#it’s more crude and not as planned out as my practice drawings

[quibbs126]

Oh yeah, so I finished it

I mean maybe I’ll make it look prettier but it’s fine as is. Serves its purpose

This has now been simplified in my head as “Transformers One: good ending”

[scorchieart]

Doodles and Dust

Genre: Slice of Life

Characters: Jin Grandet, Sariel Noir

Wordcount: 700

Prompts: In the shadows, Make it...

A/N: My gift for the 2024 Ikemen Exchange over on @flash-exchange for @pathogenic. Despite them having one of my favorite friendships in the game, I don't often write these two together. So I'm very happy I got to work on this for ya, Ollie!

“Cinnamon sticks, old man— You scared the sugarcubes outta me,” Jin heaved, clutching the door with one hand and his chest with the other. It always was a shock running into him unscheduled. Doubly so in a dark attic.

Sariel did not look up from the trunk he rifled through. “If you are looking for your magazines, Prince Yves disposed of them last week,” he said.

“Magazines?” scoffed Jin. “You misunderstand. I am here for the same noble reason as yourself.” 

“How fortuitous that we both elected to use our lunch breaks productively today.” Sariel lifted his head and cobwebs swayed off his hair giving his face a ghoulish glow. “I have this area covered. Please start by searching there.” He pointed to a corner where stacks of dusty bookshelves leaned against one another in ominous invitation.

Jin groaned, masking it with a blazing grin. “You’re looking for a magazine, right?” 

The entirety of Sariel’s annoyance flashed with a single eyebrow twitch. “A notebook. Red. With my handwriting.”

“Embarrassing diary entries from your youth, eh?”

“An accelerated course is necessary to bring Belle up to speed with Rhodolite’s governance,” Sariel explained soberly. “I thought it prudent to reference study plans I developed from Prince Leon’s early tutoring days. Why reinvent the wheel?”

It was just a joke. Jin raised his arms in surrender and waddled over to the shelves, each so full to bursting, grabbing one book might topple the entire configuration.

Where to begin? 

Behind looked most stable. Plus he could hide there and snooze. Hey, this was supposed to be break time.

Jin scooted into the shadows, but something already occupied his napping spot. Carefully, carefully, he pulled out a large, ornate frame.  From first glance it looked like a typical painting of the palace grounds—lush rosebushes clearly recognizable to any Rhodolitian visitor—with seven tiny figures scattered across. Boys. But closer inspection revealed more; the boys were not in fact original subjects of the painting but crudely pasted on, torn edges revealing glimpses of different origins. On top of it all, notable blots of ink were scribbled over the scene, as though someone had once left behind harsh criticisms of the work.

“No way!” Jin exclaimed, “I thought I lost this ages ago!”

“And I thought those pieces were pilfered ages ago,” Sariel called as he joined him.

“You never asked. I never told,” Jin said, studying the collage. Long ago, this attic was his preferred place to practice quill-usage in solitude. He reverently glided his fingers over the markings. A pair of dark gloves covered the twins’ interlocked hands. A wide smile cut across Chevalier’s stoic face. Tears welling in Clavis’s eyes replaced with glittering stars. Even Sariel’s fury melted at the doodles.

To a child, the attic is an escape to worlds beyond imagination. To an adult, it is a prison of memory.

“Someone’s missing,” Sariel commented.

“Well, Luke wasn’t around yet.”

“Yes. But I meant His Majesty.”

Jin inhaled. “He wouldn’t have fit. They don’t make portraits that small for kings,” he said.

“But you left a sizable gap in the middle there.”

“As if I’d remember my muse from that long ago?”

“As well as you remembered to discard your drafts, it seems.” Sariel approached the frame and plucked a loose paper sticking out from the corner. Jin reflexively snatched it from his hands.

“Oh my. Embarrassing doodles from your youth?” Sariel asked with glee.

“Yves just missed a page,” Jin said, stuffing it into his pocket. Sariel decided not to comment on how Jin accidentally revealed his lie. Nor how he spotted the unmistakable drawing of a dark-haired boy with glasses on that paper.

“Goodness, how time flies!” Sariel announced. “I can always create a new study plan—Prince Luke requires one regardless. And speaking of recreating things for Prince Luke…” he mused, one hand stroking his chin. “It would be short notice, but I don’t believe the royal painter would mind. And gathering the princes would be beneficial for Belle to interrogate you all at once.”

The attic was indeed a place to unearth memories. Sometimes it worked well to inspire new ones, too.

Jin beamed. “Fine, but you’re standing next to me. Got it?”

Ever helpful, Rio volunteered to organize the entire event. He swiftly located and invited the royal painter from the farthest edge of the kingdom, booked and gathered the princes in the ballroom (resolving any and all inter-factional scheduling and squabbling conflicts that arose), and gallantly escorted Belle to the venue all with such efficiency, the princes invited him to join in for the painting. Neither Jin nor Sariel protested when he perched himself between them bearing the biggest smile of the bunch.

And that’s my headcanon for the story behind the 1st anniversary group portrait :)

[dominimoonbeam]

To The Edge - 21

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: scifi romance, hijinks in space, rogues learning to trust, violence, blood, guns, death, explicit language, so much kidnapping,

Works organized and easily found over on the patreon. <3

TO THE EDGE - CHAPTER 21.

He put the ship down in a valley of rubble on a speck of a planet. It had been terraformed centuries ago for mining but tapped out early—like a lot of mines past the edge—and been abandoned by the SC. There was a tiny outpost on the other side, so unimportant that it wasn’t even charted as a residence in the Solar Court database.

Rory had been less sure of this little side quest when he landed than he had been when they first came up with the idea, but after seeing the look on Stardust’s face when they stepped off the ship…

How could someone who had lived in the Prime Quadrant of the Solar Court their whole life and probably seen more places than he could imagine, look so awestruck by a wasteland?

He turned and tried to see what they saw.

Lavender slate rubble and dark peaks in the distance, the white glow of the nearest star casting long shadows, and the wink of stars through the gray sky. The wind whistled through canyons and twirled fine particles into purple and black waves off the peaks.

The flare of their optic implant dragged a ring of electric orange light through their irises. Were they adjusting their vision to the lighting or were they recording images?

“No one lives here?” Stardust asked.

Rory laughed. They sounded like they were thinking of claiming the spot for themself. “There’s maybe fifty on the whole planet, mostly on the other side holed-up in what’s left of the settlement.”

Stardust nodded at the horizon thoughtfully, like they understood why those people were out here. Maybe they did, in a weird way. Anyone still living this far out, on a place that got no trade, were hiding from someone. More than likely, some of those people were hiding from Stardust’s family.

With another approving huff, Stardust grabbed the duffle bag and pointed at a spot near the wall of the canyon. “We should set the targets there!”

Rory shrugged and started walking, fishing a spray can from his bag and giving it a good shake. He marked out the target rings in fluorescent green.

“Those aren’t even…” Stardust critiqued.

He rolled his eyes and shouted back, “It’s not going to matter. You’re not going to hit them.”

“No one shoots at circles anyway.”

With a snort he took a few big steps to the side and then painted the crude outline of a person, a neon shadow on the rockface. It reminded him of when he was a kid on a rock not so different from this one. He and his sister had practiced on boulders, the side of a shed, and hollow synthetic skins they propped up in between. It had been a game when he was little. Even she had laughed then when they goofed around. But over those few years, it had changed. It had become increasingly important to hit the mark. It had stopped being fun—stopped being a game—and become survival.

A shot jolted him from his thoughts, a bullet of pink paint slapping the wall. Droplets of paint ricochet onto his cheek.

Rory turned slowly to look back at his attacker.

Stardust blinked and then heaved a laugh. They held their hands out to their sides and up a little, gun still in one. “A test shot?”

He raised an eyebrow and dropped the paint can on the ground by his boot, hands free to draw. They’d loaded up with paint rounds before getting off the ship. “What were you aiming it?”

They smiled sheepishly.

He waited.

Stardust held his gaze and even at that distance, he saw the boundless mischief there. He wasn’t sure they’d actually been aiming for him and not the wall with that first shot, but he knew they were going to try to shoot him this time.

The thrill of it was that for once in his life, Rory wasn’t sure who would be faster.

He wasn’t always the quickest, but he made a point of knowing when he wasn’t—of gauging others and being ready to jump or cheat when his life was on the line. And then there he stood, staring right at a Solinoh and not knowing if he’d survive, but not willing to run either.

Stardust’s eyes widened a fraction and he realized they didn’t know if they were faster than him either. The wind pushed across that space between them.

Their gun hand shifted, coming down and center to aim.

Rory drew and shot.

The sounds of it all were swallowed by the wind but he would swear he saw that splash of orange paint hit their vest before the two collided with his.

Stardust gaped in mock shock, one gloved hand tapping their heart and coming away with neon pink. They held it out to him like proof of betrayal and Rory couldn’t help but laugh. “You murdered me!”

“It was self-defense.”

They laughed, holstering their gun and waving him over. “I hit you first though.”

“The fuck you did.” He slid his pistol into the holster against his ribs.

“Oh, we will be revisiting the duel… But first!” They grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him to stand facing the target wall. They were so busy trying to get things set up just right, that he was free to just watch them. They stood in front of him, their back to the target. “Okay… so the pirate is back there—”

“Why a pirate? Why not a merc? Or a primer thug?” Rory countered.

Stardust huffed. “It’s a pirate today. It’s usually a pirate out here…”

He didn’t argue, even though they were wrong. In his experience, it was usually just some random person that had either lost their mind or gone past desperation. But he knew that in Stardust’s limited experience of the edge, it was mostly pirates. That was fair, since they had a bounty on their head that was probably turning some of those average people into mercs and pirates. Desperation killed.

Stardust stepped up to him, focused on their game, and Rory stood still to watch. They were right in his space, almost hip to hip. Their hand slid up his side to settle on one of his guns. “You would be wearing a jacket,” they explained, practically whispering now that they were so close. “No one would expect it.”

They very slowly drew the gun from the holster and Rory held his breath, trying very hard not to read too much into this. His primer was very confusing. Just the other day they’d turned down his flirtation with a blush and then told their friend they might use him as a decoy to get away from their cousin…

But right now… right now, they were looking into his eyes and drawing his gun, slowly curling their arm around their own middle to aim blindly behind themself. They were so close that he felt their exhale on his lower lip.

They pulled the trigger.

Rory watched their pupils pulse with excitement at the shot. He tore his gaze from theirs to look at the wall and the splash of pain near the ground. “I told you,” he smirked.

They twisted around to see too. “That’s why we’re out here. To practice!”

“You could just turn and shoot…”

“That wouldn’t be as cool,” they countered. They weren’t wrong but missing would be so much worse. “Maybe if I pretend to be injured and you’re like, holding me up…”

Rory snorted. “How would that help?”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Of your incredibly bad shot?”

“Of my brilliant idea!”

His laugh choked off when they put his gun back in his holster and he had to cough to hide it, looking away when they took up their position again—close.

[twstmagica]

Fetch Quest part 1

From the way Crowley had hyped it up, Yuu had expected acquiring a new magic gem to be an epic quest. She envisioned delving deep into the earth, scaling treacherous caverns, and narrowly dodging ferocious beasts. What they got instead was a relatively peaceful stroll.

Yuu says relatively because her company was totally dragging down the vibes.

“Myah! Are you crazy! It’s pitch black in there!” 

Fire Catcoon, don't you have literal flames coming out your ears?

“I can't believe I’m stuck with a literal scaredy cat! This is pathetic.” 

Stop egging him on Ace. That attitude is literally how you got here in the first place. 

“You – !”

“Shut up! Both of you!” Fed up, Yuu seized them by an ear each.

“Yeouch!”

“What the fuc – !”

The brats struggle but there's no escape. “We’re here because the two of you couldn't handle one day without starting a fight that destroyed seven hallways!” Also Deuce’s shit aim but he wasn't being a problem right now.

 The duo tries to protest but Yuu digs her nails into their ears.

Deuce watches in discomfort but doesn't actually try to stop her. Good.

“From now until we get back, I’m in charge, and I won't tolerate any more arguing. Are. We. Clear.” Yuu practically hisses the last part.

“Like I'm gonna –” Yuu pinches harder and twists. “Okay!”

Satisfied that order had been restored, Yuu surveyed the trio. Grim was still nursing his sore ear, Ace had retreated a few steps, shooting daggers with his glare, and Deuce was standing ramrod straight.

“So what's the plan then O’ mighty leader.” 

Ace's sarcasm was thick, but Yuu ignored it. She had a job to do.

If she was being honest, Yuu didn't actually have much experience with leadership. Still, she could improvise. Channeling her experience teaming up against fiends, Yuu tries to imitate some of the squad leaders she's worked with. 

“We go in staggered column formation. Myself at point, Grim and Ace take left and right respectively, and Deuce at the rear.” Yuu glares at them, daring anyone to interrupt.

“In the event of a hostile encounter, I’ll engage because I’m the only one with actual combat experience,” – Fire Catcoon starts to speak up but a pointed look silences him – “while Grim acts as my backup,” thanks to that night in Ramshackle she at least has an idea how he fights. “Ace and Deuce will provide cover fire when needed. Any questions?”

Deuce nervously raises a hand. “What's a staggered column formation?” Shifting in place he follows up, “and, uh, cover fire?”

Yuu blinks. Oh, right. Despite this world's freaky magic these people are still basically civilians. Glancing at the other two Yuu suspects they didn't understand much more than Deuce, but were too proud to admit it.

Motioning them over, she kneels down and starts drawing in the dirt.

 “So we are going in with a four point zig-zag pattern,” Yuu starts, drawing four circles connected by a line.

“I’m this dot at the front, then Grim is a little behind to my left, Ace will be further back at Grims right, and we end with you at the back on Ace’s left.”

Deuce is looking avidly at her crude sketch and nods. Despite his aggression from today's earlier fiasco the blunett was being surprisingly cooperative. 

“Cover fire means that if we get in a fight, while Grim and I move forward, you and Ace will use long range spells when we knock an enemy back.” I stand up and dust off my pants.

Fists clenching in determination Deuce looks in my eyes, “Got it!” 

That's the spirit!

Too bad Ace has to speak up. “You're putting the weasel before us? What the hell?”

“Grim is my backup because we’ve fought together before and know how to avoid getting in each other's way.”

At this Grim puffs up with pride. “Yeah!”

“And I've been in combat situations since I was ten. So I’d say I'm qualified to decide this stuff.”

“Wait what?”

Ignoring Ace I summon my scepter, “Alright, nothing else? No? Great.”

“What's that about you fighting since you were ten?”

“I’ll tell you later. Now squad, get in formation.”

“Yeah!” Deuce and Grim cheer. Ace is still looking at me dubiously but he gets in position. 

“Hold still, I'm going to cast a support spell. Grim, we did this before with the dorm ghosts.”

Grim’s tail wiggles as eyes light up with recognition. “The butterfly thing that made me stronger!”

“That's the one. Now, [Dreamer’s Blessing]!”

Shimmering butterflies spiral gently from my scepter and envelop the trio in a gentle glow.

��Alright, let's go!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I've got this and the end sorted but the fight scene in the middle is giving me trouble so I'm just splitting the mine into three parts. Part three is the start of where this au really diverge but it doesn't feel right to just 'yada yada' away the things that lead up to that.

[sidusgladii]

FT Next Gen Masterlist

Below is my masterlist of my Fairy Tail Next Generation characters + headcanons! Sorry for the wait @noodlelove3000 !

Orsa Redfox

She is 21 years old (Virgo).

Magic: Requip Magic, Scripture Magic

Likes: abandoned buildings, humming.

Hobbies: exploring, practicing guitar skills.

Has a serious or stern personality.

Is polite and respectful.

A slight germaphobe.

She can be described as “cute” and “intimidating”.

She is five feet and three inches tall (or about 160 centimeters).

An S-Class mage.

Emotionally-restrained.

Unintentionally insensitive.

Introverted.

Not a fan of household pets, but finds an interest in wild animals.

Owns a bunch of stuffed animals.

She refuses to take responsibility for something she was, indirectly, tasked to do.

Piercings: Earlobes, Left Double Helix, Right Orbital, Right Daith, Vertical Labret, and Double Cheek Dermal.

Guildmark Location: Left Shoulder (Orange).

Timur Redfox

He is 21 years old (Virgo)

Magic: Transformation Magic, Matter Manipulation

Likes: nature, anti-jokes.

Hobbies: reading, sculpting.

Timur is pansexual (attracted to anyone regardless of gender identity).

Unintentionally insensitive.

Extroverted.

Tries to be responsible, and is responsible! He tends to be overbearing at times.

An amazing singing and instrumental talent.

He claims to have no dignity left in his body and soul, so he is shameless in many ways.

He was born with sharp canines.

Piercings: Vertical Left Eyebrow, Bridge, Septum, Smiley, Snake Bites, Belly Button, and Triple Earlobes.

The sight of blood fuels his determination to defeat an opponent. He turns into a different person.

He draws and writes on his bedroom walls (not in an aesthetic way, like a maniac).

Guildmark Location: Right Shoulder Blade (Blue).

Kieron Fullbuster

He is 19 years old (Sagittarius).

Magic: Water Body, Matter Make

Likes: trying new recipes, sunshine.

Hobbies: baking, star-gazing.

Loyal.

His love languages are Physical Touch and Words of Affirmation.

Being possessive is not something he wants to be, so he works on himself for the betterment of his loved ones.

Warm weather > cold weather.

Time seems to drag longer than it used to. Kieron isn't sure why.

SUPER ticklish!

Low pain tolerance.

He cares for his little sister and prides himself on being an older brother.

Only uses unscented lotions and body soap to maintain his soft and sensitive skin.

Guildmark Location: Left Pectoral (Green).

Raev Fullbuster

She is 12 years old (Aquarius).

Magic: None.

Likes: cold weather, dancing.

Hobbies: people watching, crafting.

Raev is the most respectful child in Fairy Tail.

Her love language is Acts of Service.

She likes to have small talk with strangers (without weirdo vibes).

Juvia, her mother, has had the biggest impact on her life and view on the world that surrounds her.

Sees no real need or motivation to learn magic. She prefers to stay out of danger or risks.

Raev sleeps with a Rain Doll that her father, crudely, made her as a toddler.

Pet Peeve: loud or obnoxious mouth sounds.

Guildmark Location: Right Hand (Blue).

Kay Fernandes

She is 18 years old (Cancer).

Magic: Telekinetic Weaponary, Enchant Magic

Likes: fashion, journaling.

Hobbies: scrapbooking, playing cards.

Super sweet, but also a hardass.

She knows her worth.

LOVES silence or quiet time.

Inherited her mother’s glare.

She braids her hair for a simple go-to hairstyle.

An S-Class mage.

Kay is lesbian (attracted to non-men).

Her favorite memory is when she “won” a “battle” against her mother and father as a young child. It motivated her to become a great mage.

The water fountain in the center of Magnolia is her happy place!

A garden with a variety of flowers, and the occasional edible fruit or vegetable, is in plan after hearing it would make Chimera visit her more often.

HORRIBLE handwriting. Kay tries her best.

Guildmark Location: Right Shoulder (Dark Purple).

Lunaria Dragneel

She is 17 years old (Capricorn).

Magic: Celestial Fire

Likes: sweets, shiny items.

Hobbies: treasure hunting, sparing.

She sleeps in the starfish position (ever since she was a baby).

Stubborn.

A ring of pure gold and jewel accents belonging to her grandfather, Jude, was sold by Lunaria after learning of the mistreatment her mother faced from him.

The attention she receives during her birthday makes her feel conceited and uncomfortable.

Her favorite book is the first, award winning, book her mother wrote.

Her speech is clear and sweet to the ear, despite the foul language she, often, uses.

While her father is on missions, she is an innocent angel with the guild; however, when her mother is away, she is a true carbon copy of her father.

She has stolen the prized crown of Fiore once for a quick ego boost (it did not end well for her).

Guildmark Location: Right Hand (Red).

Ilyana Dreyar

She is 18 years old (Gemini).

Magic: Energy Manipulation

Likes: games, collecting crystals.

Hobbies: hiking, drawing.

Daddy’s Girl.

Socially awkward.

She either doesn’t speak or rambles.

Labeled as a “dumb blonde” (and she DEFINITELY is not).

She plays dumb when convenient (and it works).

Her hairstyle intentionally has “horns” and a “halo”.

Ilyana has a big, fat crush on Timur. She does her best to hide it (and fails).

Such a pretty doll when outside, an average young adult inside her home.

The relationship with her parents is a bit strained since her true colors are shown with them and not others. Her outbursts and mood swings worry her parents.

Any emotionally charged image or video WILL make her cry and sob.

After her great-grandfather's death, Makarov, she felt the pain and anguish her father felt.

She does not know she has a grandfather. Laxus plans on keeping it that way.

Guildmark Location: Left Shoulder Blade (Black).

Viktor Dreyar

He is 13 years old (Leo).

Magic: Healing Magic

Likes: spreading rumors, organizing.

Hobbies: socializing, basketball.

He is much taller than your average pre-teen.

Viktor does know he has a grandfather, yet has no interest in learning more of him. Laxus does not know this.

His favorite holiday is Valentine's Day, because of all the drama and breakups that occur (free entertainment).

His attention has gradually been more fixated on his guildmate and best friend, Lianne.

Tomi, a young bulldog, is his pet. Viktor would risk his life for Tomi.

Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly, his room is the neatest of the FT Next Gen.

The veins in his body are vibrant and clearly shown on his skin. He was teased for it during grade school.

Guildmark Location: Right Forearm (Brown).

Chimera Strauss

She was born during the Fall, but her favorite season is Spring (despite being allergic to pollen).

Horrified and entranced by the ocean.

Cares about the environment and cringes when someone litters.

Her mother brags that Chimera got her charm and looks from her, meanwhile, her father insists that Chimera got her strength from him.

She loved playing pretend and dressing up with Ilyana when they were kids.

Her bad habit is picking the dead skin off the sides of her nails.

Mourning doves are her favorite animal.

She wears reading glasses when needed.

She is 17 years old (Libra)

Magic: Aera, The Golden Giant

Likes: fruits and berries, stuffed toys.

Hobbies: working out, gardening.

Can be nasty and mean if provoked.

She finds a lot of things cute.

People like to look at her.

She can be described as “the epitome of beauty and grace”.

She is an S-Class mage.

Chimera is bisexual (attracted to two or more gender identities).

Guildmark Location: Right Thigh (White).

Deidre

Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but is an excellent liar excuse maker.

Uses spare time to play with makeup or apply it to her brothers, organizing her jewelry, or appreciating scenic views.

Bonds with her mother by going on mommy-daughter trips.

She HATES finding hair on her tongue and starts to gag and cough for a good while.

She never bickers with her brothers, but does put her foot down when necessary.

Uses fruity scented perfumes.

She also hates animal print fabric and leather items.

She is 16 years old (Aries).

Magic: Mind Control, Telekinesis

Likes: fireflies, playing with makeup.

Hobbies: meditating, cooking.

TOO sweet.

She wishes the best for her enemies.

Can be vain.

She looks at the bright side of things.

Inherited a goddess-like nose (hooked).

Deidre has multiple mirrors in her room

She is AroAce (little to no romantic or sexual attraction).

Guildmark Location: Tongue (Light Blue).

Giacomo

Nasty attitude and softens after a good while of knowing someone (tsundere).

When nervous he bounces his leg and pinches his skin.

Most would state Giacomo has a "punk soul".

He is a stereotypical, moody teenager.

He is so so nosy observant and notes what people do.

Never takes advice from others and regrets it.

Does not like smiling or even being in pictures, but is in them for his parents' sake.

He respects the entities he communicates or interacts with.

He is 15 years old (Scorpio).

Magic: Entity Communication, Possession

Likes: wind chimes, soap operas.

Hobbies: being nosy observing, sleeping.

A severe case of resting bitch face.

Irritable.

He has the same nose as his father (a hooked nose).

Sassy.

He does love his family and Fairy Tail.

Giacomo gets along well with his siblings and cousins, especially Perkeo.

He has a crush on Aneira, but will not admit it.

Guildmark Location: Right Hip (Black).

Perkeo

He is quite the happy and chipper child!

He loves to mess with his father by misplacing items or trying to trick him into doing a chore that Perkeo did not want to do.

100% a Mama's Boy.

He is the "baby" of Fairy Tail, for now, and he relishes every second of it.

He sleeps in a fetal position or on his back (like a mummy).

He never swears in front of his parents.

Has a lisp.

He is 12 years old (Pisces).

Magic: Mimicry

Likes: horror, antique items.

Hobbies: collecting stickers, doing math.

He has a crush on Raev.

Guildmark Location: Right Side of Neck (Dark Blue).

Barnard

He somehow knows every rumor, piece of gossip, and new information before anyone else.

His dreams often lead him to the truth or best ending of a situation.

Socially awkward.

His parents encourage him to be himself.

Does not have close friends, or so he thinks, but he manages to get along with everyone.

Physical touch makes him uncomfortable.

He somehow sees the strangest moments occur within and outside the guild and no one believes him.

He is 17 years old (Cancer).

Magic: Telepathy, Sensory Manipulation

Likes: small spaces, taxidermy.

Hobbies: caring for his insects, collecting insect models.

Keeps to himself.

His love for bugs started as a child.

He deals with constant bed-head.

He works out with his father.

A generally anxious person.

Guildmark Location: Middle of Back (Red).

Lianne Groh

She isn't much of a drinker like her parents. She prefers water or pink lemonade over beer.

She has her grandfather's ex-metal arm in her room, which she stole after Guildarts was given a newer, better arm.

She is calm now, but as a toddler she was trouble at home and in school.

Her room and closet are disorganized enough that she finds items she believed she lost MONTHS later.

For comfort, she goes to her parents (who are emotionally present).

Her first memory is celebrating her fourth birthday surrounded by loved ones.

She is 13 years old (Taurus).

Magic: Trick Items, Reverse Magic

Likes: water, switchblades.

Hobbies: re-organizing her room, going out.

Guildmark Location: Left Ankle (Red).

Aneira Vastia

She is gullible.

Her head is, often, in the clouds.

Speaks three languages: Japanese, English, and Latin.

She is dubbed the most intelligent in her guild (Lamia Scale).

The ability to be evil is in her and no one wants to provoke her.

She does not like being called a liar or dishonest.

Her voice is squeaky and gentle.

Sees Gray Fullbuster like her uncle.

She smells like spearmint.

She is 17 years old.

Magic: Environmental Control, Ice Make

Likes: coffee, ice cream.

Hobbies: learning languages, daydreaming.

Aneira sees past Giacomo’s tough exterior and finds him attractive.

She is in Lamia Scale.

Guildmark Location: Left Hip (Dark Green).

Tiffany Lates

Such a cunt.

She is 17 years old (Aquarius).

Magic: None.

Likes: photography, work.

Hobbies: hosting photoshoots, competitive eating.

She has a romantic interest in Barnard.

Takes candid photos of her guild members, and other mages, to sell them to Sorcerer Weekly.

Math is not her strong suit, but somehow memorized multiple mathematical formulas.

She is in Blue Pegasus.

Guildmark Location: Right Pectoral (Pink).

Gaur Cheney

Emo.

He is 14 years old (Scorpio).

Magic: Palm Magic

Likes: butterflies, music boxes.

Hobbies: practicing tarot, exercising.

Small talk, awkward conversations, and uncomfortable silences are what he dislikes about public gatherings.

He maintains his long, natural nails with manicures.

He is in Sabertooth.

Guildmark Location: Left Arm (White).

Eris Eucliffe

Not emo.

She is 13 years old (Leo).

Magic: Solid Script, Doll Attack

Likes: poetry, dinosaurs.

Hobbies: baseball, origami.

Skin care is important to her, so she does what she can to maintain a healthy glow.

Red is her least favorite color (unless it's the shade of red Gaur’s eyes are).

She is in Sabertooth.

Guildmark Location: Right Forearm (Dark Blue).

MORE HEADCANONS

Gajeel dubbed his children the “Trouble Twins”.

Orsa and Timur sleep with a sleep mask on.

Viktor and Ilyana play video games together (and encourage their parents to join in).

Chimera noted her feelings for Kay before Kay came to the realization of how she felt about Chimera.

Ilyana and Barnard are besties despite not interacting too much; what is awkward silence to others, is comfortable silence with each other.

Ilyana and Tiffany can not stand each other. Tiffany tries to embarrass Ilyana when she can, but fails every time. Ilyana strains a smile when she has to interact with Tiffany.

Nashira and Timur often spar. Sieron watches them from a distance, rooting for Nashira.

Deidre, Chimera, and Ilyana enjoy having sleepovers and talk about their personal lives. It’s a manner of coping and venting about whatever is troubling them.

Laxus is in denial about Ilyana having a crush on Timur, so he often sends Timur away on important missions to keep him away.

Erza worries about her daughter pushing herself too much for the sake of living up to her “Fairy Princess” name. Jellal has similar concerns, but trusts that Kay can come to her senses when necessary, and if not, he will talk and guide her to inner peace.

Natsu loves his daughter to death and has coddled her a bit too much in the past, which led to Lunaria being bratty till she was humbled by Orsa and Chimera (multiple times).

The Redfox twins see Lucy and Juvia like their second mothers, while Pantherlily is seen as their gentle and trustworthy uncle. Jet and Droy are strange, yet kind, family friends.

Milianna has babysat Kay in the past. Kay would be elated whenever Milianna came over to watch over her. Milianna considers Kay dear to her and will protect her no matter the circumstance.

Gaur and Eris are good friends with Viktor, so much so that Viktor shares intel about Fairy Tail without realizing that information should not be shared (and vice versa).

Erik (Cobra) and Kinana love their son, so they show their love through leniency and giving Barnard a lot of freedom, which he doesn’t use much.

Lianne spends her time with her mother at Fairy Tail, but occasionally visits her father in Quarto Cerberus.

Happy tries to be wise with Lunaria, but it is not in his nature, so he ends up encouraging risky behavior.

Timur and Lunaria shared their first kiss with each other (accidental). No one knows about this kiss...yet.

I will come up with more headcanons! Please give me time to think of more OR please share your ideas with me!

[recurring-polynya]

Writing/Art Update 6.18.2024

I'm so sorry. I'm soooooo sorrrrrrrryyyyyyy.

It is June. School is out and the children are here. I am not good at writing in this conditions. It's not that I'm too busy, it's just that I get interrupted a lot and also, I can only write when my brain has a lot of alone time. I know this. I planned extensively that I was not going to have any goals for the summer because last summer was so frustrating and I still feel so, so, soooooo baaaaaad for not managing to write anything.

I put aside the thing I was having trouble with last week, and started writing a thing that I've wanted to write forever that baaaaaarely fits one of my prompts and I've written 2k words on it, but, like, 1 sentence at a time. It's got multiple [fill this in later] parts AND I'm not sure how to end it, and anytime I try to think about it, it just sliiiiides off my brain.

I have about 7 WIPs I want to work on (none of which are my requests) but I think that if I actually tried to write them, I would just stare blankly into space, the way I have stared blankly into space for the last two things I have tried to work on. I feel super duper bad because people sent me so many nice prompts and my brain is just too smooth to work on them. I know that me feeling bad about it doesn't help anything and that no one wants me to feel bad, but unfortunately, the feeling bad is obligatory.

A thing that did not help was that Mr P and I have spent the last two weeks d e v o u r i n g the Imperial Radch series and so all I want to think about is my favorite extremely problematic sci-fi military-empire complex instead of my favorite extremely problematic anime military-empire complex. (I think Old Man Yams and Anaander Mianaai:Vaguely Remorseful Edition would be besties). I finished the third one yesterday and I am holding myself back from reading them all again, immediately.

Every day I draw lieutenants. I have actually drawn all of the lieutenants at this point, but I think I want to re-draw Hinamori, because she was the second one I drew and isn't quite as good as the later ones. It's all just sketches and I am currently waffling on how much clean-up I want to do on this. One of the wolves inside of me wants to just leave them as they are, it was just a practice project. The other wolf says, you did all this work, would it be that terrible to do 10% more work to make it actually look good? (aka do an inking layer). It's also done on a very wide canvas and I need to figure out how to make a pan animation. I mean, I know how to do it in a very crude, manual way, but I feel like there must be a better solution (at least, a better solution that is not shelling out $20 for Procreate Dreams, which to be fair, is very cheap for an animation program and I am sure I would enjoy it). ANYWAY! Hopefully I will be done with that project this week!

I also made some bad cookies today. I am very bad at making cookies, but Lil P wanted to, so we did. They taste okay, but they are among the ugliest cookies I have ever made in my whole life.

I will try to be better next week!

[dreaming-in-prose]

to tremble on a new beginning

Summary: After training with Rhys to hone her powers, Feyre is exposed to parts of herself she would rather not face. At least, not just yet.

Read on AO3

I’ve always known this tradesman to be chatty, but with a few glasses of wine in him, Cassian seems only to be making matters worse. No training session with your favorite teacher today. We will train tomorrow.

The paper had appeared on the table in front of me as I read on the roof. I had been just about to pack up and go inside as the setting sun began to drench the skyline in a deep golden light.

Rhys had been away all day on errands. He promised to train with me when he returned, but as the day ticked on, the chances of having time to train became slimmer and slimmer.

With the paper, as always, appeared a pen.

I was planning on finding a way out of it anyway. My “favorite teacher” has too much of a tendency towards sadism.

The paper disappeared from my hands as I added the final period. I grimaced, thinking about it. Yesterday, we were practicing winnowing in the woods, and I had miscalculated by a few steps and found myself lodged in between the two arms of a bisected tree. Too exhausted to winnow out of the predicament, I had to ask Rhys to winnow us both out. Rhys had teased me mercilessly before using his own honed skills to transport us both back home. He had to take hold of my lower body to do it, hands gripping my hips, his hips pressed against mine to make enough contact to transport me safely. He managed to contain most of his jokes.

I meant no harm. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I would think you did that intentionally to get me into that position. If you need, we can keep practicing it until you’re comfortable asking for it directly.

I scoffed. 

I think you and your hand have developed a story quite different from reality.

The paper disappeared for longer this time. I had made my way down to the kitchen to put together a meal when it appeared on the counter in front of me. This time, in addition to Rhys’s careful handwriting, was a drawing. A crude depiction of two stick figures, one on all fours on an elevated platform, with the other behind it. Like how you see animals mate. A position not dissimilar to the one we had been forced to take the night before. An arrow pointed to the image, and accompanying the arrow was the text:

In case you need something to keep you and your hand occupied tonight in my absence.

I felt a smile widen on my face. His drawings were effective in their depictions but rudimentary.

