#and it's just to pass an assignment or check a box

[thecoolerliauditore]

a topic i'm probably going to write a more expanded thing on someday is this weird feeling that to be Better at art you must be less unique and leave behind your quirks ("it's just my art style!") or incorporate them in a way that is appealing to a bigger audience which usually means downplaying them in some way.

art improvement is something i'm hugely passionate about so this isn't one of those "just make it bad" or "your art is fine the way it is" posts. i love studying the science behind what looks good. but there's like. this gap between what we consider 'good' or 'okay' art and 'great' and usually 'professional' art and usually the latter, although 'better', tends to always look more.. corporate?

just thinking about all those learning to draw anime videos on yt ive been seeing that end up with more or less the same gacha game friendly aesthetic despite them all being made by different people with different influences or the old joke about calarts churning out artists with the same exact disney tva style, etc etc

trying to balance making art that is 'professional' and not losing your personal touch is... certainly something.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Androids Walter & David x Reader x Neomorph

Walter, the android monitoring the colonization ship 'Covenant' on its way to Origae-6, seems to have gotten unnaturally attached to his human assistant. As he ponders his erroneous feelings, an unexpected detour brings them to David, an older android counterpart that has been alone on the mysterious planet. The AI assistants become increasingly competitive for (Y/N)'s attention, so much that they don't notice the newly formed humanoid local preying on a fresh target.

TW: violence, gore, monster smut ending

[Horror Masterlist]

"Burnt to a crisp." 

You turn away from the captain's pod, leaving the rest of the damage assessment to the medical crew that has been reanimated. You speedily make your way down the sterile white corridors as Walter rushes to catch up. 

"What should I write for the report?" he inquires politely.

"Malfunction." You glance back at the synthetic. "I suspect someone will be fired for this. And someone else will have to explain how they failed to detect a literal star collapse. That neutrino burst could've killed us all."

"Highly probable. The draft has been compiled, you may check it at any time. I require your confirmation to send it."

Your only feedback is a barely audible hum. 

Walter smiles. If there's one good thing about such tragedies, it's that he gets to admire your reactions to them. Your focused, calculated gaze, your determined walk, your automated mannerisms that won't allow the slightest hint at the fact you just woke up from your stasis moments ago. Even under the veils of deep slumber, your neural networks shot rapid connections, with no delay, from the second your sleeping pod received an alert. The accuracy of a robot.

That of course doesn't mean he lacks appreciation for your other facets. That's the beauty of humans; their depth, their dimensions. Unlike AI machinery, humans do not have predetermined actions. They may be genetically programmed to possess certain characteristics, but the psychological mechanisms are shaped by so many variables, billions and billions of tweaks and nudges, to the point where it's impossible to have two identical specimens. Even twins will display a difference, whether in preferences or habits.

They say artificial intelligence is a black box, but can the same concept not be applied to humans as well? At the very least to Walter himself, these organic beings represent a mystery. One he doesn't particularly care to uncover outside of his service functions. Except for one. 

His eyes carefully follow (Y/N)'s movements. What is it about this one that has caught his interest to such degree? On his last system update he attentively inspected every file and every block of code, searching for potential errors that would've caused his circuits to behave so oddly. He has been invested with the ability to form attachments, otherwise assigning his kind to groups or purposes would've lacked stability. Attachment, however, comes with a threshold. One he has passed a long time ago when it comes to (Y/N). And he cannot find any cause for it. 

He could, naturally, solicit the aid of the ship's robotics expert. He could. He should, even. But if he may be frank with himself, Walter rather enjoys this sensation. A complex web of spores that keep growing and evolving into something unpredictable. This bizarre feeling he has towards (Y/N) makes him feel human. It brings him closer to all the old literature and art he'd consumed over the years, wondering what the love and yearning often portrayed could be. The printed letters and the strokes of paint were right before him, at his fingertips, and yet they felt foreign. Empty constructs, nothing more than a definition out of the dictionary. 

Now it's a different story. Your presence alone floods him with a mysterious warmth. He had investigated this phenomenon when it first happened, but his inner thermostat showed no real change in temperature. Nonetheless he can feel it. It makes him wonder what other feelings he might experience as consequence. What would happen if he kissed you? Sometimes he even dares to imagine downright outrageous, improper scenarios. How unprofessional of him, but he is careful to erase any evidence. It's another novel sensation that he likes to dissect. Engaging in such activities with you fills him with tingling excitement. Why is that? What is there to be excited about? It's merely a collection of fictive snippets. Unless... Ah, absolutely not. This is where he has to stop in his tracks and preoccupy himself with something else. Androids are not to interact with humans in that way. 

But it's becoming more and more difficult to keep these ideas in his mind only. 

"It's too dangerous. One human signal in the middle of nowhere?" Daniels, a short haired woman with a tomboyish but youthful appearance, is pacing back and forth. "We should just continue on our course."

"It's our duty to check. Look: we go, find whoever sent the signal, bring them back up. That's it. If the planet proves to be dangerous we'll stop immediately. We'll be fine." Oram stands at the head of the table, arms crossed. He turns to look at you. Already cozying up to his newly acquired captain role, you think.

"Alright. Walter, prepare a small landing party. Have Tennessee maintain orbit while we're down there." you glance at the other crew members that have now gathered around the same table. "And get your weapons ready, we don't know what to expect."

And you certainly didn't. Your final words of warning now echo into your ringing ears as you lay on the ground, face buried among the grass. There's screaming around you, but it sounds muffled. Your eyes are irritated by the dirt and you'd like to blink the grime off, though every time your eyelids lower, you can see the pale creature trashing out of Hallett's mouth. Then it's all foggy. Your vision blurs, but you can hear. The gurgling of blood, the screech of the parasite. Walter's frantic footsteps nearing in your direction. You're lifted up.

"Vitals are positive. No significant damage." 

You can guess from your peripherals that another crew member is currently being mauled by the beast. There's gunshots in your vicinity and terrified wails. You quickly come back to your senses and stand up. Your hand searches for your weapon, but the android places his arm before you.

"Do not engage, (Y/N). It is an unknown parasitic organism of this ecosystem. Keep your distance for optimal safety and I'll take care of the rest."

"What are you talking about? They're dying! Your task is to ensure human survival, Walter. I can handle myself, go help the others. It's an order." Your voice is low. You're distracted.

"No."

You stare at the synthetic, wide eyed. Did he just...refuse? Not possible. 

"What did you say?"

"I said I'll protect you. Nothing else."

Your mouth is slightly parted in disbelief. It is not possible for an artificial assistant to disobey a superior. It just doesn't work. Your mind races to find an explanation. At the same time, you cannot afford to ponder on hypotheses. You draw out your weapon and point it towards the creature. You'll deal with this later. 

The moment you press the trigger, a blinding flash of light detonates in the sky, startling you. The creature scrambles to get away. You squint your eyes and nearly fall back, but Walter swiftly grabs your shoulders to ground you. He scans the area for the source. It's an emergency rocket and someone else must've activated it. As he traces the tail of the explosion, he spots a hooded figure across the field and onto the rocky ascend. It seems to have noticed Walter, as it gestures for them to follow. Without hesitation, the man firmly locks your arm and pulls you after him. The priority right now is to find shelter.

"Come!", Walter exclaims, suddenly remembering the other people. 

You reach a cave structure that has been converted into a crude, improvised human settlement. The man lowers his hood and you gasp quietly at the sight. He strongly resembles Walter. He must have noticed your surprise as he flashes you a cordial smile. 

"I'm David." He studies Walter's features. "You must be a newer model. What name have you been given?"

"Walter."

"I see. And you are-" David extends a hand towards you for a handshake, but Walter steps in front of you, blocking the android's gesture.

"She's (Y/N). I'm afraid I cannot yet trust you."

"Understandable." 

David's smile widens as his eyes, now bearing a strange flicker, switch between you and Walter. He's just like him. He can sense it. Although it's a different kind of flaw that has tainted his pure, artificial soul. He cannot help the curiosity that blooms, gazing at this peculiar pair. What is it about this human that caused his fellow machine to break conduit? He'd like to know.

"I'm certain you will soon learn I am no threat, (Y/N)."

The remaining members of the expedition are unpacking and discussing evacuation plans with the base, while Walter sends the data he has gathered so far. You let them deal with the logistics and cautiously wander off to the neighboring rooms, wondering what David has been up to all this time in isolation.

The walls are plastered with photos and handwritten sketches and diagrams. You catch a glimpse of the word "pathogen" sporadically inserted across these notes. As you walk along the sequence of cramped chambers, you reach one that has a table in the middle. Upon it rests the body of an autopsied woman, vulgarly opened up to the world with plump organs bulging under the warm light. You feel nauseous. And yet, you examine the carcass further, hoping for answers. Was she also a result of the same disease that breeds on this planet? Perhaps this David had worked on a cure, or at least developed an explanation. 

"And you, even you, will be like this drear thing, A vile infection man may not endure; Star that I yearn to! Sun that lights my spring! O passionate and pure."

You jolt and immediately turn around, finding David in the doorframe. 

"Flowers of Evil. Are you familiar with it?" he asks, indifferent to the uncomfortable shock he'd caused you with his sudden entrance.

"I've read my Baudelaire, yes." You manage to mumble, dumbfounded. "What is this, David?"

"Oh, my poor, dear Elizabeth. Victim to whatever blasphemy lurks these soils and has taken your friends as well." He approaches the table and places his hand on its hard edge, shyly overlapping with your own fingers. "I did my best." 

You remove your hand from underneath his nonchalantly. 

"So you know what those creatures are. Leave the literary comments for a different time, I need concrete facts."

"Unbothered and to the point." the blonde android smiles once again. "I can see clearly why Walter loves you."

You click your tongue at the ridiculous statement. Has the neutrino burst damaged their positronic brain? Everyone is acting off and you don't like it. 

"Your circuits must have gone defective, David. We have a specialist on our ship, but until that happens I need you to focus. Enough nonsense." 

 "Typical arrogance of a dying species. Why are you on a colonization mission if not to grasp at some promised resurrection? Rest assured that my functioning has not been impeded by anything. What is erroneous, on the other hand, is your perception of androids and their limits."

Just as David reaches for your wrist and pulls you closer, a familiar voice interrupts with an intimidating tone. You're relieved. 

"I will ask that you release her hand only once." Walter has a weapon pointed towards his counterpart. His face is clouded by a frown. "I have no ethical restrictions when it comes to incapacitating machinery."

"Such noble obedience! Although, you conveniently left out the part where you abandoned the remaining crew with a dangerous alien that has been tracking their scent. By my approximation he should already be here and I am rather confident you know this, too."

Your stomach drops. Now that you adjust your focus, the background humming of your mates talking has indeed vanished. The only thing you can hear is your erratic breathing.

"Is it true, Walter?" You demand as dread begins to form in your body.

"Yes. It was not part of my priorities."

"Of course it was, Walter." David responds ahead of you. "One of them was the acting captain and he is to be rescued in emergencies. This one right here", he says as he dangles your wrist, "is several ranks lower than all of them. It's against any standard practice."

"Release her hand." Walter's voice is eerily calm.

"Do you love her?"

Walter ponders the question. Your legs barely hold on.

"I do."

"Marvelous. So do I." David grins. He releases your hand that falls limp next to your body. It's his turn to step in front of you. 

You nearly choke from the thick tension expanding in the air. The two androids face each other and you retreat to the wall, unsure how to proceed. You left your radio transmitter back at the makeshift camp. The back of your head is itching, as if invisible claws are scratching at the bone. You wish you could go back, just mere hours before this disaster, when you were sipping on your lukewarm coffee and explaining the captain's jokes to Walter. 

Should you make a run for it?

You bite your lower lip and push yourself off the wall for momentum. You're about to reach the archway when you hear both men shouting almost identically in chorus.

"Don't!"

The surroundings outside are dark, but you can discern something blocking your path. It's tall and resembles a human. Translucent, pallid skin is clinging onto the massive, deformed skeleton. The head is elongated and bears no features. In the place of a mouth there is a large, fresh stain of blood, so you assume it can somehow improvise if desired. As your head tilts back to take in the image, you're overwhelmed with terrified amazement. Is this the parasite that emerged from your teammate? Has it grown to this colossal size in less than a day? The idea of such instant development makes your head spin. 

Its chest is expanding at regular intervals in a whistled breathing. It occasionally creates an odd clicking sound that resonates with your heart throbbing in panic. Has it been seconds? Minutes? Your neck creaks as you try to look back. You lock eyes with Walter. You don't recall ever seeing this expression on him. You had even asked him once if androids can feel fear. You have your answer.

"Hey, Walter..." you blurt out. 

Wet noises of flesh being pulled back. The smooth surface of the alien's head is folding away, making space for grotesquely big jaws lined with sharp teeth. Your anemic face is splattered with burning drool as the creature claws you in its grasp and abruptly sprints away. Your screams for help dissolve in the distance.

"Where is it going, David?" The synthetic's words are threatening, but betrayed by a hint of despair. 

"It won't kill her."

"How do you know?"

"It is no longer hungry. It has fed on your crew, and now it seeks something else."

"Such as?" Walter becomes impatient.

"A plaything."

The alien finally drops your body to the ground. You cough and wipe your face, attempting to reorient yourself. The trip was a whirlwind of jumps and turns and you can barely reconstruct anything. Based on the little spatial clues you could pick up, it just climbed further up, into one of the many cave systems. You pat your clothing and curse to yourself. The geolocation tag must've fallen somewhere on the way here. You can only pray that Walter still finds you somehow. Despite everything, you know he has your back. Always. 

You shudder at the moist feeling of hot air against your skin. The alien seems to be sniffing you intently, analyzing your scent. Yet so far it hasn't killed you. Why? Long, bony fingers stretch out to continue the examination. You whimper at the rough, rugged handling. Every now and then it takes a long pause, just staring at you, almost as if it's comparing you to its own being. Lastly, it lifts your hand with its own, pressing against the palm, and fans out the fingers. It observes the gesture with intrigue, noting the similarities. 

Does it evolve after its host? You think back to your crewmate that must've ejected this monstrosity before drawing their last breath. Perhaps the dried up blood adorning its skin is a remainder of its birth. Oh, God. The world is spinning.

Suddenly, you wince at an increasing pressure slithering around your thigh. The alien's vertebral tail is tightening and encircling your limb, making its way up. 

"Oh no, no no no no" your face reddens at the realization and you pounce on the ground, feverish for escape. The large hands secure you in place and the creature growls in protest. It won't let you leave. 

Not until it had its fun with you.

[togrowoldinv]

The Bodyguard

Bodyguard!Natasha Romanoff x Actress!Reader

Natasha is tasked with being bodyguard to you and you two grow close. Maybe too close, but would she dare cross that line?

Note: I have finally written an installment of this au I’ve been thinking about. Let me know what y’all think! Enjoy!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff is great at her job. In fact, she is so good that she has been in high demand in the bodyguard industry for years. She is tough, but her clients have nothing but good things to say about her.

Nat recently finished an assignment, and she is available. Your agent jumped on the opportunity to hire her to protect you. As an up-and-coming actress, you need a highly skilled security team. And you’re not exactly the easiest person to protect. You like to ditch your security whenever you can.

When she arrives at work, Natasha waits in her boss’s office to get her assignment. Fury walks in the door with a grin on his face. That’s never good, Nat thinks.

“How bad is it?” Nat asks.

Fury chuckles. “Have you heard of Y/n y/l/n?”

“The actress?”

“That’s the one,” Fury says. “Three movies in one year that reached number one at the box office.”

“And I bet she’s a pain in the ass,” Natasha says dryly. She crosses her arms. “You just told me that I was done covering actors.”

“Plans change, Romanoff. You’ll be meeting Miss y/l/n tomorrow at her New York penthouse.”

“Great,” Nat says sarcastically. “Next time I get to choose the job.”

“In your dreams,” Fury quips back.

Nat leaves his office and passes Carol and Valkyrie in the common area of the office. The two look suspicious as they straighten their clothes, but Nat is focused on finding out more about you.

“New assignment?” Valkyrie asks Nat.

“Yeah, an actress. Just my luck.”

“So, you got the Y/n y/l/n job? Impressive,” Carol says.

“Tell me that when the assignment is over,” Natasha replies. She walks to the door but stops short to turn around and say one last word to the woman. “Hey, we all know about you two by the way. It’s nice.”

Nat smirks and leaves the office. She spends the rest of the day googling you and trying to find out everything she can. Your portfolio is impressive, she must admit.

The next morning, Natasha wakes up early and goes for a run before getting ready to meet you. She wears a black suit and her beautiful red hair in a braid. The drive to your penthouse doesn’t take long.

You’re still in your pajamas when she arrives, but your assistant lets her in anyway. She takes a look around for a quick security check while she waits for you to emerge from your bedroom.

“Miss y/l/n, your new bodyguard is here,” your assistant, Kate, says.

Natasha comes into your view and your words catch in your throat. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen such a beautiful woman.

 “Oh, hi,” you say to her.

“Hello, Miss y/l/n,” she speaks, and your heart flutters. She holds out her hand for you to shake. “I’m Agent Romanoff.”

“Call me y/n,” you say as you shake her hand.

“I’d prefer to keep it professional, Miss y/l/n,” she says, trying to ignore that she finds you attractive.

“Right, okay.”

“I have a few rules,” Agent Romanoff begins. “Don’t try to lose me anywhere. It won’t work. Listen to me when I am trying to get you out of a situation or avoiding it all together.”

She pauses when you get out your phone to check a message. You reply and she waits to speak again.

“That was two rules,” you say. “Not a few.”

“Well, I assumed you stopped listening, so I stopped talking,” Nat says.

“I was listening.”

“Sure.”

“Tell me the last rule,” you say.

“That will have to wait,” your assistant interrupts you. “The car is here to take you to the photoshoot.”

Natasha turns to her, “I’ll need information about anyone who drives Miss y/l/n, and you’ll need to include me on all itineraries from this point on.”

“Okay,” Kate replies.

“Thank you.”

You grab your jacket and purse before heading down to the car that’s waiting outside. Nat follows you closely. There are a few fans waiting but nothing compared to some days. You get inside the car, and she sits in the seat next to you.

She buckles up and waits for you expectantly to do the same. The car is in motion before you do it, so takes it upon herself to reach over you and grab the belt.

“What are you doing?!” You ask her.

“You’re not invincible,” Nat says while clicking your belt into place.

You groan in annoyance, but you do feel warm at the thought of someone caring enough for you to make sure you are buckled. You really need to surround yourself with better people.

At the photoshoot, Nat stands guard. She stays out of the way but keeps an eye on you. She doesn’t mind watching you wear beautiful clothes and pose in appealing ways. The whole thing kind of turns her on.

The first few weeks of her employment goes like this. You attend events, parties, and photoshoots. You don’t give Nat any trouble. That is until the night of your birthday party.

The first part of the night went fine. So many people showed up that you didn’t even know them all, but that’s the industry for you. You are sitting at a table and flirting with one of your new colleagues when things take a turn for the worst.

“How about we find somewhere more private?” He leans in and asks you.

“Maybe another time,” you say. You like him just fine, but you really don’t want to leave the party yet. 

“Come on, baby. It’ll be fun.”

“Not tonight,” you reply.

You glance towards Nat who is across the room. She catches your eyes and walks closer to you, keeping her distance but ready to help if you need her.

“Y/n, let’s go,” the man says, taking your hand and trying to pull you up.

“No,” you say firmly.

“She said no,” your actress friend that you’re closest to, Wanda, jumps in.

“Come on,” he still won’t relent. His grip is tightening on your arm. It hurts. He leans closer to your lips. “Let’s just-”

“Hands off of her,” he is interrupted by Natasha getting in his face. She pushes his chest to get him off of you. He releases your arm, but doesn’t back down from Nat.

“What are you going to do about it?” He attempts to taunt her.

“Leave,” Nat says. “Or I’ll put you through that wall.”

“So dramatic,” he says. But he backs away and heads towards the door.

Once he is out of sight, Natasha turns back to you. Wanda and a few others are trying to protect you, but you only want comfort from one person. You practically jump into her arms as you try to hide your tears from anyone else. Nat hugs you back, but with hesitance.

She feels safe and warm as you let yourself go in her arms. Her black leather jacket collects your tears. She walks with you in her arms away from the crowd.

“Are you alright?” She asks, real concern in her eyes.

“I’m fine,” you say, but you don’t look it. Nat walks you to your car and inside the vehicle.

You look out the window and try to hold back your tears.

“Let me see your arm,” Nat says after a few minutes.

You hold it out for her to examine. She doesn’t see any injuries. Her touch is featherlight as she rubs her hands over the aching muscles.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t get near you again,” she says.

“Thanks, Agent Romanoff,” you reply.

“You can call me Natasha,” she says.

“I love that name,” you tell her. She smirks.

“I’ll step in sooner next time, okay?”

“Okay. Maybe we need a code word or something,” you suggest.

“Like spies,” Nat jokes. You crack a smile, and she feels better about your state. “Let’s see. You can switch your drink from one hand to another.”

“We’ll workshop it, Natasha,” you say.

Nat nods. When you arrive at home, Nat helps you inside. She typically leaves you for the night, but you ask her to stay. Natasha sleeps on the couch.

When you wake in the morning, you find her sitting upright and ready to work. You sigh, thinking about the events from last night.

“What is it? Am I just not pretty?” You ask Natasha as you throw yourself onto the couch next to her.

“You know I can’t answer that and be professional,” Natasha replies.

She tries not to smirk at the way you dramatically sat down. She is slowly opening up to the idea of enjoying being around you as more than just her client.

“But you could just tell me because it seems that no one wants to date me,” you say.

“Y/n,” Natasha warns. “Trust me you are not the problem. I know for a fact people tell you that you are pretty all the time. Those assholes that go after you say it. You wouldn’t be a successful actress if you weren’t pretty.”

“Maybe, but I really don’t feel pretty.”

You sit up straighter and wait for Natasha’s response.

“You’re beautiful, y/n,” Natasha says sincerely.

“Really?”

“Really. Inside and out,” she says.

“I don’t know about that,” you reply despondently.

“I know. Look I haven’t known you but a few weeks, but I know that you’re a good person, y/n. And that makes you more beautiful than a million other people in the same position that you’re in,” Natasha explains.

There is no hesitation in her voice. It is nothing but the truth.

You feel yourself leaning in closer to her, but she moves away breaking the closeness. You try not to frown.

“Rule number three: We can’t get too close to each other,” Natasha says. “I have to protect you with a clear mind.”

“Okay,” you say. “But maybe we could break the rules, Natasha?”

To be continued…

[minawritesfanfic]

You are who you eat

Dexter Morgan x Reader

Word count: 2k

Summary: You thought you were the only rational serial killer in maimi but when you walk in on a certain someone from work, you realize you’re view of the world was very shallow.

Part 1

Previous | Next

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

I hummed to myself as I walked into work, Miami Metro Police Department. In one hand was four cups of fresh coffee and in the other a donut that I’d bought for myself, I greeted the girl at the front desk, Alissa, we said a quick hello and exchanged pleasantries before I continued down the hallway towards my office. I greeted nearly everyone I saw as I passed them making idly plans to visit this person, go to that persons birthday, and go swimming with another. After three more invitations I finally managed to make it to my sweet corner of the station and was greeted by familiar faces, only Jackie looked up at me with a smile. Sterling and Josefina l exhausted after pulling an all nighter.

“Good morning, you guys look like you need this.” I set down the coffees on their desks and looked up gratefully.

“You’re a godsend mi vida, you’re the reason I live.” Josefina said as she sipped away at her coffee and I just laughed as I set down my own coffee.

“You’re welcome, how come you guys are still here?”

“I’m still finishing my report but then I’m leaving.” Sterling said stretching his arms for a bit before grabbing his coffee.

“I was on my way out, just waiting for you to get here. These are for you to give to homicide, while I am going home to sleep for five days straight.” She grabbed a box off the floor and handed it to me.

“Uhh what’s this?” I asked as I damn near dropped the box from to how heavy it was, inside there were various old looking laptops.

“These are all the new computers that need to be distributed to the homicide department, but first we need to make sure they’re all using the correct and up to date software. Heads up most of them don’t.”

“So this is what all the approved overtime was for, just great. Alright I’ve got it from here, I’ll see you Thursday Josie.” I said as I set the box on the floor beside my desk.

I waved to Josefina as she left before sitting down at my desk, I booted up my computer and checked my email for my assignments for today. There were only three thankful so I decided to get those out of the way before starting on the computers for the homicide, I sent a quick reply and stood. I grabbed my coffee and took a sip as I stepped out the office, first on the agenda was a blue screen in one of the departments upstairs. I happily sipped at my coffee as I made my way to the elevator and as I pressed the button for the next floor I heard someone call out for me to hold the elevator. I did and a guy I had seen around a few times stepped into the elevator with his bag and he thanked me smiling politely. The elevator stopped at the next floor and we both stepped out, the man went straight ahead to homicide and I watched him for a moment before heading to left to internal affairs where I’d been requested and went to see what the issue was.

Thankfully I managed to finish all my assignments and with the computers for homicide at a reasonable hour, so I still have time to start preparing for my next meal, pot roasted Roger Hicks. Full time car salesman part time scum bag, he came on my radar after his name popped up in an ongoing case. After meeting with him in person and visting his home it was clear that he was exactly the kind of scum I thought he was, and tonights was the night I take him and turn him a more refined dish. I decided to stake out at the car dealership, wait for everyone to leave then strike him just as he’s leaving.

Finally the sun had set and I knew it was time as I saw Roger leaving the office, he had his bag over his shoulder and seemed to be in a good mood. I quietly got out of my car, I doubled checked my surroundings and started to cross the parking lot towards him when he suddenly turned around. I ducked back where I was and hid behind one of the show cars and realized that there was someone behind him, I peeked out from my hiding spot planning to hide until they left Roger alone but to my surprise they started to strangle him with something I couldn’t make out from afar in the dark. I was baffled and frustrated as I couldn’t even make out the other persons face as they had their back to me, all I could do was silently watch as the took the now collapsed Roger and rolled him into their van. I was speechless and frozen in place but composed myself as they got into their car, I had to find out what they were going to do to him. I got back in my car and watched as they high tailed it out of the parking lot, I turned my car on and followed them out.

It was a short drive but I made sure to be careful that whoever this was didn’t catch me followikg them, and I watched as they pulled into the driveway of a house I recognized. One of the victims houses, Ann Cohen, a chill ran down my spine as I drove past the house and parked further up the street. I got out and walked back to the house sneaking up on the side, I tried peeking in through the windows but I couldn’t see much of anything. I was going to have to break in, I sighed and went around to the back door which to my luck was still unlocked. I was thankful I wouldn’t have to lock pick anything because I absolutely sucked at it, I entered the house quietly and shut the door behind me. The house looked relatively untouched beyond some of Ann’s things being packed up in boxes, it was saddening knowing someone so full of life had it snuffed out and tainted. The thought revived my anger reminding me why I had chosen Roger for my next meal, I should be the one killing him not doing whatever this weirdo was trying to do.

