#you can decapitate them and inside reveals a Fan (to cool off with)

[bloodycassian]

Azriel x reader - enemies to mututals. LONGER - Peregryn Reader and Az go on a mission together. Comebacks, snark and injuries. - azriel taking care of hurt reader. 

Send me requests please! 

Not a soul dared step in your way as you plowed through the war camp.  "You will not be flying anywhere." You shouted over the murmuring group. Rhys' inner circle whipped their heads to you. Cassian's hand went to the dagger at his side instantaneously. You felt the spymasters shadows curling around your ankles. 

"You challenge me, I'm impressed." Rhys smiled like a cat, pushing off the table littered with pawns and a map of the region. Azriel's shadows curled further up your legs, taking the hint from his high lord. "Your spymasters eyes and ears seem to be doing an inadequate job." You said with distaste, glaring at Azriel. You tucked your feathered wings in tight, tension in the room spiking. Darkness flared, Azriels' shadows spiking over your legs, swirling angrily. 

Rhysand considered for a moment. None of the eyes left you. You dared not look away from the high lord. The piercing eyes of The Morrigan burned into you. Her silver armor shone even in the dull tent. "Leave us." He said at last, with a wave of his hand. His counterparts glanced at him, before obeying and walking out. 

Azriel stayed put, the shadows still circling the room like a fog. 

"I don't like being insulted, Peregryn." Azriel growled, his wings twitching.

  "I dont like dying, Illyrian." You countered. His face twisted in disgust. Rhysand sighed, taking a seat at the head of the table. You felt his aura inside your head, asking, tempting. They knew not many were a fan of their court, but so far you could really see the WHY behind it. 

"I understand you're a part of a different court but we are here fighting together against this threat." He spoke aloud, you felt his presence recede from your mind.  "If you don't want me to see what you have seen, how am I to know to trust you?" He smiled wickedly, as if he knew you would never let him in to your head. True, the night court and autumn court were not on the friendliest of terms. Especially after Thesan had made a public enemy of you for abandoning his court to help in the fight on the continent. 

"I understand fully that we are different courts, with different ideals working together. Perhaps your generals don't though." You nodded out the open flap of the tent. "Why my forces are going in first when there's an aerial threat beyond the border to Rask is beyond me. Perhaps you could explain." You said sweetly, pulling out the chair at the opposite end of the table and sitting. Azriel remained standing, his presence looming. He glanced toward Rhys, and they seemed to have a silent conversation in the looks alone. You had no doubt that he and the high lord were speaking mind to mind. 

"I can assure you there was no ill intent behind it." Rhys muttered, his eyes held no trace of lies. He had no tell , no body language that would suggest other wise as he spoke plainly. "As for the aerial threat, I will find Azriel here sees to it. If you are willing to help, of course." He swirled the glass of wine on the table, taking a sip. Azriel's face went a bit red. Likely mentally shouting at the high lord. "You understand, this assures I can trust your word and you're not trying-" He took a breath, humming as he let it out. Considering. Or putting on a show. It was hard to tell what face of him was the genuine one. "Well if you would let me in I guess I would know if you had any.. intentions." 

The silence seemed electrifying, Azriels shadows were swirling faster, whispering over his shoulder into his ear. His hair moved slightly in the presence of them. His siphons glowed, despite no direct threat. 

You stood slowly, standing tall in the presence of the two. "You know where my tent is, Shadowsinger." His face revealed nothing at your words. Rhysand saluted you mockingly. Chin held high, you strode out of the tent.

+ As soon as the sun had dipped below the treeline enough to cast shadows through the forest Azriel had appeared at your tent. The temperature seemed to dip slightly at his presence. "If you're ready we can go." He said, voice plain outside your flap door.

"And why wouldn't I be ready, shadowmaster?" You said with a charming smile, hoping it annoyed him. While pulling on your light armor, you stalked past him and to the edge of the forest. He seemed stunned momentarily, but caught up quickly. He matched your pace with ease.  

The hilly terrain made for an interesting forest pattern, but the area you remembered spotting the archers and arterillary trebuchets was very obvious. You dared not fly, with your wings so light colored against the darkened sky.  "We're walking?" He asked, his wings flaring. You crunched through the brush that lined the forest edge. 

"It's an aerial capture unit. They'll either shoot us down or take us prisoner until they get what they want." You said over your shoulder. "Is the Illyrian afraid of a hike?" You teased. 

You heard a grunt and he was suddenly right next to you, his footsteps loud as he adjusted to the rocky slope you were heading up. "I don't like being called that, you know." He muttered, his eyes straight ahead. 

Strange. Very strange for an illyrian indeed. Normally they were obnoxiously proud of their heritage like no other. It made you pause your comeback for a moment. you tried to remember the brief history of the night court you had been briefed on in training. Nothing was ever said about the high lord or his generals beyond their extraordinary abilities. 

You knew the Illyrian possessiveness first hand. Anger flickered inside you, remembering what they did to their females. The abusiveness of their court when it came to yours and your winged cousins. How cruel they were in battle. You couldn't stop the thought as it raced from your lips - "Not proud of the clipping or breeding, spymaster?" You growled.

He was on you in an instant. Had you pinned against the side of the grassy knoll a second after that. The air left your body at the impact against the dirt burm. Your wings splayed out behind you on instinct, trying to balance you. His were as well, using them as extra force to hold you there. Your hand was at your dagger, but you didn't feel the need to use it, his grip loosened.

"Fuck. you." He bit out. You saw his hands as they gripped your armor. Scarred lines lay on his fingers, the back of his hands up to his wrist. They were a lighter color than the rest of his dark skin. Ridges puckering together like soft peaks of a mountain range. The sounds outside of your breathing together seemed to stop, his sharp tone silencing the woods completely. His eyes seemed like an endless pit, despair and malice under their shallow surface. 

He shoved off you with a sigh, and continued down the trail. Wings snapped in tight behind him. You dusted yourself off and followed under the cover of nightfall. 

+ The group of fae and beasts was getting exceedingly more and more rowdy as the night went on and the barrels of mead emptied. You didn't doubt the reason being that they thought your forces wouldn't move in the night. Not with so many foot soldiers that could be picked off in the forest by...unknown creatures. You shuddered at the thought of such things. The group was no more than thirty large, probably to winnow faster. Every pair had a weapon or a net weighted with stones that would nullify any magic. The arrows were likely poisoned as well. The trebuchet was packed with stones, boulders and what looked like wooden nails. They were planning for maximum damage.

"You take east, I'll go by the river." You whispered behind him, knowing that his shadows would pick it up if he didnt. The enemy campfire flickered in front of him, making his silhouette glow from where you crouched. His only response to your plan was a slight nod. You left him to it, creeping through the trees, avoiding leaves and fallen twigs that would make more sound than the soft pine floor. The fog of shadows whipped in a flurry around you as departed him. They stayed with you until you were firmly in the trees, the bubbling stream of the river loud enough to cover your tracks.

His signal to attack was subtle, but it worked. At first it seemed like their campfire had begun to sputter and smoke, leading to them quieting. Then, two decapitated heads were flung into the middle of the crowd circling the pit.  A rustling from where Azriel originally stood had them scrambling for weapons, sticks, swords. Anything they could find. Then he sliced into three of their knees from behind. You were diving into the fray when the group had finally gotten their defenses up. 

+ The snarls died out one by one. Azriel finished off the final Attor when a blinding pain in your back hit you. Your first instinct was to stab. The fae that stood behind you held your dagger in her stomach, looking you in the eye. The wooden steak at their side dropped to the ground. Her lips parted in a wicked smile as she pushed your knife deeper into her own stomach. "Death." She hissed. You felt the blood drain out of your face. She raised her other hand and was bringing it down when Truth Teller sliced clean through the neck. The hand dropped, as did the rest of the body that held your knife. 

Pain returned to you as soon as the head stopped rolling on the ground. You could feel the blood dripping... not from your back. You let out a roar of anguish, trying to fold your wing inward. Your feathers were stained a dark red. It looked black in the dim light. Azriel was on you in a second, without a word he had his hands on you, your wing. 

Pain dazzled you in more ways than you ever thought possible. It burned, it stung, it ached. It was enough to make you pass out for a few moments while Azriel carried you closer to the fire. "Fly- Me-" You panted between words. "Healer." You barked, letting your wing hang limp at your side. Azriel was assessing behind you. Slowly, methodically. Coolness encapsulated your wing. It was a slight relief against the burning.

"I cant fly with you if you can bring your wings in. And we need to get this out before it spreads, its poisoned..." He paused, hissing at whatever he was seeing. There was a pinch and he had a hand on the firm ridge, bending slightly. " Its in too deep to hope for a healer to recover by the time we get there too." he finished, working delicately around your feathers.

He was gentle, and firm while he did his best to get the bigger spikes out. You could feel the smaller slivers digging in whenever he bent your wing a different angle or if you tensed it at all. It began to itch as the fire died, casting you in darkness. "Dammit." He sighed, getting up. You hadn't realised how bad the gash was until you looked over your shoulder to see the pile of splinters he had gotten out so far.

"I may have left some in there, just don't move alright?" He stroked the curve of your wing. It sent a thrill through you that made your stomach flip despite the pain. "I'll be back in a minute. Just... stay put. Please." He added, then he was gone.

Your eyes grew heavy while you stared at the embers glowing in the fire. Thinking of Rhysand and his smug smile kept you awake. You couldn't wait until his own general proved him wrong. And proved the group was very capable of taking out winged foes, apparently. You sighed, then went rigid. A crack of sticks sounded. You panicked, knowing how treacherous the forest was without an extra pair of eyes looking out for you. You flung yourself to the fae woman's body, clawing for your dagger still embedded in her stomach. Your wing drug behind you, limp and aching. 

"What the hell are you doing?!" Azriel gasped, dropping the pile of wood next to the fire pit as he came into view. 

"You're a bastard." You groaned, wishing you could just lay down and wake up from this nightmare of pain and terror. "You're terrible and I hate you. So much." You panted, dropping the dagger. It rolled on the dirt beside you. 

Once he had you set back up where he could see properly he began the more painful process of removing the splinters. You doubted any monsters in the dark would come lurking with the sounds you made.

"For some fucked up hands they do delicate work." You ground out through your teeth. He paused for just a second. A sharper pain than normal twisted through the wing. You laughed slightly at that, despite the pain. 

"Well- for some fucked up wing you sure do have a mouth still." He chided back. "I told you to just stay put and you crawl ten feet away. And get dirt under your feathers on top of that." He sounded like he was smiling. 

"I didn't know you were such a neat freak, Shadowsinger." He huffed a laugh, continuing to patch you up.

"My mother was. My actual mother." He said softly. He was solemn for a moment. You wished you could see his face as he spoke. "My step mother's children are the ones who did this to my hands." His voice was near a whisper. You nodded, causing a shooting pain through your back and the area he worked on. "If I have to tell you to hold still again I'll just knock you out." He warned, putting a hand on your shoulder.

+ Once he was satisfied with his work, he stepped back and helped you fold your wings in. It was stiff. It felt like a part of you had been cut off. An unusable part that acted only to slow you down. You despised it. The pain radiated through to your back once you pulled them in. Fear struck you at that. Weakly, you turned to him. 

"I cant-" You bit back tears. You hated the words as they came out. "I cant fly." You muttered, your throat tightening. 

Silently, he held a hand out to you. An invitation. 

He was even more delicate while flying, gliding on the air as much as possible and keeping your weight balanced so you wouldn't jostle your injury too much. It was still uncomfortable. The base camp was miles away, with differing terrain. You hadn't realised how far it was until you were overhead and couldn't see the light from the camp anymore.

"I'm going to call you feathers after this." He said, the air around you almost drowning him out as he flew as quickly as he could. The pain spiked at the pinch of folding them in, but it wasn't as unbearable. 

On the brink of sleep, you trudged your mind back awake to respond to him. "What do you mean?" You groaned, letting your head fall on to his shoulder. Exhaustion was quickly sweeping over you. A glance up at him and you saw the worry in his features. He pinched the back of your thigh slightly, provoking you.

"Feathers seem like a pain in the ass. Going around them, cleaning them, trying to... maneuver them?" He adjusted his grip on you slightly, pulling you closer. His heart hammered in his chest, you could hear it. "Stay awake for me, asshole." He was gliding lower now, his words were clipped.

"Tell Rhysand..." You groaned as he circled the healers tent "Fuck you." You panted, moaning in pain while he offloaded you on to the healers table. Medics surrounded you in a heartbeat. He began filling them in on the injury. Azriel did not leave your side the rest of the night.

