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angelicyouth · 1 year

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Youth ; Chapter 13

⇢ pairing: kenny mccormick x marsh!reader x craig tucker

⇢ synopsis: ❝Growing up with the boys as the sole girl of the group, it was only natural for them to grow protective over their pseudo-little sister as the years went by.❞

⇢ warning: sexual content

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

“So do they like… Kiss each other and stuff, also?” My brother asks me under the soft material of the blanket the two of us are huddled under, the fleece thrown over both of our shoulders.

I loudly slurp at my instant ramen before answering, the flavorful broth of the soup it was cooked in messily spraying itself over my lips. Laughter resounds around the mouthful of food when I process the question he asks, my brother smirking in amusement as he brings a thumb up to lightly wipe the liquid off.

“Pfft! No, just me. I mean, I wouldn’t mind if they did! But they fight all the time, so… Who knows?” I bring the pair of plastic chopsticks in my hand back into the hot metal pot between the both of us, fishing for another lump of noodles to chew on.

Stan and I opted to eat our midnight snack directly from the container we cooked it in as we almost always do, the both of us usually too lazy to bring out more dishes to separate the food between us. The living room is dark with only multicolored lights dousing our figures in brightness, the television turned on in front of us.

“Hmm.” He hums at my answer as his eyes lazily flicker at the moving images being projected, the anime we decided to put on providing us entertainment for the night.

My eyes distractedly follow the rising steam getting emitted from our food, slowly wafting up as it disappears in a seamless transition into the darkness around us. The gentle murmuring of the show playing provides a dull background noise to my thoughts.

“... I’m sorry for not telling you about it right away.” I silently say into the space between us, the guilt still consuming me even with my brother back at my side and finally talking to me again.

Stan is quiet for a moment and I’m patient—whether he answers me or not. “No, don’t apologize. Don’t ever apologize if you didn’t do anything wrong. Haven’t I taught you not to do that?” My eyebrows slightly crease in confusion at his words before his arms reach out to wrap themselves around my shoulders, bringing my body close to his chest.

There’s a pained expression on his face as he mumbles onto the crown of my head, “... I’m sorry you felt like you had to keep it a secret from me. It hurts to know that I wasn’t the safe haven I’ve always tried to be for you as your big brother, as your other half. It was never my intention to make you feel like you couldn’t tell me anything, that you’d be scared of my reaction.”

My brother's voice drops even lower and despite our close proximity, it’s hard to hear his next words. “… I felt like a failure, N/N. It was humiliating to find out with the rest of the guys, to find out that Kyle knew but not me.”

His eyes clench shut in deep regret for making me feel the need to hide things from him and my hand quickly shoots out to tightly grasp onto the fabric adorning his frame, his shirt soft under my fingertips. “No! No, please don’t think that. Please. This has nothing to do with your ability as my sibling because you’re the best big brother anyone can ever ask for. I’m so lucky to have been born as your sister and I wouldn’t trade this life for a different one, ever.”

When he doesn’t say anything more to my words, I wrap both of my arms around his waist to hug him back. “I understand how this might make you feel and the implications of me not telling you might be, but you’ve got it all wrong. I was only scared because you mean so much to me. I could give less of a shit as to what anyone else says to me about the things I do, but you? Your opinion matters so much to me. I’d be devastated if you thought any less of me, Stan. I love you so much that the idea of you harboring any kind of negative feelings of disgust, disappointment, shame—anything towards me, just tears me apart from the inside.”

My heart weeps at the hurt I’ve inflicted onto my brother, my hushed whispering desperate to convey my feelings. “You don’t have any idea on how much of a pedestal I put you on. We’re only a few minutes apart but I not only admire you so much, but everything that you are and do for me. It’s crazy when you think about the timeline of human history because I could’ve been born in the 1920’s or living my life in the 70’s and you in the 50’s. I often think about how I'm so incredibly lucky that I got to exist at the same time as you, much less as your twin sister. Because really, what are the odds of being born with someone else like that? I love you so much, Stan and I’m so, so sorry for making you feel this way.”

No one says anything for a while before his arms tighten their hold around my frame. His voice is soft, so low as he tells me, “I want you to know that I’m here for you no matter what, always. It doesn’t matter what it is or the consequences that may come with it, I’ll always be there by your side. Yeah, we’re twins which means I get overprotective when it comes to my baby sister. But before anything else, you’re also my best friend, you know? I may get angry or upset but that doesn’t change the fact that I’d help you bury a dead body or something, regardless of what I was feeling. I’d never let my temporary emotions dictate permanent decisions when it comes to you, ever.”

“Even more than Kyle?” My voice is wobbly and thick with tears, my brother fondly snickering at his cry baby little sister and my childish competitiveness.

“Of course, you don’t even have to ask. From the womb to the tomb, right?”

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Please!” Ike whines, his smaller arms wrapped around my shoulders from behind the chair I was currently sitting on in the dining room.

“Leave us alone, Ike. We already have to babysit you, let us finish our homework.” Kyle doesn’t take away his eyes from studiously writing onto the worksheet in front of him, his eyebrows creased in intense concentration.

The curly haired teen and I were originally supposed to meet at Tweek’s cafe to get some assignments done together, that is until Aunt Sheila got called into work for an emergency. When the Jewish red head rang me to inform me of the last minute change to our plans, his brother loudly demanded for me to come over in the background.

“I pinky promise we can play when we’re done, okay? We can do whatever you want and I’ll even make you a snack. My time is all yours once this is finished, I won’t even go home until you’re tucked away in bed and fast asleep.” I softly placate the younger one and his temper, flashing him a reassuring smile. He tightens his limbs around me one last time before letting his hold go with a sigh.

The ravenette sticks out his tongue at his brother before swiping my cell phone from the corner of the wooden structure, plopping himself down onto one of the chairs across from us. I’ve always allowed the younger to use my phone whenever he wants to, most of the apps on my mobile device being games that he's downloaded for when he gets bored.

He rolls his eyes when he sees Kyle eyeing him in warning due to an incident that occurred several years ago. The younger Broflovski got a stern talking to from Uncle Gerald when he began to ignorantly make in-app purchases without my knowledge.

“Ew. Why do you have stinky Kenny and stupid Craig as your lock screen? Wait. Why do you have them as your lock screen AND home screen?!”

“Ah…” Kyle and I exchange an awkward glance, my eyes widening as I motion my head for him to take the reins in offering an explanation. He’s your brother, my eyes silently convey.

He rolls his emerald orbs, a pained expression on his face for having to clarify the unconventional relationship to his younger sibling. “They’re N/N’s boyfriends.”

“Which one?” The elementary schooler asks in irritation, furiously swiping at all of the pictures of Kenny in my digital album. The photogenic blonde has formed a habit of taking a multitude of selfies on my phone whenever I’m not looking—bonus points if he gets Craig in it too before the ravenette pushes him away.

“… Both of them.” The elder Broflovski squints his eyes, watching the younger of the two invasively go through my phone for further evidence of our relationship.

“What! But you were supposed to marry me when I got older! Don't you remember, N/N? When I asked you and Cartman said that you should accept because that was the last time you'd be hearing those words from another human being in this lifetime?” His eyes are wide at the information, his fingers momentarily stuttering to a stop as his disbelieving face looks at the both of us.

I roll my eyes at the reminder of Cartman's constant amusement at my nonexistent love life (he knows the boys and my brother wouldn't allow it, but whatever—now I have two boyfriends while his fatass is all alone!). Kyle just snorts at his brother’s childish dreams, the wishful thinking subtly painting his next words in an indiscreet chuckle.

“You’re too young for her, Ike.” But to no avail, the ravenette’s eyebrows just further creases.

“Sorry little bud, but two’s already a handful. I’m not sure if I can handle three.” I softly smile in affection as I ruffle the tufts of black on his head.

I keep my body leant over the table, comically bringing a hand to cup around my mouth to whisper in conspiracy to him. “And I wouldn’t want them to get jealous of you. It wouldn’t be fair to pit you against them.”

“Ugh!” His tiny body slumps in exasperation despite my words, causing half of his face to be obscured from our view, hidden by the wooden edge of the dining table.

“You can’t, N/N. You just can’t! You were supposed to marry Kyle so we can be official siblings by law!” I loudly laugh at the younger Broflovski’s words for changing his initial stance, trying to grasp whatever remaining straws he could to keep me in the family.

His indignation is endearing as I know that he’d absolutely despise it if his older brother dated me after years of being possessive whenever I came over. It never went away when he was a toddler despite his parents insisting that it was just a phase, much like a baby refusing to share their favorite toy.

I stand to my full height and lazily stretch the kinks out of my body before picking up the moping Ike, his head burrowing into my neck as I walk towards the kitchen. Softly, I plant a small yet reassuring kiss into the soft locks of hair adorning the crown of his head.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go make that snack, yeah?”

I smile into his hair, affection filling me to the core at the fact that the ravenette didn’t seem to care about the number of people romantically involved with me. And if I decided to add extra chocolate syrup to his ice cream sundae as thanks, only Ike would know.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

My lack of vision enhances the rest of my senses, twin pairs of hands holding onto my own and settling onto my lower back to guide my walking form. When I register the sound of water falling, my eyebrows furrow in confusion.

A waterfall..?

We hadn’t walked that far from when the boys decided to ambush and kidnap me from the video games I was playing with Kyle and my brother. This causes my thoughts to wander and shoot theories in rapid fire, trying to form ideas as to where they're taking me. To my knowledge, there wasn't a location like this close to town and that information was a sure fact after going on adventures with the boys throughout our adolescence.

When the soft material of my makeshift blindfold comes off, my eyes sparkle in utter excitement after they adjust to the sudden brightness of the scenery before me. The fragrant smell of flowers strongly engulfs my entire senses, the boys having taken me to the Enchanted Garden we used to sneak into as kids during our fantasy role-play of elves versus humans. Cartman was especially notorious for getting into fights with the old man whose backyard we’re currently in whenever he got caught (his heavy body made his footsteps loud, always making it easy to hear him).

The sound that caught my attention comes from both a fountain of water made of gray marble and a mini waterfall perched high against stacked rocks. We’re surrounded by a colorful assortment of flowers and the vibrant green of well-taken care of grass and trees—their colors so vivid, as if in technicolor despite the inky darkness surrounding us. The white gazebo in the center of the garden has overgrown vines beautifully curling around the lattice of its material and I notice that the boys have added their own flourish, adorning the wood with beautiful fairy lights.

The warmth of the gentle yellow they radiate cascades down like sparkling glitter onto the picnic they set up inside the structure, a careful assortment of snacks and pillows over a large blanket. I can see from my peripherals a pretty bouquet of my favorite flowers next to a charcuterie board, my mind quickly wondering how on earth they got their hands on one as artistically adorned with crackers, meat, cheese, and fruits as this one.

There’s faint music coming in from the old portable radio that Kenny used for our first date to the drive-in, and surrounding the site are a various assortment of tealight candles. They only add to the comforting ambiance of the current illuminance, their flickering embers casting dancing shadows around the area.

I notice that from my standing position, there’s a trail of flower petals leading me to the area of surprise and for a moment it feels like I’ve stopped breathing, at a loss of breath at the effort the boys went through for me. My hand is shaky as I bring it up to my mouth, desperately willing myself to not cry again because it's felt like that's all the boys have seen me do these past few weeks.

A large hand lightly places itself onto my lower back, Craig presenting me with a small smile and a soft chuckle at my watery eyes. Kenny gently grabs onto one of my hands as they guide me with a walk around the whole garden to admire its beauty.

The blonde playfully hand feeds me the food they brought, mimicking those famous paintings of people offering vines flourished with grapes to the mouths of Greek Gods, albeit in a more sultry way. Craig is quick to admonish him about his supposedly bad hygiene and pulls me away from the teen so that I don’t get sick.

Kenny pouts at the distrust before he gently hefts my body up, our shadows joining those inflicted from the fire of the candles as we dance to the tunes of 80’s nostalgia. Our chests softly rise up and down when we lay to join the ravenette, my hands tightly linked with both of theirs as we stare up at the stars greeting us tonight.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

“Can my pretty girl grab the sparkling apple cider from the picnic basket, please?” Kenny adorably asks, a wide grin crossing his features.

I playfully roll my eyes at the blonde for weaponizing his cuteness before I softly smile in fondness, reaching for the basket to the side. The wicker of the bag feels rigid yet smooth against my fingers as I prop the lid open, my entire body freezing at the contents inside of it.

Because there, in the middle of the otherwise empty wooden container, is a small box covered in a soft black velvet with a white bow carefully wrapped around it. My hands tremble when I slowly reach out for it and once the object is comfortably lying on the top of my palms, I look at the boys with wide eyes as they smile at me with affection.

No fucking way...

“Go on, open it.” Craig softly encourages me from the side, his voice hushed as he tucks stray locks of my hair behind my ear.

What greets me is a beautiful ring, the silver band adorned by a simple heart shaped gem. It looks similar to that of a wedding ring with the way that the translucent stone is rather large in appearance and the main focal point of the jewelry. It's simple but cute—it's perfect.

My lips are slightly parted as my breaths come out in short yet quick puffs, my vision blurring from the build up of emotions that the gift has bestowed upon me. Kenny gently grasps onto the metal piece from my hold as he slides it to my ring finger on my left hand, my body slightly shaking in his soft caress.

Once properly on, the blonde makes eye contact with me as he slowly brings my smaller hand to his face. His lips are soft as they graze my now decorated finger, his voice gentle.

“Happy one month, my love. We hope you like your promise ring.”

Ah, I now realize their intentions with extravagantly surprising me here tonight.

A sob rips through my throat, tears of happiness rapidly cascading down my cheeks once they could no longer hold themselves back any longer. My eyes are still on the large rock on my finger, fixated on the physical commitment of love and the material promise of a future together.

Craig softly chuckles at my crying face, mumbling a low cute as he brings a hand to cradle my cheek. His thumb lightly wipes away the wetness from my skin before he brings his face close to mine, pressing a tender kiss to the skin of my forehead.

“I know in most relationships, this would be considered stupidly early. But our love isn’t like most. And well, you’re all that we’ve ever known since we were kids. So to us, it just feels like an official label got placed because this love has always been here. It has always existed and it has never changed. And this promises that it won’t, not ever and definitely not for the worse. You’re the only one for us and this is a physical reminder to you of our loyalty and devotion.” He mumbles against me, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into my sticky cheek.

Kenny grabs onto my shoulder as I continue to cry, bringing me to his chest and wrapping his arms around me. He playfully wails when the ravenette glares at him for taking me away from his hold. “My love, my light, the person I hold dearly to my heart—don’t cry!”

When he looks down at me, his tone of voice changes as he softly coos when I hiccup against his shirt. His hands soothingly run through locks of my hair as he kisses the crown of my head, a smile on his face from my tearful appreciation.

And all I can muster up at this moment are the feelings that I’m most confident of in my heart, so sure in its meaning and the people it’s for. My voice shakes but is certain in its message, in the emotions it conveys.

I love you.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

When I finally calm down and happily munch away on our food, Kenny pulls out his cellphone in order to take a selfie to post on his Coonstagram story to commemorate our date. I warmly grin up to the camera with a peace sign next to my head before the blonde turns his body to face my own, a cute pout on his face.

“No, N/N! You’re supposed to show the promise ring we got you!”

I fiercely blush at his words, the demand making me stutter. “Wha-no! That’s too much, Ken! I don't want to rub it into anyone's faces!”

He rolls his eyes at me, his cellphone on standby with his camera app still open. “Not obviously, duh. Pretend you’re tucking your beautiful hair behind your ear, or something. Just subtly angle your hand so that it catches the light and shows!”

No one even knows about us except for the boys but that's besides the point, I think in indignation at my own embarrassment as I immaturely pout to myself.

“Such a fucking attention whore…” Craig mumbles around a grape he pops into his mouth, his eyes off to the side to look at a curious squirrel passing through.

“Fuck off, asshole. If I have a smokin’ hot girlfriend then I’m gonna show her off to the world—her beauty deserves to be paraded! This is the kind of thing that can end wars!” The blonde is passionate in his speech, his unoccupied hand clenched into a tight fist as his eyes brightly light up in enthusiasm.

“So… For clout?” The ravenette disinterestedly says as he reaches out for a pretzel next, a smirk on his face and clear challenge shining through his eyes as he riles the other male up.

“No, Tucker. Not for fucking clout!” Kenny slams his phone onto the hard deck of the gazebo in indignation and I wince, worried about his already horribly cracked screen.

He huffs before immediately changing his expression to take a picture and smiles when he deems it satisfactory, his fingers quickly darting along the broken glass on his device. I snicker over his shoulder, my arms wrapped around his body from behind as he captions the picture: when ur circle is small but y’all are crazy :P

“If I want to show everyone she’s mine, I’d do it in an entirely different method.” The stoic teen has a slight quirk on his lips as they move around his deep yet husky words, the ravenette roughly wrapping his arms around my waist to pull my body onto his lap.

Craig immediately latches his mouth onto the column of my neck, his tongue quickly darting out to wet the expanse of flesh he has access to before I loudly whimper at the sharp feel of his teeth breaking skin. He’s quick to sooth the area of abuse with a wet kiss and another hot swipe before he has my breaths coming out quick and short at the harsh suction of his mouth.

Only Craig Tucker can take me off guard and literally take my breath away, Lord have mercy.

A large hand comes up under my shirt, cool fingers and rings against warm skin eliciting a chain reaction of goosebumps to appear along my entire body. Unlike his mouth, the ravenette takes his time with slowly trailing his fingers along my sides higher and higher, until they skim against the underwire of my bra.

The teen’s unoccupied hand comes up from behind my back to deftly unhook the offending material, letting it fall from my body. After the removal, another one roughly massages one of the mounds of flesh on my chest and my breath sharply hitches in my throat as his fingers come around to softly pinch at the sensitive nub of my nipple. One of my hands reaches out to hold onto his wrist, squeezing at the enthusiastic onslaught the usually apathetic ravenette is inflicting in two places at once out of seemingly nowhere.

Kenny lazily lounges against the pillows around us as he watches, my eyes mesmerized as I watch the bright red of a strawberry held in his long fingers get engulfed into soft pink. His lips are tantalizing as they wrap around the fruit, his crystal eyes shining in amusement as he leans his larger body over mine.

The blonde takes his time in bringing our faces together before he uses his tongue to push the tender piece of fruit into my own mouth, both of our tongues dancing around the sweetness as he dominates our kiss. When we separate, he keeps our foreheads together as he brings two fingers against my lips. His slender digits apply slight pressure before they get engulfed into my mouth as I instinctively swallow around his fingers and the strawberries he just fed me.

Without removing the point of contact between his hands and me, he takes his time in lightly dragging his slicked fingers down from my face to the column of my neck. His other hand pushes up the rest of my shirt as he continues to trail his digits down until they come around my other breast. Craig removes his hands when the blonde gives attention to that area, using his now free hands to tug at the material of my shirt off of my frame.

As Kenny works his hand on the recently abandoned mound, his other mouth latches itself around the neglected side of my chest and I loudly wail at the wet heat and the teasing scrape of his teeth. He wetly mouths further down against my skin, alternating between dragging his tongue against the length of my body and sucking down against me.

He leaves a wet trail around blossoming shades of a mixture of deep red and vivid purple, marking his way and further claiming me as his own. The blonde hooks his fingers around the belt loops of my jeans, tugging at the coarse material until my legs are relinquished of their hold. When his mouth finally makes it to the fabric covering my heat, he teases me as he licks against the thin barrier between the two of us.

All the sensations I’m currently feeling are overwhelming my body, my nerves alight in a fiery heat. My hands shoot out to tightly hold onto the blanket underneath my body in an attempt to ground myself, my head overloaded with everything I’m feeling at once. I keep myself tethered to my surroundings as I force myself to follow along with the current melody playing around us, the lyrics profound as I listen to their words.

You know that I’m falling and I don’t know what to say

I’ll speak a little louder, I’ll even shout

You know that I’m proud and I can’t get the words out

“I wanna be with you everywhere.” The blonde hotly sings along, mouthing along every curve and dip of my form as if it was his own religion that he was worshiping—as if memorizing my temple of a body and committing it to his memory.

His fingers lightly trail themselves up against my thighs, so agonizingly slow before he softly tugs off the lace of my underwear. The blonde’s attractive face hovers over my body, his dark eyes watching my flushed expression. The hot breath of air that gets let out when he chuckles at the wrecked sight of me hits my slicked skin and a loud sob catches onto my throat from the desperation filling me to its core.

The sound that got caught in my throat gets savagely released into a high pitched wail when his tongue slowly drags itself over my weeping folds, his lips wrapping around that specific small bundle of nerves to lightly suck at it. One of his hands comes up to rest itself against my bucking hips to force my body down, his eyes never leaving my face as he smugly watches the reactions he invokes.

The blonde’s tongue teases my entrance, circling around it and exerting slight pressure that’s not quite enough. My slightly parted lips open wider to whine before the ravenette behind me forces two fingers into my mouth, immediately silencing my words of complaint.

“You don’t want to be a bad girl, right? Because bad girls don’t get to cum.” Craig hoarsely says from behind me and I’m drunk in pleasure as I clumsily jerk my head into a nod against his shoulder.

I harshly suck on his fingers, the wet sound erotic and crude. His voice is both deep and husky behind my ear, commanding in the firmness of his tone and the authority it holds.

The ravenette sounds absolutely wrecked, lust fiercely drowning his words. "Good girl. Just be patient, okay? You don't have to worry your pretty little head off. All you need to do is relax and enjoy—we'll take care of you."

A moan rips through my throat as Kenny begins to fuck me with his tongue, one of my hands shooting out to harshly grab onto a field of blonde hair. He deeply chuckles at my rough treatment, the vibrations sending a jolt of searing heat into my core. My erratic breathing has gotten so loud, drowning out the sounds of the music playing in the background as I can feel the steadily increasing pressure in my lower abdomen build up.

But before the growing bundle of nerves can find their much needed release, the cold air of the night harshly hits my hot core and I wail at the loss of contact from the blonde. His azure eyes bore deep into my form as his tongue lazily works on cleaning up the area around his lips, the area slicked wet from his previous ministrations and from my body’s enthusiastic response.

Kenny kisses me and I can taste myself on him before both boys level the playing field as they strip themselves from their clothes, switching positions as they throw various garments of material carelessly onto the floor. When Craig settles in front of me, his hands roughly grabs onto my waist to flip me over onto my stomach.

The ravenette’s larger hand settles itself under my lower stomach, gently pushing it up to command an arch to my back. The new position washes me in a feeling of intense excitement as I settle myself on my forearms, my body compliant to anything the boys wanted to do with me.

The teen behind me settles a fluffy cushion underneath my abdomen for comfort before pulling his hand away and I feel my lips curve into a fond smile at the caring gesture. The grin quickly gets knocked out of my face when I sharply inhale at the feeling of his length glide over my heat.

Craig takes his time in collecting the wetness from my folds to lightly tease at my skin, making the motion seamless from the natural lubricant. My eyes are creased shut at the sensation before a hand grabs at my chin, angling my head up to look at the smirking blonde above me.

Kenny looks absolutely mesmerizing from this angle, his sweat-slicked skin creating an ethereal glow to his handsome face. The sheen inflicted from our activity further accentuates his firm body, highlighting his slender yet toned form. My attention get interrupted from my admiration of the tantalizing sight as he pumps himself a few times before directing his hard member to my lips, my mouth obediently opening up for him.

He softly groans as he lightly rocks his hips into the hot cavern of my mouth, his hand sliding to the back of my head as he collects all of my loose hair into one hand and away from my face. His grip gets tighter at the eager suction of my mouth, my lips forcing out a moan around the blonde at the slight pain the tugging deliciously feels.

My tongue rubs along the vein running along the underside of his heavy length, my wet muscle alternating between that and swirling itself around his tip. What doesn't fit in my mouth, my hand is quick to tend to the neglected area as it wraps around his remaining girth.

The blonde’s other hand comes up to softly cradle at my red cheek, his thumb soothingly running along at the warm skin. Heavy breathing and small curses of fuck and holy shit’s escape from his parted lips as I hold eye contact with Kenny’s azure orbs, my nerves alight in fire at the extreme pleasure I was providing him with just my mouth.

He smiles at my eagerness to please for my first time as his breathy moans accompany his steady stream of words of praise. He commends my actions with fond eyes, encouraging everything I do.

I loudly moan around the blonde when I feel the blunt head of Craig's member exerting slight pressure at my entrance, his body shallowly fucking his way in as my body slowly eases at the intrusion. He’s careful to not hurt me, allowing my body to command the pace of how much it takes him in and when. The ravenette is patient, his hands on my waist rubbing his thumbs at my sweat-slicked skin and peppering soft kisses in encouragement along the length of my back.

“You’re doing good, babe. Just take your time, the night is all yours.” He mumbles against my skin.

When he finally bottoms out, he keeps his form still as he allows my body to adjust to his length. He doesn’t move until I press my hips against his more firmly in clear want, the motion flipping a switch that sees merciless pounding.

“Fuck, look at you. So pretty just for us, hm?” Kenny says as Craig drills deeper into me, interchanging the motions of his hips to different paces of speed to find out which one makes me the loudest.

When nothing but frantic moans of pleasure escapes my mouth, the ravenette stops his ministrations with expectant eyes.

“That’s not good enough, beautiful. You know that I need to hear you say it. For who, N/N?” Craig dedicates this break to pressing wet kisses against my spine, his hands tightening their grip on my waist in dominant warning.

“For you! For you and Kenny! Only for you two!” I babble around the blonde’s girth, desperation consuming my entire being for the ravenette to continue.

“Good—no one else will do for you after us. We’ll make sure that all your body will crave is Kenny and I after tonight.” He rewards my words by placing a hand onto my lower abdomen, slightly exerting pressure and I whimper at the sensation the actions cause. It feels like I can feel his length inside of me more, the awareness making me feel dizzy at the onslaught of sensations everywhere around me.

“You like that?” Craig speaks up from behind me again when my head starts to drop in overwhelming ecstasy, my blonde lover having to support my head up as he cradles my cheeks so that I can keep my mouth around him.

“I-I like it, I like it! Keep doing it, please.” I whine, tears profusely leaking out from the corner of my eyes.

Kenny laughs while Craig brings a hand down to rub at my neglected bundle of nerves, the combination of sensations further electrifying me. “Fuck, baby. You say things like that and I’ll cum.”

“Cum!” I cry out, eager to please both of the teens inside of me.

“Yeah? You want us to cum inside of you? Want me to fill you up and then fuck my cum in and out of you? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Craig’s pace is relentless as he snaps his hips, the blonde on the other end harshly bucking up into me as he fucks into my mouth at an unforgiving pace.

“So dirty, baby.”

This is the last thing I hear from my blonde haired lover before my orgasm hits me at full force, stars dancing along the back of my eyelids at the intensity of my release as they softly catch my collapsing body. A pair of hands settles me comfortably onto the pillows and blankets, a soft material gently wiping the inside of my thighs and at the moisture on my face.

Soft kisses are pressed against my damp hairline as they mumble words of praise at how good I was being and how good I felt. Against my flushed skin, they ask if I’m okay or if anything hurts, and I sleepily answer all of their concerns with honesty. Arms get wrapped around me, long fingers affectionately running through my hair in cathartic motions that threaten to put my already tired body to sleep.

Fuck, if that was just for our one month... I don't think I'll be able to handle our anniversary.

When my eyes finally flutter open and my breathing has significantly slowed and evened out, both boys are on either side of me and affectionately smiling down at my resting form. I tenderly grin up at their faces, my hands wrapping around both of the arms they have over my waist.

"So... How was it?" The blonde smirks, the slight curve to his face hugging his already knowing expression. It's extremely cocky and just so Kenny that I can't help the soft giggles coming out of my mouth.

He brings a large hand to lightly cradle my face, gently running his thumbs over the vivid blush on the skin of my cheeks from the exertion of earlier.

"I really loved it!" I beam at them as the blonde brings his face closer to softly rub his nose at my skin when a large grin overtakes his blissed out features. Craig snorts in fondness, his fingers never pausing to a stop in between black tresses when he places a kiss to my forehead.

"Yeah, well. I really love you."

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

GROUP CHAT (KENNY MCCORMICK + CRAIG TUCKER)

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): (picture of the palm of his hand)

N/N: ?

FutureAstonaut (Craig): okay, i’ll probably regret asking but i’ll bite

FutureAstonaut (Craig): what the fuck are we supposed to be looking at

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): (close up picture of his palm)

N/N: i don’t get it, ken

N/N: am i supposed to be looking at the piece of lint ur holding?

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): idk but it looks important

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): you should probably come over and pick it up before i lose it

FutureAstonaut (Craig): give it up for kenny mccormick, ladies and gentleman

FutureAstonaut (Craig): once again proving why i keep any group chat with you in it on do not disturb

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): fuck off, asshole

N/N: you’re cute for that :))

N/N: but you could’ve just asked!

FutureAstonaut (Craig): (picture of a piece of unpeeled shrimp on top of a chocolate chip cookie)

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): dude… what?

FutureAstonaut (Craig): sorry, i was just under the impression that we were posting irrelevant pictures in the group chat now

FutureAstonaut (Craig): my bad

N/N: omw ken!

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): ur a fucking asshole, you know that?

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): N/N can’t bring you to my house then

FutureAstonaut (Craig): wait no

FutureAstonaut (Craig): im sorry

FutureAstonaut (Craig): kenny.

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): fuck you

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): btw, you spelled ‘astronaut’ wrong in ur username

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): so you might wanna change it, cause i don’t think i can wait until i’m 70 years old when ur dumbass is finally able to get sent to space

FutureAstonaut (Craig): …

N/N: dw, i’m picking you up babe!

N/N: also

N/N: i’d wait for you even if i was 100 years old and if you aren’t able to by then, then it’s okay

N/N: because i’d wait until the next lifetime and the next, however long it takes if it meant getting to see you achieve ur dreams <3

FutureAstonaut (Craig): i love you

BigDMcCormick (Kenny): (rolling eyes emoji)

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

When Kenny’s cell phone loudly alerts him of a call, he blindly reaches a hand out until his skin meets the cool surface of his mobile device. Bringing it up to his peripherals without ever looking away from the computer screen in front of him, his fingers quickly glide across the surface of glass to accept the call before he places it in between his ear and his shoulder.

“Hello?” The blonde distractedly asks, momentarily snickering at a flawless headshot he just executed.

There’s a moment of silence, only the sounds of quick breathing being heard over the line that the blonde briefly wonders if someone butt-dialed him.

“Kenny.”

Registering Craig’s distinct monotonous voice, he begins to childishly pout through his next words in impatience. “Where the fuck are you guys? I’m starving my fucking ass off, and that’s a lot coming from me.”

The ravenette doesn’t answer for a while, a beat of silence stretching between the two teens and for a second, he starts to think that either the signal is terrible or the call got cut off.

“She never came.”

His eyebrows crease in confusion at the vague words, his hands dropping the controller in his hands to properly hold his phone closer to his ear. As if increasing the pressure would allow him to hear better, that he wrongly misheard.

“… What?”

“Y/N… She never picked me up. I went over to her house because I thought she got held up or something but she’s not here. Her mom told me she left more than half an hour ago and I didn’t even see her on the way to her place.” It’s at this moment that Kenny notices the uncharacteristically weak tone of the ever confident ravenette on the other end of the line, his voice unstable as his words come out shakily.

The usually stoic teen’s words get increasingly hysterical, his panic bleeding thick through his tone. And while Kenny would’ve jumped at the opportunity to make fun of the rare display of emotions, in this particular situation he doesn’t—he can’t.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

The next day on the South Park morning news, Y/N Marsh is officially declared missing.

song: [everywhere - fleetwood mac]

a/n: the ambiance and feel of this song is what influences this entire scene! it's got that sort of soft, warm nostalgia that the romantic tune invokes under the essence of yellow fairy lights ♡

#south park #south park x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #craig tucker x reader #kenny mccormick #craig tucker #south park fanfiction #lalawrites

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sheltershock · 1 year

Text

(Sorry for the long text post, but if you want to read, this is a 2k word essay about Sasha’s backstory.)

I know that Sasha running away from home after discovering as a child that his parents had sex is a well known, and often joked about, aspect of his character. However, to me, I don’t think that is the reason he ran away from home. That earth shattering discovery might have been the catalyst, but not the reason.

Trigger Warning for Emotional Neglect.

There’s a lot to say about Sasha and his level/mindscape, which is great. But something that has always fascinated and impressed me was the memory vaults specifically. Sasha’s two memory vaults not only helps flesh out his character, makes him relatable to the player, and thoroughly explains his relationship dynamic with Razputin. And all of this is done without words.

The first big thing to say about Sasha’s First Loss is that it’s the only memory vault to be displayed in first person(in the typical style. Loboto’s is in 3D so it’s different), aka through Sasha’s eyes. The artistic reason why it’s in first person is because since Sasha is a baby at this point in his life, the artist can use baby furniture and his size to set up framing and composition to tell the story. The story reason for why it’s in first person is because more emotional emphasis can be placed more on his father. Whenever we see tragic stuff in memory vaults we get to see the character who experienced the memory so we can see their anger/sadness/joy/etc. But there’s already emotional baggage next to the vault and it’s titled “Sasha’s First Loss” so we already know what emotion is attached going in. But seeing Sasha’s father’s reaction to his wife’s death is actually really important contextually looking at Sasha’s early life.

The thing is, his dad never really got over his mom’s death. And that ruined everything. It’s like if the start of your life to the end was a race you had to run, and then the announcer says “ready, get set, go” and fired the gun into the air to start the race, waited five seconds, and then shot Sasha in the ankle and expected him to keep going. Of course this leg of the race was going to end horribly.

After we see Sasha’s mother’s soul leave her body, the next slide is of Sasha watching through a window as his dad is grieving/burying his wife. His hand is on the window, as if to reach out to where his parents are, but the pane of glass physically blocks them from reaching each other. This is the first artistic representation of their father-son relationship after his mother’s death. Distance.

The slide after the burying scene is the last one of the memory vault, and it’s my favorite. It depicts Sasha looking at his dad through bars of a baby gate. On Sasha’s side, in the foreground, are blocks and baby toys on a soft blanket. On the other side of the gate, in the middle ground, is a framed photo of his mother sitting, perpetually smiling behind a pane of glass. And in the background of the image, his father is sitting as far as he can be from the foreground, looking out a window with his hands folded and an open book in his lap. I love how the bars of the babygate separate the layers of the image from his dad and the photo of his mom. Especially with the detail that the photo is physically closer to Sasha than his actual living father, yet is still barred from both of them. You can really see the emotional distance the tragedy has caused for the two of them.

This slide not only utilizes the distance from the previous slide, but also introduces a new concept, attention. Despite the fact that your wife just died and you have an infant/toddler to look after, Sasha’s father has instead elected to read a book and look out a window. He doesn’t look at his child, which is a detail that returns in the second vault.

In Sasha’s Second Sight the first slide contains a far older, but still really young, Sasha working in the cobbling store with his dad. This memory vault is in the traditional third person point of view so we can actually see Sasha’s face this time. Again, the distance between the two is obvious. Sasha is in the foreground on the right side, meanwhile his father is in the background but on the left. It’s immediately clear that they never really got closer all these years later. Another detail is that even though they’re both working, Sasha is still looking towards his dad, like in the previous vault, yet his dad’s attention still isn’t on him.

The second slide depicts them both at a work table, but his father is the only one working. Sasha is instead holding up a picture of his mom, the same one from the first vault, and asking about her, meanwhile his dad refuses to share anything. While they are physically closer in this slide, all that credit is removed by the fact that his father’s back is turned to Sasha. Creating yet another barrier between the two.

The third slide is Sasha attempting to look into his father’s thoughts because despite the fact his surname literally means “no” he does not want to take that as an answer. His father’s back is still turned to his son, but he’s grasping his face, clearly still grieving after all this time. We already know what happens on slides four through six, mind reading stuff. Instead I’m skipping to slide seven, where Sasha is now very mentally disturbed.

In his panic, he’s actually turned to face away from his father, but is still glancing towards his direction. And the final slide, slide eight, Sasha runs away from home. Again the distance is there, and stronger than ever. Sasha’s in the foreground, his dad is in the background, and Sasha’s already down the street with a bag over his shoulder. Interestingly enough, Sasha is still glancing back towards his dad, as he watches his son run away from home from the doorway of the store. His dad is just standing there, watching this happen. He’s not calling out for him, or asking if he’s going to be coming back, he just watches. And this is the second time in both memory vaults that his dad actually looks in Sasha’s general direction. I’m serious. The first time was before his wife died and he’s making eye contact with Sasha as his wife does that thing people like to do where they toss their baby into the air and catch them(Sasha’s First Loss, Slide Three). After that point, he never looks at his son until he’s actively running away from him.

Okay, so what’s the point of this? The two big things, distance and attention. Both memory vaults have shown both how far apart emotionally they are from each other, and how Sasha is always looking towards his dad but never getting his attention. And I understand why his dad is acting like this. Loss is complicated and if you get stuck with a child that actively reminds you of that person you lost and is asking about them, I understand why he’d avert his eyes. However, Sasha is a child, with only one living parent that will not look at him. I ask you this: what exactly is Sasha losing by running away from home from an emotional standpoint? Absolutely nothing. All he had of his mother was a framed photo, hidden behind glass, much like the image of his father grieving over a grave. That's all they are to each other, they knew this woman, but in two very clearly different ways. But now, Sasha’s perspective on his mother has changed due to mind reading. He wouldn’t be living with this man who knew his mother and be willing to endure a tense living situation for stories. Now the tension has evolved into discomfort as all this man’s stories will have that underlying image of what he saw, and he doesn’t even seem to like having Sasha around.

Another point towards my argument that it was the neglect that led to the decision is that we know from Razputin that running away is technically a decision that can be reversed. You could go back home, or a relative can go get you and bring you back. But in the last slide of Sasha running away, his father isn’t going to go chase after his kid like Augustus would do. Sasha’s father just kind of… accepts it? He doesn’t know that his kid read his mind, all he’s aware of is that after years of raising this child, he runs away from home and just lets it happen. And from Sasha’s perspective, while yes, his mind is probably torturing himself with new knowledge, he’s still looking back from where he came. But much like how his father’s back was turned to him, creating a barrier between them, his father is standing in front of the store’s door. And his father is built like a fridge, so there might as well be a blockade in front of the door. If your own dad won’t even look in your general direction why the hell would you want to go back to that with the added pressure of already having run away?

