#please tell me this make sense to you I can pull up receipts

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum of All 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your legs feel empty, like there’s no blood flowing beneath your waist. You walk beside Rogers, feeling as if you might fall on your face at any time. That’s probably not a good idea seeing as you’ve already knocked out twice within the last hour or two. 

He stops and steps ahead of you. He points to a door before he pushes it open, “in here.” 

You enter as he waits. For a moment, you worry it could be a sinister trick. That he’ll slam the door and lock you in. But why would he do that? Well, why would he beat a man in the middle of the street? 

Thinking of it again, you feel nauseous. 

You look around the room. There’s a desk with folders stacked on it. The chair looks like it was manufactured during your great grandfather’s war and the rug can’t be much newer. The curtains are damask and the walls are real hardwood. 

“It’s... nice,” you say, “vintage. Looks like the floor’s been refinished.” 

“You’re not here to discuss the decor,” he retorts. 

“Of course,” you agree as you twiddle your fingers. “What exactly am I here for, er, sir?” 

“You’re an accountant.” He states. 

“I am.” 

He sighs and crosses to the desk. You cautiously follow. You could tip over all over again. 

“Sir, do you mind if I sit?” You ask. 

He just waves a hand toward the chair. You thank him and gratefully claim the seat. Who knew fainting was so exhausting? 

“Man named Warren. I need you to tally it all up. Tell me what you find.” He explains.  

“Alright, so I’m balancing his ledger,” you nod. 

“Sure,” Rogers sniffs and tucks his hands into his pockets. He backs up and paces across the end of the rug. “You need some water? You gonna check out again?” 

“Oh, I have some,” you put your briefcase on the desk and pull out your water bottle. “Thank you. That’s super kind. I can, uh, start on all this.” 

He turns back to you, “fine.” 

You smile as best you can as his hand runs up his lapel and draws your attention. Again, his knuckles fill you with queasiness. The bruises are the cherry on top of this whole messed up situation. 

He pulls his hand back and looks at it. You realise he caught you staring. You clear your throat. 

“Looks pretty bad,” he remarks. 

“Um, yeah. Pretty bad,” you agree softly. “Look like they’re swelling. Could probably use some ice.” 

He examines his hand further and clicks his tongue, “probably.” He drops his arm. “Well, get to work. Don’t got time to waste.” 

“Got it,” you assure him and reach for a folder. 

He goes and you glance up right as he disappears through the door. He might be gone but your anxiety lingers. These are dangerous men, this is a dangerous place. 

While you wouldn’t want an old lady like Geraldine caught up in all of this, why did it have to be you? It’s just like Mr. Brenner to be tangled up with criminals. And now you’re looking through promissory letters and gum wrappers with scribbles on them. This isn’t going to be easy, especially without a computer. 

Rogers returns. He sits in the leather armchair near the window. He holds a bundle wrapped in a cloth against his hand. It must be ice. 

You pull out a receipt. Half of it is illegible beneath the crimson stain. Little droplets trail over the numbers you can kind of make out. Oh. 

“Is that blood?” You ask out loud, then feel yourself plunging forward. 

Your head hits the desk. You’re a bit foggy but still awake. You gurgle and push yourself up. You fall stiffly back against the chair and it lurches with your weight. 

Rogers appears across the desk from you. You stare at him as you grip the armrest and blow out between your lips. He squints as he comes around to your side. 

“Hey, sweetheart, stay with me,” he grabs your chin and you whimper. “Eh, don’t--” 

He taps your cheek with his fingers. It’s a gentle gesture. His hand is cold from the ice. 

“I’m good,” your murmur. “I just... I’m not a violent person.” You carefully touch his wrist and he lets you go. “Not that I’m saying anything about you. Or what happened earlier. I’m just... look at me, right? Just an accountant.” 

He nods.  

“You think I overreacted,” he intones. 

“I didn’t say... it’s none of my business, right?” You move aside the bloody receipt and wheel closer to the desk. “Numbers are my business.” 

He hums, “sure.” 

You concentrate, or pretend to, on the folder before you. There’s a lot to sort out, and you mean, more than the clutter. Your mind is racing and you can’t quite decipher anything you’re reading with the fear coursing through you. 

“I’ll be back,” he says abruptly as he backs away. “Don't leave this room.” 

You don’t need him to give the command. You wouldn’t dare wander around this place on your own. You nod, “I won’t, sir.” 

He spins on his heel and struts across the office. You only look up as he gets to the door. He leaves and you lean back in the chair. You can’t let your panic take over. The quicker you get through this, the quicker you can get out of here, and hopefully, never ever come back. 

You set yourself straight, fixing your posture, and set to your mission. You might not have the most experience, but you’re determined and you do know what you’re doing. All those places that never replied or sent you those template rejections, they have no idea. 

You hunker down, filling the margins in the ledger, row by row. You are enthralled the more you do. It’s like a story unfolding before you. Dates, amounts, locations. Huh, well, this might be some bad news. You really don’t want to be the one to deliver it. 

Don’t be too eager. That’s only the first folder. You scratch down another number and flinch as something lands on the desk. 

You sit up and stare at the paper bag. Rogers watches you across the desk. Your brows twitch in confusion. He huffs and opens the top of the bag. 

“Figured you might not pass out if you eat something,” he takes out a wrapped bagel and holds it out. “Cream cheese, sesame seed.” 

“Oh, yum, I mean, thanks,” you accept it. “That’s really... considerate.” 

“I can be,” his eyes narrow. 

“Of course, I wasn’t saying... anything. Just thank you,” you slowly unwrap the bagel. 

He takes out his own and sits in the armchair. You peel back the paper and take a quarter of the bagel. You bite into it, careful not to get any crumbs on the desk. 

It might not be the best day, very close to the worst, but you can’t complain for a free meal. 

[jadeee]

Living with Nanami - Part 2

feel free to read part 1 here 🛋️ I poured my heart into the first one and what do you know, I did the same thing here. this is incredibly long so consider youreself warned.

Not a lot of pillows on the couch or bed. It's just not practical. Honestly, he doesn't really care too much about this so he lets you have free reign. As long as it's comfortable enough to relax on, he's happy.

If you're like most people, your plants are barely surviving. They only get water when you remember. You don't think much about re-potting them, fluffing the soil, or moving them toward the sun from time to time; so, that unintentionally becomes Nanami's part time job. He can'r just leave them to die! Because then you'll complain, then buy another plant only for it to wilt within a matter of days.

The routine he develops is actually quite nice. He takes care of your plants every Saturday morning while you're still in bed - wiping their leaves of dust, checking how damp the soil is, looking for pests. When you comment on how well they're growing he simply says "Yes, they are," feeling a bit of pride swell in his chest.

Self-insert: One night, you two paint some terracotta pots together. Nanami isn't really sure what he's doing. He's not very artsy or creative; it comes so naturally to you and he's a bit envious because you make it look easy. The corner of his mouth was tight as he dragged the paint brush across the fragile pot in his hand. When he pulled back, he eyed it with obvious disappointment. {** pls read the footnote to hear the inspo behind this}

You sensed your husband's uneasiness like an incoming storm. "Ken, let me see." your voice was soft as you leaned over and he turned his handiwork toward you. Your eyes tried to make sense out of the shapes and lines.

"It's supposed to be an animal."

"... oh..."

"Is it really that bad?"

Heat filled your face "What?! No! It's," you studied the piece "abstract."

A soft grumble left him then but he perked up when you grabbed his artwork from him then started to add to it. After a moment, you flashed him the newly improved piece which was another little creature by the animal along with your shared initials. A remnant of a smile flashed across his face.

If you read part 1, do you remember that special framed object I mentioned? It's actually a memento from one of your earlier dates. You're cleaning your purse out one day when Kento walks over and notices an old receipt. He's a bit surprised when you don't throw it out. A smile forms when he hears you say "It means a lot to me." Because it's personal, it's in the bedroom away from prying eyes. Whenever he looks at it, he remembers that moment and it makes him feel warm, safe... loved.

Please don't hang those pictures and things on your own. He doesn't want you to accidentally fall or hurt yourself, so he prefers to do it. Maybe it's just me but I get the feeling these would be perfectly hung. Nice and straight, not slightly crooked.

Always interested to see how you'll redecorate the place when you get "bored". He'll study your Pinterest board and even search for things in his free time -- although he may not tell you. When I say 'search', I mean he's a collaborator on your board so he's adding notes and inspiration when he has the time but he's also searching for what you have so you can actually put it into your home. Imagine coming home one day to a package and he's not there yet. You: Hey, did you order this? *image* Kento: I did. I was hoping to get home first so I could set it up as a surprise. You: Aww! What is it? Kento: Don't open it. Just wait until I get there. You: Okay .... but what is it? Kento: Don't. Open. It. You: But.. Kento: 🫥 You: 🧍‍♀️... please? Kento: No. You: .... just a peek? Kento: (y/n), no. ~His sixth sense kicked in when you didn't respond right away.~ Kento: You did it anyway, didn't you? You: Sorry, I couldn't help it but aaahhhh I LOVE IT! TYSM! 🥰 Kento: You can be so impatient. You're welcome ❤️ Just don't set it up without me, ok? I don't want you to hurt yourself. You: Okay 😊 thank you, dear darling husband💐 Kento: You're welcome, sweetheart ❤️ I love you. You: I love you too, prob more Kento: Oh, don't start. You: 🤭

Side note: he really loves when you call him sweet little nicknames or things like 'darling'. No one's ever seen him in that light so you calling him something so soft and endearing makes his heart sing.

In regard to texting and all things tech, he's a fast learner but he doesn't dedicate himself to keeping up with these kind of things. So when you mention a new game system or getting a DVD player or projector {I saw a tiktok months ago where this lady's living room setup was a projector instead of a TV and now I want one} he's a bit indifferent. He doesn't really care as long as it's not costly and smthn you'll only use sparingly, go for it. Don't be surprised when he starts using it though, after you teach him ofc lol. Imagine coming home early after runngin errands and he's playing your switch 😂 I can also see him using emojis without knowing their intent {example: the sweat emoji}. If you get a DVD player or have anything similar, he actually loves it. He's a milennial {hope I got that right} so the whole thing is nostalgic for him. It makes him feel young again.

He'd have a few special movies that are close to his heart and remind him of better days before he met you. I'd bet everything I own that he has a DVD of the movie(s), he and Yu would watch. He doesn't watch it at first because he already tears up just holding it in his hand so it sits on the shelf for a while. When you inquire about it, he briefly talks about it. He's already told you about Yu and his entire past so you're not surprised. He loves how you don't push him to talk any further though, you're a quiet comfort and he couldn't ask for anything more. One day, he does watch the movie though, I'd imagine it's when he's by himself. 9 times out of 10 it's some horrible comedy. Yu loved it and Nanami only suffered through it for his friend's sake. As the movie plays on, he chuckles at some horrible joke then gets teary eyed when he hears the echoes of Yu's laughter in his mind. "Y'know he'd be proud of you, right?" he hears your words playback in his head then wipes his tears.

He's a laundry wizard. I remember seeing a post a long time ago that said smthn like 'we know he's great at laundry because how does he get all the blood off his clothes'. Can't find it but shoutout to the OP. This would honestly come in clutch for whatever period incidents you have {bc it happens}. I love this though bc he's completely unfazed when it first happens. He sees you rushing to the bathroom and watches you try to get it out then just says he can take care of it. Imagine just watching him to learn 😭he gets a little flustered but tries to maintain his seriousness.

"Wait," you move closer to him until you're peering over his shoulder. Your scent envelops him and he hates how quickly the blood rushes to his cheeks.

"Hm?" he stops working at the stain then looks back at you.

"How much of that stuff did you use?"

"Just a capful."

"Oh, okay." you remain close to him "Continue."

He didn't speak. He couldn't so he just did as told, rubbing out the stain with you hovering over his shoulder.

Actually gets a bit upset when he sees you taking the trash out for the first time. He doesn't yell but he simply stands by you and takes the bag out of your hands with a "I've got it". Tradition gets the best of him at times. His reasoning is that he "doesn't want you to get your hands dirty".

Everything has a designated spot. He'd prefer if you don't move things but if you must, at least tell him first. This actually made me think of the "Honey, where's my super suit?!" scene from The Incredibles lol.

The welcome mat at the front door is what solidified it for him. Seeing it everyday when he unlocks the door just makes him feel so warm. When his eyes land on you popping your head out of the kitchen to greet him with a brief "hey!" they tear up just a bit. He sheds his coat and shoes then walks into the kitchen to wrap his arms around you and bury his head in the crook of your neck. You chuckle out of surprise then wrap your arms around him "Are you ok?" Your fingers find their way to his undercut to give him that comforting caress. He blesses you with one of those low hums of contentment.

Domesticity really brings out the softer side of him. Don't get me wrong, it was always there but the fact that you two now have a place to call your own. It's not an apartment or a small shared space but a house that you've turned into a home. He can paint the walls with you, build a garden, maybe a nursery... he can live here. He can be happy... he can be happy with you.

You don't know he's thinking all of this though. All you know is that one morning, you're glancing out the window and see your husband painting the mailbox. The fabric of your houserobe feels warm on your skin as you step outside. "What are you do-" your eyes land on the white paint of his unfinished work which reads "Nan" in white paint. "I figured we'd be here for a while." he glances at you with rosy cheeks, still holding the paintbrush in his hand. "Where's mine?" He chuckles and hands you his paintbrush then places a kiss on the top of your head. For once, and more to come, he let himself smile fully as he watches you add "a" to your shared last name. "Y'know darling, you shouldn't be out here dressed like that. People may want you for themselves." "I guess you'll have to let them know I'm your wife then." you glance back at him with a smirk then face forward to finish the last detail of your work. When you turn around to hand him the paintbrush, he barely grips it before pulling you in for a brief kiss. The morning feels cool on his skin. The birds are chirping... are they bluejays? He'd find out tomorrow when he wakes up by your side and hears them again.

Author's Note: I think we've established I'm sick for this man made up of lines and colors.

** In season 1, episode 3 of Life Lessons with Uramichi Oniisan, there's a scene where Uramichi is watching TV and a commercial pops up for the viewer to take a psychological test by drawing simple pictures. One of the pictures is an animal and he draws a dog. He then has to send the picture to other people to see if they can accurately guess what it is and it's meant to show if he/the viewer has personality issues. You should be able to watch the full clip here, just go to 21:00! Lmk if the link works or not - this is honestly such a favorite of mine and I haven't even finished it.

p.s.: I found out about the show when I used to work at the mall, LUSH for pple who are curious, and one of the girls/a customer had this really cool tattoo of this funky looking bird. Idk what it was so ofc I had to ask - then she tells me that her and her friend, who was by her side, have matching ones and that it's from Life Lessons with Uramichi Oniisan! I made sure to watch the show when I had time and even though I haven't finished it, I plan on it. He's so relatable, too relatable lmbo, and I can see some similarites between Kento and he; so now I have to finish it, right?

p.p.s: if you read all that, here's your reward lol 🧋🌼🥠🍎🫂

[sionisjaune]

Neighbour AU + Mutual pining (mickcedes or brocedes please) 💙

[Trope mash up prompts] This might have to become a series, because I got 1k into this and realized I hadn't even gotten to the mutual pining! But here you go, mickcedes monaco neighbours AU:

After breaking up with his girlfriend of four years, Mick musters the courage to ask Seb for his realtor so he can get the hell out of his sister’s place. Gina is awesome—the best sister Mick could ask for—but it’s clear that she’s become somewhat peeved after six weeks of taking care of her older brother.

Seb’s realtor is a terrifying blonde woman named Britta, and when Mick meets her for coffee—black for Britta and a cappuccino for Mick—she pulls up a map of Europe on her phone, holds it out to Mick and says, “Where do you want to go?” 

Mick swallows. He has the force of his family’s bank account behind him, which really means he could go anywhere. He pictures himself in the UK, in Greece, in Norway, in a beautiful island cottage in Croatia and says, “I’ve always wanted to live in Monaco.” 

“Monaco,” says Britta, tilting her head in consideration. “We can do Monaco.” 

-

Three days later, Britta texts Mick a plane ticket to Nice, the receipt for a rental car, and a link to tour a residential high rise virtually. Mick opens the link and flips through images of a sun-drenched condo on the sixth floor. He’s not much of a designer, but he imagines a dining room table beside the french doors that open onto the balcony, a flatscreen on the wall of the living room, and family photos on the mantel. 

He could live with it, he thinks. I like it, he texts Britta. 

-

Britta holds open the door for Mick, awfully gentlemanly, and nods at the doorman like she’s already met him. The lobby is bright and modern, and a plaque made from sun-bleached driftwood reads BIENVENUE on the front desk. 

The elevator ride to the sixth floor is uneventful, Britta and Mick leaning against opposite walls. The floor numbers tick upwards on the LED panel above the door. Britta tucks her hands behind her back and assesses Mick coolly. 

“You know,” she says, conversationally. “If Sebastian ever treats you unfairly, you can tell me, and I’ll sort him out. He can be a selfish little man when he isn’t thinking straight.” 

“Thanks,” Mick squeaks, willing the elevator doors to open. It’s difficult to categorize anything Seb does as unfair when Mick still has stars in his eyes looking at him. It’s Sebastian Vettel, his dad’s protege. 

“I’m serious,” says Britta, fiercely. 

As if sensing Mick’s discomfort, the elevator jolts to a halt, and a ding signals their arrival at the sixth floor. Britta makes an after you kind of gesture, and Mick slips out of the elevator. 

-

When Mick and Britta are done touring the apartment, Mick accepts Britta’s offer to show him around the city. He’s been here before on family vacations, but not since… Well, that doesn’t bear thinking about. 

Britta locks the door to the apartment behind them, and Mick turns around to stride towards the elevator, and runs smack into another body carrying a box of something green.

“Desole,” says Mick, mustering disused French. He shoots an arm out to help the stranger balance his box of what looks like—asparagus and artichokes and various varieties of leafy greens.

“Pas grave,” says the stranger, clutching his box of produce to his chest. Mick pulls back, and the stranger transfers the box to one arm, using his freed hand to sweep the hair out of his eyes. 

The stranger is bright blonde with fine wrinkles at the corners of turquoise eyes like he’s older than his otherwise smooth features suggest. He’s dressed in linen from head to toe, a pair of designer sandals on his feet that Mick only recognizes from his mother’s beach wardrobe. 

Britta snorts behind him. The stranger looks past Mick and wrinkles his nose at her. 

The awkward encounter is over in a matter of seconds, and the stranger is brushing past Mick, presumably to get to his apartment, while Britta ushers Mick towards the elevator. Mick shakes his head clear while Britta pushes the button for the lobby. 

“Do you know him?” Mick asks. 

“Ha,” says Britta, a thin smile growing on her jaw. “Sebastian does. That’s Nico Rosberg, an angel investor in the sustainable energy sector. He lives in Monaco with his husband, a designer.” 

“Rosberg as in Keke Rosberg?” says Mick. 

“That’s the one,” says Britta.

-

A month later, Mick finds himself on a plane to Nice for the second time, his most important belongings crammed in a mountain of suitcases and stowed with the rest of the luggage. Seb offered to fly with him and help Mick set up, but Mick felt somewhat guilty for stealing Britta for so long and wanted to prove to no one in particular that he could make the move by himself. 

He retrieves his new keys from the front desk, and after an afternoon he has most of the important things assembled, which is to say a toaster, an espresso machine and a bedframe. He opens his laptop and half-heartedly scrolls through an online furniture store, but gives up on the third page of bespoke credenzas. He doesn’t even know where he would put a credenza. 

In the end, he wraps himself up in the one sheet he bothered to bring with him and passes out on top of the mattress. 

-

Mick wakes to a knock on his door. He experiences a fleeting thought that he’s still staying with his sister, and it’s her boyfriend knocking on the door to take her out for breakfast before he realizes he’s in his new apartment in Monaco and Gina is thousands of kilometres away. He flings the sheet off his torso, still wearing yesterday’s t-shirt and joggers, and slogs through the apartment to answer the door. 

When Mick tugs the door open, Nico Rosberg is standing on the other side, a basket of greens once again clutched in his hands. Another man, with a deeper complexion, stylish facial hair, and a face stacked with piercings, stands at his shoulder, looking somewhat bored. 