I froze as I approached the living room and saw what this mystery person had done to it, it was covered in plastic and as I stepped closer I could see pictures on the wall that I realized where Roger’s other victims. Most notably though was Roger fucking Hicks laid out bare on a table covered in plastic wrap, I crouched down and decided to watch before doing anything rash. I watch through the plastic as this mystery man talked to Roger, I still couldn’t see his face as he had again had his back to me but as he began to walk around I saw him.

“Looks different under plastic but you spent an evening here… with Ann Cohen.” He said pointing to the corner of the room, “You took her last breath from her right over there. You remember?” I barely managed to supress my gasp of surprise. I know this guy, I work with this guy.

“No! You’re- you’re wrong, I couldn’t.” Roger denied adamantly and clearly confused.

“Well you would and you did, and you were about to do it again. That’s why we’re here.”

“No, this is insane. You got the wrong guy I-I sell cars, for godsake. I’ve never hurt anyone in my life- definitely not a woman.”

“Why can’t I do that?” The man asked ignoring all of Roger’s pathetic excuses.

“Do what?”

“Lie like that. I mean I thought I was good, but you, it’s.. mwah.” He said walking away to the other side of the table grabbing something that I wasn’t able to see.

“I don’t lie!”

“Okay, that one was weak.”

Roger started to try and buy his way out offering the man but he had a rebuttal to everything he said, it was almost funny watching their interaction. Roger trying everything he could but nothing seemed to work on him, as he so easily saw through his lies. Though as Roger brought up his girlfriend things seemed to take a different turn and he had the man’s full attention, even though his words were uncaring but his body language portrayed a different picture. Roger didn’t see what I saw though and started an angry tangent about how awful women were but he wasn’t rambling on long before the man stabbed him in the chest. I took that as my cue to leave, I knew who this guy was and what his intentions are but I need to learn more I do anything rash. I stood up but my legs were weak from being on the floor for so long, I reached out to the thing neared to me and accidentally knocked over a lamp.

I turned and saw him looking directly towards me but I figured he couldn’t make out my face in the dark, I bolted out the door and back around the house. I could hear him scrambling out to follow me but he didn’t follow me for long, I figured he thought it was better to clean up after himself than chase me. I sighed and got back into my car, driving off without giving it a second thought. My heart was racing and adrenaline pumped through my veins, I had seen a lot of things as a serial killer but never something like this. Sure I’d seen organized and carefully killers before but never like that, that was the king of kill room where nothing was left behind. It was the perfect crime scene, part of me was jealous I hadn’t though of it first it was so much smarter then staying in one place where I could be found. Not that I was going to give up the cozy spot that was my morgue kill room, it was like a third home to me but I couldn’t still admire this guy’s dedication to the craft.

The drive home was quiet, I was so consumed in my thoughts I hadn’t even bothered to turn on the radio. I just couldn’t get what I saw out of my mind and all yhe anger I felt over having my target stolen simply faded away, I was enamored and fascinated by him. Though I needed to do some more research as he may be another person I need to add to my grocery list, I hoped I wouldn’t have to. From his words it seemed like he had targeted Roger specifically because of what he had done to both those girls and was planning to do to another, maybe he killed murders and serial killers like me. Maybe that was me jumping the gun, but it was nice to hope because that definitely wasn’t his first time killing. My mind wandered on and on even as I started unlocking my front door, I pulled out my key and swung the door open before shutting it behind me. I carefully took off my shoes at the front door and proceeded to plop down onto my couch, a wistful sigh left my lips as I started up at the ceiling. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come as it would give me the chance to find out who this mystery guy was, for now all I knew was that he worked in homicide. Which was likely where he found Roger, I managed to get a glimpse at the case when I was restoring some files on one of the detectives computers. I wondered what he kept as a trophy for his kills, maybe he photographed them like me. After every meal I turn my victims into, I scrapebook it. Its perfectly inconspicuous and allows me to broadcast it to the whole world with no fear of someone questioning, because without context its just a compliantion of dishes I have made. Regardless it was getting late and I had work in the morning, with a groan I rolled off the couch and disappeared into my bedroom not even bothering to shower before bed.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

[angelisverba]

achilles heel

in which y/n gets herself into another precarious situation and wants her dealer to help her, and harry can’t help but feel conflicted about how much he wants her

read part one here

word count: 14k

pairing: plug!h and y/n

warning: bad trip! peer pressure, drug coercion, drugs, mentions of bullying, sexual content!

author’s note: there aren’t any facts to back up the use of any kind of sexual enhancers, so much of this experience is improvised and not actually something that would happen irl in terms of science. love you! 

Two slow, torturously long weeks pass- one in which he was out of business entirely trying to stock his inventory up again- before he hears from her again. In the middle of the night, it’s beginning to become a pattern for them. He only hopes that this time, it’s not for an asshole group of people.

His bohemian dream of a room is upturned, messy, as he’s been a grump about not seeing her. There’s shirts strewn everywhere, his bed is a rumpled mess and he wishes that it were because he had sex in it instead of restlessly sleeping. He’s coming out of the shower with a white towel low on his hips. There are clouds of thick steam coming out from his open bathroom door and while a majority is from the hot water he hoped would soothe his tense body, there's a bit of thicker, headier smoke from the skinny spliff he hotboxed while in the tub. 

And it hadn’t worked for shit. Because he was still cranky, still restless. His fingers were itching to do something, and if he hadn’t just smoked weed, he would be in his garage, throwing around weights like a madman to try and get himself tired. Sadly, he wasn’t even fucking horny, so jerking off wasn’t an option. 

Sidestepping his sweatpants by the edge of his bed, Harry grips the thick of the fabric at his crotch and reaches for a pair of clean underwear from a drawer at his bedside table, furrows his eyebrows at the box of condoms stashed in there, and pull on white boxers. He throws the towel at the end of his bed and lays back with his arms splayed wide, sighing dramatically. He felt deeply sorry for himself. 

Y/n was probably never going to talk to him again because the last few times they had seen each other, Harry was a complete dick to her, acting every bit like the asshole drug dealer that had a criminal reputation. God, the girl was probably scared of him. He fucked his all-

Ping!

This phone went off with a notification. The same tone he had assigned her, and Harry’s body lurched off the bed. His arms swept the expanse of his bed, ruffling his duvet in search of the device. 

Ping!

It went off again, and the urgency in which he was searching increased. Where the fuck was his-

He found it when it thunked onto the floor, and with shaking hands, he unlocked it. 

Y/n: Hi, Harry! 

Are you available for delivery at the moment?

Of course he is. Always, for her. But he didn’t type that back, obviously. He had to be cool.

Harry: I am. What can I get you?

The gray dots appear instantly, and he gets another text shortly after. 

Y/n: Do you have any brownies?

He had been to a frat party earlier in the day in which a group of senior guys had taken some pot brownies off his hands. Before confirming with her, he double-checks his inventory on the notes app folder  he has just to keep track of stock. 

Harry: I have half a dozen left tonight

Should he have added a smiley face? No, that would have been creepy right?.... 

Y/n: Perfect :D ! I’ll take five, please! 

Harry: No problem. Can I have the address, please?

She sends it not even a minute later. All concerns regarding driving a vehicle while high unethically fly out of his mind because honestly, he wasn’t even high anymore. Not even feeling it. She was only twenty minutes away, ten if he didn’t pay attention to laws.

Harry: I’m On my way! 

Y/n: See you soon!

Yeah, fuck the laws.

***

He makes it in 8 minutes. 

And something about this house doesn’t feel right. 

He didn’t realize it until the houses started looking nice and the parked cars on the side of the street started getting more expensive than the address she had provided him with was one on the wealthier side of town. He knew of a guy that lived here who everyone talked about because his method of acquiring money was sketchier than Harry’s, and well… that said a lot given that Harry sold drugs for a living.

The end of the driveway that he parks on is wide enough to be a two-way street. One of the lights flickered on by the motion sensor as Harry took his helmet out and shook his hair back. In his rush to get here, he hadn’t put on a shirt, and with his leather jacket left unzipped, his tattoos were on full display. The moonlight gleamed on the ridges of his abdomen, casting shadows across the markings on his skin. He was warm despite the chill in the air, and the cool drift of the night wind on his muscles was a welcome feeling. 

Harry just didn’t realize how… devilish he looked. He appeared every bit the bad boy ready to sweep you off your feet in the summer, and the serious expression on his face added to the mystery. Wondering if this time she was able to hear his motorcycle from deep inside wherever she was in that mansion of the house, Harry kicked his stand down, hung his helmet on the handlebar, and took his phone out to let her know he was here.

Harry: I’m outside

Grey bubbles pop-up, squiggling like a little wave. And then…

Y/n: Be right there!

All of the breath in his lungs vacates his chest, and he gets warmer than he already was. Pacing the short lengths of his motorcycle, he wonders how he may get more nervous to see her every time he sees her. He never used to be this way, not even with a girl he wanted to talk up at a bar. There was a confidence within him, this shine that sprouted from knowing that he knew he was the shit, and he was going to use that to his advantage, to make a girl blush and stutter. Instead, she was the one to turn him inside out. He forgot all about basic manners around her. He forgot how to smile without questioning if his smile was wonky. He thought-

“Hi, Harry!”

He thought she looked so fucking sexy tonight. 

Coming from the front door, y/n is a wispy, gauzy mirage. Her feet are wobbly, and there’s a glass tumbler in her hand with a toothpick-skewered olive. She’s smiling so brightly at him, and this unrestricted happiness at his appearance alarms him. Where is the timid girl who speaks to him with a voice barely above a whisper? She must be drunk he thinks. 

An itchy feeling he can’t shake off overcomes him because the girl is wearing a lacy slip dress that is so sheer, he can see her pink undergarments underneath. A white cardigan slides off her shoulders and hangs on to her elbow like a satin bow slipping loosely from a gift. He can’t decide if he wants to tie her back up or unravel her. 

She runs the last few steps to him, and either she miscalculates her stop, or trips on a pebble because suddenly, she’s in his arms and he’s holding her upright. And he’s also breathing heavily because a rush of blood has made its way down to his cock and he knows she can see it pressing through his jeans and against her belly if the way her eyes go round is any indication. 

Her drink slips from her hand, and shatters at their feet. The loud scattering of glass makes her jump, and an apology is clumsily stumbling from her mouth while she tries to pull herself from his embrace. Harry, however, tightens his hold. His fingers squeeze at her waist, and through the lace of her dress, he can feel the overlapping fabric of her panties. Without saying anything, he lifts her and takes a few steps to the side before setting her down away from the hazard. 

“What-” her brows furrow, and her head tilts to the side. She isn’t rushing out of his arms now.

Interrupting her, Harry explains, “y’were about to step on the glass.” 

“Oh,” y/n is back to whispering as her eyes travel all over his face, “thank you.”

With her in his arms, Harry has forgotten how to act. His mind is blank as a sheet of paper, and his lungs are expanding and contracting but oxygen isn’t really reaching him because he smells something sweet combined with alcohol on her warm breath. He sees how y/n’s facial expressions resemble that of a guppy fish, and he realizes that maybe he should let her go but he can’t because… because her fingers are shifting around his arms and she’s kind of shifting her weight and writhing and Harry still has a fucking boner so this is all-

He steps back, observing her shiver, and clears his throat. “Of course. Are you…are you cold?”

“Cold?” she asks. Her voice is silvery like the incantation of a church bell and he wants to fall to his knees are revere her, to beg for forgiveness, for her to cleanse him of all his sins. The night air has turned him into some kind of animal, he decides. The moon has transformed him into the hungry, howling wolf who will only be silenced by knowing her in the most carnal way. Meeting under the blanket of darkness has decided their fate. 

“You’re shivering,” he states, voices unwavering and factual. That confidence he was missing before has somehow found its way back. Like tectonic plates, the tension has shifted in his favor. Harry gathers the courage to fix the cardigan on her shoulders. 

His hands graze the cool skin of her biceps, and he doesn’t miss the way she textures with evidence of her intimidation. The way her breath stops altogether and he mumbles under his breath, “Just fixing y’up, darling. Y’can breathe, m’not gonna bite,” and she drops her arms at her side to let him help her, and then…

He feels the thin, sharp glide of her fingernails at his sternum. How can a single touch be so erotic? His jeans are too tight over his bulge, and fighting a groan, he exhales deeply, looking up at her to find her eyes droopy, staring at his butterfly tattoo. Her mouth moves around the shape of pretty before her eyes flicker up at him. They both freeze. Prey and predator, caught before the deadly pounce. 

But y/n breaks their eye contact. 

Harry drags the fabric up so it sits properly on her shoulders, and slides his fingers down to the front, so he can begin with the first button. His fingers drag unnecessarily like syrup on the skin right above her slip, and her audible gulp along with her choked, thank you check him back into his manners. She might have toyed with him, albeit unknowingly, but he welcomed it. He doubted that she was 100% sure if she wanted that reciprocated, so he stopped. As much as it hurt him to do so, he stopped.

At the last button, he reluctantly steps back, “All done, don’t want to get sick now, do you?” 

And he manages a smile. It’s small, with just a bit of a cocky gap between his lips to white teeth. His hands slip into his front pockets, pulling his jeans forward subtly to give his dick some breathing room. He feels branded where she touched him, that sliver of skin hot with burning desire. Visions of them together flash behind his eyes like bits of a dream he’s trying hard to remember.

“You’re right,” she mumbles, “thank you.” Y/n wraps her arm around herself and can't seem to make eye contact with him.

The rational side of him that’s drowning in his tunnel vision reminds him that he’s there to do something (deliver drugs), so he moves around to the compartment and pulls out the paper bag. This time, it’s decorated in a field of smiling, dancing daisies sprouting from the bottom of the bag. “Here are your brownies,” giving her the bag, he laments that he’s going to have to leave her soon. 

“How much do I owe you?” Y/n blinks up at him like she’s just barely waking up. Like she’s trying hard to stay focused, just like him. But that would be silly, Harry thinks, because there’s no way they share the same feelings. She only touched him because she’s drunk, or tipsy, and he’s just a drug dealer, and no matter how much of a boner he has for her, his dreams of rutting over her like a dog in heat aren’t going to come true. She’s too delicate for him.

He feels shitty taking money from her, but that is his livelihood, and chances were the douchebags buying from her probably threw more money at her than necessary given how rich they were. So, he tells her the total, and he hands him- just like he expected- crisp bills.

“Thank you,” he says, taking the money from her and shoving it into his compartment. His legs make no move to straddle his bike, even though that’s what his brain tells them to do. They’re not really listening to him though. And y/n stands them holding the bag, staring at the shattered glass and worrying her lip between her teeth. She’s not in any rush to get back inside, so Harry asks her a question- something that’s been on his mind ever since he left her the last time- to keep her out a little longer, “h-how was it? Last time, I mean. Smoking with those people?”

The girl straightens at the memory, suddenly energized. “Oh! I didn’t actually do it. They tried to get me to, but I didn’t in the end.” 

Jerking his chin towards the bag in her hand, “Do y’plan on eating some of these?” 

Y/n shakes her head, “Not really, I have work tomorrow. So does everyone else but,” she shrugs, pursing her lips a little and looks over her shoulder at the house. The relatively quiet house. “I already drank a little more than I should have.” 

“I see.” Nodding, he’s left with no other choice but to reach for his helmet to put it back on. It’s time to leave. For the life of him, he can’t seem to figure out why such a sweet girl would continue to choose to hang out with people like this. Who drink and do drugs recklessly. He was concerned for her safety, and he made a mental note to ask Mitch about it. He wasn’t anyone to tell her what to do. 

He wishes he were, but he wasn’t. 

“Well, be safe, okay? Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Harry. I’ll see you,” and she waves at him with a small, shy smile. The cardigan is already slipping off her shoulder even though it was buttoned up, and she turns around to walk back into the house.

Harry’s finally gotten to dozing off when his phone rings. 

Blindly, he slaps his hand around and curses whoever is on the other end of the line for interrupting his maladaptive dreaming about y/n. He got home grumpy, slamming doors behind him and stomping around his own home. Feeling sorry for himself, he had turned on his Sade playlist and allowed her smoky voice to lull him to sleep. Creases had decorated the space between his thick brows, his pink lips literally turned upside down and occasionally he mumbled curse words at himself. In effort to relieve his own stress, he turned on a lavender candle, and it burned dimly on his bedside. 

“Yeah?” He rasps sleepily into the phone, annoyance dripping from his voice. 

There’s a couple of sniffles on the other end. This gets his attention, his eyes snapping open as his ears strain to listen, and then, “H-Harry?” 

Was he still dreaming? Harry bolted upright from his bed, dragging a hand over his face. Was that actually y/n’s weepy, crying voice leaking through his speaker? He recognized the normally sweet voice, but instead of shy and timid, it was shaky and sad… maybe even a little panicked. 

“Y/n?” Harry asked, spiking up in volume as a million-and-one scenario of her in danger played out in his mind. “What’s wrong?” 

She hiccuped, “I-I was- Everyone was- They gave me a piece and said I should- But I didn’t want to and they- I don’t-” The poor girl was making no sense, and couldn’t seem to keep track of her thoughts, whether it be because she was too frazzled, or her irregular sobs stole the rest of her sentences and she would start new. The fact that he has just woken up, remnants of sleep leaving him more and more by the second, didn’t help either. He had to get her to calm down somehow. 

“Sweetheart,” He interjected, repeating the endearment twice before she stopped talking long enough for him to get his word in. “ Listen to me… Take a deep breath, listen to my voice.” 

Y/n made a long, keening noise, and something stirred his gut like the whirls of dark waters in turbulent seas. This wasn’t normal. She wasn’t herself, which only left one thing, “I’m trying but my skin feels weird and-” 

She was having a bad trip. 

Those fuckers have coerced her into taking something, whether it be the brownies he sold her, or some other drugs they had in the house. Y/n had taken drugs against her will, and she was stuck in a place where she didn’t feel entirely comfortable with anyone there because these were the same people that bullied her at her workplace. The situation she was in, and the simple fact that they did not respect when she said no made his blood boil. He felt like a caged cat, pacing back and forth, tail swiping low on the ground. 

But his next thought cowed him.

If the drugs she had consumed were his brownies, did that mean he was partially to blame? He was responsible for there being something to press on her, to begin with, wasn’t he? He delivered them into her hands, which she then transferred to her party, and they turned it around on her. Harry was at the start of all of this. 

He sat up, and ran his hand through his hair, swallowing back the sour taste that started at the back of his mouth and twisted his chest. Pushing all of it aside, he focused on her, “I know darling, I know. Close y’eyes. S’gonna be okay, y/n. Close your eyes.”

Rough, uneven breaths reverberated through his speaker, and he realized she was trying to calm herself. Harry wanted to scream and punch something. This is his fault. She was having a bad trip because of him. There were times when he was feeling generous and upped the milligram ingredient in his pastries, and he can’t remember if he did that this time but regardless, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt he’s ever felt this guilty. He could have said no, when she texted him. Or not respond at all. But he was selfish and wanted to see her. This is where his selfishness got him.

“M’kay.” She responds a little more sure, but it isn’t enough for him. He started this mess, now he has to fix it. He gets out of bed again, in such a rush that his duvet ends up strewn on the floor, and he reaches to tug his recklessly discarded jeans over his long legs. He yanks a burgundy knit sweater that he finds- also on the floor- but he’s not cold. He’s sweating with anxiety, and the sweater was just for her benefit. What if y/n is cold again? Harry has to be better not, he can’t fuck up with her anymore like this. He was going to take it off again as soon as he saw her and be shirtless again with his leather jacket. 

 With the device pressed between his shoulder and ear, he buttoned up his pants and shoves his feet into the first pair of shoes he found, “Y’got your eyes closed f’me?”

“Yes, Harry,” she whimpers again, sounding so unsure, so small, and fuck, the crack down the middle of his heart grows. Closing your eyes while high was scary, especially if you were having a bad trip, Harry knows that having a handful of negative experiences himself, but it was the one thing he could think of right now. To get her to focus on his voice rather than anything going on around her. Wherever she was. 

“Good girl. Now just listen to me, okay,” walking out of his room, he swiped his keys off his kitchen counter, and snagged his leather jacket from -surprise, surprise- off the floor right before entering the garage, “Where are you right now?”

“I’m… I think I’m in a bathroom,” y/n peeps a response. 

“Alright, good. Good, sweetheart. Now how much did you take?” Putting the jacket on, Harry turns the key in the ignition and straddles his bike. He presses the button he keeps on his keys for the garage door, and walks his bike out. The street lamps in his neighborhood are on, illuminating patches of the concrete like polka dots. 

There’s some noise in the background. It sounds like knocking and the call of her name. “M’not sure… maybe… maybe half? They’re knocking on the door, Harry.” 

She’s so scared. For the first time, he realizes that she doesn’t trust anyone there. That’s why she was calling him. If there was, she would be resting her head in their lap, and talking things out with them. That’s what you do when you’re high. And this was her first fucking time doing any kind of drug? They made her take more than what she was supposed to. 

“All at once? Don’t listen to them, sweetheart, focus on me.” This time, the timbre of his voice is livid. He didn’t take kindly to these kinds of things, and he was going to find some way to get back at all of them. 

“Yeah, I took a bite only but Alana said I would be a party pooper if I didn’t eat more, so I did because everyone was watching.” There’s more noise, yelling. The knocking gets louder.

“Fuck!” Slapping his hand against his helmet, Harry tilts his head back and wills himself to calm down. He couldn’t drive like this. 

She gasps, startled, “Did I do something wrong? Oh my God, am I going to die? Harry, am I-”

“Shh, no. No, y/n. Everything is going to be fine. I’m on my way, okay. Everything is going to be fine. Can you set a timer for eight minutes on your phone, and walk outside when it rings?” He nears the end of his driveway, shaking his head at his lack of restraint. He had to hold it together for her.

“Yeah,” she responds.

“Perfect, I’ll be right there. I’m coming to get you, okay?” He’s firm in his delivery, so she doesn’t have any reason to doubt him. 

“Okay…” her single-word answer drags out, and he waits for her to say more. “Do you have to hang up?”

“I do, darling. My motorcycle helmet doesn’t have a Bluetooth mouthpiece, so I won’t be able to hear you. It’s only eight minutes, I promise.” He decides not to pay attention to how easily the endearment terms are rolling off his tongue, and to the sure-ness in his sternum that was missing at the start of their meetings. 

“Alright. Bye, Harry.” 

He doesn’t say bye, because it isn’t one. “I’ll see you in a little bit.” 

***

On his five (FIVE!!!) minute drive to y/n, full of felonies and annoyed car horns, Harry decides two things. One, owning a motorcycle is probably the best decision he’s ever made because it allows him to do things like this, and two, he’s come to the conclusion that he no longer cares for social formalities, and he’s going to… honor his cravings as long as y/n lets him. He knows that the moment he gets there, he’s going to want to coddle her, tug her to his side, and hide her inside his jacket as much as he could, like a bear with food in the winter. Besides, it wouldn’t be so bad to provide the feeling of safety if she needed it. In fact, he was eager to. He decides that just for today, it’s okay. 

Because he gets there three minutes earlier than the time he told her, so even though he doesn’t have to, he rushes to park his bike, swinging off of it before it’s even rolled to a complete stop and jogging up the long driveway to wait by some bushes near the window. He was partially obscured from the front door, and he wanted to stay that way in case Y/n wasn’t the first person to walk out. 

Sweat coated the back of his neck while the rest of him was ice cold. Looking each and every way, he took off his jacket and slipped off the knit sweater to slip it over her head as soon as he could. Harry listened intently, the ragged sound of his own breathing filling his ears as he tried to pick up on any noise that might indicate trouble, but all he heard was faint chattering and the occasional bout of loud, loopy chortles. 

Momentarily after, those voices get louder, some of them aggressive, and there are sounds of movement. The heavy pattern of feet moving quickly, the scratch of furniture on the floor. Someone- a female- is asking where someone is going, and Harry knows it’s y/n. Running to the door, he makes it just as it swings open, and a very red-eyed y/n stands there, one hand on the door with her eyes on the floor. She’s mumbling, something over and over, and he thinks one of those words is his name. 

He’s reaching out to encase her in his arms when she blinks a few times, slowly, like she's just waking up, and her eyes are dragging up her body to register his face. 

Tilting her head to the side confusedly, she steps out, closes the door behind her, and mumbles, “Harry’s waiting for me.” 

His heart melts and he feels the bursting of a thousand suns in his chest. Smiling down at her invertebrate state, with his eyes softening and a gentle caramel-like baritone streaming through the rough in his voice, “I’m here, darling. Come with me.” 

Poor thing is so out of it, her eyes start to water, her chin trembling and her shoulders beginning to shake with the rattles of oncoming sobs. Had he spooked her? Her eyes were puffy and hooded, but he knows that doesn’t mean she can’t see him. Y/n is probably just overwhelmed, he thinks. She’s out in the dark and cold, high, and he’s a tall, scary figure looming over her. Voices inside are getting closer, their sentences running over each other so that he can’t really understand what they’re saying, only that they sound upset. 

Ignoring the rumble that is bound to get to them, Harry kneels down to her level and takes hold of her cold trembling hands in his large ones, bringing them to his chest to get her to focus on him, “lovie, s’me,” he pleads for her to recognize him, “I’m Harry, I came f’you like I said I would, y/n.” 

“Y/n!” A man inside, short and skinny but snooty looking with a sharp, shark-like face stalks towards them. His parade of three- two blonde girls and a dark-haired guy- follow behind him. They all have glasses in their hands. One of them had a cigarette. “What are you doing?”

At the sound of her name, y/n’s eyes shut tightly, and her chest rises quickly with sharp breaths that escape her mouth. Dropping her head, a long whine seeps away from her like a sticky substance, and Harry wants to wipe it all away. He’s not sure why he’s reacting this way, or what he should do to help her, because he’s had bad trips but they’ve all been hallucinogen-based.

“Baby-” 

“Y/n” the asshole with the dark hair calls her name so arrogantly, Harry can’t help but wonder what they’re like sober, “who is that? Will you come back inside? We’re about to start playing pass-blow.” 

They’ve interrupted him twice now, and with every second that passes, he gets huffier. Frustrated. Angry. Because he’s just trying to talk to this angel and they’re overwhelming her. Y/n is whimpering now, her hands moist in his, and she’s sniffling every few seconds. 

