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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years ago

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A/N: If there’s anything I learned from doing this, it’s that vampirerry is an utter WHORE. Good for him!!!! As for myself, I’m done with the semester and my term projects and finals left my singular brain cell fried, so this was a nice way to get back into writing again. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you to the anon that suggested it, this was super fun to do! :D

read you’re someone i just want around here

word count: 6k

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Harry is very attentive when it comes to aftercare with Y/N. The sex they have is often rough and includes toys, degradation, and multiple rounds, so he believes aftercare is non-negotiable. Rough sex can be fun, but if it’s not followed by a lot of communication and post-performance support, it can take a hard emotional toll on a person. Even when intimacy isn’t meant to be inherently sentimental, there has to be a certain level of connection and etiquette surrounding it, or it could end badly for both parties involved. He always checks on her immediately after they finish, simply to gauge her headspace and how her body is responding, and after he’s made sure she’s alright, he goes into his usual routine of skin-to-skin contact and gentle coddling. Reassurance and praise is just as important afterwards as it is during, because it’s good to let a partner know that your appreciation runs deeper than just the physical need felt in the heat of the moment; everyone deserves to feel valued beyond their body.

Harry proceeds to clean Y/N up after every session, because it’s the least he can do since she’s usually the one getting the brunt of the work. He’ll fetch a clean towel dampened under warm water to wipe her clean, or he’ll offer to help give her a bath or a shower— whichever route she prefers. Harry dresses her, and changes the sheets if need be, and tucks her into bed to ensure she’s nice and comfortable. If it’s been a particularly intense session, he’ll go the kitchen and bring back a snack and a drink— a granola bar and a Gatorade, or some chips and her favorite juice, or if she’s feeling especially hungry, he’ll happily go out of his way to prepare her an actual meal— and he insists on feeding it to her bit by bit until she’s come to enough to handle it on her own. If she’s not hungry, he at least brings her a glass of water and urges her to drink it; better to be safe than sorry. After that, more cuddling is the status quo, which normally ends in Y/N falling asleep in his arms, and Harry has absolutely no problem with that at all.

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Harry’s favorite body part of Y/N’s is probably her chest. Yes, he likes it for sexual reasons— obviously— but there are innocent reasons for his fascination, as well. He likes how responsive she gets when he touches her there— how he can get her going just by groping her the way she likes it, or by using his mouth to tongue across her nipples until she’s writhing in pleasure and whining for more. He loves leaving hickies all over her tits, probably more than she likes receiving them. It’s just so fucking hot seeing himself marked all over her, especially when she’s putting on a bra and he can see all of the dark bruises scattered across the cleavage spilling from the undergarment. Filth aside, he also enjoys loving all over her chest. Absentmindedly cupping them while they’re snuggling, nuzzling his head between them while they’re watching television, massaging them under her shirt with his large palms as she sits back against his chest, sipping a glass of wine and chatting away, unwinding after a long day. It’s a form of intimacy; it provides a type of closeness nothing else can.

As for his own favorite body part, it’s a tie between two different areas. He loves his thighs— they’re one of his most prominent features. They’re thick and meaty and sensitive, so they’re the perfect sweet spot to touch when he wants to get riled up. Given his previous response, it can be easily deduced that he likes to get hickies there, as well. The marks look great peeking out from under his briefs (for the short amount of time they last, anyways) and they make a great accessory to the large tigerhead tattoo along his left thigh. It’s artwork, really; a proper Picasso.

His other favorite body part...well, take a lucky guess. It’s likely not that far off— literally, considering it hangs right between his thighs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Harry’s personal preference is cumming inside. He adores feeling the way Y/N tightens around him when he finally orgasms (she’s just so warm and soft and unbelievably tight; it’s like she was made for him), almost as much as he loves seeing her reaction. Her body will immediately start to wriggle and her back will arch as she releases broken little whimpers, clinging to his shoulders with her nails and begging him to fill her until he’s milked his worth. Hearing her ragged breathing and feeling her sweaty chest stutter against his is enough to do him in, but when she goes as far as to gnaw on his ear and whine a soft little, “Want it all, baby. Want you dripping out of me when we’re done.” Well, that’s enough to kill him all over again.

Of course, there are times when Harry likes seeing himself all over her, too. On her outstretched tongue, or smeared across her pretty face and plush lips (she looks particularly cute when it ends up all over her eyelashes), or streaked over the valley of her tits, or pooled at the center of her tummy. If he’d been taking her from behind, then he likes seeing it run down the backs of her thighs, or splattered across the dip of her spine. And if she’d been giving him a handjob, then seeing himself dribbling down her fingers is just as good. Why? Because those fingers usually end up in her mouth, which means he ends up all over her tongue, and so the cycle comes full circle. How poetic.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Did Harry suggest wearing a matching set of a vibrating cock ring and buzzing bullet to do grocery shopping once? Yes. Did he drop three glass jars of peach preserves by accident as a result, causing them to have to book it out of the bread aisle while trying to look as unsuspicious as possible, which failed horribly because they were literally hobbling like a crippled elderly couple? Also yes. Did they end up fucking in a Target fitting room? Definitely.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

A lot of experience. Tons. Immense amounts. Insane amounts. Two hundred years of the same seven continents just means two hundred years worth of sex across every single one. And it gives you plenty of time to find the clitoris, as well as giving you a chance to learn the female anatomy like the back of your hand. That being said, Harry doesn’t doubt he could make Y/N cum with his wrists tied behind his back and a blindfold strapped to his face. In fact, he’s made her cum just by using his thigh, so that in itself is enough credibility to last him several more lifetimes. The toy chest in his closet and the fact that he’s well-endowed are bonuses— he knows more than enough tricks to keep her satisfied with just his tongue. Not to mention his fingers— they’re long for a reason.

F = Favorite position

Funny enough, Harry doesn’t have one. He’s spent so many decades cycling through every possible position in existence, it’s gotten to where he can’t pin-point a preference; all positions are unique, and they each have their own appeal. Reverse cowgirl is nice because he likes watching the way he stretches Y/N open with every plunge of her hips, and it also gives him the luxury of marking his rings across her ass in the process. Regular cowgirl is nice, too— having her chest bouncing in his face is nothing short of a divine miracle, in his opinion. Doggy style is a staple, and there’s always different add-ons he can apply to spice it up; for example, taking her from behind with her wrists tied to her ankles, or bending her over the kitchen counter with her face pressed into the marble, or fucking her against his glass wall with her hands and chest flushed to the cool surface as their breaths fog the floor-to-ceiling window.

Missionary is a tried and true option, and just like it’s prior counterpart, it can be enhanced with a variety of extra tricks. Bondage is a good condiment, against the wall is always a nice touch, spread-eagle never goes wrong, and just having her legs wrapped around his lower back is more than enough. However, he does have two favorite variations of the position. The first is when he mounts her legs onto his shoulders or along the inside of his elbows to open her up more, and then just ramming his hips down at a very specific angle that hits her g-spot just right, pounding her into the bed so hard she tears the sheets off the mattress. The second is a cowgirl-missionary hybrid: he sits back on his heels and uses the steep downward slope created by his thighs as elevation, pulling her ass onto his tilted lap and swinging her legs over either side of his hips. He gropes her waist with his palms and yanks her forward, bouncing her against his cock and watching her completely dismantle as he nudges all the right places with as much speed and force as she deems fit.

And then there’s fucking from the side, but that’s a whole other extensive conversation he doesn’t have time for.

Actually, maybe Harry will entertain it for a minute or so. He usually throws one of Y/N’s legs over his neck to get a deeper range, manhandling her roughly onto her side and yanking her closer to his body by her waist, grasping it with stern vigor and holding her down against the mattress, grunting out a gravelly, strict command along the lines of, “Stay fucking still.” He’ll drill into her at a brutal, consistent pace, staining his fingerprints along the curves of her torso and sponging damp kisses onto her ankle, smirking into her skin as he watches her fist at the duvet in a futile attempt at maintaining her bearings. It’s pretty evident that she can’t, though; the way her eyes lull around their sockets from his harsh stride does a terrible job at hiding her lack of self-control, alongside the fragmented curses she gasps out whenever he nudges her g-spot with the head of his cock.

“Oh, that was such a pretty noise. Did I hit that little spot you like?”

Her response will be begrudging, as always, which he thinks is ridiculously useless considering he can see her burying her face into the pillow to hide how her jaw drops open in sheer rapture. “No.”

“No?” The vampire leans forward, stretching her leg towards the headboard and preening at the garbled squeak that escapes her gritted teeth, plunging deeper as he lowers himself to her level. He knots her hair around his knuckles, tugging sharply until her face is tilted back enough to meet his fiery gaze. “Then why are you starting to shake?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the mood, honestly. There are definitely serious moments, but Harry enjoys the humorous ones just as much. He already adores making Y/N laugh and smile on a regular basis, and that desire only grows when he’s buried between her thighs, simply because she just looks so fucking cute laughing with her hair splayed around the pillows in a messy halo, her sounds of glee stuttering due to how sharply she’s jolting against the bed. He loves feeling her giggle into his mouth as he cracks sarcastic jokes and makes stupid witty comments that break the intensity in the air, especially because she’s usually clever enough to return them with some of her own. Then they both end up snickering like idiots as he tries to keep a solid pace, which eventually tapers to a messy, haphazard stride as their laughter drowns out their goal to the point where he has to take a genuine break to collect himself. There’s tons of examples— how could there not be? Sex is hardly ever perfect, so awkward moments are not only expected, but guaranteed. What better way to handle them than with a bit of humor?

There was an incident once where Harry accidentally knocked their foreheads together so hard, they both bruised (which he responded to with, “I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Cosmopolitan meant when they suggested matching couples tattoos.”). Another time, he got so into the moment he didn’t realize he was jack-hammering the top of her head into the backboard until she brought it to his attention (and made a comment saying it sounded like a sped up version of the beat to We Will Rock You). A bad case of the hiccups. Y/N burping right in his face halfway through his orgasm. A random leg cramp that made him think he was going to need amputation to survive. Accidentally rolling off the bed or couch onto the ground and nearly dislocating both of their spines in the process, getting his cross earring tangled in her hair and nearly ripping off his ear trying to get it out, and the unfortunate collapse of a pillow fort he’d spent over an hour building. He even sneezed in her face once, and when she instinctively went to shove him back, she wound up slamming her palm into his nose so hard he nearly passed out. Nose bleeds aren’t necessarily sexy, per se, but he just dug blindly through her nightstand until he found two new tampons somewhere in that black hole she calls a drawer, shoved them in his nostrils, and kept going. No one can ever accuse him of being unresourceful.

Queefing. Lots and lots of queefing, which he usually starts mimicking with his mouth, and then she responds to that by whining and telling him to cut it out, and then he takes to mocking her whining instead. It normally finishes with them laughing so hard that Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling so big, but it’s a good type of pain. The best type of pain.

H = Hair (how do they groom?)

Harry likes keeping himself neat and orderly, but he doesn’t enjoy going bare, so trimming is his grooming preference. There’s just something so unappealing about a completely smooth dick— it looks like raw chicken and it’s fucking disgusting. He doesn’t have anything against a good bush, but it tends to get unruly and he’d rather not have to overcomplicate his shower routine. And honestly, he can’t trust himself because last time he had a full front yard going, he got shitfaced and tried to braid it on a dare. Keeping the hedges trimmed is the ideal landscaping option, and it just looks way hotter— a uniform dusting of hair is a good accessory and it just makes everything look more cohesive, given that he also fancies keeping his happy trail thick. It’s all about aesthetics, isn’t it?

I = Intimacy (the romantic aspect)

It’s no secret that Harry’s been somewhat detached from intimacy for the last two hundred years or so. Intimacy is reserved for genuine romance, and that’s something he hadn’t entertained since before the lightbulb was invented. But now that he has Y/N, intimacy has crawled its way back out from the deepest recesses of his subconscious, where it had been shoved into a bottomless pit with the rest of his trauma. He likes it— he likes opening up to her in any way he can, because sharing those obsolete parts of himself with someone again is more fulfilling than he ever imagined. He likes kissing her randomly when she’s halfway through a sentence, just to feel her words die off abruptly in her throat as she gives into his gentle gesture, a delicate smile spreading across her satin lips. He likes whispering sweet phrases of encouragement into her hair when they’re tangled amidst sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets, reminding her of how much he cares for her and how beautiful she looks when she’s so far gone and how she makes him feel like his entire body has been set alight. He likes sponging soft pecks across the stretch marks along her thighs and across the dimples on her belly, her skin candy and velvet on his tongue as she releases a watery sigh that lets him know he’s doing all the right things in all the right places. He just likes letting her know she's special to him, in any and every way he can.

Intimacy forges timeless bonds, and he reckons that assumption is unarguable, considering he knows a thing or two about eternity.

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Harry likes to jack off, obviously. Who doesn’t? It’s why he has an entire section of his toy chest dedicated to self-pleasuring tools. Vibrating cock rings, an array of lubes that range from temperature-changing to sensation sensitivity, and a few pocket vags that get the job done whenever Y/N is out of commission (usually because of work). His favorite one is an electronic sleek black model that is made of a premium silicone material and has a variety of massage settings, suction strengths, and internal textures. It’s designed to make the session feel more real, and yes, it was expensive, but self-love is always worth the splurge.

The beauty of living on his own is that he can get off wherever and whenever he wants, without having to stress about someone interrupting an important step in his pampering routine. He usually does it in his room and on his bed, simply because Y/N’s pillow is close by and the experience is heightened when her scent is swimming around his hazy, bliss-drunken mind. If Harry is feeling particularly needy, he’ll ditch the toy all together and just hump one out against the mattress or cushion. If it’s a particularly restless day, he’ll take a toy downstairs and lazily play within himself on the couch while browsing through Netflix. Those instances usually average a few tamer orgasms rather than a single large one, but he’s not complaining; his stamina comes in unapologetic waves that stem from a never-ending supply, and he certainly has the time to kill. If Harry gets the sudden urge in the shower or while he’s relaxing in his jacuzzi, he won’t bother fetching a trinket; he’ll just stroke one out with his hand, using the cool metal of his trusty lionhead ring to tease the tip until he brings himself to orgasm. It turns out daylight crystals have more than one use.

There is one common factor amongst all these different choices, though: Y/N is present in every fantasy. And if the vampire is feeling especially bold, he’ll grab his phone and take a video of whatever he’s doing to himself, and then she’ll have a nice little gift waiting for her once she gets out of the café for the day. That usually leads to him receiving a present in return later that evening, and then he’s dialing her contact before the clip is even done playing, and then what he does during his alone time doesn’t require him being so alone anymore.

K = Kinks

Harry has tons— in fact, he has so many, he can’t really keep track. And he also has the sneaking suspicion that if he were to ever jot all of them down, he’d end up locked in some type of sex addict rehabilitation center. Bondage is a big one, so he’ll start there. He’s great with ropes, given that he learned his way around them ages ago. Chains are nice, but they can be a pain to set up without the right equipment; he’s thinking of getting a reinforced metal hook installed into his ceiling, like the one in his storage closet, which he uses to keep his punching bag secure. Handcuffs, obviously— velvet-lined, straight metal, fuzzy coverings, he’s got it all. Dominance, degradation, Daddy, Sir, choking, brat-taming, spanking, flogging, slapping— impact play in general, to be honest— spitting, wax, praise, begging, masochism, branding (mild stuff, no molten metal shit), collaring, discipline, dirty talk, edging, exhibitionism, face-fucking, face-sitting (with him on the receiving end), giving oral (is that a kink? It is now.) gagging (both the action and using the actual object itself), breeding (he hates that term but that’s the official name, unfortunately), teasing, voyeurism, role play, and… he thinks that’s it. Oh, and blood, but that doesn’t really count for apparent reasons.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Y/N’s couch is sacred, at this point. Their entire relationship started on that lumpy, worn excuse of a sofa, and it’s seen them through their progression from strangers to friends with benefits to lovers to more. It’s comfortable enough, the dark color hides any explicit stains, and the cushions always smell of her signature mixture of honey and lavender combined with Snuggle fabric softener. It’s finicky, but irreplaceable. His kitchen counter is a close second. It’s provided a lot, taken a lot, been through a lot— through a lot of Lysol wipes, to be specific. If it wasn’t marble, it likely would have been reduced to chunks and rubble by now, courtesy of his enhanced strength gripping the edges as he slams her against the smooth surface. The backseat of his Cadillac is consecrated, as well; there’s just so much erotic appeal to fucking in a car with rock music blaring in the background, muffling the obscene sounds of bodies connecting and a mixture of fever-pitch moans. The couch, the counter, and the Cadillac— the Unholy Trinity.

The jacuzzi is nice, too, but for the sake of his clever little “c” alliteration, he’ll leave that one as an implied token.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As much as Harry claims he likes full submission in bed, he can’t deny that he loves being challenged. Delivering punishment and coaxing out an orgasm is so much more satisfying when he has to fight for it; it’s so fucking hot watching his girlfriend try to best him in a power struggle, especially when she finally— and undeniably, since he always wins— caves under his will and winds up begging him for what he otherwise would have gifted her freely. That’s where the brat-taming kink comes into play. He likes it when she mouths off and makes snarky digs, and he enjoys it even more when he tries to set her in place and she amps her disobedience as a result. There’s nothing more attractive than a battle of wits with someone who is a perfect match in every way. And when she channels her attitude into physical gestures, it riles him up beyond compare. For example, when she smirks and rolls her eyes, despite the fact that there’s trails of tears staining her cheeks and mascara smeared all over her waterline? Christ, he could go feral.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No feet, no feces, no beastiality. There’s probably more, but those are the ones off the top of his head.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving oral is great— he highly recommends it, solid ten out of ten— but giving it is so much better. Harry’s always been a giver, even when he was young and barely knew his way around a woman’s undergarments. The stereotypical expectation for a person who is beginning to explore their sexuality is that everything they do, they do for their own gain. It’s a selfish realization, yes, but it’s a primal type of selfishness that no one can truly be blamed for. It’s a simple concept: when you start having sex, you want as much personal benefit as possible. It’s only natural. But from the second Harry became sexually active, he came to find that providing release to his partner outweighed the bliss he could get from letting them pleasure him instead. It’s not direct pleasure, but rather cognitive, which more often than not translates itself physically. And when it comes to Y/N, that euphoria manifests tenfold.

Nothing compares to having his face buried between her legs as she tugs and yanks at his hair desperately, her chest heaving and jaw falling open as he uses his tongue to unravel her from the inside out. Spitting sloppily onto her folds and hearing the raw gasp of aroused shock that escapes her sore throat, which causes his swollen lips to spread into a dirty grin as he latches onto the sensitive bud at the thick of her core, fiddling with it until her legs are trembling uncontrollably around his sturdy shoulders. Watching her features go slack as he bobs his neck fervently between her thighs, swiping the bridge of his nose across her clit over and over until the entire bottom half of his face is drenched in her excitement. Fucking his tongue into her and feeling her buck against his jaw as she holds him in place with her fingers tangled in his curls, whimpering his name repeatedly in a voice so shattered, he could probably build a mosaic with the fractures. Feeling her drip down his chin and into the collar of his shirt, savoring how sweet she tastes as he pins her hips down against the bed and groans feverishly into her cunt, his ego idolizing the image of her so disheveled under his influence.

A measly blowjob is hardly any competition to that. Harry could very well cum just from eating Y/N out. In fact, he has, and that in itself is all the proof he needs.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This is one of those other factors that depends on the mood. If Harry has been waiting all day for it, his impatience bleeds into his rhythm, which means he settles for fast and hard. It means he settles for bending her over the back of his couch with one palm around her throat and his other fingers in her mouth, pounding into her with so much force, the sofa starts shifting across the ground. If Y/N has been teasing him endlessly for a decent amount of time, it’ll be rough and deep, but not fast; he’ll drag it out for as long as possible, just to make her regret acting like such a spoiled brat. That’s when he brings out the paddle, or the crop, or just manhandles her across his lap and spanks her until she’s apologizing profusely through her whines. If he’s in a soft, romantic headspace, it’ll be slow and sensual, with lots of gentle caresses, giggly kisses dusted across eager lips and droopy eyelids, and penetrating strokes that make his toes curl and tummy clench.

Pace is relative, but the message behind it is all the same: I want you more than anything, and I’m going to show you just how deeply I mean it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are fun, Harry will admit. They’re filthy and messy, and they show just how far gone two people are for each other to the point where they can’t wait to feel one another at a later time; that they need to be together now, or they’ll go absolutely insane. Quickies are saved for when the urge strikes at random times. For when he’s out with Y/N at a park, sitting under the shade with his head in her lap as she combs his curls out of his eyes and thumbs over his chin affectionately, and the sun filters through the tree canopy just right to where it illuminates her lashes and the suppleness of her cheeks in a manner he deems ethereal. For when they’re at the mall, walking hand in hand and licking at ice cream cones as they survey the shops, and she reaches over to wipe a bit of Rocky Road off the corner of his mouth, replacing the stain with a soft stipple of her lips instead. For when they’re out eating dinner and playing footsie under the table like immature teenagers, and she’s trying to steal a French fry from his plate but he keeps fighting her off with his fork because, “I told you to order your own, but you wanted those disgusting potato skins instead!” And she’s laughing so brightly and unapologetically, giving him a look that so obviously tells him she can’t wait to get him alone, and nothing seems quite as flawless as that fraction in time, then and there and nowhere else.

These simple but memorable moments cause him to get love boners, which he jokingly refers to as “sniffy stiffies,” where “sniffy” has to do with being sentimental, and “stiffy”...well, that one is pretty self-explanatory, no? It always ends with them shagging in the car, or in the family bathroom of a diner, and in the case of the park, in an obscure area of the forest that lines the jogging trail.