“Hi?” says Mick, uncertain. 

“Hello neighbour!” says Nico Rosberg, foisting the basket on Mick. “We wondered when you’d move in. I’m Nico, and this is my partner Lewis. We live two doors down.” Nico gestures vaguely at the other end of the hallway. “Lewis, say hello,” he sing-songs. 

“Hey, man,” says Lewis. 

“Uh,” says Mick, struggling under his new armful of kale and other vegetables. “Thanks? Can I…” he glances backwards into the apartment and notes the kitchen, which is empty of everything but the toaster and coffee machine. “Invite you in for coffee?”

Nico laughs ebulliently. “Of course not. We wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of your hospitality when you’ve just moved in. If you need anything from us, though, just knock.” He grins flatly at Mick, lips closed. Something about it reminds Mick of Britta. 

“Thanks,” says Mick. “I’ll just…” he breaks off. 

“Great,” says Nico, still smiling his flat smile. “Wonderful to meet you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you around.” 

Nico spins on his heel, links his arm through Lewis’s and tugs him down the hall. Mick blinks, steadying himself, and nudges the door closed with his foot, hauling the basket of produce into the kitchen. He sets it on the counter and pulls back to scrutinize it. What the fuck is he going to do with 10 kilos of kale?

[strwberri-milk]

Okay!! I got the perfect idea for the req 😈

Kaeya sending his wife!reader suggestive pics when she's at work and she gets very shy seeing it but ignores him bc she has to get work done. When she gets home he's in a very revealing outfit, he pins her down on the bed & only rides her strap to get back at her. He does praise her a lot tho and promises to reward her if she's being good & stays still. ofc its dom!kaeya and subby reader🤭 (im uncomfy with being degraded so i'd appreciate it if u keep that out in the fic) thank you <3

Please tell me what u think of this ask 💗

thank you for the request <33 i love this kind of kaeya sm and i hope you like this!! i gotta start working on some of my fluff for kaeya to counteract all the smut ive been writing recently lolol

Payback's A Bitch

Kaeya x AFAB, Fem Reader || Smut || 2 641 words

“And, perfect!” 

Kaeya grins to himself as he scrolls through the photos on his phone. All of them present him scantily clad, eye hooded and hand resting delicately on his waist. His fingers toy with the hem of his sweatpants, pulling it in such a way that it begins to reveal the hair at the base of his navel while simultaneously outlining his hard cock. 

He knows that his lovely little wife is going to absolutely love the photo he’s taken, sending it to you with a grin on his face. Thankfully, you’ve left your read receipts on so he can see that you’ve seen the message. He watches excitedly to see those little bubbles pop up on the other side, anxious to see your response. 

All he gets is the slow passage of time and no response from you. It’s not like you not to respond – anything he sends you is usually at least given an emoji or something really sloppily typed. As far as he knows, you just merely glanced at it and didn’t realise fully what he sent because he had too many clothes. 

He strips down a little more, taking off his shirt and eye patch. This time, his pants are pulled down far enough to see the beginnings of his shaft, poorly hidden under his boxers. Kaeya quickly sends that off, not expecting you to see it immediately yet no response. 

At this point he tries a barrage of images, only to be left on seen. At some point you stop looking, not even when he sends a video. It’s clear to him that he’s being ignored, but unfortunately for you his cunning mind was not about to let that happen without any sort of retaliation. 

“Kaeya? I’m home,” you call out, pulling your phone out again to read his very straightforward message. 

Get ready and find me. Check the box at the door. 

The box in question contains Kaeya’s new favourite strap-on. Your face flushes a little as you imagine a needy Kaeya at your feet, clearly worked up from all the photos and videos he sent you throughout your day at work. You’re not sure what he’s got in mind but you know that he’s got you all melted down in the palm of his hand, more than just a little desperate to feel his touch against your skin. 

Quickly, you make your way up to the bedroom after doing as he asked, deciding that it would make the most sense to find him there. The door swings open, Kaeya sitting on the bed with a shit eating grin as he eyes the straps sitting on your hips above the waist of your pants, pulling you in by them and bringing you to stand between his legs when he sits back down. 

“Can’t stop staring huh?” he purrs, loving the attention you’re finally giving him. 

“I got all dressed up nice and pretty just for you. Don’t you like it?” 

He brings your hand to run down his exposed chest, button up barely buttoned and tucked underneath the almost skin tight pants that outline everything on the lower half of his body perfectly. 

You lean down for a kiss, lips slotting together perfectly and you think that he’ll just let the two of you take your time with each other. Your hands rest on his shoulder, expecting to be able to just hold him when you’re suddenly thrown down onto the sheets, staring back up at that smirk he had before. 

“W-what are you doing?” you gasp, whimpering a little as he takes off your bottoms and readjusts your strap accordingly. 

“Punishing you. I haven’t been sitting around all day waiting for you just to have nothing to show for all that effort,” he grins, quickly working to lube up the toy. 

“You’ve spent all day ignoring me sweetheart, you really think I’m going to let you off that easily?” 

Your eyes go wide at the sound of his words, letting him continue as you try to figure out what to say in response. 

“So now because you ignored me, I’m going to ignore you. But, unlike your cold shoulder I will repay your kindness for all this but only if you behave. How does that sound?”

You know that he’s asking you for your consent right now, pausing in his preparation to see if you’ll try to tell him off. When you nod in reply his playful face returns, easily straddling your hips after removing his pants. He keeps his shirt on, only unbuttoning the rest of it as he slots your cock between his cheeks, his own twitching at the thought of finally having you inside of him. 

“Anything else?” you ask him. 

“Nothing. Just keep your eyes on me, alright doll?” he replies, words turning to a soft moan as he sits down on your dick. 

Kaeya takes your hands in his, fingers tightening as he slowly begins to bounce on your lap, biting his lip as he sets his own pace. You do just as he asks, wishing he would let go of your hands so you could touch him more. The way he looks on top of you always sends a chill down your spine, absolutely enraptured with the way his gaze keeps yours as though the lewd sound of his ass smacking against your body and the bobbing of his girth against his stomach was something he wanted to show off. You’re sure he actually does want to show off, practically preening under your watchful eye as his pace begins to pick up, making the noises slipping out of his lips even louder. 

“Fuck – your cock feels so good,” he sighs, throwing his head back to show you the delicious expanse of his neck. You’ve never felt the desire to kiss him more than right now you think, wanting to feel the way his throat constricts with his needy noises and hold his waist to help guide his pace. 

Like this however, Kaeya’s got you right where he wants you. He can see the way you want him to give you your freedom back, the instinctive bucking of your hips into him to hit that spot inside of him that makes him see stars. The way your eyes linger on parts of his body isn’t missed by him, smirking as you bring them back down to watch the spot where your bodies join. 

“What are you thinking about baby?” he starts to croon, leaning over your body with your joined hands to pin them down at the sides of your head. 

“Thinking about how pretty I look sitting on your dick? Or how badly you want to wrap that sweet mouth of yours around my cock? You’re doing so good just being a toy for me, just sit tight and if you make me cum then I’ll give you anything you want, alright?” 

“Yes darling,” you manage to whimper, heart stopping at the close proximity of his face to yours. 

Your hands clenched into fists as he lets go of them, instead holding you down by your wrists as he begins to bounce in earnest. Quickly, you match his pace with your hips and fuck into him, making sure to pay close attention to the noises he makes as you shift your hips around. Kaeya’s a good teacher and you know you’ve found your spot when he almost collapses onto your body at the feeling of the blunt head hitting against his prostate. 

He presses kisses against your neck, eyes closed in bliss at the feeling of you fucking him just the way he needs without even having to ask. He’s a little proud he’s trained you so well, knowing that your reward will have to be just as sweet. His hips eagerly buck into yours, pretty noises pressed right up against your ear, stuttered words of praise making you even more anxious to please him. 

“That’s it,” he starts, cutting off his own words with a hearty moan. 

“You’re doing so good for me. I knew you could fuck me just the way I’ve been wanting you to. Now, just sit still and let me do all the work, okay? I did say it was a punishment after all.” 

He sits back up, this time taking your hands and putting them on his waist. When your fingers dig into his skin lightly he shakes his head, almost about to scold you before you loosen your grip to his approval. Once he’s got himself back in position, he gives you a wink before resuming his previous pace, fucking himself recklessly as he focuses solely on pursuing his pleasure. 

You resist the urge to buck into him, wanting to aid him but judging by the way his cock throbs as it bounces against his stomach it’s clear he’s enjoying himself. Kaeya looks back down at you, letting his moans sound even lewder as he sprinkles in calls of your name, making sure the aggressive way he slams down on your hips keeps you pinned under his weight. You try to take your hand off his hips, wanting to grab his cock to add to his pleasure but as soon as he feels your grip falter he shoots you a glare, reaching for it himself as soon as you resume your grip.

“Look how hard my dick is for you pretty doll, it’s so fucking desperate for you to touch it. See how much it’s leaking? That’s all just for you darling,” he groans, hand moving up and down his shaft quickly. 

“You’re gonna make me cum – fuck – beg me for it. Tell me how badly you want me to cum for you,” Kaeya pants, barely able to hold back his incoming orgasm. 

“Please cum,” you whine, digging your nails into him – without resistance, thankfully – as you do your best not to squirm under him. 

“I want you to cum, please,” you continue to beg, eyes unable to leave his body as he cums with a loud moan of your name. 

He seats himself fully on your dick, now grinding against it as his cock fucks into his fist. You watch his cum spill over his hand, some of it landing on both of your remaining clothes. Kaeya’s hand finally slows, beginning to languidly stroke himself, prolonging his pleasure with a satisfied groan. He shudders lightly as his body enters the post orgasmic haze, getting off of you and undressing the two of you fully. 

“You got another round in you love?” he asks, parting your legs over his waist. 

“Only if you want to,” you mutter, not wanting to force him into anything after all the effort he went through. 

“Of course I do. I told my pretty baby I’d give her a reward, didn’t I?’ 

Before you’re given the chance to respond you gasp over the feeling of his fingers teasing your soaked slit, knowing that the damp spot underneath you was purely from watching Kaeya enjoy himself on your body. He leans over and presses a kiss to your lips at the same time as his fingers enter you, easily giving him access to your mouth. His tongue slips in immediately, stroking against yours as he kisses you. You can barely focus on the way his lips and tongue move, more preoccupied with the lewd sound of your wetness being fucked by his lithe fingers. 

You moan against his mouth, hips bucking into his touch as he scissors you open in preparation for his cock. You can feel it hardening against your thigh, wanting nothing more than for him to be ramming his thick length into you. 

“You want me bad, huh,” he says lowly into your ear, rutting against your thigh as you arch into him. 

“I was good, wasn’t I? So I get my reward?” you ask, getting your response in actions, not words. 

His length sinks into you as soon as you finish speaking, bottoming out and only giving you a moment to adjust before he starts fucking you at his own pace. He still seems pent up from earlier, your moans unable to be silenced as your legs wrap around his waist and nails scratch down his back. Kaeya watches hungrily as your tits bounce wildly at the rough pace he sets, your warm and tight pussy quickly reminding him why he was so obsessed with it. 

“You did so well for me, made me cum so fucking hard. You want my cum, don’t you? Want me to fill you up all nice so you remember who you belong to? Remember why you don’t ignore me when I work so hard to make sure I look good for you?” 

“Yes, yes, thank you Kaeya – you feel so good – I’m so sorry for ignoring you,” you cry out, hips writhing in his grip. 

“It’s okay sweetheart. I know you were busy but now I have this pretty body to play with, don’t I?’ he teases, bringing both his hands to tease at your nipples.

Your pussy clenches tightly over him, making it harder for him to fuck you but he doesn’t care. He gropes at your tits, practically using them as leverage at the same time as his hips increase in pace and strength. The way he slams home inside of you every time makes you see stars behind your eyes, sobbing when you feel his tongue beginning to tease one of your stiff peaks as a finger starts to circle your clit. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” he breathes against your chest, reveling in the fact that you’ve been reduced to whimpers. 

“Fucking me wasn’t enough for you, right? I know you were desperate to have my cock splitting you in two. You’re so cute.” 

He licks and sucks on you, the feeling of the suction against your nipple adding to your pleasure as your lower core tightens in anticipation for your rapidly approaching orgasm. Kaeya’s pace falters as you squeeze around him so tight he almost can’t pull out, only getting rougher with his mouth and fingers as he feels the sporadic way your walls clench over his girth to bring you to that peak. 

“Cum for me,” he growls against you, his words finally giving you that final push you needed to cum all over him. 

Kaeya’s glad you came quickly, unable to hold back as he folds your legs up to your tits, hands bracing themselves against the underside of your thigh and exposing your pussy to him. His eye stays trained on the way your lower lips spread to accommodate his size, fucking into you like an animal as he finally cums inside of you. You can feel his seed shooting inside of you, whimpering and moaning softly as his slowing pace draws some of it out of you, shaking under his weight and the pleasurable feeling of your orgasm as he draws it out for the two of you. Your arm rests against your eyes as you catch your breath, feeling Kaeya pull out of you and press kisses against your thigh. 

“Pretty baby,” he coos, pulling your arm back to press some kisses against your cheek. 

“You’re such a good girl, I knew you’d make it up to me despite ignoring me all day.” 

Kaeya wraps his arms around you, pulling you over his body as he runs his fingers through your hair. 

“Rest now, okay? I’ll be right here when you wake up. You deserve it.”

Kaeya’s warm words have you nodding, lazily pressing kisses against his bare chest. 

“I love you so much Kaeya,” you mumble against him, brain much too murky to say anything more profound. 

“I love you too,” he replies quietly, pulling your blanket over your bodies as he falls asleep with you. 

[tuherrus]

Could you do a TL;DR of the whole Kino thing, please?

i can't promise that this will be much shorter but i'll do my very best for you anon!

DISCLAIMER ONCE AGAIN DO NOT HARASS KINO OR DO ANYTHING STUPID, i'm not your dad but use some common sense

i'm pulling info from the doc currently available here and asks and messages i've received which are available in the tag kinodraws on my blog, everything is alleged, use your own brain and make your own judgement on whether you wish to support kino

kino (they/them), current account kinodraws on most platforms, is a fairly popular online artist and now tattoo artist who has for years on various accounts scammed people out of money via unfulfilled commissions, fundraisers and recently even a charity zine (the doc mentions a bunch of other allegations of bad behavior and random stuff like ghosting webcomic companies etc but i'll try to keep this brief and focus on what i feel is most relevant)

some of kino's previous accounts and their scamming related to them:

PAISELEY, currently permabanned on furaffinity, here's a livejournal of a bunch of people corroborating their experiences being scammed by kino through unfulfilled commissions

CAPONE, also permabanned on furaffinity for the same reasons

RIVETS, permabanned once again on furaffinity for scamming

ARTIST BEWARE PAGE, the user got a refund after nearly an entire year of messaging kino about the subject

RUN ME THROUGH ZINE, all pages of which kino deleted, the proceeds of which were supposed to go to charity, you can find a lot of the things related to this on my tag and pinned post it was an ofmd zine and was very badly managed (missing artists and pieces etc etc) that ended up never being released kino ghosts the zine, deletes the pages and pockets the money made (allegedly $1300 but we have no real way of knowing how much the proceeds actually were), posts a falsified receipt only after people pressure them to speak on the matter after months of silence, people contact the charity and the charity reports kino donated just $1 kino once again goes silent and only after a giant uproar they FINALLY donate the money to the charity, but not before they blame someone else for not posting receipts about it (it was kino's responsibility) and guilt tripping people about how they've been harassed (again i do not condone harassment but people literally wanted them to just donate the money where it was supposed to go in the first place and they refused to even address that nor why they forged the first receipt)

kino also has a tendency to make expensive frivolous purchases (electronics, a hot tub, tattoos, a custom chair....) time and time again once they've scammed money out of people via whatever method they've chosen (they often post about these purchases too after deleting whatever emergency commissions post or a post asking for donations), and while far be it from me to tell someone what to do with their finances, they can't seem to stop scamming in order to get money

so i'd strongly suggest not supporting kino! they manipulate, lie and steal and claim they're a victim of some mass bullying campaign when in reality they've spent seventeen years scamming people out of money and people are getting rightfully angry! they also will likely continue to do so as long as people give them money

again use your own brain when reading people's testimonies about kino, a lot of them in the tag on my blog, but i believe these people and that their experiences are real considering the number of messages i've received (some of which people wished to remain private)

kino's made their bed and i want them to finally lie in it, so even if one person is convinced not to support kino via all this information then i'll be satisfied

i'm sorry this still got so long!

[strwbi-laces]

Happy pandalily

@achilleslikespeas here are the sunny lesbians!!

“I should have listened to Evan,” Pandora thought as she fought her way through the crowd at Camden station. There was no chance she got a walk-in appointment right now. She’d planned this trip down to the last detail, all apart from calling a tattoo parlour to book a session. Ah well, no harm in exploring.

She walked past the market and kept going until the extravagant fronts turned into smaller shops. One caught her eye; Valerie’s. Something about the place pulled at her core.

The first thing she saw was a head of blindingly red hair. Suddenly the name made sense. Then the head looked up and Pandora stopped breathing. The woman was gorgeous. A smattering of multi coloured freckles covered her cheeks. They kinda looked like stars. Or confetti. Pandora’s brain felt like confetti.

“Hey, can I help you?” Yes, please.

“Ah, um, do you take walk-ins?” she stuttered.

She checked her book for a second before smiling at her. That smile could start and end wars. “Oh you’re lucky,” I know, “I’ve got time for a small one. Can you tell me what you want to do?”

So, so much, you don’t even know. “Just a small sun on my stomach. Here, I have a photo.”

While she checked the photo Pandora glanced at her tag. Lily.

“Yeah sure, come on back.”

“So why a sun?” Lily had a hand flat on her stomach which was making it very hard to think. Pandora felt her skin burning at the contact, hot enough to leave a mark. The thought put her in a headrush. Luckily the pain from the needle grounded her enough to answer.

“My twin has a moon and we wanted to match.” She missed one night out and suddenly Barty had 2 new piercings, Dorcas got alcohol poisoning and Evan had a tattoo.

“Oh that’s sweet, I wish I got on with my sister enough to get matching tattoos.” A wistful look crossed her face and Pandora thought that Lily’s sister must be awful to cause her such pain.

“Her loss, you seem amazing.”

“Sweet.”

Lily moved onto the detailing around the sun, focusing more intently. She was biting her tongue, poking the tip past her lips and making Pandora want to die. Her tongue, her lips, her hair. Everything about her was so very red and if Pandora kept thinking these thoughts her face was going to match.

“How’s the pain?” Lily’s voice dropped slightly lower and more sultry than it was before.

“Fine, ah,” she gasped as the needle went over bone.

“You sure? You’re very tense.” She stroked her hand down Pandora’s stomach, “We can take a break.”

“No.” The steady pricks of the needle were the only things keeping her mind tethered and if Lily took her hands off her she might genuinely start crying. “I’m alright.”

“Ok. Not long now.”

Even after Lily had finished, Pandora lay on the bench remembering how to breathe for a minute. It wasn’t until Lily returned to check on her, did she get up.

“So you have the aftercare balm and my number’s on the receipt if you have any questions.” Lily was walking her through the aftercare but Pandora could barely listen. She was too busy staring at the number in wonder while also hating the fact that it didn’t mean to Lily what it meant to her.

“Feel free to call if you ever want any other ink,” Lily paused before saying “or you know… some less permanent marks.”

Pandora snapped her head up so fast she nearly got whiplash. Did she mean…? From the shine in Lily’s eyes they were on the same page.

“Yes! I mean- yeah, I um,” Goddamn it. “Yeah, I’ll call you.”

She spun round before she could embarrass herself anymore. Lily barely managed to yell goodbye before she was out the door. It’s fine though, they could talk later.

[clockworkspider]

I think Keito's devotion to Eichi is actually quite different from standard loyalty. It's different from the liege-subordinate or the god-devotee variation. The key here is that they mutually acknowledge each other as "scriptwriter" and "protagonist", hence, in a sense, Keito is Eichi's creator.