If High Lord doesn’t work out for you, I think erotic artist could be your next vocation.

~~~~~

I felt a warm body press against me. His chest was hard and welcoming as his arms wrapped around me gently.

His tongue licked lazily along the outer shell of my ear as his hands ventured over the outside of my bra. I shuddered involuntarily at how good his touch felt.

Deftly, a second hand joined the first around my chest, unclasping the bra that I was wearing and helping me slide out of it fluidly. The bonds on my wrists unfurled to let the now useless item of clothing hit the floor and then immediately resecuring.

He inhaled sharply at the sight of my bare chest, and his familiar voice flooded my ears softly, gently, “You are so beautiful,” he purred, a glimmer of authenticity and directness I wasn’t used to from Rhys.

His hands continued their languorous touch around my breasts, heat building between my legs. I wanted him to touch me. Badly. But with my arms bound behind my back, I was powerless, and he was free to play with me as he desired.

His soft lips grazed my neck, and I gasped. Such a tease. He knew how he was unraveling me; I could tell by his sanguine chuckle in response to my squirming.

"Eager for more, Feyre dear?” his voice was just barely above a whisper, but I could feel the way it resonated in his chest.

Yes, please, more, I wanted to say, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I bit my lip to keep from speaking.

"Well, if you won’t say so, then I have no reason to increase my pace.”

His fingers grazed my breast, achingly slow as they spiraled into my raised nipples at the center. He must have seen the flush on my chest that gave away how turned on I was. Or maybe it was the way my breath hitched with every touch.

I didn’t have to look at him to know that he wore a mischievous smile, reveling in my wanting. The fingers of his left hand finally, finally took hold of my nipple and gently flicked it. The sensation was so overdue I nearly moaned even at the slight touch. The sound I did make garnered a response from him. Against my backside, I felt a new hardness meeting me. Through layers of clothes, I wish he would take off. Maybe I could speed him up, and get what I wanted from him.

I let my head fall back on his shoulder, my chest raising more into his hands, and didn’t hold back my moan as he repeated the action with my other breast. Though I was bound by him, that hardly made me powerless.

My mind slips away at the pleasure I want so desperately to allow myself to become my lust and desire. I want to give into the fire that beckons me from between my legs, but his hands don’t let me. They drift up from my breasts to my neck, my chin, turning my face to kiss me. I feel it resonate through the kiss, through the bond of our bargain.

Through that bond, I felt a whisper resonating in my mind, “This is more than lust. I want all of you. Everything. And I won’t stop until I get it."

Our lips didn’t break apart as his hands slid between my thighs, caressing so softly his touch was hardly noticeable. Well, it would be if all my focus wasn’t on it, plotting how to get more of it.

His fingers played lightly over my thighs, and the contact sent electricity up my body. I squirmed, breaking our kiss to let out a hard breath. My chest pounding like I had just been training, despite the fact that I couldn’t move. Was bound into place. My arms behind my back, pressing against him.

I wanted, needed, to feel him. If not inside me, then against me. My hands began making quick work of the buttons they could access. Bound at the wrist, I managed to undo the bottom buttons of his shirt before my reach gave out.

I felt a purr behind me as his shirt disappeared magically.

"If that’s what you wanted, you could have just asked.”

My body ached at all the new places we touched skin-to-skin as if to say, “I want more than that. I want all of it. All of you.” But I wouldn’t let it speak. Just allowed my hands to venture even further down until they reached that bulge in his pants.

Unfamiliar and yet, so familiar. Had I really never touched Rhys like this? It felt like I had a million times. More. It felt natural as I slid my hand up and down the hardness I could feel and felt him shudder against me.

"Please,” I whispered softly. So softly, I doubted he could even hear the word that I found it so difficult to give up.

"Hmmm?” He managed, putting on a disguise of aloof coyness that barely concealed his want, the madness the contact was driving him to. I felt him stiffen in my hands, impossibly. I felt him contain gentle bucks of his hips at the contact. It seems we were both trying to play cool.

Louder this time, I managed, “Please, I need you."

His fingers pressed firmly into my sex after I said it. The contact was enough to send me into a frenzy, one which I didn’t care to contain.

His breath hitched as I bucked up into him. His fingers moved calmly as they slid up and down, touching that electrifying spot between my legs and then moving away from it so that I was left wanting, still.

I whined, bucking more furiously into him. Through that mental connection we had, the one that we forged together Under the Mountain, I sent him the need and the want and the fire. How much I craved him. I felt his hips against my back, suddenly fully exposed against me. The same magic that had undressed him had removed my panties, and I lay bare against his body, our combined body heat and lust and desire mingling into an intoxicating cocktail that somehow drove me even deeper into my body, further from my mind. I needed him. Now.

"Rhys, I need you to fuck me. Please. Don’t make me wait anymore.” The words quivered on my lips, and I could feel him swallow at the sound of them as if he had been salivating for me.

"As you wish.” Was all he said as he gently repositioned me - getting me onto my knees at the edge of the bed.

I heard his feet gently make contact with the floor as he stood behind me, hand caressing my back and my ass, which was exposed to him now in a way that wasn’t before. I could practically feel the way his eyes raked over my form, my no-doubt glistening sex, that part of me, too, begging for him.

My shoulders pressed into the bed, arms still firmly bound together. I felt his cock teasing my entrance. I didn’t want to wait anymore - I couldn’t. I was about to implode at the thought of him when he finally let me have what I would completely unravel for him.

He spread my wetness over the tip of his cock. My hips pushed back greedily, but he maintained enough distance to keep me from getting my way.

I felt his hands grab my hips, leaning down to give my shoulder blades a kiss before slowly filling me with his member. My breath left me in a whimper, overwhelmed by the long-awaited fullness and the pleasure that shuddered through me. He let out a breathy moan...

I shot up in my bed as the wind clattered against the windows. The haze of the dream washed away as I took in the details of the room, scanning it the way I did back at home in the woods. Nothing was there. A storm raged outside, with winds picking up to match.

I was safe.

I was suddenly aware of the wetness between my legs. I had been having a dream about Rhys, about him and I….

I got up on shaky legs and walked to the bathing room. Splashing water on my face. As I made my way back into bed, I noticed the sheet of paper on my nightstand, Rhys’s drawing from earlier. A person on all fours being fucked by one standing behind them.

Is that where my dream had come from? I tried to shake off how turned-on I was by it.

"No more flirting before bed," I murmured to myself, snuggling back up into the still-warm covers. Sleep came easily.

The next morning, though, I awoke with a pit in my stomach. I had to train with Rhys today.

As I went through my morning, endless half-baked excuses flooded my brain: I didn’t sleep well last night, I want to paint today, I think Mor needs me for a fashion-related emergency…but none of them were good enough to convince Rhys. Our training time ticked closer and closer without an adequate thought entering my mind.

“Shall we?” Rhys said gently, appearing behind me with shocking quietness. I could feel the heat of his breath on my neck and detested the molten reaction it caused inside of me. His smell, sea salt and jasmine, threatened to lull me into a mindless haze.

I clenched my teeth and nodded, resigned to my fate.

~~~~

“We can have our lesson here today,” Rhys said, gesturing to the sitting room at the front of the house.

I blinked the confusion from my face. I could hardly control my powers enough to risk being near civilization when I practice, let alone inside a home in the middle of a bustling city.

With an eyebrow cocked, I said, “If you want to get a house I think you can go ahead and buy it, you don't need me burning down this one as an excuse.”

He looked at me and chuckled softly, those violet eyes wandering over my confused face.

“We’re going to be practicing a different kind of power today, Feyre,” he said languidly. “I’d like to practice some of your daemati abilities.”

My eyes narrowed. We had been practicing my mental shielding since I first started visiting night court. I thought I had gotten decent at it, maybe not good, but I practiced it constantly. Keeping my shield up at all times.

As if reading my thoughts, Rhys said, “Something more advanced than shielding.”

He sat on one edge of the red couch that lived at the heart of the space and beaconed me to join him. I did. The sofa was comfortable and well-worn in. Its back was just low enough that a pair of Illyrian wings could be draped over it and rest comfortably against the back. Instead of facing the rest of the room, we faced each other.

I gave the room an instinctual glance. The temperature in here was perfect, even considering what I imagine was a crisp late-winter morning outside. Even so, the hearth across from the couch had not been lit. The smell of smoke still lingered from the fire I had created the night before.

The light shone in large panes from the large windows, illuminating the beautiful man before me.

Rhys was positioned towards me, with his ankle resting on his knee and his hands casually joined in his lap. He waited for me to settle in and then began speaking.

“I’d like you to practice inserting false thoughts into my mind. It can be anything you’d like. The most difficult part of false thoughts is to make them convincing to the person who you are giving them to, so please, Feyre darling, try your best to produce something believable.”

He smirked, and I felt the runway of our bond widen as he lowered his mental shield just slightly, opening a small chamber in his mind. I knew why he was doing it; creating this sort of mental openness felt like being exposed to someone who had not trained to guard their mind. Most people felt like this, unintentionally and unknowingly exposed. Completely open. Just waiting to meet a person who had reason to play with their thoughts.

I guess I could be one of those people.

I sat for a moment and tried to think of a compelling story to share with him, but my mind kept wandering to catch glimpses of those long fingers. So casually binding to each other, a familiar warmth began pooling in my stomach as I tried to convince myself not to get lost in the memory of my dream the night before. I closed my eyes to concentrate. Shutting out all other information tended to help, and picked my mind for a vision to send to him. I started it gently:

All of us together, laughing over a glass of wine. He and Cassian sitting on opposite sides of the little dining area of the kitchen, with everyone else populating the space in between. Their eyes make contact as the chatter continues. Cassian holds his gaze, not looking away for even a moment.

Solid and beautiful like a mountain lion, Cassian puts one knee on the table. Disregarding everyone else in the room, he crawls over the space between them, glasses shattering to the ground in his wake.

With an unnatural swiftness, Cassian makes his way to Rhy’s lap. Cassian’s weight is warm and welcome as his best friend, his commander, straddles him. There was no hesitation as Cassian laced his fingers through Rhy’s hair and pulled them into a passionate, shared kiss.

I felt his laugh before I heard it. It prompted me to pull out of my mind and his. My mouth was dry from the effort.

“Good first attempt,” he purred, his cunning eyes smiling at me. I felt his mental wall lift back up, blocking my access to his mind. “That seemed like a well-rehearsed fantasy. Is that what you think about when I’m off on business, and you’re left to entertain yourself?”

I responded with a rude gesture.

He let out a soft, low chuckle. His eye contact didn’t break when he laughed, inviting me to answer his question.

When it became apparent I wasn’t going to respond, he spoke again.

“It does help if you know something about the context of their life. Though not necessary, disguising the artificial thought in a common one can make it more …. convincing.” He encouraged. I felt that mental wall lower again, inviting me to try again.

I sat back again and closed my eyes, trying to decide what to place in his mind. What does Rhys think about?

Probably not Cassian, fair enough. Did he think of me?

We flirted often, sometimes even so much that I could have believed there was sincerity behind it. Sincerity from me, that maybe I wanted him. But was there any sincerity from him?

When we were teasing each other last night, drawing those lewd pictures, did he come home after and think of me in that very position? The fantasy formed in my mind. I could picture it perfectly:

Him winnowing home from his mission and walking into his bedroom, assuming I was asleep in my own, but when he opened his door, I was there lying on his bed. With only the light of the fire to see, he would take one, two steps forward before it became clear what exactly I was doing.

My body covered in the smallest bits of red lace, eyes glazed with lust. His eyes would slide down my now fuller form. Admiring the curve of my breasts and the contour of my waist before finally venturing down. Slowly, like honey, his eyes would land to see my hand gently and indolently touched between my legs, a moan passing from my lips as I purr, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Moving hungrily to my knees, I would lift my body so we were face to face, pulling his face in for a kiss. Leaning into him, I could smell him, salt water and jasmine and nighttime and his sweat, musky and manly and…

I felt a cool, midnight laugh from Rhys and was brought back into reality. My focus widened until I was aware again of my body. I was suddenly cognizant of my teeth biting on my lip and could once again feel the soft nap of the velvet couch under my hands.

“Prick,” I hissed at him, hoping the heat in my cheeks his injected fantasy had caused me wasn’t too noticeable.

“If you know someone well enough, you can pursue latent fantasies as a strategy, too.” He smirked, his chest moving gently, accompanying his soft laugh.

His eyes sharpened as they landed on me, my anger still bubbling under my skin. “I haven’t read your mind if that’s what your thinking. If that was similar to what you were contemplating about doing last night,, it’s a testament to my skill of knowing you, not any amount of mental invasion.” He blinked the bit of genuine softness at the admission away before saying, “But I’ll leave my door unlocked tonight just in case.”

I let out a sharp breath, not letting him get the satisfaction of a full laugh.

Our training session continued for some time, as I injected ideas of things mundane and exciting into his mind. Each time he gave me feedback, and we started again. It was a dance that I felt more and more comfortable partaking in the longer we did it. The ideas I was sending down the bond, I could tell, were still too me. In order to master this skill I had to be convincingly him. Not just present a thought, but masquerade it as one of his own.

Like fire catching, the idea developed in my mind and I recentered to send it down the open runway between our minds.

A thought of wanting to go out and fly. Looking out the window, the sky was beautiful and cloudless, with a hint of spring warmth had made its way into the winter chill. I could feel the tug it would have on his heart, wanting to go out there and enjoy the world from above, feel the cool breeze and the warm, direct sun. The smell of winter tinged with the freshness of spring and new growth. To look down on the bustling streets of Velaris, his home, from a perfect blue sky.

I sent that to him - with urgency.

Across the couch from me, Rhys’ back straightened. I saw his breath hitch as his eyes flitted to the window in the door to observe the day outside. And then, as those same violet eyes turned back to me, a half-smile gracing his face.

“Well done,” he said, eyes glittering with pride, “you have made a good point. I think I would like to go out for a flight.” He stood to leave, the couch creaking as his weight was lifted from its edge. I could feel the cold metal return at the end of our bond as his wall went back up.

“Are we done for the day, then?”

“Yes, I suppose we are. Good work today.” He turned to walk towards the stairs, exposing the back of his tunic to me. No slits for wings. He must be going to change.

“Oh, and Feyre,” he turned to face me, his eyes half-lidded with mischief, “you may want to work on keeping your mental walls up when you sleep. Though your dreams are delicious to wake up to, you may not want to expose…” he paused, a smile cracking through his face before continuing “that side of yourself to just anyone.”

The heat in my cheeks was immediate. Oh, Cauldron, I sent him that dream through the bond?

“Don’t let it go to your head.” I clenched my jaw, trying to come off as ferocious instead of defensive, “It was just because your messages were the last thing I looked at before sleeping.”

That wasn’t as good of an excuse as I had hoped. In fact, it sounded like an admission to rereading our messages.

I got up, too, unable to meet Rhys’ gaze, as I stormed up the stairs to my room and slammed the door behind me. The familiar coziness of my room felt like the perfect escape.

My mind was tired from the lessons, but still I double-checked that my mental barrier was up. Settling inside of myself, I checked that that concrete wall had no cracks or crevices that someone could use to access those parts of me.

My entire body was flushed. My heart was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears. But, at the same time, in the depth of my stomach was liquid heat, stirring deliciously at the thought of Rhys experiencing that last night.

Was that why he sent me that vision today? As a nod to the dream? He was such a merciless flirt. I couldn’t even dare to consider that it may be genuine. Of course, he took the opportunity to fuck with me. That’s what Rhys does.

I sat down on the edge of my bed. As I did, a paper note appeared next to me, with Feyre written in delicate, well-practiced script on its back—Rhys’s handwriting.

I opened the letter, the page containing a single line of text:

I’m sorry, Feyre. Can I make it up to you?

A goading prompt. I didn’t even deign to touch it. The pen that came with it clattered on the ground, filling the silence of the room for a few seconds before the quiet settled over it again like a heavy blanket.

I spent the rest of the day reading. On the roof, in bed, on the couch, but I didn’t see Rhys by the time I went to bed that night. After the sun had set, I tucked myself into bed. Training my magic caused even my body to become exhausted from the effort, like I had just run a marathon just from the training time I had put in with Rhys. But still, I forced myself to expend the extra effort of fortifying my mental block.

~~~

Rhys and I are on the rooftop of the townhouse. I’m sitting in his lap like I did at the Court of Nightmares, body splayed over him, legs spread. We’re both fully clothed, but one of his hands has glided up my skirt. He is touching me in a way that feels so good I think I might combust from all the heat building. He begins whispering in my ear, telling me how good I am doing and how much he wants me. Every word from his mouth is another convincing argument for my lust to spill over. And then it does. I try to remain as silent as possible as my body tenses on him. The wash of pleasure is intense and eclipsing. His breath is hot against my ear, brings me back to this world. He purrs, asking me if I want another one. I swallow the dryness from my throat and nod. His hand begins anew, and that heat begins building again until-

I woke up with a start. Bolting up in bed, my eyes automatically honed in on my desk. Like I was a starving hunter and had finally found my prey.

My body was moving before my brain caught up. The room was still dark, and my eyes not yet adjusted; I navigated based on memory alone. I walked to my desk where Rhys’s letter from earlier sat, still untouched. The pen that came with it had rolled to the edge of the desk. My eyes had begun to adjust, and I quickly grabbed it and scrawled,

Were you serious about your door being unlocked tonight?

I held my breath, waiting for it to disappear. In my depths, I hoped it did before I decided to turn around and throw it into the embers of the fire still crackling at the foot of my bed.

The paper dematerialized from my hand right when the argument to throw it in the fire seemed to take the lead.

The next few moments felt like a lifetime. They moved impossibly slow, and in each passing moment, I managed to conjure and consider the possibilities I had not given my time to consider before writing the note: What would I do if he said no? What would I do if he said yes?

I felt the singe of magic in my nose as the paper appeared back in front of me, a new line added:

Come find out.

My heart beat so hard it drowned out my thoughts. Even the ones telling me I shouldn’t.

Stripping off my silk night court pajamas, I reached into one of my drawers and pulled out the smallest, laciest things I could easily grab. I put them on my body in a rush and walked to the door to my bedroom and down the hall before I could reconsider.

My heart paused as I palmed the doorknob. What if it was locked? Was I crazy for doing this?

Before I could convince myself otherwise, I cracked open the door, willing my bravery to last for just a moment more. In the mute lighting of the room, I caught a glimpse of him.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but black, silk sleeping trousers. He looked up at me with something mischievous twinkling in the familiar purple of his eyes.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you. I-” I hesitated, clenching my fists by my side, “I want you.”

He stood from the bed, and I was dazzled by his form. Even with the goggles of familiarity, Rhys was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Seeing his chest exposed and his hair mussed from sleep, I felt myself swallow hard before I could contain the reaction. At that, he smiled and closed the space between us. One hand on my lower back and the other gently leading my chin up to look at him. He looked down at me with those beautiful, starry eyes. The points of contact sent bursts of light through my veins, pooling in my center into molten heat.

“Are you sure about this, Feyre?” He asked, purring my name. I watched as his eyes roved around my face, taking in my features. I caught the twitch of a smile tugging at Rhys’s lips as he awaited my reply.

“Yes. I want you.” I said, my voice deceptively confident.

“As you wish.”

His fingers guided me up to a kiss.

The contact was hesitant at first. Timid. Our modest kissing quickly grew ravenous, and I felt my hands begin to travel of their own volition, gliding up the rich skin of his chest and into his hair. My fingers navigated their way through his dark hair with remarkable ease. Like they had done that very action endless times. Like his body was my own and that I had been cultivating a familiarity with it in every moment, knowingly or not.

His hand had dropped from my chin, winding around my waist and pulling me closer. His heat, the feeling of his arms wrapped around me, I would melt in his arms before we got to the bed. My body acted of its own accord as my mind ceased to function: all my thoughts became dedicated to memorizing the points of contact, the feeling of him against me, as if I may never feel it again.

I knew magic was real; I could weld it, but there was something different about this. Touching with him, being with him, it felt outside of me. Created for me. Divine. Magic took concentration, cultivation, practice, but this felt like it was tapping into a part of me that I hadn’t even dreamed of being there.

Rhys picked me up, hooking a hand under my thigh to rest my entire weight on his hips, never breaking the kiss. My heels hooked together behind his back - at least I could possibly pretend it was for security and not just to satiate that need that was screaming from inside of me to bring him closer, as close as possible. After a few steps, I felt one of his hands come behind my back to lay me down on the bed.

I could feel his hesitation to let his hands wander. His jaw clenched in a signal of self-control.

“Please, I want this,” I said, finally breaking the kiss.

His eyes were scanning my face, double-checking that there was truly no hesitation. On his own expression, it was a combatting of lust and… something else. Worry? Apprehension? Caution? His mouth smiled hungrily, salaciously, while his eyes betrayed it, revealing that something else existed under the surface.

Like a cloud passing in front of the moon, he blinked, and it was gone. What replaced it was a look of unmistakable desire. His eyes locked on mine confidently, and it was a moment of stillness before he resumed the kiss.

But I could tell this time it was fleeting as he began kissing down my neck. He placed a languid trail of kisses on my neck, stopping to suck greedily on the area where neck became shoulder.

He broke the contact long enough to say, “Is this all you want? Or would you prefer I tied your arms behind your back?”

I could feel myself blushing at the remark. But my words caught in my throat. I wouldn’t say no to any of it, not with him. I wanted him in every way, everywhere.

After a moment of silence, the sound of his laugh washed over me like a wave.

The blush crept down my chest as Rhys's hands moved swiftly behind my back to unclasp my bra. His eyes, movement somnolent with lust, traced my now exposed form. After a beat, he leaned back over me to lick lazily around my breasts. Fire surged through me when his tongue flicked my nipple. I gasped, and my back arched into the touch.

He took his time with one and then moved to the other, flicking lazily and palming my needy chest. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I pushed him off my body and sat up, Rhys doing the same. Before he had time to say whatever vulgar thought he was formulating, I pulled him back in for a kiss. Urgently.

My hands now were the ones wandering, over his chest, down his stomach, and over the hardness at the front of his pants. I caressed the length of him through the silk, and he moaned gratefully at the friction. His breath grew ragged as I continued stroking him, soft but persistent.

Had I really never done this with him before? It felt so... natural. Easy. Being with him this way felt as instinctive as breathing or eating. My hand stroked up in such a rhythm of familiarity I could have sworn was innate. Where being with Tamlin or Isaac had felt like feeding an urge, it never felt like satisfying the hunger entirely. Even a kiss with Rhys felt pure, satiating. For him to be inside of me? I could only imagine the bliss of being fucked by him. A renewed heat surged inside of me at the thought.

"How do you want me?" I said, pulling out of the kiss.

"However you want to be had, Feyre darling." His eyes were glazed, chest heaving. Despite his attempt at repose, I could tell: Rhys was being unwound by me.

Without as much as a thought, I turned to position myself on all fours, the way I had been dreaming about, literally, since Rhys got back.

I felt him move to his feet behind me. One of his golden hands glided up the curve of my hip. He inhaled sharply.

My hands gripped the satin sheets, trying to ground myself back to my body as my mind threatened to give out after bathing in the cocktail of embarrassment and excitement that was flooding it.

Slowly, slowly, I watched his form move, featureless in the dark. He kneeled behind me, and I felt as, instead of his cock, sloppy, soft kisses along the backs of my thighs. Magic singed my nose as I felt my panties disappear, and I was fully exposed to him. For him.

His breath was hot against me as he moved closer and closer to my sex. I could have sworn I was quivering in anticipation. I wanted more. I wanted all of him inside me.

My words were slurred on the lust, “I want you inside of me, Rhys.”

I heard him grunt at the words, pulling off from my body long enough to say, “We have a lifetime for that, Feyre. Let me treasure every step of it.”

His tongue, broad and warm, licked languidly up the entirety of my sex. I groaned at the relief of the touch.

That sound seemed to awaken something in him. Something less controlled. He buried his face in me, his tongue undulating against me in a way that caused my knees to tremble and my breath to turn shaky.

He feasted on me on his knees until I felt my release wash over me. Again and again and again. Until I could not speak and could hardly move.

Only then did he crawl into bed with me, pulling me into his own body. I felt his hardness against me, but it was unspoken between us.  We have a lifetime for that .

He kissed my temple gently and then snuggled into my neck, pulling me impossibly closer to his own body.

“You don’t have to put your mental shield up tonight as you sleep. I’d love to get inspiration for the morning.” He teased in barely above a whisper.

I smiled. For the morning.

Sleep swept over me, and the day ended for the first time in a long time with an optimism of the day, of the life, to come.

~~~

[magicalara]

Mister Santa

Kuroshitcember day 11 is here! I thought this prompt was absolutely adorable and so enjoy reading about Finny’s letter to Santa. Also, I apologize for slacking on the other prompts, I just finished finals week and it was rough to say the least haha.

As always, thank you @eemoo1o-animoo​ for creating the prompts which you can find  here !

Snowing. It was snowing. Outside the manor. Snowing!

Of course, to the other members of the Phantomhive manor, snow wasn’t a new thing. It happened in the winter season and was to be expected each year. However, to a certain young boy, it was a joyous event that he had never been able to see before. Sure, he felt the cold while he was labeled as “Subject 12” but to actually be able to touch the cold substance that fell from the sky? Finnian almost couldn’t believe it to be true.

His excitement increased even more when Sebastian, as his teacher, told him about Christmas when he questioned why shops put out decorations. A day full of presents and joy, there was no way that Finny was to miss out on this.

Taking this as an opportune moment to allow the young boy to practice his writing skills, Sebastian tasked Finny one cold day when working in the garden just wouldn’t have been possible with writing a letter to Saint Nicholas himself. The butler even promised to hand-deliver it if the boy did well enough. After knowing that Finny would be occupied for long enough, Sebastian let him write his letter, opting to do some housework in the meantime.

~.~.~.~.

Later that night, Sebastian went back to the room he had left Finnian in to complete his letter and was surprised to see the boy sound asleep, letter in hand. It would appear that the boy waited for the butler to come back to see his handy work of a messily sealed red envelope with what Sebastian assumed to be the letter to the fantastical Santa Claus inside.

Heaving a sigh, Sebastian walked over to the boy and pocketed the envelope for later before lifting the boy into his arms and placing him in his bed. He walked out of the room, ensuring to blow out the candle with a full plan of discarding the letter and pretending as if an elf had taken it to the North Pole and just waiting for the boy to forget about the whole thing.

Before he could toss the envelope into the fire, though, Sebastian noticed a drawing that included crude images of what he could only assume to be himself, the young master, and Finnian together around a christmas tree. Letting curiosity get the better of him, Sebastian decided to open the letter to see just what the boy who had never even seen snow could have possibly written to jolly ol’ Saint Nick.

Dear Santa

Hello! My name is Finnian and I live with the young master and Sebastian. They treat me very well. Sebastian told me that if I write to you I can get a gift! The gift is not for me. If you are to bring a gift, please bring it to the young master instead. His name is Ciel and he is around my age too. He saved me from the bad people and I want him to feel as happy as I do when I go outside. The young master is very kind so please give him something really nice. He gave me my hat though I don’t really use it right now because the snow won’t let me outside. Maybe you can get him a hat too. That would be nice.

You could even get something for Sebastian too! He helped the young master save me and I’m very greatfull for him too. I don’t know much about Sebastian but maybe a hat will be good for him too. I’m sure he’d like that. 

I hope you are well Mister Santa. Happy Christmas!

Finnian <3

[finniestoncrane]

Hi hi Finnie!! Congrats on reaching 1k! I've been going back n forth if i should request this because,,, nervessss, but can I pleasse request no.9 ever fallen in love with someone?

I'm 5'3, have blonde buzzed hair and a curvy, chubby body. I'm afab genderfluid & bi so i joke my gender and sexuality is just everything/everything XD

I LOOOVE making really bad jokes, like dad jokes, puns, dirty jokes, and some of my favourite jokes dont have spoken punchlines so i stare at people with a goofy face until they get it :D I love listening to other people rant about their passions and learning new things, even if i dont fully get it, and enjoy being able to do the same back.

I'm very creative so most of my hobbies are with my hands, from drawing, to sewing, resin and woodwork, i like to try a bit of everything. I really enjoy seeing a finished product that i made on my own! I also like reading and playing dnd so I'm really good at crafting strategies or creative ways around problems in the game (and describing how i get to defeat my enemies, because im squeamish with real blood, but i love some good ol fictional gore.)

I'm very outgoing and bubbly, and i dislike being formal with people. I'd much rather be my casual and crude self, and skip any awkwardness. I am naturally very loud so i can have some issues around quieter people but i try my best to adjust so I'm not cutting them off. I also have a very dirty mind and am a very physically affectionate person, I'm always flirting with, hugging someone, linking arms, or holding hands, whether were platonic or romantic!

Asfghgjfla thank you for letting me ramble and for doing all of these for us!!

🎀 No.9: Ever Fallen In Love With Someone 🎀

tell me a little bit about yourself and i'll give you a rogue pairing a/n: ok i am bestowing upon you what i consider to be the greatest gift because truly you just suit him so well 💚 1k milestone info! 🔞minors dni🔞 • kofi • tag: finnie1k

ok this is my own headcanon but it's practically legit canon in my mind by this point, but thick bodies are his favourite type of body so checkmark there

also, exceptional gender and sexuality choice. i feel like yeah he's a cis bisexual boy, but also i don't think he cares enough to put any sort of label on it, and he has more important things to be concerned about, so he'll identify as whatever the fuck makes you leave him alone and stop questioning him quickest

look i'm not pulling out my files on his dialogue in the games, but trust me when i say that this is the dorkiest dweeb in the universe and his ability to make the dumbest jokes and be so satisfied with himself knows no bounds

good about the listening thing, because you won't be allowed to get a word in edgeways. and besides, he's the best, so he deserves everyone's attention at all times while he talks about whatever the hell he pleases (but he might also let you tell him about something you love if he's too tired to talk)

yeah, stinky boy is down there in his little workshop using his little raccoon paws to get up to all sorts of nonsense so he'd be super pleased to have someone with some capabilities in that kind of area to help him with some projects

and being able to be strategic and creative with problem solving? sounds like someone just got promoted to riddler apprentice and chief "evil plan" coordinator

outgoing and bubbly are probably going to grate on him but god knows he needs someone to be the face of his operation, and it'd be good for him to have a brightness in his life

also it's fine to be loud because you need to be able to cut through either the sound of his welding or yelling or ranting

and truly very much so he needs physical attention and affection, which i'm sure he'd warm to eventually if you just keep at it. relentlessly, even if he's pretending to hate it and it's making him grumpy

[autumnslance]

(@driftward) Let's see. Let's Get ((REAL)) fic writer asks, for.. ✨, 💫,🎀,🎀,🎀,💌

*screeches*

Someday I am making a prompt list and there'll be no numbers or letters or symbols, just the questions so folks who aren't menaces have to put the full text in the Ask.

Anyroad. Scheduling maintenance on our local bot later. For now:

✨What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

Fics like "When Everything Changes" and "Where the Skies Are Safe" are works I'm quite fond of, but are hard to sell to fandom readers either here or on Ao3; they're from the perspective of my OCs as small children, and very few people want to read kid fic.

But a chunk of my literature studies were in YA and Kid Lit, as I originally was dual-majoring an Education degree, and I've always found getting into a child's (or pet's) mindsets and perspectives to be an interesting exercise as a writer, and finding what new info it can reveal that an adult POV won't notice or would see differently.

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

Any and all of them, but incoherent screeching is always fun, as are rambles about what someone liked, maybe even the why if they can articulate it (if not, that's cool, just copy-pastes of favorite lines with keysmash responses are great too).

🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing

x3?!

FINE.

-I am a decent mimic; I can copy a style and voice patterns pretty well, enough to make what I'm writing read or "sound" like the style I'm playing in. The attempt in many of my works to feel like quest text or the official stories on the Lodestone is intentional, and I feel good when I get comments on it cuz that's the goal.

-I can drop some evocative, pithy lines to make one giggle and/or break one's heart.

-My constant replaying and revisiting the text, and talking to/reading about others' canon-centric takes on characters and situations, means my NPC characterizations tend to be good. Which is good practice for making my own OCs distinct people that fit into the world well.

���share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

(Again, with the caveat I've been in a bit of a slump break since BSotP, here's a bit of more the Thancred in the First fic I don't...think? I've shared? If I have, what of it! Below the cut cuz someone asked multiple questions so this got long.)

“So can you build it?” Thancred asked.

The blacksmith looked over his crude drawings and the schematics pulled from the Tower’s archives, as well as the detailed descriptions Thancred had painstakingly written with Gridick’s aid. “I think so; enough to get a prototype working, and then we can go from there.”

Thancred nodded. “Do let me know,” he said, offering his coins for the initial deposit.

It had been several months since that first disastrous patrol. Thancred had been on a few other patrols since, as well as forays into the forest on his own. The more common wildlife wasn’t much of a problem, but the sin eaters, when stumbled across, left him feeling as if his simple blades were no longer adequate.

So he had delved into the Tower’s archives, seeking out weapon schematics. The Exarch couldn’t say which time period the Tower had come from when summoned to the First, but Thancred figured it had to be later than his own, since the Tower was still in Mor Dhona from his perspective.

Days of searching had found not only equivalent Allagan plans, but also a few Garlean and even proper Bozjan examples for the sort of gunblade he wanted. The weapon would still allow him his speed and dexterity, but also was far more defensive, for himself and others.

The only trouble was going to be the cartridges, as Thancred could not imbue them himself. That was a bridge to cross later; for now, he would see if the Mean’s artisans could even create a workable gunblade.

He made his way across the Crystarium toward the markets before returning to his apartment. He wanted to stop by the city’s single barber.

Thancred still wasn’t the best at shaving daily; his schedule was still too easily thrown off, he was often in the field, and frankly it wasn’t much of a concern. His hair was getting far too long and ragged, though, enough that something had to be done.

In another moon, he would count a year on the First, though the mirror still showed only a day had passed on the Source, which was the smallest of comforts. He helped the Exarch search the Tower’s archives as the man tried various spells and counter-effects to send Thancred’s soul back to his body, but to no avail.

[miaolivijabindner]

FAR AWAY FROM / but very close to

I already question the relation between foreigners practices. In fact, there exist books everywhere. But are there a million of editorial design practices or just one practice for a million of spaces ? I tried to figure it out when I was at SPRINT22 — Independent Publishers & Artists' Books Salon in Milano. This fair came from Argentina and presented a large selection of South American publications. If you are curious about it, you can also plan to see approximately the same selection at MIGRA Art Book Fair in march 2023 in Buenos Aires.

Let's relate to what I’m trying to explain. When I was in the place called Spazio Maiocchi, I felt very enthusiastic about all the books, prints and so on… But I was much more surprised about the diversity of editorial approaches. I observed different kinds of textures, compositions, formats, colors. There were many editions from everywhere : Switzerland, Germany, England, Croatia, Italy. Each creation I could see seemed familiar to me even if I had never heard of the publishing house.