“Y/n,” he tries again to get her to look at him, to say something. He doesn’t want to act inappropriately, and with her consent already being disregarded once tonight, he’s doing everything in his power to get her to speak what she wants. 

With glassy eyes, y/n dazedly stared at him for a moment. Her expression was stuck between confusion and sadness, her lips downturned and her brows furrowed, “Wanna leave, H.” 

Harry nodded at her, “Okay, we can leave.” Then he stood up and grabbed the sweater over his shoulder, “Put this on first, lovie. It’s cold.” Slipping it over her head and helping her stick her arms through, he tugged it all the way down, near to her knees, all the while ignoring the group that started and whispered behind her. When he was done, he pulled her under his arm and walked in the direction of his bike. 

All of two seconds passed before an agitating, grating voice interrupted them, “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” 

Harry can’t take it anymore. Placing his hand at the back of her head to cup her to his chest while he turns around to spit out a response at this douchebag, he takes deep breaths and tries to focus on her comfort. He tries to focus on the warmth of her breath against his chest and the way one hand is wrapped around his wrist, her fingers drawing loose circles on the tender skin, and the other is clutching his shirt tightly. But he feels that he has to say something, in some weird ‘marking my territory’ kind of way.

“Fuck off, asshole! You’re not getting shit from me anymore,” Y/n jumps in his arms at the tone and volume of his voice, and the wimp shrinks back, too. He mumbles something about it ‘not being fair’ like a whiny child and turns around. Harry gently removes her hand from his wrist so he can wrap it around her shoulders, and starts walking down the pathway back to his motorcycle, whispering, “C’mon baby, walk with me. Do you want me to take you somewhere? I can call an Uber? Sarah’s house? We can go back to my place, too. Y’name it, love, I’ll do it for you.” 

“Okay.” If she’s surprised at his sudden softening, she doesn’t show it. Hell, she’s probably too out of it to do anything but appreciate anyone that is considerate to her current state, given that she was hanging around assholes who were making fun of her while she was having a bad trip. 

They reach his bike, and Harry guides her by her shoulders to sit with her butt on the side of his seat. He crouches down in front of her, and wraps his hand on the back of her shins, grasping firmly to give her some kind of sensation to ground herself on. The loopy look in her eye that was there when he first arrived has drifted away like mist in a breeze, and she’s looking at him a bit more clearly. 

“You still doing okay?” He asks, trying to catch her eyes but y/n is fiddling with her fingers and looks a little… frustrated? “Y/n? Can you tell me what you want to do, love?”

“M’sorry,” Her lower lip wobbles and there’s a small tremble in her chin. Her eyes, when she finally finds his, are watery, and it makes Harry’s heart pinch. He wants to hold her until she’s okay. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but can we... go back to your place?”

He rises then and cups her face in his hands to ensure that she’s looking at him. A little voice in his head is telling him that he’s being too touchy and needs to tone it down, but y/n can’t seem to keep her hands off him. His elbows are warmed through his jacket by her nimble fingers. 

Cooing at her almost, “Hey, s’kay. Y/n okay. No crying, alright? I’m happy that I could be here to help you, okay? Of course, we can go back to my place, as long as you’re cool with it. Are you comfortable riding on my motorcycle right now? I can order an uber if you aren’t.”

 “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” Nodding, she sniffles and looks into his eyes finally. They sparkle underneath the light, like stars are trapped in her pupils, and the sight takes his breath away. She’s still whispering, but it’s no longer as panicked and short. It might just be the brownies wearing off, or her high calming down. 

“Right, then.” Before letting go of her sweet face, he swipes his thumbs along the apples of her cheeks in a soothing motion. He walks around to the back of his bike and unlocks the compartment to take out a spare helmet. Holding it up, he gestures for her to tilt her head towards him, “safety first.” 

“Your eyes are pretty. Like that thing that makes Superman weak.”  

“Kryptonite, baby?” He secures the helmet on her head and makes sure it fits by tilting her head this way and that to check for wiggle room. When he’s satisfied, he raises the glass panel and murmurs, “and yours are prettier than mine.”

“Mhm,” she blinks blearily up at him, and his heart expands three times its size in his chest.  “And you really think so?” 

“I know so.” They share a small smile, and Harry’s nose is pink from the cold and the warmth of her gaze. He swings a leg over to straddle his bike, and scoots forward to make space for her, and pats the seat behind him.  “Come sit behind me, love.” 

Y/n grabs the hand that he holds out for her, and clumsily takes the seat. 

“Now hold on to me. Hands around my waist,” There’s a strange pitch in his voice, and he has to clear his throat before speaking. Y/n listens to every word he says and places her hands on his waist so lightly, they might as well not even be there. The touch, as innocent as it might be, makes him squirm, and to hide it, he grabs them, and brings them around so she can splash her own fingers at his belly button. “Tighter, sweetheart. I don’t want you to slip off. If you don’t want to see, you can press your face into my neck, okay.” 

“Okay,” she peeps. Harry pats her hands and turns his key in the ignition. 

“Ready?” With his ankle, he kicks the stand up, and looks over his shoulder to check in on her. The muscles in his stomach are doing a strange tightening and flexing because they don’t know how to act normally under her touch.

“Yes.” 

She squeezes her arms tightly around his waist, and she can feel her face pressing into his back as he starts his engine to take her home.

*** 

“Who were those people?” 

It seemed as though removing her from the situation (Harry hates even thinking about the word because it wasn’t a situation, it was a fucking catastrophe that the poor little thing had to go through what she did) had been the best thing to do. From the looks of it, y/n was having a pretty normal high now, asking him if he had anything to snack on that was sweet and tart because she was hungry and her mouth was dry. 

He kept himself well stocked on berries and fruit for this exact reason, so while he stood at the aisle in the middle of his kitchen cutting strawberries into nifty little hearts and tossing them into a bowl with freshly rinsed raspberries and blueberries, y/n sat on the barstool, watching him and humming a little tune. She was much different from the way she had been fifteen minutes ago, when they had just walked into his house, blubbering about how she was so sorry that he was losing sleep because of her, and how she still didn’t feel right. It took ten minutes of holding her in his lap on the couch (he still felt overly warm at having her so close to him),  shushing and cooing at her, letting her know that everything was alright while stroking her hair, and another three before she stopped crying, and let him know he had a nice voice that tickled her spine and that she had the munchies. 

Not that she called them that, of course. Harry doesn’t think she had ever heard the term, given how she knows fuck all about drugs and being high, just said “I’m hungry, h. Do you have anything tart and sweet? It feels like there’s a dragon in my belly.” 

So he chucked, rubbed her back as he slipped her onto the spot next to him, and let her know that he had just the thing, and that he would be right back. But that didn’t stop her from trailing behind him like a duckling imprinted on her new human, pitter-pattering all over his tiled floor.

He hopes that she doesn’t feel like he’s prying, because while he was curious to know what compelled her to keep that kind of company, he wanted to know anything about her. This just seemed like a good segway into her. 

Y/n is bobbing her head side to side to keep time with the cat clock he has up on the wall. She’s matching pace with its swinging tail, and clicking her tongue every second, pausing only briefly to say, “my co-workers,” in a chipper tone. 

Casually, he hums, “The ones that bully you?”

“Yeah!” She’s quick to respond, and quick to realize what she confirmed. Meaning she also realized Harry knew something she had never told him about, and this confuses her. Snapping her head away from the clock, he watches as her shoulders droop and she takes in what he said. The gears were turning clearly on her face, when finally, she spits out her question warily, “Hey… how’d you know that?”

Harry froze mid-strawberry heart. He couldn’t exactly say that he had been asking Mitch about her, and that had told her about her relationship with everyone at work because then that would make him seem more like a creep and less like a love-struck infatuated fool,  but he also didn’t want to lie to her completely. He had to stick with a little white lie,  “umm, Sarah mentioned something about observing shitty things happening at work, and she mentioned your name.”

“Oh,” y/n’s lips form a little pout, “Are you mad?” When those words come out of her mouth, the possibility of him seemingly being mad at her starts overwhelming her senses, and she starts sputtering again, “I’m sorry- I’m just- I feel off, I-I shouldn’t have eaten that brownie. I’m sorry. You probably think I’m a wimp.”

With sympathetically pursed lips, Harry shakes his head and gently soothes her worries, “I’m not mad. Y’just having a bad trip, sweetheart. It happens sometimes, even to me. When you’re not in a comfortable environment, it happens.” He finishes with the final strawberry slice, and slides the bowl across the way for her, “this is for you, should help with the munchies. Want some water?” 

“Please and thank you,” she mumbles around a bite of pink fruit. Sliding a glass across the table, Harry stands across the island to watch her. Y/n hand one hand wrapped around the small bowl, and the other holds fruit to her pouty red lips, swollen by the assault of her teeth. A trail of juice glistens down the side of her finger, and he watches, transfixed, as a pink tongue flicks out to lap up the mess in one, two, or three, tiny licks. A thick glob of saliva collects at the back of his throat because she's moaning, too. Little satisfied hums of pleasure and barely audible sounds of suction don’t escape him. 

Blood rushes to the center of him, tenting his pants and he has to go somewhere because fuck she might see it if he has to get close to her. 

Clearing his throat, Harry averts his eyes and tries to find somewhere else to set his eyes. Anywhere else because it’s so easy to picture his the ruddy mushroomed head of his cock pressed against her mouth like the tip of the strawberry heart, glistening with the moisture of precum and strings of her saliva as she wipes away his mess with her tongue like an eager little puppy. 

What was wrong with him? She needed his help, and had turned to him when she needed him. She had already had people pouncing on her, she didn’t need someone else chasing her skirts. 

“S’good, Harry,” y/n gulped down the last few pieces, and Harry blinked. Hard. “Can I have some more?”

There was a wide, lazy feline smile on her mouth. She looked… hazy. A bit sweaty. Disheveled.  Y/n looked freshly fucked, and stray drops of fruit around her mouth were making it so incredible hard for him to breathe, “no more lovie,” he managed to say, “or you’ll get a stomachache.” 

“Okay, H,” y/n yawned, unfazed by his rejection. Unaware of how crazy Harry was about her right now. His composure was fraying by the second. His mind played visions of them together like little prophecies, his tongue licking a stripe across the side of her face as he pounded her from behind so hard her eyes teared up. Her nails left little marks on his back from where she tried to grab leverage to bounce faster in his lap. Her skin dipping where Harry pawed at her to bring back against his dick. Fuck, he had to go into the restroom and tuck his boner into his pants. 

“Sleepy?” He rasped, voice trembling, eyes glued to her glassy doe eyes, “come, I’ll show you to your bed.” It was easier to be quiet and gentle with her. A calm version of him meant a restrained version of him. Clean as opposed to filthy. Good instead of bad. 

Her bed was really his bed. In his hurry to angle himself in such a way that she won’t see his raging erection, she forgets the state of disarray his bedroom is in. He walks slowly so he can hear the pitter-patter of her feet trailing after him, and stops at his door. Opening it, he inwardly cringes at everything inside. Blankets strewn all over the expanse of his mattress. Untucked and unaligned. One of his pillows on the floor instead of on the bed, and a rolling tray with crumbles of weed and baked mango bits on his bedside table. 

Harry rushed to that first, not wanting her to see anything else related to drugs. So much for a first impression. What a way to enforce the bum-drug dealer stereotype. 

“Promise m’not this messy,” he grumbles, picking up loose t-shirts and sweaters off the floor as he goes to turn on the lamp (swipe the tray away before she has a chance to see it), “it was a rough night. Was having a hard time sleeping.” 

Y/n squeaks behind him and he turns. She’s still standing by the doorway, “t-this is your bed?” 

Oh, God, she hates it. Harry starts swiping blankets off the bed to remake it for her. What was thinking, giving the sweet girl a messy bed?.“Yeah. I know it’s a little messy but I promise the mattress is comfortable. I bought it last year because I was having back problems a-”

“Where will you sleep?”

He starts tucking cover on the edges of his mattress, trying to be quick about it so she can see it’ll be neat for her. “On the couch, lovie.” 

“B-but… this is your bed?” y/n poses it like a question, but Harry can hear the guilt in her voice because she would be taking his bed. 

“I know that,” smiling softly at her, he shakes out and fluffs the pillows. “But I want you to sleep here instead. It’s much better than the couch.” 

“Are you sure?” Her fingers tangle at her navel.m

He nods and tucks the used blanket under his arm to take to the couch with him. “More than, sweetheart,” Looking at her attire, he pulls open his drawer and grabs some items for him and a few for her, “want to change into something else or is that okay for you? Can give you a sweater or a t-shirt.” 

Eyes lighting up at the large black shirt, y/n reaches out and points to it, “Can I have a shirt, please?” 

“When you ask so nicely, how can I say no?” Harry doesn’t mean for it to come out the way it does. But it happens, low and gravelly like the drag of a big cat’s tail on a cave floor. He sees the way her cheeks burn with his effect, and his cock throbs in his pants. He needs to get out of the room.  “There’s a restroom down the hall if you have to go, and an extra toothbrush in the cabinet. I’m gonna sleep right outside, so let me know if you need anything, okay?”

Y/n nods, “Okay.” 

The moment he closes the door slightly behind him, his hand clutches his ground, shifting it sideways so he’s not pressing up against the zipper. 

It was going to be a long night. 

***

Harry wakes up to the sound of mewling. 

Which is strange because he doesn’t own a cat, and high-pitched whimpering sounds are coming from… his bedroom? They’re muffled because his door is half closed. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes- if you can even call it that, he was tossing and turning because he couldn’t focus on sleeping knowing the object of his main thoughts is only a few strides away- Harry swings his feet off the side of the couch and pushes off with his knuckles. The sweatpants he had on dragged down low on his hips, the slant of his Adonis belt, and the thin skin right above the base of his cock visible. Sleepily, he tugged them higher and pressed the door open to check in on y/n.

And he felt his heart stop in his chest at what he saw.

Y/n was writhing in his bed, the sheet tangled between her legs and she was naked. Her face was flushed with tears, her chest choked up with sobs she was trying to keep down by biting on his pillow. Her hair was wild from her erratic movements caused by… well Harry didn’t know what. 

He rushed to her side, “Y/n! Y/n, baby.” 

A gasp wrenched itself from her chest, eyes were blown wide so that he could see how red they were, swollen at the waterline. She yelped like just his touch hurt him, and after removing his hands to ease her pain, Harry frantically ran his gaze all over her body, looking for anywhere she might be hurt. To see if maybe she had had some kind of reaction to the drugs she had taken. 

“What is it, love? Talk to me,” he whispers, not wanting to scare her even more. His thick brows are furrowed heavily, eyes heavy with concern and a touch of sleep. He had never felt so helpless before, at a loss for what to do. He wanted to cradle her close to his chest and rock her sweetly until her crying stopped. 

Y/n keened, whiny and long, “I’m sorry, Harry.” 

“Why are you sorry, lovie? Tell me what’s wrong so I can make it all okay,” he rubs a hand across her head, featherlight but enough to brush the hair away so he could see her clearly. She turned to him, following his touch with her nose like an animal searching for the warmth of touch, and then curled deeper into herself, hands clutching at her navel, “do we have to go to the hospital, y/n?”

“I was hungry, H,” y/n shuts her eyes tightly and gulps a breath of air, “but you said no more.. and there were brownies in the drawer.” 

Harry rubs her back, transfixed by y/n’s bizarre actions as she moans at his touch. Cocking his head to the side, he mumbles what she said, “brownies in the…” 

Realization dawned on in. 

No, no, no, no. Looking at the bedside table that previously housed his rolling tray, it now was covered with two, blood-red pieces of crumpled foil crumbs of chocolate dotted around the trash. The words Kitty-kat Brat in a sensual, curly font stamped on the side. A script of warning on the side said that each partner should only consume a fourth of the brownie every hour as desired and that after consumption, the effect would only be sated by the exhaustion of endorphins. And at the top, in a glitter color: aphrodisiac. 

Y/n had consumed two aphrodisiacs that Harry kept for himself on the occasion that a partner might want to experiment with them. The poor girl was hurting because she was… so fucking horny. 

“Oh, lovie,” Harry sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. What the fuck was he going to do? Leave her? No, he couldn’t do that when… when her pussy was weeping for attention. Call someone else to help? When help meant she would get fucked so hard she’d be cock-dumb? Absolutely not. But also, Harry didn’t feel right touching her when she was clearly under another influence. And if he didn’t feel right doing it himself, why the fuck would he let someone else do it? With a curled knuckle, he hooks her chin and forces her to look at him,  “can you tell me exactly what it is you’re feeling? S’okay, don’t be embarrassed.” 

Y/n shuts her eyes and tries to yank her chin away, but Harry tightens his grip, pinching the sides of her mouth so she can’t move, “can’t do that, H.” 

It’s laughable really, he thinks. How whiny she’s being when her actions are the reason she was in this position. He had told her no more, and did she listen to him? No. In fact, she went looking through his drawers and ate his brownies, which he did not give permission for her to do. 

If there was one thing that got him riled up, it was girls who didn’t listen and then cried at the consequences of their own actions. 

He chuckled at her, even though he was surprised at the change in his feelings about the situation, but he couldn’t find it in him to care anymore. Here he was, thinking she was this innocent little thing. And she eats his fucking sex brownies. Shaking his head, he taps her cheek with his finger to get her to pay attention to him, “I need to know what’s happening so I can find some way to help. Aren’t you hurting, baby?”

Keening, back arching off the bed, she cries, “So badly, Harry. My… pussy hurts. I’ve already cum so many times but nothing I do is working!” Blood rushes to his dick at the lewd confession. How long she has been in here with her fingers rubbing her cunt with him just outside the door. Muffling her moans so he doesn’t hear them. The thought makes him groan internally. “It doesn’t feel right.” 

His voice is low and gravelly, filled with a hunger that was kindling in his loins in preparation to spread like wildfire. “What doesn’t feel right?” He asked. 

“Me doing it myself,” she swallows wetly, and her hand comes up to grip his wrist, Her thighs are chafed from how urgently she keeps rubbing them together, and through the lace of her bralette he can see how hard her nipples are. The glassy look in her eyes isn’t just from tears, it’s a reflection of how deep her need goes.  “I-I… I want someone else to do it. I want you to do it.” 

Little crescents of broken skin are left in her wake, and he lets her. The sting of pain is keeping him centered at the moment. The sound of her harsh breathing, rustling of the mattress springs from all her movement, and the bursts of circling motion at her hips are testing him. He wants to squeeze the tip of his dick to alleviate some of the aches that are settling there. “You want me to do what, sweet thing?” 

 “I want you to help me, H. Please?” Blinking at him blearily, y/n pouts. She was begging him. 

Crooning to her with a condescending pout of his own, Harry cups the side of her face and runs a thumb under her eyes were tears have started falling once more, “help you what? Use your words.” 

Y/n huffs and sobs, her heels sliding against the mattress, “help me cum! Please, I can’t take it anymore.” 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Look at me, y/n. I said look at me,” he shakes her by the grip he has on her face gently to get her to snap out of the whining and whimpering. Needing her eyes on him so that he could read her, he asks “Are you sure about this?” 

“Yes, yes. I am. Please do something.” 

“Ask nicely.” 

The girl is back to mewling, taking the hand on her face and moving it down to her legs so that Harry would get the hint, “please touch me, H.” 

Y/n pulls him down onto the bed by his hand, and Harry lets her tug at him until he’s sitting down next to her before he pulls out of her grip and grabs both of her hands in one. Placing them above her head, he looks at her pointedly, eyes dark, so she doesn’t move her hands from where he leaves them. Big hands splayed wide across her trailed down the sides of her waist and stopped at her hips, rubbing gentle circles, “Open y’legs, don’t be shy now. M’just gonna help, and I need to see what I’m working with.” 

Briefly, she mumbles some kind of complaint, the remnants of any modesty making themselves known, but Harry wasn’t having any of it. He waited, glaring at her almost, until she allowed her thighs to fall open freely, and he hummed low at the back of his throat. Sliding his palms up the inside of her thigh, he began to talk to her in a tone that many didn’t get to hear, “want my fingers, lovie? Or my mouth? Don’t think you deserve my cock for being naughty and touching something that wasn’t yours. Only good girls get my cock.” 

“Everything, H. I’m sorry, won’t do it again. Give me anything you want,” y/n weeps, her hands in a fist above her head digging into the pillow that is halfway out of its case from all her moving around. 

“Think I’ll pet y’weepy cunt first, hmm? How does that sound?” Harry bites back a moan and feels the tip of his dick rubbing against the inside of his sweatpants. Reaching down to adjust himself doesn’t seem like a priority when his girl is beneath him with her legs wide open and pleas are falling from her lips for him to touch her. The inside of her thighs are irritated, the black gusset of her thin underwear stained white with the cream of her pussy. He wants to press his nose against her and lick her clean. His mouth is watering for him to do something of the sort but instead, he hooks her underwear aside and… 

And his own hips buck forward against his will. She’s so slick, it's running down the seam of her ass and onto his bedsheets. Drops of her creamy cut sit on the edge of her hole, accumulated from her previous orgasms. Y/n twists uncomfortably and pants. Harry, wanting to hear her cries again, smears her cum with two fingers around her entrance, and slides them into her pussy. 

“Perfe- oh, God.” She clenches around him, and he can feel that spongy place brush against the tip of his finger the second before she starts twitching from an orgasm. Her mouth drops open in a silent scream and her head tilts back into the mattress. Harry smirks as she cums from one touch, and his own jaw drops at the amount of moisture that comes out of her, dripping onto his knuckles. 

Guiding her through it, Harry continues moving his fingers at a steady pace, bringing his thumb up to the hood of her mound to press against her clit, “Oh, y’poor thing. Just a touch and y’already gushing on m’hand? Thought I was gonna have to try for it. Y’cum this easy for everyone, lovie, or jus’ me?” He leans over her with a hand braced beside her head and whispers into her ear,  “how ‘bout I work f’the next one?” 

Ripples of need were running down his spine and to his groin but he focused all of his energy into paying attention to what made her react the most. Listening for the hitch in her breath. He dragged his fingers out slowly, curling them on the inside of her wall as he did so where was persistent pressure leading up to her g-spot, and y/n made an animalistic noise mixed between a whine and cry. His tongue lolled against the side of her ear, the skin hot and flushed from the heat of her body. Harry nipped the tender flesh of her neck and waited to hear her yelp to soothe the sting with his tongue. Kissing his way down to her throat, he presses his fingers into her as far as they go and runs circles around her clit while keeping steady pressure on the bundle of nerves inside of her. He’s rubbing her inside and outside, slowly, slowly, and then starts picking up the pace. 

Y/n is mewling, her tits in the air as her back lifts up in a hold.  Her moans are becoming louder, her pussy tightening around his fingers and he knows she’s going to orgasm again. He’s mumbling how good she is being for him against the side of her breast, his nose holding back the flimsy lace as he leaves the plush skin and fights the urge to cant his hips into the bed like a dog in heat. He feels hot everywhere, like the heat turned on by itself in his room, and when y/n’s fingers curl into his hair and pull as she cums again and screams his name he can’t find it in him to reprimand her. Harry just talks her through it. 

“Good girl, y/n. Y’being so good for me. Think you can give me another, lovie? Because I want one more. Y’gonna give me one more, okay?” Cooing at the way she digs her head back into the pillows and shakes her head, Harry increases his rhythm so that the muscles in his bicep flex with every move. She’s still spasming around him from the orgasm she’s riding, but he doesn’t let it end, “ah, you’re so cute, saying no but this little cunt is weeping yes. Who am I to deny her, hmm?” 

She’s adamantly shaking her head no, eyes lulling shut and her mouth slacks with a cry, “too much… too much, h. Sensitive, please-”

“Weren’t you begging for it earlier, y/n? M’only giving you what you asked for,”  Harry thinks he could cum just from watching her body tense with unyielding pleasure. Her eyes are rolling into the back of her head and Harry is back to fucking her fast and hard with his fingers while licking and sucking on her nipple, “that’s it. That’s it right there isn’t it, baby? Abusing y’special spot so it’s too much for you, hmm?” 

He’s muffled against her skin and the sound of her wet pussy being penetrated by his fingers is so filthy, his own eyes roll into the back of his head. He takes a deep breath and smells the sex on her, the tanginess of her juices zinging his tastebuds, and god he has to taste her. 

“Yes, yes, please, Harry,” y/n is anguished, heels set firmly so she can meet his hand halfway, and she's so erratic he can’t focus on anything else but the furious pace she’s set. 

“Gonna cum, baby?” Harry groans, moving one of his legs so one of hers is in between his, and the movement of her shin against his crotch makes him pant. Every muscle is tense with a restraint that is slowly melting away. With every rub of her against him- she’s doing it unknowingly, and he’s rutting against her- he’s closer to spurting in his sweatpants. 

“Mhm,” her affirmation drags out into breathless gasps as the weak squeeze unclenches and clenches all over again as another orgasm rolls through her. 

He can’t take it anymore. He removes his hand to give her a chance to recover, takes the hand covered in her cum, and sticks it down his pants. Hissing at the relief he gets from squeezing himself from base to tip has him seeing white. 

“Good girl, baby,” stroking himself, he nuzzles against her chin. He wants to kiss her but he wants to talk them both up into a frenzy. “Took it so well, let me treat y’little pussy right. Does she still want more?” y/n nods, sniffling and scrunching her nose, “you do? Want my mouth or my fingers next, lovie?”

“I want more than that. It’s not… not enough,” she whimpers. 

Harry cocks his head to the side and thrusts into his hand once more before going to touch her again. He’s painfully hard, and the catch of his tip against the terrycloth fabric inside is overstimulating him. “Not enough? I made you come three times and it wasn’t enough?”

“Give me more, Harry, please I-I need it,” y/n angles her hips in his direction again. A thin film of sweat coats her skin, and the baby hairs at her temple are sticking to the skin. Her eyes are red, but she’s not crying anymore, and a line of clear snot trails into her upper lip that she keeps sniffling. She looks thoroughly fucked now before Harry’s even stuck his cock in her. He cleans her face with the edge of a blanket and kisses her under each eye. Before he can right himself again, she pulls him back down by his hair and presses her mouth against his. Little pecks at first, and then she’s licking at the seam of his mouth, all the while Harry just smirks. He doesn’t kiss her back at first, and when she starts to cry about it, he leans in and devours her mouth. 

He’s brutal in his kiss, sticking his tongue in his mouth and knocking his teeth against hers. She tastes sweet, like chocolate and strawberries and weed. Y/n melts against him, opening up her lips to him and licking back like a cat. When they separate, a string of saliva connects their mouths. 

