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frostyhelltime · 3 months

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Alastor Realizes He Has Feelings For You Part 2

Alastor x GN!Reader

AN: I'm so happy so many people seem to like this so far! I hope you all enjoy this part 2! Now I'm gonna get back to working on my inbox. I'm loving the requests I'm seeing come in so feel free to keep sending them in! ❤️ And as I said in the preview I tend to write Alastor from more of a demisexual lenses since it's on the ace spectrum and I also largely consider myself demisexual if that helps to know for this.

Link to part 1 is right HERE.

Alastor is a planner. Always has been and likely always will be. He has different plans and scenarios for almost every occasion, and has backup plans for most any issue he could ever encounter. Suffice to say, it made him a terrible person to try and out maneuver. But it was especially difficult when you weren't even aware of the game of chess he was playing.

So he does what he does best, plan. It's easier to focus on the goal of ensnaring you instead of really analyzing his own complicated feelings. He starts small, not wanting to throw you off too harshly. It had to be subtle. He starts doing things that wouldn't…necessarily be odd, considering his personality, but they're still things he hasn't really done before.

Such as pulling your chair out for you when you go to sit down. It's not too odd. A gentlemanly thing to do. But he can tell from the look on your face that you're struggling to remember if this is a new behavior or if he's always done it and you just never noticed.

He went out of his way to accompany you when possible, more so than usual. Especially if it was into a less desirable part of town. But still, nothing changes. It honestly vexes him because he doesn't even quite know how he fell for you, so he couldn't even attempt to replicate it to make you fall for him in turn.

Perhaps subtle was the wrong way to go? Perhaps he should be a little more…forward?

He again starts small, not wanting to startle you, but it seems it does regardless. In hindsight him reaching for you first instead of the other way around was certainly something novel and new, so it made sense it surprised you the first few times he placed his hand on the small of your back as you both walked, a gesture of affection, protection, and possession all at once.

He would almost wonder if he was doing something wrong if he hadn't seen that delightful little dusting of pink across your cheeks each time he does it.

It's then he realizes that due to his….general nature and lack of romantic relationships, that you're likely trying to justify all of his actions as extremely friendly rather than the subtle flirtations he meant them to be.

Which annoyed him until a hint of mischief crossed his face with a realization. If you thought he was just being extraordinarily friendly…he could perhaps be even…more bold without fully showing you his hand yet.

Yes, he could certainly have fun with that.

He's thinking later on that day about how he could torment you with his affections when he passes by the library and sees you struggling, quite poorly, to reach a book.

His grin grows imperceptibly wider as he silently approaches behind you. He weighs his options on how he should go about it and eventually decides to lean over, until his lips are almost flush to your ear.

“Do you need any help mon cœur?” He almost purrs in your ear and he has to admit there is a certain thrill and exhilaration unlike what he's used to feeling, when you jump from how close his voice is.

“A-Alastor! I…I didn't realize you were there.” You managed to squeak out as you felt his claws rest on the crook of your waist. The proximity, touch, and whispered voice is clearly a lot for you since he can see your blush has even spread to the tips of your ears.

How cute. He wonders what other parts of you can so plainly show your feelings because of him? Ah but he's losing focus now.

“Oh, my apologies. How rude of me not to greet you! Hello there.” He hasn't moved his mouth an inch, his voice brushing against you like velvet as he speaks. As soon as he does actually greet you, one of his hands captures yours and brings it to his lips, and he's able to hear the slight hitch in your breath as he does so. It's certainly a sound he's quickly become a fan of, that he wants to hear over and over again. He once again allows his mind to wander for just a moment on other ways he could have you make that sound for him. But then he's focused once more, his hand dropping yours and snatching the book you appeared to be reaching for with ease before leaning back down to whisper in your ear.

“Is this what you needed mon cœur?” He continues to drawl sweetly in your ear as he repeats the pet name that still manages to make you flush and fidget nervously despite not knowing what the hell he was even saying. He noticed the pet names seemed to make you feel some type of way when they were French, even though he's called you darling and dear and various other things in English more than a few times. But no matter. He doesn't really care about the reasoning behind it, just excited he has another tool in his arsenal to ensure you turn your gaze to him instead of some pathetic sinner that thought they had a chance with you. He can feel his ears flatten slightly in agitation at the mere thought, but thankfully you're unable to see in your current position so he gives nothing away.

He sees he isn't the only one to get lost in his thoughts, since you haven't responded yet, and he's oh so curious to know what is going on in that head of yours. But another time. For now he was making such progress, he feels.

His chuckle in your ear is dark and low, but warm like honey before his voice rings out again, laced with amused curiosity.

“Mon cœur?”

You snap to attention at that, as if just remembering he was even there.

“Y-Yep! That's the book! Thank you!”

The little stutter was cute, he admits. Especially when he knows he caused it. But he thinks this is enough for now, to help lead your mind down less…platonic roads. The idea was to have you approach him, to maintain that illusion of control. Like you thought of it, and approached him and he'll pretend to entertain the idea before giving it a shot.

But it's fine you were taking a while to grow the courage. He was a very patient man, and the way he was clearly driving you up the wall with his back and forth actions was certainly entertaining enough in the meantime.

“Glad to be of service!” His normal radio host cadence was back again as he pulled away, his touch leaving you entirely, and he's sure it leaves a cold spot in his absence that he's sure you notice, since he can feel the same sharp contrast of the lack of warmth on him from where you're no longer touching.

He seems so cheerful and carefree that it almost makes you wonder if you had hallucinated this whole interaction. But by the time you spin around to talk to him, he's already gone. But even from the shadows he can see the way your flushed face and wide eyes search the room for him, hand over your heart as if you could will your heartbeat to slow. He's certain you must be feeling a sense of whiplash from the drastic change in demeanor and he watches as you lean back against the shelves, holding the book and shaking your head a moment.

“I feel like I'm going crazy…” He watched you mutter and it only made him smile more. So his actions were effective after all. You were just trying very hard to be respectful and polite to him since you knew his nature so well…an endearing gesture that just made him want to sink his claws even deeper into you.

Knowing his actions affect you just emboldens him further. When you share coffee the next morning with him and the two of you chat, tucked away in whatever room seemed to strike your fancy that day, he notices you seem to be avoiding his eyes, your head tilted down.

He tuts a moment, putting his coffee down and using one claw to tilt your head upward to face him, using his other hand to brush your hair away from your face to stop obscuring his attempts to look at you.

“There we are. Much better.” He smiles brightly at you, even as he sees the crimson rush to your cheeks. He lets his hands linger a little longer than needed before he releases you and picks his coffee cup back up again, as if what he's done wasn't abnormal in the slightest.

“A-Alastor…?” He hears you ask tentatively, and he thinks his patience is finally going to pay off.

“Yes mon cœur?” He asks, tilting his head to the side in an innocent manner that is a laughable contrast to what you know of the radio demon's legacy and reputation.

“I..” He leans forward slightly, eager for your expected confession, his eyes drifting down to your throat as he watches you swallow thickly from nerves.

“...I…n-nevermind. I…forgot what I was going to say.” You eventually give up and his shoulders slump just the slightest bit in disappointment although his smile doesn't falter, although it is strained.

“...No worries. When it comes back to you, I've always got an open ear available for you.” He assures you, although inside he sighs. How can he make you crack? He wants to make you crack before he does, to maintain that illusion of control and so you don't realize the power you possess of how much he could give you if you only asked. He's thinking again, a peaceful quiet settled over the both of you as you each are lost in thought over your individual predicaments.

Perhaps…he could distract you from your date, maybe even ensure you miss it anyway, and perhaps see him in a less…platonic way at the same time. He could simply…take the place of this undeserving date of yours.

“...You know…I had heard there was a new jazz club that had opened up recently, and I know no one else here has enough taste to appreciate the music appropriately so I wouldn't want to take any of them.” He uses his free hand to wave off the notion before you can even suggest it.

“Perhaps I could take you with me? Perhaps I can show you how well I bet we could cut a rug together? It's been quite some time since I've gotten to enjoy a dance with a worthy partner.” He says, putting particular emphasis on the last word, eyes partially closing as he makes sure to look at you with a more seductive gaze to further entice you.

You always respond to his compliments so well, a nervous fidget, perhaps a bite of your lip as you think of how to respond, and of course that cute little blush he was quite fond of by now.

“That…” You swallow again, opening your mouth a moment as if searching for words before you continue speaking.

“That sounds…lovely. Just…let me know when to be ready.”

This time his grin is more reminiscent of a spider watching a fly heading right into its web as he gives you all the details needed of when and where.

When the time officially comes, he's delighted that you show up in the lobby at the appropriate time for a few reasons. It meant you were going to go, was the most obvious reason. But the second reason was that unless this idiot wanted to take you dancing on a Sunday night…you probably broke your date with them to be with him. A fact that certainly makes his ego puff up as he takes your hand and kisses it, a routine that feels almost natural now.

“My…I'll be the envy of everyone there with this beauty on my arm…” He chuckles, smiling wider when he sees that tell tale blush spread down to your neck as you stumble over a ‘thank you’. He offers his arm to you, which you politely take as if he were escorting you anywhere normally. Him initiating contact, even if it was small, was also beginning to feel more natural to you both, even if it was small touches.

He can tell by the way you act that you can sense this is different from other friendly outings you two had been on. Good. He was beginning to doubt his abilities to charm for a little bit there. Perish the thought.

There are also, admittedly, things that he has begun to notice are different as the night goes on as well. Had he always been able to feel how warm your hands were or had he just never noticed? It's easier to notice now as he twirls you around to the lovely jazz band playing up on stage, hand never letting yours go entirely as the two of you dance.

He's also glad to see those pesky nerves of yours finally seemed to be wearing off and you were relaxing with him again, like you had before he began attempting to quietly pursue you. Your smile and laugh were far more carefree and jovial as he dips you, arm wrapped tightly around your waist to keep you from falling before he tugs you back up to continue.

With you relaxing, he finds himself mirroring that demeanor and he's overall less anxious and tense, and much less focused on ensnaring you. Now he was just…having fun. No planning. No ulterior motives. Just having a good time. It's actually quite nice to enjoy the feeling in the moment.

There are a few brief moments where you tense, for instance when his face comes just a little too close to yours, and he can tell you're clearly wondering if he'll close the gap or if you're just imagining things that aren't there. Or when he gives a particularly sultry gaze and accompanying grin as he pulls his lovely dancing partner closer when the distance between you two becomes greater than he wants.

But overall it's an absolutely lovely night and once you've both had your fill you step off the dance floor, Alastor taking a moment to check the time and grinning deviously to himself. It was far too late to meet with up with whoever your date had been, and his ego is admittedly fluffed knowing he was the one able to distract you so thoroughly, as it should be.

As the two of you sit down at one of the tables in the corner, each grabbing a drink from the bar first, you're still laughing with absolute glee over the wonderful night so far.

He enjoys picking your brain as he sips his rye, head resting gently on his free hand as he nods and agrees and puts in his own two cents on this new jazz club. It feels delightfully normal and cozy. While he does quite enjoy flustering you and watching you flounder…he had missed these easygoing conversations he couldn't really seem to have with others. You had been walking on eggshells around him this week, and he didn't realize how terribly he missed this type of interaction with you until now.

It's only after awhile he pretends to check the clock and feigns shock before turning back to you.

“Oh dear! I hadn't realized how late it had gotten. I hope you didn't have any other plans I might have ruined.” His chuckle is easygoing, thinking he knows the answer but wanting to hear you say it anyway. He wants to hear you say you chose him, instead of him just silently knowing.

But you just shake your head, grin still plastered across your face before you take a sip of your cocktail.

“Nope! This was my only plan tonight and I couldn't imagine anything better!” Another delighted laugh from you as confusion crosses his own face immediately.

He cocks his head to the side a little bit, trying to determine if you're lying or not. Although he has never known you to lie to him before…

“Really? It's not nice to lie to me. I thought we were close. No prior commitments to anyone broken to be here with me tonight? No silly little paramour trying to steal away your attention?” He puts emphasis on the word, putting his drink down and using that hand to gently grab your chin and tilt your head up to look him in the eye so he could analyze your expression more acutely. He doesn't mean to say the word ‘paramour’ with such disdain, it simply creeps out into his voice.

But now you just look confused as well as you look up at him.

“No…? I mean. I told Husk about this place and mentioned wanting to go this weekend to check it out. But I didn't say I had anyone in mind to go with me. If anything I was going to ask you, knowing this is your kind of place.” You answer carefully, unsure what the correct answer is supposed to be, and he freezes, hand on your chin tightening almost imperceptibly as the gears begin to turn in his mind.

There's a soft flare of radio static interference that sounds from him that makes others nearby give him more room than they had previously.

You, however, are unafraid. You've become too close to him to really fear he would do anything bad to you. Right now you're mostly just concerned for him and this odd behavior.

His hand drops away from your face, as he takes another sip of his rye, taking that time to collect himself and think of his next course of action.

He should have known better than to trust one singular source of information without double checking…damnit. He had been so wrapped up in his stupid newfound jealousy that he hadn't even stopped to ask Husk if he was absolutely positive that's what you said. He thinks the idiot must have misheard you, and he foolishly accepted it at face value.

But the wheels are turning in your head now too, mouth falling slightly agape as your eyes widen, an outlandish possibility entering your mind that claws at your curiosity so desperately you can't stop yourself from blurting it out.

“...Alastor…Were you trying to stop me from going on what you thought was a date?” You ask, and the excited anticipation in your voice could not be mistaken even though you did try to hide it.

“Of course not.” Is what comes out of his mouth immediately as he pulls away defensively, his ears flattening slightly, two things you pick up on. He's unaware how hard your heart is beating right now as you try to summon the courage to speak your next thought, part of you still thinking it so impossible you shouldn't even bother asking.

