#it keeps happening. and happening. and happening. and that's a fucking *pattern* with a group of people

[uncanny-tranny]

I've taken a step back, but what's been bothering me is how people only engaged with trump's new sex assignment legislation as a joke.

No, the government will not be defining perisex cis men as women.

But you know who will be affected? Trans people. Intersex people. And that's the point. The cruelty is the point.

I just wish people would stop treating legislation that negatively affects us as a joke first and foremost, because it keeps happening. At this point, I'm inclined to believe that the actual reason some of y'all can never take our pain seriously is because you don't care.

[idkfitememate]

A Boar? In This Economy? Pt. 1

♡︎ « Next Part ⋙

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN!Boar Reader x Genshin World

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 922

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Crack, fluff, found family

So, SAGAU right? Imposter ver specifically, right? Alllll of Teyvat has been ruled by some asshole who claims to be the creator, right?

Welp.

It’s time for you to get your ass isekai’d!

One problem though….

Instead of getting your phone, or having all the elements under your belt, or anything else…

You’re a boar.

Not like a “BiG tUsK sPeCiAl PaTtErN” boar.

Just a boar you can find in the starting areas of Mondstadt that just so happens to have golden blood.

Fun.

Hell, when you first woke up, you were confused on why you were short. And why you were in fours. And hairy. And why your mouth felt so damn heavy. And dragging yourself to a small pound, you figured out why.

Shaggy brown hair and small beady black eyes staring back at you. Large, off white tusks block your forward vision so you move to the side in order to see yourself better. Designs in a darker brown line your fur, a small tail flailing in the wind.

And that is how you spent your first few months in Genshin Impact.

A simple boar trying their damnest to not die.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍡🍪🍬୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Apparently spending time by yourself makes the human mind bored (pun intended).

So.

You decided to build a boar friendly base in the trees.

You noted that all mobs weren’t hostile to you, most likely due to your god status. That and Teyvat was willing to literally bend itself backwards in order to ensure your survival. Making sure only the freshest of fruits fell to your feet, ensuring that the waters were calm when you wanted to swim, and that the winds would gently blow you off, making your fur all fluffy, so on and so forth.

It was especially nice when a hunter had their sights set on you, only for a pack of hilichurl to appear and slaughter the man, the ground swallowing him up.

Now, the first few times it was fucking horrifying, but then you kinda realized you they didn’t do that, you’d be super dead right now, so you pushed an apple over in thanks and took all the headpats you could get from the group.

Anyway, back to the main topic.

You got bored (pun intended again) of living on the ground where anyone could find you and kill you, and that was no fun! So you found a nice mountain side (since you didn’t have a map, you couldn’t say right off the top of your head where you were but you knew full well it was by Dragonspine. Gods you were so cold… but I’d be worth it!-) with a nice forest next to it, and began building.

With the help of nearby mita and lawachurls and - of course - Teyvat itself, you carved into the side of the mountain, creating a cave system that only a being as short as you could traverse. Then, you connected them to a large treehouse system and continued to work on said treehouse system. Someone would have to be focusing damn hard and not fighting the actual army of churls and slimes and other beasts that made their way to stay beneath your home to actually see… well your home.

And up you went.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🎂🍰🍩୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

More months had passed, and confirmed many things for you.

A. The true “Imposter” had came here long before you.

B. They very weren’t a boar.

C. You did have a human form, but your “Creator” form had a boar as a symbolic animal.

Which, while initially was a little insulting, you came to (reluctantly) agree that, yeah. That was unfortunately pretty accurate.

You could be a bit sloppy at times, keeping a good appearance wasn’t at the absolute top of your list, as well as eating well… or drinking, but still!

You continued your now lavish boar life in the trees and caves, no longer bored (I’m not sorry for reusing this pun.).

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍫🍦🍭୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

You had been in Teyvat for… a year now? No one suspected a boar of being the true creator, everyone was still being treated like shit by the “creator” and you were still tucked away in your little forest/cave structure home.

You got a little curious, and well?

You found that you could - in fact - do something cool!

You could control the elements! Outside of Teyvat just doing things that were in your best interests. You could grow vines! And spit fire! And burp lightning and squeal hard and loud enough that it created a whirlwind!

You could part the seas like Moses!

…

Anyway-

You may have gotten a bit carried away, feeling secure in where you were. So you let the churls braid some parts of your fur, and paint it… and they gave you a mask.

And you’d chase seelies. And rest with slimes.

And just do a lot of shit that most boars definitely couldn’t, wouldn’t and didn’t do.

And unfortunately, one night when you were doing a fire dance with one of your favorite hilichurl camps. (They were the ones to kill that first hunter. They also gave you your first mask and paint job).

Completely enveloped in the current happenstance, while you breathed large balls of fire into the night that somehow didn’t injure a single being nor set a single tree alight…

You missed the boy who believed he was a wolf watching from the shadows.

…Oops?

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : I’m shocked people actually like this thingy lol. Part 2 is on the way! As a treat, I fixed up some typos and fixed some grammar mistakes!

Have a good day/night dears! <3 ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

P. S. Now I made a tag as well!

[solbaby7]

Stuck Like Glue

rhysand x clingy!reader

warnings: light bullying, maybe some swearing

summary: You’re a little clingy and your High Lord never seems to mind but—maybe his friends do

clearing out my drafts, so don’t judge if it’s a lil short

—

It seemed harmless enough, hanging off of Rhysand’s shoulder or scuffling your way into his lap when the festivities had gotten entirely too much for you to endure on your own. His hand curls easily around your waist, fingers tapping at your thighs when you start pressing kisses down his neck in the middle of a conversation with one of the other High Lords.

Boredom quickly grew, excusing yourself with a kiss on Rhysand’s chest to go grab a drink. There’s more options to choose from than you can comprehend, drinks filled with hand tied tea bags or fresh fruit. You settle on something gentle, like tea with honey and you have full intentions to rush back to your High Lord, a smile in place and a few pastries in tow but the group he was speaking to before has huddled in closer, voices more hushed. “—just saying, Rhys. I don’t have a clue how you deal with her hanging off of you all the time.”

That was Cassian—cadence unmistakable even with all the overlapping voices in the crowd. Your smile falters, steps slowing as more of them pitch in, clapping sympathetic hands to Rhys’ shoulder and mumbling out different variations of how bad they felt for him. You say nothing, lemon tart shaking in your grasp and tears swell in your waterline as you wait for Rhysand to speak up—to tell them at they were stupid and wrong and had not the slightest fucking clue they were talking about.

But that never happens.

“She’s just a little attached—it’s cute.”

Attached.

You swallow the lump in your throat and enter again, a faux smile plastered in when you make a point to sit on the couch and not Rhysand’s lap. You refrain from reaching out to play with his fingers or trace the inky lines of his tattoos. There’s no spare kisses, no sweet words whispered for just the High Lord to hear, no fingers sneaking up to play in his hair or manicured nails scratching gentle patterns at the nape of his neck.

Just your hands in your lap, clutching that now half-cold cup of tea from before. “Baby, come sit over here.” Rhysand softly whispers, a hand already wrapping around your back to help move you but you stop him, head shaking in defiance as you slide just a little further away from him.

“That’s okay, there’s people around.”

“When has that ever stopped you before?”

He says it playfully but the smile you give back doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m okay, Rhys. Thank you.”

His brows furrow, confusion evident but he doesn’t fight you on it.

He does, however, notice the way you pull your hand away whenever he reached for yours and halfway through a conversation with some male Rhysand had apparently known since he was younger; he tries to kiss you. Just a quick peck but you only offer your cheek instead. His frown deepens, eyes barely tearing away from you to finish what they were talking about because your distance is unmistakable.

There’s no fingers toying with the crisp lines of his dress pants. No hair tickling at the side of his neck or legs wrapped around his waist and the absence makes his jaw clench.

Rhysand’s friends leave for only a second, making promises to return with more drinks and that they hoped the Lord of Darkness could still keep up and he chuckles back some half-assed comment before fully turning to face you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m having a great time.”

“You haven’t kissed me in hours.” It comes out like that’s the only fact he needed to make his point.

And to appease him now that no one was around, you lean forward and press a kiss to his mouth. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to be too much with your friends around.”

His brows raise again; that’s the second time now you’d said something along those lines. “Don’t worry about them—they’re just jealous anyway.”

You scoff like it’s an insult, quick to set the teacup down before you did something stupid like throw it. “Yeah, whatever.”

Rhysand forced you to meet his eye, a finger curled under your chin and you could feel the caress of his talons prodding at your mental barriers. “Show me what’s wrong.”

Your mouth opens to confess but out the corner of your eye you can see the guys returning, each holding their own bottle of whatever expensive liquor was left on display by the refreshment stands and your mouth shuts just as quickly. “There’s nothing wrong."

He doesn’t accept it, politely pulling you away from prying eyes. “Tell me, right now.”

A huffy sigh emits, shoulders slumping and tears well in your eyes. “I just want to have a good night without anyone thinking I’m too attached to you.”

His shoulders square out at the venom laced in the word and the previous conversation had between friends seemed to backfire. “Oh,” Guilty fingers trace warm cheeks, grazing over a wobbly chin and Rhys is crooning out apologies; promises that it wasn’t true—that he’d said whatever to get them off his back. “I didn’t mean it. I love when you’re all over me,” The truth in the words is undeniable and while you’d like to be mad, you really had missed the feel of him; his warmth and the grabby hands that always pulled you in closer.

“But, Cass said—“

“Cass is drunk and not getting any.” Rhys pulls you in closer, fingers raking through your hair while the other hand grips your hips just enough to push them flush with his own. The music thuds loudly, vibrating the floors and rattling the very blood in your body but everyone else seems to be having so much fun—laughing loudly and leaning into the other without the worry of being too much, too overbearing, too clingy or needy.

“But—“

“Don’t listen to him.” Pure affection sweetens his tone, love twinkling into amethyst irises when taking in every dip and curve of your features. “You’re perfect, just as you are.”

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Grocery Delivery

AO3

The knock at the door came as a surprise.

Opening it you found several grocery bags filled with items. Lifting the receipt from one of the bags you confirmed the address matched, and the order listed S. Riley. You know Simon’s last name was Riley. Would he be home soon? He typically messaged you a heads up to avoid, well you don’t know, maybe awkwardness? You never had men over for sexual reasons, but a group of friends for wine nights and games wasn’t out of the question.

Sending off a quick text you let Simon know his food arrived.

You got a message back almost immediately.

>Won’t be home for another week. Can you eat anything that will go bad?

Looking over everything as you unbagged it and placed it on the counter you were confused. Almost everything he bought was perishable, would need to be used in about a week and would feed you for at least a week and a half if you stretched it.

<Sure, I guess?

>Thanks.

The shop was almost bringing in a profit, a few more weeks of eating the left overs from the day and you would be able to start paying yourself more than the amount that covered rent, and car expenses.

You hadn’t been suspicious the first two times; shit happens and getting reassigned after being ready to go home was pretty normal for Simon.

But the third time? Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but three times? That’s a fucking pattern.

<Stop ordering food for me.

>Something wrong?

“Motherfucker you know something is wrong, you can’t just keep doing this!” You growled down at your phone.

>Watch me.

<If you put cameras up in our flat, I will smother you on your next leave.

>Better men than you have tried.

<*Lord of the Rings Meme* “I am no man.”

>No cameras but I could feel the anger radiating off my phone.

Pursing your lips you decided to leave him on read, let him suffer. Fucker.

Hours later at the shop a message pops through on your phone.

>You struggle to let people help you.

<Help is asked for, this is intrusive.

You set your phone down to greet a customer. When you returned there was one more message.

>You don’t have to earn help.

A hot spike of emotion ripped through you. Fighting back tears and nausea all at once you stepped into the cooler to cry. Sometimes having an observant man for a roommate fucking sucked.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[slepiesheep]

SpongeBob Truman show AU lets gooo!! Discussing with friends and feeling motivated. Setting takes place decades later. I will analyze, include about my theories, and intentions how the series ends. I made this for FUN, don’t take it too seriously. It's likely that you might not fully understand this if you haven't watched The Truman Show or are unfamiliar with the television theory by Alex Bale. I highly recommend watching the Television theory.

Just a quick note before we start: in the SpongeBob SquarePants universe, the show is canonically a show within the show. For instance, we've seen pirates getting excited about the first SpongeBob movie. Even Patchy the Pirate, the biggest SpongeBob fan, knows about SpongeBob's existence in real life (within the show). If i remember correctly, in the Sponge out of water movie, a child even saw SpongeBob and called out his name. I think that Scientists will do anything to make the show interesting and profitable.

There will be 2 parts of this story.

Part 1

SpongeBob, Squidward and Mr. Krabs gets to celebrate The Krusty Krab anniversary. Mr. Krabs wanted to set sail on a boat trip with SpongeBob, a father-son bonding experience. Mr. Krabs dressed in his sailor hat, a dark blue trenchcoat, and SpongeBob also wore sailor clothes. Yeah Mr. Krabs fucking dies because he took 50% of the show's profits and didn't perform his duties properly 😂 The producers decided to eliminate him from the show, leaving SpongeBob traumatized for his life to increase viewer interest. A horrible thunderstorm hit. SpongeBob tried to pull up Mr. Krabs, but his scrawny arms couldn’t do it. He only managed to grab his trenchcoat. Mr. Krabs’ body was never to be found. Now, SpongeBob is the manager of the Krusty Krab, responsible for keeping the secret formula safe. He opens a notebook to write down important information. Due to aging, SpongeBob started wearing glasses. Plankton tried to exploit his naive nature, but SpongeBob slowly became more mature and courageous like Mr. Krabs. It began to feel like a repeating pattern for SpongeBob. He wanted to get out from Bikini Bottom and experience a new life and travel around the wonders of the nature before growing old and dying. However, when he tried to purchase a ticket for a trip outside of Bikini Bottom, he found that it wasn't an option for him. Strange events happened to keep SpongeBob preoccupied and ensure his continued stay in Bikini Bottom. On his way to work, SpongeBob accidentally bumped into an elderly man, only later recognizing him as Mr. Krabs. Unforeseen, two men appeared, abruptly pulling Mr. Krabs away. creating a distraction with a group of anchovies.

Mr. Krabs boarded a bus as SpongeBob began to question why Mr. Krabs, who was presumed dead, was somehow still alive but never came back to him. Confused, he shared his thoughts with Squidward, who dismissed it and pretended nothing was wrong. Feeling unsettled, SpongeBob decided to visit Sandy at her treedome to talk about what he had seen. Just before putting on his water helmet, it hit him, how could Mr. Krabs have drowned when they all lived underwater? The thought made no sense, and the more he thought about it, the more his suspicions grew. He used to believe this kind of logic was normal. Unsure of what to believe, SpongeBob went to Patrick’s house to tell him about the strange encounter. Patrick seemed confused but not entirely surprised. It felt like Patrick knew something too, as if he'd experienced something similar, but he wasn't ready to talk about it. To distract SpongeBob, Patrick suggested they head to Goofy Goobers for ice cream, hoping to lift his friend’s spirits. The next day, SpongeBob had his driving test. Ms. Puff sat next to him in the boat, still baffled by the fact that after all these years, SpongeBob had yet to earn his license. Determined to do something different, SpongeBob unexpectedly drove off the course, speeding up. Ms. Puff panicked and shouted for him to stop. She was about to take control of the wheel but hesitated, knowing a sudden turn could cause an accident. Despite her pleas, SpongeBob kept going, lost in his own thoughts.

When he drove out of town, he encountered a crowd of people blocking the road. He slammed on the brakes just in time to avoid hitting anyone. A police officer quickly approached and explained that there had been a toxic gas leak in the area, and the entire place was being evacuated. "There’s no way through," the officer warned. Before letting him go, the officer added, “Make sure to drive slower, SpongeBob.” Hearing his name snapped something in SpongeBob, and without thinking, he floored it, trying to make a run for it. The police swiftly caught up with him, arrested him on the spot, and threw him in jail. He was locked up for just one second before they kicked him out again, sending him back on his way.

.

.

.

.

I'm exhausted. I just ate 15 bite-sized waffles while writing this, and honestly, I have no idea what I just wrote. I'll reread it tomorrow morning and fix any mistakes.

[widow-tarot]

MINI PAC READING: What Does Your Crush/Person Think/Feel About You?

Hey, guys! Since it's my birthday today (6th of September), I'm here to deliver a reading connected to my situation. Please don't choose more than 2 groups for one person!

POSSIBLE 18+

Also remember, it's only for entertainment purposes.

