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#what an... Experience??????? Felt like a bad drug trip by the end??

bella-goths-wife · 2 months

Text

Yandere Vs reaction to pet reader accidentally killing someone out of anger

Warnings: toxic relationships, mentions of drug use, SA mentions, Valentino, death, description of wounds, forced affection, forced father-daughter relationship, workplace bullying, grooming mentioned, guilt

You were used to your coworkers being assholes to you

You were a fellow working soul yet you were treated nicer and given many more privileges then them, of course they weren’t going to like you

Everyone referred to you as a lost puppy or as a pet

They didn’t even know your name, but know one really knew your name in fairness

They sneered when they saw you enter a room, and if the Vs weren’t accompanying you then they would get physical by tripping you or shoving you around

Angel dust does his best to defend you when he sees this happen, but angel rarely has time to think nevermind look after you

But the rumours were the parts that upset you the most, to here small parts of your life become exaggerated and spread around

They’d also dump their workload on you so you had to do even more stuff while also balancing three very obsessed bosses

But something pushed you over the edge today, something that angered you so much that your power spun out of control

You’d had a certain guy around the tower spread vicious rumours about you lately and you could always hear the whispers following you because of them

“I heard she killed her friends”

“I heard she was a whore who overdosed with her junkie boyfriend”

“I heard that she only gets good treatment because she’s fucking one of the bosses, or all of them by the looks of her”

Many misinformation or misunderstandings spread around by this man would end up being whispered near you

So one day when you were in voxs office alone and this guy walked in, you knew something bad was going to happen

He made a few smart ass comments about your rumoured past but you just rolled your eyes and ignored him

But he pushed it to far when he uttered the words “they really groomed you into their perfect little pet huh?”

You shot him a glare as you questioned what he meant by that

He then went on a long rant about how it wasn’t fair that you got better treatment all because you were willing to throw away your dignity for their enjoyment

With every word he uttered about the luck you supposedly had caused rage to spark in your chest

The cherry on top was when he said “I wonder what your mother would think if she found out what a fucking whore you are and how she must have fucked you up real bad for you to have this little self respect”

One minute he’s standing over you and smirking at you, the next he’s crumpled on the floor covering his ears and screaming in agony

You couldn’t stop using your ability to create loud and excruciating noises directly in his ears, it’s like you’d been completely taken over by the anger you felt

You saw blood pouring out of his ears like a fountain and you couldn’t help but smile and increasing the volume, until he stopped moving except for a few twitches and you saw what looked like brain matter leak from his ears

You had killed him

You just stood in shock and stared at his body while processing this information that you’d killed a man in cold blood

And the Vs saw it all happen from the open door

Vox:

Vox almost felt like a proud dad as he watched you kill someone purposefully for the first time

He came up and patted you on the shoulder with a wide smile, as if you’d just passed some sort of test

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and rambled on about how you could improve and what you did well, almost like a performance review for a singers night show

What had been a world changing and traumatic experience for you, was purely just entertainment for him

He couldn’t understand your shell shocked expression, you had killed this man while smiling so why were you overreacting so much

But he still walked you back to your room and cleaned the blood off of your body and sitting you on your bed

He went on a long rant about how you shouldn’t feel bad about your murder, he was provoking you and it was clearly all his fault

He said that he understood why you did what you did, and that he was proud of you for your decision

“I started out like you, but you’ll improve over time and get used to it” he had said with a wide grin “soon enough you’ll be just like me”

And the fact that you were seen as in any way comparable to Vox only sent a chill down your spine and doubled your guilt

After that day, you noticed people were much nicer to you and Vox only gave you a ‘told you so’ look

But since becoming aware of the harassment you were subjected to, he did give voxtech employees a strict warning and he broke a few bones to get his point across

He couldn’t have something like a little murder bring his favourite girl down, even if it did prepare you to become his heir one day

Velvette:

Velvette doesn’t really understand the big deal

Your in hell, you fraternise with murderers and worse on a daily basis

You live in a tower filled with the worst of the worst kind of criminals

So why are you overreacting so much over a little murder that could easily be sorted out

She does scold you slightly on doing your own dirty work and doing it on the expensive carpeting

She explained that if you really want someone dead then you should just tell one of them and they’d have their security deal with it

But she did express some pride for you efficient killing and you experiencing your first purposeful murder

She does nothing to comfort you at all, you should be over it already is her thought process

But she does kill more people around you in her own sick away to reassure you that murdering people is okay in her books, she only makes you want to peel your own skin off though because every sight of blood just makes you think about the fact you ended a man’s afterlife

She also makes an example of the man you killed to her employee, harass her pet and her pet will bite back

She makes a few more private examples or your bullies, but she’ll wait until the rumours of the event hits you before she explains

Valentino:

This entire situation is just a joke to this man

His little princesa bites as much as she can bark, and he’s meant to take that seriously?

He does much worse stuff then murder every day and you don’t see him she’ll shocked and crying on the floor do you?

He will actively crack jokes about one of the most traumatic things you’ve ever done in front of you

Every time he does and you get a guilty or shocked expression, he bursts out laughing at the ridiculousness of your reaction

But he would clean up the body for you

He’d either just dump it into the cannibal colonies or he’d just get his workers to get rid of it and clean up the office

But he’d definitely keep a body part of a piece of jewellery from your victims body to taunt you with when he’s bored

He also gave a few extremely rough video sessions to some of the people from him workers that contributed to your harassment

He can’t have his little musical toy become too tired to sing him a soothing tune to calm his ever present temper

Sorry this was so small, work exhausted me today :(

Tag list so far:

@buttercupfangirl @repostingmyfavs @lilyalone @the-faceless-bride

661 notes · View notes

angelisverba · 1 year

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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.

#harry styles blurbs #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction

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unimo · 1 month

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Random Lawrence Headcanons 🌱

He can read or watch something very obscure and graphic and not lose his appetite.

Doesn’t really even have an appetite most of the time (due to being a lil dead) and gets stoned in order to eat.

His family used to go on vacations and he’d purposely stay home so he could watch over the house. (aka enjoy some alone time and be himself)

At the end of long stressful days he probably hides underneath his blankets and silently sobs into his pillow. (gets high after to block out the pain)

Was probably nice and sociable when he was a kid, talking about his interests but got made fun of and ignored because of it. Over time he learned the hard truths of the world and shut himself out and stopped. (may or may not have been lectured by his parents for it too)

He would’ve probably enjoyed ceramics class in school, enjoying the feeling and smell of the clay between his fingers as he shapes and mends the material to form.

He was probably also pretty smart for his age when he was younger, took a liking to dinosaurs and biology type concepts. Just one of those kids that would sit in the back of the room to read or skip recess to go to the library. (gifted kid burn out)

When he goes into the woods sometimes he just cries unexpectedly, all of his bottled up emotions just start to spill out. Life gets to be too much sometimes, he has a lot of regret and frustration towards himself because of his actions. He’s comforted by the trees and flora around him when he’s done.

He has a lot of resentment for his parents, and they have resentment towards him for not trying to conform. They probably would’ve wanted him to interact with his family during reunions, but he would avoid them like the plague. He decided to stay in his room with the door locked and headphones on, not coming out till they were gone and felt comfortable enough to.

Would keep a little terrarium in his room when he was younger living with his parents, probably where his little plant obsession started.

Makes homemade hygiene and cosmetic products from his plants and stuff, outsources when he feels up for it.

He probably thrifts for his clothes sometimes or buys cheap to save money.

Has a scent kink, usually for the hair or other body smells from someone he likes can turn him on.