“...Are you…jealous over the idea of someone dating me?” You inquire curiously, quirking your head to the side and snaking one hand across the table and taking his hesitantly, unsure if you're crossing some invisible line. You're unsure if you're just firing a shot in the dark and he'll laugh at the notion. But somehow the atmosphere feels far too heavy for him to joke about something like this. It's felt heavy like this all week and you wanted to know why.

But the question just has him put his drink down a little more harshly than he meant to. But he doesn't pull his other hand from yours, the touch a little soothing to him as he deals with his scattered thoughts.

“No.” He says concretely while looking you in the eye, as if daring you to suggest otherwise.

But you still aren't convinced…not with how he had been acting this past week, and this new knowledge. Perhaps…you could try and be a little bold? Perhaps test the waters yourself?

“...That's a shame. I wouldn't have minded if you were.” You state quietly, his ears almost straining to pick up the sound of your voice over the music. Your gaze is pointedly looking away, unsure you would have had the courage to say the words if you had been looking directly at him.

You startle and look back at him, specifically at his hand holding yours because his grip has become noticeably tighter. He's moving closer again, to the shorter distance he had been before he pulled away and you swallow thickly, wondering if you had made a mistake.

His voice is low, and you can oddly see conflict present in his eyes, as if he was warring over what decision to make.

“...and if I say I am?” His voice is heated and almost husky as he speaks, looking you directly in the eye again as he leans even closer now, his face mere inches from yours now.

You're struck speechless by this admission, not even dreaming of that response actually being a reality, and your voice is stuck in your throat as you scramble for a response. Your breath hitches slightly as all you can do is stare at him a moment trying to process this as he waits for your answer, unreadable in this moment.

Your other hand is shaking as you bring it up to rest on his cheek, watching him close his eyes a moment before opening them again as he leans into the touch. It gives you the courage to speak that thought that feels almost too silly to put out into the world.

“...I…I would say you have no reason to be.” You're leaning just the smallest bit forward, as if to silently give permission but not wanting to take that first step yourself and cross his boundaries without permission.

It just made him adore you more.

He bridges the distance, eyes closing as the hand not holding yours is placed on the back of your neck to push you closer, to silently assure you this was no accident.

He can feel your hand gripping his tightly now in response and he can't help but grin into the kiss as you begin to reciprocate once the shock has worn off, lips moving against his with an eager hunger before eventually parting. There's something almost tender in the way he grips your neck, that makes you melt into the kiss with him with ease.

He has to admit he's definitely a fan of this look of yours. Wide eyed, breathing a bit hard with a flushed face and slightly parted mouth as you gazed at him. He wants to see it again.

“...Good. I'm not the type of person who does well with jealousy I've discovered.” His voice is chipper and normal, as if he hadn't just taken your breath away for a moment. Just the whiplash of going from one side of him to the other has you laughing as you lean back, the hand that was once on his face now covering your own.

“...I'll keep that in mind.” You grin, spreading your fingers just enough to peek out at him.

Further discussions could wait until tomorrow of course, of boundaries and labels and everything that comes with it. But for now this is enough. His cards are on the table yes, but yours are laid bare for him to see as well. So he relaxes again into his seat, leaning back but not taking his hand back from yours before looking at the dance floor again.

“...Do you feel like dancing again mon cœur?” He asks, already tugging your hand up to bring you with him. He's eager to dance with you again without having to pretend his intimate and more romantic touches were accidental this time. He hears you giggle before taking another sip of your cocktail and then you're tugging him down to be eye level with you.

“I'd love that, mon amour.” You teasingly breathe into his ear, and you're rewarded by this time getting to see his breath hitch instead of it always being you. You may still not know what he's been calling you, but everyone knows that term of endearment, and there's an almost sinful sense of pride that you were able to pull that type of reaction from him, and now you're even more eager to dance with him again, to find out what else you can see that no one else has before.

You think you understand all the teasing touches he gave you that left you wanting all this week, probably trying to test the waters and bait you into confessing yourself, you can likely guess now. If this is how he felt seeing you react all those times you couldn't blame him.

Perhaps it's only fair to begin to repay him for those tormenting whispers and touches, you think as you two step onto the dance floor, your hand placing itself on his chest before slowly gliding up further and then over his collarbone to rest gingerly on his shoulder for support, your fingers digging in slightly to the flesh of his back. It's hard to tell in this dimly lit lounge but you swear there's a tinge of red to his face, and it just further strengthens the hunger you feel when he growls softly and leans over to whisper to you.

“Tread carefully my dear. I have every intention of approaching this courtship as a gentleman. Do not make that impossible for me to remember…”

Taglist: @zzzykiek @alastorthirsty @sirens-and-moonflowers

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel

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mattscoquette · 2 months

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my experience meeting the triplets/ going to their tour ౨ৎ ⋆.˚ ✧

first i just wanna say, i am so so so insanely grateful to have attended both tours and to have met them twice. i’m not trying to brag or anything but a lot of people ask me and i figured it be easier for me to make one post rather than answer inbox questions a million times that get lost.

2/5/23 - let’s trip tour

i met the triplets for the first time during the let’s trip tour. i vividly remember being at work when the tickets went on sale and i was gonna go w my coworker but things fell thru and i went alone, and that alr was nerve wrecking enough. but i met a lot of cool people on line and everyone was super friendly. i got the pre-show small talk package, so i got to meet them before i saw them on stage. i also wrote them letters (idk if they ever opened them) but it was honestly fate when i stopped to drop them off in the present bin because there was a group of three girls in front of me so i wasn’t super rushed when i was meeting each triplet.

i met chris first! i was soooooo nervous but the second i started talking it all went away. the first thing i noticed was how small they are irl and immediately after was how fucking good chris smelled 😭 he was soo sweet. i told him how i loved watching their videos w my mom and that she was his favorite. i can’t rlly remember what else i talked about him with, and i tried to screen record my camera but i didn’t turn the mic on so i lost all the audio 😭😭

next was matttttt the loml. i was immediately soo comfortable around him, i was literally just talking like a normal conversation without even thinking. i asked him how the tour was going and he told me he was sad it was ending soon. and then i told him how one of my best friends is a triplet and we talked about that, he told me his dad is a twin and that everyone thinks he nick and chris are identical but they aren’t. he was so sweet and really listen to what you have to say, i had such a nice time talking with him.

when i met nick my auto pilot like shut off and i froze 😭😭 i literally out loud was like “i am so nervous” and he was so sweet about it, he hugged me a second time and was like “no don’t be it’s okay!” lmfaoo. i didn’t get to talk to him as long but i remember him telling me it was super nice to meet me after.

on line for the red carpet, i met madi! she was just walking around the venue, and she was over by me and i asked for a photo. she was soo sweet (and so pretty irl omfg). i didn’t wait in line for the red carpet for very long, i got merch, and then i did my photo w them :,) tbh i honestly don’t lovee it because i rlly don’t look the best in it lolol. bur ill pull thru and show u all. but this was back when u got to pick ur own poses and we all did hearts with one another (idk if that makes sense) and i stood next to my mannn😛😛

i look so diff now like i actually hate how i look when i met them but that’s beside the point 😭😭 but they all looked sooooo good. also for reference im about 5’3-5’4ish.

show-wise, it was sm more fun than the versus tour tbh. i got to see yung pleit perform and he opened w miss me and everyone was going insaneeeee. i was literally like one person behind the baracade, i was so close it was so so so cool. the triplets went on for maybe twenty minutes but they read the question i asked them which was so cool. and mary lou, jimmy, justin, and nate were all at my show!! they were on the balcony above the stage and were waving to us it was so cute. i had such a fun time at this show i wish i could go back

10/9/23 - the versus tour

this show was soooooo so so so special to me. i was going through a really really hard time. and this show made me so happy and gave me such a nice break from everything. this show wasn’t as close as the first show so i went to with my mom (she was team orange lol). i also got to meet some old online friends i made which was so nice :,) like the last tour, i got pre-show small talk. my only complaint though is that when i bought tickets backstage wasn’t available, some friends and i called the venue and they told us there was no backstage , but there actually was :( but im still sooooo grateful i got to meet them!

the order was the same as last time- chris, matt, then nick. i was so nervous about meeting them again, i literally almost forgot to take a pic w chris LMFAO. he was so sweet, he asked me how i was doing, if i was excited, all that good stuff. this time was a lot more rushed than the first, but i still got a decent amount of time with each triplet. i also got them each to draw me my fav angel numbers to get tattooed, i still haven’t gotten it yet but when i do i’ll post it :)

i was sooo nervous to meet matt again lmfao but as soon as i went up to him i felt fine. i complemented his outfit (he had on his white eeyore jacket 😭😭 so cute) and we took our picture and when i was leaving he told me it was rlly nice to meet me :,)) he is sooooooo pretty irl like his eyes r so blue and his earrings r so sparkly i was literally like in a trance. omfg.

nick was soo sweet he gave me such a big hug and was so smiley and asked how i was doing, same as chris. he also rested his head on mine when we took our pic togetherrr. he was so so kind.

my show was a monday so they had uploaded a podcast while i was on line for the red carpet, so i listened to that a bit while waiting. this tour we had pre-picked poses, but i did the hearts again. i stood in between matt and chris, and i said i wanted hearts and matt immediately did half the heart and put his arm around me so we did the heart tgth 😭😭

lowk not a fan of this pic either but :( so sweet. i love them so much. i also wore platform shoes this time lol so that gave me some height.

the show was so good! so much more entertaining than what the triplets did the first time. it was very engaging, and so fun to watch. lowk bitter i didn’t get picked to be matt’s teammate but we move. anyway. each challenge was so fun, me and my friend knew almost all the trivia questions they did 😭😭 and jenga was sooo stressful to watch lmfao it was so close the whole time, i think we had one of the longest jenga shows of the tour lmfao. chris ended up winning bc matt dropped the jenga tower and they were both tied. it was such a fun experience im so grateful to have gone !

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo

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lumibuns-blog · 1 year

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Guys new ep dropped and my obsession is fueled

First "date" with Satouru Gojo

Shoko is incredibly confused when she walks into your dorm and sees you in a cute sun dress getting your hair put up all cute on a Friday right after class.

"Yo y/n ya going somewhere?" She says lazily

"Oh yeah Gojo invited me out to get some sweets with him today" you beam

Shoko is no longer tired

"Wait wait wait you're what?!?" She stammers grabbing your shoulders

"Like I said Gojo invited me out to get some food" you repeat

"Wait so...Gojo...Gojo Satouru...invited you....on a date?!?!" She said in disbelief

"It's not a date Shoko, and why is this such a surprise" you giggle

"It's just that Gojo is so....bleh and you...you're...we'll just look at you" she says gesturing to your cute outfit and adorable smile "Oh my god I've gotta tell Utahime" she exclaimed pulling out her phone

Within minutes Utahime was informed on the situation and breaking down your door

"Y/N YOU CAN'T, NOT WITH AN IDIOT LIKE HIM" she yells

"You guys" you say blushing "thank you for worrying about me really, but there's nothing to worry about. Gojo might be a bit childish but he never makes me feel uncomfortable and he's definitely never mean, really he just makes me laugh" you say beaming just thinking about him, you have to remind yourself it's not a date.

'Wait' Utahime and Shoko think simultaneously, are you getting special treatment, why is Gojo not being an ass to you specifically??

Shoko pulls her senior down to whisper in her ear "look I know he's an idiot but you should see the way he looks at her, let's let them give it a try. I don't think it will go bad"

"Fine but if anything happens to her I'll kill him myself"

"Good luck" Shoko chuckles

The two decide to let you go on the date after all and as they watch you walk out of the Jujitsu tech campus gate they can only hope he doesn't mess everything up.

Minutes, then hours pass, as the sun dips below the clouds your friends still wait for you.

"He better not think about doing anything funny" Utahime grumbles

"Hey give him some credit" Shoko responds

Suddenly they see two shadows walking into view, one much taller than the other.

"FINALLY GOJO IF YOU EVEN-" Utahime is cut off by Shoko's hand covering her mouth

"Just look" she smiles

They can clearly see Gojo smiling from ear to ear, peering at you from over his sunglasses as he hands you another mochi from the package. You're smiling up at him, eyes closed without a care in the world as you take the mochi and have a bite before handing it back to him insisting he try. He blushes and looks away before taking the treat from you and plopping in into his mouth.

He looks at the way the setting sun illuminates your face and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ears to see more of your gorgeous face. You two look at each other like you're the only people in the world.

"Will you allow it??" Shoko questions

"Maybe"

*my inbox is open<3*

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dead-boys-club · 1 month

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† jingle jingle : sunday.

❥ scenario: just testing the attention of birds ❥ no triggers; not rated. ❥ technically, half beta'd ❥ not requested; not even a serious post.

❥ i will gladly catch all the hands in my inbox.

the room was quiet, the only sound being the faint ticking of a clock off in the distance. sunday sat across from you, his presence still and just as silent. the two of you had spent countless hours together like this, comfortable in each other's presence without the need for constant conversation and interaction.

your etes drifted over to him, taking in the way his hair framed his face and his gaze seemed to be lost in thought. there was something about sunday that always made you curious, mysteries that you felt you'd never get the answers to.

'sunday,' you began, almost hesitant to break the silence. he turned his head slightly, acknowledging you with just a faint hum.

