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hrryfics · 21 days
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hiiii guys.
this is my new trope on patreon. there are 4 more parts available on there and more updates to come. You can subscribe for $3USD a month here
THE KISSCAM TROPE
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YN doesn't know why she thought that a hockey game of all things would make her feel any better about her breakup with Adam.
YN really can’t imagine that anything will lessen the sour taste of her high school sweetheart getting another girl pregnant.
All YN had known was Adam which she was now realizing how much she had been missing out on experiencing through her earlier twenties.
While Adam snuck around behind her back to experiment, hook-up, and do whatever else with other woman.
YN, unfortunately, only knew Adam intimately.
YN always knew that had been lackluster, always more to desire because he chased his own needs and very rarely helped her reach her own pleasure.
It was bittersweet.
There’s a massive relief that she doesn’t have to imagine her entire life with him and open it to new possibilities.
However, the hurt that came with his infidelity still ached enough that she sometimes physically felt her chest twinge.
:readmore:
A hockey game with a few of her close friends.
Her best friend, April, worked for the arena which meant that she was able to secure pretty close-to-the-ice tickets for a fourth of the price.
As they sat down, a few of them had already had a drink or two in them, and YN didn’t want to mix alcohol with a broken heart so she stuck to a soda instead.
After they’ve filed into their seats, YN was at the one end of her group which meant the chair next to her would be filled by another attendee.
She didn’t think anything of it, leaning across her friend Henry to chat to April, her back towards the empty seat.
YN does not realize that someone is trying to sit down until someone bumps her in the back with their elbow, not hard enough to hurt but enough that YN glances back.
“Sorry for that,” The most gorgeous man she’s ever seen apologizes, a big genuine smile that makes dimples pop in his cheeks, “Got my hands full.”
And he did, he managed to carry three bottles of beer by the neck in one hand, his other filled with a tray of food.
His friends follow shortly after, tugging the beers one by one out of his hand until he can sit down comfortably with his carton of food on his lap.
“It’s okay,” YN assures him, trying to not make it too obvious that she’s giving him a sneaky once over because damn.
He was in a pair of well fitting jeans, a shirt that looked vintage but hugged his broad shoulders tight, looser as it tapered down.
The man continues to smile at her as his friends appear to be quite a rowdy group in comparison to him as they settle in.
“You’re pretty,” The stranger tells her, no shame in his words but not much meaning because he’s already turning back towards his friends like he didn’t just rock her world.
YN questions whether she heard it right because did he just call her pretty?
She tries desperately not to hyper focus on it like a schoolgirl with a crush but it’s hard when his shoulders are so broad, his biceps were built.
It was impossible for their bodies not to be frequently touching.
YN attempts to focus on her friends until the game starts, having to face forward and not be able to have her back to the man.
“You want a fry?” The stranger asks randomly after a few moments.
YN assumes that he’s talking to a friend until he nudges her with an elbow, “Do you want a fry or a chicken strip?”
YN normally wouldn’t accept food from someone she didn’t know but their dinner had been disgusting and inedible which meant her stomach was rumbling.
He’s offering the basket up to her, letting her pick out a fry, and his smile was still just plaster on his face as he watched her.
“Thank you,” YN replies after she’s finished it, giving him more of an unsure grin back.
“Help yourself,” He tells her casually before he’s placing the basket between them so she could grab a fry or strip more easily.
This was weird.
After a few minutes, YN hesitantly plucks up another fry, and the man next to her doesn’t acknowledge that she’s eating out of his basket at all.
When YN’s hand hits paper, she looked down in utter embarrassment, “Oh my god. I am so sorry. I didn’t even realize that I was eating all your food.”
The guy looks over at her for a moment, confused until he glances down at the basket balanced on his leg, and then back to her.
“I’ll go grab you another one right now-“
YN moves to stand up and his hand lightly comes to her shoulder to keep her sat, his expression is somewhat unreadable, somewhat amused.
“I offered them to you? Why are you apologizing?”
“You didn’t offer for me to eat the whole basket,” YN points out with a heat in her cheeks, this was embarrassing.
“Are you still hungry? I could go grab more,” He asks easily, it wasn’t a jest or teasing, he was being a hundred percent serious.
If YN would have ate Adam’s food, he would have demanded she go immediately to get more and then bring it up for the rest of the night too.
This man, who was unfairly attractive but more than that, suspiciously nice even though it didn’t come off as creepy or predatory.
“I’m good. Thank you for asking. I’m sorry again,” YN apologizes again for good measure as she picks anxiously at her thumb.
“No apology needed,” He shakes his head with a laugh as he puts the empty remnants on the ground in front of him and swigs from his beer.
YN has to keep her eyes on the ice, she is much too focused on every time his shoulder brushes or his knee knocks in hers because he has to spread his legs an ungodly amount.
There was no conversation between them until another attendee who was further into the middle row was attempting to exit by their side.
The man was a bit wobbly, there was surely a lot of alcohol running through his system and he wasn’t being careful.
He trips over his own feet, over the debris on the ground, and rumbles right on top of YN who yelps in surprise.
The man next to her is quick to action, standing up and tugging the guy back up so that he was standing off his feet.
He was visibly annoyed with the drunk, voice sharp as he warns, “Watch where you’re fucking walking, mate. You could have hurt her.”
The guy mumbles an apology before staggering up the stairs, most likely to get more alcohol.
“Thank you,” YN says once again to him, adjusting her top and brushing off the pants of her leg, heart still pounding.
“Harry, bro. Johnson almost scored!” One of his friends pats his arm excitedly.
Harry.
Well, Harry gives her that signature smile before biting the corner of his lip, and his eyes stay on her a moment longer than acceptable before going back to his friends.
When a commercial break cuts, towards the end of the game, it’s the crowd's favorite time.
The kiss cam.
YN doesn’t think much of it, she’s not with anyone nor loving up on someone.
And it’s an area with fifty-thousand people, it’s next to impossible for her to-
But then her friends are squealing, shoving at her to look towards the Jumbotron, and there she is, projected on the screen.
The frame is decorated with corny swirling pink hearts, balloons popping, and most importantly bold letters that read, ‘KISS CAM’.
In the frame with her, however, is Harry.
As if they were a couple.
His friends must point it out to him because he’s glancing at the screen before he’s making eye contact with her.
Boldly, wildly, he grins and asks, “Can I kiss you?”
YN boldy, wildly nods ‘yes’.
He leans into her space then, big hands coming up to cup her face, and he pulls her into a kiss with an intensity that’s unwarranted but welcomed.
YN can feel her heartbeat in her throat, blood rushing through her ears, and her hand trembling when she wraps her fingers around his wrist.
It’s not chaste.
No, Harry is swiping his tongue against her bottom lip as the crowd goes absolutely insane, roaring and hooting.
Not to mention their friends.
At some point, the camera finds a new couple but YN is positive that they’ve kissed for much longer than they were on the screen before they both pull back.
His lips are puffy, pink, and his eyes are intent on her.
YN feels like panting and her heart jumps when he leans back in for another kiss, a shorter, more sweet one but his hand is grounding on her jaw.
“I’m Harry.”
“YN,” She smiles back at him, her hand still gripping onto him and he doesn’t seem to mind one bit as they just can’t take their eyes off each other.
“Would you want to get out of here?” Harry asks brazenly, hopefully as he appears like he wants to devour her.
YN who’s never been a risk-tasker, who’s never had a hook-up, or anyone other than Adam finds herself agreeing, “Yeah, I do.”
+++
part ii
After Harry had opened his apartment door, the arousal and excitement has warped into a trembling nervousness.
What the fuck did a random hookup look like?
YN didn’t even know if she was good at sex because Adam only had a few trusty positions that he liked.
Harry locks the door behind them, the apartment is small but cozy and clean, it smells like his cologne and the lighting is just right for the mood.
He steps up behind her, leaning down to kiss her neck, and his hands on her hips, bigger and stronger than anything she’s ever felt before.
“Do you need anything first? Bathroom, food, water?” He asks against her skin, he was forward in the way that he was already pressing his hips into her backside.
YN shakes her head, trying to keep up, “No, thank you.”
Harry laughs softly, lips smooth against her pulse, “So polite. Let me know if that changes, baby.”
Baby.
They just met and it sounded sincere, not like a corny pickup line.
Harry moves in front of her, not once ounce of shyness as he crosses his arms over his chest and tugs his shirt up and off.
He was ripped.
Surprisingly so, not that he didn’t look fit with his shirt on but YN wasn’t expecting him to have abs, a sharp vee cutting towards his groin, nor the defined muscle near his ribs.
He looks like he walked out of a magazine.
Was she being pranked?
YN didn’t think this could possibly be real life where the most handsome man she’d ever seen was stripping for her.
He moves towards his jeans, unbuckling his belt, and shimmying them off his narrow hips before kicks them to the side.
Just in his briefs and socks, his groin was prominent, and YN’s heart lurches at that because she’s only taken Adam who was a little below average in size.
His wasn’t average, she could tell from here.
A nervous flip of arousal churns in the bit of her stomach, she wanted this man so much that she felt like clenching her thighs together.
Harry’s brow knife in concern when he notices YN stood like a statue, just staring at him, and making no effort to move.
“Is everything okay?” Harry checks cautiously, stepping towards her but not touching her as he looks unsure.
Fuck, she was embarrassed again.
“Uh, ye-yeah,” Her voice cracks like a boy going through puberty, “Just my first time.”
Harry’s eyes widen in alarm, startled, “Oh fuck, I would have done shit different if I knew that you’ve never-“
YN realizes she could have used much better wording and waves her hand, “No no, I’m not a virgin. I just got out of a long-term relationship. I’ve only ever been with him. This is my first time…just randomly hooking up with someone.”
A relieved smile crosses Harry’s face, “Shit, baby. I’m glad you chose me. How could someone let you go? Prettiest face I’ve ever seen, cutest set of tits too.”
“I just might not be the best but,” YN shrugs sheepishly, this has to be the most mortifying experience ever.
“Don’t be worried ‘bout a thing,” Harry assures her as he steps forward, “Now I gotta give it my all to prove m’better than your ex.”
YN decides to take a step out of her comfort zone, reaching forward to grip him through the cotton of his briefs, and he fills her whole hand.
“You weren’t going to give it your all before?” YN teases, feeling her confidence grow by the moment as she moves to thumb over the sensitive head.
“Fuck,” He curses under his breath, eyes meeting hers under his lashes, “I was always going to, baby.”
“Mhm,” YN hums, not convinced as he twitches in her palm, easy for her already.
“Gotta get you naked, my room,” Harry’s breathing is heavier as he reaches out for her hand, guiding her towards his bedroom.
Once they’re in, it’s surprisingly big, and has a comfortable looking king-sized bed that was actually made nicely.
“Please,” YN hears him asks after a moment of her being distracted, “Let me undress you. I’m fuckin’ dying to see you.”
YN can’t help but look over his body once more and she knew she was nothing in comparison to his athletic build.
However, pushing the insecurity down, she nods with a smile for him to undress her.
It was worth the nerves.
By the time she’s down to just her panties, Harry is groaning as he acts like he’s never seen anything better in his life.
“Knew you’d have the cutest set of tits I’ve ever seen,” Harry rumbles as he ducks down to cup them in his big palms, mouth wrapping around one and sucking.
It felt amazing.
Adam didn’t pay any attention to her body when they had sex, never had, and it did feel like her first time in a way.
She wouldn’t want it with anyone else but Harry.
His hand trails from her breast down her belly, fingers dipping into the front of her cotton underwear.
“Fuck, wait,” YN reaches down to hold his wrist, cheeks warm, “You don’t have to.”
Harry pulls his mouth back from her chest, frowning as he stands up straight again, “Do you not like that?”
“It’s not that, I just haven’t you know…” YN trails off, hoping that he would catch on.
He doesn’t.
“You haven’t….” Harry repeats back, he was still soft and gentle, unhurried and patient with her as she hesitated.
YN looks past his right ear as she replies, “I haven’t shaved in a while. We’ve been broken up for a few months and I haven’t maintained-“
Harry is letting out a humored snort, leaning forward to kiss her quiet before he’s kneeling down in front of her, mouth laying wet kisses on her belly.
“Baby, you’re insane if you think I mind hair. Anyway, I can get your pussy is fine by me. I like it, knowing I’m the first to have you like this in a while,” Harry replies, voice scratchier as his arousal grows, and his lips stay on her hip as he tugs the underwear down her legs.
Adam would refuse to have anything to do with her if she wasn’t freshly shaven.
Not shaving for the past few months had felt like the most freeing experience, she hadn’t ever thought she would be randomly having a hookup or she would have shaved.
“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Harry groans when he finally gets a look at her, his thumb coming up to smooth down the downy curls that were lightly dusting her pubic bone.
“Harry,” YN giggles anxiously, “You don’t have to act like -“
“Can I get my mouth on you?” Harry cuts her off, his eyes were glued to her center, where his thumb was pressing between her folds to nudge at her clit.
YN raises her eyebrow in surprise.
Adam had rarely done that, maybe five times total in their entire relationship, and YN never requested it because it didn’t feel good enough to want it again.
“If you want,” YN breathes out, still in a bit disbelief that this man was kneeling in front of her, asking to put his mouth if her.
“If I want,” He chuckles with a shake of his head before his hands are gripping his hips a bit firmer and keeping her still.
He doesn’t waste another moment, burying his face into her center, nose bumping against the curls on her mound as his tongue swipes through the split of her.
Harry knows what he’s doing.
His lips find her clit in seconds flat but he’s grunting at her, communicating without taking his mouth off of her, and shoulders her legs apart wider.
YN reaches for balance, finding his hair as something perfect to weave her fingers into, and hold steady.
He then just casually, again refusing to take his mouth away, hefts one of her thighs over his shoulder, and makes it possible to lick even deeper.
“Harry,” YN moans kittenishly, a sound she’s never heard out of her own mouth as she tugs harshly at his hair.
He lets out his own moan between sucks and licks, nose buried in the curls, and he’s taking heavy breathes because of his refusal of air.
YN has had orgasms when she had sex with Adam, occasionally, and with her own fingers.
This was the first time someone other than herself made her come.
Holy shit, it was life-changing.
“M’close,” YN warns but by the time she gets the words out, she’s throwing her head back and bucking her hips into his mouth as she rides it out.
His hands move to grip her ass hard, bruising enough as he pushes her as close as possible to help her feel it for as long as possible.
YN realizes just how much she was tugging his hair when her fingers ache, unwinding them as she pants, “I’m sorry. I pulled your hair so hard.”
Harry sits back on his heels, face shining as he swipes his thumb across his bottom lip before sticking in his mouth.
He was fucking obscene.
“Loved it,” Harry replies, voice raspy and deeper than ever, “You tasted just as good as you look. I think I’m in love with the bush.”
YN giggles as he helps her unwind her leg from over his shoulder, he stands up and kisses her hard.
It shouldn’t be hot that she can taste herself.
“Want to see you,” YN murmurs shyly, her fingernails trailing down his stomach, his abs twitching in response.
“Yeah, baby?” Harry goads as he watches her hand, “Hopefully it’s to your liking.”
YN takes that as permission to tug his briefs down his thighs, he was beautiful here too, unsurprisingly.
YN had experience with this.
Kinda.
Adam was less than half the size, not as pretty nor as thick.
It was a bit intimidating.
Harry must sense it, pressing a kiss to her lips, and huffing when she wraps her hand around him, stroking upwards.
“S’gonna fit, nice and snug, huh?” Harry whispers sweetly before he bites her bottom lip, he takes it upon himself to reach down again.
He slips in index and middle finger through her folds, crooking them up inside of her, and cursing under his breathe.
“Baby, you’re tight,” He tells her as he goes slowly, working her open as she pumps him in slow, firm strokes.
YN bites her lip, brave as she thumbs over his shiny tip, “Fuck me, please. Want it.”
“What do you like?” Harry asks as he walks them backwards to the bed, YN landing on her back and squirming up to the middle center.
“What do you mean?” YN asks between a gasp when she feels him brush against her mound, tip bumping at her folds.
“What position gets you off the best?” Harry elaborates as he peppers kisses over her collarbone, tweaking a nipple in his fingers.
“Whatever you like,” YN replies because none get her off.
Harry glances up at her, “But what position is good for you?”
“They’re all the same, aren’t they?” YN shrugs mulishly, “I don’t usually, well, I can use my fingers in any one.”
Harry looks at her like she’s grown a second head, voice sharper, “Did you ex really never make you orgasm during sex without you using your own fingers?”
YN tucks her bottom lip between her front teeth for a moment, “He said it’s easier if I just did it so yeah.”
Harry shakes his head, a scoff of disbelief, “How did he not worship this perfect little pussy, baby? I’ve never seen anything more magnificent.”
YN tries not to let the compliment go to her head, he defiently says that to every other girl he’s been with, it’s just a line.
“Your fingers aren’t going to be anywhere near your cunt tonight,” Harry rumbles as he reaches over to his night stand, rummaging until he finds a condom and rolls it over himself.
“Sweetheart, you’re drippin’ to your bum,” Harry laughs but it’s not mean, it’s fond as he has her bend her knees and spread them.
Harry paints himself up and down her entrance, hitting the heavy weight of it against her clit a few times before pressing in.
“O-oh,” YN gasps because he’s big.
It’s not painful but it is a stretch, as he makes room for himself, and he goes slowly.
He leans down, kissing her, and murmuring encouraging words to her.
Much too sweet for a causal hookup.
“Look at you, never had anyone look so pretty while taking my cock, baby.”
“See? S’room for me, hugging me perfectly.”
“Shit, darling. Never going to want to pull out, just want to stay all tucked up inside you.”
“Fuckin’ beautiful, I can’t decide whether I want to look at your pretty face or perfect pussy. M’spoiled for choice.”
“Please, please,” YN hiccups, she feels needy as he starts to put in more force behind in thrusts, and on every odd motion, he manages to hit a spot she didn’t know she had.
The spot that barreled her towards her second orgasm, nails digging to Harry’s bicep as she squeezes her eyes shut.
“Fuck, there it is, pretty baby. Come around my cock, squeezing me,” Harry lets out a low moan when he feels her walls contract around him.
YN has never come twice like that.
When Harry reaches down to press a thumb to her clit, she squeals with the overstimulation but he kisses her and assures her that she can give him one more.
YN has pathetic, fat tears streaming down her face as her third orgasm hits her.
“There we go,” Harry croons, pleased as a peach as he kisses her damp cheeks, “Came on my tongue, on my cock twice, see how good you are for me? S’all mine, right? Only cock you’ve ever come on.”
The possessiveness in his words makes her stomach flip with something good, validating that she wanted.
“Just yo-yours,” YN manages to agree through bated breath, he was pounding into her now, barreling towards his own end.
“Good girl, fuckin’ making me come for you,” He grits out, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple as he stills, pulsing inside her, “Fuckin’ hell.”
++
YN wakes up before Harry the next morning, quietly as a mouse slipping back into her clothes, and leaving his apartment.
Was it a shitty thing to do?
Yes.
Did she do it to avoid him kicking her out after they used each other because it felt real to her and this was just plain fun for him?
Also yes.
YN guesses this is how hookups go.
++
four more parts are up on my patreon now :)
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hrryfics · 1 month
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MASTERLIST
welcome to my page! i hope you like this new and improved masterlist! there is smut, fluff and angst on this list, so sit back and relax! here is all my concepts and fics….. HAPPY READING AND REBLOGS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME! LOVE YOU GUYS :-)
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Jonah, Harry and Y/N.
Fics, concepts and very horny ideas about mean dom!Harry, soft dom!Jonah and Sub!Y/N. (smut, angst and fluff included!) (ongoing concept)
Lovers rock.
A fic about footballer!harry, husband!harry and dilf!harry. (smut and fluff included!)
Santa, baby.
A christmas surprise for Harry. (Smut included!)
Positions.
Harry’s favourite sex positions. (Smut included!)
Vampire!Harry Styles.
Vampire!Harry masterlist! (ongoing concept)
Love island!Harry Styles.
Love island!Harry masterlist! (ongoing concept)
Ghost!Harry Styles.
Ghost!Harry masterlist! (ongoing concept)
Dilf!Harry Styles.
Dilf!Harry Styles masterlist! (x nanny reader, ongoing concept)
Lover.
In which Harry is the florist next door and Y/N is the cool new celeb!
Be My Baby.
Prince!Harry and Princess Y/N can’t get enough of eachother! (Smut included)
Baby.
Princess Y/N wants a baby and she wants once now. (Smut included, if you want anymore prince!harry…. search prince!harry styles on my account!)
Harryween.
It’s Harryween and Y/N and Harry are very excited. (Smut included)
Snap out of it.
Y/N and Harry have sex in his dressing room. (Smut included)
Nothing New.
Enemies to some what lovers. Figure Skater!Harry x Figure Skater!Y/N. (Smut, angst, talks of eating disorders and abuse.)
Inhaler.
In which you’re way too good at riding Harry and he ends up needing his inhaler. (Smut included)
Movie night.
The movie was boring, so you fuck Harry’s thigh instead. (Smut included)
Grammys.
You reward Harry: letting him eat you out. (Smut included)
Wildest dreams.
In which you’ve been having sex with your dads new best friend. (Older!harry, smut included)
Love on tour.
It’s the first show for love on tour, you ease Harry’s nerves by sucking his dick. (Smut included)
Bobby. 2
Harry cheats on his wife and gets Ophelia pregnant….. he doesn’t want anything to do with her or the baby. (angst and smut included)
Deal.
Erotica Author!Y/N has some writers block, Harry gives a helping hand. (includes smut)
Sex on fire.
Harry is Y/N’s sneaky link and the campus’ resident asshole. (includes smut)
Little Lies.
Harry is the ex husband that Y/N still sleeps with. (Smut included)
Mine.
Harry is a relationship with Anaya and her and her family have a reality tv show.
Sharing is caring.