Let me talk about one I felt so close to me. Perimeter Editions comes from Melbourne, in Australia, and deals with Photography. The publishing house is focused on collaborating with photographs, artists, curators and writers. They describe themself by saying "(their) publications exhibit a criticality and sensitivity to content and form", surely because it focuses on accurate a link between a textual form and a global shape of the object. To understand what the publishing house mentioned I would like to talk about the publication of Ambient Park by Félicia Atkinson, in August 2017.

To sum up the book, it’s a twenty-five-pages book, a format close to 29.7 x 19 cm and the softcover is bound with saddle stitch - there are just 400 copies.

This editorial project, printed in Australia, relates the collaboration with Shelter Press : the internationally regarded French publishing house founded by musician Félicia Atkinson and designer Bartolomé Samson. I was so amused by the discovery that this book was in fact created not that far from my own place.

To present Shelter Press, they publish books and records. Félicia Atkinson confided that they "decided to create Shelter Press when (they) were in an artist residency in the middle of nowhere where a lot of Amish people were living." That’s why we can observe different landscapes and drawing abstractions on this editorial form. Ambient Park is a project which perfectly depict the interest for different cultural aesthetics : its form is a series of films shot during travels to New Mexico and Arizona overlaid with a collection of crude drawings made in Australia.

To describe the project, I mentioned this sentence from Shelter Press : Ambient Park manifests in "Working to navigate a path across real lands". By learning about the collaborative process between these publishers, coming from far away places, we realize that at times it can be possible to converge on the same issues in order to achieve a common project. And sometimes, our own design practice is inspired and influenced by those cultural productions. I mean, every editorial project is mostly a association of what the designer was inspired by. So, when you decide to know more about a book from an unknown place, you discover that it is finally create not that far from you. So there exist many editorial position statements, interpretations and applications of graphic tools in many spaces around the world. It means that it’s possible to discover a project close to your expectations, even if it come from far away.

Mia Olivija Bindner

[samwisethewitch]

Earth-Friendly Witchcraft

Whatever religious or spiritual tradition they identify with, most witches agree that there is something sacred about the natural world. We draw our power from the earth beneath our feet, the sky over our heads, and the air in our lungs.

And yet, many of us live in societies that are actively contributing to the destruction of the natural world. Most developed nations have a linear economy, which means resources are extracted and then sent on a one-way trip to consumers who will use them and then throw them away. This leads to overflowing landfills, air and water pollution, and quickly disappearing resources. The World Economic Forum predicts that, if our habits don’t change, there will be more plastic than fish in the ocean by 2050. And I dearly hope that by now we’re all familiar with the reality of climate change and its devastating impact on global ecosystems.

I’m not trying to scare you, but I do want to point out the hypocrisy of drawing power from the Earth in our magic while simultaneously contributing to her destruction. If we truly want to consider ourselves spiritual allies of the planet, we need to make an effort to live our lives — and practice our magic — in ways that are less harmful to her.

You don’t have to become an environmentalist or switch to a zero waste lifestyle, but we can all make little changes for a more sustainable life. There’s lots of information out there about how to live a more Earth-friendly lifestyle, so in this post I’ll be focusing on how to apply that same philosophy to your witchcraft.

Steps to a more Earth-Friendly Practice:

Limiting your consumption will automatically lower your negative impact on the planet. Follow my previous guidelines for avoiding consumerism to start shrinking your carbon footprint.

Avoid plastic as much as possible. According to the WEF, 70% of our plastic ends up in a landfill or in the world’s waterways, and according to Julia Watkins, author of Simply Living Well, only 9% of household plastics get recycled. Plastic (unlike glass and metal) cannot be recycled indefinitely — it can only be recycled a handful of times before it becomes too degraded to be repurposed any further. There really is no way to make plastic safer for the planet, so it’s best to just avoid it altogether. Look for tools made of metal, wood, or glass instead of plastics, and try to order things shipped in paper and cardboard when possible.

Create spells that won’t leave leftovers. One of the big contributing factors to our current environmental crisis is that we just produce too much waste. You can avoid this in your magical practice by crafting spells that won’t leave you throwing away a big ball of candle wax, herbs, and paper. Kitchen magic is a no-brainer for this, since kitchen spells are meant to be eaten. If you want to do a candle spell, use small candles that will burn up completely — I find larger candles are more likely to leave leftover wax. Making magical bath salts is another great option for leftover-free spells — just make sure everything you include is safe to go down the drain and won’t contribute to water pollution!

Forage for your own spell materials. One of the best ways to avoid plastic packaging and cut down on emissions from shipping is to use materials from your backyard! Learn about the plants, animals, and minerals native to your area, and take regular nature walks where you can gather what you need. Remember to only take as much as you need and to be careful never to damage the plants you harvest from. Make sure to carefully disinfect any animals bits you pick up — you can do this by burying them in salt for a full moon cycle and/or setting them in the sun/under a UV light for several days. If you find a dead animal and want to strip and clean its bones for use in ritual, this is a much more involved process and will require special research, equipment, and lots of time. And, of course, never eat anything you have foraged unless you happen to have an advanced degree in botany.

Keep a magical garden. Another great way to connect with the planet and shrink your carbon footprint is to grow your own herbs, vegetables, and fruits. You can, of course, grow food for your kitchen if you have space, but even if you live in a tiny apartment you can grow a handful of magical herbs in pots. For a list of common houseplants and their magical associations, check out this post.

Shop for spell materials at a local farmer’s market. Buying local is a great way to avoid the environmental impact of shipping produce, and it allows you to support small farms. Farmer’s markets also typically carry seasonal produce, which can help you align your magical practice with the cycles of nature. Farmer’s markets are a great way to find seasonal fruits and vegetables for kitchen magic, but you can use the produce you find there for other types of spells as well.

Trade paraffin wax candles for beeswax or soy wax. Paraffin, the material used for most cheap candles, is a by-product of crude oil, which is not only highly unsustainable but contains carcinogens (chemicals that may cause cancer). Beeswax is a sustainable alternative, and beeswax candles produce a “clean” burn, meaning it does not negatively affect air quality. Soy wax is a slightly pricier, vegan-friendly sustainable option that also produces a clean burn.

Use undyed, unbleached paper for your written spells. The bleaches and dyes used in most commercially available paper have a toxic effect on the environment. Colored paper cannot be recycled or composted because it will contaminate everything it touches. Use plain, unbleached paper for your written spells, especially if you plan to bury them in the ground or dispose of them outside.

Make sure your essential oils are ethically harvested. Essential oils are tricky — although they are marketed as natural, many of them are produced through unsustainable methods. Because essential oils are concentrated, it may take thousands of pounds of plants to produce a single pound of oil. This can have a devastating impact, especially for endangered plants like white sage or palo santo. Look for ethically-sourced, wild-harvested essential oils — these are oils that are gathered from the wild in ways that don’t hurt the local ecosystem. Mountain Rose Herbs and Eden’s Garden are two brands that are committed to sustainable essential oil production.

Instead of burying a spell in a jar, bury it in a hollowed-out fruit or vegetable. Many traditions call for spells to be buried in the ground. Items like jar spells and witch bottles are traditionally buried on the witch’s property. The problem with this is that plastic and glass bottles do not biodegrade, and will remain in the ground for years. Instead of putting these materials in the ground, bury your spells in a hollowed-out fruit or vegetable. As a bonus, you can choose this item to support your intention. For example, you might use an apple for a love spell or a spicy pepper for protection. Just make sure everything inside the spell is also biodegradable!

Keep a compost pile as an offering to your local land spirits. Compost is an easy way to reduce food waste, and it gives your garden a boost! Even if you don’t have your own garden, you can give your compost to a fiend who does or look into donating it to a community garden. When composting, it’s important to maintain a balance between carbon-rich “brown” ingredients (leaves, undyed paper, cardboard, etc.) and nitrogen-rich “greens” (fruit and veggie scraps, coffee grounds, egg shells, etc.) — you want about four times as much brown as green in your compost. Start your compost with a layer of brown — preferably twigs or straw to allow good airflow. Alternate layers of green and brown materials as you add to the pile. Every time you add to your compost, verbally express your gratitude to the land spirits. Your compost should be moist, but not soggy — you’ll know it’s ready when it’s dark and crumbly and smells like soil.

Make your own tea blends with loose herbs and a reusable tea strainer instead of buying teabags. Witches and tea go together like peanut butter and chocolate, but the individual wrappers on teabags create a lot of waste. On top of that, since many of these wrappers are dyed, they may not even be recyclable. Keep your teas earth-friendly by buying dried herbs in bulk and blending your own teas. Making your own blends is not only better for the planet, but also allows you to choose each ingredient for a specific magical intention.

Find ways to use your trash in your craft. This one is pretty self-explanatory. Instead of throwing things away, find ways to use them in your magic! Use food scraps from cooking, like carrot greens and potato peels, in spells. Turn an old shoe box into a travel altar. Add your coffee grounds to spells to ground them and manifest results in the physical world. You get the idea. Be creative!

Research different models for Earth-friendly living, like the zero waste/low waste lifestyle, sustainability, and the solarpunk movement. This will give you more ideas for a sustainable lifestyle, as well as a sustainable magical practice.

The funny thing about Earth-friendly living is that, the more time you spend taking care of the planet, the more connected you feel to it. I encourage you to try some of the ideas on this list — you’ll be amazed by how quickly you develop a deeper relationship with the Earth and all her creatures.

Resources:

Of Blood and Bones by Kate Freuler

Simply Living Well by Julia Watkins

“By 2050, there will be more plastic than fish in the world’s oceans, study says” from The Washington Post

A Sustainable Mind podcast

Practical(ly) Zero Waste podcast

[ryukatters]

Link to fanart

Content/warnings: first person POV, slight pet play, alcohol, dub con bc we’re all drunk, use of “kitty” and “good girl”, no sex in this friends sorry just lots of sexual tension, but still minors DNI

Pairing: Levi x reader x Erwin

A/N: Happy (late) Halloween lovelies. I had to repost this cuz tumblr hates me </3 scroll to the bottom for all my original tags lmao also gonna tag @asilentshout

I would. I would let Levi hit on me with those cat ears. In fact, it might even be a conversation starter. I'd come up to him, eyeing the cat headband with a small smile on my face. Exchange banter— mine being a little shy, a little playful, his being completely deadpan yet charming, in a way. 

At some point, I try plucking the cat ears off Levi's head, just to see him get a little riled up. He seems so serious, a little fun wouldn’t hurt, right? He wraps a strong, calloused hand around my wrist, and uses that same hand to tug me just a bit closer, just enough so I can practically taste the extra dirty martini he's been nursing the whole night.

"A bit early for anyone to be stripping, don't you think?"

Now at this point, I think my brain would already be short-circuiting. I guess the liquid courage coursing through my veins would have already been depleted, because I never planned to go this far. My heart's drumming in my chest, and I'm trying really hard not to stutter in front of this really, really handsome guy at some random bar I got dragged to for the night.

I'd get snapped back to reality by a third hand snaking around me, far larger than mine, and even Levi's. It's only then that I'd realize I've been ignoring the blond behind me. He looks at me with kind eyes, and my sight darts to his moving lips, and it occurs to me that he's saying something.

"Now, Levi. Be nice." To which Levi responds with an audible click of the tongue, letting go of the headband, with me following suit. The man introduces himself as Erwin, an old friend of my new acquaintance.

He'd fix the headband on top of my head, gently, and give me a smile that was so soft I think I'd turn into putty right then and there.

"See? I think those suit you much better than him. You're such a cute kitty."

Fuck. And the feeling was back again. I still wouldn't know how to respond. Good news was, I wouldn't have to. Because now I had a Cosmopolitan pressed against my lips, courtesy of the raven on my left.

“Open.”

I comply, cringing as the tangy, bittersweet liquid hits my tongue. Erwin’s warm palm is stroking the top of my head, almost condescendingly. Almost. But I find that it only urges my forward, to keep drinking until there’s nothing left. The heat rushes through my body, and I can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or the way Levi whispered “Good girl” next to me.

We’re all considerably more intoxicated after a few hours pass, evidenced by the way Levi’s hand hasn’t left my thigh, or the way Erwin’s hand hasn’t left the nape of my neck, thumb idly rubbing the sensitive skin, almost as if he was trying to memorize the topography left behind by my goosebumps from the sensation. I, on the other hand, can focus on nothing of substance, mind muddled from the predatory glint in Levi’s steely eyes— like he wants to devour me whole, the warmness of Erwin’s smile, the way his lips look so soft, or perhaps it was the growing heat between my legs.

No matter what it was, we were all on the same page. I knew we were. I could feel it in this very building; the thick, palpable, tension that Erwin, Levi, and I have managed to soak into every single corner of this bar that was suddenly way too small. Not that any of us minded of course. In fact, I think a part of me was hoping that it was enough to draw the rest of the patrons out of the building, just so I could have the two of them right then, right there.

It’s only after I few more drunken hiccups and a few slaps to Levi’s chest as he tells a crude joke that Erwin slinks his arm around my waist, bringing his lips close to my ear, enough that I can feel them brush against the cartilage as he speaks. Him and Levi share a look, an unspoken agreement being exchanged between them.

My breath is stifled in my throat as the deep timbres of the blond’s voice reverberates in my eardrum. It was electrifying, intoxicating, and so much better than anything I’ve had to drink this evening.

He compliments me, slight amusement in his voice, about what a cute kitty I was, echoing his praise from earlier on in the night. I feel my cheeks burn.

What a cute kitty you are, Erwin says, and I can see the corner of Levi’s lips turn upwards as the hand that was on my thigh slowly make its way up, I wonder if the one down there is even cuter.

Work belongs to @ryukatters. Please do not repost anywhere else or share my works on Tiktok.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: V

“I must admit, I thought I’d like to make you mine

As I went about my business through the warning signs

End up meeting in the hallway every single time

And there’s nothing we can do about it.”

— Only Angel, Harry Styles

A/N: this chapter...it was probably my fav to write, so far!!! i just adore these two clueless morons so much like i just can’t shut up about them. quite a bit happens in this part and it’s all to build that slow burn, friends to lovers shit we all know and love baYBEEEEE!!! and also The Crew make an appearance because hello we love to see it, we truly do 😌😌😌 especially the man, the myth, the legend, Mitch Rowland and honestly?? this is HIS chapter fuck vampirerry!!! but yeah i hope y’all like what’s in store for the Dynamic Duo this time around and remember that feedback is truly, madly, deeply™ appreciated! and if you enjoy it, please reblog it! spreading content keep creators motivated! without further delay, let’s dive in  😼  

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

word count: 34k 

content/warnings: witty banter, some nice fluff, jacuzzi sex, more fluff, a very testing phone call, some face f*cking, a soft shower, rough degradation, the return of The Handcuffs, an unexpected visit from The Three Stooges, more cheeky banter because that’s their brand, and the reveal of jealous asshole Harry 

///   

Y/N giddly accepts Harry’s offer to stay the weekend and the vampire can confidently say it’s one of the best he’s had in the last decade. 

He’d startled even himself when the suggestion had risen abruptly from his mouth, leaving him blinking blankly as a result. He rarely allows anyone to spend more than a day in his condo— his friends being the only exception— because he’s grown to like the quiet solitude that comes with living on his own. He very solemnly has people over whom he hasn’t known for at least a few years, and that rule is reinforced on stricter grounds when it comes to humans. Especially when the only true connection they could possibly carry to him is through the area between their legs. 

But Harry has become strangely fond of Y/N in the last four weeks— fond enough to freely refer to her as a friend and endeared enough to bypass the fact that she’s mortal. She just looks so unbelievably cute padding around his apartment barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of crumpled, sunflower-doodled panties and his Nike olive green jumper, her hair a mangled mess with traces of his cologne smeared across the bruised skin of her neck. Admittedly, it’s a sight he wants to see more often, which is a stab at his ego because he’s never been one to dwell on sentimentality— not for a while. It’s a bit cliche and gross, in his opinion, but when it comes to this one particular girl...well, maybe it’s not too bad. Indulging some soft pastimes can't do much damage, especially when it aids his plan to keep her interested until he himself grows bored. 

It can only do good, which is probably what had spurred him into asking her to extend her stay. For once, he found himself not craving his usual silent seclusion. Not when that self-imposed isolation could be filled with her loud laughter, warm lips, and sweet moans instead. 

And much to his satisfaction, Harry gets just that. 

For the next two days, the creature gets all of his needs and wants attended to, both recreational and intimate. Y/N seems to enjoy it thoroughly, as well, walking— or rather waddling, really, thanks to some of their raunchier activities— around his flat happily, constantly clad in a pair of his boxers and one of his graphic tees. He gets off on it— it’s hard not to, especially with the way she fits his clothes so effortlessly, almost as if she was made to fill them. Or the way the scent of his shampoo is combed through every strand of her hair, his smell slathered all over her as if she’s unconsciously trying to mark herself as his. Or the way new love bites cover the ones his blood had nearly faded, which she dotes shamelessly by pushing all her hair behind her shoulders so Harry can get a perfect view of every welt he’s left behind on her throat. Or the way she unapologetically giggles at all his jokes and crude humor, and how she paddles his witty banter right back at him with that clever gleam in her irises. 

He gets off on the way Y/N cuddles into him on the couch while they’re watching some mindless Food Network series, her body heat expelling the stiff coldness from his limbs. The way she kisses tenderly along the underside of his jaw, forefinger tracing over his Adam’s Apple teasingly, a smile spreading against his skin when she feels it bob heavily. The way she’ll sneak her hand between his thighs and palm him over his briefs, taking the shell of his ear between her teeth and hissing lowly when his cock twitches against her fingers, her voice soft as silk but heavy with dirty intentions. “Want to make you feel good again, H. Can I?” 

The human girl is a blessing, while simultaneously being a walking, talking sin, and the monster’s never been more willing to damn himself to Hell. And he would gladly do it, if he wasn’t already living it in the form of blood-driven eternity.

It’s an eventful weekend, that’s for sure, and despite the fact that they share an abundance of memorable moments, there are a few that Harry deems especially unforgettable. 

The jacuzzi sex sits at the top of that list. 

Y/N had practically squealed when she’d laid eyes on the glorified tub in his bathroom, pacing over to it excitedly and leaning down to run her fingers over the control panel along the rim. Her voice had come out whispered, full of child-like wonder. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Harry had walked over to stand beside her, his icy digits pressing on top of her warm own, finagling the buttons into his preferred settings. Hot water begins to shoot out of all the polished jets one by one, slowly filling the pool and covering the dark marble wrap-around ledge used as seating. The vampire quickly fetches the bag of lavender Epsom salts he keeps close by, scooping a couple handfuls into the frothing hot tub, along with pouring in a decent amount of jasmine bubble bath. 

His lips jolt when he catches Y/N eyeing the jacuzzi in awe, her hands clasped to her chest in delight as she teeters back and forth ever so slightly on her heels. The water shuts off once it reaches the appropriate level, leaving behind a thick, luxurious sheet of suds that smells of sugary florals and clean linen. The second the jets retract, Harry doesn’t even have time to make a comment before Y/N begins stripping down hurriedly, obviously restless to take on this new experience. 

Harry spontaneously jerks to the side out of habit, averting his sight to allow her some privacy. His tone is soft and amused. “Clean towels are in the hamper along the other side of the tub.” He signals blindly towards where he knows the basket is situated. “Call me back in when you need help with the shower knobs. And don’t—”

The immortal spots something streak across his peripheral vision, cocking his head a bit just in time to see her flower-print panties toss onto the tiled floor. He rolls his eyes playfully, scoffing to himself at the innocence of the article. It matches her persona perfectly. 

He hears a splash crack through the air behind him, meaning that Y/N has submerged herself in the water and that it is now safe for him to turn around without threatening her decency. However, he doesn’t think she’d mind if he did and he finds himself wondering why he’d looked away in the first place. The answer comes to him simply: it was a residual mannerism from the era he was raised in. His default Victorian etiquette can be so fucking annoying sometimes. 

He spins around on his socked heels, lean arms folding casually across his broad chest, naked tattoos glinting under the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. He slinks his head to the side, entertained at the view he finds. Y/N is sitting amidst the blanket of pink bubbles, covered up to her shoulders as she cups soap into her palms, blowing at it and watching the suds float across the air before popping. The adorable smile that breaks across her face makes Harry’s stomach flutter. 

The vampire steps forward to catch her attention, leaning a hip against the edge of the tub and pursing his lips to hide an adoring grin. The corners of his mouth betray him as soon as Y/N looks up at him, hair slicked back with water and bubbles, matted to the sides of her neck and across her jaw as she beams up at him. 

“Your place is literally an adult playground.” The human states wistfully, her arms floating across the surface of the bath as she drifts closer to him, creating more suds. “You’re gonna have to get me kicked out tomorrow ‘cause I’m not leaving on my own.” 

Harry snorts, ducking down and wiping some soap off the tips of her eyelashes. “I don’t think security detail was part of the lease, so I might have to do it myself.”

“I can easily take you.” Y/N remarks jokingly, waving a hand dismissively. “Better make some space, I’m moving in next week.” 

“I’d say I would start clearing out my storage room for you,” Harry leans forward, ghosting his lips over hers and thumbing over the curve of her chin, batting his lashes sultrily, “but I think we both know you’d end up in my bed either way. Best leave it as is.” 

“Yeah,” Y/N momentarily glimpses down at his mouth, eyes glitzing with the slightest bit of hunger, “I think it's best if we just split the bed.” 

“Oh, we’ll definitely split the bed— split it right down the middle.” Harry grips her jaw firmly and locks her into a wet, sloppy kiss for a few elongated heartbeats, tugging at her bottom lip and biting it jestingly before pulling back. 

Y/N chases after him, craving more of his taste, but the boy draws back fully and pats at her cheek with smug finality. Her begrudging pout makes him release a boyish giggle. “Anyways, as I was saying before, my last rule: Don’t pee in the tub. Cleaning it is a bitch and that’s the last thing I want to deal with.” 

The mortal laughs airily, nodding her head in confirmation that she understands. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“Thank you.” Her friend huffs, shoulders slumping dramatically in relief. Harry takes on a theatrical ominous edge, quirking his brows warningly. “Didn’t end well for the last person who did.” 

“Is that so?” Y/N inquires daringly, lowering herself deeper into the water until it covers her chin. “What happened? Did you have to take on the role of executioner again?”

Harry thinks back to that instance, shaking his head in amusement at the memory. It had been Niall— anything that has to do with testing his patience almost always leads to Niall— and to make a long story short, the Irish bloke had ended up having to regrow an ear. But he can’t necessarily confess that supernatural event to Y/N, no matter how funny it is, so he just shrugs offhandedly and gives her a dark look full of faux mystery, voice adopting the same affect. “I’ve already said too much.” 

The young woman casts her eyes up to the ceiling humorously. “Moron.” 

“Watch it, love.” Harry tuts, narrowing his eyes at her pointedly in an attempt to suppress the smirk that is about to stem from his next comment. “I’m not the one with the degradation kink here.” 

Y/N scrunches her face at him mockingly, trying to hide the way his quip had made her heart hiccup. She mimics his accent, sticking up her middle finger from beneath a mountain of rosy bubbles. “Piss off.” 

“Gladly.” Harry bites back cheekily in an American accent. He leans down, retrieving his Nike sweater and her underwear from the rumpled pile on the ground, his intentions set on taking them across the hall to the laundry room with the rest of her clothes. That way, her stuff will be nice and clean for when she needs it again Sunday night. “Just call if you need me, yeah?” 

Harry gets about three feet towards the door before Y/N’s soft voice halts him, piping up as gentle and timid as usual. “Wait…”

The vampire glances over his shoulder, eyebrows poised in question as he absentmindedly flips his jumper inside-out in anticipation for the wash. 

Y/N swims across the extent of the jacuzzi until she’s right in front of where he’d stopped, resting her forearms along the rim and plopping her chin atop her folded hands. She gazes up at Harry through her lashes and he can see the manner in which she shifts her footing beneath the small waves, almost as preparing to stand up from the water. “Don’t go.” 

Harry’s eyes go half-lidded in a flat expression as he hangs his sweatshirt over the inside of his elbow. “Didn’t you literally just tell me to piss off five seconds ago?”

“I changed my mind.” 

“Well, that’s just too bad. You already hurt my feelings. No take-backs.” 

“Idiot.”

“Try again.” 

“What’s that one insult British people say? Oh, yeah! Knobhead.” 

“You’re really not helping your case here.” 

Y/N sighs in exasperation, using her palms to boost herself up until she’s standing fully inside the hot tub. Water cascades down her shoulders and out of her sopping hair, following the curves of her bare torso and trickling across her jaw. She teeters forward until her face is only a few inches away from Harry’s, lulling her head to the side expectantly with a certain slyness swirling around her pupils. She chews on her lower lip as she gives him a suggestive once-over. “How about now? Does this help my case?”

Harry keeps his eyes pinned to her own, refusing to submit to temptation. He knows exactly what she’s trying to do, and he doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of allowing it to work. Not yet, at least. He wants her to beg for it. 

The creature twists towards her entirely, irises bright with the excitement of a new challenge. Even with the slight elevation the jacuzzi provides, Harry still towers over Y/N at least a good four inches. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough that she has to tilt her chin up to maintain direct eye contact. The tip of his cold nose brushes over hers, eyebrows shrugging tauntingly. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that, darling.”

Y/N reaches forward without breaking their stares, taking the clothes from Harry’s grasp and haphazardly chucking them onto the towel hamper. Now with his arms free, the immortal props his hands onto his hips, his biceps and shoulders flexing with the motions. He’s peacocking to try and intimate her, and in any other circumstance, it would probably work, but Y/N knows she has the upper-hand at the moment; she’s naked and wet and docile, and with the way Harry’s handsome features are hardening in determination, she can tell she’s whittling him down. All it would take is one well-coordinated touch here, a lingering stroke there, and maybe a gentle caress of her lips down the valley of his pectorals…

Y/N goes for something better. She reaches upwards to intertwine her fingers around the nape of Harry’s neck, tugging him closer until their chests meld together, the heat from the water radiating off her waxy skin and sinking into his freezing own. His breathing catches as soon as he feels her pert nipples press into his chest and even though he’s keeping his sight trained on her face, he can just barely see the curves of her breasts less than a foot below. Their close proximity is making them swell upwards, urging him to give in and have his way with her however he wants. And fuck, does he want to. But he’s not going to let her bait him that easily— who would he be if he allowed this human girl to toy with him in such a fashion? Harry never lets anyone puppet him— not anymore, not ever again— and especially not when it comes to sex, which is one of his most skilled domains. He certainly isn’t going to let her win. 

Harry grabs Y/N’s wrists from where they are perched around his neck, giving her a hard look that lets her know who’s in charge of the situation. He brings her hands up before her face, flipping them over so she gets a proper view of the faint bruising that lines her flesh, leftover from the previous evening’s restraints. When he speaks, it’s low and throaty with a condescending undercurrent. “Remember what happened last time you acted like a brat?”

Images flash by the forefront of Y/N’s mind like a film on fast-forward, recalling the night to which Harry is referring. The young man had tied her to her headboard and fingered her until she was left a teary mess, refusing to let her orgasm each time she got close. Then, he had tossed the girl onto her tummy and rammed into her from behind until her aged bedframe had nearly splintered. If she focuses intently enough, she can still feel the satisfying ache he had left behind, which had haunted her for days afterwards. 

The mortal swallows heavily, nodding her head a tad. 

Harry raises an eyebrow with an awaiting air. “Remember what I said about using your words?”

Y/N bobs her head again quickly. After a moment, she realizes her repeated mistake, clearing her throat softly in order to fix it. “Yes.”

“Good.” The vampire drops her hands, coasting his palms up her neck to cup either sides of her jaw, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones almost tenderly. “Now let me ask you again. Do you remember what happened last time you acted like a little brat?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Do you want a repeat of that?”

“No, I—” Y/N pauses in hindsight, retracting her previous statement. “Well, actually…”

Harry’s ruby lips string into a coy smirk at her response, well acquainted with where her thoughts are leading. He presses their foreheads together, the damp stickiness of her warm flesh sending a shiver toppling down his spine. “Let me guess. You want a repeat of the part where I shoved your face into a pillow and fucked you until you squirted all over me?” 

He can feel blood surge into her cheeks beneath his fingertips as a result of his vulgar words. “Yes, please.”

Harry gnaws along the inside of his cheek as he recalls that event. He can practically feel her gushing around his cock all over again, her walls tightening around him as her whole body trembled in his grasp, her shattered whimpers stinging his ears as he continued to slam into her until she’d completely drenched both of their thighs. His eyelids fall shut in dreamy recollection and an image skims by of his initial rings marked across her ass; it nearly sends his knees out from under him. “Fuck, that was so hot, wasn’t it?”

“So fucking hot.” Y/N sighs shakily, lashes fluttering as his warm breath washes across her tingling mouth. “Harry, I just...I just want to ride you so fucking bad right now.”

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” Harry touches over her quivering bottom lip, somehow managing to feel her pulse. It’s battering so hard, he could probably sense it through any spot on her body, at this point. “You want me to sit in there with you just so you can bounce on my cock, baby?” 

“Please…” Y/N sounds as if she’s on the verge of crying, all of her desperate need translating into her wrecked voice. Her next phrase is something she doesn’t think she’s ever spoken before, but the intensity of the moment just feels so right to test it out, and Harry feels like the right person to test it with. After another heavy gulp and a lick at her dry lips, she chimes up once again, bashful and pliant. “Please, Daddy?”

The sound of a sharp inhale echoes off the marble and porcelain walls of the bathroom, stemming from Harry’s garbled throat. It feels like the temperature in the atmosphere has gone up twenty degrees, invisible flames lapping across the muscles of his taut back and across the tendons of his tight shoulders. His entire body seems to go into shock, lungs stuttering and stomach hollowing out. His lashes snap shut without a heartbeat to spare, webs of black veins materializing over the whites of his eyes as a reaction to Y/N’s brazen comment. 

He has been indulging fantasies of her calling him that specific name for weeks now, but had never asked out of respect for her boundaries. He figured that if she had an affinity for it, it would eventually make its way out of her mouth during one of their sessions, and he had been willing to be patient enough to wait. It had paid off, it seems. 

Harry releases his grip on the girl’s face, reaching down to messily shove his black briefs down his clammy thighs, eyes flickering open now that he has forced some control into his demeanor. He sets his intent on her expression, the jade of his irises bleeding lust as he catches her gawking at him. Y/N gazes down at where he’s occupied, her lips parting slightly with starved awe as his underwear falls away to pool at his feet, revealing the part of him she has grown so addicted to in the last month. It looks so pretty, with a neatly trimmed pubic area, thick girth, and pleasurable length. She never knew cocks could be appealing, considering she always found their appearance so odd and irrelevant. That is, until Harry. It appears she thought a lot of sexual things irrelevant until Harry. 

He kicks away his clothes, nudging at her boiling cheeks with his nose to garner attention, his tone low and inexplicably strained. “Say it again.”

Y/N’s fingers curl into loose fists against his heaving chest as she gathers her bearings, shuddering with a difficult exhale. She says it a bit louder this time, but still inherently weak, almost as if she’s scared their shadows might overhear. “Please, Daddy?”

Harry’s brows furrow with puncurting desire, a broken groan stirring deep in his lungs. “God, that sounds so good coming from your mouth. Been wanting to hear you say it for ages now.” 

“Really?”

He nods fervently, nose bumping hers with every movement and he takes this chance to peek down at her naked figure, swallowing thickly at how incredible her breasts look flushed to his pecs. “Think about it constantly. Always wondered what it would take to get it out of you.” 

“I wish you’d just told me.” The human mumbles, tracing his cupid’s bow with the crest of her own. “I’ve been wanting to say it for a while now.” 

Harry chuckles lightly, humming in amusement as he snakes a strong arm around the dip of her spine, drawing her closer as much as possible. He just wants to feel every inch of her wet, velvety skin. “Well, now you can say it all you want. Over and over and over, while I make your knees shake and your back arch.” 

Y/N sputters out a bundle of feathery giggles, looping her arms around his neck and carding her fingers into his shiny curls, pulling his lips down to meet hers in a restless kiss full of quiet whines and snippets of laughter. She talks into his mouth, starting to pant as the pace becomes more passionate, full of eager tongues and nipping teeth. “Now will you please get in and let me fuck you?” 

Harry mounts one knee onto the edge of the hot tub, his free hand jutting down against the marble for reinforcement as the other keeps her trapped against his body. “Yeah...Yeah, I think I will.” 

He crawls into the heated water, submerging up to his waist due to his height. Once he’s balanced himself within the pool, the palm pressed to the brim slips away, replacing the cold stone with the simmering skin of Y/N’s jaw once again. He tangles his fingers into her hair as he nurses her face to the side, deepening their prolonged kiss, and the whimper she pours into his mouth makes every cell in his body throb with longing. Y/N’s hands ride down his lean stomach and over his pelvic bones, fingers twitching the closer she gets to his cock. She stops right before she reaches his base, wracked with the slightest bit of shy hesitation. 

“Go ahead, doll.” Harry murmurs softly, hips bucking forward once against the pads of her digits. “I want you to touch me.”

Y/N’s palm disappears below the mounds of bubbles, cupping over his cock and giving it a rough grope. Harry gasps brokenly against her lips at the sensation, the corners of his mouth ticking upwards into a blissful simper when her breathing throttles just a smidge. Y/N gradually begins to work him below the gentle waves of the water, eyes rolling back when she feels him harden in her hold. She’ll never get used to how erotic it is having Harry shatter under her influence.

“I think it's funny,” she begins, voice delicate and humorous, contradicting the insistent actions she’s partaking below, “how you were threatening me with orgasm denial two minutes ago and now you’re being all nice.” 

The vampire thrusts slightly against her strokes, tiny noises escaping his taut throat as a familiar boiling begins to simmer in his veins. His tone is detached and pinched with the effort of maintaining composure. “S’hardly a fair point, considering you caught me off guard with that pet name.”

“Is that so?” The girl inquires playfully, giving the tip of his cock a hard squeeze and scoffing against his mouth when he releases a tight grunt. 

“Mm. You always…” Harry draws back from her intoxicating mouth, looking down at her over the crests of his tinted cheekbones to admire the faint imprint of his teeth along her swollen lips. His mind feels like it’s been pumped with syrup, thoughts swishing around lazily, his emotions still somewhat exposed from the mishap that had occurred during their breakfast serenade. It had been over two hours ago, but the wound was still fresh in his subconscious, causing small pinpricks of anxiety to stain his otherwise carefree personality. He feels as if his chest had been cut open with a scalpel, his insides had been rearranged out of order, and the gash had been resewn brutishly; he feels disarrayed and defiled. And because of some simple human girl who’s as fragile and insipidly transparent as glass. 

The immortal’s voice comes out as a whisper, carrying the weight of his confused, raw state. “You always catch me off guard.” 

Y/N blinks up at him innocently, gnawing on her bottom lip at his sweet compliment, her heart somersaulting within her ribcage. “You catch me off guard, too. Always keep me on my toes, which is something I was never really used to.” 