#acotar #acomaf #azriel #illyrian #peregryn #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #azriel x reader

[tomsrebeleyebrow]

attraction |  hs vampire au

moodboard made by me so don’t use pls

Pairing: Vampire!Harry x NewbornVampire!Reader

Warnings: major mention of blood, basically a slow burn with sexual tension/teasing, SMUT including unprotected sex (wrap it up before ya tap it), kids), voyeurism, oral (f receiving) and so much more, fluff and a tiny bit of angst

Word count: 10.9k (oops)

A/N: well... hi again? i guess?? 🙃 back from the dead agaaaain 🙌🏻 okay but i had a major writer block since my last one shot and oof, was it tough... but now i’m back! more relax and feeling inspired for halloween? so hope you will enjoy this special oneshot about one of my fav brit boys ❤️💞

masterlist  |  tag list

Somewhere near London, UK – year unknown.

Tonight was probably the worst one you ever experienced in your life – well, afterlife –, aside from being turned into a monstrous blood creature against your will just a few months ago. Despite your new inhuman abilities, the mob running and screaming after you still gains ground since you’re leaving a most vivid trail for them to follow.

Though your heart no longer has a normal pulse it feels as if each thump is excruciating pain. The obvious reason might be because you haven't been able to feed yourself properly since you've been... reborn. And so very little human blood was running through your veins because you couldn’t seem to control the hypnosis power. That’s why you’ve been sticking to animal blood but if you were honest, it didn’t give your body the same strength.

Now your body starts to grow heavier by the minute, along with a most painful throb to your fangs that threatens to turn you into a mindless monster that will slaughter aimlessly just to get fed. But that's not what you want. No. No. It may have been four or maybe five months since you could no longer be considered as normal, but still you thought of yourself as a human. And hurting any human was just not conceivable at all for you. You just couldn’t... But sometimes, even the biggest will in the world wasn’t enough anymore.

I feel so sick, I can't go on much longer...

If only these damn hunters knew I wasn't going to kill anyone...

All I wanted was some of her blood because she was alone... just a little bit...

Tears form in the corner of your eyes, feeling like a lost and hopeless child despite being in your twenties. Though you suppose you won’t age anymore now? Or maybe age in such a slow manor you will not be able to see the changes until dozens of years pass. You have no idea at all. The person whom turned you didn't even care to explain a damn thing and just left saying it would be “quite amusing to watch you struggle”.

Your fangs grit in anger just by remembering all this, remembering how and why you could have been so naive – stupid being the right word actually. Willing the tears away you jump into the nearest centenary oak on the side and climb as high as you possibly can. The leaves and branches obscure most of your body, making it easier to hide yourself as you wait in breathless silence for several long minutes. The humans bellow carry guns and crossbows, even torches with blistering fires waving in the cool British wind so hiding from them is definitely the best solution here.

They seem confuse at losing sight of you and your tracks, but the conversation you pick up with your improved hearing foretells how they believe you're still in the area. A tall man with a buff body and dirty blond hair seems the most knowledgeable and well prepared as he dictates how everyone should fan out to cover more space.

Sweat is now dripping all over your body in a way that lets you know your consciousness is going to fade if you don't feed yourself soon. So you use the little strength you have left to escape their sight, silently crawling from a branch to another to reach the next tree. Your senses are becoming dull as well and you know by now you’ll never be able to put up much of a fight if they spot you.

Since there is no one around right now, you decide it may be the best opportunity to climb down and try to get further away into the forest. However, you barely make it to the ground, crunching some leaves beneath your feet before a bullet was fired directly at you. With the quickest slam of your body to the ground, you avoid being hit. For the moment, at least.

“Don't let her get away!”

“Shoot her down! She's weak now!”

Your head shakes, body shivering in a sense of mixed cold and fear, hearing dozens of weapons getting loaded before bullets and arrows start whizzing your way, thanks the lords most of them missing you due to your astute senses. Like blondie said, you are now really weak and can’t help but fail to avoid all of them as one wooden arrow pierces through your shoulder, sending you tumbling to the floor with a screech of pain.

It hurts more than you expected it to, but you grit your teeth and yank it from your skin in one motion. The wound may not be that deep but you can feel blood oozing down your back, staining the fabric of your long dress. After forcing yourself to stand you try to keep running, but after a few steps your body succumbs to your fatigue and falls, noticing the humans have now formed a pretty wide circle around you to cut off every single path possible to escape.

If you weren't this weak and starving for blood, you could fight them off and get away but at this moment, that’s completely impossible. A man with long black hair approaches, extending his hand forward as he’s holding out a wooden cross. The closer he gets the more a headache pounds inside your head, causing you to hiss in agony, tears swelling in your eyes and claws scratching the muddy ground.

Is this the end?

I never got to really live...

I never got to properly love... Love in a way that was true and fulfilling.

A tear slides down your cheek but it's too late. Everyone readies their crossbows and guns to fire at the behest of the long raven haired man. Both of your eyes immediately clench shut, preparing for your upcoming death...

But it never came.

Suddenly, screams and several wet crunches invade your ears while your eyelids slide open the moment you feel an imposing shadow looming over your body. A broad but not too bulky back comes into view as you note a peculiar style of clothing, the vivid red suit they wear contrasting with the dark surrounding of the London outskirt. However the smell of fresh blood rushes through your nostrils, causing your eyes to pulsate and your fangs to throb hungrily.

“How dare you filthy humans attack one of my kind.”

A deep unfamiliar voice penetrates your skull, making you lift your head and discover a tall man with dark wavy hair. He slightly turns towards you, sending you a stoic yet piercing type of glare with intense scarlet pupils that causes goosebumps to bubble all over your body. You have no idea who he is but you can feel in your guts that not only he is indeed a vampire as well but that he's extremely powerful, as demonstrated from the way he dismembers two humans with the vicious dart forward and jerk of his hands. The corpses join the other four on the floor who you discover have their heads decapitated in a clean swipe, no jagged edging to the flesh around their torsos.

The imagery is whiteout a doubt disgusting to even look at, but it's even more appalling that all you can think about is how delicious all this river of bloody disaster smells and how exquisite it would be sliding down you throat. You start to salivate heavily with the madness of hunger, the extreme sensation almost completely overwhelming you but you try your best to hold yourself at bay.

“I didn't expect to see ya again thi' soon, Harry...” your blonde pursuer sighs, his facial expression clearly showing that now, tables have turned.

“I don't want to hear it" interrupts your saviour (at least you hope he is?), his intimidating hoarse voice bringing chills to everyone – you included – while still in front of you. “Leave right now, Niall or I won’t hesitate to rip off y’head too.”

The man named Harry flares all ten of his claws to life, also baring his fangs to definitely reveal that nothing of this was just for show. “'m sick of you killing my people. If they're slaughtering the humans, it would be different but this one–” He turns pointing his finger at you, “this girl hasn't killed anyone. I can smell it... You're chasin' her down for no reason.”

“T-That's not– she was attacking someone, dat's why she got caught–”

"If you speak one more word to me that isn't beggin' for your life followed by leaving, I'll rip all of your limbs before I even go for y’head.”

Harry and Niall stare each other down, the tension as shape as a knife. The human may know how to counter his vampire foe but in all likelihood with most of their numbers dead or bleeding to death, he's aware that right now he has not a single chance. And once again, cohabitation seems the only way to get out of here in one piece (hopefully).

“Fine... we'll be goin'. I know thi’ is yar territory mate, we crossed da border” Niall apologises, a hand over his chest and a small bow before telling his fellow hunters to retreat back to the city.

Though Harry isn't usually happy about letting humans go his posture is finally relaxing a bit, claws retracting as he death glares everyone down until they are no longer insight.

With a long and heaved sigh he fully turns around, finding you holding your head and gritting your fangs in disarray. It's quite clear you are probably not even aware of your surroundings, the blood shot vessels in your eyes telling the brunette your current state of hungriness. As soon as he's by your side in a blink of an eye, he bends down on his knees in front of you, pushing your own hands away so he can clutch your cheeks.

“Calm down, dear, relax your mind. Open your mouth and let me see your fangs, please.”

Though you whimper in uncertainty, that man in front of you is after all the vampire that slaughtered those humans to save you. So you still let him give a look at your small white fangs, your whole jawbone hurting as if you just got punched right in the face.

“I see they haven't grown completely... You must’ve been turned recently, am I right?”

Harry seems slightly angry, though you're not entirely sure it's directed at you but more at his findings. When he pulls back, you follow his body as he grabs a nearby severed arm and brings it back to you. His brows raise in surprise, not expecting this reaction when you whine and push it away, clearly disgusted by it.

“There’s no time to be picky anymore, darling. Y'need to stop thinkin' you're still human, so drink the blood.”

Your head slowly raises, panting as you stare right into his most mesmerising green eyes, some scarlet red from before still outlining his pupils, with your own sorrow filled orbs. Though Harry knows what that look represents, he could hold no sympathy for your lost humanity as he delicately brushes his hand through your hair before pushing the flesh into your mouth for your own good.

It only takes a second for your fight to disappear, the taste of blood that your veins and taste buds have longed for these last weeks finally flowing in your system. Like a wild beast your fangs sink deeper into the arms flesh, sucking and gulping greedily until it's nothing but a shrivelled and discolored severed limb.

The older vampire watches your irises glow with the brightness of your eye colour. In like a snap the strained vessels inside your sclera dissipate bits by bits, assuring that the wound on your back would heal after some minutes as well. Harry expected it when you flicker with your new found strength over to one of the corpses and starts bleeding it dry.

He stands here, crossing his arms over his classy red velvet suit while watching over you. Once he judges you had enough and didn't want you to become addicted in a way that would drive you insane, he carefully but still kind of strongly grab your wrist. You let a little hiss at him, defiantly, which makes him smirk in a way that lets admire his now noticeable dimples and handsome features. Within a few seconds you calm down but Harry is now holding both of your wrists in his grip

“Stay still, dear” was his command, simple yet strict so it feels like you have no choice but to obey.

After letting go of both of your hands once you calmed down, Harry cups your chin with his thumb and index finger, gently turning your head back and forth. You are not sure what the brunette is doing until he finds feint punctures on the side pale skin of you neck. The wound itself seems healed but you still have little small bruises.

“How long ago were you turned and who was it? Why are they not here watchin' over you?”

His array of questions makes you frown, wiggling free of his grasp just so you can huddle your hands around your trembling sorrow body, memories getting their way back into your brain. Memories you consider more as nightmares that keeps hunting you like a damn curse, only to remind you at each breath you take that nothing will be like it was before.

“He was... s-someone I cared about. We'd been seeing each other for a while, and then one day... H-he bit me... a-and forced his blood down my throat.” Telling the story doesn’t really make you feel any better, specially when you let Harry know that the man you trusted only wanted to watch you suffer for his own pleasure.

Seeing a newborn vampire like yourself, looking as lost and fragile as a deer into the wildness, really gets to him. Harry lived for countless centuries he forgot the exact number, but he definitely knows since day one that turning people was against the rules for the most part. At least turning someone and not helping them come into their new desires, powers and hunger. Honestly he is quite impressed you lasted so long on your own when he heard you say it has been nearly five months.

“Come this way, darlin'. The air reeks of human filth out her’.”

With a sudden but graceful turn the vampire starts walking away and finds it amusing how you scamper behind him like a lost puppy. Even your hand grabs the back of his velvety suit, like you dread the feeling of being alone. His comparison to you as newborn is not to be mean or even condescending. You are just so new to your turning that it is perfectly plausible to be scared and anxious about literally anything in your surrounding.

Harry doesn’t mind at all and pretty soon, you both are stepping deeper into the forest your attack happened for a good twenty minutes if not more. Then in front of you slowly appears what looks like a field, a large meadow embraced by the night and in its middle a quint little cottage. It looks nice and homey, but not what you first expected from a fearful creature like him.

“It's not a castle...”

The older vampire sneers at your remark and then turns to you, showing a surprisingly charming grin before pointing to the east. “My real home's far away from here, that's where the castle of y’stories will be. It's vast an' much larger than y'could possibly think, but I don't really fancy it.”

Your eyes blink curiously at him before gasping and pointing your finger in disbelief, a sudden realisation sticking your mind.

“O-Oh my god– are you from r-ro-royalty?!”

“You could say that” the brunette grins while pushing some curly locks back from his forehead. “Lord Harold Edward Styles, is what they call me. Harry for short.”

He merely cackles when your eyes start to swirl in confusion, before babbling nonstop that you didn't know and hope in the same breath with fearful eyes that he won’t kill you. Harry can’t help but frown at this, letting out a sigh.

“Come 'ere and tell me your name, dear. I have no reason to kill ya.”

For some reason, the peaceful and serious expression on his face feel trustworthy, offering his hand like a safety net he knows you need to feel secure. So after a small nibble of your bottom lip, you slowly place your petite hand in his and let him pull you inside his home.

“My name is (Y/N)... Thank you for saving me, my Lord.”

It honestly feels awkward to refer to him like that but maybe was it his rightful term? Being now a vampire yourself, you assume your “rank” is probably way lower than his so “serving” him seems... obvious, right? Yet anything that was happening since you began this new life was a matter of pure confusion to you, even more now since your new encounter with this vampire from royalty.