Gang leader!harry shares his wife with his best mates. (smut included)
Redbone.
Harry is your best friends dad and your boss. You still like to fuck him though. (smut included)
No Time To Die.
In which Harry bets on Y/N and she finds out. (smut and angst included)
First time.
Harry is a 27 year old virgin and Y/N is ten years older than him going through a crisis. (Smut included)
Nadia.
In which bad boy!harry says the wrong name during sex. (Smut and angst included)
Giselle.
Harry doesn’t like Y/N, but they’re put together in ballet and Y/N quite likes him. (Smut included)
Training wheels.
Dilf!Harry gets insecure about his age and takes it out on his younger girlfriend. (Angst included)
Little family.
17 things i’m convinced dad!harry does.
Adore you.
Dilf!harry and Y/N join the mile high club. (Smut included)
Miss you.
Harry is a frat boy and Scarlet has sex with him. And then she ends up pregnant. (Smut included)
Love me more.
Harry is Princess Sera’s new bodyguard. He’s grumpy and Sera just has a sexual fantasy about him. (Small bit of smut included.)
Tuesday.
Tuesday is a little naive and Harry is a drug dealer. (Smut included.)
Starting line.
A life guard and a new girl. Would could you wrong?
All too well.
The duke and Y/N are in a toxic relationship, but they just can’t seem to let each other go. (smut included)
Gold rush.
Harry and Y/N meet on the set of eternals.
Swap.
Harry and his wife Janette want to try something new. So they download an app called wife swap, in which you swap partners for two weeks and do everything you would do with your wife with that stranger. (smut included)
Parenthood.
What my tropes would be like as parents.
Dad pornstar!Harry.
fics, concepts and blurbs on dad pornstar!Harry x nanny!Y/N! (smut included)
Married at first sight.
in which Harry and Adriana meet each other on the day of their wedding day.
Can’t fight this feeling.
Nerd!Harry gets pegged by popular!Y/N. (Smut included)
Kiss it better.
Y/N and Chris are married, but are looking to spice things up in their relationship! Along comes Harry! Chris is a mean dom to Y/N, Y/N is a sub to Chris AND A DOM TO HARRY! (smut included)
I want you to love me.
IN WHICH, Y/N performs at coachella with Harry and no one knows they’re in a relationship. (Smut included)
Angel baby.
Harry and Carina are paired up for a project. Someone ends up being called mommy. (smut included)
step dad!harry.
masterlist for step dad!harry. (smut & angst included)
Harry’s house.
You do a live reacting to Harry’s house.
Youtuber!Harry.
Harry and his girlfriend react to met gala photos.
Sugar daddy!Harry.
a blurb on sugar daddy!harry (smut included)
Scott Street
In which, Y/N is an alien who escaped her planet and Harry is a nerdy human, studying her species. What could possibly go wrong?
MORE CONCEPTS ARE ON MY PAGE IF YOU SEARCH EVIE’S CONCEPTS! HAPPY READING LOVES <3
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hrryfics · 1 month
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gravity masterlist
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gravity
y/n hated physics but harry loved it, but both of them have a couple of secrets
including: shy!harry who's also a camboy, and smut (f and m masturbation, daddy kink, and lots of dirty talk) wordcount: 13k+
momentum
harry was the smartest person (y/n) knew, she just wished she could be on the same level as him.
including: tutor!harry, some fluff, and lots of smut (2 diff sections but theres f and m masturbation, a little daddy kink, and lots of dirty talk ofc) wordcount: 15k+
magnetism
harry never loved halloween night like he did this one. he just wished it could last forever
including: unofficial first date, a halloween party w drunk and flirty!y/n, and a little :( at the end wordcount: 16.5k+
tension
all (y/n) wanted to know was what changed in harry
including: a little angsty that ends sweetly, and some smut ofc (sexting w both f and m masturbation, daddy kink, and dirty talk ofc) wordcount: 12k+
impulse
harry planned the perfect date, and (y/n) couldn't believe she'd waited so long to know him
including: first date, first kiss, and new relationship fluff wordcount: 10.5k+
inertia
y/n found out something she wasn't supposed to and she wished she could take it back
including: more dates and kissing, and a very big secret revealed w a teary harry wordcount: 10k+
reflection
y/n couldn't blame harry for avoiding her but all she wanted to tell him was that she was sorry
including: angst that ends well, a little fluff and love, and smut (oral—f recieving—, squirting, and daddy mention) wordcount: 9.5k+
—————
all blurbs can be found here
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hrryfics · 3 months
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praise
in which y/n notices something isn't quite right with her professor, and harry loves chasing this little bunny
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word count: 5.5k
pairing: vamp!h and y/n (but really it's more like professor!h with a side of vampire)
warnings: this fic contains graphic depictions of sex and blood.
author's note: happy late halloween!
When y/n was little, her mother always told her to stay inside on Halloween.
She never got to go trick-o-treating like the other kids because of this, not until she was old enough to pay for her own costume, but by that time it was too late because trick-o-treating turned into bar hopping and candy turned into drinks. She took part in these activities for as long as it took for her to figure out that she didn't like alcohol or big crowds or dressing up.
Also by that time, many of the holidays took place around the time that she was stressing about papers and exams and midterms and other deadlines a college students faces around the end of the semester. She was a dedicated, busy little bee with few friends that knew her enough to know that when she's focused, theres no getting her to come out for anything, so they didn't even extend invites.
Which is why she finds herself inside, at the library, on Halloween night. She has a little ear worm of Linus writing his letter to the great pumpkin running around in her brain, but that's as far as her spooky spirit goes. The rest of it is consumed in her paper about sublime notions of nature in the latest gothic novel assigned by her literature professor, Mr. Styles.
Had it been any other teacher, she wouldn't have lingered so much on grammar, word choice, or reading her paper over and over again so that her ideas were clear and concise, but... but there was something about him. She can't really but her finger on it, but a big part of it is fear. Intimidation. He's so... commanding in the way that he carries himself. Almost menancing, his figure carrying the threat of punishment.
He walked into the lecture hall everyday dressed like a model from a vintage academia magazine. Tweed bottoms. Button up shirts. Loafers. Sleek black shoes. A pristine silver watch on his wrist. A golden chain that twinkled on his neck and disappeared into the collars of his shirts like a shooting star. Slicked back chocolate brown hair from which a single curl sometimes escaped and swayed on his forehead like the hooked tail of a monkey. Tailored pants that accentuated the litheness of his hips perfectly so, making her wonder if he had them altered to fit him exactly. A badge on a simple, black attachment pinned on his hip spelled his name underneath a coyly smirking ID picture of his face; Harry Styles. 
So y/n had a little crush.
A silly little bundle of love-misted roses perched in her heart with a ribbon and a name tag that had her English professor’s name on it. 
She tried to tell herself that it was a school girl’s crush (it literally was), but it was hard to keep her daydreams cemented underneath the rounded realm of reality when her heart kept reading into every single little interaction she had with him, knowing that all her fantasies would only ever exist in her dreams because he was an employee. He was older than her. He would never be interested in a girl, a student, like her. His serious disposition did nothing to quell her. 
In fact, it almost egged her on. The perfectionist in her wanted to be perfect for him, so be praised by him for her hard work. She wanted so badly to be his teacher's pet that it reflected in her work ethic. Every paper she turned in was better than her last, she paid rapt attention in class, took the most intricate care in her notes. She always looked her best on the days she had his class- black ballet flats with black skirts, frilly socks, cardigans and collared blouses- ever the neat student. She's every professor's wet dream, she knows this.
Yet, the approval and validation that she craved. No, needed. The validation she needed from him was never given to her, no matter how hard she worked. The notes on her paper were always asking for more, she could do better, she could be more clear, she wasn't quite*getting it. And he always left a note that she should see him in his office hours.
But she couldn't.
Y/n was sure that she would spontaneously combust is she was in an enclosed one-on-one space with him. Which was funny because many of the female students fought for that time with him. One time she heard a few girls in her class say that they tried to call him by his first name and he told them that "it was Professor Styles or Sir to them". Just listening to it second hand was enough to have her squirming. The though it, to have his striking green eyes on only her, his gravely, accented voice directed at her. It was an intoxicating though.
She could imagine it.
He would sit on the other side of his desk in that suave way of his, ankle crossed at his knee, one hand resting on the arm of his chair while the other props his chin up as his finger taps against his sharp cheekbone. He would watch her with an unwavering, predatory gaze, like he's waiting for her to make a mistake to step in and correct her. Y/n would sit in the seat across from him, her hands under her thighs to keep from fidgeting, her lips wet with her spit from how much she'd chew on them, her eyes unfocused and struggling to keep contact with him. The silence in the room would probably be filled with her 'umm's and 'like'. She'd be so nervous, and he would see right through her, and all her hard work would be diminished to nothing.
And then she would probably cry and Professor Styles doesn't really look like the type to console his students, so y/n would just embarrass herself.
So she settles for putting her all into her work, tweaking what he's made notes on from previous papers, and hoping that it's enough, that one of these days she'll she exclamation points at the end of praise instead of at the end of 'explain this'.
With a weepy, overwhelmed sigh, y/n rubbed her fists into her eyes and ran words over and over again in her head. She was the last one in the library, the light from the lamp at her desk was the only source of illumination in her little study corner. This late into the semester the school didn't close libraries, opting to not get in the way of students and their work. It was nearing midnight, and she was getting tired, but this paper was due in two days and she wanted at least one to edit it.
A little delirious from lack of sleep and anger from how difficult this was all turning out to be, y/n blinked back tears. She was a little cold and she was hungry. But she was not going to leave until this paper was finished.
She would however close her eyes, just for a little while. Y/n put her head down on the desk, telling herself that she would only rest her eyes for a few minutes, that she was not going to fall asleep.
But like every college student that snoozes their alarm twenty million times because they're just going to rest their eyes for a few more minutes, she falls asleep.
She startles awake in the dark at the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.
When she jerks upright, Professor Styles is sitting across from her, reading her paper.
***
Harry is so fucking hungry, and he's looking for a snack. Maybe even a meal if he can get away with it.
He hasn't fed in nearly a month, and normally even two weeks is pushing it. But it was the month of October, and as the holidays neared and the parties increased, so did security and people's guard. It was extra hard to find a bite now, not the kind he liked.
Sweet, pure, and innocent. Untainted flavor.
A few days ago he managed to snag a few blood bags from the campus' blood drive center, but it wasn't enough. He craved the puncture, the warmth of a body in his arms, the fresh throb of a pulse underneath his tongue. He wanted the erotic writhing of struggle and submission against his body. Many of his kind didn't share their fondness for this part, but he loved taking care of them afterwards. Making sure they were okay, steady. Sated in the same ways he was. Being a vampire came with the ability of glamour, a bit of mind influencing, so that he was able to make the situation a little more favorable on his end.
He had decided to go for a stroll, having been caught up late in his office grading papers, when he caught a hint of something sweet and familiar in the night air.
It reminded him of one his students, y/n.
She always sat in the middle of the third row with perfect posture, listened to his lectures as if he was God. Her eyes would get mooney, and if he listened hard enough (which to him wasn't really that hard because he was a vampire, he had super human hearing) he could hear her heart beat faster in the seconds that his eyes held contact with her as he talked, delicate and quick like the wings of a hummingbird. Everything she turned in was perfect. She was smart but not pretentious in her way of writing, and something about the way she wrote reminded him about the tender inside of a wrist. Her wrist.
But Harry was mean, and he liked to tease, and he could tell that y/n was waiting. She was sitting on a precipice, hanging on to his very word, her body strung taught and stressed. She was waiting on him. He was going to make her wait until he did as he asked. He wanted one on one time with her, and until then, he wouldn't give her what she wanted.
Whether she realized it or not, she was teasing him, too. In ways that y/n probably wasn't even aware of. The way she bit her lips so they were bright with her blood right underneath the surface, the promise of her heat with every exaggerated sigh she let out as she walked out of his lecture hall. Her clothes, god they killed him.
She wore these black kitten heels once, and they drove him crazy.
Now, he knows his place as Professor, and he didn't just get this job to fuck around. He enjoyed teaching and knowing secretly that he knew first had about the things he was talking about. He loved seeing how his life was absorbed by the younger faces (not that he looked old, he would forever appear to be 23). He respected others, their will, their purpose, and only went as far as his moral compass would let him to take care of his needs.
But he was a man, and he could be brought to his knees by a pretty thing like y/n.
Harry remembers that day, how his trousers were uncomfortable and he had to spend the whole time behind his podium. How he needed to slyly inch a calculating hand to the ever-growing uncomfortable center of his groin and tug the snug fabric away from their vacuum-sealed hold on his hips. It was maddening for him, but uncomfortable for her (he thinks). She never wore them again, and he suspects they may have hurt her delicate feet if the way she kept shifting was anything to go by. 
Not that he noticed.
Harry most definitely did not notice that the tip of her toes kept tittering tenderly up and around in slow, hypnotizing circles, meant to relieve pent up tension. He most definitely did not notice that the way her frilly white socks kept sliding down the slope of her ankle with every movement. Or the tantalizing trekk of her delicate fingers against the curve of her thigh, behind her knee, and a little further where the pads of her lucky fingers dug into the soft, aching- he assumed- flesh of her calves. He didn’t fucking hold his breath and become stiller than a statue to try and to hear the sweet, breathy sighs of relief that left her parted lips. No, he did not. That would be a violation of the contract he signed upon assuming his position. It would be betraying the trust of the snarky, reluctant, port-belly head of academics that judged his ambiguous resume with reluctance.
Of course he didn’t. And he wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed that he never saw them again. 
This student of his had captured his attention this semester, almost distracting him. Her smell, from what he knows the few times he caught a whiff of it amongst all the others, was sweet, yet not overwhelmingly so. It was mellowed out and warm, and the closest thing he could compare it to from the food he had as a human, was apple pie. She was warm, sweet, honeyed, with the zest of cinnamon.
He wanted to taste her so fucking badly.
Harry doesn't know if it's because he's so hungry that he's smelling her now.
Trailing after the scent with his nose leading the way like a drooling dog, he wonders- no, he knows that he won't be able to fight the urge to taste her if it's really her he finds at the end of the line.
It gets stronger in the library, but from the looks of it, it's dark and empty. From the looks of it, but Harry knows better. He can hear better and smells better, and he knows she's in here. The swift intake of her breath rings in the silence, his ears picking up on the only human sound in the buildings. The near-silent whines that sit at the base of her throat and die before they exit through her nose.
Her hearbeat.
Calm. Steady. Alive.
It sounds like a drum, low and pounding and it thrills him.
He wants to hear it beat faster and faster, like a bunny when it's being chased. He wants to hear the even paced breaths become rapid and disorganized with heightened emotion.
He can smell her, too, the delightful aroma making his fangs itch and his loins ache. Walking further into the library, the stacks of books growing dense with sharp corners and cozy study nooks, he can trace the direct path she took to her spot- the table in the corner with the lamp still on. She has her head resting on her arms, hair haphazardly strewn across the wooden table and some papers, a pencil between her fingers still.
She probably set her head down after saying she was only gong to rest her eyes. She's probably been here for a really long time, he can hear her stomach growling. Shaking his head in disbelief, he pulls the chair back with a motion that's sure to wake her up at the same time that he pinches the paper with two fingers and begins to read.
Waking with a little gasp, y/n straightened. He could pinpoint the exact moment she became fully cognizant of what was happening because her heartbeat picked up in a way that concerned him, and she became utterly still. From the corner of his eye (Harry was reading her paper, a really good paper, and hadn't looked at her. Not even once) he could see her mouth open and close a few times, words escaping her. Y/n rolled the pencil between hands that had begin to perspire and began to chew on her bottom lip.
Internally, Harry groaned. He needed to get her to stop doing that because he was imagining things that no person is his position of power needed to be imagining and his cock was fattening against his thigh. He was hungry in more ways than one for her. A part of him wanted to mark her up like he was a dog and she was his chew toy, licking and sucking and biting on the sweetest parts of her to suckle on her blood; everywhere. The other wanted to do all of those things, and not just for her blood.
He had to get her to speak.
The paper that he held in his hands was probably the best that he was going to get from her class, or maybe all of them put together. The ideas were fresh with just the perfect amount of information from his lectured tossed in for a response to the prompt on the book they were currently discussing. But he had to keep playing his game with her, he had to see her fold like a ragdoll. He wasn't going to tell her what he truly thought about it, how it was so good, how she was such a good student, how she made him so proud. How she was a good girl.
Instead he put the paper down in front of her, crossed his arms and spread his legs in the chair to give his swollen dick some room and said, "you should go home. Have a meal. Go to sleep.”
At this her shoulders sagged, and it was like watching dominoes fall against each other to release different triggers, Her lips crumpled, her chin wobbled, and her eyes blinked away a sea of crystalline tears.
Y/n stared at him, a wet look that punched his gut at the same time that it made his gums salivate and his hips itch to thrust up against the desk like a thing in heat. He looked back at her, his head tipping slowly to the side to track her gaze as it dropped. Like a predatory, he observed her with the kind of stillness that promised a charge of action. That promised death in the maw of a killer.
Her mouth did that thing where it opened and closed again, sounds that came before actual words coming out of her, but never intelligible sentences. Her heart was racing, but her lungs were doing a weird thing. Like they weren't getting enough oxygen.
"Why don't you take a deep breath , hmm? And we can talk about what's going on here," he got up from his chair and stood at the side of his desk, arms crossed and feet spread shoulder width apart, formidable. If she looked closely enough, she would be able to see a thick bulge at his crotch.
But she didn't have a reason to look. He wasn't adjusting himself. He didn't even look like it bothered him.
In fact, he looked almost... mad.
Y/n looked at him straight in the eyes, and her's went doe-like, everything in her stilling like the fawn-like creature in the way of an oncoming vehicle.
Everything, including her breathing.
He wasn't going to have her passed out before all the fun began. Needing to get a grip on her, he took a few heavy steps foward, and pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, the other hand tucking into his pocket to actually adjust himself this time because it was starting to get uncomfortable.
Tilting her face up and closer to him, he bent forward so that their noses were barely touching. Her warm breath huffed against his nose, and he had to fight the urge to roll his eyes into the back of his head.
"Breathe, y/n. You can do it," peering down at her with his jack slightly slack and his eyes at half mast, he imitated inhaling deeply, and she mimicked his motions. Her lungs expanded, and her heart slowed slightly. "That's it, darling. Again."
She gulped and her hands squeezed the fabric of the plaid tennis skirt she was wearing, bringing the hem up slightly so the thinner skin on the inside of her thighs gleamed at Harry.
Then he smelled it, and this time he didn't fight the shiver that ran through him. She was wetHis eyes closed, and a groan rolled deep in his chest. His body tensed and relaxed at the same time, like a transformation.
And when he opened his eyes, he was a different version of himself.
One that didn't give a fuck that he was a professor and she was his student.
This version only had one goal in mind: to consume her in every way he could until y/n went limp in his arms.
"Now what's the matter, little bunny?"
***
Y/n didn't know what was happening, only that something had... changed.
She might have been a quivering mess for him, but she felt the shift in him. The edge to him. The gleam in his eye. She had seen his body shiver at the same time she felt her pussy clench at his words. That's it, darling. Again. Little bunny.
He was encouraging her, not far off from what she wanted to hear from him. It stroked her muddled brain and made her feel fuzzy all over. Some of what he was saying was very inappropriate. But she could care less.
“W-what?” she mumbled, confused. She blinked so that a few tears ran down her face, and she couldn't even feel embarrassed about it.
“Y’heard me loud and clear, darling. Don’t make me repeat myself," her professor tutted.
"i'm sorry, sir. It's just that... I need to work on my paper." And she mumbled something afterwards. Low enough that he wouldn't have been able hear if he was a human. But he wasn't. That didn't mean he couldn't play with her.
"Speak up, y/n. Good girls don't mumble." His tongue was like a lashing, a reprimand, and she felt the scolding everywhere.
"It needs to be better for you, sir." Gulping, she rubbed her thighs together and shuffled in her seat. Y/n was finally one-on-one with him, and she thought she knew what it would feel like.
She was wrong.
Everything was sensitive. Hot. Cold. She was twitchy and there was this squirrley, jumpy feeling inside her. She wanted to run away like a little mouse, but she also wanted to be warmed in his hands. By his words. She wanted to hear the praise come from him so that she could stop feeling so desperate.
Y/n got like this sometimes. Whiny. Insatiable. But no one ever knew how to handle her, when to realize that she was finally full. So she was always... hungry. Like something inside her needed to be stuffed. Abused a little, maybe. She wanted to be handled and then petted. Fucked and kissed and then held. She wanted to be good.
And being like this with him, in a position that made it seem like that was possible, y/n thrummed.
Humming in realization, he stroked his knuckles down the side of her face in a caress, "and what makes you think it isn't already good?"
She leaned into his touch without realizing it, nuzzling into his hand. All she had to do now was purr. Y/n shut her eyes before speaking, "Y-you... you never-"
"Open your eyes and look at me when you're speaking, bunny." Again, the stern, scolding tone. This time it made her flinch and whimper. Her hips rocked in the chair, and he tracked the movement like a leopard in the trees ready to pounce. Y/n knew that he saw, and her face bloomed with heat.
In a breathy, chocked string of words, "you never leave nice notes on my papers, sir. All the others do, but there never any on mine and I just thought... that I n-needed to work harder to be b-better."
She shuffled again in her seat, and her professor's eyes pinched. His had trailed down to her throat, and he squeezed to hold her still.
“Stop squirming, y/n. You want to be better? Stop fucking squirming," and he released her with a small pulse at the base of her neck. He could feel his teeth bulging under his upper lip, the thrum of her life under his fingers enticing him further. Every bit of reason was escaping him. He was going to lose control. Decades of practice, of edging on months of hunger, were nothing to her allure.
He stepped back at the same time that he realized they weren't close enough.
