#pls don’t sit on his lap while u tell him about your day he’s already lifting ur shirt and popping one in his mouth like what is ur problem

[kiwanopie]

Sakusa just looks like he falls asleep with his big ass hand on ur tit. It’s not even sexual at this point he just does it cause he can. As soon as he scoots in behind you to get himself comfortable the first thing he does is slide his hand up ur shirt and grabs a handful before belting himself to your back and clocking out a second later. And it’s not even limited to the bedroom, sometimes he’ll just be on the phone and see you standing in the kitchen making a snack and you’ll just feel the bottom of your shirt lift a little before his fingers are dipping under the cup of ur bra. The guy isn’t even necessarily a tit man, he just does it because you’re his

[seungisms]

🖇️📁 𝐒𝐊𝐙 … 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff and so much dumbassary 

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: more stupid tiktok trends, hyunjin and minho being haters in the comments, shy!seung 🗣️🗣️🗣️ chan and felix being the most perfect boyfriends ever <3

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: based of this tiktok! (making me feel so single fr) so in love with this trend, i just had to write it! felix and jeongin are shorter than the rest cause i’m just one (dumb) woman and incapable of thought 👍 this took me like two hours to write please forgive if it's absolute dog. reblog for a kiss, feedback much appreciated!

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍

as we’ve already established this man is a whole ass boomer and doesn’t know what tf you’re talking about half the time

so when you come to him chatting away about another stupid tiktok trend he’s only half listening

humming along occasionally and going ‘that sounds fun sweetheart’ but as soon as the words ‘kissing trend’ hit his ears his interest is 📈📈📈 and you have his full attention

will be soso useless when you’re trying to find the right lipstick shade cause every time you ask his opinion he’ll just go

:) they all look pretty on you :)

and you’re just like chan that’s so cute and all but yOU’RE NO HELP RN

finds it so hard to concentrate while you’re leaving the lipstick stains all over his face cause you just look so cute giggling between every kiss and he’s so <333

just really wants to kiss you :( and gets all grumpy when you tell him to focus :( 

takes his role very seriously when the camera is on him though

will take your face in his hand after wiping away your lipstick smudge, turning your face towards him and this mf is looking at you all 🥺 with your red lipstick covering his face

and you’ve never seen a prettier sight

cue the comments going wild over how dreamy ur boyfriend is

and he just laughs straight in ur face when you get all huffy

the type to repost it all over his socials, like this tiktok will be his whole personality for the next three months 

probably has it pinned on his insta and linked in his bio or some shit 😭

down so bad and it shows

expect to be clowned in the comments by the rest of the guys

they just don’t wanna admit how cute the both of you are though <333

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐇𝐎

takes a good full week of nagging for him to finally give in

he just really likes to see u beg :(

will be soso moody at the start and sits on the edge of ur bed feeling sorry for himself as you choose out ur lipstick

and every time you ask him what colour you should use he’s just like ‘🙄 idc what you wear let’s just get this over with 🙄🙄’

and you would’ve punched him straight in the teeth if he wasn’t essential to ur plan 

pls he’ll literally melt once you sit on his lap and take his face between his hands

kissing you is definitely one of his fav hobbies so he’ll come around as soon as your pretty lips come in contact with his skin

will be all <333

you end up having to re-film it so many times cause this guy gets so carried away

every time you think he’s finally gonna do what you asked he just ends up planting his lips on yours again

you can’t even count the amount of times you had to reapply your lipstick cause this mf was busy kissing it off you

you’ll probably end up with so many drafts of the two of you just making out

you just look so pretty with your lipstick all smudged, he can’t help kissing you :(

will take a good hour of filming before this guys finally gets it right

cutest couple on the internet istg

gets so smug when he sees all the comments swooning over him the next day and you’re just like :/ stfu or else i’ll delete it 

if only they all knew how hard he made the whole process for you 😭

ends up being one of his fav videos 

so much so that’ll he’ll send it to everyone he knows and is like

heart, comment and share or die

thinks tiktok trends are stupid af but he doesn’t mind this one ig 🙄

𝐒𝐄𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍

down so bad that he’ll agree right away 

but you bet your ass he’s gonna be complaining the whole time about how he’s ‘putting his reputation on the line’ for you

but he’s sitting on your bed blushing, twiddling his thumbs and kicking his feet like a fucking teenage girl while you apply lipstick to your lips

suggests you kiss him on the lips first and you’re just like ‘yeah bro not gonna happen 🙄’ cause you j u s t know as soon as your lips meet his you’ll be pulled into making out with him for the next hour 

he’s just very bad at focusing on the task at hand so every time you plant a kiss on his face he’ll be chasing after your lips with his own and pouting all cutely when you refuse to kiss him

likes watching you reapply your lipstick 

ur just so pretty to this guy 

can’t stop fucking laughing when you finally get to it

when he sees his face in the mirror he’s like whAT HAVE YOU DONE?? THIS IS GONNA TAKE FOREVER TO WASH OFF????

and it’s like bRO STAY FOCUSED WE HAVE A TIKTOK TO FILM HERE

every time he turns your face towards him and you pan the camera over to him he’ll just go sdhisjdidjdAHAHAHAHA

and now half your drafts are just you shouting at him to f o c u s and hitting him with a pillow and he’s just cackling like an idiot 

you end up having to post one of those cause this mf is useless and can’t follow a simple trend 

first to comment is minho cause he has ur notifications on just to clown u

literally just a ‘look at these pussies’ and somehow it has 40k likes in three minutes

you’re surrounded by idiots  

𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍

your lipstick stain is his fav accessory so you bet he’s agreeing right away

doesn’t mean he’s gonna make it easy for you though

argues with you about what shade of lipstick you should wear

and has no problem taking his sweet ass time going through your shades

‘what colour lipstick do you think would suit me the most? 🤨’

‘bro idc you’ve been at this for the last half hour, just piCK ONE?!’

‘-idk i think pink will go with my hair the best but all the pink shades you have are ugly af’

‘istg’

probably records you while you’re leaving the kisses on your face and posts it

don’t be surprised when it ends up getting twice as much likes as your original tiktok :(

puckers his lips all annoyingly and makes kissy noises when you’re done with the rest of his face

and you’re just like 🙄 c’mere idiot 🙄

when you finally film the tiktok he takes is soso seriously that it gives you whiplash

swipes at the smudge stain all lovingly and turns your face towards him, thumb tracing over your bottom lip and eyes flickering between your eyes and mouth and you’re just like?????

how??? tf??? is this man able to turn from the most annoying brat you’ve ever met to an actual dream boat within the span of 10 seconds???

you have half a mind to post the bts just to show everyone what he’s really like (aka a little asshole)

just knows tiktok is gonna go crazy over you guys

and sure enough it’s filled with

‘you mean OUR boyfriend’ 

‘[name], where did you find him again? 🧐 for science ofc’

‘the smudges are meant to be all around his face [name] not just his lips 🙄🙄’

and he just comments ‘she can’t resist me guys <333’ just block his ass already 

𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆

nodding his head and agreeing before you even finish your sentence

‘hey babe, wanna film this kissing-‘

‘yes’

‘…bro i didn’t even tell you what we were doing??’

‘idc as long as i get to kiss you idc … i get to kiss you right!? … [name]?!’

very enthusiastic 

just likes showing you off so he gets really into it

picks out some random red shade cause it ‘brings out his eyes’ 🙄

and you’re like okay whatever but you can’t help but agree he looks so cute all smiley with your lipstick smudged all over his face 

gets distracted so easily 

demands you kiss him on the mouth before moving onto his face and before you know it you’ve just been making out for the last half hour

‘but jisung, what about the tiktok trend?’ ‘the what????’

goes back to kissing you cause he’s so love drunk and can’t think straight once he’s had a taste of your lips

good luck getting him off you

can’t keep a straight face while you’re filming istg

knows the actual trend doesn’t involve kissing but as soon as he swipes your little smudge stain away and turns your face towards him he just finds himself leaning in again

and the rest of the tiktok is just him giggling against your mouth

and before you can even think about cutting that part out he’s already posted it

all the comments are so in love then there’s just hyunjin with ‘🤮🤮’

his lockscreen is 100% a selfie of the both of you covered in lipstick stains

one of his fav videos ever and will have no problem shoving it in peoples face out of nowhere

‘hey jisung, haven’t seen you in awhile-‘

‘yeah that’s great hahaha, loOK AT THIS VIDEO ME AND [NAME] FILMED, ISN’T SHE THE CUTEST??? LOOK AT HER?? LITERAL LOML???’

‘…’

so whipped for you and this trend didn’t help that fact

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗

probably the one to suggest it tbh

saw it on tiktok one day and was like ‘…me and [name] would slay this’

you only agree to do it cause he’s so cute when he’s excited over smth <333

looks up at you so 🥺 as you kiss all over his face

hold his chin in your hand and he’ll melt

forgets the trend as soon as your soft lips make contact with his skin and can’t help but kiss you every now and then while you’re marking his face 

can’t keep the smile off his face when you’re recording and he looks so damn lovesick and whipped for you that it breaks tiktok for a good week

all the comments will be

‘he’s so in love with her 😭’

‘wish my boyfriend would look at me the way felix looks at [name] 💔’

‘girlie pls drop a tutorial on where to find a guy like this 🙏’

definitely the type to forward it to everyone he knows

and their mother

probably becomes his lockscreen and everytime he holds his thumb against the screen and replays it he’s just so :)

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍

acts like it’s so inconvenient to him and his life 

but really he’s so giddy at the mere thought of your pretty lips all over him

won’t catch him admitting it though

when you first ask him he’ll just be like

🤨 no?? i’m not doing that?? 🤨

and when you say ‘oh okay i’ll just get jeongin to do it with me’ he’s straight into fight or fight mode and hot on ur tail

sitting all >:( on your bed as you go through your makeup looking for a good shade 

but he’s blushing so hard and fiddling with his fingers cause he always gets so shy when he’s about to kiss you

another to try to chase your lips when you’re leaving your lipstick mark over his face 

and you’re just like

‘SEUNGMIN HOW ARE WE MEANT TO DO THIS IF YOU’RE TRYING TO MAKEOUT WITH ME EVERY FIVE SECONDS???’

‘excuse me?? i think i deserve some compensation for agreeing to this dumb trend?’

punch him

right in his pretty face

pls

falls in love with the sight of your lipstick stains all over his face and can’t stop looking at himself in the mirror cause the shape of your lips is just so pretty

but as soon as you catch him smiling at himself in the reflection he’ll go straight from :) to >:( again

has to keep his little tsundere act going you know

surprisingly focused when you get to it 

only takes you around three tries before you get the perfect shot

(he just wanted you to hurry tf up so he could finally makeout with you)

comments go wild 

and he’s just like ‘see, told you the people loved me’

and it’s like ‘bRO YOU DIDN’T EVEN WANNA DO THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE???

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍

so shy

plays it off though and tries to act cool but really he’s melting on this inside

looks into the mirror every time you leave a kiss on his face and is like 

:) you missed a spot :)

but really he just wants you to keep kissing him

before you know it his whole face is stained in your lipstick

takes a good hour before you can even start to think about filming

he’s just too pretty and distracting

especially when he’s looking at you all 🥺 with his lips puckered

gets so nervous once you whip out your phone to record and doesn’t know what tf to do

‘okay … what’s the plan again? does my hair look stupid?? do i look directly into the camera or-‘

gonna have to talk him through this one 😔✊

probably needs a full step by step tutorial to get though this stupid trend 

once he gets it down though he’s a natural

tilting his head all cutely after swiping away the lipstick smudge and smiling at you with so much love that it almost made you forget about the recording 

can’t help but kiss you anyway and it makes tiktok go wild <333

changbin probably sends it into the group chat not even a full minute after it’s posted and clowns tf out of you two

© 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐦𝐬 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.

[redraven393]

Cathing up with Philza Minecraft streams 15th 06

Where:

WHOOOO IS THE BIRTDAY DAY

We sit

STOP making Brian says anything Spanish, he is awfully British

Who apple gang-Yeah Crows go bake a cake for our gurl Tallulah

Excited for the birthday lets goo

4 years of being a menace in the old man’s stream sounds like an achievement

We just waiting but Short stream today, I guess?

Yay farming- Opp secret can’t see I guess

A zombie horse man???? In the farm

No comment on who he supports

TALLULAH AWAKE HAPPY birthday Tallulah

Happy dance for the birthday gurl

Silly abuelitto

Chayanne has been having to many fun with scaring the old man

Did you have the goods Chayanne??

Yay celebrate ur self gurl

Mexican bingo

Abuelitto is struggling for kids

Oopp Chayanne dipped

Coolx5 yesyesx3 awesomex5 Lets goo

Aww the pinata-A Petting ZOO-Ooh special mob

Whoahhh-What are they???-Funky squirrel horse??-STARWARS-What are they srsly????

A PHOTOBOOTH

Ah shit-The server crached-IN HER BIRTHDAY THAT’S FUK UP QSMP

QUACKITY PAYY THE SERVERRR

Education on how the server works from Phill

EYYY WE BACK

USE your MEME correctly

Ohhh show us-MANUAL PHOTOBOTH

Strong horse-AWW THEY KISSED-Give them time

Glad Tallulah love them

HOLYYY SHITTT A VENUSSS

“GO HAVE KIDDS I WANT GRANDKITS-“ oh god he is embracing the granpa experience

Yeah, you go Phil don’t listen to anyone

Invis Chayanne

VENUS 0.4 LETS GOO wait A CLONE???

Ohh a different name Mercury or Pluto

Chayanne keeps using Tallulah’s signs

Its baffeling to see a tinny kid with a butterfly wings pullingout an anvinl out of her pockets

Omg the big hat Lol

PINATA POG

The FOODS

BALLON LANTERNS PURPLE

Ohhh surprise

The guest is cominggg

Dancingggg

Phil likes to spoil his kid but clearly, he is as spoiled as well to them

No fight and no drinks for the violents

ETOILES is HERE

Give the babby a bath????

Aww no more animals??

More Europeans are coming

Oh wait why is there another face inside DeMezzanine???He already has 4???

BAGHERAA

While phill is bussy taking photo Tallulah is receiving many gifts

Ohgod its so loud

FOREVERR

HELLO RICHAAA

Everyone is so excited for Chayanne’s food

POMME HELLO

The Blond Twins are taking picture so cute-COCAINNE???

Oh god the Photobooth is so busy

Oh no the Spit horses are angry- MIKE DOWN MIKE DOWNN

Why is there a couple drama in the party?

OMG POMME?? An exploding chicken and a fox died poor girl

Forever is an average dad with a feral son and Oh, big brother Chayanne is joining forever to tell Richa to wear armor

FOOD IS READYY

AWWW CUTE ART FROM RICHAAA Richa is so talented omg

Omg the DRAMA is still going-STOP fighting-Good lord

Sit in someone’s lap” he says and Omg of course forever take any chances he got with Phill

OMG FOREVER NOT AT THE TABLE?!! YEAH GO OFF ON HIM BAGHERA

He’s a month old he is mature enough

Opp Phill is gone- DADDDD WHERE ARE YOU???- ohno he’s getting milk isn’t he??

Oh hey Sneeg glad u watching the stream too

SHUSHIII

Why is everyone sitting on Phill’s lap omg

Aww Thanks PAC

Glad everyone appreciates Chayanne’s cooking

Ohhh??? The Europeans and the Brazilians are singing for Tallulah??-that is sweet

CAKEEE

FOREVER DON SAY THAT ABOUT RICHA-well he is a little brat-

Oh god someone already died-BAGHERA WHY?

Selfie-Guitar-good job Tallulah-aww nooo

Chayanne is such a teenager-GO SOSIALIZE YOU KID

Is Pomme being tained to be an Agent or a security guard like Etoiles

OMG PHILZAA IS KICKING OUT THE GUEST

OH SHIT THEY FIGHTING-they want foo-OMG the TUPPERWARE-Yaeh that where is the drinks PHILL??

Ending party song-omg mike pls

The REVOLUTION-COMMUNISM???-YEAH use your Grand Daughter

MIKE is hilarious

Pac jut want food and then dipped

PHIL IS GOTH

Oh god “never call me again” omg MIKE

Oh did Pac gave Tallulah more Flowers??

Pachito the security

Oh shit he stole a bike-wait Phill had a bike?

Ohh the surprise-

OMGG-HOLLY SHIT IS WILL’S CONCERT-AWW-FUCK IM CRYIN- SHIT MY HEART-

Hey Baghera

But anywayOMG-IM STILL CRYINGGG-THAT IS SO SWEET

Omg Baghera nooooo-I mean its fair- the French literally got here by a crashed plane-BUT STILLL

AWW Tallulah baby-opp where she goin?-AWWW TALLULAH BABY DON’T CRYY

Oh it’s Pomme Birtday too?? Wow thereis so many celebrations this month holly shit

BYE POMME BYE BAHERA TAHNKYOU FOR COMING

HEY MUMZA

THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR COMING

Its okk Tallulah-lol I think mike is salty

Ohh gift from Chayanne-let em cook-omg Phill noo-FOOD and OMG a KITTY :D

Chayanne is really living the best doting big brother life rn

THANKYOU FOR THE GIFT POMME- Candy apple and Golden Apple nice-OH SHIT a RED EARED SLIDER- LEONARDO ITS YOU!!!

Quest time-ohhhh it’s horse themed- oh yeah the skelehorse isi still there-

OMG THE FAN ARTS ARE SO COOOL-ok why is the soft shell so aggressive??-cute fan arts- someone is dying wth??

ARTIST WATER MARK YOU CREATIONS PLS I WANT TO FOLLOW UU

The turtles are so many they keep on dying-omg Chayanne nooo- oh well a chef needs their ingredients

YESYES POG BIRTHDAY-Chayanne did so good with the foods-opp did they killed one?

BEST FATHER AND SON DUO

Opp nerd Dadza moment-might want to read that one-Philzaa noooo.

Omg PHILZA NOOOO-Purge the turtles-ill hire a guy he says

JUAN

OMG CHAYANNE NOOO

New horse near foolish

Phil knows these kids so well- see you there Chayane-opp another Minecraft tip from dad-HOLLY SHIT U FAST-opp bye Chayanne

I love the little songs that Phill will randomly sings out at random

Omg Phill- perks of having the main admins as your kid is that you can have more leeway on quest-

Roleplay omg-WHOAH AMAZINGGG THEY REALLY CRAFT IT :O

THE MAIN ADMIN CHAYANNE/CUCURUCHO PERMISSION IT OKKK??!!!- its magic Tallulah get in with the system

Omg Chayanne noooo-plant based meat

Tallulah u set them free to be killed bye a seasoned chef

BOAT TIME- OH Shit VENUUUS (or Mercury???)

Mushroommm yummy

Thankyu Tallulah

WEDDING TOMORROW POGG

GRANDPA IS GOING ON VID CON

Pro Chef Chayanne- omg Chayanne nooooo

Everyone is going to vid con oh god

It most definitely won’t be avocado toast- Taco and Strawberries.

OVERDOSE DON’T STOP THE MUSIC DARLING-

MUMZAAAA- mango pog-ohh FUK YEH

Phil’s cooking-OHH SHIT A GOD APPLE POGG-ohh chorus fruit-wait it didn’t worked????Endermen with low signal-RP at the most minimal-THANKS MUMZAAA

HORSE RIDNG TIME YEY- is the bridge new???

OHH ITS STARTINGGG

��dad are you running for President??” Sweety your father is an anarchist- purely to piss of the federation

YEAH TECHNO WOULD BE PROUD O7 KING

THAT’S CHEATINGGG-okk Naruto run is fair-Yeah judge the old man Tallulah

Chayanne nooooo

BATH TIMEEEE-SLEEPY TIMEEE- the EFFICIENTSY WHOAH- Art room Progress POG- ohh WINE before BED TIME???

HOLLY FUCK-been aging before he was born WHOAHH-wat was that?

ADMIN POG- they the best really-ADVANCE TASTE BUD-PHOTOS PLS OR WE EMPTY YOUR POCKET

It would be funny-COOK FOR THEM IN HELLL-THANKYU PHILL- Chayanne Hell’s kitchen-

GRACIAS TALLULAH- stop using other kids sign Chayanne!!!

WHAT ARE YOUU-aww Phil might not come

Lol Rycharlison is stream sniping- maybe his version of Dragon magic

BYE PHIILLLLLLLLL

[slay0368]

🎀🫶🏼 sanzu haruchiyo and his relationship with fem reader🎀🫶🏼

MINORS GET THE FUCK AWAY

Shitty writing,not proofread,sanzu brain rot

Warnings-anger issues,smut,size kink,hate fucking,slut shaming,sanzu being a dilf, ALL THE CHARACTERS ARE ABOVE 20,enemies to lovers.Yeah I think that’s about it

Sanzu haruchiyo

When mikey first introduced you as bontens new number 4 he saw you as a slut and nothing more but over the weekend he saw you with another man on his lap,laughing and giggling like theirs no end LET ME TELL YOU HARUCHIYO SAW RED. So it’s casual to say by the next day the guy who you were sitting on was gone ,done and dusted all together.

Eventually you and sanzu had to share a room for a mission and as you thought he went out and wouldn’t be back till like 6 hours later you whipped out your trusty vibrator NOT KNOWING THAT SANZU THERE HAD PLANTED CAMERAS TO WATCH YOU FUCKING CAMERAS 😇😇😇😇😇😇

So he planted them to catch you like tripping over or to catch your embarrassing moments but as soon as he opened the cameras he saw you using a bullet vibrator and let me tell you he turned the car around so fucking fast and sped to the house /villa passing all the red lights and as soon as he reached he barged in almost breaking the door and he low key says “having fun without me sweetheart?” While smirking. I AM DEAD. Y/n “fuck” “oh no honey I’m gonna fuck you now” when sanzu said those words she gasped and her mouth fell open when she saw him taking out his dick and let me tell you he was big- “sanzu I don’t think it’ll fit” “oh sweetheart I’ll make it fit”

and when he sees your expression he puts on his smug smile “ bigger than you expected right but you’re a big girl you can take it right?” It wasn’t a question and you knew “now use your big girl words and tell me what you want slut”

The look on his face when you tell him your a virgin- he was grinning like a mad man (I meaannnnn he already is one- 🥰😇🤡 )

“Awww my poor slut never had dick in her life huh don’t worry I’m gonna help with that”he said while scissoring you open with his long fingers and as you get wet enough he lines the tip of his cock and runs it up and down your slit “if you really want this dick then beg for it whore” as embarrassing the scene would’ve been sanzu enjoyed seeing your flushed face while begging him to fuck you like the whore you are “ please sanzu I want you to make me feel good I promise I’ll be a good girl” that was enough for him to push inside you slowly since he was kind enough to see that your a virgin

“Sanzu it hurts,hurts s much” you try to say but sanzu just sushes you and says “your the one begging for this dick right? Then take it like a good whore”

As he bottoms out blood can be seen dripping underneath both of them staining the white sheets. As he starts to move at a rough pace you cry at him to stop but he just moves faster “oh what was that? You want he to go fast right then here” “sanzu gonna cum” you say as you cream in on his cock but he maintains his speed, as you get overstimulated sanzus thrusts are getting sloppier and your about to have your 5-6? Orgasm damn you were too dumb on his cock to count “ gonna cum inside you slut, that’s all your good for” as his pace falters “you love being treated like this don’t you” as he cums inside you as you milk every last drop from his balls

“Damn you okay?” “Yea didn’t take you for the caring type tbh” as he cleaned you up and gave u food and cuddles “your mine from now on got that?” While cuddling you “I was always yours haru” you said while cuddling him deeper

The night ended with you both naked and cuddling until the next morning when rindou found you both cuddling under the covers at 10 am when they should be ready for the mission-

OKAY THATS ALL FOR NOW THANKS FOR READINGGGGG

Pls reblog and like!

ITS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SORRY IF ITS A BIT YK-

[sanjisblackasswife]

Monster Trio with a Black Girlfriend Headcanons (NSFW-ish)

A/N: this is like so long…like..wtf..

Luffy

our Brazilian King here would be the most fun to be with ngl. Being in a relationship with him is no different than being his friend really. The only difference is being a bit more touchy and protective.

He literally loves everything about you from your hair, shape, and just who you are as a person

He loves giving you his hat btw. Especially when you show off your natural hair

Speaking of natural hair…

Probably one of the funniest things that has happened in your relationship is when you take out your braids for the first time.

Ok picture this: Nami just announced it will be getting colder in the next few days as y’all set sail and it’s about that time you want to take out your braids and be natural while it’s cold.

So, You’re in your room as everyone is minding their business and Luffy barges tf in looking for you if you wanted to play tag.

Mf loses his mind seeing the braiding hair all over the place pls

“Y/N YOURE BALDINGGGGGG!!???”

“What? NO I AINT BALDING ITS FAKE HAIR!”

Pls calm this man down he is running all over the ship looking for Chopper

After a good kick from Sanji and Nami you drag him back to your room with your hair now half braided and half a fro to explain to Luffy that you’re not losing hair or balding it’s just fake extensions.

He’s still lost but he’s a good sport about it.

He actually sees your real hair for the first time, it was pretty short when you first met him but you stayed in braids for so long you managed to get a lot of new growth.

Luffy has sparkles in his eyes seeing how pretty and healthy it is(not in a weird way but seriously whether u had a TWA or long curly hair it was all pretty to him)

He also loves your thighs heh

Before you two dated Luffy was already close with you in friendship and very touchy too.

There have been many times you have just been chilling on the ship with Robin and Luffy comes in, put his hat on your head, and takes a quick nap on your lap.

You have gotten ALOT of spit in between your thighs due to this

Don’t worry he also makes a mess of your thighs when y’all are in bed together

Ok lemme put some angst:

We all know OP isn’t afraid to tackle issues like human trafficking and even racism so imagine you and Luffy are in a pretty bad town and encounter some rude racist mfs.

So you and Luffy are grabbing a bite to eat when two idiots in the restaurant come barging in demanding drinks.

The waitress tells them they’ll have to sit at a table but they seen you and Luffy sit at a booth and pointed

“Why don’t you get those two to give up their seats?…the boy and…that person…people like her don’t deserve to even sit in an establishment like this.” And the man had his thumb pointed back towards you.

His tone was so disgusted and to further insult he made his statement known LOUDLY that a girl like you shouldn’t be in a place like this.

“Excuse you?” You muttered looking at the two men in front of you and Luffy.

Luffy wasn’t dumb, he only found out recently after you both started dating the heavy racism people tend to have towards black people which caused Luffy to be a bit more over protective over you.

. Luffy did sit and watch the men’s movements and words, because he knew you could defend yourself, however racist idiots always managed to take it too far and then your sweet boyfriend jumps to action.

“What do you mean ‘a girl like me!?’”

“Do i have to spell it out for you?! YOU’RE A N—“

Immediate knock out.

Broken noses, ribs, you name it Luffy went tf off on them racist jackasses

Your hand barely touched your weapon before Luffy punched the daylights out of said man.

It was actually kind of hot because his hat was covering his eyes.

“Idiots.” Luffy grumbled walking out the restaurant . He took your hand and a piece of meat in the other hand mumbling something about them being bastards.

Long story short after Luffy tossed the men up and down the street so well you ended up giving him the OL sloppy toppy as a thank you that night.

Speaking of sloppy toppy let’s get into the NSFW part of your relationship:3

First off he has seen plenty of naked women. But yours is just better

He don’t know if it’s your shape not being the same as other girls or your skin or just the way you smell but he enjoys staring at your naked body and bending it im crazy positions as if you were made of rubber too during sex

You’re always more sore after one round of sex with him rather than actually fighting marines Sksjsksks

You of course initiated sex with Luffy first after a few months of dating and you were the one to take his virginity (he took yours as well). He was kinda awkward about it though because stuff like that wasn’t something he cared to do.

However, you both got into the oral sex part and goodness he fell in love with you after that.

Luffy has a huge oral fixation so he doesn’t mind going down on you

He actually likes it more than screwing you im sorryejsjhsjdsk

Not that it doesn’t feel good being inside you

Poor boy started crying and moaning so loudly cuming inside you for the first time

It’s just you have a very interesting and addictive taste

His words not mine

He also really likes staring at your pussy Abseiskjdhdj NO JUST HEAR ME THOUGH—

Like when he is eating you out sometimes he just stares at how his tongue is rolling and lapping up your clit he forgets that you probably came at least 2 times :((((

It’s just so nice to look at to him especially if you have a fatter ….cat.

Loves burying his face in your neck pls.

You smell like shea butter and cinnamon the man is so addicted to your smell.

I feel like Luffy doesn’t have a favorite body part your thighs

But he loves rubbing his cock between your thighs as you both sleep .

Literally they’re so soft and warm especially after taking a bath.

Speaking of baths you managed to get him to take more baths

ONLY IF you take one with him.

Usually ends with him screwing you in the tub and y’all get more dirty than clean sksjsjsjs

All in all he loves you sm

Sanji

This man deserved the best head ever omg.

Luckily he has you and your beautiful lips<3

Ngl Sanji is the type of dude to call you his “Black Queen” IM SO SORTEUEKDJSJ

Literally any corny black girl “compliment he can think of he’d say it to you.

“Y/NNNNN MY BEAUTIFUL EBONY PRINCESS I MADE YOU SOME TEA!”

:(….hes trying.

None the less you being his first official girlfriend actually was more work than you thought.

Yes he’s very charming, sweet, honest, giving etcetc but his jealousy sometimes wears you out.

Anytime you two go out together and another man drools—let alone comments your looks Sanji’s already lifting his foot .

He didn’t believe you actually liked him back at first :(((((

Poor baby, he has trust issues. Pls give him all your attention.

It doesn’t take long though for him to accept you actually do love him just as much (if not more) as he loves you.

Said “I love you” on the first date

Threw you off completely, but it was so sweet and quick so you said it back.

A few of your love languages with each other is most definitely quality time and acts of service.

When there is an off day with the crew you and Sanji spend the day cooking meals you grew up with

I.E. whether it’s from your culture (like Nigerian food) OORRR simple soul food baby he is ganna FLIP. Especially if you cook it for him to try!

“Okay so this is Mac and cheese, fried chicken, greens, & corn bread. I didn’t make a whole lot because I wasn’t sure—Sanji?”

His whole world is rocked.

The seasonings, the flavor, the texture, everything that you just cooked was something he will put on his “new favorite food list”

“PRINCESS THIS IS SO DELICIOUS I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU COOK SO WELL!”

He asked to marry you.

He ask to marry you at least once a day

That’s actually how y’all started dating heheh

When he first met you, you were actually intimidating to him but not in a bad way SKSJSJS

He still fawned and drooled over you, but you nearly thought he didn’t find you attractive because even when you joined his heart eyes was still on Nami more than you.

Even after Robin joined after you he seemed to stir his attention to the two girls more than you.

Granted you felt like it was probably because you weren’t his type, you didn’t have those girl’s shape(for example if you’re pear shaped) your hair wasn’t like theirs, and you were a bit more of a tomboy than anything so it made you feel a bit insecure.

Or maybe the mf didn’t like black girls who knows KSHSHSJS

Complete opposite tho this man is a whore for black women

It only annoyed you because somehow you’ve grown a crush on the idiot.

However all those things were the reason why Sanji felt so intimidated + you’re incredibly strong willed and ain’t afraid to speak your mind and that’s what made you so much more attractive to him than another other woman he met.

And you do so one night while Sanji cleans up the kitchen.

You knew this was a bad idea, a bit cringe, and out of character but the curiosity was eating at you and you knew if you didn’t ask right then and there you may as well just get over your crush with him; “How come you don’t like me?” You said without a care in the world leaning on the door frame arms crossed pouting, Sanji recognized your voice and felt his soul drop a little hearing your crazy question.

“Don’t… Like …you?”

“You heard me. It’s not like I’m jealous or anything (you were) but…I don’t know it seems like when I want to hang out with you, you seem to be more interested in Robin or Nami to be around…I know I don’t wear dresses a lot or skirts…and I’m a bit rough around the edges but …as your crew mate…AND FRIEND…I…um….I…”

You didn’t even hear Sanji approach you so closely as your tangent was going on with your eyes not meeting his. He felt so bad making YOU feel bad.

He grabbed your hand rubbing the palm of it with his thumb.

“I’m…im so sorry, Princess i—I um…”

Que the dramatic music

“I AM SO SORRY M’LADY! YOU DESERVE TO BE TREATED LIKE THE QUEEN YOU ARE I CANT BELIEVE I MADE YOU FEEL SO ABANDONED BY YOUR PRINCE! PLEASE FORGIVE ME—MATTER OF FACT NO DONT FORGIVE ME I DONT DESERVE IT!”

“Sanji..”

“I PROMISE TO NEVER HURT YOU AGAIN—“

“Sanji…”

“I’LL DO YOUR LAUNDRY, COOK ALL YOUR FAVORITE MEALS, ANYTHING TO—“

You actually found it amusing seeing how much of a drama queen he was asking for you not to forgive him, and you’re a big softie for him so to shut him up you grabbed him by his nape and kissed him.

His lips were so soft omg

“Marry me.”

“HUH?!”

And that’s how I met your mother

Ok we finna get spicy over here

Sanji is a boob man. We know this. And because of this he loves seeing your boobs ALOT.

“They’re like chocolate kisses.”

You nearly started crying from laughter when you let Sanji fondle your chest.

“Do not say that again will slap you—AH!”

Too late Sanji popped a whole titty in his mouth.

Ngl after a few months of dating and gaining each others trust he started to become a bit OOC.

Meaning….in the bed.

At first he’d ask you repeatedly if you felt good having sex with him, but now that he knows your body…well..

“R-Right right there San—-JI YES!”

“I know baby I know..”

Tf this boldness come from

Ok so you took his virginity too. It was just a Process because Sanji kept bleeding on you.

Had to use a blindfold on him which really had him cuming in seconds.

He sometimes moans in French.

Maam…

He moans in French in your ear and you slowly grind on his cock

“S-SA—-“

“Tu te sens si bien sur ma bite”

HOHOOO I GATTA MAKE A SHORT DRABBLE OF THIS

You find his French accent so sexy

Cocky bastard knows it too so if you are acting like a bit of a brat he whispers in your ear some of the dirtiest things he wants to do to your body in French

You don’t even know what he’s saying it just sounds hot KabsjsKSBSKS

Sanji most definitely loves to finger you.

Great past time when you both are alone and you wear a short dress or skirt

Your pussy>>>>>>>>>>>>life is his whole mentality being with you in bed.

When it’s your hair wash day Sanji always invites himself to help you, but it always starts off with him helping washing your hair, then once he rises it he begins kissing your shoulder, then your spine and then next thing you know he lifting your pretty brown thigh on his shoulder kissing and eating your pussy under the hot shower head <3

He keeps those days marked on his calendar SKSJSJ

Zoro

I told y’all he wasn’t racist

Mf is a simp for black and Latina women too he just won’t admit it fr.

This mf here..

He mf adores and can’t stand you all at the same time

Seriously your little smart remarks is ganna be the death of him.

Zoro actually loves a feisty/strong woman. He’s usually around the girly girl types plenty but seeing a woman that isn’t afraid of fighting grown men 10x her size is what led Zoro to pursue you

However he didn’t know he had a crush on you you were the one to get it out of him💀💀

“Why don’t you admit you like me already? We could have been dating like…a week after I joined y’all.”

“What?! I don’t— !”

“You’re literally cuddling me, Zo…”

When you first joined shortly before Chopper you both automatically had a love/hate relationship.

You were a gunslinger and he was a swordsman there were plenty of debates on which was better

“At least I can still fight if I run out of bullets..”

“At LeAsT I DonT RuN ou—-shut up! If it came down to it and we ended up fighting I’ll whoop you so disrespectfully boy..”

“YOU WHAT?!”

Me and Mrs. Petty everyone <3

You both tend to argue a lot but it’s stupid arguments that you start because you love annoying him.

And he knows this.

Zoro also likes patting your butt

It’s never sexual—you’re the sexual being in the relationship (we’ll get to that later)

But Zoro loves your fat butt.

Literally. The man is a butt man.

The way you sway your hips when you walk and how your butt effortlessly moves has him staring for way longer than he should.

And you know this.

However he usually pats your butt to get your attention

“Common we head to head to the ship.” He stated in your ear walking past you giving your bum a light slap and slowly dragging away said hand off your bum.

It turns you on sm pls

Loves to nap on your tummy

Looks like a grumpy baby with his strong arms around you and his face slightly tucked in with his eyebrows furrowed

He usually lift up your shirt to have skin to skin contact

Sniffs your hair a lot

Don’t know why he does it but sometimes when he’s standing behind you he just lowers his head and does a subtle whiff

You don’t question it….you kinda wanna though.

He lets you hold and use his swords

You have threatened him with it…many times.

Also if you have a TWA(or any natural hairstyle really) or like finger waves of the sort he friggin loves that. Whenever he’s holding you he tends to run his rough fingers through your curls and sometimes helps pull out any kinks he may randomly find

You woke up to him one time eyes completely focused on a tangled curl you had

It was so cute

“Zo—-?”

“Lay back down im not finished.” He pushed your head back down gently still taking out the curl.

Despite that Zoro really has no clue on how to be a proper boyfriend sometimes so you have to teach him.

A lot.

“Why would you randomly want flowers where would you put them?”

“ITS THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS YOU ASS.”

He’s trying.

Y’all never go on proper dates though.

Zoro doesn’t think it’s necessary, you both spend a lot of time together training or when you dock on a ship.

However if you REALLY wanna go on a date he’ll take you.

Ended up in a mess.

You both got lost.

Zoro was fighting random pirates

You shot a guy

Y’all fell down a hill because Zoro slipped and grabbed your arm

Never again

His dick makes up for all his stupidity though

Okay don’t get mad…

But I don’t think Zoro is as great with sex as y’all say he is OKAY JUST LISTEN TO MEJDJDDKSKS

I do believe he can LEARN HE IS A GOOD AND FASTER LEARNER

But it took so long because he’s so easily flustered.

Just like Sanji and Luffy he was a virgin and you had a bit more experience.

You went down on him first and he was actually more embarrassed than turned on KSBSJDKS

But he just felt weird seeing you in between his legs damn near gagging on his cock. You liked it though.

“Are —-are you okay?”

“Mmhm. Why does it not feel good?” :(

“No ! I mean yes! IT DOES! DAMMIT YES YOUR MOUTH FEELS GOOD!—“

When Zoro first slid inside you you swore his eyes rolled back and he swears you were just seeing things.

“Feel good don’t it.”

“Shut the hell up.”

No but after the 2 years he definitely got much better and bigger

He knows how to read your faces on what hurts and what feels good and it’s honestly something he pats himself on the back for.

He loves it when you sit on his face btw.

You’re thick, he’s thick , and he loves your thickness so sit on his thick head. Both of em

Remember how I said you were the more horny one of the relationship?

Not true he is but you’re more vocal about it.

“Zoooooo….I wanna sit on your face.”

Man nearly drops his dumbbells on his foot.

“What is wrong with you?!” Literally been craving to eat you out all day since he had a dream about it this morning though.

His tongue…..

Whew

My mans is a messy eater

VERY MESSY AND AGGRESSIVE TOO

You like how he manhandles you so it’s not a big deal but if anyone were to see him eat you out they’d think he’s literally EATING YOU

He loves holding you up on his shoulder to eat you out btw

You’ve been caught once by Usopp in the aquarium with you back high on the wall and him sucking your clit

Us couldn’t speak to you for weeks

Zoro didn’t give af

Ok he did a little because his dick was out

Amazing bf.