'you're familiar with ravens,' you said, a tiny smile showing. 'you know, they have a strange love for jingly, shiny things..'

he blinked, a little surprised by the sudden topic, the faintest hint of curiosity flickering in his usually impassive eyes. 'i've heard of it, yes,' he replied, voice calm. 'ravens are intelligent creatures, drawn to things that catch their eye. they collect them, sometimes even trading them with other ravens and, rarely, people.'

you nodded. 'exactly. it's like they can't resist things that are sparkly or make noise. it's kind of cute.'

sunday watched you, as if trying to discern the intent behind your sudden inquiry. when you quieted down and seemed to drop it, he went back to what he was doing; it didn't last long, however. you reached into your pocket, fingers closing around something smooth and metallic.

without a word, you held up the shiny trinket - a silver bell that caught the light in just the right way - and gave it a gentle shake. the soft jingle echoed in the quiet room, and you watched closely, eyes twinkling with mischief and curiosity.

lifting his head, swayed by the sound, his expression showed a mic of amusement and perplexity. 'and.. what exactly are you doing?' he asked, though no real annoyance to his words.

'just testing out a theory,' you replied, shaking the bell again, filling the space between you. 'wondering if it was true or not.'

his lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but it was gone in a blink. 'so, you think of me like a raven, then?'

you shrugged, smile turning into a grin. 'i mean, it did get your attention. you're mysterious and intelligent.. you seem to have an interest in the unusual. i wanted to see if you shared their love for shiny things, as well.'

for a minute, sunday just stared at you, eyes unreadable. without warning, he leaned forward, hand reaching out to gently collect the bell from your grasp. he held it up, examining it with a contemplative look before giving it a shake of his own, kind of liking the soft ringing.

'interesting,' he whispered, gaze flickering back to you. 'but, it seems you're the one who enjoys these little games more than i do.'

you laughed, the sound warm and light in the still room. 'maybe so,' you admitted, following his movements as he placed the bell back in your hand, his touch lingering momentarily.

'but,' he added, voice softening the tiniest bit, 'i appreciate the distraction. it's not.. unwelcome.'

the two of you fell back into the silence, though this time, it seemed like there was a new warmth and understanding between you, the shared moment of light-heartedness softening the stillness. you gave the bell one last shake, the sound now feeling like a private joke of sorts.

in the quiet, you couldn't help but wonder.. perhaps, you'd managed to catch the attention of this particular raven after all.

#hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #honkai sr #honkai star rail #sunday hsr #sunday x reader #honkai sr sunday

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elllisaaa · 2 months

Note

heyheyhey~ just saw that you want your inbox to come alive again, so here i am! i just had this nasty thought of heeseung, shy, gentle, timid heeseung being nervous around you. he's never beat his meat before and is kinda embarrassed about being inexperienced in this field. so you decided to help him, throwing him into the world of pure pleasure. heeseung gets so overwhelmed but obsessed with it..

BLESSED - L. HEESEUNG

-> pairing : inexperienced!heeseung x fem!reader

-> words count : 1.4k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : sub!heeseung & dom!reader, teasing, dirty talk, praising, unprotected sex, creampie, riding, dry humping, use of 'good boy', mention of oral (f. receiving), begging

+ the way i'm depicting heeseung does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction.

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language

-> author's note : yes omggg i love loser/inexperienced!enha it's literally my favourite concept ever i'm so glad i'm the only one to be thinking about it ! might have an idea for a full fic because of this too 😏 sorry i went a little overboard but the thought drove me crazy. hope you'll like it !

-> masterlist | enha masterlist

INEXPERIENCED!HEESEUNG who so badly wants to have his first time but who cannot, for the life of him, talk to a girl without losing his composure. he's so fucking awkward that at this point, he's convinced that he's going to end his last year of college without having done more than makeout with a stranger at a frat party.

INEXPERIENCED!HEESEUNG who is kinda obsessed with you. you're one of sunghoon's friend, but you're also the prettiest girl he's ever seen. his thoughts are innocent at first - he wants to take you out on a date, hold your hands and be your boyfriend. but the more he sees you, the more perverted he gets. heeseung constantly thinks about fucking you, about seeing you naked and sucking on your tits. it's disgusting and he knows it, but he can't help it.

INEXPERIENCED!HEESEUNG who, despite his obvious attraction to you, cannot talk to you or hold your gaze for more than a few seconds. everytime he crosses your eyes, his cheeks heat up and he's so nervous he stumbles over his words every so often. he's pathetic, and he knows it, and there's no hope that you'll ever look his way and want him as much as he wants you.

but despite what heeseung thinks, you find him cute - it's cute how anxious he is around you, and how he can't help but stare at you during your shared classes or when you see him from afar at one of the parties his friends drag him too. you think he's cute, and you're only waiting for him to make a move on you, because all you want is to jump his bones.

"i've never fucked anyone." all the people in the circle scoff at the question one of the girls asked, a little too innocent to your taste as everyone in the circle drinks except for one person. everyone is already drunk, and no one except you notices that heeseung didn't take a sip of the cup in front of him, his cheeks getting even more red as he notes that you saw that.

"so you're a virgin ?" the question is thrown at him so suddenly, heeseung jumps and turns around to discover your silhouette hugged by a tight, black dress, leaning against the door of the kitchen. you're alone with him, and you're asking him that ? his brain immediately stops working despite his embarrassment. "i… uh… yeah. if you're here to make fun of me-" - "not at all, heeseung, i'm not that cruel." you interrupt him as you slowly get closer to him. heeseung wants to ask you what you want from him, but he feels a little dizzy from the alcohol he drank and from your presence alone, in the same room as him, your body so close to his you're almost touching. but your next words are what really send him into a coma : "i want to help you."

his eyes open wide, mouth hanging open for so long you lightly chuckle, and the sound makes heeseung's heart beat faster. but what truly amaze him is your hand coming up to caress his cheek. and he can't believe this is real and not a dream. "don't look at me like that, it seems like i told you something awful." - "n-no ! it's just… i…" but heeseung can't find any words to describe the way he's already half hard in his pants at the mere suggestion of you and him in the same bed. "don't you want me to teach you how to make me cum ? don't you want to fuck me ? i'm not blind, baby, i see the way you're checking me out all the time." heeseung is torn between being ashamed that you were aware of his perverted behaviour all this time, or being even more turned on by your proposal. "so, do you want me to teach you everything or not ?" - "fuck, yes, i do."

you lead heeseung upstairs to one of the rooms of the frat that he doesn't recognize but at this point he doesn't care because you're already pushing him down to sit on the bed, straddling his thighs. heeseung looks at you like you're a goddess, and you smile down at him when he hesitates on where to put his hands. you grab his wrists and guide his hands to land on your ass. as if you awakened something in him, heeseung squeezes the soft flesh over your clothes, making you gasp. "good boy. you're a quick learner." - "tell me and i'll do anything."

heeseung is anxious, but the adrenaline of having his crush, the girl of his dream, the most gorgeous woman on the world sitting on his lap and devouring his mouth is taking over him. he can't help but feel pathetic at the way he's moaning in your mouth as you're grinding against his already rock hard dick. "sure that's your first time, hee ?" - "yeah, why ?" - "you're good kisser, think you could really eat me out well with a little bit of practice." heeseung invonluntarily buck his hips up against you, whining against your lips at the mere mention of your wet cunt in his mouth. but for now, you only want to give him the time of his life.

"take off your clothes, baby. you're gonna let me fuck you, right ?" heeseung never answered "yes" so quickly in his life, making you giggle as you watch him fight with his sweater to get out of it. he is so excited that the embarrassment is slowly dying. when he lays back down on the bed, you have gotten rid of your dress, only left with your black underwear and heeseung is already drooling over your body. if someone had told him that he would see you half naked this morning, he would've told them that they were crazy.

"you're perfect, fuck…" - "thank you. you look good too, hee. never thought you could hide such a body underneath all these clothes, uh ?" his cheeks turn bright red again as you praise him - at least, all these hours spent at the gym are worth it now - and start to run your fingers along his skin. you smirk at seeing the shivers come alive on his body and his cock twitch at the soft contact.

as you're getting out of your underwear, heeseung still has the mind to ask you about protection. "wait, wait ! i-i don't have any condoms on me." he looks away, and you laugh at how red he is. you cup his face to direct his gaze back at yours. "if you're okay with that, you can fuck me raw, hee." heeseung has to close his eyes and bite his lips not to moan at the mention of feeling your pussy without any barrier. "please, please, let me have you like that." - "no need to beg baby, you're gonna have me."

you get on top of him, sliding your pussy against his cock to get him all wet with your slick. it is something straight out of his wildest fantasies - to have you lining up his dick to your hole and sinking down on him. "f-fuck ! you're so tight… feels so good…" the smirk stretching out your lips at seeing him gone already is even more sexy to him. you are going to have so much fun with him, that's for sure.

"i'm gonna move, yeah ?" heeseung nodded, his hands resting on your waist but not guiding you in any way. you slowly start to rock your hips back and forth, and the boy underneath you immediately moans, overwhelmed by the feeling of your warm hole swallowing his dick. he never imagined that he could have the girl of his dreams, bouncing on his dick. but here he is, and it feels so good he wonders why he waited so long to lose his virginity.

"please, please, please…" heeseung is begging, but he doesn't even know what he's begging for anymore. he's lost in the feeling of your wet cunt, of your tits bouncing in front of his face and of your little whimpers. "you're so big, hee. filling me up so well." your nasty words are all he needs to cum deep inside of you, painting your walls white with a broken cry of your name.

"you're good ?" - "fuck, yeah." heeseung answers with a content sigh. he already knows that he will never get enough of you, but now he needs to return the favor, needs to show you that he's willing to fulfill your desires too. "can i eat you out ? please, teach me." you look down at him with a smirk. his eagerness is definitely turning you on and you are sure that with some practice, he will become very good at pleasing you and only you.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

enha taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@bbgnyx @hann1bee @snouvllvg @puppy-minnie @binniesbabygirl @foxinnie8

#eli answering your questions #eli's anonie #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enha smut #enha x reader #enha hard hours #enha hard thoughts #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung hard hours #lee heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts

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sterredem · 3 months

Text

The adoption

Olivia Rodrigo x Fem!Driver!Ferrari!Reader

Face claim Pinterest girls

Warning fluff, not proofread, spelling mistakes (if you can’t handle it DONT READ IT! I have had enough people come in my inbox complaining about that. So if you know you can’t handle spelling mistakes or mistakes in sentences don’t read!)

Summary Olivia gives her girlfriend a gift for their anniversary.

Kind of a part 2 to this. It can be read as a stand alone

A/N short and rushed but I think it is cute. Again sorry for any mistakes. Really sorry that it is short but I didn’t have any more inspiration😭 this is more of ablution than a fic. I will also post a bit more of these short blurbs in this universe.

Don’t forget to reblog and comments! It helps a lot!

Real life

Adopting a dog or a cat was always something Y/n had wanted. And now that she was finally public with Olivia she had devoted that she wanted to finally do it. The reason that she waited being that she didn’t want to be found out by the public because of a dog (or cat).

So she talked about it with Olivia and her girlfriend immediately agreed to the idea, wanting some company for herself while Y/n is away doing her job.

And now that more people on the gird have dogs they thought it was the perfect timing, that being so that their dog could socialise with others.

And that is how Olivia and Y/n ended up on the coach in their home in Monaco (well more Y/n’a home but Olivia had practically moved in) on a free weekend, searching on their computer for any potential doggs.

When either of them found any options they would show each other and put it on a list with links in their notes app, they knew that getting a dog could not happen in one second, so they took their time to see what kind they wanted and to find the perfect one.

So once they did finally found ‘the one’ they decided to message the person responsible and see if they could adopt the dog. And while Y/n really wanted to be with Olivia while she handles the last things with adoptions and picking the puppy up, she couldn’t. Because she, sadly, had a race.

So Y/n secured to let Olivia handle the last things, with her having the most time in between shows and Y/n having to go to the factory and do training so not having any time to do all that.

And after a few weeks of waiting Y/n has kind of forgotten to the task that she has put Olivia on. And while Y/n forgot, Olivia didn’t.

Olivia has scoured the internet to search for any dog that they would like. And she found the one. So while Y/n had forgotten her girlfriend had had contact with a breeder and had done a lot of research. And she had devoted that she wanted to give the dog to Y/n on their anniversary, which would be in a few days.

So Olivia had fixed everything: food, toys, a place for the dog and, of course, the dog itself. Which was going to be a markiesje, a black one.

And then it was the time. It was their anniversary! They begun the day with a going out to eat breakfast (they were both to lazy to make food). Once they got back they relaxed and then it was time. Olivia had made a cover story for why they would need to go away; so she had said that they were going to eat somewhere and that it would be a surprise.

Unbeknownst to Y/n they were actually picking up their new dog.

Olivia had days that she needed to go inside to check something so Y/n had stayed in the car. Olivia had also fixed that they could pick the dog up in a place where a lot of good food places were so that her girlfriend wouldn’t get suspicious.

So once Olivia got back to the car with a little basket Y/n was beginning to question things.

Olivia got in the car and sat the basket on het lap.

“So… I may have lied a bit.” She said. “We will not be eating or going out eating. But… I did a lot of research after we talked a couple of weeks ago. And o finally got in contact with a breeder. I did a lot if research of which one was good and which one wasn’t. And they seemed to be legit. So I bought a dog. We still have to pick out a name.” Olivia ranted on. She was to nervous to look at her girlfriend reaction so she began ranting again. “We still need to pick out a name, but I thought you should get to do that. It is also your anniversary gift and-“ she was cut of.

In the kids of her ranting Y/n leaned over and gave her a kiss. “This is amazing baby! But do I get to see the dog now?” The girl asked.

Olivia blushed a bit and have the basket to her girlfriend. Y/n opened it and saw the cutest dog ever. It was a girl. “What should I name you?” She asked in a baby voice. “What about daisy?” She said while looking at Olivia.

The other girl nodded.