“Do you...” Harry forces down the lump in his throat, allowing himself to be vulnerable for the sake of seeking an answer. Though their problems are vastly different— she’s referring to her small-town, conservative mentality, whereas he’s shouldering two hundred years worth of emotional trauma— he’s more than happy to absorb any advice she could possibly offer. He needs to know how to shut this off; he hates feeling so unsure of himself. It’s like he’s wading through a forest blindfolded, disoriented and uncalibrated with no sense of direction or purpose. He hasn’t felt this helpless since… “Do you hate it?”

The mortal’s eyes fall shut, lashes dusting the apples of her cheeks in a way that Harry deems almost ethereal. She shakes her head lightly in his grasp, a hazy smile adorning her face. “Do I hate that you take me out of my comfort zone? I don’t think I do, actually. I like it. I like that every moment we spend together is something new. I was so used to following the status quo and retracing other’s steps, I never noticed how boring it all was. But you’re never boring. You make everything fun and adventurous, and it’s just so...” 

Y/N laughs a tad, trying to come up with a word she can’t quite place, too distracted in how her friend’s thumbs are caressing her jaw. The hand she has below the water has stopped its motions all together, her focus placed solely on the young man’s beautiful features. The copper specks in his eyes glitter in the white light of the bathroom, looking like polished amber gems. “Uhm...It’s...It’s so—”

“Scary...but exhilarating.” Harry finishes her sentence, a quivering sigh coaxing out of his tight chest. He feels like he’s going to vomit. 

Y/N bobs her head in agreement, hands drifting to wrap around his dainty wrists, giving them a soft squeeze as if to reassure herself that he’s real. “Yeah, that’s it. It’s...exciting, kind of.” 

The creature swallows heavily and releases her face, peeling his eyes away from Y/N’s for fear of letting her see him so defenseless, brows creasing in burning unsettlement. Instead, he lends his attention to outlining the speckling of white strewn into the dark marble of the bathroom wall, using that distraction to calm the raging in his belly. Out of the edge of his vision, he can see Y/N’s face fall, the grip she has on his wrists loosening. A spike of pain shoots through his unbeating heart— similar to what he had endured earlier— at the sadness behind her gesture, but he stifles it with stubborn spite. This isn’t him. It hasn’t been for decades now, and he’d grown to like it as so. In his experience, attachment leads to suffering, and suffering leads to misery. And with all of the centuries he has ahead of him, misery is the last companion he needs. 

Harry clears his throat emptily, slashing through the tension that had suspended in the air between them. He glimpses down at her, undoing the knot between his eyebrows and putting as much playful ease into his irises as he can muster, urging the corners of his lips into his signature smirk. “I guess we just excite each other, then. Though that’s become pretty obvious by now, I think.” 

Y/N purses her mouth to hide the immature grin his innuendo is attempting to weed out, all awkwardness dissipating from her aura. “I guess we do.” 

The monster ducks down to flirt his lips over the human’s, arms tying around her lower back and hiking her upwards. Y/N yelps in surprise, instinctively clamping her legs around his waist and giggling as he lugs her from side to side jokingly, pretending he’s about to drop her into the pool. “Why don’t we go back to exciting one another, hm?” 

Y/N’s nose rubs across the bridge of Harry’s and she gasps lightly when she feels the head of his cock prod at her entrance, dipping in a bit to tease her, spreading her open just enough to wheedle a soft hiss. She shivers in his arms despite the heat wafting up from the warm water, a very different type of warmth pouring into the area between her legs. The girl clings to the sides of the English boy’s neck, spinning a damp curl around her forefinger— he’d gotten his hair wet when he’d splashed into the jacuzzi, and the manner in which his ringlets are gluing across his flexing neck and sharp jaw is doing her in. 

She gives a small nod, eyes flickering down to his tempting lips and back up at his devious gaze. “Yeah, alright.” 

In Harry’s expert opinion, it’s safe to say they definitely excite each other. It’s pretty evident in the way their bodies mold perfectly, satisfying their own desires while simultaneously fulfilling the other’s. The vampire ends up sitting on top of the ledge that circles the inside wall of the pool, his head hanging over the edge with his mouth parted in an open grin, filthy moans and needy whines pouring from his tongue freely as Y/N rocks onto his slick cock. The girl balances herself on her knees, backside crashing down against his thighs in harsh slams full of reckless urgency— she needs this more than she’d ever care to admit. Her nails dig into Harry’s strong shoulders for stability, head thrown back in sheer bliss as her chest bounces with every thrust, the trench of her tummy rippling with contented heat. He just makes her feel so fucking full.

“God, y-you’re so big.” Y/N mewls, swinging her hips in small circles that draw an array of fractured sounds of pleasure from Harry’s taut throat. “You stretch me out so fucking good, Har.” 

Harry’s hands tighten into fists against the glossy plastic of the jacuzzi, arms slung casually over the sides of the tub in a relaxed posture. He doesn’t want to bother with taking control at this particular moment; he’s too busy reveling in the ecstasy Y/N is pounding into his system. He jolts with every rough dip of her hips, the corners of his raw lips winking his dimples awake as he looks up at her through barely-cracked eyes, the weight of his mounting orgasm heavy on his lashes. “Love that cock, don’t you? Can tell by the way you always kiss it right before you take it down your throat.” 

Y/N grapples onto her friend's neck blindly, one palm grasping the center of his jugular as the other cradles his defined jaw, her thumb smearing across his lips as a result of her choppy movements. Harry cranes his head forward a bit to get a better view, pressing a gentle kiss to the pad of her finger as an appreciative thrum rumbles against the hand she has covering his Adam’s Apple. “You look so beautiful when you fuck me all desperate like that.”

Y/N whimpers as she swivels against his lap eagerly, driving herself towards a climax that she knows will leave her utterly ruined. Harry glances down to where their centers meet below the water, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he peers through the violently sloshing waves and frothy suds, watching Y/N glide over him easily now that she’d gotten used to his size. He leans forward, slowly planting a trail of suckling kisses up the center of his friend’s tummy and over the valley of her chest, looking upwards through his long lashes and smiling lewdly into her flesh every time her walls squeeze at the action. She’s so snug around him, he’s convinced no one could ever fit him this well. 

His words come out as a raspy growl. “You’re such a tight little thing. Never get tired of that perfect cunt. S’like you were made to take me this deep.” 

Y/N collapses forward, her grip shooting up to trade his face with his drenched curls. She sponges her mouth messily over his, gasping onto his tongue as the motions of the water batter against her sensitive clit. Her brows cinch with hunger, tone pleading. “Touch me. Please? Want— Want your hands on me while I ride you.” 

Harry shakes his head tauntingly, licking across her top lip and teething at the crescent above it. “I don’t think so, angel. I like seeing you do all the work, for once. You look so good using me to get yourself off.” 

The girl fists at his hair almost cruelly, her sanity gradually slipping. “But I...I like it when you use me, too.” 

“Trust me, I’m well aware.” The vampire muses arrogantly, spreading his meaty thighs wider so that her strokes have a more profound impact. His position works as intended, seen in how Y/N slows for a second when she sinks down to the hilt, a breathy, “Fuck, that’s so deep.” scraping past the cracks of her gritted teeth. 

Harry bucks upward symbolically, signaling for her to regain her rhythm; one look at his dominantly smug expression has her abiding instantly. He lays his head against his bare shoulder, studying every clench of her belly and every heave of her breasts, etching this picture into his extensive list of memories. His voice flows out as thick and silky as molasses. “I just can’t get enough of watching you make yourself cum around my cock.” 

“I j-just want you to fuck me.” Y/N is nearly sobbing, her fingertips carving into his scalp as she kisses over his colored cheeks and tinged nose, trying to swindle him into giving her what she wants. “I’ll do anything you want. Promise.” 

“Always so willing, aren’t you?” Harry chuckles darkly, groaning lightly when she suddenly tenses around his length. He can feel his nails breaking the skin of his palms as his fists contract. “You want me to make you scream, is that it? Want Daddy to pound you until you can’t stand anymore?”  

Hearing him refer to himself that way sends electricity coursing down her spine. “Want it so bad.” 

The creature reaches up with his index finger and brushes a sopping strand of hair out of Y/N’s face, tucking it behind her ear and tracing down her cheekbone admiringly. After a few seconds of thought, he appraises her with a decision, licking across his top teeth and pressing his tongue along the inside of his cheek teasingly. “Let’s make a deal, then. How about you get yourself right on the edge for me, and then I’ll flip you around and finish you off. Sound fair?” 

Y/N doesn’t need to be told twice. She regains her previous stride with more fervor and speed, hellbent on pushing herself to the seam of climax so she can let Harry take the reins. The young man watches her with sinful intent tainting the emerald of his irises, the golden smudges around his pupils glinting blood red for a single heartbeat. He decides he’ll lend his expertise just once, extending his arm and fiddling with the settings on the control panel of the hot tub, preparing a surprise he knows his guest will thoroughly enjoy. 

When the jets suddenly rumble to life, Y/N’s jumps in shock, the loud sound startling her clouded brain. But then two concentrated streams of water hit her right between her legs and she nearly faints as newfound bliss erupts through every fiber of her being. The insistent spray toys with her clit in a fashion that is indescribable, revving her closer to release as the overwhelming sensation pairs with the rapture Harry’s cock is hammering into her. She won’t last long, and he knows it. 

The monster eyes her reaction attentively, his forefinger lulling upwards across the water-proof screen of the controls, raising the intensity of the jets. The fragmented moan that betrays the human goes right to his core. He then slides his finger back down, reducing the powerful force to softer bursts. Y/N whines in protest against his mouth, begging him to set it higher like before. And Harry does, giving her exactly what she craves with one easy swoop. Y/N’s forehead falls against his jaw, her shallow breaths puffing down his collarbones and heating his icy skin. 

“Shit, that’s so—so— fuck!” 

Harry continues to play with the settings, teasing her with waves of strong geysers and gentle trickles. Soon enough, he’s perched behind her, her back sticky against his wet chest as she holds herself up on her knees against the marble seat, hands clamped around the metal railing that runs the circumference of the pool. The pole helps her brace his unforgiving pace, her entire body jerking forward with every ram of his hips as small hiccups of pleasure float across the fogged air of the bathroom. Harry takes the shell of her ear between his teeth, biting down with no remorse as Y/N pushes back to meet his adamant thrusts, his coral-lacquered digits sifting between her own around the polished metal. She gets a bleary glimpse of the cross tattoo inked onto his hand as she can’t help but snort softly at the irony. 

“Is something funny, love?” Harry’s deep baritone causes chills to wring down her arms. 

“Your cross tattoo,” Y/N chokes out, a soft grunt interrupting her sentence as the head of the boy’s prick nudges the pit of her abdomen, “it’s just so ironic.” 

It is ironic. Harry had gotten it for that sole purpose— to mock the fact that he was deceased. He didn’t get to have a tombstone, so this is the next best thing: a symbolic one, of sorts, sketched into his skin for the rest of his undead life. A bit morbid, but he quite fancies dark humor, given what he is. 

However, he knows Y/N finds it ironic for much different, much unholier reasons. 

“You wanna know what’s really ironic?” Harry quips, bottoming out harshly and cooing into the back of her neck when the mortal’s shoulders give a spasm in response. His tone is a mocking whisper. “That such an innocent-looking thing like you loves the idea of being my shameless little whore.” 

Y/N’s cheeks boil at his explicit comment, a delicate whimper striking her vocal chords. One of Harry’s hands leaves its post on top of hers, tangling into her wet locks and giving her hair a ruthless yank. He guides her head into the nook between his shoulder and neck, spitting his next words out against the thundering pulse in her temple.

“You’re nothing but Daddy’s little filthy fucking slut. Isn’t that right, baby?” 

Y/N nods frantically in his authoritative grasp, struggling to swallow due to the combination of his unyielding tempo and erotic statements.  

Harry twists her hair around his knuckles, drawing a broken mewl from her raw lips as his teeth skim along the top of her cheekbone. “Words. Now.”

“Yes, Daddy.” 

“Say it.”

“I’m...I’m your filthy little slut.” 

Harry scoffs in entertained disbelief at how willing she is to submit to him, pecking a kiss to the corner of her eye and tasting a salty tear across his tongue. He redirects her head forward, grinning into the side of her scalp. “You should see the way you smile when you say it.” 

Y/N can’t help it. It just feels so right with him— she feels oddly safe, knowing that what they share is something neither of them will ever give to anyone else. Their arrangement is one of a kind; they fit each other so flawlessly, nobody could ever possibly come close. And she doesn’t want anyone to try— doesn’t want anyone attempting to replace him. Harry just fills the gap perfectly, and she wouldn’t dream of letting another man do what he does to her. Not when she has Harry near, willing to mumble as many graphic promises into her ear as she wants, all while he fucks a sweltering throb into the area between her thighs.

The human girl finds herself wishing this could last an eternity. Little does she know that if it wasn’t for her mortal ignorance and Harry’s better judgement, it very well could. 

///

Later in the day, Harry vaguely recalls how the week prior he had made a passing joke to Y/N about how her sexual drive matches that of a rabbit. What happens in the evening makes him stand by that comment. 

They order in Chinese for dinner, and Y/N insists on eating out on the balcony, wanting to get a perfect view of the sun setting over the city skyline. She has never experienced the phenomenon from such a pristine view. 

Harry allows it, but only after parenting her into putting on a jacket to avoid catching a cold, sending her back into the condo in search of one as he sets out their meal atop the multicolored glass table outside. Humans are so sensitive, and the last thing he needs is his booty call nearly dying from a case of the sniffles.

She comes back out clad in his patchwork cardigan, wrapping it around her body snugly as she sits with her legs crossed on the patio chair, fitting her box of takeout into the hole created by her thighs. The fluffy knitwork had been the first coat she had found hanging in his humongous closet, and she’d thrown it on without a second thought, too caught up in the excitement of getting to see such a picturesque sight in real life. It’s warm and smells of Harry’s vanilla tobacco cologne, along with hints of other scents, like his chamomile and mandarin shampoo and spiced deodorant. She’d been more than happy to inhabit it.

Harry isn’t sure why, but seeing her sitting across from him on his balcony in a pair of his maroon plaid Calvin Klein boxers, his Keith Harrington Safe Sex t-shirt, and blanketed within his oversized rainbow cardigan, all while her hair falls across her face and tickles her jaw… It makes a fond smile buckle his cheeks, though he manages to tame it quickly. 

They chat casually as they eat, sharing silly stories and experiences as they pick at their stir-fry, taking periodic sips of the cranberry juice Harry keeps stocked in his fridge. He doesn’t know the science behind it— though he highly doubts there’s any valid scientific explanation behind the magic that runs through his supernatural veins— but he’s come to find that cranberries help curb his cravings. It’s why he always has a liter on hand. 

Y/N informs Harry on how her work week had gone, and about how one of her friends back home had gotten engaged recently. She says it all seems so surreal and that she doubts the girl will actually go through with it, which makes the monster burst into laughter, much to her confusion. Harry thinks that this is probably the first time he’s ever seen Y/N be so blatantly pessimistic; it’s strangely comical. Just hearing her opinion on the situation is enough to send anyone into a cackle fit, especially when she says it with such a straight face. “Yeah, I just don’t think she’ll do it. She says she loves him, but she always used to complain about his foot fetish, and I’m pretty sure she’d go insane if she had to put up with that for the rest of her life.” 

Harry wards off another bundle of giggles, pursing his twitching lips and bobbing his head once in understanding, using his chopsticks to pop a piece of fried duck into his mouth. “That’s a valid reason to abandon anyone at the altar, if I’ve ever seen one.” 

“I know, right? She told me he likes sucking whipped cream off her toes and, like, not to kinkshame, because I obviously have my own weird shit going on—”

“Yeah, I can attest to that.” Harry shrugs his eyebrows suggestively, picking a small chunk of broccoli off his utensil and smirking as he chews slowly. “Decently weird, actually.”

Y/N gifts him a deadpan expression, shoving a piece of veggie dumpling into her mouth and choosing to ignore his dig. “Anyways, I feel like that one is just on a whole other level. Like...what the fuck?”

Harry shares an anecdote about his own friends, as well, feeling that if he doesn’t open up at least a smidge, she'll start becoming suspicious. He recounts the time when he and Mitch had snuck into a Fleetwood Mac concert and met Stevie Nicks, though he’s careful enough not to tell her the date the event had occurred. He just lets her deduce it was one of their more recent tours, when in reality, it had been back in the eighties. The other detail Harry leaves off is the fact that he had tried to seduce Stevie, emphasis being on “tried.” It hadn’t stuck, unfortunately, and what had made the experience even more mortifying is that his idol had taken an interest in Mitch instead. Harry’s ego has yet to recover from that blow; first, because Mitch had the sheer gall to reject the celebrity on the grounds that he wasn’t looking to get involved in any public scandals, and secondly because his best friend refuses to ever let him live it down. “Hey, remember when we met Stevie Nicks and she wanted to fuck me instead of you? Good times, man.”

When the sun finally begins to dip over the horizon, their conversation dies off, replaced by the serene sounds of distant traffic and a light wind picking up as the temperature begins to drop for the night. Y/N stares at the sky in childish wonder as the bright blue starts to darken, streaking with mellow oranges, pastel purples, and buttery yellows, the colors painting across the clouds and giving the bustling city a timeless quality that can only be truly appreciated firsthand. A small, dreamy smile spreads across Y/N’s lips as the gorgeous canvas reflects off the glossy surface of her irises, her legs drawn up to her chest with her arms hugging her knees. She gazes wistfully over the place she has now grown to call home, taking in all it has to offer for the first time in two months, feeling oddly at ease despite the fact that she usually feels lonely wandering its streets. 

The mixture of drunken hues casts a hazy glow across her skin and hair, dim stars beginning to twinkle in space as the moon makes its debut. Y/N delights herself with watching the scene unfold, surveying the endless stretch of sky and soaking in its natural beauty. And as Y/N stares across Los Angeles during one of its most breath-taking moments, Harry finds himself staring at her instead. 

Once darkness has soaked across the skyscrapers and roads of California for the night, Y/N and Harry turn in, as well. They end up splayed across Harry’s leather couch, entertaining a new episode of Sugar Rush on the ninety-inch flat screen mounted on his glass wall; it’s simply in order to take up the last couple of hours left before bed. By some inexplicable miracle, the vampire had managed to actually fall asleep last night after he and his visitor had finished their regularly scheduled activities. He doubts he’ll be that lucky tonight, but he has no choice but to play the part for the sake of keeping up appearances. 

Maybe if the universe is feeling exceptionally generous, the human will fall asleep while they’re watching TV and Harry can just carry her up to his room without having to put on an act. It’s a favorable alternative to having to fake sleep until she gives into fatigue; lying awake with his eyes closed for an hour would make him feel as stupid as Niall’s golfing addiction. 

However, it appears that for the time being, Y/N has other plans to bring forward some tried and true exhaustion.

There’s nothing particularly sexual about the fashion in which their bodies are pressed together at the moment, given that it’s a pretty innocent snuggling position. Harry is slumped against the backrest of the sofa with his feet propped on his coffee table, comfy in a pair of black jogging shorts and a vintage Rolling Stones tee. Y/N is nestled into his torso beside him, her head burrowed into his chest with his arm slung nonchalantly across her shoulders and down her back, legs intertwined with his. She had done it out of instinct and Harry doesn’t really have an issue with the gesture; she’s warm and soft and the soothing action of her socked foot running up and down his calf helps him unwind from the day’s events. He likes this, he decides. She smells like him— with her usual scent of honey and lavender permeating through— and she’s decked out in his clothes, aimlessly doodling figures onto his tummy as they enjoy the baking show in comfortable silence. It’s strangely mellow. 

Y/N is the one who instigates, as usual. Humans are so horny, it’s ridiculous. But he benefits from this specific mortal’s libido, so he’s not complaining. 

It starts with her drifting upwards from where she’d been tracing over his butterfly tattoo, her warm fingers stroking over the prominent structure of his clavicle, her eyes flickering up to gauge his reaction. Harry doesn’t move an inch, face maintaining a curtain of calm indifference. He figures she’s just extra touchy, as she normally is. Then the pads of her digits skim across the side of his throat and an impulsive flare of panic pricks the back of his skull, but it quickly dissolves, as it tends to do now around her. She’s the only person in the last two centuries who has managed to touch him there without inciting a rampage. 

Y/N coasts across the nape of his neck, twirling a baby curl around her forefinger distractedly, giving it a small tug in the manner she knows he likes. Harry’s body tightens for a split second and she bites into her lower lip to muffle a mischievous grin. She stretches up, dusting a lingering peck to the curve right behind his ear, running her nose across the shell tenderly. The vampire shifts slightly in his seat, the feathery sensation beginning to weigh at the pit of his stomach. She’s teasing him, and it’s working. 

The mortal flushes her puckered mouth fully to the side of his jugular, rubbing the ridges of her skin over one of the veins chiseling into existence, right over the area where a heartbeat used to lie. Harry’s hand balls into a fist against the dip of her spine, itching to grip onto something to keep his cool. Preferably, her throat. 

When Y/N finally speaks, the hot breath of her words makes his cock twitch against his thigh. “Wanna kiss a bit?” 

Harry cranes his head to look at her, eyebrows jumping up in amusement. “You wanna make-out? What are we, fourteen?”

The girl gives him an impassive pout and glances indicatively towards the armrest of the couch, where they had sat the evening prior while admiring his art wall. “You didn’t have a problem with it last night.” 

Harry presses his lips together into a playful simper. She makes a valid point. “Well, I was horny last night. Wasn’t in my right mind.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes at his juvenile answer.

“And you’re not now?” She prods softly, her gaze slinking down to his spread thighs, almost as if to check if he’s hard. Harry snorts as her action and she bats her lashes up at him with fake innocence, muscling down the sly smirk threatening to emerge across her face. 

“Not really, but maybe I could be…” The creature glimpses at her colored mouth for a heartbeat, reaching a hand up and pushing his air-dried ringlets back from his forehead, lips twitching coyly. “Persuaded.”

Y/N leans forward, buttoning their mouths for a fleeting moment. She pulls back a tad, ghosting the crescent of her top lip over his to try and compel him. “Please?” 

“Mm,” Harry licks at the corner of his mouth, eyes half-lidded tauntingly, “I don’t think that was enough. Show some team spirit, will you?”

The girl gifts him another kiss, this one longer and more intense, a palm making its way to cup his jaw. “Please, H?” 

He’s begun to pant lightly, hand flattening across the small of her back as if to guide her somewhere. He blinks down at her smugly, gnawing into his cheek. “You’re not quite there. Maybe a little more.” 

It turns out one more kiss is enough to convince his metaphorical meter. Y/N ends up perched in his lap, both of his large hands groping at her ass as she clutches the back of his neck, their lips sewn together in a filthy kiss full of gentle whines and impatient tongues. It’s going pretty great, and Harry thinks that Y/N is probably one of the most fun people he’s ever had the pleasure of kissing. Her mouth is as sweet as the sugary scent she always dotes, she ebbs and flows to his movements seamlessly, and the enthusiasm she carries makes every nerve in his body fizzle. The noises she makes are incredibly satisfying, as well. All her needy mewls and delicate whimpers string right down to his groin. 

After a few minutes of dry humping and jesting bites placed on overzealous lips, Harry boosts himself up from his relaxed position, feet knocking off the coffee table as an arm snakes around her hips. He sits forward, extending his free hand and waving it around blindly, too occupied to willingly break their embrace. He refuses to pull away, especially when she’s gluing such dirty moans to the roof of his mouth. His palm swings across the air stubbornly until it finally slaps down against the marble surface he’d been searching for, his grip tightening around its rim for confirmation. He proceeds to scoot the counter forward, intent on laying Y/N out on top so he can get on his knees against his furry carpet, get his boxers down her velvety legs, and get his head bobbing between her quivering thighs. 

Harry’s plan is about to pan out ideally until a high-pitched shriek cuts through the tense ambiance of the room. 

Y/N cracks their kiss, gasping and heaving as her head whizzes from side to side, looking for the origin of the annoying trill that had interrupted their playtime. “What—What is that?”

The vampire glances over his back towards where the ruckus is stemming, the insistent chime grating his heightened ears. He spots the culprit immediately, releasing an irritated groan as a result: his phone. 

From his spot on the edge of the couch, Mitch’s contact picture blazes across the screen. Harry loves that photo of his best friend— the way his emotionless expression and skinny middle finger are directed towards the camera makes it a wonderful shot— but he really wishes he didn’t have to see it right now. He has other more pressing matters. Literal pressing matters, if the tent in his mesh shorts is any indication. 

“Just ignore it.” Harry murmurs, turning back to slam their lips together once again. Y/N obliges without a second thought, happily re-engaging her previous activity of smudging her cupid’s bow across her friend’s as he stretches her out across the table 

Ignoring it works the first time. And the second. But by the third call, Harry has no choice but to break away with an exasperated grunt, his brittle patience forcing him to handle the blaring ringtone. 

He slides his thumb across the screen roughly, bringing it to his ear as he slumps back into the couch cushions, holding up a finger towards Y/N apologetically and mouthing a quick, “It’ll be just a second.”

His guest nods in understanding, letting her head fall back against the cold marble and distracting herself by counting all of the lightbulbs situated at the peaks of the chandeliers above. 

Harry turns his focus to the person on the other end of the phone line, voice snipped with aggravated anger. “What?!”

“Whoa, okay… That’s no way to talk to the elderly. Take it down a notch, Grumpy. Didn’t Snow White teach you any manners?”

The monster takes a deep breath to keep his rage in check, gritting out his words through bared teeth. “I’m fucking busy right now. What do you want?”

“Oh, well, I’m so sorry to be a bother, My Lord. I just wanted to check up on you and make sure you have all your stuff packed for tomorrow. Y’know, like the good friend I am.”

Harry blinks blankly, all indignation flooding out of his system, replaced by utter confusion. “You wanted to check if I’m...? For what? Why would I need to pack?”

There’s a pause on Mitch’s end, as if the man is waiting for Harry to come to the conclusion himself, static filling the speaker. When it’s obvious the younger vampire is clueless, his best friend elaborates slowly. “For the trip. The Vegas trip. The one we take every year around the same time. The one that we all agreed we’d roadtrip in your car tomorrow.”

Harry’s eyes widen in realization, his entire face paling. Fuck.

“The trip.” He mumbles, the fingers of his free hand coming up to rub at his temples worriedly as his mistake dawns on him. “God, I completely forgot about it.” 

“You can’t be serious.” Mitch deadpans, a long sigh following his comment. “Harry, you’re the one that booked the hotel this time. How could you possibly forget?”

“I…” Harry glances over at Y/N as guilt weighs into his demeanor. The girl meets his gaze, smiling sweetly and waving, completely unaware of the horrific ordeal he’s gotten himself into by inviting her over. “I got caught up with something.” 

A humorless snort crackles through the stereo of his phone, Mitch’s voice tinged with irked disbelief. “Yeah, that’s what you’ve been saying for the last four weeks now every time you bail on us. I just figured you’d get your head out of your ass for this one, but I suppose I spoke too soon.”

Harry drags his palm down his face, gripping his chin in thought. “I’m sorry. Genuinely. I didn’t mean to let it slip, I’ve just been so occupied during the last couple of weekends that—”

“That you forgot about our yearly trip. How nice. Just perfect.”

“Mitch, I know I fucked up, alright? But what if—”

The immortal’s solution gets cut short when out of his peripheral vision, he sees Y/N climb off the coffee table and onto the carpet below. Harry’s words lodge in his throat as he watches the girl crawl on all fours across the ground towards him, a cheeky smile ticking the corners of her lips as her irises glimmer schemingly. Shit.

“‘What if’ what?”

“What if...Uhm…” Harry finds himself struggling to keep his end of the conversation going, the reason being that Y/N has now reached the edge of the sofa where he resides. She sits back onto her heels, walking her fingers teasingly across his knees and grasping them with her palms, parting them open widely. “I…”

“For fuck’s sake, H, what are you trying to say?” Mitch snaps; even through the distance, he can feel its bite. 

Y/N nuzzles herself between Harry’s opened legs, a hand riding up one of his thick thigh as she sponges wet kisses to his kneecap, grinning into his skin when her fingers duck under the material of his shorts. His cadence comes out strained with the effort of keeping up an unfazed front. “What if I— what if we switch the reservations?” 

“How do you mean?”

The human’s fingers travel up the length of his inner thigh, sneaking below his cotton briefs and giving the tip of his semi-hard cock a gentle caress. Harry writhes in his seat, watching with bated breath as Y/N draws her forearm back out from beneath his clothes, her middle finger covered in a bead of precum— a result of all the grinding they’d done while kissing. She locks eyes with him and pushes the digit past her swollen lips, sucking off the small droplet while her lashes flutter in pleasure. She moans softly, his familiar saltiness always so welcomed. Her next whisper is sultry and needy. “You taste so fucking good.” 

Harry swallows down a groan and his voice suffers the consequences, coming out shaky and high. “Like...Like what if we switch out the n-names. I could call the hotel and put the rooms under your info instead.”

Mitch is quiet for a second, mulling over his friend’s offer. The instance is long enough for Harry to reach forward and snatch Y/N’s wrist, giving it a dominant squeeze as a scolding grimace dips the ends of his lips and furrows his brows. He mouths his words slowly with an ominous hue, making sure she interprets the message. “That’s enough.”

Y/N twists herself free of his hold, eyes gleaming in challenge. She talks softly as to not be heard through the phone, but she might as well be screaming thanks to Harry’s supernatural hearing abilities. “I don’t think so.” 

“Are you really not going, then?”

The gentle tone of Mitch’s question snaps Harry back into reality. He feels bad for flaking on his crew, but he doesn’t really have a choice at this point. Y/N is already here per his request, and kicking her out would be extremely dickish, even by his standards. “I’m booked the rest of the weekend, mate. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Y/N proceeds to grab onto the elastic band of Harry’s shorts, pulling the front down to expose the clothed bulge that lies beneath. A soiled patch has formed over the material of his underwear, and he can see her irises twinkle in satisfaction, which causes the faint burning in his veins to intensify. The girl palms him through the fabric, preening at the low, tight grunt that escapes Harry’s flexing throat. A shiver pin-balls down his spine and he tries to grab at her forearm to wrench it away from between his legs, but Y/N is determined to work him into a mess, simply groping him more intently and giggling lightly when his hips thrash in response. 

“Alright, I guess that settles it. I’ll just tell the group we’re taking Niall’s car instead, and that Adam and I will take turns driving. Just get the lodging handled, will you?”

“‘Course, I got it, don’t worry.” Harry chokes out, reaching a hand towards Y/N’s hair in a desperate attempt to get a hold of her, but she ducks to evade him. She tugs down his final layer of protection, her mouth immediately finding its way to his large cock and giving it one long lap from base to tip, staring up at him mockingly from beneath heavy lashes. She grasps it in both of her palms, gifting it a few quick pumps and spitting over the head sloppily, rubbing the slit across her bottom lip as she quirks her brows at him in a dare. 

The vampire fails to ward off the fracture in his composure this time. “Christ, you’re such a fucking sl—” 

He stops himself before he finishes the graphic statement, remembering that everything he says is being directly broadcast to someone else on the other end of his phone. Someone who’s oblivious to the filth currently taking place on Harry’s side of the call. “I’m on it, yeah? I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Wait.”

Harry is at the verge of tearing his hair out, his tone teetering at the cusp of sanity. “Yeah?”

“Would you mind telling me why you’re not going? I feel like everyone at least deserves an explanation, especially since you’re dipping on the plans literally the day before.”

The young man quickly clears his throat, forcing himself to keep control as he watches the mortal stick her entire tongue out to run his cock up and down its expanse. “I’ll—I’ll explain when you come back.” 

The textured surface sends zaps of lightning surging through every crevice of Harry’s body, but he somehow enables restraint, as weak as it may be. He silently warns Y/N once again about her actions, carding his fingers into her hair and digging the pads into her scalp. “Stop.”

“Also, why are you breathing so hard? What are you even up to right now?”

The human ignores his command, blowing over the leaking hole of his prick and giving it a playful kiss.

“I’m— fuck— I’m...I’m on the treadmill.”

Mitch goes quiet for a heartbeat. “You don’t have a treadmill.” 

Y/N tosses her hair over her shoulder, leaning down to rest her cheek along Harry’s inner thigh, giving him the perfect angle to view what she’s about to do. She presses her head forward, slipping his entire cock down her throat and gagging when it hits a sensitive spot in the back, her nails raking down his twitching tummy. She keeps him there for an elongated moment, allowing her walls to tighten around his length just how he likes it, toying with his swollen balls and moaning quietly around his prick. He can feel the vibrations burrow into the marrow of his bones.

“I told you to stop.” He doesn’t even bother mouthing his words this time, mood dark and cautious. He can hear Mitch exclaim in confusion through his speaker, but it’s the last thing on his mind right now. 

Y/N’s watery eyes dance with a devious gleam as she grins around his girth, removing him just enough so she can breath properly, rubbing his bubbling tip along the inside of her silky cheek. Her phrase is muffled, but it’s clear enough to completely shatter him. “Make me, Daddy.”

Harry’s features harden. He’s done playing games. 

He directs his attention to the microphone, voice calm and collected to the point where it’s frightening, all the tension and instability crumbling to ash. His brows crease dangerously, accent thicker than she’s ever heard it. “I have to go.”

“Harry—”

“I’ll text you after I fix the booking.” 

The device beeps and the call ends, the phone falling face-down onto the couch.

The vampire roughly jerks Y/N back by her hair, sitting forward until their noses brush, his cold touch sending a prickling across her cheeks and ears. He addresses her with the same type of undisturbed patience he’d shown his friend, aura teeming with quiet power.

“Get up. Now.” 

Y/N ends up with her back pressed into the couch cushions, Harry suspended above her with his knees on either sides of her hips, his cock ramming down her throat harshly as he guides her head with his knuckles twisted into her roots. He’s thrusting forward to meet her mouth, the emerald around his pupils electric with a type of carnal dominance that makes heat pour into her belly. She’s gazing up at him with water streaming freely out of her eyes and spit dripping down her chin, her hands fisting at the leather of the sofa as he fucks her face unrelentingly. 

“You think that little stunt was cute? You think teasing me like that was fun?” He growls as he peers down at her, ramming past her raw lips with no remorse, swimming in the damp choking sounds that bounce back from the furniture in the room. “Open wider. Wider.”

She obeys. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To have me down your throat while you gag around it until you can barely breath? To choke on it while you take that heavy load and swallow every drop?”

Y/N bobs her head feverishly, unable to form any coherent sentences due to his violent pace. 

The grip Harry has on the crown of her head tightens, his other hand cupping the back of her skull to push her deeper down his shaft, her nose smearing over his happy trail as his heavy balls bump against her slobbery chin. “Take that fucking cock, then. Take every inch like the filthy fucking brat you are.”