Quickies are just that— fast, but meaningful nonetheless, because they come from a place of genuine emotion. They’re fleeting, but unforgettable. Sniffy stiffy quickies, if you will.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Taking risks is the norm in Harry’s life, especially when it comes to his sex habits. He’s proven time and time again that he has no problem riding along the seams of a dare and just barely making it out unscathed, so experimenting outside of the bedroom is just another day in the life. Fingering Y/N in a music room in an antique shop, getting road head during a two hour drive back to Los Angeles, ripping his girlfriend’s panties out from beneath her dress at one of California’s most prestigious restaurants— the list is endless, really. Harry likes to think he has a gift for coming up with inspirational quotes on the spot, so he’ll lend his expertise here and now: “A life without risks is a life that isn’t worth shit.” It even rhymes, so he knows sorority pledges will have a ball putting it in their Instagram bios. A bit of charity work for the bird-brained.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Endless stamina. Literally. Vampires don’t stay tired for long, so he could be ready to go again within seconds. And he can last long, as well; his stubbornness and pride depend on it, and he likes making his partner cum first as an ego boost. He can go as many rounds as Y/N can and more, though he won’t push it. He doesn’t want her to end up in the ER with a bruised cervix.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Harry could run a sex shop from his closet; Y/N doesn’t take the piss by calling him “Fifty Shades” for no reason. He uses them on himself, he uses them on her, and he got high once and tried to sword fight Y/N with a dildo, so it’s safe to say he definitely uses them quite a bit. If his Lovesense Lush 3 vibrator could talk, he’d be drawn and quartered for excessive debauchery.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Harry loves teasing, that’s no mystery. Winding people up is one of his most practiced skills, so of course that would channel into his intimate life. He’s mastered it, though it’s not like it’s hard. A drawn out blink here, or a feathery touch there. An inch of space between his and Y/N’s lips to establish some tension, or squeezing her inner thigh with his palm hard enough to draw a tiny squeak from her chest. Touching her through her clothes, or leaving a trail of wet kisses down her throat and stopping right at her cleavage. Biting the sensitive skin along the inside of her knee, or dragging the tip of his cold nose down the center of her twitching tummy. Lapping slowly at her nipples until they perk up, or sinking a single long digit inside her and keeping it there just to feel her clench around it needily. And once he gets a pattern going, teasing molds into edging, edging molds into begging, begging molds into praise, and before he knows it, he’s hit four of his kinks with one roll of the dice.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Harry is very vocal in bed, and he’s not ashamed of it. He knows for a fact that Y/N loves it, and if him being loud gets her worked up, then he’ll let his throat go out in the process. He’s noticed that in different situations, he has an arsenal of sounds for each. If he’s being rough and dominant, he tends to groan, grunt, and growl. If he’s being desperate and needy, he turns to whines and whimpers to communicate how he feels. If he’s too zoned into the moment to distinguish all his emotions, broken moans and stuttered mewls are his default. No matter the circumstance, they all take the same route: they start low and soft, and escalate in volume proportional to the intensity of the moment. So what if half the building is hearing him orgasm for the third time as he mocks his girlfriends sobbing pleads and calls her his “dirty fucking whore”? Let’s be honest, it’s probably the highlight of their week. He has a great voice— a sultry, deep baritone that compliments his English accent nicely— and anyone would be lucky to hear it spew the filth it does. He’s yet to get many complaints, so he doesn’t intend on stopping.

W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

An honesty hour moment seems interesting, so he’ll confess a few tales from his past. The first time Harry ever went down on a girl, it was against a tree in a garden and he nearly asphyxiated under all the layers of her gown. A couple of years later, he ended up getting oral from a reverend’s daughter against a tree, too, for the morbid irony and associated religious revenge. And to drive the point home, oral was only the beginning of what she gave him. His first decade as a vampire was definitely his pettiest.

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s not uncommon knowledge that Harry’s well-endowed. He remembers how insecure he was the first time he had sex— a shocker, he knows; he was insecure?— and how he knew barely anything regarding sizing and how to use his assets accordingly. But it’s been ages since then, and now he definitely knows his way around his own body (let alone his partner’s), and he most certainly knows that he’s above average not only as a person in general, but when it comes to what’s in his trousers, as well. Harry won’t specify inches— he loves how speculation drives others mad— but it was big enough to give Y/N a decent pause the first time she pulled down his pants, and it’s big enough to leave her absolutely fucked every single time, without a single miss. If that’s not credibility at its finest, then he doesn’t know what is.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Harry’s sex drive is insatiable, to say the least. His vampirism combined with his narcissistic tendencies makes the ideal cocktail— cocktail— for the constant fuse that’s always burning under his skin. He’s ready to go at all times; Y/N just has to say the word and he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he grabs his keys, hopping down his complex’s corridor toward the elevator on one foot as he tries to get his last shoe on the other. Lazy morning sex is probably his favorite; he’s come to find it’s when he’s most pent up, usually after a sleepless night of feeling Y/N’s body heat radiating through all of his cold limbs. It also sets a great tone for the rest of the day, and he just loves seeing Y/N wake up to him lying on his side with his temple resting on his fist, his elbow propped against the mattress as he poses the other on his hip in a theatrical diva stance. He’ll smile at her giddily with all his pearly teeth, dimples twitching as his lashes flutter dramatically, dirty intentions written clear all over his face (“Good morning, hon—” “Wanna have sex?” “Harry, it’s ten in the morning.” “Is that a yes? Because it’s not a no.” “I haven’t even brushed my teeth!” “That’s fine, I’m gonna stick my dick in there anyways.”)

All in all, his libido is insane, and he’s lucky that Y/N’s is up to par or else he would have worked her into an exhaustion-induced coma by now.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Harry just...doesn't. Maybe once every few weeks, but definitely more often now than before he had his girlfriend. Sleeping just comes way easier when he has someone he cares about resting beside him, their inherent warmth thawing the stiffness from his muscles and putting his racing mind at ease. He feels safe enough around Y/N to let his guard down— both literally and metaphorically— and that seems to help with his supernatural insomnia; it sedates that nocturnal hyper-instinct in his brain that demands he be aware at all times, muffling the animalistic part of him that has been manning the reins for the better half of the last two hundred years. He doesn’t need to be so on edge anymore when everything he needs is just an arm-length away. Especially when she’s usually willing to lend her chest as a pillow, and who is he to neglect her wishes.

#ysijwa #harry styles smut #vampire!harry #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x oc #harry styles x you #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles mature #harry styles dirty fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction

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asexual-means-no-attraction · 2 years ago

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How did you come to the conclusion that you were trans and that transition would be right for you? If you don't want to tell it publicly I understand

Buckle up for a long post lol.

Long story short:

It was a long process involving lots of body image issues, research, and ignoring the problem to even accept the idea. And then even longer to decide what was right for me with transitioning.

Long story long:

As a kid I had a whole temper tantrum about wanting to be a boy. This isn't unusual even with cis kids. My parents got me ice cream and told me I can do anything a boy can (tho they were at a loss when I talked about being able to pee standing up). As a little kid I didn't have the words or mental ability to explain what it was I was experiencing. I just knew I wanted to be a boy. But without having a good reason I decided I was ok being a girl.

That was that for a long time. I just put the idea to the back of my head and ignored it. From there it was just a series of body image issues. Which again, isn't rare for cis people. Especially young girls.

I was very much a tomboy growing up. It's not that I didn't like girly stuff, cuz I did. But it always made me uncomfortable in a way I couldn't explain. It took a lot of effort to wear the pretty pink dress that I liked. Cuz I did like it. I love flowing dresses and clothes with big flowers. I love how certain styles of clothes fit on people's bodies. It's just so nice to look at and wear. But if I saw a mirror or looked down at myself I got spiked anxiety. I hated it. I didn't want to be there anymore. I wanted to take it off. I couldn't do it.

But when I wore clothes that covered me completely I was fine. I enjoyed boys clothes because they didn't have weird cuts and the T-shirts had big designs that didn't lay directly on my chest. I was big into girl scouts so I was rolling around in the dirt every other weekend.

With kid TV shows always showing the tomboy secretly liking girly things and being self conscious about it, I figured that was what I was experiencing. It's very easy and common to think dysphoria is literally anything else, especially body dysmorphia or body imagine issues in general.

I left it at that all throughout puberty. I hated my chest, but then again, I thought it was just my body image issues. And wearing a bigger shirt made me feel comfortable. I was able to go to school and make friends. I was happy and enjoyed myself. I was comfortable with the discomfort I had towards my body. And so I ignored it. And I ignored it. And I ignored it.

At the end of high school I finally had to address one of the problems I had. Ie. My sexuality. My dysphoria (unknown at the time) made me believe I was asexual. The idea of dating was very off putting. I didn't like being called 'girlfriend' and thinking of kissing someone made me wanna vomit. But by the end of high school my feelings towards 2 specific friends was stronger than my aversion. And after a lot of writing out my feelings through random characters I made up I figured out that what I felt was indeed attraction. I still didn't like the idea of kissing, but the idea of dating was nice. So I started id-ing as a lesbian and went on with my life.

Come college I participated in a drag show my freshman year. One of my roommates did some makeup to give me a beard and I already had a suit. The entire night people called me by my now legal name, and called me a man. I wasn't able to explain it then either, but the feeling I had that night was incredible. It wasn't just a "haha this is fun being called male." It was like I was finally myself. I was more comfortable in my body than I ever had been before. The only thing that changed was how people perceived me.

After that I couldn't stop thinking about it. Thoughts that I had previously ignored were now crowding the front of my mind. For a year I was silently obsessing over that night. I did research about drag and it wasn't until about 6 months after the drag show that I even considered being trans. Because I always thought I was comfortable being female. I had never experienced being male before, so there was no way for me to compare the two.

A good comparison: imagine you're on a train going through a tunnel. You're fine in the tunnel. You have nothing to complain about. You're content. But then you exit the tunnel and you see an amazing view. You didn't think that a view like this was possible. You were fine just being in the tunnel your whole trip but now you don't want to ever go back into the tunnel.

^^^ now you gotta be careful with comparisons but they can be helpful. And I think that one gets the idea of how I was feeling across.

I was content as a girl, but once I experienced being male I didn't want to go back. My body image issues got worse every single day. It was harder to ignore them. I finally decided to buy a binder and cut my hair. I still didn't think I was trans. But I thought it might help. And just hearing a few friends say they thought I was a boy from behind, or being called sir on accident by people was a joy. Even if they corrected themselves afterwards it was still nice. I felt, for a moment, like I was seen.

I ended up making a blog on Tumblr (not this one) where I typed out my feelings. I have a lot of side blogs and a few are for different emotions (a blog for when I'm happy vs sad for example). I ended up typing a lot of extremely depressing shit on that blog. Not quite suicidal stuff but boarder line. Like I said. My body imagine issues were still getting worse and this along with several friendships falling apart (including one with one of the girls I had a severe crush on) caused a bit of a depression spiral. I was feeling terrible.

On that blog I also talked about possibly being trans. I actually used a cake reference (cringe I know). I don't remember the exact wording but the idea was that I like vanilla cake but I love chocolate cake more. I'd be ok eating vanilla but I'd always choose chocolate over vanilla. The idea being that I was ok being a girl (I wasn't. I was just used to being uncomfortable) but I'd prefer to be a boy.

Looking back, a lot of what I said definitely pointed at being trans. I just had a hard time accepting it. By chance, one of my friends (now gf) found my blog. It was a complete coincidence. After scrolling through it she realized that it was weirdly familiar until she got to a post were I actually had a photo of me in a binder. Even though I didn't have my face in the photo she was able to recognize me and my dorm bathroom. The shit I had on that blog was depressing and extremely concerning. And naturally, she flipped.

I woke up at 5am to her crying about how she doesn't want to make me eat vanilla cake and asking if I'm ok. She was extremely supportive but very worried. She was in the middle of researching trans stats and just read about the high risk of suicide. We've known each other since we were 12 and she felt bad for not noticing anything.

After a long cry fest from both of us I finally opened up to someone about how I was feeling. I also finally started accepting the idea that I was in fact trans. After that I slowly started coming out to more people. I started seeing a therapist. And after another few months talked to my Dr about how transitioning worked.

I got a referral to a specific LGBT department. They got me an appointment, though I had to wait a few more months. At first I thought all I would want was top surgery. I've always hated my chest so I thought that even if I realized I wasn't trans, this is something that I wouldn't regret.

I was nervous about hrt because I was already so sweaty and hairy. And I genuinely hated shaving. I didn't want to shave my face. I just wasn't sure how much of those changes I actually wanted. But the more I thought about it, the more I actually did like the idea. It was more so that I was so comfortable being uncomfortable in my body that it was hard to imagine what WOULD make me comfortable.

About a year and a half after I officially came out I started hrt. I decided to hold off for another year for top surgery since I couldn't afford it at the time. And I found that I actually did enjoy shaving my face. And I liked how much more hair I got. I didn't like the sweat or my hair thinning. But I was very happy with everything. Plus I finally started to realize I did in fact like kissing lol. Imagining myself as a girl with people wasn't appealing. But seeing myself as a man was actually enjoyable. Dysphoria be a bitch lol.

I got top surgery a few months before I graduated college. And a few months after graduation I got my name changed legally. Still working on everything else.

So technically I guess, I realized I was trans through slowly discovering myself and learning to process my feelings. There wasn't a sudden "I'm 100% sure" moment. I took it slow and figured myself out. And now that I have medically transitioned I am significantly happier and more comfortable in my body. I wasn't sure if I would ever feel this way. And I never knew I could feel this way. But the night I felt like I was actually myself at that drag show is nothing compared to how I feel now. Things got a lot better. Not just because I transitioned but also because while I was processing and accepting myself, I also worked on setting better boundaries, being more on tune with my feelings, and trying to be a better person overall. All that combined has made me happier than I ever knew possible.

Tips:

Each step in your journey is yours to take. It's ok to wait. It's ok to rush. It's your decision. Let yourself make a choice at your own pace. What worked for me might not work for you. We're all different. But if what I wrote above feels familiar, take that as a chance to explore. You don't have to be 100% sure to test the waters.

Talking with someone helps more than you'll ever realize.

Remember that you don't have to know everything right now. Nor do you need to focus on it 24/7. It's ok to take a break or focus on other parts of yourself.

I hope that's the kinda thing you were looking for. If not, feel free to send another ask.

#Long post #Personal #Trans story #Ask #answered

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thesevro · 4 years ago

Text

be the boss / toji f.

𝖙𝖔𝖏𝖎 𝖋𝖚𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖗𝖔 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖒𝖚𝖙

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 2.1K words

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: who you gonna call when you be feeling horny? TOJI FUSHIGURO!

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: calling toji daddy, phone sex, face-fucking

TOJI STARES AT his phone screen with a laughing gleam in his eyes.

"You know exactly what you're doing, don't you?" he breathes out as you angle your phone to give him a better view of the special, personal show.

"If it can get you over here," you murmur, "Then I'll just keep doing it."

Your hand plays at the gleaming hem of red silk that hugs your figure. It's loose around your legs. The darkness of your room leaves much to Toji's... wild imagination. His eyes stray from the hand that slides between your open legs to focus on your face. He grunts as your brows furrow and your mouth falls open in a soft moan.

"You thinking of my hand between your thighs?" He chuckles, in a slight daze as you whine, pulling the edge of your dress up further to finger your own pussy. "Thinking of my fingers in your cunt, baby?"

You sigh, parting your legs wider to bare yourself to the camera. Toji aches in his pants as you pull your panties to the side to put your wet slit on display.

Caught in four fucking k.

He giddily takes a screen-shot of your fingers inside your hole. His hand slips beneath his pants to palm himself from his boxers. Horny has never felt this hot. And he's never been this hard.

On your back, you look like a fallen angel. Like Lucifer's bad, naughty sister. The phone seems to sit right between your feet, giving him a good view of the wet, swollen folds of pussy. But the room you touch yourself in is dark, and he can just barely see the way your hole convulses around your fingers.

Your back arches from the mattress you lie on as your fingers find your clit. Toji tenses, breathing labored, hunched over his phone with the screen only inches from his face. You have him mesmerized. He swallows. Imagines your cum sliding down his throat.

When you stammer his name, crying softly in pleasure as you near your high, Toji grins with jaded confidence. He can see you losing your mind to pleasure. To need. To the thought of his fingers inside you, and not yours.

"You gonna cum like that? Just thinking of my cock in your pretty little cunny? Dirty slut. Even the thought of it makes you feel so good, yeah?"

You gasp out a yes, yes daddy, panting in the empty room. He sees your shoulders tense, your head fall back further into the pillow, and decides to be a little evil. A little bit of a devil.

Because why should he let you enjoy that beautiful body of yours on your own?

"Don't cum." You don't seem to hear him. His tone lowers to a rough, commanding growl. "Don't fucking cum, (Y/N)."

You immediately slip your fingers out of your hole. You gaze down at your phone with blown pupils and a red face.

"What's wrong?" you ask in a shaky voice. "Did I do something wrong, daddy?"

Ah, you know him too well. That thing you call him... always makes him think of fucking you 'till you scream words dirty as sin.

"Wait for me. If you cum before I get there, you won't get daddy's cock." He blinks at you with the eyes of a watchful predator. Fuck, is he ready to fuck you up. "You know that I'll know if you do, don't you baby?"

"Yes daddy. B-but please, please hurry." You swipe at your slit again. He huffs, swinging a thick coat over his shoulder on his way to the door, still on the phone with you. "I want daddy to taste this."

He takes off at a brisk walk. He ends the call now, whispers that you be a good girl and wait for your daddy. He knows that you will be. He knows that it was pointless telling you, if not completely inimical, because if anything he'd only made your pussy ache more.

He knocks at your door. Chuckles to himself for a second. He's never knocked on anyone's door before. He supposes something about you has changed him. With a pussy as good as yours he guesses such changes were inevitable.

You swing the door open, hair a pretty mess, bust nearly bursting from your dress. It's a tight one on you. He shares one look with you, then gets straight to giving his good girl her reward. Desperation comes over your features. From that he knows you had obeyed him.

"Were you good for daddy?" he asks, cupping your cheek with atypical fondness as he pushes you through the door.

"Yes daddy," you answer. "I was a good girl for you."

The only affirmation he offers you is a pleased hum he lets vibrate against your mouth as he slams the door shut and shoves you up against the wall. You moan into his lips. Wrap your legs around his thick waist. He can taste your sweet lipstick.

"What do you want me to reward you with, baby?" he questions, tonguing the shell of your ear and purpling your neck with bruises for love bites. "Want me to make you cum three times? Seven? I can make it good for you."

"Anything. Anything from you daddy."

In spite of the chuffed delight he feels at your easy subservience, he really wants to make this good for you.

"You have to let daddy know what his good girl wants," he says. "Come on, tell me."

Toji pulls back to smirk down at you. You seem dazed and far out of your head. If he can fuck you up like this, he wonders how many times you've done him over with your own coquettish teases. Though he doubts he's ever shown it the way you do.

"I want to suck on daddy's cock," you tell him.

Of course you do. You have always sought his satisfaction instead of your own.

He can't say no to you this time.

You throw your gaze to the couch. It's such a filthy look Toji wonders how you can focus on a literal couch with that much indecency.

Toji slides his tongue against yours as he maneuvers you and him to the couch. His cock twitches in his pants. Anticipation boiling at an all-time high at the decadent sucking you'll give him.

Yeah. A lot of the time your mouth around his cock is all he can think of.

You press one kiss to the scar on his mouth. It's tender and sweet and everything he's ever closed himself off to. But you open him up like ripe fruit.

His coat hangs on the stand by the door. His focus diverts to the shadow of it for a second, body and mind calm. Red and white taillights brighten the glass of your door and window. A pacific serenity settles over him. Being here with you—even as you're about to deep-throat his cock in the skilled way you do with that pretty mouth of yours—lets him feel a very tiny degree of domesticity. A very tiny degree of peace.

Does he like it? Well.

"Daddy's got such a pretty girl," he compliments, sliding his thumb across your lips as you tie your hair up behind your head. "Let me do that for you."

You pull back from him in surprise. The offer is so abnormal and unexpected your instincts bring you away from him.

"What," he deadpans.

"Do you—do you even know how to—?"

"Who do you think has been keeping your hair up every time you do this?"

"Oh." A smile graces your mouth. Toji glares down at you but you only lighten up with bubbly laughter. "Sorry. Sorry, daddy. Here you go."

You hand him the hair tie. He puts your hair up with diligence, turning his nose up smugly as you touch the perfectly messy bun at the back of your head, nodding in approval.

"Daddy did a surprisingly good job," you tease.

"Keep talking like that and I'll have to shut you up with my cock, sweetheart."

"Mhm. Now let me do that myself."

It takes only seconds for you to undo his belt and unzip his fly. His breathing gets all worked up again. You blink up at him with doe-eyed innocence as you rub your face into his cock, indulging in the warmth of his length. Cheek receiving each throb of his dick.

"Something wrong, daddy?"

"Hurry. Up."

Uh oh. A little misstep on your part. Too much teasing.

You tilt your head, eyes still on him as you swallow his cock up. Your hands wrap around the fat length. You have to balance yourself on his thigh as the head of his cock taps the back of your throat. You swallow around your gag reflex. Toji breathes in sharply. Grasps your hair in a hand and patiently waits for you to finish taking him in. It is... very unlike him.

He's acting nicer than usual.

The muscles in your throat contract. Convulse. It's always been hard to suck this man's cock. It's bigger than your monthly salary.

You choke as his dick twitches in your mouth, eyes squeezing shut at the sheer girth and length of it. You struggle to breathe in through your nose. Toji notices.

"Want me to do the work for you, sweetheart?"

His question comes out as a heavy grunt as you hollow your cheeks and wrap your mouth around him tighter. You open your closed eyes, tempted to let him have his way with you.

The air pops with the sound of you pulling off his cock. You swallow through the ache in your throat and cheeks. Only three minutes in and your mouth is already exhausted.

"Fuck my face, daddy."

Toji stands and hastily adjusts your position so that your head rests against the couch. You relax your jaw and hold your smiling mouth open for him. He grips the bottom of your chin with his fingers and palm and gently taps your mouth with his cock. You widen your mouth.

The shirt wrapped around his musculature strains as he slides his cock into your mouth. His chest heaves, brows curling together as he watches himself fuck your face.

"Yeah, good girl," he praises in a hungry voice. He fucks his cock into your mouth slowly, keen to feel every struggling gasp and gurgled swallow of your mouth. He wants to cum in your mouth then slip the white mess off your tongue to paint your face filthy with it.