[miekasa]

mie….could we please get college au eren headcanons👉🏽👈🏽

Of course. I’m always thinking about his big head anyway <33 might as well put it good use.

One thing he learned in college is how to make his hyperfocus/fixation episodes work for him; that’s why he schedules all his classes as close together as possible. He’d rather have class back to back for 5 hours, than have it spread out with hours in between lectures, because that increases his changes of cutting.

You can always tell when he’s in class and/or what class he’s in by how much he responds to your messages. If he doesn’t text back at all, he’s in a class that hard or one he enjoys, or both. But if he’s sending you iMessage games, then you know he’s in his elective that he couldn’t care else about (and is probably cheating in someway somehow lmfao). 

He usually puts his phone on dnd when he’s in a class that’s important, but you’re in his favorite contacts, so your messages always ring through. What if it’s an emergency and you need him for something? Advanced Roots of Human Biology can wait. 

Some days there are one or two our breaks between his lectures, that’s just how the scheduling works out. When that happens, he usually sneaks into one of your lectures, or goes to your place to take a nap. Your roommates have become accustomed to him, honestly they’ve been considering giving him a key. 

Once, he didn’t realize that your lecture was basically a seminar, with you, the prof and maybe six other students. He still stayed lmao, and the prof was so amazed by his dedication, that she didn’t even mind. Occasionally, you’ll catch the two of them talking after lecture. It’s pretty cute the way she’s adopted him into the class even tho he’s not on the roster. 

You... have to show him where the library is lmfao. He genuinely has not stepped foot in one until you bring him to one. He likes it tho lmao once he gets used to it. 

Speaking of which, do not give him standard directions to find your classes on campus because all you’ll get is, “Babe, I’m gonna keep it real with you, I’ve never heard of the ‘West Quad’ a day in my life. What building are you near.”

He usually comes to see you in the library after all his lectures are done for the day. Sometimes he does homework, sometimes he’s just fucking around on his computer, sometimes he’s just bothering you. When you have to leave to go to class, he stays behind to watch your stuff so you don’t have to pack everything up and come back. 

Very protective when it comes to keeping your seat for you. No, you cannot take that chair to your table you good for nothing freshman; it’s reserved for you. 

He’ll drag you out of the library if you’ve been cooped up all day, tho. Eren will use his height and his strength against you to get you up. Placates you with kisses when he sees your angry expression, and promises to buy you food.

He takes your backpack for you when you’re walking together,m. His backpack is frustratingly light all the time, even during midterms. You swear all he’s got in there is a pencil and some flashcards. 

If you have night classes, he sticks around to walk you home after, especially in the winter when it gets dark faster. If he’s not already on campus, he’ll walk/drive back to meet you; he just doesn’t like you going home alone. Even if your friend/roommate is in the class with you, Eren will walk or drive the both of you home for his own sanity. 

He plays sports, so he usually has practice most evenings, but he’ll find a way to make time. If practice was particularly brutal, he’ll probably crash at your place.

He loves it when you come to meet him after practice. His whole face lights up and he waves obnoxiously, before he gathers up his stuff and all but sprints towards you. You get a cold water bottle to the face, or a bit of water splashed on you usually, which he takes immense amusement in. 

He knows it’s not possible for you to make it to all of his games, and usually it doesn’t bother him much; you’ve got your own life, and work to worry about. All he asks is that you wear his jersey, or any item of his sports apparel/merch on game day (he’s partial to hoodies).

By the time junior year rolls around, he’s not all that interested in attending parties that aren’t hosted by your friends; so, unless it’s at Connie, Jean, or Reiner and Bertholdt’s place, Eren will usually decline. Even team parties, he’s not crazy about unless it’s to celebrate a championship or something. He’d much rather celebrate with you. 

He does get excited about hosting parties though, and he and Jean become pretty damn good co-hosts. They don’t throw ragers, and that’s probably why Eren likes it so much. It’s usually your friend group and a couple plus ones, some good music, games, weed, and take-out. 

He’ll buy you coffee whenever you ask for it. The first time, he just orders something plain, not really knowing the difference between anything; but give it two or three tries, and he’ll get it perfect. He becomes so good that he can order you something new/different and you’ll love it. 

That’s kind of the start of his own coffee addiction, and more often than not, when he buys you a cup, he’s on his second or third of the day himself. The flavor has really grown on him, okay. 

He much prefers your apartment, but on occasion, he’ll ask you to come to his. You’ve been studying for so long, a change of environment should do you good, he claims. He’s a fucking liar tho because that’s all Eren Talk for “I do genuinely want you to come over, but my plans are to coerce you out of doing your assignments and doing me instead.”

Lmfao he adds you on Apple Watch Rings just so you can see him close his rings every day and laugh at you. Even if yours get closed by virtue of walking around campus or working out or whatever, his numbers are stupidly high because he fucking has practice at least 4 days of the week. 

Of course when you’re running on a soccer field for 2 hours every day, you close your Move Ring five times, Eren. Leave the rest of us alone. 

He buys you guys matching accessories for your keychains. It’s something pretty cute, and slightly random, but it reminded him of you. It also serves as a reminder to himself to take his fucking keys with him when he leaves his house. 

He sleeps like a fucking rock, so do not let him fall asleep in the library. Waking him up is a mission, and he’s never happy to be woken up. He looks kinda cute tho. 

He schedules dates for you and his friends. Usually by accident, but hear me out. Sometimes he’ll make plans with Armin, then forget that he has class or a test or something; so his solution is to text you, “hey, i forgot min and i were supposed to go some aquarium tomorrow but i have a midterm so here’s the pdf of my ticket, go with him for me, thanks babe love u” then, boop, you and Armin have an aquarium date Friday evening. 

The same thing happens with Mikasa, though, she usually catches the scheduling conflict before Eren does, and invites you out herself. You and Mikasa hang out quite a bit anyway, so it comes to the point where she tells you when she’s gonna hang out with Eren, so you can make yourself free for when he inevitably remember he has a game that day. 

Mikasa is most amazed that you’ve put up with Eren this long lmao. You’ve certainly lessened her Eren & Armin babysitting hours, and for that she’s eternally grateful. Also, she’s just happy to have another close friend. She loves Eren and Armin, but they’re not the most social beings, and she was literally their only friend besides the other for all their childhood PLEASE she’s so happy you’re around. 

It’s Mikasa, however, who babysits you and Eren whenever you both get too drunk. Says you guys are two peas in a pod (affectionate<2)

If you tell Eren something important that happened, like an internship you got, or a good grade in a class, or something, he usually relays that information to his mom pls. He texts her every day, and if she doesn’t ask for an update on you first, he gives her one.

Carla calls you sometimes, too. At least once every few weeks, just to check on you herself. She really likes you for Eren, and is grateful someone is willing to put up with her hotheaded son. 

Eren’s always using your fucking chapstick. Always. You know he has his own, so why he needs to use yours is beyond you. Finds time to make some dumbass comment about how it’s an “indirect kiss” every time he uses it too. Like bro, we’re dating, and have had many direct kisses why are you like this.

He posts on Instagram every few weeks or so, but you’re on his story every few days. Usually, it’s just a video of you minding your business and doing your work while Eren slowly zooms in before making some loud noise to surprise you, all so he can get your reaction on video and laugh at it. He’s annoying. 

He’s a bit of a copycat when it comes to the products you use. He’ll buy the same brand of pens as you (for that matter, all of his school supplies mirror yours because what does he know about the difference between A4 and A5 notebooks?), put a little hand sanitizer on his backpack like yours (and a lotion, too, for good measure), he even copies your Starbucks order until he finds one he likes for himself. It’s one of his love languages <3

If you’re wondering where your eyelash curler went, Eren stole it to try it on himself, hurt himself, vowed to never use it again, went back because he wanted to “do it right and not give up,” liked the results when he didn’t pinch his eyelid, and now it’s his. 

That being said, stop trying to put your Fenty lipgloss on him, it’s never going to happen. Eye makeup, maybe, only if you sit in his lap and he can have his hands on your ass while you do it. 

What he does love is letting you do his skincare. He will set aside dedicated skincare nights, he adores it. Easily one of his favorite things ever. 

You have his wallet. Not because he’s your sugar daddy or anything (although, if you want something, he’d definitely let you use his card to get it; and even if you bought something without asking, he wouldn’t think twice about it), but because he put it in your bag once and never took it out. 

When you tried to give it back, he just shook his head and told you to keep it, “I have my ID in my phone case anyway, and you’re less likely to lose it. Plus I put all my cards on Apple Pay, so I’m good.”

When you do make it to a game of his, he’s all over you when it’s over. Not in a cocky athlete boyfriend kind of way; in a very sleepy boyfriend kind of way. He’s usually got ice on at least one part of his body, and he’s got half his body weight on you as you walk to the car. 

By the time you guys get back to your place, he’s practically sleep walking. The only thing on his mind is taking a hot shower to soothe his muscles, and heading to bed. The aftermath of game days aren’t all that bad though, because even if you didn’t show, you’re always there to kiss him when he’s home and massage his shoulders, and cuddle him to sleep; and that’s his favorite part. 

[moonchildstyles]

Prosecco h’a girl being sick 😔 and not telling h bc she doesn’t want to worry him in his meetings 😔but her roommate (before they live together obv) texts h like I think she has the flu ☹️ so he shows up to their apt after work and she’s in front of the toilet 😔 and so embarrassed like h pls I don’t want you yo see me puking so gross 😔but he’s like baby I’m here to help you 😔and maybe runs he me a bath and spends the night rubbing her back wiping away her tears 😔he’s so perfect

Sorry ur having a bad day 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

omg:(((( since she doesn't have a roommate I almost feel like shes feeling super super sick but shes trying to go to class anyway bc shes trying to be better about he attendance esp since h wants her to do well w her classes and she wants him to be proud so she goes to class anyway but her friend ends up driving her home after one of her classes bc shes just not doing good and on the edge of nauseous and so when she goes home shes not checking her phone anymore but it keeps going off now and then w texts from h and when y/ns too busy puking to check she has her friend take a look and shes like ummmm I think its ur bf??? I can't see the messages but hes sent a few if you want me to look??? and y/n feels so bad bc they have their location shared w one another and he probs saw her go home in the middle of the day and hes so worried ofc so shes just like....can u just text him as me really quick telling him im okay hes in a bunch of meetings today I dont want him to worry :( and like her friend just feels......werid about that like y/n has a mad fever shes been vomming off and on and like her friend loves her ofc but she can't stay and take care of her she has her own classes she needs to go to so she ends up calling h from the other room and is like hi im one of her friends I took her home shes super super sick rn and I need to get back to class and um:( she doesn't want you to worry but I think it might be a good idea for u to come see her:( and before h can even really react hes just telling her friend thank you and to just please wait a minute bc he'll be there so soon and just being so grateful that she told him:( and as soon as hes there her friend kind f gives him a run down like she took medicine then but she hasn't tried eating anything and shes barely been drinking water and all of that and shes like I can grab any notes for her too while shes gone but bye I gotta go!!! and h is so happy and kind and grateful to this girl but hes already rushing to the bathroom before this girl has let herself out and as soon as y/n sees him in the bathroom shes so embarrassed and h:(((( your not supposed to be here go wait in the bedroom ill clean up in a minute im gross:(((( and h doesn't even listen to her bc he can see her breath hitch and like everything kind of change bc shes about to vom so hes already behind her making sure her hair is out of her face and hes rubbing her back and its okay sweetheart its okay its okay:( get it all out and you'll feel so much better don't worry:( and he just soothes her through like the end of it until shes all teary again and embarrassed and h sits on the floor w her holding her in his lap and shes just crying into his shoulder like as much as she didn't want him to see her like this she feels so much better having him here to take care of her and shes just decompressing and thank u for coming im sorry I took yu out of work:( and hes just shushing her like don't worry about that baby I already got them moved I just want you to worry about getting better:( making me so sad to see you so upset:( and he just takes his time getting her through her sick until shes calmed down alot and thats when he runs her a bath and helps coax her into eating a light dinner and sipping some more water and shes so exhausted and so is h but he def stays up during the night just sitting up in bed w her laid on his lap and hes dozing off here and there but he makes sure hes there if shes sick again:( love love love this soooo much :(

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

another helping of living w/ bakugou thoughts:

pls i am so sorry, i feel like i bombard y’all with these constantly, but u don’t understand, he literally lives in my brain full time

- if you’re rolling your sleeves up, to wash your hands before dinner, he’ll whack your hands away and do it himself. very much “you’re takin’ too long, idiot. i wanna eat already. let me do it.”,, don’t be fooled tho, you could do it in 2.5 seconds and he’d still open his mouth. bc it has absolutely nothing to do with u and everything to do with him wanting to be close to you

-ik he watches the mha equivalent of the history channel. i just know it. dude is a grandpa at heart, n im so confident he would 100% sit down and watch a 3 hr docu on like, old weaponry or some nerdy shit

-bakugou is annoyingly arrogant, but only about things that don’t matter. like, he’ll fully sit in front of you and tell you he’s stronger/faster/smarter in passing conversation,, but when he does actually impressive shit??? the man clams up. absolutely clams up the second you praise him, trying to brush off whatever ridiculous feat he just pulled to protect u with a “It’s not that big a deal, shut up about it already, dumbass.” 

- pls mans is an absolute simp. u ask him to do something and he’s on his feet in a second. ofc he’s complaining but he’s also then following that up by doing things you didn’t even ask him to do. fan behavior honestly.

-when you’ve had a bad day, he’ll make u food and throw blankets in the dryer for u. don’t expect much verbal comforting from him, bc obviously, but he’s pretty good with actions. you always feel a little warmer after he’s wrapped you in a blanket n fed you something ungodly spicy

- i have absolutely no basis for this but ik he secretly watches kids movies. like, if it’s animated then he’s there. ofc no one is allowed to find out about this ‘embarrassing’ behavior tho, except maybe you. maybe. if you accidentally happen to see it bc he’d never tell u himself.

- he’s a beast to wake up in the morning, but he’s a lot more easy to convince if u pet his hair. or rub his back/shoulders. maybe even kiss his neck. look, u cannot tell me that he doesn’t want to be absolutely coddled in the morning- especially when he can get away with it so easily. 

-bakugou always pulls ur legs into his lap if u sit down next to him. pls he’s so weird, he’ll just like, tap his fingers on ur calves absentmindedly while he’s watching tv

-he probably created a playlist of songs ur ‘allowed’ to play around him. meaning, it’s only the songs on ur phone that he likes 🙄

-bakugou always takes his work phone calls outside. like if his phone rings he’ll just stand up n walk tf out the door to take it. even if it’s cold. u ask him once about it n he just “Work stays at work. This is my fuckin’ home. Now shut up about it already.”

-you’ve never once seen this man wearing socks around the house. don’t ask me, i cannot explain this whatsoever, but i just kno this man walks around constantly barefoot 🤢🤮 unfortunately.

-he’s like, the most functional person ever in almost every aspect, but the stuff katsuki is bad at?? pls he is hopelessly bad. like, lets say art stuff. omg he just doesnt have the patience for it, okay, so say goodbye to any dreams of cute lil couple’s crafts. like, he’ll sit there while u do yours, but his will look like utter shit

- during the week, katsuki is either at work, training, or at home. pls, he works so hard during the day that i highly doubt he’s anything but an absolute homebody during the work week.

- bakugou gets pissy if u re-arrange any of the furniture on a whim. pls he likes comfort and familiarity n if he stubs his toe on the stupid coffee table one more fucking time, he’s going to scream

-its a rare occurance,, especially bc of the crazy hours he works,, but bakugou rlly likes making dinner for u to come home to. he just likes to feel like he’s taking care of u tbh

-he still goes to bed at like 8:30. or thats what u think, but rlly he just goes to sit in your room and have some time to himself for a bit. as much as he loves u, he prob still needs some alone time to recharge

-bakugou takes meticulous care of any plants u have in the house. like he’ll water them on a strict-ass schedule, n preen them when necessary. pls the way he’ll curse them out if they even dare to wilt under his care?? very much “What the hell, you bitch? ‘m doin’ everything fuckin’ perfect! Grow already!”

-katsuki is such a little bitch when he’s sick. he’ll be running like a 103 temp, brain literally melting, and still trying to get up and work out. the only way u can get him to chill the hell out is if u take a nap with him. ofc that means u always get sick too,, but hey- lil sacrifices right??

-he never lets you get the door. like, if there’s a knock n neither of u knows who it could be,, pls he’s on his feet so fast. waving u away n looking thru the keyhole w/ sm suspicion

-he has his spot on the couch, n u will not find him sitting anywhere else. like, that’s his spot. u better pray for anybody who mistakenly takes it

-bakugou doesn’t like dirt or grime, so he won’t allow you or himself, to sit on your bed with clothes that have been outside. like, even if you’re just sitting on top of the covers, he’s gonna throw a fit and demand you change your clothes first bc “No way in hell am I gonna let your dumbass dirty up my bed.”

-katsuki rlly likes when it storms outside. he’ll go sit in front of the window and watch the rain, sipping on a warm drink while he waits for more thunder. 

-living with bakugou is incredibly frustrating, bc he’ll just show up with new skills all of the goddamn time. like you’ll be like, “hmm i’d love to remodel the bathroom someday”,, and the very next weekend bakugou is meticulously re-tiling the bathroom floor by hand, probably also painting the walls in a new color, maybe even installing a new sink just to spruce it up. n then he’ll just present the entirely new, upgraded room with such weird nonchalance that it pisses u off. pls and if you watch him while he does these little projects, with all the weird precision and skill he suddenly gains?? pls you’re sure he must be possessed by the ghost of a craftsman

- when he hangs out with the bakusquad, he’ll drag you along every time. he expects you to sit with him the entire time and act as a social buffer?? basically, someone’ll ask him a question, one he deems stupid and therefore not worth answering, and bakugou will just look at you expectantly. he’ll just stare at you blankly, hardly even blinking until you pick up the slack and answer for him. you call him out on this many times, but it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t change anything. he does this over and over and over again

-bakugou gets really unsettled when you guys fight. like, he can’t sleep and he’s snapping at everybody, and is somehow more aggressive than usual. he always wants to just make up already, but the pride in the way won’t allow it

-he’s a weird stickler about intended furniture functionality?? like, the table is for eating, and the couch is for watching tv, and then only way you’re gonna get him to mix the two is if you ask him rlly rlly nicely

-finally- i have no basis for this one, but ik it in my heart: bakugou has a very intense fight with your thermostat nearly every single day. he swears up and down that it never ‘behaves’ for him, but every time you check it, it’s working perfectly fine

--/-- 

ahahhaa sorry y’all for the super random spam today,, but here were are back to our regularly scheduled bakugou programming,,,, bc idk if it’s obvious ur honor, but i love him

[sunflowervolvimp3]

you’re someone i just want around: X

I will not ask you where you came from,

I will not ask and neither should you.

Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips,

We should just kiss like real people do.

Like Real People Do, Hozier

A/N: okay i know i say this every time but genuinely THIS IS MY FAVOURITE PART SO FAR!!!!! and my lil section of this story has come to an end!!! act one is done!!! and the beginning of act two aka part 11 will be coming on andrea’s blog!!!!! thank u guys so so much for all the love and support you’ve given us!!!! we truly cannot believe you guys have been so receptive and we love you all so so much 🦋 as always any and all feedback is deeply appreciated not just by andrea and I but by all content creators!!! seriously we do all of this for free while going to school and working full time and those little messages make our days so much better!!! so do reblogs!!! you should reblog the content you like!!!! leave a lil message in the tags!!! shoot us a message!! anything is truly madly deeply™️ appreciated 💌 thank you all once again for your support!!!! pls enjoy 🦋

ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : ysijwa playlist :  ysijwa playlist II

word count: 37.9k

content/warnings: harry ignoring “bros before hoes” part 45684957, “FUCK FLORIDA!!! ALL MY HOMIES HATE FLORIDA!!!” - xander, fight scene (rap), jefferson x hamilton (friends to lovers), road head ahead?? uhhh yeah, i sure hope so!!!, MUSI 1113: history of classical music, prof. harry styles, sherlock and watson solve the biggest mystery yet, *edward cullen voice* and so the mosquito fell in love with the butterfly

“Are you going to stare at your phone all day, like a bloody tool, or are you actually going to join the conversation?”

Despite the baited question, Harry keeps his gaze on his device as he flicks through his notifications, opening one app after the other in quick repetition before closing the screen. “That depends.  Are you actually going to say something interesting?”

From the other side of his couch, Niall flicks up his middle finger with ease, his expression sour and unimpressed. “We are saying something interesting, you prick.  I want to get out of town next weekend, but no one—” The Irishman shoots a pointed look to Xander, who’s leaning across the kitchen island with an unbothered expression. “—can agree on where to go.”

“It’s not that I can’t agree, Niall. It’s that your ideas are stupid.” Xander shoots back in an exasperated tone, raising his Bloody Mary (with extra blood, hardly any Mary) to his scowling lips. “No one wants to go to fucking Florida.  It’s Florida.  Why the fuck would we go to Florida?”

“Because I’ve been alive for two hundred years—”

Adam clicks his tongue from the lounge seat by the window. “I’m not sure if ‘alive’ is the best description.”

“—and I’ve never been to Disney World!  I died from a fucking famine.  Am I not entitled— nay, am I not owed—” Niall straightens his posture on the couch as he addresses the whole of the room, a determined look set in his icy blue eyes that contrasts the dulled gaze of those watching him. “A warm churro, cold Dole Whip, and a set of over-priced Mickey ears?  Huh?”

“That still doesn’t answer the question of why we’d have to go to Florida to get that!” Xander exclaims, rounding the corner of the kitchen counter with his drink in hand.  He raises the glass to his lips, pausing halfway to point towards the wall of windows that’s currently letting in the midday Sunday sun. “We could drive a half hour to Disneyland, and get you the exact same thing!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Niall sucks in a deep breath through clenched teeth, as if he needs to calm himself down before doing something he regrets. “Xander,” He begins in a controlled voice, tight and tense and on the verge of snapping. “I suffered through starvation, fought in a world war, went through the Great Depression, and then fought in another fucking world war!  After all that, why would I settle for Disneyland, when we could easily make it to Disney World and back in three days?”

“You know…” Mitch says slowly, flopping down on the sofa between Niall and Harry, who’s already turned his attention back to his obsessive ritual of checking his notifications. “You can’t keep playing the ‘fought in a war’ card.  Harry fought in World War One, too, and I fought in the Revolutionary War.  And died in the Revolutionary War.  You do realize the majority of our group are veterans, right?”

Niall sighs in exasperation, clutching his beer in his fist to keep it from spilling as the older vampire beside him shifts on the couch. “I don’t play the ‘fought in a war’ card, Mitchell, I play the ‘fought in two wars’ card. And I think that card earns me the right to choose what we do next weekend.”

“And I think you folded those cards the moment you suggested Florida.” Wrinkling his nose, Xander finally enters the living room, and Harry risks a glance up from his phone to eye the dark-tinted liquid that laps at the edge of Xander’s glass with every step. “Why don’t we just go to Disneyland?  Or, better yet, why don’t we take a few extra days and go somewhere exciting?  I hear Greece is lovely this time of year; I wouldn’t mind trying some Mediterrean food for a week.”

“Florida is just as lovely—”

“That’s a lie, Florida is never lovely.”

“And Adam wants to go to Disney World, too!” Niall finishes triumphantly, taking a large swig of his half-empty beer before wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “So it’s two-to-one!”

“Two-to-two, actually.” Mitch interjects, pursing his lips at the childish grimace that overtakes Niall’s previously cheery expression. “I’m not too fond of alligators, and last time I heard from Sarah, she was in Italy.  It’d be nice to have a week with her in Greece.”

Niall rolls his eyes at the sudden tie, turning his gaze past his disappointing friend to his other almost-as-disappointing friend, tone growing firmer. “Alright, then, Harry, it’s up to you.  You’re our tie-breaking vote.”

Harry, however, had spent the better part of the last two minutes scrolling through the photos he and Y/N had taken on their date the day before, and doesn’t even glance up from his screen upon registering the utterance of his name. “Hm?  The vote on what?”

The frustrated Irishman lobs his bottle of beer at Harry’s head, his pitch powerful enough that it nearly collides with its target a millisecond later.  And would have collided, if Harry’s hand hadn’t shot up on a supernatural reflex to capture it perfectly within his grasp.

Keeping his eyes locked on his phone, Harry sighs at his friend’s antics. “Watch it, Ni, I don’t want to scrub beer stains out of my couch—”

“I wouldn’t have to resort to throwing bottles at your thick head if you could get it out of your girlfriend’s arse long enough to participate in our discussion!” The blue-eyed vampire shoots daggers at him, and the lightness of his irises shifts to a dark crimson as Harry’s gaze barely flickers to him. “Oh for fuck’s sake—” Bracing himself against Mitch’s lap, Niall launches over the couch and snatches Harry’s phone from his hands, scrambling back to his seat and stuffing it down his jeans pocket before Harry can react. “You’ll get this back after we finish talking, alright?  Now, where do you want to go next weekend?  Disney World or Greece?”

Although the urge to tackle Niall and fight for his phone twinges in Harry’s mind, he forces himself to stay seated, settling for just shooting a glare across the couch.  He’s certain that Mitch wouldn’t be appreciative of him and Niall biting at each other on top of him, just as certain he is of the fact that attacking Niall won’t exactly make him look mentally stable.  

Instead, Harry merely sucks in a deep breath, setting the beer bottle on the coffee table and dragging his jeweled hand through his hair before answering evenly. “First of all, she’s not my girlfriend.  And second of all… neither.  Y/N and I have plans next weekend.”

A collective groan runs through the room the moment the phrase falls from his lips, and Harry swallows down a smirk at the reaction he receives from his friends.  Only Mitch’s face remains free of irritation, and instead sits in a neutral expression that, from his years of friendship, Harry can tell is tinged with concern.

“You have plans with her every weekend.” Xander complains, taking a sip of his Bloody Mary as he sits down next to Adam on the lounge seat, pulling Harry’s attention from the eldest immortal. “How can you sit there and say she’s not your girlfriend when you’ve been ditching us for the last, like, three and a half months to spend time with her?”

That, in all honesty, is a fair question.  Harry knows that he’s been spending more and more time with Y/N in the last few weeks at the expense of his friends, and on some level, he does feel bad about it.  Except that when he actually thinks about it, he doesn’t feel that bad in the slightest. He has no reason to, given that he spends almost every weekday with his friends, so what’s the harm in saving his weekends for someone else?  

In fact, he rather enjoys bracketing off those days just to spend them with her, alone with no one else to bother them, where they can just bask in each other’s company. So no, he really doesn’t feel bad at all.

He has the sudden realization that, on top of having the sweetest, most addicting blood he’s ever had the good fortune of tasting in the last two hundred years, Y/N is just generally fun to be around. Due to this, Harry has unintentionally continued to grow closer and closer to the human girl with every second they spend together.  She’s witty, adventurous, and always down to try something new— both in public and in the bedroom.  And in the bedroom— a smile unknowingly creeps onto Harry’s face as he recalls the dinner he’d taken her to last month, and what they’d done after. 

He also recalls the morning that had followed, in which they had eaten breakfast on his couch together in nothing but their underwear, their bodies tangled against the sofa cushions as Y/N had fed him bites of French toast while he showed her the extensive collection of Polaroid pictures he’d taken the previous night before.  He vividly remembers the way she had squirmed at the images of her with her legs spread open for him, of her bare chest heaving and her back arching, and of the wetness dripping down her thighs and staining the sheets. And he especially remembers the way she’d hid her face away in his neck at the snapshot of his hand wrapped around her throat, as well as the picture of her suckling eagerly at his thumb while his array of rings had glinted under the flash of the camera. 

It had been so cute watching her eyes brim over with shyness, especially because she had been more than happy to shed her inherent timidness the night prior. He’d teased her about it, of course. How could he not? He’d laid there as she rested between his legs, pointing out every welt and bruise prominent on the photos, and then skimming his icy fingers over her actual body to find them. It had been a very intimate moment, given that they were reflecting on more than just the physical aspects of what they’d shared. It feels like their entire dynamic had shifted slightly, all due to the fact that the roughness and aftercare that had occurred between them were actions that required immense amounts of trust and communication. Harry felt closer to her in a way he hadn’t before, and if the softness behind Y/N’s eyes was any indication, she felt the exact same way. 

Their connection felt different now— purer, in a way, now that they’d seen one another in such an exposed fashion, but it still managed to stay within the boundaries Harry was intent on upholding. She’d given him a type of relief he hadn’t realized he’d missed so much, considering he hadn’t indulged in anything of that caliber in years due to certain doubts about his self-control. But somehow, he had managed to keep his supernatural strength and impulses at bay the whole way through, and he’d kept her safe and satisfied, as he promised he would. In return, she’d made him feel more in tune with himself than he had in a while. 

With all of those thoughts filtering through the vampire’s mind during their morning cuddle session, he had ducked down and kissed at the tip of her warm nose, sighing blissfully when she had returned the gesture onto the curve of his chin. Then, he’d begun pinching playfully at her sides, not being able to resist the urge to make her smile. He had burst into laughter when she herself had erupted into spontaneous giggles, thrashing against him while squeaking curses between gasps of his name, pleading with him to cut it out or she’d wind up falling off the sofa. It had been a wholesome pastime, up until he’d ended up sucking maple syrup off her fingers with that signature devious twinkle in his half-lidded eyes, and then she herself had ended up licking that same syrup off his abdomen. That had led to him tonguing it off the swell of her breasts, and then she had wound up lapping at something much more interesting than his stomach.

It’s only natural, though, considering that in the bedroom, Y/N is a refreshingly unstoppable force.  She matches his every push, pull, and thrust with ease, as if she knows his body by heart.  Maybe she does, Harry muses, considering that he undisputedly knows hers from every angle, like the stanzas of his favorite poem. And between all those things, is it really his fault he wants to spend as much time with her as he can?  Keeping her happy and content had worked well to sweeten her blood for him thus far, so why should he change his game plan now, when he’s so clearly in the lead?

Last weekend, for example, he and Y/N had driven the scenic route out to Malibu, where they spent the entire day lounging on beach towels and frolicking in the waves.  He’d enjoyed seeing her with saltwater hair, her soft skin encrusted with sand and warmed by the sun, almost as much as he’d enjoyed fiddling with the strings of her bikini and coating her body in sunscreen, because “protection from UV rays is a top priority, love.  Trust me.”  They’d packed a picnic lunch for themselves that consisted of homemade sandwiches, chips and salsa, and fruit skewers, which Y/N had hand-fed to Harry after she’d convinced him to let her bury him in the sand.  It had been irritating to shower the grit out from some unsavoury places, but worth it to see the smile on her face and hear her infectious giggles as she molded a sizable pair of sandcastle breasts onto his chest.  And doubly worth it after he took her home and fed on her sea-tinged blood.

Yesterday, as well, had been an example of how well Harry is doing with this arrangement the two of them have.  He’d picked her up in the early afternoon and taken her to the Museum of Contemporary Art, where they’d spent the rest of the day wandering the exhibits and debating the artistic merits of each piece.  Of course, their discussions were less educated and more humour based, as Harry tended to list every painting as reminding him of sex, while Y/N said that every sculpture she saw was a comment on capitalism, but it had made them laugh nonetheless.  And while the security guards standing by didn’t seem to think their overheard conversations were amusing— nor how they posed with the paintings, trying to mimic the various expressions depicted in the artwork— Harry could tell that Y/N was entertained. It was obvious in how sugary her blood had been after she’d fallen asleep hours later. And if Harry were a better artist, he would’ve created his own sculpture dedicated to the honey and lavender liquid that he’d become so tied to over these last few months, but it appears his position as a collector is what he was suited for— both for literal artwork and the metaphorical pieces he’d paint on Y/N’s body with his lips. 

It’s with all these events in mind that he turns to Xander casually as the man’s question echoes in his head once more. “How can you say she’s not your girlfriend?”

A clear and concise explanation slips from Harry’s tongue without a second thought. “I can say she’s not my girlfriend because it’s true.” Harry slicks a hand through his tousled curls again out of habit, so used to busying his fingers with fiddling on his phone that he has to find some sort of substitute. “Keeping her satisfied keeps her— and her blood— around.  And, yes, she’s a sweet girl, and a nice break from you lot—” He nods towards Niall specifically with a jerking motion and a raised brow. “But there…” He just barely hesitates before spitting the words out. “There aren’t any actual feelings there.”

“Oh really?” Niall challenges, his own brow kinking as he shifts on the couch, turning his body completely to face Harry at the expense of Mitch’s personal space. “So all those times I’ve heard the two of you shagging— all those times you’ve called her ‘a dream’ or ‘perfect’— there were no feelings in that?”

Xander wolf whistles at the comment as Adam barks out a laugh, and even Mitch allows himself a reserved smirk at the mention of Harry’s bedroom talk.  Harry, on the other hand, straightens his shoulders as a flush works up his spine and onto his cheeks, and instead commands his tone to be as cutting as possible when he forms his reply.

“I don’t think Y/N would be very appreciative to know you’re eavesdropping on us fucking like some type of perverted creep, so you might want to invest in a better pair of plugs before I rip your ears off and solve the problem myself.” Harry threatens lowly, eyes flashing bright red for just a moment before reverting back to their natural emerald hue. “And you can take what I say mid-fuck as a ready-made script, mate, since you have no clue how to sweet-talk a bird into making her cum.”

Niall’s hands reach up to cup his ears protectively due to the other monster’s violent warning, his brows furrowing into a pointed scowl. “Eat shit. It’s not like I have a choice but to listen, given that you two nearly bring the building down while—”

“You know,” Xander chimes in from the lounge seat, his voice taking on an accusatory tone as his eyes narrow at Harry. “I thought a constant supply of blood would mellow you out, but if anything, you’ve grown a bit more irritable.  Does this arrangement have an expiration date?”

“Xander…” Mitch begins, caution written into his quiet voice as his eyes flit from Harry to Xander and back again. “That’s not—”

Harry sharpens his voice into a blade as he slashes over Mitch, jaw growing taut as he spits out his retort. “I know a relationship lasting more than one night is a bit of a foreign concept to you, so I wouldn’t expect you to understand, but I really don’t think that’s any of your fucking business.”

“So you fuck the same person for a couple of months, and suddenly you’re a relationship expert?” Xander inquires with a humorless huff, his tone just as bitter as his eyes as he glares at Harry from across the room. “As if you haven’t had commitment issues since the nineteenth century?” Raising his drink to his lips, Xander takes a slow and calculated swig as Adam shifts in discomfort next to him, his eyes meeting Mitch’s with a nervous glance. “At least I can call shit what it is, while you just delude yourself for weeks on end, pretending that anything good can come out of your attachment to an insignificant human—”

“If I were you,” Harry says through gritted teeth, his fingers curling over the edge of his couch to hold himself in place. “I’d choose your next words very carefully, Xanny.”

“Or what?  Are you gonna dig into your Fifty Shades chest and spank me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?  What, are you just upset you never got the full treatment?”

A hot flush crawls up Xander’s neck as his jaw clenches. “I never said I wanted it.”

“The jealousy written all over your face suggests otherwise.” 

“Alright!” Adam’s voice barks, swiftly slicing through the tension in the air, his eyes glowing crimson as he commands everyone’s attention from the two quarrelling vampires back onto himself. “That’s enough.  You’re both being ridiculous. Harry, you can’t be upset with us for trying to understand what you’re doing, mate.  We’re just curious, that’s all.  But Xander—” The youngest vampire’s snickering is cut off when his name is called sternly. “That doesn’t give you the right to ridicule him for it.  Harry knows what he’s doing— he’s a full-grown adult— and he wouldn’t do anything that would put himself, or any of us, into any sort of jeopardy.” With a long sigh, Adam’s gaze slides over the two creatures with a look of parental finality. “Are we good?”

Despite the annoyance still woven around each of Harry’s limbs, he forces himself to nod as he settles back into his couch, inhaling a deep breath through his nose.  Beside him, Mitch nudges the back of his hand against Harry’s arm, as if in encouragement, and the motion reminds him just exactly who it is that he’s talking to.  These are his friends— of course they have concerns about him.  Although they might voice those concerns in unusual ways (like sticking their noses into his intimate life), the meaning behind their words comes from a place of affection.

“Alright.” Adam says again, relief flooding across his face as he turns his attention to the rest of the room. “Now, we still need to decide what we’re doing next weekend.  Personally, I think a three day trip to Disney World would be a lot easier than Greece; I say we save that for next month, so we have more time to plan it and actually make the trip worthwhile.”

Xander, still a little irritated from his confrontation with Harry, huffs in response. “That’s all well and good, Adam, except you forgot that I refuse to step foot in that humid swamp-fest. Makes my face break out and my curls frizz up.”

“Jesus Christ, Xander.” Niall groans from the opposite end of the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose like before, nudging his large squared glasses up as he does so. “Can you just get that stick out of your arse long enough to—”

Whatever Niall is about to suggest Xander do seems to disappear from his mind as the Irishman suddenly cuts off his speech, his ears perking up as Harry’s phone begins to chime from his back pocket.  Although the sound is muffled from both the cushion and Niall’s trousers, the distinguishable opening motive of “Alexander Hamilton” playing can be heard by everyone, and it only takes one loop of Y/N’s signature ringtone for Harry to launch himself over the couch with his arms outstretched.

“Hey!” Mitch exclaims loudly, pressing himself into the cushions as Harry’s body writhes against his lap in his effort to extract the phone from Niall’s pants. “Jesus, watch your fucking feet!  You’re like Gumby!”

Harry, however, is only paying attention to Niall, who is fending off his attempts at snatching the device with one hand while holding the phone over the edge of the couch with the other. “Give it!” He snarls, eyes shading red as he watches an immature simper grow onto Niall’s face, his thumb poising over the answer button. “Don’t you fucking dare—”

“Shh!” Niall hisses at him, but his voice is lit with delight as he clicks on the green phone icon and raises the device to his ear, lowering his voice into a relaxed drawl. “Hi there, you’ve reached the Styles residence! Para español, por favor oprima el número uno. This is Niall speaking, what can I help you with today?”

“Oh—” Even through the tiny speaker, Harry’s highly tuned ears have no trouble picking out the gentle cadence of Y/N’s voice. “Hi, Niall!  It’s Y/N.”

“Y/N!” The younger immortal grins at Harry as he dodges his attempt at swiping for the device, setting his palm between Harry’s eyes and shoving him back roughly as he clambers up off the couch. He dashes across the living room to hide behind the lounge seat, sticking out his tongue and wagging it at his very peeved friend. “Lovely to hear your voice, darlin’!  How are you doing on this lovely Sunday afternoon?”

“I’m alright, thanks.” Harry hears her response as he pounces off the sofa, barreling across the room to chase after Niall. The shorter man is stealthy, and manages to duck and weave past Harry without a single issue, escaping under his left arm. He scrambles towards the glass stairs, holding back giggles as his opponent circles around the furniture to go after him, unhinged aggravation written all over his handsome features. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m just delightful.” Niall laughs airily, taking a sharp turn away from the staircase to confuse Harry’s impulses, snatching a throw pillow off the nearest couch and aiming it at the brunette’s head.  Like the beer bottle, Harry catches it easily, throwing it back at Niall’s stomach with a harder hand. Niall avoids it by a hair. “What can I do for you?”