Y/N’s blurry eyes lull shut, the edges of her stinging mouth curving upwards as he hits every single one of her desires with a skill only he possesses. She doesn’t know why— or if it’s even healthy, at this point— but she’s never felt more pleasure than when she’s at Harry’s disposal. She just loves seeing him come undone for her. 

“God, you like that, don’t you? Like being my little plaything?” The grin dimpling Harry’s cheeks is so utterly erotic and sinful, Y/N feels like she’s damning her soul just by glimpsing at it. He delicately thumbs tears off her cheekbones, contradicting his other much less tame motions. “Baby just wants to feel Daddy cum down her throat, doesn’t she?”

Stars begin spotting the girl’s vision, her mind vignetting as a fulfilling ache settles into her jugular. She nods her head drunkenly, coughing dryly as her lungs rattle with shallow inhales. 

Harry gives an exceptionally hard stroke, holding her in place and feeling her constrict around him, her nails digging into the aged leather of his sofa. He takes a pause, broad chest heaving as his head falls back to hang between his shoulder blades, the golden light of his chandeliers reflecting off the red shade inking his irises. His climax begins to tip into his blood. “Say it. Be a good girl and say, ‘please cum for me, Daddy.’”

Y/N’s voice floats out raspy and trembling as she ogles up at the monster wishfully, her ability to speak absolutely frayed from the exertion she’s been put through. Her sentence is barely comprehensible given her full mouth, but watching her try is what gets Harry off. “P-Please cum for me, Daddy.”

Thick ribbons of warmth suddenly erupt down her throat, coaxing a series of garbled moans to pour from Harry’s chest. His whole body tightens as an orgasm floods his system, the muscles of his back drawing taut, his defined biceps jolting, and his lean abdomen clenching in ecstasy. His fern tattoos ripple over his tanned skin as he gives a few more deep strokes for good measure, milking himself to completion and drinking up the tiny noises of sensitivity Y/N makes. He finishes dishing the punishment she’d earned, delivering burst after burst of cum just as he’d promised, feeling her flex around his slick cock as she eagerly swallows every spurt. 

“Every last bit, baby. All of it. Christ, that’s my fucking girl. ”

The boy cranes his neck forward again, taking in her disheveled appearance and humming in needy appreciation. Her hair is a disaster from all of his tugging, her eyes are puffy and red, and her lips are flushed and plump. There’s trails of dried tears tracing her cheeks and across her jaw, the collar of her borrowed shirt is soggy with spit, and he can just barely make out the damp patch she’s stained into his boxers along the insides of her thighs. She’s fiddling with her fingers across her lap, continuously shifting around in her seat and clamping her legs together, and Harry comes to the realization that she’s trying to ride the seam of his briefs in order to get a spoonful of relief. 

In his sexually demented opinion, she’s looks like a proper angel.

Harry gradually withdraws himself from her mouth, watching with empty content as she sputters into a coughing fit and gulps down air as if she hasn’t had it for weeks. She wipes at the lower half of her face messily with the back of her hand, staring up at him all moony and soft, feeling her cheeks boil at his conceited simper. The vampire carefully tucks his drenched prick back into his clothes, crouching down to her level and lilting his head to the side, tucking a strand of tangled hair behind her heated ear. The pads of his digits streak down the front of her neck and perch at the hollow between her collarbones, her pulse thundering beneath her sweaty flesh. He taps at the center of her throat for significance, tone fond and almost caring. “Is it sore?”

Y/N struggles to get saliva down, rattling her head in agreement since her vocal chords are refusing to work. 

Harry folds the hem of his tee over his fingers, reaching forward to help clean up anything leftover across her chin and jaw. Y/N eyes him with a form of detached admiration, enamored with the way he tends to her so gently now that the session has come to a close. 

“You like it, though, right?” 

The young woman doesn’t even try to mask the fact that she indeed does, nodding her head once again. 

“That’s good to hear, pet.” Harry drops his shirt back over his belly, giving her a chaste peck to the nose. Despite the ever-present coldness of his touch, the action sparks a warm glow that surges from the tips of her ears to the heels of her feet. “Want to make sure I wasn’t being too rough.” 

He stands up onto his knees, dismounting the sofa and combing a few rouge curls out of his eyes, nudging at her socked foot jestingly with his. Y/N kicks him in return as she busies herself with combing out the knots from her mussed locks, attempting to distract herself from the gnawing running along the inside of her stomach. She needs to get it sedated, but she’s too timid to ask the vampire outright, which she knows is ironic given what they’d just done. 

Harry sits down along the marble counter of the coffee table with his forearms propped along his knees, toying with his lionhead daylight ring (it’s the only one he wears at home, out of necessity) as he watches her tend to the mess he’d created. He smiles to himself in satisfied amusement— she always looks so pretty freshly face-fucked. 

The monster then notices how the human is still rubbing her thighs together, reminding him that she had been left unattended. He decides that he should do what any gentleman would and provide assistance to the issue; it’s only fair, according to the unspoken laws of their little mutual arrangement. He hooks his fingers along the rim of the table beneath him, dragging it forward until his knees meet the edge of the couch, knocking hers open slightly. He leans back onto his palms as she gives him a curious glance, the olive tone around his pupils glittering with hunger while his fingers tap knowingly along the surface below. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Harry’s eyebrows kink upward. “Can’t a man look in his own home?”

“Of course he can, but just not at me. Staring’s rude. Especially when I’m covered in spit and bodily fluids.”

The boy gives an exaggerated pout, pairing it with a set of puppy dog eyes and a honeyed drawl. “But you look so cute covered in my bodily fluids.”

Y/N stares at him flatly. “Wow. I’m so flattered. I’ll file that compliment right under the one where you said I look adorable with jizz all over my eyelashes.” 

“Well, you do! And that was a great compliment, if you think about it. It’s unique and creative— very avant-garde of me.”

“You need brain cells in order to be avant-garde.”

“Just shut up and get on your hands and knees.” 

///

Harry drinks from Y/N that night. 

He knows Mitch would scold him for it, considering the quota for draft beverages from mortal taps is strictly once a week, per his orders. But the creature just can’t help himself. She smells so sweet, and her neck looks so tempting when her head is turned to the side in sleep; even in the dark, he can see her veins pumping beneath the taut skin. He justifies it by telling himself that any vampire would give into weakness if they were in his place, and it’s not like he’s some uncultured, unhinged newborn who lacks basic control. He’s spent decades refining his impulses and taming his animalistic instincts to the point where he can walk through a butcher shop and not even bat an eye. He’s more than capable of double-dipping without threatening her life. 

However, Harry will admit that he does make some embarrassing sounds while he’s fang-deep in her carotid artery. He can’t be expected to withhold them, especially not with how good she tastes. Y/N’s blood reminds him of so many things that he can’t ever quite place its flavor. Sometimes it reminds him of green grapes and champagne, and others it dawns on him in the form of peaches and cream. There’s instances where she doesn’t even fall into the usual spectrum of taste, but rather reminds him of sensations instead of tangible objects. Sometimes she tastes the way the first breath of spring feels— light and soothing, with hints of fresh florals and dewy mornings. Other times, she tastes like strawberries on a summer evening— warm, tangy, and nostalgic. At the risk of sounding like a brain-dead junky, drinking from Y/N is a magical experience that he wishes could last forever; Harry has never found it more difficult to pull back from someone’s throat than when he has to recede from hers. 

After the immortal has had his fill, he pricks his finger along one of his fangs and smears a drop of his blood onto Y/N’s tongue, watching the two gaping holes on her neck heal instantaneously and leave behind a faint bruise that will likely be gone by morning. He spends the rest of the night twirling stands of her hair around his fingers and counting her heartbeats, vaguely wondering what it feels like to have one. It’s been so long since he’s carried a pulse, he’s forgotten what it’s like to have it thumping in his chest. All he has left is a phantom organ and not a day goes by where he doesn’t miss its steady rhythm. 

The second the first beam of sunlight filters in through the crack in Harry’s window shades, he’s up on his feet pacing around the kitchen, going through his daily morning routine of preparing breakfast with a lively soundtrack to keep him company. That is, until his actual companion awakens; then he happily replaces his playlist with her groggy voice and tired eyes. 

Harry has chosen to prepare parfaits as their first meal of the day, scooping vanilla yogurt into two marbled bowls and setting out an abundant array of toppings, smiling to himself at the way Y/N’s eyes light up the room. She fills her platter to the brim with blueberries, chunks of banana, diced peaches, and crushed walnuts, while Harry loads his with tons of raspberries, slices of mango, scoops of granola, and plenty of honey. He runs into some trouble halfway through squeezing out the last ingredient, proceeding to shake it vigorously to try and get rid of the clump blocking the spout. The bottle refuses to cooperate and Harry turns it towards his face to get a better look at the problem, winking one eye shut to focus better on the cap. He gives it another testing squeeze and much to his luck, the jammed portion squirts loose and he ends up with syrup dripping down his face. 

Y/N doesn’t even attempt to stifle her amusement, nearly choking on a spoonful of yogurt as laughter takes over her entire body. The vampire stands rigidly beside her, glaring at the teddy bear-shaped container with so much hatred, she thinks it might melt. When the human finally manages to tame her giggles, she reaches up and uses her index finger to collect honey right off Harry’s cheek, sticking the digit into her mouth and sucking it off with a loud pop. 

Her friend gives her a deadpan scowl, to which she simply shrugs her brows playfully while gifting him a bright grin. “Now you know what it feels to have a sticky liquid shot into your eye. Doesn’t feel too good, does it?”

“Fuck off.” 

“You look pretty, though. Does that make it better?”

“I will literally pour my yogurt onto your hair.”

“Karma’s a bitch, Winnie the Pooh.”

Harry ends up having to shower in order to successfully get rid of the gooey substance, though it’s hardly a hassle given that Y/N gladly joins him. It doesn’t turn too sexual, surprisingly enough. 

The duo stand under the shower panel covered in suds, steam floating around their naked bodies as water pelts down on top of them, matting hair to their necks and jaws. Harry doesn’t know why, but he likes the fact that they’re now comfortable enough to be nude around each other outside of their usual dynamic. It’s fulfilling, for some odd reason. 

The girl helps the creature scrub off the honey with some facial cleanser, rubbing at his flushed cheeks with her thumbs and fighting off an endeared giggle when he scrunches his nose in annoyance. His voice comes out as a childish whine. “That hurts.”

“Stop being such a baby.” She huffs, going in along his cheekbones and rolling her eyes when he grumbles. “Lean down.” 

Harry abides, ducking down so she can get a better angle, casually coasting his hands onto her hips to keep her from losing her footing to the slippery floor. Y/N leans forward onto the tips of her toes, squinting at him through the foggy air as she continues to wash off the syrup, wanting to make sure she isn’t missing a single spot. Harry watches her quietly with his sopping curls sticking to his forehead and along the nape of his neck, lips twitching fondly at how hellbent she is on getting the mess off. Her brows are creased in concentration and her tongue is peeking out of her mouth; he has to restrain the impulse to surge forward and kiss her. 

Once Y/N is satisfied with her work, she falls back onto her heels, washing any remnants away under the stream and pushing her drenched strands out of her face. “All done. Try not to do it again.” 

“I make no promises.” Harry tuts as he joins her beneath the water, bare chest a mere inch from hers as he quirks his brows coyly. “It got you naked, so I’ll probably do it again.”

“I won’t help next time.” 

“Then I’ll just rub my face against yours and get it all over you. Won’t have much of a choice, then.” 

“You’re a literal child.”

Y/N grabs the bottle of chamomile shampoo from the shelf carved into the polished stone wall of the shower, uncapping it and pouring a glob into the palm of her hand. She sets the container back down and beckons Harry forward with the forefinger of her free hand. The vampire drifts towards her once again and wraps his arms across the dip of her back, lightly swaying her from side to side as she begins working the shampoo into his roots, the pads of her fingers massaging his scalp in slow circles. The groan that betrays him is pitiful. 

Y/N pretends not to hear it, continuing to work a lather into his curls as the boy trails his fingers up and down the center of her spine, the feathery sensation causing her to shiver despite the hot temperature of the water. Harry leans down to nestle his face into the crook of his friend’s neck, laying his head along her shoulder and cradling her to his body as she combs her fingers through his locks. He can’t remember the last time he took a shower with someone just for the sake of it, with no ulterior motive other than to bask in each other’s presence. It’s nice. 

Harry begins sponging his lips across the curve of Y/N’s throat, feeling her tense momentarily before relaxing back into his grasp, the pads of her digits scratching at his scalp. 

“God, that feels so good.” Harry mumbles, tone so garbled in bliss, it’s barely understandable. 

The mortal slowly coaxes him back under the direct line of the shower, thoroughly rinsing the bubbles out of his hair and making sure to carefully wash any leftover shampoo out of his lashes. She then ties her arms around his broad shoulders, gently running her nails up and down the expanse of his muscular back, feeling the tendons unknot under her guidance. Y/N cranes her head to the side and flushes her lips to Harry’s temple, the pattering of the water camouflaging the fact that the area lacks a pulse. She sighs softly in innocent pleasure, the warm air sending a delightful bristling down the young man’s neck and drawing another drunken whimper from his lungs. This all feels therapeutic, almost. Neither had realized how much they missed domesticity until now. 

The human suddenly snorts humorously, talking against Harry’s waxy skin. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to make a move yet.” 

Harry rattles his head sleepily, the ridges of his mouth tickling her jugular as he does so. His voice is distant and tender, but his words send a pang of electricity to her core. “I’ll fuck you afterwards. Just wanna enjoy this right now.” 

Y/N lets her eyes lull shut, allowing the sheets of hot water to numb her mind the same way it had his, a certain type of mellowness soaking into her bones. Her tone comes out as soothed and detached as her lover’s, all her attention funneled into how incredible his hard body feels pressed to hers in such an intimate fashion, his strong arms clinging to her like a lifeline. “I’m not complaining.”

Even in his distracted state, Harry still somehow manages to wriggle in a smug quip. “Of course you’re not. I give you nothing to complain about.”

“Dickhead.”

Y/N gives his ringlets a spiteful tug, which he responds to with an airy chuckle and a cheeky smack across her ass. The girl jumps slightly with a small gasp and a handful of select curses, which only causes him to cackle even further. “You love that shit, don’t you?”

“Go back to keeping your mouth shut.” 

“Mm. S’what I thought.” 

Harry keeps his sensual promise, as he always does. 

As soon as they exit the shower, he immediately wanders into the bedroom, the only towel in his possession being the one he’s using to shake out his damp curls. Y/N dries off her body patiently as she stands in front of the clouded mirror, rubbing the linen over her softened skin. She handles her hair second, patting and scrunching the water out as she thinks on what Harry could possibly be doing that is taking him so long. She doubts he’s getting dressed, if his earlier intentions are any indication, and he seemed like he had a plan in motion when he’d walked out, so there must be a method to his prolonged absence. 

When the monster pads back into the bathroom, he is just as bare as when he’d left, the towel he’d used on his locks crumpled in his large hands. He chucks it into the linen hamper beside the jacuzzi, sauntering up behind Y/N and she has to force herself not to use the mirror to ogle below his waist. She folds her towel neatly onto the counter, reaching forward and wiping the last bit of condensation off the glass so she can get a proper view of Harry’s face. Maybe it’ll help her deduce what he’s plotting. 

The boy presses up against her backside, pushing her forward until her hips are wedged between his torso and the edge of the bathroom counter, moving all her stringy hair onto one shoulder with the back of his hand. Harry locks eyes with her through the mirror, speckling a few sloppy kisses along the back of her neck and grinning into her flesh when a shiver coils down her spine. He looks so fucking good with his damp ringlets glued along his sharp jaw, his jade eyes glossy with lascivious intentions, and his cheeks and chest still colored from the hot water, tattoos looking as alluring as ever. He nuzzles the tip of his nose across the shell of her ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and tugging teasingly, the warm air of his low, dominant tone causing her flinch in anticipation. 

“Arms behind your back.” 

Y/N obeys without a hitch, bringing her hands together atop the alcove at the bottom of her spine. She feels the unmistakable sensation of cold metal looping around her wrists, tightening with soft clicks and pinching at her skin. The cuffs sift into the designated setting and Harry gives them a quick yank to check for security, tying the excess chain link around his knuckles and pulling down harshly. Y/N’s body contorts to his influence, her arms straightening out as her back arches, chest swelling forward while her hips remain perched to the tabletop, held in place by his own. She can feel the head of his cock dab against the back of her thighs, his irises darkening as he surveys her bust with a type of barely-contained desire that sends heat flooding into her abdomen. 

Harry ducks his head further down to glue more kisses along the slope of her shoulder, nipping periodically and leaving behind a neat row of love bites that he’ll admire in detail later. The words he murmurs against her skin deliver a sweltering simmer in their wake. “Do you want it rough?” 

Y/N swallows thickly, nodding her head several times and whispering a bashful, “Yes.” 

“‘Yes’ what?”

The human licks at her lips tentatively, squeaking a tad when gives the metal hoops an expectant tug, urging a reply. “Yes, sir.” 

Harry’s lashes flutter shut for a second, the corners of his lips twitching in arrogant satisfaction. “You’ve got the filthiest tongue, but you know how to make it say the sweetest things, don’t you, baby?”

“Only for you.”  

“No one else?”

“No one else.”

The vampire’s eyes open slowly, head tilting to the side to assess her with sly amusement. “You wanna know how I can tell that’s the truth?” 

Y/N’s joints are starting to ache due to the position he’s fixed her in, but she doesn’t mind the burn. It feeds into the appeal. “H-How?”

Harry leans forward, brushing his wet lips up her jaw, the tip of his cock spreading her open just a smidge. “Because every time I fuck you, you’re always so bloody tight. Means I’m the only one stretching out that snug little cunt.”

A broken whine escapes Y/N’s sore throat— courtesy of what had occurred the night prior— and she squirms in the brunette’s grip, trying to shimmy her way further down his length. She’s anxious to feel him fill her. “Deeper.” 

“Pardon?”

“Go deeper. Want it all.” 

Harry raises an eyebrow in impressed curiosity. “You want it all in one go? Don’t want me to prep you first?” 

She shakes her head stubbornly, pushing back against him and succeeding in sinking an inch or so. Harry’s entire face hardens as she clenches around the head of his prick, attempting to ride down further to sedate her desperate need. He twists his fist tighter around the chain, his other hand coming up to grip her throat, forearm pressed between her breasts as he gets a decent hold to prepare for what’s to come.  

“If it gets to be too much,” Harry dabs a gentle kiss onto her cheek; it’s to communicate the importance of the message amidst the tense atmosphere, “you know to tell me, right?” 

“Mmhm.”

“Alright. Ready?”

“Always.”

Y/N nearly passes out. Even though she’s grown accustomed to Harry’s size and girth, it somehow never fails to shock her into a state of unexpected rapture. He just fits so well inside her— hits every nook and crevice like he was meant to touch every single one. That, combined with his unrelinquishing thrusts and sinful dirty talk...It’s enough to render anyone helpless. It’s certainly enough to have her shaking and screaming against his chest, and it’s definitely more than enough to drive her towards an orgasm that she knows will blow out her legs for at least the rest of the day. 

Harry fucks into her just how she’d requested— rough and vehement. He presses her bare back to his chest by using the hold he has around her throat, her head falling backwards onto his shoulder as he pounds into her belly from behind. His other hand is braided into the chain between the cuffs, controlling how her body seizes up and gives way. She’s standing on the tips of her toes, legs spread open as much as her weak knees will support, scraggly breaths stuttering from her nose and mouth as shattered noises of ecstasy decorate the space the fading steam has left behind. Her hips are ramming forward against the rim of the counter, the marble knocking against her pubic bone to the point where she knows bruises will develop later on. She doesn’t mind it; she loves seeing the memories Harry brands onto her, whether that be in the form of hickies across her thighs, fingerprints over her waist, or his rings fanned out across the swell of her ass. She’ll take anything he’s willing to give. 

The vampire is dismantling just as quickly as she is, obvious in the fractured growls and soft grunts he’s puffing against the side of her face. His pink-polished nails dig into her jugular, fingers twitching as her heartbeat hammers against his palm, sending vibration down his whole nervous system. His cock is slicking into her easily and it’s obvious the anticipation of what he had said during their bath had gotten to her; he can feel how wet she is with every stroke. It’s dripping down her quivering thighs and smearing all over his tiger head tattoo, damp slaps resonating from where her backside hits against his tinted pelvis. 

Harry stares down hazily at where he’s spreading her open, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as tiny mewls itch along the back of his raw throat, her own sounds playing across his ears with each buck of his thighs. They float through the heavy air like a lullaby and he can confidently say he’d listen to her moans forever, if time allowed. 

“I think it’s funny,” Harry starts with a comedic edge to his strained voice, mimicking the introduction Y/N had used the day before when they’d been in the jacuzzi, “that you’re always so willing to let me use you however I want. That you literally beg me to take you this hard. It’s almost pitiful, really, that you never had anyone fuck you right before I came along.”

The girl squirms in his arms, her hands flat against his abdomen, nails carving into his flesh. Her sentences come out cracked and almost pained. “I-I wish I’d met you sooner.” 

“Yeah, I bet you do.” Harry grits against the shell of her ear, smirking when she worries her lower lip beneath her top teeth, trying to keep a tab on what he knows is probably an embarrassingly loud keen. “I bet you wish you’d had me back home, huh? Spent all your time fucking around with those vanilla small-town boys, never had a real man treat you the way you wanted. Bet you didn’t even like those pricks, did you, darling?”

Y/N shakes her head vigorously in response. “They were so boring. You’re so much better.” 

She’s working his praise kink like a charm.

“Poor thing.” Harry scoffs sympathetically, running his grasp upwards until his thumb and forefinger rope around her jaw. He maneuvers her head into place, forcing her to look at herself in the mirror, hissing his words lowly. “Eyes up. See how pretty you look taking every last bit of that cock? And the way your tummy’s bulging? That’s how you know the sex is good— that’s how it’s supposed to look.”

Y/N gazes upon the image her friend is referring, her exhales hiccuping in her chest at the way an obvious bump rises in her belly every time he thrusts inside. Not only that, but Harry just looks incredible, as well, with his heavily inked arm flushed between her breasts, the art flexing to life as he yanks her down against his lap by her neck. She can see the sweat beading his hairline, his freshly-washed ringlets jumping to his movements as he groans into her scalp. 

Y/N’s lips part in a silent moan and the immortal takes this chance to shove his first two fingers into her mouth, weighing them against her tongue and instructing her with a clear, deep accent. “Suck.”

She does so obediently, her cheeks hollowing as she gasps around the digits, swiveling to match his tempo. Between her glistening body, the needy expression painted across her appearance as she conforms to his every demand, and the way her walls are clinging to him like a vice as she eagerly licks and suckles at him…

Harry loses it. 

“Fucking hell.” The monster unclamps the hand he has around her jugular and Y/N drops back down onto her heels, ankles quaking now that she has to carry her own weight. His palm finds refuge along the back of her skull instead, proceeding to shove her head down towards the counter, pulling at the cuffs to finagle her into a folded position. “Bend over.”

Y/N does as told, a small, “mm!” plucking at her vocal chords as Harry pushes her cheek down against the cold marble situated between his two sinks. He pins her head to the surface and she casts her attention upwards to try and get a peek of him through the glass. His eyes look unnaturally dark, though she can’t quite place the shade given her limited view. 

The vampire makes sure the chain link is secured around his knuckles, proceeding to use the toy to bounce Y/N against his cock. He yanks her towards his torso until she thunks wetly against his base, using his hips to push her forward harshly and pulling out until his tip is barely grazing her entrance. He repeats this action over and over, weak whimpers spilling shamelessly from his plump ruby lips as he keeps her face fastened down, maintaining some form of consistent stability. Every fiber of his being sparks with bliss as he watches her jerk against the counter, back caving forward and causing her naked chest to bulge against the stone panel. One of these days, she’s going to drive him mental. He swears it. 

“There’s a good girl, minx.” Harry’s head tips backwards, bobbing back and forth as his sticky chest heaves with the exertion of keeping him tethered to reality. “Take it just like that, yeah? God, you should see the way you’re so snug around me. Love that cock, don’t you? Say it. Tell me you love it.”

Y/N’s fingers curl into loose fists against the dip of her spine, nails digging into her palms. “I love your cock, Harry. I love it so much. Don’t stop, please don’t fucking— oh!” He prods over her g-spot and she shudders below him. “Shit, keep going! Right there, right there, right there— oh my God!”

“Right here? Is that what’s gonna make my dirty little whore cum?” Harry grinds his teeth, ignoring the rouge curls falling into his furrowed brows, jabbing the spongy area with continuous plunges. “More? Look at how you’re shaking, baby. And you’re just so fucking wet. Absolutely soaked and... and fuck, that’s my sweet girl.” 

The boy keeps delivering every plea she chokes out, his climax beginning to froth at the trench of his stomach and along the underside of his balls. A familiar glow starts to pour into his dormant veins. “I’m almost there, dove. Gonna fill you up until it runs down your thighs.”

“Y-You’re so good, I can’t fucking— I’m gonna—”

“Beg for it. Beg for Daddy, princess.” 

Y/N does so with no remorse, confessing to him how much she wants his load, telling him that she needs to feel him spill inside her all warm and thick and heavy. A dark, open-mouthed smirk adorns Harry’s features as he fucks a throbbing ache between her thighs, feeling his mind completely slip. He may be damned with eternal life, but in this instant, the immortal feels like he touches heaven. 

Then, that moment of pure euphoria is stripped away by the sound of his front door clicking open. 

Harry’s eyes snap awake, all his motions coming to an abrupt halt. He shushes a protesting Y/N quietly, tuning his heightened hearing to make sure he hadn’t imagined the sound. 

But no, it’s very much real. It’s followed by the noise of the lock clanking back into its hole, and then three pairs of footsteps begin echoing down the hallway that leads to his living room. He recognizes every single one and unhinged rage suddenly flares around his pupils, potent and bright red. If Y/N wasn’t in such a compromisable position, he wouldn’t have gotten away with that slip-up. 

“Christ, you’ve got to be fucking shitting me.”

Harry carefully withdraws himself from between the mortal’s legs, wincing a bit at the loss of suction and feeling a spoonful of guilt stem from the disappointed whine Y/N sobs. His swollen, leaking cock sways lightly as he takes a cautious step back, testing to see if he’s capable of moving without face-planting the ground. His mind is misty and he’s obviously drenched in the pungent scent of sex, but other than that, he reckons he can manage just fine. Especially with the newfound anger coursing through his nerves— a direct result of the unexpected trio of intruders chatting nonchalantly on the floor below. 

Harry stumbles towards the exit of the bathroom, knees wobbly and head spinning, an unsatisfied gnawing toiling in his groin. He needs to get that taken care of as soon as possible, but he can’t until he gets rid of the three morons milling around his foyer. He snatches his cherry blossom silk robe from the hook on the wall, wrapping it around himself tightly and making sure to cover all his assets to prevent any mishaps. 

He glances up at a pouting Y/N as he ties off the ribbon around his waist, walking back and helping her onto her unstable feet, cooing apologetically. “Just give me a minute, sweetheart. I heard some visitors come in downstairs ‘cause, apparently, they don’t understand the concept of privacy. This is the last time I’m trusting anyone with an extra key.”  

The girl leans back against one of the sinks, blinking up at him emptily as he thumbs over her chin in comfort. Her voice is hardly audible, raw with exhaustion. “How...How did you know they were here? I didn’t hear them come in...” 

Harry pauses for a moment, clearing his throat awkwardly and pecking her on the nose to insert a distraction. He throws some humor into the mix as well, wanting to steer the conversation to safe grounds, opting for using a bit of compulsion to get the job done. His pupils dilate as his sentences swim around her head in a soothing voice, heavy with persuasion. “I heard the door slam shut. I guess you were a little too busy screaming my name to notice.” 

Y/N’s pupils expand to match his, her face going slack as the supernatural magic sews into her thoughts and molds her perspective to his story. Her lashes flutter in mild confusion, brows cinching as her brain recalibrates itself. The creases in her forehead dissolve as all of her doubt melts away, the corners of her plump lips quirking at his snarky remark. “I guess so.” 

“Can’t blame you, though.” Harry taps at her bottom lip cheekily, shrugging his brows. “I was giving it to you pretty good.” 

“Stop being such an arrogant little shit.” Y/N rolls her foggy eyes, but she can’t hide the way her heartbeat spikes— not from him. Then, her face suddenly wracks with embarrassment, eyes shattering with humiliated realization. “Oh my God, that means they probably heard everything…”

Oh, they definitely heard everything, Harry thinks. They’ve got nothing better to do other than pry. 

He nurses her downcast face with his cold palm, one shoulder rising and falling casually to show it’s no big deal. “Don’t worry about it, hm? I’m gonna go kick them out, anyways, so you won’t have to deal with it.”

The pet name and his kind gesture eases her woes a bit, but not much. “Still. I’m never showing my face in public ever again.”

Now it’s the vampire’s turn to roll his eyes at her theatrics. “Just stay here, yeah? It’ll only take a second, and then…” Her friend gives her naked body a suggestive once-over, licking at the corner of his mouth. “Then we can finish what we started.” 

Y/N kicks at his ankle, jokingly chastising him for his wandering gaze as she fiddles with her fingers within the handcuffs. “Just go.”  

The moment Harry’s bare feet step off the last rung of his staircase, he begins spewing venom at the three imbeciles standing around at the mouth of his entrance corridor. 

“Are you fucking dense?” He stomps up towards the group of young men with balled fists and bristling irises, all his spite trained on Mitch. “I told you I was busy! That suggests that you should’ve stayed away for the weekend! It meant, ‘leave me alone,’ not ‘come to my flat unannounced.’”

“Yeah, we know you’re busy.” Niall boasts with a loud scoff, shaking his head as an afterthought. “I think the whole building knows, at this point.”

The Irish bloke grabs Xander, who catches onto what the man is doing and happily takes a part in the action. He bends over while Niall grasps onto his shoulders and begins to mimic thrusting, arching his back forward and shaking his ass. He sucks one of his fingers into his mouth, moaning profusely to add authenticity to their vulgar reenactment. “Oh, Harry! Right there, don’t stop!”

Niall drops his voice a few octaves for symbolism, putting on a shitty British accent as he bucks against Xander’s backside. “Yeah, baby, you like that? Like it right there? Tell me how much you love that cock.” 

Harry’s jaw clenches as he tries to ignore them, refusing to give rise to their taunting. The two boys break into a puddle of giggles at his expense, nudging each other triumphantly and eventually dying down. Harry isn’t normally the type of person to daydream about violence— why would anyone partake in something so barbaric when dismantling an enemy psychologically is so much better?— but he finds himself fantasizing about tearing Niall and Xander’s hands off and using them as ping-pong paddles. 

Mitch shifts his body towards his best friend, arms crossed loosely with an expression of sheer amusement painted across his bearded face, seeming undisturbed by Harry’s rampage and deadly grimace. “It’s nice to see you, too, H.” 

The younger vampire takes a measured inhale, swallowing down the urge to rip the older man’s mustache clean off. He directs his next sentence at all of them, glaring intently as his voice comes out flat and harsh. “Get out.”

Niall raises his palms in peaceful surrender, proceeding to use an index finger to signal hastily between his impromptu porno co-star and himself. “Don’t look at us, this was Mitch's idea. We just came along.” 

“None of you should have come at all.” Harry spits, tightening his lean arms over his chest, biceps rippling under the thin silk of his elegant robe. “What do you want?” 

A soft giggle suddenly bursts from Xander and he momentarily slaps his hand over his mouth to muddle it, but his eyes continue to dance with mirth. “Sorry, I just can’t take you seriously in that.” He juts his chin towards Harry’s pajamas. “I think my grandmother had one just like it.” 

“Yeah, I stole this from her place right after I pissed on her grave.” The brunette snaps with an exaggerated smile, feeling a flare of evil satisfaction at the way Xander’s grin immediately plops. Niall snorts loudly and tries to cover it up, but it fails and he is left having to brace the brunt of the other boy’s contempt. 

Harry turns back to face Mitch while the other two immortals bicker, now aware that he is the mastermind behind this entire coup. “What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you have left for Vegas already?”

“Yeah, we should have.” He answers pointedly with a soft, dejected sigh. Harry has to keep himself from casting his gaze away in guilt. 

The annual trip had been a tradition he and Mitch had started in the nineties, just them two. As their group had expanded, so had the attendant list, and now it was something special their whole clique did together to put some extra excitement— something stable to look forward to— into the endless years they had ahead. No one had missed out on the trip in the last thirty years, especially not willingly, and no one ever thought Harry— the co-founder of the event— would be the one to break that streak. He can tell Mitch is upset. 

“I’m sorry.” Harry mumbles, squeezing at the inside of his elbows and putting as much genuine emotion into his demeanor as possible. “It just slipped my mind and I made another commitment that I can’t bail on. But it won’t happen again, I promise. Betsy swear.” 

Mitch’s downturned lips jolt slightly at the mention of his old bayonet. He had kept the weapon after the American Revolution had ended, as a tribute to the old life he was leaving behind after he transitioned, naming it fondly after his mother. With all of that history taken into appeal, it’s no wonder the item means a lot to him. That is exactly why the two best friends had developed a dynamic around it. 

They would tie an oath to the object in order to ensure it would be kept, and if the promise was broken, the other would get to stab the traitor with it. The game had been something Mitch and Harry had conjured up decades ago while under the influence of some very strong psychedelics, but it had stuck, for some reason. It’s simply a playful inside joke, and though it’s a tad gruesome, it’s hardly an issue considering they both self-heal quickly. Any damage inflicted is equivalent to that of a rubber band snapping against their skin, so in the end, no harm, no foul. At its core, it’s just a vampire’s version of a pinky swear, hence the term, “Betsy swear.” Harry had thought about getting it patented, at one point. 

The jade-eyed boy feels a weight lift off his shoulders as Mitch indulges one of his signature quiet chuckles. “Alright, fine. Betsy swear, then. The reason we’re here is ‘cause I wanted to check up on you before we left, and ‘cause I wanted to make sure you switched the reservation. You never got back to me about it.” 

“Oh, my bad. I got it done, though. Everything should check out.” Harry reassures, waving away his visitor’s doubt. He’d tended to the job last night after Y/N fell asleep and he meant to send a confirmation text, but forgot when the mortal had begun to stir randomly. He’d had to put away his phone and pretend to be unconscious for a few minutes until her agitation melted away, resulting in the deed going undone, courtesy of the mild panic that had dulled his memory. “Why didn’t you just text me about it?” 

Mitch gives him a deadpan look, pursing his lips to fight off an entertained grin. “Oh, I did. Multiple times, actually. But I reckon you were too busy with the treadmill to notice.” 

The older creature’s reference works as intended, an irritating flush crawling up Harry’s neck and pouring into his ears, garnering a fit of cackles on his companion’s behalf.

“Fuck off.” Harry grumbles as he shoves Mitch’s shoulder, but the insult is hard to take seriously when he’s wrestling a smirk of his own. 