Daisy it was. Their new baby.

|———————————<3—————————————|

Instagram

OliviaRodrigo and Yourusername

Liked by SabrinaCarpenter and 4.736.936 others

Yourusername Meet my new baby; Daisy! Thank you my love for giving me this AMAZING anniversary gift💕❤️🫶

View all 19.836 comments

SabrinaCarpenter The cutest💕 liked by author

Alexandrasaintmleux Play date with Leo when?

Yourusername I’ll message you

LewisHamilton more dogs on the grid!👍

Yourusername Always good!

OliviaRodrigo Daisy 🌼💕

Yourusername 🌼💕

User1 PARENTS AFW PARENTS!!

User2 So cuteeee

User3 hey google! How can I be reincarnated as a dog?

User4 I have the same dog!

User5 not the dog owners of the grid in the comments😭😭

User6 Mothers!! (Literally)

User7 Happy anniversary!

User8 a baby when?

User9 they are only together for a year relax!

User10 Now I want a dog🫠

User11 Daisy is sucks cute name!

User12 I am going to convince my parents with this post to get a dog!

User13 will we now get more Olivia appearances in the paddock with Daisy?!?! That would be amazing!!!

|———————————<3—————————————|

166 notes · View notes

angelisverba · 2 years

Text

kryptonite

in which y/n smokes weed (sometimes) and she thinks her dealer is super cute, and harry always gives her a little extra because she’s sweet

word count: 8.2k

pairing: plug!h and y/n

warning: if you are uncomfortable with the use of drugs, please do not continue reading!! i DO NOT want to see any messages in my inbox that talk of ‘glamourizing’ this drug. if you don’t like it-> don’t read it. mentions of bullying, peer pressure,

author’s notes: the second and final part to this fic will be posted next week, feb. 02 at 8am pst.

* * * * * * *

Harry hated parties.

Admittedly, they were a third of his source of income, but unless it wasn’t a gathering exclusively composed of his close circle, he didn’t want anything to do with it. They were too loud and sticky, messy and smelly. Red solo-cups littered at every available corner, half filled with Coca-cola, vodka, and the occasional sad, cigarette butt. Scantily clad girls and ‘discreet’ boys that didn’t know how to read body language that clearly screamed ‘I’M NOT INTERESTED!’. It just all got his nerves because half the time he knew they were only using him to get reduced prices on the marijuana he spent ample time on growing.

He tried, as a general rule, to limit his reluctant, brooding attendance to parties he knew would only consist of Mitch, Sarah, Adam, and the handful of other friends that just wanted to have a good time and a nice snuggle on a cramped couch that rumbled with intoxicated laughter. He liked being in a crowd he knew, it was much more intimate, less pressure-filled. He didn’t have to maintain that ‘polite’ air that was socially required in an atmosphere of people he didn’t know. No niceties or complimentary. When it was just him and his friends, all of that ‘quiet’ and ‘please, thank you’ shit wasn’t necessary. He could jump straight to his affectionate, giggly, sprawling-all-over-everyone’s-lap self, and no one would question it because they know it’s what he preferred.

But, at a big house party like the one where he was at, where everyone knew him as The One Guy Who Sells The Good Shit, Harry had to pretend to be polite and quiet and small, and adopt an overall stiff persona that made him prickly and cold. This wasn’t him. He didn’t like this, and wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for his very convincing friend Mitch, who noticed that business was slow and assured him that he was bound to 1) ‘sell a shit-ton’ and 2) gather a handful of new clients once they realized that what he had to dispense was pretty good quality for a subjectively cheap price.

Mitch had been right, of course.

The small black backpack of goodies that Harry had brought to this inconspicuous function had been empty in less than two hours, and he’d repeated his number enough times that it started to feel forgein on his tongue. Once or twice, a few girls had flashed him what could be called ‘bedroom eyes’, but he wasn’t in the mood to get his rocks off. When he came with a purpose to sell, any need, want, or hope for sex flew out of the window because then he ran the risk of girls thinking their ‘connection’ entitled them to some sort of discount on weed, and he didn’t particularly fancy ruining his post-coitous bliss with the awkward exchange of rejection that followed their questions.

Plus, it made him feel used.

A good three hours have passed, and he’s about to tell Mitch he’s ready to leave when his line of sight is snagged on the diamond image- no, a beautifully deceiving mirage, because there’s no way this girl is real. Not when she looks like a ditzy sprite, a walking mermaid, a glimmering fairy, a heart-wrenching siren, and any other bewitching, ethereal creatures that stole men’s souls upon the first breath they took in their presence. She looked like one of his psychedelic hallucinations that whispered sweet things to him and played with the ends of his hair when he’s in the lull of shrooms, brought to life. Grounded, real, and three-dimensional, not just in the airy, green-leafed recesses of his muddled mind.

This pretty little enchantment that caught his eye had floated into the room on two clumsy, shoddy-sneaker covered feet that extended from bambi-like legs with knees that were almost comically knocking against one another. She walked slanted, her shoulder pressed against her friend’s, whom Harry might have been able to recognize as Sarah if he spared his gaze, but that was impossible. So, he thought to himself, this is how magnets work? Even if he wanted to, he knew he wouldn’t be able to dislocate his line of sight from the socket it had carved itself into. Her cheeks, rounded with laughter and smiles, were dusted with the telling, glimmering sheen created by alcohol, and her eyes were bright, shiny, and starry from the handful of lamps that lit the living room. The slope of her waist, semi-shrouded deliciously from the billowy fabric of her powder blue summer dress (he couldn’t fucking believe she was wearing a dress when it was windy outside. Did she not care for her health?) and it made him think of the marvelous illusions created from marble. He was fond of going to museums and staring- for hours, at times- at statues of women draped in silk that were replicated with such precision, it was almost as if the wind was right there, rippling against the tantalizing figure of the unidentified female, so much so that an man was inspired to share his tortured vision. In solid form, nonetheless.

It made him wonder what the artist could see in real life. What they envisioned the model to be like underneath the heavenly fibers that twisted and turned restlessly with running air, preventing a clear grasp on the body underneath. Spurred to the point of such desolation, left with a hunger to resurrect what their mind’s eye consumed in physical format to live on forever and torment anyone else who looked.

He understood then. Understood that hunger and want for more.

She spun prettily like one of those ceramic ballerinas in a golden music box owned by children of important people, and that damn dress was both too loose and too free, moving around her with a protective fluidity from hungry, lovelorn wolves like him. He can’t hear her clearly because he’s too far away, but the snippets of her laugh that his ears manage to funnel down to his eardrums sound like a fairy’s tinkle.

She is a dream. Head thrown back before she replies with such enthusiasm and a strange half-lucidity that it has him leaning in to try and hear the drunken words that escape her soundless lips. He’s stuck in a moment of frozen time with her and only her. There’s a pinch behind his sternum when her head moves in his direction, and a strong titanic-worthy sink when she stops before even reaching his gaze. The words of some pop song from the early 2000’s skim cheesily through the background of his brain like a lonesome draft. Where have you been all my life?

Tunnel vision, he believes it might be called.

Next to him, Mitch bumps his shoulder, shattering his dangerously sharp focus with mumbled words that Harry doesn’t quite register with complete comprehension because they sound warped, as if they were spoken through a thick layer of glass or from underwater.

“What?” He blinks, his eyes stuck on her but his head rotated enough to the side that his friend knows he’s listening. He’s afraid that if he stops looking, or even blinks, she'll evaporate into thin air and he’ll spend the rest of his life wondering if she really was a mythical being conjured from his second-hand high.

Mitch clears his throat and hides a knowing twitch of his mouth beneath the rim of his drink, “I said her name is y/n.”

Harry, distracted and oblivious, is unaware that Mitch caught on to the focus of his attention, asks, “Who?”

This time, he can’t help but huff a chuckle, “This girl, H. Her name is y/n. She just started working with Sarah. Sarah says she keeps to herself, but there’s been a bit of… bullying, so she invited her out for a good time.”

“Bullying?” A faucet of anger opens in his major arteries and replaces his blood with a river of internalized rage. Bullying? Bullying her? His head whips around with enough speed to crack the vertebrae in his neck, and his thick brows furrowed with a fierce expression that would scare anyone that looked at him then (Mitch being exempt because he knew there would be no harm coming from that look). “What do y’mean bullying?” He spits the word out like it tastes foul.

Mitch takes another sip from the red solo cup, taking time to compose his face before continuing casually, “yeah. Y/n’s new, sweet, and quiet. Sarah says the others at work think that she’s their personal coffee runner or something. She tries to help her when she can, but she's not always around ‘cause of meetings or whatever.”

Harry sucks on his teeth and shakes his head, twisting again to observe y/n with mooney eyes, bitterness still simmering within him at the treatment she receives at her workplace. Especially when the smile he was so fortunate to witness made him taste caramel and honey and peach nectar and all of the sweet treats that traversed through his esophagus when the munchies hit. It warmed him to finally have a lovely name to attach to a lovely name.

Y/n. It settled nicely in his inner monologue, and he wanted to speak it. Test it on his tongue to see if it molded his lips as nicely as he imagined it would. It fit her, he thought. Y/n. Weirdly, Harry itched to throw it casually in a conversation with her. An exclamation. A wheezed whisper in the middle of a breathless laugh. In a greeting. In a goodbye. To grab her attention. To console. It was ridiculous! He didn’t even know her but he wanted, badly, for this party to transform into one of the more comfortable ones he had with his friends. For her to sit next to him on the couch his arm around the space behind her as she leaned into him unconsciously as the conversation continued. To grab her bicep in a nervous giggle when he stumbled after one too many. To share a bowl of chips with her (lime was his favorite, but he would eat barbecue flavored ones- his least favorite- if they were hers).

“Whose-”a burp, “motorcycle is blocking the driveway?!”

A clearly drunk male slurred from the front of the house, an arm raised as he swayed in a half-assed attempt to grab everyone’s attention, the drink in his hand sloshing onto the carpet and Harry winced, half from being startled and half from the suddenly stiffness that came with several pairs of eyes landing his way.

“Sorry, mate. That would be me.” He raised a finger in the air and bent at the waist to deposit his unfinished drink on a low black coffee table by his knees. He shrugged, rolling his lips into his mouth and turning to Mitch with his shoulders lifting with the beginnings of a hug, “‘was just gonna leave, anyway.”

“Early night, H?” Mitch mumbled, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek while embracing his friend, the ghost of a laugh lingering in his nasal passage. Harry’s cheeks turned a light pink and his nostrils flared in his attempt to hide his smile.

“Yup.” Harry returned the kiss, his nose digging onto the scruff of Mitch’s cheek, tickling him. Stepping back from their show of affection, he patted his palms against his thigh to make sure he had his phone and keys, and tugged the strap of the small backpack on his shoulder to verify it’s presence.

Mitch resumed his leaning position against the door frame, hand in his pocket, “alright. Text me when you get home.”

“‘Course.” Sparing one last glance in the charming sprite’s direction as he said his final goodbye, he was devastated to find that she had, in fact, disappeared, just as he’d feared.

He almost stayed to find her and watch over y/n like some sort of guardian angel, but he didn’t have the guts to go up to her. He hadn’t even finished one drink, so liquid courage wasn’t there to help him, not when he had to ride his motorcycle home. He almost asked Mitch to keep an eye on her for him, but it wasn’t necessary. Sarah was with her, and therefore he’s already watching her.

And from the comforting, yet teasing, twinkle in his friend’s eyes told Harry everything he needed to know. He knew that he was well on his way to cracking his head open over his heels.

Their friendship had always been one of little words.

******

Harry’s been delivering weed for a while now.

What started as a side hustle to obtain much needed income when times were tough developed into an interesting near full-time job with amazing results and benefits (he got to smoke weed for free now, since he grew it himself, but there was always that whole ‘don’t get high off your own supply’ rule, so he did limit himself). He had thought that he would have trouble attaining customers, but word spread like wildfire amongst his close circle of friends, which all happened to be free spirited individuals that harnessed the powers of nature, and then their friends, trusted friends, and so on and so forth.

It got to a point where he needed a separate phone for dealing alone because the ‘rush hour’ would meddle with his personal texts, leading to frequent ‘wrong person’ texts, and he traded his crappy car for a decent motorcycle so he could get to drop-off locations quicker. The added ‘badass’ effect also stroked his ego, so it was a wonderful bonus.

But the annoyance of being interrupted in the middle of something like, let’s say… an episode of Hannibal with a warm bowl of buttered popcorn in his lap always came in the same frustrating amounts.

Like now.

The Netflix screen pauses on Mads Mikkelsen’s face, spouting some bullshit about a tea cup, when his phone dings with a new notification. The sound is a specifically selected ‘ding!’ that is different from his personal phone so it’s easier to differentiate the purpose of the incoming message, and a rumbling groan vibrates from the back of his throat. Throwing his head back against his beat up, brown leather couch, Harry slams his hand around him until his ringed fingers click against the sleek device, and it automatically lights up as he brings it up to his face.

Unknown Number: Hi! Mitch gave me this number and said I’d be able to buy some pre-rolls?

Fucking Mitch. He often passes the number off to his buddies at the record store he works at. The dude started typing again, and the grey bubble with three dots wiggles at the bottom corner of the new text chat. Harry waited.

Unknown Number: If it’s too late for you, I understand.

It was, in fact, too late for him. But, money was money. He technically wasn’t doing anything important, so he would go and deliver to this-

Unknown Number: My name is y/n, by the way :D

Not a dude.

Fuck.

Not a dude.

The popcorn went flying off his chest and spilled all over the floor as he jumped up from his seat. Fuck. Y/n? Y/n with a smiley face. The girl from the party? His heart came to a stuttering stop, screeching like tired on asphalt breaking at a high speed as he came to the realization. The girl has haunted him like a stubborn will ‘o wisp for the past week was texting him. Albeit, it is for a service, but it was still something. The marijuana aspect of his situation didn’t bother him. He sold and consumed, it would be hypocritical of him if it did. Besides, she was an adult. She could do what she liked.

