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#Don't panic take action

thelunarsystemwrites · 2 months

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Serious.

this is a very serious post.

KOSA? It's awful. I wrongfully thought we were out of the woods. Were not.

The things they could censor? It's a violation of US rights, silencing LGBTQ+, and Palestinians, health care about resources to get out of abusive situations.

STOP KOSA. END KOSA. FREE PALESTINE. GIVE US EQUAL RIGHTS.

Even if you DON'T support those things, IT WILL CENSOR YOU.

Don't panic, take action.

END. THE. CENSORSHIP.

#Stop kosa #bad internet bills #free palestine #free gaza #Equal rights #Fight back #Don't let us be oppressed #End kosa #kosa bill #bad bills #don't panic #take action #End censorship #Don't panic take action #Reblog #please

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snowsinterlude · 4 months

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🍒 - fitting room.

summary: your soon to be husband always did his best to keep you happy and pretty for him, once a month he would always take you out to keep you in fashion, even if that was just an excuse to fuck you in a fitting room.

c.w: nsfw, smut, p in v, blowjob (m. recieving), dirty talk, public sex, fitting room sex, almost caught, cum denial, mentions to tit slapping and clit slapping, creampie, breeding, dom snow, sub reader, president snow x soon to be wife reader, sex in public places

being wed to the president of panem had some strange types of luxury that comes with it.

one of them being your wardrobe, full to the brim with clothes he brought to you, he had to build you an entire closet to fit in all the things he got you. jewelry, dresses, everything that he wanted you to wear for him, too. lingerie being the thing he always told you to buy.

so today, once again, you were on another luxury store with him, buying clothes and asking for his opinion on certain clothes, knowing he was glad to help you.

"m'love-" you called him, shyly. he gave the assistant of the store a look that was enough to send her away, and when he entered, he could see your panties on your hands while you wore one of the store's new dress. you were olaying with the fabric of your panties like a timid whore, hands occupied with it.

"what..." he chuckled, not even needing to ask anything when you fluttered your eyes at him, his dick starting to stiff up when you swayed your hips to his direction, arms hugging his waist shyly.

"it's just, you know.. you have been such a good husband to me and our wedding didn't even occur, i thought we could, you know, uh... advance the honeymoon."

ah, it wasn't the first time you guys fucked, but those words were enough for him to kiss you all of a sudden, pinning you on the wall while putting your panties on his pockets.

you did your best to make him happy too, always satisfying him and his dick, pumping him while on your knees, tears welling on your eyes as you licked his tip, kissing it open mouthed.

"don't let any drop fall on the dress, okay?" he growled, and you nodded obediently, the action making your head bob on his cock, earning a chuckle out of his lips.

you pulled away a bit, breathing heavily before giving his balls a small kiss. he slapped your face lightly, putting his entire being into not hurting your pretty face and thanking heavens for you being a whore who liked such dirty things.

"coryo, i.. hn, i want you to cum inside of me." you said, breathless after drooling on his cock, getting it purposefully wet for it to enter your gushing ignored cunt.

"god, you're such a bitch." he chuckled, pulling you to stand up, your legs shaking from being on your knees for longer than you actually remembered being.

with your thigh being held by his hand to spread your legs apart, your hands were holding onto anything in that fitting room that could help you not to fall. your moans were muffled by your own panties, that he had stuffed in his pocket before calling you a whore for making him have to muffle your lewd sounds with your own panties.

"i can't believe you are such a perverted whore, drooling on your own panties while i fuck you senseless." he whispered on your ear, kissing your neck while his skin slapped against yours. "maybe i should fuck some sense into you, don't you think so, bunny?"

his question was ironic, but you still nodded pathetically, a despair he had never seen before on anyone's eyes, your tears probably being the main thing that made him think of that.

then, there was a sudden knock on the fitting room door, which made you panic, but not him, his thrusts could have gotten a bit slower, but your pussy was still gushing around him, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as you moaned against your panties.

"miss snow?" the assistant asked, ear on the door as she tried to hear what was happening inside the fitting room. "miss snow, is everything alright?"

her voice seemed a bit worried, and coriolanus kisses on your neck made you even weaker, his mouth nibbling on your ear.

"be a good girl and answer her. and don't you dare make those slutty sounds of yours." he whipered, taking the panties out of your mouth, you let out a soft sob and breathed in heavily before answering.

"y..yes, it is." you blurted out. "is there.. is there anything 'rong?" you fucked yourself back on his dick while saying those things, his hands grabbing your ass with desire, lust and gluttony, marking his hand prints on your ass.

"no. i just needed to know if your husband was there. it is not allowed to have two people in the same fitting room in the store, i need to follow the rules." she said, and your pussy gripped tightly on his cock, his finger masturbating your clit non stop.

"h-he's not there." you answered, pausing multiple times to try and control your sobs.

"but you called him earlier, miss." she said.

"yeah, only t-to zip up.. m-my dress..!" you said, biting your lip as his hand met your cheek again and again, your lips trembling as you cried a bit.

"oh.. okay, miss! please call me if needed." she said, coriolanus relaxed seeing her shadow disappear on the ground, your mouth being stupidly stuffed with your panties again.

"god, you're a terrible actor, bunny." he said, picking up pace while fucking you deep and fast. "great thing you're such a perfect wife for me."

you mewled into his touches, feeling him slap your butt terribly strong, your skin burning as you moaned. "'m sowwy, love" you said, not taking in the tease, it was too difficult to speak up when there was a pair of panties shoved on your mouth.

he slapped across your boobs, your nipples stinging up while his other thumb rubbed against your over sensitive clit against his skillful hands, his hand slapping and pinching at your clit.

"sorry, coryo, sorry!" you begged, crying eyes closing shut as you felt your climax next and ready to engulf your body, but it didn't.

however, he was the first to cum, breeding you up real nice for him while you kept crying.

"coryo!" you begged, not even needing to say the words for him to know what you wanted, his index and his thumb kept on assaulting your clit, his lips kissing your tears.

"sorry, bunny. you're not gonna cum until we arrive home." and those words were enough for you to cry more, your pussy clenching as he pulled his cock away, leaving your cunt to clench on the air, already missing his cock. "be a good girl, okay? if you complain, you won't be cumming for the next month." he threatened.

he helped you dress your panties again, paying for the dress that was still on your body, your body, that was still stuffed with his cum. you and him walked to home, he only demanded that the chauffeur would leave your shopping bags on your closet.

he made you walk all the way to home with your panties stuffed in cum, but you didn’t and you wouldn't complain. you knew that the best you behaved, the soon you'd be cumming on your shared bed, making a mess on his face and on his cock.

you hugged his arm, biting your lip while day dreaming about how much he'd fuck you when you both arrived home. which he did.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #young coriolanus snow #young president snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #tbosas smut #dom coriolanus #sub reader #ask blog #coriolanus smut #smut

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moechies · 2 months

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cnc wif nanamin <3 pt 2 !!

"i know, i know it's scary, princess. it'll all be over soon, okay?"

the thin fabric of your underwear glides over your plush thighs, puffy cunt exposed to the air in no time. the hairs on your neck stick up at his honey like words, but devil like actions. your teary eyes flutter to his face, a small guilted smile spreading across his lips.

"you're so gorgeous," he leans close into your neck, taking a soft whiff of your scent. two of his frigid fingers linger up your thigh, closer and closer to your heat.

"n-no.. please.. y-you don't have to d-do this.. please.. kento.."

he fucking groans. it's almost overwhelming how sweet you are, and how absolutely naive you were to the fact. the way you grasped onto your pastel pink bedsheets in a panic, and your sweet gasps and pleads of his name; it had him in a trance.

"i have to pretty, i'm sorry you can't do anything about it. but it'll be quick, okay? just settle down for me,"

you emit a small cry, stomach churning at his rejection. it was terrifying, and you wanted nothing to do with the man.

"don't cry, now. be good. you don't want me to give you another reason to wet those pretty eyes, right?"

#jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #dead dove do not eat #dark content #tw dark content #tw.dark content #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanamin #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x reader smut #drabbles ⋆⑅˚₊

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masterhallmark · 1 month

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Rant incoming

I feel like the problem with a lot of Disney's live action remakes (and arguably Wish) is they're trying to appeal to a crowd that no longer exists, namely the people who used to claim that the Disney Princesses were sexist.

All the interviews tend to include, "Well she's not chasing a MAN anymore" which...almost no one sees the princesses like that, anymore. Virtually NO ONE still believes the princesses are man-chasing sexist caricatures of women.