Okay, so remember Razputin? It’s fun seeing all the mentor/dad-figure Sasha and Raz content; and it’s very sweet. But it actually makes sense from a character perspective in the text. Sasha’s grown up now and becomes an international superstar secret agent, gets to be a camp counselor, and suddenly this child who’s extremely psychically gifted breaks into the camp. Turns out that this kid ran away from home…and doesn’t want his father to come pick him up due to some strange related angst. Huh. Compelling. Of course Sasha sees himself in this child he’s known for like two hours. It’s like looking into the past really, and Sasha is dying for the chance to take this kid aside for some tests, alone from everyone else. Sasha sees a lot of untapped potential in this kid, and doesn’t doubt the damage Razputin can do. And now he’s teaching this kid PSI-Blast and trying to impart life lessons like keeping control of the mind… He’s putting himself in danger through this shooting course, and ends up pushing Raz out of the way when things really start taking a turn for the worse and making himself take on any pain. He’s letting Raz make a few mistakes, but making sure he’s safe. Just like a parent would do… And oddly enough, throughout the Marksmanship lesson, he’s always keeping a watchful gaze over Razputin and standing close enough that he can feel his presence but not invade the kid’s personal space. It’s almost like he’s stepping into a father figure role for this runaway. Because that is exactly what Sasha’s doing, whether it’s intentional from him or not.

I like to think that Sasha being there as a support for Raz in a way that he wanted/needed as a child is actually a form of healing for him. It’s like that thing where new parents try to be a better version of their parents so they can prevent mistakes. I know Raz was unconscious while Augustus was walking around talking to all the adults so we never get to see him interact with Sasha. But I like to think that he’d be relieved that Razputin’s father immediately chased after his son. And especially relieved that Augustus acknowledges his past wrongdoing and is going to make more of an effort to be there in support of Razputin. It’s sweet to me that at the end of the first game Sasha specifically includes Raz for the Truman Kidnapping mission, stepping up to him, looking down at him and referring to Raz as their “anti-kidnapping specialist.”

Sasha’s backstory always seemed pretty emotionally complex to me, and naturally fit with his relationship with Raz. And like how Milla’s name is pronounced with the obvious “a boy I thought was cute said it wrong so I will say it wrong the rest of my life” explanation is just a surface level, but still valid interpretation, this is my interpretation of Sasha’s early life and the decision to run away.

#psychonauts #sasha nein #psychonauts razputin #razputin aquato #tw: neglect #tw: emotional neglect #essay #shelti essays #this is 2k words #I did this for fun after getting off work and then finishing it when I woke up the next morning #honestly I could write a ton of essays about sasha #he’s a great character in canon and fanon

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slickchickchocolatier · 1 year

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i know we all see how desperate and needy heethan is but i want to see yn that way cuz i know he would just have the time of his live when that happens!!

oh you got it. that will actually be a very good thing to add in chapter 16, my brain is already working something up for that. :) thank you for the ask! this is good! this is very good.

EDIT: I just added the reaction below bc i realize i forgot to paste it below -____-

When Heeseung had to tend to an internship event with Jake that took the entire day, you had no idea that you would have been as bored and lonely as you had felt when you sat alone in his room.

The day was excruciatingly long, he wasn't even able to text or call as often as he would have liked. You already knew, though the extent of his pain in being away from you for so long and not being able to reach out, was way more intense than you had thought. The man had nearly gone insane and snapped, according to Jake, who had detailed Heeseung's behavior much later on.

Keep reading

Waiting as night fell, the pain that you felt in your chest from missing him became too great. It was so lonely, and cold. Most of the time, Heeseung's hands would always be chilled to the bone, yet would warm up quickly when touching your skin, thus warming you. It seems contradicting, but somehow, his cold fingers would warm you to the very bone. You melt.

'I can't ever be without him like this again....'

You mentally noted to yourself as you grew... 'anxious?'

Never have you felt this way for someone's company. It never happened....

'What is going on with me? He's going to be back...why am I...?'

The image of his handsome face appeared in your eyes, you yearned for his touch, his presence, for the sound of his voice. Perhaps it's because you got used to it, seeing as that you spend every waking moment together...or maybe....

Maybe it was because of how he carried himself. His tall and lethal frame, with that cold and hard glare he always issued out to everyone...yet would glisten with stars in his eyes the moment he sets his sights on you.

The way his forearms looked so beautiful and masculine whenever he wore those casual long sleeve shirts and rolled the sleeves a quarter way up...God how much you loved it when he flared his skin that way.

His hands always looking so strong, the veins that trailed up his arms and decorated the back of his palms outlined the years, hours, and days that he put forth into perfecting every craft he's mastered such as dance, basketball, martial arts, and even rugby and a little bit of football. The man truly was unreal, he was a God, a descendant of the great deities in the old and ancient world.

The fact that all the women that would so much as take one glance at him, and falter immediately, while sometimes made you irritated at how far they expressed their desperation for him, would also flatter you as you become overwhelmed with the fact that you have something that everyone else wants, but cannot have....because he was all yours.

Finally, you hear a car pull up from downstairs through the window that sit above his bed. Looking out, you recognize it as your beloved. Unable to contain yourself after thinking of him, to the point where your senses became enraged with the sound of his voice and the smell of his cologned, you rush downstairs and exit the front door.

Running up to him as he exit out of his car, he catches sight of the pretty doll that rushes over to him. Wearing one of his t-shirts, that fitted you like a mini dress. You looked sexy, carefree, and so dear to him like that. Your hair flowing freely as you run through the brisk cold wind and immediately jump up to wrap your arms around his neck, as your legs wrap around his waistline.

Immediately sensing how much you missed him, he chuckles against your neck as he held you against his frame while you remain suspended in the air, wrapped all over him.

The moment you felt his chuckle vibrate against your neck, your grip around his neck tightens.

"Missed me?" he asks in a teasing manner, yet his voice remained dark, deep, and very calm as always.

'God yes....'

You tried your best to remain composed, yet, inch by inch you felt yourself faltering and exposing your neediness for him. Which he obviously could see as the signs were recognizable for someone who has enumerated those very traits since the moment he saw you.

'Oh yes you did. Hehehehe' he mentally chuckles to himself.

The smell of his cologne punches your nostrils, you begin kissing his face relentlessly, the man didn't even have the chance to reach behind and close his car door as his face was trying to respond to your beautiful tender pecks. Issuing them back to you, he finally falters into the immense attention he was receiving from you.

"Mmphm...oh yeah?" he manages out in between your kisses.

"Yes...I missed you."

"Well lets go do something about it." he snarks calmly, carrying you up to his room as if you were a goose feather on his finger.

As he plummeted into you with his thrusts, fucking all of the feeling of lonliness and despair out of you, you felt whole again with him near you, inside of you, on top of you....

"Do-dont leave me...please." you moan out in between his thrusts.

"I'm....never leaving baby...I'm going....to...always...be...here." he groans out in between his thrusts, growling as he issues out his own deep gasps at the feeling of your cavity surrounding his shaft; feeling warm and like the finest silk the world has to offer.

Upon hearing his words, your walls clenched. You recognize the vibration in his motions as he was about to cum.

"P-please cum inside me. Don't leave me. Please! Do-dont leave me alone again!" you moan out.

"Mmmm...never baby! ....Never.....I'm never leaving..." he gasps out in between each sloppy thrust, and finally, releases a days' worth of yearning desire he had forced to contain from being away from you.

Recovering from your high's, you initiated the cuddling as you immediately latched on to him, not wanting to let go. Which he became so delighted in recieving, he loved how needy you were to feel him next to you, let alone being close. It was....

"Hmmm....you missed me that much?" his voice took a deeper tone. An infamous sinister smirk appears on his face, as it still appeared handsome in the most evil way it could appear.

"Yessssssss....I did....please don't leave me again. I'll do anything, please be with me. Touch me. Please touch me and do everything to me. Please...Ethan..." her voice was high and echoed like the whistling of chimes.

"Mmm...Eden....my Eden...."

#anon answered #anon ask #lovely anon #heeseung smut #heeseung imagines #heeseung hard hours

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hopeswriting · 1 year

Text

part 1, part 2

CW: Swearing

Xanxus would wonder if he went insane, but one thing his years in the slums didn’t fuck up is his perfect eyesight.

The shrimp and his mom have apparently finally realized they’ve been mafia all along all these years, and how the hell he’s the only one to realize it’s all bullshit?

“Timoteo-san, Darling,” Nana started pleasantly out of the blue at dinner. “Would it be okay of me to accompany Iemitsu at work when possible? I’ve been a little ashamed lately to not know much about it even after all these years, and frankly, I’d love it too if it could be a way for us to spend more time together. You see, I miss my husband on the daily quite a lot.” She laughed bashfully, looking at Iemitsu with loving eyes.

It came out so out of left field, Xanxus almost snapped at her right there and then.

The fuck did she say?

It shouldn’t have felt like it came out of left field. How could he have possibly missed that kind of development? It’s not as if he ever stopped watching, nor did his brothers, yet the surprise was genuine from all of them.

Iemitsu, lovesick fool as he’s ever been, predictably beamed, tears welling up in his eyes, and started singing praises at his beloved wife. The old man warmly welcomed the new too, brightening and giving his accord right away. His brothers considered the new a moment before dismissing it in the next instant.

Xanxus felt a chill run down his spine looking at the shrimp smiling and laughing at his parents’ antics, not sparing the rest of them a glance, the very image of someone who learned the new at the same time as them. As if—as if there could be any other explanation to Nana’s behavior but him.

So the shrimp can act now, can he?

News fucking flash.

But there was no fool at the table that day like every other.

The first actual reaction to Nana’s words was the old man glancing at the shrimp, with that look he gives him sometimes. Iemitsu managed not to, but Xanxus caught the aborted movement anyway. Rico and himself looked at the shrimp too before catching each other’s eye.

CEDEF and Vongola at large welcomed the new change warmly too, making it the new gossip going through the rumor mill.

Is Nana Sawada finally shedding her old civilian life to give herself fully to the family? Could they expect Iemitsu to eventually choose an official right-hand man or add his wife to his team of his most trusted subordinates? Does that mean…

They trail off at this part, giving each other eloquent looks, letting the unsaid speak for them.

The fools. Just as there’s a rule against a Vongola Boss being of the CEDEF’s boss’ lineage, the CEDEF’s boss can’t pass down his position to any of his relatives, let alone his fucking son. Or do they really think they’d rather break the latter rule instead of the former?

That Iemitsu’s allowed to bring his wife at work is already cutting it close, and adding to it they were allowed to live in the Vongola mansion, the old man better have a plan for when someone will inevitably confront him on the matter.

There were the ones who weren’t so happy at the news too, because there’s always those trashes finding reasons to bitch about this and that, though in this case Xanxus leans more on their side, but generally speaking, Nana Sawada involving herself more in the family has been considered a joyful turn of event.

Ha! “Joyful” his ass. If it was only Nana Sawada, he could pretend to not be as smart as he is and believe it, but the shrimp?

Three years old, and he was already giving them that annoying look of his whenever anyone tried to make him swallow the pill of being mafia through the childish framing of good guys versus bad guys. But now six years old, and he suddenly agrees Vongola are the good guys and he wants to become one of them too?

Give Xanxus a fucking break.

Soon, the sight of Nana anywhere else than at functions and events the wife of the CEDEF’s boss couldn’t be absent from lost its novelty, people moving on and minding their own businesses again, but the fuck if Xanxus will.

He’s been watching them more carefully than before, the shrimp more so than his mom, and turns out he should have seen it coming. The shrimp’s changed, and look at him fucking go, walking the fine line of making it just noticeable enough for the people he wants them to notice to pick up on it, while keeping it subtle enough for the people who know him to not be tipped off by it.

Truthfully, they’ve yet to do anything really noteworthy, let alone anything truly suspicious. They willingly show up at more functions than before, when before they went only to the ones they couldn’t be absent from. They greet the people that ought to be greeted, Nana at Iemitsu’s arm and the shrimp’s hand securely in hers, but instead of waiting in a corner after until the soonest it was polite of them to leave, they keep mingling with the guests. Talking to them, making conversations. Laughing together. Being looked down upon and trying their luck elsewhere. Not finding them good enough and trying their luck elsewhere. Nana along with Iemitsu, but sometimes alone too, often alone, and the shrimp at the kiddies’ corner.

The kiddies’ corner, but by no means the least important corner of these functions, nowhere even close. Not when they’re the future of the mafia, and any older and more experienced mafioso worth his salt, let alone a mafia boss, makes it a point to watch over them, to raise and teach them, to gain their favors and loyalty.

Not when they’re the ones who’ll grow up to inherit the many positions that keep the mafia and Vongola turning, prospering and powerful.

After Nana made it known to the old man she planned to become more involved in the family business, she changed the shrimp’s bodyguards. Not all of them, but she handpicked the new ones who are to be the closest to him and stay with him at all times.

Their backgrounds were thoroughly checked, and all information about them shared among them as it’s customary after the old man gave his approval, but she handpicked them. Or more like gave her approval after the shrimp did.

Xanxus would be overstepping if he looked into what Nana does at CEDEF, so who the fuck knows what does she do there, but Iemitsu is no fool, no matter how much he likes to play the part of it. He must only allow her around the lower ranks and their works, but then again, what the fuck does it matter when she’s the CEDEF’s boss’s wife?

Iemitsu’s no fool, but who else is he supposed to unwind to at night and trust the most in this world?

It doesn’t sit right with him either that Nana looks perfectly fine with that. There’s no reason she shouldn’t be, but she looks like this is where she wanted to be all along.

It’s the same with they way they’re acting with the staff at the mansion. It’s the same way they’ve always been acting with them, saying “Please”, “Thank you”, “Sorry”, “Good morning”, “Would you…?” and “How are you?” like they’re trying to win some fucking most annoyingly polite and considerate people in the world contest, as if they still don’t realize why not anyone else does the same.

Some because they’re assholes, and Xanxus would count himself among them and doesn’t give a shit about it, but mostly they can’t afford their staff to ever forget their place even when off work. Not when they’re the ones who literally watch over their sleep. Now when they’re the ones patching them up at their weakest. Now when they’re the ones entrusted with their kids.

Not when they could be their downfall, should they have the balls, skills and luck for it, working at the heart of the Vongola as they are.

Of course they’re perfectly aware of it too, have to be if they want to keep their jobs, and so far none of them has ever shown the shrimp and his mom anything but strict professionalism in return, but it doesn’t mean they might not be thinking any less. That they don’t care about hierarchy because they’re seemingly unaware of the basic fact the mafia will collapse in and of itself without it no doubt made some of them lose all respect for them, but it leaves everyone else, and they’re all only humans at the end of the day. Especially now there’s intent behind the kindness the shrimp and his mom indiscriminately show them.

Xanxus would know. The first person to become one of his people is Alberta, his former nanny. The second’s one’s Sarah, his former home tutor who caught him up on his education so he wouldn’t be humiliated and looked down upon when they sent him to private school along with the other mafia kids his age.

Xanxus would be overstepping too if he looked into what the shrimp’s been up to at school lately, but he heard his teachers find him more hard-working than before. By which they mean and fail to realize it’s that he’s actually less reluctant than before to learn, because the shrimp’s always been trying his best all along even if it’s never been enough for anyone.

None of these facts have to necessarily be concerning.

Except there’s only a few reasons he can think of as to why they’d be acting like that, only the one reason, and it’s driving him crazy that still, not anyone’s doing anything about it.

Whether Iemitsu is in on it too or not, of course he wouldn’t, but it still sure as hell could be considered insubordination at best, rebellion at worse, and Xanxus won’t care to confront him with that if it comes to that.

The old man’s silence on the matter is obvious too. He’d need much more than that to take action that’d be seen as reasonable considering the extent of the repercussions of even the littlest and most insignificant of his actions.

Richie can’t bother taking care of something that isn’t undeniably his and only his to take care of to save his life. Max’s too self-assured to deem a six years old’s actions concerning, no matter what his actions are. Rico…

The fuck if Xanxus knows, but he has yet to deem it worth acknowledging the matter. That works for Xanxus, as the longer this new status quo lasts, the more he can prepare himself for when it breaks, but he isn’t happy about it.

The shrimp and his mom are obviously trying to build themselves a network, to build connections, to gather allies, if not support too. They seem to have decided to go about it starting from the bottom of the ladder.

And trying to make the shrimp the face of the people with that face and that personality he has?

Fucking hell.

“Master Xanxus,” Anil says after knocking at his door. “Nana Sawada is here.”

“Let her in.”

She walks in, in his sitting room instead of his office, and she better fucking be grateful for it.

“Hello, Xanxus-kun. You asked to see me?”

“I wasn’t asking.”

The smile on her lips doesn’t falter. “I’m sad to hear it. Here I was hoping we could enjoy some time together having a friendly conversation. I don’t suppose you’ll agree to let us speak Japanese then? You know how homesick I can be at times.”

“Then you should have had Iemitsu move to Japan instead,” he says in Italian.

Nana sits on the couch, her smile still not faltering. “Then at least allow me to speak Japanese,” she says, switching to Japanese without waiting for his permission.

“I didn’t allow you to sit.”

She huffs a laugh before finally dropping the meaningless pleasantries, turning her cheerful smile into the slightest turn of her lips upwards. “You get to demand to see me whenever you want, but I don’t need your permission for something as small as when I can sit. Not when it’s only the two of us.”

Xanxus sits on the armchair next to the couch, forcing her to turn her neck to look him in the eye, the low table in front of them bare of any food or drinks. It’s petty power and mind play unbefitting of both their ranks, but anything more would give more weight to this meeting than they’d both want to deal with.

“This is a friendly conversation,” he decides to say first.

“Oh?”

“You heard me. So do friendly tell me just what you think the shrimp and you have been doing lately?”

“What are you under the impression we’ve been doing? For you to summon me like this.”

Xanxus scoffs. “Fucking spare me any of us playing dumb, will you?”

Nana looks at him for a beat of silence, unblinking. “Tsuna wants friends, that’s all. He’s just trying to break out of his shell more to make it happen, and I’m helping him with it.” Xanxus just barely restrains himself from rolling his eyes. He bores his eyes into her instead, and she gives in, though it might have been her plan all along. “He wants a family.”

“Ha!” Xanxus leans forwards, digging his fingers in the armrest. A grin pulls at his lips he can’t be sure isn’t a snarl, and so he smooths his face in a composed mask again. “Then let me ask you again just what do you think you’ve been doing?”

“Would you or any of your brothers keep Iemitsu at his job when you become Vongola Decimo?”

Xanxus misses a beat, the question unexpected. “Of course not.”

It’d even be one of the first positions they’d replace. Iemitsu isn’t lacking at being the CEDEF’s boss, but he’s entirely too much an embodiment of the ninth’s generation, and it’s no secret for anyone he’s the man the old man trusts the most after his Guardians.

“That’s right. And the CEDEF isn’t the CEDEF’s boss’ in a way they can pass it down to anyone but their successor. But you’d have me wait and do nothing?”

“You’re only drawing attention to himself that will bite him in the ass when it doesn’t have to happen at all.”

“Come now, Xanxus-kun,” she says, tilting her head. “Now you’re just calling me stupid to my face. Of course this is attention that is bound to be turned to him sooner than later. We’re just taking control of it.” Xanxus huffs, leaning back against the armchair. It was worth a shot. “Actually, it’s even one of the first things that’ll happen once one of you becomes Vongola Decimo, isn’t it? You’ll decide what to do about the remaining heirs.”

“So fucking what? If you have something to say about our characters, then just spit it out.”

“I’m willing to trust you.” Xanxus raises his eyebrow. ‘Willing to’, is she? “But I won’t trust anyone else on the matter. Can’t.”

“Do you even hear yourself? Your best shot is to keep waiting quietly until one of us becomes Vongola Decimo. What exactly do you think we’re going to do to him then? We’ll be all but too happy to give him the peaceful life in the furthest corner of the mafia he wants.”

“But Tsuna doesn’t just want a peaceful life. He wants to be happy too.”

That makes Xanxus a little speechless despite himself, a little disbelieving. “And that can’t happen as long as we’re part of the picture, is that what you’re fucking saying to me right now?” Nana says nothing, and he barks out a harsh laugh. “Some fucking gall you have. Not finding us good enough, but still wanting to build that happiness using us.”

“He’d just be taking what he’s due.”

Xanxus sobers up in a second, going still and unblinking, and she can’t stop herself from flinching, wincing. Good. “And what the fuck is that? He’s due something from us? I thought you were supposed to give something for that to happen first, instead of going against what you want to make use of.”

“I’d agree if you were only talking about me, but Tsuna’s as much Vongola as the rest of you. He’s as much an heir as the rest of you too, however much I wish he wasn’t.”

“Mafiosi children making it to six years old is a fucking lifetime worth being grateful for in most places in the mafia.”

Nana’s face crumbles at the mere thought of it. She intertwines her hands tight, tight enough to mark her skin with her nails, but she still can’t stop them from shaking.

She only half puts herself back together, her voice strangled. “And how far in adulthood I can expect him to make it?” Xanxus doesn’t trust his anger to speak again just yet, though he wishes she’d hear the scathing mockery in his voice. The old man made it all the way to his sixties fine enough, didn’t he? “I am grateful. But I’m also terrified. That’s exactly why—”

Xanxus kicks the low table, making her startle and tense. He clenches his jaw, gritting his teeth hard, but then forcefully makes himself relax.

He won’t get through her, that much is clear.

“And what is it that’s so much better than this he wants so fucking badly?”

It seems the answer’s obvious to her, yet she holds back her words after opening her mouth. When she opens it again, Xanxus knows it’s not the words she first planned to say that come out of her mouth. “You should come visit us at Namimori sometimes, Xanxus-kun. You could play with Tsuna, go out with him. You could help me cook all your favorites. We’d show you the neighborhood, the town and its people. I think you’d like it.”

Her smile is genuine and warm, and Xanxus dismisses her offer before even truly considering it first.

What a fucking joke. Don’t all roofs above your head and three meals a day look the same everywhere? And Vongola is the least likely roof to ever collapse on him.

“What else would you have him do?” she asks softly. “What else would you have me do? I’m his mother. Timoteo-san should officially name his successor any day now, right? So we’re already running out of time, and he only has Iemitsu’s reputation to his name. But you’d still have me wait?”

Xanxus snorts. “Now you’re the one calling me fucking stupid to my face.”

The shrimp is no such harmless and powerless figure within Vongola, has never been so, and not just because of the inherent influence, status and authority given to him through his lineage. His flames alone would be more than enough for people to rally behind him.

They still could find him incompetent at everything else, but there’s always ways around an incompetent boss.

A weak boss, on the other hand, is a lot harder to deal with without taking extreme measures.

“Fine,” she says, smiling. “Tsuna can stand on his own just fine, of course, and I know that better than anyone else. But that’d just make them find him worth using, and I won’t stand for that.”

Xanxus frowns. So this is it, is it? They’re having the same conversation, but only Xanxus understands all the nuances of it.

Better they find him worth using than them actually becoming interested and invested in him.

“Should I give you a friendly bit of advice seeing as we’re having a friendly conversation?” Something chiding and fond flickers across Nana’s face, so motherly, it makes him uneasy. “You have this under control only until they take it away from you. Only until you’ll have to give it away to them.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“That’s nice and all, but do you get what it’d mean if you were to succeed?”

Nana keeps holding his gaze, unwavering, because of fucking course she does.

Xanxus stands, uncaring of the sneer that slips past him. What a waste of time this was, but at least now he knows exactly where he needs to stand.

“Xanxus-kun.” She holds her hand out to him, and Xanxus can’t help but let his eyes linger on the gesture.

She’s the only mother he’s ever known in the mansion, and though she’s never tried to become their mom too, Xanxus’ never let her be motherly towards him either.

He doesn’t take her hand.

Nana takes it gracefully like she always does, smiling as she takes her hand back. “I know you’re scared.” Xanxus glares at her. “Worried, then. Angry. But I promise he has no intention to take anything that belongs to you and your brothers away from you. He won’t ever do that, you know him. So let us please not be enemies of each other.”

Ha. “Let us not be enemies of each other”, and not “Let us stand together”, huh?

Xanxus feels incredibly stupid to have ever thought her clueless in and unaware of matters of politics.

Xanxus silently sneaks up behind the shrimp, but doesn’t try to conceal his presence from him. His bodyguard lets him, not alerting the shrimp, and so he startles when Xanxus picks him off his feet by the collar of his shirt.

“Let go of me, let go of me!” he screams in fear and panic, kicking his feet and flailing his arms wildly. “Billy-san!” He flares his flames, wrapping his hands around his wrist, and Xanxus feels the heat increasing against his skin.

It’s much too slow a reaction, but at least it’s the correct one.

“How many times must we tell you to always remain aware of your surroundings even at home?”

The shrimp lets go of his wrist, whipping his head to look at him, all tension leaving his body near instantly. “Xan-nii! You scared me!”

He pouts, and Xanxus puts him back down on his feet, rolling his eyes.

“I apologize, master Tsunayoshi,” his bodyguard says.

“Ah, no, it’s okay.” Xanxus glances at him at the same time the shrimp gives him an eloquent look, smiling, and he steps back to give them privacy. “I was paying attention,” he says, looking back at him.

“Shrimp,” Xanxus cuts him off before he can tell him it’s just that he doesn’t see him as a threat to him. He doesn’t want to hear it today. “Whatever you’re planning to do, stop it while you still can.”

Xanxus failed to knock some sense in the mother, but maybe the son will fucking listen.

Or maybe not, a serious and determined look taking over the shrimp’s face.

“I just—”

“Want friends, yes, yes,” he parrots mockingly. “But you want a family too, don’t you?”

The shrimp frowns, before some sort of realization dawns on him. He shakes his head. “No, not like that.” Xanxus’ brow twitches. What does that mean? Maybe he also was missing some nuance when talking to Nana. “Xan-nii—” He steps forwards, but stops himself from reaching out to him. “Home doesn’t have to only be Vongola, does it?” he says softly, carefully, watching out for his reaction. “And family either.”

Right. Xanxus wasn’t missing anything, but he sure as fuck still doesn’t get it.

Vongola is the first home he’s ever had. Maybe not family too, but sure as hell family in the way everyone else means it.

Rico’s the one who constantly stayed by his side for days on end after his first kill, even sleeping with him, and refusing to leave no matter how many times or how violently Xanxus snapped at him until he could finally eat with his hands without throwing up the food right after.

Max’s the one who taught him he didn’t have to get rid of his temper, only had to learn to control it to help him get the things he wants faster and easier, and he never let it make him cower from him all the while.

Richie’s the one who taught him about pride, who looked at a pathetic boy from the slums with only a delusional mother for family and told him he was allowed pride too, especially considering how hard he was working for it.

The old man is the one who took him in and out of the slums.

Vongola is the only home Xanxus wants and gives a shit about.

“You think you’re so much fucking better than us.”

The shrimp steps back, frowning, confused. “That’s not true. I like you, Xan-nii. You always look at me even if I don’t make you. You always look at people, and I like that.” Xanxus would feel guilty if he was a better person. That’s just survival, something he picked up from the slums and proved useful in the Vongola mansion too, so of course he kept it and sharpened it. “I like Rico-nii, Max-nii and Richi-nii too. Grandpa too. I just…”

Xanxus bristles at the worried look he gives him, tensing. He never could get used to the perceptiveness that apparently runs through their blood. Some dumb fuck called it hyper intuition, as if there’s something mystical or supernatural to it when it’s just a matter of knowing people and paying attention to them, but it does always put him the most on edge when coming from the shrimp.

Nana said the old man should officially announce his successor any day now.

He should, but he has yet to do it even if Xanxus is the only and obvious choice to make.

He’s been the most favorite Vongola Decimo candidate for a year now, give or take, which is no fucking easy feat when his brothers have been fighting him tooth and nails all along to replace him in that position. But he’s been holding on strong, yet the old man is still clearly hesitating.

Xanxus still has to find any of his Guardians compared to his brothers. Though as far as Vongola and the mafia at large know, he already has the six of them and it’s just a matter of him making it official, if for no other reason than because he got sick of all those trashes throwing themselves at him in the hope of becoming his Guardian. Obviously the old man wouldn’t be fooled by it, but it still doesn’t explain it. It’s not like they’d do the passing of the rings right after announcing the official successor, and it’s not as if Xanxus hasn’t been searching for his Guardians.

The fuck else can Xanxus do to finally be enough in the old man’s eyes too? To receive the same look he sometimes gives the shrimp, and the same look of approval and pride he gives to his brothers?

He wishes he knew.

He already tried everything and succeed at them.

He wishes the old man would just tell him what it is, but the longer he doesn’t, even now, the more resolved Xanxus becomes to find out himself.

The shrimp grabs his hand, obviously growing uneasy at his silence. “Xan-nii. I don’t care about Vongola, I swear. You can have it.”

He doesn’t fucking say.

Xanxus wishes he’d care.

You’re careful about the things you do to something you care about, careful not to end up breaking them.

“So you’re saying you could take it from us if you wanted to?”

The shrimp falters, loosening his hold on his hand. “No, that’s not…”

Xanxus frees his hand fully, crouching in front of him. “Listen, Shrimp. Why do you think we try so hard to have people on our side and keep them on our side? The people’s will is power in and of itself. Keep acting like that, and they’ll make you want Vongola too.”

“But I have my will too,” he says, frowning. “I won’t let them.”

“Yeah, great fucking idea. And what do you think will happen to Vongola when you’ll fight about who gets to do what they want?”

The shrimp stops frowning, clearly not confused by his words, clearly getting the meaning of them perfectly.

He still only gives him a shrug, keeping holding his gaze, unwavering.

Because of fucking course he does.

This is now or never to nip this in the bud, Xanxus feels it deep in his guts. To nip him in the bud.

Federico be damned, because there’ll be no turning back if they let this grow any further. If they let him grow any further.

But Xanxus’ the one the shrimp first came to, bruised from the beating he got at school, and the one in front of whom he burst out crying. Xanxus had gone to his school the very same day, and it didn’t help him make friends, but no one ever put a hand on him ever again, that’s for fucking sure.

Xanxus’ the one he first called by his nickname even if he never made any effort to scare him less, what with his temper, cursing and rough appearance.

Xanxus’ the one he confesses to about how much he doesn’t like all his mafia training, education and upbringing, and how he often wonders what it’d be like if he was just normal. Xanxus mocks him and makes fun of him for it too, but apparently not in a way that hurts him when other people do the same.

There’s only ever been family to Xanxus ever since the old man took him in, but there’s always been family and family to the shrimp, and he’s the one who should know they were never meant to be made to choose between the two.

Xanxus laughs.

What a fucking mess.

#katekyo hitman reborn #khr #khr fanfic #khr xanxus #sawada tsunayoshi #sawada nana #wip khr #brt (aswoi) wip #< i titled this au just for convenience's sake so don't get your hopes up #it DOES write itself more easily than i was fearing tho #but does it make SENSE zerdhddf?? are the politics laid out here believable??? 😭#also the chapter might be too exposition and dialogue heavy but like #this is the kind of au it's gonna be so you know *shrugs*#hope's writing #mine

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lemonhemlock · 2 years

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I enjoyed your post about Rhaenyra taking action in regard to her marriage. What was your opinion on her plan surrounding her second marriage and Laenor's "death"? Smart move? Bad move? I always thought it was very risky as she risks losing the Velaryons.

Thank you for your kind message! I suppose I understand why they did it this way. They wanted to avoid killing off a gay character, when the show already included enough women dying in childbirth (or via divorce rock). I accept the urge to cater to modern-day sensibilities and have to admit that my own first-reaction was that it was a welcome change from the books. The idea of Laenor living a nice life in Essos with Qarl sounds good on paper, but does kind of fall apart when you start to analyse it.

Laenor's POV

The main problem is that this fix requires us to believe that Laenor is both willing to abandon his entire family at a moment's notice just day(s) after the funeral of his only sibling AND not return to Westeros ever again. Even though they will end up fighting for their literal lives in a very violent war, EVEN THOUGH he is a dragon-rider and could actually, notably help with the war effort. I think Laenor's character does support a rather negative reading in this light. I'm not particularly invested in Laenor being "good" or "bad", but it does say a lot about show!Laenor - mainly that he really is a selfish dick.

Even if the Dance never happened and his family would have been indefinitely safe in his absence, he still knows that his parents think him dead and have lost both of their children in a very short period of time. I can't image how gut-wrenching that would be! I sympathize that he is unable to live his life openly, but it just seems like a needless act of cruelty. Laenor's life was certainly never ideal, but he still benefited from a lot of privilege and could pursue his romantic exploits without anyone chastising him. That's still a lot more freedom than the majority of the Westerosi gay community would ever get to experience.

The further problem is that, while he admits to loving Jace/Luke/Joffrey even though they're not his biological children, he is still essentially abandoning them to a society that will never accept Rhaenyra's lies. They are very likely to be in danger at some point and he won't be able to help them.

Rhaenyra's POV

Something that didn't sit well with me was that Laenor specifically told Rhaenyra he was ready to recommit himself to her and their children, then she replied "thanks, but no thanks" and forced this decision on him.

Like many other times in Rhaenyra's life, she thinks she is making a generous offer, but the terms could actually be perceived as batty by the other side. What would she have done if Laenor refused? Killed him? She is basically asking him to abandon his entire family and never return. Just because Daemon is finally available for her to marry? My gosh. That's a crazy level of entitlement and norm-breaking.

What guarantee does she have that Laenor won't return? Will she have to kill him if he returns? Maybe he is racked with guilt and changes his mind!

Marrying Daemon is also a really bad idea. She was only named heir in the first place to avoid putting Daemon in proximity to the throne. 🤦‍♀️ Because Daemon was not well-liked in Westeros, to say the least. She is alienating a lot of potential allies with this moves. Instead of being a conciliator, she is being divisive.

In addition, the show-runners will have to solve the Seasmoke conundrum somehow.

Considerations on framing

Another thing that bugs me about this is that is basically turns Daemyra into woke LGBTQ allies, which is a plot twist that provides them with WAY too much grace in the eyes of the audience in relation to their awfulness as people and as political actors. The viewers are basically being manipulated to the Blacks' side with this unexpected brownie point that came out of nowhere. Of course they all watched the show and turned into black stans. Who are they gonna side with? Promoter-of-minority-rights Rhaenyra or rapist!Aegon? 🤷‍♀️

If your intention is to tell a balanced story, this is not the way to go. If the show-runners really wanted to furnish Daemyra with this VERY indulgent and overly-positive interpretation, they should balance it out with a concession for the Green side. At the very least drop the child-fighting-pit detail for Aegon, because this is just ridiculous bias.

#ask #anon #laenor velaryon #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #asoiaf

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aecho-again · 1 year

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💯 💤 ❤️ 💔 🤔 and 😞 for Helios!

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

He was reframed and received a new identity which means that the original Helios' memories were wiped and his spark + blank processor were put into a new frame. I like to think that he was a cold-constructed medivac helicopter that came from the same assembly line as Ambulon (or the mech he was before he changed his name) :-D and that his willingness to help the socially excluded was the reason why the government decided to reframe him, just like countless other mechs.

In the story, he is actually his universe's version of Ambulon because I created him before I knew about Ambi's existence and my first reaction to him was "Wow, he's just like him for real". And in January I decided to merge them together so now I have this weird headcanon that they're the same person :-)

Sometimes a hallucination of his brother appears before him and he doesn't know what to think of it. Only when Firecry's team joins the Stellar Observatory and Carbonlight comes on board does the image of his brother start to talk to him and tries to manipulate him. As it turns out it's the shapeshifter that lives in Carbonlight which takes on his brother's appearance and it knows what his brother looked like because the shapeshifter was the one who killed him.

💤 SLEEPING SIGN — is your oc a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper? how are their sleeping habits?

Helios is an insomniac and a light sleeper, but he relaxes when someone he can trust is nearby (Nightjet and later Ironwing). Being held also helps. On special occasions, Ironwing will hum a song that lulls him to sleep and the three of them will form a cuddle pile. I love cuddly robots.

❤️ RED HEART — what are three of your oc's positive traits?

He is loyal to a fault, has learned to be selfless and will always try his hardest to make others like him.

💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits?

He is self-sacrificing, has no ambitions and is a coward at heart.

🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms?

Unlike the other rotaries from his model line, he paints his silvery parts in yellow and orange. The rest of his plating is in standard gray.

He looks like a kicked puppy whenever he's confused or doesn't know what to do.

His finials as well as his rotors have been locked in place and can't move freely like they used to, preventing him from emoting with them.

When he's feeling down, he finds a quiet place and lies on the floor while listening to music half-consciously.

During his time on Earth, he discovers funny videos on the internet and becomes slightly addicted to them if only for the fact that they are the only thing that can genuinely make him laugh and feel good, until he meets the Stellar Observatory's crew.

😞 DISAPPOINTED FACE — does your oc attract others, or do they tend to be left alone?

Always go for the more tragic option: While he tries to make friends, he adopts an overly cheerful persona that comes off as forced and uncanny and in turn drives others away. When he drops the act and returns to his normal self is the only time anyone can like him ...and that's how he became friends with Nightjet and Ironwing.

#anon asks #ask game #the juxtaposition of how I write him and how I draw him is hilarious #in text he's a bundle of angst but on the canvas he's a bundle of uncanny smiling sunshine lmao #his joyful expressions need to become more uncanny #this was supposed to be a pained smile but it doesn't really show nooo

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aaroncutler · 9 months

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Two Year-End Lists

January 7th: This post contains links to two sets of year-end lists, both in the Spanish language, and both of which include my contributions (as have multiple past editions). One is “La Internacional Cinéfila” (“The International Cinephile”), a polling of various people that work with cinema in different contexts (primarily critics, filmmakers, and festival programmers) that is organized annually by the Argentinian critic and programmer Roger Koza through his website, Con los ojos abiertos ("With open eyes"). The other is a polling of a wide range of film personalities (that additionally includes scholars and moving image-based artists who work primarily with expanded cinema) for the website desistfilm that was organized by the site's editor, the Peruvian critic Mónica Delgado.

As I allude to in both of my contributions, I watched an unusually low number of new films this year, the vast majority of which were seen through preview screeners with my attention wavering – the major reason, of course, being the presence in my and my wife Mariana’s lives of a newborn daughter named Ava who has been recently joining us at the cinema. Under such circumstances, I find it hard to feel bad about falling behind, including because certain recently premiered works that I have not seen and that are beloved by peers (for example, Victor Erice’s Close Your Eyes) will almost certainly stand the test of time.

As I have done in the past, I chose to send different lists of films to the two publications for the sake of drawing attention to a greater number of worthy works. I feel a few immediate reactions now as I peruse the two documents overall. One is the feeling of simple amazement at perceiving how many important films premiered in non-competition slots at the most recent edition of Cannes, including the latest works by vital contemporary filmmakers such as Erice, Lisandro Alonso, Pedro Costa, Jean-Luc Godard, Steve McQueen, Kleber Mendonça Filho, Martin Scorsese, and Wang Bing – a gathering that could credibly serve as a “year’s best” list unto itself. For all its problems (which have been discussed by critics elsewhere), to me this gesture of simultaneous consolidation and marginalization on the part of Cannes's organizers offers the hope of reminding cinephiles of the importance of looking beyond a narrowly defined center.

