy. “What did I say about bringing sex toys to the dinner table?”

Y/N stares up at him flatly for a second, fighting off a smile. “I just wanted to thank you again. It’s nice of you to bring me a present, even as strange as this one.” 

Harry sucks at his teeth, waving a hand dismissively, blinking down at her with slyness sparkling around his pupils. “What are friends for, if not for buying you vibrating finger gloves and then fucking you with them until you cry?”

Despite having been acquainted with Harry’s crude humor for three weeks now, it still manages to make Y/N’s cheeks sizzle. It could also be the fact that this is the first time Harry has openly accepted Y/N as a friend. It’s the first time he’s ever mentioned her name and that word in the same sentence, meaning that she can now shake a weight off her shoulders— a weight that had insisted he was only using her for sex, that he would eventually grow bored of her, and that he would throw her away once he was done. It’s good to know that’s not the case, and that the friendship aspect of their agreement is true to its name. 

“Right.” Y/N’s smile is full of so much genuine warmth, Harry feels like she could outshine the sun. “What are friends for, if not that. Thanks, Harry.” 

He wonders what she’s thinking, and he finds himself wishing that he had the one valid trait that idiot Edward Cullen possesses: mind-reading. But he doesn’t have it, so he simply returns her gesture and skates the conversation how he best deems fit. “You don’t have to call me ‘Harry’ all the time, you know?” 

Y/N’s brows cinch in entertained confusion. “What would I call you, then? Sherlock?” 

Harry scoffs lightly at the inside joke, shrugging one shoulder casually. “I mean, you could, if you want to. It might take some getting used to, but I think I can shoulder a full-time second identity. Just for you.” 

“How chivalrous.”

“You ain’t ever met a man like me, sweetheart.” He boasts in an over-the-top American southern accent, prying another round of laughter from Y/N, similar to the one before. “But you could also just call me ‘H.’ It’s what most of my other friends use.” 

“H.” Y/N repeats, getting a taste for the new nickname. It’s simple, unlike him, but it somehow fits. She then recalls something from a show she’d watched when she was younger and she can’t help but bring it up. “So, like, just your first initial? Like in Gossip Girl?”

Harry’s face immediately drops at the comparison she makes to the cringey teenage soap opera. “You know what, I take it back. You’re not allowed to use it. Illegal. Banned. By an official court. Gavel and all.”

“I’m just making a point!”

“Yeah, a shitty one.” 

“Oh, whatever. You’re just mad I debunked your little hipster alter ego. ‘That’s a secret I’ll never tell. Xoxo, H.’”

“Restraining order.” Harry pinches at one of her love handles, an evil grin dimpling his cheeks when she squeals. “Actually, nevermind. We’re going straight to the electric chair. Immediately.” 

“You don’t get to decide my punishment, remember?” Y/N slaps at his wrists, trying to ward off his attacks but failing miserably. “You’re just the—stop!— just the executioner.” 

“That’s right. I get to strap you to the chair.” Harry finally lets up on the tickling, his lighthearted grin taking on a slightly seductive hue as he momentarily glimpses upwards towards where his belt is hanging. “Though you’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?” 

“Fuck off.” Y/N smothers her palm against his face, breaking eye contact as she feels her ears bristle with heat.  

“Mm, exactly.” Harry gnashes at her hand playfully, but she manages to yank it away before he gets a bite in. “You can’t even admit you like being called a whore.” 

“Hey!”

“What?” The vampire gives her a cocky look, wagging his head knowingly and then mimicking her voice in a higher pitch. “‘I’m just making a point!’”

“You’re a dick, you really are.” 

“And yet you still ride mine, so who’s the one with the real issues here? Specifically, daddy issues.”

“I’m done with this conversation.” Y/N huffs, returning her attention to the box beside her thigh, muffling the twitching across her lips. 

She takes the cardboard into her hands, tracing over the small flap used to pry the top open. Harry watches her with interest, pondering as to what could possibly be scurrying around her skull that she seems so caught up with the context of the gift. He’d gotten it because he knew they would both benefit from it. It’s as simple as that. 

“You know,” she starts, but her gaze remains glued to the box, “I feel kinda bad ‘cause, like...You got me this gift, I have nothing to give you in return.” 

Harry’s face contorts into a silly frown for a moment, tone humorous. “It’s fine, Y/N. You don’t have to give me anything back. I got it ‘cause I knew we’d enjoy using it together, and because this way, you have something to play with when I’m not around. And you can send me videos of said instances. It’s truly a win-win. A double-ended gift.” 

“I suppose.” She mumbles softly, continuing to pick at the lip of cardboard sticking out. “But I feel like it’s only fair that you get to use it, too, don’t you think?”

And then the reason she’s insistent about this dawns on Harry. The way she’s avoiding looking at him directly, how her heart rate is slowly ebbing upwards, how she is gradually scooting closer to his body, how he can feel her thighs are clasped tightly below the comforter. How the scent of honey and lavender has intensified. How she keeps glancing towards where the sheets are crumpled messily around his hips in a haphazard attempt to remain civil. 

When the monster speaks, it carries all the arrogance brought forward by his discovery. “If you wanna give me a handjob with the toy on, just say so.” 

The human’s head snaps upwards, her expression one of utter alarm at his lewd comment, but he can see right through her act. It’s obvious that was her intention all along— the desire in her eyes is poorly masked. She looks so adorable, pretending not to know what he’s referring to, her palms gripping the box slightly tighter than before. 

Harry twirls a strand of her hair around his finger nonchalantly, giving it a jesting tug. “I just find it funny how much of a horny menace you can be.”

“What—?”

“And it’s not even ten A.M. yet.”

“What do you—?” 

“Y/N,” Harry sighs tiredly, giving her an omniscient look, “I’ve slept with you enough times to know when you want something. It’s written all over your body language and you’re pretty shit at hiding it in your eyes. Just admit you want to and I’ll let you.” 

The faux shock slowly melts off her face, replaced by sheepish humiliation at being so easily sussed out. She chews on her bottom lip pensively, struggling to sew together the appropriate words to communicate the very inappropriate activity she wants to engage in. Harry has to withhold from leaning down and taking a bite from her tempting mouth.  

She inhales a deep breath through her nose, puffing it out slowly and tapping her fingers across the box nervously. Her voice pipes up so softly, it’s almost inaudible. “I want to give you a handjob with the toy.”

Harry gently cards his fingers into the mussed roots along the back of her head, using that hold to guide her sight upwards until it meets his. He leans down, smearing his lips over her own, feeling static pass through the ridges of their skin. “That’s all you had to say, darling. Go ahead, then. Make me cum.” 

Y/N swallows thickly, lashes fluttering bashfully as she pastes her mouth to his in a soft kiss. It’s a simple action with just their lips and nothing else. No tongue, no teeth, no sucking, nothing sloppy or desperate— not yet, anyways. He can tell she does it as a way to ease herself into this. She wants to, that much is arousingly obvious, but for some crazy reason unbeknownst to him, she’s still shy about it. That’s what happens when you come from a conservative raising: you get intimacy issues. He of all people— with his Victorian era background— would know. 

The hand Harry has cupping the nape of her neck shifts over a smidge, ending up splayed across the side of her face. His palm rests on her cheekbone and his fingers in her locks, his wrist cradling the back of her skull as he patiently deepens the kiss. His chest begins to heave slightly, a familiar sensation already frothing at the trench of his stomach. Harry can feel Y/N’s clumsy movements as she unboxes the vibrators, digging through the packaging and trying to slip them on blindly, not wanting to break away from his embrace. The way he’s flirting his tongue along the inside of her top lip is just too consuming to leave. 

After a few seconds of grappling and a string of annoyed curse words, Harry giggles lightly into her mouth, nudging the tip of his nose across the bridge of hers. The jade tint in his irises is waltzing with amusement, all at her expense. “Sometime today, love.” 

“I know, I’m sorry, I just— I can’t— they won’t—” The mortal releases an irritated growl into their kiss, reluctantly splitting away when it becomes clear she won’t be able to get the rubber gloves on without giving the task her full attention. “God, I’m such a...Sorry.” 

Harry rolls his eyes in mirth, pecking sweetly along the angry creases present over her forehead and between her brows. He thumbs over her cheek affectionately to soothe her nerves, his other hand scratching distractedly at the back of his neck. He filters curls through his fingers as he waits, bicep jolting in the process. “It’s fine, I’m just teasing. I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

“Thanks. Just give me—” The girl pauses her actions for a second, jutting her chin back up towards him and locking the vampire into another quick kiss, solely for the purpose of keeping him interested while she figures herself out. She breaks away again, returning to her mission. “Just give me a minute.” 

Now that she can see, Y/N successfully wriggles all five of her fingers into their designated molds. She prods at them gingerly, copying Harry’s actions from the night prior, using that experience as a manual. The mini-vibrators purr to life, a buzzing sensation trickling down her fingers. She glances back up at an awaiting Harry, who gives her such an easy, good-natured smile, she instantly reaches up and glues their mouths together again. 

“You’re so eager.” The boy grins into the kiss, jumping a bit when he feels her tittering fingers duck beneath the covers around his lower torso. “It’s hot.” 

“I just want to make you feel good.” Y/N mumbles, one palm braced to his strong shoulder as the other rides down his bare abdomen. She can feel his grip on her hair tightening the closer she gets to his cock. “That’s all.” 

“Guess I’m just the luckiest— shit.” Harry’s quip is interrupted when Y/N wraps her digits around his length, giving it one slow, testing pump. His jaw drops open and he begins panting into her mouth, the corners of his lips ticking upwards into a smirk as an intense pleasure swells between his thick thighs. “Jesus fucking Christ, that feels— fuck, that’s incredible, oh my God.”

“Yeah?” The human asks timidly, gazing up at him dreamily from below her lashes as his eyes lull back into his head. “Not too much?” 

Harry loves how attentive she is— how she’s checking to make sure he’s alright before continuing. If he had a heart, it would surely be glowing right now. 

Harry gulps down the lump in his throat, voice more strained and needy than she’s ever heard it. “No, I’m good, I’m good. Keep going.” 

Y/N gradually sinks her palm back down to his base, feeling his cock twitch desperately as the vibrators work their magic. She slowly slinks back up to his tip, thumbing over it carefully, pressing the toy on her thumb pad right over his slit. The garbled moan that emits from Harry is a sound her ears will never forget. It’s a sound she wishes she could record and listen to on a loop. 

“Fucking hell, don’t— please, just— oh—” Harry stutters through a plead, voice bleeding, naked chest now heaving wildly against her own. His hips buck forward into her hand, but she maintains a steady grip, keeping the vibrator pressed to the center of his cock’s head. 

“Don’t what?” She whispers into his mouth, suckling at his Cupid’s bow and reveling in the little broken noises he pours onto her tongue. 

Harry’s breaths are shallow and pained, the grip on her hair stronger than she thought possible as the fingers of his opposite hand yank at his own feverishly. He’s barely able to choke out his next sentence. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” Y/N begins to fish for a solid rhythm, her strokes setting into medium pace and gauging the receiver's reaction. “How’s that?” 

Bright colors web across Harry’s eyelids and he feels like his soul is being torn from his body. “Y-Yeah, that’s perfect, baby. It’s so good— you’re so good.” 

“I am?” Y/N swipes her thumb over his tip again, and when he whimpers brokenly against her lips, she does it again. It urges the same exact reaction, but more shattered. So she does it again. And again, and again, and again. And each time it happens, his hips jerk more violently, chasing her intoxicating touch. She can feel Harry’s precum drip down his length and leak between the cracks of her fingers. 

“You are, you’re just so fucking good to me.” Harry’s spewing words at this point, brain half conscious, half floating in bliss. Whatever dam of common sense holds his mind together crumbles, all of his thoughts rushing out in the form of jumbled phrases and cracked whines. “You get me going like nothing else, pet. You get me going so easily, it’s embarrassing. You make me cum so hard, it feels like I’m touching h-heaven. And your mouth— God, y-your mouth. It’s the best I’ve ever had. It’s so soft and warm, and your lips are so pretty and silky. I could kiss you for hours. And your tongue— you know how to use it so well. You lick me once and I’m already on edge. And every time you get down on your knees, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Y/N sighs shakily at Harry’s string of confessions, staring up at him with wide eyes as his own stay shut loosely, long lashes perched on his rosy cheekbones, handsome features slack with euphoria. She doesn’t halt her motions, continuing to pump him excitedly. The girl passes her thumb over his tip every time she gets to the top, and gives a hard squeeze every time she thunks down against his base, twisting her wrist as she glides back and forth between the two points of reference. That combination seems to work well, evident in the steady stream of vulgarities falling from Harry’s swollen lips as he thrusts upwards to match her pace. His groans splash across her tongue, traveling down her throat and burning into her stomach. She wants him to cum probably more than he does.

Y/N glimpses down, watching her sheets tent as she works Harry over, the outline of her knuckles pressing into the turquoise fabric. It’s such an erotic scene and she knows it’ll be branded across the front of her brain for years to come. She cranes her neck back up to look at the vampire, her breath catching in her lungs. He looks so pretty with his dark pink lips parted in pleasure, his damp ringlets matting along his sweaty hairline, his structured jaw ticking, and his usually sharp traits softened by ecstasy. She’ll do anything to make that image last.  

“Tell me more.” Y/N murmurs, swimming in the praise he is so willing to dish out. 

His eyes flicker for a heartbeat and in that instance, they look oddly darker than normal. Almost crimson, but she knows it’s due to the shadow of his lashes. The words that spill from his mouth next make her forget all about that occurrence, his voice melodic and dark, sticky against her wet lips. 

“Your hands are one of my favorite things about you, I think. They’re smaller than mine and I love how your fingers don’t touch when you wrap them around my cock. I love how they leave my back raw with scratches, and I love how they look tied to the bedpost. I love it when they press flat against my chest when you ride me, and how you lean back on them when I’m on my knees with my head between your thighs. I love how they yank at my hair when you’re about to cum, and how they grip my upper arms when we make-out. I love how your nails dig into my thighs when you're going down on me, and how they look fisting at the sheets when I’m taking you from behind. And I love how they feel tugging me off, like you’re doing now. I just love how perfect they are— how perfect you are.” 

Y/N is left speechless, Harry’s monologue ringing in her heated ears as he gazes at her intensely amidst heavy, barely-cracked eyelashes. His broad chest gasps for air and he takes it upon himself— despite his wrecked appearance— to smush their mouths deeper together, pooling moans across the roof of her own.  

“I’m—” His breathing throttles, voice coming out softer than she’s heard it in the last three weeks. “I’m gonna cum.”

Y/N nods her head numbly, strokes becoming lazy and fast, eager for him to finish. “I want you to. I want you to cum for me so bad. Please?” 

Harry’s hips writhe in a tell-tale sign that he’s about to tip. His whimper tastes sweet on her tongue, the meaning behind it pure syrup to her ego. “You’re the only one who makes me feel this good.”

The mortal whines gently in return, eyes falling shut as she feels him grow heavier in her palm. “You’re the only one I want to make feel this good.” 

The knot of white hot pleasure in his belly begins to unravel, his entire spine shuddering as a result, all strain beginning to wash out of his system in spurts if blissful electricity. He can feel his orgasm racing up his prick, pulling his composure along with it. He gives one last jerk against Y/N’s cupped fingers, feeling her press her vibrating thumb over his slit one more time for good measure. When the first milky ribbon spurts out, that’s when he feels it. 

Harry’s eyelids fly open in alarm as black veins protrude along the whites of his eyes, all his muscles contracting at once, defense mode activated. Y/N’s lips are on his neck. 

His first instinct is to do what he always does and guide her away from that sensitive, highly forbidden area. His fist tightens in her hair and he’s about to yank her back up to his mouth when suddenly, the icy tension present in his veins disappears. It’s replaced by a soothing warmth, which travels through every crevice in his body and kindles his climax, his impulsive hatred for being touched in that specific region funneling away completely. He can’t remember a time where this has happened before. 

Harry’s grip loosens hesitantly as he treads into this unexplored territory, allowing her to continue suckling along his throat. The sensation would usually garner a reaction similar to that of a molten metal brand being placed on his skin, but now— for some startling reason— he doesn’t feel any contempt. He just feels relaxed and cradled in the best way imaginable. The impact is pleasant this time around, and he finds himself wanting more of it. So, he lets her give him more. He lets this strange girl kiss and gasp and lick against his jugular while she finishes getting him off, his own desperate sounds of need bouncing around the brick walls of her bedroom. He lets her coax wave after wave of cum out of him, feeling it splatter against her bedspread and coat over her hand. He whines and grunts into the hair along the crown of her head, tears blearing his eyes as her scent of sugar and flowers clouds his mind. And when his release finally sputters to an end, he lets out an elongated groan so deep, it makes his chest ache.

“Fuck. You’re...You’re an absolute angel.”

Y/N draws her hand out from beneath the bed sheets, turning off the vibrating finger pads by pressing them against her palm. She looks down at the milky substance covering the toys and before Harry can make even a sound of encouragement, she’s already licking it off each individual piece. The girl looks up at the vampire as she cleans every trace of him off her fingers, swallowing it all down with a doe-like tint across her hazy gaze and murmuring a soft, “You taste good.” over a full mouth. Harry just watches silently, heavy breathing slowly starting to even out. God, she really is such a fucking godsend.

The next couple of minutes list by in a blur, all of his focus taken up by the feeling of unsettlement pricking at the back of his brain. Why had he let her touch him there? Why had he let her touch him in a place no one has since before his death?

Y/N puts the toys back in their box, putting them off to the side to thoroughly clean later. She reaches down, bunching up her bedspread in her hand and wiping Harry’s pelvis, thighs, and tummy down until he’s decently clean, as well as whatever is left on her hand. She then snuggles up to his side once again, laying her head into the crook between his arm and pectoral muscles, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully along with him. The irritating red tint across Harry’s chest, stomach, and neck gradually fades away, and he barely flinches when he feels her sponge her lips against his Adam’s Apple. She lulls the tip of her middle finger up along the vein of his cock one more time for finality, smiling slyly when he hisses in sensitivity.

The immortal tilts his head down to appraise her, sniffling lightly and allowing a weak, watery smile across his raw lips. His tone is feathery and detached. “That was…Christ.”

Y/N giggles softly, nodding along to his unspoken opinion. “It was fun. Really fun. We should do it again sometime.” 

Harry splutters into a drunken laugh, mind still floating around the room. “I don’t think I could survive that again.”

Y/N grins up at him cheekily. “Pussy.” 

Her friend breaks into an expression of utter offense, cheeks still slightly rosy. He shoves her head roughly as vengeance. “Hey! Piss off. Don’t blame it on me, blame it on the male anatomy.” 

The girl shakes her head up at him, eyebrows shrugging mockingly. “Excuses, excuses.” 

“Whatever.” 

A moment passes, and then Y/N speaks up again, her index finger poking playfully into the center of his bare chest, right over the butterfly tattoo. “Also, you’re washing my sheets. Your mess, you clean it up.”

Harry grins against her forehead, scratching lightly at the back of her scalp. “Fair enough…Wait, is that why you wanted to do this? ‘Cause you knew I’d soil your sheets and you could force me to do your laundry?”

That hadn’t been her motive at all, and Harry knows that, but she plays along anyways for the hell of the joke. “Perhaps.” 

“Wow. I feel used.” 

“Too bad. Go do it. Now. Before it stains.”

Harry stares at her like she’s sprouted a second head. “I literally can’t walk right now! I can’t feel anything below my waist.”

Y/N lifts the comforter off her body, symbolically showing off the bruises his fingertips and rings had left the night before. “Well, neither can I!” 

Harry reaches down and touches the marks, chuckling to himself. “How unfortunate. Who’s gonna make breakfast, then, if neither of us can even stand?”

“We could UberEats some iHop.” 

“Who’s gonna get the door?”

“Well, I can’t solve everything on my own, now can I?!” Y/N slaps his hand away from her body. “Contribute! You’re the lead detective, after all.” 

“I am, aren’t I?” Harry cocks his head to the side in recollection, remembering his role in their imaginary dynamic duo scenario. “And because I’m the lead, I say…” He ropes his lean arms around the human and buries his face into her warm neck, pulling her close and intertwining their legs together, trapping her to the mattress along with him. “I say we just bum around for a bit longer. Just until one of us can actually muster up the strength to leave the bed.” 

Y/N makes an exasperated noise in the back of her throat, but makes no apparent attempt to leave his embrace. “Fine.” 

“Mystery solved, then! Elementary, my dear Watson.”

“You’re so dumb.” 

The pair stay cuddled for a bit, with Y/N’s hands loosely gripping Harry’s forearms, tracing across his mermaid tattoo absently. She wanders in her thoughts for a period of time, lost in the sensation of Harry’s warm breath fanning down her neck, his hot lips pressing small kisses behind her ear every once in a while. She likes their morning after routine; it’s innocent and fun and sharing moments like this makes it easy to forget her troubles. She wants more of this, and she finds herself trying to come up with ways to convince Harry to spend the night more often. This is only the fourth time he’s stayed until morning and she wants that number to grow. 

An idea dawns on her and she’s voicing it before her inhibitions can kill it off.

“Do you...Do you maybe wanna stay over the rest of the weekend?”

Harry draws his face from the alcove of her soft neck, eyebrows poised in curiosity. “The rest of the weekend?”