Cinderella is now hailed as an abuse victim who stayed strong long enough to get help to get out of her situation. Anyone who says she should have saved herself is basically regarded as a victim blamer. And it's very clear in the film she wasn't looking to marry the prince, she just wanted a night off. She was the only one who wasn't in line to meet him. She didn't find out she met the prince until he went looking for her!

Snow White is now hailed for her negotiation skills, ability to calm down after extreme stress (she had a moment of panic and had to cry for a bit, but who wouldn't after finding out The Queen hired someone to kill you?), and ability to take charge of a house of adult men. And again, she was an abuse victim, this time trying to escape ASSASSINATION ATTEMPTS. While she dreamed of her prince, it was secondary to her main goal of SURVIVAL. There are also entire video essays about how Snow White gave hope to people during The Great Depression.

Everyone acknowledges that Ariel wanted to be human BEFORE meeting Eric. We all know she was a nerd hyperfixating on humans, and also standing up to her prejudiced father.

We understand Sleeping Beauty wasn't the main character, the Three Good Fairies were, AND PHILLIP WOULD NEVER HAVE BEATEN MALEFICENT WITHOUT THEM! He literally depended on them! WOMEN SAVED THE DAY! But even then, is it really such a sin for a girl to fantasize about romance and fall for someone with corny pickup lines?

We all understand Jasmine just wanted someone to treat her LIKE A PERSON. She rejected every Prince before Aladdin because they treated her like a prize. So why did they need her to want to be Sultan? How did that make her more feminist when she already wanted to be treated like an equal and have a say in her future? Is it only empowering if you want a career in politics?

We admire that Belle, despite living in a judgemental village, was kind to everyone (even though she found the village life dull), and her story teaches girls that the guy everyone else loves isn't always a good guy. What's sexist about teaching girls about red flags? And she didn't start being nice to The Beast until he started treating her with respect and kindness.

Do I really NEED to defend Mulan or Tiana? I think they speak for themselves.

Rapunzel was yet another abuse victim who just needed a little help to get out of her bad situation. In this case, she also needed to learn that she was an abuse victim, and that what Mother Gothel did WASN'T normal, much like many victims of gaslighting.

And don't get me started on the non-princess animals.

Perdita had a healthy relationship with Pongo to the point she was open to express her pregnancy fears to him, and was ready to TEAR APART Cruella's goons for daring to touch her puppies as well as adopting the other puppies. Like, she was so ferocious the goons mistook her for a hyena! She's basically that "I AM THAT GIRL'S MOTHER!" scene from SpyXFamily if Yor were a dog. She and her husband were a TEAM.....but they made a Cruella live action to turn her into a girlboss?! The literal animal abuser!? THAT'S the woman you wanted to put on a pedestal when Perdita was RIGHT THERE!?

Duchess kept her kittens calm after they had been catnapped and was classy as heck. Nice to everyone regardless of social class during a time period where that was uncommon.

Lady stood up to Tramp when she believed he had abandoned her and didn't really care about her. She found out he was a heartbreaker and was like, "Nuh uh. No. You are not doing that to me! You put me through enough."

Miss Bianca from The Rescuers was IN CHARGE the whole movie, and was willing to risk life and limb to save an innocent child. THAT TINY MOUSE TOOK ON ALLIGATORS! And she picked Bernard to accompany her because he was the only one who wasn't ogling her. And then in the sequel SHE DID IT ALL AGAIN! I wish I were as brave as her.

Like, the public haven't accused these ladies of being sexist caricatures since 2014 (Actresses and actors don't count, they're out of touch like the rest of Hollywood) yet Disney is operating under the assumption that the public still thinks that way, hence all the "sHe'S nOt AfTeR a MaN iN ThIs VeRsIOn" talk.

The live action remakes are trying to attract an audience that doesn't really exist much, anymore, and back when it did exist, was comprised mainly of people who didn't actually watch the films. The Disney princesses are no longer seen as sexist, and feminine qualities are no longer seen as weak or undesirable.

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thelunarsystemwrites · 2 months

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ENDING KOSA!

The only reason it didn't pass the first two times is because we spoke out about it!

DON'T PANIC, TAKE ACTION.

LET'S GET KOSA TRENDING TO GET IT ENDING!

#End kosa #Kosa #Stop kosa #stop bad internet bills #bad internet bills #bad bills

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rrking · 2 months

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Teaching Astarion how to hug tho 🥺

He is so awkward, never knowing where to put his hands because you aren't a mere conquest - you're his beloved. He doesn't want to tar you with that same brush.

"Astarion, I'm freezing!" You whine, running up to him and pressing your face into his chest. Faerun is in the dead of winter, and your vampire is colder than usual. He's like a block of ice.

"Actually... I'm not sure if you're the best person to come to..." you wonder, a hint of mischief in your voice.

"N-No, no!" he panics, forcing you back against his body with an iron grip. His arms are so stiff, it feels more like a scroll of holding than a hug.

"Don't go to anybody else. I don't want to see you in the arms of anybody else..."

His admittance is cute, especially when he's so bashful about it.

"Hold me."

Astarion tries. He awkwardly pats your back and doesn't quite understand why you aren't pulling away yet. The hug is over. Isn't it?

"Put your hands on me."

Straight away, he's got them on your chest, your pert nipples peering through the fabric rather distracting...

"Not there," you huff, taking his hands and winding them around your back. He leaves them there without a word, but they're limp now.

"With some feeling. Snuggle me."

Your words just don't compute. Even when you try nuzzling into his torso. He pulls his arms a little tighter, but it's more like a rope pulling taut than a comforting hug.

"Tighter than that. Hold me like you're stopping me from falling into a muddy puddle."

He leaps into action and lifts your entire body up, spinning you playfully to where he would consider a dryer spot. It's enough to illicit giggles and smiles but as he places you back down gently, you realise he's got it. When he's lost in your eyes, pleased to hear the sweet sound of your laughing and watch the way your mouth curves...

His arms are just right, they're almost cradling you.

There is a pause.

But you snuggle yourself into him like a cat searching for a soft place to sleep, letting him hold onto that fuzzy feeling in his stomach. Astarion doesn't need to be told that this is the correct way to hug, because he can feel it.

Before long, he is surprising you with hugs and genuinely enjoying them as far as contact goes whilst he's trying to repair his relationship with sex and intimacy.

#astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #Astarion fluff #imagine

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flangore · 3 months

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❥ she loves me like a dog

feat.: Valentino & Vox/f!reader

summary: You try and run away from Valentino. It's an entirely stupid idea and backfires spectacularly.

warnings: nsfw content, noncon, physical + psychological abuse, unhealthy relationships, violence, punishments, manipulation, Valentino and Vox are their own warnings, guns, object insertion

Every demon in Hell, especially ones who had spent quite some time in the V's part of Pentagram City, knew that there was no escaping Valentino's grasp.

With connections that spread like spiderwebs through every part of town, there was nowhere to be safe, nowhere to hide, given how Vox's eyes reached every street, every alley, a phone or a security camera always in each and every corner.

There was nowhere to hide — except for at the Hazbin Hotel, apparently under the protection of the Radio Demon. You had heard Vox whine and bitch about it at one point, anger dripping off his voice, and, despite knowing better, your heart had lept with hope. Days after, you had tried your hardest to ignore each of the silly ideas making themselves at home in your mind; had attempted to not think of running away, of a better life.

And yet, in the end, you hadn't been able to resist temptation.

Every demon in Hell knew that there was no escaping Valentino's grasp.

That was why you had only yourself to blame for the consequences now that he had caught ahold of you once more, the contract, signed with both of your names, floating next to your face in silent mockery.

Tears brimmed in your eyes; your heart threatened to drop out of your chest with how erratically it was beating.

“I'm kinda disappointed, baby”, Valentino drawled, accent coming through thickly, betraying his calm and collected act. A claw, painted golden, hooked underneath your chin, tilting it upwards until your neck ached, your height difference only adding to the unease curling in your stomach. “Tell me, why did you do feel the need to run away like that?”

Your throat felt tight.

“Come on, you can trust me. Trust us.”

The chains, made of red smoke and currently wound tightly enough to leave marks around your wrists and ankles, really did not make you feel like you were able to trust him. Neither did Vox's presence. Admittedly, he had always unnerved you even more than Valentino had, though, right now, his smirk was downright terrifying.

“Was it the working conditions?” Vox crooned, tone lathered with contempt, with amusement. “Were you unhappy with your job? Do tell us. We're always open to criticism, really.”

There was no explanation that could have excused your actions.