Soon his thrusts go wild. He grips the back of your head with both hands, tugging at your hair with his fingers and holding your head the way he holds your ass in doggy-style.

Toji smirks through his sex-drunk haze as your eyes roll to the back of your head. Drool spills from the side of your mouth. He can't wait to see his cum mix with it. Toji angles his body so that he can hump your mouth harder. So that he doesn't fall over when you suddenly reach upward to finger his balls with skill.

"Gonna take my cum? Does my good girl wanna take it?"

You lean upward to tilt your head back, loosening your throat further so that his cock goes nearly all the way down. He moans quietly. Throws his head back as you grab the backs of his thighs and part of his ass to push his cock in deeper. Your nose brushes the hair on his pelvis, lips almost kissing the same sprouts of hair. You're taking him in so far he can't help but groan and rut into your throat with hotter fervor.

You gulp through a clogged throat as he plugs your mouth up and full of cum. Toji's own mouth falls open and he breathes out hard from around a moan as he cums. You watch as he does. He gets so vulnerable when he releases. His face contorts and he hunches over to get his dick far down your throat. You wonder if there'll be any left on your tongue. You don't want to disappoint your daddy by having no proof to show.

His cock slips out of your mouth with a delicious slide. You suck your cheeks in as he does, lips savoring the sensation of the head of his dick catching at your mouth.

"Daddy knows his girl swallowed it all up," he says, holding your cheek in one hand. "So let him give her another reward for being so good."

———

END NOTE: Please do not take lewd photos of your partner without their consent. Such an act shows how little respect you have for their body and their wishes. Please ask for clear consent from them before taking such photos.

#toji fushiguro #fushiguro #toji #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader smut #fushiguro x reader smut #toji x reader #smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami thirst hours #pwp #fushiguro toji x reader fluff #fushiguro toji hcs #gojo satoru #itadori yuji #fushiguro toji icons #fushiguro toji smut #fushiguro toji wallpaper

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hakasims · 4 years ago

Text

The Most Important Review of Every Single Marwan Kenzari Film

If you’ve seen this one about Luca, you know the drill.

Now, Marwan’s brand is a little less defined than Luca’s but I managed to find similar tropes in a lot of his films. Also, rather than copy myself and give you a redundant Marwanmeter, I decided instead to recommend which Luca character best pairs with each Marwan character for your crossover pleasure. Let’s see if we ship the same things! Some of them are crack. You’re welcome.

(all gifs again by the awesomely amazing @weardes who did not ask to be my gif factory but life’s a bitch)

Het zusje van Katia (2008)

Will you miss him if you blink? Kinda. They talk about him a lot but his actual screen time is like 43.7 seconds. Also can I just say... he’s supposed to be from Italy?? The boy says literally one (1) Italian word, and you’ll never guess what it is. (Obviously, it’s “bella” like there’s a chance he could’ve said anything else.)

Is he hot? Painfully hot.

Is he naked? There’s this one scene where he’s wearing the sluttiest pair of speedos I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

Does his hair look great? Actually, yes. Perfect hair, perfect beard, he looks amazing.

Does he fuck? Yes, a lot - off screen, including an M/M/F threesome he presumably, probably, most definitely initiated.

Best paired with? From what I’ve gathered, this hoe ain’t loyal, so the best course of action is to find him a Luca that would benefit from a one night stand with no strings attached and wouldn’t fall in love with him. The obvious choice here is Valerio from Slam - Tutto per una ragazza. They meet, they fuck, then Giac makes his 4-hour drive back to Pisa, and they don’t see each other again until the next time he’s in Rome. Everybody’s happy, especially the two sluts in question.

De laatste dagen van Emma Blank (2009)

Will you miss him if you blink? Yes, absolutely.

Is he hot? Very.

Is he naked? Almost constantly.

Does his hair look great? He’s got those cute short curls, he looks so good.

Does he fuck? That’s literally why he’s there: to fuck and to die.

Best paired with? Man, I wish I had something to work with here. The only thing we know about him besides his sexual prowess is his affinity for white suits and toy helicopters. And as far as I know, those might be the exact things Fabrizio from Nina finds hot in guys. So like, why not?

Loft (2010)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s the fifth most important character.

Is he hot? Yeah, sure.

Is he naked? There’s a scene where he’s wearing underwear and a tank top but it somehow makes him look like a kindergartener.

Does his hair look great? It looks quite nice.

Does he fuck? Yes, though I wish he didn’t.

Best paired with? Tom is a very violent person and a drug addict. He does messed up stuff to his sexual partners I’d rather he didn’t do to any of Luca’s characters. Feel free to use him for your sadistic fantasies or as a villain or whatever.

Rabat (2011)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s one of the three leads.

Is he hot? Oh yes! And cute!

Is he naked? He’s at the beach wearing nothing but boxer shorts.

Does his hair look great? He’s got this extreme undercut thing that would look ridiculous on anyone less pretty, so like no, he doesn’t have great hair, but also like it’s Marwan, you know what I mean?

Does he fuck? Before he embarks on a road trip with his friends, he has an offscreen threesome with two girls he picked up at a wedding. Slut.

Best paired with? Gabriele from Waves. They’re both sweet guys who could meet in some Tunisian port and decide to sail the Mediterranean Sea together.

Black Out (2012)

Will you miss him if you blink? Not unless your blinking is very deliberate.

Is he hot? Not really. He’s a dirty cop with a shitty moustache and oral fixation.

Is he naked? No, but I wish he was: his clothes are awful. Marwan is 29 in this movie and he looks 50!

Does his hair look great? Nope. They took Marwan’s usual short hair and made it not work somehow.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? The one thing Luca’s characters all have in common is that none of them come off as bootlickers. All of them are either too soft for such a relationship or wouldn’t waste their spit on a cop.

Wolf (2013)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist.

Is he hot? *gestures wildly at the gif*

Is he naked? He’s got quite a few shirtless scenes.

Does his hair look great? It’s nothing special but suits his character well.

Does he fuck? Oh yes.

Best paired with? Hear me out. I know that some people ship him with Fabio, but in my opinion that pair, while hot, doesn’t work. Here’s my pitch: Cesare from Non essere cattivo. The drug connection is still there, but in this case Majid’s problem-solving skills won’t fall on deaf ears. Cesare needs a daddy, ok? Majid can be a daddy when he needs to, especially when he has a soft boyfriend to care for. And Majid needs soft, not psycho.

Hartenstraat (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist once again.

Is he hot? Painfully.

Is he naked? There’s that iconic scene where he’s wearing nothing but black boxer briefs and boots while carrying a tray...

Does his hair look great? He’s got Joe-like curls and looks like what every male romantic lead should aspire to look like and then cry because they all fail.

Does he fuck? There’s one very unfortunate sex scene played for laughs. I’m pretty sure he’ll need therapy afterwards. I certainly do.

Best paired with? Paolo from Il padre d’Italia. Paolo deserves the best boyfriend, and who’s better than Daan, an extremely hot man who cooks? They both have daughters, so they can talk about that, I guess, and Paolo can finally have a family. Honestly, this is so wholesome I just made myself cry.

Lucia de B. (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? For sure.

Is he hot? He’s a cop. Again. But he looks good.

Is he naked? Fully dressed, but man are his clothes ugly. Is that a cop thing?

Does his hair look great? He has slightly longer curls, which is fine and the best thing about this character.

Does he fuck? ACAB. (I know this doesn’t answer the question, I just wanted to make it clear.)

Best paired with? See my bootlicker comment from earlier. While Detective *checks notes* Ron Leeflang isn’t explicitly corrupt, he’s obviously a dick, so the best I can do here is recommend any Luca character that has ever been in trouble with the law for any fics about power imbalance you want to write but aren’t comfortable with a nice Marwan playing the villain.

Bloedlink (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? Oh no, he’s there the entire time.

Is he hot? In a weird way, yes.

Is he naked? So, so, so naked. Like, leave nothing to the imagination naked.

Does his hair look great? I’d say that little rat tail is the exact opposite of great.

Does he fuck? Probably more than is good for him. I should also add that he’s canonically queer in this.

Best paired with? Rico is a pathetic loser in need of someone who’s got his life together and has a lot of experience dealing with fuckups. Enter Loris from Il mondo fino in fondo. He has a stable job and a savior complex, and with his little bro gaying it up in Chile and not needing him anymore, all he wants right now is someone to fix. I should be a fucking matchmaker in real life, for real.

Pak van mijn hart (2014)

Will you miss him if you blink? Undoubtedly.

Is he hot? No. The whole point of his character is to be the lesser choice compared to a guy who looks like a completely ordinary bland white dude...

Is he naked? ...so of course he isn’t naked! What, are they gonna take this poor woman, show her Marwan Kenzari’s post-Wolf body and expect her to choose her deeply mediocre ex? Please! They’re gonna dress him in the dorkiest clothes possible...

Does his hair look great? ...and make him wear the most awful wig that was clearly run over by a truck.

Does he fuck? No. As you can observe, they tried really hard to make him unfuckable, but honestly, he seems like a perfectly nice guy.

Best paired with? You know what? Mattia from La solitudine dei numeri primi is in desperate need of some sweetness and normalcy. I’m sure Richard will treat him with kindness and respect.

Collide (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s the fifth most important character. Out of five.

Is he hot? Very hot.

Is he naked? Not for a second! What’s up with American movies where people aren’t just casually walking around naked without any plot necessity???

Does his hair look great? His curls are so cute you guys! Look at them!

Does he fuck? Not explicitly.

Best paired with? Fabio from Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot. Again, the drug connection is there, but Matthias is soft enough not to butt heads with Fabio and, by the end of the movie, rich enough to satisfy his cravings for good living and fame. Also look at how good their color coordination is with those dark wine red clothes! Sometimes planets just align, okay?

Ben-Hur (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? Yes, especially if you aren’t watching the background.

Is he hot? Your usual Marwan hot.

Is he naked? No.

Does his hair look great? His typical short curls with a twist. I think the forehead area is supposed to invoke the Caesar cut? I don’t know. It looks fine when not hidden under that dumb helmet.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? A better script and a much better director. (Seriously, what is this blocking?)

The Promise (2016)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s there a decent amount in the first half of the movie and then almost completely disappears in the second half.

Is he hot? Very much, yes.

Is he naked? Unfortunately, no.

Does his hair look great? He’s got short curls again, but this time they’re fashionably styled, it’s magnificent.

Does he fuck? Oh yeah! And there’s no way he isn’t bi or pan in this. No way.

Best paired with? Roberta from L’ultimo terrestre. Listen, Emre Ogan may be a slut but he’s a gentleman, okay? He’d treat Roberta right and he’s got daddy’s cash to spare on hundreds of gorgeous white dresses for her.

The Mummy (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s there, but barely.

Is he hot? Dangerously hot.

Is he naked? Not once! Instead we get a naked Tom Cruise literally no one asked for.

Does his hair look great? It’s your basic professional short hairdo.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? Malik is a member of an organization tracking and destroying various monsters and historical artefacts related to them. Guido from Tutti i santi giorni speaks four languages, including Latin, and is a literature and ancient history nerd which makes him a valuable asset. Malik can fight and protect; Guido is bumbling and in need of saving. Guys, this writes itself.

What Happened to Monday (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, especially not in the third act.

Is he hot? He’s okay.

Is he naked? Very naked.

Does his hair look great? They shouldn’t have greased his curls back. He looks like another victim of Fabio Cannizzaro’s stylist. Also I wish he’d either shaved or finished growing out that beard.

Does he fuck? He fucks and he fucks good. He’ll go down on you, he’ll deflower you slowly and gently, he’ll choke you if you want him to, he’ll spoon you all night, he’ll give you emotional support, he’ll murder people for you - he’s down for whatever.

Best paired with? There’s one Luca character who needs a lot of sex and even more emotional support. Alright, most of them do, but I’m thinking of Ettore from Lasciate andare. He needs it, okay? Good dicking, good spooning, a good ear, a fine piece of ass to cry into - you get the gist. Most importantly: someone who’d love him for who he is and with whom he could relax and be himself. (Also, I see you, people comparing him to Fabio. Shame on you for sleeping on this soft boy and judging him based on his appearance.)

Murder on the Orient Express (2017)

Will you miss him if you blink? He’s kinda always present, being very French.

Is he hot? Very hot.

Is he naked? No, but I’m willing to forgive that because he looks so good in his conductor uniform.

Does his hair look great? He never takes off his hat.

Does he fuck? No.

Best paired with? Mickey Miranda. They’re both murderers morally dubious characters who would look hot together. What else do you need? (Again, I see you, people who want Pierre for Roberta because he’s a “nice guy”, and I know for a fact you didn’t watch the movie. Spoilers, I guess.)

The Angel (2018)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the protagonist.

Is he hot? Oh yes.

Is he naked? Not once, but you won’t regret it because he’s wearing excellently stylish 1970s clothes.

Does his hair look great? It looks fantastic. The sideburns (not yet seen here) are a good touch.

Does he fuck? He can definitely get it, but he’s loyal to his wife.

Best paired with? As the most aesthetically coherent and fashionably hot pair in this post, Ashraf and Primo are a no-brainer. Can you imagine Primo calling him “Angel” in different contexts? When he’s being intimidating, not realizing how palpable the sexual tension between them is, and later not even hiding his arousal? Sometimes things just work because they’re hot. That’s all, folks.

Aladdin (2019)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s the main villain.

Is he hot? It’s not like he went viral for being the “hot Jafar” or anything.

Is he naked? No! Fucking thanks a lot, Disney.

Does his hair look great? He has a buzz cut under that turban but he looks good in the turban, so that’s something.

Does he fuck? It’s a Disney movie, so he doesn’t fuck - explicitly or otherwise - but he still comes off as a thirsty bitch.

Best paired with? Jafar ends the movie as a genie who’s obligated to grant his master three wishes but is enough of a petty bitch to exploit the hell out of the “gray area” and screw them over Wishmaster style. My unconventional pair for him is Lui from Ricordi? So many scenarios with distorted memories and magic-induced mindfuck. So many possibilities for awesome and messed up crossover gifsets! Don’t say I never give you guys anything.

Instinct (2019)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, he’s very prominent.

Is he hot? I hate myself for finding him hot but I do.

Is he naked? He’s playing basketball shirtless in one scene, shaking his sweaty boobs everywhere.

Does his hair look great? His weird mohawk-like thing is honestly terrible, but if anything can make it work, it’s Marwan’s bone structure.

Does he fuck? Um, I’m pleading the Fifth on this one for the sake of good taste.

Best paired with? Prison. A very lonely, Luca-less prison.

The Old Guard (2020)

Will you miss him if you blink? No, unless blinking in your case means sleeping through the gloriousness that is the first ever canonically gay couple in an American action film.

Is he hot? Painfully.

Is he naked? Shirtless in one scene.

Does his hair look great? Soft curls courtesy of Luca Marinelli’s tireless lobbying.

Does he fuck? Not on screen, but you can just tell by the way he looks at his husband and reads impromptu poetry right to his face. And everybody knows nothing kindles the fires of passion quite like murdering homophobes together.

Best paired with? If you have to ask, you’re clearly reading this by mistake. In which case, kudos for finishing such a long and confusing post, now go watch The Old Guard and cry at the beauty that is The Immortal Marriage.

#marwan kenzari #luca marinelli #the old guard #and other movies #i'm lazy #immortal husbands #and their parallel versions i guess #crossover ships galore

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years ago

Text

Invisible Pain ~ Part 2

MAIN MASTERLIST

Tony Stark x Reader

Word Count: 1,860ish

Summary: You struggle shopping for a dress.

Notes: this is Part 2 to my other story Invisible Pain. Please read it before reading this. This is based on an experience I had last week. I literally had a panic attack in the dressing room.

“Are you getting a new dress for Tony’s party on Friday?” Natasha asked as you and her finished working out together.

“I don’t know,” you responded. “You?”

“Yeah. Want to go together later?”

“Sounds great.”

It had been a few months since the team found out about your rheumatoid arthritis. They had all been extremely supportive and caring, as well as overprotective. It took you tattling to Fury to get Tony and Steve to let you train again. Not to mention Bruce’s constant check ups and blood tests. Tony had even upgraded your watch to make it easier on himself and Bruce to track everything.

During the time since your illness came out, you and Tony had also become an official couple. To no one’s real surprise. He was so sweet and understanding about your illness, and had truly read everything he could on the subject. You in turn were caring and understanding about his struggles with PTSD, like you had been when you were friends.

“Hey honey,” Tony greeted coming into your shared room as you were trying to get undressed. “Need help?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “You mind helping me undress? I’m struggling to get my shirt off.”

“Sure thing.” Tony came over and began taking your shirt off. “Are your shoulders bugging you today?”

“Yeah. I tried not to use them too much in training today, but I couldn’t help it.”

Tony shook it head slightly and clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You need to be more careful.”

“It’s just my shoulders today, Tony. And I took some meds before you came it. I’ll be fine.”

He sighed as he finished taking your shirt off for you, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. “Do you need help in the shower?”

“I’ll be fine, Tony.”

“You sure? Cause I can be of some help.”

“Maybe tonight.” You leaned in and gave him a small kiss. “I have to hurry so I can meet up with Nat. We’re going dress shopping for the party on Friday.”

“Oh? Need help?”

“Nope.”

“Will you send me a picture?”

“I’d rather not. I’m trying to see how speechless I can leave the great billionaire, playboy.” You walked into the bathroom with a wink, shutting the door behind you.

~~~

“How about this one?” Natasha wondered, holding up a dress.

“Sure, why not?” You replied, adding the dress to the growing pile in your arms. With your shoulders already aching, the rest of your arms were slowly following. “I think that I’m ready to go try them on now. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to hold all these.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you in the fitting rooms. I’m just going to take one more look around before I start trying some on.”

You nodded before heading to the fitting room. Entering one, you laid the dresses out of the bench along the wall. You locked the door before trying to undress yourself. You sucked in a breath and winced as your shoulders screamed at you to not take your shirt off. Biting down on your bottom lip, you pulled your shirt over your head anyway.

Slightly panting in relief, your head feel back and your eyes closes. You were trying to mentally cope with the pain. Taking another deep breath in, and slowly letting it out, you looked down at the dress on top. You lifted it so that you could see the back, revealing a long zipper. You sighed, upset at yourself for not noticing it sooner.

Because of your arthritis, you were unable to reach your back. So you wouldn’t be able to zip up the dress. You lifted it up and looked it over, sighing once again. The dress wouldn’t be able to be slipped over your head either. Putting the dress to the side, you began going over the other dresses in the pile, finding the same issue with them as well. Leaning back against the wall, you slid down it and buried your face in your hands. Why couldn’t you like a dress with a zipper on the side? Or, the bigger question, why do you have to have arthritis?

You began to silently cry and panic slightly. How were you ever going to get a dress and surprise Tony? How were you ever going to be able to go dress shopping alone? There was a slight buzz on your wrist and you knew FRIDAY was sending information on your condition to Bruce and Tony, but you didn’t care at the moment.

You don’t know how long you were sitting on the floor like that before you were interrupted.

“Hey, in there,” Natasha called, knocking on the locked door. “How’s it going?”

“Umm, it’s fine,” you replied, not sounding very convincing.

“Yeah? Find anything yet?”

“Not yet… uh, nothing’s fitting or looking good.”

“Really? Why don’t you show me? Maybe your mind is deceiving you.”

“Thanks, Nat, but I’m good. I think I’m just going to get dressed and go home. I’ll just wear something I already have.”

“Are you sure? I can go grab someth—“

“I’m good, Nat. Really. If you found something, go buy it and I’ll meet you out front.”

“…Okay. Meet you out front.”

~~~

It was painful getting your clothes back on. You could tell that Natasha knew that something was wrong, but wasn’t willing to push you about it. You went straight to your room, locking yourself in the connecting bathroom. You quickly swallowed down some medicine before putting some arthritis rub on your shoulders. Taking a few deep breaths, you tried to touch your hands together behind your back. On hand was going over a shoulder, the other was trying from the lower part of your back. Checking in the mirror, you could see that there was about 5 inches separating your hands from meeting. Tears trickled down your cheeks as you tried to push yourself to make them meet.

“Honey?” Tony’s voice came from the other side of the door, with a slight knock. “Are you okay? FRIDAY’s sending Bruce and I some readings.” Instead of answering, you just let out a strangled sob. “Sweetheart? I’m coming in, okay?” FRIDAY unlocked the door and Tony quickly came in and pulled you into his arms. “What’s going on?”

“I—I can’t—I couldn’t—“

“Hold on, honey, you’re panicking.” He lifted you up so that you were sitting on the counter, and he cupped your face. “Just breathe, Y/N. Just breathe. I’m right here. And when you’re ready, you can tell me what’s going on.”

“I-I couldn’t find a dress.”

“Okay, that’s fine. You can wear something you already have.”

“No.” You shook your head slightly. “I couldn’t find a dress I could put on myself.”

“Oh.” Tony nodded, finally understanding.

“And I just wanted to look nice and surprise you.”

“Honey, you always look nice. Even when you’re dusty and have blood on you after a fight, you’re always the most beautiful person to me.”

“I just wanted to surprise you and I can’t even dress myself!” You slammed a fist against the counter.

“Woah! Honey!” He quickly grabbed your hand and pressed small kisses to it. “Please don’t hurt yourself.”

“Why does it matter? I’m useless anyway, or I will be, sooner than we all want to admit.”

“Stop right there!” Tony held your face so that you had to look at him. “You are not useless, nor will you ever be. Yes, you have your struggles. But you are a fighter and have proven that you aren’t one to give up. Why now?”

“I’m just so tired of it, Tony… I just want to not feel this way anymore… I want to be able to dress myself and not have my joints screaming in pain every time I move. I want to be able to have sex with you and be able to enjoy every single second of it… I want to consider the possibility of maybe having kids, without my joints telling me no… I want to be normal.”

Tony chuckled, rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks. “Honey, there is no such thing as normal. And that is okay. It hurts me to know that you are struggling through all this and that there is so little I can do. But, I will be by your side through whatever you need. You need me to brush your hair and wash your body? I’m there. You need me to make the bed or help you dress? I’m there. You need me to do all the work during sex? I got you. I am here for you, even when the time comes that you may be wheelchair bound. I am not leaving and Bruce and I will not stop trying to find something that eases your pain.”

