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#improvised vehicle
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Early MB Jeep armed with a M2HB Browning and a BAR
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Tank man! I, uh... help!
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Improvised armored vehicle, Ukrainian IFV, 2024.
This is an improvised vehicle made from an uparmored TDT-55 tractor, mounted with an AZP S-60 57mm gun for use in the War in Ukraine.
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redarmyscreaming · 3 months
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Vehículo blindado de la Guerra Civil Española.
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papa-squat-89 · 2 months
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Syrian/Iraqi improvised tanks
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kylekozmikdeluxo · 5 months
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Doing my own drawing challenge for October… which I stopped and then continued now. In November.
31 days, 31 weird little things 
#18-20: elephant head machine, whatever the hell that is, bug eyed car
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angelisverba · 9 months
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achilles heel
in which y/n gets herself into another precarious situation and wants her dealer to help her, and harry can’t help but feel conflicted about how much he wants her
read part one here
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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. 
2K notes · View notes
oakparchment · 5 months
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Itzy's Sex Toys
Yeji, Lia, Ryujin, Chaeryeong, Yuna
Length: 2325 words
Tags: masturbation, (improvised) sex toys, voyeurism, cum sharing, cum lube
Summary: Ever wondered how Itzy gets themselves off?
AO3
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A/N: Here's some fantasy fuel for how each Itzy member masturbates (it gets real slutty at the end) featuring the non-conventional objects they had to make do with as sex toys before, the actual sex toys they own now, and the toy that they're looking at buying next.
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Yeji
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Yeji getting her driver's license led to more than just being able to drive. This definitely doesn't work in every vehicle, but the handbrake in Yeji's car was just a simple, long and straight lever that when the car was in park, angled almost straight up. There was enough room at the front console that she could push the seats back, slot herself over the handbrake, and start riding to her heart's content. It was unconventional for sure, and not always practical, but at least the car had tinted windows.
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Yeji was the group's trailblazer when it came to sex. Not only was she the first to buy a sex toy, but she went all out on the first purchase. When the order came through, she couldn't contain her excitement and ran to her room to test it out. It was a male torso sex doll, spanning from the neck down to the cock and balls. No longer would she be confined to the inside of a car whenever she wanted to ride something long and hard. During one late night talk, Yeji and Ryujin had shared some of their fantasies with each other. The repercussions of that conversation led to Yeji sometimes pretending the sex doll beneath her was Ryujin, as she bounced up and down on its hard rod (more of that fantasy later...)
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Yeji is looking at buying a fuck machine next. With both the handbrake and sex doll she has to do all the work herself, but wants to have a go at lying down on her hands and knees, turning the machine on, and just getting absolutely railed from behind. She's gonna have to find more storage space...
Lia
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Lia often took the longest showers. She would of course do the usual: wash her hair, soap herself up, shave, and get clean. But then she would also get dirty. Their bathroom showerhead was detachable, which Lia would hold against her pussy. The hot water jetting over her clit was the perfect amount of pressure. Not wanting anyone to have to wait around, thoughtful Lia would try to limit her shower sessions to when no one else had to use the bathroom after her.
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Lia eventually wanted to add more to her shower sessions, and made a very pragmatic decision to buy a suction cup dildo. She could now attach the dildo to the shower wall and fuck herself on it, whilst still holding the showerhead over her clit. This revolutionised showers for Lia, causing her to take multiple showers in a day if there was the opportunity to do so. From an outsider's perspective, she seemed shy about sex, but the thought of someone walking in on her getting off secretly turned her on, and for that reason she never locked the bathroom door when she showered (or the bedroom door when she stuck the dildo to her mirror). One time she forgot to take the dildo off the shower wall, and Yuna discovered it. But that's a story for another time.
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She's interested in buying a simple clit vibrator. One that she can hold against her sensitive bud whilst fucking her dildo, but she also wouldn't be tethered to the shower this way. She basically sees it as a direct upgrade from the showerhead.
Ryujin
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Ryujin sleeps with a pillow between her legs. Silk sheets, pyjama shorts and no panties, cause she humps her pillow to get off. If she bundles up the pillow just right, her wetness against the silk pillow case creates an amazing texture that’s both smooth yet has just the right friction against her pussy lips and clit. She’s gotten real good at humping and grinding her hips after all that pillow fucking. This did lead to Ryujin having an excessive amount of pillows in her room, allowing her to have a pillow to fuck and still have a fresh one to sleep on that didn't have her cum all over it (without having to wash her sheets every few days). One night when Chaeryeong was sleeping over in her room, she wondered why Ryujin needed so many pillows. Her curiosity was answered upon seeing a familiar patch running down the middle of one of them. Much to Ryujin's embarassment, Chaeryeong specifically chose to sleep on that pillow for the night.