Valentino's smirk widened. “Yeah, babe. What was the issue? I mean, you really can't quit, not with our contract, so what was the purpose of trying to run away?”

“I remember just how grateful you were when Val offered you this opportunity years ago. Do you suddenly think you're too good for us?”

Those words, leaving Vox's mouth so easily, finally dragged you far enough back into reality for you to get a noise out, high-pitched and terrified.

“No”, you choked out, quickly shaking your head, panic making you tremble. “No, that's not—”

“No? Then tell us the reason, mi amor.”

You were pretty certain you were in the middle of a panic attack, lungs feeling too small to take any oxygen in. Not that it mattered right now. “I don't know, I wasn't thinking—”

“That's such a shame. If you at least had an explanation, we could go easy on you.” Vox clicked his tongue, not looking like it was a shame at all. “Val, will you do the honours?”

“Already on it, babe.”

With how large of a being Valentino was, it was all too easy to forget just how quickly he was able to move. Pain bloomed on your cheek, your head spinning, and it took quite a moment for you to realise that he had hit you with the hilt of his gun, custom-made.

In the back of your mind, you wondered whether the rhinestones on it had left indents on your skin.

A metallic taste spread in your mouth. “Please—”

“It's a little late to beg”, Vox remarked.

Valentino's smile was all teeth, unkind in nature. “But it's fine, sweetheart, don't worry. I won't fire you.” His hand cupped your aching cheek, then grabbed ahold of your hair, yanking your head back painfully. “You'll be with us forever. Aren't you grateful? We just have to teach you a lesson. Can't have the bitches acting up, now can we?”

You really had no choice but to nod, tears dripping down your face, surely smearing your makeup, though that was the least of your worries as, suddenly, your bonds shifted, chains pulling taut, changing your position until your legs were wrenched apart.

Panties were rarely part of your work clothing, but being fully bare in front of them right now made bile rise up in your throat.

“See, I wanted to fuck you, remind you who you belong to”, Valentino commented, sounding terribly nonchalant. The muzzle of his gun pressed against the soft skin of your inner thigh, the metal cold. “But Voxxy had better ideas.”

Your heart must have stopped at one point, you were certain of it. This must have been a fever dream, a hallucination.

Despite the panicked thoughts running through your scrambled mind, you didn't protest; had no time to, either. Not that it would have been any use.

Before you knew it, Valentino pushed the gun into you, dry, fuck—, the pain making you cry out, voice high-pitched. Unceremoniously, he shoved it further inside, unrelenting until the hilt of it rested against the lips of your cunt, your whole body tense with agony.

“There we go.” Your eyes flickered over to Vox, the way he was palming himself through his trousers obvious even with your blurry sight. “That's hot. Hah—, look, she's even wet.”

At this point, you hardly noticed that you were screaming, throat aching, the thoughts of running away by now merely an unrealistic fantasy, silly, like the wishes of a spoiled child.

You were, in fact, not wet; instead, blood was easing the glide at least a little, albeit it hardly offered any relief.

You must've torn somewhere. Placing the pain seemed to be an impossible task when simply everything hurt.

At least it wasn't going to get worse from here on — it couldn't possibly.

Valentino just loved to prove you wrong.

“Hey, you think we can fit a dick in there at the same time?”

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emmyrosee · 4 months

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You went to bed before Kiyoomi.

You never do that. Ever since you’ve moved in with him, your nights end with a massive pile of cuddling limbs and sweet words of sticky nothings that have you cocooned and ready for a peaceful night.

But tonight, he snapped at you. Something about being too “irate” over “something small.”

He missed dinner. And normally, that wouldn’t be a massive issue for you. But he was with asshole of a PR member who’s been trying to get with him for months, calling themselves his “work babe.” Who were you to think nothing funny wasn’t going down?

It's not a lack of trust from Kiyoomi that has you choked up. It's a lack of trust with them.

You know more than anyone when kindness turns to love, it's the same thing that happened between you both, and it kills you to think they could preform the same spell and potentially take your man from you.

You tell yourself that if they can take him, they can have him.

But the idea hurts none the less.

It hurts enough where you're curled up on your side of the bed, far from Kiyoomi's, where his smell lingers and the coldness on your body isn't offset by his warmth like it usually is. You whimper and bury your face in the meat of your pillow when you hear the front door open, and a soft call of your name follows. You didn't even know he left, to be frank, but you don't say anything as he stalks into the bedroom with another call of your name.

"Are you awake?"

"Am now," you murmur.

"Can we please talk about things?" He sounds desperate, like he knows this is killing you, weighing you down like a sac of bricks and keeping you from him.

"You talk," you say, nodding into your pillow. "I have nothing to say."

"Okay. I understand."

A muscular arm reaches over your frame to reach for your hand, and when you don't put up a fight to keep his hand away, he sighs shakily.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, linking his pinkie finger with yours. You screw your eyes shut and sniffle, and you hear him swallow thickly. “I was just so upset to know that you were right to worry-“

“What?”

“Wait- No!” He says quickly, panic in his voice. “No, wait, that’s not what I meant.” He’s never been good with his words. You let him continue, your heart sinking into your stomach all the same. He sighs shakily, “I meant that you were right about me being here. I should’ve been. We haven’t had dinner together in weeks, and I just… I got so caught up in new sponsorships and gigs that I wanted more, and I thought they had more to give.”

“They want you, Kiyoomi,” you mumble. “I see it. It’s the same way I bugged you when we first started dating, just to show how much I liked you. They’re doing that.”

“I know,” he sighs. Then, he pauses, squeezing your pinky, “I went to talk to them. Told them if they couldn't keep it professional and cut the shit, they can search for other clients. Because I don't want them making either of us uncomfortable anymore. And even if they did want me, I don't care.” He crawls over to you and bends slightly to have his head dangling in front of you, curls flipping upside down at the action. “Because I want you.”

You snort at the sight.

“So can we please cuddle, and you grab my teeth or sniff me or whatever feral thing you usually do?” He asks, leaning forward to kiss you on the nose. “Miss your stupid affections.”

“I miss giving them to you,” you say, moving a finger up slowly to try and pick his nose, just to make him squirm, a sign of a truce. He grunts and whips his head back, letting your laughter fill the room, rather than your tears. When you feel him sit back on his side of the bed, you take your time in flipping over, finally meeting his dark eyes again, filled with hope and adoration that has you falling in love with him all over again.

"You are irresistible," you say, reaching for his hand again.

"Don't care. I don't want anyone looking at me if it means you and I never fight again."

You laugh and gently kiss his hand, flicking your gaze up at him, "we'll go look at paper bags for you to wear this weekend."

He removes his hand from yours to gently cup your cheek, thumb stroking over the swells lovingly.

"It's a date."

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whateveriwant · 5 months

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Hello, i hope you dont mind if i request agian! Could I get TF141 with an S/O who are just super prone to panic attack?

These are not meant to be taken as mental health advice. I'm just playing around here <3

Soap

The first time it happened, he didn't know what was going on. The sudden heavy breathing, the tremors, the loss of speech; he thought you were dying, honestly

It nearly sent him into a panic as he tried to figure out what he could do to help. Should you stay put or should you be taken to hospital? He just didn't know

However, once it had passed and you were able to better explain the situation, Soap was pulling you into a hug, the biggest breath of relief escaping him knowing you were going to be alright

He wasn't “happy” per se to learn this is something you struggle with regularly, but knowing there's at least something he could do to help in the future put his mind at ease

Nowadays he's got the drill down pat, so when he sees the signs an attack is incoming, he's whisking you to a safe environment where you can attempt to de-stress

Oftentimes it leads to him sitting beside you out on a curb somewhere, his warm hand rubbing soft circles into your back as he comforts you through it

Gaz

From the second he notices you start to pull away from him, Gaz is immediately on top of it, deploying a technique he's quite familiar with

“Tell me five things you can see,” he says, unbothered by having to repeat himself when you don't respond because he did not seriously just ask you that right now

But after enough prompting by him, you shakily list out five items, wet eyes darting around the room as you try to take stock of your surroundings

Once you do as bid, he'll continue, “Now four things you can hear.” And now you're starting to think you see where he's going with this

He'll work his way through all five senses, counting down to one, and once he reaches the final, you find that your pulse has slowed tremendously and your tremor has stopped entirely

Afterwards, you give him a shy thanks, asking how he knew that would work. “Simple,” he tells you. “Used to do it with my sister when we were young. It helped her then, so I thought it might help you now.”