“I love you, Tony.”

“Love you too.” He pressed a soft kiss on your lips. “Now, how about we go dress shopping again and you let me enjoy helping you into a dress, okay?”

“Okay.”

~~~

Dress shopping with Tony was actually enjoyable. It helped that he was treating you like a queen the whole time. He helped you into each dress, occasionally pressing gentle kisses onto your exposed skin. He praised you in each dress, telling you how gorgeous you looked but that it was up to you whether or not you got the dress. None of the dresses though were calling to you, which wasn’t making you feel much better.

“I have one more idea,” Tony said after you had just said no to the last dress in your fitting room. He quickly unzipped you. “I’ll be right back.”

He rushed out of the small room, leaving you confused. You cringed at you got out of the dress and put it back on the hanger. Hugging your mid section, you stood there, nervously waiting for Tony to return. When he did, he came back with a dress that wasn’t exactly on your list of choices.

“Tony, I don’t know,” you told him, shaking your head a little.

“I know it’s usually not your style, but could you just try it on. For me?”

He knew very well that you had a hard time saying no when he used his big brown eyes and asked like that.

You sighed, “Fine.”

Tony was way too excited to get you into that dress. You let him, just wanting to make him happy, as he was just trying to do with you. You tried not look in the mirror at all as Tony helped you into the dress.

“Done,” he said softly after getting you all zipped up.

You took a deep breath and finally examined yourself in the mirror. You were shocked. Yes, you would have never picked this dress out for yourself, but it was perfect. You looked at Tony in the mirror, who was silent.

“It’s perfect, Tony,” you said softly. “Absolutely perfect.”

He carefully wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. He smirked as he made eye contact with you in the mirror.

“No,” he responded at the same volume. “You’re perfect.”

Notes: Again, every experiences arthritis differently. This is just a sample on how I feel it. Thank you for reading and your support! If you enjoyed this please check out these:

My Superhero - Steve Rogers x Reader

Purple - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Here’s a sneak peak of more of my work to come:

2 - Out Of Time: Morgan Stark x Mom!Reader x Dad!Tony Stark

3 - Avengers x Teen!Reader

4 - Out Of Time: Uncle!Steve Rogers x Niece!Morgan Stark

5 - Tony Stark x Reader

6 - Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader

7 - Sam Wilson x Reader

8 - Bucky Barnes x Patella Alta!Reader

9 - Tony Stark x Autistic!Reader

10 - Tony Stark x Reader

I also have more arthritis/autoimmune disease fics to come as well. So follow me to read more!

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #Tony Stark fanfiction #avengers x reader #the avengers x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #iron man x reader #iron man imagine #tony stark x arthritis!reader #chronic illness reader #marvel x reader

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lubdubsworld · 4 years ago

Text

Insatiable. ( Jungkook x Oc) Chapter 3

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC! Age difference!!! [ bet you’ve never seen all of this in one fic before? ]

[ Some notes : Born Vampires stop aging when they turn twenty five. Turned vampires stop aging when they’re turned. ]

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

“So, you guys looked pretty cozy in the garden.” Somi pursed her lips, disapproval evident on her sharp features as she watched me hop around, trying to pull the pantyhose up over the fleshiest part of my thigh. It was just a little past six thirty and I already wanted the night to end.

“He was telling me how he wanted me to have babies so his son could play with them.” I snapped.

Somi blinked.

“And uh..is he providing the baby batter?” She said drily and I laughed.

“I think..... he’s attracted to me.” I said dreamily, remembering the way he’d definitely gotten hard at breakfast this morning.

“I mean, he’s a straight guy with eyes? Not surprising....” My sister grinned.

“No, I mean... like actually physically attracted. I felt it too. it made me want to do something unholy with him.” I muttered, eyes misting over at the idea of being spread out on his bed. Satin sheets underneath my body, the weight of his body on mine.

“He’s a vampire. Pretty sure anything you do with him is unholy.” She winked. I sighed, running a hand over my face.

“Are you sure this is the way to go? “ I glanced at the robin blue off shoulder gown. I was wary of drawing attention to my neck, especially with a Kim.

“It’s beautiful. Besides, it is your color. I want to see the look on Jungkook’s face when he sees you. Want to see him regret all his life choices.”

“i thought you didn’t approve of him.” i said amused.

“I didn’t at first. But then you told me he rejected you and well, no one does that to my baby sister,” She glared and I hugged her close, placing a kiss on her forehead.

I hesitated.

“Would it be too terrible if I tried to seduce him?” I bit my lips.

Somi’s eyes widened.

“Sera...”

“Just hear me out.” I said urgently.

She sighed.

“Somi, I’ve never been with a man. I just... I can’t get married as a virgin ..I absolutely refuse to. And I sure as hell don’t want to give it up to one of these pompous little brats who act like utter douchebags. So what am I supposed to do? Now, Jungkook ..” I paused, taking a deep breath to steady my pulse which raced every time I thought about him,. “ ...he’s...he’s so gentle. And nice and I just... I think he’ll make it good for me.”

I felt my face flame, half certain there was steam coming out of my ears.

Somi looked slightly slack jawed.

“Oh..um.. okay.” She laughed nervously. “ And how are you goig to get him to agree to this?”

“Beg? .... I don’t know...” I groaned. “ What do you think?”

Somi hesitated.

“I think, for now you should concentrate on showing him that you’re not a child. So , do well tonight. At the dinner. Be polite courteous ... make good conversation... he’s going to be nearby right? Let him see you as an equal... I think he needs to trust that you guys are on equal footing before he will consider anything more ....”

I stared at her, my mind racing.

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” I kissed her again. “i love you. Now get my make up on.” I said excitedly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For all that I wanted Jungkook to be slack jawed when he saw me, it was my own jaw that came unhinged when I opened the door to the hallway at exactly 7.00 PM

I stared, my eyes literally popping out of their sockets when i took in the absolute fucking vision he looked like.

Tight, fitted leather pants that molded to his legs , putting those deliciously muscled thighs on display, so tight on his crotch that my mouth watered . A dark belt, cinched tight around his ridiculously slim waist and he’d paired it with a blue silk shirt , that flowed around his torso like water. A thin black and blue striped tie hung around his neck, knotted loose and the end brushing past his waistline and a small silver earring dangled from his earlobes, catching the light of the lamp in the hallway.

My throat went dry as I stared at him.

And then i squinted.

Oh God, was that a nipple?

Nope. Not doing this today .

“Please excuse me!” I said hoarsely, voice cracking and face flushing red as I turned right back around , wrenched the huge oak door open and all but flew into the safety of my room before slamming the door shut in his face.

I sank to the floor in a heap, pressing a palm to my heart, trying to calm my pulse which had shot up so much. Somi stared at me from where she was putting away her cosmetics, eyebrows raised in surprise,.

“What’s wrong?” She asked worried.

“I think I just came untouched.” I whispered, staring at her with wide eyes.

Her eyes widened and her lips twisted in disgust.

“Oh my god, you horny little pervert!!! Get up from the floor, you’re wrinkling the dress!!”

I breathed rapidly, trying to get my brain to function but the sight of Jeon Jungkook’s nipples covered only by a thin silk shirt was burned into my mind.

i had never wanted to lick something so bad.

The knock on the door made me jump.

“Sera? Are you alright?” Jungkook’s voice called from the corridor and I whimpered.

“I can’t do this... Please... i can’t.... don’t make me..” I begged.

My sister gave me a glare and stalked over grabbing my arm and dragging me up with ease.

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s not like you’ve never seen Jungkook before, how hot could-” She pulled the door open and froze in place, her eyes going wide as saucers, lips parting in surprise as she stared at Jungkook.

“ Fuck me ..” She whispered softly, clearly having lost all her senses at the sight of him. I elbowed her hard, trying not to burst into tears. .

Jungkook frowned.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing!! Nothing...she’s just excited that I’m finally dating again!!” I laughed cheerfully.

Jungkook glanced between the pair of us, a small frown on his face but he didn’t question me further.

“Should we go?” He prompted and I smiled, wide.

Just don’t look at him. Don’t look at him and you’ll be fine.

I kept my gaze straight ahead as we walked down the corridor.

“You look nice.” He commented casually and I swallowed.

“You look.....” decadent...like the kind of dessert I’d be tasting for hours... please let me lick your nipples...”.different.” I squeezed my eyes, willing myself to calm down but it was impossible. I swelled and ached in all the wrong places and my thighs trembled with the effort not to rub them together. My insides clenched, arousal dampening the bikini briefs I had on and i had to bite my lips to resist the urge to climb him like a tree and grind down on his thighs till I came.

fuck.

“ Your father mentioned that it would be better if i blended in with the other patrons. He thinks it would make your date more comfortable if I didn’t hover around in black like a ghoul. “ He laughed.

“ Ahahahahah....” i laughed shrilly, barely listening to a word he said because I was having a mental breakdown.

I glanced to the front of his chest again, a quick sharp glance and yup.....those were certainly a pair of nipples, the nub hard and obvious through the silk of his shirt.

Jungkook left to get the car and i stood at the entrance to the mansion, shivering lightly. The small fur throw i had on my shoulder was more for decoration than to keep warm and the night was chilly.

By the time Jungkook brought the black Bugatti around, I was shaking.

“Ooh... That’s a fancy car.” I commented , heart racing with how handsome he looked, gripping the steering wheel and he smiled.

“It’s Namjoon’s . I thought you’d like to arrive in style today.” He grinned.

I climbed in quickly, eager to get out of the biting wind. The interior was warm and cozy and i moaned, relaxing into the seats.

“You look really good.” He said again, gaze flitting over me with a little more intent and I blushed.

“You mentioned.” I whispered.

“I see you in those godawful t shirts and stained jeans all the time and you’re usually just cleaning spill ups or washing baby bottles at the daycare so i keep forgetting .” He shook his head, thoughtfully, fixing the mirrors and glancing back.

“Forgetting what?” i asked confused.

“That you are literally the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

He said it casually, no fervent ardor behind his words .

Just a matter of fact observation and somehow, the words felt like liquid heat being poured into me.

it stuck me then, that I would give my entire life and soul to be on this date with Jungkook. To have dinner with him, to listen to him talk about himself. To tell him everything about myself. To just sit there, staring into his gorgeous face. Hold his hands over the dinner table and gaze into his eyes.

I’m so in love with you.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” I said softly.

“Yeah? I clean up good, don’t I?” He tilted his head, hair falling into his eye as he winked at me , a small smirk on his cherry red lips.

I glanced away quickly, because staring at Jungkook was like staring into the fucking sun.

staring at him made my eyes hurt.

And it also broke my heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Sera....” Mingyu had a very familiar look on his face. A hungry, lustful , disbelieving look that I was altogether familiar with.

I managed a weak smile in return, letting him hug me , wincing when he buried his nose into my neck, breathing in my scent like he was starving. And the honest truth was, I didn’t even blame him . Control came with age and Mingyu was way too young to have full control over his instincts. And I knew exactly what my scent did to a vampire’s instincts.

But still, the grip on my waist was bruising and I was having a hard time breathing. I tried to push him away , a bit but Mingyu merely moaned, nosing in deeper.

“You smell amazing.” He sounded punch drunk .

Over his shoulders, I caught Jungkook’s gaze as he sat at the table next to us. He was frowning deeply.

“You okay?” He mouthed and I nodded. it was way too early to pull the plug on this. We hadn’t even sat down for dinner yet.

I grabbed the arm around me hard and dug my nails into the skin. That made him recoil, pulling away with a wide eyed look of horror on his face.

“Oh.,..Oh God... I’m so sorry.. I didn’t mean too... I’m so sorry...” he apologized over and over again but I could see the way his eyes flashed red, every few seconds. His hands trembled and shook like he couldn’t wait to get them on me again and my skin crawled at the very prospect of it.

The guy had zero control. He couldn’t keep his shit together for a dinner date in public.

My mind flashed to Jungkook, how he’d barely batted an eyelash even while he was literally drinking from me and by contrast Mingyu looked like a snot faced, sniveling brat , desperate to have something he wasn’t entitled too.

I sighed in defeat, tamping down the urge to cry.

I hated this. Hated men like Mingyu who couldn’t see past what I was. Who couldn’t think past the idea that they would finally be able to drink from me, if they got me on a date.

“It’s alright. Should we order?” I said softly, my voice shaking just a little. i jumped when water spilled over my hands, Mingyu having knocked his glass over while reaching for the menu.

“Oh..Oh no.. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry...” He stood up, trying to grab the glass but the water had already spilled across the table dripping over the edge to my dress.

My brand new, Dior dress.

I turned, letting my horrified, miserable eyes flit to Jungkook.

I blinked, shocked at what I was seeing.

Jungkook was laughing, hard.

I fought the urge to grin myself as he grinned, shaking his head in disbelief, fingers pressed against his lips in sheer disbelief.

Well, I suppose it was a little funny.

Mingyu was on his feet, bowing over an over again muttering about how beautiful I was and how sorry he was and I decided to put him out of his misery.

Standing up, I bowed politely and stepped away.

“Mingyu ssi.... I think we should postpone this to another day.” I said gently.

He glanced at me, his eyes flashing red again and gaze dropping to my neck. Oh, for god’s sake.

“Can I have a taste though?” He said hopefully, holding a hand out to touch me and I flinched when his fingers closed on my wrist. .He yanked hard and I shrieked when his fangs came out, ready to sink into my skin.

Jungkook materialized between us like he’d been conjured out of thin air. He grabbed Mingyu’s wrist, squeezing till the younger boy howled in pain and yanked him back so hard I heard something pop in his shoulder. .

“Hands to yourself, Young Mr. Kim. I believe the lady said she would like to call it a night.” Jungkook growled into his face and Mingyu flushed.

“Yes..Yes of course.. As you wish, Ms. Hwang. Can I have your number? “ He whispered and oh god, this was just so excruciatingly embarrassing for everyone right now..

Jungkook stared down at him like he was an insect he’d accidently stepped on.

“You have to the count of five to get the fuck out of here kid.” He said drily.

Mingyu flushed even redder, bowing to me once more before grabbing his jacket and scarpering away.

I stared after him, completely stunned.

“Can you believe he’s going to be a lawyer?” I whispered.

Jungkook’s eyes met mine.

We both started laughing at the same time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This can’t be real. I refuse to believe, that what I witnessed was real.” Jungkook shook his head in disbelief as we waited for the valet to bring the car around.

I chuckled.

“You know what's actually unbelievable? But true?” I said softly.

Jungkook stared at me, eyebrows raised.

“That is actually, not the worst first date I’ve had.” I admitted , grimacing.

“Oh good god. “ He flinched.

The valet arrived and I watched Jungkook head over to the driver side, before climbing in myself. I scrubbed the water stains on my dress after putting on the seat belt. Jungkook reached over, fixing something on my side of the dashboard and I held my breath as his shoulders brushed my breasts, the scent of his cologne filling my brain and turning it to mush.

“so, what happened?” He asked settling back and I blinked.

“huh?”

“Worst first date?” He prompted , pulling the car out into the driveway.

“Oh... oh yeah. Freshman year of college. Agreed to date one guy...turned up at a hotel, he had three of his friends over.” I swallowed. “ They nearly killed me.”

The car nearly veered off the pathway, Jungkook having gripped the steering wheel too hard and jolted it to the side.

“Sera- what? The sheer horror in his voice was palpable.

“ They wanted a taste and I was an idiot back then I said okay just a taste for each of you...they were young...couldn’t control themselves .... so they just get drinking and well, I can usually let someone drink from me for a long time because my blood it sort of regenerates fast enough but...three people at the same time... I almost got exsanguinated.”

“Jesus fuck.! tell me those bastards are dead...” He snarled.

“My dad got them de-fanged.” I whispered. Jungkook flinched away as well. Being de-fanged was pretty much a death sentence because you couldn’t feed anymore.

“Serves them right. Three of them...what the fuck.” Jungkook shook his head, jaw clenched.

i swallowed.

“It’s kind of why I haven’t been with any Vampires. After that my dad got really protective of me and well, he doesn’t like the idea of me meeting strangers. I was actually pre med back then. I couldn’t handle it. I quit and well, dad hired tutors for me and I got my degree in Childcare. And that’s okay. I love kids..” I laughed.

“You’re amazing with them. I’ve never seen Joowon this happy.” He said gently.

“Its why I prefer staying with the clan. Only my family gets to feed from me occasionally because I don’t trust strangers to bite me, because they could lose control.”

The moment I said it, I regretted it. Jungkook’s eyes bore into me and i knew exactly what he was thinking. I didn’t trust people. Didn’t let anyone drink from me.

And yet, I’d let Jungkook drink from me. He wasn’t family. He wasn’t even a friend.

But he didn’t bring it up. instead he just sighed.

“It’s not an excuse, you know. “ Jungkook said softly.

“Hmm?”

“Being young, its no excuse. I’m not a born vampire which makes my instincts more potent and even dangerous but even in the first few months when I was turned... I never attacked anyone. Self control is a choice. That dude you met today... I doubt he gave a shit about you. Bastard just wanted a taste.... Could fucking see it in his eyes.” Jungkook sounded righteously upset on my behalf.

“Now you know why I’m attracted to you.” I said softly.

Jungkook froze.

“Sera, -”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” I said quickly, hating myself.

Jungkook didn’t reply.

Cursing myself for ruining the mood, I cleared my throat.

“I still don’t have to be home for a couple of hours. We could go somewhere else...” I suggested softly.

Jungkook gave me a small smile.

“I’m your bodyguard, Sera. If you choose to go somewhere , I’m kind of obligated to follow you.” He reminded me.

I flushed.

“Right.....yeah...yeah. of course.” I stumbled over the words, so reminiscent of Mingyu that I felt a little sick.

“So where to, Ms. Hwang?” He said casually.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“People can’t stop staring at us tonight .” Jungkook grumbled, glaring at a couple who had stopped their bicycles, just to gawk at him.

I laughed, tugging on his sleeve to pull him to a more secluded spot of the river bank, both of us looking distinctly out of place in a crowd of people dressed in comfortable clothes.

I hugged myself, watching the waves lap the river bank as I sat on a rickety wooden bench, a few dozen feet away from the water’s edge . The river looked especially picturesque today, reflecting the incandescent lights from Seoul’s skyline.

“It’s because we’re dressed like we’re presenting at the Oscars.” I grinned at him and Jungkook’s lips quirked in a small smile. He stood by, glancing around at the people watching by, occasionally at the river as well.

“This is nice. Do you come here often?” He asked , eyes skimming the city’s skyline , as he stuck his hands into his pockets.

I hummed.

“Sometimes. With Somi or Jimin. They like those ice lollies you get down the road.” I smiled. “ I brought the kids here one weekend and they had a lot of fun.”

Jungkook laughed.

“I bet they did. I should bring Joowon here someday.” He said thoughtfully.

“ I could pack you guys some lunch. Make it a picnic. “ I suggested and his gaze shifted to me thoughtful.

“That won’t be necessary Ms. Hwang. I’m sure one of the cooks will be able to do it.” He said evenly and I tried not to let the words sting.

“Of course.” I turned back to the river.

For a few minutes we didn’t say anything.

“Where were you? Before moving to Seoul?” I asked quietly.

Jungkook hesitated before moving around to settle next to me on the bench.

“Busan.” He said , staring out into the distance. “ I worked for a warlock there . For five decades nearly. His daughter was part vampire , part witch and well... I was lonely. “ His face showed a whole lot of regret, “ She had Joowon five years ago and tried to offer him as a blood sacrifice or something when he was born.” He grimaced.

“She what?” I said stunned.

He ran a palm over his face

"I didn’t want to do it but I had to kill her. Joowon was three months old and well, I had to quit my job soon after. Moved to one of the smaller villages nearby. Your father paid for my food and lodging. He wanted me to come over to the clan at once but I didn’t want to be a freeloader. When your father suggested you needed protecting, i thought it would be a good way to pay him back for everything.” He sighed.

“Did you know who I was?”

He gave me a look.

“Every Vampire with a dick knows who you are.” He said ith a dry smile and I flushed, looking away.

“Jungkook...”

“The most desirable of humans. The perfect mate. The unsullied jewel of the Hwang clan.”

He was laughing now, eyes warm and fond in the fading light of dusk and I found myself completely bewitched.

“Unsullied....” I shook my head. “ I can’t believe people know I’m a virgin.”

Next to me Jungkook went completely still.

I turned to him and there was no mistaking the stunned look on his face.

“What?!” I said feeling like my face was on fire. “ I told you I’ve never been with a Vampire.”

“I didn’t think you meant... “ He stopped, swallowing. “ Anyways its none of my business. Let’s talk about something else.”

Something wicked began to stir inside me.

“I’m saving it for the right man.” I said softly. And then I turned to stare right at him, long enough to get the point across.

He stiffened a bit more.

So i barreled on.

“These bumbling fools who can’t string two words together in my presence....They don’t deserve someone like me, don’t you think?” I prompted.

He swallowed again and I felt a sort of vindictive satisfaction. Just knowing that I affected him possibly just as much as he affected me. It soothed my bruised ego a bit, the way he refused to meet my eyes now, making up for his brutal rejection earlier. .

“I deserve someone amazing, don’t you think Jungkook?” I pressed on and he finally looked at me, eyes blazing.

“Only the best for you, princess.” He muttered holding my gaze. and I tried to ignore the way the nickname made warmth bloom all over my skin.

“Yes. Only the best. I don’t want any of these younglings with their fumbling hands and stammering words. I want a man. Someone who knows how to put me in my place.”

Jungkook gripped the bench hard the old wood splintering under his strength and I bit my lips.

“Someone who can be gentle, show me what I’ve been missing out on. Show me how good it can be with the right person, who can get me wet and wanting without even touching me...”

He exhaled sharply at that

“We should probably get-” he moved to get up but i was quicker. .

Not so fast, Mr. Jeon.

I scrambled over to him, climbing his lap and grinding down on him, before he could fully realize what I was doing. The impact took him by surprise and he grunted, settling back on the neck and hands gripping my thigh to stop me from toppling over.

“Sera-what” he looked furious but i pressed a palm to his mouth.

“Are you going to pretend you don’t understand what I’m asking for?” I demanded, heart pounding against my ribcage as I looped his tie over the wrist of my other hand, once , twice, giving it a yank so he had to bend over, his lips inches away from mine.

“And exactly what are you asking for, princess ?” He whispered, his breath warm against my lips.

“A teacher. Someone who can show me the ropes.”

“Ropes? For your first time....oh baby, you sure?” His eyes danced with mirth.

Not entirely sure what he was implying, I just stared back at him.

“You can do it. You can be my first. “ I brushed my lips against his, softly. it was barely a touch, hardly a kiss.

Jungkook stared at me, his hands lightly squeezing my thighs for one second, before falling to his sides again.

“The only first I’m going to be, is the first man to toss you into a fucking river, if you don’t get off me right now , Princess.” He said casually.

I stared at him, refusing to budge and he stood up anyway