“Yeah!” Y/N shifts her gaze up to look at him, hope swirling around her pupils. “Like, spend the rest of today and tomorrow over, and then leave tomorrow night ‘cause I have work on Monday. Does that, like...Does that make sense?” 

“Yeah.” Harry says slowly, mulling over her offer, thinking back to his schedule. He doesn’t think he has any commitments this weekend that would require him being home— none he can’t cancel easily, anyways. He’d told Mitch he’d go see him play again at the pub later today, but it’s the same set as last time, so he doesn’t think his best friend would mind if he missed it just this once. Niall was planning a barbecue at his place on Sunday, but the Irish bloke does one almost every other week so it’s nothing Harry can’t make up. Plus, what type of idiot would pass up two day’s worth of amazing sex? The more, the merrier.

Y/N watches the vampire’s expression carefully, trying to interpret whether her request was out of their boundaries. She doesn’t want to make him feel like she’s trying to tie him down or suffocate him, she just wants to spend a bit more time in his presence, rather than through a phone screen. Her tone comes out dismissive, with just the tiniest hint of panic. “It’s okay if you can’t, though. Like, if you have other plans and stuff, I totally get it. Or if you just don’t want to, that’s fine, too! I just thought it’d be a fun little thing we can do since we already talk so much on the phone and everything, so I guess I just kinda figured you wouldn’t mind—”

“I get it, Y/N.” Harry interrupts Y/N’s unhinged word vomit, voice amused and nonchalant. “I think I’d like that, yeah.”

Y/N blinks in giddy surprise. “Really?” 

“Well, don’t sound so shocked.” Harry laughs lightly, fingers toying with the pearls laying across his clavicle. “The sex is pretty fucking good and I’m more than happy to have it at my disposal.” 

“Right.” Y/N gives him a deadpan look, shaking her head at his bluntness, reaching forward to fiddle with the chain of his cross necklace for the sake of having something to distract her from smiling like a fool. “Great, then. I have some old boxers that I know will probably fit you and an unopened pack of toothbrushes under the sink, so I think you’re set.” 

Harry’s lips purse at the mention of the men’s underwear, brows creasing a tad. “You just casually have men’s boxers laying around?” 

“They were my ex’s and I kept them out of spite. But don’t tell anyone, I don’t wanna get locked up for robbery.” 

The tightness in his chest— which he hadn’t even realized had formed— melts away. “My lips are sealed.”

“Good, or else I’d have to kill you.” The girl states darkly, a theatrical seriousness to her appearance. 

“Oh no.” Harry wails sarcastically, knotting a fist into her oversized tee and pulling her closer, connecting their lips and grinning into the kiss. “I’m shaking in fear.” 

Y/N gives in without much of a fight, hands still clinging to his forearms, a smile of her own creeping across her cheeks. “Asshole.”

“The only thing I’m relatively afraid of is my dick falling off. You have the sexual drive of a rabbit.” 

“Oh, like you’re any better?” 

“I’m innocent in all this! You’re usually the one instigating. I’m just a mere pawn— a poor, unsuspecting nun led astray.”

“God, I can’t believe I let you fuck me.” 

///

The following weekend, Harry officially invites Y/N over to his house. 

It had been talked about in passing a while back, and he figures it's only fair considering all the time they’ve ever spent together has been solely at her place. Plus, he could tell she was curious to see what his living situation is like, which is valid. You can tell a lot about people through their home, and when you’re sleeping with someone on the regular, you want to learn as much about them as possible. It’s important to know who you’re getting into bed with. Literally. 

Harry’s proud of his condo. He keeps it clean, he keeps it organized, and he keeps it styled in a manner that combines his Victorian gothic roots with modern day aesthetics. The floorboards of the apartment are made of waxed light-wash wood, most of the expanse of his living room covered in a furry dark grey rug. The lightness of the ground is contrasted by the matte mahogany walls, of which the largest is covered in Harry’s collection of first edition artwork. He had picked out every single piece himself throughout the span of the last two centuries, ranging from modern digital technique canvases to nineteenth century oil paintings, all arranged in neat alternating rows from oldest to newest. He can’t help that he’s such a stickler; his mom had raised him so. 

Though his art wall is his pride and joy, the glass wall that overlooks the city skyline comes in at a close second. Harry loves the city, despite the fact that he was born in a seemingly irrelevant town whose only redeeming quality was the bustling public market. Urban regions are just full of so much life, excitement, and potential, which are all concepts he never really got to explore before he transitioned. Cities represent everything he wanted as a young man, when he thought he had prosperous years ahead of him and an entire life left to build; they represent diversity, unique experiences, and endless possibilities. When that was stripped from him, he began to bounce around different countries and cities all over the world, seeking a place that would fill the hole his dreams had left behind. Los Angeles fit that space like a puzzle piece. 

That glorified window just means more to him than anyone could possibly know. Sometimes at night, he’ll just stand by it with his arms relaxed across his chest, watching the city gleam and glitter as individuals from all different backgrounds go about their business, blissfully ignorant to the beautiful concept that they all contribute to something much bigger— a concept that only centuries of wisdom could reveal. When he’s not wracked with jealousy and spite, looking out that window and witnessing the world change and evolve is therapeutic, in a way. It allows Harry to live vicariously through others who get to have what he never did. 

Aside from his art collection and the glass wall, the chandeliers that hang from his cavernous ceiling are third on his list of treasured possessions. They’re special and no one on this earth owns anything like them; Harry made sure of that. They were created by a Swedish interior designer Harry commissioned about ten years ago, so they are custom-made in every aspect of the term. They took months to construct and finalize, which is hardly difficult to believe, given their grandeur. Each chandelier is made of two extensive layers of delicate golden chains, all arranged around a wire center, connected by light bulbs at each peak. It gives his home a chic, avant-garde atmosphere that mirrors his personality down to the last chain link. 

The rest of his flat is tailored to compliment these three major determining factors. The wood paneling all around his apartment is carved with intricate, loopy designs, his two rounded coffee tables are made of the same marble that resides across his kitchen counters, and his kitchen sits directly under the second story ledge with elongated fluorescent poles embedded into the room’s ceiling, eloquently highlighting the creme walls and polished detailings of all his appliances. His sectional couches are made of an off-brown leather, covered in large rectangular couch cushions with a checkered print embroidered across the pillow cases, and weighted fleece blankets litter some areas of the elegant sofas. A wide staircase leads up to the second floor, made of grey glass steps and metal railings. 

The top story of his condo is less Victorian era, more modern composition. The ground is dark maroon carpeting, and the ledge leads to one singular corridor that splits into two seperate rooms at either ends. One is the master bedroom, and the other is an accompanying bedroom which he uses for storage. His room isn’t anything extravagant, per se. It’s big, but his decor is minimalistic, covered in all different muted shades of blacks and greys, from the comforter on his king-sized bed to the tall dresser. A fifty inch flat-screen is mounted on the wall, but he hardly uses it since the one in his living room is larger; it’s only really there as an ornament. Starburst lights hang from his ceiling— smaller, downplayed versions of his chandeliers— and his walk-in closet stands parallel to the entrance of his bathroom. 

The humongous bathroom was meant for two people, pretty obvious in the double-sink set up, but he doesn’t dwell on it much. He isn’t one for dating, and he’s just happy to have that luxury because it comes in handy the morning after one night stands. He has a jacuzzi-like bathtub, lined with water jets and all, and a big walk-in shower with a large overhead panel instead of a regular showerhead. The whole room is made of dark marble and porcelain, and he couldn’t possibly adore it more. Some of his best experiences had happened in this room, explicit and otherwise. 

In the end, Harry has every right to be arrogantly proud of his apartment. It had taken him months to decorate, years to fill with fond memories, and an immortal lifetime to find. He loves it with every trace of his soul, even when others disagree. Namely, Niall, who had mocked his sophisticated relics and old-timey architecture from the first time he’d set foot past the threshold; “You went the dark gothic route? Really? Way to feed into the stereotype, Dracula.” 

But no matter what anyone says, this is who he is, and he couldn’t be happier. After decades of migrating and aimlessly searching the globe, he’d finally found a place he could call home, and absolutely no one could take that from him. Especially not some Irish moron who doesn’t even know the definition of “foyer.”

How Harry manages to afford his flat is a whole other intriguing tale.

It had come up in a pillow talk conversation with Y/N once, and he had told her the story he feeds to any human who asks. He’s a regional manager for an offshore company and it’s mainly a lot of online work. Handling duties through business emails, videochat meetings, job portals, and things of the such. It paints a valid image as to why he’s home all the time. He also claims to be the company’s lone contact stationed in California, so he handles all of the responsibilities that would normally be bestowed upon three or four people. This paints a valid explanation as to how his imaginary position would tether such a high pay grade, which justifies his luxurious living arrangement.

That story is part of the truth. Harry does indeed have ties with corporate businesses. That is, ties to their CEOs’ pockets. It’s surprisingly easy to get past secretaries and security dressed in a nice suit and thousand dollar leather shoes, especially with the help of compulsion and Harry’s golden charisma. Thanks to those tools, he has managed to convince some of the biggest leaders in corporate California to quietly deposit generous sums of money into his bank account once a month. And with his persuasive supernatural abilities, he convinces them to write it off as regularly scheduled charity donations in their minds. That’s how he makes a living for himself— by scamming the rich. Xander likes to take the piss and call him a sugar baby, but Harry sees himself as more of a modern day Robin Hood, instead. 

Mitch says his charade is unlawful, but considering how corrupt the business world already is, the vampire feels next to no guilt. The one percent have always taken advantage of those poorer than them— that was obvious even back in Harry’s time— and he doesn’t see anything wrong with taking advantage of them right back, now that he has the means to. How’s that saying go? “Fuck the bourgeoisie” and all that. 

Everything taken into consideration, Harry’s pretty excited to show Y/N his condo. Watching people’s faces break into awe the second he turns the lights on always gives him such a deep surge of satisfaction. It makes all the hassle worth it.  

The immortal is currently sitting in his vintage car, flicking through his Spotify playlist to find something to entertain him while he waits for Y/N to finish her shift. He had offered to pick her up, knowing that it’s what any courteous host would do, and she had appreciatively accepted, telling him she’d be out by eight P.M. It’s seven fifty-three now and Harry had arrived around seven fifty, taking the slot right in front of the cafe’s entrance so she can spot him as soon as she walks out. These ten minutes are the longest he’s ever had to endure, which says a lot considering he’s endured tons of patience-testing moments in his two hundred years.

Harry swipes his thumb down the glass screen of his phone, sampling songs left and right to see what will stick. After listening to the first few chords of an array of forties dance music, seventies rock and roll, and twenty-first century bubblegum pop, he settles for Rodeo by Lil Nas X. Harry has a very intricate taste in music— it’s one of the traits he’s most proud of— and Mitch often tells him he’s too snotty when it comes to his preferences. He’ll admit it freely that, yes, he can be a piece of work musically, but just because he thinks the industry peaked in the seventies doesn’t mean he hates modern music. He likes most of it, including rap, and Lil Nas X happens to be one of his favorites, much to everyone’s surprise. Most of the artist’s songs are eccentric not only lyrically but also instrumentally, to the point where it’s almost comical— who names a song Panini, of all things?— but the music is catchy and Harry can let loose to it easily. 

The vampire also happened to meet the musician, on one occasion. He ran into him at a club and after a few drinks and some banter, somehow ended up getting invited over to a party at the celebrity’s Malibu mansion. That night is a blur, definitely due to the copious amounts of alcohol and psychedelics, but Harry remembers they had fun and that the guy was worth a listen. In fact, he was the genius that came up with the theme for the rapper’s Rodeo music video. 

A light knocking on the passenger’s seat window brings him out of his memories. Y/N stands outside, hugging her arms loosely over her tummy, decked in her usual work uniform of a navy polo and black skinny jeans. When the two lock eye contact, she gives him a soft wave and a tired smile. Harry lifts two fingers in greeting, returning her polite gesture and swiftly lowering the window. He leans forward across the center console, his grin taking on a playful hue, voice carrying the same effect. 

“Uber for Y/N?” 

The girl snorts and rolls her eyes, but plays along, reaching forward and jiggling the handle of his black Cadillac symbolically. “That’s me, yes. Open up.” 

“Eh, eh, eh.” Harry tuts, wagging a finger in her direction and then making a motion that tells her to back away. “I’m gonna have to see some ID. It’s one of our new safe driver policies. Gotta make sure you are who you say you are, miss.” 

Y/N’s expression drops flatly, eyes half-lidded as he smiles up at her brightly, batting his eyelashes innocently. “Open the door before you end up sucking your own dick tonight.” 

Harry’s shit-eating face falls so fast, it causes her to burst into laughter. A soft click vibrates through the handle below her fingers. “I’ll waive the background check. Just this once.”  

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Y/N taunts, yanking the door open and ducking into the shotgun seat, gently tugging it closed behind her. 

Once the human is situated in her spot, she releases a lengthy sigh, sinking down against the cushions as she grabs her seat belt and clicks it into place. 

Harry puts his cell phone down into the cubby hole below the stereo set, setting the car in reverse and slinging an arm behind her headrest to get a better view as he backs out of the parking space. His gaze momentarily flickers to her slumped form as the car retreats slowly, tone curious. “Long day?”

Y/N glimpses over, giving him a quick once-over and taking in his olive green Nike jumper, ripped denim boyfriend jeans, and pastel yellow Vans. He looks so boyishly cute, which is ironic given the premise of tonight’s rendezvous. The shoes (which he had worn the night they’d met all those weeks ago) and the position he’s in (perched above her with his sharp jaw and neck flexing as he cranes his torso to look for oncoming traffic) flashes her back to the first time she had been in his car. They had been way less acquainted, she had been much less relaxed, much more nervous, but the encounter very much carried the same exact intentions. That recollection makes her lips quirk a bit. The pair had grown so comfortable with each other since then, that Friday evening feels like it happened decades ago. 

“Yeah.” Y/N murmurs softly, gladly indulging a deep inhale of the vanilla and tobacco scent she had become familiar with, allowing it to soothe her nerves and wash away the stress of a hard day. “I’m just happy it’s over and that the weekend’s finally started. Wanna forget all about it.” 

“Well, that’s what I’m here for, love!” Harry plops back into his seat, shifting his car into drive and gifting her his famous brilliant smile, dimples winking to life as he taps his ringed fingers across his steering wheel humorously. “I’ve made you forget your name plenty of times before; I’m pretty sure I can erase one shitty work shift just fine.”

Y/N scoffs at his pompous claim, reaching up and prying the hair tie out of her locks, looping it over her wrist and shushing her stiff roots. She tucks strands behind her ears, the corners of her mouth twitching in endearment at the giddiness of his aura. “Just drive, Sherlock.” 

The mortal isn’t surprised to find that building in which the vampire lives is one of the tallest in the city, and that it’s basically smack in the center, as well. One look at Harry and anybody could immediately tell he thrives off being the center of attention, so of course his home is a direct reflection of that. Refined boy, refined personality, refined environment. It’s practically a law of science. 

Once Harry’s car is parked and the ignition rumbles to a smooth stop, Y/N unbuckles her seat belt and goes to unlock the passenger’s side door. Right as her hand is wrapping around the handle bar, the door swings open of its own accord and she just barely manages to stifle a blood-curdling scream full of shocked fear. When her eyes focus, Harry is standing there holding the door open for her, features painted with cocky amusement. 

“How did you—?” The girl whips around to look at the empty driver’s seat, eyebrows cinching in bewilderment as she turns back to face him. “How did you get around so fast?” 

Harry shrugs his shoulders offhandedly, reaching one bejeweled hand down to aid her out of the vehicle. “I did track when I was younger. Made me a fast walker.” 

Y/N hesitantly takes it, body language still slightly tense from the jump scare. With his help, she gradually climbs out, the door shutting behind her as she sweeps her sight around the parking garage in wonder. This is the first time Harry has ever invited her anywhere, let alone to where he spends most of his life. She doesn’t want to miss a thing. Even the simplest aspect can tell you a lot about a person. 

Y/N jerks a tad when she feels her friend’s cold fingers slipping down her palm, sifting between her own. She glances down at their intertwined hands for a second, a warm glow bursting through her chest. She’s always admired how his are so much bigger. 

Harry tugs her forward toward the elevator at the other end of the parking lot, bottom lip caught between his teeth in a sly smirk. “C’mon, Watson. Let me show you around.” 

Y/N stumbles after him, allowing the boy to guide her to where she needs to go as he weeds through cars effortlessly. She suddenly chimes up from behind, asking a random question to fill the leftover silence their footsteps spare. “That car next to yours had such a weird license plate. What the fuck does ‘craic’ mean?” 

Harry chuckles knowingly, perfectly aware of whose car she is referring to. “It’s this odd thing Irish people say. Utter rubbish, honestly.” 

A comfortable quietness fills the air of the elegant elevator as it shoots up towards the twenty-fourth floor of the skyscraper, the only other sound being the gentle lullaby of a nameless tune wafting through the speakers above their heads. Harry finds himself studying Y/N as she looks out at the city through the glass walls, the lights of the exterior buildings casting a beautiful buttery gleam across her relaxed characteristics, along with a radiant glint over the surface of her glossy eyes. Despite the slightly smeared mascara staining her waterline and the inherent frizziness her hair carries after being pulled into a tight ponytail all day, Harry finds that she looks nice. Pretty, even. 

The girl senses him staring, craning her head to return his gaze, the edges of her lips lilting upwards lightheartedly. He returns the gesture, peeling away to focus on something— anything— else. He deems the control panel a worthy replacement.

As the numbers on the dial drag by, Harry finds himself absentmindedly thumbing over Y/N’s knuckles. She doesn’t seem to notice or mind, so he continues doing it, massaging the crest of each bump and pressing down gently along the troughs. He enjoys the sensation of her silky warm skin heating his icy own, and he ponders whether she likes how cold his touch is, or if she hates it as much as he does. He expels that notion from his mind; he refuses to let such a stupid concept upset him. He just keeps caressing her hand, restraining his mind from ambling too far into its meaning. It’s just to pass the time. 

He keeps the movements going until their ride skates to a joltless halt with a sharp ding! and then he steps out, having to give his full attention to leading her down the long corridor to his flat. Y/N is so caught up in drinking up her surroundings, she almost bumps into the creature when he comes to an abrupt stop in front of the entrance of what she can only deduce is his home. Harry drops her hand, much to her disappointment, fishing into his back pocket for his keys. He patiently filters through his keychain, picking out the right one and working it into the lock, a soft click emitting from the mechanism. 

Harry pushes the door open with his palm, standing off to the side just outside the threshold and tilting his head towards it, posture bowing slightly. “Ladies first.” 

Y/N thanks him quietly, taking a cautious step forward into his hallway. She can’t help the way her heart skips a beat at his gentlemanly tendencies; she rarely meets anyone as respectful as Harry seems to be and she finds his old-timey attributes to be refreshing. Helping her out the car, taking her hand to guide her through the parking lot, rubbing at her knuckles innocently, holding the door open for her— it’s all such an archaic form of chivalry she wishes she’d see more often these days. She doesn’t know if it’s a British thing, if he had just been raised like that, or if he simply does it to get laid, but she’s thankful for it either way. 

With one last glance at her friend over her shoulder, she begins wandering down the dark narrow path unsurely. The sound of the door slinking shut behind her and Harry’s footsteps ease her. 

She stops once she senses the corridor open up into a larger space, which she guesses is his living room. A soft gasp escapes her at the sight before her. The whole area is washed in darkness, the only source of light stemming from the large glass pane that stretches from the floor of the apartment to its tall ceiling. Dozens of buildings and cars glimmer below, the breath-taking image of the lively city looking almost like a snapshot from a professional movie. It’s absolutely gorgeous and she feels like she could stare at it for eons. 

A chilly hand suddenly presses along the dip of her spine, ushering her forward an inch or two, Harry’s invisible voice and warm breath hitting the shell of her left ear. “S’cuse me, dove.”   

The boy reaches behind her for the light switch and the condo bursts into radiance with one simple flick of his wrist. 

“Oh...my God.”

Harry’s home is something straight out of a luxury catalogue. The light floorboards and the mahogany panels. The massive leather couches and hand-sewn cushions. The extravagant chandeliers and glass staircase. The marble kitchen and generously packed liquor shelves. The ginormous wall of priceless artwork, littered with pieces from all different eras of history. It feels like stepping into a decor wonderland.

“Not too bad, huh?” Harry pipes up playfully, anchoring her back into reality from the floaty stupor that had consumed her mind. 

“Not too—? Are you kidding?” Y/N sputters incredulously, whizzing her head to the side sharply. “You were keeping an entire Four Seasons royal suite from me?!”

Harry belts out a bundle of childish giggles, the edges of his eyes crinkling and the tip of his button nose twitching. “I never thought of it much, to be honest. I’d grown to like your place.” 

“Right. Because a creaky mattress and a kitchen the size of a broom closet is so much more satisfying than chandeliers and a fucking glass wall.”

The vampire glimpses around his flat indicatively. “Okay, I see your point.”

“Exactly.” 

Y/N drifts forward, running the tips of her fingers across the backrest of the aged leather sofa and along the corners of the throw pillow, doing a slow circle at the middle of his home, taking everything in a second time around to make sure it isn’t a mirage. “Fuck, this is incredible. Is your boss looking for any more regional managers, by any chance?”

Harry follows after her, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his boyfriend jeans, chewing along the inside of his cheek to suppress a proud smile— a result of her explosive reaction. “I’m afraid my position is the one and only, sorry.”