His moods affects the way he views intimacy sometimes. He’ll give himself a hard time after being affectionate, mad at himself for “giving in” and feeling vulnerable to someone. If he’s in a different mood, he’s frustrated that he doesn’t give MORE affection and can’t express his emotions right. He flip flops between trusting and able, to avoiding and feeling vulnerable. There’s an ironic war in his mind he fights with constantly.

Has gotten bad trips while high on different substances because of the guilt he has from killing, it haunts him and he’s aware that what he’s done was wrong. When he’s tripping by himself those pangs of guilt come back tenfold and taunt his hallucinations. He’s still addicted to the drugs so it’s hard to stop using them even after those experiences.

The type who doesn’t know he actively likes something or someone until something happens to it/them and it’s too late.

#lawrence oleander #btd lawrence #lawrence oleander headcanons #I had these saved in my phone for months so I just decided to put them here #I feel like most of this is collective knowledge? Idk

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losech · 2 months

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Yesterday's eclipse trip was pretty cool, for the first half. I found a very secluded penninsula and explored a bunch of it looking for a spot. I ended up bushwhacking through reeds and walking in Lake Erie to get to the very southern most tip. Most people who go there take a boat. It was a super cool spot that I had planned on watching the entire eclipse, start to finish, from. But my dogs had to get into mischief and change that plan.

Cinder found a muskrat, that attached itself to her face. That alone likely would have produced a couple deep punctures or a small tear, but Ember had to contribute. She has been trying to catch a muskrat her entire life and she wasn't going to pass this opportunity up. She grabbed it and yanked it off Cinder's face then proceeded to thrash it around in the lake. She was in her element and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Cinder on the other hand was left with a long and deep gash on her face in her whiskers. It bled a lot for a while, and after calling the vet and sending them a photo, I decided to try to hike back to the car right as the eclipse began and hopefully get her to the evet before traffic got bad.

It had taken us 3 hours of hiking to get to the point, not including the extra exploring, and by avoiding the reeds, downed trees, and mud by walking directly through the lake for at least a mile, we managed to cut that 4 mile hike down to one and a half hours. I was 10 minutes from the car when totality began, and I did stop right before to watch. It only lasted 30 seconds where I was but it was extremely cool. My favorite part was the 360 sunset look the sky had, I had read about everything else I saw except for that and that was super neat to experience.

We got back to the car right as other people began leaving but we beat most of them out. It took two hours to get to the evet. And that's where it got obnoxious. I guess the eclipse fucked with everyone's pets cause a ton of critical patients kept coming in, more than any other time I have been there. We waited for over 8 hours just to be handed a bill and a couple meds and told to go home. It was 1:30am so I was not happy, but I do understand that a dog with a split lip is not a priority over animals that are actively dying. I just wish they'd told us they wouldn't have been able to get to us sooner.

I called off work because I was exhausted and covered in muck and blood, and had decided to try to get Cinder into my normal vet this morning. When I had called them they said they had an opening for surgery I could schedule, which is what I'd preferred to do, but due to the location and size of the gash, I opted for the evet at their reccomendation. So before they opened, I drove almost the whole way there then stopped and called to ask if they still had an opening. They did, and were able to fix Cinder's face and did a good job on it. I think they felt bad for me, they knocked a bunch of drugs off the bill and it came out to less than $200. Total it was around $360, which is significantly less than both estimates I had gotten.

Poor Cinder is sad and whiny, she doesn't care for how she feels right now. She's definitely not like Flint who always just vibed while anesthesia was wearing off.

I definitely want to go back to that penninsula, there's a lot more to explore. Probably do it on a hot day so walking in the lake won't feel as cold.

#ember #cinder #west siberian laika #hiking #eclipse #lake erie

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pandulce135 · 5 months

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Okokok anxiety ridden single father dad getting high with Glenn just to relax

But it ends up being a paranoid high

And so Glenn has to comfort him through the worst and first and probably only mega disasters terrible badbadbad bad trip

Fear the Highs and Fear the Lows

Note: I started this a hot minute ago but here we are now! I was able to pull from my own experiences of getting high, and while I don't get anxious while high, I was able to recall my first big high. This one is short and sweet but I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: drug use, anxiety/ panic attack, bad trip

If you enjoy, consider buying me a ko-fi!

You stared the joint you held between your fingers that you were just handed. The brown wrapping was oddly smooth and pretty nice to the touch, but now the space around you reeked. You had never gotten high before, not even during your college years. You prioritized your learning, making sure you got good grade in your classes. Between classes, you worked at the school library and at the local grocery store on the weekends.

Your nerves were already acting up. Being lost in some sort of dimension with your son missing made your heart pound in your chest. Your hands were sweaty and it almost felt that with each passing second, the joint was getting heavier. Getting high on top of everything that’s been happening? It probably wasn’t the smartest idea.

“I don’t know, Glenn,” you said quietly as you finally pried your eyes away form the joint you held. “I don’t think getting high is a smart thing to do right now.” When your eyes settled on Glenn, you finally noticed how calm he was. While it was dark out in the forest you all found yourselves in, there was a fire that sat in front of the two of you that lit up his features just enough. His shoulders were rolled back, his head was lolled to the side, and he wore a stupid grin.

“Don’t freak out.” He gestured with is hand to remain as calm as you could be. “You’ll ruin the vibe. This is the stuff I use when I need to chill out, too, bro. Just try it.” He leaned back on his hands, getting himself comfortable for the high that was about to hit him.

Your eyes met his brown ones, the whites of his eyes now a pinkish, before looking at the joint in your hand again. “I’ve never gotten high before.” Your voice was quiet and weary and its higher pitch of embarrassment didn’t escape Glenn’s hearing. He chuckled.

“A good lookin’ guy like you never went to a frat party and got high?” Glenn leaned back and ran a hand through his hair before looking back at you. All the while, you felt a heat crawl up your neck to your face and ears with an embarrassed frown to showcase your flustered state. “If you don’t like it, I won’t make you do it again. I’ll be right here, too.”

Your gaze met his and his dark eyes held a rare sincerity shown only during his most vulnerable moments. Strangely enough, you found yourself relaxing slightly with his calm stare. This wasn’t a great idea, you knew this. But, if it could help you relax for awhile while the rest of the dads were asleep, and maybe even get you asleep, who were you to refuse?

Holding his stare, you brought the joint up to your lips and breathed in.

“Wait-”

It was too late. You were a coughing mess, leaning over to the side, away from Glenn, who was laughing like a maniac. He reached to save the joint as you coughed up what felt was going to be your right kidney. It was weird. It wasn’t a scratchy cough like when you’re clearing your throat, even though your throat needed that scratch. It was not a satisfying cough.

“You took too big of a hit for your first time, man,” you heard Glenn say between your coughs. He was sitting straighter up now, you noticed.

When you finally caught your breath and sat up straight again, the high came crashing in like a tidal wave. Your brain felt like static and you no longer felt like you were sitting. It was like you were in water, with how your body felt like you were in constant motion. You had to fight the urge to allow gravity to tip you over. Your throat felt dry but that wasn’t what occupied your mind.

Glenn seemed to have noticed the looming thoughts finally taking hold of the forefront of your brain, your facial expressions gave it all away.

“Whoa, man. You good?” He asked, his hand beginning to reach out slightly as you stared at it with wide, paranoid eyes. His fingers looked so gentle, Glenn was trying to be so calm for you, but with a quick glance up to his face, you knew he wasn’t exactly comfortable navigating the scene before him.

Your eyes dipped down to the ground again. The world around you felt shaky and you felt as if your heart was about to beat out of your chest. You heard your breaths, no longer as calm as you could be, but rather erratic. In-out. In-out. In-out! You held onto the front of your shirt as you tried to relax as well as you could.