“Is it the girl from the club?” The lanky man inquires curiously, tilting his head to the side with an impressed air. “It’s been, what, four weeks now? That’s a record, I think. You’ve never kept one around that long.” 

“What can I say, the sex is good.” Harry shrugs easily, tucking a couple of rebellious curls away from his eyes, which gleam crimson red as a supporting factor to his next comment. “And the blood is even better.”

Mitch rolls his irises playfully. “Alright, Casanova, pipe down.” He glances over his friend’s rumpled appearance, taking in the slightly damp skin, wild hair, and the plethora of faded hickies peeking through the boy’s robe, littering his chest and collarbones. “She’s got you on a tight leash, I see.” 

“It’s only fair, considering she spends most of that time in my handcuffs. Quid pro quo and all that.” Harry quips back, bursting into laughter when Mitch gags dramatically. 

“You know you could’ve just brought her along, right?” Mitch suggests, tucking his hands into his pockets. “We each have our own rooms, remember? No one would get in the way of your little late night jogs. Though I can’t say the same for the other hotel guests. She’s not necessarily subtle.” 

Harry presses his tongue along the inside of his cheek coyly. “It’s not my fault I’m good in bed. It’s a curse, really. Could never get away with dressing room sex.”

He contemplates Mitch's offer for a second. He thinks it could be a fun time, but then he recalls that the trip to Vegas is a week-long party, which Y/N can’t indulge because she works a regular nine-to-five. Plus, a human in a car full of vampires sounds like the introduction to an ominous joke. Something is bound to slip, especially because no one in the crew is used to having humans around outside of meal hours. He doesn’t want the responsibility of constantly having to wipe her brain. 

Aside from that, most of the vampires that mill around Vegas aren’t as cultured as Harry’s friends. They lack restraint, a conscience, and fear of consequences, given that the city’s crazy reputation provides the perfect cover for all those dangerous behaviors. That makes them deadly predators to someone as trusting and unsuspecting as Y/N, and having to continuously protect her would be too much of a hassle. It’s supposed to be a vacation; the last thing he needs is for it to turn into an episode of Shark Week. It’s best to stay put.

Harry shakes his head after a minute, clearing his throat. “But I think I’m good. Bringing along a human isn’t worth all the trouble she might cause. Thank you, though.” 

Mitch bobs his head in understanding, well aware of the problems Harry is alluding to. “You have a point.” He pauses for a second in thought, shaking his head at the idea of having to deal with the insanity that surrounds their Vegas siblings. “I guess I’ll just see you next week, then, yeah? Better get going.”

The younger vampire mirrors his nod, opening his arms for a hug, which Mitch gladly takes. He’s not one for affection, that much is clear, but he makes certain exceptions here and there, and of course his friends file under that category. And every now and then, Y/N does too. 

“See you next week.” He pulls away from the embrace with a hard pat to Mitch’s shoulder, smiling softly. “Send tons of pictures, okay? And videos of Niall getting shitfaced. I need new blackmail content.” 

“Will do.” Mitch squeezes his best friend’s shoulders tightly, beaming at him in return. He then cranes towards his two fellow guests, whistling to gain their attention from the passionate conversation they seem to be having about Harry’s robe. “Time to head out, Bonnie and Clyde.”

“Who’s who?” Niall questions childishly, raising an eyebrow. “Because I think I should be Clyde. Xander has Bonnie vibes.” 

“No I don’t!” 

“Yes, you do.” The Irish boy reasons, cocking his head knowingly. “You seem like the type who would cheat on a murderer with another criminal from the same jail. You’ve got a knack for drama, like most women.” 

Xander crosses his arms stubbornly. “No, I don’t.”

“You do, actually.” Harry butts in, eyes twinkling slyly as the group starts to wander towards the exit. He decides to get revenge for the teasing from earlier. “You moan just like one, too.”

Xander blushes bright red, diving into the shadow of the corridor to avoid any more ridicule. “I’m leaving.” 

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!” 

The other vampires laugh as they follow behind Harry’s ex-fling, waving their final goodbyes. As soon as the front door echoes shut, the immortal turns on his heel and heads back towards the glass stairs, beginning to undo the silk ribbon knotted around his hips. 

He’s got his own partner in crime to attend to. 

///

That night, Y/N and Harry end up bidding each other farewell in the corridor of his condo. 

That seems to be a common theme in their relationship, he’s come to find. It’s usually the entrance to her own apartment instead of his, but the motif is there, nonetheless: They always end up meeting in a hallway, every single time. 

“Thanks for having me over.” Y/N murmurs in her signature gentle dialect, smiling delicately as she skids the toe of her sneaker against the ground of the carpet outside his door, trying to keep the butterflies in her tummy tame. It was an incredible two days— maybe the best weekend she’s ever had, if she’s being honest. “I had a lot of fun.” 

Harry leans his bare shoulder against his threshold, clad in nothing but a pair of royal blue boxers and black ankle socks, freely showing off the collection of love bites and scratches Y/N had so kindly finished gifting him a few hours ago. She’d gone wild the second he’d unlocked the metal cuffs and he’s more than happy with the results.

The stains speckle his broad chest and the expanse of his taut neck, dark and obvious beneath the complex’s buttery lighting. Bruises trace down his stomach and across his ribs, a neat row of four hickies centered vertically between his two fern inkings. They disappear suggestively under the elastic band of his underwear and she can feel flashes of heat layer across her cheeks, her mind recalling all the filthy sounds he’d made when she had created them.

The human peels away from the artwork that is Harry’s marked torso, glancing around nervously at the fact that some stranger might see the fruit of their actions. The vampire’s lips twitch at her concern; it baffles him how she can be such a devil in between the sheets, but such a shy, reserved angel in every other aspect. It’s cute. 

Harry reaches forward and takes her warm fingers into his larger hand, thumbing over her knuckles appreciatively as his irises glitter smugly amidst his lashes, a smirk stringing his pillowy mouth. “We always have a lot of fun.” 

Y/N squeezes his palm playfully, gnawing into her cheek and humming in agreement. “That, we do.”

A moment of comfortable silence suspends the air between them, the only sound being the faint footsteps of people on the levels above and below, alongside the light skidding of the elevator as it delivers patrons to their destinations. Harry is the first to speak up again. 

“What was your favorite part?” 

Y/N blinks up at him blankly, slightly startled at the random question, but moreso at being put on the spot. 

“Oh, uh…” She laughs shakily, struggling to recall everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours. There had been so much bare skin and desperate tongues involved, she can hardly pick through her memories without her ears prickling. “I think...I think the shower was my favorite. It was nice and relaxing. Helped me unwind.” 

Harry nods in recognition, turning through the pages in his mind and skimming through the instance she’s referring. “It was pretty nice, yeah. You look good in a soap beard.” 

Y/N scoffs at his joking compliment. “Thanks. I’ll grow it out more often. Just for you.” 

The young man reaches up and grips over his chest in fake passion, face contorted into a wistful expression. “That’s all I ask.” 

The pair break into childish giggles and the sensation of Harry rubbing across the top of her hand is starting to make her head fuzzy. “What about yours? What was your favorite?”

Harry mulls over his own topic for a few seconds, lips puckering in thought as his eyes narrow pensively. The comically adorable picture makes Y/N’s heart skip. 

“I think…” Harry lists his gaze downwards back onto his patiently-awaiting friend, lips spreading into his patented dazzling smile. “I think it was probably the Hamilton reenactment.” 

Y/N brows jump, mood slightly unconvinced. “Really?” 

The vampire nods confidently, his own eyebrows inching upwards, voice amused. “Why is that so hard to believe?”   

Y/N shrugs offhandedly, glimpsing down at where the ridges of his thumb are delivering soothing shots of bliss into her veins. “You’re just so...y’know...you… so I guess I just expected you’d have a preference for the more…” She chooses her next words carefully, not wanting to be so brazen with the risk of someone overhearing, “...intimate parts of the weekend.”

“Wow, okay. Just call me a whore to my face, then. That’s fine.” 

Y/N throws her free hand upwards in a fist, slugging Harry on the shoulder with appalled shock overtaking her features. His boyish chuckles echo off the walls of the building as she whips her head around to make sure no one had witnessed his dirty bluntness. “You know what I mean!” 

“Yeah.” He purposefully raises his voice, nearly shouting the following sentence just to get on her nerves. “You’re slut-shaming me!” 

Y/N surges forward, trying to clamp her hand over his mouth and save herself the embarrassment. “Harry, shut up!”

He easily fights her off, his supernatural strength beating hers tenfold. She ends up wrapped in his embrace, flushed against his hard chest as he sticks his tongue out at her mockingly. He drops his tone back down to normal, his two front teeth digging into his lower lip to keep more laughter from bubbling over. “That’s not nice. You should stop conforming to society’s outdated ‘sex is taboo’ narrative.”

“I wasn’t—” Y/N starts insistently, but then she realizes she’s become almost as loud as him so she forces her voice to taper into an alarmed hiss instead. “I wasn’t slut-shaming you! I was simply expressing—”

“You just see me as a toy, don’t you?” The creature cuts her off, lips dipping downwards into a glorified frown. He proceeds to bat his lashes and sniffle, packing as many theatrics as possible into his mopey act. “I have feelings, y’know? My big dick and cunnilingus skills aren’t my only redeeming qualities! You should be ashamed of yourself for objectifying me like that.”

Y/N presses her lips together to ward off an immature grin, rattling her head to get herself under control. She gives him a stern look, warning him to cut it out. “Stop being a child.” 

“Stop using me for sex and making derogatory assumptions about my promiscuity.”  

“Oh, hop of it! You use me right back. It’s mutual.”

“Which is why the slut-shaming is such a paradox.” 

“For fuck’s sake, I wasn’t fucking— You know what? You can’t even pin me on the objectification part because you do it to me all the time!” 

“Oh, is that so?” Harry prods with a humorous tilt of his head, squeezing at her love handles and swimming in the way she wriggles around. “Elaborate.” 

“When you slapped my ass in the shower. Or when you put your hand under my shirt to play with my chest while we watch TV.” Y/N debates, poking at the thorax of his butterfly tattoo. “Very objectifying, if you ask me.”

“Mm, not quite, darling.” The vampire shakes his head and draws her closer, ducking down to flirt the tip of his nose along the slope of hers. “There’s a difference.”

“Oh, yeah?” She digs her nails into his pectorals, discreetly savoring the strong muscles. “What is it?”

Harry glimpses down at where she’s carving indents into his flesh, enjoying the minute pain more than he should. He drifts his mouth closer towards her ear, inhaling the scent of his shampoo wafting from her silky strands of hair. “The difference is that you’re usually begging me to do all those things.”

Y/N’s teeth grind in begrudging defeat, her spine giving a surrendered shiver at his crude point. “Whatever.” 

Harry releases her body, haughty victory written all over his posture. “I rest my case.” 

Y/N’s pride blazes, a threat falling from her tongue sharply, but it holds no true intentions. “Maybe I should just stop asking you to, then.”

“You won’t.” The boy sighs airily, tapping his bare foot against the ground without a care in the world. “You like me too much.” 

“Even if I like you, I’d have enough dignity to stop seeing you if I wanted.” Y/N huffs, making a face at him to emphasize her stance. “It’s this little thing called ‘willpower.’”

“Yeah, well, we both know you and your willpower are gonna end up texting my number Friday night, asking me to come over for some more interior design advice.” Harry snarkily dismisses, presenting a scenario where he’s holding an invisible phone in his hands, pretending to tap out a message. His voice comes out high-pitched, mimicking her own. “Hey, one of the rungs on my headboard came loose. Can you come help me fix it?”

Y/N stares at him with eyes half-lidded in pettiness. “I don’t sound like that.”

“You’re right. You’re a tad more nasally.” 

“Asshole.” 

“I’m just calling it like I see it, love.”

Y/N socks him on the shoulder again as retribution, though it barely has an impact. 

After a couple heartbeats full of vengeful silence, Y/N chimes up with a jesting tone, though the manner in which she’s picking at her nails tells Harry she’s slightly anxious. “Hypothetically speaking, if I were to send out a text inviting you to come over Friday...would you?”

A lopsided simper pops the immortal’s dimples awake. He shifts on his feet, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. “Hypothetically speaking, I think I could very well make it.” 

Y/N chews on her lower lip as the apples of her cheeks jolt. “Ok, well...Let’s say— once again, hypothetically— that I should be home by eight that day. Would that work for you?” 

Harry cocks his head from side to side as if churning the offer around his mind. “I think that, hypothetically, that fits right into my schedule.”

The human’s belly flops in giddy excitement. “Great. It’s booked, then. Hypothetically speaking, of course.” 

“Of course.” Harry agrees, the reply accompanied by a teasing furrow of his sculpted brows and a curt nod. 

Y/N clasps her hands in front of her thighs with finality, giving him a bright smile. “Alright, then. I’ll see you next week.”

“Next week.” Harry confirms with a cheeky wink, running his tongue along his top teeth to keep from bursting into giggles. “Hypothetically.” 

“Hypothetically.” Y/N states with a slight bow of her head, tucking one hand into the back pocket of her dark jeans as she takes a step back from the front door with a small wave. She turns on her heel to face the elevator at the other end of the hall, her foot lifting to take the first step towards the exit. 

“Wait.” 

The mortal looks back towards her friend, eyebrows poised in question. 

Harry scratches at the nape of his neck, smiling softly. “I could really go for a goodbye kiss. Not-so-hypothetically.” 

Y/N blinks at him in wonder. He’s never asked for one before. 

The awkward aura that quickly fills the space between them becomes suffocating. He considers the option of telling her he was just joking to spare himself the humiliation, but he doesn’t get the chance. Y/N lurches forward, teetering onto the tips of her toes and buttoning her lips to his. The spontaneous action makes him swallow his words. 

He fumbles to cup her jaw, kissing her back with just as much fervor and feeling the coldness of his skin fizzle away under her inherent warmth. The gesture isn’t sexual or desperate, but simply sweet and fulfilling. He enjoys it, though it’s not surprising given that he enjoys her lips touching him in any and every way imaginable. He’s not exactly sure why he’d made this particular request— it’s very out of character for him, in every sense of the phrase— but he deduces it’s likely because he wants one more thing to cling onto until he gets to feel her mouth again. It’s not uncommon to want a little something extra to get through the tougher nights, so it’s truly not that big of an occurrence. It’s only reasonable.  

Y/N breaks their exchange, eyes glassy and so beautifully clear as she pecks his chin one last time in a polite farewell. “Text me if you need me...And especially if you need me.”

Harry gulps thickly at the suggestive statement, nodding numbly as her body heat slips away. “Will do. Thanks. And thanks for the kiss. Needed it to tide me over until Friday.” 

“My pleasure. See you later, Holmes.” 

Harry waits patiently until Y/N’s figure disappears behind the gilded doors of the fancy elevator, watching the closed slates of metal glint coldly under the blurry lighting of the condominium’s corridor. He walks back into his apartment, shutting the door gently and slouching into the plush cushions of his leather sofa with a detached sigh. He gazes up at his extravagant chandeliers, once again left in the empty solitude he’d grown so fond of in his extensive lifetime. There’s not a single sound or motion invading his seclusion, not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his rug, and everything is so still and quiet, it’s almost deafening. But despite every aspect being as it should, he can’t shake the sensation that something is off. Something is wrong. Something’s missing.

And for the first time in years, he finds himself feeling more lonely than alone. 

///

It only takes Harry about an hour of uneventful isolation to realize he’s made a grave mistake. 

He should have gone on the trip. 

Despite the fact that the vampire lives alone, he very rarely spends any time without seeing his friends. Since they all reside in the same building, it’s fairly easy for him to find some entertainment whenever boredom strikes. He’ll either go up a floor to Mitch’s place to watch a movie or mess around with his collection of vintage guitars, or he’ll go a level below to visit Adam and talk about any new art exhibits opening up around the area. He could visit Niall three floors above to play some FIFA on his gaming console and share porn recommendations, or even take the elevator to the twelfth floor to bother Xander and talk some shit while they do each other’s nails. And if Harry’s feeling extra needy for attention, he could always just invite them all over to his place so the group could go out for some Thai food at the restaurant down the street, or go see a movie at the cinema, or take a ride to their favorite local bar. 

No matter the circumstances, his friends are always readily available for him when he needs them, so he very solemnly spends his days alone. That is, until now. 

The entire crew had left for the Vegas trip and— as a result of his own irresponsibility and immature hormones— had left him all by himself for the next seven days. He would never admit it aloud to spare himself the ridicule of being overly sappy, but he misses the group. He misses Mitch’s soft voice and quiet wittiness, and he misses Adam’s cheeky banter and random fun facts, and he misses Niall’s inappropriate jokes and boisterous laughter, and he even misses Xander’s annoying digs and childish pettiness. He didn’t know how much he took it all for granted until it was gone.

For the rest of the week, Harry is practically miserable. The guys don’t text him much, which can be expected since the whole point of the holiday is to enjoy every second of it; there would be no point in traveling four hours just to sit in their hotel and message him. He talks to Y/N a bit, but she is also occupied most of the time with work, given that she had to take on a few extra shifts on behalf of her co-workers. The earliest she goes in is six A.M., the latest she comes out is nine P.M., and by then, Harry reckons she’s probably falling asleep in the entrance corridor of her home. He understands her exhaustion and therefore doesn’t expect her to humor him; it wouldn’t be fair. 

With everyone in his life busy and with his flat feeling colder and emptier than ever, it’s a miracle he doesn’t go mad within its walls. He goes out a handful of times to do some grocery shopping, for a run around a nearby park, and to take a walk along his favorite mall, but that’s it, really. He doesn’t go out to eat simply because he thinks it would be embarrassing having to sit alone at a restaurant; it’s pitiful and sad and he’s not going to subject himself to that. The most stimulating social interaction he has that week is a tie between a bit of flirting with a Target cashier, some suggestive gazing exchanged with a Starbucks barista, and a couple of cheeky caresses from a Gucci store employee taken while measuring his waist for a custom order. None of it satisfies him the way it normally does, though, and he can’t place why. 

By the time Friday evening rolls around, Harry is a hair short from letting his regular case of stir-crazy slip into a full-on psychotic break. That’s why he ends up at Y/N’s complex earlier than the agreed-upon hour, stepping out of his Cadillac with twenty minutes left to spare and with a certain desperation eating away at the back of his skull.

The creature casually jogs up the worn steps to her floor, the only sound being the heels of his maroon velvet boots clicking against the cement ground. He whistles softly to the vague tune of a new pop song that had been playing on the radio— Wet Ass something?— as he tucks his phone into his pocket and brushes a few traces of lint off his freshly-ironed button-up. 

His outfit for tonight is nothing too spectacular, but it isn’t too lazy, either. It’s a long-sleeve black silk shirt with glass buttons and a pair of large swallows embroidered along either sides of his chest, the threads dyed royal and pastel blue, cherry red, and creamy yellow. The top is cuffed up his elbows and unbuttoned down to his butterfly tattoo, showing off his naturally tanned skin and matching swallow inkings, the cross on his delicate chain centered between his pecs and twinkling under the flickering lights. He’d coupled the loose blouse with some black skinny jeans, a dark leather belt, a small golden hoop earring, and his trusty collection of rings and necklaces. In his opinion, it’s a proper look for a planned-out booty call. Formal, but easy to rip off. Especially in a blind hurry. 

Harry figures that he’ll check to see if Y/N is home, just to cover the bases. If she isn’t, he’ll tred back down the stairs and wait for her in his car. If she is, then that’s all the better; there’s no damage in starting a bit earlier than scheduled. It makes for a better recoup period between rounds. 

The immortal turns the corner into the familiar hallway where Y/N’s flat is located, one of his hands already forming into a loose fist with the intention of knocking on her door. He makes it about five paces before he’s slapped with an image that causes him to stop cold in his tracks, his whistling coming to an abrupt halt. 

Harry blinks repeatedly and lowers the frame of his pink Gucci sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, wanting to make sure the scene before him isn’t a figment of his imagination. Much to his displeasure, it isn’t. 

About three meters ahead, situated right in front of her door with her back facing towards him, is Y/N. That isn’t the odd aspect of the picture, though. What’s odd is that her usual grimy work attire is missing, which he had expected to see given that he knows she always goes to the cafe on Fridays. Instead, she is clad in the pastel blue floral sundress she had worn for him all those weeks back, when they had slept together for the second time. And instead of wearing her scuffed up Vans, she is wearing a pair of pretty tan sandals. And instead of having her hair up in a frizzy ponytail, it’s down and fanned around her shoulders in a glossy sheen of tousled curls. And she’s wearing perfume— the same one she had worn the night they met. He can smell it from here and it makes his brows furrow in confusion. She never wears perfume to work; she says it’s forbidden since it can make customers nauseous. 

But aside from all of those unorthodox details, there is one specific factor above all that throws Harry for the biggest loop he’s encountered in the last five weeks of knowing her. 

Y/N isn’t alone. She’s accompanied by another man. 

Harry gives the stranger a calculating once-over, taking in every aspect of the boy’s appearance. He has to keep himself from sputtering into laughter. This has to be some type of fucking joke. 

The bloke is fit, he’ll give him that, at least. He’s handsome and somewhat muscular, but in a manner that is painfully cliche and utterly boring. He has sandy blonde hair that falls across his forehead in a shaggy sideways bang, eyes the color of a Malibu beach, and generally soft features with the exception of decent cheekbones. He’s wearing a dull orange polo, khaki pants, Levi sneakers, and an annoyingly giant watch on his wrist that gives the impression he’s trying to show off. Harry nearly vomits in his mouth. 

Who the fuck would wear a polo willingly? And how brain dead does he have to be to think khakis are still in style? His fashion sense is obviously stunted. It appears his brain is stuck in his middle school phase, when the Justin Bieber haircut and douchey brands were all the rave amongst snotty pre-teens. Also, his watch is an embarrassment. Harry doesn’t know what the guy is attempting— and failing— to show off, considering the accessory is chunky and ugly and not even Versace or Rolex. It’s a disgrace. 

As if the forced posh demeanor isn’t enough, the imbecile actually has the guts to have a fake tan. The vampire isn’t surprised, unfortunately, given that eighty percent of all Los Angeles residents think it’s acceptable to dip-dye themselves into a carrot. He faintly wonders if the man’s balls are colored, as well, or if his ass and sack are as pale as his personality probably is. That would be quite the comedic sight either way. Creamsicles for the win, he supposes. 

Harry may not be alarmed by the blonde boy’s get-up, but he is disgusted. Thoroughly disgusted. Horrifically disgusted. What is Y/N doing with this moron? 

According to what he’s gathered from her personality and the pillow talks they often share, she hates the California stereotype almost as much as he does, if not more. She hates the fake tans and bleached hair and lack of conscience. She hates the outdated teenage brands, cringey jewelry, and fraternity member aesthetic. She especially hates the fact that some of these people don’t understand the basic principles of boundaries. And the thing is, this dude-bro of a man definitely ticks all of those boxes— especially with how close he’s standing next to her, looming above her frame with one arm extended against the surface of her door, trying to look nonchalant and cool as he drawls on about whatever topic they’re discussing. 

He’s practically the poster child for everything the girl despises, from the straightened hair to the alter boy church pants to the stupid forest tattoo on his forearm. So what in the flying fuck is she doing entertaining him? What is she doing standing outside her apartment with this trashy, bacon strip-looking, youth leader knock-off, 2012 Bieber impersonator of a human? 

It has to be a joke. It just has to. There’s no other valid explanation, except maybe a plea of insanity. 

Harry doesn’t realize he’s scowling until the stranger makes eye contact with him. The boy’s face breaks into an expression of unsettled discomfort at the way the vampire is peering at him over his sunglasses, allowing his end of the conversation to falter to dust. Y/N’s brows cinch at the occurrence, her attention peeling away to follow where her date’s had wandered. 

The second her gaze locks with Harry’s intense own, she feels her heart drop to her stomach. Fuck.

Let it be known Y/N didn’t want this. She didn’t want to go on a date with Jacob. In fact, she didn’t know who Jacob was until halfway through this week and she honestly wishes it had stayed that way. She wishes she hadn’t picked up Melissa’s shift with Isabel, she wishes she hadn’t offered to wait that extra table in the back out of the kindness in her heart, and she wishes she hadn’t caught the attention of the customer inhabiting it. 

As it turns out, the young man was Isabel’s cousin. He had come to pick her up since the girl’s car had been stuck at the shop for the last few days, and he had arrived a bit earlier than intended, deciding to sit at the back table to wait out the final ten minutes of his relative’s shift. Y/N had simply assumed that he was a regular customer, so she had gone to give him the usual trained introduction in order to follow the golden rule of customer service: Don’t keep a guest waiting. 

Jacob had explained the situation to Y/N, to which she responded with a light laugh and an instinctive apology. She had told him she’d go fetch Isabel for him and bid the boy goodbye. In her rational opinion, she had thought that would be it— a simple crossing of two paths that would likely never cross again— but evidently, the visitor had a very different idea. 

The human’s shift had continued as planned and everything had been going great until Isabel ducked into the kitchen right before leaving, dancing her way across the room and poking her coworker playfully in the tummy.  Apparently, from what Isabel had giddily told her, Jacob had taken an interest in Y/N. It was a bit ridiculous, if you asked her, considering they’d only talked for a total of about thirty seconds before parting routes. But Y/N hadn’t voiced that opinion; she didn’t want to come off as rude. 

Jacob had asked his cousin to set them up on a date and that is why Isabel had gone into the back before leaving. Y/N’s immediate impulse had been to decline. She wasn’t interested in seeing anyone at the moment. Other than Harry, of course. He handled all her needs just fine and they got on so well, she’d be crazy to replace him with some random guy she barely knew. She had gone to express this to Isabel in a gentler manner with an apologetic tone, but the words had ended up lodging in her throat. The girl had stared at Y/N with so much excitement, she’d immediately felt a wave of guilt erupt into her chest. 

She found it difficult to refuse, given that turning down the offer might come off as bitchy and insensitive. Here Isabel was, trying to innocently play match-maker on behalf of someone she cared about, buzzing with glee and smiling at her so big, her cheeks probably hurt. The last thing Y/N wanted was to upset her by basically telling her that Jacob wasn’t up to par with her standards. Rejecting him could be something her acquaintance took personally and Y/N didn’t want to have to deal with drama in the workplace, especially not with someone whose shifts often mirror her own. 

Y/N had reluctantly agreed to the invitation, her only request being that she had to be home by seven thirty. That would give her enough time to prepare for Harry’s visit. 

Her compliance had landed her where she is now, standing in front of her apartment door with a boy she has no interest in. 

It had been a terrible date, though Jacob took no notice of that. He spent the entire dinner talking about himself, going on and on about his college years, and about how he works at a popular surf shop and could probably get her discounted lessons, and about how he doesn’t think he could survive without his Jeep. How he plays guitar and wants to be a famous actor, how he doesn’t understand why people dislike fake tanning, and how his dad owns a country club in South Carolina. How he loves sports, how he thinks museums are dumb, and how he likes girls who are willing to cook for him after they hookup. How he loves going clubbing and that he misses his ex. 

Y/N had nearly groaned out loud at the last two.

It was cruel and unusual torture, in all honestly, and Y/N is just glad it’s over. She’d fulfilled her role— she’d even been nice enough to dress up, to at least finge interest— and could now go free, never having to hear another word about surfboard wax or college football ever again. If only he’d fucking leave.

Jacob had insisted on walking her to the door, which would be sweet if she hadn’t developed a burning hatred for him in the last hour. It came off as annoying and pushy instead, but she allowed it on the grounds of maintaining a polite front. 

She shouldn’t have allowed it. As soon as they’d gotten to her door, he’d started talking all over again and Y/N had no choice but to stand there and listen. She couldn’t go anywhere, given that this is her place and she’s expecting someone. She figured she’d give him until seven fifty and then make up an excuse about having to go to the bathroom in order to get him to piss off. That plan had crumbled when Harry had shown up twenty minutes early. 

The look of inflamed shock that poses Harry’s handsome features makes her stomach curdle. 

She hadn’t meant for him to see this. She’d only gone on the date to spare herself some petty trouble with a coworker. Nothing was bound to come of it, other than a free meal and a guilt-free conscience. It didn’t mean anything and she had no intention of letting it get in between what she and Harry have going. But from an outside perspective, she knows it looks much different. 

The agreement they have isn’t exclusive by any means, but over the last five weeks, the pair have grown pretty comfortable with one another and had given connotations that they weren’t kindling other possible relationships. There’s a type of silent agreement between them that if they were to seek out other people, they would share that information with each other on the grounds of courtesy, friendship, and respect. But Y/N hadn’t said a word to spare him the baseless stress and now he’d run into her smack in the middle of what appears to be a very compromising situation; things aren’t looking good at all. It looks like she’s losing interest in Harry and couldn’t be bothered to tell him. It looks like she’s out for a replacement. It looks like she doesn’t care about their connection at all. 

This is bad. This is really bad.

Y/N’s voice comes out as a shrill shriek of surprise, her body turning abruptly to fully face his rigid own. “Harry! Uh— hi!” 

Harry blinks at her emptily for a moment and she can practically see the gears turning in his head. She can’t read his mind or his expression, but she reckons he’s probably trying to decide if he should follow through on their rendezvous or if he should just leave and never talk to her again. The idea of him choosing the latter makes her mouth go sour. 

The vampire’s emerald irises flit back and forth between his friend and the unknown man behind her, trying to interpret the tone and texture of the circumstance. She’s obviously on a date, if her appearance is any indication, and it’s obviously coming to a close right now, exactly when he’s scheduled to arrive. 

That’s the determining factor that helps him decide his next move. 

Y/N had invited Harry over last Sunday, meaning that she had made their commitment first. This date had to have come into play later in the week, and she had purposefully planned it around their agreed hour in order to give him her undivided attention when the time came. If she had gone out with this guy and then rushed back home to get to him, that must mean she doesn’t plan on indulging another meeting with the stranger. She hadn’t cancelled his visit, either, so that also suggests she isn’t truly interested in this bloke. That makes sense...right?

But that still begs the question: Why had she gone out with him in the first place?

He knows he isn’t owed an explanation, but he also knows that Y/N isn’t the type of person who would just blindside him like this. She isn’t soulless— she’s sweet and caring and generous, so she would never drop him without any warning or consideration for his feelings. She’d never abandon him without telling him why. She’d never do anything that might run a chance of hurting him. 

The immortal is more than aware he doesn’t have the right to be upset about it, either. Their arrangement is loose and open on both ends and he likes it that way. He likes that their relationship isn’t weighed down by commitment and monogamy; it gives him a sense of freedom and independence he’s known to thrive off of. It lets him be himself without playing her emotions, and without causing a ruckus in the plans she has for her new life. And he gets the same in return— he gets to have his needs attended without sacrificing his core beliefs. Their friends with benefits trope rides along the wings of an official bond, only giving them what they want and nothing they don’t, which is how it was meant to be. How it should be.

So why does seeing her with someone else make him feel sick to his stomach?

Harry shakes off the ball of contempt writhing in his chest, clearing the tightness from his throat and molding his expression into a facade of calm indifference. Jealousy is for idiots. 

The vampire fully wraps his perched fingers around the rim of his sunglasses, removing them from the arch of his nose and tucking the shades along the collar of his shirt. He forces his feet to do their job, his lanky legs lurching forward and falling into a casual stride as he walks towards the two humans awaiting a response. 

Harry comes to a stop beside the mortals, clasping his bejeweled hands behind his back and plastering a dazzling grin across his cheeks. He regards his friend with a slight bow of his head, voice airy and carefree as ever. “Hey, Y/N.”

She almost faints in relief. Thank God he’s not mad. 

Y/N returns his smile, shoulders visibly relaxing. “It’s nice to see you.”

“S’nice to see you, too. Always such a…” He pauses, licking at the corner of his lips suggestively, giving her a knowing once-over that only she can interpret, “pleasure.”

The girl ignores the heat that immediately floods her cheeks. Of course he’s doing this in front of Jacob. Of course he’s peacocking. “Likewise.” 

Harry trains his attention onto the young man before him, pursing his lips into a polite smile. As polite as he can muster, anyways. “And who’s this?” 

Y/N blinks herself back into the present, quickly glancing away from Harry’s sharp jaw, though it doesn’t go unnoticed. He feels his ego swell a smidge.  

“This is Jacob.” The human comments easily, signaling to him with an upturned palm. “He’s Isabel’s cousin. You remember Isabel, right? You met her at the club.” 

“I don’t think I do, actually.” Harry murmurs, glimpsing up towards the ceiling to suggest he’s wracking his thoughts. He has a very vague recollection of the two girls he’d momentarily encountered the day he’d first met Y/N, but it’s hazy and unimportant. 

He looks back down at her with sparkling irises, rosy lips twitching with amusement at his next words, knowing they’re going to have a favorable impact. “I guess I was just too distracted by you to pay much attention to anyone else.”  

He can hear more blood rush into her face and the ecstasy it brings him is immeasurable. He cranes his sight back onto Jacob, who has the slightest crease in his brows at Harry’s compliment. Good. That’s exactly what he wanted. 

The monster unclamps his hands and juts one out stiffly towards the mortal. “M’Harry. Good to meet you, mate.” 

Jacob returns the gesture, grasping Harry’s hand firmly in a way the vampire knows is to try and establish dominance. It tickles him when humans try to be tough, especially because Harry could tear his arm right out of its socket as easily as he could lift a sheet of paper. The creature tightens his grip to match the man’s, purposefully putting a tad more strength in to make a silent point. He has to withhold the urge to crunch the boy’s fingers to dust. 

They both release from the exchange and a wave of dark satisfaction trickles into Harry’s bones when he sees Jacob curl and stretch his digits in mild pain. 

Y/N watches the whole scene with a breath trapped in her lungs. This feels surreal.

The blonde clears his throat softly, mouth jilting into an empty smile and it’s obvious he’s only doing it just to keep things civil. “Good to meet you, too. I take it you’re British?” 

“Pure-bred.” Harry remarks proudly, shrugging his shoulders offhandedly as if it’s no big deal. His gaze slinks towards Y/N for a second, tongue pushing along the inside of his cheek smugly. “It works wonders with the ladies.”

A flicker of spite stains the blue in Jacob’s eyes and the vampire feels like his soul is ascending. This is fun. 

“I can only imagine.” His opponent responds, voice somewhat strained as he directs his next question to the two friends. “So how do you know each other?” 

Harry opens his mouth to make an arrogant comment along the lines of, “A club. A few drinks. Some amazing sex. Y’know, the usual.” but Y/N knows him well enough that she anticipates it, speaking over him loudly before he can even get a syllable out.

“We met at a club and hit it off really well. Been friends ever since.” 

The immortal has to keep himself from adding something snarky to the end of her summary. He only does it because he can see a sharp warning flash across Y/N’s eyes. It’s wordless, but stern nonetheless: Don’t.

