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secondhand-trash · 3 years

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If I Only Knew Your Name

A/N: so this was an idea I got while mindlessly picking songs to listen to on Spotify’s Indie rock playlist and came across this one song that just made me want to write something about it hehe accidentally put this aside for a whole month but I’m so glad that it’s here now lmao I had a lot of fun writing this

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x reader

Description: After a drunken night of passion, Atsumu had nothing he could find you with, not even your name. So he took the matter into his own hands and tried to search for you using the power of the internet.

Warning: drunken one night stand, suggestive descriptions, Atsumu is an embarrassment and I sure hope you cringe while you read it as much as I did when I was writing it

Word count: 9453

The song:

Young Love (feat. Laura Marling)//Mystery Jets, Laura Merling

One night of love

Nothing more nothing less

One night of love

Had left my heart in a mess

You woke up with a sharp pain spiking down your back, in a room you were sure you had never been to, on a bed that wasn’t yours.

Your head was heavy and every cell in your body screaming that you just wanted to fall asleep again when you stirred awake. You would have, had it not been the fact that you were not in your own room slowly started to settle in. There was a brief moment of blankness in your mind as you took in your surroundings. The room was still dim, the sun barely shining through the windows that were half covered by the shades. The domestic messiness crossed out the possibility that you were in a hotel room or some odd space behind the club you clearly remembered being at last night.

You did not move as your eyes glanced around the space. Trophies and picture frames were lining up on the shelf at the corner, all of names and faces you couldn’t match up with any of the ones that you remembered. The linen covers you were sitting under was sturdy on your skin, a dark red on top of brown sheets that you would have never bought for your mattress. The scent of the fabric was foreign to you, making your morning state of mind more and more alarmed at the amount of information you were trying to take in. You had to admit that it was very soft on the skin, not the slightest bit uncomfortable as it rubbed against your bare arm when the duvet fell off of your body as you sat up.

You felt a moment of frantic terror at the registration of your own bareness, with your legs feeling terribly cramped, waking up on a bed that you did not remember getting into.

Everything clicked when you stiffly turned to your side, and found someone laying next to you.

The broad back facing your side had you clutching the sheets up to cover your torso that now felt chilly with the lack of layers. The man, whose name you did not think you know and what you had done with him last night you could not remember but was certainly able to guess, was still soundly in his sleep. Now that you were painstakingly unable to ignore his presence, you picked up on the soft snores that lingered in the air, making your legs that were rubbing against each other under what you could only assume to be his spreads tense up as the picture of what happened to get you right where you were slowly got clear.

You would prefer not to think about it in detail, albeit the fact that it getting vivid in your mind sent a trail of heat from your core right onto your face and burning out the fuse in your head.

There was a slither of shame and guilt as you found yourself staring hazily at the man, his sculpted back spasming with each breath. Your hand gripping at the sheets in front of your chest only served to pull it further down his torso, revealing the dip at his waist and his arms that curled tighter against his body with a shiver. Blonde hair sprawled out messily on the pillow, and you felt chills creeping up your spine at the recoil of your fingers fisting those locks and brushing against the fuzzy patch of his undercut as he hovered above you.

Panting, grunting, moaning.

Your skin burnt up at the lingering feeling of a firm grip on your legs, the warm trail of his lips down your neck, and the unmistakable dullness between your thighs.

The heat settled into the pit of your stomach as a weight, twisting your guts until it resembled what felt like a bitter mix of shame and guilt.

Fuck, you slept with an absolute stranger last night.

You bite back a groan, slamming your hands against your face before letting them run down in a weak attempt to clear your head.

This was why you never go to clubs anymore.

The jolt of your body as you sat up straight pushed the sheets off of you and you winced at the soft whimper from the person next to you at the sudden movement. Your naked state was simply uncomfortable, not feeling like you were in your own skin at all as ironic as this was. You couldn’t help but hug your arms around your frame as you frantically looked around to see where your clothes and belongings were, letting out a relieved sigh when you saw the clothes you wore last night littering across the floor in all its messy glory.

Your clothes were all wrinkled up from the careless placement, a clear display of the passion and impulse when they were being taken off. Your hands were the same kind of frantic as you rushed to put everything back on, not caring about tugging them in properly or the fact that you did not even look into a mirror at all to see if you were at least presentable.

You did not hear the groan from the man that tossed over to his side on the bed as you slipped out of the bedroom, careful in softening your steps as you let the door clicked and darting your eyes around to see where the rest of your things were.

If you remembered correctly from the weak reconstruction of what happened last night, then your clutch should be somewhere near the door.

The giggle that slipped past your lips as he swung the door shut turned into a laugh when he latched onto you immediately. You could taste the hint of vodka lingering on his lips, bundling up your senses together with the warm breaths against your neck when he trailed down. It was like floating on a cloud, the way you latched yourself on this handsome man and he seemed to be unable to get enough of you. You barely heard the thump of what you were holding in your hand landing on the floor as your limbs went weak, swinging your arms around his broad shoulders when your mouth fell agape as he sucked down on the soft spot right on your neck.

It was right where you left it last night, the one and only clutch that you felt was suitable for you to bring to a club. There was a hint of hesitation as you rushed to pick it up, holding it in your hand when you thought of the person who you had left on the bed by himself.

What do people do after a one night stand? Talk? Have breakfast together? Or in your case, ask them for their name because you did not remember one thing that happened before you stepped into these doors?

Dear god, no.

So you did the only logical thing you could think of, and rushed out of the door without even looking back.

It wasn’t until you were far away from the apartment building you ran out of, the weight of your body shifting from leg to leg as you waited for the train to slowly drive into the station that something did not feel right to you. Your fingers fidgeted in reflex as you shoved yourself past the small gap between each person stuffed into the cart, a bad habit you had formed as a kid when you were nervous.

Your heart fell into the pit of your stomach when the lack of metal brushing against the tip of your finger finally clicked in your head.

You cussed under your breath, knowing exactly where the thin, gold band must be.

Miya Atsumu woke up with a pounding headache, in his own apartment that he forgot how he got back to, on his bed that somehow felt emptier than usual.

At first, all he could focus on was the clear hungover that he was suffering from. His tongue felt dry and he scrunched his face up at the bitterness as he tried to gulp. The half-drawn curtains were not doing it in shielding the sun that already came out, making him squeeze his eyes tight and blinked a few times before finally adjusting to the brightness. Stretching out on the bed, Atsumu whined at the soreness pulling at his muscles, feeling his joints pop as he arched his back and sprawled over to the other side of the bed.

He froze in place, arms still spread over his head and legs bundling up the sheets, before jolting up in one rapid movement only to wince at the horrible spinning in his head at the rush of blood up to his already heavy head.

Yet, dizziness and all that, Atsumu was sure that the feeling of someone being here with him last night definitely wasn’t just a drunkness induced illusion.

He groaned at the untimely pang of pain that pulsed at his temple, ruffling his hands through the locks of his hair that was tangled up from him tossing around the bed. The slight pull at his scalp at his impatient detangling method made him hiss, but it also served to get his wires just a little more sorted out than before.

First things first, he was very naked and combining that with the certainty that he must have had someone over, it wasn’t very hard for him to connect the dots. He ran his palm over the ruffled sheets, smoothing out the wrinkles and searched if there was still any hint of warmth left on the fabric. He cursed under his breath when nothing else but coolness met his skin, scolding himself for acting like a fool over some one night stand that did not even wait until he woke up to leave.

There was a lump at the back of his throat as he stayed there, holding onto the hovering position he took on the bed without a single thought.

He snapped out of it when he realised that he was in his own space, just staying still and letting time passed without doing anything. Atsumu had a strong feeling that if he stayed in bed any longer then he would just be miserable for the rest of the day and he really couldn’t afford it if he couldn’t manage to get over himself soon enough.

For all that it was, there was no bigger asset to his career than this very body that he felt like trash in right now, and god knows how much trouble he would get if people learnt that he let his performance slip because he couldn’t bounce back after a drunken hookup.

His steps were floaty as he climbed off his bed, stumbling into the bathroom and harshly gripping at the faucet. The water streamed out as a strong current and he splashed it against his face in a sadistic force. The coldness was stinging his skin, with no help from the way he rubbed his hands down his face and back up his chin.

He looked terrible, Atsumu thought to himself when he stared at the reflection in front of him. His eyelids were pulled taut with his hand, cheeks squished under his palm before he pulled away meanly. Bloodshot eyes made him wince and his face was so dropsy it looked like he had cried himself to sleep.

A loud slap echoed in the empty bathroom when he clasped his face a bit too hard in a desperate attempt to clear his head. He whined, rubbing the area that went numb and then heated up. There was a slight flush around the area he had slapped down, but he was feeling more in touch with reality afterwards.

Alright, so what happened last night?

It would be a lie if Miya Atsumu said he had never had one night stands. He would argue that he never go out with the intention for one, but sometimes one thing leads to another and it just happens. Some were good, some not really, some he hadn’t really think of until now when he was desperately thinking of what it was that led him to now.

He hadn’t wakened up with a hungover this bad in a long while. Being in a profession that demands that much of your physiques meant that there was not much room for the more self-destructive type of letting loose. It was strange, Atsumu pinched the center of his brows as one hand on the kitchen counter held his body still, he didn’t quite remember the deeds of what was happened once the door to his room was closed last night.

Wow, he looked up with eyes widened and huffed at no one, that was such a douchebag thing to say.

He, however, remembered the person that stumbled through the door with him in shocking vividness to even his surprise.

He would have to pretend that the lack of follow up did not send a blow to his ego, reassuring himself that there was no way it was because he behaved terribly that the person had to run off before he even woke up. He was bitter about the fact that they had left without leaving even a note, something he had no idea he cared about at all until this very moment when the silence of his home became just short of irritating in his pounding head.

Could have at least said ‘I had fun last night but I gotta go’.

Atsumu rubbed his temple, slowly rotating his arms backwards to get rid of that dull cramp.

Or maybe leave their number somewhere too.

He paused in his track, standing awkwardly in the middle of his tiny living room.

Did he want their number?

He shook his head violently to rid of the meaningless thought, an act he would immediately regret when he remembered that he was having a hungover as the dizziness made him stumble on his feet.

A crisp clang after he took a fumbled step to steady himself quieted all of the voices in his head. That was not a sound that aligned with what his brain expected from his worn-out room slippers kicking against the wooden floor. Atsumu held his head as the rang of what sounded like something metallic registered itself in his mind, blinking at the empty space right in front of his feet.

His eyes darted around the floor, searching for whatever it was he must have stepped on to make that sound. Atsumu was ready to settle for the possibility that he was starting to hear things when a quick flash of light from the corner caught his attention. He walked towards where it was, and slowly crouched down.

It was a ring, a very tiny one. It looked rather ridiculous being held between his calloused fingers, the thin golden band arching off the afternoon light that had shined on it. A very simple design with no gems or carvings along the surface, something very much so the opposite to his taste. He knew it was not his, from the size to the tone to the lack of anything all over its rim.

And then he remembered the first time he saw the ring, on someone else’s finger, just last night.

Atsumu would not classify himself as a party animal, despite the common speculation shared by people who knew him but not well enough. He could deal with house parties just fine, but clubbing had never been much of his thing ever since he woke up outside the back of a night club once with the worst ring in his ear he had ever experienced.

If it wasn’t part of his job, he would much rather be anywhere else than this overly opulent club that his team’s sponsor had booked up for their event. But business was business, and if he wanted to keep having his own room in away games then this was the price he had to pay.

Was it a nice club? He couldn’t say, but it sure was an expensive one if he was to make a guess based on the decor. So expensive that it was a bit tacky, if he dares to say. It was like the owner wanted to remind you that this was high-end and decadent. Imagine what you would see in a basic mansion on a real estate agent’s website, then dim it up and add many hi-fis, what you would result with was likely close if not identical to the space he was in. It was loud and hard to escape from, his ear pounding together with the baseline every time it blasted through He would never quite understand rich people, he thought to himself as he took a sip of his drink and scrunched his eyebrows together. He forced down the urge to poke his tongue out at the obvious taste of syrup, trying to pass it off with a cough into his fist as he plopped down on the barstool.

“How’s your drink?”

The smooth voice reaching into his ear was mismatched to the booming club he was in. Atsumu turned his stool to the side with a push with the heel of his uncomfortable leather shoes and was met with an entertained gaze. You sat with both feet on the footrest of the stool, a posture that seemed rather childish for the night club bar you sat in front of. With your bare forearms lazily placed at the edge of the bar table, your finger tapped casually against the rim of your cocktail glass, the pink liquid inside looking like it was glowing under the neon lights. He could not map out your features too clearly but your head tilted as you looked at him through narrowed eyes, a glimmer behind your lashes from the many lights that hung above your head.

Miya Atsumu was an adult now and in his adult mind, he knew that the proper answer he should give to a stranger asking about the sugary mixture he just poured down his throat was that it tasted decent, expensive even, like the club he was sitting in now.

“It’s kinda shit,” he felt a strange swell in his chest when you let out an unfiltered snort at his answer, leaning back with his arms folded in front of his chest as he licked his lips, “yours?”

You lifted up the glass and necked down the rest of the coloured water, smacking your lips as the sweetness spread in your mouth. “Like the type of stuff they mark up and sell to high schoolers who couldn’t buy real alcohol.”

The bartender at the side threw you two a sharp look and you two sat up straighter, before bursting into a fit of laughter. He supposed you had to be tipsy at the very least and probably so was he, what sober person giggled like a child over trash talking overpriced liquor at a bar? “Why are you here at this trashy place?” you asked, now resting your chin on your palm with your elbow propping you up.

You did not know him, Atsumu was almost delighted by the fact that you likely just struck a conversation with him because he was another bored person trying to escape to the sidelines of dancing bodies just like you with no other intentions. “Got an invite and couldn’t say no because of work reasons,” he wasn’t exactly lying, he just didn’t say that he was supposed to be one of the main guests of this function.

“Ooo...” you let out a soft whistle, tilting your upper body forward him, “are you a big shot?”

He smirked.

Yes. “Not entirely.”

“Hm...” you sat back, your smile pursed as you tapped your finger on the table, “not denying it, huh?”

The vibration of your hum sent shivers to his spine and he blamed it on the very spiked drink he just gulped down. Atsumu ran his hand through his hair, a move he discovered in his teenage years that could let him smoothly fixed his hair while also flexing his arm. “I try to stay humble,” he replied, earning him a playful eye roll from you.

The melting ice clinked in the glass when he held it up against his lips, still looking at you from the corner of his eyes as he tilted it and let the pungent liquid run down his throat.

You nodded, returning to the laid back posture you kept before he sat down next to you at the dim corner of the bar table when you realised he wasn’t going to say more. “Fair enough,” you pretended to sound disappointed, holding your hand out in front of you to swiftly turn your attention away.

“You?”

“Got dragged here by a friend who works for the organiser,” you huffed, “don’t even know anyone here besides from them.”

Atsumu felt the warm buzz of the liquor spreading from his stomach to the rest of his body, settling onto his face as a tipsy fever. He did not look away from you and he was sure it was exactly what you wanted, mindlessly toying with your hand as you faced away from him. Your shoulders pulled back as you slid the thin ring off your index finger smoothly with your thumb, twisting it with the tips of your fingers before letting it fell down another one, all while pushing your hips back against the stool as you crossed your legs.

“Nice ring,” he tipped his chin slightly.

“Oh, this one,” you held your hand out to him, spreading your fingers apart to show him. You pulled back just slightly when he reached out, grinning teasingly at him when he quirked his brow up.

“my grandma gave it to me before she passed away,” you sighed, caressing the band that sat on your finger dreamily, “shoved it into my hand on her death bed and made me swore to never lose it, said it was given to her by her first love when she was a girl.”

“Oh,” Atsumu let out a soft gasp, “oh wow, I-”

He rolled his eyes when you broke out into laughter, the longing expression all gone from your face as you let out a hiccup through your giggling. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

He clicked his tongue, letting out a huff, “Lying isn’t good.”

“Neither is talking to a stranger at a club but I’m still here,” you wet your lips as you flashed a childish smirk, showing him your hand again. He was certain that he was drunk now, because there was no other way he could excuse the pounding in his chest when you didn’t pull away this time as he reached out to hold your hand for a better look.

“I got this as a pack of 5 for 800 yen online,” you said proudly, “quite the deal, if you ask me.”

He hummed in approval, letting out a shaky breath when you slowly pulled your hand out of his grip, the tip of your finger ticking the center of his palm before you lifted it away. It sent electricity trickling down his spine, the feeling of your touch lingering on his skin even as you were steps away from him again, once again staring at him with a smile tugging on your face like you were waiting for his move.

Was it a challenge or was it an invite? Either way, he was ready to take on whatever you were offering.

“You still owe me some sort of compensation for toying with my poor heart like that,” he mused, mimicking the way you leaned towards him from before.

You sniggered, “And what do you want from a poor stranger like me?”

The music playing through the speakers stopped temporarily and for a moment, the projected light illuminated his figure briefly before moving to another spot. You had not taken a good look at him until now, knowing full well that the attractiveness of anyone under the pink, dim glow of the bar was not to be trusted.

But he was really, really good-looking, even when you could actually see his face properly.

The next song started playing and the party people on the dance floor cheered. The loudness that returned made your head ache and you scrunched your nose in annoyance as the dj yelled into the mic. Atsumu threw his head back as the music returned, tapping his finger against his jaw.

“How about,” he said, knowing that you and he were likely to be on the same page, “you make it up to me by letting me buy you a drink somewhere where the drinks aren’t shit?”

You chuckled at his unfiltered suggestion, your laughter slurring into a hum as you grabbed your clutch by the side of the bar. “I can make up to you,” you asked as you stood up, tilting your head to your side, “by letting you pay for me?”

He nodded, smoothing out his shirt as he got up from his stool too.

You shrugged, pressing your palm to your face to let the coldness of your hand calm down the heat on your face as you grinned.

“Take me somewhere nice then, big shot.”

Even through his tipsy haze, Atsumu was sure that this was the most irrational thing he had done in a while but as you took his arm while he pulled you through the crowd and out in the open after being stuck in the same space with many drunk and sweaty bodies afterwards, he was quite certain that he couldn’t care less whether this was stupid or not.

If he had any regrets about it, he would just blame it on the alcohol.

Now that he was staring at a fake gold ring you got as a pack of 5 for not even a thousand yen, Atsumu could only tear at his own hair in regret when he realised that he didn’t ask for your name or contact at any point during which you went from the first bar to one he actually liked, then to many other because there was no way he would get this drunk after just two drinks, and finally stumbled through the door of his own house, before you disappeared as if you had never been there at all.

It was all the alcohol’s fault, fuck alcohol.

It was not his first time taking a near-stranger home and even though he wouldn’t want to say it out loud to people, he also couldn’t guarantee that this was the last time either. He should just forget about it and move on with his day, maybe make some tea, maybe get some soup to cure this heaviness in his head so he wouldn’t make it too obvious that he hadn’t been taking care of himself the way he really should. After all, there was really nothing he could do about it since he didn’t know anything about you other than what you looked like and that you wore cheap jewelry. But it left a strange tightness in his chest when he toyed with the gold ring in his hand, knowing full well that drunk or not he did enjoy his time with you even before it really got to the fun fun part.

He really should have just asked for your name like a normal person instead of trying to look cool and mysterious the moment you talked to him at the bar.

Miya Atsumu let out a sigh no one was there to hear as he slowly accepted the fact that not only was he hungover, he was also hung up, and put the only evidence he had of you ever being there with him into the key tray by his door.

He would figure out what to do with it later but for now, he was starving.

So Atsumu set off for the only one place he could think of that couldn’t kick him out no matter how annoying of a customer he was.

“Say, Samu...”

Miya Osamu sighed, putting the plate he was drying at the side and let the damped towel fell from his hand onto the side of the sink. His twin had finished his food a long while ago yet he was refusing to leave, planting his face down at his counter like a pile of mush as he took up the precious space of Onigiri Miya’s bar seat. Osamu liked to think that he was a supportive brother , by all means. He fed Atsumu, listened to his childish whines and didn’t kick him out when he started getting so loud that the other patrons sent him a worried glance. Maybe he should have pretended that he was about to head out for errands when he saw his twin marching in, slumping down on the stool like he owned the place (Miya Atsumu claimed that he had unlimited access by relation, Miya Osamu denied it with his life and told all his employees to just kick his twin out if he said that bullshit to them).

He was so nice, Osamu thought to himself, he was far too nice.

“What is it?” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest when he heard Atsumu’s muffled voice.

“Do you think it’s possible to fall in love with someone without knowing their name?”

Oh god, what was he up to again?

“Depends,” Osamu snorted, picking his towel again when he realised that it was nothing too serious that he should stop his work to listen to, “if it happens to someone else, then sure, maybe, everything is possible. But if you're telling me that you think you’re in love with someone you don’t know,” he paused, before breaking into a wide grin, “I think I might laugh.”

“Hey!” Atsumu yelled, his fist slamming on the counter as he snapped his head up. The bang caught the attention of several other customers at the shop and Osamu sent them an apologetic bow before glaring at Atsumu who was rubbing his aching hand for slapping it against the wooden surface. “I’m being serious,” he muttered.

“Alright then,” Osamu nodded absent-mindedly, "so what are you going to do about it?”