i yelped, nearly landing on my butt before i managed to catch my balance.

He made to walk away but i grabbed his arm, pulling him close. And it was ridiculous, the fact that he came closer, the fact that he let me grab his wrist, bring them up to my waist.

“Please kiss me.” I begged.

“You don’t want this.” He said softly, hands rising up to brush the hair off my forehead and I gripped his shoulders levering myself up to press a kiss to his lips.

It was quick, over before it even began.

“That’s the only kind of kiss I’ve ever had. “ I said desperately “ It was a boy in college. He kissed me like that and then he asked me if he could bite me. I refused and he never talked to me again....”

“Sera...” He looked stricken and miserable and I let my fingers flutter to his collar, gripping it hard and yanking on it, feeling angry and upset and altogether miserable.

How ridiculous...that men all over the country tripped over themselves to be with me and yet here I was, reduced to a pathetic begging mess just for one measly kiss from this man.....

“ I want to be kissed. I don’t know how it feels to be kissed..to be wanted for something other than the blood that flows in my veins.... I just want someone to kiss me because they want to...because I’m beautiful and precious and i deserve to be kissed and -”

Fingers clamped over my arms, gipping me hard and almost lifting me off the ground as Jungkook pulled me up, my eyes fluttering shut just as his lips closed over mine, soft and tender and warm and wet and so delicious I couldn’t stop the moan that slipped out.

I let my hands fall to his chest, the soft smooth silk of his shirt felt like heaven underneath my fingers and through the thin fabric i could feel his heart, pounding against his ribcage. I ran my fingers over his torso, the strong muscles flexing beneath my fingers and my fingers crept up to grip his upper arm, the coiled strength in his bicep making my legs quiver.

He tasted like mint , his tongue licking the seam of my lips and begging entrance and my lips parted in surprise, the sensation so new and electrifying.

I gasped when I felt his tongue tangling with mine as he pressed in closer. I groaned , almost forgetting to breathe when Jungkook’s lower lips brushed mine, his teeth tugging the plump flesh of my lips harshly , biting down gently and my lips parted, giving him better access. He was so warm and strong and big and i couldn’t get enough of him, my body wanting nothing more than to stay pressed against his for the rest of our lives.

He used slow, subtle strokes of his tongue to taste me, gentle licks that made my head swim and it felt like I was drowning, in the heady taste of him . I felt weak as a kitten, my fingers scrambling up to grip his hair, tangling in the silky black locks, gripping to ground myself and i accidentally yanked a little too hard making him pull back, a little.

He laughed gently, right against my lips, the sound sexy and arousing and I groaned, chasing the taste of him and Jungkook obliged, nipping my lips again with his teeth , soft little pin pricks of pain and pleasure, before laving the abused skin with his tongue. His hand came up to cup my cheek, holding me in place as he kissed me deeper .

I could feel myself go weak in the knees, stumbling into him and he wrapped one arm around my waist holding my body up as he nibbled and teased and drove me insane with his touch.

Jungkook’s hand slipped, from my cheek, down to my neck, his fingers brushing back and forth on my bare shoulder before moving down, lightly gently brushing my breast .

I melted, gasping as he shaped the swell of my breast with his hand, thumb rubbing gently against the tip till my nipples pebbled up and I felt a sob build up, pulling away from him to catch my breath, gripping him hard and burying my face in his shoulders, overwhelmed and shaking.

“Darling... you alright?” Jungkook whispered, hands reaching up to stroke the back of my head and i clung to him, wrecked.

“Please don’t let me go.” I panicked when he made to move away and he froze at once, drawing me closer, hugging me tighter.

“I’m right here princess. You’re going to be okay.” His voice rumbled through my body and I willed myself to stop shaking but i couldn’t.

“What did you do to me...?” I asked hoarsely, my body thrumming.

He laughed, voice low and tinkling.

“I kissed you. You begged me to kiss you and I obliged.” He teased.

I shook my head against the fabric of his shirt, clutching his waist harder.

“That was not a kiss.” I snapped. “ That was...That was....attempted murder.”

Jungkook laughed harder at that,

“Take deep breaths, darling. Relax.... You’re going to be okay. Just catch your breath you’ll be fine.” He kissed the top of my head, gentle and fond and I closed my eyes.

“I need a few more minutes.” I said softly.

“ I’m right here. “ He whispered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook turned the car off and we both sat in the silence, staring straight ahead into the murky waters of the river. I was still in shock, my brain rendered entirely useless from one single kiss.

He had kissed me senseless.

Literally.

“I can’t give you what I want.” He said gently.

I bit my lips.

“I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.” I whispered.

He made a sound, a sharp little exhale.

“Fuck, Sera...you’re killing me.” He swore.

I clenched my fists. I was so scared, that this would be yet another rejection and I just knew that I couldn’t live without his kisses. Not now, when I knew just how amazing they were.

“I’m serious. I... I won’t ask you to court me or do any of that serious stuff. Just.. Just want you to touch me. Keep touching me. And kissing me. ” I finished stupidly.

Jungkook laughed a little.

“God, you’re so young... I feel like the worst kind of man for wanting this so fucking much.”

I felt my heart soar at that. it was the first time he’d acknowledged wanting me and i reveled in it.

“If we’re going to do this, I need you to understand exactly what you’re getting into.” He said softly.

I felt my heart begin to pound, a steady thrum that was so loud in my ears that I couldn’t fathom how he couldn’t hear it.

“This is going to be physical. Only physical. I don’t want you to dream of something that isn't going to happen. “ He said sternly.

I nodded.

It sounded like a recipe for a disastrous heartbreak but if i could get more kisses like the one I’d just had.... well, maybe I could deal with it when it happened.

“I’m the one who gets to decide when , where and how.” He turned to look at me and I met his gaze. “ i won’t have you trying to climb me in the mansion in front of everyone.”

i flushed.

“Fine. “ I snapped.

“You don’t stop meeting your potential suitors. You don’t turn them down without cause.”

I groaned.

“Jungkook...” i began but he held a hand up.

“Not all of them are going to be incompetents fools, Sera. There’s a guy out there good enough for you. “ He insisted , “ I’ll warm your bed till you find him, because you’re beautiful and I’m fucking weak” He shook his head, laughing without mirth, “ but... I won’t have you ruining your chances of making a worthy match. “

I nodded.

“Alright. Anything you say.”

He gave me another long look before starting the car.

“Okay. My room, tomorrow. After 11.00PM. Wear something I can take off easily.” He said drily.

I felt the grin creeping into my face, wide and shameless and he groaned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Jeon Junkook ssi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A chapter inspired entirely by jeon jungkook’s nipple in that blue shirt.

#jungkook fics #jungkook smut #jungkook vampire au #jungkook vampire #bts vampire au #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfics #bts smut #bts au #bts vampire #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #bts angst au

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

Text

my hero

— Walking alone in the middle of the night isn’t the best of ideas, but that’s okay, you had a hero waiting to save you.

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pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, pwp, exhibitionism, strangers fucking, dirty talk, praise, belly bulge, attempted kidnapping

word count: 5,197

a/n: and we’re back! sorry for the super late uploads, I hope you can forgive me. pls enjoy, I had fun writing it :D

kinktober day 18 main kink: exhibitionism | kinktober masterlist

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You really needed to stop walking the streets so late at night.

It was a bad habit you’ve grown in the past few months. Your building anxiety and untouched, restless energy made you bounce around your apartment. But you didn’t go anywhere, couldn’t do anything but pace from corner to corner.

The wood of your apartment floor must have been streaked with the dye of your socks, and you swore you could see the small indents from where you drag your feet to and fro your wall. The restless energy you had was untouchable, and your friends soon became worried about you. Eventually, after one night of taking a new 5,000 steps in the small living room of your apartment, your friend said to go for a run.

Sure, it was six in the evening, and yeah, maybe the spring night was cold, but Jesus fuck please, your pacing made them anxious. So, that’s how you began your journey of running at night because your once six pm runs evolved into eleven pm jogs. You had always been one to carry your pepper spray in your pocket and had a concealed sharp key in your fist as you ran. You were still prepared, even if you never ran into a situation that caused you to need either item.

But tonight was different as it always was.

You were dressed in your black joggers and a dark grey sweatshirt.

The slight chill of the fall night barely seeping into your skin that was hot with your exhaustion. It was late out, and as you went from a jogging pace and slowed into a stroll as you entered the park approximately two blocks away from your home, you stopped.

Stretching your arms over your head, you stretched out your slightly sore limbs and took in the tranquility of the park at night.

The park was a beautiful one, in your opinion.

It was thick with trees; every ten steps you took, there was a new tree. Wooden benches and picnic tables littered the floor and winding concrete everywhere, showing just how great the place could be to enjoy while the sun was out. There was a playground by the entrance you came through and a basketball court at the gate you exit from.

Altogether, it was beautiful and simple.

But as you pressed the sleeve of your sweatshirt to your forehead, wiping the beaded sweat on your skin, you froze when you heard the sound of leaves crunching behind you.

You froze as you turned around, your eyes wide and lips falling open when you saw a man stumbling toward you. There was no reason to panic, probably, you thought as he looked occupied on his own phone, his head down, his steps quick and focused. But there was no denying the small, almost horrible feeling that pooled into your stomach as you watched him approach nearer and nearer.

You grabbed the pepper spray that was in your pocket as a premature, ready to fight movement, your feet moving to get out of the path in case he tried to do anything. Your breathing was soft, not entirely too loud, but to you, It seemed to ring loudly in your ears as he got nearer and nearer.

He passed by you, his eyes not even trying to look your way as he went one step, two steps, three steps away from you. You wanted to sigh in relief about your stupid freak out; of course, it was nothing, it was always nothing, so there was no reason for you to freak out. But then he stopped, and you were too late to see the twitch in his shoulder, the way he spun around faster than you could scream and tackled you to the floor.

His hands were all over you, grabbing you, shoving his dirty, grimey hand into your mouth to silence you, fisting into your mouth so that even your biting, snapping closed jaw was stupid weak against him. Tears welled in your eyes as his knee buried into the center of your lungs, shortening your breaths as you struggled to get the pepper spray from your pocket.

You found that you couldn't.

You couldn't grab the canister from inside your pocket as the man's smile grew wider, terribly cunning as you struggled to do all that you could to get him off you.

Pathetic.

Useless.

Weak.

Tears began to stream from your eyes, the fear that twisted and rotted in your stomach festering like a stench as you cried against his fisted hand. You wouldn't be heard, wouldn't be seen. You were being assaulted with no way of being saved because no one went out here this late at night. You cursed your inability to do anything on time, cried that your dumb anxiety only felt better after running for an hour, and your lungs burned with the slowly depleting oxygen coming to your veins.

But just as your eyes were beginning to close, your hope and ability to wish for the best outcome was simmering into nothing but ashes and smoke, something large, hard, and fast knocked onto the man on top of you. You gasped for air as you immediately turned onto your side, your hands and knees buried into the dirt floor as you gasped and choked for air.

There, finally, was the sweet taste of grass and nature that filled your senses, but your watering eyes fell onto your attacker and the... the man?!

Your savior was another man.

His red hair still somehow easily discernible in the darkness of the night, and his large, strong muscled body absolutely punching and keeping your attacker down.

"What the fuck is your problem, man?!" your savior demanded, his hand grabbing the hair of your attacker and slamming his bruised and swollen face to the ground, the win most obviously won by your savior. You looked at the anger-fueled rage on your saviors’ face, the way his eyebrows were knitted together, and how his lips were pulled back into an angry snarl. The fight had been obviously won by your savior, and you couldn’t help but keep staring as the workout clothes clad savior took a few more deep, almost shaky breaths before he turned his gaze onto you. “H-Hey? Are you okay? Call the police, and I’ll keep on this bastard!”

“I-I’m fine!” your voice rasps, your hand rising shakily from the floor to softly rub your tender throat. “I’m fine, it’s okay! You can let him go!”

Your savior freezes, his eyes looking at you like you’re batshit crazy, and honestly, you probably are, but you don’t want to deal with writing up a police report or anything of that. It just wasn’t worth it since you ended up okay.

“You… do you want me to let him go?” your savior asks again, his eyebrows shot up, obviously not buying your words in the slightest.

You nod your head, you collapse down so that you’re sitting on your knees. Exhaustion is slamming into your body post the sudden demanding rush of adrenaline.

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” you smile weakly as your red-headed savior frowns. He sighs, obviously not in agreement with what you wanted to do, but he turned his attention back down to your attacker, who was still struggling against his weight and strength.

“You’re going to get the fuck out of here, or else I won’t hesitate to kick your ass and call the cops myself,” the man snapped, shoving the man further into the ground for good measure before climbing off of him. The red-headed angel walked in front of you. His considerable height incredibly intimidating to even you as the man on the floor wheezed before running off, his tail between his legs until the echo of his feet hitting the grass can no longer be heard.

“Wow, that was crazy,” he spoke softly to the wind, his hands resting on his hips before he turned his head to look at you, his eyes wide with concern. Even with the minimal light of the light post in the park and the moonlight that barely pierced through the canopy of tree leaves, you could see as clear as day that your savior was handsome. There was a scar over his right eye, and his red hair was styled and pushed back with a bandana. He had a windbreaker on and gym shorts but still looked ridiculously handsome. He turned to face you, crouching as he spoke, “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you flush, your eyes dropping to your dirt-covered hands that rest on your lap. “I’m fine now, at least. That was pretty scary, I have to admit.”

“Fuck, I bet,” the man agreed, his head nodding as he drops onto his butt. “I’m glad I decided to come through the park to get to my car today. Typically I walk all the way around this park.”

Indeed seemed like fate, you thought, your smile spreading small and thin on your face. “I was running; it helps with my restless energy. But, this is the first time anything like that has happened.”

“I’m sorry that had to happen at all,” he frowned, his face full of genuine remorse and guilt. “That was entirely cowardly of that asshole to do; I’m glad you weren’t hurt, though.”

“Ah, I got thick skin,” you slightly joke, enjoying the way the sweet smile spread on his face. Remembering your manners, your eyes shut, your head shaking slightly at your rudeness. “Um, I’m y/l/n y/n, though. Thank you for saving me from whatever that could have become.”

“Kirishima Eijirou!” the man cheerfully introduced himself too. “And it was no problem; literally, any good person would have done what I did!”

Modesty was somehow disgustingly, hotly attractive on the large, muscular stranger, and you wet your lips as you stretched your body closer to his. “It wasn’t just ‘no problem,’ though,” you state, matter-of-factly. “You quite literally saved my life; you’re a hero. You’re my hero.”

Although you couldn’t see the color flushing against his skin, you were without a doubt that he was blushing as profoundly as his hair if the riddled embarrassment in his eyes and face had anything to say about it.

“I-I, oh, aha, um, well, that’s very kind of you to say! I was just trying to be a manly guy, and really that was nothing?” Kirishima embarrassingly rambled, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as you found yourself drawing nearer and nearer to him.

Your warm hand found itself pressing onto his strong knee, your upper body leaning even closer to his flustered state. His eyes were shifting everywhere, not quite looking at you, but would linger on your body as you drew nearer and nearer. For some reason, you couldn’t help the jarring sense of attraction you had for your hero before you, the way the familiar warmth in between your legs made your voice hum as you grew nearer.

You wanted to show him just how grateful you were to have had him saving your life.

“That was nothing? You saving my life was nothing?” you tease, your words slow and thick on your tongue as you find yourself by his side, mouth brushing teasingly soft against his jaw.

“W-Well, of course not! It was a valuable life, don’t get me wrong! It’s just me doing that was nothing! I’m no hero!” Kirishima stammered, his voice in a soft whine as goosebumps flashed across his neck, where your breaths warmed his skin.

“Hm, that’s too bad,” you whisper, your tongue wetting your lips as you drew in closer. Your heart was hammering loudly in your ears, but you didn’t care, way too transfixed on the way the heat emitting from between your legs demanded Kirishima’s cock. “I like showing my gratitude to heroes in the world, ya know?”

His face finally turned to you, his wide eyes meeting your half-lidded ones in an electric gaze. No one spoke; only the softly chirping crickets and the wind brushing through the leaves made noises.

“Y-Yeah?” he whimpered out, his voice weak and caused great pleasure to crawl down your spine. “How do ya’ suppose you show your gratitude?”

You hum, thinking about it, but as the adrenaline from your attack finally was replaced with the blatant, blistering want for the huge red-headed man before you. You find yourself straddling his lap, slowly sinking onto him. Your knees once more buried into the soft, dewy grass of the park.

Your arms wrap around his neck, his eyes wide and incredibly expressive as his large hand’s press to your waist.

“Any way you crave me,” you speak with finality, placing the future of your actions into his hands.

“Holy fuck,” Kirishima curses, and without a second more of hesitation, his lips and mouth are crashing against yours.

There’s something unworldly attractive about making out with a practical stranger in the middle of a public park at nearly midnight. Your hands move possessively against his back, fingers digging into his fabric as he draws you nearer, your torso pushed tight against his. His lips move expertly against yours, the sharp points of his teeth dragging and biting into your bottom lip until he pulls away, your lip in his teeth, his eyes dark and full of lust. That lasts less than a few seconds as you’re back on him, mouth desperate against his, tongue curling into his mouth to move languidly, possessively against his.

His body radiates heat, the warmth of his body quickly seeping past the sweaty thickness of your own sweatshirt as your hips begin to roll against his growing bulge.

“S-Shit,” he gasps, your lips trailing down his hot neck, his throat muscles clenching as he gulps. Your smirk against his skin, sucking and nibbling on a concentrated spot as he helps you to roll your hips against his hot, thick length. “I-I don’t live nearby; it’ll be a bit of a drive.”

“I’m two blocks away,” you confess, pulling away from the dark purple and red bruise on his neck that makes you drunk with lust. “But I don’t think I can make it.”

Kirishima splutters, his hips instinctively bucking against your slowly throbbing core that sends your teeth biting into his thick skin again. “Do you wanna, fuckk… Are we gonna—?”

“Don’t tell me my hero is afraid to fuck in public?” you tease, your hands traveling down his tight, muscular torso. You admire the way you can feel his trembling abs against your hands, and you grin when his head dips backward when your fingers find their way against the waistband of his sweats, your weight shifting harshly against his cock as you tease along his upper crotch. “It’s late. No one’s around. I got a strong man to protect me. And I want him now,” you speak against his jaw, your lips pressing hot kisses between every sentence.

You notice that his eyes are red as your lips come up to brush against his, teasing the both of you as neither of you moves to seal your fates. Your position on the situation needs to be resolved, needing an answer from him.

“Whatcha gonna do, big guy?” you asked, lips ghosting against his, and at that moment, you shiver at the way his pupils expand to the edges of his iris.

His mouth is against yours in a renewed passion, lips pressing and pushing fervorously against yours, making you tremble in his arms, completely lust-taken. You kiss him back with equal force, hips rolling against his in your accepted need.

“Fuck, you know what you’re doing, huh?” Kirishima gasps the moment you grind your increasingly wet cunt against his mountain bulge in a way that has his hips snapping up towards yours. You laugh, teeth pressing onto his lower lip and pulling away, eyes focused on his through the curtain of your lashes before you let go of his lip.

“I aim to please,” you bat your lashes, your hands working their way under the waistband of his shorts. “Now, you want me to suck your dick, or what?”

You had never seen a man’s face go through such wild, intense agreement. The blackened look in his eyes and the way a shiver so obviously tittered down his spine had you smiling like a champion.

Mouths came back together in a blazing, needing kiss; you shift up onto your knees, the kiss becoming a clash of sharp teeth and simmering tongues. Blindly, your hands come down to his shorts and assist him in getting his pants off. Shock and amusement rushing through you the second you feel the top of his cock slap the back of your ass. The heat emitting from the skin burning through your own layer of clothes.

With your lips sucking onto his tongue, your hand moves behind you, grasping and pushing the throbbing, thick cock between your ass cheeks. And for a moment, for a few painfully slow grinds, you press him to your ass as you grind against him. Kirishima moans loudly, his hands shifting all over your body, fingers rubbing your skin from the dips of your hips to your soaking wet cunt.

The air is static, disgustingly hot that you swear with the heaving, panting breaths emitted from both of your mouths, you swear you can see the condensation.

“C’mon baby,” Kirishima rasps, his tongue finally permitted back into his mouth, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your throat. “I thought you were going to suck my dick?”

“What if I don’t want to anymore?” you gasp, your eyes fluttering closed, your thumb that is on his cock pressing onto the slit of his dripping cock. “What if I want you in me now?”

“Suck my dick with that pretty little mouth of yours, and I promise you — your hero promises you that I’ll fuck you better then any other fucker has,” Kirishima grunts into your skin, his biting kisses bruising your skin.

Well, you didn’t need to be told twice.

You shift backward, the tip of his pre-cum leaking cockhead spreading his pre-cum all over your own leggings. But that doesn’t faze you, nor do you care enough as you finally get to see the near monstrosity of a cock Kirishima has.

Long, thick, veiny, and with curly soft black pubes.

“Not a natural redhead?” you tease, your body leaning down, making sure to accentuate your breasts as you begin to slowly stroke his thick length. Kirishima can only shake his head as your tongue pokes out to give his swollen head a kitten lick. “Mm, I bet you look hot with black hair too.”

There’s no room for a second opinion for your mouth sinks entirely onto his length, just enough to be the slightest bit uncomfortable, but the results were immediate. Kirishima’s head slammed to the wood of the tree, his hands gripping your head as you bobbed against his length. The musk and scent of his dick were strong yet pleasant. You found yourself sinking lower and lower onto his size, pleased with the way he was tearing into his bottom lip to keep his ringing moans from being heard, his fingers tugging at the roots of your hair as he meets your sinking mouth in sloppy, restrained thrusts.