“You wanted to know who turned me... well, his name was Nick. I don't know if he's still around here, I'm sorry–”

“Just call me Harry, darlin’. I don't care at all for useless formalities unless y’break the rules or try to attack me.”

You viciously nod your head. Never would you do that, you still feel incredibly grateful and intimated by just being in his presence.

“The name sounds familiar as well. A fugitive whose turns 'umans against their will for dozens of years...” Harry mutters to himself, looking pissed that the enforcers in charge of catching people like that still haven't.

And so over the next few days, you learned about your new species in details and got a low down on all the rules you must do your best to follow at all costs. Harry even began to teach you about your abilities and how to tame your appetite for blood, though he commented once again that you were handling yourself well from the beginning.

Harry is for sure a mysterious man and doesn’t honestly act like someone whom is probably rightful King to the vampire’s world. It’s pretty clear he lived a long life while yours had just started. He appears to you as a ray of hopeful guidance in a world that becomes murky and malleable.

“(Y/N), dear, come 'ere.”

At his beckoning call, you place down the book you're reading and come to sit down next to him on the couch. At this point you've been staying with him in the cottage for a few months and knew what to expect when his hands approach your visage to cup your cheeks. Though it’s still a little embarrassing, but still you part your lips and let him examine your fangs like he has many times before ever since you met.

“They're just 'bout fully grown, since you've been fed regularly.”

Your head nod as his hands delicately slide away. It looks like there is something going on his mind, an internal struggle based on his body language that you get used to understand by now.

“Are you still havin' headaches and painful pulses?”

Honestly you wish to say no so he wouldn't worry. But the man likes the truth and only the truth as if the word is his middle name, and you own him that.

“Sometimes... but I'm fine right now. I thought it might be a form of withdraw?”

“You're not too far off. That piece of– person who turned ya didn't give you enough blood. Your human cells an' new vampire ones were basically fighting for dominance at the beginning, but it's clear which one will win in the end.”

Lifting his hand he uses the sharp claw of his index to slice a gash across his palm. Instantly his dark red blood pools in his grasp, before holding it out towards you.

“Drink.”

“I... c-can't?” It comes out as a question because you are indeed confused. “I mean– am I even allowed to? You're the vampire Lord after all... I–I don't want you to get in trouble–”

Harry chuckles immediately, like there isn’t a being alive that could punish him for breaking the rules. With a lift of his unharmed hand looping around your hip, he has you feeling all kind of dizzy when he clenches his fist and dripped his blood onto your plump pink lips.

“Just drink, dear. Maybe I need to start teachin' ya not to question my decisions, mmh?”

His words and your newfound position that has you sitting in his lap makes you feel bashful. You barely begin to lick your lips when the brunette lets you grab his hand to hold it up against your mouth. He feels your warm tongue lap lightly at first along his cold skin, before pursing against the wound and slowly starting to suck.

“That's it... You can sink y'fangs in if you want. The wound will heal faster than you think.”

You blink your big doe eyes at him, your face wondering without a word if all this is alright but you know Harry doesn’t want you to doubt him. Pulling back for just a second you take a breath and bare you fangs again, gently pressing into his skin enough to gulp a little more of his blood. As soon as he decides you had enough Harry pulls back and to your surprise, his wound and marks of your fangs both disappear within a few seconds.

The corners of his pale lips edge up, amused by your astonishment but he startles you with a reposition of your body before you can even realise anything. Now your legs are suddenly straddling either side of his hips, both of your hands pressing timidly at the turquoise suit covering his shoulders with confusion and shyness as the vampire brushes back your hair and leans down to your neck.

“My turn, now” his voice enticingly rasps against your skin. “We can replenish each other thi' way... though my blood is more to stabilise your vampire genes.”

Harry aires the hottest breath along your neck as he then bares his long fangs and sinks deeply into your flesh. You can’t help but gasp, but it sounds more like a moan that you aren’t completely aware of as he starts sucking your warm liquid.

“O-oh Harry–”

He smirks at your honesty, looping both of his hands around your backside. Within seconds he feels your own unsure sway, with the slow pet up against the back of his dark curls. It's been awhile since the brunette had a woman in his arms so his instincts and desires are telling him to take advantage of it.

But in the end Harry resolves against himself as you are still new to his world, and just wants to help you without adding strings. After a handful of seconds and a gulp or two of your sweet wine he pulls back, tenderly lapping up and down the holes until they heal properly and then help you sliding off his lap to make you sit next to him, catching sight of a shy blush of your cheeks and slightly faze expression.

“You shouldn't experience headaches anymore, darlin'” he begins almost too indifferently, “just don't do anything futile an' you’ll get used to bein' a vampire in no time.”

Next Harry sits up more comfortably, flattening his cream oversize pantsuits over his thighs as he side-eyes your cute expression – though is kind of displeased that you’re not looking at him anymore. But he does have to admit that teasing someone was such a nice sensation.

"I’m goin’ to make us some food, so relax in the meantime.”

You simply nod as an answer, definitely not trusting your voice since only stutters would come out if you try. But Harry doesn’t seem to pay attention to your lack of vocal answer, a satisfied expression on his face since he keeps enjoying the reactions you get over anything he does. And as much as he could simply use pressure to dominate and have you sweating in fear, all the man wants is a companion that won’t mind being at his side for awhile.

And so that's exactly who you became to the vampire.

Even after a few months and display that you were functioning perfectly as a vampire and could live on your own without trouble if you desired, you stayed. But the disheartened expression you showed him when Harry said you could leave struck a chord inside his chest. It was clear you thought he’s got tired of you or that you weren't allowed to stay with someone like him for very long because of his status.

Instantly the older vampire put a stop to any of those thoughts by saying that if you wanted to stay, you could. He wasn't kicking you out, he was only giving you the opportunity to leave and see the world by yourself. You were still a young and inexperienced vampire after all. Though the thought of traveling didn't sound like a bad idea, the year you spent with Harry up to this point had been very enjoyable. He held a most gentle yet imposing aura, which was only right since he was not just Lord in name but mostly in power. However that wasn't why you wanted to stay.

Harry had taken care of you and made you feel safe. The feeling you began to experience for him was new but somehow, you wanted to nurture the desire to be with him and make him happy if possible. The way he talked, teased, touched, held you in his grasp and let you feed off of him felt so intimate and somehow romantic.

In this respect time flew by and in a way felt like it had frozen since neither of you would show any signs of ageing. Both of you grew closer and found out that Harry was (surprisingly) a great cook, received visitors from the castle he told you about almost all the time and had a soft spot for the graceful beauty of nature. It was not that hard to tell because the brunette admitted right away that he enjoyed wandering outside the cottage, might be only to walk around or appreciate the first rays of dawn or sunset. And you could tell he took care to not trample the flowers under his steps and sometimes, you saw him watering the ones around his front porch. Some days you would even notice a new bouquet freshly gathered, settled in a Victorian style vase on the living room table. It was a small most insignificant trait, but you adored finding out those types of mannerisms.

“Harry?” you call softly with a thoughtful finger under your chin. At first you thought he was reading in his study since he had a nice little library, but the room was empty. Turning back, you check the living room and kitchen but they are both empty as well.

For a moment you wonder if he stepped out without saying – he's done it multiple times before. However you stop in front of his bedroom and get the feeling he might be taking a nap, another thing that isn’t uncommon. If he indeed is resting you don’t want to disturb him but after a small knock, you peak your head inside the room.

Low and behold there the brunette vampire is laying sprawled out on his bed, the silly thought that it should have been a coffin makes you giggle but you learned with him that many stereotypical aspects of vampires are so wrong – though it's true you can't walk in the sunlight, that crosses can cause pain and any significant damage to your body will kill you.

Now that you know he's asleep, you can't ask him what you wanted. Without getting too close you watch him sleep for a second and find his peaceful expression alleviating. Every now and then, you get the feeling the weight of the world was on his shoulders. And inside your heart, you know he was such a good man. After maybe a minute you turn back, ready to head out the room but his low and raspy voice calls out to you in a way that has you tripping over your own feet, bumping into the nearby wall.

“What is it, (Y/N)? Aren’t ya a bit clumsy, dear?” Harry snickers while sitting up, watching you rub your shoulder with a flustered expression.

From the look on your face and the way you avoid eye contact, he can clearly guess what you are bashfully unsure of if it's alright to ask of him.

“If you want to be fed, come ‘ere.”

The fact that Harry always knows what's on your mind is a little scary and reassuring at the same time because he has never used any of his power to harm you. With soft eyes, you step over to the right side of his bed and watch as he unbuttons the first few around the collar of his extravagant flowing shirt. As soon as his neck is exposed from the lacy collar, the vampire leans to the side beckoning you to take what you want without a word.

A gulp slides down your throat as you sit down on the edge of the bed. With the lift of your hands, you slowly push his pearly necklace up then press them on each of his shoulders before brushing your nose along his neck, fanning an ever soft breath against his skin with the bare of your fangs.

“I really like your personality, Harry... I-I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Your tender confession catches him off guard more than the actual prick of your fangs, not that any bite you'd already given him comes with very much force. The brunette can feel himself enjoying the way you suck his blood out of his system. It’s definitely a hard thing to play off for him right now, and it has actually been every single day you shared with him.

When you had a gulp or two you then part a little and tenderly kitten-like lap at your punctures, speeding up the healing process for him.

“... do you want to bite me as well?”

Though your cheeks are a little warm you show a most candid smile, brushing back your hair to display your neck for him just as he has done for you.

“I do, but... I'll decide where I want to bite ya. Just relax, darlin'.”

Despite a little confusion, you don’t mind the tug of your body closer to his own. Both of his unblinking emerald orbs glanced your body up and down in a way that makes you feel embarrassed. If he’s not going to bite your neck, where else is he going to sink his fangs?

The dress you have on is a simple long white off the shoulder variety that honestly displays some of your skin while still letting you look sweet and innocent. Honestly Harry likes it a lot – maybe a bit too much actually – just because he would wickedly enjoy defiling that imagery in his mind. You are a kind and sweet woman, a total sweetheart indeed, but the man already found out vividly that you liked pleasure just as much as anyone else does.

Without thinking very much his cold hand raises up against your right knee, the tail of your outfit covering it. The way you shyly bite your bottom lip with your fangs is a hell of a nice image. Harry only caresses a little bit along your inner thigh before sliding his hand under the fabric, and then rest it directly on your skin. Edging his head forward he startles you with the way he tugs down the middle of you dress with his fangs, until he can see perfectly between your cleavage.

The location Harry chose is so confusing that your frame jolts the moment the vampire sinks into your flesh. Both his hands are against your body, enjoying its shape as he gulps your sweet nectar greedily. He savours your startled grasp on his shirt but the uneven pulse he feels beneath your flesh encourages him to keep going, his now scarlet orbs flickering with heavier desire.

All it takes is another small tug to reveal your bare breasts to his lidded sight. By time you realise his lips are already pursed around the closest nipple, warmly lapping the flat of his tongue in a way that feels exquisite. Like the male vampire you quickly get caught up in the moment, leaning your head back to moan and enjoy the added fray of his hand squeezing the other breast.

For a moment, you briefly thinks about how his saliva and tongue are both so warm as they suckle and lick your skin, when his flesh is cold and pale like your own. The answer doesn’t matter specially as his fangs tease your little nub. It’s clear Harry can’t hold back no more, now sunking savagely into your mound.

“O-oh my–!”

A ripple of pure ecstasy slides all over your body, causing you to moan Harry’s name not just once but a couple of times. The pleasure is so unexpected yet your arms circle around his shoulders, curving along his fine muscles but that’s when he realises how he’s letting his lust for you take over him.

Abruptly the brunette detaches from you, a small pop making you gasp but for the most part your hazy expression questions him with such want that he has to look away for his own sanity. The unhindered view of your breasts really dulls all of his develop senses. It had been awhile since he felt such powerful sexual desire for a woman, definitely way too long since his body was apparently getting out of control and a mind of its own. 

“Get out” Harry suddenly growls, making you frown and wonder what you’ve done wrong. “I didn't mean to do that– I just got caught up in trying to tease ya. If you're still hungry, go find a human.” When you don’t seem to move, still shocked at his harsh way of talking that rarely happen (in fact it never happens with you), the vampire turns his head back while flaring his menacing dark embers at you in a way that makes you tremble.

With a hurt expression you quickly cover your chest, trying to fix your dress the best you can before apologising like a hurt puppy and simply scamper at the speed of the light out of the room. Once alone, a now heavy silence settled in, Harry’s fists bowl-clawing his palms but it was the least he cared about. He didn’t mean to scare you, in fact he's been trying so hard not to use any of his powers on you.