I mean, Eichi is very much his own person. Keito didn't make him up. But he did very much create a role for Eichi to play and distorted the world around them to make that a reality. That's what the whole war was for, and Keito was the scriptwriter for that.

Meanwhile, as much as Keito was invested in molding Eichi into the role of the protagonist, the hero, Eichi was also invested into maintaining his role (in contrast to Rei who rejected the role Keito gave him), because it's a role made for him. He also desperately wanted to be the protagonist. In Elements, Eichi monologues about playing his role in Keito's script to the very end. Their desire, in this case, is one and the same.

When Eichi said he swallowed up Keito's dreams in Quarrel Fes, Keito denied it, and said that his dream changed because he met someone more interesting than any manga protagonist. I don't think he's lying here. Eichi, in this sense, also made Keito who he is by becoming the protagonist to Keito's story, changing the narrative of Keito's life.

So like... Keito's devotion to Eichi is devotion to the story he created. That's why he equates Eichi's praise to narcissism in Concerto. He was devoted to Eichi because he made Eichi who he was. (It's Keito's fault and he needs to be held responsible.) Rather than king and subordinate, it's much more like how a creator is devoted to and defined by their work. Keito did all that because he wanted to create.

If you look beyond their scriptwriter/protagonist metaphor... Keito also had a lot of impact in Eichi's world view, showing Eichi that life shines the brightest close to death, transforming the fear of death into desperate lust for life. Before Eichi found salvation in Love, Keito was a driving force in keeping Eichi alive and hungry.

And like... the thing about Quarrel Fes is that it puts a period on that state of their relationship. Eichi became the character Keito had created for him and then grew beyond it. He dragged Keito into the story to be his rival not his creator. They're able to move forward beyond the role they defined for each other.

If I keep talking I'm gonna go in circles, but anyway this is why I think their feelings for each other is very much requited... They just had... a very particular view on their role to one another.

[kaijime]

watch your mouth

includes. osamu miya x f!reader

cw. corruption kink, virgin reader/first time, osamu wants to breed u <33, dubcon, kitchen sex? [it’s in his shop so?], fingering, pierced dick [prince albert piercing], vaginal penetration, size kink, praise kink, tummy bulge, breeding kink, slight dumbification, creampie, thigh slapping?

wc. 3k

a/n. my piece for @seita’s corrupt-a-virgin collab, thank you for letting me join!!

osamu miya likes to think he follows a strict routine. he wakes up early, shows up for his job, works, and goes home, waiting for tomorrow to arrive and the cycle to repeat itself.

but ever since you've entered his restaurant, you've become a part of his routine.

he sits behind the kitchen counter, watching in admiration how you tend to the customers. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't staring at your ass, but it’s not a lie if he doesn't say it right?

"samu?" there's that nickname again, the one you deemed him ever since that interview for the part time job. "this customer says you forgot to give her a part of her order"

"no i didn't"

"yeah, look" you approach him with the receipt in hand, pointing to a small part of the inked writing. "see?"

he can't see. or at least he can't see the receipt. he's too focused on you, pressing up against him. he knows you're not at fault, but you couldn't be that innocent.

you couldn't be innocent enough to not know the things you were doing to him, the things you were making him feel, the urges that blossomed with every lingering look and longing touch you left on his body. you just couldn't be.

right?

yet, even when his idiotic brother dropped by his shop and shamelessly started flirting with you, you, it seemed like you didn't catch onto what he was doing.

"what's the freakiest place you've ever had sex in?" the fake blond asked, and osamu would've stopped him, if he wasn't curious to hear the answer for himself. still, he doesn't drive his full attention away from the counters he's been wiping, seemingly focused on the simple task.

you chuckled awkwardly under your breath. "that's inappropriate, tsu-"

"c'mon, tell me" he bumps his elbow against yours "can't be that bad"

"no i-... i've never uhm..." osamu can tell you're stumbling and stuttering to find an answer, so he lends you a few helping words.

"'tsumu” he calls "will ya stop harrassin' my employees?"

"'m just talkin' to her samu, no need to make a big fuss" he downs the last of his food and leaves, supposedly in a sudden rush.

it doesn't seem like it’s been hours since then, but the moon hangs low, and the crickets sing outside the window in spite of the late hour. despite the passing of time, not a single word has been said between you and your boss about the conversation you had with his brother, and every minute that passes only seems to thicken the tension between the two of you.

"shit" you mumble, mostly to yourself. you didn’t expect him to shoot up from his place, bent down searching through the lower cabinets.

"watch yer mouth" he says, an evident frown on his face, where he would once smile at you and nod in greeting.

"sorry" you reply, lip pouting slightly while you cleaned off your finger with a paper towel "just got a papercut" the blood tints the paper red and you wince at the stinging sensation.

"here" he holds out his hand to examine yours, even though you already cleaned most of it off, there's still a slight trickle of blood. he wipes it out with the towel he always hangs on his shoulder.

as he cleans your hand, he can't help but think about how it'd look so pretty wrapped around his cock. it would certainly bring more relief than his fist after all this time he's spent thinking about you while stroking himself late at night.

it’s not the first time thoughts like these cloud osamu's mind, but this time he's a little less discreet about it. he stares at your hand like he wants to devour it, and you'd be a fool not to notice it.

"samu?" you call out to his faraway mind, and he snaps out of his thoughs, loosening his grip around your hand.

"right" he mumbles, clearing his throat "sorry"

"thank you" you almost whisper, if he wasn't so close to you, he probably wouldn't have heard it.

he turns and goes back to the cabinets, thinking about what you answered earlier. you'd never what? had sex? were you that uncorrupted?

it would make sense to him, and it would help ease the pain of seeing you let his brother flirt with you like he wasn't even there, but those are all selfish reasons he wants to believe, and he's too scared to ask.

apparently not scared enough.

“what were ya talkin’ about with my brother” he asks, nonchalant as ever, making your breath hitch as you turned around hesitantly.

“we were just chatting” you say, the slightest purse on your lips that tried to relieve the nervousness of the conversation.

“sorry about that” he apologizes. “he can be annoyin’ sometimes”

“oh no, he wasn’t” you lie, clenching around the table cloth you held in your hands. even if the talk had been going smoothly, you still felt on edge after the question his brother left you thinking about. “he was really friendly”

“really?” his hands find comfort in his pockets, and if you’d looked close enough, you would’ve seen the slight smirk in his lip, one that indicates how eager he is to hear what you had to say. “then why didn’ you answer his question?”

if only you knew how much it mattered to him, to know if you were a pretty untouched virgin or not. osamu miya likes to go for girls like you, college girls who look for a quick cashgrab as a part time employee, innocent little girls who unknowingly fall for his charms and next thing you know he’s ruining them with his cock.

but you feel different, you feel delicate. like a pretty piece of porcelain he might break if he continues to toy with you under his calloused hands. yet, he can’t help but think about how perfect he finds your body. perfectly ripe and ready to be filled to the brim with his seed, the perfect age to be plump and round with a child. his child.

“does it matter?”

oh, it does, especially when he pins you against the counter and grips your cheeks between his thumb and his index finger. “samu?” you ask, displaying that innocent look on your face he’d grown to hate.

“i told ya to watch yer mouth” his hands roam down your body until they grab at the back of your thighs. “now jump”

“samu i- i’ve never done anything like-“

“i said jump” hesitant with your actions, you jump and wrap your legs around his waist as he settles you on the shop counter, where he takes off your pants and runs a finger over your clothes slit.

“please” you grip his wrist and beg in hopes for him to stop, but he slaps it away, pinning them behind you with his other hand. he slides your panties down your legs and plays with your clit, circling the nub with his fingertips and watching as your expression changes from one of fear to pleasure.

“please what?” his breath shudders against your neck, where he nuzzles his head and finds comfort in your scent. he slowly inserts a finger into your hole, scanning your face and searching for any signs of discomfort, despite him practically forcing you into this position.

you’re not strong enough to answer him, too lost in the way his fingers feel inside you. you’d been too afraid to do anything by yourself, but god did it feel so good when you gave yourself up to him, slightly bucking your hips into his thrusting fingers and arching your back into his frame.

he’s fond of every little expression you make, the bite of your lips, the clench of your thighs around his hand, and the tilt of your head, willingly granting him access to the skin, all for him to mark, bite and suck. all for him to claim as his.

“d’ya like it?” he asks, putting another one of his fingers to use inside your tight walls, feeling them clench and suck his fingers back inside every time he was close to taking them out.

“yes! yes! i-i... mmh!” you can’t even finish the sentence, not only because you’re sobbing and clenching around his digits uncontrollably at the foreign yet pleasurable sensation, but also because his lips suddenly enclosed yours in a hungry kiss.

he didn’t even have to put up a fight with you, pleased to find you let him do whatever he wanted with your mouth. his tongue tangles with yours in a passionate clash of lips, until he pulls away at the feeling of your hips wildly bucking against his hand, a sign of your inevitable orgasm approaching.

“feels weird ‘samu! ‘s-‘samu please!” the implication of your sensations being new to you made his cock strained against his pants, threatening the thick fabric of his jeans to snap if he grew even harder. the tight knot in your stomach finally snaps when he curls his fingers, sending you into ecstasy as your vision blocked out and you moaned uncontrollably loud.

still, after everything, osamu hasn’t forgotten where he is, and he knows his shop isn’t a decent place to lose your virginity. so he puts you down with shaky legs and slips up your panties, catching you before your trembling thighs can treason you and make you fall.

“do ya have a car here?” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter and puts a hand on your hip, guiding you over to the door which he locks before he continues to walk to his car. the dim lighting of the parking made this the perfect spot, if he were to fuck you in his car, no one would see it. but he has self control, or at least he tells himself that.

“no, my friend usually picks me up” he hums an answer and opens the passenger door to his car.

“i live a few minutes from here” he explains “wanna come over?” he asks, fully aware that he’s taking a leap of faith and you could just refuse him. but that’s not the case, and he’s more than happy to see you hesitantly get in his car and put your bag in your lap, covering yourself as much as you can since he ‘forgot’ to give you back your shorts.

the short ride to his house is awkwardly silent, and terribly torturous. his hand had found home in your thigh, and it had only sent an ache between your legs like you’d never felt before, prompting a clench from your thighs every so often.

he wasn’t lying, he only lived ten minutes away from his shop, but the distance seemed so much longer when his lingering touch would leave you high with the need for more.

“you ready?” he asks, holding the door open for you again as he waits for you to take his hand and get out of his car. he’s quick with hoisting you up and wrapping your thighs against his hips, carrying you to his doorway and leading the way to his room. there, he gently placed you on the bed and stripped off his clothing, taking off the apron he should’ve taken off at the shop, his shirt, his pants and—

“eager?” he can see the wanting look in your eyes, he’d be a fool not to notice it. his voice only startles you out of your thoughts, enough to make you stand up and take off your shirt as well, now fully exposed to him if it weren’t for the bra covering up your tits. there’s only so much he can hold back, but right now, with those pretty puppy eyes you unintentionally give him, he just can’t help it when he takes off your bra and slightly suckles at your nipple, circling his tongue around your perky nub and watching your face warm up in embarrassment.

he takes you to his bed again, this time while he plants kisses all over your neck. he’s hungry with the way he nips and bites at the skin, leaving a trail of teeth marks that would need to be covered up in the morning. in the morning, because right now, you couldn’t be bothered to care about anything else other than the way he rutted against you.

his cock already seemed big when he hadn’t taken off his briefs, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he slipped them off and rubbed his tip against your clit, right?

he was huge, thick tip dripping precum, with a girth that looked too big to be real, pulsing against your pussy. he positions it against your drooling hole, using your slick to lube up his tip and feeling— metal?

you sit up, leaning against your elbows to see the prince albert piercing that runs along his tip, metal jewelry threatening to slip into your pussy, but you put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“i-it won’t fit!” you kick and shake your thighs around him, only for him to put your ankles together and fold your legs over his shoulder, pinning you down and slipping in the pierced head of his cock. you wince and gasp at the sudden stretch, silenced by his mouth clashing against yours, eagerly nipping at your bottom lip, desperate to drink in all your saccharine moans.

“good girl” he praises, slipping in inch by inch of his cock into your tight virgin walls “fuck- this tight little cunt is suckin’ me in, want ma cock princess? yeah? gonna stuff ya full of me ‘til ya can’t even speak, you’ll just be a dumb baby for me”

“hurts!” your words only drive him closer to shoving himself in one smooth thrust, but he holds back, he sees how much you struggle to take barely half of him, he wants to make this good for you to. he wants to make your first time your best time, the one you’ll remember and think about if you ever fuck another man. he wants to mold your insides to fit his cock perfectly, he wants to train you to be his perfect little girl who won’t find another way to get off if she doesn’t have his cock, he wants you to depend on him to always make you feel good.

“‘s ok princess” he leans down, folding you into a mating press as he kisses your neck and slips in the last of his cock, covered in a thin layer of white sheen. “my good girl, creamin’ around me” he mumbles against your ear while he starts a slow pace into your pussy, carefully rutting his hips into you, almost afraid he would break you. “so pretty”

“please!” you sob, tears stream down your face despite his carefulness, it would break his heart, but he can feel the way your own body betrays you, clenching around him and pulling him in for more of the delicious sensation of his cock dragging against your walls. “so big! c-can’t take it!”

“sure ya can, look” he puts a hand to your tummy, guiding you to do the same as he puts his hand over yours. there’s a small bulge, that appears and disappears whenever he thrusts in and out. “you’re takin’ it so well princess, keep yer hand right there” his other hand starts working tight circles against your clit, making you throw back your head at the sudden sensation.

“no! if you do that i-!”

“what are ya gonna do? cum? clench around my cock like yer doin’ right now every time i praise ya?” you fist the sheets to your sides, anything to relieve the aching between your legs and the tight knot that keeps forming in your stomach again.

“please don’t!” you desperately paw at his wrist, only to be slapped away and for him to increase the speed of his cock, rutting into your with more force. suddenly, the head of his piercing hits a different spot, one that left you gasping for air and arching your back against the mattress. “ah! right there- right there ‘samu!”

“yeah? you like it when i fuck ya right there?” he parrots, angling his hips at the same spot over and over, abusing it until he’s sloppily thrusting into you, on the verge of cumming and spilling all his load into you. “my pretty girl, moanin’ like a bitch in heat, all because i’m makin’ ya feel good”

“yes ‘samu! please please, please m-make me feel good! wanna cum, please!” fresh tears roll down your cheeks as you scream and beg for him, unwillingly rutting your hips against him as you cum around his cock, your high too much for your sensitive body as you whine uncontrollably when he doesn’t stop. you’re too overstimulated to say a word, gone too dumb on his cock to even realize that you’re babbling little nonsense words about how good you feel, and how much you want him.

“dumb lil’ thing” he says, giving one sharp, final thrust before he empties his load between your legs, deep inside you, careful not to move you too much in fear of his cum spilling out of your clenching hole.

he’s right, you are a dumb little thing, because as soon as he pulls out you’re desperately bucking your hips, blindly searching for him in hope he would fill up the sudden emptiness in your pussy, unintentionally spilling all his hard work between your thighs.

“no!” he grunts, slapping your thigh and grounding you to the mattress as you wince in pain, dark color blossoming at the skin where he’d placed the spank. “look what you’ve done, bad fuckin’ girl” he says, the sudden tone shift sends a tinge of fear all over your body, and you’re reduced to nothing but a kin to a stray puppy, a terrible look of guilt in your eyes, even if you don’t realize what you’ve done wrong.

“look at the mess you made” he mumbles, flipping you over and placing ass up “now i’m gonna have to fill ya up all over again”

©️ kaijime 2021 | all content belongs to kaijime, do not modify or repost

[metalbuckaroo]

Okay so I’m a sucker for protective/possessive moments with Bucky so I was thinking something like either dbf! Bucky or biker! Bucky knows the reader’s ex wasn’t great and while they are on a date or something, he sees the reader’s ex harassing her and the ex gets a little physical (nothing super serious)?? Maybe the reader goes to get them concessions or goes to the bathroom and that’s when her ex sees her and tries to like corner her and get her back?? Idk you can have fun with it I’m not picky. Also congrats on almost hitting 1k followers!! :) xx

Diner

Summary: a night meant for just Bucky and his girl doesn't go as planned

Warnings: gross, toxic ex, unwanted attention, lil angsty, lil fluffy, lil smutty, cursing.

AU: Biker!Bucky x F!Reader

AN: Since I've done so much dbf bucky the past couple days and haven't done biker bucky in a hot minute I chose biker, and this also may be a little peak into a new biker!bucky series I've been planning out for awhile.

MASTERLIST

Gif not mine

Bucky patted at his pockets, shifting around in his seat to feel his back ones. "I forgot my wallet in the truck." He sighed, going to stand from the booth.

"I'll go get it, just sit back down." You said, giving him a soft smile. He didn't argue, just nodded and leaned back into the seat. "It's in the glove compartment."

Going to the single cab truck that was parked a few spots down from the front door of the diner, you pulled the creaky door open, the dome light flicking on to light the dark space.

Bucky kept everything but gloves in the compartment. Unopened packs of cigarettes, extra lighters, gas receipts; the gloves usually stayed on his hands or in his back pocket.

You quickly grabbed the brown leather wallet and shut the truck door, seeing the waitress walking towards the table Bucky was at through the large windows.

"Hey, you. Been awhile." You froze from the familiar voice talking behind you, not taking your hand from the door. "Hi, Jason." You mumbled, glancing at him when you went to walk back towards the entrance of the diner.

He walked closer, blocking your path and making you back towards the truck again. "How have you been? Heard you moved away but, here you are."

You cleared your throat and looked to the windows where Bucky was sat, looking down at his gloved hands. "I'm, uh, here with my boyfriend. So, if you'll just let me-"

Jason blocked you from going around him, holding his arm out so you couldn't pass. "Boyfriend? Please, hun. No other man could want you after I had you."

Your blood went cold, skin crawling from his words. "Well, you can tell him that. I'm sure he'll appreciate it." You spat, pushing pass him.

Bucky looked out just in time to see Jason grab your wrist and jerk you back towards him. The action making him push out of the booth and shove the glass door open.

"Get the fuck off, Jason." You seethed, trying to pull your arm from his bruising grip. "That's such a pretty dress, though. You never wore dresses when we were together. Let's try again." He said with faux innocence. "You never let me."

A gentle, yet grounding touch to your sides from behind eased your nerves; Bucky's gruff voice filling your ears. "I don't like people touching what's mine. Especially my girl."

Jason sneered at him, releasing your wrist. "Your girl? You let her out in a dress like that?" He scoffed. Bucky pulled you closer to his front, trying to put as much space between you and the man as he could. "Most know better than to touch or even look at her. Now, move." Bucky's voice was chillingly calm as he glowered at the shorter man.

"Must not have fucked her yet, she's ruined. All because of me." Jason said with a low chuckle. "Get in the truck, cherry." Bucky said, his tone softer towards you as he urged you to walk away. "Buck-"

The hard look he gave made you shut up and walk around to the driverside, jumping slightly when Jason was shoved into the side of the truck's bed.

You looked over you shoulder to see the much larger brunette stalking towards him, expression on his face that would make anyone with some sense slither away in cowardice. "I don't know who you think you ruined, but it's not her. I suggest you stay as far away from her as possible, she's mine and I don't share."

You scooted to the passenger side and cranked the handle to roll the window down, poking your head out to look at Bucky. "Buck, please. Can we just go somewhere else?" You pleaded, wanting out of the situation as quick as possible.

Bucky backed away, glaring at Jason for a moment before turning around. "Yeah, better listen to your whore. It's all she ever w-" Jason was cut off by a swift right hook knocking him to his knees.

"Dumb fucking bastard, that's not how you talk about a lady." Bucky spat through gritted teeth, looking down at the man who was holding his bleeding nose. "Anything but a fucking lady. Let her out in a dress like that and she'll cheat on you with the first guy who gives her a compliment."

Kneeling in front of Jason, Bucky cocked his head to the side. "I know how to take care of my girl, unlike filth like you." He spat through gritted teeth.

"Bucky Barnes, truck, now." You ordered, Bucky standing and looking at you, a softer look to his face as he made his way to his side of the truck.