Leave a tip!

paypal.me/sadwidow

GROUPS:

1-2-3 4-5-6

GROUP 1

Cards: 9 of Wands rx, Page of Swords, The Devil, 8 of Cups, 7 of Pentacles, Knight of Pentacles rx.

First of all, if you're expecting any type of action/initiative from their side, you will be greatly disappointed. I have two messages for two very different crowds.

If you have a long history with this person (and I mean HISTORY with lots of stuff that happened, maybe some bitterness and regrets but also happiness) then this person is very conflicted about you and what to do. At the same time, they want to let go of this connection, free themselves and their mind, and start somewhere else far away from you but they also want to start again with you; do everything differently, clean slate. The question is "Is this possible?". They're at a stalemate, lots of thoughts running through their minds. It is a great burden to them.

If you don't know this person well, then I don't think they think about you all that much. They like talking to you (if you talk at all) or at least enjoy times when you're expressing yourself. They're very tired and some chaos in their personal lives makes them blind to potential romantic partners (could be they are going through something in their current relationship). Lowkey they just wanna be left alone. They're neutral about you.

GROUP 2 (18+)

Cards: Queen of Cups, 4 of Pentacles, Ace of Wands, King of Swords, The Hanged Man rx, Page of Swords.

They are very much attracted to you sexually and wanna fuck. They see as this emotionally mature and put together (in this case we got the feminine energy). They quite literally wanna wrap themselves around you (or make you stay with them, even for a little bit, hearing breakfast after sex or aftercare). We also got the masculine energy coming here with words (aka dirty talk, lots of foreplay and teasing, breath play). I also hear they wanna tie you up and make your world go upside down, I hear "make you feel so good you became dumb". They are the dominant and they know they have to prove their worth if you're going to consider them in any way or form.

GROUP 3

Cards: Queen of Wands rx, Page of Pentacles rx, Knight of Swords, Knight of Cups, Queen of Pentacles rx, Page of Swords.

Move on, my homie. There's no attraction nor desire to even keep you as a friend. It seems you don't learn from how they treat you or what they say to you (because I do feel like they told you repeatedly in different ways to back off but you disregarded their attempts). They were somewhat brutal in some ways in how they let you know they were not interested. They're also currently involved with multiple women, living that free love life. They don't feel the need to be in any sort of commitment and even if they were looking for something long-term, you're not the one on their mind.

GROUP 4

Cards: 3 of Pentacles rx, Death rx, The Hermit rx, 6 of Cups, The Emperor rx, The sun.

Once again there are messages for two different crowds.

You either know each other from your childhood or had brief connections in the past with each other but you never quite talked. There were always obstacles and you couldn't even make it last long enough to have a normal conversation, let alone a fling. You might have recently reunited. There's not much to say here about their feelings since it's very new and well, they're hopeful at least. It's very blurry but we have basically only major arcana so this is going to be interesting (I think it's worth a try).

You guys have a rocky history. Lots of downs, but the ups were worth the drama. However, you do seem to repeat lots of patterns, coming back to the same lake that you've drown in. I do see that they still have hope for this connection (and I think you do too since you're asking) but either you're going to change the dynamic between you or you're gonna be stuck in the endless loop of bad decisions and pain. Honestly this connection seems like can be a happy one (I think but well most of the cards are reversed so I'm not quite sure) but you need lots, and I meant LOTS of work here.

GROUP 5

Cards: 9 of Swords rx, 2 of Cups rx, Page of Swords rx, The Tower, Knight of Wands rx, 4 of Wands.

Did you have a fight? Lowkey I see there's no reconciliation here. They feel regret and somewhat sad but I see that whatever the two of you had, ended and will not be coming back for a long time (or forever, the energy is fluid so I don't want to assume). They wish they could make peace with you and go back to how it was, but they can't. I think they don't even want to talk to you or explain so why the regrets if they gave up already? So despite the desire to make peace, they don't intend on any action toward it, they're just distancing themselves.

GROUP 6

Cards: The Devil, 4 of Wands, Judgement, Queen of Cups, The Tower, 9 of Swords rx.

You are the temptation for them. I think they recently had a big break about you (hence The Tower) and honestly, they can't handle it. They don't know what to do and lowkey they are happy (like yay I have a crush!) but it's also terrifying. They see you as mature and put-together, not really sure if you're into them or if they deserve you (out of their league). They try to get out of this mindset tho, just give them time.

[jiminscockr1ng]

✩｡°𝄞🚨D-TOWN BABY 𝄞✨°｡✩

╝ •part one | part two ╔

╰₊𓂂➢ pairing: gang affiliated!yoongi x fem!reader

╰₊𓂂➢ genre: hood au, bother’s best friend au, smut, angst

╰₊𓂂➢ warn!ngs: use of the n-word, aave, [mentions of drugs, drug dealing, death, smoking and drinking], negligence due to use of drugs (reader’s mother), reader is heavily black coded, cat-calling, riding, oral (reader receiving), swallowing semen. (let me know if there’s more please!)

╰₊𓂂➢ summary: yoongi is apart of a gang called d-town, the gang your brother just so happens to be apart of.

╰₊𓂂➢ word count: 5,625 words

╰₊𓂂➢ author’s note: the inspiration came from me shouting “D-TOWN NIGGA!” at my sister while watching the Daechwita music video. lmao, i hope y’all enjoy it.

The headlights of your black honda civic shines on the group of men huddled together on the steps of the project building.

Smoking, drinking, talking and laughing loud as hell, and hitting licks.

You huff while turning your car off. Stepping out, your long, fern green skirt flows with the wind. Cleavage hanging out of your bohemian patterned shirt. As you approach the ran down project building you can hear the men on the stairs whistling at you.

You roll your eyes at the gang members who are shouting and cat-calling loud as hell— the whole block could hear.

“Damn Ma, can I get a 360?!” One of them call out. Before you could even flip him off, two familiar voices chime in.

“Chill, nigga.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

They say at the same time. The two voices could easily be distinguished as Trey (your brother) and Yoongi (your brother’s best friend).

Or their street names: Tre D and Agust D. The ‘D’ standing for D-Town. To which you find corny as hell because you all literally live downtown. All these corny ass niggas’ names end with D.

Once you’re right in front of the group of men your brother nods his head at you. That’s just him acknowledging your existence. The two of you have a complicated relationship. It’s only complicated because you don’t like his lifestyle (respectfully) but he won’t stop gang banging.

Nonetheless, you’d still take a bullet for that man. Vice versa.

“Yo, _______.” Yoongi speaks. From the looks of it, you can already tell he’s about to say some stupid shit. He has that sorry ass smirk on his face and keeps glancing around at his little posse. Leaning your weight on to one leg, you simply arch your brow at him.

“You gon’ let me tuck you in?” Your stoic expression remains the same. A few giggles are heard and your brother shakes his head. Trey is more than used to Yoongi making advances at you— he’s been fiend out for damn there 8 years.

Yoongi looks you up and down, adjusting his duffel bag on his shoulder. You smack your teeth and harshly brush past the men blocking your way up the stairs. Prior to entering the building you yell back at the long haired, pale man.

“Tuck your dick!”

SLAM! You slam the door shut, you can hear the distant instigating behind the door as you walk up the stairs to the shared apartment. Mumbling curse words on your way up.

Yoongi’s smirk never leaves, despite the instigation his crew nagged on about. He likes that shit. He loves it. Your hot temper and all of it. He knows that if he wanted to he could shut you right up. But you being mad at him kind of turns him on… so he’ll let you have it.

You’d prefer a nice and quiet, empty pathway to your home when you get off from work. You go through enough stress as it is. Another headache is exactly not what you needed.

Stepping foot into the dark apartment, you set your purse down and walk to your room, ready to get in the shower after a long day. The apartment is fairly big compared to the other units. More than enough space for you and your brother. Although, for the past year it’s really just been you occupying the space.

Trey is never home. He’s out and about being Tre D. He stopped coming home about a little over a year ago. It’s just gang related activities after the other, selling drugs, hanging out with D-Town and fucking random girls. Repeat.

It’s reasonable that you gave up on trying to stop him. He’s a grown man now and you can’t sit around all day to inspect your little brother’s everyday life to make sure he’s doing ‘the right thing’. He’s only 2 years younger than you but you always acted as a mother figure. Taking over that role after your mother got sprung out on crack and left you both.

Working your ass off everyday, feeding him and yourself, trying to make sure he’s doing well in school— all a waste of time. Now look. He’s outside of your shared apartment, probably not even going to come up stairs and is making way more money than you.

You regret the day he met those guys. And you regret even more when he dragged Yoongi along with him.

The thought of Yoongi makes you sigh. You pick up your towel to get in the shower, blasting Lauryn Hill as you lather your brown skin with smell-good soap. You manage to decompress in the shower. Tracking wet footprints to your bedroom as you approach the window, you look outside to see if they’re still there.

Yes. Yes they are. Your brother seems to be leaving and you can’t help but notice someone is missing from the gang.

And almost on queue— as if the devil himself set it up… you hear the front door opening. Letting out a groan, you go and peak out of your bedroom door.

“No need to hide, babygirl. Come on out.” Yoongi calls.

You roll your eyes before slamming your door. But like you figured, the door opens right back up and in comes Yoongi. He silently stands in front of the door after he closes it behind him, observing your figure that is semi-hidden behind the white towel you have on. Yoongi already has a little stiffy just by looking at you.

“Stop calling me babygirl you freak, I’m older than you.” You say, responding to the comment he made. He chuckles, walking over to sit on your bed while you apply lotion on your legs. He drops his duffel bag on the ground next to him.

“Yeah, by like a few months.” Looking down at him, you noticed that he’s man spreading, leaning on his arms that are propped up behind him on the bed. Refraining from gulping, you look away.

You don’t respond to him. Instead, you continue on with your nightly routine, pretending that the fine man is not sitting on your bed ready to pounce on you the second you say go. You can hear shuffling behind you as you fix your locs, putting them in the ponytail.

“_______, I got you something.” He says and you reluctantly turn around. This man really doesn’t learn or care to catch a hint. In his hand is a book. A book that you’ve been searching for everywhere and is sold out.

“How…” is all you can mutter out. Out of all of Yoongi’s highly prestigious and unusual gifts he attempts to give you, this has got to be the best one yet. Best, because you actually wanted it. Not that that Birkin Bag was easy to donate— that was a struggle.

“Uh— I saw you were looking for this shit everywhere on your spam.” You furrow your eyebrows.

“Why the hell are you on my spam page?!”

“So I had drove damn there 2 fucking hours to get this shit.” He says, ignoring the previous question.

You love it. You want to snatch the book out of his long slender fingers, throw your bonnet on and start reading immediately. But—

“I can’t take that Yoongi.” The sentence isn’t something that he hasn’t heard before. You tell him every single time he comes up to your apartment trying to hand you something he bought for you. You never take shit from him and if you do, it gets donated almost immediately.

He scoffs. Honestly looking a little pissed off— fed up to be exact. “What do you mean you can’t take it? Didn’t you hear me, _______?” He stands up, book still in hand. “I drove 2 hours for a fucking book!” He exclaims.

It’s not like you’re meaning to be a bitch. You’d just rather not take anything that was bought with drug money. Even the book you’ve been dying to read for months.

“Listen Yoongi—”

“Agust D.” He corrects.

“I’m not calling you that shit!” A smile cracks onto his face. Just a small one. Because, as mentioned before, he loves that shit. But he’s still fed up.

“I can’t take that. It’ll be donated just like the other gifts you attempt to bribe me with.” You say and he sets the book on the bed, stepping closer to you. “I’m not bribing you _______. I just wanna spoil you, just let me do that.”

“No! I don’t want anything you or my brother buy with your fucking D-Town money. You can keep all of that shit!” You roar while waving your arms around. He sighs, running his fingers through his long black hair, letting it fall back in place. “Money is money, _______.”

“I’m not doing this with you, Yoongi.” Arguing with him back and forth is like arguing with a wall. You two could go on and on about the lifestyle he and Trey are choosing to live.

Yoongi walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You don’t pull away. Despite how stubborn you are, you’d never deny Yoongi’s touch whenever you feel him. It’s instant stress relief.

“I’m trying, _______.” He calmly says in your ear. The disembodied voice— so husky yet smooth. It sends shivers down your back and all of the hair on your arms stand tall.

“Try harder then.”

“Why are you like this?” You scrunch your face up. “Like what?!” You can feel him shrug his shoulders behind you.

“Like… stubborn and petty.” Offended, you scoff.

“Stubborn and petty like your mama?” It was a quick little insult— a joke! Everyone says it. Plus, you had to think of a come back quick or else you know Yoongi would’ve known that you knew what he said was partially accurate. But when you feel the tight hold Yoongi had around your waist loosen… you knew you fucked up.

“You know my moms’ is dead.” You immediately twist your body around to face him, your towel nearly unraveling. You quickly catch it. “Omg, I did not mean it like that, for real. I was just saying shit!” You ramble on and on about how you don’t think before speaking and how sorry you are.

Then he laughs. Like actually laugh. Not a corny little smirk or the low chuckle he does when he’s around his boys— not even a light smile. He gave you his infamous, gummy smile, shoulder bouncing laugh. He even threw his head back for a second.

You really couldn’t help but smile. You missed that laugh. Having been reunited with it after so long makes you forget everything said and done. Because that’s the Yoongi you know, the Yoongi you grew up with, the Yoongi you loved. You smile at the taller man still looking at you with that cute gummy smile even after the laughter died down.

“Stop apologizing _______, I was just fucking with you.” You scoff but the smile never fades, even when you playfully punch his shoulder. “That’s not funny!” He nods his head in agreement as if he wasn’t just literally laughing his ass off.

“It was just funny seeing you speak like that. First time in mad long you didn’t have that stick that you love so much up your ass.” Looking up at him, you can’t even be mad at what he just said. Not when all the old feelings were suddenly rushing back in. The ones you fought off years ago.

“Yeah,” you switch your focus onto the ground. “It was nice seeing you laugh like that.” His fingers lightly grip your chin to lift your head back up to look him in the eyes. Your heart is doing backflips but in your head there are a million different alarms going off, screaming ‘abort!’.

“You always make me laugh. Whether I’m laughing around you or at home in my bed, laughing about something that you said. You make me…” He trails off making you furrow your eyebrows a bit.

“Make you what?” He sighs, scratching the back of his head, looking out of the window. You shove his shoulder to get his attention again. “Make you what?!” He looks down at his shoes as if the answer was written on them. They weren’t. You checked.

“You make me… hmmph.” He mumbles and you slap your hands on your naked thighs in frustration. You grip his face in your whole hand to get him to stop looking around the room helplessly, like a mother trying to force feed their child.

“What!” You scream.

“Happy!” He reciprocates the volume, eyes going wide when he finally lets the shit flow free. Your hand slowly drops from his face. “Damn— satisfied?” He sassily asks, rolling his eyes. Too in shock to even say anything, you just stand there with your eyebrows high, looking like a dumbass.

“_______,” he starts, earning you attention. So many thoughts sprint through your mind as you stare up into his sharp brown eyes. It’s really hard to believe that after everything, he still found happiness in you. You can’t recall the last time you felt happy in Yoongi’s presence. The man that you once loved. You and Yoongi never dated, never slept together, never really announced any feelings for each other either. The relationship the two of you had was unspoken. You knew the love was there— he did too, and that was enough.

“I need you to know, that I want you.” He says seriously. Your heart drops at the words. No.

No, not now. Why now?

“I want us, _______.” You could melt underneath his gaze. You feel yourself slowly folding. Ready to submit and give into him— give into your heart that’s been begging to be his for 7 years now. “Tell me you want this too.”

Yes, tell him you want this. Want all of him. Because you do… but you can’t. It’s not the same. This is not the same as it was 7 years ago. Yoongi isn’t the same. You can’t do it.

“I can’t— I don’t… want this.” You try to stand strong but you’re weak. Yoongi always did that to you. “You don’t or you can’t— which one is it?” He says, already knowing the answer. He needs to hear it from you though. You sigh, closing your eyes. “Yoongi—”

“No _______ tell me right now why you can’t just let us be happy?” Yoongi’s frustration is valid. But so is yours. You try to walk away from him, to get away, like those alarms that kept going off in your head a few minutes ago told you to do. But Yoongi isn’t having it. He already laid his heart out there, he just wanted you to take it— for it to be yours. So he grabs your arm. “Don’t walk away from me.” You yank your arm back immediately.

“I fucking can’t Yoongi! You want me to stand here, laugh, ‘kee-kee’ in your face. Tell you I want you and that I want this just for you to go back to the streets the next second someone calls you.” You’re out of breath from all of the screaming, no doubt the neighbors were gonna report. But you aren’t done.