His jaw is on the floor, his eyes popping out of his head and he can’t believe what’s happening to him at that moment. He’d kiss Mitch on the mouth next time he saw him. It’s not until he sees the grey bubbles appear and disappear quickly again that he remembers the normal, usual response to this kind of situation is to type back. With trembling fingers, he pressed on keys, tapped on the backspace button, and repeated those motions several times because he had no idea what he was supposed to say- no, what was right to say to her. He had a standard response when it came to people who wanted to buy from him, but sending her prewritten message in his notes app that consisted of a short, perfunctory greeting followed by a menu-structured list of what he had available that day and their prices. There was no way in hell he’d send that to her.

Harry: Hello! It’s not too late for me to deliver. What can I help you with?

Unknown Number: Mitch mentioned that you offered a 2 for $35 deal?

Unknown Number: Is that still available?

Harry did offer a two-joint for thirty five bucks deal. Pre-rolled joints in cherry rolling paper about as long as his middle finger to the halfway point of his palm, semi-thickly packed with a hybrid blend of the two Mary-Jane plants (Sativa and Indica, none of that Maui Wowie, Blue Dream, or other strains; he liked to keep it simple) he had in a specially insulated box in the garage attached to the house he rented. It was his most popular sell; decent amount, excellent high, excellent trip. But… two? Was she smoking with someone else? Or was she saving one for a later time? He didn’t think she was the type to smoke two at once, but then again he didn’t know her, so her reasons were unclear to him.

However, if he arrived at her location and she was with someone (a male, specifically) his night would be ruined, because then that would mean that any marginal chance that he had with her was out of the question. And he couldn’t ask her right away because they hadn’t even properly met yet, and that would be weird and rude. That didn’t help his overthinking tendencies, and in a matter of seconds, Harry was sitting at the edge of his couch, popcorn crunching underneath his butt as a frown settled on his handsome features. Jaw set, lips puckered in contemplation with a pinch between his drawn eyebrows that casted shadows over his emerald eyes. He looked menacing, and his smattering collection of tattoos didn’t help either.

Or his motorcycle.

Or the intimidating stigma that came with his title of ‘plug’.

Stubborn as he was, this look of ‘don’t fucking talk to me’ would stay with him for the rest of the night, all because he couldn’t restrain himself from coming to incorrect conclusions. He didn’t know if y/n had a boyfriend, if she was with a friend, or if she would even be interest in him, but the sour thoughts that she did have a boyfriend and wouldn’t be interested in a ‘lowlife’ drug dealer loomed over him like a murky, stormy, thundering clouds.

He sent his response and changed her contact name.

Harry: I do!

Harry: Did you want to see the rest of the menu or are you set?

He knew he was being short with her. His messages were missing their customary smiley faces, the extra exclamation marks, the occasional x’s and o’s. He didn’t even type with capitalized letters, but in order to refrain from diving even further into this hole of hope, he decided that the change in his style of grammar would help him become emotionally distant. He just couldn’t bring himself to add them while he was in a stubborn, self-induced slump. While he looked angry, glittery butterflies beat their cellophane wings inside his ribcage and shook magical glitter onto his intestines, making them warm and queasy.

Y/n: I think that’ll be all for tonight

The causal mention of ‘for tonight’ gives him hope. That implied there would be other nights, and even though he’s currently grumpy because relationships are fucking complicated, he wanted to see her again and again.

Harry: Send your address, please.

She sends her location.

Harry: I’ll be there in 15 minutes.

Since he’s already half dressed in black jeans and a white Fruit of the Loom t-shirt from his earlier afternoon deliveries, he only has to part the crystal bead curtain in the doorframe of his living room to grab the leather jacket hanging from a bright yellow coat rack besides his door, and the backpack that he left in a slump besides his shoes (already packed with goods). He doesn’t think twice about the popcorn that’s scattered all over his floor and couch or that the Netflix “are you still there?” screen blinks black when he picks up his keys from the hook next to his door.

The garage opened when he pressed the button inside the kitchen hall, and he stepped out through the side door leading to the space where he kept his motorcycle. The owners before him had left a shit-load of junk that had taken up most of the space, and with their permission, he sold and threw most of it away. For the most part, it was empty. A bench, some boxes, and the white-refrigerator like rectangular box underneath the worktable along with his ride were the only things in there.

Grumbling and pouting like a petulant child, Harry clipped on his black helmet, flipped the visor down with two slender fingers, and dropped the backpack into the compartment attached to the backseat. A button on his keys closed the garage door behind him as he kicked aside the stand and swerved with a screech onto the road, the night air wrapping around bare throat as he cut through at a higher velocity than was surely legal on a residential street, but he didn’t see it as a crime when the heart was involved. He could picture himself explaining to the officer that pulled hi over in a hypothetical situation, that he was on his way to deliver drugs to the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and the officer nodding solemnly at his noble cause.

Totally realistic.

Cars honked when he cut them off abruptly, and he gathered stares from the handful of people that were still wandering along the streets, spilling out at random intervals from bars. He had to cut through bits of the city to get to where she lived, and the three red lights that stalled his perusal were lucky that they were government property or else he would have damaged them in a severe fit of impatient rage. He tapped the tips of his shit-colored vans against the road and clenched his ringed fingers around the handlebars, engine roaring with pending release. He should have grabbed leather gloves, he thinks, if not to impress her, then at least to keep his fingers warm because it was an especially chilly night.

Harry’s pulling up to a brick building in exactly fifteen minutes. There’s fire escape ladders trickling down the side, and cement stairs leading up to a brown oak door with a thin window pane slightly left ajar while a burning yellow light seeps in a long bar across the steps like a satin ribbon. Several windows are bright with light from the inside, and the spare streetlamps that cast a spotlight on the sidewalk make the street unsettling, like someone is hiding in the shadows extending from tree trunks. Harry doesn’t like it one bit, and he hopes y/n isn’t walking these streets by herself at night.

He’s simultaneously taking his helmet off and reaching for his phone in his back pocket when he hears her small peep coming from the door.

“Hi!”

And then, she’s all he can see, hear, think. She’s just as absorbing and hypnotizing as the first time he saw her, even though she’s standing in what is clearly pajamas. A long, sage knitted sweater that ends at the tips of her fingers and just above her knees, making her look like a leafy blob. Black sweatpants that are just as loose and baggy shadow the faint silhouette of her legs. Y/n is fiddling with her fingers, picking whatever color nail polish paints her nails (Harry can’t see because he’s too far away) and it makes him want to soothe her hands with his own. She’s tugging her bottom lip between her teeth and she probably doesn’t even realize that her eyebrows are furrowed and the bunch on her brow-bone casts comic-like shadows across her pretty little face.

Stupidly, because he can’t think of anything else to say other than ‘hello’ but he thinks that’s lame, he clears his throat and says, “how’d you know I was here?”

“Your… uhm- your motorcycle,” she points with a finger to the machinery beneath his bum. He’s leaning against it, not wanting to intimidate her by crowding her space in a dark-ish place but he doesn’t realize it actually makes him look very intimidating and ‘bad-boy’ looking. Especially with the leather jacket, “was kinda loud.”

“Mmm,” he hums his acknowledgement, because at that last corner he had purposefully revved the engine more than necessary. To impress her or to sate his devilish tendencies, was unclear. The space between his collarbones feels like it’s inflating and deflating with every rapid pulse of his heartbeat, and for the first time in a while, he doesn’t know where his ‘game’ is. He feels lame, at a loss for how to act around an angel when he was nowhere near her level. Hell, did this count as corruption of her innocence? He was selling her drugs for fuck’s sake.

At this realization, a heavy, sticky, nasty weight slathers itself all over his back and it can only be described as guilt. Should he be selling her weed? Should he even be morally conscious at this point? He sells weed to teenagers when he’s sure they aren’t narcs, but this wasn’t some zit-faced twerp.

This was y/n.

A few seconds of silence pass and she’s just staring at him, her lips rolling like there are words she's holding in and Harry staring at her with a closed-off expression, thick chocolate eyebrows furrowed deep in concentration because he’s memorizing every curve of her face to look back on when she wasn’t with him anymore. It’s after her first intake of breath with her mouth open that he snaps out of it and twists hurriedly to yank out the pink baggie with shiny red cherries printed on them. His current special, though he saved the decorated packaging for his closer group of friends because he knew it made them happy and he loved seeing that smile on their faces, but he wasn’t going to tell her that (and secretly he hopes it might put a dent on his irrational guilt).

“Here are y’cherry joints,” he holds it out, pinched between two fingers and his lips are a hard line as his heart beats out of his chest because- oh, god} she’s stepping closer and she smells really good and-

“‘Kay, uhm…” She takes the bag from him and mentally, Harry curses because she chooses to cup the underside of the bag and that wipes all chances of their fingers accidentally touching. She won’t meet his eyes, she’s shifty on her feet, and he doesn’t know how to tell her not to be nervous without sounding like a creep, “I’ve n-never done this before, and Mitch didn’t say if you took cash or Venmo so I brought my phone and wallet because I wasn’t sure which one you preferred.”

His heart goes through the life cycle of a dandelion. It blooms, yellow with happiness and new life breathed into his seedling soul by the sound of her voice, and transforms into the wispy tufts that fly away, ditzy and twirling from her sweet breath. All the while she holds him in her hand, smiling.

But all of these feelings are hidden away under his mask of self-preservation, writhing and squirming like worms. He gives away nothing, his eyes looking a little dead even though the in-between space where his head meets with the nape of his neck is damp with nervous sweat and he remains stiff and lazily posed against his motorcycle because he’s sure if he didn’t have that support his knees would knock together and sound like the cue ball hitting a winning shot in an empty pool hall.

Carding his hand through his unruly curls, he realizes that he should’ve styles his hair before leaving the house or foregone the helmet entirely, not caring about dying because first official impressions should be killer, and the extra harsh cut in his British drawl when he rasps, “cash is fine,” has to do with his own annoyance.

Y/n is flustered, evidence of that clearly sprawled all over her cheeks and base of her throat which he can see even in the darkness. She lifts the front end of her sweater with a paw-hand and Harry’s insides explode. Her phone and folded dollar bills are squeezed between the band of her bottoms and bare skin of her stomach. For just a second, the beautiful second in which she plucks the money from her body, he catches sight of a white, lacy bra-band that looks glorious while backdropped by the plane of her abdomen. He discovers the meaning of life and death, and wishes for a bit of both because this is torture.

The back of his mouth is drier than the sahara desert. Two tender fingers give him Holy ten and five dollar bills, and her angelic voice sings, “thank you,” when he takes it from her like a beggar.

Harry is an asshole because he can’t even respond with words only a hum of ‘mhm’ before swinging his leg over his ride and muttering a half-hearted, choked, ‘see you’ before roaring away.

****

He tries to invalidate his rapidly growing crush. Truly. He wants to brush it off his shoulder like dust because it’s annoying and distracting to constantly think about her, but nothing works.

In retrospect, he was even psychologically rude about it, trying- and failing- to find negative qualities about her or flaws in her appearance, but his fawning heart wouldn’t allow such disrespect to the receiver of it’s pesky little affections. The worst he could come up with was that her eyes looked as if some snot-nosed, uncoordinated, messy little kid had shaken an entire bottle of glitter onto a piece of copy paper and called it a day. And that her voice was soothing enough to coax that same child into comfortable, cow-jumping-over-moons dreams.

He wishes he were that hypothetical child rocked to sleep by her lulling voice because by the way things were going, he’s having a pretty hard time getting a wink of sleep because every time his phone vibrates he snaps straight up like his spine is locked and obsessively searched his phone for her name. And he’s tried putting his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ but it only makes it worse because what if he texts her and he doesn’t see it because he’s sleeping?

All of the customers that came after her, during his period of constant surveillance over his ‘trap phone’ received the best delivery times and the snarkiest attitude he’s ever had to offer. The morning sun isn’t as bright as it used to be and the moon is dimmer than usual because nothing can compare to her. He misses her terribly and it’s stupid because he doesn’t even know her and she probably thinks he’s a jerk because he acts like such a dick.

Mitch thinks it's funny that he’s so twisted about a girl. ‘A’ girl because even though he was high when he spilled his secret to his friend, he doesn’t think he could stand a potential breach of his privacy in the case that Sarah found out.

“I haven’t heard from her in a while,” Harry said.

“Do something about it,” Mitch said.

And well, what the fuck was he supposed to do? It’s not like he can reach out to her to ask her if she wants to buy more weed. That would seem greedy and insensitive on his part; a money hungry dealer. He’s already in a limbo of moral dilemmas that shouldn’t exist in the first place and he doesn’t want to complicate it by any form of shady communication.

His dilemma, however, was solved by whatever divine being that dared to bear witness to his nonsensical pleas to the ether. It seemed as though she favored the night and dark for her ‘picking up’, because the delightful ding! came at the thirty minute mark of his tossing and turning.

With the sheets rumpled around his waist and his templed damp with faint beads of perspiration, Harry straightened in the same way he has for the past month, only the tedious exhaustion of it not being her was begging to gnaw at him. Was this what it felt like to be paranoid? Snapping alert at every single indication of a phone because you think it’s the IRS- or the girl who infects your mind, in his case- calling to demand a service?

Preparing for disappointment again, Harry picked up the phone and squinted as his pupils adjusted to the sudden change in light.

Y/n: Hello, Harry! This is y/n. You delivered to me last month? Are you available for delivery at the moment?

