#the downside is that SO MUCH of it was tangled messes

[its-raining-cats]

Ya boy is learning to embroider :3

[sweetimpurity]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ day 17!! need me a big man like Miguel right now wc: 753 *ೃ༄

It’s one of those nights you just can’t take anymore. And Miguel knows it too, but he just can’t bring himself to stop. He knows your body has had enough, he knows you’ve peaked more times than you can stand, but with the way you’re grabbing onto him, the way your voice trembles as you beg him not to stop, the way you keep sucking him back in… how could he ever end this? 

His back is already covered in scratches. If it weren’t for his healing factor, he’d be screwed and sore tomorrow. But sometimes he wishes the scrapes from your fingernails would last a little longer so he can wear them like a badge of honor. Your nails raking down his back with every pound into your pussy. Down his muscles and scratching red lines into his skin. Not that you mean to do it, you don’t want to hurt him, but it’s just the natural reaction. When you’re on the edge of coming, anticipating that perfect stroke that will send you over the edge. 

It’s both an upside and downside to loving a superhero. He’ll make you come a million times in one night but he’ll fuck you sore and breathless for hours because his stamina is unending. It’s almost like he’s on a mission and his DNA allows him to exert himself for much longer than a normal man. Another upside/downside is his size. Much bigger than a normal human man because his DNA is half radioactive spider superhuman. Your little pussy can barely handle a quickie or two. But for hours, he’ll have you worked out, stretched out, filled up and buzzing. 

Even with his genetic mutations, he is still very much human at heart. And he loves you a whole lot, would never dream of causing you pain. But when you’re gushing on him and pulling his hair, scratching his skin, begging and crying for more, he can’t say no. 

“Ah-s’too… too deep baby!” You sob, holding onto him, your fingers tangled in his dark curls and tugging. One big hand cradling your ass as he pounds into you and his other arm under your back. So only your head lies on the mattress, your body in his hold and angled just the way he needs to reach all your sweet spots, your shaking legs wrapped around his waist, he’s pushing deep and full. Stuffing you with him so his pelvic bone pushes up on your puffy aching clit. “Oh don’t stop… mmmmtoo much babe!!”

“Shhhhbaby I know- you’re so good just one more…” He smiles at your conflicting sentiments, face dipping down into your neck and panting against your skin. Tightening his hold around your hot trembling body and grinding into your heat like he’s searching for the warmth therein. 

“Ngh! Ngh ngh ngh! I c-can’t!” You whine, over and over, falling apart and your sounds are music to his ears. “Come on baby, come… you can take it… give it to me…” 

His deep voice sends chills down your spine, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades, drawing a hiss from between his fanged teeth. Feeling you clenching around his girth and squirting on him, making a mess. “Oh yes baby oh oh-” 

His cock sloshes through your cum, pumping you through your orgasm and extending it as long as he can. Growling low against your cheek, talons threaten to pierce the soft warm skin of your ass as he plunges deep, forcing your tensed walls open to accept him, all the way to the hilt as you milk him inside. His broad sweaty chest heaving against yours and holding you in a vice grip. Not wasting a drop, depositing it all deep inside for you. All yours. 

“Shit…” He sighs, rolling off of you and onto his back on the other side of the bed. His chest heaving. Dick twitching, his abdomen messy with your release. Draping his arms over his face and huffing heavy breath. Maybe tonight is the first occasion you’ve outdone him. “Dios-” He sighs when he can feel you climbing on top of him. You’re insatiable. Even when begging him to stop- begging him to keep going. 

“No más, conejita… no more…” He pants. Big warm hands going to hold your thighs straddling him. But you’re already working his tip back inside, slipping around through your slick, prodding your aching entrance. Bearing his teeth at the sensitivity he feels, the way his abdomen contracts with aftershocks. “One more, Mig… please…”

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp @reader-1290

@sp0ck136

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

[shinyshade8026]

Buzzes and Biscuits

Requested by: @skull-pup

S comes home from an exhausting day of work and wants to relax. They find V wanting to do the same.

Word count: 1900

It was just a day like any other for the disassembler. Tireless work for hours into the night left S trudging up the stairs with a tired expression set on their visor. There was a downside when it came to helping the workers rebuild the city and get things running. They weren’t the only disassembly drone working on this, of course, the others would help as well, and even a few strangers. The process was slow, but Copper-9, or at least the city around Outpost-3, was starting to look livable again, but it was taking up a lot of time and energy. It felt tense and sluggish when it got home, but they felt a bit more awake upon seeing their housemates and family. 

As S slowly made its way up the carpeted steps, it used its delicate sensors to pick up the sounds of the others in the house. Asmi and Cosmo were playing a game in the living room, while E and J were pressed together on one side of the couch, watching the young drones while having quiet conversations. S couldn't find the sound of one drone in particular, making their chassis prick uneasily. Where was V?

S finally made it up the flight of stairs and ended up on the second floor, casting a lazy glance down the hall. The faintest rattle of chains gave away the sound of L remaining where she was, making a devilish grin part the blonde drone’s lips. It turned its attention to its bedroom, already itching to lay in bed and just relax. Their clawed hand found the doorknob, their other rubbing their optics. They quietly turned the knob, thinking gleefully at the fact they didn’t have to go help with the city the next night.

As it twisted the knob and pushed open the door, S largely expected to see nothing but a dark room and their neatly made bed. Instead, they saw a familiar jacket and scarf plopped on the bed, and a certain silver-haired drone creating a lump in the bed as she buried her face into the pillows. It smiled softly, seeing V turn her head just enough so it could see one of her half-open optics staring into their mismatched ones. 

The shorter drone made a sleepy noise, which S assumed to be a greeting, and their partner returned her greeting with a small wave. They quietly walked to the bed, rubbing their eyes while V sat up, her silver hair in a slightly tangled mess. The blanket fell from its point on her back as she waved them towards her with a slowed motion. It chuckled, thinking her sleepiness was cute. V noted their chuckle, which made her huff and puff her cheeks in a fake pout, causing S to giggle more. They loved it when she was herself. Not the psychopathic or strong mask she put up. Herself. The sweeter, softer, and sometimes playful, worker drone from when they were younger. 

They knew she was only this way around them. It somehow made them feel… special... 

It crawled onto the bed, taking off its jacket and tossing it to sit by V’s. Once they had settled in a sitting position, V draped herself over their lap, stretching out like a big cat and giving them a sleepy smile. The modified drone felt their core flare up and their tail rattled happily while they lovingly ran a hand through her hair, eliciting a quiet purr from her.

They kept running their hand through her hair, gently shifting apart the small tangles until they could freely run their hand through her hair with no issues. While they did this, V’s purrs increased, her tail slowly swaying with pure contentment. S tilted their head to the side as they continued what they were doing, noticing how her tail went and coiled around its leg as she stretched even more.

“You’re sleepy,” it noted without much thought, gently smiling. The disassembly drone’s only response at first was a half nod followed by a yawn. 

Once her yawn finished, V spoke, “Mph… very sleepy, but I need to do something before I sleep or else I’ll forget to do it by the time I have to leave tomorrow,”

S twirled a strand of her hair in their fingers, their tail nudging hers to try and get it to move from their leg to their tail, “You think I’d be able to help, Vivi?”

The sprawled-out drone lightly batted away S’s hand and deployed one of her wings, the one furthest from S. They flexed their wing before glancing at their partner. “I need to sharpen the blades of my wings, I keep forgetting to do it while I have the time, so they’ve ended up getting a bit duller than I’d like,”

It nodded, reaching for the bedside table drawer to grab the whetstone they shared for their wings. V stretched out more, flexing her wing before pulling it in so S could start. Her eyes closed while her arms crossed under her head to make her comfortable. Before starting, S ran their hand through her hair again and leaned to place a kiss on the arm of her wing. The gesture made her jolt slightly and she whirled her head to them, the expression she was met with was a gentle and sweet smile, making her core burn and flutter. How in the hell did she get so lucky?

She settled back into her previous position as S gently ran the whetstone along the edge of her longest feather blade. The sound was quiet and constant, letting both drones tune it out and focus on the other sounds.

Like V’s very noticeable purring as she tried not to fall into the comfortable haze of sleep.

S chuckled, the buzzy sound feeling like music to their ears. Once they had finished that blade, it moved to the next, slowly sharpening the shiny, slightly scratched, metal blades. During the process, the canister end of V’s tail started to sway in a slow wagging motion as her entire body relaxed, making S smile even more as their tail began to do the same, with an added quiet buzzing noise.

The blonde drone worked efficiently, sharpening her wings thoroughly while moving quickly so the two could rest sooner, but not fast enough to make things uncomfortable for V.

Within a short while, S had finished V’s left wing and was nudging her to turn so they could sharpen the other one. She obliged, of course, sitting up on their lap to turn and lay the other way, but not before kissing them for a moment. The sudden action made the taller drone blush profusely, making the yellow-eyed one snicker before laying down again and deploying her other wing. 

S blinked a few times to snap back into reality while their blush settled to a few ticks on their cheeks. It started applying the whetstone to V’s other wing blades, humming a song quietly while it worked on them. 

They delicately traced one of their claws over some of the deeper scratches in her wings, a thin frown settling on their lips. They knew it was just from normal usage, but seeing V hurt in any way made its core ping with sadness. 

The sprawled-out drone notices its pause in working, tilting their head to see its face before gently taking its hand into theirs and kissing the softly glowing triangle on the back. S jolted from the action, the sweet touch bringing them out of their sad stupor. No words were shared between them, only a loving stare before S smiled and rubbed the side of her hand with their thumb, returning to running the whetstone along the edges of V’s wings to continue the sharpening process.

It went a bit slower for this wing, the blades dulled from usage on her dominant side. At this point, it seemed like the smaller of the two was asleep by now, but the readjustments and shifts every few minutes told S that she was still awake. By the time S had finished both of her wings, they wanted to fall backward and rest. To which they obliged.

V made a chirping noise as they did so, sitting up to give them a blank look before taking the whetstone from their hands, placing it onto the bedside table, and draping herself over their front. She momentarily snuggled her face into their neck, hearing their purring begin again from her affection. When she sat up again, she heard a small grumbled sound from them, which she rolled her eyes at with a smile while grabbing their brush. 

S watched as V lay down, holding the blanket to the side so they could come and snuggle her, an offer they quickly gave in to. The taller drone lays on top of her, their head near her core and their body coming up from between her legs. Once they had settled down, V tugged off their beanie to get at their hair, chewing on her lip from the tangles she knew her hand couldn’t work through. Well, that was why she grabbed the brush.

She started to run the brush through their pale blonde hair, careful not to hurt them as she brushed it out. They soon were reduced to a purring mess, their tail wagging underneath the covers. V held the side of its face in her palm, her thumb rubbing its cheek while she brushed out the tangles. She kept this up, getting every inch of their fluffy hair while reassuring the blue sections stayed together.

Drones, workers specifically, often commented that the disassembly drones behaved like cats, which V couldn’t exactly disagree, not when she acted cat-like during moments. Especially around S. Speaking of the drone, their optics had closed a couple of minutes into the brushing, and their hands had settled into a spot on her chest, fingers curled slightly toward their palms. 

V focused on their hair, keeping it fluffy and soft as she went through it. She assumed that S would fall asleep while she did this, so she locked in on her task, her own optics drooping as her sleepiness began to get at her due to being surrounded by comfort. S was strangely a good weighted blanket.

However, something snapped her out of focus, making her blink a few times in surprise and look down. What she saw provided a smile to her, and even a small chuckle. 

S was half awake, gently kneading ‘biscuits’ on her tank top. She could feel their clawed fingertips slightly graze her metal as they moved, but it didn’t bother her. She could hear its purring increase as they did this, encouraging V to continue purring as well, filling the space of their bed with the sound of buzzy purrs, a sweet sound to both of their audinals. 

V finished brushing their hair, half haphazardly tossing the brush somewhere else onto the bed before locking her fingers together on S’s back, holding them close as she fell into a sleep-induced state, S inching themself up her chest to get closer to her face. Their kneading slowed, and eventually stopped, as they soon fell asleep alongside her, a sleepy smile etched onto their face.

[calebwittebane]

but yeah man youll never see me recommend any big city or Known Touristy Place in poland LOL. sorry to those places. something you need to understand is that poland is a bit of a shit hole so anything considered Presentable and Famous will be crazy overhyped and crowded beyond imagination. and a lot of the time those places really are something that you could find an equivalent of in some other country except less bad and with less antisemitic graffiti on nearby buildings (something many tourist guides wont tell you about big polish towns but is a miserable reality because for some reason local soccer club fans here are basically neonazi militias). you must ask a wise wizard like myself for advice, or better yet, to guide you in person. a wise wizard who has experienced a lot of suffering and loneliness and fear living in this country, and therefore has learnt to observe and appreciate things as a transient being, always just passing through, to love and experience but not chain it down with that love. understand that things that are big, popular, fancy, renowned, exciting, arent always the best ones, areny the ones most worthy of experiencing. things that are unique and special often come with many downsides and inconveniences and "ugliness". some just seem so mundane. some of them, maybe i just find them special personally because of my limited perspective. but listen... during a train ride between częstochowa and warsaw youll look out the window and see vast fields, some still used as farmland and some not, but youll see that sometimes they give way to overgrown bushes and young forests and flood plains, and for some reason in many such areas most of the shrubs and bushes there grow to be almost perfectly spherical. dense blobs of dark green emerging from a tangled mess of tall grass at different levels of dried up. with an occasional shimmer of a small creek running there under that cover. or--youll take a train to ustka, a somewhat popular seaside town, and youll find yourself on a bizarrely large, mostly defunct railway yard, with many many tracks running into cracked concrete fences, ending in the harbor and "burrowing" into the pavement there, running between buildings and barriers, blocked by rusty pipelines. people dont pay much attention to this area but its so fascinating. and youll follow some of those tracks and see that they lead to the shipyard, the ugly rusty bent metal sheets shipyard, and then further into the harbor, above which looms a large smoke-stained decrepit concrete building that used to be a fish processing plant. both of these buildings have been the object of protests calling for their demolition, because they Spoil the pleasant tourist-friendly landscape, and they do in fact stick out like two sore thumbs, and indeed last time i was there two giant banners had been hung up on both, saying, "how long is this ugly thing going to remain here?". the rest of ustka is all lovely sandy beaches, cute walkways, quaint architecture, nice restaurants and town squares and parks, its all very quaint and lowkey, except for those two monstrosities, and i love it. i hope they never tear them down. you feel me?

[mareenavee]

WIP Whenever~

Happy middle-of-the-week, everyone! I hope the writing's been good. I finished two whole fics this week. (Small, but still good.) Started on another, while getting about idk 1/3 of the way through chapter 27. That's what I'm going to share today! But first, tagging the most esteemed: @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @thana-topsy, @thequeenofthewinter, @oblivions-dawn (I have to know what's next lol), @gilgamish, @tallmatcha, @rhiannon1199, @snippetsrus, @saltymaplesyrup and @archangelsunited -- If you aren't tagged, consider yourself tagged, and tag me back so I can see what you've got! Without further ado, here's a section of chaos from chapter 27 of The World on Our Shoulders.

Teldryn sat on the edge of Neloth’s bed, cradling a mug of canis root tea. His skin still stung from the constant prodding and scraping to check for any remnants of the blasted Stalhrim. He was still anxious, if he was being honest. It made it hard to stay asleep. Tel Mithryn was almost unnaturally quiet, except for the low hum of the Levitation Runes and the rapid flipping of pages. At the moment, Neloth was poring over a collection of tomes while everyone else was sleeping. It couldn’t be long before dawn now. The perfect hour, really, for negative thoughts to swirl around unmitigated. He sighed and sipped his tea.

To make things worse, Nyenna still hadn’t been able to maintain consciousness for long, despite all Neloth was doing to help her. He’d theorized something about swelling in her brain combined with a disruption of the flow of Magicka through her body. It was as if the rebounded Shout had somehow broken her mind in more ways than one. The implications of that alone had him thanking Azura he’d even survived the Shout he’d gotten caught up in during that first fight by her side. He’d already decided he’d never underestimate her again, but now… Was it a death wish to stand so close to such power? Did that matter, in the end? He looked down at Nyenna now, sleeping peacefully, hair a tangled mess against the pillow, stress gone from her brow. It didn’t matter, come to think of it. It wouldn’t be right to leave and let her figure this all out on her own. She was a risk, but one he’d probably stick by until time itself came unraveled, Gods willing. He stopped mid-sip at the realization. Best if he didn’t exactly say that aloud, all things considered.

Neloth sighed heavily at his desk and swore in Dunmeris, his tone more exasperated despite keeping relatively quiet. Teldryn wasn’t sure how much of a healer he really was; even though he’d done incredible work after the Red Year, his personality sort of conflicted with the basic tenants of Restoration magic. To his credit, he did at least seem rather concerned and had even set aside the Stalhrim to study Nyenna’s condition. He’d even forced Talvas, his assistant, to drop all his projects and papers to help. The boy was passed out on his own desk in the other part of the room, exhaustion of the last few days finally catching up to him. Varlais, too, had tried to help but ended up in more of a glorified servant’s role. He wasn’t really the thinking type, as Neloth had frustratingly come to find out. Teldryn had, of course, already known.

Teldryn did the best he could with his own Healing and Calm spells. He’d offered to go get Aphia from Raven Rock, but Neloth insisted he knew more than any other Mer in a thousand-mile radius. While that was likely true, there really was no downside to having an extra pair of hands. It was just as well…the debt he’d racked up with the grand soul gems wasted on Teleportation spells outshone his earnings from the last half-year at this point. He likely wouldn’t have to pay it back, except in insults and reminders of how heroic Neloth had acted. This would go on for the rest of existence, an inside joke turned into exhaustion in no time at all. But that was just how the old wizard had always been. And to be fair, he’d pay that cost again and again if it meant helping anyone after what they’d all been through, Nyenna especially so.