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Ryujin wants to fuck. Like literally. She bought a strap-on dildo because she’s obsessed with the idea of having a thick cock and just absolutely railing people with it. So much so that she practices fucking her pillow with it, pretending it’s one of her group members. Ryujin will give the dildo head before putting it on, practicing her blowjob skills and getting it all slicked up for her pretend partner (for now). Then she’ll get rough with it, slapping her fake cock and watching it sway, then jerking it off with a vice-like grip.
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Whilst she humps her pillows and jerks off her fake cock, she watches porn, and has been on the kinkier side of it lately. She finds herself continually returning to videos of sex swings. Ryujin thinks about how hard and fast she could fuck someone’s guts out with the assistance of a swing. This is going on her wish list for sure.
Chaeryeong
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Chaeryeong genuinely did use her face roller to massage her face... at the start. The phallic look of it did always get her thinking and one day her depraved thoughts got the better of her and she used it to massage other places. She would clutch onto the roller balls to angle the shaft inside of her, pumping in and out of her pussy and oh.. my.. god.. did it make her feel good. 
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Whilst the face roller got her off, it didn't hit deep the way she wanted it to (Chaeryeong's vaginal canal goes deep), so she started browsing around for actual toys. All the pretty colours and shapes of bad dragon dildos really drew her attention (and yes, the massive size too) and settled on a few that she particularly liked. The first time she used one was a very slow process, involving lots of lube and very slow penetration. Even now, her wank sessions take a bit to start off. But once her pussy adjusts to the size, it hits her in crevices that she didn't even know she had. She likes to kneel in front of her mirror with the base of the dildo on the floor just in front of her, holding the length of it up against her abs to visualise just how far it goes inside of her. Bad dragon dildos for a bad girl...
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The monstrous dildos do a very sufficient job of filling up her pussy, but Chaeryeong wants to be double stuffed and have things up her juicy ass too. She can’t get over how cute fluffy cat tail anal plugs look, and wants to have one (or two, or three) for her growing collection.
Yuna
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One morning when they were getting ready for their schedule, Yuna and Ryujin were standing by the bathroom vanity, when Yuna's electric toothbrush was cutting in and out of power. The older girl made a sly comment about it. "Is the battery faulty? You only just charged it yesterday..." Yuna brushed off her remark whilst blushing, telling her Unnie to shush. They both knew the real reason. Yuna would brush her teeth with her electric toothbrush, feeling it vibrate in her hand, and one day her intrusive thoughts took over. Bzzzzzzttt it went, vibrating against her lips, though it wasn't in her mouth...
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If she was attached to her toothbrush before, she was now straight up obsessed with her rabbit vibrator. Where the toothbrush was thin, her rabbit was thick. Where the toothbrush was a gentle buzz, her rabbit vibrated hard. And where the toothbrush had her rubbing her clit with her free hand, the rabbit ears did that for her. This thing turned Yuna into a crazed little cum machine and she may or may not be addicted to jilling off with it.
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Yuna couldn't imagine a better toy at getting her tight little pussy off, so she’s opted for branching out to accessories that stimulates and turns her on instead. A ball gag, to help shut herself up so that her roommates don’t have to hear her fucking her rabbit for the 4th time in a day (hint, they can still hear her, and it turns them on just as much as it annoys them for being such a distraction). And nipple clamps, so that she can have her nipples pinched hands free.
All In Us!
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This one is shared. Nobody explicity says it out loud but they all get off harder at the thought of sharing a toy; the material being glass has the added benefits of temperature retention and being easy to clean and take care of. If there’s one toy that always gets brought whilst travelling, it’s this one. It started off as them all passing around a hairbrush (which was tooootally only used to brush their hair) but Yeji thought it was starting to get ridiculous that they were using the handle of a hairbrush in this manner so she went and ordered them a glass dildo. When the girls are feeling particularly nasty there are days that the dildo gets shared around without cleaning it between uses. Cream and cum flows freely on the glass; getting passed around like a slut, accumulating everyone’s wetness and dirty fantasies.
To start off, Yeji had just driven home and was parked outside. She had been waiting to fuck herself all day and finally had the chance to. Pulling the glass dildo out of her bag, she slicks it up with her mouth, getting it coated with spit and ready for her pussy. Getting on top for a ride, she knows how to angle it just right so that the glass hits her g-spot with every buck of her hips, leaving a squirty mess over her car seat by the time she’s done. She wipes up after herself and heads inside, walking away from the fogged up windows of her car.
Lia welcomes her home and watches her place the wet glass dildo on the front door table, as if it were a mundane item like house keys or a letter. And that’s how the sharing starts. Lia retrieves the toy for herself, and is already a little wet by the time she reaches the bathroom. With her face pressed against the vanity, she uses one hand to fuck herself from behind, and the other to rub her clit, all to the mental image she has conjured up of Yeji’s squirty mess. Lia's angelic moans bounce off the bathroom tiles to the beat of her bent over railing. Once she’s done, she leaves the glass toy on the counter top.
