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angelisverba · 10 months

Text

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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bokutosmochi · 6 months

Text

kinktober day four: public sex!

BETTER THAN ICE CREAM ♡ GETO SUGURU

fem!reader x geto suguru

ingredients: somehow, someway geto manages to coax you into having some fun with him in public

what's it: smut

allergen warning/s: public sex, fingering, mentions of geto x reader x gojo, reader is principal yaga's adoptive daughter because her blood parents threw her away, dubcon (just to be safe!)

sugar level: 2.4k

regulars: @ventdavi154 @deobiforever @sugusshi @angelshub

parlor's note: hello, hi, i am suffering from geto suguru brainrot, if you couldn't tell.

bon appetit!

depending on who you asked, you either had good or bad luck. your cursed technique manifested at an abnormally early age, six months old, and on top of that, you were born to a non-sorcerer family who thought to themselves "what else are we supposed to do when our child has some supernatural ability that no one can explain?" so they abandoned you. they wrapped you in, bless them, the softest cotton blankets in the house, laid you in a cardboard box, then threw you away.

thankfully for you, though they had no idea where they dropped you off of, it was in front of tokyo jujutsu tech.

it was a hot spring day when yaga masamichi found you. he just came back from a mission in shibuya, taking solace in the school when he heard a loud wailing noise from somewhere off campus. he could recognize it was a baby, but he just assumed that the cries was because of a more normal situation so he felt no need to intervene.

he trained some more, rested some more, all the while ignoring the sounds of weeping from outside. he forced himself to not pay attention to it "the kid's parents probably have it under control. don't stick your nose in other people's business." until he couldn't anymore.

you've been crying for too long, there was definitely something seriously wrong.

he walked out of the training room, jogging to where the sound came from with more than twenty questions in his head, and that's when he found you. all of a sudden, those twenty questions in his head multiplied. he could sense the cursed energy that you exerted, how old were you? and more important than that, where were your parents?

he took you to the police after that, not quite knowing what the proper thing to do in that situation was. they tracked your parents down, only to deliver the news that they didn't want you, again, bless their heart, they didn't tell the officers the real reason why they didn't want you, instead lying and saying it was because they couldn't support you financially. after all, they did still love you. there was just too much fear in their hearts about what you are. they took the legal action against them, and left yaga two choices: he could either surrender you to the adoption system, or take you in as his own.

he was only twenty years old at the time, not at all mature enough to be a father, but at the same time, he had no idea what would happen to you if you were put into the adoption centers. you could potentially hurt someone without meaning to, and they would hurt you. they would have no idea how to properly take care of you, given the fact that they don't even know about your atypical condition. so he decided to adopt you right then and there.

being his daughter meant you were more advanced than most of your classmates. your cursed technique manifested earlier than theirs did, and your father had a knack for teaching. it also meant that he was a lot stricter than most parents, making you "less fun", as some people would say it. he brought you up as a well-functioning member of society, and your sometimes friend, sometimes pain in the ass gojo satoru would put it, "a goodie-two-shoes."

you don't mind it now. no matter what they said, or how they viewed your hobbies, you still had a lot of fun doing the things that you love, even though it might come across as boring to them.

living the sorcerer life was enough excitement and adrenaline anyway.

as jujutsu sorcerers, you barely got any moments of peace. the fight and blood and, inevitably, death, was a part of your everyday life since you were a child.

it was only in moments like this where you're able to get some semblance of the peace you will never get.

it's six in the morning, the sun is up in the sky to rain golden sunshine on you and your boyfriend, suguru. it was unusually quiet, and you blamed it on the time. it was a saturday, and you knew that most people wouldn't be out and about until three more hours. not you and suguru. he insisted on going on a small walk, and while you contemplated about rejecting his proposition, you thought about how jujutsu sorcerers' life spans are shorter than the average human being's and agreed, wanting to spend as much time with him as you can.

the birds chirp happily above you, while cherry blossoms fall all around you, the vibrant green leaves on the surrounding trees sway lightly in the wind and everything looks picture perfect, including you and suguru, holding an ice cream cone each.

was it too early for ice cream? probably. did either of you care? not really.

you deserved the treat.

"let's sit." suguru said for the first time in a while. earlier, he felt no need to fill the comfortable silence between the two of you. the way his hands, so powerful and strong, softly held yours and the way his eyes, so intense and passionate looked into yours said more than a thousand words could ever hope to do.

you plopped down as close to him as you could get on the bench, winding your arms together while you laid your head against his shoulder.

neither of you said nor did anything, just enjoying the atmosphere silently, sometimes humming the melody of a song stuck in your head before it fades away into the cold air. that was until a stripe of your ice cream drips down the cone and onto your bare lap.

in an action that suguru would describe as helpful, and nothing but demure, he runs a finger through he sticky liquid and sticks the digit into his mouth, sucking it off. "mmm, that's good ice cream." he murmured, as if frightened that if he were to talk any louder, he would shatter this moment into piles of sugar glass and he'd find himself in the heat of battle, with people who are not his priority crying out for him and his grace.

"let me taste some more."

there was no more ice cream trails on your lap, so that statement in and of itself should have already warned you that geto suguru was up to no good. your second warning came in the form of him complimenting the short tennis skirt you wore that day. "have i told you how much i love this pretty skirt of yours?"

"s-suguru, not here."

two of his fingers, his index and middle caressed further up your thigh making your breath hitch in your throat and eyes to flutter shut. "lemme just make sure i got all the ice cream, alright princess?" he puts his fingers on his tongue again. "no ice cream here."

"fuck, sug'"

"how about over here?" at this point, his large hand is under your skirt, grabbing at the fat and muscle. the motion makes your stomach churn in a familiar way and you close your eyes tighter. one of your hands grab onto his bicep and grips.

it's embarrassing how you were already so worked up, but suguru just knew you like the back of his hand. he knew how to make you bend and break to his control and he loved it.

his fingers trace indiscernible patterns on your inner thigh, so close to where you needed him, but still, you were out in the open, in a park that's frequented by people of all ages.

with your other hand, you held onto his. "suguru, not here." your head's fogged up as you say the words that deny you of pleasure. you would've loved to let him have his way with you, but not here. sure, there weren't a lot of people yet, it's just a matter of time, though. in a few more minutes, you're certain that people will come strolling through one by one until the park's in full swing.

"it's just us here, baby. you don't have to worry your pretty little head."

you have no idea what happened to his ice cream. you don't even have a smidgen of an idea what happened to yours. one second, it was in your hand, the next, what you were holding was suguru's hand.

"we're going to get caught." you try to say confidently, but your shaky resolve shows in your equally shaky voice. your hand wasn't holding its own anymore, instead, letting suguru do whatever he desires, with it a ghost on top of his. "no we won't. i promise, kay?" you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head and that makes it harder to resist than before -- and suguru's hands on you was already hard to resist in the first place; he's never broken a promise before.

he runs his warm hand over your clothed cunt sending shivers down your spine and making you clench around nothing. "d'you really think i'll let someone else see you like this?"

you swore you wanted to answer yes. he's done it before; share you. one of his filthiest fantasies was to have you and satoru at the same time and you had no problem giving him that, because that was private, confined to the four walls of your bedroom and wherever satoru runs his mouth, but the man shuts up quickly when suguru shoots him that look.

you weren't able to say anything to suguru's rhetorical question. the bastard started to rub your clit with back and forth motions with his finger before you were able to get a letter out.

it was so unfair.

you couldn't see him. though your fighting spirit was more or less nothing but a heap of quickly melting ice cream on the grass, it'd weaken even more if you were to glance up at him. he'd shoot you a half lidded look he knows always works and you'd be wrapped around his finger in no time. it was like continuing to taunt the opponent when they already have the sword to your throat; a loss, but a determination through it. you weren't willing to admit it to yourself even if you already knew it in the back of your mind.

"there's no one here, kay, sweet girl? you've been working so hard lately, lemme spoil you a bit." you recognize the way he drew hearts on your clit before running it down your slit and back up again. "you're always so tight." he chuckled. "in more ways than one. you should loosen up a bit, hmm?"

you could feel the wetness pooling in your panties, the urge to moan out his name, but if you were gonna do this, you could at the very least stay quiet, so you gave him a nod, a signal that you were answering in the affirmative.

"ah, ah, ah," he breathed out right next to your ear. his finger on you slowed down to a cruel, teasing pace, just putting enough pressure to have you lowly mewling at his side, but not enough to give you proper satisfaction. his words was just as teasing "i wanna hear words."

you gritted your teeth, both in annoyance and focus so you wouldn't end up moaning instead. "f-fuck you, suguru."

his chest vibrated as he laughed heartily, shaking you with it. "that's not a stop or a keep touching me, suguru." he punctuated the sentence with a soft pinch to your clit through the fabric making you yelp and your upper body to hunch forward.

your reaction only made him laugh harder.

as each second passes, your brain gets foggier and foggier. it was harder to speak now than it was seconds ago; harder for your head to think of the words that'll grant you pleasure, and harder for your mouth to cooperate with your head. your hips had a mind of its own now, mindlessly grinding against his hand, spreading the wetness that have already seeped through your skirt all over the park bench.

"k-keep touching me, suguru, fuck, pl-please." you panted.

thankfully, with those six words, suguru decided to grant you mercy.

his fingers slipped under your panties, and went straight on your clit, making you go limp against the bench and your boyfriend's side.