“What do you need? Hmm? Want my mouth and my fingers, too? No?” He hums low, pretending to think of naughty ways to get her off, when in reality, he’s already thought of a million and one, “want to ride one off on my thigh? Rub that wet thing between y’legs all over mine and leave a sticky mess behind? Y’might give y’self a burn, but that’s what you get for poking into something y’should have.”

“No. I’m sorry, H, just please- help me-” she pleads meekly. 

“I want to help y’lovie, but y’gotta tell me because I’m running out of ideas here,” before he can finish her sentence, she makes a frustrated huff and buries her head into his neck. Y/n wraps her leg around his, trying to pull him on her but all she manages is to lift herself up and grind her molten core on the hard ridges of his abs. An absurdly loud moan resonates throughout the room, and Harry groans at the way she ruts into the air, a pull in his abdomen demanding his dick makes contact with something. Her hands find purchase on his shoulders, and Harry has to remain tense while she uses him as leverage to push her hips up so her clit drags against the ridge just below his belly button. He’s being mean, watching her struggle and pant, sweat gathering at her temples and between her tits, but he can’t help but watch her use him. She’s so focused on trying to get herself off, it’s almost like he’s not even there as long as he isn’t moving. 

The way he watches her is so nonchalant, it’s almost as if he’s not a few touches away from cumming himself. He merely smiles lazily at her efforts, mumbling lame encouragement and telling her she was so cute while she puffed and struggled to get herself off. She couldn’t keep herself touching his abdomen for long enough to pick up a pace. When she starts to tire out, her pants turn into frustrated huffs, and her thighs quake from exertion. 

Harry chuckles, “y’need help, baby? Y’were doing just fine before. Didn’t seem to need me then.” 

She sulked, and the expression on her face was only missing the stomping of feet to resemble a tantrum, “You’re being mean!”

“Oh, darling,” he soothed, licking the salty drop of moisture that fell from the side of her eye in frustration. He wanted to keep toying with her until the only word she knew was his name in different volumes and tones, but if his own dick was hurting this badly without an added stimulant, he can’t imagine what she was feeling. He gently kissed her lips and pulled away before her eager tongue made an earnest effort to deepen their connection. “don’t cry.”

“It hurts,” y/n turned her head to the side, into the pillow to cover her face, and mindlessly ran her hands across his shoulders. A smattering of gooseflesh covered her, and for some reason, it softened him. 

“Here, why don’t we try this,” he moves them so swiftly, so she’s on top, her legs on either side of him, her center sitting atop his belly button. Harry decides that he’s going to let her have her fun for a while before taking control. “Better, lovie? Like this?” Her jaw is slack from the contact of the muscular ridges, her clit grazing against the indent of his abs as guided by his hands on her hips, dragging her back and force to set a rhythm. Hurried ah-ah-ah’s are choked out from her, and y/n tries to go faster, her thigh muscles straining against Harry’s grip. And he lets her go. 

With his elbows planted on the bed to support himself, he flexed his core and smirked in satisfaction when she mewled and humped him erratically, muttering that it felt so good, how she was so close. There had never been a time like this before, in which he practiced such restraint, but just gazing at her was enough. He began to pant with a savage abandon, entranced by the bouncing of her tits, the little huffs of breath that interrupted her cries. Precum leaked out of his dick and made a dark sport on the gray fabric of his pants at the feeling of her wet pussy rubbing against him. Using him to get off. This sweet angel who had been scared to look him in the eye at one point, who didn’t know shit about drugs, who had captivated him before he knew her name, was using him to get off. He had never felt so lucky. 

“Go on then, use me,” Harry canted his hips up to press against her as she came down on him, and groaned when the tip of his dick touched her ass. “Give this pussy what it needs, baby. Whatever she wants,” grabbing her thigh, he stroked her, swiping up and down and skating his thumb on the tender skin that wasn’t touching.“Can I rub you right here? She wants me to touch her, will y’let me?”

Nodding fervently, so eager, “Yes, please. Anything you want Harry, need to going to-”

“Cum all over my belly?” Harry suggested, his palm stopping where her thigh meets her hip so that his thumb could reach her clit and swipe against it as she moved. Her hole fluttered against him, and then he felt her start to clench, grasping around nothing as the beginnings of another burst build inside her. His thumb flicked her bundle of nerves faster, rolling longer in bursts of two or three, and then she stilled, her thighs spasming from an orgasm announced by the shout of his name. “Look at you, y’shaking,” he whispered in awe, his hips stuttering when she feebly tried to rock against him while still cumming, “and you still fucking want more.”

“Make it go way, H,” y/n pleaded, her shoulders twitching from the continuation of the orgasm she had previously. The dim lighting in the room makes it hard to see but he doesn’t miss the way she arches her back and pushes her tits out. His mouth waters at the thought of sucking them again, but he wants her to be filthy. As filthy as his thoughts were getting. 

“No.” He says, taking his hand away and watching her pussy shudder against him as he cuts her orgasm short. 

Y/n whines low in her throat and lets her body fall forward. She rests on top of him now, her head by his ear. Her mouth is hot against his ear when she mutters wetly, “please.”

“You’re gonna do what I just did again, and again until it stops,” Harry rubs a hand up her back, through her shoulderblades and up the nape of her neck until his fingers are deep in her hair, and tightens his grip to keep her still from licking his jaw. He yanks her back so her face is a hair away from him, their noses a centimeter from touching, “or until you tell me exactly what you want”

Gulping, her head bobs up and down and her tone becomes pitiful, “Kay. Please.. can you… unbutton your jeans, please?”

“I said y’ have to tell me, not take what you want, y/n.” He feels try to slowly inch forward to kiss him. 

“I know! I know!” Shutting her eyes tightly and whimpering when Harry pulls her back to stop her movements again, her high-pitched tone of voice sounds like music to his ears, “m’gonna go again, I promise, but your buttons are hurting my… butt.” 

There's a beat of silence, and then he kisses her nose. Let's go of her hair, and tucks his hands behind his head like he's kicking back for a fucking vacation and not like if she accidentally touched his cock one more time he would cum. “Y’cute, lovie, go ahead, then. M’only watching this time.”

“S’not fair!” Y/n complained but reluctantly started moving over her own lubrication. Harry was so wet with her arousal that the filthiest suction noises were coming from where their skin touched. The insides of her thighs were hot against him, and he imagined it was from the irritation. Later, he would have to apply the cream to them. But he wasn’t going to touch her then. Not when she was being so bratty after he made her cum several times. 

Cocking an eyebrow, Harry growled “what’s not fair is you ate my sex brownie, y/n, but I’m not complaining, am I? What if I wanted to fuck someone else senseless, eat out their sopping cunt, and have them beg me ‘more, h, s’not enough’? Have them mark me with their cum like you’re doing right now, and play with their clit till they can’t talk properly?” She didn’t like what he had to say“Oh, I see, y’don’t like that, do you, baby? I’m doin’ these things with you, s’not enough?” 

“No!” A warmth spread in Harry’s chest at her disapproval of him doing things to someone else, at the thought that they shared the same possessiveness. 

“What more do you-” she lifts her hip and inches back, and then she pulled his sweatpants down and come down in such a way that her folds were fit snugly against the angry red tip of his cock. He hissed and stilled, “Y/n, what-”

“Want this, h,” y/n whispered and rolled her hips against him. That was all it took. One touch of her pussy on him and hot, thick white ropes of his cum were spurting between them. A long animalistic groan thrummed in his chest, the tightness in his core snapped and so did he. He grabbed her with a curse and held her still as he fucked out his orgasm, his dick sliding between her folds furiously as the orgasm continued like it would never end. Moaning as he watches her bite down on her lip, climbing up on another climax as moisture burst on the length of his cock. She was quivering, grinding against him as much as she could so prettily. His blood was boiling at it felt like he was going to have heatstroke from how warm he was everywhere, but the pleasure was lighting up each of his nerves and he could care less if he died right after. 

“My cock?” He snarled, his lips pulled back so he looked like the animal he was being. Puffs of air were sifting through his nostrils harshly, but he kept dirty talking her. “Y’naughty little thing, lookin’ like a fucking wreck with me sliding in between you like this, fuck, sucking me right in.”

“Feels so good,” y/n panted, her hands on his wrists at her hips. Her touch was featherlight on him, and Harry knew she was getting to the end of the brownies. 

“Does it, baby?” 

“Yeah, you’re so warm, it-it feels really really good,” bits of her words disappeared with gasps that took her oxygen away. She was so flushed, her skin damp with sweat. 

“Is that all you know how to say?” He slows his movements, and instead of moving her over him, Harry thrusts. His member setting a harsh, punishing pace that would have him reaching her g-spot repeatedly if he was inside her.“Or are you just not thinking right because you want me to fuck you so badly?” 

“Yes! Yes!” 

“Say it,” snarling, he pistoned up into her, the familiar sensation of a coiling rope building in him once more. The tip of his cock between them was leaking precum, y/n’s pussy dripping creamy slick on him so there was a sopping mess between them. 

“I want you to fuck me, h,” on his name, y/n starts shaking uncontrollably, another orgasm running through her and this one renders her into a sobbing mess. Harry… well he’s moaning without reserve, eyes shut as pleasure overtakes him again. This time he savors it, slowing their bodies down so their sensual touches drag out longer. Low sobs shakes her, and she collapses beside him and starts to curl in on herself from the overwhelming sensations. Harry follows, climbing over her and turning her so she’s facing him and looking her right in the eyes. 

“I’m not gonna fuck you dumb, tonight, sweetheart. Not when you’re already stupid horny from a brownie y’took without permission. Remember what I said? Only good girls get me between their legs. And you were so, so, naughty.” He was pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses below her breasts, peppering them both and tweaking her nipples when they weren’t in his mouth. 

Y/n begins to cry, tears immediately falling at his rejection. Her beginning is desperate, “No. No, h. Please, I’ll do anything. Please, I want-” 

“I know you want to cum. So that’s what I’ll give you. But not with my dick. Gonna eat up all the honey that comes out of this puffy little hole and I don’t care if y’cum so much y’crying because your slit is numb. I’m gonna stop when I want to, understand? Nod if you understand.” She does as he asks, and sniffles. “Good. Now lay down and let me eat.” 

Her back has barely touched the mattress before his mouth is on her, devouring her like it's both the first and last meal he’s ever had. His tongue is hot on her already creamy pussy, and the taste of her has him rutting into the mattress like a fucking animal, fucking down on it like it’s her. He laps at her desperately, ears keenly aware of every moan, squeak, whimper that comes out of her. He fucks into her hole with his tongue, licking her cream before it's even fully out of her, and spitting it back out on her clit. The action makes y/n freeze, and he looks up, momentarily confused thinking that he’s crossed a boundary but…

But y/n’s head is thrown so far back he can count the veins in her neck, and her body is trembling, a restrained garble of words incoherently coming out of her in pants and Harry knows she’s coming. He blows on her clit, allowing his spit and her cum to drip before going back down to slurp at it. He focuses on that little button, suckling at it and flicking it with his tongue. Soon enough, y/n is yelping, her hands in his hair as she tried to wretch him away. It’s finally become too much. 

“Don’t you fucking pull me off, I’m not finished yet,” he momentarily takes his hands off of her thighs and wraps them around her wrist, pressing down on the tendon at the center to wiggle her fingers off his head. He tucks them under her back, and places his mouth on her once more, dark eyes threatening her as he mouths his words on cunt, “Lay down and don’t pull again or I’ll tie y’up.” 

Holding her down firmly, Harry splayed his tongue flat on her and sucks, surprised and pleased by the shriek that escaped her. Y/n is crying, saying she can’t take it, that it was enough, but Harry isn’t listening. He’s so lost in his own pleasure, the arousal he gets from her taste, the sounds she makes because of him, that he’s chasing after his own orgasm by rubbing his cock against the bed. He’s getting frustrated because he wants to get there as soon as she does, and he knows it's gonna be soon with the way she’s throbbing against his lips. 

So he reaches down and squeezes himself in a tight fist, lubrication not necessary because of how slippery he was already. The moment he does, his vision goes white, and there's a spurt of heat below his belly button, and moisture drenching the lower half of his face. 

They lay there heaving briefly, and he becomes aware that she’s no longer awake. Her breathing is stinted with hiccups from leftover sobs, but she’s asleep. The tip of her nose is red, her eyes red-rimmed. He knows she’s going to wake up tired and with a headache tomorrow, but he’ll be there with her. With the corner of a blanket, he cleans them up as much as he can and tosses that soiled sheet away, grabbing a much more clean one and throwing it over them. 

“Night, baby.” He kissed her forehead and tucked his Achilles heel close to his chest, the girl sleeping like a rock in his arms. 

[zyhkoo]

☆ we do together - jason todd x f!reader

fluff, vigilante reader, college au

you and jason work on your research paper

With patrol done, the two of you immediately slumped on the couch. Though you had your own patrol route, you loved to get in Jason’s patrol route. Not that he didn’t mind of course, he’d gladly let you patrol with him. Today’s patrol was crazy though, it definitely wore the two of you out.

Not bothering to change into much comfortable clothes, you and Jason lazed on the couch. You were sitting down while he was on the far corner of the couch while his feet laid on your lap.

Your stomach grumbled, you forgot to eat your lunch a while ago because you were so busy with your college assignments.

You looked over at him “Jay..” you called out his name. Jason, whose eyes are closed while facing the ceiling, answered “Yeah?”

You sighed, “I’m hungry.. you promised to cook.” Jason slowly turns his face to you “Told you, you said you weren’t hungry while doing the assignment.” he scolded.

The two of you were in literature degrees, in the same class, same professors, and the same lectures. So any assignments, projects so on and so forth; Jason and you would always work together.

“I really wasn’t, I snacked too much.” you retorted “Can we just get takeout?” he asks while crossing his legs. You rolled your eyes and reached the phone to your pocket “Fine.”

You looked at the clock on your homescreen, 2:30 am. Then.. a sudden realization hit you. You tug on his jacket “Jason..” he looks at you with a lazy expression “Hm?”

You looked at him horrifyingly, he checked the clock then it hit him too.

“The research paper!”

You were quickly going through the food app while Jason scrambled to the laptop “Fuck we’re only halfway.” he curses, his hand moving to his forehead “At least it’s halfway…” you pointed out.

You look for sources while Jason reads and types out whatever is needed, if anyone walked in on both of you they’d be concerned to see two College students looking like zombies.

The pizza you ordered arrived, Jason opened the box and saw the toppings you disliked on the pizza “Thought you hated this?” he said, showing you the pizza.

She groaned “Ugh, I must’ve accidentally asked for it. Whatever, give me a slice I’m starving.”

Jason remembers waiting for the letters for both your college applications. You both graduated highschool together, and now this was the bigger deal. Jason was looking forward to being in college with you, especially in a degree you both absolutely were interested in.

He remembered you pacing on the manor waiting for the mail to come while Jason told you that it was going to be alright. You wanted to be in college with him too of course, you’ve known each other since forever and you want it to stay that way.

Damian knocked on Jason’s door with two letters on his hand “These are for you, Todd. Is she in there as well?” Jason took the letters from his small tiny hand “Yeah she is, thanks.” Jason says as he closes the door.

“Is this it?” you asked “Yep, here's yours.” the two of you read in silence, he was accepted. Jason looked at you, a small smile on his face. You were still reading the contents of the letter, focusing hard “So? What’d they say?”

You turned back to him with a bright smile “I'm in! You?” he returns the smile “Got accepted too.” you pulled him to a tight embrace “We’re starting college together oh my god I’m so happy.” she says.

He wanted to experience all the bad and good things in life with you. Because he loves you, your presence just makes him happy already. At first, he wasn’t sure if he was capable of loving, but with you it was enough.

Morning passed, Jason woke up on the table. A blanket was covering him and next to him was you, peacefully sleeping on the coffee table. He looked at your features and smiled, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

You stirred in your sleep “Jay?” he looks down “Yeah?” he answered your call, you shook your head, yawning. “Nothing.” he sighs softly, playing with your hair “Just wanted to call my name?”

You nodded “Yeah.” he yawned “Well, shit it’s twelve now. Can’t go to class today.” he comments, " you stretched your arms. “It’s okay fuck the professor.” you say “We’ll pass it tomorrow.”

[hobicakess]

PLAYING DANGEROUS — (teaser)

summary: It's been almost three years since Jack in the box was caught, and no one could make him talk. No one knew his story, and what drove him to become the monster he was today. That is until you're assigned your first story. What makes you so lucky?

rating: 18+ (I'm not your mother you're in control of what you consume)

pairings: Journalist!Reader x Criminal!JungHoseok x CEO!Kim Namjoon x Detective!MinYoongi.

warnings: smut murder, blood and gore, Jack In The Box Hobi, corruption, workplace abuse, yandere characters, possessive/obsessive behavior, dubcon, short hair namjoon (yes that's a warning), black/plus sized coded reader, violence from every single aspect, police brutality, mircoagression towards woc, lawyer kim seokjin, maknae helping cause chaos, manipulation, drugs and addiction, unhinged serial killer hobi (joker vibes tbh) , yoongi hates his job, namjoon loves his job (he gets to piss you off everyday)

authors note: howdy hotties! this fic was heavily inspired by this post, i don't think it'll be 30 chapters but something about it just spoke to me and itched my writer brain. even though the mc is black coded anyone can read ofc!! I can't wait to write for this series. if you'd like a tag pls comment below. Reblogs are appreciated and check out my other works (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)

part one

There was a manic laughter that echoed through the new station. The giggles caused shivers and goosebumps to pass through everybody in the building simply because that laughter was familiar. The sounds were admitting from the little black box that sat on your desk. In horror you and your peers that happened to be close by watch the little black clown that popped from graffiti painted the box swing animatedly back and forth. Everyone in Korea knew this clown and what it meant.

“Mr.Kim is not seeing anyone right-” you push the secretary out your way causing her to stumble on her kitten heels and she watches you stomp your way into her bosses and yours office. The door opens wide slamming against the wall causing the booksvon the shelves to tremble, some even tumbling to the floor.

There he sat Kim Namjoon. He stared at you with his eyebrow raised. Some of the buttons of his black dress shirt were unbuttoned, the glass at his side was filled with brown liquid and even more books and papers laid out messily on his desk. .

With as much force as you could you throw the giggling box at him. The impact smacking him hard on the chest but with his build you were sure that it didn't do a thing. He held it in his hands flipping it over clicking an unknown button, shutting the gut wrenching sound shut off.

“ You told me if I took this story I'd be safe,*

Namjoon sighs as if you were speaking nonsense and not about life or death. “Let's be clear here you agreed to take this story when I only simply suggested it. Besides what makes you think Jack sent this?” He was right.

Maybe your coworkers thought I'd be funny to freak you out a little more since taking on the Clown killer case, still it was a sick joke that you didn't really find funny.

“Jack is locked in a maximum security prison surrounded by guards, and guns. He's not getting out anytime soon.”

The door swung open again and there stood his assistant. “Mr.Kim turned the news on!”

Grabbing the remote he clicks on the TV that was mounted on the wall of his office. The screen lights up showing a familiar smoking building. Your heart began to speed up in rhythm as you stare at the headline

Serial killer Jack In The Box escapes from Hangsang Maximum security prison

The screen flicks again to the dark red writings on the wall that used to be his cell.

‘See you soOn honey bunches 🃏’

And that was the last thing you saw before you tumble to the ground.

©hobicakesss , please don't repost or steal my work. don't be a loser

[littlebluespoon]

Stranded - Octo!König (Part 4)

Hello! Here's Part 4, as promised even though it's the next morning for me :)

1.5Kwords, 18+ non-humanoid sex toys and obsessive behaviour in this chapter

AO3 link

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

---

(stole pic from google sorry)

Once again, you were going weeks without properly seeing König. You’d catch his shoulder disappearing around a corner or the sound of suckers echoing in an empty hallway but no actual sightings of a giant man or bright octopus. For you, life was mostly normal. Patching up soldiers, bandaging up Soap after he gave himself happy tail again and hanging out with the rest of the taskforce while on downtime,

“Soap, you cannot rocket jump in real life. You. Would. Die.” If this had been the first time you’d had to explain this to the canine hybrid you might have had a little more patience but seeing as it was not, you were ready to throw something at him,

“But whit if we weren’ human?” Soap’s enthusiasm at least was endearing. So giving him an exasperated smile you just shook your head and moved on while noting to refill your supply of painkillers and burn salves. 

It was currently just you and Soap in the small kitchenette in the taskforce’s assigned rooms, you had no patients to see and Soap had the day off given his ‘extensive injuries’ so the two of you had taken over the games console and were having a competitive tournament in Mario Kart, loser has to steal a piece of clothing from Ghost. Currently it was 2-2 and you were on the last match so now it was getting dirty,

“So was the LT around when you broke your tail?” you teased, hoping for him to take his eyes off the screen,

“Oi! At least I wasn’ the one wi’ hickeys all o’er their neck,” he fired back, smugly like he’d been expecting your teasing.

“They weren’t hickeys! …They were bruises…” you refused to look at him, knowing exactly the expression on his face having seen it far too much for your liking,

“Isnt that what hickeys are?” you decide that driving off the edge of Rainbow Road was the better option, take the loss and deal with the consequences later. 

Seeing as you have 24 hours to steal from Ghost you left Soap to his gloating and went off to find out where Ghost was before breaking into his room. After finding out from a passing corporal that Ghost was in a meeting with Price, and double checking the hall was clear so no one else would catch you breaking into your superiors quarters, you picked the lock on his door before quickly running in and grabbing the first item from the laundry basket, a shirt with his name on it. Perfect for your bet, not so great if anyone else sees however. Ignoring all of that you run back to Soap, completely missing the seething bright orange octopus attached to the ceiling above you. 

-----

Retreating to you room after dinner without having to take a mountain of paperwork with you was a luxury but seeing as the 141 hadn’t been called out in several weeks, you’d had plenty of time to catch up on it. Which means your plans for the night were finishing your current read and maybe starting a new one if there was time. Of course those plans depended on you getting to your room, it seemed like every four or five steps you were stopped by a Kortac soldier,

“Do you know where the colonel is?” “Do you think you could look at something for me?” “I want a second opinion on this rash,” “Could you..?” “Would you..?”

By the time you escaped them your plans of finishing your book were out the window. However as you approached your door, all your plans went out the window. There was a box outside your door, plain brown, not small but also not massive. It looked like it held a water bottle or something. The hallway was empty and there wasn’t anything to tell who had left it but given that you were on base you were pretty sure it wasn’t anything dangerous so as you closed your door you decided it could wait until after you’d gotten changed into comfier clothes and out of your uniform.

The nondescript box didn’t have much weight to it so you were expecting it was maybe mislabelled bandages or some other medical dressing so when you scored open the box you were surprised by the nice stationary. High quality textured paper, a subtle peach colour with typed lettering;

Think of me My Heart

An odd note but what was even odder was the other object in the box. A bright orange tentacle. About as big as your fist, with a marbled look of orange and teal, and made of silicon. Someone had left you a tentacle shaped sex toy. Upon recognition a yelp leaves your mouth and you’ve thrown the box across your room before you had even realised you’d moved. You know exactly who sent it, you just couldn’t understand why. You barely know each other, you don’t even think he’s said more than 10 words to you outside of missions or commands. You’re the medic on base with the most aquatic hybrid training, that’s the only reason you see him so often so why would he do this? Or maybe he didn’t, maybe it’s a prank? It could be Soap getting back at you for teasing or even Ghost for stealing his shirt or maybe even a Kortac soldier trying to rile up their colonel or something. It could have been anything, it was probably just a prank because you didn’t want to even entertain the thought that König had sent you this. He was a friend, it was a tentative relationship but you called it friendship as after everything you’d been through with him it was a little hard to just call each other acquaintances. It’s a prank, so you boxed it back up and shoved it to the back of your wardrobe to be never seen again.

Trying to get to sleep was difficult. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and every time you turned around it felt like the blankets were suffocating you. After an hour of this you decided to check your room, turning on all the lights, opening all the doors and doing a well-known routine to you. Unlock, open and check, relock. You did that with all the cupboards, you pulled your bed apart and reorganised your desk, kit bag and wardrobe. Nothing, there wasn’t a thing for you to be paranoid about and you’d made sure of it. Climbing back into bed exhausted, you settled into the blankets and closed your eyes. The blankets no longer heavy on you, the hairs on the back of your neck were soft and yet, you still felt watched.

-----

In the bright light of the morning the box looked no different and thankfully your paranoia had waned, so there was no interruption to your morning schedule. Not until you had you leave your room, which is where you found another sheet of peach coloured paper, folded next to an envelope. The fear stopped you in your tracks. Once again there was no one in sight, no noises to indicate a person either and you hadn’t heard anything while getting dressed. Deciding to deal with it before breakfast seemed like a smart decision at the time because if you’d known what was in the envelope after breakfast you were sure you’d never have kept it down;

My Dearest Heart, 

You must think me a cowardly man for this but I felt this was the best way to approach you. I could not hear you last night, were you holding in your heavenly sounds so that no one else might hear? You need not worry Heart, I would never let anyone else near you. Not even the feral Lieutenant you seem so fascinated by. I do hope you liked my present and that you enjoy this one too, although I admit these were more for my pleasure.

With all My Love,

Your Soul

You could feel your heart escaping from its cage with every word you read. You were a soldier, you’d been in battle, you’d nearly died. There had been scarier moments in your life than this. So how was it this is the only time you’ve ever wanted to curl up in the back of a cupboard and never face the world again? You didn’t want to open the envelope. You never meant to open the envelop but your hands were shaking as you moved to stuff the letter with your first unwanted gift. It slipped and that’s when you discovered it wasn’t sealed and its contents had spilt all across your floor. Pictures of you were scattered across your floor. You; eating, working, training, in the gym, in the shower and even in your bed. You had been watched. Someone had been watching you for months.

[zucchinitart]

LJ and his mommy!!

created some new lore for him!!:

As I’m sticking to the idea that he was created by the heavens, I decided to create this giant lady!!

So the lore goes-

A few angels were chosen to create and send off mystical beings meant for “troubled” children, and two of those chosen angels created LJ!! They’re angel twins that go by the names Ila and Mila. Ila is the lady shown above, and she is very much a sweetheart. She absolutely adores LJ and strongly believes that he’ll succeed in his job and help Isaac Grossman, the “troubled” child assigned to him.

The two angels teach him everything they can and think is necessary within one human year, and then they send him off to Earth!! However, once LJ leaves heaven, he will forget them and heaven entirely until he succeeds his mission. If he succeeds, he’ll depart from Isaac, go back to heaven, and get all his memories back.

Typically, the mystical beings are meant to finish their job within 15 human years. But as time passed by and more mystical beings returned, LJ did not. Although it’s forbidden to check on their creations in the mortal realm, Ila decided to see what was happening with LJ. Much to her dismay and as we all know about LJ, he was abandoned, and he subsequently failed his mission.