"Sorry, baby." He mumbled, shoving the keys in the ignition before tugging you to the middle seat.

Tonight was suppose to be a night without club and bar talk, and jackets. Just you and Bucky, at a small diner just outside town. Now, Bucky felt like it was ruined and could tell you were still stressed by the way you fiddled with the glove on his hand.

"Want it off." You huffed, getting a nod from Bucky who took the velcro strap between his teeth and pulled it; taking his hand from the wheel just long enough to tug it off.

His warm hand went back to your thigh, thumb pressing soothing circles into the skin. "We're taking the back way home." He exhaled, his grip on the steering wheel not letting up.

You looked over at his stern expression, knowing exactly why he wanted to take the back way home. The reason making you squeeze your thighs together.

"I shouldn't have let you go get it. I'm sorry." Bucky mumbled, giving your thigh a light squeeze. "You don't have to say sorry for every little thing." You said, shaking your head at him.

His jaw clenched, the way your ex had looked at you replaying in his mind. It made his stomach churn.

The truck was suddenly pulled to the side of the dark road and jammed into park. "C'mere, wanna talk to you." He said, pulling the lever to tilt the steering wheel as high as it could go. "You can talk to me from here."

"No, I need you to listen to me fully. Come here." His tone had a demanding edge to it as you shifted around to straddle his lap.

Leaning his head back against the headrest, Bucky took a slow, deep breath, hands on the outsides of your thighs. "I don't want you listening to a damn thing he said. Got me?"

You nodded, toying with one of the buttons on his shirt. "What he says doesn't matter. I've got you, Sarge." You said softly, fingers moving to wrap around his dog tags. "Hm, that's how you wanna play?" He chuckled, hands gliding further up your thighs.

"Maybe." You shrugged. A gasp passed through your lips when the thin fabric of your underwear was ripped at the sides. "You gotta quit doing that, won't have any left."

"If you'd quit wearin' 'em, I wouldn't have to rip 'em."

You lifted your hips long enough for him to shuffle his pants down enough to free his erection, lips engulfing yours as your fingers carded into his thick hair.

Bucky's thumb pressed to your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles as he pulled away. "Want you to make yourself feel good. Alright, baby? Do whatever takes your mind off of it, I'm all yours and you're all mine." He purred, both of your chests heaving from the kiss as his metal hand lifted your hips. "Right?"

You nodded, biting back a whimper from the stretch he caused when you lowered onto him. His hand held your jaw, pulling your face closer so he could nudge your nose with his. "Say it, sugar. I wanna hear it."

You popped open the buttons on his shirt, gliding your hands up his muscular abdomen and chest before leaning to his ear. "All yours, Sarge."

A low groan pulled from his chest, you lips ghosting across his scruffy jaw. "There's my girl." He cooed, hands guiding your hips in a grind.

"So tight and wet for me. Take me so perfectly." He groaned, rolling his hips up into yours as you bounced as much as you could in the cramped space.

"Fuck, James" you panted, already feeling the pressure building in your lower stomach with each movement. "Already, cherry? I knew I was good but damn- can feel you milking me."

Bucky moved his thumb to press sloppy circles to your clit, your fingers digging into the skin of his chest as warmth took over; making him groan and snap his hips up.

You felt the muscles of his abdomen tense before he let out a low groan, rolling his hips into yours through both of your highs.

Thick arms wrapped around you and held you close, Bucky's lips brushing your shoulder and stubble scratching your skin. "I'll always take care of you, sugar."

[ladyzayismultifandom]

Need To Know Pt. I

Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Reader

Genre/Rating: Strangers to Lovers with eventual smut (not in this part).

Description: You’re a shy part-timer at a bookshop that knows exactly what she wants and it just happens to stumble into the bookshop you work at every other week. After a near death experience it only makes you want him more. Will he give you what you want or keep playing hard to get?

You started working part-time at the bookshop almost two years ago. After getting laid off of your dream job due to budget cuts post-blip and getting dumped by a guy that honestly couldn’t measure up to the woman you are now it just made sense to get a fresh start. Thankfully the head lady in charge of the bookshop was kind enough to offer you a job with little to nothing on your resume. Since then you’ve been working on yourself, meeting new kind people who come in the bookshop, and keeping your peace. There’s no better feeling then when you’re snuggled in the back corner of the store with a book on night shift. Nothing in the world could disturb this moment in the force.

Until he walked in.

When you first met the kind hearted Steven Grant a couple months ago you didn’t think anything of it. Just another kind man that likes books especially Egyptian history books. After talking to him a little bit more as his visits become more frequent you learned he worked at the museum about four blocks away. He would walk in sometimes after work.

“You should come visit the museum sometime. It’s a real treat” Steven rambles as he struggles to pull out his wallet to pay for a new stack of books.

“Will you give me a tour if I come?” You say without a thought. Stevens wallet falls out of his hand onto the floor.

“U-um” He stumbles over his words as he picks up his wallet unable to face you because the growing blush on his face. Shit I made him uncomfortable. Damn y/n

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to” You say wishing you hadn’t had said anything at all. Suddenly Steven face rises to meet yours.

“No! I do I just- I’m not a tour guide” His confidence came and gone in a matter of seconds but for some reason you find that part of him cute.

“Oh well let me know when you are and I’ll stop by” You say giving him his receipt. Steven nods, mutters a quiet thank you before taking his bag full of books and leaves.

Small conversations like that between you and Grant is what kept your faith in humanity. Unfortunately, not every person can meet the standards that the fictional men in your books raise almost everyday but Steven Grant sure comes close. Little did you know that another man has been keeping his eye on you. A dangerous one.

Having a stalker was not exactly on your daily life bingo card but here you were sitting in the bookshop alone during night shift in your usual spot in the corner with a thick book taking you away from reality itself. So entranced by the words you read you never even noticed him waltz in the bookshop hoping to take more than books. That is until he’s standing in front you.

“So you’re the one Marc can’t keep his eyes off of? Fascinating”

You jumped at the man in front of you holding the book closer to your chest. Your heart beat is so fast he could probably hear it. He chuckles at your fear.

“Such a horrible reaction time for a young woman” the mysterious creep man said leaning down with a weird looking cane in his hand. You want to move but you just cant. Everything in you is telling you to move but you just couldn’t.

“Please I don’t want to die like this”

“Oh I won’t be the judge of that” He says. Your eyes dart to his odd scale tattoo. His hands reached out for yours. Quickly you hit them with your book but his reflexes were quicker grabbing hold of one. Struggling to pull your hand back you scream.

“Let go of my fucking hand weirdo!”

“Tell me where Marc is and I will.” He goes to grab your other hand again but you hold the book so tight your knuckles start to hurt.

“I don’t know who that is!” He smirked

“Oh you most certainly do” Frustrated to the point of tears you rant hoping anything you say will save your life tonight.

“Do you realize how many people come in here everyday?! Look dude I don’t know who you are or this Marc guy but I have plenty of pent up rage from the last two years to burn this entire bookshop to the ground now let me go- ow!” Suddenly your body started to feel immense pain almost near faint your eyes look towards his tattoo scale that has moved down. The grip you had on the book loosens. It falls to the ground and so do you.

“I’m sorry but she has decided.” He says as he reaches out to your other limp hand. Scared wasn’t the word at this point. Your terrified.

And yet as you feel your body slowly slump theres only one person on your mind.

A crashing sound is what stops the man from taking your life but you still felt weak. The creep was snatched with ease. You couldn’t hear much but you knew whoever came had your best interest. Looks like you get to live another day after all. However, you’re still on the floor.

Hearing footsteps coming toward you, you use the little strength you currently have to see who came to your rescue.

“Thank you…” As your eyes start to flutter close you get a glance of the white layers unraveling themselves to reveal none other than your shy Egyptian history nerd.

“Oh y/n what am I gonna do with you?”

That was the last thing you heard before going unconscious in the bookshop.

The next morning you woke up in a cold sweat in the bookshop. The book you held close sat next to you while draped in a comfortable throw blanket you don’t remember having. You don’t remember a lot from last night other then a weird man making your body go limp and seeing Steven come to your rescue last night. You had so many questions. What did that guy want? Why was Steven there and who the hell is Marc?

You checked your phone for the time: 7:36. A few minutes before opening. Thankfully you were on shift to open today but theres no way that crash you heard last night didn’t make a mess. Feeling much better now than you did last night you get up slowly with the help of the bookshelves. Before stepping out the corner you take a deep breath.

“Please don’t be that bad”

Absolutely everything was fine. Perfect. Too perfect. It seems Steven must have cleaned everything up before he left. Speaking of the perfect devil himself he just ran into the locked door. Shaken up you quickly make your way to him and save your laughter for another time. You have questions that need to be answered.

“Good Morning y/n! How was your-“

“So you’re just gonna pretend like last night didn’t happen?”

“What?” He says as if somewhat flabbergasted by the news you both know or so you thought.

“Don’t do that. I saw you Steven. You were there last night when that weird guy grabbed my hand and tried to suck the life of me!”

“I-I did what?”

“Steven no one is here yet. It’s okay

“No! Y/N I really don’t know what you’re talking about.

“But you saved me last night I’m sur- wait Steven who is Marc?” At that moment Steven head darted down. He hits himself in the head a couple times as he mumbled something to himself that you couldn’t decipher. You grab his hand with your left and raise his face with your right. Forcing him to look at you and tell the truth. You stare until he’s ready.

“Look Marc and I have a very complicated relationship. It’s probably better you don’t meet him but I take it you already have” Now it was your turn to be confused.

“I could of swore I saw you…”

“You did but I wasn’t the one in control.” Steven takes your hand in his and leans into the other sighing. You can feel his pulse go at different speeds. You grew worried for your shy crush.

So you did what any other person would do in this kind of situation. Flip the open sign to close, grab your bag, and followed Steven home.

To hell if you lose your job. You needed to know.

A/N: Part 2 tomorrow? This was supposed to be a pwp smut with Marc and Steven in a bookshop but as soon as my fingers started going I wrote something entirely different lol

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Like a Stone 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Loki, Tony Stark (Professor AU)

Summary: your work as a TA is complicated by more than your advisor. (tall reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

‘Acceptable’. Not exceptional, acceptable. That word needles at you. 

You knew if from your first meeting, from the fact that the professor would not even look at you, that this would be difficult. Nothing worth doing is easy. But why can’t it be? 

You take a deep breath and let it out little by little. You make the suggested changes, although you would argue that some are unnecessary. Yet, you applied to be a TA as much for the learning experience as the extra money. 

“You okay?” Olive asks as she looks up from a paper streaked with eraser marks. 

“Fine,” you insist. “It’s early in the semester. I'm still getting back in the habit.” 

“I know what you mean,” she says and cradles her chin again. She furrows her nose at the textbook. 

“Need help?” You shift your laptop to the side. 

“Prim, don’t tell me you can do physics too,” she sighs. 

“My dad is a physicist,” she says. “I dabble.” 

“Wow, but... what about you?” 

“What about me? He told me to choose my major and I did.” You explain. 

“Right, sorry. I only...” 

“He wasn’t happy with my choice,” you shrug and reach for her textbook. 

“Oh, whew, I got it,” Cerise interrupts as she drops into her chair, scraping it loudly as she does. “Cider for Primmy and a white hot choccy for my Oli!” 

“Can you yell a bit louder?” You ask as you look around.  

“Sorry, sorry,” Cerise says and lowers her volume. “I just got a bit lost and I left my phone so...” 

“Thank you,” you accept the cup, “it’s appreciated. I’ll help you with that Norse once me and Olive get through this formula.” 

“Oh, Prim, I can figure it out,” Olive insists. 

You look at her. You don’t want to push. She probably can do it herself. It must be your new gig. You taught your first lesson and now you think you know it all. 

“Here,” you set down the physics book and gesture to Cerise. 

She digs around in her bag and pulls out the bright orange Norse grammar book. You look it over. It’s brand new but the same edition you used. 

“Cerise, do you still have the receipt?” You ask. 

“I just bought it today, yeah,” she answers. 

“Take it back. You can use mine. I’ll have father Fedex it overnight.” 

“Oh, but... okay, thanks.” 

“Not at all,” you flip through the pages, “you have your notes?” 

You take out your first-year binder and spread it out on the table. Compared to Cerise’ notes, it’s immaculate. You want to help her but you also can’t do everything for her. She’s smart in her own right, people just underestimate her. 

You remember the first lesson pretty well. As you go through the week’s vocabulary list, it gets easier. Cerise nods along and rewrites her note. You notice how closely she bends over the table though. She seems a little less stressed at the end. 

You sit up and rub your neck as you tilt your head one way then the other. You have a horrible habit of hunching at these tables. You push your fingertips into your muscles and hold back a yawn. 

“How about you, Olive? Did you figure it out?” You ask. 

“I think...” she answers but you don’t hear her full response. 

A tingle ripple flows over you as your eyes are caught by another pair. It’s strange. You were sure that hovering sensation was nothing. You ignored it for the Norse translation but now you’re assured of that smattering paranoia. 

It’s that man. The one you’d run in your first day. With his gross leer and his grosser words. You don’t hide your derision as you frown. He seems amused as he smirks and winks. Does he recognise you or is he just a sleaze to every woman on campus? 

“Can you check my work?” Olive nudges you with corner of her notebook, jarring you back to the table. 

“Yes,” you answer abruptly and take the book. 

You bend your head and look over the numbers. Hm. She had it but then she missed one step. 

“Right here,” you put the book down flat and point with your sharp nail. 

She reads it over and clucks, “I knew it...” 

You slide the book over and she takes it. You peek back to where that man stood. He’s gone. You roll your eyes and go back to your revisions. 

A new email pops into the corner of your screen. It’s one of those dozen emails the college sends every week about a new conference or event. You can check it after. 

Nope. Another email. This one alerts you. Doctor Laufeyson. You tap the notification. It’s a forward of the last campus email. 

‘To attend.’ 

That’s it. The only message. For a man with a doctorate, he does not expand very much on his points. Well, you guess you understood exactly what he means. You’ll mark your calendar and RSVP-- $150 attendance fee? And it’s out of town. 

You rub the side of your nose and respond to his email to confirm that you understand. 

“Prim?” Olive utters. 

“Headache,” you tear your hand away from your face. It isn’t a lie. There’s a pinch right above your eyebrow. Usually that waits until midterms to come around. 

“Sorry, guys, I gotta go,” Olive checks her phone. “I have a group assignment in my photography class.” 

“Group work. Lovely,” you remark. 

“Oh, you know, I have to grab something to eat before I head back to my dorm,” Cerise says. “I still haven’t gone shopping.” 

“Right, guess I’ll stay and finish. Have a good night, you two,” you drag your fingertips around the mousepad. 

“Well, I can stay,” Cerise offers. 

“No, I gotta focus,” you insist. “Really, I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Sounds good,” Olive says. 

They leave together and you’re thankful for the solace. You work best alone and yet, those two keep you from going completely over the edge. Before them, you would’ve locked yourself in your room and not come out. 

“Is that the prickly one they call Primrose?” The voice crawls up your neck as a body slides into Cerise’ empty seat. 

You glance up at the man with the silver temples and dark brown eyes. Your brows arch in disappointment and agitation. He’s a bit old to be bothering you. Wait, how did he know your name? 

“You are Laufeyson’s new pet,” he says. “Good luck with that. Shoulda guessed what put that stick up your ass.” 

“Excuse me?” You blink. 

“Ah, trust me. I get it. He’s a fucking treat but if you need to take the edge off, I got a few tricks,” he leans forward and smirks. 

“I don’t know who you are and I prefer that,” you say crisply. 

“Professor Stark,” he answers as if you asked. “Your dream man.” 

You purse your lips and lower your eyes back to your laptop. You start typing as you do your best to ignore his silhouette on the other side of the screen. He chuckles and hums. 

“Oh, baby, this will be fun,” he slaps his hands on the table and stands. “Took me nothing to get your name, I can figure out the rest.” 

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

A Taste of Heaven Part 1

Series Masterlist

Prologue

Contains: Fluff, cooking, sort of slow burn.

2,178 Words

Comment if you want to be tagged

After years of study and effort, you finally secure your dream job, as one of the head curators at the best museum in New York. After inheriting a huge brownstone you're looking for a roommate when your best friend Ubbe comes up with a suggestion, his younger brother Hvitserk. Better yet, you're a food historian and he's a three Michelin star chef.

"Good luck."

Hvitserk was moving in the next day. Someone from work had provided products to wash his clothes and bedding and a spray to clean his items so the mould didn't spread and he was using the restaurant's lawyer in hopes of being compensated for the lost rent due to the black mould.

In the rush to get all this possession out of the house, you didn't talk to him much. You were hunched over the kitchen sink, stuffing in breakfast before you had to run to work. Hvitserk came screaming down the stairs, "sorry I can't stay for breakfast, we have a huge shipment of spice coming in and I need to be there." You tossed him a banana, "see you tonight. I'm looking forward to whatever you're going to cook."

You and Hvitserk had come up with a cooking schedule, you did a fifty-fifty slipt and did meal prep together on the weekend with fresh food from the farmers market.

It was strange cooking with him, you would have thought he would run his kitchen like one of those mean TV chefs but he was always smiling and laughing. You soon began to realise why his staff loved him so much and why his restaurant was so successful, everyone loved working with him and he made people genuinely happy.

"I hope you like stink." Hvitserk smiled, "are you kidding me, stinky tofu is the bomb."

"Mary, can you please bring me those fish?" Mary was a kind older woman, having spent thirty years in an unfulfilling marriage, she left her husband to pursue her cooking career. She came to one of the ten-dollar classes you taught once a month and signed up for a history degree the next day.

"Are we making Garum?" You nodded excitedly, "fuck yeah we are, Roman fish sauce that was loved by plebeians and the upper class. What's not to love?"

You added all the ingredients to an earthen jar, sealing it with a date well into the future, "I wish we didn't have to wait so long for food to do done. Why is there so much waiting?" You smiled, "because people back then had nothing better do to than what things rot."

After that, it was onto recipe research. You pulled a thick paper-bound book out of its case, cotton gloves over your hands and placed the book on a velvet rest. Opening it to the page indicated in your notes, you looked over the recipe.

One fraction of sugar

One fraction of flour

One fraction of butter

One-quarter fraction of milk

It was a pound cake recipe, but what was interesting was the way the recipe was written which made no sense. After looking over the publishing information and comparing the recipe to others by the same author and publishing house.

The conclusion, it was all a scam. The idea was to give people to right amounts but to make sure they fail when making it so they buy fancy equipment. You added it to the list of exhibits that would be shown next month.

"Scam foods through the ages."

At lunchtime, Hvitserk turned up, arms full of food, "hello, what brings you here today?" He smiled, boyish and warm, "well I know I'm never going to get you to come to the restaurant so I brought it to you, and your friends." He looked around and placed the food on the huge steal table in the middle of the department, the amazing smell bringing people over like a spell.

"This is very sweet of you Hvitty, I'll have a receipt and payment for you by the time you leave." He waved his hands, almost offended, "no way in Hel, this is my treat." Mary looked at both of you strangely, smiling to herself.

"Well then, are you going to tell me what I'm about to eat before I put it in my mouth?" He walked over to the table like a boy who just gave a flower to the girl he has a crush on.

"This is salted chicken, it's Ivar's favourite. This is honey bread which is Bjorn's favourite, this is Panzanella salad its Sigurd's favourite, and Ubbe's, which is crispy skin pork." It all looked and smelled amazing but there was one container left, "what's this one?"

He smiled again, it encompassed his face, "your favourite cake." He shrugged when you smiled at him, "we needed dessert."

*******************************************

The food was amazing, it was filling and comforting without being too much. Hvitserk watched everyone eat, the smile on his face growing as the silence of satisfaction did. "I thought you had shipping issues to deal with, how did you get away from work? Not that I'm complaining."

"I'm the owner and head chef, I only hire people who can look after the place if I need to leave at a moments notice." He didn't say it but you knew he was talking about Ivar. As much as he was independent and could look after himself, sometimes he was in so much pain he couldn't move enough to look after himself.

"Lucky you, I run this department and if I left for half a day, the government would cut out funding." Hvitserk shook his head, "I was thinking that maybe I could help with that. Ubbe was telling me you needed more funding to restore some cookbooks and I'd like to put on a fundraiser at the restaurant.