"there you go, sweet girl." he murmured softly, gazing at the look on your face; your eyes closed in utter bliss, though scrunched up at the corners - it crumpled deeper in time with your thighs twitching - your mouth in a relaxed O, only to close whenever you gulped. "just relax onto me, yeah?"

it didn't take much more for you to get close. after all, the knot in your abdomen has been coiling since the moment he first put his hands on you.

suguru knew that too; knew you wouldn't last much longer if he continued to touch you like that.

the last straw was when he nudged the hood of your clit with his index finger while his middle and ring continued to thrust in and out of your wet cunt.

you came harder than you have in a long time. you don't know what exactly it was that made it so, whether it was the excitement of being in public, or whether it was the edging, but whatever it is, to some extent, you're glad it's there.

you saw bright white flashes behind your eyelids, and miraculously, you were able to keep quiet - at least as quiet as you can be - biting your lip as you came.

you were busy gathering yourself when suguru spoke again. "hmm, this may not be ice cream but it's just as delicious." when you meet his eyes with a glare, he smiles his crescent moon eyed smile at you. "actually, i think i prefer this one over the ice cream." he finished licking your arousal from his fingers.

"you know you're gonna pay for this, right?" you quirked an eyebrow at him, arms crossed on your chest. it didn't intimidate him one bit though. "sure thing, sweetheart. i'll be looking forward to it."

i get: reblog

you get: finger lickin good ice cream

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shotgunbunny · 1 year

Note

Hello! how about Sherlock getting jealous of the man the reader is spending time with and his deduction skills go out the window so he doesn't realize they aren't romantically involved 👀

═๑♡𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧♡๑═

WC:1.3k+ GIF by strdstpixie

{srry I got way too carried away in this little plot and I hope you like it anon even though I got side tracked}

{Warnings!! The most fluff!! The love language of flowers!! Literally just heartwarming!!}

♡being engaged to Sherlock could be hard sometimes. He was the most sought after bachelor before he met you when suddenly, he was ready to give his life to you.

♡Sherlock fans would often send you rude mail and menacing glares. Yet Sherlock would always tell you to ignore them.

♡Yet how could you ignore them when you got them everywhere. With Sherlock always at work, you decided to confide in your closest friend: Max.

♡You had grown up with Max and he was your dearest friend. He never upset you and often supported your ideas, he was truly lovely. Yet you both never saw each other in a romantic light.

♡One morning, after you had woken up alone due to Sherlock going to work. You decided to go and visit Max and see how he was doing as he was currently trying to woo a woman.

♡When you got there you were immediately encased in a hug and Max dragging you down the streets of London to go shopping while he spoke about how he was going to find the perfect bouquet of flowers to woo his lady.

♡As you were both strolling down the market with your arms linked, you felt eyes watching you. No doubt the folks that detested you for stealing Sherlock from his work.

♡When you turned to look you were shocked to see, Sherlock and Ebola stood there. Enola was talking to him yet he had his eyes dead set on you. You could see his jaw tighten and his hands crumple into fists.

♡You felt your heart race, Sherlock had never been angry, let alone angry at you which is why you were so nervous to see him angry now.

♡Max pulled your arm and dragged your attention away from your fiance babbling excitedly about seeing the perfect bouquet.

♡As you stood next to Max as he was looking at the variety of flowers, you heard the familiar voice of Enola grow closer.

♡Before you could even turn to see the girl, a hard chest was pressed against your back and an arm wrapped around your waist making you gasp. You turned and there was Sherlock.

♡He wasn't glaring at you, rather at Max. He jaw still clenched. You squeezed his bicep and he focused his attention on you. You raised an eyebrow at him.

♡Max turned his attention to you both and Sherlock spoke, "Dove, come on we must return home. We must continue planning our wedding. Enola had a few ideas."

♡You looked at him shocked, "My darling, can it not wait? I am busy here trying to help my friend."

♡"My dear, I do not care if he is your friend, I am your fiance and I require your attention more than him."

♡You glared at him, "Sherlock how hypocritical of you. You never pay me any attention so why should I give you any? If you are going to let your foolish jealousy talk for you then I suggest you stay away from me."

♡Max stared and looped his arm through yours and you continued strolling down the street, all the while Sherlock felt his heart crack.

♡He turned to Enola, "Have I really not shown her how much I adore her? Does she feel that deprived of my presence?"

♡Enola stared at him, placing a hand on her hip before glaring at him, "You are silly dear brother. You often go to work rather than talk to your dear future wife. You haven't even professed your love for her you stupid man."

♡Sherlocks eyes widened, "Help me Enola, help me fix my wrong."

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

♡It had been a day since you had seen Sherlock and you felt your heart ache a fraction over not seeing him.

♡Max had been wonderful and allowed you to stay at his house for the night where finally revealed he was trying to woo Lady Ristunberg.

♡You were awoken by a knock at the door. You grabbed a night coat and sorted yourself out so you looked mildly decent and opened the door.

♡Your heart hammered at seeing Sherlock stood there with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

♡"Sherlock? What are you going here? It's so early." You stared at his beautiful puppy dog eyes and how he was starting to get eye bags. "Have you slept?"

♡He stared at you, "I have not my lady. You see I require you to be happy with me so that then I can sleep peacefully. And due to the fact you are not, I have not slept and have dedicated the night to searching for ways to prove my love for you."

♡You stared at him and then at the flowers in his hand. "Will you give me a minute to change so that then we may return home?"

♡A sigh left his lips, and he nodded relieved.

✧──────────────────────────────────✧

♡When you arrived back with Sherlock hiding in your shadow, you were surprised to find the flat organised.

♡You watched as Sherlock walked past you and handed you 5 books. All the books that you had given him to read while he was trying to court you.

♡"What is this Sherlock?" He walked over to you and took the first book you ever gave him from your hands.

♡He opened the book and flicked to a page where a flower rested. A pink camellia. You looked at him, "A pink camellia. It symbolises longing. The first book you ever gave me when I was courting you. I marked the pages with how I longed for your love."

♡He took the second book, and there rested a blue salvia. "The second book, where you started to slowly give in to my advances. And then the first time I heard your laugh, your cute little giggle. I marked it that day with a blue salvia, it means thinking of you. I thought about the beauty of your voice for days on end."

♡The next book was taken and the next flower shown, a pink rose. "Happiness. A pink rose is happiness because everything you did, you do, makes me happy."

♡You felt tears gather in your eyes, as the fourth book opened and there was a red rose. He smiled shakily, "The day you agreed to court me I marked it with a red rose. It means I love you. Truly my heart belong only to you."

♡You felt a few tears slip at finally hearing those words. Sherlock leaned forward and wiped your tears before he took the last book from your hands and opened it.

♡Held between his fingers was a red flower, he handed it to you and you took it before staring at him. "A red salvia."

♡"What does it mean?" Your voice was so soft.

♡He chuckled, "It means forever mine. The day you agreed to marry me, you were forever mine. But the day you first spoke to me, I was forever yours. You held my heart before you even knew it. I know I am a hard man but my love,"

♡You watched as he got on he knees infront of you and stared up. You placed the flower on the side close to you, and put your hands on his face.

♡"I love you. I worship the ground you walk on. I am thankful to be near you. I adore you, and though I am terrible at showing it, I hope you know that I truly mean it."

♡You got on your knees and kisses Sherlock embracing the overwhelming amount of love that was in the room.

♡When you both pulled away, you placed your forehead against his and closed your eyes. You felt him take your small hand in his and you smiled.

♡"I love you too Sherlock Holmes so very much, all I ask is that you come home and spend time with me more."

♡"My dearest dove, I promise you I will. I will make sure you wake up drowning in my love. And then when your Mrs. Holmes you will carry our love." He chuckled and you blushed.

♡"You were quite attractive jealous though I must admit."

♡A laugh echoed around the room and he pulled you up against him and he dragged you to the bedroom. "Well then I must admit you're quite attractive covered in my marks."

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diefxrguns · 1 year

Text

𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐓

✯pairings- erwin smith x afab!reader

✯a/n- might be some mistakes, apologies. Do not share on tiktok without my permission. not glamourising pedophilia, Y/N is 18

✯synopsis- your teacher develops strong feelings for a specific girl in his classroom

✯ c/w- smut, teacher x student relationship. choking, spanking, and more- not comfortable? dont read.

"teacher's pet, if I'm so "special. Why am I a secret?" ✧

Your eyes couldn't concentrate on the board infront of you, never in your life have you felt this way for somebody.

Despite all the love letters from boys in your class and offers to go out on dates, boys your age-just didn't do it for you. Ya know.

There was always something about older fellows, but not to old. Maybe 25-35 since you were 18. It was appropriate after all- well for some people atleast.

Your mother would die if she saw the things that kept you up at night, on your laptop a stash of porn videos. All in the same category of porn. You had a thing for manthers, not the creepy pedophilic one's. The men who are like 30 with 20 year old girlfriends. Sounds normal right.

So when your new teacher entered the classroom, you almost fell out of your seat. His arms, his hair, everything about this man was just so fucking sexy.

He wore a blue button up shirt, that was long sleeved, but the sleeves were rolled up a bit- revealing his toned forearms. His pants were black and his blonde hair was combed back.

He had to be in his early 30's, but my God did he look so delicious.

He's an English, History and Biology teacher so he would be teaching you English and History, since those are the classes you had.

He started off by introducing himself, and went straight to work. Instructing the class to open their books on page 116. He got down to business, you could tell he was one- track minded.

His voice was so deep and demanding, but somewhat calm and smooth. He explained the work diligently. Making sure everyone understood the English lesson- before dismissing the class and closing the whiteboard marker.