Otherwise, I was pleasantly surprised to see how many colleagues in the “La Internacional Cinéfila” gathering shared my regard for María Aparicio’s Undefined Things, a nuanced Argentinian metafiction about an older female film editor in crisis that observes its characters keenly and with tremendous love. And, although I wasn’t especially surprised at the outcome, I was nonetheless gladdened to see the top spot in both aggregate polls go to a film that appeared on my desistfilm list, Aki Kaurismäki’s Fallen Leaves (which indeed premiered in Cannes’s main competition).

I find a charming and even heroic quality in the Finnish filmmaker’s decision to present something like a 1930s Hollywood urban romance for our own particular modern times. The film inspires with its commitment to human values and envisioning of a reality in which people continue to consciously regard each other in spite of the innumerable forces that tell them to look away. As has almost always been the case for me with Kaurismäki’s work, I find the care that the filmmaker takes with his actors on multiple levels (casting, framing, editing, directing) to be especially extraordinary. The key idea in the film, for me at this moment, is the necessity of living one’s life with full attention on the local. And, as is pointed out in Mónica Delgado’s marvelous review of Fallen Leaves for desistfilm, that attention has always been present on Kaurismäki’s part. The changes that have made his new film land so firmly with so many spectators, perhaps, lie with the contemporary needs that it addresses. In any case, we are fortunate to continue to find artworks that argue in favor of a more humane world.

On that note: One of the chief pleasures of perusing best-of lists, of course, is reading about great works of which one was not previously aware. I look forward to discovering these films for myself, both in 2024 and beyond.

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cleekleequlee · 1 year

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Boardgame as prototype of academia? Thoughts on "Weather Machine"

My older son Walle is very interested in all sorts of board games. Most of the board games he likes to play is not very sophisticated, some are purely chance/luck based. Not being a fun of games in general, I play with him upon his request from time to time to teach him about rules (like taking turns and understanding boundaries) and reflective thinking.

In our recent tour to Chiang Mai, Thailand, we stayed in a superhost Airbnb owned by an ex-film director, who claims the biggest hobby is “collect board games”. Suddenly the love for board game becomes something of a longer time frame and bigger value. Again as a result of Walle’s strong interest, we played the “exploding cat”, a card game in which people will try all different action they could do with different cards (e.g., have a sneak peek of the cards to come and shuffle them) to avoid picking up the “exploding cat” which will get the player out of the game. It was fun for me as with group dynamics, intended moves could create unintended consequences, and the intensity of the game grow with the process of the game.

When we get back home, I got one box for ourselves. Upon receiving the box, Walle was super excited reading the rules, checking out the promotion code came with it, finding instruction for the electronic gadget attached in it. A video by the inventor of the game pointed out that the game is a variation of “Russian Roulette”. Aha!

So this morning I was checking out of interest what are some of the more updated fun board games out there, and there are plenty. Some are about wars, others are car racing (!) There is also a website /magazine? called BoardGameGeek who give out awards every year. Something to check out later!

There is one game called “weather machine” which caught my eyes. My interest in the word “weather” is almost completely unconscious but not without reason. Weather is usually used as example for chaos theory. For example the earliest use of the word “bifurcation” in describing sudden shift of system originates in Lorenz’ modeling for weather forecast, using non-linear equations. Weather is always a concern for The Muddy School as we operated outdoor a lot and summer thunder storm is a constant struggle. Theoretically Tim Ingold use to discuss air and land. Whether for him can bear lots of analogies. And also recently extreme weather conditions become more and more of a concern. News like California bushfire, Hawaii fire, and Beijing flood appears almost daily, and recent mud and rock flow close to my parents’ house in Xi’an killed at least 20+ people.

So how would a board game in 2022 address weather?

Turns out this game is also very much “research oriented”, not only in the way of using science to understand how weather works, but the game itself is about “how to operate in academic”. The activities involved in the game including choosing a field, doing field research and collect data, publish paper, citation, winning award etc, with winning the Nobel award as the ultimate goal.

It was funny to read in its description that publishing a paper can also be a game activity. Obviously it is too far away from normal non-academic people’s life, and whoever gets the “joke”, aren’t they having enough of it in their REAL life? “Who would play that kind of game? And what for?” was my first reaction. But apparently, this game has been quite well received by people who used to be or are still in academia. Some people are buying it for the whole lab (!)

People may have enjoyed it for different reasons, maybe they are being nostalgic of the research days, maybe they play it as group insider jokes. Imaging a group of researcher playing it and their spouses / non-researcher friends in the room thinking “what the heck are you doing”, or maybe they will join and start to understand for the first time what their husbands/wives do for a living for the first time. Maybe a professor can play it with his new PhDs as academia 101 class! (Think of all the 劇本殺 “screenplay kills” which are so popular in China, it is perfect for education purpose too)

I have been grappling with the topic of methodology a lot in the past week. What I think will be central to my inquiry is how a different understanding of the world (inspired by being in the nature) would change not only way of living / doing, but also our understanding of research and role of researcher. In that sense where I’m heading to is very different to the post-positivist view that underwrites this board game.

If academia way of life and logic of can be taught as a rule through board game, can it also be used to prototype another way of doing things, the intimate relations between practice and theory, personal and professional, rational and affective? Can it be used to understand the concept and dynamics, and maybe…influence more people and change the rules? Suddenly this board game seems to become a potential research outcome. The fact that this game “weather machine” started on Kickstarter is even more encouraging.

Now I need to figure out how to get a copy of this without costing a fortune…

#Living life as inquiry

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yoondles · 3 years

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Unholy - P.JM

Devil! P.JM x Reader

Summary: The Devil doesn’t ask for repentance, he punishes those who fail to repent.

Themes: A few religious hints here and there but it’s just porn without plot

Word Count: 5k, edited if you close your eyes

Inspo: nothing but ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵒˡʸ ᵇᶦᵇˡᵉ jk

Warnings: Degradation (he calls you a whore), huge dick like hUge, fingering, oral (m receiving), bondage, unprotected seggs, rough seggs?, teasing/edging, creampie, mature language, mentions of murder, drug dealing, and Jimin is a 🤏 cunty.

A yawn. It was what had woken you up, it was ironic however, the person who yawned must’ve pulled something from his muscles that he had to yell loudly. His bones cracked as your eyes opened, lashes fluttering as you sneaked a glance towards his direction. He cocked one of his eyebrows up, giving you a look that he was indeed better than you. You tried your best to move around, only to find out that you were held locked against the mattress.

The chains repeatedly moved against the wooden frame of the large bed. Your legs were locked up, but most importantly, you were naked. Cheeks tinted a pink hue as your observed the entirety of the room, your heart was pounding against your chest as you tried to cover yourself. Your eyes avoided his, gazing at the dark hues of red that scattered around the room.

The cold air did nothing but remind you of your current form, knees quivering as your nipples went hard from the cool breeze. Breath halting as you felt the man beside you breath against your neck. “Where am I?” You dared to ask, after all, your mouth had not been forced shut, might as well put it to use.

“Ah, the pure innocence humans have when they’ve finally reached my domain.” He muttered, his shoes clacking against the tile of the room. Pushing his tongue in his cheek as he fixed his coat, gently placing it behind the chair as he dragged it lazily in front of you. “You’re in hell, darling!” He exclaimed, eyes turning bright as he met your terrified eyes, pearly white teeth glowing brightly in enthusiasm. “No, seriously, where the fuck am I?”

“Well, aren’t you a crude little brat?”

“This is fantastic, you little grievances just keep on getting cocky,” He was annoyed, licking his lips as he gazed at the corner of the room, as if he were trying to calm himself down. He pushed his hair back, cracking his neck before gently placing both of his hands in his hips. A derisive gaze lingered on your body as he eyed your entirety.

The silver from his ears glowed brightly under the light that illuminated the room, his prominent cheek bones were highlighted, his plump lips were slightly open as he finally moved to meet your eyes. “Having the time of your life, aren’t you?” You wondered how long you’ve been staring at him, nitpicking, trying hard to find a flaw in his image. His mood was quick to change as he leaned forward, hands reaching your neck before enclosing it in a inhumane grasp, limiting the oxygen that flowed within you. “Always so fragile.” He muttered under his breath, watching the way your veins would appear.

You choked out a breath. You coughed out as his hands began travelling south, touching the area around your hard nipples but being careful to the point that he doesn’t allow himself to touch them. “Get your hands off of me, freak!” You yelled, the sound of metal rattling blasting the entire room.

He seemed unfazed. “You’re a feisty little bitch for someone who’s supposed to be punished, very ill-mannered if I may add. I’ll talk to God about this design flaw,” he was shaking his head as he grabbed a small notebook from his coat pocket, alongside a pen, writing down his observations as he muttered against his lips. “What?” You yelled once again, chains rattling loudly as you did your best to run away from this lunatic. “God, as in G, O, D. Father of almighty, creator of heaven and earth, do you want me to continue reciting the Apostles’ Creed?”

“Stop playing around, just — let’s get this over with, I want to go home.” He was confused, completely taken aback by your sudden submission, closing your eyes as if you were waiting for something to happen. Thunder rumbled from the outside, as the ground slightly shook. “Completely lost will to live, shows lack of loyalty...” the sound his pen made against the grain of the paper brought you back to reality, you couldn’t help but laugh at how much he took this seriously. Sure, it was one thing to live in your fantasy, but to write things as if this were reality? What type of weed did he smoke to get this high?

You let out a yelp as his fingers hit your exposed cunt, wincing as he shifted the pen back to its’ original position, closing the notebook with his pen inside. “May I remind you, you’re in hell, darling. You don’t get to boss me around, most importantly, you don’t get to push me into listening to your orders.”

The tone of his voice never faltered, “you’ve been quite a naughty little bitch out there, criminal records going quite far. You’re going to love it here, maybe you’d roam around as a middle class woman, especially with that reputation.” You shut your mouth, pulling once more as you tried your best to break free. No one knew about your criminal records, no one knew that you did illegal work. So who the hell was he, coming out here and telling you about this? You suppose he was a man of power, or maybe the police had finally caught you, you had no idea. “Normally I’d approve of it, you know, living your own life. However, you brought this hellhole, quite literally, so many souls. Imagine having to get in a queue to enter hell. All the drug dealing, corruption of innocent souls, let’s not forget about the old woman you forced your subordinates to run over.”

“H-how?”

“I rule hell! For someone who’s been living a life as lavish as yours, you’re quite dumb.”

His fingers were tracing small circles in your stomach, pinching it every once in a while as you moved your hips trying to avoid his warm hands. “So, you’re Satan?” He pulled his hand away, rolling his eyes. “Of course, that’s what you would say...” he pushed his slick hair back situating himself in the chair near your bed. “Whichever you prefer, however, the lilt the name Jimin has is something I’m quite fond of.”

It was distracting trying to listen to him as his fingers slapped your cunt once more, forcing you to hold your breath. You tried your best to limit your reactions, trying to not feed into his ego as you were already held captive and bound. Whether he was lying or not, you had to at least play safely around him. His hands travelled towards your thighs, quietly observing the way you would react. The way you would shiver every moment he inched up closer to your weeping vulva. “You’re such fragile creatures, y/n.” Closing your eyes as you felt him inch closer, his breath fanned over your clavicle. “Fragile enough to be tempted by the devil himself, aren’t we?” You whispered in his ear, breath shaking as his skin came in contact with yours. He let out a laugh, hands flying towards your needy breasts as he drew lines with his finger. “That’s a common misconception, darling.”

His eyes failed to meet yours as he continued to harvest reactions and small almost undetectable movements from your body. He was left in awe with the way you responded, shivers ran up and down your spine, breath hitching, the small goosebumps that formed, you were intriguing. “The devil doesn’t tempt you. You imbeciles try so hard to find someone to accuse of your haughty little actions. May I remind you, you’re in control.”

“Well, not right now.” His dark eyes held fire within them as he found yours, gaze burning holes in your body as you finally stopped resisting. There was something about the way he talked, the way he felt so close to you, the way he focused on you and you alone. You felt something from deep within you combust.

“You do everything just to avoid responsibility for your own actions, tell me, y/n. How does it feel to become powerless now that you’re here?” You closed your eyes tight, toes curling as one of his fingers found your clit. His voice dropping octaves as he rolled the pads of his fingers against the wet bundle of nerves. Your eyes rolled back as your limbs rattled the chains in protest.

“Is there a flush of regret? Maybe a hint of happiness because you’re a masochist? Tell me,” you shook your head, still refusing to fall into his hands as he moved faster. Failure to elicit sound lead to a sudden halt in his movements, a whine would emanate from your lips, before he started to move his fingers once more. A sexual punishment where you never reach the peak, a mixture of annoyance, pleasure and humiliation bubbled inside you.

“Your mouth shuts itself off, doesn’t it?” Fingers moving lower, and lower, and lower, finally penetrating your hole as your lips parted. Slick coating it before accepting it with the warmth of your unexplored cavern, he let out a sigh out of satisfaction. You were clueless, you had no idea when you had become this wet, but you were thankful for the penetration. Sighing, you pushed yourself towards his finger as you tried to reach for more, to push him even further inside you. “Oh my,” he was amused, laughing at the humiliating actions you made just to feel more of him.

“Humans tend to break so easily. This time around, I’d be honoured to tell you that maybe I did tempt you. But all I did was fuel the sexual drive you had, nothing more.” You tried to shut him off, your hips grinding harder against the single finger deep within you. Moaning ever so silently, desperate to climax on your own. He remained motionless, doing nothing to help you. You were eager to feel the knot inside your stomach unravel before him. “I wish you’d see how pathetic you look, y/n.” Still you didn’t stop, tears rimmed your eyes as you tried to chase something far away from you. You felt yourself moving closer to the edge, the lack of stimulation from both your clit and your insides had been nothing but excruciating.

Despite the many whines you let loose, he still wouldn’t budge. He left you fending for yourself as the rough spot from within you begged for any form of contact. His fingers were deep enough, but due to the restraints you weren’t able to angle yourself to the perfect position. Hence, his fingers danced around the spot, never touching it. Absentmindedly pushed yourself, you never reached what you had been searching for. The corners of your eyes were starting to fill up with tears due to the pent up frustration that’s been keeping you grounded. Jimin watched in amusement, one of his eyebrows perked upwards as he let his smile loose.

“I c-can’t.” Your elbows were shaking, using them as leverage in order to get into the angle you needed in order to push yourself. In the end, you were nothing but a puddle of your own arousal and sweat. “Please, just— move,” your words were nothing but a whisper, but he heard your pleas. After all, the Devil was always listening.

“Let’s get things straight, y/n. I’m not here to ask you for repentance, you’re beyond that point. You’re here for punishment, not for pleasure.” The tears finally managed to escape your eyes, crying as you did your best to get off. However, with your lack of mobility plus his unforgiving form of punishment, you grew more impatient and far more frustrated. “Please, please, please...” you begged, pleas growing far more silent as seconds passed by. He huffed, pulling has hand away as you uncontrollably shook your head in protest. He grabbed a handkerchief, wiping his finger diligently. “Begging won’t do anything, darling. The devil never settles for bare minimum.”

Maybe it was the touch he cared to give you earlier, maybe it was how the wind carressed your bare figure, you didn’t know which one it was that put you in this situation. You normally had a lot of self control, why were you fallinng apart? The warmth from within you slowly crawling out of your skin in forms of tiny little droplets of precipitation, your breathing came in small gasps, neck craning as you followed the man claiming to be the devil himself. “You want this to be over, just so you could go home... Normally, that would mean I’d finish my business with you, blah, blah, blah... But I’ll need something a little more straightforward. Something I could take as a green flag.” his pearly white teeth appeared right in front of you, smiling in a mocking way. “I’ve got all eternity y/n.” he crossed his legs as he sat down the chair. Opening a bottle of wine, and pouring himself a generous glass.

Thunder rumbled from the outside, and once again the floor shook. Jimin was amused with the way you moved in the bed. Your eyes calculating possible escape routes, as they glossed over the entire room. The sound of the chains echoed in the empty room, repeatedly yanking on them in a small attempt to at least get them off of you. Letting out a huff the moment you realised that this was getting you nowhere. Your little hole was twitching from the cold air that surrounded the entire area, reaching your nipples making them hard once again. Hearing him drink the glass of wine he poured himself had driven you over the edge, somehow, it managed to reflect something so carnal.

You whined in frustration, it was obvious enough that at least one of your worries needed to be eased. “I’ll need words, I’d never hear the end of it if you don’t consent.” Raising your brows up in curiosity, the devil took a step, rising above you with the wine glass directly on top of you. “God might get pissed at me, circumstances like that... Honestly, if his disciples made me look so bad in their little book, I might as well play the part.” He shrugged, talking to himself as he inhaled the scent of the alcoholic beverage. His mere presence tempting you as your vulva weeped for more, shivering against the cold gust of air, in the midst of talking to you, he accidentally tipped over the glass, spilling a little bit on your stomach.

The liquid was enough to send a jolt running through your body. “Goodness me,” he muttered as he grabbed a piece of cloth from his coat pocket. Wiping it down, moving towards the direction of your cunt, wiping a little bit of the wetness off. You whimpered unintentionally, “you were messing the sheets.” he scrunched his nose towards your direction. You tried your best to close your legs, chains producing more noise, before you finally gave in. “Please, use me. I need you.” It happened quickly, Jimin’s ears were trained and hadn’t missed a best. He raised his brows, glass long forgotten, setting it aside. “A little louder please,” a tone danced with his voice, as if the excitement finally had erupted from within him. “Use me as you will, please.” It wasdegrading, but it was worth it when you felt him squeezing in two of his delicate fingers. Pushing past your walls, finally gaining the courage to breach further and dwell deeper inside of you.

You arched your back, the desperation had finally reached you. “Fuck me,” you silently whispered, his palm hitting your tiny bundle of nerves, as he continued to pound his fingers against you. “Look at your little cunt,” he was astonished, the way your tight walls enveloped his fingers, it would restrict him from spreading his fingers apart. “You must have a sinful mind, I’ve barely done anything to you, and yet, here you are.” His eyes widened as he smiled, a small ember flame growing larger, reflecting his heightened need for sexual attention. He was getting far more excited as he felt your walls grow wetter, and even tighter. He could feel your orgasm coming, the way your short gasps would erupt from your mouth, how your stomach moved in an attempt to ease the knot you feel inside of you, the way your legs shaked, with the noise of your restraints moving against the bed posts. “Faster,” and yet, you howled for more. He tore his gaze away from your dripping vulva, observing the way your face would contort.

The way your mouth was left agape, how small lines appeared from beside your eyes as you shut them tightly, how your neck tilted, exposing flesh he’s desperate to mark. And so, you came undone. The pleasure rippled from your core, reverberating throughout the expanse of your body. Your legs quivered in a desperate attempt to close your legs.

He let you ride your high, finally, pulling his fingers away. “Open wide, y/n. I’m teaching you how you must clean up after yourself.” He laughed at his own comment, happily obliging you opened up for his fingers. Sucking off remnants of your arousal, not minding the salty taste of your release, indulging. “For a human in hell, you’re quite decent. You know how to follow orders,” he pulled his fingers away with a pop, being the diligent man he was, he cleaned his fingers with the same handkerchief he used earlier. Discarding the fabric, letting it flop in the table.

“Such a pretty little figure. A shame humans had gotten their hands on you,” he bit his plump lips, walking slowly from one side to another as he watched your naked figure. Presented in a way so delicately, so small, and yet your eyes burned with a far cry from innocence. He could break you, have you begging for his dick all night long, but he too had limits. Just with how tight his pants felt, he knew at least by the next few hours he needed to be inside of you. Your lustful gaze never left his figure, the scent that erupted from your sex had been too intoxicating that even the finest wine couldn’t compete. You were far too precious to be laying down here, all prepped up just for him and no one else.

The area below you slowly sunk down, informing you that someone had occupied the empty space. The heat that emanated from his body was noticeable, but it was nothing unusual. The pads of his fingers danced around your face, holding your jaw tightly as he forced you to look up to him. You held your breath as you waited for his next move. His hand trailed downwards, finally giving your soft mounds the attention that they deserved. Perky nipples greeting him once more, flicking his finger against one of them just so he could hear your moans once again. Giving the other a harsh slap, quickly turning in a shade of red due to the sensitivity of your skin. “How should I have my way with you, y/n?” Although he addressed you, you were certain he’d been talking to himself as he experimented with your body.

Hands moving south as he drew circles on your stomach, your cunt managed to produce more wetness, making it look like an appetite underneath the single lightbulb from the room. Leaning down as he gave the area just above your pussy a small quick peck, before inhaling your scent. Closing his eyes as he tried his best to imprint the unique smell only you could make. “You’re a fucking sin, y/n. You’re the embodiment of everything unholy,” he found the area between your legs the most enticing to him. For the first time tonight, he let himself have you. He let himself fall under your temptations.

You felt butterflies, the juices you released finally had purpose. No longer discarding the liquid you brewed for him. Maybe it was the validation that he, too, wanted you, the humiliation that even the devil didn’t want to have a piece of you was beginning to eat you away. One quick flick of his tongue was enough to erase any harsh feelings. His lips wrapped around your clit as your mouth did their best to put emphasis on the two syllables that represented his name.

Just as quick as it had happened, he was pulling away. Slowly prying the buttons open to his shirt, coat long discarded in the ground as he gave you an exclusive show. The way his biceps would flex in front of you. His chest moving along with his harsh breathing. Never missing the way his shoulders would move, and how the veins would protrude as he discarded his clothing. Soon followed his belt, the latch hooking against the chain, making it pull on your leg slightly, reminding you how bare you were in front of him. Gently pulling the zipper down as his huge dick finally showed itself. Sporting a few tattoos here and there, as he threw the last of his garments somewhere across the room. You bit your lips, as you unconsciously moaned just when you take in everything presented to you. Your breathing grew far more harsh.

You took in his entire figure. His dick long enough to go past his belly button, thick enough to make his hands look very small. His tip was glistening with precum, tiny droplets that glowed, licking your lips as all you could do was fantasise about drinking him all up. You didn’t really expect that he’d be merciless with you, but when you felt his presence right above you, and his tip just below your lips. You opened your mouth greedily, moving your head forward, eager to finally have him down your throat. “Well aren’t you a good little bitch,” he muttered under his breath as he held your hair with a makeshift ponytail. Pulling onto it as he moved forward. “Open wider, darling. You and I both know I’m not gonna fit,” chuckling as he continued to instruct you.

He held your head in place as you opened your mouth as wide as you can, slowly he entered you. Your teeth barely missed his length, experimenting as you moved your tongue below his shaft, loving the way you could easily make him moan. He was sensitive. “Good grief,”

He pulled back out, your greedy lips encasing him in, just as his tip was about to leave your mouth. Your mouth was left agape as your eyes followed the direction of his tip, finally close enough just so you could kiss it, licking a stripe as you tasted his precum. Sighing out of satisfaction as you bobbed your head even further down. He was barely halfway in when you felt him hit the back of your throat. “You’re greedy aren’t you?” He pushed himself even further down, making your body jolt due to the sudden movement. “Avid little mouth sucking me just back in, you’ve barely prepared yourself and yet here you are, sucking my cock like a fucking whore, letting me hit your throat.” You tried to nod, however the obvious intrusion didn’t allow you.

Your tears welled up, as you tried your best to make him proud of you. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath as he felt your tight throat constricting around him. Quickly he was pulling away, your lips had remnants of his precum, mixed with your own saliva as you held your mouth open for him to inspect. Your eyes shed tears due to how deep he went inside of you. Lashes turning heavy as droplets of tears continued to house themselves there. You were breathing heavily. “The devil isn’t usually rewarding, but I’ll make an exception for you.” Another shift in your positions as he stood up. Proudly walking around with a body sculpted by the greatest sculptors, his back muscles to tight, his sweat doing him justice making every single part of him far more contoured, emphasising every movement he made as he was finally setting himself in between your legs.

You pulled onto your chains, as you desperately wanted to hold onto him. His hair was barely covering his eyes as he watched you in amusement, his dick in hand as he positioned it against your cunt. “Let me touch you please, Jimin.” You winced at your own voice, rough and coarse as it reminded you of the previous events. You rattled the chains even louder this time, you could feel the underside of his dick grazing your cunt, making you moan as he reached forward freeing both of your hands. You were quick enough to hold onto his neck, “this doesn’t seem like I’m punishing you, I’m just drinking you in at this point, y/n.” You shut him up with a kiss, letting him taste himself. You were too distracted to even notice him positioning himself, and with one quick piston of his hips, he went balls deep inside you.

You broke the kiss apart, the devil looking at you with a smirk in his lips as he gave you no choice but to willingly accept all of his harsh thrusts. You were desperately searching your head for anything coherent to say, but you were knocked out of words. Thrusting harshly as all you could do was moan just below him, yelling his name every once in a while as you felt him hit a familiar spot deep within you, legs shaking as you did your best to keep up with his pace. He held your hips in place, as he continued to pound inside you like a savage. The occasional grunts that left his mouth would continue to echo in your head, giving you fuel to push yourself harder.

“A cunt like yours deserves to be in hell. You’re a freak, y/n.” His deep voice growled against your ear, his gruff voice bringing you back to earth. You felt your sanity drift away from you due to the deep and harsh stroked. Dick carving its’ way through far deeper, able to hit the entrance of your cervix, you were almost certain he’d be marking it as his territory too due to the repeated blows his dick gave.

“God, Jimin,” you muttered upon reaching your second orgasm for tonight. Your breath hitched, toes curling alongside the rise of your body against the soft sheets. He only pushed in deeper and harder, emphasising his presence. “We’re still calling onto him aren’t we?” He moved his hips far harsher this time, hitting your spot. Your vision turned white from the feeling of overstimulation, as if the first orgasm never really stopped, you felt yourself forming another knot from within your stomach. “You pathetic little brat, you should be calling onto me, not him. Tell me, is he the one making you feel this way?” His words were hard to understand as each one of them were emphasised by a harsh roll of his hips, balls smacking, managing to graze your clit with his own skin, as his dick carved itself inside of you. “N-no,” you tried to be obedient, but it was hard when all you felt was the way he was marking you as his territory. “Then who is, y/n? Tell me,” a dark chuckle escaped his plump lips as he bit himself, watching you from below him with hooded eyes.

“Fucking answer me!” He growled, choking you while he continuously pounded inside of you. “Y-you are, Jimin. Fuck!�� Colours danced in your eyes, closing them shut due to too much pleasure. As if he wasn’t deep enough, he pushed even further. As if asking your cervix for entrance, acceptance, manhood pounding against it’s doors as you let out a pained moan. Not once did you ever expect you’d be having a dick this big. “That’s right, you’re all mine. Aren’t you?” His hands grew a little more tighter, yelling out your response with a hoarse voice. “I’ll make sure anyone who dares to fuck you next knows,”

“Carving the shape of my dick in your velvet walls,” he was inhuman, yes he was far from being a human. The way he still continued to pound you whilst speaking without a single stutter, how he’s held out his own release even after having his dick sucked. “You like that don’t you?” Encapsulated in your own little bubble as you desperately reached for more oxygen, all you could do was nod at him. “You’re my personal fucking slave, y/n.” With each words he pushed himself deeper, grinding on your g-spot repeatedly, the pleasure was unlike what you’ve felt before. It was pure, something that only the devil could make you feel.

“And I don’t like sharing.” A kiss in your forehead was all that you got before he finally came undone. Alongside the knot you’ve been holding onto for a while, your juices mixed. You felt him pull out, followed by a trail of your mixed essence. He tilted his head in amusement, using one of his fingers to feel the creamy substance that erupted from your vulva. “You did well. I’m quite surprised, you’re a special little bitch, y/n.” Too tired to even form a coherent response you closed your eyes and looked away from him. His words began to sound more fuzzy in your head, the sound of the shower filling in the silence.

A gentle touch on your forehead woke you up, it was his lips kissing you goodbye. “I’m afraid I’ll have to go,” he pulled his slacks back up, buttoning up his shirt, concealing the tattoos and hiding his heavenly body. “To where?” Your voice would almost sound pitiful, he carded his fingers through your hair before standing up and wearing his coat. “Doing God’s work, I suppose.” He grabbed the comforter before encasing you in, your sore legs finally able to close themselves as the sound of his leather shoes hitting the wooden floors slowly dissipated. “I’ll do my best to meet you soon. Please, do enjoy your stay in Hell.”

#Bts #bts smut #bts imagine #jimin smut #park jimin smut #bts x reader #jimin #park jimin #bts imagines #bts x you #jimin imagine

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years

Text

not allowed iv, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): est. poly relationship – jungkook x reader x yoongi

summary: Your boyfriends woke up and chose violence. Excuse me, Jeon Jungkook, Min Yoongi? Do you really think you can post one after another on Twitter, send the world into heart palpitations, and not expect your girlfriend to do something about it? Hmm?!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of the pandemic; reader and Yoongi have giant heart eyes whenever they see each other; feels and fluff; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, nipple play, f and m-receiving oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, m-masturbation, double penetration/spit roasting); idol!BTS

that’s right JK posted his blue hair and i absolutely lost it part of ‘not allowed’ series, but can be read alone. basic summary: your boyfriend asked JJK to fuck you, then again, and then they decided to make this a thing; based on real time.

Your boyfriends woke up today and chose violence.

Everything was fine. You were on your lunch break, sitting in your kitchen, knowing you would have to get back to work soon. A quick meal and scrub of the dishes left you with you a few minutes to check your phone. You didn’t get many messages throughout the day and you preferred it that way. You took a moment to scroll through social media.

Only to choke a little seeing Jeon Jungkook, the Golden Maknae of BTS, reveal his dark blue locks to the world in the middle of the damn day. Did you almost drop your phone? Yes. Did you not because it was the special edition BTS S20+? Also, yes. The TinyTan SUGA phone case would have protected it anyway, but… still.

You placed your phone aside and went back to your computer, ready to attend work again.

Not quite composed, but it was just a picture, just a picture, just a picture…

Except you knew what Jungkook looked like naked and that wasn’t helping.

Three hours later, you snuck a glance at your phone only to be attacked by the cutest human being in the world, Min Yoongi, SUGA of BTS, sometimes Agust D, all the time lil meow meow because, holy shit, why the fuck was this man so cute? Those damn cheeks. Those eyes. Fuck, you loved his eye shape. And his pretty lips. Damnnit, why couldn’t you kiss him right now?

They’re trying to kill you and ARMY all at once.

You’re convinced.

You rubbed your temples and took a deep breath.

It is only a coincidence. It doesn’t involve you. They’re only being their usual adorable, attractive selves and giving a gift to the fans. You weren’t delusional. It was their job to do things like this. You knew this and you were used to it. You’ve seen Yoongi say all kinds of things in V-LIVEs and you always thought it was funny. Lately, he hadn’t been responding to them much though. As for Jungkook, well.

Everyone in the world wanted Jungkook, including you, so could you blame the world? No.

Jungkook tried to tell you before that he was shy and you recalled all those see-through shirts he’d worn on stage. All those ab reveals. Hmm, you weren’t fooled.

“I wanted to make sure you were looking at me, noona,” Jungkook had teased you, hooking his arms around your waist. “I had to get your attention somehow.”

Yeah, yeah, your attention and millions of other people.

It made you laugh, until he became your boyfriend, and now it made you choke on air like every other human being who saw him looking that good. Before you had the safety of giving your full attention to Yoongi. Yoongi had always been your priority and you wanted to make sure he felt that way.

Little by little.

Jungkook grew up.

And became harder and harder to ignore.

Even more difficult when Yoongi gave him the apartment key and told him to fuck you in his stead.

You heard your phone ping. You checked your messages, saving your work in the process.

That will teach you to post such sexy pictures.

You twitched. Excuse me? What was Jungkook talking about? Your personal, private Instagram was for expressing your – sometimes eccentric – fashion sense. Was he referring to the images you posted for Valentine’s Day, the ones with the white vinyl coat, red stockings, and sky-high red heels? Hmph. You couldn’t even see your face in those. Actually, you deliberately cut off most of your face in all of your pictures. The most you showed were your lips, always painted to match your outfit. You didn’t want anyone to recognize you, even by happenstance.

Made taking pictures much easier, since you never had to do eye makeup or worry about accidentally making ugly faces.

It was private now, but it wasn’t before, and the only reason you privated it was because you started dating Yoongi. You still wanted it use it as an outlet though, so you left it as is, with your follower count unchanging. It wasn’t that many people to begin with and you were pretty sure a lot of the accounts were bots.

In any case, sometimes you felt like being creative and dressing up, thus you did so on Instagram. You couldn’t dress like that when you went to visit Yoongi. Ah, and now Jungkook too. To be honest, you loved fashion and trying on different looks, but it wasn’t possible unless you were alone. And you were alone a lot, with no one but strangers to appreciate (or be confused by) it.

Might as well take a picture, right?

And if you could tease Yoongi a little, at least from a distance, that was even better.

You forgot Jungkook also followed you now though.

Dammit.

Had the photos been sexy? Sure. Provocative, lots of leg, almost a peek of ass but not quite. Red lips to stand out against the white. If the coat was black, it would have been more traditionally fetishist, but that's why you had picked shiny white vinyl. Brighter for the cute holiday.

Who are you kidding? You wore it to provoke Yoongi.

He texted you after you posted it. Usually, he said things along the lines of, pretty, cute, you look crazy, I like it. Only sometimes did he say...

what the fuck

You had asked him if he liked your post today.

I'm not trying to pop a boner in the middle of practice, control yourself woman.

Maybe don't post such cute selfies then, you had thought. Then your phone pinged again.

Send a picture with the coat open. Jungkook wants to see.

Oh, so now that the maknae was involved, he was going to pin things on the younger one. Two can play at this game. You sent the photo to Jungkook first. You knew that if the situation was reversed, Yoongi would have done the same. Jungkook's reaction had been hilarious.

Noona?! WHAT???

And then a slew of head exploding emojis.

Yoongi had been agitated until you finally sent him the picture too. It had been a fun incident.

Until your boyfriends woke up today and chose violence.

Dammit.

You stared at blue-haired Jungkook and 'Blue and Grey' Yoongi from the MTV Unplugged performance.

This just wasn’t allowed.

This visit had a purpose, but then you saw Min Yoongi standing in the hallway waiting for you, wearing an olive-green shirt, hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants, small smile on his lips. Purring your name lovingly after you closed the door, and you realized you missed him so very much, his lovely dark brown eyes and dark hair, and then you were suddenly in his arms and he was hugging you.

With both arms.

Yoongi was recovering well and he still couldn't do strenuous activity yet, but he was hugging you with both arms and you wanted to cry because it was so nice to have them both around you. You could've been cool and collected, yet somehow both you and Yoongi had the same idea to first hug and breathe in each other, his fresh, woodsy scent strongly invading your nose and his soft cheek against yours.

"You smell different."

"Do you like it?" you mumbled into his neck, kissing it lightly.

"Mhm."

You thought it had worn off by now, but the new perfume you had purchased lingered far longer than you imagined, clinging to your hair. Warm spiced sweetness with a hint of sharp smoke. Yoongi inhaled deeply beside you.

"You should wear more perfume," he murmured, hands kneading your waist.

"Someone might notice."

"Nah, your taste similar enough to mine."

He was taking off your coat and you were stepping out of your shoes, being pulled deeper into the apartment, and now his kisses were yours, soft and light, every one saying, I missed you, I want you, I love you. There no need for words when it was Min Yoongi. Fingers tapping down your waist, pulling your oversized black shirt up and over your head.

"Excuse me?"

You pooped your head out to see Yoongi staring at your chest, jaw dropped and eyes wide. Oh, right. You had been so occupied with hugs and kisses that you almost forgot. Your shirt fluttered to the floor, forgotten.

You smirked.

"Surprise."

Yoongi made a face at you. Somewhere between angry, aroused, and shock. Good. Serves you right for posting such a cute selfie.

The front door opened.

Both of you instantly moved, you sliding behind him and into the bedroom, Yoongi standing in front of you, masking your frame. The discarded shirt and jacket could be explained away – that's why you wore oversized men's clothes, usually in Yoongi's preferred color palette.

"Hyung?"

Oh, whew. Actually, wait. No, this was danger.

"Ah, Jungkookie."

Yoongi placed his hand on your arm and you popped your head over the corner once you heard the door close. Yup. A swift shake of dark blue locks, white sweatshirt and loose black sweatpants, and that mischievous smirk with a wrinkle of his nose.

Danger.

"Hey, noona!"

Damnnit, planning for two is hard! You couldn't just go put your shirt on and do the grand reveal again. Yoongi grasped your upper arm with his right hand and yanked you from the doorframe. You squeaked, body stumbling into Jungkook’s view.

"Did you plan this?" Yoongi asked with a cocked brow.

Jungkook's eyes went wide.

"Uh... no, but I like where this is going," Jungkook replied, smirk growing.

The black lace bra stood out against your skin, strappy and elegant, molding to the swells of your breasts and the curve downward to your waist, matching the garter belt that disappeared into the black jeans you were wearing. You didn't usually wear lingerie. It wasn't practical and if you accidentally left something behind... it wasn't worth the risk. Yoongi and you took every precaution to not fuck this up.

Therefore, you only wore lingerie on your private Instagram.

Only showing little flashes, never the whole picture. And, really, you wore it in your photos to mess with them. It made you feel nice too, so it was a win-win. This set was familiar to Yoongi and Jungkook because you had worn the red version in the original Valentine’s Day themed photos.

Again, you didn't usually wear lingerie, but Jungkook and Yoongi couldn't just post pictures on Twitter back-to-back, two-shot you, and not expect a damn reaction. That kind of shit wasn't tolerated! On top of all that, you had to wait and get properly tested before getting here. This pandemic extended your frustrations. So, yes, fuck it, you wore the damn lingerie that made you feel the sexiest. Even if your jeans were still on, you knew you looked good.

No one had to tell you. You checked in the mirror before you left.

"Is this your response to my text a couple days ago?" Jungkook teased, kicking off his shoes and bounding over to you two. His dark blue hair shimmered in the light, like a night sky covered with stars, smile pure and naughty at the same time, lighting up his whole face.

Fuck you for being hot, Jeon Jungkook!

You leaned back against Yoongi, crossing your arms under your breasts, pressing them together. Jungkook grinned, the mole underneath his lower lip winking at you.

"Something like that," you coolly replied. Shit, there was an edge to your voice. Hopefully neither Yoongi or Jungkook picked that up.

"Hmm..."

Jungkook pursed his lips, the tip of his pink tongue sticking out the side. Ack. You had to look away. You turned and bumped your lace-covered tits against Yoongi's chest. His dark brown orbs flickered to your breasts, sly smile on his lips.

"This is your fault too, by the way."

Yoongi raised his eyebrows, amused. "What do you mean?"

You dropped your hands, surveying him suspiciously. "You think I don't know? Posting right after Jungkook? That's not allowed! You know what that does to me."

Yoongi leaned forward. Your breath caught in your throat, heart beating fast all of a sudden. You backed up, right into Jungkook's chest. Uh oh. Yoongi hummed, black hair shadowing his face, devious sparkle in those dangerous eyes, his voice a raspy, purring drawl.

"What does it do to you?"

Your hand fell back to brace yourself and Jungkook's fingers wrapped around your wrist, stroking your skin. You felt him shift behind you and then his lips were on your ear, whispering in his silvery voice.