“D-Town tells you to jump, you ask how high. I ask you to get your life together, to get off of the streets and I’m left with the same answer. I’m not gonna be one of those bitches that hold you down when you decide to get into some dumb shit and I’m damn sure not gonna be the person people have to get in touch with because their fucking boyfriend died doing some fuck shit.” The undertone of your face is red and your hands are shaking. “It’s bad enough my brother is in to deep. I’m not trying to have to worry about someone else.”

Yoongi’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he takes in everything you said. You’ve never been this vulnerable. With anyone. You’ve never said any of this to anyone but you don’t want to keep having the same interactions over and over with him.

“I understand.” Is all he says. And it’s all he has to say. You know he’s not gonna quit the streets until the streets quit him. After all, that’s how it works. But he really did understand and if that’s how you feel he won’t push it.

“Can I just lay with you?” Before you can even protest he raises his hands to clarify. “Just for tonight. Can you please… just do this for me? Let me lay with you.” You sigh, over analyzing the possibility. In the end you conclude it was fine. So you grab your pajamas and change in the bathroom. When you come back in, Yoongi is already laying in the bed. Shirtless and wearing nothing else but the pair of basketball shorts he had in his bag. The book resting on your nightstand.

Your pajamas includes a sage green tank top and a beige pair of cotton shorts. You lie next to him in your bed after cutting the lights off. His body instantly cuddles into yours.

“Yoongi,” you call out. “Your head is on my boobs.” He chuckles into the pair before raising his head to look at you. “You used to always let me lay on your boobs. They’re comfortable.” He says with a faint pout, poking your plushy boobs with his finger, making you flinch.

“Yoo— will you stop poking me!” You say frustratedly. “It tickles.” Yoongi perks up at that. “It tickles, huh?” He sings, continuing to poke you. His fingers pokes at your chest, your sides, your neck. You try to fight him off but your laughter is making you weak. “Stu— stop!” You cry out and he just giggles at your plea. It’s really over once he hovers his body over yours, locking yours in place underneath him.

Your face hurts from laughing so hard, can’t even manage to fight it anymore. The poking eventually stops but the soft giggles and toothy smile on your face doesn’t falter. Yoongi’s eyes sparkle as they bore into yours. He carefully places his hand on your cheek, thumb caressing your lifted cheekbone.

“You’re so pretty, _______.” He observes your features from above and his heart pounds against his chest. The pace aligned with yours. “Sometimes,” he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. “I forget just how pretty you are. So I come to bother you— just to see you. But when I have you this close… you make me want to leave everything else behind just so I can be with you.”

That’s all you really wanted. For Yoongi to leave all the bullshit alone. Maybe then you two could work.

But you know that all of this is just pillow talk. Yoongi would never do that. Not for you. Not for anyone. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Yoongi.” You speak mellowly. He lifts his head out of your neck to look at you again. “I can’t tell you how I feel now?” You roll your eyes. “You can but don’t sit here and lead me on to believing in a lie.”

He doesn’t respond. You feel his lips on your cheek. Eyes widening, you look at him in confusion. “What are you—”

“I’m not lying to you, _______.” He kisses your forehead. “Even with everything that happened, no matter what you say to me— I never told you a lie and I don’t plan to.” He leans in to give you another kiss but pauses. His face just an inch away. Your breath hitches at the close proximity, growing nervous when his eyes focus on your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers softly against your lips. Your mind isn’t working. There’s no alarms blaring, no weird gut feeling, just you. Underneath him. Without much thought, you mutter a breathy “yes.”

He leans in, his lips molding perfectly with yours. It’s soft and passionate and you’re worried that you just might have a heart attack the way your heart is pacing. Your fingers travel their way through his long strands of hair as you happily taste the minty flavor of his mouth— covering up the taste of cigarettes. When he pulls away to catch his breath, you immediately pull him back down. Now that you got a taste of him, you don’t want to let it go.

The kiss starts getting heated when Yoongi rolls off of you and pulls you on top of him. His hands roam the surface of your back, letting them slip under your tank top. You bite on his bottom lip once you pull away, letting your soft brown hands travel up his abdomen to his solid chest. Your back arches as you leave open mouth kisses against his chest. He takes the opportunity to cup your ass into his hands, occasionally squeezing the fleshy rump.

You slightly shift your hips up against him to lift up. “Fuck,” Yoongi lets out a shaky breath. “Don’t move like that.” You furrow your brows in confusion but you quickly understand when you feel something poking your thigh. In shock, you shift again. A low groan leaves Yoongi’s mouth and he places his hands on both sides of your waist.

You watch as his eyes squeeze shut, the action and the sound he let slip gave you that tingling feeling in your stomach, that familiar sensation fluttering in between your legs. You do it again. Wanting to hear that sound from him again.

“Seriously, you don’t want this to go further than it already has.” True. You don’t, but you’re a little too lust filled to think straight. And the fact that Yoongi is hard as a rock underneath you has you wet. Grinding your clothed sex onto his bulge.

“Yo, I—”

“Shut up.” You say, placing your hands on his chest to support yourself as you grind against him. The lewd sounds that escape from both of your mouths flood the room. Yoongi’s basketball shorts get bunched up in the process, the repeated action dragging the band down, exposing his boxer briefs underneath.

You lift your hips up to pull the shorts down but Yoongi stops you. He sends you a warning look that reads, ‘don’t do this.’

Regardless, you enthusiastically yank them and his boxer briefs down his thighs, letting his dick stand tall against his lower stomach. “_______, you’re confusing me.” He says while you’re busy scrapping to get the clothing from around his ankles, satisfied when they hit the floor. You turn around, looking down at him once again.

“You’re confused? Hm, I thought you were hard.” Speaking sarcastically, you turn your focus onto Yoongi’s member. You grip his length in your hand, brushing your thumb over his sensitive tip making Yoongi twitch.

“A little bit of both honestly. I mean, mostly hard but— woah woah woah, stop!” Yoongi panics once you put your mouth on his dick. He immediately sits up, his back resting against the head board. “I’m not doing this with you.” He says, to which one of your eyebrows flick up.

“Why not?” You scoff. “You don’t seem to have any problem fucking all these other bitches.” Yoongi lets out an unamused laugh, wiping his hands over his face. “You’re not other bitches. You don’t throw yourself on my dick.”

“I just did!” Technically, you did.

Yoongi scoffs, mumbling something under his breath. “It’s not the same thing. You’re invested in this _______ and you know it.” You turn your head away from him, not wanting to hear the truth. “I don’t need you to have another reason to hate me.” Rolling your eyes—

“I don’t hate you.”

“You’re just saying that.” You shake your head, scooting closer to him. “I’m not. I don’t hate you, Yoongi.” You repeat, your fingers go to his hair and you focus on the way his dark hair fall on your skin before looking at him again. “And right now… I’m horny, so.” You sit in front of him, anticipating his response.

“Okay.” He shrugs.

“Okay, what?” He grabs your waist gently, pulling you closer to him. Your lips lock onto his again and this time, the pace quickens. Yoongi’s hands reach for your tank top to pull it over your chest, you lift your arms as he pulls it off, slinging it across the room. Like clockwork, you drag your shorts down as well, tossing them in the corner without a care in the world.

Yoongi’s hands roam all over your body. Taking in the feel of your body being close to his. He retracts from the kiss to drool over your body. His pale hands over your brown skin, the only source of light coming from the window. “What do you want me to do, _______?” He asks, palming your breast in both hands. You bite your lip as you look down at him touching you.

“Can I ride you?” You ask in a whisper and you could’ve swore you felt Yoongi’s dick twitch on your thigh right after the words fell off your tongue. He felt like doing a backflip. An ability he doesn’t have but that’s how you make him feel. It’s just like you to want to ride him— it being your first time even having sex with each other.

“Fuck yes.” You let out a giggle at Yoongi’s expression before leaning over to open the top drawer of your nightstand. His eyes travel with your every movement. “What are you doing?”

“Grabbing a condom.” You popped out. He purses his lips at that. “Guess I’m not the only one you’ve been wrestling in the sheets with.” Looking back at the man with the condom in your hand, the jealous look on his face makes you want to run over to your phone to take a picture. Instead you laugh.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You say, ripping open the packet. “I bought them because they’re a necessity. I’m not fucking anyone— but i’m glad I did buy them.” Yoongi raises an eyebrow in curiosity. “I’d rather not have the neighborhood’s dick in me raw.”

It’s almost comedic the way his jaw drop. “Neighborhood’s dick is cuh-razy!” Slipping the condom on his length, you let out a giggle. Once you’ve got it on all the way you grip his shoulders, lifting your cunt over it. “It’s okay,” you jokingly reassure. “I’ll make sure to give you a good rating.”

“Oh, you got jokes— oh shit.” His demeanor changes once you rub his tip against your wet slit. “Are you—,” He reaches out to drag a finger through your folds. “You’re mad wet.” He states the obvious and when he pulls his finger away, your arousal drags with it. Without a second thought, he lifts his finger to his mouth, sucking on it to taste you. A low moan leaves his mouth. His eyes never leaving yours.

“You ready or did you change your mind?” You shake your head slowly, feeling more aroused than ever. “I’m ready.”

Once again, you maneuver his length through your folds before aligning it at your entrance. You take a deep breath and Yoongi’s hands rub your back. You slowly lower yourself down his length, feeling the pressure of him stretching you out. Your mouth falls agape when his full length is inside of your cunt.

After a few more rounds you get used to it. Yoongi stares at the action of your pussy swallowing his length. Your pussy is so tight around him, he’s afraid he might cum too fast.

He curse in your ear as you begin to ride him faster. “Fuck— you’ve been holding back on me for all these years.” Yoongi moves his hips, helping thrust into you. Your tits jump along with you as you bounce on his cock. So deep, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoes throughout the quiet apartment.

“Ah, Yoongi!” You moan out and Yoongi feels himself growing light headed. “You’re making me go crazy, _______.” He slams into your pussy faster— harder. At this point you weren’t even moving. Yoongi was the one in control of your body.

Especially when he moves you off of him, switching positions to take full control. You lie on your back, abandoned pussy and all. “Yoongi, put it back in.” You beg.

He shushes you before bending down, face in between your legs. His mouth attacks your wet cunt. He flatten his tongue to fully taste your sex. Licking and sucking all of you. His mouth sucks on your clit making you scream out in pleasure while his three fingers abuse your hole. “Yoongi, fuck that feels so good.” He slightly smirks up at you.

“Tell me whose pussy this is.” He says lowly. You could’ve came right then and there just from how sexy he said it. All dominant and territorial. The way he looks— his long dark hair sticking to his face and neck.

“Yuh— oh my god!” You moan out as your legs begin to shake at the overwhelming stimulation of his mouth and fingers.

“Tell me.” He demanded a bit louder.

“Yours Yoongi! It all yours, mm.” His fingers moves faster and you grip the sheets for moral support. “F- Fuck me Yoongi. I want your dick inside me.” It doesn’t take long before he obeys. He lifts up, just before you could orgasm and slides his hard dick inside of you. With Yoongi in control now, the pace is much faster. He lifts one of your legs up, putting it over his shoulder for better access.

Going deeper inside of you, hitting all of the right spots. You pull him down towards your body, your nails digging into his back, creating little crescent moon shaped marks. Chest to chest, Yoongi penetrates your pussy as the two of you share a feverish kiss.

“I’m gonna cum, Yoongi.” You say against his lips, out of breath. He rapidly nods his head. “Cum, mm.” His thrusts slow down, instead he makes sure to go deeper, hitting your spot repeatedly, making your legs shake around him. “Cum for me, _______.”

A few thrusts later and you cream on his dick. He pulls out, slips off the condom and starts stroking his dick. You place your hands over his, moving your mouth towards his tip. When the long drags of warm semen pour out you catch every drop of it. Mouth wide open, tongue out— you swallow his cum. Licking the tip afterwards for good measure.

Yoongi’s heavy breathing fills the room as he collapses on the bed. You get up to throw the used condom out and to collect your pajamas off the floor, walking with a bit of a limp. You toss Yoongi his basketball shorts before cleaning yourself up in the bathroom and changing.

When you come back, you find Yoongi already in his basketball shorts lying on the bed still. “Not gonna dip?” You ask, trying to sound nonchalant. You don’t want him to go but you don’t need him to know that. You were just awfully vulnerable and something similar to regret is already creeping up on you.

“Naw, why would I?” You shrug before laying in bed next to him. Not even being able to position yourself, he makes sure he cuddles into you, your face close as hell to his. “So how was the neighborhood’s dick?” He jokingly asks, laughing after. You lightly punch his chest.

“I’m not finna play with you Yoongi.” Yoongi serves you a feigned pout. “Awe, you regretting it already?” You don’t say anything because you really don’t know if you are. You don’t regret the sex because— fuck that was amazing. Best dick you ever had and you really will give him a good rating. However, the things that were said could’ve stayed unsaid. You shared too much vulnerability and that’s not something you’re comfortable with. The last thing you need is Yoongi to throw any of that shit back up in your face.

“I don’t regret it.” You conclude. His arms wrap around your waist tighter, grabbing one of your legs to wrap it around him. “But it won’t happen again. This was a one time thing.”

“But you swallowed my cum.” He pouts again and for some reason you don’t think it’s feigned this time. So you lightly smack his lips. Too much of a distraction.

“Because I didn’t want to get my covers dirty, you freak.” He dramatically raises his eyebrows. “So now I’m back to being a freak.” You sigh because it seems like he’s purposely not paying attention to what you’re actually trying to say.

“Yoongi.” You say seriously making him nod his head. “Okay, I got it. it was a one time thing.” Despite his display of understanding, you can’t help but hear the underlying disappointment in his voice.

You lay in his arms for hours. Neither of you fall asleep, replaying the previous events in your head. You debate with yourself whether or not you’re being in denial, too petty, stubborn, unreasonable. Whether or not you should give Yoongi a chance. Because right now you feel safe. Right now, everything is okay while your head rests against his beating chest. Right now…

“AGUST D GET YO’ ASS DOWN HERE NIGGA!”

You jump. You and Yoongi both lift up— your face of shock is a bit different from his. He knows what it is and you think you do too. That’s why you’re shook as fuck. The shouting and calling through the window doesn’t stop. And when Yoongi arms unravels from your waist, your heart sinks.

“What is that?” You ask.

And when that same, familiar, sorry ass, corny ass smirk that you hate so damn badly form onto Yoongi’s face… you knew.

“That’s D-TOWN BABY.”

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[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. 

[loveshotzz]

My name’s Elvira, but you can call me tonight

steve harrington x eddie’sbestfriend!reader

Hell N Back

summary: A flash flood warning, a week of cancelled plans, and the night Steve Harrington shows up at your front door.

wc: 5.2k

warnings: 18+ mentions of weed smoking (r), thigh riding, fingering, oral (fem receiving) and you know I can’t get enough of making Steve cum in his pants.

A/N: thank you all for your patience with this one, and thank you for reading 🥹♥️

🎃<- chapter two | mini series masterlist

It felt like it had been raining for days, the downpour never ceasing until there were flash flood warnings lighting up the bottom of your TV screen by the end of the week. You hadn’t seen Steve since Tina’s party, every plan that your group had getting canceled by the clouds that never seemed to want to leave Hawkins. 

Heavy droplets hit your window in the living room in sporadic patterns, the wind outside making the howling noise you’ve only ever heard on your favorite horror movies. The flicker of your candles dance along your walls, mixing with the warm glow of your string lights just like that night, and for once you don’t try and stop the thoughts of him that threaten to consume the rest of your evening.

Laying bundled up on the couch in a pair of sleep shorts and an oversized sweater, the black and white sci fi movie The Empire of The Ants plays on your TV while Elvira’s bubble gum sweet voice cracks lewd jokes over the B rated film. The Halloween Macabre special was your only saving grace this week, that and the thick fuzzy Jack O Lantern socks on your feet gifted from Robin.

You giggle to yourself at a joke about her boobs in particular, the half smoked joint on your coffee table makes it easy to wonder if Steve would have thought it was funny too.

Jesus Christ.

You huff a little, pulling the throw blanket closer to your chin, eyebrows furrowing in a pout. 

How did this happen? When did this happen? 

Before you have time to think too hard about it, lights flash behind your blinds dancing across the exposed glass in the opening from outside. You keep your eyes trained on it until they cut and the darkness from before takes over, shrugging it off to it being your neighbor coming home from work. Shuffling your feet under your blanket, you burrow yourself further into the cushions finally getting the level of comfort you’d been searching for since the movie started, but it only lasts a couple of minutes. Three melodic knocks rattle your front door, scaring you out of your fleece cocoon and onto your carpeted floor.