“Hey,” you felt a warm hand on your back and you couldn’t stop yourself from flinching. “Hey, look at me.” Glenn’s voice rung through your head and got you to finally look at him. “Talk to me. What’s going on in your head?” He captured your attention, and your panicked eyes landed on his once more. Calm… collected.

“Our, our kids,” you croaked out. Your throat was still dry from taking such a big hit. “What if we can’t save them? What if we get them killed? What if we get killed?” Your eyes searched Glenn’s for an answer, anything even. He remained the same. “Glenn!”

“Don’t think like that, man.” He adjusted how he sat so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders. “We’ll take it one day at a time.” He held you close and you let your head fall on his leather clad shoulder. “The worse we get, the less likely we’ll be able to help our kids. We gotta stay strong.” You let him support you as you finally began to calm your breathing.

After a moment of silence, you were able to find your words again. “I’m scared.”

“Yeah, me too.”

#glenn close #glenn close dndads #glenn dndads #dndads #dungeons and daddies #dungeons and daddies fanfic #fanfic #dndads fanfic #glenn close x reader #x reader #x reader fanfic #writing #fanfic writing #tw drug use #tw weed #weed mention

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isindismay · 9 months

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Wow. Finished DE. I didn't expect it to wrap up so quickly. I feel regret for all of the things I missed and didn't see to the end. I was repeatedly hit in the face with case-related things I'd screwed up, but it was already too late. But despite all of that, I'm not entirely dissatisfied with my ending.

I was merciful to suspects, which Kim was supportive of (not that I need approval to know I did right, I mean to say it made me like him more). Some people died despite my efforts to save them and that's hard to take. But I didn't kill anyone or directly cause anyone's death, things I was very worried about in a game where you play a cop. I'm devastated that Kim got shot because of me, but he was trying to help Harry at the time and... no that just makes it even more devastating. I thought we were both dead. Then I thought he was dead. Then Cuno's account made it sound like he was doing okay, but what Jean said... I don't know if he was just trying to make me feel bad or if it really is doubtful he is going to make it. Despite missing Kim, it was fun having Cuno as a partner for a short time, and seeing Cuno's rage turned around to support Harry was really something. Convincing my colleagues to recruit him felt like the right thing to do.

Apparently marriage is not a thing in Revachol so probably adoption isn't either, so I imagine Harry will just let Cuno live with him in his run-down apartment. Cuno seems proud of being off drugs, so I think he'll end up being a good influence on Harry, more so than Harry setting a good example for him. I don't think Harry would be the perfect dad, but he'd try, and he'd do better than Cuno's actual dad. Lena will be happy to hear the Phasmid is real, and the story itself will be enough for her. If Kim doesn't make it, I fear Harry won't be able to cope with the guilt and would spiral the drain even with the responsibility for/support of Cuno. So let's just say Kim survives at least. Kim would be amused/appalled at Harry taking Cuno under his wing. There is absolutely no way Kim will believe they saw the Phasmid, no matter how emphatically Harry and Cuno describe it for him. Harry will keep on making excuses to call/go see Kim. And when Kim's recovered as much as he's going to, the three of them will make another trip to Martinaise to see how everyone is holding up (neither of their precincts will approve of this waste of time, but who cares?) Cuno will go visit his biological dad and maybe confront C again. And what about that hole in the church? Is there enough hope in Martinaise to keep it at bay, or is the pale seeping in? Did Ruby's machine cause further damage to reality? Maybe their visit will not end up being as short as they intended.

I was very tempted to click New Game right after the credits rolled. But I had to debrief first. I want to play again with the skills weighted differently. There's different avenues I want to explore, paths I started to walk but never reached the end. There's also options I won't take, ones I know I could never live with.

I don't think I'm ever going to stop thinking about DE. It's more than a game, it's an experience.

#disco elysium #disco elysium spoilers

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tjreidwrites · 7 months

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Movie reviews for spooky season !

I remember feeling bad for Danny in ‘The Shining’. My first time watching The Shining, a Stanley Kubrick film, I was about thirteen years old then. I remember sympathizing almost to the point of tears for him. All he wanted to do was enjoy this huge lonely hotel that his parents made him go to, and by the end of the trip his father is trying to kill him with an axe. The haunted Overlook hotel left its mark on Danny to say the least.

The movie starts off a few years after The Shining ends. Opening with a nightmare scene of Danny terrorized by his experiences at the Overlook. I was surprised how much of the movie used new actors/actresses to play reprised characters. I liked the decision. Alex Essoe plays Wendy Torrance In these bits, I wouldn't have minded more she was amazing in the role. Her voice was a spot on impression of Shelley Duvall (original Wendy). Dick Hallorann was played by Carl Lumbly. He to was beat for beat like the original Hallorann, Scatman Crothers. We see Dick Hallorann make a very impressive monologue to Danny in the beginning of the film. Not only does he eerily remind you of the original character, he explains the plot and gives exposition in a way we can respect, because as the audience we understand young Danny needs to hear these things from Dick. If not for Danny’s shining angel, I believe he would have been a goner early into life.

We skip ahead to a much older Danny Torrance played by Ewan McGregor. We learn quickly that after his mother died in 1999, he lost himself to drinking and drugs as well as bar fights. We see a very violent one that shows no doubt Danny has been in his fair share of fist fights. It becomes clear he doesn't have much regard for anything. He’s haunted by his ‘shining’ ability, both a blessing and a curse for Danny.

After not listening to a vision of Dick Hallorann after a long night of binging cocaine, Danny makes the questionable (at best) move of leaving a toddler boy next to his unconscious mother who looks like she could just be sleeping, but also rather pale and still. Whether its fate or divine purpose Danny soon finds himself in New Hampshire where he settles down in a small town there, with help from his new best friend, Billy.

One of my favorite moments in this film is when Danny stumbles upon the dying man and the ‘grim reaper’ cat at the end of the bed. We learn here that when Danny is in touch with his ‘shine’ he has an uncanny ability to comfort those who are about to pass away. He talks to this man telepathically which calms him down as he says, ‘ you are exactly where you need to be.” Eight years go by as Danny works as an orderly at the local hospice. Staying sober and regaining purpose in his life by helping those who need some reassurance before they pass on to whats after.

While Danny enjoys the day to day with a clear head, Rose the Hat and her crew of...people? They are not quite human. They feed on steam. Steam is what people with the shining (like Danny) have inside them. Rose and the gang are attracted to steam the same way people are addicted to drugs or need food. This results in a good reason why there aren't more people with the shine that know about each others existence. Not only do Rose and her decibels kill those who shine, they aren't eating well and need more. Before they literally turn to dust.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Mike Flanagan helms the director chair well. He wasn't afraid to take chances and it paid off. By the third act of the film we are at the overlook hotel revisiting some memories from the shining. Even though some of that felt like fan service, Flanagan’s choices made it work. The end of the movie ends the same way the first shining book ends, wrapping the two films up in a bow. Doctor Sleep truly feels like a sequel to the movie, and the book.

Casual fans of ‘The Shining’ might not love this movie. For me, it was great because it broadened the idea and opened up a new world of possibilities. It gave Danny Torrence a chance at a new life, and even though it wasn't smooth, it sure as hell was interesting. The score was good, and the editing and cinematography hit all the right notes as far as being its own thing and also being a sequel to a Kubrick film.

#book blog #writing #new writers corner #movie write up #movie reaction #movie critique #movie review #film addict #short film #stephen king #the shining #doctor sleep #spooky season #halloween movie #happy halloweeeeeeen #halloween #fiction #writers on tumblr

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loverockawaitsyou · 2 years

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Took some mushrooms last night and went to party...

I had planned to take mushrooms and chill out at home in my room with some music, but the BF invited me to a friend’s party after I had already taken my mushrooms. I decided to go.