Ryujin knows what Lia gets up to in the bathroom, and not so sneakily ducks in there to grab it after Lia leaves. Back in her room, she happily licks up the still warm glass, tasting Lia’s sweet honey. Once she's slurped up all of Lia's cum and has sufficiently replaced it with her own spit, she pulls up an image on her phone from her private folder (which may or may not be exclusive 'selfies' that Lia sent her). Facing down on her stomach, she bucks against the glass dildo, squeezing it with her velvety walls whilst grinding her clit on her wrist.
She gets a message notification from Chaeryeong - 'Unnie it's my turn when you're done.' Chae waits patiently in the next room over, listening to the consistent creaking of Ryujin's bed. Ryujin exits her bedroom and catches Chaeryeong in the hallway. She holds up the used dildo, attempting to make eye contact with a half smirk and a fucked out expression, but the younger girl is too shy and meekly grabs it from her hand without looking, giggling as she walks off to her own room. Chaeryeong is fucking ready to be filled up, and has her face down and ass up within seconds of closing the door. She rubs the glass along her tight little ass hole and then her pussy, lubing them both up with Ryujin's cum. She then pushes in, pounding away at her pussy with it - whatever remained of her Unnie's cum is now thoroughly mixed in with her own. She rubs her ass with her free hand, easily slipping in one, then two fingers thanks to the cum lube. Chaeryeong quickly reaches her climax this way, feeling like such a dirty slut fucking both of her holes.
Even though Chaeryeong makes a good effort to keep her voice contained, through the walls Yuna can hear the creamy slaps as her Unnie pounds into herself. Yuna had already made herself cum once during all of this, but she was a crazed fuck bunny who rarely stopped at one orgasm. Once again, the abused toy gets passed along. From the tip to the base, the dildo is coated with globs of Chaeryeong’s thick cream. Yuna makes sure to nibble at it a bit, then leans back and fucks herself silly. Simultaneously, she gropes at her perky tits, pinching her hard nipples. The stimulation and knowing that the toy has been passed down the line from every member all the way down to her, has her tight cunt squeezing at the glass dildo as she nuts. Pulling it out, she licks at it like a lollipop, cleaning off all that girl cum.
What toy will Itzy as a group buy next? Well to be honest, they should probably skip the middleman and just start directly fucking each other. They're already intimately familiar with each others moans of pleasure through the walls, and even what each other tastes like. It'll happen sooner or later, and Ryujin does have that strap-on after all...
A/N: If you couldn't tell by the image, this is mostly inspired by Chaeryeong's facial massage roller meme from one of their 'what's in my bag' videos. I also read @minheelovelee's post about Yuna's sex toys a while back, which served as inspo too. If anyone's interested I want to do a girl penis version of this as well.
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finluz · 1 year
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//totk gameplay video spoilers
i was a bit cautious when they showed those vehicles in the last trailer, but after seeing the new gameplay video i am completely sold.
i was wondering how they were going to deal with the weapon durability since it turned a lot of people off of the game, and people were throwing around ideas like crafting or repairing or just removing it.
this fuse mechanic seems kind of genius because it embraces that crafting and player improvement without sacrificing the wild and improvisational aspect that makes botw so special. i think making the player sit at a crafting bench prepping for five hours would've been a bad idea, and this new shit is perfect.
a lot of open world stealthy crafty games like these have a lot of useless items in them that i just never really get around to using other than really specific situations, leading to them wasting a slot. (i.e. scatterbangs in legends arceus or literally any of the consumables in elden ring)
having that type of item just pull from the infinite pool of cooking materials you randomly pick up or pointless physics objects that normally don't have an interaction is such a seamless idea that im genuinely impressed.
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one of the first things i saw was that the ability slider was replaced with a symbol of an apple, which seemed strange at first, but after seeing how the rest of the video played out, i realize just how much of a gamechanger this is.
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i dont know how to stress just how happy it makes me that you can just do this instantly when a contemporary game would make you sit at a bench or menu screen crafting x5 homing arrows
god i love zelda
also i want to raw link
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seat-safety-switch · 6 months
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Olden times used to be a lot better for race car construction. Speeds were slower, and safety meant being able to re-use the driver after you won. Plus, nobody really knew what they were doing. You could throw an old fuel tank from an airplane onto an old truck frame, weld the two parts together, and once the fires were extinguished, you'd have a winning dragster.
Nowadays, decades of intense competition, workplace safety regulation, and the discovery of hyperfocus-related mental disorders have produced race cars that would have been completely unimaginable to our distant ancestors. You can zip down the straight faster than the aforementioned bomber plane could, slam into a copse of trees on the side of the road, and probably come out of it at least half alive. Winning? Yeah, you could do that too, but you'd need to be trained in the fine art of racecraft nearly from birth, unlike me.