Price

He takes the most heavy handed approach when trying to bring you down from such a rocky high. And while some people might find it smothering, you just see it as grounding

“Hey. Look at me,” his order is firm though his voice remains purposefully gentle. “Don't look anywhere else, just look at me. That's it. Just focus on me.”

If he has to, he'll even push a finger against your chin until you're meeting his eye and holding it, trying to focus on his soothing words instead of the anxious thoughts racing through your head

Slowly and deliberately, he'll breathe in through his nose then out through his mouth, guiding you to follow along with his measured pattern

If that's still not enough, he'll then take your hand beneath his and hold it over his heart, letting its strong, steady rhythm lull you back to a calmer state

“You alright?” he questions once you've settled down again. When you nod and assure him you are, he'll kiss your temple, promising, “I've got you, dear. Always.”

Ghost

When he realized what was happening with you, he quickly jumped into action, but in a way that was completely unexpected

“Remember when you first took me out for sushi and I didn't know wasabi was hot?” he asks you seemingly out of the blue. “Ate a whole spoonful before I realized. Burned like hell going down. But that was nothin’ compared to when it came out again later.”

The memory of that night stirs to life in your mind, and through your rapid breaths and trembling lips, you're able to crack the barest of smiles

He continues, “Or remember when I got sprayed by that skunk in the garden? You made me sleep on the couch for three days. Said I smelled like a garbage bin’s arsehole.”

That memory has you huffing out a short, low chuckle, and though you don't notice it, your pulse begins to hammer a little slower

And so he keeps going, distracting you with funny memories and personal anecdotes until all you're doing is smiling and laughing brightly, totally forgetting what had made you panic in the first place

1K notes · View notes

cupid-styles · 5 months

Text

only angel 2 (tattoorry/plugrry)

part two of tattorry is here!!!!! read part one here

in which y/n's parents still suck, harry can't stop thinking about his girl, and maybe there's a chance this'll all work out

word count: 8.5k

content warnings: angst (all solved in the end!), minor mentions of dieting/controlled eating, y/n has really awful parents (spoiler: there is one scene where her mom slaps her), weed mentions, a terrible date (one minor but inappropriate scene with unwanted non-sexual touching), smut (fingering, f receiving oral, dirty talk, spitting, tiniest bit of daddy kink)

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

As soon as Y/N's mother zeroes in on Harry's grasp around her daughter's waist, everything moves at a blurry pace.

In an instant, her hand is curled around Y/N's wrist, yanking her away from one of the only sources of comfort she's ever had. She gasps when she pulls her through the door and outside the bookstore, bile rising in her throat as her brain slowly pieces things together. She got caught. Applying to a job. With Harry holding her hand.

She's never going to be able to see him again.

Harry's quick to follow them outside, his mind whirring just as quickly.

"Excuse me!" he calls out as Y/N's mom drops her grasp from her, a stern expression on her face. She doesn't even look in Harry's direction but Y/N immediately blinks at him, her eyes wide with fear. "Excuse me, are you Y/N's mom?"

"Who the hell are you?" she hisses, instantly batting him away the second he takes a step forward. Y/N's chest feels tight as she clamors for words, panic rising in her throat.

"My name is Harry. I know your daughter—"

"Like hell you do." she spits, her eyes squinted and beady as she looks over Harry's appearance. It's clear on Y/N's face that she's never been this mortified before, but she can only hope it's because she got caught, not because she got caught with Harry. "I don't know what nonsense you've gotten yourself into, Y/N, but consider it done. We're going home."

The words are on the tip of Y/N's tongue — no, stop, please, I care about him, you don't understand — but the fear of her mother is too paralyzing. Again, her manicured fingers wrap tightly around Y/N's wrist and she pulls at her, making her stumble.

"Wait— Y/N, you can't seriously—"

"Enough," her mom sneers, tightening her grip, "What do you want? Money? Is that what you're after?"

"What?! No, I told you, I know Y/N—"

"Do you go to school with her? She knows better than to socialize with tattooed lowlives."

His jaw drops and his eyes dart back and forth from Y/N to her mother. Tears line her waterline and she sniffles, looking helpless and desperate — and Harry knows, he can see it right in front of his face how awful her parents are, that they're blatantly abusive and terrible people just because they have money, but for the first time, he actually feels anger bubble up in his throat. Not at her mom, but at Y/N.

"No, I don't go to school with her. Y/N, are you seriously going to let her talk to me like that?" he asks, an unusually harsh edge sharpening his voice.

Since this entire thing began, there's space for Y/N to speak — to potentially defend herself, defend Harry, or to do what she's always done and follow her mother's orders. She knows what she wants to do. Harry knows what he wants her to do.

But instead of taking any action, she flounders.

Harry can see it in her eyes — panic ravishing her body as she opens and closes her mouth like a fish. Normally, he'll tease her for that, but this time, he would do anything to hear her say something. Anything.

"Clearly you don't know one another at all. Y/N, we're going home. Now."

With a final yank, Y/N falls pliant in her mother's wishes, following her down the street to wherever her car is parked. Harry watches them walk away, sure that she'll turn around and come running back to him.

It's only when their forms become mixed in with the rest of the busy Manhattan sidewalk, little blobs he can barely make out, that he realizes she's not.

. . .

Y/N doesn't think she's ever felt so shitty in her life.

Her parents have disciplined her in the past for much smaller things — taking her car to campus, missing one of the dates they set up for her. Punishment always came in the form of the silent treatment paired with the confiscation of her car keys and the understanding that she was forbidden to leave the apartment.

This time is so much worse.

The second her mother unlocks her car and Y/N climbs in, she's on the receiving end of a piercing slap. She immediately winces and reaches up to cup her stinging cheek, tears streaming down her face from the image of Harry's hurt expression permanently seared into her memory. When she looks at the woman, she's seething.

"You're a disgrace."

Those are the only words she speaks to her the entire drive home.

When they get home, her mother is quick to lay down the ground rules: She's done with graduate school — according to her, they trusted her to know better and solely focus on her education, but they can't rely on her any longer. She'll start working at their company immediately. She'll go out on a date with Arthur Franklin, do what he wants, and marry into their family as soon as humanly possible. And lastly, she's never to be seen with "that boy" or anyone who looks like him ever again.

In two minutes, her life is drawn out for her in the most terrifying way. But she doesn't fight her. She knows it's a losing battle — one that her mother has been winning her entire life. Harry gave her a beautiful experience. He showed her what her life could have been like if she wasn't so scared.

And when she goes to bed that evening, without dinner of course (her parents gave Freya strict instructions not to make her a portion or allow her to cook anything in the kitchen), she cries for him.

She lets her tears soak into her pillow, dampening the fabric with every sob that breaks free from her chest, and desperately hopes that he doesn't hate her, even if she never sees him again.

. . .

To: Y/N, 11.19.23, 11:32 a.m.

It's been a few days.. just checking in to make sure you're doing okay.

To: Y/N, 11.20.23, 8:49 a.m.

Please just send me a text so I know you're alright.

To: Y/N, 11.22.23, 10:28 p.m.

Hey. I'm gonna wait outside your lecture hall tomorrow. I need to know you're okay. Please tell me if you don't want me to come, but I really need to see you.

To: Y/N, 11.23.23, 4:03 p.m.

Did you skip class today?

To: Y/N, 11.26.23, 1:28 a.m.

If you're avoiding me, that's fine, but this is driving me insane... please just give me a sign or something so I know you're okay. Please Y/N. You can't do this.

. . .

"I just think your father is a great businessman! He's one of the smartest men I've ever worked for and I think we could do something incredible together. Don't you think?"

Y/N gulps down another large sip of wine, flashing a tight smile to Arthur. She never drinks, but she decided that if she was getting through the night, alcohol would serve as a much-needed crutch. They're currently at some smarmy restaurant on the Upper East Side — apparently there's a waitlist of three months, but Arthur was able to just "make a call" and get them a reservation. Y/N thinks she was supposed to be impressed by that, but she could really care less.

It's been a week and a half since she saw Harry last. She never knew heartbreak could be so excruciating, but that line of thinking occurred before she met him.

In the 27 minutes since their date began — yes, Y/N's been counting — Arthur has only talked about her father. How incredible and smart he is, how he runs such a great business, how he can't wait to have a higher position in the company.

"Did you hear me?" Arthur asks, stuffing another piece of bread in his mouth.

"Yeah," she says curtly. "Sorry, did you want me to call my father so you could date him instead?"

Arthur forces out an awkward laugh. "You know, your mom said you had an unusual sense of humor... guess that's just part of your charm, huh?"