Harry swallows down his dig and feels it burn a hole in his stomach. Why is she protecting his feelings?

In all honesty, Y/N is only doing it out of kindness and nothing else. As annoying as Jacob may be, he doesn’t deserve to be embarrassed simply because Harry wants to feed his pride. It may be funny, but it’s pretty immature.

“Right.” Harry sighs happily, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Friends. Good friends. Close friends. Intimate friends.” 

Y/N presses her lips into a straight line to keep herself in check. He’s trying to work her over and, unfortunately, he’s succeeding.  

“That’s nice.” Jacob nods casually, the innuendo luckily going right over his head. 

“Yeah, it is.” Harry states, eyes glinting mischievously as he quickly studies the man once again. He can’t help himself, he truly can’t. Not when this terribly-styled buffoon makes it so fucking easy. “I like your tan, by the way.” 

The human looks down at his arms for significance, eyes brightening. “Thank you! I got it done at that new place in—”

“Yeah, it’s pretty neat. Looks almost real.” 

Jacob blinks blankly at the backhanded compliment. “Oh—?” 

“I mean, it’s got a few streaks here and there and your left arm looks a little more orange, but I think—”

“Anyways!” Y/N swiftly cuts in, interrupting her friend’s judgmental spiel and directing her attention towards her date. “Harry and I were actually planning on going to see a movie, which is why I had to be home by seven-thirty— we do it every Friday. And the movie starts at eight and traffic’s a bitch, so that’s why I was in such a hurry to get home.” 

Jacob nods slowly, giving her a sweet, understanding smile that makes Harry’s supernatural blood boil. “I see. Well, I—”

The vampire interrupts him once again, condescension flaring in his chest and dancing across the specks of amber surrounding his pupils. “Yeah, Y/N and I go to the theater every Friday. Recently, we’ve been going to the movies every single day of the weekend. And most times, we see several movies a night.” 

Y/N’s jaw clenches at Harry’s barely-veiled insinuation. She tries to talk over him, but he beats her to the punch. 

“Y’know what I’m talking about, right, Y/N?” He nudges her side playfully with his elbow, ignoring the way her eyes tell him to cut it out. “Remember that time we saw three movies in one night? Or the one that had the jacuzzi in it?”

The girl glimpses over at Jacob, who looks utterly confused and uncomfortable. “Harry—”

“Or what about that crime film, yeah? The one with the handcuffs.” He pinches at her love handle teasingly, reveling in how her entire torso tenses under his touch. “The one where they grabbed the criminal and slammed them up against the mirror? You have to remember that one. It’s hard to forget.” 

“Okay, I think that’s enough talk about—” 

“Oh, c’mon, dove.” Harry slings an arm around her shoulders nonchalantly, squeezing her into his body and feeling Jacob’s glare pierce the side of his face. He stares intently into Y/N’s irises, dimples winking awake at the needy desperation gradually inking its way into their reflection. His tone comes out soft but heavy with authoritative suggestion— the kind he always uses in bed. “Tell me you remember.” 

Y/N gulps quietly, mumbling her words begrudgingly. “Yeah, I...I remember.” 

A coy hum runs along the back of the vampire’s throat as he licks across his top teeth slyly. “I think that was your favorite one, wasn’t it? You seemed to have really enjoyed it. Like, properly enjoyed it. Loved every single second, if I recall correctly.” 

The human forces herself to cast her intent elsewhere, ears simmering and breathing stuttering ever so slightly. Her sight lands back onto a very frazzled Jacob, who is looking at the pair as if they’d sprouted horns, shifting unsurely across his feet. The expression of innocent befuddlement on his face makes guilt twist into her heart.   

The mortal roughly shrugs off Harry’s arm, stepping forward and placing a palm on Jacob’s wrist, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you so much for the date. It was...nice.” 

Harry’s fists clench at his sides, though the action goes unnoticed. 

The human boy nods giddily at Y/N, glancing down to where she’s touching him so tenderly. “‘Course! I had a great time, too.” 

“Make sure to tell Isabel that. Maybe it’ll get her to do some sweeping on my behalf.” The girl jokes, giggling softly right along with the stranger. 

Harry can feel his nails threatening to break into his skin. 

“We really have to get going, though, so I guess I’ll see you around?” Y/N prods, gifting her date one last beautiful smile to ease the awkwardness that had settled into the atmosphere, courtesy of Harry’s antics. 

“Sure!” Jacob bobs his head in agreement, pulling out his phone and swaying it symbolically. “You have my number, just text me whenever.” 

“Sounds good.”

Once the young man’s footsteps have faded down the complex’s staircase, Y/N swivels around on her heel to face Harry, arms falling across her chest in an irritated fashion. Her face pinches with annoyance as he leans casually against her door, his own arms folding over his strong chest with his fingers tapping along the inside of his elbows, attitude depicting not a single care in the world. 

He crosses his ankles easily, brows quirking at the way she’s blatantly glaring at him. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that people whose names start with a letter ‘J’ are bound to ruin your life?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Harry!” Y/N snaps, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling as her glossed lips dip into an aggravated grimace. “Are you serious right now?”

He tilts his head curiously, stifling a simper. “What’s wrong, love?”

“What’s wrong?” She retorts with a humorless laugh, astonished at his ability to act so purposefully dense. “You’re a fucking dick, that’s what’s wrong.”

The vampire sputters into a round of boyish cackling, his entire body shaking against the surface below him as his eyes crinkle shut in mirth. Y/N would be further infuriated if it wasn’t so damn cute. 

Harry’s laughter slowly dies down and once he has himself composed, his shoulders rise and fall once dismissively. “I was just fucking around. I didn’t think much of it.” 

“You didn’t think—?” Y/N chokes out in indignation, stomping over to him and poking him straight in the chest, right over his butterfly tattoo. Her perfume makes his mind swim in the best way imaginable. “You didn’t think for a second, in that big head of yours, that talking about our sex life in front of my date was overstepping?” 

Hearing Y/N officially refer to Jacob as her date makes Harry’s mood drop somberly. He tries to push it down and keep up a comical edge, but it’s harder than he’d care to admit. His accent comes out small and almost fragile, much to her surprise. “Well, I didn’t know you were on a date. Maybe if you had told me, I wouldn’t have come.” 

His words sting for some unknown reason. 

The mortal draws closer to him until he’s hovering above her, arms dropping down to her sides to fiddle with the hem of her dress as she tilts her chin upwards to get a better look at his stoney face. All anger melts right out of her voice, replaced by her usual delicate cadence. “Well, I...I didn’t think you’d care, really.” 

“I don’t.” He replies a little too quickly, a small pang of regret pricking his chest when her face immediately falls. “I mean...I mean it as in, like...I’m not keeping tabs on you or anything. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to limit you.” 

Y/N looks back up at him from under her lashes, tone unreadable. “I didn’t think you were. Limiting me, that is. You don’t...limit me.”

Harry nods his head sharply in relieved confirmation, coughing a bit. His throat feels drier than usual and he knows it’s not for a blood-driven reason. “Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“I do.”

“Alright.” 

A charged silence befalls the ambiance between them and the vampire comes to the conclusion that getting his neck snapped was less painful than having this conversation. At least that was quick, whereas this is grueling and horribly uncomfortable, ridden with anxiety and too many elongated pauses. They are walking on extremely thin eggshells around one another, which is something they’ve never had to do before. They have always been on the same wavelength about their relationship and not once has such a nerve-inducing instance come to pass. Now a wrench has been thrown into their metaphorical mechanism and the nuts and bolts are dismantling by the handfuls, leaving them barren and closed-off more than ever. He can feel this situation straining their friendship and he hates it more than he hates those stupid tapestries she fancies.

“If you knew you were gonna be busy,” Harry starts carefully, gluing his attention to a random stain on the cement ground as he scuffs the heel of his boot against her dirty welcome mat, “why didn’t you just text me and cancel?” 

Y/N takes a shaky inhale, focusing on tracing the faded cursive letters on her rug. “I...I still wanted you to come.”

Harry’s foot halts its motions, gaze jumping to her for a thoughtful second, brows knotting with mild confusion at her confession. If she still wants him in her bed, why was she indulging someone else? “You wanted me to come?...Why?”

“Because Fridays are our days.” 

The corners of his mouth twitch. Our days. Their days. Theirs.

The brunette clears his throat to try and saw away at the tension, shifting against the door as the subject delves into heavier territory. He’s never been one to stutter— he’s much too confident in himself to ever have that issue— but it seems to have become a new development whenever Y/N is around. “If...If you want— uhm...If you want to see other people, you obviously don’t need my permission or anything. But I’d like a little heads-up, just so I know where we stand.” 

Y/N releases a curt sigh of exasperation and somehow, Harry can tell it’s not aimed towards him. It’s aimed towards herself. 

She fidgets with the tips of her fingers, talking to the floor but directing her message towards her friend. “It’s not what you think, H.” 

Harry pins his intent back onto her face, intrigue fully peaked. “What do you mean?” 

Y/N takes another trembling breath, releasing it through her nose as a tired exhale. She can feel him looming over her, waiting for an appropriate response with his lips set into a detached line, his ever-present aroma of vanilla and tobacco muddling her thoughts. “I...I mean the date. It wasn’t truly a real date, per se.”

The vampire’s eyes bore into her relentlessly as he clings onto every syllable she speaks. He’s clutching to a form of hope that he deems absolutely humiliating. “How so?”

Y/N picks at the chipping lavender polish on her nails and he finds it adorable how the color of the lacquer matches one of the main notes in her scent. 

She speaks up softly and honestly, and he thinks he detects a shred of guilt to her explanation. “Isabel was the one who set it up. Her cousin came into the cafe and when he saw me, he asked her to get me to go on a date with him. I have no actual interest in Jacob, but I said yes just to be nice. I didn’t wanna upset Isabel by making her think her cousin wasn’t good enough for me or something. That’s the only reason I went.” 

Harry slowly twists his lionhead daylight ring around his middle finger, simultaneously thumbing over the opal on his pinky. The stone is cold to the touch, but not nearly as cold as his skin. 

He reiterates her story slowly, wanting to make sure he interpreted correctly. “So...you only went on the date because you felt bad? You don't actually like him?”

Y/N’s hands plop down against her thighs as she tilts her head back up to look at him, her tone and eyes completely deadpan. “Well, when you say it like that, it makes me sound kind of mean.” 

Harry snorts softly, mouth buckling into his signature crooked smirk. “It’s pretty cruel, to be honest— giving that poor bloke hope like that. Very malicious of you.” 

Y/N kicks at his ankle jokingly, her lips toying with a grin. “Shut up.” 

“You should be careful. Something tells me his ego bruises easily.” 

“Oh, is that so? What makes you say that?” 

The vampire sucks at his teeth, tapping his chin in faux thought as he shrugs his brows tauntingly. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably the overly-tight shirt and fraternity ring. Seems to me like he’s trying to make up for something he lacks. Probably in the intimacy department.”

Y/N chews along her cheek to keep from bursting into giggles. “You are cruel.” 

“I prefer the term ‘brutally honest.’ Sounds classier.” 

“Right. Because you’re all about class.” 

“Heyyyy!” Harry whines in exaggerated insult, face contorting with dramatic offense. “I’m a classy guy! I have the English accent and fancy chandeliers to prove it!” 

“Right. Super classy.” 

“I’m a proper gentleman.” The monster huffs with begrudging finality, irises glitzing deviously. “That is, until you beg me to behave otherwise.” 

“Fuck off.” 

He looks down at her over the crests of his sharp cheekbones as she gazes up at him with a humorously flat expression, feeling all the pent-up stress from the previous events dissolve away into nothing. Harry reaches forward, taking a single curled strand of her hair and moving it behind her shoulder to get a better look at her face. The gesture makes Y/N’s heartbeat hiccup. Especially when that same forefinger ends up poised below her chin, his thumb distractedly caressing across her jaw. 

The creature’s next sentence comes out low and almost vulnerable. “So it meant nothing, then? Are you sure? Because I don’t want to get in the way of your dating life if you—”

“It meant nothing.” Y/N confirms, bobbing her head once insistently. She cradles her cheek into his icy palm, keeping their eyes locked as she gives it a gentle kiss, her insides fluttering when Harry’s breathing hitches. “I’m not gonna be seeing him again anytime soon. Or ever, probably. And that’s why I didn’t mention it to you— because I knew it wouldn’t change anything between us. You’re the only person I’m interested in right now.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

The young man swallows thickly, leaning down to smudge his nose across the girl’s and the action erupts a certain flood of warmth so powerful, it could very well kickstart the dead organ below his ribs. His voice is tumbling down his numb tongue before he can think to stop it. “I’ve been thinking about you all week.” 

Y/N’s fingers stretch upwards to wrap around his wrist securely, almost as if to tether him and eliminate the chance of his touch slipping away. Her whisper is trembly and raw. “You have?” 

Harry knows he’s allowing this to wade into dangerously grey waters, but he can’t find it in himself to care, at the moment. “Yeah. Couldn’t get you out of my head. Couldn’t stop thinking about how good you felt last time.” 

The mortal teeters onto the tips of her toes, flirting her mouth over her friend’s, a prickling sensation stemming from where their cupid’s bows brush. She glimpses at him amidst her lashes, glassy eyes reflecting his need right back at him. “Tell me more. Please?”

The breath of Harry’s words is hot against her mouth, his eyes lulling closed as he recalls all of the memories from the last few days. “I just couldn’t shake it. You were just so tight and warm and the way you were pushing back against my thrusts...the way you were shaking and whimpering...the way you flipped around and slammed your mouth to mine because you wanted me to moan onto your tongue….It was so fucking filthy, I just— I couldn’t—”

His control begins to shatter and the immortal can feel desperation leak through the cracks webbing across his composure. Y/N isn’t helping any, considering she’s started suckling lightly at his bottom lip, her free hand coming up to toy with the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“Keep going.” 

Harry gulps heavily before continuing. “I touched myself while fantasying about you. Lost count of how many times, honestly. But I came so hard every single one. It was pretty easy to lose myself like that, just sitting there thinking about everything we do. Thinking about how pretty you look with my cock in your mouth, taking it down your throat like such a good fucking girl. How nice your arse feels in my hands, especially when you ask me to spank it. How snug you are when you sink over me, stretching around it like it’s made just for you. How the little noises you make sound so fucking perfect— like a song, really. And...and how good you taste between your thighs. S’like honey. Just so fucking sweet.” 

There’s a pause as Harry’s words sink into the air, his dirty confessions pulling passion taut into existence between the two lovers. They’re all over each other in less than a heartbeat. 

Y/N begins to fumble with the small purse she has strung across her body, frantically fishing for her keys as Harry delights himself with sponging his lips across the slope of her jaw, grinning into her skin at the little curses escaping her throat. He absolutely adores how whipped she gets for him. 

The human manages to retrieve her key, jamming it into the lock blindly as her eyes blur with tears of sheer need, stemming from the tiny shots of bliss Harry is instilling through the sloppy pecks he’s trailing down her jugular. She hastily turns the knob, bumping her full weight into the door and nearly fainting in relief when it swings open. She turns sharply to face him, roping her arms around his strong shoulders and pulling him into her, shuddering at how incredible it feels to have his strong torso flushed to hers so intimately. Harry allows himself to be yanked forward into her apartment, giggling softly when she crashes their mouths together messily, harshly tugging him past the threshold. 

The vampire’s lean arms wrap around her waist as the young woman maneuvers their connected bodies into the narrow hallway of her flat, one of her hands waving around wildly until it succeeds in shoving the door shut. Y/N slams Harry up against the closest wall, feverishly fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt and nearly ripping them out of their designated holes. Her hands quiver as she races down the seams, her eyes tinging darker when Harry leans his head back against the panel and smirks down at her smugly. 

He gnaws on his bottom lip, his half-lidded gaze mocking her hysteria as his voice comes out deep and melodic as always, slathered with self-assured arrogance. “You’re so cute when you’re this eager to fuck me.” 

Y/N pants against his twitching lips, tearing his top down his broad figure and shamelessly groping at his swollen biceps. “Just shut up and kiss me.”  

Harry abides, lulling his tongue along her upper lip and thrumming deeply when her digits trickle down his abdomen. He coos into her mouth as she begins fiddling with his belt buckle. “What, no interior design emergency this time? You’re losing your touch, darling.” 

The girl pulls the leather strap off his pants in a frenzy, scoffing at his stupid quip and breaking their kiss to speckle her mouth down his bare chest, feeling it stutter below her influence. “I got some new chairs for my dining table. Wanna take a look?” 

The boy’s fingers card into her roots as she descends down his stomach with wet pecks, his eyes rolling closed with a strained grunt. She bites along his fern inkings and his hips buck forward in response, his grip on her hair tightening when she palms over the outline of his clothed cock. “You know I’m always a sucker for some good dining chairs.”

As it turns out, Y/N had actually gotten some new chairs, much to Harry’s surprise. 

They’re nice, in his opinion. They seem sturdy enough, with metal backrests and legs that are covered in tarnished gold paint that gives a pleasing rustic look. But in the end, Harry doesn’t really much care for the details of the furniture. All he cares about is if they’ll manage to withstand Y/N’s weight as he shoves her onto her knees atop the chair and bends her over the back. Or if they’ll stay put as he pounds into her from behind with a fist in her hair and his letter rings marking across her backside. That’s all that truly matters. 

Despite having done this countless of times before, this particular instance feels different. Both of them can tell, but Y/N feels it more prevalently. Specifically, in the bottom of her stomach and in the pain sweltering across her ass.

Harry’s just…rougher. He’s still himself, so he makes sure she’s okay with everything he does before doing it, but when he gets the green light, he doesn’t let it go to waste. His grip on her roots is harsh, with his nails digging into her scalp as he jerks her head back to bring her in for a kiss, her spine arching into a semi-circle. The position is difficult given the amount of flexibility required, but Y/N powers through. She quite likes it, actually— it gives him a deeper range of depth, somehow. She can feel him touching the trench of her tummy and she refuses to do anything that might make that stop.

The kiss is upside down, but the vampire doesn’t let that deter him. It’s still dirty and heedless, with lots of biting and overzealous tongues, broken whines and fractured pleas. Y/N freely moans into his mouth, gasping and mewling to his every thrust with a certain type of helplessness that flogs the flames blistering Harry’s dormant veins. He loves that he makes her feel helpless, especially because she makes him feel the exact same way. 

His stride is fast and deep and unapologetic— vengeful, almost, and they both know why. Even though Y/N had told the creature that the date had been nothing but a selfless chore, he can’t seem to let it go as easily as she had. He finds himself wanting to prove to her that he’s better than that insipid stranger. That he can give her everything she wants without a single issue. That he can deliver everything she needs with expert skill and relentless force, just as she prefers. That he can make her entire body tremble in overstimulation and make every fiber of her being tingle with sheer pleasure, just by gifting her a few adamant snaps of his hips and by muttering a couple filthy promises onto her unfeeling tongue. 

“Bet he wouldn’t be able to make you feel like this, huh, pet?” Harry growls against her swollen lips, plunging his thick length into her and nudging at that sweet spot that makes her toes curl. “Bet he wouldn’t know how to handle you— how to handle that tight cunt and that sharp tongue. Could never take care of you the way I do, isn’t that right, baby?” 

Y/N rattles her head in her friend’s grasp, releasing fragmented noises of bliss as he hikes her dress further up her ass and gives it another brutal spank. She can feel his rings imprinting across her sweaty skin and she strives off it more than she should. 

Her voice comes out garbled and weak. “N-No one can make me feel as good as you.” 

“Damn straight.” Harry grits out, breaking their prolonged kiss to rest his chin against her damp forehead, looking down at her from over his sharp, tinted cheekbones. “Nobody can fuck you into a begging mess like I can. Whose pretty cunt is this, angel? Who’s the only one who gets to call you their little slut?” 

The electricity crackling around his pupils is borderlining on unhinged, but she adores it. The fact that she can drive him to the brink like that feeds the affinity she has to win his praise. “It’s yours, Harry. Just yours— it’s always just you. You’re the only one. Nobody e-else— fuck, oh my God!”

“You got all dolled up for him, though. Why’s that’s, hm?” Harry’s hold releases from her hair and fumbles down to her throat, the pads of his fingers leaving bruises across her jugular as he grunts lowly with every hellbent ram. “If you didn’t care, why’d you get all pretty, then? Why’d you wear perfume? And why’d you wear that dress— my dress?”

Y/N’s lashes flutter as he refers to her outfit, which is the same one she’d had on the day they had officially established their loose arrangement. Hearing him call it his— hearing him claim it as his own with so much dominant confidence— makes the pit of her belly froth. It is his. Sure, she’d worn it for the sake of looking presentable, but it was only to satisfy the basic rules of what a date entails. In truth, under the excuse of inherent kindness, she’d worn it because she knew Harry would see it afterwards. Because she knew he liked it. Because she wanted to please him. 

The girl communicates that to him now in the form of a feathery mumble, staring up at his angered eyes with a moony, innocent aura. “I wore it f-for you.”  

The intense jealousy present in Harry’s clenched jaw and furrowed brows dissipates, replaced by soft awe at her wispy affirmation. He pants as he absorbs the real meaning behind her entire appearance, feeling sparks ignite in his heaving chest. “You...You did it for me?” 

Y/N struggles to swallow in his rough grip, nodding a bit as her fingers tighten around the edge of the chair. “I know you like it and, well…I like making you happy.” 

Harry’s lips part in astonished wonder, though he’s not so sure why her admission had caught him off guard. She’s told him plenty of times that she likes giving him what he wants, but this just feels slightly more personal than anything else she’s ever uttered during an orgasmic stupor. It’s tipping along one of the lines they had sworn not to cross. 

The vampire hadn’t even realized his strokes had tapered to a halt, and apparently neither had she. They’re both too busy looking into each other’s eyes with expressions that neither can decipher. The tense pause only lasts maybe three seconds at most, but it feels like they manage to fit an eternity of uncertain silence within that short time frame. 

Harry cuts through the moment by clearing his throat, intent on changing the subject into something much lighter that will allow them to return to their previous activity. However, the words that rasp out of his raw lips are ones he hadn’t consciously consented to. They come from a sincere nature he’d suppressed for so long, he didn’t think it was possible for it to ever resurface again. “I like making you happy, too.”

Y/N blinks up at him with her usual doe-like air, the corners of her lips twitching fondly at his requited compliment. “I guess we just like making each other happy, then, don’t we?” 

The monster has never been more thankful for her witty personality. It gives him the opportunity to stuff his emotions back into the box they belong, allowing him to regain his typical composure and return her banter without a hitch. He bursts into a round of wheezy giggles, tapping at the hollow of her throat playfully. “I guess so. We’ll add that to the list of things we do to each other, right under ‘excite.’”

The rest of the session goes as usual, thankfully. Some more degrading names are exchanged, positions are switched, hickies are stained on fleshy thighs and damp shoulders, and Harry’s array of rings paint an art piece across Y/N’s backside that he thinks is worthy of the Louvre. His initials are signed on it and everything. 

The pair end up splayed across her trusty old couch, catching their breaths from the heavy exertion they’d just put each other through. Y/N is still in her dress, though it’s rumpled, damp, and the thin straps are hanging off her shoulders limply. Harry is bare, as he always is after sex, per his raunchy preference. However, Y/N had made him cover himself with a blanket in order to keep at least a shred of decency between them. Plus, she’d said she didn’t want his “limp dick brushing against my dress while we cuddle.” 

And that’s what they’re doing now— snuggling on her couch with the human pressed up against the vampire’s side, his arm slung around her shoulders casually as she doodles random shapes across the colored skin of his tummy. She has one leg hooked across his covered hips, which he’s more than happy to allow because he thoroughly enjoys rubbing his palm up and down the back of her thigh; it’s soothing and warm. Y/N entertains herself with nuzzling her head against the crook of his neck, sighing contentedly as he props his chin atop her temple and pets at her frizzy hair with gentle strokes. It’s a nice moment, full of slowly steadying breaths and the hum of the air vent at the other end of the room. 

Harry is the first to break the tranquil atmosphere. 

“I give the chairs a ten out of ten. IKEA really outsold.” 

Y/N slaps her hand down against his naked chest, sputtering into a wave of loud laughter that is unbelievably contagious. “I’m happy you like them ‘cause, uh...they were on clearance. Can’t return them.” 

“You lucked out then, didn’t you? Kudos to your ability to pick out decent furniture.” Harry twirls a strand of her tangled locks around his index finger, giving it a playful tug as a grin dimples his flushed cheeks. “Except for when it comes to wall decor.”

“It’s not my fault you're a stuck-up asshole.” 

“And it’s not my fault you have a knack for cringey drapery depicting ClipArt images.” 

“I’m going to strangle you with one of my tapestries, I really am.”

“Be my guest. At least I won’t have to look at them ever again.” The immortal squeezes her thigh jestingly, his smile widening when she squirms and giggles. “I can’t tell you how many times we’ve been fucking and I accidentally glanced at it and almost went soft.” 

“But you didn’t.” She reasons, flicking at one of his nipples in revenge and feeling proud when he hisses softly. 

“But I could have.”

“But you didn’t.” 

“But I could have.” Harry insists stubbornly, reaching up to push a few wet curls out of his tired eyes. “Have you ever had someone go soft inside you? It’s pretty gross. Highly discourage it.”

“Just close your eyes, then.” Y/N states with finality, pinching at his belly button and cackling in satisfaction when he writhes. “You’re real shitty at solving problems, y’know that? You could never be Sherlock.” 

Harry goes quiet for a second and his friend almost looks up to check if he’s alright; he’s too petty to ever back out of anything. But sure enough, his voice comes out a second later, flat and unyielding. “Take down the glorified curtains or I’m never eating you out again.”

“I’ll take down my glorified curtains the day you take down that Stevie Nicks poster on your wall.” 

“I refuse to take down Stevie!”

“And I refuse to take down Amanda!”

“You named it?!”

The lovers chat and bicker childishly for a while longer, talking about anything and everything that will keep them entertained. Harry explains to Y/N how his friends had gone on a trip this week (though he makes sure to omit the fact that he had willingly bailed in order to spend time with her) and he’d been alone most of the time. She responds to his story with an incredulous yelp, telling him that he should’ve come over if he wanted some company. She says she would have been more than happy to hang out with him, but he knows she’d been so busy the entire week with work, she probably would have fallen asleep within ten minutes of him arriving. It’s the thought that counts, though, so he thanks her for the belated support, either way. 

Y/N talks about a weird customer that had come in and ordered a sandwich with nothing but cucumbers and cheddar cheese on French bread, which she had later recreated to taste-test herself out of curiosity. She can confirm it was abhorrent and the way her nose crinkles with disgust makes Harry snort in endearment. She also tells him about how horribly the date with Jacob had gone, simply because she can tell he’s itching to ask. She recounts everything the young man boasted about, from the annoying college stories to his stupid opinion about clubs. She informs him that she’d never had a more terrible experience in her life and that she wishes she could get that hour of her life back. 

Harry can’t help the way his face lights up at how utterly repulsed she sounds. He knew it. He fucking knew she would never insert herself into a romantic situation with such a comedic punchline of a human being. Hearing her confirm his suspicions is almost as pleasurable as what she can do with her mouth. Almost. 

The vampire finds himself lost in his thoughts, thinking about how much better the whole event would have gone if it had been him instead. How he would have picked her up from her flat by actually getting out of the car and knocking on her door, rather than just sending her a text to come down. How he would have helped her into his car like a proper gentleman, and how he would’ve aided her back out when the time came. How he would enter the restaurant with his palm resting at the dip of her back, guiding the girl towards their seats and pulling out a chair for her. How they’d make conversation as easily as they always do, and how he’d have her laughing between mouthfuls of food, and how he’d expertly flirt her into a fidgety puddle. How he’d reach over the table to get a bit of sauce off the corner of her mouth with a cloth napkin, and how she’d thank him with that shy smile he’d grown to admire. How he’d wave off her suggestion to split the bill, paying it all himself and smirking as she scolds him for it because she likes being hard-headed and independent. How much fun she would actually have, and how she would probably be willing to go out on a second date.  

Harry’s comment topples out of his mouth before he can rethink it. 

“I bet I could take you out on a better date.” 

Y/N’s head snaps upwards to meet his gaze, eyebrows jumping in utter shock. She hadn’t been expecting that from him at all. Ever. 

She talks between airy spurts of glee. “That was random.” 

Harry doesn’t return the gesture. In fact, his lips don’t even jolt in the slightest. He simply just stares down at her with seriousness decorating his features, long lashes blinking blankly. He doesn’t know what overcame him to make such a bizarre, uncalled for claim, but he can’t take it back now. And he’s not so sure he wants to, honestly. He knows there’s truth to his belief— he could definitely do a better job of wooing her than that Jesse McCartney wannabe. It’s not like it’s hard.

Aside from that, seeing Y/N out with another man had reminded Harry that their little alliance isn’t anything solid— it’s not bulletproof, and he really shouldn’t be taking it for granted. He’d been so cocky and self-assured about himself and what he has to offer, he’d forgotten that there is always the possibility that Y/N might grow tired of him. It may be a microscopic possibility, but it exists, nonetheless. If he wants to keep her interested, he has to up his game a bit, or she might decide that he isn’t worth keeping around. If he wishes to maintain this favorable arrangement where he gets his intimate tendencies tailored and his supernatural necessities sufficed, he needs to give her a more fulfilling reason to stay. 

Good sex is a very convincing factor, sure, but there might come a time in her life when she wants more than just a no-strings-attached affair. There may come a time when she’ll mature out of this stage and seek something sturdier and safe and anchored. There may come a time when she wants a real relationship, and if he doesn’t keep her occupied, that could be sooner rather than later. And it could be with someone else. He doesn’t want this convenience taken away from him— doesn’t want to lose the thing they have going, which keeps him out of annoying clubs, out of random people’s beds, and gives him the best blood he’s tasted in the last twenty decades. It’s too comfortable and satisfying to let go. He has to keep her hooked somehow, and if taking her on a date can assure that this flawless dream remains intact, then he’ll gladly do it. 

Harry licks his lips slowly, measuring out his next words with immense precision. “I’m being serious. I can definitely do better.” 

A million emotions funnel into Y/N’s eyes at once and he can only pick out a select few: confusion, astonishment, fear, denial, and slight unease. There is the chance that the monster may be interpreting all of the human’s feelings incorrectly because, truth be told, he isn’t the best at gauging or handling sentiments. However, there is one he knows he’s not misjudging— it’s the most evident one of all: Excitement. 

“Think about it for a second, yeah?” Harry starts, shifting in his seat to get a better look at her, raising his eyebrows decisively. “I’ve already gotten in your pants. That means I have no ulterior motive, right?”

Y/N’s own brows kink a smidge. “I...I guess.”

Her friend continues his speech. “Because of that, it means I won’t rush the date, I won’t expect anything from you, and we already get on pretty well, as it is. It’d be a proper good time— a genuine good time.”

The girl’s eyes flicker around different points of his face, trying to make sure he’s not pulling some type of cruel prank. Her tone comes out hesitant and slow. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

Harry squeezes the back of her thigh reassuringly. “It’s all in mathematics, love; everything adds up. It’s truly an ideal situation, if you ask me. Practically utopian.” 

Y/N takes a deep breath, letting it out shakily. This is all so sudden and unexpected, she feels like Harry might burst into laughter any minute and reveal it’s all just a big joke. It’s just not them. It’s out of bound— it scribbles outside the box drawn around their whole dynamic. They were never meant to date, they were just meant to sleep together; they were meant to provide each other with the satisfaction that comes from a real relationship, without all the trials and tribulations. Harry asking her on a date blurs those sacred boundaries in a way she’s not sure she’s ready to face. It could mess everything up. It could not only ruin the fun little arrangement they have going, but it could potentially destroy their entire friendship. Harry is the only person she’s truly connected with since she moved to Los Angeles and risking that bond on an impulsive decision...That’s something she doesn’t think she can afford to do. She can’t survive her new life on her own. This is just too dangerous. Way too dangerous. 

But then again...it’s not like she hasn’t thought about it before. She will admit, there have been instances where she’s pictured her and Harry becoming more than just warm bodies to each other. The two days she spent over at his house the weekend prior had solidified those fantasies and made them more frequent. They just click so well, she knows for a fact they’d make a great team. It’d be like dating a best friend, in a way. They fit one another in a manner she didn’t think was possible, and despite the fact they’ve only been acquainted for just over a month and a half, it feels like they’ve been friends for years. She feels like these types of connections are rare to create and she finds herself wishing it could develop into more. 

But could it really be worth the potential grievance?

Y/N tunes back into reality, gazing up at Harry with reluctant eyes. She’s surprised to find his are full of confident clarity, as if he’s already sold on the idea and had begun planning their outing. He’s simply awaiting her response at this point, thumbing over her knee gently while tucking her hair behind her ear, lips poised into that lopsided simper that makes her heart skip and her nerves glitch. How could she possibly find it in herself to say no to him? 

The mortal clears her throat lightly, gnawing into her cheek as she speaks her next words with airy humor. “So is that your official way of asking me out? ‘Cause if so, that’s not enough. You’re gonna have to do better, love.”

Harry hesitates for a split second, but it’s so fast, his friend doesn’t even take notice. He prays he doesn’t grow to regret this decision. 

The boy nods, pursing his mouth into a small smile. 

“I’m sorry, I don't think I heard you? Must be the AC.” 

Harry rolls his eyes grandly at the stolen joke, which is identical to one he had made two weeks ago when he’d come over for their usual adult pastime and had brought a special toy in tow. 

His mood comes out theatrical, accent heavily exaggerated. “Dear fair maiden, would you be so kind as to do me the impeccable honor of allowing me to bask in your presence by attending a luncheon with me, preferably sometime in the near future? Thank you so much for your consideration. Sincerely signed...” The creature takes a pause, proceeding to sing his next words to the tune of a song they are both familiar with, given their interest in the Hamilton play. “Your Obedient Servant, H dot Styles.” 

Y/N explodes into a series of giggles, shaking her head as she reaches up to peck at his grinning lips. 

“It would be my pleasure.” 

[danddymaro]

She’s mine

I love Both Bucky and Loki competing, and just fussing over the reader. It honestly is my top, fav.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader // Loki x Reader

Word Count: 4924

Might make a Part 2 , but even if I do, it won’t end with any decided pairing, because , even I can’t choose.

She’s Mine

A  peace-filled smile graced the (h/c) haired young woman as a default, even while the action she was performing was unimportant and idle, and much more something mindless to fill in the spaces that came in between then and sleep.

Little, dark inked spirals and mindless doodles riddled the once empty back of the printed paper, and it wasn't long before a crude, little illustration of a bucket-headed robot was drawn.

Chuckling lowly, the young woman lightly shook her head before gliding the pen over the paper to detail the final touches.

With a swell of pride, she looked down at the silly drawing,

"- There you go Mr. Stank," She muttered with mirth, the devious, little glint in her eye enough to make her adoring admirer's heart twitch.