"Stand up," he told her. He watched as she pushed the chair back and stood on wobbly knees, her gaze still searching for recognition that he had heard what she had said, that he had read between the lines and realized what she needed. "Sit on the edge of the table, facing me so we can speak properly."
When she was seated and her hands began to fiddle in her lap, he stepped close enough that her knees were almost touching his hips. And she couldn't miss it this time. The thick length of him, hard against his hip.
"S-sir?" she prompted meekly.
"You want me to leave nice notes on your papers, y/n?" He asked, settling his hands on either side of her and haunching over her so they were nose-to-nose. She could smell him, strong masculine scents of vintage leather and tobacco and bergamot.
Nodding eagerly like a dog, "mhm. Yes, sir."
"Then why didn't you come see me like I asked on every single one of those papers? You didn't listen to me, so why should I reward you?" He mouthed the words against her skin, trailing them down her jaw to her throat where he teased the skin with the tip of his nose.
The area around her neck felt scorching hot, his lips trailing searingly against her. She couldn't hide how desperate she was anymore. She arched, her body was taught, fighting the urge to wriggle because she couldn't decide if she wanted to get away from him or have more of him, and she needed to be good. He had told her to stop squirming.
"I'm sorry, Professor."
Y/n closed her eyes and tentatively braced herself against him. Trembling hands settled on his arms, thick with deceptive muscle. She could feel the strength hiding beneath the surface, tense like a snake preparing to strike. A strong hand settled at her waist, clamping like iron, and another on cupped her jaw tenderly. It was a dichotomy of treatment. Rough and tender at the same time.
"You were a bad girl, y/n."
Then she felt it, a sharp sting where her throat met her shoulder, where Harry was biting her, and licking her, and suckling at her all at the same time. A mixture of a squeal and a moan jumped out of her, and she dug her fingers into his arms, frozen. Whatever he was doing to her hurt. But it hurt in a good way. A way that made her ache with that need to be filled.
She cried out, "I'm sorry, sir." A wet apology that bared how anguished she was.
His hot tongue flattened against her, and she she vibrated in the place where he left his heavy pant, "are you going to be good for me, bunny?"
"Yes, sir. I wanna be good, please," her head was bobbing in that earnest way again, but with his head in the crook of her neck he could only feel the movement against his hair.
He suckled a little more at bite that was already beginning to close, kissing it tenderly, "gonna be my good little bunny?"
Y/n was huffing, not even bothering to hide that she was horny, “please, p-please- I need-”
“Tell me exactly what you need. C'mon, you can do it,” he coaxed her. The hand at her hip molded the flesh there, pulling her closer to him so she was sitting just at the edge, and her knees were pressed into his dick with the lightest pressure. He bucked against her, a slow roll of his groin against her delicate bare knee.
“I need to cum, sir. I need-” 
“Don’t-” he pinched her hip roughing, his thick eyebrows furowing in disapproval, “forget your manners, little bunny. Rude darlings don’t get to cum.”
"Please let me cum, Professor," she repeated, eyes glossy but no longer with tears. This was something else. Something needy. Y/n could feel her slick juices seeping through her panties and making the insides of her thighs sticker. The triangle of cloth was sticking to her, and the tight feeling of it against her clit made her want to scream. It was just barely pushing, a teasing sensation that was driving her crazy.
She wanted him to touch her. To rub her swollen clit until she drenched hand in her cum, and then to- to-
"I'm not sure I should, y/n. You didn't listen to me. Didn't come to my office. Instead I had to come find you here. What about me, hmm? What if I need something from you?" Harry leaned back, letting his hands run down so they rested on her knees and his fingers could play with the hem of her skirt.
"Whatever you need, sir. Please." Y/n was beginning to sound a little broken. Her hips struggled to stay planted on the desk and her knuckled turned white from how hard she gripped the edge of the wood. She would much rather touch him, but he was too far away and she didn't want to upset him. She stared at him, silently pleading for his hands to creep up and shove into her panties, to play with her hole.
"Right now I need to eat you, little bunny. Are you going to let me?" He tilted his head at her again, calculating. Waiting, observing.
"Yes!" Y/n shrieked, her thighs trembling.
"Spead these pretty thighs, darling. Let me have a taste," he crooned down at her as she opened up, her skirting riding so he could see her panties, how wet they were, nearly transparent with her arousal. With a deft finger, he pulled the gusset of her panties to the side and dropped to his knees.
Y/n whined at the look on his face. Mouth parted, eyes half-lidded and downturned. He looked hungry. Desperate.
Without warning he leaned forward and covered her with his mouth, his tongue licking her and then dipping into her pussy to collect what had pooled at her opening, his teeth lighting tapping against her clit. He thrusted his tongue into her once, twice, three times, and that was all it took. A gush of wetness coated his tongue, and her tremors pulsed against his lips.
He leaned back and slapped her cunt with an angry growl, and then shoved two fingers into her, fucking her roughly so his fingers got wet with her, "seriously, y/n? Did I give you permission to cum?"
"N-no, sir," as she sat hunched over his kneeling form still twitching, Harry shoved his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean of her, and then stood up, not even bothering to lay her panties right before yanking her to stand.
"Get up. We're going to walk to my rooms. Your'e doing to do so quietly, and when we get there, you're going to take your punishment like a good girl, do you understand me?" With a single finger pointed at her, y/n understand she was in for it. Her hands flew to pick up her things, showing her papers into her bag and looping it on her shoulder so she was ready to go.
"I understand, Professor"
He took the bag off her shoulder and laid a hand on her lower back, keeping her at his side as he led her out of the library and into the night, "that's better. Come this way. The night is still young, bunny, and we're both in for a treat."
*****
happy halloweenie!! hoped u liked this heehee. missed mr. vamp. lmk ur thoughts!!!
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hrryfics · 3 months
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empty parks and a shaky photo booth
2.7K
pure smut!
hii! me and anna ( @for-fucks-sake-h ) wrote this in the span of almost 3 days and i couldn’t ask for anyone better than her because her writing skills are so amazing!! i hope you all like it! <3
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“What if we get caught?”
“We’re not stealing anything love,” he chuckled as he led you across the parking lot. His fingers were warmly interlocked with yours. The cool summer nights air licked across your skin, a shiver running down your body. You pulled Harry’s borrowed camel colored cardigan back up from where it slipped off your shoulder. The softness on your skin and his cologne lingering on the fabric warmed you just as much as the extra layer.
Keep reading
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hrryfics · 3 months
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Hi my loves! This is an update to this fic here, or “Harry’s a dick and Y/N hates him for it.” Let me know how you like it and thank you for the lovely anon who requested it!
-masterlist-
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Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this. It didn’t matter how long they had been dating or how many times he’d kissed Y/N or been inside her; it never got old. The feeling of Y/N’s desperate cunt squeezing him so tightly he sometimes worried the blood supply to his throbbing prick would stop or her whines and sobs that shook her whole body as Harry slammed into her. It was just something that brought Harry so much joy.
And really, today was no different. He could still feel Y/N as tight as ever around him, could still see her legs shake with each precise thrust into her squelching cunt, and he could still revel in the breathy moans she let out each time he pushed and ground that little bit deeper than usual.
The main difference, really, was that he could see her expression in the reflection of the elevator doors, the familiar clinch between her brows apparent and her cute mouth parted around moan after moan. He could see her as she tried desperately not to hit any of the buttons as Harry expertly pressed against her clit, settling for slamming her hand against the wall of the elevator next to her, her handprint leaving a little ring of condensation when she brought it down to hold Harry’s other hand currently on her waist.
Was it risky? Sure. But they could only spend so long trapped inside a small confined space together before something similar happened. It wasn’t Harry’s fault the elevator had broken down, leaving them suspended somewhere between the associates and the analyst’s floor. And it wasn’t Harry’s fault that Y/N had given him those fucking eyes she always seemed to have around him. Really, he was a victim in this scenario, and his vixen-like girlfriend was the perpetrator.
“Fuckin’ hell Harry, you’re gonna make me cum.” And well, maybe Harry wasn’t entirely blameless in this scenario. He leans over to kiss Y/N’s neck, instantly wishing they were somewhere more private so he could get her completely naked, feel the dip of her back pressed against his chest as he thrust into her. He’d just have to make do. Each push into her sent a gust of Y/N’s shampoo mixed with sweat towards him, the smell quelling his urge to feel Y/N’s skin against his own. He just loved her so much.
“C’mon baby. Let me feel it,” he mutters between ground teeth, the feeling of her squeezing around him just a little too good. She shakes her head, “more, I need more. Please Haz!” So he leans down, grabs her thigh and pulls, resting her foot against the bannister running the circumference of the lift. She whines as he pushes at her lower back, forcing her to arch it. The new angle is intense for both of them, Y/N’s groans increasing in pitch, and Harry feels the telltale tingles of an impending orgasm beginning in his groin. He pushes in at a slightly different angle, aiming to find her g-spot again now that their position has shifted. It’s obvious that he finds it when Y/N cries out, leaning down and resting her head against the panel of buttons, her hand grappling to find anything to hold on to and the buttons glowing golden as she pushes against them. He pushes in again and again, bringing his hand back down to her clit, rubbing in sloppy circles, giving her the most pleasure he can with the slightly awkward angle.
It doesn’t take long, Harry feeling the telltale shake of Y/N’s thighs, her hands reaching down to grab at his wrist neatly tucked between her thighs and squeezing as hard as she can. Harry’s not sure he’s ever heard her make this much noise, a sharp gasp followed by mindless babble, like every thought that came into her head was being pushed out with each movement of his hips. Her head falls back against her shoulders, and Harry watches in the reflection of the walls as her mouth falls open and her eyes roll backwards. “Fuck, fu- fuck! Harry, fucking hell. You feel so fucking good.”
It’s music to Harry’s ears, and it makes his orgasm approach even quicker. He feels the buildup starting in his groin, euphoria spreading outwards until all of his limbs feel weightless, and he waits for the fall, where he knows his orgasm will be ripped out of him.
“Wait, Harry wai- come in my mouth please.” Harry feels his whole body shudder. It takes everything in him to pull away from the warmth of Y/N’s pussy, a second longer, and he knows it would’ve been too late. He has his eyes closed but feels movement in front of him, and it’s only when he feels a small hand on his hip, right next to where his leaking cock is no doubt dripping, does he open them again. The sight in front of him is enough to make him come completely untouched, only having time to grab the head of his dick and press it against Y/N’s open mouth, the head bumping against her plump, spit-slicked lips. Y/N’s hair is completely messed up, half out of the ponytail it was tied in, flyaways in her face from turning around so quickly, her eyes rimmed with tears and rolling as she finally tastes Harry’s cum.
Once Harry’s orgasm starts to slow, he lets out a deep breath, small tremors making his legs shake as he rests his hand against the wall of the elevator behind Y/N. He almost faints when she flicks her tongue forward and around his head, humming as she tastes the tartness of her own cum smeared against it, mixing with the heady taste of the remaining drops of his seed. Harry whimpers, pulling her head away with a tight grip on what was left of her ponytail, letting out a groan at the way she fights against him to keep licking at him.
“Enough, sweetheart, you’re gonna kill me prematurely if ya keep it up.” She flashes him a sly grin, giving one more hearty lick before taking the hand he’s offering her, straightening her shirt and fixing her skirt that had become skewed in the process. “Who would I let fuck me in elevators if you were to cark it this early, hm?”
Harry lets out a breathy chuckle, tucking himself back into his pants and zipping up his fly before reaching out to her. He swipes a thumb against the corner of her mouth where a stray drop of cum had been left, bringing it back up to his own mouth and sucking the salty liquid off the pad, watching as Y/N’s hungry eyes follow the movement.
“Dunno, I’ll haunt whoever you choose anyway.” Y/N’s eyes dart back up to his, humour and love filling them as she laughs. They both startle as a resounding ding sounds through the elevator, the lift jumping and groaning as it begins to move again. They don’t have much time to recover before the doors open, and Y/N steps closer to him and grabs his hand instinctively.
Luckily, it’s Sarah and Mitch standing in front of them. Harry feels a rush of cool fresh air he hadn’t known he was missing until he felt it and watches as Sarah’s eyes dart back and forth, up and down, probably taking in their disheveled hair and clothes.
“Really, guys?” Sarah says as she rolls her eyes. Mitch steps into the elevator, his nose immediately scrunching as he quickly steps backwards. “It fuckin’ reeks of sex in there! Jesus Christ Harry!” Harry laughs while a mortified Y/N hides her face in Harry’s shoulder.
“We’ve been waiting for like fourty minutes!” Sarah whines.
Dramatic as ever, Mitch throws his hands up and turns on his heel.
“Nah fuck this, I’m takin’ the stairs.”
356 notes · View notes
hrryfics · 4 months
Text
Masterpost
Longer Works
Already Broken [ch. 2] [ch. 3] [ch. 4]
From London and Back [pt. 2/2]
Oh, It’s You
Little Assistant
Little Miss Bossy
Roomies
Sorry for What? [pt. 2/2] 
Upstairs I Downstairs (An Edwardian Period Piece)
Shorter Works
Adulting
Attitude
Bad Day
Because I can
Breakfast
Crabs (The Steamed Kind)
Daddy, please?
Drunk!Harry
Early Mornin’
Filthy in More Ways Than One
Flu Shot
Fruit Aisle Moans
Games
Grumpy
Harry’s a Cheater (at games)
Harry Cheats (in your dream) and You Get Mad (in real life)
Harry’s Feeling Playful and You’re His Favourite Toy
Harry Hates Coasters, You Love Them, a Deal is Made
Harry Steals All the Covers
He’s Not That Great
I’ll Be Good for you, Daddy [ pt.2 ]  [ pt. 3 ]
I Own You
It’s Girls’ Night, Harry Ruins It
I Win
Kale is the New Apple
Lazy Love
Listen
Mad
Naughty For You
No Control
Not More Than That
Orange [pt. 2]
Please Don’t  [pt. 2] [pt.3]
Push-N-Pull
Quarantine [2] [3] [4] [5]
Shopping w/Harry
Shopping w/Healthy Harry
Smug!Harry 
Tell Me You’re Mine
Try Me
Turn Me On
(Un)Fun on the Road
You’re Hyper, He’s Harry
You’re a Nervous Flyer…Harry’s Helpful?
You’re Not Jealous
You’re Poorly, Harry’s Persistent
BTS
Defy
Bandmates
MCU (Basically Peter Parker / Spiderman)
I Want to be a Real Boy Protocol
Squeaky Clean
Tag-Along
Peaky Blinders
Already Broken
Finn Shelby Character Study [pt. 2]
2K notes · View notes
hrryfics · 4 months
Text
“Where’d your manners go?” He chastised her and Y/N frowned, “That’s one way to get kicked out of a feeder’s booth, I’ll tell you that much. You don’t just go biting when and where you want.” 
She understood though that didn’t make him setting her up to do it any less annoying. Y/N placed her hands in her lap, waiting patiently, albeit irritated as he held his wrist back out, “Alright, you walk into a booth and I’m the feeder, how do you think you start?” 
Brows furrowed, she guessed, “Can I drink from you, please?” 
Harry sighed, “Have you ever heard of asking someone how their day is?” 
or
Y/N needs to practice drinking blood and Harry's happy to help
[WARNING: Period sex (oral)!]
part 1
ii.
Y/N used to get nightmares often when she was younger. 
There was no deeper meaning to them, at least she didn’t think so. Her subconscious was plagued with endless fears because when she was little, everything was scary. The dark, the basement in her home, scary drawings in books, the shadows on the wall when the nightlight in her room illuminates just a small corner, the groan of the walls settling, the thought of what may lurk beneath her bed and in her closet. When she got older, the subject of her dreams changed as her fears did so the creepy crawlies that skulk around are in the shape of people her age, public speaking, random and intense changes in her appearance, and rejection. They just mirror her anxieties at the time in a misty, claggy haze where her limbs don't move quickly enough, and her mouth feels clogged with puddy every time she tries to speak. 
So what does a new vampire have to fear? 
The format of the dreams is the same; a turbid view of things that make no sense and too much sense. Dark and shadowy figures, a maw dripping with blood, her heart thudding so loud, echoing in her brain. It was silent, around her ears, and her lungs filled with water like being dropped to the bottom of the ocean with a weight around her wrists. Her neck is sticky with something awful, pain throbs all around it, and she wants to move – she thinks she’s moving, but she’s pretty sure she’s only writhing in agony. It’s silent until it’s not – until her ears are ringing. Her mouth won’t open, she can’t scream for help, can’t ask the person hovering over her why they did what they did, can’t tell them to stop apologizing because they’re being too loud. . . 
I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I – 
“Y/N,” she startled awake, her hand flying to grab whoever careful palm rested on her shoulder – her fingers loop around their wrist tightly, but they don’t budge or move or tell her to fuck off, they just keep talking, “I have some blood for you.” 
It’s Christopher. Y/N had been facing the wall adjacent to the door, so she twisted around and pressed up from the mattress to face him. His hand fell away from her shoulder, swaying back at his side and when she met his gaze it was soft and warm as it always is, “You were having a nightmare,” he noted, like he was informing her, “Otherwise I wouldn’t have woken you.” 
“Thank you,” she murmured – sleeping is the same so far for her, but she’s able to reorient to the world around her much quicker than she could as a human; there’s no grogginess lingering and making her feel out of body, “Was I being loud?” 
He smiled gently, “No,” he assured her, tucking the wisps of his hair sticking out back up into the beanie he wore. Christopher appears tired but she doesn’t really know if he sleeps – he seems to be up at all hours making sure she eats. Y/N knows at some point the necessity for sleep dissipates, but a lot of vampires – even the older ones – do it to pass the time, mostly (“Who the hell would want to be awake all hours of the night and day? What is there to do but sit and mull over useless things?” Harry had grumbled when she’d asked him).  “But you were whimpering and thrashing a bit, normally you’re pretty still.” He held the mug out to her, and Y/N took it gratefully, “Do you want to talk about it?” 
She shrugged, “There isn’t much to. . .to talk about,” her brows furrowed, pulling the mug to her mouth, “I think my brain is trying to remember something but it can’t, so it’s just annoying.” 
Christopher hummed, settling his hands back into his pockets – he’s in a hoodie that’s about two sizes too big for him, and sweatpants. Y/N wondered if he was still in the habit of dressing like a human too, or if being half-human actually made him susceptible to the cold. Either way, even Y/N could tell it was ice cold in the house like Mitch was pumping the air conditioner despite the frost on the windows in the morning. 
 “I used to have those too,” he told her, “Same with Niall. They get better. Clearer.” 
Before Y/N could inquire what his nightmares were about and if they resembled hers at all, Harry appeared at her door with a small frown on his mouth. Y/N has been good at differentiating his scent from other smells, but when Harry has been lingering in the house for a while, she struggles to decipher when he’s coming and from what direction. The whole place smells like him, almost as if he’s dragging his body along the walls he passes, so it is a surprise to see him in the doorway so suddenly. 
“When are you going to start making her be a big girl and warm up her own blood?” Harry griped, arms crossed over his chest – he was always dressed so well, in a long sleeve shirt she was certain she’d seen on a celebrity recently and pleated trousers. Where was he going that he always needed to look so good? Honestly, where could any of them go? Deep in the night? Without wanting to drain every vein they smelled?
She mirrored his frown and Christopher snorted, always seemingly amused by their back and forth, “Leave her be, Harry, you know I don’t mind.”
“I bet you don’t,” Harry replied snidely. Y/N doesn’t understand what he meant, but it seems like Christopher did; whatever it was, he doesn’t seem threatened or perturbed by Harry’s comment. Y/N wondered how long they must have known each other for Christopher to merely accept Harry's disgruntled nature. She’s still getting used to it herself, especially when he turns to face her, “You sleep too much and you isolate yourself in here, Mitch is starting to worry you’re depressed,” he relayed, “Shower and get dressed, you’re meeting the others.” 
Y/N wriggled in her spot, “You told me sleep was important for the first couple weeks to months.” 
“It is important,” Harry agreed, “Just as important as socializing with someone other than your feeder, your mentor, and your horrendous room neighbor.” He walked to the closet, sidestepping the cat-shaped bean bag that Niall had left. The door has already opened a crack, so all he has to do is slide his hand against the panel to open it the rest of the way. Y/N had tried to make it as home-like as she could, for her own sanity's sake, and she’d even asked Harry if they could go visit her flat so she could get a few decorations as Niall had suggested. He’d promised her they would soon but hadn’t gotten around to it yet because. . .well, actually, Y/N doesn’t know why. 
Harry had been acting a little weird around her lately. Or, at least what feels weird for how he’s presented himself to her so far; she guesses she hasn’t known him long enough to know all the idiosyncrasies of his personality yet. But he had definitely been acting a bit different for about a week now, ever since she had tried drinking from him the first time. He’d rushed off to grab her the books he’d spoken about, and then he wasn’t even the one to bring them to her (Christopher did), which left her a little confused. When she saw him again two days later, he was in a pissy mood, and that same pissy mood had somewhat been lingering beneath the surface each time he came to visit. It surpassed his standard displeased, teasing manner. Maybe something was happening above her head, in the vampiric world that she wasn’t all that privy to yet, but still, she doesn’t see why she’s receiving the brunt of his anger. 
And he’s barely done any sort of training with her. He’d spoken about reintroducing herself to the sun relatively soon but they’d made no move to do it – they hadn’t left the house either for a forest game. Y/N wanted to question why progress had been halted all of a sudden, but Harry didn’t strike her as someone who would willingly give that information up. Maybe she could ask Niall, who always seemed to know more about Harry than Harry would care to admit. Or Christopher, who was giving him a knowing gaze right now that she had a feeling was pissing Harry right off. Either was bound to give her a more accurate answer than him. 
Harry returned to her bed, dropping one of her nicer-looking sweatshirts (her university’s emblem on it in an applique untarnished by the washer yet) and jeans down on the bed, “You don’t have many clothes I deem suitable for a first meeting, but these will do.” 