Y/N droops her shoulders in exaggerated contempt, presenting a shitty English accent to tease him. “Bollocks.”

It garners the designated feedback, her tummy somersaulting at Harry’s exorbitant laughter. 

The boy comes to stand before her, cocking his head to the side questioningly towards his kitchen. “Can I offer you a drink?”

Y/N glimpses over at his bar area, eyes dancing over his extensive array of fancy bottles. “Oh, please do.”

Despite only having known Y/N for a few weeks, Harry has gotten quite acquainted with her tastes, even outside of sexual matters. She doesn't like the taste of alcohol, but she likes its effects. And he likes them, too, if he’s being honest. Her blood always begins to smell more appetizing after just a few sips and the way her cheeks heat up so easily when she’s buzzed always makes his breathing trip. 

He works his extensive skills, pulling from his liquor cabinet and mixing flavored liquids and syrups until he comes up with something that he thinks the girl will enjoy. It’s fruity, with hints of peach, lime, and strawberry, but also warm and fulfilling, with a rich whiskey and a few dashes of bitters. He plunks in a couple of ice cubes and mixes it together with a bar spoon, tapping it against the rim with finality and swiping it over his tongue in a quick taste test. He’s pretty happy with his concoction. 

Harry glances up to where Y/N is leaning against the armrest of his couch, her legs crossed before her as she stares at one of the abstract paintings mounted on his wall. It’s an original, as are the rest of them, which he had purchased some odd seventy years ago from a barely known artist whose talent had gone to waste in the world. It’s a deconstructed sunflower, with the color palette inverted and the strokes of the brush uneven and jagged. Odd and complicated, but beautiful, nonetheless. Its complexity is what makes it significant. 

The vampire slowly wanders over from his kitchen, holding her drink in one hand and a cloth napkin in the other. He takes the spot beside her along the armrest, speaking wistfully as if recalling a fond memory. “It’s a flower.”

Y/N nods slowly in recognition, peeling her gaze away with the corners of her lips jilting. “Mmhm, a sunflower.”

Harry’s brows jump in shock. Barely anyone ever guesses the identity correctly. He’s found that as time passes and humanity becomes more reliant on technology rather than cognizant knowledge, society in general has reduced to a more pea-brained state than ever. As a result, the amount of people who can interpret and understand the meaning behind complex artwork has greatly diminished, unfortunately, so he’s pleasantly surprised to find that one of the few who still possesses that talent happens to be the girl he’s shagging. “Wow, that’s a first. It’s so unusual, no one ever really gets it.”

“I guess I just have an affinity for the unusual.” His guest quips, giving him a jesting shrug of her eyebrows and a suggestive grin. 

You have no idea.

“You underestimated me, Holmes.” 

“That I did. My sincerest apologies.” Harry returns her joking simper, proceeding to then dip an index finger inside the stout glass in his grasp, bringing it up before her face. “Taste.”

Without breaking eye contact, Y/N parts her lips and allows him to coax the wet digit in, the tangy flavor of the mixture making her taste buds tingle. She encloses her mouth around his finger, lulling her tongue along it slowly with a mischievous glint shining across her irises. 

Harry’s prominent jaw clenches as he watches the scene unfold, breath bated and a moan threatening to betray him. She truly wastes no time.

He gradually pulls his finger from her tongue, struggling to clear his throat, missing its texture already. “How is it? More syrup? More biters?”

Y/N gazes up at him drunkenly, though it’s definitely not from the liquor. Her lips quirk cheekily as a result of how visibly frazzled she’d gotten him. “It’s perfect. Better than anything I’ve had at a club, that’s for sure.” 

“Yeah?” Harry taps his opal ring against the bottom of the lowball glass, trying to reign in his previous composure. “Think I could be a bartender?” 

“You don’t hit me as the type of person who has the patience for it.” The girl remarks wittily, slinking her head to the side and biting back a giggle when Harry makes a face at her.

“You make a valid point, I suppose.” The vampire responds with an airy sigh, nodding in surrender. “The stupid blabbing from drunk morons and impending fear of being vomited on would be too much for me. I wouldn’t last a day.” 

“You wouldn’t last a single night, let alone a whole day.”

“Alright, pipe down!” Harry deadpans, bumping her shoulder with his vengefully. “You’re bruising my ego.”

“It’s humongous,” Y/N snorts, shoving him in return, “it can take a few hits.”

The pair sit there in silence for a suspended moment, just taking in the expanse of the art before them. Harry then turns his torso towards her once more, bringing the drink in his grip up to her mouth. “Here, have a proper sip. Put my all into it.” 

Y/N obliges, looking up at him with her signature doe-like air of trusting innocence, allowing him to tip the hem of the cup against her mouth. The cool beverage filters through her taste buds and down her throat, the sweet and sour mixture leaving an enjoyable tingle in its wake. A few streams of the liquid bead out of the corners of her lips and Harry impulsively gathers them with the side of his index finger, the napkin in his other hand completely forgotten. 

As he goes to pull back in order to clean up, Y/N leans forward and traps his digit between her lips like before. This time, there’s a more insistent sultry hint sparkling around her pupils. 

“Christ...” Harry pants, watching Y/N work her way down his forefinger with a silent groan hinging on his teeth. 

He doesn’t deny himself from indulging the dirty action this time around. Her mouth is as soft and warm as ever, sending chills racing down his spine despite the sweater hugging his body. His mind slips for a second, reminiscing in all the other ways he’s felt the inside of her mouth before, a faint red tinge splattering across his cheekbones. 

Y/N draws his finger out, kissing messily across its length and over the pad, looking up at him through tension-heavied lashes. She doesn't speak a word, but her intentions are clear in the electricity between them.

He can’t hold back any longer, his next comment coming out as a pained growl. “God, you’re such a filthy little thing.”  

She hums softly in the back of her throat at his explicit compliment, suckling at the center of her bottom lip needily. “I like being your filthy little thing.”

Harry swallows thickly in order to keep himself somewhat tame, fangs suddenly pricking his tongue in warning.

The mortal scoots closer to him, sifting her fingers between his around the drink and bringing it upwards, downing the last couple of inches in one go. She draws the cup from his grasp, reaching over to set it down carefully on the coffee table before turning back and snuggling deeper into his heaving chest. 

Harry scoffs in amusement, but he can feel a certain charring scratching at the back of his throat. “Drinks like that are meant to be savored, darling. You’re not supposed to just pound them.” 

Y/N stretches her neck upwards, taking his earlobe between her teeth, lips wet and cold from the alcohol. His lashes flutter when her warm breath hits his skin, contradicting the sensations from before. 

“Why don’t you let me worry about how I drink, and you can worry about a different kind of pounding.”

And that’s all it takes, really. That’s all it takes for Harry to completely drop any self-control he has left. 

The creature jars his face towards her, large hand shooting upwards to grip her jaw firmly, holding her in place as he crashes their mouths together. It’s all tongue and clacking teeth, desperate whines and stuttered gasps. Y/N’s hands fumble for something to tether to while Harry takes it upon himself to grasp at her opposite hip with his free hand, yanking her onto his lap. She buries her fists in the cotton fabric of his jumper, balancing her knees on either sides of his parted thighs. The boy’s fingers coast from her jaw down to her throat, tightening ever so slightly. The action is minimal, but it reveals that flare of dominance Y/N has become addicted to. 

“Do you want it here?” Harry rasps against her eager tongue, smirking into the kiss when he feels her start to rock along the bulge that is beginning to tent his denim pants. “Do you want me to bend you over the couch and fuck you, baby? With the chandelier making your skin glow? Where we can put on a show for the whole city to see?”

It’s a tempting offer and his words obviously have some form of impact, seen in the way Y/N’s grinding takes on a hungrier, deeper pace against his clothed cock. 

“I want…” Y/N finds it difficult to voice her desires, the responsible party being the manner in which Harry glues cracked mewls onto the roof of her mouth. “I want it in your bed.” 

She doesn’t know why, but she just wants him to take her some place where the moment they share is intimate, unseen by the prying eyes of others. She wants to christen his bed exactly how he had done hers; she craves that strange connection, for some reason. Y/N isn’t naive, she knows she’s not the only person Harry has had in his home and in his sheets. But she wants that experience, nonetheless, even if it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. She knows she’s not his only, but at least she’s one. 

Harry slowly breaks their kiss, brushing the tip of his nose across her own in a small comforting gesture. He blinks at her groggily, the copper specks in his eyes glitzing under the golden hue of the lighting. When he speaks, its soft and low, almost as if he doesn’t want to risk another soul overhearing. “Okay. Whatever you want, it’s yours.” 

Y/N almost doesn’t get anything she wants, given that she nearly kills herself on the trek up the stairs, courtesy of her weakened knees and wobbly ankles. Harry just barely manages to save her, but he finds the occurrence too hilarious to spare her the embarrassment. 

“Stop laughing, it’s not funny!” She exclaims indignantly as he helps her up the last few glass steps, clinging to him like a scared puppy, her hands still shaking with adrenaline. “I could have died!” 

Her shrieking only makes him laugh harder and he nearly keels over, palm clutching his stomach as if to keep it from popping. “I’m sorry, I really am, but it’s just— your face when you— and how you tripped sideways— I—”

Y/N shoves him hard towards the corridor where his bedroom lies, but it’s hard to maintain an angry demeanor when the young man’s giggles sound like bells and when he looks so cute with his curls flopping across his forehead. “Dickhead.” 

They’re almost at his bedroom door when Harry grabs onto her wrist, tugging her roughly so that she lurches forward into his chest. He plants a wet kiss onto the bridge of her nose, expression entertained. “Stop being such a bad sport. It was pretty funny.”

“Yeah, okay.” She huffs begrudgingly, glancing down impatiently at his plump lips as he walks backwards down the hallway with her in tow. “You can invalidate my rage once you have a near death experience yourself.”

The irony of it all. 

Harry kicks the door open, ghosting his mouth over Y/N’s and watching her sight do a quick sweep around the area. “Welcome to my lair.” 

The human likes his aesthetic. The room has different hues of the same color, so it all ties together nicely, and the hanging lights look like miniature versions of the two large ones downstairs. The bed is huge, which is a relief because for once, they won’t have to actively worry about accidentally rolling off the edge mid-fuck. “It’s nice. Very chic.” 

“Thanks.” Harry reaches up and cups either side of her neck with his palms, dragging his damp lips over her chin and down the center of her jugular, smiling against her skin when he feels her shiver. “It doesn't have a bookshelf wall like yours, but I make due.”

“Yeah.” Y/N wisps out weakly, leaning her head back as he speckles his mouth across that sensitive point on her throat he discovered ages ago. “I bet.”

She feels Harry’s touch travel down her torso, cold fingers suddenly smearing across her love handles beneath her work shirt. His grip tightens at the hem with the intention of pulling the polo off, breath hot as it washes over her collarbones. “Wanna find out just how good I make it work?”

Y/N’s arms instinctively raise on command, her reply shaky and fragile. “Yes, please.” 

Harry makes it work. He makes it work so fucking well. He doesn’t need crazy positions or any vibrating toys to make her feel good; he just knows her so thoroughly by now that he’s able to tend to every single one of her needs like it’s his sole purpose. The sex is missionary, with her splayed out across her back upon his mound of feathered pillows, her thighs clamped over his hips as he slams into her at a harsh, curt pace. Her calves are tied around the backs of his thighs, her nails are carving memories into the broad expanse of his shoulders, they’re both panting curse words and encouragement into each other’s mouths, and he’s cradling her to his chest as if he wants to absorb her heartbeat right through her ribs. If only obtaining one were that easy. 

Y/N allows her head to fall back against the cushions, drawing away from the prolonged kiss only because she needs air to continue. Harry’s lips busy themselves elsewhere, running down the valley of her chest and toying with one of her pebbled nipples. Y/N’s back gives a sharp arch the second he brushes across the sensitive nub and the taunting coo he releases goes straight to her core. 

“Liked that, darling? Like it when I kiss you there?”

The girl’s lashes have fallen shut, her eyes lulling around in their sockets as he maintains a steady rhythm between her thighs, ramming into her with so much force, the headboard is knocking into the wall. It’s loud and intense enough that Harry has to fit one of his palms between the railings, bracing the weight of the bed in order to prevent a hole from forming. 

Y/N’s voice fills the dense atmosphere, so shattered and raw, she can hardly understand herself. “It feels so— so good, H.” 

“I love it when you call me that. Sounds so pretty coming from your lips.” The vampire’s tongue flicks over her nipple a handful of times, dark veins momentarily webbing over the whites of his eyes at the cracked whimper she lets loose. “And of course it feels good. I always make you feel good, don’t I? Always make my girl cum so—fucking—hard.” 

Y/N’s trembling fingers card into the curls along the nape of Harry’s neck as he thrusts to his words, twisting them around her knuckles and swimming in the throaty groan he pours over the clammy skin of her breasts. Her whisper sounds distant and dreamy. “Please...Please don’t stop.”

Harry gazes up at her through heavy lashes, lapping at her chest more fervently, accent thick and deep. “I won’t, baby. Not until I have you dripping all over my sheets.”

After a few more minutes of fractured moans bouncing around the panels of the room and the noise of wet skin slapping together, something catches Y/N’s bleary eyes. She wills past the blissful fog in her mind, focusing on the intriguing object hanging from one of the railings of Harry’s bedpost, swaying back and forth wildly due to his strong tempo. 

“Are those...Are those handcuffs?” 

Harry’s attention jumps to where hers is pinned, his powerful stride coming to a gradual stop. He’s heaving and shuddering above her, ringlets matted to his jaw and across his temples, cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of cherry red. His Adam’s Apple bobs once and he gives a short nod. “Y-Yeah. I’ve had them for a while...”

The hope dripping from his voice is practically palpable and Y/N interprets it easily. She glances down at him as he takes quivering inhales against her chest, his eyes bleeding lust. Her mumble is so quiet and soft, he wonders how it’s possible for her to make some of the preposterously loud sounds he’s used to hearing whenever he’s buried this deep. “Use them on me. Please?”

Harry bends to her request without hesitation. He locks her wrists into the restraints, sponging a kiss onto each before giving them one hard tug to check for security. He then regains his rough slams, but with more fervor than before. 

The monster sits back onto his heels, groping her waist roughly and working her against his thighs, watching welts form on her flesh along the pads of his fingers. Y/N unconsciously begins circling her hips to match his speed and the fractured groan that rips out of him makes her walls tighten. He looks incredible looming in front of her, head toppled back between his shoulder blades, bouncing to his every ram. His throat flexes with the weight, jaw taut and inked pectorals glistening with sweat under the dim lights dangling from his ceiling. “That’s it, pet, just like that. Love the way you ride it. You’re so fucking tight and warm and...and just— Christ, just fuck me.”

She wishes she could frame this moment in time and drag it out forever.  

Harry swings his head forward again, blinking the blurriness from his vision to take in the image before him. Y/N just looks so fucking gorgeous like that, tied down at his beck and call, her chest bouncing pertly as her fingers bunch around the chain link, thighs clinging to his waist as she chews her bottom lip raw in an attempt to control her noises. 

The vampire ducks down, connecting their mouths in a sloppy kiss that cajoles her into spilling all the moans she had been withholding. He feels them trickle down his lungs and diffuse into his bones, flames lapping across his insides as their foreheads bump and noses smudge, ragged breaths intermingling. “Let it out for me, hm? Wanna know how I’m making you feel, don’t care who hears.”

As if that isn’t enough, there’s an instance where Harry’s animalistic senses suddenly enhance and he comes to the realization that the metal cuffs have made a tiny laceration along her skin. 

A thin trail of blood travels down her suspended arm, but she doesn’t seem to notice, too lost in the pleasure Harry is pounding into the pit of her stomach. So he simply leans upwards and licks the sweet droplet clean, feeling heat spark across every fiber of his being. He laps up the entire stream and then presses a tender kiss to her palm for good measure, grunting out a gentle, “There’s a good girl.” when she whines at the affectionate gesture. 

The release Harry is getting from between Y/N’s legs mixes with the ecstasy her blood brings, and it shoves him over the edge in a manner he hasn’t experienced since that first time they slept together all those weeks ago. Since the first time he tasted what lies in her veins, while also simultaneously getting to taste the indescribable relief her body so readily brings him.

After all is said and done that night, something peculiar happens. After they both milk their orgasms for everything it’s worth, and after Y/N gives into exhaustion in his arms with her wrists bruised and a content watery smile on her face, and after he gets a heftier drink from her neck and heals the two little puncture wounds with his own blood...The most bizarre, unexpected event occurs. 

Harry falls asleep soundly for the first time in months, and all he dreams about is how Y/N tasted. 

///

Y/N wakes up the next morning to her body covered in Harry’s Nike jumper, to an empty spot beside her in the messy duvet, to a familiar tune tinging her ears from a distance, and to a satisfying ache between her thighs. 

As soon as she cracks the bedroom door open, the smell of pancakes wafts in through the chilled morning air. Specifically, lemon and blueberry pancakes. Her grandmother’s lemon and blueberry pancakes.

A shiver runs down Y/N’s spine the second she sets a toe along the cold glass panels of Harry’s staircase. She takes a deep breath, pulling the extra length of the sweater’s sleeves over her fists and tugging the hem of the article downwards as if she could convince it to cover more than just half her thighs. She carefully works her way down the steps, flinching at the iciness that travels up her legs with every motion. When she finally thunks down emptily onto the light-wash floorboards, her body has grown accustomed to the temperature. As she pads across the furry rug in Harry’s living room, she finds herself wondering why everything connected to him is always so unusually cold— colder than any normal person could withstand. His touch, his lips, the tip of his nose, his forehead, his chest, even his thighs; everything is always freezing, and she doesn’t understand how he can bear it. It’s such an odd affinity to have. 

The human gradually wanders into the vampire’s kitchen, peeking inside the room from behind one of the archway’s walls. What she sees throws her for a loop. 

Harry is cooking breakfast, as she expected from the sweet scent she’d awoken to, but he’s doing it in a manner she never really expected from him. 

Music stems from a portable speaker he has situated at the center of the marble kitchen island, blaring loud enough to fill the entire giant home with high notes, guitar chords, and acapella riffs. The young man is dancing across his kitchen as he cooks, clad in nothing but a set of black Calvin Klein briefs and a pair of fuzzy magenta socks. Y/N rakes down his body, admiring the crimson and purple love bites she had left on his chest and the raspberry red scratches zig-zagging across his back, the marks flexing with the movements of his muscles. They’re strangely faint, for some reason. Practically barely there. 

She chalks it up to the fact that maybe she hadn’t bruised him as much as she’d thought. 

Y/N forces herself to keep her mind from straying onto anymore explicit topics; it’s probably not even ten A.M. yet. She needs to get herself under control.

Grooving while in the kitchen isn’t necessarily weird (she’s guilty of it herself), but Harry’s dancing techniques very much are. The only accurate depiction of it is that for a boy in his twenties, he dances like an old geezer in his eighties. His moves are choppy and old-schooled, almost like what you’d expect to see in a nineteen fifties disco hall, and watching him ebb and flow across the tiled ground to choreography similar to that of Dirty Dancing and Footloose... It would send anybody into a fit of laughter. Especially since Harry is so tall and lanky, so how he manages to move in such a way is beyond her understanding. 

Aside from that, his choice of music is baffling, as well. Not only because she recognizes the soundtrack, but because she would have never expected someone like him— with his cocky behavior and overly-confident caliber— to be into these types of songs at all. She always pegged him for the seventies rock and roll type. 

“You like Hamilton?” 

Harry’s actions creak to a halt and he whips around towards where the disturbance had stemmed, spatula clutched in one hand and a marble plate stacked with pancakes in the other. His face breaks into a bright smile, voice slathered with dramatic friendliness. “Well, look who finally got up! I was starting to think you were dead, Sleeping Beauty.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at him mockingly, walking over to the kitchen counter and propping herself onto her elbows, chin in hand as she watches him set down the platter of food before her. She tips forward onto her toes, taking a deep inhale of the homey, sugary smell, letting it wash over her in flashes of childhood memories. “Are these like the ones I make?”

“Lemon and blueberry, yeah.” Harry bobs his head casually, turning around to place his metal spatula down into the sink, as well as to retrieve a glass bottle of maple syrup from one of his cupboards. “They’re pretty close, I think. I’ve never seen you use a recipe or measuring cups or anything when you make them, so I kinda eyeballed it to the best of my ability. Hope I did your nan justice.”

He pours a decently-sized glop of syrup over the mountain of treats and Y/N watches excitedly as it trickles down all the layers. He then pushes back from the table, pulling open a drawer and rummaging through, continuing to whistle along to the tune of Satisfied as he bops the cabinet closed with his hip and sets down an extra pair of forks and knives beside the plate. 

Harry cuts a neat triangle out of the pancake at the top, pointing at her with his fork as he shrugs his brows nonchalantly. “And to answer your question from before: yes, I do like Hamilton.”

“Hm. Interesting.” Y/N murmurs, going cross-eyed as Harry offers her the forkful of food in his possession, poking at her mouth playfully and getting maple syrup all over her lips. She opens obediently, allowing him to feed her the piece. “You don’t really seem like the type of guy— oh, wow, these are actually really good!”

Harry bites into his lower lip with his two front teeth, a proud smile dimpling his cheeks as the light draft from the air vent ruffles a couple of his sex-mussed ringlets across his forehead. “Yeah? You mean it?”