I took some pure mushrooms. I’ve done it once before, but I stayed at home. The experience was pretty great, and I felt relaxed and “spiritual”. This time around, I was feeling really good for the first couple of hours, but I started to feel really trippy towards the end of the night, and not in a great way.

I can’t even begin to describe what I was seeing. I felt like I was in a Salvador Dali painting, and at the same time, I felt like I was peering through a fish-eye lens. I could see and hear in 4K, LOL. Additionally, my concept of time was skewed, and it seemed as if people were teleporting. I never noticed when people walked from one spot to another.

Anyways, I think I got a little over stimulated, I was in an unfamiliar place with lots of lights, screaming sounds, music, fog, and I could sense a bit of bad vibes from a couple of people at the party-- included two or three guys who didn’t seem to like my BF and I could tell they didn’t want him there. I’m pretty introverted, so I can handle being around people I don’t know/am not comfortable with for only so long. Perhaps that’s what caused my trip to go south. All I know, was that I was ready to go back home and lay back in my warm cozy bed, and not be passed out on some stranger’s couch.

I am not a heavy drug user at all, I had taken pure mushrooms for the first time in nearly a year. I smoke weed a couple times a week, and occasionally have a drink.

Just detailing my experience!

I’ll probably try mushrooms again, but I’ll definitely stay at home and enjoy them there.

#mushrooms #psylocibin #tripping #psychadelics

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coyoxxtl · 2 years

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if you don't mind me asking, which is better, tripping on acid or tripping on shrooms. also is it possible to get cross faded or do they cancel each other out?

not at all I love giving drug advice :3c

It’s hard to say what’s better bc I love both but I believe they serve different purposes and thus, different experiences.

Acid trips are like, a fun loud party you have to commit to. Their trips last about 12-14 hours, and tend to make one pretty active. You wanna do like Everything, like watch movies/shows, listen to music, walk around outside, etc. Drawing is also incredibly fun on acid, and I can safely say they helped me understand color theory better than any class. Colors are incredible and everything has a rainbow veneer, one time it made Metalocalypse looks SUPER HD and I was convinced that it was a part that didnt exist outside the trip ghrheh. The one downside I can say is that having a bad/weird trips is fairly easy, since they last so long. I took acid quite a few times and my last two trips ended up being weirdly scary even though I knew how to handle my acid. It’s a fickle mistress, but I have tons of fun on it and if you take your normal pre-trip prep it should be gravy.

Shrooms (the ones I took were psilocybe mexicana) on the other hand are like, it’s chiller less neurotic sibling. Shroom trips only last about 6-8 hours, and they don’t wanna make you do shit lol. The kinds of stimulus I want on shrooms is v different than acid, p much strictly natural stimulus; sunlight, trees, wind and water noises…also dancing lol. Colors are still vibrant but theres more patterns floating around (funnily enough they look like the patterns found in pre-columbian mexican codices; mexican flavored visuals lol) They also make you Super social, like when I took some w two other friends all we did that whole trip was talk about awful work stories. When I try to watch something w a friend we just end up talking about what we’re watching instead of actually paying attention. It’s like a homey lil trip that makes you feel good in a soft and comfortable way. In fact, I took shrooms the days after I felt I emerged from an acid trip wrong. tho I can’t say I took a HUGE dose of shrooms yet, only 2g doses, so I don’t think I had a chance to completely lose my gourd on them yet unlike acid ghggh

I think the difference between them lies in their purpose, acid is made to be a party drug, a good time to have in concerts. It comes from ergot, a fungus that grows on rye wheat, concentrated into liquid and saturated in paper. and is theorized to be why the mass hysteria in Salem broke out into the witch trials. (baking the fungus into their rye bread left trace amounts of LSD that may have drove them apeshit) while Shrooms we’re used as medicine, for rituals of internal healing, and they definitely act as such. You also consume them the way they are grown in nature, save for some processes.

As far as getting crossfaded w them I have no idea I haven’t actually done that yet🤔maybe one day

#i hope this is comprehensive hegrhegrheg #im not good at this sorta thing but god do i try #ask

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fatherlybeast · 2 years

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Hello how are you?

I have been feeling very numb for a really long time until last summer.

The summer trip was one of the best decisions Ive had for a really long time, I reconnected with old friends, made new friends, saw new places, tried new drugs, explored my bisexuality (and it even turned into an inside joke “bisexuality isn’t a choice it is a game and I am winning” LOL), played Steven Universe songs on ukulele at the beach, got into new heated arguments and so on and on. On that note, I think skinny dipping should be legal even at public beaches, it feels very freeing. This is not about me and my obsession with stripping naked though.

But I have been still feeling a little numb after “adventure time” ended. There’s just something about daily human experience that just doesn’t faze me. I loose my interest quickly. I think it’s the same for most people, they just don’t say it out loud. I don’t either, I just disappear into the wind as this feels more humane. An astrologer said heavy aquarius placements in my chart gives me a strong but restless mind and it would naturally be hard to be inside my feelings. A strange combination indeed considering all I crave is real human emotions and well… I believe the only real value to human life is diving into the experience of the full range of emotions, the good and the bad, which is something I am not so skilled at. Its almost like there’s always some sort of distance between me and rest of the world.

But this time leaving isn’t really a choice, Ive built a career and Ive been giving it a lot of time and energy. And I have been getting good bread, except it never felt fulfilling. The learning is good, my curiosity gets satisfied on a daily basis but only academically. And I do not wish to feel like a glorified artificial intelligence inside a meat body. Maybe it is because I have always had nice things around me growing up, money was never an issue (well except a few times) and I never really needed to worry about it. Maybe it is because success always came easy to me, maybe I don’t want to lose myself in the system and completely lose my soul along the process. Well my work isn’t a 9 to 5, and it is actually quite a lively sector. But then what is the issue with me? Why do I have to always chase for more? Why do I have to chase after something that I can’t see or explain, but something I believe to exist with all my heart even though I can’t prove it? Am I wrong, is it just psychosis?

The economic crisis in the country affected me in a good way in that sense, I had to learn that it could all go away. I turned the script and started living lavish again (the word lavish always makes me laugh but it gives the message lol) and this time it is all my own effort. But isn’t it the truth for everything in life? Quite literally, everything does go away. Human life is finite, both the emotional and the physical parts of it. No feeling lasts forever, no flesh lives forever. I might quit one day and start doing something else, but not in foreseeable future that’s for sure. I plan to have a farm when I am older, I want to live the simple life with just music and people I love near sea side, ultimately a beach house. Is this why the pace my hair gets white makes me happy? Because it makes me think that eventually I will get to that calm peace and I don’t have to be restless and in search of something all the time?

And I actually find peace in the fleeting nature of life, it makes you feel gratitude when you got something that gives meaning to your life. Time is always running and it motivates you to do your best to make the most of it. Waiting is rarely an option unless it’s something truly exceptional. You have to cherish people while they are alive and you have to feel what you feel before it disappears into nothingness forever. And why is it so hard for me to hold onto things? Is it the same for everyone else?

But meaning… this concept has been the central focal point of my life as far as I can remember. That sense of wonder, exploring where your journey leads, the curiosity. That’s what life meant to me, a learning experience, really. I always thought “I will learn the human experience” but then it got well, dull. Maybe I learnt too much that I lost interest, maybe I tasted too much that I lost my appetite, maybe its the trauma messing with my brain.

But it all seem to be returning. Even more so after I met this beautiful guy.

There’s a rawness to his very being (and no I am not talking about fucking bareback lol) , a strange depth to his feelings and his charming silent nature… A soul that has so much life in it, I think he doesn’t realize it yet. He doesn’t understand that the price he pays for being real is actually worth it. But he’s very open minded, which amazes me further.