As the days passed you did nothing but gawk at him, in classes you barley even payed attention. And oh- he knew you weren't listening. How your pretty eyes just stared into space, he knew exactly what you were looking at. He's way smarter then he looks.

There was one particular day, after class. You were looking at him the whole time, and he knew- but it bugged him because exams were coming up and you never took notes once. He knew your grades were sky high, and he didn't want you to fail your examinations. So he called you after class.

" Miss Y/N, please stay behind and take a seat" he said, as you were on your way out the classroom.

" Yes" you said in timid voice because of how shy and slightly intimidated you were

The older man sat on a chair opposite you, his back hunched and his elbows on his knees, he removed his glasses and looked you directly in the eye

" You're not paying attention, you think I don't know, you think I don't see how much you're looking into space during my lessons"

" Mr Smith, I'm really sorry " you said with fake sympathy, in all honesty you didn't give a fuck about his lessons. He's eye candy- who wouldn't look at him.

"Your results went from 93 to 50, your practice test results where lower then I expected. A five star student, became mediocre over night. I advise you tell me what's on your mind Y/N" he said straightening his posture and leaning back, never breaking eye contact with you

" Mr Smith, I've just been distracted lately, ya know, Like something is really troubling me". What you just said was true, something was bugging you. Everytime this fine ass man opens his mouth, breathes or even looks your way you cream your pants, leaving a stain on your lacey panties. That's the real problem.

" Ah, I see. Well, as your teacher I suppose you need to trust me with whatever it is you're going through. You need to get it out of your system so we can work through this" he said

" Well, I...um, i- I got dumped by my ex boyfriend and.. well he, he really hurt me. Its bothered me alot" you lied through your teeth, you never had a boyfriend. You just said that so that Erwin could feel sorry for you.

Immediately Erwin stood up and knelt down to your level, holding your hand gently. In this moment your heart was racing, you didn't know how to react.

What the fuck was actually going on here? Your teacher( crush) was kneeling down holding your hand, this was to much to handle.

" Y/N, I need you to not focus on other boys ok- they're a waste of time, I need you to think about bigger things. Like college and a husband maybe? You need a man that's going to take care of you, love you..."

Your chest was rising up and down as you took intense breathes, he was so close to you. His warmth was radiating off his big body onto your smaller one.

" After school I'll take you to my place, so that I can prepare you for upcoming examinations... Sound ok?" He asked as he stood up fixing his tie and getting his things

" ye-yes, it sounds awesome" you said standing up in a hurry and giving your teacher a big smile.

Everyday afterschool Erwin took you to his home.

He lived in a very spacious house, it was small but modern and fancy. A two story home with two bedrooms and two bathrooms.

He had two cats aswell, a grey one and a white one. Grey one named Oscar and the white one named Bunny.

His home smelled like vanilla and sandalwood, it was clean with grey and white accents. He obviously lived alone, but damn how can such a handsome and astound man be single.

He sat you at the dining room table with your books and tutored you, and helped you make notes for your exams.

He spent three hours after school tutoring you.

You were beyond grateful for this opportunity, because it made you and Erwin closer.

Even though you never really spoke about personal things, subconsciously your souls were somewhat aligned. Almost like you had a connection that you couldn't explain or describe, you just felt comfortable around each other.

A little to comfortable

After examinations, you stopped going to Erwin's home. There was no need afterall, I mean he stopped tutoring you because exams were over.

In all honesty you missed it, you missed him. So one afternoon you went to his house to give him some treats, just to say thank you.

You knocked on his door, patiently waiting for him to open it

And in that very moment your heart shattered, the pain you felt when the door opened, only to be greeted by an older women, her late 20's to be precise. Her ginger/ strawberry blonde hair was wavy and shiny. And her body was curvaceous and slim

Her nails painted red, she wore a tight black dress and heels, with pearls around her neck- and the cherry on top of the cake, was the 24K diamond ring she wore on her ring finger, indicating she is married.

Your face went red, not with anger. But with sadness, you felt like a fucking idiot. Falling for you teacher.

" Oh hello dear, you must be Erwin's student, please come inside. He must be thrilled to see you" she said, in a nice tone of voice as she let you inside

" Erwin! Honey, your student is here to see you" she yelled for her " husband" as she told you to sit and offered you a cup of tea

" Oh my, Y/N. This is rather unexpected. Why have you come?" Erwin asked as he dried his hair, obviously he just came out the shower.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, your eyes were visibly watery indicating you were about to burst into tears.

But you had to suck it up, and pretend like nothing was wrong

" I..I um- I brought you some gifts, just to say thank you for helping me with studying" you said handing him the gift bag

A smile appeared on Erwin's face as he opened the bag filled with chocolates, and sweets . But at the bottom of the gift bag was a letter, expressing your feelings to Erwin- and how you really felt about him.

He opened the letter silently, and reading it rather quickly before clenching his jaw, his smile faded into a puzzling expression. And he looked at you for a mere second before sitting on the barstool next to you.

His wife still making tea for the both of you including herself.

" So Y/N isn't it? How is school treating you?" She asked sitting across from you and Erwin.

" Well... Its, it's, it's great actually. Thanks to Mr Smith, your husband." You said, in a fake- nice tone of voice.

She didn't catch on to your obvious sarcasm but Erwin knew exactly how you felt about her, as said before he's smarter then he looks.

" Oh well, Erwin here isn't my husband, not yet. He's actually my fiance, we're getting married...soon I suppose" she said giving you a smile and sipping on her tea.

" That's wonderful news" you said sipping the tea.

Erwin sat in silence, drinking his tea and staring elsewhere, not daring to make eye contact with you or his fiance.

" Oh my, I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Mari Dawk" she said flashing you another smile.

" You see Smith and I met in our military days, he just caught my eye, he was one with the ladies too. She said waffling on about how her and Erwin met and how they got together. But in all honesty you weren't listening, frankly you didn't care, you were to hurt to listen to these stories.

She talked to much, but she was extremely friendly. You could see why Erwin was engaged to her, Mari would make a wonderful mother.

A few minutes passed and it was time for you to leave. You couldn't spend more time in this house, with Erwin and this woman.

So you said your goodbyes and offered to clean up.

"Can I help with anything, washing my mug?" You asked Mari

" No that won't be necessary Y/N, go home and get some rest it's late " said Erwin in a monotone voice.

You shut the door behind you and made your way home...

A few days passed and your behaviour changed drastically, you barely ate and you no longer enjoyed your usual habits.

You were on a break so you never saw Erwin.

When school was back on, you payed attention in class and actually wrote notes. He noticed your change in attitude towards him.

You no longer smiled at him when you entered to classroom, you no longer greeted him or said goodbye.

It was like you changed...

When the history lesson was over, you were the last student to pack your bag. Getting ready to leave, when Erwin closed the classroom door, locking it

" Why did you lock the door? I need to go home it's afterschool" you said in a cold tone of voice, not looking at him once, packing your textbooks into your backpack.

" Y/N, please stop this little act you're doing. You think I don't what you're up to? " Erwin said standing with his hands in his pockets, a few steps away from you.

" I don't care, if you don't mind I'd like to leave Mr Smith. I don't have time for this. If it isn't about schoolwork I'm not interested" you said

" The letter you wrote to me, well... It made me emotional Y/N" he said stepping closer and closer to you, only inches away

At this point you felt so broken and drained, it wasn't exactly his fault. How was he supposed to know you liked him and besides it's his life, he can't just dump his fiance for you.

" Mr Smith, I appreciate everything you've done. I'm sorry for that letter, I wasn't in the right head space. I just had a small crush, it was nothing serious. Please go back home to your wife and forget everything. " You said tears threatening to spill from your eyes as those words were so hard to say.

You couldn't lie anymore, you loved Erwin Smith. His smile, the way he comforted you and motivated you. His kindness, his leadership, his empathy. Everything about him lured you in. You still had feelings for him, you tried ignoring them and ignoring him. But truthfully you were hooked like a worm on a fishing rod.

As you were about to walk past him, he grabbed your arm. Forcing you back to him, his arm was strong. At this point you couldn't break free from his hold, even if you tried.

He held your waist, and placed a hand on your back rubbing it gently.

Things were getting out of hand, luckily there were no surveillance in his classroom.

" Y/N, I know I hurt you. I'm sorry, I'm sorry for leading you on. Truthfully I knew you liked me, I knew from day one. And I liked you too. Not in a daughter way, I like you romantically, I don't have feelings for Mari anymore. She cheated on me with one of my friends, and she came back. The only reason I let her back into my life was because my morals were telling me, that loving you is wrong. " The blonde man said with pain in his voice, he was being serious, he was genuine.

A passionate kiss was placed upon your pink lips as Erwin held you tightly in his arms.

Your hands made their way to his neck, rubbing the back of his neck slowly. Enjoying the kiss.

Erwin began to move his hands from your waist to your ass, lifting up your skirt as he squeezed your cheeks.

He broke away from the kiss

" Do I have your consent Y/N?" He asked as he looked you dead in the eye waiting for you to respond

" Yes, yes you have my consent" you said.

He kissed you even more, before bending you over his desk. Only to pull your panties down

" hmm, won't you look at that hey. All wet for me already, I haven't even touched this pussy yet"

He began rubbing your folds gently, making you whimper from every touch.

Erwin flipped you over, you sat on his large desk with you legs spread for him to see.

He unbuttoned your school shirt and threw it elsewhere.

And unclipped your bra, letting your pretty breasts drop.

He couldn't believe it, the sight of your pretty body, made him so fucking hard.