I know a lot of people are tired of me complaining about how old garbage that you find on the side of the road is better than all the new garbage that you have to have a paying job in order to afford. I'm tired of saying it! Which is why I decided to put my money where my mouth is. Not literally, because I have no money and because the Canadian plastic currency has been chemically constructed to be disgusting to eat, but you get the idea.
In the interest of getting better at motorsport, I've decided to start from square one, myself. I went to the store, and I started welding some frame together, using the store demo welders. Naturally, I wore a reflective vest, so that everyone knew I was supposed to be there. I drove the resulting vehicle right out of the store, after a quick stop-off at the self-checkout to ring up a pair of overpriced Chapsticks. Then I've been driving my improvised rocket ship in the woods at night. It's hard work, but I figure eventually I'll learn what I did wrong with this piece of shit, and head back to do something better. By 2090 or so, I should be roughly caught up to the state of the art in 1925. For instance, I've already determined that my next race car should have headlights.
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matan4il · 22 hours
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Daily update post:
Since this morning, Hezbollah has been firing rockets at Israel's northern towns. There is at least one man dead, identified as 25 years old Zahara Bashar, an Israeli Druze, and 2 people injured as a result of this on going attack.
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This is a reaction by Iran-funded Hezbollah to a strike by Israel yesterday on a different terrorist organization, al-Jama’a al-Islamiyya (the Islamic Assembley, an ally of al-Qaeda), and following even more Israeli military activity in Lebanon, meant to stop a senior member of Fatah (the ruling party of the Palestinian Authority) from smuggling Iranian-funded standard explosives and additional weapons into Israel for terrorist attacks. As one TV military reporter I was listening to yesterday explained, the difference between improvised explosives and standard ones is in how lethal they are, for example when a small amount is attached to the side of a vehicle, the difference is whether one person gets killed or ten.
youtube
I've written about Israel still waiting for definitive proof that Marwan Issa, Hamas' #3 in Gaza, has been killed in a military strike. Yesterday, we got an official confirmation of that. This means that out of the 4 Hamas leaders that are on the top of Israel's list, two are gone. We're still left with Yahya Sinwar (#1) and Mohammed Deif (#2). Most Israelis tend to think that if Israel manages to kill Sinwar, Hamas will likely surrender, and the war would be over.
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As Israel's military operation in the Shifa hospital continues, here is a really important batch of testimonies from captured terrorists, about how, once the IDF left this place, they returned to it, exploited it assuming they'd be safe there, and how they were not alone, with defined areas for the Hamas terrorists, and others meant for the Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ) terrorists, cynically using spots such as the maternity ward.
youtube
A military reporter published the fact that Israel has refused permission for Turkey and Qatar to participate in air drops of humanitarian aid into Gaza. The reporter frames it as a political decision, but consider what it means that Qatar and Turkey are both politically hostile countries - that there is no way for Israel to verify they would not try to air drop military aid to Hamas. At the same time, I wanna highlight what this info also means, and hasn't been talked about... It means that every time you hear about yet another country air dropping aid into Gaza, that's done with Israel's permission. And there are way more countries permitted to do this than refused. This is one of many things that should make it clear that Israel is NOT targeting regular Gazans, and is making every possible effort to make sure they are getting humanitarian aid, while trying to minimize how much this aids Hamas (and in that sense, prolongs the war).
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These are brothers Neria and Daniel Sharabi.
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On Oct 7, they were at the Nova music festival. Not only did they survive Hamas' massacre, they also helped to save others. Since then, they've started a fund to help the survivors, and in order to raise money, they've been traveling abroad, telling their story, mostly to Jewish communities. A couple of days ago, they were traveling to Manchester, in the UK, when they were asked at the airport upon arrival what their religion was. They recount that after disclosing they were Jews and what they were there to do, they encountered hostile reactions, including being told (according to a TV interview I heard with them), "We don't like what you're here to do," and "We have to make sure that you are not going to do here what you are doing in Gaza." They were detained for a couple of hours, before being allowed in. The brothers said they're convinced this was motivated by antisemitism based on being questioned about their religion. The incident is said to be investigated.
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This is 40 years old Amit Soussana.
