#you just can’t be that hot and also good at chess i’m sorry

[uvegotafastcar]

it is my personal belief and opinion that charles and carlos are both really bad at chess. they don’t know because they only play each other and they’re both horrible

[imsadstuff]

Loving You Is Red - A Jeon Jungkook Fic -Epilogue

Synopsis: Jeon Jungkook's name was unheard on the Formula 1 paddock till he got a chance to drive a Mercedes car as a reserve driver. His 2020 starts looking brighter as he signs with Ferrari and meets you, his team mates little sister. So many cliched tropes, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, dating brother's best friend, and most importantly Jeon Jungkook looks smoking hot in a Ferrari! Genre: Fluff, angst, slice of life and humor Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, my mother got hospitalized and I couldn't find the time to finish this. This took a lot of time and energy, so I hope you enjoy reading this. If you do please leave me a like or comment, please don't be a ghost reader! Word Count: 4.6k+ (I reccomend reading on a desktop if possible!) Warnings: Sexual themes, drinking, and just a whole lot of fluff.

Link to my masterlist if you want to check out my other stuff : here

Link to the main fic if you haven't read it yet here

AO3 link incase you prefer that: here

Race 14 Monaco Grand Prix 2029

“Cooking with your mother was disastrous. I couldn’t even chop properly and I’m sure I ruined her batch of kimchi but she was still super kind” you share as Jungkook chuckles in the car beside you.

“I promise you it isn’t as bad as it is in your head” Jungkook tries and reassure you as his hand intertwines with yours.

“And if she doesn’t invite you to make kimchi next year, we’ll know for sure” Jungkook says with a teasing tone and you swat his hand away as you simmer in last week's embarrassment.

“Ignoring the massive disaster, I was with your mother, how was fishing with my dad and Phillip. Phillip sent me a bunch of drunk texts saying how I was all grown up, did you say something weird?” you ask, turning to look at him and Jungkook brushes it off, taking a hold of your hand again.

“We were just talking about us dating for the first time and how young we were, that might have caused that” he says as he drives the car into the parking lot.

“Also, Phillip is a little shit who and told me that I shouldn’t go easy on your father, and to put it simply, I beat your father at chess and now I know where Phillip and you get the competitive gene from” he says as he unbuckles the seatbelt and you look at him all confused.

“What did my father do to you and what makes you think I’m competitive?” you ask with a pointed tone and Jungkook snickers, very sarcastically.

“Your father doesn’t ever want to play any games with me for the sake of our relationship and don’t you remember the Mario Kart incident? Because that remote almost hit me” he complains as he pulls you closer by your hand.

“Oh will you drop the Mario Kart incident, I was eating chips and my hands were all oily and I can’t believe you’re-” Jungkook shuts you up with a soft peck on your lips, followed by a deeper one as he bites your lower lip.

“Baby, I might be competitive but not as much as you.” you whisper against his lips and he chuckles, finally pulling away.

“That is true. Now come on, I gotta win this race!” Jungkook says and you snicker, he’s definitely more competitive.

“So, the first date was great, superb actually. We connected, there was this undeniable chemistry and why are you making that face?” Lando stops talking when he notices the dubious smile on your face.

“Did Lily tell you something else? Did she not have a good time? Oh my god is that why she hasn’t texted me since the last half an hour?” Lando is starting to panic and Jungkook and you share a knowing smile, getting a kick out of your friend's misery.

Lando and Lily hit it off at Jungkook’s last birthday dinner and Lando didn’t hesitate at all before asking her out.

“I just want it put in writing that you and Lily will not bother us with your relationship troubles” you say sternly as the three of you make way to the hospitality area. Lando moved to Ferrari about a year ago, Jungkook and him have been a great team. 

“Relationship, so she said something good, what did Lily say ___?” Lando asks with agitation and Jungkook giggles as his hand intertwines with yours.

“I’m sorry best friend, best friend privilege” you tease and Lando groans, only making Jungkook laugh louder. Lando isn’t the type to doubt himself when it comes to relationships, so this is quite amusing.

“Just chill my man, focus on the race for now” Jungkook says tapping Lando’s hand and he distractedly nods.

“Would you guys be up for brunch at my place tomorrow, a double date?” Lando asks reading something from his phone, probably a text from Lily.

“Sure-” “We can’t actually, we have a thing” Jungkook interrupts you, but you just tag along.

“Yeah we do, let’s plan for some other time” you say and Lando nods understandingly, before he walks off as he’s texting someone.

“We have a thing tomorrow?” you ask as the two of you slip into Jungkook’s driver room. Jungkook’s quiet for a second as he pulls off his polo, ready to slip into his driving suit.

“I was hoping we could spend the day decorating our apartment, we could build the bookshelves that are still in boxes” he says with a small smile as he takes a seat to get rid of his shoes. The two of you moved in together a few months ago but hadn’t gotten to decorating yet.

“Aren’t you such a romantic, but you and I both know I can’t be participating with building stuff, I broke my hand the last time and your very expensive coffee table” you say and Jungkook chuckles, pulling you in his lap.

“Counter offer, you sort the books in our guest room and I build the bookshelf, like the provider I am” he offers with a big smile as his arms circle around your waist.

“Are you sweet talking me into doing chores Jeon?” you ask in an accusing tone and he only laughs louder.

“Maybe,” he says, pecking your lips softly. “What about tonight? Are we doing your winner's dinner?” you ask, smiling against his lips.

“I am infuriated that I can’t eat icing off your tits tonight, I have a work dinner thing” he grumbles and you run your hands down his back.

“We can do winner’s breakfast instead, it’s all about improvising baby” you say in an attempt to lift his spirits.  “saranghae” you whisper looking in his big, brown eyes, you had started picking up a few Korean words here and there, dropping them casually and amusing Jungkook. “I love you” Jungkook says, pulling away to look you in the eyes. He takes a deep breath to really take in the moment.

The race started and ended quickly for Jungkook after reliability issues in lap 10. You sigh as you sit opposite your father, winning is important for Jungkook, it really it, but he’s also gotten great with compartmentalizing it.

“Too bad the car isn’t supporting him” you father says and you nod, watching on the tv’s as the camera’s follow Jungkook walking into the garage.

“At least he’ll get to rest during the summer break” you say, looking forward to the next few weeks of vacation.

“Where are you guys going?” your father asks as he turns to look at you. It wasn’t going to be a vacation per say.

“Jungkook bought a house in Busan, it’s by the ocean, kinda close to the one his family used to live in. We’ll leave Thursday, and just spend a few weeks there, I’ll work, he’ll train, just our usual days but in Busan” Jungkook had proposed this weeks ago, and you immediately agreed.

“Sounds romantic” your father says with a big, bright smile, “Jungkook really makes you happy doesn’t he” he continues talking, this isn’t a question but more like a statement.

“Life is better with him in it” you say as your eyes catch his across the room, immediately, you flash him a comforting smile and he mimics one too as he walks towards you.

“Next race will be better son” your father tells Jungkook as he takes a seat beside you.

“Hopefully we’ll be done with the engine issues” he sighs with frustration and your hand finds his, interlocking them immediately.

“Issues like these are so threatening to my championship chances, so utterly out of my hand” Jungkook voices his concerns and your father listens intently, knowing all about it.

“It so much worse because you can’t fix the issues and it threatens the team morale” your father says and Jungkook nods intensely. Soon, Namjoon comes over too, the three of them talking about the issues in length while you sit there quietly, while Jungkook rubs his thumb across your hand.

“You’re meeting is at around 8 at Blue Bay, and they’ve scheduled a post-race meeting at 6:30” Namjoon reminds Jungkook before he stands up to leave. Your father left earlier too, saying something about having dinner appointments.

“You’ve been awfully quiet” Jungkook says, turning around to look at you.

“I’m kinda tired” you say resting your head against his arm. Jungkook is really tempted to cancel his dinner thing and go home with you, but you talk him out of it.

“I promise I’ll call you if I don’t feel any better after dinner,” you tell him and he grumbles, bringing his arm around your waist.

“Did you get your test results back? I know you’re all weak because of deficiencies, that’s why your hands are always cold” Jungkook sits for a few more minutes, knowing full well the meeting is going to start any moment now.

“The doctor will call me when it’s done, just will you go and do your work. One of us needs to make shit load of money, we have expensive taste” you tease him in attempts to lighten the situation.

“Call me if you need anything-“ he says as he sneaks a quick peck on your lips, “or nothing, just call me” “I will” you reassure him with a soft pat on his cheek.

Jungkook isn’t a fan of talking one on one with reporters, but Namjoon assured him a couple thousand times and somehow made him agree to this dinner.

What he wasn’t expecting was an excited, senior writer for Vogue Korea, Jung Hoseok. They click immediately, talking endlessly about anything and everything under the sun.

“So, this is your ninth year at ferrari and you’ve decided to move to mercedes, what motivated the move?” Hoseok asks and Jungkook takes a big sip of his drink, this question is the reason this interview was set up. The move hasn’t been announced, yet.

“My years at ferrari have made me the champion I am, I won seven world championships with them but I’ve also felt a little stagnant in my career. The move is a way to challenge myself as a driver and also making a profitable move as a driver” Jungkook explains calmly and Hoseok scoffs.

“You’re so amazingly media trained, the answers are given by a PR person aren’t they” the reporter notes and Jungkook laughs out loud.

“My manager, he’s the reason I talk so well” Jungkook answers candidly.

“So, the move is not because of the reliability and strategy issues?” “Those reasons obviously played a part in the decision making. Ferrari has been struggling for the last two years since they changed their engine producer, and I wanted to stick with my team through the pain, but I’m not 20 anymore, I’m almost 30. I told my manager after the first three terrible races last year, ‘We’ll stick with them for a year, give them time to work out the kinks, they deserve patience from me, at least for a year’. But again, the since the start of this year, it hasn’t been that great, so after lengthy discussions with my manager, parents and girlfriend, I decided to make the move” Jungkook answers honestly, and Hoseok is a little stunned by it. They go on to discuss the move to mercedes more, talking about going back to where it all started.

“You don’t talk about your girlfriend much to the press or media, your relationship is extremely private even missing from each other’s social media, is there a reason for that?”

“I’ve kept my relationship with ___ private because the more public I make it, the more people feel like they have a say in the relationship. And I don’t want people’s opinions or thoughts guiding our relationship, and honestly, I can’t bear losing her again”

“This might be an odd question, but how do you think being in love has changed you?” this question sticks with Jungkook for a while, he thinks it over for a good few minutes.

“It has made me a much more, stronger, and confident person. I think being loved by someone you love endlessly is one of the most beautiful thing in the world. She doesn’t love me despite or because, she just loves me for being Jungkook and that’s, um, something that’s really helped me grow and change as a person for the better.” Jungkook sighs the more he thinks about you, he wonders if you are still feeling sick.

“Can I ask you a few more questions about your relationship? You can say no” Hoseok asks and Jungkook strangely encourages him. Most reporters he’s talked to are always looking for a scoop, this is the first time a reporter seems to be taking actual interest in him.  

“Were the two of you set up by your former teammate and now close friend Phillip Lee or did it just happen naturally?”

“Phillip didn’t even know we’d been dating till we broke up” Jungkook says and chuckles, thinking back to the before the first race of 2021, Phillip literally cornered him in his drivers room and asked him what was wrong with him.

“Back in 2020, there weren’t a lot of people my age on the paddock. I really needed a friend, so I reached out to ___. We were friends for a good few months before I realised, I was in love with her. Luckily, she felt the same way” Jungkook has the widest smile as he thinks back, just makes him realise how much time has passed.

“You talk of a break up, did it affect you as a driver?” Hoseok asks as he sits up straight.

“As much as I hate admitting it, it did, I’m human after all. What’s going on in my personal life usually doesn’t affect me as a driver because I’m great at compartmentalizing, but losing someone I love, so abruptly, and especially when I couldn’t do anything to stop to let her slip away, it frustrated me to no end and it affected my performance as a driver, initially at least” Jungkook confesses and the reporter passes him an encouraging smile.

“The two of you have been dating for four years-“ “Five in total” Jungkook corrects him and the two of them chuckle out loud. “The two of you have been dating for five years now, does the future of your relationship affect your future as a driver? To bring up Phillip again, he retired a few months after his first son was born and has been living a quiet life away from F1 since, do you see yourself going down that road too? Putting your relationship and family ahead of anything by your mid-thirties?”