Y/N shrugs her shoulders as she picks at her pasta. She's looking straight ahead, eyes empty and zoning out when she thinks she sees a familiar head of long, unruly curls. She perks up, straightening her posture, ignoring Arthur when he assumes her change in body language is in response to whatever nonsense he's droning on about.

She wills the figure to turn around, her heart tugging — but when he does a mere moment later, she realizes it's not him, just someone with a similar haircut. Her shoulders slump, blinking as she watches the man gently guide his date to their table.

"Are you okay?"

Snapping out of her thoughts, she redirects her attention to Arthur. She swallows and nods her head.

"Yeah. Sorry, thought I saw someone I know."

He hums. "Hm, probably not. Like I said, this restaurant a three-month long waitlist. No one you know could be here."

"Right." she mutters. She drops her fork, suddenly feeling sick, and Arthur's eyes snap up at the clattering sound the metal makes against the ceramic plate.

"Be careful," he hisses, "This is a nice place, Y/N."

The sting to his tone is instantly reminiscent of her own parents' discipline. She cowers, mumbling out a half-hearted apology, and when she looks up to see his squinted eyes analyzing her every feature, anxiety is quick to spread through her chest and up her throat.

She knew it before tonight — that Arthur was essentially just an extension of her parents, but the fear and apprehension of leaving her family was too paralyzing. But in an instant, it clicked.

Sitting across from her, Arthur just looks so mean. A curl to his lips, an expression of disgust painted across his face as he studies her, his mouth open in preparation to scold her again.

She can't do this for the rest of her life.

She refuses to do this for the rest of her life.

Her heart is beating out of her chest, shaky hands grabbing the napkin folded neatly in her lap. She places it on the table, moving slowly in hopes that he won't notice, even if she knows it's impossible.

"What are you doing?" he asks tightly, eyebrows lowering as she stands from the table.

"I... I have to do something," Y/N mumbles, "I'm sorry. I have to go."

"What?" Arthur snaps, digging into his pocket to grab his wallet, throwing a few hundred dollar bills down on the table as she rushes out of the restaurant. He's quick to follow her, his stride much larger and faster than hers. He reaches out to grab her elbow and pulls her form to press against his body in the entryway. She gasps out in surprise, freezing her movements.

"Where are you going?" Arthur repeats through gritted teeth. "We're not done. We're on a date, Y/N."

She swallows and shakes her head jerkily, "I have to do something, I'm sorry, please let me go—"

"Your parents made a deal with me." he says, nostrils flaring, "You're done running. You're mine now."

Her stomach drops. A deal? She's not some kind of pawn in their game and she's not an object that can be moved around whenever they want. In an act of anger, she yanks her arm away from his grasp, taking a step back.

"I'm not yours. I'm not anybody's. Whatever deal you made with my parents is off."

She grabs the door handle and pushes it open, leaving Arthur — and whatever fucked up future they had planned for her — behind.

. . .

Harry hasn't been sleeping well.

It's from a combination of factors, but primarily, it's being on the receiving end of Y/N's silent treatment. He didn't think she would ever do this to him, but maybe he was too naive, looking at their relationship through rose-colored lenses and assuming she'd be strong enough to reject her parents in favor of him.

How stupid.

He sighs and glances at the clock on the wall of his office. When he was seeing Y/N, he never stayed at the shop later than 6 or 7, usually because she wanted to get home before her parents started to wonder. These days, he stays behind until midnight, trying to occupy himself with work so he doesn't have to go home and think about her.

And at first, he thinks he's hallucinating. Who would be knocking on the door to the shop at 9:30, especially with the clear and apparent closed sign? But then the fists get louder, and he wonders if it's someone drunk or high, looking to get a tattoo. (That certainly wouldn't be happening.)

Finally, he hears it — the faintest of familiar voices calling out his name, and he realizes he may not be imagining it.

He forces himself out, taking large footsteps to the front, his heart beating rapidly when he sees the helpless girl pounding on the door. Quickly, he unlocks it through furrowed brows, immediately letting her in when he sees the distress on her face.

"What's wrong?" he asks immediately, pulling Y/N inside. "What happened?"

Dried tears leave marks down the apples of her cheeks, her mascara clumpy and stained around her eyes. She sniffles and shakes her head. "I'm so sorry, Harry."

"Y/N, what's going on?" he repeats before locking the door back up. Carefully, he places a hand to the small of her back and guides her to the back, where his office is. He wordlessly encourages her to sit down on the blue velvet couch, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge and handing it to her.

"They're awful," she stammers, "My parents... I'm so sorry, Harry."

"Just tell me what happened," Harry murmurs, carefully rubbing the area between her shoulder blades, "Why are you crying? Did they do something? Are you hurt?"

She shrugs, eyes falling to her lap. "Everything's been terrible." she whispers. "They had me go on a date with someone they want me to marry — when I wanted to leave, he told me that my parents made a deal with him. That I'm his now."

"A deal?" Harry repeats, anger quickly bubbling under his skin, "What does that fucking mean?"

"I don't know. I didn't know about it until tonight."

"Did he do anything to you?" he asks, doing a quick once-over of her appearance. She doesn't look hurt, but she does look beautiful. It makes jealousy rise from the pit of his stomach, knowing she got dressed up for somebody else.

"No. He was really mean, but," she sniffles, shrugging again, "I don't know. He grabbed me."

"Where?" Harry growls. "Where did he grab you?"

Her eyes widen, "J-just my arm. When I was trying to leave, he, um, grabbed my elbow and pulled me back against him."

"Let me see."

Y/N wants to tell him that she's fine, immediately trying to downplay the act, but on the cab ride over, she had time to process how gross it made her feel. That he felt it was appropriate to touch her in that way just because she didn't want to be there — so she allows him to cautiously push up the sleeve of her sweater, analyzing the slightly reddened skin where his hand had been.

"You're not seeing him again," he mutters, carefully putting her arm down. He reaches over into his desk drawer and grabs a small container of Neosporin, dabbing a bit on the mark and rubbing it in with gentle fingertips. "I don't care if your parents want you to marry him. You will not be with someone who hurts you, Y/N."

"I know," she whispers, "I told him that I wasn't his. That whatever deal they had is off."

Harry's eyes widen. "You did?"

"Yes." she nods sullenly, "I realized that... well, I wanted to leave because I wanted to come see you. I don't want them to control me anymore. I want my own life."

"That's... that's huge, Y/N," Harry murmurs, resisting the urge to surge forward and wrap his arms around her, "What are you gonna do?"

She shrugs. "I haven't gotten that far yet, I guess. But the first step was seeing you and apologizing for that day with my mom."

"It hurt," he admits quietly. "Seeing you walk away... but I guess I didn't fully understand just how bad it was."

"I never wanted to walk away. They just scare me so much. She... she slapped me when we got in the car."

"Dovie," Harry breathes out, the pet name slipping from his mouth, "That's unacceptable, you know that, right? They're abusive."

"I do. I know they're bad." she pauses, swallowing harshly. "I don't want to go back there tonight."

Harry shakes his head. "You're never going back there at all."

. . .

Harry's apartment is cozy.

Y/N should have assumed as much, being that his mere presence essentially feels like a warm hug. But when he takes her back to his place and he hesitantly locks the door, murmuring out an apology about how messy things are, she can't but smile gently at all the very Harry decor touches: A record player next to a large collection of his favorite albums, framed pictures and polaroids tacked up onto his fridge of his friends, family, and loved ones, and just about ten cozy throw blankets and pillows strewn across his couch.

He apologizes for how small it is and Y/N scoffs — she couldn't care less about the size of his place, instead being completely enamored by the fact that it's his.

She's analyzing the refrigerator door, eyes glued to a photo strip of him and his sister when she feels a gentle hand at her hip, giving it a squeeze.

"Do you wanna change, dove?" Harry asks quietly, his breath ghosting over the back of her neck.

She nods, pinching at the fabric of her dress. Suddenly, her tights feel too restrictive and her feet ache from the heels her mother forced her into hours earlier.

"I don't have any clothes, though."

He chuckles lightly. "I can give you some, silly."

"Are you sure?" Y/N asks, turning to look at him. Her lips part nervously when she sees how close he is to her. "You're already doing so much for me tonight."

"What, would you prefer to waltz around naked, then?"

Her signature blush appears in seconds and it makes a lopsided grin appear nearly instantly on Harry's face. He can tell that she's about to whine his name out in her typical chagrined way and he laughs.

"Kidding, princess," he mumbles, "But I wouldn't mind if you wanted to."