The man is centuries older than you and shouldn't care about trivial feelings you may have, but both of you had such a good relationship since now and a part of him doesn’t want it to change... though Harry has always seen you as a beautiful woman. It’s not like he can’t admit that much at last, the man was kind of bad at expressing himself out loud most of the time. What he was most unsure about is if you really wanted him or if it was your vampire senses that tells you to submit to him like that.

With a heavy sigh he buttons his white shirt half way up, arranging his long and floating sleeves while deciding he should at least check on you. After all Harry won’t blame you for leaving if you want to create space between you two. Because now that he thinks about it, never did he ever speak to you like he did five minutes ago, and repeatedly calls himself a douche for that. 

The thought quickly – and thankfully – dissipates the moment he steps into the hall and hears the running water from the shower inside your bedroom. A relived expression formed on his face, glad that you didn’t leave. Abandonment was something he was used to over the centuries and had lived through many times. It’s honestly a miracle it had been about three years at this point and you maintained a good playful relationship with each other – well, until a few moments ago.

Soundlessly, Harry edges down the hall and notices the door of your bedroom open. As he approaches towards it, he finds himself inside the room before advancing to the closed bathroom door. Now in front of it he closes his eyes and place his hand on the wooden doorframe. His senses are far more astute than your own so every subtle breath you take, movements through the water or flex of your hands as they rubbed soap against your pale body... he could picture it pretty vividly. Just imagining the curves of your body is turning him on, specially thanks to the welcomed sneak peak at your chest from earlier. His fingers silently curl around the door knob, a light voice in his head reminding him once again he should stop before reaching the point of no return, that he should leave you in peace to wash up and later and offer you a nice meal as an apology for being a complete jackass earlier.

However, he can't. His senses twinge with the soothing aroma of lavender tickling his nostrils, knowing that's the soap he got you some weeks ago. With the slowest of movement that you won’t hear nor sense if you don't focus on it, the brunette opens the door wide enough to allow him a peak through the crack.

The first thing his eyes drag over is your long dress crumpled on the floor along with a soft cotton pair of light blue panties. Without waiting a second longer he tilts up and gets a completely unhindered view of your backside. His eyes follow the dip of your spine to the soft plush curve of your ass and long legs. Just observing this much of you has him gulping down hungrily but the moment you turn, using both hands to accentuate your breasts and stomach, there is no path to return to. All Harry can do is pant an uneven breath as you sway the water over your womanly shapes, washing away the soapy sheen of bubbles and suds.

The content and relaxed hum you air echoes inside the small space of the glass shower, bringing the man goosebumps of delight like a moan without sexual inclination. The more he watches your body and the subtle move of your fingers, the more Harry can't stop his own from unzipping his pantsuit to free his cock. His strong fingers curl around his girth, slowly pumping himself up and down as he watches you bend over just a bit to let water cascade down your back. An instant burn of want invades his entire body, the desire to squeeze those fine cheeks or even offer you a naughty little spank not leaving his mind.

Harry watches your hands do exactly what he desires when they pet down your hips and accentuate the shape of your bottom, like the water feels particularly nice cascading against it. Honestly, the smirk can’t leave his face. You're incredibly and undeniably sexy in a most natural way, so why holding back? His palm squeezes the tip of his manhood with excited fervor, still watching you smile shyly at the barely noticeable bite marks on your chest. You like to an extreme when the brunette vampire bites you, there’s no denying this fact as you moaned it to him many times. And Harry has a feeling you would have let him go further if he didn’t get confused about his fantasies.

The claws of his other hand dig into the frame of the door, scratching it all up as he pumps himself with the unbearable desire he has inside his guts for you to touch him. It doesn't even have to be his cock, he'd be fine with you admiring his body like you have before or stroking through his hair with that soft content smile on your delicate pink lips.

Thoughts inside his head become more erotic when he looks up at the sound of your soft voice humming a little tune. Both of his now dark scarlet eyes end up focusing on your mouth and gritting his teeth in a haze of wanting to feel those plump appendages against his girth. The movement of your tongue and warmth of your throat he can picture so vividly bring him closer and closer to the edge with each squeeze along his base and tip.

He even finds the way you rinse your hair to be erotic because you look so whimsical. A thought of wanting to devour you in every single way possible is what officially sends him over the edge, causing him to grind his teeth and grunt your name as he comes all over his hand.

His mind is so cloudy and hazy he doesn't even care that you’ve finally noticed him. Your eyes widen in total surprise, but your complexion darkens at the lewd sight of his arousal dripping from his fingers. Your head turns away before you can implode from embarrassment, hot water still running along your naked skin. You can’t help the deepest thoughts running wild and wondering if Harry was watching you shower to eventually pleasure himself to your body while doing so.

“Don't act shy now, my dear. I'm about to join you.”

At first you blink in confusion, glancing back in his direction to watch as he shuts the bathroom door to be inside the room with you. This signature showing-dimples grin enlightens his face in a way that reveals his pearly white fangs, before letting his already oversize black pantsuits fall to the floor. Harry is pretty quick to unbutton his shirt again, the soft and almost see-through fabric sliding off his shoulder to cascade on the floor soon followed by his trousers and underpants, leaving him absolutely naked for your eyes only.

Harry is the most attractive man you've ever laid your eyes on. A tall and sculptured vampiric body that probably hasn't changed for hundreds of years. With a few steps forward the brunette is on the other side of the shower glass door and wraps his fingers around the handle, ready to erase any distance separating you both. He pauses his movement for a few seconds, letting both of you take in each other’s new found appearance and what might be about to happen.

“If I join you, (Y/N)” begins Harry almost in a whisper, his eyes never leaving yours, “... I won’t ever be able to leave ya alone.”

Your eyes rise in surprise, his expression reflective of how serious he was being. For a second or two you turn away, your hands covering your face which is giving him the impression you might be having second thoughts. Though the croak of your voice and the tender expression you offer when you slowly spin back proves how you've been able to constantly surprise him these past years.

“Is that a promise?"

Without a second thought Harry is right by your side and looming over you in a possessive dominating way. Both of his hands pet along the warm and wet edge of your stomach, before gripping your hips and tugging you completely into his body. Without pretence his expression represents just how much he enjoys your whole and can’t wait but brush some of your hair sticked on your face, assuring you he can't wait another second to kiss you.

The distance between you both closes with the warmest capture of your lips that quickly becomes some passionate tongue action. It honestly feels that divine you couldn't stop yourself from moaning into the kiss. The warmth of the water doubles nicely the little fire forming inside your guts, in a way that affirms you’ve never felt such a discombobulating kiss before.

Right away Harry greedily begins stroking, groping and petting every single supple curve your body has to offer. Even your own hands note the nice shape of his back and every defined dreamy muscle. His lips curve up as he tugs playfully at your bottom lip, the gentle way you appreciate his shape really has him feeling some type of way.

“Give yourself to me, darlin’, this time I won’t be holdin’ back.” 

The air of his wanting rasp meets the underside of your chin, of which Harry is currently kissing his way down. With a press of both his hands on your lower back he has you arching and moaning as he licks between your breasts. When the vampire starts to nip at your plush skin, it’s even more overwhelming because not only is he pursing his lips but his tongue is gliding all over you. The flat of his wet muscle makes sure to whirl around the ridge of your nipple, assuring it’s perfectly erect before nibbling on it with his fangs.

“Oh Harry, that feels so good...” 

Hearing your honest pleasure encourages him to absolutely cover your breasts in love bites both a literal and physical way, each mark more blissful than the next. Your mind becomes so consumed you don’t even know Harry is backing you up until you meet with the wet and slightly cold tiles.

Just looking up to admire the shower water perfectly cascading over his rippling muscles – his weirdly yet attractive inked skin on full display and usual necklaces in place – is the most blessed image you could wish for. This Adonis of a man looks so perfect that you lean up to offer him your own slow and sensual desire filled kiss. Little do you know he enjoys your initiative, specially since you’re kitty licking around his tongue.

Slowly Harry begins to take over such as his more dominate nature, but you oh so don’t mind. In fact you’re getting lost in the way his strong hands fondle and squish your chest. The thumb of his left hand even circled around the perky tip, while his middle and index on his other give you some slow pinches like he’s determined to have you mewling into his mouth.

“I must ‘ave been out of my mind to wait three fuckin’ years to ‘ave you...” Harry growls while baring his fangs, pressing into the top area of your shoulder. The bite he gives isn’t even painful since the puncture is slow and the suckle he drinks your blood feels so pleasurable.

“H-Harry, I’ve never felt any pain w-when you bite me” you start, stuttering from all his attention on you. “I-I thought I was weird, b-but I can't help but want so much more...”

Harry’s lips curve up against your skin as you let a louder and more frequent moan, not only because the vampire leaves deep red hickeys on your neck and collarbones, but because his hand slides down to rest between your legs.

The moment you sense it outlining your womanhood, you arch your back while clutching your hands tightly around his shoulders. Without waiting his index and middle finger caress your lower lips for just a second or two, before encouraging your legs to spread further apart so Harry can thrust them effortlessly into your core.

“A-ah– feels so good!”

Enraptured by your praise, Harry increases his rhythm and feels the thump of your slow heartbeat. His own is probably pulsing in the same way, it's been so long since the man felt this exhilarated. With a caress at your hip for you to steady, the wobble your legs frays at his kisses all over your breasts and even a slippery curl with his tongue down to your belly button.

By the time you try to follow what’s happening, the brunette is already on his knees between your legs, kissing nonstop at your inner thighs. Out of the corner of his eye you can tell Harry is actually watching himself glide his fingers in and out of your slippery folds. It should be embarrassing, but you find that more thrilling than anything else. He’s so passionate as a lover, the attention he gives being excruciatingly euphoric whatever he does.

“Earlier” his raspy voice mumbles against your thigh before he proceeds, “I was so tempted to push y'down an’ bite your thigh...”

As he licks hungrily at your skin, you recall how he caressed up your upper leg earlier, the touch offered when you woke him up was oddly intimate. It made you bashful since it was so sudden, but if he had done as he wanted you wouldn't have stopped him.

“Now I’ve a second chance... so don't mind if I do, darlin’.”

Your chest heaves with the warmth bubbling all over your skin as you watch the bare of his pointy sharp fangs and the immediate pierce into your inner thigh. A loud moan echoes around the shower, the vibrations prickling Harry’s ears and assuring he won’t part from your delectable flesh until he gives you his most vivid love bite.

Your head shakes at how all consuming the pleasure you’re gladly receiving feels. And as he sucks the sweet blood from your thigh, he doesn’t hesitate to add a third finger into your fold, now working a pace that lets you know in accurate detail that you're indeed incredibly wet. It’s not just the shower anymore, both of you know this for a fact. By now you have no problem admitting you’re turned on like a thousand lightbulbs.

“Your smell’s drivin’ me insane...!” came his lidded snarl, some little blood dripping down his chin but quickly washed away by the shower. Harry is darting for your womanhood like a famished animal, the instant curl of his fingers along your slit having you whimpering and yanking at his wet hair a bit too hard.

“F-fuck– I’m sorry Harry” you whimper out your sincere apologise along with a moan, the back of your head bumping on the tile wall as if the king of vampires like the one kneeling between your legs could get hurt from such a small type of friction. “It feels like I-I can't breath– feels so good!” 

"If you're that out of it, y'can be rougher...”

His warm breath hazes over the sensitive bead of your clit, making you convulse in pleasurable disarray. With his hands taking a fist full of your ass, Harry pushes you deeper against his tongue to then curl it up and down. The sensation of him lapping against your slick inner walls has you seeing stars, knowing a man has never eaten you out so hungrily before.

With the constant pant of your moans filling the primal space inside his head, there is only one and simple desire he has: to make you cum on his tongue and no matter what, he will not pull away until you do. It’s more rewarding than you'll ever know to have your writhing body in his grasp, not just your trembling legs when he had the chance to have you innocently straddle him, but the arousal coating his lips and the subtle desire filled push of your hands that want him even deeper inside you were exciting in a maddening way.

“A-ah please Harry, I c-can't–!” 

You are barely able to tell him how close you’re feeling right now, as drool ebbs heavily down your lips. Harry is already aware though because of the curl of your fingers, each tugging at his hair in your peak of utmost disorienting pleasure.

With a gentle pat over your soft wet body, he squishes both of your breasts and thrusts his red muscle in a most detail oriented type of way. Your praises grow in frequency as well, telling him how utterly euphoric you feels and how hot the knot in your stomach makes your skin burn, bringing you closer to your end. Everything kinda rushes to the tipping point with a pinch to your buds, causing the instant convulse of your folds and drench of your fluids flow down his chin, assuring the fangs in his mouth are vividly pulsating.

It takes everything not to sink in to your most sensitive body part. Harry manages to calm himself down with the caress of your hands falling limp, feeling one curve around his ear to hold him gently where he is. With the thought of how much he needs to claim you, the brunette gulps down your nectar and even laps the slippery sheen coating your slit.