Atsumu’s raised hand froze in the air before he slowly, robotically put it down, down, down until it was back on the counter together with the rest of his upper body.

Osamu’s nodding got firmer now, letting out yet another snigger, “Thought so.”

Atsumu let out a groan, deflating onto the counter more and more with each whine. He looked sad and pathetic, even more so than he usually was and even Osamu who was born immune to whatever teary rent he put on was starting to get concerned.

“Was the sex really that good?”

“it is not about the sex,” Atsumu mumbled, leaning his chin on top of his folded arms as he sighed, “I just... think we had a connection.”

Osamu laughed, the ugly kind, and earned himself a sharp glare. “A connection, huh?” he giggled, “you’re down bad.”

“It’s not funny...”

Hiccuping as he tried to calm himself down, Osamu placed a hand onto the kitchen counter to steady himself as his body vibrated.

“I still think you’re overreacting,” Osamu took in a deep breath, catching up after finally regaining his posture, “besides, you’re technically a public figure, right? If you can’t find them, why don’t you just try and get them to find you instead?”

Atsumu’s hiss about how he wasn’t overreacting stuck at the back of his throat when paused and thought of what Osamu had suggested.

“Huh,” he sat up a little straighter, eyes rolling inside of their sockets as he pondered, “that’s actually not a bad idea.”

"Of course it’s not,” Osamu huffed, “I’m the smart twin.”

“What did you just-”

Osamu ignored Atsumu’s glare, turning around to resume his work now that he seemed to have fulfilled his responsibility as a brilliant, amazing brother. He gave it a month, no, two weeks max before his brother forgot all about this person and moved on as if Atsumu had never shown up in front of his door with puffy eyes and a love-sick expression.

Oh, he just couldn’t wait to hear all the excuses and denial when he brought it up again the next time they get into a petty argument.

It was a terrible idea.

The Inarizaki volleyball alumni group chat exploded when the first post of what would be many to come was published for the world to see. Suna Rintarou, always so quick with capturing his old teammates embarrassing moments, kicked Atsumu out before he sent out links, screenshots, and pinged every single member of the group who did not read his message immediately. Miya Osamu refused to speak up about it, keep denying that he knew anything about it.

“I do not know this person,” his fingers hurt from how fast he was typing, not even bothering to correct the typos in his message before hitting send to clear his name, “I have no idea what has gotten into him but I’m not responsible for it.”

He was, in fact, telling the truth. Osamu was just as shocked and wide-eyed as everyone else was when he came across his twin’s post on Instagram as he scrolled through his feed mindlessly after work. Let us just say that all his sleepiness was gone when he saw his twin’s pretentious selfie of him standing in front of a window (shirtless), his hand holding onto the frame as he looked out into the grey sky. The posture was optimal for him to flex his back, letting the light seeping out around his frame do the trick of accentuating his muscles. Atsumu’s face was not entirely in the frame but Osamu did not need to see to know that he had his eyebrows furrowed, his gaze lowered into a look that was supposed to convey the message of “wow look at me, I’m so sad, and I’m also hot”.

Miya Osamu felt a metallic ting in his mouth when he imagined Atsumu’s face, so heart-wrenchingly similar to his own, making that look.

He got spammed by the group chat as soon as he clicked out of the app in horror, refusing to look at that monstrosity any longer. Ginjima was losing his mind, Akagi sent out strings of just him keyboard smashing, Oomimi replied with a very concerned sticker and proceed to not show up again, Kita who was not actually on Instagram at all said it wasn’t very nice of them to make fun of their friend like that but also didn’t quit the group chat himself. Ojiro was the last one to reply, seeming to be rather irritated after Suna kept tagging him and tagging him until he finally went online. Unlike the others who were still comprehending what had possibly got into their friend, he sent out a screenshot but this time with the caption of the post highlighted.

“Is he ok? Did he got dumped or something?”

Osamu did not look at the caption before it was brought to his attention, already feeling the impact sufficiently enough from the visual itself. He felt chills running through his arms and spreading to his entire body when he glanced at the string of words, his face scrunching up in disgust at how any sane person could type it out with their own hands.

“My world had not seen light since the day you left it without saying goodbye.”

He silently switched his status to “do not disturb” when the group chat exploded once again, knowing exactly what this was and that he was fully responsible for the pain he was experiencing right now.

Osamu tried to convince Atsumu that if anyone saw these, the only thing it would persuade them to do was run away instead of reaching out to him but it was to no avail. He was convinced that this was romantic and if he kept it up, it would create enough buzz that would possibly lead the stranger he was hoping to stumble across one of these painfully awful posts and recognise him. The posts kept coming and every day, Osamu felt more and more of an impulse to just block him for good so he wouldn’t have to open his feed each day with the fear of seeing things he did not want to see.

One day, on a beautiful weekend morning, when he finally had time to sit down and have a nice breakfast without rushing, Osamu opened his feed to see a glorious picture of his twin chest down (shirtless) on the bed, with the camera panning up to close up on his face from below. The blanket covered Atsumu’s torso loosely, showing just enough of his waist but not too much that he would get flagged. He had the lower half of his face behind his forearm, staring into the camera with such a sultry stare it made Osamu’s skin crawl.

“If I can start over, I’ll give up all I have just for another night with you.”

Osamu nearly didn’t manage to hold himself back from spitting out the water in his mouth.

The word slowly spread among the community. Suna, ever the enthusiastic teammate he was, shared his recently discovered source of joy with fellow EJP Raijin member Komori Motoya, who in turn spammed the latter’s cousin who had no choice but to acknowledge his teammate’s questionable online presence. Sakusa didn’t think he could ever have such a reaction to something that was not physically there to bother him and proceed to show it to the nearest person he could grab in the locker room, but not without reporting the post for containing unsettling images.

If he had to suffer, then he must make sure that there was someone else suffering with him too. Sakusa had no intention of being the only person who had to see Miya’s pretentious bathroom selfie where he stared into the camera all while running his fingers through dampened hair along with a caption Sakusa did not even want to read in his head. The “someone”, captain Meian Shugo who was really not paid enough for this, sighed as he wondered if this was worth reporting to management as a potential pr crisis. Tomas, somewhat curious by the look on his captain’s face, asked if this was the current social media trend in Japan to which all the players present fought to clear that misconception from his head in order to defend their nation’s honour.

Bokuto looked it up after hearing about the whispers and chats between breaks. “Why, this isn’t that bad!” he said cheerfully, “There are people complimenting him in the comments too! Look!”

The rest of the team spent a good chunk of time convincing him that he should think more cautiously about it when he suggested that perhaps he should try to take on this dynamic posing style for his social media accounts too.

It sure did stir up quite the storm among his fellow athletes and the many fans that were wondering what exactly, or who exactly, it was that caused this sudden shift in his behaviour online. The few people who knew the reason for Atsumu’s melancholy, namely Osamu and some others who could not escape from a venting Atsumu, were almost certain that you would have to at least see his face somehow. If he was still hearing nothing, then it was probably about time he gives up and accepts that you just didn’t want anything to do with him.

One thing that these men who put their entire lives into volleyball failed to take into account, however, was that not every person in the world was particularly interested in the sport that lived and breathed. For people who only heard about the sport if the Olympics were coming up, whatever the players were up to in their private lives was probably not something they would care too much about.

Sadly, for Miya Atsumu, the exact person he was looking for was one of those people.

“The fans are starting to go crazy, no one has any idea what is going on with him,” you pulled your phone slightly further away from your poor ears as your friend let out an exasperated yell from the other end of the call.

They lost you when they started talking about this athlete they had a celeb crush on and how they had been acting very strange in their posts lately, realising that this would become one of their ramblings about people with names you barely remember. They bombed your phone in the middle of the day when they found out that their company would be sponsoring a sports team they were obsessed with and did not stop until you threatened to block them until they had calmed down. You still hadn’t forgiven them completely for disappearing out of nowhere after begging you to attend a company function with them all with the reasoning that if they came across one of the players that would also be invited, you could be there to stop them from embarrassing themselves. That was not entirely useful, given that they were whisked away by their colleagues not even an hour into the event and leaving you all on your own.

If it wasn’t for them, then none of the events following that night would have ever happened.

But the past was past and as they called you again to talk about how they were heartbroken because their fav might be seeing someone, you did not stop them, obviously, since you were a great friend.

A sigh called your attention back and you silently closed your dash of animal videos to focus on what they were saying. “Are you even listening?”

“Uhm...” you hummed, “emo thirst traps, you were saying?”

“We tried to dig down all the accounts he was following but no one was posting anything that might match up to his posts,” they let out a whine.

“So,” you said, “are you still going to see him this weekend even if you are heartbroken or?”

They gasped before you suggested that if they didn’t want to go anymore, then you would do something else rather than sitting through a game you were not interested in. “Of course we’re still going!” they emphasised on the ‘we’, “who knows when I’ll get front row tickets again once the sponsorship ends and they aren’t giving the company tickets anymore!”

They paused. “You’re still going with me,” it sounded more like a threat and a statement than a question, and they asked again when you didn’t reply, “you’re going with me, aren’t you?”

You sighed. They were usually pretty laid back, except when it has something to do with volleyball. What was it with volleyball? It was like... football but with hands, tennis without a rack, basketball but with no basket. Ball sports, they were all the same in your eyes. But despite your lack of interest, the truth was that you wouldn’t have anything else to do if you didn’t go with them anyways and you did promise you would go as long as you didn’t have to pay a single dollar.

So you sighed again, earning you a displeased click of the tongue from the other end of the call.

Your lack of interest maintained when the day came. You didn’t think you had ever been to a stadium when there was a game going on before and the arena was already filling up with people waiting to get it by the time you were there. You were delightedly surprised when you learnt that there would be vendors selling food, silently deciding that the very nice yakionigiri you got from one of the stalls might just be the highlight of your day.

The staff at the store looked vaguely familiar, but you had no idea where you would have possibly seen him before.

When the lights of the venue switched off out of nowhere and the crowd cheered, perhaps you could finally start to understand why your friend was such a fanatic for sports. There was something exciting and grand about the bright spotlights and the announcer’s voice pounding through your ears from the speakers. You peeked at your side to see your friend’s eyes glimmering in a way you had never seen before and chuckled to yourself, leaning back with your legs crossed to watch the game in a better position as the players’ names were called one by one.

You froze in place when you saw a very familiar face on every screen around the stadium.

“Number 13, Miya Atsumu!”

What happened to not being a big shot?

Screams filled up the stadium, especially ear grating when the loudest person seemed to be the one right next to you but your mind was an utter state of blank. You were not expecting to see him again, ever again but here you were, with the next several hours of your life stuck watching the man you ditched after a drunken one night stand in the very front row. He looked more put together than your last image of him, the tussled hair replaced by a careful side swoop and the fitted jersey giving him a fresher look compared to the suit he met you in. He seemed to enjoy the attention, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he marched out and waved languidly around the stadium.

You thanked the genius who separated the court and the seats into two floors, hiding you away with the distance even though you were sitting at the very front.

“Oh my god, he’s looking at this direction, he’s looking at this direction!” your friend’s vigorous tug at your sleeve brought your void gaze back to the court.

You were convinced that there was no way he could spot you from that far away. Hell, it was still up to question whether he could see any of the audience with all the lights shining onto his face. But for a moment, just a brief moment, you had a gut feeling that your eyes met in that split second when you looked down and his gaze stopped at right where you were.

“What are you looking at?” Hinata asked, turning his head to the direction Atsumu kept stealing glances at as they lined up in front of the net but saw nothing.

Atsumu shook his head, giving a laugh to pass off the moment when he lost his composure when he thought he saw the face he kept thinking of since that night in the crowd. It has got to be an illusion, he must have been blinded by the lights. Stupid lights, he cursed under his breath before turning to his teammate. “It was nothing,” he smiled, his gaze shifting to the corner he thought he saw you at before quickly snapping back to the court, “just... thought I saw someone I know.”

He did not look at you again throughout the game much to your relief. But this time, you found it hard to stop your eyes from following him around. You would like to argue that it was because you didn’t know any of the other players and the way your friend kept gushing whenever he did something made it hard for you to ignore him but the way he seemed to flourish on court. Something inside of you jumped whenever he scored a point and the live cameras panned up at his face again, showing the satisfied grin and slanted eyes plastered on him. He did what he does so well and with so much confidence and for some reason, that explained to you just why you decided to leave with him that night at the club in the strangest way possible.

He was, still, very good-looking even under the lights and under your sober judgement, perhaps even more so than your blurry memory of how he looked like with a flushed face. But the true hit to your chest was when the entire stadium was watching him as he got to the serving position, taking strides forward before raising his hand to the air.

The world stopped when the entire ground fell to silence at his command, and you took a deep, shaky inhale when you thought of how this person had kissed you again and again on a drunken night until you were both out of breath.

Atsumu was almost 99.9% sure he truly did see you when the match ended.

That last 0.1% was deducted because it was a really good match ending with a win for the Black Jackals and as hot-headed as he could be, he knew better than to believe everything that his adrenaline-filled brain was trying to tell him. But with the spotlights of the stadium dimmed and his full attention no longer required on the court, Atsumu looked straight at where he was sure you had sat the moment the stadium doors opened and people started leaving. It was a blurry glance, just a quick in and out of his vision but he was sure he saw you slipping out of the front row before disappearing into the stairs.

He knew he could still be wrong, but the sudden realisation that he might be the closest to you now than he would ever be again left him frozen in the middle of the court as he stared blankly at the exit. Reporters were starting to gather around the players and his presence was expected, but his legs started moving before the call of his name by the rest of his team could land on his ear.

Pushing through the crowd, the gasps and shocked chatters of the guests who saw the player they just watched dashing out the stadium were none of his concern. All he cared about was to run faster, faster, past the hall and past the people of the stalls that were packing up. He might have just mistaken someone else for you and if it really was you, you might have already left before he could get to the front entrance of the stadium but that did not matter. The only thing that mattered to him right now was that you had been there and if he ran fast enough, there was still a chance that his search all along would not be in vain.

Miya Atsumu was not exactly a believer of fate or a divine destiny but as he stumbled with tired legs down the steps of the grand glass door, he silently made a bet with the beings he wasn’t sure were truly there that if he missed you this time, he would take the defeat that your paths were not meant to cross again and give up.

And the beings, who Atsumu believed was actually there for the first time ever, answered his calls.

“Wait!”

Your feet planted into the concrete when you heard a yell behind you. Your jaw dropped when you hesitantly turned around to see him, whose name you now know thanks to the match, stopping just a few steps away from you with his hands on his knees, seemingly out of breath with his arm reached out. His eyes widened when he looked up and saw that you had stopped there, and you were exactly who he thought you might be. He was heaving, sweat drenching his face but he still took a few stumbled steps towards you until he was right in front of you.

A few words fell out of his mouth but were cut short by his panting. Your head was still not reacting when he finally managed to stand back up, looking right at you even as his breathing stayed erratic.

What does one say to a one night stand that they ditched right when the morning comes?

“So,” you blurted, trying to ignore the heat on your face and the anxiousness in your chest, “not a big shot, huh?”

He let out a snort, his voice cracking as he ran his hand down his face to wipe away the sweat that was starting to get into his eyes. He could finally take the time to look at you now, after confirming that you would not disappear if he did so little as blink.

You were gorgeous, and suddenly all the things he had wanted to say to you sounded ridiculously stupid.

I tried to look for you.

“You left your ring at my place,” he said, his voice still shaking from the sprint he took, growing softer and softer with each word that came out.

“Oh,” you replied, nodding stiffly to try and brush away your nerves.

“Yeah,” he nodded too, and opened his mouth again after taking a gulp to swallow down the knot at the back of his throat, “we should arrange a time to meet so you can take it back from me.”

“Oh,” you stood just a little straighter, “but-”

But it was just one of the five I got in a pack so it really, really didn’t matter that much.

“You said,” he looked down, holding back a smile as he thought of what you had said to him, “you said your grandma made you swore to never lose it.”

He remembered.

“Yes,” you pressed your lips together to stop the chuckle from coming out, “yes I was.”

“So you should come and get it back from me,” he suggested, the last note of his sentence going up as if he wasn’t sure of himself either.

“Yeah,” he beamed when you smiled sheepishly, “I should.”

“Ok good, good,” he murmured in joyful disbelief, grinning ear to ear. The grin faded suddenly when he thought of one very important thing he had forgotten to do last time and must not forget this time.

“Can I have your name?”

You burst out into laughter. “You can have my number too, if that’s what you want,” you mused, “Miya.”

A rush of heat washed through his face at the sound of his name out of your mouth. He would die if you call him by his first name later on, he was sure of it.

“Yes,” he said almost embarrassingly fast, “yes I would love that. I-” he groaned when he realised that he still had his phone in his jacket that was left in the locker room.

“Wait for me here,” he had already started walking backwards, snapping towards you with his hand out as he added in panic, “don’t go anywhere!”

You still hadn’t stopped laughing when he sprinted back into the stadium again like his life depended on it.

Bonus

Miya Atsumu deleted all of the posts he made during his search for you the moment he added your contacts into his phone, but what he did not count was that there were other people who would preserve those precious memories for him.

It was a few weeks after he caught up to you in front of the stadium and several days after your relationship went public. Your friend had nearly torn your eardrums apart when they learnt that you were the mysterious person they had been hunting after but overall, dating Atsumu had been great, even to the point where you thought it was so stupid of you to run away from him in the first place.

You got a notification that someone direct messaged you on instagram as you were getting ready for a date night.

It was not someone you know but there was a verification mark next to his username. Clicking into his profile, you assumed that it must be one of Atsumu’s friends in the volleyball circle when you saw the line saying “EJP Raijin middle blocker”.

“Hi, I’m Suna, I was on the same high school team as your boyfriend was. I don’t think we have met but I’m sure we will be very good friends.”

Before you could manage to type out a reply, he sent you multiple pictures and you paused as they loaded, wondering what Atsumu’s old high school teammate might send you.

You blinked when the pictures finally finished loading, and silently dialed your boyfriend’s number.

“Do you have something you forgot to tell me about what you have done in order to try and find me online?”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu imagines

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Text

𝙅𝙀𝘼𝙇𝙊𝙐𝙎𝙔 | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙨 (18+)

∘ request(s):

Ooh maybe edgy!karl teaching skateboarding :o. I’m also in uni and I remember my first frat party was quite interesting 😂 -🦋

ahhhh part four of your edgy karl was soooo good!!! could i get jealous karl? maybe someone else is hitting on the reader at a party

please please please more edgy!karl if u can. like maybe where him and reader get into a fight because he gets like jealous and he just shows the reader who they belong to fjsjjsj thankyouuu !! 🤍🪐 x

∘ pairing: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader

∘ warnings: nsfw (18+ minors dni), smut, light bdsm, jealous, somewhat toxic behavior, crude language, frat boys (again), mentions of masterbation, biting, domination, spanking

∘ word count: ~3200

∘ links: 𐐪 ao3 𐑂 𐐪 previous part 𐑂 𐐪 submit an edgy!karl edit 𐑂

a/n: not me having to watch daddy tony hawk tutorials for this bc I'm uncultured and only skateboarded for like three months when I was 14 :)))

thank you for all the requests (especially 🦋 ily). if any of you have ideas for what I should call this series, lemme know! as always, have a great week and happy reading :)

♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

The parking lot behind the campus union was barren. The morning dew in the air left a sweet smell to combine with Karl’s cologne as he walked beside you, his arm bumping yours as he listened to you nervously ramble on about one of your classes. You weren’t sure why, but the thought of falling on your ass in front of Karl terrified you more than anything. This man had degraded you and made you completely submit to him in the past, yet you were worried that not being able to master his ~craft~ would ruin his image of you.

He dropped his skateboard, his feet settling on it lazily as he rolled beside you. You watched quietly as he stopped, kicking his foot down on the front of his board so it popped into his hand. “You won’t fall. I’ve got you,” he joshed, tugging on your hand so you were in front of him.

He set the board down, his hands going to your hips as you stepped on it. His fingers dipped under the hem of your sweatshirt, your skin lighting up at his touch as if his hands belonged on you. “You look like an anemic Victorian boy. I don’t trust you as a safety net,” you grumbled, your hands covering his. You knew, roughly, how to skate from a middle school phase you had. Karl only promised to teach you a few tricks, but to say you were rusty would be an understatement.

He chuckled darkly, nudging you closer to the middle of the board and peering over your shoulder to look at your stance. “I’ve fucked you without your feet touching the floor. I think I can catch you before you hit the ground, baby,” he chided, making you scoff.

Your cheeks flushed with heat at his words. “Dirty, dirty boy,” you mumbled. He instructed you on how to kick the board up to where you needed it. His words were simple and almost plain like he knew you could figure it out. You attempted to push the board up, but crashed into Karl’s arms, your back thumping against his chest.

He giggled slightly as he straightened you up, setting you back on the board as his foot kept it from rolling out from under you. His hands hovered over your hips again as he moved his foot, leaving you to balance on your own. “If you fall correctly, people will just think you were giving really good head,” he jested. You shoved his arms away at his words as he laughed at his own joke.