I felt so much feelings in last couple weeks than I have in a very, very long time and it is so weird in the sense that I can’t truly explain it yet. I hadn’t realized that I had the room for such colorful emotions, I thought I became all work and no play when my order came in the mail, which I paid couple five figures in cash for, and didn’t even open it the minute I got it. I thought what’s the hurry, it’s just an object: it can be easily replaced or thrown out, it has no real value no real meaning. I returned to finish a commission I had. Funny I have been talking to a friend lately, he told me that I needed to love money to attract more and that way I could give more to the planet pointing to the fact that people generous like me should have the money as we tend to not keep it for ourselves. He was right, I need to love money, I need to want more. More, more, more… Where does it end? I don’t know, but I am willing to figure out. Even though it was never what I wanted, it was never what I needed. But maybe, just maybe there’s something I don’t know about this matter yet and I need to explore this journey further. I don’t wanna keep saying “great, Mert, you have become another shiny cog in the machine, another slave to the corporate ladder, another Capricorn who rises to the top.” I craved real human emotions, no matter the kind I guess, and this is uncharted territory. There was a complication with a project this morning, I handled it quite smoothly. I felt a strange satisfaction, but again can it ever fulfill me? I already know I am smart, what do I learn here then? Is it about accumulating information as much as my brain can hold? Is it the creative expression of mathematical algorithms that I am perfecting?

And I have been having issues with it, it’s hard to find balance for me, I don’t know why. Having so much nuance and facets to your being can be a hindrance so it seems, noted. Another useless information. Why do I feel like I am wasting time? Even though I get material currency in return? Where does it end, flaunting your shiny possessions to get validation from strangers? There is no point to any of it.

Couple months ago I contemplated about fucking the best friend of a guy I dated 5 years ago, and I felt barely anything. Not guilt, not reminiscence, nothing. I mean maybe this doesn’t count as it’s not like we had a bond with him or his friend. But I thought it would cause some complications. On the other hand the only reason we interacted was because of his beauty and his weird obsession with me. We talked about how he is not happy with his job and how he dreams of a better future. I didn’t say much, I am quite undecided on the matter. It appears he came to this city for better job options but got stuck inside the proverbial ladder. And now he says he just wants someone to hold him inside their arms. I didn’t really feel sad for him, there will be always people who earn more and earn less. But I do wonder what makes some people luckier than others? It is truly a sad illusion the way some thinks they are better or worse than the rest. Nobody should take themselves that seriously, after all in 200 years all the humans on this planet will be dust, all their songs and stories forgotten and the things we have or do… is a work of intricacy and luck, we don’t have much control even if we would like to think so. It’s hardest to find something that makes you forget this, even if for a while… And wealth can never be the true value of a person when it’s mostly predestined.

Someone from 9 years ago found me and approached me. We talked and somewhere during our conversation he said he kept listening to the the smiths album I sent him for a very long time. “Strangeways, here we come” said I was always ahead of time, referencing the things I told him all those years ago and the music…Oh the music… And it appears he is an artist right now with a good amount of following. I didn’t even freak out when he told me my phone number from memory asking if it’s still the same number and invited me over for a cup of coffee. Strange ways indeed. I couldn’t really remember why I didn’t send him louder than bombs back then though, I find that stranger. I said we would catch up later, but it got out of my mind and I don’t really feel anything towards the whole thing anyway…

The mentally ill ex friend I used to feel sad for apparently is still obsessed with me. I used to feel pity but find entertainment experimenting with his inner workings. This time even that didn’t make me feel anything, maybe a sense of soft pity for 5 minutes. I hoped it would make me feel a strong emotion, I played along with it for a while. And nothing… Just boredom, the urge to leave a movie theater before first half ends because... it's just not it. Even the unhinged became predictable. What do you do with that? Just another flesh suit trying to survive, and in need of things to believe and prove. His shaky voice, his cute little tactics, his incoherent sentences...Nothing to see there, nothing emotion provoking…

A friend from high school texted me couple days ago, told me her husband is in the same industry as me. And they have been talking about me whenever they were having some annual high school meeting or something and they have been wondering about me and how things went for me. “You have always been a wild card and you always surprised all of us” You have no idea how lucky you are to be still amazed by most simple things my dear friend. Everything in this life is interesting if you have the wonder inside your heart and when all becomes predictable… well that’s something else. And I am no exception. “You did make it rain that day as you said you would” yeah I know: even the craft is easy. Maybe I should look into it further, there has to be something to explore there…

Last year I've had couple place holder "relationships". I ghosted all of them except one. In my defense they were in it for their own agenda, the usual attention seeking and fear of loneliness. I regret none, they too know there was never love in the first place. And I hope they find it a silly little funny thing that's not worth mentioning now. It was more like trolling ourselves and coming to mutual agreeing about the only solution: synchronized ghosting! (lol) Why was I in them? I needed to distract myself and I hoped, god damn it, I did hope one of them would make me feel anything worth feeling. No luck there. I used to think about it a lot: how relationships are formed. When we say relationship what do we really mean? How do you measure the closeness? How do you define what is it that you exactly feel when emotions keep ebbing and flowing all around and inside us? I didn't ask these questions back then because I didn't care at all. I am still in contact with one of them, we laugh about it often and we send each other memes. I find it very human, we formed a different lighthearted bond because we were both miserable in a similar way. We are two strangers waving at each other across the street we both happened to stumble upon. Really simple like that.

I have been feeling quite sad earlier this year, because of a relationship that ended terribly. It was a punch to the gut, really. And I thought about it for so long, I wanted to sit on it for a long time then the moment of truth came: I don’t care about the sadness, which was the only thing that was left. No matter how I looked at it: flip it, reverse it, turn it around, look at it with fresh eyes in the morning. Nothing. I got reminded of it all some time ago and realized how I grew… a complete stranger to my own experience and memories. But what was there to care for? Was I supposed to be sad because my love and kindness have been taken for granted and was weaponized to manipulate me? I was aware of it all while it was happening. I actually wanted him to surprise me, I wanted to see a person grow strong amidst hardship and do the unexpected. That’s why I was sad and even that disappeared as I knew it would. Forgiveness? Holding a grudge? How can you hate someone for being human? How can you hate someone for having a human heart? And why would it be my place to forgive someone?

Each journey to their own and it has nothing to do with me. I do not wish to be the judge and the jury of others. It’s a bitter place to be, thinking you know better when even the nature of truth is ever changing. No knowledge is meant to be trusted completely. Funny, I remember asking him on our first date “why do you apologize for being human?” I think he never understood what I truly meant. I remember the way he looked at me though and I remember thinking “now, this is a beautiful expression, there might be something more to this than just some physical attraction after all” Was I right? Was I wrong?

Interesting how simple questions usually have complex answers, and complex questions can be reduced to a yes or no.

Last summer I’ve had a date with the ex boyfriend of a friend of my ex boyfriend (such a strange sentence, I know lol) It appears we actually been together before but we both completely lost memory of the event (maybe because we both were in relationships back then?).He took out his phone and showed me pictures. And that was actually a surprise: how detached I can truly be. I always knew it, but didn’t realize it was to this extent. It was indeed not the first time we met. He told me my ex tells people I broke up with him because I was bored. Another expected behavior: was he supposed to tell the truth and make himself look bad? That’s why I left him, he was not a strong human. He was weak and that’s why he had to do what he did to stay alive. But then again, it’s all part of the human nature and that shouldn’t be held against people. He has been terrible, but why should he be anything else? Not everybody has to be just and decent, and that’s fine too. And maybe there’s something I can’t truly grasp about the nature of this duality, and maybe I am the bad guy for inspiring such intense feelings in people knowing how that would go? I would be fine with that too, maybe indeed I am the bad guy and this is the part I have to play.