“Uh, I just wanted to talk to Harry— I had a question for him.  But if he’s busy…”

“Yeah, he’s a little indisposed at the moment, I’m afraid.” Niall races into the kitchen, bracing himself against the marble island with that shit-eating grin still on his face, shuffling erratically from side to side to sike out the other creature across from him. “But I’d be happy to take a message from such a gorgeous girl as yourself.”

“Oh, um, that’s very kind of you—”

Harry rounds the corner of the marble island with a growl, snatching his phone from one hand and smacking Niall upside the head with the other. “Bloody prick.” He hisses over the other vampire’s snickers, eyes colder than his touch as he delivers another blow to Niall’s shoulder. “Fucking annoying, is what you are—”

“Niall?  Are you there?”

After heaving an exasperated sigh and sending one more glare to his friend, Harry raises his phone to his ear, doing his best to lighten the irritation in his voice. “Sorry, love. Niall just wants to be a bit of a bother today, it seems.” He sucks in a deep breath through his teeth as he turns away from the Irishman, wrapping his free arm around his middle as he leans his lower back against the island, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. He picks at a loose thread on his copper tartan trousers, voice coming out honeyed and delicate, as it always tends to get when he regards her. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He can hear the smile that spreads across Y/N’s face upon hearing from him, and the tone sends a flood of warmth through Harry’s chest. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, sweetheart, never.  I’m always free to talk to you.” Harry sends a cautious glimpse towards the living room, knowing that the four vampires sitting in his living room (Niall had slinked his way back to the couch now that his ridiculous charade had come to a close) are hanging onto his every word. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m good, just… I had a question, but if you’re busy—”

“No, not busy at all!  I’ve just been lounging around with the boys all morning. S’nothing serious.” Harry replies a bit too excitedly, straightening the hem of his fitted red and black striped t-shirt, which had gotten mussed during his tussle with Niall. “What d’you need?

Over the phone, he can hear Y/N clear her throat delicately, and a picture of her sitting on her couch in her living room plays across the front of his eyes, her thumb wedged between her lips as she chews on her nail, as she always does when she gets nervous. “Uh, well, I was also just relaxing this morning, and I was playing on my phone, and I kinda came upon this cute little bookstore called Verbatim Books. They have a bunch of really cool used books— and records, too, which I think you’d like— and they have this really neat, like, labyrinth layout—” Harry’s lips twitch as Y/N continues to ramble, “—and I’ve been looking for a replacement copy of Wuthering Heights because I dropped mine in the bathtub, remember?  And I wanted to get a new copy of Romeo and Juliet, as well—”

“Alright, slow down, pet.  Can barely understand you when you’re going a mile a minute.” Harry chuckles boyishly, absentmindedly carding a jeweled hand through the soft curls along the nape of his neck.  Just the sound of Y/N’s innocent dialect ringing in his ear manages to somehow soothe his entire body. “You want to go to this bookstore, is that it?  Because we can.” He flicks his eyes back over to his friends, who are already rolling their own in response. “Just give me an hour or two to finish up with the guys, and I’ll come pick you up—”

“Well, the thing is…” He pictures Y/N chewing on her thumb some more, timid uncertainty pouring into her usually clear irises. “Verbatim Books is in San Diego.”

“San Diego.” Harry repeats back to her, his free hand settling against the cold marble of the island behind him as he quirks an eyebrow in mild shock. “As in the San Diego that’s a two hour drive away?  That San Diego?”

Y/N’s anxious laugh tinkles through the receiver. “Yeah, that San Diego.  But if you have plans with your friends, I completely understand.  We can go a different day.”

Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth wearingly, Harry glances at the digital clock blinking above his stovetop, reflecting back the time 12:53 P.M. “When do they close?”

“Five, I think?”

The vampire calculates the route to San Diego in his head, his sculpted brows creasing as the time frame appears in his mind. “If we left now, we’d probably get there between three and three-thirty.  Would an hour and a half be enough time for you to explore and find what you need?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you are unbelievable,” Xander mutters from across the condo, but Harry pays him no attention other than raising a blue-lacquered middle finger to flip him off. 

“I mean, yeah, I think so, but—”

“Alright, darling, then just give me a few minutes to grab my things and kick everyone out.” Harry says firmly, pushing himself away from the counter to begin searching for his car keys. 

“No, Harry, it’s not so important that we have to go today, and I don’t want you to kick your friends out.  In fact…” Y/N’s voice becomes thoughtful as a new idea pops into her head, and she hesitates for a moment before suggesting it on the grounds of not wanting to come off as pushy. But in the end, her curiosity bests her. “Why don’t we save Verbatim for another day, and I could just come over and hang out with you and your friends?  I bought all the ingredients for this really yummy guacamole recipe I saw on Tasty the other day— we could do, like, an impromptu movie night or something.  I’ve been craving one of your margaritas all week.”

“Yeah, Harry!” Niall chimes in as Harry re-enters the living room, obviously ignoring his friend’s earlier threat against eavesdropping. “I could go for some guac and a marg— not blended, though. Tastes like shit that way.”

Harry stares at him in disgust as he snatches his keys from the coffee table. “You’re a fucking twat.” 

“What?”

“Oh— not you, babe!” Harry hurries to reassure her as Niall cackles in taunting satisfaction. “Sorry, I was talking to Niall.  No, it’s… it’s alright.  You want to go to this bookstore, and the boys were on their way out anyways—”

“Were you on your way out?” Adam asks Xander sarcastically, and Xander raises his half-full Bloody Mary as a negative response, making a mockingly sour face in return. “Okay, I thought so.  Neither was I.”

“—so it’s all fine.  I’ll leave in a few minutes, yeah?  Probably be at your place within fifteen?” Harry checks the time on his Rolex as he estimates his arrival. “Does that sound good?”

“I— sure.  Yeah, that works.” Y/N says slowly, her voice a little softer than it was a moment before. “I’ll see you when you get here, then.”

“Alright, doll.  See you soon.” Harry hangs up his phone with a tap of his finger, sliding the device into his back pocket as he turns to face his friends. “So that was Y/N—”

“Oh, really? I had no clue!” Xander deadpans, rising from the lounge seat and setting his condensation-covered glass on the coffee table, deliberately avoiding the coaster Harry always insists should be used. “See you later, Harry.”

Adam matches the motion, a smirk jolting across his scruffy cheeks as he stands from his seat and claps Harry over the shoulder as he passes by. “Have a nice drive, man.  We’ll do a movie night with Y/N another time.”

The promise plants a seed of unease inside Harry’s stomach, but he doesn’t allow it to show on his face, choosing to smile easily at Adam’s innocent comment instead. “Yeah.  Another time.”

“Yeah, have a nice drive, H.” Niall mutters as he passes him, his face set in a petty surrendered frown. “A nice, long drive.  Preferably off a very short cliff.”

“I would, Ni, but you’d miss me too much.” Harry grins at him jokingly, bumping the vampire’s shoulder with his own until his irritated expression softens into a slightly less irritated smile. 

It’s Mitch, however, who makes Harry pause the most as he goes to leave. He halts in the doorway of Harry’s flat with a somber look in his eyes, appraising his younger friend with a curious gaze, which settles into trepidation as he sighs reluctantly. “You okay, H?” He prods gently, the question heavy as it falls from his mouth.

While Adam’s words were lighthearted and Mitch’s are anything but, they still leave the same feeling of uncertainty curling through Harry’s belly.  And, like Adam’s words, Harry plasters the same reassuring smile across his features, doing his best to dampen his best friend’s concern. “‘M peachy keen, Mitchell.  Don’t need to worry about me.”

“Are you sure?”

Harry only hesitates for a split second before urging himself to respond. “AB positive.” 

///

If Y/N doesn’t say something to him, Harry is going to go absolutely insane.

It’s not that they haven’t had silence fall between them before, because they have.  They’ve had comfortable silences as they lay in bed at night, Y/N wrapped within Harry’s inked arms as her breaths align with his.  They’ve had quiet lapses in conversation during their usual breakfasts as they watch reruns of Y/N’s favorite crime show, or as they’ve wandered up and down the Santa Monica pier, or walked to and from casual dinners on warmer nights. Despite the lack of words flowing between them, Harry would always know what Y/N was thinking as he slipped his light denim jacket over her bare shoulders, capturing her hand within his own once more as he pulled her to the inside of the sidewalk so he could walk closer to the traffic.  Silence is nothing new to them, and has even been the host of some of Harry’s favourite moments between the two, given that being able to hold a comfortable pause with someone is such a beautifully rare occurrence. Silence has typically been his friend.

But the silences that linger in their past have never felt quite like this.

From the moment Harry pulled out of Y/N’s apartment building parking lot and into the busy traffic of L.A., the mortal girl had grown quiet, and seemingly immune to Harry’s inquiries about how her day had been since he’d dropped her off at her apartment the night before.  Although she first answered him with short snippets— no more than a few words long— by the time he’d peeled them out of the hustle and bustle of the city and onto the highway towards San Diego, even those answers had come to a faltering halt.  Instead, Y/N had propped her chin up on her hand, rested her elbow on the ledge of the car door, and turned her pensive gaze at the scenery whizzing by the window, which she watched with a contemplative crease between her brows.

And the infuriating thing is that he’d asked if something was bothering Y/N the moment she’d begun to clam up, and his question had only received a small jerk of her head and a barely audible, “No, H.  I’m fine.” No gentle caress of Harry’s hand against her leg or soft squeeze of her palm had granted Harry any more clarity on the subject.  

She’s allowed to have secrets, of course. Everyone does.  Harry himself certainly has his own fair share locked away in his chest, free from prying eyes and curious minds.  But the thing is, she hasn’t held any from him.  Any question Harry’s asked, she’s always provided an open and honest answer, even if there’s been a beat of hesitation before the words fall from her pretty lips.  But her answer today, of being fine, is so clearly the opposite of that, and her insistence on hiding it means that she doesn’t want Harry to know that she’s upset.  Which means— Harry’s hands tighten around the steering wheel as he rounds the curve of the road— that Harry’s part of the reason she’s upset.  He’s not sure how, or why, or what he’s done, but he’s done something.  Otherwise, Y/N wouldn’t be refusing to give him even a fraction of the warmth she’s usually so willing to gift him. 

Another sigh heaves from Harry’s chest as he lets one hand fall from the leather wheel onto his thigh, tracing the pattern of his plaid trousers absently.  He wants to ask again, just to see if her stubbornness has dwindled by the slightest degree.  And it easily could dwindle with just a breath of suggestion from Harry, but he refuses to do that, no matter how badly he may want to.  If Y/N is really mad at him for something, how can he convince her that she should forgive him if he’s using supernatural powers to make her admit what’s wrong.  Even more, how can he convince himself that he’s justified in earning her forgiveness?

Harry casts another concerned glance at Y/N before shifting in his seat to extract his phone from his trouser pocket.  With a quick swipe of his thumb, he unlocks it with ease, his eyes flicking from the road to the phone and back again as he opens Spotify. 

“You’re not supposed to text and drive, y’know.”

The sweet cadence of Y/N’s voice, despite its quiet tone, uplifts the corner of Harry’s lips and mills a gentle chuckle in his chest. “I’m not texting.  And I’m an excellent driver, sweetheart.” He glimpses at her from the corner of his eye before returning to his search through his playlists. “Got good reflexes.”

The human girl gives a hum of acknowledgement rather than another retort to his comment, and Harry’s newborn grin quickly melts into a frown as Y/N’s attention returns to the window.  Harry finds comfort in another sigh as he selects an album from his library, clicking the shuffle icon in the corner and tucking his phone back in his pocket. 

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Music begins to roll out from the speakers that Harry installed in his car the year before, producing a hip-hop beat and the voice of Christopher Jackson as George Washington. “You could’ve been anywhere in the world tonight, but you’re here with us in New York City.  Are you ready for a cabinet meeting?”

Harry taps his fingers to the beat against the steering wheel as he steals a sly peek at Y/N.  Although she hasn’t turned to him again, he can see her eyebrows pricking up with curiosity as to what Harry’s doing. That’s all the encouragement Harry needs.

“The issue on the table: Secretary Hamilton’s plan to assume state debt and establish a national bank.  Secretary Jefferson, you have the floor, sir.”

The vampire bites back a triumphant smirk as he turns his gaze back towards the road, feigning a lack of interest in Y/N’s response as he begins to rap along to the Hamilton score. “‘Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness’.  We fought for these ideals; we shouldn’t settle for less.  These are wise words, enterprising men quote ‘em,” He cocks his head to the side, allowing his grin to fully light up his face as he captures Y/N’s attention within his. “Don’t act surprised, you guys, ‘cause I wrote ‘em. OWWW!”

Although Y/N’s expression stays neutral, he can see a twitch in her cheek at his loud exclamation, and Harry begins to exaggerate his actions even more as he gestures towards her with twinkling emerald eyes. “But Hamilton forgets!  His plan would have the government assume state’s debts.  Now, place your bets as to who that benefits.” Harry taps his chin symbolically, feigning thought, and then points towards Y/N with dramatized realization. “The very seat of government where Hamilton sits.”

Keeping her own eyes locked on the road ahead of them, Y/N gives a quick yet defiant shake of her head, the corner of her lip raised just a fraction more than it was a moment before. “Not true!”

“Ooh, if the shoe fits, wear it.” Harry’s simper continues to grow with the warming attitude Y/N’s beginning to display, and he shakes his head in return and raises his free hand in a questioning manner as he continues to rap along. “If New York’s in debt, why should Virginia bear it?  Uh, our debts are paid, I’m afraid.” He lifts his fingers into his curls, running them through his roots and pretending to fluff the ends poshly for a haughty effect. “Don’t tax the South ‘cause we got it made in the shade.” Tapping a jeweled finger against the dashboard, Harry emphasizes the beats of his next line. “In Virginia, we plant seeds in the ground.  We create; you just wanna move our money around.  This financial plan is an outrageous demand, and it’s too many pages for any man to understand!” He pretends to flip the endless pages of an imaginary novel, and then snaps his wrist dismissively with a cocky smirk, deftly guiding the car around the curve of the road with his other hand. 

“Stand with me in the land of the free, and pray to God we never see Hamilton’s candidacy.  Look, when Britain taxed our tea, we got frisky—” Harry rolls his chest to the rhythm of the song, his dimples deepening in his cheeks as he reaches over towards Y/N and pinches at her side playfully, warmth erupting across his veins when she squeals in surprise. “Imagine what gon’ happen when you try to tax our whiskeyyyy.”

“Thank you, Secretary Jefferson.” Washington says through the speaker as Y/N smacks his hand away and purses her lips, appraising Harry with a raised brow. “Secretary Hamilton, your response.”

For a moment, Harry waits with bated breath, thinking that Y/N won’t rise to his challenge.  She’s too angry with him, for some reason he can’t fathom, and when she opens her mouth, he assumes she’s just going to tell him off for—

“Thomas, that was a real nice declaration.  Welcome to the present, we’re running a real nation.  Would you like to join us?  Or stay mellow doin’ whatever the hell it is you do in Monticello?” Y/N rolls with the music just as Harry had, his rainbow cardigan slipping from her shoulder as she gestures towards him with ridicule. “If we assume the debts the union gets a new line of credit, a financial diuretic.” She lists off each subject on her fingers, making a sour face at Harry. “How do you not get it?  If we’re aggressive and competitive, the union gets a boost—” She slaps her hand down against her thigh passionately, as if his side of the imaginary argument appalls her. “You’d rather give it a sedative?”

Harry barks out a laugh as Y/N’s expression grows more incredulous, mocking him in character as if they were really on a Broadway stage, and not his ‘67 Cadillac driving down a highway in California. 

“A civics lesson from a slaver.” She snorts, reaching across the seat and tapping her knuckles against Harry’s head with a light touch. “Hey neighbour, your debts are paid ‘cause you don’t pay for labour.” She mimics his voice, right down to the slight British tinge that had made it into his Virginian twang, throwing up her hands and shaking them in an overexaggerated motion as she quotes him. “‘We plant seeds in the South.  We create’— Yeah, keep ranting.  We know who’s really doing the planting.” 

One of Harry’s hands shoots up towards his mouth and forms a fist, which he presses against his lips in fake astonishment at her dig, joining the background vocalists in howling. “Ooooh!”

The mortal gestures towards him with renewed fervor in her eyes that barely hides the amusement lingering in her irises. “And that’s another thing, Mr. Age of Enlightenment.  Don’t lecture me about the war; you didn’t fight in it!”

Harry bites back the jesting retort of “No, but Mitch did.” that nearly rolls from his tongue.

The minimal restraint goes unnoticed by Y/N, who continues her scathing attack on Harry’s alter ego as she points over her shoulder with her thumb. “You think I’m frightened of you, man?  We almost died in the trench,” She pinches together her index finger and thumb and brings them to her mouth, and the ease at which the mimicry of a joint comes to her makes Harry wonder if she’s ever actually smoked one. “While you were off getting high with the French!  Thomas Jefferson, always hesitant with the President.  Reticent— there isn’t a plan he doesn’t jettison.  Madison, you’re mad as a hatter, son, take your medicine.  Damn, you’re in worse shape than the national debt is in!” Gesturing theatrically, Y/N lowers her voice, keeping her intensity as she points to Harry. “Sitting there useless as two shits.  Hey, turn around,” she makes a small twirling motion in the air with her forefinger, and then juts two digits upwards as if to stuff them somewhere, “bend over, I’ll show you where my shoe fits!”

Harry bursts into laughter with reckless abandon, wrapping his free hand around his stomach as he bends over the steering wheel.  Reaching towards the stereo dials, he turns down the volume, letting the rest of the track fade to background noise before turning his gaze back to Y/N. 

Just like him, the mortal girl is bent over with fits of  belly laughter, and the sound echoes around the Cadillac in the sweetest way.  Harry would take that over the Grammy-winning soundtrack any day. 

“That was good, love.  You’re a proper Broadway starlette, aren’t you?” Harry says between giggles, rubbing at his dimpled cheeks before settling his hands back on the steering wheel. “Didn’t realize you’d been holding out on me so much.”

“I wouldn’t call that holding out.” The mortal girl counters, fixing the slouching shoulder of Harry’s cardigan as she rests back into the passenger seat with a satisfied air. “You’ve heard me sing all the parts to ‘Non-Stop’ at once.”

“Well, yes, but…” Poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, Harry shoots a cheeky grin at Y/N as he drums his fingers against the leather wheel. “This time you were actually good.”

An indignant scoff falls from Y/N’s mouth as she reaches across the car and smacks his arm.  Harry can sense that she puts a lot of her force behind it, but the action feels as forceful as a fly landing on his shoulder, and he fakes a jostling of his body as he pouts. “You can’t hit the driver!”

“Then don’t insult my Broadway-worthy performances!” She remarks, crossing her rainbow-clad arms over her chest with a defiant air. “I think I’m quite talented— ready to take over the role of Hamilton himself, even.”

The creature rubs over his arm in an attempt to feign soreness, but the simper that’s still dimpled across his face gives him away. “I’m not sure if I’d go that far, peach.  I think I’d give you a chorus role, at best.” He snickers as Y/N’s mouth drops down into a disgruntled frown. “If anyone would be playing Alexander Hamilton, it would be me.”

“Uh, I don’t fucking think so.” She shakes her head adamantly, her brows drawing together in petty disbelief. “They wouldn’t cast a fucking Red Coat in an American Revolution play.”

Harry wedges his plump lip between his teeth at the tauntingly insulting nickname as his mind flickers to Mitch once more.  He’d be amused, Harry thinks, at how this girl seems to so easily mimic the attitude of those who have known Harry for decades. 

“I can do a flawless American accent, love.” Harry’s emphasis on the consonants in his response only highlights his native tone of voice. “But that’s not why I’d be picked to be Hamilton over you. It’s because I just fit the role of the main character better.”

Y/N sputters in her seat for a moment, jaw dropping open at the assured statement. “Are you kidding?” She demands, pressing her palms flat on her thighs as she narrows her eyes. “Like, are you actually fucking kidding?”

“Not one bit.” With his voice dropped to a serious tone, Harry keeps his eyes locked on the road as he replies.

“That is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.  I can’t believe you really—” Y/N sucks in a deep breath through her nose, as if she needs to calm and center herself in order to form a coherent answer, and her playful eyes slowly drift shut. “I grew up in a small town, dated the same guy for five years, was left behind while he went to university, where he then cheated on me, and then I moved from the town I’d never left before all the way across the country to Los Angeles, California.” Opening her eyes once more, Y/N turns her determined gaze back to Harry, collapsing her hands in front of her for emphasis. “I literally followed the ‘smalltown girl moves to big city’ trope.  There are dozens of LifeTime movies that follow the exact same plot.  If that doesn’t say ‘main character,’ I don’t know what does.”

“Mm, I’ll tell you what does.” Harry counters, wagging a ringed finger at the human girl while keeping the rest wrapped securely around the steering wheel. “‘Following the life of a handsome, rich British bachelor with a mysterious past, a great fashion sense, and who happens to be very well endowed.’”

“Oh, please. That says ‘one of two love interests from a Hallmark Christmas movie,’ at best.”

The vampire gasps with faux offense, clutching a hand to his dormant chest as he flickers his eyes to the scoffing girl. “A love interest?  You think that’s all I’m entitled to?” He asks, brow furrowed as he clicks his tongue. “Did you miss the part where I said I had a mysterious past and a huge dick?  Girls would foam at the mouth for me.”

“No, believe me, I know all about those two things.” Y/N snorts, brushing back a loose strand from her eyes before she rolls them. “Unfortunately for you, those are all key characteristics of a protagonist’s love interest.”

A smug smirk overtakes Harry’s face as he flicks on his turn signal, glancing over his shoulder before passing a car that has been going a bit too slow for his liking. “Huh.  Well, I suppose as long as you know that I have those key characteristics— particularly that last one— then I guess I’ll settle. S’the most important of them all, I think.”

He expects his joke to receive a rolling laugh from the human girl, or a noise of acknowledgement at the very least, but all that echoes from her is an empty hum from the back of her throat.  When Harry glimpses her way again, he finds that she’s resumed her previous expression of quiet contemplation, brow creased in thought as she chews on her bottom lip. Concern begins to weigh heavy in Harry’s chest once more.

“Speaking of mysteries, though…” She fiddles with her fingers, twisting one of her rings around a digit the same way Harry does when he’s anxious, and if he were in a better frame of mind, he might take pleasure in the fact that she’s picked up one of his mannerisms. “There is something I’ve been wondering.  About you, I mean.”

From her closed off body language and sudden shift in mood, Harry knows that this has something to do with the guarded and upset expression she’d had when he’d first picked her up.  And, from her lead in, he knows that his assumptions were right: her unsettled demeanor has something to do with him.  Although the possibilities leave a feeling of unease in the pit of his belly, Harry’s curiosity and his need to satiate her wariness wins out, and he forces himself to nod and ask, “What is it, dove?”

Y/N opens her mouth, but no question falls out.  From the corner of his eye, Harry watches as she closes her mouth again, as if she’s decided against asking whatever it is that she wants to. Harry is just about to encourage her to make her inquiry when a surge of confidence suddenly overtakes her body, and she’s spitting it out in a quick and confused voice.

“Why haven’t you introduced me to your friends?”

Out of all the causes for her guarded demeanor, the topic of his friends had been the farthest from his mind.  The question catches Harry so off guard that he, for what feels like the first time, doesn’t have a quick response already formed on the tip of his tongue.  Instead, his own mouth falls open in surprise, and he casts a quick look at the girl from the edge of his emerald eyes before turning back to the road in front of him.

He knows the answer to her question, of course; it’s the same answer that he’s given to his friends every time they’ve asked him to invite Y/N to a bar trivia night, or a weekend barbecue, or a club outing.  And, truthfully, it’s a question that’s been floating more at the forefront of his mind for the last few weeks as he and Y/N have continued to spend time together, gradually becoming a constant in each other’s lives. However, he didn’t expect it to be at the forefront of her own, as well.  

And the answer, really, is quite simple: if Y/N were to spend time with Harry’s gang of friends, there would be a larger possibility of her realizing that there’s something off about all of them.  Like how they all have a specific jeweled accessory that they’re never without, or how none of them seem to ever grow weary, or how they all have the same cold skin and slight shadows around their eyes.  Surely her keen eyes would catch how, despite the copious amount of shots and number of pints they throw back, none of them seem to become inebriated as easily as normal people would, and they can walk out of a club with their heads held high, free of stumbling or exhaustion.  It’s with careful planning and—truthfully— sheer luck that Harry’s managed to present himself with a halfway-human appearance, and he has no doubt that it would be ten times harder to keep up that charade when the chances of her discovering what he is quintuple.

“Uh…” His brow furrows while searching for a valid response to give to the mortal beside him— one that would avoiding hurting her feelings, while still sounding believable. “I-I dunno, really.  I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

The quiet “oh,” that slips from Y/N’s downturned lips alerts Harry that, no matter what response she was expecting, that wasn’t the right one.  She tightens her cardigan-clad arms around her middle as she nods tightly, keeping her gaze fixed pointedly on the passenger window.

Harry rubs his bottom lip with his ringed index finger— another nervous tic of his— as he tries to remedy the tension that’s been brewing between them since she first stepped into the car. “I mean… this whole thing—” He gestures between the two of them, and although the urge to take her hand makes his fingers twitch, he returns his grasp to the steering wheel instead of allowing himself to try and extract her palm from the fabric it’s hidden beneath. “— has been between just the two of us, so I didn’t really think… it mattered.” He finishes lamely, knowing that his justification is just making things worse. “Does it need—?  I mean, did you want—?”

“Well, it’s just…” Y/N lifts and lowers her shoulder in one quick motion, the cardigan once again sliding down to reveal the strap of her tank top underneath and a path of smooth skin that Harry yearns to touch. “It’s kind of like a— I don’t know, a marker?  Like if something is going… well…” She spares him a quick glance before returning her gaze to the passing scenery. “You tell your friends.  I’ve, um, I’ve told mine about you— like, my friends back home, over the phone— and if they weren’t so far away, I know they’d want to meet you, so I guess I—”

“You’ve told your friends about me?” Harry cuts over her, the shock laden in his voice raising it from its usual low drawl. “What did you tell them?  What did they say?”

An anxious flush begins to creep up Y/N’s neck and onto her cheeks, and Harry suspects that it’s not from the warm wool of the cardigan. “I did, yeah.  A couple weeks ago.  They called and asked how I was doing, if I had made any interesting friends yet.  And, well— I’ve pretty much only got you right now, so I kind of had to say something.” She lets out a weak laugh, more air than anything substantial. “I just said that we, um, we were seeing each other, kind of.  Like, mostly we’re friends, and we hang out, and—”

“We do more than hang out.” A grimace tugs at Harry’s own lips at her simplified explanation of their complicated relationship, and he risks an elongated look at the girl beside him, trying desperately to read her expression with no success. 

“I know that, but— like, we’re not dating, right?  It’s not… that was the best explanation I could give.  I don’t think there’s a proper label for what we are— not that we need one.” Although Y/N’s laugh holds more substance this time, Harry can still detect an undercurrent of tension in the sound. “Either way, they said they wished they could meet you, so I was just wondering— your friends know about me, obviously.  We’ve met a few times quickly, but we’ve never, like, had a proper introduction, you know?  I met Xander and Niall in the hallway, and Mitch briefly when we were having a movie night at your place… you talk about Adam a lot, too, and I’ve never even seen him in person.” Turning her head towards Harry with slow hesitation, Y/N worries her bottom lip between her teeth, her expression so frighteningly open that it makes Harry’s stomach turn. “Do they not… do they not want to meet me?”

Despite the quiet and cautious cadence of Y/N’s voice, and the way it twists around Harry’s unbeating heart like a vice, the question draws a soft laugh from the vampire.  Shaking his head adamantly, Harry rakes a hand through his curls before it goes to tap against the steering wheel decisively. “No, sweetheart, that’s not it.  They’re actually quite eager to meet you. As of late, I haven’t been able get through five minutes without Niall asking about you.  He pries like a gossipy nan and s’been getting on my nerves, honestly.”

Relief spreads through Harry as the admission brings a gentle upturn to the corners of Y/N’s soft lips, but it’s short-lived as another thought pops into her mind, and her cautious tone returns at the realization that—

“So you don’t want to introduce me to them, then.” She states quietly, a clear degree of hurt present in both her tone and her eyes as she twists her body beneath her seatbelt to face him head on.  As certain as she is in her assumption, the cautious shadow that sweeps over Harry’s face serves as confirmation of her statement, and it creates a hollow pit in her belly that grows with each passing moment.

Y/N is aware that their relationship— or whatever it is, because they still haven’t put a title on it, and that’s a whole other complication that she can’t dive into right now— is about as far from normal dating as they can get.  She’d fucked Harry before she knew his last name, he’d told her to take him deeper before he’d even told her where he was from, and he’d asked her on a date two months after they’d met, mostly out of territorial jealousy; everything that they’ve done has been out of the traditional order.  But still, she thinks, picking at her nails as the strain between them becomes palpable in the worst way, there are certain things that you do when you’re interested in someone.  Certain milestones that indicate that a relationship is viable and can be sustained for an extended period of time.  Meeting someone’s friends usually comes around the two month mark, and by Y/N’s calculations, that means they’re nearly two months overdue.

Which is fine, Y/N tells herself, dropping her gaze from Harry’s stormy sea glass eyes as she chastises the self-pity coursing through her veins.  Everything about their relationship has been done out of order; why should meeting Harry’s friends be any different?

Except it is.  As much as she hates it, it just is, because it’s not even that she hasn’t met them.  It’s that Harry, with his guilt-ridden eyes and darkened demeanor, clearly doesn’t want her to.

“Y/N,” His gentle utterance of her name draws her from her thoughts more than his hand crawling across the leather seat does.  It’s not until his cool fingers weave through hers that her fidgeting stops, and she even notices that he’s moved. “It’s not that I don’t want you to meet them, I just—”

“It’s fine, Harry.” She insists softly, despite the tightness in her statement making it obvious that it’s very much not fine.  She pastes a thin smile onto her lips as she shakes her head, trying to appease him as best she can. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Harry squirms in the driver’s seat, tightening his hand around the steering wheel as he heaves a sigh through his nose.  Y/N might be saying that, but the look in her eyes tells a different story.  Does she really think that she can look at Harry with such a wide, wounded expression, and he won’t bend over backwards to make things right?  The thought, although scathing, rings true in Harry’s mind as he worries his cheek between his teeth.  Does she not know the lengths he’s willing to go to just to make her feel better?  For fuck’s sake, he’s making a four hour round trip just to take her to a bookstore in San fucking Diego.  Somehow, without Harry noticing it, this human has managed to influence him in ways he couldn’t possibly imagine anyone ever would again.  Is he supposed to believe that she’s unaware of that?

Shaking his head tersely at her previous reply, Harry squeezes her fingers in his own, clearing the newly formed lump from his throat. “Yes, I do.” He says firmly, looking at the girl from the corner of his eye. “I can tell where your mind is going, love, and I promise you, it’s not as bad as you think.”

“Oh, yeah?” Despite the hurt still splashed across her irises, there’s an echo of a challenge in her tone. “So you just hide all of your… hook-ups from your friends, then?”

“You know I don’t have hook-ups, Y/N.  There’s no one else, there’s just— there’s you.  I only have you.” Harry makes his words as plain as can be, without any joke or teasing to downplay the sincerity of what he’s saying— or attempting to say, because his throat feels so tight that he can barely choke out a single syllable. “And that’s why I haven’t introduced you yet.  I… I like what we have.  This—” He raises their clasped hands, bringing the back of her knuckles to his lips so he can plant a chaste kiss over her soft skin. “I like it.  We’ve spent these last few months in a bubble, just you and me, and it’s been…” A smile tugs at the corner of Harry’s lips, nervous and shy, but tinged with hope. “S’been amazing.  And I’m just… not ready to give that up yet. I…I don’t know how to word it, really.  I’m not good with, um—” With emotions, he thinks to himself. He’s not good with expressing any of this, but he forces himself to try. “It just feels like what we have is something I want to keep private, because it’s special. It’s kind of like when you were a kid and you got a new toy, yeah? And you didn’t want anyone to touch it because you liked it so much, you wanted to keep it all to yourself. It was something so personal, you didn’t want to share it…” 

Harry trails off to look over at Y/N anxiously, and then comes to a sudden realization of the unintentional mistake he’d made by using such a materialistic analogy. His voice comes out rushed and apologetic. “And I’m not saying you’re an object or anything! I just wanted to explain it better and that’s the first thing that popped into my head. Did that...make sense? It probably sounded a bit dense. Or very dense. I’m sorry.” Harry knows he’s babbling aimlessly now, and with a surrendered sigh, he lowers their hands to the seat, still keeping Y/N’s fingers locked tightly with his. “I don’t want to share you, petal.  That’s what it comes down to, really— just me being selfish.  I like having your attention all to myself.”

Y/N listens attentively to Harry’s explanation as a new wave of blood boils to her cheeks, warming every inch of her body.  As much as she still has her doubts— about his reasoning, about their whole arrangement— she wants to believe him.  She wants to believe him more than anything in the world.  

So do it, she tells herself, grazing her lip between her teeth as her gaze remains glued on Harry’s (ridiculously attractive) side profile.  Believe him.  He’s never given you reason not to.

“Okay.” She finds herself saying, and she decides that it’s her turn to raise Harry’s knuckles to her lips for a kiss.  His skin is cool against her mouth, as always, and she lingers against him before lowering their intertwined hands to her lap. “I get it.  I like what we have, too; I don’t want it to change.  Plus,” She can’t resist tacking on a dig, glancing at Harry with a sly look. “From the brief interactions we’ve had, I think Niall and I are pretty compatible, so I don’t blame you for wanting to keep us apart.”

Although Harry barks out a laugh, he barely manages to hide the flash of crimson that streaks through his eyes at the suggestion. “Please,” He shakes his head as he strokes his thumb over the back of Y/N’s knuckles in a possessive manner. “I’m not worried about Niall.  If I was going to be concerned about you leaving me for any of my friends, it would be Adam.” Y/N shoots him a curious look, and his dimples pop out of his cheeks as he elaborates. “Good sense of humour, attractive, and arguably the most sane out of all of us, present company included.  But he can’t perform in bed like I can, so I think that’s a solid deterring factor.  And I doubt he’d drop everything to drive you to a bookstore you found out about through— where did you say you heard about this place again?”

“Uh,” Y/N drops her gaze from Harry, turning her head straight back to the road as she shifts in her seat. “I, um, I saw it on TikTok.”

The vampire snorts obnoxiously, pulling his hand from Y/N’s to rake his fingers through his rouge curls. “Jesus Christ, of course you did.”

Y/N matches his scoffing with ease, crossing her arms over her chest with a defensive air. “Don’t give me that tone!  This is exactly why I didn’t tell you! You know, you can actually find a lot of valuable information on there—”

“Yeah, because filming yourself doing the Renegade is a really great use of your time.”

“I didn’t say— wait—” The mortal girl quirks an eyebrow as she regards him with disbelieving eyes. “How do you know about the Renegade?”

“There’s a reason we blocked the app from Niall’s phone.”

///

Much to Harry’s relief, the drive back to Los Angeles begins a lot smoother than the drive to San Diego had.  

The bookshop had been extremely similar to the antique store they’d been to a while back— it had the same rustic, messy aesthetic that gives a cozy, homey vibe, and it had sprouted a seed of nostalgia in Harry’s chest. They’d wandered around for a bit with their fingers intertwined, rarely breaking away from each other for too long for the sake of maintaining their buddy system. The pair had filtered through the extensive array of titles and knickknacks, walking under archways built out of novels and winding through tall shelves full of vintage collectibles. Y/N had entertained herself with grazing over the spines of all the different books they’d passed, her eyes glazed with a form of childlike wonder he’d grown so fond of seeing. And while Y/N had been losing herself in all the old treasures the shop had to offer, Harry had found himself losing his thoughts to her dreamy smile instead. 

Satisfied with her purchases of Wuthering Heights and Romeo and Juliet, as well as a used copy of Jane Eyre (“Look, Harry, it has little notes in it from the previous owner!  Isn’t that neat?”), Y/N had settled into the passenger seat with ease, a light smile on her face as she buckled her seatbelt.  Harry’s own mood is considerably brighter than it had been on the previous drive, but his shift in energy had only partially been caused by his purchase of a new Simon and Garfunkel album.  Truthfully, Harry thinks, as he watches Y/N thumb through her new second-hand annotated book (the irony of her affinity for literature written from Harry’s original time period is not lost to him), his attitude is merely a mirror of the girl next to him.  It’s much more difficult to be in a good mood when she’s in a sour one, but on the flip side, it’s nearly impossible to be grumpy when she’s showing such a sunny disposition.

Her inquiries from their drive to the bookstore are worrying him, of course.  He knows that he’ll have to introduce her to his friends eventually, especially if he wants to keep this agreement between the two of them up.  He also knows that it’ll be ten times harder to do so with Niall running his mouth, Xander making sly digs, and Mitch and Adam watching him with parental-like concern.  Perhaps it would be easier to just call this all off right now, before things continue to progress.  It would certainly be better for Y/N, he’s sure of it.  Y/N, who gets excited over annotations in her books.  Y/N, who sings along off-key to the radio even when she doesn’t know all the words.  Y/N, who innocently presses tender kisses to his throat in a manner that draws an obsolete warmth from every limb of his undead body, and who smiles at his stupid inappropriate jokes and returns them with her own, and who fits into his arms like she was made for the sole purpose of filling them perfectly.

Y/N, who is reaching between the two of them, intertwining their fingers together with a practiced motion, and—

“Thank you for taking me to the bookstore.” The human girl murmurs, her lips grazing the back of Harry’s knuckles as she speaks. “I really do appreciate it, although I’m sorry I pulled you away from your friends.”

Harry’s woes melt away as she pecks across his icy skin, and a grin begins to jolt his lips as he brings her hand to his own mouth. “Don’t be sorry.” He smears a kiss to the back before dropping their tangled palms to the seat between them, his thumb caressing over her velvety flesh. “You’re much better company than the four of them.  And much prettier.”

“You’re such a flirt.” Y/N rolls her eyes at the comment, but leans further towards Harry in her seat. “And a liar.  We both know that Mitch is prettier.”

“Mitch?” Harry’s emerald eyes widen in appalled surprise, the corner of his lips twitching once more in amusement. “Out of all of my friends, you think Mitch is the prettiest?  What about Xander?  He’s quite the vain one, don’t you think?”

Y/N shrugs one shoulder in a light manner. “I like Mitch’s hair.  The long style works for him.”

“Ah, it’s the hair.  That makes sense; it’s always the hair.” Nodding sagely, Harry allows his lips to pull into a full grin. “So you like it long, hm?  Suppose I should keep growing mine out, then?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Sherlock.” Y/N shoots him a smirk that’s much more mischievous than his own. “I said the long hair worked for him, not you.  Who’s the vain one now?”