You attempted a few more times and nearly had it down before Karl’s hands were on your hips again, giving you further instructions. You fought not to smile as his breath ghosted against your neck. You knew he cared about teaching you something that---on paper---was seemingly so easy, but his vulgar teasing was beginning to swarm your head. With his next steps set as your goal as well as the feeling of his hold on you, you kicked the board up and attempted to jump with it. While your brain was up to speed, your feet weren’t, sending the board out from beneath you and you to fall into its place.

Karl snorted as choked back a laugh at you scrapping your hands on the concrete. “Come on, don’t be a pussy. Try again,” he chided, voice uneven and laced with whatever dark humor he was getting from watching you do this.

You rolled your eyes playfully, letting him tug you up in front of him. As you wobbled on the board once again, you let his hands dig into your sides. Obviously, it seemed that he actually was worried about dropping you again, despite the fact that he was holding back some kind of sick laugh. “You would be great at teaching a kid how to ride a bike,” you quipped, the fact that he called you a pussy seeping into your mind.

You gasped slightly as you slipped again, this time Karl’s arms wrapping around you tightly, pressing your body against his. “Awe, you want me to put a baby in you, pet?” He jeered with his lips near your ear. You shrugged out of his grip, breaking up your indecent thoughts at his comment.

You could feel the heat rising to your ears as you balanced on his skateboard again. “Stop, you perv,” you deflected, hoping he couldn’t tell how hard you were having to bite back a smirk.

After your skateboarding escapades, you sat typing away at your computer, Karl occasionally looking over his phone to peer at you. His legs were thrown lazily on either side of you as he stretched out on his pillows.

An alarm went off on Karl’s phone, startling you in the process. He fought against smirking at your surprise as he sat up, crawling over to you. “Okay, I gave you two hours,” he stated, leaning forward to press his lips against yours and gently close your computer. The taste of him on your tongue was like a drug for you, leaving you constantly wanting more.

You smirked into his kiss as your brain finally caught up with you. “I hope that document saved, asshole,” you groaned, pushing him back into his pillows as he chuckled at you. His fingers dragged up the length of your thighs, squeezing the flesh in his hands as you straddled him. “Fucking weirdo, timing me. Who are you, my dad?” You teased, pressing a kiss to his neck and digging your fingers into his hair.

He moaned lowly, grinding against you. “Oh fuck yeah. Call me daddy,” he cantered.

“No,” you answered simply. You sat up, reaching over to his top drawer in search of protection, but running your fingers over a lacy garment instead. Your brows knitted together as your gaze shot to the drawer, your underpants dangling from your finger. Karl tucked his hands behind his head, looking up at you nonchalantly as your mind flashed with memories of your time in the bathroom.

Before you had the opportunity to ask him what he was still doing with them, his door popped open to reveal one of Karl’s roommates, his name beginning with a D but slipping your mind. “What are you guys doing in here?” He asked with a rather dopey smile, gesturing to Karl still between your legs. “Everyone’s downstairs, come on.” You and Karl shared a look as he left.

You leaned back down to him, kissing him briefly before pressing your lips to his neck again. “Wanna come over instead?” You suggested softly, your lips ghosting over his ear.

Karl loped down the stairs in front of you, a heavy layer of smoke hanging in the air above your heads. A mass of people crammed themselves together, finding solace in each other after the long week. If you weren’t so hung up on getting into Karl’s pants, you might have considered joining them.

Before the two of you could reach the door, someone called out for Karl. Their voice boomed over the loudness of the music, making Karl wince slightly. His face flattened into a frown as “Todd” waved at the two of you. Karl took a few slugging steps to stand close enough to Todd’s group that they wouldn’t have to yell at each other. You settled your hand on Karl’s hip as you wrapped your hand around his waist, leaning against him. Todd’s eyes traced over you.

He wet his lips. “You guys leaving already?” He asked, leaning back in his chair and accepting the joint offered to him. From an outsider’s perspective, he looked like the king of the castle. Luckily, you knew better. “Come on, play a game with us!” He suggested, patting the empty spot beside him. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you could tell Karl was rolling his eyes. “I got a seat warmed up for you, baby girl,” he nodded towards you.

You perked an eyebrow in his direction and Karl slipped his hand into yours nonchalantly. “Thanks, but no,” Karl stated.

“Come on, Karl. Don’t make me pull pin.” At Todd’s words, Karl groaned reluctantly, the sound barely audible. You furrowed your brows at him. “Fifteen minutes. We were gonna play Never Have I Ever.”

You leaned towards Karl. “What’s pulling pin?” You mumbled.

“Flexing rank,” he grunted back. He tugged you with him to join the group. Before you could sit down, Todd pulled you into the spot beside him. You laughed nervously, watching as Karl’s features darkened as he sat across from the two of you. Todd handed you a drink, which you took but avoided sipping out of.

A boy beside Karl piped up. “Okay, so never have I ever graduated high school. My degree is literally fake.” The boy smiled before taking a drink, making you giggle slightly. Todd draped his arm around the back of the couch where you were sitting. He wasn’t touching you exactly but every ounce of his being was getting under Karl’s skin.

Todd smugly shook his head. “No, Zeke. Those aren’t the rules. You have to say something that’s not true about you. Like…” he trailed off slightly, his gaze settling on you before his mouth twisted into a smirk. “Never have I ever slashed someone’s tires.”

You humored him with a subtle smile as if to ask if he was serious. He gestured towards Karl, who took a drink. You bit back a grin. “Well, never have I ever masturbated to a girl my roommate’s sleeping with,” Karl retaliated. Your eyes grew wide, suddenly happy to watch the event unfold before you.

Todd took a drink after glaring at Karl. He leaned closer to you, this time his arm dropped to pull you against his side. “Do you wanna take a turn?” You shook your head, flashing your eyes to Karl before looping your fingers with Todd’s. Karl chewed the inside of his cheek, looking like he was holding back another laugh. “Alright, I’ll go.” Todd brought your hand up to his lips, kissing your palm. “Ah, I know. Never have I ever betrayed the secret oath of the frat and called the police.”

Karl took another sip, his eyes on you. “Yeah, because never have I ever set the house on fire trying to light a bong,” he answered, making you snort.

You let your free hand settle on Todd’s knee. “Awe, I’d light your bong for you,” you chided, making Todd laugh as he took a drink.

“I bet you could do a lot for me, Princess,” he flirted, his lips nearing your ear. You raised your eyebrows in Karl’s direction, who was sitting with his chin in his hand. His expression was darkly entertained as you flirted with Todd. “Speaking of,” Todd looked to Karl again. “Never have I ever fucked someone on my roommate’s bed,” he teased, tucking his nose in the crook of your neck.

Karl smirked. “You’re right, you probably haven’t,” he stated simply, downing the rest of his drink. Todd tensed slightly beside you. Karl stood, ruffling the hair of one of the other Brothers that were in the group before holding his hand out for you to take. As the two of you left, you heard one of the guys whistle and say something about never having peed in a pool before.

As the two of you left the house, you walked in time with Karl’s heavy steps, swinging your entwined hands as if you were completely oblivious. “I can’t believe I made you jealous,” you taunted. You could practically see the steam rolling off his shoulders as he opened the passenger car door for you. Before you could slip into the seat, Karl’s hand gripped the back of your neck, bringing you to press your lips roughly against his. He pinned you between him and the cool metal of the car as the taste of beer spread across your tongue.

His fingers dug into your hips, his other hand tightening around your throat. The coolness of his tongue ring was a welcomed sensation as you attempted to find friction against his hips. Your fingers moved to close around his wrist as he pulled away, leaving you gasping for air. His face was expressionless as his gaze danced from your lips to your eyes. “I’m going to fuckin’ ruin you for the way you acted,” he ribbed, stepping away from you.

You nearly slid down the side of the car at his words. “Okay,” you whispered, heat rising to your cheeks and ultimately to your core.

Karl’s calm exterior followed you until you finally got your apartment door open. Karl pinned you against the wood of your bedroom door, reaching to twist the lock as his lips began to commandeer your own. His hands dragged up your thighs beneath your skirt, squeezing at the flesh roughly. He yanked your shirt off, grinding his hips up and against yours as his teeth moved to nip at the skin of your neck before returning to badger your lips.

The taste of beer on his lips blended with your flavored chapstick as your tongue slipped into his mouth. In a mess of tugging and biting each other, your body melted into his rough grasp. You wanted whatever repercussions his twisted mind could come up with. You wanted him to do whatever he wanted to you. You fought against diving your hands into his jeans to beg him to continue, but he broke away from you as you fought to catch your breath.

Your lips were buzzing as the feeling of him still lingered. He brought his hand up to your jaw, tipping your chin up to him. “Fucking slut,” the devil’s grin painted across his face before he continued, pressing his lips against yours once more, his grin dragging your bottom lip between his teeth. “You act like I don’t fucking own you,” he nearly growled, his face hovering over yours as his hand squeezed your throat. You moaned quietly as he regulated your breathing with his hand. You wanted to drink in his dark, commanding appearance.

He pushed you back on the bed, making you instinctively crawl up towards the pillows. He smirked slightly, undoing his belt and slipping it into his hands. He put the garment on your bedside table. After tugging his shirt off, he was on top of you again, pushing you into the pillows and the fluffy comforter. Karl’s lips seared yours, showing you how much command he had over your body. He ground his hips against yours, the fabric of his jeans digging into you to elicit a moan echo from your mouth. You could feel his erection hardening against your leg, the tension deep within you tightening at the prospect of what he was going to do to you.

His fingers tugged at your skirt, gripping the material in his fist and dragging it down your body as if it was nothing. He flipped you, your elbows crowding the pillows as you felt him sit on your back, snapping the belt in his hands again. You let out a short breath as Karl’s nails raked up your back before his fingers dipped in your hair, tugging your head back to look at him. “I want you to scream my name tonight,” he groaned. You obliged as he dropped his grip on you.

He pulled your wrists between the bars of your headboard before binding you to the metal with his belt, yanking the leather to sinch against your skin. He dropped his head to press his lips against your shoulder, a tender nod of affection you knew would be the last. You leaned on your side to watch him sit back on his knees to unbutton his jeans. “Be gentle,” you leered, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth to fight your grin again as you watched him spit into his hand and stroke himself in preparation.

He chuckled. “I’ll take good care of you, sweetheart,” he murmured darkly through a smirk. He pulled your hips up and against his own, forcing your face into the mattress. Your hands tightened around the metal bars, as he angled himself at your entrance before driving himself into with an act of force you knew you deserved. A moan of his name slipped past your lips as his fingers dug into your hips, thrusting into you to drive himself deeper into you. “That’s right. I want the neighbors to know who’s fucking you,” he groaned, snapping his hips against yours.

Moans of pure bliss escaped your lips as his head neared yours. Karl used your hips as leverage for his unwavering pace, leaving you a mess of pleasure beneath him. His lips found their way to your neck as he nipped against the sensitive skin. You wanted him to mark you, to claim you, and he deserved to. His hand from your hair became wrapped around your throat as he began to reach his peak.

His hand slapped your ass with such force you knew there was a handprint, but you were too overwhelmed with the noises escaping his lips and your climax threatened to disobey your control to be concerned with the sting. If anything it threatened to push you over the edge. Your hands pulled against the leather of his belt as he pounded into you.

Your toes began to curl as he leaned over you, his breath fanning against your shoulder as you bit back heavy moans of pleasure. Karl’s hand was knotted in your hair again, his other fisting the sheets beside you. “Who’s making you feel this good? Huh?” You moaned out his name as he punctuated his sentence with the thrusts of his hips. “That’s right, you fucking slut.” You tightened around him, your orgasm sweeping over you with an element of shock.

You could practically hear Karl’s smirk as he moaned at the sight of you coming undone beneath him. He continued to ride you, finishing rather abruptly. He pressed his lips between your shoulder blades before loosening the belt around your wrists. Your back popped as you were finally able to move freely. He bit back a chuckle as you gingerly snuggled beneath the covers beside him. You slipped your hand across his torso, hugging his side against your chest as he rested an arm behind your head.

As you laid your head on his chest, his heartbeat began to steady, his fingers lightly brushing against your skin. “I’d rather eat my own feet than sleep with Todd, you know,” you croaked, realizing just how much your voice was weakening, breaking the silence between the two of you.

Karl chuckled softly. “Me too,” he commented, making you smile slightly. “I’m actually…” he paused slightly before continuing as if searching for what he wanted to say exactly. “I’m actually not sleeping with anyone else.”

You couldn’t fight the smile spreading across your face. “I’m not either.” You hugged him tighter, letting his fingers twirl into your hair. “I’m good with you.”

“I’m good with you, too,” he mirrored, a smirk evident in his voice as his other hand traced over the red marks on your wrists from his belt.

Tags:

@mrwinemaker @madsbbg @idiotinnit @xxtakechancesxx

#karl jacobs x you #karl jacobs smut #karl jacobs x reader #edgy!karl #edgy!karl jacobs #edgy aesthetic #eboy #🦋 anon #mcyt x reader #mcyt smut #karl jacobs imagine

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that-one-weeb-but-starwars · 3 years

Text

One Night| Hunter

Note: Nsfw content,

Warnings: creampies, p in v, facials, squirting, name calling, rough, hair pulling, light choking, smoking 18+ content

Reader: Female

"Thanks again." Y/n thanked the kessel burbon slid to her, sliding credits to Cid, "any more missions?"

"No,those clone boys took the last one I had." Cid spoke, "there won't be any more for a few cycles."

"Clones took my jobs?" Y/n questioned, sipping the hard liquor.

"Yeah! When wrecker through those KT troopers like it was nothing!" Omega cheered as the group walked down into the bar.

"Speak of the devil." Cid spoke, Y/n turning her head.

"Yes Wrecker's strength was acceptionally helpful this mission. Yet Omega's new tracking skills came in handy." Tech spoke.

"And Echo's climbing skills! How do you do that with one hand?!" Omega cheered.

"Pratice." Echo spoke.

Hunter chuckled at Omega's happiness.

"We did good boys-"

He stopped, seeing Y/n casually talking to Cid, sipping on her drink, her hair a mess, a few braids in her short hair making her hair uneven in both long and short length. In baggy black robes a belt tired tigh around her waist. Boots knee high with her baggy pants tucked in. Her eyeliner red and in sharp wings up towards her relaxed brows.

She turned her gaze towards hunter, her eyes a cybernetic white, then her head followed. Her gaze lingering on him as she smiled smally.

"Oh no no no! Watch your eyes dark and broody!" Cid argued, rushing around the counter.

"Don't mind me I'm also looking disrespectfully." Y/n teased getting up from her seat, following behind Cid.

"Uh," Hunter tried to speak, woah was his only thought process, "Your...new."

"Not knew. Just havent seen me before." Y/n smiled, standing next to Cid with a hand on her hip, "names Y/n's and Im presuming you all are the clones that have been taking my jobs?"

"Oh, we are?" Omega looked up at Hunter, who was still at a lost for words.

"What?" Hunter asked looking down at Omega.

Y/n chuckled, walking up to the longer haired male, "Listen, dark and broody, we can be friends. I just want my missions."

She leaned into his face, his face becoming red "Y-yeah..."

"Thanks then." Y/n smiled, his eyes gazing to his banana, "I'll take this as payment for taking my last missions."

With ease she pulled the headband off his head, turning her head half way to talk to Cid she smiled.

"I'll see you late then mom." Y/n chuckled, nudging Hunter as she passed, "Im off to collect some credits Im owed."

"Did she just call Cid Mom?" Wrecker questioned Y/n walking out the bar and up the steps.

"I believe she did." Tech responded.

Hunter was hit in the side with Cid's walking staff, "I'm docking your pay half!"

"What!?" Hunter argued.

"Thats what you get for lookin at my kid like that!" Cid defended, "watch it next time"

"Well if our pay has already been docked. She was quiet pretty. Her eyes especially." Tech repsonded as Hunter nudged him hard.

"Hey-"

"Don't worry, Hunter if you marry her Cid's your new mom!" Wrecker laughed shoving the man.

"I don't even know her!" Hunter argued.

"And that'll never happen!" Cid defended, "now watch it before I dock all your pay! You won't be seeing her again."

"But she took Hunter's bandanna." Omega pointed out, Hunter feeling his head.

"She did?!"

"And I thought Wrecker had it bad for that twilek girl he helped at the market." Echo told.

So there Hunter was, left the whole day with no headband, atleast 3 standard hours he waited, rubbing his head feeling as if he was missing something, well he was missing something.

"Hey! Mom! You'll never guess the load I got this time!" Y/n called out walking down the steps and into the bar, "I beat fifteen of the finest warriors apparently! Yeah right!"

Y/n walked in, gym bag at her side, the boys turning to the girl, stripped down to a tank top and a diffrent set of black pants that were tucked into her boots, a certain red bandana around her thigh.

"Oh you're all still here." She spoke, "I was-"

Hunter stepped infront of her, "I'd like my bandana back."

"Hm? Yeah come on." Y/n spoke, walking around him, "follow me."

"Yeah no sorry- not happening-" Hunter argued grabbing her wrist, "just hand it over."

Y/n ripped her wrist from him, hurting his hand in the process, "well then take it off, its right there."

Hunter kept his gaze away from Y/n's thigh, her ahoulder looking interesting at the momment.

"Well its mine then." Y/n spoke going to walk away but her arm was grabbed, Hunter turning to her as he kept his gaze up, his hands feeling for the band,

She chuckled, "little higher and you'll be at my zipper-"

He sighed looking away as he felt his bandana, his hand reaching around and untying it from her thigh.

"You smell nice." Y/n teased

"I don't see how you're Cid's kid." Hunter commented.

"Not by blood sweetheart." Y/n commented.

There was a chuckle as Hunter turned his head, Tech and Echo going back to there silence Wrecker luckily out and about with Omega. Hunter removed the band finally as Y/n chuckled.

Y/n leaned over, kissing Hunter's cheek as he flushed, "rooms down the hall on your left, we should be lucky my mom's on the upper floors."

Hunter only nodded as Y/n walked away, waving to his two brothers who were playing sabbec at the bar.

Hunter turned around to follow her a few mintues later, "don't be too loud."

Hunter glared at the two but made his leave anyways, following Y/n's instructions. Making it to the last door he knocked the door sliding open as Y/n sat on the floor, a tray in her lap, neon fairy lights on the strung carelessly on the walls and ceiling, weapons littered on the floor, some things hanging on the walls, there was a mess of the bed.

"So you came." She spoke popping whatever she was rolling into a jar, setting it on her nightstand and pushing the tray into the drawer. Standing up zhe grabbed a box of matches, throwing herself into one of the large bean bag chairs, big enough for two people, "lock the door would you?"

He did as asked, "why call me in here?"

"Well...Dark and Broody." Y/n spoke, "sit, come on."

Patting the seat besides her he walked over, "I have a name."

"Okay? Tell me it."

"Hunter."

"Okay Hunter." She spoke, "you seemed tense. So we. Me and you. Are gonna smoke-"

"Smoke? Smoke what-"

"One of these." Y/n spoke holding up the jar, "Kessel herb."

"Spice? Yeah no-"

"No. Herb." Y/n defended, "there's a big difference."

Hunter watched her swish the jar around in front of him, "you pick one for me atleast."

Mentally sighing he did as asked, Pulling out a joint for her she smiled, closing the jar and setting it aside, "atleast this doesn't smell bad, smells like flowers."

Hunter watched her open up the match box, the joint between her lips as she striked the first match, a complete dud, she moved onto the second one, also a dud, by the fourth one Hunter was wondering if she'd ever light the thing.

"Dropped them in water-"

"I can do it." Hunter cut off, Y/n gladly handing him the match box as she leaned over, he striking out on the first match but the second one he got working, the flame bright and prominet despite the red undertone of the lights, leaning over as well he lit the thing easy as pie.

"Thanks."

He watched her take a deep inhale in bowing out through her nose she leaned back, muscles already calming and relaxing.

"Why did you really call me in here."

"I told you to smoke." Y/n spoke, "I know a stressed man when I see one. Shit half the time I am a stressed man."

Hunter watched her take in another puff, "Plus it would ruffle my moms scales."

Hunter chuckled Y/n was right about that much, "yet also wanted to see if you wanted to hook up for a night."

Hunter coughed, not because of the smoke but the abruptness, "I'm sorry?"

"Well I seen you look at me the way you did earlier," she told, "and you're pretty good looking, but you seem to atleast have a good head on your sholders, men I know that look at me usually make a comment right away, you kept them to yourself."

Hunter responded with silence, "it's just a suggestion, an idea." She told him turning to look at him.

Again silence and Y/n contuined to smoke as if it was no problem that he said no, he found it, hot, sexy even. She knew what she wanted and she asked if told no she was okay with that, carrying out through her day.

"Why me?"

"I just explained why, you." Y/n spoke, "its yes or no tense guy."

Hunter shifted, its been a while, he mentally sighed, Y/n returning to smoking casually. Was this a way of teasing? If it was, it was harsh, and it was working. Shifting once more there chlothed and armored touching one another.

Damn, Hunter thought, to have her strong thigh in his hand, his head between her thighs. He looked up seeing Y/n pull the joint away once more, feeling the stare Y/n turned her head

"Wanna try it after all?" Y/n questioned, bringing the joint infront of him, "if not more for me."

Fuck it, the empire rules the galaxy, the republic fell, his brother is trying to kill them, what could he possibly loose from having any fun.