You were so taken aback, you hadn't spent much time with the man and he was already offering to help. Your smile must have been an answer because he was already pulling out a notebook from his pocket.

"You really don't have to do that. We haven't known each other that long, I don't want to impose and please don't feel obligated because I let you stay over." Hvitserk shook his head, "I think you forget what a great friend you've been to my brother. I want to do this, if you say no I'm just going to go over your head."

You rolled your eyes, "fine but only if you let me give you a private tour after lunch." The smile on his face was your answer.

**************

"This is our deadly food exhibit, not only does it have the led plates that caused people to believe that tomatoes were toxic but also the jars lined with lead that ancient societies used to sweeten wine." Hvitserk looked fascinated, "we focus here one food before modernity so unless it's in a scroll, you won't see much about delicacies like Fugu."

He pointed to a panel of photos and dishes in a display case, "what's that?" He saw the excitement on your face, "this is our poison supper club exhibit. They ate toxins that were common in food at the time and recorded their results, these people created the modern FDA."

Hvitserk watched you like you were the most interesting thing on the planet. "This is so cool, is there any way for you to set up some kind of food history thing in the restaurant? I'm sure there would be guests who would love an immersive experience. We could even invite school kids to join."

You were so happy you almost clapped, "I would love to do that, maybe we could do something involving the history of New York?" Hvitserk's hands grabbed your forearms, "you are a genius woman."

**************************************************

It had been a week since Hvitserk had started staying with you. You no longer found it hard to talk to him, in fact, the conversation flowed so naturally that it felt like he had been living with you for years.

The last few days, you had both been busy setting up the menus for the fundraiser and the new experiences at the restaurant, you were having trouble deciding between two dishes for both menus, one was Hvitserk's and one was yours.

Which led you here, with his brothers sitting at your dining room table waiting to bring out both dishes for them to judge. You had cooked a soup on the Waldorf Astoria menu in 1935 and he had cooked the most popular street food from 1922. The competition was friendly and you helped each other with the prep and cooking.

As you tossed the onions in the pan, Hvitserk was looking at your face. He saw the furrow in your brow and the way you leaned in the smell the food every few minutes. For the briefest moment, his chest felt warm and his finger inched to touch you. It passed when you moved to the other side of the kitchen and he did his best to force it out of his brain.

"You ready?" He nodded and helped you with the trays. You walked into the dining room and set the food down, each plate having a little printed card to explain what it was.

"The dish you all decide on will be the one that's put on the menu so make sure it's the best." They looked over the food like hungry animals and you and Hvitserk left them to judge.

"They're going to choose my thing, you know." You shook your head, "no, mine's much more filling. Yours is a snack at best." He laughed a looped his arm around you, the contact making you feel a flutter in your belly.

"Ok then, if you're so sure you're going to win, what do you want for it?" You really thought it over, wondering if you should tell him what you really want, "I want you to move in with me permanently, the house is huge and even if you cover half of everything, it will still be cheaper than rent in your shitty apartment. If you don't want to do that, you have to admit in front of everyone that I'm the better cook."

Hvitserk acted like it was a hard decision but you could see that he had already made up his mind, "fine, if you win I'll move in. But if I win, I move in and you come to the restaurant and let me cook you a three-course meal and you're not paying." You shook your head but stuck your hand out in agreement, the firmness of your shake surprising Hvitserk.

"Done."

Twenty minutes later, you were called back into the dining room, "so, what's the verdict?" Ubbe smiled, "a dead tie." You blinked in shock, "but the voting system wouldn't allow that." They laughed, "tough shit, we couldn't decide."

Hvitserk slapped you on the back, "well roomy, I guess I'll see you at the restaurant on Sunday."

*************************************************

Sunday came along and you made sure to wear your best casual but nice dress, Hvitserk had told you time and time again that it wasn't like most high-class restaurants and most of the time it hosted families and people on a nice night out.

When you walked in the restaurant was empty, save for a single candlelit table in the middle of the room. "What did you do?" He smirked, "you lost a bet, this is me collecting." He put a hand softly on your lower back and led you to the table, pulling the chair out for you to sit down, "what a gentleman."

He smiled, "my mum raised me well." To your surprise, he pulled up the chair opposite and sat down next to you, "are you going to leave the cooking to your sous chef?" He nodded, "she's a very capable woman, and she wants to practice for the new menu." He was happy you let it go, you had been very vocal about your dislike of the restaurant industry.

The food came out slowly, each course just the right size so you could enjoy the meal without feeling too full. Hvitserk watched you like a hawk, asking questions about what you thought of the food, "this could use some lemon juice, I think it would make it a lot less heavy." He tasted the dish off his own plate and nodded, getting one of the waiters to bring over a lemon wedge before Hvitserk squirted it on the food. He took and nite and moaned, "are you sure you want to be a scientist? You'd make an amazing chef."

You shook your head, "I hate people, someone would leave their food and I punch them." Hvitserk knew by the way you said it there was more to your feelings but he didn't want to push.

The night wore on and by the time you were done eating and talking, you were falling asleep at the table. Hvitserk put a hand on yours, smiling softly, "let's head home. Did you have a good night?" You nodded vigorously, "the best."

He pulled out your chair and linked his arm in yours, locking by before walking you to your car. The night was cool and the stars were twinkling in the sky.

"See you at home?" It took a while for the words to settle in.

Home

"Yeah, see you at home."

Part 2

Tag list:@kelly1buck2ats @sapphicmal @profoundtyrantharmony @malevolentmagnificence @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

[tsukishimas-shortcake]

Relationship Headcanons

↦ Character(s): Hakkai Shiba x fem!reader

↦ Rating/Warning: No rating though there are some light mentions of abuse (if you have read the manga you are aware of what I am talking about, I’m not going very deep into it though it literally just mentions it), mentions of anxiety attacks (no detail though), fluff, not proof read

↦ Word count: 1.8k (longer than planned, sections are bolded)

↦ Your Momo’s Receipt: Hello~ I’m post yet another TR headcanon and this was requested by the lovely @strawbub I hope this doesn’t disappoint, it did get longer than planned but I enjoyed writing it. I'll prob do a part two that's more of a scenario based on your first date or something since I didn't go into it here. Please note: for those of you who don’t know my blog is currently under construction, meaning I will not be updating my masterlist for the time being.

So how did you guys meet, well mostly because of Yuzuha,

One day in like elementary you’re walking home and you see this super pretty middle school girl just like yelling at this small group of guys

The guys end up running off just because they don’t wanna deal with her or the attention she's drawn to them

Behind her was a boy, taller than her but obviously younger. You didn’t assume they knew eachother though.

The boy and yuzuha began walking in opposite directions because one was going home while the other was going to pick up something like groceries

You’re so entranced by how she stood up to them yet she’s a girl who was far smaller and you end up catching up to her, almost stepping on her heels

You end up absent mindedly following her into the grocery store and eventually she just freezes, turns, and stare directly at you

Your eyes widen since you must’ve been staring and she just goes “may I ask why you’re following me?” And you explain how cool she was earlier. She invites you over for dinner (esp since her older brother won’t be home) and figured it’d be good for Hakkai to meet someone his age

You end up going over but Hakkai didn’t come down to eat so you never actually got to meet him, though from then on you would see Yuzuha every so often, visit every other weekend or so

But no matter how often you came over the next few months, you never once met hakkai,

That was until you both reached the end of your middle school education and we’re about to begin high school

You had gone over because you were going to borrow an old work book from Yuzuha, and when you go to knock on the door the door opens before your closed fist could hit it, instead hitting a firm chest

You blush and quickly apologize but the person in front of you doesn’t move at all, doesn’t say anything and almost looks like they drifted into space with their dead stare

You assume this is yuzuha’s older brother because you’ve also never met him and you immediately turn to walk away but Yuzuha calls over hakkai’s shoulder

“Y/N-Chan! You just got here where are you going?” This was def not yuzuha’s older brother. There’s no way she’d be that happy with him around; oh my god. Realization hit, the guy who you hit (though it was more of a tap) was hakkai.

The hakkai you had only caught a glimpse of in yuzuha’s photos, never talked to or actually seen in person despite going to the same school and living in the same neighborhood

He must hate you. That’s why he avoids you. That’s def why - is what you think

Yuzuha drags hakkai back inside and invites you in; you sit down with them in the living room and watch hakkai visibly relax now that he’s inside his house, his own space, with a pillow behind him and a blanket covering his lower half, he almost curls up into it as he continues to avoid your stare

“Hi hakkai…Kun? Im L/N Y/N” you say and you see his face dead pan once again

Yuzuha can be heard laughing from the kitchen as she comes back in.

She leans over and begins explaining that hakkai literally just freezes with any interaction between him and girls who aren’t in his family

You nod, thinking maybe it’s an anxiety thing? Which is the case with you, but only because he’s been watching you since you’ve come over (not in a creepy way) wanting to and working the courage up to talk to you

The 5th or so time you came over after that encounter he was inches away from introducing himself before the house phone rang causing everyone to kind of “wake up” in a sense

Every time since then he gets closer and closer but isn’t able to say anything; he even realizes he has a crush on you.

The way you sit when you do homework and how cute you look when you’re focused.

How your forehead scrunches up when you’re trying to figure something out and you end up just sitting back with a small huff followed by yuzuha’s signature laughter.

It’s also a huge thing that you get along with Yuzuha.

So enough with first meeting time for the confession.

He ends up confessing accidentally. He didn’t know you were coming over to begin with so he was flustered out of his mind. And how was he supposed to know you hadn’t actually fallen asleep and you could hear him over the tv

The tv was more white noise than anything and the day was hot since it was the middle of summer causing the window to be open and the sound of soft wind and small birds to drift in; this was the hot that makes you tired so you were all sprawled out of just sitting in a daze

So while resting your head on the table you’re dozing in and out but then you hear hakkai begin to speak, something he never really did around you

Now did you and hakkai text? Yes. Did it take him an hour to reply because his brain would explode when you replied to him? Yes. But was it a start to communication? Also a yes.

You hear him say your name quietly before he moved closer, you can feel his gaze on your features

“I like you” is all he says. Simple and sweet. But you sit there in shock, trying not to blush so he’ll have no idea you heard him but he can tell because your forehead scrunches

You heard him and are focused on if you should reply or not. And he knows that.

You open your eyes and just look up at him, he’s closer than expected. His hand close to yours on the floor and he reaches over and grabs it lightly. Hoping you’ll also return the gesture by holding his hand instead of leaving your hand limp inside his.

And you do, thank goodness, and Hakkai almost mentally can’t handle it.

Once you start dating it’s more so just hanging out at his house or yours; however he talks a bit more and you text a lot more. He’s gotten better at replying. It usually takes him like 15 minutes now

He’s kinda stressed about your relationship but not due to anything you or him did

He’s stressed because of the mentality his older brother gave him

Is he even allowed to be this happy?

He finally has someone thats small enough and naive enough that he can protect you; compared to constantly being protected it’s a sudden, strong, yet good change for him

He’s touch s t a r v e d

Yes Yuzuha shows affection; but he stopped accepting her hugs when he was around 8 just because he physically wasn’t able to handle it due to his bruises and such

But with you, even with his bruises and all you take care of him. Able to coax him into using medicines and toning down the physical violence (that he can control himself)

He also finds it super soothing when you lightly brush over his scars (especially those that his brother gave him), it helps him believe that scars are only physical and can fade with help

One thing that stresses him out the most is trying to hide you from his brother. Any time you leave something at the house its easy to pass it off as yuzuha's but when it comes to things like photos he has with you, he can't hang them up, show them off, or have them as his phone Lock Screen, etc. because he just really doesn't want his brother to know and target you since he'll then know that you're his weakness (aside from yuzuha as well)

Sometimes won't explain why he can't hang out and has legit pushed you out of his house before at the last minute notice of his brother coming home

Will always make sure you get home safe though, usually by having Yuzuha go with you since then she can just say you're a friend from school

Your parents love him, though they were a bit hesitant it became a "you always have a place to stay" because they learned about their family situation from you and yuzuha. So expect him to spend the night when he's too scared to deal with his brother. Same with yuzuha. (yes I know this isn't yuzuha head canons but its hard to write for him without mentioning her when they're so close)

We're talking three person sleep overs. Yuzuha and you of course share the bed and Hakkai takes some time to even set foot in your room much less sleep on a mattress that's on the floor

He has a small heart attack every time he comes into your room because he's overwhelmed with everything, he's never been so comfortable and it makes him feel restless. Like he's never and I mean n e v e r been less stressed and slept better than when he does so in your room

The smell, the colors, just being surrounded by you is something that completely changes his mood

Once showed up after he fought with his brother, tears in his eyes and clothes a bit tattered and you just pulled him to your room, and sat down with him.

You laid on your bed with him laying down onto of you, head on your chest as you rubbed his head and only said a few words "its not your fault"

He ends up crying so hard he falls asleep and gets dehydrated and you have to make him drink a bunch of water when he finally wakes up.

NSFW

super fucking careful w you

almost annoyingly so, but you're understanding

He knows that he might be taking things frustratingly slow but he knows that since you understand and know his history that you can help him get through it

Your first time you think you'll have to call it off because he's shaking so bad

"baby... are you sure it won't hurt you?" he keeps asking.

pretty sure that's the longest its ever taken him to finish because he was so anxious

despite being so slow and hesitant, late he isn't too scared to get a bit rougher

but im not talking anything crazy im talking like he's willing to pull your hair a bit or nip a bit harder at your neck.

Please never ask him to do anything like degrade you or some type of harsh physical rough shit, he can't

like literally im 99% sure that if you ask him to choke you or something he will pass out because of the anxiety attack he would have at even the thought.

in short with nsfw though he is sweet boy. He's a switch through and through. Loves when you take care of everything because then he doesn't have to be scared of hurting you.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 6

So we’re slowly but surely getting into the Hannigram shit I promised.

Someone with murderous intent finds y/n just as she thinks her life is beginning to improve. Little does she know, it will. 

@deadman-inc-bikeshop and @dovadokren here you go homies

Trigger warnings: Suicide bombing, graphic descriptions of violence, gun violence, death, cults, cult manipulation

You waited until he had left the restaurant to read that all-important scrap of paper. For some reason, you felt the need to hide in the bathroom to read it. It was probably just a name and phone number, but your brain was anticipating some kind of love letter. 

You carefully unfolded the receipt like it was your most treasured possession. Inside, it simply read ‘Hannibal Lecter’ followed by a phone number. 

You hugged the paper against your chest and a huge smile overtook your face. You couldn’t attach any rhyme or reason to why you suddenly felt so alive, other than you were completely and utterly infatuated. You felt like you could break into song. 

“Hey, [F/N]!” Charissa said, banging on the stall door. “Not to interrupt whatever this is, but could you take out the trash please?” 

“Oh.” You answered, your voice cracking. “Yeah. I’ll be right there.” 

Charissa trailed close behind you as you collected the bags from each can around the restaurant. She was uncharacteristically quiet, probably waiting for you to start spilling every detail of your night. The joke was on her, because you could let the silence go on forever. She wasn’t getting a word out of you. 

“So you’re not going to tell me?” She sounded deeply offended. 

“What’s to tell?” You said, hoisting a very full garbage bag over your shoulder. “Nothing happened.” 

“He sunk his teeth into you, didn’t he?” Charissa asked. At this point, you weren’t sure if she meant it metaphorically or literally. “That’s why you’re acting all, y’know, not downright miserable?” 

“Is that how I act usually?” You began to make your way to the back.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but,” She prefaced. “You basically have two moods. Depressed and customer-service happy, which is just depressed with a facelift. And whatever is happening here doesn’t fit into either of those categories. So something happened.” 

“Detective Charissa Rodriquez does it again.” You rolled your eyes and put one hand on the back door. “Some things just have to stay between a bartender and her... possible love interest.”

You punctuated the last sentence with a wink, sending your friend into a righteous fury. 

“Holy shit, [F/N]!” She exclaimed, smacking her hands together. “Come on, [F/N], I’m your best friend. You’ve got to let me in.” 

“I’m still trying to process what happened myself.” You said in earnest. “Believe me, if I’m telling anyone, it’s you.” 

“I’ll hold you to that.” Charissa wagged her finger. 

You tightened your grip on the garbage bag and lugged it outside. The night had fallen, and the orchestra of cicadas and crickets was in full swing. The warm pre-summer air welcomed you. As much as you resented her for bringing it up, Charissa was right. You hadn’t been truly happy in a very long time. And, as terrifying as the thought may have seemed, in a way, you owed it to Chase Mulvaney. 

You hauled the garbage bag into the dumpster and slammed it shut. The crash echoed and you turned back towards the door. 

Someone grabbed your arm. Your immediate thought was that it was just Charissa playing a cruel joke, but then they twisted it back and shoved you against the wall. You felt the cold blade of a knife against your neck and you froze up. 

“You didn’t repent.” A manic voice hissed into your ear. You could feel your heartbeat against the cold brick wall. The hands that bound you were soft and the voice was much more female. This was noticeably not Chase. 

You sputtered as you tried to articulate any of your thousands of questions. “Who the fuck are you?!” 

“Silence, she-devil!” The girl slammed you against the wall. “Keep your forked tongue between your teeth or I’ll cut it out!”

Her voice and hands shook and she enunciated as if she were reading off a script with a gun to her head. The adrenaline turned to genuine fear when you felt something hard strapped to her midriff. You knew in that moment that she wasn’t going to use the knife. 

"I thought Chase wanted to kill me himself." You muttered.

“Did you really think vanguard would be stupid enough to come back here?!” She forced a laugh but her voice was broken with fear. 

“Yes.” You said back, resigning to at least die with honor. “And, why is Chase the one in charge?!” 

She tightened her grip on your arm and smashed your head against the wall. “Don’t you dare talk about vanguard that way!”

He ripped off his cult leader title from fucking NXIVM? You thought, fully aware that it could easily be your last thought ever. 

“No, but seriously, think about it!” You implored her, hoping that if you got her talking, she wouldn’t hit the detonator. If there was one thing you knew about evangelicals, it was that they loved to hear themselves talk. “Chas- er, vanguard attacked me in broad daylight in front of dozens of witnesses. You’re smarter than he is! You came after me when I was alone in the dark!” 

“Everything he does, he does for a reason.” She shouted. "It's not the unwoman's place to question vanguard!"

“Oh god, now he’s ripping off Handmaid’s Tale?” You said out loud this time.

“Vanguard told me that you would try to fill my head with lies!” She growled. “So long as you are alive, you stand in the way of god’s work! You spread only falsehoods about our savior!” 

“Is this about the TattleCrime article?” You ask. “Because I didn’t say anything about god, I only talked about--” 

Then it hit you, again. “Oh, so this is a cult cult.”

"It's not a cult!" The girl screamed. This was the first time you'd sensed any genuine emotion behind her words. "Vanguard takes good care of us. And he can take care of you, too [F/N] [L/N]."

"By sending someone to kill me?" You spat.

"No!" The girl exclaimed. "No, no, no, no, no! Silly! I'm here to save you. If you repent now, and let Jesus Christ into your heart, your earthly shackles will be broken!"

"And what's in it for you, huh?" You struggled against her grip. "The privilege of blowing yourself up for Chase Mulvaney?"

"I was a sinful being like you, once." She said. "My grand reward is to give my life to save another."

You heard the click of a gun behind you. “Put the knife down and take off the vest!” 

The girl grabbed you by the neck and turned you to face this approaching foe. She held the knife to your throat. “If you shoot, she’s dead.” 

You couldn’t make out the details of his face, because he was backlit by headlights. You could, however, see the face of your captor. She was completely emaciated with bones protruding from her skin. Her head was sloppily shaved and whatever instrument she used to shave it left deep cuts on her scalp. 

She reached a shaky hand into her pocket and pulled out a detonator. Tears streaming down her face, she began to chant. “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

The man let off a shot, sending a bullet into her leg. She fell backwards, dropping the detonator and the knife and giving you an opportunity to run. The man gestured for you to get behind him and you obliged. He then let off a second shot, this bullet hitting her right through the skull. The girl collapsed backwards, her brain matter painting the side of the building. 