Your tongue traced the bulging veins on his length, swirling and twisting around his girth, a desperate attempt to show that his size didn’t scare you, that you were taking him all in. But his lust clouded gaze on you thrilled you. The pure, unadulterated passion that settled on his eyes and gaze made you shiver; he was so responsive, moaning, and gasping for you in every right action you made. But you want to get bigger, bolder reactions out of him, and closing your jaw just the slightest bit, you let your lower teeth scrape just gently against his sensitive skin.

The result was immediate, and much wanted.

Despite the immediate relaxation of your jaw and throat, Kirishima burying his entire length down your throat made you choke, gagging as your nose buried into his pubes. He was entirely large, uncomfortably thick in your throat as your muscles flexed and fluttered around him.

“Take it, take me all in,” Kirishima gasps, his hips shifting into small, tiny thrusts to ram his cock further and further into your awaiting mouth. “That’s i-it, holy fuck, that’s it! You are so good at this shit, baby. F-Fuck… you’re amazing! So fucking perfect!”

The praise makes you whine, the drool that seeps from your mouth helpless and joined with the tears of discomfort from your eyes. But you continue to impress him, continue to let him fuck your mouth and throat wholeheartedly without restraint or worry.

Soon, the wet gagging noises fill the air, your throat feeling raw as Kirishima is unashamedly fucking into you with more significant, more powerful intent. He praises you without hesitation, the words curling warmly into your gut, making your cunt throb and demand attention as you hollow your cheeks. Kirishima nearly howls at the vacuum sensation, the lustful, long noise growing in his lust as you raise up to his cockhead, your tongue lashing around the salty pre-cum that is weeping from his swollen tip.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, wait!” Kirishima gasps, his hips bucking wildly, trying to go further into your mouth again. But your grip and commanding are more robust than he could ever be, and he can’t sink his cock further into the wet heat he so craves. “Wait, wait, wait! I want to cum in you, baby! Please let me cum in you!”

You’re off him immediately with a sharp, loud pop.

His eyes are unashamed in his request, and you think about the issues of an absolute stranger busting a nut inside of you. Your tongue dips out of your mouth to lick the pre-cum that’s dribbled onto your lower lip, and you whine at the back of your throat.

“O-Okay.”

His response to your approval is immediate.

You shriek in slight fear when he tugs you up onto your feet, twisting you and shoving your back against the cold hardness of the tree he was resting upon. Your breathing is unsteady, heart absolutely pounding in your throat as his lips consume yours again. Just as you did before, you melt into his kiss, his touch as his hot, calloused fingers shove your shorts down your legs, exposing your throbbing, wet cunt to the cold air.

Hissing at the contact, you feel your voice being smothered by a wet moan that escapes your mouth. Kirishima has his cock rutting between your wet folds, his fingers leaving lasting bruises on your waist.

“Want you so badly, baby,” he grunts, his mouth swallowing your moans and pitched whines as you grind against him, shaking against his hold. “Want to see you take me all the way in.”

“Put it in,” you keen, hips bucking and thrusting faster and faster against his waiting cock, your actions pathetic and needy. “Put it in Kiri, I want you in me, fuck me already, please fuck me.”

In what you could only describe as being the strength of god, Kirishima lifts you up, hands shifting from your soft waist to the mounds of the flesh of your ass and pressing you into the tree. You squeak, embarrassed, and entirely self-conscious of your weight despite the lust haze clouding your mind. Your struggle in his arms is fruitless, his broad, thick chest pressing up against yours as you find your mind absolutely melting when his thick cockhead pushes against the clenching wet cavern of your cunt.

“P-Put me down,” you gasp, squirming despite the fire that burns in your core and cheeks. “I-I’m too—”

“I’m your hero,” Kirishima speaks calmly, his forehead pressing against yours, eyes locking on yours in such a way that was too intimate for strangers, too world-shifting for two unknowns. “I can carry you just easy, ya know. These muscles aren’t just for showing off.”

The grin on his face is childish, almost too boyish if it wasn’t for the fact that his eyes held that profound, pristine promise and want for you. So, in an action that has your back arching against the wood, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your legs tightened firmly around his waist as he buried his cock into you.

Melodious moans echo between your mouths, horribly silenced by your crashing mouths because, dear god, you’re fucking in a public park.

He kisses you with a passion and a soul that strips you bare, and his hips begin to fuck up and into you without hesitation, the full feeling in your core stretching and fluttering with every driving intent from him. In and out, his cock goes into you, up and down your hips grind against him.

It’s a synchronized dance, a coming of your bodies that sends your toes curling as he begins to fuck into you just a bit harder, just a tad faster. It makes you shiver, makes your fingernails bury into his skin as you moan and beg for his name.

Kirishima curses as you clench around him, his hand grabbing your wrist and slamming it onto the tree, holding it there as he fucks you with growing strength and speed. Every snap of his hips sends a burst of colors to the back of your eyelids, and every squelch of your meeting, sloppy wet sexes sends a blabbering, incoherent sentence from your lips.

“More, more, more,” you beg, the tree trunk absolutely uncomfortable against your skin, but you can’t feel it anymore; you don’t care about the pain. You crave it, you want it. “Give me more.”

The curve of his cock, the girth, and the veins that drag up and down your puffy velvet walls are driving you insane. He holds insane power with every admittance of his cock in your clenching cunt, and he buries his nose into the crook of your neck and nods his sweaty head.

“Can you take it? You gonna be able to take my cock fucking you entirely?” Kirishima gasps, almost as if he was afraid of hurting you, and for some reason, that makes your brain shut down.

Fingers buried into the dyed red hair at the nape of his neck, you tug his head back, your legs tightening around his waist so much that he can’t fuck you anymore. The both of you are there, staring at one another as you hold him, bottomed out in you, your stomach stretching just a bit from having him entirely within you.

“If you don’t fuck me with everything you have,” you breath, your nose brushing against his, lips avoiding his that seek yours out for contact. “I’ll scream.”

“You seem like a brat,” Kirishima teases, his hold shifting on your ass, pressing you even more uncomfortably onto the tree.

“I’m just a girl who knows what she wants,” you bite back, allowing him to shift your arms so that you were supporting part of your weight onto the tree, allowing for a better balance.

“Brat,” Kirishima enunciates, his lips spreading into a teasing, seductive smirk.

But before you could fight back, before you could argue that you were, in fact, not a brat, Kirishima begins to fuck into you yet again. Your jaw drops immediately, the burning nearly exquisite pain-filled pleasure of his untapped strength fucking into you.

Your voice begins to scream out, the feeling of his vicious, thick cock snapping into you, shoving your shoulders further and further into the tree was sending your head spinning. Your body is convulsing as he fucks you with new vulgar need and strength. But before you could scream your praises, Kirishima’s fingers shove into your mouth, silencing your words and noises as he fucks you again and again and again.

“You’re so fucking loud, baby,” Kirishima chuckles, his voice strained with his exertion of energy, his hips slamming so powerfully into your clenching core that his balls were slapping against your soring ass with no restriction. “So fucking loud, but we’re not in the place for you to be wailing my name unless you want to be caught. Do you wanna be caught, is that what it is?”

You shake your head pathetically against his fingers, your tongue lazily swirling and inserting itself between his parting fingers as you moan. Your head is spinning, the overstimulation of his conquesting cock, the rising orgasm in you, and the thought of someone walking through the park and seeing the two of you fucking under the yellow light of the park light making your walls flutter. His cock twitches with the flutter, and the both of you moan inexplicably loud.

“Such a good wet cunt,” Kirishima gasps, his fingers beginning to reciprocate the length and rhythm of his pounding cock in your throat, something you take without a second of hesitation or doubt. “I’m so glad I got to be your hero today, aren’t you so glad?”

“Mm-mhmm,” you gag around his fingers, your hips bucking with near madness as your vision swims with lust and need. You were so happy that he found you, so delighted he saved you, that he was your hero.

But the building tightness and demanding need in your cunt was growing louder, hotter, completely undeniable. Your teeth sinking against his skin as you whimpered loudly, absolutely pathetically as you shifted faster, fucking against him harder.

“C-Close,” you manage to gag out, and a sharp escape of air comes from his nose.

Kirishima nods, removing his fingers from your mouth, the string of cold saliva dangerously cold against your blazing hot chin. “I want you to look at the way your belly bulges when I fuck you, I want you to watch it bulge as you cum, baby.”

You whimper, the strain in your neck almost insufferable as you peer down at your hastily exposed stomach, and you nearly faint at the pornographic, near-insane image of your stomach bulging with his hammering cock. And just like that, you come tumbling down from the heights of your building orgasm. White heat and light spread through your body, your jaw slacking as you moan loudly, screaming his name as you convulse against him, body entirely limp. Kirishima, who was barely hanging by a strand, completely loses it when your core clenches like a vice against him.

Hot, thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock, his heavy, shaking gasps the only thing you can hear as he fucks into you once, twice more for good measure before the both of you sink to the grass. It’s hot, almost too hot as he lays on top of you, the sticky fluid of his cum radiating against your already blazing walls, and for a bit, there’s silence.

“So um,” you rasp after a moment, the silence warm and comfortable. “You gonna walk me home?”

“Depends,” Kirishima mutters into your sweaty neck.

“On?”

“Will you give your hero your number?”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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hazzasgayvodka · 4 years ago

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Panty Thief - Harry Styles

So this is kind of a trial run for this fic, I’m inclined to make this a series but I’m not sure how the response to it will be. I have lots of ideas for more parts to this but only if it’s what the people want haha. Here is my belated Valentine’s Day gift to all you lovelies I hope you enjoy this heavy daddy kink/dom harry fic I’ve been working on for ages!

p.s. everyone say thank you Nathan for giving me lots of smut inspiration this is literally based on him sorta

pairing: daddy!harry x oc

warning: sexual content, smut, daddy kink/dom vibes so if you’re not here for that this is not for you

word count: 5k

In which Harry is a new student at Harley’s university and he seems to just keep popping up everywhere. The tension between them is palpable and she can’t get away from him, especially when he happens to knock on her door with a pair of her favorite red lace panties she left in the laundromat dangling from his finger.

I roll my eyes as the lady in front of me in line takes out yet another handful of coupons from her purse at the checkout counter. The cashier looks almost as annoyed as I am, but still sporting a smile despite the absolute exasperation rampant in her eyes. She takes the handful of coupons and starts scanning them begrudgingly as the woman digs around in her purse for anymore and I hardly even notice my foot tapping as my eyes instinctively roll once again. I just came to get toilet roll, ice cream, and a bottle of prosecco and the universe decides today is the day coupon Karen ends up at the checkout line five minutes before I do.

“I like your hair.” A voice speaks up behind me.

I know they must be talking to me, I don’t believe any other boring college blonde in this line warrants a compliment like that but the bright purple curls I sport tend to elicit quite the reaction from bystanders, especially the uninteresting conservatives of Publix.

“How do you uh, get it that color?”

I finally turn my head over my shoulder to face the voice, a tall guy with tousled brown hair and quite the shit eating grin on his face. He’s obviously very pleased with himself finally getting me to turn around but I can’t be bothered to entertain this excited puppy of a man with more than a word.

“Dye.”

I’ve barely even gotten the word out of my mouth before I turn back to face the cashier with an uninterested eyeroll. He scoffs behind me, clearly not giving up that easily.

“Wow,” He chuckles, “At least you’re straightforward.”

I turn back around without thinking to face him once again, “Hair dye, idiot.”

“Oh, well I could have guessed that much.”

I turn away from him again just as coupon lady finally pushes her rattling cart towards the exit doors and the cashier gestures for me to come up to the checkout. I drop my basket on the conveyor belt with a thud and she rings it up quickly, sensing my impatience and clearly wanting to get me the hell out of here as quickly as she can. I pay and grab my bags to head for the door and just before I’m home free the voice is suddenly behind me yet again.

“So, are you really not going to tell me?” He asks, catching up to me outside, “It’s going to keep me up tonight, I’m waiting with bated breath over here.”

“Tell you what exactly?” I huff, finally turning to face him.

“How you get your hair that color, of course.”

I roll my eyes, surely, he’s not keeping this bit up for the sake of hitting on me in the fucking supermarket, “Do you want something from me?”

He chuckles a bit, and I’m glad to see my utter frustration is amusing to him, “I mean,” He starts, rubbing the back of his neck, “Maybe your name would be cool.”

“No thanks.”

“Well, I’m Harry-“

I turn and walk away before he’s barely got the sentence out of his mouth. What was he even in line to buy? He wasn’t carrying any bags.

Mental note: always wear headphones to the grocery store.

***

“You’re late.”

I collapse in the seat next to my friend Danielle with a huff. She gives me a certain look that says something like you’ve been late the past three times too, but honestly at this point she should know to expect it.

“I’m always late,” I groan, attempting to lean back in the incredibly uncomfortable library chair, “So, why are we at the library?”

“We have a math test tomorrow, or did you forget about that?” She asks, scolding me over the top of her math book.

“Of course I remembered,” I say sarcastically, “Math is my absolute favorite subject how could I ever forget we had a test?”

She rolls her eyes, turning her book to the right page to start taking notes and I try my best to follow along, “So do you have a legitimate reason for the lateness or just regular Harley excuses?”

“Actually, I do,” I say matter-of-factly, sitting back up straight in my chair, “There was a freak at the grocery store, dude would not leave me alone.”

“What was he doing?” She asks, suddenly interested.

“Just talking? I guess? He like wanted to have a whole conversation waiting to check out.”

“So, a nice guy just struck up some conversation with you at the store and that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes,” I huff, closing the book once again, “I was just there to get groceries I didn’t need the extra human interaction.”

She opens her mouth to reply but she’s cut off as a group of guys walk in the front door of the library talking at full volume. I can feel almost every person in the room turn in the direction of the loud noise at the front and suddenly my eyes land on him. There’s no fucking way.

“Dani,” I whisper, sliding down in my seat so I can go unseen, “Dani that’s the guy, the guy from earlier.”

“What?” She whispers harshly, trying not to stare as the boys get scolded by the librarian at the front, “You mean grocery store guy?”

“Yes!” I huff, electing to sit in my chair backwards so my back is to him.

“No way Harley, it just looks like him-”

“No Dani, it’s him,” I whisper, “Tall one with the curly hair in the black hoodie.”

“That’s him?” She asks, “You had a problem with that talking to you?”

“Shh!” I huff, “God he’s going to hear you, are they still at the front?”

“They um, yeah,” She stutters, her eyes diverting to her book again, “They’re still up there, at a table now.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask, sensing the discomfort in her voice and turning around myself.

My eyes immediately lock onto his and I look away quickly, shielding my face from him with my hand and turning back towards Danielle.

“He’s staring right at you.” She says, trying not to be too obvious.

“Yep.”

“Are you gonna go over there?”

“Why would I do that exactly?” I ask, my eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“Because a hot boy is staring you down across the fucking library!” She whispers harshly, reaching over to smack me in the arm.

“More like a fucking psychopa-”

“Hey there,” I hear his voice cut in and my whole body cringes in on itself without my volition, “Fancy meeting you here.”

I turn around in my chair, forcing myself to face him while my whole face heats and I’m sure I’m the color of a rather ripe tomato. Something about the way he says hey there in that fucking accent makes my entire body tense up.

“Hey there,” I mimic, “Long time no see.”

I feel Danielle’s eyes on me as the words come out of my mouth, her gaze flickering between the two of us and watching the horrifically awkward exchange play out in front of her.

He laughs, electing to lean on the table, “What are you doing after this?”

“She’s doing absolutely nothing.” Danielle answers for me and I kick her under the table, making her wince.

“Glad to hear it,” He grins, his eyes zeroing in on me once again.

“I’m very busy actually,” I cut in, closing my textbook and throwing it in my bag, “We both are, but um, I’ll see you around.”

Danielle is looking at me with eyes the size of dinner plates as she frantically packs up her stuff, shoving it in her bag to follow suit. I stand up from my chair, slinging my bag over my shoulder and he rounds the table to stand right in front of me, the only thing between me and the front door.

“Can I at least get your name?” He asks, his voice incredibly deep clearly for only me to hear.

“Harley,” I quip, side stepping around him, “See you later uh, Harold is it?”

He gives me a very particular look as I walk away from him, taking steps backward and relishing in the smirk on his face. He knows what I’m doing. I feel Dani’s hand grab my arm and I finally turn around to face the door, walking through it, but even as I’m outside and carrying my feet down the steps I feel his eyes on me, drilling into the back of my head.

“The hell was that?” Danielle asks, “He was so cute and you just, you just blow it like that?”

“Harmless flirting.”

“You call that flirting?”

“Oh Dani,” I sigh, taking out a cigarette and lighting it between my lips, “I call that winning.”

***

I’m woken up with a start when I hear the loud roar of music start from Dani’s room. She always blasts music in the morning while getting ready for class. I look over my shoulder to check the time, at least she waited until 10 to start with the noise. My head is pounding ever so slightly, and I realize why when my eyes land on the empty bottle of pink Moscato on my bedside table.

I drag myself out of bed and into the tiny common space between our two rooms, “Good morning sleeping beauty,” Danielle teases, “I noticed the bottle of wine went missing from the fridge.”

“That’s bizarre,” I joke, “Must be a wine thief in the dorms. I’ll get on that mystery right away.”

She shakes her head at me, rolling her eyes as I grab my basket of laundry from my room. I slide on a pair of slippers electing to go put it in the wash, so I hopefully have a single clean pair of jeans for class tonight. I call to Dani letting her know I’ll be right back and as soon as I open the door to the hall I’m staring at him.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” I groan.

He stops dead in his tracks, taking a glance over his shoulder to see me standing in my doorway. He’s dressed in only a towel, holding it closed while it hangs low on his hips. His hair is wet, clearly making his way back to his room from the showers and his chest and arms are rippling with muscles under his damp skin.

God those arms could crush me like a grape.

“Morning neighbor,” He grins, clearly getting a kick out of this, “Someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?”

“You’re in this building?”

“You bet, room 7C down the hall.”

“Well, neighbor, for future reference, most people in this building take their clothes to the shower with them.”

“You Americans,” He chuckles, starting to walk away from my doorway, “So prude, have a nice day Harley.”

He disappears down the hall and then behind his door and my mind gets to work on picturing what he looks like without the towel. You can nearly feel the tension between us in the air, it was palpable. I could even feel his eyes on me, looking me up and down and lingering on my lips. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to clear my head as I take a deep breath and start on my way to the laundry room downstairs.

I put a load in the wash, briefly tuning into the dramatic soap playing on the tiny TV hung on the wall. I decide to head back to my now empty room since Danielle left for class and end up wasting most of my day away on a bad Netflix original movie, only pausing half way through to go move my clothes to the dryer.

I order a pizza for dinner before my night class and go back downstairs to grab my laundry out of the dryer. Just as I’m opening the dryer and emptying my clothes back into my basket I get a text that the pizza guy is downstairs waiting for me.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I huff under my breath, quickly shoving all my clothes in my basket and slamming the dryer shut behind me.

I rush back to my dorm, chucking the basket of clean clothes inside before heading to the stairwell and nearly sprinting down them to get to the ground floor. I meet the rather impatient pizza guy downstairs before bringing the food back up to my room. I’ve just barely finished the first slice half way through a Criminal Minds episode when there’s a knock at the door. I groan, dragging myself from the couch and tossing the blanket off.

I open the door, rolling my eyes, “Dani, you have got to start remembering your key when you-” I’m cut off as I come face to face with him rather than Dani, “Oh, um, hi?”

“Hi,” He repeats, now dressed in a pair of grey joggers and a plain black t-shirt, “I believe you dropped something in the laundry room earlier.”

He reveals his arm from behind his back, holding out his hand with my bright red lacy thong dangling from his pointer finger. I can feel my entire face heat to match the shade of my panties, but I won’t let him get the satisfaction. I go to snatch them from his hand, but he stops me, gripping them in his fist instead and using them as leverage to pull me a bit closer to him.

“Probably want to be a bit more careful where you leave your panties lying around, darling,” He smirks, “Unless you want to leave them on my bedroom floor of course.”

It’s the final straw, those few words spoken in his deliciously deep voice absolutely dripping with that amazing accented tone, on top of the way he’s dressed, every muscle visible beneath the fabric of his t-shirt. I don’t know what I’m doing until I’m pulling him to me by my own grip on the lacy underwear between us, my mouth meeting his and his teeth instantly biting my bottom lip between them.

“Yours or mine?” He breathes out, pulling away from me just long enough to get the words out.

“Where’s your roommate?” I ask breathlessly.

“Vacation,” He says, “Till Wednesday.”

“Yours,” I laugh, pressing my lips back to his, “Definitely yours.”

He walks me backwards down the hall to his dorm room, shoving me up against the wall as he unlocks the door, his lips working down my neck. As soon as the door is open he walks me through it, bending down to grab the backs of my thighs and hoisting me into the air. He kicks the door closed with his foot and I laugh against his mouth as he carries me past his bedroom doorway, slamming that behind us as well.

He lays me out on the bed, nearly tossing me right on top of the mattress, my lacy red underwear still gripped in his hand.

“Any chance you got something this cute under there?” He chuckles, holding them up in both hands to really show them off.

“Why don’t you come find out?” I tease.

He rolls his eyes, finally kneeling onto the edge of the bed and crawling over to me. He starts to lean over me, but I shove his shoulder, forcing him to lay against the mattress before swinging my leg over him. I can feel him underneath me immediately and it makes my legs clench together on either side of him.

“Hi,” I breathe, planting my hands on his chest and meeting his eyes.

“Hi,” He repeats back to me, that bright smile of his making my stomach flip, “You gonna come down here or...?”

“Oh, shut up,” I laugh finally leaning down and connecting our lips once again.

His lips are ridiculously soft against mine while the feeling of his muscles under his t-shirt are quite the opposite. He reaches up to cup my face with both hands, trying to somehow pull me closer as if we aren’t close enough as it is. I can’t figure out exactly where I want to put my hands; his shoulders, his biceps, god, in that amazing curly hair.