The mortal nods her head vigorously as she finishes chewing and swallowing, wiping away some of the leftover syrup from her top lip with her middle finger and sucking it clean. “Yeah! You hit it spot on.”

“Aces. I should be on The Great British Bake Off.” Harry makes a small, celebratory fist bump next to his hip and the childish gesture makes Y/N snort softly. 

“Like I was saying, you don’t really strike me as the type of guy who would be into musicals.” The girl comments, watching her friend cut another triangle out of the first pancake and pop it into his own mouth. 

The vampire chews thoughtfully for a second, lifting one shoulder offhandedly and swallowing fully before talking. “I’m really not, to be honest. But this specific musical is pretty good. The songs are catchy.”

He nudges the other pair of utensils across the counter for emphasis, silently inviting her to dig into the dish along with him. She accepts, slicing down the other side of the stack as he leans forward onto his elbows, mimicking her stance. He gives her a curious glance. “What about you? Do you like musicals?” 

Y/N shrugs, poking a few chunks of food onto her fork. “Not really, but I had a major Hamilton phase back in college. That’s why I recognized it.” 

Harry hums in understanding, picking a blueberry off and chewing it slowly, a sly smirk beginning to tweak the corners of his mouth. “So were you, like, a nerd back then?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say a nerd, but I had decent grades and was pretty quiet.”

He swallows down audibly, blinking impassively. “That’s literally the definition of a nerd.” 

Y/N returns his flat expression. “Fuck off.”

Harry throws his palms up in peaceful surrender, but he still has that shit-eating grin present. “Alright, fine, fine...It’s okay if you were, though. You were probably one of those cute ones, y’know? With the clunky glasses and innocent goody-goody face.” 

“Shut up.”

“Oh, and with one of those short little plaid skirts?” He releases a pained groan, clutching his chest and closing his eyes for a second. She has no doubt he’s sketching some type of graphic image of her in his mind. “God, I bet you looked so good. Do you still have it? Can you wear it for me?”

“I said shut up!” Y/N reaches forward and stabs at his tummy lightly with her fork, ignoring the warmth crawling up her neck and across her cheeks. “Fucking perv.”

Harry smacks her utensil away with his own, giggling lightly as she tries to prick him again, continuing to fight her off. “I’m just asking a question! For science!” 

Y/N twists her fork around his, trying to outmaneuver him into dropping it. “How could my fashion sense in college possibly contribute to science in any way?” 

The vampire easily catches onto her play, slipping himself out of her grasp and trying to trap her makeshift sword down against the tabletop. He purses his lips into a simper, glimpsing up at her through his lashes and quirking his brows cheekily. “Biologically, of course. It contributes to my solo reproductive activities.”

“You are vile.” 

“Really? ‘Cause you seemed pretty happy to help with said activities last night.” 

Y/N drops her fork onto the brim of the platter, reaching up to massage at her temples and keep herself from swatting Harry’s eyeballs out of their sockets. “I’m finished.” 

“Yeah,” the jade of his irises glimmers coyly as he sets down his utensil beside hers in a ceasefire, “you definitely finished.”

Harry chuckles boyishly as Y/N drags her palms down her face, trying to hide away how flustered he’s getting her. She decides to change the subject, not caring to steer the conversation smoothly at all, but rather jumping to another topic right away. “So does this mean you have all the lyrics memorized? Since you like them so much?” 

“I do, yeah.” Harry taps his fingers against the marble counter to the beat of the song currently playing. “Do you?” 

“I was obsessed, so of course I do.” Y/N reasons, her own digits following in tune with the immortal’s. “I think Non-Stop was probably my favorite to sing. It made for a good shower concert.”

“Well, it’s settled then.” Harry quips happily, reaching for his phone and tapping across the screen. “We’re duetting this. Right now. C’mon, Burr.”

Y/N’s motions stop, shyness creeping in from the back of her brain. “Oh, I don’t know, Harry. I never really—”

Her refusal is interrupted by the beginning of the arrangement mentioned, the notes blasting through the speaker as Harry purposefully turns up the volume to drown her out. He taps at his ear symbolically, mouthing, “Sorry, I can't hear you!” and he doesn’t even attempt to ward off the evil grin creeping across his face. 

“Harry, I’m serious—” 

But it’s already too late. Harry juts his hand out in front of him, pointing at his companion with a theatrical edge as he begins to serenade, picking up the slack of her part. 

“After the war I went back to New York. A-After the war I went back to New York. I finished up my studies and I practiced law. I practiced law, Burr worked next door!”

He looks at her expectantly, urging her to jump into the next half as her assigned role. Y/N muscles down her hesitation and recites the lines timidly with her brows creased in hesitation, but at least she’s participating. “Even though we started at the very same time, Alexander Hamilton began to climb. How to account for his rise to the top?”

Harry joins her in the next stanza, grabbing her hand midair in encouragement, trying to shake her out of her rut. “Man, the man is non-stop!”

Y/N is surprised at how well they sound harmonizing together, and she can feel her discomfort slowly begin to melt. She watches as Harry freely boasts his solo with absolutely no remorse, making grand gestures as he slides down the side of the counter, his movements dragging her along. 

“Gentlemen of the jury, I'm curious, bear with me. Are you aware that we're making history?” The boy taps at his chin to symbolize that he’s thinking, acting out the story the lyrics construct. “This is the first murder trial of our brand-new nation, the liberty behind deliberation.”

He points at Y/N once again and she does the supporting vocals, gradually beginning to gain more confidence. “Non-stop!”

“I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt, with my assistant counsel—”

Harry doesn’t even have to cue Y/N this time around; she picks up her half immediately, falling into line with him flawlessly as if they’ve done this a million times before. “Co-counsel. Hamilton, sit down. Our client Levi Weeks is innocent, call your first witness.”

Harry quickly rounds the corner of the kitchen island, giving her body a grand spin as he draws closer, coming to stand right before her. She gives him a fake exasperated look to match the attitude her character depicts, shaking her head in disapproval. “That's all you had to say.”

“Okay…” The creature yanks Y/N forward into his bare chest, leaning down and flirting his lips right over hers tauntingly, eyes half-lidded in amusement. “One more thing—”

“Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room?” The girl rolls her eyes dramatically, shoving past Harry’s shoulder and she finds it humorous how these lines fit so well, almost as if they were actually directed at him, calling him out on the arrogance he always seems to dote. “Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Soon that attitude may be your doom.”

Harry swivels on his heel, following her as she scurries outside the kitchen entrance, running into the living room. 

“Why do you write like you're running out of time?” Y/N grabs onto one of the couch cushions, pretending to scribble over it with a fake pen. “Write day and night, like you're running out of time? Everyday you fight, like you're running out of time.”

Harry swipes at her from across the couch, trying to grasp onto the jumper she’s wearing. “Keep on fighting in the meantime.”

Y/N ducks out of the path of his grabbing hand, chucking the pillow forward and it bonks him square in the face. She sticks her tongue out at him as Harry scowls dully, climbing onto his sofa and scuttling towards her on his hand and knees.

She jumps just out of reach, diving across the other end of the furniture. The vampire throws his weight to try and tackle her to the sofa, but she just barely escapes. He ends up toppling over the backrest due to his over-abundant momentum. 

“Non-stop!” Y/N waves her middle up at him triumphantly as he pushes himself up off the ground, giving her a challenging look as he takes off after her once again. 

The pair continue to sing back and forth, with Harry chasing Y/N around the living room and kitchen as he belts out his part of the song, Y/N always somehow managing to slip from his grasp as soon as her turn hits. They’re a mess of giggles, silly faces, and boisterous actions as they reenact the play and neither can recall a time they had ever had more fun. There’s never been an instance when they felt so comfortable with another soul that they are willing to run around half-naked, screaming lyrics at each other in their underwear, not caring who sees or overhears. It just feels so second-nature.

A section of the song comes up where a woman is singing and Harry immediately takes up the part, placing his hand on his bare hip and standing in the most feminine fashion he can possibly muster, fanning at his face. “I am sailing off to London, I am accompanied by someone who always pays.” 

The exaggeration makes Y/N bend over laughing and her distraction allows Harry to nab her. He pulls her into his embrace by her forearms, cackling through the following stanza as she wriggles and squirms to try and get free. “I have found a wealthy husband who will keep me in comfort for all my days.” 

Y/N finally gives up on trying to thrash herself free, going limp against his chest and glimpsing up at him with begrudged annoyance, but a fond smile is unmistakably buckling her cheeks. Harry leans down, singing right in her face just to flaunt his victory, their noses brushing. “He is not a lot of fun, but…”

And then, there’s a shift in the ambiance between them. 

Harry gazes down at her as she giggles up at him from his arms, full of so much genuine warmth and excitement, she could power the entire city if she wanted. Her shoulders are heaving slightly as a result of all the running, there’s still faint traces of black mascara smeared under her waterline and down her cheeks from the previous evening’s exertions, she has some acne scarring littering her cheekbones that look fairly recent, and her hair looks like it could nest a family of at least ten birds. But despite these imperfections, Harry finds himself feeling oddly endeared by it all. These flaws are all things he’s gotten used to and has grown to treasure in Y/N. They make her who she is. They make her witty, and they make her clever. They make her fun, as well as trusting. They make her likeable, and energetic, and kind. They make her a good friend and a generous lover. They make her... her. Harry gets the feeling that if she didn’t have all of these traits— if even one was missing— this little arrangement they have going wouldn’t have flourished the way it did. 

Yeah, maybe he would have slept with her once or twice more just to scratch an itch, but he most likely would have let it fizzle to an end after the fact. Her personality paired with these small details— albeit, not all entirely attractive— that make up her existence play a key role in the dynamic they share. And he wouldn’t trade them for anything else— wouldn't trade Y/N for anyone else. Not anytime soon. 

A warm surge travels through his chest, filling his veins like kerosine, heating him from the heels of his socked feet to the tips of his ice cold fingers. An unorthodox swelling sensation twists inside his ribs, right where his heart used to beat, and he finds himself reciting the next line in a soft voice packed with more emotion than he’s shown or felt in the last two centuries.

“There’s no one who can match you, for turn of phrase…”

Y/N seems oblivious to all of the unsettling experiences he’s undergoing, her amused expression not changing in the slightest. Harry allows the rest of the song lyrics to pass by, the lump in his throat too heavy to fight. Instead, he just keeps staring down at Y/N with brows frowning in confusion, his breathing coming out bated and shaky, and that knot in his chest continuing to tighten until it becomes painful. He gets the sudden urge to kiss her— to feel her lips press to his and feel her give into him the way she always does. The way she has for the last four weeks. He doesn’t want it to be sloppy or desperate or sexual; he wants it to be intimate, soft, and caring. He wants it to be special. Something they share. Something only they share.

Then, that moment passes. That flicker of weakness that had leaked through vanishes and Harry feels like he can breathe properly again.

He breaks their locked eyes, releasing Y/N from his hold and taking a swift step back, coughing awkwardly to try and rid the tickling sensation in the back of his throat. He scratches at the nape of his neck nervously, fiddling with his baby curls and attempting to piece himself back together after that unexpected and unwelcome intrusion of his innermost feelings. Though, he doesn’t know if that spectacle even files under the category of emotions; from what he remembers, they aren’t supposed to tangibly attack you in such a manner. It felt more like a violation— like someone had gone in and started poking and prodding at his subconscious with a metal skewer. 

“Harry…?” Y/N inches closer to him, concern prevalent in her voice and across her features as she stretches her hand out caringly. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to be sick.” 

“I-I’m—” His voice comes out higher than usual and quivering, so he coughs once again to get it under control, taking another step back. He's scared that if she touches him, that horrible burning sensation will come back. “I’m fine. Just...Just forgot the lyrics.” 

“Oh, okay…” The girl doesn’t sound convinced with the answer, but she lets the subject falter anyways, her hand dropping back down beside her thigh. “Just checking.” 

“Yeah, I got that. Uh, thanks. But I’m all good now.” He holds up a clenched first and juts out his pinky, wiggling it for significance. “Promise”

Y/N scoffs gently at his playful deed. “Alright, then.” 

Harry eyes her attentively as she returns to her previous spot in front of the plate of pancakes, retrieving her fork and starting to pick at them like before, as if nothing had happened. As if Harry hadn’t just almost had a cardiac arrest, despite the fact that the organ responsible had crumbled to dust ages ago.

“Are you gonna eat anymore?” Y/N signals down at the stack of pastries before her questioningly. “Because if you don’t get some now, I’ll eat them all myself. Don’t think I won’t. They’re better than the ones I make and—”

The vampire suddenly feels like bile is rising up his throat and his words spew out before he can think to stop them, though he’s not so sure he would. 

“Do you want to stay over the rest of the weekend?”

[lovelylexipedia]

I would love a jackson avery x reader fic where the reader is pregnant and jackson is running around after her at the hospital to make sure she isn’t putting too much pressure on herself so he takes her to the on-call room for a rest and it’s really fluffy because he talks to her belly? i’m sorry if this was really long! welcome to tumblr!🥰❤️

Rest is For The Weak – Jackson Avery x Fem! Reader

Type: Imagine (2,200+ words)

Requested: Yes! by @elljmaybank

Summary: Expecting her to stay home, Jackson leaves his pregnant wife home alone to go to work. When he catches her at the hospital, he does everything in his power to get her to stop and relax.

Warning(s): Grey's Spoilers, Fluff (lots of it!), Protective Figure, minor Angst

Note(s): Reader is 30 weeks along with Jackson's baby. Thank you for the request! I really hope I did it justice. I kinda rushed it at the end, but I hope it's okay :)

———

I hear the bathroom door close slowly and scrunch up my face. I try to fall back asleep, but the small noises throughout Jackson and my's bedroom keep me from it. After a while, I let out a small yawn and open my eyes, blinking to adjust to the light coming in from the rising sun.

I make an attempt to sit up in bed, but my back protests, sore and achey. I let out a small groan and catch Jackson's face pop out from behind his closet's doorframe.

"Y/n, crap, did I wake you?" Jackson winces, taking quiet steps toward my side of the bed.

"No no no, my back is just killing me, this little stinker won't let me get comfortable. I tried reasoning with him, but he won't give." I groan again, laying on my right side.

Jackson sighs in relief and walks around the bed to my side. He kneels down and kisses me on the cheek, running a hand through my hair.

"Maybe he'll listen to me." He leans down to my tummy, removing the white comforter covering my body and lifting up my oversized pajama shirt. Jackson taps at my tummy and I giggle at the sight. "Hey, buddy," He whispers, "you gotta let your Momma rest... She's already cranky enough."

I laugh and roll my eyes, pushing Jackson's shoulder, and causing him to stumble over. "Okay, maybe no more talk time for you."

Jackson steadies himself with a chuckle and and stands up straight. He brushes off his dark jeans and zips up a grey jacket, fixing up the hood.

"I made breakfast and happened to have some left over. It's just some eggs and toast. I put it in a little container and left it on the island if you want it later." Jackson says as he makes his way to the other side of the bed to grab his keys from the nightstand.

"Thank you, you gonna be okay leaving me here alone?" I ask as Jackson walks over to the bedroom door.

"I don't know, are you gonna be okay alone?" Jackson replies sarcastically. I grin. "Alright, if you need anything, you can call me and I'll try to get here. If you can't reach me, try my mom."

"Okay, okay'" I say quietly, pushing myself up to sit up in bed despite the pain.

Jackson notices and frowns. He walks over again and leans down to kiss me. "Don't do anything too strenuous, okay? Just get your rest."

I scoot back against the headboard and nod, looking him in his bright green eyes. "Okay, I promise."

"I love you, Y/n." Jackson smiles, kissing me one last time before heading out.

I yell back an 'I love you' and wave as he leaves the room. I hear the front door shut a few seconds later and sit in silence. Every few seconds, I shift and scoot around, trying to find a way to ease the aches.

Jeez, bud, parenting better be less painful than this. I complain to myself.

After a few minutes of sitting alone with my thoughts, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. I set my feet down and push myself up, holding onto my belly with my free hand in the process.

I decide to take a few steps, wobbling here and there. After what feels like hours, I finally make it into the kitchen. The eggs and toast sit inside a clear plastic container and I nearly gag at the smell.

No thanks...

I take it upon myself to make myself breakfast. I throw out the toast and eggs in the trash can and ponder what to eat. I find a nearly finished bag of Corn Flakes and take a bowl, pouring the cereal and eating it like popcorn. After that, I snack on a frozen Pop-Tart and drink a glass of milk.

Settling myself on the living room couch, I flick through TV channels, bored out of my mind. Minutes pass by like hours and I end up falling asleep on the couch.

The nap ends after an hour and a half, when I suddenly feel a few sharp pains in my right side. I rub my stomach and lean my head back, trying to calm myself down.

You're okay, bud. You're okay, Momma's okay. We're okay.

I take deep breaths, trying to keep my composure. I grip the arm of the couch with one hand and force myself to stand. I stumble across the house, still rubbing my side and making small, calming affirmations to myself and the baby.

This is the fourth time this month...

I make it back to the bedroom and force myself to change into some baggier clothing. The pain subsides slightly as I begin putting on my sneakers. I groan, taking my set of keys and phone from the dresser in front of our bed.

I make my way around and out of the house, locking the door behind me. I force my keys into my pocket and dial my OB, Carina DeLuca.

"Y/n! What's going on? Are you okay?" Carina answers quickly, concern laced in her voice.

"I just wanted to come in... as a precaution," I say as I walk into the building's elevator. "I've been, getting these shooting pains for the past month. I just want to check if the baby's okay."

"Do you want me to make you an appointment?" Carina asks.

"No- I don't want Jackson to know, he might find out somehow. Could you just squeeze me in quickly?" I bite my lip, tapping my foot as I wait for the elevator doors to open at the bottom floor.

"Okay... Okay, I can try. Right now is perfect. Just tell the nurses up front it's an emergency and they should let you right in." Carina explains.

"Oh, thank you, Carina. You're the best. I should be there in a few." I gush, trying to rush off the elevator.

"Y/n, are you gonna be driv-" I hang up the phone before Carina can finish and try to rush out to my car.

———

"Carina, is he okay? Is my baby okay?" I ask urgently, looking between her and the ultrasound machine.

Carina continues moving the wand around where the pain would be. "He looks buono e sano, good and healthy, Y/n/n."

I let out a sigh of relief, laying my head back against the headrest. "Oh, thank God... But what could those pains have been?"

Carina purses her lips and removes the wand from my stomach, cleaning off the residue. "Could be stress, could be the hormones, different foods, your muscles could be constricting because they've had to work so hard with supporting the baby."

I shake my head. "Oh, I was so scared. I didn't want to go into early labor. Thank you for squeezing me in, I really appreciate it."

"No problem, amica mia. Now are you sure you don't want to tell Jackson?" She removes her gloves and I can feel her gaze from behind me.

"No, it's okay. I'm probably just gonna head home." I say, scooching off the examination table and grabbing my clothes to change back into.

———

I tug on my baggy shirt and put my phone in my back pocket, looking up to decide which way to go to get to my car.

Before I can even make a decision, Schmitt runs up, panting like a madman.

"Dr. L/n! We need Ortho. We got a trauma in, motorcycle accident, rider's right and left legs broken in 4 places each, right shoulder dislocated and left arm broken in two places."

He looks me up and down and his face grows red. "You're supposed to be on maternity leave, aren't you?"

"Doesn't matter now, Glasses. Let's go!"

Schmitt ushers me towards the trauma bay and adrenlaine rushes through me. The pain immediately evades my body and everything after is a blur.

I pull on a trauma gown over my loose clothes and tie up my hair into a ponytail. The patient is located in Trauma 1 and I rush in, finding Owem, Meredith, and Amelia already assessing the biker.

"Y/n! Shouldn't you be at home? I thought you were on maternity leave?" Amelia cocks her head to the side and I shake my head.

"Just back for the day," I say quickly. I turn to Schmitt, asking for reassurance, "So, what do we have here?"

He begins, "Multiple broken bones, bruising and cuts everywhere, he's practically roadkill."

"Well by the time we're done with him, he'll be just fine. Let's get an OR booked, order an MRI and page Plastics too!"

———

Jackson and I met when I transfered from Seattle Presbyterian a few years back. I was a 5th year and he was a Plastics fellow.

By the time I became an Orthopedics fellow, we had already established ourselves as the power couple of the hospital, despite not being a couple yet.

Wherever he went, I was likely to follow. Our cases were often linked and we spent a lot of our time together outside of the hospital as well.

When he first asked me out, it was during a surgery of ours together. We spent our one year anniversary watching over an ICU patient. He proposed to me in an empty OR after a successful surgery. I told him I was pregnant in the Attendings lounge. Our whole story was based in the hospital.

I wait outside OR 4, eyeing the elevator from the corner of my view. Any second now our motorcycle guy would be wheeled in and I'd get to scrub in.

"Y/n! Y/n!" I hear him yell from the elevator, trying to get my attention.

Oh shit.

Jackson jogs over to me, concern washed over his face. I frown slightly, feeling bad that he's so worried about me.

"Jackson, hi, um, how...how did you find me?"

Jackson ushers me into the scrub room and closes the door behind us.

"Y/n, you can't be working, remember? You're on maternity leave. Go home." Jackson grabs me by my shoulders, looking me up and down.

"Jackson, I am fine! It's just one surgery, it's not that bad-" I pull out from his grasp and cross my arms under my chest.