Her brows still knitted, she pulls the sweater over to her, running her palm over the lavender fabric and noting how much softer it feels somehow. This (new? She doesn’t know if it counted as new) body just made things look and feel different – better. Even when her skin still feels jittery and itchy like she needed to crawl out of it when she’s able to look past that, the sheets feel more like silk, the air is buzzing alive around her, and her clothes feel like they’d been spun with the finest fabrics. She hadn’t gotten to the part of the books that describes that – she doesn’t even know if there is a part that describes that – they’ve mostly just been history lessons up to this point. 
“I have more nice clothes,” she argued while she crawled out of the bed, “You just didn’t bring any when you first went.” 
“And you know what, I don’t remember hearing any gratitude for me having to go sift through all your shit the other week either.” 
This is what she meant – he’d been so much more irascible lately and it was getting a bit frustrating. She’d thought they had at least made some progress through the time he spent teaching her, but they’ve only gone back to square one. . .God, maybe even before that! He’s being tetchier than he had from the start, for sure. And the only thing that she could think of that had changed between then and his sudden change in attitude was her drinking his blood. Is that what would happen to her? Would anyone she drinks from suddenly become a huge, quick-tempered asshole? If that was the case then she didn’t want to drink from anyone at all!
“What’s your problem with me lately?” She gathered the outfit he laid out for her regardless, bundling it up in her arms with a frown, “You’ve been really rude, and –” you’re hurting my feelings, is the bit that she kept to herself. Isn’t a mentor supposed to be the person who’s meant to make you feel good, more at ease, and less nervous? For a second that’s what he had been – when he’d show up at her door, worries and anxieties that had clustered throughout their time apart would settle some. Not extinguished, but the fire of them would puff and smoke out, just burning embers for her to deal with later. Now she’s worried any little thing she could say or do might set him off. 
“My problem is –” 
“He needs to eat,” Christopher cuts in from his spot on the chair, and he’s so good at melding into the background she’d almost forgotten he was there, “Harry’s always been more touchy when he’s hungry. Sharing with you a week ago has made it a necessity that he eats again sooner but he’s being stubborn for some reason.” 
Harry narrowed his eyes at him, “Have you ever heard of keeping your thoughts to yourself?” 
“So you’re mad at me because you’re hungry?” Y/N reiterates, “Shouldn’t you have eaten more if you knew you were gonna feed me too? Just eat again so you can stop being such an ass.” 
He sighed, low and slow, the defensive shoulders he’d had squared out now slumping with his exhale and his eyes fluttered shut. It was the same look he’d given her when he started feeling guilty about being so blunt with her when she’d first changed, his gaze softened like he might actually be considering her feelings for once. Y/N would have started to think that empathy was something you lost over time, but Mitch would discredit that as a possibility. Harry’s ability to empathize comes and goes like the ebbing of a tide; she wondered if he was this insufferable as a human too. 
“It isn’t. . .that simple. You wouldn’t understand this yet,” he shook his head, “I’m sorry for being a dick, okay? I’m not good at this. . .mentoring thing all of the time, that’s why I’m shocked Mitch keeps pushing it on me.” He opened his eyes again with much less rage than what had been present before, now he just looked worn down. . .hungry, “But you do need to meet the others. I already told them you’d watch a movie in the den tonight and they know not to bombard you with too many questions. Plus Niall is there too, and he scares all of them so if they start getting too nosy, he’ll shoo them away.” 
Y/N swallows, nodding gently, and also taking a step back, “Alright,” she answered, “I will. I don’t – I can practice biting with someone else if you –” 
“No,” he answered pretty quickly, and Y/N stuttered and fumbled over whatever the rest of her sentence was going to be, “You will not. We’ll practice again tomorrow, okay? Before bed.” 
He pivoted on his heel and stalked out of the room, Christopher pressed up from the chair to follow suit, “Don’t let his mood swings get you too worked up,” he told her.
“Okay,” she worried her nail into the pad of her thumb, “It just feels like – it sucks to have a mentor that doesn’t like you a lot.” 
He snorted, “You don’t have to worry about that, Babe. I can guarantee he likes you – you’d definitely know if he didn’t.” 
If this is how Harry treated people he liked then she really didn’t want to know how he treated someone he didn’t. 
                                                           .                          .                         .
Meeting with the others isn’t so bad. 
She meets them the day after, rather than yesterday, when Harry is irate and pushy. The movie night that they had scheduled got pushed off because. . .Christopher said something about someone named Matthew not getting back from his own excursion into the human world until too late. So they rescheduled, and Y/N was glad to have more time to mentally prepare.
The den is rather big, but there are only a handful of people in there; Naomi (who she’d bumped into in the hall, tried to pay her for the cat paw seater, and promised she would come out of her room soon) and Vivianna are two of them. They greet her just as warmly as they had the first time, offering her the seat beside them. There’s Matthew, who is nice enough and introduces himself to her with a fist bump, and Theodore and Samuel who lounge near the fire, wave and smile brightly at her. There’s a woman named Delphine who is relatively quiet but gives her a small nod to acknowledge her existence, and Saskia, who has her leg kicked up over Delphine’s thighs, is the one who grins and almost immediately inquires how she ended up there.  
“So a big shot producer bit you, huh? Was it Jason Blum? I wouldn’t be surprised, that fucker seems like he has plenty of secrets.” 
Y/N’s confused at first until she remembered that Harry had lied to them from the start, “Oh, that’s – Harry was joking about that,” she shook her head, “I’m not an up-and-coming anything, I’m a computer engineer.” 
“Computer engineer? Jesus Christ –” 
“I told you guys Harry was a lying fucker!” Samuel, who has brown hair and freckles smattered over his cheeks, exclaimed from his spot, “Remember when he said Niall was the drummer of some garage band? I’m starting to think he’s just making shit up that he would’ve done if he were human.” 
“To be fair, we should’ve known he was lying about that one. Niall can barely pour blood into a mug without making it all messy.” Naomi noted from Y/N’s left, and Vivianna murmured her assent before Samuel pressed some more. 
“Well, what happened then, really? How did you get changed?” 
“I reckon it isn’t polite to just ask people that outright,” Vivianna suggested, but she still seemed to be curious, turned toward Y/N, and awaiting her response. Y/N does open her mouth – she’s going to tell them that she doesn’t really remember, then apologize that it’s a lackluster story, not one of a rising star, of betrayal, of heartache. Instead, it’s a tale of lost memories, and. . .well, there’s not a whole lot you could do with that but theorize. 
Theorizing why she was out with someone. Theorizing if she was actually on a date or not. Theorizing if she was trying to put herself out there after what happened because being stuck on an unrequited crush is embarrassing and shit for teenagers, not adults. Theorizing if she could go through the mental gymnastics of blaming him for the situation she was in now. Theorizing why she couldn’t have just forgotten about him instead of the night she was changed. 
“Enough,” Niall sliced through the air, his presence heavy in a way that Y/N knew Harry had been telling the truth – they were scared of him, “Leave her be, she’ll tell you when she’s ready unless each one of you would like to share the grueling details of how you were nearly murdered.” 
Saskia frowned, pink lips pouted, and Y/N knew she was upset but couldn’t help thinking she probably belonged on the cover of an album; something riddled with candy-coated high school angst.  A CD Y/N’s older cousin would have had in the middle console of her car junior year when she drove her to the mall after school one day (she promptly lost track of Y/N talking to a pretty cashier, and her mall bonding privileges had been revoked by Y/N’s parents), “You’re no fun,” she grumbled at him, but still, Y/N can tell they were all willing to give up quizzing her. 
Niall makes himself comfortable in the space beside Y/N’s legs, his shoulder against her knee. Y/N can’t help but wonder just how unruly he’d been at the start to get that sort of response. She makes a note to ask Christopher later, who comes ambling in with a mug that she knew was radiating heat through his palms. He hands it to Niall, who Y/N understands is now the second youngest. The others still eat from the baggies, but not as often as Y/N and Niall need them, so she typically doesn’t see anybody nursing the mugs between their palms. 
Y/N was a little jealous, her mouth watering at the sight, at the smell, and it was kind of hard to rip her gaze away from it but she managed. Normally, by this time, Y/N had drunk at least a couple of mugs by now but Christopher had to break it to her that Harry told him to cut that in half so she could feed from him adequately. She didn’t really get it, but then again she didn’t get most of this vampire shit, so she didn’t question them either – only reluctantly resigned to the fact that it would feel like her insides were burning from the hunger making her twist up. 
As if he could read her mind (or feel her gaze), Niall held it out to her, “Have a sip.” 
“Harry said –” 
“Do you think I give a fuck what that prat says?” Niall’s brows raised, and it was too close to not be tempting – Y/N leaned in, took the lip of the mug between her lips, and took a small drink. It soothes the growing ache in her throat, even just a little, and she withdraws before she can get greedy and take anymore. Niall seems pleased, before settling back in his spot and commenting that if they pick a shitty movie, he’ll drain them all of their prior meals. 
Niall has always been kind to her, in his own way. Y/N wondered why that was because he seems to dislike almost all the others, or at least that’s the vibe he gives off. Though he tolerated Christopher, Y/N was sure that was because he provided him with food. Maybe he was just a grumpy sod to begin with, or maybe she had just narrowly avoided his initial tirade so he doesn’t have any sour, fresh vampire memories of her to make him angry. The very fact that he started to dislike Harry because he was similar to an ex-boyfriend was proof enough that he could hold an impressive grudge. 
Y/N halfway pays attention to the movie, halfway pays attention to the group dynamics; how the group molds together, the spots they fill, who likes who, who tolerates who. It seemed like everyone was already split off into the pairs of the person they felt most comfortable with – Delphine and Saskia, Samuel and Theodore, Naomi and Vivianna. She thinks maybe Niall was supposed to be Matthew’s person, but Matthew seems content to just float around the room, picking spots to flop his body, bothering someone new (though he steers clear of the angry blonde on the floor beside her). 
It was nice, not too scary, and they didn’t make her feel weird or new. Y/N talked some but wasn’t forced to speak a lot, and she could tell that she’d get along well with Naomi, Vivianna, and probably Theodore the most. Niall surprisingly doesn’t mind them talking during the movie, which is a surprise, but he seems happy as long as they aren’t talking to him. 
By the time the movie was finished, Y/N was tired and hungry. She wondered how long her body would be at constant war with itself if she wasn’t lying down with her eyes closed or moseying around her room with her belly full. And she didn’t want to ask about it anymore because everyone always seemed about three seconds from cooing at her like she was a baby (her body was surely acting like she was one). Plus, she could smell Harry, and she didn’t know if he was actually home or if her brain was hallucinating a potential food source, like she’d been left in the desert, seeing a mirage of an oasis. 
Nobody attempted to make her linger, but she thinks that’s mostly because Niall stood up, cracked his knuckles and his back then motioned for her, “Come on.” Y/N is grateful for the easy escape, waving at everyone, and telling them it was nice to meet them. Part of her thinks that Niall just noticed she was over the socializing, and part of her thinks he wants to treat her as a new recruit to instill additional fear in their other roommates. Whatever the reason, she decided she wouldn’t investigate any further. 
“You did well,” Niall spoke to her when they were further from them, much like he would a conscript, “Those nosy fucks always want to know the nitty-gritty details before they deserve it. Nobody deserves anything from you on the first meeting.”
Niall dropped her off at her door, Y/N thanked him, and he was gone in the blink of an eye – not to his room. Y/N doesn’t know where he goes when he isn’t in his room because he isn’t necessarily allowed to leave the house alone yet. If she asked, Y/N knew he would tell her, but she didn't. It feels like maybe there aren’t a lot of things you could keep private in a place like this, with vampires who have keen noses and an uncanny ability to read between the lines when you’re lying. She figured if Niall could fool at least one person, and keep them in the dark, then she’d let it be her for now. 
The closer they had made it to Y/N’s room, the more potent Harry’s smell had become, so she didn’t know why she was so shocked to open the door and see him waiting for her there. He’s on the gifted cat paw pillow, but whereas both Niall and Christopher can sit on it without looking too out of place, Harry is a comical sight. His legs are outstretched wide like he’s hoping to trip someone passing by, and his nape rests on the ridge of the cat paw at the top of the chair, on the little toe pads. He looks exasperated and dramatic, his arms are hanging off the sides and his fingers absently twist at the fibers of the rug laid out, tugging. If she hadn’t just spent the last hour and a half with Niall, she would have thought that Harry's just spent five minutes with him. 
He noticed her presence before she could open her mouth, whining, “Christ, what did you guys watch Lord of the Rings? You were gone forever.” 
“When did you get here?” 
“Doesn’t matter,” he pulled his legs back in, sitting up straighter, “You’re hungry aren’t you? I ate enough for the both of us – honestly, I ate too much,” he rests his hand on his belly, but Y/N knows from the books he’d had her read that, that’s not where you feel it when you gorge. It’s more heady, like floating, there’s a fullness in your stomach immediately after but that quickly dissipates as the body rapidly absorbs it. At least that’s what she’d read happened, “And you’ll tell me if you feel. . .different, after, okay? Any sort of difference, I want to know about it.” 
Y/N blinked at him, nodding, “Okay?” She closed the door behind her softly, and when she saw he was making no move to get up from the cat chair, Y/N lowered to the floor beside him. Harry’s holding his arm out, so she scoots close, her mouth already watering at the prospect of getting to eat properly after he’s ordered Christopher to starve her. She takes his wrist in her hands and brings it to her throat, but he scoffs, tugging it out of her grip. 
“Where’d your manners go?” He chastised her and Y/N frowned, “That’s one way to get kicked out of a feeder’s booth, I’ll tell you that much. You don’t just go biting when and where you want.” 
She understood though that didn’t make him setting her up to do it any less annoying. Y/N placed her hands in her lap, waiting patiently, albeit irritated as he held his wrist back out, “Alright, you walk into a booth and I’m the feeder, how do you think you start?” 
Brows furrowed, she guessed, “Can I drink from you, please?” 
Harry sighed, “Have you ever heard of asking someone how their day is?” 
Y/N huffed out a breath – was this really necessary? She probably wouldn’t be able to even be around humans for the next month or so, let alone in a booth with a human willing to let her bite them, so why were they getting the script down now? When she’s so hungry that she feels like she could wither away? Maybe it was dramatic, but it felt like her stomach had hollowed itself out, desperately gnawing at itself to find some form of food. The sip from Niall’s mug did little to satiate her, honestly, she thinks it only made her hungrier than she had been. 
“You feel like you’re starving, don’t you?” Harry inquired like he could read it on her face, in her posture, the way her muscles were pole rigid and wrung tight. She nodded, feeling pitiful, and seconds away from doing something embarrassing like whining or begging him to let her eat, “What we’re learning today, is how to stop even when you feel desperate like this. I’ll set a timer for three minutes, and then you have to quit feeding. It’ll be hard, but it’s best to learn early, okay?” 
“Will –” she cleared her throat, shifting in her spot and the floorboards creaked slightly, “Can I still eat afterward? Will you – can I –” 
“I’m not going to let you starve,” he cut her off, clicking his tongue, using one hand to get the timer ready while his other was still held out toward her, “We are just going to practice starting and stopping, okay? Now come on, you can eat – I’ll pretend you greeted me and complimented me first.” 
Y/N tentatively grabs his arm, simultaneously scoots herself closer, and pulls him toward her. Despite how animalistic it makes her feel, she pushes past the embarrassment that swells through her when she shoves her nose against his wrist. She breathes in the steady thump and drum of the blood swimming through his veins, her mind a constant whirring, her skin sizzles, and her gums are sore with anticipation. 
She bites into him, a moan slithers from her throat and she’d have half the mind to feel embarrassed if she wasn’t so thirsty. Harry is a little quieter today, not rattling on as he had before, but he does coo a little at her. His other hand finds her head and he pets her like she’s a puppy; murmuring soft encouragement. It goes down easy, as it always does, and Y/N still wonders if she should be concerned that there is no mental block between her and eating from someone but that inquiry fizzles away just as fast. 
The alarm must have rung but Y/N hadn’t heard it. She only heard Harry telling her to stop, but even that sounded muffled like she’s got her head in a tank, “I know it’s hard,” she hears distantly, “But if I were a human you could risk killing me. You don’t want to do that, do you?” 
She doesn’t – she really, really doesn’t, but it’s so hard to stop drinking. With her eyes scrunched tight, she has to sneak her own finger between her mouth and his arm. It’s enough to at least break the seal she’d created, suctioned to his arm, and with that, she can at least pop off. She doesn’t pull away, but she does breathe wet and raggedly, her fingers dug into his forearm in a way that would hurt if he wasn’t what he was. He’s still petting the top of her head, cooing at her, praising her – she hates how much the praise makes her bristle, bringing her down from the blood-driven high she’d been smothered in. 
“That was good for the first attempt,” he said gently, “This is an important skill, I teach all the people I mentor early on because it’s better learned early on – like teaching someone a second language when they’re still learning their first. Human feeders are kind to give you a part of them, and to allow you to do something that is scary for them. Each time they let you feed they’re putting their life on the line,” his hand leaves her head, sliding down to her nape where his thumb strokes carefully, “Sometimes they need to stop in the middle, whether it be because they feel lightheaded, they need to use the bathroom, or they just want to stop – it is your responsibility to stop yourself. You don’t want to be the monster everyone thinks we are, right?” 
Y/N swallows thickly, “Mhm,” is the only reply she’s able to give, and Harry chuckles warmly. 
“Okay, three more minutes then we’ll stop again. If you do as well then the next time I’ll let you eat until you’re full.” 
She nods, her lips fix back around the tiny holes she created and she starts to drink again. Any embarrassing noises that she might want to make don’t manage to slither from her throat this time, but she feels something deep and low in her gut, curling. It’s something she hasn’t felt since she’s changed – red hot and twinkling, burning. Was it arousal? She wasn’t sure, honestly, she just knows she feels so fucking good right now she can’t be bothered to decipher how she was feeling, or why. 
The alarm rings again, echoing in her ears and Y/N does a little better this time. Harry still has to coax her off of him, but she doesn’t have to tear herself from him as forcefully as before. Within thirty seconds of the alarm ringing, she pulls her mouth away from his skin, hovering, panting, and now she realizes that she’s undeniably wet, which is. . .new. She didn’t even know her body could still do that. 
“Good job,” Harry’s voice sounds strained, “It’ll get easier, as time goes on.” 
Y/N’s breathless as she replies, “Isn’t that what you guys always say? With everything?” 
Harry chuckled, and once again he used his free hand to pet her head like she was a greedy, starving, hungry little animal that he was helping from the kindness of his heart, “Yeah, it sure is,” he scritches her head with his nails, and alright, does he really think she’s an animal, “Go ahead, you can finish until you’re full.” 
She doesn’t have to be told twice; she ignores the flames sizzling low in her belly in favor of drinking him down, her eyes fluttering closed, her brain full of cotton and wool. Harry doesn’t stop her again, he just lets her eat, and eventually, she feels full, the growl in her belly satiated, and she feels like she could fall asleep like this. Despite his cold body, Harry feels so warm beside her but she’s sure that’s just the warmth of the blood in her belly. 
Y/N doesn’t think about it when her forehead rests against his bicep. Harry doesn’t seem all too concerned about it either, humming a sound in between fond and teasingly exasperated, “Ah, you’re much better like this, aren’t you?” He murmured, “Niall is too – all you baby vampires are so much better behaved when you’ve eaten. All docile and sweet.” Her mouth opens to tell him to shut up but a content sigh leaves her lips instead. 
She’s too sleepy to fight him, too sleepy to move from his arm, too sleepy to ask him why feeding from him made her so wet. 
Her mind slips away and she falls asleep. 
                                                            .                         .                       .
The days grow shorter and colder, and Y/N develops an oral fixation that is increasingly hard to kick. 
It feels like, with all of this vampire shit, she takes two steps forward and one step back. She thought practicing biting would relieve the tension in her gums – that it would settle her increasing, almost obligatory need to sink her teeth into something. For a second it did, after feeding from Harry, using them to their intended purpose, that desire had settled easily. She goes to sleep without worrying Christopher would wake her up and find the corner of her pillow in her mouth. 
Then suddenly, Y/N senses that familiar itch between her teeth and her hand finds its way between them, gnawing mindlessly at the pads of her fingers. She’s chewing on the collar of her shirt, the straw of a small cup of juice she’s drinking (she doesn’t need it, and it tastes less sweet than it used to on her tongue, but it was important to practice enjoying it for social situations – at least, that’s what Christopher said, so he had her reintegrate some other liquids back in her diet), the corner of unsuspecting pillows. 
She’s all chewy and drooly and when she realizes that she’s doing it, she wants to crawl out of her skin. Especially when she does it in front of the others, who apparently have a weekly movie night, so she’s been trying to make an effort to attend. Niall always came with her and sat protectively in front of her or at her side, and Y/N typically sat near Naomi and Vivianna. That night in particular, she had the throw pillow in her lap, arms locked around the center, and the corner of it tucked in between her teeth without even thinking about it. 
Maybe nobody would have noticed too, if not for a small little laugh – not a derisive one; the only thing she could compare it to is watching a child do something you used to do when you were little. Fond, nostalgic – “Ah, I remember when I was like that,” Theodore’s words don’t suggest he’s speaking about anything other than the movie, but somehow Y/N knew he was talking about her before he could even continue, body stiffened and the mindless chewing ceasing, “The first couple of months are so – ugh, I just wanted something between my teeth so badly. I’d never felt more sorry for teething babies and puppies in my life.” 
Y/N’s sure that he wasn’t trying to tease her. The tone of his voice suggested he was giving her an opportunity to share this with them, her experience so far because that’s what this was. Living with them was supposed to eradicate feelings like this; they’d all been through it, so why should she be embarrassed? A built-in support system of people who knew exactly what she was going through should make a situation like this far less humiliating. 