As he raises back up to stand, all it takes is a small hazy blink for you to miss completely the way Harry yanks up both of your legs and positioned you right against his cock. “’m gonna take you hard an' fast– can't wait another second to make y'mine.”

Your lips part but all you’re able to say is a pant of his name, while coiling tightly around his neck and nodding your head.

“Have all of me, take me Harry–”

The vampire most certainly doesn’t have to be told twice, so without hesitation he thrusts deeply into your slippery folds. His speed is just as instantaneous as the pleasure you start to drown in. You never knew your voice could go so loud and high pitched until a man with much vigour and strength named Harry came along, thrusting his hips in a way that fills you to the brim with every movement he makes.

“S-Shit you're so fuckin' wet– so tight ‘round me, only for me–”

His fangs are on domineering display, getting off on your pleasurable honesty just as much as the throb of your tight folds. You don’t get to see his expression though as you leaned your head back again but this time caused by a every aggressive slam of your ass on his thighs. That gives him the perfect opportunity to enjoy your neck, so the vampire doesn’t mind.

Each electrifying kiss left on your skin feels exceptional, every sway of his hips lets you know he’s a well endowed man and quite honestly just being in his arms has you feeling this way. This man didn't have to save you or take you in and just could have gotten rid of your at any time. But the instant he's allowed you to stay and gave you a comforting space to get used to your knew desires and vampiric body.

There is a part of you that wishes you still has a conventional heartbeat just so you could feel how erratic it could be thundering against your ribcage. However, even without a human heartbeat you still knew you were excited beyond all belief. Just being able to run your hands along his shoulders, maybe even brush up against the back of his head has you feel like his long time lover.

“Fuck, I can't get enough of ya” Harry suddenly growls in madness, dropping one of your legs back against the floor while he pulled the other higher up and hold your thigh, basically watching himself rammed his thick cock into your body. There’re not a single word forming on the tip of your tongue other than whimpers and mewls of ecstasy.

His speed and precision to hit your most sensitive spots are probably only possible due to his improved senses and longevity. No doubt in your mind Harry probably had many past lovers before you but you don’t really care. He always tells you to live in the moment and not muddle through just because of your past.

“You're now a vampire, (Y/N). Act like one for your own sake.”

These are the words he told you over the past shared years together, which became your mantra to feel validated in your new life. Speaking of your new desires, your fangs are constantly throbbing and pulsating for the past minute, reason why your eyes have been glued to his neck and shoulder ever since. The need to bite him is so overwhelming that you simply don’t care to ask before diving forward to sink deeply into the space right bellow his ear.

“H-hah, y'little vixen– that feels so damn good, have your fill” the brunette encourages you with no malice but utter pleasure.

In fact he’s enjoying the twinge of your fangs so much his fervour keeps increasing. His hips edge even closer while his clawed hand takes a hold of your waist and starts slapping at your inner thighs in a way that have your arousal dripping profusely onto the shower floor.

You can’t stop yourself from moaning against his skin or salivating heavily as you absorb down his delectable blood. You swear his nectar tastes even more delicious then it ever has before, like the most finest aged wine. It's a thought you can barely focus on as you suddenly toss your head back, feeling yourself reach a most blissful end.

The moment Harry senses your insides clench repeatedly, he shoves his tongue down your throat and becomes enraptured in the way you meet his every slapping movements. Heavy saliva from both of you mixes together, dripping profusely down your chin as soon as you feels the deeply penetrating thrust of his cock slam into your womb. His arousal fills you to the brim in a way that makes you drift through euphoria.

After some time the brunette parts from your kissed swollen lips, a thin sheen of saliva still connects you together before quickly breaking when he licks his fine pale lips. The vampire smirks at you in complete satisfaction while ever slowly edging his girth away from your wall, not without admiring how thickly coated in your juices his manhood is. Maybe Harry even salaciously admires the dribble of your combined arousal from your slit, but it’s clear you are feeling utterly spent and can only keep yourself up by pressing a bit at his chest and shoulders, leaning your back against the tiles behind you.

With a soft expression that suits him so heavenly, Harry tenderly strokes his hands up your body while admiring once again the plush shape of your stomach, breasts and the slender trail up your neck to cup your soft cheeks. The smile you give him proves he’s offering all the affection he is able of with the sensual touch of your lips with his. This kiss is the slowest and most romantic you ever felt from him yet, while the brunette lifts you in his arms properly again before pulling away from the kiss.

“I'll help you dry off, dear. ‘think we've soaked in the shower long enough.”

“Thank you Harry” you thank him with a slight smile, your cheeks nuzzled into his wet chest before placing a kiss there that has him avoiding your gaze and wondering where a romance like this has been all his long life. 

You sit still once he settles you on the sink counter, wiggling cutely as he dries you off with purposeful caresses of your more intimate body parts. When he also dries himself both of you get dressed – you into the long nightdress you took before your shower and him back in his oversized pantsuits only. Afterwards, you take his hand as Harry walks you both out of your bathroom. It’s clear you wish for him to lay with you in your nearby bed but he hesitates at the edge of it, looking towards your still wide open door. It seems like Harry wants to escape but that’s not it at all. He is looking towards his study at the other side of the hallway where an item he had hidden was secretly and well kept.

“I'll be right back– hey, don't make that face, darlin’... I'll lay with ya when I come back.”

You lean into the palm of his warm hand that softly strokes your cheek, adding a hopeful nod. Your soft eyes trail behind his tall figure as Harry steps out into the hall, leaving your door cracked open behind him. With a little doubt forming in your heart you lay on the silk mattress of your bed and turn, rolling back and forth like a restless child waiting for time to fly as fast as possible.

It took him longer than he wanted as he struggled with whether this was the right thing to do or completely the opposite, tons of questions invading his mind: did you want him as much as he wanted you, and so should he trust you with a secret only a handful of the Royal vampires know? His hundreds of years differs so greatly from your barely twenty-five-ish ones. The brunette keeps rushing his thoughts because first, he wants you to be happy and second, he doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

With the item in his hands, Harry clenches his fingers tightly around it and makes his way back to your side. As he enters the silent room, smelling some faint aroma of lavender from your previous shared (hot) shower, you’re actually snoring softly while sprawled out in a way that takes up nearly the entire bed, which makes the brunette slightly chuckles at how silly yet adorable you are. He shakes his head with the soft expression you love so much on him, effortlessly scooting you further to one side before climbing in next to you.

For a couple of minutes Harry strokes your hair and caresses your skin, before taking your right hand and placing on your fourth finger a gold ring with a glimmering ruby jewel in its middle. Your eyes flicker open at the feeling, followed by a small yawn while watching the careful placement of your new jewellery with a bashful smile.

“... Are you asking me to marry you, Harry?”

His emerald eyes open wide in shock, skin darkening more than you thought a creature like him was capable of. Instantly the brunette uses your palm to cover his face and slowly shakes his head, the white pearl of his necklace softly jiggling around his neck at this. The breath from his parted lips tickles your skin and honestly makes you fall at peace.

“N-no– well n-not yet at least, uh–” Harry stutters, still hiding his face with your hand. He clears his throat before continuing “though this is my gift to you, love.” 

You can’t see the way he actually bites his bottom lip, but your eyes notice both his hands covered in rings that he always wears. And one catches your attention, the one with a similar ruby jewel in the middle yet of a different shape.

“This will allow ya to walk 'round in the sunlight, this way it will no longer cause you any harm, my dear.”

“Really? But you said that it would always hurt...?”

“Without an amulet blessed an’ enchanted by a powerful witch, the sunlight will cause us vampires harm. That’s why you must always wear it.”

Harry lowers your combined hands so you’re finally able to see the serious expression on his face. “You must never tell anyone abou' this. Not a single soul, vampire or human alike, my dear. No one.”

“I would never cause you trouble, Harry. And I promise I'll take this secret to my grave” you respond back, arms sliding around his hips like a silent wish to lay your head against his bare torso, a motion which your lover gladly welcomes by sliding his fingers through your hair. 

With a thankful smile you get comfortable, closing your eyes in hopes to snuggle with him while you sleep.

“People will not question it if y’tell them you were sired by me” proceeds the brunette vampire abasing your hair, fingers still entangled in your soft locks to massage your scalp. “It's a misconception tha' pure royal vampires are born immune to the hurtful rays of sunlight... Most of our kind think a person turned by us will also be immune.”

“I wish... I had been turned by you” you let out in a whisper while keeping your face nuzzle against Harry’s chest. “I want to be with you for as long as I'm able to.”

The vampire can’t resist but leave feather-like kisses on your forehead and hairline, your confession definitely making him feel... alive. His hot breath hitting your skin gently soothe you and so are his kisses, the sudden brush of his nose against your face bringing a delightful giggle out of you which Harry would never get tired of.

“Maybe I'll be the one to ask you to marry me, who knows...” you add, your index finger sliding over his pearl necklace with a define grin on your face. 

No words could describe how you make Harry feel. Never has he been more grateful for the quick way you fall asleep just so he could hug you tightly against him. Maybe later, he will be able to tell you that, as surprising as that may sound, the man has never been married in his long life either. There has never been someone this special to him to go for it. It's indeed hard to say if Harry wants to make that commitment with you at this point either the thing he’s sure of is his wish - no, his desire to be with you. Forever. 

“Good night, my love... Maybe tomorrow I’ll take ya to the castle y’ask me about all the time.”

* * * 

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[kdtheghostwriter]

SNK #133 - There They Go

No one:

The 104th:

The plane’s engines as our heroes hurtle toward certain doom:

Levi: Okay, but really, if I could get a spare moment to skewer Zeke like a kebob that’d be pretty cool.

Not that we needed a reminder, but Captain Levi is not allowed to beef it until he has confirmation of Zeke Jaeger’s cooling form. I don’t know if Hange actually thought that killing Zeke would end the Rumbling. They’ve made observations like this before. Not that it matters. Eren soon confirms what Reiner surmised in the plane. I’ll get to that later.

 I’ll be going out of order because the B thread takes up a small amount of panels comparatively and I want to get it out of the way so to speak. Annie, the kids and Kiyomi are sailing to Hizuru, presumably with the engineers in tow. We get confirmation of something that’s been hinted at to the point of it being more meme than meta. There was a Flying Titan, and the character named after a bird is the key to seeing it once again. Funny that.

Also, the Female Titan isn’t the ‘female’ Titan. At least, that’s what I gathered. Annie remarks that her Titan form didn’t have any special trait like the others so they conducted numerous experiments. One of their findings, apparently, was that this Titan form imitates the abilities of a Titan by eating part of it. So, it’s not the Female Titan, it’s the Kirby Titan. I mean, technically all Shifters are Kirby Titans but this one is specifically.

Anyway, because he ingested Zeke’s spinal fluid, young Falco was able to get a peek into the memories of a former holder of the Beast Titan. That holder was flying and Falco surmises he can, too. Annie not incorrectly points out that they’re on a literal boat that would surely capsize if he transformed. Kiyomi, feeling guilty for helping to arrange the initial meeting between the Jaeger Bros, says that she doesn’t care if the ship sinks. That’s all well and good but uh…hello? There’s mad people on this boat that probably don’t like the idea of sinking.

Anyway. Back to PATHS.

Okay I jumped the gun a bit. First some exposition by Reiner cleverly disguised as introspection. It’s a little of both, to be fair, but Reiner here is a vehicle for setting the table for our protagonists. Armin and more specifically Mikasa have a serious choice to make. Eren or the world. Reiner all but tells Armin that he’ll have to nuke Eren with his Colossal transformation. What’s more is that Armin agrees. Mikasa does not but it’s quickly revealed that she may not have another choice.

The line has, metaphysically, been drawn in the sand. No more words! I guess Eren got the memo of how little story is left. He even answered Armin’s question of why he didn’t turn off their Titan powers. All of them are free: he is free to destroy the world and they are free to stop him. The only way to stop him is to kill him. We suspected this but shout-outs to Eren for removing all doubt. Now it really is Eren or the world for Armin and Mikasa. Granted, we did see a flicker of the old Eren before the influence of the Founder took command, there’s no turning back to Eren now; it’s his own skin in the game. I’ve noted this before but the fact that he’s got no body inside the Titan head and this massive exoskeleton is jutting from his vertebrae says to me that this is his final act either way. Remember that Gabi decapitated him with an anti-armor round. If he wanted a new body, he could have just made one but no, it was this monstrosity that flew out of his evacuated neck.

I do wonder about Founder Ymir after this is over. Will she finally get her rest? She’s no longer bound by royal blood. Technically, she never was to begin with, only her obligation. Eren removed that obligation. He is now her vessel. Targeting Zeke is not a bad theory but he ultimately was not the one to give the order.