Despite the jesting tone of her voice, jealousy twinges in the back of Harry’s mind as his eyes darken from emerald to forest green.  He forces his lips to stay upturned as he offers a response that’s only half a joke. “Ouch, Watson.  S’not very nice, especially considering how I’ve driven you to San Diego and back today.  I think I deserve a bit of praise, don’t you?  Instead of you mocking me—”

“I’m not mocking!” Y/N’s protest is muffled around the entertainment in her voice, the rainbow cardigan once again slipping from her shoulder as she shakes with suppressed laughter. “Making one little comment isn’t mocking!  It would be mocking you if I acted like you do when you get in front of a mirror— you make this one specific face, like you’re trying to pull a Blue Steel, and—”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Harry huffs as he yanks his hand away from Y/N’s, swiping it through his loose ringlet before clamping it back around the steering wheel. “Ungrateful little wench, aren’t you?  I have half a mind to pull over right now and—”

“A wench?  I’m a wench?” Y/N’s laughter grows louder, filling the entire Cadillac with the unabashed sound that, despite his act, warms the pit of Harry’s stomach. “Alright then, Merlin. What, are you going to put me to work in a labour house?  Is that what a wench does these days?”

“First of all,” Harry quips, giving her a flat glimpse, “I’d be Arthur, not Merlin. Main character complex, remember?”

Y/N rolls her eyes grandly, proceeding to lower her head in a dramatic bow. “My apologies, sire. How could I forget?” 

“And second of all,” the vampire states slightly louder, talking over her sarcasm, “no, because apparently, all wenches do nowadays is just make fun of the men who volunteer to spend four hours in a car with them without so much as a ‘thank you.’”

The mortal girl’s upturned mouth drops open in amused disbelief. “What—?  I said thank you!  Literally three minutes ago!” 

“Did you?  I don’t recall.” Harry sighs airily as he smoothly guides the car around a bend in the road. “All I remember is you saying you think Mitch is sexier than I am.”

Snorting loudly, Y/N crosses her arms over her middle as she gives a small shake of her head. “Alright, I think that’s a bit of a stretch.  I just said he has nice hair.  And, while we’re on the topic—”

“Watch it.”

“— his mustache is cool, too.  It suits him.”

“You know, I could grow a mustache if I wanted to.” Harry can’t help the pout that plumps his lips, nor can he help the whine that creeps into his voice when Y/N giggles at the sight. “It’s true!  I could!  I just choose not to.  And, really, you should be thanking me for it, because it saves you from getting a carpet burn between your thighs.”

“So I should be thanking you for driving me today, for not growing facial hair…” Y/N ticks off the items on her fingers with a ridiculing gleam dancing through her eyes. “Anything else we need to add to the list?”

Harry tuts as he thinks, pursing his lips in consideration before letting out a sharp exhale as a sly smile carves his dimples into place. “That cardigan you’re wearing.  You could thank me for letting you borrow it— although ‘stealing’ might be a more accurate term.”

A miffed expression rises to Y/N’s face just as a flush does. “I didn’t steal it!  I’ve just been borrowing it, like you said.”

“Mmm.  Alright.” Harry hums in the back of his throat as he glances at the girl beside him, kinking a brow expectantly. “And when can I expect it back?”

“Fairly soon, actually.  It—” Y/N’s cheeks boil with more heat as she drops her attention to her lap, clearing her throat gently before continuing. “It, um, it doesn’t really smell like you anymore, so…”

Silence falls between the two as Y/N’s voice drifts off, leaving behind only the sound of Fleetwood Mac gently drifting through Harry’s speakers to cut through the thickening tension that fills the vehicle.  It’s only the faint sound of Y/N’s own shallow breaths that reminds Harry that he needs to fake his own, and he sucks in a deep gasp of air, his throat burning as her thick honey and lavender scent settles on the back of his tongue.

“Well,” He begins cautiously, gauging her reaction from the corner of his eye while keeping most of his gaze glued to the road. “You can always steal it again after I get it back, yeah?  It’ll be good as new.”

Harry nearly heaves an audible sigh of relief when he sees the edge of Y/N’s mouth twitch. “Not steal.  Borrow.” She corrects, her voice as tentative as his.

The heavy atmosphere in the car begins to dissipate as Harry rolls his eyes with fondness. “Agree to disagree, dove.”

Y/N lets out a sound of dissent as she rubs her palms down her legs, drumming her fingertips against her knees with finality. “Thank you for letting me borrow it, H.  And thank you for not growing a mustache.” She giggles out, throwing a coy smile his way before her expression grows more gentle. “And thank you for driving me today, although I’ve already said it.  I’ll have to think of a way to repay you.”

“Oh, I could think of a few.” Harry says with a suggestive smirk, thrumming his ringed fingers against the steering wheel. “How do you feel about spending the night?  We could order dinner from that Thai place you like, take a nice bath, and I could spend a few hours between your thighs while you make those sweet little noises I like so much.  Sounds relaxing, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” Y/N agrees, keeping her voice as light as she possibly can at the mention of Harry’s skilled tongue working her over. “But that doesn’t seem like much of a thank you on my behalf.  Shouldn’t I be the one giving you something?”

Harry casts a look at the mortal girl with a raised brow. “Shouldn’t I get to choose my own reward?”

The fact that he sees the action of eating her out as a reward makes Y/N’s tummy froth. She really doesn’t know how she got so lucky, truly. “You should, but I can think of something better.”

The creature licks his lips once at the promise of something more enjoyable than her taste on his tongue. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to a blowie in the bath.”

“Actually…” Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as she casts Harry a sideways look through her lashes, twisting her body beneath her seatbelt to angle towards him. “I was thinking of something more immediate.”

The question of what she means by that dies before it can make its way out of Harry’s mouth, stopped in its tracks the moment Y/N’s fingers travel across the leather seat between them.  She rests her palm on his thigh for a moment before beginning to massage the muscle beneath his trousers, her delicate fingertips just brushing over his inseam as her hand works its way higher.

A choked groan is all Harry can manage when her touch travels over his suddenly-growing bulge, and it takes all of his focus not to veer the car off the road. “Y/N,” He says, his accent low and thick with warning. “‘M driving, sweetheart.”

“I know.” Her voice thrums darker than normal as her palm presses flat against him, moving in a slow circle over the plaid fabric with insistence. “I didn’t ask you to stop, did I?  You can keep driving.”

The laugh that rolls from Harry’s lips is breathless and strained. “Yeah, except I can’t when you’re— fuck—” Y/N squeezes along his hardening shaft, and Harry tightens his hands around the steering wheel with nearly enough force to bend it. “‘M gonna crash this bloody car if you keep doing that.”

“No, you won’t.” The mortal girl smiles sweetly at him as her nimble fingers pop the button of his tartan slacks, grasping his zipper and tugging it down so slowly that it’s almost painful. “You can multitask, can’t you?”

“Not like— God—” Clenching his jaw, Harry casts a pained glance at Y/N, only allowing himself a moment of looking before forcing his attention back to the road.  What he sees in that moment, however, is a mischievous glint in her eyes that’s hidden beneath set determination, and the combination would send a shiver down his spine even without her soft hand creeping beneath his trousers. “This doesn’t feel like a reward, pet.  Feels like torture.”

Y/N shrugs lightly, continuing to rock against Harry over his boxers as her free hand reaches for her seat belt and clicks the release button. “Maybe it is.  Maybe I want to see if you can stay just as focused as I did when you made me cum on that ladder. Remember?  Right in the middle of that antique mall?”

Harry watches as her seat belt retracts, a flash of worry striking through his body. Before he can voice his concern for her safety, her hand is dipping beneath the waistband of his boxers. “Y/N,” He strains to get her name past his lips, his abdomen tightening as she grips him snuggly, and her palm feels like agony and salvation all at once. “If you make me cum in my pants with an hour left in our drive, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Or maybe…” Shifting across the seat, Y/N leans into Harry’s ear, her breath hot against his cool skin as she pumps him slowly and ignores the comment he’d moaned. “Maybe I just feel the way you did that day.  Maybe I want to tease you a bit.” She uses the precum that’s begun to steadily leak from his tip as lubricant, twisting her hand around his length to elicit a hiss from Harry’s clenched jaw. She takes the shell of his ear between her teeth, nibbling at it just to feel him writhe in response. “What was it you said to me, H?  When you slid your fingers inside me in that little music room?”

Harry offers no response other than the short puff of air that leaves his nostrils as he clenches the wheel harder beneath his palms.  He keeps his eyes locked on the road, knowing that if he looks down and sees Y/N working him beneath his slacks, he won’t be able to restrain himself from yanking the car to the side of the road and throwing her into the backseat.  And however wonderful that sounds— because it does sound incredibly wonderful, especially when Y/N swipes her thumb teasingly over his bubbling tip— he can’t let himself give into her.

Y/N, however, doesn’t seem to accept defeat so easily, and begins to drift her lips down Harry’s jaw and neck.  While the area had previously been a sensitive spot for Harry in the worst way, he’s repeatedly come to find that the sensitivity he feels when Y/N caresses him there to be an entirely new and pleasant sensation. 

“You said you wanted to have fun, remember?” She licks over the curve of his throat, her own breathing growing heavy when she feels Harry’s Adam’s apple bob beneath her tongue. “Now it’s my turn, don’t you think?”

“Thought—” Harry swallows thickly again, his hips unconsciously thrusting up slightly into Y/N’s hot palm. “Thought this was about thanking me, wasn’t it?  Not getting even.”

Y/N pulls away from his skin with a coquettish look in her wide eyes, her brows raised and lips parted into a small pout. “Are you saying that my mouth isn’t enough of a thank you?”

“Your—?  Oh, fucking hell—” Harry nearly swerves the car into the other lane of traffic when Y/N frees his length from his trousers, the cool temperature of the air-conditioned car sending a shudder down his spine.  The sensation only increases when Y/N dips her head down and extends her tongue to tease his cherry tip with the textured surface. “Y/N.”

“That’s what I thought.” The human girl says smugly, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips even when she wraps her mouth fully around his head and sucks gently, just enough to draw a breathless whimper from the man above her. 

With one hand still grasped tight around the steering wheel, Harry threads his other into Y/N’s hair, roughly tangling his fingers between her silky locks.  He doesn’t guide her head as he usually does, but the idea of being able to move her if he wants allows him to feel a semblance of control. 

Y/N clenches her thighs together as she bobs her head down further, heat pooling inside her belly as she feels Harry tug on her hair with the lightest pressure.  She trails the tip of her tongue down Harry’s expanse, following the prominent vein that pulses underneath her touch. “Do you still want me to stop, baby?” She asks softly, looking up at him through her lashes as she pumps him in a slow motion, batting her lashes sultrily. 

“No.” Harry whines the word as he presses his head back into the seat rest, his neck flexing as he forces his gaze to stay pinned on the road. “No, love, just— fuck, just keep going.” He grits his teeth when he feels her nose smudge along one of his fern tattoos, his next phrase coming out as a barely contained growl. “You’re down there already, so you might as well.”

Tucking her loose hair behind her ears, Y/N takes Harry back into her mouth, pushing herself further and further down his cock at a pace that’s nearly agonizing.  Harry twists his hand within her roots to create a makeshift ponytail, holding the locks out of her face so that she can focus better on the task at hand.  He feels the mortal girl smile around his length, her tender fingertips drawing a little heart along his exposed pelvis as a cheeky thank you. 

As the highway straightens out, Harry risks lifting his hand from the steering wheel for a quick moment, and his deft fingers quickly find the volume button of the stereo to lower it to a quiet lull.  He wants to hear every sound of Y/N’s throat opening up for him, and the muted noises she releases at the taste of him in her mouth.  

Of course, all of that is nearly overpowered by his own sounds of pleasure, and he struggles to keep himself quiet as he grips the wheel with renewed force. “Fuck, doll, look at you...I just…Christ.” The last word comes out as an elongated groan, his eyelids fluttering as her tongue massages down his extent in slow and even strokes. “Just like that, darling. God, you’re so good. Such a pretty mouth with such a filthy fucking tongue, hm?”

Harry throws a haphazard glance over his shoulder as another vehicle passes them, and a flash of territorial protection runs through him at the possibility of someone looking into the car and seeing Y/N touching him like this.  The sight of her acting like such a bold little minx is for his eyes only, and that thought combined with her slow, blissful motions pushes him to inch his foot towards the gas.  Harry wants to put a bit of distance between them and the other traffic on the highway, which will insert some much needed privacy into the situation. 

His acceleration, however, is interrupted by a particularly rough bump in the road, and his body jerks in his seat as they drive over it.  He hears the sound of Y/N gagging before he registers the searing sensation of his cock hitting the back of her throat, and he risks a peek downwards to see Y/N’s watery eyes blinking up at him in disorientation.

“Baby—” He tugs her head up from his lap, concern mingling with the pleasure in his voice as he evaluates her well-being.  Her expression is hazy from her ministrations, and she blinks tears from her irises, keeping one hand wrapped firmly around his length as the other wipes away the wetness at the corner of her eye. “‘M sorry.” Harry gulps thickly as he smooths his thumb over Y/N’s scalp, trying to soothe any discomfort he may have caused. “Are you alright?”

Y/N nods in a jerking motion as her mood darkens lustfully, and she swipes her thumb over the glistening tip of his cock before answering. “I’m fine, H.  Just caught off guard.  Don’t worry.” The rasp in her voice is evidence of her actions, and Harry hates how the sound goes straight to his throbbing length in her hand.  Undeterred by the harsh thrust that had choked her a few moments earlier, Y/N leans down once more to smear more sloppy kisses to the head of his prick, rubbing the slit against her bottom lip to elicit a cracked gasp from Harry’s lungs. “Just wanna make you feel good.”

“You—You are.  God, you fucking are.” The praise falls easily from Harry’s raspberry lips as her mouth returns to its previous distraction, fully suckling on the leaking head as her hand continues to work him in a practiced manner. “Feels like a dream, sweetheart, t-the way you take me down your throat like that.”

The mortal girl keens at the validation, and uses it as fuel to push herself further down his shaft again.  She makes sure that she’s mindful of how deep she’s taking him, keeping her hand wrapped firmly around the base as a buffer in case they hit any more rough patches of road.  With that worry eased, she allows herself to focus on massaging his pulsing prick with her tongue, alternating movements with strong sucks to his sensitive tip. She twists her wrist at a rising pace, matching it to the tempo she’s established with her mouth, working him over messily and swimming in the strangled noises that pour out above her.

Y/N sniffles lightly, talking over Harry’s thick cock to the best of her ability, her voice garbled and raw. “You’re so fucking big, Harry. And so pretty, too.” She moves her hand lower down his expanse, carefully cupping his heavy balls and fondling them between her fingers, preening at the fractured grunt that filters from her lover’s taut throat. “And so full.”

“Please, baby…” The immortal’s quiet plea sends electricity coursing through every cell in her body, his grip on her hair tightening to the point where blots of color speckle her foggy vision. “Don’t stop. Just please don’t fucking stop.” 

“I want it.” She whispers around him, the warm breath of her words puffing down his prickling skin and sending goosebumps across his clammy thighs. “I want you to fill my mouth, Daddy. Want every last drop.”

The creature sucks in a rattling breath through the cracks of his teeth, waves of pleasure erupting along his cheeks and down the knobs of his spine, all because of how erotic her delicate voice sounds as it expresses such explicit confessions. “You’re fucking ruining me, dove.” 

The girl tugs at Harry’s balls gently, rolling them around her palm again as she gives a particularly harsh suck. He can’t stop the loud whine that tumbles down his tongue in response, his hips bucking upwards a tad in unrestrained need. “I want you to give it to me, H. Please? Want you so bad.” 

Harry throws his head further back against the headrest of his seat, his jaw dropping open in a silent moan as his heavy eyelids lull over his rolling irises, tears blearing his vision until he can barely make out the road in front of him. “Gonna—Gonna give it to you, pet. Gonna give you every last bit, all for my sweet girl.” 

Y/N hones her blurred sight above her onto Harry’s face, more warmth flooding the area between her thighs. He looks gorgeous as ever, with his prominent features slack in ecstasy, his clavicle cutting into the sweaty skin visible along the collar of his fitted tee, and with his unusually dark eyes framed by his long lashes. His chest is heaving wildly as he tries to keep his composure, his cross necklace glimmering in the sun with every rapid rise of his defined muscles. His sharp jaw is wound taut, the tendon along the structure ticking as he gazes at her drunkenly from above his sculpted cheekbones. His chestnut curls as matted along his temple and over the nape of his neck due to the heat of the moment, his thick brows are knitted together in pleasurable gripe, and his teeth-swollen lips are parted in aroused wonder at how skillfully she’s taking every last inch of him without any hesitation whatsoever. 

Y/N watches him intensely, drinking up every twitch of his expression and every soft groan he tries to stifle, her tongue lapping at him with more excitement than before. Harry locks eyes with her through his foggy haze, the corners of his flushed lips jolting upwards into a cocky open-mouthed smirk when he sees just how fucked he’s got her, despite the fact that he’s barely lifted a finger through the entire process. He slowly tongues over his chapped lips, glimpsing back up towards the highway for a split second to make sure he’s avoiding any other oncoming cars. He then returns his attention to the human, giving her head a playful tug and feeling the tip of his cock nudge along the roof of his mouth, resulting in a low hiss streaming past his condescending simper. “Why don’t you take a picture, princess? It’ll last you longer.” 

Y/N gives a quick squeeze to his balls, sly satisfaction weaving its way into her chest when she feels him jerk in response, a whined curse of, “Fuck me.” slipping through his defenses. “Maybe you should watch your tone while I’m down here.”

Harry raises an eyebrow at her challengingly, his palm grasping the back of her head with more intent and forcing her down, her nose smearing over his tummy as he hits the back of her throat deeper than before. He holds her there for a second, reveling in the way she constricts around him as soft gagging sounds bounce off the walls of his Cadillac. 

After a few seconds, he pulls her back up his cock to a more reasonable length, humming smugly as she shudders and coughs dryly, her eyes twinkling submissively. His voice comes out strained, but its dark and accented tenor holds its usual unyielding authority, as well as arrogant chiding. “And maybe you should learn not to talk back to me. Guess I’ll have to pull the paddle back out sooner than expected, huh?” 

A shiver coils down Y/N’s spine at the reference to that night. It happened a few weeks ago, but the memory is fresh in her mind as if it’s only been hours. It’s nearly impossible to forget, given everything Harry had put her through, and she often finds herself thinking back on it whenever she needs some relief and doesn’t have his company as help. 

The human murmurs her next sentence shyly, her watery eyes regarding him with a certain type of wistfulness that makes his balls ache. “Maybe you should.”

Harry lets out an airy chuckle at her eagerness, which slowly molds into a gravelly moan when she returns to dipping her head with faster, sloppier strokes. A few strands of hair have escaped the ponytail in his palm, and he takes great care in tucking them back behind her ears with his index finger, which then trails across her cheek affectionately. “Maybe I will. But right now, you just worry about finishing me off. Then, we’ll see if I’m feeling up to it some other time— if I feel like you deserve it.” 

Y/N nods her head obediently. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“‘Course, darling. Anything for my proper little slut. Especially when she’s taking me down her throat like such a good fucking girl.” 

Y/N’s only reply is a broken mewl, and she allows herself to become immersed back into the action of giving Harry the orgasm she so desperately wants to deliver.   

She can taste precum as it dribbles onto her tongue, a precursor to Harry’s impending climax, and the flavour makes her center throb.  She has half a mind to remove him from her mouth and beg him to pull over so that she can properly ride him, but she doesn’t doubt that doing so would add hours onto their travel time.  There’ll be time for all that once they’re back at his place, she reminds herself, pulling off of him just enough to lick her lips before lowering herself again.  Right now, there’s just one thing she wants above all else, and if the sounds Harry is making are any indication, she’s fairly close to getting it.

“So fucking close, angel.” Harry pants, his abdomen contracting over and over again as he struggles to keep the car moving at a steady and consistent pace. “Gonna make me cum, aren’t you?  Want Daddy to pump that pretty mouth full?”

Y/N hums around Harry as he yanks on her hair again, more for the sensation than to actually guide her.  Still, she pulls up from his prick with a pop, looking up at him with doe-like eyes as she replies. “Mhmm.” She hums again, giving him a particularly hard pump and delighting in the groan that rolls from his tongue. “Wanna taste you.”

“You— fuck, darling, that’s fucking it.” Harry’s words echo from his throat in a ragged gasp as he twists his jeweled fingers around her locks once more, straining his head back against the seat to keep himself from looking down again as she retakes him down her throat. “I’m gonna fucking— Oh my God, baby, please—”

Y/N digs the nails of her free hand into Harry’s pelvis, scraping over his plant tattoos as she feels his toned tummy tighten beneath her touch.  It only takes one more squeeze of her hand around his balls and one last determined suckle to draw his orgasm from him, and she lifts herself until just the head of his cock is in her mouth as he spills onto her tongue.  Her own eyes flutter shut as she whines at the salty taste, swallowing it down without a second thought.  She keeps her lips locked around him, wanting to capture every aftershock that spurts into her mouth, feeling ropes of cum splatter across her taste buds as Harry squirms against his seat, whining in encouragement.

She continues to milk him for everything he’s worth, repeatedly prodding the twitching vein protruding along his prick and scraping his sputtering head against the inside of her cheek, wanting to urge every last drop out of him. She only pulls away when the young man whimpers from above, shakily tugging on her hair to alert her that he’s crossing into more sensitive territory.

“Fucking shit…” He murmurs weakly, his breathing erratic as he eases off the gas pedal to reduce the car to a slower pace, rather than keeping the accelerated speed he’d fallen into as he came.  He combs his fingers through Y/N’s mussed locks as a faint, exhausted chuckle rolls from his lips, his thumb ducking down to collect a bit of the mess that had seeped out of the corner of her mouth. He pushes the digit past her swollen, colored lips, his breath catching as he watches her clean it off without a single hitch. “God, minx, I’m gonna need a little warning the next time you decide to do that. Thought I was gonna crash the car a few times.”

“You wouldn’t have.” Y/N reassures him quietly, looking up at him with a fond smile before turning her attention to his softening prick.  She licks up one stray bead of cum from his tip, delighting in the strangled sound the action draws from Harry. She then proceeds to carefully tuck him back inside his trousers, buttoning and zipping them up with ease.  She even takes care to tuck his red and black striped shirt back inside the waistband, but only after she presses a gentle kiss to his still-tensed abdomen, nuzzling her nose across his happy trail and feeling butterflies flutter in her belly when he lets out an appreciative mewl.

Harry inhales deeply as he watches her sit up from the corner of his eye, his hand slipping from her hair to his own to fix the disheveled curls. “No, I suppose not.  I have precious cargo.  Speaking of—” He reaches over Y/N’s body, and with one hand still on the wheel, fumbles to fasten her seatbelt back across her chest and lap. “Y’gotta keep this on if you ever do that again, alright?  S’not safe to have it off for so long.”

A fond smile tugs at Y/N’s lips as Harry sews his fingers over her thigh, squeezing lightly over her jeans before massaging the muscle.  She’s noticed that he’s grown more and more touchy and protective each time they’re intimate with each other, and it would be a lie to say she doesn’t enjoy it. “Yes, sir.”

Harry’s fingertips stutter over Y/N’s leg for just a moment, and the twitch of his sensitive cock beneath his slacks nearly causes Harry to swerve the car again. “Fuck, don’t say that right now.” He mumbles brokenly, his voice much more raw than he’d like it to be. “Don’t think my poor dick can handle it.”

Laughter bursts from Y/N’s chests, and the contagious sound draws a giggle from Harry’s own body as she settles her fingers over his, twisting them together in an instinctive motion. “Too sensitive?” She teases, lulling her head back against her seat rest while keeping her eyes focused on him, sweetening her voice down into a babying drawl. “You poor thing.”

A bright pink blush sears itself onto Harry’s cheeks as he clears his throat, tightening his hand around the wheel again to ground himself. “Yeah.  I only really like overstimulation when I’m the one administering it, not the one receiving it.  And you—” He squeezes her thigh as punctuation. “—are much too stimulating, especially when you’re looking at me like that.”

Another honeyed giggle falls from Y/N’s strawberry lips, and the corners of her eyes crinkle as her smile continues to grow. “I like seeing you like this.” She says decisively, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she reaches over and affectionately twirls one of his loose ringlets around her finger. “All flustered.  It’s cute.”

“Are you seriously calling me cute after deep-throating me while I drive?” Harry asks incredulously, a snort echoing from his throat as he shifts around in his seat.  He’s already uncomfortable in his trousers again, both from the wetness she’d left on him and the way her words are making him stiffen again. 

“Mm.” Y/N thrums in agreement as her free hand reaches for the stereo, dialing up the volume again so the sounds of The Kinks can be heard without strain. “I think you’re cute— very cute, actually.  Even moreso when you get all blushy. Am I not allowed to say that?”

Another layer of warmth soaks itself across Harry’s small ears and stinging nose, and he tries to play off his childish reaction with a casual scoff. He can’t deny the way the compliment makes him feel, though. It’s different from the praise she usually gives him, which tends to be sexual and in the heat of the moment. But this is much more intimate in such a sweet and tender manner, and he hasn’t received that type of innocent attention from someone in much too long. He likes it, he decides. Especially when it comes from Y/N.

She makes him weak, and though he’d normally seethe at the idea of anyone ever making him weak again, he comes to find that the softness she coaxes from him is something so different from the mainstream definition of that dangerous word. She makes him weak, yes, but not in a destructive sense. This girl— this simple mortal girl with bones made of glass and skin of fine velvet— makes him weak in the knees, and in the pit of his stomach, and in the cement walls he’d built around his phantom heart. She makes him vulnerable in new places that have been entirely foreign to him for the last twenty decades, if the glowing warmth surging through him is any indication. And for the first time in a while, he’s beginning to think that maybe— just maybe— that’s not such a terrible thing.

The vampire comes to the sudden epiphany that being weak for someone is unorthodox to him because it’s a human trait. Allowing yourself to form a deeper connection with someone— with a person completely the opposite of what you are— requires compassion and understanding. It requires willingness and empathy, as well as trust and pure intentions. It requires humanity. And that’s what Y/N is doing, Harry realizes. She’s taking that last wilted shred of humanity he possesses and is urging him to use it. Even though it’s not intentional on her behalf, and even though she has no idea of just how small that fragment of humanity is, it’s somehow miraculously working; just her being the caring soul she’s always been seems to be enough to awaken that part of him. 

Despite the fact that the immortal would normally laugh at such a stupidly cringey and cliche concept, there’s no denying that at this point in their little LifeTime movie crossover, it’s true. That’s why it feels so utterly weird— she’s bringing out a side of himself he hasn’t shown in literal centuries. She makes him feel the one sensation he didn’t think was possible for him to ever experience again: She makes him feel alive. 

Oh.

…Oh. 

Harry snaps himself out of his inner turmoil, sucking in a shaky breath and exhaling slowly, releasing all his consuming thoughts. Relying on his supernatural impulses to focus on any oncoming hazards, the creature allows himself the indulgence of shifting his hunter eyes onto Y/N for a lingering glance.  The sun is just beginning to set outside the car window, ducking over the cityscape and washing the distant buildings in mellow shades of soothing pinks, cozy oranges, and buttery yellows. The colors cast a golden light through the glass of his car, and it settles onto Y/N’s soft features like stardust, highlighting her flyaway hairs, the gentle slope of her plush lips, and the dreamy tinge in her captivating eyes.  

If Harry didn’t know any better, about both what she is and about not believing in such ridiculous tales, he’d think she was an angel.  Not that an angel would ever be seen with the likes of him.

“Y’can say that, petal.” He murmurs after a lengthy pause, reluctantly returning his attention to the long stretch of road in front of him, his palm still secured over Y/N’s denim-covered thigh.  If he focuses enough, he can feel her pulse through the fabric, and the steady thumping sends a strange prickling through his hand and into the rest of his body. “You can say whatever you’d like, and I’d listen.”

“Oh, is that so?” She pokes at him with a cheeky grin, using her nail to absentmindedly trace the blood red daylight crystals embedded into the eyes of his lionhead ring. “So you’re actually offering to listen for once, instead of making your cocky little comments?”

The edges of the vampire’s lips jolt with endearment. “Just this once, yeah.” 

Except it’s not just this once, Harry thinks to himself, adding on the words he will most likely never have the courage to speak aloud. I’d listen to anything and everything you have to say. No matter how small and insignificant it may be, or however random and useless you might think it is. I’d listen. For you, always.

Harry doesn’t express his private thoughts, but he pretends that he has, and he pretends that the smile Y/N is gifting him at the moment is her heartfelt response to his silent confessions. 

He adores it more than he should, and how could he not? It’s so blinding, he thinks it could very well burn him.

///

It’s not that Harry is nervous for tonight, because he’s not.  

Spending his Friday nights with Y/N has become as regular as clockwork, and Harry knows that it’s overdue in their routine for him to cook a dinner for her, given that she’d had the courtesy of doing it for him. He’s already picked up her favourite red wine to accompany the gnocchi recipe he’d sweet-talked Vincenzo into sharing with him (Gnocchi al Vostro Gusto— the one she’d enjoyed on their date at Bella Vita), as well as snagged all the ingredients for the lavender lemonade cocktail he planned to make her when she first arrived.  He’d even gone so far as to freeze a few petals from edible flowers into his cubed trays earlier in the day, just to up the ante on his already stunning presentation.  

He’s already set out shining dinner plates along his kitchen island, tidied and dusted his entire condo, and made each of his friends promise to leave him alone for the night.  He’s prepared everything that’s been within his power into sheer perfection; nothing could possibly go wrong.  So he’s not nervous, because everything is fine and because he never gets nervous. Being nervous is for morons, and he’s far from being one, so he just isn’t. It’s that simple. There’s absolutely no reason to be nervous. 

Except that he can’t manage to get his mahogany belt to lie properly against his waist (he’d searched in vain for his black Gucci belt with the logo buckle, but hadn’t been able to find it), the woven leather tail twisting repeatedly whenever Harry tries to tuck it beneath the rest of the belt.  And while the rational part of his mind knows that this doesn’t matter, and that he can just guide the tail into a loop along his olive trousers, the irrational part of his mind— which, unfortunately, just happens to be in control at this very moment— knows that tucking it in won’t look nearly as chic as folding it just right to lay the excess along the length of his thigh.

He’s already crafted the rest of his outfit so carefully, spending almost an hour deciding on the red and black patterned vest to pair with the trousers, and an additional forty-five minutes choosing which short-sleeved button up to layer beneath it.  He’d ended up picking a yellow top with indigo swatches along the collar, proceeding to tuck the shirt sleeves up along the sleeves of the knitted vest to give the fit a stylish flare. Harry thinks he looks good (although, to be fair, he always does), but he knows that if he turns his attention back to it for too long, he’d end up tearing it off and starting all over again.  However, judging by the clock that’s ticking from his bedside table, Harry knows that isn’t an option.  It’s 5:42 PM, and Y/N had said she’d be here by 6:00, and if Harry isn’t ready by the time her delicate knuckles rap against his front door, then she might just decide to turn on her heel and leave, and Harry won’t ever get the chance to ask her—

The creature stops short in his tracks, his fingers freezing over the leather of his belt that he’d just managed to settle into place.  He’s not asking her that, he reminds himself, loosening his limbs just enough to nervously twist his mother’s ring around his pinky.  He’s already decided that— and undecided it, and decided it again— after his road trip epiphany the previous weekend.  It doesn’t matter just how weak, or warm, or alive, or just plain human Y/N makes him feel.  He knows what this is, and has known since the beginning, and there’s just no way that he can bring himself to ask Y/N to be his—

Harry can’t even force himself to think of the word. 

He makes long strides towards his dresser, picking up the string of pearls lying on top of the varnished wood and fastening them around his icy neck.  What meaning could that word even hold for him, anyways?  He’s a vampire, and though Y/N makes him feel the complete opposite, there’s no way he could ever feel so human as to give into the notion of having a girlfriend.  A girlfriend leads to a fiancée, which leads to a wife, which leads to the expectation of a family, and Harry knows that none of those things are compatible with the immortal afterlife he lives now.  If Mitch, who is— by any accounts— ten times the man Harry could ever be, hasn’t even managed to lock Sarah— another vampire— into a solid relationship after three years, how could Harry delude himself into thinking that he could do that with a human?

And even if he, with all his commitment, abandonment, and trust issues aside, could have a relationship with a mortal— not any mortal, he reminds himself, but the only mortal that’s ever managed to capture a sliver of his genuine attention— that doesn’t mean he actually wants one.  Why would Harry ever want to be tied to one place, or one person?  Why would he ever want to have to phone someone before going somewhere, or have to check in on them when they’re doing the same?  Why would he want to deal with having to manage someone’s emotions, problems, and life?  He’s traveled the circumference of the world and back again, and seen more changes to society than any human could ever comprehend. He loves being reckless, and untethered, and not responsible for anyone other than himself. He enjoys being impulsive and not having to worry about his actions falling back on anyone else’s shoulders other than his own. It’s who he is— it’s who he’s been for a while now— and it’s who he had imagined he’d continue to be for another two centuries. 

It’s like that one country song that tormented his radio in the early 2000s— the one about life being like an endless road and about how people should enjoy it while it lasts. He believes the exact words are, “Life is a highway, I want to ride it all night long” or something of the sort. Horrendous song, but it held a pretty decent message. 

So with all of this taken into precise consideration, why would he, in his right mind, ever chain himself to one geographical location, and one single fleeting soul?

The answer floats to the forefront of Harry’s mind as he casts a glance towards his half-opened dresser drawer, where a pair of Y/N’s pastel blue sweatpants are folded neatly on top of his own pairs.  She’d left them there a few weeks ago, and while Harry had washed and dried them for her with the intention of giving them back, he’d decided it would be a better idea to keep them here in case Y/N ever ended up staying the night without planning to.  Just so she’d have something comfortable of her own to put on before falling asleep in Harry’s bed, on the side that he now keeps made up just for her.  

Why would Harry ever tie himself to one person?  Because that person is Y/N, and she’s not just a person.  She is— in every way except officially— Harry’s girl.

Harry can’t even bring himself to deny that fact as he fixes the collar of his shirt and strides out of his bedroom, dimming down the lights before making his way to the glass staircase.  Every issue he’d brought up, every fact that he’s tried to use to convince himself that he doesn’t want a relationship, can’t even be considered an issue when it comes to Y/N.  He already does all of those things— checking in on her to make sure she’s alright, letting her vent about her stress, listening to her problems with an attentive ear, holding her hand whenever they’re together, kissing her forehead while she lays against his chest, switching her to the inside of the sidewalk to ensure her safety, moving strands of hair out of her face so they don’t become a bother— and he does it all gladly.  He’s come to adore the soothing comfort he receives when he walks Y/N to her door after a date, or double checks the locks after she’s inevitably invited him inside.  He delights in calling her during her lunch breaks to inquire about how her day is going, and to remind her that “iced coffee isn’t a substitute for water, peach.  You’ll feel a lot better on your shift if you drink a glass, alright?”  And even when her voice is strained and laden with anxiety as she curls into his side after a particularly rough day, it still sounds like the most beautiful melody he’s ever heard, and the weight and warmth of her body against his own acts like a relaxant to Harry’s cold limbs.  

He rolls his shoulders now as he skips the last two stairs and lands squarely on his leather Gucci boots (they’re one of his favorites, and though they’re a simple black, they have a rainbow impression along the lip that he thinks is quite chic). He releases a long breath as he absentmindedly studies over his art wall, his eyes landing on the painting of a deconstructed sunflower. The abstract piece reminds him of the night Y/N had come over to his condo for the first time, and he begins to feel that annoying yet familiar knot between his shoulder blades that always seems to form when he’s away from her.  It’s something he hadn’t even noticed until a few days ago; how his body grows rigid and stiff whenever they’re separated, like he can’t allow himself to exhale until she’s beside him again.  He supposes it’s a strange vampire tendency— something carnal and territorial inside of him that thinks it’s his job to protect Y/N, the decadent and intoxicating center of his strange obsession, and when she’s not around, unease threads into his muscles until he can be sure his primary source of blood is alright. 

Or maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s something deeper inside him— some other reason to keep her out of any harm and an arm’s length away. However, he refuses to indulge that unsettling mystery right now. It’s too fucking complicated to dwell on.

Ambling into the kitchen, Harry begins to dig through his lower cupboards for the apron he hadn’t bothered to slip on when he was cooking earlier.  Pushing aside the white cover with the words “World’s Best (pancake) Tosser” stamped onto the front (it had been a gift from Niall, delivered with a sly grin and a cheeky comment about how the apron was too accurate to pass up), Harry selects the butcher’s apron printed with the phrase “Mr. Good Lookin’ is cookin’!” He slips the loop over his head and ties the straps behind his toned back with a quick motion, the edges of his lips quirking at the pompous joke. He knows Y/N will make a comment about it. 

He hadn’t bothered with the apron before when he’d been preparing the gnocchi simply because his loungewear isn’t necessarily that important, but now that he’s changed into something much nicer than the t-shirt and sweatpants he’d previously worn— and after he’d struggled with deciding on the outfit for so long— the last thing he wants to do is splash sauce onto himself as he navigates his kitchen.

Harry’s mind continues to race with nearly incomprehensible thoughts as he gathers the last of the ingredients needed to finish the meal, his nimble fingers easily peeling the skin from a clove of garlic before he begins to mince it with practiced skill.  Maybe that’s the cause of all his confusing feelings, he muses as he tosses a knob of butter into his preheated pan, scooping the garlic onto his knife and adding that to the mix as well.  Maybe that instinctual feeling to protect is the root of all his fantasies of a relationship.  He can’t possibly want— can’t actually believe that he’d...

Except he does.  

Sighing grimly as he snags a wooden spoon from a kitchen drawer, Harry nudges the cabinet shut with his hip before beginning to stir the sizzling concoction in his pan.  Somehow, against all odds— against all reason— he’s become attached to Y/N.  So attached that he’d spent an hour begging Vincenzo for this specific recipe when he could’ve so easily googled a different one and recreated it to near perfection.  So attached that he’d driven to three different liquor stores to find her favourite brand of red wine, which he’d set to chill in his fridge hours ago, because even though a cabernet sauvignon is supposed to be chilled for forty-five minutes at most, Y/N likes it icy cold.  So attached that he’d taken care to freeze individual flower petals into ice cubes, just so he could make her a cocktail flavoured with honey and lavender, the exact same way she is.  So attached that, for the first time in twenty decades, the concept of a relationship doesn’t draw a disgusted gag from his throat and doesn’t send a ghostly spike of pain to his neck.

“Doesn’t matter.” He mutters the words out loud to himself, as if speaking them audibly will reinforce their meaning.  Opening the fridge with a rough tug, Harry nabs the quart of cream he’d purchased earlier that day, bending the mouth of it open and pouring it smoothly into the saucepan and giving it a stir.  It doesn’t matter if he wants a relationship, because there’s no way that Y/N does.

A bitter laugh tears its way through his chest as he reaches for the bowl of gorgonzola cheese he’d shredded earlier, scattering the ingredient into the saucepan and slowly mixing it in.  He’s arrived at the same point he has all week when he’s had this argument with himself. The same fact that’s stopped him in his tracks each time he’s dared to think that— if he should ask— Y/N would say yes to him becoming a more permanent fixture in her life.  She’d say yes, he thinks.  Or he hopes, at least.  She’d say yes, until she wakes up in the middle of the night to Harry caged over her with crimson irises, terrifying shadows below his waterline, black veins webbing out from his eyes, and a blood-soaked mouth bared to reveal his dagger-like fangs. Then, she’d be gone.