To Neloth’s other point, Nyenna’s Magicka was not loud now, not like it usually was. It hadn’t been for a few days, though whatever the affliction, it was at least healing. There was a huge difference from when he’d dragged her out of the Atronach’s lair. Then, it had been almost non-existent, barely registering at all.  She was so pale. She seemed so fragile. She’d been speaking in frantic Dovahzul, almost as if possessed. And her eyes… Gods, but… It was too difficult to recall that particular memory. He swallowed hard against the fresh wave of horror. He’d been terrified. He’d lived long enough now that few things were capable of even surprising him — but this whole situation had been almost too much. Not quite as bad as Red Mountain, despite the similar wrongness in the warp and weft of the place he’d felt, and the way their feet all had been moving of their own accord toward the danger. But it had been close. Living in the aftermath of that fight left him feeling somewhat hollow where fear had burned everything else away.

Unnerved, Teldryn sipped his tea and looked at her as she slept. It’d been a whole day since the last nightmare, so this peace was progress. As he’d done a hundred times in the last span of days, he reached out and brushed some of her curls out of her eyes. That power of hers was still there, like a shock under her skin, though dulled. He had hope, though, despite everything. Even in the void left behind by all the recent chaos, she gave him hope. He didn’t quite know how to tell her that without breaking unspoken rules.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

With how all over the place and messy his motivations seem to be, it almost would have made more sense to me for the primary motivation of his turn to be the simple fact that he's working in retail lol. Lord knows there were plenty of bad days where I was like "people are a mistake" and might have been willing to end the known universe if just one more thing went wrong or I had to deal with one more horrible, unreasonable customer. At least Hisui is largely empty, so there are way, way less people to deal with, but on the downside he doesn't get any fun battles like a modern trainer would, just a lot of commute time featuring deadly encounters. He's young too, like older teenager-early twenties and seems to have cooked up this whole mess quite a few years ago, which aren't anyone's most stable. HC from you of echo chamber of discontent with his evil togekiss + job he hates and no end in sight + the recklessness of youth = ripping holes in space and time to yell at god and demand they fix the world, makes sense to me.

But to your point, him having an actual, regular ass job is a nice change of pace! I can't think of any other big bad who has one... except maybe whatshisname from Kalos? Forget what he does but maybe ceo? Even Giovanni is a gym leader, which is like a special job. Not comparable to some dead-end retail job. Though I guess Volo and Giovanni do have a handshake meme of shirking their duties to do their real passion, so there is that.

wwkjhwjkh yeah honestly, lysander and (i think) lusamine and rose technically have Jobs, but even ceo is kind of a Special Job in the same way a gym leader is imo. there really are kind of no other villains who are just some guy normally i don't think. volo's entire Thing really is justifiable purely on the basis that he is like twenty (hell years) working retail (hell job) with an apocalypse plan he's been sitting on since he was fifteen (you are your absolute least rational at fifteen.) and sadly he somehow found out a real workable way to end and remake reality. when you think about it from that angle he really makes so much more sense as a character and person.

srsly though i know i've said this before but i think volo makes waaaay more sense as a character if you ignore the tangle that is his canon ranting and look at him as a very young and DEEPLY miserable person who is on so many levels not making stable decisions. he hates his job, hates his life, has a miserable life history, plus with the added confirmation that there's sort of a general air of gloom & doom around hisui atm that's like, the cultural/social situation he's been steeped in (even if he goes elsewhere as a guild member, he pretty clearly considers hisui His considering the whole fixation on arceus.) dude was Not set up for success. modern au where volo goes to therapy and gets a couple prescriptions and gets to live out his true purpose of being some fucking guy

[laeorinel]

FFXIV Write 2023 - Day 14 - Clear

Minor Endwalker spoilers. Sort of continuation of this piece Once bitten, twice shy

You don't need to have read the other piece but it adds a little bit of context I guess.

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

Thancred paced around the small inn room as Urianger tended to Samara, his jaw clenching and fingers digging into the leather of his coat every time he heard her cry out as the elezen tried to purge the remaining poison from her body. 

It was a wicked poison they could not easily remedy without knowing precisely what it was. Magical purification was their only option, but that came with the downside of being a more painful treatment. Whereas most assumed healing magics were always kind to the body, it could not be further from the truth when it came to poisons. Forcing aether into a body to purge a toxin from every ilm of tissue was neither pleasant for the practitioner nor the patient. 

After a torturous amount of time, the flow of Urianger's aether slowed, the treatment coming to an end. Samara lay twitching on the bed, faint whimpers and sounds of discomfort mingling with her shallow but even breathing. 

"I have done all I can. She must needs be watched for any signs of decline. Should the night pass without incident, she will be beyond the worst of it." With a weary sigh, Urianger sat down on the small stool by the bedside as Thancred made his way over. "'Tis fortunate you were so swift in your rescue. Had she been left to the mercy of the poison for much longer, I dare not consider the consequences." 

"Yet not swift enough to prevent this from happening to begin with. Clearly, there are some voids in my information network. There was nothing, not even a whisper, of any ill will towards Samara." he pulled out his water canteen, offering it to Urianger while he kept his gaze on the Auri woman.

"An attack of opportunity?" questioned Urianger as he accepted the canteen, greedily drinking the contents. 

"Perhaps..."

Finishing the canteen in one swift go, Urianger glanced up towards Thancred, already aware the elder Hyur was plotting something. "I can tell from thine countenance you wish to take action. I would counsel caution lest we be removed from the city before our friend is fully recovered." 

"Whoever is behind this will likely not give up on their prize. They will prevent us from leaving the city. Given there were Samurai with the group trying to capture her, I imagine the Sekiseigumi are already on the payroll of the person responsible."

"Then what does thou suggest?"

"The moment Samara can be moved, we take her to the Sharlayan embassy. It is the only place in Kugane she will be safe. Not even the most arrogant Hingan Lords would dare cause a diplomatic incident. Once she is there...I will take care of the problem." 

"Thou realises the protection afforded by the embassy does not allow us to conduct ourselves as we please. Should thou be caught-"

"Caught? Me? Come now, Urianger."

"I am being most serious, Thancred. Scion or not, we cannot act with impunity." 

"I know, and under normal circumstances, I would not elect myself to be judge, jury and, if needs be, executioner. But there is a present and clear threat that must needs be dealt with. If they are targeting Samara, it is entirely possible they will target any or all of us."

"And were anyone else the victim, I would believe thine words were born purely out of concern and pragmatism, yet we both know that is a half-truth at best. Retribution is unbecoming of you."

Thancred sighed, pulling the sleeves of his white coat free from his gloves before taking it off and laying it over Samara, the faintest smile tugging at his lips as the Auri woman curled up beneath it. 

He ran his fingers gently through her tangled mess of hair both to soothe her as well as himself. "It has nothing to do with revenge. I-...we have come so close to losing her so many times, and each time, there was nothing I could do." 

"When she returned to us on the Ragnarok, her body broken and bleeding with only the faintest flicker of life...I could only watch, wait and pray to every God in creation. I was useless. Powerless. But here...? I can do something here, Urianger. I can protect her." 

"Even if thine act of devotion ends with thou stained in blood and shackled in a cell? 

"It would not be the first time..."

Thancred moved away from the bed and over towards his travel bag, pulling out a long red scarf that would easily hide his face among the crowds of Kugane. 

"I've failed too many people, Urianger. I've failed her too many times. I will not fail her again."

Thancred then collected a pair of daggers from his bag, ones he had not used in ages but still carried out of habit. No further words were spoken between the men; a silent agreement had been made as Thancred left Samara lightly dozing under his white coat, safe in Urianger's care. For once, he stepped out into the shadows dressed almost entirely in black, the red scarf the only shade of colour to be seen and not a shred of white present. 

[thornshadowwolf]

I'm sorry to wired earbud fans but I have been converted to wireless earbuds. These aren't even expensive high quality ones and they're so much better.

This is literally the longest lasting pair of earbuds I have had in my entire life (~5 months and still going), and I use them almost every day. I've bought 3$ earbuds, I've bought 20$ earbuds, both last 1 week to 6 weeks (if I'm lucky) before the wire breaks. And of that time about half is spent with sound that only works in one ear or I need to hold the wire in a specific position lest the sound give out. Earbuds with volume adjuster buttons on them are even worse, as the moment the wire starts to degrade the earbuds start sending signals not only to adjust the volume without you touching the buttons, but also to pause or skip songs, and even switch apps. Plus if you get up and leave your phone on the arm of the chair you won't rip out the earbuds and throw your phone onto the floor. At worst you disconnect for being outside of bluetooth range. There is also no wire to get tangled if you put it in your pocket. And this probably depends on your brand, but not once have the silicone tips come off by accident.

Now the wireless earbuds do have some issues, but not any that weren't worse with wired earbuds. The main one being that the sound quality and volume is inconsistent. I don't know if it's from a flaky connection or if there's something physically up with them, but sometimes for a few days they'll be really quiet so I have to have them at max volume to hear anything, or the sound will be static-y, but after a bit of messing around with them they always go back to working perfectly. Something I cannot say for wired earbuds, because once their sound goes there's no getting it back.

So the only real downside is that you have to charge them, but even then, for every 2-4 charges I'd have to buy brand new wired earbuds. Edit: I don't have experience with this but if you forget to put them in their case it would be easier to lose one. So if you lose things easily there is a second potential downside.

So overall I strongly recommend wireless earbuds.

DISCLAIMER: this does NOT mean I support removing headphone jacks from phones.

[techreviewsguide]

Pros and Cons of Earphones: A Personal Take on the Little Sound Wonders

Earphones are everywhere nowadays. Whether you’re jogging, working, or just relaxing, earphones have become an essential part of our daily lives. But, like everything, they come with their pros and cons. I’ve used all kinds of earphones, and let me tell you, there are some real highs and lows when it comes to these tiny gadgets. In this blog, I'll walk you through the good and the not-so-good sides of earphones—just like we’re having a casual chat.

What Makes Earphones So Popular?

Earphones have become a must-have gadget. I mean, just think about it: you see people with them on public transport, at the gym, and even while grocery shopping. What’s the deal with their massive popularity? Well, let’s dive in!

The Pros of Earphones

First, let’s talk about why we love earphones. Trust me, the list is long, but I’ll keep it to the most important reasons.

1. Portability – Your Music Everywhere

One of the biggest advantages of earphones is how portable they are. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve just stuffed mine in my pocket or bag before heading out the door. Unlike big, bulky headphones, earphones are tiny and light. You don’t need to worry about space or weight—they’re just always there for you when you need them. If you’re like me and hate carrying big things around, this is a game-changer.

2. Noise Isolation – A Bubble of Privacy

You know that moment when you just want to zone out and not listen to anything around you? Yeah, earphones help with that. Most of them now come with some form of noise isolation, whether it’s passive or active. For me, this is a lifesaver during long flights or when I’m working in noisy cafes. With a good pair of earphones, the world just disappears, and it’s just you and your music or podcast.

3. Great for Fitness – Stay Motivated

I’ve tried running with big headphones before, and trust me, it’s not fun. But with earphones, especially wireless ones, working out becomes so much easier. They’re light, stay in place (most of the time), and don’t get in the way of your movements. Plus, there’s something about music pumping through your ears that just makes you want to push harder at the gym.

4. Versatility – From Calls to Gaming

Another thing I love about earphones is their versatility. They’re not just for listening to music; they’re perfect for taking calls, gaming, or even watching movies on your phone or tablet. Some earphones come with a built-in mic, and it’s so handy when you need to take a quick call without having to dig out your phone.

5. Affordable Options – Good Quality Doesn’t Have to Cost a Fortune

One thing that really stands out about earphones is that you don’t need to break the bank to get a decent pair. While you can spend hundreds on high-end models, there are plenty of budget options that deliver great sound quality. I’ve owned both cheap and expensive earphones, and while the difference is noticeable, even the lower-cost options can do a fantastic job.

The Cons of Earphones

Okay, so we’ve covered the good stuff, but earphones do have their downsides. And honestly, some of them can be pretty frustrating.

1. Comfort Issues – Can Be Annoying After Long Use

Ever worn earphones for a long time? Yeah, me too, and sometimes it feels like my ears are ready to fall off. The biggest con for me is that they can become uncomfortable, especially if you’re using them for extended periods. Earbuds tend to press against your ear canal, and after a while, it can be downright painful. Some people (myself included) experience ear fatigue, and it’s definitely a dealbreaker if comfort is a priority for you.

2. Tangling Wires – The Never-Ending Struggle

If you’re still using wired earphones, you’ll understand this pain. No matter how carefully I put them in my bag, they always come out looking like a tangled mess. Honestly, untangling earphone wires is like trying to solve a puzzle sometimes, and it can be pretty annoying when you’re in a rush. Yes, wireless options exist, but they come with their own issues (more on that later).

3. Durability – They Don’t Last Forever

One thing I’ve noticed over the years is that earphones tend to break quite easily. Whether it’s one earbud going out, the wires fraying, or the sound quality deteriorating, they just don’t seem to have a long lifespan. I’ve gone through more pairs than I care to admit, and it can get expensive if you’re constantly having to replace them.

4. Sound Quality – Not Always the Best

Now, this depends on the type of earphones you get, but in general, earphones don’t offer the same level of sound quality as over-ear headphones. If you’re an audiophile or just someone who loves rich, deep sound, you might be disappointed. Earphones can sometimes feel a bit tinny, and the bass isn’t always as punchy as you’d like.

5. Wireless Connectivity Issues – The Bluetooth Struggle

Ah, wireless earphones. When they work, they’re amazing. But when they don’t… well, it’s another story. I’ve had more than my fair share of connection problems with Bluetooth earphones. Sometimes they won’t pair properly, or they’ll randomly disconnect mid-song. And don’t even get me started on the battery dying at the worst possible moment. As convenient as wireless earphones can be, they come with their own set of headaches.

My Personal Experience With Earphones

I’ve been using earphones for years now, and I’ve tried everything from the cheapest to the most expensive models. Here’s my take: they’re awesome for everyday use, especially if you’re always on the go like me. But you’ve got to be careful with them, as they can be fragile, and the comfort factor is hit or miss.

One time, I was on a long flight, and my earphones were the only thing keeping me sane. But after about three hours, my ears started to hurt, and I had to take them out, which led to hearing a crying baby for the rest of the trip. Not fun. I’ve also had moments where my wireless earphones just refused to pair with my phone, which resulted in me having to walk in silence. So, yeah, they’re not perfect.

Conclusion – Should You Buy Earphones?

So, after all this, are earphones worth it? I’d say yes, absolutely, but with some caution. They’re great for their portability, noise isolation, and versatility, but you might have to deal with some issues like comfort, durability, and occasional tech glitches. If you’re willing to overlook the cons, earphones can be a fantastic companion for your daily life.

But hey, that’s just my take. What’s your experience with earphones? Let me know!

#earphones

[ghostsxagain]

They had been doing a rather splendid job at pretending to actually be together, so well in fact that Marie sometimes forgot that she wasn't his blushing bride to be and that might have been the best thing for the little show they put on. The lines were starting to get crossed though. Waking up in bed together, her arms tangled around him and doing little things for each other that were more than what they had always been between each other. That morning, after the kids had been sent off to their little summer camps for the day, Marie had gotten changed to go into the office just to check up on things (she didn't even need to be there) and went to give Chase a kiss goodbye but it lingered far longer than their usual ones and it took her a moment to pull away completely. "I..should get going." She said, clearing her throat and moving to reach past him for her bag. "See you tonight?" @atrickrtreat

Chase had initially been embarrassed as all hell to ask Marie for this level of help but she had proven early on that it had been the right thing to do. She was taking the whole arrangement very seriously, going above and beyond to make sure their 'relationship' looked legitimate to outsiders. The ruse didn't stop behind closed doors either, which made it so much easier to keep it up. The only downside was that pretending to be in love was actually messing with their feelings for real. Chase missed her when they weren't together, he thought about her constantly, he wanted to kiss her whenever she was near... In short, he was a mess. Chase vowed not to let it interfere with their plans. His situation was too delicate to risk losing it all by throwing a grenade into their friendship. No, he'd be okay sitting on this for however long was necessary. Though, if she kept kissing him like that then they were going to be in real trouble in no time. He had a starry look in his eyes as she finally pulled away, his heart beating so hard it felt like it was going to crack his ribcage. "Right, of course. Duty calls. I hope things aren't stressful at the office for you. Let me know if you have any dinner suggestions, otherwise I'll come up with something magical for us and the girls."

[littlesniggy]

Hi I' so glad to catch your askbox open! Could I ask for some headcanons for older Luffy as a s/o, sfw or n/sfw? If you don't write for Luffy maybe Shanks with a younger s/o? Thank you so muchaaaa ❤❤

Hey @shakethatsassyass Thank you for your request! I don't get many Luffy asks so I was happy to see you requesting for him! Headcanons are mostly sfw but some are a tiny bit spicy :)

Warnings: a little bit nsfw (just a tiny bit)

Word count: 500

Luffy

Older Luffy is a little bit more mature but still quite childish if you ask me. But when you end up dating him you already know this. His spontaneous and mostly crazy ideas will keep catching you off guard, even after years of dating. But that’s something you love about him.

Luffy has a strong desire to protect his friends and loved ones so naturally he will be protective over you as well. He might not put you in danger as much as he used to when he was younger, maybe, just maybe even considering the downsides his ideas might have. As I’ve said before, he’s matured but he’s not an adult, if you know what I mean.

Even when Luffy is older, he wants to see the world. Became pirate king? There is still more he wants to see. Has been to every island in this entire ocean? There is one merefolk in the ocean, why shouldn’t there be another one? Or three? Or four? Luffy wants to see everything and he wants you to be by his side this whole time. Once he’s become king of pirates he might take things a little bit more slowly, take his time at each island, somewhat like Shanks.

I don’t see Luffy getting married but that doesn’t mean that he is not committed. He just doesn’t see the need to make a huge tam tam about it with someone asking him if he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. Of course he does. Why else should he insist on you coming with him? Duh, what a stupid question.

Older Luffy, just like young Luffy, likes to be taken care off, especially when it comes to food. If you can cook it’s a huge plus. Nothing can beat Sanji’s cooking but yours is fine too. Just for you, he will try and learn how to cook too but you’ll soon learn that this is a bad idea and he’s basically banned from the kitchen (I mean, what’s new?).

Younger Luffy is not very interested in romance, let alone sex. Sex is not the first thing on his mind, not even second or third but over the years he enjoys it more and more, finally seeing the appeal in having a partner who can make him feel things he’s never felt before. He’s a late bloomer. Depending on when you two got together you’ll probably be the one to teach him one or two things.