No, wait! I take that back because if you’ll remember he did give the order and Ymir ignored him. Eren is the one who started the Rumbling. Killing Zeke would do nothing except make Levi and his fans very happy. I think Reiner is on the right track saying Eren wants them to stop him but I’ll amend it a bit and say that he believes they can stop him. The two outcomes for Eren here are: he accomplishes his goal or is freed from his suffering. I don’t think it matters much to him which it is. Perhaps the biggest reason why the Alliance can still use their powers in the first place.

Oh, and Annie’s dad is still alive. I figured he was. With a few exceptions, Isayama usually doesn’t have dramatic deaths occur offscreen. Reiner’s mom has escaped along with them and dozens of other Eldians displaced by Eren’s apocalypse. They’re on a train, speeding up a plateau toward a hangar of spare airships. I say spare because most of them have taken off. They’re going on a bombing run with The Usurper and his front line in their sights.

It’s difficult to say how effective this will be. It won’t work, obviously, because none of our protagonists are in those airships but we will get some nice double spreads of wonton environmental destruction as tons and tons of explosives are dropped on tons and tons of monster. It’ll be a spectacle at least.

I will say as a minor critique that having Reiner wax poetic yet again on how he and Eren are the same and his squad and the 104th were the same is a bit redundant. I feel like we got that loud and clear on the night of the raid. It felt like sitting in IT: Chapter 2 when we were building up to killing the evil clown [slash] eldritch horror from space but we stopped right before the climactic battle to go through the Spook House again. It was much more egregious in the movie because the movie was over two hours. At least here I can read at my own pace but those panels felt superfluous.

I honestly have no idea how this ends. I know how it could end. For the first time in years, though, I’m not sure which direction we take. There are multiple different outcomes and at this moment it seems we are in a race to find the path that’s least depressing. The situation seems overtly bleak and barring some PATHS-fueled Deus Ex I don’t see that changing soon. The Alliance is flying to Eren. Falco will soon be flying to Eren. Armed warships are flying to Eren. Multiple combustible elements are converging on one spot. All according to keikaku.

Stray Thoughts

- Annie misses Armin and it makes sense when you recall that he talked to her almost every day for four years. They’re practically dating already. I hope she sees her dad again, but I also hope she and Armin get a chance to live quietly together in a place that hasn’t been flattened.

- Falco continues to be the goodest sweet boy. Annie was comically abrasive in return but that wasn’t unexpected either.

- Reiner was seconds away from telling Mikasa that she has to kill Eren, and I guess he must have sensed it, as he interrupted to tell them himself and remove all doubt. He doesn’t want her backing down from this and she won’t.

- Levi is in a near catatonic state. Being transported to the PATHS dimension doesn’t even phase him. Everyone else is heaving deep breaths and he barely registers being back. It joked earlier but I do hope he sees his mission through. It’s tough to see him this defeated.

#snk meta #shingeki no spoilers #snk 133 #eren jaeger #founder ymir #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #jean krischtein #connie springer #reiner braun #levi ackerman #pieck finger #onyankopon #the rumbling #meanwhile in eren's paths #it's free real estate

[shambali-sinner]

The Closet of Mirth, Part One

I know it has been a VERY long time since I updated this story, but I finally got a surge of muse and I’m going to be riding it as far as I can. This chapter goes way more in-depth with character development than I ever intended, but the characters always do what THEY want to, and I’m not letting myself get in the way of that! Max and Reader have a small fight, prepare to take their physical relationship to the next level, and talk about their past sexual experiences, all in the time between after-dinner “wine” and their nightly fuck-session! (Part Two of this chapter will include the fucking.) I hope you enjoy seeing a different side of Max!

Reminder that this story is DARK! Warnings for this chapter include mentions of sex work and gang-related execution by decapitation, as well as, well, a closet full of detachable robot penises! This chapter is not really safe for work, but does not contain any descriptions of sexual acts. As always with this particular story, Fem reader/pronouns.

Previous chapter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maximilien leaned back into the velvet couch, swirling a glass of Glenwales while he waited for you to emerge from behind the dressing screen. He stared down into the supposedly aged oil distastefully. “One of the most expensive weights in the world, and it’s practically flavorless,” he complained. “Once that deal in Havana goes through, I’m adding an omnic libation division and designing my own blend. Nothing tastes better than a classic thirty-weight-ten, but none of these vintages can get the formula right, and I refuse to drink that plebeian swill from the corner markets.”

“If anyone can design the perfect luxury oil, it’s you, Max,” you replied, shimmying off your stockings and throwing them over the edge of the screen. You grabbed your silk robe from the other side and slipped into it, tying it loosely at your waist before approaching the edge of the divider and sliding a bare leg into the omnic’s view. “There’s not a person in the world with a better sense for the fine things in life.”

His eyelids lifted a little and he leaned forward at the sight, setting his glass to the side. “Is that your attempt at flattery, my little canary?”

You peeked around the corner, a curl of hair falling out of place and swinging down to frame your face. “That depends.”

“On what?” he smiled back.

You came fully around the corner. “Only if it’s working.”

Some of Maximilien’s joints clicked audibly as he took in the full sight of you. He knew the black silk would look delectable on your frame, shining in contrast to your soft, supple skin. He hadn’t expected you to look so downright ravishing in it. At its shortest it hit your mid thigh but split and dropped dramatically in the front, revealing your smooth, bare calves to him. The back of the robe dragged sensually along the floor behind you, while the sharp neckline barely covered your breasts. At his request, you’d left your lacy red bra and panties on underneath. The way the lock of hair had fallen against your cheek and the faint smudge of lipstick on your pout made you the perfect amount of dishevelled. You looked like a present made just for him, ready to unwrap from his signature colors. He sat there in shock, the only sound the faint whirring of his internal cooling fans.

You lifted your eyes to his gaze and he could see some uneasiness in them, a worry that you were inadequate since he hadn’t audibly reacted yet. Your face fell. “You hate it,” you said, dejected.

It took him another moment to recover. “Of course not, my dear. You simply stunned me, that’s all. Come sit with me. Sing to me, Canary.”

You visibly relaxed and sat next to him on the couch, tucking your legs under you and leaning an arm around his shoulders. Your hand combed slowly through your hair. “And what would you like to hear tonight?”

“Anything to keep my mind off this horrible Glenwales. I should just buy the company myself, you know. Rebrand it, perhaps.”

You chuckled. “Something classic, then. Perhaps an Ella Fitzgerald?”

He hummed affirmatively, closing his eyes and relaxing back as you began the low, sultry intro. You stroked his shirt lightly, fingers slowly climbing to the knot of his tie and gently loosening it. Once you had the top two buttons undone you started moving your hand down to palm him through his pants, but he moved suddenly and caught your wrist an inch above his belt.

Surprised, your voice caught in your throat. He turned his head to look at you. “I have a different idea for tonight, darling. I think you’re ready for it.”

“Ready . . . for what?” you asked hesitantly.

“Come along, my dear,” he said, standing and grabbing his glass, downing the rest of the oil in a single go. “We’re going to my room tonight.”

He took your hand and pulled you to your feet and out the door. The Big Omnic Butlers stood at attention. Maximilien motioned at one of them who then emitted a small bell tone. Your assigned servant came forward. “Good evening, sir. Ma’am,” the small valet omnic said, bowing to each of you in turn. “I expect everything has been to your liking this evening?”

You had learned the previous week that questions of this nature were directed solely at the master of the house while he was present, unless he expressly asked your opinion. He handed the glass to the valet. You remained silent. “See to it the room is put back to rights. We won’t be back in it tonight, but I have an early flight to Brazil  in the morning, so she’ll need to be escorted back for dressing after I leave.”

The small omnic bowed her head. “Yes, sir,” she said. You offered her a small smile and an encouraging hum. She straightened and disappeared into the room.

Maximilien motioned again to the two B.O.Bs, this time to follow behind as he led you to his room. They kept a protective distance, but it was far enough to still afford you some privacy.

“You’re going to Brazil tomorrow? Am I not coming along?” you asked.

“Not this time. I’m meeting with a regular contact about some funding for his tech company. Mundane, really. Besides, I think you’ve shown enough loyalty, I can give you a little longer of a leash now.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to Brazil,” you pouted. “I’ve seen such beautiful pictures.”

“I’ll take you with me sooner than you think, I promise.”

“And how am I supposed to take a man like you at your word?”

“Carnival. I’ll take you for a vacation. That gives you a specific, measured time frame,” he negotiated.

“That’s nearly eight months away!” you protested.

“And by then, you’ll be trained enough to fend for yourself instead of needing bodyguards around every corner,” the omnic countered, stopping in the hall and turning to face you. “The only ones in my organization who know who you are, what you look like, are Adeyemi and Akande, and for a good reason. They are the only two I trust not to take advantage of you for leverage against me. You now have a target on your back for anyone who considers me an enemy, whether seemingly an ally or not. I’m not risking you among the people my associate in Brazil works for, or any of my other colleagues, for that matter, until you know how to avoid becoming collateral.”

You both stood quietly for a moment. You’d never seen him get so worked up. You opened your mouth to respond, but stopped yourself. Now was not the time to call him out on his emotions. Instead, you perked up artificially and playfully nudged him, trying to get the mood back. “Okay, Max, that’s fair. Carnival it is.”

The walk to his room continued, and soon was over. The B.O.Bs took their places standing guard outside the double doors while you and Maximilien slipped inside. There was still a bit of an awkward air hanging thick. It was only your second time being in the room, and the first time you would be sleeping in it. Most nights he would simply fuck you in your room and then come back to his own.

You tried to look around the room to find something to spark up the conversation again. Your eyes stole to the new bed against the wall. Custom-made, circular, and absolutely massive, you had never seen anything quite like it. The other time you had been in here the bed had been expensive and lavish, but standard and much smaller, with his energy modulator on a small table off to the side. Now the energy modulator was nowhere to be seen, while the table was on the other side of the room, near where Max was unfastening his belt.

“New bed?” you cocked an eyebrow at your partner as he shrugged off his sport coat and hung it.

“I figured our activities in this room would require something larger and more robust than what I was completing my rest cycle on previously,” he explained.

Oh. That explains it. It’s a sex bed, you thought to yourself. You inhaled deeply, intrigued as you went over and sat on the edge, running your hands over the blankets. You still had a question you would like to have answered. “Max, if you don’t mind my asking, where is your energy modulator? You can’t just go without it.”

He continued undressing and chuckled incredulously at the question. “You really want to know everything there is to know about omnics, don’t you? Very well. My battery charger is on a panel that slides out from the bedframe near the pillows. And since I can already anticipate your next question, no, I don’t need to go through a rest cycle every night. In fact, I could go a fortnight between full cycles, but I prefer to run one every night for diagnostic purposes. The same associate who performs my . . . less legal modifications monitors what you humans would call health. She knows at a second if I’m not operating at tip-top shape and need a hardware or software adjustment.”

“So your secret friend is a she!” you teased, crossing your legs and letting them slip through the silk fabric of the robe.

“Again with you calling my associates ‘friends,’” the omnic sighed, sliding open a drawer in the table and producing a small remote control. “Although I would suppose she is more so than most,” he mused. “Let’s leave her at ‘acquaintance,’ shall we? Anyway to answer the final question I know you’re burning to ask, if I am at low energy, I can charge myself enough for a full day in as little as fifteen minutes, but that’s only in a low-power emergency, and is unsustainable for more than three days. After that, I would malfunction.”

“Well, at least there’s no risk of that right now,” you said coyly. “I’m sure you’re ready and raring to go.”

He glanced back at you, unimpressed with your lack of subtlety, but couldn’t help a twinge of pride stirring inside him at your boldness. It was enough for your current garments to seem all too much in the way at present and he quickly turned his attention back to the remote.

“My dear, I know how much you enjoy the current appendage I wear between my legs, but--” He paused for dramatic effect, pressing a button on the remote which opened an entire panel of the wall. “Perhaps you’d like to try something different tonight.”

You gasped, rising from the bed and joining Maximilien by the newly opened closet. Shelf upon shelf glowed with blue ultraviolet light, showcasing an impressive assortment of omnic cocks of every shape and size. He let you take your time ogling them, counting them, feeling the surfaces and hefting them to feel the weights. Most were made of the same smooth, panelled metal his usual piece was, simply varying in length and girth. The next section contained silicone members with a variety of textures on the surface and tips. The final group were made of glass. Curiously, you looked back at him.

“For temperature play, if you like. We can try out whichever one you want for tonight, and when I get back from Brazil, we can spend time exploring to find your favorites out of my collection.”

“Do they all--”

“Yes, they all ejaculate from the store inside my body, which reminds me . . .” he cut you off, turning back into the drawer. “I have more flavors available for you to choose from.”

You weren’t paying too much attention. Your eyes had fallen on the largest piece on the shelf, which seemed to both have the girth of a soda can and be the length of your forearm.