He took it with gloved fingers bringing it to his lips, Y/n watched him take a deep inhale, Y/n impresssed.

"This isnt your first rodeo." She teased.

He leaned in closer to her, if even physically possible, removing the joint from his lips, he pushed closer to Y/n, his lips placed on her's softly, and only for a momment, then pulled away, strings of smoke coming from both there lips now as Hunter's mind felt clear, relaxed.

"Lets do it." Hunter responded, usuing his armor as an ash tray, pressing the ashes to death on his chest plate as the embers died.

"One puffs not gonna get you anywhere." Y/n teased.

"But you will..." he whispered against her lips, pressing furthur once more he kissed her.

The kiss much more passionate than the first, Y/n running her hands through his hair, his bandanna slipping off in the process as she tossed it away.

"Fuck you're so hot..." He whispered into the kiss, Y/n moaning softly, his hands untucking her white tank top from her pants.

"Don't tell Im sharing with someone, thats why you came back all undressed." He teased against her lips, his hands hiking up her t-shirt past her covered breast.

"If sharing means arena fights. Then yes." Y/n teased back causing Hunter to chuckle.

Hunter pulled away, unclapssing his armor as she watched, letting it be tossed to the floor he was stripped down to his blacks. Bitting her lip at the buldge in his blacks, he leaned back into her,kissing her lip's passionately, forcing his tongue into her mouth she groaned, his touange pressing against his as they fought.

The kiss ended in a tie, both pulling away panting, Hunter let his hand's find her bare skin in the mean time, traveling up her adoment and covered breast he found her shirt, pulling away he lifted it over her head and arms. About to kiss her again she stopped him, pulling on the edge of his blacks, she pulled his shirt up, he lifting his arms in the process, his gloves rolling off with his sleeves in the process. Tossing the article of chlothing somewhere random. He removing her black sports bra, he kissed her just above her breast.

She humming in pleasure as he did so, traveling up to her neck, kicking her boots and socks off in the process, her legs tensed squeezing together Hunter had found her sweet spot, the space just above her collar bone, where her muscle was tense.

"H-hunter..." she panted, kissing the side of his head as she let out a soft groan, her head rolling back as her fingers tugged on his hair.

"You drive me crazy doing that..." Hunter whispered against her skin, dragging his kisses down her chest, and to her breast, where he let himself take in one of her soft buds.

"Fuck..." he moaned, his hair being pulled once more.

"Maker you're mouths amazing-" Y/n spoke her legs squeeze together tighter, adding to her pleasure as she groaned.

Switching over to give the second one just as much attention his hand cupped her other breast, squeezing her battle scared flesh softly, his other hand slipping behind her waist band slipping into her panties.

Hunter pulled away from her bud with a intoxicated look, "Your soaked..."

Y/n chuckled, "and you're hard as a rock..."

Pulling his hands away from her, she watched him undo her pants, pulling them down as quick as he could, and with her help of kicking them off they were gone.

Y/n reached for the last of his blacks, pulling them off his hips he pulled at them as well, removing his boxers as well. His chlothes barely releasing his length, Y/n's hand wrapped around the base of his aching cock.

Y/n's face laced with warmth and a teasing smirk she let her thumb rub the strip under the base of his cock, he groaned watching her tease his cock. His hand pulling at her panties she raised her hips to help, and he loosely pulled them down enough to let his hand go between her legs.

His finger's teasing her clit softly as she meweled, "Fucking hell..." she whined softly.

Both messes under each other's touches Y/n picked up a pace, her hand starting to milk his cock as he moaned heavily, body both relaxed and tense he gripped her thigh.

"Easy- now..." Y/n whispered to him, planting a soft kiss on his lips, "Don't wanna finish just in my hand do we?"

Hunter shook his head no, "you better be on something...I'm gonna cum in you till you beg me to stop..." he moaned.

She chuckled, leaning into his ear, "yeah? Am I gonna be sitting in pools of your cum?"

"Fuck yeah you are." He told her, "f-from every fuckin hole, starting with you're mouth."

She was taken back both by comment. He stood up as she looked up at him, his cock in her face, she moved forward, her lips brushing against his cock as she licked his tip, the taste of Pre-Cum now on her touange.

"Salty..." she teased kissing down his shaft, her hand wrapping around his base. Looking up at him his face was flushed, yet still held a determined look of lust in his eye.

Pulling back to the tip of his cock she kissed the tip, opening her mouth she pushed his tip in, her hands resting on his hips.

Fuck does he feel so good down my throat, Y/n thought, her eyes closed as she moaned, bobbing her head almost instantly causing Hunter to groan.

"Easy doll. You don't wanna choke." He teased, watching her bobbing increase he moaned loudly, her pace only increasing, "Maker you know to suck cock- s-shit-"

Y/n pulled away jacking his siliva covered cock off, "H-hunter fill me with your cum please. I wanna be in a pool of your cum."

He covered his mouth, what the fuck., but he wasnt complaining, watching her deep throat him again he groaned, his hips starting to pool back and thrust, and as soon as he knew it he was holding the back of her head, mouth fucking her hard.

"Yeah baby take it all...like a little slut take it all for me." He moaned, " hell- I'm-"

Hunter hit deep inside her mouth, cumming down her throat, mid way pulling out letting the rest coat her face.

"H-hunter!" She meweled, but he covered her mouth, not wanting anyone to hear.

She swallowed his cum, groaning into his hand as he pulled his hand away.

"They can't hear us..." she panted, cum covered her face and mixed with her drool as she tried to catch her breath, "t-the walls are solid concrete..."

"Well then...I suppose I will be making you scream..." he panted as she bit her lip, looking down at her he chuckled.

Face covered in cum, running down her lips and chin, her breast perky, marks already starting to form on her neck, her panties down to her knees as she sat waiting for him, flushed and horny.

"Maker I can not wait to put my cock in that tight pussy of your's." He told her, his thumb holding her chin.

"Then do it. Fuck me till you can't cum no more" she begged, watching him kneel down infront of her, causing him to chuckle.

"I want a taste of you first." He told her.

Pulling her panties off she bit her lip as he grabbed her legs roughly by the back of her knees, spreading them from one another, she shifted in her spot, allowing her legs to spread a bit wider and give him a better veiw. Hunter didn't bother teasing her, her pussy soaked and aching as he dived in, eating at her clit.

"F-fuck Hunter!" She cried, her back arching as she gripped onto his hair immediately.

Y/n was in heaven, Hunter between her legs completely devoring her.

"Baby so sweet..." he moaned into her cunt, licking up every bit of her fluid he could, shoving his touange deep inside her.

"Oh- maker! Fuck me! Please fuck me!" She begged, his fingers joining his touange deep inside her, as an incoherent mewel escaped her lips, his fingers thrusting deep inside her.

"Come on baby..squirt for me i wanna taste it." He whispered against her cunt.

"H-holy shit!" Y/n exclaimed, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, eating her raw her back arched and her legs squeezed together but he pulled away, spanking her on the back of the thigh.

"Do that again and I'll stop eating you out and fuck you until you're raw." Hunter deamnded, she nodded mindlessly, as he went back to devoring her.

Her pussy pulsating as he shoved his touange deep insider her, his fingers competing for space.

"H-hunter..." she whined, feeling like she was to snap, "H-Hunter- Hunter! Hunter!"

She squirted into his mouth, her legs squeezing together in pleasure.

"F-fuck!" She moaned, back arching as her legs shook, "F-fuck,"

He pulled away from her, flicking her clit with his fingers intesifiying her orgaism. Moaning loudly she watched him getting up to his knees he leaned over her grabbing her face.

"I told you if you closed your legs again I'd fuck you until your raw." He argued as Y/n blushed deeply.

"I'm sorry sir..." she apologized, pussy still pulsating, still completely soaked with a mix of her own cum and his siliva.

"What did you call me?"

"S-sorry daddy." She apologized.

"Atleast you know your place."

Holy fuck, where did this Hunter come from? Not that she knew Hunter at all, but it was still a shock to see the 'dark and broody' man become such a sex addict that liked to be called daddy.

"You either call me daddy or sarge," he demanded grabbing her chin, "understand?"

She nodded in response.

"I can't hear you."

"Yes daddy."

"Good girl..." he praised, "the better you are the more cum you'll get, understand?"

"Yes daddy."

He spred her legs open again, his knees resting on the bean bag below her as he lined himself up with her soaked entrence. Pushing his tip in her she moaned loudly, her feet resting on his hips, he chuckled, grabbing her hips tightly he shoved himself in her fully.

"F-fuck!" She cried out, "Oh maker yes!"

He started beating into her without warning, she crying out in pleasure as her body shook.

"D-daddy so rough! Oh-yes!" She shouted.

"Touch yourself While I fuck you," he demanded, her hand hand reaching between her legs,rubbing her clit while he fucked her senseless, "Good girl, looks like someone wants to be filled with cum."

She moaned nodding her head in the process as he beating balls deep into her, hearing his cum filled balls slapping against her soaked skin.

"F-fuck daddy please!" She begged, one of his hands finding the back of her hair as he gripped it, arching her over.

"Please what baby girl? Come on. Tell daddy what you want."

"P-please cum in me!" She cried drooling in pleasure, he groaned her tight pussy walls clenching around him, "H-Hunter!"

Moaning heavily he gripped her hair tighter, her free hand gripping his forearm as she bit her lip. The feeling built up in her stomach.

"Y-yeah! D-daddy! Daddy make me cum!" She begged, he watched her come unraveled, beating into her roughly her back arched, toes curling as she moaned loudly, soaking his cock as she squirted onto him, he pulled out of her, rubbing her clit intesifiying her orgaism.

"Oh- Shit!" She cried, the quicker he rubbing her clit more she squirted, slipping back into her he delievered a few hard thrust as she cried out, pulling out once more her orgaism intense as she held her legs open.

"Fuck daddy!" She cried.

"Come on baby let it all out." He praised, slipping into her again and fucking her roughly for a few more thrust, pulling out once more as she squirted the last she could.

"H-hunter- Hunter!"

"Shh baby. Shh." He spoke leaning kissing her roughly she kissed back, pulling away he looked down at her, "You still need my cum in you huh baby?"

"Mhmm, yes please." She begged.

"Good girl." He praised, kissing her sloppily as she groaned.

Pulling away she held onto his arm as he pushed his way back into her, causing her to mewel out his name.

"What a perfect little pussy." He told her, starting to thrust into her, his hand rest at the side of her throat as his thumb pulled her chin down, she wore a curled smile with a deep blush, her pupils dialted wide and pupils seemingly in the shape of hearts.

"H-hunter...daddy..." she meweled.

He grunted down a groan, feeling himself starting to become unraveled, "pussys still tight for me,fuck-"

His gripp tightned around her neck, causing her to choke slightly, as his thrust became sloppy, becoming increasingly rougher as her moans grew louder once more. Loosing rythem he pulled his hand away from her neck, his hands gripping her hips for leverage as he pulled them against his thrust, groaning loudly he still beat into her harshly, his cock pulsating in her. She begged for him to creampie her, her hands finding his hair as she tugged and pulled.

"Ah! Fuck! Yeah! Fuck!" He groaned, "Oh! OH!"

He shoved himself deep inside of her keeping her steady as her back arched, his own body arching into her's as he released a massive load of cum into her.

"Oh! Fuck yeah!" He groaned, completely loosing control, contuining his rough thrust.

"H-hunter! Hunter! Holy shit!" She cried out.

"Fuck Im cumming again!"

"H-hunter! Fuck!" A second smaller load was shot into her, filling her womb with his hot seed as he held her hips tight, rocking into her steadily as to make sure he stuffed her. He panted heavily, his ears seemingly ringing as he looked down at her.

Her mouth agape as she breathed heavily, her breast rising and falling with heavy pants.

"Good girl..." Hunter praised, slolwy pulling out of her, Y/n letting out the last of her soft moans.

He panted heavily, his hands spreading her legs as she ended up holding her legs open by her inner thighs, Hunter watches the thick cum leaked out of her, cum covering her pussy folds.

"Good girl." Hunter praised, a few of his fingers scooping up some of the cum as she opened her mouth, letting it sloppily leak from Hunter's hand to her mouth and face, "Now, turn over on all fours, Im not done with you yet."

#sw tbb hunter #hunter x you #hunter x reader #hunter smut #hunter x female reader #hunter x y/n #the bad batch hunter #hunter star wars #star wars hunter #hunter the bad batch #x reader smut

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arvinsescape · 3 years

Text

Miscommunication

A/N: Longer one! I really enjoyed writing this one! I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Harrison has an idea which leads to Tom and reader enganging in a friends with benefits relationship and as always is the case manage to miscommunicate their feelings.

Warnings: Mentions of drugs (Weed smoking, i do not judge but please be safe if engaging in drug use), smut, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), threesome, high sex (minors DNI) and swearing.

W/C: 7K.

You’d been friends with Tom and Harrison for years, you were the only girl that lived with the boys and you loved it. Although you were close to the other boys, nothing really compared to how close you were with Tom and Haz. Mostly Tom, it’d always been different between the two of you, but recently it’d been awkward. Of course having somewhat of an undisclosed friends with benefits relationship would do that to you. You’d both been trying however to make things less awkward and tried your hardest to keep things normal, not that that was working.

You remembered how this had all started, a couple years back you, Haz and Tom had been smoking some weed, not that it was something any of you did anymore but you know being young and all that. It was a rare night that it was just the three of you in and Haz had suggested doing it. It was all going as usual; it wasn’t like you’d not smoked it together before. You and Tom were more flirty than usual with each other but nothing necessarily out of the ordinary.

“Do you wanna know what I miss?” Harrison suddenly said as he took a drag of the joint before passing it to you.

“What’s that?” Tom asked as you passed him the joint after taking a couple drags yourself. You could all feel that familiar buzz of being high.

“Sex.” Harrison said and you and Tom hummed in agreement.

“God, yeah. I don’t think I’ve had a date who’s managed to finish me off recently.” You laughed.

“Selfish fuckers.” Tom muttered, passing the joint back to Harrison.

“Seriously? You’ve not gotten off?” Harrison asked.

“Well yeah but not because of another man, all my own work.” You laughed, when you said you were close to the boys, you really meant it. You literally discussed everything.

“That’s ridiculous! You should get them told!” Harrison said loudly before passing the joint back to you. You took a few drags before passing it back to Tom.

“No point. Most of them got themselves off and left before I had a chance.” You muttered.

“You mean they didn’t even engage in foreplay?” Tom asked. You were all quite high at this point.

“Nope.” You said popping the ‘p’.

“I have an idea if you’re up for it?” Harrison said as he eyed you and Tom carefully.

“What?” Tom asked as he gave Harrison the last of the joint.

“We should have sex.” Harrison said and you laughed.

“What like a threesome?” You asked him as he stubbed out the joint.

“Yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We’re all close and I don’t see the harm. Don’t worry Y/N, I’m not gonna fall hopelessly in love with you.” He teased. You looked at Tom who’d been quiet.

“I mean I don’t know Haz. Wouldn’t that be crossing a line?” You asked. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, the idea of a good orgasm had you feeling quite horny. You’d heard enough from their past girlfriends to know you’d have a good time. You just worried it’d change the dynamic of the friendship.

“Y/N I have literally walked in on you getting yourself off before.” Harrison stated as you blushed at the memory. “It’d just be a one-time thing. We’ve literally all said we miss it and what kind of friends would we be if we didn’t help each other out?” Harrison said. You supposed he had a point. You were all close, having a seemingly unbreakable bond. “Tom? Thoughts?” Harrison asked.

“I mean I’m game. Only if you’re completely comfortable though darling?” He turned to you.

“Why the fuck not.” You threw your hands up as you let all the worries leave your mind.

“Come on then darling.” Tom said as he gave you a smile and held out his hand for you, which you gladly took. The three of making your way into your room. Harrison had plopped down onto your bed, already taking his shirt off. Before you could join him Tom took your hand and spun you back to face him.

You looked at him confused before he placed both his hands on your face and looked into your eyes, almost like he was searching for something but at this point both your eyes were dilated so you wasn’t sure what it was. “Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked, so that’s what he was looking for, any hesitation. He wasn’t going to find it.

“I’m sure.” You smiled back at him as he grinned. He leant forward carefully and connected your lips; it was almost explosive. It felt good, in a way you hadn’t expected it to. Not that you didn’t think kissing Tom would feel good, you just didn’t think it’d be this good. You decided that it might have been the buzz from the weed and the sensation of having someone kiss you properly for the first time in a while.

He backed you up carefully until the backs of your knees hit the bed. That’s when you suddenly remembered Harrison as he took the back of you hips in his hands and pulled you to sit next to him. Your lips left Tom’s and you instantly missed them.

Harrisons lips peppered kisses down your neck and you rolled your head to the side allowing him more access. His hands went to the hem of your shirt and he pulled it over your head. He easily unclasped your bra and threw both garments onto the floor. He was still kissing your neck when your eyes met Tom’s. He was looking at you in a way you couldn’t decipher.

You reached a hand out to him and he took it before you pulled him closer to you. You missed his touch in a way you’d rather not think about. Probably the weed and the flirtatious relationship you had with him. Harrison shifted over on the bed to take his sweats off and Tom joined you at your other side.

Weed sensations or not, kissing Tom felt good and you couldn’t help but pull him back in for another kiss. You felt him smile into it as he pushed you lightly to lie on your back. He climbed on top of you, straddling you and disconnected your lips for a second to take his own shirt off. That’s when you felt Harrison remove your shorts. He placed a few kisses to your calves as he went. Tom had brought his lips to your neck as he sucked and licked at the base of it. This elicited the first moan from you.

“Fuck.” Tom muttered as he moved his lips further up your neck, kissing, biting and licking as he went. Harrison reappeared at the side of you both, he was led on his side looking at you both, completely naked now and you were just in your underwear.

“What do you want Y/N/N?” Harrison asked and you looked at him for a moment. You had both of them and like previously mentioned, you’d heard things from previous girlfriends about how good they both were and not just with their cocks. You licked your lips as you felt your mouth go dry.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” You answered honestly, you really didn’t, you could feel yourself dripping in anticipation.

“Want me to go down on you or Tom?” He asked and Tom’s eyes suddenly snapped to yours. You’d once had one of Harrison’s girlfriends tell you how it was something he was very good at and this was about pleasure right? So you started there.

“You.” You answered as you looked back at Harrison. He gave a small nod and a quick peck on the forehead, almost headbutting Tom in the process. “Sorry mate.” He muttered as you laughed. Tom moved off you and essentially took Harrisons spot. He went back to kissing your neck and it made you let out quiet whimpers. Tom groaned. You felt as Harrison took your underwear off and moaned when his tongue licked a hot stripe through your heat. “Fuck.” You muttered. Tom continued his assault on your neck, he’d found your sweet spot now and it made the whole experience that much more mind blowing.

Harrison brought his mouth to your clit and licked gently. It sent fire coursing through you and you moaned again. He continued to lick and suck in a way that made your orgasm build in a steady manner. Fuck, it felt amazing. Tom brought his hand to your breast and rolled your nipple between his fingers only adding to the sensation, you were a moaning mess. Tom trailed his kisses up your neck to your ear.

“You sound so fucking pretty.” He groaned into your ear and it sent shivers down your spine. His voice was husky and full of lust. Harrison brought two fingers down to your dripping heat and inserted them as Tom kissed back down your body. He took the breast he wasn’t holding into his mouth and sucked and licked at your nipple.

You’d never felt pleasure like it and it clouded your mind completely. Harrison felt you tightening around his fingers and disconnected his mouth for a second.

“You gonna come Y/N/N?” He asked you frantically nodded. He laughed lightly as he brought his mouth back down to your clit, sucking more harshly, you could feel that familiar coil tightening inside you and it was far better than when you’d gotten yourself off. Harrison had been building you up slowly and you knew your orgasm was going to be earth shattering.

You couldn’t explain what was going through your mind but you wanted Tom to say something to you again. There was something about the way he spoke that sent shivers down your spine in a way you’d not experienced before, it was like its own form of pleasure. You couldn’t stop yourself as you tugged on his hair and brought him back up to your face.

He looked at you confused for a second before he leant down and whispered in your ear.

“What do you need?” It was so husky and filled with lust that it almost rendered you speechless.

“I want- talk to me Tom.” You mumbled back. He chuckled and it sounded so smug that if it was any other situation you’d have smacked him lightly on the head.

“You like it when I tell you how pretty your moans are? How fucking hot you sound. Could listen to these moans all day princess.” Princess that sent a wave of pleasure straight to your centre. Harrison was continuing his assault with his fingers and mouth and you were so close to the edge at this point, that coil was wound so tight at this point, you just needed a small push into oblivion. “You gonna come for Harrison? Be a good girl and come for him?”

“I’ve got you princess, come on, let go.” There it was. That shove off the edge of a cliff that sent you crashing into the waves beneath. You were a moaning mess as the pleasure took over, you could feel your legs shaking as Harrison rode you through your high with his fingers as Tom continued to whisper into your ear. It was quite possibly the longest orgasm you’d ever had.

“Such a good girl. So good for Harrison princess. That’s right, tell him how good he’s making you feel.” His words had such an effect on that you couldn’t really describe it. How could someone turn you on so much just by talking? You wondered if Tom could bring you to an orgasm just by talking to you. Again though, could be the weed and the sensation Harrison had given you. You didn’t dwell on it too much.