Not gone, he amends in his head, the thought somber and acrid in his mind as he reduces the sauce to a simmer.  He’d have to go after her, of course, but not in the way a man usually goes after a woman.  Despite how they’d joked about it casually, Harry most definitely doesn’t belong in a LifeTime movie.  No, he’s from a much darker genre— less leading man, more malicious creature that lurks in the night— and the only thing he could do when he chases Y/N down would be to wipe all traces of himself from her mind entirely.  That’s the ending they’d be destined for if he let himself buy into his romantic delusions.  It’s better not to put a label on anything.  No labels keep a degree of separation between their two lives— at least, that’s what Harry tells himself.  And as much as it pains him, a degree of separation might be exactly what they need.

And yet, when Y/N knocks on his door two minutes later, just as he’s sprinkling various ground herbs into the sauce and setting it onto the back of the stovetop to wait until they’re ready to eat, Harry can’t help the giddy grin that immediately decorates his dimples. He hurries to untie his apron and tosses it onto the back of one of the chairs lined against his kitchen island, dragging a ringed hand through his purposefully tousled curls as he nearly super-speeds to the front door of his condo. He trips on his way there, spewing curses as he barely saves himself from face-planting the ground like an imbecile. He straightens himself out with a petty huff, slowing down slightly and being more mindful of every step he takes. His smile has already returned before he even yanks the door open.

Y/N— his Y/N, he allows himself to think affectionately— is dressed from head to toe in his own clothes.  Well, almost head to toe, he corrects, casting a sly glance at the way her black jeans hug the curve of her hips too perfectly to be his own pair.  But he recognizes the black and white speckled short-sleeve button up that’s french-tucked into the high-waisted denim, and shrewdly notes the addition of a Gucci belt looped around her waist— the very one he’d been searching for earlier.  She’s even styled the shirt the same way he does, with half the top buttons undone.  However— Harry licks his lips unconsciously as his eyes hover over her exposed chest— she’s paired the top with a delicate looking black lace bralette that catches his hungry gaze the moment he spots it.  Even the black ankle boots she’s wearing are reminiscent of his own fashion choices.

“Y’know,” Y/N’s amused voice cuts through his stupor, drawing his attention back from the obvious canvas of her body and up to her glittering eyes. “It’s not very gentlemanly of you to check out my tits before even saying hello.”

Harry’s mouth crooks sheepishly in response as he reaches out to her, looping his muscled arms around her waist and pulling her inside the condo and against his body with ease. “Hello.” He murmurs obediently, thumbing at her waist over the silky fabric as a teasing yet fond cadence sews its way into his voice. “So this is where my clothes keep disappearing to, hm?  I searched for that belt for an hour today.”

“Shouldn’t have left it at my apartment, then.” Y/N counters easily, curling her hands against Harry’s chest.  He can already feel her heat beginning to web through his entire being, warming him in a manner nothing has in the last two hundred years. “And you said tonight’s dress code was casual formal— which makes zero fucking sense, by the way— so I figured the best way to conform to that would be would be by wearing your own clothes.” A drop of hesitance begins to colour Y/N’s tone as she casts her gaze towards his own, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she tries to read between his teasing words for any hint of actual annoyance. “Is that… okay?”

“Perfectly okay, angel.” Harry soothes the worry lines that have formed between her eyes by stamping a kiss onto her forehead, allowing himself to linger for a moment to inhale her familiar scent of sugar and flowers.  It seems more powerful today than it usually is, almost bowling him over right there in the foyer, and he takes a step back to regain control of himself under the pretense of closing the door. “Honestly, I’m a little miffed that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

“‘Miffed’?” The mortal girl laughs as she reaches down to retrieve something from the ground, and it’s only then that Harry realizes that she’d had an overnight bag in her hand before he’d tugged her into his grasp and caused her to drop it.  “Who says ‘miffed’?  Are you a sixty-seven year old woman named Betty?” 

Although he allows a chuckle at her incredulous question, Harry’s attention has focused in on the bag inches away from her outstretched hand.  Cursing himself for being too wrapped up in her appearance to notice the item she’d been toting, Harry quickly fetches it from the ground before she can, carrying it further into his apartment before setting it down on one of the island chairs, as if the small distance could make up for the initial lack of manners he’d displayed. 

“No, I’m not.  I’m just British.” He should bring the bag up to his bedroom, he thinks, just so Y/N doesn’t have to wonder where her clothes are when she’s fraught with exhaustion later. But that would mean having to leave her side, and the grip her fragrance has on his senses right now won’t allow him to do so. 

“Oh, yeah! I almost forgot.” Y/N lilts with an exaggerated air, another giggle rising from her petal-like lips as she leans against the marble countertop on her elbow, propping her chin up in one hand and resting the other on top of the stone.  She regards him with all the affection that he doesn’t deserve, and yet always seems to crave, and it takes all of Harry’s willpower to not grasp her chin in his hand and sift their lips together just to taste her laughter. “Along with ‘pip pip’ and ‘cheerio,’ right?”

“Yes, those phrases are definitely at the top of my vocab list.  You’ve heard me say them a million times.” Harry rolls his eyes playfully, shaking himself from his distracted thoughts as he steps back behind the counter to effectively put a little bit of much needed space between him and the mortal girl.  His restless hands are already outstretched to his bar shelves before he even asks, “D’you want a drink, darling?”

Y/N watches with innocent curiosity as Harry sets two lowball glasses down on the counter before reaching into his cupboard for a jar of honey, which he spoons onto an awaiting plate.  He rims the glasses in the syrup before dipping them into sugar, sparking confusion in Y/N as she tries to decipher what cocktail Harry is making her.  Her befuddlement only grows as he extracts a bottle of clear liquid that she assumes is vodka and a purple concoction that she can’t identify. “What are you making?”

“Lavender lemonade.” Harry answers swiftly, reaching into a drawer for the small double-ended measuring cup tool that Y/N still can’t remember the name of, as well as his crystal cocktail shaker.  Y/N observes with wide eyes as he fills the shaker with ice and vodka before picking up the mysterious liquid. “This is lavender syrup.  Not homemade, unfortunately, but I do buy it from a little organic grocer I know at the farmer’s market.  Adds a nice floral note to the drink, and mixes well with the lemonade.” He caps the container and shakes it expertly (the way his muscled arms ripple with effort doesn’t go unnoticed by her, as it never does) before setting it down on the counter and making his way to the fridge freezer. “S’where I get my honey, too.” He chances a look over his shoulder just in time to see Y/N dip her finger into the honey pooled on the plate and pop the digit into her mouth, and Harry has to force himself to tear his eyes away as she sucks lightly on her fingertip, her cheeks just barely hollowing. “Do you like it?”

“Mhmm,” Y/N hums around the digit as she keeps her eyes shamelessly glued to Harry’s ass while he bends down to open the cooled drawer, retrieving a tray of cubed ice and coming back over to add one large block into each lowball glass. “Are there flowers in there?” She asks in wonder after retracting her finger from her mouth with a pop, leaning over the table more to observe the decorative ice that has filled the cups.

“Mm.” Harry matches her hum with a more pleasured undertone, both from her noticing the small detail, and from the unobstructed view of her cleavage that her new position allows him.  He picks up the shaker and strains the light purple lavender and vodka mixture into the glasses, topping off each cocktail with a can of sparkling lemonade that he’d also retrieved from the fridge. “S’pretty, isn’t it?” He asks, stirring the drinks with a spoon before holding up one of the glasses to the light and handing it to Y/N. “My own creation.  You’re the first person to try it.”

Their fingers graze as Y/N accepts the glass from him, sparking electricity up her entire arm, and she can’t help the irreverent moan that thrums in the back of her throat as she brings the glass to her lips, tasting the honey and sugar first before the lavender coats her tongue. “This is so good, H.” She praises, licking a lingering dab of honey from her mouth between her words.  Twisting the glass in her hands as she regards the lilac drink, Y/N eyes him over the rim of the crystal, pupils blown wide. “I didn’t think honey and lavender could ever taste so good.”

“You know, I used to think that, too.” Harry’s mumbles knowingly as his own eyes drift a shade darker. He watches the human girl’s neck strain with her swallow, as if she knows he’s trying to keep his gaze away from there and she’s beckoning him back. “But it’s my favourite flavour combination now.  Can’t ever seem to get enough.”

The comment goes right over the mortal girl’s head, just as Harry knew it would.  His expectations of the cocktail in his hand are also met from his very first sip; although the concoction is delicious, it pales in comparison to the fragrance wafting across the island from Y/N.  He may as well be drinking water, honestly. But he knows he’ll end up repeating the recipe a few more times at the very least, just because Y/N tells him that it’s her favourite drink he’s ever made.

“You say that every time I make you a new drink, dove.” Harry can’t help but quip coyly at the repeated compliment, setting his crystal tumbler against the counter with a quiet thud. “Am I supposed to keep believing it?”

“Obviously. Especially when each drink keeps getting better and better.” Y/N licks a drip of honey from the rim, her tongue delicately capturing the sugar crystals before her lips settle back onto the edge to take another sip. “You would be an amazing bartender, but we’ve already talked about that before.”

“We have, yeah.” Harry smiles softly as he recalls the conversation they’d had weeks ago, where she had said his drinks were better than anything she’d had at a club, and he had responded by saying he doesn’t have the patience to be a bartender. That conversation feels as if it happened a lifetime ago, and considering how much closer they had become since, it quite literally could be. “But refresh my memory, will you? Why is it that I’d make such an amazing bartender?”

Y/N gives Harry a jokingly flat glance as a response to his smug tone, but decides to humor him, nonetheless. “Well, you obviously have the mixology skills, and I don’t doubt that the whole thing you have going—” She nods her head to him over the island with a teasing smirk. “—would get you endless tips.”

“My whole thing?” Harry repeats the phrase with an air of faux confusion. “What do you mean, my whole thing?”

He knows what she means, of course.  But he won’t deny himself an opportunity to hear Y/N feed his ego with sweet-spoken praise.

Y/N doesn’t buy his innocent act for a minute, but still indulges him, yet again.  She likes to see Harry preen under her compliments just as much as he likes to receive them. “You know…” She casts her eyes over his figure slowly, picking out every detail she can comment on as she wedges her bottom lip between her teeth. “Your whole look— the tattoos, the muscles, the dimples, the sparkling green eyes, the shiny curls… all of that would have any drunk customer draped over the bar for you.  And even if you couldn’t get by on looks alone, you’re absolutely charming.  To the point of ridiculousness, honestly, but,” Y/N eyes him suspiciously, and while her words are mostly in jest, she can’t deny that she’s seriously thought them at some point in time. “I’m not entirely convinced it’s genuine.  Although being able to fake that kind of attitude would serve you well in a crowded bar.”

Whatever Harry was expecting to hear among the praise, an accusation of dishonest behaviour wasn’t it.  His brow furrows deeply as his lips turn down into a displeased grimace, and he drums his ringed fingers over the marble countertop as he cocks his head to the side. “What d’you mean?” The question is earnest now, no longer a coquettish teasing remark, and the warmth the mortal girl had provided him with begins to subside as a flash of icy doubt digs shards through his chest. “Not genuine?  Does it seem like I’m faking it or something?”

Y/N teases her lips with her tongue, unable to stop the nervous tic as she hears the displeasure that clearly strains Harry’s tone.  Setting her own glass down on the counter, Y/N lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I just mean, like… I don’t know.  I don’t really think that now, but in the beginning…”

“What?” Harry prompts her with more intensity than he’d meant to, but he’s spent so much of this past week analyzing their every interaction while wrestling with his own thoughts that he’s already on edge; he needs to hear what Y/N had thought of him when they’d first met.  His own recollection of the memories has made him flinch multiple times, particularly the times when he’d thought that Y/N was as boringly ordinary as humans come. He can only imagine what her take on the situation is. “Did I— was I rude, or—?”

“No, no, nothing like that.” She hurriedly assures him, shaking her head hard enough that her loose locks bounce around her shoulders. “You weren’t rude at all— the opposite, actually.  I don’t know, it just seemed… like it was too good to be true, y’know?” Her voice grows impossibly softer as she traces her finger over the rim of her glass, her eyes dropping from Harry’s like it hurts her to hold them. “Like, there was no way that someone could be so attractive, so funny, so good in bed—” Harry can hear blood creep up the nape of her neck against her will, beginning to pour into her cheeks. “—and so charming.  Something had to be an act.”

Despite the urge Harry has to justify his actions, he knows there’s nothing he can say that could prove Y/N’s original perception of him wrong.  And, in all honesty, he has no right to.  As much as he’d like to argue the fact, and as much as he did genuinely come to enjoy being around her, Harry can’t deny that from the first moment he’d approached Y/N in that club, he’d dialed up his charm as he always did without a second thought.  He’d flattered her, flirted with her, done everything he could to convince her that she should take him home so he could indulge in the two things he’s always manipulated people for: sex and blood.  And when that worked, he did it again, and again, and again, until they’d fallen into the pattern they have now.  He’d never lied, of course, and he prides himself on that— every compliment he’d paid her had been rightly deserved.  But even that justification doesn’t stop the shame that’s twisting its way through his limbs and making his head heavy.  

She had thought something had to be an act, and she had been right.  Harry himself was an act, in every aspect of the term— stretching the truth about his past, opening himself up just enough to make her open herself in return, setting her up so that she’d become dependent on their relationship. And all so he could sink his teeth into her neck without a second thought.  

He can’t exactly pinpoint when all that had changed— singing “Non-Stop” in his kitchen?  The jealousy he’d felt when he spotted her on a date with that insipid idiot, Jacob?  Seeing her in that yellow sundress when he picked her up for their first date?— but the fact that it had changed doesn’t erase how it had started. It doesn’t erase the cruelty he’d hidden beneath his calculating words, intricately-placed caresses, and dirty promises.

“Harry.” He’d been so caught in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice Y/N had moved until she’s standing right in front of him, one of her velvet hands twisting into his own as the other tucks a loose curl back from his creased forehead. “I don’t think that now.  You know that, right?” Even after securing the ringlet, she keeps her palm pressed against his cheek, and Harry can’t help but lean into the burning heat her touch provides. “I just— I’d never met anyone like you.  There was no one like you where I grew up.  I didn’t think someone could be so…” Y/N worries her lip between her teeth again, and Harry wishes he had enough in him to smooth the bite mark with a touch as soft as her own. “I didn’t know you yet.  But I do now.”

The vampire inhales a shaking breath as if he needs it to live, lifting his own free hand to wrap over the palm Y/N rests against his cheek.  Weaving his fingers through hers, he drags her hand lower until her skin is secured over his lips, and he smudges a gentle kiss against her handprint.  There’s something so tender in her words— no one could ever accuse Y/N of being disingenuous.  But he needed to hear this, he thinks as he presses his mouth repeatedly to her palm, the throbbing of her pulse in her wrist catching against his cheek.  He needed to hear how she thinks she knows him.  It’ll serve as a reminder that he can’t allow himself to succumb to the weak thoughts he’d battled earlier in the day.  As much as Y/N assumes she knows him, there’s things that she’ll never understand— things he would never allow her to understand, because she doesn’t deserve such a terrifying burden— and how could he keep up that pretense while allowing her to call him her boyfriend?

“I know you do, sweetheart.” Harry mutters the words into her fragile skin, inhaling her intoxicating aroma deeply until his throat burns in agony.  It’s a small price to pay for what he’s put her through. “It’s alright.  I don’t blame you for doubting it.” The smirk he forces onto his face is nowhere near believable, but he manages to keep the strain out of his voice enough to sell it. “I’m pretty hard to believe, y’know?  Especially when you grew up with people like Cucumber Dick.”

Successfully diffusing the moment, Harry’s comment tugs an irritated groan from Y/N’s chest, and she takes a step back from him as her hand falls from his face, despite her other fingers still remaining tied with his own. “You can’t just keep calling him Cucumber Dick, alright?  He has a name!”

“Yeah, Bradley.” Harry says in distaste, his nose wrinkling as he shakes his head slowly. “S’honestly worse than Cucumber Dick.  I’m doing him a favour— a bit of charity work.”

Y/N hums in the back of her throat thoughtfully as she steps back around the kitchen island, Harry’s arm extending over the countertop as she tugs his hand along with hers. “Then don’t do me any favours like that, alright?  Can only imagine what you call me when I’m not here.”

A few names pop into Harry’s mind— dream, darling, angel, and countless others that he’s murmured to himself in the privacy of his condo— but they’re tainted by the memory of his friends confessing how they’ve talked about her when he hasn’t been around to hear it.  How they’ve compared her to different foods, used that to reference her, as if that’s all she is to him.  As if she isn’t the only person who has managed to make him feel something in over two lifetimes.

In the rational part of Harry’s mind— which, once again, is sadly not the part of his mind that’s ever in control— he knows that he can’t blame his friends for thinking that.  It’s his own fault for being so insistent on that fact over the last few months.  How many times had they questioned his motives behind his daily phone calls to her, or how often he found himself dropping everything just to spend some time with her?  How many times had he rolled his eyes at their assumptions that he wanted more from the mortal girl than he’d ever admitted?  How many times had he asserted that there was nothing more that she could offer him than her body and her blood?  They’d only listened to what he was saying, despite knowing that Harry’s reassurances were false.  Did any of them suspect that things had changed for him now?  Or did they still think that Harry’s only motivations behind his relationship with Y/N are primal?

Harry pushes the badgering thoughts from his head as best he can as he reaches for his apron that’s still lying over the back of the chair.  He can’t dwell on those thoughts now.  If the turmoil twisting inside of him hasn’t subsided by the end of the night, he’ll call Mitch once Y/N is fast asleep under the extra blanket he keeps on his bed just for her.  Although he doesn’t relish the thought of admitting he was wrong to the likes of Xander or Niall— he knows their teasing and taunting would never end— he can talk to Mitch about it without the worry of judgement.

“Why don’t you put a record on, petal?” Harry asks absentmindedly, nodding his head towards the record player set up in the corner of his living room as he slips his apron back over his head. “I just have to boil the gnocchi, and then—”

“Wait, wait wait,” Y/N cuts over him with an increasingly gleeful expression, rounding the edge of the island again to tug on the strap of Harry’s apron. “Mr. Good Lookin’ is cookin’?” She repeats, unable to bite back the giggles that are rising through her throat. “Please tell me you didn’t buy that for yourself.”

His troubling mindset disappears the moment laughter falls from her lips and echoes around the kitchen. “‘Course I did.  And why wouldn’t I?” Harry simpers as his deft fingers easily secure the ties behind his back in a neat bow. “I’m Mr. Good Lookin’, and I’m cookin’.  S’only the truth.”

“Your vanity is astounding.  Truly.” Y/N trails her finger from the strap of the apron to the pearls around Harry’s neck, stroking the silky stones with the lightest touch. “Like, borderline narcissistic.”

Snaking his arms around her waist, Harry easily pulls the mortal into his body, securing her against his chest just as he had done when she’d first arrived.  It’s comfortable for him to have her pressed against him like this.  The steady rising and falling of her chest and hummingbird beat of her heart against his own unmoving organ keeps him centered, like his own personal lifeline. 

“Is it so wrong to be confident in my appearance?” Harry quirks an eyebrow as his dimples pop from his cheeks, and he slides his hands from Y/N’s back to her ass, cupping and squeezing firmly in appreciation.  His smirk only grows as Y/N’s cheeks begin to boil from the suggestive contact. “How can you contradict me when it gets such a reaction from you?”

“I think that has less to do with your looks and more to do with where your hands are.” She quips dryly, and yet her nails dig into Harry’s exposed collar bones with the slightest of pressure, a surefire sign of just how much his touch affects her.

Harry leans forward as the girl’s breathing grows more erratic, and he nuzzles his nose along hers while keeping the smallest of spaces between their lips. “Either way, I’m getting what I want, aren’t I?”

To his immense pleasure, Y/N’s words are breathy and strained when she replies, a side effect of the shallow inhales her body draws against his. “Which is?” 

“You.  More specifically, you melting under my touch like you just can’t get enough of it.” Harry drags his lips across Y/N’s for no more than a second before continuing his path up her jaw, only stopping when he can feel the flushed shell of her ear beneath his mouth. “You should indulge your vanity a little more often, sweetheart.  S’quite fun, honestly.”

Y/N shivers beneath Harry’s touch, her eyelids fluttering as his cool breath rolls over her ear and down her neck.  Turning her head to the side, she locks her half-lidded gaze with his own before slotting their lips together to indulge in the lingering taste of honey and lavender that sits on his tongue. 

Despite his instinct to draw her closer while curving her body into his own, Harry separates their lips with a gentle nudge of his forehead against her own, his breathing growing just as erratic as Y/N’s.  Control, he reminds himself as heat prickles along his icy skin from the tender pads of Y/N’s hands.  This isn’t like their first meetings, when he could invite her over under a pretense and take her against the counter before they’d even finished their drinks.  This is different now.  She’s different now.

“Why don’t you go put a record on?” He says again, his voice noticeably deeper than it was when he first made the request. “And I’ll finish getting dinner ready. Sound alright?”

Y/N manages to nod without removing her forehead from his, but that seems to be the only movement she makes; her palms remain pressed firmly against Harry’s tattooed biceps, even after he reluctantly releases his hold on her body.  She can’t help it— it feels too good to be so close to the young man to allow herself to willingly walk away.  Something in his presence is so calming, so steady to her, even when he’s whispering obscenities in her ear.

But outweighing the need to be next to him is her desire to make him happy, and if he wants her to pick out a record… “Alright.” She nods once more as her hands slip from his skin, trailing down his forearms and grazing his wrists before falling to her sides. “Any record?”

Harry drags a ringed hand through his curls, his lithe fingers tugging on the locks before falling to his side in a loose fist. “Any record.” He confirms as he reaches for a kitchen drawer, tugging it open to extract a long metal spoon. “Anything you want to listen to.”

He watches as a serious expression paints itself over the human girl’s face, as if the task he’s given her is of the utmost importance.  She turns on her heel and marches out of the kitchen as if on a mission, and as Harry turns towards the now-boiling pot of water on his stove, he knows that his own face reflects a look of fondness.  It’s too easy to let his guard down with her, he thinks as he ladles his homemade gnocchi into the rolling water.  When she looks at him, there’s such an openness in her expression that he can’t help but allow himself to be seen.

But being seen doesn’t always feel so sweet, which Harry remembers the moment he hears Y/N’s melodic voice ring from the living room. 

“When did you get a piano?”

Harry’s hand freezes mid-scoop, the few gnocchi that had been dangling on the edge of his spoon falling into the boiling water.  A bit of the liquid splashes out and lands on his arm, but quickly fizzes to room temperature once it meets his freezing skin. 

“Uh—” He clears his throat as he tries to refocus on his task, but his actions are much more frantic than careful as he finishes filling the pot with gnocchi. “I’ve had it for a while, remember?  I mentioned it to you before.  At the antique mall.”

When his explanation receives no response, he gives his own frustrated sigh, and sets down the polished spoon to retrace Y/N’s steps out into the living room.  As he expected her to be the moment he heard her question, he finds her with a reverent hand tracing the edge of the matte black Steinway grand piano that’s occupied a space in nearly every home he’s had since he purchased it in the 1920s.  Seeing her nimble fingers drift over the hand-crafted edge brings back a hazy human memory to Harry’s mind— a flash of sharply manicured fingers and a strangely pale hand, adorned with an opal ring as they danced over the pianoforte in an opulent sitting room. The sound of tinkling laughter that rang like a bell, pitched almost high enough to make his ears ache, and a soft, hypnotizing voice slathered in the most delicate accent he’d ever heard. 

Harry has to blink a few times to bring himself back to the present.

“What was that, darling?” He hopes his voice isn’t nearly as strained as it feels when he refocuses his eyes on Y/N’s waiting gaze. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said that you told me it was in storage.” She glides over the intricately carved music stand, the digit dancing across every twist and curve of the decorative panel. “Why did you bring it out?”

“Uh, I dunno, really.” An uncomfortable itch settles onto Harry’s skin, his stomach turning as Y/N takes a seat on the creaking piano bench set in front of the instrument. “I just, uh, figured it should be displayed somewhere, instead of gathering dust in a storage unit.  It’s a vintage Steinway, y’know?  Those need to be taken care of.”

In truth, the vintage instrument had rung Harry quite a high bill over the last few decades, not only in the price it cost to keep it in permanent storage, but in the services he’d had done to it once a year to keep it in its nearly pristine condition.  Despite keeping it out of sight to keep it out of his mind, he couldn’t seem to allow himself to let the instrument fall into disrepair, just in case he ever decided to display it again.  Or sell it, as he’d been leaning towards doing over the last few years— a genuine Steinway piano in condition as good as his had quite the high price tag.  But he’d never been able to force himself to part with it, as it looked too similar to the one he had originally learned to play on.  Even though those memories were tainted with the usual pain that came with thinking about his human life, it was still his life, and he ached to hold onto some part of it.  It’s why he had his mother’s ring, and his sister’s earring, and his father’s cross and pocket watch.  It’s why had a small wooden box hidden away under his bed with memorabilia from his first life.  As much as it hurt to remember— and it did, in ways he can’t possibly begin to describe— remembering seems better than the alternative.

“Well, if you want to show it off…” Y/N’s fingers are trailing down the fallboard now, inching their way towards the ivory keys with a daydream-like purpose. “You shouldn’t hide it away in the corner of the room.  It would look gorgeous in front of the windows, don’t you think?  A proper centerpiece.”

It would make a beautiful centerpiece, and he originally intended it to be so after the delivery company had dropped it off at his condo a few days before.  After bribing Adam and Niall with the offer to buy out their bar tabs for an entire month, the three of them had spent the afternoon rearranging the furniture in his living room to display the Steinway in the center of the room.  He’d thought that, knowing how excited Y/N had been to hear him play the piano in the antique store, she’d like to hear him play in his own home, on an instrument he knows like the back of his hand.  He’d even begun kicking around the idea of teaching her a few songs, but those musings had quickly turned sour as the instrument brought back more memories of his foggy human life.  In the end, he’d decided to restore his living room back to its original state with the addition of the Steinway thrust into the corner, where the ghosts of his past could plunk the keys quietly without drawing too much of his attention.  He’d done his best to ignore the instrument over the last couple of days, and in his hurricane of thoughts that had centered around Y/N, he’d nearly forgotten about its existence completely.

He can’t be mad that Y/N is asking about it; after all, he’d brought it out of storage with her specifically in mind.  But seeing the newfound object of his affections with her fingers poised over the keys brings back a rush of emotions he’d been repressing for the better part of two hundred years.

“It—” Harry clears his throat once more, trying to rid himself of the lump that is rising up like bile. “It took up too much space in the center of the room.  Wasn’t very cohesive.”

“That’s too bad.” The mortal girl’s words fall from her mouth in a murmur as her gaze remains locked on the keys, almost as if she’s in a trance.  Her finger begins to press down on the ivory with a slow and meticulous motion. “It seems like such a shame to—”

“Let’s— Let’s not get into that now, sweetheart.” Harry says hurriedly, his fingers catching her own before she can trigger the instrument to make a sound. “Dinner’s almost ready, and you—” He forces a grin onto his lips. “—still haven’t picked a record out.” Threading her fingers through his own, Harry gently tugs the human girl up from her seat on the piano bench. “Would you rather I do it instead?”

As he expected, Y/N wrinkles her nose with distaste as she rises to meet his emerald eyes. “No.” She scoffs as a quiet snort rises from her throat. “I don’t need to listen to some weird experimental 60s music while trying to eat dinner.”

While Harry would normally bite back at her dig, he just responds to her with a thin laugh and a smile without dimples. “Exactly.  So why don’t you pick something out,” He jerks his head over his shoulder to where his record player and vinyls sit neatly on a shelf lining the wall, ignoring the ghastly spike of pain that twinges his neck as he does so. “And I’ll plate dinner, yeah?”

“Alright.” She agrees, and Harry nearly breathes a sigh of relief before she finishes her phrase. “But you’ll play for me later tonight, won’t you?”

The phantom pain grows until it extends down Harry’s entire spine, filling every nerve in his body with a sense of anxiety and trepidation.  The last thing Harry wants to do is move his fingers over those weighted keys, and with the burning sensation now shooting through his fingers, making his hand twitch around Y/N’s, he’s not even sure he can.

But he is sure of one thing, and that’s the fact that he can’t ever seem to say no to Y/N.

“Yeah, dove.  Of course.” Keeping his voice even, Harry pulls her away from the extravagant instrument as inconspicuously as he can. “Later tonight.”

///

There are so many things that Harry has done over the last two centuries that have both angered and confused him.  

He’s held grudges against himself over the way he’s acted, the people he’s surrounded himself with, the people he’s allowed himself to trust, and the blatant disregard for human decency he’s allowed himself to succumb to.  In the last twenty decades, Harry has amassed enough vendettas for fifty lifetimes, let alone the one endless life he’s been given.  And yet, even with all of those missteps in mind, the fact that Harry ever looked at Y/N and deigned her an ordinary human might be one of the biggest mistakes he’s ever made. 

It’s so clear to him now— sitting across from her at his kitchen island, the few scented candles flickering between them doing almost nothing to cover her sugar and flower scent, her eyes reflecting back the burning flames and something else that Harry can’t quite put a finger on— that he’s not sure how he ever missed it.  How had he once leaned against the counter in her own kitchen, looked into those very same eyes, and managed to convince himself that it was only her blood that drew him to her?  How had he listened to her sweet and sensual voice murmur delicate phrases about her day and her emotions, and not realize that he was inching closer and closer in order to hang on every word, as if she had the supernatural ability to compel him as he did her?  How had he seen her in the smokiness of the club, with her fragile skin practically luminescent under the pulsing strobe lights, and thought that she was so utterly unmemorable and unnoticeable that he could easily take her home for one night without anyone wondering about her whereabouts?  How had he convinced himself that it would only be one night? 

There are so many things that Harry will always be angry about, will never forgive himself for, and his initial perception of Y/N is one of them. 

If he has any redeeming qualities, he thinks as he watches the mortal girl spear a bite of gnocchi onto her fork over the rim of his wine glass, it’s that he can, at the very least, admit when he’s wrong.  He can admit to himself that this girl— this self-assertive, stubborn, vivacious, kind-hearted mortal girl— is the most interesting and most intriguing human he’s ever met.  And as terrifying as that is, it’s also a little thrilling; it’s been so long since Harry has felt a pull to someone like this.  The sensation, while unfamiliar and something he’s severely out of practice with, is just as electrifying as he remembers, and now that he’s had a taste of it, he can’t stop chasing that high. 

It’s that undeniable pull which drive Harry to murmur an unauthentic apology about not having a dining table (he’d chosen a larger living room over a dining area when he moved in, and his friends just settled for eating at Niall’s when they wanted to sit down somewhere) because he’s secretly pleased that he has an excuse to sit next to Y/N.  It’s that pull that makes him hang on her every word about her day like she’s relaying the plot of a Greek tragedy, his facial expressions perfectly mimicking hers as she describes the customers she dealt with.  It’s that pull that sends his fingers forward of their own accord to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear as the soft melody of Hozier’s “Like Real People Do” floats between them like a comforting lullaby.  It’s that pull that, when she inquires about the entrée he’d prepared for them, causes him to proudly admit that he’d recreated the recipe from Bella Vita after wrestling it from Vincenzo.  It’s that pull that urges him to scoop up one of his own gnocchi and bring it to Y/N’s lips to feed her the first bite of the meal, his hand cupped delicately under the utensil to catch any sauce that might drip onto her shirt (which is really his shirt, and that fact alone delivers so much more pleasure than he ever would’ve thought possible).  

It’s that pull, that adrenaline rush, that indescribable sensation, but underneath it all, it’s her.  It’s always been her, since the moment they’d first met.  From the moment he first laid eyes on her.  How is it, Harry wonders, that his first sighting, enhanced by his supernatural senses, had managed to make him so blind?  How is it that he’d had this girl in front of him all along, and he’d managed to delude himself into thinking that he’d be able to stop himself from becoming vulnerable for her?  And maybe, he wonders slowly as he clears Y/N’s empty dinner plate from the marble island to the sink, he’s still deluding himself, because for some strange reason, being vulnerable for the mortal girl doesn’t seem to be as terrifying as he thought it would be.

The vampire suddenly recalls a specific day all those weeks back, when Y/N had stayed over and they’d taken their first bath together in his jacuzzi. He thinks about how he’d allowed himself to be vulnerable for just a fraction of a second, when he had admitted to her that she often caught him off guard. She had returned the sentiment, and he remembers the words he'd uttered to her amidst the warm steam and quiet splashing of the water. He had said that he found her influence on him— the influence they had on each other— to be scary, but exhilarating. And now, after spending so much time together and allowing himself to grow closer to her than he ever could’ve imagined, he’s come to find that his attraction to Y/N is no longer incredibly scary. Yes, there’s still a sliver of fear in him at the notion of opening himself up to her, but it’s only natural— there isn’t one person in existence who isn’t scared to strip themselves emotionally bare for someone else. However, his genuine excitement soothes his hesitations, and it startles him in a pleasant manner he can’t quite decipher.

Setting the dirty dishes into the sink to be dealt with later, Harry risks a glance at Y/N over his shoulder.  He watches as she wipes the corner of her mouth on a napkin before raising her stemmed glass to her lips, delicately draining the last of the crimson liquid before placing it back down with a clink.  When he catches her sparkling eyes, Y/N shoots him a smile that, even with only one corner of her lips lifted, manages to dazzle him from across the kitchen.  Harry can hear the fresh flush of blood that overtakes her cheeks, as if the wine itself is settling beneath her fragile skin.

Yes, vulnerability should petrify him.  Vulnerability means danger.  It means giving someone the ability to break you, and Harry knows this from firsthand experience.  Harry might be the only monster in the room, but in this moment, Y/N is the ominous threat. She’s the vague silhouette that hides in the shadows, the mysterious mass circling just beneath the waves, waiting for the right moment to strike.

But now that he’s dipped a toe in, Harry can’t stop himself from diving headfirst into those dangerous depths.

“D’you want another drink, love?” He asks, turning back around and leaning his hip against the marble counter as he cocks his head to the side in a questioning manner. “Some more wine before dessert?  Or another cocktail?”

Y/N glances at her multiple empty glasses in front of her, but shakes her head slowly. “No, I’ve had enough to drink.  But I’d love a cup of tea, H.  If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.  A cup of tea, coming right up.” Harry reaches for the sleek kettle that he keeps set on the backburner of his range, flicking on his tap with his other hand before settling the hollow object under the stream of water. “You know, I think this is the first time I’m actually making tea for you.  S’a real treat, isn’t it?” He flashes a toothy grin at the girl before placing the now-full kettle back onto the burner and twisting the knob to high. “A proper cup of tea made by a proper Brit.  Can’t get much better than that.”

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully as she circles her finger around the rim of the empty wine glass, her motions just starting to get heavy with the liquor. “It’s just some dried leaves and water, Harry.  Don’t get too full of yourself.” 

“I think you’re the one who’s usually full of me, aren’t you, pet?” Although his back is turned towards the stove, Harry can hear the effect his words have on the human girl by the small, nearly imperceptible gasp that leaves her lips. “‘M not sure you’re allowed to make that observation.”

Despite the choked feeling that’s welled up in her throat at his comment, Y/N quickly clears it out with a small cough, capturing Harry’s sea glass eyes with her own to stare him down stubbornly. “I’ll make any observations I want.” She says firmly, crossing her arms over her exposed chest in a mockingly angered pose.

A fond laugh rolls from Harry’s stained lips as he opens his cupboards and extracts two tea cups that are painted with vines of wisteria flowers.  He’d found them a few years back at the very same antique mall he’d brought Y/N to, included in a china tea set that he hadn’t been able to resist buying.  The hand painted violet flowers had caught his eye from the moment he’d glanced at the china cabinet they’d been locked inside, and he’d barely been able to tear himself away from the glass case to retrieve the key from an employee.  

He’d always had a soft spot for wisteria; there had been a wisteria tree outside of his childhood home, and he and Gemma used to collect the bunches of blooms and bring them inside for their mother.  That had been a long time ago, of course.  When they were children.  Harry can’t quite remember at what age they’d stopped digging through the garden for flowers— it might have been when Gemma turned eleven, which would’ve made him…. Seven?  Harry frowns at the uncertain memory as his grip tightens around the delicate china cups.  Yes, he reminds himself, he would’ve been seven.  His sister had been four years older than him, and it was around age eleven when she’d declared herself a lady, and said that it wasn’t ladylke to dig through a garden and walk around with dirt under one’s fingernails, and Honestly, Harry, you must wipe your feet before stepping into the house, or else you’ll track mud everywhere—

With trembling hands, Harry sets the wisteria tea cups down on the marble counter, flexing his fingers to get rid of their shakiness before reaching for the respective saucers.  It seems that Y/N’s ability to make him feel more human isn’t just resurfacing the manners and emotions he’d long suppressed, but the memories, too.  How long had it been since he’d heard his sister’s voice ring in his head as clearly as that?  How long had it been since he’d thought of the tiny foyer of his childhood home, which he’d tracked mud into countless times as his mother and, eventually, his sister clicked their tongues at him?  Is the tree still there, he wonders as his thoughts continue to spiral.  Or had it been cut down in the two hundred years since he’d last seen it, long after his family had all… 

Harry places the saucers carefully down against the marble before bracing himself against the edge for just a moment.  Barely thirty seconds have passed since Y/N’s retort, and although his enhanced mind had begun to spiral, it’s not too late for him to give a half-sane response.  

“I know you will, sweetheart.” He finally murmurs, hiding his face as he pulls open his fridge to extract the carton of oat milk he’d purchased last week.  Y/N, he’d come to learn over the last few months, prefers milk over cream in her tea, just like she prefers sugar over artificial sweeteners. 

Harry can feel the burn of her eyes into his back as he extracts a teaspoon from his kitchen drawer and the kettle begins to whistle.  Focusing and relishing in being the object of her attention, Harry removes the kettle from the heat, flicking the stove off before reaching for the canister that stores his tea bags.  In an effort to fully distract himself from the troubling thoughts of his past, he begins to hum the tune to the Hozier song that had been playing earlier, before the record had spun to stop just before they’d finished their entrees.  With the near murmur of the melody reverberating through his throat, he spends a moment debating on whether or not he should use the matching wisteria-adorned teapot that sits on the highest shelf of his cupboard, but quickly decides against it— it’s too formal for the occasion.  But tossing two separate tea bags into the two teacups, he finds as soon as he does it, doesn’t feel right either; after all, he’d told Y/N that he’d be making her a proper cup of tea.  That fact settles the manner in his (moreso than usual) changing mind, and within a few moments, he has the two teabags deposited into the teapot before pouring in the boiling water to steep the satchels of dried leaves.

Halfway through his preparation, his ears had perked up with the distinct sound of Y/N rising from her chair, which had been followed by the muted pattering of her feet against his hardwood floor.  Not bothering to ask where she’d been going, Harry had instead decided to wait for his suspicions to be confirmed.  Sure enough, just as he’s stirring the sugar and oat milk into Y/N’s cup of tea, he hears the quiet press of one of the keys of his piano.  C4, if his aural skills are still as tuned as they used to be.