"Yeah, noona. Tell us.” His grip on your wrist tightened, squeezing lightly, asserting his presence behind you. “Or you can show us."

...

!!!

How dare they tag team you? First, they visually attack you – and millions of other ARMY – in the middle of the workday, and now this, Yoongi closing in, kissing you once more, deeper, hungrier, with dark intent, smirking against your lips as Jungkook took both your hands, ghosting his long fingers over yours. You whimpered into Yoongi's mouth, body tensing, Jungkook pressing himself into your back, breath against your hair.

"You smell different," he murmured.

You couldn't reply. Yoongi was sucking on your tongue, making you whine.

"Warm, sweet, and spicy."

Yoongi released you and you gasped for air, bucking into Jungkook's crotch. "I bought it last week... thought it smelled nice..."

Jungkook nuzzled your hair. "I like it. Makes me horny."

You laughed a little, turning your hands around in his to lace your fingers together. He held your hands firmly, grinding his crotch into your ass. You could already feel his arousal through your jeans.

"Sounds dangerous," you mused.

"It is," Yoongi chuckled. "But you should keep wearing it anyway. You smell good."

Heat rose to your cheeks. Then you realized your jeans were already undone, being daintily pushed down by deft hands and an amused expression, Yoongi crouching to pull them along. Bit by bit, revealing the matching garter belt, the high-cut black lace panties that framed your thighs, and lace-topped sheer stockings, all the straps emphasizing your softness, sinking into your thighs and ass.

"Fuck..." Yoongi breathed, running his fingertips over the delicate fabric, touch so light against your skin, dancing up your knee. "You're so fucking beautiful."

He looked up at you, eyes so dark they seemed black, playful smirk on those perfect pink lips. Thump. You felt Jungkook pull your arms back and press them to his sides. You grabbed fistfuls of Jungkook’s shirt, staring down at Yoongi advancing between your legs, his smirk growing wider and more teasing, lovely voice low and husky, deep with arousal.

"What's the matter?" Yoongi purred. "Cat got your tongue?"

Your body tensed in anticipation, Jungkook's hands crawling around your sides, one tattooed, one not, fingers hovering over your now trembling chest. Looking down at Yoongi's smug expression, tongue flicking out and teasing you. Reminding you how good he was and how long you'd been waiting.

Fuck you for being hot, Min Yoongi!

"Don't overexert yourself..." you breathed.

A sculpted brow lifted.

"I have help now," he reminded you and Jungkook's hands sank into your barely-covered breasts.

"Fuck..." Jungkook hissed into your ear, running his palms over your nipples, listening to your gasps as Yoongi dived between your thighs, hot tongue sliding against the lace. "Missed these tits so fucking much." His lips on your ear, growling your name, that dominant edge to his silvery voice, tweaking the hardened nubs while Yoongi teased your clothed clit with his tongue, the lace hardly a barrier but still an effective one, the rough threads plucking against your sensitive nerves.

How long had it been? So long, almost forever since Yoongi’s tongue was on you, soft and fast and the perfect pressure, deliberately teasing you and not moving the fabric aside, so close yet so far. If it wasn’t Yoongi, maybe you could tell him to move it, maybe you could beg, but you couldn’t speak because of Yoongi’s tongue and Jungkook’s rough touch, his hands on your breasts, pushing them together, your nipples poking tiny tents in the black lace, running his fingertips over them over and over, his hips grinding into your ass. Yoongi cupped one of your ass cheeks and spread them, your panties bunching in the center, Jungkook’s hardness slipping in, still covered by his sweatpants.

Wetter, hotter, sanity slipping little by little.

“Y-Yoongi… J-Jungkook…”

You tried not to shove your hips in Yoongi’s face, not wanting to strain his neck, and ended up pushing back instead, bouncing against Jungkook’s cock. The younger man snickered, nipping at your ear, pinching your nipples, and you felt a slick squelch as Yoongi’s tongue pushed the lace into your dripping pussy. The moans dragged out of your throat, eyelids fluttering, letting them do whatever they wanted, pleasure flooding all your senses, watching Yoongi wreck you, clutching Jungkook’s sweatshirt, panting their names, leaking more and more, the scent of your juices getting stronger and sweeter.

“This isn’t fair…” you panted. “I’m going c-crazy…”

Yoongi hummed on your clit and you cried out, hips rocking, so good, head tipping onto Jungkook’s broad shoulder, his long blue hair brushing against your cheek and eyelashes.

“Good, because you make us crazy,” Jungkook muttered, pushing your breasts together and squeezing them roughly. His voice was so deep you could feel your back vibrate with his words. His other hand came up and gripped your chin, trailing down and fitting around your neck, the loose sleeve falling and revealing his forearm tattoos, contrasting your lace-covered skin. “Always looking so fucking pretty and making me want to fuck you…”

His index finger came up and pressed against your lower lip. Those chocolatey eyes were watching your face from his peripheral vision, smirking as he witnessed your expression.

“Even showing off these sexy, fuckable lips. That’s not fair either, noona.”

“T-That’s not…”

Jungkook’s hand at your throat dropped and you yelped, his large palm fitting around your right thigh and lifting it up, fingers sinking in. Stockings, lace, garter, Jungkook’s touch, holding your leg up and out, giving Yoongi a perfect view of your glistening core. Then there was more, too much more, Yoongi pushing aside your panties, soaked fabric snapping against the inside of your thigh and then his mouth was directly on you, oh, fuck, his tongue on your throbbing clit, lips wrapped around it, pure suffocating ecstasy, your slick juices dripping down his chin, so easy, it was just too easy for Yoongi to make you feel so fucking good and he looked so sexy doing it too, those cat-like eyes piercing into you, ordering you to cum for him, to spill all over his beautiful face.

“Yoongi… fuck, your tongue is so fucking good–”

Your body rippled with pleasure and you flung your head to the side, away from Jungkook’s ear to moan far too loud, filling up the entire hallway, wanton and lewd, absolutely pornographic and sinful in nature, orgasm gushing into Yoongi’s waiting mouth, shuddering against Jungkook’s hard body. So many sensations, too many sensations. Yoongi sank his nails into your ass, growling as he sucked out your cum and drank it, Jungkook grinding his stiff length in between your ass cheeks, spreading your leg so far that your left one was quivering with strain, tits squashed in Jungkook’s left hand, his warm tongue on your ear, whispering darkly. Dirty, sensual, and your pussy couldn’t stop throbbing, Min Yoongi’s mouth and Jeon Jungkook’s low octave driving you insane.

“You look so fucking good, noona. Your body is so fucking perfect, so sexy wrapped up in lace,” he exhaled, sliding his palm over your nipples roughly, earning more depraved moans. He lowered your leg, slowly, Yoongi lapping at your clit, sending shocks of pleasure up your torso as he cleaned you off. Jungkook’s hand slid down over your stomach, flicking the straps against your skin, small snaps of pain that made you gasp, trapped in Jungkook’s power, letting him take over you. He took a step back, forcing you to arch your spine and look up at him, a curtain of cobalt surrounding that handsome face and those intense brown eyes.

No one could make you feel the way Yoongi made you feel. No one.

So...

Why did staring up at Jungkook like this do things to you? Why did it put your heart on a string and tension in your throat? Get it together. You weren't a teenager. Ask for what you want. He was just so insanely attractive in every way.

Jungkook smirked and you wanted him to ruin you.

He lifted you up easily. You saw Yoongi standing up and wiping his chin, self-satisfied and amused. He tilted his head and plucked one of the straps on your stomach, a light, erotic sting. Yoongi made eye contact with you, locking you in his gaze. A single look, and your heart was fluttering, immediately smitten. One by one, fingers wrapping around a few of the straps and pulling you to him, backing up, leading you to the bed by own your lingerie.

"Why today?" Yoongi drawled, tracing the curve of the bra cup, sending shivers over your skin. "Feeling risky?"

You raised a brow, focusing on him, trapped in those cat-like eyes.

"Control yourself. Aren't you used to this body by now?"

Yoongi grinned devilishly, darting closer, leaving you breathless in his speed. The scent of his cologne and your orgasm lingered on his skin, a delicious combination.

"Never."

Kissing you, taking your startled inhale, and you could taste yourself, fuck, just something about his skilled lips and your taste had your fingers twisting into Yoongi's shirt, rolling your body into his, still being so careful, but it was so hard because he was making it so hard, teasing you with that deft tongue, bursts of pleasure with every heartbeat you had while captured in Yoongi's lips. You missed it, this intensity, the overwhelming feeling that Yoongi gave you, being able to give in to the want, but you still couldn't give in without abandon, but you were so close.

So close.

Ruin me.

He pushed you lightly and you felt another pair of arms wrap around you, the kiss suddenly broken, but the second touch was familiar now, one tattooed arm, one not, and you knew that if you fell, these arms could catch you.

Jungkook put you in his lap, your back touching his bare chest. Oh, shit. Before you could think much about it, he turned you so you were laying in his arms princess-style. He must have removed his sweatshirt while you were talking to Yoongi, but he still wearing his pants, now sitting in the side of the bed, blue hair messy from your hands and the removal of his clothes. Your arms hooked around his neck instinctively, not wanting to fall, but he had his right hand splayed across your shoulder blades, holding you up securely.

"Mmm, this is nice," Jungkook murmured, playfully smiling. He nuzzled your nose, tongue flicking over your lips. "Why did you make us wait so long, hm?"

You frowned, breath against his chin. "The number of cases got higher... and you all were so busy... I couldn't get tested until recently."

Jungkook made a disgruntled noise.

"Hey, public health and safety is important."

He pouted at you. "But..."

"He's horny and wants to fuck," Yoongi cut in.

"Hyung…!"

Yoongi pulled up his chair and sat down, looking amused.

"He's been jacking off to your pictures."

"N-no, I haven't!"

"Really? I have."

Yoongi's face was completely neutral. It was hard to tell if he was lying or not.

Jungkook tried to hide his flushed face with your hair. "... M-Maybe I h-have..."

"Tsk, tsk, naughty Jungkookie," you teased.

"Noona..."

"And you?"

You felt Yoongi grasp your chin, tipping you back in Jungkook's arms. Some of your hair fell over your eyes, hazing your vision of Yoongi. Even so, his intent was obvious. You could feel it in his gaze, the burning hunger, his fingertips caressing your chin, leaning forward slightly to observe you.

I want to ruin you.

Yoongi didn't have to say it. You knew it, pierced by the predatory glint in his eyes. You could tell he missed this, could tell that he wanted to give in to his desires, wanted to lose control, only limited by his own physical body.

However.

He pressed his thumb into your lower lip, lifting a brow.

Jungkook was here now.

Yoongi gave you his trademark open-mouthed smirk.

"Ruin me," you whispered, staring into those cat-like dark brown eyes. The recognition was instant, pleased that you knew what he wanted. You shifted your attention to the maknae, his chocolate eyes wide, watching your tongue slide out and licking Yoongi's thumb. "Ruin me, Jungkook."

You loved the way Jungkook could turn from blushing anxiousness to sly confidence, and all it took was your words and the way you said them, enabling him in the best way possible. The dark blue hair helped accented the shift in demeanor, creating cool-toned shadows over his lightly tanned skin.

"Anything for you," Jungkook purred.

You gasped sharply as you felt two fingers slide into you, Jungkook’s thumb rubbing your overstimulated clit. Your body jerked, trying to get away, but Yoongi's hand on your chin slid down, pressing on your chest, holding you still, your name a dangerous rasp from Yoongi's lips.

"Stay still."

Your eyes flickered down. Right hand. Okay. You shouldn’t be worried anymore, but you were. It was habit.

"Yoon–ah!"

You gasped, left arm firmly behind Jungkook's shoulders and the other behind you, your hand on the bed to steady your balance as Yoongi shoved the bra cups down, exposing your breasts. He lowered his head, the contact of his lips on your hot skin paired with Jungkook's thrust of his fingers into your pussy. Instant waves of pleasure overtook you, fingers sinking into the sheets and Jungkook’s hair, fuck, his beautiful navy hair standing out against your skin and, for some reason, seeing that made you feel prettier, thrusting your chest in Yoongi’s face to get more into his mouth, spreading your legs wide to give Jungkook more access.

Only a brief moment of, I should know better, I shouldn’t be doing this, and then Yoongi’s eyes were on you, tongue flicking your red nipple.

Let go.

Was this even fair to them? Could you satisfy both? Could you and should you? But Yoongi’s eyes were telling you to let go, to chase the feeling, to give in, and hunt the desperation and the want. They wanted you. There was nothing like this and there will never be anything like this again.

“Give it to me,” Yoongi growled.

You whined sharply as you felt two more fingers push into you, but not Jungkook’s fingers, Yoongi’s fingers, his thumb joining Jungkook’s on your clit and your eyes rolled back, so wet and aroused from knowing both Jungkook’s and Yoongi’s fingers were thrusting into you, four in total, your pussy sucking them in, back arching as Yoongi sucked on your nipple. So much pleasure, rapidly ascending higher and higher, so fucking full and tight that their fingers were making sloppy smacking sounds, matching rhythm so they filled you completely together, all at once.

You couldn’t stop your hips from meeting them, fingers spreading out in Jungkook’s hair and the sheets as you came hard, gasping their names, euphoria soaring through your nerves, and still they didn’t stop even though your pussy was violently spasming, creating a messy splatter of your juices on the inside of your thighs and their hands. Instead, the pace changed, Yoongi switching sides on your chest, and then you really couldn’t think, because Jungkook was lowering his head too, and now both of your nipples were getting abused, Jungkook’s arm firmly under your upper back to hold you up, not letting you fall.

“Yoongi, Jungkook… p-please, oh fuck!”

Your other hand flew up and buried in Yoongi’s dark locks, both hands in their hair now, one blue, one black, another orgasm crashing down, moan torn from your chest. And they kept going, changing the pace again, your toes and fingers curling, every muscle tense with irresistible, consuming ecstasy that you almost felt a little numb, unable to compute anything else but your body scantily covered in lace, two mouths sucking on your nipples, four fingers stuffed into you, clit engorged and sending violent shocks throughout your system. You couldn’t even discern one orgasm from another, pussy continuously throbbing and convulsing with the continuous, chained orgasms, so wet that it was soaking the tops of your stockings, the sweet honey of your cum the predominant scent in the room.

“I… I-I can’t take a-anymore, please…”

Your legs threatened to close but Yoongi snapped his head up, snarling your name dangerously.

“One more,” he ordered. “Give us one more.”

“Your pussy feels so good,” Jungkook panted, saliva dripping down your chest. “I love it so fucking much, even when it’s around my fingers.”

You were trying to hold back, trying to control it, tensing everything, your core, your legs, your arms, and you didn’t even realize it, but you held your breath too, biting your lip and seeing Yoongi and Jungkook at the same time, both watching you, fingers punishingly squelching into your tight little hole, stretching it out unforgivingly, abused clit pulsating so hard it almost hurt, and it was exactly what you wanted, brimming, boiling pleasure that threatened you on the brink, closer, closer, closer, and the world was almost hazy with how ferociously you had constricted the coil.

“Fuck!”

You threw your head back, back abruptly arching and smacking them in the face with your tits as everything came plummeting down, resolve cracking with a wanton howl, orgasm racking through your entire frame so hard that your body lurched and flinched, Yoongi and Jungkook cradling you while you rode your high, grinding your hips into their hands and carnally moaning, liquid gushing out and dripping down your legs, your ass, down Jungkook’s sweatpants and onto the bed.

It was such an intense orgasm that you were lightheaded, hands slipping out of their hair and falling down, drained, aftershocks causing your body to shudder, even as they removed their fingers. Your clit was still throbbing, pumps of pleasure spreading through you.

It was obscene witnessing Yoongi and Jungkook cleaning their fingers off right in front of you, pink tongues sliding between the digits, licking off your viscous cum, giving you a perverse sense of satisfaction when Yoongi moaned softly and Jungkook groaned lowly, savoring your taste like a fine wine. Yoongi spied your exhausted, smug expression.

“Do you think you’re done?”

You gave him a weak smirk. “I better not be.”

“Sit in Jungkook’s lap,” Yoongi said calmly. “Face me.”

You tilted your head curiously but did as you were told, shifting your still quivering legs so your thighs were on the outside of Jungkook’s thighs, the balance a little difficult, but Yoongi took your hands and placed them around his hips. You held onto him as he lifted his shirt, pulling it over his head.

“Jungkook, rip her panties off.”

Wait, what did Min Yoongi just s–?

Two strong hands dug out the lace trapped in your ass and fastened around the thin fabric.

Riiiiiiip!

“Yoongi!”

The shirt fluffed his black hair as he removed it, dropping it onto his chair. You glared at him as Yoongi looked down at you, expression blank, dark brown orbs full of mischief.

“You knew it was going to happen. If he wasn’t going to rip it, I was.” Yoongi placed his right hand on his left shoulder. His tone dropped, mockingly rueful. “You wouldn’t want me to hurt myself, right?”

Yeah, this was why you didn’t wear lingerie.

But, also, this was why you wore it today.

You felt Jungkook tugging off the now useless pair of panties, plucking them out from under your garter belt. Oh well. You liked the red more anyway. That’s why you had bought two sets, after all.

“Remind me to take all the bits before I go,” you grumbled.

“Sure, noona.” Jungkook dangled the said lacy bits next to your head. You narrowed your eyes and mouth into slits even though he couldn’t see. “I’ll put them in my pocket.” You felt him shove them into his sweatpants.

Were you… going to remember?

Yoongi beckoned you. You shot him a warning look, still annoyed, but Yoongi pointed down to your hands on his hips.

“Isn’t there something you want?” Yoongi mused in that raspy, dark tone, the one that made your irritation fade instantly and replace it with arousal. “Take it.”

He cocked his head, shading his dark eyes with his hair, pink lips parting, the slightest hint of a smirk. Challenging you. Go on. Show me how much you want me. Your body still buzzed with the aftermath of moments before and yet you still lowered your head, sliding your hips back, sucking in a breath as your puffy pussy lips touched Jungkook’s toned chest, smearing yourself on his skin.

“Ooh, I like this,” Jungkook murmured, leaning back a little to give you space. You rocked your hips into his torso, his muscles flexing under you opening, inflamed clit brushing against his hardness. You pushed Yoongi’s pants and underwear down, dipping your head, hearing Yoongi breathe your name lustfully.

“That’s a pretty picture.”

He was only semi-hard, but he was getting harder and harder, watching you grind against Jungkook’s pecs. You knew exactly how to get him the hardest, dipping down and latching your mouth around one of his balls.

“Fuck, yes,” Yoongi gasped, his hand coming up and fitting behind your head. You sucked it into your mouth and then extended your tongue, bouncing the other with your wet muscle while sucking the first one. The first time you did this, Yoongi was literally speechless, sputtering and confused at how you could stimulate both at once and in two different ways, sucking with your lips as your tongue flicked against the other, slurping slightly to add vibration over the sensitive skin. You felt his cock swell, smacking your cheek, fully hard at the combined sensations.

“I still don’t know how you do that,” Yoongi gritted out, keeping your hair away from your face.

“Do what?” Jungkook asked behind you, one hand on your ass and squeezing it.

“She can suck one of your balls and lick the other at the same time.”

“What?!”

You yelped at the sharp sting of Jungkook’s slap to your ass.

“How come you never did that for me?” Jungkook complained, whining a little.

You tried to lift your head, but Yoongi’s hand refused to move. You make a muffled noise of distaste, but Yoongi answered for you as you switched sides.

“Have you asked?” Yoongi replied calmly, sighing in satisfaction.

“How am I supposed to know she has porn star skills?”

“Is this a discussion for right now?” you mumbled into Yoongi’s balls.

“No, because you’re supposed to be swallowing.”

“Wha–”

The second your mouth opened, Yoongi nudged his cock between your lips and you wrapped them around it, moaning as his stiff length slid down your throat, so satisfying, his taste on your tongue, so delicious that you didn’t even want to complain, you only wanted to bob your head up and down, hands on his hips. Yoongi chuckled above you, guiding your head with his right hand, left loosely by his side. You slid your lower body up and down Jungkook’s chest, your increased slickness adding more stimulation.

“Fuck, that’s so damn hot,” you heard Jungkook groan. There was a rustle of fabric and then skin on skin, his muscular arm brushing against your stocking clad thigh with every stroke.

If only you could take a picture and could see how sexy you were, blowing Yoongi with his hand behind your head, tucking the head of his cock into your throat a little deeper every time you descended, your pussy sliding up and down Jungkook’s chest, and Jungkook furiously jacking himself off while watching you suck his hyung off, feeling your slippery clit throb against his skin.

Good thing the door was locked, because of any other member walked in on this, it might have become a damn foursome.

“Close,” Yoongi panted, fingers digging into your scalp. “You want it like this?”

You hummed approvingly in your chest, increasing your pace and fucking Jungkook’s torso harder, nearing your end too, Jungkook moaning louder and pumping himself harder. So many indecent sounds, skin on skin, mouth on skin, hand on skin, moaning, crying out around Yoongi’s cock, his saliva-covered balls smacking you in the chin, you ass slapping down on Jungkook’s chest.

Hot, wet, positively sinful.

The chain reaction started with Jungkook. He came suddenly, choking on your name, shooting up your chest, warm stickiness splattering onto your skin and you squeezed your eyes shut, moaning as you came all over his chest, slippery and sweet, drenching his skin, throat muscles tightening, Yoongi whimpering your name, a rare moment of lost control as he thrust his hips into your lips, coating your throat with thick hot strings, forcing you to swallow fast, the pressure satisfying and overwhelming, gulping it all down eagerly.

You did ask to be ruined.

Just… a little more.

Your eyes were still closed, lazily licking Yoongi’s twitching length. He was panting above you, gently stroking your hair, words so soft that they were almost inaudible.

“I love you…”

You went all the way down and Yoongi groaned, your tongue flicking the top of his balls, rapid, swift laps that made his cock swell again, bending against the roof of your mouth. Yoongi chuckled, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“Still want more?”

You backed up, panting hard, Jungkook’s cum clinging to your chest and lingerie, hair a mess from Yoongi’s hand.

“Want your cock in my pussy,” you demanded hoarsely. “Want you to fuck me, Yoongi.”

He pretended to think about it. “Hmm, I don’t know…”

You got off Jungkook’s lap, snaking around the younger man’s body, crawling onto the bed, eyes on Yoongi, his intense gaze following you, enticed by your movement. On all fours, hips in the air, dropping your chest down a little, the curve of your back accentuating the roundness of your bare ass. Still in your garter belt and stockings, your bra half-off, the lowered cups pushing your breasts together invitingly. Jungkook turned his head, pink lips parting as your fingers fanned out over the sheets, one eyebrow arching gracefully.

“Jungkook in front. Yoongi behind.”

“Do… Do you want a towel or something, noona?” Jungkook asked, blinking rapidly at your assertiveness.

“I want to get fucked and I want to get fucked now, so get over here.”

“Bed’s going to be a mess,” Yoongi remarked, moving quickly, shedding his pants and going for the nightstand, taking out a condom.

“We can sleep in Jungkook’s room,” was your dry reply, yanking Jungkook’s hips towards you after he removed his sweatpants.

“Wha– ack!”

You spread his legs out in front of you, eyes roaming over his naked body, admiring it all, his legs, his abs, his pecs, covered in your drying juices, his adorable surprised face, navy curls around his chiseled cheeks, chocolate eyes round and awed at your prowess. Your hands were on his knees, breasts hanging down, breathing hard, adrenaline humming in your veins.

“You are so fucking pretty it’s unreal,” Jungkook breathed.

You grinned.

“I can’t wait for you to fuck my face.”

Jungkook grinned back at you.

You dove down, tits bouncing before becoming squashed against the bed, Jungkook’s drying cum flaking off as you wrapped your lips around one of his balls, moaning as you felt Yoongi’s hands firmly grip your hips.

“You have to help me a little,” Yoongi murmured.

“I will, hyung.”

“I mean her too,” the older man chuckled, smacking your ass playfully. Your tongue flitted out, slurping at Jungkook’s other ball from the side of your mouth as you sucked the first one, wiggling your ass at Yoongi to indicate that you heard him. Jungkook yelped, hands slamming down onto the pillows and clutching them, moaning out your name.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, holy shit…” His head hit the headboard lightly, speaking to the ceiling and maybe even the higher power himself. “H-How...? Why does it feel s-so good…?”

You felt Yoongi slide in, so easy because of all those back-to-back orgasms, and yet he still hissed at your tightness, muscles holding him firmly. You could cry with how good it felt, Yoongi finally fully inside you once again, filling you up just the way you liked, knowing how to hit your deepest spot right away, skillful and wonderful. You licked up Jungkook’s now hard length, moaning deeply as you slapped your hips back into Yoongi’s crotch. Yoongi moaned to match yours, enraptured by the feeling.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he hissed, nails digging into your ass. “Missed you so fucking much, my love.”

“I’ll do the moving, love,” you gasped back, squeezing Yoongi’s cock inside you. You reached for Jungkook’s right hand and grabbed it, planting it on your head. “Fuck my face, Jungkook. Please. Don’t hold back until you cum.”

Jungkook bit his lip, exhaling your name. “I think I love you.”

“And I definitely love you, so please give it to me.”

You closed your lips around him and sank down, looking up at him and his sweaty dark blue hair, his blown-out pupils, his outstretched tattooed arm, so fucking hot, fuck yes you loved him, him and his body and his work ethic and his sweetness and his firmness as he obeyed your command, thrusting into your mouth from below, filling your throat with the thick head.

Perfect.

You rocked your hips back to Jungkook’s rhythm, matching him, slow at first, but gradually faster, rougher, planting your hands on the bed for balance, completely focused on clenching your core and your mouth to fit the two cocks, giving them the maximum amount of pleasure that you could offer, suffocating them with tightness. It if was obscene before, it was ten times obscener now, Yoongi’s hand on your hip, barely having to move as you smacked your ass into him, Jungkook lurching you forward with his force, clenching his jaw as he chased his release, the bed screaming for help and none of you listening.

“You’re so fucking sexy, fuck, you always make me feel so good, can’t help but want you, need you, miss you so fucking much,” Jungkook gritted out, fingers curling in your hair, desperately and viscerally whimpering out your name as you tipped your head to change the angle, the sensitive head dragging against the roof of your mouth as he buried himself in your throat. “You’re so good to me, such a soft and tight mouth, fuck.”

You arched your back a little more, Yoongi hitting you deeper, hearing him suck in a tight breath at your movement.

“Tighter,” Yoongi growled. “I’m close, come on, give it to me.”

And then he smacked your ass with his open palm, making you moan around Jungkook’s thick cock, pussy clenching around Yoongi’s entire length, and then again, smack! Control slipping with every hit, falling into Jungkook’s pace, the sheer force of his hips pushing you down on Yoongi’s cock over and over, now only focused on hollowing out your cheeks and gripping Yoongi’s cock, the sudden twitching indicating that Yoongi was close, so close, holding out a little so he could watch you longer, torturing you just the way you liked, but he couldn’t hold out for long because you didn’t let him, walls pulsating around him brutally as you came, stuffed so full that you couldn’t think. Yoongi groaned your name, gripping your ass with both hands and digging his nails in your softness, cock jolting as he came in thick pumps, filling up the condom and swelling it against your walls.

It took Jungkook a little longer, but not that much longer, your mouth still locked tight and he hissed out your name, whimpering as he came down your throat, filling it with cum once again, so fast that you had to swallow hastily to breathe, and yet there was more, thick salty dribbles that made you moan, so delicious that you leaned into it, sucking Jungkook dry.

“A-ah, n-noona…”

Your body ached, flinching from oversensitivity, your mind swimming with pleasure. Had it ever felt this good before? You slid off Jungkook’s cock, falling against his thigh and using it like a pillow, chest heaving, sticky all over, lips overused, pussy throbbing, barely realizing that Yoongi had pulled out, far too spent to see straight.

“Fuck, I love you two…”

Yoongi’s face suddenly appeared, smug expression above you. He had crawled over your body, ruffled black hair hanging down, dark cat eyes gleaming.

“Romantic.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Mmm.”

He leaned down and kissed you, smiling against your lips, mouthing his love to you, forming each word against your skin slowly so you knew. You smiled back, showering him with light pecks, mouthing the words back to him. Yoongi purred and lifted himself up, taking you with him.

“I can’t move,” you complained, using your arms to push yourself up to avoid straining Yoongi’s shoulders. He chuckled, not the least bit fooled by your whines. He pushed you into Jungkook’s hard chest, covered in sweat and cum, and sandwiched you between them, your face right beside Jungkook’s, cheek to cheek. You could feel the heat in his face, his hair sticking to it.

“Noona?”

“Hm?”

Everything was far too messy for this cuddle session, but that could wait.

“Is it okay if I love you?” Jungkook mumbled, burying his nose in your hair.

“Mhm,” Yoongi responded, sounding sleepy.

You brushed Jungkook’s hair away from his face. “I would very much like that.”

“Everything is dirty,” Yoongi grumbled.

“You are a main contributor,” you said cheerfully.

Yoongi grunted, leaning against you, squashing you a little harder against Jungkook. Nothing to complain about. You were enjoying every second of this.

“Jungkookie?”

“Hm, noona?”

You reached up and ran a hand through his dark cerulean hair. Jungkook hummed appreciatively, closing his eyes at your touch.

“You know this shade is Cookie Monster blue, right?”

“… Hah?”

“Does that make you Ggukkie Monster?”

Yoongi burst out laughing, raspy and full, a rare moment of Min Yoongi absolutely losing his shit.

part v "Sorry, Jungkook, you're not allowed this time."

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoonkook x reader #yoonkook smut #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi smut #min yoongi x you #suga x you #suga x reader

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thelastdrop · 4 years

Text

Surprise

Momoland Nancy & Momoland Ahin x Male Reader

6586 words

Categories: smut, threesome, shower sex

Read on AFF

Editors: @worldsover and @nsfwflint

A warm summer’s air passes into the open window of your company car. Why the company would ever give you an Audi as your company car is still beyond your knowledge, but there is no way you were going to complain about getting a free ride. You would have taken anything they gave you, so the black leather seats, touch screen interface, hands-free calling, and all the other bells and whistles were novel amenities that took some getting used to.

On your right you see the sign for your apartment complex’s parking. You take the turn over the sidewalk and begin to descend toward the garage. An automatic gate is lifted as a sensor picks up on your car's barcode from a sticker on your front windshield. Living in a complex that has a nice garage like this was one of the main things you were looking for when you and your girlfriend were picking out a place to live.

You and Nancy have been having a great time together recently. Your relationship had taken the next step when you both decided to move in together about a month ago. Living together not only gave you both the opportunity to see each other more, but it also gave you something to look forward to after you would come home from work. Nancy is always there to greet you with a warm smile and a hug as you walk in the door.

You park your car in your ‘assigned’ spot. Not that they were really assigned but most residents would park their cars in the same place every day so they could take a short walk to the elevators. Stepping into the elevator, you press your floor number and it lights up causing the metal doors to close in front of you. A sigh of relief is exhaled from your lungs. Finally you made it to the weekend and won’t have to worry about work for the next two days.

With a soft bing bong the metal doors open again. Exiting out onto the intricately designed carpeted floor, you make your way down the well kept corridor towards your apartment. Picking out your apartment from everyone else's is made easier by Nancy’s love of home decor. A different wreath always hangs on your door depending on the season, and this one happens to be a vibrant green leaf wreath with yellow Daylilies interwoven throughout.

“Welcome home oppa!” Nancy announces as you walk in the door. “How was your day today? I hope it wasn’t too hard.” She approaches you and gives you a kiss on the cheek while you take your coat off and hang it on a coat rack near the entrance.

Nancy’s love of decor doesn’t stop at the door. She’d fallen in love with a contemporary style of decorating after seeing it in one of her friend’s places. On the cream walls are splashes of color found in different objects, your favorite being a Marilyn Monroe painting you’d picked out after seeing a street artist selling it. The background of the painting looked as if the artist took red, yellow and orange paint and threw them on the canvas. After letting it dry, they came back and painted a very minimalistic face of Marilyn Monroe using only black to outline and white to fill.

“No it wasn’t too bad. I actually got praise from my boss on my work with the Kosak account.”

“That’s great! Well I do have a bit of an ask from you…” she trails off. Her eyes narrow, gauging your reaction from your face.

Nancy has a problem with always wanting to help her friends out. No matter what the issue is she will, without fail, say yes to whatever they need her help with. It’s caused her to miss dates before, show up late for work, it’s even made her forget to pick you up from the airport. So you already know that this is going to be a major ask since she never runs these things by you.

You let out a deep sigh. “I hope it isn’t something that’s going to mess with my birthday,” you sternly reply since it is 5 days away.

“Oh no oppa, I would never forget something like that,” she says as she takes your right arm between her boobs, knowing how much you like them. “I just wondered... if it would be okay... for Ahin to stay with us for the next week while she looks for a new place?” Nancy asks with her voice getting higher by the end of her question.

“You want what?” you say with mild annoyance, “Nancy we barely just moved in together and now you want to throw someone else into the mix? She could ruin the good thing we have going here.” You pull your arm out from between her boobs and turn to walk into the living room.

Nancy scurries in front of your path and buries her face in your chest. “But please oppa? I promise it’ll be like she isn’t even here,” Nancy says with big puppy dog eyes focused on you.

Her ultimate move. You have never been able to tell Nancy no whenever she looks up at you with her dark brown eyes and puckers her lip. The other thing this look did was always give you a great view down her shirt, which you're pretty sure is why she wore her thin strapped tank top today.

“A-Alright she can stay over. But only for a week,” you cave as your face warms up causing you to turn your head away.

“Yay! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you oppa! You're the best boyfriend ever!” she says as she jumps in front of you, her tits bouncing up and down.

In the middle of her celebration, a gentle knock raps on the door.

“Oh that must be her,” Nancy says, skipping over to the door.

“Wait... you already asked her? What if I said no?”

“I know you weren’t gonna say no,” she says in a sultry tone giving you a wink.

You smack yourself in the head on missing an opportunity to have Nancy begging for something. How far would she have gone to have her way?

Fortunately, it wasn’t one of Nancy’s other friends. Yeonwoo and Hyebin were two bombshells that you’ve always been attracted to. Obviously not as much as Nancy, but having one of them around could have led to some… interesting situations.

The last time you saw Ahin she had a short bobbed haircut with bangs. She never really struck you as an overly sexy type of girl, but rather as someone who you could bring home to mom and dad. She had a very homely kind of aura about her calming your worries about having one of Nancy’s friends stay over with you.

“Ahhhh! I’m so glad you’re here,” Nancy says through the slit of the ajar door only big enough for her to fit through. She reaches both arms through and gives the person on the other side a hug. The door knocks open as they jump and hug each other, revealing a bouncing head of blonde hair on the other side of the hug.

As they break the hug, you get a good look at the other girl and you're left speechless. If this was Ahin, she’d almost completely re-invented her image. What was once a short brown bob with bangs is now long flowing blonde hair that’s parted in the middle. It frames her face so much better than her old haircut did, making you focus on things like her piercing hazel eyes and her plump red lips more than you would have.

You knew Ahin had a pretty good figure, especially when she would wear tight shirts that showed off her large bust, but this just blew you out of the water. A thin strapped darker pink dress with roses and irises hugs her in all the right places, showing off her massive tits and giving you plenty of cleavage to gawk at. It also clings tightly to her stomach and ass, not leaving a lot to the imagination.

When your eyes finally start to work their way back up Ahin’s body, she stares right at you. She gives you a subtle wink as Nancy snaps you out of the trance.

“Come on oppa, greet our guest,” Nancy says, pulling you in closer to the two of them.

“Oh, yeah. Um hey Ahin... you look, like, really good.” you say as you stumble your way through the conversation, “When did all of this change happen?”

“Oh this?” Ahin says as she does a little twirl, “Nancy didn’t say anything to you about it? Ah, what kind of friend are you that you don’t brag to your boyfriend about me?”

“I was planning on telling him, but something must have happened and it slipped my mind.”

Ahin extends both of her arms. “Well don’t be shy now. Nothing’s changed, I'm still the same old Ahin as before, so can I have a hug oppa?” she says with a little head tilt.

You quickly glance at your girlfriend for reassurance, but she just gives you a ‘why are you looking at me’ look. When you step forward and embrace Ahin, she pulls you deeper into the hug pressing her boobs against your chest. The feeling of her soft mounds pushing up against you covers a much larger area than Nancy’s do.

Before you break your hug, Ahin goes up on her tiptoes and whispers into your ear, “We’re going to have a lot of fun while I’m staying with you oppa~.” As she finishes her sentence, she blows lightly on your ear sending a shiver down your spine.

“Well, come with me Ahin and I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping while you’re here,” Nancy says as she grabs her hand, pulling Ahin toward the guest bedroom you’ve been using as a stay at home office.

“Oh, and oppa! Grab Ahin’s bags for her would you!” Your girlfriend calls out from the other room.

“Sure thing!” you yell back as you pick up the rolling suitcase and walk towards the room where the two women are.

—

It’s been three days since Ahin came to stay with you and Nancy, and to say Ahin was having fun messing with you would be an understatement. Everything that she wore was extremely revealing. If Ahin had a thin strapped tight tank top, she would walk in front of you while watching TV and pick something up off your coffee table. You swear you saw a silhouette of her nipple poking out from those beautiful round mounds, but you quickly averted your gaze when you heard Nancy make some noise in the other room.

As you got home today, you’re relieved that the work week was finally over. All you can think about is a nice warm shower, before getting into some comfortable clothes and watching TV with Nancy cuddled up beside you on the couch.

Opening the door to the apartment, you aren’t met with your usual warm welcome you’ve become accustomed to.

“Hey I’m back,” you call out to the dark, quiet apartment to see if you could get a response, but no luck.

After taking off your coat and hanging it up, you walk into the kitchen and flip on the lights. A note left on the marble countertop.

“Gone out to the store. Be back later with food~” - Nancy ♥

You love how in sync you and Nancy are. Even without telling her you wanted to just stay home tonight and just order something, she is already getting some food for you two to eat tonight.

Rummaging through a drawer beneath the counter, you pull out a pen and write a response to her note.

“If I’m still in the shower when you get back feel free to join me ;)”

And now a nice warm shower awaits you. You make your way through the apartment and notice that the light to the room Ahin is staying in was also off. Looks like Nancy forgot to turn off the lights in your bedroom though. It follows much of the same style the rest of your apartment does. Your bed frame is made out of black wood and the sheets and pillowcases that adorned it are eggshell white. You have no qualms about the style since Nancy really knew what she wanted when she found the place.

The buttons on your shirt easily come undone as you walk into your bathroom. You toss all your clothes into the hamper before turning on the shower. The ice cold water catches your hand so you quickly try to remove it before getting hit by the painful chill. Letting the shower warm up, you move over to your sink and take your contacts out. Click. Click. The front door. Nancy must be here.