Luffy loves experimenting in bed. Most of the time it’s funny and a hot experience (this man can move his body in ways you could never imagine!) but there are times where it’s just…too weird. You still remember when he stretched his limbs so much that he ended up tangling himself up in his own arms and legs, pants pulled down to his knees and a confused look on his face. “I think I messed up.”

Luffy, when younger, didn’t really know what ‘making love’ was. For him, it was almost simply chasing his lust and hoping you’d feel as amazing as he was. But the older he got the more he slowed down and started taking his time, exploring your body with his hands and mouth.

Younger Luffy was a heated lover, older Luffy is a passionate lover.

[suchalonelysunflower]

A Different Kind of Night (h.s)

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Summary: Is the Grammys! And you’re spending it at home with your handsome nominee.

Warnings: Fluff. Mentions of alcohol, COVID, anxiety and a bit of smut if you squint your eyes. Also, maybe some grammatical mistakes (English is not my first language. I’m sorry)

Word Count: 2.6 k

Author’s Note: let me start by saying that 1) the Grammys are rigged and I don’t trust them. 2) I haven’t seen the Grammys in years so I don’t know exactly how the awards go and 3) While this is a piece of fiction, I love Harry and I hope he brings home one golden record player 💕 Remember that Reblogs, Comments, Feedbacks and Likes are very important! You don’t know how much it helps me ❤️ Happy early Valentine’s Day. Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋🌻✨

My materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

“Harry, did you get the drinks?” You asked as you walked down the stairs.

“Go’em ready in the living room, love” Your boyfriend's answer came from the kitchen, his shoes clicking against the wooden floor as he made his way to where you were fixing your hair at the end of the stairs.

The moment he saw you, all dressed up and giddy, he let out a loud whistle. You felt your cheeks turn a tinted red as you felt his eyes checking you out up and down.

“Well look at you, pet,” He said with a grin as he walked towards you, rounding his arm on your waist and pulling you closer to him “You look stunning”

He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, making you giggle as his stubble tickled your skin.

“I wanted to look good tonight,” You said with a shy smile “Even if no one is going to see me”

Harry hummed close to your ear “Lucky me, then. Don’t have to worry about anyone stealing you away from me”

You scoffed “As if that were possible” With one last kiss on his cheek, you started to walk away. But not before Harry stole one small squeeze to your butt, making you gasp and shoot him a knowing glance as you turned into the kitchen, still able to hear him laugh.

You stepped into the kitchen and made sure the finger food you ordered was ready and placed in the tray. You wanted to make tonight extra special for him despite everything that was going on.

After pushing it back a few dates, the Grammys were finally happening tonight. Given the circumstances though, they were being held in an empty theatre while all the nominees stayed home and watched the ceremony.

Upon hearing the news, Harry was understandably a bit bummed out, but then he thought better of it “At least I’ll get to spend the evening with you” He said with a grin.

It was true. If it weren’t for the norms applied for the ceremony, you weren’t going to be able to celebrate with him. At least, not at that moment. That’s the downside of having a secret relationship.

You were used to it, though. Years of sneaking around and secret rendezvous made you an expert on the topic of privacy. It was something you both agreed on earlier on in the relationship, not wanting to attract the wrong kind of attention towards the two of you.

And yes, although that meant to have to deal with all the rumors of your boyfriend dating other celebrities and see him up and about in different galas where you had to maintain your distance until you were sure there were no peeking cameras, you wouldn’t change this for the world.

You loved Harry Styles as much as the next person did. But you much rather have Harry, just Harry all to yourself. And that made you one of the luckiest people on earth according to you.

“It’s weird to see the red carpet so empty,” You said as you walked into the living room holding the tray of food. Smiling at seeing Harry already seated comfortably with a glass of wine having already poured you a glass as well.

“Pfft. It’s boring anyway” He said, helping you set the food before you sat down with him, kicking your shoes under the table and cuddling next to him “You just walk, then stop to take some pictures, then talk to some random interviewer for a random channel, say you’re excited to be there and to be wearing Gucci and keep walking”

“Oh yeah, sounds dreadful” Sarcasm clear in your voice “I don’t know how you could survive that”

He grabbed a handful of popcorn and threw it your way, making you squeal before you retaliated with some salted peanuts, starting a small but very chaotic food fight among the two of you.

You were glad that it was only the two of you. While Harry’s manager offered to make a big celebration in his name for being nominated, he opted not to. Not only because he already received well-deserved repercussions for partying in the middle of a pandemic, but because this was a special moment for him and, even though he won’t admit it, he is scared of letting everyone down if he doesn’t get the win.

You, however, still wanted to make the night special for him. So you suggested you dress up for the red carpet- even if the only carpet you’d walk on is the one in the living room, get drunk and let whatever needs to happen: happen.

He loved the idea, although now he was starting to have second thoughts “‘m not gonna clean this” He said after taking into account the mess you both created.

Popcorn was scattered across the sofa and the rug, he had some pieces of peanuts tangled in his curls and on his suit. You didn’t want to look in the mirror to check how you ended up.

“Well, I wasn’t the one who started it,” You said, shrugging as you took a sip from your wine.

He crooked one eyebrow at you, ready to make his usual teasing comments known. But just as he opened his mouth, the opening number of the ceremony was starting.

The Grammys were broadcasted on tv, but all the nominees had a link where they should enter the moment their category is announced. Harry got it all set up in the living room, the computer and the camera ready to focus on him when needed. Yes, this was odd, everything was odd in these trying times. But you were glad they managed to pull through it and celebrate the artists like they deserve, even if it’s miles apart for their safety.

You enjoyed the first few numbers, chatting over your bets about who will win what category, yelling at the tv whenever your favorites didn’t receive the golden record player, and laughing at the bad jokes of the presenters.

When the pop categories came, however, the both of you were quiet as a mouse.

You knew Harry was nervous, you’ve never seen him fidgeting this much before. You gave him your hand to hold, to distract himself a little bit and for him to feel your unconditional support, and he squeezed it hard, placing a kiss on your knuckles and patting it softly with his other hand before covering it with it as his leg started moving up and down with a quick pace.

This side of him always surprised you. You were still amazed at how confident Harry was on stage and with people from the industry, yet when it was just the two of you, you could see the real him. The doubts, the second-guessing, the frustrations, the fears, and sadness of a real person. Not from the one that’s putting on a show to please strangers in a room. With you he allowed himself to feel, really feel like he couldn’t do outside the doors of your shared home. And you knew these nominations were eating him up from the inside with the anxiety it produced on him.

Harry was a perfectionist. He felt the weight of the world on his shoulders since he was sixteen, having the responsibility and burden to carry it without a word of complaint. He gave himself out on this album, showing parts of himself his fans would appreciate and accept. The pressure he had was unbearable and he still made it out of bed every morning, ready to give the world more than it could ever ask for.

You were proud of him, you always were and you told him time and time again, knowing he appreciated more than he could say. But sometimes you wished you could take him away for some time, letting him relax and breathe without constantly having to check himself if he did a wrong move or not. If he wins tonight, at least he will know it was all worth it.

The first two nominations were called. You could feel how hard he gripped your hand before he was asked to appear in front of the camera he set up in front of him. He tried to appear unbothered, but only you noticed the way his eyes gleamed with a shimmer of hope.

Harry waved at the camera and politely nodded whenever his name was being announced with his leg bouncing out of frame. But when the presenters called another name, he was the one clapping enthusiastically as his other colleagues received the acclaimed award. Never letting his true feelings show on his face.

You never asked if he was okay after he didn’t win, you knew he would say he is and brush it off like it was nothing. But you also knew that he needed your support at this moment and you gave it freely and lovingly. Cuddling next to him and soothing his hair as he let your hand run through his curls. It was the little moments, the details that let him know that he is loved. And he feels so lucky to be loved by you.

He told you time and time again and proved it to you thousand times more. But every time he said it, every time he showed it… it still brought butterflies to your entire being.

“Okay, love,” He said as soon as they cut through commercials for what it seemed like the tenth time “The album category is up next”

He said that with a serious face. You could tell that he was nervous, it was the most important award in the pop category; he had some strong contenders this year and was not at all convinced that he would win, especially given his other two losses.

You were about to say something, wanting nothing more than to comfort him and shake that mental frown away. But a notification rang on the computer, letting him know that it was time to get online and let people see him as he waited to be called.

He looked at you and smiled, letting you know that he was okay. “It’s just a stupid award,” He said, but you knew it meant more than that.

You smiled understandingly back at him and kissed him on the cheek before getting up to stand in front of the tv but behind the camera as you did in his previous nominations of the night, making it seem like he was alone.

“You got this” You mouthed at him from where you were standing, sending him an encouraging smile and two thumbs up. He replied with a wink and his award-winning smirk as the announcer called his name among the nominees.

Harry waved at the camera and you can already see his name trending on Twitter right now, it’s been too long since his fans have seen him up close and he knew very well what he was doing. That smug bastard.

While the presenter was calling the other nominees, your phone rang. You quickly grabbed it from the table and thanked the gods’ Harry’s vídeo was muted for the time being.

“Hello?” You said quietly, not really paying attention at the name of the caller before you picked up.

Harry had his eyes on the camera, but he furrowed his eyebrows to let you know that he was just as curious as you to know who was calling at this time and at this moment.

“You need to open the door, now!” It was Jeff’s voice. He sounded frantic as he hung up immediately after.

You stood there confused for a second before realizing what was happening.

“And the winner for best pop vocal album is…. Harry Styles’ Fine Line!”

Harry’s eyes widened as he heard his name being called as the winner. He started looking around for you, but you were now gone from your spot only to return seconds later with a golden record player in your hands and tearful eyes.

You were now standing at his side, face away from the camera as the viewers could only see your arms extending the award towards Harry, who had the most beautiful and genuine smile you’ve ever seen.

He took the award and threw it on the sofa next to him, quickly standing enough to reach your face and giving you a one in a lifetime kiss. Not caring that he was on national television at the moment. He was happy.

You felt how his hands cupped your cheek softly as his lips melted with yours. It tasted salty and you didn’t know if it was because of the popcorn or the happy tears on both your eyes. You only knew that this was one of the greatest moments of his life and you were lucky enough to witness it with him.

Soon, Harry had to let go of you, smiling widely at you and mouthing an “I love you” as he sat back down to start his speech. You quickly went back to your place behind the camera and smiled at him with utter pride.

You knew how much he worked for this, to separate himself from the kid he once was and to start his own career by just being Harry. And to see him smile like that… Harry only smiled like that when he was with you. His childlike grin and sparkle in his eyes brought life to your shared home as he held the award close to his heart, finally grasping the idea that that little boy from Cheshire made it.

He made it.

“... I want to thank my mum and my sister, who were always there for me. To the fans that made this record so special and have gifted me with their enormous support. And I want to thank the person I love most in this life” He said, lifting his gaze to meet your teary eyes. He smiled like a thousand suns and gave you a look that was just exuberant with love before placing his eyes back on the camera. “I love you and I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you so much for this”

You waited a good five seconds after his transmission ended before jumping at him on the sofa, wrapping your arms around him as you plastered kisses all over his face.

“I told you you were going to win!” You said excitedly.

He laughed and kiss your lips with passion “You did” He said between kisses “And I didn’t believe you” one more kiss “If this is not a sign for me to admit that you’re always right, I don’t know what it is”

You smiled before kissing him again, this time with more intent as you let him deepen the kiss, parting your lips as you granted him more access.

Harry grabbed you by the legs and made you straddle his lap, not breaking the kiss once as his hands roamed your back with soft touches.

“You know…” You said, letting out a sigh as his mouth traveled from your lips to your neck “You just kissed me in front of a camera”

He hummed, sending vibrations all over your pulse point “That I did”

“It’s going to be all over Twitter tomorrow”

“I don’t much care right now,” He said, placing his hands on your ass, making your hips slightly buckle against his front as he continued to ravish your neck and collarbones, leaving a trail of marks and soft breaths to follow later.

You chuckled, tangling your fingers through his hair, tugging it lightly so his eyes were on yours once again “Harry, you just won a Grammy!”

“That I did, too” He smirked, pure joy visible in his eyes.

“And how would you want to celebrate? My Grammy award winning boyfriend” You said, moving your hips with more intent and making him let out a groan.

Harry’s pupils grew and turned his eyes into a deep forest green, looking at you hungrily while he grinned “I got a couple of ideas”

*

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @sarcasticallywitty15 @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @notinthesameguey @bubblegum18 @irwin-fletcher-ash @multistann @tenaciousperfectionunknown @sunflowercherry

[mareenavee]

The World on Our Shoulders | Chapter 27: Echoes

26th of Morning Star 4E 202

Teldryn sat on the edge of Neloth’s bed, cradling a mug of canis root tea. His skin stung from the constant prodding and scraping to check for any remnants of the blasted Stalhrim. He was still anxious, if he was being honest. It made it hard to stay asleep. Tel Mithryn was almost unnaturally quiet, except for the low hum of the Levitation Runes and the rapid flipping of pages. At the moment, Neloth was poring over a collection of tomes while everyone else was sleeping. It couldn’t be long before dawn now. The perfect hour, really, for negative thoughts to swirl around unmitigated. He sighed and sipped his tea.

To make things worse, Nyenna still hadn’t been able to maintain consciousness for long, despite all Neloth was doing to help her. He’d theorized something about swelling in her brain combined with a disruption of the flow of Magicka through her body. It was as if the rebounded Shout had somehow broken her mind in more ways than one. The implications of that alone had him thanking Azura he’d even survived the Shout he’d gotten caught up in during that first fight by her side. He’d already decided he’d never underestimate her again, but now… Was it a death wish to stand so close to such power? Did that matter, in the end? He looked down at Nyenna now, sleeping peacefully, hair a tangled mess against the pillow, stress gone from her brow. It didn’t matter, come to think of it. It wouldn’t be right to leave and let her figure this all out on her own. She was a risk, but one he’d stick by until time itself came unraveled, Gods willing. He stopped mid-sip at the realization. Best if he didn’t exactly say that aloud, all things considered.

Neloth sighed heavily at his desk and swore in Dunmeris, his tone more exasperated despite keeping relatively quiet. Teldryn wasn’t sure how much of a healer he really was; even though he’d done incredible work after the Red Year, his personality sort of conflicted with the basic tenants of Restoration magic. To his credit, he did at least seem rather concerned and had even set aside the Stalhrim to study Nyenna’s condition. He’d also forced Talvas, his apprentice, to drop all his projects and papers to help. The boy was passed out on his own desk in the other part of the room, exhaustion of the last few days finally catching up to him. Varlais, too, had tried to help but ended up in more of a glorified servant’s role. He wasn’t really the thinking type, as Neloth had frustratingly come to find out. Teldryn had, of course, already known.

Teldryn did the best he could with his own Healing and Calm spells. He’d offered to go get Aphia from Raven Rock, but Neloth insisted he knew more than any other Mer in a thousand-mile radius. While that was likely true, there really was no downside to having an extra pair of hands. It was just as well…the debt he’d racked up with the grand soul gems wasted on Teleportation spells outshone his earnings from the last half-year at this point. He likely wouldn’t have to pay it back, except in insults and reminders of how heroic Neloth had acted. This would go on for the rest of existence, an inside joke turned into exhaustion in no time at all. But that was just how the old wizard had always been. And to be fair, he’d pay that cost again and again if it meant helping anyone after what they’d all been through, Nyenna especially so.

To Neloth’s other point, Nyenna’s Magicka was not loud now, not like it usually was. It hadn’t been for a few days, though whatever the affliction, it was at least healing. There was a huge difference from when he’d dragged her out of the Atronach’s lair. Then, it had been almost non-existent, barely registering at all. She was so pale. She seemed so fragile. She’d been speaking in frantic Dovahzul, almost as if possessed. And her eyes… Gods, but… It was too difficult to recall that particular memory. He swallowed hard against the fresh wave of horror. He’d been terrified. He’d lived long enough now that few things were capable of surprising him — but this whole situation had been almost too much. Not quite as bad as Red Mountain, despite the similar wrongness in the warp and weft of the place he’d felt, and the way their feet all had been moving of their own accord toward the danger. But it had been close. Living in the aftermath of that fight left him feeling somewhat hollow where fear had burned everything else away.

Unnerved, Teldryn sipped his tea and looked at her as she slept. It’d been a whole day since the last nightmare, so this peace was progress. As he’d done a hundred times in the last span of days, he reached out and brushed some of her curls out of her eyes. That power of hers was still there, like a shock under her skin, though dulled. He had hope, though, despite everything. Even in the void left behind by all the recent chaos, she gave him hope. He didn’t quite know how to tell her that without breaking unspoken rules. -> Read More on AO3

[floralseokjin]

;middle of the night (m)

FIRST LOVE, LAST LOVE

After a silly argument, Jungkook wants to apologise… at 2 o’clock in the morning…

pairing; jeon jungkook x reader  genre/warnings; established relationship, domesticated goodness, fluff, they have a dog now, or as Jungkook likes to call him ‘the cock block’, smut  words; 2,150

more﹆chapter index

“You awake?” Jungkook whispered into the darkness, murmuring your name for good measure. 

You kept your eyes shut tight, back to him, pretending you were actually in fact, asleep. Damn love, all these years together had made you so in tune you both could sense when the other was awake. You hadn’t been able to drop off properly ever since you’d hit the hay at 10pm. Tired but unable to switch off. Jungkook hadn’t been beside you the first three times you’d woken, this time however, he was, and just like him, you had known he was awake too. 

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being correct though, so you clenched your jaw and stayed silent. You were still mad at him after earlier this evening, and if he thought he could just give you a lousy sleep ridden sorry, he had another thing coming. 

But then you heard him let out a tiny sigh, deflated if anything, the mattress dipping with his weight as he turned around. Back to back. You hated that. Even after so long you both loved to tangle up in one another right before bed. No wonder you couldn’t get to sleep properly. You were having withdrawals. Plus, you hated going to bed on an argument. You hated arguing with Jungkook altogether. 

“What do you want?” You whispered, lifting your head up a little. 

He rolled over slowly, the mattress dipping again as he thought of what to say. By now you’d settled your face back into the pillow, waiting patiently. “Can’t sleep,” he mumbled. Ever so gently he outstretched his arm, hand caressing your side as he slid closer. He was really being cautious here. Unsure of your mood. It was actually pretty comical. 