"'Not that bad'? Y/n, that surgery could take more than a few hours. You could barely get out of bed this morning!" Jackson's motions to the operating room, raising his voice and I sigh.

"Jackson, we will continue this conversation at home. Preferably, after I finish this surgery." I say stubbornly. I turn to leave and Jackson follows me. I spot Owen and Amelia walking toward us and smile. "Hey, where's the patient?"

Amelia sucks in a breath. "We're holding off on surgery. He's very touch-and-go, so we're holding him in the ICU until tomorrow."

The both of them frown at me and I nod sadly. "Oh, okay. Thanks anyway, you guys."

"Y/n. Let's go." Jackson says sternly, looking only at me.

"I hope it all goes well tomorrow."

———

My breathing steadies after I sit on the bottom bunk in an on-call room. Jackson shuts the door behind us and opens the shutter slightly, letting a bit of the setting sun seep into the room.

I keep my head down, eyes closed. Afraid he'll be angry at me.

We're silent for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to say to each other. He starts first.

"Y/n, you know that I love you, right?" Jackson kneels down in front of me, I can feel his gaze resting on me.

"Yeah," I mumble, slowly lifting my head so we can meet each other's eyes.

"And you know that I'm taking your maternity leave so seriously because I want what's best for you and the baby, right?"

I groan and nod, covering my face with my hands. "Yes."

"Is it wrong? To want you both to be stress-free and healthy? Look at me when you answer, please."

Jackson takes my hands off my face and holds them, kissing the the backs of them before I respond. "No, it's not."

"Carina paged me, she said you came in. That you were worried about the baby. She told me he's okay. That you're okay." I can see tears forming in Jackson's eyes. He bows his head down and still clutches my hands tightly.

"Please, just promise me you'll take these last 4 weeks off. Completely. No work, no stress. Just bed rest and someone waiting on you." Jackson pleads softly, searching my face for an answer.

I lean in and kiss him softly. I take my hands out of his and wipe his tears from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I just miss being at the hospital, on my feet, ready to go wherever I need to be. This little guy just sucks the energy right out of me." I chuckle, holding Jackson close to me.

He kisses the top of my head and rests his cheek there for a few seconds. "Can I talk to him really quickly?" Jackson asks quietly, I'm barely able to hear him.

I let out a small laugh, remembering this morning. "Go ahead, but no Momma slander."

Jackson grins at me and we sit beside each other on the bottom bunk. He lifts my fresh navy scrubs up to the top of my belly and I hold them there for him. He taps again, lightly and clears his throat.

"Hi, bud. You doin' okay in there...?"

We stay there, taking turns talking to the little guy, excited for the day where we get to call ourselves parents.

[svtshine]

20 + 24 fluff with vernie??

thanks for the req anon ^^ hope you like it!

Sunshine

20: “Come on let me take care of you on your period”

24: “Stop pouting baby”

Pairing: Vernon x reader

genre: fluff

type: imagine

extras: requests are still open! Link is below. Sorry it’s a little short

You felt the excruciating pain shooting from your abdomen and making you curl into a ball. Vernon was alarmed at your disarray and gently shook you to wake you up.

Your eyesight was still a little hazy and you were sleepy as hell. You glanced at the clock beside you and Vernon’s bed and realised it was only 5 am on a saturday morning. Today was Vernon’s only rest day in the week and the two of you had many things planned but the pain from your stomach told you to stay put.

“What’s wrong babe?” Vernon mumbled, sleep still evident in his deep voice.

You shook your shoulders and assumed it was just a stomach ache and went to the toilet. It was until you pulled down your pants and saw the crimson colour of your period stain, which made your eyes widened and a sigh to come out from you. You quickly washed up and changed into a pad before coming out to change out the bed sheets. This made you distracted from the pain still coming from your cramps.

As you entered the room, Vernon had already disposed of the previous bedsheets and replaced it with new ones. He was putting on a shirt since he slept without one before going up to you and hugging you tight.

You pouted, seriously of all days, you had forgetten your period was due on his only rest day. Vernon swayed you side to side to comfort you, knowing you might’ve felt a little embarrassed. You pouted, Vernon had done so much for you and now he can’t even properly enjoy his rest day.

“Vernie, i’m so sorry, We had so much planned for today and i just had to—“ Vernon shushed you and his fingers rested on your lips.

“shh, stop pouting baby. It’s not your fault, you know that. I have the most fun whenever i’m spending time with you despite the situation. I love you okay”

You nodded, eyes filled with tears at how much his words meant to you. This man was really a treasure you didn’t deserve.

“Now, you get changed into fresh clothes while i wash up. I’ll prepare breakfast, some hot tea and your heating pad for you” Vernon kissed you on the lips.

He took a few steps towards the bathroom before turning around like he remembered something, “Also, check if you have enough pads. If you don’t i’ll get them when i go get your chocolate and snacks as well okay?”

Seriously. How did you find this amazing man

As promised, Vernon prepared a wonderful breakfast for you before eating some and taking a quick trip to the store. He returned with one bag full of pads and the other with chocolates, chips, ice cream and others.

You greeted him with a kiss at the door which he happily returned. “I forgot the brand you use for pads so i bought 5 other brands for you love” He said while nervously scratching his cheek.

“Thank you so much baby” you said, leaving kisses all over his face.

Your period camps hit worse in the afternoon. You were sweating and groaning and not because of anything enjoyable. nO. Vernon was worried for you, but based on past experiences he helped massage your tummy, reheated the heating pad for you and prepared some hot drinks.

The rest of the day, the both of you watched movie marathons on your bed, snuggled together in a warm haven of blankets, pillows and hoodies.

You sniffed the hoodie that Vernon gave you to wear, his familiar scent making you feel safe as well as whole self lying next to you. Your wrapped your arms around his waist and cuddled closer into him.

Vernon gave you a quick kiss on the nose, “love you baby” before turning back to the tv while rubbing your sides up and down.

For dinner, Vernon prepared chicken noodle soup for the both of you and afterwards the two of you munched on snacks and chocolates.

At night, Vernon helped you change into your comfy clothes before changing into his own and clinched into bed with you.

“Baby again, i’m so sorry we couldn’t do much today. Thank you for taking care of me” You said earnestly, wanting to appreciate all that Vernon has done for you.

Vernon smiled, he was spooning you from behind and his words made you feel loved like always, “You don’t have to thank me baby. You’re my sunshine, the one i look forward to everyday. I’d do anything for you because i love you so god damn much. Remember that darling” You tested up again and turned around to press your face into his chest.

“I love you too Vernon. So much”

Vernon smoothened out your hair and sang you to sleep.

Masterlist

Prompt request link

[novoaa1writes]

“f**k you.”

pairing(s): mandy milkovich x reader

summary: you and mandy are friends with benefits, or... something. you tentatively discuss her pregnancy, and offer your help. mandy is... less than pleased. (contains spoilers for season 2 of shameless)

rating: mature

word count: ~1,400

warnings: unhealthy relationships, implied/referenced canonical child abuse, teen pregnancy, implied/referenced sex, swearing, brief discussion of abortion, minor blood, implied/referenced drug addiction, implied/referenced forced pregnancy

notes: reader is an adoptive gallagher, raised with them since childhood but unrelated by blood. also, the reader is not necessarily specified as female, but they do have b00bies. take that as you will. also available on ao3.

if you've seen shameless (U.S.), this is written very much in keeping with the fucked-up interpersonal dynamics that make up the entirety of the show. the reader's relationship with mandy isn't a healthy one, and the writing reflects that. i'd even say there's likely a solid argument to be made that the relationship between mandy and the reader is actually abusive in some aspects. please don't read if that's going to trigger you in any way.

✳ ✳ ✳ ✳ ✳ ✳

You’re lying in bed together, naked and glistening with sweat, when you finally dare to broach the topic. 

“So, uh…” you trail off, sitting yourself up with a grunt to reach for the pack of cigs and lighter strewn on the floor nearby. Mandy stares you down with an unreadable expression as you put one between your lips and— “Shit, sorry,” you apologize, tossing the joint aside. Smoking and pregnancy don’t mix. “That’s, um… Sorry.”

‘Cause sure, maybe you’re not the pregnant one here, and maybe you know for damn sure that your meth-head mom wasn’t sober when she had you kicking around in her tummy, but you figure refraining from smoking around Mandy when she can’t is the least you can do.  

Mandy sighs, props herself up on her elbows and gives you a knowing look. “Just ask,” she says. She sounds exhausted. 

You lean back into bed, hold yourself up with an elbow as you turn to face her. “Pregnant, huh?”

“Ian told you.” 

“Your dad, actually,” you correct her, then instantly regret it when you see something like fear flicker through her gaze. “Ian’s fine, though.”

“No, he’s not.” Mandy huffs out a sigh, hanging her head back, eyelids fluttering shut. An errant thought comes—that you’ve never seen her look so defeated or beautiful: naked in bed after rounds of desperate sex, bedsheets sagging low on her slender hips, pert breasts rising and falling with every measured breath. You’re quick to do away with it. “My dad’s gonna kill him.”

You shrug. “Lip and I’ve been doing some brainstorming. We’ll figure it out.”

If Mandy hears you at all, she doesn’t let on. “I tried to tell him,” she murmurs, eyes still shut. “He didn’t listen.”

“Who, Ian?”

Mandy gives the slightest shake of her head. “My dad.”

“Well, I mean… We know it can’t be Ian’s, but you had that thing with Lip, right? What if it’s his?” You feel a little uncomfortable bringing it up, having grown up alongside him since you were little. Lip, Ian, Carl, Debby, Liam… they’re your siblings in everything but name. 

“It’s not.” Mandy collapses back down onto the mattress with a huff. 

“Oh,” you say. You don’t ask, ‘Then whose is it?’—even though you kind of want to.

“My dad… he drinks a lot,” Mandy mumbles after a long moment. Her eyes flutter open, but she isn’t looking at you. She’s staring straight up at the ceiling—through it, even, like it isn’t even there. Like she isn’t there. “Mistakes me for Mom.”

Every muscle in your body goes tense as nausea churns in your gut. “Your dad…” you repeat, swallowing down bile. 

Mandy slants a look over to you, dead-eyed and emotionless. “It’s not a big deal,” she tells you, a cold edge to her tone. “Stop fuckin’ looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re pitying me.”

It takes everything in you not to glance away from her, run down the hall to the bathroom and puke your guts out in the toilet. “What do you want to do?” 

Mandy shifts her gaze back to the ceiling. “You got $600 lying around?” 

For a split second, you’re confused. Why $600— 

And then it hits you. An abortion at the clinic. 

You shake your head. “No, I don’t.”

Mandy nods, eyes watering, a sardonic smile tugging at her lips. “Thought so.”

You bite the inside of your cheek hard until you taste blood, thoughts racing. A second later, you’re surging upright, stumbling to your feet. 

“The hell are you doing?” Mandy asks, sounding caught somewhere between bone-tired and just plain irritated. 

You snatch up your jeans, feel around for the flip phone you had in your back pocke—

There it is. 

You flip it open, scroll through the handful of contacts until you reach Kev. 

Phone against your ear, you chance a look back at Mandy. She’s got a murderous look in her eye. You figure you’ve got about two minutes before she starts chucking anything and everything within reach your way. 

Please, Kev, pick up. 

Two rings on the other end, then—

“Go for Kev.”

Thank fuck. 

“Hey, Kev,” you say, beginning to pace. You’re buck-ass naked, and Mandy’s watching you like a hawk (a very angry hawk, granted), but you don’t really have it in you to be self-conscious about it for the moment. “You think I can rent out the Alibi for tomorrow night, do a, uh… fund-raiser type thing?”

“What? Who’s dying?”

You roll your eyes. “No one’s dying, Kev. I just need to raise $600 bucks. It can be a… bake-sale, or some shit. Put a couple other random things up for sale, too. Grammy’s gun, some of Monica’s old clothes… All goes well, we make enough to cover renting the bar for the night and then some.”

Mandy’s gaze turns from murderous to calculating as she watches you, though you know better than to think that means you’re in the clear with her. 

It’s quiet on the other end for a beat, then two. Eventually, “Tomorrow night?” he repeats. 

You nod, biting your lip. “Tomorrow night. I’ll get everyone off their ass to start baking tonight. Debby can make some fliers, spread the word. It’ll be a full house. Please, Kev.”

He heaves a sigh, and you know you have him. “Alright,” he agrees. “Drop by later today, we’ll work out the details, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course, I’ll be there,” you agree earnestly, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Thank you, Kev. You’re the best.”

“Don’t I know it. See you soon. Bye.”

“Bye.”

You’ve only just shut the phone and clutched it to your bare chest, wearing a stupidly proud grin, when—

SMACK!

Pain explodes across your left cheek, whipping your entire head to one side. 

“Fuck!” you curse, looking up to see a fuming Mandy standing before you, bloodshot green eyes alight with mutiny. “The hell was that for?”

Mandy just glares, seething silently. 

“What?” you ask, pins and needles dancing along your cheek. 

It’s quiet for a beat. 

Then Mandy’s surging forward, crashing her lips into yours in a bruising kiss, all tongue and teeth and wet warmth. 

Oh.

You’re frozen in shock for a second or two, your mind still kind of stuck on the part where she slapped you, but a warning growl against your mouth has you instinctively parting your lips and ceding Mandy’s unspoken request, reciprocating with fervor. 

A strangled groan works its way up your throat and she swallows it with ease, fingers snaking into your hair, yanking until you whine. 

You toss the phone somewhere off to the side, hear it land with clatter. You really couldn’t care less. 

Your hands fall to her naked hips and you pull her flush against your body—chest to chest, hip to hip. Mandy whines with approval as you snake an arm around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer like it’s not enough to have her breasts mashed against your own, her heartbeat thrumming along your skin. 

You want more; no, you need more. 

She’s a whirlwind—destructive, turbulent, beautiful in her fury. Your free hand creeps down to lift her thigh, guiding it to curl around your torso even as she devours you, bites at your lower lip hard enough to make it bleed. 

“Fuck you,” she gasps between violent kisses, breathless and angry. “You fucking idiot.”

“Kiss me again,” you say, and she does—gripping a hand around your throat and crashing her lips into yours, one hand still tugging relentlessly at a fistful of your tousled hair. The stinging sensation brings tears to your eyes. 

“Don’t need your help. Don’t need anyone’s help.” She pulls away panting, only to lick up the blood that’s started dribbling down your chin before kissing you again with just as much fierceness and hostility as before. 

Your cheek aches, your lip stings, your lungs burn from lack of oxygen. All you can taste is coppery blood and stale cigarettes and Mandy, Mandy, Mandy. 

She’s never been this rough with you before. Then again, she’s never been this pissed off at you before.

You decide you should piss her off a lot more often. (Especially if this is how it’s gonna be when you do.)

✳ ✳ ✳ ✳ ✳ ✳

end notes: do i realize mandy milkovich is problematic and kind of insane? yes. am i still lowkey in love with her? double yes. 

link to masterlist

[marveloussupernerd]

For the Holiday Prompts, can you do #46 with Saeyoung and a f!MC? Thanks!

Aw yes!! I was hoping somebody would request this with him :)

Seven’s Jacket - 707

This is from my Christmas prompt list !

Prompt: “I’m cold. Can you give me your jacket?”

Warnings: spoilers for Seven’s real name (duh !)

Summary: Seven had planned out the perfect outdoor wintry date. However, he had forgotten to tell you to plan for the weather. Lots of fluff

“Babe!” Saeyoung whined, calling you from your shared bedroom. “Are you almost ready?”

He had been asking you for the past fifteen minutes. You had just started your makeup when he started complaining. It almost made you want to go even slower, but you were worried he actually had time-sensitive plans.

You fixed your hair one last time before heading out of the bathroom to meet up with him.

“Wow,” was all he could say. You were wearing a dress and tall boots. You’d probably pair it with a scarf because fashion. But that was all. “Wait... you look sexy as hell.”

You giggled, brushing his comments off, trying to ignore how giddy they made you felt. “Worth the wait?” You asked him teasingly.

He swooped in and wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you close to him. “Well worth the wait. You look perfect.” He kissed your cheek. Then your nose. Then your lips. Then he was peppering kisses all over you.

You tried to push him off of you, but it was hard to be serious with how silly he was being. “Saeyoung! We have to get going.”

He finally released you from his grasp, grabbing a jacket then taking your hand to lead you out the door. He picked his favorite bright red babe car, opening the door for you and making sure you were all situated before shutting it and getting in the drivers side.

“What do you have planned for tonight? I’m super excited.” You questioned, buckled your seatbelt.

“Oh lots of fun things! But we’ll start with dinner.”

“I can’t know the whole itinerary now?” You pouted.

He simply chuckled and shook his head. “That would ruin the surprise! You do trust me, right?”

You giggled and leaned over to kiss his cheek. Of course you did.

The restraunt (JESUS CHRIST I CANT SPELL RESTAURANT) he took you to was... really fancy. Like table linens. Cloth napkins. Domes over food as they served it. “Sae... how did you-“

He shushed you, waving his hand to disregard your question. He gave the host your name and you were brought to your table. They offered to take your coats and everything. Seven pulled out your chair and scooted it in for you.

“Am I dressed well enough for this? This is probably the fanciest place I’ve been in my whole life. How did you get in here on Christmas Eve?” Your mind was racing. This seemed like the type of place Jumin would take someone for an expensive business deal, not a place fit for you and Seven.

“Well, I-“ he ran a hand through his hair. “This is my first real Christmas. I’ve got you and I’ve got Saeran and I feel like I can finally be happy and enjoy it. That’s all thanks to you. I wanted to show you how grateful I am.”

“That’s so sweet. I’m happy we can share this day with each other, and tomorrow with your brother.” You couldn’t hide the fondness you felt towards the two. “You both deserve it.” The waiter came to take your order. Seven really wanted to order for the both of you (he said it made him feel fancy) so you decided, eh, screw feminism, you’d let him.

“After seeing the waiter I finally feel underdressed,” Saeyoung commented. He was wearing a dark maroon sweater and black jeans. It looked really nice, and pretty dressed up for Seven. He had switched his glasses to a plain black pair and everything.

You glanced at the women in evening gowns. “Me too honestly. I think you look nice though.”

“I think you look stunning.” He winked dramatically at you.

The rest of the dinner was primarily the two of you basking in rich people food and you poking questions to try and figure out what Saeyoung had planned after dinner, but he wouldn’t budge. Your eyes about popped out of their sockets upon seeing the bill (and that was WITHOUT an appetizer or dessert), but Seven seemed unphased. Later you’d have to ‘reprimand’ him for spending so much money on you.

Finally you left, hand-in-hand. You walked to the car, but Saeyoung kept going. “Cmon. I’ve got more planned, remember?” He tugged your entwined hands a little to get you moving again.

“Where are we going? Am I allowed to know now?”

He sighed like it was the most dramatic thing on Earth. “Well, if you must, we’re going to the park.”

The park? You hadn’t even realized there was a park over here. Still, you were more than happy that he finally gave you an answer and kept walking.

There was a giant Christmas tree in the park. “Second biggest one I’ve ever seen,” he commented. “I wanted to show you it.”

“What’s the first?” You asked curiously.

“C&R. Who’s surprised.” Nobody was. Jumin’s father enjoyed the holidays quite a bit.

Suddenly, Saeyoung cupped your cheek, turning you to look up at him. His hands were slightly chilly. “That’s not the only reason I brought you here though.”

“Oh?” You asked, the air leaving your mouth turning to fog as you spoke. It was starting to get cold.

He let go of you and pointed behind you. It was a horse carriage, all decked out in holly! “For real!?” You turned to him, practically bouncing in excitement (and to keep warm).

“For real for real!” His eyes were lit up; it seemed he was just as excited as you. He led you to the carriage, giving you his hand to help you up, then grabbing yours as you pulled him up. The horse driver dude seemed to know what was up and started moving.

You wrapped your arms around Seven’s arm, nuzzling into his shoulder. “This is perfect.”

Tiny tiny snowflakes started to fall from the sky, melting as they hit the pavement. “Even more perfect,” he commented, kissing your cheek. His nose brushing against your face made you shiver involuntarily, which he took note of, chuckling.

“Did you just shiver?” He asked, pressing his cold nose all over your face to make you shriek.

“Yes! Saeyoung, I’m freezing cold. I did not dress for outdoor activities.” You pushed his head away from you, still cuddled up to his warm arm.

“Whose fault is that?”

“Yours for not telling me what we were doing! Baby please?” You whimpered, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes, scooting your legs closer to his to try and warm them up.

“Please what?”

“I’m cold. Can you give me your jacket? Pretty pretty please?” You were practically sitting on top of him to stay warm at this point. He chuckled, shaking his head at you, muttering something about how you were too cute, then took his jacket off. He placed it over your shoulders, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to try and warm you up.

“Thank you,” you sighed happily. “Much much better.”

“Yeah you’re telling me. It’s freezing!” He exclaimed. He paused. Then raised an eyebrow. Then asked the carriage to stop. Then bounded off, leaving you there confused. Within seconds he was back with two styrofoam cups.

“Hot chocolate!” He exclaimed, handing you both of them while he climbed back on. The warmth escaped the cups quickly, heating up your fingers to the point where you could finally get feeling back.

“How thoughtful.” You passed his cup back to him and then took a sip. The drink burnt your tongue to the point where you could hardly taste it, but you could feel the warmth going down your throat. It was so nice. You drank it in absolutely no time. He pulled your legs onto his lap to try and take in some of your warmth. Who knows how that went for him. He went to take his first drink, his glasses fogging up from the steam.