You quickly throw the lenses into a small trash can and scamper into the shower. Luckily the water is nice and warm now so you aren’t entering a cold shower. Closing the glass door behind you, you splash some water onto the two glass walls of the shower to make it seem like you’ve been in there for a bit.

Soon enough the door to the bathroom creaks open, but you pretend not to hear it. With some shampoo in your hands, you lather your head thoroughly. You begin to pick up what sounds like different articles of clothing quietly hitting the floor. Some heavier than others signaling that Nancy is trying to be quiet and sneak up on you.

You decide to play along and have some fun with it. Keeping your back turned to her, you continue to wash yourself. A sudden rush of cold air enters the almost sauna-like shower.

Wasting no time, a pair of hands reach around and caress your chest before working their way down the front of your body. A soft hum comes from your closed mouth and they reach your hardening cock. One hand slowly begins to pump as the other one massages your balls.

Your eyes flutter closed as the hand that was gliding up and down your shaft begins to fist the head of your cock.

“Fuck that feels so good…” you let out breathily as you slowly begin to hump into her hand.

“Mmmm now I see why Nancy wanted you to move in with her so badly.” A voice different from your girlfriend says in a sensual tone.

Your eyes snap open and you spin around to see Ahin completely naked standing in the shower with you. The blonde woman stands there with lustful eyes as she scans you up and down, like an animal examining its prey.

You take a step back out of the water and retreat under the showerhead. Ahin doesn’t flinch to walk into the warm water and let it cascade over her body. Streams flow between her soft mounds then down her tight stomach, before they finally reach her thighs. Not a single drop goes down her body and hits the drain without you staring at it. It’s just water after all.

“I know Nancy wanted it to be a surprise tomorrow, but I just couldn’t wait any longer. Teasing you the last few days has been way too much fun, and I know you can’t take your eyes off me.”

“N-nancy wanted it to be a surprise tomorrow? W-what does that mean?” you stutter out while this goddess of a woman pulls her wet hair back so none of it is in her face.

“Nancy wanted to give you a really nice birthday present,” Ahin says as she steps forward out of the water and places her hands on the tiled wall behind your head, “and asked if I could help her give it to you. But I really couldn’t help myself after seeing your little note.”

Ahin reaches down and wraps her hands around your cock. Her hands corkscrew in opposite directions as they glide up and down the length of your rock hard shaft. Your head lurches back against the tiled wall, closing your eyes from the pleasure of her soft hands..

Wasting no time,Ahin latches onto your exposed neck and begins kissing upwards along your jawline. “So if you’re willing… to keep a secret… till tomorrow… you and I… can have a little fun… before Nancy gets back…” Ahin says in between each of her kisses.

In a flash Ahin is on her knees in front of you. She releases your cock and takes her boobs before she sandwiches your cock between them. Nancy has done this for you many times before, but there was something different about the way Ahin felt. Maybe the pressure, the movement, it may just be doing it in the shower that made the difference. Whatever the reason, it feels immaculate.

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss out.

“You like that oppa? You’ve been staring at them all week so I thought you’d enjoy this.”

Unable to fully respond, your groans are enough to let her know you want her to continue. Regaining enough composure, you look down at Ahin. She stares right at you, studying the slightest movements in your body while taking mental notes of what you seem to be fond of. A big grin appears on her face right before she quickens her pace causing your face to contort in pleasure.

With all of your blood rushing out of your head and the heat that is sitting inside of the shower, you lose all inhibition against the bombshell throwing herself at you. You reach down and grab Ahin’s wrists, bringing her back onto her feet. You pull them above your head to spin her around, then you pull them back down, locking them behind her back. Her ragged breath fogs up the glass while her tits press up against the cold glass shower wall.

"That’s it oppa. Fuck me like I know you want to," Ahin says in a lurid tone as she sticks her ass out to sandwich your cock in between her plump ass and your stomach. You let go of her wrists and bring your hands around to cup her breasts.

She lets out a pained whine when you squeeze her soft tits.

“If we do this, we have to tell Nancy as soon as she gets back,” you grunt out as Ahin grinds her ass up against you.

“I have a better idea.” Ahin smirks as she pulls away from you and reaches out of the shower door and grabs her phone. She opens up her camera then grabs your hand and puts it on her supple breast.

“Well come on! Get in frame,” she says looking back at you. Maybe you shouldn’t send something like this to your girlfriend. “Trust me Nancy will love this.”

Still unsure about how this might play out you can tell that Ahin won’t let this go. You reposition yourself so you can see your face in the picture. Ahin poses seductively with one hand wrapped around your dick and another hand stroking the opposite tit to the one you’re grabbing. Giving a smirk and wink to the camera she snaps the picture.

Ahin takes her hand off your dick and begins to fiddle with her phone. A few seconds later she reaches back out of the shower door and places it on the sink counter. “There that should get her home faster,” she says as she turns back to you.

Without hesitation, Ahin throws her arms around your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. At this point you’ve given up on resisting her advances and wrap your arms around her waist to pull her deeper into your lip’s embrace. The faint taste of cherries passes across your tongue as you work her lips open and invade her mouth. Ahin moans as your hands find purchase on her plump ass to pull her up on her tiptoes.

“God, I need you to stick this in me right fucking now.” She moans as turns around and places her hands on the glass wall.

“No. I want to do it over here.” You pull her through the water so you're both under its warm current. Ahin lets out a little yelp but it turns into a giggle as she realizes what you are doing. She then places her hands along the tiled wall and arches her back so her ass sticks out for you.

“Now fill me up oppa,” she says, looking back over her shoulder.

You line up with her folds as the water rushes down her back and over her ass. Wanting to tease her a bit, you slowly push the head of your cock into her, causing a long moan to escape her mouth. Inch by inch, you sink into her warm velvety cavern as Ahin tries to push back against you to speed up the process. However, you hold her hips in place and continue until you hilt inside her. Ahin lets out a satisfied moan when your thick cock fills her. You hold her there a moment, enjoying the feeling of her walls stretching around your length.

Pulling your hips back till your head is the only part that remains inside her, you snap your hips forward. Your pelvis and her ass clap loudly at your force, splashing water as you relentlessly thrust. A yelp escapes Ahin’s lips, invigorating you even more. You build a steady rhythm as you continue to make Ahin moan. Her warm walls feel tighter than Nancy’s, clinging to your cock in an almost desperate manner.

You lean over Ahin’s back and kiss the back of her neck as you continue to thrust into her. Her big beautiful breasts swing back and forth putting you in a trance. You swear you could hear them calling out to you, begging you to grab them and fill your hands with her smooth tits.

As you grasp each one in your hands you begin to knead them, making Ahin sigh in bliss. Wanting to earn even more a reaction out of her, you pinch her stiff nipples with your index and thumb and pull on them lightly. Your reward is given quickly when Ahin’s legs quiver at the pleasure mounting from your fingers and your pistoning shaft. She takes one hand off the wall and circles, clit with it.

“Oh SHIT! Just like that… don’t stop… please don’t stop,” Ahin chants as she is pushed closer and closer to the edge.

Not needing to be told twice, you double your efforts and place one hand on her shoulder and return the other to her hip giving yourself better leverage. Long and hard strokes into her tight cavern aim for the same sensitive spot every time. Each thrust causes Ahin’s body to lunge forward slightly, moving her up onto her tiptoes.

Suddenly, Ahin lets out a loud moan as her walls begin to clamp down around your cock. You feel your balls begin to tighten while the muscles in your groin begin to burn. Her orgasm doesn’t stop you from thrusting with all your might and your own climax soon follows. You pull out of Ahin and stroke yourself as you aim your dick at her back. Long streaks of white arc across her back and ass when you are sent over the edge.

Breathing heavily, Ahin turns around and leans against the wall as you place a hand beside her head to steady yourself as you try to gain some composure back.

“Holy shit Ahin. That felt amazing.” you pant. Her hazel eyes pierce yours, your vision returning from a blur.

Ahin smirks and begins to move in for a kiss but stops just short of your lips, tilting her head to look over your shoulder with a sly smile.

“Finally decided to join us Nancy?” Ahin says in a joking manner.

You spin around to see your girlfriend standing there with an annoyed look on her face. Her arms are crossed, lifting her chest up, as her foot taps the ground snappily. Before you can say anything Nancy cuts in.

“Really Ahin! I told you to just hold it in till tomorrow and you’d get to have all the fun you wanted with us. But noooooooo I guess you couldn’t silence that inner slut of yours for just one more night.”

You and Ahin stand there in stunned silence looking at Nancy as her eyes dart between the two of you. You look back at Ahin with a look that says “I thought you said this was okay!” This deafening quietness is broken by Nancy once again.

“Alright fine. He can just have it tonight… But you owe me a round before you get both of us,” Nancy says as she pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it to the floor and turns to walk out.

Ahin tries to hold in a giggle.

“Well come on oppa! I know you’ve got way more stamina than that!” Nancy calls out from inside your bedroom.

You're stuck in place, with the water still running down your back, baffled at what you just heard.

“See oppa~ I told you she would like the text,” Ahin whispers before giving you a quick kiss on the cheek and scooting around you to exit the shower. She grabs a dry towel off the rack and pats herself down before following Nancy into the bedroom.

Still trying to comprehend what just transpired, you still can’t move as all of your mental capacity is being diverted to understanding the situation you’re in. Your girlfriend asked her best friend to come over and stay with you until your birthday so she could surprise you with a threesome. Not only that, but she also told Ahin to tease you regularly, wanting you riled up for what was coming. Then, it hits you. There are two unbelievably attractive women waiting for you in your bedroom.

You cut the shower off and almost slip with how quickly you step out of the shower. Steadying yourself on the towel rack you grab a dry towel and run it across your body quickly before running through the doorway into your bedroom.

Both women lie on their sides and face one another, exposed fully for you on the bed. Their round plump asses stick out at you and reveal just how wet each of them are. Ahin has her hand on Nancy’s thigh caressing it up and down as the two of them look at you with eyes full of want and desire.

“Come on now. Don’t keep her waiting any longer,” Ahin giggles as you step towards your girlfriend.

As you put a knee on the bed and begin to lean over Nancy, she places a hand on your chest and looks you in the eyes.

“Uh uh. Lay down, you got to have your fun with Ahin and now I want to have my fun with you,” Nancy says pushing you back.

Something primal must've washed over her. When you lay back to let Nancy have control, she crawls over you and looks at you as something she needs to mark as her own. Watching you and Ahin for that brief moment in the shower made her desire grow further.

Her thick thighs press against your legs when she straddles you. Nancy leans, down placing her hands beside your head. You watch her hair fall along the sides of her face as she moves in closer. Her breath is brief on your face before her soft lips make contact with yours. You instinctively push your head off the bed to deepen the kiss, while your hands find their way to the small of her back pulling her into you.

Nancy quickly counters your movements in an attempt to maintain control by pushing her tongue into your mouth. The two muscles wrestle with one another, battling for dominance. Your hands slide down Nancy’s back till they reach her round, firm ass. You give it a solid squeeze once they make it there, earning a muffled moan from your girlfriend.

Sensing she is losing control, she pulls away from your kiss and gazes intently into your eyes while breathing heavily. She then sits upright on your lap and maneuvers one of her hands behind her and in between your leg grabbing your hard cock.

Still slick with Ahin’s juices, your dick slides into Nancy’s tight pussy with ease as her muscles grip it firmly. You both let out moans and groans while she sinks down onto your cock letting it fill her up. You start to move your legs up so you can plant your feet into the mattress, but you’re stopped when Nancy takes your hands off of her ass and pins them above your head.

“Oh no no, you need to be punished for starting without me. It was supposed to be a surprise for tomorrow,” she says looking back at Ahin who is intently watching the two of you but then averts her gaze when Nancy leers at her, “but since that was spoiled I want to have some fun before you get to have yours.”

All you can do is nod at her request. Nancy then moves her hands to your chest as she raises up onto her feet to squat while making sure to keep your dick inside her.

“Don’t move those hands until I say so. Got it oppa,” Nancy says in an authoritative manner.

“Yes, Nancy.”

Nancy then picks her ass up off of you before slamming it back down, spearing your dick deep into her wet walls. A long moan followed by some quick breaths escape Nancy’s lips before she begins the process again. A steady bouncing rhythm starts to form as her tits bounce up and down with her movements. Your eyes dart from the contorted face of your girlfriend to her boobs to your glistening cock appearing and disappearing into the soaked cavern it so desires to be in.

All of Nancy’s focus seems to be on her maintaining her ability to continue bouncing on your cock, so when Ahin sneaks beside you she doesn't seem to notice or care. Ahin crawls behind your head and looks down at you smiling devilishly. She hangs one of her large boobs only an inch or so away from your mouth. Her head is over your chest looking down at you, while you struggle to maintain the promise of not moving for Nancy.

“Go on oppa. As long as you don’t move your hands until Nancy says, you can do whatever you want with them.”

You look back to Nancy whose head is completely arched back. She has returned to her previous position and now straddles you with her meaty thighs and continues to bounce herself on your dick. You quickly dart your head up and capture Ahin’s large, round breast in your mouth. Ahin obviously needed some sort of stimulation because as soon as you latched onto her nipple and your tongue began making erratic movements over it, she let out a pleasurable sigh.

“Mmmm that’s a good boy,” Ahin muses as you eagerly devour her sweet tasting skin.

You can hardly contain yourself from sitting still any longer and decide to help both women out. Planting your feet into the mattress you begin to thrust upwards into Nancy with reckless abandon. If Nancy can’t get a word out then she couldn’t scold you for moving when she told you not to. Nancy’s moans rise another octave as you relentlessly pound into her. You can tell she is getting extremely close to climaxing when her walls start to throb around your dick.

Before Ahin has a chance to say anything either, you wrap your arms around her, pulling her soft globes deeper onto your face. Not expecting it, Ahin is forced prone with her boobs squished against you, almost suffocating you. You wiggle your face into her cleavage where you kiss and lick at whatever skin your mouth can reach.

“So this is what you were warning me about Nancy?” Ahin asks giggling.

Nancy is now matching the timing of your thrusts with her own as her legs tighten around your waist. Her breathing has become so rapid and shallow you're surprised she isn't passing out.

"Cumming," airlessly exhales Nancy through gritted teeth.

She spreads her legs wide as they begin quivering. You slow your pace as you let the wave of gasps wash over you while Nancy's body is gyrating out. You try to keep your mind focused on not cumming yourself.

Nancy takes a moment to collect herself before lifting up off of your cock, which slaps wetly against your stomach as it exits Nancy. Ahin quickly lunges forward and takes it into her mouth, slurping hungrily at your cock covered with Nancy’s fresh juices.

“Fuuuuuucckkk,” is all you can manage to let out as she deepthroats your cock. Your hands run through your own hair as you continue to stave off the urge to cum again so quickly. Ahin’s tongue glides over every inch of your cock, wanting to taste as much of Nancy as she can.

Breathing heavily, Nancy lays on her side beside you looking at you and your pained expression.

“You better be saving that load for me. If Ahin gets two before I get my first I may just completely drain you out tonight.”

The dirty talk Nancy adds on top of Ahin’s glorious mouth working on your cock does not make it any easier. Luckily for you, your girlfriend sees how hard you are trying to hold off and gives Ahin a firm slap on her ass.

“That’s enough you little slut. Give him a break.”

Ahin lets your dick out of her mouth with a little pop. “Aw, but hearing his moans was so much fun.”

“I think it’s time we let him have his fun with us,” Nancy says to her friend as she gets on her knees next to you, “Get off of him so he can stand up.”

Nancy jokingly pushes Ahin off of you, sending her rolling on her side snickering.

“Alright oppa, go ahead and stand up at the foot of the bed.” Nancy says as she looks down at you.

You sit up and scootch your way to the edge of the bed before standing up and turning back around to face the women. They both look lustfully at your cast-iron cock standing proud covered in a mixture of Ahin’s saliva and Nancy’s juices while dripping with pre-cum. Without saying a word to one another, you watch as the two gorgeous women position themselves for you.

Ahin lays on her back with her feet over the edge of the bed, while Nancy crawls on top of her, straddling her waist and sticking her plump ass out at you. Nancy shakes her ass inviting you to join them. You approach the two of them and drop to one knee before affixing your face into Ahin’s wet folds and sticking your tongue out. Ahin lets a breathy moan out as you run your tongue upwards through her folds and then in one motion do the same to Nancy’s coaxing a similar moan from her.

The two distinct tastes linger on your tongue as you raise back up and position your cock at Ahin’s pussy lips. With one thrust you hilt into Ahin making the girl’s head snap back against the bed when you hit her g-spot directly. A guttural moan rips out of her vocal cords as you begin to hammer away at her soaking pussy.

“Looks like he chose me first,” Ahin says between heavy breaths and moans, taunting Nancy.

“He just wants to make sure he finishes in me,” Nancy quickly snaps back.

Being so close already, you can’t stay inside of Ahin’s tight walls for very long. As you continue to thrust into Ahin you lean over Nancy’s back and whisper into her ear.

“The faster you make her cum, the faster I get to cum in you.”

Nancy gets a sly smirk on her face before sliding her hand down Ahin’s tight stomach. As soon as she reaches her clit, Ahin looks at Nancy with wanton eyes when she nods her head and bites her bottom lip. You feel Nancy’s hand working on Ahin as you continue to bottom out into her with long, hard thrusts. Soon enough, Ahin’s velvet walls constrict around your cock as you struggle to thrust in and out. You watch her legs shake as she hits another climax tonight, this one seeming to hit her harder than the one in the shower had.

Slowing your pace, you let her orgasm ride itself out before you pull out of Ahin and immediately thrust into Nancy.

“Don’t hold back baby. Fucking tear that pussy up.”

Your hips take off in a bestial lust as you fuck your girlfriend. You place both of your hands on Nancy’s ass and spread it apart as you piston in and out of her. Her moans are like music to your ears. Mixed with the sounds of Ahin’s still heavy breathing, you can hardly contain yourself any longer.

You wrap your arms around her torso, pressing into her back. She turns her head and arches her neck back just enough for you to capture her lips and push your tongue in. Looking up at this hot scene, Ahin wants to get in on the action and latches onto one of Nancy’s perfect, round orbs.

Almost as soon as you release Nancy’s lips, your girlfriend pulls Ahin off of her tit and pushes her tongue into Ahin’s mouth. Ahin happily accepts it with a smile and continues to play with her friend’s boobs.

Smirking, you unravel your arms from around Nancy and bring them to Ahin’s tits. They are jiggling slightly from the rocking your thrusts into Nancy’s tight cunt. You start by pinching her nipples and attain a second muffled moaning girl underneath you. Ahin’s face scrunches as both her and Nancy let out pleasured whines in between the breaths they take.

The slick walls of your girlfriend's pussy along with both girls’ muffled moans are enough to finally spell your end.

“I’m about to cum.” You say thrusting more erratically.

Nancy quickly pulls away from Ahin and looks back over her shoulder at you.

“Give it to me baby. Fill me up. I need it.”

It only takes a few more thrusts before you’re buried as deep in as you can, and you tremble as your cock throbs, releasing a monumental load of sperm into Nancy. You put your face close to Nancy's and let out a breathy moan as she does likewise.

You stay intertwined with increasingly soft pulses coming from your sensitive dick. Eventually you pull out, all three of you collapsing on the bed.

Ahin and Nancy take their place beside you after you crawl to the middle of the bed. You lay an arm out for each of them and they both cuddle up to you as you pull them in close.

“How was it oppa?” Nancy asks looking up at you.

“If this is what I get on the day before my birthday, I can’t wait to see what I get tomorrow.”

A/N - Hey everyone~ I’m finally back with a new piece! I hope you all have been well and enjoyed this oneshot that I started wayyyyy back in August before my account was all sorts of fucked up. I’m happy to say I’m back now and will hopefully be able to spend more time with you guys this upcoming semester. I want to give a huge shout out to @worldsover and @nsfwflint who really went ham when editing and fixed a LOT of my poor writing after being gone for so long. Like always feel free to leave any suggestions/thoughts/comments either below this post or in asks if you’d rather stay an anon. Thanks for reading and stay happy and healthy!

#momoland smut #ahin smut #nancy smut #male reader #reader insert #ahin #nancy #momoland #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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leejeongz · 3 years

Text

fluffy a-z SUNGHOON (enhypen)

requested: yes, by anon

🔅the comeback!!???!!!?! amazing. i just had to write this today i just HAD TO. this is really long but nevertheless i hope you enjoy🔅

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

he loves holding your hand even at the most random times. if you seem anxious or upset, his hand slowly creeps closer to yours, just to remind you that he’s there. he’s not a fan of pda, but holding your hand is just fine :D. (taken from my enha as boyfriends post)

he messes up your hair (but only when he knows it’s okay to do so, he knows his place lol) when you do something silly or cute. he also does it when he’s first introducing you to people too. he’ll be all like “this is y/n, my gf/bf/partner” and then ruffle your hair, just to once again show them that you’re his.

similarly, he loves when you play with his hair. he’ll purposely rest in head in your lap so that your hands naturally fall to his hair. sometimes, he accidentally drifts off to sleep like that and then wakes up a few minutes later all smiley hehe.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

you don’t have the chance to meet up a lot, most of your contact is via text since he doesn’t have the time to call you all day, every day. he’s super supportive of you, he’s your wingman, your hype man and your parent all in one. he looks out for you as much as possible and (even if you’re not younger than him) he treats you like his younger sibling.

there’s always a lot of laughter when you two are together that stems from the assortment of inside jokes that you share. you can talk for hours despite neither of you being the talkative type (mainly about other people lmao.)

as a pair, you’re often misunderstood. people never associate you with each other but you just know that you don’t always need to be with each other to still be the closest of friends. when you are together, you’re an intimidating duo that people often avoid through fear, but you’re actually really nice 🥺😔

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

he uses cuddles as a way to distract you and/or annoy you. can and will be the big spoon every time you cuddle. he loves cuddling with you, holding you or just touching you, he’s just shy okay. he loves having you in his arms and holding you, especially when he knows you’ve chosen to cuddle with him over doing something important. cuddling with him just makes him want to cuddle all day :((. so if you start cuddling at 10am, except to still be in his arms at 7pm. more so than cuddling, he likes draping his legs over you “to irritate you” (he just wants to be close to you hehe). it makes him feel like he’s protecting you without it being too hot and stuffy and oppressive.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

there’s no time frame for him when it comes to settling down. he wants to settle down but there’s no deadline for him. he’s not actively looking for the love of his life at any point, he’s never going to force himself to be in love just for the sake of creating family. he thinks about settling down a lot, he wants a pet with the person he loves for sure, he’s excited for that day to come, but it doesn’t have to happen soon.

cleaning, he’s fabulous at. the house or apartment is minimalistic anyway, so things that are out of place are easy for him to spot and move. he almost enjoys doing chores with you even, just because he’s spending time with you. when it comes to cooking,,, like sure he’s confident which is so sweet but that doesn’t always mean a good meal. but please don’t tell him that else he’ll get really sad and disappointed in himself.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

if he was to break up with you, it would probably be a “right person wrong time” kinda thing. he wouldn’t get into a relationship if he didn’t see a future with that person, he’s very picky to find the perfect person for him. you’re definitely the right person, but he’s just too busy right now being an idol. he feels guilty for not spending time with you and so he wants to let you live you life, without being tied down so early on. he’d hope that you’d wait for him, but he’d understand it if you didn’t.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

commitment is a big part of the relationship for him. he would want commitment from day one, even if he's not officially your boyfriend yet.

he doesn’t care when you get married, but he definitely wants to get married someday. he likes the idea of dedicating one whole day to celebrating your love for each other, and sharing that with friends and family too. it would quite literally be the best day of his life. he’d propose to you pretty quickly into the relationship, but at a time that felt right. you both knew it was something that you wanted, that you dreamed your relationship would last forever, so why not propose?! he doesn’t mind eating years for the wedding though, it’s a big deal and everything has to be perfect.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

emotionally, he acts quite tough. he doesn’t want to be seen as weak, but at the same time he wants to show his emotions to let you know that’s he’s mature, and that emotions aren’t a sign of weakness. he often keeps really troubling things to himself until he can tell you and you only. you’re the only person who knows him truly, you know everything about him because he’s only willing to share this stuff with you. when it comes to things in your relationship, he also isn’t afraid to speak his mind. he’s not trying to be gentle or tough with his emotions when it comes to you, everything seems like a natural reaction, he’ll cry when he wants to and he’ll be stubborn when he wants to.

physically, of course, he’s very gentle. every touch feels like feathers, every kiss, every hug, every smile, it’s all just very soft and gentle. you notice that he talks to you differently too. his tone with others appears harsher and more blunt than with you. with you, it’s like he’s talking to a baby (in a non- condescending way ofc he’s very mature and you’re not allowed to forget that)

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

when he’s congratulating you on something, when he’s proud of you for something, he hugs you. it’s better for him to communicate using hugs rather than telling you because he’s a little shy saying it, even though he means it.

he likes when you rest your head by his neck, while his arms are holding you close. he kisses where your ear is through your hair or your head while you’re hugging and (when he manages to finally say it) whispers a little “i love you”. it’s a tight hug, but it doesn’t last long. when you pull away, he reaches out to hold your hand, he doesn’t want to separate just yet.

if you initiate the hug, he laughs and grunts and lot just to tease you, but don’t be fooled he’s really happy that you are hugging him!!!

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

oh you pair beat around the bush a whole lot. it’s pretty much unspoken for the first year or so. although you never said it to each other, you both knew.

it wasn’t until sunghoon had left you for a little bit while he went on tour (not left as in broke up, just went out of the country lmao idk how to write that in a coherent sentence big sorry) that you realised that you should probably say it. he returned home and it was on that day that you told him you loved him while nestled against his chest in a satisfying hug after such a long time apart. he said it back straight away, looking down at you and waiting expectedly for your lips to meet with his.

he was always waiting for you to say it first, there were moments when he thought he should just say it, but he wanted to wait, he wanted to hear you say it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

he gets jealous quite quickly and he always makes you aware of his jealousy no matter how petty the situation may be. he wouldn’t try to hide it, or compromise with you, he wants you all to himself so if there’s even a chance that another boy could possibly be flirting with you, he’ll be mad.

that being said, he’d definitely voice his opinions in a mature and well thought through manner. he would think of how to say things to make you understand where he’s coming from without trying to guilt trip you into unfriending that person, he doesn't want to be THAT guy. he’ll just explain his side and wait to hear your response, and often times it turns into a sarcastic, inside joke which reassures him a lot. he’s just like “fine, go to the cafe with him, but he wouldn’t know which smoothie you like best, would he?!”

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

him initiating kisses? few and far between. but when he does, you know he means it. he loves all types of kisses, he just wants to cover you in kisses sometimes, but he’s gotta keep up his image of course. pecks on the lips and longer, more passionate kisses are his favourites though, he just can’t get enough of your lips. (taken from my enha as boyfriends post)

as i mentioned in the hugging part, he likes to kiss your head or place a kiss where he thinks your ear is while hugging. it sends a rush though the both of you, it just really makes you both think about how lucky you are to have each other.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

a little awkward at first. he’s not sure how to talk to them, and every time he speaks the kids are just like ”??” because he says things that are a little too mature for them.

it will take him some time to be comfortable and confident around the kids, but he wants to be liked by them and he wants them to be happy so he will not give up until that happens.

although, it does have to be said, he’d much rather have a pet than a kid 😳

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

usually, sunghoon wakes up before you. he gets up before you wake up too, and sits and stares at the wall with a blank mind, just to wake himself up a bit. once you get up, he’s gonna ask if you wanna go back to bed again and cuddle and/or watch some tv together when he has a day off. if you agree, he’d bring some toast with him for you both to eat. but if not, you’d just grab some cereal together and eat while sat around your dining table in silence because he does not want to talk first thing in the morning (valid,,, extremely valid)

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

sunghoon is a big fan of evening dates as opposed to going somewhere during the day. everywhere is quieter and this is usually his free time so you have him all to yourself, you can do whatever you want together. as much as he enjoys going to fancy restaurants, bars and what not (which usually take you into the late hours of the night), he’d still rather spend some time at home with you.

on those nights that he can spend at home with you, he likes to just rest with you. chilling on the sofa just watching some episodes of your favourite show, ordering a takeaway. you share your thoughts about the show and that’s all you really talk about while it’s on, but afterwards you talk about your day and head to bed, where you cuddle until you both fall asleep (which is pretty quickly since you stayed up late to watch more tv)

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

like anyone, he overshares when you first start dating due to nerves. you learn a lot about him through this and he’s actually pretty grateful that you do the same thing. you pretty much know everything about him before actually getting into a relationship. throughout the relationship, he’d never try to hide his feelings about certain things and would be pretty hurt if you used things that he’d told you against him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

with you, he doesn’t get that angry. you’d have to do something really vile for him to show actual aggression and disappointment. with other people, it’s not so simple. he finds a lot of things that other people do irritating but he wouldn’t show his anger there and then. he’s more likely to go home and get angry there. he’d appreciate someone to talk to about it, a shoulder to cry on perhaps. definitely an angry crier (cries when he’s angry) and likes to slam doors to make a point.

he’s not afraid of confrontation when something that someone did is actually wrong. he will stand up for what he believes in and it’s worth putting a friendship on the line given their opposing opinions.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

this bitch acts SO dumb when you ask him stuff but he knows… he knows everything. everything you’ve ever said is stored in his brain, probably written in his notes app as a back up. he’s ready to spring this knowledge on you at any point. he knows exactly what you like and what you dislike, important dates, about your childhood, he even remembers how certain things he did made you feel, so he could do them more or avoid them in the future. but of course, if you ask him, he knows nothing.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

you weren’t even together officially at this point, but when he turned up at your place on prom night. he’ll never forget how stunned he was when he saw you looking all glamorous that evening. you had some photos taken as a pair, egged on by your friends of course because you’d never normally do that, and he looks at them a lot. he can’t help but think how great you look as a couple (and how you two are going to look on wedding photos 🥺). he had a rose prepared for you, a white one because he knew it would go with your outfit, whatever colour it was and also because of its symbolism. he really wanted to confess when he handed it to you, but he over thought it a lot and the moment ended up passing too quickly. that’s his favourite memory. something that he’ll never forget.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

i know i said he got jealous a lot, but he’d distance himself when it actually came to it. he’d be jealous in his own space until you two were alone rather than being protective while the act that made him feel that way was ongoing. as i mentioned above, he does indeed want you all to himself, but he’d hate to cause unnecessary drama and have you lose friends over a silly misunderstanding.

if you were clearly very uncomfortable around someone, he’d be there with an arm wrapped around you. you’d both like to think that his presence alone is intimidating enough, but sometimes he has to resort to harsh one liners to get them to back off.

i don’t think he’d ever get into a physical fight. it’s not that you’re not worth it, but he just feels it would make the situation worse.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he really wants to put a lot of effort into your dates, but he finds it difficult because one, he has no time and two, he doesn’t want to disappoint you/organise something you end up hating. most dates are spontaneous and on a whim, but also like… planned in both of your minds. like you know you want to go and you know he wants to go, but it’s not confirmed that it will actually happen until the time of the date if that makes sense. when it comes to it, he gets really shy asking you out on dates, so you’ve kind of just started to read each other’s minds lmao.

he never forgets your birthday or your anniversary. he makes a big deal out of your anniversary because it’s a celebration of you both, he wants to make you feel special and will do everything he can to do so. you pair make your own traditions when it comes to days like that, and he looks forward to them a lot. your birthday is pretty much left down to you (other than his gift for you of course). he doesn’t want to do a poor job of planning anything for your special day so he just leaves it and hopes that you do something instead, if you wanted a party you should have organised it. he would help you plan it thought, anything you want he’d do for you.

his gifts are always things that you like. things that you can treasure and things that you can display and show off are his go to. jewellery is a common gift that you receive from him and every single piece that he’s picked out is so delicate and beautiful.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

when you pair are out with mutual friends, he likes to tease you. sometimes he takes it too far without realising it, the atmosphere becomes tense and he becomes even more awkward and wants to leave the situation just to apologise to you but realises it will probably make everything 10 times more awkward.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

he’s a handsome teenager surrounded by other pretty people of course he’s gonna have some concerns about how he looks. actually i don’t think concerns would be the right word. he’s very confident in his appearance, why wouldn’t he be, but he also thinks that everyone else should be too, everyone is attractive in their own way. in reality, he’s very humble about how handsome he is despite constantly flexing his visuals lmao.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

you do a lot for him, not just as in help him out with cooking or whatever, but his mental state. you’ve allowed him to mature a lot and he’s become more emotionally intelligent with you.

he’d hate to think of how his life would be if he wasn’t with you, he wouldn’t be the same person at all.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

one of the first dates you went on was to build a bear, it was his idea surprisingly (he wanted to see which animal/character you picked out, okay?!) you stuffed each other’s teddies and returned them to each other in time to name them. you named yours sunghoon first, he followed by naming his y/n. you both sleep with them on the bed and hug them tightly when you’re not together :( (but your never tell each other that’s what you do lol)

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

people who are all up in his face. just back off, yeah? chill out for a second. he gets that you’re excited, and he wouldn’t want to bring you down, but you don’t need to get up in his grill. personal space is a big one for him. if you don’t respect that, then he’s not gonna have any time for you.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

the prettiest sleeper on the planet. his lips are slightly separated and his eyelashes often flutter as if he’s about to wake up, but it’s actually just a sign of him having a really pleasant dream.

#enhypen #sunghoon #enhypen fluff #sunghoon fluff #enhypen imagines #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon imagines

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years

Text

you’re someone i just want around: IV

“I had a few, got drunk on you

And now I’m wasted

And when I sleep, I’m gonna dream of

How you tasted.”

— Medicine, Harry Styles

A/N: if i said i’m apologizing for the way i left off ch3, yes i did ❤️ no i didn’t ❤️ it was fun ❤️ as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!! and if you enjoy the piece, please reblog it!!! it keeps content creators motivated!! without further delay, hope you enjoy what’s in store for Sherlock and Watson this chapter cause it’s uhhhh quite a bit of uhhhh ~stuff~ 😌

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

word count: 26.4k

content/warnings: a mild addiction to sexting, some pretty sparkly lingerie, a very interesting photo, a strange but satisfying gift, rough sex and degradation, pillow talk about the validity of the men in Twilight, the satisfying gift being put to even more good use, Y/N going over to Harry’s apartment for the first time, mild mentions of blood, and an impromptu Hamilton re-enactment amidst more lemon blueberry pancakes

///

For the next three days, the sexting grows more frequent.

Harry feels somewhat humiliated by it, really. He’s an adult— a full-grown, two hundred and nine year old man— and trading nudes with a simple girl shouldn’t be getting him as worked up as it does. He should know how to handle his hormones better, and the thing is, he usually does. But no one in the last few centuries has made him feel as desperate as Y/N does; he hasn’t felt this helpless for someone since he was alive. The vampire just wasn’t prepared to handle the needy responses she so easily yields from his body and he’s horribly rusty on how to skate this thin sheet of metaphorical ice. It’s like he can feel it cracking and crunching beneath his feet, but he has absolutely no power over how to stop it. Any minute, it’s bound to take him under, and he has no choice but to allow himself to drown in it.

The following seventy two hours are full of so many dirty promises and explicit images, his phone might as well be a porno hard drive.

After coaxing Y/N into a few orgasms through the phone and receiving just as many in return, a dangerous game is set into motion that Harry knows is probably unhealthy not only for his self-worth, but for the sensitivity of his anatomy. He can only get off so many times before his joints are begging for a break.

He wakes up Wednesday morning with a stiff ache running along his inner thighs and ebbing across the underside of his balls, but there’s an undeniable contentment stewing behind it. He doesn’t truly mind the throb, comforted by the fact that Y/N is probably facing similar issues at the moment. He finds himself smiling coyly as he flips an omelette onto one of his marble-print platters, recalling the events from the night before.

According to what he’d heard on the other end of the phone, present throughout the array of shaky gasps, cracked whimpers, and wet sounds of pleasure that had echoed from the speaker, Harry had made Y/N squirt.

That was a tremendous stroke to his already huge ego. The idea that he’d been able to make her cum so hard that she’d soiled her brand new sheets had been circling around his head for the last couple of hours, fluffing his confidence. It’s a milestone achievement, to be honest. He’d done something that very few men have the skill to achieve in person, meanwhile he’d done it just by using his voice and extensive imagination. The arrogance he’s sporting right now is more than justified. His cheeks are starting to ache from how hard he’s grinning.

The vampire is so lost in his recollections that he nearly misses the chime of his phone, the unique ringtone that beeps out being as welcomed as ever.

Harry scoops up his device while spooning a piece of his green pepper and mushroom egg dish into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he swipes into Y/N’s text conversation. He smoothers the giddiness fluttering in his stomach; he’s not a child.

As it turns out, he’d killed those butterflies for no solid reason because the instant her message pops up, they come right back to life.

Morning! Thought I’d show you what I’m planning on wearing to work today.

Harry roughly swallows down his breakfast at the attachment following the caption, a shiver coiling down his spine. “Fucking hell.”

The photo is a mirror shot, taken in her tiny bathroom. It’s a full body image where she’s clad in a matching set of bra and panties, the material sparkly bright red lace. The bottoms are high-waisted, hugging her tummy and hips in a way he deems perfect, the lace decorating her skin beautifully. The bra is see-through, so he has an unrestrained view of her chest and he doesn’t know why, but he thinks he might love the way her breasts look in lingerie more than without it. Make no mistake, he’ll willingly drool over her no matter what, but there’s just such a refined beauty in seeing her figure in such an elegant piece. She’s like a present set out for him to unwrap, preferably with his teeth.

Then he notices the garters and the next forkful of food lodges in his throat. They hug around her legs deliciously, the bands settled midway down her thighs as the straps run up the sides and clip onto the hem of her panties. Yeah, he would definitely use his teeth.

After gawking at the artwork for a minute, Harry finally gathers himself enough to type back a decent reaction.

I’m pretty sure that outfit doesn’t apply to the workspace dress code.

Y/N shakes her head in amusement at his response, giggling softly as she finishes shimmying into her black skinny jeans, buttoning them over the skimpy lace.

I’ll cover up for the sake of the customers. But it’s just such a nice set, I figured someone else should get to appreciate it with me.

Harry sets his utensil down on top of his plate, omelet only half eaten. His appetite has molded into a very different type of hunger. He pads out of the kitchen, feeling the ten AM sunlight filter through the glass wall of his living room and warm his bare chest and back. He heads for the bathroom that branches out of the entrance corridor, coming to a stop right in front of its mirror. He begins to clean up his appearance, combing his bed head into a presentable state (he hadn’t slept, per usual, but rolling around his pillows last night while he indulged fantasies about Y/N had done his curls in something fierce), fixing his royal blue briefs along his hips and dragging the waistband down to show off the dip of his prominent pelvic bones.

Once the immortal is done, he taps back with eager strokes of his thumbs.

I can’t believe you’ve never worn that for me. That’s a criminal offense. Literally worth capital punishment.

Oh, really? Capital punishment? And who are you to decide my verdict?