He leant in, voice a whisper. “I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere you’d give him that, but the wood in his underwear made you kind of dubious. 

“Do you mean that? Or are you just sorry because your dick is hard?” 

“No,” he insisted softly. “No, I’m sorry because I’m sorry. I don’t know why my dick’s hard.” 

He was being honest, years of being together also meant you knew when he was telling the truth. You stayed silent though, waiting for him to continue. One little sorry wasn’t enough. 

“I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” 

“Hm?” You pressed. 

He tried again. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

“What wasn’t my fault?” 

He sighed quietly, resigning himself to the inevitable. “The steak being fatty. It was childish of me.” 

There it was. You grinned to yourself, thankful he couldn’t see your face. He probably felt like an idiot for getting so mad over something so trivial. Although you knew why. He was stressed over work; opening his own tattoo parlour had been amazing but he still wasn’t used to needing to be switched on practically all day, every day. Being your own boss had its perks of course, but there also came the downsides. Working six days a week, getting home late. He was exhausted. And stressed. 

It was the steak with too much fat that had set him off tonight, and when you had laughed at his overreaction, it was you who’d been on the receiving end of his frustration. You’d ignored one another for the rest of the night and you’d gone up to bed way before he had. Now, with the moonlight slipping through the shades, Jungkook’s body beside you, the touch of his hand against your waist, you softened. You would easily forgive him over something so silly. 

“That’s okay,” you reassured, shuffling onto your back to get a look at him. You reached for his face, cupping his cheek. You could just make him out, eyes still adjusting to the darkness. He was shirtless, hair in his eyes. You pushed some behind his ear, wanting to see his face. “We’re allowed to be a bit childish sometimes,” you smiled. “Sorry for teasing you.” 

You weren’t exactly innocent in all of this. You admit you liked to get a rise out of him sometimes just because he was so easy to goad. You should’ve known better lately. Even if he pretended like everything was alright, it probably meant it wasn’t. He hated being a burden, and he already felt guilty for using your shared savings on the parlour – it didn’t matter how you’d agreed to it as a couple with careful consideration, it still weighed on him heavily. 

Jungkook’s mouth curved up into a small smile, you could make out that much, settling his head on your pillow as he cosied up to you. “I hate going to sleep without cuddling you.” He whined, face in the crook of your neck. 

“Same,” you agreed. Like you said: Withdrawals. You felt him kiss your skin and then began to pay attention to something else. “You really don’t know why your dick is hard?” His erection was still there, pressing into your thigh as he cuddled up to you. 

“No,” he chuckled thickly. “It’s confused.” 

You slipped onto your side, facing your boyfriend as you reached for his mouth. You kissed slowly, lazily, just enjoying the closeness more than anything, before a few pecks turned to something more. Of course it did. If his dick was hard you weren’t going turn it down. You pulled back just as Jungkook was about to slip in some tongue. “What time is it?” 

“Gone two,” he replied immediately, before reminding you of something, his mouth back on yours. “It’s Sunday tomorrow.” 

“Mm,” you hummed, tongue meeting his, arms wrapping around his shoulders to pull him over you. 

Excitement real, he was breathing slightly heavy when he broke apart to ask you the obvious. “Do you...?” You nodded wildly, yanking him to you, hands travelling all over the expanse of his back. It had been a while since you’d last had sex, maybe close to two weeks, which for you both may as well have been a year. Not that you were annoyed. Like you said, Jungkook was exhausted because of work, mind too preoccupied. Sex was a great stress reliever though, so it was about time you tried it out… 

However, not soon after, lamp on, Jungkook’s mouth on your neck, one of his hands up your t-shirt, cupping a boob, you suddenly remembered something, instantly panicking and pushing him away. “Giuseppe’s not in here, right?” You demanded, eyes wide.

“Huh?” He sounded, confused by the sudden change, needing a moment to make sense of the question. “Uh, no. No, he’s not.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” he chuckled, reaching for a kiss. “He didn’t follow me upstairs.” 

Giuseppe was your pet dog. A long haired golden retriever that was already the height of your house despite not even being a year old. Jungkook loved him, treated him more like a brother than a pet, and of course he had named him. You’d just rolled with it. But there was one rule. The dog did not stay inside your bedroom when s-e-x was happening, and seeing as he had his own bed at the foot of yours, this was obviously a reoccurring thing. 

“Okay?” Jungkook pressed, kissing your nose as he waited to continue. 

“Okay,” you nodded, grinning up at him. 

“Okay!” He sung cutely, jumping up to tear his boxers off. 

Five minutes later there was some very eager fingering going on, Jungkook knelt between your legs as he stroked you to complete and utter pliancy, the sinful squelch filling the room. You were trying to return the favour, your fist wrapped around his cock, but your movements were sparse, too distracted by the pleasure coursing through your veins. “Jungkook,” you moaned against his lips, trying desperately to stay attached. 

He groaned, straightening the fingers inside of you, going a little faster, loving how wet you were. “God, you sound so good.” 

You moaned louder as his thumb circled your clit, hips jutting up. “Ohh—AHHH!” Your pleasure soon turned to surprise as you roared out, something heavy and large leaping onto your bed, attempting to bound all over you. “Oh, my god! Oh, my—Jungkook!” You exclaimed, sitting up immediately, his fingers slipping out of you. “You said he wasn’t in here!” 

“I didn’t think he was!” He insisted, a hand cupping his junk as your dog practically jumped up and down in excitement. “Honest. I thought he was downstairs.”

You grumbled, moment well and truly over, but you weren’t giving up. You were having sex tonight. It may be nearly three in the morning, but you were getting laid. “Seppe, out,” you ordered, pointing to the door. “Out!” He didn’t listen. It was Jungkook that called the shots, he told you it was some type of “bond” they had. You called bullshit. “Jungkook, get him out.” 

He instantly looked put out. “Babe, I’m ass naked.” 

“I don’t care. If you want to have sex he needs to be out of here.” 

“Fine,” he sighed, standing up, not bothering to cup his dick now – free and easy. Giuseppe instantly followed. “I swear if you didn’t make such a big deal about it he wouldn’t get so excited. He can sense these things.” 

“Exactly!” You cried. “He can sense when we’re just about to do it.” 

Reaching down to stroke him, Jungkook complained. “Giuseppe, you’re such a cock block.” The dog looked unbothered. Amazing. “Come on, boy. Let’s go.” And off he trotted, listening straight away to your “ass naked” boyfriend. He swung the door closed after him, looking your way with a satisfied grin. “There.” 

You pulled a face. “Now I feel guilty.” 

“Don’t change your mind,” he whined. “He can come back in once we’re done. He’s used to it.” Like you said, it had been a regular occurrence these past nine months. Jungkook made his way over to you, caging you under his body immediately. “Now where were we...” 

This time there was no messing about with foreplay, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked you. Jungkook had already admitted he wouldn’t last long, unable to curb his excitement, so it was more needy and fast than skilled and indulgent. Not that you were complaining. This was the best type of sex in your opinion. Just sheer want for one another, nothing else. When he came inside you with a groan, you glowed. Felt alive. 

“I really am sorry,” he murmured a few minutes later, still a little out of breath as he laid over you, stealing slow kisses. 

You grinned, teasing him slightly. “It’s okay. I forgive you.” He chuckled and you ran your fingers through his hair, admiring him fondly. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” He sang.

You wrinkled your nose, pushing your head back into the pillow. “Don’t.” You hated when he made it a competition.

Amused, he laughed, rolling onto his back beside you, folding his hands behind his head to look up at the ceiling. You turned onto your side, propping yourself up with your elbow so you could see him properly. He looked really worn out. Not particularly tired from lack of sleep tonight, but just exhausted in general. His eyes weren’t twinkling. You hated seeing him like this. “You sure you’re okay?” You asked, needing to make sure. At least he had some time off tomorrow. 

“Mm,” he nodded, looking your way. He gave you a small smile. “You know what I’m like. I need to learn to talk more about my feelings more.” 

You agreed with that. You knew him too well to prod when he wasn’t ready. This was the most you’d gotten out of him for weeks. “Well, you know where I am when you’ve learnt,” you chuckled. 

He laughed back. “On it. It’s probably better than bottling it all up and exploding over shitty steak.” 

“Definitely better,” you agreed. “But let’s not buy that kind again. My man deserves meat not fat.” That just made him laugh harder. You loved that sound. Kissing him on the cheek, you knelt up. “Okay, I need to pee.” And you both needed to actually sleep tonight.

“Can you have one for me while you’re there?” Jungkook joked. 

“Sure thing,” you nodded, up and already walking towards the door. 

You opened it and before you knew what was happening, Giuseppe had bolted in, jumping up on the bed. You heard Jungkook yell and yanked your head to see him balled up, hands protecting his crotch. 

“FUCK!” He cursed, twisting around in agony. “My balls! Damn dog trampled my balls.” 

You definitely shouldn’t laugh. Not at all. However the visual of Jungkook writhing around ass naked on the bed with the dog bouncing around and barking in excitement, totally oblivious to the pain he’d just caused, was enough to break you. So much for that bond they had… 

“Giuseppe, bad boy,” you scolded playfully. “Daddy needs those.” 

Written 2020.  Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2020

[sunflowervolvimp3]

you’re someone i just want around: II

“You can call me when you feel like

I’m your good time, I’ll be your temporary fix

You can own me, and we’ll call this what you like

Let me be your goodnight”

-Temporary Fix, One Direction

A/N: honestly can y’all believe @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy​ and i finished part 2 within a week like what kind of productive hyper fixated legends are we??? if you haven’t heard, this started as a random concept between andrea and i to discuss at 3am and then we accidentally fell in love with vampirerry and his stupid asshole ways and now we’re here!!! we really hope you like this part, and the next parts coming (which are in the works and begin to dive into harry’s tragic backstory because who doesn’t love a lil pain :)))) just a reminder that if you like this, then reblog it!! not just our work but the work of all content creators!!! and feedback is also greatly appreciated 💌 

ysijwa masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : andrea’s masterlist 

word count: 15.8k

content/warnings: vampire!harry laughing at a mortal not being able to open a door until he realizes his immportal ass can’t come inside, bloody good sex (literally), face f*cking, female-received oral, harry condemning stephanie meyer’s portrayal of vampires, psychological demolition of a quaint bedroom, and a cocky vampire with shitty taste in coffee

///

If Y/N can’t find her goddamn keys, she’s going to lose her mind.

Of course, she may just lose her mind anyways, given the way the handsome, tall, tattooed, and British (because of course he’s British, of fucking course) stranger whose name she can’t quite remember is smearing his lips against hers in the dim light of the hallway outside her apartment.  All Y/N wants to do is pull him--Henry?  Harrison? --into her apartment, into her bed, and tell him to fuck her until she can’t walk, but the stubborn lock of her door and the strangely bottomless clutch bag in her hand have other plans.

It does occur to Y/N, in a flicker of a drunken thought, that if she took a step back from the man--Hayden? --she may stand a better chance of finding the silver key ring she could swear she tossed in her bag before she left that night, but then the man’s tequila tinted mouth ghosts over hers once more, and the thought burns out completely.

“Y’alright, dove?” The man asks, his pillowy pink lips still hovering over hers as he speaks, low and soft and tantalizing. “Are you going to open the door, or do you want me to take you out here?”

A soft squeak stutters from Y/N at the lewd comment, and the brunette separates from her just enough that she can see the very corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk.

“Sorry.” He says, despite his voice sounding not very sorry at all. “Was that too much?”

“I--no, I just--” Y/N sucks in a deep breath to steady herself, but it backfires when traces of alcohol and his tobacco and vanilla scented cologne catch in the back of her throat. “I can’t find my keys.”

A small chuckle of mirth rolls from the stranger. “You can’t find your keys?  Shall I take a look for you?”

The thought of him-- his name starts with an H, she knows it does-- poking around in her bag which, by her normal standards, is quite organized, but by regular standards, is a fucking mess, brings a heated flush to her already warm cheeks. “No, I can get them, just--” Taking another reluctant step back from him, Y/N digs her hand down into her clutch, blindly pressing her fingers into the corners until she feels the touch of cool metal. “Got them!”

“Wonderful.” The man’s irises glint in the flickering hallway light, emerald glee flashing back at Y/N’s own drunken stare.  His eyes really are hypnotizing, Y/N thinks, with the way the forest shades seem to swirl around in each other, the way they seem to shine and darken over and over, how--

“Are you going to actually unlock the door, darling?” His lilting accent interrupts Y/N’s mesmerized thoughts as his hands smooth over the small of her back. “Or are we back to the idea of me taking you in the hallway?”

As more embarrassment flushes through Y/N’s body, heating every inch of her skin, she manages to shake her head quickly, the motion making her vision spin. “No, sorry, I--sorry.” She clears her throat once, the alcohol making her tongue feel heavy in her mouth. “Here--”

There’s another peal of laughter from behind her as Y/N spends a moment forcing her key into the lock of her door, having to give it an extra shove with all of her body weight before the stubborn mechanism twists and allows her to swing the door open.  With a relieved sigh, Y/N steps over the threshold, noticing that the stranger’s touch has fallen away once she’s inside.

With a confused and heavy glance, Y/N regards the curly-haired boy over her shoulder, turning slowly around to see him standing just outside the step of her apartment.  The hands that had just been groping every inch of her that they could get ahold of are now braced against the doorway, his tanned and inked muscles exposed beneath the sleeves of his blue t-shirt that fits him so perfectly, Y/N thinks she may faint.  Although his smirk is still tugging at his lips, his eyes have shifted to definitive darkness, and his expression has become more guarded.

“Is everything okay?” Y/N asks slowly, her own brows furrowing to match his own. “Aren’t you going to come in?”

The man’s eyes flash once more, and--Harry!  His name is Harry, Y/N remembers, and an alleviant feeling flushes through her veins while she struggles to keep the realization off her face as Harry straightens up to appraise her properly.

As his eyes scan over Y/N’s liquor-loose body, her eyes wide, trusting, and curious, her hair tangled from Harry’s fingers mussing it, a hickey just starting to colour at the base of her neck. The spot sends a flood of venom through Harry’s mouth and he knows that it’s time.  The moment that Harry dreads with each drunken club hookup has finally arrived.  The moment he has to figure out a way to get whatever poor soul he’s chosen as his midnight snack to explicitly invite him into their home.

There are a lot of abilities that come with being a vampire that Harry is thankful for.  The compulsion, he’d learned from his very first day in his afterlife, is one of the most useful and commonly used traits Harry possesses; after all, it’s a lot easier to take a little bite from an unsuspecting college student when you can make them forget it after.  The inhuman strength, of course, and the accompanying speed was handy, but mostly used for fun more than anything else.  When you barely sleep, you end up with a lot of free time, and impossible strength and speed makes for never ending wrestling matches, races, and various sporting competitions with Niall (they’d tried chess once, but Niall only lasted fifteen minutes before his attention drifted to the scent of a nighttime jogger outside the condo).

However, with all the sweetness that comes with being undead, there’s also the sour.  Iron has a tendency to burn the diamond-like skin of a vampire as if they were mere humans being prodded with a white hot brand, which Harry had learned the hard way back in his early days.  Stepping out into the sunlight has the same effect.  While these two issues could be easily remedied by dipping an iron object into gold, or wearing a sunlight ring respectively, there’s still one downside to life after death that irks Harry every time he’s presented with it.

Like every old folklore about vampires he had ever heard growing up, Harry has to be invited inside before he can cross the threshold of someone’s home.

And, as he’d learned over the years, it has to be an explicit invitation.  A beckoning of a hand or head won’t do, nor will a quiet whisper of “Follow me.” No, a resident of the home has to clearly state that they want Harry inside their space, or else he’ll be blocked from crossing under the door frame like there’s an invisible wall that only appears for him.

Given that Harry was raised in a time where proper manners were of the utmost importance, and an invitation had to be extended by a girl’s family before Harry was permitted to step onto the premises of their estate, getting this permission from someone isn’t too difficult for him.  However, if his meal is a little too soaked in alcohol, pulling an invitation from their slurring mouths can sometimes prove to be a challenge.

So when Y/N asks if he’s going to come in with confusion clearly tinging her voice, Harry knows he has to play his next moments very carefully.  He drops his eyelids halfway, giving her a sultry look that indicates every one of his intentions with her (at least, the ones he wants her to know about).  When he answers, his voice is low and drawling, dripping with thirst disguised as need despite the careful cadence of his words. “Do you want me to come in?”

While Y/N’s blood alcohol content is a little higher than usual, she still has enough awareness in her to show her surprise at the question Harry poses.

“Do I--?” She cuts herself off to rephrase her words in an incredulous tone.  Was he serious? “You literally had your tongue down my throat a minute ago, and now you’re asking if I want you to come in?”

Harry-- Y/N keeps repeating his name in her head to commit it to memory-- lifts one shoulder in a quick shrugging motion as he worries his bottom lip with his teeth. “I just want to make sure you’re okay with this,” He says, motioning between the two of them from outside the door. “Before we go any further.  Spoken consent is important, too.”

If Y/N hadn’t already been ready to drop to her knees and do whatever Harry wanted, that one sentence would’ve been enough to pull the reaction from her.  It takes every ounce of effort in her slightly intoxicated body to not tug his pants off right there in her doorway, and instead she takes a deep breath, swallowing down the lump in her throat. “Yes.” She tries to keep her voice as steady as she possibly can. “Yes, I want you to come in, Harry.”

The vampire’s nearly blindingly white teeth flash at her as a smile overtakes his face, and he confidently yet slowly strides into her apartment, his eyes flickering over the interior space, but keeping most of their attention trained on her.

As he steps towards her, Y/N steps backwards, leading him down the hallway, past her bathroom and small bedroom, and to the main kitchen and living area.  For once, Y/N is thankful that she took the time to do a quick sweep of her apartment the day before, as she would’ve been mortified if Harry had seen her half folded laundry spread out on her couch like it normally is.

“Do you, um--” She clears her throat once as she motions to the bar cart in the corner of the room. “Do you want a drink?”