“Just last week I was facetiming Phillip, and he was building a dollhouse, surrounded by his kids. Phillip was obviously, very happy as a f1 driver, but being a father has made him content like never before. I don’t know what it’s going to be like with us, but I know ___ and I will come to a decision that’s best for the two of us”

“Talking of retirement, what do you see yourself filling time with when retired?” Hoseok asks, relaxing a little as he sits back in the chair.

“Sometime during early 2019, I knew I didn’t have a contract for the next year so my sister and I really started thinking of plan b’s outside of racing, and we narrowed down on the option of me going to college and taking the traditional route. I have always wondered, what would life be right now if things didn’t end up the way they did, and even though I was and am ecstatic that I landed in ferrari back then. I would like to take the college route too, see how it shapes my future. I really enjoyed being a student, and I think I’d enjoy going back to it. My girlfriend also thinking that I can sing pretty well and be a musician, but I think love has made her a little delusional” Jungkook jokes about the last part, making the reporter laugh too.

“To tie up the interview, this is your last year with ferrari, last year to win the championship in red. Endings are usually the time one gets reflective, how do you reflect back at the last eight years?”

“I look back and I’m filled with gratitude, so much gratitude. I am sure you’ve seen the video from my first karting championship win, an interviewer asking me what my dream f1 team would be, I remember saying ferrari with that excited high-pitched voice. I truly did want to drive for ferrari but at the same time as I made my way through F3 and F2, the dream started looking unattainable. Just minutes before I sighed the ferrari contract, ___ congratulated me on signing with ferrari, that’s when it really sunk in. I went into my hotel room and cried because of how overwhelmed and excited I was to be achieving a lifelong dream. My time at ferrari has shaped me into the man and driver I am, the ups, downs, agreements and disagreements have taught me so many invaluable lessons. I met the love of my life, got the opportunity to work with some of the most amazing people, won seven world championships, all because of my time at ferrari, and I truly know it in my heart that none of it would have happened if things didn’t go exactly as they did.”

Jungkook made a bet with himself, if he found you asleep on the sofa with your glasses still on and aggressively clutching a book, he’d buy you flowers tomorrow morning. He would have even if he lost the bet. But he audibly awes when he does win the bet, he’s found you like this a few thousand times, but it always endears him somehow. Jungkook quietly takes off your glasses and puts the book away. Crouching down, his eyes level with your tightly shut ones, softly, he grazes your face.

“You really hate falling asleep in our bed all by yourself, don’t you” he says to himself as he pushes some of your hair away from your face. Jungkook doesn’t struggle one bit when he picks you up bridal style, and lays you on the bed. He notices how your hand instinctively reached for his, holding onto him tightly.

Jungkook’s exhausted from the race and the day he’s had, all he wants to do is lay down and get some shut eye, but he sits by the you for a few too long, afraid him moving is going to wake you up. But he does eventually pry his hands out of your grip and jump into the quickest shower of his life.

“When did you get home?” you ask turning to face Jungkook as he dries his hair with a towel.

“20 minutes ago?” he says abandoning the towel and picking up the hair dryer now that you’ve up.

“How did the interview go?” you ask as you sit up to drink some water.

“Surprisingly well, I talked about you. A lot” he says from the dressing table and you give him a quizzical look.

“Why?” you ask as your eyes follow him around the room. Jungkook just smiles and looks away as he shuts the hair dryer off.

“He asked the right questions” Jungkook says massaging his torso as he walks to bed, he takes slides into bed, leaning in for a quick kiss.

“___” he whispers your name against your lips and you sigh, running your hands through his hair.

“I am so looking forward to summer break, just you and I relaxing. Maybe if you feel like it, we take a dip in the ocean or you watch me swim in the ocean. I could do a slutty Baywatch style walk for you-“ you shut Jungkook up by sliding into his lap.

“You ramble when you’re tired” you note with speed as you lean down to kiss him, fiercely, leaving Jungkook a little breathless. In the middle of making out, your hands travel to his chest, hoping to tug off his t-shirt when you notice something.

“Why is your heart beating like crazy” you ask noticing his erratic heartbeat. His lips flatter to a shy smile as realisation dawns on the two of you.

“Oh my god, Jungkook you’re going to make me cry” you say cradling his cheeks and he grumbles pulling you closer.

“I’m sure your heart beats for me like that too” he says reaching for your chest under the t-shirt.

“Babe, you’re just grabbing my tit” you note sarcastically as his finger grazes your hard nipple.

“I can’t help if your heart is behind your tit” he teases you, tugging on your nipple and getting the exact kind of moan from you.

“But really, it does. Even if my words and actions are lacking sometimes, my love for you grows each day” the tender words catch Jungkook a little off guard, not that you aren’t vocal about it, maybe he really needed this kind of confirmation from you today

Soft sunlight is peeking through the curtains, illuminating your face. Turning around to avoid the sunlight, you snuggle even closer to Jungkook, nuzzling in his chest. Jungkook’s been awake for a few minutes now, but he isn’t ready to let go of you yet. His alarm goes off, and he struggles to turn it off, but he does.

“Babe, I really need to go, Namjoon hyung is probably waiting for me downstairs” he grumbles but at the same time doesn’t let go of you. Training is intense as a F1 driver, and Jungkook takes it seriously.

“Kook is summer break” you complain as he detaches himself from you. He chuckles as you continue to whine as he gets dressed as quickly as he can.

“I promise I’ll pick up breakfast on my way,” Jungkook says mid brushing his teeth. Wiping off his face, he changes into a fresh set of clothes, ready to be out the door.

“You stay put, I’ll be back in forty minutes and we’ll resume the activities of last night” Jungkook insinuates as you turn around in bed to face him. There are butterflies in your stomach just thinking about last night, and they only intensify as he holds your jaw tight as he kisses you, tugging on your lip.

Jungkook feels giddy as he makes his way to Namjoon, continuing to stretch as he walks over to his hyung.

“I’m thinking we go by the church today-“ “I think I’m going to propose to ___” Jungkook interrupts him and Namjoon looks at him dumb founded.

“Um, that’s wonderful. The two of you are really-“ “Yeah, I know we’re pretty darn cute, but I’m thinking about proposing today, more accurately by breakfast” Jungkook says very calmly as Jungkook continues to stretch.

“Okay, so, um-“ “I have had the ring for a few months now and I was looking for the perfect time, and I thought I’d do it while we were in Busan but I don’t think I can wait any longer.” Jungkook says, taking a deep breath.

“This morning, I was looking at ___’s left hand, and I just knew, I had to propose right away. It just feels like the right moment” Jungkook explains and the panic is starting to build, panic mixed with a shit ton of excitement.

“I don’t know if we’d be here if I didn’t advise you to break up with ___, but I’m glad we’re here” Namjoon says patting Jungkook’s arm.

“Hyung you gotta stop beating yourself up about that,” “I know, but I am seriously, so happy for you and ___” Namjoon says and Jungkook smiles widely.

“I know, now I gotta get going with breakfast and flowers before ___ wakes up” Jungkook says running a hand through his hair, it’s a nervous tick. “Remember to set up a camera, you’ll want pictures”

Jungkook hears the shower turn off as he plates the breakfast Most people would want a grand proposal, but Jungkook knows you’ll want a private, lowkey one more. He knows you’ll want to cherish this moment, without a crowd and attention around. He fixes the flowers as you step out the washroom, drying your hair as you walk across the room. Jungkook knows you aren’t going to dry your hair right away, no matter how many times he asks you to, he knows you’re going to be walking into the living room any moment now.

“Jungkook, are you back already?” you shout from the room, hearing some noises come from the kitchen.

“Yeah, I cut the run short, come out here” he yells, locating the ring. Before you can reply, your phone rings and you pick it up immediately.

“Um, okay” you reply to the call as Jungkook checks the camera, making sure it’s recording.

“Yeah, 1 pm works for us, we’ll be there” you reply as Jungkook calls out for you again.

“Alright, I’ll see you later” you mutter turns to walk towards the living room, and realising,

Jungkook’s waiting for you, on a knee. You mutter a oh my god as realisation sets in, Jungkook anxiously bites his lip, waiting for you to say something. The silence is starting to eat Jungkook, he’s starting to regret this, you’re going to say yes, right?

“I feel amazing each morning I get to wake up next to you, and a few months back, I decided I wanted a lifetime of it. I was waiting for the right moment; I came so close to asking you after we finished that trek in Australia. It was perfect, the view, the feeling, but I knew you would never forgive me for proposing me while you were all sweaty” he jokes and you giggle, the tears starting to form in your eyes.

“Then I thought, I’d do it in Busan, I even got a planner and everything but something changed this morning. Your hand reached for mine, like it does every morning. I felt your ring finger, and I just knew I couldn’t wait any longer.” Jungkook’s a little teary eyed too as his hand swiftly open the velvet box, revealing the ring, and you gasp, like you weren’t expecting it.

“Will you marry me ___?” Jungkook feels a little breathless he finally asks the question. The smile on your face widens like you’re going to say yes to him, but Jungkook is absolutely shocked by what you say next.

“I’m pregnant. We’re pregnant!” you say and the color completely drains from Jungkook’s face as you pull him up. “What?” his voice is barely audible as he asks you that. “The, um, doctor just called, the tests they ran last week. Turns out I don’t have any deficiencies, turns out I’m pregnant” you retell the events of the phone call and he gasps with shock.

“Oh my god, we’re going to have a fucking baby!” Jungkook shouts with excitement as he pulls you close for a kiss, and a few more.

"um, yeah the doctor asked if we could go in for the first sonogram today afternoon, that's fine right? You don't have anything planned right?" you ask as you pull away from him a little, Jungkook wants to hug you tight, like he wants to let you know just how intensely he's feeling, but he doesn't.

"___, we're having a baby, nothing is more important than you and the baby" he says running a hand through your hair, sensing some tension from you.

The two of you just stand in each other's embrace for a while, letting the moment soak in.

“Wait, um, you didn’t give me an answer” Jungkook asks as his forehead leans against yours.

“Yes, Jungkook. Of course, I want to marry you. I want to be your wife for the rest of my life” you say and he slips on the ring.

People always assume that the fairy-tale ends when the couple gets married. But for the two of you, the fairy tale is always going to be on going. It’s going to keep going through every date night, every quiet morning, every small moment with your child, it’s going to be forever going. The love you two have for each other is forever going.

Tag List: @blancflms @nadzzzblog @kookiewhtaee @jksoftiitii @oiseul @elisaaru @coralmusicblaze @tearyjjeonn @moonchild1 @jungkooksseuphoria @cookysstuff @ohyeahjk @bobakkoo @whoa-jo @kooromiwrld @littlelandalp @marvelover3000

[inkdragon1900]

K I actually want to talk about it. What’s with the white favoritism around Lestat?

Like I’m new here. Started watching the show last month. Like I love him obviously he’s a glorious toxic bastard. (Check my blog ie Aaravos from tdp and Ianthe from TLT)

But there’s like…this woobification vibe that some of yall in the fandom have.

And this isn’t about posts like “my babygirl is innocent.” Or “free my man. He was in a silly mood.” Cause like I get it. That’s just me with Armand. (Free my man he did all of it. But you’re honor he’s my wife)

But like…I’m AWARE of Armand’s whole deal. I’m not like “but he’s not that manipulative.” Gurl it’s why I’m into him. He’s a hot fictional bisexual vampire who manipulates like a woman playing 4d chess.

But these freaking takes like “just wait until Lestat can tell the full truth.”

Like I’m sorry but if the white man gets his turn with the talking stick and we get the story from his point of view and the writers make it objectively more factual then 3 freaking POC abuse victims I’m literally out and will not be tuning back in.

And like this is not my first rodeo in a fandom that has an issue with this.

Same problem in the Arcane fandom with the complete disregard and or needless hate over the POC character; Mel, Jayce, Sevika, Ambessa, and yes I have also seen a shit ton of Caitlyn hate or erasure of her being mixed race) and weird micro aggressions about Ekko.

Meanwhile Jinx, Silco, Vander, Viktor, and Vi are Fandom favs.

And the woobification off actually well done mental health struggles. Acting like Jinx’s BPD symptoms wouldn’t have happened if Vi had been a better sister. Or that Viktor is an UwU baby who can’t take care of himself. Bitch he’s disabled he’s not an infant.

And I’m seeing sooooo much of this with these Lestat takes. And as a fellow white person I do genuinely feel the need to call this shit out when I see it.