Yet Y/N is still mortified, dropping the corner of the pillow from her mouth and grimacing, “Sorry,” she replied sheepishly, and before Theodore could say anything else – defend his stance, tell her not to apologize, explain why he mentioned it knowing that everyone would turn from the telly to look at her – Niall speaks up. 
“If you don’t stop looking at her, I’ll make seeing difficult for you.” 
Everyone is quick to turn their attention back to the movie, Y/N’s gaze falls on Niall who seems unbothered and unfazed, watching the movie as if nothing happened. She’s thankful, and slightly scared of him, but mostly thankful. 
Harry only laughs at her when she brings it up to him; he teases her, threatens to bring her dog toys or teething rings and a leash, and makes Y/N regret bringing it up to him at all. 
The wind is cold – she feels it on her skin, but the chill doesn’t run bone deep as it used to. It rustles through the remaining leaves still clinging to the branches, cutting around thick trunks, creating a hum that fills the space around them when they stand outside. Everything is much louder now, it can be overstimulating, just as the scents are, but Harry works with her almost daily to differentiate all the information her brain is receiving at once. How to center her attention on the sounds of one particular thing. Ignoring the whine of the wind to hear a squirrel snap a twig 20 meters away. 
“It’ll make transitioning back into the human world easier,” he’d explained to her, “Focusing on one human talking to you proves to be increasingly difficult when you can hear everyone else’s conversation in the cafe, plus the dog barking in an apartment building down the road. Normally mentors wait to introduce shit like this later on, while you’re still curbing your appetite, but I reckon it’s better to prey on that hunger as a means to learn quicker. That’s why – albeit a pain – Niall is so well practiced in this. Honestly, if he were filled with less unbridled rage he would probably be able to go out and about as he pleased – don’t tell him that though.” 
Y/N peered up at the sky above them, wondering if it’d always been so cloudy where they lived during winter. They hang full and heavy with rain, unshed, or maybe ice; the weather certainly calls for a snowstorm soon, and she’s merely waiting for it. She wondered if it would hurt the same when it landed on her skin, or if the epidermis had toughened enough yet. Her skin felt less raw than it did a month ago, at the very least, like her nerve endings had finally recovered themselves and her cells had settled into place, familiar with the new blood that circulates through her vessels. 
“Who else mentors, other than you?” She inquired as they waited for Niall to come outside. Harry told him the time to be here, and Niall liked to not listen, but he also respected Y/N’s time just as much as he disrespected Harry’s. So he makes sure to be late, but not late enough that Y/N can’t get back to what she’s doing (like sleeping, and eating, and wondering why drinking from Harry makes her feel like she needs something inside of her. . .but that’s neither here nor there). 
Harry is wearing short sleeves today, not even pretending to feel the icy winds and Y/N has come to learn it means he hasn’t been out of the house yet. He sticks around more these days than he did at the start, like he wants to be readily available or he just has nothing else to do when the weather is like this. From what she has gathered, she knows that Harry likes to entertain himself by being out with humans, at least that’s what Christopher told her one day in the kitchen. Human activity slows in the cold, there’s much less to do and there’s much less people out until closer to Christmas. So Harry’s resigned himself to spending his days nearby, helping her adjust to this life – probably what he should have been doing in the first place. 
“Why? Are you thinking about getting a different one?” 
“Would love to know my options if that’s ever the case.” 
He narrowed his eyes on her, but answered anyway, “Most of them aren’t in house like I am, so you wouldn’t know them even if I did give you their names. Mitch sometimes takes someone under his wing, but he’s always so busy he rarely has time to give the attention a newbie needs.” 
Y/N hums, “Were any of the others mentored by you?” 
“Apart from Niall?” Harry raised up two fingers, “Naomi and Matthew. Matthew started out with someone different but that fell through, so I took over.” 
“Who was someone different?” 
“You wouldn’t know if I told you.” 
A huff leaves her mouth, breath creating a plume of smoke around her face. She thinks it may snow soon, and she doesn’t know if she’s happy or sad about that; early snow means an early winter, and usually, she’s pretty stressed about it. Driving to work in bad weather, fighting past the morning chill to pump gas, walking in and out of stores, and suffering thirty seconds of a brutal draft. Now that she was a vampire, those things probably wouldn’t matter, would they? 
“Christopher told me you’ve been having nightmares,” Harry mentioned and Y/N fit a knuckle between her teeth, “Did you want to talk about them?” 
She shrugged, “I – don’t really know what they’re about, is the thing. I think it has something to do with the night I changed but everything is unclear. . .foggy.” 
Harry regards her with eyes that slice through her physical form like he’s digging into her brain for answers. There was a twist in her stomach from how hard he was staring, and she wondered how much of it was innate anxiety from being in the sight of a predator, and how much was just. . .that weird thing that’s been happening. Y/N has fed from Harry a total of three times, the third being just the other day, where instead of making her practice starting and stopping he just let her have at it for eight minutes. Four times, if she counts when they first met, and the last two times she’s been left horny and confused. So now she’s been stuck wondering if she just thought Harry was attractive or if it was something deeper than that – she isn’t sure, and bringing it up to Harry is out of the question unless she wants to be ruthlessly teased. Who could she ask though? Was it in one of the books he’d gotten her? 
“Adam found you in an alleyway,” Harry explained, and Y/N’s brows raised, “From what I’ve seen of your closet, your style isn’t to my taste, but even I could say that you were in something too nice to just be strolling the park alone.” 
She nodded, “Yeah I feel like – I’m pretty sure I’d been on a date.” Y/N explained, “Where was the alleyway?” 
“In the city,” he explained to her, “Not the dangerous part; just out of reach where it wouldn’t make sense for it to be some random, petty act of violence. Crime can happen anywhere, I suppose. There’s a lot of popular dinner spots in that area though, the whole strip is widely known for its date night possibilities.” Harry’s gaze is undeviating, she feels more exposed under it right now than if he’d walked in on her naked, she’s sure of it, “A date, hm? Trying to get out there after this mystery boy you refuse to speak about.”
Y/N sets her face in a frown, “Why’d you never tell me he found me in an alley?” 
“You never asked,” Harry replied, “It never seemed very important. Doesn’t change anything.” 
Y/N could get mad at him, but he’s right. What would it change if she knew who did it? What was she going to do, hunt him down? Kill him? What good would that do for her but make her an actual monster? Even if she killed the monster that changed her? 
Besides, she isn’t even angry at him. In her dreams, he always seemed so remorseful, so scared – Y/N knows how hard it was to curb her appetite, she could only imagine being near a human. Someone so warm, full of blood, the smell enticing – could she blame him? She wasn’t so sure, now. 
“Won’t you tell me about this mystery man? I’m so curious,” Harry pouted his lip, “You always change the subject when I bring him up.” 
“It’s almost like I’m dropping a hint.” 
Harry brought it up once at least every four days, and once every four days Y/N ignored him. The whole mess of it is something she wants to forget; thinking about it only makes her sad. Leaves her insides feeling cold and the bitter taste of unresolved feelings on her tongue. She’d moved away for a reason – she wanted to pretend that it never happened. And becoming a vampire did certainly help erase memories like that, but if a certain curly-haired prick didn’t stop bringing them up, then she had no chance of blowing it off as a silly human experience. 
The lasers he’d been boring into her are replaced with something soft, gentle. It’s the same look he gets when she’s drinking from him, and Y/N much prefers it to how he’d been stripping away layers of flesh with his gaze prior. He opens his mouth, soft and pink, but before he can speak Niall appears quick as ever, quiet as a field mouse, “You’re a nosy fuck aren’t you?” Y/N has always wondered what Niall’s range of hearing was – he always seems to know exactly the conversation being had before he’s entered a room. It’s making Y/N wonder how fair today’s practice is going to be. 
“You give me plenty of time to be nosy when you’re late to every single thing I schedule with you,” Harry rolled his eyes, his tone more than exasperated, “What could you possibly be doing? You can’t even leave the house yet, so I know you aren’t busy.” 
“Jerking off to the thought of you breaking an ankle.” 
Harry sighed, knuckled his eyes, and stood up, “Alright,” he pointed out into the woods, “Friendly competition always makes things a bit fun, doesn’t it? I’m going to go six kilometers out and make different sounds and say different things, whoever gets the most right wins.” 
That sounded easy enough, but as soon as the timer went off (Harry said it would only take him two minutes to get that far, and then he’d start repeating the same 4 things), Y/N tried to focus on what he was saying – she was absolutely hopeless. The wind is too loud, the leaves, the grass, the telly playing in the house, the sound of Theodore complaining about Matthew using his sweater and getting a stain on it. She tries – really hard, she tries, but she hears a squirrel she thinks, scurrying up a tree, and then she thinks she hears him. 
“Cat.” 
And then it’s gone again, she can’t hear him. Was he fucking whispering? Surely he hadn’t said cat. 
Harry returned before Y/N could ask Niall what he’d heard, and Niall was, surprisingly, very willing to follow the rules of the game which was frustrating. “What did you hear Y/N?” 
“I only heard “cat”,” she replied, “Isn’t it a little unfair, to have me paired up against someone so far in advance.” 
“What fun would it be pairing you with someone new? That wouldn’t give you any drive to succeed.” Harry looked at Niall, “What’d you hear?” 
“Leaf, Cat, you blew a raspberry with your mouth, then asked Y/N to share her secrets – you annoying fuck.” Y/N pouted, and Niall turned to look at her, “Sorry, Babe,” Y/N was surprised by the pet name – Niall usually doesn’t do those, but he seems to be in a semi-good mood, all things considered. A better mood than she’d ever seen him in at least, “Normally I would throw the game and let you win, but when the reward is digging my teeth into this guy and stealing from him, I can’t refuse.” 
Harry frowned, “I know this was my idea, but I’m regretting it a little when he says it like that,” he held out his arm, “Don’t be too pouty, hm? This will make you work extra hard next time.” 
Y/N is able to look past the jeering taunt laced between his words and heavy in his tone because an idea sparks in her head. It would be harder for Niall to hide it if he was aroused by drinking from Harry, wouldn’t it? There’d be something pretty obvious in his jeans; not that Y/N wanted to look at her new vampire friend’s stiffy for fun. It would just be helpful to know if Y/N was alone in this weird sense of arousal it comes from drinking from Harry, or if it was a natural part of it. Then, if there was an elephant in the room (because no way would Harry let Niall getting hard go undiscussed), Y/N could broach the subject. Gently prod if it was a common occurrence for vampires to be turned on and if humans were the same. 
She tries not to be too voyeuristic about it, but it’s kind of hard not to when she’s watching so closely. Y/N hopes Harry just accredits her behavior to wanting the blood for herself. And to be honest, even without her own problem she’s seeking the answer for, Y/N thinks she’d be interested in it still. It was her first time watching someone else feed – it was different to see what it looked like from an outside perspective. 
Like, Y/N finds that Harry is nowhere near as tender with Niall as he is with her. He holds his wrist out for him and bleats and complains the whole time Niall drinks, instead of the soft-spoken words he usually gives her. There was no gentle head-petting or cooing, and Niall certainly wasn’t pressing himself any closer to Harry than necessary, as she did. Maybe this was just what it was like when someone practiced feeds; Y/N was still new to it, so it would make sense that she was still a little clunky and Harry was kinder to her. Also, she’s watching Harry and Niall of all people, so sure the moment won’t be too soft. 
But that’s not what concerns her. That’s nice to know, sure, that it’s different how each person feeds and how Niall – for all he said about sinking his teeth into Harry and hurting him – is very gentle about the entire thing. He bites a bit too hard, sure, but he drinks carefully, and only uses one hand to hold Harry’s wrist to his mouth. Y/N understood now why Harry thinks Niall could probably go out and be among humans, if not for his rage. The whole situation is very calm, and the least bit animalistic. Still, if it was something in Harry’s blood or in the process in general of feeding from another body, that would happen to everyone, no? 
YN tries not to stare at his crotch so openly, especially when she spots Harry watching her, but from what she can tell – Niall doesn’t seem the least bit affected. The most she gets of a reaction from him eating is the slight flush to his cheeks, the once pale skin a little pink when he pulls away from Harry’s arm. His lips are slick with spit and tinged red, and there’s a healthier glean to him but there’s nothing. No shift in scent, no obvious swell in his bottoms, not even the most minor indication that Niall might have gotten aroused from it. 
Hm. What the hell is wrong with her then? 
Harry gives her a few pointers for next time and Niall tries to help as well (though his help consists of finding the drive to listen and differentiate through anger) before they break away. Once Y/N’s certain she’s alone, she thumbs through three of the books, her eyes scanning across the Table of Contents, then scanning across the pages but she comes up short. Even in the book with an extensive guide to feeding, there’s nothing hidden in the subtext, and no secret pages adhered together that would have made her miss it before. 
She had just shoved the book back onto her bedside table when there was a knock on her door. She could smell that it was Harry and the knob turned slowly as he already decided he would be coming in. Y/N was confused to see him – usually after their practices, she won’t see him for at least a couple of hours, if not just the next day entirely. They still did these teaching sessions early in the morning, when the sun would just be glittering from beneath the tree line had the clouds not covered it (he told her eventually they would start doing them at night, but they would hold off until she was learning how to better fine-tune her eyesight), so she figured he was going to sleep. Or doing whatever he did while everyone else was asleep. 
There he was, however, standing in her room after closing the door with a gentle click, “I normally don’t do this,” he began, shaking off his jacket, and walking toward the bed, “Because the whole point is to learn that you need to try hard and you’ll be rewarded for your efforts. However, you were being a very good sport about not winning and not getting to have some, and I feel like that should be rewarded as well.” 
Y/N’s eyes were wide as he lowered to sit, making himself comfortable on the mattress. He leans up against all the pillows and holds out the opposite arm that Niall had bitten earlier, “But, won’t you be hungry?” Y/N inquired, though she had already begun to salivate. She’s able to last longer without eating now that she’s been feeding from Harry, though she still gets mugs in between feeds. Though she could last longer, it just meant when she was hungry – she was hungry. She probably could have lasted a day or two more before it became a problem, but with it being offered to her like this – well, Y/N wouldn’t say no. 
“I went out and ate a little more to replace what he took,” Harry explained, “They’re going to start calling me greedy, even knowing I need to feed you too. I have to feed off two to get enough for me and you.” He raises his wrists, and leaves it just under her nose, “Go on, have a bite, I promise this isn’t a trick. It’s a genuine reward.” 
Y/N breathed out in a small, wet gust over his wrist, swallowing thickly. There was a knowing twirl in her lower belly, she was starting to wonder if her body had just been Pavlov'd into this response at this point. If it was something to do with feeding from Harry, or if Y/N’s own unbidden desires had started this. Harry was attractive, she’d always known that, and putting her mouth on someone attractive had always worked her up a little. She loved kissing, nipping, licking, and biting – biting. . .maybe that’s why she was always chewing on everything. 
“Plus, watching you chew on your knuckles like you’re teething is a little pitiful. The feeling will go away the more you use them.” Y/N couldn’t even care about his teasing when she slid her teeth into the skin, pulling them out and a gush of blood poured into her mouth. God, it’s so good, she doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to it. How good it tastes, how she has to stop her eyes from rolling to the back of her head, how her body goes haywire from happiness and desire while one of her basic needs is fulfilled. She knows she’ll feel full and content in a way she isn’t with the blood baggies Christopher feeds to her, no matter how many he gives her in a day, it will never compare to the satiated feeling of eating from Harry. 
Harry laughs a little, and as always, his hand comes to rest on her head, then slips down to the nape of her neck where he squeezes gently, “You’d think I starve you, from how you react every time,” he murmured, threading his fingers through the hair they rest on, rubbing at her scalp, “Fill up all you want, baby, until you want to stop.” 
Baby? Baby – baby. Something glittery and warm twists down her spine at the pet name, and a full-body shiver traces through her. Was he being mean? Calling her a baby to tease her, be cruel, and make her feel silly for being so messy in how she gulps him down? Or was he being sweet? Tender in the way he is when he feeds her, soft and loving, like he’s just happy to provide for her. Y/N wondered if she looked up would she see the same tender smile Christopher gave her when he handed her a mug of blood and watched her drink it? What’s up with vampires and feeding others that made them seem so pleased? God, she needs a whole book on just the feeding! That surely exists, right? 
Y/N isn’t sure how long she drinks, but she does drink until she’s full. She stops herself this time, with a little more ease than she had before only because her belly was content with the amount inside of it. Still, Harry praises her for not having to be pried off his arm, and the hand at the nape of her neck slides down to the center of her back. Y/N feels like all she’d have to do is press her heel to her slit and rock against it twice before cumming, but she ignored that. Her eyes blink open, sticky and slow, “Thank you,” she breathed out, and Harry laughed, and he looks. . .really nice right now. Not just in appearance, but in demeanor – the way a mentor should always appear, she’d say. Right now Y/N feels like she could ask him anything – like she could bring this up and him not be weird or cruel about it, “Can I ask you something?” 
“Hm?” He leaned his head back against the headboard, eyes on her, and the question ‘why do I get so wet when I’m feeding from you’ fizzle away on her tongue. 
“I want to go to my flat,” she said instead, “To pick up some things. I need my computer so I can start getting some work done again. And one of my soft blankets.” 
Harry hums again like he’s considering it, “Feels a little early to take you out in public. Maybe with a leash?” 
Her brows drop to a scowl, “Nevermind, I’ll –” 
“Oh, shh, I’m just kidding,” Harry seems to be in a really good mood, actually, and Y/N’s feeling a little suspicious. He looked all hazy and blissed out like he was the one who’d just eaten, but before Y/N could question him on it, he nodded, “Sure, I’ll take you to your flat. There will be some rules though, so you don’t fuck up and eat one of your neighbors.” 
That seems fair enough. 
                                                                   .                    .                   .
Going to Y/N’s flat at night is imperative. 
Harry explained to her that when he’d gone the first time, it’d been during the day, and there were so many people walking around that had he been a weaker vampire, it would’ve been a feeding ground. He inquired how she was ever able to get anything done with the number of doors opening and closing, people wandering around, and how loud some of her neighbors were. Honestly, Y/N doesn’t even remember how it was before she changed – she wondered if it was only loud because Harry’s senses were exemplary or if it really was just loud. 
Y/N hadn’t looked at many flats before she’d chosen this one; it was the only building that wasn’t requiring over a thousand in rent each month and didn’t look like three broken windows from being condemned so she signed her year lease relatively easily. She really just wanted a place to sleep, she could decorate the inside to be as cozy as she needed, the outside appearance nor her neighbors really mattered to her. It was suitable for her first flat, in a new area, with a new job – everything being new was good for her. She needed a new start, something refreshing. 
The drive felt long, but that’s probably because she hadn’t been in a car for so long. She’d forgotten how it felt, for her body to be still but for the world moving around her, and how the blur of the trees could make her dizzy if she stared at it too long. It was weird, but familiar, and very human – for some reason, riding in a car felt very human. She liked that it hadn’t changed too much, only that the world was brighter around her in a way that it’d never been before, even though it was a winter night. She was more than okay with it. 
Once Harry pulled up to the parking lot, a heavy sigh on his lips, “It’s just depressing here,” he murmured, “Surely you won’t come back once you’re able to handle being around humans alone, right?” 
“I signed a lease.” 
“You’re a vampire now,” he reminded her, “If you want to break it you can either eat the landlord or bewitch them – you know, we’re a very persuasive people, right?” 
She ignored him as he keyed the car off, and took her own deep breath before stepping out of the car. Harry is at her side in the blink of an eye, his arm looping around hers. When she startled and tried to pull away, he only tightened her hold, “I think you’re forgetting you haven’t been around full humans in over a month,” his voice is low, just above a whisper, and he doesn’t really need to speak into her ear for her to hear him but he does anyway – his breath warm over the side of her face, “I’ll hold onto you just in case.” 
Y/N swallowed thickly, nodding – she could already smell everyone inside, and it was a little overwhelming, but she’d just eaten. Her belly was still full from him, and he’d had Christopher make her a mug for extra protection, so she was stuffed, well and truly. So she doesn’t feel hungry, but it’s the same sensation she might have gotten as a human. When she’s full, but smells something sweet, the way it still makes her mouth water and she contemplates stuffing herself with just one more bite. 
But Harry’s grip on her is firm, and she thinks if she tried anything at all he could muscle her back to his side. 
“Breathe through your mouth,” he guided as they started toward the door, “It’s better that way; easier. One day the need to breathe will be eradicated entirely but until then, this will be good for you.” 
When he isn’t being the worst, Harry does have good advice. It’s in moments like these where he’s calm and patient with her that Y/N understands why Mitch keeps making him a mentor. She breathes through her mouth, tastes nothing but the cold air on her tongue and the tension in her muscles slowly eases. Harry opened the door for them, they slid inside — the front desk is always uninhabited so Y/N didn’t have to worry about being accosted by a well-meaning staff member. They take the elevator up to the fourth floor, it’s rickety and makes a lot of noise. The whole way up, Harry’s looking at her with something akin to horror, “You work with computers do you not? Surely, you could afford a safer environment.”
“What do you do for a living?” Y/N asks because it’s much easier to try and focus on whatever Harry’s saying rather than every single telly and conversation happening on the floor, behind each door, and the hum of the fluorescent lights above them. 
Harry holds her closer – she wonders what he heard for him to do that – and he more leads her than she leads him to her door, “I work with a lot of fashion designers,” he replied, “I’ll model sometimes.” 
“That makes sense. You’re always dressed really nice.” 
“I’ll take you shopping soon then,” he promised, “And help you find something worth wearing–” 
“Y/N?” 
She freezes; Harry stops too, but he’s less abrupt, more practiced like he had known she was behind them in the first place. Maybe Y/N would have known too if she could focus on anything other than Harry’s voice, everything else buzzing and humming in the background. It’s hard – this is harder than she thought it would be. She understood why it was important that she be shut off from all other life for the first few months. If this is how she felt for a month, she couldn’t even imagine how she would have felt when she first changed. 