My hips start to move against him without my volition and he groans into my mouth, a deliciously deep reverberation that makes me grind my hips into him even more. He grunts against my lips, finally pulling away and resting his forehead against mine instead, breathing heavily.

“You alright there tiger?” I tease him, threading my fingers through his hair, “Need a breather already?”

“Shut your mouth,” He chuckles, grabbing me around the waist and trying to flip us over so he’s on top.

He greatly underestimates the size of his twin dorm bed when he does so, both of us rolling off the edge and tumbling to the shag carpeted floor beneath us. I expect the mood to be ruined, for him to get up and usher me right out the door because how awkward is this, right? I’m beyond surprised when he starts laughing, both of us splayed flat on our backs and heaves out a sigh as he rolls over to face me again.

“That was pretty smooth of me, eh?” He jokes, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, chuckling too, “No I’m okay, just gonna have a massive bruise on my ass most likely.”

He laughs again, finally pulling himself to his feet and offering me a hand to help me up. I’m not sure what I expect past that, maybe a hug to send me on my way now that the atmosphere has completely changed but that tension is still between us, the same tension that’s been building since the moment he said a single word in the supermarket.

The second I’m back on my feet he shoves me onto the bed and I can’t even begin to hide the shock in my features. He’s back on top of me in seconds, his lips pressed to mine and I’m sure the surprised whimper that leaves my mouth fuels his ego to the gods.

“You alright there tiger?” He mocks, and I resist the urge to reach up and slap him.

“Careful.” I quip, pulling away from him to meet his eyes.

“Careful?” He asks, quirking up his eyebrow at me, “I’m sorry are you telling me what to do sweetheart?”

I gulp, the smooth but stern voice he’s using making my thighs quiver. He seems to notice, his eyes darting down between us and a small chuckle escaping his lips. He looks back up at me, his eyes dark and brooding, before they flicker to my hands at my sides. He grabs my left wrist roughly, holding it above my head against the mattress before doing the same to my right arm as well. I’m nearly squirming underneath him, my entire body steaming to the touch as his eyes bore into mine.

“Something wrong, love?” He asks, the condescending tone to his voice making my whole body shake.

“Course not,” I pant, my breath coming out heavier than I anticipated, “Just fuckin peachy over here.”

He chuckles a bit, his grip on my wrists growing tighter, “You’re not very patient, you know that?”

I’m not sure what it is that’s making me writhe the way I am; perhaps it’s the countless months I’ve gone without sex since my last messy breakup, or maybe it’s the way in which this all panned out with a stranger over some fucking underwear, or fuck, maybe it’s just him and the way that cocky smirk on his face makes my insides twist.

“Patience is a virtue,” I say carefully, making sure to keep my tone even, “I’m more about vices.”

His left hand releases my wrist and I prepare myself for his hand reaching where I need him most, sucking in a breath between my teeth and letting my eyes flutter closed but it never comes. My eyes peel back open to see his hand hovering over my neck instead. He meets my eyes before his fingers finally grace the skin of my throat, applying just the slightest bit of pressure almost as if to test the waters.

I’m nearly dizzy as he does so, the temperature in this room suddenly a million degrees. He removes his hand again, the pressure around my throat leaving me and I whimper in distaste, making him chuckle again.

“Poor thing,” He chastises, my legs clenching together on either side of him, “I can’t do it all though, if only there was a way I could hold down both your wrists and choke that pretty neck.”

I watch his hand dig into the pocket of his joggers and once again pull out the thin red lacy fabric of my panties, holding them between us.

“Mind if I use these?” He asks, clearly knowing the answer but wanting to get a reaction out of me anyways.

“Yes, god,” I gulp, “Please.”

He grabs my hands, moving them completely above my head before wrapping the panties around them a few times, tying them together. He tugs on them a bit to make sure they’re pretty secure before looking back down at me, his eyes completely blown out in lust, his pupil swallowing his surrounding iris.

His lips are back on mine in seconds, his now free hands roaming my body before one hand rests on my neck, gripping the sides and applying a bit more pressure than the last time. I whimper into this mouth and curse myself for doing so as soon as my eyes flutter open to see that cocky smirk on his face once again.

“Eager, sweetheart?” He teases, and my hand reaches up to smack him before I remember I’m bound in a pair of my own underwear, “Ah, ah, be a good girl and stay still.”

Hearing the words good girl come out of his mouth makes my entire body squirm and he grins again, that lopsided condescending grin and I know he’s getting off on this, making me writhe underneath him. He leans down to kiss my stomach, hiking my shirt up as he goes before working his way down and tugging my pants down my legs. I hold my breath in anticipation but when I look down the bed to meet his eyes he simply kisses the inside of my thighs, ghosting his mouth over the thin fabric of my panties.

“Fucking please,” I beg, my breath coming out in heaves, “Is this some kind of joke to you?”

“Please what, princess?” He asks, my legs threatening to squeeze his head between them, “Tell me what you want, hm?”

“You cocky bastard,” I huff, my mind getting fuzzier by the second the closer he gets to my center, “You know what I want.”

He stops abruptly, sitting back up from his small assault on my inner thighs, “What did you say, love? Care to repeat that? Couldn’t quite here you down here.”

There’s an edge to his voice, like glass, it cuts right through me and makes my thighs quiver, “N-no,” I stutter, “Didn’t say anything.”

“That’s what I thought,” He grins, leaning back down between my legs, “Now be a good girl and tell me what you want me to do to you.”

I suck in a breath sharply, but I won’t let him know how his words affect me, “Oh daddy,” I mock, rolling my eyes, “Need you so bad.”

He grabs me by the ankles, flipping me onto my stomach and sends an echoing smack to my ass, the stinging sensation that radiates afterwards making my toes curl. He flips me back onto my back, his dangerously dark eyes meeting mine as he spreads my legs apart once again, holding my thighs down against the mattress.

“Want to try that again, princess?”

“Fuck,” I gasp, the edge to his voice making the whispered swear fall from my mouth involuntarily, “Um, yes.”

“Yes what?” He growls, leaning down to hold my jaw in his hand, his eyes drilling into mine waiting for a response.

“Yes daddy.”

“Now you’re getting it, good girl,” He grins, his hand that was gripping my jaw moving to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, “Now open up,” I oblige, slowly opening my mouth and he pushes his middle and ring finger past my lips. It catches me a bit off guard, but he only nods his head, “Get them nice and wet for me love, don’t want to hurt you.”

He pulls them from my mouth, a small string of saliva connecting them to my lips. He chuckles a bit, clearly getting a kick out of how worked up I am for him before finally pushing my panties to the side and pressing his fingers into me. I instantly turn my head to the side, muffling the moan that escapes my mouth into my pillow. As soon as he realizes what I’m doing he grabs me by the hair, holding my head straight.

“None of that,” He says sternly, “Wanna hear your pretty sounds, babygirl.”

I’m dangerously close to the edge just from the words pouring from his mouth in that accented tone that makes my entire body shiver. That condescending smirk finds its way back to his lips and I know that he can tell I’m close, just teetering on the edge already.

“Needy little thing, are we?” He teases, “Already gonna cum and daddy’s barely touched you yet.”

His words are almost just enough to push me over the edge, but I hold off as much as I can, straining away from his touch as much as I can with my hands bound above my head and his weight on top of me. I feel the particular twist in my stomach, that burning sensation in the very pit of my abdomen just as my eyes squeeze shut and my vision goes white. His fingers work me through it, his mouth finally hovering over where I need him most, sucking my sensitive bud into his mouth and making me shake.

I feel his fingers withdraw from me and suddenly he’s pushing them past my lips once again, but this time I taste myself on them, swirling my tongue around each one to suck them clean. I meet his eyes as he pulls them from my mouth and my hips involuntarily buck up to meet the bulge prominent in his pants.

“Still needy, are we?” He chuckles.

“Please shut up and take your pants off already.” I beg, my hips bucking up to meet him again.

“You see I would but,” He starts, sitting back on his heels, “It seems I don’t have a condom, would you happen to have one?”

“Would I, no, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” I stutter breathlessly, my blood starting to boil in disbelief, “What kind of guy doesn’t keep a pack of rubbers around you idiot?”

“Careful,” He warns, his voice dropping into that deep calculated tone that makes me shiver, “And perhaps a guy that just moved in this week and hasn’t necessarily had buying rubbers on the mind,” He says, “That is until he met a spunky purple haired girl in the supermarket.”

His words make my stomach do a few somersaults, but I don’t let it extinguish the pissed off fire burning in my stomach knowing that I won’t be getting the relief I desperately need right now.

“You’re serious?” I ask, “You don’t have any?”

“Serious, darling,” He chuckles, “But instead of moping about it, you’re going to take what I give you and say thank you daddy when I’m done, understand?”

I nod my head vigorously, despite wanting to do the exact opposite. What kind of hold does that goddamn accent have on me?

“Good,” He smiles, clearly pleased with my response, “And maybe if you’re a good girl next time daddy will remember to hit the store.”

“Next time?” I ask, not filtering the shock from my voice.

He laughs a bit, reaching up to finally untie my hands, “Yes, next time, did you want this to just be a one-time thing, princess?”

I can’t form the words I want to say as I sit up a bit, rubbing my wrists only slightly from the rough fabric of the lace wrapped around them, “I um, I don’t-”

“That’s what I thought,” He smirks, standing from the bed and holding out a hand to me, “Now come on, didn’t you get pizza?”

I smile, taking his hand and starting to stand to my feet, my legs a bit wobbly and I’m thankful for the stability of his arm to lean on.

“Do you have anything to uh,” I start, cringing when I feel the wetness in between my thighs, “Clean up with?”

“Nope,” He says cheerfully, “You keep that pretty mess I made between those thighs, babygirl.”

My knees nearly buckle, and I’m cursing him for his lack of condoms and the ache between my legs as I pull my pants back on, following him to the door to the hall. He stops abruptly just inside the doorway, turning back to meet my eyes.

“What’s my name?” He asks cheekily.

“Harry,” I say confidently, “Why? Are you worried I forgot already?”

He grabs my ass in his hand tightly, squeezing the skin, his voice calculated, “I said, what’s my name?”

I gulp, leaning into his grip on me a bit more as my knees wobble, “Daddy.”

He releases his grip on my ass, giving it a quick smack, “’Atta girl, let’s get some pizza in you so you’re ready for round two,” He grins, throwing his arm around my shoulder and tucking me into his side as we walk down the hall to my room instead, “Maybe after we can hit the store, I seemed to have forgotten to pick something up last time I went.”

#harry styles #harry #harry styles smut #one direction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #one direction smut #harry smut #harry styles oneshot #daddy!harry #dom!harry #sub!y/n

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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

Text

1-800-Be-Mine | reader x minho | sfw

happy valentines day!! this lil fic of mine is something very new and different from what I’ve tried before and I’m so so excited to share it with you!!

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x lee minho

Genre: fluff, sci-fi, futuristic au, valentines day special!

Tags: strangers to lovers, sci-fi au, futuristic au, blind date au, AI au with a twist, mentions of food and alcohol, featuring hyunjin, tiny heart-shaped confetti of comedy and rebelling against the man lol, fluffy growing feelings

Warnings: Minho’s character in this is an adorable, charming, feeling, AI robot. haha idk if this is a warning but it might not be everyone’s cup o’ tea, if so, that’s why I’m mentioning it :)

Tagging: @stayhavens thank you for allowing me to be a part of this event ❤️

Word count: 7.1k

“If it’s the color of your shirt that you’re worried about, I don’t think that he’s gonna care.”

“--I can’t believe that you’re putting me through this. I didn’t even ask for...whatever the hell this all is.”

“You’re getting worked up over nothing, Y/n. This whole thing is literally the lowest commitment thing that you could ever do on Valentines Day.”

For the twentieth time, you held up the shirt and hanger over your torso in front of you streak-stained mirror. It shouldn’t have mattered much, or even at all, but here you were, wondering what color a synthetic human would like on your body the most.

With feet in the air, your best friend swung his feet with pointed toes and eyes glued to his phone.

“Quit looking at me like that.” Hyunjin didn’t even need to rise his head up to feel your glare. “He’s programmed to forget about you the second that your time runs out, so, I really don’t know why you’re wasting your time over this.”

One more time, you switched the creamy white satin for the wine-red velvet.

“God, this is so depressing.” The shirt hangers clinked together where you threw them down on your bed. “It’s all your fault too.”

“I can’t see why you aren’t excited for this!! I literally made it so he’s perfect for you. There’s like, a 0% chance that this is gonna go badly. You could spit escargot into his lap or get his tie stuck in the car door and he’d still think that you’re the best thing ever. You can do no wrong.”

“That’s the point...”

The floor started to look a lot more appealing in your despair. If you were making a dramatic show for yourself or for you friend, you had no idea, but somehow it felt a little better letting your body sliiide down the side of the wall into a little pool of half-done make-up and hair still damp.

“Stop throwing a tantrum.” Hyunjin scolded. “You have to be there in 45 minutes.”

“What if I...just don’t show up?”

“Then, you’d be robbing me of $360 and the most expensive gift that I’ve ever gotten for you. And, you’d break my heart. I don’t wanna be heartbroken on Valentines Day. I’d hate you forever.”

“Nooooo you wouldn’t.” You tossed your forehead into the palms of your hands.

“I’d hate you for a month probably.”

“Don’t you have somewhere that you need to be?” As expected, your hands were smudged a bit from the tiny dusting of eyeshadow that you had added to your lids.

“I told you already, she doesn’t get off until 8 so I’ve still got time. Besides, I already set everything up back at the apartment. I’m in no rush.” At last, your friend cast aside his phone on the mattress with a bounce. “Get up. I’ll help you. You should still look nice anyway...even if he doesn’t care. This night is about you anyway.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Is satin supposed to feel scratchy...? What? Satin being itchy? ...You must be going crazy if you think--

“--Annnd we’re here!”

The wheels of Hyunjin’s less than glamourous car skidded in front of the hotel with an obvious screech. He was never one for being a good driver anyway. With the pull of his hand through is blond hair he nodded his head for you to open your door.

“Time’s ticking. It’s nearly 7.”

“--Jin--”

“I’m not explaining it again. Just go do the damn thing. You’re overthinking it. Like you do with everything...”

Your best friend rolled his eyes which were blue today: a part of his own Valentines Day outfit: that of which he looked much better than you thought you had. He had slung his arm over his steering wheel looking on, and even more impatient with you by the second.

“Is it a fucking crime to be nervous??”

Hyunjin laughed out sharply. “You’re so cute. ~Especially when there isn’t anything to worry about.~”

You flicked him hard on his perfect arm covered by his perfectly planned and billowy white top.

“Would you like to go out there and meet him if it’s so easy?”

After a subsequent eye roll, your friend reached his long arm to pop open the car door on your side. “You’re not going to make me drag you, are you?”

“I can get it myself.” You growled, shoving his hand away.

The February air was crisp, and just cold enough for your breath to appear lightly in front of your face. Immediately, you started to regret everything: the itchy satin shirt (which you guessed probably wasn’t satin) the stiffness of your styled hair, and the way that your feet felt in the pair of shoes that you had broken out just for the occasion. You had even put perfume on; something that a “strictly deodorant” person as yourself found to be suffocating and odd.

Do Mirrors even have a sense of smell?

On the busy street, cars whipped past with headlights of yellow and red, and the bustle of the holiday evening buzzed on the sidewalk with couples marching down the way arm and arm and hand in hand. The energy of the evening seemed vibrant almost as if the whole world seemed to be slightly more awake. The plastic heels of ladies in their best shoes clicked past.

“Good luck!”

Hyunjin mustered up the most genuine smile that you thought possible for him to craft considering it wasn’t genuine in the slightest.

“Text me about it tonight--or--actually, not tonight, I’ll be...” He obviously winked, “...busy tonight.”

“You’re disgusting!!”

You slammed the car door in Hyunjin’s snide smirk while he laughed out a “Love you!” before speeding away without a care.

The remnants of old snow caked up in the corners of the hotel where Hyunjin had arranged the date. The hotel itself was very old fashioned looking, almost like it had come right out of one of those old movies he would tease you for liking--it was probably why he had chosen it, you thought to yourself. There was a large golden marquee with a strand of lightbulbs tracing the edge all around it much like an old-timey theater, which gave the name for the hotel. At the doorway made of the same golden hue, there were attentive bellhops in matching blue velvet uniforms and leather gloves that they blew in to to keep their hands warm.

When you thought more of it, the night was a bit colder than expected, so you pulled your coat closer to your body. Hyunjin had suggested that you wear your pea coat, however it’s warmth factor wasn’t something to write home about. He had something about how it had made your arms look good...as if he would care anything like what your arms looked like.

You pulled out your phone with your cold fingers to find the information that Hyunjin had sent you.

Name: Lee Minho

Model: Generation Four

Specifications: Personalized

Service time: 7pm-12am

Instructions: Meet at the front entrance of the the hotel The Grand at exactly 7pm where the Mirror will be waiting. Mirror will look like: [see image]

You hovered your hand over the little see image tab. Before, you had decided that you didn’t want to see the picture, and rather leave it as a surprise. That was the thrill of a blind date, right? For a moment, you rationalized it as peeking so that you knew what he looked like so you could find him. You hovered, and hovered...

“No, I shouldn’t...” You whispered out to the open air while you shoved your phone back into your pocket.

“Excuse me?” One of those attentive bellhops had snuck behind you and rose a caring hand to your shoulder: an action which made you jump. “Is there anything that I can help you with? Are you waiting for someone?”

“Oh.” You straightened yourself. “Yes, I am waiting for someone. They’ll be here really--”

“--Is it me that you’re waiting for?”

He had strolled right up to you, and you could barely form the words on your mouth to say “yes.” You had heard the stories about Mirrors before, but as far as you had known, this was your first time ever seeing one this close...and you wouldn’t have even known that he was any different from the flesh and bones that you knew you had.

He was devastatingly handsome; the kind of handsome that models were. Every single one of his features seemed to be carefully planned and calculated down to the little freckle on his nostril and his nose bridge of a perfect angle. Even his physical proportions seemed to be perfect: his arm muscles curved in wonderful angles under his black suit jacket that had one button at the front. He was dressed simply: merely a black tux with a white button up underneath and a deep navy blue tie. His chocolate brown eyes were a bit unique, looking even slightly cat-like.

Not like you had a type, but if you were to have one, he definitely would have been it.

He smiled upon seeing you, and coolly adjusted his silver cufflinks which you noticed had an insignia on them that looked a familiar: it was that picture of the eye with the spokes around it, the symbol of 3rdEyeCorp. As expected, everything in life seemed to come with a branding: even synthetic humans.

“Should we go inside?”

His voice was gentle and soothing, the kind of voice that you knew could lull you to sleep or convince you to do things that you wouldn’t want to. It was a voice that could put you at ease, and you wondered if that was intentional. Perhaps Hyunjin had told them that at times you could be neurotic.

You finally squeaked out a, “Yes.” then followed him towards the soft glow of the magnificent building. He had slipped over past you to open the door, letting you enter first.

“Oh...thanks...”

As you passed him, you could have sworn that he smelled like some kind of citrus scent. In fact, you didn’t know that he could even have a smell. This was but one of the many questions that had been plaguing you for the past couple weeks since learning of Hyunjin’s plan.

It wasn’t that he smelled like a person: that kind of earthy scene mixed up with the lingering scent of shampoo on hair, or a bit of mint holding to the corners of your mouth after you had brushed your teeth right before you exited the door. Still, you didn’t mind the citrus, it was better than nothing at all, you assumed.

He walked up to the maître d with perfect posture, and it was then when you noticed that you were slightly shorter that he was. His suit was pressed, and a line ran down the back directly over his spine.

“2 for L/n?” He said properly, and it felt strange hearing your last name come from his mouth.

“Right this way.”

He looked back at you, almost as if to see if you were doing okay. He held a little glint in his eyes that looked careful, caring even. From the very few words that he had said to you, he still maintained a composure about him that was...human. He was comfortable.

The three of you reached the table with the ironed white table cloth, small bouquet of red roses and two flickering tea candles. The lighting of the room was dim as all restaurants such as this were, and there was a light hum about the room coupled with the occasional clink of silverware on China. There was a fireplace to the corner of the room, and the dense smell of expensive wine hung in the air.

The maître d placed down the menus. “Your server will be with you shortly.”

You thought the small action a bit comical. You were the only one who knew his secret. Still, he nodded with a polite smile. “Thank you.”

The satin fabric on your shirt scraped at your bare chest, and you attempted your slyest attempt at making a tiny itch look nonchalant. He picked up the menu with a few of his brown strands dipping over his eyes. You studied him as he looked it over, not having a clue why. You thought that you had heard somewhere that his kind couldn’t eat. Perhaps he was a new model.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t formally introduced myself yet.” He put the menu down with a little embarrassed smile. “I must’ve forgotten. I’m Lee Minho.”

“I know.” Your cheeks felt hot. “Uh-and I’m Y/n. But--you probably knew that too.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Smile lines crinkled under his eyes. It was the first imperfection you could find about him.

“Yo-you too.”

Minho reached out a slender and pale hand for you to shake and you stared it in a moment of fear. You had never touched a Mirror before, much less wondered what they felt like.

“I don’t bite.” He chuckled out a small laugh that was much too cute for his own good. His shoulders then appeared to relax and he allowed himself to slouch. “At least, my model doesn’t.”

You choked out an ugly chortle at the joke. “Ah. I see.”

“You don’t have to be scared of me. I promise that I feel like anyone else.”

You took it, jumping a little at the sensation. He was warm--not exactly like you expected him to be cold and metallic however. The skin of his hand was cracked and grooved as normal, and it was squishy as if you could feel the muscles that would be underneath.

With a warm grin, he soothed you saying, “See?”

‘Oh...mmhm.” You shook his hand firmly. “Holy shit that's really creepy.” You muttered the words as softly as you thought you could have.

“Creepy?” He laughed out again. “Should I be offended? No one has ever called me creepy before.”

“Oh! Um, s-sorry, I didn’t mean--”

“--It’s okay! I was just kidding. I completely understand. Especially if this is your first time meeting someone like me. It is your first time?”

You nodded drawing your hand back with the warmth from his hand still lingering on yours.

“Let me know if there is anything that I can do to make you more comfortable. Seems like...we’re meant to be too.”