This like belief that Louis is dragging Lestat’s good name through the mud talking about his abuse and his experiences. Like I’m sorry but during season one I think Louis was a bit too nice about some of that shit Lestat pulled.

Then acting like Armand is some mustache twirling villain getting between Louis and Lestat’s great love??? And all he’s done is exhibit similar fear of loneliness as Lestat and all the manipulation that comes with that???

I’ll tell you what I still haven’t seen Armand do. Beat Louis to a pulp in front of their child then drag him by the chin leaving a literal trail of blood behind. Then draining him and dropping him from miles above the ground.

And I’m what just supposed to disregard all of Claudia’s diaries as well??

Cause I’m all here for the narrative already painted “that memory is a monster.” That we’re all slaves to our memory’s and that truth lies at the abstract of feeling and unclaimed in the middle of a multi perspective story.

It’s what makes this a great show.

Like yes please give me Lestat’s perspective I’d love to be able to see him fleshed out some more. But not at the expense that every single character be made a conniving liar.

[crimsonshadesblog]

39, 39, 39!!!!

Do you want three separate ones?

Okay.

1.

“Gardez.” Djeeta blinks. She finds herself in the white void again, face to face with the last person she wants to see. “What?” Belial’s lips curve into a lazy little smile. In front of him sits a small table holding a half-played game of chess. She’s not good at chess, but it looks like the black pieces, Belial’s side, is winning. “That’s what you say when the Queen is about to get taken out. Really now, Singularity, you should go ahead and go a round with me already.” She narrows her eyes. “In chess,” he adds, smiling innocently.

2.

“Can I touch it?” “Knock yourself out.” He visibly bites back a laugh, but considering the state she’s in, he simply leans his head down a little for her to run her fingers through the now blue mop. It feels the way it always does. Still, there’s something different. It’s almost like she can feel the energy, not with her fingers, but sense it with something else. It’s an almost electric feeling. Deeply in thought, she continues running her fingers through his hair. Maybe something about this will help her figure out what she needs to do. Something about it does remind her of those times she connected to the boundary herself, after all. It’s so close, she can almost taste the power on her tongue, yet it remains firmly and tantalizingly just out of reach. “When did you first learn that you can do that?” “Hmm,” he makes and she watches his eyes briefly dart upwards before he shuts them and furrows his brows as he thinks. “I honestly can’t tell you. It’s been way too long. I’m sorry,” he adds with a little smile. While she can’t say whether he genuinely can’t remember or just doesn’t want to recall, he seems genuinely apologetic, so she slides her hands out of his hair to cup his face and he leans in. Instead of kissing her, like she hoped, he simply bumps their foreheads together. There’s a tiny spark when he does, like static electricity, but not quite as harsh. In fact, it feels eerily similar to the kind of spark she often feels when kissing him and the thought that, on some level, he’s always connected to the boundary is just really disheartening. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,” he says when he notices her shoulders sag. “I really wish I could tell you anything useful. Or heck, if there was a shortcut or a key to magically unlock it, I’d give it to you in a heartbeat. But if there is someone out there who can figure out how to do it, it’s you. I believe in you and I’m with you every step of the way.” It’s hard to stay disheartened like that.

3.

Anre orders a hot tea and after a moment of hesitation, Seofon does the same. A few more moments of silence follow, the only sounds coming from the downpour outside until their orders are placed in front of them and finally, just as Anre wraps his hands around his cup and enjoys the feeling of steam against his face, Seofon speaks up. “So, what did you call me out here for, then? Got another recruit for your little club?” “I have not, no. I am currently investigating several leads, but as of now have not turned up anyone besides Tweyen. So for the moment there are only three of us. Have you discovered anyone you would consider a suitable candidate?” “Who knows.” Seofon leans back in his chair, arms crossed in front of his chest and offers his trademark humorless smile. Ah well. That response was to be expected. “That is unfortunate, but no matter. I have requested your presence here today because I would like to ask for your help regarding something else.” He lets his companion wear his quizzical expression for a bit longer as he takes a long sip of his hot tea to warm up his bones. Truly, few feelings can beat that of a hot drink on a rainy day. The true magnificence of life lies within enjoyment of the little things. There is also undeniably delight to be had in making Seofon wait a few more moments.

[iheartchv]

Hey I was hoping I could get a cod matchup? Sorry in advance for the yapping

Umm as for appearance I am 5’4” in my early twenties. I have layered curly brown hair that comes to just above my shoulder, blue eyes, freckles pale as hell, a few scars here and there that I’m kinda proud of (from various causes) I don’t really have a specific style it can range from a tank top and sweats to t-shirt and jeans or something completely wild, color coded decked out in jewelry, skirts, layers the whole bit. Relatively active build, used to be a gymnast until an injury now I just workout twice a week w a friend. Interests; I like movies top five rn probably Scream (1996), Spiderverse, 10 things I hate about you, the last unicorn, Dead poets society, +Star Wars cause I can’t leave it out. I like playing chess every now and then, I’d say I’m pretty good but I still have a ways to go. I’m also an artist, and I like music I can’t do anything music related I just like listening to it, all kinds. I like baking when I’m stressed, typically cookies during finals week at 2 am. My future prospects, or at least what they are currently, is just going to law school, after that I’m not really sure, I’ve thought ab going the military route, both of my parents served/are serving, so I’ve thought ab the possibility of being a military JAG or something in Intel, but I’m still feeling for it, I mostly like law cause I’m pretty good at it and I like knowing more than people. I’m Bi so my taste in Men/Women varies. As much as I’d like to say I don’t have a type, hot people are hot, there have been patterns in the past few fictional guys. Tbh my taste in men is shit, like I don’t have daddy issues, I have a great relationship with him, but my past fictional crushes say other wise. But basically, capability is HOT, if they’re good at something to the point of mastering it I’m entranced. Women are just pretty, there’s not much there. I’m relatively paranoid, even describing myself like this online is strange, I think it’s just growing up around military but I’m typically just cautious. That and trust issues. I’ve done some martial arts/self defense and I think sparring is really fun I just need someone to teach me. Also I am a huge simp (with shit taste as my friends say) I’m an ambiavert, so I like to be pretty adaptable depending on who I’m around. I’m also German/American but definitely more American than anything else, I ‘grew up’ in south Germany and we still have family there but since we moved here I’ve forgotten most of  the language. JFC in hindsight I am SO SORRY about all this I got carried away. I hope it didn’t come across as self absorbed 😭😅 thanks 

Sorry again 

🤔 I'll pair you with...

Captain John Price 🚬

Price might be the one to fall for you

If you ever decide/decided to join the military, him and Laswell will look through files and find you

He can't help but feel that you would bring something to the table

Recruiting you, along with many others, he'd be watching you

Through the tests, he'd be silently hoping you'd pass

When he asks to see you, you think you've done something wrong

Instead he just tells you that you've done a good job with all the training and tests he's put you through

"I admit, I thought you would call it quits anytime soon... but... you're determination surprised me."

"You've got guts, spirit. I like that"

He wants to take you under his wing and train you

He was right about you; there was something special there

Though he didn't know just how special you would be to him later on 🤭

After many months and near death experiences later, he'd come to realize he cares about you... a lot

💞

When off duty, he will take you somewhere to talk

Price doesn't play games, you know that

So... he tells you that he really likes you

All this time he'd spent getting to know you, he felt something he hadn't in a long time

One time, when he looked like he was about to fall asleep he was surprised that you showed so much concern for him; You wanted to do something, anything, for him

His hand gently held yours, showing how gentle he can be

"If you'll have me, love, I can make you happy... even if it takes my whole life to"

[paperandhis-paper]

Arc-V Month Day 13: Abyss Beneath a Smile

A bit behind, but I have a reason for this. And that's I promised to talk about this bastard:

Aaand I spent all of yesterday unable to come up what I wanted to say. It just be like that sometimes. In fairness, part of the reason for that is that Roget is far from the deepest villain. He’s a simple, but really fun antagonist you love to hate. And sometimes, that’s all you need.

From the moment the Lancers arrive in the Synchro Dimension, he seems untouchable, smugly manipulating everyone from his place of control while the main cast is down in the City suffering. This combined with all the nasty shit he pulls makes you wanna see him go down, and boy does Arc-V deliver in that front. His VA nails his breakdown perfectly, that “SERGEY” scream lives rent-free in my mind.

He’s also a type of villain I personally adore, which is the Smug Snake who thinks they’re hot shit, but is actually pathetic in the grand scheme of things. His ���grand scheme” of controlling one city is called out by Reiji to be pathetic, and despite all his boasting, he’s always scared shitless of Yuri and of Academia, capturing Yuzu and Serena simply as a chip to trade in case he needs to save his sorry-ass. 

Control is his whole thing, shown through the recurring chess motifs and his brainwashing of Security, Sergey (sorta), and attempted brainwashing of Yuya. And I love how, once the Commons start rioting, he and Yuya’s plan are, at a glance, the same. He wants to, via Sergey, defeat Jack and unite the city… difference being that he wants to crush the city’s dreams to have them united under his control, whereas Yuya wants to bring everyone together smiling. It’s such a cool little set-up, having both the villain and hero seek the same goal, but in such different ways.

Speaking of Sergey, let me talk a bit about him. I’ll admit, when I first learned Sergey would duel Jack I thought it was random and lame that a Legacy Character would defeat the Big Bad (or his proxy, in this case). Especially when everything seems set-up to have Yuya get revenge for what he did to Yuzu, standard Shonen stuff. Instead, they made the decision of having Sergey BEAT Yuya (admittedly, Barret did most of the damage, through his lame “you can’t play Yugioh” traps, but that’s besides the point) and have Jack be the one to defeat him. But while I’m sure some edgy side of the fanbase would've loved to have seen Awakened Yuya beat his ass, I feel it works because through their duel Jack shows that even terrible people like Sergey can be reached, hence why he rejects Roget’s control and stops grabbing Action Cards (a good use of Action Cards post-Standard, who would’ve thunk?). It also hammers the point that Yuya, despite being the protagonist, isn’t your standard Shonen hero whose role is to defeat the bad guy, but to inspire others and be the one who brings everyone’s strength together.

Anyways, TL:DR evil French bastard fun too root against, but also certified pathetic manfailure.

@arcvmonth

[mistydeyes]

Hey I was hoping I could get a cod pairing? Sorry I haven’t done this before.

Umm as for appearance I am 5’4” I have layered curly brown hair that comes to just above my shoulder, blue eyes, freckles pale as hell, a few scars here and there that I’m kinda proud of (from various causes) I don’t really have a specific style it can range from a tank top and sweats to t-shirt and jeans or something completely wild, color coded decked out in jewelry, skirts, layers the whole bit. Relatively active build, used to be a gymnast until an injury now I just workout twice a week w a friend. Interests; I like movies top five rn probably Scream (1996), Spiderverse, 10 things I hate about you, the last unicorn, Dead poets society, +Star Wars cause I can’t leave it out. I like playing chess every now and then, I’d say I’m pretty good but I still have a ways to go. I’m also an artist, and I like music I can’t do anything music related I just like listening to it, all kinds. I like baking when I’m stressed, typically cookies during finals week at 2 am. My future prospects, or at least what they are currently, is just going to law school, after that I’m not really sure, I’ve thought ab going the military route, both of my parents served/are serving, so I’ve thought ab the possibility of being a military JAG or something in Intel, but I’m still feeling for it, I mostly like law cause I’m pretty good at it and I like knowing more than people. I’m Bi so my taste in Men/Women varies. As much as I’d like to say I don’t have a type, hot people are hot, there have been patterns in the past few fictional guys. Tbh my taste in men is shit, like I don’t have daddy issues, I have a great relationship with him, but my past fictional crushes say other wise. But basically, capability is HOT, if they’re good at something to the point of mastering it I’m entranced. Women are just pretty, there’s not much there. I’m relatively paranoid, even describing myself like this online is strange, I think it’s just growing up around military but I’m typically just cautious. That and trust issues. I’ve done some martial arts/self defense and I think sparring is really fun I just need someone to teach me. Also I am a huge simp (with shit taste as my friends say) I’m an ambiavert, so I like to be pretty adaptable depending on who I’m around. I’m also German/American but more American than anything else, I ‘grew up’ in south Germany and we still have family there but since we moved here I’ve forgotten most of it. JFC in hindsight I am SO SORRY about all this I got carried away. I hope it didn’t come across as self absorbed 😅😭 sorry again

thanks

John Price

a/n omg at one point of time i thought of going to law school instead of pharmacy so this was so interesting to see what could've been lol

How you met: Civilian as of rn ;) Here you stood, a second year of law school done and accepted into the US Army Judge Advocate General's Corps. Or I guess I should say, here you were physically but not mentally. When you applied from your cozy apartment, you hadn't expected the internship program to be such a challenge. But here you were in your second choice location of Washington DC (curse whoever got the Germany placement). It was your second day and you were already tired from the 6am wakeup time followed by whatever your trainer saw fit. Today was a grueling 4-mile run. Needless to say, you were exhausted by the time you entered the Military Justice office. As you entered, your attorney joked, "you look like hell." You rolled your eyes and tried to smooth out your hair. "Here take a break and make some copies for us," as he handed you a pile of papers. You looked and saw they were drafts for an attorney's prosecution memoranda. You left to make your way to the copier when you bumped head first into something. As you looked up, you realized it was a someone. Somehow this man had miraculously caught all your papers. "Sorry love, perhaps you could tell me where I would find a General Shepherd's office?" he asked in an enchanting, deep accent. You could feel the air fill with cigar smoke with each word. You silently pointed in the direction of the office and the man went on his way. "It gets easier, soldier, someday you'll be an officer," he called out and you smiled as you got up from the floor.