He gave you a kiss before flipping you back over again and kneeling down to your pussy. His tongue flicked across your already- wet folds, earning moans from you everytime.

He eventually inserted his cock into your pussy, fucking you slowly at first. Gradually he fucked you even faster, causing you to moan loudly.

Echo's could be heard throughout the empty classroom, as well as moans and pants.

The both of you came a few times, before deciding it'll be best to leave the school, before you both got caught doing your lewd activities.

And after cleaning up the classroom and getting dressed, Erwin grabbed you and kissed you once again

The words " I love you" falling from his lips

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iamnotoriginalphil · 1 year

Note

I love your writing so much! 😭 And I hope you had a great holiday season!

If you're not to busy, I was wondering if you would be able to write about teacher!reader being in a secret relationship with Larissa Weems. One day their students are paying a little too close attention during class, but when asked about why, nobody wants to tell them about the giant red lipstick mark on their neck.

(I hope that makes sense! The prompt has been haunting my brain for days now! 😂)

This is a really cute idea so I'm glad it was haunting your brain. I hope this lives up to it.

“And that is why if you turn to page 86 you’ll see how the claws transform from fingernails.”

You let your eyes rove over the class, keeping track of how much attention your students were paying to the lesson. Their eyes were surprisingly sharp, following you.

“So can anyone explain to me in their own words how that’s done?” you asked, waiting for Bianca to raise her hand. She never missed a chance for showing off to the other students that she was top of the class. Not that you could blame her. You saw how hard she worked for it.

Instead, she lent over to one of her friends, whispering something. The other girl giggled, ducking her head to keep from looking at you. Bianca sat back, looking satisfied at the response she’d gotten.

You might have left it there if they were the only ones. Unfortunately, Enid was watching you with a bright smile on her face, which wasn’t in itself unusual, but she was almost vibrating with excitement every time she looked at you which was. Werewolf anatomy was hardly her favourite subject.

Eugene was staring at you wide eyed, a flush evident on his cheeks. Ajax was nodding his head, staring at you with a slight smile on his face. Your eyes flitted from student to student, their interest making you nervous. You weren’t used to this level attention on you. The class before lunches always a little difficult.

“Alright, what’s going on?” you asked, leaning back against your desk.

“Nothing,” Enid trilled, grinning at you.

“Seriously, there’s something happening here.” You looked from person to person, “am I about to be the unfortunate victim of a class prank?”

“We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eugene said but he wouldn’t meet your eye.

“Thankfully, you’re all rather terrible liars,” you said, “so are you going to tell me?”

“Have you had a good morning?”

“Well, yes, thank you, Bianca,” you replied, not sure you were following the course of her question.

“Seems it,” she said, not quite to you but loud enough for the entire class to hear.

Some of the students giggled and you had to do your best not to start questioning them again. You knew a lost cause when you saw one, and clearly they would not be enlightening you. You sighed, turning back to the chalkboard to continue your lesson, only to have the lunch bell ring.

“Class dismissed,” you said, feeling rather bemused by the events of day so far.

The rush of footsteps leaving the classroom wasn’t nearly so deafening as usual, a few students lingering. You offered them a helpful smile, shooing them towards the door. Just outside in the hall, granting her genial smile on them, was Larissa, towering over the crowd. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered at the sight of her. Just that morning you’d had quite nice interlude in her office, lips and hands wandering as you did your best to keep quiet, lest someone hear you.

“Principal Weems,” you greeted.

Her eyes snagged on you as the last of the students disappeared around the corner. That smile softened, until her eyes swept over you. You saw the moment something changed. Already pale, she turned white as a sheet, eyes widening and mouth falling open. With a strong hand on your shoulder, she pushed you back into your classroom, door slamming closed behind her.

“Sweetheart?” Your eyes tried to search hers but she was looking at something. Something on you that you couldn’t see. Something that had worry churning in your stomach.

Her fingers gently traced something on the skin of your neck and you couldn’t help the shiver that went through you. You were helpless when it came to her. She let out a long shuddering breath, colour beginning to return to her face.

“What is it?” you asked, feeling frozen as her fingertips continued to brush over your skin.

“It appears we overlooked something when you left earlier,” she said.”

“Oh?” You did your best to lift an eyebrow but you’d never been able to. She chuckled.

“It seems I need to be more careful where I place my kisses when I’ve just applied my lipstick,” she said, “you have a lipstick mark right here in plain view.”

“Oh.” You thought about it, “oh, that’s what was going on with the students.”

“They noticed,” she said, not asking.

“They might have.”

There was a beat of silence. She looked at you, and you looked back.

The laughter burst out of the two of you, filling the room with noise. You lent forward until your forehead was resting against her body, her hands on your shoulders. You felt tears in your eyes and you were gasping for breath. It took a long time for the laughter to subside.

“Cat might be out of the bag,” you said, breathless.

“It’s going to be all over the school by the end of lunch,” she replied.

“It was nice while it lasted,” you said, “time to face the music?”

She slid her hand into yours, tugging you towards the door.

“At least now Coach Vlad will stop flirting with you,” she said.

“There’s that silver lining.”

You both laughed again, and life had never felt easier.

#larissa weems imagine #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems imagine #principal weems x reader

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chericheriladyxo · 5 months

Note

Could you do like a fluff fic about Mattheo bugging y/n during class? But like he's just being silly goofy and eventually y/n humours him once they're given time to work. Thank you!!

Ofc!! I love that thank you :) I kind of got carried away so I'll probably write a sequel, and I'm sorry if Mattheo isn't as edgy as he usually is but hope you like it!

Danish [fluff]

- Classmates/Acquaintances - Reader's house not mentioned --Read the Request Above!--

It was your first class of the day, and you were already feeling your lack of sleep from the night before. You trudged to your seat and set your books down on the corner of the table. The only good thing that you could see was Mattheo's absence.

You felt relived as you bent over to grab a pencil from your bag. When you sat back up though, Mattheo was sitting annoyingly close, with a stupid smirk on his face.

"Dammit! When did you get here?" You yelped, startled.

"I just sat down, were you worried about me?"

"Never." You said disgusted and turned your attention to the front of the room as the professor walked in. He started talking about transfigurations, but try as you might to focus, you couldn't help but notice Mattheo's shameless stare towards you.

You snapped your head to look at him, "Can you stop fucking staring at me? Is there something wrong?" You whispered harshly,

"Sorry." He said but didn't turn his gaze away. You scoffed and shifted in your seat uncomfortably. After a few moments, he whispered in your ear.

"What'd you have for breakfast? Because I tried those new danishes and they were- amazing." He practically moaned in your ear.

"Oh my god Mattheo- why did you do that?"

"What? They were really good." He sat back in his chair with a hurt expression on his face. You rolled your eyes as he made another comment, "So? What did you have for breakfast?"

"Um- nothing. I kind of lost track of time before class, I'll get something later." He was silent for a moment.

"I have danish left; it's all wrapped nicely and everything. Do you want it?"

"Knowing you, you probably put a love potion in it, with how much you seem to want my attention."

He scoffed, "I'm offering you the last of my stash of the most delicious pastry I've ever had the pleasure of tasting, and you still treat me like this?" He covered his mouth with his hand and pretended to cry.

"Would you shut up- we'll get in tr-"

"Miss l/n! Care to explain why you're disrupting my teaching so- loudly?"

"I'm sorry professor, it won't happen again." Your face flushed with embarrassment as Mattheo snickered to the right of you.

For the rest of the lesson, you stared directly at the front and ignored any attempt of Mattheo to distract you. After awhile, the professor gave the class time to work.

He stared down at the desk, "I don't know why I'm in this class, I mean- you're way smarter than me. I guess because my dad expects me to be the top of my class. As soon as he finds out my grade is slipping- he'll probably pull me out." Your face turned concerned at his sudden confession. "I'm sorry for getting you in trouble, it's not your fault I can't focus."

"Thanks.. it's okay. Maybe I'll try a danish tomorrow, if they're as good as you say."

"They are!" As Mattheo was about to say something, the teacher passed back the tests you had taken the week before. Yours landed on the table showing a solid A+, whereas Mattheo's was covered in red ink and marked with a D-. He cringed at the sight of his grade.

"I mean- you didn't fail?" He scoffed,

"Anything below an A is failing for my father." Then, his eyes widened, "What if tutored me?" He said suddenly,

"Would you even listen?" You said, yet not totally shutting down the idea.

"Yes, yes I would. Especially if it's you- I don't know why, but I can actually focus on what you're saying. So, please?"

"..Ok. But if your grade doesn't improve, I don't want to waste my time."

"I'll pay you- I know you're busy."

"I- ok." You agreed to Mattheo's proposal. 'Why am I agreeing to this? Maybe it's because, whether I'd like to admit it or not, he's stupidly charming.' You thought.

The bell rang and Mattheo gathered his things, "I'll see tomorrow?"

"Yea, sounds good." You smiled softly, "Library?"

"Mhm." I waved and walked out of the classroom, leaving you with a blush and a smile that you couldn't wipe of your face.

(pt 2??)

#harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n

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over-particular · 1 year

Text

minimalist self-care habits

One of the biggest misconceptions about taking care of yourself is the systematic and erroneous association of self-care with extreme consumerism. This idea conveys the image of self-care as something reserved to those who can afford it. The truth is, and many already know this, there are countless ways to be good to yourself without spending more than necessary.