Setting the two cups of tea onto their respective plates (Y/N’s with milk and sugar, and Harry’s plain), the vampire easily balances both cups of tea in his hands and makes it to the living room without spilling a single drop.

Just like before, Y/N seems entranced by the piano, plunking out different notes and letting them ring into the open air.  Harry can’t help but wince slightly as he approaches— as talented as Y/N seems to be at some things, music theory does not appear to be included.

“Christ, love, a tritone?” He protests, his voice hinging on a whine as he approaches the piano bench. “What, your fingers couldn’t make it a perfect fifth, hm?”

The answer to his teasing question comes in the form of Y/N’s entire body jumping as her fingers stutter over the keys, an audible gasp falling from her mouth while her hand clutches to her chest and her head turns to stare at Harry over her shoulder. “Jesus, you scared me!” She says breathlessly, her palm massaging over her the area where Harry can hear the rapid pulsing of her heart. “Have you always creeped around like that?”

A playful grin tugs at the immortal’s lips as he extends an arm out, handing the china saucer and cup to the human girl. “Only when I’m carrying boiling tea.  Scooch over, will you?” Nudging his way onto the newly unoccupied space of the bench, Harry nods his head towards the keys she had been previously playing. “Was that an original composition?”

“Beethoven, actually.  I’m surprised you didn’t recognize it.” Y/N blows gently over her tea with pursed lips before taking a small sip.  Harry knows that his sister would have condemned the action, along with the following slurp, by calling it unladylike, but the inelegant manner leaves a fond feeling buzzing through his body once more. 

Raising his own teacup to his lips, Harry chuckles quietly over the rim of the cup. “I wouldn’t have pegged it for the classical era, actually.  Sounded more atonal to me.” He takes a small sip of tea, the liquid scorching down his throat in the best way. “You said you took lessons when you were younger, didn’t you?  Do you remember anything?”

“Twinkle twinkle little star, maybe.” Y/N takes another small gulp before setting the cup back down on the saucer. “I was, like, eight.  Nursery rhymes were as far as I got.” Her gaze drops to the caramel coloured tea with a curious gaze; Harry had remembered exactly how she takes it, despite him only having seen her make a cup of tea once a few weeks ago. “But you, on the other hand… Mr. Good Lookin’...” Her lips jolt into a teasing grin as her eyes flicker to the side to capture his own. “You’re quite the musician, from what I remember.  And you promised to play me something.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Harry’s smile grows imperceivably tighter as he takes another drag of the boiling drink, his throat growing thicker with every swallow. “And you still want me to?”

Brow furrowing at his reluctance, Y/N cocks her head to the side in bewilderment. “Of course I do, H.  I loved listening to you play for me at the antique mall.”

Harry thinks back to that day, when he’d stuttered his way through a Chopin piece before his stumbling fingers had given up entirely. “I’m just a little out of practice, love.  It’ll be a bit messy.”

“I didn’t ask for perfection; I asked for you to play.” Her warm fingers find Harry’s upper arm, massaging the tattooed muscles just underneath the tucked sleeve of his shirt as she regards him with wide, curious eyes. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but if you’re nervous because you might mess up… Well, you heard me play.” Her light laugh rings through the cavity of the piano, reverberating off the highest strings in a way that only Harry’s immortal ears can pick up. “I won’t be able to tell the difference.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Despite his reservations, a half-hearted smile finds its way to Harry’s lips over the rim of his tea cup, which he sets down on the living room side table after taking one last sip.  

Flexing his ringed fingers, he repositions himself on the piano bench, moving more towards the center of the seat as Y/N moves down to the edge to give him full access to the piano.  For a brief moment, his hands hover over the ivory and ebony keys as he evaluates the repertoire he knows he can muddle his way through without too much trouble.  He’s already played a few Chopin pieces for the human girl, so that composer is out.  Liszt doesn’t seem to fit the mood, either, as his pieces are much too ornamented for their quiet living room ambience.  Debussy is out before Harry can even consider him; the last thing he wants to do is invoke any more memories of sitting at a piano with the much too familiar composer.  And Beethoven and Mozart seem too contrived for this setting, as well.

With a frown on his wine-stained lips, Harry spares one glance at Y/N, whose own eyes are glued to his floating fingers.  She reaches out with a tentative touch of her own, gliding them across Harry’s tensed knuckles with a pressure so soft that, if not for the heat of her skin, Harry might not feel it at all.  The cautiousness of the motion is not lost on him— it’s almost as if Y/N is worried that she’ll spook him out of playing, like any sudden movements could break him.  It reminds the creature of the awareness he has whenever he touches her; how he always carefully evaluates the amount of pressure he uses whenever he glides his fingers over her vulnerable skin. 

As if she were a butterfly, he thinks, not for the first time.  His butterfly.

Harry doesn’t remember making the conscious decision to start playing.  He doesn’t even recognize the piece that’s tentatively ringing from the piano until the repetition of the first motive, when Y/N emits a satisfied breath and her warm hand falls back to Harry’s thigh, rubbing gently over his olive trousers with that same delicate touch, almost as if he were a butterfly.

The creature’s fingers continue to glide over the ivory keys, his phrases growing smoother and more confident with every passing moment.  He pays careful attention to the dynamics of the piece, trying his best to recall the sheet music that he hadn’t looked at in decades, but it only takes about thirty seconds for him to realize that it’s easier to just let himself feel the music.  With Y/N’s hand continuing to dance over his thigh in time with the tune, Harry lets himself play around with the score, peppering in crescendos and decrescendos as he sees fit.  He draws out some of the minor phrases, hoping to wrench on his obsolete heartstrings the way he had when he first learned the piece in the early 20th century, and hovers his fingers over the bass notes as he uses the pedal to make them ring out into the living room.  

Halfway through the composition, Harry realizes that he’s breathing with the phrases, timing each inhale and exhale of his lungs with the musical lines.  It only takes him another two measures to realize that Y/N is doing the same, her body leaning into Harry’s as Harry leans into the instrument.  And that, he finds as his jeweled fingers slide over the keys, tugs on his heartstrings more than any melody ever could.

As he approaches the end of the piece, he softens his touch, his fingertips almost ghosting over the keys as he gently presses the final notes.  Harry keeps his foot hovered over the pedal, allowing the quiet cadence to fade to silence in its own time, and as it does, he can feel his body coming back into itself— which is strange, considering he hadn’t noticed the trance-like space he’d slipped into.

Y/N, however, must have noticed, because her voice is hushed and hesitant when she speaks again, waiting until the final notes have completely faded to silence, as if she’s afraid that she’s interrupting something. 

“That was so beautiful, H.” She praises, her hand still rubbing over his clothed thigh.  The motion would normally drive Harry mad, but for some reason, all it does to him in this moment is bring a strange lump to his throat. “What’s it called?”

In his unfamiliar haze, it takes Harry a moment to find his own voice. “Uh, Papillons.” He says through his thick accent, clearing his throat subtly as he lowers his hands to his lap.  He hadn’t even realized they were still lingering over the last notes. “It means—”

“Butterflies.” The mortal girl nods in recognition, a thoughtful look over her face as she taps a finger against his trousers, her tone slightly jesting as she murmurs her next sentence. “I know enough sixth grade French to understand that.  Is it a French piece, then?”

“No.” Harry jerks his head in the negative, only remembering to soften the agitated motion after it’s happened.  He raises his keen eyes to meet Y/N’s, a reminder of where he is.  And a reminder of who he’s with. “It’s the fifth movement in a suite by Robert Schumann— the “Polonaise,” in B-flat major.  S’one of my favourites.”

“I can see why.” Y/N murmurs, a fond smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “It was wonderful, really.  ‘Out of practice,’ my ass.”

Even with the residual anxiety still coursing through his veins, Harry manages to force out a chuckle at her teasing. “Trust me, I’m just as surprised as you are.  But Schumann has always been a favourite composer of mine—” Harry takes Y/N’s teacup from her, noting how her eyes had flickered to the ground, as if she was looking for a place to set it, and she sends him a thankful grin as he sets the cup next to his own on the end table. “—along with his wife.  They were both incredibly talented musicians.”

“His wife?” Intrigue threads through Y/N’s voice as she props up an elbow on the piano, resting her chin on her loose fist as she turns her body towards Harry. “She was a musician, too?”

Harry hums affirmatively as he cracks his knuckles, flexing his fingers in his lap to loosen them from the buzzing sensation that’s still prickling his skin. “She was, yeah.  They had a pretty passionate love story, y’know.  That’s why his music is so beautiful— he wrote it all for her.”

Y/N doesn’t miss the reminiscent tone that seeps into Harry’s voice, and she threads her fingers through his own as her eyes widen with a gentle plea. “Will you tell me about them?  Schumann and his wife?”

“I—” Hesitating at her request, Harry squeezes her hand tightly, half in affection, half in warning. “It doesn’t have much of a happy ending, darling.  A bit of a tragedy, that one.”

“I want to know.” The human girl nods her head stubbornly as her eyes flash with determination. “Just because it has a sad ending doesn’t mean it’s not worth knowing.” 

Harry pauses for a moment, allowing her words to fully sink into his mind and spark the beacon of hope that’s sat coldy in his head for so long. “I suppose that’s true.” 

He mulls over where to begin, thinking back to all the newspaper articles he’d read about a child prodigy in Germany in the 1820s, who was the daughter of—

“So the story really begins with Friederich Wieck.” Harry’s voice falls into a smooth cadence as he begins, thumbing over Y/N’s warm knuckles absentmindedly as he recalls the information. “He was a music teacher, most known for piano, but what he really wanted to be known for was raising a child prodigy.  He had a few children, but the one who filled that description was Clara, his second oldest.”

As Harry begins to spin the tale, Y/N can’t help but focus on his expression.  Although his eyes are set on their linked hands, she can tell that his gaze is far away, as if he’s seeing the scene play before his eyes as he tells it.  It’s fascinating, she thinks, seeing him focus so intently on something as niche as an old love story between musicians, but more than that, it’s new to her.  This is a new side of him that she hasn’t seen before— not cocky, or charming, or playful.  This side of him is intent, as if he wants to make sure that every word he speaks is the truth.  His expression is almost as interesting as the story itself.

“Clara’s parents, Friederich and Mariane, didn’t really get along very well, and Clara had a lot of trouble when she was young; she didn’t really speak until she was four.  But music always came easily to her, which made sense, considering her parents.” Harry’s free hand drifts back to the ivory keys, just resting over the lacquered surface. “Her mother was a musician, too— an accomplished singer.  But after her parents split when she was five, when Mariane had an affair with a family friend, Clara was left with her father.  And her father wanted to focus on her music career.  He gave her hour-long lessons every day, and made her practice for two hours on top of that.  She made her performance debut when she was just nine years old, in 1828, at the Gewandhaus in Leipzig.”

“Okay, wait.  Pause.” Y/N worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she waits for Harry’s faraway eyes to refocus on her confused expression. “What does playing in Leipzig at age nine have to do with a love story?”

An amused laugh slips from Harry’s lips at Y/N’s impatience. “I’m getting there, sweetheart.  A little bit of patience would be beneficial to you, I think.  And a little bit of trust in me, yeah?”

Although she huffs a little bit, Y/N relents, squeezing Harry’s hand in acknowledgement at the phrase he always seems to end up repeating: Trust me. She vaguely wonders why it’s so important to him. “Alright, fine.  Continue.”

“Thank you.” Harry swipes a hand through his tousled curls before settling it back down on the keys, running his fingertips over the smooth surface absentmindedly in the same rhythm he’s swiping over Y/N’s knuckles. “Okay, so… She played in Leipzig a few times that year, and once was at a private music party at someone’s house, where she met Robert Schumann.” At the mention of the name, Harry shoots Y/N an ‘I told you so’ look, which she meets with a roll of her eyes. “He was a gifted pianist, and was so inspired by Clara’s playing that he got permission from his mother to quit his law studies in order to study piano under Clara’s father, Friederich.  So in 1830, Robert moved into the Weick household as one of Friederich’s students, and—”

“Sorry, I— pause again.” Brow furrowed, Y/N’s eyes narrow in suspicion as she mulls over Harry’s words. “So— if Clara was, like, nine—”

“Eleven, actually.  It’s 1830 now, remember?”

“Alright, eleven.  If Clara was eleven… You said Robert quit law school to study music.” Y/N’s narrowed eyes widen as she regards Harry, as if asking him to contradict her suspicions. “How old was Robert?”

“Around twenty, I think.” Harry says casually, lifting his shoulder in a light shrug. “He was born in 1810, so— yeah.  He would’ve been twenty.”

“Twenty?” Y/N yanks her hand from Harry’s as she fully twists her body to face him, as if just hearing the horror in her voice isn’t enough. “He was twenty?  I thought this was a love story?”

“It is!  It’s just—”

“No, it’s not!  It’s gross!” Wrinkling her nose in disgust, Y/N shakes her head harshly, her loose hair spilling over her flushing cheeks. “A twenty year old shouldn’t—”

“He didn’t!  Nothing happened until they were older, love.” Harry captures Y/N’s hand within his own again, smoothing over her knuckles as he hurries to reassure her. “And it was the nineteenth century… a nine year age gap in a relationship wasn’t exactly uncommon.” For a brief moment, Harry wonders what Y/N would think if she knew just how much older he really was than her.  Would she react with the same horrified expression she had now?  Yank her hand from his again as she had just done?

“Yeah, well…” Y/N’s appearance is still bristled as she shoots Harry a condemning look. “There’s a difference between a nine year age gap and a child—”

“Nothing’s happened yet, sweetheart.” Harry bites back the involuntary laugh that bubbles through his chest at the indignant tone of her voice. “Now can I continue?  Or do you want to yell some more?”

Although her response is grumbled, the mortal girl mutters, “Fine.  Continue.” as Harry lifts her knuckles to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. 

“Thank you.” He lowers her hand back down to his thigh, smoothing it over his trousers before continuing where he’d left off. “So Robert studies under Clara’s father and stays with them for a year.  And although Clara and Robert were just friends, Friederich could tell that they were becoming close, which he didn’t like.  And before you say anything,” Harry watches as Y/N’s lips twitch into a frown. “It wasn’t because of Robert’s age.  Friederich didn’t want Clara to fall in love with anyone; he just wanted her to focus on her music.  He still wanted his child prodigy, you know?  So he began to take her on tours through Europe.  But by the time Clara was sixteen, it was clear that she and Robert had feelings for each other.  They wrote countless letters to each other, signed them ‘your special friend’... And when Clara turned eighteen, Robert asked Friederich for his permission to marry his daughter.  And Friederich said no, because that would ruin his plans for Clara’s music career.”

Despite her hesitation at the relationship, Y/N still mutters a quiet “Harsh.” at the story.

Harry’s hands return to the keys, but this time, they do more than hover.  He begins to press a few notes slowly, letting one ring out completely before moving to the other, and it takes Y/N a few moments to realize that he’s playing an actual melody, albeit a deconstructed one. 

“Because Clara wasn’t twenty-one yet, they needed her father’s permission to marry, so Robert took the case to court.  And it was…” His fingers stutter over the keys for a moment as his face twists up, remembering how the story had decorated the society pages of newspapers back then. “Messy.  Really messy.  But in the end, Robert won the case, and he and Clara were married.  And they wrote all this beautiful music together…” Harry’s left hand joins his right over the piano, moving with more intention now as he adds a quiet harmony to his slow melody line. “They weren’t good with words, but they were good with music.  That’s how they communicated with each other.  You can hear the love in everything they wrote, the devotion they had for each other.  Listen,” He says in a hushed voice, the melody of the music becoming unbearably sweet. “D’you hear it?”

“I do.” Y/N nods softly, her fingers massaging Harry’s thigh muscle as he continues to play.  It’s not a lie, either; there’s a sincerity in what Harry’s playing that twists within her chest.  

Or maybe, she thinks, her eyes trained in the profile of the man beside her, it’s just Harry. 

“Didn’t you…” Y/N hesitates both in her words and her motions over Harry’s leg as a new thought tugs at her mind. “Didn’t you say the story had a sad ending?  That all seems good, isn’t it?  Clara and Robert got married, wrote music together…”

Harry’s fingers begin to slow down, returning to the reduced melody he’d been playing previously, as if weighed down by the knowledge he’s about to share. “Uh, yeah.  Robert had a lot of problems— mental health issues.  Later in their marriage, he became manic, had episodes where he saw angels and demons… and he was worried he’d hurt Clara.” Harry says quietly, risking a glance at the girl beside him, who’s watching him with such wide and trusting eyes that he almost can’t bear it.  Harry knows what it’s like to fear hurting the ones you care for. “He tried to kill himself, and when he was unsuccessful, he asked to be taken to an insane asylum.  And he never went home again.  He died there, just a few days after Clara was finally allowed to visit.  S’like…” Harry’s fingers pause over the piano once more. “S’like he was waiting for her.  Before going.”

Detecting the emotion in his voice, Y/N raises her hand from his thigh, smoothing back a few loose curls before gently setting her palm over the curve of his neck. “That is a bit of a tragic story, I’ll admit.  To have fought so hard for each other for so long… And then to lose all of it like that…”

“Yeah.” Harry clears the lump from his throat as subtly as he can.  He’s certainly no stranger to loss, to feeling helpless at being unable to save someone you love… He knows that pain all too well. 

As if she can sense the darkness in his mood, Y/N rubs a comforting hand across his shoulder and down his arm, drifting over his inked skin with a warm touch.  Her comment, however, is more lighthearted than her caring caress. 

“I still think the age gap is a little weird.  How do you go from writing letters about being ‘special friends’ to falling in love?”

Harry rises to her baited joke, doing his best to shake himself from his introspective thoughts as his fingers begin to drift over the keys once more.  He focuses on just his right hand now, playing out an absentminded yet tender tune as he speaks. “So if I started to call you my special friend, you wouldn’t like it?”

“God, no— that sounds awful.” Y/N scoffs, her own hand drifting to the ivory keys. “We’re sleeping together, not making mud pies in a kindergarten class.”

Harry’s laugh is more genuine as he begins to slow down his playing, plucking only single notes that Y/N echoes in the lower register of the piano. “Alright, fine.  Not special friends, then.”

“There’s just so many cooler historical ways to say we’re having sex, y’know?  None of that ‘special friend’ bullshit.” Y/N continues to match Harry’s notes as best she can, wincing every so often as she plays a dissonant key. “Like… ‘lover.’  That’s a good one.  Nice and simple.  Or—” Her eyes light up with mirth as the thought pops into her head. “Courtesan to the queen.  Not as simple, but it certainly rolls off the tongue.”

Harry quirks a brow at the suggestion. “And you’ll be the queen in question, I presume?”

“Of course.  Do you have a better idea?”

“‘Paramour’ is a neat little name, don’t you think?” Harry asks, his fingers pressing down a simple perfect fourth on the piano to punctuate his question. “Sounds pretty elegant.  Understated.”

“If you want understated…” Y/N matches the top note of Harry’s interval, already knowing she wouldn’t be able to match the actual notes without hurting both of their ears. “We could do what historians do when talking about ancient queer couples.  Say we’re just good friends.”

The creature hums in acknowledgment at the back of his throat. “We could, yeah.  Or we could be mistresses.   Is there a word for a male mistress?” Harry quirks an eyebrow as his lips pull into a quizzical frown. “A master?”

“Jesus Christ, never refer to yourself as a master again.” Y/N groans loudly, her fingers slipping from the keys as she feigns a shudder. “That just sounds creepy.  Even creepier than a special friend. How about…” She tries her best to stifle a wry grin as a more vulgar alternative pops into her head. “The Whore of Babylon?” 

“Fuck’s sake, what did I say about slut-shaming me?”

“I just thought it’d fit! It has a nice ring to it! But if it really irks you that much— Oh, wait—” She quirks her head to the side, a new wave of amusement lighting up her eyes as she thinks of her next step in their game. “What about ‘special advisor’?  You know, like we’re in a historical drama, and I have a kingdom to defend from oncoming war, and you’re my most trusted advisor, and when my husband is away with the army, you and I sneak off into my chambers…”

Although he giggles boyishly at the suggestion, Harry can’t ignore the twinge of jealousy that shoots up his spine at the mention of Y/N’s— albeit imaginary— husband.  He doesn’t like being referred to as her side relationship, even in an imaginary world of queens and wars.  Even then, he wants to be Y/N’s first choice. 

Because she’s his, he realizes, his fingers continuing to pluck out single ivory notes as a way to deal with the impending ball of tension that’s growing inside his abdomen.  Even in a game, in an imaginary world, in any way imaginable— Y/N is his first choice. 

He just— he wants her, in every sense of the word. And he knows all the reasons he shouldn’t— he knows how reckless it is to allow a human to get so close to him, how he’ll never truly be able to be honest with her, how he’ll always be using her for her blood, how he can’t give her the human relationship she deserves.  But he can’t stop from thinking about Robert and Clara, who fought for each other from the very beginning, who persevered through every challenge thrown their way, and who still only got sixteen years together before circumstance tore them apart. 

Harry is here. He is— for all intents and purposes— theoretically alive.  And the girl he wants more than anyone else is right next to him.  There’s no doubt in his mind that it’ll be difficult, but does he not owe it to those who ran out of time to try?  At the very least? Does he not owe it to himself to fight for the happiness he’s spent so long evading, all out of fear? 

He can manage that.  He can manage his cravings around Y/N enough to take only what he needs, and never anything more.  He can manage his double life and keep her from falling victim to the darkest corners of his mind. He can manage his strength enough to treat her as delicately as he’d treat a butterfly.  He can manage the most monstrous parts of himself.  He can do that for Y/N. 

But only if she wants him to. 

It’s that hesitation that brings a tremor to his hands as they pause over the keys, poised over the lacquered surface that he can barely tear his gaze from. “A special advisor sounds fun, yeah.  Or you could…” Harry clears his throat roughly, sweat pooling across his brow as he fiddles with the opal ring on his pinky.  He twists it back and forth around the digits, only managing to spare one look from the corner of his eye at Y/N’s quizzical face before dropping his stare back down to the piano. 

“Or you could, um… you could just… call me your…” Say it, the voice in his head practically yells. It’s just one word. It’s not that hard. “Boyfriend. You could just call me your boyfriend.”

A heavy pause fills the air in the large room, and Harry feels like he’s being suffocated. His voice grows fainter when he detects the sudden hitch in Y/N’s breath, but nothing else. He finds himself wanting to fill the empty space between them with something, or else he might pass out from the nerves. “If you… If you want, that is.  It would just keep it simple. Plain and simple.”

Plain and simple, Y/N thinks as her hands curl together in her lap, slotting between her thighs as if the pressure of her clamped legs can keep her from feeling how they shake.  It would keep it plain and simple.

But when has their relationship ever been simple?

It should’ve been simple, and the mortal girl knows this.  Two consenting adults, calling each other every once in a while for a bit of release— that’s simple.  That kind of relationship doesn’t have any pressure.  There’s no need to try and impress one another, or to meet any expectations.  That kind of relationship is no muss, no fuss, and no strings attached.  That was how they had started, and it had been simple.  It had been easy.  It had been uncomplicated. 

And it also hadn’t been that way for a long time.

Y/N’s known for a while now that the line between two friends having sex and being in a committed relationship has become increasingly blurred; that was all but confirmed when Harry nearly pitched a hissy fit when he saw her coming home from her date with Jacob.  But even with all of the dates, the gifts, the phone calls during her lunch breaks, the homemade dinners and drinks and desserts, even with all of that— Y/N never thought that they’d actually arrive at this moment.  This moment, in Harry’s apartment, their bodies pressed together on the small piano bench, his fingers fidgeting nervously as hers are pressed between her thighs, with the word boyfriend dangling over their heads like a sword.

She can’t pretend she hasn’t thought about it, because she has.  And she can’t pretend that her thinking about it doesn’t usually lead to her daydreaming about it, because it does.  It’s why she spends the majority of her downtime wrapped in Harry’s rainbow cardigan, and why she’d picked out his button down shirt to wear tonight.  It’s why she’s talked about him to her friends, why she’s begun to speak about him casually to her coworkers, instead of hiding in the storage closet when he calls her on her break.  Because even though they aren’t together— even though they’re friends in the least and seeing each other at the most— it had been nice to pretend that either of them were capable of being more.

Y/N is no stranger to heartbreak, and she’s spent long enough studying her own commitment issues to be able to recognize them in someone else.  Harry had pretty much told her in the beginning that relationships weren’t his thing, that he didn’t want to be defined by a label that could so easily be broken.  And Y/N, who hadn’t opened herself up since Bradley, had been inclined to agree.  Relationships are messy, and labels only bring expectations that would eventually not be met.  Seeing each other is easy.  Seeing each other is breezy.  Seeing each other leaves room for interpretation, for allowances, for excuses to be made if one of them suddenly changes their mind.  Seeing each other is plain and simple. 

Boyfriend.

The truth of the matter is that Y/N shouldn’t be so terrified of such a simple word.  In all forms and fashion, Harry practically already is her boyfriend— he literally calls her his girl during sex, for fuck’s sake. They do everything that a normal couple does, and have been doing it for a while now.  She’s fairly certain that calling Harry her boyfriend instead of the guy she’s seeing wouldn’t actually change their relationship that much.  But if she’s honest with herself, Y/N knows that it isn’t their present day situation that’s sending a cold sweat down her back.  Boyfriends, from her limited experience, lead to fiancés, which lead to husbands, which lead to children and a white picket fence in an unassuming suburb.  That was the exact life she’d come to L.A. to escape— how could she willingly fall back into it?

And then she hears Harry exhale shakily, his thumb fumbling with the opal ring on his pinky, and she knows exactly how she could willingly fall back into it.

This is Harry.  Harry, who tells her the stupidest jokes that can somehow still make her laugh.  Harry, who gives her all of his attention every moment that they’re together.  Harry, who listens to every story about rude customers without complaining once, hanging onto her every word as if what she says matters more than life itself.  Harry, who makes her believe that it does.  Harry, with entrancing emerald eyes, shining chestnut curls, intricately inked skin, and the most comforting arms she’s ever been held in.  This is Harry.  Not Bradley.  Bradley wanted the wife, the white picket fence, the house filled with children.  Harry— as far as she can tell— just wants her.  And she just wants him.

Plain and simple.

Y/N extracts one of her hands from between her legs, snaking it over Harry’s, where she captures one of his fiddling hands in her grasp.  Intertwining their fingers, Y/N fixes her gaze onto his opal ring as she hesitantly swipes her thumb over his cool knuckles.

“Yeah,” She whispers the word, as if speaking any louder could break whatever it is that’s brewing between them. “Yeah, that could work.  I’d really like that.”

The human girl watches from the corner of her eye as Harry’s lips, which he’d been gnawing on nervously while waiting for her response, slowly curl into a hesitant grin, as if he’s nervous to show how anxiously he’d been waiting for her to answer.  He keeps his sea glass eyes glued to their tangled hands, his own fingers contracting to test their grasp. 

Harry knows that it’s selfish of him to be so happy that the girl he cares for is entering into a relationship with a monster.  But seeing as how he’s the monster in question, he can’t make himself feel guilty for it.  All he feels is the elation that’s slowly spreading through his entire body, and the determination that’s chasing it.  He can do this.  He’s strong enough.  He can be strong enough for her. 

“Can I…” His voice is just as quiet as hers, nearly cracking at the end when he finally lifts his gaze to her heated cheeks, wide eyes, and stained lips. “Can I kiss you?”

A tender laugh falls from those stained lips as Y/N combs his curls back over his ear, dragging her thumb over the sharp lines of his jaw. “You do that all the time, so the answer is obviously yes, isn’t it?” She thumbs down the muscles in his neck, until her palm settles over the collar of his shirt to fist the fabric between her grip. “You don’t even need to ask anymore.”

“It never hurts to ask.  And this time…” Harry worries his bottom lip back between his teeth before he soothes the bite mark with his tongue. “It’s different.  We’re different.”

“Not too different.” Y/N leans forward until their noses nudge against each other, their mouths kept apart only by an inch.  She cards her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, twisting the locks around her digits in a way that’s so much softer than Harry thought possible. “Still us, yeah?”

The taste of honey and lavender is so thick on the back of Harry’s tongue that he’s almost choking on it, but he’s never felt less thirsty in his life.  He has this under control.  He can tame this.  He can.

“Yeah.” He inhales deeply through his mouth, as if he were relishing the bouquet without tasting the wine, and slots their lips together with ease. 

Although they’ve shared countless kisses over their months together, this might win the record for the gentlest that they’ve ever shared.  There’s no rush, no animalistic need to pull Y/N closer and tighter against his body.  There’s only her burning warmth, her silky skin, and her sugar and flower flavour washing out the black tea that had been lingering on his taste buds.  Harry has never felt closer to being human again than he has in this moment.  Right now, they’re not a predator and his prey; they’re simply two people who, against all odds, have managed to find each other.  And Harry is owed this happiness.  He knows he is. 

The rest of the night passes in a blissful haze of comfortable domesticity.  They eat dessert on Harry’s couch, feeding each other bites of raspberry sorbet in between giggles and banter.  It’s something they’ve done countless times before, but there’s something different about it now; maybe it’s the fact that Harry knows that Y/N isn’t going to push him away now.  She wants him.  She wants him.  She’s leaning into his touch every time he brushes his knuckles over her cheek, laughing at his poorly-timed jokes, gazing at him through her lashes in a way that stirs desire in the very pit of his belly.  They’re comfortable together, and for the first time, Harry is realizing just how wonderful that is.

It’s the only thing on his mind as they stand side by side in front of his double vanity in his en suite, his gaze tilted to the side to watch as Y/N removes her makeup with some wipes she’d packed in her overnight bag (Harry makes a mental note on the brand so that he can pick them up the next time he finds himself near the drug store).  He’s never had such casual comfort and ease with someone like this before; the last time he’d found himself in a relationship, it had been in a time where maids were required to help lace and unlace corsets and valets prepared him for bed.  There was never a chance to watch as someone he cares for ties their hair back in a loose ponytail before rubbing cleanser into their skin.  He never got to observe the quiet, intimate moments of someone’s bedtime routine.  In the early days of their relationship, Y/N had never had a chance to properly take her makeup off before Harry was tugging her into bed, her lipstick smeared across his face as much as hers.  This is his first time really witnessing that transition, and he likes it more than he thought he would.

There are, however, a few things that he knows Y/N likes before bed, and he gives her a moment of privacy to change into her pyjamas while he makes the quick trip to his kitchen to fill a tall glass with cold water.  He doesn’t need to grab an extra blanket this time— he’d already made sure to toss the knit afghan onto his bed before Y/N arrived, and he finds it draped over her body when he returns to his bedroom.

“You look cozy.” He comments with a fond smile, handing the mortal girl the glass of water as he pulls back the other half of the blankets.  He climbs underneath the covers, propping his elbow up on his pillow as he lies on his side to watch as she takes a sip of the drink. “Y’alright, love?  Need anything else?”

Y/N shakes her head as she sets the glass down on the bedside table and settles back into her pillows, stifling a yawn into the back of her hand.  She always gets sleepy after she has a few drinks, something she’d explained to Harry— much to his amusement— a few weeks prior, after a movie night at her house when he’d made his famous margaritas.  They’d been having a Harry Potter marathon, and they’d barely begun the second before her eyes had started to flutter closed. 

“I’m good, I think.” She tugs the blankets up to her chin, tilting her head to the side to find Harry already staring at her with a soft expression. “Actually…” Extending a hand to him, she lifts her covers off her body enough to indicate what she wants. “C’mere.”

A boyish giggle falls from the vampire’s strawberry lips, and he flicks off the lamp before crawling towards Y/N in the enveloping darkness.  He folds himself right into her side, opening his own arms for her to slide into, but is surprised when her hand finds his shoulder and tugs him closer to her.

Harry takes the hint and hesitantly settles himself onto her own body, allowing the mortal girl to rest his head along her collarbones, his ear finding a home just above her beating pulse.  One of her hands knots itself in his hair, delicately detangling his messy curls as the other finds a home on his naked shoulder blade, rubbing over his defined muscles with the hottest touch Harry has ever felt. 

It’s a vulnerable position, one that Harry hasn’t been in for decades.  And yet, instead of feeling the usual mix of fear and trepidation, all Harry can feel is comfort.  The combined sensation of Y/N playing with his hair and massaging his shoulder is more pleasurable than he ever could’ve assumed.  A month ago, that would have confused him.  But now… he exhales softly as Y/N’s nails lightly scratch along his scalp.  He can be vulnerable with her.  He trusts her.  And, to his extreme luck, she seems to trust him.

A few minutes pass with nothing said between the pair, the silence around them punctuated with only the sound of their breathing and Y/N’s lone heartbeat.  If Harry didn’t know better, he’d think that Y/N had fallen asleep, but his sharp senses know that’s not true; her pulse is still a few beats faster than it normally is, and her breathing hasn’t completely evened out yet.

Sure enough, Harry’s suspicions are confirmed when Y/N whispers into the darkness a moment later, as if she could hear him mentally assessing her body language. “Harry?” Her voice is gentle, halfway between a whisper and a murmur, as if she’s afraid to be any louder. “Are you awake?”

Harry bites back the smirk that threatens to overtake his lips. “Mhmm.” He hums, nuzzling his head further into Y/N’s caring touch. “Still awake.”

She matches his hum of acknowledgement, the pads of her fingers pressing deeper into the knots of his back. “I was wondering…” Her voice thickens with hesitation. “Would you, um, would you sing for me?”

Without completely lifting himself from her chest, Harry raises his eyes to meet her own, her fingers pausing their motions through his locks as he does so. “Sing?” He asks, taken off guard by the out-of-the-blue request. “Y’want me to sing?”

Although there’s a shadow of shyness across her face, Y/N nods slowly. “I heard you humming earlier today, while you were cooking, and it sounded nice, so I was just thinking about it…” She clears her throat nervously, and Harry can hear the wave of blood that rises to her cheeks. “But you don’t have to.  I know it’s late—”

“No, petal.” Harry hurries to ease her, a frown settling onto his face as he hears her breathing grow shallower with anxiety. “S’fine.  No need to get shy.” Harry is amazed at how smoothly the reassurance falls from his lips. “Yeah, I’ll sing for you.  Any requests?”

Despite him telling her not to be shy, Y/N just shrugs her shoulders in response to his question, her eyes locked on the ceiling above them as if she can’t bring herself to meet his gaze.  Harry plants a kiss along her clavicle before settling back into her plush chest, mentally running through the catalogue of songs he’d been humming earlier.  He should pick something soft, he thinks.  Something like a lullaby.

Y/N resumes her gentle combing through Harry’s locks, mostly to distract herself from his thoughtful silence.  She shouldn’t have asked him to sing something— he’d made it clear earlier that playing the piano for people was something that made him nervous.  They’d sung together playfully multiple times, and Y/N could tell that Harry has a pretty voice, but half-singing, half-rapping along to the Hamilton soundtrack is so different than singing to her in the darkness of his bedroom.  She shouldn’t have asked.  In fact, she should tell him to just forget it, and—

“I had a thought, dear, however scary, about that night, the bugs and the dirt.” Harry’s low vibrato echoes around the previously silent room, his voice no louder than a murmur.  Y/N can feel the vibrations of his vocal chords against her chest, a quiet hum that soothes her like nothing else ever has. “Why were you digging?  What did you bury, before those hands pulled me from the Earth?”

Harry clears his throat quietly between the stanzas, his own eyes drifting close.  He’s never been one for stage fright— he’s always been eager to show off his vocal skills, and there’d been a time when all he wanted was to sing on stage in a smoky speakeasy.  But this— singing in the quiet of his bedroom for an audience of one— is more intimate than he’s used to, and he knows if he catches Y/N’s observant gaze right now, he’ll lose his nerve.

“I will not ask you where you came from; I will not ask and neither should you.” Harry tunes his ear to the steady pulse of Y/N’s heart, using the rhythm as a makeshift metronome to keep his time.  To keep himself steady. “Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips; we should just kiss like real people do.”

Harry feels a spike of warmth against the top of his head, and it takes him a moment longer than normal to realize that it’s Y/N’s lips pressing against his hair.  As he continues to sing, she times her caresses of his ringlets with the beat of his words, which he keeps timed with the beat of her heart.  They’re in a cycle, he realizes as he quietly sings the second verse into her skin. She’s lined up with him as he lines up with her.  They’re locked together, steadying the other while relying on them to keep them steady in return.  For the first time in two hundred years, Harry feels truly in sync with someone.

“Honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips,” Y/N’s mouth smudges against his temple once more as he nudges his nose along the base of her throat, allowing himself to press his own lips against the satin skin of her chest, just over her heart. He feels like he could stay in this moment forever, which means something given that he truly does have forever. He’d spend every second of the rest of eternity frozen in this instant, if the world allowed it. He’s content, and relaxed, and cradled in his duvet with the one other soul who has somehow managed to thaw the coldness from his stony heart. For the first time in too long, he feels like an actual person again. He isn’t bogged down by his carnal instincts, or by the fear of losing his composure, or by the fact that he doesn’t have a thumping rhythm behind his ribs. 

He doesn’t need all of that because he has Y/N, and she makes him feel more real than all of those aspects ever could. 

“We could just kiss like real people do.”

[mrsmount16]

Hey I was wondering if you could write a MM imagine where him and the reader have only gone on a couple of dates then when the announcement of the first lockdown is made he asks the reader to isolate with him? Then I was thinking while they’re isolating they’re experiencing a few Firsts with each other (e.g., cooking together, sharing a bed, movie nights, cuddles and kisses etc).

I didn't know how to write this without being super long and boring so I was going to section it off but hopefully it still gives off the same energy then a normal write lmao, also thank you for the request and this is such a good idea 😩. I didn't really know what other firsts to do😕 I haven’t proof read this either, so it could make no sense at all and probably have spelling mistakes but pls just power through it 🤞🏼

Warning: None.

Lockdown was being announced and everyone was panicking, the news emphasised on the amount of food people were buying and how there was no loo roll left but also about how relationships weren't going to work out due to being locked in the houses for all this time without seeing your significant other or because you was seeing them too much.

You had only been on a couple of dates with Mason, but you both knew that you wanted to pursue something more personal and deep and not just mess around for the fun of it. Thats why when he asked you to isolate with him you didn't hesitate to say yes. Even though the news told you otherwise of how to feel you simply ignored and couldn't wait to spend as much time with him as possible, building up a true connection between you both and making your bond stronger.

Cuddling and kisses and sharing a bed.

You arrived earlier in the day and had already taken your things to the spare bedroom and now sat on his couch, him on the opposite side. You guys hadn't stopped talking throughout the whole movie that played and eventually when it ended you insisted that you bought a takeaway for the both of you.

He agreed and when the pizza arrived you both sat at the table and had a slice, talking endlessly about random things like 'why colours are named what they are' and 'how were humans created'. After about an hour, it was dark out and just turned 9pm.

"I'm gonna get comfy and ready for bed."

"Yeah, I'll meet you up there in a few." He smiled and kissed your cheek, grabbing the box and walking off outside.

It was pretty cold out so you pulled on a hoodie and joggers, and you removed your makeup and cleaned your face and teeth and sat on the bed in the free room on your phone.

He knocked on the door and peaked his head through the door frame at about 10.

"You coming?" He gestures to his room.