A peek into your relationship: This was the big day, your graduation from law school. Your time during your internship had paid off, many officers impressed by your ability to keep up with the trainings and your eloquent legal drafts. You sat in your seat nervously and twirled a loose curl as they prepared to call your name. Finally, it was time. As you walked on stage and prepared to get your hood, you could instantly hear your boyfriend cheering you on loudly. "That's my girl!" he shouted and you gave him a kiss from the stage, finally a lawyer. When the ceremony had finished, Price was the first one to greet you. He had dressed in a suit for the occasion but this didn't deter him from picking you up and spinning you around. "I'm so proud of you," he said before planting a soft kiss on your lips.

[maximoff-pan]

giaaaaaa, I saw your last riddler hc and it got me thinking…what do you think eddie would be like in bed? 😏

Hmmm, I don’t really do nsfw stuff too often (really ever) but I guess I can attempt some spice 🌶 (please don’t hate me; I’m sorry if this sucks)

pairing: edward nashton x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw under the cut

I know my blog is known for my sfw writings, so if this is not for you, please skip passed it, I really don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable

I’m a firm believer that when you guys start dating, Eddie is fairly inexperienced with women. This doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a virgin, he’s just a little awkward from time to time, but he’s so willing to learn how to please you

And boy is he a quick learner

It took a little while for the both of you to feel comfortable in your relationship to take it to the next level (intimacy and trust issues and all the fun stuff), but once it does happen, he wants it all the time

He totally calls it making love the first few times, getting all nervous and jittery but also super excited

But as he gets more confident, he’ll start saying things to you that have you like ???

Like, you’ll be making out lazily on your couch one day and he’ll just go:

“I want to fuck you so bad baby, make you scream my name like it’s a fucking prayer.”

And you fucking moan into his mouth because, where the fuck did that come from????

It catches you so off guard, but it’s so fucking hot

And he knows it

The cheeky bastard™️

“Say that again.”

“Ah ah ah.” He’d tsk. “You’ve gotta earn it.”

“Fuck.”

I also kinda get the vibes from this man that he’s a switch…

A fucking horny ass switch

Like, most of the time when he’s Eddie, he’s a bottom sub and you’re the dom

Idk what it is, but when he’s The Riddler, all bets are off

Now don’t get me wrong, he still has his sub!boy roots, but he’s a lot more likely to take control when he’s got the persona on

And he’s the biggest fucking tease

It’s really a 50/50 what you’re going to get, either it’s hard and fast or it’s goofy and sweet. And as much as you enjoy it rough, you love it even more when you take things slow

When you’re both in the mood for just being gentle and sweet, savouring those intimate moments, expect him to worship your body

Eddie loves everything about you, has every shape, every curve, every inch of your body memorized

“You��re so beautiful my dove.”

“Oh — Ed, fuck, oh.”

“The most wonderful riddle I’ve ever solved.”

When he says things like that, it always gets you going

Your mind, heart, and body feel like they’re about to burst

One of his favourite things during sex is when you tell him how much you love him. Given his past, he’s not used to hearing it, and you saying it during such intimate moments never fails to make his heart skip a beat

You’ll never stop complimenting him, telling him how good he is, how beautiful he is

And fuck, Eddie loves it (major praise kink alert)

I also have this feeling that whenever you’re doing some kind of puzzle, whether it be a crossword, word search, jigsaw, a game of chess maybe, he gets so turned on

Maybe you might have just solved something tricky, and your excitement causes him to think unholy thoughts

Or maybe you’re deep in thought, biting your lip, trying desperately to figure something out

That drives him bat shit (no pun intended) crazy

Even better when you can’t figure it out and he has to solve it for you…show you just how smart he is

Hear you tell him just how smart he is

But if you beat him at something, solve a riddle or a puzzle faster than him, as much as he wants to feel frustrated, he feels so much pride

And then he wants to take you right then and there

“I want to be mad but that was so hot.”

Que clothes being torn off as you fumble your way into the bedroom

He’d absolutely ravish you that night

And you him

At the end of the day, I think Eddie would know exactly how to take care of you, make love to you, worship you the way you deserve

And he’d never stop trying to show you just how much he wants you, just how much he needs you

And you always try to do the same for him

Every time ends with an I love you of some sort, no matter what… both of you make sure of it

You’re s o l i d on that

Breathing heavy, your head laying on his chest, you sigh contently

“I love you Eddie.”

Smiling, lips quirked in euphoria, he knows; this is exactly where he’s meant to be. “I love you too (Y/n).”

[reid-fiction]

A Progression of Touch

In which Spencer doesn’t like to touch people until you come along and then he can’t help himself

A/N: Look at me, dropping stories like flies. Also, I’ve been staring at this gif for far too long...

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

He doesn’t like to touch other people.

He knows it, you know it, the whole F.B.I. knows it. He told you as much the first time he met you by the way he awkwardly refused to shake your hand. Though he compensated with a friendly smile and a wave, you knew you were in for a ride with Dr. Spencer Reid. 

It wasn’t that he thought you were diseased. He just knew too much about germs and the human body to risk it, especially around cold and flu season which was exactly when he met you. It was bad enough that Garcia had dragged him to the Christmas party to begin with - there were so many people in close quarters, who knew what viruses were floating around - but he wasn’t a big fan of mingling and small talk either. And that was exactly what Penelope was forcing him into when he got his first glimpse of you. 

As soon as you had five minutes with Spencer under your belt, you knew you wanted a lot more time with him. He was unlike any person you had ever met and he fascinated you, especially his aversion to touch. 

A few months later, when Spencer finally bit the bullet and asked you on a date (after much prompting and borderline bribery from Garcia and multiple other team members she had coerced into helping her), he knew that his no touching rule was not going to fly for very long. He didn’t know much about relationships, but he did know that physical touch was a pretty important factor to most women. Though you never pushed him, he could tell that you were holding back for his benefit. He could see it in your eyes every time he dropped you off after a date. In most scenarios, a kiss goodnight would be expected - you wanted it, he could sense it - but it felt like you were the wrong side of a magnet that he just couldn’t get himself close to.

This was a problem, because he was falling for you and he was going to have to do something about it. 

Spencer knew that going the 0-100 method wasn’t going to work for him. He couldn’t just jump from not touching you at all to getting hot and heavy in the backseat of a car. But, gradual steps may work. If he eased himself in to getting acquainted with touching you, he could both push himself out of his comfort zone and give you a bit of the physical contact that you were clearly craving. 

-----

It started with a hug. 

One night, after walking you to your front door, you could tell that Spencer was concentrating on something and it wasn’t your current conversation. You were rambling on about some TV program you had seen the other night, and you knew he wasn’t listening to a word you were saying. 

“Hey, you okay?”

He glanced up at you, frowning, as if he had just remembered you were standing there.

“Yeah, fine. Why?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged, wrapping your arms around yourself after catching a gust of chilly air. “You just seem...far away. Distracted.”

He paused, pursing his lips at your accusation, and you suddenly felt extremely vulnerable under his gaze.

“Is something wrong? Did I...did I do something? I mean, are you -”

“No!” 

The suddenness of his reply caused you to jump, and he let out a nervous chuckle before running a hand through his hair. 

“No, it’s not you at all. I’m sorry, you’re right. I am distracted.”

“Well...about what? Maybe I can help.”

He paused again, and then smiled. “Yeah, maybe you can. Would you be able to just...stand still for a second?”

The strange nature of his request caused you to frown a bit, but you simply nodded and watched him with curiosity. A few seconds later, he slowly started to to move a few steps closer and raise his arms slightly. You had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but you didn’t move a muscle. His arms eventually found their way to rest lightly on the sides of you waist and then started to wrap around your torso. 

Your stomach instantly flipped. This was the first time Spencer had ever touched you beyond the occasional brush of your shoulders when you moved past him, or a playful kick to his leg when he beat you at chess. It had been two months of weekly dates, dinners, museum trips and evenings of sitting and talking until you were both too tired to form coherent sentences but, as much as you loved those times with him, you’d by lying if you said you never wished that he would throw caution to the wind once in a while and toss an arm around you or caress the side of your face with his fingers. 

Now, just the feeling of his hands on your back was like opening up a can of worms that had been wriggling in desperation for weeks, and you certainly hoped that this wasn’t a one time thing, because there was no way you’d ever be able to put those worms back in the can after this. 

He took another step toward you and circled his arms tighter around your back. You knew he had asked you not to move, but you couldn’t hold back any longer. You slowly raised your own arms until they were resting on his shoulders and then, when he didn’t protest, you wrapped them around his neck and leaned in until your head was nestled just below his collarbone. He tensed up only a moment before you felt him lean his head in the crook of your neck. 

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, holding each other. It could have been a few minutes, it could have been a few hours. You didn’t care, all that you knew was that you never wanted him to let go. 

-----

After the hug, his next target were your hands. 

Although Spencer was keenly aware of just how many germs the human hand picked up throughout the day, he was determined to overcome his aversion. You were clean and had good hygiene habits, he knew that. He had been hugging you every time he saw you since that first night, how much more difficult could holding your hand be?

It was during a movie he wasn’t really paying attention to that he finally made his move. Lately, his go-to move during movies was to carefully put his arm around you and rest his hand on your shoulder. He was completely comfortable with that movement now and really thought nothing of it anymore. He could tell that you enjoyed it as well, so he was more than happy to oblige you and suggest a movie night as often as possible. 

Tonight, however, he had different ideas. He purposely kept his arm at his side for the first half of the film, and he knew that you noticed. Truthfully, you had come to expect the motion now and were slightly disappointed when it didn’t happen as soon as the opening credits started to roll, but it wasn’t long until you figured out why.

You thought it was an accident at first. You had both of your hands resting in your lap and had your eyes focused on the movie when you felt it. The lightest, softest brush of skin against your own. Your hand twitched involuntarily and you silently cursed yourself for probably scaring him away. But, a minute or so later, it happened again. Still soft, still tentative, but it lingered. 

You stealthily flicked your gaze down to your lap and saw Spencer’s hand hovering just slightly over your own. You weren’t entirely sure what he was aiming for, but you kept your hand deathly still while you waited. His hand finally came to rest on your thigh and the side of his palm rested lightly against your own. You watched as his pinkie brushed up over the back of your hand, then another finger, and another, and another, until his whole hand was on top of yours. You opened the spaces between your fingers in hopes that he would lace his own through, and you weren’t disappointed. His fingers slid between yours like butter and you felt him squeeze your palm and slowly caress the back of your hand with his thumb. 

It was your idea to shuffle closer to him, lift his arm with your hands still intertwined, and loop it over your shoulder. He glanced over to you, smiled, and squeezed your hand again.

You wished you had picked a longer movie. Truthfully, so did he. 

-----

The idea of kissing you was terrifying. 

Spencer had kissed and been kissed before, but it wasn’t a common occurrence and it hadn’t ever been with someone he truly cared about. It was one thing for two body parts to come together in what science called a kiss, it was a whole other thing for that kiss to mean something. The last thing Spencer wanted was for him to screw up a potentially important moment in your relationship because he was hesitant or overly paranoid. 