Harry can’t help the small laugh that peels from his lips.  If only Y/N knew, he thinks, as he takes another step closer to her so he can grip her chin between his thumb and forefinger.  From the fluttering of her eyes, stuttering of her breath, and the audible increase of blood rushing through her body, concentrating in the areas that interest him the most, Harry can tell that she likes when he displays a dominant air over her.  Keeping his voice sultry to hide the growing smugness-- not completely, but enough that he doesn’t sound too cocky, Harry asks what’s meant to be a simple question. “You’re nervous.  What’s got you all worked up, hm?”

Tongue unfeeling in her mouth, Y/N struggles to answer as she stumbles over her words, distracted by the feeling of Harry’s ringed thumb caressing her chin, just barely grazing her lips.

“You’re just--I--” She sucks in a quick breath, trying to push down her embarrassment as her voice emerges more breathless than before. “You’re just really hot.”

Ah, the praise.  If the pleasure of swallowing down mouthful after mouthful of warm, sweet blood wasn’t Harry’s literal reason for existence, his most favourite thing in the world would be the way humans fawn over him. The beauty of a vampire is part of what lures a human in, and while Harry has foggy memories of being bashful in his human life, he’s fully transformed that part of himself in death.

“Am I?” He asks, and the snarky remark goes straight to the heat between Y/N’s thighs as he drops his face, his cool forehead pressing against her own flushed skin.

Y/N nods slowly, her nose bumping against Harry’s with every motion. “Yeah, you are.  I couldn’t believe that…” Her cheeks heat again as she trails off, and it’s only the insistent tap of Harry’s fingers against her hip that make her continue. “Couldn’t believe that you were interested in me.  Out of all the girls there…”

Harry uses his grip on her side to tug Y/N closer to him, despite already being only inches apart.  Although her scent had hit him like a train back at the club, here, in her own apartment, the fragrance is ten times as intense.  Y/N’s personal perfume of honey and lavender lingers in every breath he takes in, drifts off the couch, the throw pillows, the books on the coffee table...everything is drenched in her, and Harry almost feels drunk from it.

“Didn’t care about the others.  You--” He catches himself just in time, before the words “you smelled the best” tumble from his open mouth. “You just caught my attention. You looked so shy.” That’s true enough, Harry thinks, as his hand moves from her chin to grip the opposite side of her torso tightly in his large hands. “Wanted to see if I could break through that.”

Y/N yelps softly as Harry picks her up as if she weighs no more than a dandelion picked from a field, and drops her onto the couch behind her.  Although the worn fabric of the sofa is familiar, Y/N almost thinks that she should ask Harry to take her to her bedroom.  And then she gets a good look at Harry standing over her with lust clouding his jade irises and his lips so red she could name a lipstick after them, and every thought of anything besides him leaves her mind.

Harry straightens his spine after he drops her on the couch, his ringed hands easily finding the buckle of his belt to yank it free from his trousers in one swift motion, letting it fall to the IKEA rug below him.  His gaze flickers to lock eyes with Y/N as he fiddles with his zipper, catching and basking in the way her eyes keep falling to the movement.

He can see the neediness that’s practically dripping from her irises just as easily as tears would, and the way she catches her lip between her teeth in impatience forces Harry to bite back a groan.  It’s been so long since he had someone so...so fucking delectable, not just in smell, but in their actions.

“Would you like to do it?” Harry asks the question quietly, dancing his fingers over his zipper one last time before letting go.

Y/N’s answering nod is timid, and her actions are almost trancelike as she slowly reaches towards him, but Harry catches her wrist and grips it tightly before she can reach her goal.

Giving her a stern look, he raises his voice a few decibels louder than it was. “Use your words, then, darling.  Tell me.”

Harry can smell the flood between her legs as a lustful whimper falls from Y/N’s lips, the desperation that’s coursing through her veins amplifying with every passing moment.

“I want to--” She nearly stutters over the words, and takes a moment to collect herself before continuing in a more self-assured voice. “I want to undress you.”

Harry’s responding smile is so big that, if she weren’t slightly intoxicated, and if there was more than just the light of one lamp illuminating the pair, Y/N might have noticed the sinister glint of his teeth.

“Good girl.” His voice is as smooth as molasses when he praises her. “Go ahead.”

Although her hands are clumsy, Y/N manages to work around the button and zipper of his pants until she can ease the fabric down his legs, her desperation only growing as his boxers-- and the clear outline of his hardening cock-- become visible.  The erotic sight pulls a quiet but defined gasp from Y/N as she drags her index finger over the bulge, too entranced in her own actions to catch the way Harry’s eyes roll back into his head at the sensation.

“Oh.” With her heart thumping in her chest, Y/N finally raises her eyes to his. “You’re-- you’re so big, Harry…”

“Is that a problem?” Despite knowing that it isn’t-- and has never been before-- Harry still asks the question, wanting to extract as much praise from the mortal girl as he can before the night is over.  He’s always had a bit of a praise kink, adoring the way humans adored him, but there’s something about the voice of the girl in front of him that makes the compliments sound sugar-coated in the best way.

Y/N’s response is so quick and sharp that it almost pulls a laugh from Harry’s chest.

“No.” She insists immediately, giving a rough shake of her head. “No, absolutely not.”

The sides of Harry’s kiss-swollen lips twitch arrogantly, but the next words he speaks are genuine.  Although he’s a lot of things, certainly, a careless lover is not one of them.

“If it gets to be too much…” He brings a ringed hand to caress Y/N’s hair, his eyes softening for just a moment. “Don’t hesitate to tell me.  I don’t want to do anything if it doesn’t make you feel just as good as it makes me feel.”

And with those words, that same desperation that Y/N had felt when he asked if he could come inside earlier reignites in her belly.  It had never gone out, true, but it had dulled to a dim spark for just a moment, yet with the fanning of Harry’s latest words, exploded into a renewed bonfire deep inside her.  

“God, I can’t believe you’re real.” Y/N half mutters the words to herself as she scoots towards the edge of the sofa, knees bumping against the front of Harry’s bare calves as he takes a step forward.

With his ring-clad fingers still carding through her hair, Harry guides the girl’s head closer to the tent in his briefs, biting back a chuckle at her comment.  God has nothing to do with it.

“I’m real.” He murmurs in a sweet tone. “And now that you know that...what are you going to do?”

Y/N looks up at him through heavy lashes, pressing her trembling lips to the crest of his exposed belly button as a response, dragging damp kisses down his happy trail as she tugs his underwear down his deliciously thick thighs.

“Fuck, that’s it…” The words are strained when they leave Harry’s mouth with a feathery moan, his head throwing back in bliss as he enjoys the teasing actions.

This is always one of his favourite moments, he thinks.  The moment his flings-- his girls, as he sometimes affectionately thinks of them, or his boys-- get their lips around him for the first time.  Just as mortals fawn over his appearance, they worship his naked body, and his pulsing cock is no exception to that rule.  All of his lovers show an eagerness to please him, and Y/N is no different.

When Harry looks back on this moment six months down the road, he’ll curse himself for thinking something so naive, and for believing that Y/N really was no different than anyone else, especially when her smell alone was already enough to send him into a frenzy.  But right now, in this moment, she’s just doing exactly what he wants her to.  And that’s what he needs.

Y/N slowly wraps her hand around his girth, unable to meet her fingers in the middle as she slowly begins to stroke him.

“You’re so…” She searches her (less, but still a bit) inebriated mind for the right word.  Despite hardly having been touched by Harry, her voice is already wrecked. “So pretty.”

The innocuous adjective catches Harry by surprise, but only for a moment before he tugs her hair lightly, stocking the new compliment in the back of his mind for later reflection.

“Give it a little kiss, baby.” He murmurs, the cadence of his voice equal parts soft and dominant. “Show me how pretty you think it is, yeah?”

The request sends a shiver down Y/N’s spine as she complies, watching Harry through thick lashes as she leans forward with lips puckered, gently pressing them to the red and leaking tip of his cock.  Another strained moan rolls from his lips as her tongue darts out to carefully collect the precum gathering at his slit.

“That’s a good girl…” The praise that leaves Harry’s mouth is breathless, half whispered as he wraps her hair around his wrist and pulls her forward. “Y’can take a bit more now, dove.  C’mon.”

Y/N gingerly takes the head of his cock into her mouth, the underside of his length catching on her bottom lip and earning an elongated hiss from Harry.  His own eyes are fluttering as he watches her rub the textured surface of her tongue over him, mewling softly as the taste of his warm precum invades her senses.

The vibrations from the sound of pleasure makes the whites of Harry’s half lidded eyes momentarily tinge blood red as the sensation pinballs up his spine, causing his grip on her roots to tighten.  Harry sucks in a deep breath, waiting until he knows his eyes have returned to a more human-like state before drawing her attention back to him as he speaks.

“You look so cute like that.” He coos admiringly, the pads of his fingers careful in massaging her scalp without tangling strands of her hair in his rings. “Y’look like a proper angel with those soft lips wrapped around my cock.”

The filthy comment stokes the fire churning in the pit of Y/N’s stomach as she blinks tears from her eyes.  With a stuttering inhale, she tries to carve out a mental foothold in her mind, something to stop her from completely falling into the tension of the atmosphere.

“You taste really good.” She finally whimpers after a moment, the sentence spoken around his prick before she draws him from her mouth.  Y/N can see the way Harry’s eyes are glued to the string of saliva connecting his length to her lips, and the uninhibited lustful look almost sends her spiraling completely.  Pressing tender kisses up and down his extent, she begins to rub her silky lips along the prominent vein that stretches from his base to the tip.

If she’s going to succumb to the tension, she wants Harry right there beside her.

And from what she can tell, he is.  Garbled moans are tearing from his mouth over and over, his large cock twitching within her grasp.  When he speaks again, his voice is further from honey than it’s ever been.

“Christ, you’re such a dirty little thing.” Harry growls, raking his hands through her hair once more. “So excited to please, aren’t you?”

“I am.” Y/N whispers the words as she continues to smear kisses along his length, just enough to tease him, but not enough to push him over the edge.  There’s a feeling of intense desire rising inside her, not just for her own pleasure, but for his pleasure as well.  It’s a new feeling, quite unfamiliar inside her, but then again, why wouldn’t it be?  She’s never met anyone like Harry before.  She’s never lifted her head to look someone in the eye with their cock at her lips and been so mesmerized by the image of their swollen lips tugged between their teeth, dark eyes hooded with want as they stare back down at her.  It’s completely new, and completely everything she’d ever needed.

“Take more, baby.  Know you can.” Harry’s words are still growled as he grasps the base of his cock in his large hand, directing it towards her mouth, but pausing just outside of her lips.  For a moment, Y/N wonders why he won’t continue, but the quick quirk of his eyebrow raising makes her realize that he’s doing exactly what he did earlier in her doorway.

He’s waiting for an invitation.

A whimpering noise falls out when Y/N opens her mouth wide for him, flattening her tongue and extending it just past her lips so that the textured surface will slide along his expanse as he pushes into her mouth.

A crease appears between Harry’s eyebrows as his face contorts in bliss. “That’s it, darling.  Show me how well you suck cock.”

Y/N hums around his length, lifting her hand to replace Harry’s grip, but he grasps her wrist before she can accomplish the task, pushing her hand back down to her thigh and flattening it against the fabric of her pants.

“No hands.” Harry rasps, eyes glinting with dominance. “Just that pretty mouth.”

Despite her vulnerable position, Y/N manages to give half a nod, closing her watering eyes as Harry continues to dive deeper down her throat.  She feels the cool touch of his ringed hand against her bulging cheek, his thumb rubbing over the apple of her bone structure in a tender motion that contrasts their actions.

“Look at me.” Harry beckons her gently, but keeps a command in the tone of his voice.  When Y/N’s eyes flicker open again, he directs her gaze up to his own as his jade eyes flash darker, pupils dilating ever so slightly.  

Despite his very existence being unethical by nature of what he is, Harry doesn’t use compulsion on his partners inside the bedroom (or living room, or car, or wherever else he takes someone for a quick fuck and a bite to eat); he may be a monster, but he’s not a monster.  And his mother raised him better than that, even if she didn’t remember doing so.  No, if Harry is going to be engaging in a sexual act with anyone, it’ll be something that both parties have consented to while in their right minds.  

That being said, he does use his power slightly just to encourage those he spends his nights with to be as honest and free as they’ve ever wanted to be.  Meals taste best, he’s found, when his main courses have fully relaxed and unwinded, and Harry is a man-- well, not quite a man, but a being-- of fair play; if he’s going to be taking something from his partners, then he wants them to take something from him, as well.  And sometimes humans need a little push to do so.

“You’re going to let go of your inhibitions tonight, do you understand?” Harry speaks in a soothing tone, his voice like a lullaby as he strokes his thumb against Y/N’s skin. “You’re going to do anything you’ve ever wanted to, but been too scared to speak out loud.”

Y/N blinks up at him as her heavy eyelids lift, her own pupils expanding slightly to match his own as Harry’s gentle influence washes over her.  Her head jerks in a small nod of agreement, showing the understanding that she can’t quite speak in this position.

Harry rubs over the obvious bulge in her cheek, an imprint of his cock inside her warm mouth.  The longer he rests inside her, the more his chest heaves as waves of pleasure begin to lap at the trench of his stomach.  The sensation is distracting, and he refocuses himself more intently as a familiar prickling washes across the backs of his eyes.  If he doesn’t keep himself in check, his words will be more powerful than he means them to be, and that’s the last thing he wants.

“Don’t be nervous or scared.  I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N.” He continues the speech that he has memorized from how often he’s used it during one night stands, keeping his voice light and level. “You can trust me.  Do whatever it is you want, and nothing you don’t.  You’re safe with me.”

Y/N nods again, the action softer and fainter than it had been before. Harry can practically see the tension releasing from her shoulders. He drags a ringed knuckle across her cheekbone, admiring the sheen of tears gathering on her waterline as a result of his sheer girth.

“What is it you want then, darling?” He asks cooly, pulling back just a tad to give her enough relief to talk around his prick.

Harry watches as Y/N wrings her hands against her thighs, thinking her words through carefully and deliberately as her lashes flutter at the relaxing sensation of him caressing her heated skin.  When she speaks, all previous timidness and hesitation is gone from her voice, replaced with unwavering desire that sends a shockwave down Harry’s spine.

“I want you to fuck my mouth.”

Y/N sounds so sure of herself, so desperate at the request, that Harry almost grips her head and snaps his hips forward the moment the words leave her mouth.  However, years of control and restraint squash that instinct before he can even consider giving into it.  Instead, he merely pauses his motions as he contemplates the mortal in front of him, reevaluating the girl he had thought would be bashful and reserved for what seems to be the thousandth time that night.

At the pause in his actions, Y/N’s brows pinch and she stares up at Harry with a confused and almost wounded look, eyelids fluttering as if she’s worried that her blunt request had done something to upset him.  Harry, remembering the promise he had just made a moment ago, resumes his reassuring motions against her cheek, not speaking again until he feels the human unwind once more.

Once Y/N is leaning into him again, Harry asks the question that’s been spinning in his mind since she first spoke.

“Have you ever had anyone fuck your mouth before?” He asks curiously, despite being certain he already knows the answer.

Y/N rubs her palms flat over her thighs slowly as she gives the predicted answer in a quiet voice. “No.  Never.”

“But you want me to do it.” Although his words indicate a question, Harry phrases it like a statement.  He wants her to say it again, he realizes, closing his eyes as he revels in the feeling of her tongue massaging the head of his cock.  He needs to hear her say it again.

Y/N complies to his unspoken want. “Yes.” She mumbles around him, and the concentration needed to keep her hands pressed to her lap is apparent all over her face. “I want to make you feel good.”

The pounding of Y/N’s heart is so loud that its thump echoes in Harry’s ears.  He can see the pulse of her carotid artery in her strained neck, a warm and real reminder that this girl is alive and burning with need for him.  Harry lets out a low moan as his mouth begins to fill with venom once again, watering as if he were a human presented with his favourite meal.  Without thinking, he lets his fingers drift from her cheek to her neck, feeling the heated hammering rhythm beneath the icy pads.

All Harry wants to do is take a bite, and his fangs ache at the very thought of sinking his teeth into the young woman’s soft flesh, but he knows he has to restrain himself.  She’ll taste so much sweeter post-orgasm, after oxytocin is flowing through her veins, deepening her flavour.

“Alright.” Harry gathers himself as he draws his hand from Y/N’s neck, returning his touch to her chin so she’ll look at him again as his voice takes on a persuasive tone (without adding compulsion-- Harry needs her to be completely aware of her actions). “Keep your hands pressed flat to your thighs.  And keep your mouth and throat as open as you can, is that understood?”

Y/N gives a small nod, her jaw starting to ache around Harry’s cock in the most fulfilling fashion. Nerves are beginning to set in again, and she can’t help the shiver that tumbles down her spine and settles in her hands as she tightens them to her legs.

Harry frowns ever so slightly at the change in her demeanor. “You’re alright, pet.  You know that, don’t you?” He asks, letting his voice shift to a more tender tone for just a moment. “Let yourself let go.  I’ll take good care of you.”

With the calming aspect of Harry’s promise ringing in her ears, quieting the pounding of her own heart that echoes in her head like a drum, Y/N follows his suggestions. The young woman takes a deep breath through her nose to focus herself, and she’s so caught up in the moment— in the way he tastes and feels in her mouth, salty and velvety smooth— that she vaguely wonders how she’ll manage to move at all.

Nevertheless, with the help of Harry’s thumb gliding over her chin in reassurance, Y/N begins to bend to his will, her slightly aching jaw relaxing and shoulders unknotting. Gazing up at him with pliant and moony eyes, she waits for her next set of instructions. She has little experience with this ground— save a few porno videos she’d perused out of curiosity— and for some odd reason, she feels that she can put faith in him to guide her through it.  

As if he can sense what she’s waiting for, Harry speaks with a voice that floats through the air softly, thick like syrup and just as appetizing. “Lean back against the couch.”

Y/N does so immediately, slumping into the cushions while making sure to keep her back somewhat straight. Her head rests against the surface, more comfortable than she expected to be (perhaps she’d have to leave that as a review on IKEA’s website; “If you’re interested in getting your face fucked by a stranger you met in a club, this couch is perfect!”) as Harry climbs over her, balancing his knees on either sides of her hips. He’s careful not to rest any weight on Y/N, just as he’s careful to grip the hair along the crown of her head securely, but not roughly. Despite his most basic instincts, he refuses to be rough unless she explicitly asks for it.