☐ Get enough sleep. A child would need 10 to 12 hours of sleep per night. The average is between 7 and 9 hours for an adult. I can never say it enough, but sleep is an important part of our lives. Value it highly. It's an elementary need: not getting enough sleep puts us at risk of developing numerous chronic diseases: such as high blood pressure, diabetes, heart failure, coronary heart disease and some types of cancer. You are also more likely to suffer a stroke.

☐ Turn the volume down. Since I'm riding the wave of how we 21st century people are neglecting our health, I also want to stress the importance of auditory health. If, like me, you love to spend hours with headphones on, consider turning down the volume. I know it's much more enjoyable to experience it fully, but having gone through the terrible experience of tinnitus, I bitterly regret it. There is a simple way to track your auditory health: please check your smartphone's headphone safety features.

☐ Don't neglect your medical appointments. I have always been very anxious about it. Not to the point of pulling my hair out, but I used to postpone my appointment so much that I sometimes forgot why I even wanted to go. There are countless of reasons why we may not like to go to the doctor, but the truth is that health issues simply cannot wait. It is equally important to go see your doctor even if you think you are in perfect condition.

☐ Be physically active. Always keep in mind that your body, like your mind, needs to be stimulated. Besides allowing you to manage your weight more effectively, sport improve your brain health, reduces health risks and strengthens both your muscles and your bones.

☐ Watch your language. It's more personal, but it introduces a sense of discipline into your mind. The turns of phrase, the informal language, the way we speak, the choice of words, the syntax… Speaking is the perfect expression of the mind. This does not mean abolishing the use of crude words, but rather regaining control, becoming master of your language again. Your words should never exceed your thoughts. In my opinion, a rich language reflects the attention the speaker pays to it. When was the last time you learned a new word?

☐ Clean your space. The cleanliness of your living space has a big impact on your productivity. A messy space can lead to a messy mind. Home is, for many of us, the place we feel most comfortable: keeping your living space clean and organized naturally improves the quality of your life, your sleep and your health. Clean regularly, let the sun shine in and air out daily.

☐ Avoid ads. Easier said than done. But try not to have your mind parasitized by the multitude of advertisements we are flooded with. I don't watch television. I do have access to a music platform so I don't have to deal with the constant stream of ads on YouTube.

☐ Go for a walk. Pretending to discover your city or town anew can do wonders for a mind in need of a little distraction. Check out some of the free events that may be happening near you. Visit a park you've never been to before.

☐ Give yourself a reason to wait. Try to establish a ritual of patience. In other words… You stop binge watching every new show you start and you take your time to appreciate it.

☐ Stimulate your mind. The internet has given us more ways than ever to keep our minds busy. For those who know me a little, I am a big fan of reading. And if physical books can indeed be expensive, you can find some really good ones for free in .pdf format. In fact, some kind souls have even gone so far as to share entire drives of them on Tumblr... Going further in my reflection, I think that the scourge of our century is the intellectual lethargy: everything is at our fingertips, why bother reading a whole book when I have access to a detailed summary of only a few pages? Beyond the spiritual enrichment, it is also a proof of patience to seize a book and give it three hours of your time. I sincerely believe that as human beings, we owe it to ourselves to keep our senses and our minds alert. Reading is a great way to exercise our brain as it helps stimulate our cognitive abilities. It allows us to develop our capacity for memorization, reflection, analysis and imagination. Try coloring for adults (yes, it's a thing: ■ ■). There are also many games for adults online with the aim of stimulating memory and improving concentration (■, ■.). Try solving online puzzles, fake criminal investigations, math problems? Learn how to code (with Codecademy for example, which offers many courses for free). Take language courses. Many general knowledge quizzes are also available to anyone who is interested (■) . The web is a real goldmine in terms of resources and many are available for free.

☐ Finally, this list would be meaningless without me asking you to learn to relax. Give yourself a day off if you need to. It is essential to take it easy, to get your nose out of your planning, to look up from your screen and breathe in some fresh air through the window. I advise all those who try to relax to start a digital detox: we must learn to relax independently, without a screen and regain control over the objects of our stimulation.

My lists are intended to be personal. If you find them useful, that's great. Feel free to rewrite them! Don't hesitate to ask questions or send me your comments and ideas for next articles.

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grandtyphoonpoetry · 6 months

Text

"You're a rotten driver," I protested. "Either you ought to be more careful or you oughtn't to drive at all."

"I am careful."

"No, you're not."

"Well other people are," she said lightly.

"What's that got to do with it?"

"They'll keep out of my way," she insisted. "It takes two to make an accident."

"Suppose you met somebody just as careless as yourself."

"I hope I never will," she answered "I hate careless people. That's why I like you."

This conversation takes place somewhere near the middle of the book and the start of Nick and Jordan's relationship. Noting the events of the book, we already know that most everyone in it is quite literally a reckless driver. That being said, Jordan and Nick aren't being entirely literal while having that conversation.

Jordan knows she's a reckless person. She lies, cheats, and is all around dishonest to get what she wants in a system that favors men. She doesn't acknowledge this as a problem as long as she's gaming it right, with the right people (who won't see through her). She gets what she wants, she wins. But she's reckless.

Gatsby has one goal in mind: Daisy will love him. He has an unhealthy obsession with the idea of wealth, prosperity and success that he's attached to Daisy., and thinks of nothing else. He seems generous (and is generous) but not for the sake of others, he's being generous for the sake of his name getting around to his lover, and in the long run he turns out to be only thinking of himself the whole time. Even sacrificing himself for Daisy, only to make her love him the most. One track minds are too preoccupied to be anything but reckless.

Tom clearly doesn't value anyone who surrounds him. Incredibly sexist, racist and unaware of basic human rights or any kind of marital loyalty. I can honestly say that he has almost no redeeming qualities. Thoughtlessly stepping on people in his attempt to be the most intimidating man at the top of every food chain., his way is law to the point of borderline narcissism. Aggressive drivers are reckless.

Daisy is the victim of this circumstance if it's anybody. She had everything handed to her on a silver platter, but she was raised in a way to think she's only worth the equivalent of the men she's surrounded herself with, that she's nothing but a pretty fool, so that is what she'll be. She has to focus only on herself to stay afloat. But fools are reckless too.

And finally Nick, for all his claims to be careful and honest. He manages to get himself involved in and and every kind of shady activity going on without once interjecting that maybe this should not be happening. His idea of himself is being a great judge of character and always truthful, is caught up in the fact that he doesn't do anything to affect the people around him to do better, he just watches them crash and burn around him being naive enough to think it had nothing to do with him. Reckless.

Anyways, all of this to say, The Great Gatsby is a study on the idea of the American dream. But it's also just a book about a bunch of self absorbed people. People too busy to trying to figure out how to manipulate their surroundings, to get what they want out of them, to notice anybody else. Everyone is driving around on their own paths, headlights off, not paying attention to the road, until they collide.

As the book is closing up, after reckless driving has killed more than just one person, Jordan and Nick have one last conversation.

"Oh and do you remember-" she added "-a conversation we had once about driving a car."

"Why,- not exactly."

"You said a bad driver was only safe until she met another bad driver? Well, I met another bad driver, didn't I?"

#the way i love this book #no when i tell you i'm obsessed #the great gatsby #f scott fitzgerald #reckless driving #nick carraway #jay gatsby #tom buchanan #daisy buchanan #jordan baker #roaring 20s

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c-m-stuff · 1 year

Text

Apology

-Description: You and Spencer are married. When you bumped into a certain person, Spencer his past came back.

-Warnings: Angst, fluffiness

-Word count: 961

-Note: A little story for you to enjoy. Love y'all <3

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_________________________

Y/N POV:

My husband and I, were walking through the hallways of the local supermarket. Our shopping cart was already filled with groceries, as we were laughing and talking. Suddenly, Spencer stopped his tracks, while his hand found mine. He squeezed is slightly, and I followed his eyes to a tall, pretty woman. She was looking for some products.

'We need to go. Now.' all the laughter had disappeared, and made room for a more nervous atmosphere.

I could see it was serious. He knew the person, and wanted nothing more than to disappear. With my hand still in his, we began walking towards the exit, as we suddenly heard a voice behind us.

'Spencer? Spencer Reid?' I could softly hear Spencer curse under his breath, as we turned around to see the woman looking at us, with surprise in her eyes.

'Hi Alexa, long time no see.' when I heard that name, it shot me like a bullet. That was the Alexa. The Alexa who was in the plot of tidying him to a goalpost while stripping him naked, all that when he was younger.

When Spencer told me the story after dating him for months, it tore my heart apart. I felt terrible. No wonder, he wanted to go as quick as possible.

'Yeah, it's been awhile. How are you?' she asked the genius, not giving me a glance.

'I'm good, but we have to go now.' he took my hand and dragged me to the checkout.

'Can you please go and pay?' he whispered in my ear, and I could see the tears forming into his eyes. I nodded, and he thanked me, before giving me money and storming off to the car.

I was quick in paying and walking back towards the car. After I dropped the groceries in the trunk, I immediately took place, and hugged Spencer as good as I could. He was crying silently, muffled sobs shocking through his body. His past all came back.

'I'm so sorry, love. You absolutely didn't deserve all of that. I know, seeing her brought some old memories back, and it's okay to feel this way. What about, we go home, and cuddle up on the couch?' he nodded, while wiping his tears away. His eyes were red and puffy, as he shot me a weak smile. But, I noticed, he was grateful for my response, wanting nothing more than to go home.

He placed his hand on the car key, as I stopped him.

'What do you think you're doing?' I asked him, my hand now on his.

'Driving home, so we can cuddle?' his voice was still cracking, and it broke my heart some more.