I’m the executioner, obviously. I’m in charge of dispensing the verdict and I promise you, I’ll see to it that you get what you deserve. It’s my civic duty.

Y/N scoffs at his quip, tugging her navy polo shirt over her torso and quickly running a brush through her hair. She puts it up into a neat ponytail, sighing lightly as she stares at her tired reflection. She wishes she could ditch work for the day and entertain more conversation with Harry, but she literally can’t afford to.

Well, you’re gonna have to wait while I go perform my own type of civic duty. Making the world a better place, one grilled panini at a time.

Harry’s lips jolt. She’s so clever and witty, he doesn’t know how she could possibly be from such a dull, monochrome town.

I understand. Justice calls. But before you go, can I send you a picture of what I’M wearing today? Could use a few style tips.

That’s pretty ironic coming from someone whose last name is literally ‘Styles.’

I know, I know. But even fashion icons have their insecurities sometimes.

Fair point, nobody’s perfect. Lemme see your OOTD, then.

The outfit of the day appears to be no outfit at all, according to Harry’s picture. It’s taken on a mirror, like her own, and it depicts him standing with one hand holding his phone in front of his face while the other seems to be doing jazz hands down his body playfully. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of deep blue briefs (probably because he’d completely ruined the maroon pair he was wearing last night, if his broken moans and heavy panting had been any indication) and they hug his frame flawlessly. The fabric is bunched around his lean thighs, tiger head tattoo peeking out to accompany the rest of the collection, which includes all the inkings running the length of his left arm as well as the butterfly and swallows across his torso. His v-line is evident as ever, dipping below the elastic band teasingly. His chest is broad and his biceps are taut, despite the fact that he’s not even flexing. He looks like a Greek statue and Y/N is positive the higher powers designed Harry with that specific thought in mind.

Y/N doesn’t realize drool is gathering in her mouth until it tickles the inside of her bottom lip. She snaps her jaw closed, clearing her throat sheepishly. Over a minute has passed of her just ogling and she can feel heat layering across her cheeks. She knows Harry probably has the cockiest expression on his face at the moment, obvious in the tone of the next comment he delivers.

Damn, it’s that bad, huh? Guess I’ll have to change.

No, it’s perfect. Simple, but effective. Very professional.

Why, thank you!

My pleasure.

Here, take this as a token of my appreciation. Hopefully it can help get you through the day.

This specific photo is taken from an above point of view, as if Y/N were looking down at Harry’s body along with him. His pectorals and stomach muscles appear more defined, tattoos darker and skin more evidently sunkissed. Lower down, there’s the obvious outline of what lies within his boxers, snuggled up against his thick thigh and tempting her to let out a soft whine. Then, resting casually against his abdomen is his free hand, sporting a thumbs-up that gives a purposefully goofy vibe to the risky image. He’s such an idiot.

The mortal’s answer is just as silly and lighthearted as his gesture.

Thank you, I’ll keep it locked in my heart forever.

I wouldn’t want it any other way.

That’s the first interaction of many that further opens the door to their virtual sex life. Things hardly stay that innocent.

That night when Y/N gets home from work, they undergo another round of phone sex. It starts off the same: cheeky banter that leads to cheeky pictures that eventually leads to utter filth.

And that’s how they spend the next few days— taking care of each other’s needs digitally until Friday rolls around. There’s plenty of those encounters, but there’s definitely favorites.

A session during one of Harry’s self-care baths, when he puts her on speaker and she talks him through tugging one out while the scent of lavender salts— which he’d chosen because they smell like her— leave his heated skin feeling soft and supple. Another instance where he makes her orgasm while she has gotten bored watching a scary movie marathon on her couch, the screams of the horror film mere background noise compared to all the sweet nothings Harry huskily mumbles into her ear, his dominant voice filtering through her headphone and instructing her on how to make herself feel good.

Harry messages her at three A.M. at one point, wide awake as ever, all of his thoughts occupied by the concept of Y/N laying on her tummy between his thighs and sucking him off at a slow pace. He can practically see her small hands wrapped around his girth, stroking up to meet her pretty lips, her tongue lapping at his tip eagerly as she whines around a full mouth. She’s always just so eager. Even at the crack of dawn, she’s awake by some miracle, and happily willing to delve into that fantasy with him. Her soft, timid tone drifts across the shells of his ears, explicitly sketching out how she’d take him all the way down her throat until she gags, and how she’d kiss all over the head of his prick just to smear his precum over her lips to then lick it off, and how she’d rock against his lap fast and hard while he takes her nipples between his teeth. How she wouldn’t stop until he’s dripping down her thighs and groaning into her throat. How she’d let him fuck her as many times as it takes to tire himself out.

Harry obviously repays her, and it comes in the form of him painting out a scenario where she’s gotten home from a long day at the café. He tells her about how he’d be there waiting for her in nothing but his underwear, sitting back on his elbows in her bed, touching himself over his briefs just at the thought of pleasuring her. About how he’d lay her out and taste every inch of her body with his tongue, and how he’d run his teeth across her inner thighs tenderly while his fingers play with her clit, and how he’d have her ride his face deep and sloppy until she’s shaking and sensitive. How he’d tie her to the bed and toss her legs over his shoulders while he pounds her into the mattress, marking bruises across her neck as she sucks on his fingers and tightens around his cock like “the snug little thing you are.”

They even take their fun out of the confines of their houses and into public settings, just to give it an adrenaline high. Those situations are foreplay; it’s how they prep each other throughout the day for when they’re both finally alone and can truly help one another to the fullest.

It happens Thursday on two occasions.

First, to Y/N, who is sitting in the backroom on her lunch break, though she’s barely touched her food. She’s much more interested in what Harry has to say. Much more interested in how he says he wishes he could be there with her right now. That she could sneak him in through the back door of the restaurant and they could lock themselves in that tiny supply room, making sure no one would disturb what he’s about to do to her. That he would drop to his knees and drag her jeans down her legs, pressing damp kisses in the denim’s wake, biting hickies in the areas he knows she loves to receive them. He would mount her knees over his shoulders and bury his face between her thighs, looking up at her through heavy lashes as he licks into her desperately. He would have her grab onto his curls and guide his tongue just the way she likes it, and she’d have to bite into her cheek to keep from getting caught.

He talks about how he’d take her against the supply shelves, one hand clamped over her mouth while he pants praise into her ear, her body jolting roughly upwards against the surface as she clings to his back. How he’d hold her up with the other arm and slam her down onto his cock, cooing things like, “Gotta keep quiet for me, sweetheart. Can’t make you cum if we get caught.” and “Such a filthy girl, sneaking me in here just to fuck you. Baby just wants to walk around the rest of the day full of me, doesn’t she?”

That fantasy leaves her in a bothered haze the rest of the work day. It’s bad enough that she almost drops her tray three different times and has to ask multiple customers to repeat their orders.

Y/N gets back at Harry, though. That revenge is the second occasion.

The vampire had mentioned that he would be going out with his friends that evening to a bar and she takes full advantage of that. When the picture comes through, Harry nearly spits out his Manhattan drink.

He’s sitting in a booth surrounded by his entire group and he’d been talking shit with Niall about golf. The vampire doesn’t care for the sport, but Niall loves it, and Harry loves getting on Niall’s nerves, therefore it’s all pretty self-explanatory. Mitch and Adam join in, with Mitch obviously supporting Harry, when he randomly decides to check his notifications. Even in the shrunken little banner, Harry can immediately tell the photo is graphic. Xander asks if he’s alright, telling him he looks freakishly pale and to get his eyes under control because they're in public. Harry blinks the red from his irises, hurriedly excusing himself and clambering up from his seat, jetting across the restaurant towards the restrooms. It’s occupied, much to his luck, so he settles for simply pressing his back against the wall of the corridor, leaning his head against the bricks and taking deep breaths to calm the raging in his stomach. He gingerly opens the message and his knees nearly give out.

The image is taken from the back, probably using a timer. Y/N is wearing one of her big tees and another pair of cheeky lace panties, but this time around, they’re pastel peach and crotchless. She’s bent over with her ass up and spine arched, knees parted for balance, her shirt bunching downwards due to the angle. Her arms are pulled behind her back and her chest is flushed to the bed, wrists crossed submissively as she gazes at the camera over her shoulder. There’s an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes and he can tell she had sent this now on purpose just to fuck with him, knowing good and well that he was out and occupied.

The shot is more than he can handle and he has to swallow down the urge to stomp out of the bar, get into his car, race to her flat, and make her rethink her decision. Preferably, in the form of harsh spanks and overstimulation. He can see everything— the intentional rip at the crotch of the panties are meant for that sole reason. The closer he looks, he comes to realize that she’s wet, which in turn means she had been touching herself. She’d set this up perfectly, knowing that he’d easily be able to deduce that fact and that it would haunt him for the rest of the night.

The monster releases a quivering exhale, typing back slowly and carefully, sight bleary.

You’re going to regret that.

Pinky promise?

///

When Harry arrives at Y/N’s apartment the next night, as he has for the last three Fridays, he doesn’t saunter up to her door and bang on it angrily. He doesn’t grab her by her hair and drag her into her room, how he’d intended. He doesn’t even have a single cinch in his sculpted brows.

Instead, he raps softly on the door with one jeweled knuckle and waits calmly.

The human goes to answer, her stomach twisting in excitement at all the possibilities of what punishment she might face for her antics. A small, sly smile buckles the corners of her lips at the thought, her fingers trembling as they wrap around her cold doorknob. She expects to find a furrow-browed, intense-eyed, red-faced Harry behind the threshold, who would shove past her, nab her by the arm, and throw her onto her bed. She expects him to yank his belt from around his hips while a distinct darkness swallows his emerald irises, his mouth curling into a sinister grin. She expects him to roughly command she get on her hands and knees, his palm finding the back of her head to shove her face-first into the sheets while he rips her panties down her legs and drags the cool leather of his accessory over her backside tauntingly.

What she gets is something— and someone— completely the opposite.

When her door swings open, Harry is standing standing there, sure. But instead of looming over her with flaring nostrils and cruel intent, he’s decided to lean against the door frame with his arms folded casually. His body is completely empty of tension, his ankles are crossed offhandedly, and a small, bright red paper bag full of sparkly black tissue paper is hanging off his wrist. His expression is a relaxed facade of indifference, lips set into his usual signature smirk, no explosive emotions present whatsoever.

That startles Y/N. This has to be an act; it feels like the calm before a violent storm and it has her shifting in her socked feet. Did he...Did he forget what she did?

There’s no way he forgot. It was too brazen a move to dismiss.

Harry steps forward into her home, comfortable enough that he no longer has to wait for an invitation. Y/N moves to the side to let him through, hesitantly closing the entrance behind him, contemplating the man as if he were a ticking bomb. She does a quick sweep of his physique, looking for some other clue as to what he could be plotting, aside from the mysterious gift bag in his hand. He’s wearing a pair of flared denim jeans, a white tee with a royal blue cartoon bee printed in the center along with the words Enjoy health! Eat your honey! surrounding it, his white Vans, and an oversized colorful patch-work cardigan. The outfit is surprisingly domestic compared to his usual taste, but she finds it’s easily one of her favorite fits on him. He just looks so boyish adorable.

The human comes up with nothing suspicious, glancing back up to lock eyes with her guest. Harry beams at her innocently and she knows for sure he’s planning something, but she can’t place what.

“I got you this.” The vampire speaks up first, holding out the paper bag towards Y/N with his index finger, bouncing it encouragingly. “Take a peek.”

The girl accepts the gift gingerly, giving him one more hard look before breaking away to investigate what lies beneath the tissue paper. She pulls out a small cardboard box, her eyes squinting slightly as she reads its print and surveys the label. The image on the surface appears to be of five silicone finger gloves, each about the size of a thumbtack, tiny metal plates embedded into the pads. She’s voicing her curiosity before she’s even finished studying the container.

“What...What are these?”

Harry rolls his eyes jokingly, tapping the object for emphasis. “Read the fine print, love.”

Y/N focuses on the region he’d pointed out, reciting aloud. “‘Vibrating silicone finger gloves. For the use of personal pleasure or with partners.’”

Then it all clicks.

“Oh my God, you got me— what?!” Y/N’s head snaps up in shock, mouth parted and brows creased. “Harry, what?”

The young man laughs airily, gently opening the seal of the box in her hands, which she is now holding as if it were a weapon of mass destruction. It’s such a weird present to give in general, moreso all out of the blue, so she can’t be blamed for her reaction.

He uncaps the packaging, rummaging through its contents and pulling out two of the tiny rubbery gloves. They’re transparent and ribbed, obviously meant to deliver as many sensations as possible, and they’re about two inches in length. He slips them onto his index and middle finger, making scissoring motions for the purpose of symbolism, but mainly just to watch Y/N fidget. “I remember how you said you don’t have sex toys because you’d never really thought about buying any, so I went and picked these up down at my favorite shop. Jessi said they’re good for beginners.”

“Jessi?” Y/N’s voice is tight. She’s not sure how to respond to this; she’s never been in this situation before. No one has ever just given her a sex toy as if a were a candy bar. “Who’s Jessi and why do they need to know about my sex life?”

“She’s the manager.” Harry says matter-of-factly. He doesn’t seem to find anything strange about this encounter. “She helped me pick out my first pocket vag, so I trust her with my soul. Here, look. You just slip them on and—” He makes finger thrusting motions in the air, wiggling his digits playfully. “Big O. Not as good as what I can give you, obviously, but close enough.”

“Harry, you do realize this is a little…odd, right?”

The boy blinks at Y/N blankly. “What? Why? Sex is literally the basis of this whole thing.” He signals back and forth between them with his gloved forefinger. “It’s really not that weird at all, if y’think about it.”

“I just...it’s like…”

Her argument fizzles to an end the longer she stares at him. He has the most wholesome expression painted across his handsome features, his eyes glossy with excitement. He looks genuinely elated about the present and she can’t find it in herself to question him any further. As unorthodox as this may be, it’s the first true act of kindness anyone has shown Y/N since she had moved to California. It’s the first time anyone has given the girl anything without her having to request it. She comes to the realization that Harry really is the only friend she has at the moment, and she refuses to pick and prod at that, lest he retract from her on the grounds that she’s ungrateful. Yes, this is a little atypical, but so is their whole dynamic. In his own twisted way, this is how Harry shows his friendship.

The more she ponders on it, she starts to understand that this truly is something she should accept. He went out of his way to get her this gift, which solidifies their acquaintanceship. It’s sweet.

“You know what, never mind. Thank you! I love them.”

The giddy smile that cracks his face melts her heart. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

Harry then softly grasps her hand with his, tugging her down the entrance hallway, his intentions set on her bedroom. His voice takes on a deeper sultry twang, the corners of his mouth twitching suggestively. “Because on my way here, I was thinking, yeah? And I figured: who better to teach you how to use these than the person who picked them out.”

“Of fucking course.” Y/N huffs in amusement, shaking her head but allowing herself to be guided forward. “I should’ve known you had an ulterior motive.”

“Heyyyyy!” Harry’s whine is offended, but the coy simper dimpling his cheeks ruins any defense he could possibly try to spin. “This isn’t an ulterior motive, it’s simply a supporting one.”

“Right.” Y/N states flatly, shuffling forward slowly as he backs down her corridor, momentarily glancing over his shoulder to orient himself. “Buying a fuck buddy a sex toy is totally selfless and mutually exclusive of the agreement.”

Harry takes a turn and crosses the threshold into her bedroom, releasing her arm and instead, he opts for wrapping his fist into the loose material of her large Transformers tee, twisting the fabric around his knuckles and giving it a sharp yank. She stumbles into his chest and almost drops the box.

The vampire gazes down at her with half-lidded eyes, long lashes tempting and plush lips the color of roses. “I never said it was mutually exclusive. I just said it wasn’t meant to be evidently inclusive.”

He takes the box from her grip, sliding it onto her nightstand so that any obstacles between them are eliminated. He beckons her closer with a flick of his wrist, feeling heat erupt across his chest as her palms slap down against it to steady herself. She’s always so warm, almost like a furnace. It’s a nice contrast to his ever-present coldness.

Harry’s cupped fingers nurse the slope of her jaw, tilting her chin up to level his, Cupid’s bow ghosting over her own teasingly as a grin threatens to betray him. His accent is thick, heavy with condescension. “Now do you want me to fuck you or not?”

Y/N gulps audibly, the sudden jump in her heart rate causing Harry’s cock to give a foreshadowing twitch in his designer jeans. Her eyes soften with a form of weepy desire, head nodding in his grasp.

Harry’s top teeth catch on his lower lip as he appraises her from over the crest of his defined cheekbones. “I don’t think I heard you, pet. Must be the AC draft.”

The mortal’s eyes fall shut as she composes herself, a shaky sigh faltering past her nostrils. She tips forward onto her toes, connecting her itching mouth to his. Harry allows it, listing his head to the side to grant her more access, his free arm roping across the dip of her spine and pressing her front flushed to his. The kiss is soft and heated, full of drunken tongues and muffled whimpers. It’s tame compared to most of the others they’ve shared, but Harry likes it. It’s sloppy and intimate; only the beginning of what he knows will be a long night.

Her words sting the ridges of his lips, hot and bated. “I want you to fuck me.”

Harry speaks into her mouth, tone gentle but packing a punch. “Get my belt off for me, will you? I’m tying you to the bed tonight.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice, a dark chuckle vibrating across his tongue when her fingers immediately begin to fumble with his belt buckle.

Once Harry has looped the leather tightly around Y/N’s wrists and has knotted them to one of the wooden railings of her headboard, he sits back on his heels to admire his work. Y/N is splayed out across her mattress with her arms suspended above her head, bare thighs clasped in anticipation as her t-shirt gathers around her waist. Her hands are curled into fists, nails digging into her palms as she watches Harry leisurely shrug off his cardigan, keeping eye contact with her the whole way through. His tattoos stand out against the buttery light of the single lamp on the table, tanned arms flexing sinfully.

He shifts around, laying down onto his stomach and coasting his palms up her quivering legs, kissing over her kneecaps and along the crease of her inner thighs, bunching her shirt further up her body as he goes. As soon as he spots the first garter, he blacks out for a millisecond, vision washing red.

“Fuck, wait— did you…?” His voice is strained and desperate as he shoves the rest of her clothes up her torso, pulling her shirt over her head and letting it rest at her elbows. He hums appreciatively when he’s met with the full cherry-colored lingerie set from a few days ago, garters and all. “God, you did.”

Y/N’s gaze falls timidly, a sheepish smile brushing over her face. “I thought you’d want to see it in person, since you seemed to like it so much.”

“Mm...” Harry struggles to swallow, fingers hooking under the straps that clip to the hem of her underwear, pulling the fabric from her skin and letting them snap back into place. He revels in the tiny noise she lets slip, the pads of his digits now toying across the frilly bands encircling her upper legs. After a thoughtful heartbeat, Harry speaks up, wistful but vehement. “I’m going to make you soil your sheets again.”

Y/N bucks a tad at his promise, wrists stressing against the leather belt, but Harry’s practiced enough bondage in his lifetime to know she won’t be getting out anytime soon. He parts her knees open with his palms, dragging his silicone-covered fingers down her clothed clit and tutting when she lets out a stuttery gasp.

“Always so sensitive, aren’t you, angel?” The vampire pets at her core patiently, heat pooling at the base of his abdomen as he feels her panties damped with every stroke of his touch. “Christ, you’re already soaking through.”

“Want more.” The girl’s plead is strangled as she actively forces herself to keep her legs wide open, knowing that if she were to allow them to snap shut, Harry would only pry them apart again. “I’ve been thinking about this all week. Please.”

“All week?” Harry drags tongue across the inside of her thigh, nipping at the flesh tauntingly, the amber specks in his eyes glittering amidst his lashes. He continues to rub through her underwear, drinking up all the little noises streaming from her throat. “Tread lightly, dove. You’re swelling my ego.”

“I just…” Her hips give another jerk when he wriggles two rubber-clad fingers into the crotch of her bottoms, spreading her open just a bit and grinning against her skin at how wet she’s become. “I just need it hard tonight, Harry. Need you to leave me sore.”

“I always leave you sore.” The monster reasons mockingly, taking one of the garters between his teeth and tugging, releasing so it stings her like before. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

Y/N trembles out an exhale, gathering herself enough to give him what he wants. “I need you to fuck me like you hate me.”

Harry grabs onto either sides of her panties, slowly peeling them down her legs and then scooting closer forward, planting an open-mouthed kiss right onto her bare clit. She mewls in return, her restraints creaking the bed. He continues pressing messy wet pecks to her cunt, feeling her tense up each time his soft lips suckle her fervently.

“Is that why you sent that picture?” Harry wonders aloud, pausing his motions and raising one eyebrow at her. “Because you wanted me mad?”

The human nods, face wracked with guilt. It’s cute that she feels bad, especially because Harry had, in actuality, enjoyed her little stunt. Seeing her bent over like that, in a position that shows she couldn’t wait to please him— that she couldn’t wait until Friday came around so he could do to her whatever he deemed fit...It was the best form of edging he’s ever experienced. But for the sake of giving her what she wants, he’ll bite the bait.

Harry rises up onto his knees, parting her thighs further as he fits himself between them, the pads of his gloved digits dancing across the thick of her damp clit. He bends down until his nose smudges over hers, the breath of his low words hot against her parted mouth.

“Well, it fucking worked.”

Harry taps his index and middle fingers against his palm in one quick flick and the tiny metal plates situated along the tips purr to life. He sinks knuckle-deep inside of Y/N, cold rings catching on her folds as he curls upwards to get at that special spot that resides along the pit of her tummy. The moan she releases it so raw and broken, it sends a zip of lightning through his veins.

He fucks her like that for a while, with his strong chest poised against her heaving own as he marks love bites onto the cleavage spilling from her lace bra, his skilled fingers pumping into her at a harsh pace that has her legs shaking on either sides. He thumbs over her clit messily, the silicone molds sending waves of vibrations through her clenching walls as he relentlessly toys with her g-spot, her arms thrashing against his belt. Fragmented sounds of bliss freely stream from Y/N’s mouth without shame, his name intermingling amongst the whimpers as her head throws back against the headboard. Harry grips her throat in one hand, holding her to the sturdy surface as his other bobs between her thighs roughly, the bed groaning as a result of their intense actions. His wrist begins to ache from how hard he’s going, but the tears trickling out from the corners of Y/N’s eyes and the way she’s panting into his mouth are enough to keep him going.

“Look at me.” Harry squeezes her jugular tighter, garnering attention. She forces her eyelids open, inhales hiccuping when he braces his cool forehead to hers, his irises the color of a forest at midnight, pupils blown out of proportion. His teeth dig into her bottom lip just to feel it swell, a growl stirring the gravel in his chest. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Y-Yes.” Y/N boggles her head feverishly, glimpsing down over her sweaty cheeks to see the way his veins are chiseling along the forearm that is flexing between her drenched thighs. “Fuck, it’s so g-good.”

“Yeah? How about we go a little higher, hm?” Harry scrapes the pads of his fingers against that spongy place inside her, pressing the vibrators down and the motion clicks the toy into a higher level of intensity.

Y/N writhes in his grasp, back arching off the headboard as deeper, more concentrated rumbles lap throughout her body. “Harry— I— that’s— God, just please!”

Harry takes ahold of her jaw as he continues finger-fucking her without remorse, his short breaths warm against her burning lips. “That’s my girl. Taking it hard and loving every second.”

Y/N’s eyes lull back into her head. She doesn’t know why, but hearing Harry call her his girl satisfies her in a manner so deep, she didn’t know it existed. Just hearing him recognize her as his— as something he claims for himself, almost like an extension of who he is— stirs a foreign form of fulfillment in the back of her mind.

“I’m—” The girl chokes on her sentence, finding it difficult to concentrate with so much pleasure coursing through her system, as well as with Harry painting hickies across the side of her strained neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

The immortal’s voice is stern and authoritative. “No, you’re not.”

“I am, I can’t hold—”

“Yes,” Harry’s grip firms, pace sharpening into unapologetic slams, “you can. And you will. If you cum before I let you, you’re not getting anything else from me for the rest of the night. Do I make myself clear?”

Y/N’s cunt tightens around his fingers, warning him that she’s about to peak. “Harry, I’m sorry—but— but I—”

“Do I make myself clear?”

Y/N has no hope that she can keep it in, but she adores the darkness swirling in Harry’s eyes at the moment and she’ll do anything if it means getting to witness it for a while longer. “Yes.”

“Good.” She winces when she feels his teeth skim her earlobe, his whisper dripping with arrogant amusement. “I told you I’d make you regret it.”

And he really does keep his oath. Minutes simulate hours as Harry continues to flirt her just along the seams of relief, pulling her back every time he sees her about to tip. Whenever he feels her begin to spasm around his slick fingers, he gives her a cautionary quirk of his brows accompanied by a testing, throaty, “Don’t you fucking dare.” or a simple, silent shake of his head. By some miracle, she manages to reign herself in every time, but each ruined orgasm makes it harder and harder to stifle the next. She doesn’t know how many times it happens; she stops counting after four.

After what feels like decades of torture, Harry finally releases his hold around her jugular, allowing her to properly gulp air for the first time in a while. He sits back against his heels, pulling his hand from between her thighs with a sarcastic sympathetic hiss. “Poor thing.”

He watches as a trail of her juices strings from his digits to her cunt, eventually snapping in the middle as he lifts his hand to study his work. Her release drips down his knuckles and palm, gleaming in the dim lighting. A mildly sadistic glint washes over Harry’s irises and for a split second, they look almost red, but Y/N dismisses it. Her brain is too fogged to trust right now.

The boy’s sight flickers past his hand to where Y/N lies limply, wrists bruised from the bonds, arms quivering weakly, and legs trembling in overstimulation. He’s never seen her look more beautiful than now.

He locks his bright eyes to her exhausted own, watching them shatter to pieces when he pushes his drenched fingers past his pillowy blushed lips. His lashes flutter as her taste washes across his tongue, sweet and decadent as always, a soft groan thrumming deep in his throat. God, he can only imagine how delectable her blood must be at the moment, honeyed by the plethora of endorphins he had repeatedly coaxed into her. He can't wait to feel its warmth fill his mouth later tonight.

Harry removes his fingers with a wet pop, licking across the back of his hand with finality and giving her a daring once-over. “Do you still want my cock? Or are you too sensitive for it, darling?”

He sounds so conceited and self-assured, it causes Y/N’s pride to flare. She wants to make him eat his stupid words.

The mortal licks her chapped lips, wetting her dry throat and clearing it softly, wiping away the sweat on her forehead with her shoulder. “I still want it.”

An impressed expression decorates Harry’s features. “You think you can take it?”

Y/N’s jaw clenches with dedication, her thighs spreading open a tad more and she wills herself not to flinch. Her chin cocks upwards. “I know I can.”

Harry’s brows kink challengingly, a borderline evil smirk sewing onto his face. “Let’s see, then.”

As it turns out, Y/N can take it. However, she knows for a fact she won’t be able to walk right for at least the next week.

Harry lowers his jeans and kicks them off, reaching into his navy briefs and tugging himself out, giving his length a few pumps for good measure as he shifts forward toward her. He flips the girl onto her belly as easily as he’d turn a sheet of paper, tying one arm around her hips and lifting them up as he slides a pillow below. He situates her accordingly onto the cushion, her ass slightly elevated to give him more range of depth. He pats at her backside lightly, telling her to part her knees and she does so obediently, gripping onto the leather strap around her wrists anxiously when she feels the bed shift with his weight. Harry lowers himself over her body, the tee covering his broad chest soaking up the thin sheet of sweat on her back. He moves all of her tangled hair to the side, burying his fingers into her roots and yanking her head back cheekily. He runs his nose across her damp cheekbone and chuckles when she jumps slightly at the feathery sensation.

“You’re pretty stubborn, aren’t you?”

Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip as she struggles to swallow, throat taut from the angle he’s put her in. Her voice carries a confident bite, despite her compromisable position. “I like to think I am, yeah.”

“Well, you know what that makes you, right?” Harry murmurs as he lines himself up with her entrance.

“Mm-mm. What?”

The vampire presses a lingering kiss to the tittering pulse in her temple, feeling it thunder below his skin as he forms his next comment slowly with an ominous edge. “It makes you a brat.”

He feels her heartbeat trip.

“And you know what I do to brats?”

Y/N shakes her head as much as his dominant grasp will allow, body tightening in suspense.

“I fuck them until they break.”

Y/N learns that he’s telling the truth. The first thrust Harry delivers is swift, hard, and unbelievably deep; it causes her to let out a choked scream that no one else has ever drawn from her before, except for him. It’s like he can tap into certain aspects of her body she was unaware of; parts of her waiting for the right person to come along and reveal them. She feels that stroke rip into her tummy, but the pain of his size is something she’s become accustomed to in the last three weeks. She hardly feels it anymore; it had molded from a sharp throb to a dull ache, due to how often she’s experienced it.

Harry doesn’t waste any time, quickly picking up a sloppy, adamant pace that has her hips bouncing against the mattress. He twists her hair around his fist, mouth pressed to the side of her head as his hot pants of exertion send a prickling through her scalp. His other forearm keeps him anchored to the bed as he pounds into her with absolutely no hesitation, the sound of skin slapping, cracked whines, and raspy grunts filling the tense atmosphere of her chilly room.

“Is this what you were hoping would happen when you sent that slutty picture?” Harry grits out, short nails digging into the comforter beneath. “Wanted to get me all riled up just so I’d do your back in?”

Y/N mewls weakly in response, hands clinging to each other within the makeshift cuffs.

“If you wanted me to fuck you like I hate you, you could have just asked. I’m more than happy to give you whatever you want. You don’t have to tempt me.” The vampire gives a particularly deep slam, laughing breathily when the girl’s back instinctively arches forward, paired with a watery yelp of, “Oh!”

Harry’s tongue grazes across the shell of her ear, teeth catching the skin. “But since you did, I’ll give it to you just— like—that.” His thrusts match to each word, fingers coiling harder into her locks. “You deserve it. Especially when you had the nerve to act like such a spoiled little brat right to my face.”

Y/N’s not sure what emboldens her to speak, but her snarky remark is already halfway down her numb tongue before she can stop it. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it.”

Harry hums tauntingly, circling his hips in long strides that urge a series of fractured whimpers to scrape out of Y/N’s sore throat. “Say it again. Go ahead, say it. I want to see you try.”

She remains silent, spine shuddering as she bites down on her tongue to avoid making any more noises that might condemn her.

Harry roughly cranes Y/N’s neck to the side, buttoning their lips together in a filthy kiss that has her cheeks boiling. “That’s what I thought. The only thing that sharp tongue is good for is licking down my cock.”

She gasps against his mouth shakily, tears of sheer bliss gathering along her waterline. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”

Harry can tell her comment holds no true malice behind it; she’s too sweet on him— too whipped on what he gives her— to ever mean it. She’d only said it to provoke him into a power dynamic struggle. But the thing is, Harry’s dealt with feeling powerless before, so he had spent years teaching himself how to win. How to always win.

“Am I, now?” His next line dismantles her entire plan. “Would an asshole let you cum?”

And just like that, her whole demeanor crumbles. “I take it back. I’m s-sorry.”

Harry releases her hair and nips at her ear mockingly, beginning to withdraw himself. “Oh, I think it’s a bit too late for that, minx.”

“No, no! Harry, please. I’m sorry. Genuinely. I promise I won’t say it again. Just…” She tugs helplessly at the belt restraints, trying to twist around to look at him directly. Her voice is wringed out. “Just please.”

The boy pushes a few stringy curls out of his eyes, pressing his tongue into his cheek coyly as he glances down, suggestively smoothing one hand over her ass. He gives it a firm squeeze, lifting his palm teasingly and feeling her tense in anticipation. “Do you want it?”

Y/N glimpses at his bejeweled hand with hunger, then back at his eyes. “Yes.”

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want it.”

“Sorry, I seem to have forgotten what ‘it’ was, exactly. Jog my memory, will you? What is it you want?”

Her irises harden in spite at his shit-eating comment. He’s well aware of how shy she can be when it comes to admitting she wants a spanking, and he’s playing that to his advantage. He’s swimming in the way she squirms.

“I...I want you to spank me.”

He tsks, shaking his head as he twists his HS rings around to face inwards. “You forgot something.”

Y/N’s fingers tighten into begrudging fists. “I want you to spank me, please.”

“There’s a good girl.” His low, accented purr sends electricity through her nerves. “You’re so cute when you beg.”

Harry’s hand comes down swiftly, digits fanned out so that all of his rings print across her backside. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to leave a satisfying sting. He loves the way she jolts forward with a hushed curse of surprise, and he adores seeing the shape of his initials marked across her clammy skin. It’s poetic, almost.

“So pretty.” His mumble is wistful as he massages deeply over the region he had just bruised, but it holds unyielding authority. “Whose is it, doll?”

“Yours.”

“And don’t you fucking forget it.” The creature lifts one palm to do it again, pausing once more just to rev her further. He reaches forward with the other, shoving her face-first into the mattress to get her back to straighten out. “Look forward and don’t make a single sound.”

Y/N obeys, but manages to sneak a peek at his reflection through the waxy wooden surface of her aged bedframe. He looks so good perched behind her with bare heaving shoulders, looking down at her exposed figure over the crests of his sharp cheekbones, brows furrowed into a starved expression that gives away he’s enjoying this probably more than she is. Her voice comes out small and weak. “Yes, sir.”

Harry’s entire face tightens at the word and she feels him throb against her backside.

“Now beg me to let you cum.”

///

The next morning when Y/N’s eyes flutter open to the grey light streaking in through her curtains, the first thing she senses is a pair of eyes staring at the side of her face.

She turns her stiff body over toward where the sensation stems and sure enough, she’s met with a pair of sea glass irises filled to the brim with humor. Harry’s laying on his side with his hands tucked below one of her pillows, tousled ringlets sticking up in wild tuffs (thanks to the activities they’d engaged yesterday), he’s completely bare since he likes sleeping nude (though he’d had the decency to cover himself with sheets from the waist down), and his voice is slower and raspier than usual (a result of being dormant for the last eight or so hours).

“You drool in your sleep.”

Y/N tucks her hands against Harry’s cold pectorals, snuggling deeper into his chest and pinching at one of his nipples in playful revenge. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes,” he reaches up and shoos her hand away, proceeding to wipe at the side of her mouth, where dried spit had accumulated. He makes a theatrical gagging face, cleaning his thumb off across the collar of her t-shirt. “You do.”

Y/N sighs in exasperation, making a bold leap to a different topic to avoid talking about her embarrassing sleep habits. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you staring at people while they sleep is weird? Like, serial killer weird?”

Harry tucks a few matted strands of hair behind the human’s ear, thumbing over her cheekbone tenderly. He hardly ever indulges in such actions, simply because they’re typically reserved for actual couples, which he and Y/N are definitely not. But last night— after he had finally finished being a prick and allowed her cum along with him, and after she had fallen into the bed with exhaustion taking her under, and after he’d had his greedy fill of her blood for the week— he’d gotten bored of playing on his phone. He’d burned through three cold case documentaries on Netflix and played enough Mario Kart to memorize the race charts; it had grown old quickly, and he eventually just locked the device and placed it on her nightstand. He spent the next hour staring at her hideous ceiling, and the one after that fantasizing about taking down her tapestry and burning it in the oven. And finally, after hours of mindless daydreams and letting his eyes chase the city lights dancing across the walls of her room, he had settled onto his side and watched her sleep.

Harry did it simply because he had nothing else to distract him. He figured it would eventually bore him enough that maybe— just maybe, if he was lucky— he would fall asleep alongside her. But he didn’t, so he just ended up gazing at her slumbering face until dawn. He had been surprised by how oddly beautiful Y/N looked sleeping— how relaxed and tranquil, with her features soft and skin seemingly made of flawless porcelain. That intrigue had bled into the moment they share now, resulting in his touch drifting down the curve of her jaw and across the faint dimple on her chin. He follows the slope of her neck and admires the smoothness of her flesh with the ridges of his fingertips, hearing her breathing stutter ever so slightly. His heightened senses make it feel as if he’s running his digits over velvet and the only concept he can compare it to is touching forbidden artwork at an exhibit. It’s exciting, but he knows that if he keeps going, he could end up getting himself into a crock of shit.

When the pads of his fingers land on two prominent purple bruises he’d forgotten existed, he’s broken from his soft stupor. He retracts his touch as if she were made of iron, forcing himself to ignore the pout that automatically plumps her delicate lips.

He clears his throat awkwardly, a tight chuckle stringing his vocal chords. “Staring at someone in their sleep seemed to work just fine for Edward Cullen, though.”

Y/N snorts sharply, rolling her eyes up towards her headboard. When she sees his belt is still hanging off of it from the night prior, she hurriedly glances back down, pretending not to have seen it.

“It’s funny you say that because as I recall, he literally admitted to being a murderer. I believe his exact words were,” she exaggerates her voice into an angsty cry, grasping at her chest dramatically, “‘This is the skin of a killer, Bella!’”

Harry bursts into boyish giggles, falling fully onto his back and swiping his palm up his face, fingers remaining perched over his closed eyes as he laughs. He sighs airily, shaking his head as an afterthought. “What a moron.”

“Truly. His dad was hotter.”

“Way hotter.” Harry agrees passionately, burying his hand into his messy curls, attempting to comb out some of the tangles. “And he was a doctor. What a man.”

“Bella really fucked that one up. She had a midlife crisis over choosing between a sad vampire who looked like he had chronic constipation, and a yappy dog with a shirt phobia. All when Carlisle was right there. Brain damage, honestly.”

“A moment of prayer for the mentally incapacitated. Couldn't be me!”

“Couldn’t be me, either.”

“Fuck, yeah.” Harry throws his hand up, inviting Y/N to give him a high five. “To good taste.”

She gladly delivers. “Exquisite taste.”

An instance of comfortable silence suspends between the pair of lovers, filled with the soft thrum of the air vent and the distant chirping of birds outside Y/N’s windowpane. She traces her index nail over the wings of the swallow tattoos along Harry’s collarbones, seeming to be deep in thought. She then speaks up once again.

“Emmett was pretty hot, as well.”

“You know what? I’m happy you mentioned that ‘cause— full disclosure here— I’d ride him like a fucking bull.”

Now it’s Y/N’s turn to explode in a fit of giggles, nose scrunching and eyes crinkling shut as she loses herself at Harry’s graphic confession.

“Why are you laughing?!” The fact that he sounds genuinely appalled only spurs her sounds of glee. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t take that chance if you got it. Like, okay, he’s an airhead, yeah? I’m aware. But fuck’s sake, look at his body. I’d happily let him beat me at arm wrestling if it means I get that celebratory dick afterwards.”

The mortal manages to calm down a handful of heartbeats later and Harry feels strangely proud of how he’d made her pulse spike.

“You’re valid for that, don’t worry. I couldn’t have said it—” A single giggle interupts her sentence, but she reigns it in before it can spiral. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Literally. There’s no way to express it better than exactly how you stated it.”