He also had no idea how to know when the “right” moment was, if there was such a thing. Hugging was easy now, holding your hand was routine - he could do those at really any time, in any location, in any circumstance, and it wouldn’t be considered awkward or weird - but kissing was different. It was intimate, it was private, and it required more thought. 

It had taken him weeks, but he finally had a plan in mind. It was elaborate and detailed - as most of Spencer’s ideas were - and he knew exactly what he was going to say and do leading up to the moment.

However, what he wasn’t betting on was the sudden, overwhelming, spontaneous desire that came over him one evening while you were sitting in his apartment. You hadn’t been doing anything out of the ordinary; you had gone out to dinner, walked back to his place, and had plans to spend the rest of the night talking, maybe doing a puzzle or playing a game, and then you would go home like you always did. 

But it was something about the way you laughed after he told you a funny story that happened at work that day. It was the way your eyes locked on his every time he spoke, and the way you looked so intensely interested in every single thing he was saying, even if you didn’t understand all of it. It was the way you leaned into him when he pointed out something in a book he was holding, and the way he could smell your shampoo - vanilla with a hint of lavender - when you got close to him. It was the way your hand rested lovingly on his back while he read a passage to you and the way you absentmindedly twirled your hair as you listened. 

He needed to kiss you, and he needed to do it immediately. 

He didn’t care that it didn’t fit into his plan, he didn’t care that it wasn’t exactly what he pictured, and he didn’t care that he hadn’t prepared himself for it. The only thing he could think of was the shape of your lips and his intense need to know what they felt like on his own. 

So, he went for it.

It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t subtle, and it was probably the messiest thing he had ever done. He put the book down on the table, looked over at you, grabbed the sides of your face and pulled you to him. You were initially frozen in shock - the last thing you had expected that night was for Spencer to kiss you, let alone like this - but you could feel the intensity and desperation as his lips moved over yours, and that was enough to thaw your surprise and trigger your response instinct. You put one hand behind his head and pulled him impossibly closer to you, scooting to the very edge of your seat. 

His hands dropped from your face and landed on the tops of your thighs before he slid them up to your waist and you could feel him start to tug you closer. There was nowhere for you to go other than practically on top of him, and you knew there was no way he wanted you to do that. 

Was there?

As much as it pained you to do so, you momentarily broke the kiss to catch your breath. 

“Wow.”

Spencer chuckled, still gripping your waist. 

“Sorry,” he said, “I guess I just...couldn’t wait anymore.”

“Oh, don’t apologize!” you said, a little too enthusiastically. “It was great, and I wouldn’t have stopped you, it’s just...”

Spencer studied you, and brought one hand up to the side of your face again.

“Just, what?”

“It’s nothing, I guess I just wondered - I mean, I wasn’t sure how far you wanted to...you know...go. I don’t want you to feel like you need to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Spencer smiled, and you felt him tug you closer again. You gave him a questioning look, and he nodded.

“C’mere,” he said. “It’s okay.”

You tentatively stood and took a step closer to him before he gently guided you down until you were straddling his lap. You exhaled a breath of nerves as you seated yourself and brought your hands up to rest on his shoulders.

“You don’t need to worry,” he said. “I’m not going to push things any further tonight. But, right now, I would really like to keep kissing you. It’ll help me get comfortable with it. Repetition of an action you’re uncomfortable with is proven to retrain your mind in how you view the action.”

You grinned. “Is that the only reason you’d like to keep kissing me? To prove a scientific fact?”

“It’s more like a psychological fact. You see, in moments of intense satisfaction or pleasure, the brain releases something called dopamine which causes -”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish before you leaned in and kissed him again. 

The psychological facts could wait.

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

[letarasstuff]

Normal People don't know their IQ

(A/N): Inspired by me, who recently discovered normal people don’t know their IQ, while I was tested two or three times already...

Summary: A certain someone is the only way to get the UnSub. But there’s also something different that makes her special.

Warnings: Angst (fluffy end, I swear), language, mentions of rape and torture, mention of dead people, the usual CM stuff I guess Wordcount: 2.0k

✨Masterlist✨ _________________________________________

“Garcia, I need you to look into high school teachers, who are suspended or fired for inappropriate behavior towards students and live in the area of the kidnappings”, Hotch orders in a stern voice. But you can’t blame him, after all there are currently six dead teenage girls and one missing. One can only hope and work as fast as possible to get her back to her parents alive.

The team is working a case in Sacramento, California. Teenage girls get abducted on their way home from school, are held for exactly a week and are killed by a simple cut to their throat. The torture they have to endure beforehand isn’t as simple. The last two also show signs of rape.

The dumbing sites are different parks all over the city. The placing happens overnight only to have the girls found the next morning by a clueless jogger or stroller.

“Let’s go over the profile again, I feel like we are missing something”, Rossi commands. His gut feeling tells him only that much, he just has to find out what it is.

“It’s a white male in his mid thirties to late forties. He blends in, so he has to be or has been a teacher. Someone who looks like they belong into a school isn’t suspicious”, Spencer counts the facts.

“The victims all look similar, probably resembling an ex-wife or girlfriend”, Morgan adds. Before he can get into the depth of the torture a phone rings.

“My lovely crime fighters, I got an address. Charles Collins. philosophy and history. Got suspended for suggestive talk towards his female students. He is also said to stare at them and certain body parts for way too long and way too obvious. Gross. Annnd that- wait”

“What is it, Garcia?” Hotch asks after a moment of silence, which is unusual for the ever bubbly tech analyst.

“You got your profile wrong. Collins doesn’t take these girls because of an ex flame.”

The team looks at each other in confusion. Garcia always stresses how she isn’t a profiler and can’t judge over people, because she only wants to see the good in them. How is she able to tell that the profile is off?

“Shoot baby girl, we don’t have much time left”, Derek urges her. He wants nothing more than to have this SOB finally behind bars. The whole team wants that.

“He has a daughter. Technically it’s not his daughter, it’s someone else’s, but he is her foster father. Go and please save both girls!”

Penelope doesn’t have to say it twice. After a brief thank you and goodbye the team is on their way to the given address. As soons as they get there, everyone notices the absence of a car in the driveway. Hotch sends Spencer, Emily and Derek through the back door, the rest goes in from the front.

“FBI! OPEN UP!”

It’s needless to say that nobody opens up. There is no other way than kicking the doors down.

After entering the house and clearing the first floor, Rossi points towards the stairs that leads to the first story. There are only two rooms. A bathroom right hand and a closed door left hand.

Morgan counts quietly down before also kicking this door down and screaming “FBI!” But he seemingly talks with air, because there is no one to be found. Once again the team swarms out to look for evidence or clues.

As Spencer looks through the room they cleared last, he sees various things that make him smile. Several bookshelves are flooded with all kinds of genres, authors and covers. At first he can’t make out in which way they are sorted. But a closer look makes him realize that they are sorted by the author’s birth year. The doctor is kind of impressed, because that means the person knows when they are born in order to find a certain book. He likes the idea, it is a nice little challenge.

While he investigates further a sound makes him stop. He sends a text to Emily and waits for her. When she enters the room Spencer gestures to her to keep it quiet. Then he points to the bed.

They lower themselves down to the floor at the same time on each side of it. A girl, no older than 14 years, lays there shivering in angst. With big doe eyes she looks at Spencer and whispers:

“Please don’t hurt me.”

A while later the team is back at the station with the girl sitting in one of the interrogation rooms. The temperature is already set down, though Hotch feels really bad for it. Still there is another girl out there waiting to be safed.

“Baby girl, what can you give us on her?” Morgan sets his phone in the middle of the table and switches the speaker on.

“Our little girl’s name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), fourteen years old. Parents were deemed to be unable to look after her since they are both heavy drug addicts and didn’t even register her crying for two hours straight. Since the age of six months she bounces through the system with nobody wanting to keep her longer than two years. They claim she is too smart for them and want somebody to look after her, who can challenge her intellectually.

“Collins took her in one and a half years ago. He got her signed up in several activities after school, like chess and academic decathlon. As of right now she is a junior with an opportunity to graduate next year. Her teachers describe her as incredibly bright with a complicated way of thinking.”

“Complicated way of thinking? Her intelligence was neglected for years, so she gave herself her own challenges. I found her books sorted by the birth year of the authors. She found ways of making things more difficult for herself, that’s why she fabricated strange ways of thinking. This is often found in children with high intelligence, who are not boosted enough by their environment”, Spencer explains, getting more and more furious.

His colleagues feel that this is a sensitive subject for their resident genius. JJ comfortably puts a hand on his shoulder, making the tense go away.

“Emily and Dave, I want both of you to interrogate her. We need to know where he hides the girls. JJ, try to hold the press off for a bit longer. Morgan, Reid, I want you to watch and look for tells or anything else”, Aaron orders.

Everyone works on their given task immediately.

You don’t need to be a profiler to see that (Y/N) is scared out of her mind. She has her feet on her chair and her head lies on her knees. When the two agents enter, she tries to at least fake some kind of composer. But she fails miserably at it.

“Hello (Y/N), may I call you that?” Emily begins in a soft voice. The teenager nods shyly. “Good, (Y/N). My name is Emily Prentiss and this is David Rossi. We are agents from the Behavior Analysis Unit from the FBI. Do you know why you are here?” The teenager shakes her head.

“Ok, let’s cut the chase”, David's voice booms through the small room. “You know exactly why you are here. From what we saw in your room you are an incredibly smart girl. How high is your IQ? 130? 135?”

“147 a-actually”, she nervously corrects the agent, never meeting his eye. The team notices this fairly quickly.

“Even better, normal people don’t know their IQ. So you know what your forster father does. You saw the news, you read the papers, you heard your classmates talk. In addition to that, the girls look alarmingly similar to you. And all of the sudden Charles is more often out than usual. So do us a favor and come clear.” Then he pulls out a picture from a manila folder on the table. Emily tries to intervene.

“Rossi, don’t. She is not the UnSub. (Y/N) is just unfortunate to be at the wrong place.” “She might as well be another UnSub if she doesn’t do anything to help us. Do you know how long you are going to jail for helping hi-”

“I don’t know anything. I- of course I saw what is h-happening. A-and I connected the dots a long time a-ago. You know, Charles lost his job and that’s a stressor. T-then Child Service was investigating him, because of the suspension’s reasons. I-I couldn’t do anything. I had no evidence, the police wouldn’t believe me. I asked him once wh-what he thinks about, you know, what’s happening. He slapped me and told me to not talk about it again. I’m so sorry, I wanna help. The only thing that comes into my mind is an old cabin he once mentioned when I first arrived at his. B-but I don’t know if it helps you. P-please, I don’t want to go to jail or juvenile, I-” Then (Y/N) breaks down into tears.

Emily is in an instant by her side trying to calm her down, while Hotch gives the information to Garcia. As soon as she finds the location, JJ takes a seat next to (Y/N) and the rest of the team flies out.

“You don’t have to be scared of him anymore, Sweetheart. My colleagues will find him and he will be tried and convicted. He will never be a threat to you again”, the blonde tries to comfort her.

“Whenever I leave an abusive home, there will be another one that’s exactly the same. The only difference with Charles was that he seemed to understand me. He helped me. There’s nobody who is willing to do what he did for me”, she admits sadly.

It breaks JJ’s heart, because her words are true. Even though he is a killer, Collins did help her. But she is also determined to show the young girl that he isn’t the only one who can do that. That there are more people out there, who are kind and as helpful if not more.

Not long after this the team brings the man into the station, Morgan guiding him with a deadbolt-like grip.

Rossi spots (Y/N) in a break room with a hot drink in her hands. While making his way over there, Spencer follows him. He wants to talk with her as well.

“(Y/N) I’m sincerely sorry if I hurt you earlier. I didn’t intend to scare you, we just had to act quickly and you were the only source of information available. I also wanted to tell you, that your achievements are astonishing and I guarantee you a bright future, maybe even at the FBI”, he winks at the end of his last sentence.

“I understand, Agent Rossi. But doesn’t everybody know their IQ? I assumed everybody gets at least tested once in their life in some way”, she asks with surprise in her voice.

At that the older man is speechless. Of all things she could accuse him of legitimately, (Y/N) goes with the most innocent question.

“Actually, not everybody gets tested. A reliable test has to be done by a psychologist and most people don’t go to one. Furthermore there has to be a valid reason to do one, that’s why a great part of the population doesn’t know their IQ”, intervenes Spencer. He has to infodump, since the last time was over half an hour ago.