When you came down from your high, Harrison had re-joined you at the top of the bed and Tom was now as naked as the two of you.

“How was that? Please tell me that made up for some of those shitty experiences with those selfish fuckers?” Harrison laughed as he moved a stray piece of hair out of your face.

“Amazing, thank you.” You answered.

“Make sure you don’t settle for less in future. That’s how all those men should be treating you.” Harrison said sincerely. You smiled at him and he leant down to kiss you. You could lightly taste yourself on him. He sat up against the headboard and you followed.

“So who do you want inside you?” Harrison asked as Tom sat next to you, he was placing open mouthed kisses against your shoulder blade. You wondered for a moment if he felt something a bit more in this moment but quickly shook it off.

“Tom. Seems fair, I picked you last time.” You answered and Harrison laughed and you thought you felt Tom tense slightly next to you but you couldn’t decipher why and you were all still high so maybe you were imagining it.

“True. You okay giving blowjobs?” Harrison asked. “Or is that something you don’t enjoy? It’s okay if not.” He said sincerely.

“No I’m good. I quite like it.” You laughed.

Tom moved you so you were on your front and Harrison moved himself so you could take his cock into your mouth. Tom lifted your hips up and you felt his breath against your ear again as he leant over you. “You want me to wear a condom?” He asked as he kissed your temple.

“Nah, I’m on the pill.” You said and he groaned before moving himself back up. His hands were on your hips and he slipped into you. Fuck, that felt good.

“Shit, fuck. You’re tight.” Tom moaned. You took Harrison’s length into your mouth as you began to slowly lick and suck his cock as he threw his head back in pleasure as he moaned. You were moaning around him every time Tom’s hips snapped back to your own. You reached down to play with Harrisons balls as his hips moved off the bed, shoving his length further down your throat.

“Fuck me, that’s good.” He moaned. You could feel that coil again and you sucked and licked Harrisons cock to bring him further to the edge, his hands were in your hair now. Your clit was aching again and you felt yourself tighten around Tom which made him moan out.

“Shit Y/N/N, I’m gonna come.” Harrison warned and you continued until you felt hot streams of his come enter your mouth and you swallowed, slowly bringing him down from his high. He slipped from your mouth and calmed himself down. You were so close.

Before you could process what was happening, Tom was leant over you again, lips pressed back to your ear as his hips continued to snap into you, it was fast and hard.

“Taking me so well princess. Wanna feel you come around my cock.” His hand snaked round and started rubbing your clit, causing you to cry out. You were tightening around him as you came closer and closer to your high. “Come on princess, come for me. I’ve got you. Fuck. Come around my cock darling, come on.” It was all the invitation you needed as you reached your second high of the night. Tom following shortly after with a moan of your name.

Once you’d all calmed down and cleaned up you thought it was going to be awkward but it wasn’t.

“Dam, that was fucking good.” Harrison said and you and Tom hummed in agreement. “Don’t worry Y/N/N, I’m not hopelessly in love with you now.” Harrison teased and you laughed as you punched his arm.

“Thank you. That was amazing.” You said.

“It sure was. Just what we all needed I think. I should become a doctor, finding the remedy for shit.” Harrison spoke as you laughed. Tom had been quiet but he looked content enough.

“Tom, you okay?” You asked, it was like you’d pulled him from his thoughts as he looked at you.

“Yeah, that was incredible.” He said before pulling you into his chest. He kissed the top of your head.

“Well, I’m fucking starving, I’ll see you two tomorrow.” Harrison said as he got off the bed and dressed himself, leaving the room.

When you went to speak to Tom again he was asleep. You stayed like that all night, sleeping in each other’s embrace and you couldn’t help the small smile that you had on your face.

It was an amazing night, Tom and Harrison definitely making up for the orgasms you’d not received. That was it for you and Haz, it never happened again, six months later he got together with his current girlfriend. Nothing between you and Haz changed, it all stayed the same. You and Harrison had spoken about how fun it was as if it you’d just been to the cinema together.

You and Tom however, didn’t talk about it and you thought for a while he regretted it. Until a month later.

You’d found yourself with Tom again. Harrison out on a date and the other boys had gone out for the night. You were yet again in the living room smoking weed.

“So the other night was fun.” Tom said and you furrowed your brows.

“The other night?” You wanted clarification. You’d not done anything recently.

“You, me and Haz.” He said as he took the joint from you before taking a drag.

“That was like a month ago! I thought you meant something more recently.” You laughed.

“Still fun though.” Tom shrugged his shoulders. Your feelings for Tom had recently taken a bit of a turn, shifting from platonic. You started to notice just how attractive he was, not that you hadn’t always found him attractive but recently it was the little things.

“It was.” You agreed pulling yourself from your thoughts. You had that familiar buzz.

“You and Haz done it since?” He asked as he handed you the joint shifting closer to you.

“No.” You said as you caught his eye. You were staring at each other now. “Why?” You asked.

“Just curious.” He said as he reached over and played with a strand of your hair.

“Would you have been jealous if I’d have said yes?” You teased and he shrugged.

“Not necessarily. Just wondered if it was something you’d be into again.” He said.

“I think Haz might have a girlfriend.” You laughed.

“Well he’s going on a few dates with her but I don’t think he’s asked her out yet.” Tom rambled. “But I wasn’t necessarily talking about it being all three of us again.”

“What me and you?” You asked as you blew smoke out of your lips and passed him the joint back.

“Well yeah. It was fun and nothing bad came out of it.” Tom shrugged in response.

“No strings attached?” You said, you should’ve known this wouldn’t end well.

“No strings attached.” He’d agreed.

And you did it again. And again. And again until you lost count. You always found yourself in the same position, you’d smoke weed, you’d fuck and you’d continue to not talk about it in between. The no strings attached didn’t last very long and you found yourself in love with the brown eyed, brown haired boy. Until a year ago every time you slept with each other it’d involved weed, until you both decided to knock it on the head and you were sure that’d be the end of your late nights. That didn’t last long either.

“I miss what we used to do when we were high you know?” Tom said one night when you were watching a film in your room.

“What the ridiculous conversations or the fucking?” You laughed.

“Don’t say it like that. Makes it sound like I don’t care at all.” Tom groaned. Your heart started racing at that.

“What you mean you had feelings?” You asked carefully. Was he trying to say he felt the same?

“You are my best friend love. Of course I care. Fucking makes it sound like a completely meaningless experience.” He clarified.

“What would you call it then? Making love?” You teased but you were hoping he’d see through it.

“Well no but I wouldn’t calling it fucking either. Having sex, let’s just settle on that.” Oh. Your heart sunk he didn’t feel the same.

“Why you bringing it up?” You asked.

“I told you. I miss doing it.” He shrugged.

“Okay but why bring it up just to say that?” You asked cautiously.

“I don’t know was thinking we could carry on, well whatever it was.” He said.

You’re not sure what made you agree in that moment, you knew it wouldn’t be a good idea with you being in love with him and him basically admitting he wasn’t with you. Not in the same way anyway. But you did and it was fun but it did nothing for your feelings towards him, if anything it made being normal with him hard, fighting the urge to kiss him at random points during the day. It wasn’t so bad as usually you’d cuddle after your encounters, which had always led you to believe he maybe felt something more for you and you could live out your little fantasy but six months ago things took a different shift.

Tom was on top of you, and he was sucking your sweet spot that he had become very accustomed with. You were moaning in pleasure. You were both naked and he had his fingers pounding in and out of you. He brought his thumb up to your clit as he rubbed and that coil was back.

“So good for me princess.” That nickname was going to kill you, you were sure of it. “Gonna come? Be a good girl and come for me. Wanna hear those pretty sounds you make.” You moaned out his name as you went crashing through your high. You panicked for a second because you’d never said his name before. It was always on the tip of our tongue but you always bit it back. He moved his face to look at you and kissed your cheek, the panic settling. He brought you down from your high as you regained your breath.

You pushed him back down onto the bed as you climbed on top of him. You sunk down onto his length and you both sighed in pleasure. You gave yourself a minute before you started rolling your hips against him. Fuck he felt good. You moaned as you lost yourself in the pleasure and you couldn’t bite his name back anymore.

“Fuck Tom, that feels so good.” He moaned in response as he moved to sit up. He brought his arms around your waist and before you could ask him what he was doing, your back hit the mattress and he followed, not slipping out of you. You thought he was going to move again but he didn’t and you couldn’t help but stare into his beautiful and soft brown eyes. You were so in love with him it made your heart ache.

“You’re so beautiful.” He muttered as he ran a finger down your cheek and you closed your eyes at his softness. This felt like new territory and you tried not to get swept up in it. He doesn’t feel the same. You could feel the tears building but bit your lip to hold them back. He was yours. In these short moments he was yours you had to keep reminding yourself. He still hadn’t moved.

He rolled his hips slowly against yours, this was new. Normally it was quick thrusts to each other chasing highs. Your heart swelled slightly, it felt good. “Fuck b- princess you feel so good around me.” Did he nearly say something else? You couldn’t be sure; your mind was clouded with pleasure. He continued rocking his hips slowly against yours.

He grasped your hand in his and moved it them next to your head on the bed, interlocking your fingers. This was definitely new and it almost fixed the ache in your chest for him. He rutted his hips against yours and you were moaning against him, he was completely consuming your thoughts and you couldn’t stop the string of moans laced with his name.

“Fuck princess.” His thrusts were getting harder and sloppier now. “Fucking feel amazing for me. So pretty, fucking gorgeous.” His words were having a new effect on you and the coil in your stomach tightened so fast. “Shit.” Tom moaned as he brought his free hand down to your clit and rubbed furiously. You moaned his name again. “Fuck princess. Y/N/N, I’m gonna come. Fuck baby!” He moaned as he spilled into you.

That name was all it took as your coil snapped and you were thrown into one of the most mind-blowing orgasms you’d ever had. It hit you hard and you swear you heard Tom say something but you didn’t hear it, so consumed with pleasure, it had completely taken over as he rode you through your highs.

He pulled out and cleaned you both up fast as lightening. You were still breathing hard. You waited for him to join you like he usually did, but he didn’t. When you looked at him he was getting dressed and before you could say anything he’d gone. You’d felt the shift in that encounter, it felt, loving? But you must have been wrong.

You’d had to go and stay with a friend for a week after it happened. You cried for four days before you stopped, needing another three days to work up the courage to face Tom again. Harrison had rung you on the second day.

“Where are you?” He asked concerned.

“At Lisa’s.” You said.

“Why?”

“I just, look I need a breather.” You said as you sniffled.

“What’s happened?” He asked voice full of concern.

“Me and Tom carried on sleeping together.” You said.

“Yeah, I know he told me last year.” Harrison said. “But wait I thought you’d stopped?” He asked.

“No.” You felt tears again. “We carried on an for months Haz, I’m in love with him.” You told him.

“Oh.” Was all you got back. “Did you tell him?”

“No but last time we had sex it felt different like I don’t know more tender, loving? But he just left straight after and I know I shouldn’t be upset but it just hurt.”

Harrison sighed at the other end.

“Have you talked to Tom?” He asked carefully.

“No, I don’t want to yet.” You said.

“You should talk to him.” Was all he said before you both said your goodbyes.

You’d worked up the courage to talk to him, you figured your relationship was already going to be awkward so you decided to take the bull by the horns.

You returned back to the house greeting all the boys as you sat next to Harrison on the couch.

“Where’s Tom?” You asked him and he looked at you with a sad smile.

“Upstairs.” He said. “With his new girlfriend.” Your heart shattered.

It’d been awkward for the last few months; you and Tom didn’t really talk much anymore and you hated this place you’d found yourself in. You wanted more than anything to talk to him, get back to normal but you weren’t sure that was achievable anymore.

“Okay never have I ever?” Harry suggested, ripping you from your thoughts. You were currently engaged in a drinking night with all the boys and their respective girlfriends. It was a little awkward because the boys didn’t really like Tom’s new girlfriend, she seemed off but none of you could put your finger on it.

“I’m game.” Tom’s girlfriend said as she eyed you. This confused you but you let it go. You knew she didn’t like you.

“Sure.” You shrugged and the rest agreed.

You went a few rounds; the typical questions being asked until it was Tom’s girlfriends turn. She eyed you in a way you couldn’t put your finger on.

“Never have I ever had high sex with another person in this room.” She said and she smiled smugly at you. You knew the only other person that knew of your sleeping arrangements was Harrison’s girlfriend. What was she doing? Tom looked at her carefully and Harrison looked at you. You didn’t do anything.

“Come on Y/N. It’s no fun if you lie.” She taunted you.

“What are you on about? She hasn’t slept with anyone in this room.” Harry defended you.

“Has she not? Come on, let’s play fair.” She taunted and Tom looked at you.

“Oh fuck it.” Harrison whispered before downing his drink.

“WHAT? No way” Tuwaine suddenly said. “You and Y/N? I though it’d have been Tom if anyone” He said. You gulped, you couldn’t break eye contact with Tom for a second. Haz’s girlfriend was eyeing Tom’s carefully. What was she doing?

“It was a one-time thing.” Harrison shrugged. “Next question.” Harrison quickly tried to move on.

“Wait a second because that’s not entirely true is it?” Tom’s girlfriend said again. You couldn’t keep your eyes from Tom’s.

“Drop it yeah? It’s obviously and uncomfortable topic.” Harry said suddenly feeling the tension.

“Fine. I have another question anyway.” She smirked.

“Fucking hell.” Sam grumbled next to you.

“Babe.” Tom warned, trying to get her to stop.

“No, I mean I wanna see her drink, she didn’t drink to that last one which was unfair and not at all the aim of the game.”

“Seriously leave it.” Olivia, Harrisons girlfriend said.

“Fucking hell it’s no fun if you don’t get the real secrets out is it? Never have I ever been in a friends with benefits relationship with another person in this room. Harrison said it was a one-time thing so he can’t help her this time. Just be honest, it’s not like it’ll matter.” She sneered and Tom looked at you and you were almost begging him for help with your eyes.

“Okay, maybe we leave this yeah? It was a dumb idea.” Harry said. “Whoever did or didn’t have a friends with benefits relationship isn’t our business.”

“You’re not even curious?” Tom’s girlfriend laughed. You really hated this woman.

“No. I’m not.” Harry and Tuwaine said in unison. The tension was unbelievably high at this point and everyone could feel it.

“You don’t need to embarrass her like that. If she doesn’t want everyone to know she doesn’t want everyone to know.” Sam said.

“I’m not just embarrassing her though in fairness, Tom care to say anything?” She suddenly turned to him and his face dropped.

“What are you doing? I told you that in confidence.” Tom said slowly. Everyone was eyeing the two of you now. They all knew there was tension they just didn’t know why. Until now and suddenly your feelings for him were becoming more obvious, the boys weren’t stupid, you knew they’d know.

“I think that’s enough.” Harrison warned. You felt tears in your eyes and Tom’s girlfriend eyed you one last time before smiling in a way that made your stomach sink.

“Never have I ever been in love with Tom Holland and currently still are.” She said as she sipped her drink, eyes not leaving yours.

You slammed your drink down as you felt the tears leave your eyes. You were incredibly embarrassed and your heart hurt. As you left the room you heard a chorus of different responses, everyone was pissed.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Harrison.

“That was low.” Sam.

“Why would you do that?” Harry.

“That was fucking rude.” Tuwaine. Not a single word from Tom. You ran up to your bedroom and slammed the door, tears now falling fast and hard down your face. You heard a knock at the door.

“Not in the mood.” You called back.

“Y/N/N. It’s me.” Olivia said. You could trust her, you’d grown as close to her as you had Harrison, she was lovely and she had come to you when Harrison had told her about that night and let you know she was okay about it. You knew she’d listen and not judge. You mumbled a quiet ‘come in.’

“Are you okay?” She said quietly as she shut the door and made her way onto the bed taking you into her arms.

“No.” You cried.

“She had no right to do that. I’m so sorry. Harrison is giving her a right earful.” She laughed and it pulled a half-hearted laugh from you.

“What is her problem? I didn’t do anything to her.”

“Jealous I would have thought.”

“Why? She’s his girlfriend not me.”

“I know.”

“It was always different with me and Tom.” You said, you’d never really discussed your encounters with Tom, choosing to keep them a secret.

“How’d you mean?” She asked as she rubbed your back.

“Like when we all slept together, you know Harrison included, Haz left he wanted food but Tom stayed with me. He cuddled me all night. There wasn’t an encounter that didn’t involve falling asleep together and I thought maybe that meant something. Me and Haz actually talked about what happened but me and Tom never did, not unless it was to start up again and even then it wasn’t a proper conversation. It just always felt like something more was there you know, but neither of us said anything.” You cried before taking a deep breath to continue your rant.

“I thought maybe he felt the same but then I’m pretty sure he outright denied it. I don’t know why I kept sleeping with him. It was like I was addicted to the heart break because while we were having sex it was like I could have him. Then the day after I’d find myself crying over the boy I’d continually let break my heart.” You cried into her shoulder and it felt good to get it off your chest.

“He was in love with you, you know.” Olivia said quietly and you raised your head eyebrows furrowed.

“What?”

“He told Haz, about a year ago.” She clarified.

“I know Tom told me last year.”

“Did you tell him?”

“You should talk to him.”

You remembered what Harrison had said and hadn’t thought much of it until now.

“Not anymore.” You said.

“Well I don’t know for certain and he hasn’t said anything to Haz but I’m pretty sure he is.” Olivia said and you furrowed your brows. You heard a knock on your door and sniffled again. Olivia got up to see who was interrupting the heart to heart.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea you coming in here.” Olivia said softly.

“Just let me talk to her Olivia. Please?” Tom.

Olivia looked back at you and you sighed but nodded. She let him in and he slowly made his way over to you. He sat next to you awkwardly and Olivia looked at you.

“You gonna be okay?” She asked.

“Yeah.” You nodded and sniffled.

“Okay, I’m gonna make sure dickhead is gone.” She said before turning to Tom. “No offence Tom.” She added and Tom waved her off with a small laugh as she left.

It was awkward and you didn’t know what to say. You were thankful he spoke first.

“Okay, to save more miscommunication. I heard everything you said.” He said slowly.

“Oh.” You said.

“Which means I also heard what Olivia told you.” He added and you looked at him.

“It’s okay Tom. You don’t feel the same anymore, it’s okay I’ll get over it.” You shrugged. You wanted to save yourself some heartbreak.

“You don’t know I’m here to say that.” He reasoned and you sniffled as a fresh wave of tears came.

“Please don’t try and let me down gently Tom. That’ll hurt more.” You cried and he wrapped his arms around you and pulled your head into his lap, running his fingers through your hair.

“You didn’t hear what I said six months ago?” He asked and you turned to look up at him eyebrows furrowed, still sniffling.

“What? You didn’t say anything?” You were confused now.

“I told you I was in love with you. That’s why I left.” He clarified.

It hit you hard and you swear you heard Tom say something but you didn’t hear it.

“That’s what you said? I never heard you.”

“Oh.” Tom sighed as he stroked his finger across your cheek.

“Why’d you leave?”

“I was so fucking scared you wouldn’t feel the same. I thought I’d just ruined everything but I couldn’t help it, I let it slip.” He sighed.

“How could you not know I was in love with you?” You asked.

“I could ask you the same.” He said with a small laugh.

“I thought- when I made the joke about making love and you said you wouldn’t call it that, I just assumed.”

“I didn’t wanna ruin it Y/N/N. You said you continually let me break your heart but did you ever stop for a second to think that maybe I was doing the same with you?” He asked as he smiled at you. You sat up as you looked at him. Had you really miscommunicated so badly?

“Then you left.” Tom continued. “I thought you’d heard me and done a runner because you didn’t feel the same. I felt so heartbroken and I couldn’t bare to ring you and hear you say it so I thought I could just date someone else and maybe my feelings would go away. Dick move I know, but that didn’t work.” He smiled sadly at you and you lent your head against his shoulder.

“So that last time was different?” You asked.

“Baby, I was making love to you. I let myself go there for the first time, you said my name and it drove me fucking crazy so I let myself actually make love to you and then I fucking spilled my feelings for you and now look where we are.” He laughed and you joined him. Baby that made your heart do a backflip.

“I still don’t understand why that made your girlfriend so mad. I mean unless you told her you were in love with me.” You said.

“I didn’t tell her I was in love with you. She was sort of okay about it, didn’t want me to hang out with you as much and I hated myself for that but then I fucked up and tonight happened.” He said.

You furrowed your brows again. “Why? What did you do?” You pried.

“I said your name. In bed last night. I didn’t think she heard me because she didn’t say anything but she must have done.”

“Oh Tom.” You smiled as you took his face in your hands. You looked into his eyes and you couldn’t stop yourself, you closed the distance between the two of you and your lips connected. He took your face into his hands and smiled into the kiss. After a good few minutes he pulled away. “How long?” You asked and he furrowed his brows.

“What do you mean?”

“How long have you been in love with me?” You asked.

“Fuck, since just before the first time I ever slept with you.” He laughed. He’d been in love with you longer than you had him. That’s why he always fell asleep cuddling you, it was those looks you couldn’t decipher, it all made sense now.

“That’s when I started to get feelings for you.” You said and he nodded.