Harry smirks softly up at the ceiling, folding his free arm behind his head as the other wraps securely down Y/N’s back, absentmindedly rubbing in gentle soothing circles. “My mind. It’s amazing, innit?”

“It’s definitely something.”

Another span of cozy quietness fills the atmosphere of the room, longer than the last. Harry doesn’t mind. He finds it appeasing, and he continues to delight himself with running his touch up and down Y/N’s spine. He’s not sure how much time passes, but he’s aware that it’s probably a bit. His theory is supported by how he witnesses the beam of watery light that filters over the duvet gradually fade from silver to a sunflower yellow, indicating full daybreak.

Even then, he doesn’t say a word, too caught up in this innocent bubble of domestic bliss to pop it so suddenly. He just lays there and listens. Listens to the birds harmonizing with each other across the branches of the tree outside. To the steady breaths that fill Y/N’s lungs with cool air, faltering past her nostrils in the same manner and fogging the metal of his cross necklace. To the faint sound of footsteps trotting down the staircase outside her apartment, and to the vague spritz of the sprinkler system going off at the front of the complex. To the distant honking of car horns in traffic, and to a random conversation between two friends as they walk past the pavement just under Y/N’s balcony. He hasn’t felt this at ease in eons.

Harry just allows himself to grow in tune with the world around him— a world he’d been convinced was against him for the longest time. A world he was convinced stole his happiness and replaced it with the shackles of a blood-driven afterlife, for no other reason than because he’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and met the wrong person. But now, he feels like he’s in the right place, at the right time, spending it with the right person— or at least a half-decent person— and he doesn’t want to let it slip between his fingers so soon. He wants to bask in it, even if he knows it’ll pass.

And eventually, it does pass, and Y/N is the one who brings it to an end.

The girl slowly peels away from Harry’s side, his lips dipping downwards slightly at the loss of the warmth she radiates. He thinks she’s about to get up to probably go use the bathroom or to make breakfast, but instead, she just bends her upper body over the edge of her bed to retrieve something from the floor. She comes back up with the box he’d brought her the evening before (which had ended up on the ground as a result of her bed rocking violently), setting it in the small space between their laps. She then returns to her place cuddled into his torso, looking up at him with an expression that Harry can only interpret as expecting.

The vampire glances down at the container and then back up to Y/N’s face, raising his eyebrows curiously, voice tinged with comedy. “What did I say about bringing sex toys to the dinner table?”

Y/N stares up at him flatly for a second, fighting off a smile. “I just wanted to thank you again. It’s nice of you to bring me a present, even as strange as this one.”

Harry sucks at his teeth, waving a hand dismissively, blinking down at her with slyness sparkling around his pupils. “What are friends for, if not for buying you vibrating finger gloves and then fucking you with them until you cry?”

Despite having been acquainted with Harry’s crude humor for three weeks now, it still manages to make Y/N’s cheeks sizzle. It could also be the fact that this is the first time Harry has openly accepted Y/N as a friend. It’s the first time he’s ever mentioned her name and that word in the same sentence, meaning that she can now shake a weight off her shoulders— a weight that had insisted he was only using her for sex, that he would eventually grow bored of her, and that he would throw her away once he was done. It’s good to know that’s not the case, and that the friendship aspect of their agreement is true to its name.

“Right.” Y/N’s smile is full of so much genuine warmth, Harry feels like she could outshine the sun. “What are friends for, if not that. Thanks, Harry.”

He wonders what she’s thinking, and he finds himself wishing that he had the one valid trait that idiot Edward Cullen possesses: mind-reading. But he doesn’t have it, so he simply returns her gesture and skates the conversation how he best deems fit. “You don’t have to call me ‘Harry’ all the time, you know?”

Y/N’s brows cinch in entertained confusion. “What would I call you, then? Sherlock?”

Harry scoffs lightly at the inside joke, shrugging one shoulder casually. “I mean, you could, if you want to. It might take some getting used to, but I think I can shoulder a full-time second identity. Just for you.”

“How chivalrous.”

“You ain’t ever met a man like me, sweetheart.” He boasts in an over-the-top American southern accent, prying another round of laughter from Y/N, similar to the one before. “But you could also just call me ‘H.’ It’s what most of my other friends use.”

“H.” Y/N repeats, getting a taste for the new nickname. It’s simple, unlike him, but it somehow fits. She then recalls something from a show she’d watched when she was younger and she can’t help but bring it up. “So, like, just your first initial? Like in Gossip Girl?”

Harry’s face immediately drops at the comparison she makes to the cringey teenage soap opera. “You know what, I take it back. You’re not allowed to use it. Illegal. Banned. By an official court. Gavel and all.”

“I’m just making a point!”

“Yeah, a shitty one.”

“Oh, whatever. You’re just mad I debunked your little hipster alter ego. ‘That’s a secret I’ll never tell. Xoxo, H.’”

“Restraining order.” Harry pinches at one of her love handles, an evil grin dimpling his cheeks when she squeals. “Actually, nevermind. We’re going straight to the electric chair. Immediately.”

“You don’t get to decide my punishment, remember?” Y/N slaps at his wrists, trying to ward off his attacks but failing miserably. “You’re just the—stop!— just the executioner.”

“That’s right. I get to strap you to the chair.” Harry finally lets up on the tickling, his lighthearted grin taking on a slightly seductive hue as he momentarily glimpses upwards towards where his belt is hanging. “Though you’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck off.” Y/N smothers her palm against his face, breaking eye contact as she feels her ears bristle with heat.

“Mm, exactly.” Harry gnashes at her hand playfully, but she manages to yank it away before he gets a bite in. “You can’t even admit you like being called a whore.”

“Hey!”

“What?” The vampire gives her a cocky look, wagging his head knowingly and then mimicking her voice in a higher pitch. “‘I’m just making a point!’”

“You’re a dick, you really are.”

“And yet you still ride mine, so who’s the one with the real issues here? Specifically, daddy issues.”

“I’m done with this conversation.” Y/N huffs, returning her attention to the box beside her thigh, muffling the twitching across her lips.

She takes the cardboard into her hands, tracing over the small flap used to pry the top open. Harry watches her with interest, pondering as to what could possibly be scurrying around her skull that she seems so caught up with the context of the gift. He’d gotten it because he knew they would both benefit from it. It’s as simple as that.

“You know,” she starts, but her gaze remains glued to the box, “I feel kinda bad ‘cause, like...You got me this gift, I have nothing to give you in return.”

Harry’s face contorts into a silly frown for a moment, tone humorous. “It’s fine, Y/N. You don’t have to give me anything back. I got it ‘cause I knew we’d enjoy using it together, and because this way, you have something to play with when I’m not around. And you can send me videos of said instances. It’s truly a win-win. A double-ended gift.”

“I suppose.” She mumbles softly, continuing to pick at the lip of cardboard sticking out. “But I feel like it’s only fair that you get to use it, too, don’t you think?”

And then the reason she’s insistent about this dawns on Harry. The way she’s avoiding looking at him directly, how her heart rate is slowly ebbing upwards, how she is gradually scooting closer to his body, how he can feel her thighs are clasped tightly below the comforter. How the scent of honey and lavender has intensified. How she keeps glancing towards where the sheets are crumpled messily around his hips in a haphazard attempt to remain civil.

When the monster speaks, it carries all the arrogance brought forward by his discovery. “If you wanna give me a handjob with the toy on, just say so.”

The human’s head snaps upwards, her expression one of utter alarm at his lewd comment, but he can see right through her act. It’s obvious that was her intention all along— the desire in her eyes is poorly masked. She looks so adorable, pretending not to know what he’s referring to, her palms gripping the box slightly tighter than before.

Harry twirls a strand of her hair around his finger nonchalantly, giving it a jesting tug. “I just find it funny how much of a horny menace you can be.”

“What—?”

“And it’s not even ten A.M. yet.”

“What do you—?”

“Y/N,” Harry sighs tiredly, giving her an omniscient look, “I’ve slept with you enough times to know when you want something. It’s written all over your body language and you’re pretty shit at hiding it in your eyes. Just admit you want to and I’ll let you.”

The faux shock slowly melts off her face, replaced by sheepish humiliation at being so easily sussed out. She chews on her bottom lip pensively, struggling to sew together the appropriate words to communicate the very inappropriate activity she wants to engage in. Harry has to withhold from leaning down and taking a bite from her tempting mouth.

She inhales a deep breath through her nose, puffing it out slowly and tapping her fingers across the box nervously. Her voice pipes up so softly, it’s almost inaudible. “I want to give you a handjob with the toy.”

Harry gently cards his fingers into the mussed roots along the back of her head, using that hold to guide her sight upwards until it meets his. He leans down, smearing his lips over her own, feeling static pass through the ridges of their skin. “That’s all you had to say, darling. Go ahead, then. Make me cum.”

Y/N swallows thickly, lashes fluttering bashfully as she pastes her mouth to his in a soft kiss. It’s a simple action with just their lips and nothing else. No tongue, no teeth, no sucking, nothing sloppy or desperate— not yet, anyways. He can tell she does it as a way to ease herself into this. She wants to, that much is arousingly obvious, but for some crazy reason unbeknownst to him, she’s still shy about it. That’s what happens when you come from a conservative raising: you get intimacy issues. He of all people— with his Victorian era background— would know.

The hand Harry has cupping the nape of her neck shifts over a smidge, ending up splayed across the side of her face. His palm rests on her cheekbone and his fingers in her locks, his wrist cradling the back of her skull as he patiently deepens the kiss. His chest begins to heave slightly, a familiar sensation already frothing at the trench of his stomach. Harry can feel Y/N’s clumsy movements as she unboxes the vibrators, digging through the packaging and trying to slip them on blindly, not wanting to break away from his embrace. The way he’s flirting his tongue along the inside of her top lip is just too consuming to leave.

After a few seconds of grappling and a string of annoyed curse words, Harry giggles lightly into her mouth, nudging the tip of his nose across the bridge of hers. The jade tint in his irises is waltzing with amusement, all at her expense. “Sometime today, love.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I just— I can’t— they won’t—” The mortal releases an irritated growl into their kiss, reluctantly splitting away when it becomes clear she won’t be able to get the rubber gloves on without giving the task her full attention. “God, I’m such a...Sorry.”

Harry rolls his eyes in mirth, pecking sweetly along the angry creases present over her forehead and between her brows. He thumbs over her cheek affectionately to soothe her nerves, his other hand scratching distractedly at the back of his neck. He filters curls through his fingers as he waits, bicep jolting in the process. “It’s fine, I’m just teasing. I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

“Thanks. Just give me—” The girl pauses her actions for a second, jutting her chin back up towards him and locking the vampire into another quick kiss, solely for the purpose of keeping him interested while she figures herself out. She breaks away again, returning to her mission. “Just give me a minute.”

Now that she can see, Y/N successfully wriggles all five of her fingers into their designated molds. She prods at them gingerly, copying Harry’s actions from the night prior, using that experience as a manual. The mini-vibrators purr to life, a buzzing sensation trickling down her fingers. She glances back up at an awaiting Harry, who gives her such an easy, good-natured smile, she instantly reaches up and glues their mouths together again.

“You’re so eager.” The boy grins into the kiss, jumping a bit when he feels her tittering fingers duck beneath the covers around his lower torso. “It’s hot.”

“I just want to make you feel good.” Y/N mumbles, one palm braced to his strong shoulder as the other rides down his bare abdomen. She can feel his grip on her hair tightening the closer she gets to his cock. “That’s all.”

“Guess I’m just the luckiest— shit.” Harry’s quip is interrupted when Y/N wraps her digits around his length, giving it one slow, testing pump. His jaw drops open and he begins panting into her mouth, the corners of his lips ticking upwards into a smirk as an intense pleasure swells between his thick thighs. “Jesus fucking Christ, that feels— fuck, that’s incredible, oh my God.”

“Yeah?” The human asks timidly, gazing up at him dreamily from below her lashes as his eyes lull back into his head. “Not too much?”

Harry loves how attentive she is— how she’s checking to make sure he’s alright before continuing. If he had a heart, it would surely be glowing right now.

Harry gulps down the lump in his throat, voice more strained and needy than she’s ever heard it. “No, I’m good, I’m good. Keep going.”

Y/N gradually sinks her palm back down to his base, feeling his cock twitch desperately as the vibrators work their magic. She slowly slinks back up to his tip, thumbing over it carefully, pressing the toy on her thumb pad right over his slit. The garbled moan that emits from Harry is a sound her ears will never forget. It’s a sound she wishes she could record and listen to on a loop.

“Fucking hell, don’t— please, just— oh—” Harry stutters through a plead, voice bleeding, naked chest now heaving wildly against her own. His hips buck forward into her hand, but she maintains a steady grip, keeping the vibrator pressed to the center of his cock’s head.

“Don’t what?” She whispers into his mouth, suckling at his Cupid’s bow and reveling in the little broken noises he pours onto her tongue.

Harry’s breaths are shallow and pained, the grip on her hair stronger than she thought possible as the fingers of his opposite hand yank at his own feverishly. He’s barely able to choke out his next sentence. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” Y/N begins to fish for a solid rhythm, her strokes setting into medium pace and gauging the receiver's reaction. “How’s that?”

Bright colors web across Harry’s eyelids and he feels like his soul is being torn from his body. “Y-Yeah, that’s perfect, baby. It’s so good— you’re so good.”

“I am?” Y/N swipes her thumb over his tip again, and when he whimpers brokenly against her lips, she does it again. It urges the same exact reaction, but more shattered. So she does it again. And again, and again, and again. And each time it happens, his hips jerk more violently, chasing her intoxicating touch. She can feel Harry’s precum drip down his length and leak between the cracks of her fingers.

“You are, you’re just so fucking good to me.” Harry’s spewing words at this point, brain half conscious, half floating in bliss. Whatever dam of common sense holds his mind together crumbles, all of his thoughts rushing out in the form of jumbled phrases and cracked whines. “You get me going like nothing else, pet. You get me going so easily, it’s embarrassing. You make me cum so hard, it feels like I’m touching h-heaven. And your mouth— God, y-your mouth. It’s the best I’ve ever had. It’s so soft and warm, and your lips are so pretty and silky. I could kiss you for hours. And your tongue— you know how to use it so well. You lick me once and I’m already on edge. And every time you get down on your knees, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Y/N sighs shakily at Harry’s string of confessions, staring up at him with wide eyes as his own stay shut loosely, long lashes perched on his rosy cheekbones, handsome features slack with euphoria. She doesn’t halt her motions, continuing to pump him excitedly. The girl passes her thumb over his tip every time she gets to the top, and gives a hard squeeze every time she thunks down against his base, twisting her wrist as she glides back and forth between the two points of reference. That combination seems to work well, evident in the steady stream of vulgarities falling from Harry’s swollen lips as he thrusts upwards to match her pace. His groans splash across her tongue, traveling down her throat and burning into her stomach. She wants him to cum probably more than he does.

Y/N glimpses down, watching her sheets tent as she works Harry over, the outline of her knuckles pressing into the turquoise fabric. It’s such an erotic scene and she knows it’ll be branded across the front of her brain for years to come. She cranes her neck back up to look at the vampire, her breath catching in her lungs. He looks so pretty with his dark pink lips parted in pleasure, his damp ringlets matting along his sweaty hairline, his structured jaw ticking, and his usually sharp traits softened by ecstasy. She’ll do anything to make that image last.

“Tell me more.” Y/N murmurs, swimming in the praise he is so willing to dish out.

His eyes flicker for a heartbeat and in that instance, they look oddly darker than normal. Almost crimson, but she knows it’s due to the shadow of his lashes. The words that spill from his mouth next make her forget all about that occurrence, his voice melodic and dark, sticky against her wet lips.

“Your hands are one of my favorite things about you, I think. They’re smaller than mine and I love how your fingers don’t touch when you wrap them around my cock. I love how they leave my back raw with scratches, and I love how they look tied to the bedpost. I love it when they press flat against my chest when you ride me, and how you lean back on them when I’m on my knees with my head between your thighs. I love how they yank at my hair when you’re about to cum, and how they grip my upper arms when we make-out. I love how your nails dig into my thighs when you're going down on me, and how they look fisting at the sheets when I’m taking you from behind. And I love how they feel tugging me off, like you’re doing now. I just love how perfect they are— how perfect you are.”

Y/N is left speechless, Harry’s monologue ringing in her heated ears as he gazes at her intensely amidst heavy, barely-cracked eyelashes. His broad chest gasps for air and he takes it upon himself— despite his wrecked appearance— to smush their mouths deeper together, pooling moans across the roof of her own.

“I’m—” His breathing throttles, voice coming out softer than she’s heard it in the last three weeks. “I’m gonna cum.”

Y/N nods her head numbly, strokes becoming lazy and fast, eager for him to finish. “I want you to. I want you to cum for me so bad. Please?”

Harry’s hips writhe in a tell-tale sign that he’s about to tip. His whimper tastes sweet on her tongue, the meaning behind it pure syrup to her ego. “You’re the only one who makes me feel this good.”

The mortal whines gently in return, eyes falling shut as she feels him grow heavier in her palm. “You’re the only one I want to make feel this good.”

The knot of white hot pleasure in his belly begins to unravel, his entire spine shuddering as a result, all strain beginning to wash out of his system in spurts if blissful electricity. He can feel his orgasm racing up his prick, pulling his composure along with it. He gives one last jerk against Y/N’s cupped fingers, feeling her press her vibrating thumb over his slit one more time for good measure. When the first milky ribbon spurts out, that’s when he feels it.

Harry’s eyelids fly open in alarm as black veins protrude along the whites of his eyes, all his muscles contracting at once, defense mode activated. Y/N’s lips are on his neck.

His first instinct is to do what he always does and guide her away from that sensitive, highly forbidden area. His fist tightens in her hair and he’s about to yank her back up to his mouth when suddenly, the icy tension present in his veins disappears. It’s replaced by a soothing warmth, which travels through every crevice in his body and kindles his climax, his impulsive hatred for being touched in that specific region funneling away completely. He can’t remember a time where this has happened before.

Harry’s grip loosens hesitantly as he treads into this unexplored territory, allowing her to continue suckling along his throat. The sensation would usually garner a reaction similar to that of a molten metal brand being placed on his skin, but now— for some startling reason— he doesn’t feel any contempt. He just feels relaxed and cradled in the best way imaginable. The impact is pleasant this time around, and he finds himself wanting more of it. So, he lets her give him more. He lets this strange girl kiss and gasp and lick against his jugular while she finishes getting him off, his own desperate sounds of need bouncing around the brick walls of her bedroom. He lets her coax wave after wave of cum out of him, feeling it splatter against her bedspread and coat over her hand. He whines and grunts into the hair along the crown of her head, tears blearing his eyes as her scent of sugar and flowers clouds his mind. And when his release finally sputters to an end, he lets out an elongated groan so deep, it makes his chest ache.

“Fuck. You’re...You’re an absolute angel.”

Y/N draws her hand out from beneath the bed sheets, turning off the vibrating finger pads by pressing them against her palm. She looks down at the milky substance covering the toys and before Harry can make even a sound of encouragement, she’s already licking it off each individual piece. The girl looks up at the vampire as she cleans every trace of him off her fingers, swallowing it all down with a doe-like tint across her hazy gaze and murmuring a soft, “You taste good.” over a full mouth. Harry just watches silently, heavy breathing slowly starting to even out. God, she really is such a fucking godsend.

The next couple of minutes list by in a blur, all of his focus taken up by the feeling of unsettlement pricking at the back of his brain. Why had he let her touch him there? Why had he let her touch him in a place no one has since before his death?

Y/N puts the toys back in their box, putting them off to the side to thoroughly clean later. She reaches down, bunching up her bedspread in her hand and wiping Harry’s pelvis, thighs, and tummy down until he’s decently clean, as well as whatever is left on her hand. She then snuggles up to his side once again, laying her head into the crook between his arm and pectoral muscles, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully along with him. The irritating red tint across Harry’s chest, stomach, and neck gradually fades away, and he barely flinches when he feels her sponge her lips against his Adam’s Apple. She lulls the tip of her middle finger up along the vein of his cock one more time for finality, smiling slyly when he hisses in sensitivity.

The immortal tilts his head down to appraise her, sniffling lightly and allowing a weak, watery smile across his raw lips. His tone is feathery and detached. “That was…Christ.”

Y/N giggles softly, nodding along to his unspoken opinion. “It was fun. Really fun. We should do it again sometime.”

Harry splutters into a drunken laugh, mind still floating around the room. “I don’t think I could survive that again.”

Y/N grins up at him cheekily. “Pussy.”

Her friend breaks into an expression of utter offense, cheeks still slightly rosy. He shoves her head roughly as vengeance. “Hey! Piss off. Don’t blame it on me, blame it on the male anatomy.”

The girl shakes her head up at him, eyebrows shrugging mockingly. “Excuses, excuses.”

“Whatever.”

A moment passes, and then Y/N speaks up again, her index finger poking playfully into the center of his bare chest, right over the butterfly tattoo. “Also, you’re washing my sheets. Your mess, you clean it up.”

Harry grins against her forehead, scratching lightly at the back of her scalp. “Fair enough…Wait, is that why you wanted to do this? ‘Cause you knew I’d soil your sheets and you could force me to do your laundry?”

That hadn’t been her motive at all, and Harry knows that, but she plays along anyways for the hell of the joke. “Perhaps.”

“Wow. I feel used.”

“Too bad. Go do it. Now. Before it stains.”

Harry stares at her like she’s sprouted a second head. “I literally can’t walk right now! I can’t feel anything below my waist.”

Y/N lifts the comforter off her body, symbolically showing off the bruises his fingertips and rings had left the night before. “Well, neither can I!”

Harry reaches down and touches the marks, chuckling to himself. “How unfortunate. Who’s gonna make breakfast, then, if neither of us can even stand?”

“We could UberEats some iHop.”

“Who’s gonna get the door?”

“Well, I can’t solve everything on my own, now can I?!” Y/N slaps his hand away from her body. “Contribute! You’re the lead detective, after all.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Harry cocks his head to the side in recollection, remembering his role in their imaginary dynamic duo scenario. “And because I’m the lead, I say…” He ropes his lean arms around the human and buries his face into her warm neck, pulling her close and intertwining their legs together, trapping her to the mattress along with him. “I say we just bum around for a bit longer. Just until one of us can actually muster up the strength to leave the bed.”

Y/N makes an exasperated noise in the back of her throat, but makes no apparent attempt to leave his embrace. “Fine.”

“Mystery solved, then! Elementary, my dear Watson.”

“You’re so dumb.”

The pair stay cuddled for a bit, with Y/N’s hands loosely gripping Harry’s forearms, tracing across his mermaid tattoo absently. She wanders in her thoughts for a period of time, lost in the sensation of Harry’s warm breath fanning down her neck, his hot lips pressing small kisses behind her ear every once in a while. She likes their morning after routine; it’s innocent and fun and sharing moments like this makes it easy to forget her troubles. She wants more of this, and she finds herself trying to come up with ways to convince Harry to spend the night more often. This is only the fourth time he’s stayed until morning and she wants that number to grow.

An idea dawns on her and she’s voicing it before her inhibitions can kill it off.

“Do you...Do you maybe wanna stay over the rest of the weekend?”

Harry draws his face from the alcove of her soft neck, eyebrows poised in curiosity. “The rest of the weekend?”

“Yeah!” Y/N shifts her gaze up to look at him, hope swirling around her pupils. “Like, spend the rest of today and tomorrow over, and then leave tomorrow night ‘cause I have work on Monday. Does that, like...Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.” Harry says slowly, mulling over her offer, thinking back to his schedule. He doesn’t think he has any commitments this weekend that would require him being home— none he can’t cancel easily, anyways. He’d told Mitch he’d go see him play again at the pub later today, but it’s the same set as last time, so he doesn’t think his best friend would mind if he missed it just this once. Niall was planning a barbecue at his place on Sunday, but the Irish bloke does one almost every other week so it’s nothing Harry can’t make up. Plus, what type of idiot would pass up two day’s worth of amazing sex? The more, the merrier.

Y/N watches the vampire’s expression carefully, trying to interpret whether her request was out of their boundaries. She doesn’t want to make him feel like she’s trying to tie him down or suffocate him, she just wants to spend a bit more time in his presence, rather than through a phone screen. Her tone comes out dismissive, with just the tiniest hint of panic. “It’s okay if you can’t, though. Like, if you have other plans and stuff, I totally get it. Or if you just don’t want to, that’s fine, too! I just thought it’d be a fun little thing we can do since we already talk so much on the phone and everything, so I guess I just kinda figured you wouldn’t mind—”

“I get it, Y/N.” Harry interrupts Y/N’s unhinged word vomit, voice amused and nonchalant. “I think I’d like that, yeah.”

Y/N blinks in giddy surprise. “Really?”

“Well, don’t sound so shocked.” Harry laughs lightly, fingers toying with the pearls laying across his clavicle. “The sex is pretty fucking good and I’m more than happy to have it at my disposal.”

“Right.” Y/N gives him a deadpan look, shaking her head at his bluntness, reaching forward to fiddle with the chain of his cross necklace for the sake of having something to distract her from smiling like a fool. “Great, then. I have some old boxers that I know will probably fit you and an unopened pack of toothbrushes under the sink, so I think you’re set.”

Harry’s lips purse at the mention of the men’s underwear, brows creasing a tad. “You just casually have men’s boxers laying around?”

“They were my ex’s and I kept them out of spite. But don’t tell anyone, I don’t wanna get locked up for robbery.”

The tightness in his chest— which he hadn’t even realized had formed— melts away. “My lips are sealed.”

“Good, or else I’d have to kill you.” The girl states darkly, a theatrical seriousness to her appearance.

“Oh no.” Harry wails sarcastically, knotting a fist into her oversized tee and pulling her closer, connecting their lips and grinning into the kiss. “I’m shaking in fear.”

Y/N gives in without much of a fight, hands still clinging to his forearms, a smile of her own creeping across her cheeks. “Asshole.”

“The only thing I’m relatively afraid of is my dick falling off. You have the sexual drive of a rabbit.”

“Oh, like you’re any better?”

“I’m innocent in all this! You’re usually the one instigating. I’m just a mere pawn— a poor, unsuspecting nun led astray.”

“God, I can’t believe I let you fuck me.”

///

The following weekend, Harry officially invites Y/N over to his house.

It had been talked about in passing a while back, and he figures it's only fair considering all the time they’ve ever spent together has been solely at her place. Plus, he could tell she was curious to see what his living situation is like, which is valid. You can tell a lot about people through their home, and when you’re sleeping with someone on the regular, you want to learn as much about them as possible. It’s important to know who you’re getting into bed with. Literally.

Harry’s proud of his condo. He keeps it clean, he keeps it organized, and he keeps it styled in a manner that combines his Victorian gothic roots with modern day aesthetics. The floorboards of the apartment are made of waxed light-wash wood, most of the expanse of his living room covered in a furry dark grey rug. The lightness of the ground is contrasted by the matte mahogany walls, of which the largest is covered in Harry’s collection of first edition artwork. He had picked out every single piece himself throughout the span of the last two centuries, ranging from modern digital technique canvases to nineteenth century oil paintings, all arranged in neat alternating rows from oldest to newest. He can’t help that he’s such a stickler; his mom had raised him so.

Though his art wall is his pride and joy, the glass wall that overlooks the city skyline comes in at a close second. Harry loves the city, despite the fact that he was born in a seemingly irrelevant town whose only redeeming quality was the bustling public market. Urban regions are just full of so much life, excitement, and potential, which are all concepts he never really got to explore before he transitioned. Cities represent everything he wanted as a young man, when he thought he had prosperous years ahead of him and an entire life left to build; they represent diversity, unique experiences, and endless possibilities. When that was stripped from him, he began to bounce around different countries and cities all over the world, seeking a place that would fill the hole his dreams had left behind. Los Angeles fit that space like a puzzle piece.

That glorified window just means more to him than anyone could possibly know. Sometimes at night, he’ll just stand by it with his arms relaxed across his chest, watching the city gleam and glitter as individuals from all different backgrounds go about their business, blissfully ignorant to the beautiful concept that they all contribute to something much bigger— a concept that only centuries of wisdom could reveal. When he’s not wracked with jealousy and spite, looking out that window and witnessing the world change and evolve is therapeutic, in a way. It allows Harry to live vicariously through others who get to have what he never did.

Aside from his art collection and the glass wall, the chandeliers that hang from his cavernous ceiling are third on his list of treasured possessions. They’re special and no one on this earth owns anything like them; Harry made sure of that. They were created by a Swedish interior designer Harry commissioned about ten years ago, so they are custom-made in every aspect of the term. They took months to construct and finalize, which is hardly difficult to believe, given their grandeur. Each chandelier is made of two extensive layers of delicate golden chains, all arranged around a wire center, connected by light bulbs at each peak. It gives his home a chic, avant-garde atmosphere that mirrors his personality down to the last chain link.

The rest of his flat is tailored to compliment these three major determining factors. The wood paneling all around his apartment is carved with intricate, loopy designs, his two rounded coffee tables are made of the same marble that resides across his kitchen counters, and his kitchen sits directly under the second story ledge with elongated fluorescent poles embedded into the room’s ceiling, eloquently highlighting the creme walls and polished detailings of all his appliances. His sectional couches are made of an off-brown leather, covered in large rectangular couch cushions with a checkered print embroidered across the pillow cases, and weighted fleece blankets litter some areas of the elegant sofas. A wide staircase leads up to the second floor, made of grey glass steps and metal railings.

The top story of his condo is less Victorian era, more modern composition. The ground is dark maroon carpeting, and the ledge leads to one singular corridor that splits into two seperate rooms at either ends. One is the master bedroom, and the other is an accompanying bedroom which he uses for storage. His room isn’t anything extravagant, per se. It’s big, but his decor is minimalistic, covered in all different muted shades of blacks and greys, from the comforter on his king-sized bed to the tall dresser. A fifty inch flat-screen is mounted on the wall, but he hardly uses it since the one in his living room is larger; it’s only really there as an ornament. Starburst lights hang from his ceiling— smaller, downplayed versions of his chandeliers— and his walk-in closet stands parallel to the entrance of his bathroom.

The humongous bathroom was meant for two people, pretty obvious in the double-sink set up, but he doesn’t dwell on it much. He isn’t one for dating, and he’s just happy to have that luxury because it comes in handy the morning after one night stands. He has a jacuzzi-like bathtub, lined with water jets and all, and a big walk-in shower with a large overhead panel instead of a regular showerhead. The whole room is made of dark marble and porcelain, and he couldn’t possibly adore it more. Some of his best experiences had happened in this room, explicit and otherwise.

In the end, Harry has every right to be arrogantly proud of his apartment. It had taken him months to decorate, years to fill with fond memories, and an immortal lifetime to find. He loves it with every trace of his soul, even when others disagree. Namely, Niall, who had mocked his sophisticated relics and old-timey architecture from the first time he’d set foot past the threshold; “You went the dark gothic route? Really? Way to feed into the stereotype, Dracula.”

But no matter what anyone says, this is who he is, and he couldn’t be happier. After decades of migrating and aimlessly searching the globe, he’d finally found a place he could call home, and absolutely no one could take that from him. Especially not some Irish moron who doesn’t even know the definition of “foyer.”

How Harry manages to afford his flat is a whole other intriguing tale.

It had come up in a pillow talk conversation with Y/N once, and he had told her the story he feeds to any human who asks. He’s a regional manager for an offshore company and it’s mainly a lot of online work. Handling duties through business emails, videochat meetings, job portals, and things of the such. It paints a valid image as to why he’s home all the time. He also claims to be the company’s lone contact stationed in California, so he handles all of the responsibilities that would normally be bestowed upon three or four people. This paints a valid explanation as to how his imaginary position would tether such a high pay grade, which justifies his luxurious living arrangement.

That story is part of the truth. Harry does indeed have ties with corporate businesses. That is, ties to their CEOs’ pockets. It’s surprisingly easy to get past secretaries and security dressed in a nice suit and thousand dollar leather shoes, especially with the help of compulsion and Harry’s golden charisma. Thanks to those tools, he has managed to convince some of the biggest leaders in corporate California to quietly deposit generous sums of money into his bank account once a month. And with his persuasive supernatural abilities, he convinces them to write it off as regularly scheduled charity donations in their minds. That’s how he makes a living for himself— by scamming the rich. Xander likes to take the piss and call him a sugar baby, but Harry sees himself as more of a modern day Robin Hood, instead.

Mitch says his charade is unlawful, but considering how corrupt the business world already is, the vampire feels next to no guilt. The one percent have always taken advantage of those poorer than them— that was obvious even back in Harry’s time— and he doesn’t see anything wrong with taking advantage of them right back, now that he has the means to. How’s that saying go? “Fuck the bourgeoisie” and all that.

Everything taken into consideration, Harry’s pretty excited to show Y/N his condo. Watching people’s faces break into awe the second he turns the lights on always gives him such a deep surge of satisfaction. It makes all the hassle worth it.

The immortal is currently sitting in his vintage car, flicking through his Spotify playlist to find something to entertain him while he waits for Y/N to finish her shift. He had offered to pick her up, knowing that it’s what any courteous host would do, and she had appreciatively accepted, telling him she’d be out by eight P.M. It’s seven fifty-three now and Harry had arrived around seven fifty, taking the slot right in front of the cafe’s entrance so she can spot him as soon as she walks out. These ten minutes are the longest he’s ever had to endure, which says a lot considering he’s endured tons of patience-testing moments in his two hundred years.

Harry swipes his thumb down the glass screen of his phone, sampling songs left and right to see what will stick. After listening to the first few chords of an array of forties dance music, seventies rock and roll, and twenty-first century bubblegum pop, he settles for Rodeo by Lil Nas X. Harry has a very intricate taste in music— it’s one of the traits he’s most proud of— and Mitch often tells him he’s too snotty when it comes to his preferences. He’ll admit it freely that, yes, he can be a piece of work musically, but just because he thinks the industry peaked in the seventies doesn’t mean he hates modern music. He likes most of it, including rap, and Lil Nas X happens to be one of his favorites, much to everyone’s surprise. Most of the artist’s songs are eccentric not only lyrically but also instrumentally, to the point where it’s almost comical— who names a song Panini, of all things?— but the music is catchy and Harry can let loose to it easily.

The vampire also happened to meet the musician, on one occasion. He ran into him at a club and after a few drinks and some banter, somehow ended up getting invited over to a party at the celebrity’s Malibu mansion. That night is a blur, definitely due to the copious amounts of alcohol and psychedelics, but Harry remembers they had fun and that the guy was worth a listen. In fact, he was the genius that came up with the theme for the rapper’s Rodeo music video.

A light knocking on the passenger’s seat window brings him out of his memories. Y/N stands outside, hugging her arms loosely over her tummy, decked in her usual work uniform of a navy polo and black skinny jeans. When the two lock eye contact, she gives him a soft wave and a tired smile. Harry lifts two fingers in greeting, returning her polite gesture and swiftly lowering the window. He leans forward across the center console, his grin taking on a playful hue, voice carrying the same effect.

“Uber for Y/N?”

The girl snorts and rolls her eyes, but plays along, reaching forward and jiggling the handle of his black Cadillac symbolically. “That’s me, yes. Open up.”

“Eh, eh, eh.” Harry tuts, wagging a finger in her direction and then making a motion that tells her to back away. “I’m gonna have to see some ID. It’s one of our new safe driver policies. Gotta make sure you are who you say you are, miss.”

Y/N’s expression drops flatly, eyes half-lidded as he smiles up at her brightly, batting his eyelashes innocently. “Open the door before you end up sucking your own dick tonight.”

Harry’s shit-eating face falls so fast, it causes her to burst into laughter. A soft click vibrates through the handle below her fingers. “I’ll waive the background check. Just this once.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Y/N taunts, yanking the door open and ducking into the shotgun seat, gently tugging it closed behind her.

Once the human is situated in her spot, she releases a lengthy sigh, sinking down against the cushions as she grabs her seat belt and clicks it into place.

Harry puts his cell phone down into the cubby hole below the stereo set, setting the car in reverse and slinging an arm behind her headrest to get a better view as he backs out of the parking space. His gaze momentarily flickers to her slumped form as the car retreats slowly, tone curious. “Long day?”

Y/N glimpses over, giving him a quick once-over and taking in his olive green Nike jumper, ripped denim boyfriend jeans, and pastel yellow Vans. He looks so boyishly cute, which is ironic given the premise of tonight’s rendezvous. The shoes (which he had worn the night they’d met all those weeks ago) and the position he’s in (perched above her with his sharp jaw and neck flexing as he cranes his torso to look for oncoming traffic) flashes her back to the first time she had been in his car. They had been way less acquainted, she had been much less relaxed, much more nervous, but the encounter very much carried the same exact intentions. That recollection makes her lips quirk a bit. The pair had grown so comfortable with each other since then, that Friday evening feels like it happened decades ago.

“Yeah.” Y/N murmurs softly, gladly indulging a deep inhale of the vanilla and tobacco scent she had become familiar with, allowing it to soothe her nerves and wash away the stress of a hard day. “I’m just happy it’s over and that the weekend’s finally started. Wanna forget all about it.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for, love!” Harry plops back into his seat, shifting his car into drive and gifting her his famous brilliant smile, dimples winking to life as he taps his ringed fingers across his steering wheel humorously. “I’ve made you forget your name plenty of times before; I’m pretty sure I can erase one shitty work shift just fine.”

Y/N scoffs at his pompous claim, reaching up and prying the hair tie out of her locks, looping it over her wrist and shushing her stiff roots. She tucks strands behind her ears, the corners of her mouth twitching in endearment at the giddiness of his aura. “Just drive, Sherlock.”

The mortal isn’t surprised to find that building in which the vampire lives is one of the tallest in the city, and that it’s basically smack in the center, as well. One look at Harry and anybody could immediately tell he thrives off being the center of attention, so of course his home is a direct reflection of that. Refined boy, refined personality, refined environment. It’s practically a law of science.

Once Harry’s car is parked and the ignition rumbles to a smooth stop, Y/N unbuckles her seat belt and goes to unlock the passenger’s side door. Right as her hand is wrapping around the handle bar, the door swings open of its own accord and she just barely manages to stifle a blood-curdling scream full of shocked fear. When her eyes focus, Harry is standing there holding the door open for her, features painted with cocky amusement.

“How did you—?” The girl whips around to look at the empty driver’s seat, eyebrows cinching in bewilderment as she turns back to face him. “How did you get around so fast?”

Harry shrugs his shoulders offhandedly, reaching one bejeweled hand down to aid her out of the vehicle. “I did track when I was younger. Made me a fast walker.”

Y/N hesitantly takes it, body language still slightly tense from the jump scare. With his help, she gradually climbs out, the door shutting behind her as she sweeps her sight around the parking garage in wonder. This is the first time Harry has ever invited her anywhere, let alone to where he spends most of his life. She doesn’t want to miss a thing. Even the simplest aspect can tell you a lot about a person.