Going against his default behavior, Harry finds out with every passing second, is easier said than done. It takes every fiber of his being to internally talk himself into being patient as he watches the mortal lap at his cock with a form of drunken need, the tiny whines escaping the back of her throat only increasing his fervor. With a care that’s only developed over centuries, Harry gradually works his hips forward, sinking deeper into her mouth inch by inch, his half-lidded eyes watching every twitch and flicker of her expression to make sure he’s not crossing any boundaries.

“S’that alright?” His tone holds the weight of the intense control he’s roping around himself, which tightens with every moan-induced vibration he feels around his length.

Y/N responds with an eager bob of her head, a broken mewl, muffled by his cock, encouraging him to go further.

Harry abides, holding her in place by her locks of hair and slowly sliding his hips forward until the base of his cock taps against her wet chin. His free hand rests beside her ear, twisting the navy blue couch cushion into his fist. It’s the only way to keep himself sane, he thinks, especially with how Y/N is ogling up at him with those big innocent eyes, swirling with alcohol yet still so clear, the skin of her cheeks boiling with heated blood as breaths falter past her nostrils.

The sight of the human girl so open and ready for him would have stopped Harry’s heart if it had a beat.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” Harry gets a sudden urge and can’t stop himself from leaning down to press a lingering kiss to the center of her sweaty forehead, right between her brows.  Given the nature of his other urges, a tender kiss is one he can let slide. “I’m going to leave your throat so fucking sore.”

The gentle action contrasted with his sinful promise pulls another whine from Y/N’s mouth, quiet and soft and so inaudible that if Harry were human, he might not hear it.  And what a shame that would be, he sighs internally, as he tightens his vice-like grasp on her couch cushions, reminding himself not to rip the fragile fabric as he clenches his fist.

Harry holds himself there for a moment, enjoying the sensation of her wet and warm throat contracting around him.  Y/N’s eyes, which were watering even before she opened herself up like this, release a small salty tear that traces down her cheekbone. Harry releases a hand’s grip on the couch to wipe the teardrop away with a ringed knuckle.  Curiosity is what makes him bring the digit to his mouth, letting his tongue lick off the saline droplet.

It’s a strange flavour, Harry decides as he retracts his finger from his mouth.  Salty, yes, but there’s a hint of the same underlying flavours that run through blood, depending on someone’s emotional state.  It’s rather refreshing.

Not letting himself waste anymore time on thinking about anything except the girl in front of him, Harry shakes himself from his internal thoughts.

“Hold yourself right there for me, darling.” He says lowly before slowly retracting his hips, watching as his spit-slick cock slips from Y/N’s red lips, her lipstick smudged and faded.  He keeps pulling back until just the tip rests on her tongue, and he lets himself enjoy the sight for a moment before he begins to thrust forward again.  Repeating the same motion a few times, Harry takes careful and measured breaths through his nose before increasing his speed.

Y/N keeps her damp eyes on Harry with every move of his torso, staying as open for him as he requested.  The obedience, trust, and desire written all over her face drives Harry mad.

“That’s— fuck, that’s perfect.” His voice drops lower, the tone smooth as liquid silk while he snaps his hips forward again. “Stay just like that for me, yeah?  Like a proper good girl.”

There’s something about the simple praise that incites a craving deep in Y/N’s stomach.  As Harry bulges in her throat over and over, her eyes roll back into her head at the foreign yet entirely pleasurable experience, and her insides burn with the sensation of him using her.  There’s just something so satisfying about feeling him ram into her mouth, the crescent above her upper lip catching on the bristly hairs that sprinkle in a line down the center of his abdomen. Her nose nudges against the trough of his belly button repeatedly, the picture of his jolting fern tattoos— which she hadn’t even noticed until he was down her throat— becoming blurrier with every slam forward.

Harry doesn’t cap his noises of bliss either, and allows vulgar curses and grunts to slip down his tongue freely. Through a clenched jaw and bared teeth, he pants about how well she’s doing and how good she’s taking it, feeding the boiling satisfaction in her veins.  She wants to please him.  She needs to please him.

“God, look at you.” He begins tugging and pushing her head to match his thrusts, his fangs poking along the inside of his bottom lip as he feels how strong her heart is beating. He can feel the thundering pulse through her mouth, stringing right up his prick and deepening the thirst burning along the back of his tongue. “Taking that cock and loving every single bit of it. You like this? Like it when I use that pretty little mouth to make myself feel good?”

Y/N chokes out a shattered whimper of agreement, sniffling a gasp when his pace speeds up a smidge.

“Fucking hell, you’re filthy. S’always the quiet ones, isn’t it?” Harry rasps, the words flowing from his flushed mouth as he sucks in breaths between phrases.

Although his rings dig into her scalp, Y/N doesn’t alert him of it. If anything, she enjoys the minimal flare of pain the action brings, almost as much as she enjoys the way he gazes down at her with an open-mouthed simper, electricity coursing through the specks of gold around his pupils, head bobbing back and forth along to his steady stride.

“Shy girls like you are just nervous to say what they really want until the right person comes along. Isn’t that right, baby?” Harry can’t help the filthy exclamations spitting from his mouth, and he doesn’t want to.  From his first remark, Y/N was hooked on every dirty claim, and if she wants to hear more, who is he to rob her of that? “You were just sitting there all prim and proper, waiting to find someone who could give you what you wanted. Someone who isn’t afraid to fuck you how you like it.”

Y/N’s hands tighten into loose fists in her lap, itching to grab onto the plushness of his hips and drag her fingers up his lean stomach, to feel it contract beneath her fingertips as Harry chases his high.  And Harry can see her intention, any pleading she’d normally vocalize funneling into her watery eyes. The way she’s silently begging him to allow her to touch him is bound to dismantle him quickly.  Too quickly, if he doesn’t keep himself on track.

Of course, there’s a voice in the back of Harry’s head, his most repressed instinct, telling him to do just that.  The voice tells him to quicken his thrusts, push himself down Y/N’s throat as deep as he can, and release in her mouth before lifting her like a rag doll and biting into her neck to satiate the thirst that’s been burning in the back of his throat since he first caught her scent at the bar.  But Harry suppresses that instinct far back down inside himself once again before slowly removing his cock from Y/N’s mouth.  If he’s going to cum, he wants it to be inside her.  It has to be inside of her.  And he doesn’t want to be done just yet.

The moment Harry’s prick slips out of her mouth, Y/N gasps, drool slipping from the corner of her lips like the tears from her eyes.  Despite her wrecked appearance and the soreness beginning to ache in the back of her throat, there’s a whine of displeasure mixed with her gasps as her glossy eyes track Harry’s movements. “Where—where are you going?”

The human girl’s eagerness for him brings a small yet pleased smile to Harry’s face, and he lets one chilly hand rest on her heated cheek as he climbs down from his position on the couch.

“There’s so much more for us to do tonight, angel.” An amused chuckle sounds from his throat as he straightens himself up. “Did you really think a quick blowie was all I wanted from you?”

Y/N wipes the edge of her mouth, smearing whatever lipstick had been left on her skin after Harry finished. “I would hope not.” She murmurs truthfully, managing to raise her brows in judgement.  While she’d normally never sass somebody that easily, especially someone she barely knows, she feels that it’s acceptable given that this stranger had been shoved down her throat moments ago, spewing explicit comments about her without a single issue.

Y/N’s cheeks burn as Harry’s crude words from before run through her mind like an audio recording.  She definitely has the right to sass him.

The way Harry grips her tired jaw firmly, however, tilting her chin upwards while leaning down to ghost his cherry lips over her own swollen pair, has her rethinking that within seconds.  

Y/N knows that she should be embarrassed that all it takes is a touch to her chin and one kiss to send her back into a submissive state, but she can’t bring herself to care in the moment, especially as a few rogue curls fall across Harry’s forehead and frame the edges of his face.  The stray strands give the dominant man a less intimidating appearance.  Just less intense, Y/N thinks.  Maybe even soft. She’d gotten so caught up in the whirlwind of dirty promises and brazen actions that she had failed to notice that the young man before her is exactly that— a young man. A young man with wild eyes, a strong grip, and a stern hold on her within just a few hours of meeting.  But even with the reminder that Harry is around her age, Y/N can see that he carries himself with the confidence and persona of someone much older, hinting that he has much more experience than any normal adult in their twenties would have.

The possibility of where his extensive expertise and skills could apply to makes her stomach flutter.

Y/N thinks she might get lost in the feeling, until a tiny shot of pain snaps her out of her head. Her bottom lip throbs between Harry’s teeth after he’s captured it, his nose smudging along the bridge of her own, a messy action that he somehow makes thoughtful and concise.  His eyes are the color of a forest at midnight, and when he speaks, his tone comes out even, yet commanding and assured in the most attractive sense.

“Take off your clothes.”

The order sends a rush of heat to Y/N’s core as her half-lidded eyes flutter, and she feels a pull in her to comply as Harry releases her lip from his teeth.  Her hands reach for the hem of her blouse that’s already half-untucked from Harry’s wandering touch, but she pauses, fingers still gripping the sheer fabric.

“Will you—?” Y/N cuts herself off abruptly, tongue licking over the sting in her lip as she rephrases her speech. “I want you to help me.”

The simple request knocks the breath from Harry’s lungs so fast that he’s lucky he doesn’t actually need it to function.  It takes him a moment to center himself enough so that he can suck in sharp breath to regain his dominance.

“Do you?” Harry does his best to keep his voice steady as he kinks a brow and leans back from Y/N, strong hands replacing her own at the hem of her shirt.  He clicks his tongue against his teeth as he pulls her hold away, his fingers resting just over her racing pulse point. “Let go, then. Arms up.”

Once Y/N’s arms are in the air, Harry has no trouble removing her shirt, tossing the delicate fabric to the side before working his fingers around to the band of her pink lace bra. The scent of Y/N’s heated skin is too much for him to resist, all lavender and liquor, and he begins to pepper kisses along her collarbones and neck, making sure his teeth are hidden behind his pillowy lips.  The task is easier said than done, especially when Harry can feel the human’s heartbeat throb beneath his touch, but he manages to restrain himself from taking a bite.  It’ll come in due time, he knows it.  His thirst will be handled, Y/N just needs to be taken care of first.

With another flick of his hand, Y/N’s bra joins her shirt in a puddle on the floor.  Now that there are no barriers between Harry and her soft, supple skin, his hands travel to her bare chest, cupping and tweaking and massaging, pulling every sound imaginable out of Y/N as he touches her.

“Harry, I—“ Y/N can barely form a sentence as Harry synchronizes a wet kiss on her neck and a quick tug on her nipple, his lips smirked against her skin. “Oh...”

“What’s the matter, love?” The breathless, incoherent moans leaving Y/N’s mouth make Harry’s smirk widen. “Cat got your tongue?”

Despite the warmth rising to Y/N’s cheeks, she manages to sound indignant as she shoots Harry as much of a glare as she can muster with his hands on her breasts. “Shut up.”

Harry hums in response, sending vibrations down the length of Y/N’s throat. “Mm.  I suppose I could use my mouth for something else…”

It’s almost comical how quickly Y/N’s heart rate increases at that comment.  It would be comical, Harry thinks, if the pulsing of her neck didn’t excite Harry’s cock the way it does.  As much as he pretends otherwise, he needs this as much as she does.  Even more, if the dull ache running down the back of his jugular is any indication.

The vampire detaches his mouth from the girl’s neck, promising himself he’ll return there later once he’s properly prepared his dinner.  While Y/N’s sweet-smelling blood is his main course of the night, he still has an appetizer sitting in front of him that he has yet to taste.

Harry’s shirt quickly joins the growing stack of clothing on the floor before his trousers do.  He allows himself one ghost of a stroke on his cock, still slick with Y/N’s spit, but only to tease himself.

“Lay back down.” He demands, tucking himself back in his boxers before getting to his knees.  Y/N watches the movement with hungry eyes, lip trapped beneath her own teeth just as Harry had done a few minutes ago.

“C’mon, love, don’t stop behaving now.” Harry chides her, smoothing his ringed hands over the fabric of her flowy pants before finding the button. “Lay down.”

At the repeat of the command, Y/N obeys him, wordlessly lifting her hips so Harry can tug down her now unbuttoned bottoms.  He only gets the material halfway down her thighs before her scent hits him like a fucking truck, and then any semblance of rational thought leaves Harry’s mind completely.

If Y/N’s blood is a finely aged wine with notes of lavender and honey scattered throughout its bouquet, something that deserves to be sipped out of a fine crystal goblet and worshipped, then what lies between Y/N’s thighs is the most delectable tequila Harry has ever had the pleasure of tasting in his two hundred years, her signature honey scent still detectable beneath it all.  

Harry’s hands are almost a blur as he reaches back up and hooks his fingers into the waistband of her underwear, tugging them down to meet the waist of her bottoms before pulling both articles off completely and throwing them to the side.  He parts her legs just as quickly, and before Y/N can even say anything, his mouth is against her core, sedating his need the only way he can at this moment.

“Oh--!” A squeak of surprise falls from Y/N’s lips as one hand finds Harry’s curls, twisting into them tightly as her other finds her own hair.  With her eyes falling closed, she misses the crimson hue that flashes through Harry’s emerald irises with every moan.

Harry’s control is beginning to slip, and he knows that.  It would be frustrating, honestly, if it didn’t feel so fucking good.  It’s been so long since he’s felt so feral for someone, so desperate— truly desperate— to press himself as close as possible to them, to lap up anything they’ll give him, and that’s all he wants to do right now.  Harry’s nose nudges against Y/N’s clit, pulling another searing mewl from her throat as his tongue darts into her entrance.  Every one of his heightened senses is filled with Y/N, consumed with every inch of her; her fragrance fogs his mind, her taste coats his tongue, and her soft thighs dimple beneath his grip that keeps her spread. The sensation of her hands tugging at his hair is the only thing keeping him grounded.  

Flicking his tongue over her clit once more, Harry revels in the broken sounds spilling from above, audible proof that he’s making her fall apart with his mouth just as much as she did to him.  It brings a sense of pride to Harry’s chest-- he doesn’t just take from his partners.  He gives in return.

“H-Harry--” Y/N pants his name in a shattered voice, her face screwed up in pleasure as she drags her hand from her hair to her chest, gripping her own breasts in her palm as her chest heaves.

It’s not as though Y/N hasn’t had her fair share of sex, and she’s most certainly had someone go down on her before.  The problem, she just manages to think as Harry suctions his lips over her clit, is that it’s never felt like this before.

In this moment, with Harry’s mouth working over her as if she was his last meal, Y/N would give up everything to memorize the sight and sensation of this man on his knees for her.  Everything, from the filthy noises that slip from his mouth between movements, to the way his irises darken with every passing moment, indicates that Harry is just as into that scenario as she is.  And that’s what it is, really.  What sets Harry apart from anyone else she’s ever had.  Any other man that’s gone down on her has treated it like a chore, while Harry—

“You’re fucking delectable, y’know that?” He rasps, the vibrations of his words rolling over her core with every phrase. “Like dessert.  The sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Y/N drags her hand back up to her mouth, wedging her index finger between her teeth to stifle the borderline embarrassing moans threatening to overflow. “I’m—I’m so close, Harry...you’re gonna make me cum…”

“Mhmm.” Harry hums against her clit in agreement, stroking his tongue along her dripping opening once more before pulling away. “But not right now.  You’re going to cum around my cock.”

Although Harry makes it sound like he’s teasing her, taunting her by holding her orgasm off until the very last second, he knows the truth: if Y/N were to cum right now, if her body were to shudder and give into every request Harry’s tongue is pulling from her, then Harry wouldn’t be able to take it.  If Y/N were to cum with his head still buried between her thighs, it would only be a fraction of a second before Harry’s teeth would be buried in them instead.

Restraint, he tells himself as he slowly rises from his knees, reaching for Y/N’s face and gripping her cheeks in one hand as he steals a rough kiss from her supple lips.  Restraint.  Everything will come in due time.

“Wait—” Y/N makes a sound of protest as she falls back from the kiss.  Although it’s a struggle for her to form a functioning and coherent thought, she needs to do it. “I— are you clean?”

Harry cocks his head to the side, the blunt and laughable response of “I’m dead, darling.” hanging on the tip of his tongue.  He should add that to his list of vampire perks, he thinks.  He already caught the worst thing anyone can catch— death— which means STDs and pregnancy scares are the furthest thing from his mind during sex.

Instead of that complicated answer, however, Harry opts for something simpler.

“Yes.  Scout’s honour.” He assures her with a quick nod of his head.  For the sake of appearances, he poses a question back to her. “What about you?  Are you on birth control?”

A flash of relief lights up Y/N’s eyes. “Mhmm.  And I’m on the pill, so…” Her cheeks burn beneath Harry’s touch. “We’re, um, we’re good to go.”

A choked laugh sounds from Harry’s throat as he shakes his head, smudging another kiss at the corner of Y/N’s mouth. “We’re good to go, are we?  I’m glad to hear it.”

All of his teasing is for one purpose and one purpose only: to hear Y/N’s heartbeat spike in intensity and speed.  When his comment easily receives the desired reaction, Harry brushes his fingers along the girl’s pulse point as he drifts his lips to her ear, grazing the cartilage with his teeth.

“Bend over.” He murmurs, accent thick as it rings in her ear. “I want you on your hand and knees for me.”

Y/N grips his tattooed shoulder tightly in her hands, kissing him one more time before obeying the directions offered.  It takes her a moment to turn over on the couch and situate herself comfortably on her knees, bracing her hands on the back of the cushion as Harry’s strong grip finds her hips.

“You have the prettiest arse.” He smooths his hands over her backside as he speaks, admiring the softness of her skin beneath his calloused palms. “You’d look so pretty covered in marks, wouldn’t you?”

“I-I think so.” Y/N agrees breathlessly, glancing over her shoulder at the wild look in Harry’s eyes.  He winks at her when he catches her gaze, tapping his fingers against her lower backside before spreading her legs apart more.

“Don’t worry, love.  Won’t be doing that to you tonight.  Don’t have the patience, honestly.” Harry keeps his tone casual, which is a miracle, Y/N thinks, considering he’s completely stripped himself and is stroking his hard cock as he speaks.  The cadence of his voice in contrast with his actions makes her shiver, and the anticipation only crescendos when Harry rubs the tip of his prick against her soaked slit.