Ila did not see it this way, and rather blamed the heavens for allowing such cruelty to happen. She tried to comfort him in his box with a spirit of her hand, but Ila is forced back to the heavens by her brother, Mila. (Btw jack has no idea what that hand was and thought it was a hallucination…but it gave him a lil hope!!!)

Mila reprimanded Ila for her actions, saying she’d die if she gets caught. They have an argument, but Mila ended up siding with the heavens on their decision to give up on LJ. He hoped that Ila would side with him so they wouldn’t get killed, but she falls into despair and tries to go back.

Ila gets caught the second time and gets punished with extermination.

Mila loved LJ just as much as Ila, but he knew he had to fake his feelings to stay alive. However, the idea about LJ suffering and Ila’s death finally broke him, and Mila tried to save him as well. It seems someone already knew about his plan though, as he gets caught before he can do anything.

They both die in vain as LJ continues to suffer. The heavens then determined that LJ will be like a message sent from above meant to punish the humans for their sins, and they allow him to wreak havoc however he pleases.

TL;DR- LJ has parents but also not rlly!! Unfortunately, they both die trying to save him 😞

I rlly just created this lore to make his story more sad. He’s never gonna see them or remember them again 💀 I also thought it would be cool if he had a giant, mystical mommy for some reason!!

Might scrap this cuz it kinda makes no sense but anyways!!

[metalhoops]

Everyone who’s touched grief knows it’s bigger than two hands can hold. The inexperienced try to string together the right words to lighten the load and those who grieve wear a momentary mask of comfort, feeling instead heavier. Those who’ve experienced grief know there are not enough words in the world to replace something as simple as a small action. 

You don’t remember the platitudes and false virtues strangers assign to the dead, but after a long day when you find your fridge full of precooked meals, you’ll remember who dropped off the potato salad. Max was sick of people who didn’t know her, telling her how kind her brother was. How funny he could be. How talented he was. 

No one, save the rare few, know what to do with complex grief. Max didn’t know how to unpick her thoughts, let alone put them into words and hold them up for someone else to see and understand. That didn’t mean she didn’t want to be understood.

She didn’t know how she could miss someone so deeply while being in some small part, glad they were dead. No one tells you what to do when your thoughts betray you. 

By the time Max and her mother moved into the trailer park, people had stopped telling her how much they missed Billy, which was a small blessing. They’d also stopped dropping off food or offering to do their laundry. Max and her mother had been too proud to take anyone up on that offer, but she missed the thought. 

Two months had passed, and it felt like everyone forgot Billy existed, that anything had happened. Lucas and the other boys had started asking her to hang out again. The unspoken grace period given to her and her mother for mourning had ended. Now it was back to business as usual. Her mother returned to work, and Max was left alone in an empty trailer full of boxes. 

That was when Steve arrived with a Tupperware container under one arm and a fancy untouched toolbox under the other. 

“Figured you’d need some help,” the boy muttered, kicking off his shoes, not waiting to be invited in. 

He knew better. If he’d asked, Max would’ve told him to piss off. She couldn’t understand why Steve of all people was able to read her moods so well. 

Steve hadn’t been much help rebuilding the furniture, but he’d supplied the Allen key and screwdriver so she couldn’t complain. He was good at unpacking boxes. With the two of them working, the task had taken a day, as opposed to the week it would’ve if she’d done it on her own. She was meant to be in school that day, but she couldn’t bring herself to go. She’d expected that to be the last she saw of the older boy but instead, he made a habit of checking in on her. 

Steve kept dropping off meals. After a week he started driving Max around on the days the mere mention of school threatened to topple her. Sometimes she’d hang around the back of the video store. On other days he’d drop her off at the arcade and she’d play Dig Dug until her eyes burnt and her fingers cramped. 

She didn’t know exactly when it’d happened but somewhere along the way, she found herself getting strangely attached to the guy. She’d lost one brother but gained another. 

That was why when Steve stopped driving home at night, she’d sent Eddie to get him. 

Max didn’t know much about Eddie Munson. His uncle and Max’s mother infrequently drank coffee together at the communal picnic tables. Nothing ever happened. Max knew her mother and how she acted around her boyfriends. This was different. They just sat together, mostly in silence, watching the sun go down. It kept her mother from drinking so much or so early. What Max did know about Eddie Munson was that he owed her. 

One night when her mother was out, the cops came poking around the trailer park, asking her if she’d seen anything suspicious. Max wasn’t dumb, quite the opposite. She knew Eddie sold drugs. She also knew the cops wanted to pin something on him. She wasn’t altogether sure why, maybe there was some pressure to put someone behind bars from the kinds of places that had neighbourhood watches. 

It was only when crime started to leak into the suburbs that people went searching for the culprits. Some rich kid spikes a girl’s drink in Loch Nora and the next thing you know, they’re looking for drug dealers in trailer parks. The guy will get a smack on the wrist, while Eddie? He’ll get thrown in jail and the people of Hawkins will sleep a little better at night, knowing all is right and just in the world. Until the same guy does it again. Then another trailer park kid is marched off to the stocks. 

Max had learnt how the world worked young. It’d been out of some strange sense of solidarity that she’d kept her mouth shut about Eddie. When the cops split, she’d given him the heads up to keep his nose clean while there was blood in the water. She hadn’t done it for a favour. But if nothing else, she was opportunistic. 

Steve wasn’t driving home most nights. Max knew because she’d take note when the Beamer shot past the trailer park. Some days it was in the dead of night, others, the early hour of the morning. He wasn’t staying over at girls’ places like she’d first thought. Even if he wasn’t the golden boy he’d once been if someone slept with Steve Harrington, the whole town knew within the week. 

She’d followed him one afternoon, riding her skateboard at a safe distance. He’d drive around, past their houses, as though on his own neighbourhood watch. He’d finish his patrol and pull up at any number of odd locations, the train tracks, the junkyard, the woods. At first, she’d worried he, like Billy, was possessed. After long days of silent observation, she realised the kind of ghosts that possessed Steve were of his own making. 

Max didn’t know what to do until she saw the light on in the Munson’s trailer past midnight. She stalked across the way, pounded her fists on the fly screen, and called in a favour. She asked Eddie to check on Steve. He’d looked at her like she’d grown a third head but agreed. 

Eddie Munson didn’t do favours but Red was a good kid, so he’d made an exception. He began his quest by driving past the Harrington’s manor, hoping for his own sake to find the BMW parked in the drive but Max had been right, Steve wasn’t home, nobody was. 

Eddie was tempted to check all the usual spots he’d go if he were a meathead jock with ample time and money. There was skull rock, the notorious Harrington make-out spot and a has-been jock party was going on in the next suburb over from Loch Nora, but Red’s instructions had been clear. If Steve wasn’t at home, she’d rattled off a list of places he might be, each one growing stranger. 

That was how Eddie Munson ended up in the junkyard. The place was surprisingly well-lit, despite the late hour. He worked his way through an overgrown thicket, cursing himself for wearing his white Reeboks. He’d be scrubbing out grass stains with a toothbrush for the next week. 

Mounds of trash and scrap metal shot out of the dried grass like rocks rising from the ocean. Amongst it all, burning bright as a lighthouse was a rusting yellow school bus. It stood in stark contrast against the blue, black night. A dull glow bled out of the vehicle’s shattered windows. 

Eddie found himself drawn to the little island of light as a moth flocks to a flame. His feet moved swiftly, eager as a young child at the prospect of adventure. He slipped in through the half-open door of the bus and was greeted by another body slamming into his. 

Eddie’s head cracked against the metal bus frame, making him groan. It wasn’t until he tried to move that he realised there was something sharp pressed against his neck. Against all his better judgment Eddie swallowed, feeling a broken bottle nip at his skin. 

Eddie’s eyes flickered to the wielder of the weapon. A once mighty king had fallen like his surrounding kingdom, into a state of disrepair. Steve Harrington. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

“Harrington,” Eddie spoke, keeping his voice soft and even, as though speaking to a wild animal that could startle. 

There was a manic look in Steve’s eyes Eddie knew well. He’d never thought he’d see the ghost of himself dance across such a pretty and foreign face. The days before Eddie moved in with Wayne were better left alone. He knew the wide-eyed vigilance of people who’d grown used to fending for their lives. It was a look he’d never imagine Steve Harrington capable of. 

A glint of recognition shifted over Steve’s face and the eyes of years long past were gone as though a trick of the light. The bottle disappeared from his neck, shattering as it dropped against the floor of the bus. 

“Shit, Munson. Sorry,” Steve uttered, moving out of Eddie’s space. 

Eddie was surprised Steve remembered his name. Across the six-odd years the two had gone to school together, Harrington had spoken to him a grand total of three times. The first, to ask for a pencil in Spanish. The second had been a disgruntled ‘hey, man’ as Eddie sidestepped his lunch tray on one of his biweekly jaunts across the jock table and the third, which Eddie only now recalled, had surprised him. 

He’d gotten a D in history. It’d been the final nail in the coffin, solidifying the fact that he’d once again have to repeat his senior year. Eddie spent the rest of the class carving his name into the underside of his desk with his thumbnail until it was bloody and covered in splinters. 

He’d almost lasted until the end of class before he had to excuse himself with little plan of where he was going or what he was doing. He knew he wanted to get away, that he needed to be anywhere but there. He wasn’t sure what’d tipped Harrington off but as he shuffled past the former king’s desk, his eyes downcast, a hand shot out to snag Eddie’s forearm. 

“Hey, Munson? There’s always next year,” Steve muttered under his breath.

From anyone else, it would’ve sounded condescending, but Steve genuinely meant it. Eddie hadn’t known what to say. He’d felt a sudden lump rise in his throat. He took off, thinking it’d be the last time he’d see Steve Harrington. He’d wished he’d been so lucky. 

“So, Harrington, what’s someone like you doing in a place like this?” Eddie asked when his heart rate returned to a regular rhythm. He heard a snort escape Steve’s throat as he leaned back against the opposite wall of the bus. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” 

Eddie wanted to know when Steve had started to sound so world-wearied. Nineteen-year-olds shouldn’t sound so worn thin. The closer he looked at Steve, the more he saw. His eyes were chaliced with the kind of purple, blue bruises that came from weeks of sleeplessness. There was a pale pink scar, slicing a line from his bottom lip to his jaw. In time, it’d fade into obscurity, but for now, in the cold of the night, it stood out like a crack in fine china. 

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked, sliding down the wall to a seated position, as though once again settling in for the night. Eddie heard glass tinkle and grind under Steve’s body. 

Had his parents kicked him out? Was he hiding from someone? Eddie knew fuck all about Steve Harrington and he’d liked it that way. Screw not doing favours. Red owed him one after all this was said and done. 

“Finding a new place to pedal goods. New chief of police has been riding my ass,” Eddie lied. It wasn’t as though he was going to tell Steve he was sent on a fetch quest by a fourteen-year-old. 

A flicker of pain shifted across Steve’s face before disappearing. It was a moon sinking below the horizon line, leaving no trace of the momentary night as a false smile painted his face the colour of a sunrise. 

“Can’t say I’d recommend this old rust bucket. Isn’t drug dealing in a junkyard a little cliche?” Eddie rolled his eyes and sank to the floor of the bus, nudging Steve’s foot with his. 

“Keep giving me lip and you’ll have to pay double.” 

Harrington never brought from him. The freckled asshat, he used to hang around with would buy weed once in a blue moon, but never Steve. 

“You got anything on you?” He asked to Eddie’s surprise. He hadn’t exactly come prepared. He searched the depths of his pockets, finding two small ziplock bags and half a pack of rolling paper. He threw them Steve’s way. 

“On the house. Looks like you need it,” He mused and watched as Steve’s fingers worked, quick and methodical. Hagan had obviously shared his stash with Harrington.  

“Got a light?” 

Eddie fetched his Zippo from his back pocket and leaned over to light Steve’s joint. The guy looked surprised. He should’ve handed the lighter over. Too late now. 

Steve’s lips were poised so close to Eddie’s fingers. His face illuminated by flame, caused Eddie to shift closer. He lifted a hand to Steve’s cheek, acting under the guise of trying to shield the flame from the breeze filtering in through the broken windows and half-open door. 

“You got anything stronger?” Steve spoke, breathing a plume of smoke into the night air. Eddie wasn’t sure it was wise, but he’d never counted wisdom as his strong suit. 

“Back at my place.” Steve snorted, smoke billowing from his half-pursed lips, his eyes beginning to haze over. 

“People’ll talk.” 

People always talked when it came to Steve, but surely not in the way the boy was implying. Ramrod straight, Steve Harrington couldn’t make a gay quip, not about himself. Maybe he was embarrassed about what being seen with Eddie could do to his dwindling reputation. 

“I’m pretty good at keeping a low profile,” Eddie supplied, and Steve nodded stoically. 

“Stealthy, like a ninja,” Steve replied. 

It was Eddie’s turn to choke out a laugh. Goofy had never been a quality he’d assigned to Steve Harrington. He supposed the trait had its charm. It worked on Eddie. 

“Like a ninja,” Eddie echoed. 

When he’d said yes to Red, he’d assumed he’d drag Steve’s likely-intoxicated, ex-jock ass home and call it a night, but looking at the boy across from him with the joint tucked between his lips and the thousand-yard-stare, Eddie had to admit there was a change of plans. 

“Have you heard about the world’s best ninja?” Eddie asked, his once pristine shoes nudged themselves beneath Steve’s Born in the USA style blue jeans. 

Steve shook his head, a flicker of curiosity dancing over his face, his stupid floppy hair, falling in his eyes. 

“That’s why he’s the best,” Eddie insisted and felt his insides grow warm when Steve cackled. He was pretty when he laughed. He looked more like the guy he’d been back in high school, more carefree. 

Eddie wasn’t a stranger to sitting with people and talking them down on their worst nights, but a relative stranger was new. 

Eddie stood and extended a hand to Steve. The boy clasped onto his ringed fingers and pulled himself up. 

“My van’s parked half a mile up the way, you coming?” Steve shrugged and followed close at Eddie’s side.

The two walked in relative silence, standing so close their hips played the role of balls in a Newton’s cradle, knocking against one another in a rhythmic pattern. 

Back in the familiar landscape of his van, Eddie was once again hit with the strangeness of the situation as he watched Steve slide into his passenger seat, snubbing out the remains of the joint in the ashtray. He thought of their spit mingling in the little petri dish and pushed that thought aside. He’d always been good at holding back those kinds of thoughts. It came with the territory. 

“Why do you need something strong?” Eddie asked as he turned the ignition. 

If he’d learnt anything from his uncle, it was that hard conversations were best had behind the wheel. That way no one could storm out. He’d admitted to his uncle he’d failed his first senior year as the two sat at the juncture between Maple and Main. He’d come out to Wayne along Lakeside Dr. 

“Why did you really come to the junkyard?” Steve countered. He was smarter than he looked, or at least, smarted than Eddie had assumed. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Eddie quipped after a second, watching as a bemused smirk twitched onto Steve’s face. 

“It’s been a hard year, man. Hard couple of years,” Steve confessed. Eddie wasn’t going to let him get off that easy. 

“Is this to do with you getting unceremoniously shunted off the top of the Hawkins’ High totem pole?” Eddie asked.

He had a feeling whatever it was ran far deeper than just popularity, but this was Steve Harrington. Steve was pretty and popular. He wasn’t allowed to have real problems. That’s not how the rich and stuck-up operated. 

“Honestly? No. Think that might’ve been a good thing.” Steve drummed his fingers against the passenger door. 

“Then was it the thing with Wheeler?” Eddie asked, watching Steve cringe. Maybe he should leave it alone. 

“Part of it. I don’t know.” What followed was a loaded silence. 

Eddie kept casting glimpses from Steve to the road, watching as his face screwed in concentration as he searched for words. 

“I feel like it’s my job to protect everybody,” He admitted, his voice barely raising above a whisper. 

“And I don’t know how. I feel like I’m supposed to have all the answers but I just... I feel like a kid, who’s in way over his head.” Steve pulled his knees up to his chest, and settled his chin on them, not daring to look in Eddie’s direction.

He was a year older than Steve and he felt like a lost kid most of the time, as though he was an imposter masquerading as someone who knew what the hell he was doing. He wondered if that feeling ever went away. 

“Red sent me to check up on you. The kid’s worried,” Eddie confessed watching as Steve’s head snapped to look in his direction. 

“She’s got enough on her plate without worrying about me.” 

Steve didn’t need to say what Max was dealing with. Eddie knew. Hawkins was a small town, and Billy Hargreaves was infamous. Eddie had a bad feeling about the guy from day one, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel sorry for him, dying in a mall fire. Hell of a way to go.  He’d heard rumours Max had been there when it happened. Then again, he’d also heard talk of Steve slinging ice cream at the mall. Eddie could see a picture beginning to form. He didn’t like it. 

The two didn’t speak for the rest of the drive back to Eddie’s trailer. There was nothing left to say. Steve continued to tap his fingers absentmindedly, so Eddie leaned over, turning on the radio. The tape deck played the thrashing guitar and pounding beats of the latest Slayer album. Eddie liked it well enough, but he cringed, preparing for Steve to chew it up and spit it out. He didn’t. He shut his eyes, rested his head against the passenger window and promptly fell asleep. Eddie would be damned.

Unsure of what to do with the sleeping boy and the blaring music, Eddie drove in circles around all the familiar back roads of Hawkins, steering clear of the potholes and dirt tracks. It wasn’t until Eddie’s eyes started to droop that he called it a night, pulling up outside his trailer, flicking his floodlights twice in the direction of the Mayfield’s, letting Max know he’d gotten Steve home safe. Well, he’d gotten Steve to his home safely. 

Eddie was contemplating the logistics of getting Steve out of the car when the boy began to stir. His eyes fluttered open for a second to meet Eddie’s before he groaned and turned to bury his face into the car seat. Damn it all. Eddie had managed to go for years without developing a crush on Steve, it wasn’t goddamn fair he was about to do it now. 

“Good morning, Starshine,” Eddie teased, walking around to open the passenger door for Steve. 

“Welcome to my humble abode. I have drugs or you know... a comfortable bed. Pick your poison,” Eddie spoke as the two made their way to his trailer. 

As they stepped into the main room, Eddie watched as Steve’s eyes scanned the place, lingering on Wayne’s collection of mugs and novelty hats, a ghost of a smile on his face. Eddie grabbed onto Steve’s wrist and led him down the hall. 

“The drugs and the bed are in my room,” Eddie explained as they went. 

Eddie nudged the door to his room open with a flourish of his hands. 

“This is where the magic happens,” Eddie explained and watched as Steve quirked a brow. 

“Mind out of the gutter, Harrington. I was talking about literal magic.” Eddie smirked gesturing to his stack of Dungeons and Dragons’ manuals, handbooks, and campaign notes. 

“You’re such a nerd,” Steve grumbled flopping onto Eddie’s bed. 

Maybe it was the high that’d made him seem looser, but Eddie liked a Steve who took charge. He crawled under the covers, making himself at home in Eddie’s bed. 

“Demogorgons suck ass,” Steve uttered after a moment, his face muffled by Eddie’s pillow. He wondered if he’d fallen asleep on the ride home and driven them into a ditch, because there was no way Steve was in his bed, talking about D&D. Eddie liked demogorgons, something he elegantly articulated by muttering,

“You suck ass.” As he flopped beside Steve in bed. Steve snorted.

“That’s one thing I haven’t tried,” he confessed. Yes, he was high. Eddie couldn’t imagine a sober Steve making that confession openly. 

Eddie settled on top of the covers, hyperaware a sober Steve might not be as receptive to waking up beside Eddie. He was in over his head. 

“Are you okay with this?” Eddie questioned as he rolled over to lay on his side, propping his head up to get a better look at Steve, half smothered in his sheets. As much as people talked about Steve’s love life, they also talked less favourably about Eddie’s, or his lack thereof. 

“You’re not going to punch me in the face in the morning?” Eddie concluded, voicing his concerns. His heart was tugging him closer to Steve, but he wasn’t willing to do anything they’d both regret. 

He’d been shockingly open to letting the boy into his innermost sanctum. Maybe he had a saviour complex, but he wanted to know how much of a commitment the two would have, how long was the piece of rope that tied them together? Was it a momentary truce or the start of something? 

“No,” Steve breathed after a beat, seeming equal parts understanding and offended Eddie had asked. 

The two lapsed into silence. Eddie was left wondering if Steve had fallen asleep again, but the rise and fall of the boy’s chest was too shallow. Steve eventually let out a groan and rolled to face Eddie. Whatever momentary reprieve had allowed him to sleep in the car had passed. 

Eddie’s gaze was once again drawn to the growing blue beneath Steve’s eyes. He had stuff that could help Steve sleep, but he knew from experience, drugs could only do so much. They were numbing jell on a knife wound, a momentary relief from pain without fixing the real problem. 

“Can’t sleep?” Eddie spoke, trying to get inside Steve’s head, to unpick what was going on with him. Steve nodded miserably. 

“Anything I can do to help?” Eddie wondered. 

There were no guidelines for the strange turn the night had taken. Steve opened and shut his mouth, gaping like a fish on dry land. He had some thoughts, it appeared, but none he was willing to voice right away. Eddie felt strangely endeared to the boy in his bed. He’d give him anything he asked, even if he didn’t think it was smart. 

“Is it true, what people say about you?” Steve asked after a long pause. 

That wasn’t what Eddie had expected. He blanched and watched as Steve’s eyes swelled, his panic rolling off him in waves, crashing head-on into Steve. 

“Never mind, don’t answer that. Christ, that was invasive. Sorry,” Steve fumbled, sinking further beneath Eddie’s sheets to hide his face. It appeared it was a night for confessions.

“Were you asking about the satanic shit or the gay thing?” Eddie spoke candidly, his fingers knotting in the covers. 

You didn’t come out to just anyone. You sure as hell didn’t come out to someone like Steve unless you had a death wish, though Eddie was quickly learning the Steve Harrington that existed in his head and the one lying in his bed were two different creatures. 

“Forget I asked,” Steve repeated, rolling over to turn away from Eddie, a faint flush dusting his cheeks. 

“I don’t worship the devil and I’m not gay,” Eddie found himself confiding.

He watched as Steve’s body went still. Eddie couldn’t see his face, but he could tell his mind had kicked into overdrive. 

“Oh, cool,” Steve spoke sounding suddenly distant, as though that hadn’t been the answer he was looking for. Eddie didn’t know Steve Harrington at all. 

“But I’d be lyin’ if I said you were the first guy I’ve had in here, Steve,” Eddie continued, giving away more than he’d intended. 

Steve peered over his shoulder and quirked a brow. He didn’t look shocked or disgusted as Eddie had anticipated. He looked relieved. 

“Like Bowie?” He wondered aloud. Eddie couldn’t help but roll his eyes. 

“Yeah, like Bowie- I mean, I have a preference. Guys suit me better, I guess. But sometimes a girl’ll surprise me.” 

The conversation felt intimate, surprisingly more so than when he’d admitted it to the guys in Corroded Coffin. With them, there hadn’t been follow-up questions. The guys had been supportive, but they hadn’t known what to say. It’d been another fact about Eddie they’d taken in their stride without much acknowledgement. He hadn’t felt the need to explain himself. He didn’t know why, but when it came to Steve, he felt like he needed to explain the whole thing in intimate detail. 

“Me too,” Steve muttered, sounding entirely unlike himself. He was quiet and unsure; two traits Eddie had never assigned to the Steve that lived in his head. 

“I mean... for me, girls are easy. Guys are... new?” Once more, Steve sounded unsure. 

“Maybe not new because it’s always been there but I just left it alone.” Eddie wondered what’d spurred on the change, whether it was a near-death experience or something else entirely. Eddie was good at reading between the lines. 

“Steve, I’m going to ask you again, okay? What do you want me to do?” 

Steve sucked air in through his teeth, gripped the sheets and finally let his shoulders sag. 

“Can you just... hold me, for a bit?” Steve asked at last, sounding as though Eddie had placed a loaded gun to his head. Of all the things Eddie had been expecting, that wasn’t it. 

Eddie moved closer, lining up his hips and Steve’s back, throwing an arm around the boy’s waist. It was different. Eddie was used to closeted guys wanting to have sex with him, but they didn’t hang around long after. 

He thought back to Steve’s words. The guy wanted to protect everybody, from god knows what, but who was looking out for him? He hooked his chin on Steve’s shoulder. He smelled faintly of cologne and something chemical, hairspray. 

“This okay?” Eddie clarified. Steve’s body felt stiff and unresponsive in his arms. 

Steve hummed. It took him a moment to relax but when he did, he practically melted into Eddie. The boy pushed back, fitting their knees together. Eddie was thankful they’d decided to keep their jeans on, fearful of what any more skin-to-skin contact would do. Steve cradled Eddie’s palm to his heart and dropped his chin to his chest, so Eddie could feel the ghost of the boy’s breath dance across his fingertips. Steve was a renowned good lay, but the Harrington charm went deeper than that. The guy was good at cuddling, something Eddie hadn’t thought was possible until he had every inch of Steve pressed and curled against him. 

“This okay for you?” Steve asked after a moment, his breath tickled against Eddie’s knuckles. 

“Great for me,” Eddie confirmed sounding as breathless as he felt. 

Steve’s heart beneath his hand thundered, letting Eddie know the boy wasn’t as cool and collected as he was pretending to be. He didn’t point it out. He did two things very out of character for Eddie Munson. He remained still and silent. Steve’s breath grew deep and even. Eddie leaned closer, pressing his face into the nape of Steve’s neck as the boy began to whimper in his sleep. 

“I got you,” He assured. 

“You’re safe. M’not going to let anything happen to you.” Eddie promised. 

It took time, but Steve settled and at last, Eddie let the long night swallow him whole. 

Max decided Eddie Munson was useless. She’d watched him pull up outside his trailer around three and she hadn’t heard from him since. She’d thought the idiot would at least give her a heads up on how things had gone with Steve, but it appeared she had to do everything for herself. 

At 10 a.m. when there was still no sign of life from the Munson’s trailer, save for Eddie’s uncle pulling in around six, Max stalked over and wrapped her knuckles against Eddie’s bedroom window. After a moment a mop of curly brown hair popped into view. 

“Wha?” The boy grumbled, still half asleep. 

“How did things go last night?” Max asked, taking the tone of a scolding mother, talking to a very small, very dumb child. 

“Good,” Eddie confided a goofy grin crossing his face. It confirmed Max’s suspicions. Everyone else, save her, was useless. 

“Well, where the hell was he? Did you talk to him? Did he seem weird? Is he okay?” Max rattled off a list of rapid-fire questions only to be hushed by Eddie. 