Y/N jerks a tad when she feels her friend’s cold fingers slipping down her palm, sifting between her own. She glances down at their intertwined hands for a second, a warm glow bursting through her chest. She’s always admired how his are so much bigger.

Harry tugs her forward toward the elevator at the other end of the parking lot, bottom lip caught between his teeth in a sly smirk. “C’mon, Watson. Let me show you around.”

Y/N stumbles after him, allowing the boy to guide her to where she needs to go as he weeds through cars effortlessly. She suddenly chimes up from behind, asking a random question to fill the leftover silence their footsteps spare. “That car next to yours had such a weird license plate. What the fuck does ‘craic’ mean?”

Harry chuckles knowingly, perfectly aware of whose car she is referring to. “It’s this odd thing Irish people say. Utter rubbish, honestly.”

A comfortable quietness fills the air of the elegant elevator as it shoots up towards the twenty-fourth floor of the skyscraper, the only other sound being the gentle lullaby of a nameless tune wafting through the speakers above their heads. Harry finds himself studying Y/N as she looks out at the city through the glass walls, the lights of the exterior buildings casting a beautiful buttery gleam across her relaxed characteristics, along with a radiant glint over the surface of her glossy eyes. Despite the slightly smeared mascara staining her waterline and the inherent frizziness her hair carries after being pulled into a tight ponytail all day, Harry finds that she looks nice. Pretty, even.

The girl senses him staring, craning her head to return his gaze, the edges of her lips lilting upwards lightheartedly. He returns the gesture, peeling away to focus on something— anything— else. He deems the control panel a worthy replacement.

As the numbers on the dial drag by, Harry finds himself absentmindedly thumbing over Y/N’s knuckles. She doesn’t seem to notice or mind, so he continues doing it, massaging the crest of each bump and pressing down gently along the troughs. He enjoys the sensation of her silky warm skin heating his icy own, and he ponders whether she likes how cold his touch is, or if she hates it as much as he does. He expels that notion from his mind; he refuses to let such a stupid concept upset him. He just keeps caressing her hand, restraining his mind from ambling too far into its meaning. It’s just to pass the time.

He keeps the movements going until their ride skates to a joltless halt with a sharp ding! and then he steps out, having to give his full attention to leading her down the long corridor to his flat. Y/N is so caught up in drinking up her surroundings, she almost bumps into the creature when he comes to an abrupt stop in front of the entrance of what she can only deduce is his home. Harry drops her hand, much to her disappointment, fishing into his back pocket for his keys. He patiently filters through his keychain, picking out the right one and working it into the lock, a soft click emitting from the mechanism.

Harry pushes the door open with his palm, standing off to the side just outside the threshold and tilting his head towards it, posture bowing slightly. “Ladies first.”

Y/N thanks him quietly, taking a cautious step forward into his hallway. She can’t help the way her heart skips a beat at his gentlemanly tendencies; she rarely meets anyone as respectful as Harry seems to be and she finds his old-timey attributes to be refreshing. Helping her out the car, taking her hand to guide her through the parking lot, rubbing at her knuckles innocently, holding the door open for her— it’s all such an archaic form of chivalry she wishes she’d see more often these days. She doesn’t know if it’s a British thing, if he had just been raised like that, or if he simply does it to get laid, but she’s thankful for it either way.

With one last glance at her friend over her shoulder, she begins wandering down the dark narrow path unsurely. The sound of the door slinking shut behind her and Harry’s footsteps ease her.

She stops once she senses the corridor open up into a larger space, which she guesses is his living room. A soft gasp escapes her at the sight before her. The whole area is washed in darkness, the only source of light stemming from the large glass pane that stretches from the floor of the apartment to its tall ceiling. Dozens of buildings and cars glimmer below, the breath-taking image of the lively city looking almost like a snapshot from a professional movie. It’s absolutely gorgeous and she feels like she could stare at it for eons.

A chilly hand suddenly presses along the dip of her spine, ushering her forward an inch or two, Harry’s invisible voice and warm breath hitting the shell of her left ear. “S’cuse me, dove.”

The boy reaches behind her for the light switch and the condo bursts into radiance with one simple flick of his wrist.

“Oh...my God.”

Harry’s home is something straight out of a luxury catalogue. The light floorboards and the mahogany panels. The massive leather couches and hand-sewn cushions. The extravagant chandeliers and glass staircase. The marble kitchen and generously packed liquor shelves. The ginormous wall of priceless artwork, littered with pieces from all different eras of history. It feels like stepping into a decor wonderland.

“Not too bad, huh?” Harry pipes up playfully, anchoring her back into reality from the floaty stupor that had consumed her mind.

“Not too—? Are you kidding?” Y/N sputters incredulously, whizzing her head to the side sharply. “You were keeping an entire Four Seasons royal suite from me?!”

Harry belts out a bundle of childish giggles, the edges of his eyes crinkling and the tip of his button nose twitching. “I never thought of it much, to be honest. I’d grown to like your place.”

“Right. Because a creaky mattress and a kitchen the size of a broom closet is so much more satisfying than chandeliers and a fucking glass wall.”

The vampire glimpses around his flat indicatively. “Okay, I see your point.”

“Exactly.”

Y/N drifts forward, running the tips of her fingers across the backrest of the aged leather sofa and along the corners of the throw pillow, doing a slow circle at the middle of his home, taking everything in a second time around to make sure it isn’t a mirage. “Fuck, this is incredible. Is your boss looking for any more regional managers, by any chance?”

Harry follows after her, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his boyfriend jeans, chewing along the inside of his cheek to suppress a proud smile— a result of her explosive reaction. “I’m afraid my position is the one and only, sorry.”

Y/N droops her shoulders in exaggerated contempt, presenting a shitty English accent to tease him. “Bollocks.”

It garners the designated feedback, her tummy somersaulting at Harry’s exorbitant laughter.

The boy comes to stand before her, cocking his head to the side questioningly towards his kitchen. “Can I offer you a drink?”

Y/N glimpses over at his bar area, eyes dancing over his extensive array of fancy bottles. “Oh, please do.”

Despite only having known Y/N for a few weeks, Harry has gotten quite acquainted with her tastes, even outside of sexual matters. She doesn't like the taste of alcohol, but she likes its effects. And he likes them, too, if he’s being honest. Her blood always begins to smell more appetizing after just a few sips and the way her cheeks heat up so easily when she’s buzzed always makes his breathing trip.

He works his extensive skills, pulling from his liquor cabinet and mixing flavored liquids and syrups until he comes up with something that he thinks the girl will enjoy. It’s fruity, with hints of peach, lime, and strawberry, but also warm and fulfilling, with a rich whiskey and a few dashes of bitters. He plunks in a couple of ice cubes and mixes it together with a bar spoon, tapping it against the rim with finality and swiping it over his tongue in a quick taste test. He’s pretty happy with his concoction.

Harry glances up to where Y/N is leaning against the armrest of his couch, her legs crossed before her as she stares at one of the abstract paintings mounted on his wall. It’s an original, as are the rest of them, which he had purchased some odd seventy years ago from a barely known artist whose talent had gone to waste in the world. It’s a deconstructed sunflower, with the color palette inverted and the strokes of the brush uneven and jagged. Odd and complicated, but beautiful, nonetheless. Its complexity is what makes it significant.

The vampire slowly wanders over from his kitchen, holding her drink in one hand and a cloth napkin in the other. He takes the spot beside her along the armrest, speaking wistfully as if recalling a fond memory. “It’s a flower.”

Y/N nods slowly in recognition, peeling her gaze away with the corners of her lips jilting. “Mmhm, a sunflower.”

Harry’s brows jump in shock. Barely anyone ever guesses the identity correctly. He’s found that as time passes and humanity becomes more reliant on technology rather than cognizant knowledge, society in general has reduced to a more pea-brained state than ever. As a result, the amount of people who can interpret and understand the meaning behind complex artwork has greatly diminished, unfortunately, so he’s pleasantly surprised to find that one of the few who still possesses that talent happens to be the girl he’s shagging. “Wow, that’s a first. It’s so unusual, no one ever really gets it.”

“I guess I just have an affinity for the unusual.” His guest quips, giving him a jesting shrug of her eyebrows and a suggestive grin.

You have no idea.

“You underestimated me, Holmes.”

“That I did. My sincerest apologies.” Harry returns her joking simper, proceeding to then dip an index finger inside the stout glass in his grasp, bringing it up before her face. “Taste.”

Without breaking eye contact, Y/N parts her lips and allows him to coax the wet digit in, the tangy flavor of the mixture making her taste buds tingle. She encloses her mouth around his finger, lulling her tongue along it slowly with a mischievous glint shining across her irises.

Harry’s prominent jaw clenches as he watches the scene unfold, breath bated and a moan threatening to betray him. She truly wastes no time.

He gradually pulls his finger from her tongue, struggling to clear his throat, missing its texture already. “How is it? More syrup? More biters?”

Y/N gazes up at him drunkenly, though it’s definitely not from the liquor. Her lips quirk cheekily as a result of how visibly frazzled she’d gotten him. “It’s perfect. Better than anything I’ve had at a club, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah?” Harry taps his opal ring against the bottom of the lowball glass, trying to reign in his previous composure. “Think I could be a bartender?”

“You don’t hit me as the type of person who has the patience for it.” The girl remarks wittily, slinking her head to the side and biting back a giggle when Harry makes a face at her.

“You make a valid point, I suppose.” The vampire responds with an airy sigh, nodding in surrender. “The stupid blabbing from drunk morons and impending fear of being vomited on would be too much for me. I wouldn’t last a day.”

“You wouldn’t last a single night, let alone a whole day.”

“Alright, pipe down!” Harry deadpans, bumping her shoulder with his vengefully. “You’re bruising my ego.”

“It’s humongous,” Y/N snorts, shoving him in return, “it can take a few hits.”

The pair sit there in silence for a suspended moment, just taking in the expanse of the art before them. Harry then turns his torso towards her once more, bringing the drink in his grip up to her mouth. “Here, have a proper sip. Put my all into it.”

Y/N obliges, looking up at him with her signature doe-like air of trusting innocence, allowing him to tip the hem of the cup against her mouth. The cool beverage filters through her taste buds and down her throat, the sweet and sour mixture leaving an enjoyable tingle in its wake. A few streams of the liquid bead out of the corners of her lips and Harry impulsively gathers them with the side of his index finger, the napkin in his other hand completely forgotten.

As he goes to pull back in order to clean up, Y/N leans forward and traps his digit between her lips like before. This time, there’s a more insistent sultry hint sparkling around her pupils.

“Christ...” Harry pants, watching Y/N work her way down his forefinger with a silent groan hinging on his teeth.

He doesn’t deny himself from indulging the dirty action this time around. Her mouth is as soft and warm as ever, sending chills racing down his spine despite the sweater hugging his body. His mind slips for a second, reminiscing in all the other ways he’s felt the inside of her mouth before, a faint red tinge splattering across his cheekbones.

Y/N draws his finger out, kissing messily across its length and over the pad, looking up at him through tension-heavied lashes. She doesn't speak a word, but her intentions are clear in the electricity between them.

He can’t hold back any longer, his next comment coming out as a pained growl. “God, you’re such a filthy little thing.”

She hums softly in the back of her throat at his explicit compliment, suckling at the center of her bottom lip needily. “I like being your filthy little thing.”

Harry swallows thickly in order to keep himself somewhat tame, fangs suddenly pricking his tongue in warning.

The mortal scoots closer to him, sifting her fingers between his around the drink and bringing it upwards, downing the last couple of inches in one go. She draws the cup from his grasp, reaching over to set it down carefully on the coffee table before turning back and snuggling deeper into his heaving chest.

Harry scoffs in amusement, but he can feel a certain charring scratching at the back of his throat. “Drinks like that are meant to be savored, darling. You’re not supposed to just pound them.”

Y/N stretches her neck upwards, taking his earlobe between her teeth, lips wet and cold from the alcohol. His lashes flutter when her warm breath hits his skin, contradicting the sensations from before.

“Why don’t you let me worry about how I drink, and you can worry about a different kind of pounding.”

And that’s all it takes, really. That’s all it takes for Harry to completely drop any self-control he has left.

The creature jars his face towards her, large hand shooting upwards to grip her jaw firmly, holding her in place as he crashes their mouths together. It’s all tongue and clacking teeth, desperate whines and stuttered gasps. Y/N’s hands fumble for something to tether to while Harry takes it upon himself to grasp at her opposite hip with his free hand, yanking her onto his lap. She buries her fists in the cotton fabric of his jumper, balancing her knees on either sides of his parted thighs. The boy’s fingers coast from her jaw down to her throat, tightening ever so slightly. The action is minimal, but it reveals that flare of dominance Y/N has become addicted to.

“Do you want it here?” Harry rasps against her eager tongue, smirking into the kiss when he feels her start to rock along the bulge that is beginning to tent his denim pants. “Do you want me to bend you over the couch and fuck you, baby? With the chandelier making your skin glow? Where we can put on a show for the whole city to see?”

It’s a tempting offer and his words obviously have some form of impact, seen in the way Y/N’s grinding takes on a hungrier, deeper pace against his clothed cock.

“I want…” Y/N finds it difficult to voice her desires, the responsible party being the manner in which Harry glues cracked mewls onto the roof of her mouth. “I want it in your bed.”

She doesn’t know why, but she just wants him to take her some place where the moment they share is intimate, unseen by the prying eyes of others. She wants to christen his bed exactly how he had done hers; she craves that strange connection, for some reason. Y/N isn’t naive, she knows she’s not the only person Harry has had in his home and in his sheets. But she wants that experience, nonetheless, even if it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. She knows she’s not his only, but at least she’s one.

Harry slowly breaks their kiss, brushing the tip of his nose across her own in a small comforting gesture. He blinks at her groggily, the copper specks in his eyes glitzing under the golden hue of the lighting. When he speaks, its soft and low, almost as if he doesn’t want to risk another soul overhearing. “Okay. Whatever you want, it’s yours.”

Y/N almost doesn’t get anything she wants, given that she nearly kills herself on the trek up the stairs, courtesy of her weakened knees and wobbly ankles. Harry just barely manages to save her, but he finds the occurrence too hilarious to spare her the embarrassment.

“Stop laughing, it’s not funny!” She exclaims indignantly as he helps her up the last few glass steps, clinging to him like a scared puppy, her hands still shaking with adrenaline. “I could have died!”

Her shrieking only makes him laugh harder and he nearly keels over, palm clutching his stomach as if to keep it from popping. “I’m sorry, I really am, but it’s just— your face when you— and how you tripped sideways— I—”

Y/N shoves him hard towards the corridor where his bedroom lies, but it’s hard to maintain an angry demeanor when the young man’s giggles sound like bells and when he looks so cute with his curls flopping across his forehead. “Dickhead.”

They’re almost at his bedroom door when Harry grabs onto her wrist, tugging her roughly so that she lurches forward into his chest. He plants a wet kiss onto the bridge of her nose, expression entertained. “Stop being such a bad sport. It was pretty funny.”

“Yeah, okay.” She huffs begrudgingly, glancing down impatiently at his plump lips as he walks backwards down the hallway with her in tow. “You can invalidate my rage once you have a near death experience yourself.”

The irony of it all.

Harry kicks the door open, ghosting his mouth over Y/N’s and watching her sight do a quick sweep around the area. “Welcome to my lair.”

The human likes his aesthetic. The room has different hues of the same color, so it all ties together nicely, and the hanging lights look like miniature versions of the two large ones downstairs. The bed is huge, which is a relief because for once, they won’t have to actively worry about accidentally rolling off the edge mid-fuck. “It’s nice. Very chic.”

“Thanks.” Harry reaches up and cups either side of her neck with his palms, dragging his damp lips over her chin and down the center of her jugular, smiling against her skin when he feels her shiver. “It doesn't have a bookshelf wall like yours, but I make due.”

“Yeah.” Y/N wisps out weakly, leaning her head back as he speckles his mouth across that sensitive point on her throat he discovered ages ago. “I bet.”

She feels Harry’s touch travel down her torso, cold fingers suddenly smearing across her love handles beneath her work shirt. His grip tightens at the hem with the intention of pulling the polo off, breath hot as it washes over her collarbones. “Wanna find out just how good I make it work?”

Y/N’s arms instinctively raise on command, her reply shaky and fragile. “Yes, please.”

Harry makes it work. He makes it work so fucking well. He doesn’t need crazy positions or any vibrating toys to make her feel good; he just knows her so thoroughly by now that he’s able to tend to every single one of her needs like it’s his sole purpose. The sex is missionary, with her splayed out across her back upon his mound of feathered pillows, her thighs clamped over his hips as he slams into her at a harsh, curt pace. Her calves are tied around the backs of his thighs, her nails are carving memories into the broad expanse of his shoulders, they’re both panting curse words and encouragement into each other’s mouths, and he’s cradling her to his chest as if he wants to absorb her heartbeat right through her ribs. If only obtaining one were that easy.

Y/N allows her head to fall back against the cushions, drawing away from the prolonged kiss only because she needs air to continue. Harry’s lips busy themselves elsewhere, running down the valley of her chest and toying with one of her pebbled nipples. Y/N’s back gives a sharp arch the second he brushes across the sensitive nub and the taunting coo he releases goes straight to her core.

“Liked that, darling? Like it when I kiss you there?”

The girl’s lashes have fallen shut, her eyes lulling around in their sockets as he maintains a steady rhythm between her thighs, ramming into her with so much force, the headboard is knocking into the wall. It’s loud and intense enough that Harry has to fit one of his palms between the railings, bracing the weight of the bed in order to prevent a hole from forming.

Y/N’s voice fills the dense atmosphere, so shattered and raw, she can hardly understand herself. “It feels so— so good, H.”

“I love it when you call me that. Sounds so pretty coming from your lips.” The vampire’s tongue flicks over her nipple a handful of times, dark veins momentarily webbing over the whites of his eyes at the cracked whimper she lets loose. “And of course it feels good. I always make you feel good, don’t I? Always make my girl cum so—fucking—hard.”

Y/N’s trembling fingers card into the curls along the nape of Harry’s neck as he thrusts to his words, twisting them around her knuckles and swimming in the throaty groan he pours over the clammy skin of her breasts. Her whisper sounds distant and dreamy. “Please...Please don’t stop.”

Harry gazes up at her through heavy lashes, lapping at her chest more fervently, accent thick and deep. “I won’t, baby. Not until I have you dripping all over my sheets.”

After a few more minutes of fractured moans bouncing around the panels of the room and the noise of wet skin slapping together, something catches Y/N’s bleary eyes. She wills past the blissful fog in her mind, focusing on the intriguing object hanging from one of the railings of Harry’s bedpost, swaying back and forth wildly due to his strong tempo.

“Are those...Are those handcuffs?”

Harry’s attention jumps to where hers is pinned, his powerful stride coming to a gradual stop. He’s heaving and shuddering above her, ringlets matted to his jaw and across his temples, cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of cherry red. His Adam’s Apple bobs once and he gives a short nod. “Y-Yeah. I’ve had them for a while...”

The hope dripping from his voice is practically palpable and Y/N interprets it easily. She glances down at him as he takes quivering inhales against her chest, his eyes bleeding lust. Her mumble is so quiet and soft, he wonders how it’s possible for her to make some of the preposterously loud sounds he’s used to hearing whenever he’s buried this deep. “Use them on me. Please?”

Harry bends to her request without hesitation. He locks her wrists into the restraints, sponging a kiss onto each before giving them one hard tug to check for security. He then regains his rough slams, but with more fervor than before.

The monster sits back onto his heels, groping her waist roughly and working her against his thighs, watching welts form on her flesh along the pads of his fingers. Y/N unconsciously begins circling her hips to match his speed and the fractured groan that rips out of him makes her walls tighten. He looks incredible looming in front of her, head toppled back between his shoulder blades, bouncing to his every ram. His throat flexes with the weight, jaw taut and inked pectorals glistening with sweat under the dim lights dangling from his ceiling. “That’s it, pet, just like that. Love the way you ride it. You’re so fucking tight and warm and...and just— Christ, just fuck me.”

She wishes she could frame this moment in time and drag it out forever.

Harry swings his head forward again, blinking the blurriness from his vision to take in the image before him. Y/N just looks so fucking gorgeous like that, tied down at his beck and call, her chest bouncing pertly as her fingers bunch around the chain link, thighs clinging to his waist as she chews her bottom lip raw in an attempt to control her noises.

The vampire ducks down, connecting their mouths in a sloppy kiss that cajoles her into spilling all the moans she had been withholding. He feels them trickle down his lungs and diffuse into his bones, flames lapping across his insides as their foreheads bump and noses smudge, ragged breaths intermingling. “Let it out for me, hm? Wanna know how I’m making you feel, don’t care who hears.”

As if that isn’t enough, there’s an instance where Harry’s animalistic senses suddenly enhance and he comes to the realization that the metal cuffs have made a tiny laceration along her skin.

A thin trail of blood travels down her suspended arm, but she doesn’t seem to notice, too lost in the pleasure Harry is pounding into the pit of her stomach. So he simply leans upwards and licks the sweet droplet clean, feeling heat spark across every fiber of his being. He laps up the entire stream and then presses a tender kiss to her palm for good measure, grunting out a gentle, “There’s a good girl.” when she whines at the affectionate gesture.

The release Harry is getting from between Y/N’s legs mixes with the ecstasy her blood brings, and it shoves him over the edge in a manner he hasn’t experienced since that first time they slept together all those weeks ago. Since the first time he tasted what lies in her veins, while also simultaneously getting to taste the indescribable relief her body so readily brings him.

After all is said and done that night, something peculiar happens. After they both milk their orgasms for everything it’s worth, and after Y/N gives into exhaustion in his arms with her wrists bruised and a content watery smile on her face, and after he gets a heftier drink from her neck and heals the two little puncture wounds with his own blood...The most bizarre, unexpected event occurs.

Harry falls asleep soundly for the first time in months, and all he dreams about is how Y/N tasted.

///

Y/N wakes up the next morning to her body covered in Harry’s Nike jumper, to an empty spot beside her in the messy duvet, to a familiar tune tinging her ears from a distance, and to a satisfying ache between her thighs.

As soon as she cracks the bedroom door open, the smell of pancakes wafts in through the chilled morning air. Specifically, lemon and blueberry pancakes. Her grandmother’s lemon and blueberry pancakes.

A shiver runs down Y/N’s spine the second she sets a toe along the cold glass panels of Harry’s staircase. She takes a deep breath, pulling the extra length of the sweater’s sleeves over her fists and tugging the hem of the article downwards as if she could convince it to cover more than just half her thighs. She carefully works her way down the steps, flinching at the iciness that travels up her legs with every motion. When she finally thunks down emptily onto the light-wash floorboards, her body has grown accustomed to the temperature. As she pads across the furry rug in Harry’s living room, she finds herself wondering why everything connected to him is always so unusually cold— colder than any normal person could withstand. His touch, his lips, the tip of his nose, his forehead, his chest, even his thighs; everything is always freezing, and she doesn’t understand how he can bear it. It’s such an odd affinity to have.

The human gradually wanders into the vampire’s kitchen, peeking inside the room from behind one of the archway’s walls. What she sees throws her for a loop.

Harry is cooking breakfast, as she expected from the sweet scent she’d awoken to, but he’s doing it in a manner she never really expected from him.

Music stems from a portable speaker he has situated at the center of the marble kitchen island, blaring loud enough to fill the entire giant home with high notes, guitar chords, and acapella riffs. The young man is dancing across his kitchen as he cooks, clad in nothing but a set of black Calvin Klein briefs and a pair of fuzzy magenta socks. Y/N rakes down his body, admiring the crimson and purple love bites she had left on his chest and the raspberry red scratches zig-zagging across his back, the marks flexing with the movements of his muscles. They’re strangely faint, for some reason. Practically barely there.

She chalks it up to the fact that maybe she hadn’t bruised him as much as she’d thought.

Y/N forces herself to keep her mind from straying onto anymore explicit topics; it’s probably not even ten A.M. yet. She needs to get herself under control.

Grooving while in the kitchen isn’t necessarily weird (she’s guilty of it herself), but Harry’s dancing techniques very much are. The only accurate depiction of it is that for a boy in his twenties, he dances like an old geezer in his eighties. His moves are choppy and old-schooled, almost like what you’d expect to see in a nineteen fifties disco hall, and watching him ebb and flow across the tiled ground to choreography similar to that of Dirty Dancing and Footloose... It would send anybody into a fit of laughter. Especially since Harry is so tall and lanky, so how he manages to move in such a way is beyond her understanding.

Aside from that, his choice of music is baffling, as well. Not only because she recognizes the soundtrack, but because she would have never expected someone like him— with his cocky behavior and overly-confident caliber— to be into these types of songs at all. She always pegged him for the seventies rock and roll type.

“You like Hamilton?”

Harry’s actions creak to a halt and he whips around towards where the disturbance had stemmed, spatula clutched in one hand and a marble plate stacked with pancakes in the other. His face breaks into a bright smile, voice slathered with dramatic friendliness. “Well, look who finally got up! I was starting to think you were dead, Sleeping Beauty.”

Y/N narrows her eyes at him mockingly, walking over to the kitchen counter and propping herself onto her elbows, chin in hand as she watches him set down the platter of food before her. She tips forward onto her toes, taking a deep inhale of the homey, sugary smell, letting it wash over her in flashes of childhood memories. “Are these like the ones I make?”

“Lemon and blueberry, yeah.” Harry bobs his head casually, turning around to place his metal spatula down into the sink, as well as to retrieve a glass bottle of maple syrup from one of his cupboards. “They’re pretty close, I think. I’ve never seen you use a recipe or measuring cups or anything when you make them, so I kinda eyeballed it to the best of my ability. Hope I did your nan justice.”

He pours a decently-sized glop of syrup over the mountain of treats and Y/N watches excitedly as it trickles down all the layers. He then pushes back from the table, pulling open a drawer and rummaging through, continuing to whistle along to the tune of Satisfied as he bops the cabinet closed with his hip and sets down an extra pair of forks and knives beside the plate.

Harry cuts a neat triangle out of the pancake at the top, pointing at her with his fork as he shrugs his brows nonchalantly. “And to answer your question from before: yes, I do like Hamilton.”

“Hm. Interesting.” Y/N murmurs, going cross-eyed as Harry offers her the forkful of food in his possession, poking at her mouth playfully and getting maple syrup all over her lips. She opens obediently, allowing him to feed her the piece. “You don’t really seem like the type of guy— oh, wow, these are actually really good!”

Harry bites into his lower lip with his two front teeth, a proud smile dimpling his cheeks as the light draft from the air vent ruffles a couple of his sex-mussed ringlets across his forehead. “Yeah? You mean it?”

The mortal nods her head vigorously as she finishes chewing and swallowing, wiping away some of the leftover syrup from her top lip with her middle finger and sucking it clean. “Yeah! You hit it spot on.”

“Aces. I should be on The Great British Bake Off.” Harry makes a small, celebratory fist bump next to his hip and the childish gesture makes Y/N snort softly.

“Like I was saying, you don’t really strike me as the type of guy who would be into musicals.” The girl comments, watching her friend cut another triangle out of the first pancake and pop it into his own mouth.

The vampire chews thoughtfully for a second, lifting one shoulder offhandedly and swallowing fully before talking. “I’m really not, to be honest. But this specific musical is pretty good. The songs are catchy.”

He nudges the other pair of utensils across the counter for emphasis, silently inviting her to dig into the dish along with him. She accepts, slicing down the other side of the stack as he leans forward onto his elbows, mimicking her stance. He gives her a curious glance. “What about you? Do you like musicals?”

Y/N shrugs, poking a few chunks of food onto her fork. “Not really, but I had a major Hamilton phase back in college. That’s why I recognized it.”

Harry hums in understanding, picking a blueberry off and chewing it slowly, a sly smirk beginning to tweak the corners of his mouth. “So were you, like, a nerd back then?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say a nerd, but I had decent grades and was pretty quiet.”

He swallows down audibly, blinking impassively. “That’s literally the definition of a nerd.”

Y/N returns his flat expression. “Fuck off.”

Harry throws his palms up in peaceful surrender, but he still has that shit-eating grin present. “Alright, fine, fine...It’s okay if you were, though. You were probably one of those cute ones, y’know? With the clunky glasses and innocent goody-goody face.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, and with one of those short little plaid skirts?” He releases a pained groan, clutching his chest and closing his eyes for a second. She has no doubt he’s sketching some type of graphic image of her in his mind. “God, I bet you looked so good. Do you still have it? Can you wear it for me?”

“I said shut up!” Y/N reaches forward and stabs at his tummy lightly with her fork, ignoring the warmth crawling up her neck and across her cheeks. “Fucking perv.”

Harry smacks her utensil away with his own, giggling lightly as she tries to prick him again, continuing to fight her off. “I’m just asking a question! For science!”

Y/N twists her fork around his, trying to outmaneuver him into dropping it. “How could my fashion sense in college possibly contribute to science in any way?”

The vampire easily catches onto her play, slipping himself out of her grasp and trying to trap her makeshift sword down against the tabletop. He purses his lips into a simper, glimpsing up at her through his lashes and quirking his brows cheekily. “Biologically, of course. It contributes to my solo reproductive activities.”

“You are vile.”

“Really? ‘Cause you seemed pretty happy to help with said activities last night.”

Y/N drops her fork onto the brim of the platter, reaching up to massage at her temples and keep herself from swatting Harry’s eyeballs out of their sockets. “I’m finished.”

“Yeah,” the jade of his irises glimmers coyly as he sets down his utensil beside hers in a ceasefire, “you definitely finished.”

Harry chuckles boyishly as Y/N drags her palms down her face, trying to hide away how flustered he’s getting her. She decides to change the subject, not caring to steer the conversation smoothly at all, but rather jumping to another topic right away. “So does this mean you have all the lyrics memorized? Since you like them so much?”

“I do, yeah.” Harry taps his fingers against the marble counter to the beat of the song currently playing. “Do you?”

“I was obsessed, so of course I do.” Y/N reasons, her own digits following in tune with the immortal’s. “I think Non-Stop was probably my favorite to sing. It made for a good shower concert.”

“Well, it’s settled then.” Harry quips happily, reaching for his phone and tapping across the screen. “We’re duetting this. Right now. C’mon, Burr.”

Y/N’s motions stop, shyness creeping in from the back of her brain. “Oh, I don’t know, Harry. I never really—”

Her refusal is interrupted by the beginning of the arrangement mentioned, the notes blasting through the speaker as Harry purposefully turns up the volume to drown her out. He taps at his ear symbolically, mouthing, “Sorry, I can't hear you!” and he doesn’t even attempt to ward off the evil grin creeping across his face.

“Harry, I’m serious—”

But it’s already too late. Harry juts his hand out in front of him, pointing at his companion with a theatrical edge as he begins to serenade, picking up the slack of her part.

“After the war I went back to New York. A-After the war I went back to New York. I finished up my studies and I practiced law. I practiced law, Burr worked next door!”

He looks at her expectantly, urging her to jump into the next half as her assigned role. Y/N muscles down her hesitation and recites the lines timidly with her brows creased in hesitation, but at least she’s participating. “Even though we started at the very same time, Alexander Hamilton began to climb. How to account for his rise to the top?”

Harry joins her in the next stanza, grabbing her hand midair in encouragement, trying to shake her out of her rut. “Man, the man is non-stop!”

Y/N is surprised at how well they sound harmonizing together, and she can feel her discomfort slowly begin to melt. She watches as Harry freely boasts his solo with absolutely no remorse, making grand gestures as he slides down the side of the counter, his movements dragging her along.

“Gentlemen of the jury, I'm curious, bear with me. Are you aware that we're making history?” The boy taps at his chin to symbolize that he’s thinking, acting out the story the lyrics construct. “This is the first murder trial of our brand-new nation, the liberty behind deliberation.”

He points at Y/N once again and she does the supporting vocals, gradually beginning to gain more confidence. “Non-stop!”

“I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt, with my assistant counsel—”

Harry doesn’t even have to cue Y/N this time around; she picks up her half immediately, falling into line with him flawlessly as if they’ve done this a million times before. “Co-counsel. Hamilton, sit down. Our client Levi Weeks is innocent, call your first witness.”

Harry quickly rounds the corner of the kitchen island, giving her body a grand spin as he draws closer, coming to stand right before her. She gives him a fake exasperated look to match the attitude her character depicts, shaking her head in disapproval. “That's all you had to say.”

“Okay…” The creature yanks Y/N forward into his bare chest, leaning down and flirting his lips right over hers tauntingly, eyes half-lidded in amusement. “One more thing—”

“Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room?” The girl rolls her eyes dramatically, shoving past Harry’s shoulder and she finds it humorous how these lines fit so well, almost as if they were actually directed at him, calling him out on the arrogance he always seems to dote. “Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Soon that attitude may be your doom.”

Harry swivels on his heel, following her as she scurries outside the kitchen entrance, running into the living room.

“Why do you write like you're running out of time?” Y/N grabs onto one of the couch cushions, pretending to scribble over it with a fake pen. “Write day and night, like you're running out of time? Everyday you fight, like you're running out of time.”

Harry swipes at her from across the couch, trying to grasp onto the jumper she’s wearing. “Keep on fighting in the meantime.”

Y/N ducks out of the path of his grabbing hand, chucking the pillow forward and it bonks him square in the face. She sticks her tongue out at him as Harry scowls dully, climbing onto his sofa and scuttling towards her on his hand and knees.

She jumps just out of reach, diving across the other end of the furniture. The vampire throws his weight to try and tackle her to the sofa, but she just barely escapes. He ends up toppling over the backrest due to his over-abundant momentum.

“Non-stop!” Y/N waves her middle up at him triumphantly as he pushes himself up off the ground, giving her a challenging look as he takes off after her once again.

The pair continue to sing back and forth, with Harry chasing Y/N around the living room and kitchen as he belts out his part of the song, Y/N always somehow managing to slip from his grasp as soon as her turn hits. They’re a mess of giggles, silly faces, and boisterous actions as they reenact the play and neither can recall a time they had ever had more fun. There’s never been an instance when they felt so comfortable with another soul that they are willing to run around half-naked, screaming lyrics at each other in their underwear, not caring who sees or overhears. It just feels so second-nature.

A section of the song comes up where a woman is singing and Harry immediately takes up the part, placing his hand on his bare hip and standing in the most feminine fashion he can possibly muster, fanning at his face. “I am sailing off to London, I am accompanied by someone who always pays.”

The exaggeration makes Y/N bend over laughing and her distraction allows Harry to nab her. He pulls her into his embrace by her forearms, cackling through the following stanza as she wriggles and squirms to try and get free. “I have found a wealthy husband who will keep me in comfort for all my days.”

Y/N finally gives up on trying to thrash herself free, going limp against his chest and glimpsing up at him with begrudged annoyance, but a fond smile is unmistakably buckling her cheeks. Harry leans down, singing right in her face just to flaunt his victory, their noses brushing. “He is not a lot of fun, but…”

And then, there’s a shift in the ambiance between them.

Harry gazes down at her as she giggles up at him from his arms, full of so much genuine warmth and excitement, she could power the entire city if she wanted. Her shoulders are heaving slightly as a result of all the running, there’s still faint traces of black mascara smeared under her waterline and down her cheeks from the previous evening’s exertions, she has some acne scarring littering her cheekbones that look fairly recent, and her hair looks like it could nest a family of at least ten birds. But despite these imperfections, Harry finds himself feeling oddly endeared by it all. These flaws are all things he’s gotten used to and has grown to treasure in Y/N. They make her who she is. They make her witty, and they make her clever. They make her fun, as well as trusting. They make her likeable, and energetic, and kind. They make her a good friend and a generous lover. They make her... her. Harry gets the feeling that if she didn’t have all of these traits— if even one was missing— this little arrangement they have going wouldn’t have flourished the way it did.

Yeah, maybe he would have slept with her once or twice more just to scratch an itch, but he most likely would have let it fizzle to an end after the fact. Her personality paired with these small details— albeit, not all entirely attractive— that make up her existence play a key role in the dynamic they share. And he wouldn’t trade them for anything else— wouldn't trade Y/N for anyone else. Not anytime soon.

A warm surge travels through his chest, filling his veins like kerosine, heating him from the heels of his socked feet to the tips of his ice cold fingers. An unorthodox swelling sensation twists inside his ribs, right where his heart used to beat, and he finds himself reciting the next line in a soft voice packed with more emotion than he’s shown or felt in the last two centuries.

“There’s no one who can match you, for turn of phrase…”

Y/N seems oblivious to all of the unsettling experiences he’s undergoing, her amused expression not changing in the slightest. Harry allows the rest of the song lyrics to pass by, the lump in his throat too heavy to fight. Instead, he just keeps staring down at Y/N with brows frowning in confusion, his breathing coming out bated and shaky, and that knot in his chest continuing to tighten until it becomes painful. He gets the sudden urge to kiss her— to feel her lips press to his and feel her give into him the way she always does. The way she has for the last four weeks. He doesn’t want it to be sloppy or desperate or sexual; he wants it to be intimate, soft, and caring. He wants it to be special. Something they share. Something only they share.

Then, that moment passes. That flicker of weakness that had leaked through vanishes and Harry feels like he can breathe properly again.

He breaks their locked eyes, releasing Y/N from his hold and taking a swift step back, coughing awkwardly to try and rid the tickling sensation in the back of his throat. He scratches at the nape of his neck nervously, fiddling with his baby curls and attempting to piece himself back together after that unexpected and unwelcome intrusion of his innermost feelings. Though, he doesn’t know if that spectacle even files under the category of emotions; from what he remembers, they aren’t supposed to tangibly attack you in such a manner. It felt more like a violation— like someone had gone in and started poking and prodding at his subconscious with a metal skewer.

“Harry…?” Y/N inches closer to him, concern prevalent in her voice and across her features as she stretches her hand out caringly. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to be sick.”

“I-I’m—” His voice comes out higher than usual and quivering, so he coughs once again to get it under control, taking another step back. He's scared that if she touches him, that horrible burning sensation will come back. “I’m fine. Just...Just forgot the lyrics.”

“Oh, okay…” The girl doesn’t sound convinced with the answer, but she lets the subject falter anyways, her hand dropping back down beside her thigh. “Just checking.”

“Yeah, I got that. Uh, thanks. But I’m all good now.” He holds up a clenched first and juts out his pinky, wiggling it for significance. “Promise”

Y/N scoffs gently at his playful deed. “Alright, then.”

Harry eyes her attentively as she returns to her previous spot in front of the plate of pancakes, retrieving her fork and starting to pick at them like before, as if nothing had happened. As if Harry hadn’t just almost had a cardiac arrest, despite the fact that the organ responsible had crumbled to dust ages ago.

“Are you gonna eat anymore?” Y/N signals down at the stack of pastries before her questioningly. “Because if you don’t get some now, I’ll eat them all myself. Don’t think I won’t. They’re better than the ones I make and—”

The vampire suddenly feels like bile is rising up his throat and his words spew out before he can think to stop them, though he’s not so sure he would.

“Do you want to stay over the rest of the weekend?”

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