"Oh yeah, hold up." You smile watching him leave.

He lay on the bed on his phone, lighting up when he saw you enter.

"You don't have to stay in here if you don't want to." He stated, watching as you climbed into bed next to him.

"No, I want to." You snuggled up next to him, resting your head on the pillow.

"I want you to, too." He put an arm around your waist and finally rested down after turning the light off on the bedside table.

You were both submerged in complete darkness, a tranquil atmosphere surrounded you both, the duvet lazily spread across you and your faces faced each other. His eyes were closed, but you lightly leaned in and pecked his lips causing him to open his eyes.

"Goodnight." You said, looking up at him.

"Goodnight pretty." He smiled, kissing you again lightly and resting his head.

You fell asleep in his arms, totally engulfed with his care and serenity, it rubbed off onto you. This was the best sleep you ever had in ages, and you wanted to do it a lot more.

Cooking.

"Hey! Thats not where the flour goes." You retaliated at Mason putting the flour on your nose, a sneeze followed shortly after.

"Oh, my bad." He giggled, sticking the rest of the flour in the bowl.

"These are going to be the best cupcakes you have ever baked."You said, mixing all the ingredients with all the strength you had.

"Yeah? I reckon by myself I could cook some pretty good cupcakes. With no help of Course." He leaned against the counter, his apron said 'world best chef' and he was covered in all ingredients that you didn't even know had to be in the cupcakes.

"Well, we will see about that once you taste my cakes." You smirked, sticking your tongue out at him and wiping a little bit of frosting on his cheek. "Got u back." You giggled.

He grabbed you by your waist and pulled you closer to him so your front's were together.

"You look amazing cooking.." He cheekily smiled.

"Not too bad yourself." You kissed him, he deepened the kiss and ran his hand up your back, until you felt a hard crack on your head and then an ooze of a liquid go down your back, mason was laughing uncontrollably, holding his stomach and near enough rolling on the floor.

"Mason!" You shouted, shocked and holding your head, "Did you just egg me?" You laughed, grabbing the egg that was on you and smearing it all over him.

"Two can play that game!" You giggled, grabbing flower and eggs.

Fight and makeup.

"No, I just don't particularly like her. You told me about what she did, she's a bad influence." He argued back.

"Oh, so she's a bad influence? So you think I would do something like that?" You scoffed. Your friend invited you to go on a walk around the park, and you told Mason but when he heard your friends name he instantly scoffed and shrugged his shoulders. He had no care about it and sighed, telling you to just 'do what you wanna, your choice at the end of the day.'. You asked why he was being so moody and he replied that he doesn't like her, and you understood why but because he didn't like her didn't mean that you couldn't hang with her. You did tell him that she did cheat on her boyfriend and you completely disagreed with her actions too but now he was saying she was a 'bad influence' like you was going to be influenced by what she did and start following her actions like you was a child.

"Its only for a catch up Mase, I haven't seen her in like 3 weeks. I haven't been at work remember and ive been locked up here."

"Yes, but anyone but her. We could go. I't doesn't matter, just go. Ill see you when you get back." And then he stormed off up to his gaming room, releasing all his stress on his games.

After about 40 minutes, you realised he was right, it wasn't just the cheating but she just overall was a bad person and you shouldn't have been encouraging such gossip with her.

You entered his room and put your hands on his shoulders, he looked back at you and then carried on his game like you wasn't even there.

"I'm sorry Mase, you was right. I can surround myself with much better people, and I will."

He turned his chair around so he was facing you and grabbed your hips to sit you down on his lap.

"It's okay, and ill go on that walk with you. Let me just finish this game." He said, smiling lightly and giving you a kiss which you returned.

Go-to support.

It was about 2 months into lockdown and your work had been piling up. You was stressed and so not motivated to do anything, even getting up out of bed was hard.

This day was particularly a struggle. You had to finish a presentation and only had today to do it, so you panicked and speeded it, finishing it as quick as ou could without caring about the outcome and just sending it off.

You sat at the kitchen table with your face in your hands, thinking about all the possibilities, will you lose your job? Will you get demoted? You just couldn't stop your mind from wandering.

"Are you okay babe?" You heard Masons voice from behind you and felt a hand on your back soothing you.

You couldn't hold it in anymore and broke down, whimpering and wiping your eyes.

"Mason I need a break from work, its so stressful and I think with the work I just did I'm going to lose my job and im just not motivated to do anything and I-" you rambled on, until he cut you off.

"Hey, hey calm down," He crouched down and placed his hand on the side of your face, wiping your tears away with his thumb. "Don't beat yourself up about it. It's happening to everyone now, im sure if we ask your work to give you some time for your mental health im sure they would let you." he smiled reassuringly.

"We?" You sniffed.

"Yeah, we. We're gonna get through this together. Now, it's always we." He stood up and hugged you tight.

Love and a movie night.

It's been about a 5 months now, and you and Mason had been going strong.

Mason insisted that you watch a movie tonight, sit down with some popcorn and snuggle up together. Of course you said yes.

About halfway in the movie, a conversation popped up about 'what would you do if you was a worm?' and you couldn't stop laughing, at both of your responses.

"Yeah, but I would definitely still love you if you was a worm." He joked, laughing with you.

You stopped almost instantly, looking over at him.

"What?" He looked over, confused.

"Did you just say that you love me?" You questioned, sitting up.

"You didn't hear? I love you." He smiled, chuckling.

you gasped, putting your hands over your mouth. He reached out and grabbed your face.

"I love you." He repeated, just for you to realise what he did, so you could know that it was real, to process the words.

"I love you." You stated, grinning from ear to ear.

[scaramoucheslove]

Oo hello!! I discovered your Albedo fic while on my scroll, and sheeesh 😫😫 made me feel things,,,,, but I digress, could I request how Xiao or Albedo would deal with a bratty sub?

And,, if I may,, could I be 🏵 anon? ;0

A/N: Hi, Love! Tysm for your support <33 I actually thought no one liked or even read the Albedo smut lolol. Also yes ofcc!! Hello my first anon :D also I’m gonna make this as a HC/drabble thingy hehe

also I’m so sorry if it’s shitty aaa 

How they would deal with a bratty sub (HCs)

(Xiao, Albedo)

What to expect: Rough shit, Petnames, Dacryphilia, Overstimulation, Degradation, Dumbification, facefucking, Exhibition kink pls tell me if I miss anything ^^

Smut beneath the cut

XIAO

·         Really easy to get on his nerves tbh.

·         Would definitely not tolerate your behaviour. Especially if you’ve been good.

·         “Stop. Behave.”

·         His punishments would lowkey highkey hurt </3

·         He’ll give you the rough treatment, choking, marking, overstim, you name it. Maybe even toys??

·         D E G R A D A T I O N <33 you will be hearing no praise from this man.

·         Humiliation too omgomgomg

·         DUMBIFICATIONNN AA

·         Will most likely use the name “Pet” “Doll” “Bitch” “Slut” “Whore” etc

·         And you’ll have to call him master in bed, but today we’re going to pretend that you just didn’t feel like it.

·         “Tsk, seems like my pet is misbehaving again”

·         I feel like he wouldn’t like physical roughness as much, since he’s not much of a sadist. But if he felt the need to remind you of what your position was, then he’d probably only go as far as spanking.

·         If you cry, he’ll humiliate you for it

·         “Are you crying? Where’s your act now, brat? Continue counting.”

·         Deep down, he loves lives to see you cry.

·         He’d continue to overstimulate you with his mouth, fingers, and dick until you were begging, crying, screaming, thrashing.

·         He’d mark almost every part of your body

·         He WILL choke you and bite your neck as he’s pushing himself inside of you.

·         Mans has no patience, will go ALL out on you. Who cares if his hands and tongue were too much anyways? You were the one who wanted to act like a brat.

·         “If you don’t keep that little mouth shut, I’m going to stuff your slutty mouth with my dick you whore.”

·         And if you keep pushing his buttons? He would.

·         Completely facefuck you until you’re all fucked out, crying and out of breath.

·         He loves to see himself in your throat.

·         The type to hold your nose while he shoves his dick down your throat  <3

·         Not the best at aftercare, but he still tries his best.

·         Will apologize to you even if it’s half assed, gets you cleaned up, and brews you a nice cup of tea.

·         You probably drifted off to sleep already once he brought you tea.

·         Will smile and hold you close and even though he doesn’t sleep, he would still just lie on the bed and appreciate every moment with you.

                                             “Xia- Master- ah- please” you didn’t even know what you were begging for now. For him to stop? For more? You didn’t know. What you do know is you’ve been begging for over an hour now, your voice was hoarse and tired after all your screaming. Your eyes were watery and begging for forgiveness. But alas, it went from one ear to another. The room sounded so sinful. The two of your sweaty bodies collided, your arms clinging onto his neck as he continues to pound into you. Faster. And harder. “Stop. Fucking. Shouting.” He said while he thrusts in every word. Annoyance clear in his voice. “Shut up and take it, will you?” He said before moving his arms from your hips to your neck and applying pressure. “Dumb little sluts like you don’t even deserve anything from the likes of me.” Seeing your drooled up face, he couldn’t help but say “Look at you all drooled up, doll. You look so stupid like this. Who else can fuck you stupid like I do?” “O-only you mas-ter” you managed to say. He smiled momentarily before his other hand reaches your clit to rub it as your mouth fell open. Fighting the urge to call you his good girl.

 ALBEDO

·         I’M IN MY ALBEDO FEELS PLSS

·         He’d just be like 🤨🤨.

·         Usually completely unaware and uninterested so he’d continue to do his work.

·         You have to be a real brat to really test his limits.

·         I think he wont be rough intentionally. He’s just rough without realizing he is. Even on your daily sex life.

·         OKOK NOW if you DO manage to break him somehow, here’s some of the punishments he’ll prolly do.

·         Humiliation.… degradation… bc chile… he ain’t much of a talker but SHEESH if he dirty talks it’s over. Oh but he won’t go too far. I hope..

·         He also sometimes uses you to help with his experiments.

·         Spanks, chokes, slaps, and other physical things but not too roughly, just for “research purposes.” And sometimes for punishments too if you ever got too out of hand.

·         Loves to see you tied up tbh <33 really likes to see you all helpless.

·         Gags on occasions (if he’s working on an experiment or punishment and he’s not in the mood to hear you moan or make a noise or anything)

·         Dumbification?? without him realizing it?>@>@*&^$^$% 

·         Petnames <33 plspls i beg u call him sir or master bc that’s such an ego boost for him. I mean you don’t have to but like,, why wouldn’t you.

·         Also loves the thrilling feeling of someone catching you two.

·         Toys,, sometimes.

·         Imagine being a brat in your daily life and one day he just snaps.

·         As he was doing his work, you, being the brat you are continued to test his limit. From asking him dumb questions to “accidentally” smashing/destroying his experiments.

·         He just sighed, cleared his table and said,

·         “Y/N. Come here.”

·         You would be so shocked that you froze in your spot.

·         He never really paid attention to your actions, just casually answering your questions from time to time.

·         “I said, come here.”

·         His voice was stern, but calm.

·         “Don’t make me come over there myself.”

·         You, along with your shaking legs, were slowly making your way towards him.

·         “Sit on my lap.”

·         You did as you were told. Hell you were too scared to do anything he didn’t say you could.

·         “Say, did you know the things you broke?”

·         You just shooked your head as your legs kept shaking.

·         “Since you don’t know how to keep your hands to yourself, I’m gonna force you to keep it to yourself, brat.”

·         OOP I ACCIDENTALLY WROTE IT AS A HC LMAOO IDK I’LL CONTINUE IN THE DRABBLE LMAO

.         Anyways probably kinda good with aftercare.

.         Will apologize if he’s too rough and shower you with attention. If you’re lucky enough, he’ll skip his work that day and the day after to spend a day or two to make it up to you.

                                       Albedo continues his ministrations on you. “Master- fuck slow down” you panted. Your hands tied above your head. you were sprawled on his table as Albedo continues to insert 2 fingers inside and out of you. “Oh? Were you not searching for my attention then dear?” He inserted another finger as you whimpered. “You were the one who happened to mess with my experiments, after all.” “But I-“ you didn’t manage to say anything else before he has his tongue on your clit. He had kept your legs open with a tool so you had no power against him. “Albedoo~” You whine once more which caused his other gloved hand to slap your clit. You flinched a bit, but fuck that felt good. He stopped moving his hands and said “You better be quiet before I gag that mouth of yours.” He continued to thrust three fingers in and out of you again as you rolled your eyes back and moaned. “Fuck, you look so dumb, doll. You look so pretty like this.” You heard the door knock and you immediately looked at Albedo while shaking your head. “Come in” you heard him say. A man went inside the room and stood still with some files in his hands and clearly distracted on whatever was on the paper. “Sir, we have a prob-“ Once he saw what was going on, he looked a bit terrified. “Continue. What is the problem?” Albedo asked calmly as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. They continued to talk about some things you couldn’t register because you were slowly losing your mind little by little, although the man did sound a bit flustered. By the time they were finished, Albedo just said his thanks and told him to close the door. His mouth latched onto your clit once again surprisingly fast and your mouth fell open. You were sure drool was everywhere. “I’m going to keep going until you’re all brainless and unconscious. But before I do-“ just as about you were about to reach your high, he pulled out his fingers and gave you a look. You whined at the lost of contact. “You better be ready, my love.” That was all he needed to say before you realized, you were in for one hell of a ride.

STOP OMFG I DIDN’T MEAN TO MAKE ALBEDO’S LONG I HAVENT EVEN FINISHED THE CHILDE SMUT I’M WORKING ON

[everythingharrypotterblog]

charmed [5]: ‘cycle’ (remus lupin x reader)

SMUT. professor! remus x professor!y/n. can be read as a one-shot, or as part 5 of the charmed series :) pls go show part 4 some love, and the rest of the chapters if u liked this! <3

brief summary: full moon approaching= horny as fuck remus. he can’t keep his eyes/hands off y/n, and after a whole day of being needy between classes, they ... ;) dom!remus, oral fem!receiving, fingering, size kink, ye

nsfw gifs for inspo:   x      x

a/n: i got rejected from my top choice university program today so if im gonna be unhappy, might as well make u guys happy and release parts 5 and 7

series summary: set in the prisoner of azkaban, including its major plot points. remus and y/n get hired by dumbledore last minute to teach at hogwarts, defense against the dark arts and charms respectively. not wanting the students to know they are married, they navigate the challenging year through hidden glances, hand holds underneath the table and loving moments in their offices. even with all their efforts to conceal their relationship, their chemistry does not go unnoticed by the student population of hogwarts, who grow fond of the pair as they offer them some of the best classes they’ve had in a while. their relationship as newlyweds is strengthened as teaching the next generation of wizards unlocks a sea of memories of their love story. for the second time in his life, remus holds hogwarts responsible for some of his happiest memories. he’s given the chance to create them with the love of his life, y/n, who has taught and continues to teach him that every part of him is lovable, remaining forever under her charm.

series masterlist here

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5. 

Remus’ life was lived in cycles, various phases of the moon commandeering partially how he felt. 

His sex drive was always pretty high; how could he not feel desire- when he had Y/N around him in his life. They had a great sex life, and Remus was definitely one to get ‘love boners’, where he would see Y/N do something not remotely suggestive but would get the desire to fuck out of sheer adoration..

When the full moon came close, however… it was on a whole other level. His body carried tension and almost an incurable itch on the days preceding his transformation. His senses flared like a wolf’s, like hearing, touch and vision. It was his sense of smell, however, that enhanced the most. For about 2-5 days leading to the full moon, his smell became much sharper. If Y/N had recently showered, her fresh scent would overwhelm his nostrils, or if she got sweaty too. The second she got aroused, Remus would be able to pick it up, and the urge to bury his face in between her legs would wash over him.

So, he 300% got way hornier during this period of time. Paired up with his senses on overdrive, all he could think about during those few days was sex with Y/N, the tiniest things she did would get him instantly hard. He’d be turned on all the time.

As the month of September came to a close, both Y/N could definitely sense her husband’s even-higher-than-normal yearning. Remus’ persona in public never revealed how much of a beast he could be in the bedroom, always calm, respectful, prudent. He treated Y/N with the upmost care, and once they got to Hogwarts, with the upmost professionalism. That quickly faltered in the last couple of days.

The second students were out of her last class, he had her pushed up against the wall, the door of the classroom safely locked. Y/N even had to cancel one Charms practice session, because Remus wasn’t able to keep his hands off her: pulling her close to him and rubbing her back while he buried his nose in the perfume of her hair. When they graded or read together in the evenings, he would bend her over the desk, then take her again in the shower that night. Every morning, Y/N would wake up in the best way possible, feeling Remus’ tight hold behind her and his already hard cock rutting up against the flesh of her butt.

This morning, however, the couple wasn’t able to squeeze in a nice wake-up shag. They had overslept, and Y/N who started at 9am while Remus at 10, had to to get to class. She hurried off, getting dressed and down for a quick breakfast, leaving Remus waking up alone, humping the sheets slightly.

His frustrations lasted all day, and definitely were not aided when he saw that Y/N was wearing his favourite pair of pants of hers at lunchtime. While the way they looked at each other always somewhat hinted at their romance, Remus’ gaze was especially obvious, like he was mentally undressing her everywhere they went.

He was presently in between classes, sitting at a table in the staff room and trailing his wand over the lines of a student’s essay he was reading. He lifted his head when he heard the door creak open, and Y/N walked in happily, carrying a stack of papers in her hands. His thread was almost thrown back as he caught a whiff of her, just pure her, mixed with a hint of… arousal? She was wet, Remus thought lewdly.

Spotting Remus, Y/N gave him a big smile, then turned towards a little desk that had some of her stuff on it. Remus gave her a cheeky wink before his eyes followed her, unabashedly fixed on how those pants fit her so nicely. Y/N bent down to store the papers into her bag, and Remus quickly had to look away, forcing his gaze on the window before he would get hard.

“Hi, my love.” He smiled gently as she approached him, turning his chair and pulling her onto his lap.

“Rem!” Y/N whispered, jerking her head towards Professor Sprout.

She was the only other teacher there, but to Remus’ greatest delight, she seemed to have snoozed off in her armchair.

“She’s asleep.” Remus whispered back, hands running everywhere on Y/N’s body as she settled herself comfortably in his lap. “Besides, I missed you.”

“Aw, pumpkin-“ Y/N giggled, accepting Remus’ kiss as he pressed his lips on hers. “I, missed, you, too” She murmured in between kisses.

Remus’ hands were getting antsy, as one went to go squeeze Y/N’s breasts and the other caressed over her butt, smoothing over the thin fabric of her dress pants. The kiss deepened as they both began breathing heavier.

“Don’t,” Y/N breathed in, breaking apart from Remus’ soft face. “Don’t you have class in like-“ She glanced at the clock. “5 minutes?!”

Remus peered over her head and groaned, shaking his tousled head. “And you do too darling, right?”

“Yeah, it’s my last one of the day.” Y/N frowned.

Remus’ gaze softened, nuzzling Y/N’s nose with the tip of his own, in a cute little Eskimo kiss- type action.

“I really love these pants, you know, I’m wondering if you wore these on purpose” He grinned, the hand on her butt petting the material softly.

“Maybe, I did….” Y/N smiled back, their faces centimeters away from each other’s.

Remus, ears full of Y/N’s voice, nose full of Y/N’s natural homey scent, didn’t register the door opening again and they both turned with a jolt, when they heard Professor McGonagall clear her throat.

Y/N jumped out of Remus’ lap, Remus smoothing his hands that were all over her body, over his robes.

“Hi, Professor McGonagall- I was just- we were just getting ready for our next l-lesson.” Y/N stammered, face growing hot in embarrassment.

“Yes, class, here- I’ll walk you to your class, darling.” Remus said, bowing his head and following Y/N out of the staff room.

“Mhmm.” Professor McGonagall hummed, peering at the two through her thin rectangle glasses. She didn’t bother reminding them they could call her ‘Minerva’, but as they shuffled out the door, her thin lips curled up in amusement. “Oh, Pomona, I’m sure you are very lucky to be dead asleep right now.” She whispered, to the Herbology teacher whose eyes were sealed shut.

In the hallway, Y/N and Remus burst out laughing once they got a safe distance away.

“I am never going to emotionally recover from that.” Remus choked in between gasps for breath.

“Please, I’m never going to look her in the eye ever again.” Y/N howled, wiping a tear with her wrist. “I mean, at least we were just sitting… and not actually doing.. anything.”

They walked along a couple stairways, their body language having adjusted to the busy Castle. 

“Thanks for walking me, you didn’t have to.” Y/N said, once they reached the Charms classroom. She stood back to the door, hands behind her on the doorknob.

Remus simply smiled courteously, eyes drifting down her. Then, quickly, he peered around them and into the classroom. Seeing it was empty, he reached behind Y/N, turned the doorknob and swirled her inside, pressing her up against the door.

“Oh, Rem-“ Y/N squeaked in surprise, but her voice faded into a soft moan as Remus kissed her, her arms going up to wrap around his neck.

“Sorry, my love, I just can’t get enough of you.” Remus chuckled when they finally pulled apart.

“Hmm.” Y/N licked her lips. Feeling Remus casing her in against the door like this, his big build towering over her, made her knees all weak. “Okay, you know the best part about these pants?” She inquired.

“Hmm? Tell me, sweetheart.” Remus mused, eyelids growing heavy as he stared into her face.

She rose on her tippy toes to meet the height of Remus’ ears, “The material is so thin-”

She spun around, facing the door and pressed her backside against Remus’ front, feeling him through his trousers.

Gasping as Remus’ large hands went up to squeeze both her breasts, further pushing her against the door as he pressed himself against her smaller body, she said, “-I have to wear a thong.”

Remus’ hands on her froze, his eyes growing dark. A low growl was ebbing up his throat but before he could respond, Y/N snaked out of his hold.

“Okay, bye honey- have a good class!” Y/N chirped, grinning widely as she opened the door to let a group of students in.

Remus composed himself in a fraction of a second, a hand raking through his hazel locks in attempt to comb them over.

“Hi, Professor Lupin!” Some students said, happy to see him, to which he answered with a polite and kind “Hello, hello!”, and “Hello, Dean!”.

Once Y/N’s class was over, she hurried up to her living quarters. After taking a hot shower, she climbed onto the bed, in nothing but a thong and one of Remus’ big sleeping shirts. She lied down comfortably, fingers toying with the collar as she waited for her husband. He had one other class after hers and should be finished soon.

Accurately enough, Remus’ figure appeared in the fireplace a few minutes later. His footsteps approached the bedroom and as he entered, his belt was already clinking as he was unfastening it with one hand.

“Oh, baby.” He hummed appreciatively as he took in the sight of Y/N, splayed across their bed, thighs balmy and exposed. “Is that my shirt?”

Y/N nodded, appreciating how Remus’ locks of hair had fallen on his forehead, as if he was constantly running his fingers through them- which he did, in attempt to concentrate when he was giving his last lessons of the day.

Gripping the hem, Y/N lifted the shirt off, exposing her naked chest. Remus made a guttural sound as he lunged forward, going to squeeze, lick and suck over her breasts. His hands wandered south, grazing the wet spot on the cotton stripe that covered Y/N’s mound.

“And whose pussy is this, hmm?” Remus snarled slightly, canines shining as his lips curled into an eager smirk.

Y/N licked her lips as she decided not to answer, her eyes had a glint to them when she stared back challengingly at her husband.

Remus raised an eyebrow, but kept an unfazed demeanour. He stepped back from the bed, taking a stand at the edge of it.

“Okay, baby girl, I see how you’re being. Turn around for me.”

Y/N looked up at him excitedly before slowly turning on the bed, onto her stomach.

Remus let out a small appreciative growl at the sight of Y/N’s ass covered only by a thin thong, right in front of him ready for him to ravage.

“Should’ve started with an easier question, kitten- who does this ass belong to?” Remus simpered.

He bent forward to squeeze both cheeks in his large hands, then went on to graze his teeth softly against the flesh of her ass. He could smell her arousal fully now, the scent of her wetness entering his nostrils and clouding his vision.

When Y/N merely arched her lower back to stick our her bum more prominently, wiggling it, Remus cursed. He roughly palmed the flesh before he lifted his hand and delivered a loud swat to it.

Y/N gripped the sheets in her hands as she yelped out of pleasure.

“You like that, don’t you, you wanted a good spanking from daddy, huh?” Remus hummed, rubbing over the spot soothingly. 

“Yes.” Y/N breathed out shakily. “Please.”

Remus kneaded the flesh in his hands and reveled in the way it would bounce after he spanked it a few more times.

“Oh darling,” he cooed, bending down to leave a slow trail of kisses up Y/N’s back. “Your little bum looks so cute marked up in pink by my hands.”

The skin had pinked, and a considerable area too, considering how large Remus’ hands were.

“Remus, I’m- I’m so wet for you.” Y/N cried, lifting her lower body weight onto her knees so Remus could see her pussy in the air. Glistening and dripping in arousal.

The sight sent adrenaline down Remus’ groin, his cock now painfully hard and straining against his trousers. He could in a flash, shed his lower layers and pound into Y/N’s cunt as his urges wished him to, but he had to get a taste first.

“Really?” He said as he kneeled down on the side of the bed, now eye-level with Y/N’s core. He peeled back her thong, throwing it further on the bed.

“Yes, oh God, please.”

Remus peered over Y/N’s legs to see her face, scrunched up in anticipation. His hands trailed over the side of her thighs, sending visible shivers down her spine. 

“Now, will you be a good girl and tell me… who this pretty ass and pussy belong to?” He said in a low purr, voice husky.

Y/N’s pussy clenched as she felt his face so close to where she needed him to be, his hands cementing themselves around her legs.

“Yours, Remmy, I’m all yours, now please-“ she begged, tears prickling at her eyes because of how much she ached for his touch.

Remus’ hands softly grazed down her back and pressed harshly once they got to the lower part where the curve of her ass began, and pulled her cunt straight into his face.

“Merlin, you smell so fucking sweet.” He swooned, inhaling deeply before quite literally diving into her cunt, his warm tongue stretching to lick against her clit.

Y/N’s eyes rolled back, her head pressing harder into the pillow. “Fuck…” She choked out. Her hips gyrated against Remus’ face, but his firm hold locked her in place as he devoured her.

They both moaned, Remus’ tongue running up her slit a couple times to lap up all the slickness and fully taste it. He gave her clit a quick kiss before sucking on it, taking it in between his lips. 

“Fuck, r-right there.” Y/N breathed out, finally feeling an ounce of her desire fulfilled. 

Remus licked sloppily at her clit, drawing wet circles with his tongue as his entire face was engulfed in her, her wetness dripping and coating his chin and nose. He sighed contently, closing his eyes as he ate her out, his own cock plumping at the feeling of her hips and legs trembling.

It was like meditation, the wolf inside him finally somewhat being appeased. He lapped at her cunt like it was the last thing he’d ever do, tongue running through the soft folds that were sopping and slick from the mix of her arousal and his spit.

“Oh, Rem, oh-“ Y/N moaned, face scrunched in pleasure. The coil in her abdomen wound tighter, she was getting closer and she pushed her hips back against Remus’ mouth. He groaned into her cunt, his hands squeezing her fleshy hips harder, desperately stuffing his face into her. He loved it. 

He maintained his rhythm, focusing on suckling and flicking his tongue on her clit until she came with a cry, hips shaking out of his hold. He flattened his tongue to run it up her labia, and ended by planting a tender kiss on her sensitive clit before pulling away, slightly more sated than before.

“Delicious.” Remus panted, standing up and watching Y/N languidly turn over onto her back once again. He wiped his mouth and the tip of his nose clean with the back of his hand, Y/N watching with her face hot.

Y/N scooted to sit at the edge of the bed, ogling him. He towered over her as he stayed standing, looking down at her through heavy hungry eyelids, covered by his brown hair that was getting slightly messier.

“Wanna taste you.” Y/N smiled, reaching behind Remus’ kneecaps to bring him closer.

Remus chuckled darkly, his long arm needing to barely reach to stroke Y/N’s jaw.

“You look so cute from up here, dove, makes me want to play with you and see you cum, all over again.” He said, voice low.

Y/N bit her lip, not breaking eye contact with her husband.

“So gorgeous.” He groaned as Y/N took his thumb between her lips, suckling the pad of the finger. “You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking.. of what I want to do to you, how much I want to take that body of yours.”

“Then take me.” Y/N exhaled, mouth letting go of his thumb and smiling devilishly.

Remus’ eyes, if possible, turned darker in desire and he bent down, kissing Y/N passionately on the lips as his hands travelled down her naked torso. 

“Hmm, you’re so small, kitten,” Remus hummed, eyes following his hand that went to cup in between her legs. “Look how small your little pussy is in my hand.”

His fingers curled to feel how wet it was, Y/N spreading her thighs apart for him to access easier. He used his middle and ring finger to lather up some of her slickness, then dragged them up to her clit and started soft circles on it. Y/N whimpered, legs closing from how sensitive her bud was from her previous orgasm.

“Now, now pet.” Remus tutted, pulling away.

He licked the tips of his fingers clean, then shrugged off his woolly cardigan, hanging it on the back of a nearby chair. The full moon approaching always got his body temperature hotter than usual, so he skipped wearing a cloak today, and was left in his white dress shirt and tie. He slowly rolled up his sleeves, exposing his forearms. Y/N couldn’t keep her eyes off his hands as he did so. Long, mature fingers with metal rings adorning the base of each.

“Keep your legs nice and spread f’me, alright, as I stuff you with my fingers.”

Bending forward again, he leaned one arm on the bed beside Y/N as his other hand found her clit again. The thick pads of his fingers played with her clit, rubbing the spot as Y/N bit her lip, body firing up for another orgasm.

“So cute, button.” He mused, nuzzling the top of Y/N’s head. “Look at that, your clit feels so little under my fingers, don’t you think? And your cunt, ah-“

He dipped a finger inside her, sliding right in and quickly added another one. Slowly petting the soft spongy walls of Y/N’s pussy, Y/N mewled, rutting her hips for more.

“So tight, so full just of my fingers. Tell me darling, do you like my fingers?”

“Mhhm.” Y/N nodded as Remus sped up. “Love your fingers, your hands, they’re so b-big.” She choked out, head hanging back as he fingered her.

“You like that? You fucking love how I can get you off with just m’fingers, yeah? Lord, this pussy’s so tight how will my cock even fit hmm?” Remus crooned, watching Y/N adoringly as he was knuckles deep inside her, his rings feeling cold upon her entrance.

Y/N opened her eyes, meeting Remus’ soft, scar-decorated face and turned her head to kiss him. Remus suckled on her spit-slicked lips, maintaining his fingers and bent his hand for the bone of his palm to press against her clit. Y/N gasped into the kiss, lips gaped apart as she whimpered into Remus’ mouth. Remus smiled, loving how flustered she was as she struggled to kiss him back, soaking in all her little cries and noises she made. 

His fingers inside her were going so fast, relentlessly hitting her g-spot over and over that his hard palm was grinding against her clit incessantly. Faster than the first time, she came, squeezing onto his forearm.

Fingers riding out her high, they slowed and pulled out, drenched in her wetness. Y/N collapsed onto her back, chest heaving.

“Oh, baby you are so beautiful.” Remus simpered, climbing on the bed and leaning over her to kiss her everywhere; her shoulders, neck, cheeks. “You think you got another one in you, bunny? Think you can let Moony bury his cock inside you?”

“Yes, give it to me please.” Y/N grinned widely, licking her lips and pulled Remus down by his tie, locking lips with him once more. “Need you inside me.”

“Oh, puppy. I am going to ruin you.” Remus said, this time in such a low murmur that had he not been an inch close to Y/N’s face, her ears wouldn’t have registered the tone.

Y/N sat up, helping her husband rid himself of his clothes. His bare chest exposed a few thin scars, which Y/N quickly smoothed her hands and lips over, routinely giving love to them, as she knew it was the part Remus couldn’t stand of his body.

Remus freed his hard-on, which was blushed an angry shade of dark pink. The bulbous head had been leaking of precum for a while now, and he exhaled a couple ragged breaths when he stroked himself, hand twisting around his tip. Y/N had leaned over to their bedside table to open a condom, and she replaced his hand with hers, pumping his long member before sliding it on. Remus already felt himself throb, and he knew that soon he’d be even more as Y/N’s pussy felt 100 times better than her hand.

“How do you want me?” Y/N breathed, backing up to the head of the bed as Remus went on his knees.

This was more of a rhetorical question, really, as it has been like this for years, that at every moon cycle end, their favourite was for Remus to take Y/N from behind. Y/N turned onto her elbows and knees, bending forward to prop her ass up.

“That’s it, good girl.” Remus licked his lips, lining himself up and pushed his cock slowly into Y/N’s warmth. 

He let out a loud hiss, face contorted in pleasure as he sank fully into her, his long, hard member stretching Y/N out to the fullest, filling her to the brim. “Merlin.” He said through gritted teeth, eyes dropping to where he disappeared into Y/N’s behind. “You always manage to stay so tight for me, darling- fuck, your pussy’s just squeezing m’cock so right, isn’t it?”

Y/N merely moaned, head dropping forward as she balanced her upper weight on her elbows, overwhelmed by feeling every single vein of Remus’ cock sliding in and out of her slowly. She clenched hard around him, causing his hips to tremor as Remus’ senses, including touch, were amplified tenfold.

He ceased momentarily, his cock just resting heavy inside Y/N’s cunt, his head deep at her g-spot. Y/N mewled, arching her back and twerked her hips, fucking herself back onto his cock. Remus growled at the sight, spanked her once, then his hands dived to grab the curve of her waist as he snapped, hips pounding into her now mercilessly.

“Oh God, fuck!” Y/N cried out with her head thrown back, as her elbows gave out from underneath her and her face sank forward into a heap of pillows. Her ass still up in the air, flesh slightly pink from Remus’ spanks delivered to it- it was a wonder how he didn’t cum from the sight of that alone as he fucked her from behind.

Remus kept up his quick rhythm, hips thrusting into her ruthlessly. They were both close, and Remus fucked into Y/N without an ounce or self-restraint left. He grunted loudly as she fell forward and her inner walls clenching down onto his member. His cock slipped in and out of her deliciously, as she had gotten so wet for him, sinful sounds echoing the room.

He bent forward, chest pressing against her back, their skin sweaty. 

“‘S that feel good, darling?” Remus said, lips ghosting over Y/N’s ear. She shuddered, his breath sending shivers up her neck as she felt him so close. His voice wasn’t his usual chesty, tenor honey-like. His words were uttered in a guttural one, his voice deeper, lower, sounding from the back of his throat. “You’re taking me so well- your pussy feels like heaven, sweetheart.”

Y/N’s ears registered the praise as music, living for it. He adjusted his hips slightly to accommodate the new angle, thrusting to make sure he was hitting all the spots in Y/N he knew she liked.

“Mphhhm, please baby,” Y/N moaned, voice slightly muffled into the pillow. She turned her head to the side to rest her cheek on it instead. “Please Remus, oh-“ her voice whimpered, a little more clearly now.

Remus’ large hands had been gripping onto the flesh of Y/N’s hips roughly, tightly. He moved one up to her breasts, grabbing it and massaging it. His breath was hot on her back. He was nearing his orgasm too, his breathing loud and shaggy. Heaving grunts echoed off the walls of the rooms, and Y/N arched her back to feel his chest rise up and down against it.

“Good girl, good fucking girl- taking my cock so well. Shit.”

Remus let out a growl as he felt his cock be swallowed up in her cunt, her ribbed walls enveloping it so nicely as he ploughed into her. 

“You’re close aren’t you, dove?” He murmured into her neck with the same low voice, placing wet kisses onto it. Her hair was out of the way onto the other side, and he tasted the slight stickiness of how sweaty their night’s activities had gotten her. 

“Yes, yes, ye-es” Y/N chanted in a strangled voice, her words getting split at her throat from Remus’ vigorous pounding.

“Can tell from how tightly you’re squeezing me- shit, not going to last long either inside you like this. C’mon baby, c’mon. Cum for me.”

It was all too much. Y/N shaked as she felt Remus pump into her a few more crucial times. He felt so thick in her walls, his girth filling her up like no other. Moaning, her hips grinded back into Remus as she started to cum. She felt his warm hand reach down her belly and down to between her thighs and with the added pressure from the circles he rubbed on her clit, she came with a shudder. Her body shook as her breath caught in her throat, a string of profanities leaving her lips. Y/N’s sounds of pleasure filled Remus’ ears, driving him further into ecstasy.

“Good girl.” Remus purred, hips jerking forward frantically. 

“Remus, fill me up-“ Y/N moaned, knowing Remus loved hearing his name fall off her tongue like that. She propped herself back onto her elbow, reaching one hand behind her to hold the back of Remus’ neck. 

Remus pressed the side of his face into Y/N’s neck, her hand keeping him close to her. He growled into her ear, the low sound vibrating from his throat enough to make Y/N’s eyes roll back. Driving his cock into her, desperately chasing his high, he rutted his cock into her walls. His entire body strained as all his muscles worked to relieve himself, needily fucking out his animalistic urges. He came with a gasp, his hips jerked harshly as he shot ropes and ropes of cum into the condom. 

Panting, he hunched forward as his cock kept twitching. 

His whole muscular body trembled as he squeezed his eyes shut in the pleasure of his long-needed release. His hand was grasped onto Y/N’s chest and she loved the feeling, tilting her hips forward to match the movements of Remus’ orgasm.

Wheezing slightly, Remus finally pulled out of her slowly, Y/N whimpering slightly as her pussy clenched around nothing. He threw the used condom and collapsed onto his back, chest still heaving. Y/N followed suit beside him, onto her stomach, body limp. The afterwaves of her orgasm still sent pleasure through her body and she knew she’d feel too sore to even straighten her legs.

“My love.” Remus turned on his side.

“I can’t fucking move.” Y/N chuckled, voice muffled by the pillow.

Remus hummed, eyes raking over her used body and sat up, massaging over her shoulders then down her back. His hands reached her hips, where he caressed extra soothingly and slowly closed them together. He bent forward, planting a kiss on Y/N’s cheek. She giggled as his locks of hair tickled her eyelid.

Languidly turning over, Y/N sighed in content.

Remus reached his hand, and pulled a strand of her hair out of her face, tucking it behind his ear. He felt warmth lower, as his body began to awaken for another round.

“We’re not getting much sleep tonight, huh?” Y/N giggled peering down at her husband.

