Ik you JUST posted it but will you please continue on the vampire soap whenever you can😞🙏I loved it
ugh you’ve twisted my arm
how you meet vampire!soap
He can’t keep his eyes off of you, and he isn’t good at hiding it. Stuffed in the corner of the pub at a table with three other men, his eyes are on you. You’d tell him to fuck off if he wasn’t cute. And if he hadn’t been sending you drinks all night.
Through the haze of your third (fourth?) espresso martini, you don’t try to hide your ogling. There’s a glow to him, light bouncing off of his skin and drawing you in. Despite his ridiculous haircut, he’s remarkably handsome— strikingly so. If he looks this good in a dark pub, you dare to wonder how he looks in the sun… if that skin becomes sunkissed when summer finally comes.
You’re too busy memorizing the way that his cheeks plump up when he smiles
Your friends get bored of the stolen glances. They tell the bartender to send him a drink on your tab. Send him a pint, guys like that! The bartender tries to convince you to not send over a drink. Dumbly, you trust your friends.
The pint lands on his table and you see his mates chuckle and tease him. You watch with fearful eyes until he slides the pint to one of his mates— a hairy fellow with unusual facial hair. A pit might as well have opened up and swallowed you whole.
Your friends go silent and start apologizing to you. You’re too busy waving them off to notice the figure approaching you. At least, until a throat clears behind you.
It’s him. His eyes are so blue up close.
“Thank ye for the pint,” he says. He’s scottish. Nice. “But I think I’ve had my fill for tonight.” He waves at the bartender behind you, a friendly smile on his face. He has a set of impressive pearly whites, accentuated by extended canines. You lean in to get a closer look. You’ve never seen canines like his before.
A friend taps your shoulder. “Night, hon,” she says with a smile. You throw her a goodbye and catch a look at your other friends. They’re positively geeked, giggling and giving you thumbs ups. Johnny seems to notice, but doesn’t mind. He’s smirking, though it’s more to conceal his amusement than cockiness.
You tell Johnny your name. He repeats it, the sound of each vowel rolling off his tongue like a melody. His lips are so red. You want to run a thumb over them. They’re stained, the alabaster skin around his lips smudged to a just-kissed pink. Funny, you think. Not a lot of men like him spend their nights drinking wine in pubs.
“You have plans tonight?” You ask. His face falls, and in an instant you feel stupid for even asking. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be forward—“
“No, no,” he croons. “I have plans in the morning. I’d have to leave you before sunrise.”
“It’s fine if you don’t want to—“
He doesn’t let you finish, pulling you in for a kiss. He tastes heavy, like petrichor bottled up into a man. You groan into his mouth, he takes the chance and slips his tongue deeper.
A few people clear their throats around you. You should feel insecure, you want to, but you can’t find it in you to pay attention to anything that dares to not be him. Johnny nips your lips before pulling away.
“Trust me, bonnie,” Johnny says. “I want to. But I want to do it right.”
“Do it right,” you nod dumbly. Your lips still sting where he had dug in. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”
Johnny chuckles. The sound of it is deep and smooth and goes straight to your core. “Be here tomorrow at five, yeah?”
A girlish smile pulls at your lips. “I’ll see you then.”