"You're too much." Y/N grumbles, though the small smile on her lips says differently. She couldn't deny how much she missed Harry over the past two weeks — not only the place he holds in her life, but from a physical, intimate standpoint, too.

"C'mon, I'll get you some sweats."

She follows him to his bedroom, her stomach prickling with nerves as he guides her to the bed, instructing her to take a seat. He traipses over to his dresser and pulls out a pair of gray sweatpants and a baggy tee-shirt. It says hot and heavy on the back, and she remembers she blushed just from reading it the first time she saw him wear it.

He gives her a moment of privacy to change, shutting the bedroom door quietly. With a deep breath, she kicks her heels off, peels her tights down her legs, and pulls her dress up and over her body. It's a relief to finally change into cozy clothes that smell like Harry, and she can't believe she's really here — when they were seeing each other before, she'd dreamt of being able to go over to his house and see what it looked like. She was always just too scared that her parents would find her, or even call the cops when she didn't come home early enough.

Now, she still cares, but it feels like Harry's there to protect her — and that makes it seem a little less scary.

There's a knock at the door, pulling her from her thoughts. With her old clothes folded up neatly, she opens it, revealing a sleepy looking Harry.

"All changed?"

She nods, opening the door a little wider to reveal her appearance. His jaw drops and a single "fuck" leaves his lips.

Y/N's eyes widen, worried that she's done something wrong. Quickly, he flounders, stammering like she normally does.

"Are you alright?" she asks, a look of concern covering her face. He nods, swallowing harshly.

"Um. Yeah, sorry." he coughs into his hand, "Fuck, this is embarrassing— you just— um, you look really fucking hot in my clothes."

She raises her eyebrows, glancing down at the outfit. His sweatpants pool at her ankles and the shirt, which is oversized on his torso, goes down to the middle of her thighs. She supposes he may be able to see her breasts through the white fabric of the tee, but otherwise, she doesn't understand why it's such an attractive sight to him.

"Shit, I need to— I'm sorry, Y/N, this definitely isn't what you need tonight—" he's inching backwards and towards the bathroom on the side of the hallway when she sees it — a very large and apparent erection straining through his black jeans.

"Oh," she mumbles, "Do you...? We can, like, do stuff if you... if you wanted..."

"No!" he groans, turning to face the wall and pressing his forehead against it, "Just— no, dovie, thank you for the offer but I just feel like I'd be taking advantage of you after such a long night, yeah? So lemme just— I'm gonna take care of this in the bathroom and you can get comfy in the bed, okay?"

He's gone in a flash, the bathroom door locked before she even has a chance to reply. She bites her lip, hoping he's not secretly annoyed at her for asking if he wanted to do something sexual. She's too tired to overthink it though, so she turns on her heel, walks back into his room, and climbs under the blankets.

She's nearly asleep when he returns, soft footsteps padding across the length of the wood floors. She hears a quiet whisper of her name and she peeks an eye open to see Harry standing over her.

"'m gonna sleep outside on the couch, but let me know if you need anything, alright?"

She swallows, reaching out to grab his hand in a sleepy haze. His eyebrows raise as she bites her lip. "Can you just... stay for a minute? Until I fall back asleep?"

And truly, Harry couldn't deny her even if he wanted to.

So he nods his head and, to his surprise, she moves over so he has room to crawl in. He does, at first maintaining a sliver of distance between them, until she looks up at him, her hair mussed from laying back against his pillows, an expectant and wide-eyed look on her face.

"Need me to hold you, dovie?"

Y/N nods, immediately clinging to his body like a magnet. He smiles gently and wraps his arms around her form, pulling her onto her side and into his chest, smoothing her hair down as he presses an occasional kiss to her forehead. They've cuddled at the shop a few times, but nothing like this — not an all-consuming, full body experience that has Harry feeling like he's in heaven. She smells so good, her skin is so warm, and she's wrapped up in his clothes — he doesn't think he could ask for anything more in this moment.

Just as he thinks she's fallen asleep, he hears a soft voice muffled into his sweatshirt. He glances down, wondering if she's just talking in her sleep. Instead, he's met with tired, sweet eyes.

"What was that?" he whispers, swiping his knuckle lightly over her cheek.

"Thank you," she mumbles. "For today."

"I would do anything for you, princess. Hope you know that."

She yawns with a shake of her head. "That's a silly thing to promise."

. . .

When Y/N wakes up the next morning, she's under the weight of a long haired man that, for the past two weeks, only existed in her dreams.

It's jarring for him to actually exist in her reality now, but even more so that she stayed over at his place and slept in the same bed as him.

Less than 24 hours away from her parents and she's already crossed off another first off her list.

But the blissful moment of realization is quickly stripped away when the events of last night come flooding back to her — the date with Arthur, his rough nature, the supposed deal between him and her parents. Her parents who were an entirely different issue on their own — she feels a dull throb aching behind her temples just as the thought of how they're planning to lure her back, worry seeping into her bones when she realizes she hasn't checked her phone since they left the tattoo shop last night.

Harry must feel her panicked thoughts rising because he blinks his eyes open to see a prominent furrow between her eyebrows. Without her realizing it, he moves carefully, raising his thumb to smooth it away.

"What're you stressing about so early in the morning?" he rasps out. She swallows, moving onto her side to face him.

"They've probably issued out a search party by now."

"Mm, can't do that. You're not considered a missing person until it's been 48 hours."

His joke clearly doesn't land when Y/N squints her eyes at him. Instead, he quickly wraps his arm around her shoulders to pull her closer.

"It's gonna be okay, Y/N. I promised you would never go back there and I meant it," he explains lowly, pressing a light kiss to the shell of her ear. "What if you just text them and tell them that you're done? You're over 18, there's no reason why they can keep doing this."

Her eyes close as she relaxes into his chest, enjoying the sensation of his vibrating chest from his deep voice.

"I'm too scared to look at my phone." she admits quietly. "I can't imagine the mean things they've written to me."

"Do you want me to look?" Harry asks softly, using his hand to tilt her head up to look at him.

She shrugs. "If you do, can you maybe not tell me what they say? Just tell me the important stuff?"

"Course."

She nods and sits up, reaching onto his night stand for her phone. With a deep breath, she hands it to him before rolling over onto her other side to face the wall.

He runs his fingers up and down her spine as he goes through her missed texts. There's one or two from that prick Arthur, but they're nothing important — just an ask that she calls him when she's feeling better (he resists the urge to block his number altogether). But otherwise... well, he's admittedly shocked at what he finds.

"Is it bad?" she asks, wedging her thumbnail between her teeth.

"Um..." Harry presses his lips into a thin line, rolling them into his mouth. "You didn't block their numbers or anything, right?"

"No."

"Dove... I'm not quite sure how to tell you this, but... there's nothing."

She flips onto her back, a stunned expression painting her face. "What?"

"They didn't text or call, sweetheart. I'm... I don't know if that's a good or bad thing, but... you just had some missed texts from that guy from last night."

"How is that possible?" she asks when he hands her phone to her, "I— do you think they haven't noticed?"

"I'm not sure. You said they've been on you more often lately, I would assume that they'd be waiting up for you last night, right?"

She shrugs, "Yeah. Probably."

"On the other hand, though, it could mean that... well, maybe you're home free, dovie," Harry says, treading carefully in case he accidentally upsets her, "We can take the day to relax. I don't have to go into work today and we can figure out your next steps, if you'd like."

With a heavy sigh, she nods her head and sits up a little straighter, running her hand through her messy bedhead. "Do you mind if I take a shower?"

"Sure," Harry mumbles, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before allowing his feet to touch the chilly wood floor of his bedroom. "I'll get you set up in the bathroom."

She doesn't reply to that so Harry decides to leave her be, instead deciding to show his affection in an act of service. He starts by running the shower on the perfect temperature — not too hot but not too cool either, just so steam begins to steadily fill the room — and picks out his plushiest towels for when she's done. He finishes by lighting his favorite candle for her, moseying back out to his bedroom to fetch her a new pair of sweats.

She's on her feet when he returns, scrolling on her phone with her lips pressed into a straight line. Silently, he grabs another pair of his sweatpants and a tee-shirt and reaches out for her hand; a wordless request to follow him.

She does, pliantly, but not before peering up at him with eyes that tell him everything: She's sad. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out.

"Let me know if you need anything, okay?" Harry murmurs, folding her new clothes on the covered toilet seat. "You're obviously free to use whatever you want in there."