The man dropped his gun, mumbled something about a bomb squad into his phone, then turned to you. Finally, you could get a good look at his face. Immediately, you noticed his rich brown curls and a smattering of scruff around his jaw. His features were soft, comforting even. But a long enough examination of his face told you that he was just as deeply haunted as you were. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, weakly.

“You...” You said over desperate gasps for air. “You saved me.”

Soon enough, the first responders joined you. But for a few minutes, it was just you, the man and some unspoken mutual understanding words couldn't articulate.

[westcoastrry]

Can’t Help If This Is Us

Hello friends. I’ve worked super hard on this fic. I’m not a fast writer so this took my while and I’m super happy with the way it turned out! Special thank to my bestie @harryforvogue​ . I wouldn’t know how to spell or about even write if it wasn’t for her so thanks you ugly fart face.

Also I wrote this entirely for free so all I ask is for feedback. I would really appreciate it and would love to hear your thoughts!

literally mate please let me know your thoughts. PLEASE. I beg.

WARNING: there is smut in this and mentions of the mafia.

I hope you enjoy reading Kiara and Harry’s story as much an I enjoyed writing it. 11.5k words

A fic about Kiara, a normal girl who works at a coffee shop in the upper east side of New York, where she meets Harry. A man who is caught up in a job he doesn’t want but is working hard to craft a better life for himself.

Fuck me like you wanna make love

Call me when you wanna stay in touch

Lie together just to gain trust

Say what you wanna say, can't help if this is us

Moving to New York was a fresh start for Kiara.

It’s only been a couple of months, but she has grown accustomed to the city.

She has an apartment in a not-so-great part of town, but it is close to her University, and the view from her balcony isn’t too bad. She is a coffee connoisseur, so when her pregnant friend and neighbor, Trina, helped her get a job at a cafe on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, how could Kiara truly not make the best of her newfound city life?

“An Americano please?” a deep British voice asserts.

Kiara’s cleaning off the steamer about an hour into her morning shift when the man with long chocolate curls speaks to her. Kiara has been working here for a month, and some very high profile people have come to the shop, but Kiara has never seen this man, but he sure looks important. He is in a suit, all black, and the only accessories are the multitude of rings he has on his fingers. The rose one catches her eye first, then the big gold H.S letter rings. Those are his initials? What is the point of that? Is this man obsessed with himself?

“Americano?” he says more lightly, snapping Kiara out of her thoughts.

“Sorry, I- Americano,” Kiara stutters.

Kiara isn’t one to get easily flustered, but how can she not be when this six-foot sexy man was towering over her in a suit, asking for black coffee.

Only real men drink black coffee.

She works around the machine expertly until the man’s voice interrupts her. “You’re new here?”

“Yeah,” she responds, swiping a curl off her forehead. Managing her naturally curly type four hair in the bipolar New York weather has been a challenge. Most days, she wears her thick hair in a bun, or when she can afford to get it done, box braids. “Started working here a month ago.” Kiara hands him the coffee in a brown to-go cup.

“Hmmm. I’m here all the time. I’m sure I would have noticed a new pretty employee.”

“Guess I’m not all that pretty then,” Kiara fires back, handing him a receipt with a pen to sign.

Harry doesn’t really know what to say to that because he actually does find Kiara pretty. He likes that her face is an even brown color with a few beauty marks. He likes the color of her light brown hair, and he really likes the sound of her voice. It’s sort of angelic, even when she is snapping at him.

Harry smugly hands Kiara his hefty card (the first indicator that this man has money) and signs the receipt. He drops some cash on the bill.

“That’s your tip. By the way, I do think you’re pretty.” His eyes flick down to her name tag. “Kiara.”

Kiara rolls her eyes at the man. He probably walks around life getting everything handed to him because he’s rich, white, and hot.

Screw him and his stupid cute dimple, Kiara thinks to herself. She goes to grab the receipt he signed and see’s two fifty-dollar bills stacked on each other.

Her mouth forms into an “o” shape. A hundred dollars on a three-dollar coffee? What sense does that even make? This had to be a mistake.

“Hey Kiara, are you okay?” Trina, who’s waiting tables today, asks. She has her brown apron tied over her baby bump with a few crumpled receipts and pens tucked in the pockets.

“I just got tipped a hundred dollars,” Kiara says, still shocked.

“You go, girl!” Trina enthusiastically shouts. “Who was it? A regular?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen him before. Brown curly hair, dressed in a nice black suit-”

“Oh, that’s Harry,” Trina smiles. “Everyone loves Harry. He is a cutie. Been getting coffee here for a long time. He owns the strip club down the street.”

“I’m sorry. The dude owns a what?”

“A strip club bar type thing,” Trina shrugs. “Very fancy. It’s pretty much only for the elite. He is super nice. Everyone loves him here! He bought me a crib and this fancy high-tech stroller when he found out I was pregnant.”

“Yeah, well, he is kinda a dick if you ask me,” Kiara mutters under her breath.

“He tipped you a hundred dollars, and you’re calling him a dick?” Trina curiously questions.

“He called me pretty! And he had this arrogant ambiance to his voice. And what is with all the rings? It’s tacky.”

Trina places her hands on her hips.“Oh, just say you find the man hot! It’s okay to admit you find Manhattan’s most eligible and rich bachelor hot. I don’t blame you. I would get on it if I wasn’t thirty and pregnant.”

“I’m not admitting anything. Besides, I don’t have time for men. Men just cause problems.”

“Oh, you're telling me?” Trina points to her bulging belly. Kiara snorts at her friend and starts to walk away to grab more coffee beans from the storage, and Trina follows closely behind her. “You need to have some fun! Loosen up. Get your head out of that textbook. You have been living next to me for three months, and I haven’t seen you invite not one boy over! I know that vibrator you use is tired.”

Kiara grabs the box of coffee beans and turns back around to face Trina. “My vibrator is doing me just fine.”

Kiara’s whole life has been centered around academics. She was a really smart kid growing up. She had a good start to life too. However, Kiara’s wholesome childhood took a turn at twelve when her Dad died in a car accident. The accident was horrific for her entire family, but it hit her mom the worst. Her mom went from being a well respected physician's assistant, to being a drug addict, and Kiara had to grow up at the tender age of twelve just to take care of her mother. Around the age of fourteen Kiara’s mom got shipped off to rehab, and she ended up weaving in and out of foster homes until she was eighteen. Kiara realized that she never wants that to happen to her future family. She has been working hard on her academics because she hopes to have a stable income, so she can give her future kid the life that she never had.

It’s not like Kiara didn’t want to go and mingle around. Meet a new guy, have a one-nightstand, maybe even possibly fall in love. However, the dating scene as a brown skin woman in a whitewashed part of the city isn’t as easy as it sounds. Kiara doesn’t teeter the line of looking ethnically ambiguous. She is clearly a Black girl. Caramel skin, tight curls, full lips, and wide hips. Kiara likes these traits that she carries. In fact, she loves them, but men don’t. Specifically, men that aren’t her race. Not to mention that Black men are hard to come by in this particular part of city.

The simple fact is most white men don’t like Black women.

It’s even arguable that Black men don't even like Black women.

And Kiara is okay with that. She doesn’t need to be approved by a bunch of white people, nonetheless ones with penises. She just wishes she had more options to date within her race, or at least find someone who genuinely liked her.

Maybe that’s the reason why Kiara doesn’t want to go out and find a man to have some fun with. She knows he’s going to be white, and she will have to endure hundreds of questions about her race and her hair or meet racist parents, and she has done that all before.

So, for now, instead of explaining this to Trina, her very white friend, she will just blow off her questions about why she isn’t sleeping around or why she doesn’t entertain the idea of going to bars to find cute boys.

+++

The next day Kiara is off work. She spends her day sitting in her bed, in red pajama shorts and her university sweater, studying for her midterm. She got through quite a bit but is still a little worried about not getting an A. About an hour into her studying, she hears bickering from Trina’s apartment.

“I don’t know what you are being so shy about. Just ask her! You are great with girls.”

“No, I’m great at fucking girls. Trying to establish a genuine connection, I haven’t done that in a while.”

“I believe in you! Now go!”

Knock

Knock

It’s another guy that Trina has been trying to set Kiara up with. Trina does this about every other month. Very rarely does Kiara entertain the idea and sleeps with them, because she is bored, but it usually doesn’t go further than that.

Kiara opens the door to her apartment and there stands Harry. He is holding a boutique of red roses in one hand, and his other is behind his back. The suit he is wearing today is slightly different. Same silhouette, but this time the suit is brown. Kiara finally gets a good look at this man, and fuck.

Green eyes, full bright pink lips. Wide shoulders and defined biceps that show he does work out but isn’t a gym rat.

Gucci loafers. Now, this is an interesting man.

“What are you doing here?”

Harry nervously gestures to the flowers in his hand. “I brought you this.”

“You just came here to bring me flowers?”

“I also brought you this,” Harry pulls his hand from behind his back and shows a bottle of wine he got when he went on a business trip in Napa. He was saving the wine for a special occasion, like the next time he would go visit his mom, but this is more than a special occasion in Harry’s eyes. He is trying to swoon this girl.

Kiara smiles at him and grabs the wine bottle. If it’s one thing Kiara has learned in her adult life is that she loves wine. She usually only gets the cheap stuff from the liquor store down the street, but Kiara has never seen this bottle before.

She walked to her kitchen, leaving Harry staring at her dumbfoundedly. She pulled out two wine glasses from her kitchen cabinet.

Normally Kiara wouldn’t entertain this. Especially since she has a test to study for. However, she can’t lie and say she hasn’t been worked up...sexually.

“Alright, you brought me wine. You are welcomed in.”

Harry follows her inside the apartment, feeling a bit awkward. Usually, Harry never found himself at a girl’s place. He always took his one-night stands back to his house and had his assistant, Trevor escort them out in the morning.

Harry was nervous because this wasn’t a one-night stand. This was him bringing wine and flowers to a girls’ apartment, which he barely knows.

Just like Kiara, Harry also hasn’t been in the dating scene in a while. He has been busy with work, and it’s not easy what he does.

“So why did you come all this way to bring me wine?” Kiara asks Harry, pouring some wine into a glass and handing it to him. “I know you don’t live in this part of the city.”

“I don’t.” Harry sits on the barstool by the kitchen countertop. “I told you I thought you were pretty. Nice place, by the way.”

Kiara looks for the sarcasm on Harry’s face when he compliments her one-bedroom apartment but doesn’t find any. Kiara’s apartment isn’t ugly. But it probably is nothing compared to what Harry lives in.

Kiara takes a gulp of her wine. “It’s kinda trash actually. This is the ghetto.”

“You go to Columbia?” Harry asked, noticing her university sweater.

Kiara takes one more gulp of her wine, finishing off what is left in her glass. She was going to answer Harry’s question. She really was. But she got a good look at his bone structure. The way his jaw is a perfectly angled line. The way his Adam apple moves when he takes a sip of his wine. Even the way his fingers glide against the glass.

She begins to wonder how his fingers would feel against her.

“Kiara?”

That was it for Kiara because she doesn’t think she can keep herself composed in front of this beautiful rich man.

Instead of pouring her wine, Kiara grabs the bottle and starts to chug the wine like she is a trucker drinking a Samuel Adams.

Her lips remove from the bottle with a pop sound. Harry is now staring at Kiara completely taken aback by her actions. “What are you really here for, Harry? Sex? Because we can cut the small talk part.”

“Maybe I actually like you, Kiara.”

“You don’t like me.”

“Who told you that,” Harry counters.

Harry watches closely as Kiara struts towards him.

“I thought you were into blonde models?”

“Where are you finding this information from?” he questions.

“Google.”

Harry smirks. “So you’re googling me?”

“You know, if you wanted to know more about me, you could have just asked.”

Kiara cut him off with her lips attached to his. She wanted him to shut up, but she also wanted to kiss him.

Killing two birds with one stone.

Harry’s lips move in sync with hers, and he places his ringed hands on her back, pulling her closer to him.

If Kiara is being honest with herself, Harry’s lips feel like magic. It’s been a while since Kiara has kissed a guy, and she feels butterflies in the pit of her stomach.

“Kiara, what are we doing?” Harry mumbles into her mouth.

“We are gonna go back to my bedroom, and you are going to fuck me. Hard.”

“A-are are you sure about that?” Harry stutters on his words.

“We both know you didn’t come here to take me out on some date. So let’s just do this.”

Harry should have confidently responded and said, “No, Kiara, that is not why I’m here. I’m here because I actually find you attractive, and I know you have been working at the shop for about two weeks now but I have been very nervous to ask you on a date.”

However, his mouth went dry because Kiara threw off her sweater and her perky boobs sat fully on her chest.

“Kiara-”

“You know,” Kiara rests the palm of her hands on his muscular chest. Kiara has the upper hand and she sees it in the way Harry was staring at her, gaping at her actions. She loves being this bold. Upper chest bare for a man who is practically drooling over her boobs. Kiara likes to be in charge, but only for a little bit. After a while she wants to be taken care of. In bed that is. “For a man of such little words, you are talking so much right now.”

Harry grabs both of her wrist, but keeps her hands placed upon his chest. He knows his heart is racing a mile per minute. Kiara feels it and for a second she thinks to herself that there is no way she is causing this man's heart to skip beats.

Kiara stands up on her tippy toes and lets her tongue dart out to touch right below Harry’s ear suckling on the spot until it turns a nice red shade. She detaches her lips with a pop.

“You want this,” Harry whispers.

“I need this,” Kiara responds back.

“Tell me what you need Kiara.”

Harry’s right hand brushes over her bare breast, causing her to buckle a bit and stumble onto Harry’s chest.

“Hold yourself up, love, and tell me what you need.”

“I need you to fuck me,” Kiara whines.

With that, Harry holds Kiara's hips and roughly turns her away from him. Her hands went out and to grab at the granite countertop, holding herself up as much as she possibly could.

“How do you want it, hmm?” Harry whispers, quickly shrugging off his blazer and undoing a few buttons from his shirt. He begins to place wet kisses along the back of her shoulder. “I can fuck you right here, bent over the counter top. Or I can take you to the bed.”

“Here,” Kiara choked out through a moan.

“Can you handle it?” Harry teasingly asked her.

“I can handle it.”

“Can I take off your shorts?” Harry asks in a more serious tone.

“Mhmm, yes please.”

Harry shimmies down Kiara’s shorts. He takes the time to run his hands over her ass. The contact of her hot skin and Harry’s ice cold rings feels good to Kiara. She wants him to spank her, but she isn’t exactly sure what Harry is into and now she wishes she was sober enough to vocalize what she likes in bed so her needs can be met.

“Let's get a good orgasam out of you. Can I eat you?”

“Yes. God Harry, you're teasing me.”

“Not teasing,” he reassures her. “Just wanna know what you like.”

Harry gets down on his knees and opts for pushing her gray panties to the side instead of taking them off. Her core is glistening in her arousal and the smell alone makes Harry’s dick twitch in his boxers.

“Stop staring at it and-” Kiara cuts her sentence off with a yelp because Harry has attached his plump lips to her clit, giving her small kitten licks.

Kiara doesn’t really prefer to be eaten out. Most men's mouths don’t really do it for her. However, Harry is doing a very good job at keeping her legs shaking. She wants to turn around and look at him, but everytime she tries he delves deeper and deeper in her core, until she can barely hold herself up.

“M’mmm. A little higher please?”

Harry smirks against Kiara’s core because the little please she added to the end of her request tells him that she is slowly letting go of the tough exterior she puts up.

“Here? Is this good?”

“Yeah. Fuck right there please.” Kiara grips at the counter harder until her fingertips turned white.

“Been eating your veggies, huh?” Harry talks against Kiara’s core, the vibrations making her shudder. “You taste good love.”

Kiara is unable to respond because Harry is really going at it. His hands tightly grip Kiara's hips. His face is completely buried in her cunt, and he feels a slight ache in his jaw from the motions he makes with his mouth.

He continues to lick over her swollen folds, and then wraps his lips around her clit, which makes Kiara arch her back and push onto him. She is a panting mess, mouth wide open, eyes pinched together. She begins to thrash around but Harry grips even tighter at her hips.

“Stay still love.”

“I can’t,” she whined. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Why don’t you ask to cum?”

Kiara chokes on her spit slightly when Harry pulls his mouth from her pussy, and dips a finger inside of her. “Am I not entitled to an orgasm?”

“You are if you wanna be good for me.”

“Well if you're looking for a good girl I think you have come to the wrong place-”

Harry adds a second finger to her, which shuts Kiara up. “Ask nicely and you can cum.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be so-”

“So what?” Harry asks her.

“Dominant.”

“You're lucky I’m not spanking you.”

“What's holding you back?” Kiara challenged.

Harry gets up from off his knees, and his free hand reigns down a heavy smack on her ass.

“Ask me nicely,” Harry demands, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of her.

“No.”

Smack.

“Ask nicely Kiara. I can do this all night.”

Kiara snaps her head back to look at Harry. “No.”

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

The three spanks that Harry had given to Kiara were much harder than the first. So hard that Harry started to see an outline of his hand print.  

It's when Harry gives her one more smack and pushes his fingers deeper into her, hitting a sensitive spot that Kiara gives in.

“Fuck, Harry please just let me come,” Kiara struggles to say with a couple tears falling from her eyes from being so wrapped up in pleasure.

“Say sorry.”

“I’m sorry. So damn sorry. Please, I'm so close.”

Harry laughed at how her personality has done a complete one eighty. She went from being a complete brat to now begging him for an orgasm. “You are?”

“Yes please.”

Once Harry feels her pussy tighten around his fingers he pulls them from inside of her. “I don’t think you are that sorry.”

Kiara let out a whimper at the loss of connection. Her legs are still shaking and she almost slipped off the counter but Harry was quick to catch her.

Harry's strong arms snaked around to the front of Kiara’s stomach, letting her stumble back into her arms. She felt Harry’s hard cock press up against her raw ass.“Easy now.”

Usually, Kiara would give Harry some witty comments, but right now she is too worked up from being so close to her orgamsm. She feels a bit fuzzy, not sure what to do next. Her core aches and all she can think about is getting off.

Her hands go down to rub at her clit, but Harry quickly smacks it away.

“That's my job tonight alright? You gonna let me fuck you? You're gonna be good so I can get you off properly.”

Kiara nods her head.

“Verbal consent Kiara.”

“Yes please.”

“Good girl.”

Harry’s smug voice echoes in her ear as he places wet open mouth kisses along her neck. Harry is really enjoying himself. She felt him smile against his neck when he started to coax soft moans out of her.

Kiara weakly pushes Harry's head away from her neck.

“Doll, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I'm good. Can we just take this to my bedroom?” Kiara politely asks. “I think I will be more comfortable there.”

When Harry gets a good look at Kiara, he can tell he has pushed past the first layer of her tough exterior. He knows there is probably much more fight and sass in her, but right now she looks vulnerable.

“Yes of course we can,” Harry held his hand out and Kiara willingly took it as he led both of them to the bedroom.

When they arrive, Kiara sits at the edge of her queen sized bed, and Harry lets go of her hand. She whines a little at the feeling of Harry’s hands slipping away from her.

Harry chuckles at the girl. “Let me just take my shirt off darling.”

Kiara watches closely as Harry’s fingers undo the buttons one by one. His silk shirt gilded easily off his toned shoulders. He made his way to sit at the top of Kiara’s bed leaning against the headboard, and Kiara crawled on her hands and knees toward him.

“Christ,” Harry mumbled under his breath.

Harry spreads his legs wider, which allows Kiara to sit comfortably in his lap. She let her hands roam up and down his tattoos starting with the birds on his collar bone. She then notices the butterfly right above his tummy. When she places her left hand on it, tracing the wings, Harry sighs contently at her touch. It’s a comforting touch, one that he has never experienced with his one-night stands.

Harry breaks a sweat on his forehead when Kiara continues to trace his tattoos. His broad chest stops moving up and down because he begins to hold his breath. He isn’t really sure what she is doing, but it feels good. Good enough for Harry to exhale and relax into the bed.

For Harry, sex with girls usually got directly to the point. Of course, there was foreplay, but not to any extent like this.