You gently took the glasses off his face, wiping the fog off on your shirt, then placing it back on him. “That’s not gonna w-“ his glasses fogged up again immediately. “Work,” he sighed. “That’s okay. I’m okay with being blind.”

You took the opportunity of his temporarily imparts vision and crawled onto his lap completely, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Guess Who?” You asked, whispering right above his ear. He shivered, some of his hot chocolate sloshing onto your dress.

“The only other person here?” He guessed sarcastically. “You made me spill my drink Babe.”

“I’m sorry.” All of a sudden the carriage stopped. “But if it helps, I think we’re done with our ride.”

Saeyoung wiped his glasses with his free hand while you clambered off his lap, jumping down from the carriage. You thanked the driver profusely, then linked arms with Seven again to go back to the car.

You were surprised when he didn’t start driving immediately. Instead, he locked the doors and then turned up the heat all the way, basking in the sauna. “You were cold, huh? I can give you your jacket back,” you offered, sliding a sleeve off.

“No! You look all cute and cozy in it. It’s okay.” He rubbed his hands together in front of the vent, glancing at you to give you a reassuring smile.

“So is that it? Are we calling it a night? Because I’m FREEZING!” You exclaimed, rubbing your hands together as well.

“We actually have one more thing on the list.”

“Oh?”

He grinned. “Go home and eat a whole roll of Nestle Tollhouse cookie dough with Saeran.”

Now that sounded like the perfect way to end the night. You buckled up your seatbelt, signaling you were all ready to go. “Can’t wait. But if I get a tummy ache from the cookie dough you’re gonna have to stay up and rub my tummy all night.”

He rolled his eyes. “As if I wouldn’t do that anyway. You ready to go Babe?”

“Super ready!”

“I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to the car.”

[bunnyywritings]

 foolish yearning

ushijima wakatoshi x reader (feat. tendo...obviously)

𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 - 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 - 𝕟𝕖𝕩𝕥

[a/n: here’s part 1 of my new series...I feel like this is really long but uhh yeah here you go :) enjoy!! -yours truly, bunnyy -`ღ´-]

“Come on Wakatoshi~! Come with us!” Tendo was basically whining like a child, tugging at his jacket sleeve.

“Dorm curfew was 4-hours ago. (Y/n) shouldn’t even be in our dorm either.”

“Wow, ouch Toshi. I feel the love.” You playfully pouted, hand over your chest in mock offense.

“Live a little Wakatoshi-kun~ Make some memories that aren’t on the volleyball court.” He smiled teasingly at him.

“Please Toshiii~ It’s not like you were planning to go to sleep anytime soon, were you?” You smirked, knowing that he was just as much as a night owl as you and Tendo.

He looked at you, pensive eyes meeting your own. You decided to turn on the charm and pouted, batting your lashes at him. “Alright, fine. I’ll go.” You let out a small victory shout before as Wakatoshi got up to change into some more comfortable clothing.

Tendou smirked, he knew he could count on you to convince that big lug to agree to your guys’ ridiculous antics. His smirk turned into more of a sad smile once he caught where your eyesight was. You were looking at his friend longingly. He was rather surprised when you approached him the summer right before your guys’ third year started.

It was 3am when you called him, both of you deciding to take a drive. Tendo had finally gotten a car and he wanted to put it to good use. He picked you up, watching with wicked amusement as he witnessed you ungracefully climb out of your room window.

“So are we finally talk about what I think we’re gonna talk about?” He side eyed you, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

“W-What? Well that d-depends on what you think we’re talking about?” You bit your lip nervously as he pulled his car up to the drive through window.

“Well I may have an idea.” He held his hand out, you placing your card in his waiting palm. “I’m not called the Guess Monster for nothing, (y/n)-chan~” He handed the very tired looking employee the card before getting it back and handing it to you.

Your heart started beating faster, admitting to yourself that he probably was very well aware of what you were feeling. Once the bags and drinks were in the care, he sped into the empty parking lot of the shopping center.

“So what do you think we’re gonna talk about?” You asked, popping a couple of fries in your mouth.

“Your feelings for our dear Wakatoshi-kun~”

“...”

“Ugh! Of course you know!” You groaned, slumping back against the seat.

“Well you’re not very good at hiding it.” He shrugged, taking a sip of his coke.

“Wha- It was obvious?!” You had a furious blush burning at your cheeks.

“Mhmm, lucky for you that Wakatoshi isn’t very good at picking that stuff up.” He reached into the bag and grabbed a burger, unwrapping it and handing the greasy thing to you.

“I guess you’re right...” He unwrapped his own burger and took a bite, watching you worriedly as you stared out the window, taking a small bite of your food.

Back in his home, Ushijima had gotten up to get some water. On his way to the kitchen, he sneezed twice, his brows furrowing the slightest bit before getting his drink of water and going back to bed, hoping he wasn’t getting sick.

“There’s something else, right? Something that’s bothering you...” You had always appreciated that Tendo could read the room and be totally serious when situations like this occurred. There was an oddly calm silence in the car as he waited patiently for you to process your thoughts.

“I- well...” you sighed. “He doesn’t feel the same.”

“You confessed and I MISSED IT!?”

“What? Tendo no! I d-did not confess, I just have a feeling.” You glared at him.

“(Y/n). Last time you had a feeling, you fell face first into-”

“GAh! Tendo no! We promised to not talk about that anymore!”

“Right, sorry. But seriously? That’s all you’re going off of?”

“Yes? I mean, I think he just sees me as one of you guys. It doesn’t really help that I can never tell what his type is. He never breaks his neck trying to get a good look at someone or never says much when someone flirts with him.” You shrugged sadly.

He hated seeing you so upset but he really didn’t have an answer for you. He had tried, so many times, to try and see if the ace had feelings for you but he never got a solid answer out of Ushijima. Just a frown and a tilt of the head and a, ‘of course I like (y/n), she’s a very good friend of ours.’

Back to the present, he hated that he still didn’t have any good answers for you. Just another shrug or noncommittal statement passing his lips. You got up and brushed off your sweats.

“Hey Ten, can I borrow a sweater or something? I don’t feel like going back to my dorm.”

“You can borrow one of mine, they’re in that top drawer.” Tendo was stunned as he tried to make sense of what just happened.

Wakatoshi had not even let him open his mouth, he quickly realised why as he saw his friends eyes soften as you dug through his drawer and pulled on a hoodie. It was definitely way too big for you, but that made it all the better.

“Thanks Toshi!” There was a strange ache in his chest as you sat next to Tendo, his arm instantly pulling you into his side.

He had figured out his feelings for you sometime before school year started but had refrained from saying anything because he thought you and Tendo had a thing going on. You two were always close. You had slept over in their dorm room often, you cuddled up beside his red haired friend while watching anime or something on your laptop.

Don’t get him wrong, you were very affectionate with him too but he never really reciprocated. Sure, he’d throw an arm around you when you hugged him but that was really it. You had never been able to gauge whether he was uncomfortable with physical touch, his lack luster hugs made it seem that he didn’t but he secretly longed to have you cuddled into his side, or to have you sleep on his shoulder on the club bus but he’d never betray his friend...even when he didn’t really know if the two of you were together or not.

“Toshi?” Your voice had broken him out of his trance. “You ready to go?”

His quiet nod was all you needed to race to the door and fling it open, both boys following behind you. Stopping when you abruptly turned around, mischievous glint in your eyes.

“You think Goshiki is awake? I think he’d actually pass out if we invited him to hang out with us.” You quietly snickered.

“Ugh no! As much as I think it’d be funny, I can’t deal with that kid right now. We didn’t even invite Semi to hang out, so just us three.” Tendo rolled his eyes and turned you around, gently pushing you to the exit.

“Why would Goshiki pass out?” Ushijima thought aloud.

“Are you kidding me? He practically worships the ground we walk on. Especially you, Wakatoshi.” It was quiet on the way to the car, the three of you sneakily made your way to the parking lot.

“So what were we thinking? Ramen, pizza, burgers? All three?”

“Bold of you to assume that I wouldn’t actually get all three.” Tendo side eyed you.

“I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised since that bottomless pit of yours never seems to be satisfied.” You playfully smacked his tummy with your hand. Ushijima watched the interaction with slight disdain, his chest tightening painfully. 

Tendo picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, beginning to tickle your sides.

“TEN! TEN STOP! WE’LL GET CAUGHT!” The delighted giggles that left you made his cheeks pink.

“Say sorry (y/n)-chan~”

“Ahh I’m sorry!” His fingers glided against your sides even more relentlessly. “PLEASE! I’M SORRY!” When you were back on the ground, you gripped Tendo’s shoulders as you tried to catch your breath. The both of you had grins on your faces. He watched the soft way his friend looked into your eyes.

For what it’s worth, the two of you made a cute couple.

Once you guys had driven back to the school, it was 3am. You had decided to stay the night in their dorm, with their permission of course. But it was different this time.

Ushijima had decided to take a quick shower, he had expected to find you and Tendo asleep in each other’s arms so he was surprised when he re-entered the room and saw you curled up in his bed already asleep and Tendo was trying to stick something in your nose, his phone recording the whole time.

“What are you doing?” He asked as he dried his hair.

“Jeez Wakatoshi, you scared me.” Tendo flinched, standing up and turning off his phone. “I got bored and I needed to pee so...” and with that he walked passed and to the bathroom.

“Now how am I supposed to-?” Ushijima wondered aloud as he draped his damp towel over the desk chair. He slowly approached and sat onto the edge of the bed while slowly starting to slide onto it so he could sleep. He froze when you moved and turned towards him, eyes still closed. You threw your arm over his stomach and nuzzled into his side.

“Hmm you’re so warm Toshi~” You cooed sleepily.

His heart skipped a beat as he felt your body flush against his. Wanting you to be comfortable, he wrapped an arm around you and let your hair out of its loose ponytail, letting the hair tie expand over his wrist as he massaged your scalp and enjoyed the way you were practically purring. He remembered how much you liked it when you had your hair played with. He had seen Tendo do it countless times but had never done it himself. He found himself quickly falling asleep, a barely visible but content smile on his lips.

Tendo peeked around the corner with a smirk, taking his phone out and snapping a few pictures. He was definitely gonna tease you in the morning.

[samcrobae]

Off Limits, 4

Gif Credit: @pantherclawz

******************************

EZ stepped inside the clubhouse and all eyes were on him. “Rise and shine, kid thanks for joining us. You’re late. The hell you been?” Bishop asked as he sat at one of the tables.

“Sorry Bish, I got tied up with my old man, I was helping him bring some shelves into the shop.” EZ had to think quickly on his feet as all eyes were still on him, “it won’t happen again”.

Bishop and Taza got up and went outside leaving EZ, Coco, Gilly, and Angel inside. Angel delivered a smack to the back of EZ’s head. “Are you fuckin dumb? I told you not to even think about it. That shits over EZ.”

Coco and Gilly exchanged confused glances, “What are we ending?” Gilly asked.

“Oh this morning I went on a hunt to find my baby brother here,” Angel hooks his arm around EZs shoulders, “and this asshole was just leaving Y/N’s apartment bright and early, after having a nice lil shower there, after spending his whole weekend there...” Gilly let out a low whistle and looked down. Coco laughed, “damn Boy Scout I didn’t think you’d have the balls to actually do it! Sucks Bishop will kill you when he finds out.”

“He ain’t gonna find out because he is gonna end this shit.”

“Who’s not gonna find out about what?” You ask as you come up to the men, setting your bag down on the table. “Jesus Christ, there you go. you see? End it. This shit you got going on with him is going to get him killed.” Angel spat as he walked away. Coco and Gilly followed after him, a smirk on Coco’s face.

“We could just come out with it and not care..” you suggested.

“Are you crazy?! Bishop made it clear alright, you were supposed to be off limits to all of us.”

“EZ it’s not like we are running off getting married, I’m gonna be here all summer...can’t we just keep it lowkey? Keep having fun...” you reach over and grab his hand in yours and he clenches his jaw. You lean up and kiss his lips, his jawline, and his neck. “I mean, what do you want, Ezekiel? Is that what you want? Do you really wanna stop fucking me?” Your voice against his neck sends a quick shiver down his spine and he could his jeans grow tighter as he is now hard.

“You’re fucking killing me Y/N...go home. I shouldn’t have let it get that far, We can’t keep doing this...” he takes a step back and gives you a final look before heading to the back.

____________________________

Later that night you sat wide awake in bed, unable to sleep becuase no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t get him out of your mind. You didn’t want to settle down, be in a relationship, but being his friend and getting to sleep with him wouldn’t hurt nobody right? You felt an ache between your legs and you reached over to your night stand and grabbed your phone.

You kneeled on the bed and slightly lifted your shirt to expose some of the skin of your tummy, wearing a pair of black lace panties and snapped a picture and typed up a message before hitting send. “I really wish you were here to take these off.. 😘” you then lay on your back and get a video of you sliding your fingers into your panties, drawing slow circles over your center, then slipping your panties to the side and exposing yourself to the camera. “I need you EZ..”. Sent.

EZ was with Coco and Angel when his phone lit up, your name displaying on screen. Angel notices and watches as EZ opens his phone and quickly lowers it to cover whatever he’s looking at. EZ licks his lips and then puts his phone back in his pocket, a smirk on his face and then chugged the rest of his beer. “Don’t do it asshole. Don’t go see her.” Angel says. Coco looks over at Angel. “See who? Y/N?”

EZ gets up from his chair and throws his kutte on. “I gotta go, I’ll see you guys later”.

You waited 20 minutes and No reply. You let out a deep sigh and then reached over and turned off your light when you heard 3 knocks at your door. You slowly make your way to the living room and look through your peephole, surprised to EZ there. Unlocking your door, you open it and stare at him, a knowing grin across your lips. He quickly moves inside and slams the door shut behind him.

————————————————

The next few weeks went the same. He’d work his shift at the clubhouse, you’d work your shifts at the local hospital and spend your days off at the clubhouse. At this point, EZ practically spent all of his free time at your place. Always being very careful to make sure he wasn’t followed. Angel, Coco, and Gilly were privy to the fact that you and EZ had become some sort of “thing” but really didn’t know what to make of it. Hell, you didn’t even know what to make of it.

Pulling into the parking lot of the mall, where you and EZ spent most of the time eating when you’d grab something to eat, you dig through the bag and hand him his burger and fries. “EZ I’m so tired of sneaking around it’s kinda exhausting. We aren’t dating right ? So I mean who cares if someone sees us out in an actual restaurant eating at An actual table? Technically we aren’t doing anything wrong right?” You shove a couple fries into your mouth.

“That’s not the point Y/N.. if the wrong person sees us out, and it gets back to Bishop...”

“Okay fine, can you open a window? The smell of this food sitting In the car is starting to make me feel sick.” You say as you lower a window.

—————————————————

“You good? You been in there a while..” EZ knocked on the bathroom door as you hugged the toilet bowl. You were at Angels house for dinner with Angel, EZ, Coco, and Gilly.

“Yeah I’m fine just one second..” you managed to choke out. You wash your mouth and open the door greeted by a concerned EZ. “Hey you alright?”

“Yeah I’m fine, my stomach just has been feeling so fucked up lately... like since last week it’s like no matter what I eat, it just comes back up. It’s taking all of my strength it seems. I’m just gonna go home, I just want to go to bed.”

“You sure? You want me to come with you?” He asks.

“Yeah it’s okay, see you tomorrow.” You grab your purse and phone and head out.

“Where is she off to in such a hurry?” Angel motions to the front door.

“Home. I don’t know, she isn’t feeling too good I guess. She hasn’t been all week. I don’t know.” EZ takes a drink of his beer and looks at the Mayan men who are now staring back at him with raised brows.

He swallows and lets out a “What?”

“You sure she ain’t knocked up? You been wrapping it before you tap it right Boy Scout?”

“Yeah she’s definitely not pregnant.”

—————————————

“How the fuck am I pregnant?! You mutter to yourself and you stare at the 4 tests on your bathroom counter. How were you gna tell EZ? Your uncle? Your father? You never thought about having kids... this wasn’t part of the plan.

Summer was almost over and you were almost ready to head back home. This wasn’t supposed to happen. What if you didn’t tell anyone and just went home? What EZ didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. But you recalled the story he told you about Emily. Fuck. You can’t do that to him. He deserves to know. Shit. Shit shit shit. You get in the car and head to the clubhouse.

You pull in and everyone is sitting outside. “Hey mija” Bishop greets you. “Is everything okay? You look upset.”

“Yeah I’m fine, just came by to hang out. I have a day off finally. I’m gonna head inside and grab a water. Be back.”

You pass EZ and motion for him to go inside with you and he follows. “What’s wrong? You okay?”

“Um.. I.. just need to talk to you about something. But don’t freak out..”

EZ leaned against the bar as you sat on one of the stools.

You were choking on your words, unable to speak, when you finally blurted it out. “I’m pregnant, Ezekiel. It’s yours. And before you say anything, I don’t want or need anything from you, I’m not asking you for anything. I just-you deserved to know. I’m going home in a couple weeks anyway but I wanted to tell you before I left. I haven’t decided what I want to do and-"

“Wait stop, slow down. You’re pregnant? With my kid? Wait and you’re still going to leave ?” His voice slowly getting louder, “ You haven’t decided what you want to do? Do I get a say in this? Do I get to be part of the decision making process?”

“EZ lower your voice” you warn.

“No, screw That. Let them hear. Don’t go home. Easy. Decision made. Shit Y/N. it’s my kid.”

“EZ we can’t have a kid we aren’t even together. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Remember? Off limits.”

“Okay but I don’t care about that now, that’s out the window. What if I want this kid?”

The door to the clubhouse swings open and Bishop looks back and forth at the both of you. “Everything alright, Y/N?”

“EZ I can’t talk abut this anymore. Not today.” You move past him and head for the door.

“Y/N wait... Y/N!” He called out your name and you were out the door. Everyone watched in silence as EZ kicked over the barstools and leaned forward, his hands resting on the bar.

“What the fuck was that about kid?” Bishop came up behind EZ.

EZ stared forward, tears forming in his eyes. “Y/N... she’s... she’s pregnant.. with my kid.” He looks at Bishop. “I’m sorry Bish.”

—————————————————

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @briannab1234 @gemini0410 @ifoundmyhappythought t @briana-mishell24 @blackmissfrizzle @carlaangel86 @woahitslucyylu @marvelmaree @thickemadame @wrcn9fvlcver @sweetcannolicarisi @jadert15 @toni9

[taehyungsgrowl]

Awwww I love my tells!! Anyways. Write some absolutely raunchy filthy werewolf duncan breeding kink shit. You are so good at soft and feelings and making me weep. I wanna see you try something brash (like that dark Jim you did that makes me die? Yeah those vibes)

A/N: Hello 🌽I know you sent this a while ago, but I finally finished it. I hope you like it as much as you liked the Jim one! I think this is my first time writing werewolf!smut so I hope it’s not completely terrible. ILYSM. 

Warning: smut, breeding kink

--

Frustrated didn’t even begin to describe how Duncan was feeling. He could sense it in his bones, in his blood, in his being that the full moon was near. He was set off by littlest things that he thought it would be in everyones best interest if he just took the week off from work. 

He groaned in the dark room, glancing over at the clock on his bedside table - 5:23 am. 

Fuck, he thought. He felt too hot, too cold, too uncomfortable. A thin sheen of sweat formed in between his brows. He knew what he wanted. What he needed. 

He looked over at Y/N who was peacefully sleeping besides him. She was always what he wanted; whether he was in this phase or not. The slight pout of her lips, the dips and curves of her body, her smell. All of it was driving him lunatic. Part of him knew he couldn’t wake her for this. But other part of him wanted to tear apart her little shorts and bury himself inside her. 

She stirred and turned in her sleep, mumbling out little incoherent moans. 

Duncan felt like he was being tested by having to listen to her airy sighs while in this condition. He tossed the sheets off his body allowing the cool air to hit his chest. His leaking cock was strained against his tight gray boxer-briefs. Duncan let out a shaky breath, as he ran his hand down his torso, slowly dragging it down his tummy. A hot shudder ran down his spine and he felt something inside him rumbling. 

He wasted no time palming over his erection - he slipped his hand into his underwear and began to tug at his length. He tried to stifle his groans as his hips bucked into his palm. His blood ran hot, relishing in the way he squeezed and tugged at his palm, but it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t get where he needed. 

Duncan was in need of her wet walls hugging around his cock. He needed his seed to be deep inside her cunt. Flashes of the way she would wrap around him flooded his mind, making his let go of his cock in annoyance. 

He took another look at his restful Y/N. How blissfully unaware she was of his current dilemma. Duncan climbed out of bed and trotted to their shared master bathroom. Turning on the cold water all the way on, he stripped down to nothing and stepped into the marble walk-in. 

The cold water hit his skin soothingly. He stayed in the water for longer than really necessary. The coolness stung his skin deliciously, making his thought begin to clear. His dark hair began to curl under the shower head. He covered his face with his hands, shaking away the impulses that have been building. Or so he tried. 

By the time he got out of the bathroom, she was already up for the day. He dried himself up and got dressed. Since he was staying home all day, he opted for a pair of black joggers and white t-shirt. 

Walking into the kitchen, he found her sitting at the table, typing away on her computer, coffee mug at her side. Duncan wasn’t sure if it was the heat he was in, or the clothes she wore, but he wanted nothing more than to tear her out of it and devour her. Her white low cut top amplified the way her breast looked, her nipples poking through the thin material. 