There is a muted thud as his phone slips out of his shocked hands and lands on the rumpled duvet. A thundering set of drums replaces his beating heart and his jaw remains slack because it has lost the ability to close. The perspiration on his hairline transfers to the cave of his hands. For weeks he’s been in a constant state of glum, waiting for her next text, and now that he has it the only thing going through his mind is oh my god, oh my god.

Still, through his haze he manages to reply with,

Harry: Hi!

Harry: Yes, I remember, and yes, I’m available

What he really wanted to say, and what he should have sent was, how could anyone forget you? You haunt me day and night. But that was a little obsessive, and probably would have scared her off before they even got anywhere.

Harry: Would you like to see what I have available?

Y/n: Please :D !

The pre-written list of items he has available changed this week. He’s added some chocolate edibles, brownies, and gummy bears that he picked up for a cheaper, wholesale price at the dispensary he frequents, and it makes him wonder if she’ll dare to buy them. He had one a few days ago at Mitch’s place with Sarah and has a smashing time. He couldn’t stop petting their cat, Texas, because the feel of her brown fur between his fingers was heavenly.

Grey bubbles appear and disappear several times along with his intake of oxygen before a long text appears, listing everything she wants from his makeshift ‘menu’ and… it’s a lot. The last time he received an order like this it was for a frat party that one of Mitch’s coworker’s friend’s brother referred him to, and it took him an entire week of rolling and baking to get his inventory back up. His kitchen smelled like weed-butter for a solid month.

Harry: Give me a moment to make sure I can sell you everything. Pretty large order…

The chipped black paint on his nails became a dark blur as his fingers typed, deleted, and typed uncertain words over and over again before finally settling on a sentence that was… neutral and didn’t send the wrong meaning. Usually, with his customers he was a mixture of blunt and friendly, but y/n wasn’t just a customer, and it made everything ten times harder.

Y/n: I’ll take whatever you have, please! Take your time, I don’t mean to stress you out

If she said please one more time, Harry was sure that he would become a liquid, coagulated version of himself among the mess of his blankets.

Jerking his ankles free of the fabric snake that snared him to a useless bed, he clambered off, knuckling at his tired eyes and shivering as the cool, still air of his room wrapped itself around the warmth of his body. Reaching into his closet for the first things he finds, a dark green hoodie and grey sweatpants, Harry yawns and dramatically stretched with his arms way above his head, hoping that the movement would push out the feeling of loneliness that was beginning to take purchase between his ribs, right underneath his heart.

Another late night, another delivery. He wished there was someone in his bed to call him back. Please don’t go, they’d say, the bed is cold without you in it. A warm hand trailing like a ghost against his thigh as he walked away, and a sleepy smile or groan of displeasure as his goodbye. He might not stay in the bed, but he would be happy- no, elated, to know that he would be coming back to someone.

The grow light of his makeshift greenhouse tinted his skin purple as he rummaged through all of his pre-rolled and pre-packaged items, his phone at his side as he checked off everything she has asked for.

9 of the Cherry Deals

6 of the citrus-infused pre-rolls

4 lavender-infused

10 brownies

And 2 8ths

In total, it came out to 28 joints.

Which is… well, a lot for just one person, or two, or three (unless you’re Snoop Dog or something). Packing everything up into four separate paper bags, and then a larger white bag so that she isn't filling with all of the smaller ones, he types out another cold text.

Harry: Okay I have everything.

Harry: Send the address, please.

She sends the address, and Harry follows the same routine as the last time, nearly eating shit as he flew out into his garage. Excitement bubbles in his guts at the same increment and volume of his motorcycle’s initial purr. Flipping open the back compartment he usually stores things in, he realizes that there is no way it’s all going to fit inside, so he turns on his heels to grab a backpack from inside and then he realizes that he’s not wearing any shoes. The smooth, grey floor is cold against the arches of his bare feet, and his brows furrow at his own insolence. Had he been so wrapped up in… everything that he didn’t put on shoes?

Rolling his eyes at his own actions- and feeling a little embarrassed that he’d let it happen- Harry returned to his home and snatched up the first pair of fashionable compatible shoes within his reach (green converse the same shade of his sweater) and the backpack to place the white bag in ( a little redundant, but he didn’t think holding it while he rode would be a good idea). Rushing back to the garage, he hoped that he wouldn’t come up empty with words like he had the time before.

The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away.

***

He was right about it being a party.

At least three minutes before he was flipping down his kickstand, the thundering bass of some rap song (he thinks he can hear ASAP Rocky, but he’s not too sure) shakes the streets and the trees. It’s a house party in a building that was too big to fit into the word ‘house’, but yet too small to fit in ‘mansion’. Toilet paper and trash litters the front yard while couples make out and loners smoke cigarettes, or maybe joints, out on the generous porch. Sports cars and beat up rides pack the driveway and most of the street in front of the house, so it makes it really difficult to station his motorcycle in an area where he has a clear view of who’s coming in and out of the house, and therefore, really hard to spot y/n.

That is until-

“Hi, Harry!”

She’s sitting down on the curb with her arms around her legs and her chin on top of her legs, looking… scared. Her eyes were blown open like a newborn doe, and the sprawl of her limbs as she unravels from her sitting position to a wobbly stand mimics the shaky, knocking knees of a filly that is learning how to walk for the first time. Her voice is even headier than it was the last time he heard it, like windchimes in the spring chill.

Harry’s eyes roam over her with no attempt to conceal his blatant appreciation for the fuzzy sweater falling down to her mid-thigh. They seem to have become a pattern with her. This time, it’s a baby blue crew neck and a pair of jeans, and y/n’s has tried to tie her hair up into a bun at the back of her hair but spiky pieces stick out the back and tendrils swap her ears, making her look like a soft, smudge-y dream.

“Hello,” he says softly, not needing to clear his throat this time. He steps forward a bit, so he can hear her better (or at least that’s what he tells himself), “s’good to see you again.” Harry’s words are louder and more amicable than the last time he greeted her, and his lips part in a crooked friendly smile which she returned with the same tentativeness. There’s something off about her this time around. She’s pulling at her sleeves and shifting her feet, glancing over her shoulder as soon as she’s standing straight and her eyes won’t stand still on Harry’s figure for more than a few, burning seconds.

“It’s good to see you, too! I hope I’m not waking you up every time I text, though,” an exhaled laugh left her lips, and she dropped her gaze down to her shoes. Y/n rocked on her feet, once and then twice. “I think I’ve… I’ve made a habit of texting you late at night.”

And he blushes, “I- uhm… I was having a hard time sleeping, so you didn’t wake me. It’s fine.”

If only she knew that he was having a hard time sleeping because his subconscious was a bothered brat over not seeing her again. Pleading words of requests to ask her never to stop texting him were dancing on the tip of his tongue, banging against his barricaded lips and begging to come out. However, he didn’t think such daring words were fitting with their barely budding relationship. They were pitiful and needy, like a puppy, and frankly, Harry didn’t want to present that image.

“Oh,” she stilled her movements, checked over her shoulder again and then looked him in the eyes and said, “are you okay?”

“M’fine, yeah. Just got a lot of you on my mind at the moment,” he says. It makes y/n furrow her brows and tilt her head at him like a little cat, only then that he realize what he has said, “Things! Got a lot of things on my mind. Sorry,” he clears his throat, looks away while hanging his helmet on the handle of his ride. “Haven’t been sleepin’ much.”

“Aw, I’m sorry. That sucks,” y/n pouts. Pouts at him. And he just blinks. Doesn’t smile or laugh.

“S’alrigh’. Y’got quite a large order this time. Havin’ a party?” As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to slap his palm against his forehead. He probably sounded stupid, given there was clearly a raging party going on in the house behind her. Of course she was having a party, what he should’ve said what ‘what are y’celebrating?’ or ‘are you here alone?’. Like the ‘do you have a date?’ kind of alone.

“You got it right? Thank you. And… something like that, I guess. I’m a bit nervous, honestly, because I’ve never…” She shrugs, looking away from him and back to the house.

“Never been to a party like this?” He’s confused. Surely he can’t mean that she’s never smoked before? Right? Because if that were the case, then what did she do with the weed he gave her last time? And what was she doing at a party were they were on this much drugs.

“No! No, no, I’ve never… smoked before.” She’s adamant in shaking her head. Her hands too, splayed wide like jazz hands.

“Y’never smoked before? What about last time?” Harry hates how it sounds as though he’s accusing her, but he can’t seem to control the way his words are coming out of his mouth, not around her, and it’s making him look like a dick. What he wants to do is smile and tease her, to find some way to ask her if she would like to share a joint with him without sounding too sleazy.

Shaking her head, “those were for my roommate and his boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Harry’s heart pitter-patters in his chest, his mouth in a straight line, and although there’s an abundance of emotions elbowing against the other in his chest, he shows none of them.

“Yeah,” awkwardly, she shifts her weight from heel to heel, arms crossed before reaching into her pocket and bringing out a folded wad of cash. “$540, right?”

“That’s right, but…” C’mon man, he scolds himself, pull it fucking together. This is a concerning situation. Surely she can’t be buying this much this time and not plan on participating. “Are you gonna be a’right?”

Worrying her lips between her teeth, she lets out a deep breath before answering. Smiling and nodding as she answers as if she wants to convince herself, “I think so. How hard can it be?”

“Pretty hard if it’s y’first time, sweetheart,” Harry forces himself to smile a little, but instead it looks as though he’s grimacing. “Will y’friends walk y’through it?”

Y/n looks back at the house again, and shuffles her feet. She’s got a sad little look in her eye, droopy and shy. Great. He was making her uncomfortable. “They’re n-not really my friends,” she says, “but I guess so.”

What? “What?” The word is sharp in his mouth. What the fuck was she doing, then? Hanging with people that she didn’t look all that enthused to be with, buying their weed, standing out here all alone?

“They’re not-”

A male comes out of the house, red solo cup in hand, and he’s not wearing a fucking shirt. He’s waving a hand in the air, trying to flag y/n down Harry assumes, and he’s offended for her. Harry’s brows furrow and his hands curl into fists behind his back. Why isn’t he wearing a shirt? What the fuck is he drinking and why is he being so disrespectful interrupting their conversation this way? All for some weed?

Now on the last step, the guy shouts, “Y/n, what’s taking so long?”

The poor girl jumps, startled, and her eyes go wide. “Sorry, I’ll be in soon!” Y/n shoves the money at him, frazzled, and takes the paper bag from his hands. “Here's $560, Harry. The rest is a tip. You can count it if you’d like!”

“It’s alright, here you-” she’s already bounding away from him, but he doesn’t want her to go, and somehow, he finds the will to call her back. He just wanted her to look at him once more, because she wasn’t even inside yet, but he missed her gaze. “Y/n!”

She stops, and he gets exactly what he wants. Her attention. “Yes?”

Harry swings a leg over his motorcycle and gets ready to leave before he does anything stupid like… like trying to hold her hand or something. Who knows, he lost his ability to act his age around her. “Have a water bottle at your side,” he’s mumbling almost, “and don’t take too much in on your first try. Exhale and don’t freak out when y’start coughing. Or embarrassed. It’ll be okay. And… and do y’best to relax.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

And y/n smiles at him.

It’s small, and it’s meek the way a feral kitten approaches a human with food. Scared, and rightfully so, because Harry wants to scoop her up and take her home.

“Of course. Have a safe night.”

She nods and walks away with another piece of his heart in her hands.

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cuntinies · 4 months

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dating modern!korra

warnings: talks about readers butt, korra being a weirdo, fluff

a/n: tysm for 50 followers!! i hope you all enjoy my stories i mostly talk out out my ass whoops. i plan on continuing this if people want me to, so send anything to my inbox!

- korra is the definition of a sucker

- she was all talk when she first approached you, backpack slung on one shoulder, her messy ponytail, the way she kept tapping her foot

- "lemme uh, get your number cutie." was what she said as she tried her best to be oh so nonchalant but the way her hand was shaking as she handed her phone to you was so cute

- she wasn't big on pda but once you slipped your hands into hers, she instantly melted

- her wardrobe consists of cropped wide t-shirts, carpenter jeans, and a pair of white converse

- you tried convincing her to spice up her outfits a bit but the farthest she goes is a pinky ring with your birthstone

- shes a gym rat, sorry not sorryyyyy

- arms for days omgggg, you love just squeezing and holding her biceps that she flexes on purpose

- loves when you tag along to the gym with her, just another excuse to show off her nicely sculpted body

- the way korra shows affection was definitely.. new

- the time when you and she were sitting on a bench, eating some ice cream on a warm summer evening

- "youre so cute-" she says as you think she's going to kiss you but instead presses her cheek into yours

- you were surprised but in an interested way

- now it's your little thing, instead of a usual peck on the lips, you find yourself pressing your cheek onto hers

- another way she oddly shows her affection is by sniffing

- you swear this girl was a dog the way she would sniff you

- hugging you? she indulges in the perfume you dabbed on this morning. giving you a kiss on your head? shes sniffing that too.

- doesn't let you do anything yourself. when she sees your shoes untied, she dives to go tie them herself

- it was cute at first but then she asked you if she could help you wipe which ended up with you throwing the toilet paper roll at her face.

- "you didn't say no though!!!!" she yells as you slam the door in her face

- i honestly think korra is more of an ass girl than boobs but that can be up for debate. grabs it, smacks it, holds it, it does not matter. she loooovesss laying on it when you lay on your tummy "korra if you keep sticking your face-" you say as you gently nudge her stomach with your trapped legs. "nuh uh i like it here.." is all you hear as her mumbling is muffled by your ass.