“But you also have to differentiate between the several kinds of intelligence, because intelligence is way more than being good at math. There…”

Rossi stopped listening to the excited interaction between the two geniuses. Instead he watches their body languages and facial expressions. He hasn’t seen both of them more at calm than they are now.

After all there might be a way for (Y/N) to get a little Happy End.

[kermitthesog]

thanks for the tag! (For some reason I didn’t get the notification but I’m responding now)

Coke or Pepsi? Neither

Disney or dreamworks? Disney

Coffee or tea? Neither

Books or movies? Movies but I love books

Windows or mac? Mac

Dc or marvel? Marvel!!! Never going to DC even though I like Batman

Xbox or PlayStation? PlayStation because I always play on it and have never played on an Xbox

Dragon age or mass effect? Idk what this is lol

Night owl or early riser? A mix of both

Cards or chess? Cards

Chocolate or vanilla? Vanilla

Vans or converse? Converse <3

Fluff or angst? Fluff

Beach or forest? Forests because they’re aesthetic and they don’t have half-naked people there :)

Dogs or cats? Both because I own both

Clear skies or rain? The rain but I still love clear skies

Cooking or eating out? I can’t cook so eating out lol

Spicy or mild food? Mild food

Halloween/samhain or solstice/yule/Christmas? Halloween because idk it’s just more fun but Christmas is also good

Would you rather forever be a bit hot or a bit cold? A bit cold definitely

What superpower? Telekinesis because it’s fun :D

Animation or live action? Live action but Into The Spiderverse makes animation come soooo close

Baths or showers? Showers all the way I never take baths anymore

Fantasy or sci-fi? Fantasy

Quotes? “Even strength has to bow down to wisdom sometimes.” - I think Annabeth Chase? Or “You’re mine and I’m yours. It’s written in the stars.” - Lucy Gray Baird, the ballad of songbirds and snakes

Youtube or netflix? Youtube

Percy Jackson or Harry Potter? PERCY JACKSON ALL THE WAY ESPECIALLY BECAUSE J.K. ROWLING SUCKS

When do you feel accomplished? When teachers say it to me or when my friends say it to me (like something nice about my work?)

Star wars or star trek? Star Wars, though I’ve never watched Star Trek and have only watched a few Star Wars movies

Paperback or hardcover? Hardcover

No literature or no music? WAIT THATS HARD BUT NO LITERATURE I GUESS :((

Last person to make you laugh? My friend or brother

City or countryside? City

Fav chips? Classic Lays or Doritos

Pants or dress? Pants, I always wear jeans

Library or museum? Library

Character or plot driven? Character maybe?

Bookmarks or folding pages? I try to use bookmarks and then end up forgetting and folding my pages IM SORRY D:

Dream job? Something like an artist or something to do with fashion?

What you gives you comfort? My favorite books and my best friends

What are you currently having brainrot levels of interest over? Percy Jackson (it’s a problem please help me)

Current fav song? Tired by beabadoobe or Say Anything by girl in red

Books read this year? Like around 17?

Fav scent? Trees/Forests/Rainy Days

Fav season? Fall

Current reads? Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard: The Sword of Summer

Gold or silver? I wear both (not at the same time obvi)

Are you more like Nick or Charlie? I think a mix of both

Fav fictional character? Percy Jackson or Leo Valdez

Have you ever dyed your hair? Yeah, pink streaks one time and I’ve bleached it

What's your favourite piece of clothing rn and why? my dark jeans because they look so good on me

What's your favourite place to be? Laying in the grass (at school w/ my friend) or My house

What's your favourite animal? Cats or Dogs idk

Are you more like Tori or Michael? I don’t know much about Michael so I’d have to say more like Tori

(My question)— What attracts you to someone the most? (Platonic or Romantic) Probably humor and how they treat others

Tagging: @azuriewillow005 @littlesilentrebel @merlin-apocalypse @be-bisexual-eat-hot-chip-and-lie and anyone else who would like to join!

RULES: answer all questions, add one question of your own, and tag as many people as there are questions

thank you @good-enemy for the tag <3

coke or pepsi: coke

disney or dreamworks: sorry but i prefer disney i could name maybe like two dreamworks movies off the top of my head

coffee or tea: tea because coffee tastes burnt

books or movies: books

windows or mac: windows

dc or marvel: unfortunately i am a marvel fan

x-box or playstation: i havent used either of these in years

dragon age or mass effect: what

night owl or early riser: night owl

cards or chess: cards

chocolate or vanilla: depends on the food but usually vanilla

vans or converse: docs

lavellan, trevelyan, cadash, or adaar: ⁉️

fluff or angst: angst. hurt that blorbo you know you want to

beach or forest: beach

dogs or cats: dogs by default because im allergic to cats

clear skies or rain: clear skies but like the kind of clear skies when its sunny with no clouds in the sky but its chilly out

cooking or eating out: depends on the food

spicy food or mild food: mild food bc im a picky eater and also white

halloween/samhain or solstice/yule/christmas: hanukkah

would you rather forever be a little too cold or a little too hot: a little too cold

if you could have a superpower what would it be: telekinesis but that might just be because im a jean grey girlie

animation or live action: live action

paragon or renegade: ⁉️

baths or showers: baths but unfortunately showers are more convenient

team cap or team iron man: i hate both of them

fantasy or sci-fi: anyone who knows me knows i am the biggest fantasy lover out there

do you have three or four favorite quotes, if so what are they: idk i have a lot but i couldnt name them off the top of my head

youtube or netflix: youtube

harry potter or percy jackson: percy jackson obviously. he'd also kick harry potter's ass but thats a whole other conversation

when do you feel accomplished: when i succeed

star wars or star trek: ive seen bits of star wars so that one

paperback books or hardcover books: hardcover books because they have built in bookmarks and also theyre pretty

live in a world without literature or music: nice try but no

who was the last person to make you laugh: i dont know probably my dad

city or countryside: city i love the city i am a big city person (i dont live in a big city)

favorite chips: baked lays

pants or dresses: pants

libraries or museums: museums we have no good libraries here

character driven stories or plot driven stories: oh thats hard. probably plot but i do love a good character driven story

bookmarks or folding pages: bookmarks

dream job: music therapist

what gives you comfort: my dog. also music

what are you currently having brain rot levels of interest over: the once upon a broken heart series by stephanie garber and also maisie peters's music

what is your current favorite song: coming of age by maisie peters

(added question) how many books have you read this year?

tagging @henwilsons @napollya @thegoosewitch and whoever else is interested

[earnestly-endlessly]

hi! hope you're doing well :) do you have any domestic!cherik fics? or established relationship ones?

Hi anon, thanks for the ask. I'm doing very well, been super busy because I'm currently moving but it's all good. I have plenty of great domestic/established relationship cherik fics for you. I hope you enjoy!!

Domestic/Established Relationship cherik

Daycare ‘Verse’ – orphan_account, pocky_slash

Summary: A modern AU in which Charles runs a mutant daycare and Erik is his long-suffering engineer boyfriend.

Runs in the Family – Anonysquirrel (chibirisuchan)

Summary: Alex knew his own reputation. Hell, he'd started some of his own reputation, because it kept some of the smarter thugs off his back. Everyone knew Alex's reputation. There was no way Hank didn't know his reputation, but he'd brought Alex into a house with some really expensive things and a lot of innocent little kids and his too-friendly, too-harmless dad.

But clearly Hank hadn't told his family anything about Alex, just like he hadn't told Alex anything about his family. At least, not about the brain-breaking parts of his family.

"I didn't know where to start," Hank said, for the dozenth time.

Gift of the Magi, But Screw it Up – librata

Summary: He doesn't know if he's buying too much, too little, or even the right things at all, because he's never entertained a guest as important as Edie Lehnsherr.

Making perfect – aesc

Summary: As is the case with most trials in Erik's life, this one starts with Charles gazing beseechingly at him and asking him for a favor. Not that their going-on-three years relationship is a trial, even though it started with Charles giving Erik the full benefit of sad blue eyes and asking him if he wouldn't mind opening his car door since he'd locked his keys inside, but still.

Continue firm and constant – aesc

Summary: Moira hasn't seen her old partner in saving the world from threats human and intergalactic, Erik Lehnsherr, for a few years. When she finally does see him again, she finds a man different from the one who's been with her down in the dark and the dirt and the blood... or maybe he isn't so different after all.

After School Special – listerinezero

Summary: Charles was barely seventeen and Erik was his social studies teacher. But after almost fifteen years together, does it really matter how they met?

Terrifying Domesticity – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is the most dangerous and notorious mafia boss around for miles, and yet the strangest things terrify him.

For example: his children, and his very pregnant mate.

Trying is Half the Battle – Pookaseraph

Summary: Post-Cuba, no divorce, Charles and Erik are in an established relationship and when Charles gets sick with a random flu bug, they discover that Charles can get pregnant. They then try to get pregnant, and try, and try.

We’ll all be gone for the summer – pocky_slash

Summary: Charles and Erik's usual family beach vacation gets a little bigger when they agree to watch Erik's teenaged twins for the summer. Charles is looking forward to a chance to bond with his step-children. Erik is terrified of screwing them up even more.

A Summer Day So Late in Coming – helens78

Summary: Fifty years after they fell in love, Erik comes to Charles with a proposal that rocks Charles's world.

Still Going Strong – JackyJango

Summary: Speaking of forty-eight, Erik hates it. Hates it even more that others are aware of it. While he’s pragmatic enough to know and accept that aging is inexorable, the increase in number gives the people around him the freedom to pounce at him with questions, opinions and advice he'd fought to keep at bay all year.

Besides, Erik believes that youth is a state of mind, not a phase in one’s life.

You have a child’s mind in a man’s body, Charles constantly tells him.

But despite his age, Erik is healthy. He works out daily. His muscles are steel and he can dead-lift four hundred pounds. He can break bones without breaking a sweat. Most importantly, he can still carry Charles to the bedroom and fuck him senseless. And as long as Erik can do that, he’s perfectly happy.

Before You Attempt Me (Fair Warning) – kianspo

Summary: Charles helps Raven get ready for the prom. Surprisingly, that part goes well. The prom itself not so much. Erik cooks a lot of unhealthy comfort foods and is incredibly patient. Charles mostly frets about everything, until Erik does something neither he, nor Raven see coming.

And now you will not be alone any more – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik gives driving, sewing, and cooking lessons, soothes nightmares, bolsters self-esteem, and still can't figure out why Charles keeps smiling at him like that.

Some sense of touch and a melody – pocky_slash

Summary: On a day when Charles, for once, finds himself saying the right thing to everyone he sees, he allows himself to be talked into a field trip to a local orchard.

It’s kind of our whole thing – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: After two years of best friendship, Charles and Erik thought they knew everything there was to know about each other. They're surprised, then, when their first summer as a couple reveals that they have a lot to learn about each other and themselves.

Indulgence – grim_lupine

Summary: “The children are still asleep,” Charles murmurs groggily, flinging an arm out as if searching for Erik beside him. “The house is still standing, this is a ghastly hour, and more importantly, I’m still here. Why do you insist on doing this every morning?”

Your Father’s Daughter – ConsultingWriter

Summary: Wanda proves just how much she takes after Erik.

Pietro reeled back before leaning back in "They didn't tell you what happened? Wanda got in a fist fight and totally wailed on this guy, I mean, on one hand I feel kinda embarrassed for him, but it was so epic."

Erik's eyebrows shot to his hairline. Wanda got in a fight? That was....surprising, to say the least. Wanda tended to take after Charles in temperament and preferred talking to violence.

This Crazy Game Called Life – chiasmus

Summary: Raven declares game night in the mansion. Sean finds an elephant, Erik inherits one hundred unwanted cats, and Charles scars Hank for life with misdirected dirty thinking. This is five thousand-something words of crack with a dose of schmoop. I'm not sorry. Written for this kink meme prompt: Raven is tired of the boys going off to play chess (if they're even playing chess!) and pulls out a load of board games from one of the closets in the mansion. Madness ensues.

To my roomba with love – sareyen

Summary: There are a lot of things that Erik loves about Charles. He loves all of the obvious things; Charles’s kindness, his intelligence, his laughter, his eyes. He also loves the little private things; the way Charles sneaks Erik his unwanted tomatoes, his warbled opera singing in the shower, that sensitive spot on his hip.

And he loves the silly things about Charles, especially the way the man has a habit of talking to inanimate objects when he thinks no one is looking. Charles has conversations with the kettle, the washing machine, and their roomba – and every time Erik eavesdrops on him, he falls in love with the man a little bit more.