“Hey, babe.” she smiled easily. She stood up from her seat to greet him with a kiss. As soon as she was close enough, he pulled her in from the small of her back and crashed his lips to hers feverishly. She giggled against his lips at her eagerness, “Morning to you too,” she teased. 

“Here let me get you some coffee,” she slipped out of his hold. 

He took a seat, resting his chin on his hand, “Couldn’t sleep last night,” he yawned. Y/N stretched her arms over her head to reach a mug from the top shelf. Her shirt rode up her tummy, exposing her midriff. Duncan’s gaze was fixated on her. His eyes wandered down her chest, her waist, landing on her ass. He licked his lips wolfishly as he was in a trance by her body. 

“Hello? Earth to Duncan?” she waved her hand in front of his eyes. 

He didn’t think he could feel much hotter, but nonetheless, he felt heat rush to his face. 

“Sorry, baby. You know what the cycle does to me.” he mumbled, pushing the mug of coffee she had brought away. 

“Oh,” it was her turn to blush now. “Duncan,” she shook her head, “Why are you just now telling me?” she shook her head at her boyfriend. Y/N knew what to expect from Duncan before he turned. 

She placed her hand over his for comfort, but it sent an electric shock through his body. He grabbed her wrist forcefully with one of his hands. “I’ve been so patient, baby. But these urges. Fuck. I need you.” 

Y/N nodded to whatever it was he needed, “Please, Duncan. Anything. I’m all yours.”

Those little magic words. She was his and they both knew it. He wanted nothing more than to mark her as his. Make her be his. He wanted his name chanted from her lips. 

He stood up, feeling a bubbling sensation in his stomach, “All mine.” he pulled her up and took her to their room. 

Duncan roughly tossed her on the bed, making her bounce lightly as she hit the mattress. He kicked off his pants and shirt before hovering above her. He rutted his hips into hers, making her feel his painfully hard erection against her. 

“You know I love you, right?” he asked as he began to mark up her neck with love bites. 

“Yes,” she sighed, exposing more of her neck to him. She loved this side of Duncan. Seeing a calculated man, turn to animalistic; acting on his impulses and urges for her made her panties pool with arousal.

“Good,” he crashed his lips to hers, “Because I’m about to fuck you like a don’t” he sank his teeth into her bottom lip, pulling it back to make her whimper. 

“Please, Duncan. Use me.” she begged, her voice shaky, her thought clouded by his large hands ripping apart her clothes. 

In an impassioned rush, Duncan freed them of their clothes. He aligned his aching cock with her wet cunt, letting his head graze over her folds, slicking himself with her wetness. 

“Hm,” he rasped out, “So fucking wet for me.” he held down her hip with his left hand and slammed down inside her. 

She gasped as he stretched her open. She felt his girthy cock pulsing within her. Duncan drilled inside her until he was hip to hip with her; she engulfed his entire length. 

Finally feeling what he needed, Duncan stayed inside her, not daring to move an inch, letting her adjust to the size for a minute. Y/N’s mind was dizzy.

“Your little cunt takes me so well,” he sloppily kissed the words into her mouth. “You were made to have me inside you.” 

Duncan lifted his hips and hissed at the cool air hitting his wet shaft as it came out of her pussy. 

He began to rapidly pump in and out of her. He let his instincts take over as he fucked her into the mattress. The airy moans she had made in her sleep were now freely falling from her lips. “Duncan, Duncan, Duncan,” she whined. She attempted to bite down on her lip to keep from pathetically moaning his name.

Duncan grabbed her right breast, snaking his hand up to be around her throat. “Let me hear you,” he growled, squeezing down on her neck slightly. 

She gasped feeling his hand tighten around her throat. Her pussy clenched around him, throbbing around his hard cock. Duncan began mimicking the way she hugged his member with his hand. He squeezed and released at the same pace her cunt squeezed around him. 

“My perfect little doll.” his thumb pried open her lips. She wrapped her lips around his thumb and sucked on it. She felt her saliva connecting to his finger. 

“Daddy, please.” she begged. At this point. Y/N was unsure of what she was begging for. Her whole body was on fire. Every part of her craved Duncan. 

“Please what?” he slammed down hard, keeping her pinned by his hips, “Please fuck a baby into you?” he rolled his hips. “Is that what you want, Y/N?” he licked a stripe up her neck before biting back on her lip. He noticed his teeth mark, slowly turning them a slight shade of purple. 

“Mhm,” she let out a strangled agreement, the sweat making her hair stick to her face. 

After a few more thrusts of his hips, he let out a white hot release into her pussy. Duncan pressed his hips forward, not wanting an ounce slip out of her. Grabbing her face as her pussy milked his cock for all he had to offer, he slipped his tongue in her mouth, softly running it over hers. As they parted from each other, a trail of saliva followed their parting lips. 

Her arms went around Duncan’s body, grabbing on to his ass and pushing him deeper. Y/N’s legs began shaking; Duncan’s cock stay almost completely still - the only movement coming from Duncan’s heavy breathing. 

Duncan slowly slipped out of her, grabbed himself by the base of his cock and began to rapidly rub her clit with his pink head. She trembled and spazzed underneath him as her orgasm hit. 

**

Duncan cleaned Y/N up, peppering kisses up her thighs as he did. She always did so good for him. His desire to mate had be satiated for now. He peeked up at her from between her thighs, sleepy smile on her face. “Come here,” she whined. He chuckled as he made his way up her body, meeting her with a quick kiss on her lips. 

“Feeling better?” she combed his hair back from his face.

“Much,” he closed his eyes as she softly pet his head. 

“Next time you can - should - wake me up, Duncan.” she scratched at his head lightly.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiled, his lips already attaching to her breasts. 

[starcrossedmyth-lovers-blog]

Young and Beautiful Chapter 8 - Strength

Type: Alternative History (AU)

Background: Ancient Egypt

CP: Zyglavis × Reader

Warning: Mature 

Out of the utter stillness, Zyglavis was first to return from the realms of extreme pleasure. But you remained in a stupor. Your body still collapsed in the pose of abandoned passion when he gently scooped you up and laid you on the bed. He undid the hairband on your wrists, then removed the blindfold as fast as he could. 

Gazing at you with tenderness in his eyes, he gently placed his hand on your cheek but withdrew it as if he’d been burned. It was wet.

"Are you...crying?"

Your lips moved slightly, eyelids fluttered like you were struggling to open your eyes. You looked so drained and exhausted, unable to respond. He immediately held your body in his arms. Only then did he realize that you were trembling. 

"__? Did I hurt you?" He began to panic, hugging you tighter, "Where does it hurt? Tell me, please."

You twitched slightly, letting out a faint moan as if you awoke from a horrible dream. He patted you on the back like a mother hushed her baby. Then you whimpered and started moaning.

"I'm so sore..."  

"I'm sorry, __." He whispered, resting a hand lightly on your stomach. "I shouldn't be so rough. It was my fault." 

His big hand softly fondled your belly while he imagined he could soothe your aching womb this way. The warmth of his hand on your skin was comforting and somehow familiar. You didn’t mind his touch at all, or rather, you liked it. At the same time, conflicting feelings you couldn’t quite put into words poured into your chest. Your eyes were full of tears quickly. 

"Zyglavis...You damn bastard..." You sounded weak, about to break into tears, "I'm Pharaoh, not some camp prostitutes you have bedded! How can you treat me like humble whore who scrambled to your tent!?"

"What? I never—" 

What you said made him stock still. Heat flooded into his face, but you did not give him chance to absorb the sentence. Before he was able to protest you began to sob. Pressed against his radiating body, you continued to weep badly, your whole body was shaking. He held you more tightly, and you suddenly remembered what Huedhaut had told you. 

What if I fail to handle everything and will die without a burial place? What if I disappoint the most important ones in my life and end up being left alone? Helplessness overwhelmed you, and you were feeling frail.

Watching you sobbing your heart out, your small body trembled like a wounded bird flapping its wings feebly, a pain stabbed through his heart, making him feel horrible as if he was a brutal bandit who robbed you of your innocence. 

"__, I'm so sorry I hurt you. I was totally out of control. You can hate me all you want, but I never meant to." 

He continued apologizing and apologizing, whispering in a deep voice, full of guilt and remorse. If you looked up to meet those dark grey eyes, you would probably know how sorry he was. He kept comforting you, letting you sob and weep until the emotions eventually played themselves out. You finally calmed down and stopped crying. 

"It was all my fault. It shouldn't have happened." He drew a breath, saying softly, "Sorry for being too rough. I tried to stop but...failed. I apologize." 

You said nothing, only moaning and sighing. After a while, you slowly wrapped your arms around him. 

"Zyglavis," Eyes still shut, you murmured in a languorous tone, "You’re a bad man. Very, very bad."

He did like the darkness since it could hide his heavy blushes. "Am I?" He paused for a short moment, then asked, "It was good, though, wasn't it? You seemed to like it."

You pressed your forehead flat against his chest, saying in a muffled voice. "Not. at. all."

"Is that so?" A cunning smile appeared on his face. His hand slowly traveled from your stomach to the warm petals between your legs. "But here told me otherwise. It was so hot, wrapping me all around, gripping me so fast and hard that I...Ouch!"

He inhaled sharply when your teeth sank into his chest, right over his left breast. You marked him really hard.

"What a good bite!" He frowned in pain, still smirking. "I'm telling the truth, but why are you mad at me, naughty kitten?"

"With all the damn strength you almost raped me to death! You probably deserve ten thousand times worse than this." You hissed, setting your teeth, "Why were you mad at me?"

"You stood me up last night while lying with some Huedhaut, Your Majesty Miw①. You’d spent a night and a whole day with him! That was against Ma’at②.”

"I don’t know what you are talking about."

"You heard me. I saw you. I saw everything." You felt his muscles tense as he tried to subdue his anger, "Down by the garden, in the bed, in this room. You did have the stamina for such fierce maneuvers."

"Oh no...it couldn't be..." You could barely breathe at the thought of being watched by Zyglavis when...All the blood in your body seemed to start flowing backward to your face. 

"Zyglavis!"  You had never felt so humiliated. The only thing you wanted was to unleash a fury of beats at his chest. "You've been peeing at me. What a perv! Dare you say against Ma'at? You've got some nerve!"

"Please don't yell at me, arrogant miw, you first met a son of nobody and you couldn't wait to take him. You totally forgot about me, leaving me stewing in anger - A full day and night - O Great Osiris!" He said between clenched teeth and squeezed you so hard, the air whooshed out of your lungs. "You moaned under him, over and over again, pretty good right? And when I rapped on the door, just softly, you roared at me, even threatened to have me killed...Shouldn’t I give you a little punishment?"

What he said drove you crazy. "First met? By the gods! Zyglavis, it has been eighteen years since I met Hue! And I might as well tell you - He was the first love of mine - I was twelve then. We were very much deep in love. You wouldn’t know."

He said nothing and you sighed heavily. "Seriously, does a square like you really know what first love is? Have you ever tasted the bittersweet as being in love at a blooming age?”

"When I was twelve, I was fighting against the Nubians in the south, in Karmah and Napata. It was sixteen years ago." He replied soberly.

You were stunned. Even a little child, you heard how cities of Upper Egypt were attacked by the Nubian King and after several bloody battles, only two-thirds of the Egyptian army remained. Zyglavis was just three years older than you. At twelve you had a good education and wonderful life, he only bloodshed.

"That must be horrible..." You murmured, holding him tighter, fingers began to move across his broad back as if this was your way of saying sorry.

"Unlike my adoptive father and so many brothers, I survived. There I found Scorpio, a homeless kid who lost their parents in the war." He smiled wryly, "He was the same age as you."

You found yourself speechless. For the first time, you felt guilty as having been living a carefree life in the royal family. You blinked quickly so you wouldn’t start cry again but failed. You wept in silence. 

“There, there.” He patted you gently on your back. “You needn’t feel sorry. I don’t blame you. This is fate.”

Fate, you couldn’t help but wonder how different it could be. Ptah created the world, his two children gave the principles of life and order, and everyone was born to follow Ma’at through their lives. While some lived in excessive luxury with their figures carved on great temple walls, others died nameless on the battlefields. Was it the goddess of truth's will to turn a blind eye on this? 

Finally, you were able to stop weeping. When you looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears, he could no longer bear not to kiss you sweetly.

“You really are a crybaby, aren’t you?” His eyes full of affection, and he kissed your lips again and again, “Let me bathe you, and you’ll feel better then.”

He carried you right into the bathroom. A lovely floral scent filled the air and you saw the water surface was covered with lotus petals through the steam. So he must put a full bucket of flowers into it. In the glow of the alabaster lamp, you watched Zyglavis stood by the bathtub, the sight of him nonchalantly pulling back his hair entranced you. His skin was suntanned due to the training with soldiers, and the contrast with his muscular body and that loose, shoulder-length black hair was so sexy. 

What perfect body! You marveled at him. It was probably weird to think that about a man, but he was beautiful indeed. 

You kept staring dreamily at him when he quietly joined you in the bath. "Pfft." He flashed you a devilish smile, "This is not the first time you've seen me kiltless. Do you crave for my naked body that much?" 

"Hey...Don’t say stuff like that." 

A hint of pink came over your cheeks which made him wonder that you had such flawless skin so that every shy emotion was revealed on your face. You immediately shift your eyes to the side. He moved quickly to hug you from behind. His skin touched yours in the warm water. You gasped when he started to touch your belly.

"That Tickles!"

"Don't move, naughty miw. I'll wash that little tummy of yours." 

Soon you were totally pressed against each other. "You really are beautiful." He whispered, kissing your neck and back as if trying to devour you. You purred as the feeling of his breath against the nape of your neck paralyzed you. "The sight of you in the light is gorgeous beyond words. Please, let me see more of that smooth skin of yours." 

He continued, slowly pressing one kiss after another to your back as if trying to devour you. You were dripping with pleasure when he started to fondle your breasts and your narrow waist.

"Nghhh...Sooo hard."

"You mean my rough hands?” A shiver of pleasure descended through your spine as he nibbled your ears, "There were calluses. I've been training since I was seven."

"Silly," You tittered, "I mean your erection! It has been sticking to my back. It hurts."

"...Hmph, this is all your fault. And don't make fun of me, I'm suffering to be all hard."

 "Pitiful," You couldn't stop giggling, "Want me to help you out?"

His eyes narrowed, lips formed an evil smile. "How very generous, Your Majesty Miw. I’ll never allow you to take back what you said now."  

"If you continue, I probably won't be able to attend the meeting tomorrow..." You moaned.

"Meetings can wait. I'll handle it." He effortlessly picked you up from the water and carried you back to your bed, "I won't let you sleep until morning."

"Heh."

"And I never allow you to pretend you don't want this." 

You thought Zyglavis would keep you up all night, but he let you off the hook. You fell asleep immediately after really enjoyed the lovemaking with him. 

"I know for certain that you love being like this with me." He whispered, smiling at your lovely sleeping face, "You will always be mine."

You slept very soundly and woke up by different sounds around in the morning. You didn’t want to move your tired bones, only wondering that who were there in your chamber and thinking about how to deal with the busy affairs. You heard Zyglavis, keeping his voice down, arranged everything organized within a short time. This seemed like a piece of cake for a capable general who commanded thousands of armies to win the battles.

Servants were working busily but orderly under his command. There was Helena, demanding in a very low voice, full of worry, “You didn’t do anything terrible to Her Majesty, did you?”

It’d be fun if you were able to witness Zyglavis's reaction, but you were too sleepy, soon out of consciousness. You were having a lucid dream when he started stroking your face in an extremely gentle way. 

“Snoozy miw, time to get up.”

“Nghhh...” You began to stir and grumbled, “There’s a giant Taweret③ standing on my head...”

“Are you not feeling well?” He put a palm to your forehead, you could see the slight frown between his brows and worries in his gaze.

“Not really. Just tired, I guess.” A coyly smile formed on your lips, “You devoured me.”

“Consider that as a sweet punishment.” He grinned, carefully helped you sit up and put a feather pillow behind you.

It was new to find out he could look after people. Without getting off the bed you brushed and washed, then had breakfast in bed. He picked up your favorite food and handed you the bowl. You touched a cushion beside you, indicating that he should sit next to you.

“May I?”

He grabbed his food to join you. It was a wonderful morning, allowing yourselves to give in to the seductive aroma of freshly baked bread and honey roasted pigeon while chatting leisurely with him. You gazed his long, tapering fingers picked some food up and put it in his mouth in fascination. He ate elegantly, like a son of a good family.

"...What are you staring at?" He saw you were watching him and blushed. 

"Nothing, just, you do have good table manners," You smiled, "Neither like Scorpio nor what you were in the night."

He sighed, putting down his food. The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepened and his expression was rather embarrassment. "Be honest, you’re already fed up with me, aren’t you?"   

"What?" The question took you by surprise. That even didn't cross your mind.

"I'm really sorry about last night. I surprised myself." His gaze turned away from you as he blushed even harder. "It's hard to admit, but it would appear that I am actually...quite a jealous man."

"Do you confess? Huh! First, you should on your knees and kiss my feet." Your lips curled into a seductive smile, then burst into laughter. You were on purpose. 

"Well, if you insist."

He was about to set his dish down on a stool by the bed when you reached out to stop him. "I'm just teasing you, don't you see that?" 

"I thought you were serious. How awfully bold, teasing me like that.” He flashed you a devilish grin, "I might be a bad man, but I really cannot stand to see the other man touch you."  

"Unfortunately, Scorpio and Krioff are other men, and they did much more than that." You giggled and flirted, giving him a sly wink.  

"Honestly...You never make it easy on me. The doomed enemy of mine - Of course, we are destined to meet." He moved closer to you, gently caressing your cheek with the back of his right hand.

The word doomed enemy struck you as funny. You tossed you long neck back and laughed hard. "Save your sighing, my dear jealous General, you're going to have to be tolerant of me for a really long time."

"We'll see." There was a dangerous glint in his eyes as he smirked, "Now let's dig in. The food's gonna be cold."

You nodded and took a glimpse at his plate. There was only meat, honey bread, and a few figs. You broke off a piece of the delicately cooked dessert in your bowl. 

“You haven’t eaten this before, have you? Try some.”

“...I cannot eat that strange object.” He frowned.

“It’s pretty good. Here, say ‘Aaah—’” You offered a bite-size to his mouth, so naturally like the way you fed Dui. This time he blushed heavily.

“Guess I have no choices.” He murmured, took one little bite of the date loves. Then his eyes widened. "The taste is quite good!" 

Clearly enjoying the dessert, he requested another bite. You smiled and fed him once more, putting the rest on his plate. 

"It is so creamy and smooth. This is wonderful." He continued eating the date loaves in silence. He must really like it.

"Delicious?" 

"Absolutely. So good that I wish I could eat it every day."

"Bitter man, sweet tooth." You flashed him a smile that sweeter than the date loves. 

"Dare you call me 'bitter'? Pfft..." He was soon aware of your attempts at flirtation and smiled wickedly, placing his thumb over your lips, "A greedy gluttonous miw. You've got a dollop of date cream on your lips."

It's high time, you told yourself. You sucked his thumb into your mouth and lightly bit it, teasing it with your tongue. You made it. He almost dropped the plate as his body quivered.

"I can't believe this..." He sucked in breath, frowned, eyes blazed at you like a wild animal, "Do you ever stop trying to tempt me?"

There's no need to answer. You knew he loved it. He craved the feel of your soft lips and hot wet tongue licking and swirling and sucking. Your eyes met his, lustrous pupils like obsidian pools, so transparent, so innocent, with lustful fire hidden in their depths. It made him hard.

He grabbed a handful of both plates and tossed them on the stool, then threw off your cover as he could wait no more to get rid of his short kilt. In moments you laid naked on the blanket. He swooped down on you, dropping kisses on your forehead, your cheeks, your eyes, your slightly parted lips, wherever his lips happened to fall. He attacked you like crazy with his passionate kisses, on down your throat, your neck, your collarbones, finally your breasts. You whimpered and writhed in his arms, gasping for air.

"You provoked me. You asked for it." His lips curled into a devilish smile, "I'll make you never want to think of the other man. I will wipe him off your mind."

Immediately you realized a punishment was waiting for you. This would not be a simple lovemaking session. It was a battle, a duel between two natural enemies. Through the medium of your body, he was battling you to annihilate every trace of Huedhaut from your memory, and you were meeting head-on him to defend your love.

He entered you while branded every wint(inch) of your skin with visible scarlet signs. You were panting and writhing, uttering soft little cries, with tears in your voice. Your body was lit with desire. You were on fire. But you didn't plead with him to stop. You would never surrender.

His lips brushed the very sensitive spot behind your ear. "Tell me you won't gaze upon him. I'll allow you to come quickly."

With his words, a sizzling heat blazed to your feminine core. You set your teeth, staring at him, "No. way."

“You're hardcore. How impressive! Get this.” Trapped you in his strong arms he started pumping hard, purposely ignored your cries, “I want you to moan louder than ever. Mark me, and mark me well - No one else can make you moan this hard like I do.”

The only thing you could do was to bite your bottom lip to keep from crying out. However, harder and faster his movements became, you were unable to keep silence any longer. He ruled you, mastered your body like a predator tore the throat of its prey. All your weeping, writhing and screaming would not free you from his frenzy of love. Finally, you moaned loud enough to wake Anubis. 