- little spoon!!!! she likes being cradled on your lap, she does not care if she is heavy

#avatar korra #tlok korra #korra x reader #korra avatar #tlok korra x reader #legend of korra #tlok x reader #lesbian #wlw post #writers on tumblr

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yanderederee · 3 months

Note

hi hii, just saw your new event and- wow✨

wanted to ask if i may join in with ran and rindou :3

Thank you so so much for participating and requesting for this event lovelies!!♡ (sorry if my inbox status is hard to read;-;) ! I really hope you enjoy my headcanons!!♡

yandere mbti event page : here!

Ran Haitani - CAML

Cruel:Aware:Manipulative:Lenient

Ran can sometimes teeter between being reverent and Cruel, but more times than not, I believe Ran is often harsh.

Loves to praise his darling and spoil them rotten, but Ran is sadistic, his heart just pounds watching his dalring cry♡

Not cruel like Hanma; Ran is Cruel in the way that he likes when things make you mad or teasing you too far. He tries not to be the reviving end of your wrath for sake of wanting to be on your good side… but it does turn him on a little.

You’re just so cute when you scream at him for flipping your skirt up to “check what his lucky color for the day is”. (Any other oho asa horoscope followers?)

Always makes up with you for his cruel deeds by doing more kind acts. Again, he teeters reverent in the way he praises everything about you, has your back in every decision you make and fulfills your every wish no matter who what’s at stake.

Ran’s hyper-aware of little changes that go on behind your expressions. Ran can read you like a preschool book. There’s no point in hiding anything from him; because he will point out your lies and force you into telling him everything anyway.

Also isn’t one who likes to falsify who you are, or how you feel about him. He’s quite charismatic anyway, so as long as long as he’s careful, he doesn’t need to worry too much. He’s confident in being able to make you fall in love with him with personality and looks alone.

Ran has never considered his actions as wrong. Or, he does, but doesn’t care. He hurts people everyday for any minor fault he deems worthy.

So when he reasons that he will do anything to protect you? Hurting, killing, dismembering, or mutilating—nothing is beyond unreasonable, for your sake.

Ran is manipulative as hell.

To circle back, Ran would rather stay on your good side, if possible. He’s not beyond being honest with you about his delinquencies, but Ran likes lying about the truth.

Ran likes to lie and tease you. “You saw someone outside your window last night? It was probably just a shadow playing a trick on you~.” It Definitely wasn’t him. “You’re so cute when you’re delirious~ maybe I should come over and watch you sleep, just in case… fufu, I’m kidding doll.”

Similarly to how he wants to be on your good side, Ran will be choosingly Lenient with you.

Loves the idea of you ribboned and cuffed to his room with only a cute piece of lingerie on at all times—- but he decides that can wait for worse case scenario. He’d rather you live youthful and fully, experiencing days challenges with him by your side.

* If you start getting too close to realizing his obsessive craze for you, he gets pretty harsh with his gaslighting. So what if you caught some guy with braids in an ally beating your coworker to death after your shift? You couldn’t prove it was him, because it wasn’t him. You understand how mean it is to blame someone for murder right? So stop looking at him like he was some damn ghost.

* But if the cat’s out of the bag, it’s out. If he ever becomes discovered, I can see him changing into CAHS personality type. Forced to become honest, and restricting you into become more akin to a pet than a person. He would like to delay this change as far as he can, but that’s entirely dependent on you.

Rindou Haitani - RAHS

Reverent:Aware:Honest:Strict

Rindou HATES being mean to his darling!! When Rindou falls in love, his whole heart is in it. When you make an appearance in his life and inevitably change his way of thinking, Rindou is absorbed with being loved by you.

Similar to Baji in the way his Reverence is less like worshipping and more like protecting. Rindou thinks you’re perfect; that you can do no wrong, and redeemable in all things, including hurting him.

Rindou may have a few daydream-delusions of his darling falling for him like a princess would to her knight in shining armor, wishing you would look at him like he hung the stars, and crave him the same way he craves you.

But he acknowledges reality, and realizes he has to be genuinely careful in approaching you in order for that to happen. Rindou is perceptive and aware of your genuine emotions and thoughts of him.

With a reputation like his, he knows you might have some concerns with being around him. So, he actively makes an effort in showing you who he is.

Rindou likes being genuine with you. As his darling, he feels you may be able to truly understand him, if you’re given the chance…

So, Rindou finds being manipulative rather difficult. He’ll honestly own up to his poor behaviors, and ask for your forgiveness. Now, this can obviously depend on the behavior in question, but Rindou is careful enough to hold himself back while in your company, or with what behaviors reach your ears.

Also likes to keep the image you see of him in a positive light. He might not be perfect, but he was real with you and made you feel genuinely safe.

Now.. hear me out. Rindou is most Strict than he likes to believe. He’s not overbearing like locking you up and keeping you to himself.

But he does gift you cute pieces of jewelry often. They’re always so cute, you end up always wearing at least one or multiple of the Tracking Device imbedded accessories.

He knows your every move. Your every calorie intake. Your every breath is being recorded. It’s all for your safety, of course.

Is very particular with who you spend your time with or who you speak to. Is the type to secretly beat the shit out of Anyone he doesn’t recognize who talks to you too long, takes up too much of your time, or acts remotely unpleasant towards you.

Rindou is less thrilled by the idea of locking you away, if only because he knows the action will make you dislike him. And all Rindou ever wants is to feel loved by you…

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sunflowerxthoughts · 1 year

Note

Hiiiiii. Uhm , you asked for ideas , so I was wondering if you could do a little something about poly marauders x reader

Like one where the reader and Siri are sleepy heads and can't wake up for no reason , while remmy and James try to get them up.

Super fluffy and if it ends with like Siri making readers hair I would love it

I'm sorry if this is too specific. Thank you so much for reading my rumble. :)

I was going through my inbox for a little something to write while on vacation and this was too cute not to do. Also!!! Sorry about being slow with requests, I’m currently in Norway on vacation and I’ve been loving every second.

James and Remus are morning people. They get ready together, and while Remus goes to the library for some light reading, James works out. It’s a simple way to start the day and wait for Sirius and you to wake up.

There are days where you two don’t wake up that late, but when you do, Sirius is easier to get up while you could sleep through a war and they are well aware of it. How could you not? Sleeping with the three of them has to be the best you’ve slept ever.

“Rem, why don’t we let them sleep in?”

“Because Sirius is already up and they are going to miss breakfast, Prongs.”

“Right, right.”

So when the three of them are already ready, they start the impossible: waking you up. It starts softly, with hushed words and sweet nothings. Usually James and Sirius try until Remus is the one getting you up.

“Come on dove, you’re going to miss breakfast. Can’t have you running out of energy by 11.”

You only groan because you are sleepy, but it doesn’t matter because they are already helping you get dressed. Remus has your ouftif while James is on make up duty if you have lazily nodded your head yes.

Sirius is the last one to touch you. You usually let him to whatever he wants with your hair, and he is more than happy to. The way his fingers scratch softly at your scalp has you humming and it has him smiling like an idiot. He thinks he could not be more in love with you and then you’ll love him for the tiniest things, and while it took a little for him to get used to it, now is more than welcome and another reason to grow old together.

“Thank you, Siri.”

“No need to thank me, love.”

And while you hold hands with James and Rem has his arm around your shoulders, Sirius needs a moment because he thought he had been lost for so long, and turns out home was in the bed next to him. Home was sitting next to him in Charms class.

Home would forever be his three loves. And he doesn’t need much more to be happy.

#poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders x reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader

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leothil · 9 months

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About deco my tree

If you, like me, used the decomytree-site to receive and send messages lately, you've probably also seen the post warning that the site might have nefarious intentions. This is likely correct. When I went to look at my messages today, it told me "Currently, only the app can open messages due to high usage." That is clearly complete bullshit. It's probably self-evident, but DO NOT DOWNLOAD THE APP. This is base level scam stuff: trick people into getting excited about a service, then lock it to only one platform where the user will have to give up some information in order to get what they want.

(Obviously, I can't say with 100% certainty that something sus is afoot, but my warning bells are ringing very loudly. I am leaning towards this being more of an attempt to lure money out of people than an information stealing attempt, but you can never know.)

I took a look at what the app requirements are:

This ain't great for something that allegedly only is for leaving cute messages for other people. I'm looking specifically at the "Data isn't encrypted" part. If you've taken a look at your tree today, you've probably noticed that ads for an AI app have appeared here and there in the UI; this is by the same company behind deco my tree.

Now. If you still want to see your messages, there is the option of running the app in a virtual environment that isolates it from the rest of the device, and thus from the data on it. I think iOS and Android both might have native sandbox environments, but I'm not familiar with them. What I did was download an android emulator to my computer and installed the app there. It's completely separated from the rest of my OS and will cease to exist when I nuke the session after reading and saving all my messages.

The emulator I used is called Bluestacks. It has ads and will take up ca 5GB of space, but it's a reputable emulator, and I've used it before to play android games on my desktop. Once you're in there, you can navigate to your tree in the already existing Chrome browser on the desktop (or home screen, I suppose), and find the link to their help center, where they have a download link for the apk file without needing to go through the Play Store (which you'd have to log in to using a google account). Also a bit suspicious, but handy in this case. I've also included the links above for you to use. Once you've downloaded the .apk the app will open and you'll be able to log in and see your messages.

Side note - if you used a generic password that you use in several other places for this tree, I highly recommend changing it in all other places, especially if you usually combine it with the same email you used for decomytree.

Another fun thing I noticed is that the app refuses to load the earliest three messages on my tree, for whatever reason. But when I navigate back to the website (inside the emulator), it now opens the messages just fine since it can tell I have the app installed. 🙃 The app also continuously displays ads for the same AI app mentioned above, trying to trick you into clicking on them when you're swiping through your messages. It also does this fun thing:

Yeah. Bypassable, but highly irritating, and guaranteed to catch at least some poor people that don't know what to click on to make it go away.

TL;DR: don't download the app directly to your phone, use a sandbox to isolate it to see your messages, and then ask it to delete your account (and hope that it works, because so far the so-called verification code has failed to appear in my inbox). And change your password if you've used the same one elsewhere on the internet.

#deco my tree #decomytree #PSA

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stvolanis · 8 months

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Hearts & Kisses

(I have multiple asks in my inbox for Farleigh x Plus size! Reader, so here y’all go!!)

PAIRINGS: Farleigh Start x Fem! Plus size! Reader

WARNINGS: foul language, body dysmorphia,slight angst, emotional reader, crying, mentions of blood, fluff, Farleigh being a sweetheart, pet names, use of the word “fat”, people are fucking rude

NSFW WARNINGS: sub!reader, soft Dom!Farleigh, praise, body worship but in a cutesy way, slight perv!Farleigh, slight nipple play, emotional sex, groping, making out, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), cream pie, overall cute sex

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

Your whole life, it feels as though the world was somehow molded to revolve around your weight. It was like the people around you didn’t allow you to have any other kind of personality rather than just being “the fat friend”, to put it bluntly.

Venetia was your best friend, but even she, sometimes, made you upset when it came to that aspect.

Like when she’d complain to you about how she was gaining weight, and needed to start counting her calories again. Or when something wouldn’t fit her the way she wanted it to cause of the faintest chub of her stomach, which honestly suited her petite body.

Having lived in her shadow, it was no surprise that every man you’ve ever liked, ended up liking Venetia instead. It was easier to like Venetia. She was pretty, skinny, outgoing, the whole package deal in the form of a raging she-demon. Any man would be dumb to pass up any offer Venetia laid to them.

She comforted you, of course, and knew of your insecurities and struggles you faced of being bigger than some. She tried her best to make you feel better about it, in her own odd Venetia way, and you loved her dearly for that—but it just wasn’t enough. You longed for men to look at you the way they did her.

You knew you shouldn’t have, but sometimes you wished Venetia was the token “fat friend”. Even if it were just for a day, so she could truly understand what it was like being in your shoes. Maybe then she wouldn’t tell you that you were over exaggerating when you cried over gaining 3 more pounds.

You were tired of the look on old, decaying couples faces when you’d be sitting at a restaurant. The clear look of judgment, disgust and hostility written all over their faces when you’d order food of your choice. You knew what they were thinking without them even having to say it. It made you feel like shit.

You stopped eating in restaurants, and in front of people in general. You order all your clothes online to save the embarrassment of having to feel the disappointment of not being able to fit into something, while prying eyes mock and belittle you till you exit.

You were tired of living the life you lived. Tired of the body you had. Tired of every little imperfection and flaw that you had.

The mirror was your worst enemy, a constant reminder. A vision flashes through the eyes that stare back at you of the life you wanted. Happy. Rich. Popular. Married, with a plethora of beautiful children who you prayed never had to go through your struggles.

You were so focused, so concerned with the hatred you held for the body you were given—that you didn’t even stop to think for even just a moment, that maybe, there was someone out there who adored every part of you.

Farleigh Start, being one of them.

From the moment he laid his eyes on you, he’s loved you ever since.

From afar, he watched you in Venetias shadow—seemingly the only one who’s ever seen you. From tears falling down at the party, being the saddest person in the crowded room; to watching the way you avoided mirrors in the Saltburn mansion like they were the plague. How sad you were, was a trait he could easily tell.

He knew what your troubles were, it wasn’t hard to figure out. He just wished you saw yourself through his eyes, and maybe then you’d understand just how beautiful you were.

You were funny, and so beautiful; definitely more beautiful than his bimbo of a cousin. You were smart, which he took notice of when he saw you reading a damn book rather than engaging in a valentines party back at Oxford. He seen your scores, and knew you took school seriously. A scholarship girl, through and through. But he thought it was cute.

There was never a flaw in you, and he only ever saw you for what you were; a genuine, caring and sweet person. Never did he pay mind to what everyone else so blatantly gawked at, acting as if they’d never seen a plus size person. How ignorant of them, he’d always say. How vile.