“--Meant to be?” You nearly dropped your cloth napkin to the ground.

“I mean, based off of your profile, they thought that I would be best suited for you. And you know...the programming and all that.”

“Oh! I guess so...”

Next, you thought it best to busy yourself with that glass of water that was looking very oddly refreshing.

“I meant to tell you as well that you look very nice. I think that color suits you very well.”

Drops of water got caught in your throat, “T-AHEM-this?” You pinched at the fabric.

Minho’s eyes widened at your sputtering coughs, signaling to a waiter to come fill your glass once more.

“Sorry, was I not supposed to say that?”

“No! No no, it’s...you’re fine. I was just a little surprised.”

“Surprised? Why?”

“I just didn’t think that you would...nevermind.”

Even though you had nearly choked yourself seconds ago, up went your water glass to your lips once more.

Minho fidgeted with his bangs with his pinky finger: a surprisingly vain little task. Under the dull lighting of the whole room, he did look very handsome; almost much too handsome to be in such a place with you. All at once, you became suddenly aware of the irregular patterns of those eyes peeking at you from their own tables with haughty and whispering words on their lips.

“You look...very nice as well.”

“Mm thank you.” As charming as ever, he gave a smile back. “This is my first time wearing this. I actually picked it out myself. I thought that you would like the color.” His pale fingers ran down the silk indigo tie.

“You thought about it too??”

“Thought about what?”

A snide smile crept over your mouth. Hyunjin could eat his words.

“Well do you? Like it?” A curious little smearing of worry painted Minho’s brow that was once again must too cute for his own good.

“I-I do like it.”

In all honesty, Minho would have looked good in anything, you thought, no matter how ridiculous. Under the thin white cotton of his shirt, you could see his toned pectorals as well. One pinch to the side of your leg was just enough to scold yourself.

He looked around himself in a bit of a silent wonder: from the rafters of the high ceilings painted in gold leaf, to the speakeasy on the far edge of the room with the posh looking bartender.

“I always thought that places like this were kind of stuffy.” He wrinkled his nose.

“You...what?”

“There's always someone at one table wondering if they look better, rank higher, or are more successful than the person at the other. Don’t you think the same?”

“I mean...I think they do keep looking us?”

“Ah. I noticed that too.”

Minho looked around himself carefully, then leaned in closer towards you. “Do you think that they know that I’m...you know?”

You snorted out a laugh covered by your hand. “What? No? How could they?”

“A hunch.”

“Can you even get hunches?”

“I may be a robot, but I can still read a room.”

You hushed him, “Shhhh! Say that any louder and then they’ll really know.”

A waiter in a black apron sauntered up to your table with a thin moustache and a big of a sagging face. He looked a bit less like a real waiter and more like a cartoon one.

“Good evening. Have you finished looking over the menus? Perhaps a bottle of wine to start you off? We have a new house merlot that I would highly recommend.” He reached a spiny finger to point at the name on your menu. “It would pair particularly well with our specials tonight. Seeing as it is Valentines day--”

The droning of the waiter continued on, and you had noticed that Minho wasn’t paying any attention at all. Rather, he had settled his gaze on the flickering of the candles, and the yellow light sparked in his pupils. For mere seconds, you could see something a bit different about them: a extremely thin circle of blue-white light around his irises.

The waiter pulled out his pad with an expectant gaze.

“Uh-yeah, I-I’ll take that. That--whatever-you-just-mentioned.”

He appeared puzzled. “You wish to start with the special orange Crème Brule first?”

“Ah-no! Sorry, can you..” You cringed, “Repeat what you just said?”

He rolled his eyes, but did respectfully as he was told while you sunk further into your chair with Minho’s teasing smirk. This time you listened to the specials, even though you decided you didn’t even want one, but rather picked one of the cheapest items on the menu. That was one of the drawbacks of paying for your date: he had no obligation to pay for your meal.

The waiter looked even more puzzled when Minho said he wasn’t ordering anything, but shrugged, burying his pad back into his pocket saying, “I’ll be over with the wine shortly.”

“Do you want to know something?” Minho leaned back in once the waiter was out of an earshot.

You treated yourself to yet another sip of your emptying glass, and nodded.

“There’s at least four others like me in here.”

“Four? How can you know?”

“I think I’d know my own kind when I saw them.”

“I would never be able to tell.”

The waiter returned, showing the label to the wine to both of you before popping it open and pouring it into glasses with the twist of his wrist. Two drops from the crimson top stained the little napkin he used.

Minho’s hands toyed with the stem of the glass, but didn’t take a sip.

“That’s why they call us Mirrors.”

“How do you mean?”

“Because you’re supposed to see yourselves in us.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Your body had started to warm with the energy of the room after long, and your appetizer of escargot had arrived. Oddly, since Hyunjin had mentioned it before, it embedded in you an odd craving that you couldn’t satisfy until you had some. By now, you had realized that Minho likely wouldn’t have been eating with you, but it was strange: even the other Mirrors in the room appeared to be.

“I’m assuming that you can’t eat then?” You popped the buttery taste into your mouth.

“Yes. It doesn’t make sense for my...biology. If you can call it that. I can’t digest food nor do I have the mechanisms to do so.”

“Maybe we should have done something that didn’t include food then.”

“I do have something though! I know that eating alone like this can be uncomfortable.”

He grabbed inside his inside suit pocket and pulled out a wallet: thin and black leather. It had almost nothing in it save for what looked like a iridescent square. Over top of it was the same logo on his cufflinks. He flipped it around his fingers like a playing card.

“What is it?”

“My dinner.” He sated matter-of-factly.

“You’re gonna...eat that? Maybe you shouldn’t--”

He placed it neatly in front of himself, pressing the surface and it morphed into some kind of three dimensional polygon shape of pixels, both large and small, until it settled into a perfect copy of your dish that you had sitting in front of you.

“It’s holographic.”

“Of course it is.”

“Newest in tech at 3rdEye. This is my first time using one. They thought it would be a good idea to send the prototypes out with the Mirrors tonight for the beta test. What do you think?”

“It’s very...realistic.”

“It’s pocket sized, and it can really transform into anything that you could want, but of course...its still not really solid. Perfect for me though.”

He took a bite of his escargot with an equally holographic fork.

“I imagine that it tastes very good.”

“You can’t taste things?”

“Unfortunately, no. Since I don’t need to eat, don’t know why I would need to. I’ve got all the other senses though.”

The house merlot was bitter on your tongue and full bodied. You couldn’t imagine what your life would have been like without taste. He chewed on, and somehow the action really did seem comforting.

“You’re very um, open about yourself. You know...talking about yourself so bluntly. I feel like some people when they do these things, they just want to keep on that suspension of disbelief as long as they can; pretending that you're--”

“--A real person?”

You hadn’t intended on it coming off as insulting, and a “sorry” formed on your lips.

“--I’m not offended. And, you’re right. Most people do. But, I could sense that you were different. I don’t have a problem telling you about me. Something told me that you would like to know.”

“Something?”

“Enough about me though, lets talk about you. You’re a doctor aren’t you?”

“-For animals. Nothing too crazy. I’m working up my way to have my own practice some day. For now, I’m just doing nurse type stuff. Giving immunizations, checking teeth and stuff like that.”

“I read your thesis. The one from your pre-vet. I thought that your research was very interesting. How come you didn’t continue on with animal behavior?”

His string of questions made you crack out into laughter. Never had anyone you had ever dated said that they had read up on you.

“I can’t believe that you just said that.”

“What? I had assumed that you might want to talk about something that interests you like that.”

“That was...so long ago, I don’t even think about that paper anymore.”

Minho took some of his wine down with a polite dab of his napkin to his lips.

“How about hiking then? Or those Frank Capra movies that you like? Which one is your favorite?”

“Stop, stop. This is--”

His eyes widened. “Did I misspeak again? Your friend said that it would be okay if we did the proper research--”

“--Just...sorry, it’s strange that you know everything about me already and we’ve hardly just met.”

“I’m not following.”

“Can you just...forget like, everything you know about me for a minute? This is supposed to be a blind date isn’t it?”

“I can do that.” Minho tightened his tie.

“How about we talk about something else?”

Minho nodded in agreement with a determined tiny grin. “I can tell you about what I do?”

“You have a job?”

Your prompt waiter appeared with a giant silver platter which glinted in the light of the numerous dancing candles around it. The ceramic plates clinked into the glasses assorted on the table, and he lastly offered out freshly grated parmesan for your pasta. You said “when” and he was just as quickly out of your way, but not after granting the both of you one more questioning glare.

“Yes.”

Your date flipped over his holographic square, and soon it transformed into another spitting image of your meal.

“I’m supposed to tell you that I’m a college professor of ornithology but since we’re being blunt here, my job is working for 3rdEye, and doing basically whatever they ask of me. Including this. And actually...” He twisted a string of noodles around his fork. “...I think that it’s going pretty well.”

A quick giggle erupted out from you. “I’m glad that we’re being honest because you do not look like someone who teaches twenty somethings about birds.”

“But if I had said I did, would that have made you like me more?”

“Maybe. I’m sure that they picked that because I did graduate research on migration and flight patterns.”

“Likely.”

“Maybe I should have stuck with animal behavior. Then we would have had more to talk about.”

A silence filled the space between you as you tried your best to eat your pasta with as much grace as you could. Of course, you were still one to get it on your lap and the table cloth, but luckily you had a napkin to protect you. Your date on the other hand, ate as if he was eating with the queen herself. For several moments, you really did allow yourself those brief moments of ignorance: you really were just two people, sitting in a fancy restaurant on Valentines Day, eating a meal together, on a date, as an normal two people would do. Every few moments too, he would look at you with a type of gentle adoration in his eyes too.

And it felt nice.

It really was as effortless as Hyunjin had said. You would be eating your words on this one.

At last, you had scraped out the last chunks of tomato and vegetable bites from your shallow dish, and you sat back which a sense of drowsiness clinging to your eyes. Over time, you had slumped deeper and deeper into your chair as you felt your body warm with the fireplace. You didn’t mean to look, but your watch had read just past 9 o’clock.

“That all tasted good.” Minho sighed, and slumped along with you.

“I thought you couldn’t taste?”

“Ah. You’re right. Well, I enjoyed eating that with you. Did it taste good?”

“It did.”

“Should we get some of that orange Crème Brule from earlier?”

You folded up your napkin on the table. “You mean should I get some of that Crème Brule? I’m the one paying here remember?”

“Are you?”

With the stretch of your arms, you answered, “Not today. I don’t have that doctor’s pay...yet.”

“But shouldn’t you eat something sweet on Valentines Day? Isn’t that also what its about?”

You laughed, “I don’t know where you heard that, but no, it doesn’t.”

“Ah, I see. My understanding of the holiday is very jumbled. Holidays are like that for us. The sort of emotional attachment to them is hard for us to understand. I’ve watched millions of hours of films to understand them...but--”

“--Millions?”

“Yes?”

“That’s…insane.”

“Not for me.” He said with a happy little grin. “Should we be leaving?”

In one motion, he swept up his shirt sleeve, just over his wrist where you had expected him to have a watch. Instead, a faint blue glow emerged on his skin making letters and numbers that you couldn’t read as well from upside down.

“Hm. 3 more hours. What else would you like to do with our time together?”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The winter cold bit at your ears while the two of you walked together down the busy urban stretch. Even later into the night the giddy excitement of friends ambling down the streets and couples linking to eachother with tipsy happiness could still be found everywhere. You barely knew him, but you still felt in some way compelled to reach out and interlock your arm with his as those other couples did. You had a half a mind to reach out to him, but another half a mind to keep your arms wrapped around yourself.

But, as if he had read your mind, he reached out his hand behind him to quietly slip your arm into his.

“Put your hands in your pockets.” He asked, and you did so. “I figured that you must be cold, so...my body heats itself too, makes me more...you know.”

He was warm. Much warmer than your entire body felt had felt then, but still you noted that the tips of his ears and nose had turned pink.

“Where to?” He questioned next.

“I-I’m not sure. I didn’t think this far.”

“I could pick?”

“You know where to go?”

He was silent for a moment, then nodded. “There’s a place that I wouldn’t mind going to. Do you know how to skate?”

“Ice...skate?”

He huffed out with a tiny smile, and you noticed that when he did, no visible molecules could be seen in front of his face.

“Do you? I can pick something else? It’s not everyone’s skill.”

“N-no. I can do it.”

You don’t know why you had said it: perhaps you felt as if you had something to prove to this inhuman person, or you really did want to go there with him, no matter where it was.

You had never learned how to skate in your life.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The ice rink was lined with pink and white string lights: likely a Valentines Day decoration. Plastic hearts made of fuzzy tinsel also decorated the edges of the rink and sparkled under the lights. It had been built into the center of a public park, and bodies huddled in winter coats sat together on the benches to the side, waving at those they knew when they slipped past. Tinny music played over the outdoor speakers: it was some pop song that you had heard before, but didn’t know the name of.

Minho laced up your skates for you, and even then you noticed that his knuckles had turned pink too.

“Are you...cold?”

“Oh! This?” He turned his hands around. “No, I’m not. it’s just another one of my humanisms.”

“Humanisms?”

“Something to make me look more like you. When it’s cold outside my body senses it and does this.”

“I see.”

Even if you knew that he couldn’t possibly feel things in the same why, he was damn convincing--and you couldn’t help but think it was unbearably cute as well.

“Done! You ready? You can take my hand if you want?”

You stood wobbly as a deer taking its first steps. Walking on the blades was much more difficult than you would have guessed. He didn’t need to ask twice for you to grab hold.

“I’m assuming that you know how to do this?”

“There’s a lot of things that I know how to do.” He winked.

The second that your feet met the ice, you felt your heart start beating into overdrive with your anxiety of falling. Over the ice, it too felt colder, and that didn’t help much either. With one hand you clawed to the side of the rink, and the other dug into Minho’s arm.

“I thought that you said that you knew how to skate?”

“I lied. I’m gonna fall on my fricking face and its gonna be the most embarrassing thing ever. Worse than spitting escargot into your lap.”

“Spitting escargot? What?”

“Just--can you help me?”

He tittered with an adorably warm laugh and grabbed back at you firmly. “I won’t let go.”

Even the toddlers in their little training bumpers were more skilled than you. Minho was patient, and coached you through the skills of the left and right motions of your feet and getting into a rhythm. You still flapped your arms around wildly like a wobbly penguin, but he was eventually able to coax you away from the wall.

“See! You’re getting the hang of it!”

“Really?”

Minho nodded profusely, letting go of both of your hands to hold just one. “Stop looking at your feet and just look at me. You’ll trip yourself up focusing so hard.”

Other couples whipped past you, and you thought it best not to look at how easy it was for them.

“I-I think that I’m doing it!”

Minho’s eyes lit seeing you start to swing your feet back and forth. In that pink lighting of the rink, you could see that thin ring of light around his eyes once more. Even though it was unnatural, you still thought that it looked beautiful.

“WATCH OUT!!” Came a distant voice from behind you.

Before you had a second to turn around, a fuzzy blur came barreling into you. Two small bodies: a couple middle school boys chasing each other, came colliding with your teetering body, forcing you to fall to the hard ice with a terrible thud.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” One of their pre-pubescent voices cracked.

“I-I’m fine...I think.”

Your air had been knocked right out of your lungs and your butt ached with a sharp pain that you hoped you wouldn’t be feeling for days. Both of your hands were wet with ice from the contact. Minho quickly offered you his hand up.

“-You okay?” He brushed ice off of your coat.

Truthfully, you were horribly shaken, and your chest shook, but you lied once more. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”

“No you’re not.” His worried eyes studied you. “Lets get you something warm to drink okay?”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“One hot chocolate please.”

Minho fiddled with his wallet, picking out that same iridescent square from before. As soon as his fingers touched it, it glimmered into a credit card.

“It can do that?” You had uttered, but he gave you back a cautious glare.

The man at the little coffee stand took it without question, and somehow, it worked.

“$3.15″ He monotoned, and gave the card back.

The white Styrofoam cup warmed your hands instantly, and the chocolatey steam delighted your nostrils.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s no problem. I wanted to.”

You took a sip, but a strange silence befell over your date, and he furrowed his brows.

Under his breath, he repeated the word “...wanted?”

The further that you walked along the river together, the less that you wanted to take another look at your watch where it peaked out from your coat sleeve. You imagined that it must have been nearing almost 10:30--optimistically. Instead, you took long and purposeful sips of of your drink and indulged in the way that the heat would seep down from your throat and all the way down your body.

Onward, one of the great and massive bridges of the city blinked with an array of multicolored lights: some from cars, others from the way that it was decorated to look a bit like shining stars. Under the lights, the navy-black of the river reflected the fractals of light. The walkway was nearly empty of people except for the odd couple sitting and cuddled up by the edge of the water. The water should have been frozen, but it didn’t appear to be giving up just yet.

Your companion had drawn quiet with eyes cast down to his walking feet. You had half a mind to reach out to him...

“Is there anything you would like to do?” Your question filled the quiet, but you didn’t expect him to stop in his steps upon hearing it.

“Are you asking me if there is anything that I want do to?”

“Yes...?”

Minho was again quiet, then turned to look at the vast expanse of the cityscape in front of you both.

Suddenly, he began, “Valentines Day is a holiday that has to do with loving, doesn’t it?”

You stammered at the question in your confusion, but still answered. “Yes.”

“You express love on the holiday? You show people that you love them, and that you care for them. Right?”

“I think so...but why are--”

“--What do you think that it means to love something?”

Distantly, cars honked, and music boomed out from drawn down windows, and it floated in the evening air.

For you, loving was something that was second nature. It was little bits of happiness, fuzzy feelings, but it also ached, and felt like being lost. How could you possibly begin to describe what it meant?

Minho’s eyes were full of intrigue and even maybe a twinge of desperation. Could Mirrors even hold such a thing in their eyes?

“I-I’m not sure how to cover it all, but, I guess that I could say that loving something, or someone, is to want them. You want to be around them, you want to see them laugh or smile, you want to make them feel that you care. I don’t think that it is much more complicated than that.

The man appeared even more confused, almost like he had been computing his own mental calculations right before his very eyes. Then, all at once, his eyes softened.

“If loving something is to want it; to have desire, desiring is the first step? Love must be simplier than I thought that it was, and maybe...I think that I can do it.”

“What are you talking about?”

Minho swept up his hands in yours after casting aside the cup to the ground.

“You asked me if I wanted to do something. But the thing is...I don’t think I’ve ever wanted do to anything ever before in my life. It was just, what others wanted of me and what I colud do for them. Not me.”

Realization swept over Minho piece by piece, and soon it all unfolded for you too.

He drew your arms and hands around the back of his neck to pull your body closer to his.

You might’ve looked before, but his lips looked soft and unbelievably sweet: like melting snowflakes, whipped cream, or the fuzzy flesh of peaches.

“I do want something.” He said at last.

“Minho...what are you saying?”

“I-I can’t tell if what it is that I’m feeling is some kind of algorithm, or I’m just...you’re so...different.”

“I hope that you’re not just saying this all--”

“--I’m not! I’m not. I promise...an-and Mirrors can’t lie.” He laughed out. “How can you make a machine that’ll lie to you?”

His hands crept up your sides, and all the way up to cup your face in his hands.

He was impossible. In every way, but he was real. As real as the warmth from his hands and as real as the way that his mouth appeared to wet with saliva and how you could count the tiny moles on his face.

“Well, what is it that you--”

He had drawn your face close up into his, then closed any space that divided the two of you. Your lips parted with his into a meeting of his plush lips that were even softer than you had imagined. Even though you knew he couldn’t taste it, you flooded the taste of chocolate into his mouth, and your body shivered in the way that he ran his tongue over your bottom lip. He wasn’t intrusive, but rather curious, and thrilled. Any semblance of him that was any less than the skin that you felt on yours faded, and you poured yourself all back to him. His fingers held fast to the sides of your face while he kissed back every with every bit of him that he could. Even in the one moment when your eyes had fluttered open, he held his eyes closed, to focus only on you. Your own wondering hands laced into his fuzzy locks.

Each and every kiss that he painted across your lips was laced with indescribable want: something that he shouldn’t have even known, but you could feel it. He echoed the smile that you had pressed into his lips.

“I just want to be with you tonight. Just a bit longer. No more timers.” Minho whispered onto your mouth, barely breaking.

On the one hand, his request terrified you. A Mirror, one who you thought to be unfeeling, pre-programmed, an empty shell, wanted you. But still, you couldn’t control yourself from wanting him back, and everything about him that you knew and didn’t know. Wanting him, was the simplest thing you could have done.

“I-I want that too.”

His smile was thankful, and suddenly every little way that his eyes would crinkle or the corners of his mouth would upturn seemed more genuine.

Minho traced your hands to the back of your his neck where he guided them to the tip of his spine.

“Touch here.” He guided your fingertip over what felt like a bone. “Press down.”

You did so, and the patch of skin sunk down a bit like a button. You held his eyes which flickered wholly with that blue-white light you had taken notice of before.

“Say “Bypass LK2510.” “

He held your finger down still, and you repeated the phrase, watching as the light vanished all at once, even that thin ring around his irises.

“What did that do?”

Minho blinked a couple time like he was ridding sleep from his eyes, then beamed with a grin that only got wider and wider. “They shouldn’t know where I am for a while. You disabled my tracker.”

“I did what??? Can’t I get in trouble for that??”

“Not when I made you do it.”

In his delight, he pressed his lips back up against yours with a kind of light air that was ecstatic and hurried--it was contagious, and the feeling swept over you until you were just as giddy. You were nearly as giddy as a school child reveling in the mischief of knowing what they were doing was against the classroom rules.

Your chest swelled with nervous excitement, but it wasn’t nearly as addictive as any drug that you could imagine.

“Where do you want to go now?” You asked him with hands clinging to the sides of his coat.

“Anywhere.”

[nsfw version/ending coming soon on binniesthighs!]

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