"Now, I ask you—” He slowed down, giving you a little breathing room, “Do you swear you will never lay with that fucking nobody again?” 

You glared at him, panting but defiant, “I swear I’ll forever sleep with Hue.”

“You have one last chance to take that back.”

"Don’t even think about it!'

He started ramming you like crazy. You had nowhere to go but clung to him, burying your face in his chest, whimpering. The battle between you and him seemed to have an obvious outcome. Of course, you would be an inevitable loser, he the victor.    

"Ready to surrender? Good." He looked down at your twisted face of agony, smirking, "I don't have the heart to...Hum? Ow! Oh shit! You!" 

He yelled out when you seized an opportunity to mark him again on the same spot on his chest. Such a golden chance to take revenge. Eyes firmly pressed you bit him, getting him even harder. As sucked on his skin, you inhaled, held your breath, tightening your abdominal and core muscles. He couldn’t help groaning and cursing as he felt the velvet folds of your flesh wrapped him round so tight, gripping him so hard, and forced him to come way too early.

“Oh shit...” He breathed out, hard and fast, looked down at you with unbelievable eyes. “I have no idea...No one’s ever made me come like this. You little shit, this is unforgivable.”

He wanted to punish you again and again for what you’d done to him, by all means, harsh and merciless. But you drifted out of consciousness. Sleep captured you and carried you into the mass of warm mud. 

You had some strange dreams. Some were vivid, but nothing made sense. Some were vague, liked the mists of the past. You dreamed that a man with short hair sat by your head, tenderly caressing your head with his fingers, playing a melody of his touch. A gentle breeze was blowing, and you were waking up to the smell of cyprinum and myrrh. You blinked against the light, frowning a little, "Krioff?"

"It's me."

You pushed yourself up and looked at him. You felt dizzy, your vision still blurred - But it was him. Your eyes welled with tears.

"Dui!" You cried, throwing your arms around him, embracing him in your tiny arms, "You ungrateful little brat! How can you ignore me for two days? Do you know how painful you made my heart—"

"Sorry, __, I'm so sorry." You felt his tears on your cheeks, "You saved me, but I hurt you. I'm such a terrible one."

You leaned back to see his face, then put your finger on his lips. You smiled with tears, slowly shaking your head. "To me, you're always my sweet Dui."

He blushed. When he looked at you with those beautiful brown eyes, your heart skipped a beat. Someone must steal the stars from Nut④ and put them in his pupils. You leaned forward again, reached out to wipe off a teardrop in the corner of his eye. There was a sharp intake of breath. His gaze lingered on your wrists, then drifted to your neck and collarbones and chest. His face changed.

"__," He pressed his lips together, reached over to touch those vivid scarlet marks on your skin, his fingers trembling, "What did they do to you?" 

You averted your gaze, pulling up the linen sheet. It was too late, though, so you just smiled softly. “It’s not a bit deal. They didn’t abuse me. Nobody could. Don’t worry, I’m fine.” 

He watched you with sad eyes. "I heard your voice...I did nothing...My fault."

"Nope." You looked into his face, gently brushing the tears away, "You aren’t mad at me anymore, are you?"

"How could...I broke your heart. You got hurt because of me."

"No one can hurt me." You smiled, leaned into his shoulder and whispered, "Except you."

You made up with Dui and couldn't be happier. He took your hand in his. You sit next to each other, chatting. When he thought about something he paused, stood up and grabbed a bottle from your cosmetics box. He poured some safflower oil into his left palm. After warmed it, he started to massage your neck and chest.

“Dui...” Pale pink painted your cheeks. He was so sweet.

“Shhh—” He stopped you, “Leave it to me.”

His voice was so tender, and his touch was so light as if he was touching the delicate petals with gentle fingers. So you let him. Suddenly he asked, "Does it have to be like this?"

"Not always." You smiled coyly under your long lashes, "It's actually...great."

His fingers moved to your wrists. You heard his calm but sure voice.

"I will protect you."  

That afternoon, golden sunlight slanted through the windows into the chamber, turning everything into gilded bronze. "Let's have some fun." You said. Aigonorus and Tauxolouve arrived at your chamber with the golden harp and his painting tools. 

You leaned against a pile of soft cushions, wearing a short, slightly-curved wig and a simple sheath. An armed chair for Dui on your left, and a stool for Aigonorus on the right. Tauxolouve sat a few steps in front of you, studying the way Dui applied kohl to your eyelids with the very fine tipped brush, observing how he gingerly put every sweep on your eyelids while lifting your face to look at him with his curled fingers underneath your chin. 

The sound of the reed pen working the papyrus disappeared at the moment Aigonorus plucked a string and opened his mouth to sing an ancient melody. He had a delightful and languorous voice which never failed to cast a spell over who heard it, and the song brought you back to the joyful time you grew up with Melunia and Huedhaut. You didn't think about anything. You found the true tranquility.

You spent your time this intoxicating way and it was almost perfect if had not been interrupted by a grumpy Scorpio. He kicked the inner door open and barked, "The hell are you doin'? Stop that filthy crap!" 

Stood behind him was Krioff, looking none too pleased.

"By whose permission did you enter my chamber?" You snapped, apparently annoyed.

"How awful," Tauxolouve winked at you flirtatiously, "Such a shame to take away the incredible beautiful smile from Her Majesty."

"What did you say to me, asshole!?" Scorpio glared at him, growing red with fury, "THIS's how you've been spendin' your days off, with dissolute fellow rakes? Disgusting...you made me sick!"

You rolled your eyes and sneered, then gestured Tauxolouve with impassive eyes. He replied you with a dazzling smile. The next second, he was on his feet in a lithe, almost invisibly fast movement. No one could see how he threw a pointed chisel at Scorpio. You heard a whoosh, and the head of the bronze chisel smashed into the wall behind him, right splintered the clasp of his dangling earring. 

It was dead silence as the large garnet dropped to the floor and broke into pieces. Only the sound of breathing was heard. Your lips curled as they stopped dead in stunned.

"Lou is one of the best shooters in the realm, and almost all your military intelligence depends on the spy network cultivated by Aigo. Who are you calling rakes?"

Reference

① Miw means 'cat'.

② Ma’at represents the ethical and moral principle that every Egyptian citizen was expected to follow throughout their daily lives.

③ Taweret is the goddess of childbirth and fertility and portrayed as a bipedal hippopotamus with limbs like those of a feline.

④ Nut is the goddess of the Sky and Heavens. She's seen as a star-covered nude woman arching over the earth.

⑤ Thank you for reading and Merry Christmas❤

↳ The Whole Chapters  

[snushthings]

Bubbles, Massages, and Proposals.

Paring: Thomas Jefferson x Reader Warning(s): Modern au, mentions of period sex (honestly thomas wouldnt give a shit), Reader suffers period cramps, Fluff, A few swears. Word Count: 1,015 A/N: this is a companion piece to this fic here that i wrote for @scrabblesense

“Fucking hell.” You shouted as you moved from the bathroom and out to the kitchen. Your boyfriend, Thomas, was off in the corner at his desk, typing away at his laptop. “Language.” He scolded you, glancing up at you briefly before returning to his work. You glared at him and opened the fridge. Your shared apartment was rather small, and while Thomas often complained, you weren’t comfortable with the idea of a larger one. Not quite yet.

“Go back to your fucking work, Thomas.” You retorted, opening the fridge and scanning through your options. You had started your cycle, and the cramps had come at you full force. You got little relief from the ache while in bed, and you eventually had to start your day. After a quick trip to the bathroom to change, you did what you always did when your body was punishing you for not having a baby: grab food from the fridge and eat it while bent over the counter. The pressure was nice, and the cool marble was welcomed against your superheated skin.

“Wow, (Y/N). If you wanted to fuck all you gotta do is ask.” Thomas’ voice came from behind you as you took a huge bite of the strawberry you held. Rolling your eyes, you ignored him, dipping what was left of the fruit into the sugar dish. Thomas clicked his tongue and lightly grabbed your hips.

“You’re so hot like this, darlin’. All bent over for me.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, and you turned to glare at him. “I’m not in the mood, Thomas.”

He was a bit taken aback by your sour reply, but he let you go. You scrolled through Facebook while you hogged the strawberries, paying your boyfriend no attention. Thomas whined before going back to his work. Part of you felt bad for ignoring him, but you knew he wouldn’t listen otherwise. You just wanted to be left alone.

You chomped through the entire container of strawberries before you got up. Thomas was still typing away at his laptop; his lovely curls had been tied back by a ponytail, and you smiled a little. He looked like Laf when he wore his hair like that. With a grunt, you got up. Immediately, you wanted to return to your former position, but you ignored the pain and went over to your boyfriend.

“I’m sorry, baby...” You mused, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Thomas chuckled a little, turning to face you. “It’s alright, darlin’. I know you aint feelin’ the best since you’ve got cramps. I just wanted to make you smile.”

You hummed a little and pulled on his sleeve, asking him to get up and come with you. Thomas saved his progress before folding his laptop closed and rising from his seat. He towered over you, and you smiled.

“Can we take a bubble bath?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your chin on his tummy, looking up at him. Thomas smiled and kissed your forehead. “The tub’s too small for both of us, doll, but I’ll sit with you if you want.” You nodded before taking his hand and pulling him towards your shared bathroom. While you filled the tub with warm water, Thomas gathered the bubble bath and one of your favorite bath bombs. Once everything was ready, you stripped and slipped into the warmth. You weren’t embarrassed to show yourself to Thomas while you bled- he’d long since earned his red wings. Thomas tucked your clothes aside and knelt beside the tub. You pulled your hair up in a loose bun and swirled your fingers through the bubbles.

 “I love you, you know that. Right?” You asked, not meeting Thomas’ eyes. He chuckled and took your hand; kissing your knuckles.

“I know. I love you too, doll.” You smiled, placing a bit of suds on Thomas’ cheek. You briefly got a feel of his well-trimmed stubble and it sent your heart into a soft flutter. It caused pleasurable memories to surface of the many times Thomas’ beard was against your skin. Sinking lower into the water, you exhaled, watching the water bubble with tired eyes. Thomas was silent, but you heard him roll up his sleeve and reach into the water. His hand came to rest on your back, and he began to trace light circles. You hummed, and relaxed as he slipped out of his jacket and began to massage your shoulders. “Fuck...” You felt his thumbs dip between your shoulderblades and you couldn’t help but moan. Thomas knew how to work your sweet spots. “What did I do to deserve you, Thomas?” You couldn’t stop the tears that popped into your (e/c) eyes, and you found it hard to look at him again. Thomas smiled softly, reaching in and pulling you close. Your side was pressed against the tub, but your shoulders brushed against Thomas’ neck as he leaned down to kiss your cheek. 

“Nothin’ babe. I don’t deserve you. You’re a literal goddess, (Y/N).” 

His voice was like smooth honey in your ear, and it made you smile. You turned around so that you could face him. You kissed his nose before reaching out and hugging him. 

“You’re perfect in every way, my love. Don’t ever doubt my love for you.” You felt his hand come up and smooth down your hair, and you almost cried. Damn hormones. 

“Even when I’m fat and bloated like this?” You whispered, and you heard Thomas chuckle. “Even now. I love you, (Y/N) (M/N) Jefferson. Just the way you are.”

You snorted, covering your mouth as you laughed.

“Jefferson? Are you proposing to me, Thomas?” 

Thomas pulled back and looked you fully in the eye. 

“Yes, I am.” 

Tears sprung to your surprised eyes, and Thomas stood. You watched as he left the bathroom and returned with a little black box in hand. He knelt beside the tub again, and took the ring out.

“I was gonna propose on our 5 year anniversary next week, but this felt right....” Thomas sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand before he met your eyes. “Will you marry me, (Y/N)? Become my wife, the mother of my future children?”

“Yes.”

[hold-my-hair-back]

Sick!Karlee, Caretaker!Mark

This isn’t a request, and I’m sorry for not doing a request, but as much as I love guys throwing up, I’m a lady who loves ladies, so I needed to write this for myself. Not to mention, I wanted to see how Mark would deal with taking care of someone else. He’s trying. I know I don’t write about these two often, so if you have questions about the two of them, please feel free to ask. :) As always, they have a history, so expect little mentions of drug abuse here and there. Not a mentioned a lot, though. I love you all, so I just want to make sure you are prepared for that. This will just be a short little one while I work on sick!Jem and another sick!Emmett. You guys love sick!Emmet haha. I have several for him. I would love some prompts for Aiden if you have any. Not that I don’t love Em too. <3

Karlee had certainly not expected to wake up feeling so sick. At first, when she woke up, she hadn’t been able to pinpoint the source of her discomfort, but that quickly changed when her an uncomfortable amount of pressure shot through her entire middle. Mark was next to her, sleeping quietly. Karlee always found it funny how Mark was just as quiet sleeping as he was awake. No snores, no sleepy mumbles, no loud breathing, nothing. Just quietness. Not that she had many opportunities to see him sleep. Karlee always went to bed before Mark and Mark was always up in the morning before her. He got, at most, four hours of sleep at night, and she knew there were many nights he didn’t sleep at all. So, because he was actually managing to get some rest, Karlee made sure to be slow and quiet as she sat up in bed, a hand resting on her stomach.

She sat there for a while, but the churning wasn’t stopping. The digital clock on the nightstand read 4:45 am -- a harsh reminder of how early her belly had woken her up. She hadn’t gone to bed until well after midnight as she and Mark decided to have a night full of intimacy with over an hour of foreplay included. The lack of sleep and exhaustion made the situation just that much more unbearable to Karlee. She was a girl who needed at least seven or eights hours of sleep each night to function and even then a few gallons of coffee in the morning.

Her belly let out a loud gurgle and she put her hand it, looking over at Mark quickly. Mark was a light sleeper and he didn’t need to be woken up because her stomach was upset and being loud. Even worse, air bubbles were building up inside of her abdomen and she had to swallow down burps in order to keep quiet. The air was making her usually flat stomach protrude just slightly, causing an uncomfortable amount of pressure against the tight tank top she was wearing. She had been so gassy lately and she wasn’t sure what the cause of that was. She began to softly rub her aching, churning tummy with her hand using the other one to run a hand through her pink hair. This sucked.

The nausea didn’t subside after a few minutes, in fact, it got worse. The gas did, too. Karlee sighed softly, but the sigh turned into a quiet burp that she didn’t have time to stifle. She looked over her shoulder at Mark as she slowly sat on the edge of the bed. Mark was still asleep, making no noise and showing no signs that his sleep was being disturbed, even as her stomach gurgled loudly. Figuring she would risk it, she released a wet belch into her hand, her eyes glued on Mark the whole time. He remained still, the only sign of sleep being the rise and fall of his back as he breathed silently. More gas bubbled in her upset belly and she belched again, however, this one being unintentionally louder. She watched as Mark rolled over onto his side and she held her breath, praying her burping wouldn’t wake him up. Thankfully, besides the movement, nothing changed and he remained asleep. Figuring it wasn’t worth risking anymore, Karlee slipped out of the bed and made her way across the hall to the bathroom. It was small as she and Mark shared a tiny trailer, but neither of them wanted or needed anything more than what they had. However, in that moment, she wished for a bathroom that would be larger have less of an echo.

Another cramp rolled through her middle and Karlee cradled it before putting her hands on either side of the bathroom sink. She closed the door in a desperate attempt to quiet the noises she knew she was going to make, but still remained aware of the fact she could potentially wake Mark up. The worst part was, he wouldn’t even be mad; he wouldn’t even blame her. If he walked through the door, he would just shrug and say it wasn’t a big deal despite the fact that this was probably the most sleep he had gotten in a week. His insomnia had been getting worse but that remained one of the many things they were both aware of but just never talked about.

A painful cramp brought up a loud, lengthy burp that had her gripping the sink with both hands and pulling her away from her concern for Mark. She didn’t bother to stifle them at this point. She continued to burp, each one wetter and louder than the last. Her stomach was less bloated now that she was releasing the air, but it churned more and more with each hiccup and burp. She was was in the middle of one that was lasting for a good few seconds when a knock on the door startled her. Damn it.

“Just a -- urrrrrrrrrrrp -- second,” she quickly called through the door. A wet, short belch escaped her and she put a hand over her mouth as she tasted acid. “I need to throw up.”

The door opened and Mark stepped in. His red hair was a mess on top of his head, and his green eyes were looking right at her. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. Was he mad? Was he concerned? Confused? Karlee never could tell with him. “Did I wake you?” she asked, pulling herself away from the sink.

Mark just shrugged and ran a hand through his messy hair. “I was going to be awake soon anyway,” he told her.

Karlee looked down, feeling guilty. “I’m -- urp -- sorry.” Karlee pressed a hand to mouth, grimacing at the acidic taste that splashed on her tongue.

Mark just shook his head, uncrossing his arms and taking a step closer. Gently, he turned Karlee around and lowered her to her knees in front of the toilet. Karlee bit her lip as the lid was lifted in front of her and she was staring down into the taunting water. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she admitted softly, resting her elbow on the rim and holding her head up with her hand. She felt Mark brush her hair back out of her face with his gentle hands and smiled softly as he put it up in a ponytail for her. “I’ve been feeling so off lately.”

“For how long?” Mark asked, sitting on the floor beside her. “And what does ‘off’ mean?”

Karlee looked into the toilet bowl, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “For like a week, I guess.” She leaned forward and spit out the saliva that was pooling in her mouth. “It’s hard to explain, Mark.” Mark as always was silent, but Karlee was more than grateful when she felt a large hand on her back. “I just wish it would end,” she continued.

“I’d suggest a doctor, but you know what they say to us whenever we walk through those doors,” Mark pointed out, tucking a small strand of pink hair behind her ear.

Karlee nodded slowly. Yeah, she knew exactly what Mark was talking about. Every problem the two of them had were waved away by doctors because of their history with substance abuse. Upset stomach? Must be because they used heroin. Migraine? Same thing. Hell, Mark had pneumonia a month ago, and at first, they were trying to pass it as withdrawals coming back and then accused him of using again. It was sickening. Especially since it took so much convincing to get him to a doctor in the first place. It was an ‘I’ll sleep it off for a few days and go back to work’ kind of guy. Which was probably how his cold turned into pneumonia in the first place. “Yeah,” she whispered after a while in agreement. She burped again, her stomach lurching visibly with a jolt and she groaned softly.

Mark remained quiet, and Karlee was actually thankful for that. Some liked to be consoled and whispered to, but neither her or Mark were really the type to want that. She knew he was there, and she didn’t need to be told that. Even as he burped up a small mouthful of vomit into the toilet, Mark didn’t react, which is exactly what she needed. Otherwise, she would probably feel embarrassed. A long, painful gag brought up more vomit into the toilet, and she made a mental note to chew better because it was not coming up easily. It was thick and chunky, and she kept choking on it as it rose to her throat. Coughing harshly into the toilet brought up another mouthful that fell into the toilet with a loud plop. “Gross,” she muttered with a shudder.

The toilet was flushed for her, probably to avoid overflowing it as she continued to get sick. The vomit she brought up this time in the now clean water was more liquid than solid, making it easier to get up. Hopefully, that meant this was coming to an end. She just wished she knew what had made her so sick in the first place. The next heave only brought up a trickle of bile and saliva which she wiped away with her hand before spitting into the water.

“Done?” Mark asked, speaking up for the first time as he flushed the toilet again.

Karlee nodded, sniffing back the vomit that had entered her nasal cavity during the more intense bouts. “Yeah,” she answered. Her voice was hoarse and raspy due to the stomach acid, and despite knowing she needed to wait a little while, Karlee stood up and headed for the sink, grabbing her toothbrush. What had been making her sick was bothering her, and halfway through brushing her teeth, she slowly lowered her toothbrush and spit into the sink. She didn’t have the courage to turn around and look Mark in the eyes face-to-face, but she looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was back to leaning against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. Her silent guardian.

“I’m late,” she said after a long moment of hesitation. She spat into the sink again and distracted herself by splashing a handful of cold water into her face.

Mark just shook his head once, his eyebrow furrowing just slightly. “Late? Late for what?”

Karlee hesitated again, biting her lip. Of course he wouldn’t understand. What guy would after being given just that? “Late,” she repeated, looking at him through the mirror like the coward she was. “For my…period.”

“Oh.” The response was stoic and expressionless, and Karlee was confused as to why she hadn’t gotten a bigger response than that. However, Mark’s expression then changed and he repeated himself, this time just a hint of surprise behind his tone. Apparently, it hadn’t clicked until just now.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Pretty late actually and last night when we had sex, I noticed you grabbing my boobs kinda hurt. I didn’t think much of it, and I usually love it when you do that, but they were just so damn tender and now I think I know why.”

Mark’s expression was impossible to read as always and Karlee turned around to face him finally. “Damn it, Mark, for once I actually want you to speak up and say something because I’m terrified.”

Mark took a step closer to Karlee and he uncrossed his arms so he could put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not alone,” he stated simply. Despite the lack of tone and emotion behind it, Karlee knew it was sincere and she pulled him into a hug. She didn’t want Mark to react emotionally because that just wasn’t Mark. She just needed to hear those words and it was like he could read her mind when he did say them.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I know I’m not. I just... needed to hear that.”

“I understand.”

Karlee wasn’t sure how this was going to map out, but at least she knew that she would have this man every step of the way. It made the weight of the situation lighter and she relaxed into his arms. She would be fine. They both would be.