“I love you.” He said.

“I love you.” You smiled and he peppered your face with kisses before softly pushing you onto your back on the bed climbing on top of you. You smiled up at him.

“Wanna try the making love thing again? But properly this time?” He asked.

“Aren’t you still a taken man?” You sighed.

“Fuck no. Whether I was in love with you or not I wouldn’t have stayed with her after that shit. You’re still my best friend you know. Unless of course we’re talking about being taken by you.” He laughed and you joined him.

“You want me to be yours?” You smiled.

“Fucking hell, did i miscommunicate that badly as well.” He groaned as he laughed.

“You have my heart Tom, please don’t break it.”

“And you have mine. I promise i’ll never break it again.” He promised as he leant down and placed his lips over yours.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut

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oneoftheprettynerds · 3 years

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Worth The Eternity: Dark! Bucky x Reader (Vampire AU + Mob AU + Soulmate AU)

This is for @cherienymphe’s 5K Twilight Renaissance Writing Challenge. Congratulations, keep slaying! I wrote this instead of studying, so pray for my paper please lmao.

A/N: This tired girl tried.

WARNINGS: something between dubcon and noncon present. Triggering, darkish themes.

Summary of sorts: Ever seen Hotel Transylvania 1/2/3? In this AU, mythical creatures exist and have soulmates and you feel a zing if you are blessed enough to encounter them.

"Boss, we narrowed it down to these core three suspects.” A husky voice, slightly muffled by the sack on your head, entered your ears and you had a hard time being calm.

You had been picked up from your office, specifically the basement of Oscorp Industries while entering your sleek silver car. A pinch in your neck and everything comically blurred. Next thing you know, you are waking up with your entire body sore, your muscles and joints screaming and begging for freedom from tight restraints. Your vision is black, as if you are staring into an abyss and your vision is filled with white and red dancing spots forming patterns, maybe from the hours of inactivity.

Muffled noises of protest and scraping of metal against the concrete floor entered your ears and you realized you are not the only one here held captive. You racked your mind for possible explanations but couldn’t come up with one.

You lived a very simple life, even as the vice president of Oscorp industries. No messing around, no rivalries with other employees, no butting heads with the seniors on the Director’s board. Was this a ploy against the company? Or a domination statement against the weaker species, the humans?

Lucky enough for you, you realized you would soon find out as the sound of a shutter opening and metal clanking noisily filled your ears.

“Took you long enough, Scott. Fill me in.” Another brooding voice reprimanded jokingly and a million goosebumps traveled the path of your skin as you involuntarily shuddered.

“Yes Boss. We tracked the missing sum to the account of this man on the left. He has fourteen other accounts under different names and nationalities, pretty hard to trace but not impossible luckily. This proved he is shady so he’s most definitely involved.”

“This ginger on the right, he made the suspicious call with weird words so we believe he pretty much passed the verdict, calling the shots with the codewords. He has had several surgeries, his face is fucking silicon at this point but his DNA showed us his true identity, Mr. Rumlow here is the Consigliere of The Midnight Moon.”

You sat and listened, piecing together whatever you understood. The pack/mob name more than rung a bell, it scared you shitless. You were quick to catch on, realising that you were caught in an inter species scruffle.

“This shit just got interesting folks. Alright, where does Miss Sexy Legs fit in all this?”

The pencil skirt you wore wasn’t the most modest piece of clothing to exist and the spaghetti straps blouse was a bad choice considering the sheer coldness in this warehouse, the temperature only seemed to go down with the entry of your kidnappers but it’s not like you knew this was going to happen.

You could only assume with your legs on display that you were the one being sexualised and talked about.

“We are not sure about her though, that’s why I said suspects. We have proof the call was made from her phone but the videos show her lending it to a creepy stranger at a café. It might be really good acting but it’s highly unlikely. We brought her in because in the transfer of the stolen cash, her account was an intermediary but it’s a good chance that she was tricked when her phone was borrowed by Mr. Rumlow. Also, she’s a human, you see?”

If it was you being talked about, you felt a jot of relief, just a smudge because at least they were aware you weren’t involved in whatever game they were playing. That didn’t necessarily ensure your freedom, but hey, you were willing to take anything at that point.

“That’s the sweet fucking scent I keep on smelling!” The leader exclaimed as if he made a great discovery, a cure for a pandemic or cancer you’d think. His gruff voice almost had a light, cheery undertone to it, too unlike of a man who was wronged and cheated and was close to murdering someone no doubt. These mobsters are always maniacs like The Joker.

“It sucks that you brought her here. She might not be guilty, but now she knows too much. She’d make a good blood bag though. Maybe I’ll just have a taste, who knows?” The ‘boss’ made a disturbing slurping noise and your heart stopped at his words, a tear almost escaping your eye.

Discussion about drinking blood? You were most definitely in The Vamps territory, your assumption about the inter-species conflict true. You had no doubt you were the weakest in this creepy space, the frailest here, most probably the only human.

“Show me the bastards’ faces.” Like the flip of a switch, the joking man swapped his personality and all but growled. You heard the ripping of cloth and a man gagging, his shrieks muffled. Another flurry of movements and another man retching on the fabric could be heard.

“Well, hello Mr. Rumlow. I must say, brown suited you better.” A horde of chuckles made you widen your eyes, even though only black still filled your vision, as you realised there were at least a dozen twisted, sick men in the room. The fact that they were silent as fuck till now only showed you how disciplined and regimented these soldiers were.

“This one has a pretty face, boss.” You felt the sack ripped off you, and your eyes closed with the sudden flooding of the lights. Your eyes sealed due to hours of inactivity and you kept them shut, afraid to face your tormenter.

A cold hand cupped your cheek and straightened your face that was trying to hide itself in your silky locks by curling in your own neck, the cool metal of rings and insanely icy fingers chilling you literally.

“Open your eyes sweetheart.” A voice called out behind you and you gathered enough courage to face your impending doom, the air as silent as the calm before a storm.

Your orbs opened and gazed into piercing sapphire blue eyes and everything behind this chiseled face blurred. You could swear a ring of pink and red passed over his eyes and you shuddered again, getting overwhelmed due to the eye contact yourself. This wasn’t the usual anxiety you felt while meeting new people, it was somehow both a pull and a push. An inviting comforting pull and a terrifying, ‘stay cautious' push.

You, a self-sufficient woman, who had been independent for as long as you could remember, suddenly felt half; incomplete in a way that you couldn’t fathom. You felt an attraction, a tug towards the man in front of you, and the absurdity of the thoughts and emotions that popped in your brain made you heave on the gag.

Your intellect couldn’t find a reason, your view on love and romance until now completely conflicted. You believed soulmates to be separate pieces of art that complemented each other when together; then what was this broken jigsaw puzzle sentiment you were having now?

Your wide eyes somehow managed to break free of his stare, panicking and looking around to observe, which wasn’t comforting in the least as men with guns and gadgets filled your vision. You were relatively unharmed in comparison to the beaten lads beside you, one with a bruised face and the other with a bloody one.

The handsome man, the Boss’s stare didn’t leave you through the entirety of your searching around, you were sure they saw you as a scared little rabbit, waiting out its inevitable death.

“Lost in her eyes, Boss?” The sideman cracked what he believed to be the funniest joke in existence, earning laughs of the horde of the soldiers around.

Your eyes went to the Boss’s face, surprisingly when his left your face to glare a nasty stare on his trusted man. His muscular form raised the forelimb, his hand signaling to stop, that effectively quietened the room to a pin drop silence.

With gentle fingers, the man took off your gag and yours lips quivered, throat too dry to make a noise though. You greedily gulped the air through your mouth for whatever reason, maybe just to move your jaw after hours of inactivity.

Maintaining eye contact was challenging, arduous to say the least. It seemed as if he could read you, find everything about you there is to find by studying the flecks in your orbs. His delicate hands, loosened the ties and you were now more so confused, along with the trepidation.

Just what the fuck was going on?

Bucky had almost lost hope, centuries on this planet and no one to love and cherish, no personal confidante, no soulmate. But good things take time, right? And in his opinion, best things take an eternity. He knows this now.

Expect the unexpected was the truest phrase, idiom whatever it was, in this moment. He had spent countless nights wondering about his soulmate, was she pretty? Ugly? Was she even a she or not? Dumb or witty? He made a lot of scenarios of how they’d meet, the kids, reigning together. He entertained the idea of her being from a different species, a nymph, an orc, maybe a werewolf?

And now that he found her, it was a revelation, a surprise honestly. After all optimism got evaporated, after traveling the dark tunnel for centuries literally, there she was, his beacon of light. Finding her was a wonder, and her being a human was astonishing, a possibility he somehow failed to consider, but he was over the moon cause there she was, right in front of him now. A beautiful, stunning lady in flesh and blood, human flesh and blood, with the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. His zing.

He always liked humans, apart from the similar appearances the vampires shared with them, they were always docile and accommodating. In the last few millenniums, after the mythical creatures showed themselves to the world, the humans understood their place and tier pretty early.

They were smart to surrender and be peaceful as all the species came to light, clever to know that even with less numbers they could be overpowered and bloodshed was detrimental to all involved.

He knew he would convert you soon though, your lifespan far too short for his liking, and obviously, now that he found you, you were to rule together. For Centuries.

His happiness was over taken by the realisation that you were not in the most hospitable settings, you were tied and strapped, being preyed on by his men. He made quick work of the restraints, allowing you to breathe by loosening them first. Your scared, trembling form plucked his unbeating heart’s strings, but strangely enough, his brain found amusement and he felt smug. Seeing you tied up and trembling was definitely a turn on for him, noted.

After commanding his foolish men to stop giggling, he leaned closer to you, your aura comforting and intoxicating as he smelled your hair. A divine scent, an addictive one for sure. The goosebumps on your skin confirmed the reciprocation of his connection.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you.” His husky voice, calming but imposing resonated in your ears, his hand tapping your cheek on the other side. Even though the private statement was whispered for you, the deafening silence made every person witness it.

He leaned back, his hands behind his back as he grinned, tone again light like earlier and commanded, “Get her out of here and cleaned up, tell Nat and Wanda, they’ll know what I mean. Then we’ll deal with these guys here, after the lady leaves of course. No scratch on her from this point forward or you’ll lose a limb. Proceed.”

All three of you, the hostages were going to get ‘taken care of’ but in different ways.

It had been over twenty hours for sure, you were abducted in the early hours of the morning and now the moon was out again, like one endless night. You remember being escorted to a sleek black car; your limbs ached but you managed to keep up. You tried to keep up with the car’s turns, trying to memorize the streets but your head was pounding and eyes were blurry.

You remembered being led to a suite in an expensive hotel like ones where your conferences were held, being taken to room and given towels to clean up. You didn’t change the dress when given another, the attire being a summer dress even shorter. A woman came a while later named Wanda who checked the forming light contusions and scuffed skin with hands so delicate, as if you were precious cargo. You were, you just didn’t know.

You didn’t eat anything they provided and after hours of conspiring and overthinking, you heard sturdy footsteps. Since your arrival, only women bothered with you, probably the ones the leader sent. But these were heavier, harder.

The door opened and you glanced up to find the leader who demanded your locking up in this fancy place, his eyes travelling on your form sat up on bed, as you mindfully pulled your skirt down. You were anxious the entire day, dreading your future but nothing was like the restlessness that ran through you in this person’s presence.

Maybe it was the fact he was a vampire, or the leader of a Mob or maybe both, but whatever it was he intimidated you, alarmed you, even though you’ve had only two encounters including the present one. You were smart to be scared, he looked at you like, like you were something to eat, your mind told you.

“Hey.” His raspy voice caught you off guard, not having heard a single syllable out of the women the entire day, your questions being ignored the entire time.

You stared at him warily. Your mind having a myriad of emotions and thoughts. You didn’t want to trigger him, besides the place being armed well, he was a vampire, a beefy one at that and you would be stupid to try anything. Shouting and making a scene was no good either, your best option being the lamest one: to talk it out. You refused to become a willing blood bag.

You let out a long sigh, surprising him somehow, “Look, I have money, resources in the business sphere, information, what do you want? I know I got caught in this by accident, but I’m willing to do a lot of things to get out. Name it and I’ll do my best.” You said with your ‘business deal’ voice, the wise, guiding leader voice from your office.

For some reason though, the man found it hilarious. He slapped his hand on his chest, his boisterous laugh echoing. It wasn’t that good a joke if he believed it to be one. Men, ever so condescending.

“Humans, ever so gluttonous. I don’t want your money, precious.” His term of endearment didn’t fall short to your ears, but you had larger things in play here than a sweet nothing.

“I have other things to offer, name it.” Within your moral sphere, of course.

“You still don’t get it, do you? And you humans boast you have everything figured about us.”

He neared you and you leaned to the inner area of the bed, refusing to get cornered to the wall if things escalate and wanting to have the option of running away, probably in vain though. With each step he took, a new shudder ran through you because of the closing distance between your bodies, it getting triggered in unexplainable ways.

You didn’t need to say words to prompt him to explain, your scrunched eyebrows already doing that mission. “You should feel it too, you know? The goosebumps, the bewilderment in your insides, you’re intoxicated by my very presence too, aren’t you?”

The more he neared, your breaths quickened visibly, his words becoming truer. Your skin heating, mind losing a bit of consciousness. His presence didn’t affect you to this extent in the warehouse, but now? You were putty, almost incapable to think. You tried to roll over to the other side but your plan failed because he caged you with his bulky hands on your shoulder, body diagonal across yours. With how slow and out of it you were, he didn’t even need his heightened speed to trap you.

“Oh, it’s kicking in, isn’t it? The realization, the surge of love and lust? To be held and cherished and be full of me?” He smirked at your trembling form, your chest heaving and weak arms trying to push him off.

“I’ve read humans feel flushed, hot, so let’s get you out of these scraps, yes?” He slid off the thin straps while you mumbled a very unconvincing ‘stop’. Both actions were pretty pointless because he wouldn’t stop, you both knew that and also, he ended up taking the top off over your torso the normal way.

Your hands barely managed to land themselves on his wrist to pull them off, but the foolish limbs ravished in the feel of his cold skin instead. It was like a high you had never experienced and your body wanted more. It was already addicted to the feel of this stranger whose name you didn’t even know.

He unzipped the skirt, your pathetic body no longer even fighting him as he rambled on. “Among us vampires, well not much to tell but we’re all freezing cold when we find our ‘zing’. Like every normal day. Except for the inability to think and the need for their mate’s blood, of course.”

He came back up to kiss you, his body now in line with yours as one hand held your cheek and the other groped your breast. You had an out of body experience, feeling disgusted for reciprocating the kiss but also wanting more of that, more of him.

He trailed down your neck to your collarbone and you gasped for air, your thoughts incoherent. He kissed between the valley of your breasts, removing the bra sometime in between as you heaved. He wanted nothing more than to rest in those swells for an eternity.

As soon as cold air hit your nipples, one was being sucked while other was being pinched. The nameless stranger alternated between licking like a kitten and sucking like a baby on the breasts. Your rational part felt gross but the dominating side was the one experiencing delight.

He kissed down the sternum, to your bellybutton and then hovered above the thin, flimsy underwear. His hands slid down your sides, down the curve of your waist and hooked themselves at the cloth’s side, pulling them down in a swift motion.

Your legs quaked, trying to close themselves but one muscular arm on your thigh was able to hold them off, throw one away from the other. He leaned down and you were pathetically still under his muscles, your lower limbs either not daring to move or not wanting to.

You wrapped your hands around your torso to hide a bit of yourself, but did that really matter in the larger picture of the events unfolding right now?

You closed your eyes, tears already escaping since minutes ago as you tried to accept the reality of what was happening. A cold sensation on your little button caught you off guard; an infinitesimal fraction of time later, an inhale reached your ears.

You looked down, opening your eyes to find the man smelling you, his Grecian nose poking through your folds and taking in sniffs of your intimate part.

“Please sto-”

“The scent at its source, so fucking divine. I want a taste.” With that, your sentence got interrupted by his words and then by his action as his tongue licked away. It sucked on the bead, delving in the cavity there pretty fucking deep and he slurped away like he pretended to do when you were blindfolded.

Your back arched like a gymnast, hands that were folded across your chest clawing at your own skin, leaving marks behind. His hands were hooked around your thighs and they threw your legs on his shoulder some point in between. When he thrusted three fingers at once, an audible wheeze left your lips, your noiseless gasps now hoarse ‘Aah’s and you could feel him smirk.

There a also a lot of teeth involved with his razor sharp canines that appeared out of nowhere during this and when he thrusted his fingers particularly hard with his teeth nibbling on your sensitive bud, you shamelessly let go of the inside flow.

It felt humiliating and mortifying, your body glowing with the aftereffects of descending into bliss while your mind wanted to cry. Your soul was surprisingly content with what unfolded, at peace. You hated the diversity of emotions you felt, revolted to find even a bit of positive sentiment at your assaulter’s actions.

While your inner monologue happened, the man got up and out of his clothes painfully quick. You tried to sit your up, feebly trying to escape but ineffectively so. Your eyes couldn’t meet the handsome stranger’s nor did you want to see him naked and removed him form your eyeline, making you get caught off guard when his hands wrapped around your ankles and pulled you down, finishing the small distance you managed to crawl up.

His hands left their place as he kissed his way back up your flushed skin, from the swell of your ankle to the swell of your stomach. He licked away the drops of blood around the crescent scratches left by your nails under the intense ecstasy he forced upon you. Then he continued his journey from the swells of your chest to the swell of your cheek, taking you in a fiery, needy yet affectionate kiss.

Your surroundings blurred a second into the kiss, mouth and skin hungry for his touch alike. A thrust had you painfully gasp as you were stretched unlike ever before, impaled to a depth unlike ever before. He kissed away your tears that continued to spill on command of your ashamed mind and leaned back to look into your eyes, a pretty pink passing over them for a fleeting second.

His blue orbs bore into yours and you almost believed he loved you by the intensity of his gaze. At this moment in time, nothing but you two mattered, connected and finally together. How you got here didn’t matter, how unwilling you were didn’t matter. This felt right, felt necessary and was worthy of everything you went through. The rational part seemed to die the instant you two physically connected and somehow, everything and nothing made sense.

But you felt complete.

Your lips captured his of their own accord, and you both smiled into the caress of your lips while he began thrusting, one hand on your waist, the other supporting his weight. Out of breath, he leaned back, still thrusting though, and gazed at you. “Scott back there, he called you pretty, that’s practically an insult. The way you look right now, you’re much more than beautiful. You’re ethereal, my Zing, the loveliest in existence.”

His genuine words tugged at your heart. For some reason you believed him, had confidence in his feelings. Your foreheads connected as he quickened, his hand caressing your skin, the cool against your warm skin soothing. It didn’t take long for you to let go again this time; your previous resolution already dissolved. He neared your ears and whispered, “I want you to scream my name. It’s Bucky.” You nodded absentmindedly, chasing the high.

One particular thrust paired with his canines piercing your skin made you cry out “Bucky!” and you felt him smirking in your neck, lapping the blood. You wilted in bliss and your eyes closed, warmth filling you minutes after. Your eyes were dazed and you felt ‘Bucky’ shift, removing his towering frame from you, a goofy smile on the chiseled face.

With mind free of the aforementioned disapproving thoughts, you checked out his handsome face. It was like you saw him in an entirely different light now.

He gave you a quick peck, his hands cradling your face and he spoke with the utmost sincerity. “You are worth the wait, precious. No measure of time with you will be long enough. But we’ll start with forever to compensate. I’m never letting you go.”

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fandomness--randomness · 3 years

Text

Not so Hard Run Ins {Reiner Braun x Reader}

Warnings: none, just fluff and embarrassing stuff lol

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: You just wanted to return a shirt Marco had lended you, instead you found yourself face to face with your longtime crush.... or rather face to chest.

inspired by this tiktok

Anyways - I love Reiner and his hella mommy milkers (I've loved this hoe since season 1, I am the ultimate Reiner simp)

Sasha let out a long groan as she stretched her arms high above her head. Her joints cracked and popped as she did so. “Gah! I’m so hungry!” She whined.

“Please - you’re hungry all the time.” You chuckled softly, landing a light punch across Sasha’s arm. The girl overreacted, splayed herself across the porch banister and placed the back of her hand across her forehead like some kind of damsel in distress.

“Oh woe is me! I have been slain!” She cried out.

Connie, who was walking from the training field with Jean and Marco, quickly joined in on the antics. He laid himself across the banister next to Sasha in a similar fashion and began to lament of their shared demise. Something about how if Sasha, his partner in crime and fellow prankster, died - he too would die of heartbreak and boredom.

Rolling your eyes, you walk into the cafeteria with Marco as Jean attempts to pull them out of their improve scene.

“When those two start acting up, I can’t help but feel old.” You muttered as you snatched a plate of whatever mediocre slop they had been feeding the training corps the last three years and some stale bread.

Marco chuckled. “Come on (Y/N), don’t say that. You’re only a few years older than us. It’s not like you’re some old lady who can barely walk.” He sat down on the bench gently while you plopped down without a care.

Rolling your shoulder, you scoffed. “I sure feel like it with all this hand to hand combat lately. I just want to get back to ODM training already.”

Two more, much taller figures than you and Marco sat down across from you with their own meals.