“God dammit!” You grunt, pushing yourself up and tossing the blanket on the couch, “Fucking Munson.”

It’s only when you get halfway to your door that you realize it’s definitely not Eddie or he would have let himself in with the spare. Your footsteps stop as you remember that this is actually how every single horror movie starts out. It’s almost as if whoever it is can read your mind, and a familiar voice calls out from the other side.

“It’s Steve!”

Relief floods your system, and your shoulders slump as your heart rate starts to calm, but then the realization that Steve Harrington was on the other side of your door unannounced just kicks it back up again. Especially when you look down at what you’re wearing.

“If this is weird or you have someone over, I can leave!“ He talks loud enough to be heard over the rain, but it still threatens to drown him out.

“No!” You don’t mean to yell when you answer, clearing your throat, you try to play it off when you continue, “I’m coming, sorry I’m coming!”

Taking a deep breath you pad the few extra steps to your door, straightening your shoulders before your fingers wrap around the handle. There’s a silent count to three before you actually open it. 

The sound of the rain you’d only heard muffled from behind your window grows tenfold, making you wince at the difference at just how hard it’s still coming down. A chilled mist hits your exposed skin from the wind, sending a shiver down your spine and you’re met face to face with a very wet version of the boy you were just thinking about.

“Jesus, Steve! Why didn’t you call?!” You scold, stepping aside to let him into the warmth of your apartment. Shutting the door quickly behind him, a flash of lighting illuminates half the night sky followed by a low roll of thunder.

“I know, I know.” He gives, running a hand through his soaked hair pushing it out of his face. His smile almost looks victorious when he shows you the whites of his teeth. “My power went out.”

His Hawkins Community College sweater clings to parts of his stomach and chest, the worn heather gray cotton turning dark. The water makes the blue denim on his legs even tighter than normal, sticking to him like a second skin and you have to actively stop your eyes from lingering as he drips a mess onto your floor. His white sneakers squish, completely drenched down to his socks and he still somehow looks handsome as ever.

“Robin lives like two blocks away from you.” You arch your brow, flipping your lock to stop anymore horror movie cliches from happening, only for the string lights in your living room to flicker as you do. The energy in the air is laughing at you. 

Steve’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of the rosy pink they were from the cold of the storm, and that’s when you notice the shopping bag.

“Did your power actually go out?” The corners of your mouth twitch, crossing your arms across your chest. The bottom hem of your sweater lifts higher up your thighs and Steve licks his lips, following it.

“I don’t know why I said that,” he huffs out an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “What a weird lie, right?”

“Kinda,” you giggle, eyes catching the colorful packaging of the popcorn and Red Vines inside the plastic in his hand, the knot in your stomach tightens knowing that he’s been thinking about you too.

“I just felt like if I had called I wouldn’t-“ he coughs looking anywhere but you, “I heard from Eddie that Elvira’s Halloween special was on tonight and I just thought, you know we had kinda talked about it before-“

“Do you want to get out of those clothes?” You cut him off, making his eyes snap up wide. “I mean, wow, that came out a little forward.” 

It’s your turn to laugh awkwardly.

“Eddie just leaves stuff here all the time, I clean it obviously or it’d make my place reek.” You try to explain in an attempt to break the tension and it works when you get that lopsided grin that makes you go shy. “I’m sure I’ve got some sweats and a shirt that would fit, I can throw your wet clothes in the dryer if you want?”

Steve’s shoulders relax, nodding, pushing back that loose strand that drips falling over his forehead.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

——

When Steve hands you his wet clothes through the crack of your bathroom door, it makes your brain stop working for a second. You catch a glimpse of his bare back in the mirror, littered with more moles and freckles that would make the sky hidden behind the clouds jealous. With thicker thighs than your best friend, it makes the cotton of the sweatpants that hang low on his hips stretch tight over his butt. The dark patch of chest hair that’s always just been teased comes into full view right in front of you and your throat goes dry. Why did it look so soft? 

Steve catches you staring, the tips of his ears dusting red before mumbling a mess of sorry’s shutting the door again. You shout an awkward apology of your own, soft thumps on your carpet as you hurry the wet clothes to your dryer. Silently scolding yourself to get it together, feeling the heat rise from your neck to your face, even warming your ears. God, he looked even better without a shirt on.

“You’re good, everything’s chill, you’re totally fine it’s just Steve.” You whisper under your breath, tossing the clothes into the machine with a wet plop. The last part has you rolling your own eyes at yourself, throwing in a couple of dryer sheets for good measure. 

Your nerves make you want to keep busy, so you start rummaging through the bag he brought in the kitchen. Butterflies taking flight in your rib cage when it’s everything the two of you had picked out that first night. You bite your lip to hide your smile, opening the popcorn to put in the microwave when you hear the soft click of the bathroom door opening. His feet sound heavier than yours on the carpet,and you make sure to have your back towards him when he finally enters the kitchen. Plugging in the minutes, the loud beeps of your microwave only add to the tension that hangs thick, almost suffocating you in the air.

“I mean, everything fits… I guess.” 

He breaks the silence right as the low hum kicks on and you watch the small bag start to spin on the glass plate. You collect yourself quietly before turning around, not expecting the sight you’re met with to send you into a fit of giggles. Slapping a hand over your mouth in an attempt to stop it, you take in the faded black Iron Maiden shirt you gave him. 

You realize now with him standing in front of you that it's a size too small for the King of Hawkins, probably one of Eddie’s old one’s from high school. The worn fabric fits tight over his chest, making ‘Eddie’s’ face stretch distorted over his pecs. The sleeves look ready to burst at the seams, and the bottom hem refuses to meet the top of his sweats. Revealing a little sliver of his tan skin and the beginnings of the thick happy trail you’ve shamelessly thought so much about. 

It’s the cutest you think he’s ever looked, besides that one summer he worked at Scoops Ahoy. 

“Hey! That doesn’t make me feel very good.” Steve chuckles, his cheeks becoming a permanent shade of red for the night.

“No, no, you look cute!” You try to get out, but the snort he gives you in response makes you giggle harder. “I promise, I wouldn’t lie to you!”

The way your lips twitch when you say it makes his eyes roll, but even with a shake of his head, the smile on his face gives him away. He can’t be mad, not when you just called him cute.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” He runs a hand through his hair that’s already started to dry, curling in wisps behind his ears. The gold that kisses the tips shimmers in the low light of the kitchen. 

The unexpected first loud pops of the kernels stop any other words that sit on the tips of your tongues, making you both jump at the sudden outburst.

“Why don’t you go warm up on the couch, since you decided to come over for a date during the storm of the century and I’ll bring the snacks out.” You try to keep your tone as even as possible, refusing to meet his eyes after saying the ‘D’ word, busying yourself again with grabbing cups for some hot tea.

You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat from across the room in the moment of silence that follows. Not even realizing you're holding your breath until you feel the heat of his palm against the small of your back and it exhales through nervous lips. 

He smells like the rain that won’t stop pouring outside with notes of cedar from his cologne. There’s an undertone of the lilac from your dryer sheets. He’s spring in the middle of autumn, leaning in close to your ear.

“Only if I get to be the big spoon again.”

The way your cheeks push up, and your lashes flutter against the tops of them when he makes his intentions clear, he thinks he’d drive through a hurricane to get to you.

——-

When you get to the living room he’s lying where you were earlier, doing his best to get comfortable, but the size of the shirt has him pulling at the sleeves to get them to loosen up. Muttering under his breath, your giggle is what catches his attention. Big chestnut eyes look up at you, and all the annoyance on his face drains with a smile he can’t contain. 

“What? It’s literally cutting off my circulation.” He laughs sitting up, his hair now completely out of control. “You sure this is Munson’s?”

“Yes, but I’m starting to think from, like, junior year.” You try to hide your grin when his jaw drops in disbelief. 

“That explains a lot,” he scoffs 

You watch him lean forward to grab a handful of the popcorn, the fabric restricting him again, and both of you hear the faint sounds of a tear. His eyes lock with your in a dead stare making you throw your head back in a full bellied laugh. Rib cage tightening just like your chest with the realization of how much you actually like him. 

“I’m glad you’re having a good laugh, you’re lucky you’re so pretty, I’ll tell you that much.” He grumbles reaching forward for the popcorn again only this time is successful, probably due to the rip, and something shifts in the air when his words sink in. 

“Sometimes it gets me out of things.” You grin, a little shy just for him.

“I’m not surprised in the slightest.” He licks the butter off of his fingers, pink lips wrapping around the tips as he leans back into the cushions. He watches how it makes your thighs press, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

“Are you gonna keep hogging the couch or are you makin’ room for me?” You fake annoyance gesturing toward the way he's manspread on the cushions, doing your best to try and cover up how flustered you feel, but the way his eyes seem to light up tells you it isn’t working. 

Shifting himself back to lay on his side, he lifts the covers with raised eyebrows and the kind of shit eating grin you want to kiss off of him.

“I was just waiting to see if you were gonna stand the whole movie or not.” 

You make him snort when you roll your eyes, and he tries to play it cool when the smell of your apple blossom body wash fills his senses as you take the small space he’s made for you next to him. Swallowing hard, you leave a little bit of room between you, the nerves in your stomach starting to feel like an Olympic gymnast is competing for the gold. The heat of his breath fans against the back of your neck, his own insecurity making it come out a little shaky having you this close again. The tension breaks when he goes to wrap his arm around you and another sound of a rip hits both your ears.

“Jesus Christ,” he grumbles over your fit of giggles, his face turning a deeper shade of red that you can’t see. “I swear I’m not trying to take my clothes off but this is not working honey.”

His laugh puffs across your skin, making goosebumps rise when he shifts to sit up a little bit. Turning your head, you meet his anxious eyes over your shoulder.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen you shirtless Harrington,” you tease, your own face heating up in memory of the view you got minutes ago in your bathroom.

“It’s not, like, going to make you uncomfortable or anything right? I swear this isn’t like a move - not that I don’t want to make a move -“ The boy looks panicked, his signature tell of running his hand through his hair coming into play.

“Steve, it’s fine, take it off” you giggle, “It’s clearly a size too small.”

He huffs out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, rosy cheeks deflating before a toothy grin spreads across his face.

“Okay, yeah, al-alright.”

You turn your attention back to the TV to give him some ‘privacy’, your heart going into overdrive when you see the fabric drop to the floor in front of you. The couch shifts under his weight as he lays back down, and for a second you think you can hear his heart over your own. Tentative hands find their way to your hips, fingers digging into your softness when he pulls you in, the warmth of his bare chest seeps through the thick fabric of your sweater and your body melts against it. You feel the way it makes him relax behind you, a stubble covered chin hooking over your shoulder while your feet tangle with his. A content hum, leaves from between his lips next to your ear, the tip of his nose nudging behind it as he snuggles closer and it feels like he’s breathing you in.

“Mmm, so what’d I miss?” His voice comes out a little sleepy, and you hate the way it makes your thighs press. You wonder if he could feel it.

“So basically this woman cons people to buy houses on this island,” you start, stuttering when you feel the tips of his fingers under your sweater that sits rucked up to your waist, “And when they get there someone had dumped human waste creating these giant ants that hate humans.”

“Oh that’s…interesting,” he tries, making you laugh and it has him smiling into the crook of your neck.

“It’s ridiculous, it’s okay, that’s why she’s making fun of it.” You grin, running your fingers down his forearm, finding his hand that's made a home on the curve of your tummy to give it a reassuring squeeze.

He takes the opportunity to keep you there, intertwining your fingers and pulling you even closer. The sound of the rain against your window gets heavier, and the roll of thunder gets louder. The flicker of your candles makes the storm raging outside seem relaxing from the inside, and you can’t believe he drove all the way over here in this, just to cuddle with you on the couch. Somehow trying to burrow yourself into him even deeper, the wiggle of your hips when you readjust makes the air shift. 

Your sleep shorts and the cotton of his sweatpants don’t hide what his jeans did. His grip on your hand tightens, and he bites his tongue to stop the moan that's begging to slip out when you do it again. His nose nudges harder behind your ear, exhaling a huff through it that makes you shiver. 

“Honey,” it comes out as more of a plea than a warning, his lips that you’ve yet to feel against your own ghosting against the sensitive spot on your neck.

The feeling of how much he wants you pressing into the small of your back is what gives you the courage to turn around in his arms, ready to finally do what you’ve wanted since the last time you found yourself here. He lets your fingers slip through his, always keeping his palm against your skin until it sits on the small of your back. Both of yours land on the dark patch of hair on his chest that's even softer than it looks, slowly sliding them up till the pads of your thumbs trace his collar bone. With your head resting on one of his arms, his other pulls your bodies flush together before his thigh finds space between your own sliding you close enough for your noses to brush.

His half lidded eyes meet yours, and your breath catches in your throat when you see how they darken. He takes his time, letting his hand roam on its way from your back, fingers tracing up your ribs before the warmth of his big palm envelopes the already heated skin on your cheek. His gaze flicks down to your parted lips, licking his own while his thumb traces the pout begging him for a kiss.

“Please,” he whispers ,not knowing he beat you to it.

The connection is soft at first, just your top lip brushing against his bottom but it’s enough to make every inch of your skin come alive. A low groan rumbling deep from his chest, vibrating against your hands. He meets your eyes one more time down the slope of his nose before he closes the distance with nothing held back anymore, kissing you in a way that makes you feel like you’ve never been kissed the right way before. It’s like he knows just how to make your toes curl when they slot together, the tip of his tongue wasting no time when you sigh giving him the opening he needs. The blunt ends of your nails dig into the warmth of his skin, leaving half crescent moons over his pecs that’ll be hidden by the thick chestnut hair that covers them.

Your tongue meets his eagerly, cedar and rain making you dizzy when the top of his thigh adds pressure to the heat between your legs. Your noses bump, teeth scraping together while his hand leaves your cheek to squeeze at your hips encouraging the small roll they start to do on their own. The mess in your underwear only gets worse letting you move against the hard muscle with ease, your fingers weaving in the soft hair at the nape of his neck when he flexes it for you. He growls low when you give the roots a gentle pull at the same time your teeth tug at his bottom lip, his self control to try and be a gentleman slipping away.

“Jesus Christ baby,” Steve gasps, the new nickname making you smile when you give him a softer kiss loving the way it makes his skin flush.

“You started it,” you whisper, watching the way his cheeks push up before he chases you for another one, which you gladly give, letting your lips linger when he hooks your leg over his hip. 

Close as close can get.

“Me?” He tuts, letting his hand slide up your thigh before squeezing at the curve of your ass, glancing down to see how you still roll against him “I don’t think so, you’ve been trying to take my clothes off since I walked through the door.”

He throws his head back with a laugh when you scoff, and you pretend to push him away only for his hold on you to tighten. His lips connect anywhere but yours as you play hard to get, trailing a wet path to your neck, teeth nipping at the spot that gets a sound from you that has him kicking up in his sweats. So he does it again, and this time he can’t stop the grind of his hips that meet yours when he gets you saying his name the same way. 

“And what do you think you’re doing now?” You try to tease but it comes out too breathy to be taken seriously, especially when he starts to suck where his teeth just grazed. 

He grins against your skin, nosing his way up your jaw before meeting your eyes again, something softening in the gold inside them that shines through the abyss. 

“You want the truth?” He asks, bringing his hand up to cup your face, the pad of his thumb tracing the small bags under your eyes with a gentle touch and all you can do is nod.

“I just want to make you feel good, god - it’s all I’ve thought about for so long. Just wanna treat you right, take things slow,” his thumb drags across your bottom lip watching the way your eyes glaze over at his words. “Take you out to nice dinners, watch all your favorite movies, hear about your day, but really what I want to do right now is make you cum on my tongue.”

“Steve,” his name comes out broken, the roll of your hips becoming more pointed, and the swelling in your chest makes you feel like you’re ready to explode.

“You want that pretty girl?” He whispers, leaning close so his lips brush against yours, his eyebrows furrowing when you grind a certain way, your clit catching his tip.

“Y-yeah,” you whimper, eyes big and pleading, turning into putty from his sweet words.

He gives you a kiss that’s more gentle than the rest, before sitting up on his haunches letting you fall into the empty space on your back. A big hand wrapping around your ankle, moving your leg out of his way so you’re spread with him in the middle. Leaning forward, his fingers curl around the elastic band of your sleep shorts, giving you one last look from under his lashes before tugging them down your thighs, throwing them on the floor with his shirt.