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She was kidnppaed to Gaza from her home in kibbutz Kfar Azza, and among the hostages released in late November. A lot of Israelis remember her as the hostage who was captured on film trying to fight off the men taking her, with no less than 7 of them (yes, Israelis have counted) involved in her abduction:
We've had private testimonies from Israelis about having been raped, we've had public testimonies from Israeli who have seen the physical evidence of the Hamas rapes, we've had public testimonies of Israelis who have witnessed those rapes, and we've had public testimonies of hostages, who've heard from their fellow captives about the sexual abuse the latter have gone through. All that wasn't enough for some people, who continued to deny Hamas' sexual violence. Now, Amit Soussana is the first Israeli to come forward and publicly talk about the sexual assault she had suffered at the hands of Hamas. Her testimony has been published in the New York Times, and for anyone without a subscription, other publications have quoted parts of it, like Times of Israel. A part of me really hates that Amit might have felt compelled to speak because of the doubt cast at raped Jews. Another part thinks that for the second time, she is showing outstanding bravery. And yet another finds it hard to believe that this will make a difference. Those who are dead set on not believing Jews, essentially calling us all liars, will do the same to her, and when they do, I hope she won't have to witness that firsthand. But in a sense, if their doubt is indeed the reason why she felt she had to speak up publicly, then it's clear that there's already been damage done to the victims of Hamas' sexual violence.
This is 35 years old Uriel Baruch with his son.
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Uriel was married, and a father of two. He loved techno music, and on Oct 7 was attending the Nova music festival along with a friend, Michael Yoav, who was murdered there (his body was found shot in the car in which the two were trying to escape). Uriel was kidnapped. Yesterday, the army was able to confirm to the family that Hamas had murdered him while in captivity, and is still holding Uriel's body hostage. The number of Israeli hostages in Gaza is 134, and the official confirmations of death indicate that no more than 98 are still alive, though some count Hamas claims as well, in which case no more than 96 are. May Uriel's memory be a blessing.
(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)
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ladytauria · 4 months
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Jaytim for 38?
thank you for the prompt!!!
i took it in a bit of a different direction—i was a little stuck on what to do, actually, lol. @waffleinator-inator made a suggestion they got the wheels turning, though, even if i didn’t end up going in that direction either! <3
it’s also a little bit inspired by this series which is among my favorite jaytim fics ever lol. the inspiration was mostly the tim driving bits; i don’t remember which fic it’s in, but there’s a line in jason’s pov abt tim driving that just… gets me
this is… either a no capes or jason lives au, w/ a side of possible hs au xD
posted & half-written on mobile so pardon any mistakes <3
i hope you enjoy!!
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There is nothing hotter than watching Tim drive.
Well—
Alright.
That isn’t true. But something about watching how calm and confident he is in the driver’s seat is… intoxicating. Maybe it’s the way his long fingers wrap around the gearshift, or the steady grip he has on the wheel. Maybe it’s the way his sleeves are rolled up; exposing the corded muscle of his forearm, and the leather bracelet Jason wove for him tied around the sharp bones of his wrist. Maybe it’s the control he has, coolly certain that the vehicle will do exactly as he tells it to.
It’s enough to make his mouth dry.
Cool blue eyes glance his way. “Can’t get comfortable?” Tim asks, the dry humor in his tone bringing a flush to Jason’s cheeks.
“I—uh.” He has to stop and raise his green tea to his mouth, taking a few sips to wet his throat before he can continue. “I’m plenty comfortable, thanks. Just—a little lost in enjoying the view.” Fuck. Normally he’s more suave than this. Or he thinks he is, anyway. He can’t really say for certain. He doesn’t—do this much. Date. Most of the people in Gotham’s upper crust wouldn’t sully themselves with dating a street rat—except for those who can look past it to get at Bruce’s money.
Tim’s—different.
Jason watches his lips quirk—though, gratifyingly, there’s a bit of pink to his cheeks. “What, Mr. Wayne doesn’t take you out of the city much?” he asks.
“It’s different with you,” Jason says—and he. The cheesy romance of the line makes his stomach flip, but it’s true. Everything is different with Tim. There’s a diner he goes to with Dick and Cass, and Damian if they buy him something vegetarian first, but. He took Tim the other day and— It was almost like going somewhere entirely new.
The blush on Tim’s face gets a little brighter. “We’re almost there,” he says, instead of replying to that. Which suits Jason just fine—he likes when they flirt, but it also leaves his insides squirmy, and skin tight and tingly.
Today was a more—spontaneous date than Jason was used to. Tim was like that sometimes; he’d get an idea in his head and then just decide to act on it. An impulsivity that Jason… well. He wouldn’t say he lacked it, he was plenty impulsive but—
He liked plans.
But it was nice, following Tim’s lead, even when Tim was just making it up as he went along. He had a way of seeming so confident and assured in his plans that Jason couldn’t even tell he was improvising.
Today, Tim had decided the plan of the day was to ‘go fast.’ There was a stretch of road between Gotham and Bludhaven that almost no one used—a place Tim liked to go and see just how fast his car could really go.
Jason is excited. It’s one thing to watch Tim drive in the city. It’s going to be another thing to watch him out here. Couple that with the privacy—the lack of cameras or nosy siblings or overprotective fathers…
His heart thrums in his chest. He doesn’t know how far he’s ready to go, but… It’ll be nice to find out, maybe.
Tim turns onto another road. “Ready?” he asks, rolling the windows down.