“Well now, if you’re an old lady does that make Bertholdt and I old men?” Reiner joked before taking a bite of his bread. “We’re the same age after all.” He added, sending you a soft smile.

Clenching your fist under the table, you turned your gaze to your dinner and fought back the oncoming heat to your cheeks. You’re not sure when it happened - but along the path of tough,constant training and awkward teenage development, you found yourself in love with the muscular blond. You didn’t think much of him at first, thinking he was just like the other stupid boys from your village that showed off their muscles in an attempt to woo girls like you and your friends.

But that idea began to crumble when his brotherly nature was revealed and he offered a helping hand to the other cadets when they needed it. The misconception was practically destroyed the day he offered to carry you back to camp after you had rammed right into a tree while using ODM gear. You had originally wanted to curse out Eren for being overly cocky and nearly crashing into you, which caused you to overcorrect and smash into the tree - but the feeling of Reiner’s muscular back against your chest was just too distracting. That night you practically ran to bed in an embarrassed mess.

Tonight would no doubt be the same if Reiner continued to joke around with you.

Shoveling some food into your mouth, you leaned onto the table with your elbows and pointed the old spoon at Reiner. “I’m - what - 3 months older than you? I’ve practically got years of wisdom on you.”

Reiner laughed at your remark just as the rest of your friends joined the table - Sasha and Connie sporting reddened ears and Jean nearly having a vein in his forehead pop.

Smiling at your fellow cadets, you let yourself fall into the flow of conversation. And although you loved and appreciated all your friends, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over to Reiner every once in a while.

Thankfully, there was no after dinner training - so the cadets had a few hours of freetime until the lights went out. This gave you the chance to finally get around to cleaning your laundry and refreshing your ODM gear.

While others found doing laundry to be a pain Sasha, you found the rhythmic pattern to be soothing and comfortable. Because of this, more than often, you would do laundry for yourself and few of your friends.

Popping your head into the giant dorm room, you called out to the rest of the girls. “Hey, does anyone need their laundry done? I want to get it done before it gets dark so give it to me now if you want.” Most of the girls shook their head, thanking you for the offer, but some of the others handed off small baskets of clothes and bedsheets.

“Thank you so much (Y/N)!” Christa exclaimed.

You smiled back at her. “It’s no problem. This way they'll be able to dry overnight if need be.”

Walking back outside with a few more baskets of laundry, you set to work. It was the height of summer and the sun was still beating down on the poor training corps. Thankfully, it hadn’t rained in some time so there was no lingering humidity that would prolong the drying process.

It was so hot and dry that your first round of laundry was done drying by the time you finished washing the entire load. Pulling the dry laundry off of the pins, you brought them inside and to their appropriate owners before going to the equipment building to clean and polish your ODM gear.

By the time you returned to the hanging clothes, the sun was starting to set.

You smiled in victory at the realization that all of the laundry had dried. Setting everything in the appropriate baskets, you lugged the now clean clothes and bedsheets inside. The girls who had taken up your offer thanked you again as they readied themselves for bed.

Taking your own basket to your bed (thank god for having the bottom bunk) you began to unload and fold the laundry. All was normal until you came across a large navy blue shirt. It was certainly too big to be yours and you didn’t own anything like this.

Then you remembered. Slapping a hand across your forehead, you let out a long sigh.

The week prior, Sasha had knocked you right into the mud during some after dinner training. Thankfully Marco and Jean were watching the two of you, so being the kind soul he was, Marco rushed into his dorm and grabbed an extra shirt for you to change into quickly.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you glanced out the window. The sun had set, but the torches outside and lights inside the other buildings were still lit.

Turning to Mikasa, you asked, “do you think I have enough time to return this shirt to Marco? Before lights out?”

The ravenette glanced at you, the shirt, outside the window, and then back to you. She nodded lightly. “Yeah, I think it’s safe. The sun set only a few minutes ago. Lights shouldn’t be called for another 30 minutes.”

Letting out a breath of relief, you jogged out the door and called out a thanks to Mikasa for her stable judgment.

It wasn’t uncommon for cadets to go back and forth between the dorms despite their gender. You and Sasha were often found invading Jean and Connie’s space to beg them to play cards with you two and Marco. Eren and Armin always seemed to be calling for Mikasa to come hang out with them too. But that was when the sun was out.

Going to the others’ dormitory building when the sun had already set was sort of...taboo among cadets, even if it was technically allowed.

No one just wanted to walk into the dorms when the chance of walking into the other cadets changing or even bathing were at its peak. But this was just a quick trip in and out. You’d be fine.

Slipping into the boys dormitory hall, you started the familiar trek to the dorm room Marco was in. It was practically ingrained into your head at this point (not to mention that the dorm buildings’ layouts were the exact same). You expected to run in and run out - no issues.

That was until you turned a corner and came face first with a wall. At least that’s what you would’ve thought if the wall didn’t let out a surprised grunt.

Horror flooded through your veins as you realized your cheek was pressed right against someone’s bare chest, the heat of their skin radiating across your face. Glancing up, that horror doubled - no, tripled - in size.

You hadn’t just ran into some random boy. No - you had just ran right into Reiner Braun, who was only clad in a towel around his waist with skin still damp from his shower.

The red blush you had pushed back at dinner came back full force. The two of you stared at each other for a moment in surprise. Reiner’s own blush spread across his cheeks and ears.

“He’s really warm.” You thought. “And a lot more muscular than I thought. Yet his chest is so soft. I feel like I could fall asleep on it.” You stared at his deep hazel eyes. “I really want to run my hands across his chest. Does he have abs too? Oh what I would do to be able to let my hands wander down furth-”

A droplet of water from Reiner’s hair dripped onto your nose.

“THIS IS FOR MARCO PLEASE GIVE IT TO HIM!” You screamed, shoving the now wrinkled shirt into Reiner’s chest.

Not waiting for a response, you turned onto your heel and ran out of the dorm practically screaming - a high pitched whine and curses following your wake. You didn’t stop until you had your face planted into the mattress and body huddled in blankets.

Your entire body was on fire as your friends questioned what had happened. Some were more worried, like Christa; while others immediately thought the worst may have happened like Mikasa and Sasha. Eventually, when you kept shaking your head and refused to come out of your blankets, your friend retired to their beds. All except Sasha, who sat next to you, swinging her legs back and forth as she waited.

Peeking out of the blanket, you looked up at her.

“I did something so embarrassing, Sash.”

#reiner braun x reader #reiner braun #reiner braun imagine #aot oneshots #attack on titan #attack on titan imagine #reiner braun and mommy milkers #I love this man so much #I just wanna hold his hand so badly #and ride his d!ck even more #{🥵 - thirsting}

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sp00kworm · 3 years

Text

Claw Tracks

Pairing: Berold (Werebear/Bear Shifter) x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Violence, Bodyhorror.

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“Disgusting vermin!”

“Thief!”

“Scoundrel!”

The words had hurt but the rocks hurt more as they were hurled at the back of your head. One had caught you at the base of your skull and you could still feel the burning pain down into your neck as you shivered in the snow. The storm was in full swing now, and the icy wind burned your face and fingertips as you waded through the snow drifts along the side of the mountain. It hurt. You felt your arms starting to go numb and you hadn’t been able to feel your feet or hands for a long time. The cloak wrapped around you was tattered and worn. It had been years since you had had a new one, and this one was thread bare. It was the only thing you could grab before the townspeople had driven you out with pitchforks and fire. Your home was still smouldering in the distance. They’d called you a witch. A witch for what, you had asked, before they set the torches to your cabin. Nothing.

“Damn that stupid baker’s boy.” You cursed through chattering teeth as spots began to swim in your vision.

The cold was blistering. You stopped again to try and tug your cloak tighter, cursing the wind, ice, snow and cold, and especially the Baker’s son. You had refused him one too many times. Proposal after proposal turned down. Now you were a witch to the entire town. The bell tolled below, signalling mass. It seemed ironic that they burned your home and almost killed you but were heading to mass like it was any other day. Suddenly, cursing anymore was exhausting, and you felt your legs finally go numb, the cold and trudging through the snow taking its toll. Suddenly your legs jittered, shaking violently before they sent you face first into the snow drift. The cold ached. You felt the burning in your joints and bones, deep into your core as you struggled with your hands deep in the snow drift. Your fingers wiggled in the snow but made no headway in getting you back upright. Snow pounded against your eyes, crystalising in your eyelashes as it melted and froze once again with the freezing wind. Agony. You were in agony. A sob wretched from your throat as the pain overwhelmed you and breathing became hard around your sobs and shivering.

“I’m… going to die here…” You sobbed brokenly as the snow started to cover your thighs, burying you in the snow drift slowly. Black was seeping into the corners of your vision again and the cold was slowly becoming a numb sensation against your face. That was, until, a snort and a guttural growl rumbled over the drift. It was winter. Animals were hibernating. The only thing that should be alive and moving on the mountain was the reindeer that lived along a long, icy migration route. You wobbled as you clawed at the snow, peering over the ridge with a strained cry of burning pain through your body. A bear. A great, black cave bear stood in the drift in front of you, its nose lowered to your face, sniffing and huffing at your hair. The hot breath blew over your face before the wet end of its nose was pressed firmly into your hair. Dangerous teeth snapped in front of your face as the bear pulled away, strings of spit dripping from its jowls. It drew back enough for you to see its black eyes blown wide, staring at you through the left one. The other eye was cloudy, white and scarred. The bear grumbled again, watching you with one giant eye as you reached towards its muzzle. Your freezing cold fingers brushed the gnarled fur around its mouth, dipping into the thick, heavier fur around the bear’s ears.

You collapsed into the snow. The burning cold met your face as you keeled over into the deep snow drift. Heavy breaths snuffled over your neck as blackness overtook you. A rumble sounded from the bear.

“Don’t…eat…me.”

Warmth. There was something warm against your body. You felt a heavy weight over your back, stomach and legs. That was warm too. It was very warm. Cozy almost. Suddenly, drifting back to sleep seemed like the best idea.

“Best not to go back to sleep.” Someone rumbled from next to you, “You’ve taken two days to come ‘round as it is. I suggest you open your eyes.” It was harsh, a deep voice that carried an immediate pang of authority.

Sleepily, you dared to open your eyes and were met with a goliath of a man. His eyes were so dark they were almost black, but one was clouded with blindness, and his hair matched that, but was ladened with grey, like a salt and pepper waterfall down his back. The hair almost blended into the beard on his face and the hair over his chest and down his stomach. He snorted and blew hair from his eyes as he loomed over you, bare chested and only clothed in a thin pair of linen bottoms.

“Aren’t you cold…” You shivered, mumbling the words as your fingers finally came back to life beneath the thick, stitched fur quilt. Inside you were tucked in with several layers of blankets.

The man snorted before leaning over you to place another log onto the roaring flames. The fire was quick to start consuming the wood and you realised then that’s why you were so warm.

“I’m not cold.” He grunted at you, “I have thick…” He looked at himself and then shrugged, “I don’t feel it like others.”

With a sleepy blink you looked from the flames to the man’s hardened face. He was older than you initially thought, but age did not make him any less large and well built, aside from the fat around his tummy, over the heavy set muscles of his form. He was infinitely tall, towering over you, standing at well over six and a half feet. A giant.

“You’re…a giant.” You cooed from the floor, eyelids drooping with tiredness.

“Something like that.” He tutted at your drooping eyelids, “Now. Eat. Drink. Then you can sleep.”

A cup was thrust at you before the man helped you sit up, his arm lifting you before he cupped your head and poured small sips of water into your mouth. You swallowed slowly, before realising how parched you were and drinking greater gulps.

“Slowly. You’ll be sick.” The man complained before he pulled the water away and started to feed you bits of gravy stewed meat. It was thick but delicious. Between your chewing he ate pieces of bread and stew before offering you more. Eventually you both cleaned out a bowl, and he went for seconds, slurping the mixture down before moving onto a great bunch of red, ripe winter berries, pushing the popping fruit between his lips by the handful.

Tiredness set into your bones and you looked at the man as he shovelled another mouthful of berries into his mouth and chewed slowly.

“What are you starting at, human?” He grunted.

“What happened to that bear?” You asked quietly as you closed your eyes.

The man was quiet for a few moments before he answered, “We are one in the same.” He fluffed the pillow gently before sitting you up, “Come. You need to relieve yourself or you’ll get another kind of issue.” He eased you to your feet and helped you to relieve yourself before quietly tucking you back into the heated furs, “Now sleep. I will wake you again.” He promised as he settled himself in a wooden rocking chair next to you. You fell asleep just as he finished his sentence.

Warmth woke you up again but this time you felt much more coherent. Drowsily you looked at the fire, still roaring in the hearth, and wondered what time it was as you pushed the blanket away from your legs and felt the urge to relieve yourself burn in your gut. With a huff you dared to stand on your own, wobbling back and forth before collapsing back into the furs with a grunt. The furs rumbled. With a gasp you squeezed the fur underneath your hands and were met with the thick, hot fat of a giant sleeping bear, curled around your mattress and blankets on the floor. It grumbled a deep, threatening growl before opening one black eye. Your hands were pushed against a thick, puckered scar in its fur and you recoiled with a soft gasp as it opened its mouth to yawn, revealing sharp teeth. The front right canine was cracked. With a fumble, you tried to crawl away over the furs. A giant paw slapped on top of your back, pinning you in place before the bear dragged you back towards its face. Its blind eye made you quiver but the nose that pressed to you made you squirm. It snuffled before tucking you under its arm and laying its giant head back down with a grunt before it dragged your furs closer again.

“Hey, hey…No. I need to pee.” You groaned under the weight of the bear’s paw, trapped in the warm, thick fur.

The bear snorted before releasing you and bedding itself back against the floor, laid on its side. It ignored you as you stood up and took a deep, long breath as it drifted back off to sleep.

“One in the same huh…” You whispered as the bear slept soundly by your bed, its head rested on one of your pillows. You made a quick exit towards the back of the cabin and thieved Berold’s boots and giant fur coat before you headed to the small shed to relieve yourself. Your legs shook as you got back into the warmth, locking the door with a clunk as you headed back towards the nest in front of the fire. The bear was still asleep and you looked at the fur and then the scar over the eye.

“Berold the bear shifter, huh.” You looked at the bear as you warmed your face and hands by the fire, throwing another log into the flames to keep it alight, “Hibernating are you.”

The bear opened his good eye before growling lowly.

“Listening too.” You hummed, tucking yourself in with a fur before you looked back at the animal you assumed to be your saviour, “Thank you, then. For everything. I wouldn’t be alive otherwise.”

The bear eyed you before loping to its feet and shouldering its way into the other room.

The sound of bones cracking and a man screaming sounded, and you rushed to your feet to see the last moment as Berold’s face cracked and snapped back into place, from muzzle to flat and human. You gasped as he heaved on the floor, catching his breath before he dared to stand up on his legs, wobbling back and forth before he looked at you through his one good eye and gestured to himself.

“The coat.” He grunted.

With a rush of embarrassment, you grabbed the fur coat and threw it to him before turning around. Berold covered himself quickly before tapping you when he was decent.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He said simply before he walked past you.

“Wait a minute!” You rushed after him, still shaking and weak from the brush with death, “Of course I do! You saved my life and…”

Berold held a finger to your lips, “Save your breath. Eat well, rest, and I will help you back to the village.”

The village. You’d almost forgotten about the villagers. You eased your hand up the back of your neck and touched the place you had been struck by a rock. It was a lump now, the skin raised and inflamed. You felt your head spin as you drew your hand away to see blood. Berold rushed to catch you as you fell forwards towards the floor.

“I did not know you were injured.” He grumbled as his fingers raised your hair and peered at the wound, which was dripping fresh blood, down the back of your neck, “Sit.” He directed you down to the armchair he was sat in before and left you to go and collect some things. Your eyes rolled with pain as you leaned back, trying to stop the ceiling from spinning. Berold’s hot fingers returned to your face and his old, grizzled looking face appeared in front of you. He said something, but the words rang in your deaf ears as white noise echoed in your eardrums. The bear-shifter shook his head and eased your head forwards, cupped in his palm as he plucked at the wound and tutted. What followed next, you couldn’t remember. All you could remember was Berold’s warm fingers as they cleaned and applied things to your head.

You woke up again wrapped in furs, your head rested on several pillows and wrapped in gauze. You groaned and opened your eyes to see an elf leaned over you. The elf was dark haired with skin of a purple tone, his red eyes covered by a pair of thick lensed glasses. He hummed before whispering something to Berold and then another person appeared. A fae of some kind with soft feathered wings of pure white and a beak to match. She ruffled her feathers before laying out a long looking mushroom and snapping her fingers. The mushroom wiggled before arms and legs popped from its stem.

“Come on, little one, we need that fruit.” She cooed softly with a trill.

The elf was quick to notice your eyes were open and hushed her with a finger to his lips, “You’re awake. Welcome back, but be still, human. We are not finished.” He pressed your head back and held you still as the little mushroom yawned and sat itself into a plant pot full of soil.

“Come, come, ‘ock you’re a lazy one.” The fae complained as she ushered the fungus along and touched her fingers to the pot from behind her great snowy wings. She was covered in soft downy feathers and you were entranced before looking at the elf too, his red eyes judgemental of the mushroom.

“Berold. Please hold them.” The elf asked.

Berold moved to your side, gruff and huffy as he held your head back and watched the elf move to tease the fruit from the little mushroom’s head, “Thought you could handle this one, Slidrah?” He grumbled.

“Sometimes even the most unassuming patients are the unruliest.” Slidrah complained as the mushroom sneezed out a sporous fruit. He plucked it carefully before placing the fruit into the mortar and beginning to grind it into the paste.

“Slidrah can ye be nice for just once?” The fae trilled.

“Oh of course, Morganna, I will be the kindest elf to the rudest bear I know.” Slidrah complained as he mixed the paste and placed it over a thick padded bandage.

“You wouldn’t make it through the winter without me.” Berold growled as he touched your forehead and stroked your skin softly.

“Sure, Berold.” Slidrah rolled his eyes before he took the bandage and eased your head up. He placed it against the wound before Morganna pulled out a feather from her wing and gently laid it over your stomach as the paste stung against your wound.

“Gently now, dearie.” Morganna cooed at Slidrah before he whispered a word you had never heard before. Your eyes drooped suddenly as your fingers clutched at the feather, stroking the softness between two fingers before you gasped and reached for Berold’s hand. He put a finger to his lips, appearing as double and then triple as your eyes rolled and closed.

“I know you’re awake.” Berold said as he eased your head up and carefully removed the bandages from around the back of your head, “Sit still.” He carefully peeled away the bandage before he took the paste and compress away, revealing a green mix with a very pungent smell.

“What happened?” You asked quietly, your throat dry and sore from being asleep.

Berold took a new compress to your head, the cloth smeared with a familiar looking paste, “Morganna put you to sleep to help you recover. The compress has helped. The wound is closed.” He eased your head back after he tied the bandage tight enough to hold the cloth and paste to your head, “You were lucky. Skilled healers are the only people who could have helped you. Had I been alone here, you would have died from the trauma.”

You were still tired but the weight of his words sat heavy in your stomach, “Thank you, then…For saving my life again.”

Berold snorted, “Slidrah and Morganna saved your life this time. They left this morning, but they will be back within the week no doubt, you can thank them then.” He stopped you from sitting up with a giant, warm hand pressed to your stomach. Even with one, blind cloudy eye, he still appeared viciously angry, “Stay still. Too much movement could open the wound again. Bed rest. Until Slidrah and Morganna come back.” He insisted with a growl before standing and heading out of the room.

You gazed around quietly before reaching for the water next to the bed. After a few careful sips, you tugged at the furs and ran your fingers through the thick beaver hair and the pelt of a shaggy goat, which lived up on the cracks in the mountain. They were incredibly warm and you eased back, thankful for the heat of the small bedroom. The cabins’ rooms were made of solid, heavy timber, smelling of fragrant pine, and the small window was covered in glass, something only a rich man could afford, even if it was tiny. You looked at the chimney breast and again wondered how on earth Berold lived in such luxury. Your head swam with even the effort of turning it to peer around at the little room and you closed your eyes as your gut lurched and bile rose in your mouth.

Berold returned with a small bowl in his hands, his black eyes softening as he watched you retch against the furs, “Did I not tell you to stay still?” He said scathingly before he placed the food aside and eased you back against a great pile of overstuffed pillows.

The sweet smell of honey and oats made you wish you didn’t feel so sick, “What did they do to my head.” You complained before Berold pulled your fingers away from your head.

“They healed it…With magic we don’t mention to anyone. What they did could get us all killed.” Berold seemed unconcerned despite the severity of what he was saying, “The villagers don’t come here. I want to keep it that way.” He brushed the greying streaks of hair from his face before he took hold of the bowl again.

“That smells like what Mrs Freist used to make us.” You murmured at the bear-shifter, “She had beehives.”

Berold held a spoonful of the mixture to your lips, “Its honeyed oat porridge. Eat. It will help you regain your strength.” He pressed the wooden spoon insistently to your lips and you opened your mouth to take the food inside, smiling like a child at the tooth rotting taste of too much honey.

“Have you eaten?” You asked quietly after a few mouthfuls.

Berold nodded, “Honey is a favourite of mine.” He confessed as he fed you another spoonful.