But oh well enough chit chat, in a sense I managed to make this all about me, sometimes people think this is amusing and attractive, but I sincerely feel like everything revolves around me. Is this the Leo in my chart? The dark side of the sun? Or am I just too conceited, too self absorbed and egoistical? Even if that’s the case, I don’t feel bad about it. It is the truth of my experience and realistically speaking most things do revolve around me. It is a slice of reality that will exist until I take my last breathe. Or maybe its all just a glitch in the matrix and I severed my connection to the server somewhere along the way.

Okay for real, enough chit chat now:

Your existence did change a lot for me in a very short time. Today is your birthday and when I say happy birthday there are a lot of undercurrent to it. It is very selfish in its core. The first time you showed me a song you composed, I felt something unlock inside me: curiosity. I do want to know more, I do want to touch you more, love you more and have more experiences with you. Even though I know what we have too is fleeting, I am here for the journey. And I told you, I will be there for you if you fall that’s a promise I intend to keep. But I won’t tell you that I enjoy even the bad parts, which has the power to make us fail and hurt each other. At least not today. I have faith in you, that one day you will see what I mean. I welcome this experience with everything it has to offer, and I think the inevitable end makes this much more valuable. You make me laugh, swoon, agitated, hot and everything else, really. And I do enjoy it greatly. Thank you for teaching me things about myself.

When I made you laugh to your hearts content a couple days ago, seeing you smile so brightly made my eyes teary. Is it love? Maybe. I think it’s life itself, being in it and truly living your truth and sharing it with another soul. Isn’t that love? Hearts getting softer and softer together?

You showed me your music library (why do you have to use Apple Music though, god damn it :)) ), love me more by Mitski seems to be both our favorite picks from her latest album. It brought joy to me, really. I do need more of this, I need you to love me more and I am willing to love you more. What do you say to drowning in it? It’s what I do best after all, turning worst disasters into a field of flowers. Only for them to die sometime soon. Then it turns into substance for the earth. Not yet though, not yet. I know you can grow taller and I can’t wait to see the shadows you are going to cast.

“I will tear around in my sexy underwear like a god damn near sociopath. And don’t ask me if I am happy, because you know I’m more than happy.” :))

Do I dare get used to this? And risk losing it all? Or do I look at it from outside while I get to experience it from a safe experience? The answer seems to be too obvious.

Did you like my Marilyn Monroe birthday celebration impression last night? Be honest, mine was hotter wasn’t it? Say yes, don’t make me kill you. (LOL)

Questions, questions…

But I do want you to know this most important thing:

I am truly, truly, truly, truly grateful that you were born on this planet.

Happy birthday my love.

“It’s not like I like you or anything! Baka!”

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theghostpinesmusic · 9 days

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youtube

The thing that originally motivated me to drive all the way out to Colorado for this summer '22 run was the fact that after spring '22's PNW run, there weren't really many west coast Goose shows for the remainder of the year. My wife and I got tickets for the 8/25 show in Portland (which was announced later in the year), but we ultimately missed it because we both got COVID, and then we didn't get tickets for any of the other west coast shows because we'd planned a trip east to visit my family on 8/26...which we also missed, because we both got COVID. Eventually, we made up for this by figuring out a way to catch 12/30 and 12/31 in Cincinnati during a make-up family visit, but I originally thought that these CO shows were the only other Goose shows I was going to get to see in '22.

Then, there was the fact that 8/18 was going to be the band's sold-out debut at Red Rocks, and I'd never been to Red Rocks but had always wanted to find an excuse to go.

So, in my mind initially, the Red Rocks show was going to be the culminating night of a memorable run. In reality, I ended up thinking it was inferior to both of the Dillon shows, and it's one of the few Goose shows I remember leaving the venue being less than impressed with.

I mean, it's fine. I'm spending hours writing thousands of words about the band almost two years later, so clearly I got over it. But. It was kind of a weird show. I think there are probably a few reasons for this.

First, by the time 8/18 rolled around, I'd spent two days driving from Oregon to Colorado, then three days hiking and climbing mountains, with two of those days also including concerts that ran into the late night. I had to drive almost two hours from my AirBnB to Red Rocks, which meant after the show I was going to have to drive nearly two more hours back...and then wake up early in the morning to drive back to Salt Lake City so I could get home by the night of 8/20. All told, that meant I was pretty damn tired by 8/18, and "looking forward" to being even more tired over the next two days, even if the show was The Best Show I'd Ever Seen.

Second, I (and I think a lot of others) came into this particular show with sky-high expectations. Goose had and has a reputation for creating a lot of hype and then delivering on that hype almost impossibly well. I think they just showed up at Red Rocks on 8/18 and played a decent show, but with so many of us expecting this particular show to blow our minds that didn't feel like it was good enough.

Third, my whole experience in Dillon, the AirBnB, the climbing, the hiking, the two shows, was amazing. It remains one of my all-time favorite concert/travel experiences. Driving further to see an inferior show in a venue that was twice the size and filled (at least in my section) with "fans" more interested in filming themselves at Red Rocks for social media likes than listening to the show felt directly antithetical to the experience I'd had the previous two days and was, well, kinda gross. It left a bad taste in my mouth and ultimately made me decide to do a west coast run of Goose shows in the fall of 2023 instead of driving back to Red Rocks for two more nights.

For what it's worth, the two Red Rocks shows from 2023 are insane and you should check them out.

Anyway, this show overall is...fine. I don't have a ton to recommend from the first set: though the setlist is great, nothing really gets jammed out much. The set-ending "Arcadia" is short, but pretty damn epic, so maybe give that a listen.

The setbreak was weird because it was initiated by the announcement that Goosemas would be in Denver in December and the release of tickets for those shows. So instead of being able to enjoy reflecting on the fun parts of the first set while looking forward to the second, I was surrounded by people trying to buy Goosemas tickets on their phones while bragging about which drugs they were going to do in December. I wasn't going to be in Colorado in December, so it was just sort of weird and took me out of the experience.

When the band came back for the second set, they started with a great, jammed-out version of "Arrow," and the rest of the set afterward was, again, fine, but not particularly interesting, especially compared to the previous two nights.

I really loved getting to hear the "Elmeg The Wise" encore, but unfortunately it's not on YouTube.

What is available is this band-posted video of their cover of The National's "Bloodbuzz Ohio," which was played for the first time at Red Rocks.

I really, really love the original version of this song. I'm not a huge fan of The National, but the songs of theirs that I like, I really like, and this is one of them. It's largely because I'm from Ohio originally, and the lyrics really speak to my experience growing up there, especially the bit that goes:

I still owe money to the money, to the money I owe I never thought about love when I thought about home I still owe money to the money, to the money I owe The floors are falling out from everybody I know

So when Goose covered it for the first time, unexpectedly, at Red Rocks, while I was in attendance, it was a really emotional moment for me. There's no real write-up here, as it's not a song that gets jammed-out, but I thought it was worth sharing the story and the video anyway.