Y/N turned to the voice, seeing her neighbor. She was another younger woman, around Y/N’s age – her name was Maisie and she told Y/N when she first moved in that sometimes she had loud parties and she was sorry in advance. Y/N didn’t know they were past the stage of friendly greetings even yet, for her to say her name like she did, face dribbled with concern, “I haven’t heard you on the other side of the wall in a while, and usually we’ve bumped into each other in the elevator a couple of times a week. I was starting to get worried. Was like, a week away from doing a wellness check.” 
She tries to smile – she thinks she probably looks crazy because it isn’t reaching her eyes, but she’s putting on the best show she could, “Oh, yes, I – I’m okay,” she nodded, “I just haven’t been home a lot. I’ve been staying with. . .” 
Maisie’s gaze flickers to Harry, and Y/N is struggling not to focus on the sound of her heart pumping and the way her pulse visibly drums in her throat. Y/N could dig her teeth there – could drink, and drink, and drink –
Harry’s grip on her tightens once more, “I’m sorry I’ve stolen your neighbor from you,” his voice is dripping with charm, alluring in only a way he could be, in his knee-long petticoat, and his bright pretty eyes, “I’m just always convincing her to spend the night at mine.” His arm looped around hers, loosened only so that he could seek out her hand. Their fingers slot together and he squeezes, and Y/N looks at how his palm swallows hers up, her heart thudding hard into her sternum, rattling her rib cage with each beat. 
Maisie’s eyebrows raise, “Oh? I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.” 
Because I don’t – Y/N bites her tongue, as Harry turns to look at her with a gentle scoff, “Ahh, you’re too reserved about our relationship, Baby! I’m going to start thinking you don’t want to be with me at all.” 
“I’m sorry,” she tried to play the part convincingly, “I guess it just never came up.” 
“I find ways to input you in every conversation I have. Seriously, my coworkers and neighbors alike are probably tired of me.” Harry is oozing charisma, a spell cast over Maisie in the way she smiles like she’s viewing a relationship she’d want to be a part of. Y/N’s seen the kind of men Maisie brings home in passing, and she could promise none of them were telling her coworkers and neighbors about her, even if this was an elaborate lie to hide the fact Y/N had recently been changed into a vampire. One that was struggling to look at Maisie’s face instead of her throat, or her wrist, the tender insides of her bicep where her brachial artery lies. 
If Harry were a human man, every single word he’d be saying would seem more like a glaringly obvious red flag. A boyfriend that she’s never mentioned, showing up with her at her flat that she hadn’t been at in a month, and Y/N has the demeanor of a kidnapped person. Anyone could see that this was just the making of a horrendous thriller, where everyone is yelling at the neighbor character for not realizing something is wrong. 
Harry’s a vampire though. Glamorous and mesmerizing; captivating in a way that you would believe every word he said, just because he said it. If Y/N was trying to get away from Harry because he kidnapped her, then she’d be cussing Maisie out in her head about now. Thankfully, Y/N is doing the opposite of trying to get away from Harry – actually, she’s trying to melt herself into Harry’s side so that she doesn’t lunge for Maisie and tear into her. 
“Ah, well good for you. I had a party the other week that would’ve surely made you call a noise complaint on me,” she laughed, good-naturedly (Maisie is nice enough but she really is kind of a shitty neighbor), “I’ll see you later.” 
Once they make it behind her door, Y/N takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and thuds her head against the door. Harry flips the light on, “All things considered, that could’ve gone way worse.” He murmured, “Your neighbor sucks though, you were definitely giving off kidnapped victim vibes.” 
It’s weird to be back in her flat after so long not being inside of it. Things seem to be exactly as she left it, messy, a bit cluttered – but it smells like home. She smells herself over everything, her heart full, overwhelmed, and she thinks she’s stuck between wanting to cry and wanting to press her face into her bed and smile. The last time she was in her living room, Y/N hadn’t known her life was going to take such a drastic turn. That it would completely change, shift into something she’d been certain only happened in stories and movies. 
The last time she was here she was human, living, and normal. Her life. . .maybe it wasn’t thrilling, or dazzling, but it was hers. 
“C’mon,” Harry’s voice is attentive like he understood what she was going through, even if he himself hadn’t in hundreds of years, “What all do you want to bring? I’ll help you.” 
Y/N picks some more blankets and pillows from her room and crams some more clothes in her spare duffle. She took Niall’s advice and took some of her lights, two of her posters, and a couple of pictures of her friends and family back home. Harry is diligent in helping her and doesn’t rush her when she stops and stares off, feeling fuzzy, a sense of longing for her old life swallowing her whole. By the time they leave, Y/N has Harry loaded up with things to bring to the car. He complains a little, in the Harry way that he does, but not to actually make her feel bad – just to whine. 
They take the stairs down because the exit leads right outside (they could leave that way but couldn’t enter that way unless they wanted alarms to start ringing), fill the car up and Y/N climbs into the front seat. Harry followed closely behind her, and Y/N was slightly shocked to feel his hand on her thigh, warm and comforting, he squeezed, “I know it’s a lot,” he sympathized, “But you did very well. This whole experience couldn’t have gone better, honestly.” 
“Thank you,” she murmured, and then his hand is off of her thigh, and onto her face – which is just as surprising to her as it is to feel him swipe a tear away from her cheek, “Oh, shit, sorry I didn’t –” 
“It’s okay to cry,” he told her, “It’s alright to feel things about changing. Nobody expects you to be pleased with this change, or even overjoyed – we all just want you to be able to accept it, and to live comfortably, and at least semi-happily. Even if this isn’t necessarily ideal.” Y/N swallows, “I cried so much when I first changed, even Mitch was over me.” 
“You’ve known Mitch since you were changed?” Y/N pressed. Harry shifts the car into reverse, pulling out of the spot he’d fit them in near the door. He drives with the ease of someone who’s been doing it since cars were invented. 
Harry chuckled, “Yeah, of course I have,” he answered, eyes twinkling where the street lamp slid through the laminated glass windows, “Mitch was the one who found me, all cold and bloodied just outside the forest.” 
Harry had never bothered explaining how he was changed to her, but he does so now. He said he grew up in a small village away from the big city (what was now Manchester) and ran away from home when he was about 18, worried he’d be drafted for war. He managed to evade all forms of law enforcement and officials, and forge exemption papers when he was far enough from home that nobody would recognize him. He was no man-made to fight a senseless war, especially one he knew he’d be fighting on the wrong side of. 
It was a lonely life. Harry moved from place to place, rather the nomad, until he finally settled in a quiet village off the coastline of Scotland. There, at 22, he met someone demure and kind named Eilidh who had stolen his heart in the blink of an eye. “She was beautiful,” he reminisced, plucking at his bottom lip, “Nobody ever paid much attention to me, ‘cos I was quiet and scrawny and frail, just as pale as I am now. Back then, men who looked like they were ailing were not sought after how they are now – it looked like I couldn’t provide for myself, let alone a family, so nobody wanted anything to do with me. But she did, pretty as she was, and I didn’t question it. Just thought that a god, or the universe had finally taken pity on me.” 
He didn’t question a thing. Not when this stupendously beautiful woman called to him from across the market when he was bartering for a lower price on grain. Nor when she told him to meet her that night, just outside the mouth of the forest alone. And he didn’t bother to worry when she emphasized alone, because he was young, and a virgin, and was more than willing to get his dick wet outside by some pretty stranger (his words, not Y/N’s). 
Harry said he remembered leaving his dilapidated little shack, the moon casting a cool white glow over the sleeping village. He remembered meeting her at the mouth of the forest, her pulling him closer to her body, deeper behind the trees, smiling with bright, white, sharp teeth.  
“I woke up in Mitch’s care, cried and blubbered for about a month about how my life was unfair, ran away from him, and tore through cities and villages because I was hungry and I was convinced he was trying to starve me.” He made a discontented sound, “God, I was annoying. Honestly, I have no clue why he even bothered to find me again, I was such an entitled little snot.” 
“So that’s why you listen to him?” Y/N filled in the gaps, a distinct memory of Mitch accrediting Harry doing as he says because of 600 years on this Earth, “Because he saved you?” 
“That sounds too cheesy,” he complained, “I listen to him ‘cos he’s annoying and acts like a disrespected grandfather when I don’t.” Y/N can tell though, that beneath Harry’s petulant protests was someone who cared deeply for what Mitch thought and said. It was cute to her, how he denied it. 
There were still thirty minutes of the drive left when Y/N decided that if they were going to start sharing stories with one another, that she’d share a sliver of one. She wouldn’t go into it because she didn’t want to go into it, but she’d always believed a story for a story was something everyone should abide by. If someone’s going to open up to her about their life, and she feels safe enough to do the same, then why wouldn’t she reciprocate, at least to some degree? 
“The guy in my photos – the one you’re always asking about,” Y/N confided, and Harry made no secret of his interest, cranking the radio all the way down, “He was my roommate, and my best friend, and my fuck buddy for a while.” She shrugged her shoulders, “Then he got a girlfriend, and I was attached already and. . .you know how that goes.” 
There’s more to it than that. She knows it, Harry knows it, but he lets it go, just pleased to have a little bit of the mystery unraveled. 
“Chances are you were too good for him anyway,” he opined, “Consider yourself lucky.” 
                                                          .                           .                         .
Most things Y/N feels nowadays, she attributed to the many changes her body experienced turning into a vampire. A headache? A muscle spasm? A discomfort in her left hip? She thinks she could explain it away as a symptom of vampirism with her eyes closed and someone screaming into her ear. Wasn’t everything she experienced a symptom? Any time she brought something up to Harry, Christopher, Naomi, or Niall, it was always the same response – you’ll get used to it, it’s easier over time, yeah that happened to be when I first changed. Why keep asking if she knew what the response would be? 
So she ignored it when her boobs were sore and tender, because why wouldn’t they be? Surely her breast tissue just found out she was a vampire as well and was settling into itself once again. They hurt when she walks up the stairs when she lays on them weirdly, and if someone accidentally brushes past them. They're sensitive and swollen, but easy to ignore. She feels like she could eat a small army of men, draining them of their blood until they were empty husks, but that’s just standard for new vampires, isn’t it? And she hadn’t fed from Harry’s wrist in a couple of weeks, so of course she would be feeling a little more hungry than usual. She’d been a little more emotional lately too, but she’s been relatively emotional ever since she visited her flat, and that was just a longing for the normalcy of human life, but that would eventually go. 
The others have been. . .different, lately. They’re always pretty friendly, but everyone's a little overly friendly and has been for the past week and a half. The next movie night she spends with them, Delphine and Saski try to flank her sides – two people whom she’d not gotten past friendly greetings with – pressed close, sandwiching her between them. Niall was irate by the seating arrangement but sat between her legs on the floor and seemed pleased enough with that. Naomi comes to her room for the first time, helps her string up the lantern lights to make it homier, and sits on the cat chair she brought in for two hours just chatting idly with her, about pop culture, skin care (even though Y/N’s fairly sure they don’t have to worry about acne anymore), about her first venture outside alone coming up soon. Naomi has always been nice and has wanted to hang out one-on-one (or two-on-one with Vivianna) for a while now, but Y/N was unsure what had finally pressed her into doing it now. 
Hell, it seemed like nobody in the house really understood why they wanted to be around her. Even Christopher lingers with her mugs now, no matter the time of day he’s delivering them to her. Harry (who, Y/N now understands disappears for a couple of days at a time to keep up appearances as far as working is concerned – those trips to Italy were more than just leisure vacations), who Y/N would say rarely spends more than the necessary amount of time with her, was in her room for three hours on Monday. 
That was her first clue that something was up. Her second clue was when she woke up to use the restroom, and what felt like a flood leaked into her panties. Y/N made her way to the bathroom, peeled her underwear down, and when she saw blood, her brain took a moment to reboot itself. 
Oh. 
Oh? 
Honestly, Y/N didn’t consider what being a vampire did to her period. She thinks she would have assumed that that would have just stopped, because why would a vampire need to bleed monthly? Y/N recalled reading in one of the books that they couldn’t reproduce, so the whole providing nutrients to the lining of the uterus for egg implantation kind of seemed like a moot point. But here she was, confused and bleeding, a scene similar to that of her in her preteen years, slightly alarmed alone in her bathroom. 
Y/N messages Naomi (who had been so upset they hadn’t exchanged contact information yet, even though they both lived in the same house and also never left this very house) and gets a response almost immediately. 
OMG
That makes so much sense 
Not that u were acting different
I just wanted to be around u like soooo bad, i had no clue why
Make sm sense
Do you need a pad? 
Naomi delivers them quickly, a whole package of them, and then explains through the crack in the door, “Yeah, the periods kind of just taper out, they don’t stop cold turkey how anybody would think they would. But that doesn’t mean your reproductive system is trying to reproduce, the vampiric uterus is uninhabitable for anything to start growing, so you can fuck without a condom at your leisure.” 
“Naomi, who would I be sleeping with at this current point and time?” 
“Wait, you and Niall aren’t sleeping together?” 
All the symptoms in the last few days seem so obvious to her now that she feels like an idiot for missing them. They were the typical pre-period symptoms that always tore through her body, but it was easy to ignore that, with everything else that was happening to her. And now she’s stuck feeling a little why too, that everyone can smell it, that they all must be engrossed enough with it that they want to be around her. 
She cramps a bit, but it isn’t horrible, and is how she can tell this is different from a regular period. Human her would be in the fetal position, incapacitated by the severity of her uterus contracting. Now, the cramping is mildly irritating – nothing more than annoying. The general malaise and fatigue that used to find her during this time of the month was nowhere to be found as well, so Y/N wasn’t too concerned about it. Naomi told her she’d crave more blood, not because she was necessarily losing any that was stored in her body, but because it replaced the craving for solid foods and chocolates. 
So when Harry appeared at her door a day later, just before she was about to close her curtains for the morning, to tell her it was time to practice feeding again – Y/N’s mouth was already watering. He wore something Y/N is sure she saw on a model when she was scrolling through Instagram; wide-legged pants made of silk velvet and a lavalliere top, both dark in color.
“Do you try to dress like a vampire?” He inquired, “Or is that just something that happens by accident.” 
“I dress to be alluring,” he sets his wallet down on the dresser and closes the door with his foot. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by Y/N bleeding if he even realizes it,  “Christopher told me you’ve been drowning yourself in far too many baggies and accused me of not feeding you well enough. He’d offer up his neck to you, I’m sure – if he could.” Y/N might have questioned why he couldn’t if Harry had given her enough time to, but he doesn’t, “Speaking of, you seem to be doing well feeding from my wrist, so we’ll go a step farther and you’ll feed from my throat.” 
Y/N swallowed thickly, her own throat feeling dry, the mention of her hunger only making it worse, “Is there a difference?” 
“A great one,” Harry doesn’t ask before he places himself on the bed, “The blood is much sweeter from the throat because it is closer to the heart. You get more in fewer sucks, but it is much harder to stop. Most humans prefer you to feed from their throat because they get the endorphins from the bite far quicker than when you bite somewhere else.”
He scooted himself up to the headboard, making himself comfortable among the mountain of pillows she now has since she brought more from home. Y/N shuffles in place, swallowing hard again as she zeroes in on his neck, “We’ll do how we practiced with the wrist, only this time I’ll let you feed for two minutes before I stop you, okay?” 
Y/N stares at him, looking at how he’s sitting, with his legs loosely crossed – at some point, he’d discarded his shoes on the way to her bed, thank god – and finds trouble in how she’s supposed to sit. When she fed from his wrist, she merely pulled his arm to her mouth. To feed from his neck, she would have to – 
“Just sit in my lap,” he instructed, so casually that if Y/N made a fuss about it, she knew somehow it would be her making it weird,  “The angle to bite will be easier.” 
Y/N raised up on her knees, wobbling from side to side until she hovered over him. Carefully, she lowered so she was more or less straddling his left leg, her hands resting on the pillows on either side of his body, “Do I just – I just go ahead and bite, right?” 
He groaned, rolling his eyes, “No you lick it,” he uttered impassively, “Of course you bite! What have we been doing this whole time?” 
“Shut up,” she grumbled, leaning forward, her eye on his pulse, “It’s just different.” 
“Bite where it smells the best,” he directed. Y/N listens. She presses close to his throat, stuffs her nose against his skin and the pulse, and inhales, trying not to drool on his neck lest he call her a greedy puppy like he used to.
 It’s easier than she thought, to give way to instinct. To smell his blood, running through his vessels and to know precisely where to sink her teeth into the skin. How smoothly she can remove the canines from his throat, latch her lips around the puncture wounds, and suck how she’d been practicing on his wrist. It’s different this way for her too – it feels far more intimate than anything she had experienced prior. Like she was leaving a hickey on his neck rather than drinking her fill of his blood. Her fingers dig into the pillows beside her, mind somewhere fuzzy and floaty – he was right, it is much sweeter here. It satisfies a craving that Y/N was unaware even existed until now; she just knows that this is good, that he tastes good, that she feels good. 
Harry rests his palm on the back of her head again, “See?” He murmured, “Doesn’t it taste better?” 
Y/N moans against his neck. She guesses, something else she hadn’t considered, was how horny she used to get on her period. How easy it was for something to set her off and keep her worked up, even if it was as simple as the way someone’s fingers fit around a pen. If feeding from Harry’s wrist made the insides of her thighs sticky, she could only imagine what this would do to her. She already feels the arousal coil and curls low in her belly, begging to be indulged. 
The timer rings and Y/N whines, long and low against his throat. Harry chuckles as he always does, his hand running up and down her back, “I know,” his voice is sweet toward her, “It’s even harder this way, isn’t it? But I’m a human when we do this, remember? How bad would you feel if you sucked them dry?” 
It’s hard, it’s always so hard to stop, and sometimes Harry has to dig his nails into her skin wherever his hand lies to ground her. But eventually, she does – she pulls away, gasping wetly, barely pulling more than a breath away from his neck, “Please,” she whined, wet and needy – embarrassing. God, she was so embarrassed, but the shame was a small little seed at the pit of her belly, being smothered by the blood warming her insides. At some point, her hands had moved from the pillow to Harry’s arms, her fingers digging into the flesh of his bicep, “Hungry.” 
“I know you are, greedy little pup,” he held his palm at the small of her back, and Y/N would recoil at him referring to her as a dog again if he didn’t smell so good, “You did well stopping. We’ll try for two minutes again.”
Y/N doesn’t have to be told twice, latching to his throat, drinking greedily. The sounds she’s making are mortifying, moaning, whining, grunting, “You’re noisy tonight,” he remarked, “What’s gotten into you?”
You need to, she wants to say, I need something inside me or I’m going to scream.
This time when the alarm rings, Harry is quiet. She’s confused and at first, she doesn’t give a single shit why he hasn’t said anything. If Harry just wants to let her drink until she’s finished, she will take and take, until her brain is fuzzy and her craving is satiated. 
But then she feels Harry’s hands, cradling the back of her head or her lower back, but pressed to her hips. His touch was rougher than it had ever been with her, strong, like he was trying to still them, and oh my god, was she – “Ah, ah,” he murmured, and Y/N stopped sucking, “You really are a greedy pup, humping my thigh like that. Are you going to explain?” 
It takes all the strength she has in her to pull away from his neck, not just because she doesn’t want to stop drinking from him. The thought of having to look him in the eye after moaning against his throat and humping his leg is absolutely mortifying. This was not the sort of situation she’d imagined when she would bring up to Harry any of this – how feeding from him makes her feel, how she’s on her period, how it’s an amalgamation of both that is making her feel like this. 
Y/N contemplates if getting whatever rashy sun situation would really be that horrible if it meant avoiding this conversation at all costs, but the grip Harry has on her softens. He circles his thumbs over her sweatpants like he’s trying to coax it out of her, letting her know that it was okay, to be honest. 
The skin of his neck is stained pink and two droplets of blood run down the side of his throat, looking and smelling delicious. Y/N wants nothing more than to flatten her tongue and lick it right up before it stains the silk shirt. She’d just be helping him, wouldn’t she? Even if he’d probably just buy another one if this got ruined, or take it to a vampire dry cleaning specialist who knows all about getting blood stains out of clothes. 
“Y/N,” he says her name, a bit more serious this time, more stern, “Explain.” 
“Sorry,” her voice was more timid than she meant for it to be, frowning, and she wondered if her lips were stained red, “I’m sorry, I’ve been – I’ve wanted to ask about this for a while but I never really knew how to. And I tried to find it in the books, the ones you got me, but it just. . nothing really explained it.” Y/N ran her tongue over her mouth, “But every time I drink from you, I feel – like, I just get really worked up.” 
“Worked up how?” 
“You know how,” she bleats, grimacing at the sound of her own voice, “You know. And I’m on my period, so it was harder to ignore I guess.” 
Something lights up in his eyes, “You’re on your period?” Y/N nodded, watching as his gaze flickered down between them, where she rests against his thigh, “Fuck.” 
She blinked owlishly, “Fuck? What, is this bad?” Y/N lowered her hand to her belly, “I just didn’t know if it was something that was wrong with me or not, and I only ever feed from you so I wouldn’t know for sure. But it didn’t look like Niall got hard when he drank from you, so maybe it’s just me? Should we – should I feed from someone else to see if –” 
“Fuck no,” he shook his head, dragging her closer to his body with a strength that Y/N hadn’t been expecting – he rarely exercised it with her, “No, you only need to feed from me.” 
“Is there something wrong with me?” 
“No, of course not,” he squeezed her, “This little pussy getting wet for me is nothing to worry about.” 
Y/N wasn’t sure what the reaction she was expecting out of Harry was, but it certainly hadn’t been this. She’d expected him to question her a little, to discuss it more in-depth, probably explain something scientific that neither of them really understood but just accept that it was a fact. Or maybe for him to tease her more; taunt her for wanting him so badly, then leave her to take care of it alone. 