Jason grins. “Yeah,” he says; wrapping one arm around the door handle. “Let’s go.”
Tim presses harder on the gas pedal. The engine rumbles, no longer whisper-quiet but a low, rolling growl Jason feels in his belly.
The wind whips through his hair, mussing his carefully styled curls. It brings more color to his cheeks, and roars in his ears. The scenery begins to blur together.
Jason’s grin widens. The wind steals the saliva from his mouth, leaving it dry again, but he doesn’t care.
He glances over at Tim—
He’s gorgeous, a crooked grin on his face; eyes bright and shining. The wind pulls his hair from where he tied it back; the feathery strands whipping around his face, some of them getting in his mouth and sticking to his cheeks. He looks— just as calm and relaxed as he does on the freeway, driving down a neighborhood, rolling his eyes at main street traffic.
Jason wants to kiss him.
He wants—he wants to climb over the glovebox and straddle his thighs, wants to feel Tim’s hands on his hair, splayed over his ribs, on the back of his neck. Wherever he wants, as long as they’re on Jason.
He wants—
He wants.
Tim glances his way. His eyes widen a moment, like he can see Jason’s desire written on his face. Maybe he can.
“Do you want to—“ Tim has to shout to be heard over the wind. He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, though, before sirens blare behind him.
“Shit,” Jason says, as he watches Tim’s mouth form a similar word. Both expletives are stolen, though.
Tim’s mouth twists as he slows down, pulling onto the shoulder as soon as it’s safe. “Sorry,” he murmurs to Jason as he rolls down his window. “There usually aren’t any policemen here.” He reaches into his pocket.
“It’s fine,” Jason says, waving his hand. He’s still not the biggest fan of cops—avoids them, if he can get away with it. But the instant paranoia they cause is easier to swallow these days, if only because he trusts that Bruce would raise hell if any of ‘em tried anything.
He glances in the rear view—and swears.
“Motherfucker.”
A very familiar figure steps out of the vehicle behind them. Jason didn’t talk to Dick for a week when he announced he was going to the police academy. He should have held his tongue for longer.
Tim glances up at the vitriol in his tone, license now clutched between his fingers. He glances in his mirror, and Jason can tell the moment he recognizes Dick. Unlike Jason, though, Tim breathes a soft sigh of relief.
Jason doesn’t have enough time to tell him his relief is premature before Dick approaches the window.
He flashes them both a bright, sunny grin. Jason wants to punch him.
“Do you know why I pulled you over?” Dick asks, politely.
Of all the stupid fucking—
“Because you’re an asshole you—“
Tim cuts him off with a gentle touch to his knee. “No, Officer, I don’t,” Tim says; and Jason knows, despite Tim facing away from him, that he’s wearing his polite gala smile.
Dick’s smile dims a bit, but he holds it in place. “This is a forty mile-per-hour zone,” he says. “Wanna tell me why you were doing over a hundred?”
Jason looks in Tim’s mirror; biting his lip to hold back his smile when he sees Tim’s eyes widen, mouth parting. He looks like the picture of innocence.
“Was I? Sorry, Officer, I’ve been meaning to get this looked at,” Tim says, nodding towards his speedometer. “Part of why I drive on back roads; according to it, I was only doing fifty.” He glances at Jason. “Right, baby?”
Jason nods immediately, his shoulders starting to shake.
“Uh-huh,” Dick drawls. “You know it’s a two-hundred sixty dollar fine, right?” He pauses and glances at Jason. “Not to mention the aneurysm Bruce’ll have when he finds out.”
“I think you mean *if* he finds out,” Jason says. “Since, y’know, you’re a cool older brother and will let us off with a warning?”
Dick snorts. “But then how will I know you’ve learned your lesson?” he raises his brows. “It’s a backroad, not a speedway.”
“Like you didn’t do way worse at our age!” Jason has heard the stories. Some of them he wishes he hadn’t.
Dick snorts. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time,” he relents. “But, seriously. If you want to speed, I know of a couple places you can go. No more speeding on the backroad.”
Tim nods seriously.
Dick gives him a pink slip. “Alright, you two. Have fun, be safe, don’t do anything Uncle Clark wouldn’t do. I’ll see you at dinner, Jason—Tim?”
Tim shrugs.
“Probably,” Jason answers for him.
Dick nods, and walks back to his car. Jason pauses, then unbuckles his seatbelt to lean out the window and shout, “And stop following us, asshole!”
Dick gives him a lazy salute before slipping into his car. Jason doesn’t trust him a bit.
He flops back in the seat, buckling himself back in. “Sorry my brother is such a dick,” he says.
Tim smiles at him. “Don’t worry about it, Jay,” he says, leaning over the console. Jason meets him halfway, receiving a short, sweet kiss for his trouble. Both of them linger, breath mingling.
“Sorry your plans are ruined,” Jason murmurs.