#goose #covers #the national #live music #music #jams #jam band #tour journal #writing #Youtube

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godsrejectedmartyr · 2 months

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i feel spiritually connected to my cat. like she is an extension of me. she’s so perfect. it makes me sad. i wonder if this is how my mom felt of me. i wonder if im the less intense version of my mom. less intense in the sense that my life experiences really aren’t that bad however i take literally EVERYTHING to the extreme in my life. i’m like the more miserable horror story of my mom. it hurts me to know how much my mom tries to keep me happy and keep me functioning. she’s so scared to leave me home alone now. i don’t blame her tbh, im a ticking time bomb. but as of right now, there’s no game plan. i’m just in another rut of repetitive waiting. numb it all out with drugs to keep myself lucid and confused at the same time. i feel like im both figuring my life out and ending it all at the same time. i feel like im setting the people around me up for some serious trauma. like god awful. gosh i just hope i lose more weight before all that though. ugh idk im so embarrassed. idk what ive become. my life feels like it’s ending. all i do is sleep, work, get high, sleep, get high, sleep, work, get high. you get the drill. it’s also super pathetic that all im waiting on is to feel loved by my boyfriend. to maybe know where our relationship is going. what the plan is. do i just need to stop doing drugs in general? maybe. but that’s ok. i plan on smoking my last joint tonight and be clean on until sunday, maybe later. i’ll take a step back from my little “marijuana induced psychosis/spiritual awakening” and work on art, get off social media, think and reflect on the world with a sober mind, get out and do things with my mom. make an attempt at being happy. maybe do something with my life. agh whatever. i feel like i’ve destroyed my life but really im just in a limbo. i want to get out of this limbo. is he gonna say no to a life with me and am i gonna lose myself to guilty pleasures and suicidal tendencies, or is he gonna communicate and turn around and be ready to love me and have a life with me. whatever though, ill just continue to wait. right now my boyfriend hasn’t texted me since sunday night. i messaged him monday morning, he hasn’t responded since. but he’s been online. he gets on his pc, plays video games, texts his friends online, but won’t answer my message. but i won’t send another message reminding him im here. he loves me right? so he’d think about me, right? the last message i sent was saying “yeah i get it, you’re busy, don’t worry haha. how was your trip?” and so i am just assuming he’s too busy to answer back to me even though he’s always on bauldurs gate. ugh, IM SO FUCKING PATHETIC!!! ALL DAY I FANTASIZE AND WISH I WOULD JUST GET KIDNAPPED OF WISKED AWAY BY SOME OLDER MAN WHOD JUST LOVE ME AND TAKE CARE OF ME WHEN MY MIND GETS TOO MUCH FOR ME. he was supposed to be that for me… he was the older guy who promised me he’d take care of me if my mind and the world became too much. all i wanted was a backbone. i still wanted to achieve great things but all i needed was a partner and someone by my side as i attempted to make my way through the world. but now i feel like im not in his world. a small part of me feels like there’s someone else in his world. i wouldn’t know, because he won’t let me into his world. i thought it was supposed to be our world.

look how stupid i am. laugh at me please. shoot me.

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solar--system · 7 months

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⚠️TW Suicidal Ideation and Drug Use⚠️

2 years ago today we tried LSD or Acid for the first time.

After living with our older brother for a couple weeks, he began introducing us to his life style: drugs and alcohol.

We didn’t ever drink much. Maybe a drink or two a night or every couple nights. If even.

Smoking was weird at first. We felt heavy. Weighed down. We couldn’t speak. Barely could think. The experience wasn’t pleasant, yet besides the uncomfortable feeling in our lungs, the experience wasn’t bad either.

But acid was different. Weed we had considered trying, actually had experimented with a bit on our own, but we never thought about experimenting with drugs beyond that. We knew that our brother used hard drugs at one point.

A memory of our parents coming home in a panic because they had to call the police on our brother after he and his girlfriend had a bad trip.

But I never considered that he’d offer us anything harder then weed. He’d cut back from all the drugs he had used to do, and as I thought this was one of the only things he hadn’t stopped. He never would quit smoking weed.

He had pulled this container out of the freezer. And then there was this little square sheet of paper he was handing me, a tab maybe two. He directed us on how to take it. Leaving the tab(s) under our tongue as we waited for the okay to swallow, was difficult. Especially when you’re drinking, and talking.

The world became fuzzy. Warm. I was solid and the world formed around me. Colors were bright and beautiful. It was easy to get sucked into something, yet just as easy to be distracted. I wasn’t really thirst. Surprisingly I still had some appetite, which our brother pointed out as strange.

We watched cartoons. Family guy, Rick and Morty, South Park, The Simpson, American Dad, Futurauma. All of which I could enjoy, except I found the Simpson to be boring, as an episode would start on the track of plot A and find itself somewhere in plot Z. And the connection between the two took actual focus to trace. The worst of the shows we’d watch was called SuperJail. Our brother claimed it was one of his favorite shows to watch while he was tripping, and I can partially understand. All the colors are super vivid, and the show was laced with comedy that I never found funny. Besides the humor I couldn’t stand the sheer amount of gore in each episode. Gore and death followed by more gore and more death and then their world moves on as normal. Probably the second or third shittiest thing about tripping.

The second worst thing, possibly the first, had to do with those glue fly traps that hang from the ceiling. Summer had recently ended, and my brother’s place was filled with those fly traps. Kinda gross in general, but when your mind is crossing wires and playing with your imagination, it’s much worse. I don’t even remember why they bothered me, but I spent a good chunk of time (at this point I really didn’t have a sense of time) sitting in my brothers bathroom staring down one of those flytraps. It was like the flys were still alive on the trap with the way our brain made it buzz. The next time I tried acid, we made sure to remove the fly traps beforehand.

And the worst thing about my trip, had to do with coming down. From the few trips I’ve had between now and then I learned I am not good at coming down. My brother tried to get me to sleep off the last of the high, which is what he and his wife did. But I couldn’t sleep. The world existed and I had the energy to exist with it. Often times our brother would find us curled under some heavy blanket, watching something on our phone, wide awake at 6 in the morning, clearly still not all there. Eventually he’d talk me into trying to sleep, and again eventually I would.

The first trip was the worst when it came time to come down though. Our brother and his wife had gone to bed, and I knew I should as well, yet I was awake, how were they tired? We pulled out our phone and started watching YouTube videos. Mostly Markiplier videos, ones we’d already seen before but that brought us back to a happy place. With time though, we moved to children’s sensory videos.

I don’t know what video we watched or even how we found it, but the screen was black as puffs of vibrant color swam through the void. The video often had three different colors moving against one another. And that caused my brain to jumpstart.

Three colors. Three brothers. We identified my brothers as well as ourself with the colors. And thought more about each person and how we related to one another.

Three colors. Three depressed brothers. Our depression came about in different ways, at different times, for different reasons, and the ways we handled our depression worked in a similar sense.

Our older brother more often then not expressed himself with anger. Yelling, punching, breaking things, insulting others. Yet he also shared stories with me as I struggled about his self harm and how broken and hurt he had been. This wasn’t a version of our brother we’d ever met, yet he felt just as familiar. He found his depression managed with drugs. When life got him down, he found an excuse to get himself high.

We expressed ourselves through tears and silence. The world was mean and scary and we couldn’t deal with the idea of someone hating us. Even having negative feelings about us was something we feared silently, making a point to judge how someone spoke with us, the way they moved around us, what conversations they’d avoid or pursue when around us. We hadn’t found a solution to our depression, but we knew of a couple options.

Finally our younger brother, he expressed himself quietly. It broke my heart the first time I noticed. He wouldn’t allow himself to cry, because he was worried about being punished for the act. Instead he’d hide himself away in his room and not discuss his feelings. Seeing him pull away like that, like we would, hurt. He will always be our baby brother. Cherished in a special place in our heart. And he was hurting like we were. Clearly he had not found a cure for his depression yet.

Three colors. Three depressed brothers. Three ways out of depression. Our brain convinced us. There were only three ways a person could beat depression, and the first option was already taken off the table. Drugs. Our older brother had used drugs to pull himself away from his depression and to an extent it probably worked.

Option two was healthy. Self betterment. Seek help, go to therapy, take meds when needed, exercise, drink water, eat. Depression didn’t have to win. The harder depression knocks you down, the harder you gotta pull yourself back up, until depression can no longer knock you down.

Option three was less healthy. Death.

Three colors. Three depressed brothers. Three ways out of depression.