“Like a real bear.” You squeezed at the furs with a small laugh, “Its delicious.”

Dark eyes flashed with softness once again and you settled back against the cushions as Berold continued to feed you the bowl of food.

It continued in a pattern. Twice a day Berold would sit and feed you and around midday he would come to check on you and offer you a meal you often never wanted. Slowly, your strength returned, and Berold trusted you to relieve yourself without falling over and dress yourself so long as you didn’t move too quickly. It was a month before you could walk around and do things without your head spinning, and the snow never seemed to stop for longer than a few days. The mountainside thawed a little and Berold disappeared to gather food and wood before the snow started again and you were trapped once more. A month of snow and ice then lead to a calm week of thawing. Berold was at the windows, his nose raised as he tasted at the air, and opened the door to let the chilly breeze into the cabin. You looked at the massive man from the kitchen as you dried a large pan and placed it away in his rickety cupboards. You had both eaten a thick and heavy stew from the night before for breakfast but Berold had seemed very uninterested in the food in favour of looking out of the window longingly.

“It smells like spring.” He grumbled as he looked around outside at the slightly thawed snow, “Like…fresh grass.”

“I think the cabin fever has finally gotten to you old man.” You joked from the kitchen, “Maybe in the valleys, it tends to be thawed now with some grass, but the winter isn’t over just yet.” You placed away a spoon on the rack and turned back to see Berold’s good eye turned to watch you. His milky eye twitched at the ghosts of the shapes outside but he grinned, exposing white, sharp teeth at you.

“Old man?” He asked with a huffy chortle, “If I’m old then you’re a cub.”

“A cub?” You asked, “I’m old enough to have at least three little parasites to my name.” You gave a dry snort, “But that didn’t happen, thank the gods.”

“They make children have more children now?” Berold raised a dark eyebrow as he closed the door and headed towards the fire to look at the log pile along the side of the wall.

“Its worse elsewhere.” You insisted, “But thankfully no one wants the orphan with no dowery.”

“Dowery…You mean the money a father gives for a man to marry his child? I thought that practice ancient?” Berold looked at you in confusion again.

“Just how long have you been up here?” You asked, not believing what you were hearing, “Did a snowball hit you too hard in the head?” You joked as you placed away the last of the bowls.

Berold chewed on his words for a minute, “I slept…for a long time.” He confessed, “We are akin to dragons, but my hibernation took some years from me after the arenas. I was taken as a young teenager and forced to fight in the pits, tearing little knights to pieces for the entertainment of some elven king. A foul-smelling fucker. He gave me this.” He dragged a black nail over his eye, “I took his arm off for the trouble.” He snarled and pointed to the bone laid on the mantle, “But I slept after that up in this mountain from being…” He shrugged, “I was old, but I was not grey.” He confessed, “But we live for a long time…”

“Humans who wore bear skins were once Gods.” You whispered.

Berold’s teeth were exposed in another snarling smile, “We were once Gods of wisdom.” He tapped the wall with his nails, “But now we are dead and gone.”

“There are tales of shifters to the north, beyond here, why don’t you go there?” You asked.

“I have no need of a tribe, just as they had no need of me when they left me to die.” He shrugged and pulled his hair from his face, “Not one of them came to my aid when I screamed in the woodlands, impaled on spears and dragged to serve as a toy for a king of pointed eared fuckers. So, I will not go to them. They can rot in their woods with the nymphs.” Berold dismissed the questions with an annoyed flap of his hand.

“Where are you going?” You asked as he dragged his coat from the wall and pulled his boots on his feet.

“To bathe and ensure no one has decided this is now their territory.” Berold grunted as he opened the door again.

“There’s somewhere to bathe?” You asked with glee, “Can I…”

“You will freeze. It is a freezing lake beneath a waterfall.” He snapped at you before he closed the door, abruptly ending the conversation between the two of you. You felt anger churn in your gut but you rushed to grab one of his coats and some boots before tying everything closed and rushing after the shifter’s tracks in the snow.

The tracks lead up the mountain, through the thawing slush, before turning into those of the giant bear who’s claws dragged along in the snow as he lumbered along. You cursed the giant bear-shifter as you followed him up the mountain side and then towards the crags where the path dipped down into an odd-looking alcove. You followed the path down into the hidden side of the mountain face until you heard the crashing of water. A great pool of water was hidden in the alcove, with a small waterfall crashing over the top of the cliff faces into the water below which led into another small waterfall and so on down the side of the mountain. It was surrounded with wildlife and greenery which could not survive on the mountainside against the wind, rain and cold, but could in the sheltered alcove. Berold’s coat and clothes sat in a bundle under the shrubbery closest to you, hidden from the elements and animals.

You got to the base of the path and watched as Berold’s giant head exploded from under the water. The black bear shook his head and peered around, nose stuck in the air, and you made sure to duck low near his bundles of clothes, the coat and furs hopefully serving to disguise your scent on the wind. The bear huffed and growled before it swam to the edge of the pool and shook out its mass of shaggy fur before making its way to the tree, littered with claw marks and great gouges, before he began to rub his face and body over the bark, scratching and marking the area before the bear growled and fur began to disappear from its back. You watched as the bear howled, its head thrown up as the fur disappeared to reveal dark skin, which slowly melted into the scarred, pale skin of Berold. The muzzle snapped and flattened back towards the dark eyes, one cloudy and blind, and the other closed in agony as Berold began to take shape, his bones snapping and cracking back to reveal a tall, burly man, old and greying in many places. His chest was covered in a thick line of fur and his face was now beginning to grow a beard which was far too thick. He needed a clip, but the winter had left the both of you stuck inside, sleeping and eating most days. Berold seemed much more alert now as he sniffed the air again, naked, his muscles twitching with the cold, before he dove back into the water. He resurfaced a minute later with a snort of water and a grumble as he reached around the bank for his clothes.

His hand wrapped around your boot, and before you could even yelp, you were dragged from under the bushes, leaves and rotten twigs catching in your hair and coat before you came face to face with Berold’s face. His salt and pepper hair hung around his shoulders but stuck to his face as he snarled at you with sharp, long canines. Water streaked over the muscles of his neck and shoulders as he dragged himself over the edge of the pool, leaning out to keep his weight on you, and to keep you pinned in place.

“I told you not to come with me.” He growled as he pulled the hair from his face with his other hand, “What part of you would freeze did you not understand?”

You yelped as his wet hand slapped over your thigh, holding you in place in the mud, “I want to get clean as well and…well I wanted to see where you were going…” You confessed in a rush as the werebear snorted over you, his nose twitching as he scented you and then the air again.

“Fine then. Strip off.” Berold grunted.

You felt yourself go hot with embarrassment, “What do you mean strip?” You snarked at him, “Are you some kind of pervert?” You looked away from him as he stood in the pool, the waterline barely hiding his genitals from sight.

“You’re going to freeze either way, but at least your clothes will be dry if you strip them off.” Berold grumbled at you.

For a moment you considered throwing your clothes at him out of spite but with a huff you turned to strip away the coat, “Turn around…” You asked. With a small sigh, Berold turned and the water sloshed around his hips, “Thank you.” He only grunted in response. You carefully removed your clothes and folded the cloth and wool in a neat pile beside Berold’s under the bush.

“Its best if you just jump in.” Berold joked from the water, though his tone was as gruff and mean as usual.

“I don’t think I dare.” You confessed at the edge of the water, shivering before Berold whipped around, grabbing you by the thighs before he launched you up and into the water with a giant splash.

Water blurred your vision until you broke the surface, coughing and splurting, gasping until you realised you could stand in the waist high water quite easily. Berold laughed, long and raspy as he leaned back and splashed back into the water. It was then you realised the water wasn’t cold. It was pleasantly warm. The shock on your face made Berold heave a great laugh again from where he was floating around the pool, his hair cascading out from him in waves.

“It’s heated by lava I think.” Berold hummed as he floated towards you, his eyes closed, the scars on his face not turned with upset for once but bent upwards with the smile on his lips.

“So why did you lie about it being cold?” You asked as you ducked to cover your body in water.

Berold opened one dark eye and shrugged, tipping himself into the water before turning to look at you, hidden against the edge, “Sometimes I don’t want you following me everywhere I go.” He offered gruffly, “You’re barely recovered to add to that. I didn’t want to have to carry you back home.” He confessed softly as he pushed water over his arms and pointed to the bank, “There’s soap in my coat. I will let you go first, then you can be out of my way.”

“Sure…” You huffed as you took the soap from the furs and quickly set to work scrubbing your skin as good as you could manage. Once you had lathered up and washed yourself, you dunked your body low and turned to be met with one gleaming dark eye and one blind one, watching you, apparently that whole time.

“Pervert.” You hissed at the Werebear as you threw the soap at him.

Berold snatched the soap from the air, “Think what you want.” He growled as he turned to rub the soap against his shoulders, “Dress. I’ll lead us home.”

You pulled yourself from the small pool and wiped as much water as you could from your skin, grateful for the warm, dry clothes as you pulled them over your chilly skin. Turned away, you looked up the face of the mountain at the snow which was dripping water over the rocks. Berold sloshed in the water as he soaped his skin, and you listened to him move in the water, beating down the urge to turn around and see what the giant werebear looked like. There was a rush of snow from the side of the mountain which made you smile. It was followed by a bleating mountain goat which peered over the side with dark eyes, its shaggy white fur flopping over its eyes once again as it turned and carried on up the mountain, ignoring the two of you in the pool.

Berold caught your arm a moment later, dressed and still burning hot despite the coolness of the air. He peered upwards, his eyes following the mountain goat with a sniff, “They make for good eating.”

“I’m sure we don’t need anymore food just yet.” You replied as you smiled and watched the goat go.

Berold’s gaze turned to your face, “You don’t smile like that often. It suits you.” He complimented gruffly.

“What do you mean?” You asked as he started back up the path towards his home, expecting you to follow him.

He waited for you to catch up before offering an arm for you to take as you clambered over roots and boulders, “Ever since you woke up you had this far away look on your face, like you were looking for something and just could never find it.” Carefully, he lifted you over a particularly large boulder and followed with a grunt, “You looked sad, until recently.”

You considered his words, remembering spending the first days recovering after Slidrah’s treatment staring longingly out of the small window as the snow battered up the mountainside, “I…” The words seemed to stick in your throat, “I lost the place I called my home and the people who were once the only family I ever had in a single day.” You replied, “All because the stupid baker’s boy couldn’t take a hint.” You picked up a stone on the path and threw it back into the pool, the anger fading with the splash of the water as the stone hit its surface.

Berold watched the stone soar silently before he opened his mouth, “Then they weren’t your real family, were they?” He scoffed, “If a baker’s boy could call you a witch and Satan’s whore then they were hardly ever your family.”

You felt anger burn in your throat, “They were once. You don’t have to word it in a way that makes it seem like no one ever cared!”

Berold laughed at you as you snatched your arm from his, “The truth hurts, little cub, better get used to that before someone really hurts you.”

“I refuse to turn into a bitter, cruel man like you. Not everyone is out to hurt you!” You refused to let him see you cry as you stormed up the snowy banking, “And not everyone wants to become an emotionally stunted recluse like you either!”

The werebear grabbed you by the arm before you could carry on with your tantrum, “As much as your words hurt me.” He rolled his eyes, “I refuse to let you storm off, get lost and develop hypothermia, again.”

“Bite me.” You grumbled before Berold snarled and grappled you easily, hauling you over his shoulder as you struggled, pinning you in place before he started back to his cabin.

“You can have your childish, ignorant tantrum back where you won’t die.”

You didn’t see Berold for a few days after the argument. He left you in the cabin and went out to collect wood and forage while the weather was good, and he could avoid being stranded in the snow. The tension was made somehow worse by his temper and you spent all the time you could avoiding him, reading the same books over and over in your room before collecting a meal and disappearing back into your room once more. You opened the tale of the origin of Solgren once more that day and huffed at the first page and its ancient map of the region. It was a hot country, far to the south, where it is said a race of snake creatures and lizardfolk are worshipped as deities and gods. You heard a merchant once talk about a Naga of fertility that birthed a thousand snakes into a ravine to produce a venomous pit into which no one could enter.

A heavy knock sounded on your door.

“Yes?” You asked with less of the usual venom, “What is it, Berold?”

The werebear opened the door and looked at you, his good eye roving over you tucked in the furs reading. You had even snuck into his honey stash again out of the top of the cupboard, “I see I need to find somewhere new to hide the honey.” He offered lamely as he entered, “I have come to apologise.” He stated, watching your eyes widen, “I was cruel and brash. I did not intend to upset you, but I did not think… But I am sorry.”

You met his intense gaze and nodded, “Apology accepted, and…I’m sorry too.” You closed your book, “I was foul as well. I know you’ve been through a lot, just like me, and I don’t have the right to take that out on you.”

Berold seemed satisfied by that statement, “It seems we both need to learn how to not upset one another…” He tugged over a stool and sat by the edge of your bed, “And I need to learn that opening up to people is not the end of the world.” With a gruff noise he reached and pulled his loose cotton shirt over his head, revealing the thick, puckered scars from over his shoulders. He twisted on the stool and you were graced with the full extent of the injuries. His back was covered in long, thick scars, pale and tough from where they had healed, now filled with collagen toughened tissue.

“Is this what they did to you?” You asked.

“When I did not perform, they used steel tipped whips. I could only ever endure about five, but it was five every time I couldn’t stand for almost thirty years of my life.” He offered, “A woman would come and cover them with a mint paste when she could. She was in charge of the animals… They still hurt.” He reached to touch the ones on his shoulders before flinching as his tough fingers met your own, “They are an ugly reminder of that place, but an even better reminder of what I did to all of them.”

Burning fire flashed behind your eyes, a memory of your own tragedy, “Did you kill them all?” You asked quietly as you traced a thick scar down the centre of his spine.

Berold’s burning, black gaze turned to look at you, holding your gaze he nodded, “Every last one of them.” He curled his fist as his other hand took hold of your own, “It felt good, when I pulled that fucker’s arm off, but…It was hollow after that. I left him bleeding on his throne and made for the mountains. Walked for…I don’t know. Its hazy, the memories of my other side. I ate fish for days and slept in a cave before waking up with grey in my hair. Revenge made me old.” He finished with a sour joke as he turned back to face you head on and pulled his shirt back on over his head.

“I’m sorry people did that to you.” You wanted to cry but you tried to smile, “It seems we both have a little tragedy, huh?”

“It seems so.” Berold hummed before he offered you his hand, “But…There’s no reason we can’t build something a bit better.” He squeezed your hand gently.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” You joked.

He tugged your hand closer to his fangs, “Hardly…But some company up here wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Then I accept your proposal.” You squeezed his hand before offering him a look at the book cover, “Have you read this one?” You asked.

Berold shook his head of shaggy hair, “No. Read it to me?” He asked quietly, “I’ll make more honey tea.”

Reading slowly became a routine. After dinner, the two of you would sit by the fire, and you would open a book to read to the werebear. Often, he ended up with his head in your lap and your hand in his hair, snoozing in the heat as you quietly read the story. It had started with him, shifted, curled on the floor by the fire, but as the days went on, Berold seemed to grow more comfortable and laid out his form over the cushions and furs and yourself. It was nice. His heat was soothing and his frame wrapped snuggly around your own. When he did finally drift off, you read for a while longer before easing his head onto a pillow and slipping away to bed. He never said anything the next day. This night was much the same, and you propped the book up in front of you as you stroked through his grey and black hair, winding the strands together aimlessly as you read the tale or Narbren and Senoot, two fae of the oaks who had once saved the fae realm. He was uninvested, but happily closed his eyes as you stroked through his hair.

“Senoot took the flames of the world tree in hand and cried, her tears dripping into the wood ashes with despair as she watched the leaves and bark burn before her eyes. Narben thrust his sword at the spirits, his own tears of fury soaking the ground. Together they mourned the tree in the burning fire…” You paused as there came a knock on the door, removing your fingers from Berold’s hair, “At this hour?” You asked breathily before Berold’s eyes turned angry. He pulled himself from the cushions and stood, his shoulders squared as he turned the lock with a clunk and opened the wood door inwards.

The chilly breeze blew into the room and you tucked the furs around your legs as Berold filled the doorway, his giant, almost seven-foot-tall frame blocking much of his home from view. You peered around him to catch a glimpse of the guards stood at the door.

“Good evening, sir.” One guard tipped his helmet forwards, “I’m sorry to knock so late but we have a favour to ask of you.”

“Good evening…I’m not much in the way of favours.” Berold grunted, “I can’t spare you room to stay if that is what you are going to ask.”

“No, sir. We are after a witch.” The guard scowled before he pointed into the cabin, “We have a warrant to search every home until we find them.”

“How does that warrant affect me? This mountain is the border territory.” Berold snapped, “I will not have you come in here and ravage my home.”

“It is law. We will do it by force if necessary.” The guard threatened, “And we wish to speak with your…”

Fear laced through you as Berold grunted, “That is my partner. We are to be married in the spring.” He grumbled at the guard, “Touch and I will rip you open.” But he moved to the side to allow the group inside. Their cloaks caught on the doorframe and you nodded to them as they entered the room, praying no one had given them a detailed description of your face.

The rest of the party moved into the house, leaving one with Berold and you, “You are to be married but why is your spouse with you?”

“They have no family.” Berold picked at his teeth with a dark nail, “Every winter we spend time here, but the weather has been too bad to return home.”

The guard gave a disbelieving look, “And visitors?” He asked.

“None. I trade with a few people over the mountain but as I said, the weather has been too bad.” Berold answered. You could see his temper wearing thin as the guards dropped something in the kitchen, but he stood by the door, as calmly as he could manage.

“You.” The guard pointed to you, “Where are you from?” He asked.

You swallowed and smiled as best as you could, “The village Berold mentioned, sir, just over the mountain. I worked with a man named Slidrah, he’s the apothecary owner.”

“What’s the name of the place.” He pressed.

“Ignot.” You replied, praying you had heard Slidrah right on his last visit to the cabin. The guard eyed you for a moment more with his pinprick gaze before he seemed satisfied and moved back to questioning Berold about his comings and goings. You sat by the fire and pretended to read as they continued to look through the house and assess every nook and cranny of the building. Berold watched with furious eyes until they were ready to depart. The guards were curt with their depart and you watched them from the window, wrapped in a heavy blanket. Berold growled by the door, snorting and grumbling as he stretched and paced by the door.

“Berold?” You asked as he reached for the door, his brows thickening and darkening as his sharp teeth protruded from out underneath his top lip.

“Stay inside.” He demanded, “They know. They’ll bring more.” He reached for the door handle and opened the wooden door again, letting the cold air in once again as he snarled and snorted, “No one comes in. You don’t let anyone in unless they knock four times.”

“Why four times?” You asked as you took hold of his shirt, “They’ll know if you kill them…”

“I’m doing this…This one thing to protect someone I care about, for once.” Berold confessed with another growl before he stormed out of the door, his face cracking with a shift, “Keep it locked until those knocks!” He shouted through his teeth and you slammed the door locked and removed the key with a deep breath as you listened to Berold stumble and howl in the snow, hobbling down the mountain on the tracks the guards had left behind.

He didn’t return that night and you spent it huddled by the fire, sipping honey sweetened tea as you watched the fire and kept it hot, hoping Berold would return later.

Four knocks woke you in the morning. They came slow and were lethargic, as though the person was exhausted.

“Its me.” Berold growled from outside, “Let me in.”

You rushed from the pillows and blankets in the chair and took the key to open the door. It swung open to reveal Berold, tired and drawn, but otherwise clean and uninjured.

“Are you okay?” You helped him inside and watched as he set himself down in the armchair, exhausted.

“I’m fine.” He grumbled, “But they’re not…I took them into the village and told them a bear attacked. The villagers seemed to buy it. They won’t be able to deliver their message.” He yawned against the furs before opening his eyes and tucking his hair behind his ears. He scrubbed at his beard before sighing, “I did it to protect you. I…” He took a long breath, “I think I have grown to love something but myself.” He uttered as his eyes slid closed a little, “You sit right here.” He pointed to his heart, “And I think I would…be sad if you were to leave me.” Berold reached for your face, tracing a gentle circle over your cheek before he smiled tiredly, “What this old bear is trying to say, is that I love you.”

The words rang in your ears for a moment. Your face lit up with a smile.

“You’re a thick-headed idiot, you know that right?” You tucked a fur over his lap before Berold dragged you to him.

“Is that you saying you feel this way too?” He grumbled next to your neck as his hair tickled at your skin.

You pulled his head up and smiled before laying one kiss on his cheek, “Yes. I love you too.”

Berold dragged you closer and pressed your lips together, his teeth poking against your bottom lip as he turned his head and rubbed his hands along your sides. It was intense and you felt like you were drowning, smothered in the entirety of Berold for a moment before he pulled away and stroked at your neck and face, his face buried in your hair.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

“Don’t thank me.” You replied as you tucked his hair back, “But promise that’ll you’ll keep talking and letting me in.”

“I promise, dearest.” Berold whispered against your cheek as he dragged the furs over the two of you.

#werebear #werebear x reader #shifter x reader #monster x reader #monster boy x reader #monster boyfriend #monster bf x reader #gender neutral reader #terato #exo #berold x reader #reader insert #my writing #original works #berold the werebear #shifter berold

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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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