“‘M going to start, alright?” Harry’s voice is tight, and he’s barely able to wait for a sound of acknowledgement from Y/N before he begins to part her folds with his cock.

The relief is simultaneously instantaneous and completely out of reach.  Yes, the wet and burning heat of her walls squeezing him satisfies the deep pulsing in the pit of his stomach, but it does nothing for the dry heat in the back of his throat.  If anything, being so close to her is only a reminder of what he really, truly needs.

Harry forces himself to thrust slowly, to exercise the control he’s usually so good at displaying. Patience, he repeats to himself.  Don’t get ahead of yourself.  Focus on what’s happening in the moment.  

And then he bottoms out, his pelvis pressing flat against Y/N’s soft flesh as her spongy walls squeeze him. Y/N lets out a moan so filthy that Harry’s knees buckle and every ounce of restraint disappears from his body.  

“Fucking hell--” His voice doesn’t even sound his own as he digs the pads of his fingers into Y/N’s hips, surely leaving bruises that will blossom before the sun rises.  He begins to quicken his thrusts as the sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, accompanied by the whimpers echoing from Y/N’s lips and the grunts falling from his own.  With every stroke, Y/N’s fragrance fills the air more and more, pulling him further into a cloud of lust and hunger with every ragged breath he sucks through gritted teeth.  When he sees the throbbing of Y/N’s veins in her neck, flashing at him like a signal, teasing him to the point of no return, Harry’s instincts grow louder, overshadowing any ounce of control he has left.

He grips the girl’s shoulder roughly, tugging her body up from its bent position to press flat against his sweaty inked chest.  Once she’s in the desired position, Harry’s hand travels to her neck, squeezing just enough to win a choked moan from Y/N’s lips.

“Fuck, Harry--” She whines breathlessly, arching her back as she reaches to tangle her own fingers in his knotted curls.  Her harsh tug pulls another groan from Harry’s swollen lips as they hover just over her neck, brushing against her hot skin with every ram.  Her smell is so intoxicating, he could just--

And then he feels Y/N’s own lips on his neck and his senses overwhelm.

Even before Harry was turned, he had been a creature centered around touch.  Of course, in the 1800s, touch was something that was fairly forbidden between anyone who was less than married, save for a rare dance at a ball with a beautiful girl.  The first time Harry had been touched in this way, it had been by a young woman he has since tried so hard to block out of his memory. It had set his skin on fire, a feeling that never quite went away, even after her fingers had left his wrist that very first day.  It was like she’d left an imprint on him, a candle burning in the window of his heart so that she’d be able to find her way back whenever she wanted to.  And then her last touch had burned him more than he ever thought possible.  If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the whitehot pain as she cradled his head between her palms, still hear her soft, accented voice in his ear, reassuring him that everything would be alright, the sick sound of his own neck snapping--

He just doesn’t let people touch him there. Ever.

Harry’s hand tightens around Y/N’s throat, just for a moment, before guiding her kisses from the sensitive area to his collarbones.  The memory still seems just as fresh and poignant in his mind as the day it happened, with time healing nothing, and Harry has to remind himself that he’s not that person anymore.  He’s different now.  He’s the one in control.

“I’m close, Harry--” Y/N’s sweet voice is a welcome reminder of where he is, cutting through his thoughts like a bird song cuts through a quiet morning. “Shit, I’m so close.”

“I know.” Harry growls the words into her ear as he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses along her jugular.  He can smell it on her, how her blood is sweetening with every passing moment, like a fruit ripening for picking. “Cum for me, pet.  C’mon.  Y’can let go.”

Y/N takes his words to heart, throwing her head back onto Harry’s muscled shoulder as her orgasm builds to its peak.  Harry can feel it-- how she contracts around him, how her juices drip down his cock and onto his thighs, how her pulse quickens beneath his lips.

And then Y/N cries out as she falls over the edge, Harry’s self control crumbling the moment he feels it, and the vampire sinks his teeth into the supple flesh of the mortal’s neck.

Y/N’s cry of surprise quickly turns into a moan as Harry’s venom begins to race through her bloodstream, the chemical hormones calming and sedating her in order to allow him to drink as much as he’d like.  Normally, Harry waits until his partners are fast asleep, tired from their activities, but Y/N’s scent is so overpowering and consuming that, honestly, it’s a wonder he’s managed to keep himself together this long.  And the moment Y/N’s blood washes over his tongue, he’s not sure if he’ll ever be so controlled again.

There are flavours that he predicted: honey, lavender, vanilla, a hint of the alcohol she poured back earlier, all sugared by the orgasm currently coursing through her body.  But there’s something else underneath, too.  A depth of flavour that he can’t quite place.  Something he’s never experienced before.  From the first taste, Harry knows he’s hooked.  Every drink he’s had before this moment has paled in comparison, and he knows he’ll spend the rest of his life combing the Earth before he finds another that could match .

“H-Harry…” A gentle whimper falls from Y/N’s mouth as the waves of her climax finally recede. “Feels so good.”

Harry hums against her skin as he quickens his thrusts.  As satisfying as drinking from the young woman is, now that his thirst is somewhat quenched, the need for his own orgasm increases.

“You’re gonna make me cum, y’know that?” Harry breathes against her skin, sucking one last gulp down before running his tongue over the bite.  He’ll properly heal her once she’s asleep, but for now, the venom will form a temporary seal over the bite.  And, honestly, Y/N appears to be too caught up in her own pleasure to notice the new mark on her neck. “Squeezing me so fucking tight...taking my cock like the good girl you are…”

Y/N’s head lulls back onto Harry’s shoulder, her hot breath panting in his ear as she begins to reach the point of overstimulation. “Please, Harry...want you to cum…”

“Yeah?” Harry pants roughly, licking his red-stained lips as his pelvis snaps against her. “You want me to cum for you?  Want me to--fucking--give you--Christ--”

Harry usually pulls out before cumming, but his orgasm crashes over him so suddenly that he doesn’t have the chance.  Instead, he buries himself to the hilt, throwing his head back in ecstasy, mouth wide open as a deep groan vibrates in his chest while thick ropes spill inside Y/N.

Even with his supernatural stamina, Harry is exhausted after he comes down from his high.  It takes him a moment to collect himself enough to pull out, exhales hot and heavy in Y/N’s ear as he gathers his thoughts for his next move.

“Where--” He pants between his words as he watches the girl’s eyes flutter. “D’you have a cloth, or…?”

“There’s some--some paper towels in the kitchen.” Y/N nods her head to the right, her own chest still heaving with exertion.

Harry nods quickly, sponging his stained lips to her shoulder before climbing down from the couch.  He hurriedly paces into the kitchen and locates the napkins, ripping off a few squares and wetting it under the sink before he returns.  

“Bend over.” He says again, but the tone of the phrase is entirely different than it was earlier.  He’s not desperate with thirst or lust anymore, but instead has settled into his role of providing aftercare.

Y/N, however, still has the same obedient reaction, and folds herself over the backrest of the couch, forehead braces against the cushions as Harry quickly but carefully cleans up the cum dripping from between her thighs.

“You’re so polite, y’know that?” She can’t help but giggle to herself, glimpsing back at him from between her parted legs. “Cleaning up the mess you made.”

Harry’s chuckle matches her own as he gives her one final wipe and a jesting smack to the ass, returning to toss the paper towel away. His voice carries from the other section of the flat. “S’only fair.  I was raised right.”

Y/N hums in her throat in response as she climbs down from the couch, soreness already beginning to settle into her limbs in the most delightful way.  She crosses her arms over her chest, still self-conscious despite Harry literally spreading her open only moments ago.

“Are you, um--” Her voice cracks, bringing a new wave of heat to her face as she clears her throat. “You can stay the night.  If you’d like.”

Harry, who has ducked back into the living room area and is reaching for his discarded top on her floor, raises an eyebrow as he picks up the pastel blue t-shirt and turns it right side out. The puppy drawing smiles up at him ironically. “Yeah?  You sure?”

“Yeah.” Y/N nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. He can see his teeth marked all across the silky skin. “It’s late.  And I normally like to have a bit of a cuddle with someone after they cum inside me.”

A surprised snort sounds from Harry’s chest. “I suppose I can’t refuse that.” He says in understanding entertainment, holding out his tee to her as an offering. “Here.  If you’d like to cover yourself…”

Y/N accepts the article gratefully, pulling it over her exposed body.  The shirt falls just past her bum, covering her enough that she can let her arms drop to her sides. She likes the way his clothes fit her. “Thank you.  Do you want something to sleep in...?”

“I prefer going bare, actually.” Harry says in a cheeky tone, running a jeweled hand through his sex-mussed curls as he smirks. “Much more comfortable.”

Y/N laughs quietly, shaking her head in half disbelief, half amusement. “Of course you do.” She says with a roll of her eyes, holding out a hand for Harry to take. “C’mon, let’s go to bed.  I’m fucking exhausted.”

Harry sews his fingers between her own, replying with a cheeky squeeze and a smug tone. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” Y/N laughs again, but she doesn’t mind the cockiness behind Harry’s quip.  If anything, the banter reassures her.  She’d take a smug reply over awkward post-hookup silence any day.

And maybe if the lingering buzz from the alcohol wasn’t fogging her eyes, and maybe if the intense aftermath of endorphins wasn’t clouding her mind, and maybe if she wasn’t distracted by how strangely comfortable it feels to joke around with Harry, Y/N would have noticed. She would have noticed it the instant she took his hand within her own. She would have noticed it when she had stepped into the hallway and gently tugged him after her playfully, the dim lightning from the single lamp in the living room coffee table casting a shadow across his figure and over the handsome features on his face. Maybe, if it wasn’t for all of that, she would have noticed that the jade of his irises was long gone, replaced by an ominous red hue with the same dangerous glint that had been present at the bar. She would have noticed that this time around, it carried very different intentions.  She would have noticed how, after she climbed into her own bed after Harry, after he pulled her into his strong arms, and after she had laid her tired head onto his chest, that there was no heartbeat to greet her ears.  

But she doesn’t notice it.  And it only takes a moment for her eyes to drift shut in blissful ignorance, lulled by the sound of Harry’s breathing.  Only Harry’s breathing.

///

It takes fifteen minutes for Harry to realize that he didn’t really think this through.

At the moment, when Y/N asked him to stay over, and he was still high on his last orgasm and on the lingering taste of her blood along the arch of his tongue, it seemed like a good idea.  He could stay the night, he thought.  He, just like she had mentioned about herself, was fond of cuddling after sex, and it wasn’t often that he got to have that.  Perhaps it would be a nice way to cap off the night, he’d rationalized, and so he’d allowed the mortal girl to lead him to her bed for entirely innocent reasons (innocent only because they’d finished everything sinful in her living room).

And then Y/N fell asleep on Harry, and he remembered why he doesn’t ever spend the night at a one night stand’s place.

Harry is bored.

It’s not that Harry doesn’t sleep, because he does.  Stephanie Meyer got that wrong in those insipid books that have haunted Harry since 2008, but that wasn’t surprising, considering that Harry doesn’t sparkle in the sun, either.  Granted, if he steps into daylight without his lionhead ring, his skin will blister and burn until it falls off his body, but he won’t sparkle, and frankly, he’s offended that everyone thinks that he will.  He also can’t read minds, although he wouldn’t mind it if he could.  And he does need sleep.  Just not as often as a regular mortal.

With increased stamina means increased everything, including how long Harry can go without sleeping.  Although he slept more often when he was first turned out of habit, Harry finds that he can go two or three weeks, or even a month, without having to rest his body and mind.  And even when he does finally manage to fall into a peaceful state, it’s only for a few hours before he wakes up involuntarily.  It’s just as well.  He doesn’t like to be unaware for that long.  It’s in his nature to be alert, and he likes it that way.  And because he doesn’t need to spend eight hours unconscious every night, Harry finds that he gets a lot more done in his life.

Except now, when he’s stuck under the body of a fragile and depleted human.

When Harry falls into bed with a partner, he’s normally itching for them to fall asleep so he can sink his fangs into their necks and take what he wanted all along.  And then, after his thirst and libido are both satiated, Harry will climb out of bed, dress himself in whatever outfit he’d dragged himself to the club in, and make his way back to his condo before the sun begins to rise on the horizon. Simple as that.

But even he has to admit, he thinks as he ghosts his fingers down the barely healed mark on Y/N’s neck, that he’d gotten a little out of control tonight.  He’d been so carried away by her touch, her sensations, her scent, that he’d lost his usual patience and bit her mid thrust.  Thankfully, Y/N had been too caught up in her own orgasm to notice, and while Harry couldn’t deny that the heightened pleasure of her blood rolling down his throat as he slid his cock in and out of her hot cunt is something he thinks he’ll remember for eons, Harry knows that he was lucky to have gotten away with such a risky move.

Now that the young woman’s breath has completely evened out, Harry can evaluate the damage he’d done during his lapse in composure.  In all honesty, he’s relieved to find that it isn’t as messy as he had feared.  While he’s usually careful enough to make nearly surgical incisions into his partner’s flesh, he’d bitten Y/N with reckless abandon, too caught up in his pleasure to think about being neat.  However, when he finds that the messiest thing about the bite is the few smears of blood still staining her skin, the anxiety— which Harry hadn’t even known was curled around his stomach like a vice— slips away.  His venom had slowly begun to heal the bite mark already, but Harry knows that the only way it’ll be completely gone in the morning will be for Y/N to ingest his blood.

Allowing a human to ingest vampire blood was always a risk; after all, if they died with it in their systems, they would begin their second life a few mere hours after the first one ended.  Despite that contingency, Harry had always rationalized the decision by telling himself it was better than the alternative, which was draining the human until they were dead.  After all, a corpse doesn’t care about a few bite marks on their body.  The police, on the other hand, do care about that, which was reason enough for Harry to take the time to heal anyone he drinks from.  And, in all honesty, healing those he hurts is almost therapeutic for him.  It’s a reminder that, despite his leftover humanity being barely present, he still has some nonetheless.

It’s those thoughts that are flowing through Harry’s mind when he carefully shifts under Y/N, drawing his arm free enough that he can carefully brush the human’s hair away from her supple skin.  He leans down slowly, brushing his nose along the pulsing of Y/N’s neck before dragging his tongue along her warm skin.  The taste of the few lingering streaks of blood incite a new burn in the back of Harry’s throat, a reminder of the sweet elixir that runs through the mortal girl’s veins.  It takes all of Harry’s newly returned self-control to stop himself from creating a fresh bite next to the older one.  Bringing a jewelled hand to his mouth, Harry lightly pricks his index finger on one of his pronounced fangs, hardly feeling the breaking of his icy skin in his mouth.  He squeezes his finger tip with his thumb after pulling the digit from his teeth, watching with darkening eyes as a drop of midnight crimson blood beads on the end of his finger.  

Y/N’s mouth is partially open already, hot breath falling from her unconscious lips with every movement of her chest, but Harry still grips her chin between his thumb and forefinger gently, nudging down her jaw until he can see her tongue.  He pauses then, realizing how similar the sight is to how he had seen her an hour earlier.  The memory of Y/N on her knees as she begged Harry to fuck her mouth sends a rush of electricity down his spine, but he shakes his head free of the thoughts before he can get carried away.  He’d had his fun with the poor girl, he reminds himself, half wistful and half chastising.  He can’t allow himself to take anything more from her.  It’s his turn to give her something for all that she had gifted him.

With her mouth now fully open, Harry slowly slides his index finger along Y/N’s pink tongue, watching as his blood stains it red.  He releases her chin from his grip as he does so, dragging his fingers from her jaw to her hair.  Worrying that the mortal will begin to stir at the iron taste on her tongue, Harry figures that a soothing touch will be the best way to ensure that she’ll stay asleep.  Once his grip strays from her chin, however, Y/N’s mouth slowly drifts closed, enveloping his ringed index finger in her cushiony lips. He then feels a gentle yet constant suction that tells him that Y/N is sucking his finger, just as she sucked something else earlier, and Harry nearly loses what little sanity he has left.

There’s a voice in the back of his head telling him that he should shift away from Y/N.  If he had any more humanity, he’d peel away from her now, quickly dress himself in his abandoned clothes, and slip out her front door before she even notices.  If Harry had an ounce of selflessness, he’d do it.  But in this moment, all he can think about is how warm the young woman’s mouth is, how her smell is so sweet that Harry thinks he could get cavities just from inhaling her fragrance, and how fucking wonderful it feels to have her silky lips wrapped around his finger; it’s like even unconscious, her mind wants him as much as he wants her.

And so Harry stays in bed, listening to Y/N’s breathing, watching as the bite he gave her fades to a small bruise, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest tell him she’s deep in sleep in a way that Harry will never be again.  The thought nearly saddens the vampire when he finally manages to pull his finger from Y/N’s mouth, smudging an impulsive kiss at the corner before he can stop himself.  Harry remembers how lovely sleeping next to someone after sex felt when he was human.  Of course, he’d always found himself in the same position Y/N would come to find herself in the next morning, with mysterious bruises scattered along her skin. But that caveat side, Harry had rather enjoyed sleep when he was human.  And if he could sleep, then he would have something to distract himself from both the boredom of the quiet night and the gentle throbbing of his cock as Y/N shifts against him.

Harry’s eyes flit around Y/N’s room for the first time since she’d pulled him inside.  The area is small, but decorated in a way that makes it seem cozy rather than claustrophobic. Her bed is nudged into the corner against the wall, covered in a mis-matched set of plain olive green sheets and a paisley-printed comforter that suggests their appropriate accompaniments are between washes. The bed is stout and close to the ground, hunkered down in a red oak wooden frame that is sanded and scratched in some places, making Harry come to the conclusion that it was probably thrifted. He likes that; he’s a fan of thrifting himself, which might seem contradictory considering the borrowed t-shirt Y/N is currently inhabiting is a sixty dollar Marc Jacobs piece. But at certain times, it’s the truth. Second hand shops hold a lot of neat stuff that humans tend to take for granted; they call it trash, whereas Harry deems it vintage treasure.