'No, no, I'm not letting you drive in this state. Let me drive.' he opened his mouth to discuss, but quickly closed it again, agreeing with my words. We switched seat, and drove off soon after.

_________________________

We were cuddled up on the couch, a movie playing in the background. Neither of us paid attention to the screen, as we were busy with comforting each other. We both were drifting off to sleep, as a sudden knock made us awake. I groaned, while getting up and stumbling my way towards the door.

As I opened it, my face went from surprise to madness. It was Alexa.

'Don't you think, you hurt Spencer enough?' without thinking, I said straight what was on my mind, my angry state clearly visible.

'I'm sorry, and who are you?' she asked, a bit pissed.

'His wife.' I simply answered, and by that she backed off. I could see the surprise and the little bit of shame in her expression.

'It's okay, (Y/N).' I turned around to face my husband, while Alexa took the opportunity to walk in.

'Hey Spencer, seeing you back in that store, brought some memories back. And, I wanted to apologize for what I did when I was younger. You don't need to forgive me, but I thought, better late than never. I'm really sorry.'

From everything she could have said, this was something I didn't excepted. But, I am glad she did. This was the apology, Spencer deserved.

'Thank you, Alexa. I appreciate it.' they gave each other small smiles, before the girl walked towards him, and wrapped her arms around his body. Spencer hugged uncomfortable back, shooting me a nervous look.

'Well, I better get going. Thank you, Spencer. And, thank you...-'

'(Y/N).' I added, smiling politely.

'Thank you, (Y/N).' I walked her back towards the door, saying our final goodbyes, before closing the door with a sigh.

'Are you okay?' I carefully asked, while walking into my husband's arms.

'I'm okay.' he hugged me tightly, his head resting on my shoulder.

'I'm-Im just really surprised, she apologized. I didn't saw that coming at all. But, I appreciate it.' he stated, causing me to nod in agreement.

'Yeah, I understand. And, you absolutely deserved that apology.'

'Thank you, love.'

We stayed in the comfortable silence for a while, as I decided to brighten up the mood a little.

'Did you saw her face when she found out that I'm your wife?' he chuckled amused, both imagining the face she made.

'Yeah, that was really funny.'

'Well, why don't my wife and I cuddle up on the couch?' he asked, putting his attention to the word "wife".

'I love being your wife. And, I love that idea as well.'

'And, I love being your husband.'

'Forever and always?'

'Forever and always.'

#criminal minds #cm #fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x yn #fluff imagine #angst imagine

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ellissay-morningstar · 5 months

Text

DWC November 2023, Day 2,Success/Sin

Ellissay looked at the bottom of the once more empty glass. She wasn't drunk, but she could feel the effects of the alcohol as it made its way through her system. She rocked the glass back and forth in her hand as if more drink would magically appear if she stared at it long enough.

Finally, she sat the glass down and waved to the bartender, who raised an eyebrow at her, a woman drinking alone on a weeknight. But she didn't owe him or anyone else an explanation. It wasn't like she would pour out her soul to some random stranger who could probably care less.

Despite his seeming trepidation, the man made his way over and poured her more of the snowplum brandy. She swirled the liquid in the glass a few times, watching it spin, which ultimately made her a bit light-headed. Finally, she swallowed the brandy and sat the glass down before turning on her barstool to take in her surroundings.

Not much in the way of a crowd tonight. After all, it was a Monday evening, and most were probably home with their loved ones. She smirked to herself. She would be home, too, if she had a home. Instead, here she was at some dive working a case cause she had to somehow put food on the table and pay the rent for wherever her next job took her.

She heard the scrape of the door opening, and her eyes flickered to the guy who had walked into the room. She didn't have to be told that this was her target. Curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and a smile that wouldn't quit had been the description she had been given. They weren't lying. He swaggered in like he owned the place because, from her understanding, he did.

Also, from her understanding, he was using the joint as a front for something nefarious. If her intel was on point. He had become infamous in underground circles known as the heartbreaker. Though he seemed good at keeping his head down and hands clean. SI:7 hadn't found a stitch of evidence on him or his operation in the months they had been tracking him. The only reason she had put two and two together was that she knew a guy who knew a guy. But isn't that how it always goes? And hellfire, she could always be wrong.

She slips off the barstool, moves forward as if she doesn't see the man, and bumps straight into him. He seems for a moment that he will yell at her until his eyes graze over her features, and she sees them soften. "You alright?" he says instead of whatever harsh words had almost come out of his mouth.

Pretending to have slipped, she had grabbed his wrist, her nails biting into the skin, though he seemed not to notice. Ellissay pulled back, and for a moment, his eyes caught hers, and damn it, but she felt herself stare back. Immediately, she broke the stare, genuine heat coming to her cheeks. "My apologies. I should watch where I am going or perhaps have a little less to drink on an empty stomach." She lets herself chuckle slightly.

She straightens herself up, and her hands slip from his wrist, and his lips curl into a grin as if she were a canary and he was a cat. She might have enjoyed the attention any other time, but not tonight. Tonight, she had business to take care of. She composed herself and once more apologized, trying her best to play coy, which, truth be told, wasn't her strong suit. Thankfully, he seemed to be in a hurry and didn't seem to notice.

She realizes he is speaking to her. "You sure you are okay, miss? Can I call a taxi service for you?" Ellissay shakes her head and tells the man it won't be necessary, and he nods and bids her good evening. He is gone, disappearing down the stairs. Which is just as well. The poison from her nails would take hold in about five to ten minutes. The plan was to ensure he was in his office when it took effect and passed out.

She turns toward the bartender and feigns a bit of embarrassment. "Your restroom, please." He points downstairs and to the left. And just like that, she has a reason for going downstairs.

She makes her way down into the dimly lit hallway, but instead of turning left, she makes her way right, following a sliver of light shining from beneath a closed door. She takes a deep breath, calculates how much time has passed doing the mental math, and takes several deep breaths before she pushes the door open, hoping it is the right room.

And there he is, passed out in the big chair behind a rather large desk covered in papers. Ellissay rushes over to the desk and scans the documents. She wouldn't have much time. Either he would wake, or the bartender would get suspicious if she didn't return. She pulls a small camera from a bag at her side and starts taking picture after picture. She would have to review the documents later to see if any were useful.

He stirred, and she knew she was running out of time. For a moment, she feels guilty about drugging a man who may or may not be innocent of any wrongdoing. But she had at least succeeded in tonight's plan. Perhaps tonight would prove him innocent, or maybe it would condemn him of the sins he had committed. Either way, her job was done.

@daily-writing-challenge

#novemberdwc2023 #novemberday22023 #ellissay-morningstar #success #sin #writing

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bisexual-horror-fan · 2 years

Note

hey bex!! <3 i was just wondering if you were still taking requests for the love letters? if not that's okay too, i don't want to swamp you with anything if you're too busy! (but if you can (and want to) could i please request one? it can be from anyone you'd feel like! I'm not sure who would write one to me i feel like you'd know best!!) thank you so much either way! 💐💕

Oooo so glad you trusted me with this! I decided to go with Ghostface, Danny Johnson from Dead By Daylight in particular and hope you dig this SFW stalkerish love letter.

---

To my dearest newest obsession.

How are you? I like to think I know but there is only so much assumption and fantasising a man can do while stalking before getting curious about what’ actually rolling around in that head of yours.

I’ve been watching you for a long while now. Oh how long is a while? Ahhh who keeps track?

Other than me. Very extensively in the journal I’ve started keeping just for you of course. You are that special. I’ve learnt your schedule and have been paying such close and personalised attention.

Have you noticed?

The few little things around your place that have gone missing that I’ve taken as personal mementos. Or the small things I do to make your life a bit easier? It’s not like I am doing them for the recognition but you have to admit that it’s really nice to feel needed.

And even if you haven’t woken up to that fact yet you do need me. Desperately.

But don’t worry, I will make sure that you are painfully aware of it all too soon. I’ve decided that you are ready to meet me.

I know, try to contain your excitement but it’s true! I was thinking your place, under the cover of night, saw your meal plan and what you were initially gonna make for dinner is just fine for me.

See you soon sweetheart.

Love, Ghostface.