Tonight was special, a welcome to the new boy that Felix brought home from Oxford—Oliver, was his name. A peculiar boy, to Farleigh, but an easy friend to you.

You sat down on the far end of the couch, picking at the skin around your nails absentmindedly while the others around you drank wine from the bottle, singing a song you didn’t care to listen to. Every once and a while you’d look up at Venetia, just to find her giving you the thumbs up as she took one of her playthings for the night to her chambers with a dorky smile.

Farleigh watched you from across the room. Always from across the room, never close enough for you to realize he was ever even there. You complained about being in Venetias shadow, yet Farleigh basked in yours.

You wished that men would look at you. To spare you the time of day rather than just a polite smile. But Farleigh was the one who longed for you to look at him that way. He longed for you to look at him as more than just a friend, or an admirer—he wanted you to look at him as if you were lovers.

The night was still young, as were you and Farleigh. He had been planning his approach for at least a month, finally deciding to act on his need for you. So, he watched your doe eyes watch him walk towards you with a lump in his throat. Nervous.

“Farleigh.” You greeted—the warmth and familiarity of your voice filling his ears like a melodic symphony. It was slick like honey, and gentle like a dove in midnight air. “Hey.” he fumbled out after an awkward moment of silence. You smiled.

God, that fucking smile. Anything you wanted, would be yours if you promised to smile at him like that forever. It made his knees weak—weak enough for him to take his place comfortably next to you at the end of the couch.

“How are you?” He asked, staring into your eyes, waiting for a response. You hummed as you looked down at the slightly bleeding skin around your manicured nails. “I’ve been alright.” You lied, casting your eyes up to meet his.

The glint in your eyes told him everything he needed to know. He nodded in understanding, glancing down at his hands that were nervously clamped together with sweat, which he wiped on his slacks. “You look—“ he said, before he cleared his throat from imperfections, “you look beautiful, Y/N.” He smiled.

To say you were shocked was an understatement. The words you wanted to hear slipping past his lips made your walls come crumbling down. Was it finally your turn? Your turn at a chance of happiness? It couldn’t be. This must’ve been a joke. A sick prank he was playing on you with his friends probably laughing somewhere in the room.

Your brows furrowed and Farleigh saw the clear distaste on your face begin to form. “I-“ he started, but didn’t get to finish as he watched you get up and storm out of the room.

Farleigh, in a confused haze, chased after you as you paced to your room with tears in your eyes. He shouted your name from behind you, but you didn’t dare to stop and look back till you felt his hand capture your wrist gently, pulling you to stop your fast pace.

“What’s wrong? I—w-was it something I said? Or—” he rambled on desperately. Your eyes danced across his features with resentment. “You makin’ fun of me? Huh? You think I don’t know that I’m a fucking joke already? Leave me the fuck alone, Farleigh!” You yelled out through tears.

His mouth hung agape as he shook his head in a ‘no’ manner. “W-what? What are you talking about?” He asked, waiting for an answer. You sniffled, rubbing your eyes with your free hand. “You’re making fun of me, Farleigh. Why? I thought you were different.” You huffed out.

He paused for a moment, processing just exactly what you were accusing him of, before he gives you a certain look. A look that screams ‘what the fuck?’, because seriously, what the fuck are you talking about?

“I would never do that to you. Get that out of your head. I meant what I said.” He stated, his hand moving from your wrist to hold your hand firmly. “I like you.” He professed. “I’ve liked you since I met you at Oxford. I don’t know why you think so lowly of yourself—to the point where you convince yourself that you’re not worthy of love or a happy life.” He said, matter of factly.

“You deserve a happy life and more. You deserve the fucking world at your feet. The stars and the moon. You deserve the sun and the planets that orbit it. You deserve everything you want and more, so don’t you dare fucking think for a second any less, you hear me?” He said, his hands cupping your face, forcing eye contact.

That was all it took to have you sobbing in his arms, your body flush against his. “So I’ll say it again, and as many times as I have to until you finally fucking believe me.” He kissed he top of your head as he held you close, your body shaking against his. “You’re beautiful.” He murmured out.

He lead you into your room, softly shutting the door behind the both of you. He watched you curl up on the edge of your bed, rubbing at your weeping eyes. Your little sniffles broke his heart, but he was determined to change this. To change the way you saw yourself.

He stood above you, a singular hand tilting your chin up to face him. “Let me show you just how beautiful you are.” His voice barely above a whisper, in a hopeful tone. You hesitated, for only a moment, before giving in with a nod. “I need words, honey.” He said, pushing your hair out of your face.

“Please.” You whispered back. He nodded, taking off his button down shirt, revealing his toned chest and stomach. His v-line was deep, and his happy trail prominent with faint curls. He moved to take your shirt off, but you stopped him.

“I—I don’t..” you said, your eyes unable to meet his. He sighed, dropping to his knees to become eye level with you. He held your face in his hands like he did before with a small smile. “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.” He reassured. You let out a sigh, nodding at him as a signal that it was okay.

His large hands met the hem of your shirt, sliding it up till it was over your shoulders, and onto the floor beneath you. He laid soft kisses against the top of your breasts, nipples hidden behind a bra. His hands traveled behind you, unclamping your bra, letting it slide off of your arms, landing next to your shirt.

“Perfect.” He mumbled against you. His mouth trialed to your nipple, sucking and licking at it to his hearts content. Your perk, sensitive bud was aching in his mouth, and you released a small mewl when you felt his teeth graze over it just barely biting down. He released your nipple with a loud pop before his tongue found its way to your other nipple, giving it the same treatment as the other.

His hand groped at the breast his mouth was lapping at previously, gently pinching and pulling at your nipples. He released the nipple his mouth was working at with a loud pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your bud.

He gazed down at you with such admiration. It sent heat throughout your body, from the blushing of your cheeks down to your neck, and then down further more as you clenched around nothing as he laid peppery kisses to your stomach.

He traced absentmindedly around your stretch marks before planting a delicate kiss on a few of them. He kissed down till he was met with your pants, unbuttoning them agonizingly slow. When he finally slid them down your legs and onto the floor, he spread your legs open.

He gawked at the way your meaty flesh were plump through his fingers as he squeezed down on your meaty thighs. He licked and sucked at every inch of skin he could get his mouth on, sufficiently leavings a series of vampire-like hickies shamelessly on your inner thighs, only for him to see.

The prominent wet patch on your panties had his cock feel like it was suffocating in its confinements. You were insufferable; a walking, living, breathing temptation. With every innocent movement, the fat of your ass jiggled. It’s all he would watch when you’d walk in front of him, or past him and he’d have to break his neck to see.

The way your breasts bounced no matter what kind of shirt you were wearing. God, he had to go rub one out like a pervert one time because you decided to prance around in a flimsy tube top, nipples poking through on display. The self restraint he had held with you was absolutely mind boggling, yet he managed.

He was doing good, too. Up until now, when he finally had you. Your face was flushed red, all the way down to your neck. Your nipples perked and hard, craving more of his undivided attention. his finger found your panties, sliding it to the side, watching as your juices all but dripped out of your needy cunt.

“Fuckkk..” he groaned out. He pressed a kiss to your swollen clit before rubbing your bud mindlessly with his thumb in a soothing manner. “Know how needy my girl is.” He muttered, licking at your entrance, slurping at the welcoming juices that flowed out.

“Farleigh..” you whimpered out. He coped at you. “I know, honey. I know. M’gonna take care of you, baby.” His tongue swirling around your most sensitive part of your body had your eyes rolling to the back of your head in a pure euphoric feeling.

Sure, you’ve rubbed one out before, but it was never anything like this. It never felt this good, or like you were on a different fucking planet. He must’ve laced his tongue with something, because there was no way someone could do what he was doing with his tongue.

Every flick sent a shiver up your spine, and had you orbiting. Every suckle at your needy little bud that wasn’t so little when he released it from his mouth made you all the more closer to the edge of your on coming orgasm. He lapped at your juices like it was the best thing he’s ever had in his life, and to him, it was.

You tasted sweet on his tongue, and a little bitter but in a delicious way. He wanted to know what you looked like when you came. Did your mouth fall open with bliss, or would it be clenched shut? Would he be able to see those eyes he loves so much, or would they be in the back of your head?

Your hand clawed at his hair, pulling when it became too much. The balls of your feet dug into his back, all of this is a painful way, yet Farleigh didn’t seem to care. He relished in knowing how good he was making you feel. Knowing only he got to see you like this made him go feral, lapping and sucking at your cunt vigorously.

“Wait—F-Farleigh, I’m— I’m gonna cum!” You moaned out, your head thrown back onto the covers on your bed. He groaned into you, sending a wave of bliss through your core, and that was what made you come so easily undone. Your orgasm crashed into you like an unsuspecting wave, but of pleasure with a hint of pain as he continued torturing you through your orgasm.

“Good girl. Did so good, baby. Y’look so fuckin’ pretty.” He praised, kissing your thigh as you came down from your world-shattering high. Little did you know, that was going to be nothing compared to the way you’re going to feel when he was done with you.

You watched as he stripped himself of his pants and boxers, freeing himself of his confinements. His cock sprang and stood proudly, slapping his stomach. You gulped at the sight of him. Hard, with prominent veins on the sides with a red, angry tip that leaked pre-cum. He was more long than girthy, around 8 inches, the biggest you’d ever seen in person.

It twitched slightly, and his heavy, slightly hairy balls hung, full of cum that you wished to milk out of him till he couldn’t give any more. You craved him, and the need to be stuffed was consuming your darkening thoughts, spreading your legs even wider as a welcoming. An initiative that Farleigh happily took.

He rubbed his length through your folds, teasingly. Each time he did so, his weeping tip bumped against your engorged, sensitive clit. “Sweet girl, you’re so wet f’me.” He pointed out, causing that familiar flush to resume on your hot cheeks. “Please fuck me, Farleigh.” You asked.

Farleigh couldn’t possibly say no to his best girl when you looked up at him like he was a godsend. When you finally looked up at him the way he longed for you to. “Anything you want, baby.” And sure enough, his cock slipped past your lower lips, invading your pussy with such recklessness.

Your walls squeezed him tightly, a warm welcome as you clamped down harder onto him when he fully bottomed out. His balls slapped against the underside of your pussy with each hard thrust he delivered to your cunt, angled just the right way, hitting all the right spots that made your legs shake.

“F-farleigh! Oh-“ you moaned out, gripping the sheets below you with such force, anything to stabilize yourself from the blunt force of his cock dominating your insides.

Farleighs mind was consumed with you. The way you felt around him. The way you looked under him, hair matted to your forehead as desperate cries of pleasure slipped past your lips. He couldn’t help himself, he needed to be closer to you. If he could live in your skin, he would, because even now as you were joined together, it wasn’t enough for him.

His lips attacked yours, taking your breath away as your tongues tangled together. He tasted like his Marlboro cigarettes, mixed with the taste of you. The kiss was passionate, an exchanging of unspoken words the two of you would discuss afterwards.

Your mixed saliva was messy, to say the least. It covered the both of your chins, and a string of saliva connected your tongues still, even as he pulled away. The whole scene was erotic as he kissed down your neck, licking and biting at spots, surely a display of marks for everyone to see and wonder who left them.

But he wasn’t hiding himself, not after this, no. He’ll be at your side forever and always after this. There was no more lonely nights of longing, no more worries and ‘what if’s’, or feeling incomplete, like something was missing, when the whole time he knew that it was you.

A wave of relief danced over your features. You didn’t have to go through this alone now, and as you were on the brink of your second release for the night, the stars seemed to shine brighter through your half opened curtains. He luminescent lighting spanning over Farleighs features, making him look most ethereal above you.

His face was contorted in bliss, a show of how he felt as he forhead rested against yours. Pants slipped past his lips as his hand met the flesh of your breast, squeezing. “Need you. M’gonna cum, baby. Can I cum in you?” He asked breathlessly. You nodded. “Yes, please, Farleigh. Please cum in me.” You moaned against him.

He moaned out, his pace becoming a little more sloppy as his hips chased for a release. You felt your orgasm consume you for a second time tonight, making you tumble over yourself as your body wracked with an overwhelming sense of pleasure. His tip hit your g-spot with every thrust, and the feeling was becoming overwhelmingly good.

Tears lined your eyes, but he kissed them away with sweet nothings as he painted your walls a creamy white color, his hips finally stuttering against yours in a final show of his arousal for the night. His balls grew tight, as he filled with with a groan. Sure enough, your sweet cunt was milking him greedily.

When he finally decided to pull out, he watched the way both of your release mixed together in a beautiful display. He smiled softly down at you, your eyes connecting in a sense of a strange understanding. Both of you, outsiders, who now had each other.

His hand found yours as he planted a charming kiss on your forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” He hummed out, watching as you nodded, propping yourself upright.

He slid his clothes back swiftly, making his way to the restroom, wetting a cloth with warm water before making his way back to where you sat, waiting on your bed. “Let me see, honey.” He urged, ushering your legs back open, gently dapping the warm cloth on your sensitive cunt, cleaning up the remnants of the mess both of you had made.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he used the clean side of the warm cloth to gently dab your forehead, ridding it of sweat, pushing your hair out of the way. “Yes—I—thank you” you said after a moment of pondering your words.

He raised a brow. “For what?” He asked. You blushed, embarrassed under his peering gaze. Ironic, seeing as he saw and heard so much more from you just mere seconds ago. “For everything, I suppose. I-I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.” You muttered, almost ashamed.

He clicked his tongue as he flicked your forehead with his finger. “You silly girl.” Was all he muttered. “Don’t worry about that now. It doesn’t matter anymore. You know now, and that’s what counts.” He smiled, a confirmation that everything indeed, was going to be okay.

His curly hair seemed more vibrant, and the glint in his eyes told you what you longed and awaited to hear the most.

“I love you.”

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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