“Shit - baby.” He groans, running a hand through his hair when he sees the effect he really has on you. “Better than my dreams.”

All the blood rushes to your cheeks from his affection, as gentle hands run up your calves when he starts to lean forward, fingers curling under your knees to lift them over his freckled shoulders. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you start to feel shy exposed to him like this for the first time. A kaleidoscope of new feelings settles deep in your gut when his hot breath hits your core, thighs tensing that the pads of his thumbs try to soothe. 

He looks up at you, from between your legs pressing a soft kiss to the place where your hip meets your thigh, making your back arch.

“You okay?” He whispers after another kiss, only this one on the inside of your thigh.

“Yeah, just nervous,” you giggle, feeling the warmth on your cheeks with your hand. If anyone would have told you that you’d have Steve Harrington between your legs begging to taste you a year ago, you’d have laughed in their face.

“Want me to stop?” He rests his cheek right where he kissed, looking content just to be doing this.

“No.” You smirk, reaching down to run a hand through his hair that was just begging for it, pushing back the stray that falls over his forehead.

He smiles, closing his eyes leaning into your touch for a minute before he turns his head, lips meeting your soft skin where he starts a path to where you want him most. You feel his breath and it sends a shiver down your spine, the tip of his nose spreading you apart first. He applies the kind of pressure against your bundle of nerves that makes you gasp, letting his tongue follow, collecting what you’ve already given him. 

“Oh my god, Steve,” you whine, when he flattens the pink muscle doing it again, groaning loudly at the taste of you. 

“So fuckin’ sweet, god, honey,” he mumbles against your cunt, replacing his nose with his lips, sucking your clit in a greedy way that makes your eyes hit the back of your head. 

His fingers dig hard enough into the meat of your thighs, that you’re sure they’ll be bruises in the morning. The tip of his tongue tracing your entrance that flutters around him, threatening to suck him in and he can’t help himself, giving your body what it wants. Both your hands find their way to his hair, tangling your fingers in his honey colored locks searching for purchase when he starts to taste your walls, creating a steady rhythm that has you rocking against his face for more.

“Yeah, you like that?” He grunts, extending his tongue as far as it can go, drool and slick starting to drip down your thighs as he starts to lose himself in you.

“Uh-huh,” is all you manage to get out, jaw going slack at the way he feels like he’s eating you from the inside out, like he’s thought about this longer than a few weeks.

One of his hands lets go of your thigh while he starts to focus his attention back on your clit making you gasp when you feel the thickness of his finger press itself against where his tongue just was. The stretch makes you keen when he pushes one knuckle deep with ease, distracting you when he pushes the second one in as he starts to suck on your bundle of nerves.

“God - baby,” he gasps, when your walls take the third knuckle in by themselves, and it’s only then you notice the way he’s rutting against the couch in search of his own friction. 

Your head pushes back into the cushions when he curves it, hitting the spot that only you’ve ever found on your own, and it has you babbling, your hips rolling up greedily for more which he gives you when he adds a second finger.  He sets a pace that has your lashes fluttering against your cheeks after he lets you adjust to feeling so full.  

“Come on, I can feel it, you’re close huh?” He asks against your clit, making you shudder, nodding your head when he starts flicking it with a wild tongue.

“Steve, Steve, Steve,” you whine, eyes closing tight, the band inside of you going taut, your hips grinding against his face without abandon as you try to take his fingers even deeper.

The sound of his name leaving your kiss bitten lips like a prayer makes a moan rumble deep from his chest, and it vibrates against your cunt, giving you just enough extra stimulation to make it snap. Vision going white behind your eyes, your body tenses while your mouth opens in a scream that falls on deaf ears when nothing actually comes out.

“Honey, honey, honey,” he babbles, his hips stuttering while his tongue refuses to stop despite the way your body shakes. 

You murmur his name in a daze, trying to push his head away as you reach the verge of overstimulation and it takes him the third shove for him to finally listen, addicted to the way you taste. Feeling empty when he pulls his fingers out, your body betrays you trying to get them to stay.  He kisses the inside of both of your thighs, smirking against your skin when your legs twitch because of it, slowly sliding his body up the length of yours. Skin flushed, and lips shining, you’d be embarrassed if he didn’t look like he just won the lottery.

His nose nudges yours before his lips steal a kiss that you eagerly give despite feeling so spent. Your fingers finding their way back into the hair at the nape of his neck, a smile tugging up the corners of your mouth when you feel the warmth of his own release in the cotton of the sweats.

“I hope you have another pair of pants for me.” He laughs, embarrassment making the tips of his ears turn red, the warm color only deepening when you grin and you realize you have more than just a crush on Steve Harrington.

[yawarakaizai]

pm!dazai taking reader on a date after school, but it’s somehow awkward! tried to get you a stuffie from a claw machine but failed miserably, so he shot the glass out of frustration.. something like that hehe ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

ⵌ HANGIN' OUT THE PASSENGER SIDE OF HIS BEST FRIEND'S RIDE

SENDER Reader (Fem) RECIPITENT PM Dazai Osamu (BSD) CONTENTS You were a horrible pair. You two were unlikely and the path ahead of you could have never predicted such thing to happen. You aren't sure why or how, but you found yourself the centre of Osamu Dazai's attraction. NOTE fluff, reader and dazai are 16/17, brief chuuya, jealousy, young love COMPANY No Scrubs

A/N wrote th is thro ughou t th e sch ool d ay ;3; forgi ve any mist a kes or rush ed writ ing !!! eeeeeeE EEEE i lov requ ests ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

It was embarrassing at this point.

You disliked bringing any sort of unwanted attention to yourself more than anything else. And yet, you owe it to the brunette by your side who attracted stares like a magnet.

" Owwh, fuck! " His drawn out swear accompanied by the stomping of his shoe against the carpeted floor. It's biometric, vibrant patterns splattered across a dark black background sickened you to stare for too long.

" I told you, these are a scam ", you attempted to protest against his insistence that he was sure to win this time, no take-backs. " Why not buy a ticket to the bowling alley instead of wasting it on these? " You remained temperate in opposition to his rowdy and indecent behaviour. You adopted the traits of an older sister, or a mother.

" No way! I spent too much to give up now. " Your head ached. " Look, if I keep inching it closer to the drop, I'll be sure to get it. "

And so, the poor joystick would continue to be abused, 200 yen being inserted into the comparator with every miss, Dazai's agitation growing with each failure.

It had been a sultry evening after school. Gathering your belongings and preparing to take the daily commute home, the pitter-patter of heavy footsteps ran behind you to reveal none other than Dazai Osamu.

He was somewhat of an enigma to everyone who knew him, even those that never exchanged a word with him knew of his name.

Dazai had a horrible track-record and even worse attendance. With a mysterious bandage over his right eye.

Despite his lack of punctuality and participation in classes, he not once has ever failed an exam. Many rumours circulated that he'd cheat - though no evidence of such was ever received. Others thought he must've slept his way to good grades.

Or, he was just inhumanely intelligent.

" Y/N! Y/N! " His ecstatic voice beckoned you to stop walking as he had finally caught up to you, bending over to catch his breath. " Let's visit the arcade together! "

You didn't know what possessed you to accept.

" Oy! Leave 'er alone, moron. Some people actually have work to get to after school. "

And there was his companion, Chuuya. Underestimating him is like a death wish. He was short. Horribly, unfortunately short. Sometimes, you'd feel bashful for the fact he'd have to look up at you sometimes.

Unlike Dazai, Chuuya's absence from school wasn't intentional.

No, not at all. Chuuya never missed a day of school on his own accord. His record full of missed days were from suspensions.

Often getting into fights with anyone, he has never lost a fight.

The duo had a dynamic you couldn't quite grasp.

And then there was you in the middle of it all.

Dazai had lured you into the friend-group about two years ago, when you were all put in the same base class and Dazai, in his extroverted glory, made attempts to suck up to all in class.

You listened to how the girls would swoon and whisper amongst themselves about the legend that was Dazai Osamu, and once he reached you, you couldn't be less impressed than what he had to offer.

" Oh, c'mon Y/N! It won't take too long, we never hang out anymore! "

His sad attempt at desperate puppy eyes lightened your day a little, so you thought you should humour him, just this once.

You didn't know much about Dazai and Chuuya's private life and you didn't pry into the territory either.

All you knew was that they were filthy rich and had a connection to the principal, Ogai Mori. Otherwise, they would've been expelled a long time ago.

" Let it go, Dazai. It's not worth it. " You put your hand on his shoulder as he leaned forward, nose barely touching the glass of the claw machine as he tried to focus on getting just what he wanted.

" But you looked at it! " He whined, digging into his pockets as the machine played a sound of defeat. " And? "

" And that means I need to get it for you! "

He insisted profusely that it'll be worth it, and you continued to doubt him. You've been standing by his side for thirty minutes at this point and not once has he won a prize.

You remarked to him that the game was purposely rigged, pointing out how weak the claw was and estimating the plushies within were weighing a little over the maximum capacity something so weak would be able to grasp for more than two seconds. That, and also how the claw would never close properly, inching in barely and dropping what toy it had luckily managed to hold onto.

And that degrading sound of humiliation. A squeaky, robotic coquettish voice repeating itself 'Better luck next time!' over and over.

Dazai was not losing to a machine.

Your stomach grumbled with hunger, and it was becoming clear that you both were growing with unrest at this machine.

" You kids still going at that? "

An arm propped itself on top of the roof of the claw machine, you looked up to see a worker had made his way over to you both. Dazai, did not look up from the game.

" I tried to get him to stop ", you mumbled, looking away from him. You'd always get shy at people older than you. You weren't exactly timid, but you were raised to be respectful. " He wants to win it for me. " It sounded oddly romantic when you put it that way.

" Yeah? You sure he can do it? " The man laughed at the truth. " So you two are on a date? " He overstayed his welcome and you began to wonder if it was usual for employees to wedge themselves into customers business.

" Yeah. We are. " Dazai answered for you, slotting in more coins for yet another try.

" Here, move li'l man, I got this. " Shoving Dazai away by the hip, the white-haired man. Begrudgingly, Dazai said nothing.

And almost with no effort at all, the man easily got the claw to clasp around the exact seal plush you wanted.

He must have been watching you both for a while to know what you wanted.

Although you kept assuring Dazai you didn't need it, you couldn't help the way your eyes sparkled as the man handed it to you with a smug smile.

" Oh! Thank you, sir! Thank you! " You took it from his hand with joy, looking at the fat cushion with adoration. It was simply adorable! You bowed your head repeatedly in gratitude, though felt it was simply not enough.

You almost forgot about Dazai until your ears deafened with the sound of a loud bang and the crashing of glass.

On impulse, you dropped to your knees with your hands over your ears protectively, unsure as to what just happened. Peeking through your tightly shut eyes, you saw that you were the only one to have dropped down and everyone else was as normal as ever.

Before you were even able to question, you uncovered your ear to hear Dazai converse with the man.

" How sad, I guess when you're making minimum wage you figure out how to make your job interesting. " Dazai cocked his pistol like second nature, and behind the legs of the employee you were crouched behind, you peered between his legs up at Dazai with wide, lost eyes.

Looking down at you, Dazai looked pissed.

" Didn't mean to scare you. Get up, we're leaving. "

The employee and Dazai seemed to know each other. You figured by the way the older man was cool about the whole ordeal, almost like he'd done everything intentionally.

You shakily rose to your feet, at a loss for words, and stared with astonishment as Dazai began to gather multiple stuffed toys from the now-broken claw machine and hold them in his arms after tucking his pistol away.

" But- you- the- "

You tripped over your words and found yourself unable to comprehend what had just happened.

" Not gonna run way with your Clyde, Bonnie? " The employee joked, stepping out of your way.

You felt this to be illegal. Maybe because it was. You did not want to aid in a robbery even if the employee was not actively stopping you. Before you could even act, Dazai grabbed you by the arm and ran ahead of you, dragging you behind him as he laughed, your other arm held tightly around the seal plush, afraid to let it go.

" Holy shit, I was so cool! " He shrilled, your shorter legs barely able to keep up with his strides.

" Dah-zai! " You panted out as he kept on running.

Your adrenaline rang in your ears and the heart in your chest beat rapidly as the two of you ran, jumped, hopped over valleys, onto the stepping stones of the river and through the bushes of the dark forest.

" Y/N! "

Dazai yelled out to you. At this point, many plushies in his arms had fallen, yet your intertwined hands never once budged open.

" Whah! Wh-What! " You tried to match his energy, but you were far too exhausted.

Finally, you both collapsed into the cold grass surrounding by large oak trees.

The night sky looking down on wild star-crossed students.

" I think I.. think I love you, Y/N " He said between deep breaths, both your limbs spread out as you tuned to the sound of crickets, the birds and the rapid breathing of one another.

You didn't know what you were thinking, or if you were even thinking coherently, though..

" I think I love you too, 'samu. "

©yawarakaizai 2023 ﹒﹒ reblogs appreciated! requests open :3

[thatsatricky1]

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 | 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Y/n didn’t have a lot going for her, rising student loan debt, a shared dodgy apartment and a shitty bank job that didn’t pay well. Could her life get any more downgraded? Apparently it could, in the form of a group of well known bank robbers deciding the bank she worked at was the perfect and simplest heist they could do for a change.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Lee Jeno x Reader

𝐖𝐜: 2k

If there was one thing both Winter and Y/n could agree on it was they did not get paid enough working at the Bank. The fact the two of them had gotten a job there had surprised them up until they’d actually started working there and then they realised just how horrible it was.

Most banks these days had one or two counters for actual human interaction, with more ATM’s littered against the walls for non-human interaction. Which was what people preferred these days.

However the bank Winter and Y/n managed to snag a job from was an old bank, with only one ATM which wasn’t even located in the building but outside it on the wall. Inside however was like going a step back in time where it was lined with ropes heading to five separate counters.

Today like any other day both Winter and Y/n were behind their separate counters helping one customer after the other. Customer service was and will forever be dreadful yet the two women sucked it up, they had student loan debts and rent hanging over their heads like most young people.

Y/n glancing up at the large built in clock against one of the lobby walls noting it was nearly time for break. Though turning her attention back on the ranting old lady she knew it would end up being a while before she’d get to head into the staff room.

“Ma’am like I said before, unfortunately you’ve already taken out your limit for this month.” Y/n repeated her words she’d already explained in much more detail to the elderly lady twenty minutes ago.

She did on one hand feel sorry for the elderly lady since she wasn’t getting much monthly from her retirement money, though that happened a lot more frequently these days and would only get worse as the years progressed. Y/n didn’t even want to think about her own retirement pay later on in life.

But that empathy was slowly draining from her when the elderly woman went from ranting on how unfair it was to blatantly disrespecting and dissing her. The fact she was catching strays from the elderly woman for something not in her control made Y/n want to slam her own head against the wooden counter but instead rolled back her shoulders to keep up proper posture.

After another ten minutes the elderly lady finally left the line to head outside, unsuccessful in getting more money. If it was up to Y/n she’d have shoved money into the woman’s hand and sent her on her way thirty minutes ago, but again, she needed to keep this job.

Y/n glanced over at Winter’s counter, wincing at seeing a guy wearing a business suit waving his arms animatedly. That toupee he was wearing did nothing to hide his obvious receding hairline and hair loss.

The person walking up to Y/n quiet enough she didn’t pay him any attention, too focused on watching Winter dealing with the toupee business man.

Y/n head only turning to face in front when a low voice cleared their throat.

“Oh fuck.” Was all she could mumble out with the sight in front of her. He was wearing a white balaclava with two black spikes on the top, that may or may not have been cat-like. But it was the logo patch ironed on it that caught her attention.

Dream.

A notorious group that surfaced one year ago known for bank robbing. Yes, in this era, day and age that was still happening. Usually unsuccessfully but this group had been doing it perfectly well without getting caught.

The group goes from big bank heists to small ones in different areas all around the place. No proper method, pattern or strategy being linked to them. And they just so happened to decide that this bank was their newest stop.

The person raised an eyebrow at Y/n’s choice of wording and quite tamed reaction most likely from shock. She noted he wore blue-greenish contacts and some of his white bleached fringe was pushed down by the balaclava.

A loud bang sounding out through the room followed by screams. Customers and workers alike going down to the ground. Only then did Y/n connect the dots; it had been a warning shot fired by another guy wearing a similar balaclava.

Her eyes drifted towards the chaos but a click of fingers brought her gaze back to focus on the one in front of her.

He grabbed a piece of paper sliding it through the small gap in the window pane glass separating the counter, a safety precaution the bank had installed years ago.