Tim hums. “I wouldn’t say they’re ruined. I’d be happy just to drive with you.”
The flush is back in Jason’s cheek. “I, uh. That sounds nice. Maybe, uh. Maybe we could find a nice place to park, too?”
Tim turns cherry red. “I— Yeah. Um. We could. Probably do that.”
Jason grins.
If Dick tries to get them for public indecency, Jason’s going to commit fratricide. Hopefully Tim will be willing to go on the run with him.
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LRDP Group Jeep armed with a pair of Vickers K machine guns fully loaded for a patrol
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mysteryfleshpit · 2 years
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In the early 1970s, prior to the involvement of either the Anodyne Corporation or the National Park Service, exploration of the Mystery Flesh Pit was a crude and arduous exercise undertaken by local agriculture & oil field workers. These young men, many of whom possessed no formal training in caving, improvised a variety of methods to aid in these early missions of discovery. An early attempt to mechanize the task of crawling through the viscera of the fleshscape took the form of field modified work trucks. Like the surviving GMC C/K truck shown here (formerly on display within the Upper Visitor Center), these jury-rigged vehicles lacked standardized designs and were highly experimental in nature. Though lacking the safety and articulation features common to later purpose-built machines such as the Grumman-produced Internal Anatomy Vehicle, these simple trucks were relatively instrumental in early exploration efforts to survey the Permian Basin Superorganism, with two or three surviving in service well into the 1980s.
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Paw Patrol Appreciation Week 2024
Monday - The Beginning
For my very first Paw Patrol Week, I'm picking my good boy who looks like me in every way, Rocky!
To go along with this art, I made some sort of drabble which is divided in five parts (I swear it's a coincidence with Rocky's vehicle number, I didn't plan on that XD). I'll put it under the cut because it's kinda long ahsushshshshs
Anyway I hope you like it!!
As soon as she got there and placed the bag down, five small pups perked up and came out of the shadows inside the shelter. The first one was mostly light gray in color, with nearly white paws and tail tip, sniffing the air, while the others waited just behind.
The Beginning
Lightning flashed the night sky in the town. A dark gray stray dog ran through a couple streets under the rainstorm, bringing a plastic bag in her mouth. She entered a darker alley between an old restaurant and a residential building, going to the far end of it and depositing the bag on the floor, in front of an improvised shelter made of bricks, pieces of broken furniture and some cardboard and wood planks.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, dear.” The dog smiled. “I’m sorry your mommy’s smelling funny now. Had to go look for food somewhere else. Did you take care of your siblings while I was out, like I asked?”
“I did!” The gray pup puffed up his chest, proud. “No one got lost today.”
Another lightning strike, followed by a powerful thunder roar. The pup rushed back into their shelter, terrified. “Make the rain stop!”
The other pups glanced incredulously at him. “It’s just water.”
“I don’t wanna die like…” The gray pup shut up. He didn’t wanna die like their white and brown sibling, drowning during a flood just a few days ago.
“Shh… It’s okay.” Their mom went inside and laid down, beckoning them all closer to her. “We’re safe here. You built us a very good dog house in a higher place exactly for this reason, remember? Always remember this, my dear. We’re in a no flood zone now. The water won’t reach us here.”
********************
“Hey mom! Look what I found!” 
The gray pup came running across the park to meet his mom, who was lying down under one of the trees. The other pups were playing around. She looked up, curious.
“What do you have there?”
“I found this funny rock while hiding in the hide and seek game. It has a lock in it and looks like a ball! Can I keep it?”
The mother took a closer look at the rock and smiled. “Oh, it’s a geode!”
“Ah what?”
“A geode. It’s a very cool kind of treasure, here, let me show you.” She investigated the lock more closely, frowning. “Hmm, it’s really closed. Do you think you can find a way to open this lock?”
“Sure!” The gray pup grinned and ran away. “I’ll be back soon!”
A few minutes later, he was back holding an old worn out screwdriver in his mouth. With a determined look, he picked at the lock with it until they heard a clicking sound and the geode opened in half.
That was the most beautiful thing the pup had ever seen! Inside the rock, there were so many green crystals, shining in the sunlight.
“Sometimes, nature plays pranks on us.” His mom chuckled. “Just like this. If anyone would look, they’d just see a round rock. But inside, it’s hiding a cool shiny treasure.”
“Like how people look at you and think you’re just a stray dog but have no idea you’re the best mom ever?” He grinned, earning a laugh from her. 
“Or maybe like you, who is actually so much smarter and more intelligent than most dogs I’ve ever known, and you’re not even six months old yet.”
********************
“Pups, we need to go.”
They found it weird. Their mother seemed scared. What could be bad enough to make her scared?
The gray pup stepped up ahead of the others. “What’s happening?”
“I heard the restaurant owner talking on the phone just a minute ago. He’s calling animal control. Quick, we need to get away from here now!”