Swallowing harshly, she begins to tug at the hem of her borrowed tee-shirt before he has the chance to scamper out of the room. His eyes widen — he feels like a dick, she probably wants to be alone and now he's standing her ogling at her breasts like an idiot — but she simply stares at him with blank eyes.

"Can you... distract me?" she asks softly, her torso now bare, "It's— it's just been too much and I miss you. A lot."

Harry breathes in sharply. "I don't know if that's a good idea, dovie... it's been an emotional time for you."

"I know that," she mumbles, biting her bottom lip. "I just— I wanna feel normal again, Harry. Like how things were before. When we could just kiss and hang out and I didn't feel like I'm gonna burst into flames at any point."

"I know," Harry nods understandingly and bumps his hip against the sink. "But things are different now, princess. And I don't want to do something that you'll regret later because you were feeling down."

She shakes her head quickly, taking a step towards him. The steam from the shower has effectively warmed the bathroom, making beads of sweat pearl at his hairline. Well, that and the topless girl in front of him.

"I would never regret anything we do," she says, "Even when I tried to stay away from you, I didn't regret a single moment."

"Really?"

"Of course not," she replies, keeping her gaze set on him, "Sometimes, I, um... I even played with myself. Thinking of you."

"Jesus Christ."

He lets out a frustrated groan and closes the bathroom door, tugging his own tee-shirt up and over his body to reveal his heavily inked chest and arms. In a minute, his hands are on her, squeezing her sides as he presses her back against the wall.

"Tell me more," he mutters, leaning down and sponging kisses along her jawline and down to her neck. "What did you do? What did you think about?"

The sudden physicality makes it hard for her to breathe, let alone talk, but she tries to anyway, knowing that he'll tease her into oblivion if she doesn't at least make an attempt. With his fingers curling into the waistband of the sweatpants she wears, she tries to remember the nights when all she could think about was him.

"Thought about— oh—" her sentence is interrupted when he nips at the crook of her neck, his fingers dipping beneath her panties to lightly roll over her clit. She leans her head back but, as expected, he attempts to keep her on task, using his other hand to gently squeeze the sides of her neck. "T-thought about you touching me... l-like this."

"Like what?"

"This," she repeats through a gasp when he starts to apply a bit more pressure to her clit, pressing small circles into the nerves.

"Don't know what that means, dove. Gotta spell it out for me. Where was I touching you?"

Y/N moans when one of his fingers dips into her pulsating hole, just enough to make her clench, her knees weakening. He squeezes her neck again, this time a bit tighter, and her eyes roll back.

"Where was I touching you, Y/N?"

"D-down there." she says breathily.

"Down where?"

She knows there's no way she's getting out of this, and the rhythmic pulsing of her clit is only a reminder of the power he holds over her in this moment. She whimpers, swallowing harshly when he removes his finger, keeping the tip inside.

"Tell me," he encourages lowly, licking over the sensitive part of her neck he found a few weeks back. "Don't you wanna be my dirty girl again?"

"Y-you were touching my pussy." she mumbles, her cheeks burning. She can feel his smirk, the way his lips curl against her skin. As promised, he dips his finger back in, curling it up against the spot that has her fluttering her eyes closed, and resumes the soft circles into her clit.

"I was touching your pussy? That's a naughty thing for a sweet girl like you to imagine," he lowers, placing open-mouthed kisses down her naked chest. "And what were you doing while you thought of that, hm?"

Y/N gasps wetly as he pulses his finger steadily, a groan falling from his own lips when he feels her arousal gush out around his hand. Based on how long it took her to refer to her own anatomy, Harry doesn't have high expectations for her explaining how she touched herself, so it's a given that he'll help push her along.

"Did you grind your little clit on your hand?" he asks as he lowers to his knees, tugging the sweatpants down her legs and pressing kisses to her exposed stomach. "Or did you hump one of those cute stuffed animals you have on your bed?"

She pants heavily at that, a soundless lightbulb illuminating above his head. Bingo.

"Don't think I didn't notice those little stuffies in your bedroom from when you'd send me pretty pictures of yourself," he murmurs into her hips, nipping at the stretch marks on her stomach, "Is that what you would do when you thought of me? Hump your cute bunny, moaning, wishing I was there to take care of you?"

She nods her head, quickly and haphazardly. He pushes his lips over her mound, leaving open-mouthed kisses in his wake as he continues his journey down to her pussy. She's wet, perhaps even more so than he's ever seen her before, her juices leaking from where his finger is buried deep inside down to his wrist.

"Please," she whimpers from above, making him glance up at her, "Just— just want you. Please."

"You have me, dovie." he replies easily, pushing a second finger in and nestling it close to the first.

"N-no. Want you. All of you."

He swallows and sits back on his heels. She has no idea how badly he wants that, and if it were anyone else in the world, he'd probably say yes. But it's her — his sweet, innocent girl that showed up at his tattoo shop one day and hasn't left his brain for one second since — and he knows that right now isn't the time for them.

"I'll give you that as soon as things get better," he murmurs, keeping his gaze set on her. "But you deserve so much more than to be fucked for the first time against a bathroom wall. Wanna take you out, make it romantic."

She blinks, taking a moment to process his polite rejection, nevertheless slowly nodding her head. He leans forward and presses another light kiss to her mound, just below her stomach.

"Y'wanna know something, though?"

Again, she nods, and he begins to slowly curl his fingers up against her g-spot once more.

"I love the fact that I've corrupted you," he mutters, kissing down to her hood, right where her clit is peeking out. He licks just above there and she moans, pushing her hips out slightly as a wordless request to keep moving down. "Remember when you were that polite girl coming in with her friend? And now you're at my place, begging for my cock, asking me to take your virginity."

"Uh-huh," she mewls as his lips wrap around her clit, sucking perfectly in time with his thrusting fingers.

He pauses his movements for a moment, just enough for a demand: "Say it," he says, immediately returning to the assault on her most sensitive parts.

"Y-you corrupted me," she breathes, punctuating the sentiment with a whimper when he harshens his sucking, "I'm yours— oh, I'm yours, daddy—"

"That's right." he uses his other hand to part her pussy lips, spitting squarely on her clit, even if she doesn't need any more lubrication. He switches to kitten licking the bundle of nerves, feeling her hole beginning to clench violently around his fingers. "Cum for me like a good girl. Missed feeling your little pussy squeeze me like this."

That's all it takes for her to cum, her body feeling like it's exploding into a million stars as his tongue and fingers work her through the intense pleasure. He's groaning from the taste of her arousal that drools out from her pussy, the feeling of haphazard pulsations the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He loves watching her — her head ducked back slightly, her eyes squeezed closed, and the prettiest whimpers falling from plushy lips.

"S-sensitive," she finally stutters out and Harry nods, gently pulling his fingers out. They immediately find their way into his mouth as he rises back up to his feet. When he's finished licking them clean, he grabs her jaw.

"Open."

She does. Her lips part, opening her mouth, her pink tongue laying dormant inside. With a smirk, his eyes flicker up to hers before he spits into her mouth.

It takes her by surprise, her body jolting slightly, but her sensitive pussy twitches from the act.

"Swallow."

Slowly, she closes her mouth, swallowing the combination of his spit with her arousal. A moment later, she opens it again to show him there's nothing left.

"Fuck," he mutters. "Fuck, you're incredible."

She smiles gently, letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Can we shower now?"

Harry chuckles and nods, guiding her into the steaming stream of water.

. . .

"Okay, princess. Repeat the plan back to me."

Y/N is doing her best to fight off a panic attack as she sits in the passenger's seat of Harry's car. Swallowing harshly, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes as she restates the steps they'd decided on last night.

"We're gonna go up to their apartment and go straight to my bedroom. If they're there, I'm going to ignore them and let you do the talking. I won't listen to anything rude they say to me."

"That's right. What do we do when we're in your room?"

"We're gonna pack up my things, but only the necessities. Most things can be repurchased."

"Exactly. We're going for important things that you don't wanna leave behind."

She nods, watching the city streets slowly progress to the familiar high-end stores and supermarkets she grew up around. Suddenly, the blocks were far more sanitary and well taken care of. It made her stomach flutter in the worst way, being back here after spending the past few days at Harry's house in her newly preferred neighborhood.

In a stroke of luck, Harry had a friend that was looking for a roommate. Apparently, they'd worked together as tattoo apprentices a few years back and they still kept in touch. Her name was Lucy, and Harry had even set up a coffee date between the three of them so they could sit down before Y/N made any big decisions. She had been really nervous about it, but Lucy turned out to be incredibly nice and understanding.