It was a blessing that the Castle automatically out a Silencing charm on teachers’ living quarters, because anyone neighbouring them would have stayed up, hearing sinful, wet slapping sounds of skin all night.

part 6  and part 7 OUT NOW!!

tags @bicyhot1  @pink-hufflepuff  @legitlaughingflamingo @brod16  @gerardonmyway  @blueleonor  @suranne-doesstuff  @rxmusblxck  @spxllcxstxr  @littleemo477  @just12randomfandoms  @svnkissdd  @norrreee  @m4r13l3y  @jess6578  @rorysreallyrandom  @the-nightingale-not-the-lark  @archeve19  @wolfstarslovechild  @pan-pride-12  @x4kai4x  @chrrybmb-mp3  @reggieluna  @happyslittlekitten  @missemilygilmore  @all-things-fictional @strangefirething  @abitofeverythinggg  @yeahshewayout  @imfreeeeeee123  @harold-pothead  @lunnybunny12  @ellieblack11  @tugabooos  @joyfulbiscuit  @justonemorechapter07 @wonderwoman292  @skateb0red  @secretsthathauntus  @siriusblackswhoree  @sabonbonn  @untraveled-road  @annabeljareau  @valiantobservationkitty @diffbeanofbrand  @theeicedamericano​  @spencerreidlove  @flannellover67  @wishiwasdeadric  @becks7401​  @katsav17  @emmy-kitty13  @purritoqueen  @girl22334  @monicafebyana​  @talsiaa​  @sierrax023​  @axva03  @uhh-dk  @nataliahgrace​  

[dancingazaleas]

floch forster | look at you (smut)

yeah i’m a floch simp... i don’t want to talk about it..

anyways enjoy brat tamer!floch or whatever he is in this because i’m on brainrot

edit: i’m sorry if this is bad, when i finished most of it i just wanted it to be over

warnings/notes: smut, cursing, brat tamer!floch, fem!reader, edging, overstimulation, spanking, clit spanking, choking, degradation, praise(if u squint), rough sex, aftercare(cus i love floch), porn without plot, face smacking, squirting, dumbification and spit kink.

ever since you’d woken up that morning, you were in a bad mood. whenever floch would try to hold you while watching a movie, you’d shove his arms away and he would only get to hold you if you forced his arms around you. you had barely spoken to him and whenever he said ‘i love you’ you just hummed in acknowledgment.

so, he decided to take you out to a club, begrudgingly, and invited mikasa, sasha, jean, and niccolo to come along. he assumes connie is tagging along since thing one and thing two never separate.

whenever you hung out with sasha, mikasa, and connie, your spirits seemed to lift. while he was happy, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done something wrong. he tried not to thinking about it too much as he talked with jean and niccolo sparingly.

he decided he’d let it slide, considering you were upset all day. but whenever he saw you speaking to a random man with a flirty look on your face, he decided that enough was enough.

which led you to now, hands pinned down behind your back as floch pulled your dress up over your ass and panties down and off your body.

“i’ve been nice all fuckin’ day, even when you were being a little bitch,” he growls as you try to kick him away while snickering, “and you decide to repay me by acting like a little whore. you better count without complaining and you might just get to cum tonight.”

you stuck your tongue out and turned to face floch, kicking your feet back and forth.

“who says i’m gonna let you,” you taunt and yelp at floch’s hand tangling with your hair and shoving your face into the mattress.

“me. i say. unless it’s not to count, an apology, or the safe-word, you don’t fucking speak,” he lets the hand on your head up.

he waits to see if you respond, but the only one he gets is a pout accompanied by a sharp glare. he keeps eye contact as he gives a harsh slap to your rear.

it has your hips jerking towards floch’s thighs and a sweet yelp falling out of your mouth as you croak out the number ‘one’.

by the time he’s at ten, you’re already tearing up and whining for him to stop. your whines have him spanking you harder than before, telling you that it isn’t the safe-word.

he doesn’t stop his spanking until he’s at the number 17, admiring the pretty crimson starting to form on your asscheek in the shape of a hand print. he lets go of the hands being held behind your back, using it to gently rub over your cheeks.

“crawl up and lay on your back,” he’s gently patting your thigh.

you don’t move, focused on wiping away the tears pouring out of your eyes.

you shake your head, sitting up and facing him on his lap, “don’t wanna, it’ll hurt my ass.”

“you should’ve thought about that before you were a slut,” floch grabs your neck with his right hand and your left thigh with his left hand.

he makes it seem easy whenever he lifts you up and throws you onto the bed. you whine as you watch floch unbutton his black shirt, trying to ignore the slight pain on your ass. he shimmies off of his jeans while you shimmy off your scrunched up dress.

floch straddles your hips, hand grabbing ahold of your neck and putting a small amount of pressure on it. you grab onto his wrist and he hisses as your nails dig into his skin.

“you wanna apologize,” he raises an eyebrow at your smug face.

you open your mouth, trying to catch some of your breath before you speak.

“no,” you give a breathy laugh and flutter your eyes to try and get rid of the tears.

whenever floch removes his hand, it gives you a chance to breathe—even if it’s pointless. because before you know it, floch’s hand slaps at your cheek and it has your head turning to the side. he grabs your jaw with the same hand and jerks your face back to look at him again.

“you sure?”

“yeah,” you’re smirking and manage to spit at him.

he flinches when it hits his nose and the sight makes you snicker, especially whenever he struggles to wipe it away with the back of his hand. but when he does get rid of it, you feel yourself getting the shivers at the neutral expression on his usually sneering face. floch isn’t exactly known for being understanding.

he squeezes your jaw harder, “open your mouth, right now.”

reluctantly, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue, continuing to dig your nails into his wrist anxiously. he gathers his spit towards the inside of his lips and then spits into your mouth harshly. you whine at the feeling of it running down your tongue.

“close,” you keep your mouth open and tongue out.

“you want more,” he laughs, “you’re a dirty whore, wanting me to spit in your mouth like that.”

he spits in your mouth again, but this time it’s slower and—somehow—more seductive. you close your mouth and swallow, suddenly silent compared to before.

“you still don’t want to apologize”, he asks condescendingly and moves his hand away from your jaw.

you’re starting to feel yourself slipping in that small little headspace from all the harsh smacking and you know you won’t get what it is that you want if you keep up your bratty act. it’s going to be a miracle if he even gives you his cock.

“‘m sorry,” you mumble and try to rub your thighs together, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“say it louder, don’t mumble your words.”

“i’m sorry floch.”

“you mean that?” lips starting to bite and suck at your neck.

“i do! i do,” you whine, now clawing at his biceps and shoulders when his lips trail down to your tits.

he’s groping at one tit and biting at the other, twisting your perky nipple between his nimble fingers. when he pulls away, he admires the teeth marks he’s made around your areola. and he reeks of arrogance when you whine even louder whenever he licks a stripe back over said marks. but then he leans up to give you a, surprisingly, sweet kiss on your lips that has you humming in satisfaction. you pout at him with a small huff as he pulls away. he scoffs and forces himself in between your rubbing thighs.

“look at you,” he’s laughing again as he holds open your bare folds with his fingers, “you’re soaking, you fuckin’ slut.”

you’re shaking your head at him while he lowers himself to your glistening pussy. as soon as he rubs his tongue across your clit, your fingers are grabbing at the sheets.

he slowly inserts a finger inside of you, opposite arm reaching across your hips to hold them down. your moans raise an octave when he adds a second finger with his first, curling his fingers swiftly.

“gonna... ‘m gonna cum,” you cry while your toes curl and arch your back.

and with that, floch pulls away from your pussy and laughs at your body flopping against the bed while you cry.

“you thought you were gonna get to come so easily? after flirting with some sleazy guy at the club? must’ve slapped you stupid earlier,” his hands rub at your thighs, watching your chest rise up and down.

before you can reply, he’s burying his face back in your pussy again; eating you out as if you were his last meal on death row. his fingers are inside of you again, thrusting in and out of you vigorously. your hips are bucking against the arm holding them down and your fingers are clawing at your sheets.

“pl—please,” you managed to moan out, “gonna cum!”

floch moves his fingers faster and you feel him smirk against your clit. your moans are getting higher and shorter as you start to tip over edge of euphoria. but before you can, floch’s pulling away and chuckling at how your legs start to shake and your whimpers. you moan out whenever floch smacks your clit with the tips of his fingers.

“you’re so dumb,” he scoffs, “you actually think you’re gonna get to cum after the way you’ve acted all day?”

you’re sobbing and whining at this point, now tugging at his hair. he slaps your hands away, going back to torturing your puffy clit with his tongue. you’re legs are trembling whenever he pulls away again.

“please... wanna.. come please,” your lip quivers when floch comes back up to your face.

“ ‘wan, wanna com,” floch mocks your face and voice.

it makes you sniffle and reach up to wrap your arms around his neck. he kisses you.

“god, look at you,” floch groans against your lips, “begging like an obedient whore just to come around my fingers. you’re stupid if you think i’m gonna let you come around anything that isn’t my cock.”

he coos condescendingly, “you want that, needy girl?”

you nod frantically and squeeze your eyes close, tears going to run down your cheeks. floch pulls away and takes off the grey boxer briefs he’s got on. the tip of his cock is an angry red and dripping with precum.

he pumps his cock twice with his right hand before gripping it at the shaft and aligning it at your entrance. he slowly pushes it into you, snorting at your needy moans. he throws his head back with a groan as he bottoms out, and grips at the back of your thighs and pushing the front of them to your torso.

“floch! floch!” you sound like a broken record as you keen his name.

“you gonna come? just from me shoving my cock in you,” he patronizes, “haven’t even moved yet, and you’re already about to cream on my cock.”

he pulls out halfway and quickly thrusts back in and he can’t help but laugh for the umpteenth time at you throwing your head back while you flutter around him. he lets you put your legs around his waist and reaches up to put his hand on your neck and the other one holding up his weight by your head.

you’re crying out his name again when he starts thrusting in and out of you and applies pressure to your windpipe. it, quite literally, leaves you breathless and letting out broken moans.

he squeezes a little tighter for a bit, “do not fucking come.”

you plead and grab at his wrist, trying to ignore how floch’s cock drags against the sweet spongy spot inside of you, how his tip prods at your cervix, and how his hand squeezes against your throat. it leads you towards your orgasm; lower body convulsing against the mattress while your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open in a silent scream.

floch scoffs and takes his hand off of your neck, stilling his hips.

he smacks you, barking at you, “i thought i told you not to come.”

“ ‘m sorry,” you babble, “felt too good..! ‘m sorry.”

he smacks your face again, “it only felt good for you. you’re gonna lay here and let me use you until i come, understand?”

you shake your head whenever he starts thrusting into you again, “sensitive!”

he doesn’t stop thrusting even when he slaps you across the face again, “you’re the one who came without permission, you deal with the consequences. it’s what you get for being a whore anyways.”

with that, you’re coming again within a matter of minutes, mind completely blanking out from all the edging and sudden overstimulation. your eyes glaze over just as floch puts his hand against your neck once again.

floch starts rubbing a thumb on your clit with his other hand, slowly starting to near his orgasm. it has you squirting on his cock with a high pitched moan. he groans and throws his head back at your pussy gripping him like a vise.

“coming inside,” he warns and you just nod and squeeze him absentmindedly.

he comes, groans falling from his lips when his thrusting slows down to grinding while he rides out his orgasm.

he takes a moment to catch his breath, finally pulling his half hard cock out of you. his cups your cheek, gently facing you towards his face.

“you okay? you with me,” he asks softly and rubs his thumb on your cheekbone.

you respond with incoherent mumbles and fluttering eyes. he places a kiss on your cheek and scurries off into your shared bathroom. you hear the water turn on and the opening and closing of different cabinets. floch’s walking towards you with a warm, wet rag in his hand. he wipes away the cum that’s starting to drip out of you and onto the bedsheets, and the temperature sends shivers running down your spine.

he throws the rag into your bathroom—that had its door open—and gently picks you up bridal style. he carries you into the bathroom and carefully puts you into the running water. the pressure on your burn as you whining, especially whenever he slips in behind you.

“you with me now,” he pecks and massages your shoulders.

you hum in response as he lathers soap up in his hands. he washes you silently and cautiously, not wanting to inflict anymore pain unto you.

whenever he’s done washing you, he helps you stand on your wobbly feet. he dries off your hair and for some reason it has you smiling stupidly while ogling him. he gives a little smile when he catches your staring, covering your face in sweet little kisses. you start giggling and pucker your lips in a request of a kiss.

he kisses you continuously, hands gently holding your cheeks after he wraps the towel around your shoulders.

“look at you,” he gives you a kiss and it makes you feel light on your feet, “my beautiful girl.”

[mammor0n]

human | solomon x reader

based on lesson 46-12, so spoilers if you’re not up to it. if you know u know 😉 MC is gender neutral ✌

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: softcore smut, not rly explicit and it doesn’t rly start till abt 1k words in but it’s still there. also like one swear word. plus it’s nearly 2am so if there are typos etc. pls forgive me, i’ll give it a read through when i wake up to fix ‘em (probably)

____________________

You awake to a shuffling sound in the corner, and a year of living with seven demons has left you with more sense than to just ignore it. Still half asleep, you squint into the darkness and sigh an incoherent mumble.

“...oh, sorry. Did I wake you?” Solomon asks, voice barely above a whisper.

It takes you a moment to remember where you are; in a cramped motel room in a world that doesn’t really exist, undertaking a trial for your goddamn magic license, which somehow did exist, and the master to your apprenticeship waking you up as though this circumstance wasn’t the stuff of a fever dream already, or some twisted fairytale that slipped the works of Hans Christian Anderson.

“Mm… it’s fine. What’s up? Can’t sleep?” you sleepily slur.

“No… it’s weird, you know? After all that walking we did today, I should be really tired.” Although his voice is even, Solomon’s face echoes a vestige of sadness; loneliness only exacerbated as he continues. “As I watched the twins earlier, I couldn’t help thinking… they’ve always had each other. It’s just natural for them. And even though they don’t say it outright, you can tell how much they trust and rely on each other… it must be nice, you know? To have someone like that in your life. I guess even if you live for centuries on end, there are some things that can always elude you.”

Blinking away remnants of sleep, you push onto your knees and crawl a little closer to him. He sits on the edge of the bed, and you hear it creak as it dips beneath him, the motion pulling you towards him like gravity itself.

“Hey… you have me. You always will, okay? You’re not alone… you have people who care about you,” you protest, and Solomon chuckles.

“Thanks, MC… you really are nice. I’d like to have people I care about, and who care about me… especially if one of those people is you.”

You exchange a smile lit only by the dim streetlight spilling through the weathered, yellowing windows. Solomon’s eyes don’t leave you, and there’s a softness there you’re not accustomed to.

“Hmm… you know, going to sleep in an inn room and then suddenly waking up in the middle of the night is another staple RPG scenario, isn’t it? And usually at times like these, you can expect some sort of really important story event to take place. So what do you think, MC? Is that what’s about to happen here..?”

His eyes find yours, capturing you in a warm a gaze you wouldn’t dare to break; you become all too aware of the sound of your shallow breathing, and rise and fall of your chest, the lump of your thrumming heart in your throat. The air smells like dust and ash, with remnants of smoke from the fireplace curling around the ceiling as the tendrils creep into the cracks between the wood. Your eyelids are heavy, yet sleep has surely relinquished its hold on you. 

Solomon is quiet as he looks at you questioningly; murky blue eyes seem to bore into your soul, and in this light, with his hair messy and wearing a loose shirt and cotton pants, you’re jarred by the reminder of his humanity. Now that the magic and jewellery and smirk has been stripped away, you’re left with warmth, sincerity, and something so purely human that you’d never seen in him before. It was something about his eyes, or maybe the bob of his Adam’s apple, the hints of five o’clock shadow carving his jaw, the slight flush blotching his cheeks. At this moment, he isn’t a powerful sorcerer to whom Asmodeus himself is beholden; he’s a person. A human. Two humans sitting together in an inn room with lights off, tangled in scratchy bedsheets as breeze rattles the windowsill overlooking the flame-lit cobbled streets outside. Like something out of a fairy tale.

You’re so lost in his eyes that you forget to speak, and a teasing smile slopes his lips, although the corners of his eyes are just a little too tight, his breath just a little uneven. He swallows, licks his lips…

“Does that look in your eyes mean I can kiss you?”

You reply by crossing the small distance left between you and kissing him. After a stuttered breath, Solomon kisses you back, leaning into you and deepening the kiss as his arms slide around your waist. Once he’s started kissing you, it seems he can’t stop; he presses kiss after kiss to your mouth, his tongue seeking yours, his hands squeezing and tugging you ever closer as you lose yourself in his warmth, the lavender and patchouli fragrance that always seems to follow him, in the eager grasping of his hands on your skin and of your fingers in his hair and of the taste of sleep and evening and to draw it all together, the smoky spark of magic in every touch of his body against yours.

“...I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Solomon confesses breathlessly between kisses. “But you know, wherever you are, Lucifer and his brothers are sure to be nearby. I thought maybe there was no hope. That I’d never get an opportunity.” 

In his pause, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Well it’s just you and I tonight, right? Just us.” Your breath rustles the silken hair that isn’t snagged between your fingers, and Solomon smiles.

“Then… I take it this means I have a chance, right? A chance to… deepen our connection.” He supplements the words with a lingering kiss to your throat. “Why don’t you come just a little closer, MC..?”

You sigh, lips seeking his again as you crawl until you’re chest to chest. Slinging a leg over his waist, you climb into his lap and Solomon wastes no time in stealing your breath. His lips are hot, fast, sloppy yet calculated, and he holds you until your head is spinning and you can’t remember your own name.

“Solomon…” is the only utterance you can fathom, and then he smiles against your mouth, and you lose even that.

Wandering hands trail along your waist, beneath your shirt, and shivers ripple down your spine as Solomon suckles at your throat and twists his hands in heavenly ways that curl your toes and pry any thought from your head that doesn’t centre around Solomon, and you, and Solomon and you, two humans alone in an inn room and suddenly your clothes are gone and he’s on top of you and-

Solomon groans as he sinks into you, kissing along the column of your neck, suckling on your jaw, your chest, hands caressing every inch of soft flesh as he whispers curses in languages you’ve never heard into your skin. 

You can feel the magic radiating off him as he thrusts, feel your power imbued with his, the fusing of your auras as his lips meld to your skin, over and over, hot and wet and electric and then-

“Fuck, Solomon,” you hiss, head thrown back against the feather-stuffed pillows as his moans are lost in the temple of your body while his hips bruise against yours.

“Mm… you feel so good, my perfect apprentice… my… my beautiful MC…” His words come in sharp gasps out of time with his urgent motions, and you feel him collapse against you as his hips stutter and his seed starts to drip from between your legs, hot and slick as it spills onto the bedsheets. The intrusion has the tightening in your abdomen finally erupting into the shaking of your legs, into shivers of pleasure that race up your skin and draw sharp gasps from lips that Solomon stifles with a hard kiss.

“Solomon…” you manage to breathe as he removes himself from you, lays beside you with a heaving chest and sparkling eyes mirrored in your own.

“Sleep, MC… you did so well… more work tomorrow…” he manages to sigh, his arms closing around your back and dragging you into his chest as he kisses you again, and presses a final kiss to your forehead.

Relaxing into his chest, you nod, humming as forgotten tendrils of sleep begin to slink between your thoughts and numb your tongue.

“‘Kay… night, Solomon…”

You feel him smile against your forehead, and if this is a fairytale, you hope you never reach the last page.

___________________

heyo, thanks for reading! if u enjoyed and u have a spare moment pls comment and reblog, it really makes my day!!! love u hope u have a good day/night 🥺👉👈

[hongism]

volume up - p. seonghwa 18+

day 7: public sex - park seonghwa warning: explicit smut, unprotected sex, public sex, dirty talk, exhibitionisn, creampie, sex in a karaoke room, daddy kink, breeding/impregnation kink, if u squint corruption kink wc: 1.8k genre: pwp, smut, 18+

​​​

If you had to pick one thing about Seonghwa that you love the most, it would be an easy answer. His voice. Everything about him is near perfect in your mind, but his voice has always stood out to you more than anything else. Not in a sappy, ‘I’m only saying this because we’re together’ sort of way. Rather, in the way where you could sit at the back of a karaoke room and listen to him sing for hours on end. That’s exactly what you are doing right now in fact — well, that’s what you were doing approximately ten minutes ago. Now, Seonghwa has you pressed to the back of the couch you’re sitting on, lips teasing the shell of your ear. You’re too lost in the heat of pleasure and arousal to think about how the hell you got in this position. When you’re more coherent though, you’re certain it will all boil down to the fact that Seonghwa was being a bit too sultry in his rendition of Taemin’s Move.

For now, you are more than happy to settle on the fact that Seonghwa’s lips are moving down the length of your neck and coming to a halt near the start of your collarbone. He nips at the skin, not hard enough to make you bleed, but just enough pressure to cause your nerves to light up with the sensation. You shift your hands to rest against his waist and try to twist his body. You don’t have enough strength to do so, however, so instead, you have to pull Seonghwa’s head back with your hand.

“Let me ride you,” you demand, whispering the heated words to his lips. Seonghwa clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Music still plays in the background, not loud enough to drown out your words, but loud enough for the bass to thrum in your veins.

“That’s rather bold seeing as we’re still in public,” he murmurs in response, but he doesn’t pull away from you. A breath of hesitation follows, then his warm breath cascades over your face once more. “Unless that’s why you want to do it.”

You don’t offer a strict yes or no confirmation, instead balling the material of his shirt in your fists and twisting until he now has his back against the booth. You throw a leg over his thighs and straddle him in an instant. You’re almost certain that you can feel your own arousal radiating off you in waves, but the look in Seonghwa’s eyes shows you that you aren’t alone in the feeling. He braces his hands on your hips.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he hums before tugging at the zipper of your shorts. You sit up for him, letting his hands do all the work and maneuver you however he needs to in order to toss the clothing off to the side. He doesn’t reach for your underwear though – a pretty lace pair that you know he loves – and you’re about to question him about it when he catches your curiosity. “We’ll keep those on just in case someone walks in. Can’t give them the privilege of seeing my princess fully undressed, no?”

My princess. The words cause the knot of arousal to tighten further, and you waste no time in reaching for his zipper as well. His erection strains behind it, throbbing already even though you’ve barely done anything more than a bit of kissing and grinding. Seonghwa rushes to help you and pulls his pants down just enough to let his cock loose.

“Can’t wait to have your cock inside me,” you whine as you grip the base of his leaking member. Dragging your hand up, you trace over his slit with your index finger and collect a bit of the precum there. A giggle falls from your lips when you bring that same finger to your tongue, arching a brow at Seonghwa while he watches on in a state of stunned silence. It takes several seconds, but he recovers and squeezes hard at your waist.

“You’re too much of a tease, baby girl. Just want me to ruin you anywhere and everywhere, huh?” He growls before pulling you flush against his chest. His tongue flicks over the junction of your neck and shoulder, teasing the skin there a few times before he latches on with his teeth. Your following moan is far too loud for safety, and you can only hope that the music is loud enough to drown it out. Instinctively, you clench your fingers around Seonghwa’s cock. The action elicits a moan from him as well, though he does a much better job at keeping the sound relatively contained.

“Fuck me, Hwa. I’m tired of waiting.”

“I should teach you a lesson in patience instead.” Seonghwa tsks but brings a hand down to shove your underwear to the side. There’s already a damp spot on your underwear from where some of your juices have leaked out, and Seonghwa inhales sharply as his fingers run over that wetness. “So wet already? Shame on you, princess. Not so innocent and pure after all, is it?” The words have you squirming in his lap; all the power and control you exuded earlier has gone out the window. It takes a split second for Seonghwa to gain control, and less than that for him to make you a writhing mess with only his words. “Hm, it seems like that’s it. The idea of having my dick in you makes you such a needy cockslut. How precious.”

“Pl-Please…” you trail off, unable to finish the thought without embarrassment overtaking your senses. Seonghwa pulls away from your neck to look you in the eye, but you can’t match his intense gaze. It’s Seonghwa’s turn to arch a brow, and a smirk stretches his lips a little wider.

“What is it, baby girl? What do you need me to do?” Your hand falls away from his cock and settles on his hip, chest rising and falling unevenly as you dare to look him in the eye.

“I need you to fuck me, Daddy,” you whisper. Seonghwa’s pupils expand a bit at your words, and his Adam’s Apple bobs a bit as he swallows around nothing. “Fill me up and fuck me until I’m full of your cum. Wanna feel you in me for days. Breed me like the bitch I am.” Seonghwa grips you tighter until you can feel his cock twitching against your stomach.

“Fuck, in public of all places,” Seonghwa hisses. He fumbles to lift your hips and settle his member between your legs, tip teasing your entrance with the lightest pressure. Despite his fervent movements, he penetrates you slowly and stretches you open inch by inch unit he’s fully settled in your tight walls. “You’re so tight, shit.” You wiggle a little on his lap, trying to get more comfortable but it only causes more strain to his weeping cock. “H-Hold on, princess, hold on. Don’t move yet, don’t move.”

“I’m ready for you to fuck me,” you protest. You throw a small pout out to accentuate your words in the hopes that Seonghwa will fall for your pleading eyes. It works like a charm because a moment later, Seonghwa rolls his hips against yours. His length presses deeper in you but it’s not enough for either of you. You lift your hips to meet his thrusts, shifting your weight onto your knees so that he can fuck up into you with more force and ease. The new angle has you seeing stars, and just bracing yourself on his shoulders isn’t enough to keep you upright. You drop your head to Seonghwa’s shoulder, moaning into the skin rather than the open air.

“You’re so desperate for Daddy’s cock that you’ll take it anywhere,” Seonghwa groans, words caressing your hairline.

“I-I’m a good s-slut for you, Daddy.”

“Yes, baby girl, such a good slut taking my dick so well.” You drop your hips back onto his cock and try to match the brutal pace he’s started. Seonghwa guides you through the thrusts. The lewd sound of skin slapping skin fills the air, even though the two of you try to keep the volume of your moans to a minimum, you can’t conceal the sound of your fucking. Seonghwa drops a hand to the couch and fumbles around for a few moments without losing his pace for a second. Taemin’s vocals increase in volume, pulsing louder in your ears, and you’ve lost track of how many times the sound has played on repeat in the background.

Your body remains alight with pleasure, walls clenching hard around Seonghwa as he continues to ram against your sweet spot time and time again. For a moment, you forget where you are and lose yourself completely in the addicting feeling of Seonghwa’s cock gliding in and out of your hole. You wish you could say something other than ‘yes’ but that seems to be the only word in your vocabulary in the heat of the moment. Seonghwa only makes your sanity devolve further into nothingness as he continues to whisper pure filth into your ear.

“You’re such a whore for my cum. Just want me to breed you like a bitch in heat.” That alone is nearly enough to bring you over the edge, but you cling to him a little tighter and attempt to stave off the orgasm as long as you can.

“Fu-uck me full of your cum, Daddy. I want my – ah, m-my tummy to swell with your cum,” you babble. Seonghwa takes control of your hips, and you’re grateful for it because you can’t keep the pace up any longer thanks to your aching muscles.

“Cum for me first, princess.”

It’s all the permission you need to let go, and your lips fall open in a silent scream as you reach your high. Seonghwa fucks you through it, pace slowing down considerably as not to overwhelm you, but you can tell that he’s about ready to burst at the seams himself. It doesn’t last much longer than that, and Seonghwa pulls you all the way down before spilling his hot seed inside you. The sensation combined with your still-rolling orgasm has your vision blurring at the edges. That darkness lingers until your high passes, and when you finally come down, Seonghwa is there to greet you with a hasty kiss on the lips.

“You’d better hope you can keep all my cum in you until we get home,” he says, pulling back just enough to breathe the words.

“And if I don't?”

“I don’t think you’ll particularly enjoy not cumming for a week, will you?”

...

a/n: hi @beefyjoon​​ ily i hope u enjoy :3

link to kinktober masterlist

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unable to be tagged: @sailing-goddess-of-ateez @gingerale-addict

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

can u do the sfw alphabet for nigari pls??

Sure! Hope you enjoy! 💕

SFW Alphabet | Suguru Niragi

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character: Suguru Niragi

Genre: dark

Warnings: strong toxic relationship themes, obsessive themes, blood, threatening, manipulation, gaslighting, physical & emotional abuse, a couple of suggestive themes, mention of body checking, mention of killing sprees

Author’s Note: I know I’ve mentioned this before, but just a reminder that I prefer to write Niragi as his true character. I would prefer not to pretend that he’s secretly a good man, because he’s not. Please do not read if you find any of the warnings upsetting or triggering! I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable!

*this is based in the Borderlands

A - Affection

(How affectionate are they? How would they show affection?)

His love language is so hard to decide

I think he’s a mix of quality time and physical affection

There would be random times where he would just follow you around The Beach

He wouldn’t necessarily even talk to you, just trail you like a shadow

You would be well aware he’s there, he’s not that good at keeping quiet since he’s such a heavy-foot

But you never tell him that, and just give him the satisfaction of believing he’s being sneaky

He would give you random pecks on the cheek when walking past you in the halls

There has been times when you would be talking to someone and he would just run up and pick you up from behind and run off while laughing

B - Best Friend

(What would they be like as a best friend?)

He’d be the most annoying piece of shit

You’d never get alone time, he would always just pop out of the most random places just to annoy you

He wouldn’t want a best friend that couldn’t take his harsh jokes

Everyone at The Beach would be terrified of you two

You’re like the most dangerous duo, no one would want to be put with you two for a game, it’s a guaranteed lose

C - Cuddles

(Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He would have a weird obsession for cuddling you

Would NEVER do it in front of anyone else though

He’d demand your cuddles, like he would get angry if you refused

Sometimes would just randomly grab you from your friends and drag you to his room so he can lay his head on your lap

“Play with my hair,” “Niragi, I wasn’t finishe-” “Shut up and just do it.”

Would fall asleep just from you braiding his hair

Don’t move though, if he wakes up he’ll accuse you of trying to leave

D - Domestic

(Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He kind of pushed you into moving into his room with him

He said it’s better because it’s bigger due to his higher wristband number

Would start to believe that you’re kind of becoming more close from moving into his room

But, he’s so bad at maintenance

His job is security, so he doesn’t know how to work in a kitchen or let alone clean

You’d have to clean the room and wash the laundry yourself

Sometimes Niragi would feel a bit guilty and try and help, but would fail miserably and become too embarrassed to even keep assisting

E - Ending

(If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Brutally

No remorse whatsoever from this man

If he broke up with you, he would tell you in the meanest way possible, probably through public humiliation

If you broke up with him though, oh no hun

He’d at first just not let you break up with him and give you a warning

But if you didn’t listen to his warning, all hell would break loose

I’m talking about pouring buckets of blood through your windows, shooting bullet holes through your door with his rifle in the middle of the night, threatening to kill those close to you

You wouldn’t be able to take it, eventually just going back to him just to make him stop

{Here’s a short headcanon elaborating on this further}

F - Fiancé(e)

(How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Getting married in the Borderlands is impossible, but Niragi would always look towards the future with you

He would’ve dreamt about going back to the real world and finally being able to marry you

Sometimes he thinks maybe you could run away from The Beach with him and get married by yourselves

But yeah, he would be quick with moving forward and be committed completely to your relationship

G - Gentle

(How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

You already know what I’m going to say

He would never be gentle, it’s not in his personality at all

Physically, he wouldn’t be fragile with you

He’d rough you up a lot, grabbing your wrists or pulling you harshly by your shirt

But when you approach him about it, he would gaslight you into believing that you made him do it and that he has to control you to keep you safe

Emotionally, no

Doesn’t hold any regard for your feelings, says whatever the hell he wants to say

Don’t even think about opening your emotions to him, he would shut them down so quickly by belittling you

“Aww my wittle bunny feewing sad? Deal with it, I’m not a therapist.”

H - Hugs

(Do they like hugs? How often would they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Very sudden and tight hugs

Always gives you a jump scare by sprinting up behind you and throwing his arms around your waist

He would hug you as often as he could

He doesn’t care if you refuse his hugs when it’s just the two of you

But when you refuse in front of people, he gets embarrassed and makes a mental note to teach you a small lesson later

I can imagine him having quite warm skin, so sometimes you would push yourself into his arms if the breeze was making you cold

I - I Love You

(How fast do they say the L-word?)

Would say it as a joke, before you guys were even together

Probably to tease you, or take you by shock

Or maybe that was him being genuinely honest

In the relationship, he would say it when you’re mad at him, because he can’t take you seriously when you’re mad

“Niragi can you cut that out!?” “NOoooo I love you~”

J - Jealousy

(How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Ohhhh no, they can’t get any worse than this man

His jealousy would be out of control

You can’t even smile at anyone else in his presence

If you did, he would grab your jaw and make you look at him again

One time a new member of The Beach thought that they could try and kiss you, not knowing that you were the infamous Niragi’s S/O

Let’s just say that no one saw them after that incident

He also once backed a man against a wall with his sniper rifle to his head for staring at your ass for a bit too long

Don’t make this man jealous, it never ends well

K - Kisses

(What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He would use so much tongue it would be suffocating

And he would hold your head in his hands roughly so you couldn’t pull away

When it’s just you two by yourself, there wouldn’t be a moment where his lips were off you

Is obsessed with kissing your neck, could never get enough of it

Would absolutely love it if you kissed around his ears, like he would melt

When in out at the pool or in the lobby with everyone else, he would actually prefer to not kiss at all

He would feel weird if people stared, cause you were his and his only and he didn’t want other people looking at you

L - Little Ones

(How are they around children?)

He would hate kids

He wouldn’t carry a shred of love for them

Most kids would be terrified of him anyway

Kids (if there is any at The Beach) would approach him because they thought his piercings or gun was cool, but he would say some freaky shit that would scare them off

I mean most people would tell kids to stay away from him anyway

But he would have this weird love for watching you play and look after kids

He didn’t know what it was, but it always made him fall deeper in love to see you playing immature games just to keep the children happy and smiling

M - Morning

(How are mornings spent with them?)

You would always wake up before Niragi

Don’t try and leave the bed though because otherwise he would instantly wake and drag you back into his arms and hold you ten times tighter like a cage

Most mornings would be you laying in bed contemplating what to do for the day while waiting for Niragi to wake up

When he does eventually, he would instantly want cuddles and kisses

You don’t get a choice in it of course

Waking up would be a slow process, but you would get there eventually

N - Night

(How are nights spent with them?)

Niragi always works around The Beach until late, so he would probably tell you to go back to the room around 11pm

You would spend the time reading or sitting out on the balcony and watching the stars

Niragi would come back and walk out to the balcony to find you

He would wrap his hands around your waist and push his face into your neck, nipping at your skin

“Are you coming to sleep or what?”

O - Open

(When would they start revealing things about themselves?)

This man would have walls upon walls upon walls

He’s never opened up to someone before and he wasn’t going to start just because he had a partner

He spent years building his personality so he could protect himself from others, why would he suddenly tear it down?

He wouldn’t, the furthest you could ever probably get with him is during a screaming match between you two, he said something in the heat of the moment about his shitty childhood

You would freeze and not say anything as he storms out

But other than that, you were never getting anything out of him

P - Patience

(How easily angered are they?)

I actually don’t think he’d be that easily angered

You could do anything, scream at him, punch him, insult him but he would always keep that cocky smirk on his face

But if you were to publicly humiliate him, that would be another story

If you try to show dominance over him in front of his militant group or other members of The Beach, he wouldn’t hesitate to slap you in front of everyone

He always wanted to be conveyed as the top of the food chain at The Beach, so if you came anywhere near to damaging that reputation, he’d make sure you were put in your place

Q - Quizzes

(How much would they remember about you?)

Every little thing

He’d know you better than you know yourself

It would honestly become frustrating though, because he would know when you’re lying or when you’re hiding something just from your body language alone

I feel like he would ask the chefs who made food at The Beach to always make your favourite dish that reminded you of home

It would probably be the only actual human decency Niragi would show to you

R - Remember

(What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

His favourite memory of your relationship would be when you brought back a gift for him after your game

You walked past a cute trinket shop on the way back and saw a small glass raven in the window

You thought Niragi would like it because one of his favourite animals is a raven

He would be over the moon excited, but would try to play it off like it’s nothing

He’d keep it on his bedside table and clean it everyday so it stays shiny

S - Security

(How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’d never let you out of his sight

He’s incredibly controlling, so he wouldn’t let you have a say in most things

He would always have you by his side, arm around your should tucking you into his chest

No one would even approach you when you’re with him because they’d be too scared he’d get the wrong idea

One time he threw someone over the bar counter and into the glass alcohol bottles because they thought they could try and lure you into their room

He’d be very much over dramatic, almost killing anyone who tried to hurt or flirt with you

At games, he would not let go of your hand

He wouldn’t let you do anything, he would drag you around and kill anyone he sees

Being with him would be a guaranteed win every time, but he sure would make you feel awful about it

T - Try

(How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He wouldn’t put that much effort at all I think

He’d see all that petty romance stuff as insignificant and a bit stupid

Wouldn’t bother remembering anniversaries, I mean there wouldn’t be much of a point while being stuck in the Borderlands

He has the mindset that you should devote yourself to one another without the need of gifts or dates

The closest you would ever come to getting a date with him is those nights you would spend together on the roof to look at the stars

But even then he would complain about it, because you would have to end up dragging him up there yourself since he doesn’t let you go anywhere without him

U - Ugly

(What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

You already know

Too many to count

He’s violent, he’s aggressive, he’s overprotective, he’s obsessive, he’s abusive, he’s unforgiving, he’s stubborn, he’s unempathetic, he’s psychotic

The list could go on forever

It would always make you question why you ever got involved with him in the first place, even if he didn’t give you much of a choice

Probably the only good thing you would get from him is constant attention and guaranteed protection from anything that could potentially harm you

Being with the scariest man on The Beach would have few pros, but they would still be useful at times

V - Vanity

(How concerned are they with their looks?)

I actually think he’s really concerned about his physical appearance

He probably pierced his own eyebrow, nose and tongue while he was in the Borderlands to appear more threatening

In the mornings, he would take forever to get ready

Probably does body checks in random reflections throughout the day

Yeah idk, I just think based off his personality, he would try so hard to come across as intimidating to keep his insecurities away

Sometimes he would tell you to tell him your favourite things about him just to reassure himself

He wouldn’t even care if you were lying, just hearing it would make him feel somewhat less insecure

W - Whole

(Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He would go clinically insane if he lost you somehow

He’s obsessed with you, why wouldn’t he?

If you didn’t return from a game or if you randomly disappeared, a few people were definitely become a victim of his rage

Would go on a killing spree, blinded by his anger and sadness

Would probably regret it and just sob loudly in your shared room for a bit, hugging your clothes to his chest

He would go searching for you everyday, wouldn’t even keep track of his visa

He had to find you, otherwise he would lose himself further than he already had

X - Xtra

(A random headcanon for them)

I feel like you would be the only person who would be allowed to touch his sniper rifle (I hope that’s what his gun’s called)

I mean obviously not to use against him, but he would give it to you if he ever had to be separate from you during a game for some reason

He would take you out to shooting practice, just aiming at crows or tree branches to help you get the hang of it

Sometimes the shot would be so forceful you would fly backwards onto your back

Niragi would always laugh hysterically at you when that happens

He would never let you use it at The Beach without his supervision though, he’d be so scared you would injure yourself

Y - Yuck

(What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He would hate a partner with a huge personality

Would very much prefer someone who was more quiet and timid, because they would be easier to control

And he just loves the thought of looking after and protecting someone, even though he’d be really bad at making you feel safe around him

He wouldn’t like someone who acted independent and didn’t need him

He’s insecure so he would need that reassurance that someone wants him

In general wise, I think he would hate sleeping

Somehow he just manages to run off 2 hours sleep everyday

He would get tired but he would just despise sleeping for some reason

It might be nightmares of insomnia, but he never really would bring it up so you wouldn’t ask

Z - Zzz

(What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

He has to be hugging something

He cannot sleep without having both arms and both legs wrapped around you

If you were being stubborn, he would just squeeze you tighter

You’d still be in the same position in the morning

Doesn’t care if you’re overheating, he if wants you close then he’ll make sure you are