Her fingers sliding the paper closer to her side unfolding it to see what was written on it.

‘Cash’ That’s all that was written on it.

Refraining from making a face she looked up at the guy before glancing over at the other counters seeing four other people with balaclavas already getting cash from each counter.

Scrunching up the paper, she moved below the desk to grab the pay out box. They had one box at the counters for up front pay, but her attention focused on the button below her desk.

The emergency call button they had installed two years ago. Only being able to afford making one of them which so happened to be her counter for the day. Y/n had been pretty sure a panic button legally had to be installed on every counter in banks but she’d bit her tongue on that one when she’d first gotten to know the bank.

Of course it was her desk that happened to have the panic button, how on earth was she supposed to nonchalantly press it. She wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t even work, their boss cut corners on check ups all the time. She was pretty sure that button hadn’t had any attention on it since the day it was installed.

Grabbing the pay up box she stood up placing it on the counter moving to unlock it ignoring the gaze on her face. Starting to take out the money in stacks.

Hands fumble after the third stack a few falling down, Y/n shooting the guy a sheepish smile moving to bend down slightly one hand grabbing the cash while the other pushed down on the panic button. She could only hope that thing actually worked.

Fully standing as she continued to stack the cash before pushing them through the small hole entrance of the glass panel. The guy moved his hand to swipe the money into a material duffle bag. His gaze drifted up to hers once more.

“That’s all I have in my till, maybe you should have come by an hour earlier before some widow took out a pay out life endurance bill.” Y/n blurted out half because of nerves but also because she never quite knew the appropriate thing to say in serious moments.

The guy's eyes twitched slightly as if amused by her words before he gestured his head to the side, Y/n following it to see her work colleagues behind their counters moving out being led towards the centre of the lobby.

Taking the hint she moved towards the counter’s small hip height door leaving the little safety nook, moving to walk over to the crowded middle area of the lobby.

Not even a second by the others before Winter grabbed her hand tugging her down next to the rest of them.

“Did you?” Winter cryptically asked out her finger making a moving motion which took Y/n a second to understand before she nodded.

Y/n moved her head slightly to look over at two of the masked guys heading towards the back with her manager. In a weird way she was satisfied in seeing her boss look like he was about to shit himself after all the overtime, pay cuts and unfair things he’d done to herself and other workers.

Twenty minutes in, Y/n had noticed the other four masked men had taken turns walking around them, making sure no one left the small circle they’d formed in the middle of the lobby. Occasionally they’d gesture to one or another person to give them something, mainly jewellery, watches, wallets, purses and other valuable items.

The guy from before walking up standing over Winter and Y/n, looking them over as if to see if they had anything worth pocketing. Y/n holding back a comment on how unlikely it was seeing as their stuff was in the staff room.

But she did note his gaze seemed to go over Winter but stayed stuck on her. He gestured with his free hand tapping on his ear. Y/n only staring back before Winter nudged her.

“Your earrings.” Winter whispered in a rush not wanting things to go south.

Y/n shoot her a look since her earrings were just casual short thick metal loops. She’d bought them on a whim at a market years ago for cheap. They weren’t expensive and definitely weren’t valuable.

Though she still moved to take off all four of them, handing them over into the guys waiting palm. He looked down at them, fiddling slightly with them before moving to slip them in his pocket rather than putting them in the bag.

Right then the two guys from before walked back out from the back of the bank with duffle bags slung over their shoulders, the bank's manager nowhere in sight.

With that they all started to get ready to leave until the familiar sound of sirens flooded the air still at a far away distance. The guy nearest scrunching his eyebrows at how that happened, the police station would have been too far away to hear the one warning shot and they’d confiscated all phones right at the start.

Though his eyes drifted towards Y/n, tilting his head recalling when she’d crouched to grab some cash she’d dropped. A muffled laugh leaving his mouth. She’d pressed a panic button. He’d thought for sure along with the rest that this old place wouldn’t have one.

Jeno couldn’t exactly say he was impressed, a lot of the time the panic button got pressed during their bank heists. But he did think this one would be stuck in his head for a while.

Jaemin silently patted his chest to get his attention, nodding his head towards the back gesturing that they were leaving. Slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder he glanced one more time at the two women nearby before they left.

The six of them getting into the van as Renjun who’d been waiting had pulled up at the right time for them, not even giving time for Mark to close the door properly, tires squealing as he drove off.

Jeno leaning back in his seat peeling the balaclava off, chucking it to the side somewhere before shoving his hand into his pocket pulling out four metal chunked earrings. Rolling them around his fingers in thought.

“I’m guessing that’s for your personal collection.” Donghyuck scoffed out unimpressed, his head shoved over the back seat gazing at what was in his friend, Jeno’s hand. He preferred more expensive pieces over bland metal or at least something with a splash of colour.

“I like them.” Jeno hummed out noticing the wear and scratches on them. Gaze moving to the window where the back bank slowly got smaller and smaller.

“We really don’t get paid enough for this shit.” Y/n grumbled watching the police finally enter the building, her shoulders slumping at the fact it was one middle aged man with a very unkempt moustache and a scrawny looking trainee.

“You‘d think the bank robbers would have been doing us a favour if they had at least broke an arm or leg of ours for insurance purposes.” Winter chimed in wincing when the trainee tripped over his own foot.

“New job?” Y/n offered out.

“New job.” Winter confirmed in a more of a sigh.

Hope y’all liked the preview it was a bit rushed, the actual oneshot is gonna be really really long so prepaid yourself for that lol.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @rotinyzen @wonyoungmywife @snflwrhaerecs4u @thegreenlynx @serinebsblog @delululi @bubusebu @hanniehq @molensworld @morkiee @marvelahsobx @kaciebello @kgneptun @bluedbliss @haechansbbg @officiallyjaehyuns @bunnychui

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Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed. Don’t forget likes, reblogs and comments are always encouraged and help keep writers like myself motivated to continue our works.

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[rosemariiaa]

~Lines We Drew~

part: 5

pairing- Paige x Azzi

a/n: surprise! don’t ask me how many times i teared up writing this, i do it to myself. Lovely reading babies 💌 yes this is longgg

themes: angst, pining

Enjoy!!!

The soft buzz of her phone woke Paige up. Groaning, she rolled over in her bed, one arm hanging off the side as she squinted at the screen. It was a message from Nika in the group chat, something about breakfast, but Paige barely paid attention. Her head was pounding from last night’s game and all the shots she took, and honestly, she wasn’t in the mood for any more group hangouts.

If anyone could’ve saved me… it would’ve been you.

She rubbed her eyes, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. Paige huffed, pushing herself upright, annoyed at how her thoughts always drifted back to Azzi.

It was stupid, really. Azzi wasn’t even here. She had gone back to her own dorm after the game last night, and Paige couldn’t help but feel relieved. There had been too many moments where their hands occasionally brushed, or whenever Azzi caught her looking. It was getting harder to keep her guard up, especially when Azzi was so… there.

Would’ve been you.

She hated that she still thought like this, even after everything. After Azzi left. After no goodbye, no explanation, nothing. Just gone. And now, here she was, like nothing had ever happened. Paige shook her head, trying to push those thoughts away as she got out of bed, but it was hard to ignore them, especially when they felt so unfinished.

———-

Azzi’s POV

The sun streamed through the blinds, casting warm patterns across the wall as I sat on my bed, my laptop open in front of me. I hadn’t even meant to wake up this early, but my mind wouldn’t let me sleep in. After the truth or drink game, everything just felt… heavy.

I sighed, leaning back against the headboard, staring blankly at the email I was supposed to be reading. But my mind kept wandering, kept going back to Paige. The way she was looking at me all last night, how close we would always stand to each other , fingers brushing, the unspoken tension between us hanging like a thick cloud.

It would’ve been you…

It’s crazy how much those words hit me, how true they felt. If anyone could’ve saved me from everything I was running from, it would’ve been her. But I was too scared to face it. I’d bailed. I didn’t give her an explanation, just left. And now I’m back, trying to act like everything’s fine, like nothing’s changed.

But it has. I’ve changed. She’s changed.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, closing my laptop with a thud. Who was I kidding? There’s no going back to how things were. And the worst part? I still hadn’t apologized. For leaving.

———-

Paige clenched her jaw as she took a sip of water. That old feeling of betrayal mixed with frustration washed over her, the one she thought she had moved on from. But with Azzi back in her life now, all of those buried emotions resurfaced, sharper than ever.

If anyone could’ve saved me…

Those same five words wouldn’t leave her head, gnawing at her. She hated that a part of her still wished Azzi had stayed. Wished she had fought for them, what they could’ve been. But she didn’t. And now, Paige was stuck feeling like she was the only one who cared enough to remember what they had.

A knock on her door jolted her out of her thoughts. She walked over and cracked it open, finding Nika standing there, grinning. “Yo, breakfast? We’re all going. Even Ice,” Nika said, leaning against the doorframe. “You coming or are you gonna mope around and think about Azzi all day?”

Paige’s stomach twisted at the mention of Azzi. “I’m not moping,” she muttered, stepping back to let Nika inside. “Just tired.”

“Yeah, sure,” Nika teased, following Paige into the kitchen. “You’re always tired when it comes to her.”Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips. “Let’s not start this morning.”

“Oh, come on, you can’t pretend like I don’t know what’s going on,” Nika said, hopping up onto the counter, her legs swinging. “The way you two were last night? It was painful to watch, bro. Just admit you still—”

“Nika,” Paige interrupted sharply, her tone a warning. “I don’t. Not like that.”

But even as she said it, the lie burned her throat.

———-

I pulled my hoodie tighter around me as I headed out of the dorm, heading toward the dining hall. Caroline had texted me to meet up for breakfast, but I had hesitated. Part of me didn’t want to be around everyone today. Especially not after last night.

Last night had fucked with my head more than I thought it would. Seeing Paige again, being in her space, laughing, teasing— it was almost like old times. Almost. Except now, there was this huge fucking wall between us. And I was the one who built it.

Would you forgive me for everything I haven’t apologized for?

Those words hit me hard, like they always did. The words echoing in my ears as I shoved my hands in my pockets and kicked at the sidewalk. I’d never said sorry. Not once. I just bailed. Took the easy way out, because facing Paige back then? That felt impossible. Hell, it still felt impossible. How do you apologize for something like that?

I killed a part of who I was to keep you on my side.

And the truth was, I was scared. Scared of what being around her did to me. Scared of what we could’ve been if I stayed. So I left, thinking that would fix it. That it would save me.

It didn’t.

———-

“Alright, I’m coming,” Paige finally said, grabbing her keys off the counter. Nika hopped down with a satisfied grin, clearly pleased with herself.

“Good, ‘cause the girls are already talking about how you’ve been avoiding Azzi since last night.”

Paige shot her a look. “I’m not avoiding her.”

“Mhm,” Nika hummed, not buying it. “You should’ve seen how she looked at you last night, though. That wasn’t just ‘Oh, we’re teammates’ vibes.” Paige sighed, ignoring the way her stomach flipped at the thought. “Let’s just get through breakfast.”

As they walked to the dining hall, Paige couldn’t stop replaying moments from the game last night in her head. The way Azzi’s gaze would flicker over to her every few minutes, how her laugh made something inside Paige clench, even now.

It could’ve been you…

By the time they reached the hall, she felt that familiar pit forming in her chest. She spotted Caroline, Ice, and KK already sitting at a table, chatting. And then she saw Azzi, sitting next to Caroline, her hair in her signature two braids and the rest of her curls falling down over her shoulders and her attention fully focused on whatever Caroline was saying. Paige’s heart skipped a beat despite herself.

Azzi’s eyes lifted, meeting hers across the room.

Paige looked away quickly, cursing herself.

———-

Azzi’s POV

I didn’t mean to stare, but when Paige walked in, it was like my body had a mind of its own. My eyes immediately went to her, and for a second, I forgot what Caroline had been saying.

She looked… tired. And not just physically. There was this weight in her gaze that hadn’t been there before. It hit me harder than I expected.

Caroline elbowed me gently. “You okay?” she asked, glancing between me and Paige. She must’ve caught me staring.

I nodded quickly, trying to shake it off. “Yeah, I’m good.”

If anyone could’ve changed me… it would’ve been you.

Fuck. I really wasn’t good. I’d been trying to act like everything was fine, like we could just be teammates and nothing more, but every time I saw her, I felt like I was drowning in all the things I hadn’t said. The apologies I hadn’t made.

I could feel Paige’s presence even though she was sitting at the other end of the table. It was like this invisible pull, this thing I couldn’t escape. No matter how much time had passed.

I took a deep breath, trying to focus on Caroline again. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw Paige glance my way.

And just like that, I was back to where we left off. Caught between wanting to say something and not knowing how to fix what I’d broken.

———-

Paige tried to ignore the glances Azzi kept throwing her way, but it was getting harder by the second. Everything felt like it was hanging in the air between them—unspoken words, old memories, all the shit they’d buried.

She shifted in her seat, clenching her jaw as Caroline and Ice laughed about something Azzi said. It used to be her and Azzi in those moments. Back when things were easy. Back when she didn’t have to pretend she didn’t care.

If anyone could’ve saved me… it would’ve been you.

Her phone buzzed in her lap, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was Nika, texting from across the table.

Nika: You gonna keep staring or you gonna talk to her?

Paige groaned, quickly typing back.

Paige: Shut up.

But her mind was already racing. Maybe Nika was right. Maybe she had to talk to Azzi, no matter how fucked up it felt. Because the silence between them? It was getting too loud.

Paige’s mind was a whirlwind of frustration and hurt. She kept glancing over at Azzi, who was focused intently on her food, though her tight shoulders betrayed her nerves. Nika’s message from earlier had made Paige realize she couldn’t keep avoiding the issue. If she wanted any resolution—or at least to understand where she stood with Azzi—she had to confront it head-on.

Taking a deep breath, Paige pushed her chair back and stood up. The movement caught the attention of her friends, but Paige barely registered their curious looks. She walked to the other end of the table, where Azzi sat with Caroline and Ice.

“Can we talk?” Paige asked, her voice steady but carrying an edge of desperation.

Azzi’s eyes shot up, surprise and something softer—perhaps relief—flitting across her face. She nodded, standing up and excusing herself from the table.

Paige led the way out of the dining hall, ignoring the whispers and looks from her teammates. They reached a quieter corner of the hallway, away from prying eyes and ears. The hallway was dimly lit, and the walls seemed to close in around them as they faced each other.

———-

Paige’s patience was worn thin. The conversation she’d been dreading was finally happening, but it didn’t come with the ease she’d hoped. Her voice was tight with suppressed anger. “Look, I know you’ve got a lot to say, but don’t expect me to just sit here and pretend everything’s fine. This has been eating me up Az, for too long.”

Azzi’s voice cracked as she began. “I know I messed up. I should’ve said something before I left. I thought leaving was the easiest way out. I didn’t want to hurt you more than I already had.”

Paige’s jaw tightened, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “Easiest way out? You think a half-assed apology is going to make up for disappearing without a word? No explanation, no goodbye. You left me Az.. oh my birthday too..with nothing but questions and a broken heart. And now you waltz back in like you can just fix everything with a few words?”

Azzi’s eyes widened, her face flushing. “I didn’t mean to hurt you! I thought it would be easier for both of us if I just left. I didn’t want to drag you into my mess.”

“Easier?” Paige’s voice grew louder, her anger unmistakable. “You think abandoning me was easier? You left me to deal with everything alone, to pick up the pieces of what we had. And now you show up like it’s all supposed to magically fix itself?”

Azzi stepped closer, her voice rising in frustration. “I didn’t realize it would be like this! I didn’t think it through. But don’t act like I’m the only one who fucked up. You pushed me away too. You didn’t exactly make it easy for me to come back!” Paige’s eyes flashed with fury. “Are you kidding me? I was left to hold everything together while you just vanished! I had every right to be angry and hurt. And now you show up expecting me to just forgive and forget?”

Azzi’s voice grew sharper, her tears of frustration spilling over. “Well, maybe if you’d been more honest with me, if you hadn’t kept pushing me away, things wouldn’t have turned out this way! I’m trying to make amends, but you’re just throwing it back in my face!”

Paige’s fists clenched at her sides, her frustration boiling over. “I’m not throwing anything in your face. I’m trying to make sense of the mess you left behind. And you want to argue about who’s more at fault?”

Azzi’s expression softened, but anger and guilt still simmered. “I’m not trying to make it simple. I’m trying to be honest. I’m trying to make things right, even if it’s messy. But if you can’t see that, then maybe I don’t know what else to do.”