Maximilien followed your gaze. “Ah yes, that is one I have yet to get to with any partner. Up until now most of my sexual encounters have been one-night stands, and as you can probably tell, it takes a lot of training to be able to take that size. If you like it, we can probably get there someday.”

You were overwhelmed by all the choices available to you. You’d only had two different cocks inside you before. How were you supposed to tell what you might like? No way to know unless you try, you reminded yourself. You’re going to end up trying all of them eventually. Taking a deep breath, you turned to the standard metal pieces and selected one that looked noticeably longer than what you were used to with Maximilien.

“Nine inches is an excellent choice for our first experiment,” he praised, taking it from you and turning around to finish readying himself. “Go ahead and select a bottle from the drawer.”

Peering inside, you noticed about ten different flavors available to you, including the standard strawberry in a pink bottle. Next to it was a soft orange color, followed by a much more vibrant orange. You rolled the lighter-toned bottle between your fingers before nodding determinedly. “I would like to try peach flavor tonight,” you announced, setting it atop of the table while your partner placed his everyday eight-inch member on an empty shelf space. Something about his previous comments unsettled you.

He noticed your slightly concerned look. “There is nothing to worry about, my dear. The light sterilizes every piece completely, and you know how I dislike physical contaminants, so each is washed thoroughly once a week. I promise there is no danger to you.”

“It’s not that,” you bit your lip.

“Then what is it, my dear?”

You paused, unsure if the question would anger him, but ultimately decided you had to know. “You talk about them as if you use them regularly. How much use have these seen? H-how many sexual partners have you had before me?” you stuttered.

For a moment Max didn’t respond. He was confused at why that should matter. He bought you; surely you understood what that meant to him. But as he considered your uneasy features, a thought struck him that hadn’t before. Perhaps monogamy and its connotations were more emotionally important to common human females who weren’t in the business of selling their bodies to strangers. He wanted this arrangement to work between the two of you, and he thought the display of the bed would be enough to show that. But clearly the presentation of the closet full of devices to take your sexual relationship to the next level had jarred you away from thinking rationally. Or at least his own obvious show of considerable prior experience with them had. How curiously the human brain worked! He would just have to answer your questions and then express it to you in words.

“We have been together for two months now. In that time I have not engaged in sexual intercourse with anyone but you,” he began. “Before I obtained you, I would regularly travel with at least three of these pieces, in addition to my everyday appliance. I had made a habit of spending evenings off while away on business with various prostitutes in my bed, both human and omnic, mostly female and occasionally male. Sometimes I would seduce someone at a bar for what you humans call a one-night stand, and on occasion I have seduced patrons of my own casino. There are many partners I have seen multiple times, often calling on them while in their city on business. Sexual encounters for me occurred about twice a week. I have had a total of 27 partners before you. You are my 28th.”

You opened your mouth to say something, face having grown red with either anger or embarrassment. You couldn’t tell which.

Maximilien lifted a hand to silence you. After six years working as a servant, calming yourself at the gesture was involuntary and automatic. In this context, you hated it. But instead of allowing your anger to flare again, you took a deep breath and decided to hear him out.

He continued. “In all my years of existence, I’ve never committed to any single person. I’ve lived my life as a perpetual bachelor, never desiring monogamy -- until I met you. In the past two months I have made every effort to emulate a human relationship as best I can. You are my 28th sexual partner, but my first life partner. I must confess this is completely new territory for me, darling. I’d never shared a bed overnight with anyone until that first night we had together in Paris. I was hoping this new bed I had made for the two of us would express to you my efforts in making this arrangement into a relationship. But I suppose I must be more direct with my communication to that effect in the future?”

You didn’t reply.

“I can assure you, my dear, none of the objects in that closet hold any emotional value for me, nor do they represent attachments to previous sexual partners. They are tools only, and ones that are now free for you to use as you desire.”

You bit your lip. Holy fuck. I think I’m in love.

You took another deep breath. “Since you shared your sexual history with me, it is only fair I share mine. When I was nineteen, I began dating a shopkeeper near Antonio’s manor. I would often go to fetch ingredients for the cook, and over time the young man and I formed a connection. For my twentieth birthday, I gave him my virginity. We dated steadily for several months, until the day I found out he had broken into my parents’ shop and stolen several valuables. He had cheaply used me for information so he could make a quick stack.”

“How did you find out it was him?” the omnic asked.

“Since my family’s business was under Antonio’s protection, his men investigated the robbery and determined the culprit. I found out when Antonio himself brought me the shopkeep’s head to throw into the canal. No one betrays me and gets away with it.”

Maximilien’s eyes blazed. “Adeyemi is right about you. You will make an excellent assassin. But I do hope you realize the more you tell me about the late Mister Bartalotti, the more apparent to me it is that he was preparing you to become . . . his.”

You looked down. “That was the first incident where he showed me special treatment like that,” you confessed. After a moment you met the omnic’s gaze again. “I’m much happier living here, with you, than I ever was in Venice, even working in my family’s shop as a child. Thank you, Max.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad to hear that, Canary.” He reached and covered your hand with his own. “My internal clock is telling me it’s getting late, and I do have that flight to Brazil early in the morning.”

You rubbed your free hand over the back of his, a coy smile spreading across your face. “Then let’s not waste any more of our precious time talking . . .” you leaned down and kissed one of his gold rings, then looked up into his eyes through thick lashes. “ . . . Sir.”

Next chapter | All chapters

#maxie red or black #maximilien x reader #dark!overwatch #not work for safe #sex work mention #decapitation mention #DICKS DICKS EVERYWHERE #fem reader/pronouns

[trendingnewsb]

4 Lazy Character Shortcuts Hollywood Can’t Stop Using

The best movie characters are usually the ones whom we sort of identify with. Whether they’re a simple middle-class teenager or a grizzled Matthew McConaughy playing a nihilistic detective trying to find aliens from the future inside a black hole, they work because when they make decisions, we get it. We learn who they are and understand them. Sometimes, though, writers don’t really have time for that shit. Instead, they use some kind of shorthand which (they hope) will have the same profound effect with far less effort. This usually doesn’t work at all. Particularly when …

4

Sudden Sacrifices Are A Substitute For Heroism

What is more powerful than one human being sacrificing their own life to save others, usually to the accompaniment of an orchestra that sounds like it’s about to parade through the screen? You could probably base a whole religion around it. In the world of Hollywood screenwriting, sacrifices can also be written in not to provide a satisfying end to a character’s arc, but to add instant heroism to a character we barely know.

Read Next

Why We Can't Take Our Eyes Off The Things We Hate

Kong: Skull Island (which I think is a great movie) includes a bunch of dispensable soldier characters who are tailor-made to be ape food. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m a fan of slasher films, so I have an appreciation for characters who only exist to say “Hey, guys, what was that noise?” But then, while under an assault from mutant reptiles, one of the soldiers, Captain Cole, pulls out two grenades and stares down one of the beasts. The rest of the cast does the typical “NO! DON’T DO THIS!” thing, like the audience is expected to. No, don’t do it, guy with literally two personality traits.

The guy’s plan goes awry and he ends up being a bloodstain on the side of a cliff, but that’s beside the point. The point is … well, what is the point? The sacrifice doesn’t add a dimension to his character, nor does it say anything poignant about him. Instead, it just makes him look like he’s very bad at thinking through decisions. You’re stranded on an island with a monster ape and ubiquitous leviathans, and your plan is to waste yourself and two precious grenades with your patented “Stand there and hope” maneuver?

Of course, they also did this with Superman at the end of Batman v Superman, in a Hail Mary effort to give us some reason to care. They did the same in I Am Legend, in which Will Smith sacrifices himself to maybe blow up some of the zombies, which is such a pointless act that the director’s cut has Will Smith not do that.

And remember Chappie, that Black Mirror episode, but with more decapitations? At the end of that, Ninja — played by Ninja of the rap group Die Antwoord — tries to sacrifice himself in dramatic slow motion, as if the movie is under the impression that we liked his character. He just spent two hours cursing and emotionally abusing a childlike robot. Sacrifice away, idiot.

If they want us to care, they need to scroll backward a few dozen pages in the script and write the character as someone we’ll either be sad to see go or happy to see redeemed. Oh, and the character needs to stay dead.

3

Making A Character Suddenly Badass (In A Way That Makes No Sense)

There’s nothing better than when a badass character gets a badass payoff. My boys in the Dragon Ball franchise are constantly training so that when the time comes, they can triumphantly punch holes through people. This is immensely satisfying because you, the viewer, get to anticipate seeing them use their skills. There is build-up. So it’s baffling whenever “badass” characters either get that way out of nowhere, or are assigned badass traits that don’t fit their progression at all, like if The Karate Kid ended with Daniel challenging Johnny to a snowmobile race.

Take Arya Stark in Game Of Thrones. A big point is made that she’s not built for swordplay. Her cranky travel companion Sandor Clegane points out that her tiny frame and flimsy sword is useless in a gritty fantasy universe full of giant men in armor. Thus, she learns how to work with poisons and magic disguises, leading us to believe that she’ll be pulling off some rad espionage tactics to fool bad guys who could crush her skull like an egg. Instead, within a couple of seasons, Arya becomes Jason Bourne Lite, shrugging off stabbings and doing sweet parkour. Later, she faces off in a practice duel with giant sword master Brienne and outmaneuvers her easily, smirking the whole time.

Regardless of the fact that she is never shown acquiring that level of skill, the problem is that this character is now superhuman and is in no way someone you can identify with.

Writers can’t resist this, even when a lack of combat training is the entire point of a character. This happens in the recent Death Wish remake, in which Bruce Willis, a surgeon, suddenly becomes a mix of Jigsaw and Rambo, all because he lost his family … and he’s a surgeon? This movie had a lot of problems, but at the very least, it could’ve made sense. I can’t claim to know what they teach you at medical school, but I sincerely doubt it involves target practice. I mean, not yet, anyway. But they couldn’t think of any other way to have him beat the bad guys.

And look, I love Harry Potter‘s Neville Longbottom, but the whole point of him is that he’s a clumsy, nerdy boob. He continues to be that for the first seven and a half movies, until his arc completes with him … cutting a giant snake’s head off in slow motion with a sword? Why? At no point in the series are we clamoring for Neville to be the guy who decapitates magic serpents. He’s shown as having talents — specifically, using magical plants — but all of that goes out the window because in the end, being a hero only means being great with traditional fighting techniques.

I’m not saying that Neville should’ve been watering the shrubs while Voldemort was attacking, but maybe give us something more in line with his character. He can be cool without being Conan. Hell, Breaking Bad spent its whole run inventing ways for a sickly chemistry teacher to defeat drug lords who are stronger and more well-armed than he is. They didn’t simply make him suddenly good at ninjutsu.

2

Gritty “Realism” Is Conveyed Through Ceaseless Cursing

People curse in real life. They do it in the car, they do it in the bedroom, they do it when they’re in line at Gamestop and GODDAMN, RICHARD, THE TRADE-IN VALUES ARE NOT GONNA BE THAT GOOD NO MATTER HOW MANY “PRO” POINTS YOU HAVE, SO GET THE FUCK ON WITH IT, SHITLIZARD. But since lots of movies are shooting for PG-13 and network TV shows usually try to be family friendly, they have to keep it clean. When creators find themselves without those restrictions, they tend to go hog-wild.

So I get it, prestige TV dramas. You get to put on your HBO/Showtime Big Boy Pants, and you naturally want to curse a lot because Mom and Dad aren’t around to tell you no. But do so many characters absolutely need to do it like they’re auditioning for a Rob Zombie film? For example, the sister character Debra is the heart and soul of Dexter, considering the show reminds you at all times that the titular character lacks a heart and soul. But there are ways to illustrate that she’s deep and troubled other than peppering all of her dialogue with curses that make her sound as if she’s just discovered Urban Dictionary. You know, like actually giving her an important role on the show? That’s just my two cents.

It comes up in Game Of Thrones, which desperately wants to be Definitely Not Lord Of The Rings, and Boardwalk Empire, which desperately wanted to be Definitely Not The Godfather, or Deadwood, which desperately wanted to be Definitely Not Renewed For A Fourth Season. I love you, Deadwood. I live and breathe you, Deadwood. But holy shit, it’s hard to market a cowboy show, much less a cowboy show that constantly plays like a Greek tragedy and includes an errant dropping of “fuck” every six seconds.

Compare that (again) to a show like Breaking Bad, which was only allowed one or two F-words per season. When they come, they actually have impact. When Skyler reveals to Walter that she’s sleeping with her boss, it’s “I fucked Ted.” Not “I’ve been messing around with Ted,” or “I let Ted play on my slippery dulcimer, if ya’ know what I mean.” It’s a gut punch. The fact that, realistically, she’d probably say it that way is just icing on the cake.