Y/N explained her situation to her, only to receive an abundance of kindness in return — she said that she would love to have her move in with her, that she was a pretty quiet person to live with and worked most days while Y/N would be in school. (She missed around two weeks of classes because of her parents, but Harry convinced her to meet with her professors and tell them she had a family emergency. Thankfully, they were fine with it, and with a little extra studying and hunkering down, she thinks she can still end the semester with low Bs.)

With her living situation figured out and Y/N back to being a full-time student, the only thing left to address was her parents. In an ideal world, she would never have to deal with them again, but she knows that's unrealistic. They still haven't reached out to her despite it being a full week since she went back to Harry.

And while she wants to run away and abandon her former life, Harry convinced her that she had things she'd regret leaving behind. Not to mention, since starting grad school, she started saving money from her parents in the event that she somehow received an opportunity to get away from them. It wasn't enough to sustain her forever, but it would be good enough for a few months of bills and rent until she gets a job.

When Harry parks in the lot under her parents' apartment building, she feels nauseous. She ignores the sleek black Range Rover that's still parked in her assigned spot — she has no desire to take it, especially because it was just another way for her parents to pretend they were giving her freedom when they were just controlling her even more.

Wordlessly, they get in the elevator. Y/N's nibbling on her bottom lip to the point of near-blood draw while Harry thumbs over her knuckles, pressing a light kiss to her palm when the elevator dings at their arrival.

Standing outside of their apartment door, Y/N rolls her shoulders back to stand up straighter. She can feel Harry's presence close behind her and it brings her comfort, knowing that she's not going in this alone. He murmurs out a near-whisper of encouragement ("you can do this") before she punches in the door code. She's surprised when it works — she'd been half expecting them to change the codes so she couldn't come back.

Hesitantly and with intertwined fingers, Y/N leads them to her bedroom. The apartment is silent, which typically means her parents are gone, but her anxiety is too overwhelming for her to trust it.

Which she supposes is for good reason, because when she opens the door to her room, her mother is sitting on her bed.

"Y/N," she says, eyes roaming inquisitively from her daughter to the man she's holding hands with. "I saw you coming up on the security cameras."

A bead of panic drips down her spine. Harry squeezes her hand and steps forward, clearly prepared to reply, when Y/N stops him.

"Why are you here?" Y/N asks. Harry looks at her with a confused expression but he takes a step back, ready to defend her if needed. "You haven't contacted me for a week."

"Well, this is my property, Y/N. You're trespassing."

"Okay." she sighs, looking up at Harry. "Just give us a minute then, we just want to grab some of my stuff and we'll be gone."

"And this is who you'll be living with?" her mom quirks an eyebrow. "This... person from the bookstore that day?"

"He tried talking to you. You had no interest."

"Well I would think you would defend your boyfriend better than that. How was I supposed to know?"

Y/N grits her teeth and shakes her head, "Again, mother, just give us a minute. I'm not taking any furniture or anything valuable, just a few keepsakes."

"You're abandoning this family, I hope you know that," her mother spits as Y/N begins to rustle through her desk, grabbing some pictures and notebooks. Silently, she hands them to Harry, who carefully slips everything in the tote bag around his shoulder. "Your father is so disappointed. So are the Franklins! I mean, you left Arthur alone like that on your first date! And for what, a lifetime of struggling for money?"

"Not everything is about money!" Y/N exclaims, turning around. Harry's eyebrows shoot up — he's never seen her get angry before. "Besides that, you promised me off to Arthur like I'm some kind of object! Who does that?!"

"It was for the better of the company and the family, Y/N, don't be dramatic—"

"Well I didn't want that! I never did!" she shouts, "I want to live my own life! With my boyfriend! Who, by the way, I'm not living with! He's just helping me get on my feet, but even if I was moving in with him, it wouldn't matter, because it's not your life! You don't get to make my decisions anymore!"

Her mother scoffs and Y/N rolls her eyes. When she finds her envelope of money deep at the bottom of her dresser, she grabs a few pairs of pants and sweaters, sticking it between the layers of fabric to pass off to Harry. He tucks them all away.

"You know you're cut off after this, right?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. "This is it. You walk out that door, you're never allowed back. Don't ask us for a single cent."

Bristled, Y/N lets out a humorless chuckle as she heads for the door, Harry right behind her. They cross the length of the apartment and she slams the down button to the elevator, turning around to look at her mother for the last time.

"I never want to come back, mother. Goodbye."

The click of her mother's heels are the last thing she hears as they enter the elevator and ride down to the parking lot.

. . .

When they get into Harry's car, he realizes it's been a solid five minutes since Y/N has said anything.

He doesn't want to pressure her — he knows that what just happened was a lot, and when he was reading articles like how to help your partner leave an abusive family last night, they all instructed him to go at her pace. So, that's what he decides to do.

The interior of the car is silent as they drive out of the lot and away from her parents, the boring, dull building just a reflection in the rearview mirror. He doesn't want to turn the radio on and make it seem like he doesn't care, but he also doesn't want to say something stupid and upset her further.

It's only when he hears a sound resembling a giggle that he looks over at Y/N, a concerned furrow in his brow.

But she is laughing.

The most beautiful grin is covering her face as she lets out loud laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks. She shakes her head, looking at Harry, whose confused expression only makes her laugh even harder.

"Dovie, are you alright?" he asks, pulling the car over in preparation for a full meltdown.

"I—" her words are cut off by another peel of laughter and she takes another moment to pull herself together, "Oh my god— I would've done that years ago if I knew it'd be that easy!"

This time, Harry chuckles, a wave of relief washing over him.

"I'm so proud of you," he says, leaning over to pull her hands into his lap. "You stood up for yourself. You left. I couldn't be happier for you."

"Thank you," she bubbles, her cheeks flushed from her laughter, "I'm so happy. Thank you so much, Harry... I'm just so thankful for you."

He shakes his head, "I'll do anything for you, princess."

Y/N leans over to kiss him lightly, a smile continuing to curl at the edges of her lips. "I love you, you know."

Harry grins.

"Yeah, I love you, too."

. . .

The bell above the front door of St. Mark's Social Club rings as Y/N steps inside. She smiles politely at Jo, the kind receptionist that sits at the front desk (the same one that checked Mai in a few months ago). She's still getting comfortable with all the different employees and characters that come in and out of Harry's tattoo shop, but her socialization skills have definitely improved since moving out.

She walked over as soon as she got out of class. Lately, she's been staying on campus a bit later to do some studying for finals, but today's Friday. Over the past few weeks as Y/N's adjusted to her new life of living on her own and officially dating Harry, they've designated Friday nights as theirs, whether it mean curling up on the couch with a pizza or heading out to a bar with some of Harry's employees. (More often than not, it's the former — despite Harry being the more social of the two, he's always eager to get his hands on her after a day of being away from one another.)

He's wrapping up his last client of the day when Y/N peeks into his station, waving with a small smile. Harry's stoic and focused expression instantly transforms into one of excitement.

"Hey dove," he greets as he tears off a clear piece of plastic to cover his client's new tattoo. (Y/N's since learned that it's called Saniderm, and it's apparently some way of helping fresh tattoos heal faster.) "You can put your stuff down in my office, I'll be there in a sec."

She nods and bounces off to the small room at the end of the hallway. Instantly, she lays back against the velvet couch in the corner, placing her backpack on the floor. As promised, Harry walks in a few minutes later, pulling off his plastic gloves and tossing them in the garbage can.

"How was your day?" he asks, leaning down to peck her lips. She hums, hands in her lap as he smiles down at her.

"Good. Class was boring, I was excited to come see you."

"Oh yeah?" he smirks, "You better have been paying attention and not letting your mind wander with those dirty thoughts of yours."

Y/N rolls her eyes. "Harry, you're the one that tries to have phone sex, like, every night."

"We'll get there one day, I think."

She laughs and shakes her head, crossing her legs. "What are you in the mood to eat for dinner tonight?"

"Mm, not sure," he replies, "I forgot, I have one deal to do before we head out for the day. 's why I came around to begin with. I hope that's alright."

She nods her head, "Yeah, that's fine."

"Thanks, princess," he murmurs, leaning forward to press a light kiss to her nose. "Who'd have thought, three months ago yo@u'd be dating the hot tattoo artist that sells weed on the side?"

"You're silly," she mumbles with a giggle, "But... to be honest, I never thought this is what my life would look like three months ago."

"I'm sure. Are you happy with it, though?"

Y/N has to bite her lip from grinning too hard.

"I don't think I could be any happier, Harry."

She squeals when he pushes her back against the length of the sofa to press kisses all over her face.

. . .

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