But Harry tilts his thigh up, Y/N slides against his leg and gasps, “Harry – what – what do you –” 
Her heart is racing, and Harry squeezes her hips again, “We don’t have to do anything,” he tells her, “I can leave and you can take care of it yourself, or I can let you finish eating and let you rock against my thigh, or,” his pupils are blown, and he looks so desperate. Y/N wondered if this was what he looked like when he was hungry – she’d never seen him look anything less than composed, “Or I can eat this little pussy until you cum, hm?” 
The way her pussy clenches around nothing is something fierce, she feels herself dripping, “You really want to?” Y/N sits up on her knees, Harry’s hands slipping to her waist, “Even if I’m on my period?” 
Harry looks at her like she’s an idiot, “Baby, do you even hear yourself?” He presses her shirt up, the fabric bunching up, “Does a vampire want to eat your pussy on your period? I don’t think anything would make me happier.” 
“Yeah, you’re right,” she nodded, “I – yeah, I really haven’t gotten off since all of this started, but I didn’t know how to bring this all up.” 
He urges her onto her back, letting her flop against the mattress and she bounces with the springs as Harry crawls over the top of her. Harry shoves the fabric of her shirt up, just beneath the swell of her breast before he works on the button of her pants, “You want me to clean you up, baby? Take care of you? Make you cum on my tongue?” 
Y/N has always thought Harry was attractive. From the moment she had laid her eyes on him, she’d known he was beautiful, but for some reason in this context, she thinks he’s even more beautiful. Even when he’s complaining, whining, or taunting her he’s always so poised and possesses an air of control and self-discipline in his demeanor. Graceful in how he walks, talks, and interacts with the people around him, always having a response to a statement, an answer to a question – he’s cocky and full of himself, but for a reason. 
Right now, however, Harry is at his most instinctive; acting off something unlearned and unconscious. A want, a need – there’s no need to be practiced and poised when he’s deftly working open the knot in the ties of her waistband. His mouth is unfiltered filth, slipping from his lips the moment the thought graces his brain. Y/N thought she was the one pent up and needy, but Harry seemed just as bad, if not more. Like he’d been thinking about it – had he? 
“Thought it was only me,” he murmured, wiggling her pants down her legs, “I’ve fed so many vampires from my veins, and yet I feed you and I’m stone hard as soon as you slide your teeth in me. Then I thought maybe I was a pervert, getting off on you drinking from me – it’s a bit twisted, my cock getting hard because my blood is on your tongue.” Y/N doesn’t even have time to be shy about her underwear, the thin pad sticking to the inside because Harry seems to show little care for it at all. He peels them down her legs, “Started wearing bigger pants to obscure it, so you could just focus on feeding, but I guess this greedy hole wanted to be filled up the whole time?” 
Harry lowered himself so his stomach was pressed to the blankets, pulling her thighs so they sat on his shoulders, bracketing his head, “Drinking from my throat, rubbing this horny little cunt up against my thigh, dripping for me, all this time and hiding it. I should punish you for that – should make it so you don’t cum at all –” 
“No, you – don’t do that,” she bleated, frowning down at him, “Don’t be cruel, I just told you I haven’t done anything in a month, don’t I deserve it? Aren’t I good?” 
Harry bites into her thigh, a sharp canine nicking the skin, and a droplet of blood trickles down the slope of it. He licked it up, “You’re so good,” he murmured, and she didn’t know if he was talking about her blood, or her but she can hardly pay attention to how his warm breath washed over her slit, “A fucking brat, but you’re a good pup, aren’t you? Always eager to learn? Eager to please?” 
Y/N knocked her heel between his shoulder blades at the nickname. Harry laughed, wrapped his plump lips around her swollen clit, and sucked hard. The moan she muffled into her palm was startled and throaty; she wasn’t expecting him to start slurping and licking at the neglected bud so fervently. It’d had no attention in so long, and she feels things so much stronger now. Every sensation has maximized tenfold since she’s turned, and this is no different, as he lathers her with his tongue. 
The wet muscle licks between her lips, cleaning up whatever had trickled out from when she was sitting on top of him, rocking her hips. And when he’d thoroughly sluiced her with his spit, tongue rolling up and down until her hips were unintentionally rocking so his nose rubbed into her clit, he licked inside of her. Slides himself as far as his mouth would allow him, fucking into her with his tongue. 
“Sloppy, messy little pussy,” he noted, and Y/N’s face feels hot, she’s sure the blood she’d just consumed from him was warming them, “I’ll keep cleaning it up for you.” 
It’s filthy, how he does it. He devours her like it’s been on his mind for a while, and maybe it has. He’d admitted that he was hard too, when she was eating from him, so it must be something between them – something in their blood. She’s sure there’s an explanation that surpasses their caveman-level thinking of ‘Horny? Fuck.’ but she’ll let Harry find it. Right now, she was just enjoying the way his tongue felt against her. How he flickered her clit with the tip of it, rolling circles around the button before sucking it back into his mouth. 
His arms curled around her thighs, holding her in place. Even if she wanted to wriggle and squirm away she couldn’t he was so fucking strong, and his biceps bulged in this position, not with the effort to keep her still, but because they were so big they just looked like that. There are no breaks to take in a breath, Harry doesn’t need them, so it’s non-stop stimulation, an endless cycle of her getting wetter, him cleaning her up, and her getting wet again from that. 
All of it feels so fucking good, and when he uses his fingers to spread her open and flutter his tongue over the engorged bud Y/N cums so hard she thinks she might have blacked out for a second. It was all so much, too much in the best way; her orgasm splintered through her like lightning slicing through wood. She pulses rhythmically, and Harry replaces his tongue with his thumb before sliding back down, fucking himself back into her hole. Like he needed to feel her squeeze around his tongue, his eyes closed, blissed out. 
When the fire withers and settles, Harry is still content to lick and clean her up. She was sensitive, still twitching and jolting with every roll of his mouth against hers but she kept relatively still. Even when one hand slipped up the soft fabric of her shirt, twisting her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Her breasts are still so sore and tender, that it makes her whine again, and Harry laughs into her. It vibrates through her lower body,  The sensitivity gives way to something pleasurable again, the more he works his tongue, lapping at the soft petals until he is satisfied that she is clean enough. Not before a second orgasm, which builds only slightly quicker than the last but is way less intense – still, her whole body curls around it, pumping around nothing until her empty hole is filled back up with his tongue. 
“Okay, okay,” she pats at his head, “Need a break.” 
Harry pulled away, lulling his tongue over his lips – it was not the bloodied mess she’d expected to see on his face, lips just barely tinged red by it. He leans his head on her thigh, his hand grazing down from her chest to her stomach, rubbing mindless circles into the soft skin. “Can’t believe you were getting horny when you ate, and you never said anything,” she fluttered her eyes down to him, finding his gaze already set on her, “Didn’t I tell you to notify me of everything out of the ordinary you’re feeling, hm? Or did you used to get wet when you ate porridge too?” 
He went right back to scolding her. Y/N guesses that isn’t a surprise. 
“Your age is showing old man, just say oatmeal.” she retorted, “And you didn’t say anything about you getting hard each time either.” 
“I’m your mentor, I don’t have to report to you.”
“Did you mention it to Mitch, then?” He turned his face, nipping at her thigh and this time he didn’t draw blood, “That’s a no then.” 
Harry presses up from his spot snuggled between her legs, “Well, when it was just me, it wasn’t a problem. If both of us feel it, then it’s something worth investigating.” He slid his palm down to her hip again, patting her gently, “You know what else is worth investigating? How being embarrassed is what pulled you from my neck the second time – maybe just tell the humans you drink from to humiliate you when they need you to stop, and you’ll pull right off. I wouldn’t suggest humping their leg though, there’s an upcharge for that.” 
Y/N whined, picking up her leg and swinging it at him from the side but Harry caught it easily, “You’re being annoying,” she whined, “I liked it better when your mouth was preoccupied.” 
Harry gasps, mockingly abashed. 
“All you’ve ever wanted me for is my blood and my mouth. You’re just filthy.”  
                                                                    .                          .                       .
Harry is shocked by himself. 
He’s typically much more. . .poised. He can demonstrate a ridiculous amount of self-constraint when it comes to all vices in life, whether it be blood or sex, Harry could turn his head from it if necessary. If it wouldn’t benefit either party for more than a quick romp to get the edge off. Sometimes senseless pleasure was nice, but Harry can’t just go around giving his cock out to this person and that – he likes to be a bit selective. Likes to work toward it, even, with a lot of edging on both sides. Teasing and taunting and days and days of mental foreplay.
But with Y/N, he didn’t even have a chance to think. Not about what it meant for both of them to be getting horny when one fed from the other, and not about the possessive clench in his chest when she suggested feeding from someone else to see if the reaction was the same. He couldn’t think of anything, his mind swimming from the heady feeling of getting his blood sucked from his throat. The only thought that graced his brain was getting his tongue on her, licking deep inside of her, drinking her up, eating her whole. Harry probably could have stayed between her thighs and worked six more orgasms out of her and been completely content with the sweet, heady taste on his tongue. 
Plus, when he really considers it, there was a benefit to this – they were getting closer by the day. Y/N should trust Harry with all things, whether that be making sure she’s fed or an orgasm to help her when she’s pent up. Sure, that’s different than what he offered to his other mentored vampires but Y/N was just different too, so that’s why.  Harry found her cute and she made him hard when she drank from him, and those are two responses Harry typically doesn’t have to those he’s training. This is better than him being unreasonably angry with her because he doesn't understand why he's so worked up after she drinks his blood though -- that was getting them nowhere.
Harry is concerned though. There's a bit of a problem, if you ask him, besides the obvious one.
Because when Y/N emerges from the bathroom, after taking a shower since she was complaining about feeling sticky (“You didn’t mind it when I was tongue fucking you.” “Shut up!”), she was in a different pair of sweatpants and a soft-looking sweatshirt. The colors were mismatched and cozy, and Harry wanted to stay in her bed, lie on the opposite side she usually chose, and talk to her until she finally succumbed to sleep. He wouldn’t even mind snuggling close to her, letting her lay in his arms, and falling asleep with her head on his chest. Honestly, he was not even sure why he hadn't left her room yet, just waiting patiently for her to return, under the guise of checking her bed to make sure they hadn't made a mess on it.
When the hell did he start feeling so affectionate toward her? 
That’s the problem. 
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hrryfics · 4 months
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Masterlist
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Angst :) All I write is angst :) You probably shouldn’t be reading this if you’re having a good time
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hrryfics · 5 months
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Strawberry Kisses
Hello my loves! Watermelon Sugar is of course the inspiration so please enjoy and I seriously think ten nuns should hit me on the back of the head with bibles. I truly feel this is one of my best smuts and it’s sweet and sugary. Okay thank you. Also, I was listening to Evil Ways by Santana while writing most of the smut and I wanna fuck Harry to it, okay thanks for coming to my ted talk.
Rated R, duh: smut. 3.7k words.
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He woke up Sunday morning with a soft smile at the sight of you fast asleep. You were under the thin cotton sheet with your arm draped over his chest. His fingers ran down your forearm as he debated if he should even get up and go to the grocery store. He had to get some cleaning supplies for spring cleaning—yet, he didn’t wanna wake the beauty next to him nor did he wanna cause the slightest disturbance to your slumber. So he lifted your arm as soft as he could and shimmed our underneath, letting your forearm drop to the mattress. He let out a soft breath—a sigh of relief for not fucking up his angel sleeping on clouds. 

He did what he needed and got ready, coming back to the bed to look at you. He kissed your cheek and you groaned. “No, shush, go back to bed. M’only going to the store.” You whined softly, not fluttering your eyes open as you spoke a beautiful rumble. “Wait.” He crawled back into bed and ran his hand down your arm, “Wha’ baby.” You still didn’t open your eyes, your face pressed into the soft pillow as you tried to form the words. “The list…on the fridge Harry, don’t forget it.” He laughed softly, his mouth falling into a smile as your hand reached out for him. He grabbed your hand and kisses your wrist, “I won’t, now go back to bed. I’ll be back soon.” 

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hrryfics · 5 months
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Nothing good ever happens after 2 a.m.
Warning: This is so angsty like -omg made myself cry- angsty. Consider yourselves warned.
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You’re trying your damn best to fall asleep. You’ve been trying that for a couple of hours now. You know you’re going to regret this in the morning, that is in the mere four hours left before you have to get up and get ready for work. You feel so tired and yet you can’t sleep. There’s this one tiny little thing that’s bugging you.
Harry’s not in bed next to you. Again.
The bed is cold, or rather it seems that way to you, cause you’re shivering even though you threw an extra blanket over the duvet before you got in. You know it’s because he’s not in it, cuddling you, keeping you warm. You can’t get comfortable for the life of you, switching positions every few minutes, without any results. You know it’s because the only position that would ease these anxious thoughts would be lying in his arms.
You check your phone again. 2:28 a.m. Still no call. Still no reply to your last text. He said he was going out with some friends. He said don’t wait up for me. And yet you couldn’t help but worry.
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hrryfics · 5 months
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Broken promises
Harry Styles fanfic
Warning! Contains smut.
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"Oh come off it, Harry. You can't be serious!", Mark exclaimed, looking flabbergasted.
"I'm telling you, no more drinking. I promised.", Harry said, taking a slow sip of his soda, looking towards the bar.
They were hanging out at the pub as usual. It was a pub tucked away in a quiet little street, around a half hour away from London. It was the only place they had left. The only place he had left. To be normal. To feel normal. To pretend everything was the same as it was.
No one ever recognised him there. Or at least they pretended they didn't. And it was good enough for him. It was the same as he was doing. Pretending.
Mark had ordered his usual beer and was almost through with it, wondering aloud if he should order another one or switch to a gin. When Harry said he was sticking to sodas all night and every night from then on, Mark couldn't believe his ears. Bloody Harry Styles, doing everything from booze to weed to coke to everything all at once at his prime, was going stone cold sober.
"You're really good at making promises, aren't you?", his oldest friend remarked. Pretty shit at keeping them though, he thought to himself.
Harry smirked, his eyes never leaving their new-found target.
"So, are we still hanging out at the pub then? How can you be sober at a bloody pub? That's ridiculous, that is.", Mark ranted, visibly annoyed.
"Where do you propose we hang out then?", Harry prompted, knowing full well he didn't have an answer to his question.
"My place?", he asked, hopefully.
"Yeah, no thanks. Your place is full of your bloody screaming children. You know I can't stand that for more than thirty minutes at a time."
"Yeah, right. Sometimes I think you love those kids more than me.", he said, laughing.
Harry didn't reply. He was busy staring towards the bar.
Mark turned around annoyed, to finally see what his friend had been staring at for the whole time they were there. Yeah, remarkably shit at keeping promises, he thought again, realising that his friend was looking at a group of girls sitting at the bar doing shots. Staring at one particular girl.
He sighed. "Just go over there already. I have my bloody screaming children to get home to."
"Don't mind if I do", Harry said, chucking the remainder of his soda in one gulp. He picked up his glass and walked towards the bar, muttering a half-arsed goodbye to his friend.
Mark left without saying goodbye back, but Harry didn't care. Mark was as loyal as they come, and no matter what he got up to he always seemed to be able to forgive and forget.
He had gotten to the pub about ten minutes before his friend that night, which gave him plenty of time to scope out the place. It was almost empty, apart from the table with the three usual pals of the owner, who where there every day of the week, and a group of girls who were probably on a pub crawl, half of them looking already drunk.
Mark used to joke that the only thing keeping their favourite pub from closing were Harry's generous tips. Harry thought he was probably right, judging by how dead this place was on a Friday night.
He had sat at their usual corner table and ordered a soda, trying to convince himself that he was going to keep his promise. He waited patiently for Mark, whilst trying to listen in to the girl's conversation to pass the time. He was keeping his head low subconsciously, trying not to get recognised by them, as he was so used to doing, but they didn't even glance his way once.
"Next round's on me!", a petite blonde girl from the group shouted, her high voice way louder than it needed to have been.
A bunch of excited "woos" came from the rest of the girls, and they all cheers'd together when their beers arrived.
"To Jenn, for finally getting the promotion she was chasing after for fucking two whole years!", one of them said.
The blonde girl screamed excitedly, meaning she must've been Jenn.
Harry shamelessly checked them all out, one by one.
The girl named Jenn was the shortest of them all, but she screamed the loudest, and she seemed pretty drunk out of her mind already.
Vomit city, Harry thought, even though every cell of his being was yearning to be as drunk as her right now.
Next to Jenn, was another blonde, with long curly hair, blue eyes and a prominent nose. She was laughing constantly, her high-pitched laugh instantly putting Harry off, even though he thought she looked pretty hot in that short leather skirt she was wearing, contrasting her doll-like face.
Then, there was a really tall girl, probably about the same height as Harry with the heels she had on, with bright red lipstick and a white dress, light-brown curly hair and the same blue eyes as the weird laugh girl. Looks like sisters, Harry thought, and then his eyes fell to her right ring finger, where he spotted a gold band. He instantly reached for his own ring finger, absentmindedly rubbing the spot where a ring would be.
Moving on to the last girl, he thought, but he couldn't see her clearly from where he was sitting.
He waited for a bit, figuring she was bound to move around and he could catch a glimpse at her, but she was sitting pretty still.
He was staring at her all night long, while Mark was chatting away at him, blabbing about his wife wanting him to wash the dishes every night and how he was sick and tired of driving all around town to pick up his kids from some place just to take them some place else. Harry knew Mark loved doing those things, and he was just messing about, just to have something to say. Mark's life was pretty much the same every day. Harry could sense that he felt embarrassed about that, every time they got together.
When they were growing up, everyone thought Mark was going to be the one to make it. He was on his way to be a brilliant football player, everyone said so. And then he hurt his knee pretty bad one day at practice when he was 15, and he wasn't the same ever since. So he got a job at a bank, rose steadily through the ranks, got married to a plain girl, bought a plain house and had plain children. Pretty embarrassing, compared to his world famous best friend.
Harry wished he could understand how jealous of his plain life he was. And he pretended he wasn't. That's what he was best at.
The last girl was wearing high-heeled black leather boots. Black sheer tights, short black skirt or dress, he couldn't exactly tell. Toned legs underneath.
He caught a glimpse of long dark, almost black curls.
He heard her singing along to the song that was playing. Some song about sweaters. Warm, sweet voice. Decent, he thought.
He heard one of the others call her Rosie.
I like the name Rosie.
Mark had finally caught on. He told him to go over there, so Harry went. As if he was waiting for his permission.
He walked slowly towards the bar, settling across from her, asking the barman to get him another soda.
She turned around at the sound of his voice, and he could finally get a good look at her.
She had long black hair, very long indeed. It was loosely curled, and it gave her a wild look.
High-arched black full brows, verging on unkempt, but suiting her.
Piercing eyes. Almond- shaped, honey coloured, almost yellow in certain lighting. Shooting daggers at him. Feral.
Sharp jaw-line, straight nose. Gold hoop earrings.
Full, rose lips.
Rosie.
Harry was taken aback by how intimidating she looked, almost unapproachable. He took his soda in hand, ready to get back to his table, disappointed.
And then she smiled. She smiled at him. Big, beautiful, genuine smile. Reaching her eyes, making her squint, tiny lines appearing next to them.
Oh, sweet Rosie.
Harry was hooked. And so was Rosie, it seemed, cause she excused herself from the group and went around the bar to sit next to him.
"Wanna buy me a drink?", she asked, smiling that big smile of hers.
Bold.
"Don't you think you've had enough?", Harry asked, smirking back at her.
"How about I buy you one then?", she remarked.
Very bold.
Harry laughed, and motioned to his soda. "Can't. Going sober."
"Oh, that's okay.", she said, still in high spirits. "I'm Rosie. And you are?"
"I'm Harry. Nice to meet you.", he said shaking her hand. Soft, warm, hand. He held it slightly longer than necessary, but she didn't seem to mind.
"You seem a bit more together than your friends.", he said laughing, as he noticed Jenn across the bar, almost falling out of a stool.
"Oh, yeah, I can hold my drink a lot better than them.", she replied. "It's okay, though, we all deserve to let loose sometimes."
"Couldn't agree more.", he smirked.
"Wanna come back to my place?", she asked, without hesitating. Unashamed, she stared at him intently, her suggestive look emboldening him.
"Hell yes", he exclaimed. Impulsive. He shoudn't have said that.
Too late now.
She took his hand, waved goodbye to her friends, and they were gone.
Harry drove, cause she didn't have a driver's license. He was taken aback by that, asked her how old she was. She said thirty, raising her eyebrows, as if waiting for a bad reaction. Challenging him to say anything about her age.
"Twenty-nine myself.", he said, making her at ease. At least she was older than she looked. Harry didn't think he'd like younger-looking girls, and yet here he was.
They chatted absentmindedly for the whole short drive, his hand brushing against her thigh as he was changing gears. He felt goosebumps coming on his arms, every time that happened.
Electric.
They arrived at her place. She lived in a small one-bedroom apartment, with a tiny bright yellow two-seater sofa, a bookshelf overflowing with worn-looking books, two glasses and a coffee mug half-full on the coffee table next to a laptop.
Feels more like a home than my stupid mansion, Harry thought, and then smirked at his depressive thoughts.
Poor rich man.
She led him to her bed.
"Take off your clothes.", she commanded, as she sat on the bed and looked at him expectantly, taking off her boots at the same time.
"As you wish.", he said, grinning mischievously.
He had missed this part, the new, the exciting, the unknown.
"You have a lot of tattoos, Harry.", she stated, after she watched him painstakingly remove his garments one by one.
Harry chuckled nervously, running his hand through his overgrown locks, that were at that awkward length between short and long.
"Yeah, is that a problem?"
"No problem at all", she laughed and pulled him onto her on the bed. She swiftly took off her top. Harry realised she wasn't wearing a bra. How come I didn't notice that before?, he wondered to himself.
It was those eyes. He couldn't take his off of hers. They seemed to have darkened in colour, making them seem almost black now.
Lust.