Having someone else’s hands on your body is a part of sex. However, this feels much more intimate than that. He’s got that feeling of butterflies in his stomach when Kiara begins to run her hands all over his body. It felt like he was in high school again, having sex for the first time and being so nervous because you don’t know what to do. But in this case, the nerves and butterflies don’t come from a lack of knowledge of the female anatomy. It comes from being completely enamored by the beauty this one girl holds.

And for just a second, Harry questions if he deserves this to feel the way he feels right now. Warm and a little drunk on the feeling of love. He doesn’t love Kiara, at least not yet anyway. But he feels like at this moment, Kiara cares for him. And even if she doesn’t care for him, he wouldn’t mind existing in this false reality he has created in his head for a really long time.

Something about having his body touched in such a vulnerable way is making him feel things he has never felt in his life.

“You have a lot of tattoos,” Kiara points out, fingers still tracing his butterfly tattoo.

“Yeah, I have been collecting them over the years.”

“Which one was your first one?” Kiara asks curiously.

Harry brought Kiara’s delicate hands up to the swallows on his chest.

“These ones,” Harry’s voice shakily said. Kiara takes her index finger and begins to trace the birds.

“How old were you?” Kiara asks, keeping her eyes looking at the birds.

“Sixteen,” is all Harry says, trying to keep his past where it belongs. In the past.

“That’s young. You don’t regret any of them?”

“No, actually. I think they all tell a story. Sure, some of them are stupid, but they all got some meaning behind them.

Kiara innocently brings her hand up to his cheek, cradling his face. “You gotta tell me about them one day. You have so many.”

“Mhmm,” Harry hummed in response.

“Let’s kiss some more,” Kiara suggested, wiggling her hips in Harry’s lap to find a comfortable position.

Harry nodded his head in response letting his lips touch Kiara’s, but not yet giving in to her request. His hands find their way to her lower back, and Kiara’s hands now have made their way up to his shoulders.

“You look good. You know that?” Harry says against her lips.

Kiara now has a grin on her face and blushes at Harry as if she has never received a compliment in her life.

Kiara brushes a brown curl off of Harry’s face with her index finger, “You can’t give me compliments while I’m buzzed off of wine because you might make me fall in love with you.”

Harry smiles. “Why don’t I just fuck you like I love you?”

Harry realizes what he said and awkwardly takes his hands off of Kiara’s body, nervously running his hands through his hair.

Kiara see’s the worried look on Harry’s face, but she is just a tad bit too intoxicated to process the weight of Harry’s words.

“Or you could let me fuck you,” Kiara bodly suggests. “I just haven’t done it in a while, so you might need to take over when my legs get sore.”

Harry nods, his forehead pushed upon Kiara’s. He kisses her again, and is taken by surprise when she lightly bites on his lip. She then gives a quick kiss to the corner of the month, and then his throat. She leans over to kiss his collar bones, and Harry takes the opportunity to grab a handful of her ass.

He then slowly peels her underwear off of her. He drags it slowly past her thighs looking down at her soaking wet core.

“You’re wet,” Harry mummers into her ear.

Kiara cups Harry’s dick through his boxers, and slides them off of his hips.

Harry groans in pleasure when he feels her hand touch his hard dick that is leaking pre cum.

“Don’t get too cocky now,” her hand lazily pumps at Harry's length, which she finds to be quite impressive in size.

“Kiara, don’t forget who is in charge here,” Harry grits through his teeth.

Kiara dips her head down to lick at Harry's heavy balls, she then continues her way up to his shaft until she makes her way to his tip and suctions her lips around the pink swollen flesh.

Harry looks down at the Kiara, who is giving him those innocent eyes, as if she doesn’t have his entire dick in her mouth

“Oh fuck me,” Harrys rolls his eyes, and lets his head fall onto the headboard.

“I will. But let me suck you off first.”

Kiara passes her thumb over his dick, and kisses all around the tip. She licks him up and down before taking him into her mouth entirely, making sure to make eye contact with him.

Harry places his hand gently over Kiara’s head, asking permission to touch her. She blinks at him signaling to him that it's okay.

He took a rough grip to Kiara’s brown curls, moving her head up and down in a steady rhythm.

“That's it,” he encourages as Kiara suckles on his tip. “Fucking hell.”

She pulls her mouth from Harry's length and gives him a few sharp tugs.

“Slow down,” Harry pants. “Want to be inside of you when I come. Can you handle it?”

Kiara swings one leg around Harry’s lap, her core just inches away from Harry’s throbbing dick.

“Yeah I can.”

“Well what are you waiting for?”

Kiara slowly slides down on Harry’s dick, and his hands cling to the sides of hips, coaxing her on her way down. Harry groans at how tight and snug she feels around him.

Kiara is about halfway down when the blissful feeling starts to hit her. She tightens her grip on Harry’s shoulders biting her bottom lip.

“What's wrong? Thought you said you could handle it.”

Bravely, in one push Kiara glides right down Harry’s dick.

Harry groans with pleasure as soon as she makes it all the way down. His hands go out to grip her ass, and help her bounce up and down.

“That's it. Good girl. You like it when I call you that?”

“Yes,” Kiara responds, picking up her speed so that her tits move up and down with her.

“What do you want me to call you? I can call you my good girl, a slut, or whore. Which one do you prefer?”

“A whore,” Kiara is slightly embarrassed at what this man is doing to her, but she is so wrapped up in the lust of the moment that she really couldn’t care less.

“You're my dirty little whore, hmmm?”

Harry cranes his neck down to place a kiss on her tongue, lapping his tongue over her soft skin that smells like a floral scented perfume. He moans softly into her neck and squeezes at her fleshy hips.

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I’m your dirty little whore,” Out of nowhere Harry thrust his hips up to meet hers. “Fuck, Harry!”

Harry placed a wet kiss behind her hair before speaking, “How about you get on your hands and knees for me. I can fuck you like that.”

“Okay,” Kiara withdraws herself from him with ease due to how wet she was. She props herself on her hands and knees and arches her back for Harry.

Harry places a hand on her lower back. He rubs the tip of his dick over her wet folds before pushing in.

Harry moves slowly at first, testing out the waters to make sure he isn’t hurting her. Her sweet moans are only egging Harry on, and he is sure he isn’t gonna last another five minutes inside of her.

“Please Harry. Fuck me faster please.”

Harry hands grips on Kiara's fleshy love handles. It is a little tight for her liking however the pain is quickly drowned out by the intense pleasure she begins to feel.

This is a dirty shag. Harry is pounding into her at such an extreme pace that Kiara can’t even get a full moan out. Her little “uhhhh’s” and “nggggs” only encourage Harry on.

Kiara’s orgasm hits her first and it's just as blissful as she thought it would be. Legs trembling, her arms are no longer propping herself up, instead her right cheek is pushed up on the bed, and a bit of salvia is foaming out of her mouth.

“I’m gonna, oh god Kiara. Just give me a sec- fuck!”

Harry’s orgasm shortly follows and it's just as euphoric for him as it was for Kiara. This was one of the most satisfying sexual encounters Harry has had in a while and he wants to enjoy every second of being buried in Kiara’s warmth.

Harry was about to pull out from her but when he looked down at where they were connecting he realized how fucked he was.

Not only did he not wear a condom, but he most definitely came inside of her.

“Fuck,” Harry mumbles under his breath.

How could he be so careless? This has never happened to him. Harry has had quite the extent of sexual partners and he makes sure to always use a condom.

He wants to blame it on the wine but he didn’t even finish his glass.

“I need a second,” Kiara tiredly whispers, panting.

“I didn’t use a condom.”

“I’m sorry?” Kiara says still coming down from her high.

Harry runs his hand through his tangled hair nervously, “I didn’t use a condom. I haven’t had sex in almost a year though. I get tested regularly too. I’m sorry it just slipped my mind. I can run out and get you some plan B.”

“It's okay,” Kiara responds. She turns her head around to look at Harry. “Do you mind pulling out now though?”

Harry looks down at his dick, and then looks up at Kiara. “Oh yeah shit uhh.” He grabs on to Kiara’s hips and slowly pulls out of her.

“I haven’t had sex in like six months by the way,” Kiara slowly turns herself around to face Harry who has now tucked himself back in his boxers. “It could be longer honestly… it's been pretty dry here until now.”

“Yeah, same. Busy with work and what not.”

There is a moment of uncomfortable silence. Kiara has the sheets up to her bare breast, and Harry is not only taking in the raw beauty of the girl in front of him, and still beyond shocked he forgot to put on a damn condom.

“Well, I can get you some plan B. I think there is like a Target down the block from your apartment.”

“No, it's fine!” Kiara responds way too quickly. “I mean like, Trina has a stash in her car. I can steal from her in the morning. You don't have to rush out if you don’t want to. It’s not safe to drive at night, and you probably have such a long way to go.”

“You want me to stay?”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Harry shakes his head. “No...errr it's not. I would really like to stay.”

“Okay well I’m gonna pee. And clean myself up. I can bring you some water?”

“Water would be great.”

Kiara nods at him, standing up so that her white sheet is wrapped tightly around her body. She knows that there is no reason to hide from Harry. He just took her from behind and called her a whore, but Harry isn’t just any man. He is a man who looks like a greek god, and fucks like one too. So Kiara couldn’t help but be a little self conscious.

Kiara quickly comes back with two glasses of water. She has even changed into an old ratty T-shirt and a fresh pair of underwear.

Kiara hands Harry a glass and he takes a sip, “You know,” she starts, crawling into bed next to him. “If you told me you fuck like that maybe I wouldn’t have put up a fight at the cafe.”

Harry blushes, setting the glass on the nightstand next to him. “Didn’t plan this, you know. Not that I mind. Trust me, I like this.”

“I would be lying if I didn’t say I thought you were cute.”

“Oh,” Harry playfulls wiggles his eyebrows, scooting himself closer to Kiara on the bed. “Please do tell me more.”

Kiara pouts at Harry until he places a kiss on her bottom lip, another sloppy wet one on her cheek. He grabs at her sides, tickling her.

“Har- Harry! Stop, please!” Kiara begins to laugh uncontrollably. She even attempts to pull Harry’s enormous hands from her body but has no luck.

“Okay, okay,” she gives up, Harry pulling his hands off of her. “It was the whole curly hair, suit thing. I love a man in a suit, and you know you got an Americano. You have good taste in coffee.”

Harry smiles. “You make good coffee.”

Kiara hums awkwardly, not making eye contact with Harry, instead opting to stare at his mermaid tattoo with abnormally large tits.

“I like your hair too,” Harry speaks up. “It frames your face nicely. It was the first thing I noticed about you.” Harry’s ringed hands make their way to the top of Kiara’s thigh, rubbing her soft skin. “Then it was all the pins you had on your apron. You have a lot.”

“Oh. Yeah I’ve been collecting them over the years.”

“You had one that said, ‘Don’t be a damn.’ What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Kiara shrugs, breathing out a relaxed sigh. “It was like my third year of undergrad. I studied abroad at the University Of Edinburgh, in Scotland and this guy who had a jewelry shop said it to me. The next day I came back he just gave me the pin and told me to always keep it with me.”

Harry smiles at Kiara with adornment, “I have family in Scotland. I’m from London though. Grew up there with my mum most of my life.”

“What brought you to New York then?”

“School then work. I went to Columbia,” Harry says, giving her the shortest answer possible. “I noticed you had it on your sweater earlier…. You know before you tore it off.”

“Shut up!” Kiara groans, striking Harry’s chest. “But yes I do go to Colombia. Just for my teaching credentials. I want to teach history.”

There is a beast of silence. “Are you sure if I stay the night? I don't want to intrude-”

“I want you to stay the night.”

Harry’s heart warms because no girl has ever said that to him. The feeling of butterflies swarming around in his tummy has come back, and he knows his cheeks are heating up in embarrassment.

“Alright.” Harry pulls Kiara’s body closer to him which makes her squeal in surprise. “Only if you keep me warm for the night.

+++

Harry is awake before Kiara.

Harry is used to waking up early for his job, and usually, he would be on his way to get his morning coffee and then head on down to the club.

However, he just can't leave the girl he just fucked last night.

Her breaths are short, and he can feel her heart thumping against his chest. She was properly attached to him, and Harry really liked it. Having her this close to him.

He takes the time while Kiara was asleep to not only watch her sleep peacefully but look at all the artwork she has displayed on her walls. There are no family pictures that Harry can spot, just a picture of her and Trina on her desk. It looks like they are at some club. Trina has a drink in her hand that looks like she is about to spill and Kiara is downing a shot.

Kiara stirs a bit in her sleep and Harry watches as she slowly blinks her eyes open.

“You're warm.” She blinks. “Do you want breakfast?” Kiara offers, nuzzling herself in the crook of Harry’s neck. “I make a really good omelet.”

Harry laughs. “Kiara I really can’t keep up with you.”

Kiara begins to innocently pepper kisses all over Harry’s neck. “What do you mean?” she pouts.

Harry groans once Kiara sucks on a sensitive right beneath his jawline. “For starters, you didn’t like me at all when we first met. Then we fucked because you claimed I was here just for sex. And now you are offering to make me an omelet.”

“What are you here for then?” Kiara presses.

Harry sighs, looking down at the pretty girl all tangled up in his arms. Harry knows exactly what he wants. He is twenty-seven and he is really looking for love. A life-long partner who he can come home to after a hard day at work. A partner who makes getting up in the morning all worth it. Someone who he can take out on dates, maybe even take to meet his brother.

He wants to take a leap of faith with Kiara. He wants to ask her on a date, however, he can’t bring himself to do that. He doesn’t want to put this girl in harm’s way because he likes her.

And it's not even about Kiara getting hurt. He would never let anything physically happen to the people he cares about in his life. It’s honestly about the hurt she would experience if something happened to him.

“I-”

Harry is interrupted by Trina barging into the bedroom.

“We will be late for the train if you don't get your ass up! You always sleep in--” Trina pauses once she realizes her best friend is wrapped up in her other best friend’s arms. “Oh fuck.” Trina points back to the door. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

“Shit,” Kiara grumbles to herself. “I forgot I had work.”

Harry watches as Kiara frantically pulls her underwear up her body. When she realizes Harry is staring at her, she turns around to slide on her black lace bra.

Harry isn’t trying to be that much of a dick, staring at Kiara while she is getting changed. It's just that her ass is littered with marks from his heavy handy, and a light bruise on her loved handles from holding her securely on his lap, while he pounded into her.

The bruises were tainted with the memory of last night, and Harry notices how every little mark told the story of their rough and passionate sex. Looking back on it Harry doesn’t know if he was too rough with the young girl. He doesn’t like that it was possible that he may have hurt her.

“You need to go,” Kiara demands, pulling her jeans on, and then her white shirt.

Harry picked up his white button-up shirt off the floor and threw it over his shoulder. “Kiara, was I too rough? Maybe you should put something on the bruises--”

“I’m going to be late for work Harry,” she snaps.

“Are you mad?”

Tears well up in Kiara’s eyes and this is very unusual for her. She never cries. She is not even sure why she is crying. She pauses for a moment not answering his questions.

“I’m fine,” Kiara answers with her back still facing away from Harry.

“You’re crying, Kiara.”

“I’m not!” Kiara yelled, throwing her hands up in the air turning around. “I- I’m just a little overwhelmed.” Kiara’s breath gets caught in the back of her throat. “I have school, and I work full time, and I’m interning at this elementary school...and that…” Kiara points to the bed. “That was the best sex I have ever had, and now I look like a complete freak.” She wipes a tear with the back of her hand. “I look like a complete freak because all we did was have sex and now I’m crying. It doesn’t have much to do with you I think. I’m just a little stressed.”

That was a complete lie and Kiara knows it. At this moment, she could care less about school or the stress of work. Its that empty feeling you have after sex knowing that this isn’t a forever thing. Harry will go back to being Harry, and she will go back to being Kiara. It is simply just sex...nothing more.

Harry gets off the bed in just his unbuttoned shirt and boxers. He tests the waters by placing a comforting hand on her back. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Just show yourself out please.” Kiara walks away from Harry’s hold, grabbing a scrunchie off her desk, and her purse. “I have to go.”

Harry doesn’t stop her. He knows that if he stops her he is gonna want to kiss her. Then he is gonna convince her to come back to bed with him, and he can’t do that. For her sake.

+++

“Are we not gonna talk about it?” Trina asks while she is driving her SUV.

Trina and Kiara usually take the subway together. It works out much cheaper for the both of them, but they can’t be late for work. Not during the Monday rush. Kiara is in the passenger seat pulling up her hair and frantically covering up a few hickies on her neck from last night. Trina is driving just a little bit above the speed limit, trying to make sure they both get there on time, and also worrying about her best friend who isn’t her usual bubbly self.

“There is nothing to talk about, other than I need some plan B,” Kiara replies dryly.

“You're joking.”

“Nope. Pass me your purse.”

Trina keeps one hand on the wheel and hands Kiara her purple purse from the back seat.

“Kiara you had sex with my best friend. Unprotected sex.”

“Exactly just sex,” Kiara shruged, digging up the pill from the bottom of Trina’s bag. “And I’m your best friend!”

“You are both my best friends!” Trina argued. “You know the poor boy actually likes you right?”

Kiara rolls her eyes. “Did he tell you that?”

“Yes! Actually, he did! More than once!”

“He is lying. I’m just a normal broke student. And him? He is a fucking rich man but he looks like a literal greek god! Trina you know I googled him. His past girlfriends are models! White, skinny blonde models. I’m not white, skinny, or blonde!”

“He was a party boy in the past!” Trina retorts. “He likes you, okay? He just has trouble communicating his feelings. I know you like him too. You just have this strange idea in your head that you are not good enough for him! Which is ridiculous.”

“It's whatever,” Kiara huffs, pooping the pill in her mouth and swallowing it, “It was a hook-up. A simple one night stand.”

“It’s okay to want something more Kiara.”

“He doesn’t want something more! It's so painfully obvious,” Kiara throws her hands up in the air.

Trina knows how stubborn her best friend is. It's why they get along so well. They both have this hot headed temperament. However, Kiara never really likes to give herself time to relax. She likes to be busy but it is clearly taking a toll on her mental health.

“Let me take you out drinking after work.”

Kiara turned her head towards her friend and smiled. “Thank you. Now we are speaking my language.”

+++

While Kiara’s working, a part of her secretly wishes that Harry would show up for his americano. She is trying her hardest to convince herself that he is not worth her energy or time, but the sex is still fresh in her mind and it doesn’t help that her body is showing evidence of what took place last night.

There is still that dull satisfying ache between her legs, the sound of Harry calling her a dirty whore plays on rewind all day. She is practically daydreaming about having sex with Harry again while making coffee.

Harry was the first man to meet her needs in that manner. Sure she has cum during sex a couple times, but it wasn’t anything mindblowing. In fact her orgasms were usually underwhelming, but with Harry he knew what he was doing. His dominance was a complete turn on.

And sure Kiara could be fuck buddies with Harry. But she thinks she deserves a little more than just casual hookups. She wants a relationship because at the end of the day, she wants to build a family. A family that makes up for her broken one.

Kiara has sat down and contemplated this before. Is it inherently selfish to want to fix her childhood trauma with a family of her own, but fuck. Can you really blame her?

+++

When Kiara gets home she quickly changes into a simple black dress. It hugs her curves nicely and it's the dress she usually pulls out when she used to go clubbing with Trina (which has come to a halt because of her pregnancy).

The subway ride to the club is filled with laughter and Trina having to help Kiara actually get on and off the train (because she pregamed at the apartment).

Once they got to the club, Trina walks up to the front of the line with Kiara.

The bouncer's eyes lit up as soon as he saw Trina, “Hi Trina. Umm, should I tell Harry you are here? James is also here too. I can let him know as well.”

“Harry is here?” Kiara questions.

Trina whispers in her ear, “Yes, this is his club.”

“I’m gonna need more drinks if I have to look at his stupid face again.”

Trina playfully rolls her eyes, “Yes, you can let James and Harry know we are both here.”

The bouncer pulls out his walkie talkie and opens the door for Trina and Kiara.

Kiara supports herself on Trina’s arm as they walk into the club, “You didn’t tell me we were going to Harry’s club?”

“I know, I thought you might put up a fight about it.”