#samwise babeyy #BHF asks #BHF writing #BHF Love Letter #Danny Johnson X Reader #DBD Ghostface X Reader #slasher x reader

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longeyelashedtragedy · 1 month

Text

tag ppl you want to know better game - tagged by @heffer-wen many many days ago! (i had so much fun reading your answers!)

last song: "shrike" by hozier. i liked this song fine when the album first came out, but 5 years later all of a sudden it's everything my brain needs to hear. something about how his voice sounds when it gets Loud--it's just filling all the spaces that are empty and expanding my lungs and i can breathe. yknow?

currently watching: nothing, sincerely. i've got a pandemic era frank interview queued up, but that requires actually staring at a video and paying attention, and i'm not very good at that. i mean i guess i've poked around a couple old youtube videos that are too incriminating to discuss. but!

in seriousness...i'm trash at watching anything most of the time. tv/movies were on a near-total ban in my house as a kid and i think i'm a product of this parenting choice (recommend!)

three ships: frank x mason, big gabi x willo, XHAKARTETA. hard to pick a favorite frank ship though...that could go in a lot of directions.

favorite color: Heff did i see hot pink and black? YES! my favorite colors are pink and black. runners-up: red and purple, though some reds and purples are better than others.

first ship: gosh...honestly, i think it was McLennon, hahah. that was the first ship i realized was a ship, though, because my friend introduced me to ff.n via that ship the summer after 8th grade. before that, i was informally shipping katarina witt with a whole bunch of people myself included. but yes, John & Paul. i didn't really have headcanons or anything though, i just read some stuff. the first ship where i was like I SHIP IT and went to read fanfic on LJ for it was *sigh* bellatrix/narcissa from harry potter. say what we will about JKR now, and i'm sure we all have, but some of the fanfic on livejournal went HARD. as a mere teenager, i was in awe of the adults writing all this stuff, and felt so privileged to lurk amongst them and occasionally comment. Would that fandoms were still like this!!!

place of birth: new york, ny in a hospital that's about to close. i was six days late because i was destined to be a sag and not a scorpio. i knew even then!

current location: just across the river and a little bit southeast.

relationship status: hardcore in my aromantic era. i used to be obsessed with love and having a special person and all that, but i don't know...the idea of having to have someone up in my business, entitled to knowledge about me, sharing a space with me all the time...it all just feels like a big NO these days. it actively makes my skin feel crawly. of course, life is designed for you to have a partner which is pretty frustrating. sincerely i'd rather just have a bunch of loving and interesting friends who all live near me. now, am i down for a hookup? sure, but the only part of me worth seeing is my head, so we move!

last movie: "encounter in the air," it's a movie directed by this albanian director whose stuff i love. he doesn't use music in his films, and films on location in/near his hometown in northern albania, and the...soundscape? is so rich and bountiful and gorgeous. you don't realize how noisy movies are till you watch one of these. (this was one of the very rare times when i watch something)

currently working on: reading my way through my library book pile, decluttering my leggings shelf, thinking of how i want to structure a potential fic about a ~75 year-old man having a drunk fuck with his son's wife (with motivations currently unknown to me--and what tone it should have? not my usual pedestrian tone, but how to do it differently? i do have some interesting sentences written down in the draft. i like the sight and then the memory of wet footprints on the hallway floor & mud from the football pitch and carelessly worn boots tracked through the house). also how i'd write some frank/anthony gordon england NT callup dubcon phone sex. now that was a whole serving of word salad. shit, imagine if i was writing TAA/szoboszlai or pedri/gavi.

tagging: @thatbrightblueshine @kvaradonaa @protect-daniel-james @medicalwastebouquet @thundercrack (answer on whichever of your blogs hahaha) and i KNOW i'm leaving people out so...YOU. if you want!!!! no pressure at all.

#about me #thank you heffer-wen!#i might reblog this in the morning idkkk

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thatfreshi · 1 year

Text

I Would Want You to Go With Me (Markiplier x reader)

This is about double the length of my other pieces. More of a fluffy slow burn. Had a lot of fun with this one!

(Suggested song: 400 Lux - Lorde)

You hang up the phone and fall back onto the couch. That was Ethan on the line, telling you that your road trip had to be postponed. You were excited to get away for a while, and now it would have to wait til next week. Work has been a little bit of a drag, and you really need a break. Funnily enough, you and Mark have an “editing hangout” scheduled, where you literally sit in your living room and edit and give each other shit when you get off track. Between his ADHD and your lack of motivation, it’s an efficient yet fun arrangement. Before you could finish thinking about how you really don’t want to do any extra work, your front door opens.

“Well y/n, I have bad news and bad news.”

You sit up on the couch.

“Is it worse than Ethan canceling our trip?”

“Uhm, I don’t think so? First of all, your trash can is knocked over, and it is 100% not because I parked really bad today.”

“Markkkk, if you’re gonna come over here so we can both work better, can you please not add more to my plate? Now I have to go pick up the trash and edit two pretty lengthy videos.”

“You know what? Fair. I will go fix it, but before that, second round of bad news: I brought the wrong drive with me, which means I actually have nothing to edit!”

You put your head in your hands and sigh.

“So you get to sit here and torment me while I work? Great, wonderful.”

Or course you’re being sarcastic, but some of it is true. After all, you do have a lot to do, and you were really looking forward to that trip.

“Nooo, it’ll be fun! I’ll sit here and talk non-stop while you hopefully get something done and it’ll all be fine! But first, I am going to pick up your trash can before I forget.”

You lay back down as the door closes again and sigh. Again. At least he’s here, and you’ll have some ounce of support to get you through the monotonous work. Besides, you like when he comes over. He usually stays the night since you guys live quite a ways away from each other. California is a big state after all. You and Mark end up ordering in some food and playing some mind-numbing game on your TV until you both pass out on the couch. Is it a little childish? Yes. Do you both plan on stopping anytime soon? Not a chance.

“Alright, trash can is back in position M’lady. Now, you have work to do.”

You groan in the most dramatic way possible.

“But do I haveeeee tooooo?”

“I mean, I did come down here for us to work, and I can’t do any, which by my math means you have to do enough work for the both of us.”

Then, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

“Well, you do still have your laptop in your bag right?”

“Yeah, of course I do.”

“So, by my math, if I have two videos to edit and there are two of us and we have two laptops… it seems like I should just send you my other video, and you can edit it for me.”

“You know what? That’s fair. Alright, give me what you got.”

You both edit and talk for a couple of hours, shooting the shit and somehow paying attention to each other through the two extra yous talking. Eventually, you get back on the subject of the road trip.

“Yeah, I’m honestly pretty bummed. Like sure, editing is fun and all, and I love running my own channel, but god damn, I need a break.”

Mark looks away from his screen and thinks for a moment.

“Well, I mean, I know you wanted to go with Ethan, but if he’s busy, I don’t know, we could go on a trip tomorrow. I already packed overnight stuff, and you don’t have to cancel with Ethan obviously, but what’s the harm in two vacations?”

You close your laptop, having just finished your video. You didn’t tell Mark, but you gave him the longer recording to go through.

“I don’t know. I’m worried I’ll end up taking too much time off and get out of my groove or something.”

“Well, no offense y/n, but you’ve kinda been out of your groove for a while. Maybe you need something spontaneous to jump your system, ya know?”

You throw one of the decorative pillows at him.

“First of all, that was fully offensive. Second of all… you’re sadly probably right.”

“Why am I ‘sadly probably right?’”

“Because anytime you’re right is a sad time.”

He chucks the pillow back at you.

“Yeah, okay, I deserve that.”

You two laugh at the exchange for a little before Mark returns to wrap up his edit. When he’s finally finished, you order some pizza and start to put together a game plan for what you two are now calling ‘The Most Awesome Epic Overnight Sleepover to Road Trip of Spectacularness Ever,’ or MAEOSRTSE for short. You don’t refer to it by its full name or abbreviation for very long.

“So, what is the plan for this amazing road trip that’s only now amazing because I’m a part of it?”

You scoff.

“Well, I was just kinda planning to hit all the big Cali cities? I haven’t lived here too long and I wanted to explore. Like honestly I think the only times I’ve been to LA are to visit you or Ethan. I’m surprised you and Ethan didn’t talk about it at all.”

“I mean, I didn’t wanna pry or anything.”

You cock your head at him.

“Why would you be prying?”

“Well, I just kinda figured it wasn’t exactly… a friendly trip.”

“Woah, I’m not like mad at Ethan or anything. Do you think I’m gonna murder him in SoCal?!”

“I mean I don’t know. You’re probably capable of it.”

“No but really, what do you mean?”

“I just thought maybe you were gonna make things with him more than friends, that’s all.”

“WOAH, no way. Ethan and I have been friends for like, a million years. He’s basically my brother at this point, gross.”

You could’ve sworn you heard a sign of relief, but perhaps not. You’ve only known Mark for the year or so you’ve lived here. Ethan was actually the one who introduced you, and he actually thought that you would hit it off. You’ve become really good friends, but you didn’t ever think it would go beyond that. Sure, he’s amazing and pretty and his smile makes you blush sometimes, but you wouldn’t want to ruin anything you two already had just to see if maybe you could date. Just as you start to ponder what that could look like, the pizza arrives. Luckily you live pretty close to a Domino’s.

“I’ll get it.”

Mark hops off the couch and grabs your pizzas from the delivery guy, tipping him generously in the process. He brings the cheesy delights back to the coffee table and makes his way into your kitchen to get some paper towels.

“So, are you into anyone? Because I always kind of assumed you and Ethan had this like on again off again thing goin on.”

“Agasp! Is Mark Fischbach trying to gossip with me right now?!”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say gossip. Am I not allowed to ask questions?”

“I guess you can just ask things without it being scandalous. No, I’m not particularly interested in anyone, but I wouldn’t be opposed to like a date or anything romantic. I guess I’ve just been too busy to look into anything like that right now.”

“Well, I’m sure it’ll come at just the right time.”

He smiles as he gives you a share of paper towels.

“So, this California trip. You just want to hit the big cities? Do you want to do anything specific?

“Not really. Honestly I just want to drive and see where the wind takes us, see what’s out there.”

“I can work with that.”

The both of you binge on pizza for a while and play some Mario Party, cursing each other out whenever you put each other behind on the board. After a while, you go into bread-based delirium and only half pay attention to each round. Eventually, your blinks get longer and longer, and you fall into the soft embrace of the couch. However, when Mark wakes you up soon after, you realize it was not the couch, but was actually him.

“I’m sorry y/n. I didn’t want to wake you, but I had to get up and I didn’t want to startle you or anything. I was just going to put everything away.”

You sit up slowly, trying to get your brain working again.

“What? No, you don’t have to do that, just leave it out it’s fine.”

“Y/n, I always put everything away after you fall asleep.”

“Really? That’s so nice. Thanks Mark.”