He kissed her hungrily, realising instantly that that was what he was waiting for his whole life. To kiss those lips. That was his life's purpose.
Sparks were flying. Their chemistry was undeniable.
She seemed to think the same, cause she reciprocated the kiss with enthusiasm.
He took her skirt in his hands and pulled it down, taking her knickers and tights along with it carelessly, almost ripping everything apart.
He placed two fingers inside her, and she moaned loudly. He would do everything to hear her moan like that again.
He felt how wet she was, and couldn't help but smile as he was kissing her, feeling proud of himself.
She took him in her hand, her soft, warm hand. It took everything in him not to cum right then and there.
What the hell is the matter with you? You're acting like a bloody teenage virgin!, he thought, extremely annoyed at the hold she had over him. You've just bloody met the girl.
He ran his free hand through her long locks, slightly pulling at it. She seemed to like that, so he pulled even harder.
He continued to finger her, slow and fast and then slow again. He knew that drove them crazy. She was moaning even more loudly now, and he placed his hand over her mouth, laughing as he said, "You're gonna wake everybody up, babe. We don't want an audience now, do we?"
Rosie muttered, "No, we don't. This is just between you and me, babe." And then she moaned, longer and lower than before.
"You're driving me crazy.", he managed to spit out.
She reached over to her nightstand and took out a condom, passing it to him.
He removed his hand from her, and she grunted in protest.
He put the condom on as fast as he could, and climbed over her.
"I want you in me. Right. Now.", she said in between moans.
Harry obliged happily.
It was fast and it was slow all at once. He found himself stopping just to look at her for a bit. She looked even more like a wild animal now, her hair all over the place, her eyes looking at him hungrily, her fingers touching him all over, her full lips whispering his name.
Harry didn't want it to end. And yet, it was over in a matter of few minutes. Harry laid by her side whimpering. He could hear her panting, trying to catch her breath, her heart beating fast.
"That was amazing, Harry", she breathed, placing her arm on his chest, giving him a soft kiss.
"It sure as hell was, Rosie.", he agreed and heard her laughing.
Harry stayed there, staring at her bedroom ceiling, as he calmed himself down, trying to think clearly for once that evening. He had to get out of there soon.
He heard her heartbeat steadying, her breath slowing down, until she finally fell asleep.
Harry got up very quietly, trying his best not to wake her.
He put his clothes back on, and found his cellphone.
He typed a text and sent it.
"Coming home now. Not even a sip of booze, just as I promised. See you soon. x", it said.
He searched the pockets of his jeans and found what he was looking for.
The gold band that fit his right ring finger perfectly. He put it on and sighed.
He opened the door and left without a word, without a moment of hesitation, not noticing the pair of wild honey eyes looking back at him, tears threatening to spill over them.
Harry was pretty good at breaking promises.
----
I'M BACK BABY!
Had a sudden surge of inspiration and wrote this in one sitting. Hope you liked it! Sorry it's a bit long. Please let me know your thoughts.
Love, C.x
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hrryfics · 5 months
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“What the fuck are you doing here?” The last person you were expecting was seeing your ex boyfriend on your doorstep with keys in his hand.
“Wow. No, hi or how are you Harry? I’m doing great, thanks for asking.” He says sarcastically and you roll your eyes, walking back to your room to finish packing.
or
a mini series about two ex-lovers getting together again under the canyon moon.
exbf!harry x reader / 2020 / COMPLETED: july 8
TAGLIST | VISUALS | wc: 15.8k
one. two week and I’ll be home
two. quick pause in conversation
three. an old lover’s hippie music
four. under the canyon moon
epilogue. i’m going, oh i’m going home
happy reading!
hi! I take constructive criticism! please be nice! I’m not a professional writer, nor am I studying it, but I do love doing it and it’s what makes me happy, so tpwk! also feedback is very much appreciated please :’) or if you want to talk about UTCM, my inbox is open!
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hrryfics · 6 months
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A/N: hello baes!! this is a little piece for @tbslenthusiast ‘s dadathon!!! i decided to take a tiny little break from writing dwm to make this, but i hope u enjoy!<3
Warnings: smut, semi public sex, heavy sexual tension, fluffy cute new dad harry, an appearance from anne 
Word count: 4.7k+
Summary: You and Harry are new parents and you finally get a few days alone in the mountains.
“Is she asleep?” You whisper through a yawn as Harry steps through your bedroom door and shuts it quietly behind him.
“I think so,” He sighs, walking over to where you rest on the bed with an open book in your hands. He leans down to press his lips to yours in a brief peck whilst he tugs his large rings off and tosses them onto the bedside table. “M’Surprised it took her so long to tire herself out with all that crying.” 
You chuckle, shaking your head. “She has a lot of power in that tiny body.”
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hrryfics · 6 months
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updated masterlist
all of the writing linked here belongs to @/floral-suits on tumblr // pretty please do not repost any of it anywhere without her explicit permission
wattpad
smut rec list 
** everything on this list is nsfw ** 
imagines (-10k words)
little flower and haz
in which y/n works at a floral shop and harry works at a tattoo parlour 
blurbs (-5k words)
just a taste 
in which y/n isn’t listening so she can’t get what she wants
peach
in which y/n wants boxer!h to roughen her up a little bit
beg for it
in which it’s quite straightforward harry comes on y/n’s face
wild strawberry
in which y/n really wants a large wild strawberry gelato
that one anal blurb 
in which harry and y/n try out anal and sophie can’t think of a good name for the blurb
that one cockwarming blurb 
in which y/n really just needs to feel harry and sophie yet again can’t think of a good name for the blurb
yes daddy i will  
in which y/n calls harry some not so nice nicknames and enjoys a punishment more than she lets on
don’t be shy for me
in which harry finds y/n reading fifty shades of grey
too distracting
in which y/n is set on distracting harry when he wants to finish his song
how to fix this
in which y/n uses her safe word and harry thinks it’s his fault
she’s gone
in which y/n gets overwhelmed while meeting some new people
watermelon sugar headcanons
in which i am bisexual and the ws mv gave me ideas…
drabbles + concepts (-500 words)
harry mocking you
dismissive harry
overstimulation while tied up
sucking harry off on a sugar high
feeling floaty at a family get together
harry praising you
harry going down on you
giving harry a massage
harry’s fingers
thigh riding 
vibrating panties
cockwarming
harry scolding you in public
sucking harry off
jealous harry
harry slamming you on his cock
harry fingering you on your period
getting caught while harry scolds you
harry using you to destress
harry finds out you like being praised
harry calling you a whore
more dismissive harry
harry only fucks your ass for a week as a punishment 
harry overstimulating you (again)
watermelon sugar concept
watermelon sugar concept but its an orgy
another watermelon sugar concept
watermelon sugar concept but you’re a virgin
harry shoving a lolly in your mouth
harry fucking the attitude out of you
harry drinking as you give him a blowie
harry and your hair
size kink things
more size kink
and some more size kink
dumbification
inflating harry’s ego
being high maintenance 
harry mansplaining
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hrryfics · 8 months
Note
A blurb of Harry’s reaction to the first time he cockwarms? 🌸🌸
hot and bothered
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summary: y/n cockwarms harry while he’s gaming.
warnings: coarse language, smut, cockwarming
pairing: harry styles x fem!reader
•••
“Harry? Are you still there?”
Harry cleared his throat and shifted a little, pushing up his glasses that had started sliding down his nose. He completely just forgot he was in a game and that his friends were talking in his headset, like he tuned it out because Y/N was the most important thing on his mind. His cheeks were pink and he was hot under his clothes, but she told him to keep playing, to focus, as if she wasn’t even there, but how could he possibly do that?
She was practically driving him insane, shifting so much in his lap or lightly lifting herself up, before sitting back down on his cock fully. She would lie against Harry’s chest, sometimes leaning in to kiss his cheek or neck, finding amusement in how Harry would start stuttering while talking and stumble over his words because he was so flustered.
“Yeah, sorry.” Harry replied, trying his best to keep his voice stable and composed, holding back a whimper when Y/N suddenly had a hand in between her legs, the pads of her fingers rubbing against her clit with soft, quiet moans slipping past her lips. “I-I’m sorry guys, but I’m just not feeling well today. I think that’s it for me, I’m sorry.” Harry said and his hands weren’t even on his mouse and keyboard anymore, both of them resting on Y/N’s thighs.
“But we’re in the middle of a g-!”
Harry no longer had his headphones on and left the call, not hesitating one single bit before he pressed his lips against Y/N’s, whimpering into her mouth.
a/n: könig can throw me at a wall thank you!
🏷: @crow-i-guess, @planetflos, @harrycanyonmoonn, @bxtchboy69, @sweet-as-lilacs, @lyricalniall, @venusincleo (couldn’t tag you!), @bxbun111, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @emispleased, @goldenhrry, @cinnamongirlrry, @manifestrry, @sadqn1, @judesgfirl, @taylorsreputationsversion, @violetsandfluff, @phoebebridgersforqueen, @a-strange-familiar, @moonlightbea-33 (couldn’t tag you!), @famedrs-blog, @coochiesteak, @blahblahblah-888 (couldn’t tag you!), @milesisntdonewritingyet, @harrysgoth, @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite, @cinnamonlola, @youcan-nolonger-run, @velvetrylie, @vamprry, @ellie-loveshs, @gorlsinmultifandoms
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hrryfics · 9 months
Text
low rise
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absolute filth from the something old universe.
word count: basically 3k, warnings: smut city baby
---
You were on him the second the SUV doors opened, pausing for half a second to ensure the partition was rolled all the way up and his door was thoroughly shut before you launched yourself at him. You could feel the sweat from his torso start to seep through the front of your dress from where you were pressed up against him, your lips crashed to his, his hands roaming all over your body, squeezing every so often when you kissed him that much deeper.  His fingertips dug into your arse, encouraging the roll of your hips against his as he groaned into your mouth in appreciation. 
Time passed but you weren’t aware of it, consumed by the feeling of his hands on your body, his lips on yours, the flex of his thick thighs against yours when you move your hips against his just right. God, you wanted him. Needed him. Needed him to keep moaning into your mouth, needed him to keep kissing you that much harder whenever you tugged on his hair, to keep pulling you impossibly closer to him, like he wanted to consume you whole. 
The car rolls to a stop before you expect it to, lost in the heat of the moment, the heat the two of you always create. You pull away slowly, taking in his heaving chest, swollen lips, blown out eyes he wouldn’t tear away from your face. He tucked his fingers under your chin, tilting your mouth back towards his for one more kiss before you slid off of him. He grabs your hand with one hand and adjusts himself with the other, huffing a laugh when you snort. He opens the car door and pulls you out with him as you run through the back entrance of the hotel and into the open elevator, the two of you thanking his security before the doors shut. 
Alone again.
The urgency from before has faded a bit with the change of scenery, simmering to a baseline of need. You can feel it thrumming in your veins, desperate to have him alone in your own space again, to get rid of this energy that’s been flowing through you the second he stood on that stage, lifting his arms up and curling his fingers in the air.  
He steps up behind you and pulls you flush against him, large hand splaying out against your belly as he ducks down to press slow kisses to your neck. You can hardly hear the ding of each floor over your heavy breathing, unable to focus on anything but the feel of his hands on you, his lips on your skin, the feel of his bare chest against the open back of your dress. You let your eyes flutter shut as he pulls you tighter against him, his hand sliding down your stomach, inching closer and closer to where you need him most. 
Ding! 
You can feel the elevator doors open to your private floor but you don’t move, unable to do much but melt back into him.
“‘S our floor, love.” he says, voice rumbling deep in his chest as he nips at your earlobe, smirking against your skin before you snap out of it and head towards the door, shaky hands sliding the room key out of your purse and against the door, having to try two or three times to get it right, a bit distracted by the way he’s rutting his hips against your ass, pressing kisses along your jawline. 
You stumble through the doors and crash back into each other, fisting your hand through his hair as you pull his mouth back to yours. You push him back against the nearest wall, hands scrambling to pull his vest off, your hands sliding across his chest, nails digging in when he bites down on your lip.
“Need me out of my clothes that bad, do yeh?” he mumbles against your mouth as your hands slide down to the waistband of his trousers, hands slipping against the still damp skin. 
“Won’t take very long,” you shoot back, “These bloody trousers –”
“I know, I know” he says, huffing a laugh as he ducks his head down to watch your hands on his body. “Bit more low rise than I anticipated.”
“I’ll say. Practically gave away the goods.” you say as he laughs. “Looked fit though.”
“Yeah? Y’ liked them?” he asks, sliding his along the back of your neck, eyes gleaming when you nod. “C’mere.”
He pulls your mouth to his, kissing you deep from the start, licking into your mouth as his thumb circles your jawline, tilting your head just so to get the angle right. He pulls away to kiss along your neck, ducking his head to drag his lips across your chest before you pull back, hands sliding down his body as you sink to your knees. 
Your fingertips dance along the waistband, already hung so low on his hips you can see the laurel tattoos in full as you press your lips to his stomach, tongue darting out to taste the skin, nipping at the tattoos along his v line. Not pausing as you pull down the zipper, slipping your fingers into the waistband of his trousers and calvins, pulling them down.
“‘S this why you jumped me in the car?” he asks, hissing when you wrap a hand around his cock, already hard and ready for you. “Needed to get on y’ knees for me that badly?” 
You look up at him, heat rushing through you at the sight of his flushed cheeks, the smirk on his lips, his eyes fluttering shut when you start to press a line of kisses down his length. You can feel the rhinestone tassels from his discarded vest digging into your knees, shifting to kick it away when you hear him mutter curse above you. 
“Put it on.” his voice comes out like gravel, tongue darting out to lick at his dry lips as he stares at you, dark eyes unwavering from yours. “The vest.” 
You sit back, smirking up at him as your hand falls away from his cock to pull your dress up and over your head. You don’t break eye contact with him as you pull your bra off, watching the way his eyes dip to take in your body, his chest heaving in anticipation as you pull the vest from the floor and slide it on your body. 
“Fuck.” His head tilts back against the door as you sit up, wrapping your hand around him once more. His hand comes up to pull your hair away from the back of your neck, leaving his emblazoned name visible across your back as you take him into your mouth. “Shit. That’s it.” 
You pump him a few times, pulling him more into your mouth as he softly moans above you, inhaling deeply when you twist your hand just right.  You bring your mouth to meet your fist, his moans spurring you on as you move the way you know he likes it. 
“Look so good, baby.” his hand tightens in your hair on a particularly hard suck. You pull back to suck at the tip, gliding your tongue along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock as you catch your breath before taking him down again. “Jesus.” 
You bob your head a few more times, working him into the back of your throat,  relishing in the taste of him, the feel, the way he’s falling apart in your hands, moaning above your head. You slide a hand up his thigh, relishing in the way it tenses under your touch, feeling drunk with power as you can feel the effect you’re having on him. 
“Love how my name looks on you. ‘S a perfect fit,” his words were slurring, mumbling nonsense and praise as his hand tightens in your hair before he pulls you off of him, looking down at you with wild eyes as he tries to catch his breath, swallowing harshly before he speaks. 
“Didn’t want to - not yet,” he breathes out, pulling you up to your feet, pulling the vest off you to slide his hands all over your skin, planting kisses along your jaw. “Wanna come with my mouth on you. ‘S all I can think about.” 
He walks you backwards towards the bed, lightly pushing you onto it once the back of your knees hit the mattress. His eyes rake over your body as he kicks his trousers off, you barely have time to appreciate his naked body standing in front of you, the movement of his abs as he breathes heavily, before he’s on you again, capturing your lips with his as he hovers over you, reaching an arm out to flick the lamp on. 
“Need to see you,” he mumbles against your mouth, kissing a line down your neck as he starts to make his way down your body. “Need to see your face when I make y’ cum.”
He takes his time, dragging his lips along your chest, your hands flying up to his hair as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, his hand lightly teasing the other before he switches sides, smirking against your skin when you gasp. 
He continues to trail lower, pausing at your belly as his tongue darts out to taste the skin, hands sliding down to your thighs to spread them wide so he can settle in between, kissing a trail along your hip bones before his fingers slide under the waistband of your underwear and pull them down, following their trail down your legs as he kisses at your thighs, your calves, his knees hitting the floor as he pulls your underwear all the way off, planting a kiss at your ankle when he throws the fabric to the side. 
He kneads his hands into the muscles of your calves, thumbs digging in, looking up at you with a cheeky glint in his eye before he takes hold of your legs and pulls so your center is right in line with his face. 
“Want it like this,” he mutters, throwing one of your legs over your shoulder as he sinks his teeth into your thigh. “Want t’ be covered in you.”
He lightly drags a finger over your slit, the combination of his hot breath against your center and his featherlight touch making your eyes flutter shut before you hear a “tsk.” 
“Eyes on me, baby.” he says, leaning in closer as he oh so slowly drags his tongue over your center. “Want you to watch me like you’ve been watching me all night.” 
You slowly open your eyes, the image of him on his knees, wrapped in your thighs making fire lick up your spine, the gleam in his eyes making you wetter than you thought possible. 
“Good girl.” he says, barely giving you a moment to react before he dives into you, tongue first. 
Heat sears through you, a moan punching out of you as he expertly moves his tongue against you, licking into your entrance before sucking your clit into his mouth in steady pulls. You can hear how harshly he’s breathing through his nose, the grunts and groans against your core as he moves his tongue against you, moving in a mind-numbing pattern that is impossible to keep track of. 
He loves this, he’s told you as much before, loves that he can take you apart with a few flicks of his tongue, loves that he can taste how much you want him, how much you need him. It’s enough to make you come undone on the spot and that’s when you feel his arm start to shift against your thigh, craning your neck to see his brows furrowed, moaning into you as he wraps a hand around himself, wanking as he sucks your clit, hard. 
“Jesus Christ,” you moan, head flopping back onto the bed as your chest heaves, feeling like every single inch of you is on fire. 
“Y’ like that? ‘S it good?” he mumbles against you, sucking a mark into your thigh as his arm never slows down. “Y’ got me one handed, baby. Taste so good.”
You slide your hand into his hair and pull as he moans into you, licking into you with smooth, languid licks as his nose nudges against your clit.
“H - I -” you can barely speak, barely think, barely breathe. You can feel the sheen of sweat on the back of your knees, the light tickle of his hair against your inner thighs, melting into the mattress as he takes you apart lick by lick. 
“I know baby, I know.” he groans. “Gonna have to come from just my tongue, can y’ do that for me?” 
“Yes - I - I’m so close”
“Good girl,” he mutters and you strain your neck to look at him, the utter concentration on his face, the strain of his arms as he gets himself off by getting you off. Jesus.  You could feel every muscle in your stomach tighten as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. “Give me a good one.”
He sucks your clit into his mouth, hard, tongue running up and down the bundle of nerves, once, twice and that’s it - a loud moan punches out of you as the coil snaps and you’re coming. Hard. Blood rushing in your ears as you collapse back onto the mattress, trying desperately to catch your breath,  his mouth never leaving you as he drags out every inch of your high, his deep licks slowing into delicate kisses. 
You prop yourself up to watch him, his deep breaths turning into grunts and moans,  his arm not slowing for a second as he turns his head to bite down on your thigh giving himself one more pull before he’s moaning into your skin and coming into his hand, his furrowed brows melting into a look of bliss as he catches his breath.  It’s enough to make you want to go again,  the way he’s mumbling praise into your skin, cheeky look in his eyes as he looks up at you, messy mouth smirking as his tongue darts out to lick up what’s left there. 
You just stare at each other, his head leaning against your thigh, chest heaving with exertion, soft look of love in his eyes as you brush a strand of hair away from his shiny forehead, his head leaning into your palm to plant a kiss there. 
“Fucking hell,” you say, flopping back on the mattress as he huffs a laugh, wiping his hand on the comforter before crawling up your body, hovering over you as his eyes graze over your features before ducking down to kiss you, gently licking into your mouth like he’s got all the time in the world. 
He pulls back slowly, planting a line of kisses against your cheek, jaw, neck before flopping down next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you into him, his hand lightly running up and down your back as you lean your head into his chest, fingers dancing over his pecs. 
“‘M really happy you’re here.” He mumbles into your hair after a few beats of silence. 
“I could tell.”
“Oh shit, what gave me away?” he says, feigning disappointment. “Was it my tongue in your cunt?”
He’s barely able to finish the sentence before he breaks into laughter, only laughing harder when you honk out a laugh, holding you closer as he giggles at his own joke. 
“Wasn’t exactly subtle, that.” you say with a giggle, propping your chin on his chest to look up at him, the crinkles around his eyes as he laughs, the laughter tinkering out into something softer, his eyes full of affection as he stares back at you. 
“Was being serious, y’know.” he says softly. “Thank you for being here. With me.”
“Nowhere else I’d rather be, H.” 
“Baby -” he breathes out, cut off by you leaning up to capture his lips in a kiss. His hands slide up into your hair as you open your mouth to his tongue, both moaning softly at the touch. He rolls you over so he’s hovering over you once more, taking you apart kiss by kiss. 
“Wan’ to show y’ how happy you make me,” he mumbles against your mouth, kissing a line down your face, taking his time on the skin of your neck. “Gonna show you all night if you let me.”
He continues his trail down your body, reverently taking his time as his lips explore every inch of your skin. You lean back against the bed, feeling the fire stoke in you once more, the fire that never goes away when you’re with him. 
There’s more you want to say, like how you’re so happy to be here too, with him, seeing the world the way he gets to see it, seeing him more relaxed at work than he’s ever been. You want to say you also liked the feeling of his name on your back, and all that could mean. You want to say that you can’t believe this is your life, that after all this time of dreaming what a life might look like with him, you can’t believe how good it is, how it’s exceeded your every expectation, how he has exceeded your every expectation. 
You want to say all of this but then there’s his breath, and his tongue, and his hands gripping your hips and the words die on your tongue. 
“Oh, fuck.” 
There’s always tomorrow.
---
taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,
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