She probably would have put up a fight about it, however she wouldn’t actually mind seeing Harry's stupid, beautiful looking face again.

The club itself is beautiful. The ceilings are covered with mirrors, and hanging down from them were stunning crystal chandeliers. The chairs are red, and glass tables are placed strategically in each booth. There is also a bar with some red stools, and a huge red door near it.

“What’s back there?” Kiara asks.

“The strip club. But we don't need to go over there. C’mon you wanted some wine, didn’t you?”

Trina and Kiara made their way to the bar and a heavily tattooed girl with a name tag that says Drew is working on the opposite side of the counter mixing drinks.

“Hey, Trina! What are you doing here? You can’t drink.”

“It’s for my friend, Kiara.” Trina gestures to her Kiara, who drunkenly waves back at Drew “She will take some wine, something sweet. I’ll just have some sprite”

Drew grabs a wine glass and puts it on the table before walking away. “Coming right up”

“James is that new guy you are seeing, right?”

“Yes. He works for Harry.”

Kiara has heard Trina mention James on multiple occasions. She even thinks he has come to the cafe a couple of times for lunch, but Kiara can’t put a name to the face. She is unsure if Trina and James are dating, but she is not sure how far she should pry. She does briefly remember Trina telling her that James does not care about Trina being pregnant. In fact Trina told her one day during their thirty minute break at work that James is just happy to be a part of Trina’s family.

“Mhmm. So Harry owns this club?” Kiara asks, taking a sip from her wine that Drew provided for her.

“Yeah. He owns a few more too. I believe it's a family business or something?”

Kiara sighs before downing the rest of her wine. “Just eat the fucking rich already.”

“Kiara? Trina?”

Kiara spins around on her chair, holding up her second glass of wine that Drew had given her and made eye contact with Harry.

He looks breathtaking. Hair neatly combed out of his face, tailored suit, ring decorated fingers that Kiara thought was repulsive, but now she can't stop thinking about how they feel against her heat.

“Trina, it's Wednesday,” Harry sternly told her, pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose, slowly breathing in and out, trying not to lose his temper at his best friend.

“Are you not happy to see me?” Kiara says, standing up. She almost trips on her heels but Harry grabs her arm.

Kiara places her hand on Harry’s cheek. “I know you have to be happy to see me. You don’t fuck someone like that unless you hate them or love them. And who could hate me?”

“Okay!” Trina chippers up, grabbing her friend and bringing her back to the barstool. “Maybe we should get some water in you, okay?”

Harry is flustered because way too much is happening at once. Harry has told Trina multiple times that Wednesdays are not a good time to show up at the club. He has his meetings on Wednesday, and dangerous people are always floating in and out of the club talking business with Harry. He just wants to keep Trina and Kiara safe.

“Drew put all their drinks on my tab,” he tells the dark-haired bartender. “Trina, did you drive here?”

“No, we took the subway,” Trina answered.

Harry sighed frustratingly. “Okay. I'll take you two home. Just don’t leave here until I come get you.”

“Harry,” Trina starts. “I'm sure we will be fine. It’s not that big of a deal. James is here anyways--”

“Trina please.”

It's the crack in Harry's voice that caused Kiara to stop drinking her wine and look up at him.

Trina shoots Harry a look of sympathy. “Okay fine. We will stay here until you're done.”

Harry exhales the air he was holding in, a nervous habit he is still trying to break. “Okay. I will be done soon.”

“What's got his panties in a twist?” Kiara snorts as Harry walks away.

“I’m not sure actually,” Trina responds. “He is always stressed at work. I’ve been trying to get him to take a break for ages, but pulling that man away from his job is an impossible task.”

“He always seems so tense.”

Trina laughs, “Yeah maybe you can help him with that.”

“Well I see you have been helping his fellow associate...James.” Kiara wiggles her eyebrows at Trina.

Trina dramatically sighs. “Don’t even get me started on him.”

“What? I thought things were going great!”

“They are!” Trina assures Kiara. “But I’m still not sure what he wants. I’m pregnant and thirty. I really don’t want to fool around anymore. I want to settle down. The baby is coming soon and I won't have time for hookups and flings. He says he doesn’t mind that I’m pregnant, but he hasn’t said he wants a relationship with me.”

“Why don’t you just be upfront with him and ask?”

“Because I don’t want to scare him off!”

“You deserve someone who is upfront with their feelings, Trina. You are never gonna know until you ask.”

Trina sticks her index finger in Kiara’s face. “I’m not doing shit until you figure out what's going on with you and Harry.”

“Fine I’ll admit. The dick is good.”

Trina squealed. “I knew it, you filthy whore!”

“I'm just a little nervous. What if he is just hooking up with me for some weird black girl fetish? What if he is a racist?”

“I can tell you that's not Harry.”

“Am I ready for this?”

Trina takes a sip of her sprite. “I dunno. You know the answer to that question, not me.”

“Well I don’t know, and you don’t know. So that's my cue to keep drinking.”

Trina rolls her eyes and is about to tell Drew that this will be Kiara’s last glass of red wine until she makes eye contact with a man walking towards them.

“Fuck,” Trina grabs her purse then grabbed Kiara’s wrist. “Don’t talk to him okay? Just don’t look at him and maybe he will go away--”

“Trina... Haven’t seen you in a while.” The man's voice is heavy and dark. When Kiara looked up at him the first thing she noticed is that he is extremely well dressed, with a bling out watch on his wrist. “Who is the lovely lady you brought with you?”

“Leave her alone Dorian.” Trina says.

“What's your name?” The man reaches out to touch Kiara’s lower back but she flinches away.

“Don't touch me! Who do you think you are?”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “Feisty. Pretty too. You are one of Harry’s girls?”

“Excuse me? One of whose girls?”

“Are you not a dancer for the club?” the man asks in a condescending town that sets Kiara off.

“Oh hell no. You know damn well I’m clearly not stripping so what is it that you want from me?”

Trina leans into Kiara’s ear. “Kiara please leave it alone,” She grabs her wrist but Kiara quickly pulls it out of her grasp. “Let's just go.”

“No, let the girl talk Trina. She has quite a mouth on her anyway. Maybe she can put it to a much better use.”

Slap

Kiara’s hand connects with Dorian’s face before Trina could stop her. Trina knows her friend has a temper but so does Dorian. The slap slightly echoes over the music and gains a few people's attention including Drew, who stops mixing her drink and keeps her eyes on Dorian, who clenches his jaw and fixes his suit on his shoulders, trying to regain his composure.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters quietly.

“And what the fuck are you gonna… Ow!” Dorian roughly grabs Kiara wrist and drags her towards him.

He holds her hand above her head. “You don’t know who you are messing with. Do I need to show you?”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Kiara begins to squirm. “Let go of me before I kick you in the crotch--”

“Hmmmm. Maybe I should teach you a lesson. Don’t think Harry would mind if I borrowed one of his girls.”

“Refer to me as one of Harry’s girls one more time and I will do more than just slap you.”

“Dorian. Let her go.” Kiara’s eyes float from the man holding her wrist to Harry who is stalking up to her with a man right next to him. His voice was deep and assertive. Something Kiara never thought Harry to be other than when he was in bed.

Dorian lets Kiara’s wrist go and she stumbles back a bit towards Trina.

“Harry!” Dorian loudly greets. “I was just telling one of your whores she needs to watch that mouth of hers.”

“She is not a dancer, Dorian.”

“Oh, is she not? Such a shame,” Dorians eyes shamelessly rake Kiara up and down. “With a body like that I’m sure she could attract some clients for you.”

Kiara launches at Dornian but Harry is quick to grab her this time pulling her into his chest.

“Behave. Please,” he whispers in her ear.

“Dorian, you need to go.”

“Harry, you know better than that. Came here for my money. Come here every Wednesday to get my payment.”

“Well, you're not getting it today. Come by tomorrow.”

“Funny you say that since you know the history between me and your father--”

“I don't give a fuck about the history between you and my father!” Harry seethes stepping closer to Dorian. “You don’t see him here do you? I made you a deal. You will get your money, just not tonight. You don’t get to threaten my friends and then just demand money.”

“You don’t want to test me boy--”

“No, you don't want to test me. Not tonight. Leave.”

Dorian smirks at Harry before raising his hands up in defeat. “I’ll be here tomorrow. If you don’t have my money there will be problems.”

Harry watches Dorian walk fully out the door before turning to Trina and Kiara. “Both of you. My car now.”

“What just happened?” Kiara questions.

“Trina just take her to the car.”

+++

The car ride back to Kiara’s apartment is silent. Kiara sits in the back confused as to why Trina and Harry kept whispering to each other. A whole conversation is happening and Kiara’s trying to keep up, but she can only get bits and pieces of what the two are saying.

“I might be still drunk but I can hear you know.” That is a lie.

Harry’s eyes glance up to the rear view mirror. “Are you okay Kiara? He didn’t hurt you right?”

“No but I did hurt him. Slapped him. And if you didn’t come and interrupt I was about to kick him in the balls.” Kiara hiccups at the end of her sentence.

“She is right,” Trina agrees. “She is more of a fighter than she leads on to be.”

“Exactly!” Kiara yells. “So if you would have given me the chance I would have fucked him up.”

Harry, who was clenching his hand at the wheel during the whole drive, lets go and smiles. “I believe you Kiara.”

+++

Harry makes sure to walk Trina into her apartment safely, before helping Kiara to hers which was a challenge in itself because she can’t even walk in a straight line.

“Woah,” Harry says, wrapping his strong arms around Kiara’s waist trying to keep her balance. “How about you sit down on the bed?”

Harry helps Kiara walk into her bedroom and he slowly sits her down on her bed. Her hair is completely ruined, her dress slightly bunched up at her hips and her lips gloss slightly smudged. Harry thinks she looks beautiful. He is staring a little too long before he realizes he should help her take off her heels.

He gets down on one knee and his fingers begin to work on the claps of Kiara’s heels until she wraps her leg around Harry’s neck and pulls him closer to her thigh.

“Wine makes me horny.”

“I know,” Harry pushes himself away from her, no matter how tempting she looks, and goes back to undoing her heels. “But I think it would be smart if I get you to bed.”

“Why was that guy asking you for money?”

“Asking me anything but that.”

“Okay. Did you mean it?”

Harry slides one heel off her foot and looks up at her. “Mean what?”

“When we met.” He grabs Kiara’s other foot. “You said I was pretty. You meant it?”

Harry is silent for a couple seconds, his voice low. “Of course. Why would I be lying about that?”

Kiara shrugs as Harry glides her shoe off. “Guys are assholes. Well most guys are.”

“Mhmm. Where can I find some clothes for you?”

“Top drawer.” Kiara points at her dresser right in front of her bed. Harry walks over to get some clothes and places them on the side of her bed. “When I moved here I hooked up with this one guy from my class. I thought there was something going on between us ya know? He was nice at first. So I was gonna ask him if he wanted to go on a date because well, at that point we were hooking up. Turns out he had a girlfriend.”

“Sounds like a dick. Can I unzip your dress?”

Kiara nods her head and stands up hastily, turning around so her back is facing Harry. “I feel like I’m never good enough to be the girlfriend.” Harry listens closely as he zips Kiara’s dress slowly. Her delicate skin has goosebumps on it. When he gets all the way down to the top of her butt he pushes the dress off her shoulders, and allows her to step out of it.

“I’m good enough to hook up with. But never good enough to meet the parents or keep around longer than a couple weeks.” She turns around to face Harry, and grabs the shirt he picked out for her, throwing it over her head, and ignoring the pair of sweats he brought her, opting to stay in her underwear.

“So do you find me pretty in a fuckable way? Or do you find me pretty enough to keep me around longer than a few weeks?”

“Do you want me to answer that? Because you are really drunk, and my goal isn’t to scare you off.”

“Yes please,” she hiccups. “If you want to fuck around lets just be up front about it. Think I’ve gotten my hopes up about too many guys and I just wanna know.”

“Well I always think it's time for me to settle down,” Harry explains to her. “I’m twenty seven and my mum will not stop bugging me about it.” He laughs but Kiara stays silent. “I guess dating is just a bit confusing for me.”

“Confusing?” Kiara questions, tugging at the bottom of her shirt to make sure it is covering her butt.

“I really didn’t expect to be around this long. I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff Kiara, stuff that I really shouldn’t have done because it put my life at jeopardy. I think I never settled down because I didn’t think I was able to.”

“And what about now? Do you think you can settle down.”

Harry inhales and exhales quickly. “I’m not sure.”

“Okay.” Kiara turns her back to Harry and walks to her bed. She is definitely disappointed in his answer, but she knew she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep seeing you Kiara,” Harry quickly responds, breathlessly. “I want to take you to dinner.”

“You don’t have to pity me Harry-”

“I’m not pitying you,” Harry cuts her off. “I like you Kiara. You're a nice girl, beautiful too, and I mean that. My life can be… menacing to say the least. I like you enough not to drag you into my bullshit.”

Kiara tiredly rubs her eyes with the back of her hands. “What exactly is the bullshit?”

“It's my family business and my family… Well, they are interesting people.” That is all Harry could tell her without explicitly saying, “Instead of going into finance with my business degree from Columbia, I had to join my dad’s mafia and fix all his mistakes while he lives in a mansion, even though all I have ever wanted was to have absolutely nothing to do with the “‘family business.’”

“You seem like you don’t want to talk about it.” Kiara is now sitting with her knees up to her chest on her bed and Harry is towering over her small frame.

“No. I’m not a big fan of my past. But I want to get to know you, and you can get to know me. I’m busy with work, and sometimes it's hard for me to open up, but I’d really appreciate it if we took this slow.”

Kiara pouts. “So that means I can’t convince you to stay the night? Even if I suck you off?”

Harry smiles at her. “No.” He places a kiss on her forehead. “But I will come get you tomorrow at seven for dinner. Does that work?”

“Yes it does. Thanks for bringing me home tonight.”

“Anytime. I mean that.”

Kiara flips over to her side, hands resting underneath her head. “Drive safe.”

Harry is unsure about his life. In fact he is unsure about leaping into this with Kiara. He knows they aren’t dating, and that's good for him. He needs time to figure out his life. He knows if he wants to be in Kiara’s life, he has to pay off his fathers debt’s and get out of the mafia, or else he will never truly have the life he wants.

Right now, he can see a future with Kiara. He can see himself waking up next to her, making breakfast. He can see himself enjoying a domestic life with her.

He knows he can’t have that right now. But he sure is gonna work like hell for it. For her.

[luxwritesfanfic]

Green Light

John’s got the reader sweating and by the end of the night Mrs. Hudson will have flour where the sun doesn’t shine. Or, the one where John realizes Cupid’s got his work cut out for him when it comes to a certain high-functioning sociopath and his oblivious idiot. Enjoy!

Platonic!John/Reader, Sherlock Holmes/Reader

“What do you see when you look at him?”

You were contemplating between the mozzarella, sharp cheddar, and the Mexican four cheese for the baked ziti when you looked up at him. Mrs. Hudson’s birthday was coming up and she had decided she wanted to host a dinner party with all of her friends. That really meant her beloved tenants and /their/ friends. She had asked you to run to the store for her to get some ingredients and John being ever the gentleman agreed to tag along. “Huh?” You had no idea what he was on about and he could see it on your face as clear as day which earned you a pair of raised eyebrows and a grin that you only knew would lead to no good. 

He dropped the two salad mixes into the cart and braced himself against the other end of it. “Sherlock. What do you see when you look at Sherlock?” At the name drop you squint your eyes and tilt your head, trying to see what he was getting at. “I’m not sure I’m understanding.” John held your stare for a few moments before nodding dismissively. 

“Very well then.” With that, he turned on his heels to lead towards the meats, weaving his way between the other people and carts. You followed after him, murmuring your own apologies and pardons to people as you tried to keep up. You stopped the cart in the middle of the empty aisle and reached into your coat pocket to pull out the grocery list Mrs. Hudson had made for you. “So looks like we still need-“ “It’s just that we all look at him like he’s from Mars and it looks like you see something different. That’s all.” John interrupted as he made it seem like he was deep in thought trying to pick the best ground beef package. Rolling your eyes, you turned to the opposite side of the aisle and reached in one of the freezers to grab some boxes of garlic bread. “And what exactly would I be seeing, John?” “You tell me, dear.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, he was definitely challenging you and you had decided then that you liked John Watson a lot more when he wasn’t talking. Just as you were dropping the boxes in the cart and prepared to flip the conversation by asking how he and Sarah (or whatever her name was this week) were doing, you heard your phone go off. Out of biscuits. SH “And he’s got a special tone. It’s really like that, is it?” He throws a few packages of beef in the cart and takes control of it, pushing down the aisle while you’re still thumbing a reply. It didn’t take much for him to notice how much you cared about his best friend and he thought it was sweet. He just couldn’t let you know that without a little snark first. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You murmur nonchalantly and follow after him, making a point to grab a box of biscuits off the endcap as you turn the aisle. “Oh, of course you don’t. That would be too convenient.” He reaches out to take the biscuits from your hands and throw them in the cart for you all while making a beeline for the wine. That particular conversation finally dies off and you almost jump for joy. You and John spend some time picking out a few different wines to pair with dinner and a few to store away for a rainy day with no cases. You both agree that you should get Mrs. Hudson some flowers and spend some time building the perfect bouquet. “You should be a pro at this, John,” you teased, “you spend a lot of time buying flowers for different women. You must be able to read them like a book.” Not realizing you had just set yourself up, you wrapped the bouquet and smirked all triumphant and regained control of the cart. “Right, right. So then you see why I can read you so well.” Damnit. “Okay I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You win. Truce?” You batted your eyes and gave him your very best smile as you pulled out the list once more to be sure you two had gotten everything. “Since you don’t know what you see when you look at him, what do you think he sees when he looks at you like that?” John crosses his arms expectantly and raises an eyebrow and you curse him for still being able to see the fondness in his features. You throw your head back and groan. He was never gonna let this go. You sighed dramatically and shoved the paper back in your pocket and began the trek down the aisle once more. “I don’t know, John. The same thing you see, I guess.” “A hopelessly oblivious gal with a penchant for annoying dicks? Oh, sorry. I didn’t think the last lad you were seeing was that bad. A penchant for one annoying dick.” He was loving every second of this. “For the record, I was never seeing Bucky. We’re good friends, that’s all. He brings a sense of normalcy into my life and I need that with all I go through with you two.” You pointed at him and waved your hand to try and dismiss the conversation for the millionth time today and put a little more pep in your step to create some distance between you two. John could only smile at the fact that you never denied his first assumption and jogged to catch up with you. You had made your way to the self checkout and began to start scanning your items, relieved at the beeps and murmurs of the machines and other customers  to give you peace from the conversation. John moved to start putting the bags into the cart as you filled them. You two made a good team even with something as mundane as grocery shopping. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, more sincere than he had been all day. 

“I just want you to know I think it would work.” You hesitated and hoped it wasn’t as telling as you thought it was. The conversation was suddenly very real and you felt the air change around you. You kept swiping your groceries and hoped it would ground you so you wouldn’t get overwhelmed in the moment. 

“How?” You all but whispered, praying you didn’t sound as small as you suddenly felt. If John heard your weakness, he didn’t let you know. He continued to load the bags into the buggy. “Haven’t the faintest. I just know you’re good to him, and I think he could learn how to be good to you. If he understood what he was missing, he’d want to learn.” You nodded and couldn’t find it in yourself to respond properly. You swiped your card and grabbed the receipt and allowed John to regain control of the cart once more to lead you out. Once you made it out of the store, you walked side by side with him out onto the sidewalk and hailed a cab. “So how drunk do you this Mrs. Hudson’s gonna be tonight? You think she’s gonna disappear in the middle of the night to go get a sandwich?” John asked as he loaded the trunk of the taxi with your groceries and you couldn’t help but let out a genuine laugh. “You’re sick. I bet you 50 quid she’ll come back with flour handprints on her dress.” You pushed the cart back away from the road and back with the rest of them and got in the cab after John. His eyes widened and he slapped your knee as you settled in and fastened your seatbelt. “You’re sicker! And I wouldn’t have you any other way.” He smiled at you and turned to the driver. “221b Baker Street, please.”