Paige’s eyes were filled with pain and frustration. “Maybe you don’t. Because right now, all I see is someone who walked away and is now trying to come back like nothing happened.” Her voice cracked as she continued, raw and unfiltered. “And you know what else? I hate seeing you with Laila. I hate that she’s around and not me. That should’ve been me with you, but you ruined it. You left me with nothing but the feeling of being replaced and forgotten.”

Azzi’s confusion deepened, and she shook her head. “Laila? What does she have to do with this? There’s nothing going on between us.”

Paige’s voice trembled with anger and hurt. “It’s not just about what’s happening or no happening with Laila. It’s the fact that she’s here, so close to you, when it was supposed to be me. You left me. It’s like you erased me from your life.”

Tears began streaming down Paige’s cheeks, and Azzi’s expression softened, her own eyes filling with tears. The emotional weight of Paige’s words was almost too much to bear. They stepped closer to each other, their breaths mingling in the small space between them.

Paige’s heart raced as she looked at Azzi, her anger slowly melting into a deep, raw vulnerability. Azzi’s face was a mirror of her own pain, and for a moment, it felt like the space between them was closing in on something more intimate. Their eyes locked, and the world seemed to fade away.

Just as their faces were inches apart, their breaths mingling, Paige’s voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper. “I can’t do this… not right now. It’s not fair to me.”

Azzi’s eyes widened with a mixture of shock and regret. She tried to reach out, but Paige stepped back, the distance between them growing once more. Azzi was left standing in the dimly lit hallway, her tears falling freely now, feeling the full weight of Paige’s anger and the realization of what she had lost. Paige turned and walked away, her heart heavy with the pain Azzi couldn’t take away like she used to.

———-

a/n: i can’t take this bye

[ereardon]

The Backup || Chapter 1 [Jake Seresin x Reader]

Summary: No strings attached sex never works, right? You and Jake Seresin have fallen into a bad pattern of seeking each other out for sex after dates go awry, but a year of being friends with benefits with Jake hasn’t been good for your dating life. Especially when the two of you are hiding your antics from your lifelong best friend Coyote and the rest of your tightly knit friend group. But what happens when you decide to take a step back and end the cycle with Jake to focus on your dating life? And why is it that all of the sudden Jake looks more irresistible than ever when you know he’s off limits? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: Implied smut, cursing

WC: 3.2K

Masterlist here

[Please see note at the end, tag list is closed but please follow/turn on notifications for my library page @ereardonlibrary instead]

“That can’t happen again.”  

“It will.” 

You sighed loudly, flinging yourself backward onto the mound of pillows, knowing that he was right. Jake rolled off the bed, tugging on his boxers. 

He grinned. “Any more bad dates planned for this week?” 

“A blind date on Friday,” you replied, rolling onto your side to face him as Jake got dressed. “Someone that a secretary from my work knows.” 

“A blind date, really?” 

Ignoring his comment, you replied, “What about you?” 

“No plans.” 

“Which means that you’ll have a date lined up by Thursday.” 

“And it’ll be a flop and we’ll be right back here on Friday night.” 

“I’m serious Jake, this can’t keep happening.” You stepped out of bed, slipping on a silk robe and tying it tightly around your middle. “We can’t be each other’s fallback every time a date goes sideways.” 

“So end it,” he said. “You’re the one that called me tonight, remember?” 

“I’m weak,” you replied and Jake chuckled. 

“You’re a lot of things, sweetheart, but weak isn’t one of them. Except when it comes to those mall pretzels.” 

“Well those are objectively the best.” 

“True.” 

You watched as Jake finished getting dressed, tying his shoelaces, slipping on his jacket. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Always.” 

“Are we fucking each other up by doing this? Like are we the reason that every single date goes bad? Because I feel like lately they all end up sucking.” 

“The dates are bad because our options are bad,” Jake replied. “We’re not cursed, Stinky. That’s just how these things go. You date and date and just when you think you want to fling yourself over the Golden Gate you find one person who suddenly makes things work. And then you live your weird Hallmark lives together forever.” 

“You, Jake Seresin, believe that?” You raised your eyebrows. “What happened to the guy I met three years ago who didn’t realize that girls don’t want to come over to your fucking Tenderloin apartment and see a bed without a bed frame?” 

“I loved that apartment and it was dirt cheap,” Jake argued. “Besides, you’re not much better. Remember when you thought guys actually liked girls who wore Birkenstocks?” 

“They’re comfortable!” 

“You looked like you were going to yell at me for not using a reusable jar to grind my own peanut butter at Whole Foods for twenty dollars an ounce. It was heinous. Also they smelled like ass.” Hence, the nickname that you hoped would die but never did. 

“You’re just saying that because your type is girls who stomp around in size five Aquazzura heels on Market Street and have their daddy’s Amex card numbers memorized.” 

“Better than your type. Mr. Couch potato, looks practically homeless and asks you to split the check at dinner because he’s too cheap to pay for your baked potato.” 

“That happened twice, that’s not a pattern.” 

“More than once is concerning.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re lucky you’re good in bed because I can’t fucking stand you.” 

“Stop stroking my ego.” 

“Goodnight, Seresin,” you said, walking toward the kitchen, your back to him. “Slam the door on your face on your way out, won’t you?” 

“Night Stinky,” he said and you could hear his footsteps trailing down the hallway. “See you next weekend!” 

You grabbed a half-empty bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from the fridge door and slammed it, a little too hard, the sound of bottles inside rattling as you unscrewed the cap and chugged directly from the bottle. It was acidic, probably too old, but it would do the trick. Anything to block out Jake’s words that haunted the quiet air of your apartment even after he was gone.

He was right. Somehow the two of you always fell into bed together. The dates always went belly up. Hinge, Raya, Bumble, League. No app worked. No blind set up. It was like clockwork: you’d spend an hour getting ready for a date, and within five minutes you’d know that at the end you’d call an Uber to take you to Jake’s. Or vice versa: he’d show up at your door with a pocketful of condoms and a smirk. It always ended the same way. For almost a year, you and Jake had been filling the gaps of your dating life with each other. Friends with benefits. No strings. 

And, of course, you made a point to keep it from the friend group. Coyote would throw an absolute fit if he found out. He had made a point the first time he introduced you to his friend group, which had later adopted you as one of their own, to steer clear of Jake. 

“Before we go in, there’s one rule.” 

You frowned, looking up at him. His face, normally so relaxed and chill, was creased in concern. The two of you had known each other for more than half of your lives, growing up in houses across the street from each other. At night, sometimes you would flick the lamp on your desk off and on as a kid to get his attention. He would do the same, powering up the old Walkie Talkies your mom had given the two of you one summer so you could whisper to each other in the darkness, your own secret club. This was all before cell phones were stapled to every kid’s ear, even before AIM or Facebook. Javy had been your friend for what felt like every minute of your life. 

“Don’t fall for Jake’s bullshit, OK?” Coyote said. “He’s suave and shit, but he’s going to hurt you if you let him.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

He shook his head. “I mean it, Y/N. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

Coyote had seen you at every low point in your life. When your prom date stood you up and he stepped in. When you almost failed out of sophomore year because your math professor had a chip against you. When your dad died after freshman year of college and the two of you stood side by side in your backyard in the rain, not speaking, but you knew he was there and that was enough. 

Coyote had been there for all of it. You knew, deep down, that he had your best interests in mind. 

But then you had walked into the bar on 22nd Street and Jake’s golden head had been thrown back in a laugh and you felt your heartbeat speed up in your chest. The way he looked at you that first night — it was like you were a prize and he was operating the claw machine with an endless supply of quarters. You flirted with him, to Javy’s disdain, but at the end of the night when he slipped his hand onto your bare knee you pulled away with a grin. 

You weren’t going to make it easy for him. 

At first that’s all it was. A chase, flirtation. Coyote’s eyes darting angrily between you and Jake as the two of you argued over the pool table or in a game of darts. The time all six of you — Jake, Coyote, Phoenix, Bob and Bradley — rented bikes in Golden Gate Park and the last mile was just you and Jake, ahead of everyone else, racing as fast as you could until your lungs threatened to give out and the greenery of the park opened up onto Ocean Beach. 

The two of you had ditched your bikes, plopping down into the sand, gasping for breath, the waves slapping softly along the shore. 

“You win,” Jake said. 

“I know, I got here a solid ten seconds before you.” 

He looked over with a grin. “No, I mean you win, Y/N. I’m not going to try and sleep with you. We can be friends, or whatever the hell it is that girls want.” 

You shook your head, laughing. “All it took was getting beat in a physical competition and you’re giving up? Jake Seresin, I’m appalled.” 

He laid back against the sand and you did the same, heads only a foot or so apart. 

“What girls want,” you added, “is to be pursued not chased. Is to feel wanted but not smothered. Sexy but still intelligent.”

“That’s too much to ask for.” 

“You asked what we want, not what’s attainable.” 

“Is that what you want, Y/N?” 

In that moment, you wanted him. You wanted to feel his hard, sweaty muscles pressed against your body. Feel his silky golden hair beneath your fingertips. His rough voice in your ear. 

You rolled over on top of Jake, surprise lacing his face, your hands digging into the sand on either side of his head. Your hips grazed over his, just a hint, and Jake reached up one hand, brushing the hair out of your face where it had fallen from your ponytail. 

“I’m not going to tell you what I want,” you whispered, smirking. “More fun this way.” 

“Oh you’re evil,” Jake grinned, rolling the two of you over until you were pressed against the sand, his much larger body pinning you down, this time his hips grinding you down against the soft beach. You could feel him everywhere and it took everything in your body not to moan out into the open air for all the families and tourists to hear. The rush knowing that any minute the rest of the group could catch up and find the two of you only made your heart beat faster in your chest. “I’m up for the challenge.” 

“You better be.” 

The two of you laid there, Jake’s arms boxing you in, his chest lifting against yours. If you reached up a few inches you would be able to slide your lips against his. 

But instead, you shoved him off and he landed in the sand as you laughed. You saw it in his eyes at that moment. 

You had Jake Seresin’s interest. For now. 

***

“Hey, you’re early for once.” Coyote leaned in, kissing your cheek gently. 

You grinned. “Snagged a front row parking spot.” 

“Grab a table, I’ll get us some coffees.” 

“Flat white?” 

He nodded, heading off toward the counter. You picked a spot in the corner, a big round table. The door swung open and Bob and Bradley walked in. You waved, Bradley sliding into the booth with a grin. “Hey Stink,” he said and you rolled your eyes. The nickname had stuck, despite your best effort to shake it over the last few years. 

“Bradshaw. What did y’all get up to last night?” 

“The usual,” he said as Bob sat down with two black coffees and slid one to Bradley. “Started out at the bars in Richmond.” 

“And ended up in some twentysomething’s bed in the Marina,” Bob finished. 

You shot him a smile which he returned with a shy grin. “Just you two idiots out on the town.” 

“Phoenix was there, and Jake.” 

His ears must have been burning, because the moment his name was said, Jake sauntered through the door, looking far too fresh for nine in the morning after a night of drinking and debauchery. 

You should know. The two of you had, predictably, landed in bed together after your blind date. Just like Jake said you would. Just like you had hoped you wouldn’t. He spotted the three of you in the corner and smirked, lifting a pair of sunglasses onto the top of his head and heading toward the counter. 

Coyote slid into the spot next to you. “Flat white. And I got you a croissant. You look hungover.” 

“You’re a dick.” 

“Just smile and look pretty,” he replied and you grunted, ripping off a piece of croissant and stuffing it into your mouth. “Where’s Nat?” 

“Running late,” Bob said, checking his phone. 

Jake took a seat across the table from you, a cup of hot coffee in one hand, a donut in the other. He took a bite, powdered sugar coating his upper lip in a faux mustache. “So everyone here got some last night?” 

You rolled your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. Bob’s face glowed pink. Coyote dragged a wet tea bag out of his cup. “Could you be cruder?” 

“Yes.” It rolled off of his tongue effortlessly. 

You scowled and took a sip of coffee. Phoenix crashed through the cafe doors, flinging herself into the remaining chair and swiping the last of your croissant, shoving it in her mouth. “Hey.” 

“Morning Princess,” Bradley said. “Long night? We lost you after the second bar.” 

She shrugged and leaned over, taking a sip of his coffee. “Ew, no cream, really Bradshaw? Anyways, I ran into Nina.” 

The group groaned. Nina was Phoenix’s ex-girlfriend and it was communally agreed that she should stay an ex. If Natasha’s belongings on a curb and her box of coats on literal fire weren’t proof enough, Nina had also stolen from her once and racked up a monumental credit card bill that Phoenix later managed with the bank. 

“She’s changed!” 

“Nobody changes,” you replied. 

“Well how was your night, Stink?” she asked. “That blind date work out?” 

“He smelled like Fritos and told me his goal in life was to quit insurance sales and start a Lord of the Rings themed coffee bar.” 

“That’s lowkey kind of cool,” Bob replied. 

“Let’s just say it didn’t work out.” 

“So you went home alone?” 

Across the table, Jake smirked. You hid your face in your coffee mug. “Yeah. Alone.” 

***

“So you work at a bank. That’s cool.” 

You sighed, taking a sip of wine. “I’m actually a hedge fund analyst.” 

Bill, your date for the night, frowned. “Bob told me you worked at a bank. I thought you were a teller or something. So you work.” 

You were going to kill Floyd. Bill was tall, you’d give him that. But this was the third hint he’d dropped that screamed of misogyny. The first was when you ordered a steak and a glass of red and he asked why you weren’t getting a salad. The second was when you ordered a second glass of wine and he frowned, saying wasn’t it bad for your fertility to be drinking so much? “Yes, I work,” you replied. “And do you work?” 

He puffed out his chest. “Of course. I’m a real estate agent.” 

“And does that pay well?” 

He went ashen and then a bright fiery red. You tried to hide your grin behind your wine glass. 

“I’m going to use the restroom.” You slid out from your chair, grabbing your purse and heading toward the front of the restaurant. When Bill looked away, you darted right, out the front doors, practically jogging around the corner. “I’m going to murder Floyd,” you said into the phone. 

Jake’s laugh on the other end was warm. “Again? I thought you were still mad at him for that sous chef-turned yoga instructor who tried to crack your back in the middle of the restaurant.” 

“Just come pick me up?” you begged, looking around. “I’m at some place in the Mission, I’ll send you my location. And hurry, before my date comes out here and tries to get me to put on a costume from Little House on the Prairie.” 

Five minutes later, you were stretching out in the passenger seat of Jake’s car. He had one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh, cruising down Van Ness toward the Marina. You resisted the urge to study him: his golden hair illuminated by the headlights of oncoming traffic, the way he smelled like pine and fresh laundry and the smirk that you knew was practically tattooed on his lips. 

Those lips that, try as you might, you couldn’t stop aching for. 

It always ended the same. You and Jake in a pile of tangled limbs in crisp white sheets, sweat pricking at your skin, hair a mess, a soreness already starting to form between your legs. And you’d do it again and again, even if it was wrong. Even if hiding things from Coyote and the rest of the group was becoming next to impossible. Because ending the night with Jake was a hell of a lot better than being alone in your apartment. 

“Stay,” Jake said as you pulled on your jeans, buttoning the top button and turning around in your lacy bra, searching for your shirt that had somehow been flung onto the coffee table. 

You yanked it over your head. “What? No, that’s rule number three.” The two of you had started a list of informal rules for your friends with benefits situation. Rule number one: no getting attached. Rule number two: keep it a secret. Rule number three: no sleepovers. 

“Rules are made to be broken, babe.” 

“Don’t babe me, Seresin,” you grunted, slipping on one stiletto and then the other, examining your hair in the mirror above the dresser. 

“For once, what if you just pretended to like me for more than five seconds when we’re not horizontal.” 

“It’s not an act, Jake,” you replied, whipping around to look at him. He was sitting up in bed, sheet covering his lower half, top half ridiculously muscular and drenched in a thin layer of sweat that only made him glisten in the dull light from the lamp. “You and I? We’re two totally different people. We have good sex and we have the same friends but the similarities stop there. I want someone to actually be in a relationship with. Not just a booty call.” 

“Feeling pretty used over here.” 

“You use me and I use you,” you replied, “that’s how this works. Two-way street.” 

“For a girl who claims to want more than this, you seem to be jumping into my bed a lot.” 

“Fuck you,” you said, but it was lighthearted. 

“I mean it, Y/N,” Jake replied and there was something serious in his tone. “You say you want a real relationship but you don’t even give guys a chance. You find something wrong with them, every single time.” 

“You literally said not two weeks ago that everyone in this city is insane and that’s why none of our dates ever work out.” 