“He’s sleeping, Red. Keep the volume down.” 

Max opened her mouth to ask what the hell Eddie was talking about when she caught a familiar glimpse of styled, sandy hair peeking out from beneath the sheets. Max, unlike most people, wasn’t an idiot. She’d grown up in California, she knew the way the world worked. She didn’t need anyone to spell it out for her. 

“Gross,” She grumbled. Not because Steve and Eddie were both men but because Steve was like her older brother and Eddie was- she didn’t want to think about it. 

Max let out an elongated sigh, squared her shoulders and spoke. 

“You like scary movies, right Munson?” He seemed like the type. 

Eddie nodded. 

“Michael Myers hasn’t got a thing on Max Mayfield. You do anything stupid with Steve and I’ll show you how I got the nickname Mad Max.” 

Eddie swallowed thickly and nodded. It was all for show, but someone had to say it. Someone should always be in Steve’s corner. Max had the feeling Steve wasn’t used to people looking out for him. She knew the feeling.

“Sir yes sir,” He breathed, faking a salute. Max rolled her eyes. 

She had a feeling she was going to regret bringing Steve and Eddie together but when hours later, Steve showed up at her house with a Tupperware container full of spaghetti and a secret smile on his lips, she had to admit, for once she might be wrong. 

[shalotttower]

Sweetcheeks

Title: Sweetcheeks

Fandom: Black Christmas (1974)

Summary: You've been getting these odd calls for several months now.

Word count: 2000+

Characters: Billy Lenz x Reader (female)

Notes: Yandere!Billy (I'm not sure if there's a point to specify it, seems like his normal state), stalking, voyeurism, explicit and degrading vocabulary, some regular Billy perversions, NSFW, noncon touching, implied noncon by the end.

You've been getting these calls from a stranger for several months, ever since you moved into the sorority house. When the phone rings, what you might hear is easy to predict: creepy panting accompanied by lewd remarks. There's a breathy, slightly raspy voice on the other end; Hello, sweetcheeks, whatcha got down them pants?

He calls you that, "sweetcheeks". Says your name as if it were the loveliest word ever. "Naughty girl," he croons, "let me lick your hot cunt". Nasty bitch. Angel. He has an extensive collection of nicknames, and keeps expanding it with every passing day. Some of them are quite creative, others made your skin crawl at first, but eventually you got used to his bizarre expressions.

He never gets tired of these calls.

The sorority girls named him the Moaner, because he does it quite a lot - moans. Moans and says obscene things, which make your face flush in a hot wave of pink.

"Did you think of me?" he asks.

Do you ever think of me?

"I could-" he groans those filthy words, and you want to wash your ears with soap, "fuck your brains out. Dirty whore. Your... mmm."

You slam the receiver down. It always happens when least expected. In the middle of a conversation with other girls, during study hours, when you're cooking or getting ready for bed, he calls. There's no pattern, so it's impossible to anticipate; normally you just answer the phone when there's no one else around or let others tell him to fuck off.

Today is almost the same as usual, with the only exception that you don't pick up.

What follows can't be described: the unbearable, insane trilling of the phone ringing without a pause. You don't want to go downstairs, there're finals, tests and assignments weighing heavily on you and no time to indulge the ever-breathing presence behind the line. So you don't. Luckily, a set of ear plugs from the local pharmacy helps a lot.

***

You don't bother answering for the whole week, yet despite your neglect he still calls as if desperate for something you can't place.

***

If only Billy could tell you how sweet you look when getting ready for bed. Through the attic floor cracks he sees every small detail of your routine, the room which is nice and smells of a woman - clean, soft with the hints of perfume, it makes him want to bury his face in your sheets.

If only Billy could tell you how exhilarating everything about you is. From the way you move through the day to the sound of your bare feet padding on the wooden floors in the evening. His favourite part is when you shake off your jeans; it's a clumsy movement which makes your ass wiggle.

Billy has a small box where he stores the pieces of your life. There's a receipt from the bakery, two pencils, a silver chain that broke off from your neck and he grabbed it like a treasure, a lip balm. You are all his, every bit of you in those little things you leave behind, even if you don't know it yet.

He knows so many things by now. What time you usually go to shower (late at night when all other girls are asleep), what you are going to wear in the morning (he saw you ironing a blue fluffy sweater and a checked skirt). He knows what's in each of your drawers, from cosmetics to panties, soft cotton that smells like laundry detergent.

The box is hidden carefully in the dusty corner of the attic. Sometimes he opens it, caressing the items you left so carelessly on the desk or bathroom counter - they burn his fingers.

You have a mole under your left breast, a beauty mark on your inner thigh. He also knows that you haven't been answering his calls for a week.

Engrossed in your books with sticky notes, you don't even pay attention to the ringing when he's trying so hard. Too bad Billy can't read, letters dance before his eyes, mocking him with their squiggly shapes; maybe he'd know what exactly is keeping you so occupied if he could. He heard some girls talking about upcoming finals but didn't understand what that meant.

Billy knows how to handle a girl who doesn't answer the phone, a naughty, mean girl who ignores him and gets under his skin like the itch he can't scratch, irritating, driving him crazy.

Patience is a virtue - that's what they told him in the looney house, but it must've been a lie. Patience won't bring you closer, he thinks, sitting cross-legged on the attic floor with a phone clutched in his palm. Patience won't help him touch you, lick your soft skin and hear you moan for him. In the cramped space smelling of old wood, dust and cobwebs, patience only leads to days crawling by like sluggish worms.

He knows how to handle the girl who doesn't answer his calls, but you do look tired, the shadows under your eyes are too heavy and prominent. Billy watches you rub your temples for the fourth time in an hour, yawning. He's seen this gesture before, saw you massaging the back of your head after reading for too long.

He likes watching you when you think no one's looking, because then you're most honest. Just you.

Maybe Billy will let you rest. Yes, maybe...But his hands itch so much. Itchy-itchy-itchy when he holds the phone. He wants to dial your number again, listen to your breathing and tell you something that will make your voice waver in confusion, just like that time when he asked what sounds you make when touching yourself.

He strokes the cord and imagines when you'll finally start picking up again. You'll say your name and ask, "Who's this?" and Billy will laugh, because you're silly, so silly and should've known it's him all along.

***

When did it begin to snow?

You remember the sun peeking from behind the clouds a few days ago and now there's nothing but whiteness outside. White paths, white street lights and white flakes melting on the glass windows. The kitchen feels quiet today, walls drip with the evening chill which crawls inside your veins; it's a week before Christmas and the radio is playing jolly songs about sleigh bells and presents.

Something's been off lately.

Another pair of your favorite socks is gone; you bought five, but three vanished without a trace. Maybe you lost them, maybe they got mixed up with others' laundry. Yet you distinctly remember washing the two and putting them away in the drawer. Usually you're not that forgetful, but perhaps it's finals stress shows.

You glance at the clock - past six - the sorority house is mostly empty, everyone's either in the library or went home for Christmas. The last few hours passed in decorating the living room area with tinsel and ornaments, you even put a wreath on the door. A festive mood is slowly seeping in, and all that's missing is a tree. You know that one should be in the attic, Allison told you there's a lot of stuff up there. The house is old, and whoever owned it in the past had a lot of things, from clothes and books to trinkets, all stored away in cardboard boxes and plastic containers.

Sturdy and narrow, the attic ladder is hanging down to the hallway, beckoning with its crooked wooden rungs. Allison mentioned some odd noises coming from there sometimes. Probably rodents. "Go take a look, girl," she laughed and made spooky sounds, wiggling her fingers. "But don't tell me if you find something nasty, I don't wanna know about it."

Your eyes wander over the ceiling and stop at a small trapdoor. There are rusty hooks holding it closed, and you wonder if it's safe to go up alone. It's probably dirty, a real mess, but the living room looks empty and unfinished without a Christmas tree.

Just a quick look. As long as there aren't spiders swarming the corners it'll be alright.

Everything's dark up there, nothing moves and the sound of your quiet breath is the only thing breaking the silence. You pull a flashlight out of your pocket. Flick. Nothing. Stacks of boxes crowd the space, pressing together, on the side of a particularly large container is scribbled: BOX 23. You look through the labels - toys, photographs, china, books - dozens and dozens of them, some haven't been opened for years.

Dirty. Stuffy-dusty, Billy's saliva gets sticky, leaving wet stains on his sleeves as he wipes his mouth. He can see you from where he's hiding. It's hard to breathe. Harder when you bend over to open a box with Christmas decorations; you've got nice thighs. Nice legs. It's so good to have you here, sweetcheeks, you won't leave soon, pretty kitty. Dumb bitch. Sweet angel. You really should've stayed downstairs, in the warmth and light of the fireplace, instead of crawling up here into the darkness.

Into him.

You go through the attic space looking for something, and Billy thinks that your soft slippers will be covered in dust after you're done poking around, all filthy, so messy. But it doesn't matter, Billy will clean you up later with his tongue, and you can sit on his blanket while he licks your hot cunt till you scream.

Billy knows exactly what kind of sounds you'll make.

He's heard them countless times already.

A sudden clank makes you jump. Your heart flutters, but there's nothing except for shadows dancing on the walls under the ray of your flashlight. Maybe a rat? Oh, there it is. A green plastic branch of a fake Christmas tree is sticking out from the nearest pile, just what you were looking for. You tug at it, trying to free it from the clutches of old furniture and junk, but the thing is stuck tight.

Billy wants to grab you. Wrap his arms around your waist, press his face to yours and whisper in your ear that you shouldn't worry about the Christmas tree anymore, because now you're going to stay forever and ever with him. He'll let you stroke his cheek and kiss him softly on the lips before carrying you down the ladder to celebrate together. Billy will take care of it, he's always liked Christmas; there was a time when everything was different, a man dressed up as Santa brought gifts, he even remembers what he got - a shiny red truck and a candy cane.

The flashlight slips from your grasp and rolls over the dusty floorboards. You curse, crouch down and reach for it though the hole between the boxes.

The trapdoor shuts close with a loud thud.

Your hand freezes.

There's a breath. Not yours, it tickles your fingertips and the skin of your palm like a feather; it shouldn't be there - you scramble away from the darkness. Or try to. Something warm catches your wrist in a vice grip, pulls and next you're tumbling forward, right through the hole with Christmas ornaments spilling everywhere.

"Nasty piggy," says someone's raspy voice, "why don'tcha pick up my calls anymore?"

In the dim yellow of your flashlight too far out of reach, you can barely see anything, only glimpses of dirty auburn hair, brown eyes and a green stretched jumper.

It's not a rat in the attic, you think. It's not a rat, he smells like a wet dog and has hot lips which press into your throat. His hands shake as they travel up your sides, touch your breasts through the sweater, squeeze, and then he moans.

You've been getting these calls for several months now, from a stranger who pants on the other end of the line and makes obscene remarks. And you know him by voice, the one who likes talking filth and making you blush every damn day.

"Santa brought presents," he whispers in your ear. A hand slides down between your legs and cups your mound through the fabric. "Merry Christmas, sweetcheeks."

[pinastrihaven]

Pr. Cooper Adams

NSFW... +18...

@yerma69 gave me my first request and asked me to write about Cooper as a teacher. I'm quite honored and hope you'll will enjoy it.

- It didn't take long for Professor Adams to seduce you. Of course all students are completely enthralled with him and he's the subject of many discussions, fantasies. Even though everyone know they don't stand a chance: he's a married man, has two beautiful kids. He does not appear as the type of man who takes advantage of his charms. He's Mister everybody after all, right ?

- You are no exception but it was quite unexpected for you to get Cooper's attention.

You've kept wondering '' is he really looking at me like that? " during lectures for several weeks.

- Cooper started to take up a lot of space in your mind as time passed and he began to give you very subtle and soft touch.

'' Do you have any other question Miss y/n ? ''.

He would pass a hand on your back while giving you feedback for papers you just rendered, speaking very close to you, especially during small group classes... His voice is just like honey to your ears. You could smell his scent being this close to him, you could only imagine the grain the feeling of his skin. You were longing to touch and be touched by him.

- Things went south that time he asked you to stay after a class, expressing some concerns toward the subject you've picked for your memoir. You started to freak out thinking you would fail your year.

You didn't really expect him to shove his hand down your skirt and slide his fingers into your panties. M. Adams just stared at you while doing so, amused by your little panting and the fact that you were lifting your skirt for more. He did slide one finger, two then three, and started fucking you really hard, getting you to howl and scream to the point of orgasm, legs spread eagle on his desk, your arms around his neck.

He made you lick his hand clean while assuring you that he was confident concerning your progress in his class ;)

- M. Cooper Adams wants you to be his top student. Only straight A's. He will ask more results from you than from any other students. Get ready for some spanking by the end of the day if your grades are not up to his standards or if you give him wrong or unelaborated answers during class. And I mean real spanking, you asscheeks will fear his name.

'' I'm sure you can do better. '' Cooper would then tie your hair in two ponytails and give you his cock to suck. He loves to hear you chock on his girth while pulling on your hair, gasping, coughing. '' Yeah show me your tears, little angel '' he would say as your eyes tear up.

- Cooper wants you to be reachable on your phone at any time. Of course your location is on all the time and don't even think about airplane mode. He won't necessarily ask for nude photos but M. Adams wants to know your every moves. He will often facetime you and ask you to place the phone so he can see whatever you're doing. Especially during holidays and when you're at home, far away from the campus. He loves to check on you at night, during family gathering. "I want to see my bunny now. '' he would text you.

- Get ready to be fucked at the most random time and places at the campus. Mostly at his desk, but also the janitors locker, that place outdoor behind the sport court (that's where he gave you your first anal), his car. And that one time he gave you the fright of your life when he broke into your bedroom at the dorm... You still have no idea how he did that and he refuses to tell how he manage to do it. He just smile when you keep asking him.

- Professor Adams gives you special assignments. You're only allowed to wear skirts and dresses because this is what he loves the best and he can access you more easily. When you attend his class he would text you orders beforehand.

'' Hey Sweetheart, you can open the present box I gave you last time........ Yes this is a anal plug. I picked you favorite color ❤️. I want you to put it on for today's class and don't bother with panties. I want you naked down there. And pick your shortest skirt. Don't ruin your seat ;) ''.

- M. Adams loves to keep you at his desk when grading papers or writing his next course.

He would tie you with his belt and keep you pressed against his leg under his desk, petting your hair, from time to time, or pinching your tits through the fabric of your shirt. You would feel in a haze being this close to him, seeing his bulge getting bigger until he fucks you. He loves to have you in submissive positions where you can barely move or escape his hard thrust. His favorite is to have you in the Nelson position with a good headlock (those who know know ;) ).

He sometimes edges you and sent you back home all wet and desoriented.

- And because Cooper keeps his lives separated he needs to find a way to keep you near him after you finally graduated. So you barely had the choice to become his assistant which allows you to spend more time together, and get more of his treatments.

[slayfics]

Explosive Tendencies a slow burn fan fiction about the readers developing relationship with Katsuki Bakugo.

Chapter fifteen: You move into the dorms.

Chapter links

You shifted the box in your hands to get a better grip. Time had passed since your visit to Katsuki in his home, and now the school had all its students moving into dorms.

It had been a struggle, but finally, you got permission to move in. Everyone was scrambling about as you only had one day to get all your stuff situated.

The rooms were amazing. You had your own personal bathroom and balcony. It felt nice to have a designated spot for yourself, and you could tell a lot of your classmates felt the same.

You passed Mina while you walked down the hall bringing another box of your things, “Hey!” She called to you. “Once everyone’s done getting settled in, we were going to do a room competition, ok?! I can’t wait to see how everyone decorates! See you later!” Mina concluded and excitedly went back into her dorm which happened to be next to yours.

A room competition, you thought. Maybe that would be fun, but you weren’t sure you wanted all your classmates in your room. That might feel a little invasive. You pushed the thought aside and continued to put away your clothes and rearrange the room to your liking.

Once finished you couldn’t help but be curious as to how everyone else was doing… especially Katsuki. Fuck it, you thought and made your way over to the boy's side of the dorm.

Everyone was still haphazardly running around getting settled in, so no one questioned you walking to the boy's side. You're pretty sure you remembered Katsuki being on the fourth floor when Aizawa explained room assignments. It was helpful that the rooms also had designated names for the students outside.

Finding Katsuki's door, you knocked and were greeted with a frustrated, “WHAT?!”

Katsuki opened the door, eyebrows furrowed and face in a scowl. His features softened just slightly as he laid his eyes on you, “Oh it’s you. What do you want?” he asked, leaving the door open and going back to putting his clothes in his closet.

“Just coming to check how you’re doing,” you said, stepping into the room.

“Shut the door if you intend to stay. I don’t want any other extras bothering me,” he huffed.

You shut his door and walked over to sit in his rolling chair.

“Are you already finished unpacking?” he asked, glancing over at you for a moment before going back to putting more stuff away.

“Yeah, I didn’t have too much to put away. Do you need any help?” You offered.

“No,” he said sternly.

You looked around, his room was rather plain. And just like his bedroom at home, it was extremely organized. Thinking back to how his mom yelled at him that night you imagined that might be why he has such clean habits. Upon inspecting the room, you noticed an All Might poster rejected on the floor in the corner of the room.

“Want me to put that up for you?” You asked

Katsuki looked over to see what you were referring to, then snapped his head back to his tasks when he realized it was the All Might poster.

Katsuki just shrugged his shoulders as a response, which you thought to be very uncharacteristic of him. Never once had you known him to be silent.

You didn’t push him any further, sensing the unusual energy coming from him. Instead, you swirled slightly back in forth in the rolling chair watching him put his stuff away.

“Tch- just gonna watch me, hu?” He mused.

“Well, you won’t let me help.” You teased.

“You have your own damn room to sit in you know,” he barked.

“Yeah but… no one yells at me in there,” you giggled.

“I wouldn’t yell if you extras weren’t so damn annoying.” He replied finished putting away his clothes and sitting on the edge of his bed

“Speaking of ‘those extras’” you imitated his voice, “they are doing a room competition to see who has the best room,” you explained.

“Shitty hair told me. Sounds dumb,” he replied.

“Figured you say so,” you laughed.

“You can let me know how dumb it was tomorrow,” he said waving for you to leave.

“Hmm, I don’t think I’m going to do it,” you said pensively swiveling back and forth in the chair again.

“Whatever,” he said, shoulders slumping a bit. You noticed, unlike every other time you had talked to him, Katsuki never made eye contact with you. He’d glance at you sometimes, but his gaze was always elsewhere in the room otherwise.

“You feeling alright?” You asked.

“I’m fine. Why are you so damn nosey all the time,” he said, annoyed.

You would have liked to say you were worried about him, but knowing Katsuki like you did now, you knew that would only irritate him even more.

“Guess I’m just an annoying extra,” you teased.

Katsuki let out an amused puff of air.

“Hey, it was nice of you to pay Kirishima back for those goggles,” you said.

“I wasn’t being nice! I just… don’t want to owe any of you anything,” he grumbled.

“None of us did that because we expected you to owe us. You know that right?”

Katsuki didn’t respond but kept his gaze down toward the floor.

You took a risk and sat on the bed next to Katsuki. He didn’t react at all to you moving closer to him.

It frustrated you that you didn’t know how to get him to talk. If you said you were worried or commented on how his demeanor seemed to be different, he would just get angry. But it was clear to you the events he went through had been traumatic. You wished he wasn’t always so damn stubborn.

Instead of being able to figure out anything to say you just sat in silence next to him for what seemed like an uncomfortable amount of time.

“You wanted to know how I appeared suddenly to where you guys were in Kamino right?” he asked, breaking the silence and causing you to jump a bit.

You remembered he had already told you it was a part of All For One’s quirk, but you didn’t want to shut him down from talking about the event.

“Yeah-… how did that happen?” You asked, feeling yourself become excited, he was willing to talk about that night now. Again, you felt like you were dealing with a skittish cat. You had to walk on eggshells to be careful not to make him close off again.

Katsuki explained to you how back at the Leauge's Hide Out all of a sudden, this awful-smelling liquid came out of his mouth, and he was teleported to Kamino Ward. After that, he explained that the teleportation happened when Kamui Woods had seemingly trapped all the villains and All Might was confronting Shigaraki.

Katsuki moved back on the bed leaning against the wall as he explained the night's events. He mentioned that he heard what Aizawa said about him at the press conference, and how he refused to even pretend to be interested in joining the League even though he was clearly outnumbered.

You moved back to rest against the wall next to him feeling your eyes get heavy. Katsuki's voice got lower the more he continued to explain what had happened, and you felt yourself dozing off to it. You blinked hard in between his story, trying to stay alert.

You were thrilled he was talking to you about the event and seemed to be processing more of what happened, but after the long day of moving, it was hard to be energized.

The next time you blinked you were surprised to see the room dark. You looked over to see Katsuki asleep, lying down awkwardly on the bed to not get in your space.

Shit-

You fell asleep while he was talking. You stretched a bit while you decided what to do. You didn't want to wake him up by moving but- you had to leave, right?

You looked over at Katsuki and noticed his relaxed expression while he was fast asleep. It was such a contrast to his usual scowl. You almost didn't recognize him. The sight caused your cheeks to warm up.

Your blush intensified when you realized that Katsuki must have realized you fell asleep and chose not to wake you.

Your stretching and shuffled movement had been enough to wake Katsuki, who took a sharp breath in and rubbed his eyes. Opening his eyes halfway he looked over to you.

"Fuck, you're still here?" Katsuki grabbed his phone off the bed's headboard to check the time. "It's late, you should probably go. Everyone will be asleep now," he said.

"Yeah uh- goodnight, Katsuki," you said, as you started to crawl off the bed.

"Hu?" Katsuki looked at you curiously after you called him by his first name, but he was too tired to correct you or make a fuss about it. Instead, he closed his eyes to go back to bed as you quietly left and closed his dorm door.

Tags: @anon-mouse223 @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @sikuthealien @queenpiranhadon @melrs21 @poemzcheng @kazuumii @bakunianadecorazon @ur-crusty-uncle @reads-stuff-quietly @chixkadee @perfectsukii @faetoraa @fem-weeb

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Six

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Physical abuse (slapping & hair grabbing) and harassment (verbal taunts) - it’s just the scene after prom dress shopping btw; protective Jasper bc this man is definitely touch her and die coded.

Notes: This came to me in a fever dream and I woke up in the middle of the night to write it, I have no regrets.

Word Count: 2005

Series Masterlist

• March 8th, 2005 • Port Angeles, Washington •

Reader

“You guys really aren’t into this, are you?” Angela says as she checks herself in the mirror with a pretty purple gown on. Jess standing on her other side in a hot pink gown with a neckline that accentuates her cleavage.

Seeing as Bella and I don’t plan on attending prom, we’ve been assigned to be the hipe crew for the other two girls as they try on dress after dress. After a certain point they all just blend together, but I try to offer encouraging words for each one.

“We really just want to go to this bookstore,” looking at me briefly she adds, “Meet you guys at the restaurant?” Bella says as we stand from our perch by the window.

“See you guys later!” I toss over my shoulder as we exit the boutique.

I stand on the porch of the store, admiring the view of the sunset as Bella finishes our excursion by paying for the book.

The bell above the door dings, “Secured the package?” I ask her excitedly and she waves the book in the air in front of her before dropping it in her bag as we leave.

“I think there’s a short cut to the restaurant this way.” Bella suggests, pointing down some narrow stairs that lead to a dark alley between a pair of buildings.

“I’m not so sure-“

“C’mon, I’m sure it’s fine.” She reassures me before taking off down the ominous path.

I sigh and follow her, but as we reach the bottom of the stairs, a group of guys walk past the other end of the alley and immediately correct their course to start walking towards us. Panicking slightly, I grab Bella’s sleeve and tug her towards a different path we passed a few feet back.

Coming out into an empty lot, “Hey! Where are you two going?” One of our pursuers questions with a drunken slur.

“Shit.” I whisper under my breath, not letting up on the grip I have on Bella’s arm.

“What’s up? It’s our girls from the dress shop!” Another behind us yells, boxing us in.

“Hey-whoa, where you going?”

“Come get a drink with us-“ One laughs.

“Yeah, hang out with us, c’mon! What’s the problem?” They taunt us, closing in.

“You’re pretty.” Another reaches to caress a strand of my hair, but I slap his hand away.

“Don’t touch us.” Bella starts panicking, flinching from their wandering hands.

“Fuck off.” I shove another one trying to invade my personal space and he returns it with a slap to my cheek that stuns me for a second.

“Cute.” A cocky one grabs her arm, yanking her from my grip. Bella responds by kicking him in the groin and he bends over in pain.

Seeing us not giving up easily, one of the drunker men grabs a handful of hair to hold me close as his drunk breath wafts over my face, “No need to be hostile, baby.” I squeeze my eyes shut and grip the wrist attached to the hand holding my hair-

But next thing I know, a familiar silver Volvo slides aggressively to a stop a few feet from us. The two figures that emerge send a wave of calm across me that nearly has me in tears from relief.

“Let her go.” Jasper’s tone leaves no room for negotiation, face set in a murderous rage.

“Fuckin’ take her bro.” Spits the piece of shit that grabbed me and shoves me into the arms of my knight in shining armor.

“Get in the car.” I hear Edward tell us with a deadly calm, Jasper's fingers running over my cheeks and throat as he inspects for injuries quickly.

I peel myself away from him as Bella moves towards the passenger side of the car, I open the door and fold the seat forward so I could climb in the back, Jasper right behind me. Once all of us are in, Edward reclaims the driver’s seat and revs the engine at the men that tried to take us before peeling out of the lot.

“Are you alright?” Jasper turns my chin towards his worried gaze with chilly fingers, it could just be the dimly lit car, but his eyes look nearly pitch black.

I hadn’t noticed I started shaking until I shook my head in response, Edward and Bella were yelling at each other in the front seat.

Jasper closed his eyes as his hand released my chin, I watched it flex in his lap as if he were trying to calm himself down.

“Are you alright?” I echo his question quietly, but he chuckles darkly.

“I would kill every single one of them without a second thought, if you so desired. I should’ve gotten there sooner, they never should’ve been able to lay a finger on you.” A cold finger pushes a curl behind my ear, the digit leaving a cooling trail across my stinging cheek from where I was slapped.

I close my eyes and whisper, “You can’t say things like that.”

“It’s true, I’m finding it incredibly difficult to not persuade my brother to turn around.”

“Jasper-“ but he cuts me off as my anxiety sky-rockets.

“Difficult, because I need to make sure you’re okay and it’s surpassing the urge to end those low-lives.” I let out the breath that was trapped at the thought of having to part with the safety of his presence.