Some of you might say that these shows use gratuitous nudity in exactly the same way (that is, because they can), but at least beautiful naked people is a selling point. Who’s out there saying, “Man, I’m not crazy about the plot of that show, but some of the cursing is amazing. It gave me a full erection.”

1

Geeky Characters Are Defined Only By Their Ability To Spout Pop Culture References

A lot of people in the world are geeks. Not me. I only talk about Digimon when I’m drunk. But a lot of people are. And you’d think that since “geeky” interests are so commonplace, we’d get more great geeky characters in pop culture. Characters that we see aspects of ourselves in. Sadly, what we do get are shows like Big Bang Theory, or characters like Steve Urkel from Family Matters, Ross Gellar from Friends, Morgan from Chuck, Noah from the Scream TV show, and about 75 percent of the denizens of Kevin Smith movies. These are characters who don’t make geekiness look fun. Instead, they drag it around like a cross, burdened by their own existence.

I would probably relate to more “geeky” film characters if the writers knew how to identify them as geeks without having them bleat like farm animals about Star Wars or Dungeons & Dragons. Either that or they’re like Spencer from Criminal Minds, who refuses to shut up about how his special, powerful, super computer brain works differently from the average brain. He’s supposed to be likable, but I’ve never met a single likable person who went into detail about how much smarter he or she is than most of the population.

It’s like they’re so afraid that we won’t get it unless they crank it up to cartoonish levels. The “funny” control room employee in Jurassic World wears a Jurassic Park shirt with the original movie’s logo on it. That’s great! It builds his character and it adds to the theme of the movie that you probably shouldn’t recklessly commodify prehistoric beasts. But he then explains why he wears that shirt and how much it costs and how much he loved the first Jurassic Park, and any chance we had of identifying with him goes out the window. If I buy a Spider-Man shirt, I don’t go around the mall asking people about their favorite Doctor Octopus moments; I just wear the shirt.

It’s so strange because you’d assume that most writers are themselves geeks, the ones who have to borrow clothes to attend a red carpet premiere and then are kept far away from the cameras. You have to imagine them toiling away on their sitcom pilot thinking, “Hmmm … what would a geek say in this situation? It’s so hard for a cool, sexy beast like me to put myself in their mindset. I know, I’ll have them suddenly speak Klingon.”

Daniel has a Twitter, which he uses as a platform to yell about Pokemon.

Write your own characters’ longcuts with a beginner’s guide to Celtx.

Support Cracked’s journalism with a visit to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you.

For more Hollywood hacks, check out Lazy Hollywood Shortcuts, Explained With Diagrams and 22 Movie Cliches That Just Won’t Die.

Following us on Facebook is an instant +12 to Nerd Cred.

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/blog/4-lazy-character-shortcuts-hollywood-cant-stop-using/

from Viral News HQ https://ift.tt/2HMsLeW via Viral News HQ

#IFTTT #Viral News HQ

[trendingnewsb]

4 Lazy Character Shortcuts Hollywood Can’t Stop Using

The best movie characters are usually the ones whom we sort of identify with. Whether they’re a simple middle-class teenager or a grizzled Matthew McConaughy playing a nihilistic detective trying to find aliens from the future inside a black hole, they work because when they make decisions, we get it. We learn who they are and understand them. Sometimes, though, writers don’t really have time for that shit. Instead, they use some kind of shorthand which (they hope) will have the same profound effect with far less effort. This usually doesn’t work at all. Particularly when …

4

Sudden Sacrifices Are A Substitute For Heroism

What is more powerful than one human being sacrificing their own life to save others, usually to the accompaniment of an orchestra that sounds like it’s about to parade through the screen? You could probably base a whole religion around it. In the world of Hollywood screenwriting, sacrifices can also be written in not to provide a satisfying end to a character’s arc, but to add instant heroism to a character we barely know.

Read Next

Why We Can't Take Our Eyes Off The Things We Hate

Kong: Skull Island (which I think is a great movie) includes a bunch of dispensable soldier characters who are tailor-made to be ape food. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m a fan of slasher films, so I have an appreciation for characters who only exist to say “Hey, guys, what was that noise?” But then, while under an assault from mutant reptiles, one of the soldiers, Captain Cole, pulls out two grenades and stares down one of the beasts. The rest of the cast does the typical “NO! DON’T DO THIS!” thing, like the audience is expected to. No, don’t do it, guy with literally two personality traits.

The guy’s plan goes awry and he ends up being a bloodstain on the side of a cliff, but that’s beside the point. The point is … well, what is the point? The sacrifice doesn’t add a dimension to his character, nor does it say anything poignant about him. Instead, it just makes him look like he’s very bad at thinking through decisions. You’re stranded on an island with a monster ape and ubiquitous leviathans, and your plan is to waste yourself and two precious grenades with your patented “Stand there and hope” maneuver?

Of course, they also did this with Superman at the end of Batman v Superman, in a Hail Mary effort to give us some reason to care. They did the same in I Am Legend, in which Will Smith sacrifices himself to maybe blow up some of the zombies, which is such a pointless act that the director’s cut has Will Smith not do that.

And remember Chappie, that Black Mirror episode, but with more decapitations? At the end of that, Ninja — played by Ninja of the rap group Die Antwoord — tries to sacrifice himself in dramatic slow motion, as if the movie is under the impression that we liked his character. He just spent two hours cursing and emotionally abusing a childlike robot. Sacrifice away, idiot.

If they want us to care, they need to scroll backward a few dozen pages in the script and write the character as someone we’ll either be sad to see go or happy to see redeemed. Oh, and the character needs to stay dead.

3

Making A Character Suddenly Badass (In A Way That Makes No Sense)

There’s nothing better than when a badass character gets a badass payoff. My boys in the Dragon Ball franchise are constantly training so that when the time comes, they can triumphantly punch holes through people. This is immensely satisfying because you, the viewer, get to anticipate seeing them use their skills. There is build-up. So it’s baffling whenever “badass” characters either get that way out of nowhere, or are assigned badass traits that don’t fit their progression at all, like if The Karate Kid ended with Daniel challenging Johnny to a snowmobile race.

Take Arya Stark in Game Of Thrones. A big point is made that she’s not built for swordplay. Her cranky travel companion Sandor Clegane points out that her tiny frame and flimsy sword is useless in a gritty fantasy universe full of giant men in armor. Thus, she learns how to work with poisons and magic disguises, leading us to believe that she’ll be pulling off some rad espionage tactics to fool bad guys who could crush her skull like an egg. Instead, within a couple of seasons, Arya becomes Jason Bourne Lite, shrugging off stabbings and doing sweet parkour. Later, she faces off in a practice duel with giant sword master Brienne and outmaneuvers her easily, smirking the whole time.

Regardless of the fact that she is never shown acquiring that level of skill, the problem is that this character is now superhuman and is in no way someone you can identify with.

Writers can’t resist this, even when a lack of combat training is the entire point of a character. This happens in the recent Death Wish remake, in which Bruce Willis, a surgeon, suddenly becomes a mix of Jigsaw and Rambo, all because he lost his family … and he’s a surgeon? This movie had a lot of problems, but at the very least, it could’ve made sense. I can’t claim to know what they teach you at medical school, but I sincerely doubt it involves target practice. I mean, not yet, anyway. But they couldn’t think of any other way to have him beat the bad guys.

And look, I love Harry Potter‘s Neville Longbottom, but the whole point of him is that he’s a clumsy, nerdy boob. He continues to be that for the first seven and a half movies, until his arc completes with him … cutting a giant snake’s head off in slow motion with a sword? Why? At no point in the series are we clamoring for Neville to be the guy who decapitates magic serpents. He’s shown as having talents — specifically, using magical plants — but all of that goes out the window because in the end, being a hero only means being great with traditional fighting techniques.

I’m not saying that Neville should’ve been watering the shrubs while Voldemort was attacking, but maybe give us something more in line with his character. He can be cool without being Conan. Hell, Breaking Bad spent its whole run inventing ways for a sickly chemistry teacher to defeat drug lords who are stronger and more well-armed than he is. They didn’t simply make him suddenly good at ninjutsu.

2

Gritty “Realism” Is Conveyed Through Ceaseless Cursing

People curse in real life. They do it in the car, they do it in the bedroom, they do it when they’re in line at Gamestop and GODDAMN, RICHARD, THE TRADE-IN VALUES ARE NOT GONNA BE THAT GOOD NO MATTER HOW MANY “PRO” POINTS YOU HAVE, SO GET THE FUCK ON WITH IT, SHITLIZARD. But since lots of movies are shooting for PG-13 and network TV shows usually try to be family friendly, they have to keep it clean. When creators find themselves without those restrictions, they tend to go hog-wild.

So I get it, prestige TV dramas. You get to put on your HBO/Showtime Big Boy Pants, and you naturally want to curse a lot because Mom and Dad aren’t around to tell you no. But do so many characters absolutely need to do it like they’re auditioning for a Rob Zombie film? For example, the sister character Debra is the heart and soul of Dexter, considering the show reminds you at all times that the titular character lacks a heart and soul. But there are ways to illustrate that she’s deep and troubled other than peppering all of her dialogue with curses that make her sound as if she’s just discovered Urban Dictionary. You know, like actually giving her an important role on the show? That’s just my two cents.

It comes up in Game Of Thrones, which desperately wants to be Definitely Not Lord Of The Rings, and Boardwalk Empire, which desperately wanted to be Definitely Not The Godfather, or Deadwood, which desperately wanted to be Definitely Not Renewed For A Fourth Season. I love you, Deadwood. I live and breathe you, Deadwood. But holy shit, it’s hard to market a cowboy show, much less a cowboy show that constantly plays like a Greek tragedy and includes an errant dropping of “fuck” every six seconds.

Compare that (again) to a show like Breaking Bad, which was only allowed one or two F-words per season. When they come, they actually have impact. When Skyler reveals to Walter that she’s sleeping with her boss, it’s “I fucked Ted.” Not “I’ve been messing around with Ted,” or “I let Ted play on my slippery dulcimer, if ya’ know what I mean.” It’s a gut punch. The fact that, realistically, she’d probably say it that way is just icing on the cake.

Some of you might say that these shows use gratuitous nudity in exactly the same way (that is, because they can), but at least beautiful naked people is a selling point. Who’s out there saying, “Man, I’m not crazy about the plot of that show, but some of the cursing is amazing. It gave me a full erection.”

1

Geeky Characters Are Defined Only By Their Ability To Spout Pop Culture References

A lot of people in the world are geeks. Not me. I only talk about Digimon when I’m drunk. But a lot of people are. And you’d think that since “geeky” interests are so commonplace, we’d get more great geeky characters in pop culture. Characters that we see aspects of ourselves in. Sadly, what we do get are shows like Big Bang Theory, or characters like Steve Urkel from Family Matters, Ross Gellar from Friends, Morgan from Chuck, Noah from the Scream TV show, and about 75 percent of the denizens of Kevin Smith movies. These are characters who don’t make geekiness look fun. Instead, they drag it around like a cross, burdened by their own existence.

I would probably relate to more “geeky” film characters if the writers knew how to identify them as geeks without having them bleat like farm animals about Star Wars or Dungeons & Dragons. Either that or they’re like Spencer from Criminal Minds, who refuses to shut up about how his special, powerful, super computer brain works differently from the average brain. He’s supposed to be likable, but I’ve never met a single likable person who went into detail about how much smarter he or she is than most of the population.

It’s like they’re so afraid that we won’t get it unless they crank it up to cartoonish levels. The “funny” control room employee in Jurassic World wears a Jurassic Park shirt with the original movie’s logo on it. That’s great! It builds his character and it adds to the theme of the movie that you probably shouldn’t recklessly commodify prehistoric beasts. But he then explains why he wears that shirt and how much it costs and how much he loved the first Jurassic Park, and any chance we had of identifying with him goes out the window. If I buy a Spider-Man shirt, I don’t go around the mall asking people about their favorite Doctor Octopus moments; I just wear the shirt.

It’s so strange because you’d assume that most writers are themselves geeks, the ones who have to borrow clothes to attend a red carpet premiere and then are kept far away from the cameras. You have to imagine them toiling away on their sitcom pilot thinking, “Hmmm … what would a geek say in this situation? It’s so hard for a cool, sexy beast like me to put myself in their mindset. I know, I’ll have them suddenly speak Klingon.”

Daniel has a Twitter, which he uses as a platform to yell about Pokemon.

Write your own characters’ longcuts with a beginner’s guide to Celtx.

Support Cracked’s journalism with a visit to our Contribution Page. Please and thank you.

For more Hollywood hacks, check out Lazy Hollywood Shortcuts, Explained With Diagrams and 22 Movie Cliches That Just Won’t Die.

Following us on Facebook is an instant +12 to Nerd Cred.

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/blog/4-lazy-character-shortcuts-hollywood-cant-stop-using/

from Viral News HQ https://ift.tt/2HMsLeW via Viral News HQ

#IFTTT #Viral News HQ