Jake stood up, slipping on a pair of boxers. “That’s true, too. But you’re part of the problem, Stinky. And I think you know it.” 

“I’m leaving,” you said, stomping down the hallway toward the front door. 

“You'll be back here in a few days,” Jake called out. 

You slammed the door behind you. There was nothing but silence on the other side of the door. Jake wasn’t the type of guy to rush after you, say he was wrong. 

And why would he? Because the truth was, he was right. And you both knew it. 

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[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Halloween - BTS OT7 CEO au extra

Welcome to something a little different, just to keep you going until the next update 💜

Prev / Next

Yoongi:

Jungkook:

Hoseok:

Jimin:

Seokjin:

Namjoon :

——————————————————————————

Every jaw in the room dropped as the tv screen went blank. The lights in the house following suit as they cut out with an electric buzz in the air.

“Someone call Kitten now!” Yoongi yells in the darkness.

You had texted the group to say you were running late, but you were on your way to dinner. The others had worn their costumes, preparing the meal together when Taehyung had called them all into the living room.

“It’s a Halloween prank,” Namjoon tries to rationalise, but his breathing is heavy. “The news channels are obviously playing a prank.”

“It didn’t look like a prank Hyung,” Jimin runs his fingers through his hair, they’re all standing scared still. “And even if it was the news channel didn’t cut our power.”

“Fine then it’s a disease or a new virus, it is NOT zombies.”

“Sunshine!” You finally picked up Hobi’s call, the faint light from his phone lighting the side of his face. The room is so quiet they can all hear your screams. “Sunshine?”

“Hobi help!” The screams are followed by low groaning in the background of the call, the sounds of flesh being ripped through with decaying teeth.

“Kitten!” Yoongi yells, tripping over furniture to get to Hobi who had been petrified into a catatonic state.

And then, silence. There isn’t a single sound, and they all wait with baited breath. They feel the thud of all their hearts hitting the floor when a low moan comes through the line, your voice, there’s no mistaking it but it’s warped, inhuman.

“Bunny?” Jungkook whispers, his eyes watering as his heart picks up in pace.

The line cuts and they’re all left to the sound of their breathing.

“This isn’t happening,” Jimin almost tears his hair out by its roots. “CALL HER BACK!”

“We have to go get her,” Jin is shaking where he stands, his feet cemented to the ground but he knows he has to move. Whatever was going on he knew one thing, you were in danger.

“Everyone turn on your phones flash-“

BAAANNGG

Their souls jump out of their skins as a body slams into the living room window, their eyes going wide with horror as they take in the face in the dark. They can make out no discernible features but they can see the way his face presses against the glass. The silence that follows is deafening, not a breath, not a beat, until they see a tongue lick the surface of the window as if tasting them through it.

“What the actual fuck,” Yoongi breathes, terrified to speak a decibel louder.

The flood lights turn on outside, detecting movement although a little late but it reveals the body’s features and their eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. His entire body is decaying, his eyes set on them, unblinking, his clothes torn to reveal flesh and flies leaving no question what this creature was. But worse, behind him, what started out as a blur that drew closer, a hoard moving towards their home.

“We need to move,” Namjoon’s brain starts kicking into gear, survival mode fighting with instinct to shut down and freeze.

“And go where, we’re sitting ducks,” Jimin panics.

They all turn to the sound of another bang, closer, louder but they all knew what it was… the front door had been breached, they were in the house.

The low moan of their intruder echoes through the dark hallway.

“We need something to fight,” Jungkook whispers, his eyes darting around in the dark, their backs to the repeated thuds on the window from their other guests.

“Knives?” Jimin suggests.

“The kitchens too far,” Taehyung mumbles.

The lights of the hallway start flickering, the living room lights flickering just a second after, the pattern repeats making the men look around desperately for something to be armed with, but nothing usable is in sight.

“We can’t stand here, we have to run,” Jimin starts to hyperventilate.

“He’s right,” Yoongi agrees, tugging the still shell shocked Hoseok to snap out of it.

Jin’s whole body is vibrating with how hard he’s shaking, he knows whatever is in the house can sense them, the groans getting louder and the hoard behind the window getting more vocal with the frustration of a barrier between them and their next meal. He doesn’t hear what words are being said in the room, his hearts thumping in his ears, the blood draining out of him. He feels someone grab his hand, the maknae’s mouth moves in front of him but he can’t make out the words.

He’s being pulled into the hallway, the scene moving almost in slow motion as his brain fails to comprehend the scene but one thing wakes him up. They’re moving closer to the sound, they were running straight into danger.

It was too late, their bodies collided in the hallway, their attempts of escape stopped before they could even begin. A familiar figure stands before them, a silhouette they could make out even if they were blind.

“Baby-“

The lights flicker and the fills with their screams at the horror of their zombified girlfriend before them. They all scream except from one who covers his mouth and his laughter.

—————————————————————————

The very next day

Office romance:

Hobi : Did anyone get any sleep last night? 😭

Jin : every time I closed my eyes all I could see were the zombies

Yoongi : I slept through this mornings meeting does that count?

Jimin : I say we all go home and let Taehyung do all the work today 😒

Namjoon : I still can’t get my head around how they pulled it off

Yoongi : the maknaes obviously have had a bad influence on kitten

Jungkook : don’t involve me and Jimin in this

Jimin : Jimin Hyung* 🤨 I need another copy of this contract I drooled all over it

Jin : the two culprits are being awfully quiet

Namjoon : how long did you two plan yesterdays events?

Taehyung : for a while, the details were all flower, she really ran away with it

Jimin : I have to say the fake news announcement on the tv was a nice touch

Jungkook : I can’t believe we fell for it 😤

Namjoon : the lights went out, irrational fear was bound to takeover

Y/n : HEY! We were a team Kim Taehyung, we’re both to blame

Jungkook : well look who decided to join the conversation

Yoongi : look, she lives

Jin : dangerous girl

Y/n : if it makes you feel any better, I feel really really bad… but it was worth it 😇

Hobi : Sunshine you’re sleeping next to me until the nightmares stop 😤

Yoongi : you owe him that much Kitten, he fainted

Jin : as if you weren’t a second away from passing out too Yoongi, I know I was

Y/n : sorry Hobi 🥺 I am really sorry but I really don’t regret it 😈

Jungkook : Noona’s sadistic side is coming out

Hobi : we’ll see how long for 😒 wait till we get home sunshine, you’ve got a lot to pay for

Y/n : it was Tae’s idea too!

Yoongi : the brat didn’t dress up like our worst nightmare kitten

Namjoon : I really hope it was worth it baby girl, Hoseok’s got a dark look on his face 👀

Y/n : ☹️☹️☹️

Taehyung : you have to admit, flower’s acting was almost as good as mine 😏

Jungkook : and she made a terrifying but somehow sexy zombie

Jin : Jungkook no 🙅🏽‍♂️

Y/n : 😳

Jimin : Jungkook yes 😈

———————————————————————————-

Taehyung : (the day of Halloween)

[dickgraysonsptsd]

Also, pleaseeee expand on incestuous teen titans!! Like the original 5 or all of them? :oo

ALL OF THEMMM and by all of them i primarily mean the original fab five and the ntt/tntt gang! based on who appears in titans 99/08 i would say my like core mental group of "Oh My God, That IS Incestuous" Titans is: dick, roy, donna, wally, garth, raven, gar, vic, kory. maybe i'm forgetting someone. if i am don't worry about it.

the "incestuous" comment specifically is from titans (1999) #13 when jesse quick calls the titans out for being "like a family... in all the worst ways":

Jesse: When you told me the Titans were like a family--I guess I thought you just meant in the nice way--closeness, you know. Loyalty. But you're also a family in all the worst ways. You may all be great heroes in your own right--I know, I've studied some of you--but together you're disorganized, reactionary, and incestuous.

we're using incestuous in both the "you're a family who has romantic/sexual relationships with each other" way + the less literal secondary definitions (which is what jesse primarily means in context):

"designating or characterized by a relationship of exceptional closeness or interrelation, often one regarded as unproductive, unseemly, etc." (collins english dictionary)

"being so close or intimate as to prevent proper functioning" (dictionary.com)

"excessively or improperly intimate or exclusive" (merriam-webster dictionary)

it's obviously not literally incest for the titans to sleep together, but i loooove jesse using "incestuous" because of that overlap between "you guys are a so-close-you-literally-see-each-other-as-family friend group AND YOU KEEP FUCKING EACH OTHER" and "you guys are sooooo goddamn strange about each other and it makes it weird as fuck for everyone not in your... THING."

like they are suchhh messy weird enmeshed bitches! they are not reasonable or normal about each other! and the core titans are fine with that. all my saved panels re: this are about dick because i have literally 1 personality trait (liking dick grayson) but this is true of the other titans as well and their intensity about each other is present in all post-crisis titans runs that i know of.

for dick-based evidence, see titans (1999) #13, when vic vents to gar about dick keeping secrets from him:

Garfield: Nightwing manipulates people all the time, man. It's a Bat thing.

and later, titans (1999) #43:

Dick: Jesse hates me, Argent's scared of me, Donna hung up on me, and Wally thinks I'm nuts... and I just committed you all to fight a war in another dimension without so much as asking. Roy: Is that what's bothering you? Man, that's why we love you! You've been that way since day one!

for more direct "hey, are those guys a polycule?" implications, we get titans (2008) #2, when toni is talking to the elder titans and she asks "are you guys back together?":

Toni: Are you guys back together? Dick: No, not exactly. Donna: Well, in a sense. Roy: It's complicated. Well, not complicated-- Garfield: Geeeez, people. It's not like we're sending out invites and picking out china patterns. Relax.

going back in time to jla/titans (1998) #2, we get a thesis statement for the titans as a whole:

Dick: Unlike the JLA, the Titans aren't just about a promise to the world--it's also about a promise to each other... to ourselves. We swore on our childhood nightmares that we'd be there for one another. If I don't honor that I don't honor who I am.

and then the excellent "til death do us part" scene from jla/titans #3:

Dick: Did you give up, Vic? Is that what happened? Because if you did, even for a minute, I've got a secret to tell you. You can't give up. And I don't just mean because it isn't a good idea. I mean your friends. Your family. This fighting the good fight thing we're all in together until death--whether you realize it or not. It's under your skin, Vic.

they. are. so. SOOOO. SOOO resembling incest as by excessive intimacy HOLY COW. ITS UNDER YOUR SKIN ITS IN YOUR BLOOD... TITANS TOGETHER FOREVER BABEYYYY

[starlit1daydream]

Witches & Heirs: Adherence and Manipulation

Well, here we are again. It's always such a pleasure. (Do you remember when you tried to kill me twice, blah blah blah...)

Witches & Heirs are a pair with a lot of material to work with, owing to the fact that Homestuck's main protagonist happens to fall under this category; though comparatively the other characters in the group (besides Jade, fellow Main Character) happen to be relatively obscure.

...But I've also written a whole goddamn analysis on one of them, so this should be fine.

The Witch:Heir class dichotomy embodies adherence, manipulation and fundamentally, control. This is both control over the Aspect, and the control the Aspect has over the person - and practically functions as a means to manipulate & bend the Aspect freely.

Canonical Witch players are Jade Harley (Witch of Space), Feferi Peixes (Witch of Life) and Damara Megido (Witch of Time).

Canonical Heir players are John Egbert (Heir of Breath), Equius Zahhak (Heir of Void) and Mituna Captor (Heir of Doom).

Point A, the narrative function of the Witch.

Narratively speaking, the Witch is the Class of active manipulation. What this translates to is a person whose Aspect has a heavy influence & sway over their life and their actions, which ends up manifesting in them growing to control & influence it in rebellion. And therein lies the key word everyone uses when analysing Witches - rebellion.

The Witch is somebody who rebels against their Aspect. They bend the rules, play around with it, they think they're above its whims. And this, more often than not, is because they don't want it to try and control them in turn.

Jade Harley, Witch of Space, spends her whole life in isolation. Space has her under its thumb, she's got one big, floating empty canvas to play around in and nobody else to inhabit it with. She's so far away from anyone or anything, and has no freedom to explore it to her heart's content because of the fucking First Guardian that keeps teleporting her around.

Feferi Peixes, Witch of Life, has her future decided for her. She's the princess & the heiress to a colossal empire, and the trajectory & development she's meant to undergo is pre-planned. Her life isn't her own to control, and she has to worry about a titanic sea monster that'll kill everyone on the planet if she doesn't tend to it.

Damara Megido, Witch of Time, finds closure to be something hard to swallow. All the toxic & debilitating relationships in her life, she can't bring herself to burn the bridge until the bridge starts burning her - and that's when she resorts to pulling teeth and cutting off heads. And her post-scratch self ends up being groomed & made to serve the Lord of Time himself.

Noticing a pattern here? Witches often find themselves literally controlled by a grand manifestation of their Aspect. Becquerel for Jade, Glb'golyb for Feferi & Lord English for Damara/The Handmaid.

And this brings us to the point that Witches want to rebel against these forces of control. Jade has to learn to break the rules, to disobey her guardian & travel as far from that desolate rock as she can.

Feferi wants to bring great, sweeping change to the whole empire and everything underneath it, she's got big dreams & wants to change the way that everyone's lives grow and develop.

Damara figures out that she doesn't have to take shit & deal with abuse because she can end things, and oftentimes in her situation that means ending lives. And, furthermore, bringing about total oblivion with the Scratch.

(Damara was totally justified in doing that, by the way. Fuck you, Meenah & Rufioh).

This leads to the fairly digestible Point B of the Witches' practical function.

The Witch controls their Aspect to an absolute. The power they gain is to manipulate it and make it do whatever the goddamn hell they want it to do, best exhibited with Jade who gains complete dominion over physical space; which ties directly into her Quest.

Even then, there's still an upper limit to her strength, but from what we see of her God-tiered self (and she's unfortunately the only Witch to reach the God-tiers), Space basically becomes her bitch.

It's one of the most straightforward power sets of any class. Manipulating the Aspect is pretty simple to grasp, and it's moreso the narrative idea of a Witch that's harder to explain.

Point C, the narrative function of the Heir.

Heirs find themselves in an opposing situation, but like the Witches, the Aspect has them under its' thumb. Like the Witch, they find themselves with a huge influx of their Aspect that they don't really get a say in - though I think the difference is that the Heir isn't aware of it as much.

John Egbert, the Heir of Breath, is unrestrainable. He's impossible to keep down or chain in a way that matters, and that often applies to him being impossible to sway emotionally as well. He just glides, freely, from one thing to another without a care in the world - obeying every whim of Breath and disallowing himself the time to dwell on one thing and process it.

Equius Zahhak (yes, I'm going here again) feels empty. He has no substance to himself, and he despises it. Every single facet of his life, he feels is controlled by the untenable nothingness inside him that he can't fight back against, and Void is all he feels he has to him.

Mituna Captor, the Heir of Doom, is fate's chewtoy. He's overwhelmed by prophecies & foretellings of Doom, finds himself repeatedly suffering & stagnating as the world subjects him to misfortune after misfortune, and ultimately sacrifices his own sanity & stability for the greater good.

(And, of course, I don't think I need to mention how the Psiionic gets the raw end of the deal as well).

The Witch uses their Aspect. The Heir is used by it. And though these often overlap, the passive nature of the Heir means they're far more likely not to fight the control their Aspect has over them.

Point D also ties neatly into this, the Heir's practical function.

In the sense that they may metaphorically be consumed by their Aspect to the logical extreme, they are literally granted the ability to become it.

Not only is John seen turning himself into gusts of wind, but further on in the story once he gets his 'retcon' powers; he basically becomes untethered from the narrative. He's unable to stop himself from jumping between places & ideas, becoming instability in its purest form.

This means Equius could become invisible, which is really funny.

So, overall, I find that the Witches & Heirs are deceptively simple to comprehend - and that perhaps my initial frustration with trying to work with them comes from me searching for a hidden complexity that wasn't there. The key words here are definitely control & rebellion, and the way that manifests in them.

I wouldn't go as far as to say their sessions always have this great influx of their Aspect, because I think it's more personal to them - but often the metaphorical cloud of their Aspect that follows them ends up influencing other people around them. That's how changing the Aspect works, right? Change with it, change through it, change it itself. That's the joining point of both Classes; they change.

(That's interesting in of itself because it implies Feferi as someone who changes change, but that's something I'll focus on more when I write about Life; which happens to be my own Aspect anyways).

Next week, the post will be about the most controversial players in Homestuck analysis; The Princes & Bards.

(...oh, christ, please don't make me write about the Makaras).