Discreetly, grey eyes that held a soft touch of blue skimmed over her, quietly marveling at her amusingly devious expression throughout the entire time, the undisturbed, grand view of her giving him all the more reason to smile while he paid half a mind to the conversation he'd been dragged into.

He was itching to ask her to join them, but instead, begrudgingly settled at staring at her, admiring her like an expert would a perfect painting with many hidden musings.

"- I'll be back in a minute," His blonde friend suddenly piped up, "You guys keep talking, " He insisted before retreating to the washroom, leaving Both Wilson and Barnes to continue their silly banter and stories.

"Ok, So like I was saying," Wilson started before quickly being cut off by A little ding that echoed, the sound signaling new company that was approaching their floor.

Surprised he looked over his shoulder at the entrance, curious as to who had arrived, and during then the man next to him also looked on, interested.

At first, it wasn't anything (f/n) paid mind to, until, of course, she caught a hint of well-known accents.

Idle chat that came from familiar voices carried off into the air and the second they reached her, the pen in her hand fell, a small, almost inaudible click made as it dropped onto the counter and rolled off, forgotten after another soft-sounding tap.

In a quick instant, she turned into an unrecognizable blur as she dashed towards the two arriving men,  her arms stretched wide, opened as far as they could go, having a purpose-filled aim as she advanced towards them. 

Pietro received the sight with a hint of awe, a very small part of him smitten at the moment it took action, but not enough to make him look away from his little show for a longer duration than half a minute. 

Instead,  he smiled halfheartedly at her little sprint and popped another bite of candy in his mouth, sinking further into the couch as he relaxed, a little chuckle escaping him during then, because he knew just what followed.

'And here we go,' He inwardly mused, debating on whether or not to tune down the program to get a better look at the real-life show just a few feet from him.

'The poor guy,' He added with a soft touch of pity, referring to the newest member of their team that currently watched the interaction with hardened, stony eyes.

Squealing with delight, (f/n) practically launched herself towards the dark-haired Asgardian, aiming for him first, having had it in the plan since he’d first left months ago.

"You're back!" she cried out, wrapping her arms around his slender neck before holding onto him tightly, and by that point, both of her legs were fully off the ground,  crossed behind the man as she latched onto him like a baby finger monkey on a single human digit.

“Loki!” she said happily, basking in his scent of sweet roasted almonds, and so much more she never really took the time to think of, but nonetheless, missed.

“It's been ages! “ she cried exasperated, suddenly feeling lively and chatty.

‘It’s felt like an entire lifetime!’ she inwardly cheered, having missed his company.

She had so many things to say, so many things to catch him up on, and a simple greeting wouldn't make up for his prolonged absence.

‘I have so much to tell you,’ She mused with elation, ‘I have so much more to ask you!’ She then went on, hoping his stay was long enough to cover everything, much more, make up his prior absence.

‘There’s so much we have to catch up on,’ She thought with determination, intent to cover over it all in one sitting just to spend the rest of the time enjoying the present, uncertain on when was his next leave.

Beside them both, Thor grinned, turning to the younger brother with a hint of tease within the lively upturn, “Is that a good enough welcome for you?” Questioned the elder with an added chuckle.

“-As always,” Loki replied contently, placing a single hand over the head of  (h/c) colored hair, ruffling it into a messy nest in a matter of seconds, pleased with his work as he watched the annoyance that etched over the young woman's face.

 “Hey wait,” She huffed out, quickly peeling herself off from him, “ I just had it done," she said while lightly miffed. “It took me forever to get it right,” she continued to whine.

 “-Serves you right, “ He started,  “I've told you if you that if you want it to be healthy, you need to treat it properly. I imagine this isn't the only time you've messed with it since my leave, right?” Loki chided, watching her quickly shrink with a grimace. 

Of course, there were parts of him she missed. 

She missed her friend, the one who she could confide in and leave herself open with, knowing that after it was all let out, there wouldn't be judgment, only acceptance.

She missed the man, the same one who was honest with her and didn't beat around the bush, because sometimes tough love was needed and she appreciated it. 

Though, it was annoying to have a mother nagging her, yet, if she had a choice, she wouldn't have it any other way. 

'I missed you...' she silently voiced, having missed their dynamic.

 As (f/n) stared towards Loki, she offered him a joyful smile and looked up at him beaming, ready to open her mouth in an array of questions, until Thor interrupted her. 

He coughed into his hand before looking away from the two pair of eyes, acting nonchalant, which in itself was entirely too inconspicuous.

His not-so-subtle way of calling for attention didn't go unnoticed as Loki rolled his eyes and (f/n) giggled, scratching the back of her neck at her thoughtlessness.

“Whoops,” she said under her breath, smiling awkwardly. 

“ You seem to have forgotten the better of the two gods, “ Thor said boasting, puffing out his chest as if to show his superiority.  

At that Loki tsked, crossing his arms in a rather annoyed fashion.  

“ better? at what?" he said quickly, starting off a ramble of quips that quickly died out before they could really see the light.

‘Is that restrain?’ (f/n) mused, finding it funny how the man seemed to have a quick retort hidden in his sleeve, but held back on using it.

With a sweet titter, (f/n) then walked over to the eldest and took him into a friendly, warm embrace. 

She wrapped her arms around his midsection and squeezed him tight, hoping he wouldn't squeeze her back and crush her. He’d accidentally done so before on one occasion, and it always stayed in the back of her mind, even though it had been so long ago.

 '- To be fair, he did get me some nice flowers, afterward,' she mused, thinking of the event with lightheartedness, remembering that he’d been very ginger with her afterward.

 'And he did fix that ache in my back,' She added with faint optimism, though not willing to take the risk again. Granted, her strength was above the average human, but even then, it didn't mean he couldn't hurt her.

“I've missed you too Thor,” she spoke while smiling kindly. “And I'm sorry for that .” she apologized, not wanting him to feel left out in any way. 

She hadn't meant to dismiss him, 

“It’s just-” she started, but before she could get the words out, the golden-haired male cut her off, 

“ no need to explain,” Thor said while raising both hands in to stop her, “Not a word is needed,” He then added, “...As I know why, ”  he said wiggling his eyebrows before throwing her a sly, little wink. 

The gesture completely flew over her head as Loki tapped her shoulder for attention, simultaneously glaring at his brother as he eyed the blonde from over her head.

It was A ‘ Shut up or I'll kill you,’ type of look that had left the larger male smirking, more than pleased with the reaction.

“Ah, (f/n), would you care to take a stroll with me?” Loki asked her, quickly changing his expression,  into a soft smile, hoping to spend the time alone, all while avoiding unwanted staring or disturbance. 

'I'd rather it be just the two of us,' He inwardly mused.

Quickly forgetting the gestures thrown at her by the other male, she then clapped both her hands together once in glee before she agreed eagerly, nodding her head,

“Of course!”  she chirped.

“Just let me put on my coat,” she said while smiling, springing into a short jog towards the coat hanger, going in search of the essential piece of clothing for the night.

"- Just give me a minute," She added while briefly looking back at him, shooting him yet another grin before she went back and rummaged through the various layers to find her own.

He walked up to her just as she finished zipping up her burley winter coat, by then, patting down the sides to make herself look more presentable and wear down the little, formed wrinkles.

The dark-haired male then wrapped an arm around her waist, soon pulling her to him with a single swoop.

With the movement, she was left surprised and jumped slightly at the interaction before pouting,

“ - No. please? let's just take the elevator instead.”  she offered him while pulling away from him, the distance that was put between them set there so he wouldn’t just cut her off by zapping her to another place mid-sentence.

He’d done so before, on more than one occasion, and now, she was wary of the spontaneous travel.

“I've already told you," She started, " The whole idea of me just appearing somewhere else like that gives me jitters.” She added while speaking with honestly,

‘Plus it makes me nauseous,’ She thought to herself, always feeling sickly after the travel, not quite understanding why, but certain that the form of transportation wasn't her after the third time throwing up.

“We can just take a walk wherever you want to go, “ she offered in compromise, throwing in a sweet, pleading smile along with the proposal. "Besides, I think it’d be nicer...you know, so we can catch up,” She then added, convincing him quickly.

"Of course," he agreed, following her into the spacious, little elevator.

He stood by, stretching his arm for her and moving aside, just so she could enter first, the courteous gesture enticing a little chuckle from her, one that sounded playful and was paired with a kittenish grin.

"The usual place?" He then questioned her, and it took that single question for her face to brighten,

"of course," She answered him, "Where else?" She added with amusement.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He didn't want to think about it, in fact, he just wanted to forget ever seeing a guy putting his hands on her so casually, like it was something he could do on a whim, wherever he wanted to.

Because, it was something he, himself hadn’t come to accomplish or even thought of having the nerve to do. 

Barnes had heard of him, staring from the wary Avengers, to the trusting (h/c) haired female that only spoke good things of him. 

He knew about the man, from his actions to his character and even his appearance to help him get a better picture.

However, now while having taken a close look at the God, he felt stirred from within. 

Bucky Barnes was a man, but even he would agree that Loki wasn't an eyesore and that all in all, he was attractive. 

'He's...better put together,' He thought with frustration, having quickly picked up on the confident air the man carried around that only made him seem all the more regal.

Bucky sank deeper into the couch, clenching his teeth like a rabid dog with a full case of rabies, the boiling male having held back from launching straight toward the other guy as he practically groped (F/n).

 From beside his seat, Sam immediately scooted away from him, noticing the looming cloud crawling over the bellowing man,

 “ uhh, you good man?” he asked raising an eyebrow, almost feeling afraid to speak a word to the brewing man, because he wasn't sure if it was going to set him off or not.

“ peachy...” Bucky muttered with a glare sent to the doorway, his eyes having been glued to the pair throughout the entire time. His gaze was intense, all to a degree that the iced over orbs didn't budge after the pair left, staying on the spot as he seethed.

“- Just peachy,” he repeated flatly, grinding his teeth together by that point.

There wasn't too much of an effort put into finding out what had made the brunette switch from laughter to death glare in an instant, and though it was concerning, Sam couldn't help but find it amusing.

It was plain as day that Bucky had been jealous, almost to the point of growing mad, and while he did feel bad for him, he'd been warned beforehand.

"Do you think she's in love with him?" the long-haired brunette asked with a pitiable tone, one that was full of worry and threatening dejection.

The question came out of the blue, but even then, his good friend knew where it came from, not needing names to determine just who was in question,

"In love?" Steve said while leaning his cheek into his hand, pondering over the question with his own uncertainty. "it's hard to say," He admitted, and the answer made his best friend shrink, because it meant that there was a possibility, one that he would lose (f/n). 

"To be honest, I don't know," Rogers added, looking towards the gloomy male with understanding, knowing just why he sulked, but unable to really give him an answer that helped.

He could have easily said that she saw him as a friend, but it wouldn't be entirely true, because he wasn't too sure if it was true or not, and he didn't want to give his friend any hope where there wasn't.

"She cares about him a lot," He said with certainty, staring off with confidence, " And he..." He trailed off, not having figured out the Asgardian, because he rarely ever interacted with him.

"- He's into her," Sam said with assurance, being quick to answer with all the confidence the blonde lacked, butting into the conversation to lay in his own opinion.

"You think?" Steve asked him, truly piqued with interest. 

"Oh yeah," Wilson said while shaking his head, "Big time," He added with a dragged-out hum.

"How can you tell?" The first avenger asked with curiosity, leaning back in his seat to take in the answer, crossing his arms in wait.

"What gives it away?" He then added. 

"Well," the dark-skinned man said before snickering, breaking down into a quick chuckle, "He acts just like him when he's around her," He said before taking a sip of his drink, his index finger picking up and pointing towards the brooding male as he enjoyed the drink.

" Just what are you talking about?" Barnes questioned him, his eyes narrowing as his expression turned dour. 

"Well," Sam started, "You know how me and Steve, and just about everyone else in the world knows about personal space and boundaries?" He asked in a teasing tone.

At that, Steve looked down at his own drink, holding back a little chuckle, already aware of what was going to be said, "Oh yeah," He exhaled, "I get it now," Steve muttered below his breath, amused. 

"Get what?" Bucky questioned them both, his eyes running between the two to try and understand. 

‘What’s going on?’ He wondered while at a loss.

"Man, you're always up on her!" Sam exclaimed, laughing, "I'm surprised the girl can even breath," He added, living for the color that filled Bucky’s panicking face.

"- And you're always staring," He pointed out. 

"I- I stare at everything!" Bucky said all too quickly.

 "Yeah," Falcon said lowly, "Trust me, I know." He stated flatly, having addressed the problem before, because the glaring was unnerving to him. 

"I know you've got a problem, but with (f/n), you just really go all out," He explained, not understanding how the woman could go about her day with the ogling. 

"Steve?" Bucky said in a soft tone, staring down at his buddy while he, in turn, averted his eyes. 

"I...would have to agree," the blonde interjected, "And you know... I think Sam's right." He then said with a short grimace. "I hadn't thought about it too much before, but since he brought it up... when she's involved, you two pretty much act the same way, "  He summarized. 

"- Possessive. " Sam started. 

"Greedy," Steve added, being kinder with his description. 

"I think you mean clingy," Wilson corrected him, growing certain that the reason the young woman had two hips was so that she could have both males attached to each side. 

"Yep, and Obsessive," Stark cut in, casually walking up to the group, reaching over to grab a crystal glass. 

"Rude," Rhodes interjected as he too, approached, staring flatly at Barnes, 

"Don't forget rude," He added, remembering that the first real interaction he had with the metal-armed man was as he'd practically pulled the woman away from him, eyeing him with narrowed eyes throughout the moment, all because he'd made her giggle.

"In short," Pietro started, his quick steps halted as he joined the rest of the men,  his hand reaching for the trash to dump a few, little wrappers,

"- You are not so subtle," He chuckled before leaving, departing with those words alone.

"You might not want to hear it man, but the fact of the matter is, once he gets here, it's gonna be hell for you," Sam warned him. " So, I'd act quick," he advised.

"I'd take my chance now that he's out of the picture, because once he comes around, you won't wave a moment alone with her," he explained, the long haired brunette taking in the words with a thick, hard swallow.

"You know...I just can't imagine you two in the same room," Tony then added, shaking his head at the very idea.

"Well, not without trying to kill each other," Rhodey further explained, something Sam tisked at, all while Steve pressed his lips together, not wanting to agree, but knowing that perhaps, it might occur.

"Soo...." Stark started, "Who you guys betting on?" He added while trailing his eyes over every other male there.

At that, Wilson scratched his chin,  

"You mean winning a fight?

Getting (f/n), o-"

Abruptly standing, Bucky decided to leave, ignoring the calls that tried to bring him back, the male going as far as to jerk his shoulder as the blonde tried to stop him. 

“Buck!” He heard Wilson cry out, followed by more whines and calls that were disappointed he’d suddenly left.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(f/n) gladly snuggled deep into the blissfully warm, fluffy jacket as she was exposed to the night’s chilly air.

Loki on the other hand remained calm and simply took a normal stride, looking up at the dark sky with content, A remnant of a smile present on his face, just barely indicating the melodious delight he felt.

“ You don't seem to be enjoying the night air (f/n) “ he observed, all while offering her a small smirk.

tiny specks of snowflakes fell gracefully, each one finding a safe landing in both of their sets of hair, soon decorating both a dark river of silken black, and (light/dark) (h/c).

(e/c) colored eyes then landed on a particular snowflake that descended, soon resting at the tip of her nose. A content smile graced her as she crossed her eyes to look at it, all before it melted onto the chilled tip.

“What makes you say that??” she then asked him, looking up at the god with curiosity.

"I'm having fun," She assured him, grinning to the point she showed him all of her teeth.

“ - You're trembling,” he said simply, and all too quickly as well.

Snickering, she shook her head, " Alright, you got me." She sighed, “But you know, this is below my type of weather.” she explained, “I like chilly, but this is cold, freezing cold”. She told him.

“ you know I like the snow, and  I love the wintertime, but come on, even I have my limits,” she said with a pout before shaking her head, making bits of snow fly from her (h/c) hair.

"I, on the other hand, enjoy this weather," he said with a slight bit of pride, his statement, making her chuckle,

" I can't see why you wouldn't," she breathed, "You're practically born for it," She added with knowing, soon falling into silence with him.

"Still...right now, I'd rather be out here," She assured him, the bashful admittance forcing a little grin out of him.

‘Right now, I want to be with you,’ She mused, grateful that a little piece of her heart had found it’s way back to her.

"So..." She started, "How was your visit home?" She then asked him, the question making him release a soft bemused breath.

"Better than I could had anticipated," He admitted, rousing a sweet smile from her, one that held relief.

"That's good to hear," (f/n) told him, 'I'd hoped it was,' She inwardly spoke, her the worry that had stayed with her during his absence being that he'd return even more sullen.

"How is your mother?" She then asked him, the mention of the woman forcing him to form a kind grin, the genuine expression making her happy, because it spoke plenty.

"As always, a delight." He answered her, "I was able to spend more time with her during this visit, and she seemed... well, pleased to see me." He said with a tender expression she couldn't help giggling at.

'You're so happy,' She inwardly mused, finding his innocent face adorable, knowing just how much the woman meant to him.

"Mommy's baby boy," She cooed, teasing him.

A haughty chuckle left him before he spoke, his rebuttal just as fierce as hers,

"So...Barns." He said with a short mutter.

"James Buchanan Barnes, or as you would say so, so sweetly, Bucky," He teased back, shooting her a sly, little look that made her jump.

Her face warmed, and he snickered at her reaction, eyeing the sudden surprise she was struck with, with satisfaction.

"That's his name, right?" Loki mused, living for the sudden panic that flooded her face, and much more the sudden pitch of her voice as it rose into a little wail.

“ We're not here to talk about me! this is about you, alright?” she shot back, anxiously squealing out the words, falling into the uncomfortable silence that was riddled with the sound of his warm chuckles.

A little groan then left her as she hid her face within her two hands, detesting how much he teased her.

“-He likes you too,” Loki said nonchalantly, informing her in the most offhandish manner he could, the soft blow of words quickly stunning her.

She then came to a halt, gaping at him and his statement,

“t-t-that's impossible.” She said studding. “you're just kidding around, right?" She asked him, eyeing the grin he wore with uncertainty.

“ How would you know if there’s something between us?” She asked him, 

"You don't even know the man! " She told him, all in the same anxious voice that held just a touch of excitement.

"- But I know you," He shot back.

‘I know when you’re flustered. 

I know when you’re uncertain.

I know what the look in your eye means.’

'Where is he even getting all of this from,' She wondered helplessly, not understanding.

 "Playing with that kind of stuff isn't cool…” she then added, and at that, he huffed before chuckling, soon leaving her behind as he begun to walk.

 "I am known as a trickster, but a jest such as that would be tasteless, really.” He said while shaking his head, finding it shameful that she’d think he’d toy with her in such a manner.

"And here I was," He started, "Certain, that of all people, you'd know me best," He added with a small pout, eyeing her with pretty green eyes that guilted her with a sweet, gleam.

“Don’t do that to me,” She begged him, feeling miserable as he eyed her with the dejected look.

If there was anything that haunted her, it was the soft shine of his eyes when they were touched by sadness, no matter how small the graze was.

Even if he was just being playful, it hurt. 

“I’m sorry, “ She said with sincerity, “It’s just...how can you tell, you guys haven't even spoken a word?” she asked with with confusion.

 "How do you even know about him,?" She then added, itching to know just how he'd put it all together. 

"He was practically seething with rage (f/n)," The Asgardian informed her,  "A jealous man is easy to spot," He added, having felt each an every invisible dagger the man directed at him while maintaining his icy glare. 

"That doesn't explain anything!"  She blurted out.

"How do you even know him?... How to look for him? What his name was...?

...what I call him...

How do you know all of this?" She said while crossing her arms, fuming, wanting to know just why he'd known so much.

He then pinched the tip of her nose, the action causing her to glare at him, as he broke out into a grin,

“Oh all right,” He huffed, "It was Thor," he finally admitted, letting her know that he wasn’t all knowing.

"He came to visit in between our leave, " He informed her, "He went to see Jane Foster, and stopped by the facility," He went on, sighing at the thought.

" My brother then came back with the information," He revealed. "He was concerned about it, believing I needed to know because we..." He then trailed off, letting his words morph into a low breath.

"We what?" She asked him, watching his hesitancy, growing worried about it.

"- Because we're close friends." He answered her, offering her a halfhearted smile, the vague excuse nowhere near the true meaning behind their bond.

With a relieved breath, (f/n) then shook her head, " There's nothing to worry about," She mused, "Bucky is a good person, " She assured him, hoping she wouldn’t ever have to touch the subject again, because she didn’t like any shred of doubt when it came in regards to his mental health.

Even if it was out of concern, it felt insulting to be told to be careful, especially around someone she genuinely loved, which wasn’t all too different from the defensiveness she felt in regards to Loki himself.

"He's got some rough edges, but I think everyone does." She said with a comforting expression that held a smile of understanding.

‘Just like you and me silly,’ She thought to herself.

"So..." She started, holding a teasing tone within the single word, "were you actually that worried?" she questioned him, amused at the thought.

‘Is that why you brought me out here, to mother over me?” She asked him with a chuckle, finding it somewhat sweet.

Rather than answer her, he rolled his eyes, his hand reaching for hers, taking it before they crossed the street, making sure to keep her close and furthest from the moving vehicles,

'Why would you question it?' he wondered before he quickly rolled his eyes.

"Is that why you're here?" she continued to ask him cheekily, "To keep that bad boy away from me?" she then continued to ask.

the question made his grasp tighten, before they came to a stop, finally finding the emptied park.

Spotting at the empty swing sets, he then looked down at her, eyeing her with a mellowed gaze.

'If I have to,' He started, intent on keeping her at the same level of joy.

'It's impossible to stop them from coming close to you, ' He thought with helplessness, regarding her highly.

'However, it is not out of my power to pull them away, just before they reach you,' He went on.

'Winter soldier...' He inwardly seethed, ' If you want to get anywhere near my (F/n), you'll have to go through me first,' He added lowly, enjoying the night he had with her, stealing her away to enjoy for himself.

[okaywa]

*Between us

Iwaizumi x f!Reader x Oikawa 

Uuhhh... 2.2K words of pure filth. 

Breeding kink, threesome, degradation

Requested by: @kaaidalupita​

[Could I get NSFW Oikawa and Iwaizumi (poly) where the both have breeding kinks? thank you!]

You landed on the bed with surprised gasp and soft thump. Iwaizumi, usually more careful with you, stood at the end with a hungry glint in his eyes. Oikawa stalked into the room after him, slowly undoing his tie with a lewd smile. 

“Iwa-chan, gentle, gentle,” Oikawa hummed, fiddling with his cufflinks next. 

“You think she deserves gentle after the stunt she pulled?” Iwaizumi growled, loosening his own tie roughly. “C’mere.” 

You crawled forward, whimpering when Iwaizumi grabbed your wrists and bound them tightly. Oikawa chuckled, the soft to Iwaizumi’s rough. The perfect duo that was currently looming over you with wolfish grins. 

“You must think you’re pretty clever, hm?” Oikawa grabbed your chin, tilting your head from side to side to see your unblemished throat. Oh, he had plans for that. “Putting on a show like that.” 

“A show,” Iwaizumi snorted. “More like a fucking slutty spectacle.” 

“So crude, Hajime,” came Oikawa’s soft chastise.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes while his nimble fingers unbuttoned his shirt and undid his belt. His sharp green eyes didn’t leave yours as he undressed, smirking as your eyes hungrily took in his toned torso. Oikawa couldn’t resist leaning in and leaving open mouth kisses across Iwaizumi’s broad, muscled shoulders. You whined, wanting some of the attention. 

“Needy whores that act like a tease don’t get what they want,” Iwaizumi tilted his head to the side for Oikawa. 

Oikawa’s eyes locked with yours as he sucked a bruise into Iwaizumi’s tan skin. Maintaining the eye contact, he licked a broad stripe up Iwaizumi’s neck while his slender fingers pushed Iwa’s boxers down just enough to free his already straining cock. You moaned, thighs shifting while you watched Oikawa loosely fist Iwaizumi’s erection, giving it a few shallow pumps. Iwaizumi panted softly, letting his head fall back onto Oikawa’s shoulder. 

“Mm, she’s squirming,” Oikawa whispered into Iwaizumi’s ear. “Fuck, she’s so ready for us to take and breed her like the slut she is.” 

His vulgar words sent a thrill up your spine and fire licking through your stomach. Pleading softly, you shuffled forward to the end of the bed. 

“Want a taste?” Oikawa swiped his thumb through the pre-cum leaking from Iwaizumi’s flushed tip. 

“Yes, please. Please,” you begged, entranced by the sight in front of you. 

“Open your mouth, slut,” Oikawa practically leered. 

You opened your mouth eagerly, letting your tongue fall out as well. Oikawa stuck his thumb deep in your mouth, dragging the sticky mess from the very back of your tongue to the tip. 

“Well?” Iwaizumi asked roughly. 

“Tastes so good, want more,” you licked your lips. 

“So eager for us,” Oikawa crooned, giving a last jerk to Iwaizumi’s cock before moving back and undressing. 

Iwaizumi stepped forward and shoved you to your back. He flipped you to your stomach to unzip your dress, yanking it off unceremoniously. He growled when he saw you weren’t wearing a bra or panties. 

“Whore,” he spat, moving you to your back again while spreading your legs with a knock of his knee. “I’m surprised you were even able to make it back home considering how needy you were at Mattsun’s wedding.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whined. “Please fuck me, I need it so bad.” 

“Oh, sweetie, we will,” Oikawa’s voice promised right next to your ear. “Gonna fill you with our cum.” 

You twisted your head to look at him, surprised at his sudden close proximity. Damn guy moved like a cat. He claimed your mouth fiercely, shoving his tongue into your mouth at the same time Iwaizumi’s lips wrapped around your clit. Oikawa swallowed your gasp hungrily, tongue scraping along your teeth. 

“That’s right, get her nice and wet, Hajime,” Oikawa praised his boyfriend. 

Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed and the lashes of his tongue shifted from your clit to your entrance, probing enthusiastically. His eyes fluttered at the rush of slick from your core. Grabbing your thighs, he easily pulled them up and onto his shoulders so his tongue could reach even deeper. 

Oikawa was now carrying out his earlier plan of marking up your throat, his tongue hot against your rapid pulse. He had two fingers in your mouth to muffle your loud moans, his fingers gentle stroking your tongue. He would occasionally push them further just to make you gag so he could feel your throat flutter beneath his tongue. 

By the time he finished your throat was a wash of purples and blooming red, soon to be bruises. Iwaizumi was still between your thighs, one strong arm across your hips to keep them from grinding upwards. Your legs tightened around his shoulders as he expertly brought you to a quick orgasm. 

Iwaizumi drew back, licking his lips as he replaced his tongue with two fingers. He left a sharp bite on your inner thigh, stroking his fingers through your slick folds just to watch you squirm from the sensitivity. 

“Let me taste her,” Oikawa moaned, grabbing Iwaizumi by the back of his neck. 

Leaning across your body, Oikawa licked up your slick from Iwaizumi’s chin and the corner of his lips. He then grabbed the fingers that had been teasing your entrance and wrapped his lips around them, sighing as he cleaned them. 

“Fuck, you always taste so delicious,” he said appraisingly, reaching down to gently circle your clit.

“I get to fuck her first,” Iwaizumi grumbled, shoving Oikawa away by his forehead. 

“Iwa-chan! Maybe we should work on your manners next,” Oikawa scolded. 

Ignoring his boyfriend, Iwaizumi gripped your hips and twisted you over to your stomach.

“Up,” he tapped your hip. 

You followed the order quickly, scooting your knees forward until your ass was in the air with your shoulders still on the bed and your bound arms folded under your chest. Oikawa groaned at the sight, running his hand up your spine, from your tailbone to your shoulders. 

“So now you listen to me,” Iwaizumi tilted his head as he grabbed your ass with both hands, spreading you open. 

You flushed at being so vulnerable, whining into the sheets. 

“Hush,” Oikawa swatted lightly at your ass. 

“Can’t wait to see my cum oozing out of you,” Iwaizumi rumbled, grabbing his cock to guide the head to your entrance. 

Oikawa leaned in to watch, groaning in unison with Iwaizumi as he slid deep into your core. You fingers clenched in the sheets, moaning at the stretch and burn that always came with Iwaizumi’s thick cock. 

“Good girl,” Iwaizumi praised. “You take me so well even though I know it hurts.”

“I like it,” you gasped, pressing your hips back against him. 

Oikawa moved to sit in front of you, letting your head rest in his lap while Iwaizumi slowly worked you open with shallow thrusts. 

“She’s so tight, Tooru- hah!”

Oikawa groaned, grabbing his own cock to give it a few pumps before tapping your cheek.

“Open up for me,” he ordered. 

You let your mouth fall open, too focused on the drag of Iwaizumi’s cock against your sensitive walls. Oikawa hummed, drawing his leaking tip across your bottom lip before easing the tip past your lips. Unlike Iwaizumi, he wasted no time letting you adjust before pushing your head down until you gagged. Of the two males, Oikawa was easily the more sadistic one. He loved watching your eyes water and your nose scrunch at the sudden intrusion. 

“Perfect,” he purred, grabbing a fistful of your hair so he could easily control the bob of your head. After all, he had no intentions of wasting his cum in your mouth. 

Iwaizumi’s thrusts gradually sped up until he was slamming into you with each one. Every time his hips rammed into yours, your whole body would jerk forward causing you to gag on Oikawa’s cock. 

Oikawa ended up letting go of your hair, leaning back on his elbows since Iwaizumi was doing all of the work. You let out a choked moan when Iwaizumi grabbed your hips so he could pull you back to meet his harsh thrusts.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he gritted out with a slap to your ass.

You jolted away from the sting, choking yourself on Oikawa’s cock roughly. He reached down and undid the tie around your wrists, guiding your hands to rest on his thighs for more balance. Oikawa’s head fell back with a throaty groan and he lazily threaded his fingers through your hair. 

“That’s it,” he sighed, scratching your scalp. “Deeper, deeper- hah!”

Oikawa cut himself off with a breathy moan when you swallowed around his tip. His hips gave minute thrusts forward to barely nudge at the very back of your throat. 

“Ohh, sweetie, you look so pretty choking on my cock,” Oikawa crooned. “Look at those tears. Gorgeous.”

You whimpered at his praise, hands clenching on his toned thighs. He looked away from you, eyes catching on his partner. Iwaizumi gave a filthy grin and landed another slap on your ass, watching Oikawa’s face contort with pleasure when you groaned around his length. 

“You like that?’ Iwaizumi asked smugly. 

“God, her throat, Hajime,” Oikawa moaned. 

“Her cunt,” Iwaizumi countered, and punctuated his point with a forceful thrust. 

He shoved you further into Oikawa’s lap and curved over your back. Keeping one hand on your hip, Iwaiumzi splayed the other next to Oikawa’s thigh. He spread your thighs a bit wider before switching to short but deep thrusts. 

“Fuck, I can’t wait to cum inside your pretty cunt,” Iwaizumi growled. “Breed you, make you mine.”

You and Oikawa moaned together at Iwaizumi’s filthy words. Spurred on, Iwaizumi ground his hips into yours, switching his position so he could reach down and massage your clit. 

You pulled off of Oikawa, panting and letting out raspy moans until you suddenly squealed. Iwaizumi grunted when you clenched around him, velvety walls drawing his orgasm out of him before he could even warn you. Pressing close, he felt his tip nudge your cervix and gasped as he came in several spurts. The feeling of his hot cum inside you had you moaning desperately against Oikawa’s stomach. 

Iwaizumi pulled out slowly, admiring the mess he made of you with flushed cheeks. He couldn’t help but push his cum back into you when it started to leak out. 

“My turn,” Oikawa declared, gently rolling you to your back. 

Iwaizumi moved out of his way, flopping down next to you so he could claim your mouth. Oikawa suddenly stooped down, tongue pressed flat against you as he licked up Iwaizumi’s cum. You cried out, thighs clenching together reflexively. 

“You both taste delicious,” he murmured, brown eyes glinting slyly. 

“Smart ass,” Iwaizumi grumbled contentedly, kicking out at Oikawa, who pushed his foot aside easily. 

Oikawa gave a few last kitten licks before moving up your body, leaving a few open mouth kiss on your stomach and breasts on his way up. He kissed you sweetly right before thrusting his entire length into you in one go. 

You let out a sharp cry, legs wrapping around his hips.

“Oh, Tooru!”

Oikawa didn’t waste a moment, immediately setting a harsh pace. Iwaizumi guided your lips to his, eagerly swallowing your whimpers. 

“Iwaaa,” Oikawa whined. “I want to hear her!”

Iwaizumi pulled away, giving Oikawa a considering look. 

“How about I shut you up?” He negated, and pulled Oikawa in for a languid kiss, so at odds with Oikawa’s punishing thrusts.  

“Haah- ah! Tooru, right there!” You sobbed. 

Oikawa parted with Iwaizumi, watching you with a devious smirk as he rolled his hips, hitting that spot inside you perfectly and consistently until you were a blubbering mess. Your thighs quaked from the intensity of your third orgasm, eyes watering from the overwhelming pleasure.

Iwaizumi was content to lightly glide his fingers over your nipples, watching them harden with dark eyes. He leaned forward, capturing the closest one between his lips. Your eyes closed and your mouth dropped open in a silent moan, lost in the pleasure coming from both of the males. 

Oikawa cried out suddenly, hips slamming into yours one last time before you felt his cum flood your cunt. He gave a few rolling thrusts through the aftershocks before stopping and carefully laying himself on top of you. 

“You like that, huh?” He asked, wiping his thumbs under your damp lashes. “Being filled to the brim with our cum?”

“So much,” you agreed. 

Iwaizumi chuckled, letting a hand cup your lower stomach. “Mm, maybe it will stick this time.”

“You know I’m on the pill,” you said. 

“So?” Iwaizumi shrugged. “A guy can wish, can’t he?”

“My sperm is definitely stronger than yours, it would totally be mine,” came Oikawa’s muffled voice from your neck. 

“Ugh, you two are disgusting,” you scrunched your nose. “Get off, I’m gonna go shower.”

“Noooo,” Oikawa nuzzled into your neck. “Don't wanna pull out yet. ’S warm.”

Iwaizumi landed a solid swat to the back of his head. “Let her up, Nastykawa.”

“Y/nnnn, tell him to be nice!”

“I’m about to smack you too if you don’t move.”

“This is abuse,” Oikawa pouted, rolling off of you and landing on Iwaizumi instead. 

“Ew, I don’t want you,” Iwaizumi grunted.

Oikawa went completely limp, giggling as Iwaizumi struggled to push his deadweight off. 

“What use are those muscles if you can’t even-”

A solid thump and whine signaled Oikawa’s abrupt meeting with floor.