Everything About it is a Love Song – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik's spent fifty years being a figurehead and he's ready to leave that behind. Luckily, so is Charles.

(aka Old Retired Dudes in Love)

A Very Xavier-Lehnsherr Christmas – zamwessell

Summary: Erik is discovering new things about Charles Xavier all the time. Charles sometimes talks in his sleep. Often about food. Occasionally in Latin. Charles has a scar on his left thigh from attempting to demonstrate relativity to a girl by sitting on a hot stove. Charles doesn’t mean to be so loud when they make love, but sometimes Charles can’t help himself.

Charles is a voracious reader. Charles has an unspeakably filthy imagination. Charles will try anything in bed twice to make sure he wasn’t wrong the first time.

Charles is unexpectedly fond of Christmas. Perhaps that is not the phrase. “Unhealthily obsessed” might be better.

The fluffiest holiday fluff you ever read in your dang life.

Of Crabs and Castles – flightinflame 

Summary: Charles and Erik take their children to the beach. Wanda builds a sandcastle, Nina makes some friends, and Pietro gets some exercise. Some family fun in the sunshine.

Bring Your Daughter To Work Day – listerinezero

Summary: Charles brings three year old Lorna to class with him.

Glasses – grim_lupine

Summary: Charles blinks at him bemusedly, but Erik barely notices because Charles is wearing glasses— wire-rimmed, and Erik can feel the metal humming, traces without touch the way they follow the curve of Charles’s nose and rest behind his ears.

Genetics Isn’t Sexy – pocky_slash

Summary: Charles lectures. The kids aren't very responsive. Erik, on the other hand....

Peanut Butter and Honey (The Fairytale Remix) – pocky_slash

Summary: Once upon a time there was a Princess named Anya who lived in a house with her Daddy and her wicked stepmother Charles. (A wicked stepmother is the person who comes and lives with princesses and their daddies after their mommies go away.) She had a best friend named Leroy, and one day he was lost.

The Bystander (The Consultant (aka A Westchester Telepath in the Avengers Tower) Remix) – Nanimok

Summary: When it comes to Professor Charles Xavier, telepath, SHIELD consultant and compulsive flirt, no one is safe.

Not even the Big Three.

[aggressive-positivity-network]

do any of the mercs play board games?

Mercopoly (Board Game

Headcanons)

Scout:

You think he has enough of an attention span to play something that doesn’t involve sweating out his energy drinks?

Hell no!

He gets very bored very quickly, especially with something complex like chess.

He’ll play cards sometimes, but only Crazy Eights and Go Fish - that’s all he knows how to play.

However, there is one true board game he plays occasionally: Candy Land.

It’s one of the few board games that you don’t really have to read the rules for, and there isn’t any writing on the cards.

However, he only asks to play it when he’s not feeling very well.

Medic even has a page in his medical journal for the mercs that says, and I quote:

“The Scout has an extremely short attention span, and if an activity isn’t active or immersive, he will not stay long. If at any point he chooses a sedentary activity, a check-up is in order.”

As sad as it is, a request to play Candyland is a good way to know if Scout needs a little extra reassurance or support.

By the end of the game, Scout usually feels more himself, whether he wins or not.

Engie is especially good with Scout when he’s this way, being the one of the most emotionally sensitive of the group. But he also knows Scout would never admit straight-away how he was feeling, so he usually has a more fun way of getting answers.

“You feelin’ more like a King Candy or a Lord Licorice?”

“...Fudge Monster.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah...”

Spy:

If you ask him, he will most likely go off on a tangent about chess, and how it’s a game of strategy, deception, and crushing your enemy with your wit.

He scoffs at any other game, and constantly makes fun of several of his more intelligent peers for finding interest in them.

“You are mercenaries. Blood-thirsty killers of men. And you are playing ‘Hungry, Hungry Hippos’ like a hoarde of kindergartners?”

But one thing he cannot resist is Sorry.

He considers it above normal board games because it has strategy - or at least that what he says.

He actually just likes it because it’s a game of revenge, which is like a drug to him.

He’s gotten so good at it that if he asks you to play Sorry with him, it’s almost guaranteed that he’s mad at you and just wants to let off some steam by giving you a horrendous loss. However, occasionally, he’s the one who loses.

Spy isn’t a poor sport, exactly - he’s too cultured for that - but sometimes his pride outweighs his manners and he convinces himself that the other player cheated through made up signs of deception.

He simply “allows” them to win because he “doesn’t want to make a fuss.”

But god help the unfortunate soul who decides to rub their win in his face.

Sniper had won five games in a row, and it was clear Spy was getting hot under the collar.

Sniper ended their games with a mischievous, “You’ll get ‘em next time, tiger.” and a small pat on his shoulder.

Spy immediately saw red, grabbed Sniper’s hand, and before the aussie knew it, he was against a concrete wall with a butterfly knife to his throat.

“I could kill you right now. Your final cry for Medic will be drowned in blood, and I would leave you here to die a painful, dramatic death. You’ll be replaced with a rusted trash can of a bot until they could grow another clone of you. Every memory will be gone. The team will be shrouded in grief, not because of losing you, but losing what the clone can never have. And I shall bide my time, ask the clone to play the same game, and kill them when they win. Another clone, another kill. And again. And again. And again. You think the Manns give a damn as long as their work is getting done? You will never be able to form a single thought before I spill your blood - caught in an eternal prisoner’s dilemma where you always lose.”

After gathering his bearings, Sniper finally spoke.

“Is this about your takeout?”

Spy scoffed.

“Do you really think - !”

“Tonight, my treat if you don’t kill me.”

Spy squinted.

“Egg rolls?”

“And an extra order of crab rangoon.”

“Your treat?”

“Yep.”

“How do I know you won’t poison me?”

“Chemical test before and after the food arrives.”

“How do I know Medic isn’t in on it?”

“Miss Pauling as a witness and Scout as an overseer. Pauling’s main objective is to keep us alive, and Scout can’t do bloody anything subtle, even if he wanted to. You can also play back the cameras in the lab, if the mood really struck ya.”

Spy held Sniper against the wall for a minute or two while he thought it all over, then let Sniper fall to the ground.

“I don’t need your sympathy, bushman. But you had better keep your end of the deal. I am the only backstabber around here.”

Demo:

Can’t even stay awake long enough to play most board games.

On the rare chance that he’s sober, he, Engie, and Medic like to play Monopoly.

Here’s the thing: you should never ask a drunkard, an engineer, and a sadist genius to play Monopoly together. It will not end well.

They have been playing the same game for years, with new rules in place and physical extensions to the board in order to try and end the game. Every other Friday, they take the weekend to try and finish it.

However, it all ends up fruitless.

Demo is usually the one keeping the peace, since he is the least competitive out of the three. That isn’t to say he isn’t clawing for the win as much as the other two, but he is definitely the least invested. He’s mostly staying out of principle.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, ‘s ta ne’er give up, e’en when the goin’s gettin’ tough. Roll the dice, doc.”

Despite his confidence, he’s not even sure what he would do if he or anyone else won. It would seem more like a relief than a celebration.

Medic:

He’s the one who started the Eternal Monopoly game, which has led to some theories that the game itself came straight from hell, and is one of the many punishments used on sinners. The box does smell a bit of brimstone…

He seems to enjoy the chaos that each round brings and the challenge of coming up with new rules to the game. To any outsider, his commentary and directions are complete nonsense.

“According to zhe ‘Calvinball Rule,’ as stated by Engineer, and the ‘Double Kill,’ as stated by myself, since the current time ends vis a three and ve all received at least two kills zhis veek, ve need to double every other roll and whomever loses zhe resulting game of ‘Bim Bum’ vill have to go to zhe Purple Jail.”

The rules and mechanics are like an unholy amalgamation of Monpoly, Sorry, chess, D&D, Bluff, and poker.

However, when Medic isn’t stapling pages of rules together, he likes to play a nice, relaxing game of checkers with Heavy.

Both of them are excellent checker players, but neither of them care who wins.

In fact, they usually talk over the game, taking the other player’s pieces as one of them shares a story from that day’s battle.

They’ve even played while Heavy was in surgery - leading to many unfortunate times when Medic had to fish a piece out of Heavy’s intestines.

One would think that a genius doctor would also have a passion for chess, but he expresses his disdain for it almost every time the checker board is brought out.

“Ach, people think chess is such an intelligent sport. Let me tell you, liebling, it is terribly overrated. If zhe devil can play chess, anyvun can. He might as vell just give souls avay, vis those shaky claws of his.”

Engineer:

Being the engineer, he is usually the one to add to the Eternal Monopoly.

Pieces, board extensions, cards, trivia - it gives him a nice break from all the weaponry.

He’s usually the one who remembers all the mechanics and rules, and serves as the judge if rules contradict each other.

“Alright, now let’s see here…we’ve got the Infinity Loop over here, but now you’ve got the Time Travel card…how many years? Infinite? Ho boy…looks like I’m gonna have to add a Hilbert’s Hotel square somewhere. Hold on…”

Despite his affinity for Eternal Monopoly, Engineer will play almost any board game. He learns new rules and figures quickly, and enjoys the challenges that brings.

However, if he’s particularly burnt out, he likes to take a break by playing Jenga. He and Spy have a friendly rivalry, since Engie can tell which blocks are supporting and Spy has quick fingers.

Spy, oddly, is a lot more amiable losing in Jenga - he knows Engie won’t think less of him - but Engineer hates when the bricks fall over. Not because it means he lost, but because, to him, it’s a failure on his part…even if it was someone else that knocked it over.

He’s made several blueprints for the perfect Jenga game, but has concluded that no human hand could put it into practice.

During one particularly bad day, Engie bumped the table, causing the whole column to come crashing down. Spy had already recovered from the noise, but Engie was still standing there, stone-faced.

His eyes were covered by his goggles, but it was clear he was crying.

Several of his machines had broken on the job, and to him, this was just another egregious mistake.

Spy carefully put the blocks back in the container, and Engie came to his senses.

“I’m real sorry, Spy. Maybe another time…?”

Spy only nodded. He was thinking.

The next time they played, Spy brought out a different container.

Instead of wood, the bricks seemed to be made of a sturdy foam.

“They fall a bit more…quietly,” Spy explained. He dropped one, and it only made a small bouncing sound. “Pyro uses these, but they allowed me to borrow it.”

Engie was a bit skeptical at first, since it was a new material, but he got the hang of it rather quickly. He was almost ecstatic the first time it fell - the blocks barely made any sound at all!

After a few games, Spy had to leave for an assignment. Engie put a hand on their arm.

“Thank ya, Spy. Maybe you ain’t the cold-blooded backstabber I thought you were.”

Spy chuckled, but said little else. He didn’t want to admit that noise sensitivity plagued him as well.

Pyro:

Pyro loves board games, and has quite the collection in their room.

Each plastic piece is at least a little melted, and all the boxes have two or three scorch marks.

Hungry Hungry Hippos, Candyland, and Uno are among her favorites.

He is an absolute beast at Uno, though.

They take each game very seriously, especially when they can convince the whole team to play.

As you can imagine, it’s pure chaos - it even led to a rule in the Merc Guidebook: “When playing Uno with three or more players with the inclusion of a Pyro, at least one Mann Co. representative and/or a mediating Medic must be present.”

Pyro has been known the hide cards, bribe players, or even try to set flame to competition. Playing Uno is almost like a mission, with weapon preparation and Spy posing as other players.

The mercs even have a betting stand that Sniper runs. All parties have lost a lot of money that way.

It’s pretty much the only time outside of battle that the team remembers how cruel and malicious Pyro can be.

Sniper:

Conventional board games aren’t exactly his forté, but he does enjoy a bit of cards every once in a while - Solitaire being his favorite.

He even has a pack of cards in his Sniper Square for that exact purpose. It allows him the pass the time without having to look away from his targets too often.

On occasion, he could be pressed to play poker, but only if the stakes weren’t monetary (i.e candy pieces, crackers, duties, etc.).

His favorite part of every match is shuffling the cards. Pretty much every merc could shuffle cards, but Sniper could make them almost float with how quick his fingers and wrists moved. He always began the game with a new trick he learned, which delighted his fellow players (usually Spy, Engineer, Medic, and Demo).

You could always tell if he had a busy day because he would avoid tricks with too much movement, which would be murder on his sore fingers and hands.

Pyro is currently learning card tricks from Sniper, and show off what they learn at the beginning of every Uno game.