You hug him in your sleepless daze, not really thinking about it. He wraps his arm around you for a moment, before realizing he probably shouldn’t linger.

“Well, I’m gonna clean, and you can get back to bed, okay?”

“Mm, okay.”

He slowly unwraps you from his side, and before you know it, you’re waking up to a clean table and the smell of pizza and soda eradicated.

It’s 9, maybe 10 am. Mark is huddled into the corner of the couch, asleep, basically giving you the rest. You try to remember what happened before you fell asleep, but it’s hopeless. You two stay up far too late for your brain to process anything most nights. In fact, you only woke up due to some piece of shit revving their engine outside.

Now that you’re up, you decide to go freshen up, maybe change clothes. And besides, you do have to start packing for this trip. You feel a little guilty for not telling Ethan, but for whatever reason, you jumped at the opportunity when Mark offered to go in his stead. Over the past year, the two of you had become really good friends. Sure, you’ve known Ethan forever, but your friendship with him was nothing like this. These nights spent together with Mark, they were probably your favorite parts of the month. It was easy being around him. You didn’t have to try, you didn’t have to filter yourself, you could just, be.

After a shower and a quick change, you come back to the common space, where Mark was now awake, sleepily scrolling through Twitter, cozied up in your throw blanket. He often complains about his bad morning social media habits, but he doesn’t seem like he’s going to stop anytime soon.

“Good morning Mark. You want something to eat? I have eggs, cheese… more eggs…”

You then realize the only thing you can really make is an omelet.

“Okay, so unless you want to just eat cheese, it’s looking like it’s gonna be something, uh, eggy.”

He stretches out on the couch, trying to get a hold of his surroundings. He’s not particularly a morning person, at least not right after he wakes up.

“Yeah, eggs, sounds good.”

He stumbles off to your bathroom. You hear the shower running again as you begin getting out your frying pan and cracking eggs. The kitchen fills with the pleasant scent of butter and pepper, and for a moment, you think about how peaceful everything is. You think about how you could live like this forever. You don’t even particularly know what that means.

“Your water pressure still sucks you know.”

You almost jump at his voice, as you were thoroughly lost in thought.

“Okay, and I don’t exactly have the money or the time to fix that, now do I? Unless you’re offering to fix it, I wouldn’t complain.”

He playfully rolls his eyes and opens your fridge, grabbing for the orange juice. Right around then, the omelets are done.

“Do you seriously have pulp orange juice in here? Jesus Christ, this is SO MUCH PULP.”

You can’t help but laugh so loud that your entire neighborhood probably heard it.

“Mark, are you seriously gonna be a baby about some orange, in your orange juice?”

“I just don’t get why you need MORE orange in it, like it’s already so much orange!”

“Okay well if it’s that upsetting, why don’t you just strain it or something.”

And that’s exactly what he does, almost pouring all of your OJ down the sink in the process. Once that catastrophe is avoided, you two go back to the couch and eat your cheesy eggs. After finishing up breakfast and finalizing your road trip plans, Mark realizes he has almost nothing past spending the night. The both of you pack, and you end up finding some hoodies of yours that fit him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try this another time? I know it can be a little stressful if you’re not fully prepared for something.”

“Oh, trust me, I may not be very prepared in reality, but in this ol noggin up here? Extremely prepared. So prepared that it’s literally in my bloodstream.”

You aren’t sure what’s gotten into him. Mark is usually more of a homebody, even more than you are, and yet he’s so ready to go across the state with you.

“Besides, I asked the dog sitter to work a couple extra days, and I have uploads scheduled for a little bit. It’ll be fine y/n. I want to do this with you.”

With that, you both are finished packing, unsure of exactly how long you’ll be gone for. Luckily your jobs both give you a lot of flexibility, and you don’t have anything at home that needs attending to, other than your water pressure apparently.

Soon enough, you’re on the road. You decided to take your car, as it has more storage space, but Mark insists on driving. You get into a fake argument over the trash incident from the night before, but he claims that parking is his only issue, not the actual driving part. You decide to trust him for whatever reason.

The first stop is LA. It’s been a while since you’ve gone, as Mark usually ends up going to your place instead of vice versa. It’s around two hours away since you live closer to Bakersfield. Some could argue that your California trip isn’t very genuine, but Northern California is about as boring as watching paint dry. At least, that’s what Mark says. Instead, you decide to trek to every major city in SoCal.

The next two hours are spent playing improv games in the car, and Mark getting mad every time you don’t follow the “Yes, and” rule. It’s not your fault that you didn’t do theatre in high school. After a while, you run out of scene ideas, and you begin just staring at the desert out the window.

“You alright y/n?”

“Yeah, just taking it all in, being in the moment.”

Mark isn’t much for music in the car, but he does hum to himself, either things he’s heard previously or little tunes he’s made up in his head. It’s nice, melodic, the perfect thing to add to the peace that you feel in this moment. Sometimes he hums something familiar, and the both of you buzz along together, until eventually he swaps to something you’ve either forgotten or never known. You love this, the fact that you and Mark don’t have to talk all the time, that it can be quiet and calm, and you can still enjoy each other’s presence. However, the moment does indeed pass, as you’re almost to LA.

“So, anything in particular you want to do? Or is this more of a dealer’s choice thing?”

“I mean, you’re the one who lives here, so yeah, show me around.”

The rest of the day is spent going to all the little nooks and crannies that he knows exist in the city. Small antique stores, hidden coffee shops, tiny parks full of birds singing. At one point, you think one of them tweets a little song Mark was humming earlier, but it was probably only your imagination. By the time it’s dark, you’re at an ice cream parlor, and he makes fun of you for picking rocky road.

“I just don’t understand why people need their food to be so, complicated. Me? Vanilla, all the way.”

“So you don’t want two flavors at once? Like you don’t mix your stuffing and mashed potatoes together at Thanksgiving?”

“Oh god, no! No way! That would ruin the sanctity of the meal.”

It’s late enough that you’re the only two there. In fact, the employees are cleaning up as you speak. Mark assured them that you wouldn’t take too long while you paid. One of the workers smiles at the two of you bickering before going back to closing up for the night.

“We should probably get back to the car.”

He nods, and you both take your ice cream with you, thanking the parlor workers as you leave. Usually it would still be bustling at this time of night, but he took you to a small offshoot where people weren’t up crazy late, and the squirrels still roamed the streets. When you get back in the car, the two of you sit there for a while, trying to decide where to stay for the night.

“Well, we could go to your place, but I wouldn’t want to disrupt the dog-sitter.”

“Maybe we should just camp out tonight. There’s lots of beautiful desert around here.”

You decide to trust him, despite the idea of camping out in the middle of nowhere making you extremely nervous. After all, you do trust him. He’d never lead you astray, at least on purpose. He starts the car, and it takes about another hour to get back into the middle of nowhere. Mark hasn’t used GPS all day, and he claims that he just knows where he’s going most of the time. It was clear that he knew where he was going now as it got darker out and the buildings became sparser.

Eventually, he pulls off the road and into a vast expanse of desert. It’s a lot brighter than you thought it would be. The stars, speckled across the sea of space above you. When he eventually stops, the both of you open the back of your car and set up for the night, laying out blankets and a small lantern you packed away at the last minute.

“I’m happy you took me out here.”

You two don’t usually get very sentimental. Everything about your friendship is fun and games.

“How come?”

He eyes you with thoughtfulness.

“I… I really needed the break. It’s been a lot of fun.”

There’s a drizzle of honey in your tone.

“Well don’t get all sappy yet. We still have a couple days.”

You don’t know why you’re feeling so emotional about all of this. Of course, you’re excited to have more of the trip left to go, but today has been perfect. Fully, genuinely, perfect. When you’re thinking back, you remember last night, how you fell asleep on Mark’s shoulder, how he always cleans up when you fall asleep.

“You don’t have to do that y’know.”

He looks confused by your sudden shift.

“Do what?”

“Clean up after our sleepovers. I just remembered.”

“You know, I’ve told you that multiple times, and you usually forget. I really don’t mind.”

“Yeah, but I’m the host. It just feels rude that I let you do it all.”

“You don’t let me do anything. You didn’t even know, and besides, again, I really don’t mind. Promise.”

You hold out your pinky, and he locks into it with his own. You smile, getting up to get a better look at the stars. He watches you for a moment before going to join you. Before you know it, you’re lying on the desert sand, looking for any of the constellations you remember from school.

“Have I ever told you how much I like space?”

You roll over to look at him.

“I mean, I’ve heard plenty about it, but you haven’t told me yourself.”

“Would you go? If you had the chance?”

“To space? I don’t know. Depends on if it was safe I guess.”

“Well, if I had the chance, I would want you to go with me.”

He turns to meet your gaze.

“And I would tell you everything I know about the stars. Hell, I’d probably name a star after you.”

You blush a little, surprised by his sudden loving tone.

“In that case, I would go with you.”

You lock together yet another pinky promise, your hands lingering moments too long, eventually interlocking your fingers.

“Mark, I-”

He kisses you before you can finish your sentence. You kiss him back. You both know what you would’ve said anyways. When your lips finally break free, you’re both smiling, giggling like you did in your youth. That night, you cuddle up in the back of your car, dealing with the cold that the desert brings. It’s okay though, you don’t mind. Nothing could ruin this. Nothing could ruin how oblivious you’ve been to what’s clearly been here all along. Nothing could ruin this spectacular realization you’ve had today.

“I guess I’ll have to come over more, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so. And now every night can be editing night.”

The blanket of the stars brought you together that night, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#slow burn #fluff #markiplier #markiplier x reader

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