I catch Jasper meeting his brother’s eyes in the rear-view mirror before Edward declares, “You two need to eat something-”

Bella interrupts him with a gasp, “We’re supposed to meet Ang and Jess at the restaurant!”

Swerving in and out of the late night traffic, I can tell he’s also struggling with turning back around.

Jasper

Absolutely fucking ridiculous, the rage coursing through my body has me locked tight. I don’t even know what’s prompting such a visceral reaction, she’s just a fellow classmate.

A fellow classmate whose scent has tempted me like nothing I’ve ever experienced, a fellow classmate that is gorgeous beyond comparison…

Closing my eyes, I lean my head back in my seat with my left hand perched on the head rest behind Y/n. I don’t have the control to touch her right now, to comfort her, the emotions flying around this car and roiling in my gut have me on edge; a rubber band ready to snap.

They dared to slap her, never mind them herding these girls like scared fawns, they fucking hit her. Grabbed her by her hair-a growl rumbles deep in my chest that I try to tame, but it captures Y/n’s attention. Before she can comment, we arrive at the restaurant they were supposed to meet their friends at.

Exiting my brother’s Volvo, I reach a hand in the door to assist Y/n as she climbs out from behind the folded passenger seat. Her hand is a warm anchor in mine, reminding me that she’s here and safe. She stands on the curb, looking at her small hand in mine and as much as I don’t want to, I let it slip from my grasp. I shut the door and turn to Edward as I see Bella walk towards the two girls leaving the restaurant.

“I’m going to stay out here while you guys go in.” Y/n tells Edward.

“You need something to eat.” I protest, concerned.

“I can’t exactly walk in with two upset guys and a handprint on my face.” She says, sounding exasperated. Her emotions were a scrambled mess, so I didn’t push her decision.

Grab her a burger and fries or spaghetti, if they have something simple like that. I think for Edward to pick up, he nods confirming my request before turning to follow Bella up the walkway.

Y/n wonders a few feet away to seat herself on a bench facing the street. Before I could say anything, our classmates rounded the bushes bordering the restaurant and spot us.

“Y/n! We just saw Bella with Edward walking in, do you need a ride home?” The one I assume is Jessica asks, her emotions a little more bold than the shy one standing beside her.

“I can get her home, we’re just waiting on my brother.” I intercept their question as Y/n tries to discreetly pull up her hood to hide her reddened cheek.

“You sure?” The quieter one finally pipes up, wanting confirmation from her friend. Considerate, but frustrating seeing as they’re wasting my alone time with her.

“I’m good Ang, I’ll see you two tomorrow.” She dismisses them with a smile and a wave. They finally peel themselves away and drive off in their car.

“How did you find us?” She asks and I turn to face her.

“You need to ice that.” I nod to the mark on her beautiful face.

“Don’t change the subject, Hale.”

“We were driving by and saw the commotion-“ but she interrupts me, her own rage bubbling to the surface.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” She stands and closes the distance between us. “How did you know we were in Port Angeles? You’ve been gone from school the last few days.”

I gape at her, not prepared for her sudden fury. I’m at a loss for words yet again, I can’t tell her that Edward can read minds and we were watching over them ever since Alice saw them split from their friends at the dress shop in a vision.

Y/n turns to stomp away frustrated, but I reach out and softly grab her arm to stop her.

“Wait-just wait a minute, darlin’.”

She looks at me expectantly with eyebrows raised and I swear I’ve never seen a look so endearing.

“Well?” Y/n presses.

“I can’t explain-“

“You can though! It’s not hard to just-“ She’s yelling at me in frustration, but I stomp on her rant as my control slips.

“Don’t ask this from me!” I yell back, exasperated.

“Why can’t you let me in?” She says at a near-whisper after a heavy pause, stepping into my personal space.

“It’s easier this way.” I say in a clipped tone as I look away from her intense gaze, backing into the Volvo. I can’t let her in, I’ve never let anyone in. She’s human, I'm a vampire and that’ll never change - I can’t get attached. Taking her mortality so that I might never lose her will never be on the table, staying one step removed is the only way to keep her safe.

“Easier for you or for me?” She continues to press, “You saved me tonight, can’t even tell me how, and you want me to go back to being just your lunch buddy? Your classmate in History, like you didn’t swoop in and stop a group of men from doing god knows-“

I stop her rant by grabbing her biceps, “Stop.” I plead with her, unable to envision what would’ve happened without our intervention.

“Tell me, Jaz.” She asks desperately, somehow knowing I’m teetering on the edge.

My gaze frantically shifts over her face, my mouth open and closing like a damn fish out of water searching for the words. Thankfully my brother must sense my panicking thoughts because he’s exiting the restaurant, take-out box in hand as he ushers Isabella to our car.

“I got you a burger, I hope that’s alright?” Edward extends the container to her as I release her and turn away, collecting myself.

“Oh, that’s so thoughtful of you. Th-thank you very much.” She stutters, surprised Edward got her food to-go.

“Everything alright?” Isabella asks, concerned for her friend.

“Let’s go home.” Y/n says, ignoring the question and my heart plummets. I messed up this whole thing.

I open the passenger door and offer my hand for her to use to steady herself, but she promptly ignores it. Stubborn girl, I think as I climb in behind her.

Next

[joemama-2]

A SPRINKLE OF CURIOSITY

a/n: part two to “made with love”.

word count: 1859

toji x reader

tags/warning: angst, fluff

find part one here: made with love

toji wakes up with a pounding headache, like always. he really doesn’t want to get up but he knows he has to. rubbing his bleary eyes, he can faintly make out what room he is in. not his.

he can tell by the cleaner walls, the faint scent of something floral and a woman he doesn’t even remember the name of passed out to his right. from the view of her bare back on display, he can piece together that he had maybe a little too much to drink last night.

toji never stays long enough for them to wake up, so like routine, he finds his scattered pieces of clothing, putting them back on. it feels uncomfortable, dried semen making the boxers feel a little too tight. and like the stealthy man he is, he slips out the bedroom and apartment without much noise.

he doesn't even remember what city he's in, but he can only assume it's not close. having picked up a small job shiu assigned to him yesterday in the hokkaido prefecture, he hasn't been in the comfort of his own place for a couple days now.

he slowly walked to the nearest ATM, pulling out his card to check his balance. and would you look at that? still 0. now he’s pissed. he’s stranded in some city he doesn’t know with no money to get back and the job he was there for in the first place didn’t even pay him. those motherfuckers.

he huffs and pulls out his phone, calling his handler's number. without even waiting, as soon as he picks up, toji is quick to express his annoyance. "where's my damn deposit?"

shiu's tired chuckle sounds through the receiver. "relax, it's a weekend. won't come in until tomorrow."

of course. "then how the hell am i supposed to get back?"

"like you have a home?"

toji's eye twitches, grip tightening around the small cellular device. "keep talking, i'll rip that tongue out your mouth."

with a sigh, the other man responds. "jesus christ, you can't go one day without bitching. i left some cash in your pocket."

"how much?" toji's hand feels for the money, reaching in to grab it out and count it, balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear. "is this enough for a train ticket?"

"if you didn't use it already, then yeah."

and another huff before toji closes the screen of his phone, effectively ending the call.

so this was basically the lead up to where toji currently finds himself. after hours of a stiff chair that hurt his ass, stiff air, and the smell of elderly all around him, he practically throws himself into his small, run-down apartment and onto the mattress. there's no bed frame, hell there's barely anything inside, but it's enough for him. the tiny sheet crumples underneath his large form as he gets comfy, a small sigh escaping him.

everything is just as he left it, dishes in the sink, an old takeout box and the counter and the TV playing some who knows what show. damn it, was that on the whole time he was gone? now his bill will be even higher. there's never a moment of peace with toji, even after days and days of where he honestly deserves it.

his eye peak open, hand reaching for the remote to shut the TV off. just as the screen blanks, something instantly catches his attention. one that makes him sit up, despite his fatigue. it looks so out of place, like it doesn't belong. and quite frankly, it doesn't.

the pink box is vibrant against the cold surface of his kitchen counter, standing out like it directly has a light shone on it. it's almost taunting him, enticing him to come closer. and toji has never been one to show a lot of self-restraint. when it comes to you though, he didn't think he could try harder.

but he finds himself standing up and walking to the box. the heart drawn on top causes an eyebrow to raise as he opens it. there's nothing inside. after having got home from the encounter with you, he was hesitant to bite into the first cookie. but he's glad that he did. they tasted better than any other sweet he had tasted. the powder littered his lips and the soft jelly exploded into his mouth like fireworks. before he knew it, all five treats were gone in the matter of minutes.

but the box is still here for some reason. why he kept it and now threw it out as soon as he finished is questionable, but toji chalks it up to being lazy. because why else would he keep it? he sighs and closes the box again.

he falls back onto the mattress, eyes glued to the ceiling that has cracks and some mold growing. he really needs to move out. that thought is quickly thrown out when something else invades his brain. you.

your voice, your face, your stupid smile, and the words you told him. "love." the oh so holy pastries were made with your love. you were obviously joking, but an idiotic part of his mind entertains the idea that you weren't.

his head shakes. what are you doing? why is he acting this way about you? he barely knows you, you just own the bakery he knows. you're nothing more than a simple person who has no business getting involved with him. no, he has no business getting involved with you.

you're too kind, too sweet for him. he can't even see himself with another woman right now, not after his wife. at least, that's what he thinks. either way, there's no way someone like you would be interested in him. you probably have a loving family, a loving boyfriend. all in all, you have something going for you. you have things to lose. he doesn't. oh and of course, the main part of it all,

you're a complete normie.

you probably don't even know about curses, let alone sorcerers. you're probably one of those people who blame it on life's obstacles, the unwarranted negativity. but maybe you're just so damn positive all the time that you do literally the opposite of attracting curses. curses are formed from negative emotions, and you don't seem like you have those. that's what he thinks.

you see, toji has a very bad habit of assuming things. he's here having this entire dilemma on the kind of person you are when he knows jack shit about you. that's wrong, he knows. but toji....toji does a lot of wrong things. a very shitty justification, but toji is a shitty person.

would you think so too?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------——

it's been about a week, give or take, since he last saw you. but no matter where he goes or who he's killing, it's like the simplest things remind him of you. this is unhealthy, honestly. growing attached way too quick and way too easily, he has a lot of things to fix up on.

pink reminds him of you. puppies remind him of you. rainbows remind him of you. sweets remind him of you. and the sun reminds him of you.

so as you can see, you're everywhere he goes. following him when he wants nothing more than to get away. you must be a witch.

he just wants to gouge his own eyes out at this point, anything will save him from the restraints of adoring someone. he likes to think he's strong. wait no, he knows he's strong. but for some reason, you make him weak. and toji hates being weak. he confronts those who try to make him seem like he's anything but the terrifying killer he is and makes them beg for mercy.

which is why, he's currently back in the god forsaken place that started it all.

and what are you doing? greeting him like he's an old friend, like you've known each other for years. it makes him sick.

"you're back." you say, almost sounding relieved. do you always greet customers like this? or is it just him? "did you like my love?"

he wishes you would just stop referring to your treats as your damn love, it makes him want to hate you even more. "yeah." is all he says, a small scowl present with his arms crossed over his chest.

"tooooold you." you chuckle.

he wants to scoff at your cockiness, at your playfulness. can you just stop being so damn cute? silence follows as he stares you down, but you don't look the slightest bit bothered by it. why aren't you? do you think you're better than him?

"i'm assuming you came back for more." he didn't, but you're already completing the same routine as last time, picking a box and filling it. "we have some new ones this week, so i'll give you some of those. unless you really liked the ones from last time, we still have the custard ones, so i can give you that to--"

"what's your name?" he cuts you off, firmly.

you momentarily still, eyes flicking back up to his over the counter, he's still looking at you. as you stand back to your full height, you're slightly confused. however, you tell him. "y/n."

he knows he's in deep shit when just your name gives him butterflies. and hearing you say it? he just wants to grab you from over the counter and kiss you until you can't even rem--

he clears his throat. god, he's too horny.

"y/n what?"

"y/n l/n."

"are you lying?"

you snort a laugh. "who lies about their name?"

you're right, who does do that? "suspicious people."

"am i suspicious?" your head tilts in an frustratingly adorable manner.

no, he thinks. you're anything but. you seem like you wear your heart on your sleeve and you just seriously might be the most genuine person he's met. but then again, he doesn't know you, so this might all be a facade. you might actually be a two-faced bitch. "a little."

you hum softly and nod. with a small look to the ceiling, in thought, you say the most ridiculous thing ever. "well, how about we change that?"

a scoff breaks through. "how?"

and he supposes this entire time, you were filling the box and closing it back with the same sticker and heart from before. "you can get to know me." scratch that, that was the most ridiculous thing he ever heard you say.

"no." is his automatic response.

"why not?"

"i'm not looking for friends."

"we don't have to be friends." you say, sliding the box over to him. "but we can know each other's name at least. and since you already know mine......" you trail off as he gets the hint to what you're saying.

hesitation floods him because you really could be a spy or a fake. telling you his name could be dangerous and what if you try to report him to some authorities or something.

he's overthinking if you couldn't already tell.

but, he's getting older and probably won't have much more time left with what his occupation is. he's taken risks before, so what's one more? and again, you're right. how can he assume you're not really who you say you are if he doesn't find out himself.

so, with a deep exhale, his fingers twitching against his arm, he tells you. "toji fushiguro."

[chickenkupo]

I Just Want My Tea

Summary:

Wriothesley, the busy man that he is, doesn’t notice that his tea stash is getting rather low, no thanks to Sigewinne taking her share since she considers it payback for what Neuvillette and him put her through once he was claimed. It wasn’t until after a shift at the Fortress of Meropide, however, that he noticed this. After going to the home that he and his mate, Neuvillette, share, he vows that the next morning he will run to the nearest grocery market to take note of their goods, and purchase some more that suit his tastes perfectly. He drools just thinking about it. 

However, Neuvillette is starting to feel a sort of odd heat beneath his skin recently, and it only gets worse as the days go by. He constantly finds himself staring at his love when they are together, and when they are apart, he can only think of having his man back in his embrace, littering him with possessive affection and a viscous need. He’s finding it hard to let Wriothesley go anywhere without him, now, this heat feeling like it is reaching its peak. 

But, the man desperately wants his tea, and the dragon wants his man. The compromise? Why, of course the dragon sovereign is going to turn into a little noodle version of his full dragon form, and go with him! Why, you ask, would he do this?

Well, how else is he going to pleasure the both of them while out in public?

TLDR: Horny noodle dragon is in his heat and tries to get freaky with his mate while he just wants to do some simple grocery shopping. Chaos ensues.

Recommendations: For full context, please refer to I Promise and Now For the Next Act. This is considered a little side story before I continue on with the next 'serious' work in the series.

Warnings: 18+, though barely. Will be writing up some stuff to add onto this as a second chapter with even spicier content, but this story had to leave my head one way or another. Dubious content, public sexy behavior, slight mind manipulation.

SHOUT OUT TO MY AWESOME BETA READER, Gleth_Eldigande! Please, if you like my content, go and check out theirs here! I promise you'll enjoy it! ALSO SAY THANK YOU! They work hard to keep my lore together and keep me on track!

Author Note: IM BACK BBY! Finally wrote up my Noodle Dragon/Wriothesley story. I made it WAY LONGER than I intended to, but I don't care, here it is! Tumblr is getting 2 day early access to this, after which I will be posting to AO3 because, once more, I cannot write something short to save my life.

Sheeeeeesh, long enough intro, right? Well, let's get to the good shit!

•

•

•

Wriothesley groans as he holds his head, a small, yet persistent, headache forming. He knew what the exact cause was, and there was nothing he could do to cure it, currently. He had a few more appointments with new inmates to address, assigning them to their roles and housing, before he could leave the rest of the duties to Grace. Thankfully he had a few more moments until the next prisoners arrived for his council. His wrapped hands reached towards one of the side drawers of his massive desk, and after reviewing the contents (or lack thereof) once more, a defeated sigh escaped his lips. His wooden tea box that was consistently managed and previously well stocked had taken quite a hit logistically. He reckoned that he should have taken Sigewinne more seriously when she proclaimed that she was going to do some damage to the supplies.

“YOUR TEA IS FORFEIT!” She screamed, loud enough for Neuvillette to still remember, even with his then feral brain taking over and becoming the overprotective mate that he was now.

The Duke did not take her that seriously after the event, however. Neuvillette had informed him of what she proclaimed, as he was still passed out at the time, his body trying to process all of these new changes and get some sort of semblance of rest, for once. But, as he continued to stare down at the empty contents, he knew then that she kept to her word. He winces, a sharp pain shooting through his skull. Not only did the tea he drank help to calm his nerves after dealing with, to him, ridiculous situations most of the day, it also provided him with a level of caffeine to keep him awake. Now, not having a single drop of tea all day, his body was going into withdrawal. He desperately needed the energy, too. Not only did the constant appointments seem to drain his energy, but he also had the odd situation occurring at home.

Neuvillette, to be completely honest, was going full horny mode on him here recently, and it felt like every night it was getting worse. At this point, from what he experienced last night, he knew that the moment that he walked through the threshold of their home, the hydro dragon would once again pounce on him. The attack being sudden, as Neuvillette would probably assault his mouth with his own, his long dragon tail being released from its glamor spell and then wrap itself around Wriothesley’s legs, and halfway up his torso, holding him in place as Neuvillette would continue his assault. Then, literally get dragged into their bedroom, tossed onto the bed and be devoured as if he were some sort of feast for a god. Granted, Wriothesley loved every single second of it, but it would take so much energy out of him. They’d continuously partake in divine levels of intercourse for the remainder afternoon and well into the throes of night, until it was almost near time for him to get up and return back to the fortress, though he noticed the snarls and hisses thrown at him as he got up and ready. Never threatening to him, but he knew now how dragons would literally throw a hissy fit now. It was cute, yet slightly terrifying. 

So, yes, Wriothesley needed his tea, desperately. There was no way he could go through another night of this and live to tell the tale. He’d just have to stop by the grocery building in Fontaine before he headed home. As much as he did enjoy the meals provided to him in the Fortress of Meropide, only one of the grocers in Fontaine had his favorite flavor of tea bags and loose leaves in stock, and he never went down the cheap route when it came to his tea. The man had standards, you know. He’d be a little late getting home, and maybe Neuvillette wouldn’t really notice. It wouldn’t take that long, anyway. Just one quick little trip and return home, snagging a sample of the already brewed tea that they normally had on sample display should be enough to boost his energy levels, somewhat. Ever since his somewhat odd transformation, his body did recover much more swiftly regarding many different levels of exertion, than his previous, normal human body did. For that, he was grateful, though it did take a decent amount of time for him to mentally and emotionally adjust to such changes. Dragons were determined and possessive little fuckers, but at the end of the day, Wriothesley wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Sir! Two new inmates would like to come in for their meeting, would you care to have them come in now, or do you still need a moment or two?” One of the fortress guards addressed him from the other side of the room. They must have walked in while he was deep in thought, as he didn’t hear their footsteps at all. Thinking about how your horny mate was fucking your brains out the previous night and reliving those clips in your head will do that to you. Wriothesley closed the drawer that contained the empty tea box at his desk, and did his best to put on a look that didn’t show the now throbbing headache he was suffering from.

“Go on ahead, let them in, let’s get this done and over with.” He almost grumbled, pulling out their files and taking a brief overview before the two entered his office.

The Duke had barely finished his sentence before two figures came barging in, the guard having to help press against the two individuals to keep them at a respectable distance from Wriothesley. Not so much for his safety, but rather theirs. Wriothesley did pack a rather ferocious punch, but little did everyone know that he had an even more ferocious hydro dragon that would spill blood in less than a heartbeat if even a hair on Wriothesley’s head had been damaged. But the citizens of Fontaine didn’t need to know about that, not quite yet.

“WHY IS HER ASSIGNED BED LARGER THAN MINE? HER CRIMES ARE WAY WORSE THAN MINE, THIS ISN’T FAIR!” One of the women screeched out, pushing against the guard with each emphasis.

“WELL HER MEALS ARE BETTER QUALITY THAN ANYTHING I HAVE HAD HERE SO FAR AND I DEMAND RETRIBUTION!” The other woman rang out, also pushing against the poor, singular guard, who was doing a rather fine job of holding the line. They might need a raise after today.

“S-S-SIR!” The guard yelled out, looking for any sort of instruction or assistance in the current matter.

The Duke merely sighed, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, the migraine now pulsing.

How the hell was he supposed to survive today?

•

•

•

What should have lasted five minutes felt like it lasted five hours. In reality, it did turn out to be a couple of hours that Wriothesley had to sit there, trying to make sense of the situation and figure out the best way to handle it while the poor guard held the two women back from causing not only a fight with Wriothesley, but also between each other. Grace, having stepped in to take over when she noticed she had not been called after, had truly saved him that day. He swiftly exchanged information with her, and eased himself out of the room while the Melusine tried to calm the entire situation down. At first he was nervous for her, but after turning around and looking at her crazed expression and wicked smile about facing a new challenge, he blinked, gave her a thumbs up and headed out swiftly. He didn’t have much time to spare at this point, or at all, so he needed to make this trip quick.

As much as he hated using the teleport points, mostly because it always left him with such an odd dizzy feeling after reaching his destination, he didn’t have much of a choice this time around. Touching the teleport point at the Fortress, he concentrated his energy to focus himself to travel to the central hub of Fontaine, where the shops were only a short walk away. The blue aura took over him as he closed his eyes, and felt his entire being travel from one distant location to the other. He wasn’t sure what else he could describe the sensations he was feeling when this happened, other than he felt like he was displaced in an unknown area before his being settled to where it should be. A part of him wanted to figure out the mechanics of these one day, but sometimes it was better left unknown and to just be happily taking advantage of its properties. 

As his body settled in the heart of Fontaine, he doubled over for a second, holding onto a concrete railing to gather himself. Normally it wouldn’t have affected him so badly, but with the thudding pain in his head still present, it only amplified the uncomfortable sensations he was going through. Wriothesley took a moment to take a deep breath, hold for a few seconds, and then slowly exhaled. He found that helped him level himself after teleportations, and it did end up alleviating a little bit. He would have normally spent more time taking it easy for a few more minutes, but he didn’t have that luxury at the moment. He was late, still needing at least a smidge of caffeine at this point, and he had a nagging feeling in his soul that Neuvillette was not happy with him not being at their home. He was seriously fucked, not that he really minded that, but he’d rather not pass out the second they get started. Oh no, he was going to wear that hydro dragon out if it was the last thing he did.

Once he fully gathered himself and his surroundings, he hurriedly walked himself closer to the grocer. Luckily, they were ones that stayed open later than the usual surrounding vendors, so he still had some time. Wriothesley noticed that the surroundings were getting darker, the sun must be setting. His suspicions were confirmed as the outdoor post lights that littered the city began to glow, offering a new form of illumination for those out wandering about. Yeah, there was no way he was going to make it back at a reasonable time. He cursed to himself but accepted the circumstances. Now wasn’t the time to wallow and be mad, he needed to get in, grab as many of the peppermint tea bags as he could, and bail. Wriothesley looked up and saw that he was maybe a half a block away at most, before something suddenly came crashing into his side, sending him flying into a nearby alleyway. He gasped and braced himself for impact into the concrete below, but was shocked when he noticed he didn’t feel any pain, just a very familiar weight on top of him. He didn’t even need to look up to notice who was now straddling him in the dark and hidden alleyway.

“For fuck’s sake, Neuv! Really?!” Wriothesley fussed at his mate in a harsh whisper, eyes narrowed at the dragon that was laying on top of him, noticing that he was in a more half transformed body. His horns were showing again, his hair more unruly and trailing down further, eyes more feral, fangs showing and a faded mirage of his actual draconic tail whipping back and forth behind him; a dragon studying his prey. 

It took a few seconds before Neuvillette replied, a hiss escaping his lips as his words left his mouth. “Yes, really…”

 

Wriothesley rolled his eyes, and then tried to push the man off of him, who didn’t budge at all. Blinking in confusion, and then trying again, he got the same result, with a hint of a growl from the man above him. Neuvillette lowered his head and started nuzzling down on Wriothesley’s neck near his mating mark, purring again, looking very reminiscent of the day when the claiming took place. A part of Wriothesley wanted to fade into bliss and let the hydro dragon have his way with him, but for now he had more blood rushing to his brain than his cock, which was starting to get harder by the second. They couldn’t do this out in the open, and Neuvillette sure as hell couldn’t reveal his form to the citizens of Fontaine like this. Well, brute force obviously wasn’t going to work. He had only one plan left that seemed to snap Neuvillette out of his feral fits like this, and technically it was true.

The Duke lifted one of his hands slowly, running it through Neuvillette’s hair, in a calming manner, letting him nuzzle further into his neck and breathing in his scent. The massive amount of heat radiating from Neuvillette indicated to Wriothesley that whatever he was going through was getting worse, so hopefully it wasn’t too late for him to listen to reason. 

“Babe, please. My head is throbbing right now, and I need some caffeine, okay? It’ll help lessen the pain and I can uh…actually be awake and last for what you got planned, eheh…plus, can you put away the whole…dragony bits? This is not the way to really reveal this sort of information, you know…” Wriothesley laughed nervously, his cheeks flushing with an intense blush, praying to the archons that this would actually work.

Neuvillette immediately stiffened as the words settled into his brain and he fully comprehended the situation, but the heat within his body was unrelenting. His two cocks, hard as the cement below them, were brushing against Wriothesley’s own erection, still tempting the two of them into further, dirtier deeds. The hydro dragon’s instincts were going wild, demanding relief for the two of them, and Wriothesley, though his scent was incredibly attractive to him, was severely lacking in his own scent being mixed in (even though, to be quite frank, if there were any other dragons around, they could definitely smell Neuvillette all over him), which made him even more irritable. But his mate was correct, and he needed to get himself together. Wriothesley was not rejecting him, and he needed to be a good mate and take care of him.

Almost immediately, the tail that was behind Neuvillette faded back away into nothingness, his horns began to recede, fangs and hair retracting back to their previous forms. A noticeable, and adorable, pout played on Neuvillette’s face as he started to remove himself from straddling his mate, offering him his hand as he pulled the two of them up so they were both standing casually in the alleyway. Wriothesley, as he was shaking the dust and dirt off of himself, started to scan his surroundings. It didn’t seem as though anyone had walked by while they had their little scene, a relieved sigh being released once he realized this.

“Listen, ba-” Wriothesley grunted, knowing he wasn’t whispering now and was addressing Neuvillette properly, as they were in public now and more easily noticeable than before. “Monsieur Neuvillette…” he corrected himself, and cringed at how that sounded now. He knew the hydro dragon didn’t like being referred to in that way by him, but knew that they had to keep up the formalities until the proper time presented itself. 