“What’s animal control?” A black and white pup asked, confused.
“It’s a car with bad people. They capture dogs and other animals on the streets, and take them away. No one ever escaped after being captured. We never saw anyone coming back alive.”
That made all five pups share a startled glance. The gray pup jumped out of the shelter and turned to the others. “Come on! We already lost our sister, we can’t let them take us now too!”
All pups and their mother were about to leave from their alley, when a van stopped just in front of them and two men stepped out, staring at them.
“I think these are the dogs we gotta catch today?” One asked, picking up a long stick with a lasso on one end of it.
“Mostly pups. This will be easy.” The other replied, holding up a net. “You catch the mother, I’ll get the pups.”
********************
It had been five days and the gray pup was almost giving up. After being the only one to narrowly escape capture, he had run until he was out of the town, hiding in the woods. Without trash bins or dumpsters around, he had no idea where to look for food…
He kept walking until he found a dirt road.
“Maybe this will take me to another town.” He considered. “I can find food there…”
Now he was so weak already, and there was still no sign of another town anywhere near! Sometimes he had to get out of the road to not get hit by eventual cars driving by. More than twice he had to hide from hungry eagles or bears. He couldn’t continue like this…
The sun was so strong. He stopped walking and sat down on the dry grass beside the road. Looking up, he thought he saw something in the distance… Maybe another town? He couldn’t be sure, his vision was so distorted now. With a heavy sigh, he collapsed to the ground and closed his eyes. That was it…?
The last thing he heard was the noise of yet another vehicle passing by… But this one stopped.
He heard a dog barking.
And then, nothing.
********************
The first thing he felt was… Cold.
No, not really. He wasn’t cold. He felt… Refreshed…? How was that possible?
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
He was lying on some kind of… Cooling mat? Daring to lift his head, he looked around.
He seemed to be in a big room. The walls were decorated with silhouettes of pups, bones and paw prints. Some colorful big pillows and beanbags were scattered on the floor. Just in front of him, there was a bowl filled with–
“Water!” He rasped as he hurried to crawl over and just dive his snout in the bowl, drinking it like there was no tomorrow. So fresh and clean, much unlike the rain puddles from where he last drank the day before! They tasted so bad and were so hot under the sun…
“Oh, you’re awake!”
This other voice startled the pup and he sat up, looking to the direction it came from.
Another pup approached, coming through the front door. He had brown fur, with light caramel colored face, underbelly and paws. This pup was soon followed by two others, one was white with a few black spots and the other was entirely cream colored and smaller than the first two.
The gray pup felt scared. What if it was their home and he wasn’t supposed to be here…?
The brown pup stopped his approach, keeping a bit of a distance from him. The other two watched curiously from both his sides, as he spoke again with a smile.
“You don’t need to be afraid! We’re not gonna hurt you. This water is for you, we figured you’d be thirsty when you would wake up.”
“... Where am I?”
“You’re in the Lookout tower of the Paw Patrol!” The spotted pup spoke now too, wagging his tail. “It’s our home! Isn’t it cool?”
“I was running an errand with Ryder, our owner, when we found you by the roadside.” The brown pup explained. “You passed out and seemed very weak. How are you feeling now?”
“... A bit better.” The gray pup eyed the water bowl. “Is it really for me…?”
“Yes. There’s more if you want.”
“Are you hungry too?” The spotted pup asked him, but didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll get some snacks!”
They watched as the pup rushed to a food dispenser on the far opposite side of the room and pressed a button, making the food come out in another bowl. Then he pushed this bowl with dog food and placed it next to the water one, with a big smile. The gray pup looked up at them with relief and tried the food.
It tasted… So good?? He avidly went down on it, earning a chuckle from the spotted pup, who now backed away to give him space and sat down beside the brown pup again.
“My name is Chase.” The brown pup spoke again. “These are Marshall and Skye. What’s your name?”
“Name…?” The pup paused eating, thoughtful.
It just occurred to him that he didn’t have a name. Coming to think of it, he never knew his mother’s name either, only ever calling her “mom”, “mommy”, and so on.
But he couldn’t leave them hanging. A name…
Then he remembered something.
That special rock with green crystals he had found. He liked it so much. It was one of the things he missed the most after having to run away from his hometown, aside from his family.
“... My name is… Rocky.”
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papa-squat-89 · 8 months
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Watch "Mobile Bunkers, Using Concrete as Armor | Cursed by Design ft. TankParty" on YouTube
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bitter-panacea · 1 year
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Page of doodles based on an alternate universe idea I had in which theodore didn't get adopted and instead was raised by and grew up with hershel.
Teddy owns a garage because I think that's what he would have wanted to do if he hadn't gotten into archeology. I mean... dude loves his car and building improvised vehicles.
Edit : I completely forgot to mention. In this au, Hershel is a composer/lyricist
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