The walls are built of large bricks, covered in glossy creme paint on two panels and a cool grey on the opposite sides. The entrance to the room is a frosted glass sliding door with wallpaper strips lining its edges, the print of the detailing being messy doodles of different colored eyeballs. It’s cute in an indie sort of way. It screams California newborn.

The roof is a popcorn ceiling and Harry nearly gags in utter disgust, but manages to stifle it. It’s not like she can control that— not everyone can compel themselves a bachelor pad the way he had— and she’s lucky to have even found an affordable apartment this decent, especially in such a popular city. And she decorated the space pretty well, he’ll give her that much. Lots of antique knick-knacks, a few picture frames of family and friends littered around random surfaces, and a tapestry of what appears to be a hilled valley during a sunrise extended across the largest wall. The colors of the sky in the image are a mixture of dark purples, drunken blues, mellow oranges, and buttery yellows, and Harry has conflicting feelings about the article. Bluntly put, tapestries are stupid in his eyes. They’re trashy and hipster, which he’s grown to despise. But the photo Y/N’s drapery depicts is calming and pretty, so he’ll let it slide. At least it’s not one of those godforsaken dream-catchers.

He cranes his attention further along the other side of the room, noticing there’s an entire wall of bookshelves, stacked to the brim with a wide variety of genres.  Harry’s eyes land on a few familiar titles, surprised by the contrast of topics lining the mantles, eyebrows raising in pleasant shock. He thinks that maybe the choices in novels can gain back the bit of respect he’d lost for her as a result of the tapestry and popcorn ceiling. He’ll think on it.

Y/N suddenly shifts against him again, and he’s reminded that he can’t get up to pick out a book.  His gaze flickers to the plant-lined window sill and then the small nightstand, searching for anything within his reach that could occupy him for the next few hours.  A halfway read novel discarded somewhere close, perhaps?  A magazine?  Some sort of video game system that he could play quietly until the sun rises?

It doesn’t take long for Harry’s search to come up empty.  Apparently, Y/N’s bedroom has a place for everything, and everything is in its place.  It’s no matter, Harry sighs to himself, wrapping his arms tighter around the girl sound asleep on his chest.  He’ll just have to count Y/N’s breaths and heartbeats until dawn.

///

When Y/N wakes up the next morning, she’s unsurprised to find two things: a stiffness in her limbs, and an empty bed.  

The former, she knows, is a sore reminder of the previous night’s activities, and how she’d allowed a complete stranger to use her however he wanted.  Blood rushes to her cheeks as the night comes back to her in flickers: how Harry had kissed her, how she’d begged him to fuck her mouth, how he’d worked her over until she couldn’t take it anymore.  If the aching in her thighs is proof enough, Y/N knows that it was some of the best sex she’s ever had, which may be why the latter observation of Harry already being gone sparks a new ache in her chest.

Still, Y/N didn’t expect anything different; although she’d asked the man to stay the night, he hadn’t promised her anything about the morning, and she can’t exactly blame him.  After all, a one night stand is just that: one night.  A morning is never promised.

After Y/N manages to climb out of bed with wobbly legs, she evaluates herself in the mirror hanging on the back of her closet door.  Her hair, of course, is a rat’s nest, and although she attempts to tame it with her fingers and a scrunchie from her bag on the floor, Y/N knows that it’ll take a long, steaming shower and lots of conditioner to detangle the mess.  A hot shower will probably be the only way to quell the throbbing of her muscles, she thinks, stepping closer to the mirror to examine her body.  At the sight of bruises littered along her skin when she pulls up Harry’s blue t-shirt, Y/N’s mouth falls open, and her eyes widen as she examines the purple marks.

There’s a few scattered along her hips and thighs, small little indigo dots that could easily double as fingerprints.  Y/N is certain that if Harry were here, his fingers would match the marks perfectly.  And now that her hair is up, Y/N spots a mark along her neck.  This bruise is much more pronounced than the others, and Y/N can almost make out the shape of individual teeth dotting the edge of the purple welt.  Through her alcohol-muddled memories, Y/N can remember a moment where Harry bit down on her neck as their orgasms washed over each other.  Remembering almost brings back that pleasure again, and the phantom feeling distracts her so much that she nearly misses the unmistakable sound of her kitchen cupboards opening.

By the time she pulls on a pair of cotton shorts to cover her bruised thighs and opens the sliding door of her bedroom, Harry’s already managed to figure out her coffee maker.  Standing in front of the counter with his bare back to her (Y/N does her best not to focus on it-- he’s all creamy skin and defined muscles, and if she thinks about it too much, she’ll go insane), Harry whistles quietly under the sound of the percolating beverage, his tattooed arms reaching for a mug from the cupboard.  Y/N watches as he picks out a blue mug she’d bought last year at Barnes & Noble, a small part of her secretly pleased that he chose her favourite out of all options.

“Good morning.” She says with a small smile, walking slowly (and a bit awkwardly) into the kitchen.

Harry’s whistling stops as he cranes his neck just enough to glance at her over his shoulder, his cheeks dimpling in greeting. “Morning, love.  How’d you sleep?”

“Really good, actually, but that’s to be expected, given how exhausted I was.” Y/N opens the fridge to retrieve her milk carton, setting it down on the counter next to the two mugs Harry has picked out. “What about you?”

The corner of Harry’s lips twitch once, and if Y/N hadn't already been gazing at his lips in want, she wouldn’t have caught the movement. “Like a baby.”

The beeping of the coffee pot interrupts the small conversation, and Harry reaches for it automatically, filling the two mugs with the freshly steaming liquid. “Do you take cream and sugar?”

Despite Y/N opening the cupboard above her, Harry manages to snag the sugar bowl before she can. “Milk and sugar, yeah.  And you don’t have to do that.” Y/N says, watching as Harry spoons sugar into a mug for her before grabbing the milk carton.

“I know I don’t have to, but I figured I should.” Harry gives a quick shrug of his shoulders as he lightens the drink with milk, leaving his own mug completely black. “Thought you might be a bit sore after last night.”

Harry can practically hear the blood rushing to Y/N’s cheeks, and the dull ache in the back of his jugular flares up as she reaches for her coffee mug, her smell washing over him as she moves closer.  He grasps his own mug, lifting it to his lips in an attempt to quell the thirst in him with a less satisfying alternative.

“I, um,” Y/N stutters over her words for a moment, taking a sip of the hot coffee as an excuse not to talk while she collects herself. “I’m a little sore, yeah.  But nothing too bad, and certainly not sore enough that I can’t make coffee.  Or breakfast.”

Harry pauses with his mug half raised to his strawberry lips. “Breakfast?”

“I could make us breakfast, if you’d like.” Y/N swallows hard, her throat thick as she speaks carefully. “I make pretty good pancakes.  Blueberry lemon.  My grandma taught me how to make them.”

“They sound delicious.” Harry takes another gulp of coffee, the high temperature not seeming to bother him in the slightest, before setting the half full cup back down on the counter. “But I should get going.”

“Oh, uh, right.” Y/N speaks in a tight voice, her head moving in a quick nod as she sets her own coffee down. “Yeah, you’re right.  I’ll, um, go change, so you can have your shirt back--”

“Why bother to go somewhere?  It’s not like it’s something I haven’t seen before.” A cheeky grin pastes itself onto Harry’s face, and Y/N fights back her embarrassment with a roll of her eyes.

“Shut up and give me a minute.”

By the time Y/N exits her room with the garment in hand and one of her favourite sweatshirts providing her with a bit of modesty, Harry is already waiting by the front door.  She hands him the article of clothing, trying to not let her eyes follow his every move as he slips the shirt over his toned chest and down his lean stomach, pulling his pearls and cross necklace out from beneath the fabric.

“Thanks.” He says, fixing his hair after he finishes adjusting the tee into the waistband of his slacks, shrugging his cropped blue and creme plaid jacket over his broad shoulders. “Your apartment is really cute, by the way.  I like the wallpaper decal on the sliding bedroom door.  And the colours all work really nice together.

“Uh, thanks?” Y/N says slowly, and the confusion must be apparent on her face because Harry once again has a grin on his face, like he’s the only one in on a secret.

“That’s why you invited me back here last night, remember?  To look at your apartment?” He prompts, leaning against the doorframe as he crosses his tattooed arms across his chest. “Unless that was all a ploy to get in my pants.”

“Maybe it was.” Y/N worries her bottom lip between her teeth to hold back the soft smile threatening its way onto her face. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Harry slinks his head to the side as he appraises the unsuspecting mortal in front of him.  Her messy hair that he’d tangled his fingers into the night before is pulled away from her heated face, exposing the healed bite mark on her neck.  Her lips are still a little swollen from how he tugged on them with his teeth, and Harry remembers how careful he had to force himself to be to make sure he didn’t break her skin.  Y/N shifts her weight from one foot to the other, and the movement is just awkward enough that Harry can tell she’s sore from how he bent her over the couch and fucked her, and he knows that it shouldn’t send a shiver of pleasure down his spine, but it does.  

“Yeah.  It worked.” He murmurs, reaching for the doorknob as he makes his final goodbye. “It was lovely meeting you, Y/N.  Really, it was.  I had a wonderful time.”

“So did I.” Y/N smiles shyly at him, a hint of wistfulness in her voice. “It was fun.”

Harry nods, and then he can’t stop nodding, and then before he knows what he’s doing, his mouth seems to move of his own accord. “You know, since I’m not taking you up on your offer for breakfast, would you allow me to give a counter offer?”

Y/N’s eyes perk up with curiosity as she responds in a careful voice. “Uh, sure?”

“Can I see your phone real quick?” Harry asks, holding out a ring-clad hand expectantly.

Y/N doesn’t hesitate before retrieving her phone from her sweater pocket, unlocking it and placing it in Harry’s cool hand as requested.  A small spark of hope ignites in her stomach as she watches him open her contacts.

“Here.” Harry says after a moment, handing her back the phone with a smile of satisfaction. “I put a disco ball next to my name.  Thought it fit, since we met at a club and all.”

“It does fit.” Y/N agrees as she looks down at the new contact in her phone. “And what exactly am I supposed to do with this?”

“Call it.  Text it.  Use it to let me know when you want more interior decorating advice.” Harry says snidely, watching with faint amusement as a sheepish look that washes across Y/N’s face. “Only if you want to, of course.”

“Of course.” Y/N repeats back to him, her voice matching his teasing tone. “I’ll see you around, Harry.”

Harry flashes her one more grin, his teeth seemingly glinting in the morning sunlight that shines through the window. “Yeah. You will.”

And as the vampire trots down the stairs of the human’s apartment complex, regaining the lighthearted whistling he’d been indulging earlier, he finds himself truly hoping that she’ll put his number to good use.  

[prozd]

Bones of the Forgotten

For those unaware, when I was 12 years old, I used to write very gritty Mario fanfiction.  The only reason this exists is because we hit a charity milestone for Extra Life (which by the way you can still donate to here: https://www.extra-life.org/participant/450294)

I decided to write the sort of fanfiction that 12 year old me would've enjoyed writing, so here is my love letter to my youth.

A question block can come in handy in a variety of ways.  You just gotta know how to scrap it down.  Easily done enough with a precision focus Fire Flower blowtorch.  The first thing you gotta do is realize there's nothing bringing that sonuvabitch down; those fuckers float in the air forever no matter how much you push or pull 'em.  Instead, you gotta carve off pieces from it as it's floating up there. Awkward at first, but by the fiftieth time, it's fucking clockwork.

Melt down the pieces and you've got the golden goo perfect for crafting all sorts of nasty tools.  A bat made from question block has just enough lightness for a easy swing, but just enough density to still effectively break a kneecap.  A blade still won't pierce, say, a Chain Chomp, but it can at least pierce most Koopa shells.  Plus, some people just like the gold color; they think it looks sick.

I personally think the best use of question block goo is making bullets out of it.  They're denser than most others and they maintain their speed for longer. The only downside is they stand out if you leave them in a body at a crime scene, but that's irrelevant as long as you're cleaning up your messes properly.  If anyone had the time and resources to search the bottom of the sea near Rogueport Docks, I imagine you'd find a glittering trove of golden bullets scattered among the bones of the forgotten.

One of those bullets dances idly through my fingers as I listen to one of my subordinates, a Craw with the quite frankly unfortunate name of Garf, lament about his recent mistreatment by the Syndicate.

"Ishnail, they just stomped the shit out of us!  Gus and I, we weren't doin' NOTHIN' and those leafy fucks attacked us.  Everyone knows the Plaza's neutral territory, we gotta DO somethin' about this."

Craws get a bad rap, in my opinion.  They get labeled as savage, but I've always found them to be much more thoughtful than people would assume.  Even in this moment, as my eyes gaze upon Garf's tattered, bloodied vest and bandana, and his curved beak squawks in rage, I notice the slightest trace of tears at the very edges of his eyes.  Aw.

"Let me ask you one question, Garf."  Out of respect, Garf immediately goes silent. Again, thoughtful.  "Were you and Gus carrying your spears?"

"I......I mean.....we have to, it's part of Craw culture...."

"I'm well aware, but Garf, I'm sure YOU'RE well aware that no weapons are allowed in the Plaza.  I mean, at the very least, keep a goddamn gun hidden in your pocket, don't wave a fucking SPEAR around.  You're just asking for the Piantas to give you a beating."

I get up from the dingy sofa I've been lounging on and dust myself off.  "But I can't have Don Pianta thinking it's okay to fuck up my guys.  I'll have to have a word with the ol' mustachioed fuck."  I pat Garf on the cheek and wipe a tear away with my thumb.  He nods in appreciation.

I motion to two of my subordinates, a scrappy looking Goomba named Goomfrey and a laidback Hammer Brother named Hamma.  We step outside HQ and into the bustling, grimy streets of Rogueport's east side.  

As long as I've lived in Rogueport, it's always carried the smell of the sea in the air.  It's a welcome scent to me, having grown up in the Seaside Kingdom.  My mom was a Bubblainian; she raised me when my deadbeat Koopa dad left us, and what she gave me was the snail shell on my back and a love for the water.  Merchants shouting and the occasional "STOP, THIEF!" ring out as my muscle and I make our way through the Plaza.  We pass the gallows where the Shadow Queen's corpse was supposedly hung from one thousand years ago.  Fittingly gruesome lore for a city filled with murderous rat-bastards.

A sickly sweet scent starts to mingle with the smell of the sea and garbage I'm used to. It's an indication that we're entering the west side of Rogueport. Sure, it's a much tidier area than where the Robbos and I live; there may be fancy-ass things like "flowers" and "benches," how hoity-toity.  You can put lipstick on a Li'l Oink, but it still smells like shit.

We walk into Westside Goods.  There's no need for the customary password; Peeka, the Boo shopkeeper, knows why I'm here.  She opens up the back door, and we walk up the stairs in the back alley to Don Pianta's office.

"Ishnail, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Don Pianta stands behind his desk; as much as I hate to admit it, his presence is overwhelming.  "And you brought friends, too?" he notes as he sees Goomfrey and Hamma.

If you want to live long in Rogueport, every time you enter a room, you have to mentally gauge 1. the quickest way to escape, 2. who you may need to disable and/or kill to escape, and 3. how easy that's all going to be.  Two giant yellow Pianta in suits stand guard at both sides of the Don's desk. A blue Pianta in a white suit, the Don's underboss Frankie, closes the door behind us.  

Piantas are not easy to injure, let alone kill; I know this from years of tangling with the Don's gang.  The little palm trees and skirts would make you think otherwise, but Piantas are naturally built like fucking dump trucks and hit just as hard.  Hamma's a Glitz Pit fighter, and I've seen what he can do with that hammer.  Goomfrey gets underestimated for his species, but his reputation precedes him; he has bitten off more fingers than your average Rogueportian.  Still, a fight against four Piantas, even with my question block bullets, would be brutal.  It's telling that you never see a Pianta with a weapon because nothing will kill you faster than simply their own fists.

"Your men attacked mine, Don.  And for what, carrying spears?  You and I both know that's bullshit."

"My men....have been on edge.  Your little Bandit friends have been scuttling around, picking too many pockets they shouldn't be.  Keep that shit on the East Side where it belongs, and we'll be fine."

As Don Pianta talks, he habitually cracks his knuckles.  Out of all the Piantas in the syndicate, Don Pianta is truly a mammoth; his muscles are barely contained by the suit he's wearing.  Honestly, if he wasn't my ultimate arch-nemesis in this town, shit, I'd fuck him.  I like my men beefy.

"Alright, Don.  I'll tell my boys to keep their weapons out of the plaza.  You and I both know no one benefits if we fight in the streets.  Bad business for both your establishments and mine.  Let's keep things quiet."

"Agreed," The Don extends a giant hand.  I shake it firmly.

I turn to leave with my muscle in tow.  As I open the door to leave, I hear a whisper.

"Get your slimy shell outta here, you fuck."

I pause.  I give Goomfrey the look, and he smirks.  Goomfrey's eyes quickly dart and I know he's already memorizing every little detail about the yellow Pianta who whispered the insult.  Without another word, I close the door behind me.

---

There's one more use for question block goo I forgot to mention.  It's perfect for weighing things down.  

I breathe in the salty seaport air; it's particularly sweet tonight.  The golden bullet dances between my fingers; I know it's a bad habit, but it's fun to fidget with.  It'll go to good use though.  I load it into my Fire Flower pistol with a few others and carefully attach the silencer.

"Now, listen, uh...what was his name again?"

"Paulie," says Goomfrey, standing to my side with a grin.

"That's right, Paulie.  I'm a pretty patient person, I think most people including your boss would agree, but I've got a real sore spot about the shell, ya know?  It's just, it reminds me of my dear old ma, and I love her to bits.  You understand, right?"

There is no response from Paulie due to his crushed windpipe courtesy of Hamma's hammer.  Quite frankly, I'm impressed he's still conscious from the pain.  He looks up at me from his crouching position eyes filled with hate, his hands and feet encased in reforged golden question blocks.  Piantas are heavy, so four blocks worth is safest.

"I did promise the dear Don that I'd keep things quiet, so let's cut to the chase." I point the gun at his forehead and before he can react, I fire three shots.  There's no need to prolong this shit; I'm not a sadist. Hamma and Goomfrey pick up the body and toss it off the port into the sea.

"For what it's worth, boss," says Hamma in a low, pleasant baritone.  "I like your shell.  Looks good on ya."

"Aww, thanks."