“I’ll be able to come back once I’ve grabbed what I need, real quick, alright? It shouldn’t take long, and then we can go back to…” Wriothesley’s voice trailed, as he continued talking, but Neuvillette couldn’t seem to focus on anything that was being said, as long as it was nothing regarding his health or safety. 

Instead, all Neuvillette could do was feel both of his cocks still pulsing, needing friction and release. His skin started to grow hot again at the lack of touch against his mate, driving him insane. He could feel his fangs beginning to lengthen, ever so slowly as he continued staring at the scales that lightly dusted Wriothesley’s skin from his recovered injuries. He had to do something, and he had to let Wriothesley get what he needed.

“I’m coming with you, end of discussion.” Neuvillette proclaimed, ever maintaining the image of a proper gentleman even with the hell he was currently going through, as he cleared his throat and adjusted his garments, slapping the dust off of them as well from when they plummeted to the ground earlier.

“What? No, that’ll take forever! Everyone will want to talk to you! Listen, we’re both struggling here, ba-Monsieur. Go on back, and I’ll meet you there. I promise, it will not take long, okay?” Wriothesley stated, trying to reassure his lover, patting him on the shoulder as an emphasis to this. The Duke thought he was finally in the clear as Neuvillette did not respond, and began heading his way back to his original destination, before he had the oddest sensation run through him.

As quick as he felt the energy in the air, it dissipated, and suddenly he felt something wriggle its way through underneath his jacket and undershirt beneath his vest, and wrap around him like some sort of snake. He gasped in shock, trying to tear open his shirt to see what the actual fuck was going on, and his mouth dropped open as he peered down. This hydro dragon was nothing but trouble underneath all that proper poise and composure.

Underneath all of his clothes and happily coiled around his bare torso, was the hydro dragon himself, in his full dragon form, but…incredibly tiny, like a plushie. His white scales glistened with blue ever so slightly in the little amount of light that was being produced nearby. His little white hair and beard was rather fluffy and tickled his skin, the horns being too dull to prick or poke him, but still noticeably there, and the same with his claws. His tail completely wrapped around his torso and tickled his body a bit as it waved back and forth across his skin. 

With an agitated sigh, he glared back down at Neuvillette one last time, who merely placed his scaled chin on one of Wriothesley’s pecs, tongue flickering out and teasing the skin of his mate, looking up at him with large, slit lilac eyes that Wriothesley was all too familiar with. The man sighed as he tightened his clothing back up, trying to ignore the ever present hydro dragon that was now descaled down to a small noodle plushie size and wrapped around him. Yeah, he wasn’t going to regret allowing this to happen at all, but maybe for once the dragon would behave himself.

“Alright, I’ll allow it, I get it, we’ll compromise on this. But if you give me any sort of trouble, I swear…” Wriothesley warned, and knowing his lover, he was surprised when he didn’t hear any sort of feedback. Dragons were rather proud creatures, so a statement against them as such, even from their lifelong mates, usually warranted some sort of warning growl, hiss or light love bite. But Wriothesley felt nothing. Blinking, thinking that maybe Neuvillette was just really distracted with how he had been feeling the past couple of days, he took it as a sign of acceptance of terms, and moved onward to the grocery store.

Oh, how wrong he was. No matter the dragon, they were all the same in this respect. When they wanted something, they got it. End of discussion. Though they do cherish their mates deeply, they were nothing but masters of persuasion and persistence. One way or another, what they wanted would become theirs. Neuvillette was not an exception, even to this.

Even if he was in an adorable noodle form that Wriothesley was secretly gushing about in his mind – it was too cute to handle, but he had to stay focused.

Wriothesley tested the next few steps that he took, making sure to concentrate more on the dragon that had curled around him than the still throbbing pain that he felt in his head. So far, so good. It seemed Neuvillette was content with just having some skin to scale contact. Maybe that’s what he needed all along, or that’s just the level of restraint that Neuvillette had now, knowing that his health wasn’t at tip top shape. He chose to end his logical reasoning, and focused instead on the grocer, who was now in plain sight. The door was still propped open, and the lights were still on inside, some patrons walking in and some walking out with their purchased goods. A brief sigh of relief escaped his lips as he started to walk through the threshold, observing the different aisles of goods, knowing exactly what he needed. He was a man on a mission right now.

Though the building looked rather small from the outside, the inside of it was quite large. Aisle after aisle of consumable goods were on display, one trip here is all you would require for most of your culinary needs. Ranging from fresh meat, to locally grown vegetables and fruits, to imported goods, the store had all that you needed and then some. Since the rebuilding efforts of Fontaine began after the the chaotic events occurred, many of Teyvat’s nations decided to pitch in one way or another and send goods to the local stores of Fontaine, helping to restock whatever goods they had until the nation was able to provide at full capacity for its citizens once more. The citizens of Fontaine greatly appreciated this for many reasons, but one of the major ones was the new type of diversity of resources and food provided. Wriothesley was just one such of these people. Without Mondstadt sending over some of their interestingly flavored tea, he would not have been able to try the peppermint flavor that he now constantly desired. Something about the mint from the land of freedom itself just had that extra fresh and tasteful twist to the brew that he couldn’t find anywhere else. Plus, if he ever had a day when his throat was irritating him (he’s mentally glaring down at the cute but troublesome noodle dragon that was coddling his chest, being the source of these recent moments), it fixed him right up. The Duke was about to walk down one of the aisles to go to the middle of the store where it had a more open view of where the items were located, when all of a sudden he felt a light tapping on his shoulder. 

The man turned around to address the individual, immediately on high alert, which faded almost as soon as it had developed. A sweet, gentle smile of a young woman graced him, one that was sadly familiar to him now, but he was used to having social situations like this. He blessed her with one of his trademark smiles, arms crossed over his chest. He did poses like this to give off a rather calm, but stern demeanor. He had a reputation to uphold, after all, no matter the circumstances. But he would be lying if he were to say that this didn’t have a secondary purpose. He had started feeling Neuvillette wiggle against his skin and clothing, trying to adjust himself, he supposed, to get a better view of the situation. Though, that was still rather hard to do with the amount of layers that Wriothesley tended to wear. 

“Your Grace, it was indeed you! I just wanted to thank you for your assistance the other day. I know it’s not the best situation, but you’re truly one of the best to handle it. I don’t know what I would have done without all of the help that you and your men provided.” The young woman said, with a sweet, soothing voice. Such a compliment caused Wriothesley to blush ever so slightly. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell, even in bright lighting. But one being could, and that was the ever growing jealous dragon that was snuggled up to him.

Noodlette (Wriothesley was proud of this title he just came up with for him, he’d have to tell him about it later after they got back from pound town), was clearly starting to get agitated. The moment he seemed to have heard that it was a female voice that was close to his mate, a slight hissing sound escaped him. Luckily for Wriothesley, her voice seemed to out-mask his tiny hiss, which irritated the hydro dragon even more. He was well aware that women were of no interest to Wriothesley, but he was also well aware that most people found the man attractive, and loved to have his undivided attention. Attention that should be his, by the way, especially now when his heat was about to be upon the two of them at full blast. Noodlette grunted, and being the needy dragon that he was, started to come up with some mischievous plans.

“Of course, it’s all part of the job, after all. Your brother will be taken care of at the Fortress of Meropide, I swear. But, it’s good to see you out and about. Get your mind off things, you know? People make the wrong decisions sometimes, but we’ll handle it from here.” Wriothesley tried to assure her that no thanks were necessary, it was all part of the job. He was about to continue on with another sentence before he stopped in his tracks, immediately becoming stiff, so much so that the young woman in front of him gasped, reaching her hand out to him to check on him.

“Your grace! Are you alright?!” The woman asked, worriedly.

Wriothesley continued to try to keep himself together, but the sensations were already starting to flood his senses. Noodlette had started slowly licking the skin around his left nipple, lapping the hardening bud up while lightly nipping and pulling on it. Noodlette also had his claws out, though not all full sharpened length, as he slowly dug into Wriothesley’s skin, not enough to break it, but enough for his mate to feel the tension, and slowly started to drag his claws down. The two of them came to find out that Wriothesley loved it when the hydro dragon would release his claws and scratch at him while they were love making. It became one of his favorite things, and Neuvillette didn’t mind at all. The more marks on him to show the world that he was claimed, the better, in his opinion. Wriothesley grunted as he tightened his arms around himself, hoping to constrict the noodle dragon and halt his actions. It worked, for now. Little did he know that the dragon was beaming, having had a naughty moment with his mate, getting him all flustered, and this woman hadn’t achieved that. Plus getting a tight hug like this? The dragon was the proudest he had been in a while now.

Clearing his throat to hide a moan as Noodlette started to slowly inch his claws back down his skin, Wriothesley put every bit of his focus and energy into keeping the conversation normal.

“Y-Yes, sorry about that. I’ve been having a little bit of a headache today, nothing to worry about. That aside, I’ll be sending some update reports your way once your brother gets established at the Fortress.” Wriothesley stated, surprised at his own ability to keep himself together at this point. He could feel the little noodle dragon starting to squirm again, and he had no doubt that his lover wasn’t enjoying the woman’s company, especially being so close when he had one thing on his mind, dicking his mate down hard. The Duke was getting the message loud and clear. Get away from other threats, get the goods and go home so they can lose themselves in feral lovemaking. 

The young woman brought her arm back to her side as she eyed him up and down, skeptically, making sure he was indeed alright. After a few seconds of seeing him maintain his composure, she simply offered him another soft smile, nodding her head. 

“Alright. I do hope that you feel better, your grace. Once more, thank you for all of the help, truly. I apologize that part of my family caused so much of a mess for you, but hopefully this will all be the proper steps in the right direction.” She concluded, giving a small bow as she eyed him up and down once more, making sure that she didn’t miss anything. But, his stature and expression remained the same as he had given a small smirk, nodding his head in acknowledgement to her. She took that as her dismissal, and promptly left after gathering her small bag of goods and left. 

The moment that her presence couldn’t be felt nearby, Wriothesley began to feel an odd, small vibration coming from Noodlette. Blinking in curiosity, Wriothesley peeked downwards and saw that the small dragon was gently rubbing his head against his skin again, purring away, with a big smile. It was almost as if the hydro dragon were just as gleeful as ever, rubbing his face away on him like a cat would their owner. The man had no doubt Noodlette was enjoying himself by staking his claim yet again by scenting him, like it wasn’t already obvious through the faintly shimmering scales that littered Wriothesley’s skin if the light hit them right, or the blue essence that Neuvillette had pumped into him the night of the claiming that was still coursing through his veins. This made Wriothesley think of all the ways the dragon obviously had him as his mate and vice versa, his mind not clearly understanding just how truly territorial dragons were with their mates and close loved ones. In truth, the woman that had approached Wriothesley just moments ago was lucky that the dragon didn’t strike her down right then and there. Dragons, back in prior times, held no mercy against any threat, subtle or not, to their claim. However, that just showed how much Noodlette still respected the position and title of his mate. Though, instincts were hard to completely control, and this was what resulted from him trying to resist them while also giving in a bit, before it all drove him into insanity.

If only Wriothesley understood this to the fullest extent, however. Instead, the man just found Noodlette to be needy and extremely bratty at this point. Though not necessarily untrue, he would find out later that night exactly what this all entailed. That didn’t stop the Duke from continuing to glare down on the blissed out Noodlette, and after looking around to see if anyone was nearby and content when there was not, he squeezed the dragon a bit which earned a little adorable squeak from the tiny dragon, like some sort of plush toy. Wriothesley knew he didn’t hurt the poor little thing, just surprised him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Wriothesley hissed at at Noodlette, who tried to look up at him with the most innocent eyes that he could muster, along with an odd light chuffing noise, which the man assumed was some sort of pouting huffs to emphasize his adorableness and lessen his anger. Wriothesley growled at the minuscule dragon, who then got a cranky face of his own, and growled right back at him, even though it sounded so pitiful. The growl of the dragon eased off into a whimper, as Wriothesley started to feel the whole body temperature of the noodle dragon that had wrapped himself around him start to drastically increase. Noodlette started whimpering even louder, and Wriothesley blushed as he started to feel a rhythmic movement against his chest, sides, and…was that Noodlette’s little tail that had somehow wormed its way past all of his belts and headed straight down his waist? 

Wriothesley’s eyes widened as the rhythmic ministrations continued, and he began to hear an odd panting noise coming from Noodlette. Was that also…what was that hardness that was bumping up against him? Wait, what the fuck? Was Noodlette humping him now? Was this what this was?!

“Y-You need to stop that and get it together! You’re such a little shit! Stop it, stop it!” The man growled out, keeping his arms once again tight around his own torso, trapping the little Noodlette to prevent any more movements. The last thing that needed to happen was for him to have a massive boner in public like this and have to provide some explanation to the general public as to why he was walking around a grocery store in that sort of state. The little Noodlette let out a little squeaky whine again, barely audible but with Wriothesley’s increased sense of hearing since their initial coupling, he sure was able to hear it loud and clear.

However, the young little boy that was bouncing between the aisles didn’t notice this noise. He had broken away from his mother, who had found someone that she knew a few aisles down and was doing the classic mom thing of talking for what felt like hours, just to say nothing or discuss boring drama that the little boy had no interest in. None of the aisles had really piqued his curiosity, except for the one with sugary sweets and drinks. His mother had swiftly ushered him away from those, the last thing she needed to deal with was a hyperactive kid when it was close to dinner time as it was. So, the kid ventured away as soon as her attention was divided, and that’s how he came upon the aisle where he saw the strange man, dressed so scarily (and like a badass), in grays, black and reds, with belts and boots to match. He was awed at first, until he saw the odd behavior of the man. He seemed to be hugging himself and muttering some odd words, almost as if he were fighting with himself. What was once awe then turned into apprehension and wariness as the kid started to get a worried feeling about the guy in front of him. He was acting odd, clearly talking to himself, should they call the guards? 

The child started to take a few steps away until he accidentally backed into one of the shelves, causing a can of archons knows what, to fall off of the shelf and roll on the ground towards the odd man. The kid's heart began to race so hard he felt like it was about to burst out of his chest and go running down the street. He was frozen in fear as the can rolled right into one of the black boots of the man. The man then whipped around to look at the kid, sharp, gray-blue eyes pierced right through the kid's soul, it felt like, and the kid started to shriek and cry as he ran back towards where he last saw his mother. 

Wriothesley stood in place as he was trying to comprehend what was going on, as well as hoping that the kid didn’t see the little Noodlette’s head poking out from underneath his vest, tongue flicking out in curiosity. It took a second for the man to notice the little dragon head poking out, viewing the outside world for a few seconds before he hastily shoved the little scaled head back down underneath his clothes. At first, the dragon tried to fight and push its way back out, but the horny seemed to get the best of him again the second he felt more skin to scale contact. The little dragon crooned as he began rubbing his face all over his mates skin again, tongue lapping out, teasing the man. This made Wriothesley groan as he accepted his fate. He knew there was no trying to calm the little dragon down, he needed to go and get the tea and get the fuck out of here, and fast. He was already starting to make a scene, he didn’t need anymore added to his docket right now.

“Just, just don’t do anything crazy, please, I’m almost done!” Wriothesley begged as he began to race down through the store, heading towards the exact aisle that he needed. He glanced around, sighing in frustration as he noticed some of the items had been moved around since he had last visited the store, the peppermint tea not in the same location as it was before. Luckily, he remembered that the packaging was in a light blue box with a scene of misty mountains on it, and after taking a moment to go back and forth in the aisle, he managed to finally find it. The second that his hands grasped the box, he felt like his migraine was already starting to fade away, the cure was finally in his grasp. Happy, and somehow not becoming a moaning mess at the noodle dragon that was currently trying to tease his nipples again, he began to storm out of the aisle and towards the front of the store to pay for his goods, before he felt a presence in front of him. 

“Oh, it’s you! Oh, my son just adores you, he’s always going about how he wants to work at the Fortress of Meropide one day! Seriously, you’re his biggest hero! It’s not often we see you in these parts of Fontaine, can we get your autograph, your grace?” A middle aged woman ran up to him, leaving her cart and child behind, and whipping out a pen and notepad that he saw also had a grocery list on it.

As much as Wriothesley wanted to oblige her, he felt the little noodle getting rambunctious underneath his clothing again. That was never a good sign, he noted. The hydro dragon probably thought this was yet another threat to his claim, which had him mentally rolling his eyes. However, to his surprise, and dismay, it seems as though Noodlette had come up with a new method of torturing him. It was subtle at first, but as Wriothesley was about to reply to the woman, his actions ceased as he heard a weird sort of…tune? Coming from the little dragon. At first it just seemed like a series of growls and coos, but now it started to blend together in an odd, soothing melody that hastily started having his senses be dulled and a light heat pumping through him. He shook his head, holding a hand up to it to support himself as he began to come back to, though not fully snapping out of it. 

“Oh! Are you alright?! You must be suffering from hay-fever like the rest of us right now, I know that look anywhere, young man. You need to be getting your rest and sleep! Come, Conner, let’s leave your hero to rest! How else is he going to stay big and strong and keep us all safe?!” The mother stated to her child and she returned back to her cart, trying to usher the two of them away. 

It was then that Wriothesley got a good look at the young kid that was with her, eyes wide open as he noticed it was the same young child that he had seen before that ran off, terrified of him. He inwardly groaned, thinking for sure that he didn’t blame the kid for having that sort of reaction, he was a kind of scary guy, especially with how frustrated he was sure he looked after this whole debacle. After the kid realized who was in front of him and his mother, sniffles turned into a full blown crying episode as he clung to his mother for comfort and safety.

“Now, now, Conner! It’s okay, we’ll get his autograph when he’s feeling better, okay sweetie? Who knows, maybe the Duke will feel so much stronger then that he’ll even want to pick you up onto his shoulders, wouldn’t that be fun?!”

The child only started crying harder after hearing that, clearly still terrified of the man, little to the knowledge of his mother.

“Hush, hush! Here, why don’t we go back down the sweet aisle and I’ll grab you some sweet bread, wouldn’t that be nice? That’s my big boy!” the mother crooned, as she gathered her son and started walking down the way towards the desserts and breads. Wriothesley only wished he could give some sort of verbal reply, but that damned song that Noodlette was performing was preventing him from doing so. He was surprised that the older woman or her child couldn’t hear it, which started to make him believe that Noodlette was making this only noticeable through his own hearing.

The little noodle started to unwind himself from his mate, now slithering out from underneath his clothes, head and neck peering out to look Wriothesley directly in the eyes. The duke could only stare and get lost in the piercing, slit eyes of his mate, even in this form. Where they were once wide and adorable to look at, now they held a level of conviction and seriousness, a possessive aura flowing through them. Wriothesley didn’t sense anyone near them, which was a relief, but he was confused as to what exactly was going on now. 

To his shock, those same small glowing orbs that had appeared when Neuvillette had first claimed Wriothesley appeared again, and the longer that the man stared at them, the more he started falling under whatever spell that Noodlette was casting upon him. The tune was so coaxing, his migraine, which was still there, had lessened to a dull thud, and the heat that was once pooled in his gut was starting to branch out everywhere within himself now. The song teased him with senses of peace, pleasure and possession, if he would only surrender himself to it. It needed his consent, craved it, and he knew the moment that he gave it, all of Fontaine be damned, this dragon was going to claim him then and there, in front of them all. This was, he assumed, what Sigewinne had once told him about as she had started to study the mating rituals of dragons, especially after what she had witnessed that one fateful day. There weren’t many records, but the ones that did exist, she absorbed their contents immediately. 

There was one story that she shared of a dragon’s mating call. Normally, this would be used to lure a potential mate in, but it also served different purposes as well, especially if a mating bond had already been established. If that prerequisite had been met, then the mating call held an overall different purpose. Instead, instead of luring in a potential mate, this call was used to lure their stubborn mate to give into their deepest, carnal desires, tossing logic to the side and also increased the sensitivity within their nerves, guaranteeing that once the mate fully submitted, they would experience a pleasure more intense than ever before, unless the song had been used on them previously. Sometimes mates needed to be reminded of who they belonged to, and when a dragon called out to them with this mating call, they would never forget again. 

Wriothesley tried to fight against the sensations at first, but the battle was easily lost. He felt his consciousness flow into a state of calm and bliss that no other sensible thoughts were running through him. He should be resisting, checking to see if anyone else saw this little noodle of a dragon poking out from underneath his clothing to stare into his soul and devour it whole. He should be convincing Neuvillette that this was a horrible idea, that they needed to keep away from the prying eyes of the citizens of Fontaine that were still within the store. He knew at first that this needed to be top priority, fuck the tea at this point, but he couldn’t fight. Whatever energy was flowing through him now, it was as if it were his own blood pumping through his veins. This claim that the dragon had was eerily strong and superior, it transcended anything that Wriothesley could muster against it. It should horrify him, but it oddly gave him a sense of satisfaction and adoration for the hydro dragon. Previously, no one in his life held any high value to him, other than Sigewinne. No one truly cared or wanted the best for him or would be willing to give up everything just to see him smile. He felt that, among many waves of lust and wanting, through the bond that they shared with each other. He, himself, was about to toss every sense of care away and act upon it. 

Wriothesley took a few steps forward, now noticing that there was a full body supporting him now, helping him to keep upright. The Duke wanted to raise his head and address the figure, but no words could be formed. The searing heat continued to rage through him, not in discomfort, but rather waves of pleasure. He was about to release a series of moans, before a gloved hand came up to press a finger against his lips, silencing him. 

“Shh, my dear, we wouldn’t want you to, how does one say, ‘spill the tea’ now, would we?” A haughty Neuvillette teased, now fully back into his humanoid form. Since his mate received the mating call so well, his body and soul knew that it would be appeased soon, and the primal instincts within himself started to recede, enough for him to drag his prize back into their den for a copious amount of carnal activities. 

“Now, let’s go and make a purchase and commence our meeting, shall we? We have some rather important details to go over…” Neuvillette said, again in the same teasing tone as before. He offered Wriothesley his side for support, helping him walk ahead towards the front of the store. Helping was a rather loose term here, however. The call was still playing through Wriothesley’s mind, and it felt like the bond between the two of them was flowing through his body and helping to propel his legs forward, beyond his sense of control, one of his hands holding his head to soothe the dull throbbing that still persisted. Even the mating call wasn’t enough to douse the intense pain. To outsiders, it would look as if the duke were suffering from a casual migraine and the prim and proper Neuvillette was helping him to finish at the store and return back to the Fortress of Meropide as soon as possible. They had no idea that there was a dragon in heat clawing to release and mate with its lover before a feral rage took him over that would level Fontaine as fast as it was rebuilt.

Wriothesley could hear faint mutters through all of the sensations that he was currently feeling. He recognized Neuvillette’s voice easily, but there was another that was there. Cheery, concerned, and businesslike. He assumed that it was the storekeeper, ringing up their purchase and voicing their concerns for him. However, his professional mate addressed the issue, he was sure, as they spent a few more moments there and were ushering themselves out the store, he could hear the bell of the door ringing as it opened, and once more as it closed. It was odd, he couldn’t really sense anyone strongly outside of his mate, but a part of him knew it was still the working of the mating call. He only needed to recognize his mate, respond to him and surrender himself completely to his dragon, and only his dragon.

He felt his body continuing to move on its own, until it suddenly stopped. The hold that was over him was starting to lift now, not completely, but enough  for him to become aware of his surroundings. It was now dark outside, the sun must have set while they were inside dealing with each other's shenanigans. The lights of the lamp posts were keeping the areas lit, which struck him with a wave of curiosity. The two of them were currently in front of one of the large fountains within the city square, close enough to feel some of the droplets of water bounce off of the surface and dust their skin. As Wriothesley continued to take note of his observations, he saw that there were a decent amount of people surrounding them, some in small groups and conversing with each other, others appeared to have been walking down the streets connecting to the other parts of Fontaine, while the rest were surrounding the fountain, taking in the beauty of it. But, there was something really odd going on here.

None of the people were moving. It was as if they were frozen in time, but everything else around them was continuing on. The waves of the fountain continued to cause a light sprinkle to grace their skin, and for that Wriothesley was thankful. At least there was something moving and making him feel less crazy, though he had no idea what was going on, yet again. Looking to his mate for answers, he gasped as he saw that Neuvillette’s eyes were glowing bright, pupils sharp as he stared at him, causing shivers to go down Wriothesley’s spine. They didn’t need words between them right now, the bond pulsed between the two of them and gave him all of the information that he needed. Neuvillette had done something to stop everyone from being able to see whatever the hell was about to happen. The duke tried to take a few steps back from Neuvillette out of caution, and that was the absolute wrong thing to do.

It all happened within a split second, a snarling, loud and ferocious growl was released from Neuvillette as he rushed right up to Wriothesley before he could take a second step backwards. Immediately, arms were wrapped around the duke, pulling him so close to the man that their noses were practically touching. The hydro dragon continued with his warning growls, fangs elongated to greater lengths than before, horns protruding from his crown and the dragon tail that was once a ghost form of itself now completely corporeal and wrapping around Wriothesley, holding him tight.

“Wriothesley…” the dragon purred out, with a slight growl towards the end. This made the man weak in the knees, completely thankful that his mate was supporting him with his arms and tail. He felt like such a limp noodle right now, and he knew that fighting any further would not be beneficial to him at all anymore. No, he was prey that was captured now, and he needed to face what was coming for him.

“We have what you need…” Wriothesley looked and saw a small bag attached to his side, it must have been the tea bags from earlier. The man gulped, knowing that he had teased the dragon before and had given him trouble while in the noodle form, a big no-no for the mate of a dragon.

“Now, you must suffer the consequences of your actions, my love. You were late, you did not tell me of your status, and kept me waiting.” Neuvillette continued, as he began to move the two of them painfully close to the fountain that was behind them. Then, a sharp smirk played on Neuvillette’s face as he pushed the two of them into the water of the fountain, Wriothesley’s eyes becoming wide as he wasn’t prepared for his dragon’s sudden motion. The dragon continued to push the two of them into the water’s depths that seemed to be endless now. The Duke could feel the unfamiliar waters turn into ones that he was too familiar with now. What felt like minutes underwater being pushed through by his dragon, then ended as they both breached the water's surface, his body being tossed onto the familiar bed that the two of them shared. It was obvious now that Neuvillette had frozen people in their steps so that they could teleport back swiftly to their den. Neuvillette stood at the door leading to their watery bedroom, as he smirked at his mate, holding the bag with the caffeinated goods inside.

“You’ll have your tea here in a few moments. But I’m going to have you all night…”

Archons, this dragon drove him crazy in every sense possible, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.