Each brother was different with their depression and how they expressed it. Each brother would need a different cure to fix their depression. Our older brother had already taken the drugs path, which left two brothers and two roads.

Ourself and our younger brother who we adored.

Self betterment and death.

With the options placed before us, we had no choice. There was no way we could live in a world without our younger brother. We’d chose death, so that he wouldn’t have to.

The colors continued to move. They had never stopped. Egging on the ideas of our imagination as if it was a fun puzzle and not a grueling realization.

The reason we don’t say this was the absolute worst part of tripping, is because it never felt like a terrifying drug riddled mental break. It felt and still feels like fact when we think back on it. I know it’s not...

By this point the sun was rising, and our brother had pulled himself from his slumber, never one to sleep a lot. We sat and talked after he encouraged me to try and sleep. I did try and sleep a couple times with unsuccessful results. I’m pretty certain I didn’t even manage an hour of sleep.

We had plans that day, so instead of continuing the cycle of trying and failing to sleep, I got up and took a shower.

The night before while tripping we had decided that the jewelry in our piercings was uncomfortable, and removed all of it from the body’s face. Some of our piercings were still semi fairly fresh, at least fresh enough for us not to be comfortable leaving jewelry our overnight. It was a struggle to get the curved barbell back into our vertical labret, and after struggling with the piercing, using a mirror to help, pushing and wiggling the jewelry, and applying a hot compress, we eventually got it back in. (It should be fully healed by now but I would still be nervous about taking it out overnight.)

But the real kicker is: We would do it all over again. We want to do it again. I can’t explain why, there’s just an ache in our jaw, a shiver down our spin, energy flooding our body whenever we consider tripping again. Maybe it has more to deal with the addictive personality that lingers between our system.

Anyways remember kids. Drugs are bad. Don’t do drugs or colors will convince you of evil things.

#actually did #actually dissociative #did community #dissociative alters #dissociative identities #endo dni #osddid #traumagenic did #traumagenic system #did osdd #tw drugs #drugs cw #drugs mention #acid trip

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howaboutcastiel-personal · 1 year

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I don’t want to bother people. I don’t want to worry people or annoy people or bring down the mood.

But I want to die so fucking bad, and I want to tell someone.

It is getting bad again, and I don’t remember what it was like when it was bad before but I feel like it’s worse this time. Because I know more things, and now it hurts in the context of all of the knowledge and wisdom and experience. I want to self harm but I never do it hard enough I guess. I don’t really leave a mark very often and I fucking want to leave a mark. I don’t do razors but I just want to cut and slice and leave bruises and I want to become an empty shell of a person that doesn’t eat and doesn’t care and isn’t a burden on anyone.

I want to be that person that gets compliments about how I’ve lost so much weight and how I look great but it’s actually extreme malnourishment and it’s actually the drugs and the coffee and it’s actually me destroying myself from the inside and the outside and I very compliment I get just drives me further. And I want to disappear and I want to be the woman that men actually want. I got catcalled at the mall and my only thought now is why doesn’t that happen more. I want to be skinny so I’m acceptable. I want to be high so that I can bear to be here, and I want to stop taking the drugs the doctor prescribes that make me feel like I’m not a person. I will never be someone that is good enough.

I won’t ever be good enough for my parents and I won’t ever be good enough for myself. I’m pathetic and I am cynical and I am fat and unlikable and antisocial and I can’t imagine any man that would ever want me. It’s bad enough that I have trouble with men. I don’t know any good men and my standards are too high, way higher than what I actually deserve. And everything is loud. Too. Fucking loud everyone shut the fuck up please it’s loud and I want quiet and I want dark and I want it to be warm and sunny and quiet and I want to be alone so that I can destroy myself in peace. So that I can lose my grip on reality and no one will be there to pull me back down. Losing religion was supposed to make me understand that I have worth but I have never felt more worthless and finding God will not bring me back from that because he’s just another fucking man. And all of my friends have been depressed and I can’t tell them I want to kill myself because then I will be the one who is weaker than all of them and I will be the burden. And I am already the burden and I’m not just that, I’m worthless and I’m not deserving of any of them. And nothing matters to me anymore. I keep thinking “I’ll just wait until this season of the mandalorian is over.” “I’ll just wait until the trip to Disney world.” “I’ll just wait until graduation.” And then there’s nothing else. I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want to be here. And I don’t even care that my mom will be sad. I can’t be bothered to care. I’m not worth anything. I’m her disappointment. I’m everyone’s disappointment and the only one thing that I can do right is ending in two weeks. There’s nothing left for me and I keep searching for something but then I don’t even care enough to search anymore. Why would I want to get better. I don’t want to get better and I want the bruises to be darker and I want the cuts to draw blood and I want it to be quiet. I want to sleep forever and I don’t want to wake up and I can’t fucking fall asleep because it. Isn’t quiet. And I can’t cry. I can’t even fucking be bothered to cry because why would I cry. I don’t have the energy to cry. It’s not that kind of pain anymore it’s hollow and numb and nauseating. And I can’t stop and I’m not bad enough to get help and I don’t want help and I want help so bad I just want someone to notice and someone to actually care that I want to live. Someone who thinks Ik enough but I’m not enough so why would anyone think that. They wouldn’t. Because that would be stupid. I just want someone to know that I want to die. Put me on suicide watch. Take my razor away from me. Fucking do something or just go away and let me do this to myself

#diary #April

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apatheticdoppleganger · 1 year

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I'm scared of my own creativity.

My ability to invent and imagine things, worlds, versions of reality in my mind. I feel scared of letting myself go this part of my brain. During my psychosis, I let words, pictures, concepts escape in every way possible. Art, texts, and I never felt so lonely. Even though I was reaching out to everyone. Even though I was trying to not isolate myself. I never felt so lonely and misunderstood. What's more normal to not understand when someone is saying they're the descendents of aliens that have mingled with humans and has had several reincarnations to deliver an important message in order to save the planet although this message was lost through language and time, however a deep evil is trying to stop them from doing so.

Talk about madness. Still it could have been a good nanar plot. No wonder why no one understood me. I don't know how I would have reacted. No one told me "you're delusional". I was telling my mother all about me being the "chosen one" and my boyfriend that I was the reincarnation of a royal bloodline god-alien, and no one dared to tell me no. Everyone drank the flow of my crazy words until my parents realized it was not a spiritual illumination, but a psychosis.

So that was the trip to the hospital. Tied up to a stretcher, telling the nurses to remove their masks to show their true faces and trying to kiss one while they were sticking needles down my arms. Time felt like it was going backwards. Like clues of the future were spread on the road to the psychiatric hospital. Billboards telling me to secure my future, even traffic signs were a signal from the "Holy Mother" trying to remind me of my quest.

I ended up locked up for more than 24h in a small metal room and a yellow gym mat as a bed. No way to smoke, and people chanting with you when you bang at the door trying to get the nurses to get some explanation on what the fuck I'm doing here. Weirdly, I quicky abandoned the thought of escaping. I just wanted to be at peace. I was too scared of the nurses coming back at me and drug me with tranquilizers.

It was one of the worst experiences, yet my brain was so drunk on endorphins and dopamine, it felt good. It felt good to for once not think of me as a bad person, useless with no future. Sometimes I miss it. But the harm it has done to my relatives, I don't ever want it to happen again.

I don't wanna step too deep into creation. Not yet. I'm not ready, and I'm too lonely to go back into that. I need someone to guide me. I can't do this alone. I'm unsure about every of my decisions. I'm scared of my freewill and what it even means. I'm scared of conflict so I let everyone step on me. I really think people prefer me when I'm fading in the background. An invisible monster hiding under a lost adolescent mask. Who am I really? What am I?

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