Heavy:

He isn’t a huge fan of the bright, plastic-y board games that Pyro has, although he will play them if asked.

It’s mostly because of how complicated the rules are and the fact there are almost never a Russian translation for the directions.

He always prefers checkers, cards, or mancala, which he almost exclusively plays with Medic because he’s the only one who speaks fluent Russian.

Heavy can play a mean game of mancala, though, and it’s the only game he can beat Medic at.

Soldier:

The only games he will play are Battleship and Uno - but only after Miss Pauling convinced him it was “American enough” because the game had red, white, and blue cards.

He prefers the electronic Battleship because of the sound effects and voices. However, if it’s out of batteries, he’ll make his own sound effects.

Miss Pauling is the best at pretending to be a commander, so she’s usually the one playing with him - but, sometimes, Demo gets in on the action, too.

[the-fiction-witch]

Mr Watts p3

TV SHOW THE QUEENS GAMBIT COUPLE BENNY WATTS X READER RATING SMUTISH

 sat reading my book or we'll trying to. The class deep in reading too the room almost silent. I was trying to remain focused on the words on the page even If I hadn't actually read the last three paragraphs. I was just trying to avoid looking at her… even if I knew I wanted to. I like this job, it's easy and it's steady money for once in my life. I can't loose it over some girl. I glanced up noticing her sat on the front as usual deep in her book, her leg crosses over the other her black stockings  hugged her so close her blue skirt tugged up flashing the edge of her black lace panties. She glanced away from her book a second and her eyes caught mine so I looked back to my book quickly. Fuck. She saw me. She knew I was looking. She knew I saw her. She smiled returning to her book but I noticed her yawn stretching her arms a little as she did her white jumper slightly rose up flashing the bottom of her black lace bra that clearly matched the panties I tried not to look but…. Come on! She's hot! I can't help it! Luckily the bell went for the next class so everyone headed out quickly and of course she was last out holding her books as she came closer to my desk "is the office going to be open this afternoon Mr Watts?" 

"Ye- no no ughhh no I umm have some work to do this afternoon y/n the office won't be open" I explain

"Ohh I see. I'll be seeing you then mr watts" she smiled blowing me a little kiss before she left the room moving her hips a little as she did 

"Fuck." I sighed 

I sat at my desk pouring over some paperwork for the next lesson when there was a tap at my door I was confused it was late I was technically supposed to have been gone half an hour ago even the corridor lights where off 

"Someone there?" I asked to the door

"It's me mr watts could I come in?' it was y/n I couldn't really tell her no 

"Of course come on in y/n"

The door clicked open and I struggled not to look she stood there in these little black sneakers, these ribbed white socks that stopped above her knees with a black stripe across the top, a black and white tartan skirt that finished at her mid thigh, a little white shirt with the sleaves rolled to her elbows and a black sleaveless jumper with the college logo on it, her hair done as usual as was her make up her books in her hands blushing a little as she saw me 

"Good evening Mr Watts. I hope I'm not disturbing you?" She said as she shut the door behind her never breaking eye contact with me as she did 

"Well uhh no y/n I was just finishing up" I said "what was it you wanted?"

"I uhh I just wanted to pop in a see you mr watts, hand in my paper a little early" she smiled coming to my desk handing over the paper I only assigned a week ago 

"You sure you don't want to work on it anymore?"

"In sure" 

"Alright, I'll uhh mark yours first then"

"Also… mr watts. It's silly I know but" she blushed getting something from her bag putting it on my desk it was a copy of my book "please" she giggled

"Aww of course y/n" I laughed taking it signing it for her which made her very happy handing it back

"Thank you Mr Watts. Do you like working here so far?" She asked shuffling her feet 

"I uhh I think so, very different, but I do like it" I said getting up and putting one of the books on my desk away trying to sort of heard her to the door "was that everything y/n?" 

"I uhh I'm sorry mr watts but I was curious. Is there a Mrs watts?" She asked fiddling with the chess pieces on my desk 

"Oohh uhhh no. No I uhhh I am… single" I answered realizing as soon as it came out my mouth why she asked because that's exactly what she wanted to hear she blushed hard giggling looking at the floor I know I turned red too 

"I see. Thank you Mr Watts I'll see you in class" she smiled going to the door shaking her hips as she did she pulled open the door a blushed a little "I always thought I'd make a good Mrs watts" she smiled blowing me a kiss before she left going down the corridor I was still frozen stood by my desk well almost as I felt that stupid throbbing in my jeans 

"Oh for fuck sake bonner not now!" I complained

I sat in the quiet as everyone did their work trying to force my mind away from thinking what it was, she wore shorts today! Tiny little black shorts that hugged her enough I could practically see everything! And she's sat in the front row wiggling and opening her legs everytime I look at her! The problem is I knew I was hard and given my tight jeans today I had to sit behind the desk to make sure she didn't see it let alone anyone else what am I meant to do here! I tried not to look at her but I kept glancing everytime I did she would give me something to look at, open her legs or cross her legs and flash her ass at me, push her tits out even winking and making kissy faces at me I tried not to give her attention but I secretly watched from behind my book I noticed she was wiggling in her seat alot she usually did often flashing stuff at me but this was different so precice and the movements repeated often I watched as she read her book and I noticed the same movements of her hips against the corner of her chair back and forth over and over in those almost skin tight shorts I could almost be certain there couldn't have been panties under them if there was they had to be small and seamless I watched for a while her doing this ranking my mind as to why she was doing it and then it clicked what she was doing. Moving her hips in those skin tight shorts back and forth against the corner of the chair I struggled to contain myself thinking about her rubbing on herself and practically masturbating in class I bit my lip hard and she saw me looking she knew I saw and she knew I knew luckily the bell went so the class emptied all but me and y/n. I got up grabbing my bag and book and instantly she giggled seeing how hard she'd made me she got up and walked towards the door stopping before she left 

"Mr watts are you going to be in your office later?" She asked "I had a few… questions I wanted your help with?"

"Oohh well y/n I uhhhh I am… uhh I will be in my office this Evening"

"Good I'll see you later then mr watts" she smiled blowing me a kiss before she left...

[hillnerd]

For the headcanon ask game - Romione + rain?

For the headcanon ask meme <-feel free to send a couple and a prompt- i'll either write a short blurb of headcanon or write a drabble my headcanon is that Hermione loves rainy days and Ron doesn't- she wins him over to them eventually:

RAIN

Hermione had always loved the rain. None of the other children in her class did. They'd moan and wail when they had to stay inside during playtime. As they all mourned the loss of their beloved tag, Hermione would squirm in delight.

While everyone else would suffer through checkers and building blocks, adventures and deserted islands waterfalled into the room with every drop of rain. Why deal with getting actual dirt under your nails, when you can imagine walking on beaches. Why deal with lines for the swingset and being elbowed off the climbing frame she could barely manage to stay on for more than a few seconds, when there were chapters of friends to spend her hour with.

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

Rainy days were absolutely, without a doubt, miserable! That's what they were. On a sunny day Ron’s brothers would let him come along and maybe even hang out a bit. He might just be target practice for an apple, but at least he was on a broom, and at least he was having something akin to a nice time with them.

Instead he was locked in, roped into chores, and no one would play him chess anymore. He'd just finished helping his mum mucking out some of the junk from under the sink when he felt his leg get crushed and he let out a string of curses.

“Get your legs out the way!” Fred hissed, giving him a light kick for good measure.

Utterly miserable.

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

Hermione wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck as a gust of rain-loaded wind made her umbrella quite pointless. The Quidditch Pitch was so misty she had no idea how the players were able to avoid colliding.

“Damn this weather is shit!”

A warm cloak was draped around her shoulder and she hurriedly leaned into Ron’s side.

“You shouldn’t curse.” She did her best to school her smile into a formidable frown of disapproval.

Ron laughed and shook his head. Droplets from his hair flicked onto the last dry bit of her face.

“Y’know, we’ve been friends for two years. You should probably get over my cursing. I’m not going to stop.”

“It’s impolite!”

“Worse things to be than impolite, aren’t there? I could be an arse like Malfoy.”

“And that’s the scale you’re grading yourself on? ‘Not as bad as Malfoy?’”

“Don’t be jealous of my lofty goals,” he said, putting his nose high in the air before squinting. “I hope Harry catches the Snitch soon. My bum’s going dead from the cold. Know anything that could warm it up?”

Hermione tucked her head behind her hair as heat radiated through her.

“There’s a hot-air-charm.”

“Oh yeah! Blow some hot air on me!”

“I don’t know it yet… I’ve only seen it.”

“Same.”

“And warming charms aren’t until fourth year.”

“Bit shit, that. It’s getting colder by the second out here. We should all know a good warming charm. Plus we live in a castle in Scotland! It’s bloody cold!”

“Ron!” she said, giving him a small elbow in the side.

“Sorry! I’ll try not to curse so much, I swea—”

“No! What’s that over there?”

A swathe of darkness rushed the field, undulating like a dark ink spill across the Quidditch field.

“Oh no…” Ron moaned. “Dementors!”

He gave another string of curses as they rushed towards the field.

Despite the cold, misery and terror encroaching, a bit of warmth kept the Dementors from fully affecting her as they had on the Hogwarts Express. It was Ron’s large hand holding hers all the way to the field.

She loved rainy days.

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

The wet squelch of his shoes echoing off stone hallways was the only sound left in the castle. Ron was alone, which was all for the better. He’d always loved Quidditch, but now it felt like a scimitar ready to come down and end him. At this point he’d welcome a good beheading— at least then he wouldn’t feel so bleeding miserable.

His sodden robes left tiny droplets, and he’d wrung out one giant puddle, in the halls. If Filch caught him, he’d probably give him a good dressing down, but Ron didn’t care. He deserved one.

How could Quidditch abilities have passed him by so thoroughly? He thought he’d been a good Keeper at home. He always got stuck in the position, but over time he grew to like it quite a lot. Not anymore.

His robes thwarted against the portrait whole as he drug himself through to an empty Common Room. Not wanting to face his dormmates he went for a seat by the fire, but found Hermione. She sat in one of the larger plush chairs, her little legs curled up under her in a way that would make his long limbs go numb in under a minute. All around her were parchment and books. She was working on a Charms assignment he knew was not due for another three weeks. She looked up from the work and gave a warm smile. Despite himself, he smiled back.

“It’s miserable enough with all the rain. Why compound it with Charms?” he asked.

“I wanted to wait for you. I don’t like the idea of you practicing in a storm like this. Especially by yourself! It’s not worth it.”

“Well I can’t quit,” he said, feeling mulish again and collapsing into the opposite chair with a great heave.

“I wasn’t suggesting you quit. Just maybe wait for nights where there isn’t a maelstrom?”

“Ah, but then there’d be loads of other people wanting to practice, and then they’d all see how I suck eggs.”

“I’ve seen you fly and you don’t ‘suck eggs,’” she said, finishing her sentence with a flourish of her quill.

“There’s a whole song about it.”

“That song…” she growled, casting a charm on her paper to dry the ink.. “Malfoy’s the one who sucks eggs! He’s a little monster and I’m a bit in shock the professors have done absolutely nothing to stop him.”

“Why would they?” he said with a shrug.

“Because it’s a monstrous display of bullying? Because it’s targeting a student and making the whole school absolutely toxic? It’s wrong? It’s harmful? Take your pick!”

Ron straightened in his seat as she pointed her wand at him. Suddenly he was hit with the most satisfying warming charm, followed by a water wicking spell.

“You’re good at Keeping! I’ve seen you do it every summer up against the twins, Ginny, and even Charlie. But you’re no good to anyone if you get struck by lightning, fall from your broom, or catch pneumonia from being out in this weather! And what are you smiling at?” she asked, brows furrowed enough to make that cute little line appear between them.

“You.”

“You should take what I’m saying seriously!”

“Fine, I won’t fly in this weather alone.”

“Well who will accompany you?”

He hesitated a moment then replied, “You, if you’ll come.”

“I can. As long as I’m ahead on my revising.”

“Then you can always come, as you’re always ahead,” he said putting his feet up on her arm rest.

“I also meant it about the Keeping. I think you’re good.”

“Yeah, well… Quidditch isn’t your strong suit.” She shoved his feet off the chair and he gave a chuckle. “But, I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

Despite wanting to be so ahead in her studies, Ron noticed how she ignored her parchment the rest of the evening for him. For a rainy evening, it was quite nice.

[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.